Alex and Yad Vashem

I just walked several kilometers through the streets of Alexandria to find this internet cafe, apparently the single one in the city that is open past midnight. (In Cairo, I was spoiled by having a 24hour right next to my hostel.)

I asked many Egyptians for directions, and they were all good people who did not call me "friend." I spent a good amount of time walking alone next to a tram track with decayed white European-looking buildings from the eary 2oth century with balconies and large windows. Egypt is full of decayed and decaying European buildings, but it's a bit more pleasant in Alex. The air is much cooler and cleaner. The decay along the waterfront feels harmless rather than depressing. And the desertedness of the streets is not threatening, because every block or so there is a cafe full of Arabs playing backgammon. It's also a Sunday night. Sunday nights feel depressing in some cities, but in Alexandria, the low-key Sunday night vibe seems to fit the city's personality.

I just ate an oversized "Greek salad" of cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and sweet cheese accompanied by shisha, baklava, and some other sweets. I was the only person on the street save for a few groups of Egyptian boys holding hands and Egyptian girls holding hands and two people who tried to sell me watches. The place I ate at is called "Athenios." I think it's been around since the city was full of Greeks, Jews, French, and Englishmen, and now, it's a Greek pastry shop owned by Egyptians. Fortunately, the Egyptians still understand how to make excellent baklava.

So, going back to Israel, the next place we went after Tiberias and the Golan was Jerusalem, as far as I can remember. The first place we went to there was Yad Vashem, the holocaust memorial. It disturbed me in more ways than I thought it would. But it's not. Many times throughout my life, I've seen memorials like it and been upset that something like that could happen, as most people are. When you build a great memorial to something, it's a way of signifying that it's over, and Yad Vashem made me upset that holocausts and genocides continue to happen all over the world.

The section devoted to people who resisted their governments and saved Jews was the only hopeful part of the museum for me, but it also reminded me just how exceptional those people are. I'd like to think that I'm capable of being Raoul Wallenberg if the opportunity presents itself, but I don't know.

The most disturbing thing about Yad Vashem was that it offered relief. There was something comforting about walking through a massive memorial to the Holocaust in the midst of the picturesque Judean hills. But it was a misleading kind of comfort. The museum sits there in Jerusalem and Holocausts continue to happen throughout the world while Yad Vashem reassures people like me that all I need to do is "remember."

That night, we went out in Jerusalem to Ben Yehuda street. It's one of the coolest pedestrian streets I've ever seen. But I'm going to call it quits now, because I'm tired and I'd like to navigate across half of Alexandria earlier rather than later.