Rehovot is, by most accounts, a small and rather boring town. One main street, Hertzel, runs through the town and the shops along it apparently provide the totality of entertainment here, outside of the Institute. I've walked up and down Hertzel at least six times looking for something interesting (usually something interesting to eat) and have come to generally agree with these assertions. There is also a very large mall which would, except for the metal-detector-wielding guards and the gun-toting off-duty soldiers, feel right at home in any suburban community.
The establishments along the street are peculiarly dominated by these little convenience stores of a sort, each of which presents several bins of dry nuts, dates, and seeds quite prominantly, with a drink-filled refrigerator to the side, and various sundries (invariably including a rather large assortment of vodkas) deeper within. The curious thing about these stores is that they are all identical. Furthermore, none of them seem to carry anything I'd be tempted to buy, so they seem somewhat useless.
Aside from those little convenience stores, there is also a strange prevalence of ice cream shops, stray cats, lingere boutiques, and Russians. The ice cream shops are quite understandable given the high temperature and humidity; even so, it seems a bit excessive at 11pm when nothing but the ice cream shops is open. In all fairness, a greater variety is evident earlier in the afternoon; there are many bakeries with various cheese-filled pastries, and there are shoe stores, book stores, handbag stores, hair-care-product stores, stove stores...
Israeli driversIsraeli drivers are, according to legend, some of the worst in the world. They are, to be sure, very bad, but I'm sure there are crazier drivers elsewhere -- although they very well could be somewhere in Israel outside Rehovot. This is unfortunate, as it makes renting a car a less attractive means of transportation than they would otherwise be. This didn't, however, fase one of the Turks, who retorted, ``No worries, I learned to drive in Istanbul.''
RussiansIf this town has a second language, it must be Russian. Along Herzl all of the signs are in Hebrew, but one street up (I'd say "off axis") everything is in Russian. There is a multitude of Russian shops as well.
ShabatSaturday is the Jewish version of the Christian Sunday (irony intended), which means that the whole week is shifted one day earlier in time (or six days later), making Sunday Israel's version of Monday, and so forth. The Sabbath actually begins on Friday at sundown, whereupon services of all kinds (such as public transportation) suddenly cease. Nonetheless Friday night is reportedly the happening time for a night out on the town. Club-hopping in Tel Aviv is reportedly the modus operendi of the young and hip, but in Rehovot it's teenagers' night out. The town becomes a vertiable meet-market of fourteen-year-olds on the move, caf? hopping or just hanging out in droves on the street. The 18-22 year-old agegroup is curiously missing -- they're all in the army.
The sad truth is that there's absolutely nothing to do in Rehovot for most of the day during the weekend. On Saturday the sidewalks are empty and the shops are closed, and one finds oneself compelled to return to the Machown to work since there's nothing else to do. Allegedly the beach is only 5 km to the West, but unless one has a bicycle or a friend with a car, it's impossible to get there. Fortunately, the Institute is quite nice.
On Saturday evening (remember, that's like Sunday in California, i.e. the end of the weekend) at sundown Shabat ends and gradually the streets come to life again. People emerge from their houses eager for a walk through the landscaped environment of the Machon and hungry for a schwarma sandwich.
Us summer students have come to the conclusion that if we want to travel, the best scheme is to travel during the weekdays, and then work on the weekends. It's easier that way.
The Institute"Mach'own'' allegedly means "Institute'' in Hebrew, and is the word by which we refer to our beloved Weizmann Institute of Science, within whose benevolent confines we spend our days. It's been remarked that, for us summer students, the Institute is not so different from a kibbutz. We're effectively volunteering (we're paid about $500/month), room and board are heavily subsidized (rent is about $50/month), and we're living in a very self-contained environment.
The Institute is thoroughly impressive. Firstly, it's beautiful; but the quality of the laboratories is highly impressive as well. They seem to have everything here. I'll write more about that later.
Food There are without question vastly more kebaberies in Lund than in Rehovot, and the schwarma I had in Copenhagen is still far-and-away the best I've had; and I've been in Israel for a week without having yet eaten a falafel. In Sweden I would have had two or three by now. Nonetheless, I've seem pictures of the amazing build-your-own-falafel eateries in Tel Aviv, so I know they exist; perhaps eventually I'll find one in Rehovot as well. And all the kebab/schwarma I've found here has been made of turkey.
The reason for the absense of good schwarma has been a subject of some debate. Asmahan says it's just because schwarma made out of lamb would just be too expensive; amoungst us summer students there has been speculation about mad cow disease. Regarding falafel, Asmahan assures me that the best falafel to be found is to be found in Hebron.
On campus at the Institute food is relatively plentiful, at least between the hours of noon and two. Campus restaurants provide heavily subsidized food, although the degree of subsidization falls of markedly with the distance from the central administration building, and food at that building's cafeteria is by far the cheapest. There are `milk' restaurants and `meat' restaurants. At San Martin's, a meat restaurant, one can take a meat entr? and fill a plate with as much food as one wishes for a mere 19 shekels (about $4).
