Festival Finale

And for the fourth Monday in a row (which, in Hebrew, is called 'Yom Shaynee' (Day Two) and can be confusing since I had always reserved that position for Tuesday) I ventured to Jerusalem's esteemed open air market, Machaneh Yehuda for the cultural festivities. Similar to each of my previous experiences, I saw and partook in new and unique activities for this adventure as well. Though I was pretty exhausted from walking around during the day, I did end up having another pretty cool experience there. Two very different food artists crafted some work. One provided free samples of sliced watermelon to onlookers, taking the rinds of the fruit and nailing them to a board; needless to say I did not end up staying to find out the end to that show. The second craftsman might be considered a food sculptor and had numerous examples of fruits and vegetables that were his equivalent of a meticulously manicured bonzai tree. It was at this latter booth that I stopped to take pictures and in doing so became estranged from the tour of the market that I had previously joined. This tour was a pretty cool thing: the guide-ess informed us of the history of the neighborhood, the market itself and changes that had taken place over the years. For example, a bit about the transformation from a solely food-based exchange to the establishment of cafes and chic designer clothing stores. It was also fulfilling that my Hebrew has already progressed to a point where I can join such activities and not wander about aimlessly.

In fulfilling my desire to commission my very own poem, I paid the hefty sum of 1₪ (that's one shekel) and kindly requested a song about my new aliya experience, pictured here (with a translation beneath...that somewhat rhymes/jives better in Hebrew).

I was pretty happy to have received the esteemed composer's words. Despite (or perhaps because of) the cynical manner in which he characterized Israel, it gave me both inspiration and something physical to hold on to to remember the experience of my beginning here (another collectible, I guess).

Aliya
Zionism is not a thing that comes easy
With enemies surrounding
a crazy, furious state
hungry for success
Living in an island of poverty, craziness and confusion
And I live with her

Walking through the main thoroughfare of the market, past the Moroccan man playing old religious tunes on the electric guitar, around the leather-skinned gentleman who brandished both an impressively bushy, curly mustache to go with his sombrero, there was a watermelon eating contest. It was a pretty funny spectacle to view, adding to the eclectic atmosphere of the market. Even across the seas the same theme still resonates: it ain't over 'till the fat lady eats (and she did win by a long shot).

The final festivals I attended were Festival b'Shekel, a neighborhood music event featuring top artists for the cost of a shekel (just so everyone could be able to attend) and a Friday concert series in Sacher Park, replete with extreme sports and a skateboard park filled with kids - religious and secular, guys and girls, Ashkenazi and Sephardi. With the end of the season of the shuk activities and with the closing days of August, festival season came to a climactic close. Balabasta Shuk Tuesdays, atop the other civic additions to the atmosphere of the days and evenings, filled an old cornerstone of Jerusalem with an electricity I hadn't seen here for years.