Halloween

Halloween.


You are a wonderful holiday. I wish people here were interested in celebrating you.


I've been to my internship twice since I've been back in Israel. Each time I went, I asked a different person whether we were going to be doing anything for Halloween. The answers? The first was that Halloween is a Christian holiday--I mehhed and not-so-much-really-and-actually-some-Christians-really-hate-it, but my very nice coworker seemed utterly uninterested in introducing any Halloween-related info to the curriculum. The second person I asked said that it makes more sense to do Halloween-related vocabulary around Purim, and besides the kids wouldn't be interested because they don't know anything about it. (sidenote: in my opinion, everyone is more interested in things they are absolutely ignorant about. Look! Parents in England let their small children knock on strangers' doors while dressed as monsters and then they carve up pumpkins and then they all try to scare each other and ooooo a black cat and a bat and a witch and a haunted house and eyeballs. So fun, right?)


There's nothing wrong with not wanting to waste time on foreign holidays, but in language classes that I have taken, there's always been a strong cultural component. In Spanish class, we made sugar skulls for Dia de los Muertos. In Arabic, we learned about Ramadan and went to a mosque for iftar (break-fast in the evening). My school's French classes were always having food days, to the point that the rest of us were actively jealous. In my own personal non-universal experience, a big part of language classes is culture.


At the English center, the cultures of English-speaking nations seem to be less of a priority. I'm somewhat thinking that this might be because English is the global language of the moment--everyone speaks it, and everyone needs it, while we Americans learn languages in high school with vacations in mind more than everyday life.


In my opinion, the center should have done it up for Halloween for one very important reason: it's one of my very favorite holidays and I miss it.


Happy Halloween!

Old City

Jerusalem was not what I expected. Everything is supposed to be constructed with Jerusalem stone, and in the old parts of the city, where the stone is rough cut, this is beautiful. In the newer parts of the city, the stone looks more like thin slices of affordable facade over concrete. Altogether, it is really hard to describe. Should taken notes. In any event, it is easy enough to find pictures or descriptions on the net, and a map and any news organization would be happy demonstrate sectarianism in the city. (Actually, I fully encourage looking this up. Jerusalem has a fascinating history, and I know almost nothing about it. Every time we have a class or reading on it, cognizance of my own ignorance bashes me again. But in a good way).


Most interesting tidbits from our city tour guide: apparently, tour guides tailor their language and the locations they go to based on the religion of the group. Catholics and Evangelicals believe that the Crucifixion occurred in two completely different places, for instance. Also, there's a relatively huge number of Mormons in Jerusalem, which really surprised me. 


Eventually I should have pictures, with commentary, up, but it might be awhile. As it so happens, I made some friends in Jordan, and then one of them was taking a picture with my camera, and then I left, and then like 20 miles later, I realized I didn't have it... Anyway. Camera will be in the mail soonish, and then I'll have pictures from Jerusalem and Jordan. Woot. 

Back from Jordan!

Hi! Safely returned from my Jordan trip. It was quite the interesting experience; I had a great time, but there are definitely downsides to traveling there alone as a woman. I'm going to do a more complete post later of my adventures (and there were many!) but for the meantime, here's words on the Holocaust Museum, which we visited as a group last week. Also, not cheerful, obviously. Sorry.


The museum looks like a prism filled with concrete, and pushed into the side of the hill. To reach the door, we walked across a clattering, wide wooden bridge. Inside, it was dark. Turning to the right, I could see down the immense length of the museum, illuminated in part by natural light. It was a hard contrast to the Herzl Museum that I had visited only hours previously, which had featured jovially self-aware propagandist films and glowing statues of people. The Herzl Museum didn't try to present truth--it sought to tell the story of a semi-mythical national hero.


The Holocaust Museum also has a goal: to transform the easily-recited numbers of dead into innumerable stories of broken lives, broken families...


Once you enter the museum, you cannot turn back. It is not shaped like a flower, enabling the visitor to flit from petal to petal and learn a bit about this, and a bit about that. Instead, the visitor must walk through every exhibit before reaching the exit, forced to traverse chronological cutbacks through ever increasing emotion.


What was worst for me were the shoes. A coffin-sized pit in the floor, filled with age-blackened shoes of victims...


The word "murdered" is repeated throughout the museum. It is a word that makes it impossible to ignore that the responsibility for millions of deaths lies on human shoulders, and that every single murdered person dies as a result of human cowardice, complicity, or consent. "Killed" is an easy word; "murdered" is much harder.


There is so much more to the Holocaust Museum, but I feel hesitant as to what words would be appropriate. Should I say that the story of partisans starving in the woods was a comforting relief from the rest of the museum? Should I say how it feels to see endless binders filling a room with the names of the dead? Should I say that sometimes I am terrified of the seemingly endless human capacity for evil?


Maybe I will just say that after walking out of the museum and on to the sunny paths surrounding it, after smelling sweet flowers, and touching fresh air, I know that someday I will need to plant myself a garden, and grow beautiful things in it, and pretend, once in a while, that nothing ever goes wrong in the world or in the human heart.

