Woah, I remember this thing. It's been months, since July I think...I have lots to say, but I'm not going to say it. Instead, watch this:
Manhatta
What do you have to say about it?
11.16.2006
7.26.2006
Back in Action
It’s been five months, but I’ve returned. That means I’ve been away for longer than the blog has been active…which means I’m probably just writing to myself, as the few people who knew about YU Blog?! have likely stopped checking for updates by now. I can’t even validate the claim of “A Yeshiva University Student Blog-Bringing Wisdom to the Web”, as I’ve graduated, and I’m thus no longer a Yeshiva University student.
Then again, half of this blog’s active life took place after I stopped taking classes at YU. And I still work at YU, which gives me some claim to write the YU Blog?! Maybe now the question mark and exclamation mark make more sense. When people hear I write a YU blog, they’ll respond with, “You write the YU Blog?!”
Most of those who read this will know why I’ve been gone for so long. For those of you who don’t, check back after a few posts. A lot’s happened in since March and I’m still getting my feet under me. Once YU Blog?! is up and fully running, I’ll tell you all the harrowing tale.
For now I’ll say I’ve moved to the other side of the Heights, where I’ve found a piece of real New York City living. I’ve enjoyed the city ever since I moved here, but never as much as I have for the past few months. Across the street from the A train, respectable bars with live music on the weekends, organic grocery stores and gourmet wine shops all within walking distance. I never minded living on the YU side, until I moved out and realized what I was missing.
I’ve also made another great discovery-my bike. I lived with that thing under my dorm room bed for the first two years of college. I would make it out a few times a year, but I never utilized it as a valid means of transportation. Now it takes me 20 minutes to get to Central Park. It takes less than an hour to get to Battery Park. The island has shrunk significantly.
I’ll write more about my bike some other time, there’s just too much to say to fit in this post. For now, I just wanted everybody (nobody?) to know I’m still here.
Let me know if any of you are still out there.
2.28.2006
The Noble Coffee that Was
I’ve been debating whether or not to tell this story, but I’ve decided its something I must share.
After a struggle trying to decide what to have for dinner the other night, I settled on frozen steak from the kosher store on Amsterdam. As I ate this perfect meal of beef and potatoes, I got a call from the team. They wanted to go to the Village.
As it neared time for the shuttle, I stopped by the library for warmth. I noticed the random café there was open, so I went to buy a coffee. The lady told me regular coffee cost a dollar, whereas flavored cost $1.10. From behind the cashier, she could not see the two urns, so I asked her how she knew what people were buying. She said she only knew what they told her…
After pouring myself a regular cup and filing it with two packs of sugar and some whole milk (instead of the skim, which was also available), I moved the perilously full cup to the register. My phone rang at the same time I reached for my wallet, so I used each hand to remove them both from my pockets. Somehow, in the chaos, the coffee cup exploded.
Light brown coffee spilled over the counter, into the napkin dispenser, under the register. A small coffee lake formed at my feet. All in a matter of seconds.
As I rushed to help the lady clean up the mess, I worried about missing the shuttle. Subways alone are boring. We worked together to contain the flood and I sheepishly asked her for a free refill, to which she agreed.
My new cup in hand, I boarded the shuttle and sat down to enjoy my hard earned drink. As I took my first sip, I smelled the milk and realized I had eaten meat not 45 minutes before. I suddenly knew why the first cup committed suicide. It was to save me from eating milk after meat.
I didn’t want to sit with a full cup of coffee the whole way down to Stern, so I stood up and asked the full shuttle if anyone wanted some coffee. A girl in the back asked if it was caffeinated, which I thought was kind of a dumb question. “Very,” I said, and turned around to offer the drink to the driver. He looked at me as if I was offering him a bribe or something, so I changed my offer to, “Would you at least throw it out.”
He did, and my ride down was uneventful. The events to follow have their own tale to tell. But when I think back on that night, I can’t help but to reflect on that poor cup that gave its life to better my own.
After a struggle trying to decide what to have for dinner the other night, I settled on frozen steak from the kosher store on Amsterdam. As I ate this perfect meal of beef and potatoes, I got a call from the team. They wanted to go to the Village.
As it neared time for the shuttle, I stopped by the library for warmth. I noticed the random café there was open, so I went to buy a coffee. The lady told me regular coffee cost a dollar, whereas flavored cost $1.10. From behind the cashier, she could not see the two urns, so I asked her how she knew what people were buying. She said she only knew what they told her…
After pouring myself a regular cup and filing it with two packs of sugar and some whole milk (instead of the skim, which was also available), I moved the perilously full cup to the register. My phone rang at the same time I reached for my wallet, so I used each hand to remove them both from my pockets. Somehow, in the chaos, the coffee cup exploded.
