Christmas Eve in Costa Rica, and I have the esteemed privilege of being in front of a computer. No complaints, though, seriously. I have, admittedly, been somewhat overwhelmed by my need to work out for Outward Bound and get essays done for application, but on the whole this trip has been incredible.
We have done so much already, that it's difficult to remember. We arrived to our hotel outside the of San Jose at night. The enxt morning, I woke up early and went running. As I came down the stairs from my room, wild flowers were blooming in the lobby and I heard classical music coming from the breakfast room. This was no youth hostel! Outside, I ran along the road as it curved through the mountain tops. I ran past dogs, and countless varieties of flowers. Birds chirped and even at 7 AM, the sun was hot.
I can not remember a time when my family has gotten along so well together, and for such an extended period... I feel like the weakest link in terms of grumpiness. Dad's overcome feeling sick and Zach has faces vegetarian challenges at every meal. He has overcome fear of heights on ziplines and tree climbs, and meanwhile I've been whiner - cold on the raft trip,
Monday, December 25, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
During this last week in paradise, I want to share some words from my students.
Today, as I do once a week, I hiked with the children to an overlook. We do a blindfolded trust walk with the group and lead them to an outlook near the edge of a cliff. (not as dangerous as it sounds!) Then, they all remove their headbands in unison and scream the first word that comes to their mind.
After allowing the children a few minutes to take in the view, I sat down with them to discuss some ecology and to Judaism. (specifically the shema prayer which means "Hear O Israel the L-rd Our G-d, the L-rd is One." Afterward, I had the children sit and listen for several minutes. They sat by themselves and could draw or write about their observations. Many of the children drew pictures or listed the sounds they heard. Others wrote whole poems. I would like to share two of their writings:
Today, as I do once a week, I hiked with the children to an overlook. We do a blindfolded trust walk with the group and lead them to an outlook near the edge of a cliff. (not as dangerous as it sounds!) Then, they all remove their headbands in unison and scream the first word that comes to their mind.
After allowing the children a few minutes to take in the view, I sat down with them to discuss some ecology and to Judaism. (specifically the shema prayer which means "Hear O Israel the L-rd Our G-d, the L-rd is One." Afterward, I had the children sit and listen for several minutes. They sat by themselves and could draw or write about their observations. Many of the children drew pictures or listed the sounds they heard. Others wrote whole poems. I would like to share two of their writings:
sh...mmmm...ahhhh
I am on the top of the world.
I block out the sounds of the man made vehicles,
and I listen to the nature.
I take a breath and let the sweet refreshing sent into my soul.
I hear birds chirping.
They are joyful, as am I.
*****
The mysterious ocean and ancient life
To the beautiful butterflies
tree and plants
are growing.
Plants are being born
and People are dieing.
Animals are looking for
food and growing up.
The sky will be there always.
From the peace and serenity on a mountain top
To the hustle and bustle of the city.
The world will always be here.
That is the greatest thing.
For it is beautiful, yet mysterious but,
all these holy happenings will be there.
The Earth.
It is the most holy thing.
At Times, I feel like 4 days is a enough to learn so much about the children. We get to know their personalities, their fears, their curiousities, their dispositions and even their eating habits. And yet, reading their poetry, I am reminded of how much more they have to share - how deep their hearts and minds are.
I believe so strongly in the work we are doing here. I will miss this place... I feel as I haven't felt since France - that I have found a place that is home, and that I wish were staying that way.
I am on the top of the world.
I block out the sounds of the man made vehicles,
and I listen to the nature.
I take a breath and let the sweet refreshing sent into my soul.
I hear birds chirping.
They are joyful, as am I.
*****
The mysterious ocean and ancient life
To the beautiful butterflies
tree and plants
are growing.
Plants are being born
and People are dieing.
Animals are looking for
food and growing up.
The sky will be there always.
From the peace and serenity on a mountain top
To the hustle and bustle of the city.
The world will always be here.
That is the greatest thing.
For it is beautiful, yet mysterious but,
all these holy happenings will be there.
The Earth.
It is the most holy thing.
At Times, I feel like 4 days is a enough to learn so much about the children. We get to know their personalities, their fears, their curiousities, their dispositions and even their eating habits. And yet, reading their poetry, I am reminded of how much more they have to share - how deep their hearts and minds are.
I believe so strongly in the work we are doing here. I will miss this place... I feel as I haven't felt since France - that I have found a place that is home, and that I wish were staying that way.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Country Living…
November 14, 2006
Goal one: The annual 5K Cannonball road race in
We awoke early to a quiet Brown House on Shabbat morning. Lilly Rakia was up with her son, playing in the kitchen and we talked briefly with them before heading out for the Village. The walk was nice, but really cold. In town, we checked in at my hang out – Toymakers, and they offered to have my favorite waffles ready as soon as I returned. Morale up, but still freezing, I set out for the course.
About 60 people were there. A small registration table and finish line were set up outside of town hall, but there were only a handful of spectators. The barbecue at the finish line smelled of hamburgers, urging us to hurry up and finish the race quickly. . . . grilled incentives! We lined up, braced ourselves for the boom of the cannon, and began running.
The first mile was awful. I was freezing and couldn’t feel my hands, it was uphill and the people seemed to be streaming behind me - young and old. Once I warmed up however (with the help of some gloves from fellow a runner) I started enjoying myself more. The scenery was beautiful, and the whole second mile brought us along a flat road with a view to the north and west of the Berkshires. I kept pace with a group of 4 women and just kept on running. BY mile 3, I felt I could have done 2 more mile, albeit slowly, and when I turned into town, Eli had run back to meet me and cheer me on. I gave the last ¼ mile everything I had and was welcomed into town by a group of 8 or so cheering hippies. Who could they be? (On a side note, it’s always hilarious to venture into civilizations with fellow Tevaniks – we seem to make quite the spectacle sporting costumes or simply a mix of outdoor gear and Goodwill vestements.) I smiled huge when a fellow runner congratulated me on the size of our cheering section and was truly touched by how many people had come out for the cold Shabbat walk to town.
It would seem to end there, but someone quickly learned that we were up for awards. Yes, it’s true, in spite of my nearly 10 minute splits, I had earned a place in the awards ceremony. It seems that the two red-headed Jews from Teva comprised the entire 20-29 age group in the race. We won some rockin’ t-shirts and I even received a beautiful milkweed flower from my roommie, Miriam.
A day could not get much better, could it?
But it did! Back at Toymakers, I finally got a grand tour of the old book conservatory in the Village. It’s an amazing old bilding built as a church that would be ideal for a haunted house. I was hoping to uncover some secret passages, but found only Tiffany stained-glass window, an old organ, and a lot of dust.
On the way back to town, we passed a crew of fire engines set up alongside a mowed field. Here, too, was a smoking grill and refreshment stand. We had seen some people setting the field up on the way into town, but only found out later what the hoopla. November 4th was no one-event day in
So how does a cow chip contest work? The rules are simple: A cow is let loose in the field. The square upon which her first poop lands is the winner, with the surrounding squares designated as places 1 through 9
Intrigued, excited and ready to seize a moment in our country lives, JD, Eli and I stuck around to join in the festivities. Before us was a plot of grass marked with 1200 squares – a giant grid. A state official was there to ensure that all cow-chip rules were followed and a sign explained all the finer details of judging the cow’s “performance.” The organizers were equipped with a scale – in case they needed to compare the size of cow chips.
Then we met the cow. She was huge, and I stared into her eye as it peaked our from behind the slats in the truck. She had no concept of her task and as the day wore on, she proved quite opposed to it. She was lead to the field. (In picking a number out of a hat, I had been awarded the opportunity to choose the official starting gate as the eastern side of the field!) At one point, we asked how long it would take – “Could be minutes, could be hours.”
Well, it seems hours were in the cards – we waited and waited for the poor old heifer to poop, but she resisted, and not without providing entertainment and exercise for her caretakers. She broke through the orange fencing several times, once making past the fire engines and into the streets. As the farmers reinforced one side of the fence, she went hopping toward the other, headed for the woods. “Just poop, poor thing, and you’ll be done!” I thought. It seemed cruel, or just invasive. L-rd knows I could not do it in that big of a crowd.
After an hour or so, we gave up, disappointed to have missed the big moment, but exhilarated from our day in town. We were the only Cow Chip rookies there – it is common fundraiser in these parts. And filled with the smell of autumn and the brisk breath in our lungs, we headed back to Freedman for a song session and havdalah.
After a quick dinner of amazing pizza in Great Barrington, we joined the Adamah and Dorot reunions in the dining hall for some Contra dancing. This was my second time in 2 weeks and I loved it. We were a lively crew, even for the usually vibrant sport, and the caller had a blast making subtle jokes about our clothing, sexuality and religion. Instead of saying male or female, he would refer to the “taller of the two dancers” and would invite us to chose partners of the gender of our choice.
The night went very late. We sang and played music until very early. There was the usual drum, guitar, mandolin circle and even an accordion. I did not last all night, but long enough to dance awhile and warm up.
An interesting story: I found myself talking with a Dorot alumna in the lounge and we both felt that we had met before. In fact, we both know Noam, but he was sure that he had not been the connector. We briefly listed our life’s paths, but could not find a link. Until suddenly, I had a thought. “Where did you go last December for vacation?” I asked her.
In addition, boom. I had met Melissa and her husband on the roof of a church in
Thus, I am ever more convinced that Freedman, second only to
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Hot Buttered Watermelon
Its Sunday night, day two of Sukkot and by the time we’re ready to head out for the conctert weve got a decent Teva contingency of 9 psyched and ready to head to the Hot Buttered Rum Concert in Woodstock New York. Estimates tell us it will take anywhere from 1 – 2 plus hours to get there; within 20 minutes, we have made a wrong turn on the winding country two lane roads and I already have doubts…
Never mind. We arrive before the bands on stage. As we follow the bends of roads names Zena, and Spackenkill, we wonder how the smoked out hippies ever found their way to Woodstock back in ’69. (without MapQUest, no less)
After a scarfed down bite of Chinese food, (When we asked the woman selling merchandise how much time we had, she responded “enough time to burn one, but I didn’t say that.” )
The venue is a refurbished barn. The bar and lounge out front are pretty swanky, in a way that a designger clearly felt would be “rustic.” But the band is recording the show and there is plenty of room to dance. The ceiling was lined with crepe paper lantern of various sizes and colors. We can get as close as we want to the stage – the room doesn’t feel empty, but the crowd was pretty small. Blue grass fills the air, and I take turns twirling with JD, Tali and Miriam. The songs aren’t ones we know, but they’re all good. We hope the second half will be more upbeat so we can dance even more.
I sit at the bar with Risa and enjoy a gin and tonic. Beside me is the lead singer, guitar player and I am tempted to tell him about the watermelon that Miriam had the brilliant idea of bringing along. (bait, she hopes, to lure the band to Freedman) Hey, if it worked for Baby with Patrick Swayze, I figure my chances can’t be worse. I approach the singer and tell him, frankly, that I carried a watermelon. I’m not sure if he got the reference, but another person standing by us did, so the conversation started naturally.
Suddenly, I found myself excitedly telling him about TEva, about Adamah and about the Jewish holiday of sukkot. How fired up was I? I found myself telling him in all seriousness, “You have to come dwell in our booth! It’s so cool – no need to play for us. We have lots of musicians, you can just sit back and take the night off. And we have veggie oil for your bus.” All pretty much true… and he seems into it. “Outdoor educators are our specialty,” he tells me. And then he asks me to present him with the watermelon on stage. He tells me to wait for the awkward pause and then to go ahead and bring out the watermelon. As far as visiting is concerned, he says that if we email him, they would definitely be interested in coming to Freedman the next time they’re out east.
I run to the car, and return, produce in hand, stopping at the ticket window to inscribe it with a request for my favorite song. Back in the barn, we dance a few tunes with the melon until the combination of peer pressure and a significant pause between songs convinces me it’s time to present my offering. I roll the melon onto stage and it lands perfectly at the singer’s feet. In one movement, he picks up the still-rolling melonandsends a shout out to our farm. Then, he says the melon will be enjoying the rest of the show from center stage. (We are all invited to partake after the show!)
At one point during the show, I yell out Adamah and another one of the band members comes out to pat the melon. And then, as the show is ending, I feel tingles when they tell us that the encore will be acoustic in the audience. They send off the watermelon to be cut, and then serenade the audience, now gathered, sitting at their feet. They play my request, in spite of the fact that I’d done a shoddy job writing on the rind. I am elated, and enjoy the sweetness of this particular fruit, not so much in the one bite that I get, but in the looks of the faces of the audience and the band as they enjoy the flesh, seeds dropping, juice dribbling, and beside me, four farmers proudly, modesty glowing in the simple reward of patience and hard hard work.
Its Sunday night, day two of Sukkot and by the time we’re ready to head out for the conctert weve got a decent Teva contingency of 9 psyched and ready to head to the Hot Buttered Rum Concert in Woodstock New York. Estimates tell us it will take anywhere from 1 – 2 plus hours to get there; within 20 minutes, we have made a wrong turn on the winding country two lane roads and I already have doubts…
Never mind. We arrive before the bands on stage. As we follow the bends of roads names Zena, and Spackenkill, we wonder how the smoked out hippies ever found their way to Woodstock back in ’69. (without MapQUest, no less)
After a scarfed down bite of Chinese food, (When we asked the woman selling merchandise how much time we had, she responded “enough time to burn one, but I didn’t say that.” )
The venue is a refurbished barn. The bar and lounge out front are pretty swanky, in a way that a designger clearly felt would be “rustic.” But the band is recording the show and there is plenty of room to dance. The ceiling was lined with crepe paper lantern of various sizes and colors. We can get as close as we want to the stage – the room doesn’t feel empty, but the crowd was pretty small. Blue grass fills the air, and I take turns twirling with JD, Tali and Miriam. The songs aren’t ones we know, but they’re all good. We hope the second half will be more upbeat so we can dance even more.
I sit at the bar with Risa and enjoy a gin and tonic. Beside me is the lead singer, guitar player and I am tempted to tell him about the watermelon that Miriam had the brilliant idea of bringing along. (bait, she hopes, to lure the band to Freedman) Hey, if it worked for Baby with Patrick Swayze, I figure my chances can’t be worse. I approach the singer and tell him, frankly, that I carried a watermelon. I’m not sure if he got the reference, but another person standing by us did, so the conversation started naturally.
Suddenly, I found myself excitedly telling him about TEva, about Adamah and about the Jewish holiday of sukkot. How fired up was I? I found myself telling him in all seriousness, “You have to come dwell in our booth! It’s so cool – no need to play for us. We have lots of musicians, you can just sit back and take the night off. And we have veggie oil for your bus.” All pretty much true… and he seems into it. “Outdoor educators are our specialty,” he tells me. And then he asks me to present him with the watermelon on stage. He tells me to wait for the awkward pause and then to go ahead and bring out the watermelon. As far as visiting is concerned, he says that if we email him, they would definitely be interested in coming to Freedman the next time they’re out east.
I run to the car, and return, produce in hand, stopping at the ticket window to inscribe it with a request for my favorite song. Back in the barn, we dance a few tunes with the melon until the combination of peer pressure and a significant pause between songs convinces me it’s time to present my offering. I roll the melon onto stage and it lands perfectly at the singer’s feet. In one movement, he picks up the still-rolling melonandsends a shout out to our farm. Then, he says the melon will be enjoying the rest of the show from center stage. (We are all invited to partake after the show!)
At one point during the show, I yell out Adamah and another one of the band members comes out to pat the melon. And then, as the show is ending, I feel tingles when they tell us that the encore will be acoustic in the audience. They send off the watermelon to be cut, and then serenade the audience, now gathered, sitting at their feet. They play my request, in spite of the fact that I’d done a shoddy job writing on the rind. I am elated, and enjoy the sweetness of this particular fruit, not so much in the one bite that I get, but in the looks of the faces of the audience and the band as they enjoy the flesh, seeds dropping, juice dribbling, and beside me, four farmers proudly, modesty glowing in the simple reward of patience and hard hard work.
Paradise, Eden, or pretty damn close...
I remember coming here for Shabbat last year and falling in love - with the warmth, the singing, the way people here really took the time to appreciate each other and nature. And then I remember thinking - it's not real. Isabella Freedman could only be a dream world, an escape from reality for lost 20-somethings seeking to avoid society a little bit longer. I applied anyway, realizing that it was real, I had seen it, and that there was no reason life couldn't be that beautiful.
Accepted in July, I wondered how Teva could ever meet my expectations. Not every day is Shabbat, and life there couldn't possibly be all singing and deep thoughts and in prompto study sessions. Wrong again.
2 months in, I feel I have the authority to say: yes, this is real, and yes, we take time daily to sing, dance, listen, appreciate and notice.
