• Chill Baby and Drink Hot Chai

     

    We in America drink iced chai tea as a great pick me up and refreshment. It doesn’t seem that long ago when this mysterious beverage showed up in our local haunts. I  first experienced it at Starbucks, and then at Wild Oats in a bottle. I would down one after a tough Yoga class. It was kind of like a candy drink both stimulating and sugary. Annually some one billion Indians consume chai tea daily,  and according to my friend Vidya who lived in India (where the drink comes from), chai tea is typically drunk hot, not cold and serves as a way to chill the body as opposed to consuming an iced cold drink the way we do in the States.

     

    The Indians believe that by drinking this blend of rich black Indian tea leaves infused with clove, cinnamon and cardamon one can  more healthfully reduce one’s body heat from the inside-out, as it were. Understandably this method works when air-conditioning and fans are not available! (Now here's a way to get off the grid!). It is common for Indians to run by a chai stand and gulp a hot one in a matter of seconds, creating the heat, the "shvitz" and the cool. On top of that the caffeine and sugar keep the motor going, as it were.

     

    The following is a recipe that Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis drink. The secret to this at home American preparation is the Red Label- Brooke Bond  loose leaf tea which is available at specialty markets. The label calls it "a cheerful drink for the family". Is that because it is not expensive and a little bit goes a long way? Or perhaps, because, and you can read  my lips:  IT IS STRONG. Still, all in all, this particular tea seems to have the natural warming spices within and feels soothing.  You can substitute the sugar with your favorite sweetener according to taste.

     

    1/8 cup of Red Leaf loose tea per cup of water

    1/8 cup of sugar

    1/8 cup of milk

    Bring the tea and water to a boil. Add the sugar to the boiling water, then add the milk. Allow

    the tea and milk mixture to boil so rapidly that it rises as if doubling in quantity. Remove from

    heat and strain the tea, milk, and sugar mixture into a pot or cups Discard the tea granules (for composting). Feel the buzz and chill.

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    Traveling thru Israel prompted many experiences for me, and to make sense of them I have reduced them into two primordial experiences: thinking and feeling. Pretty basic.

    I did a lot of thinking as we packed around the state of Israel and fed on education and information.  I went to bed at night filled to a mental capacity that would somehow download as I drifted into sleep. I noted and reviewed these facts with our tour guides and tour books the next day. I tried to link together biblical myth, historical and geographical points as we zig-zagged throughout the state. The ancient past, the state of the “state” and the techie future linked together seamlessly as my daily immersion into Middle Eastern realities gelled. The daily exposure to this controversial country and its people evoked in me a new found and ample respect for the country’s abilities to stand uniquely bold in the face of its’ adversaries, both old and new, deserved and undeserved, and certainly even to itself, perhaps in some ways, its own best and worst challenge. This could have happened in another country by another name, but it didn’t and thus was a singular experience for me in Israel.

    Now for the feeling. And for the “feelers” of the world, you would say, yeah baby, let’s rock (of ages).  For the thinkers, bear with me. Anyone who knows me couldn’t say I am either one or the other, and by the way, I think I am more of a feeler!  Even so, the feeling side is often muddled and confusing to me and I probably have a long way to go to sort all of them out. But as “feeling” pertains to Israel, it is a tangible experience that nudged me to look at my Jewish self. And thus the juncture that bridges the thought of Israel to the feeling in me:  I did FEEL connected to something deeper, emotional, and even primordial there. I also felt it in Petra, (more on that later) Jordan. And by the way, often times in my own backyard. Perhaps you can call it a spiritual self. I would say it is THAT spiritual self that tells me I am part of the whole and the whole is made up of all beings, and under one creation.

    Whether this spiritual self is Jewish or not, I don’t really care. I feel it, it’s there, and it does not dictate great ritual in my life except to stop and “smell the roses” whenever I can.  It just happens for me when I can be quiet and at peace: with the animals, with nature, and most of all, with myself. Creative expression certainly connects to this whole (holy?) place and so that is where I mostly reside.

