There's No Place Like Home

I was in Greece for 9 days.  When I arrived on Sunday, June 16th I hardly knew what to expect, having heard mixed reports.  Most people told me that Athens was hardly worth a visit and to spend as little time there as possible – that it was dirty and nothing much to see.  Only one person raved about it.  She loves the history and the ruins in and around Athens and couldn’t speak more highly of the city. I went with an open mind.  I found a combination of both.

I had rented an apartment through AirBNB for four nights.  As the taxi entered the neighborhood the driver commented that this was a dangerous neighborhood, that I should not be out after dark by myself and to be careful showing signs of being a tourist, such as using a map and a camera.  This started a level of anxiety for the first 36 hours that was indescribable and unshakable.    

The neighborhood was one of many immigrants, primarily from the Middle East, but lacked the beauty and interest of the various ethnicities. With businesses closed on Sunday there was very little activity.   There were, however, plenty of seedy looking men just hanging out on the streets where I had to walk to get to more populated locations.   I couldn’t ignore the comment made by my cab driver and was very, very nervous especially leaving and returning to the apartment for dinner. The next day was Monday and the streets and neighborhoods were hopping, and I felt much better.  I found “the other side” of Athens which was actually quite lovely.  The city had gone through a comprehensive makeover in preparation for the 2004 Olympics, and there were several neighborhoods that had unique and interesting personalities.

One place I went to on Monday was the Athens Central Market. The Greeks are big meat eaters, and there are more meat vendors in this market than every other type added together.  “Butcher Rows” as I’d call them contained easily 20-30 individual meat vendors.  My first vision was of several skinned rabbits hanging on hooks with fur remaining on their tails and paws remaining.  The farther I journeyed into these rows the more I was grossed out by other animals hanging on hooks – with and without their fur.  Yuck!  I not only didn’t take anymore pictures, I deleted the one of the rabbits – poor bunnies.

The rest of the market had similar fare as many others in the Mediterranean, but I had the most fun buying olives – I think the guy in the olive market thought I was crazy when I said I wanted 5 olives of 5 different types, rather than a specific weight of any one type. There were so many to choose from. He was very accommodating and offered his suggestions about the five different types to choose.  He was also very cute.

Many kinds of olives

My patient olive guy

  

 Andrea was arriving at 3:00 AM Tuesday morning.  She has traveled all over the world but this was a country where we didn’t know the language, and she was arriving at night to a neighborhood that was less than desirable.  Additionally, our communication technology was not reliable – so how would I know when she arrived by taxi at the apartment. The cab driver that had originally brought me from the airport was very nice and we arranged that he would pick Andrea up from the airport.  Although I thought that was a good idea originally, I could not get rid of my anxiety around her arrival at the apartment.  I finally decided that I needed to go to the airport with him to meet her.   The driver picked me up at 2:00 AM and once she arrived and  I saw her walk through the gate I finally felt better.    Now I started to enjoy Greece.

We started our day on the little balcony of our apartment with breakfast of tomatoes and cucumbers, cheese and olives I had purchased at the Central Market the previous day.  

The Olympics and Greek flags

    

Where's my king?

Andrea and I are both big sports enthusiasts, hence our mutual selection of the original Olympic Stadium as our favorite among all the sites we visited in Greece.   This stadium was build to host the first “modern” Olympic games in 1896.  As we walked around the stadium that holds 80,000 spectators in seats of marble, we could imagine the king and queen of Greece sitting in the special seats constructed for their “comfort” and clear view of the activities.  The fact that the father of one of Andrea’s co-workers had actually pole vaulted in front of the Greek royalty many years  ago added a little bit of extra excitement to the visit.  

We imagined the events that have occurred in this stadium over the last century with the cheering and celebration by the large crowds. As we walked through the long tunnel from which the athletes enter the stadium we both recalled our participation in the Maccabee Games in Baltimore in 2002 with Andrea as an athlete and me as the delegation head, and the thrill of  proudly marching out onto the field representing our city. 

We started our visit to the top Acropolis late in the afternoon in order to avoid the intense

The Parthenon

heat of the day, and it was still plenty hot.  Armed with our hats and water we trekked up the hills and stairs leading to the plateau.  There was quite a bit of restoration going on throughout the entire site, which we recognize as important, but somehow it made it harder to let our imaginations take us back to the ancient era when there was so much historical activity occurring.  It was a surprise and somewhat of a disappointment to find the Parthenon largely encased in scaffolding for its restoration, which was scheduled to have been completed in 2009.  

