It has come to my attention that my readership has become anxious for a new post, but the truth is that nothing exciting has happened lately. In the past few weeks Workshop 59 has fallen into a bit of a routine. That's not to say that we're unhappy, just that we've become settled. Our weeks follow a predictable pattern punctuated by Yom Kvutsah, Hebrew class, and the occasional Friday night at the pub. And this settled feeling has come not a moment too soon, as in roughly two weeks we'll be leaving our comfortable little privatized village and moving to the city. My kvutsah discovered yesterday that we'll be moving to Akko, the hummus capital of Israel and home of Hapoal Akko soccer team, whose games are frequently interrupted by a chicken crossing the field. Located right on the beach, the city can be traversed by foot in 20 minutes, and is only a short hop north of Haifa, one of the largest and most important cities in Israel.
But taking a cue from David Sedaris, I'd like to now turn my focus to my struggle with the Hebrew language. Having given up the language at the age of thirteen upon graduation from the Portland Jewish Academy, I came to Israel with the goal of gaining back what I lost and really taking a crack at Hebrew. Progress has been slow, but I take my victories as they come, and in between the blank stares and awkward mix-ups I've actually had a few wonderful triumphs. Let me share those with you now.
Starting with my work in the Gan Yeladim (nursery). While being stumped by a four year old is rather frustrating, nothing makes you feel quite as helpless as when they come crying to you about some injustice that occurred on the playground while a) you don't know what they're talking about because you only catch a few pronouns and conjunctions between all the sobbing and foreign vocabulary, and b) even if you could understand them you were never given a crash course in Israeli disciplinary policy. Since four year olds are very impressionable, I usually try to simply convince them that they're fine, "ata beseder," which works in most situations. But when it doesn't, I steer them toward a more qualified Israeli educator to deal with the problem.
However, every once in a while there does arise a situation which requires a stricter assertion of my authority. This is difficult to do because I usually feel about as authoritative and as qualified to take care of these children as, say, a billy goat. As in not qualified at all, and usually downright useless. So keeping that in mind, what do you do when a kid is chewing on an eraser and the only reprimand you can think of in Hebrew is "This is not pleasant"? Not exactly ruling with an iron fist here. The best is when the women who work in the Gan leave me alone to watch over the 25 rugrats as they run around their playground (which is mostly comprised of old kitchen appliances and the like). Not only do I not know their disciplinary policy, first aid, or Hebrew, but I'm also not an employee at the Gan and therefore can't be held liable for any injuries if one of the kiddies chokes on a teapot because the only thing I can say to deter them is "This is not pleasant."
However, the upside to this constant feeling of isolation and helplessness is that the small triumphs seem like huge victories. Take, for example, a conversation I had with a woman at the sewing store in Afula a few weeks ago while buying buttons:
Saleswoman [while I'm poking around the cramped space behind the front desk in order to find the appropriate buttons for a sweater]: What can I help you find? It'll be impossible for you to find anything back there without my help.
Me: I'm looking for buttons for a coat [Lie. It was actually a sweater but that's not in my vocabulary.]
Saleswoman: This sweater? [Pointing to my gray cardigan.]
Me: No, but in the color... [Pointing to my cardigan.]
Saleswoman: Gray.
Me: Yes.
Saleswoman: Do you want buttons this size? [Points to small buttons.]
Me: No, bigger. How about those? [Pointing to large gray buttons on the wall behind the saleswoman].
Saleswoman: These? [She points to the buttons a row below the ones I want.]
Me: No. [Crap, how do I say "up"?] Those. No those. Oops, no those. [How do you say "left"? I used to know how to say it, right up until I went to buy buttons.]
Lacking my help, the saleswoman finally located the right ones, and together we counted out five. I payed, thanked her, and left the store, reveling in the glory of my first fully functional Hebrew conversation with a native speaker.
With each day comes more opportunities to sound like an idiot, but also to learn new words and boost my confidence. One advantage of working with three and four year olds is that they're very forgiving, and can even be very helpful. For example, last week I drew pictures with an adorable girl named Tamar, and she taught me the word "colorful" by telling me that black is not very colorful and neither is white. Instead, she insisted on filling her page by scribbling in bright shades of every color. I practiced my new vocabulary word by telling her that her drawing was very colorful, and, of course, "this is very pleasant."
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A Week for Zionism
As much fun as making fun of Israeli society is, there's only so much of that you can do before you start making the same jokes over and over again. So with that said, I think the tone of my posts might change a little bit. Ah, maturity. So with that little disclaimer, let me tell you about my week and the questions it raised about what exactly am I doing in this God-forsaken country?
First for a little background. MASA is an organization which sponsors programs and provides grants to Jewish youth living in the diaspora in order to bring them to Israel. For example, MASA gave me a $1000 scholarship to come to Israel, and in return I need to attend 3-4 MASA events over the course of the nine months that I'm here. They are a relatively right-wing organization - a few months ago they launched a controversial campaign against intermarriage - but they bring about 8000 Jewish kids to Israel every year on a variety of programs.
Last Sunday, October 25th, we had the pleasure of attending our first MASA event. It was a concert featuring Idan Raichel (a fairly prominent Israeli musician) which was held at the event center in Jerusalem and attended by roughly 3000 of these diaspora youth from all parts of the globe. The event began with several short speeches made by a few of Israel's right-wing politicians, all echoing similar messages of "Ignore what you see in the media! Immigrate to Israel! Make Aliyah!" We all found this very funny and did our best to make fun of not only MASA but all the other naive Jewish kids there who bought their message.
When the concert began, Miriam and I decided that in order to entertain ourselves, we were going to do our very best to get to the stage. Now, we started out in the balcony of this massive auditorium, so getting to the stage involved considerable effort. We had to lie to the ushers guarding the main floor that we had left our tickets at our seats, and then push our way through a giant crowd of people who all had a similar idea. Along the way I spotted a number of people I know, which illustrated to me how small the North American Jewish Community really was. I ran into friends of mine from home who were on other programs in Israel for the year, their friends that I had met when visiting a few weekends ago, a girl who knew people on my program from a dance class back home, and I even spotted the cute boy who had been on our airplane to Israel (reference my second post). Eventually we managed to push our way all to the stage, where Miriam spent an uncomfortable half hour pushed against the security guard who was running crowd control. So all in all, we won the MASA event.
The week of Zionism continued as the theme of our classes was "Jews in North America." We read texts about assimilation and discussed whether or not you could really be a Zionist while living in North America, or anywhere in the Diaspora for that matter. We also talked about how the Jewish communities in North America are weakening significantly. This rung true with me because I know that, at least in Portland, something like 60 percent of the Jewish population is completely unaffiliated with any Jewish organizations or activities. This disengagement is a large part of the problem of assimilation, which could eventually lead to the complete disappearance of Jews in North America. An especially interesting question that was raised was what held our communities together. In the shtetls of Eastern Europe, it was the constant threat of being persecuted, so Jews had to be a cohesive, self-sufficient group. Now that Jews have achieved relative success in North America (think Albert Einstein, Natalie Portman, and even Bernie Madoff), we no longer have this mentality of being victims, and therefore we depend on each other less and less. Instead we focus on our individual educations and professional career goals. Is being victims such a significant part of our identity that we can't thrive as Jews without it? Is assimilation the only way we can be successful in the North American community at large? And if our Judaism is becoming less and less a part of our identity, what's the point of having a Jewish state?
Then, to top the week off, on Friday morning we headed to the Yitzhak Rabin Seminar. To explain seminars, they are programs anywhere from a weekend to a week long which are held by Habonim and consist of a series of peulot addressing a specific issues. THey're also usually attended by Habos not only from North America but from all over the world. At the seminar this past weekend, there were Habos from Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Mexico, UK, Holland, Australia, South Africa, and of course North America - about 160 people in total. The focus of the seminar was Yitzchak Rabin, one of Israel's former prime ministers who was assassinated in November of 1995. Rabin was a leading figure in the signing of the Oslo Accords, and at the time of his assssination, he was preparing to trade land to the surrounding Arab countries in return for peace. Rabin's willingness to negotiate with the Arabs in order to achieve peace infuriated the right-wing, and on November 11th, Rabin was assassinated by Yigal Amir, a right-wing activist, at a peace rally in Zion Square in Tel Aviv, which has since been renamed Rabin Square (Kikar Rabin).
Though the point of the seminar was allegedly to talk about Rabin and prepare for the Rabin rally which is held every year in Kikar Rabin, we spent most of the time discussing the problems that exist in Israeli society, which include (but are not limited to) problems with democracy, problems with Zionism, and problems with Jewish versus Israeli identity. Here are some questions I came away from the seminar with:
Is the idea of a Jewish state inherently undemocratic? Is there a sort of built-in racism in that?
Is there a difference between a Jewish state and a State for the Jews?
Now that we have a Jewish state, what purpose should Zionism serve? Does it serve any purpose? Should it be dismantled?
What responsibilities do Diaspora Jews have to Israel? What responsibilities do Israeli Jews have to Jews in the Diaspora?
What does it mean to be an Israeli as opposed to being Jewish? How do we reconcile these identities to live in a Jewish Israeli state?
