"Gilad is Still Alive"

This post refers back to an older post I wrote about a soldier who had been kidnapped, Gilad Shalit. Without repeating everything I wrote the first time, as of about two weeks ago, Gilad has been in captivity for 4 years. He was a 19 year old boy when he was taken. There is some controversy about what should be done. Hamas asks for the release of hundreds of captured terrorists in exchange for Gilad. However, there is an INSANE amount of support. There are flags EVERYWHERE for Gilad, constantly reminding the government that he is alive (there has been proof over the years that he is in fact still alive). There are yellow banners, also showing their support.

Two weeks ago, Gilad's parents started walking from the north to Jerusalem (there just arrived in Jerusalem a couple of days ago). Family friends of mine joined the Shalit family along the way and said tens of thousands of people had also joined the family to show their support.

This happened on a Friday. I'm not sure for how long, but people had been gathering in Caesaria, in front of the house of Benjamin Netenyahu, Israel's prime minister, every Friday night. They had been holding a Shabbat service on his front lawn, again, to remind him that Gilad is still alive and we want something done to bring him home. Last Friday, because the Shalit family was in attendance, thousands of people showed up.

This past Friday, I went to visit those family friends, and, as usual, they wanted to go to Caesaria, so I went with them. I sat on the lawn with a couple hundred other people, most wearing shirts of yellow ribbons to show their support. Singing songs about bringing Gilad home, and it was unbelievably moving. I can't imagine half of the United States standing behind one lone soldier kidnapped in war. I can't imagine the same degree of support any where else in the world. Given all the bad press that the world loves to dish out to Israel, it's a country that cares about it's own like no where else in the world.

Last Day of Work

I'm going to pretend that today was my last day of work, since I meant to write this on my last day.

Today, I finished working at McCann Erikson. It was a bit bitter sweet for me. Yes, at times my job was a little bit less interesting than I would have liked. Getting a brief and being told to add a letter, or copy and paste a text change, isn't really my idea of an amazing job. But then days that I really got to do something creative. To use my photoshop skills. To see ads I worked on around the city. It's exciting.

One of the things I'll miss the most is this bench, under this tree. This ended up being my favorite place to sit and eat lunch. To get out of the office, see some sunlight during the course of the day. Goodbye tree.

Tzeva Adom (Color Red)

Today I went to Sderot. We got on the bus, and our Madrich (or counselor) told us that, while in Sderot, if we hear a siren go off repeating "Tzeva Adom" (Color Red), we need to immediately run to the nearest bomb shelter. "Tzeva Adom" is the warning that Kassam Rockets may be heading to the area. Once the siren goes off, you have 15 seconds to get to a safe location.

We arrived in Sderot, and were once again instructed what to do if we heard the "Tzeva Adom" warning. They reassured us, though, that the room we were sitting in, a large room in the Chabad House, had been converted into a bomb shelter, so we would be safe there.

We spent the day listening to lectures speakers talk to us about life in Sderot. Sderot is a smile town that sits just miles from the Gaza strip. Since Hamas took over the Gaza strip, thousands of Kassam rockets (a small number of which can be seen in the picture I took at the police station), have bombarded Sderot, as well as other cities in the area, including Ashkelon, where I still have family. It is because of these rockets that were continually fired into Israel, that Israel took it's actions towards Gaza a few years ago.

In the beginning of 2009, a cease fire was declared between Gaza and Israel. Since there, there have only been a little over 300 rockets fired into Israel, although we were told the frequency increased since Israel intercepted the Gaza Flotilla. Someone asked, when the last "Tzeva Adom" alarm went off. We were told last Thursday, less than a week earlier. There were a couple of rockets, however, earlier this week that hit just south of Ashkelon, that came without warning, luckily no one was hurt. To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that, given the current situation with Gaza, they took us to Sderot. But, at the same time, maybe it's that much more important because of it.

We took a short tour of Sderot. Our first stop was at a playground. Parents had been scared to let their kids go out and play during the peak of the bombardment from Gaza. As a result, this worm was created as a bomb shelter. If kids hear the alarm go off while at the park, they have a safe place in the park.

Earlier, we had watched raw footage of kids at a school when the "Tzeva Adom" siren went off. I, thankfully, could never imagine what it's like growing up in a city where you live in fear. Constantly ready to run to the nearest bomb shelter. It was quite interesting to watch. The kids were taught to sing loudly once they enter the bomb shelter, to keep them from here the explosion.



Being there, seeing the city, all the bus stops that had been converted to bomb shelters. All the houses that had added bomb shelters to their properties. Constantly being told what to do in the event of a "Tzeva Adom," it really puts things into perspective, especially given the world's condemnation over Israel's actions on the "aid flotilla."

Spelunking

This weekend, I last minute decided to join a group that was going on a "cave hike." I didn't really know what to expect, but I was aware of a giant cave near Beit Shemesh (where we were heading), do I thought we'd just walk through the cave. Well, we didn't go to that cave. Instead, we went to an area that used to be a Jewish village in the days when the Jews were forced out of Jerusalem (and a lot of times into hiding) in order to avoid being persecuted by the Romans.

Let me start by saying we had AMAZING weather. Israel in the summer is not known for being fun. It tends to be hot, and humid, but we had a great day. It was warm, but we had a nice breeze. We arrive at the place, and Itzik informs us that we will be going to three cave.

The first, was used as a storage area (hence all the holes).

The second one was where people would bury their dead. The room that I'm standing in front of is where they used to take the bones of their loved ones to be stored a few years after their death. This was done because of the limited space to bury everyone in your family in the same place. Luckily, the bones are no longer present here.

Actually, this cave was carved out quite nicely. By far, the most decorative cave of the three. More than that, they had created a gate to try to keep grave robbers out. A giant wheel is positioned between the stones and rolled closed. These caves are also made up of the Jerusalem stone that is seen in buildings all over Jerusalem.