The view from the top, however, was spectacular, enabling us to see the expanse of the city of Athens and beyond, including the Temple of Zeus which I had visited the day before.  One tidbit of information we learned was that there is a law in Athens that prevents the construction of any buildings higher than the Acropolis.  

View of the Temple of Zeus from the Acropolis

Close your eyes!

Early Wednesday morning we left Athens and took off for our much-anticipated trip to Santorini    We boarded a high speed ferry which took just under three hours. 

We want to officially give credit to the bus drivers on Santorini for keeping us alive.  Being at sea level, the ports of all of the islands are at the bottom of hills.  In order to get into Fira, the main town the buses drive up very windy, narrow roads during which we were positive we would fall of the edge of the road.  Imagine busses going up these roads, with cars and other busses coming the other direction. These were “eyes closed” rides.

We had many memorable moments and observations in Santorini but what we will remember most is the indescribable beauty of the island and its environs. Santorini is an extremely hilly island and the towns are at the top of the very high hills and extend down the sides toward the volcano.   Lots and lots of steps to get anywhere and everywhere.  Santorini is not the location of choice for people with bad knees – even those who have had knee replacements - but it was worth it!

View from the top of the volcano

One day we took a sailboat to the volcano where we hiked to the top over paths of black lava, then sailed to hot springs where we swam in water heated by the internal energy of the volcano which is close to 1000 degrees centigrade. The view from the top of the crater across the water to Santorini island was breathtaking.

Black sand beach

Due to the volcano’s influence the island is not well known for its beaches - they are very rocky and gravelly.  We did go to the black sand beach where we found find that we could still enjoy the sunshine, beautiful scenery and clear, bright blue water, despite the rocky entrance required before finding the flat sandy surface 10-12 feet into the water from the shore.

The island is also known for its sunsets.  It was hard to imagine anything more beautiful than the sunset in the main town of Fira, where we ate our first dinner and had our first sunset siting.  We went to the town of Oia (pronounced “ee-a”) one evening to see the more famous sunset and found the colors to be even more spectacular.  The pinks and orange hues continued well beyond the completion of its descent for at least an hour.  We figured out that we’d seen sunsets in every city we visited, but the one in Oia was by far the best.

One of the many beautiful sunsets

Oia is also the location of the white buildings and blue domed churches that represent Santorini in Web sites, tour books and travel brochures.  It looks just like the pictures.  Another tidbit - reasons for the colors.  In addition to white reflecting the heat, white is the color of lime, and when mixed with water it naturally disinfects the rainwater that was collected on the rooftops.  Also during the 400 year Ottoman occupation Greeks were not allowed to fly their blue and white flag.  Painting the domes blue was the way that the village demonstrated their defiance and showed their colors.  (We still haven't figured out why the domes in Mykonos are red!)

Oia, Santorini - this is a real photograph

Our final two days were spent in Mykonos, which is quite different from Santorini.  The topography is much different – it’s much less hilly, has sandy, beautiful beaches and there less to see and do than Santorini.  

The beach at Mykonos

The beach is life and we had no problem with this.  We stayed in Mykonos town for the two days and had the choice of many different beaches, all connected by frequent bus service.  We tried two very different beaches, both having comfortable lounge chairs, sunshine and warm,  clear blue water.  The differing shades of blue were fascinating and made the vision even more stunning.

Bus service to the beaches from the main town of Mykonos starts very early in the morning and doesn’t end until after midnight.  This is a party island.  Paradise is the party beach, but now there’s a new beach called “Super Paradise” that seems to be the place to go, and it’s only accessible by boat.   I appreciated that Andrea was willing to have a late dinner, walk around the town and save the partying for her friends.  After all, no one handed ME any party brochures!

Evening quiet in Mykonos - no parties here

Oh – can't forget the food.  Every meal was simple, nothing fancy, and so fresh. Choices of mezas were extensive everywhere and there was no problem finding meat-free options. The new foods that we tried and loved included tomato croquettes, fava spread (on one menu called “mushed fava ), fresh yogurt with quince preserves, and a beet, garlic and yogurt dip that was served in several different restaurants, each in a different form.  Santorini is known for its produce, including the tiniest little tomatoes in the same shape as our usual grocery store tomatoes – but much smaller, much redder and much sweeter.   We had a fish dish in Mykonos that was so fantastic that I asked for and received the recipe – sea bass with tehini, stuffed with spinach.  Another amazing sea bass preparation was with a very thin mashed potato crust, and mashed potatoes pureed with celery. No restaurant food pictures – you’ll have to just wait to taste.