So after that torrent of questions, let me elaborate a little. We read several texts during the seminar which had different ideas of how to deal with the problems that Israel faces, the largest of which being not the conflict with the Palestinians but rather a national apathy towards the democratic process. Or rather what can be more accurately described as a lack of faith. One of the more inflammatory texts we read and discussed was an 2007 interview with Avrum Burg, the former head of the Knesset (the Israeli cabinet), who has now become completely disillusioned by Zionism and the state of the State of Israel. He said,"Zionism is like scaffolding - now that the Jewish state has been built, [Zionism] should be dismantled." He also said, "Israel is a body without a soul." In saying this, he was pointing to the fact that Israel, which was initially designed in the days before Israel existed to be a "light unto the nations," now seems to exist only to defend itself, and a nation which exists only to exist is worthless. He further elaborated to say that of the three main parts of his identity - human, Jew, and Israeli - the Israeli part of his identity undermines the other two. In essence, he said that his Israeliness undermines his humanity and does nothing to serve his Judaism. He demonstrated his disillusionment with the state by using his French passport to vote in the French elections, because he felt that voting against Sarkozy served the world better than anything he could do in Israel. He even went a step further and suggested that Israel is a failed experiment, and every Israeli who has a foreign passport should leave the country.
Burg's solution was to abandon Zionism and the "dying state" it created, but is that the only way? A South African in my group likened Burg's response to the way Jews reacted to the Spanish Inquisition - just leave. He called it the "Jewish Solution." We are a people that can never have a home.
After that depressing text, we read another which was written in the 70's by Abba Eben discussion Labor Zionism. Labor Zionism, as opposed to more right-wing theories of Zionism, has as its central tennant not only the "What" of a Jewish state - that is, the belief in a Jewish state - but also the "How". In other words, we, as Zionists, must constantly be striving towards creating an ideal society, which is, I suppose, based on Jewish values. The state should not only exist but be a cultural and spiritual center, a just and fair society which should serve as an example to all other nations. Therefore, a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would not only be valuable in and of itself, but also as an example to the rest of the world that peace can exist even between two peoples who are so deeply routed in their opposing beliefs.
The educational part of our weekend was concluded by reading a speech made by Yitzchak Rabin about the responsibility of the youth to improve Israeli society. Made in 1994, the speech was strangely similar to the message that Obama recently used to win the presidency - that is, change. Oppose convention not for the sake of rebellion, but rather to accomplish something greater than what we had before.
And with that they sent us back out into the world as newly formed activists. The countdown until when we actually take to the streets has begun; only six weeks left until we leave kibbutz and begin volunteering. I'm already beginning to miss it here. The mud, the gourmet food, the hostile environment... You know what they say - there's no place like home. In order to take advantage of our time left here - and also because we were at the seminar for Halloween - we're going all out for our Halloween party this weekend. There's even an event on Facebook; the description reads "I decided it was important to make a facebook group to hype this epic rager. Sometimes it's hard to get word around when you live within a thirty foot radius of everyone you know... " Unfortunately, there are no Diaspora Jews allowed.
Until next time!
First for a little background. MASA is an organization which sponsors programs and provides grants to Jewish youth living in the diaspora in order to bring them to Israel. For example, MASA gave me a $1000 scholarship to come to Israel, and in return I need to attend 3-4 MASA events over the course of the nine months that I'm here. They are a relatively right-wing organization - a few months ago they launched a controversial campaign against intermarriage - but they bring about 8000 Jewish kids to Israel every year on a variety of programs.
Last Sunday, October 25th, we had the pleasure of attending our first MASA event. It was a concert featuring Idan Raichel (a fairly prominent Israeli musician) which was held at the event center in Jerusalem and attended by roughly 3000 of these diaspora youth from all parts of the globe. The event began with several short speeches made by a few of Israel's right-wing politicians, all echoing similar messages of "Ignore what you see in the media! Immigrate to Israel! Make Aliyah!" We all found this very funny and did our best to make fun of not only MASA but all the other naive Jewish kids there who bought their message.
When the concert began, Miriam and I decided that in order to entertain ourselves, we were going to do our very best to get to the stage. Now, we started out in the balcony of this massive auditorium, so getting to the stage involved considerable effort. We had to lie to the ushers guarding the main floor that we had left our tickets at our seats, and then push our way through a giant crowd of people who all had a similar idea. Along the way I spotted a number of people I know, which illustrated to me how small the North American Jewish Community really was. I ran into friends of mine from home who were on other programs in Israel for the year, their friends that I had met when visiting a few weekends ago, a girl who knew people on my program from a dance class back home, and I even spotted the cute boy who had been on our airplane to Israel (reference my second post). Eventually we managed to push our way all to the stage, where Miriam spent an uncomfortable half hour pushed against the security guard who was running crowd control. So all in all, we won the MASA event.
The week of Zionism continued as the theme of our classes was "Jews in North America." We read texts about assimilation and discussed whether or not you could really be a Zionist while living in North America, or anywhere in the Diaspora for that matter. We also talked about how the Jewish communities in North America are weakening significantly. This rung true with me because I know that, at least in Portland, something like 60 percent of the Jewish population is completely unaffiliated with any Jewish organizations or activities. This disengagement is a large part of the problem of assimilation, which could eventually lead to the complete disappearance of Jews in North America. An especially interesting question that was raised was what held our communities together. In the shtetls of Eastern Europe, it was the constant threat of being persecuted, so Jews had to be a cohesive, self-sufficient group. Now that Jews have achieved relative success in North America (think Albert Einstein, Natalie Portman, and even Bernie Madoff), we no longer have this mentality of being victims, and therefore we depend on each other less and less. Instead we focus on our individual educations and professional career goals. Is being victims such a significant part of our identity that we can't thrive as Jews without it? Is assimilation the only way we can be successful in the North American community at large? And if our Judaism is becoming less and less a part of our identity, what's the point of having a Jewish state?
Then, to top the week off, on Friday morning we headed to the Yitzhak Rabin Seminar. To explain seminars, they are programs anywhere from a weekend to a week long which are held by Habonim and consist of a series of peulot addressing a specific issues. THey're also usually attended by Habos not only from North America but from all over the world. At the seminar this past weekend, there were Habos from Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Mexico, UK, Holland, Australia, South Africa, and of course North America - about 160 people in total. The focus of the seminar was Yitzchak Rabin, one of Israel's former prime ministers who was assassinated in November of 1995. Rabin was a leading figure in the signing of the Oslo Accords, and at the time of his assssination, he was preparing to trade land to the surrounding Arab countries in return for peace. Rabin's willingness to negotiate with the Arabs in order to achieve peace infuriated the right-wing, and on November 11th, Rabin was assassinated by Yigal Amir, a right-wing activist, at a peace rally in Zion Square in Tel Aviv, which has since been renamed Rabin Square (Kikar Rabin).
Though the point of the seminar was allegedly to talk about Rabin and prepare for the Rabin rally which is held every year in Kikar Rabin, we spent most of the time discussing the problems that exist in Israeli society, which include (but are not limited to) problems with democracy, problems with Zionism, and problems with Jewish versus Israeli identity. Here are some questions I came away from the seminar with:
Is the idea of a Jewish state inherently undemocratic? Is there a sort of built-in racism in that?
Is there a difference between a Jewish state and a State for the Jews?
Now that we have a Jewish state, what purpose should Zionism serve? Does it serve any purpose? Should it be dismantled?
What responsibilities do Diaspora Jews have to Israel? What responsibilities do Israeli Jews have to Jews in the Diaspora?
What does it mean to be an Israeli as opposed to being Jewish? How do we reconcile these identities to live in a Jewish Israeli state?
So after that torrent of questions, let me elaborate a little. We read several texts during the seminar which had different ideas of how to deal with the problems that Israel faces, the largest of which being not the conflict with the Palestinians but rather a national apathy towards the democratic process. Or rather what can be more accurately described as a lack of faith. One of the more inflammatory texts we read and discussed was an 2007 interview with Avrum Burg, the former head of the Knesset (the Israeli cabinet), who has now become completely disillusioned by Zionism and the state of the State of Israel. He said,"Zionism is like scaffolding - now that the Jewish state has been built, [Zionism] should be dismantled." He also said, "Israel is a body without a soul." In saying this, he was pointing to the fact that Israel, which was initially designed in the days before Israel existed to be a "light unto the nations," now seems to exist only to defend itself, and a nation which exists only to exist is worthless. He further elaborated to say that of the three main parts of his identity - human, Jew, and Israeli - the Israeli part of his identity undermines the other two. In essence, he said that his Israeliness undermines his humanity and does nothing to serve his Judaism. He demonstrated his disillusionment with the state by using his French passport to vote in the French elections, because he felt that voting against Sarkozy served the world better than anything he could do in Israel. He even went a step further and suggested that Israel is a failed experiment, and every Israeli who has a foreign passport should leave the country.
Burg's solution was to abandon Zionism and the "dying state" it created, but is that the only way? A South African in my group likened Burg's response to the way Jews reacted to the Spanish Inquisition - just leave. He called it the "Jewish Solution." We are a people that can never have a home.
After that depressing text, we read another which was written in the 70's by Abba Eben discussion Labor Zionism. Labor Zionism, as opposed to more right-wing theories of Zionism, has as its central tennant not only the "What" of a Jewish state - that is, the belief in a Jewish state - but also the "How". In other words, we, as Zionists, must constantly be striving towards creating an ideal society, which is, I suppose, based on Jewish values. The state should not only exist but be a cultural and spiritual center, a just and fair society which should serve as an example to all other nations. Therefore, a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would not only be valuable in and of itself, but also as an example to the rest of the world that peace can exist even between two peoples who are so deeply routed in their opposing beliefs.
The educational part of our weekend was concluded by reading a speech made by Yitzchak Rabin about the responsibility of the youth to improve Israeli society. Made in 1994, the speech was strangely similar to the message that Obama recently used to win the presidency - that is, change. Oppose convention not for the sake of rebellion, but rather to accomplish something greater than what we had before.