This evening, I drove back from Great Barrington, Massachusetts with three friends. The drive was spectacular and we were mezmorized by the sunset that canopied us - a glance in any direction offered a unique and breathtaking smorgasboard of color, light and clouds, meeting the gentle peaks of the mountains along the horizon - all accentuated by the deep automn hues of a waning foliage season. Reaching a rise in the road, we jumped out of the car and began to sing. (Not, I must point out, an activity I could see myself joining in on in Stamford or NYC.) I was filled with gratitude that my friends were as excited as I was - we shared a moment of awe and appreciation for this quotidien act of nature - so normal , so predictable and yet fleeting and unique to today. As we drove into Isabella Freedman, we found that the rest of our community had been basking in that very same moment. Several other Tevaniks were outside by the lake and two of the farmers were walking up the hill to enjoy the site from an optimum position. A religious man and his wife, in town to visit friends, stood outside in silent wonder. TOnight, I spoke with another farmer who had pulled his car over to watch the event, just a few miles away.
Where else can it be that a group of people are so completely in tune with the earth, so eager and willing to take pause, to listen, to watch, to wonder - to try not to let any tiny miracle of nature slip b them unnoticed? The voice in my heart says - only in jerusalem.
What else makes this community so special? This morning, we were taught by a specialist in herbal medicinals. She taught us how to make medicine from the local plants and gave us acitvity ideas with the children. It was rpetty surreal to be talking with this adorable elderly woman about mushrooms, Indian hemp and our stomach aches. She knew it all - and told us of the feasts she has made from natural foods - chicken made from hen of the woods mushrooms and meatloaf comprised of acorn meat.
Last night, I somewhat reluctantly attended a woman's group in honor of the new moon. I was skeptical - thinking it was a hokey new age cry fest where we would complain about men or makeup. It turned out to be very beautiful, however, and I liked getting to know some of the women I live with even better. Since we spend most of our days outdoors, the moon (and its light) has a significant impact on our lives. Sad as we are feeling about the end of the Jewish holiday seasion (a sentiment I have never felt before), I've enjoyed realizing how much Judaism always find something to appreciate and dance about - new moons, full moons, friday nights... the constant celebrating is new to me, but I can't complain. Why not enjoy life this much?
It is real.
Tomorrow, my day will be filled with hikes, bike rides, and more tempting possibilities than time. Living with likeminded people, there is always something cool to do. I am still torn, however, when i think about the growth and perspective that can only be gained from living in really ddiverse settings. I miss the students at Waterside, and I miss the community. I miss learning about whole other cultures and religions, and being able to share mine as something new, special and unknown. Here, it is a given, it is simple, it is unquestioned. I don't take that for granted at all, but I wonder if this is a bubble that I can be content in long term. (I wonder in a very calm, go with the flow way, of course... I wouldn't dream of stressing about this sort of life decision!)
The jewish holidays were amazing - on sukkot, we had about 70 peole here at Brown house and sang and danced around a campfire and on stage. A few of us decided at midnight to go on a hike - (where else can I con 4 people into hiking a mile and a half and sleeping on a cold ledge at midnight?!!!) Last week, I successfully completed the largest corn maze in the east - and we did it without a flashlight in the middle of the night! Simchat Torah, a celebration for completing the reading of the Old Testament - took place (for me) in NYC. I met up with a friend from Israel for dinner and got to meet some very interesting and inspiring rabbinical students. Then, we danced until all hours, and when most people had left BJ on the upper west side, the crowd that remained was mostly people from up here. We kept the party going even in NYC - spreading our light and spirit 100 miles from our homebase. Later, we were invited to a rooftop party. 30 or more Jews sat on the roof eating lasagna and fondu, singing, dancing and smoking from a nargila - with the NYC skyline in place of our usual backdrop of trees, lake and peaks.
The future? It's weird to even think of. I am so happily absorbed in daily life here that planning beyond lunch tomorrow seems unnecessary. I have found out about an outward bound class for educators that I would really like to do before heading back to Israel. We'll see. There's Hazon and Livnot as well, and my friend Eli wants me to teach outdoor education to children with serious drug and alcohol problems in Utah. I am blessed with choices, and none of them can be wrong...
I remember coming here for Shabbat last year and falling in love - with the warmth, the singing, the way people here really took the time to appreciate each other and nature. And then I remember thinking - it's not real. Isabella Freedman could only be a dream world, an escape from reality for lost 20-somethings seeking to avoid society a little bit longer. I applied anyway, realizing that it was real, I had seen it, and that there was no reason life couldn't be that beautiful.
Accepted in July, I wondered how Teva could ever meet my expectations. Not every day is Shabbat, and life there couldn't possibly be all singing and deep thoughts and in prompto study sessions. Wrong again.
2 months in, I feel I have the authority to say: yes, this is real, and yes, we take time daily to sing, dance, listen, appreciate and notice.
This evening, I drove back from Great Barrington, Massachusetts with three friends. The drive was spectacular and we were mezmorized by the sunset that canopied us - a glance in any direction offered a unique and breathtaking smorgasboard of color, light and clouds, meeting the gentle peaks of the mountains along the horizon - all accentuated by the deep automn hues of a waning foliage season. Reaching a rise in the road, we jumped out of the car and began to sing. (Not, I must point out, an activity I could see myself joining in on in Stamford or NYC.) I was filled with gratitude that my friends were as excited as I was - we shared a moment of awe and appreciation for this quotidien act of nature - so normal , so predictable and yet fleeting and unique to today. As we drove into Isabella Freedman, we found that the rest of our community had been basking in that very same moment. Several other Tevaniks were outside by the lake and two of the farmers were walking up the hill to enjoy the site from an optimum position. A religious man and his wife, in town to visit friends, stood outside in silent wonder. TOnight, I spoke with another farmer who had pulled his car over to watch the event, just a few miles away.
Where else can it be that a group of people are so completely in tune with the earth, so eager and willing to take pause, to listen, to watch, to wonder - to try not to let any tiny miracle of nature slip b them unnoticed? The voice in my heart says - only in jerusalem.
What else makes this community so special? This morning, we were taught by a specialist in herbal medicinals. She taught us how to make medicine from the local plants and gave us acitvity ideas with the children. It was rpetty surreal to be talking with this adorable elderly woman about mushrooms, Indian hemp and our stomach aches. She knew it all - and told us of the feasts she has made from natural foods - chicken made from hen of the woods mushrooms and meatloaf comprised of acorn meat.
Last night, I somewhat reluctantly attended a woman's group in honor of the new moon. I was skeptical - thinking it was a hokey new age cry fest where we would complain about men or makeup. It turned out to be very beautiful, however, and I liked getting to know some of the women I live with even better. Since we spend most of our days outdoors, the moon (and its light) has a significant impact on our lives. Sad as we are feeling about the end of the Jewish holiday seasion (a sentiment I have never felt before), I've enjoyed realizing how much Judaism always find something to appreciate and dance about - new moons, full moons, friday nights... the constant celebrating is new to me, but I can't complain. Why not enjoy life this much?
It is real.
Tomorrow, my day will be filled with hikes, bike rides, and more tempting possibilities than time. Living with likeminded people, there is always something cool to do. I am still torn, however, when i think about the growth and perspective that can only be gained from living in really ddiverse settings. I miss the students at Waterside, and I miss the community. I miss learning about whole other cultures and religions, and being able to share mine as something new, special and unknown. Here, it is a given, it is simple, it is unquestioned. I don't take that for granted at all, but I wonder if this is a bubble that I can be content in long term. (I wonder in a very calm, go with the flow way, of course... I wouldn't dream of stressing about this sort of life decision!)
The jewish holidays were amazing - on sukkot, we had about 70 peole here at Brown house and sang and danced around a campfire and on stage. A few of us decided at midnight to go on a hike - (where else can I con 4 people into hiking a mile and a half and sleeping on a cold ledge at midnight?!!!) Last week, I successfully completed the largest corn maze in the east - and we did it without a flashlight in the middle of the night! Simchat Torah, a celebration for completing the reading of the Old Testament - took place (for me) in NYC. I met up with a friend from Israel for dinner and got to meet some very interesting and inspiring rabbinical students. Then, we danced until all hours, and when most people had left BJ on the upper west side, the crowd that remained was mostly people from up here. We kept the party going even in NYC - spreading our light and spirit 100 miles from our homebase. Later, we were invited to a rooftop party. 30 or more Jews sat on the roof eating lasagna and fondu, singing, dancing and smoking from a nargila - with the NYC skyline in place of our usual backdrop of trees, lake and peaks.
The future? It's weird to even think of. I am so happily absorbed in daily life here that planning beyond lunch tomorrow seems unnecessary. I have found out about an outward bound class for educators that I would really like to do before heading back to Israel. We'll see. There's Hazon and Livnot as well, and my friend Eli wants me to teach outdoor education to children with serious drug and alcohol problems in Utah. I am blessed with choices, and none of them can be wrong...
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Silent Sabbaths and Sukkah...
Sometimes, in a fit of panic, I wonder if I've joined some Jewish cult, if I'm being brainwashed into this world of environmentalism, spirituality and hyper-awareness. But maybe it's just the fact that it's been awhile since I've been around this many Jews, and that it's even more unusual for me to find mysef surrounded by a tight-knit, intentional community with whom I share so many core values. While I have started to feel slightly suffocated at times, for the most part I consider myself incredibly lucky to be in a place where I feel I can really learn and be challenged by everyone around me, and where daily I have brand new expereinces and revelations. One of the things I love most here is that we seem to take nothing for granted here. There is a strong sense of appreciation here - for everything from the good food and the moon at night to the annoying gnats that somehow play a role in the eco-system and make it all work out.
So, surrounded by opportunities to learn more about Judaism, and especially about the renewal crowd, (Eilat Chayyim, a spiritual retreat center just merged with Isabella Freedman) I have tried to delve into things as much as possible and set my judgements aside....
This weekend, Eilat Chayyim offered a pre-yom kippur silent shababt. I'd been tempted and terrified by the idea of a silent retreat ever since Cora first mentioned it to me last January. In Israel, I had tried to arrange to attend one along the Dead Sea, but the timing never worked out and those retreats were 10 days long. here, in the comfort of my own community, for a mere 36 hours, was a chance to do the totally antithetical thing for Rachel. To shut up, to listen, to not communicate with others in any way. And I really really enjoyed it.
Whoa.
When we entered the orientation, we recieved an "angel card," a slip of paper printed with a single word - the word which would dictate the feeling and spirit of our weekend.
My bright blue card read: Obedience. After a summer of considering the merits of discipline, this seemed appropriate, although daunting.
The basic structure of the meditation was what our facilatator, Jeff, called the "pressure-packed" method. Rather than urging us to clear our thoughts through "vacuum packing" or clearning all thoughts from our mind, he gave us so much to concetrate pn that ideally, no room would be left for errant mind wanderings.
For the next 36 hours, while eating, walking, falling asleep, brushing our teeth, etc...we uttered these four phrases:
May ___________ be blessed with peace.
May ___________ be blessed with joy.
May ___________ be blessed with lovingkindness.
May ___________ be blessed with compassion.
AT first, we filled in the blank with an easy person, a "benefactor." next, we did ourselves our family and then out larger community. By the end of the weekend, the goal was to have us bleesing (silently and repetedly in our heads) everyone from our best friend's godmother, to the guy who hit out fender last week and Osama Bin Ladin. Spread the love, offer blessings- a potentially powerful experience, but I spent so much time trying to remember the order of the four blessings that my mind truly did stay on track. the thought that distracted by the most was a feeling of sincerely and very reallly missing my fmaily. AS soon as sun set on Shabbat, I drove to Kings Park. Admittedly, I kept saying the mantras during the ride, and even blessed the gas station attendant and a guy who helped me with directions salong the way. "May that dude by blessed with peace," I began.
It seems as though I should ahve been bored. We say in the round yurt on back jacks and pillows, cozied up to the fire place and repeated (silently) the phrases fo hours. "Services" consisted of a few short blessings, repeated over and over again for several minutes, first aloud and then in out minds. For the Torah service, we could choose to go up for the aliyot whose subject matter called to us.
So, what's my final analysis? I loved the silent part and the clarity and calmness it offered. I wore no watch and felt free from the normal constraints of time and to do lists. I had time to think, even if it was only about four phrases! Overall, I had more difficulty with the experience as a Jewish one. I am supportive of the renewal movement in that I feel it offers a Judaism that is palatable and desirable to many people who would otherwise be unaffiliated. At the same time, I fear that in focusing on the oneness, on the mediation and on the practices that Judaism shares with more trendy religious practices like BUddhism and Kabbalah, I worry that the more traditional and equally important aspects of Judaism are being overlooked, forgotten and replaces by the more enticing elements.
Sukkot later. I've got to get to sleep. To make a long story short, we started our sukkah today and spent the night building it with the Adamah and Eilat Chayyim members of our community. We painted the totempole like support poles and had a drum circle, free style singing, rapping and dancing, and a series of fire spinners. As the partying continues, I still feel like the cops are going to come any minutes, until I remember how we live in the outskirts of Falls Village and that the directors of the site are out there spinning fire, dancing, and painting along with us.
This place is unlike any other, and I am so glad to be able to see it, feel and learn from it. If living in this tight - knit of a community poses challenges, as it ineveitable will, I will only be stronger for it.
Sometimes, in a fit of panic, I wonder if I've joined some Jewish cult, if I'm being brainwashed into this world of environmentalism, spirituality and hyper-awareness. But maybe it's just the fact that it's been awhile since I've been around this many Jews, and that it's even more unusual for me to find mysef surrounded by a tight-knit, intentional community with whom I share so many core values. While I have started to feel slightly suffocated at times, for the most part I consider myself incredibly lucky to be in a place where I feel I can really learn and be challenged by everyone around me, and where daily I have brand new expereinces and revelations. One of the things I love most here is that we seem to take nothing for granted here. There is a strong sense of appreciation here - for everything from the good food and the moon at night to the annoying gnats that somehow play a role in the eco-system and make it all work out.
So, surrounded by opportunities to learn more about Judaism, and especially about the renewal crowd, (Eilat Chayyim, a spiritual retreat center just merged with Isabella Freedman) I have tried to delve into things as much as possible and set my judgements aside....
This weekend, Eilat Chayyim offered a pre-yom kippur silent shababt. I'd been tempted and terrified by the idea of a silent retreat ever since Cora first mentioned it to me last January. In Israel, I had tried to arrange to attend one along the Dead Sea, but the timing never worked out and those retreats were 10 days long. here, in the comfort of my own community, for a mere 36 hours, was a chance to do the totally antithetical thing for Rachel. To shut up, to listen, to not communicate with others in any way. And I really really enjoyed it.
Whoa.
When we entered the orientation, we recieved an "angel card," a slip of paper printed with a single word - the word which would dictate the feeling and spirit of our weekend.
My bright blue card read: Obedience. After a summer of considering the merits of discipline, this seemed appropriate, although daunting.
The basic structure of the meditation was what our facilatator, Jeff, called the "pressure-packed" method. Rather than urging us to clear our thoughts through "vacuum packing" or clearning all thoughts from our mind, he gave us so much to concetrate pn that ideally, no room would be left for errant mind wanderings.
For the next 36 hours, while eating, walking, falling asleep, brushing our teeth, etc...we uttered these four phrases:
May ___________ be blessed with peace.
May ___________ be blessed with joy.
May ___________ be blessed with lovingkindness.
May ___________ be blessed with compassion.
AT first, we filled in the blank with an easy person, a "benefactor." next, we did ourselves our family and then out larger community. By the end of the weekend, the goal was to have us bleesing (silently and repetedly in our heads) everyone from our best friend's godmother, to the guy who hit out fender last week and Osama Bin Ladin. Spread the love, offer blessings- a potentially powerful experience, but I spent so much time trying to remember the order of the four blessings that my mind truly did stay on track. the thought that distracted by the most was a feeling of sincerely and very reallly missing my fmaily. AS soon as sun set on Shabbat, I drove to Kings Park. Admittedly, I kept saying the mantras during the ride, and even blessed the gas station attendant and a guy who helped me with directions salong the way. "May that dude by blessed with peace," I began.
It seems as though I should ahve been bored. We say in the round yurt on back jacks and pillows, cozied up to the fire place and repeated (silently) the phrases fo hours. "Services" consisted of a few short blessings, repeated over and over again for several minutes, first aloud and then in out minds. For the Torah service, we could choose to go up for the aliyot whose subject matter called to us.
So, what's my final analysis? I loved the silent part and the clarity and calmness it offered. I wore no watch and felt free from the normal constraints of time and to do lists. I had time to think, even if it was only about four phrases! Overall, I had more difficulty with the experience as a Jewish one. I am supportive of the renewal movement in that I feel it offers a Judaism that is palatable and desirable to many people who would otherwise be unaffiliated. At the same time, I fear that in focusing on the oneness, on the mediation and on the practices that Judaism shares with more trendy religious practices like BUddhism and Kabbalah, I worry that the more traditional and equally important aspects of Judaism are being overlooked, forgotten and replaces by the more enticing elements.
