The Dead Sea, for Mr. Ridge's class

   Welcome to The Dead Sea!  You see my friend floating almost ON the water?  That's because it's so salty.  Look up The Dead Sea on the web if you want to learn more.  It's a little over 1,300 feet below sea level.  That is really low.  Find out the level of Topsham to compare it.

Going down to The Dead Sea

   When you go to The Dead Sea, you drive down, down, down, and the land gets drier and drier.  It's very much like the desert, but as you descend below sea level, the ground is hard, like sandstone.  Coming away from The Dead Sea, I saw a couple of camels, but I knew they were there for the tourists, so they could have a camel ride if they wanted one and were willing to pay for it.  Here's what the land looks like as you descend to the sea.
   The Dead Sea is very big.  I have not looked it up on the web, so I don't know how large, but just looking at it tells me it's big.  We were on the Israeli side and across the water is the Jordanian side, two different countries.  There's also a section that is Palestinian.  Palestine is not officially a country yet, but it's trying to be.  There are a lot of serious disagreements between Palestine and Israel and sometimes there is also very serious fighting.  It's very complicated.

Muddy men

One of the things that people like to do when they come to float in The Dead Sea is cover themselves with mud.  They do this because the mud is apparently very good for your skin.  After you've covered yourself with mud, you're supposed to let it dry and then you almost peel it off, at least that's what I was told.  It looked to me like most of the people were going into the water to wash it off after they put it on and left it for a while.
   You don't swim in The Dead Sea, you float ON it.  You float on your back because you don't want the very salty water to get in your eyes.  If you do get a little in your eyes, you have to get to shore as fast as you can, which isn't very fast because you're on your back until your feet can touch bottom.  As soon as you get to shore, you rinse your eyes out with the fresh water that is coming out of a pipe from a spring.  It feels very good to get your eyes rinsed out if you do get salt in them.

across The Dead Sea to Jordan

   I said you float on your back; you can't really swim.  I heard a funny story about someone who floated a lot further than he intended.  He fell asleep, floating on his back and he began to float across the sea.  The life guard called to him with a bull horn telling him to come back and apparently thought he had heard because the life guard didn't look again until it was too late.  Oh, nothing awful happened!  The man slept while he floated all the way across the sea to Jordan.  There, someone woke him up and brought him back to the other side.  That's a long floating sleep, or sleeping float!
   Friday I also went to see a new play at a theater in the town of Ramallah, which is north of Jerusalem.  Can you find it on a map of the Middle East?  The theater is called Ashtar, and the play is called 48 MINUTES FOR PALESTINE.  The last play I saw at Ashtar, twelve years ago, was good but in Arabic, so I didn't understand much of the dialogue.  (Do you know what "dialogue" is?  It's what people are saying when they talk to each other, like they do in a play or a movie or in real life.)  48 MINUTES didn't have any dialogue.  There was music, movement, two characters, a simple set and some props and sometimes the characters made sounds, but there were no words.  I understood it all and thought it was very good.
   I'll blog again tomorrow.  You'll probably read this one Monday and tomorrow's, Tuesday.  I hope you're all well and reading, running, eating and drinking lots of water, sleeping but not in class.  Happy new week from Grampa Al.

Walking ON water

Descending to The Dead Sea

Khitam, floating ON The Dead Sea

   The Dead Sea is slightly more than 1,300 feet below sea level.  When you get into it, you float ON it, not swim in it.  You float on your back; if you turn on your stomach and any water splashes in your eyes, they burn and you have to hurry, which is difficult, to the shore to rinse your eyes out.  So you float on your back.

   The water feels thick.  It is not cold, but at this time of year, not hot either; it's tepid.  On a Friday, the Muslim holy day, there are many Palestinian men here.  I came with my friend Khitam and her friend Maysa.  There were three older women in swimsuits, two of whom were visitors from Europe, and one young Palestinian woman who floated in her clothes, including her head scarf.  For Palestinian women who follow the traditions of "modest dress," this is their bathing costume of choice.  She was with her husband who wore a bathing suit and floated around with her until she decided to get out and sit in the sun.