The third cave was a bit different. We started by lying on our stomach and commando crawling through a tiny little space, just to reach a space big enough for 3 (in which we had at least 10 before Itzik agreed to move forward). This pattern continued until we got to the "giant room in the cave where we were able to all sit somewhat comfortably for a little. This cave is referred to as the "refugee cave." It was here that the public of the village could go to hide from the Romans. Because of this, the entrances are so hard (to make it that much more difficult for the Romans to get through with all of their gear). There are dead ends, the tunnels move up and down in unexpected ways. All in an attempt to make things more difficult for the Romans. Not to mention the absolute darkness. It's one thing to be in a little cave with a flashlight on, but in darkness...

All in all, it was quite a pleasant and unexpected way to spend the day. Yet another reminder of how much history there actually is in Israel.

Wine and Gas

Probably, when reading the heading, you think wine and bodily gases because that makes more sense. On the way to work the other day, I noticed for the first time a sign at the gas station advertising wine and cheese. So, like a normal person, you'd think they sell some wine at the gas station. Many do. I've recently gotten wine from a gas station. But this was a nice wine store. It was located between the car wash and the repair shop.

So I started thinking, that could be convenient. You're on your way to a dinner party, running late, need to get gas. And there's a nice wine store to get something to take with you. Then I thought, can you imagine the conversation when the bottle of wine is opened and the person says "Wow, this is good wine. Where did you get it?" And you have to respond, "The gas station."

Rothschild

One of my favorite things about living in Tel Aviv is what a nice city it is. I know a lot of people have this vision of Israel as a desert, and can't really get past that. Well, there's a lot more to Israel than desert, and Tel Aviv has neighborhoods and streets that have such a charm.

One of my favorite things about the city is all the Sderots. No, I'm not referring to the city that was attacked by Gaza a couple of years ago. I'm referring to the streets that have pedestrian walkways down the middle, with trees and benches, and coffee shops. One of the nicest being Sderot Rothschild (pronounced Rotshield in Hebrew), pictured to the side.

The other day, I went on a mini adventure, to find a photo gallery a friend told me about. I got there, and it was very blah. One photographer, and very much not my style. They took the same picture, one under exposed. One over exposed. Why is that supposed to be interesting? That's supposed to be the process to get to a real picture.

Anyways, on the way back, I wasn't really feeling well (this is before I found out that I had the stomach flu) so I stopped for a gelato and strolled down Sderot Rothschild. On the way, I found a bench, from which I took the photos. People rode by on bikes, walked along with friends or strollers. It was so peaceful. Yet, at the same time, it's in the middle of the city.

On a random side not. All of the streets in Israel are named after people who have done some sort of services to the state of Israel. So who were the Rothschilds? Well, according to Wikipedia, they were an influential banking family. Walter Rothschild was the addressee of the Balfour Declaration to the Zionist Federation, which led to the state of Israel.

There's another street in Tel Aviv named Goor Areyeh, which translates to Lion Cub. That means someone's last name is Lion Cub. Just found it random....

Across the Divide

Last Friday night, I went to a potluck in my building. It was a bit unexpected. My friend told me about it in advance, but I had other plans. My plans got postponed, so I went.

When I arrived, it was mostly people from my program. Once the last person arrived, Ilan stood and recited the Friday night blessings, in Hebrew, as I'm used to. He doesn't really speak Hebrew (at least I'm pretty sure he doesn't), but he's Jewish, so he knows the blessings. As he recited, you can hear a twinge of an accent. He's from Ecuador. As he got to the middle, Susan joined in. She's from Canada. And I couldn't help mouthing the words. I'm from the US (I know, you all had no idea). Then I started looking around the room. Also represented was the UK, Russia, and Greece.

It struck me how uniting it is to be Jewish. Yes, I know, lame of me to say. Perhaps it's the same among Mormons, Protestants, Muslims, or Hindus. But I felt it as a Jew because that's something that's united me to this random, eclectic group of people.

My favorite part of the meal was when the food came out. Susan made chicken noodle soup, Ilan made beer chicken, and Irina made chicken curray. I guess there are things other than Judiasm that unite people. Chicken.

The picture isn't actually from the potluck, it's purim, but the US, Turkey, Canada, Germany, and Urugay are represented...

Fruits!

My sister loves fruits. I don't think I've ever met anyone who likes fruits as much as she does. In fact, if she could all the nutrition she needed just from fruits, I think she'd be happy doing it. I can't say that I feel that way. Don't get me wrong, I like fruits as much as the next guy, but not all. Not all the time. But one of the fun things about being in a new country is new fruits!

This lovely orange thing that really doesn't exist in the US is called a Loquat in English (I like the Hebrew name, shesek, better). There's one food that I can use to describe it. Amazing. People say it's a cross between a melon and an apricot. I'm not sure I agree with this statement. They're sometimes sweet, sometimes a bit sour (sour's better). Maybe I'd be willing to concede that texture wise, it's a bit like melon, kind of. All I can really add, is, if you get the opportunity to try one, TRY IT!!! Just peel the skin, and don't eat the giant seeds.

Passion fruit, on the other hand, apparently exists in the US. Maybe? People have at least heard of them. I like things that are passion fruit flavored. My favorite yogurt in Israel is a sour yogurt with passion fruit jam like stuff. But I've never actually even seen a passion fruit. The other day, I was at a moshav and saw these things that looked like shesek, kind of, but green. When I asked what it was, I found it was passion fruit. I never actually knew what it looked like. The flower is also way interesting. Then I saw a ripe one. It looks like a dried up purply brown thing. And you open it up, and it's an orangy goo with seeds. Sounds appetizing. Yet, it tastes just like anything passion fruit flavored. Exactly. Super sweet, almost syrupy, minus the seeds. It was the first time I had even thought about a passion fruit.

