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.

Here is a picture of Kibbuzt Ketura from the mountain nearby. Children who are of bar/bat mitzvah age hike this mountain during Chanukah to light the giant menorah on its peak. It faces east; the mountains in the distance are in Jordan.

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.

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!)



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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.

Some photos - my roommate at the Kibbutz Exit, a donkey in the kibbutz date field and a sign in Eilat

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.)

Dinner yesterday on a couch in the desert!
and a picture of my room

For more pictures, you can see them on Snapfish in my album... Wow, I really am a big internet nerd now, aren't I?

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.


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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.

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...
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