I realize it's been a long time since my last post - and as one friend said, "I feel like the window into your world is closing". Tad melodramatic, but I get the point.
So what have I been up to? Weeeell... I'll tell you: going to the beach in Tel Aviv. About a month ago, right around Purim, the weather took a suddenly springtime-y turn, and while it was lovely in Jerusalem, the promise of sun and sand that lay only 45 minutes down the hill won out. Purim weekend, ages ago now, I know, afforded me my first 2008 opportunity to hang out on the beach in Tel Aviv. I hadn't really been there since August, and to be quite frank, Tel Aviv in August was too much heat and humidity for this pale-faced girl from the Pacific Northwest. But Tel Aviv in March... ah... that's something different!
A few friends and I decided to spend a part of the looooong Purim weekend (Purim fell over Shabbat, so it was super long... Purim Meshulash)
The beaches were absolutely packed, and many people were dressed in costume. Although beach attire in Tel Aviv is suspect on a regular day - so we played a fun game: Costume or No? At any rate, that weekend was the start of my love of lying on the beach and doing nothing. Growing up in Portland, and spending beach time at Cannon Beach, Gearhart, and Seaside, didn't really afford me any love of loafing in the sun. While mom was turning Nubian in the Cannon Beach sand dunes, I was usually complaining and wanting to play in the ocean. I was always a water-baby and hated sunbathing. Probably because I would always get burnt (thanks to the dad-genes winning out over the darker and more melatonin-filled mom-genes). But ah... the joys of SPF 15!
Anyway, I sort of regret not having spent more time in Tel Aviv this year - I mean, it's a REAL city. The paragon of Israeli-ness. Jerusalem often feels like a village - I see the same people everywhere, I go to the same restaurants and cafes, and tend to just take advantage of the fact that I live here and am here during the week. Fridays have turned into my Tel Aviv days. In fact, if there's a week where I cannot get to TA, I'm usually not particularly happy about it (read: I am like a petulant 5 year old who isn't getting what she wants). So I look at it this way: I know the Jerusalem that I know and love, I've formed a bond with the city - we have an understanding of sorts... and now I'm starting an additional relationship. It's not that I'm cheating on Jerusalem, I'm just broadening my appreciation of Israel... and the beach.
That being said, when we do go to Tel Aviv for the day, we tend to hit the same spots: the Mexican restaurant (YES! Mexican food!!!! Well, as close to the real thing as one is going to get in Israel - it's owned by two sisters from Pasadena), Rehov Sheinkin (a shop and cafe lined street near the heart of town), Nachalat Binyamin (the artist's market that sets up shop every Tuesday and Friday), and Frischman beach. As beach culture is foreign to me, my funny bone is completely struck by the regulars who appear every week at this particular beach. There's the "old Artik (Ice cream) guy", the "young and cute Artik guy", the "massage guy" (yes there are roaming masseurs on this beach - kinda gross, but also kinda hilarious), the "Elvis guy" who roams around with his guitar on his back and crazy Elvis hair and sideburns who will serenade you - probably for a fee... I don't know, we've never availed ourselves of his services. There's "creepy curly haired guy" - unfortunately we've had the pleasure of his conversation... once. And the list goes on... and while it is funny, it's also sort of comforting.
We get to the beach, usually after lunch, find ourselves some loungers (and an umbrella for me, for as while SPF 15 certainly does help - this Souther-girl still needs her shade), and sleep, read, do homework - so as not to feel so guilty about being in Tel Aviv - and enjoy the sunny side of Israel.
So, in brief, that's what I've been up to: studying in Jerusalem during the week, and then getting to Tel Aviv as soon as possible (i.e. when I am willing to get out of bed) on Friday morning.
Tonight starts the holiday of Pesach (Passover). I've got some ruminations on that one up my sleeve, so stay tuned.
Hag Sameach (Happy Holiday) and Much love from the Holy Land.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Sad Night in Jerusalem
Earlier tonight there was what is being classified as a terrorist attack on an Orthodox Yeshiva in Jerusalem. As Jerusalem is a small city, I can't say that the shooting was nowhere near my place, but it was far enough away for me to not feel immediately threatened.
Just before I received the email from a classmate alerting us to the situation, I had heard a slew of sirens outside. I just assumed that Condie was leaving the King David (she's here, presumably for a round of "talks") and didn't give the disturbance outside a second though. After reading the article about the shooting and the response it garnered from nearly 50 ambulances in the area, I understand that the noise outside my window was no mere motorcade.
Reading the front page of the online version of Haaretz Magazine, a left-leaning Israeli Newspaper, and one of my favorite sources of news in Israel, proves to be a particularly saddening exercise this evening.
"Eight killed in terrorist attack at J'lem Yeshiva,"
"Officials: Terrorist was East Jerusalem Resident."
"Abbas slams Jerusalem attack; Israel: Peace talks will go on."
"J'lem yeshiva student: I shot the terrorist twice in the head."
And the list goes on...
... I can't help but be reminded of last summers' Jewish Federation shooting in Seattle, WA. And let's be honest, the two events are far from unrelated. To refresh your memory, in short, last summer a Muslim man forced his way into the Jewish Federation building in downtown Seattle, said something along the lines of "I'm a Muslim man and I'm mad at Israel" and then opened fire, injuring 3 (I think) and killing one. The difference, you might say, is that incident was in Seattle far from the boiling cauldron that is Israel.
I've spent the past 9 months assuring friends, family, and those secret anti-Israel (and I'll say it, anti-semites) among the former, that Israel is a safe place. It's not the war-torn area that you might see on CNN - in fact, turn off your TV. Turn it off right now. The international news media is working backwards in their reporting of the situation in this part of the world: they have their conclusion, now they are just setting the stage to prove it. But I digress... I've spent the last 9 months, perhaps the last two years, educating and reassuring people about the general safety of Jerusalem. "Most of the trouble is down South," I said two years ago during the disengagement. "Most of the trouble is up North, now" I said last summer during the Lebanon war. And once again this year "Most of the trouble is down South - Jerusalem is fine. Jerusalem is safe." Well, as one of my friends' status reads on her internet instant messenger "safe is a relative term." A lesson we, sitting high up in Jerusalem, learned first hand - again - this evening.
