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.

Jordan

Hi!


So I got my camera back! Yay! Thank you, lovely people in Jordan, for returning it.


Day 1: I took a bus from Tel Aviv to Eilat, and then a taxi to the border. The border was alarmingly empty. There was practically no one there apart from the skeleton staff. I knew that it was a fairly quiet border, but I was very surprised at how alone I was there, on both sides of the border. I actually went the wrong way a bit as I walked across, because there was absolutely no one to follow.


It surprised me how different it felt to be on one side rather than the other, when it was a physical difference of maybe 100 yards. The female Israeli border person gave me a piece of Bazooka bubblegum (the comic was in Hebrew! I have no idea what it said, but I'm sure it was hilarious) and the male Jordanian border person asked for my email address and phone number. Being the ingenue that I am, I thought that he wanted them for something security related--after biometrics, email addresses seem so impersonal somehow. When I saw that he was writing it down on a scrap of paper, I realized my mistake. Fortunately, gmail seems to be fairly unpopular in Jordan, and no one has ever successfully called my phone from outside of Israel. Absurdly confusing area codes and country calling codes for the win!


On the other side, I was bundled into a cab, and taken to my hotel. It was fairly alarmingly budget, but it had a gorgeous view. Specifically, this one:

I walked around Aqaba a bit. Went back to my hotel and put on more clothes. Then walked around some more. I made friends with a man selling what I strongly suspect were bootleg DVDs, and I failed to speak Arabic well. Altogether, I had a nice evening, but I felt like half of what I said to anyone and everyone I met was that I did not, in fact, want to go on a private evening trip to South Beach, no matter how beautiful, free, or otherwise nice it might be. And actually, South Beach is supposed to be great, but now I'm afraid my brain has associated it with the-place-men-take-foreign-girls-whom-they-think-will-be-easy-to-take-advantage-of, or something like that. Anyways, I did not go to South Beach.


Next day was Wadi Rum. I had no trouble getting there--I split a cab with two European tourists I met at the Aqaba bus station. Wadi Rum... such a weird experience. It was gorgeous, but... Hmm. The taxi dropped us off at the Visitor's Centre. My arrangements were to spend the night at a tourist-y camp out in the actual basin, and I was told to call when I arrived, which I did, but when no one picked up, I decided that I had all day to figure out how to get to camp, and in the meantime, I wanted to ride a camel, because I was a tourist and that's just what tourists do. I certainly wasn't about to go sit in a 4X4, at any rate.


One of the men hanging around and being a semi-official guide mentioned camels in his spiel, so after making absolutely positively sure that we could end the camel tour at the camp that I had booked an paid for in advance, I agreed to go with him. He was very nice, and after giving me tea and breakfast (yum) and a camel and a kid to lead the camel, sent me on my way.

It was all very nice. Me, on a camel, traversing a rather trammeled tourist attraction. It was very beautiful, of course, and I enjoyed waving at the occasional 4X4 of jostled tourists. Clearly I had made the right choice.


Unexpectedly, a jeep pulled up on one side, and the person in it revealed himself to be the owner of the camp where I was going to stay that night. He made it clear that there was a problem with my going with another guide, although I was not exactly sure why. The kid leading my camel called the person I had hired as my guide earlier in the day. About half a second later, I found myself sitting on a camel with a jeep keeping pace on either side. It was a fantastically awkward moment, and I had no idea what to do. Everything worked out more or less all right, but I wound up hanging around in the town for a couple of hours, which was supremely boring.


But after that: camel, take two!

(I have a small bag around my front, which is why I look a little odd. My water was being annoyingly sloshy when I left it in back. Also, camels walk really really quietly.)


I had an overwhelmingly nice evening, although once again, there was far too much of the harassment occurring. It was nice to see the stars, and dinner was delicious. I wish I had taken a picture of how it was prepared, but think slow cooked under the sand with fire. Mental image? Maybe? Maybe not? Anyways.


Next day, Petra! The other tourists and I returned to the village in a 4X4 (ha! I knew I didn't want to pay for a 4X4 tour) and then I hopped on the minibus to Petra.


A note about public transportation in Jordan: there is none. Well, okay, exaggeration, but barely. I spent an absurd amount of money on taxis and private cars because the minibus system is very casual and it's hard to get information on them pinned down. People hitchhike, but that didn't sound like the best idea ever for me personally. Safety first!


Petra! The minibus dropped us off, and there happened to be a shuttle to the hotel I had reservations for waiting for one of the other passengers, so I hopped on. Lucky break for me! I quite liked the place, and it is the only place where I stayed that I fully recommend, so here goes: Valentine Inn, stay there.


A woman was working behind the counter, and I was surprised by how glad I was. Yay! All you want from me is my money! Such a relief. I found it almost hard to address the man who was also working there just because he was a man. Plus, she was practically the first non-foreign woman I had seen in days.


That afternoon, I walked to Petra. After bravely paying the exorbitant admission fee (77 USD) I went in. On a horse because some guy wouldn't let me alone until I rode his horse, and also because I like horses.  I walked through the Siq:

And around other areas too. I made friends with a very nice guy with a donkey. Can I just say that it is impossible to look cool while on a donkey? I did my best. If you want to see the awesomeness that is a donkey, email me, and I'll send you a picture. I don't really want to put pictures with my face in them up. Needlessly paranoid? Yup.