Good mud

   Several men and two of the women at some point covered themselves in the greenish mud which is good for the skin and maybe more.  Khitam, too, did this, and I said I'd do it next time I came.  Some men brought narghiles, water pipes, to smoke on the beach.  Playtime for the boys!

   There was lots of white skin and bellies, mostly, if not exclusively, on people who are not Palestinian.  Around The Dead Sea there is an Israeli area, a Palestinian area and a Jordanian area. We were in the Israeli area because it was closest to where we came from and the area that Khitam and Mayla knew.  Because it was Friday, we heard more Arabic than Hebrew.

   I heard a very funny story, prompted by the life guard's whistle and his voice over a bull horn telling some men to come back who had floated way out; it's a huge lake.  One day, a man fell asleep while floating near this beach.  He began to float further and further out, and the life guard called to him to return, then assumed that he'd heard and turned his attention elsewhere.  The man didn't wake up until he was close to the Jordanian side of the lake.  He was returned without a problem, except that he may have had trouble sleeping that night.

Notice the young Muslim woman with her husband

   Last night, we went to Ramallah to see a new play at Astar Theatre, a play they had developed with a director from England.  48 MINUTES FOR PALESTINE is the title in English.  1948 is the year Israel was established after a war between future Israelis and the Arabs.  

   The play was acted without words.  There was original music, composed by a Palestinian musician.  One of the two actors, Edward Muallem, is one of the founders of Astar Theatre; the other is Iman Aoun, his wife and the theater's artistic director.

   The play worked!  I was impressed with the concept, the acting, the staging, everything.  When it was over, Khitam looked at her watch: 48 minutes!  The play told its story in movement, use of simple props, facial expression, sound and light.  Its plot is simple: a woman has a small living space, an older man arrives with a suitcase, the woman offers him water, and then he begins to set up his living in her space.  Eventually, it becomes his space and she is outside it, with the suitcase.  Simple plot, powerful story.  Afterwards, Khitam and I went out for a glass of wine with Edward and Inam and a Palestinian actress returning from Zurich to perform in a theater festival in Amman, Jordan.  She and Riham Isaac, the actress in 48 MINUTES both trained at Astar, among other places.  The conversation about the play, about Palestine and about Auguste Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed could have gone on all night.  I'd love to figure out a way to bring the play and some workshops to Maine and New England.  Ah, moneymoneymoney!

   I'm going to stop now and pick up again tomorrow.  Off to Jerusalem to see an old friend.

The Dead Sea, looking across to Jordan

"To be on the map"

   I asked Yousef Awad what his dream was, what he wanted most.  "To be on the map."

