Shalom Mea Shearim!

Grey, dilapidated buildings along narrow streets devoid of any signs other than temporary pieces of paper announcing religious events. Bearded men in black hats and long coats. The occasional woman dragging her long skirt along the ground while tugging a bunch of kids along.

You could be forgiven for thinking you have just walked into a Jewish neighbourhood of pre war Eastern Europe. However, it’s present day business as usual in Mea Shaerim, a short walk from Damascus gate in the old, walled city of Jerusalem. This is home to the Hasedim people (ultra orthodox Jews).

This is where I decided to celebrate the holy festival of Purim. What I discovered was a very conservative religious group of people who’s passion allows them to leave their inhibitions aside once a year, and celebrate in a manner that could easily be misinterpreted by outsiders.

As a photo journalist I was able to join them in their celebrations, but it was made abundantly clear to me that other journalists in the past have sensationalized their behaviour. Yes, they are drunk. Yes, there were under age kids smoking. Yes, there were grown men doing summer saults down the middle of the road. However, they insisted that this was all part and parcel of their religious belief.

As a token of my appreciation for allowing me in, I would like to take this opportunity to invite all the Hasedim people out there to contribute in creating my picture texts. My collection of images from Mea Shearim can be found here.

Feel free to make comments below by indicating which picture you are referring to. Or drop me a line at spencer@photito.com

Your help will be much appreciated!

A final thank you to all the residents of Mea Shearim for making my visit so special.

 

Iced coffee to die for

There’s coffee, and then there’s café con leche! And every morning when I order my cup of liquid gold, I thank the coffee Gods that I live in Spain where every single order of ‘café con leche’ returns a wonderfully brewed masterpiece.

There’s a funny anecdote to this coffe story. You see, my parents have travelled abroad since they were in their early twenties. And being from Norway, travelling abroad inevitably means searching for the sun (more about this weird way of travel in this post). 

However, they never left home without a glass of instant Nescafé. They simply didn’t trust the gun powdery Greek espresso shots, or the jet black Spanish café solos. Instead they put their trust in Max Morgenthaler who once upon a time created that granulated version of coffee which deprived my parents of the real thing for so many years.

Thankfully, now things have changed. Well into their sixties, my parents have now discovered the beauty of café con leche. In fact, they are now hooked on the stuff. You should see them… as soon as they land in Malaga, they’re off to the nearest cafeteria to get their fix. And every morning they order one, two and sometimes even three cups of coffee at their local caf. That’s what fourty years of drinking Nescafé can do to you!

Yet, there’s one barrier left. This summer I will introduce them to ‘café con leche con hielo‘. (Introducing them to it in this case means teaching them how to pronounce it – we live in an area of Spain where waiters still speak Spanish, not English).

As you can see in the photograph above, iced coffee in Spain comes in its purest – and TASTIEST form. You get two glasses, one with piping hot café con leche and one full of ice cubes.

The procedure goes like this:

Add desired amount of sugar/sweetener to your coffee

Stir

Pour coffee content over the ice

Stir

ENJOY!