I found Greece to be a difficult place walk around in. Short of the beauty of the islands, the beaches and the food, it was a scary place.  Roads are narrow and drivers are crazy!!!  Really. There is no such thing as right of way, slowing down or stopping for pedestrians, particularly on the islands, but also in the city.  We saw no stop signs on Santorini or Mykonos; the drivers just go.  They don’t stop for anything.  Rental ATV’s and mopeds are everywhere, so you never know when either of these or a car might be coming down the road or around the corner.  We were very surprised that we didn’t see or weren't the victims of any pedestrian / motor vehicle accidents while we were there. 

Our final journey in Greece other than our ride to the airport was our return from Mykonos to Athens by overnight ferry. Little had we known that Monday was a holiday in Greece – the best explanation we got was that it was celebrating “spirit” in Greece – so we tried to be happy.   However, all of the ferries were sold out on Monday and we had flights on Tuesday afternoon and evening.  Our ferry left Mykonos at 1:10 AM.  Or I should say it was scheduled to leave at 1:10 AM.  Life is loose in Greece.  Everything is “on or about”.  This was true with busses, ferries, and other forms of transportation.  So we weren’t surprised that the ferry didn’t leave on time.  By 1:10 AM there was still no ferry to be seen.  There were many people waiting, including a lot of kids between 18-25.  I told Andrea it reminded me of the days of traveling through Europe on a Eur-rail pass (1972) with only a back pack, traveling at night to avoid spending precious days on trains. Here we were, sitting on the curb, waiting for the ferry to arrive.

Greece is also not very organized. If you know me at all, you know that I prefer order to chaos.  This was a big adjustment.  When the ferry arrived, the entire crowd rushed to the gangplank.  Every ticket needed to be checked and each person directed - and everyone in the crowd pushes to get ahead.  A second entrance was finally opened, but we had to carry our luggage up several flights of stairs in order to go to the “reception” desk to be directed to our cabin – we and hundreds of other people. 

We did finally get to our cabin which with two beds was pretty comfortable. We both slept for 5-6 hours, arriving in Piraeus (the Athens port) at 8:00 AM.  The same several hundred people crowded the stairwells to get down the steps and off the ferry.

I finished writing this post from the Aegean Airlines lounge at the airport where I had food, drink, Internet and relative quiet, waiting for my flight back to Israel.  I went to the airport early with Andrea.  I'm now back in Israel, where despite still not understanding the language very well, I do feel at home.

Almost Had to Convert to Russian Orthodoxy

This week I returned to Ein Keram in the Judean Hills. The last time I was there was early in my trip when I came to make kubbeh with Dahlia, but hadn't had time to explore the village.  

This day was very hot, and the area is very dry.  There are lots of hills, and I actually like climbing hills.  This Russian Orthodox monastery is at the top of the highest hill in the area.  It's beautiful and just stands out like a sparkling diamond.  I HAD to see it up close.

Reading the very simple map of the town I started following the road up the hill toward the church.  The higher I got, the more difficult it was to actually see my target which was hiding within the trees.  But I kept going, passing St Vincent's of Ein Keram, passing the Ein Keram youth hostel. 

Very old olive trees

I saw an open green gate with a sign for a convent, not a monastery, so I kept going until the road ended. Still not finding my destination I descended back to the convent and the open gate, and walked in to beautiful grounds with small cottages scattered throughout where the nuns live, each surrounded by beautiful gardens. Ancient terraces sprouted olive and almond trees.  The road narrowed but didn't flatten out.  There were no other "civilians" on the grounds, but none of the nuns stopped or questioned me.  I didn't realize they didn't speak Hebrew, so when I asked about the "church gadol" and each one pointed and directed me to follow the path UP the hill,  I thought they understood was I was asking for.

This was a long climb and I was tempted to stop several times;  my water bottle was just about half full, and it was hot. But I was determined to get to the top and now I could see the monastery peeking out through the trees - still higher than I was.

I finally reached the top, thankful to see a bathroom.  After taking advantage of my find, I walked around the building and admired the surroundings.  I looked out to see the town which seemed much smaller than when I left it.  The other sign I saw was one that clearly said "No Uncovered Legs or Arms inside the Church.  Since I was wearing shorts and a tank top I wasn't able to see the inside.  At that point, although I was enjoying the beautiful view and the beautiful building I was ready to leave - I was hot and tired.

Getting down was faster and easier than getting up.  I passed the cottages, passed the gardens, passed the small church lower on the hill and walked toward the green gate, which was now closed and locked!  What do I do?  


