I was being picked up by the woman who runs the hostel, the Safed Inn. I thought this was a great touch - and I was very glad of it, not only because of my numerous bags and feeling of real dislocation after four cities in two days, but also because it gave me a chance to appreciate the drive there and ask questions about the city. The manager herself (I don't think she ever told me her name) is Israeli, but speaks perfect English with a strongly drawling American accent. I had to withold a laugh everytime she ended a sentence with 'Mmkaaay?', as she often did, in the manner of South Park's school teacher.
For some reason I didn't photo the hostel, but I had a twin room to myself - the dorm was full, and she had agreed to rent me one bed for NIS150 (roughly twiced the price of a normal dorm bed, but halfway between Safed's dorm and private prices). So, I had a bedroom, lounge, coffee and tea with kettle, private bathroom and cable TV. Stunned doesn't describe my state, I was quite sad that I was only in Safed for 2 nights and would be spending most of that in the city (3km away, at the bottom of a very steep hill). But her advice that buses stop at 9 meant that I would have to return before then, so at least my confined evenings would be very comfortable.
I unpacked and caught the bus.
I don't think I've ever seen a real ostrich before. They're huge. I suspect that this ostrich has seen humans before, but still took a keen interest in me as I approached its fence.
I ate some lunch at a vegetarian diner called (ha) Tree of Life. This is run by a woman from Dorset - funnily enough. She was very nice, though she made a rather stupid comment about "Arabs" regarding their bulldozing of ancient archeological matter from around the Temple Mount - 'but they don't like it when you mess with their stuff'. I was too busy eating the quinoa stuffed pepper to get into an argument about it.
The service was very good, though quite short. He sidled up to me and smiled nervously: "Synagogue charity - fifty shekhels". Oh. Wait - he was expecting to be paid for a five minute tour conducted mostly in a language I don't understand? I could tell what most things were (including the toilets) without it being told to me in a language I don't understand. The things I still didn't know I could have happily not known in my own language. Was it naive of me to think he was simply enthusiastic about his religion and wanted to share it with outsiders? OK yes, it was. Idiot. But I still wasn't going to pay him. As I walked away he ran around the courtyard trying to find someone who spoke English so they could explain to me that I had to pay for the tour. The only person who answered yes to the first question just laughed as he explained, which made me feel a bit less bad - I was feeling quite awful now, but not awful enough to part with £10. I asked this second gentleman to pass on my thanks and explain that he needs to arrange - or mention - a fee before providing Sde Bokerhis, uh, service in future.
I didn't feel like to going to any more of the synagogues that evening so I ambled and photographed random things.
I bought some junk from a shop: pot noodle, mushrooms, some wholemeal pittas, chocolate spread (this is very popular here...have my instincts just stopped me noticing such things in the UK?) and something I presumed was Hummus. I made this presumption because the hebrew said hummus something. I couldn't tell what the second word was, but left hoping it didn't have some dairy constituent. At the hostel it taste very creamy, so I took the precaution of googling my rough transliteration of the second word, which I made to be msabbha. To my surprise, this is an arabic variation on hummus, made from overboiled chickpeas (see here). It was nice, but I think I prefer standard hummus, which has slightly more of an edge.
The next day I went straight into the city.
Here are some more of the city streets and views.
I went to the Ashkenazi Ari Synagogue. This is reputed to be the location that Isaac Luria prayed, although the previous synagogue was destroyed in a huge earthquake about 150 years ago.
I went to a store promoting a particular brand of Kabbalah - one that I'm not in favour of, all new agey pseudo-science bullshit about the effect of wearing tefillin on ones' aura, and the physiological differences in blood flow between kosher and unclean animals. I did like this diagram on tefillin use though.
I went for an amble, vaguely looking for the shouq (market) and the old cemetery. I'm aware that my sense of direction is worse than terrible, but still I persist in attempting to find things by ambling in the direction I think they should be. Needless to say I found neither, but I walked for a few miles in a twisting path downhill, and saw some things that were still very interesting.
A few days ago in Haifa I had an impulsive desire to get a new piercing. I haven't had or wanted a piercing for more than ten years, so this surprised me but the desire was very strong. I failed to find an open in Haifa, but discovered a small studio on Jerusalem St in Tzfat. Highly incongruous, that a city without a record shop or even a single bar should have a piercing studio. Still, just before leaving the centre I went in and got a scaffold piercing. This (known internationally as an industrial) is a bar between two points on the rim of the ear. I've had it a week now and it's healed nicely - I'm very pleased, and it was at a price favourable to UK rates. It made me think about childbirth though (in my typical, condescending male way) because it hurt so much during the process (especially the second hole at the top) I couldn't imagine ever wanting to go through it again. But now I'm so happy with it I'd gladly have another one, if I had the overriding urge again.
So that's Tzfat. The next day I left for Tiberias.
save
No comments:
Post a Comment