Trip South

Hi!


So I've safely returned from the southern parts of Israel, and I'm headed off to Jordan tomorrow morning. I'll do a more detailed blog post about what all we did when I get back, since we did a LOT. We had a pretty packed itinerary.


For now, here's a basic, basic rundown: Holocaust Museum, Herzl Museum, Mount Herzl, Old City of Jerusalem, Jerusalem Holy Sites, intense discussion at new center in Sheikh Jarrah, "Interfaith Encounter Association" discussion, Massada, Dead Sea, movement session and dinner at Hangar Adama, starry night walk and unsuccessful scorpion hunting, mini-walk at Ramon Crater, long bike ride at Sde Boker, and tea at a Bedouin village.


Make it through that last paragraph? I'm impressed. :)


Note on the awesome words from last post: the past couple of days I'd been running into awesome words, like "cachinnate," which turned up in The Tenant at Wildfell Hall. And I wanted to use them, and then they were semi-alphabetical, and you know how these things go when there's a dictionary at hand. Then when I looked back at the list just now, I didn't remember half of them. Need to make flashcards, or something.


Anyway. I can't promise interesting blog posts anytime soon, since I'll be without internet, and then it is midterms and visas and oops I forgot to read that book time, but eventually I'll do a post on most of the things we did. Gonna be awesome.

Upcoming Trips

Hi!


Tomorrow I am headed to Jerusalem and the Negev with the rest of the NYU Tel Aviv crew, and then next week I am doing a short trip to Jordan by myself, so I may not be online for a while.


In the meantime, here is a list of excellent words. I challenge you to use as many of the words as you can in a single conversation, with someone who can't know your nefarious aims. Also, the word must make some sense in context, and you can't simply ask what the word means. You can use any form of the word (noun, adverb, gerund--whatever). Rules clear? Excellent!


The list:


Anodyne
Baleen
Cachinnate
Damask
Edulcorate
Farrago
Gambade
Habile
Idempotent
Jalousie
Keek
Lobate
Macerate
Nebulizer
Obloquy
Palatalize
Quiff
Rabbet
Sniggle
Tessera
Ullage
Valetudinarian
Wyvern
Xylography
Zetetic


Good luck!

Yom Kippur

Hi!


Yesterday was Yom Kippur--well, more accurately, Yom Kippur was Friday evening to yesterday evening at 5:54. It is an extremely important holy day in Judaism, and it is the best holiday that I have ever not celebrated.


In Israel, everything shuts down. There are no trains, planes, buses, sherutes, or taxis--only the occasional emergency vehicle. There are no television or radio broadcasts. 


Friday night, at one in the morning, some friends and I went out on our bicycles to see what a fasting city looks like at night. The streets were empty but for the occasional group of teenagers standing together with their bicycles. We rode our bikes in the street, weaving between the dotted lines that normally separate lanes of traffic. 


We cruised through intersections, completely unconcerned with the possibility of cars; it was quiet enough that we could have heard a car from a mile off. The traffic lights flashed from red to green and back again pointlessly--we wondered why they weren't turned off.


It was surreal reaching our destination: the highway. Normally, the highway is a congested mass of cars whose drivers are convinced that there is no such thing as a blind spot and that tailgating is just being friendly. Now... it felt like being in the iconic scene of any post-apocalyptic movie (but without the fear of unexpected zombie attacks or horrifying, highly transmissible diseases--more importantly, without the well-justified fear of deadly accidents that occur too often on all highways). 


Being there felt unexpectedly freeing. So much space, under a huge moon... We passed people lounging on the highway, passed under overpasses and alongside graffiti... This, I thought, was how I city should always be.


I thought the same thing yesterday, on my three bike rides. 


Bike ride #1: I went by myself, just to see what there was to see. Groups of kids on tiny bicycles pedaled furiously in what looked to be second gear, wearing little helmets--the first helmets I've seen out in force since I've been here. Families sat in the park, enjoying the sun. Parents walked alongside toddlers scooting along on those little bikes without pedals, or held their 8 year olds up on their bikes with a broom handle stuck under their seats. Again, this is the way a city ought to be. 


Bike ride #2: A friend and I went out riding again, with the long term goal being the beach. We enjoyed huffing our way up hills and enjoying the smooth, recently resurfaced asphalt helping gravity to make us speed down the hill with the wind in our faces. The beach was gorgeous. There weren't as many people as usual there, and the restaurants and hotels hadn't covered the soft sand in for-rent lounge chairs. Perfect couple of hours at the beach.


Bike ride #3: Another trip to the highway! This didn't seem quite as apocalyptic as the trip in the middle of the night had. For one thing, it was daytime. The highway is an amazingly great place without cars.


I would love it so much if we could not celebrate Yom Kippur in other parts of the world too. I love the quiet, the family feeling, and I appreciate that other people are having really meaningful religious reflections as they fast, and most of all, I love the absence of cars.