Reverse Hitchhiking

Today, I sat at my bus stop, waiting for my bus. A car pulls over to the bus stop to ask for directions. I didn't hear him at first, the other woman at the bus stop talked to him first, but she didn't know how to give him directions. I actually did (although, I realized after the fact that I forgot to tell him to turn on the last street, woopsy).

It was a windy day, and it's a huge, noisy street, so I got up to give him directions. I told him where to go (well, almost). He then asked me if I was also heading to Tel Aviv. I answered yes. He motions with his head for me to get into the car.

Now, let me point out that this man was a businessman. Not old, but probably mid thirties. Nice car (by Israel standards, not Calabsasas). I've been taught well, though, and said no. He asked if I was going to Azrieli. This was where he was headed. No, I wasn't. He then asked if I was going to the Central Bus station, and again tells me to get into the car. I tell him, no, not heading there. At this point, I found it a bit peculiar and had no desire to let on what part of Tel Aviv I was heading to. He then says a third time that he'll take me. I smile, thank him, tell him that my bus is coming any minute, and return to my bench, where a random woman commended me on how smart I was not to get into the car with him because "you never know."

You'd think I'd be the one anxiously trying to get a ride from so I don't have to wait for the bus, pay the money... But no, this man decided to reverse hitchhike and try to pick up someone who didn't want to be picked up. Random.

Free Range Chicken

I work in a commercial, high tech area. I have a tendency of calling it an industrial area, for lack of a better word, but it's actually a pretty nice area. The whole area has only recently been built. In fact, that tall, dark building that takes up most of the picture, is my workplace. The buildings are new, modern, sleek. And behind the two main streets in the area, is a long park You can see that a statue sits on the corner at the beginning of it. This is where I like to spend my lunch. I sit in front of a computer for hours, I at least like to be outside for a bit during lunch.

So, one day, I went to the park to eat lunch. As I start to eat, I notice a white rooster walking leisurely through the park, as if he owns the place. I guess I should mention that I had notice in the past that whatever lot is up against the park has chicken coops. I found this random at the time, but remembered and worried that there was a hole in the fence and the chickens were going to get loose. I later noticed that, while the white one was obviously the head honcho (random fact, honcho originated from Japanese), there were a couple of hens also hanging out along the fence where, on the other side, there was a chicken coop.

I was quite amused as I saw the giant rooster headed for a kitten. Cats like birds, but the rooster was easily twice the size of the kitten. I wondered where this encounter would go. It didn't really. It was a little anti climactic to say the least.

But, as the chicken wandered in and out of the gate, I thought, poor guy who owns them. What will happen when he comes back and finds his chicken gone? However, since then, on at least 2 other occasions, the chicken have been out, wandering the pack, although staying fairly close to the fence where they obviously come from.

Talk about free range chicken...

Culture Clashes

An Arab woman got on my bus today. I noticed her because I've seen her on my bus several times. She was covered, pretty much from head to toe. Long skirt, long sleeve shirt, head covering. However it wasn't what I would think of when I think of a traditional Arab woman's outfit. Her shirt was a button down, pinstripe. Black's and grays, which I'm pretty sure is her general color scheme.

But then it got me wondering where is she going? What is she doing. She rides the same bus as me at the same time, not daily, but on several occasions. When she got off, it was in a commercial area. I started to wonder, is she going to work? She seems fairly traditional (and we all know the traditional woman's role in an Arabic society).

Then I started thinking about the word Arab, in general. It's not a religion. Arab's are generally Muslim, although some are Christian. It's not really an ethnicity, since Arabs live in Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Morocco... just to name a small few. So I started to wonder who is defined as an Arab.

According to Wikipedia: "Arab people (Arabic: عربي‎, ʿarabi) or Arabs (العرب al-ʿarab) are a panethnicity of peoples of various ancestral origins, religious backgrounds and historic identities, whose members, on an individual basis, identify as such on one or more of linguistic, cultural, political, or genealogical grounds.^[11] Those self-identifying as Arab, however, rarely do so on their own. Most hold multiple identities, with a more localized prioritized ethnic identity — such as Egyptian, Lebanese, or Palestinian — in addition to further tribal, village and clan identities."

Thank you Wikipedia. So, what about the Jews that have a similar ancestral, cultural, political background? No need to worry, Wikipedia also has this covered...

"Jews from Arab countries – mainly Mizrahi Jews and Yemenite Jews – are today usually not categorised as Arab. Sociologist Philip Mendes asserts that before the anti-Jewish actions of the 1930s and 1940s, overall Iraqi Jews "viewed themselves as Arabs of the Jewish faith, rather than as a separate race or nationality".^[65] Prior to the emergence of the term Mizrahi, the term "Arab Jews" was sometimes used to describe Jews of the Arab world. The term is rarely used today."

Hard to imagine a time when Jews would have been comfortable calling themselves Arab Jews since today it seems like such an oxymoron.

And to end on a completely different note and explain the random picture of an Indian woman at the beginning of the post... At work, in the elevator, there are TV screens which play ads that McCann Erikson have worked on. On my way up that morning, it had to be an ad with Indian women, dressed similarly to the woman in the picture. After my long reflection of the Arab woman, covered head to toe (and a tangent I won't even get into about how Orthodox Jewish woman also feel the need to cover themselves in the same way), I found it interesting to see a culture in which the tradition was the complete opposite. It's appropriate to show skin and wear BRIGHT colors. I lean drastically towards the Indian mindset in this instance.

What the Hell is Up With Tel Aviv Streets Today?