And with that they sent us back out into the world as newly formed activists. The countdown until when we actually take to the streets has begun; only six weeks left until we leave kibbutz and begin volunteering. I'm already beginning to miss it here. The mud, the gourmet food, the hostile environment... You know what they say - there's no place like home. In order to take advantage of our time left here - and also because we were at the seminar for Halloween - we're going all out for our Halloween party this weekend. There's even an event on Facebook; the description reads "I decided it was important to make a facebook group to hype this epic rager. Sometimes it's hard to get word around when you live within a thirty foot radius of everyone you know... " Unfortunately, there are no Diaspora Jews allowed.
Until next time!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Yam L'Yam, Bank Account Balagan, and So Much Proma
So it's been awhile since I've last written, and I apologize for that, but it's been pretty busy around here. Since I last wrote, I've gone on a four-day tiyul (hike) with a bunch of crazy Brits, Aussies, and South Africans, negotiated with agents at an Israeli bank, and attended Prom. (I also went to class, did my Hebrew homework, and went on a cleaning rampage, but don't worry, I'm not going to talk about verb tenses and how much this country loves squeegees.) Anyhow, I've been a little busy, but I'll go on and tell you all about the past two weeks.
As I mentioned briefly in my last post, Yam L'Yam is a hike that Workshop does every year with habos from England, Australia, and South Africa. Yam L'Yam literally translates to "Sea to Sea," and you hike from the Mediterranean Sea to the Kinneret, also called the Sea of Galilee, which lies on the eastern border of Israel. Here's the disclaimer: of the approximately 70 kilometers that separate the Mediterranean from the Kinneret, we only hiked about 40k, and were bused the rest of the way. A little bit of a letdown, I know, but it went something like this:
Tues Oct 6: Board the buses at Kibbutz Ein Dor and drive an hour and a half to the Meditteranean, where we meet up with the Australians and South Africans for a small ceremony. The ceremony basically involves filling a small water bottle with water from the Mediterranean in order to carry it to the Kinneret. The symbology is quite moving. When that's through we split up into our hiking groups - there are four groups, each with a roughly even distribution of North Americans, Brits, Aussies, and South Africans - and get back on the buses. We drive about half an hour to a trailhead where we eat lunch with our hiking groups and begin hiking. About 20 minutes into our hike, it appears that we've gone the wrong way, so we turn around and hike 20 minutes back out. Once we arrive back at our initial location, we take another trail which is apparently the right one. We hike about 4k, upon which we board the buses again and drive back to a camping site located a few minutes walk from where we started. Disillusionment #1. We put up tents and eat dinner, and Sara comments that the campsite resembles the Quidditch World Cup (tents, funny accents, etc). It begins to rain... and so ends day one.
Wed Oct 7: It appears that during the course of the first day of tiyul, many people have fallen ill with what can only be described as Shilshul Balagan ("shilshul" translates to diarrhea, and "balagan" to something like gong show or big mess). Nevertheless, we pack up our tents and (suprise!) get back on the buses, which drive us roughly 45 minutes to the starting location of today's hike. This portion of the hike is filled with cows, and cow pies, galore. Today we're hiking about 12k. At around 0.5k we begin the Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus singalongs. At around 3k we begin speaking in Russian accents. At 5k we see a dead wild boar. At 6k we stop for lunch, and at around 9k we give up on the singalongs and start doing superlatives to fill the time. For example, which girl on Workshop would have the biggest penis? Who's the best to bring home to parents? And who would make the most substantive meal? All hypothetically speaking, of course. When we finally finish the hike, we get back on the buses and drive to another location to camp for the night. Tonight there's a big campfire and the different groups take advantage of the opportunity to display some national pride. Tonight I also learn that when singing en masse, Australians sound like pirates.
Thurs Oct 8: The Shilshul Saga continues (yala balagan balagan balagan!) and a few more are added to their ranks. The hike today is similar to yesterday's... gorgeous scenery, Russian accents, and lots of Miley Cyrus. During the largest ascent which ends the day's hike, we break out in Miley Cyrus's "The Climb," which does wonderful things for the group's morale. Then we get back on the bus and return to last night's campsite. I love hiking 12k and arriving back in the same place. Tonight the group is finally starting to feel the effect of the last three days, and national pride is at significantly lower levels. This is a good thing because our tent is located in the British Quarter of the campsite, so we're able to avoid any turf wars or heated conversations involving the phrases "We won the war" or "All the Yankees are homos." (It's happened before.)
Fri Oct 9: On the last day of the hike we walk only 4k through a banana plantation and a few random parking lots. We have about an hour to swim in the Kinneret (which is noticeably dirtier after hosting the 120 dirtiest kids in Israel), then we eat lunch and end with another moving ceremony in which we dump our little bottle of Mediterranean water into the Kinneret. On the bus again back to the Kibbutz, and so ends Yam L'Bus L'Yam.
But it's not over! After a relaxing weekend, Simon and I, as treasurers of our kvutsah, head to Afulla (a small city about half an hour away from Kibbutz) to pick up our bank card for the account we opened the week previously. When we arrive at the bank, we take a number and wait patiently to see the agent. When our number is finally called, we go over to booth 27, expecting to easily retrieve our bank card. The only glitch was we had underestimated the power of corporate bureaucracy, and it turns out that we need our passports to receive our bank card because (as the agent so kindly put it) "How can I give card to you if I don't know that it's really you?" Touché. We both had our driver's licenses on us, but apparently that wasn't good enough. So we politely thank the man and retreat in order to regroup and strategize. You see it wasn't only a matter of not wanting to go back to kibbutz to get our passports; the problem was that our passports were currently at the American Embassy in order to get visas so we can stay in Israel past December.
We decide that, based on our observation thus far of Israeli society, you need to be aggressive in order to get things done. So we take another number and aggressively wait to see the agent again. When our number is called, we return to the agent's desk (who looks less than excited to see us again) and work through a near mathematical proof of how he can verify our identities using our driver's licenses and the documents we have brought with us from when we opened the account. Israeli Bank Man acknowledges that our argument is compelling, and sends us to another man to make our appeal. Israeli Bank Man #2 has a slightly larger desk and a tea set, so I assume he is the head of that section and has slightly more authority. We present our argument to him, and, convinced, he sends us back to Israeli Bank Man #1 to tell him that we have his approval. Israeli Bank Man #1 apologizes, reaches into his desk, and gives us the bank card. After signing about 100 pages of documents which we can neither read nor understand, we're out of there.
Moving right along to Prom, the next morning there's an announcement that Prom will be held Wednesday night, so we had best get dates as soon as possible. This is where the drama begins. Ringo asks Tali to prom that night, but she says he's not trying hard enough and she won't say yes until he does something creative. So Ringo writes a poem that goes something like "I'm bad at rhyming, but roses are blue... please go to prom with me." Tali says yes. However, Dave wanted to go to Prom with Ringo because they've been best friends since 2003, and Peacock wants to go to Prom with Dave. Meanwhile, Leya asks Joey to Prom, but Joey has already said yes to Jonah. Nevertheless in order to spare hurt feelings, Joey says yes to Leya also. The next two days continue in a similar fashion, punctuated by random Gossip Girl notes popping up on walls and mirrors and bulletin boards that read something like this: "Spotted. N eyeing S, even though M has already asked N to Prom. Will it last? XOXO, Gossip Girl."
Fortunately all the Proma (Prom + Drama... Proma) was resolved by the night of the big dance, and the most important night of my adolescent life is everything I had imagined it would be. My date, Erez, and I dress up as Wolverine and Storm (respectively). We fit in quite well with all the other couples, who are dressed as everything from Chuck and Blaire to Fred and Wilma to the Trailer Trash couple to the Emo Couple, complete with dark eye makeup and Panic-at-the-Disco hair. When we enter we take a picture in front of a Prom '09 sign, and then most of us hang out around the punch bowl until the Truth-or-Dare type festivities begin. Though my date couldn't help but pop a few balloons with his claws, and at the after-Prom party the Dutch girls took over our kitchen, the night went mostly without incidence.
Coming soon: navigating public transit in Tel Aviv with the help of many Israelis - and without the help of one very unhelpful Russian man. Have a good weekend! XOXO... oh god.
As I mentioned briefly in my last post, Yam L'Yam is a hike that Workshop does every year with habos from England, Australia, and South Africa. Yam L'Yam literally translates to "Sea to Sea," and you hike from the Mediterranean Sea to the Kinneret, also called the Sea of Galilee, which lies on the eastern border of Israel. Here's the disclaimer: of the approximately 70 kilometers that separate the Mediterranean from the Kinneret, we only hiked about 40k, and were bused the rest of the way. A little bit of a letdown, I know, but it went something like this:
Tues Oct 6: Board the buses at Kibbutz Ein Dor and drive an hour and a half to the Meditteranean, where we meet up with the Australians and South Africans for a small ceremony. The ceremony basically involves filling a small water bottle with water from the Mediterranean in order to carry it to the Kinneret. The symbology is quite moving. When that's through we split up into our hiking groups - there are four groups, each with a roughly even distribution of North Americans, Brits, Aussies, and South Africans - and get back on the buses. We drive about half an hour to a trailhead where we eat lunch with our hiking groups and begin hiking. About 20 minutes into our hike, it appears that we've gone the wrong way, so we turn around and hike 20 minutes back out. Once we arrive back at our initial location, we take another trail which is apparently the right one. We hike about 4k, upon which we board the buses again and drive back to a camping site located a few minutes walk from where we started. Disillusionment #1. We put up tents and eat dinner, and Sara comments that the campsite resembles the Quidditch World Cup (tents, funny accents, etc). It begins to rain... and so ends day one.
