Last Day

This is my last day in Tel Aviv. My flight leaves at 11 tonight, and 3 (!) flights later, I'll be back home. Yay, home!!! For so many reasons!


It's hard to leave, but I think it's time. I've had an amazing time here, and I'm afraid that I'll never be able to come back. But, at the same time, I think that this trip has really come full circle. 


Almost the first thing I did in Tel Aviv was go swimming in the Mediterranean, and on Tuesday we were able to go swimming again. Somehow, spending just a few minutes in some salty water or lying on soft beach sand makes everything seem right.


Yesterday, two friends and I went and had pizza and lemonade at a nearby place, and chatted. There was a bomb threat a couple feet away, but life just kept on keeping on, probably in part because there wasn't a bomb. Plus, yummy pizza. That evening, we went and had cake, followed by a trip to the store to get plane snacks. I tried an Israeli winter chocolate marshmallow puff thing that everyone has been telling me that I need to try. Then three of us went to the lounge, ate popcorn and drank hot chocolate and tea. We watched the end of Inception, and printed our boarding passes.


Leaving is tough. Saying goodbye to people who I might never see again isn't easy. But there's also so much that I have to look forward to at home. Family, friends, food... The forever adorable Donut and Ginger.


On a less sentimental note, I thought I'd throw out a couple of final observations.


Hanukkah is not an ostentatious holiday. Businesses light menorahs, but they are small, and the decorations are minimal. Turns out that my idea of Hanukkah is influenced by the wonderful, over-the-top love of Christmas in America. Speaking of, is Christmas really in a few days? It still feels like mid-Fall here, except that most everything is still green. Snow? What? What's that? What?


Free-cycling is the best. In my part of Tel Aviv, people put out clothes and shoes they don't want anymore on benches for anyone to claim. The weather is mild enough here that things don't get wrecked before people take them home.


Last observation/suggestion/note-to-self: If you ever want to get to know the layout of a city, and it has reasonably-sized streets and isn't too hilly, ride a bike. I feel like I know Tel Aviv so much better from the times that I rode my bike places than the times that I took the bus, and walking is too slow to really cover ground in a reasonable amount of time. Bikes!!

Just Life

Hi all!


Exciting news! I'm going to start reintroducing meat into my diet on Monday, in preparation for going to Yunnan, where Will assures me that I would not be able to manage a vegetarian diet. I am so excited to have a valid reason to eat meat over Christmas this year. What's that you say? There's lard in these biscochitos?? Ha, I'll have two!


That's it for today!


There's always more to say about food, vegetarianism, the lack of delicious cream cheese in Israel (but really though, why is there no cream cheese?), and the trade-off between morality and efficiency in the meat industry, but I really ought to finish my paper, which is due tonight.

Last Week of Classes

We're coming up on the end of the NYU-Tel Aviv program. Classes end on Dec 15th, and then we have our finals period, and then on the 22nd it is back to New Mexico for me. I'm going to miss Israel, but I'm also excited to be home again.


Since this is the last week of school, it's pretty much crunch time. All the assignments that we didn't have over the semester are happening all of a sudden. Papers? Tests? Work?? Arabic homework has been pretty consistent, but my other classes tended towards reading homework, with the occasional response. Now they want actual papers--absolute madness.


Actually, these are probably some of the last essays that I will need to do for a while. I finally decided on a major, and it is biology! Yay! So I won't be taking as many humanity-type classes after this semester.


But on to the happenings of the weekend!


Last Friday, my journalism class went to Jerusalem. We did an Ir Amim bus tour of East Jerusalem, which was interesting, but also cold. For a collection of their maps of Jerusalem, click here. The locations of the green line, municipal boundary, and wall are worth looking at (although the best map for this at their website is 2 years out of date, and doesn't show a difference between planned wall and existing wall).


In the afternoon, we spoke to a formerly American woman who used to live in Itamar, and now lives in a predominantly Jewish enclave in the middle of a Palestinian neighborhood in East Jerusalem. Click here if you feel like crying.