I'm not quite sure what message I'm trying to convey here, dear reader, other than the deep sadness that I feel tonight. I love this country. I particularly love this city. This maddening city of extremes. Being a woman studying to be a Rabbi in this city can be a very alienating and polarizing experience. I would be lying if I said that my attitude towards the Orthodox and Haredi communities here has been made softer in my time here. In fact, I'd say the exact opposite has ocurred. I've come to feel that the things that divide us as Jews are greater than the things that unite us. I was happy in that prejudice - or at least comfortable in it. Then, someone went ahead and attacked these people - my people - in my city - in my country - in my home. Whether or not the victims of this attack choose to include me as a member of Am Yisrael - I choose to understand that an attack against them is, in essence, an attack against all of us.
Since the shooting, I've been listening to Israeli Army radio station, Galgalatz. Galgalatz usually has an eclectic mix of music - but this evening I experienced what I'd only read about: the sadness of a country broadcast over the radio. Mixed in with a number of sad and mournful Israeli melodies, was Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" (a bit much, in my opinion), and just now, Dylan singing "Blowin' in the Wind." This is not a country full of war-mongers, or even hate-mongers. This is a country made of two peoples who want to live. People who are tired of seeing their children die. What I find interesting is that, for the past year or more, the communities surrounding the Gaza Strip, particularly the town of Sderot, have been dealing with attacks from kassamim, and have been living in constant fear, but that's Sderot. Or Ashkelon. Or any-far-from-here place. Jerusalem though... Jerusalem where buses and cafes were being blown up every-other-day during the early years of this decade. A terrorist attack in Jerusalem just brings up too many memories. Too many losses. I'm not saying that 8 deaths in Jerusalem are more worrisome or saddening than 30 in Sderot, or in Gaza for that matter. I am saying that the quiet we've enjoyed here for the past 9 months has been broken - and Jerusalem, this holy city, has once again become a target - and this, more than most anything else that has happened since I've been here, makes me lose a little bit of hope for this region and its pursuit of peace. Most of all - it just makes me sad.
Below is a Prayer for the Peace of Israel, that has been running through my head the past few hours. Thank you for listening to my rant. Be angry. Be sad. Be upset. Just don't be indifferent, and don't be fooled by the international news media: the situation here is far from black and white.
אבינו שבשמים צור ישראל וגואלו. ברך את מדינת ישראל ראשית צמיחת גאלתנו...
"Our Divine Guardian, Rock and Redeemer of Israel, bless the State of Israel, beginning of the flowering of our redemption. Shield it beneath the wings of Your steadfast love and spread over it the shelter of Your peace. May a spark of Your spirit inspire the actions of its President, Prime Minister, officials, judges and advisors. Enable them to understand the rightness of Your judgements. Strengthen the hands of those who build and protect Your Holy Land. Plant within us love, friendship and mutual acceptaince; uproot hatred, hostility and jealousy from among us.
Be near to all the people of Israel throughout the lands in which we dwell. Unite our hearts to love and revere Your name. Shine forth in your glorious majesty over all inhabitants of Your world and speedily fulfill the vision of Your prophet: "Nation will not lift up sword against nation, nor will they learn war anymore."
Just before I received the email from a classmate alerting us to the situation, I had heard a slew of sirens outside. I just assumed that Condie was leaving the King David (she's here, presumably for a round of "talks") and didn't give the disturbance outside a second though. After reading the article about the shooting and the response it garnered from nearly 50 ambulances in the area, I understand that the noise outside my window was no mere motorcade.
Reading the front page of the online version of Haaretz Magazine, a left-leaning Israeli Newspaper, and one of my favorite sources of news in Israel, proves to be a particularly saddening exercise this evening.
"Eight killed in terrorist attack at J'lem Yeshiva,"
"Officials: Terrorist was East Jerusalem Resident."
"Abbas slams Jerusalem attack; Israel: Peace talks will go on."
"J'lem yeshiva student: I shot the terrorist twice in the head."
And the list goes on...
... I can't help but be reminded of last summers' Jewish Federation shooting in Seattle, WA. And let's be honest, the two events are far from unrelated. To refresh your memory, in short, last summer a Muslim man forced his way into the Jewish Federation building in downtown Seattle, said something along the lines of "I'm a Muslim man and I'm mad at Israel" and then opened fire, injuring 3 (I think) and killing one. The difference, you might say, is that incident was in Seattle far from the boiling cauldron that is Israel.
I've spent the past 9 months assuring friends, family, and those secret anti-Israel (and I'll say it, anti-semites) among the former, that Israel is a safe place. It's not the war-torn area that you might see on CNN - in fact, turn off your TV. Turn it off right now. The international news media is working backwards in their reporting of the situation in this part of the world: they have their conclusion, now they are just setting the stage to prove it. But I digress... I've spent the last 9 months, perhaps the last two years, educating and reassuring people about the general safety of Jerusalem. "Most of the trouble is down South," I said two years ago during the disengagement. "Most of the trouble is up North, now" I said last summer during the Lebanon war. And once again this year "Most of the trouble is down South - Jerusalem is fine. Jerusalem is safe." Well, as one of my friends' status reads on her internet instant messenger "safe is a relative term." A lesson we, sitting high up in Jerusalem, learned first hand - again - this evening.
I'm not quite sure what message I'm trying to convey here, dear reader, other than the deep sadness that I feel tonight. I love this country. I particularly love this city. This maddening city of extremes. Being a woman studying to be a Rabbi in this city can be a very alienating and polarizing experience. I would be lying if I said that my attitude towards the Orthodox and Haredi communities here has been made softer in my time here. In fact, I'd say the exact opposite has ocurred. I've come to feel that the things that divide us as Jews are greater than the things that unite us. I was happy in that prejudice - or at least comfortable in it. Then, someone went ahead and attacked these people - my people - in my city - in my country - in my home. Whether or not the victims of this attack choose to include me as a member of Am Yisrael - I choose to understand that an attack against them is, in essence, an attack against all of us.