The stone wall on the inside of the gate was about three feet high and there was shrubbery behind the wall that continued to the other side.  I thought I'd just climb over the wall, work my way to the other side of the gate, then climb back down.  I was confident that I could do that.

I hoisted myself up and over the wall (thank you to Debbie Sanders for helping me have very strong arms) and worked my way through the brush, which included some very sharp thorns.  When I reached the other side of the gate, I realized that the road had descended but the wall had not, leaving about a 6-8 foot drop.  There was no way I could successfully tackle that!   So I returned to my starting place, retracing my steps through the thorny brush.

The outside of the gate - with very high walls

The only remaining option was to walk back and find one of the sisters to let me out.  I knocked on the doors of several of the cottages - no answer.  Continuing my search I heard voices in the basement of one of the larger communal buildings.  There was an open window and seeing several women inside I tried to communicate my situation to them. Whether or not they understood me, I don't know. I do know that I did not understand them.   As it turns out, the residents of this convent only speak Russian - no Hebrew.  And I know less Russian than I do Hebrew. 

One finally came out and escorted me into the building which housed the dining room for the community. There were several very, very long tables with food and drinks, and only a few people in the room eating and drinking.  Of course the people in the room did not understand a thing I was saying. No one offered me food.  I didn't think it was a good idea to take pictures, but I did get up the nerve to ask to fill my water bottle.

Finally using hand motions, I was able to communicate that I was locked inside the grounds. Someone got a key and handed it to a very stern, official looking nun (like the Mother Nun in the Sound of Music), who walked me to the gate and let me out. She never said a word.  

I quickly descended the hill back into town, got a nana lemonade and found the bus to take me back home.   Did I say I was very hot and tired?

The Desert People

This week I spent 24 hours at the home of Amal and Zaid and their four children in the Bedouin village of Tel Sheva.  

This post is intended to be apolitical; my words are not meant to contain any judgment, but to reflect what I heard from Amal and her immediate family, including their children. The older children asked that their pictures not be included in the blog.  

During the  evening I also met Amal’s parents, three of her five sisters, one of her three brothers and many of their children.   We had gathered in Lekia at her parent’s home (the family home) just to visit "for a few minutes" and ended up staying for several hours which included dinner.  In the Bedouin tradition all the gathering is done at the family home. So if one sister wants to visit with another sister one calls the other and they meet at the family home.  Amal's mother is an amazing cook. 

                              

Stuffed peppers

Stuffed zucchini (stuffed end to end)

We were at the family home for several hours; they hardly spoke English, and of course I spoke no Arabic.  We shared a few words in Hebrew but mostly I sat and observed.   During those hours we seemed to be able to communicate and develop some type of relationship. The children were intrigued by my camera and they had fun fooling around so I could take their pictures. 

Two cousins (l) plus Amal and Zaid's youngest - Mayar (r)

Amal is a gynecological emergency room nurse at a large teaching hospital in Be’er Sheva and Zaid is a genetic researcher studying epilepsy at Ben Gurion University.  Amal explained that her marriage to Zaid, a member of the Original Bedouin group, as well as her desire to became a nurse, were not easily accepted by her father.  Zaid described his journey – literally walking from the desert 7 km each day to attend school in one of the villagesl – to becoming a physician.   They both prevailed, very successfully.

Rather going to the local school in Tel Sheva which is considered to be less than optimal, Amal and Zaid have chosen to send their children to a Jewish school, where they are clearly a minority as I saw when we picked the children up at school.  I was impressed with the knowledge that the children have about the culture, the language and the practice of Judaism.

My exposure to the Bedouin culture has been limited to the tents and tiny lean-to type buildings seen as we drive through the desert.  I knew little of their history other than what I’ve read in tour books. 

Amal patiently explained that there are two groups of Bedouins, one large group, known as the “Original” Bedouins, and one small, known as “Falach”.

The Original group, from which Zaid's family comes, historically lived in the desert in tents. Now many of the Original Bedouins live in the recognized villages and many have chosen to stay in the desert in unrecognized areas.  Those who have stayed in the desert still move from place to place every few months so their animals will have grass and other foliage to eat.  Much of the food of the Original Bedouins comes from their animals: cows, sheep, chickens and camels, which are used not only for meat, but for their milk as well.  The livelihood of the residents is also dependent on the animals and animal products such as milk and soap made out of the animal fat. 