I was originally going to call this post, "My Day on the Bus," but eventually decided that this was more fitting. When I left work today and took my usual 3:00pm bus, I expected the normal bus ride, and to arrive at home around 3:30, as usual. That was not my day. Instead the following events kept me from getting home until 4.

Let me start by apologizing for an insane amount of street names. I have provided a map below...

Having just returned from a weekend trip to Ein Gedi the night before (I will eventually get back to my weekend in Ein Gedi), I was exhausted, and naturally dozing off on the bus. Then I start to hear a weird rhythmic noise. I start to listen for it, and it occurs with regularity. I start thinking, this sounds like drums. Then I hear what sounds like horns. This is where I start thinking something might be up.

Sure enough, in front of Lev Haeyr L'Mishpacha (Heart of the City for Families, which, by the way, I have no idea what is at this building but have often wondered about it as I pass on a daily basis) there was a marching band. The street was blocked off and tons of people were in the street. They held up a sign, but I couldn't tell if it was a parade or protest, or some unknown type of gathering. Because of this, we had to make an unexpected detour. Generally we continue down the same street, Arlozoroff, until Dizengoff. Instead we turned left on Bloch and then right on Ibn Gvirol. I assumed we would then be turning left on Arlozoroff to get on the same route. And, surprisingly in this city, it was even possible to make a left onto Arlozoroff, but the bus driver didn't realize this.

We continue going north on Ibn Gvirol (which is the complete opposite direction of where we need to go), and the driver doesn't seem to have plans to turn in the opposite directions. People on the bus start to become hysterical (and because they're Israelis, they are that much more annoying and vocal about it). Finally, a little woman gets up and asks the bus driver if he needs help. She then proceeds to give him step-by-step directions, standing next to him every step of the way.

One of the scariest things I've done on a bus is had to make a U-turn. Although, I did realize at some point that if there was to be an accident, those of us on the bus would probably be ok. Anyways, we finally U-turn, head back in the correct direction, and turn on Arlozoroff (Just FYI, the location where we U-turned is off the map).

We continue along the normal route at this point. The next step is mine, but wait! My stop is near Pinsker, just after Bogroshov, but there's a police car blocking the street. The bus driver doesn't know what to do. The same woman tells him to turn right on Bogorshov. And I worry that I will never get off the bus. She asks to be let off as the bus waits to make the right onto Bogroshov. As he opens the door for her, I take the opportunity to run off.

So, why was Pinsker closed? No idea. I walked down Pinsker, and turned left on Trumpledor (my bus stop is usually right on Trumpledor). There's another police car blocking off where my bus would have turned right on Trumpledor. As I approach the intersection, a cab does too, and he honks at the police car blocking the road. Her response: "Oh, I'm parked here so that you can attempt to squeeze around me. What do you think?! The road is closed!!" Priceless...











the blueish line is the normal route, pink was today's route, and red is road closures.

Yom Haatzmaut

Last week was Yom Haatzmaut (or Israeli Independence day). Preparation has been going on for weeks with flags cropping up all over the country. This, is of course, has excited me considerably since I decided to do a flag series (blog to come...) and you really can't walk two steps without finding an Israeli flag, or sit in a cafe/ wine bar without having them draped behind you.

One interesting thing to note about Yom Haatzmaut is that it is the day after Yom Hazikaron. You have the saddest day of the year for Israelis because as already mentioned everyone has lost someone. And then, as the sun sets, and the day ends, you have the biggest party night in Israel, and let me reassure you, it's maddness!

So why the insane flip from mourning to partying? Well, if you think about it, Yom Haatzmaut is an extension of Yom Hazikaron. It's a way to continue to honor and remember the soldiers that have been lost. It's a way to show that their lives were not lost in vain. This died defending their country, to wish the Israelis are grateful.

I was having lunch with my great aunt on Yom Hazikaron, and happened to mention this exact thing to her. How strange it is to go from mourning to partying. My aunt informed me that that's the way it's always been in Israel. She remembers the day that Israeli was officially declared a state. She told me how here and my great uncle were at a movie when it happened. They left the movie theater, and people were dancing and partying in the streets. Minutes later, the war started and soldiers began encouraging people to get inside and find shelter. This is Israel. The land of insane extremes.

So, my friends and I did what everyone else in Israel did that night. We celebrated. We had to Rabin Square, and it was absolute maddness. Little kids ran around with shaving cream, or whipped cream, or something. People had flags, blow up flags. There was a concert in the middle of the square. And my friends and I headed to a party on the roof of the mall that sits beside Rabin Square. We were there to watch the fireworks go off.

Everywhere you went there was this energy. Everyone was happy and partying. Now, maybe I just never went to the right place on the 4th or July, but I never experienced and Independence day like this. I've never seen so many flags before in my life. Everyone has them. On houses, cars, motorcycles, on the streets, in stores... And everyone is out on the streets. It's really quite nice to see a whole country come together for something.

The Simple Pleasures in Life

Today is a lovely spring day in Tel Aviv. Warm, sunny, slight breeze. Perfect. And it's a Saturday, which, in Israel, means most places are closed. I woke up this morning, trying to decide what to do. I had to take advantage of the weather. First thoughts, as always from a So Cal girl, beach? But I realized that if I thought it was a nice beach day, so would every single other Tel Avivi. Wandering and picture taking was out of the question since my shoulder's been hurting from the last two days of aggressive picture taking (not to mention my computer complaining about all the disk space I'm using). Hiking or traveling wasn't even an option, since the buses don't run on Saturdays.

And then I thought it would be nice to spend a day doing what many other Tel Avivi would be doing. Sit at a nice coffee shop. In my case, of course, this means bringing a book with me. So this is precisely what I did...