Yousef & Khitam

   Yousef Awad Shalabi is a founder and the director of The Jenin Creative Cultural Center.  The Center is five years old; its offices are on the fourth floor of a walk-up five story building in downtown Jenin, a town of abourt 50,000, of which almost 20,000 are in the Palestinian refugee camp just above the town.  The Jenin camp became famous in 2002 when Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) invaded the camp.
   "The staff" of this remarkable little organization is Houda, a young Palestinian woman, and Yousef.  Houda porbably gets paid but not much; Yousef no.  Sound familiar, like too many non-profits doing good work?  Houda was wearing a full length robe over her clothes and her hair was covered.  She was quiet and I initially assumed she spoke only Arabic; however, I later discovered that she spoke very good English.  When I left I noticed she was reading THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, in English,  no small undertaking for a native speaker!  When in other lands, we monolingual Americans are often reminded how limited we are by our failure to take language and culture seriously, but that is a topic for another conversation.
   Yousef's Center has brought many volunteers from Europe, England and the States to Jenin to work with young people in the Center, which has limited space, and in schools and outside in the summer.  An Italian theater company produced a play with them that traveled to Italy for several performances.  A Irish artist did art projects with the kids; an American musician played for them and did workshops; a Dutch musician did music workshops with teachers and students, showing them ways to make music without instruments, which reminded me of some of the work Jim Hall does with our Spindleworks ensemble at The Theater Project.  A lot of remarkable projects and this on a shoe string budget.  Yousef is finding out that his primary task is raising money for the Center's work.
   I asked him what his dream is.  "To be on the map," he said, meaning for Palestine to receive recognition as a country and no longer be occupied.  "And after that?" I asked.  "To get my Ph.D."  He has a masters from Sweden in public policy and peace works.  He is a smart and committed man.  Since the wall went up, his family has been challenged by the fact that his wife, an Israeli Palestinian - yes, there are Palestinians in Israel, about a million of them, 20% of the population, I think - was from a village on the western or Israeli side of the wall and they lived - and live - on the eastern or Palestinian side of the wall.  For her to "establish residence" in their village on the Palestinian side of the wall probably means she loses her Israeli passport, which results in numerous limitations with the occupation.  After waiting to figure out a solution, they have finally decided that she will officially live on the Palestinian side of the wall and then deal with the consequences.
   "Consequences."  Here's an example of the difficulties brought about by the wall: one of their three children broke his - or her - leg at age four.  By the time they got to the check point, it was a little after 5:00, and the check point closed at 5:00, and probably still does.  The hospital was on the other side, so they had to wait until the next morning to cross through the check point and get their child with the broken leg to the hospital.

A village on the way to Jenin

   The wall and the check points are dehumanizing for Palestinians and sometimes their visitors, but mostly for the Palestinians.  Soldiers do not smile, though Khitam and I got a smile out of one last night by acting a little crazy in the car while waiting for traffic to proceed.  He looked about eighteen.  I suspect smiling, engaging those you have, in effect, taken hostage - you've taken their country hostage - engages them, humanizes them and that is something you don't want.  They are "the other," not human beings.  If they become human beings, it is more difficult to keep them hostage and treat them like cattle, even if they're cattle who are sick or pregnant or have a broken leg.  And I think fear is a major factor, on both sides.

Yousef's family's bakery - YUM!

   After hearing about the Center's activities and discussing a possible collaboration next year, it was time to go. "What would you like to eat?"  Yousef asked.  "Nothing.  Please nothing.  We will -"  "What?  Impossble!  You can't come here and not be my guests for lunch."  So it goes in the Palestinian and Arab world.  Every visit includes a meal.  We agreed on a small meal, a sandwich, so we went to a little shop for schwarma and flafel.  There were two other larger tables in the room, both filled with French- speaking visitors.  Yousef heard one of them speaking Arabic and asked him if they had seen a famous church in the area, the fourth oldest church in the world, he thought.  They had and it turns out the one speaking Arabic was born in San Francisco, moved to New York, and is now living in Jenin.  Small world.  Again and again we discover this and wonder why, if it's so "small," we can't get along better.

The horse sculpture

   Yousef gave us a quick tour of Jenin and then we had to leave.  It was getting late and the drive, without being held up at check points, would take two hours and we had to make one stop.  One of the last things we saw before saying good-bye to Yousef was the statue of a horse, fashioned by a German sculptor out of cars that were destroyed in the 2002 IDF incursion into the refugee camp.
   The stop was in Nablus for Palestine's most famous knafe bil jibneh.  I mentioned it in an earlier blog: Ahmad and I had knafe in old Jerusalem, "the best knafe in the old city," he said.  "I once had knafe in Nablus," I said, "which my friends told me -"  "Oh, Nablus!" he interrupted.  "That's the best in Palestine."  Nablus was crowded - Thursday night is like Friday night in the States, Friday here being the equivalent of our Sunday.  Khitam found a place she could squeeze her Korean car into and after asking several people for "abu Falha kanafe," because if it is "abu Falha," it is true Nablus kanafe.  We found the place, which was very busy on a Thursday night and got our kanafe, which was pretty much the dish of the evening.  After we'd each had a piece, Khitam looked at me, hesitated, and then said: "Wanna share one more piece?"  I started to say no, but hesitated, then said, "Sure, I'll have a little."  We shared another piece, I ate half, not "a little," and we hurried out after paying before we were tempted to eat more.  Another hour and we were home.
   On the drive home, we talked more about Palestine and Israel.  About Israeli Jews, Khitam said: "Those born here after 1948, no one's gonna push them out.  It's stupid to even mention it.  And, they are most welcome if I am.  That means the same rights for everyone."  Sounds a little like everyone's being entitled to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."  Of course in those days, our forefathers were not really considering slaves and Native Americans as "everyone," were they.
   More tomorrow.
  

