We had to braid it first...
And then we get to start cutting...
The last braid is gone!!!
And the rest is going...
Demi and Natalie should watch out!
Hmm...should I be next?
- M
Thursday, October 30, 2008
OMG!!!
Sarit shaved her head! Well, Volk, Matan, and I cut and shaved her head. Not just for the fun of it, she is donating it to an organization equivalent to Locks of Love here in Israel. But she didn't just cut it off, she actually shaved it!! And we documented it all. For your viewing pleasure...
We had to braid it first...
And then we get to start cutting...
The last braid is gone!!!
And the rest is going...
Demi and Natalie should watch out!
Hmm...should I be next?
- M
We had to braid it first...
And then we get to start cutting...
The last braid is gone!!!
And the rest is going...
Demi and Natalie should watch out!
Hmm...should I be next?
- M
Saturday, October 25, 2008
When It Rains, It Pours
Well, I wouldn't say it poured here, but it did rain last night! As much as I love the desert, I do find it difficult to live without the rain. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, it is a part of me. I was even thinking of going up north some weekend when it is supposed to rain there, just to feel the cold, wet drops on my face. Luckily, I didn't have to go so far. Unfortunately, I did not get to enjoy it very much as we seemed to bring some sort of stomach bug home from the Rainbow. Yesterday was definitely the worst of it. I stood outside for a couple of minutes and then listened to the rain fall from my bed...
I'm feeling much better today and so is the air. The air seems much cleaner, and it almost feels like fall here, but there are no pumpkins or changing leaves. It really makes me miss it, even though I used to dread fall because it meant winter was just around the corner. We may be giving up jack-o-lanterns, but we've decided to celebrate Challoween (get it?) instead - costumes, candy, the works. There are also no shortage of pumpkin seeds here...it's a favorite in the Middle East.
Aside from the physical rain, we've also had a lot of reading dumped on us. And the material is pretty heavy. I'm pretty much hearing over and over again how we're screwed and well on our way to making the planet uninhabitable. Go us. The issues are so massive that it can become completely overwhelming and seem hopeless. I've been thinking a lot about how I dealt with my work last year - seeing poverty, severe illness, and injustice daily - and why, in some ways, I am having more trouble with learning about climate change and our current agricultural system than I did then. Not that I was really able to accept or reconcile what I saw last year, but I was able to separate myself in a way that I am having trouble with here. Perhaps it is the fact that I go to class and talk about climate change, and then I come home and read about climate change, and then I talk to everyone around me about it. It's just too much. Last year, when I went home, I made a conscious effort to leave things at work. Or maybe, as Sara said to me, maybe it's because it's "like...the EARTH." I think that sums it up pretty well.
On a more positive note, I get to vote! It should be a given, but I still haven't received my ballot, and I'm kind of starting to freak out. I decided to do some research and see if there were any other options. It turns out that I can mail in a write-in absentee ballot that will be counted if my actual absentee doesn't make it in time. Whew.
- M
I'm feeling much better today and so is the air. The air seems much cleaner, and it almost feels like fall here, but there are no pumpkins or changing leaves. It really makes me miss it, even though I used to dread fall because it meant winter was just around the corner. We may be giving up jack-o-lanterns, but we've decided to celebrate Challoween (get it?) instead - costumes, candy, the works. There are also no shortage of pumpkin seeds here...it's a favorite in the Middle East.
Aside from the physical rain, we've also had a lot of reading dumped on us. And the material is pretty heavy. I'm pretty much hearing over and over again how we're screwed and well on our way to making the planet uninhabitable. Go us. The issues are so massive that it can become completely overwhelming and seem hopeless. I've been thinking a lot about how I dealt with my work last year - seeing poverty, severe illness, and injustice daily - and why, in some ways, I am having more trouble with learning about climate change and our current agricultural system than I did then. Not that I was really able to accept or reconcile what I saw last year, but I was able to separate myself in a way that I am having trouble with here. Perhaps it is the fact that I go to class and talk about climate change, and then I come home and read about climate change, and then I talk to everyone around me about it. It's just too much. Last year, when I went home, I made a conscious effort to leave things at work. Or maybe, as Sara said to me, maybe it's because it's "like...the EARTH." I think that sums it up pretty well.
