India - the maze of cars and rickshaws only intensifies the confusion of my internal clock - but today the experiences I had remind me again of why I travel, and why I love it. In spite of countless experiences in India that I have heard, delving into the midst of Delhi today was nothing I could have imagined...
But let me back track...
When did this long day-week begin? I left Colorado at 3:30 am, headed for the airport. I had a 9 am flight to St Paul. There I caught a flight to Amsterdam. With 4 hours of layover in the Netherlands, I headed into the nearby city center for breakfast. I met a young journalist on her way to Uganda who was doing the same thing. Rejuvenated by the fresh air, we toured Amsterdam quickly, grins on our faces, cameras snapping - we felt as though this glimpse of Europe was a stolen delicacy, a forbidden treat. But I made it back to the airport with plenty of time to spare, and boarded my flight for India.

On the plane, I watched my first Bollywood movie - "Guru" - and was entertained by the cheesy love story coupled with the occasional music-video interlude that is so typical (apparently) of Indian film.

I arrived and was greeted by a man with a "Rachel Olstein" sign (My life is complete!) and we headed out into the late night Delhi traffic. He whisked us past the cab drivers and to an awaiting car.

At our hotel, which is incredible, I met up with Paul, my co--leader. 13 of our kids were safely asleep in their beds. But one had missed his connection in Chicago. My boss decided that I would stay in Delhi by myself for the day so that I Could greet Adam. The rest of our group took an early morning flight to Leh - in the Ladakh region of India.

Faced with the possibility of a day full of rest, I was and still am enormously grateful. Inexplicably, however, I couldn't sleep. I woke up, had a delicious breakfast around 8am and proceeded to explore the gardens at my hotel. I even got to do some laps in their new swimming pool. A note about the hotel - it's stunning, and has the outer appearance of any western 4 star hotel. On closer inspection, however, some things aren't quite streamlined yet. My TV and phone don't work, and the wake up call here is the knocking of the concierge at my door. It's great - so personal, but not always right on time. Also, when i tried to turn on my shower, the faucet fell off in my hands. I relate these trifles as observations more than complaints. They amuse me more than annoy me although a few fellow guests I met here far less humored.

On to the highlights of my day. Lilid, a tour guide, offered to show me around the city today. How could I refuse. The tour company in very reputable and my company has worked with them for three years. I was being offered a private tour for free! At noon, I took a car to the Grand Hotel - a 5 star palace that reeks of ostentation in comparison to the shanties, dirty streets and maze of cars that surround its walled and gardened acres on all sides. The (mis)adventures of my day began immediately. My driver, a 54 year old employee of the hotel, proceeded to interrogate me about my married life. (Seems to be a common first question here.) In spite of the details I provided to him about my husband and his very important job, this man had the nerve to ask me my room number! I chastised him and Lilid ended up complaining to this guy's boss. Hitting on the 20=something trip leaders isn't good for Lilid's business or the hotel. It's not particularly good for my peace of mind either.

In spite of the creepy driver, the ride to the Grand Hotel was unforgettable. Cars here drive on the left = in theory. But really, they go anywhere. Any side of the road, any lane, any tiny space that is small enough for them to squeeze between. There are buses, rickshaws, trucks, bikes, motorcycles (which the women ride side saddle with children in their arms.) At any traffic jam, there are children selling magazines or coconuts, standing in the middle of highway intersections barefoot, they appeal for a few small rupees (worth fractions of a penny.) Along the road are tents and make shift huts, whole villages set up beneath highway underpasses. I wonder if the tarps will survive the monsoon rains.

Hence, the shock of arriving at the Grand, a spot that Lilid had offered only because it is safe and well known. He pulled up in a motorcycle and realized how the tour would work. I was terrified, as he quickly saw, but he drove very slowly, very carefully and all the way on the right side. The scariest part was the constant honking. Cars here are encouraged to honk (the backs of buses say "Honke Please") so that drivers will know all the vehicles around them. You can only imagine the cacophony this creates. My heart lept each time a horn blared behind me. Shortly after lunch, we decided that I would feel safer in another form of transportation. Lilid is a kind and generous guide. He was always professional and appropriate - protective but not patronizing.

We rode off through Delhi toward a delicious lunch spot where Lilid and I discussed the differences between marriage and couplehood in our respective countries. He has been married 2 years to a 21-year-old woman that he never met before his wedding. His primary criteria in a wife was that she be able to life well with his mother. He spoke glowingly of his mother (even more so than of his wife.) His mother still cooks for him, cleans his clothes and wakes him up for work each day, in spite of his marriage and fatherhood. (He has a 1 year old) He told me of all the things his wife does to try and keep him happy. I asked what he does for her... "I protect her, and provide for her. I take her places and translate because she does not speak Hindi." he replied. I encouraged him to give his wife some more chances to visit her family; at 21, she must miss them terribly - he did say he wanted to do so, but that the 12 horu drive makes it difficult.

We also spoke a bit about Israelis (he is leading a group of 60 Israelis next month.) I told him about the sabra-fruit analogy and when I described the spiny sweet fruit, he knew it from his home village. He then asked me what religion Israelis are. It was a nice change to talk about Israel with someone so free of bias, so unaffected by news accounts, by family ties, by emotions or creed.


Monsoon season kicked in right after lunch. India has months of rare rains, and then, usually not until July, the monsoons arrives with little warning. The thick humidity of the air (so foggy that my camera lens needed constant wiping off) was the only hint. As I rode through Delhi on the bike, the rain began to fall in large painful droplets. We pulled over and Lilid led the way while I scrambled into a rickshaw and followed behind him.

We headed to the Lotus Temple, a Bahai prayer hall that gleams in marble and is designed to look exactly like the lotus flower. I only spotted one other non=Indian there. The place is more of a national attraction than a big tourist spot. As we approached the temple on countless stairs, we had to remove our shoes before entering the silent sanctuary - a round, smooth womb of white where music played barely audibly in the background. Feeling the cool stones beneath my feet, I felt grounded, calm and undistracted as I circled the temple's main hall.