The Falachs, a much smaller group who lived in caves and houses, consists of two families.  The Abu Karin, came from Gaza and settled in the village of Lekia. Amal's family is from the Abu Karin family.  The Drujat family came from the West Bank and lives in the village of Drujat.  

Amal’s great, great…grandfather came from Gaza over 200 years ago and brought spices to Lekia. The Bedouins came from all around to buy the spices.  Her grandfather became quite wealthy and built the first constructed house in the Negev which located in Lekia.  The house, known as the “Palace”, has stayed in Amal’s family all these years.  

When Amal brought me to her home I was surprised to see that they live in a large, modern house with everything we would find in our own homes.  I hadn’t known what to expect, and as I mentioned previously, my only knowledge of the Bedouins' housing was in the desert. 

Amal and I spent a long time talking about the range of Bedouin living situations, from tents to apartments and houses.  She explained that the Israeli government created 7 villages in the Negev for the Bedouins.   Many of the Bedouins moved to these villages and many have chosen to stay in the desert in unrecognized locations, and continue to move around as they have for years.  

Amal explained that living in the villages have not been universally or enthusiastically accepted.  Living in the desert provided a regular and substantial income for the Bedouins.  As well, the work of caring for the animals and their products was shared between husbands and wives, both equally important to their success.  For the families that moved to the recognized villages, many of the men go to work, generally in Israeli jobs.   Women's roles lost their significance in the villages, leaving them to stay home raising their children. With the women mostly uneducated, moving into the villages has significantly changed the way they feel about themselves.

Bedouin embroidery

Bedouin made jewelry

Amal has taken it upon herself to improve the quality of life for women in the Bedouin villages.  She has taken over the Palace and is turning it into a museum, displaying what Bedouin living quarters look like, the clothing, jewelry and products that they weave and embroider.  She has recruited the women in the villages to help her with the work it takes to accomplish this.  Amal doesn’t have money to pay them right now, but any profit that is made in the future will go to the women.   This not only provides something for the women to do during the day, but also gives them some training and a purpose.

Amal and I had some very interesting and intense conversations. We both listened respectfully to each others’ perspectives on the land situation. During my visit I learned a great deal about the Bedouin culture, making it both educational and very emotional. It opened my eyes to the impact some decisions of the Israeli government have had on one specific culture, introducing me to information of which I had previously been unaware.

Cooking

Friday morning we made magluba, a delicious combination of vegetables, chicken and rice.   I'm sure there is some way to make this vegetarian, but the flavor of the chicken combined with the spices and the vegetables make this an unforgettable dish.  

Amal's kitchen is modern and was easy to cook in it.   Having two of us to prepare and cook all of the ingredients made it very efficient.  When we finished, the entire family and I sat on the cushions on the floor and devoured it.  

We didn’t have time to do other cooking, but I have been invited back to their home any time.  Amal is as enthusiastic about teaching about the Bedouin culture and cuisine as I am learning about it.  

Sliced potatoes being fried in oil

Frying cauliflower and layering the vegetables

Preparing to unveil the magluba

Getting ready to eat

Magluba

1 whole chicken, in pieces
4-5 med potatoes sliced into ½” pieces and salted

1 med eggplant sliced into  ½” pieces

1 whole cauliflower, cut into large florets

2 onions thickly sliced;

4 whole garlic cloves

vegetable oil (or other non-olive oil)

salt

ground black pepper

1 pound basmati rice (approx 2.5 C)
2 tsp turmeric

3 tomatoes, sliced

Put chicken in large pot and cover with water.  Bring to boil, then cover and simmer until chicken is fully cooked.

Heat ½” oil over med-hi.  Add potato slices in single layer and cook until brown. Repeat with remaining slices.   Repeat the process with the cauliflower, then eggplant.  Repeat with onion and garlic together, and generously add salt and pepper.  Cook until onions are soft.

While vegetables are cooking soak the rice for about 2-3 minutes then drain well.  Add to the rice about 1 tsp salt, 2 tsp turmeric, 1 tsp pepper.

Drain chicken keeping the broth. Place the chicken on a separate plate.

In the same pot that the chicken was cooked in, layer in the following order, trying not to waste space in the pot.

-       sliced tomatoes

-       chicken pieces

-       onions

-       cauliflower

-       eggplant

-       potatoes

Add rice mixture to pot, spreading around to cover.  Add the broth in correct proportion to rice, 1 C rice: 1¾ C broth.  (2.5 C rice: 4 ⅓ C broth)

Place pot on stove, bring to boil then turn down to simmer.  Cook until rice is done.  Add more broth if necessary.