On a more positive note, I get to vote! It should be a given, but I still haven't received my ballot, and I'm kind of starting to freak out. I decided to do some research and see if there were any other options. It turns out that I can mail in a write-in absentee ballot that will be counted if my actual absentee doesn't make it in time. Whew.
- M
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
To The Rainbow!
Being in a Jewish state, everything closes for Jewish holidays, so we didn't have class over Simchat Torah. Coincidentally, the Rainbow Gathering is going on this month in Israel not far from the Kibbutz. We decided it would be fun to go for the holiday. It was definitely an experience...
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Rainbow, wikipedia has a pretty good explanation. But it is basically a gathering of a bunch of hippies who espouse the values of peace and love. The festival itself includes a lot of dancing and singing, cooking, and sleeping under the stars. I haven't actually slept outside here yet, and sleeping in a rocky and sandy desert is in itself an experience. Not only is the ground incredibly hard, but the sun rises really early here. There was little hope of sleeping in. The Baba didn't help much. He was a crazy German man who started yelling some pretty inappropriate things early in the morning. And voices carry out there.
There were obviously no toilets, so we had everywhere and nowhere to do our business. Needless to say, there aren't many trees or much privacy, so it was kind of just finding as private an area as possible and making do.
It seemed that having dreadlocks or a shaved head, going topless (for both men and women), and smoking was a prerequisite for being part of the "family." It was actually really nice to be somewhere that people felt so comfortable with their bodies, but it took some getting used to. There was definitely a celebratory feeling and a sense of sharing among everyone that was also really wonderful.
We didn't get to our zula (camp site area) until after dark, so I didn't have a good sense for where I was. And right as we were getting there, the food circle was called, so we headed for dinner and afterwards we sang and danced for hours. It was really windy until around 10 or 11, but then it became quite still and peaceful.
The next day a few of us helped prepare lunch. I cut carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squeezed lemons for 2-3 hours. We made sooo much food! It was really fun to sit around with about 20 other people chopping and talking, listening to the music that was around. There was a point at which the Torah was taken out and people were able to make an aliyah for the holiday. And of course there was more singing and dancing.
I felt so disgusting by the afternoon - sitting by the fire, sleeping in the sand, cooking all day, and sweating from the hot sun - that I was so glad to get home and take a shower. It really made me think about the luxuries that we consider basic amenities (did I mention there was no toilet?) and how I have to be in the right mindset to enjoy living that way. I also thought a lot about the values that the Rainbow Gathering family seeks to live out, including peace. But I was really troubled by the fact that they were doing anything. Yeah, it's great to say that you want peace in the world and to object to capitalism and the Man, but what are they doing about it? I shouldn't be so critical and perhaps I should just accept it for what it is, but what is the point and purpose?
Now I'm back in the real world and I get to be depressed by issues like climate change and how effectively we're destroying our environment, not to mention the Isreali-Palestinian conflict and our efforts to learn to live together. And even though I have that feeling of dread that creeps up whenever I am in school, it's also kind of comforting to know that I am trying to do something meaningful for myself and ultimately for society.
Until next time,
M
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Rainbow, wikipedia has a pretty good explanation. But it is basically a gathering of a bunch of hippies who espouse the values of peace and love. The festival itself includes a lot of dancing and singing, cooking, and sleeping under the stars. I haven't actually slept outside here yet, and sleeping in a rocky and sandy desert is in itself an experience. Not only is the ground incredibly hard, but the sun rises really early here. There was little hope of sleeping in. The Baba didn't help much. He was a crazy German man who started yelling some pretty inappropriate things early in the morning. And voices carry out there.
There were obviously no toilets, so we had everywhere and nowhere to do our business. Needless to say, there aren't many trees or much privacy, so it was kind of just finding as private an area as possible and making do.
