Living in a scrapbook

For the few days I've been staying here, my mind has unconsciously been trying to figure out the "style" of the Abraham hostel. Well, today, while doing my business in the main restroom downstairs, it came upon me (I was gazing absently at the wallpaper).  The place gives you the feel of a scrapbook. Small, colorful and busy patterns that follow a color scheme decorate a few doors, walls, etc.; the font is a sort of bubble-type seriffed look; quotes are stenciled on the wall in bright colors that follow the theme of Abraham as the first solo travler. The whole of it together has the essence of living in a scrapbook all about backpacking and traveling, living the scrapbooked memory. It makes the memory for you. Tours offered are part of that experience. Hip music, meeting place for all kinds of people, making connections, on a journey meeting people from all over the world. This would be such a great addition to my BYU pop culture class! Hyper-realism if ever I saw it. I've never been really fond of scrapbooking - but living in it is something else entirely!

As it turns out, the bulk of the Abraham Hostel family descends on the kitchen around 5:30 or 6. I was one of them. Excited to eat another of my delicious avocados, I walked into a dining area bursting with energy and smells. The first thing I noticed was that something was burning - and in a major way. It was clearly coming from the kitchen area, and when I walked over to get a plate and some utensils, I saw what it was: eggplant. Yep, about 8 eggplants placed directly on hot burners, cooking, I could only surmise.  The large island in the center of the kitchen was surrounded like a surgery patient in Grey's Anatomy, with people busily chopping and juicing and otherwise preparing some kind of food. Apparently there is some kind of communal meal going on that I wasn't aware of. I probably wouldn't have gone anyway - too much talking expectation. But I don't know, I might have worked up the people-energy and confident smile enough to pull it off.

Speaking of juicing, I have to confess that I've fallen in love. I have seen the object of my affection a few other places around Jerusalem, but when I spotted it tonight, a rekindling of the fire fanned in my heart - or rather, on my tastebuds. They have these juicers here - I don't know why they don't seem to exist in the States. It's a contraption that allows you to put a sliced orange/lemon/grapefruit (or other citrus fruit, I suppose) in between a press that then, when pressed together through a lever that pulls the top part down squeezes the juice down through a funnel into your choice of container below. Fresh juice, hello! Tonight they were squeezing lemons. In a matter of maybe 5 minutes, they had a half gallon or so of lemon juice - for the meal, I assumed.

Then my next heart-flutter appeared. Wandering around the scene, I couldn't help but notice, was a tall well-built guy with long brown hair (have I ever mentioned that, although I try to talk myself out of it, I have a thing for guys with long hair?) and a camera. He seemed to be the designated photographer for the culinary event. At some point he procured a shot glass, dipped it into the lemon juice, and drank it straight down, without a single wince of the eyes. Astounding!

But this meal wasn't the only one in the makes. On a table kitty-corner from me was an Asian lady busily chopping onions, then slicing an enormous roast into thin slices. I have no idea what she was preparing. To the right of me on the table was a group, perhaps a family, drinking beers together and playing some sort of game that looked like Scattergories, and to the left of me, on the other side of the long table, was a lonely soul like myself, eating something and drinking herbal tea contentedly. I considered going to talk with her, but if she were indeed like me, our conversation might be forced and awkward.

Am I lame because I would rather sit and watch people than actually go up and talk to them?

But my roommate David never lacks for something to say! I have deduced through my amazing sleuthing skills (which amount to just half-listening to his jabber) that he is an internet Christian minister, an anti-government activist, and whole foods health nut. In all of these, he is a constant preacher, which preaching he breaks up with random riddles and "quizzes" that no one can figure out, but that appear (consciously or not) to be power plays intended to keep me (or whoever is the lucky recipient) off balance and at his mercy, waiting for the answer, and feeling less than intelligent.

I find myself struggling with this situation a little. I moved from one chattering know-it-all, older man, to another - both of whom are quite friendly, but in a way that lets you know quite clearly that they are, of course, right. I feel dominated, which I'm sure is the, perhaps unintended, intent, which causes me to just pull in and shut up, when I really want to question some of this self-proclaimed truth he is spouting, but don't want to engage in a debate, because I inevitably fail at those - I don't think fast enough, nor are we coming at it with equal advantage. He preaches this stuff for a living, and my role is as the listener, grateful receiver of truth.

I also struggle because I want to share back, and I feel like what I 'm really doing is giving off some weak image of Mormons - that I don't have enough confidence in my faith to openly talk about it. This, of course, isn't true, and I have shared my faith with various individuals on this trip; but feeling dominated as I do, I don't wish to engage in a power play.

But I'll be gone most of tomorrow (today I was stuck here finishing up a paper - but it's finished and turned in! Hurray!), as well as Thursday, so perhaps things are looking up. And despite the awkwardness of the fact that we are sharing this living space together (a 65-year-old or so man and me), he doesn't snore, and he does go to bed early and sleep in later than myself. In that regard, I'm grateful.

As I sit here (it's just after 7) an eerie alarm is sounding outside, all over the city. You can hear the various alarms in different places - some going up in their wail as other go down. It is a drill - a paper posted at the front desk warned us of it some days in advance. But the experience is quite unnerving. Even when it happened earlier today as well (so this is the second drill today). I guess that's part of the Israel experience.