Back from Tsfat last night.... Now working at Teva in the woods of connecticut. Will be hiking the Appalachain Trail for the next few days and then working at the Hazon bike ride.
Much love and more soon...
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.
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