Since the shooting, I've been listening to Israeli Army radio station, Galgalatz. Galgalatz usually has an eclectic mix of music - but this evening I experienced what I'd only read about: the sadness of a country broadcast over the radio. Mixed in with a number of sad and mournful Israeli melodies, was Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" (a bit much, in my opinion), and just now, Dylan singing "Blowin' in the Wind." This is not a country full of war-mongers, or even hate-mongers. This is a country made of two peoples who want to live. People who are tired of seeing their children die. What I find interesting is that, for the past year or more, the communities surrounding the Gaza Strip, particularly the town of Sderot, have been dealing with attacks from kassamim, and have been living in constant fear, but that's Sderot. Or Ashkelon. Or any-far-from-here place. Jerusalem though... Jerusalem where buses and cafes were being blown up every-other-day during the early years of this decade. A terrorist attack in Jerusalem just brings up too many memories. Too many losses. I'm not saying that 8 deaths in Jerusalem are more worrisome or saddening than 30 in Sderot, or in Gaza for that matter. I am saying that the quiet we've enjoyed here for the past 9 months has been broken - and Jerusalem, this holy city, has once again become a target - and this, more than most anything else that has happened since I've been here, makes me lose a little bit of hope for this region and its pursuit of peace. Most of all - it just makes me sad.
Below is a Prayer for the Peace of Israel, that has been running through my head the past few hours. Thank you for listening to my rant. Be angry. Be sad. Be upset. Just don't be indifferent, and don't be fooled by the international news media: the situation here is far from black and white.
אבינו שבשמים צור ישראל וגואלו. ברך את מדינת ישראל ראשית צמיחת גאלתנו...
"Our Divine Guardian, Rock and Redeemer of Israel, bless the State of Israel, beginning of the flowering of our redemption. Shield it beneath the wings of Your steadfast love and spread over it the shelter of Your peace. May a spark of Your spirit inspire the actions of its President, Prime Minister, officials, judges and advisors. Enable them to understand the rightness of Your judgements. Strengthen the hands of those who build and protect Your Holy Land. Plant within us love, friendship and mutual acceptaince; uproot hatred, hostility and jealousy from among us.
Be near to all the people of Israel throughout the lands in which we dwell. Unite our hearts to love and revere Your name. Shine forth in your glorious majesty over all inhabitants of Your world and speedily fulfill the vision of Your prophet: "Nation will not lift up sword against nation, nor will they learn war anymore."
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Wandering the Desert
So, here are some stories to accompany the pictures of last week's HUC trip to the Arava Valley in the Negev Desert. We left bright and early on Wednesday morning and headed, well... south. I can't recall much from the first day, other than the feeling that all we did was stop to use the restroom. This trip was much less history-oriented than the past two HUC trips, and more focused on the geographical wonders of the Negev Desert. In fact, the only time that a faculty member stood in front of us for an explanation was for a few minutes in Sde Boker where Ben Gurion "made the desert bloom".
We spent the afternoon hiking around the machtesh, a very special kind of nature-made crater. The entire area of the Arava Valley was made by the Syrian-African rift. As such, there are all sorts of crazy natural phenomena that occur there. Wow... I learned something! We had two amazing educators, our "Desert Roses" - both doing their national service, sheirut leumi, an alternative to military service for women of army age. The amount of knowledge these young women had about the desert was incredibly impressive. Also impressive was the lack of whining (overall) that came from our group. I thought it was going to be a four day kvetch-fest, but surprisingly, everyone seemed to really have a good time!
Kibbutz Yahel was our homebase. The first reform kibbutz in the country, Yahel is 30 years old and going strong. What I found so interesting about this kibbutz is the changing demographic. As it is a 30 year old kibbutz, most of the children of the members are now starting to have children of their own (and not that many seem to be doing so on the kibbutz itself). The kibbutz is dealing with this challenge in, what I thought to be, an interesting way - by opening up the community to non-members (most of whom are not Reform Jews). The kibbutz does still have a strong agricultural drive, but, like most kibbutzim today, many members work outside of the community in non-agricultural enterprises. Yahel's main produce are dates, pomelos, watermelon, scallions (??) and milk. Other than that, the kibbutz itself is beautiful. It felt like a mixture of camp and... for some reason... the Oregon Coast. :-)
The second day of the trip was the hard-core hiking day. There were three hiking options, I opted for the "medium-difficulty". We had a small group - which was nice, especially considering the amount of down-hill climb we had. A larger group just would have made me nervous. Our educator was great at knowing when to stop, give us breaks, and do a little bit of desert education. The first 30 minutes of the hike were uphill, and I mean straight up. For those of you who have seen the second Lord of the Rings: you know those "stairs" that Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up? Yeah.... it felt like that. Only shorter. Once that was over, however, the rest of the hike was downhill into a dried out riverbed, or wadi. My favorite moment of the hike, and trust me - there were many favorites, was when we were climbing down a dried out waterfall. The waterfall led into a canyon. The scene itself was beautiful, and when Ronni, our guide, pointed to the waterfall and said "that's what we're climbing down. It's perfectly safe, just watch your step." (I think she also said "Don't worry, no one has died doing this" to which the guard responded "yet" funny Israelis...) So, we were climbing down this dried out waterfall (see pictures) into a canyon. I was pretty well freaked out, but on auto-pilot, as there was no other way down. Deeply concentrating on my next step, I was towards the back of the group, still, freaking out, when suddenly one of my classmates belted out in his baritone voice, "Deeeey-Oh. Dee-eh-eh-oh. Daylight come and me won go hoooooooome." Best moment of the trip. Laughing, we all managed to make it down the waterfall and into the wadi for our walk out through the Red Canyon.