    Perhaps my ambivalence towards Judaism results from growing up in a household with a Lutheran mother and a Jewish father. Mother converted to Judaism when she married Dad but swore that off when they separated. But as a child, Jewishness was more of a way of life as it existed in the form of a vigorous nod to a wonderfully colorful and quirky culture. Since this recent trip to Israel my heretofore shallow Jewish roots seem to have plowed through to a deeper appreciation for Judaism as I examined the literal path of the Old and New Testaments; the struggle of the Palestinians up to the 20thcentury; the plight of the Zionists and special armed reserves like the Palmach; families affected by the Holocaust and the great Yad Vashem memorial; and the current pursuit of a two state solution; and the constant evolution of a people who have struggled to keep intact a vast and rich culture.  This is where THE FEELING becomes a kind of pride.

    Kind of, because I hate to make this about ego. After all, I personally I had nothing to do with the development of Israel. My karen ami pennies could not have made the kibbutz’s thrive when they did, and water the “bread basket” that fed so many, and provide enclave for the Israeli defense industry. But the way I see it, they were little pennies that made bigger pennies, and little prayers (quiet awareness) that mark bigger prayers (louder awareness) so that one ripple creates another and so on. You gotta give the people credit: at the very least Israel can offer its lessons and elements about it can serve as a prototype or model that other countries which struggle with similar challenges might emulate.

     

    I swore this blog would not get socio-political and dear reader, it never will. But I have to appreciate the accomplishments of a people, despite religious motivation, (without condoning fanatacism), and in this case it happens to be anyone who worked hard to create a thriving, self-sufficient country. Is that because of Jewish roots? Does it result in a Jewish state? For those who want to think so perhaps, and for some it may STILL be the only motivation for a “machine” of a country that operates like a Swiss clock. Again, I personally don’t care. Anyway, my bet is the term “a Jewish state” will morph in definition and reform with natural evolution as new generations are born and the world becomes smaller and concessions and growth occur.

    As for my personal morph and growth, a noticeable shift has taken place in my head and heart as I become more capable of truly appreciating the hard work (understatement) and resolve (to the ninth) of a singular people who accomplished what they set out to do. Sometimes you DO have SEEit to BELIEVE IT. Kudos, Mazel Tov and Namaste. That’s all I will say about THAT and ALL THIS leads us dear reader to the final installment PETRA….

     

     

  • When you go to the Dead Sea you go to experience the healing waters and to visit Masada. Some people do this in two or three days but we found one day to be just fine. This included a crazy night at Le Meriden, a vast hotel that usually hosts a solid international guest list but the night we stayed the hotel was filled mostly with locals, as if a wedding party took over the place. The short of the story is that the hotel lost electricity for two hours which seemed to encourage guests to scramble with their post-Sabbath appetites to the sprawling buffet (all prepared before sunset).  With countless babies in tow, climbing temperatures, and declining oxygen particles, hundreds of people descended upon what seemed like miles of buffet tables.  Except for some flashlights, cellphones used as flashlights, and candles, people navigated the hotel, stairwells and by golly, the buffet! By the time the lights went up the throngs of guests cheered without missing a single bite! All seemed to forget about it by the next morning. I don’t think I ever will!

     Ladies at the Dead Sea

    THE SEA and  MASADA

    Ambitious tourists will get to the base of Masada’s precipitous plateau at 3:30 a.m. prepared to flank the side of the mountain via the harrowing Snake Path to the flattop in order to watch what is rumored to be a spectacular sunrise over Jordan, he Dead Sea and the Judean Desert. Note: don’t ever expect me to confirm this.