Wed Oct 7: It appears that during the course of the first day of tiyul, many people have fallen ill with what can only be described as Shilshul Balagan ("shilshul" translates to diarrhea, and "balagan" to something like gong show or big mess). Nevertheless, we pack up our tents and (suprise!) get back on the buses, which drive us roughly 45 minutes to the starting location of today's hike. This portion of the hike is filled with cows, and cow pies, galore. Today we're hiking about 12k. At around 0.5k we begin the Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus singalongs. At around 3k we begin speaking in Russian accents. At 5k we see a dead wild boar. At 6k we stop for lunch, and at around 9k we give up on the singalongs and start doing superlatives to fill the time. For example, which girl on Workshop would have the biggest penis? Who's the best to bring home to parents? And who would make the most substantive meal? All hypothetically speaking, of course. When we finally finish the hike, we get back on the buses and drive to another location to camp for the night. Tonight there's a big campfire and the different groups take advantage of the opportunity to display some national pride. Tonight I also learn that when singing en masse, Australians sound like pirates.
Thurs Oct 8: The Shilshul Saga continues (yala balagan balagan balagan!) and a few more are added to their ranks. The hike today is similar to yesterday's... gorgeous scenery, Russian accents, and lots of Miley Cyrus. During the largest ascent which ends the day's hike, we break out in Miley Cyrus's "The Climb," which does wonderful things for the group's morale. Then we get back on the bus and return to last night's campsite. I love hiking 12k and arriving back in the same place. Tonight the group is finally starting to feel the effect of the last three days, and national pride is at significantly lower levels. This is a good thing because our tent is located in the British Quarter of the campsite, so we're able to avoid any turf wars or heated conversations involving the phrases "We won the war" or "All the Yankees are homos." (It's happened before.)
Fri Oct 9: On the last day of the hike we walk only 4k through a banana plantation and a few random parking lots. We have about an hour to swim in the Kinneret (which is noticeably dirtier after hosting the 120 dirtiest kids in Israel), then we eat lunch and end with another moving ceremony in which we dump our little bottle of Mediterranean water into the Kinneret. On the bus again back to the Kibbutz, and so ends Yam L'Bus L'Yam.
But it's not over! After a relaxing weekend, Simon and I, as treasurers of our kvutsah, head to Afulla (a small city about half an hour away from Kibbutz) to pick up our bank card for the account we opened the week previously. When we arrive at the bank, we take a number and wait patiently to see the agent. When our number is finally called, we go over to booth 27, expecting to easily retrieve our bank card. The only glitch was we had underestimated the power of corporate bureaucracy, and it turns out that we need our passports to receive our bank card because (as the agent so kindly put it) "How can I give card to you if I don't know that it's really you?" Touché. We both had our driver's licenses on us, but apparently that wasn't good enough. So we politely thank the man and retreat in order to regroup and strategize. You see it wasn't only a matter of not wanting to go back to kibbutz to get our passports; the problem was that our passports were currently at the American Embassy in order to get visas so we can stay in Israel past December.
We decide that, based on our observation thus far of Israeli society, you need to be aggressive in order to get things done. So we take another number and aggressively wait to see the agent again. When our number is called, we return to the agent's desk (who looks less than excited to see us again) and work through a near mathematical proof of how he can verify our identities using our driver's licenses and the documents we have brought with us from when we opened the account. Israeli Bank Man acknowledges that our argument is compelling, and sends us to another man to make our appeal. Israeli Bank Man #2 has a slightly larger desk and a tea set, so I assume he is the head of that section and has slightly more authority. We present our argument to him, and, convinced, he sends us back to Israeli Bank Man #1 to tell him that we have his approval. Israeli Bank Man #1 apologizes, reaches into his desk, and gives us the bank card. After signing about 100 pages of documents which we can neither read nor understand, we're out of there.
Moving right along to Prom, the next morning there's an announcement that Prom will be held Wednesday night, so we had best get dates as soon as possible. This is where the drama begins. Ringo asks Tali to prom that night, but she says he's not trying hard enough and she won't say yes until he does something creative. So Ringo writes a poem that goes something like "I'm bad at rhyming, but roses are blue... please go to prom with me." Tali says yes. However, Dave wanted to go to Prom with Ringo because they've been best friends since 2003, and Peacock wants to go to Prom with Dave. Meanwhile, Leya asks Joey to Prom, but Joey has already said yes to Jonah. Nevertheless in order to spare hurt feelings, Joey says yes to Leya also. The next two days continue in a similar fashion, punctuated by random Gossip Girl notes popping up on walls and mirrors and bulletin boards that read something like this: "Spotted. N eyeing S, even though M has already asked N to Prom. Will it last? XOXO, Gossip Girl."
Fortunately all the Proma (Prom + Drama... Proma) was resolved by the night of the big dance, and the most important night of my adolescent life is everything I had imagined it would be. My date, Erez, and I dress up as Wolverine and Storm (respectively). We fit in quite well with all the other couples, who are dressed as everything from Chuck and Blaire to Fred and Wilma to the Trailer Trash couple to the Emo Couple, complete with dark eye makeup and Panic-at-the-Disco hair. When we enter we take a picture in front of a Prom '09 sign, and then most of us hang out around the punch bowl until the Truth-or-Dare type festivities begin. Though my date couldn't help but pop a few balloons with his claws, and at the after-Prom party the Dutch girls took over our kitchen, the night went mostly without incidence.
Coming soon: navigating public transit in Tel Aviv with the help of many Israelis - and without the help of one very unhelpful Russian man. Have a good weekend! XOXO... oh god.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Kibbutz Life and Yom Kippur
Though I'm beginning to lose a track a little, I believe we are now at the end of our third week on kibbutz. Or in terms of our studies, we've just concluded People in Exile week (the Jewish People... obviously). But the history of the Jewish People aside, I have some commentary on kibbutz life after spending some time here.
For a little background, we're living on Kibbutz Ein Dor in northeastern Israel. There are 58 North Americans (I would say simply Americans if not for the 10 or so Canadians), 15 Brits (mainly from Manchester - pronounced MON-chest-tah by the locals - and one from London), and 6 Dutchies (that's Holland). As I mentioned previously, the North Americans are split into three groups; two of the groups are living in one large house and the third group is living in a separate smaller house. All of the European kids comprise a fourth group which lives in a third, separate house. All the houses also contain classrooms and are situated around a courtyard which makes up the guest center of the kibbutz.
First off, this place is overrun by stray cats. I don't think this is an issue specific to our kibbutz - I've been told that cats are the squirrels of Israel - but nevertheless, we especially have begun to feel the effects here. For example, one of the North American houses has adopted Maxi, a tabby which has become a little too dependent on its adoptive owners. To be fair to the cat, it's owners named it and they also occasionally feed it, resulting in the cat wandering into the house at intervals and cuddling with its occupants. But it's okay because Leya, who has a borderline inappropriate obsession with cats, says it doesn't have rabies. The Europeans have also adopted a tabby kitten and affectionately named it Puss-in-Boots (it's way funnier when the Brits say it). They even made it a little cardboard-box home and set it on their front porch to assure that it will never leave. Thank goodness.
The kibbutz is also home to a man we call Minyan Man (no one knows his real name), a proselytizing Jew who comes around on most Saturday mornings and on the recent high holidays to recruit people to participate in his religious services. With a long white beard and the traditional tzitzit, Minyan Man definitely looks the part, and on Rosh Hashanah he stood outside of our house aggressively blowing his shofar. Luckily for me, he's only interested in recruiting men to make up his minyans.
Another kibbutznik (someone who lives on the kibbutz) you should be familiar with is Chava, the director of the kibbutz guest center. She serves as the liaison between the program and the kibbutz. While I really haven't spoken to her at all, she seems friendly enough, though she sometimes shows up at our house for no apparent reason. She just rides her little scooter onto our front porch (I'll discuss the variety of modes of transportation around the kibbutz in a minute), surveys us for a minute, exchanges a few words in Hebrew with the little kibbutz boys who sometimes accompany her, and then goes.
On to available modes of transportation we've observed around the kibbutz. While it seems easy enough to walk anywhere you want to go, I've observed all forms of vehicles from bicycles to golf carts to - I swear - ATV's driving all around the kibbutz. You'll see these vehicles parked outside all the public places on the kibbutz, such as the kibbutz convenience store and especially outside of the dining hall during mealtimes. And of course there are several people driving cars around the place. Normal traffic conventions don't seem to apply here; for example, sidewalks are apparently not just for pedestrians. It's not uncommon to have to move off the sidewalk in order to let a car pass on your way to dinner.
The last thing I want to mention about kibbutz life is that groups sometimes come to share the guest center with us. For example, last week we shared the space with a group of Jewish monks on a silence retreat. By the fourth day they taped off an area of our shared courtyard and marked it "Silent Zone." And on the fifth we came back from dinner to find two shawled monks playing chess on our front porch....
As you may know, last Monday was Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday of repentance (it literally translates to Day of Atonement) and one of the holiest days of the year. On kibbutz, many of us wanted to do something to commemorate the holiday, but the kibbutz is a pretty secular community and no one was offering Yom Kippur services (except for Minyan Man, of course...) so on Sunday a group of us got together to plan out the day. We broke it down into a bunch of one hour blocks which were a mix of traditional text-based prayer and discussion. The day started with Shacharit (morning prayers), followed by Yizkor (a service to remember people who are close to you who have died). Then came a telling and discussion of the Torah portion and the Haftorah, and then we broke into chugim (which translates to something like "interest groups"). We did two hours of chugim separated by a two-hour break. The first hour of chugim was more discussion and text-based, the second being meditation and reflection based. A few people signed up to lead chugim on topics of their choice. For example, for the first hour of chugim, Elijah, who plans to go to culinary school and is Workshop's resident chef, led a discussion on how our society relates to food and why we fast on Yom Kippur. In the second hour, Erez led guided mediation and some Yom Kippur Yoga. After that we planned to go to the kibbutz's Ne'ilah service (where the shofar is blown and the Book of Life is sealed until next year) and then to dinner.