Now... here's my one gripe about the trip. After a full day of hiking, in the sun (the weather was amazing, by the way) where did HUC take us? Back to Kibbutz Yahel for a nice shower and a comfortable bed to sleep in? Nope. They took us to a "Bedouin Tent" I say that in "" because it wasn't run by Bedouins - it was just for the experience. Boy was it some experience. I wasn't so into it. I was sore, tired, and granted - they had showers - but they weren't quite what I wanted after a long day of hiking. Now, I'm usually a heavy sleeper, but I couldn't get to sleep in this tent. Picture it: One big tent, pitch black, with 50-some-odd HUC students, their significant others, and faculty, sleeping on the floor. It felt like a NFTY shul-in ... in the desert. One amazing thing about the location of this tent is that it was so far from civilization that there was hardly any ambient light blocking the stars. I haven't seen stars like that since camp. It looked like a planetarium and was amazing. But I digress. Anyhow... I woke up after a fitful night of sleep in a fake Bedouin tent smelling like real goat... riddle me that.
After the tent, we spent the morning at Kibbutz Lotan. The second Reform Kibbutz in Israel, just outside of Eilat. The kibbutz is doing some amazing things in the area of ecology and green-building. We spent the morning touring their eco-areas, and we got our hands dirty making mud bricks. I forget how much I enjoy playing in the mud until I'm actually in it. The thing is, I like getting dirty and being "at one" with nature... but then I really like a nice hot shower and a warm fluffy towel - and bed. :-) Like my friend Adam (the farm-boy) said, "I like playing in the mud, but at home we have a separate mud-room, we don't track it around with us all day".
After Lotan we headed down to Eilat for some snorkeling. Now, I'm not going to lie, dear reader. I did not snorkel. No, about 6 of us defected to another Bedouin Tent - this one across the street from the beach where our classmates were frolicking underwater - which had, according to our friend Hannah, really amazing pita. There were 6 of us, all women, all decked in our hiking/beach wear. We were the only people in the tent, and, of course, the owner sat down to schmooze with us. The best part of the entire interaction was when Yussef, our host, told my friend Aimee that he would give her father 400 camels for her. He proceeded to tell us that we were all "good" but Aimee was "the best" that she had a big heart - he could tell. He wrote Aimee a note wishing her much success. While it was sweet in the end, there were some moments where we weren't sure how appropriate the conversation, or the interaction itself, was. Ah, random moments in bedouin tents. I also saw a man riding one camel, and leading another, while wearing an Oklahoma sweatshirt. Confusing? Yes. Amazing? Yes indeed!
We made our way back to Kibbutz Yahel for a restful Shabbat. For some reason, the patio outside our room, and the hammock outside our room ("our hammock"... Aimee and I got very protective over the hammock that was clearly on our "property"), turned into one of the party spots. I recall a lot of singing... and wine drinking... and game playing. All in all... a lovely erev shabbat. The next day we woke up somewhat early again for a shabbat "hike" and pray. Not my bag. But then I got a nice shabbat nap - and felt much better. We should have just spent Saturday night on the kibbutz, but instead we loaded into the buses around 6:30 and made it home to Jerusalem by 10:30. Crazy bus driver - but his haste was appreciated once I was in my own bed by 11.
So... that's the exciting trip to the Negev!
We spent the afternoon hiking around the machtesh, a very special kind of nature-made crater. The entire area of the Arava Valley was made by the Syrian-African rift. As such, there are all sorts of crazy natural phenomena that occur there. Wow... I learned something! We had two amazing educators, our "Desert Roses" - both doing their national service, sheirut leumi, an alternative to military service for women of army age. The amount of knowledge these young women had about the desert was incredibly impressive. Also impressive was the lack of whining (overall) that came from our group. I thought it was going to be a four day kvetch-fest, but surprisingly, everyone seemed to really have a good time!
Kibbutz Yahel was our homebase. The first reform kibbutz in the country, Yahel is 30 years old and going strong. What I found so interesting about this kibbutz is the changing demographic. As it is a 30 year old kibbutz, most of the children of the members are now starting to have children of their own (and not that many seem to be doing so on the kibbutz itself). The kibbutz is dealing with this challenge in, what I thought to be, an interesting way - by opening up the community to non-members (most of whom are not Reform Jews). The kibbutz does still have a strong agricultural drive, but, like most kibbutzim today, many members work outside of the community in non-agricultural enterprises. Yahel's main produce are dates, pomelos, watermelon, scallions (??) and milk. Other than that, the kibbutz itself is beautiful. It felt like a mixture of camp and... for some reason... the Oregon Coast. :-)
The second day of the trip was the hard-core hiking day. There were three hiking options, I opted for the "medium-difficulty". We had a small group - which was nice, especially considering the amount of down-hill climb we had. A larger group just would have made me nervous. Our educator was great at knowing when to stop, give us breaks, and do a little bit of desert education. The first 30 minutes of the hike were uphill, and I mean straight up. For those of you who have seen the second Lord of the Rings: you know those "stairs" that Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up? Yeah.... it felt like that. Only shorter. Once that was over, however, the rest of the hike was downhill into a dried out riverbed, or wadi. My favorite moment of the hike, and trust me - there were many favorites, was when we were climbing down a dried out waterfall. The waterfall led into a canyon. The scene itself was beautiful, and when Ronni, our guide, pointed to the waterfall and said "that's what we're climbing down. It's perfectly safe, just watch your step." (I think she also said "Don't worry, no one has died doing this" to which the guard responded "yet" funny Israelis...) So, we were climbing down this dried out waterfall (see pictures) into a canyon. I was pretty well freaked out, but on auto-pilot, as there was no other way down. Deeply concentrating on my next step, I was towards the back of the group, still, freaking out, when suddenly one of my classmates belted out in his baritone voice, "Deeeey-Oh. Dee-eh-eh-oh. Daylight come and me won go hoooooooome." Best moment of the trip. Laughing, we all managed to make it down the waterfall and into the wadi for our walk out through the Red Canyon.