Light brown coffee spilled over the counter, into the napkin dispenser, under the register. A small coffee lake formed at my feet. All in a matter of seconds.
As I rushed to help the lady clean up the mess, I worried about missing the shuttle. Subways alone are boring. We worked together to contain the flood and I sheepishly asked her for a free refill, to which she agreed.
My new cup in hand, I boarded the shuttle and sat down to enjoy my hard earned drink. As I took my first sip, I smelled the milk and realized I had eaten meat not 45 minutes before. I suddenly knew why the first cup committed suicide. It was to save me from eating milk after meat.
I didn’t want to sit with a full cup of coffee the whole way down to Stern, so I stood up and asked the full shuttle if anyone wanted some coffee. A girl in the back asked if it was caffeinated, which I thought was kind of a dumb question. “Very,” I said, and turned around to offer the drink to the driver. He looked at me as if I was offering him a bribe or something, so I changed my offer to, “Would you at least throw it out.”
He did, and my ride down was uneventful. The events to follow have their own tale to tell. But when I think back on that night, I can’t help but to reflect on that poor cup that gave its life to better my own.
2.20.2006
An End and a Beginning
I’d like to take a step aside (maybe forever) from my German recollections and tell everyone about two things that have come to my attention. The first is the end of an era –Dougie’s on 72 street has closed. I would have thought YU orders alone could have kept the place open, but it seems hungry YUers were not enough.
Not to worry though, the chain still has a presence in Manhattan. There is a Dougie’s Express at 74 W. 47th Street. I never went there often, but every once in a while I crave their pastrami burger. It’s good to know I can still get one in the city.
I would also like to share with everyone a book my friend Elan Mosbacher just published. Here is the official blurb:
Sticking to Israel: Israeli Society Through Bumper Stickers is a coffee table book with photographs of hundreds of political bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters, complemented by translations and related pictures. The book shares many opinions that the media rarely addresses including conflicting, politically incorrect, and humorous political and religious assertions. The book portrays Zionistic, anti-Zionistic, right wing, left wing, political party, politician specific, army, religious, Nachman, Chabad, and miscellaneous themes of bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters from around the country. Arabic and Chinese bumper stickers from Israel are also included in the book.
And here are some rave reviews:
"Sticking to Israel presents to an English-speaking audience a unique look at Israeli political culture on the ground. The book is an invaluable source of material for understanding the quotidian experience of Israelis -- how politics comes to them on the street, and how they go about expressing their views in the visual marketplace of everyday life. And besides, the images collected here are a fun reminder of the vibrancy -- and outspokenness -- of Israeli democracy."
Dr. Eric Zakim,
Asst. Professor
of Hebrew Language and Culture
At the University of Maryland.
"Sticking to Israel is an unvarnished look at life on the ground in Israel today and, while its wisdom may derive only from bumper stickers, it's helpful especially to Americans who have a hard time taking the pulse of Israel."
-Stephen J. Dubner,
New York Times Journalist and
Co-Author of Freakonomics
Finally, here is an article about the book. I’m sure Elan would be interested to hear what everyone thinks about his project. Feel free to comment about it.
Not to worry though, the chain still has a presence in Manhattan. There is a Dougie’s Express at 74 W. 47th Street. I never went there often, but every once in a while I crave their pastrami burger. It’s good to know I can still get one in the city.
I would also like to share with everyone a book my friend Elan Mosbacher just published. Here is the official blurb:
Sticking to Israel: Israeli Society Through Bumper Stickers is a coffee table book with photographs of hundreds of political bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters, complemented by translations and related pictures. The book shares many opinions that the media rarely addresses including conflicting, politically incorrect, and humorous political and religious assertions. The book portrays Zionistic, anti-Zionistic, right wing, left wing, political party, politician specific, army, religious, Nachman, Chabad, and miscellaneous themes of bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters from around the country. Arabic and Chinese bumper stickers from Israel are also included in the book.
And here are some rave reviews:
"Sticking to Israel presents to an English-speaking audience a unique look at Israeli political culture on the ground. The book is an invaluable source of material for understanding the quotidian experience of Israelis -- how politics comes to them on the street, and how they go about expressing their views in the visual marketplace of everyday life. And besides, the images collected here are a fun reminder of the vibrancy -- and outspokenness -- of Israeli democracy."
Dr. Eric Zakim,
Asst. Professor
of Hebrew Language and Culture
At the University of Maryland.
"Sticking to Israel is an unvarnished look at life on the ground in Israel today and, while its wisdom may derive only from bumper stickers, it's helpful especially to Americans who have a hard time taking the pulse of Israel."
-Stephen J. Dubner,
New York Times Journalist and
Co-Author of Freakonomics
Finally, here is an article about the book. I’m sure Elan would be interested to hear what everyone thinks about his project. Feel free to comment about it.