CoffeeApparently the Israelis aren't compulsive coffee drinkers to the extent that the Swedes are, although tea and instant coffee are staples, along with the occassional cappicino. Turkish coffee is available (in styrofoam cups, blech) in the cafeterias, but I regard it with suspicion -- it consists of finely ground coffee that you mix directly with hot water without filtering, so there's this unpleasant coffee sludge at the bottom of your cup.
HebrewHebrew is, of course, written right-to-left, and one is occassionally lead to ponder whether the Hebrew speakers speak backwards in time, or if perhaps they find it necessary to watch DVDs in reverse. It's a bit daunting to understand none of the language whatsoever, but I have found that it is possible to order a schwarma sandwitch in Hebrew knowing only two words. (First, say "Schwarma." Then say "Kan" ("yes'') in response to any questions; alternatively, nod and/or point as needed.) I eagerly await the opportunity to try out Eric's guide to ordering a falafel in Hebrew.
An added complication is that written Hebrew lacks vowels, so, in order to read, you have to already know the language. For example, you must be able to fill in the vowels when you see "SLVM" and know that it means "Shalom," "hello''. This is not yet a problem, because I haven't yet figured out even the consonants. Several of us summer students are actively begging for them to run a Hebrew class for us and we're told that we'll probably get one.
An added curiosity with Hebrew is that it wasn't spoken in modern times as a day-to-day language until about 1922, when it was re-established as a modern language. In this sense I think the Zionists did with Hebrew in Israel what the intentional-language folks have failed to do with Esperanto in the world -- or anywhere for that matter.
Not speaking the language leads to experimentation that can be highly amusing. A few nights ago I wandered into an ice cream shop and contemplated the various, mysterious flavours of gellato available. One must start somewhere, so I pointed to a yellowish flavour and asked the highly attractive ice-cream-girl "What is this flavour?" She smiled and said, "It's XXXXX, it's good! Here, try it!" as she handed me a little spoon with a sample. But she didn't stop there! She jumped to another, saying "This is YYYY, it's good too!" and handing me another little spoon. She seemed determined to both teach me Hebrew and let me try every flavor of ice cream. It really made my evening. (Eventually, with my hands full of countless little spoons, I chose the first flavor I'd tried.)
Answering the telephoneAnnoyingly, my computer is right next to the telephone, so occassionally I am compelled to answer it. There seems to be some kind of protocol that goes "Hello?"--"Shalom?"--"Hello?"--"Hello..." whereby the caller tries to invoke the speaking of hebrew on the part of the called party.
RoomAll of us summer students live in the basement of Biet Clore, a space that was apparently escavated just for us. ``Biet'' means `house' and the official title of this place is The Charles Clore International House, or something like that. It's building number "1" on the map and it's really quite conveniently located on campus, directly across from the main administration building, which is in turn just down the street from the building in which I work.
The basement floor consists of an outer ring of rooms and a core of common areas, with a hallway in between. We have a kitchen, an eating area, and a TV room, not to mention the laundry room and the video room (locked and thus unexplored). Our kitchen, being as it is devoid of any pots, pans, plates, cutlery, or any other kind of cookware, is all but useless. Upstairs there is a significant lobby area where you can read the Jerusalem Post if it hasn't disappeared already (Anton observes: "The newspapers are all either old, or in Hebrew."), play cards with the Chinese people who seem to always be there playing cards, or even play the piano in the piano room.
Our rooms are comfortably sized, perhaps nearly twice the size of my room in Sweden, although here I have a roommate. The room is furnished similarly; we each have a bed, a desk, a chair, a desklamp, and some shelves. I felt pretty 31337 installing my own (er, Allison's) attractive blue and yellow sheets to use instead of the standard issue white ones.
Each room has an air conditioner. This is important. I think, also, that it helps being on the lowest floor, and partially below ground level; the upper floors are noticably warmer.
There's plenty of wildlife here in Rehovot -- cockroaches that could swallow a man, for example -- but fortunately Biet Clore seems to be quite clean and free from these critters.
Summer StudentsWe haven't done much together yet. I tried to organise a trip to Tel Aviv last Friday (which, let me remind you, is part of the weekend) but it didn't work out, and by the time I got to the train station (14:20) the last train had already gone.
Anyway. We're an odd crew, very different from the group in Sweden. There's two Turks, an Indian, a couple Yugoslavians/Serbians, a bunch of Russians, a few Americans, two Canadians. I think we can roughly be divided into two groups: those who have relatives in Israel and those who don't. Those that have relatives and friends here spend the weekends and afternoons off with their friends in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem and elsewhere while the rest of us are left bumbling around the Institute looking for something to do.
One answer is just to work all the time. Another is to go up to a shop and buy a couple bottles of Carlsberg to drink at the Machon. Oddly enough the main beer here seems to be Carlsberg our beer of choice in Sweden too; brewed, if you recall, in Copenhagen, Denmark, by my future employer and Tuborg (another Danish brewery owned by Carlsberg). I tried buying some Israeli stuff in an attempt to experience some kind of local flavor, but it turned out not to be beer at all but some funky non-alcoholic Israeli malt.
Source: Tobin Fricke. Impressions of Rehovot (last viewed 6 May 2005) [
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