Now... here's my one gripe about the trip. After a full day of hiking, in the sun (the weather was amazing, by the way) where did HUC take us? Back to Kibbutz Yahel for a nice shower and a comfortable bed to sleep in? Nope. They took us to a "Bedouin Tent" I say that in "" because it wasn't run by Bedouins - it was just for the experience. Boy was it some experience. I wasn't so into it. I was sore, tired, and granted - they had showers - but they weren't quite what I wanted after a long day of hiking. Now, I'm usually a heavy sleeper, but I couldn't get to sleep in this tent. Picture it: One big tent, pitch black, with 50-some-odd HUC students, their significant others, and faculty, sleeping on the floor. It felt like a NFTY shul-in ... in the desert. One amazing thing about the location of this tent is that it was so far from civilization that there was hardly any ambient light blocking the stars. I haven't seen stars like that since camp. It looked like a planetarium and was amazing. But I digress. Anyhow... I woke up after a fitful night of sleep in a fake Bedouin tent smelling like real goat... riddle me that.
After the tent, we spent the morning at Kibbutz Lotan. The second Reform Kibbutz in Israel, just outside of Eilat. The kibbutz is doing some amazing things in the area of ecology and green-building. We spent the morning touring their eco-areas, and we got our hands dirty making mud bricks. I forget how much I enjoy playing in the mud until I'm actually in it. The thing is, I like getting dirty and being "at one" with nature... but then I really like a nice hot shower and a warm fluffy towel - and bed. :-) Like my friend Adam (the farm-boy) said, "I like playing in the mud, but at home we have a separate mud-room, we don't track it around with us all day".
After Lotan we headed down to Eilat for some snorkeling. Now, I'm not going to lie, dear reader. I did not snorkel. No, about 6 of us defected to another Bedouin Tent - this one across the street from the beach where our classmates were frolicking underwater - which had, according to our friend Hannah, really amazing pita. There were 6 of us, all women, all decked in our hiking/beach wear. We were the only people in the tent, and, of course, the owner sat down to schmooze with us. The best part of the entire interaction was when Yussef, our host, told my friend Aimee that he would give her father 400 camels for her. He proceeded to tell us that we were all "good" but Aimee was "the best" that she had a big heart - he could tell. He wrote Aimee a note wishing her much success. While it was sweet in the end, there were some moments where we weren't sure how appropriate the conversation, or the interaction itself, was. Ah, random moments in bedouin tents. I also saw a man riding one camel, and leading another, while wearing an Oklahoma sweatshirt. Confusing? Yes. Amazing? Yes indeed!
We made our way back to Kibbutz Yahel for a restful Shabbat. For some reason, the patio outside our room, and the hammock outside our room ("our hammock"... Aimee and I got very protective over the hammock that was clearly on our "property"), turned into one of the party spots. I recall a lot of singing... and wine drinking... and game playing. All in all... a lovely erev shabbat. The next day we woke up somewhat early again for a shabbat "hike" and pray. Not my bag. But then I got a nice shabbat nap - and felt much better. We should have just spent Saturday night on the kibbutz, but instead we loaded into the buses around 6:30 and made it home to Jerusalem by 10:30. Crazy bus driver - but his haste was appreciated once I was in my own bed by 11.
So... that's the exciting trip to the Negev!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Trip through the Negev
Here are some photos from our recent HUC class trip (tiyul) down south to the Negev and the Arava Valley. Will write some stories later - too tired now. Fun... but tiring!
Me and Aimee at Sde Boker - the home and resting place of David Ben Gurion. I was excited. Day 1.
About to climb up Har Nesher and down into the Red Canyon. Mixed Feelings. Day 2.
Daniel, Me, Hannah, Jen, Rachel and Laura.
That's Har Nesher - Yeup, I climbed that. Naysayers, you may "nay"... but I conquered that rocky terrain.
See?? (That's me, second to last in line... there were others behind the photographer though)
And then we had to climb back down...
And down... This part happened to be a dried-out waterfall. Scary? Yes. Awesome? Yes.
Hiking through the Red Canyon was beautiful and amazing, but this sign really made my day.
And up again - Laura hiking out of the Red Canyon while Aimee and I wait our turn. Like on the Playground. In fact, the Red Canyon is pretty much an Israeli playground.
All showered and tired and happy post-hike at the Bedouin "tent" in Shacharut.
Yaya (our "security guard" and new friend), Aimee, Me, Lyle and Rachel.
Me and Aimee at Sde Boker - the home and resting place of David Ben Gurion. I was excited. Day 1.
About to climb up Har Nesher and down into the Red Canyon. Mixed Feelings. Day 2.Daniel, Me, Hannah, Jen, Rachel and Laura.
That's Har Nesher - Yeup, I climbed that. Naysayers, you may "nay"... but I conquered that rocky terrain.
See?? (That's me, second to last in line... there were others behind the photographer though)
And then we had to climb back down...
And down... This part happened to be a dried-out waterfall. Scary? Yes. Awesome? Yes.
Hiking through the Red Canyon was beautiful and amazing, but this sign really made my day.
And up again - Laura hiking out of the Red Canyon while Aimee and I wait our turn. Like on the Playground. In fact, the Red Canyon is pretty much an Israeli playground.
All showered and tired and happy post-hike at the Bedouin "tent" in Shacharut.Yaya (our "security guard" and new friend), Aimee, Me, Lyle and Rachel.
And that's all for now, folks! Stories to follow soon!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
New Blog Post
Well, two friends have mentioned my blog in the past 24 hours - which I guess is a sign that I need to update it. Sadly, as I think about my life over the past two weeks, there isn't a whole lot of stuff that is blog-appropriate nor worthy, in my mind, of y'alls time. But I suppose I can think of something.
.....