2.06.2006
Germany III: Sachsenhousen
Since Blogger only seems to like one photo per post, I've decided to sum up my German recollections in one photo or less (per recollection).
This shot sums up our trip to the Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp more than any other photograph. Noah, whom I called Noaher, took a longer path than the rest of the group as we walked through this part of the camp. He appears isolated between two white voids, the first is the snow and above him is the sky.
The setting and his contemplative posture reflects how I felt that day. The terror that occurred at Sachsenhousen made me feel isolated. At the same time, I felt compelled to think hard about what it meant to be there.
I thought about how many people did not approve of a YU trip to Germany. Many people wouldn't even buy a German car…As I walked through the camp, I came to the realization that the best way to stick it to the Nazi's is to go to Germany and live as a Jew.
At first, I thought it would be hard to travel by train on German soil because of what our ancestors had to endure on German trains. But when the group davened on the train, out loud and in the open, I felt a kind of awe. Here was a group of young, Jewish students, praying out in the open in Germany. What would a Holocaust victim have said?
These thoughts reached a crescendo the day after our visit to the concentration camp. We went on a Thursday, so the next night was Shabbat. We went from the depths of tragedy to the joy of all that it means to be a Jew in just a few short hours. We openly prayed, sang and danced on the same ground where our grand and great grandparents feared for their lives.
This juxtaposition, of tragic history and hopeful present (of snowshoeing and remembering) epitomized my experience in Germany. We traveled to learn about the country's terrible past, but with an eye to its future. This made the moment in between, the present, all the more meaningful.
1.26.2006
Alps VI
The shot of the day (one of many). Just to clarify, this photo and those below were meant for the post "Germany?! II: The Alps. For some reason, they wouldn't show up. Blogger must only like one photo per post. Sorry for the confusion, enjoy!
Alps II
"
Here is the second picture. It was meant to go before the caption, "Dahlia putting on her snowshoe, but is it necessary?".
Here is the second picture. It was meant to go before the caption, "Dahlia putting on her snowshoe, but is it necessary?".
Let's Try This Again
I'm not sure why this didn't work, but here is the first picture I wanted to include in the last post. It was meant to go at the beginning.
Germany?! II: The Alps
The trip started light. After a 7 hour plane ride and an interesting Shabbat with the Munich Jewish community, they took us snow-shoeing in the Alps. This is a shot of the team trekking up a smaller Alp.
At first I didn’t understand the concept of a snowshoe. At the base of the mountain, where we put on the shoes, I walked around in only my regular boots and found no difficulty. I didn’t sink into a snow cave. We’ve all walked on snow before, and without the help of a crazy plastic shoe.
Dahlia putting on her snowshoe, but is it necessary?
I was going to forget the whole snowshoe business and just walk along without the cumbersome things, but I thought I’d go along for the sake of the group. Everyone was doing it, I didn’t want to be a party pooper. If you know me, you know this kind of thinking is contrary to my personality. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen way up in the Alps, or maybe it was the effect of the group starting to cohere…
Whatever the reason, by the time we started up the mountain I was happy to have the crazy plastic things around my feet. As we climbed, the snow got fluffier and deeper. Without the annoying shoes, I would have been struggling to keep up with everyone.
The snow itself was like no other snow I’ve seen before. There were two-inch chips, or crystals of snow/ice sticking out everywhere. Here’s a picture:
I asked our mountain guy:
what had caused this phenomena and he went on for five minutes in German. I then asked our German guide what he said, and she told us that the snow would evaporate at dusk when the temperature would drop suddenly. This vapor would freeze and evaporate repeatedly. The crystals of snow/ice are the result.
The high mountain air, fantastic vistas and crisp temperature shocked us out of any remaining jetlag. I felt energized. This feeling propelled me through the rigorous schedule of the rest of the trip.
One incident on the mountain removed any doubts I may have had about the shoes. Elana Stein, our second in command, fell waist deep into a snow hole:
After I went around to take this photograph, I said to the team, “I don’t understand how that happened-” whereupon I fell into the same trench. I expected the same rush of help that Elana received, but I heard only laughter.
I eventually made it out of the hole and back down the mountain. On the train ride back to Munich I felt groggy from all the clean air and exercise. The shot of the day remained clear in my mind as I dozed off to the quiet, guttural German conversations on the train:
1.25.2006
Germany?!
Well I’m back. Most of you didn’t know I was leaving, and for that I apologize. The rest of you know that I’ve been in Germany for the past couple of weeks. I mooched another trip out of YU.
This makes three.
People ask, “Why Germany?” And I agree, it wouldn’t be my first choice for a vacation. Especially this time of year, it was so cold. I first applied for the trip because it was free. They could have sent me to the Czech Republic; I didn’t care.