That was the day in theory. In reality, all those things still happened, but by around 4:00 p.m. everyone was so delirious and hungry that all many of us could do was sit and color and play 20 Questions. Mollie tried going to guided meditation, but she returned about five minutes later and declared that she couldn't concentrate on anything. We also found out that the kibbutz Ne'ilah service was more of a philosophical discussion than a service, so unless you knew Hebrew AND had the stamina to sit through it, there was little motivation to go. What we ended up doing was playing 20 Questions and the Awkward Story Game until 6:05, which is when Chabad said the fast ended, and then we played a recording of a shofar blowing on Youtube. Afterwords we broke the fast and went to dinner.
There were a few things I learned from this Yom Kippur. First, I realized that one of the main reasons I was connected to the religious traditions of Yom Kippur was because it connected me to home, not to the religion itself. Second, I learned that food is so available to us and we largely take it for granted. And finally, I learned that everything is a lot funnier when you're twenty-two hours into a fast and it's all you can do to not just lie face-down and cry.
On Tuesday we leave for a four-day tiyul from "Yam L'Yam," or Sea to Sea. We'll hike from the Mediterranean Sea to the Kinneret with all the habos from Australia, South Africa, England and Holland. I'll post after that. Have a good week!
For a little background, we're living on Kibbutz Ein Dor in northeastern Israel. There are 58 North Americans (I would say simply Americans if not for the 10 or so Canadians), 15 Brits (mainly from Manchester - pronounced MON-chest-tah by the locals - and one from London), and 6 Dutchies (that's Holland). As I mentioned previously, the North Americans are split into three groups; two of the groups are living in one large house and the third group is living in a separate smaller house. All of the European kids comprise a fourth group which lives in a third, separate house. All the houses also contain classrooms and are situated around a courtyard which makes up the guest center of the kibbutz.
First off, this place is overrun by stray cats. I don't think this is an issue specific to our kibbutz - I've been told that cats are the squirrels of Israel - but nevertheless, we especially have begun to feel the effects here. For example, one of the North American houses has adopted Maxi, a tabby which has become a little too dependent on its adoptive owners. To be fair to the cat, it's owners named it and they also occasionally feed it, resulting in the cat wandering into the house at intervals and cuddling with its occupants. But it's okay because Leya, who has a borderline inappropriate obsession with cats, says it doesn't have rabies. The Europeans have also adopted a tabby kitten and affectionately named it Puss-in-Boots (it's way funnier when the Brits say it). They even made it a little cardboard-box home and set it on their front porch to assure that it will never leave. Thank goodness.
The kibbutz is also home to a man we call Minyan Man (no one knows his real name), a proselytizing Jew who comes around on most Saturday mornings and on the recent high holidays to recruit people to participate in his religious services. With a long white beard and the traditional tzitzit, Minyan Man definitely looks the part, and on Rosh Hashanah he stood outside of our house aggressively blowing his shofar. Luckily for me, he's only interested in recruiting men to make up his minyans.
Another kibbutznik (someone who lives on the kibbutz) you should be familiar with is Chava, the director of the kibbutz guest center. She serves as the liaison between the program and the kibbutz. While I really haven't spoken to her at all, she seems friendly enough, though she sometimes shows up at our house for no apparent reason. She just rides her little scooter onto our front porch (I'll discuss the variety of modes of transportation around the kibbutz in a minute), surveys us for a minute, exchanges a few words in Hebrew with the little kibbutz boys who sometimes accompany her, and then goes.
On to available modes of transportation we've observed around the kibbutz. While it seems easy enough to walk anywhere you want to go, I've observed all forms of vehicles from bicycles to golf carts to - I swear - ATV's driving all around the kibbutz. You'll see these vehicles parked outside all the public places on the kibbutz, such as the kibbutz convenience store and especially outside of the dining hall during mealtimes. And of course there are several people driving cars around the place. Normal traffic conventions don't seem to apply here; for example, sidewalks are apparently not just for pedestrians. It's not uncommon to have to move off the sidewalk in order to let a car pass on your way to dinner.
The last thing I want to mention about kibbutz life is that groups sometimes come to share the guest center with us. For example, last week we shared the space with a group of Jewish monks on a silence retreat. By the fourth day they taped off an area of our shared courtyard and marked it "Silent Zone." And on the fifth we came back from dinner to find two shawled monks playing chess on our front porch....
As you may know, last Monday was Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday of repentance (it literally translates to Day of Atonement) and one of the holiest days of the year. On kibbutz, many of us wanted to do something to commemorate the holiday, but the kibbutz is a pretty secular community and no one was offering Yom Kippur services (except for Minyan Man, of course...) so on Sunday a group of us got together to plan out the day. We broke it down into a bunch of one hour blocks which were a mix of traditional text-based prayer and discussion. The day started with Shacharit (morning prayers), followed by Yizkor (a service to remember people who are close to you who have died). Then came a telling and discussion of the Torah portion and the Haftorah, and then we broke into chugim (which translates to something like "interest groups"). We did two hours of chugim separated by a two-hour break. The first hour of chugim was more discussion and text-based, the second being meditation and reflection based. A few people signed up to lead chugim on topics of their choice. For example, for the first hour of chugim, Elijah, who plans to go to culinary school and is Workshop's resident chef, led a discussion on how our society relates to food and why we fast on Yom Kippur. In the second hour, Erez led guided mediation and some Yom Kippur Yoga. After that we planned to go to the kibbutz's Ne'ilah service (where the shofar is blown and the Book of Life is sealed until next year) and then to dinner.
That was the day in theory. In reality, all those things still happened, but by around 4:00 p.m. everyone was so delirious and hungry that all many of us could do was sit and color and play 20 Questions. Mollie tried going to guided meditation, but she returned about five minutes later and declared that she couldn't concentrate on anything. We also found out that the kibbutz Ne'ilah service was more of a philosophical discussion than a service, so unless you knew Hebrew AND had the stamina to sit through it, there was little motivation to go. What we ended up doing was playing 20 Questions and the Awkward Story Game until 6:05, which is when Chabad said the fast ended, and then we played a recording of a shofar blowing on Youtube. Afterwords we broke the fast and went to dinner.
There were a few things I learned from this Yom Kippur. First, I realized that one of the main reasons I was connected to the religious traditions of Yom Kippur was because it connected me to home, not to the religion itself. Second, I learned that food is so available to us and we largely take it for granted. And finally, I learned that everything is a lot funnier when you're twenty-two hours into a fast and it's all you can do to not just lie face-down and cry.
On Tuesday we leave for a four-day tiyul from "Yam L'Yam," or Sea to Sea. We'll hike from the Mediterranean Sea to the Kinneret with all the habos from Australia, South Africa, England and Holland. I'll post after that. Have a good week!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The End of Orientation
Today is officially the first day of Fall, and with the changing of seasons has come the end (finally) of orientation. We had a week orientation to the entire program as well as another week of orientation to kibbutz, and by this point I'd say I'm pretty well oriented... almost too oriented.
After the long Rosh Hashanah weekend, our first official week of Boneh (the component of the program which we spend on kibbutz) started today with a peula about Jewish identity and unity, and then we chose our avodot (see glossary). The avodot range from taking care of the horses on the kibbutz, to working in the Dairy making cheese, to working in the kibbutz's cable factory, to folding laundry. I'll be working in the nursery with three and four-year-olds, which I'm both excited about and terrified of. While the babies won't judge my mediocre Hebrew-speaking abilities, they themselves tend to talk really fast, quietly, and mumble. But I'm hoping that this will help my Hebrew out a lot since I probably speak at the same (or lower) level as them anyways.
But before I get ahead of myself, we still have an entire weekend to discuss. This was the first free weekend on Workshop, and since it was also Rosh Hashanah, we had a three-day weekend and lots of people traveled to visit family and friends for the holiday. Only about 20 of us stayed on the kibbutz, myself included, and Tali (who's sitting next to me right now) feels it important to mention that she was only there on Thursday.
On Saturday I took a day-trip to Taveria with friends of my grandparents who live in Tel Aviv. I had never met Malli and Avram before, but Avram had contacted me about a week before and said that he had wanted to meet me. We made plans to go to Taveria (a city in northern Israel, on the edge of the Kinneret) on Saturday to meet some of their friends.
Malli and Avram came to pick me up at about 11:30 am on Saturday and we made the 20-minute trip (which is normally closer to a half hour or more, but when you drive like an Israeli...) to Taveria. We went to a small hotel in Taveria right on the edge of Kinneret, and there I met Malli and Avram's friends, as well as their friends' kids and grandkids and cousins... around 40-50 people in total. We swam in the Kinneret in the morning, had a big lunch, and then swam some more. We had tea and coffee around 4 pm, after which Malli, Avram, and I departed to head back to my kibbutz. Not only was the day extra relaxing and a nice change of pace from hanging out with a bunch of 18-year-olds, but being around only Hebrew-speakers for a change did so much for my listening comprehension. In addition, I had the opportunity over tea and coffee to listen to a few Israelis and an American-turned-Israeli debate a range of topics from Obama to 9/11 to the solution to the conflict in the Middle East. Though I've heard those kinds of debates happen before, it was so interesting to hear it happen in Israel.
The rest of the weekend was comprised mostly of playing speed-scrabble, going to the pool, and watching Glee. Except all halted on Sunday night when it began to rain (apparently that happens in Israel). I was sitting outside on the porch talking to my sister on the phone and lamenting the Steelers' loss to the Bears, when it started to drizzle. No sooner had I mentioned it to my sister than 15 people came rushing out of the house and into the rain,the which suddenly escalated to a full-on torrential downpour. Everyone retreated inside, except for those from the Pacific Northwest (i.e. just me and Leya), and we ran around in the rain for a little while.