As we left the temple, I was overcome (finally) with total exhaustion. Suddenly, in spite of the fact that at 4pm, I should have felt ready for breakfast back in the states, I could barely keep my eyes open. We hopped into another rickshaw and I feel asleep, completely oblivious to the cars, bikes and trucks that weaved around me, inches from my right leg.

Back at the hotel, I fell asleep instantly and woke up at 7, just in time for a quick breakfast before my flight. I dressed quickly, still feeling tired in spite of the 14 hours of rest. I checked in with Lilid went up to the dining room and ordered a coffee. The food offerings were oddly different from the previous day's fare. In place of cereal was soup; instead of fruit there were various salads. I inquired about omelets - or muffins - until I finally understood.

"What day is it?!" I asked. It was, of course, still Thursday - and it was 7PM - dinner time. (A good thing too - had it been Friday morning, I would not have been there to get Adam at the airport!)
I laughed for a long while at my utter confusion and then had dinner anyway. Now, back at the hotel with Adam, I have about 3 hours to rest before we head to Leh, the 11,000 feet, to the doorstep of Tibet...

I am headed off to Colorado on Friday for a training with The Road Less Traveled. I've got my vaccines and a seemingly enhaustive supply of pills and backcountry gear. Just have to squeeze it all into my pack and I'm ready. I leave for India in 2 weeks and will be mostly in the Himalayas - backpacking and volunteering at a school there. We'll also be in Leh and Delhi. At the end of August, I head to the Azores for my second trip. Using this link, you can get the updates about the trips I am leading. We call in these updates via satelite phone and the company posts them for the parents of our kids.

Here is the link. My trips are Global Service trips and they are called "Namaste 1" and Baleia Bonita 2.

http://www.theroadlesstraveled.com/trip_news.html

I can also get mail, although only once a month or so. Letters, as always, are welcome and loved. I'll do my best to write too.


When you write, please put my name on the bottom of the letter. The addressee should be The Road Less Traveled.

July:
THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED
c/o Far Horizons Tours
66, LGF Charmwood Plaza
Eros Garden, Near Suraj Kund
Faridabad - 121009

August:
THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED
CASA DO LADO
Rua D. Pedro IV 23
Horta 9900-111
Faial, Azores
Portugal

ACHDOOT (Unity)

12 days.
3 backpacking trips - (that's 3 pack outs, 3 pack ins)
50 children
2 1/2 thunder storms
1 raccoon family


I'll
keep this list short. . . because lists have been far too present in
the past 12 days. I'm just finding the time now to reflect, to think,
the breathe, after an intense but incredible, jam packed,exhilarating, and busy 12 days. The Achdoot season!


I worked this spring leading the Achdoot program at Teva. Working with the amazing Mati
Cooper and our fearless intern David Blank(man!), I was responsible for
organizing, planning and prepping 3-day back packing trips for 3
schools and 1 synagogue. From food orders, gear lists, cleaning peanut
butter containers, hanging tarps and schlepping tents - not to mention
the many car rides, it was a daunting task...

But worth every drop of sweat - because out in the backcountry, surrounded by 7th graders, we got to camp! We hiked, built fires, ate smores and had the privilege
of taking nearly 50 children on their first ever camping trip. We had
the honor of introducing these kids to something they had never done
before - and thus got to take part in creating anexperience that most of them will always remember.

Our first trip was with the Reconstructionist
Synagogue of the North Shore. I hadn't known much about this branch of
Judaism before the Memorial Day trip, but they taught us a lot and I
was very impressed. The first trip had some extra challenges.Teva
usually does car camping trips, but our site for this one was about 1/4
mile up beyond the van. When the children arrived (late on a Saturday
afternoon,
of all times), we did a "duffel shuffle." - -teaching them how to pack
their backpacks, and checking their gear for excess clothing and
toiletries.


Only a year after my first Outward Bound trip, I loved the chance to
pass on some of the tricks that I was taught in North Carolina and
California. For me, there was a powerful message in knowing that I can
now teach and facilitate backpacking with confidence - when a bit over
a year ago I was truly a novice.

Once we had reached our
site, it was time to send out scouts! We structure our trips as a model
for the Exodus from Egypt and the time the Jews spent wandering in the
desert. When we arrive at a new site, we send out scouts. We encourage
them to bring back positive feedback like Caleb and Joshua so that we
can all enter the Land of Milk and Honey. As a community, they choose a
kitchen location, a sanctuary and tent sites. Later, we divide intoshvatim - tribes. These 3 groups will rotate responsibility
for cooking, cleaning and fire/water. Each tribe is given a student
leader, just as Moses gave each of the Israelite tribes a leader.

Our first night out was eventful! As Blankman
was cleaning up dishes, he was visited by a very bold raccoon. Despite
his attempts to scare off our company, the raccoon (who the kids named
Caveman Joe) called upon his friends who started inching towards our
stronghold from all directions. We cleaned up impeccably and huddled
around the fire, hoping that the raccoons were feeling more curious
than carnivorous. The next day, I humbly threw away a piece of gum that
I had left in my backpack - turns out it had been the bait that was
luring Caveman Joe and his family.

Mati was a reliable
alarm clock throughout the trips. We take away watches from the
children in order to encourage them to be in tune with the natural
rhythms of their bodies and the world. Some of them are frustrated at
first, but by the end they appreciate the break from time - being on
time, knowing what time it is, having enough time, etc... We wake up
the children with a Jewish prayer "modeh ani" that talks of gratitude for another day of life. We sing as we walk through the tents, gently shaking the rainflys
above the children's heads. Before heading to our chosen prayer spot,
we drink hot chocolate and do some morning stretches, accompanied by
their corresponding prayers in Jewish Liturgy. (akabirchot hashachar)

With the Reconstructionist group, prayer was amazing! They have a beautiful book with drawings and readings about Kavanah - intention. We had them break up into groups to talk about each of the blessings of the Amidah
(a central Jewish prayer.) They came back to share their insight. We
sang and played drums and although services lasted an hour, no one
seemed bored or antsy. After praying, we head down to our kitchen for
morning chores and breakfast prep.

