Beer Sheva and the Dead Sea

In the beginning we arrived at the Holy Land. Naturally, the first thing we noticed in the airport is a legion of Russian Orthodox nuns, decked out in white blankets covering their Russian heads, with red crosses drawn on their foreheads. We people-watched them while waiting in the passport check line, trying to guess whether these Orthodox nuns are here to help Palestinians or Israelis.




After getting through the passport check, it took us about 2 minutes to find our reservations with the Dollar rental car company. Then it took us 1.5 hours to learn the following:

1. The Dollar stand is not inside the airport;

2. The shuttle to rental car companies only goes to five rental car companies, but not Dollar;

3. The other shuttle to all-things-around-the-airport does not go to Dollar either;

4. Dollar sucks;

5. Upon a phone call, Dollar sends an unmarked white van to pick up customers from the airport at Departures;

6. The insurance on the vehicle costs 1.5 times the cost of renting it; and no, it's not mentioned on the website.

With all that new information, we were ready to hit the road on our brand spanking new Hyundai. The good news: it had an A/C, automatic transmission, and four doors. The not-as-good: size-wise, it was just a little shy of a Smart Car. Had we brought any luggage it would have had to have gone on the roof. Still, this little-Korean-engine-that-could got us to my grandparents' apartment in Beer-Sheva. Hello Russian food, 85 F day and night, furniture that smells like old people, and card games. And so we retired to sleep through our first 85-degree night here.







In the morning we began the search for shekels. Unfortunately, September is holiday month for the Jewish people, counting about 11 holidays and rendering everything but the BIG Supermarket ("Mamman says it's the cheapest in the country") closed. We found ourselves in the Old City in front of the locked up Exchange Place, surrounded by stray dogs and doves, old business signs hanging off the building, and a sand-filled defunct fountain (marking the original well of Abraham). I saw a man rising from a nap on a bench nearby and remembered that my mom used to exchange currency with one David, right down the street from the Exchange Place. While we were studying the Exchange Place for signs of life, the man was studying us for signs of cash. I asked him whether he is David. He said he was in a voice that sounded more like "I could be." I’m not sure whether this was my mom's David, or whether the guy exchanges currency on a regular basis, but within 15 minutes he was back with enough shekels to exchange our $200 without commission. Handshaken and we're off.

As we were passing through the mall in search of a fan for those 85-degree nights, I felt someone touching me with something. The someone was a rando-rabbi and the something was a lemon, which the rando-rabbi wanted me to bless for Sukkot per the tradition. I thought of the quickest (albeit not the most honest) way to say no, and told him I was not Jewish. He quickly snatched his lemon and paced away, as if my touch would desecrate his citrus. Onwards.




The Jewish population in Israel is composed of mainly Morroccans, Russians, and Ethiopians. These varieties are easily recognizable by their everyday activities:

Probability (in %) that the person is a _______ Jew, when one is seen performing the following:	Morroccan	Russian	Ethiopian
Takes daily showers	90%	5%	5%
Drives a car	70%	28%	2%
Works at an Israeli McDonalds	0%	0%	100%
Eats at an Israeli McDonalds	98%	0%	2%*
Has a pork dinner on Yom Kippur	0%	100%	0%
Gets in front of you in the line. Any line.	100%	0%	0%




* Limited to orders misplaced by Morroccans.




Last and lowest, we spent a whole day in the Dead Sea, descending over 400 meters below the sea level to the lowest place on earth. On the way, Abby photographed an Arab man in full costume on a camel. She also captured the view of the Sea's surface, still as a mirror, since the water is too heavy with salt and minerals to be moved by wind. Because the Dead Sea is full of spa-grade minerals, it is impossible to sink in it. That's right -- you will float no matter what. Which is why we found the presence of a lifeguard a bit puzzling. After some floating, photographing, and mud-smearing (it's part of the therapeutical treatment), we were off to fill up on overpriced gas ($8/gallon, God Bless America) and return home to the cards, furniture, and 85-degree night number 3.