It was an interesting conversation. I know that I tend to stereotype settlers, and this woman was a surprise. She said that she wanted people to get along; she was much more interested in that than she was in whose land was whose, or who had done what to whom. She lives in Israel because it is the land that she loves, not because she feels politically motivated. She was remarkably open, sharing details of her life that I never would have inquired about without the least bit of prompting. Also, she was pretty clearly a former hippie. All in all, a conversation well worth having.

Doctors and Health

Hi!


Sorry this has been something of an uninteresting read recently. I've been a bit distracted. The most exciting thing that I've done recently is get a typhoid vaccination. And so, a blog post about a mundane trip to the travel clinic.


I needed so much help getting an appointment set up. First off, I needed help finding someplace reputable and affordable. Then I called the number, and it immediately went to a message in Hebrew listing hours of operation. I tried the number a couple of times, morning and afternoon, and it kept not being open. After going for help again, I learned that actually, the message was just a menu, and I needed to press 3. Oops. It was a relief to have someone else make my appointment for me, since I was proving unable to navigate health care in a foreign land. Thanks, Hadar!


Finding the travel clinic: off to Dizengoff Center, which is basically an absurdly confusing mall built with ramps, stairs, escalators, and second-floor passages over the street below. I found the clinic easily enough--it helped that there was a picture of a happy cartoon child on the outside.


First strange-ness: the person who tells patients what paperwork to fill out sits at a desk of regular height, and on the patient side, there are chairs to sit in. I get to sit down while you put my information in the computer?? Very odd. But then, I've never been to a travel doctor before.


I think that's probably plenty of detail on my exciting trip to the doctor's office. I should write a book on the experience, clearly. And then the sequel: A Fantastic Journey to the Reception Desk of the Chinese Embassy, Or Getting Visas in Tel Aviv.

Pre-Jerusalem Musings

I'm off to Jerusalem this Friday on a field-trip with my journalism class. I don't know exactly what we're going to be doing, but it should be interesting. It's very different from Tel Aviv.


From here, it seems to be a pretty problematic civil rights place, and not just in terms of East Jerusalem, citizenship issues, and security. Here's a recent conflict over dance, windows, advertisements, and Orthodoxy.


I don't think I mentioned this before, but on our group trip to Jerusalem, some kids threw stones at someone in our group because of her attire. I started to write that I thought that she was dressed perfectly appropriately, but what I think is or is not adequate dress doesn't really matter. Stone-throwing matters. Children are growing up thinking that it is alright to inflict a cultural standard on someone by throwing stones. Not cool.

Thanksgiving

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving here in Israel!


Some of the more talented NYU-Tel Aviv students arranged to cook a Thanksgiving meal for us, and it turned out wonderfully. Turkey, gravy, vegetarian stuffing, potatoes, yummy soup, apple crumble, apple-spice cake with cream cheese frosting and coconut sprinkled on top... So much delish. And there were lovely decorations hung up, and it was altogether an excellent holiday.


Things that are hard to find in Israel: cranberries and canned pumpkin. It was also tricky kosher-wise. Since our dining hall is kosher, we ate the cake and crumble downstairs, and there was no milk or butter involved in the actual Thanksgiving meal.


Hope your Thanksgivings were all fun!

A Fun Story and a Local Legend

Hi all!


I'm back from a group trip to the North. It was fun, although not as exciting as the last trip. This trip was less hiking and bike-riding and swimming, and more going to historical sites and wishing that I had read up on them first so that I would have more of a framework for discussion. That being said, the sites we visited were really interesting. In three days, we saw a castle ruin that had been part of the extended defenses of Damascus during the Crusades, an old wall that had protected Acre/Acco from Napoleon's advances, and the ruins of an old village that Israel confiscated from its Arab Maronite inhabitants about 50 years ago, and has yet to return (although the families of the villagers still go to their church every Sunday). So much history in such a tiny geographical area!


And now, for what I promised in the post title: a story!