A couple of photos and a few words from Palestine

   Greetings and salutations.  I don't know why the giant photo of old Jerusalem at night dominates my blog all of a sudden.  No doubt some button I pressed. and maybe it will disappear with this post.  Allah byaref. (God knows)  Yesterday was full and I have a lot of catching up to do.

Hand painted

Palestinian Pottery

   I went to Palestinian Pottery, a place I first visited in 1962, with Margy, when she was pregnant with Wendy.  At that time, two families ran it.  They came to Jerusalem from Turkey around 1920 to repair the tiles in The Dome of the Rock and then decided to stay, since life for Armenians in Turkey then was rough.  When we first visited, the two families were still working together.  Soon after, they went their separate ways: now one family is here, near the old city, and the other family has a shop inside the old city, near The Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  I met, Neshan, the current owner/director and designer.  He said that in 1962, his grandfather, who was the one who came to Jerusalem in 1920 with the grandfather of the other family, would still have been throwing pots, and the man I talked to would have been Neshan's father.  Neshan was working in Washington as a ceramic's designer when his father was diagnosed with Parkinson's so he came back to run the business.  "It was a difficult decision to leave D.C., but continuing the family tradition was more important."

Room in Rafat's home

Rafat, mom & ma'loubi

   I got together with Mohammed and Rafat in old Jerusalem.  They came to Maine with Khitam to our Teen Drama Camp seven years ago.  They're twenty-two now.  I met Rafat first; Muhammed was working.  Rafat and I started down a narrow way and before we got very far he said: "This is my house, and pointed to a door.  He unlocked it and I followed him into his "house" inside old Jerusalem.  We walked upstairs and sat in a small "sitting room" where there was a pitcher of lemonade and glasses.  After a few minutes, Rafat's mother appeared and greeted me, first in Arabic, I think because I greeted her in Arabic, and then in pretty good English.  "Welcome.  Welcome.  Ahlan wa sahlan.  Welcome."  After a bit, Rafat asked if I wanted to see the view from the roof.  While we were gone, his mother laid out a meal of ma'loubi, a chicken, rice and vegetables dish that is a favorite here.  There was also salad and some garnishes.  I was not very hungry, but that didn't matter. I barely got away with only one helping!

Rafat & Muhammed

Later, Muhammed joined us, refused food five or six times before Rafat's mother relented, and we had coffee and then went out to wander in Medieval Jerusalem.  When we left, Rafat's mother said: "You have two homes now.  This is your home in Jerusalem."
We wandered the city, talking about Muhammed's work - he's with an electric company, starting as a meter-reader and billing clerk, and hopes to work his way up, after two years of studying business.  We talked about Rafat's hope to study business - he started but had to stop to study Hebrew in order to continue at the Hebrew University.  He would like to go out of the country to study, maybe to Italy, where his brother, who knows English, French, German, Italian, Spanish and Arabic, is getting his Masters in business.

Old Jerusalem

   Muhammed has a car, and Khitam was going to be another hour before we got together, so we drove up to the Mount of Olives to catch the night view of the city.  The lights of the old city and of developments outside the city walls were a sparkling reminder of how fascinating old Jerusalem is and of how new developments are spreading.  I prefer the old, but then, I am old.  Jerusalem is full of cars and tour buses and housing developments and government plans that squeeze Palestinians.  I respect Israeli ingenuity and decry some of the results.  More, tomorrow.