Let cool for 30 minutes.  Remove the lid of the pot. Place a large round platter upside down on top of the pot and flip the pot and the platter so the pot is upside down on the platter.  Carefully lift the pot off the platter and the magluba will fall out of the pot.

Serve with varieties of Middle Eastern salads and pita.

Magluba

Giving Back

Coming to Israel for an extended time is like living here. Unfortunately, you're not entitled to that special bus pass or senior discounts unless you make aliyah.  Really though, being in Israel does feel like home, even if I can’t understand most of what people are saying.  So when we live somewhere and benefit from resources in the community, whether public or private, we have a responsibility to give something back.

Some of us also connect with Hashem (G-d) by serving others – this is what is expected of us. For me, it helps me understand my own relationship with Hashem. I recently read an article, The Jewish Response to Hunger, which gives traditional, compassionate and textual references to why we, as Jews, need to respond - as if we needed to justify it.

Someone recently asked me why I am spending my precious time in Israel volunteering when I’m here for such a short time. I explained my belief and values, and she replied “just by being here you’re giving back - to the economy - and we’re so appreciative of that”.  For me that’s not enough.

Yesterday I started helping at an organization called Meir Panim – the “Jewish Charity for the Hungry and Poor”, as it calls itself.   Here is it’s mission.

… to alleviate and diminish the harmful effects of poverty on thousands of families across Israel by supporting a range of food and social service programs aimed at helping the needy with dignity and respect, including free restaurants, meals-on-wheels, school lunch programs, prepaid food card distribution, vocational training and after-school youth clubs.

Meir Panim has a lot of similarities to Seattle’s Jewish Family Service, where I’m on the board of directors, in that it helps people that are challenged in providing for themselves. So it was natural for me to select an organization such as this.   

Lining up the trays and
keeping the food warm

I volunteered at the Jerusalem's Free Restaurant which is designed to look and feel like a restaurant.  There are currently six Free Restaurants in distressed cities throughout Israel.  There had previously been more but the economic downturn in 2008 forced closure of some. The hope is to begin increasing the numbers of restaurants again soon.

The Jerusalem free restaurant is open Sundays – Thursdays from 11:30 am to 1:00 pm.  Anyone who is hungry can come and eat, any age, religion, culture... no questions asked.  Many of them come every day, and many bring containers to fill and take home. Still – no questions asked.

 

A well filled plate

The food is mostly donated, generally from restaurants where the quality standards are high.  When I was there yesterday the menu consisted of couscous, rice, an eggplant and vegetable stew, green beans, lamb shanks and chicken.  When the lamb and chicken were gone, out came Hungarian Goulash, and when that was gone out came more chicken.

The clients that came yesterday were fewer than usual – the weather was very warm and it was explained to me that when

there is extreme weather fewer people leave their homes and come out, even for food.  But even with fewer clients there was still an atmosphere of respect and appreciation.

There are only a few paid employees, most are either volunteers or people from the community that are doing this work to avoid judicial penalties - otherwise known as "community service".  Yesterday there was a father and son from Alaska that come to Israel every year to volunteer with disabled adults and also help out at Meir Panim.  Another volunteer, Jeff, has been volunteering here for five years.  Everyone, without exception, was warm and friendly to the diners.  

Scraping and stacking

The volunteers set up the room, bring food to the diners on trays with well filled plates, a roll and a cup for water. We also cleaned off and stacked dishes and trays when diners were finished.  

We provide a bit of social interaction with the diners as well, which is equally important. They don't feel like strangers, they feel welcomed and well fed in more ways than one.

My Hebrew got me through the day.  I could say Shalom, Mashlomech or Mashlimcha ("How are you" to a woman or to a man) and “At/ata rotzeh/rotzah lechem o mayim” (do you want bread or water)?  They often responded or asked for something I couldn’t understand but we worked it out.

Making sure I saw him

One man in particular let me go on and on trying to speak Hebrew and trying to make him understand, finally said clearly “I speak very good English”.  We both laughed.  See him below.   When he left he made sure that I saw him and waved goodbye.

Another woman who had asked me for some more rice (orez) and some extra rolls, was so appreciative that when she was leaving she came over and said “todah, todah, todah” (thank you…) and gave me a kiss on my hand.  I gave her a kiss on the cheek and she was thrilled.

There were several interactions like that, and it just warmed my heart to know that I gave something, whether it was rice, bread, words or just a smile, and made their day a little better.

I plan on continuing to volunteer at the free restaurant of Meir Panim every week that I’m in Jerusalem.