Anyways. We wound up with the following view, which is fairly iconic, but I never would have found my way up here by myself.

Soon after this, we went and had "Bedouin whiskey" (delicious tea with enough sugar in it to rot the teeth of a dental hygienist in two swallows) in a cave. In a cave. So cool.


That evening, I went to my new friend's family home for dinner, which was very good. It was chicken and rice and vegetables, all served on a big round platter. We ate sitting on the floor with our fingers. (I am still vegetarian, but I hate to be rude. My stomach was not pleased with me.)


I met some more people and then rode on another horse before being driven back to Wadi Musa (the tourist town adjacent to Petra. It's where my hotel was).


Then back again to Petra the next morning!


In the afternoon, I went on to Amman, where I spent an uneventful night, and then the next day I crossed the border back to Israel. That part of the trip was fun, too, but I can't say that I have any particularly fantastic stories from it. Mostly just good memories.


I keep remembering things to say, but I suppose I should save something for over Christmas, right?


All in all, it was one of the best trips I've ever been on, and an excellent first foray into a foreign country alone. But I don't think that I'll be going back there while Israel is my home for two reasons: one, travel is expensive and I'm fantastically good at getting ripped off, and two, because I hate being addressed as foreign female before being addressed as a person.

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.

Jordan Observations and Things

So, I am going to go back and finish talking about the Negev and Jerusalem, but for now I feel like jumping forward to Jordan before I forget everything.


First of all, it is exceptionally confusing to be addressed as "she." It took me a while to figure out that the man at the first budget hotel I was staying at was actually trying to ask me questions about myself.


Him: "She is from America?"
Me: "Is she? ... Oh! Yes! Yes, she---I mean, I am from America."


I encountered other variations on this. People talking about me to other people used masculine pronouns occasionally. People told me that they learned their English from talking to tourists, and it was interesting to hear the mistakes people make when they have never sat down and been taught.


Everyone I spoke to knew English, but since I stuck mainly to the tourist-y areas... I had no trouble getting around with English, anyway. Although I did try to use Arabic a little. This is how those conversations went:


Me: *laborious, slow sounds resembling words in an order resembling a sentence*
Them: "Very nice, very nice!" *Proceed to speak in English*


It was helpful hearing Arabic though--and I heard a lot of it. Jordanian Arabic is much much much closer to the Arabic that I study than Egyptian Arabic (which is relevant because Disney movies are dubbed into Egyptian Arabic, which may not seem relevant, but it totally is. I think.).


Anyways, I'm going to do many more posts on Jordan, so if there are any questions, feel free to leave a comment.

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!

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!

Sderot

Today my journalism class went on a field trip to Sderot. It takes a little over an hour with light traffic to get there from Tel Aviv, but it feels much further away. For one thing, Sderot is much cheaper--we bought pastries for well under a US dollar. For another, Sderot has rockets falling on it.

We were taken on a mini-tour of the city by a person from the Sderot Media Center, a center that describes itself as devoted to balancing out what it sees as an unfairly pro-Palestinian media attitude. I do not think it is possible for anyone to have an unbiased opinion on anything, so I appreciate it when people are up front about their perspectives.

Anyway. Sderot is a strange place. Bomb shelters are everywhere. The schools are domed by huge concrete arches. According to our guide, it's better not to wear a seatbelt in the car so you can get out faster if the siren goes off.

I'm supposed to write a short feature type thing on Sderot, so once I do that I'll probably through it up here. Let me know if there's anything specific you're curious about.

Leaving Tomorrow

Hey, happy day! I didn't end up with 3 suitcases and 2 carry-ons after all (although I suppose there's still a chance that my bag won't pass weight/length/width requirements. I should really go check on that.)

So: carry-on and luggage. Also, my water bottle. Because it is awesome. 

Also, Donut, just because he is cute.

Flight tomorrow: ABQ to Denver to Toronto to Tel Aviv. Should be good! People from NYU Tel Aviv will meet us at the airport, and then pack us away to Bnei Dan. (Point of clarification: all of the students made their own travel arrangements, but we're all expected to arrive on the 1st, and we've forwarded our arrival info).

Then a week of orientation followed by school. Woo learning!! Maybe the sentence fragments will stop once I'm back at the whole school thing. Hmmm. Anyway, I'm excited. I am hoping for compelling teachers, hard classes, the whole bit. Toooo nerdy.

Packing/Not Really at All

Hello, Internets!! How exciting: I'm finally a contributor to the internet community, instead of just a digital lurker (but in a non-creepy way).

I’m leaving for Tel Aviv on the 31st. Very exciting, altogether, although the whole packing thing is daunting. To ethernet cord, or not to ethernet cord. The backpacking-style backpack, or the wheeled duffel. What to bring, what to bring... Trials and tribulations, altogether. I am sure you all feel much pity (poor girl, having to make decisions about what will be sitting next to her on the beach...). Oh, woe.

But back to the packing. United is bratty about baggage, and I am seriously cheap, so the plan is 1 piece of checked luggage, 1 carry-on, and 1 personal item. I’m actually looking forward to having very little in the way of material things to look after. I tend to be a collector of things (read: junk), and you may not be aware of this, but things can become heavy. Although carrying heavy things does make you stronger...and stronger is good. Always a bright side!

Not much else to say. Once I have a better idea of the stuff that will be accompanying me, I’ll take a picture. Hopefully 1 bag won’t have turned into 3, as they (bags) are wont to do.