  

Mr. Ridge's Class Blog from Grampa Al

Visually impaired students

   Yesterday, my friend Khitam (you can pronounce her name "Kit - ahm" but here the 'kh' has a little growl to it; I'll show you when I get back to Maine) took me with her to work in the Helen Keller School in Jerusalem.  Do you all know who Helen Keller was?

Rafat & his mother and "a snack"

   These are five of the students she worked with.  She also worked with a group of 5 and 6 year olds and a group of 10 and 11 year olds.  They're like you except for vision: they are blind or have trouble seeing.  Khitam uses arts - drawing, painting, dance and theater - to help them learn and be excited about learning.  She and they have a lot of fun together.

   I also visited the home of a former student who came to Maine seven years ago, lived at my house in Arrowsic with another Palestinian student and my friend Khitam and participated in our summer teen theater camp at The Theater Project.  His name is Rafat and he is now 22!  It was very good to see him.  He lives in a small apartment in old Jerusalem and invited me in to have some lemonade and a snack.  The "snack" was ma'loubi, a chicken and rice and vegetable dish that is verrrrrry good.  (pronounced "mah - lubi" but when you say the "mah," you stop quickly after the 'h'; remind me to show you how when I get back).  Not only ma'loubi but also salad and other vegetables.  Rafat's mother tried to get me to eat several servings but I couldn't.  Palestinians, in fact most Arabs I have met, are very hospitable!  When you visit them, you HAVE to eat something with them, and if they have very little, if they are poor, they will still offer you food and give you whatever they have.

Rafat & Muhamed

   While I was with Rafat and his mother, Muhamed arrived, the other former student who stayed with me in Arrowsic and did the summer teen camp.  Remember what I said about "Muhamed," how the name can be spelled many ways (Mohamed, Muhamed, Mohammed, Muhammad...)?  Don't be surprised if I spell it differently!  I may forget how I wrote it the last time.

   Muhamed is working for the electric company that provides electricity Jerusalem.  He went to college for two years, studied business, and now has this job.  He also lives in old Jerusalem with his family, and he has a car.  The trouble with having a car there is parking: you cannot bring a car into the old city so he has found a place outside near his sister's apartment.  

A room in Rafat's family apartment

Old Jerusalem at night

   After we walked around old Jerusalem for a while, Muhamed took us in his car to the Mount of Olives where we had a wonderful view of Jerusalem.  I'll end this blog with a photo of Rafat's apartment and another of old Jerusalem at night.  See the Dome of the Rock in the Jerusalem picture? And look at the ceiling of Rafat's apartment in a building that has been there a loooonnnnnng time.

Jerusalem

Ahnad, Khitam's husband, & the wall

   I'm having a little more trouble with this blog than I anticipated, having just erased one I'd finished before starting one to Williams-Cone School 5th graders.  No doubt I can/could reclaim it somehow, but instead, I'm forging ahead: one step forward, one back; two steps forward, one back...

Out of the bus, onto the road, going home

   First, the wall.  It separates "them" from "us," always a bad way to organize.  The "us" is the Israelis on the western side of the wall, with incursions into "the West Bank," which is considered Palestine...or is it?  The "them" is the Palestinians on the eastern side of the wall.  It stretches from Bethlehem, south of Jerusalem, north to I-don't-know-where.  It is very much like the wall of a penitentiary.  There is graffiti on the eastern side, some of it very creative, some touching, some scribbling; on the western side, I have seen no art work, good or bad.  The wall is about twenty feet high, a constant reminder to Palestinians that they are occupied.  Its effect is depressing and strange.  As my friend Khitam said about the wall: "You know, the strange thing is, we're getting used to it.  If we woke up one day and it was gone, we'd wonder where it was, what happened."
   One of the effects of this occupation where Khitam and Ahmad live is that there is no traffic direction on the eastern side of the wall because the authority in this area is Israel, not Palestine, and Israel apparently choses not to handle traffic, unless it's going INTO Jerusalem.  The Palestinian police are not allowed to manage traffic in this area so drivers are left to fend for themselves and the result is chaos at busy times of day, with a few brave souls trying to help with ad hoc traffic direction.  There is also no - or very little - trash collection, so the roadside is often littered in these districts.