Sukkot later. I've got to get to sleep. To make a long story short, we started our sukkah today and spent the night building it with the Adamah and Eilat Chayyim members of our community. We painted the totempole like support poles and had a drum circle, free style singing, rapping and dancing, and a series of fire spinners. As the partying continues, I still feel like the cops are going to come any minutes, until I remember how we live in the outskirts of Falls Village and that the directors of the site are out there spinning fire, dancing, and painting along with us.
This place is unlike any other, and I am so glad to be able to see it, feel and learn from it. If living in this tight - knit of a community poses challenges, as it ineveitable will, I will only be stronger for it.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Our training at Teva is coming to a close and the children are arriving on Monday! I can't wait.
These 3 weeks have been unusually for me in terms of journeys - I have barely left these few square miles, have met few people outside this small community - and yet, intellectually, the journey has been immeasurable. So many of the events and moments that I want to share are spiritual epiphinies - hard and a bit hokey to express in this format. So I will start with more concrete recollections and perhaps continue on to the ephemeral ones.
This community is small - a bubble smaller than that of Kibbutz Ketura or Vassar - but I don't feel closed in. True, we are particularly undiverse from a first glimpse - but in spite of all this, and the lack of phone, television, newspaper or regular internet access, I do not feel antsy.
To underscore just how surprising this is, let me try and describe the communtiy here.
The staff has three parts - teva - those of us who work in education, Adamah - the peple who work the grounds and the farm - and Eyylat Chayyim - a group that runs spiritual, reconstructionist Jewish retreats.
In short - everyone here is a practicing Jew, an environmentalist and an activist. We are all people who have chosen occupations that we hope will make the world a bit better - and hope to practice and spread socially aware lives. (I am one of the least "hippy" people here, to give you an idea.) Most of the people have some background in music or the arts, certainly we all love to sing and dance. We're all in our 20s = mostly between 23 and 27. I would venture to say that we are all vote Democrat or green and that most of us hav eplans to go to Israel in the near future.
So - not diverse, right?
In a lot of ways, it's true. It's so weird for me to realize that i have left the "real world" and been almost exclusively with Jews since June. And yet, I have no real complaints either. I find there is so much to learn from the people here, and they challenge me and push my identity as much as anywhere else.
These 3 weeks have been unusually for me in terms of journeys - I have barely left these few square miles, have met few people outside this small community - and yet, intellectually, the journey has been immeasurable. So many of the events and moments that I want to share are spiritual epiphinies - hard and a bit hokey to express in this format. So I will start with more concrete recollections and perhaps continue on to the ephemeral ones.
This community is small - a bubble smaller than that of Kibbutz Ketura or Vassar - but I don't feel closed in. True, we are particularly undiverse from a first glimpse - but in spite of all this, and the lack of phone, television, newspaper or regular internet access, I do not feel antsy.
To underscore just how surprising this is, let me try and describe the communtiy here.
The staff has three parts - teva - those of us who work in education, Adamah - the peple who work the grounds and the farm - and Eyylat Chayyim - a group that runs spiritual, reconstructionist Jewish retreats.
In short - everyone here is a practicing Jew, an environmentalist and an activist. We are all people who have chosen occupations that we hope will make the world a bit better - and hope to practice and spread socially aware lives. (I am one of the least "hippy" people here, to give you an idea.) Most of the people have some background in music or the arts, certainly we all love to sing and dance. We're all in our 20s = mostly between 23 and 27. I would venture to say that we are all vote Democrat or green and that most of us hav eplans to go to Israel in the near future.
So - not diverse, right?
In a lot of ways, it's true. It's so weird for me to realize that i have left the "real world" and been almost exclusively with Jews since June. And yet, I have no real complaints either. I find there is so much to learn from the people here, and they challenge me and push my identity as much as anywhere else.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Teva...
I am here at Camp Isabella Freedman, typing from a computer with a view of rhodedendrons, a grove of evergreens and beyond that a lake. Just finished some icebreakers and postermaking with a group of teens from Western Mass. ANd now, the Hazon bike ride Shabbat is about to began. About 250 riders and crewmembers are gathered at the camp. On Sunday, we will leave for Surprise Lake Camp for the first half of the bike ride. Each rider has been asked to raise at least $1000 and I think many of them raised more. The cause? Jewish environmental organizations. On Monday afternoon, we will arrive at the 92nd Street Y in NYC. I'll be cheering and excited to see some friends and family at the finish line too! (hi dad.)
THis week...
As you can imagine, the transition from Tsfat to Brooklyn to Camping was an abrupt one. I had a very difficult last weekend in Tsfat, but felt supported and safe with the Livnot community. After a 26 hour return trip home, I napped, hung out with mom and headed for freedman.
Monday afternoon, we headed for the Appalachain Trail, right in the corner of CT where Mass, NY and CT meet. We hiked in to a base camp about a mile and set up our home base for the week. Each day, we awoke to the sound of our director, Nili, singing Modeh Ani. We held shacharit in our "makom kodesh" -- holy place - - and then had a warm breakfast. THe rest of the day, we hiked and learned about the plants and animals of this region.
Teva, clearly, is going to be a challange - but in the best possible way. I know so little about nature and the environment, yet in a few short weeks I'll be teaching it to children... I've been studying plant species and asking lots of questions. I've also spent a lot of time thinking about how this interest in the natural world is new to me, but also very natural. My brother works for The NAture Conservancy, and I have many childhood memories of my mother recycling, bird watching and shopping at Bread and Circus.
The weather is hard too! It's very very cold here and I have no appropriate clothing. Israeli desert is somehow different from the Appalachain Trail in the almost-fall. (spekaing of which, we say the first few leaves changing! ) Above all, I think that nature reminds us to appreciate the absence of annoyances - how good it feels to not have a headache, to not be cold, to have comfortable feet and a warm bed. So muich is taken for granted in our modern society and I appreciate these things that much more now.
How "hard core" is Teva? It's hard to say. On one hand, it's really nice to be around a large group of people who like to sing, dance and be crazy even more than me. WEe all have headlamps, don't mind being dirty and enjoy using leaves instead of Toilet paper. Still, many of my coworkers are far more hard core than I! (and it's humbling!) When we returned, I wanted so badly shower... everyone else went to bed, and some still hadn't showered 12 hours later. wow. What's more, we are sleeping in bunks about 1/3 f a mile from the showers in the pool house. This ain't the ritz baby, and even for youth hostel bum, me, it will take getting used to.
Still, am happy to be here and have no stress on my mind! ISrael in 07 stilll in the plan... But that's the future. For nwo, it's shabbat, and while I miss the people I collected this summer, I am excited about the new ones I'll meet this weekend.
B'shalom
I am here at Camp Isabella Freedman, typing from a computer with a view of rhodedendrons, a grove of evergreens and beyond that a lake. Just finished some icebreakers and postermaking with a group of teens from Western Mass. ANd now, the Hazon bike ride Shabbat is about to began. About 250 riders and crewmembers are gathered at the camp. On Sunday, we will leave for Surprise Lake Camp for the first half of the bike ride. Each rider has been asked to raise at least $1000 and I think many of them raised more. The cause? Jewish environmental organizations. On Monday afternoon, we will arrive at the 92nd Street Y in NYC. I'll be cheering and excited to see some friends and family at the finish line too! (hi dad.)
THis week...
As you can imagine, the transition from Tsfat to Brooklyn to Camping was an abrupt one. I had a very difficult last weekend in Tsfat, but felt supported and safe with the Livnot community. After a 26 hour return trip home, I napped, hung out with mom and headed for freedman.
Monday afternoon, we headed for the Appalachain Trail, right in the corner of CT where Mass, NY and CT meet. We hiked in to a base camp about a mile and set up our home base for the week. Each day, we awoke to the sound of our director, Nili, singing Modeh Ani. We held shacharit in our "makom kodesh" -- holy place - - and then had a warm breakfast. THe rest of the day, we hiked and learned about the plants and animals of this region.
Teva, clearly, is going to be a challange - but in the best possible way. I know so little about nature and the environment, yet in a few short weeks I'll be teaching it to children... I've been studying plant species and asking lots of questions. I've also spent a lot of time thinking about how this interest in the natural world is new to me, but also very natural. My brother works for The NAture Conservancy, and I have many childhood memories of my mother recycling, bird watching and shopping at Bread and Circus.
The weather is hard too! It's very very cold here and I have no appropriate clothing. Israeli desert is somehow different from the Appalachain Trail in the almost-fall. (spekaing of which, we say the first few leaves changing! ) Above all, I think that nature reminds us to appreciate the absence of annoyances - how good it feels to not have a headache, to not be cold, to have comfortable feet and a warm bed. So muich is taken for granted in our modern society and I appreciate these things that much more now.
How "hard core" is Teva? It's hard to say. On one hand, it's really nice to be around a large group of people who like to sing, dance and be crazy even more than me. WEe all have headlamps, don't mind being dirty and enjoy using leaves instead of Toilet paper. Still, many of my coworkers are far more hard core than I! (and it's humbling!) When we returned, I wanted so badly shower... everyone else went to bed, and some still hadn't showered 12 hours later. wow. What's more, we are sleeping in bunks about 1/3 f a mile from the showers in the pool house. This ain't the ritz baby, and even for youth hostel bum, me, it will take getting used to.
Still, am happy to be here and have no stress on my mind! ISrael in 07 stilll in the plan... But that's the future. For nwo, it's shabbat, and while I miss the people I collected this summer, I am excited about the new ones I'll meet this weekend.
B'shalom
Monday, August 28, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
West Bank, Soldiers...
The past two days have been extremely intense. The knowledge that my 64 days in eretz yisrael will soon be ending adds an extra emotional weight and I am quite honestly overwhelmed with thoughts, ideas and questions. One of my only "complaints" about Livnot is that time to talk, write or even process what we see can only happen in place of sleep.
Yesterday morning, we did a community service project with Packages from home. Our Livnot group of 10 joined a group of volunteers from Israel and America. Their group was for hearing impaired Jews, and as the director of the organization told about her project, we watched in awe as one woman translater her speech into ASL and another man translater the signed lanugage into Hebrew Sign Language! Using an assembly line format, we filled 1000 plastic bags with t-shirts, boxers, soaps, toothpaste and candies - all to be dropped off (via helicopter) to IDF soldiers in S Lebanon or Northern Israel. Remarkable, the organization puts together these packages several times a month using supplies and funds from the US.
It was a great experience and in about 2 hours, the job was done. With the afternoon free, five of us set out for Hadassah Hospital to visit wounded soldiers.
Picture this: 5 american woman in their 20s walking around an unfamiliar hospital with bags full of rugelach, magazines and sheshbesh (backgammon) boards for soldiers. All we have is a small piece of paper directing us to find "Ram Shtayim" We ask several people and remarkable, everyone seems to know the guy! WE get to the correct floor ( -1) and ask for his office. Right away, people know where it is, so we walk right in to the military section of the hospital, curious to find out which staff member is our well-known friend, Ram.... only then, we realize that "ram" means unit, and that we had in fact been searching for "Unit 2." Language barriers ahve a way of quickly reminding us to be humble!
At the hospital, we visited 5 soldiers - 4 of whom were under 21, and one who was a reservist who looked to be about 28. Most of the soldiers had visitors - friends, family, or fellow soldiers. All but one of them were not yet able or wanting to talk about the war. Ronen, the last soldier we visited, did not seem too displeased by the sudden appearance of 5 american women in his room. He did, however, express more than alittle embarassment at the presence of his mother, especially when she asked for our email addresses.
Only one guy, ITzi, spoke candidly about his experience. When we walked into his room, he immediately welcomed us into the seating area outside. There, before we could ask any questions, he explained how he had received the gaping hole in his mouth. During a raid in Lebanon, he had been hit with 3 bullets by "friendly" fire. His front teeth were gone, and what was left of his lips was a mix of stitches, open skin and a whole lot of this clear jelly substance. Still, the rest of his face was untouched and he had bright green eyes and the smooth rosy cheeks to prove his youth. The men who had shot him came to visit this weekend and were happy to see he was alive. The injury had been a bloody one, but Itzi had remained conscious. He explained how he immediately reached for the gauze in his pocket and put it to his mouth. With only 3 months left to serve in the tanks unit, he admitted that the proverbial bullet chasing every soldier had found him. In fact, in Itzi's batallion of 33 soldiers, 10 others were wounded in the war. 4 died. In a few weeks, he will return to the army to complete his military service.
========================================
In a poetic follow to yesterday's military theme, we spent today in the West Bank.
Today in every way was testimony to how little about a situation you can tell from afar. Nerwspapers, television, even first hand knowledge - nothing comes close to going somewhere yourself.
When I learned about our schedule, I was nervous and excited about the day. Our leader, Shmuel lives in the West Bank city (or Judean city) or Ephrat. He is a learned and inspiring teacher with a warm and loving family. He has five children under the age of 9 or 10. Both he and hsi wife grew up in north america - Shmuel was an active USYer. Shmuel does not fit the stereotype, the image that I'd held of a "settler." Nor does Ephrat in any way look like a "settlement" As we drove the 20 minutes from Jersualem, we passed the security fence *(still unfinished) and drove through two tunnels that head toward Ephrat (near Ramallah.) New checkpoints are being built to look like full-on border crossings. I noticed graffiti inside one of the tunnels that said "apartheid wall." ANd it was there that any sign of the conflict sort of ceased.
Efrat sits on 3 hills outside of Ramallah. It is a well-off town, msotly religious,
and largely English speaking. Many enormous homes with 3 aqnd 4 stories line the cliffs. Land here is cheap. Rent on a 2 or 3 story home can be less than 500 american! Any takers? The homes are modern, the schools some of the ebst in the country - and the community is close knit and supportive. The price? Well, that's all perspective, although Shmuel did tell us that about 50% of the population carries a gun for protection and that one had once been used successfully to thwart a suicide bomber in the shopping plaza. Scary sounding, I know, but when you walk through the stone streets and see the sun reflecting off the Jerusalem stone homes, it feels more like Pleasantville than a war zone.
From there, we headed to the old Kings Highway, a route that has traversed this part of the world for thousands of years. Once an ancient trade route between the fertile crescence and Egypt ( I think ) we read about some of the landmarks in the Torah and saw the ancient Mikva. It is from thsi point that Jerusalem is first visible for a hiker heading north from the desert. Today, it is a dusty dirt path that traverses grape vines (yuum!) and fig trees - and offers a vivid view of the Jewish and Arab settlements that speckle the various hills. As a Palestinian truck rolled by, we asked the driver to come out andt alk to us. He told us about his village and invited us all to hsi home. When asked about his life, he told us he was tired of war. And that yes, he thinks soon tehre will be another war. From there, we headed to a kibbutz in the Etzion Block, made famous by the battle there taht took place on the eve of the founding of Israel. Settled first in the 1920s and again in 1943, the kibbutz's location was strategically chosen to defend Jerusalem. In may 1948, the male population died defending the area. The women and children stayed in a bunker, but all except 4 were killed by a hand grenade launched into their shelter. In '67, these children returned to rebuild their parents' settlement.
So what is a settlment? We even went to an "illegal outpost" a collection of homes that Israel clearly supplies with electricity, water etc... The orthodox families of 9 and 10 children hardly seem to pose a threat. There is a vast amount of vacant land and plenty of room for people - arab or jewish - to expand their municipalities. The Palestinians get there water and electricity outsourced from Israeli companies. Thus, the biggest problems for the Palestians is the lack of work ( I am guessing ehre) and the removal of JEws from the area would take away the jobs in construction.
For now, I am too confused to state where I stand on the issue. But I do know taht it is far more complex than any newspaper can convey. What's more, after last year's disengagement threatened to divide the country and now it seems that all was for naught, it's harder to argue with the people living in the territories. True, there are other places to live, and safer ones at that, but in apart of the world that is fueled by passion and ideology, is it so hard to understand that people want to live in the land (judea) for which they are named? Is it any more wrong or right than living in Jerusalem? Or in other former Palestinian villages? I dont know....
------------------------------------
On a lighter note..............
We went for a class at the small home of a rabbi and his 9 children. HIs wife walks in the room and he says, "meet me first wife, Donna." She asks him if he has heard from 2 of their kids. When he doesnt respond, she asks again. He hasn't heard from them, but seems unconcerned,l but finally answers: "Im sure they're fine! What could go wrong? It's only the west bank."
Blast from the past - Being back in this Jewish world has meant some unexpected and frequent encounters from my USY days. Today, a guy from Ramah arrived. We had a very interesting discussion with him about the vacuum of Jewish life that exists between college and family synagogue membership. (aka: Jews in their 20s/30s) TOmorrow, we're going to Alexander Muss and my former teacher will be leading our tour. The jewish world feels very small - especially the american, zionist Jewish world,but when I think about Kibbutz, or the diversity of my group here, I remember that the world (even the Jewish world) still consists LARGELY of people I have yet to me. I am also more confident that Teva is the perfect place for me to be spending the next 4 months.
Will be in NYC this weekend. . . Can't believe I almost went to Greece!
The past two days have been extremely intense. The knowledge that my 64 days in eretz yisrael will soon be ending adds an extra emotional weight and I am quite honestly overwhelmed with thoughts, ideas and questions. One of my only "complaints" about Livnot is that time to talk, write or even process what we see can only happen in place of sleep.