During the day, we do
group building activities and go for a hike. With lighting threatening
in the distance, we had to keep the hike short. We did get a chance to
go to the overlook and the kids were dazzled by the turkey vultures
that circled about the mountaintop. We had a view of Surprise Lake Camp
and the lake from our lookout. Back at camp, the rest of the evening
progressed uneventfully . . . until around 2am.

I woke up at
1:30 with the feeling that something was about to happen. Rain was
pounding on my tent and thunder rumbled from a not so distant place
nearby. I woke up Sara who was sleeping beside me. As the lighting
began to flash, we debated our options. Waking the kids would scare
them, but we could put them into a safe position. We decided thatoutting
them outside of their tents was too risky - most of them lacked decent
rain gear and we didn't want to compound our situation with the added
risk of hypothermia. Once the lighting was about miles away, we woke up
the kids, sternly but lovingly. We told them to sit in their tents in
the lightning position = on their sleeping pads, knees up, not touching
their tent mates. The lighting drill - which ended up lasting several
hours - was a highlight for many of the students. David, Sara and I set
up our own mats encircling their tents and as the thunder crashed ever
closer, we sang songs to stay awake and keep busy. Everyone came
together, no one was scared. One girl told me the next day that she was
sad when it was over.

Exhausted the next morning, the kids asked for breakfast smores.
Of course! We spend the third day packing up - the kids were thorough
and tireless. They helped us pack out and clean the gear for the 2nd trip, which was leaving only about 18 hours after the close of this one. We were bleary
eyed but ecstatic when the group drove off. It was a hot Memorial Day
and I finished with a dip in the lake. Without hot water, I showered
anyway, and then got to work packing for trip 2.

TRIP 2 - Solomon Schechter from South Boston

For trip two, we recruited our favorite Teva Superhero Intern David Blankman. Mati
and I were psyched to have the extra help and the kids enjoyed his
presence, especially those lucky enough to be in his tribe. (He taught
them some great cooking skills, and they excelled at craftsmanship when
they made dinner on the last night.)

But I'm jumping ahead:
The
week began in a bizarre manner. The group was due to arrive at 10. By
11, I was starting to worry because they still had not arrived. And
then my phone rang.
The group had managed to miss exit 50 in
Hartford Connecticut and was calling from Pennsylvania! I carefully
directed them through New York and back to our site on Route 44. 2
hours later, the phone rings again.
Excitedly, they declared their arrival - - -
at Surprise lake camp in New York.
But we were in Connecticut...
So
it wasn't until around 2 PM or so that the group arrived. We had a full
lunch plus added cookies and watermelon ready for them. They were
remarkably cheerful and excited to be there. I was especially impressed
with the staff's ability to maintain a positive attitude throughout the
ordeal.

The week went smoothly. I was proud of my backpacking
skills - we seemed to have the exact right amount of food. But the
school felt that a lack of leftovers meant too little food - so for the
third week we added in some more food. It felt good, nonetheless, to
know that I was developing my ability to assess the needs of groups in
terms of our pack out - gear, food, etc.

The highlight of the week happened on Thursday morning. One girl, Layla, was being Bat Mitzvahed
the following Saturday. The school had asked us to do something special
for morning services. during free time on Wednesday, we had some of the
children decorate our "makom kodesh" - the holy space reserved for prayer. Thursday morning, as we marched into our sanctuary, Layla led the way carrying
the Torah. (The school had brought with them a small Torah.) When we
walked up to the plateau for services, there were sticks and leaves
forming decorating the altar for the Torah. The sticks spelled out
Layla's name and there were patterns of Jewish stars. We carried over a
picnic table to use for the Torah. We prayed standing in a circle and
offered the children the opportunity to venture into the woods for
silent meditations.
But our surprise came during the Torah
service. While we knew that Layla would read from the Torah, I had no
idea that she would actually receive an ALIYAH - the moment and honor
that defines someone as a Bat Mitzvah. There, before my eyes, in the midst of the trees, the birds, and the morning sun, Achdoot had its first ever Bat Mitzvah! There were tears in my eyes as she finished the blessings and we all
sang loudly to her, then took turns hugging her. In her honor, there
was chocolate at breakfast, a too small token for the momentous
occasion.


Trip 3

The third Achdoot trip was an amazing end to the season. It was just Mati and I, so we delegated many of our duties to the staff from the 2 schools. One teacher had sent her two kids as chaperones. Veteran Camp Ramah staffers, they were always entertaining the kids with games and improv.

We
were worried about the weather all weekend. The kids arrived in the
pouring rain. The forecast was for continued rain and thundershowers.
We set up tarps all over the site and huddled under them for our
introductory meeting. The kids kept their spirits up, and the rain
cooperated with uncanny timeliness. It subsided during tent set up and
dinner preparations. WhileTuesday was full of rumbling thunder, the
lightning never came close, and we only had a brief rain drill in the
afternoon. As the thunder was building up on the second day during our
hike, we walked/ran back to camp to take cover. There, a few of us made
sandwiches while the kids stayed safe and dry in their tents. We
delivered their meals and waited for the storm to arrive.
It didn't.

After an hour or so, we gathered everyone together for group building challenges. We designed afternoon chuggim (choice periods) with the help, again, of Arielle and Noah, the Ramah kids. Mati taught the children to make dream catchers. Arielle and Noah did improv and acted out the Exodus story and its relevance to camping. I led a class on knots and tarping.