Inside old Jerusalem

   But on to Jerusalem and the old city.  The old city is medieval.  The city whose by Christ walked carrying a cross is at least ten feet below the city whose ancient stones you can walk today.  The busiest entrance seems to be the Damascus Gate.  Once inside, you see women in traditional dress, sitting on the pavement of large ancient stones, with fresh greens spread out beside or in front of them.  Their heads are covered and their dresses are black with embroidered bodices (I hope my word selection and anatomical geography are correct).  These are not new dresses nor do the women have closets full of them.  On tables behind the women are displays of socks, underwear, blouses, shirts, pants, and more.  Beyond the women are tables with fruits and vegetables, often manned by hawkers who shout out their goods and prices.

Candy in old Jerusalem

Spices

   Then it's into the warren of byways; no highways here.  Or roads.  There are no cars inside most of the old city.  There are carts and bikes, though not many of the later, and some roller skates, but mostly feet.  The smells and sights are, if not overwhelming, at least whelming.  Much of what you see you don't really want and then the scent of a spice shop stops you or the sight of Arabic sweets on trays makes your mouth water.  "Ah," you think, "what would I cook with some of that?" or "I could use a sweet right now."  Ahmad and I did stop at a sweets shop that specialized in kanafe bil jibne, an Arabic sweet that's sort of a combination of shredded wheat and a sweet creamy cheese, bathed in a sweet syrup.  I didn't "need" it and it tasted awful good!  I developed a taste for it in the sixties in Lebanon.  Here, they talk about the difference between a knafe in Jerusalem and one in Nablus: "Ah, Nablus.  That's the REAL kanafe."
   That's enough for now, though there is so much more to tell.   Onward tomorrow, insha'allah, to catch up with today.  And onward right now to a blog for the Williams-Cone School 5th graders.



                                       WILLIAMS - CONE SCHOOL 5th Graders

   Greetings from just outside the city of Jerusalem, a city that is very VERY important to Christians, Muslims and Jews.  It is the city where Christ was crucified.  It is the city from which Mohamed, whose name is spelled many ways, rose to heaven to get the words of the Muslim holy book, The Koran.  And for Jews, it is the city of David Solomon and the great temple.

An arch and a church steeple

   The old city of Jerusalem is several hundred years old.  We call it a medieval city, for that's the period in history this Jerusalem was built.  It has a wall around it to protect the people inside, and it has churches and mosques and temples that are hundreds of years old.  he Jerusalem that Christ walked in is at least ten feet below the road you walk on today.   Today's Jerusalem has lots of people and lots of tourists.
   I was in old Jerusalem for several hours yesterday and a few hours today, and I heard Japanese, Italian, German, English, French and of course, Arabic and Hebrew, the languages of the people who share Jerusalem.  Guides were giving tours to groups of people, some of whom must have arrived on buses and were seeing as much as they could in the time that they had.

The Dome of the Rock & a minaret 

   One of the places they must have seen is The Dome of the Rock, a very holy mosque for Muslims.  It is said that Mohamed rose from large rock inside the mosque and ascended to heaven to get the word of God fir The Koran, the Muslim holy book.
   Have you heard of a "minaret"?  It's a like a tower connected to a mosque, and five times a day, a "muezzin" calls people to prayer.  That "muezzin" is like a singer announcing an important event.  Although there are still muezzins at some mosques, others have a recording of the call to prayer that they play through loud speakers high up in the minaret.  When a muezzin has a good voice, the call to prayer sounds sweet and strong.  If the voice is not so good, or if you're standing too close to the loudspeakers, it doesn't sound so good.
   In the picture of The Dome of the Rock and a minaret, you can also see "the wailing wall, the big wall below the mosque.  That is a very holy place for Jews, said to be part of the Temple of Solomon from Biblical times.
   So there is a lot of the past and a lot of the present here.  I'll try to post another blog for you tomorrow, with more pictures.  You can comment on the blogs if you want to and I'd like to know what you think and if you have any questions.
   Study enough, and maybe a little extra, but not too much.  Get some exercise and drink your juice.
   Hi, Temple!
                                                                                                                           Grampa Al


                                            

First full day in Jerusalem

Brad & Joachim playing in the mine.