Yesterday morning, we did a community service project with Packages from home. Our Livnot group of 10 joined a group of volunteers from Israel and America. Their group was for hearing impaired Jews, and as the director of the organization told about her project, we watched in awe as one woman translater her speech into ASL and another man translater the signed lanugage into Hebrew Sign Language! Using an assembly line format, we filled 1000 plastic bags with t-shirts, boxers, soaps, toothpaste and candies - all to be dropped off (via helicopter) to IDF soldiers in S Lebanon or Northern Israel. Remarkable, the organization puts together these packages several times a month using supplies and funds from the US.
It was a great experience and in about 2 hours, the job was done. With the afternoon free, five of us set out for Hadassah Hospital to visit wounded soldiers.
Picture this: 5 american woman in their 20s walking around an unfamiliar hospital with bags full of rugelach, magazines and sheshbesh (backgammon) boards for soldiers. All we have is a small piece of paper directing us to find "Ram Shtayim" We ask several people and remarkable, everyone seems to know the guy! WE get to the correct floor ( -1) and ask for his office. Right away, people know where it is, so we walk right in to the military section of the hospital, curious to find out which staff member is our well-known friend, Ram.... only then, we realize that "ram" means unit, and that we had in fact been searching for "Unit 2." Language barriers ahve a way of quickly reminding us to be humble!
At the hospital, we visited 5 soldiers - 4 of whom were under 21, and one who was a reservist who looked to be about 28. Most of the soldiers had visitors - friends, family, or fellow soldiers. All but one of them were not yet able or wanting to talk about the war. Ronen, the last soldier we visited, did not seem too displeased by the sudden appearance of 5 american women in his room. He did, however, express more than alittle embarassment at the presence of his mother, especially when she asked for our email addresses.
Only one guy, ITzi, spoke candidly about his experience. When we walked into his room, he immediately welcomed us into the seating area outside. There, before we could ask any questions, he explained how he had received the gaping hole in his mouth. During a raid in Lebanon, he had been hit with 3 bullets by "friendly" fire. His front teeth were gone, and what was left of his lips was a mix of stitches, open skin and a whole lot of this clear jelly substance. Still, the rest of his face was untouched and he had bright green eyes and the smooth rosy cheeks to prove his youth. The men who had shot him came to visit this weekend and were happy to see he was alive. The injury had been a bloody one, but Itzi had remained conscious. He explained how he immediately reached for the gauze in his pocket and put it to his mouth. With only 3 months left to serve in the tanks unit, he admitted that the proverbial bullet chasing every soldier had found him. In fact, in Itzi's batallion of 33 soldiers, 10 others were wounded in the war. 4 died. In a few weeks, he will return to the army to complete his military service.
========================================
In a poetic follow to yesterday's military theme, we spent today in the West Bank.
Today in every way was testimony to how little about a situation you can tell from afar. Nerwspapers, television, even first hand knowledge - nothing comes close to going somewhere yourself.
When I learned about our schedule, I was nervous and excited about the day. Our leader, Shmuel lives in the West Bank city (or Judean city) or Ephrat. He is a learned and inspiring teacher with a warm and loving family. He has five children under the age of 9 or 10. Both he and hsi wife grew up in north america - Shmuel was an active USYer. Shmuel does not fit the stereotype, the image that I'd held of a "settler." Nor does Ephrat in any way look like a "settlement" As we drove the 20 minutes from Jersualem, we passed the security fence *(still unfinished) and drove through two tunnels that head toward Ephrat (near Ramallah.) New checkpoints are being built to look like full-on border crossings. I noticed graffiti inside one of the tunnels that said "apartheid wall." ANd it was there that any sign of the conflict sort of ceased.
Efrat sits on 3 hills outside of Ramallah. It is a well-off town, msotly religious,
and largely English speaking. Many enormous homes with 3 aqnd 4 stories line the cliffs. Land here is cheap. Rent on a 2 or 3 story home can be less than 500 american! Any takers? The homes are modern, the schools some of the ebst in the country - and the community is close knit and supportive. The price? Well, that's all perspective, although Shmuel did tell us that about 50% of the population carries a gun for protection and that one had once been used successfully to thwart a suicide bomber in the shopping plaza. Scary sounding, I know, but when you walk through the stone streets and see the sun reflecting off the Jerusalem stone homes, it feels more like Pleasantville than a war zone.
From there, we headed to the old Kings Highway, a route that has traversed this part of the world for thousands of years. Once an ancient trade route between the fertile crescence and Egypt ( I think ) we read about some of the landmarks in the Torah and saw the ancient Mikva. It is from thsi point that Jerusalem is first visible for a hiker heading north from the desert. Today, it is a dusty dirt path that traverses grape vines (yuum!) and fig trees - and offers a vivid view of the Jewish and Arab settlements that speckle the various hills. As a Palestinian truck rolled by, we asked the driver to come out andt alk to us. He told us about his village and invited us all to hsi home. When asked about his life, he told us he was tired of war. And that yes, he thinks soon tehre will be another war. From there, we headed to a kibbutz in the Etzion Block, made famous by the battle there taht took place on the eve of the founding of Israel. Settled first in the 1920s and again in 1943, the kibbutz's location was strategically chosen to defend Jerusalem. In may 1948, the male population died defending the area. The women and children stayed in a bunker, but all except 4 were killed by a hand grenade launched into their shelter. In '67, these children returned to rebuild their parents' settlement.
So what is a settlment? We even went to an "illegal outpost" a collection of homes that Israel clearly supplies with electricity, water etc... The orthodox families of 9 and 10 children hardly seem to pose a threat. There is a vast amount of vacant land and plenty of room for people - arab or jewish - to expand their municipalities. The Palestinians get there water and electricity outsourced from Israeli companies. Thus, the biggest problems for the Palestians is the lack of work ( I am guessing ehre) and the removal of JEws from the area would take away the jobs in construction.
For now, I am too confused to state where I stand on the issue. But I do know taht it is far more complex than any newspaper can convey. What's more, after last year's disengagement threatened to divide the country and now it seems that all was for naught, it's harder to argue with the people living in the territories. True, there are other places to live, and safer ones at that, but in apart of the world that is fueled by passion and ideology, is it so hard to understand that people want to live in the land (judea) for which they are named? Is it any more wrong or right than living in Jerusalem? Or in other former Palestinian villages? I dont know....
------------------------------------
On a lighter note..............
We went for a class at the small home of a rabbi and his 9 children. HIs wife walks in the room and he says, "meet me first wife, Donna." She asks him if he has heard from 2 of their kids. When he doesnt respond, she asks again. He hasn't heard from them, but seems unconcerned,l but finally answers: "Im sure they're fine! What could go wrong? It's only the west bank."
Blast from the past - Being back in this Jewish world has meant some unexpected and frequent encounters from my USY days. Today, a guy from Ramah arrived. We had a very interesting discussion with him about the vacuum of Jewish life that exists between college and family synagogue membership. (aka: Jews in their 20s/30s) TOmorrow, we're going to Alexander Muss and my former teacher will be leading our tour. The jewish world feels very small - especially the american, zionist Jewish world,but when I think about Kibbutz, or the diversity of my group here, I remember that the world (even the Jewish world) still consists LARGELY of people I have yet to me. I am also more confident that Teva is the perfect place for me to be spending the next 4 months.
Will be in NYC this weekend. . . Can't believe I almost went to Greece!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Jerusalem...
We say that Jerusalem is the center of the world. I find this statement impossible to refute. Putting aside religious fables and sentiments, what happens in this city today sends out ripples across the globe. Here, in the fertile crescent, the 'cradle of civilizations' people have bene struggling for years to connect, to dwell, to somehow mark their stake in this place. And today, of course, is no different. I'm still not sure waht the "axis of evil" means, but Jerusalem is the axis of the world.
The week has been full of just about everything- except sleep. If I was frustrated on kibbutz by the lack of meaning and connection to Judaism and Israel, this week has more than made up for it.
Let me explain: Last friday, I raced back from Jordan to make it for Shabbat in Jerusalem. I had originally intended on spending it with some distant relatives, but fate, my heart, or whatever led me to the free youth hostel in the Old City where Sara, my former roommate was staying. The plan: to spend 3 days in Jerusalem and then head to Greece.
AS I rode through the streets from the bus station to the old city, Jerusalem's magic aura ensnared me immediately. It's a beautiful city - all religious symbolism aside - it's roads and buildings are made of a pale beige stone and the light seems to speckle the hills and reflect in thousands of directions off of windows, trees, and rooftops. A mix of people from the Jewish world roam the sidewalks, with the religious communtiy re[resenting a far larger proportion than in other ISraeli cities that I'd been to so far this summer.
Highlights of the week:
Shabbat DInner and Lunch with Aish HaTorah
Workshop on Hell
Yad Vashem
Chana Peek
Beuduin Tent Arad
Ein Gedi
The Dead Sea
Shabbat in the Park
Shabbat Ruach
Megan Schiff
Artists Market - Avi Geffen
Tsfat!
Thoughts on the futrue
We say that Jerusalem is the center of the world. I find this statement impossible to refute. Putting aside religious fables and sentiments, what happens in this city today sends out ripples across the globe. Here, in the fertile crescent, the 'cradle of civilizations' people have bene struggling for years to connect, to dwell, to somehow mark their stake in this place. And today, of course, is no different. I'm still not sure waht the "axis of evil" means, but Jerusalem is the axis of the world.
The week has been full of just about everything- except sleep. If I was frustrated on kibbutz by the lack of meaning and connection to Judaism and Israel, this week has more than made up for it.
Let me explain: Last friday, I raced back from Jordan to make it for Shabbat in Jerusalem. I had originally intended on spending it with some distant relatives, but fate, my heart, or whatever led me to the free youth hostel in the Old City where Sara, my former roommate was staying. The plan: to spend 3 days in Jerusalem and then head to Greece.
AS I rode through the streets from the bus station to the old city, Jerusalem's magic aura ensnared me immediately. It's a beautiful city - all religious symbolism aside - it's roads and buildings are made of a pale beige stone and the light seems to speckle the hills and reflect in thousands of directions off of windows, trees, and rooftops. A mix of people from the Jewish world roam the sidewalks, with the religious communtiy re[resenting a far larger proportion than in other ISraeli cities that I'd been to so far this summer.
Highlights of the week:
Shabbat DInner and Lunch with Aish HaTorah
Workshop on Hell
Yad Vashem
Chana Peek
Beuduin Tent Arad
Ein Gedi
The Dead Sea
Shabbat in the Park
Shabbat Ruach
Megan Schiff
Artists Market - Avi Geffen
Tsfat!
Thoughts on the futrue
Monday, August 14, 2006
PETRA....
Finally! The passport arrives and freedom is again atainable... APologies for the dramatization (surprise, surprise)
After receiving our passports on Monday afternoon, Jeremy and I set off from kibbutz around 2:00 PM on Wednesday. Leaving the kibbutz was no easy task - packing, cleaning, working, saying goodbyes, filling out paper work, securing our plans on the Internet etc... It was no easy task and we were both touched by how many people offered parting gifts, parties, and invitations. At work, there was a small going away party and I received beautiful letters and gifts from some of the families.Tuesday night, I had a predinner cocktail at the Levy's (a French couple who has been on kibbutz for 20+ years) After dinner, I was invited for a vin chaud at the family of one of my babies... Then, we had a going away party (post jazz night/coffee house) complete with a late night swim in the pool.
The final days at kibbutz gave me a renewed sense of appreciation for the community; I am so grateful for the expereince and increasingly see the merits of raising a family there. (still, having access to the exterior "real" world is crucial!)
We took the bus to Eilat and then walked the 3+ km to the border with Jordan. Inspite of the heat, we wanted to walk across the border rather than taking a cab. We arrived and the border police greeted us with water and an admiring nod.
We found a hotel in Aqaba for 10 dinar (12 dollars) and proceeded directly to the hamman. It was about 8:30 by this time and we needed some ritually cleaning and relaxation to fete our return to the wandering lifestyle. At the hammam, we first went into a steam room. This room was unbelievably hot. Keeping in mind that outside it was already 100+ degrees, and this room felt MUCH MUCH hotter, I can only imagine the temperature. We sweated ferociously as we laid out on the tiled benches. Water dripped from the ceiling and was heated in running pools in the back of this room. After 20 + minutes in this incubator, our skin was ready to be scrubbed.
Scrubbed it was! We laid down, one at time, on a tile platform. There, we were scrubbed from head to toe with a washcloth/loofah. Our skin rolled off like the peal of an apple, taking with it the dirt and sweat and leaving the clean, fresh skin beneath exposed. Next, we were soaped up and then we rinsed off.
In the next room, we were served hot mint tea and water. After a relaxing 10 minute break, we were each treated to a 20-30 minutes massage. Wonderful...
After the hammam, we were dazed. It feels much like emerging from a dream or (from what I've heard) a drug induced state. . . . after some errant wandering, we realized how hungry we were and we set out in the difficult search for a restaurant.
Aqaba is a developed town, relatively clean, with hundreds of cafes lining the water front. The cafes, were only coffee and tea are served, are busy, even late at night. They patrons, however, are only men. AS we walked through the streets, the two westerners and especially me - the redheaded woman - made quite a spectacle. The stares of the men didn't surprise me - they weren't much worse than what I had expereince in Morocco - but Jeremy was uncomfortable. Still, the "harassment" was only with the eyes, and I felt pretty safe. We walked all along the Red Sea and passed through the enormous plaza at the heart of Aqaba. Here is there is a Jordanien flag that is ENORMOUS... It is lit up from three sides by spot lights and can be clearly seen from eilat as well.
Frustratred with out inability to find food, we were finally led to a great restauraint by a generous man from one of the cafes. He walked with us for 2 to 3 km until we reached a restaurant in the center of town. After telling the owner to take care of us, he left without any expectation or request for compensation. Jordaniens, we found throughout our trip, are very friendly! We ate kebabs and salad and then headed to bed.
The next morning, even after missing our alarm, we made it to Petra around 10:30 am. At the bus station in Wadi Aroum (the small tourist city right outside Petra) we were greeted by a wise business man who invited most of passengers to his hostel. For 10 dinar, we recieved a bed and free transportation to and from the ancient city. The hostel was amazing, with a spectacular view of the city and the surrounding mountains. From its terrace, later that night, we watched the sunset and shared a bottle of wine. For 3 dinar, there was an all you can eat buffet of vegetables, rice and 20 different salads. The hostel was clean and complete intune to the desires of the western backpacker. The owner even gave Jeremy a belt, since we were all sick of his pants falling down!
Petra - the most remarkable parts were indeed the ones I remembered. We approached the site from a km long walk through a canyon. Carved out from an ancient and dried up river, the walls stretch up on both sides for 5 or more stories. The width of the canyon is only about 10 feet. Above you, the clear blue sky stands in stark contrast the the sand-toned stone of the canyon walls.
We followed a French tour group for much of the way, more for amusement than education. The guide spoke inpeccable French, but shared little relevant information abotu the 2200 year old site. He showed us the water canals carved out to prevent flooding and explained the small statues of gods and goddesses. We were mostly entertained by the French couple with the tour = the woman walked in heels and did not miss an opportunity to complain. Her husband, tout francais with his curled up mustache- only nodded as she lamented the heat, the walk, the boring guide etc. etc. etc. Her lipstick smeared in the heat and it was clear that she was much more a laise in a parisien cafe than in the Jordanien desert.
The tourists, by the way, were largely French and Spanish. Most were families and the backpacking crowd was small. We saw a few other Americans, although not many. There were Suisse, Swedes and Dutch. I spoke a lot of French and kept my passport securely strapped to my belly!
to be continued....
Finally! The passport arrives and freedom is again atainable... APologies for the dramatization (surprise, surprise)
After receiving our passports on Monday afternoon, Jeremy and I set off from kibbutz around 2:00 PM on Wednesday. Leaving the kibbutz was no easy task - packing, cleaning, working, saying goodbyes, filling out paper work, securing our plans on the Internet etc... It was no easy task and we were both touched by how many people offered parting gifts, parties, and invitations. At work, there was a small going away party and I received beautiful letters and gifts from some of the families.Tuesday night, I had a predinner cocktail at the Levy's (a French couple who has been on kibbutz for 20+ years) After dinner, I was invited for a vin chaud at the family of one of my babies... Then, we had a going away party (post jazz night/coffee house) complete with a late night swim in the pool.
The final days at kibbutz gave me a renewed sense of appreciation for the community; I am so grateful for the expereince and increasingly see the merits of raising a family there. (still, having access to the exterior "real" world is crucial!)
We took the bus to Eilat and then walked the 3+ km to the border with Jordan. Inspite of the heat, we wanted to walk across the border rather than taking a cab. We arrived and the border police greeted us with water and an admiring nod.