Today in my Arabic class, we were talking about our trip, and my Arabic teacher shared that when he was growing up, the Pope visited the Holy Land (for those who want dates, this is 1964). The Pope visited Nazareth, and everyone knew that he was going to Cana next, so the people of Rayna--Christians and Muslims alike--waited outside in the hope that he would stop in their town on the way. Of course, he didn't stop, but just kept going, and that was that. Now, apparently, there is a local legend in Rayna that at one point, on his way to Nazareth, Jesus came through Rayna on a donkey. The local explanation for why the Pope didn't stop there too? Some people from Rayna stole Jesus' donkey's saddle.

Clean-up

Yesterday was lovely.


First, breakfast. Then Jaffa to help fix up Abu Al Abed Restaurant. Then half an hour scrubbing paint off my hands (how is paint so sticky?? The bus driver on the way back wouldn't take my money cause it was icky and blue. Which is, of course, fine by me. Future money-saving strategy: coat my hands with paint before walking out the door). Then afternoon raininess!


I think there were 7 or 8 of us who went down to the restaurant and helped the owners get ready for re-opening today. At this point, there was still a lot of work to be done. Absolutely everything needed to either be repainted or scrubbed down; smoke really gets everywhere, even from a relatively small fire. An (absurdly) huge number of dishes needed to be done, also because of smoke. They were also putting up new paneling in the kitchen, over the old.


One of us broke a video camera and documented everything, so if she posts it in an edited, non-embarrassing form on the internet somewhere, I'll link to it. Really, though, it's going to be embarrassing if I'm in it at all.


Her: "What did you feel when you first walked in the restaurant today?"
Me: "Umm... nothing?" By which I meant, I felt better than I felt when I first heard about it, since actually being there on the scene meant that I had the opportunity to make things less bad, but thought that she was at least somewhat going for a shock value angle. Oh well. Eloquence can't happen to everybody.

Re Last Post

Question was how Israeli media treats right-wing attacks against minorities.


I'm really not sure. The article I linked to in the last post is from a very reputable Israeli news outlet (where a bunch of people from NYU-Tel Aviv intern). I can't say anything about Hebrew-language media, and actually I read mostly Aljazeera (I will say that Aljazeera's slant wasn't particularly apparent to me until I came to Israel).


Just in terms of general attitudes: people talk about Israel's army, and how every Israeli serves, but that's really not the case. Almost every non-ultra-Orthodox Jewish Israeli serves. Arabs are not required to serve, even if they are citizens. The Druze are drafted, but their inclusion was more or less at their request. Point being: what does it mean to be Israeli? What does it mean to be a non-Jewish citizen of a Jewish state?


My favorite explanation of the phrase "Jewish democracy" is that Israel is a home for all the Jews of the world--but for the people living in Israel, it is a pure democracy. This explanation allows for Law of Return, while preventing second class citizenship for non-Jews. But this explanation is not a reality of life in Israel. Life is not equal--and many people are pretty positive that it shouldn't be.


I can ask around about media, and see what people say. I know that the first week I was here, I listened to a conversation between some of my professors about the place of media. One of them felt like the media overstepped its boundaries when it promoted the tent city protest--he didn't have a problem with the protest itself, necessarily, but he felt like the media should not actively undermine the government. Couldn't say how popular this viewpoint is, but it does seem different than the US, where some rival media companies pander for attention through scathing anti-administration propaganda. We're all about the never-satisfied-with-our-government thing.


Something to be aware of when talking about Israel: it's really easy to turn things into "Jews" and "Arabs," but that's not really useful. Yes, there are Jews and Arabs. But more specifically, there are Druze, Bedouin, Haredim, Ashkenazi, Mizrahi, Orthodox Jews, Sunni Muslims, Arab Christians, secular and cultural Jews... There are people who might describe themselves as Palestinian, or Arab, or Arab Israeli, or Israeli Arab, or Israeli, or Arab Christian, or Arab living in Israel, or Palestinian living in Israel. Israel is not homogenous--ethnically, culturally, religiously, or in values.