Entrance to the salt mine

   Before I get to Jerusalem, here are a couple of photos of Joachim and Brad playing jazz in a salt mine 450 beneath the surface in Poland near Krakow.  The acoustics were great and so was the music.  They had fun and so did the audience.
   After an intermission midway through the two hour concert, they called five people on stage: four kids and an adult.  Each was to play one note on the piano, their contribution to an original composition.  This done, and the volunteers seated, Joachim and Brad proceeded to play, to invent, a jazzy tune using those five notes, and a few others.  The audience was delighted.  I was p impressed, with the music and with the idea.          
  After the concert, we were treated to a delicious meal at a terrific restaurant that is part of the salt mine complex.  Joachim and Brad were guests because they had played the concert.  Beata, Joachim's wife, was a guest because she had helped arrange the concert.  I was a guest because I was the roady: I carried the CDs.
   Nice gig, you know what I mean?
   On to Palestine.

First full day in Jerusalem

Brad & Joachim playing in the mine.

Entrance to the salt mine

   Before I get to Jerusalem, here are a couple of photos of Joachim and Brad playing jazz in a salt mine 450 beneath the surface in Poland near Krakow.  The acoustics were great and so was the music.  They had fun and so did the audience.
   After an intermission midway through the two hour concert, they called five people on stage: four kids and an adult.  Each was to play one note on the piano, their contribution to an original composition.  This done, and the volunteers seated, Joachim and Brad proceeded to play, to invent, a jazzy tune using those five notes, and a few others.  The audience was delighted.  I was p impressed, with the music and with the idea.            
  After the concert, we were treated to a delicious meal at a terrific restaurant that is part of the salt mine complex.  Joachim and Brad were guests because they had played the concert.  Beata, Joachim's wife, was a guest because she had helped arrange the concert.  I was a guest because I was the roady: I carried the CDs.
   Nice gig, you know what I mean?
   On to Palestine.

Leaving Krakow, Poland

   Sunday night, and I'm out tomorrow morning for Tel Aviv.  Tonight, I went with the Mencels and Beata's mom and dad to a salt mine to hear Joachim and Brad play a concert, 450 feet down into the former mine.  A large space has been converted into a concert hall.  There is also a hotel and a larger space for grander events in the mine.  Joachim and Brad played a great concert, starting the second half by calling five people from the audience - four of them kids - each to play a note on the piano, and then the duet fashioned a tune out of the five notes.  Remarkable and swinging it was and the audience loved it.

Terrific Ukrainian Musician

Mencel family

   Yesterday we went into the central square in Krakow, one of the largest in Europe at 200 meters by 200 meters, a huge space.  A crowd in a circle was watching four guys hip hopping and breakdancing, or is the latter a part of the former.  This old guy is not with it enough enough to know, but they were good, spinning on their heads, shoulders, on one hand.  Remarkable stuff.  I didn't get a picture of them but I did get some of other scenes in the square, full of costumes and music and families.

Robert

   I saw Robert, an old friend who worked three summers at The Theater Project in our teen camp, bringing two Polish boys with him the last two years, Pawel and Gzegorze, whose name I have never learned to spell.  Robert looks the same and is the same kind, gentle witty man.
   Today, dinner with ten in Joachim and Beata's small apartment.  She and her mother cooked up a feast for us that sustained the musicians through their concert and fattened up everybody else.  I hope they can come visit next summer, before their oldest is a university student.
   And away I go.

Krakow, Poland, again

Tosia and Joachim

Oops!  I forget Tosia, number 3!