So! The snow storm passed.... only to be replaced by another. Snow! Twice in Jerusalem in one month! What is happening to the world! This snow is a little less pervasive than the last, and as I've worked out my snow protection program, it's a bit easier to deal with. That being said, Jerusalem has treated us to some of it's most beautiful spring-preview weather. The weather between snow storms was the stuff California dreams are made of. Clear, sunny, warm-ish, and spring-inspiring. All those fun springtime feelings popped up for just a minute before being dashed away under a layer of snow, rain, and winds-like-you-wouldn't-believe. Sticking true to my colors, I've been trying to get out and enjoy this city. I got my fall semester grades and was inspired by them to say "ok, I've got the student thing down - now I'm going to get the Israel thing down." How is that going - one might ask. Well, in terms of getting out and meeting Israelis, I think it's going rather well. In terms of getting out of Jerusalem.... eeeeeeeh.... not so good.
I, like many of my classmates, sit on a variety of "committees" - of course, by some cosmic joke, all of my committees require copious amounts of time, effort, and each of them requires planning a Shabbaton. Now, my years of working for Hillel have made me a good event planner in terms of the tachlis, the details, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I enjoy spending my time thusly. Yes... I said "thusly". No no... I'm not griping. Well, yes I am. But I guess this is what you get when you ask me for a blog during a time when there's obviously not much about which to "blog".
In other news: I've been playing my guitar more. It's pretty much been sitting in its case in the living room, gathering dust for the past few months. But a new friend has inspired me to make music again - which, since the weather is so gross and there's not much that I'm willing to schlep out into the rain to do - has been a good use of time. That and studying, of course.
OH! And the most exciting bit of news: my dearest darling friend Casey from Seattle came to Israel on birthright! Which was exciting to me for a variety of reasons, the foremost being: a) I got to see him again, and b) he got a taste of this Israel place. Casey also traveled with a great group of people, so while I got to spend some quality time with my old friend, I also made a few new friends in the process. It's always good to have friends, no?
So there's my update. It's pretty pareve but it's what is going on. When something really and truly exciting happens, I'll let you know. But right now, it's business as usual in the Holy Land.
.....
So! The snow storm passed.... only to be replaced by another. Snow! Twice in Jerusalem in one month! What is happening to the world! This snow is a little less pervasive than the last, and as I've worked out my snow protection program, it's a bit easier to deal with. That being said, Jerusalem has treated us to some of it's most beautiful spring-preview weather. The weather between snow storms was the stuff California dreams are made of. Clear, sunny, warm-ish, and spring-inspiring. All those fun springtime feelings popped up for just a minute before being dashed away under a layer of snow, rain, and winds-like-you-wouldn't-believe. Sticking true to my colors, I've been trying to get out and enjoy this city. I got my fall semester grades and was inspired by them to say "ok, I've got the student thing down - now I'm going to get the Israel thing down." How is that going - one might ask. Well, in terms of getting out and meeting Israelis, I think it's going rather well. In terms of getting out of Jerusalem.... eeeeeeeh.... not so good.
I, like many of my classmates, sit on a variety of "committees" - of course, by some cosmic joke, all of my committees require copious amounts of time, effort, and each of them requires planning a Shabbaton. Now, my years of working for Hillel have made me a good event planner in terms of the tachlis, the details, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I enjoy spending my time thusly. Yes... I said "thusly". No no... I'm not griping. Well, yes I am. But I guess this is what you get when you ask me for a blog during a time when there's obviously not much about which to "blog".
In other news: I've been playing my guitar more. It's pretty much been sitting in its case in the living room, gathering dust for the past few months. But a new friend has inspired me to make music again - which, since the weather is so gross and there's not much that I'm willing to schlep out into the rain to do - has been a good use of time. That and studying, of course.
OH! And the most exciting bit of news: my dearest darling friend Casey from Seattle came to Israel on birthright! Which was exciting to me for a variety of reasons, the foremost being: a) I got to see him again, and b) he got a taste of this Israel place. Casey also traveled with a great group of people, so while I got to spend some quality time with my old friend, I also made a few new friends in the process. It's always good to have friends, no?
So there's my update. It's pretty pareve but it's what is going on. When something really and truly exciting happens, I'll let you know. But right now, it's business as usual in the Holy Land.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Snow: not as fun as it used to be.
It seems as though I'm being stalked by snow.
I was home in Portland for two weeks of winter vacation. No snow. Not one flake. The entire time. Wait... that's a lie. Sorry, I just lied to you, dear reader. I encountered a few flakes in Vancouver, WA on my drive up to Seattle. But these flakes were pretty harmless, and once I made it past Ridgefield, there was nary a flake to be seen. Seattle showed me its' range of weather. In the four days I was there we had rain, cold, and sun... but no snow. Which was fine by me, as I had people to see, places to eat, and jeans to purchase. Snow would have thrown a wrench right in those plans.
Portland weather was fantastic as well. We got a week of beautiful sunshine. Cold clear days. Perfect for running around and seeing family and friends... and of course, shopping with mom. But then, my very last night in Portland, we got snowfall. I didn't even get to enjoy it! My mom came into my room in the morning to wake up and tell me, excitedly, that there was snow on the ground. This is a routine we used to have when I was growing up: we'd hear the evening newscaster say something hokey about the incoming "storm" and all the kids waiting to hear for school closures, I'd go to sleep with high hopes of snow on our already treacherous driveway undoubtedly preventing me from going to school, wake up in the middle of the night, look out my window and see the flakes falling in the light cast by the street lamp on Vista. I would run back into bed and hunker down, knowing that my day would be spent at home. In the morning, mom would come in and excitedly say "there's snow! it's sticking!" The morning would proceed with sleeping in, hot chocolate, and daytime soap operas. How fun, right!?
This past Monday, however, when mom came in with the pup to tell me that there was snow on the ground, my first thought was "aw man..." - as I had a flight out that afternoon. My brother came up the hill in his Suburban beast and took me out to breakfast. By the time we got home, traffic was moving as usual, and the snow was really just a bunch of extra travel stress. Sad.