I
had been very nervous to teach this particular class. Knots are new to
me and in order to put up a decent tarp, I had to teach the children
several principles oftarpibng and 4 different kinds of knots. They were
incredible! I ended up showing them about 8 to 10 different knots. They
each practiced on their whistle cords. A math teacher who was with us
taught them all to daisy chain, so for the next two days, they were constantly daisy chaining
our ropes - keeping them organized and untangled. For a final
challenge, the kids hung up a tarp without our help. They did it
perfectly! I was blown away - and flattered whenmany of them told me it
was the highlight of their week. When it came time to breakdown camp,
we had many willing volunteers to help with the ropes and tarps. I told
the children that they would be set to camp on their own in a few
years. Tarping can be one of the most technically challenging parts of camping to master. They excelled.

Beyond
the rain, the week offered some additional excitement. One girl, fell
badly on her wrist. Another boy got a tick engorged and had a strange
mark left behind. On the last night, I took these two tough kids to the
local clinic. The boy with the tick was fine. The girl needed to see an
orthopedic surgeon for follow up. I am hoping she is okay. She handled
the pain very well and kept her wrist in the splint I made for her.
They took several x-rays at the clinic, and we stayed busy and laughing
with my dramatic reading of children's books that we found in the
waiting area.

When this group of kids left, I was elated. Not
by their departure, of course, but by the knowledge that the season had
been such a success. We marched them down to the bus in song, as
always, and ran after thebuses as they pulled off on the gravel roads.
When I turned and walked back through the trees to our deserted camp, I
cried a few tears of joy.Mati and I pulled off a kickass Achdoot season, with happy kids who learned and had fun, and overcome obstacles ranging from 2am lighting to unabashed raccoons, from a lack of flushing toilets to relentless mosquitoes.

Modah ani- - - -I am so grateful.

The past few weeks have been full of travel - nonstop. Good preparation for my summer, I suppose. By the time my feet land in Israel and I am settled in a new apartment for two years, I will be ready to stay put for awhile.
Until then, I am enjoying the road.

After Pearlstone, we headed to Capital Camps in south central Pennsylvania. The camp just did a 15 million dollar renovation and it shows! It's beautiful - both as a facility and as a more remote basecamp for Teva. The grounds were huge and we didn't have nearly enough time to explore the woods, the creek, the ropes courses or the trails. We did, however, leave a lasting mark.

Jonathan, a fellow Tevanik, designed a sefirot orchard that we planted with the children. Each kvutzah group planted one tree to represent a part one of the 10 spheres in kabbalah. Each tree represents a different attribute, for example strength, beauty, or sovereignty - (at teva we break up in trail groups of 10-12 kids and one teacher). The type of tree we planted also related to the attribute it represented. Most of the trees were fruit bearing. This week, we had 7th graders who were a bit older and rowdier than our typical population. They met the challenge of tree planting and the orchard looked beautiful at the end of the week.

Last week I also had to use my Wilderness First Responder training for the first time. A boy was hit in the head with a rock and was bleeding pretty badly. He was scared, cold and wet. Along with the support of a few teachers and Tevaniks, we stopped the bleeding, calmed him down and kept him from becoming hypothermic. When the ambulance arrived, I briefed them on his condition. He received 7 stitches and a CAT scan, but was back at teva later in the day. Impressive! Go Michael!

A less serious event of the week relates to the discussions I had with my kvutzah about garbage. We try to teach the children the value of keeping resources in a cycle and that throwing things "away" is just misplacing resources and making them unrenewable. Nature, on the contrary, doesn;t throw away waste. Waste becomes food for another player in the cycle. My children, however, did not seem convinced that "away" is not a viable longterm option for garbage. We spent much of the week debating the merits and potential downfall of launching all of our trash into outerspace. In spite of the many counterpoints I offered, a few of them (including their college aged chaperone) remained married to the idea. On the other hand, the kids had great suggestions about how to provide water for everyone in a sustainable way. Creativity was on.

After a stop in New Brunswick, NJ, I headed to the city last weekend for Lauren's bday. Back at Surprise Lake Camp on Monday, we packed out our Achdoot backpacking trips. This weekend, we are taking 12 high schoolers on a 3-day trip. The following two weeks, we will be camping with 7th graders. Mati and I got to scope out cmapsites in northern connecticut. I can't wait! There are moose and bear in the area - and I am excited to be in relatively undisturbed parts of our woods. Getting all the gear packed and organized is a huge task, but it's worth it.

Now I am enjoying Shavuot in my mom's new house. It's beautiful and feels like home already. Having more space offers privacy and places to put oru things. The street is full of trees and I watched the sunrise this morning through the slants of my 3rd floor window.

Back in the wilderness - with trees this time.


So I am now in Reisterstown, MD - about half an hour outside of of Baltimore at a beautiful Jewish retreat center called Pearlstone. We have been here for 3 weeks, running the Teva outdoor education program for 5th and 6th graders.

The Teva staff (9 of us) are houses in three beautiful log cabins. We have our own bedrooms, linens, bathrooms etc. Its incredible. I can look out my windows and see farmland and trees. Each cabin has a huge porch with rocking chairs and benches. Everything is made of a beautiful light wood. We eat in the dining room which is also really nice. all of our food is vegetarian and the staff seems to love us! This place feels more like a hotel than the camp atmosphere of ISabella Freedman, where I was in the fall.

Being back with children has been incredible. They energize me and I love teaching them, being outside with them and hearing their ideas. The children down here seem a lot more childlike (with a preciously guarded naivete that is lacking in NYC kids.) These children are also less materialistic. They handle all the ticks and poison ivy pretty well. I've gotten good at taking out ticks and handing out Benadryl. There's a creek here that runs all the way around the property - a two mile loop that circles the green fields of Pearlstone and Camp Milldale. We take the children on creek walks, following the current along rocks and under and around branches. We see fish, tadpoles and various fly larva. Then, we test the water quality and show them where herbacides running off from nearby farms are creating algae overgrowth in the stream.