In any event. I'll ask people I meet what they think about the media, but I can't promise a balanced report since I somewhat doubt that I'll be able to get a perfectly even spread of political opinions from the people I ask. But I'll make an effort!

Price Tag

Today in my Arabic class we were checking fill-in-the-blank exercises, and one of the sentences mentioned tabouli and hummus. This reminded my teacher of something that happened two days ago in Jaffa, specifically this. According to my teacher, the fire was alarmingly close to the gas line, so it's lucky that there wasn't an explosion.


I've eaten at this restaurant. NYU-Tel Aviv takes incoming students there for the meet-the-faculty dinner.


I know when I write, I try to avoid inflammatory words like "terrorist," but it really bothers me that the strongest word the article uses is "vandal." Somehow I don't think that "vandalism" encompasses hate crimes.

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.

The Golan

Hi!


So last Thursday we decided to go hiking on Friday. Doing anything involving public transportation is tricky on Fridays--buses shut down in the afternoon for Shabbat, so you're left with these mini-bus type things called sherutes and taxis as get-home options. We decided that we would do our hike, and then get on the very last bus.


Then, the next morning, we missed out first bus. Oops. Also, not my fault. It was fine though--we waited half an hour for the next bus. People bought pastries, which are sold at almost every kiosk in the Central Bus Station. Fun was had. Anyways. We made it on to the bus, finally, and were off to Tiberius. Tiberius was 2 and a half hours away.


In Tiberius, it turned out that we'd missed the connecting bus we'd been aiming for, and were going to have to wait. (For two hours). The next bus was leaving at 12:05. We considered: we weren't going to get to our hiking destination until 12:25 at the earliest, and the last bus back to Tiberius was at 2:30, and there wasn't another bus until Saturday evening.... Clearly, the only option was camping on the beach!


That decided, we went and bought supplies from a dollar store across the street and from the bus station vendors. I got sunflower seeds and a towel (the hike was supposed to be through creeks and ponds, which made the camping idea even better: one set of clothes? check. getting clothes wet? check. sleeping outside? check and check). Honestly, I was all for the camping idea. Adventures are fun, plus, if it happened to be colder than expected, I thought that I could go do something else. Like sit-ups. One night of very little sleep wouldn't kill me, right? And if it happened to improve my abs, so much the better.


The bus took us and dropped us off next to a fence that ominously declared that we were by an army base where they practiced with live ammunition and getting shot could totally happen. Across the street: our destination!  Yehudiya!



View Hiking Trip in a larger map


[Hopefully the map shows up properly. It's supposed to mark Tel Aviv, Tiberias, and Yehudiya, so possibly zoom out if it doesn't. Technically incompetent? Me?]


Anyways, once there we discovered that they would not let us sleep there without tents, which is probably wise of them. So back up plan: sleep on the beach or find a hostel.


Finally, the hike! Which was sort of a failure as a hike. You know how there are always springs or waterfalls that you can walk down to at parks? And it is a pretty steep walk, but it only takes like 10, 15 minutes? That's mostly what this was. On the positive side, it was beautiful, and I saw the youngest ruins I've ever seen before.

So there it is. 


The water was beautifully murky, and the waterfall was great. I also saw the biggest crab I've ever seen in nature, and also a lot of fish. Altogether, the pool was a good time. Then it started to sprinkle a little, and the group decided that it was an excellent idea to see if we couldn't make the 2:30 bus after all. Which we did. So that was good.


It was pretty much freezing on the bus back to Tel Aviv, so I was very glad we hadn't spent the night, and I was even more glad that I had ridden my bike to the bus station--none of that taxi nonsense for me. Buses almost invariably make me feel like motorized transportation was the worst idea ever. Bikes are brilliant. Also, camels and elephants.


Anyway, it was a fun little misadventure that took us across half the country, and we were still home in time for Shabbat dinner!

Sderot, Part II

The questions:

Nora said...