I landed in Tel Aviv Wednesday afternoon, and could have sworn that I saw tiny snow flakes mixed in with the rain out the airplane window. Snow? In Tel Aviv? No way. But lo and behold, not twelve hours later, Jerusalem is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Which, from the window looks very picturesque and fluffy and snowy and fun. But in reality, is just a bunch of slush waiting to soak you through to the bone. School went ahead today as planned - although, to HUC's credit, they did shorten the day to let us get home. I must say, I never knew that snow could be so wet! We all looked like a bunch of wet dogs when as we trickled into school this morning. Each with his or her own particular brand of grievance and/or snow-protection plan. (My favorite being a classmate-who-shall-remain-nameless putting plastic grocery bags over his shoes. Brilliant, actually). As today was the first day of the new semester, I decided to put my best foot forward and actually dress up. Stupid idea, as I wound up looking like overdressed-wet-dog. From here on out, as long as this gray slush lies between me and the rest of the world, it's longjohns, sweats, and rain pants all the way. Hmph!
This all leads me to my new view on snow. I'm sure you've already come to this conclusion, but I'm just coming to it, so... I'm slow.
Snow is great fun times, unless:
1 - you have to be somewhere, and
2 - you don't have a car... with ice tires.
3 - you don't have any food in the house and both you and your obnoxious kitten are hungry.
Otherwise, I say "hooray for snow!"
However, at the moment, I say "Down with snow!"
I was home in Portland for two weeks of winter vacation. No snow. Not one flake. The entire time. Wait... that's a lie. Sorry, I just lied to you, dear reader. I encountered a few flakes in Vancouver, WA on my drive up to Seattle. But these flakes were pretty harmless, and once I made it past Ridgefield, there was nary a flake to be seen. Seattle showed me its' range of weather. In the four days I was there we had rain, cold, and sun... but no snow. Which was fine by me, as I had people to see, places to eat, and jeans to purchase. Snow would have thrown a wrench right in those plans.
Portland weather was fantastic as well. We got a week of beautiful sunshine. Cold clear days. Perfect for running around and seeing family and friends... and of course, shopping with mom. But then, my very last night in Portland, we got snowfall. I didn't even get to enjoy it! My mom came into my room in the morning to wake up and tell me, excitedly, that there was snow on the ground. This is a routine we used to have when I was growing up: we'd hear the evening newscaster say something hokey about the incoming "storm" and all the kids waiting to hear for school closures, I'd go to sleep with high hopes of snow on our already treacherous driveway undoubtedly preventing me from going to school, wake up in the middle of the night, look out my window and see the flakes falling in the light cast by the street lamp on Vista. I would run back into bed and hunker down, knowing that my day would be spent at home. In the morning, mom would come in and excitedly say "there's snow! it's sticking!" The morning would proceed with sleeping in, hot chocolate, and daytime soap operas. How fun, right!?
This past Monday, however, when mom came in with the pup to tell me that there was snow on the ground, my first thought was "aw man..." - as I had a flight out that afternoon. My brother came up the hill in his Suburban beast and took me out to breakfast. By the time we got home, traffic was moving as usual, and the snow was really just a bunch of extra travel stress. Sad.
I landed in Tel Aviv Wednesday afternoon, and could have sworn that I saw tiny snow flakes mixed in with the rain out the airplane window. Snow? In Tel Aviv? No way. But lo and behold, not twelve hours later, Jerusalem is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Which, from the window looks very picturesque and fluffy and snowy and fun. But in reality, is just a bunch of slush waiting to soak you through to the bone. School went ahead today as planned - although, to HUC's credit, they did shorten the day to let us get home. I must say, I never knew that snow could be so wet! We all looked like a bunch of wet dogs when as we trickled into school this morning. Each with his or her own particular brand of grievance and/or snow-protection plan. (My favorite being a classmate-who-shall-remain-nameless putting plastic grocery bags over his shoes. Brilliant, actually). As today was the first day of the new semester, I decided to put my best foot forward and actually dress up. Stupid idea, as I wound up looking like overdressed-wet-dog. From here on out, as long as this gray slush lies between me and the rest of the world, it's longjohns, sweats, and rain pants all the way. Hmph!
This all leads me to my new view on snow. I'm sure you've already come to this conclusion, but I'm just coming to it, so... I'm slow.
Snow is great fun times, unless:
1 - you have to be somewhere, and
2 - you don't have a car... with ice tires.
3 - you don't have any food in the house and both you and your obnoxious kitten are hungry.
Otherwise, I say "hooray for snow!"
However, at the moment, I say "Down with snow!"
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
George W. Bush (almost) Ruined My Day.... almost
It is such a strange feeling to be done with finals... I mean, it's a great feeling. A little strange b/c I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Also a little strange b/c winter finals being done used to mean going home for Christmas vacation. Now, I am in fact going home, but Christmas, and the Christmas season has long since passed. I will be surprised if they are still serving the "Holiday Season" drinks at Starbucks - surprised, but excited.
ANYWAY, so, George W. Bush is in town, as some of you might know. What you probably don't know, what they don't show on the news, is that Jerusalem feels like it's under marital law. At least my part of Jerusalem does - because I live right between the Prime Minister's house and the King David Hotel, where the Big Man is staying. Not only is he staying at the King David, but members of his entourage numbering in the hundreds, at least! The neighborhood has been gradually shut down the past few days. And, I guess, before I get too far into my rant I should list the two things that I can thank Mr. Bush for: 1) the construction behind my house (lies between my house and the King David Hotel) has been shut down for the duration of the week. This week being finals week. Which means that I've been able to sleep-in in peace. Which leads me to my next "thing to thank Bush for" 2) As school is right next door to the King David, sort of, it is closed today and tomorrow. Which means that our liturgy final today was moved to Yad Ben Tzvi (the first house in which the President of Israel lived, which happens to have a big lecture hall). That's not what I'm thankful for... in fact.. finding that place was an unneccessary added stressor to the morning. No, what I CAN thank the man for, is the fact that tomorrow's Biblical Grammar test was made into a take-home. Which means that I did it last night. Which means that I'm DONE! I'm done with my first semester of Rabbinical school. Which is crazy... But I digress from the Bush-induced crazy.