We found a hotel in Aqaba for 10 dinar (12 dollars) and proceeded directly to the hamman. It was about 8:30 by this time and we needed some ritually cleaning and relaxation to fete our return to the wandering lifestyle. At the hammam, we first went into a steam room. This room was unbelievably hot. Keeping in mind that outside it was already 100+ degrees, and this room felt MUCH MUCH hotter, I can only imagine the temperature. We sweated ferociously as we laid out on the tiled benches. Water dripped from the ceiling and was heated in running pools in the back of this room. After 20 + minutes in this incubator, our skin was ready to be scrubbed.
Scrubbed it was! We laid down, one at time, on a tile platform. There, we were scrubbed from head to toe with a washcloth/loofah. Our skin rolled off like the peal of an apple, taking with it the dirt and sweat and leaving the clean, fresh skin beneath exposed. Next, we were soaped up and then we rinsed off.
In the next room, we were served hot mint tea and water. After a relaxing 10 minute break, we were each treated to a 20-30 minutes massage. Wonderful...
After the hammam, we were dazed. It feels much like emerging from a dream or (from what I've heard) a drug induced state. . . . after some errant wandering, we realized how hungry we were and we set out in the difficult search for a restaurant.
Aqaba is a developed town, relatively clean, with hundreds of cafes lining the water front. The cafes, were only coffee and tea are served, are busy, even late at night. They patrons, however, are only men. AS we walked through the streets, the two westerners and especially me - the redheaded woman - made quite a spectacle. The stares of the men didn't surprise me - they weren't much worse than what I had expereince in Morocco - but Jeremy was uncomfortable. Still, the "harassment" was only with the eyes, and I felt pretty safe. We walked all along the Red Sea and passed through the enormous plaza at the heart of Aqaba. Here is there is a Jordanien flag that is ENORMOUS... It is lit up from three sides by spot lights and can be clearly seen from eilat as well.
Frustratred with out inability to find food, we were finally led to a great restauraint by a generous man from one of the cafes. He walked with us for 2 to 3 km until we reached a restaurant in the center of town. After telling the owner to take care of us, he left without any expectation or request for compensation. Jordaniens, we found throughout our trip, are very friendly! We ate kebabs and salad and then headed to bed.
The next morning, even after missing our alarm, we made it to Petra around 10:30 am. At the bus station in Wadi Aroum (the small tourist city right outside Petra) we were greeted by a wise business man who invited most of passengers to his hostel. For 10 dinar, we recieved a bed and free transportation to and from the ancient city. The hostel was amazing, with a spectacular view of the city and the surrounding mountains. From its terrace, later that night, we watched the sunset and shared a bottle of wine. For 3 dinar, there was an all you can eat buffet of vegetables, rice and 20 different salads. The hostel was clean and complete intune to the desires of the western backpacker. The owner even gave Jeremy a belt, since we were all sick of his pants falling down!
Petra - the most remarkable parts were indeed the ones I remembered. We approached the site from a km long walk through a canyon. Carved out from an ancient and dried up river, the walls stretch up on both sides for 5 or more stories. The width of the canyon is only about 10 feet. Above you, the clear blue sky stands in stark contrast the the sand-toned stone of the canyon walls.
We followed a French tour group for much of the way, more for amusement than education. The guide spoke inpeccable French, but shared little relevant information abotu the 2200 year old site. He showed us the water canals carved out to prevent flooding and explained the small statues of gods and goddesses. We were mostly entertained by the French couple with the tour = the woman walked in heels and did not miss an opportunity to complain. Her husband, tout francais with his curled up mustache- only nodded as she lamented the heat, the walk, the boring guide etc. etc. etc. Her lipstick smeared in the heat and it was clear that she was much more a laise in a parisien cafe than in the Jordanien desert.
The tourists, by the way, were largely French and Spanish. Most were families and the backpacking crowd was small. We saw a few other Americans, although not many. There were Suisse, Swedes and Dutch. I spoke a lot of French and kept my passport securely strapped to my belly!
to be continued....
Sunday, August 06, 2006
The irony is not lost on me...
here I set out for a journey - a trip where each day would present me with new choices, with infinite opportunities and the freedom to explore any of them...
and then, in the poetic justice of life, I found myself in the most unpredictable of circumstances...
If a war alone were not enough to tame my wandering spirit, I was told 2 long weeks ago that my boss had mailed off my passport to Tel Aviv and that it would be at least 2 weeks until it would be back.
Just when I'd felt that the kibbutz experience was coming to a close, when the itching in my feet was becoming unbearable and my desire to see new places and meet new people had reached what I thought was an apex - boom, I found myself stuck, in one place, for at least 2 weeks. Rachel, the girl who almost never stays in one place for 5 consecutive days, has spent all of the past 2 weeks in the same square kilometer - and what's more, in 6 weeks, I have spent only 2 nights away from home.
Lesson learned.
What have I done, thus, with an abundance of free time, and - most unusual of all - a very strict and predictable routine? I have tried to relish it and have discovered the importance and rewards of discipline - something I never before considered.
I just finished reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being in which Kundera writes, "Happiness is the longing for repetition." And in fact, I realized that I don't have many habits or routines that I enjoy every day. Reading the paper, yes, drinking that morning coffee, etc...
And so, in the past 2 weeks, I have added some discipline to my days - swimming and writing regularly. And always trying to remember to relish the moment. While working at the baby house had started to become extremely boring, in the past few days I have been enjoying it more and more. I finally feel very connected to the children, and close to the 2 women I work with. Indeed, it seems these two extra weeks have given me the opportunity to establish much more meaningful relationships here. While I've spent less time with the volunteers in general - drinking beer and having somewhat meaningless conversations - I have been more active in kibbutz life, and among 2 of the kibbutz families.
This past week, I organized a clean up of one of the volunteer houses. A family of 6 from the north will be moving in this afternoon. As I cleaned the house, I thought of Waterside, and the promise I made the children there that I would "leave the world better than I found it." It was really inspiring to see the other volunteers who were willing to wake up early to help clean the house. In a war that offers so many questions, and where right and wrong elude me, it felt good to know that I was participating in even the tiniest of ways, but in a way that seemed incontroversially good.
Still, I have very mixed feelings about this war. I think I wanted to leave Israel with a spirit of unwavering Zionism, with an unconditional love for Ha'Aretz and a strong support for their cause. Many of the people around me do feel this spirit. I have met several lone soldiers - volunteers from England, the us or south Africa who sign up to fight with Israel even though they are not citizens and do not have family in Israel. Their confidence and conviction is amazing and I envy it and I Think of the quote, "If you haven;t found something worth dying for, you haven't really lived." (In which case, I guess I am still waiting for life...)
And so, I have taken advantage of these extra two weeks here and will continue to do so in the next few days. I remind myself to enjoy the free time, the heat, (44 degrees C!) the time to read, the free food and lodging... And I try to listen to the conversations around me, to learn from the shmorgasboard of people and perspectives that surround me on this desert island.
The good news is, my passport arrived today and as we speak it is burning a hole in my pocket, awakening the butterflies in my stomach and the ants in my pants (to be as trite as humanly possible)
I plan on leaving Kibbutz this Wednesday, but not before one more tiyul in the sand dunes and a jazz concert on Tuesday night.
Destination? Still not certain... I will keep you posted.
here I set out for a journey - a trip where each day would present me with new choices, with infinite opportunities and the freedom to explore any of them...
and then, in the poetic justice of life, I found myself in the most unpredictable of circumstances...
If a war alone were not enough to tame my wandering spirit, I was told 2 long weeks ago that my boss had mailed off my passport to Tel Aviv and that it would be at least 2 weeks until it would be back.
Just when I'd felt that the kibbutz experience was coming to a close, when the itching in my feet was becoming unbearable and my desire to see new places and meet new people had reached what I thought was an apex - boom, I found myself stuck, in one place, for at least 2 weeks. Rachel, the girl who almost never stays in one place for 5 consecutive days, has spent all of the past 2 weeks in the same square kilometer - and what's more, in 6 weeks, I have spent only 2 nights away from home.
Lesson learned.
What have I done, thus, with an abundance of free time, and - most unusual of all - a very strict and predictable routine? I have tried to relish it and have discovered the importance and rewards of discipline - something I never before considered.
I just finished reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being in which Kundera writes, "Happiness is the longing for repetition." And in fact, I realized that I don't have many habits or routines that I enjoy every day. Reading the paper, yes, drinking that morning coffee, etc...
And so, in the past 2 weeks, I have added some discipline to my days - swimming and writing regularly. And always trying to remember to relish the moment. While working at the baby house had started to become extremely boring, in the past few days I have been enjoying it more and more. I finally feel very connected to the children, and close to the 2 women I work with. Indeed, it seems these two extra weeks have given me the opportunity to establish much more meaningful relationships here. While I've spent less time with the volunteers in general - drinking beer and having somewhat meaningless conversations - I have been more active in kibbutz life, and among 2 of the kibbutz families.
This past week, I organized a clean up of one of the volunteer houses. A family of 6 from the north will be moving in this afternoon. As I cleaned the house, I thought of Waterside, and the promise I made the children there that I would "leave the world better than I found it." It was really inspiring to see the other volunteers who were willing to wake up early to help clean the house. In a war that offers so many questions, and where right and wrong elude me, it felt good to know that I was participating in even the tiniest of ways, but in a way that seemed incontroversially good.
Still, I have very mixed feelings about this war. I think I wanted to leave Israel with a spirit of unwavering Zionism, with an unconditional love for Ha'Aretz and a strong support for their cause. Many of the people around me do feel this spirit. I have met several lone soldiers - volunteers from England, the us or south Africa who sign up to fight with Israel even though they are not citizens and do not have family in Israel. Their confidence and conviction is amazing and I envy it and I Think of the quote, "If you haven;t found something worth dying for, you haven't really lived." (In which case, I guess I am still waiting for life...)
And so, I have taken advantage of these extra two weeks here and will continue to do so in the next few days. I remind myself to enjoy the free time, the heat, (44 degrees C!) the time to read, the free food and lodging... And I try to listen to the conversations around me, to learn from the shmorgasboard of people and perspectives that surround me on this desert island.
The good news is, my passport arrived today and as we speak it is burning a hole in my pocket, awakening the butterflies in my stomach and the ants in my pants (to be as trite as humanly possible)
I plan on leaving Kibbutz this Wednesday, but not before one more tiyul in the sand dunes and a jazz concert on Tuesday night.
Destination? Still not certain... I will keep you posted.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Pictures of Timna National Park
Some updates on my life and ongoing observations about Kibbutz life...
One great beauty of kibbutz life is its simplicity. Clothing and material objects have almost no importance. At synagogue, poeple wear jeans. For birthdays and other occasions, presents aren't offered (there wouldnt be anywhere to buy them) and money is absent from life. Members are provided with everything from toilet paper to soap and sunblock. The joys of life here are simple ones - talking with friends, playing with children. Friday night, we went to a neighboring kibbutz for a pub night. Kibbutznikim from the entire surrounding area had all heard that it was a good night at Kibbutz Grophit. (people are still talking about it two days later.) In borrowed cars and van services, local teenagers, volunteers and soldiers home for shabbat flocked to this open-air bar where we danced to music until 5 am. Everyone was in good spirits. . .
Last night, we went to Eilat... We ate a delicious dinner at the restaurant supplied by the kibbutz's fishing business. We spoiled ourselves and it felt good! We also saw Superman Returns. I don't recommend it, but the movie-going experience is worth mentioning. The spectators chatted through the entire film. The little boy behind me kept asking his father, "Is that superman?" "Why did he do that?" or "What's going to happen?" None of the ISraelis seemed surprised or agitated by the running commentary, and so I ignored it. (no doubt, Ive talked through my share of films!) Half way through the movie, the lights went on - in mid Superman sentence. Cigarette break - 3 minutes. At the end, the lights came back on and the film turned off before the credits even went up. . . It felt like a home-movie experience, but bigger.
Ive been talking to more people about why they choose to live on kibbutzim and why certain ones, at that... The process to become a member (chaver - literally, "friend") is intense and difficult. A candidate at Ketura must work for two years as a volunteer on the kibbutz. They must also pass through 3 stages. A kibbutz-wide vote marks the end of each stage. A potential candidate can work for two years, passing the first two stages, only to be voted out at the end. On this kibbutz, I know of 2 members who are married to people that were rejected by the population. They still live on kibbutz, but must pay for housing, food etc... In one case, the family has twins and, because the father is not a member, only one of their children is considered a member, in spite of the fact that both children were born here. It's tough, and immediately conjures up images of high school popularity contests, but I do understand why the system is this way. Living on a kibbutz comes with an enormous amount of privileges, especially on Keturah. Here, membership includes food, housing, $222 (1000 SHEKS) a month for spending, health care, great schools, even university for the children (about $7000 a year, I think)! At other kibbutzim, members pay for food and many of the other benefits. For raising children, the climate is optimal. Everyone knows the kibbutz kids and watches out for them. There is no lack of social opportunity for the kids and they can roam freely with virtually no dangers. No cars to hit them, no strangers on the premises... the only potential vices are probably what we, the volunteers, bring - in the form of alcohol, and ephemeral dating choices.
I went on two other fantastic excursions last week. Timna National park is nearby. Think of the grand canyon, on a smaller scale. There are 3000 year old Egyptian painting there and the ruins of a temple. We ate dinner with all of the volunteers and hiked up a mountian to watch the sunrise. Gorgeous.
On Wednesday night, I worked for our kibbutz's hotel/hostel business. Local teen groups come and I went with them to a sanddune trip. While the teen tour is roaming the dunes, we set up a classy little desert buffet of falafel, tuna, Israeli salad, and hummous. We built two huge fires and taught the children how to make bedouin style pita bread. yum! It was beautiful to be out in the desert and the drive to the dunes was spectacular. There are so so many stars and the desert feels endless. Guy, who was driving gave us some desert trekking advice, however. Deserted it may seem, but in fact much of the desert is a firing zone where tzalhal - the Israeli army - trains. Don't ever stray off main roads, he warned. And indeed, 10 minutes later, we heard several war planes practicing take off and landing maneuvers.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Herzliya....
This weekend, a fellow kibbutz volunteer invited a few of us to spend Shabbat at his home in Herziliya, a town about 5 km north of Tel Aviv, right on the beach. Alon (our host) is blessed with an American father and French mother which worked out nicely since the visiting party consisted of two Americans and a Frenchman. We spent the day yesterday walking along the beach until we found a more private section along the shore, sheltered by cliffs and algae covered rocks. There, we found that those who shared the beach with us were a more liberal sort. I received (shocking!) my first real sunburn of the summer.
After the beach and a delicious meal at a Chocolate-themed restuarant (Antoinette!) Jeremy and I set out to prepare a French style dinner for 6. We made a decent gratin dauphinois and took pictures to send his mother. A few friends from Kibbutz were in town so we had a Ketura Reunion night. It's been great to get off kibbutz for a few days and back into reality. I will always be more appreciative of two-day weekends after my time here in Israel.
In other news, there seems to be this war and yes, it affects our lives in strange ways.
How do we feel the effects of the war? Mostly, it's psychological; sometimes it's a little funny if you can stomach the dark humor.
A few examples:
Friday night dinner, after noting that Jeremy (french) nor I knew how to say bomb shelter in French, we asked (par hasard) where the bomb shelter was in the building. I had thought, in all honesty, that Hertzliya was out of missile range. Wrong. It hasn't been hit, thank god, but apparently it was an appropriate and wise question. Hello, welcome to our house....Shabbat Shalom...hows the chicken? .. the bomb shelter is down the stairs to your right, if you see the cat, take him wwith you... please pass the rice. Fast forward to the next morning. Sara and I are sitting on the couch sharing some rice when she notices a siren in the background. Uh, Rachel, what's that noise? (Rachel's frozen and nonresponsive.) A tense 10 seconds follows before we realize that the source of our petrification is the neighbor's alarm clock.
Thursday night at Ketura is pub night. The youngings all had to this abandoned warehouse to dance and drink beer in an alternate location. It is the apex of the week and we await it eagerly. This week, however, the pub shut down early. Why? The normal bartender had been called up for reserve duty in Lebanon and taken with him the key to the beer fridge.
On the busride norht, many soldiers were heading north, called up suddenly to immediate posts in northern locations. On Shabbat, with bussed stopped and with few people driving north, they had little idea about how to get to their locations and in some cases lacked specific details about where they needed to be. We sat near two soldiers - one a shlumpy looking 38 year old hotel worker who had been called suddenly and told to pay his own way on the bus. (The army would reimburse him later.) The other, a baby-faced boy who spent the four hour trip on the floor between the seats, spending his last few moments of calm and relative freedom in the dirty aisle of an Egged bus. (He refused to take the seats we offered him, since we had paid for them and as a soldier his ride was free.)