One girl I had this week was incredibly homesick. From 9am, all she would talk about was how she wanted to go home that evening. She had never ever slept away from home. With a lot of effort from several Teva staff and her amazing teacher, we helped convince her mother that staying here would be positive experience. She did! We were so proud of her. She did have fun during the days, and by the third night she slept well, too. We have a lot of children who come here with ADD, Depression and anxiety. The line for meds is outrageously long. It's great to see those kids empowered here. The experiential learning style lets those kids thrive sometimes in a way that many of them have never known. That is perhaps one of the best things about this program.

Jakir, a former Tevanik, lives and works here. Along with his wife - Netzizah - and a woman named Rachel, they are starting an incredibly organic farm. Weekly, volunteers come to help till, hoe and plant. In the fall, they built greenhouse. The vision and planning behind every aspect of the farm is impressive. The design in a combination of permaculture and kabbalah. Environmental responsibility and Jewish farming laws are considered and weighed at every turn. there will be a vineyard and separate fields for barley and wheat. They are also designed a children's garden to use as a teaching tool and to make the earth and plants more accessible to kids. This summer, Jakir will be running a camp here for the farm. Its combination farming/Teva. I'm so inspired by his ambition, and his ability to realize this project.

What I've enjoyed most out here - in addition to simply being around children and teaching again! - is being outside and watching nature change week by week. When we first arrived, the ferns were mere fiddle heads, just peaking up their bent feathers form the ground. Today, looking at the woods, the forest floor is a mass of ferns reaching up above our ankles. From the porch of our cabins, the trees look like giant versions of the new broccoli that is growing in the greenhouse. The trees have turned darker green, the cherry blossoms have come and gone in our brief stint here. By the lake, there are three families of geese. One with 6 goslings, one with 5 and one with only 2. The parents always walk on either side of their children, protecting them on either side and hissing at anyone who comes too close. The dandelions (edible!) showed up a few days after we arrived here but by now they have turned to seed. In their place, are beautiful buttercups that turn the hillsides into seas of yellow.

Transitions...

I returned from the wilderness on a Sunday and spent a bizarre celebratory evening in Palm Springs with many of the people frm my course. Monday, I happily boarded a plane to San Francisco where I relaxed to the best of my ability. I spent a good deal of quality time with Sitka, my brother's dog - and walked all around Golden Gate Park and the Richmond District. I also did research about summer programs that involve travel, community service, and the outdoors. We'll see.

Saturday, Dan meg and I went hiking up in Marin. We did about 6 miles through the redwoods. Sitka loves hiking and pulled us up with him along the trail. That night, we had pizza on Haight Street. Sunday, while Dan and Meg were off playing frisbee, I explored china town and the adjacent neighborhood that is lines with cafes, italian restaruants and remnants of the beatnik generation. I spent hours in Citylights bookstore and happily found my cousin's poetry on their shelves. I visited the Jewish Museum to see a photography exhibit on Jewish identity. One of the artists gave a talk about his work which featured the story of a woman, a family and a community of Jews from Latin American countries. Many of these recent converts could trace their routes back to Jewish ties from before the Spanish Inquisition in 1492. Now, they have a synagogue in the Bronx bursting with young community members. Another one of the works, by an artist named Nikki lee, depicted a Jewish wedding. Nikki Lee's approach is to set up scenes to illustrate a message.For this project, she dressed as an Asian bride at a Jewish wedding. The groom was cropped intenttionally fromn each photo. Bizarre, but powerful - and feminist. Im not sure how I feel about it!

I met up with Miriam, a friend from Teva. and Sunday night I had a delicious and peaceful evening with her roommies. We made margharitas and stirfry, relaxed overlooking their garden, and woke up to yoga. The next day, I fell in love with Berkeley (as I fully expected would happen...) I walked around the campus and the main streets there a bit. In the library, there was an unbelievably powerful art exhibits depicting scenes from the Abu Gharab prison.

Then, Dan and I headed up north to do some wine tasting. It was gorgeous - rolling hills covered with vines. I wished we were on bike! The first winery we went to was biodynamic - even better than organic, their enterprise was entirely sustainable complete with solar power, crop rotation, etc.

Tuesday night, I took a redeye back to NYC. I guess it's been too long since I lived in Seattle; I'd forgotten how rough red eyes can be! I landed in Atlanta in the middle of the night, without getting much sleep on the first flight. Then, after wandering blindly through the Atlanta airport for 2 and a half hours, I finally got on my flight to Newark. I landed back in this center of urban blight at 10 am, took 3 trains through concrete and metal mazes and arrived at noon in Penn Station. Even after a week in San Fran, the site of New York, and especially NJ, was shocking. I watched some ducks drinking on a puddle of muddy water - wished I could tell them of the beauty and clean water that lies elsewhere. What a humble home they have found!

I am excited to be in New York, near friends and family, and working for an organization that I believe in so strongly. But I miss the stars, the moon, the breeze. I miss being outside so much. I crave a camping trip, a climbing trip, a fire. For now, I must enjoy the merits that only a city can offer, relishing its own special organisms, while not forgetting the great outdoors that awaits me only a few miles away.

Joshua Tree . . .

50 days & nights and still reflecting, still readjusting, still trying to uncover the subtle changes inspired by "a season on the wilderness."

