One of the highlights of our chol hamoed travels was our three city tour of Israel's German colonies. A little background: in the late 1860's a group of German Protestants belonging the Temple Society (known from here on in as the Templers) came to the land of Palestine and began building settlements, aka colonies. Drawn to the holy land because of their messianic beliefs, they set up agricultural communities and built homes and churches, hoping to hasten the return of the messiah. The Templers ran into a few problems during World War II as a result of their German nationalism and were labeled enemy nationals by the British and many were subsequently deported to Australia. Apparently sporting the Nazi flag in British mandate Palestine was a quick way to get kicked out. National and religious beliefs aside, the Templers did leave quite an architectural mark on the land of Israel, particularly in the country's three largest cities: Haifa, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. (For more on the Templers: http://en.wikipedia.
Our new found interest in the German Templers was kindled by our seder host, and licensed tour-guide, who lead us and our family on a walking tour of Tel Aviv's old German colony, known as Sarona. Unlike it's counterparts in Jerusalem and Haifa, Tel Aviv's German colony has pretty much been abandoned since the Germans were kicked out. Over the years some of the buildings were used as temporary government offices, but for the most part, the area was associated with Nazi Germany and deemed "poisonous" by the locals (including Ben Gurion, who wanted to knock it all down). Just recently, the city decided to do something with the abandoned space and beautiful old buildings and turn Sarona into a quaint shopping center with open space and boutique shops. The area is currently a construction site and so we had to climb through a fence to go see it... trespassing
The following day our Uncle, Aunt and cousins met us up in Haifa to experience a little of our new hometown. We figured we should carry on the theme of the previous day and visit Haifa's German colony too. The German Colony here is a big wide street situated just below the immaculately kept Bahai Gardens. The huge old German buildings have mostly been converted into shops and restaurants, one of which was kosher for Passover so we ate dinner there (sadly the food wasn't so good and our Pesach gnocchi tasted more like tater-tots). On this trip, we learned that the Templers were actually responsible for building a lot of the early infrastructure in Haifa, so, I guess we owe a thank you to the Templers.
Our last stop on the Templer tour was the next morning where we all (us + aunt, uncle and cousins) met up with some other cousins for breakfast on Emek Refaim, the center of the German Colony in Jerusalem. This stop was really just breakfast, not so much touring/exploring, since this German settlement has been completely incorporated into the city. You might not even know the architecture is uniquely different than the rest of the city if no one pointed it out to you.
Even though this happened before Pesach, I am going to boast here that I actually visited two OTHER German colonies in the past month as well. Another tour-guide friend and I drove around a couple moshavim (small agricultural towns) not too far from Haifa where the Templers had also settled. I bet not too many people can claim to have visited 5 German colonies in the span of a month. Duly added to my accomplishments list.
Since we were in Jerusalem we decided to visit some of my (Stef's) old friends in the Old City. One of the challenges of the political atmosphere of Israel, and particularly Jerusalem, is that Jews and Arabs live in such close proximity, yet rarely have much direct contact. This leads to a lot of xenophobia, and really just estrangement, for people living in the same city. For these and just purely social reasons, I have made it a point to keep in contact with a few of my Arab Israeli friends who I have met over the years. One of these friends is a jeweler who has a shop in the Old City shuk. A few friends and I happened upon his shop a number of years ago and I have frequently gone back to visit. When I still lived in Jerusalem I used to more regularly stop by and would sometimes help him with odd jobs around the shop, like the time I bagged little beads and hand wrote the the labels (I could still pick out my hand writing on our most recent visit). I have brought my parents to his shop and he now knows Matt as well. He deals a lot with foreign dignitaries (including Obama's entourage when they were here) and he helps run big events in the Jerusalem municipality like the "shuk" part of Hutzot HaYotzer (a big art festival in Jerusalem). Yet, every time I walk into his shop he recognizes me and smiles and we chat for a while and he often gifts me a little charm which I add to my necklace - this trip I got a little evil eye bead.
My other friend is a guy I met while studying at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He and I were in the same Hebrew class. We had a little group of friends, we hung our during breaks from class, even went on a trip to Tiberias in his dad's big tour-guiding van. While we didn't keep in such close contact after that semester, we did eventually find each other on facebook. It was on facebook that I learned he had opened his own coffee shop just around the corner from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, in the heart of the Christian Quarter of the Old City, not too far from where he grew up. On my last trip to Israel before making aliyah I found his shop and we reconnected. This time I got to introduce him to Matt. Although we couldn't order a coffee at his shop since it was Passover, it was nice to simply catch up, hear about his two kids and his dreams of moving to America.
As Passover wound down, the anticipation of finally getting to make homemade pasta with my new pasta machine exponentially increased. So when the day finally came and we switched our kitchen back to normal, the pasta making commenced and we have eaten pasta for every meal since (with no exaggeration). There were a few hiccups in the learning process (mostly related to trying to make the dough on a flat surface like the pros do without the liquid part spilling everywhere), but all the different types of pasta we made came out delicious. Next up: homemade ravioli, yum.
Even though Pesach ended earlier this week, we officially closed out the bread-less season this Shabbat by baking and eating our "Schlissel challah." Schlissel means "key" in Yiddish and there is a not-so-widely-practiced custom on the Shabbat following Pesach to bake a challah that either has a key baked inside of it (turns out that's not so healthy to do) or is shaped to resemble a key (the safer option and the one we went with).
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In the book of Joshua, after the Israelites' first Passover in the land of Israel, the manna, which had sustained them for all those years in the desert, ceased to be provided from the heavens. They were now on their own to tend the soil and produce their own sustenance. The key symbolizes a form of prayer, asking God to open up the gates of livelihood - a.k.a. we know we don't get miracle food handed to us anymore, but we could still use a little help. Entering the land of Israel ourselves, Matt and I were also at first provided with manna, in the form of sal klita payments (a financial grant provided by the government). Now, that manna has stopped and we are on our own to fend for ourselves in this harsh economic climate. While we will both work hard to make sure we stay afloat, a little prayer and a symbolic challah can't hurt.
Wishing you all a great week ahead,
Stef and Matt
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