What else? 30 families from up north have joined us on kibbutz. I have spentsome time with a young couple from Tiberias. They are crashing at the kibbutz for now and were technically required to leave on Friday. Alon and Jeremy gave them their roomkey for the weekend and we have plans to put them up as long as need by, even if it's a clandestine approach. There is copious food on the kibbtuz and more than enough extra mattresses around; only kibbutz bureaucracy prevents us from taking in hundreds more refugees. AS volunteers, we want to do what we can to help. In haifa, my friend Yael tells me that sirens go off every half hour, sending workers to bomb shelters and preventing normalcy and productivity at her the workplace. She says she feels silly running up and down the stairs of the bombshelter all day long. A hospital in Haifa has been hit repeatedly and they had to relocate the maternity ward to an interior wing of the building. One peice of advice I've heard more than once is to stay away from North-facing windows. Why? The missiles are coming from that direction. Noted.
How am I feeling? Personally, I am lucky to be out of the fray. The more I read, the more I am understanding and supportive of Israel's reaction. There is very very little Israeli opposition to the government's response, although an anti-war rally took place in Tel Aviv last night. I can't forget that Israel withdrew from Gaza and southern Lebanon in exchange for promioses of peace. I can't forget that Israeli soldiers were taken from inside of Israel. I can't forget that the US, england, France, any country would do the same thing if they were attacked suddenly and unprovoked on their own soil. I can't forget that Israel has to fight for it's very existence and that Jews, without Israel, are a wandering and unwelcomed tribe with no safe place to go. (except maybe the US, for now. ) yes, maybe some members of Israel's government awaited this moment for an excuse to hit Hezbollah, but it seems that as an organization, Hezbollah has spent the last few years building up stockpiles of weapons instead of working on infrastructure, schools or even the Palestinian cause. But what do I know...I am of late overwhelmed by a desire to help. Not that I want to make aliyah, not that I think I could be of much use to the Israeli army.... but I do want to help in some way...
I admire the strength of the Israelis, their resolve to contunus life as normal as much as possible and their acceptance of the continous battle taht alone enables them to keep their country. I am awed by the thousands of new immigrants from the US and Canada that are arriving weekly, leaving behind their calm and successful lives for an unknown beast, were even without war, life can be a headache of bureaucratic disorganization, crappy schools and corruption.
For me, I don't think I could choose this life - maybe I'm lazy, maybe I'm weak, but as much as I love this country and feel a connection to it, I don't feel compelled to move here. It may be my homeland, but it doesn't feel like my home.
This weekend, a fellow kibbutz volunteer invited a few of us to spend Shabbat at his home in Herziliya, a town about 5 km north of Tel Aviv, right on the beach. Alon (our host) is blessed with an American father and French mother which worked out nicely since the visiting party consisted of two Americans and a Frenchman. We spent the day yesterday walking along the beach until we found a more private section along the shore, sheltered by cliffs and algae covered rocks. There, we found that those who shared the beach with us were a more liberal sort. I received (shocking!) my first real sunburn of the summer.
After the beach and a delicious meal at a Chocolate-themed restuarant (Antoinette!) Jeremy and I set out to prepare a French style dinner for 6. We made a decent gratin dauphinois and took pictures to send his mother. A few friends from Kibbutz were in town so we had a Ketura Reunion night. It's been great to get off kibbutz for a few days and back into reality. I will always be more appreciative of two-day weekends after my time here in Israel.
In other news, there seems to be this war and yes, it affects our lives in strange ways.
How do we feel the effects of the war? Mostly, it's psychological; sometimes it's a little funny if you can stomach the dark humor.
A few examples:
Friday night dinner, after noting that Jeremy (french) nor I knew how to say bomb shelter in French, we asked (par hasard) where the bomb shelter was in the building. I had thought, in all honesty, that Hertzliya was out of missile range. Wrong. It hasn't been hit, thank god, but apparently it was an appropriate and wise question. Hello, welcome to our house....Shabbat Shalom...hows the chicken? .. the bomb shelter is down the stairs to your right, if you see the cat, take him wwith you... please pass the rice. Fast forward to the next morning. Sara and I are sitting on the couch sharing some rice when she notices a siren in the background. Uh, Rachel, what's that noise? (Rachel's frozen and nonresponsive.) A tense 10 seconds follows before we realize that the source of our petrification is the neighbor's alarm clock.
Thursday night at Ketura is pub night. The youngings all had to this abandoned warehouse to dance and drink beer in an alternate location. It is the apex of the week and we await it eagerly. This week, however, the pub shut down early. Why? The normal bartender had been called up for reserve duty in Lebanon and taken with him the key to the beer fridge.
On the busride norht, many soldiers were heading north, called up suddenly to immediate posts in northern locations. On Shabbat, with bussed stopped and with few people driving north, they had little idea about how to get to their locations and in some cases lacked specific details about where they needed to be. We sat near two soldiers - one a shlumpy looking 38 year old hotel worker who had been called suddenly and told to pay his own way on the bus. (The army would reimburse him later.) The other, a baby-faced boy who spent the four hour trip on the floor between the seats, spending his last few moments of calm and relative freedom in the dirty aisle of an Egged bus. (He refused to take the seats we offered him, since we had paid for them and as a soldier his ride was free.)
What else? 30 families from up north have joined us on kibbutz. I have spentsome time with a young couple from Tiberias. They are crashing at the kibbutz for now and were technically required to leave on Friday. Alon and Jeremy gave them their roomkey for the weekend and we have plans to put them up as long as need by, even if it's a clandestine approach. There is copious food on the kibbtuz and more than enough extra mattresses around; only kibbutz bureaucracy prevents us from taking in hundreds more refugees. AS volunteers, we want to do what we can to help. In haifa, my friend Yael tells me that sirens go off every half hour, sending workers to bomb shelters and preventing normalcy and productivity at her the workplace. She says she feels silly running up and down the stairs of the bombshelter all day long. A hospital in Haifa has been hit repeatedly and they had to relocate the maternity ward to an interior wing of the building. One peice of advice I've heard more than once is to stay away from North-facing windows. Why? The missiles are coming from that direction. Noted.
How am I feeling? Personally, I am lucky to be out of the fray. The more I read, the more I am understanding and supportive of Israel's reaction. There is very very little Israeli opposition to the government's response, although an anti-war rally took place in Tel Aviv last night. I can't forget that Israel withdrew from Gaza and southern Lebanon in exchange for promioses of peace. I can't forget that Israeli soldiers were taken from inside of Israel. I can't forget that the US, england, France, any country would do the same thing if they were attacked suddenly and unprovoked on their own soil. I can't forget that Israel has to fight for it's very existence and that Jews, without Israel, are a wandering and unwelcomed tribe with no safe place to go. (except maybe the US, for now. ) yes, maybe some members of Israel's government awaited this moment for an excuse to hit Hezbollah, but it seems that as an organization, Hezbollah has spent the last few years building up stockpiles of weapons instead of working on infrastructure, schools or even the Palestinian cause. But what do I know...I am of late overwhelmed by a desire to help. Not that I want to make aliyah, not that I think I could be of much use to the Israeli army.... but I do want to help in some way...
I admire the strength of the Israelis, their resolve to contunus life as normal as much as possible and their acceptance of the continous battle taht alone enables them to keep their country. I am awed by the thousands of new immigrants from the US and Canada that are arriving weekly, leaving behind their calm and successful lives for an unknown beast, were even without war, life can be a headache of bureaucratic disorganization, crappy schools and corruption.
For me, I don't think I could choose this life - maybe I'm lazy, maybe I'm weak, but as much as I love this country and feel a connection to it, I don't feel compelled to move here. It may be my homeland, but it doesn't feel like my home.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
War... (This is a dark entry, I apologize - and it really only looks at one issue, one aspect of life here, one side of the coin.)
Every day around 9:30 am, I take a walk to get the paper. Today, as I was erring about, I ran into Leo, a kid (18) who had stopped by kibbutz for the weekend. He turned out to be the same guy who built the porch outside my house. We had a beer at some point and chatted a little. THis morning, as I went to get coffee and the paper, he passed me in full uniform, machine gun over his arm. His commander had called him and ordered him back to base immediately. He told me that he was going to Ramallah, thank god, and that he didn't think he would be sent up north because he hasn't finished training. We hugged and then he walked off. Ramallah...lucky. (this is a city in the west bank that is mostly arab; a week ago, it would hardly have struck me as a lucky place to be stationed.)
In the Ketura bubble, I am completely safe. The security is not a facade, not an illusion. Neither Hammas nor Hezbollah has the technology to fire rockets here, nor can I think of any military advantage to bombing a bunch of baby boomer anglo hippies in the middle of the desert. With that out of the way, (and thank you to my grandparents for worrying about me! :) I want to talk a little about my observations and conversations regarding the war and Israelis in general. Again, blah blah apologizies for sweeping generalizations and all that. . . I am but one set of eyes and ears writing my thoughts at this moment (on which I am very tired, too!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Israeli's military philophy makes sense if you understand the whole sabra concept. Native Israelis are often called "sabra" after a fruit that is very hard on the outside and very soft and sweet on the inside.
Israelis are indeed tough people to love and tough to get to know, especially on kibbutz where it seems like the only time an Israeli talks to you, it's becuase he wants something else. In reference to terrorism, Israelis often say, "I am not scared. I just don't think about it. Of course I take busses, of course I eat at crowded bars or cafes." I don't think this is entirely true. This is, however, what Israelis need to say. To admit fear, to back down at all, is defeat. This tough facade is the only reason that Israel still exists. I read an article a day or two ago about the hubris of Israel. Yes, this war does seem a lot like a contest of look how big my guns are, look how badass our troops are. Israel and Israelis strike me as reactionary. Their response is about looking tough, about looking unafraid about never being on the defensive. Having 3 hostages taken in a few weeks makes the country look weak or uninformed. Israel can't have that! That would expose a crack in the tough sabra shell.
So where is the warm mushy inside? Well...Israelis may be more scared than most of them want to admit. The existence of the country is precarious and new. Imagine living somewhere and not knowing if the government, the infrastructure, your home were really going to survive. Without the strong army, Jewish Israelis would have long ago been slaughtered or forced into another exile. I've never heard someone here talk about this possibility, but I think it must be there somewhere - a little tickle in the back of everyone's mind.
What else is soft and mushy? Well... Israelis, especially those who go to the army, are largely pretty lax about religion. Many don't believe in G-d and note the fighting, the death and the division that religion causes. Still, they are culturally and nationally Jewish and I think that Shabbat dinners, holiday traditions and Jewish national songs are more important to them than they realize. Judaism here is easy to overlook, easy to take for granted. I am still amazed that Lag B;'omer is a national holiday - that everyone from the P.M. to the petty criminals here have probably fasted on Yom Kippur or been Bar Mitzbvad. (At the every least, they know what these are)
I spent most a lot of time this weekend talking with two Israelis - both just out of the army, both just out of combat units. I learned a little about what being in the army is like... Your life is not yours - you have several cell phones and need to be ready for anything. Often times, a soldier will (finally!) go home for the weekend after 3, 4 or 5 weeks of duty... but, as they step in the door and sit down for a real meal, they can be called straight back to duty - immediately. It's amazing what an 18, 20, 22 year old guy has seen and done here. My roommate and I both spent long hours talking with two young guys the other night and I was struck by how unfamiliar the conversations were. They seem normal as they're tkaing place, but only with a few hours reflection does it begin to strike me as extra-ordinary that I can sit with a guy 3 years younger than me and while I may have stories about Moroccan train rides, he can tell about his commander dying in his arms, about what it feels like to kill someone, about how scared he is to be called back to reserve duty - and how about that will mess up his travel plans. "Oh well," my friend Guy said to me this morning. "I guess we won't be meeting up in India this time..." resignation. While American buys as 22 (and 30) play video games, guys here talk about difference kinds of machine guns and how they learned to shoot them. Walking down a crowded street, as you pass a soldier, it's not unusual to get tapped in the leg by a gun.
With all the discipline and control from the army, it is no wonder that Israeli men (and women) go wild after the army. It takes no stretching of the imagination to understand why sleeping around, heavy drugs or travelling to third world countries hardly seems risky. The fragility of life is all too real here. The signicance of now isn't take for granted.
Many Israelis are worried now about being called up for reserve duty. Few of them would say that they don't want to go.
So what is the mood here on kibbutz? Three volunteers (age 18) are heading to Greece on their parents' bill. Otherwise, we discuss what;'s going on, but - although it's only about as far away as Boston is to NYC - it seems as distant as it does when I am reading the paper in NY. For the volunteers little has changed - our world still consists of pub nights, the pool, guitar playing and cards. The Israelis seems tense. They are constantly listening to the radio and watching TV. Announcements can be made in codes on the television to signal that certain troops have to report to duty. People are depressed, resigned and mostly just sick of fighting. "It's war." I've heard more than a few people say, and then sigh, and then look down, and then continue with their job. People don;'t seem to think that an end is near. 6 months, maybe, I;'ve heard. "You can forget about going to Tsfat." I've also heard. Tel Aviv, too, feels like it will be the next target. News of attacks comes quickly and spreads quickly - we know within an hour when another bomb hits Haifa. People are calling friends and families up north, bomb shelters are in use and busses south are hard to come by. But here, it just feels like I;'m relaying facts. The only physical evidence here is in the creases on people's foreheads, the blaring radios and the sad, resigned look that comes across faces as I catch a kibbutznik staring off for a moment.
Every day around 9:30 am, I take a walk to get the paper. Today, as I was erring about, I ran into Leo, a kid (18) who had stopped by kibbutz for the weekend. He turned out to be the same guy who built the porch outside my house. We had a beer at some point and chatted a little. THis morning, as I went to get coffee and the paper, he passed me in full uniform, machine gun over his arm. His commander had called him and ordered him back to base immediately. He told me that he was going to Ramallah, thank god, and that he didn't think he would be sent up north because he hasn't finished training. We hugged and then he walked off. Ramallah...lucky. (this is a city in the west bank that is mostly arab; a week ago, it would hardly have struck me as a lucky place to be stationed.)
In the Ketura bubble, I am completely safe. The security is not a facade, not an illusion. Neither Hammas nor Hezbollah has the technology to fire rockets here, nor can I think of any military advantage to bombing a bunch of baby boomer anglo hippies in the middle of the desert. With that out of the way, (and thank you to my grandparents for worrying about me! :) I want to talk a little about my observations and conversations regarding the war and Israelis in general. Again, blah blah apologizies for sweeping generalizations and all that. . . I am but one set of eyes and ears writing my thoughts at this moment (on which I am very tired, too!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Israeli's military philophy makes sense if you understand the whole sabra concept. Native Israelis are often called "sabra" after a fruit that is very hard on the outside and very soft and sweet on the inside.
Israelis are indeed tough people to love and tough to get to know, especially on kibbutz where it seems like the only time an Israeli talks to you, it's becuase he wants something else. In reference to terrorism, Israelis often say, "I am not scared. I just don't think about it. Of course I take busses, of course I eat at crowded bars or cafes." I don't think this is entirely true. This is, however, what Israelis need to say. To admit fear, to back down at all, is defeat. This tough facade is the only reason that Israel still exists. I read an article a day or two ago about the hubris of Israel. Yes, this war does seem a lot like a contest of look how big my guns are, look how badass our troops are. Israel and Israelis strike me as reactionary. Their response is about looking tough, about looking unafraid about never being on the defensive. Having 3 hostages taken in a few weeks makes the country look weak or uninformed. Israel can't have that! That would expose a crack in the tough sabra shell.
So where is the warm mushy inside? Well...Israelis may be more scared than most of them want to admit. The existence of the country is precarious and new. Imagine living somewhere and not knowing if the government, the infrastructure, your home were really going to survive. Without the strong army, Jewish Israelis would have long ago been slaughtered or forced into another exile. I've never heard someone here talk about this possibility, but I think it must be there somewhere - a little tickle in the back of everyone's mind.
What else is soft and mushy? Well... Israelis, especially those who go to the army, are largely pretty lax about religion. Many don't believe in G-d and note the fighting, the death and the division that religion causes. Still, they are culturally and nationally Jewish and I think that Shabbat dinners, holiday traditions and Jewish national songs are more important to them than they realize. Judaism here is easy to overlook, easy to take for granted. I am still amazed that Lag B;'omer is a national holiday - that everyone from the P.M. to the petty criminals here have probably fasted on Yom Kippur or been Bar Mitzbvad. (At the every least, they know what these are)
I spent most a lot of time this weekend talking with two Israelis - both just out of the army, both just out of combat units. I learned a little about what being in the army is like... Your life is not yours - you have several cell phones and need to be ready for anything. Often times, a soldier will (finally!) go home for the weekend after 3, 4 or 5 weeks of duty... but, as they step in the door and sit down for a real meal, they can be called straight back to duty - immediately. It's amazing what an 18, 20, 22 year old guy has seen and done here. My roommate and I both spent long hours talking with two young guys the other night and I was struck by how unfamiliar the conversations were. They seem normal as they're tkaing place, but only with a few hours reflection does it begin to strike me as extra-ordinary that I can sit with a guy 3 years younger than me and while I may have stories about Moroccan train rides, he can tell about his commander dying in his arms, about what it feels like to kill someone, about how scared he is to be called back to reserve duty - and how about that will mess up his travel plans. "Oh well," my friend Guy said to me this morning. "I guess we won't be meeting up in India this time..." resignation. While American buys as 22 (and 30) play video games, guys here talk about difference kinds of machine guns and how they learned to shoot them. Walking down a crowded street, as you pass a soldier, it's not unusual to get tapped in the leg by a gun.