The hard part, is trying to find a cafe that's not packed full of people, because, as mentioned, this is what many other Tel Avivi do on the weekend. But I recalled passing a cute little coffee shop the previous week, that, despite being on Dizengoff (one of the busiest streets in Tel Aviv) there had been almost no one there the previous Saturday.

Crossing my fingers, I headed to Bar Giyora. I walk in, and there's only one other family in the bar. I sat down, ordered a Chai Latte and a bagel, and sat and read in the outdoor, covered patio. And while sitting there, feeling the slight breeze, enjoying my Chai, I couldn't help but smile.

I've always been one that gets amused easily. That tries to see the good and beauty in the simple things. I mean, look at my photography aesthetic. Talk about a simple pleasure!

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Last week was Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day). Today is Yom Hazikaron (Remembrance day for soldiers lost defending the country, and those killed in terrorist attacks). Not the happiest of weeks in Israel. On both days, there's a siren that goes off.

On Yom Hashoah, the siren went off at 10am, while I was at work. I received a mass text from my program a few minutes earlier explaining what was about to happen, when, and what to do. At 10am, when the siren went off, everyone stood, and my normally crowded, busy office went silent. I thought (or at least hoped) there would be a noise to start, followed by silence, and then another noise to let us know it was over. No such luck. The loud siren continued to wail for the entire 2 minutes or so. And yet, oddly, there was silence. I would have liked to be outside to see it on the street, but it was interesting enough to see how my office went silent.

Last night was the first of two sirens that go off on Yom Hazikaron. It was at 8pm. Me and some friends had just left the apartment and were heading for the ceremony at Rabin Square. As we were about to cross the intersection, the siren went off. Everything stopped. People stood on all four corners of the intersection. Pedestrians crossing stopped in the middle of the street. Cars stopped, buses pulled over. And again, despite the sirens, there was an eerie silence. One thing I did note, though, there was a man across the street, with dogs. Everything stopped, but the dogs continued to move, restless. They seemed so out of place.

Siren number three went off today at 11am. I had wanted to be in a crowded place since this was the final siren of the year. As a result, I headed to Rabin Square. Rabin Square is located on a very busy street, Ibn Gvirol. As I'm walking, to find a good spot to stand and watch people stop, I hear someone call my name. I look up, and two of the girls from my program were sitting on top of the giant statue in Rabin Square (this is the picture). Their view was better than mine, but, again, it was still quite amazing to watch as the buses stopped and people inside rose to their feet. People at the coffee shops all stood, many with their heads down, remembering.

I remember in school a few times having a moment of silence. I can't recall the reason. Perhaps in honor of Memorial day, perhaps when a student was killed in a car accident. Regardless, that was one school, only maybe 2,000 people trying to remain silent, and it never really seemed to work. I never really had that impact. But for an entire country to stop together in that moment of silence. It's an amazing thing to be a part of.

The Spirit of Remembrance

Today is Yom HaZikaron (Remembrance Day). Well, today is Yom HaZikaron Eve. I've heard, that this is the saddest day of the year for Israelis. This is the day that they remember soldiers that have died in battle, and those lost in terrorist attacks. In theory, it's like Memorial day in the US. However, I had a conversation with an Israeli (who happens to currently be a soldier as well) and he said to me that he doesn't understand Americans. During Memorial day, Americans have BBQ's, go to the beach, celebrate. We treat Memorial day as a day that marks the beginning of summer, and therefore fun. He couldn't understand why people would celebrate on a day meant to honor those lost.

My explanation is that in America, unless a family member or friend is a soldier stationed overseas, we feel so detached from it. We don't know. We don't feel. A few days ago, we had a seminar day. We learned about the Holocaust (Last week was Yom HaShoah) and we also went to Mount Hertzel, where many notable people in Israel's history are buried (Yitzhak Rabin, Golda Meir, and Herzel to name a few). Also buried there, however, are soldiers. Soldiers who fought in the war of independence, the six day war, the Yom Kippur war, the Lebanon war. Soldiers still today are buried there. The seminar day ended up being a bit of a flop. It was well intentioned, but as most of Mt. Herzel was roped off in preparation for tonight's Yom Hazikaron ceremony, as well as the insane amount of people there, it didn't really leave us with the impression they were probably hoping for.

That said, one thing stuck out in my mind. The director of the program, Elana, told us that in Israel, Yom Hazikaron is moving for everyone. Everyone in the country has lost someone in their first circle. Not friends of friends, or friend's of co-workers, or family members of friends, but their friends, their family, their co-workers.

Tonight I went with most of the others on my program to a Yom Hazikaron ceremony at Rabin Square. There were thousands of people. When the ceremony started, it became quite. People listened to one sad speech after another, sang along to one sad song after another, and cried at each depressing video about a young boy lost. When you looked around, you could see it, but more so, you could feel that just about everyone there (and I say that in reference to people visiting) was thinking about someone. Remembering someone. Ironically, on the way back home, one of my friends mentioned that she, too, was remembering what Elana had said.

Another thing that stuck out in my mind. When the speaker was reading something, he said that once a year we remember. We don't remember a nameless person. We remember someone dear to us. And that's exactly what you felt. It was absolutely amazing to be a part of that. To feel a nation remembering those dear to them, those gone.

Laundry Day!

Today is laundry day. This is where I'm sitting (picture courtesy of their website). No, I did not leave my laundry in a gross laundromat to have a cup of coffee, this is my laundromat. Really. Laundry, cafe, and you can rent dvds. Also, if it wasn't fully obvious by the fact that I'm sitting here on my laptop, there's also wireless. Forgot your computer? They rent laptops. Talk about an awesome idea for a laundromat. I woke up this morning, wanting to go sit in a cafe, have breakfast. Then I realized I could go to Dizi and get laundry done at the same time.