I’m not choosy when someone offers me a free trip.
In retrospect, though, anywhere else would have provided only a mediocre experience. We had an amazing time, and I think it’s because Germany provided such an intense experience. Our group went to a concentration camp on Thursday, and then sang and danced in a shuel on Friday.
We snow shoed in the Alps, spoke with German Jewish college students, met with the education ministers about holocaust education, and toured Munich and Berlin. But more enjoyable than any of these activities was getting to know the group of YU and Stern students who came along for the ride.
They made the trip the incredible experience I’ll remember.
We had as much fun on a seven-hour train ride as when we did any of the other activities. At first, I thought we could have been anywhere and cohered as well. In thinking back, though, only in Germany could we have become “The A Team” and eventually, “The Gemeinda”. The intense experiences we shared were bonding.
I’m curious to know how the Honduras group fared.
Stay tuned for photos and stories. And good luck with the first days of class.
This makes three.
People ask, “Why Germany?” And I agree, it wouldn’t be my first choice for a vacation. Especially this time of year, it was so cold. I first applied for the trip because it was free. They could have sent me to the Czech Republic; I didn’t care.
I’m not choosy when someone offers me a free trip.
In retrospect, though, anywhere else would have provided only a mediocre experience. We had an amazing time, and I think it’s because Germany provided such an intense experience. Our group went to a concentration camp on Thursday, and then sang and danced in a shuel on Friday.
We snow shoed in the Alps, spoke with German Jewish college students, met with the education ministers about holocaust education, and toured Munich and Berlin. But more enjoyable than any of these activities was getting to know the group of YU and Stern students who came along for the ride.
They made the trip the incredible experience I’ll remember.
We had as much fun on a seven-hour train ride as when we did any of the other activities. At first, I thought we could have been anywhere and cohered as well. In thinking back, though, only in Germany could we have become “The A Team” and eventually, “The Gemeinda”. The intense experiences we shared were bonding.
I’m curious to know how the Honduras group fared.
Stay tuned for photos and stories. And good luck with the first days of class.
1.04.2006
The Space Inside Our Heads
We start the day in our room, generally behind closed doors. As we become more animate, we expand into other rooms of the house.
When we start out for class, the world we occupy balloons into the outdoors. Space inflates and contracts as we move throughout the day.
At the end of the day, this all happens in reverse. The expansive outdoors, the smaller world of the home, the bedroom.
We crawl into bed and eventually close our eyes. We now enter the smallest and the most expansive space of the day, the space inside our heads
We take the space of our heads with us everywhere, of course. Yet the spaces of the outside world often distract us from the tiny expanse behind our eyelids.
I once got claustrophobic from the thought that I was stuck in my own head. I think I was daydreaming during a MBP shiur at the time.
Try exploring the world behind your eyelids during the day. Sit for 20 minutes without opening your eyes (don’t fall asleep). I don’t mean “discover yourself” or anything metaphoric. Literally check out the places inside your head. I’m not sure how else to explain it.
It’s the smallest and the most expansive space of the day.
When we start out for class, the world we occupy balloons into the outdoors. Space inflates and contracts as we move throughout the day.
At the end of the day, this all happens in reverse. The expansive outdoors, the smaller world of the home, the bedroom.
We crawl into bed and eventually close our eyes. We now enter the smallest and the most expansive space of the day, the space inside our heads
We take the space of our heads with us everywhere, of course. Yet the spaces of the outside world often distract us from the tiny expanse behind our eyelids.
I once got claustrophobic from the thought that I was stuck in my own head. I think I was daydreaming during a MBP shiur at the time.
Try exploring the world behind your eyelids during the day. Sit for 20 minutes without opening your eyes (don’t fall asleep). I don’t mean “discover yourself” or anything metaphoric. Literally check out the places inside your head. I’m not sure how else to explain it.
It’s the smallest and the most expansive space of the day.
1.03.2006
Another Article
CNN.com - Gaza spirals into lawlessness - Jan 2, 2006: "It appears as if Gaza has degenerated into anarchy."
Here's another article for controversy. I look forward to hearing what everyone has to say.
Here's another article for controversy. I look forward to hearing what everyone has to say.
1.02.2006
Still Here
Just so no one forgets about YU Blog?!, here is a photo to ponder. I expect to be posting regularly again, now that I have emerged from my self-imposed, work related hibernation.
I'd like to thank the posters who took part in the previous controversy about the NY times article. I'd also like to add that my mother phoned in to comment. It is her opinion that "Cultural Judaism" has no future, because it provides no continuity for future generations. One person's definition of Judaism may work for that individual, but without the tradition of Moses to carry the religion, it will fail.
Thanks again to everyone that commented. I look forward to hering more from you in the future.
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