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...