With all the discipline and control from the army, it is no wonder that Israeli men (and women) go wild after the army. It takes no stretching of the imagination to understand why sleeping around, heavy drugs or travelling to third world countries hardly seems risky. The fragility of life is all too real here. The signicance of now isn't take for granted.
Many Israelis are worried now about being called up for reserve duty. Few of them would say that they don't want to go.
So what is the mood here on kibbutz? Three volunteers (age 18) are heading to Greece on their parents' bill. Otherwise, we discuss what;'s going on, but - although it's only about as far away as Boston is to NYC - it seems as distant as it does when I am reading the paper in NY. For the volunteers little has changed - our world still consists of pub nights, the pool, guitar playing and cards. The Israelis seems tense. They are constantly listening to the radio and watching TV. Announcements can be made in codes on the television to signal that certain troops have to report to duty. People are depressed, resigned and mostly just sick of fighting. "It's war." I've heard more than a few people say, and then sigh, and then look down, and then continue with their job. People don;'t seem to think that an end is near. 6 months, maybe, I;'ve heard. "You can forget about going to Tsfat." I've also heard. Tel Aviv, too, feels like it will be the next target. News of attacks comes quickly and spreads quickly - we know within an hour when another bomb hits Haifa. People are calling friends and families up north, bomb shelters are in use and busses south are hard to come by. But here, it just feels like I;'m relaying facts. The only physical evidence here is in the creases on people's foreheads, the blaring radios and the sad, resigned look that comes across faces as I catch a kibbutznik staring off for a moment.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Hiking, at last...
On Saturday (July 8) at 2 in the afternoon, Joanna and I left with Josh (a soldier "adopted" by the kibbutz because he is orignially from England) for a long, hot walk. People told us we were slightly insane to walk the 2 km to the next kibbutz, Grofit. I thought, 2 km, that's nothing, we'll be there in 15 minutes. Right. Well, I still don't quite understand the physics of it, since everyone still swears it's only 2K, but I assure you it took us an hour to walk each way. The walk, is a long, hot haul straight down the highway. You can see both kibbutzim the entire way, and neither changes size as we walked step by step toward our desitantion. The scenery, traffic signs, litter and honking cars was uninspiring, but our motivation and conversation made for a memorable and worthwhile journey. Josh served for a year in Hebron and told some interesting anecdotes from his time there... (a city, which he pointed out is occupied for the 500 Jewish settlers who live there among thousands of Arabs.)
When we arrived at the Kibbutz, we climbed the fence and asked a local man where we could find water. he sent us down a shady-looking path. Eventually, we came across a packing house and found water. We watched some of the Thai workers haul barrels of grain around the warehouse. (I guess they 're not shomer shabbat.) Thai workers wear clothing from head to toe, covering their eyes and hands as well. In Thai culture, apparently, dark skin is a sign of low status so the workers stay covered to avoid tanning.
Anywaty, after a few botlles of water, we trekked back and dove right into the pool., feeling proud of our selves. There is nothing like a 2 and a half hour walk down the highway. in 115 defree heat!
Last night a few of us went hiking in the desert to "the huts." These are fully equipped desert abodes made by bored kibbuz teenagers. The one we went to was about 20-30 minutes away. There was a stone archway as we approached and then the hut which was tall enough to stand up and walk around inside of it. The floor and couches were covered with blankets and the roof was made from palm leaves and wood. There was a table, a stove, a stone pit to make fires and a large round iron pan for making real pita bread. The table was fitted with a nargila (of course) and, above us, about 10 feet higher was the "bedroom." Here, overlooking the sunset, Jordan, and 3 local kibbutzim, were several mattresses and another couch.
You can, of course, guess the true motivation behind the structure's conception, but for a dinner among friends it was quite perfect. (and we all kept our clothes on!)
We did make a fire and enjoyed a dinner of pita, veggies and hummous. For dessert there was this "airy" chocolate that was amazing and chocolate milk. NExt time, I want ot spend the night out there, but we had to get back in time to watch Zidane make an ass of himself.
Anyway, it was the highlight of my trip thus far and I remembered just how much I love being outside. There isn't much alone time here. It's amazing to get out in the desert and just listen to the overwhelming silence. Yuo can hear the buzzing of the power lines clearly, but once you get a km or so awway, the wind is the only sound. The kibbutz looks tiny and you realize how isolated the village is. Its isolation form a distance highlights the true insignificance of the issues that arise in our daily lives there.
Other interesting updates:
A french guy who studies in Marseille arrived yesterday. He came just in time to watch France lose, but at least I had company amid the overwhelming support for Italy.
A new girl, Karen, arrived and she is from Newton. She rented a house for a year on Cross HIll Road, of all places! She is friends with Kiri, a girl who lived at Sara Rubin's house. Crazy coincidence for those of you who know these people/places.
Oh! I've made this crazy observation. The New York Times' and the American media's coverage of Israel is way different *(I didn't say biased, I am only trying to imply that) from the Israeli coverage in Ha'Aretz. And it's not what you think. Now that I've become a dedicated newspaper reader, I am aghast at what I am reading about Gaza. Israel is doing some pretty indefensible things and the Israeli press, of all things, has made me rethink a lot of my ideas about his country. So has the book I am reading about the founding of Israel. It's called O'Jerusalem and it's quite respected in the community here. I am still thankful for Israel and thinkit has every right to exist. But the territories...that's a differnt story. Let me add, here, that these are my thoughts at 8:53 PM on July 10th, 2006. Subject to change at any moment!
Finally, I'm taking a wholly selfish poll...please respond to rachel.olsteiN@gmail.com
This weekend, should I:
1) stay here and attend the Bar Mitzvah of the son of one of my favorite kibbutz members. She is Columbian there will be great music and great food!
2) Go to Jerusalem and stay with a friend there and possibly meet up with 4 or 5 of my USYers from Connecticut. Adina, who I ran into on Kibbutz, invited me to spend shabbat and her birthday with them.
3) Go to Petra in Jordan with 3 other people from here. (I've already been, but don't remember that much since it was 10 years ago.)
On Saturday (July 8) at 2 in the afternoon, Joanna and I left with Josh (a soldier "adopted" by the kibbutz because he is orignially from England) for a long, hot walk. People told us we were slightly insane to walk the 2 km to the next kibbutz, Grofit. I thought, 2 km, that's nothing, we'll be there in 15 minutes. Right. Well, I still don't quite understand the physics of it, since everyone still swears it's only 2K, but I assure you it took us an hour to walk each way. The walk, is a long, hot haul straight down the highway. You can see both kibbutzim the entire way, and neither changes size as we walked step by step toward our desitantion. The scenery, traffic signs, litter and honking cars was uninspiring, but our motivation and conversation made for a memorable and worthwhile journey. Josh served for a year in Hebron and told some interesting anecdotes from his time there... (a city, which he pointed out is occupied for the 500 Jewish settlers who live there among thousands of Arabs.)
When we arrived at the Kibbutz, we climbed the fence and asked a local man where we could find water. he sent us down a shady-looking path. Eventually, we came across a packing house and found water. We watched some of the Thai workers haul barrels of grain around the warehouse. (I guess they 're not shomer shabbat.) Thai workers wear clothing from head to toe, covering their eyes and hands as well. In Thai culture, apparently, dark skin is a sign of low status so the workers stay covered to avoid tanning.
Anywaty, after a few botlles of water, we trekked back and dove right into the pool., feeling proud of our selves. There is nothing like a 2 and a half hour walk down the highway. in 115 defree heat!
Last night a few of us went hiking in the desert to "the huts." These are fully equipped desert abodes made by bored kibbuz teenagers. The one we went to was about 20-30 minutes away. There was a stone archway as we approached and then the hut which was tall enough to stand up and walk around inside of it. The floor and couches were covered with blankets and the roof was made from palm leaves and wood. There was a table, a stove, a stone pit to make fires and a large round iron pan for making real pita bread. The table was fitted with a nargila (of course) and, above us, about 10 feet higher was the "bedroom." Here, overlooking the sunset, Jordan, and 3 local kibbutzim, were several mattresses and another couch.
You can, of course, guess the true motivation behind the structure's conception, but for a dinner among friends it was quite perfect. (and we all kept our clothes on!)
We did make a fire and enjoyed a dinner of pita, veggies and hummous. For dessert there was this "airy" chocolate that was amazing and chocolate milk. NExt time, I want ot spend the night out there, but we had to get back in time to watch Zidane make an ass of himself.
Anyway, it was the highlight of my trip thus far and I remembered just how much I love being outside. There isn't much alone time here. It's amazing to get out in the desert and just listen to the overwhelming silence. Yuo can hear the buzzing of the power lines clearly, but once you get a km or so awway, the wind is the only sound. The kibbutz looks tiny and you realize how isolated the village is. Its isolation form a distance highlights the true insignificance of the issues that arise in our daily lives there.
Other interesting updates:
A french guy who studies in Marseille arrived yesterday. He came just in time to watch France lose, but at least I had company amid the overwhelming support for Italy.
A new girl, Karen, arrived and she is from Newton. She rented a house for a year on Cross HIll Road, of all places! She is friends with Kiri, a girl who lived at Sara Rubin's house. Crazy coincidence for those of you who know these people/places.
Oh! I've made this crazy observation. The New York Times' and the American media's coverage of Israel is way different *(I didn't say biased, I am only trying to imply that) from the Israeli coverage in Ha'Aretz. And it's not what you think. Now that I've become a dedicated newspaper reader, I am aghast at what I am reading about Gaza. Israel is doing some pretty indefensible things and the Israeli press, of all things, has made me rethink a lot of my ideas about his country. So has the book I am reading about the founding of Israel. It's called O'Jerusalem and it's quite respected in the community here. I am still thankful for Israel and thinkit has every right to exist. But the territories...that's a differnt story. Let me add, here, that these are my thoughts at 8:53 PM on July 10th, 2006. Subject to change at any moment!
Finally, I'm taking a wholly selfish poll...please respond to rachel.olsteiN@gmail.com
This weekend, should I:
1) stay here and attend the Bar Mitzvah of the son of one of my favorite kibbutz members. She is Columbian there will be great music and great food!
2) Go to Jerusalem and stay with a friend there and possibly meet up with 4 or 5 of my USYers from Connecticut. Adina, who I ran into on Kibbutz, invited me to spend shabbat and her birthday with them.
3) Go to Petra in Jordan with 3 other people from here. (I've already been, but don't remember that much since it was 10 years ago.)
Friday, July 07, 2006
Reflections on Kibbutz Ketura...
Before I get philosophical, let me add that I am totally safe and that I haven't even stepped foot off kibbutz in almost a week, although tonight we plan to walk to another kibbutz 3 KM away where there is an outdoor pub. Next week I may to Jerusalem to meet up with some of my Hanefesh USYers. I ran into one here and it's her birthday next weekend so I'd like to be there. Plus, it would be nice to have a that nostalgic Shabbat experience. Here, a group of young South Americans have just arrived. They are on a leadership program for the year after high school, like YJ year course or nativ and they're pretty mature. Plus, I think they should bring a good spirit to shabbat.
I-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ve been here about 10 days, and have had some time to observe, listen to and semi-participate in Kibbutz life. Of course my reflections come with the acknowledgement that they are b ased only on this kibbutz, on the interactions that I have happened to have, on the people with whom chance has placed me in contact with
Back to my thoughts...
This kibbutz is a pretty strict one in terms of its socialist philosophy. No one is allowed to own a car or have an extra television. In order to get a third bedroom in your house, you need to have 4 or more children. Money is of little use. Wait, no use...Everyone has an account at the little kibbutz market. Everyone takes turns helping in the dining hall. The members, many of them immigrants from affluent American and British families, well educated and former professionals, now spend their days folding laundry, cleaning floors, milking cows and gardening. The kibbutz is beautiful and incredible safe. It is, in the familiar words of a friend of mine, "a bubble." (so as not to digress, I may write more on this another day, as it is so so reminiscent of another bubble I once lived in!) Anyway, lacking any real problems, lacking any real ambitions in the Capitalist sense, the people are utterly happy, right? Everyone walks around smiling and singing, right?
Well.... Not exactly.
Instead, there seems to be an epidemic of gossip that would put any middle schooler to shame. The volunteers, it seems, get dragged into this cycle from time to time and (thankfully) my two coworkers made it very clear from day one that what goes on in my job, must stay there. No talking about work, or what we talk about at work, outside of work. It's a strict rule and they're very serious. It's necessary.
My roommate made another interesting observation. On this kibbutz, no one is worried or thinking about their career; this causes two problems that I have noticed. 1) a visible dearth of things to talk about (hence the gossip) and 2) a certain level of accepted misery because the members spend all day doing something that they don't truly enjoy. This, I think, may be at the heart of the issue. Uninspired by their work, people seem wary of their daily existenec and somewhat depressed. When you pass many of the membrs (all of whom are familiar faces by now) many of them infamously won't say hello. I have been pitted between families at times, and some of the volunteers complain about the grumpiness of their bosses at the hotel and in the dining hall.
Kibbutzim are a beautiful idea, but - and perhaps especially because most of the poeple here come from a Capitalist background - they require a totally different mindset and one that just doesn't quite work with the rest of the modern world. This kibbutz seems to have its eyes closed to environmental issues, in spite of the presenec of the Arava Institute on campus! Many hated jobs are given to volunteers and to cheap workers from Thailand who also work here. In fact, I've heard it said that without the cheap outside labor, the kibbutz wouldnt be sustainable. hmmmm...
True, as my friend pointed out today, kibbutzim try to mirror how communties may have functioned many years ago. One is forced to face problems, and people; there is nowhere to run and hide, no chance to avoid the unwanted confrontation. The members here, however, have had a taste of the modern world, and they haven't all shed the mentalities of their other lives. Sometimes, it seems, they could use a little time a way, an escape from the bubble, or a chance to do simething that gives them a warm and fuzzy sense of good ol' American achievement. Kibbutzim may be utopian, mbut I'm not sure its utopia for those who have already tasted the apple.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contrary to the implications of this email, I am enjoying my time here - in fact, it gets better each day. I am trying to find some sort of routine so that I will get more writing done and perhaps some exercise, but for the most part it's pretty damn cool to read, swim and do crossword puzzles for hours on end. Plus, while many of the conversations with the volunteers have themes of drinking, dating and drugs, there is often a refreshing or inspirational conversation - and it always seems to come just when I need it, and when I am least expecting it. I think everyone has a deeper side and it's sort of fun to slowly get to know all the people here and discover their perspectives, ideas and stories.
Before I get philosophical, let me add that I am totally safe and that I haven't even stepped foot off kibbutz in almost a week, although tonight we plan to walk to another kibbutz 3 KM away where there is an outdoor pub. Next week I may to Jerusalem to meet up with some of my Hanefesh USYers. I ran into one here and it's her birthday next weekend so I'd like to be there. Plus, it would be nice to have a that nostalgic Shabbat experience. Here, a group of young South Americans have just arrived. They are on a leadership program for the year after high school, like YJ year course or nativ and they're pretty mature. Plus, I think they should bring a good spirit to shabbat.
I-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ve been here about 10 days, and have had some time to observe, listen to and semi-participate in Kibbutz life. Of course my reflections come with the acknowledgement that they are b ased only on this kibbutz, on the interactions that I have happened to have, on the people with whom chance has placed me in contact with
Back to my thoughts...
This kibbutz is a pretty strict one in terms of its socialist philosophy. No one is allowed to own a car or have an extra television. In order to get a third bedroom in your house, you need to have 4 or more children. Money is of little use. Wait, no use...Everyone has an account at the little kibbutz market. Everyone takes turns helping in the dining hall. The members, many of them immigrants from affluent American and British families, well educated and former professionals, now spend their days folding laundry, cleaning floors, milking cows and gardening. The kibbutz is beautiful and incredible safe. It is, in the familiar words of a friend of mine, "a bubble." (so as not to digress, I may write more on this another day, as it is so so reminiscent of another bubble I once lived in!) Anyway, lacking any real problems, lacking any real ambitions in the Capitalist sense, the people are utterly happy, right? Everyone walks around smiling and singing, right?
Well.... Not exactly.
Instead, there seems to be an epidemic of gossip that would put any middle schooler to shame. The volunteers, it seems, get dragged into this cycle from time to time and (thankfully) my two coworkers made it very clear from day one that what goes on in my job, must stay there. No talking about work, or what we talk about at work, outside of work. It's a strict rule and they're very serious. It's necessary.
My roommate made another interesting observation. On this kibbutz, no one is worried or thinking about their career; this causes two problems that I have noticed. 1) a visible dearth of things to talk about (hence the gossip) and 2) a certain level of accepted misery because the members spend all day doing something that they don't truly enjoy. This, I think, may be at the heart of the issue. Uninspired by their work, people seem wary of their daily existenec and somewhat depressed. When you pass many of the membrs (all of whom are familiar faces by now) many of them infamously won't say hello. I have been pitted between families at times, and some of the volunteers complain about the grumpiness of their bosses at the hotel and in the dining hall.