Is Sderot an old city? Is it interesting (besides the bombs & the concrete)? Does it get hit solely because it's close enough? Is Sderot unusual in being so active on the p.r. front (glancing at Wikipedia, I gather a Sderot-ite wrote it)? How was the pastry?

September 23, 2011 2:19 AM 

I don't know much of anything at all about the history of Sderot. The focus of the tour was mainly to convince us of the severity of the psychological damage of feeling perpetually at war. In terms of demographics, Sderot is very homogenous compared to Tel Aviv or to Ramla, which makes me think that it is probably a relatively new city, but I am feeling like not googling it. 

Is it interesting? Well, I wouldn't call it a destination city. It's a poor place. I think that there's some manufacturing, although I couldn't tell you of what. It is interesting if you are interested in people--like any inhabited place is interesting if you are interested in people. If you like blocky architecture, this is your place. If you are really into adrenaline surges, you could do pretty well here. If you like parties, or clubs, or nice bars, or shopping at high-end stores, this probably isn't your place. The view of Gaza from a hill on the edge of the city is gorgeous, but I can also see how the aesthetics of the place where the rockets originate might interest city inhabitants a little less than they interest me.

On media and such things: according to the quite obviously biased media center people, Sderot is not very publicized at all. I don't really know what to tell you on this one--I was aware that something happened sometimes down south before I got to Israel, but my personal ignorance or knowledge doesn't really speak that much to the overall efforts of p.r. people...

The pastry: pretty solid, although I desperately wish that it had been a huge amount of green chile or salsa instead. :)

Other Sderot things:

First up, Qassam rockets.

Often, materials used in the construction of the rockets include lamp poles and fertilizer 

Apparently, groups paint the rockets different colors to make it clear who was responsible for each one.

This rocket is from Al Qaeda.

I was surprised by the difference it made to me personally to know the origins of each rocket. Our guide explained that green meant Hamas, red meant Islamic Jihad, yellow meant Fatah, and black meant Al Qaeda. I am generally able to look at the leftovers of violence somewhat dispassionately--a shell is not a person crying, it is a reminder of the lengths people will go to when they want to destroy each other. But knowing what the black on that rocket made me much more emotional than the green, or the red. Those colors were interesting; all they signified was pride in causing suffering. The black... I have never been able to touch something created by Al Qaeda before, but their existence has been a huge part of the American mentality throughout most of my life. I'm not explaining this very well. It's just very very strange to be confronted with a local reality that includes the evil of my childhood years.

On to something else.

No architectural awards here. Concrete safehouse? Check.

Bus Stop Shelter outside a school.

This is one half of a shelter. It's there for kids getting off the bus on their way to school. There is not enough room for more than about 10 adults standing more or less on top of each other. Pee covers the floor--apparently from people loosing control of their bladders out of terror, as well as from people using the shelter as a public restroom. Once the alarm sounds, everyone has at least 15 seconds to get in to a shelter.

Shelter at a playground.

This is one of 3 really big shelters at a public playground. To be honest, the face on this giant worm creatures is liable to haunt my nightmares. Look at those huge, vacant human eyes on this chimeric, horned worm. shudder. It's no wonder no one was at the park when we visited (from about 3-4 in the afternoon). Also, there's this:

I almost wonder why they bothered making the park "safe" from rockets when the play structure was apparently being routinely lit on fire and never repaired. That blue melted plastic? That's from the bottom of a tube suspended around 15 feet above the ground. Are my imaginary children playing on that? Possibly. If I'm sure they're big enough that they aren't going to fall through the hole in the play structure, and also if I'm in a good mood and they've been well behaved recently. Park trips are a privilege.

Gaza

Trash

I spent all of 3-ish hours in Sderot, but my main impression was not that it was a city besieged by rockets so much as that it was a city besieged by the poverty caused by them. The people behind the rockets might hope that the constant terror will drive Sderot inhabitants away, but it seems more likely that the barrage will only make it more unattainably expensive for people to leave.

Next up (probably--unless I decide to talk about lightbulbs and energy conservation, which is totally on the list of things I intend to talk about) adventure to the Golan!