It seemed that having dreadlocks or a shaved head, going topless (for both men and women), and smoking was a prerequisite for being part of the "family." It was actually really nice to be somewhere that people felt so comfortable with their bodies, but it took some getting used to. There was definitely a celebratory feeling and a sense of sharing among everyone that was also really wonderful.
We didn't get to our zula (camp site area) until after dark, so I didn't have a good sense for where I was. And right as we were getting there, the food circle was called, so we headed for dinner and afterwards we sang and danced for hours. It was really windy until around 10 or 11, but then it became quite still and peaceful.
The next day a few of us helped prepare lunch. I cut carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squeezed lemons for 2-3 hours. We made sooo much food! It was really fun to sit around with about 20 other people chopping and talking, listening to the music that was around. There was a point at which the Torah was taken out and people were able to make an aliyah for the holiday. And of course there was more singing and dancing.
I felt so disgusting by the afternoon - sitting by the fire, sleeping in the sand, cooking all day, and sweating from the hot sun - that I was so glad to get home and take a shower. It really made me think about the luxuries that we consider basic amenities (did I mention there was no toilet?) and how I have to be in the right mindset to enjoy living that way. I also thought a lot about the values that the Rainbow Gathering family seeks to live out, including peace. But I was really troubled by the fact that they were doing anything. Yeah, it's great to say that you want peace in the world and to object to capitalism and the Man, but what are they doing about it? I shouldn't be so critical and perhaps I should just accept it for what it is, but what is the point and purpose?
Now I'm back in the real world and I get to be depressed by issues like climate change and how effectively we're destroying our environment, not to mention the Isreali-Palestinian conflict and our efforts to learn to live together. And even though I have that feeling of dread that creeps up whenever I am in school, it's also kind of comforting to know that I am trying to do something meaningful for myself and ultimately for society.
Until next time,
M
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Norming
It is strikingly clear how atypical my Israel experience has been so far. There is the obvious...I am living with Arabs, Israelis, secular, religious, teenagers, and middle-aged students. It is quite a combination. We're still in the norming phase, so we're one big happy family, but I'm sure that tensions will arise soon enough. I bring up this crazy mixture of people that I will be spending the next four months with, because last night for Shabbat, the differences and juxtapositions all seemed to be highlighted.
Let's start with the fact that I'm in Israel and we we were teaching people about Shabbat, from the meaning to the rituals to the traditions to how it is celebrated on the Kibbutz. One of the unique things about going to Israel is that as a Jew you are not a minority...everyone knows what Shabbat is. Not everyone keeps Shabbat, of course, but you don't have to explain yourself.
I also happen to be rooming with the only female on the program who is shomer shabbat. On the one hand, I am surrounded by people who have very little exposure to Shabbat, and on the other, I am experiencing it in a very traditional way. I also think it's funny that after living in an intentional Jewish community last year, this is the first time I am actually living with someone who is shomer shabbat.
We have non-Jews who have had very little exposure to the religion, and we have secular Jews (mostly Israeli, but some Americans as well) who are culturally Jewish (because they grew up in a Jewish state) or who have minimal Jewish educations. And then there are some practicing Jews from the US. And we're on a Kibbutz that was founded by some Americans that were involved in Young Judea. So there is a space for those that do practice. Of course, it is never so clear cut. I have already noticed some of the typical tension between some of the Reform and traditional Jews. I shouldn't make this generalization as there are some very open and accepting people on both sides of the aisle here, but there have also been a couple of uncomfortable moments. I wonder if this will be a place that American Jews start to hash out their differences as there often seems to be a wide gap between the traditional and liberal forms of Judaism. I want to stress that for the most part people have been very respectful of different traditions and are excited to learn from each other.
There is also a really wide age range - someone just graduated from high school and some people have established careers. I think it's a great opportunity and fairly uncommon to such a variety of perspectives and experiences to bring to the table. Some students will have to go home to work on weekends to keep their jobs. It really makes me think of the commitment and sacrifice that people are making to be here. It seems that for a lot of the Americans who are here for their semester abroad, that it's a chance to travel, get some college credit, and do some environmental work and maybe a little bit of peace building. It is not only the age that brings the different perspectives, but the privilege (or lack thereof) that we come with.