Kibbutzim are a beautiful idea, but - and perhaps especially because most of the poeple here come from a Capitalist background - they require a totally different mindset and one that just doesn't quite work with the rest of the modern world. This kibbutz seems to have its eyes closed to environmental issues, in spite of the presenec of the Arava Institute on campus! Many hated jobs are given to volunteers and to cheap workers from Thailand who also work here. In fact, I've heard it said that without the cheap outside labor, the kibbutz wouldnt be sustainable. hmmmm...
True, as my friend pointed out today, kibbutzim try to mirror how communties may have functioned many years ago. One is forced to face problems, and people; there is nowhere to run and hide, no chance to avoid the unwanted confrontation. The members here, however, have had a taste of the modern world, and they haven't all shed the mentalities of their other lives. Sometimes, it seems, they could use a little time a way, an escape from the bubble, or a chance to do simething that gives them a warm and fuzzy sense of good ol' American achievement. Kibbutzim may be utopian, mbut I'm not sure its utopia for those who have already tasted the apple.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contrary to the implications of this email, I am enjoying my time here - in fact, it gets better each day. I am trying to find some sort of routine so that I will get more writing done and perhaps some exercise, but for the most part it's pretty damn cool to read, swim and do crossword puzzles for hours on end. Plus, while many of the conversations with the volunteers have themes of drinking, dating and drugs, there is often a refreshing or inspirational conversation - and it always seems to come just when I need it, and when I am least expecting it. I think everyone has a deeper side and it's sort of fun to slowly get to know all the people here and discover their perspectives, ideas and stories.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Baobab...
My job on Kibbutz is babysitting at the Baobab house, where there are 7 children. They are all about 1 year old. . . I am very lucky to have this job and many of the volunteers ar ejealous... I'm not even sure how I was able to talk my way into it; I told the director that I am a teacher and that I understand Hebrew (something I realize now was quite the embellishment!) Whastever the reason, I get to spend 8 or so hours a day with the little children. Two women from outside of the kibbutz are hired to run the day care with the help of a few kibbutz members. They speak only Hebrew! I am learning new vocabulary every day -especially such crucual words as bottle, pacifier and a poopy diaper. . . In all honesty though, I am really happy to have the opportunity to work this shift. The other jobs on kibbutz all work with English speakers .
A day in the life (so far...)
I arrive at work at 7:30. The children's parents drop off the kids at some tiem before 8 o'clock. Then, we go on a tiyul - a field trip that thus far has meabnt pushing the children in rolling playpens a few hundred meters to a shady spot near the center of the kibbutz "downtown?" The children play in the grass and we try to keep them away from dog poop and the giant beetles that litter the ground - these beetles lay their eggs and then die, helplessly on their backs. Nice life.
After the tiyul, we play some more and then the children get their first bottle. We change them and from 9 until 10 they take a nap. 10-11:30 is sort of the long haul. We have two or three activities - musical instruments, then reading, then maybe the "gym" equipmnent, the sandbox or some balls. I roll around on the rug a whole lot and make funyn noises - mostly beacuse my Hebrew is so limited that saying "aryeh, come here." or "Moshe, where is the blue ball?" gets old very quickly.
Lunch is a lot of fun! There is a three course meal. Potatoes and carrots, then pasta and then meat. We cut the food up into tiny pieces and sit aorund the table, eating with our hands. I mean, the children do... We feed them if they need help. After lunch, we play some more, change the children's clothes and put them in for an afternoon nap. Sometimes, their parents stop by and play during their lunch breaks. The kids nap again from 1:00 until 3-ish (while I go get lunch in the dining hall) and at 4 their parents come to pick them up.
And there is a day in my life on kibbutz. While the children sleep, we talk, clean and read a bit. I can sometimes get the newspaper or make a phone call or two.
In the afternoons here, we are free to swim, eat, nap, go to Eilat, go to the nearby kibbutzim or hike. Often it is too hot to easily find the motivation to do much. Still, I am trying to organize a hike up to the mountains west of the kibbutz. There is a large chanukiah on the top and from there you can watch the sunset over Jordan.
All is well. I am relaxed, not bored, and enjoying the opportunity to read. I finished Lolita and am now reading O' Jerusalem. The Hebrew learning is going slow and steadily... still haven't found a guitar to borrow easily... As for the fellow volunteers, I'll withhold my judgement. Many of them are 18 and extremely excited about the constant flow of teen tours that come to this kibbutz for 3 or 4 day visits.
More soon...
Write ! ! !
--> R
My job on Kibbutz is babysitting at the Baobab house, where there are 7 children. They are all about 1 year old. . . I am very lucky to have this job and many of the volunteers ar ejealous... I'm not even sure how I was able to talk my way into it; I told the director that I am a teacher and that I understand Hebrew (something I realize now was quite the embellishment!) Whastever the reason, I get to spend 8 or so hours a day with the little children. Two women from outside of the kibbutz are hired to run the day care with the help of a few kibbutz members. They speak only Hebrew! I am learning new vocabulary every day -especially such crucual words as bottle, pacifier and a poopy diaper. . . In all honesty though, I am really happy to have the opportunity to work this shift. The other jobs on kibbutz all work with English speakers .
A day in the life (so far...)
I arrive at work at 7:30. The children's parents drop off the kids at some tiem before 8 o'clock. Then, we go on a tiyul - a field trip that thus far has meabnt pushing the children in rolling playpens a few hundred meters to a shady spot near the center of the kibbutz "downtown?" The children play in the grass and we try to keep them away from dog poop and the giant beetles that litter the ground - these beetles lay their eggs and then die, helplessly on their backs. Nice life.
After the tiyul, we play some more and then the children get their first bottle. We change them and from 9 until 10 they take a nap. 10-11:30 is sort of the long haul. We have two or three activities - musical instruments, then reading, then maybe the "gym" equipmnent, the sandbox or some balls. I roll around on the rug a whole lot and make funyn noises - mostly beacuse my Hebrew is so limited that saying "aryeh, come here." or "Moshe, where is the blue ball?" gets old very quickly.
Lunch is a lot of fun! There is a three course meal. Potatoes and carrots, then pasta and then meat. We cut the food up into tiny pieces and sit aorund the table, eating with our hands. I mean, the children do... We feed them if they need help. After lunch, we play some more, change the children's clothes and put them in for an afternoon nap. Sometimes, their parents stop by and play during their lunch breaks. The kids nap again from 1:00 until 3-ish (while I go get lunch in the dining hall) and at 4 their parents come to pick them up.
And there is a day in my life on kibbutz. While the children sleep, we talk, clean and read a bit. I can sometimes get the newspaper or make a phone call or two.
In the afternoons here, we are free to swim, eat, nap, go to Eilat, go to the nearby kibbutzim or hike. Often it is too hot to easily find the motivation to do much. Still, I am trying to organize a hike up to the mountains west of the kibbutz. There is a large chanukiah on the top and from there you can watch the sunset over Jordan.
All is well. I am relaxed, not bored, and enjoying the opportunity to read. I finished Lolita and am now reading O' Jerusalem. The Hebrew learning is going slow and steadily... still haven't found a guitar to borrow easily... As for the fellow volunteers, I'll withhold my judgement. Many of them are 18 and extremely excited about the constant flow of teen tours that come to this kibbutz for 3 or 4 day visits.
More soon...
Write ! ! !
--> R
Friday, June 30, 2006
Kibbutz...
After a 4 hour ride south from Tel Aviv, I spotted an oasis in the midst of the sandy beige valley where the highway cuts between two small mountain ranges. Visible from a few kilometers away, the kibbutz appeared small, isolated and sort of randomly plopped down. . . The bus let me off outside the gates and as it sped away, I took a few minutes to take in my surroundings.
I first noticed the heat. I love it, but I believe it's what they mean when people say stifling heat, or "it's so hot I cant breath" or "too hot to move." It does have an oppressive force to it, especially at 1 in the afternoon, especially when trees are sparse. But the kibbutz buildings are air condidtioned and there is a beautiful swimming pool. An additional bonus is that my room is the one with a great porch out front, sheletered by old palm fronds and equipped with chairs, a table and a laundry drying rack. Very luxurious accomodations, but more on that later...
The second thing I noticed upon arrival, as I glanced (unknowingly) at Jordan, which is maybe a mile or so to the east.... was the huge bright green grove of date trees. They are beautiful, but oddly juxtaposed and clearly out of place in the desert. I spoke tonight with a student here at the Arava Institute (an enviromental studies prgroamn based on the kibbutz) and she told me that the use of water for such projects is insane, but that the dates sell for a euro each in Europe.... This conflict, between zionism and environmentalism, between the survival of Israel and the morality of some of its policies seems to be a theme of my trip so far... or at least in the thinking that I am going through...
My new home, Kibbutz Ketura, is about 30 minutes from Eilat. there are about 300 residents, most of whom come originally from the United States, although I met a woman today from Columbia and there are one or two French families. ;) Imagine the liberal hippy, somewhat scruffy, seemingly laid back but extremely productive and well-educated Jews of the park slope Jewish center or the Newton Center Minyan. Well, that;s pretty much the kibbutz populous... Idealist Jews who love living here and work hard to make it work. I spent a few hours tonight with Aliza and her family. (Shes the volunteer coordinator) She and her husband are form NYC and met at a Jewish summer camp. Now they have three little Israel kids running around kibbutz or riding in their playpen on wheels.
The kibbutz sustains itself selling dates, and a dye they make from algae cultivated here. Around us is nothing but mountains, although a few other kibbutzim are nearby. They all go together to a local school a few miles away. There is also a dairy nearby that is supposed to have the best icecream and chocolate milk in Israel. : 0
Because this is getting long, I'll tell about my job and Tel Aviv in other blogs...
Oh!
My phone number is 011-972-52-317-5181
Best times to call are 12:30-4pm or 8:15-11am - It's 7 hours later here than in NY. (I think...)
My address is
Rachel Olstein - VOLUNTEER
Kibbutz Ketura
D.N. Hevel Eilat 88840
ISRAEL
my mom knows how to call for 2 cents a minute. I, unfortuantely, can't call out, and have limited email access, but will do my best to keep in touch. I always like letters the best! And I can always reply on paper!!!!!
More soon!
-r
After a 4 hour ride south from Tel Aviv, I spotted an oasis in the midst of the sandy beige valley where the highway cuts between two small mountain ranges. Visible from a few kilometers away, the kibbutz appeared small, isolated and sort of randomly plopped down. . . The bus let me off outside the gates and as it sped away, I took a few minutes to take in my surroundings.
I first noticed the heat. I love it, but I believe it's what they mean when people say stifling heat, or "it's so hot I cant breath" or "too hot to move." It does have an oppressive force to it, especially at 1 in the afternoon, especially when trees are sparse. But the kibbutz buildings are air condidtioned and there is a beautiful swimming pool. An additional bonus is that my room is the one with a great porch out front, sheletered by old palm fronds and equipped with chairs, a table and a laundry drying rack. Very luxurious accomodations, but more on that later...
The second thing I noticed upon arrival, as I glanced (unknowingly) at Jordan, which is maybe a mile or so to the east.... was the huge bright green grove of date trees. They are beautiful, but oddly juxtaposed and clearly out of place in the desert. I spoke tonight with a student here at the Arava Institute (an enviromental studies prgroamn based on the kibbutz) and she told me that the use of water for such projects is insane, but that the dates sell for a euro each in Europe.... This conflict, between zionism and environmentalism, between the survival of Israel and the morality of some of its policies seems to be a theme of my trip so far... or at least in the thinking that I am going through...
My new home, Kibbutz Ketura, is about 30 minutes from Eilat. there are about 300 residents, most of whom come originally from the United States, although I met a woman today from Columbia and there are one or two French families. ;) Imagine the liberal hippy, somewhat scruffy, seemingly laid back but extremely productive and well-educated Jews of the park slope Jewish center or the Newton Center Minyan. Well, that;s pretty much the kibbutz populous... Idealist Jews who love living here and work hard to make it work. I spent a few hours tonight with Aliza and her family. (Shes the volunteer coordinator) She and her husband are form NYC and met at a Jewish summer camp. Now they have three little Israel kids running around kibbutz or riding in their playpen on wheels.
The kibbutz sustains itself selling dates, and a dye they make from algae cultivated here. Around us is nothing but mountains, although a few other kibbutzim are nearby. They all go together to a local school a few miles away. There is also a dairy nearby that is supposed to have the best icecream and chocolate milk in Israel. : 0
Because this is getting long, I'll tell about my job and Tel Aviv in other blogs...
Oh!
My phone number is 011-972-52-317-5181
Best times to call are 12:30-4pm or 8:15-11am - It's 7 hours later here than in NY. (I think...)
My address is
Rachel Olstein - VOLUNTEER
Kibbutz Ketura
D.N. Hevel Eilat 88840
ISRAEL
my mom knows how to call for 2 cents a minute. I, unfortuantely, can't call out, and have limited email access, but will do my best to keep in touch. I always like letters the best! And I can always reply on paper!!!!!
More soon!
-r
Saturday, June 10, 2006
"In long range-planning for a trip, I think there is a private conviction that it won't happen. Something had to happen to forbid my going, but it didn't."
- steinbeck
How to begin... and now the only thing yet to do is depart.
"When the virus of recklessness begins to take possession of a wayward man and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going."
These past few weeks have been too busy to be sad. And as I've walked out of doorway after doorway, I have tried to practice what I see as my goal for this trip. Being present in the moment. Undeniably, any choice means the closing of alternatives. The bravery in decision making is accepting the unchosen. It is easy to validate the choices we make in retrospect, to explain away why our experiences were "meant to be." It is harder is to let go of the untrodden opportunities and I can not quite believe- tempting as it may be - that those options would not have played out in equal or even better fates. So as I begin this new phase, I hope to weigh opportunities in a different way, based less on should, based less on pressure from society, and based more on what I believe is truly the best choice. My hope is that an open mind will awaken me to opportunities that I could easily miss, and that a focus on the present will make each choice I make that much more complete and fulfilling.
Cheesy, perhaps, but for those who know me, you'll agreed that I have spent too much of these 25 years worrying about the past and the future. It is time to leave the worrying behind and to live, now.
Doors close behind me. (I can't help but think about ne'ilah) but I am proud that I have no regrets, no burned bridges and no hard feelings (I hope). I am not running away from anything (at least not consciously!) nor am I running toward anything. I am simply walking forward.
I go alone, and would not want it any other way. But the past few weeks have again reminded me of how blessed I am. Family, friends, community... I take parts of it all with me and know that I would never have the courage to go if I didn't have such a strong safety net back home. I do not go seeking home or with the hope of "Finding myself." I know well that my home is where my family is and that I am Jewish, American, a Hess, an Olstein, a Nauman...
Steinbeck again, because he says it better: [Journeys] are things in themselves, each one an individual and no two alike. I speculated with wonder on the strength of the individuality of journeys and stop to postulate that people don't take trips - trips take people..."
And thus, I jump aboard, eyes open, heart open, mind open, ready for this journey. . .
- steinbeck
How to begin... and now the only thing yet to do is depart.
"When the virus of recklessness begins to take possession of a wayward man and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going."
These past few weeks have been too busy to be sad. And as I've walked out of doorway after doorway, I have tried to practice what I see as my goal for this trip. Being present in the moment. Undeniably, any choice means the closing of alternatives. The bravery in decision making is accepting the unchosen. It is easy to validate the choices we make in retrospect, to explain away why our experiences were "meant to be." It is harder is to let go of the untrodden opportunities and I can not quite believe- tempting as it may be - that those options would not have played out in equal or even better fates. So as I begin this new phase, I hope to weigh opportunities in a different way, based less on should, based less on pressure from society, and based more on what I believe is truly the best choice. My hope is that an open mind will awaken me to opportunities that I could easily miss, and that a focus on the present will make each choice I make that much more complete and fulfilling.
Cheesy, perhaps, but for those who know me, you'll agreed that I have spent too much of these 25 years worrying about the past and the future. It is time to leave the worrying behind and to live, now.
Doors close behind me. (I can't help but think about ne'ilah) but I am proud that I have no regrets, no burned bridges and no hard feelings (I hope). I am not running away from anything (at least not consciously!) nor am I running toward anything. I am simply walking forward.
I go alone, and would not want it any other way. But the past few weeks have again reminded me of how blessed I am. Family, friends, community... I take parts of it all with me and know that I would never have the courage to go if I didn't have such a strong safety net back home. I do not go seeking home or with the hope of "Finding myself." I know well that my home is where my family is and that I am Jewish, American, a Hess, an Olstein, a Nauman...
Steinbeck again, because he says it better: [Journeys] are things in themselves, each one an individual and no two alike. I speculated with wonder on the strength of the individuality of journeys and stop to postulate that people don't take trips - trips take people..."
And thus, I jump aboard, eyes open, heart open, mind open, ready for this journey. . .
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