Slightly long rant about laundry. Just wanted to show that I'm enjoying all aspects of my current life in Israel. And so you understand where I'm actually doing laundry. I found another picture on Dizi's website that makes it a little bit clearer. Maybe...

"Don't Let Indifference Kill Him"

The title of this post is what is written on the flag in this picture. There's another that says "Gilad is still Alive." Both flags refer to a soldier, Gilad Shalit, who was kidnapped from his base near the border with Gaza. As of the day I wrote this, he's been in captivity for 1386 days (according to Haaretz Newspaper which keeps track down to the second).

Many people have heard about Gilad, and there's a huge controversy regarding him. While people want him to return, others ask, "At what price?" The Israeli government would be dealing with Terrorists, freeing Terrorists, and possible setting a precedent for future kidnappings.

I'm not going to go into detail into what is the correct course of action. What I do what to touch upon is the fact that you see these flyers EVERYWHERE. One thing that has always impressed me about Israelis is the length they go for one another...

An story that is now somewhat ironic, that Gilad Shalit wrote when he was a little boy.

Kibbutz Geva

During Passover, I had a week long vacation. Me, as well as half the country. Since most people have off, most people travel and it's an expensive time to go anywhere. That said, I didn't really want to spend the entire week at my apartment in Tel Aviv, so I went to visit family up north, in Kibbutz Geva.

The concept of a Kibbutz is something that I've always liked. How it works in reality may be another story, but it always seemed so ideal to me. Recently I read the book "The Haj." It takes place in Palestine in the 1920's and continues through Israel's independence and beyond. I don't actually remember what year the story ends. The main focus of the story is the Palestinians, and, in fact, it's written from the point of view of a Palestinian boy. The thing that struck out the most in my mind, however, is the way they talked about the ridiculous Jews who came to start a Kibbutz in a land of swamps where nothing would ever grow. But the turned the swamps into fertile fields. And then the Palestinians tried to forcefully get rid of the Jews, but despite the numbers against them and the fact that many got sick with Malaria or some other illness, the Jews kept their grounds. And during the war of independence, when it would have been smarter for the Jews to move to cities to protect themselves, those living in Kibbutzim stayed against the odds to protect their land and make sure it remained Israeli. So, I have a lot of respect for the first Kibbutnick's.

While many Kibbutzim have changed and no longer have the same ideals, Kibbutz Geva still remains as close to it's former self. There's a museum that reminds people of what their ancestors went through in the beginning.

My Dad's cousin came to pick me up from
Afula, the nearest city. They came in the Kibbutz car. One that they can sign up for and take when needed. When we arrived at the kibbutz, we went straight to the Hadar Ochel (Food Room). Breakfast and lunch are eaten in a large dining room. There's no cooking, no cleaning dishes. Unless this is where you work. The way that you contribute to the Kibbutz. From there, I was shown to one of her son's room (more like a small apartment). The kids move out to their own rooms during their teens. It seemed strange, although, realistically, they're still in walking distance to their parents.

I spent most of the weekend outdoors. Walking around the Kibbutz, driving through the countryside. While I love Tel Aviv, it was nice to take a break from the city. To hear birds and wind, rather than cars and people yelling. And this time of year was wonderful. Warm weather. nice breeze, blue skies, flower blooming... Like So. Cal, there is a very short green season, just after the rains. Everything was green!

I talked to my dad's cousin a lot about like on the Kibbutz. She admits it's not for everyone, but she loves it. She doesn't have a lot of possessions, but things are taken care for her. She works outside of the Kibbutz, but it goes towards the Kibbutz. In return she gets safety, peace of mind over her kids, food a couple times a day, laundry. Rather than deal with things that most housewives do on a daily basis, she gets to talk walks through the fields, read, paint, take a pottery class. Be free to enjoy the beauty of nature.

I wonder if I would be able to handle it, though. Everyday surrounded by the same people. Everyone in everyone's business. Not being able to get what I want when I want it. Seems like an interesting lifestyle...

Passover in the Promised Land

Today is Passover Eve. Passover has always been my favorite holiday. I enjoy the seder, a chance to get to get with family and friends who might as well be family. Believe it or not, I also enjoy the food. Especially on the night of the seder, before you're already sick of it, and just want normal food. So I was interested to see what it would be like in Israel.

I've already learned through Purim that a Jewish holiday in a Jewish country is waaaaaay different than what I'm used to. And I've already noticed Passover differences. For starters, I didn't have to buy my Passover food months in advance for fear that they'd run out of food.

I went to the market this afternoon, anxious to get there before stores close, because, of course, stores close early on seder night. As on most holidays, I was not the only one doing last minute shopping, however, there weren't nearly as many people at the market as I would have thought. Shopping was an experience. Me, the American, went in looking for the Passover section of the market. As I'm wondering through aisles, I see shelf after shelf covered with what looks like paper, and signs announcing that what is hidden is not kosher for passover. Makes it so easy to but food.

I got back to the apartment, and my roommate, who had gone to get food from a nearby restaurant was also back. While this restaurant wasn't kosher for Passover, their menu had changed. The bread was made of matzo meal.

On the way to be picked up for my seder, I walked along King George, past Dizengoff Center. This is usually one of the busiest area. There are always people, and cars.
Well, almost always. It felt almost like a ghost town.

I arrived at my family's for seder, and was interested to see if the songs would be different, or different tunes. I imagined that the seder would be much different than the one I'm used to. Somewhat surprisingly, everything was the way I'm used to it. Although, considering they're family, and I do seder with Israelis, I guess it wasn't all that strange for it to be the same.

The biggest difference, though, was not having my family. As much fun as you may be having wherever you go, holidays are a good reminder of how much you miss your family.