Now we're just killing time before dinner, which, judging from the rest of the meals here on kibbutz, should be pretty delicious... Looks like an intense round of speed-scrabble is about to start. Bye guys, until next time.
After the long Rosh Hashanah weekend, our first official week of Boneh (the component of the program which we spend on kibbutz) started today with a peula about Jewish identity and unity, and then we chose our avodot (see glossary). The avodot range from taking care of the horses on the kibbutz, to working in the Dairy making cheese, to working in the kibbutz's cable factory, to folding laundry. I'll be working in the nursery with three and four-year-olds, which I'm both excited about and terrified of. While the babies won't judge my mediocre Hebrew-speaking abilities, they themselves tend to talk really fast, quietly, and mumble. But I'm hoping that this will help my Hebrew out a lot since I probably speak at the same (or lower) level as them anyways.
But before I get ahead of myself, we still have an entire weekend to discuss. This was the first free weekend on Workshop, and since it was also Rosh Hashanah, we had a three-day weekend and lots of people traveled to visit family and friends for the holiday. Only about 20 of us stayed on the kibbutz, myself included, and Tali (who's sitting next to me right now) feels it important to mention that she was only there on Thursday.
On Saturday I took a day-trip to Taveria with friends of my grandparents who live in Tel Aviv. I had never met Malli and Avram before, but Avram had contacted me about a week before and said that he had wanted to meet me. We made plans to go to Taveria (a city in northern Israel, on the edge of the Kinneret) on Saturday to meet some of their friends.
Malli and Avram came to pick me up at about 11:30 am on Saturday and we made the 20-minute trip (which is normally closer to a half hour or more, but when you drive like an Israeli...) to Taveria. We went to a small hotel in Taveria right on the edge of Kinneret, and there I met Malli and Avram's friends, as well as their friends' kids and grandkids and cousins... around 40-50 people in total. We swam in the Kinneret in the morning, had a big lunch, and then swam some more. We had tea and coffee around 4 pm, after which Malli, Avram, and I departed to head back to my kibbutz. Not only was the day extra relaxing and a nice change of pace from hanging out with a bunch of 18-year-olds, but being around only Hebrew-speakers for a change did so much for my listening comprehension. In addition, I had the opportunity over tea and coffee to listen to a few Israelis and an American-turned-Israeli debate a range of topics from Obama to 9/11 to the solution to the conflict in the Middle East. Though I've heard those kinds of debates happen before, it was so interesting to hear it happen in Israel.
The rest of the weekend was comprised mostly of playing speed-scrabble, going to the pool, and watching Glee. Except all halted on Sunday night when it began to rain (apparently that happens in Israel). I was sitting outside on the porch talking to my sister on the phone and lamenting the Steelers' loss to the Bears, when it started to drizzle. No sooner had I mentioned it to my sister than 15 people came rushing out of the house and into the rain,the which suddenly escalated to a full-on torrential downpour. Everyone retreated inside, except for those from the Pacific Northwest (i.e. just me and Leya), and we ran around in the rain for a little while.
Now we're just killing time before dinner, which, judging from the rest of the meals here on kibbutz, should be pretty delicious... Looks like an intense round of speed-scrabble is about to start. Bye guys, until next time.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Week in Review: Kvutsah, Tiyul, and Turning 18
At the time of my last post, I was still dealing with the initial shock of getting into kvutsot, but a week later I can tell you that everything is going really well. For a quick breakdown of the group, we have Ilan, who brought a fly-swatter on Workshop; Lauren, who knows the entire dance to Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies"; Max F and Tali, who usually engage in behavior which would be deemed socially inappropriate in any other setting (for example, Max tried to put Tali's entire hand in his mouth the other day during a peulah); Max W, who's favorite TV show is Glee; and Shulie, the glutard who's health problems are the subject of most jokes. There are no dominant personalities, but so far we're meshing together really well as whole.
On Tuesday, the 8th, we went on tiyul, which involved hiking 25k through the desert for three-days, sleeping on mats under the stars, and doing everything we could to not go to the bathroom. Besides one case of a girl getting water poisoning (she's still in the hospital), there were no other serious health incidents. There were, however, a few emotional breakdowns (Ilan), in addition to seeing a fox and a spider the size of my face. Luckily, in the spirit of communing with nature, Charlie stomped on it before it got too far.
Tiyul finally ended Thursday, and the sense of accomplishment that comes with hiking 25k through the desert was only slightly diminished when we found out we just went in a big loop. Then, after listening to our madrichim use a bunch of shallow metaphors to compare our hike through the desert to our life journey, we finally got on the bust to go to kibbutz. Four hour bus-ride with kids who not only hadn't showered in days but who had also just hiked through the desert... I probably don't have to tell you that I was ecstatic when we finally arrived. At that point we had a chance to shower, unpack , and meet the Brits and Dutchies (a little anti-climactic). The funny thing about the European kids is that every time they talk, I feel like they're joking and they'll switch back to their real accents at any moment.
For my birthday Friday, we all went to the discotec at the kibbutz, where I was hit on by a lesbian. Despite the lesbian, I discovered that turning 18 in Israel isn't half as climactic as turning 18 in the States for a few reasons (which roughly include voting, lottery tickets, and porn) but mostly just because nobody cards here anyways. Turning 18 on Workshop, however, is an entirely different story (for reasons that have nothing to do with voting, lottery tickets, or porn, and everything to do with waking up to 30 people in our kitchen singing Happy Birthday) and it turned out to be an amazing day.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. We swam, slept, and ate a lot of pretzels. We also didn't have internet, which was rough, but the situation is obviously fixed now. Our kvutsah also had our kupa asepha (glossary) in a record 4 hours. The asepha went really well, now we just have to see if it works.
Nothing else very noteworthy to report. We spend most of our time in peulot, doing chevrati's, and having Feelings Time. And blogging, obviously. Everyone here makes fun of my blog, but to all my loyal supporters (or whoever is reading this right now, even if you're a random who stumbled upon my blog on Google) I thank you.
On Tuesday, the 8th, we went on tiyul, which involved hiking 25k through the desert for three-days, sleeping on mats under the stars, and doing everything we could to not go to the bathroom. Besides one case of a girl getting water poisoning (she's still in the hospital), there were no other serious health incidents. There were, however, a few emotional breakdowns (Ilan), in addition to seeing a fox and a spider the size of my face. Luckily, in the spirit of communing with nature, Charlie stomped on it before it got too far.
Tiyul finally ended Thursday, and the sense of accomplishment that comes with hiking 25k through the desert was only slightly diminished when we found out we just went in a big loop. Then, after listening to our madrichim use a bunch of shallow metaphors to compare our hike through the desert to our life journey, we finally got on the bust to go to kibbutz. Four hour bus-ride with kids who not only hadn't showered in days but who had also just hiked through the desert... I probably don't have to tell you that I was ecstatic when we finally arrived. At that point we had a chance to shower, unpack , and meet the Brits and Dutchies (a little anti-climactic). The funny thing about the European kids is that every time they talk, I feel like they're joking and they'll switch back to their real accents at any moment.
For my birthday Friday, we all went to the discotec at the kibbutz, where I was hit on by a lesbian. Despite the lesbian, I discovered that turning 18 in Israel isn't half as climactic as turning 18 in the States for a few reasons (which roughly include voting, lottery tickets, and porn) but mostly just because nobody cards here anyways. Turning 18 on Workshop, however, is an entirely different story (for reasons that have nothing to do with voting, lottery tickets, or porn, and everything to do with waking up to 30 people in our kitchen singing Happy Birthday) and it turned out to be an amazing day.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. We swam, slept, and ate a lot of pretzels. We also didn't have internet, which was rough, but the situation is obviously fixed now. Our kvutsah also had our kupa asepha (glossary) in a record 4 hours. The asepha went really well, now we just have to see if it works.
Nothing else very noteworthy to report. We spend most of our time in peulot, doing chevrati's, and having Feelings Time. And blogging, obviously. Everyone here makes fun of my blog, but to all my loyal supporters (or whoever is reading this right now, even if you're a random who stumbled upon my blog on Google) I thank you.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Berlin Wall
This post was originally intended for last Sunday (the 5th?) but the internet pooped out and, you know. So just pretend this was posted a week ago:
So today was the big day; they split us into kvutsot (see glossary if you're confused). After something like 800 psyche-outs - getting into groups of about 20, doing some sort of crazy activity, and then getting back together as a group - they finally spilled the big news by putting a sticker with the name of a country written on it on each of our foreheads, and then we had to ask other people questions to guess the country, and then we had to figure out that the countries were all either in Europe, Asia, or Africa, and THEN we got into our respective continents, which turned out to be our kvutsot. Our real kvutsot. As in the 19 people we will work with, live with, and spend most of our time with for the rest of Workshop. Kind of intimidating.
Initial impressions: Nervous. Quiet. When our madrichim announced that these were our actual kvutsot and not just another psyche, there wasn't any cheering, just a lot of blank stares, which made me nervous. It was also the first group I was in that didn't give me any definite feeling, if that makes sense. I just didn't know most of the people in my kvutsah well enough to draw any sort of conclusion about how our year was going to go. Just scary. Permanent. But I'm sure it will work out.... right?
So today was the big day; they split us into kvutsot (see glossary if you're confused). After something like 800 psyche-outs - getting into groups of about 20, doing some sort of crazy activity, and then getting back together as a group - they finally spilled the big news by putting a sticker with the name of a country written on it on each of our foreheads, and then we had to ask other people questions to guess the country, and then we had to figure out that the countries were all either in Europe, Asia, or Africa, and THEN we got into our respective continents, which turned out to be our kvutsot. Our real kvutsot. As in the 19 people we will work with, live with, and spend most of our time with for the rest of Workshop. Kind of intimidating.