50 Nights in Joshua Tree by the Numbers:

0 - pillows
1 - hot shower
1 - 60 year old woman who peed on me while simulating a seizure
2 - laundry opportunities
2 times - I was a bad vegetarian
3 - experiences with flushing toilets
3 days - spent entirely solo (almost a week of silence for me this year)
4 - snow or hail storms
5 kinds of wildlife spotted (big horn sheep, hare, kangaroo rats, coyotes (heard), jack rabbits)
7 miles trekked in search of Tamarisk (an invasive weed, of which we found none)
9 - students from 9 states: AK, MA, CT, RI, VA, CA, IN, CO and MN
10 degrees - temperature at night during our first week (35 degrees is average low for Jan.)
14 days - without changing out of my long underwear top
30 minutes - of ab exercises, push ups and stretching every morning
60 pounds - typical weight of pack
150 - miles trekked

Part 1: The Desert Trek

5 women, 5 men and two instructors (bill and kate), we set out on January 14. Leaving from Black Rock Canyon, a campground in the northwest corner of the park, over the next 14 days we traversed all the way to the southeast corner. At the campsite, we organized our packs, divided up the group gear - food, fuel, water, pots and pans, navigational tools and trekking poles - said goodbye to our wallets and cell phones and headed off across the snow dusted desert. For the first 5 nights or so, we were in "survival mode." As soon as the sun showed signs of leaving us, we hurriedly set up camp, cooked dinner and tried to stuff it in before frostbite set it.
Arriving at camp, we developed routines quickly. Each of us was assigned a job of the day - setting up tarps, cooking, cleaning, navigating or water distribution. While 2 people set up the tarps, others were piling the water dromedaries under food bags to try and keep them from freezing entirely. During those first few days, we didn't have to worry about rodents or other nighttime intruders - as Bill said, "No sensible mammal would be outside in this temperature." After dinner, which we tried to finish before it began to freeze to the inside of our bowls, we would heat up water. Armed with water bottles full of boiling water, I would quickly 'water a bush' do 50 jumping jacks and crawl into my sleeping bag. The first night, my water bottle leaked.
Let's talk a bit about sleeping, under a tarp, in 10 degree weather. As hypothermia thinks about setting in, it's common to have to urinate frequently. Hence, our nights were disrupted by several trips to the bathroom. Upon return, the sleeping bag was cold, the lower half downright frosty. I would tie off the bottom of my bag so that my body heat only had to heat half of it. Curled in a tight ball, I would do sit ups or the plank to try and warm up my body and thus the bag. A few handfuls of GORP helped me warm up, and usually I was able to fall back to sleep for another two hours or so.
Mornings offered minimal relief. We woke up in the dark, at 6 AM, to a sleeping bag that once or twice was covered in frost. If the night had been windy, our tarp touched our faces or flapped noisily through the night. Trying to dress myself warmly in a mummy bag was an acrobatic endeavor, but usually most of my layers were already on. First thing in the morning, the cold made me nauseous, but we slowly thawed out during the 30 minute stretching routine that kicked off each day. Once the sun arrived, we began to break down camp. By 9AM, we were back on the trail. (well, we usually navigated without trails, but...)
Every 3 days or so, we hit a cache - a pre-planted supply of water and food. Cache days meant heavier packs, but we could also deposit any trash at these sites. Often, we found a special treat waiting for us at caches - cookies, banana bread or mail!
One week into the trip, on the eve of my 26th birthday, we set out for solo in the miserable named "fried liver wash." Around 5pm, we were each led to a solitary spot where we were to remain in silence for the next 48 hours. We were allotted a journal, 10 crackers, peanuts, raisins, water and a tiny solo tarp. (I cheated and brought the Wilderness First Responder textbook to study from.) Thus began my most unusual birthday. I spent much of the day laying in my sleeping bag, writing letters and reflecting on 2006, on 26 years on the planet, on the beauty of needing no one and expecting nothing. With expectations lowered, I was filled with enormous joy when surprised by birthday cards from Kate and Walter - who even snuck me some handwarmers as a gift!
I watched the sun journey across the sky, hiked up an embankment to see the sunset across the vast Pinto Basin and the Hexie mountains. Aligned with the earth, I slept facing north. Around me were some desert oaks, creosote plants and many flies. I was asleep before the sun, but that second night, I work up frequently, willing Orion to fly faster toward the west. Willing Canis Major to chase him across to the far horizon. Eventually, the big dipper rose, the new moon showed its sliver and I caught a few hours of sleep towards morning. On that second day, boredom began to come and once noon had passed, I waited restlessly for Kate to free us from our solitary stints. More patient than usual, and filled - filled with faith and excitement, and a refreshing sense of independence, we rejoined the group. Our eyes blazed with contemplative fire, and we reassembled over a tasty dinner of Thai noodles and tofu. Leia (the logistics coordinator) had made a birthday prayer flag for me and put in our previous cache a ridiculously delicious cheesecake . (it was just as tasty the next morning when I licked the crusty remnants from my bowl!) Thus completed my birthday celebrations.

The terrain varied each day. We only met with a few other hikers; mostly it seemed the park was ours alone. We rarely gained more than 1000 feet of elevation in a day, with the exception of our wild navigations through the Hexie Mountain Range. There, just after solo, we braved the mountains as a challenge. (we could easily have gone around them) As we arrived at the top of a mound, we found at each try that another peak rose beyond it. False peak lead to false peak endlessly and we lacked the correct topo map, so our direction of travel was a best guess. It was in this mountain range, exhausted and without the end in sight, that we found a favorite campground. High above the Pinto Basin, near Mary Peak, was a sanctuary of soft sand amidst the rock. We called it our oasis. That night, the 10 of us slept outside, bivying without tarps, huddled close for body heat. (we also had a pretty hilarious set of skits that night - we performed sketches about "leave no trace" ethics of camping." Our instructors performed skits mocking us!) The following day, I was a navigator. It was a long and technically challenging day. We traversed the side of steep mountains, following contour lines on the map, walking 'nose to butt - avoiding falling talus that kicked loose beneath our feet. Walking above a desert wash, we eventually found a steep descent to the valley below. From there, we followed Porcupine Wash - a wide, beach-like wash with hills of mountains forming rock walls on either side.
As we trekked, we tried to pick up trash along the way. The park, we observed, was a burial ground for lost balloons. Daily, we picked up discarded balloons, the remnants of happy releases turned crisp in the dry desert sun. We untangled their ribbons from cholla and yucca plants, the balloons sadly clinging to the memories of a 50th birthday, a 20th anniversary, a barney theme. More eager, however, were we to detach these balloons from the grips of the spiny desert flora than ourselves! Each desert plant had its own unique defense system. No tree was safe - certainly not the deceptively beautiful Joshua Tree - a plant capable of impaling, scratching, blinding a careless hiker. The Barrel cactus (photo), Cholla and Cat's Claw mastered torture. Their sharp teeth would cling to clothing and drive through shoe rubber. "Wait, I'm cholla-ed" was a common call, and we would bust out the tweezers to try and free a member of our patrol.

