First Impressions

What is it like here? (Ha! In journalism school, they taught me never to open with a question, but now that I'm a blogger, I can break whatever rules I want.) So anyway, what is it like here? Both remarkably the same, and surreally different. My neighbor owns all the latest Mac products, and yet yesterday, two men led an entire herd of sheep down the street past my suburban house. I don't know where they came from or where they were going.

I live in a sprawling house that's divided into three apartments, and a creepy laundry room in the third floor tower. Our own apartment seems decadently large with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and three spacious balconies to divide between two people.


Despite the beautiful houses, the neighborhood has an old feel to it. It may be the polished sunlight that is unique to Jerusalem, making everything seem as if you've wandered into the distant past. My street perches on the edge of a hill overlooking many more hills in the distance. There are masses of children screaming and laughing and making toys out of whatever they find--rocks, fences, a truck parked at the side of the road.

Some things are simpler here. Almost everyone dries their clothes on a line instead of a drier. It's easy to find freshly picked vegetables, some with dirt still clinging to them. This was my lunch, pita bread still hot from the oven, and the hummus was some of the best I've ever had. Although, it came in a big tub from the corner store, and would probably be an embarrassment to a local.


Other things are more complex. Today was the first day it's been too hot to wear my long trench coat, and so it took me four outfit changes to get out of the house feeling reasonably modest. I am still a spectacle and draw stares wherever I go, although I see other Westerners all the time. People are kind to me, but suspicious. They usually warm up quickly when I make bumbling attempts at Arabic. Still, I'm not sure I will ever feel I fit here.