Initial impressions: Nervous. Quiet. When our madrichim announced that these were our actual kvutsot and not just another psyche, there wasn't any cheering, just a lot of blank stares, which made me nervous. It was also the first group I was in that didn't give me any definite feeling, if that makes sense. I just didn't know most of the people in my kvutsah well enough to draw any sort of conclusion about how our year was going to go. Just scary. Permanent. But I'm sure it will work out.... right?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Shabbat Shalom
So this post is a little belated, but as you may have imagined, I've made it to Israel. Travel went something like this:
Sept. 1
3:30 AM: Wake up and jump in the shower.
4:00 AM: Make sure my mother's awake. (Apparently three alarms are not sufficient to ensure that she'll be up at the right time.)
4:30 AM: Say goodbye to my dad and sister, load the car, and leave for the airport with my mom.
5:00 AM: Arrive at the airport and attempt to navigate the multitudes of young adults and flustered parents heading off to college.
5:30 AM: We finally manage to check in and my mom even manages to pressure the flustered agent into letting her go to the gate with me. We head to security, the lines for which are ridiculous, and my mom, using her infamous line-cooling powers, manages to pick the longest and slowest-moving line.
5:35 AM: Spotted, William Aultman (Sabrina's boyfriend) going through the lines for security, undoubtedly on his way to Penn. I call out to him but he doesn't hear, though I predictably manage to draw the attention of everyone else. Defeated, I text Sabrina telling her that I'm watching her boyfriend from afar.... William, if you're reading this, I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way.
5:40 AM: We make it through security. I check the crackberry, and I have a Facebook friend request from William Aultman. Coincidence? I think not.
5:45 AM: My mom and I buy breakfast (bagels at Rose's) and coffee (Starbucks). She also insists on buying me a banana, gum, crackers, a juice, and some sucking candies for the plane, even though she's already packed me with Goldfish, Milano's, a small bag of pecans, mentos, and a Cliff bar. She also makes me go to the bathroom no less than three times. But I know it's not her fault - she's Jewish.
6:05 AM: The plane starts boarding. Though I'm seated in Zone 3, my mother doesn't let me board until they call Zone 4. We have a teary goodbye, and then I'm off down the gangplank.
6:52 AM: Plane takes off from PDX. Direct flight to JFK seated next to a nice couple was really pretty enjoyable.
10:00 AM: I really have to pee (even though my mom made me go eight times before I left), but I'm seated next to the window, and they're both dozing. And no one wants to be that person.
10:25 AM (PST): Now I REALLY have to pee. I gently wake the couple and ask if I can trouble them to get out and go to the bathroom. Nice couple is super friendly and we all take a bathroom break together.
2:47 PM (EST): Plane touches down at JFK Airport in New York. Good flight.
3:10 PM: I get my two identical suitcases and manage to find the Habonim Dror representative who's meeting me. We meet up with Nellie who has just flown in from Seattle and head to the international terminal. We're the first two to arrive.
3:45 PM: I arrive in the internatinal terminal and am met by the sight of Hasidic Jews in long black coats, giddy Jewish teens heading off to similar (though really not so similar) trips in Israel, and myriad other kinds of diversity. I'm also met by the three other members that comprise the central office of Habonim Dror North America. I also find out that the next flight isn't coming into JFK until 6:30.
6:25 PM: After twenty-five rounds of Fooch (a card game) and eating my weight in pretzels, the Detroit kids (all three of them) finally arrive. This makes five. Only fifty-three more to go. I never want to see playing cards or pretzels ever again.
7:15 PM: The East Coast bus with the Maryland and Philadelphia kids arrive in suprisingly good condition, given that they were chaperoned by Sager, former workshop madrich and self-proclaimed "King of Kef." Lots of excited reunions as well as awkward hellos. The Galil boys have chosen to distinguish themselves by all wearing sweater vests.
7:30-9:30 PM: People continue to file in from all corners of North America, including British Columbia, Ontario, Arizona, California, Washington, Michigan, Illinois, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course Portland.
9:45 PM: We begin the long and trying screening process of getting on the plane. Before I even check my bags, I have a five-minute interview with an El Al security agent about my prior visits to Israel, my Hebrew-speaking ability, where I received my Jewish education, and whether or not I've seen the movie Ratatouille. I'm not kidding, they actually ask these kinds of questions.
10:15 PM: After everyone is checked in, we take our first group picture as Workshop 59 (fiiiifty niiiine).
10:25 PM: Heading through security, Noah is stopped by an agent to investigate a suspicious, solid, fist-sized object found in his bag. It turns out to be a rock. Noah packed a rock. After several more securiy agents are called over to make fun of Noah ("Yo Steve, check this out! This kid packed a rock!"), we continue on without incidence.
11:00 PM: We head to the gate, making stops in the Travel Mart on our way. Emily and I consider buying a three-pound bar of chocolate (it's a long flight), but we decide against it, and instead I purchase a king-sized Twix and some Tylenol.
11:15 PM: Arriving at the gate, we see that we're not the only youth group heading to Israel. It appears that Nativ is also on our plane. Those are not going to be very happy flight attendents. We spot a cute boy in a Foundation for Jewish Camping tee.
Sept. 2
12:00 AM: Boarded and seated, I manage to barter for an isle seat next to Maya and Leya. El Al provides us with pillows and really nice, fluffy fleece blankets. We decide that at the end of the flight that we will be keeping the blankets.
12:05 AM (EST): Smooth takeoff. The next nine and a half hours are somewhat of a blur, but they consisted roughly of talking, eating a pretty decent vegetarian airplane dinner (apparently when I signed up for Workshop I was a vegetarian), marveling at the real metal cutlery they give us, sleeping, beginning to brush up on my Hebrew with the very annoyed Israeli flight attendents, walking laps around the plane, trying not to disturb the rather large Hasidic Jewish population on the plane when they begin praying at 5 AM EST, blocking the isles, more talking, listening to Noah rant something concerning airspeed and temperature, apologizing to the very annoyed Israeli flight attendents, drinking tea, eating breakfast at 6 AM EST (apparently vegetarian also means lactose intolerant, because I got cereal with soy milk), drinking more tea, more sleeping, and finally waking up as we touch down at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.
4:50 PM (Israel timezone): We arrive in Tel Aviv. We get our bags, navigate customs with relative ease, meet our madrichim, get our cell phones, eat a dinner of tunafish sandwiches, meet some of the Brits in the airport, and load onto the buses.
9:00 PM: Arrive at Beit Shean Youth Hostel in northeast Israel. Having gotten something like five hours of sleep in the past 30 hours, I'm pretty certain that I'm going to die. We move into our rooms (I room with Leya, Molly, and Tali in room 104).
9:30 PM: After a quick intro from our madrichim, we have free time to hang out, unpack, and go to sleep. I say I'm going to bed.
10:00 PM: I get a second wind and insist on staying up and hanging out.
Sept. 3
I finally go to bed at 1:00 AM, thus concluding travel days.
Jet-lag wakes me up at 6:00 AM. I shower at 7:00. Now I have to explain that showers in Israel, specifically Israeli youth hostels, are more small rooms with doors than an actual shower that we're used to. Being a little rusty on Israeli showers, I manage to flood half the room. Luckily everyone decides to think that it's hilarious, and after some furious squeegeeing, we head to breakfast at 8:00.
At breakfast I rediscover how good Israeli breakfast are (tomatoes, cucumbers, cottage cheese, eggs, Israeli salad, hummus, bread rolls, chocolate spread, turkish coffee, Wasotsky tea) and how sketchy the rest of the food is. Unfortunately, no schnitzel yet.
The day is filled with excessive name-games and group-building activites. Molly decides that every time we're split up into groups, it would be funny to ask if this is going to be our kvutsah. It's funny but also has the effect of getting us all to start worrying about kvutsot.
Tonight I decide that room 104 is going to bed early. As I'm heading back to the room I see Alex's birthday party delegation run in to hang out. Looks like it's gonna be another late night.
Sept. 4
This morning I wake up and shower like a pro. The shower is barely wet. Today, after a short peula on the types of people that live in Israeli society, we head to Tiberias for a scavenger hunt.
It's at least 90 degrees in Tiberias, and being sleep-deprived, semi-dehydrated, and trying to adjust to the water, I'm, again, pretty sure that I'm going to die. I also end up in Noah and Molly's group, who were determined to win. We win, predictably. When Molly and Noah decide to do something, they get it done. The prize is that we get to plan Kabbalat Shabbat this evening. Wonderful.
For lunch, we each get money to get food in tiberias, and we head to a shwarma stand. Molly barters with the schwarma man and we all sit to down to schwarma, falafel, and, finally, schnitzel.
As soon as we get back to the hostel we jump in the pool, and for the first time since getting to Israel, I'm cold. We get out and plan Kabbalat Shabbat on the fly, deciding that the program will consist of everyone saying their middle names and then singing some songs.
Dinner. Rikud. Hanging out. Blogging. Now it's 3:3O AM and it's really time to go to sleep. Goodnight guys! I'll be back soon when there's something interesting to tell.
Sept. 1
3:30 AM: Wake up and jump in the shower.
4:00 AM: Make sure my mother's awake. (Apparently three alarms are not sufficient to ensure that she'll be up at the right time.)
4:30 AM: Say goodbye to my dad and sister, load the car, and leave for the airport with my mom.
5:00 AM: Arrive at the airport and attempt to navigate the multitudes of young adults and flustered parents heading off to college.