First of all, as I said, my neighborhood is pretty much entirely shut down. All of the streets and some of the sidewalks are cordoned off. There are police officers and soldiers every 10 feet. No, every 5 feet. My afternoon was ALMOST ruined by the motorcade preparations. I was trying to get to Rechavia to meet with two friends who are also DONE for lunch. Now, this restaurant on Azza St has been talked up to me by numerous people, so I was not ready to settle for anything less. Luckily, the motorcade went by, in all it's glory - with a few mini-buses-to-boot, and then they opened up the intersection to pedestrian traffic.
It's difficult to convey the feeling of Jerusalem without traffic. There's always traffic in Jerusalem. Even on Shabbat. As I was standing huddled in front of the Conservative Yeshiva, with the masses of angry Israelis (and a few annoyed Americans, like myself) waiting to get where we needed to go, I overheard at least three different people say "oy! zeh c'mo Shabbat!" Which I was thinking, but even then, there's more traffic on Keren HaYesod and King George on Shabbat than there was today. A few minutes later when we were finally allowed to walk, the entire intersection just filled up with pedestrians. Now, this intersection is one of the worst in Jerusalem, if not in Israel. It takes a good 15 minutes to cross on foot, as there are about a bajillion different ways that traffic can go. The ENTIRE intersection was people walking wherever they needed to go. In that respect, it was pretty cool. Although I still wound up waiting at that intersection for the motorcade to pass... Anyway, I digress. A few yards up the road, on a smaller more residential street, people were still just walking in the street. I overheard a soldier say "c'mo Yom Kippur" - so true! Yom Kippur is the only other time I've seen the streets this devoid of traffic! Yom Bush and Yom Kippur.
It just feels like such a strange day! The grey clouds overhead don't help the eerie quiet that has fallen over this part of the city. It's also weird that "my" President, is closer and having a greater impact on my daily life here, in Jerusalem, than he ever has been living in the Pacific Northwest. He may have made me late for lunch, but at least I still have my reproductive rights. For now.
And... in other news: I'm done with the semester!!!! And will be home in four days for a visit. I can't wait to be home, and it's nice to feel that I've accomplished something in these past 7ish months, but I'm sad to be leaving Israel. I know I will be back in two weeks - I'm just now worried about how hard it is going to be to leave in the Summer. I will cross that bridge when I get to it... unless Bush is in town. In which case I'll have to go around.
ANYWAY, so, George W. Bush is in town, as some of you might know. What you probably don't know, what they don't show on the news, is that Jerusalem feels like it's under marital law. At least my part of Jerusalem does - because I live right between the Prime Minister's house and the King David Hotel, where the Big Man is staying. Not only is he staying at the King David, but members of his entourage numbering in the hundreds, at least! The neighborhood has been gradually shut down the past few days. And, I guess, before I get too far into my rant I should list the two things that I can thank Mr. Bush for: 1) the construction behind my house (lies between my house and the King David Hotel) has been shut down for the duration of the week. This week being finals week. Which means that I've been able to sleep-in in peace. Which leads me to my next "thing to thank Bush for" 2) As school is right next door to the King David, sort of, it is closed today and tomorrow. Which means that our liturgy final today was moved to Yad Ben Tzvi (the first house in which the President of Israel lived, which happens to have a big lecture hall). That's not what I'm thankful for... in fact.. finding that place was an unneccessary added stressor to the morning. No, what I CAN thank the man for, is the fact that tomorrow's Biblical Grammar test was made into a take-home. Which means that I did it last night. Which means that I'm DONE! I'm done with my first semester of Rabbinical school. Which is crazy... But I digress from the Bush-induced crazy.
First of all, as I said, my neighborhood is pretty much entirely shut down. All of the streets and some of the sidewalks are cordoned off. There are police officers and soldiers every 10 feet. No, every 5 feet. My afternoon was ALMOST ruined by the motorcade preparations. I was trying to get to Rechavia to meet with two friends who are also DONE for lunch. Now, this restaurant on Azza St has been talked up to me by numerous people, so I was not ready to settle for anything less. Luckily, the motorcade went by, in all it's glory - with a few mini-buses-to-boot, and then they opened up the intersection to pedestrian traffic.
It's difficult to convey the feeling of Jerusalem without traffic. There's always traffic in Jerusalem. Even on Shabbat. As I was standing huddled in front of the Conservative Yeshiva, with the masses of angry Israelis (and a few annoyed Americans, like myself) waiting to get where we needed to go, I overheard at least three different people say "oy! zeh c'mo Shabbat!" Which I was thinking, but even then, there's more traffic on Keren HaYesod and King George on Shabbat than there was today. A few minutes later when we were finally allowed to walk, the entire intersection just filled up with pedestrians. Now, this intersection is one of the worst in Jerusalem, if not in Israel. It takes a good 15 minutes to cross on foot, as there are about a bajillion different ways that traffic can go. The ENTIRE intersection was people walking wherever they needed to go. In that respect, it was pretty cool. Although I still wound up waiting at that intersection for the motorcade to pass... Anyway, I digress. A few yards up the road, on a smaller more residential street, people were still just walking in the street. I overheard a soldier say "c'mo Yom Kippur" - so true! Yom Kippur is the only other time I've seen the streets this devoid of traffic! Yom Bush and Yom Kippur.
It just feels like such a strange day! The grey clouds overhead don't help the eerie quiet that has fallen over this part of the city. It's also weird that "my" President, is closer and having a greater impact on my daily life here, in Jerusalem, than he ever has been living in the Pacific Northwest. He may have made me late for lunch, but at least I still have my reproductive rights. For now.
And... in other news: I'm done with the semester!!!! And will be home in four days for a visit. I can't wait to be home, and it's nice to feel that I've accomplished something in these past 7ish months, but I'm sad to be leaving Israel. I know I will be back in two weeks - I'm just now worried about how hard it is going to be to leave in the Summer. I will cross that bridge when I get to it... unless Bush is in town. In which case I'll have to go around.
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