Krakow, Poland

   Greetings from Krakow, Poland.  I'm still practicing for blogging from Palestine.
   I arrived yesterday at 12:30 PM, after an hour and a half in Munich.  The flight from Boston to Munich was fine, as was Munich to Krakow, though the wind was a-blowin' in Krakow.  It's chilly here, as it may be there.  I'm staying with Joachim and Beata Mencel and their three kids.  Joachim is the piano player Brad Terry often plays with, when the two are in the same place.  Brad is here so they're in the same place now and playing a final concert in Poland tomorrow in an abandoned salt mine.  I'll try to take photos and blog about it tomorrow night.  Monday morning I'm off to Tel Aviv, via Munich, and Brad is headed back to the States.
   The Mencels have three kids: Veronika, 17; Janek, 12; Tosia, 9, all together in a four room apartment with a bathroom - not what you'd call extra space but they make do with a little shuffling of sleeping places and Beata tending to the kids and food like a mom-hostess extraordinaire.

"Here it is, Brad," says Beata, as she shows him on the computer.

   Here are a couple of photos of the family.
   I haven't yet figured out how to adjust the photos beyond placing them left, right or center.  Hence, this layout.

Joachim, Janek and Veronika

What am I leaving?

The little lighthouse that does.

   I'm still practicing with camera and laptop.  Yesterday I walked out to our lovely little lighthouse for a few photos to practice posting with.  So, here goes.  Eventually, I will become somewhat facile at this, insha'allah (God willing).  Whether that prove true or not, I'll soon be posting from the Middle East, unless my aging brain drains what little it has so far retained of Heather's training.  Some nice interior rhymes in there, perhaps portending a poetic string of posts in the near future.

Birches on the way to the lighthouse.

   Thanks for tuning in, those who are.

Another practice session

   I'm working with Heather, "solidifying" my "skills" posting photos.  Don't go away...or, go away and come back in a week.  The BIG news: Ahmad got his visa, so Khitam and Ahmad are having their wedding party November 5 in Acre!  WHOOPEE!
   Okay, we're getting somewhere.  Heather says, "You figured it out, not me."  If that's the case, the blogosphere is in big trouble.
   Over and out.

A week to go

   It's Thursday, a week before I leave, and I'm "practicing," that is, practicing doing this blog.  As a cyber caveman, I have been directed to post another blog, so here it is.
   I talked with Khitam today.  She's in East Jerusalem, and I'll be staying with her and Ahmad, her man, soon to be husband.  I'm eager to see her at her work and to do some work myself; also, to connect with some people in Jenin, to visit The Freedom Theatre there; to visit Duha in Ramallah, and Haneen; and, insha'allah, to get to Bethlehem and connect with some people there.  In all of these places, I'll be doing workshops when there is an opportunity, and talking with people, learning what is happening and how people are living and coping.  The last time I was there, 1998, there was no wall and there was hope for some sort of agreement, but it came to naught.
   The next entry will be from Palestine or from Krakow, Poland, where I'm stopping to visit friends, "on the way."

Beginnings

I'll be leaving for Palestine in a couple of weeks and I intend to post regularly what I'm seeing, doing and learning.  I'll also be posting photos if I retain the lessons Heather is teaching me as I approach this journey.  This will be my first time back to Palestine or anywhere else in the Middle East since 1998.

I'll be staying with my friend Khitam Edelbi in East Jerusalem.  Khitam is a bright and energetic Palestinian who spent several summers working in our summer program at The Theater Project and then visiting while she completed a BA and continued for an MA in Creative Arts Therapy at Lesley University in Cambridge.  She is a remarkable woman, a good friend and she has returned to do good work with young people and adults in Palestine.  She's also about to get married, she and Ahmad.  I'm excited and delighted that I'll be there for their wedding.

So, if this interests you, start checking this blog around October 24.  I'm not sure yet what path I'll be taking to Tel Aviv, so I don't know yet when I'll arrive.