Students in Israel

I recently started an internship at an organization in Ramla that acts in conjunction with local schools to teach English in a non-academic setting, by which I mean games, activities, and media instead of memorization, grammar rules, and tests. The organization's teachers tailor their programs to dovetail along with what the kids are learning in a more rigid academic setting at their regular schools.

How I get to Ramla (otherwise known as a totally skippable paragraph): bike to bus station (leave guest house around 6:00 am), take 7:05 am bus to Ramla, arrive in Ramla at about 7:50, then either take a sherute or walk to the center. I'm not entirely sure at all how long it takes to walk if one doesn't get lost, but I think about half the time it took me on Wednesday. Is this a surprise? Probably not.

Everyone working at the center is really nice, and very welcoming. I helped/hindered in different teachers' classes on the days I went. Some of the teachers command more respect than others--or maybe just command more attention. Many of the students were actively very rude--to a point that I would not have tolerated, had I been in charge/the students been back-talking me. Classes are very noisy, and often completely ignore commands. Some teachers tried the placating and reasoning approach; note for those interested, this does not work. Other teachers threw misbehavers out of class, and this worked better for those who remained, but it was such a practiced response that I am not sure that some of the kids are spending any time in class whatsoever.

I've heard different explanations from different people about why students in Israel on the whole aren't as respectful as students in other parts of the world. One of the center teachers said that it is because this generation's parents feel completely willingly to challenge teacher authority, and make it okay for their children to do so also. One of the NYU Tel Aviv people suggested that it is an extension of Israeli culture in general--which tends to be very brash and informal. Children call adults, including teachers, by their first names. Whatever the reason, classes here can get out of control quickly.

To be clear, the students are super sweet. They made an effort to communicate with me in English, they did the assigned activities, and for the most part, they smiled and laughed throughout the day.

Biggest problem, in my opinion: pervasive misuse of Google Translate. Google Translate is an excellent tool. Occasionally I use it to translate pages from Hebrew to English. This is helpful. But there's no way to pretend for a moment that the English it produces is anywhere near good. It only conveys a general meaning. Many of the students think that it is acceptable, in class, to decide what they want to say in Hebrew, write it, and have Google do the work for them. Note: this is not acceptable. Also, many students thought it was alright to copy and paste off the internet.

My takeaway: these kids do not need to be using computers. I understand that they like them, and that they're fun, and they are learning valuable 21st century skills, but the internet is a huge distraction. Until their regular-school teachers teach them how to research, how to cite sources, and how to properly use an online translate tool, the computer is not helpful. Sooo, what am I going to do to implement my absurdly strong opinions that I have after spending only like 6 hours at the center? Haven't decided yet.

Final notes: some of the students have a really excellent natural grasp of English! A pair of boys were doing a dialogue activity about doing things with friends, and they had to come up with another exchange:

Original text:

A: [Something, something, I don't remember, see a movie...]

B: No, I can't. I'm doing something with friends tonight.

Students' added dialogue:

A: Oh, you have friends?

B: Haha, very funny.

Ack!! Such good coloquial English!!! It made me super happy. 

I'll definitely have more to say about Ramla and the center and the students after I have been there longer. Probably not for another couple weeks though--Jewish holidays mean no public school for another 2 weeks, which means no work at the center for me! Also means that I have 3 days of school between now and the 23rd. October is a good month.

Staring

Culture shock: it happens. I think that people on this trip have been surprised by many things they've encountered here: young soldiers with guns everywhere, the focus on security, learning that Tel Aviv is the fashion capital of Israel (what? What?! Still am not quite believing it.)... I've been most startled by how people look at each other here. Namely, staring.


People stare at me all. the. time. It is a huge change from New Mexico, and an even bigger change from New York. In New York, I went to a party with an "anything but (conventional) clothes" theme, which meant I was wearing a pretty awesome dress that I made out of heavy black garbage bags. So my friends and I are walking down the street in absurd outfits, and most people still didn't want us to know that they were looking at us--heads stay straight, eyes slide sideways. In America, if you're interested in someone, for whatever reason, you try your best to make sure that they have no idea that you're looking at them.


Here, in Tel Aviv, I'll glance up, meet someone's eyes, look away instantly--of course--look up again to make sure that they have looked away, and they haven't. And they are absolutely not embarrassed in the least to be caught staring. If I smile instead of looking away--going for the New Mexican-style friendly hi-we're-both-walking-our-dogs-on-the-ditch-and-don't-worry-my-dog's-on-a-leash-isn't-it-great-out-today?-kind of greeting--they quirk an eyebrow in surprise. "I don't know you, what are you smiling at me for?" is implied.


It's quite different than what I'm used to. I'm expecting reverse culture shock when I go back home--"Hey, wait a minute now, why isn't anybody looking at me like they might look at a camel at the zoo? Why is everyone doing weird eye flicks at me? What is this?"


Maybe Israeli parents never berate their children for staring in public. Or maybe I just run into a population of people with absolutely no shyness all the time. Hmm.