Something else I have realized since coming here is that a lot of the people here came primarily for environmental studies. I have been told multiple times now that two types of people come to the Machon - those who want to study the environment and see coexistence as a way to ultimately help the environment, and those who want to focus on coexistence and see the environment as a tool to help with peacebuilding. Can you guess where I fall? it also seems that, for the most part, the Israelis and Arabs fall into the former category, and it is about half-and-half for the Americans. I don't really know what this reality will mean practically, or how useful such a program really is, and I imagine that it is something I will struggle with a lot throughout the semester.
In addition to the strange and amazing mix of people, some of the other oddities include living on a Kibbutz in the desert. A very small percentage of Israel's population actually lives on Kibbutz (there are about 150 members on Ketura) and most people live in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, or another city north of Be'er Sheva - not on a kibbutz or in the desert. And most people on Ketura are native English speakers, so we're not exposed to Hebrew as much as I would like. All students who received a MASA scholarship are required to take Hebrew, though. And they have decided to put it on Friday, a.k.a. the weekend. The brilliant planning makes it nearly impossible to leave the kibbutz for Shabbat. Genius. So when are we supposed to practice our Hebrew? But we're taking matters into our own hands. That story is for another time, however.
Shavua tov everyone.
-M
Let's start with the fact that I'm in Israel and we we were teaching people about Shabbat, from the meaning to the rituals to the traditions to how it is celebrated on the Kibbutz. One of the unique things about going to Israel is that as a Jew you are not a minority...everyone knows what Shabbat is. Not everyone keeps Shabbat, of course, but you don't have to explain yourself.
I also happen to be rooming with the only female on the program who is shomer shabbat. On the one hand, I am surrounded by people who have very little exposure to Shabbat, and on the other, I am experiencing it in a very traditional way. I also think it's funny that after living in an intentional Jewish community last year, this is the first time I am actually living with someone who is shomer shabbat.
We have non-Jews who have had very little exposure to the religion, and we have secular Jews (mostly Israeli, but some Americans as well) who are culturally Jewish (because they grew up in a Jewish state) or who have minimal Jewish educations. And then there are some practicing Jews from the US. And we're on a Kibbutz that was founded by some Americans that were involved in Young Judea. So there is a space for those that do practice. Of course, it is never so clear cut. I have already noticed some of the typical tension between some of the Reform and traditional Jews. I shouldn't make this generalization as there are some very open and accepting people on both sides of the aisle here, but there have also been a couple of uncomfortable moments. I wonder if this will be a place that American Jews start to hash out their differences as there often seems to be a wide gap between the traditional and liberal forms of Judaism. I want to stress that for the most part people have been very respectful of different traditions and are excited to learn from each other.
There is also a really wide age range - someone just graduated from high school and some people have established careers. I think it's a great opportunity and fairly uncommon to such a variety of perspectives and experiences to bring to the table. Some students will have to go home to work on weekends to keep their jobs. It really makes me think of the commitment and sacrifice that people are making to be here. It seems that for a lot of the Americans who are here for their semester abroad, that it's a chance to travel, get some college credit, and do some environmental work and maybe a little bit of peace building. It is not only the age that brings the different perspectives, but the privilege (or lack thereof) that we come with.
Something else I have realized since coming here is that a lot of the people here came primarily for environmental studies. I have been told multiple times now that two types of people come to the Machon - those who want to study the environment and see coexistence as a way to ultimately help the environment, and those who want to focus on coexistence and see the environment as a tool to help with peacebuilding. Can you guess where I fall? it also seems that, for the most part, the Israelis and Arabs fall into the former category, and it is about half-and-half for the Americans. I don't really know what this reality will mean practically, or how useful such a program really is, and I imagine that it is something I will struggle with a lot throughout the semester.