Purim Actually is as Awesome as Halloween

In the US, Halloween is usually fun night out. A chance to get dressed up in a way you don't normally have the nerve to, party, drink. But what about Purim. Jews sometimes describe Purim to those that don't know as the Jewish Halloween, but that isn't really the case in the US. Purim in Israel, however, is an entirely different affair.

What I should mention first, and it's something that I just learned, after 25 years of being a Jew, is that there is a fast before Purim. And that Purim is considered one of the holiest days of the year. That said, there are certain things that we are told to do on Purim. One of those is, "to drink until you can't tell Haman from Mordechai" (or Mordechai from Esther).

This year, Purim fell on Sunday. The weekend here in Israel is Friday and Saturday, meaning that the Purim parties started on Thursday night. And since we didn't have class on Sunday, went through Sunday. Thursday afternoon, walking down the street, people were already in costume. Kids, of course, adults, teens...

I went on Saturday night (Purim Eve) to a neighborhood called Florentine. There is usually a street party. We had heard it was canceled, but decided to try a bar there anyways. When we arrived, there were people filling the street (which is what the picture tries to show). Hundreds of people in costume on the streets. Music coming from balconies and bars in the area. Awesome vibe because, Purim is about celebrating and rejoicing, and people take that seriously.

For someone who's not the biggest fan of Halloween, Purim was a nice surprise.

Shabbat in the Negev

After Candle lighting, we were given several options of Shabbat activities; going to temple, discussions, yoga. I decided to go off on my own. It was golden hour, my favorite time of day, and I was in the desert. Behind the rooms of the hostel where we were staying is a canyon and it's absolutely beautiful.

I walked along the canyon, and soon ended up by Ben Gurion's grave. The area around his grave is beautiful; a desert oasis. There's grass and trees, and giant stones. I found a nice slab of stone away from the only other people there, an Israeli tour group that was being read an excerpt. In front of me was the canyon. To the right, I watched the sunset. The panorama at the top is an almost 360 degree view of where I sat. I sat there for a while, alone, feeling the desert in me. It was an absolutely perfect moment.

African Refugees

Slightly random topic, considering I’m in Israel. Today’s optional lecture/tour was on African Refugees. It’s not really something that I ever thought of when I thought about Israel. And, apparently, up until a few years ago, it wasn’t something that was really an issue. The first refugees to come to Israel in mass came from Darfur. They had originally escaped to Egypt, but they weren’t treated well in Egypt, and they soon crossed into Israel.

Sudan is a mostly Arab country, mostly Muslim. Not exactly the demographic that likes the Jews. In fact, the Sudanese passports say specifically that the passports are valid everywhere, except Israel (Israel being the one and only exemption. So why would these people escape to Israel. Well, one, Israel is a fairly westernized country. But also, when asked, they responded “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

The first wave of refugees, as stated, came from Darfur to escape the atrocities that were occurring there. The first several hundred were given status in Israel. As for the other refugees who have since come (from Darfur, but also from south Sudan and Eritrea) have not been given any type of status. The question is, what to do to them.

There are two major issues that came up in this discussion. Both trace back to the reason behind Israel being established. We Jews were persecuted. Not only was the government not protecting us, but they were the ones condemning us, without cause. And when we tried to leave, no one wanted to give us refuge. This country was formed as a place of refuge. So how can we let others suffer through what was done to us?

At the same time, Israel was created specifically as a place of refuge for the Jews, since we had no other place to go. If we let in refugees from around the world, how will we be able to have the resources and space to allow Jews to come and take refuge is needed (or, hopefully, to come because they want to).

It’s a difficult question, and, as of now there isn’t really any legislation to deal with the issue.

So, after a conversation with a woman who works at the organization that helps both refugees and migrant workers, we went to talk to a man who came with the first wave from Darfur, one of the few who has actually gotten status. The 30 or so of us who went to the lecture crammed into his small computer store, and listened, enthralled. It’s one thing to hear about it, but it’s completely another to meet someone, to hear his story. I think our hearts all went out to him. All he wants is a place to live where he won’t be in fear of his life. All he wants from Israel is to be given information about how to acclimate himself to Israeli life. How to find work, what is needed to own a business, what the laws are… And, if the situation permits, to one day return to a peaceful Darfur, where he has fond childhood memories.

Just Another Day

Today, our mandatory afternoon activity was volunteering. To be honest, it’s kind of nice (coming from the lazy point of you) to be forced to do something good for others. We were given three options. The first was to go to an animal shelter to walk dogs. Apparently the dogs at this shelter are only allowed out of their cages if someone walks them. Sad, but not a dog person. The second option was to go to a children’s hospital and play with kids. This option was only for higher level Hebrew speakers. As a result, they came into my class (since I’m in the highest level) and tried to convince the entire class to come. I do generally like to work with kids, but I don’t like hospitals, and for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling genki (Japanese for peppy). To volunteer with kids, you have to be willing to be upbeat the entire time. While just about the whole rest of my class went, I opted for the third option. So what did I do?

The third option was to work with an organization called Leket (http://www.leket.org/english/). What this organization does is they provide food for the needy. They work with food companies and collect excess food, in other words, food that will expire in too near the future to sell to a store. They also work with farmers. We went to a plot of land that a lawyer owns with the specific person of growing all the food for charity. His biggest expense is to pick the fruit. So we went to pick. And we picked beets.

I actually thought it would be a lot harder to pick a beet than it was. They come out of the ground relatively easily. The hard part is then to rip off the leaves. The bigger the beet, the harder it is to get all of the leaves off in one go. This is also how you very quickly turn your hand (and clothing) purple. We had gloves, although, it was easily 80 degrees. When I took off the plastic gloves to get water, my hands were dripping with sweat. I tried to pull out a few beets with bare hands. It took two in order to turn my hands purple. With the sun beating down on us, it was hard work, but it quickly started to cool, and the going got easier.