5:30 AM: We finally manage to check in and my mom even manages to pressure the flustered agent into letting her go to the gate with me. We head to security, the lines for which are ridiculous, and my mom, using her infamous line-cooling powers, manages to pick the longest and slowest-moving line.
5:35 AM: Spotted, William Aultman (Sabrina's boyfriend) going through the lines for security, undoubtedly on his way to Penn. I call out to him but he doesn't hear, though I predictably manage to draw the attention of everyone else. Defeated, I text Sabrina telling her that I'm watching her boyfriend from afar.... William, if you're reading this, I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way.
5:40 AM: We make it through security. I check the crackberry, and I have a Facebook friend request from William Aultman. Coincidence? I think not.
5:45 AM: My mom and I buy breakfast (bagels at Rose's) and coffee (Starbucks). She also insists on buying me a banana, gum, crackers, a juice, and some sucking candies for the plane, even though she's already packed me with Goldfish, Milano's, a small bag of pecans, mentos, and a Cliff bar. She also makes me go to the bathroom no less than three times. But I know it's not her fault - she's Jewish.
6:05 AM: The plane starts boarding. Though I'm seated in Zone 3, my mother doesn't let me board until they call Zone 4. We have a teary goodbye, and then I'm off down the gangplank.
6:52 AM: Plane takes off from PDX. Direct flight to JFK seated next to a nice couple was really pretty enjoyable.
10:00 AM: I really have to pee (even though my mom made me go eight times before I left), but I'm seated next to the window, and they're both dozing. And no one wants to be that person.
10:25 AM (PST): Now I REALLY have to pee. I gently wake the couple and ask if I can trouble them to get out and go to the bathroom. Nice couple is super friendly and we all take a bathroom break together.
2:47 PM (EST): Plane touches down at JFK Airport in New York. Good flight.
3:10 PM: I get my two identical suitcases and manage to find the Habonim Dror representative who's meeting me. We meet up with Nellie who has just flown in from Seattle and head to the international terminal. We're the first two to arrive.
3:45 PM: I arrive in the internatinal terminal and am met by the sight of Hasidic Jews in long black coats, giddy Jewish teens heading off to similar (though really not so similar) trips in Israel, and myriad other kinds of diversity. I'm also met by the three other members that comprise the central office of Habonim Dror North America. I also find out that the next flight isn't coming into JFK until 6:30.
6:25 PM: After twenty-five rounds of Fooch (a card game) and eating my weight in pretzels, the Detroit kids (all three of them) finally arrive. This makes five. Only fifty-three more to go. I never want to see playing cards or pretzels ever again.
7:15 PM: The East Coast bus with the Maryland and Philadelphia kids arrive in suprisingly good condition, given that they were chaperoned by Sager, former workshop madrich and self-proclaimed "King of Kef." Lots of excited reunions as well as awkward hellos. The Galil boys have chosen to distinguish themselves by all wearing sweater vests.
7:30-9:30 PM: People continue to file in from all corners of North America, including British Columbia, Ontario, Arizona, California, Washington, Michigan, Illinois, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course Portland.
9:45 PM: We begin the long and trying screening process of getting on the plane. Before I even check my bags, I have a five-minute interview with an El Al security agent about my prior visits to Israel, my Hebrew-speaking ability, where I received my Jewish education, and whether or not I've seen the movie Ratatouille. I'm not kidding, they actually ask these kinds of questions.
10:15 PM: After everyone is checked in, we take our first group picture as Workshop 59 (fiiiifty niiiine).
10:25 PM: Heading through security, Noah is stopped by an agent to investigate a suspicious, solid, fist-sized object found in his bag. It turns out to be a rock. Noah packed a rock. After several more securiy agents are called over to make fun of Noah ("Yo Steve, check this out! This kid packed a rock!"), we continue on without incidence.
11:00 PM: We head to the gate, making stops in the Travel Mart on our way. Emily and I consider buying a three-pound bar of chocolate (it's a long flight), but we decide against it, and instead I purchase a king-sized Twix and some Tylenol.
11:15 PM: Arriving at the gate, we see that we're not the only youth group heading to Israel. It appears that Nativ is also on our plane. Those are not going to be very happy flight attendents. We spot a cute boy in a Foundation for Jewish Camping tee.
Sept. 2
12:00 AM: Boarded and seated, I manage to barter for an isle seat next to Maya and Leya. El Al provides us with pillows and really nice, fluffy fleece blankets. We decide that at the end of the flight that we will be keeping the blankets.
12:05 AM (EST): Smooth takeoff. The next nine and a half hours are somewhat of a blur, but they consisted roughly of talking, eating a pretty decent vegetarian airplane dinner (apparently when I signed up for Workshop I was a vegetarian), marveling at the real metal cutlery they give us, sleeping, beginning to brush up on my Hebrew with the very annoyed Israeli flight attendents, walking laps around the plane, trying not to disturb the rather large Hasidic Jewish population on the plane when they begin praying at 5 AM EST, blocking the isles, more talking, listening to Noah rant something concerning airspeed and temperature, apologizing to the very annoyed Israeli flight attendents, drinking tea, eating breakfast at 6 AM EST (apparently vegetarian also means lactose intolerant, because I got cereal with soy milk), drinking more tea, more sleeping, and finally waking up as we touch down at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.
4:50 PM (Israel timezone): We arrive in Tel Aviv. We get our bags, navigate customs with relative ease, meet our madrichim, get our cell phones, eat a dinner of tunafish sandwiches, meet some of the Brits in the airport, and load onto the buses.
9:00 PM: Arrive at Beit Shean Youth Hostel in northeast Israel. Having gotten something like five hours of sleep in the past 30 hours, I'm pretty certain that I'm going to die. We move into our rooms (I room with Leya, Molly, and Tali in room 104).
9:30 PM: After a quick intro from our madrichim, we have free time to hang out, unpack, and go to sleep. I say I'm going to bed.
10:00 PM: I get a second wind and insist on staying up and hanging out.
Sept. 3
I finally go to bed at 1:00 AM, thus concluding travel days.
Jet-lag wakes me up at 6:00 AM. I shower at 7:00. Now I have to explain that showers in Israel, specifically Israeli youth hostels, are more small rooms with doors than an actual shower that we're used to. Being a little rusty on Israeli showers, I manage to flood half the room. Luckily everyone decides to think that it's hilarious, and after some furious squeegeeing, we head to breakfast at 8:00.
At breakfast I rediscover how good Israeli breakfast are (tomatoes, cucumbers, cottage cheese, eggs, Israeli salad, hummus, bread rolls, chocolate spread, turkish coffee, Wasotsky tea) and how sketchy the rest of the food is. Unfortunately, no schnitzel yet.
The day is filled with excessive name-games and group-building activites. Molly decides that every time we're split up into groups, it would be funny to ask if this is going to be our kvutsah. It's funny but also has the effect of getting us all to start worrying about kvutsot.
Tonight I decide that room 104 is going to bed early. As I'm heading back to the room I see Alex's birthday party delegation run in to hang out. Looks like it's gonna be another late night.
Sept. 4
This morning I wake up and shower like a pro. The shower is barely wet. Today, after a short peula on the types of people that live in Israeli society, we head to Tiberias for a scavenger hunt.
It's at least 90 degrees in Tiberias, and being sleep-deprived, semi-dehydrated, and trying to adjust to the water, I'm, again, pretty sure that I'm going to die. I also end up in Noah and Molly's group, who were determined to win. We win, predictably. When Molly and Noah decide to do something, they get it done. The prize is that we get to plan Kabbalat Shabbat this evening. Wonderful.
For lunch, we each get money to get food in tiberias, and we head to a shwarma stand. Molly barters with the schwarma man and we all sit to down to schwarma, falafel, and, finally, schnitzel.
As soon as we get back to the hostel we jump in the pool, and for the first time since getting to Israel, I'm cold. We get out and plan Kabbalat Shabbat on the fly, deciding that the program will consist of everyone saying their middle names and then singing some songs.
Dinner. Rikud. Hanging out. Blogging. Now it's 3:3O AM and it's really time to go to sleep. Goodnight guys! I'll be back soon when there's something interesting to tell.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Birth?
It's 1:22 AM on Tuesday night... er Monday morning... watching Andrew pack and learning how to blog. Wow, this is emo. I am talking to myself. Anyhow, I wanted to call my blog "Nine Months" - as in nine months in Israel - but Google told me that the url ninemonths.blogspot.com was already taken. When I went to investigate why, I discovered that the blog entitled "Nine Months" is about some woman's pregnancy. (I really shouldn't have been all that surprised.) So before there's any confusion, I just want to make it clear that I am not pregnant, nor do I intend to become pregnant. The nine months that this blog is about are the nine months I'm about to spend in Israel, participating in a program called Workshop. The program is part volunteering, part Israeli immersion, and part communal living... or socialism, if you will. For a little more information on the program, let me refer you to the program's website: http://www.habonimdror.org/programs/workshop.html
After reading that little program description (if you actually went to the site, that is), you may be wondering why I'm choosing to go live like a hippie for nine months in Israel. The answer is a little complicated, and will probably change as I learn more about what I'm actually doing, living communally and volunteering with both Israelis and Palestinians in one of the most heated conflicts in the world. In a nutshell, I believe in the aims of the Habonim Dror movement, I support Israel (though I'm not entirely sure why), and I can't think of any convincing reasons why not to go.
After reading that little program description (if you actually went to the site, that is), you may be wondering why I'm choosing to go live like a hippie for nine months in Israel. The answer is a little complicated, and will probably change as I learn more about what I'm actually doing, living communally and volunteering with both Israelis and Palestinians in one of the most heated conflicts in the world. In a nutshell, I believe in the aims of the Habonim Dror movement, I support Israel (though I'm not entirely sure why), and I can't think of any convincing reasons why not to go.
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