     Mud and Stripes at the Dead Sea

    In fact, we, ever the slothful tourists, chose to spend the a.m. at the Sea. More aptly put: ON the sea, encrusting our bodies with bromide, magnesium, potassium and chloride.  TRUST ME! The therapeutic water of the Dead Sea is not a myth and here’s why:  magnesium combats water retention and is good for the hair and nails; potassium energizes the body by decreasing inflammation and bringing moisture to the skin; bromides ease muscle tension and the sodium combinations improve overall immunity as a lymphatic drainage. Even if you don’t go onto the water (caveat: never dive or dunk) just breathing all that oxygen (there’s more below sea level) and the evaporating minerals will leave you feeling blissful. My favorite photos from the morning dip are not of us floating in/on the sea, but of the women who slathered their skin with Dead Sea mud.  I so enjoyed how they unselfconsciously meandered in their bathing costumes with muddy bodies fully enjoying the morning in nature’s perfect spa!

    MASADA

    Masada  Metzuda in Hebrew is a kind of vernacular buzz word which means “fortress” or “to hold out”.   This term refers to the Masada incident that happened 2000 years ago  and marks one of the more courageous and vainglorious episodes in Jewish history. Steeped in true gravitas, the story naturally makes for potentially good movies that Hollywood has grappled with a few times including an overreaching effort by Peter O’Toole. The historical documentation that recounts the Masada episode is called “The Jewish War” by Yosef Ben Matiyahu  a scribe who changed his name to Titus Flavius Josephus. Some historians claim he was present at the Masada site when he changed his name to Roman so as not to be part of the self imposed demise of the Jewish Zealots. In any event, his “documentation” is integral to the records of ancient Israel.

     Masada Bath House

    Here is a thin historical synopsis as recounted by Flavius :  Around 55 AD a group of Jews called the Zealots rose up against the Romans and captured a sparsely guarded, Dead Sea-side bachelor pad built around 43 B.C. by  and for the brilliant architect/engineer Herod the Great (an on again-off again Jew) who never lived to occupy it. Once it became a Jewish stronghold, Masada housed nearly 1000 men, women and children. At the end of four years the Roman army planted 8000 soldiers around the fortified desert structure. With Jewish slave labor, the Romans built a ramp strong enough to enable its army’s siege engines to climb. And while the people inside the fortress had enough food and water to last them for months thanks to the brilliantly engineered storage systems designed by Herod they still had to reinvent ways to keep the Romans out.  But as the Roman “human machine” began to kick into operation, the Zealots resigned to reality. As they set fire to their “digs” to delay the Romans, they made a pact to kill themselves rather than to be raped, tortured and murdered. Eleven men were chosen to kill the others; ten of the eleven were then executed by their fellow Zealot before he killed himself. They left their names behind on small tiles for their accountability. A few women and children managed to hide from the mass suicide and lived to tell the horrid truth.

     Israel 070

    It was high noon when we took the cable car to the Masada promontory which to the East provided a spectacular view of the Judean and Jordanian Desert with the  Dead Sea running like a zipper between.  From this vantage point one can comprehend how the Dead Sea, the Syrian-African fault line formed 3 million years ago, was caused by a massive earthquake. To the North one sees the vast Ein Gedi and various wadis (swaths of desert).   On the Western side, looking out over Masada’s Roman Ramp, one can sort of see Aradin the distance, a town some 45 miles away where people who earn their livelihoods at the Dead Sea, live.The wonderful archeological finds of the Masada dig are absolutely fascinating.  And while the rare antiquities like the bathhouse black and red tile floor and the stunning example of Byzantine tile work in the church (5th Century) are captivating for their rarity and beauty, it is the engineering of Masada’s infrastructure, including the sheer size of the water cisterns, store houses and protected shelters that impressed me the most. While these utility spaces were originally planned for a bachelor’s “villa” life, its usefulness truly proved itself when the hundreds of Zealots, and later others, took advantage of said facilities in order to survive an environment fraught with enemy, not the least of which was the desert itself.

     Israel 077

    Next Installment:

    Petra, Jordan: A Classic

    The National Treasury at Petra  

    Fall's Kitchen Muse: The Blue Pumpkin

    The Blue Pumpkin  

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