At the end of the day, the 30 or so of us had picked 2.5 tons of beets to be given to the needy the following day. I’ve volunteered at random places for a day or two along the way, but for some reason this was different. Working with your hands to make a direct impact, seeing the crates filled with beets that we pick that would go to families. It really felt like we made at least a bit of a difference. And it was a pretty awesome experience. Maybe I’ll go back and pick some oranges.

First Couple of Weeks

I’ve now been Israel for a couple of weeks, and let me just say, I don’t seem to have the best of luck right when I move somewhere new. When I arrived in Israel, I stayed with Ken for a few days. The first couple of days, I was deliriously tired. While it took me a whole almost 24 hours to arrive, I hadn’t slept in closer to 36 when I got here. And I didn’t manage to sleep well the first day. I therefore spent the second day sleeping. And then I got sick. It took me a week before I learned this, but it ended up being bronchitis (or some other fun infection in my chest). And, of course, the weather turned cold, but I’ll get to that.

The first few days I spent in a moshav near Tel Aviv. I was having a hard time understanding the concept of a moshav, but it made sense when I got there. It’s basically a neighborhood where people have fields and do agriculture. Different from a kibbutz in that everyone owns their own house/ land… After a few days, I headed to Jerusalem to stay with Sarah. A friend that I had met in Italy, and lived with in San Diego. We did a little bit of sight sighing at the shook, and Ben Yehuda street. And then it started to rain. And Jerusalem gets COLD. It was actually supposed to snow a couple of day (thankful no snow). I say thankfully because I was sick and cold and didn’t have the clothes for snow. It could have be interesting to see Jerusalem in snow.

My program started, and it was a little bit like being on birthright again. We’re about 90 people and it was slightly intense. The people, as a whole are nice, though. So, I won’t go into detail on everything we did during orientation, but the highlight, for me, was the Kotel (Western Wall) Tunnel Tour. I never realized what a small portion of the entire wall we actually see. The tour took us through tunnels along some of the underground part of the wall. You could see the way the stones were originally carved. There were models that showed exactly how the temple looked, and what we now see as the Kotel. You also get to a spot that is the closest you can get to the Dome of the Rock (which was once the holiest spot in Jerusalem for the Jews), and there are even columns along the road that used to run along the wall. Way interesting. I TOTALLY recommend it.

The rain stopped on Saturday, although Jerusalem was still quite cold. We returned to Tel Aviv on Sunday, and the temperature went up and up. The first night, I went out to dinner with four people, and it was so nice to not be part of a giant group.

I've gotten into a fun cycle of Ulpan (Hebrew classes) and lectures. We got out to bars in the area sometimes. The location of my apartment is AMAZING, the room is nice, but there have been problems. The biggest of which are the heater was broken (it finally got fixed yesterday). Our wall was leaking (hopefully fixed this morning), and our bathroom light still doesn't work. It's not that the light is just burnt out. We've tried changing bulbs. It's the wiring. We've been taking showers with the door open. The other day my roommate set off the smoke detector with the steam from the shower. I bought a candle, so it's not pitch black. Where is Craig when you need him?

Pics to come soon...

The Start of Another Adventure

As I sit here at the Heathrow airport, waiting the several hours before my flight to Israel. Neither at home, nor at my destination, I can’t help but reflect on how I got here. Anyone who knows me knows how ridiculously (sometimes almost painfully) indecisive I can be. So how is it that, for the third time, I find myself off to live in another country, completely different than my own. And how, while I do spend hours and hours thinking about these decisions, does everything happen so quickly once I get to the point where I decided to go all in? With Italy, I spent a few years trying to decide where to study abroad. I spent hours in the Study Abroad Office. And yet, once I got Siena in my head, it was a matter of weeks before I decided, applied, and was accepted and well on my way. With Japan, when I finally decided to apply, I sent in my application, had two interviews, and was well on my way within a month or two. Granted, the whole placement and process took a few months, but on my part, it seemed almost instant. And now, probably the most intense. I’d been wanting to spend some time in Israel for as long as I can remember. Given my parents growing up there, and still having family there, and, as practiced as it may seem, being a Jew, it’s something that I’ve always wanted to do. I started thinking about ways to make this a possibility only a few short months ago. I first heard about this program at the end of November, applied in the beginning of December, and now a short month later, I sit in the airport prepared to go.

People have been asking, “Are you excited?” The obvious answer is yes, although, the weird thing, even though I am sitting at the airport more than half way there, it still doesn’t seem real. I still can’t believe that I am once again heading off on quite probably one of my most random adventures yet. I’m wondering if it is because everything has happened so quickly.

And then part of me wonders what on earth I was thinking when making this decision. Not in a bad way. I’m beyond excited, looking forward to it, expecting an amazing experience out of it, but as several people have recently pointed out, I’m not getting any younger. I will soon have to start thinking about getting married and having babies (in that order). But I know this was the right decision for the moment. There’s not a shred of doubt in me. And, as my wise younger sister pointed out, if all I feel is excited (not nervous or anxious or scared, as would be completely normal in this situation) I must have made the right decision.

I go into this, however, with a feeling that I haven’t had in the past adventures. That this will be my last really big move. Don’t get me wrong, I will always love and desire travelling. I already have several trips planned in my head that I plan on doing one day. If I have a job that allows me the flexibility to spend a few months backpacking, wild horses couldn’t stop me. But as far as uprooting myself, making a move to another world, I’m confident that this will be the last giant adventure.

That said, to be 25, to have lived in the US, Italy, Japan, and soon to be Israel. To have traveled to Canada, the UK (although only London specifically), France, Spain, Switzerland, Austria, the Netherlands (again, only Amsterdam), Greece, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Macau, China, Thailand, New Zealand, Australia, French Polynesia… No complaints out of me!