In spite of the peril it can cause, the desert was beautiful. Challenging, yes, its beauty felt like a secret gift. From a distance, the rocks formed statuesque silhouettes, jutting out from former lake beds, shadowed by the outstretched arms of the Joshua tree, the park often felt like another planet. Large fields of evenly spaced trees looked cultivated, each tree leaving a fair share of land for his brethren - each parcel of land too arid to sustain more than a single tree. We would often try to camp beneath a large shelter of rock. The wall would protect us from the wind and sandy washes softened our sleep.
Our favorite part of the trek was in the last two days. We made our way through the rocks of Carey's Castle, a more remote and most alien like part of the park. Navigation was tricky, but in the end we found a wash and we walked through the path formed over millions of years by water. Coming across steep rocks, we would help each other descend, passing backpacks up front and spotting each other as we jumped to the next sandy surface. On our final morning of trekking, 5 of us woke early to attempt a nearby peak. We set a turn around time of 8:30. We hiked in silence through cholla along a steep ridge line toward the summit. Stopping only briefly for water, at times the mountain seemed too steep to climb. It was mostly 3rd class terrain - steep talus rock adjacent to steep drop offs. Thinking we had reached the peak, we pushed hard the last few steps - only to be confronted with the realization that we were at a false summit. Onward ! At 8:30 exactly, we reached the top. Celebrating with a few photos, a shehechiyanu, and some dinner plate bickey crackers, we turned around. I got to navigate the tricky descent! Choosing a route carefully, we had to use our hands to scramble down the steep slopes. Far below, we could just make out our camp site. The hike was a trip highlight. Before leaving the park, we sat for awhile in silence, soaking in our final minutes in the Park. We didn't know then that it would be awhile before we sojourned amidst those Joshua trees again.

We were headed for Camp Greer . . .

Part 2: Wilderness First Responder & Greer Basecamp

Camp Greer is the basecamp that Outward Bound California calls home in the winter months. It sits about a mile down the road from Joshua Tree National Park, overlooking the gridded city of Twentynine Palms, an anormous military base and the desert mountains beyond. The basecamp that we called home (reluctantly) for the next month was a few hundred yards down the road from the offices, gear room and industrial kitchen of the OB Headquarters. Our little village included 3 yerts and 1 dome - a canvas structure remeniscent of Epcot Center. We had no electricity, no running water... we often felt like settlers as we boiled water to cook and clean. The blue port-a-potties sort of ruined that feel though.

THE DOME - Our home at Camp Greer

The 10 of us piled into the dome, sleeping in a close circle around the walls. Never, ever have I slept amidst a greater stench of BO, dirty socks and, well, copious flatulance. Still, the laughing that constantly shook the walls - from the final minutes before sleep (at 8 PM) and again as we awoke each morning - made life in Epcot Center (as we called our home) tolerable. It was here that our group became incredibly close, cuddling to keep warm at night, spooning in twos and threes in our mummy bags, we were as comfortable together as family. This certainly helped during our WFR Course - close physical contact became a part of the daily routine.

Inside the Dome

Joined by a few outside students, we spent 10 days - 8 and 9 hours a day - learning the skills and practices of Wilderness Medicine. We studies acronyms endlessly, practiced giving breaths, taking pulses, checking blood pressure, making splints. . . Our teacher, Jaime, was absolutely phenomenal. He tolerated our impatient and immature antics, allowing us frequent breaks. He would rework lessons to fit our antsy needs, sending us outside and giving us infinite experiential scenarios. The lectures were kept to a minimum.
Because Jaime was such a phenomenal teacher, the material never felt overwhelming or too complicated. Still, the WFR course was mentally challenging. After 2 weeks of vigorous activity, we found ourselves stuck at base. While the outside members of our class could go out for dinner and use cell phones freely, we were not allowed to leave the site. My savior those weeks was Erin, who joined me on a daily morning run through the sandy washes nearby. (we had permission to go running if we went in pairs and stayed off the road.) The long days offered no other chance for activity, so we resorted to writing a song in the evenings before bed. I wrote a lot of letters and counted down the days.
I want to stress that while WFR was definitely not the most fun part of the course, it may very well prove to be the most valuable. I learned so much about the functioning of the human body, about how to assess whether a problem is serious or not, and about how to deal with any incident from stomach aches, breaks and sprains to bleeding and seizures. (True, certain illnesses present little chance for me to help, but I can recognize these too, and know when emergency evacuation needs to happen.)

Part 3: Climbing

Part 4: Final Trek

If 2006 was the year of breaking free and letting go, than 2007 seems to be about patiently noticing each moment. Surely, Outward Bound will provide ample time for me to think, to take in, and to be radically amazed.

In a few days, I am off to the California wilderness for two months of backpacking, rock climbing and instructor training. My home will be the 65 pounds on my back, surrounded by the endless sprawl of Joshua Tree National Park. It will look something like this:




So what will I be doing? To quote from the my oodles of paperwork:

"A typical day involves rising with the sun, making breakfast, packing up camp, hitting the trails or rocks. You will hike or climb all day - taking breaks for food, to rest, or to enjoy a view - but generally covering lots of territory. After dinner, you may meet to address the next day's plans or to discuss leadership or teamwork methods."

After more than two months of training (8 minute abs anyone?), I am as ready as I can be, although alums warn me that no matter what: the course will be the toughest experience of my life. For 8 weeks, I will be well beyond the reaches of technology. Our group of 10 will be my friends, my family, my world.

While always beautiful, at times the road will be lonely and the tasks seemingly impossible. I ask for your support - if I cross your mind in the next two months, send me strength, for I may need it. I can receive mail from time to time and I can only imagine how much joy a letter from afar will bring me...

The address:

Rachel Olstein Course #JJI770
C/O Outward Bound Wilderness
P.O. Box 967
29 Palms, CA 92277
USA

--> A final request. . . my hard drive crashed about a month ago and the data is completely irretrievable - gone are my pictures, all my music, my grad school essays, and hundreds of journal entries. While most of it is irreplaceable, and I have come to terms with this... I would appreciate it enormously if you have music or any pictures of times we've shared, would you send them to me?

As the rain finally comes through, breaking from the weight of a day´s thick humidity, i have at last decided to take the time to document a bit of my recent travels.
Ive been relatively stable - having spent most of the past week on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica. My father, step mom and siblings left on sunday morning and i headed back to Puerto Viejo. The city is the largest one south of Limon, and only one road runs along the shore here. The culture is a mix of Caribbean, Costa Rican and I whole lot of touring surfers. It was definitely a good place to spend New Years, but I dont think I will be one of the ones who falls out and sets up a life down here.
On this trip, I have had a lot of firsts - the climate here is really, truly jungle. If you know where to look, or have someone with you who does, you can spot sloths and howler monkeys right alongside the road. There is a richness and a diversity of plants and animals that amazes me.

On Sunday morning, I headed on a bus back to the coast. I stayed in a huge youth hostel, complete with tent villages and dozens of hammocks. The floors were covered with bright mosaics and every other surface was painted with vivid, sometimes lude, often funny murals and phrases. The bathrooms were clearly marked, or i should day depicted, and the signs made it clear that there was no nonsence allowed in the kitchen. The backpackers there were from allover, many of them drawn to Puerto Viejo for the surf.

For dinner, I cooked up a stirfry with a fascinating nad atypical family from Alberta, canada. The parents had brought there 3 boys, ages 13, 13 and 15, to Costa Rica. While limited monetarily, they allowed the boys an unusual amount of freedom. The kids were incredibly well behaved, independent and able to create a good time for themselves. Their mom would cook up the meals for them, remind them to brush their hair ' and then they were off to the beach, or to laze in the hammocks. Meanwhile, mom and dad partied with the rest of us, playing pool and cards, or drinking beers.
They cared deeply for their children, and always knew where tehy were, but had a much more laissez faire approach than most.
After dinner, we could drink from the cooler full of punch. I met up with some Israelis and two guys from Jersey, plus this couple from Brazil. BEfore midnight, we headed to Johnny´s downtown. No one was exactly sure when 12 struck, but when the fireworks seemed especially intense, we all hugged and wished each other a happy new year. Then, along with most of the town, we danced until 2 or 3 am. I finished the night as I did a year ago ( on the opposite coast) with a walk on the beach and a dip in the ocean. I was happy to be facing east.

Saying goodbye to 2006 was easy; it spite of all of the amazing things I have done this year, I have had to let go of a lot of things, quite suddenly, and I am excited by the prospect of a fresh beginning, regardless of how arbitrary the moment is. With my outward bound class on the horizon, I know that this year will require strength, mentally and physically.

And so, I woke up early on the first day of this year, and knew not what the day would hold. With a prayer book borrowed from an Isaeli surfer, I welcomed in the new year with prayers and songs - combining blessings Ive known for years with songs recently acquired at Teva and the spontaneous songs of my heart. As I prayed, and listened, I felt in good company as the crabs peaked out of their holes in the sand, as if in response to the traditional call to prayer. At one moment, together, they poked their two eyed tentacles out of the sand and set out toward the surf, ready to retreat if a big wave came along.
I spent the day relaxing, enjoying the soft black sand of the Playa negra, trying to notice the small things, like the pattern on a piece of drift wood, or the way that a little boy laughed as a he played soccer on the beach with his father. In the afternoon, I ran a few miles down the road and stopped for a drink of water in a small cafe. The night was hilarious... I cooked again, and then a bunch of us played hilarious card games that involved burning a cork and marking ourselves with char if we lost. It was fun to just be goofy, and to note the many commonalities among us - a random sampling of backpackers from 5 continents. I also noted, however, the dearth of Costa Ricans.

Thus, today, I resisted the incredible urge to head to Boco del Torros (which i dont think is spelled like that!) It´s an island in Panama with beautiful coral reefs. I left my new friends and headed north to the small town of Cahuita. Here, Ive had amazing Caribbean food and wandered the streets. I try to breathe deeply on this trip, to save somewhere inside this fresh breeze. This store of serenity and ease will serve me well if I can drink of it next month as I hike through the desert...

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,

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:

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.

Country Living…

November 14, 2006

In preparation for the Outward Bound training course, I’ve been trying hard to get in shape. Little steps, but with Eli as training partner at Teva, I’ve been doing a good job staying disciplined.

Goal one: The annual 5K Cannonball road race in Falls Village, CT. Just one week into our training regiment, we signed up to represent Isabella Freedman at the annual cannonball run on Nov. 4^th. I was pretty nervous, especially since we’d only been jogging two miles, but my goal was modest – no walking. Eli, on the other hand, was out there to win, his cross-country competitiveness making resurgence from his college days.

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 4^th was no one-event day in Falls Village. In addition to the monthly book sale and the race, last Saturday was the end of the Cow Chip Raffle. Now I had seen signs around town about this event, but thought (silly me) that the prize as manure. In fact, the prizes were monetary, and the cow chips referred only to the method of selecting a winner.

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. Nicaragua.

In addition, boom. I had met Melissa and her husband on the roof of a church in Leon, Nicaragua. I had taken there picture, and eventually ended up going to a concert with her and the Israelis we were traveling with. Therefore, here we were full circle, or something… two Jewish women – her from NY, me from – well, anyway – up in the woods of Connecticut at Isabella Freedman –

Thus, I am ever more convinced that Freedman, second only to Jerusalem is ever the unlikely hub of all good things Jewish.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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