In addition to the strange and amazing mix of people, some of the other oddities include living on a Kibbutz in the desert. A very small percentage of Israel's population actually lives on Kibbutz (there are about 150 members on Ketura) and most people live in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, or another city north of Be'er Sheva - not on a kibbutz or in the desert. And most people on Ketura are native English speakers, so we're not exposed to Hebrew as much as I would like. All students who received a MASA scholarship are required to take Hebrew, though. And they have decided to put it on Friday, a.k.a. the weekend. The brilliant planning makes it nearly impossible to leave the kibbutz for Shabbat. Genius. So when are we supposed to practice our Hebrew? But we're taking matters into our own hands. That story is for another time, however.
Shavua tov everyone.
-M
Friday, October 17, 2008
Where am I? I look one way and everyone is speaking Arabic. I look the other way and everyone is speaking Hebrew. I like to think I have some grasp on each of these languages, and to an extent I do, but hearing them side-by-side is just causing some major information overload. Part of it is probably the fact that we've been going pretty much nonstop since Sunday, so I'm absolutely exhausted. But I think I would be a lot better off at this point if I just stuck to one of the two languages. I understand parts of the conversations I am eavesdropping on, but when I try to speak, part of it comes out in Hebrew and part of it in Arabic. Instead of Spanglish I'm speaking Hebric? Or at least trying to.
The great thing is that everyone is really enthusiastic and patient in my sorry attempt to speak with them in something other than English. When I sit with the Arabic speaking students, one of them usually goes over the conversation with me afterwards to see how much of it I understood. A pitiful amount if you ask me.
It has been an intense few days with meeting everyone, registering for classes (they start on Sunday!), taking a regional tour extending from Eilat to the Kibbutz, and our first peace-building session this morning. We have officially finished orientation and it has certainly done its job. Not only are people more familiar with the area, the machon, and the kibbutz, but we have become intimately familiar with each other. This may seem like a painfully obvious observation, but we have learned so much about each other as individuals as well as from a social and cultural perspective.
(It has also become abundantly clear to me what my reality will be for the next four months. I thought Avodah was bad - living with each other, having programs, retreats, and shabbatonim - but here we not only live together, we go to school together, eat together, and we'll be talking about some pretty intense stuff. We'll be one big happy family...I'm just glad I can disappear into the mountains for a little while if I have to.)
Some observations:
- Israelis have a very different sense of personal space than Americans - not an earth-shattering comment, but when you're walking with someone you met 5 minutes before and they literally take your water bottle from your hand and start drinking from it, it takes on a new meaning. I love that there is a level of comfort and intimacy with people that we just don't have in the State unless we're really close with someone. Perhaps the water bottle example isn't adequate. There have been numerous interactions that make me pause - people touch each other more freely (get your mind out of the gutter), they share food more readily, and they aren't afraid to get in your face about something. I get that Americans do all of these things, but we've only known each other for five days.
- Arabs really like nargila. I mean really.
- Americans follow the rules too much. We could learn a thing or two from the way Israelis and Arabs do what they need to do even when they aren't "supposed to." It comes in handy when living in a place where that's the norm.
- In general, there seems to be a striking difference between how Jews and Muslims approach religion. I don't know how to articulate very well, but when we were discussing Succot, questions about religious practice and the Torah versus Rabbinic commentary came up. As Jews we put a lot of weight in the commentary and don't necessarily see the Torah as given directly from God. This seemed to be a harder concept for some of the Muslim students to grasp. It seemed obvious to them that the Torah was given directly from God, just like the Koran, and the role of the Rabbis was never fully clarified.
- Arabs make really good tea and coffee - ok, I knew that already, but it's been reinforced here thanks to Muhammad.
Our first peace-building session today was like Avodah all over again with twice as many people! We talked about what reminds us of home and how we define it. I found it fascinating how different people responded. In my group it seemed that the Americans considered a place home based on relationships and connections made with people, while the Arabs, especially the Palestinians, considered the physical location a central aspect of "home." It really made me think of how much Americans take for granted that we don't have to worry about the land, it's a given that it will be there. Palestinians, though, are in a much more vulnerable and precarious position where their physical home is threatened. In a way I think it is really special that they have such ties to the land, but the price for it is probably too high.
And on that note, I'm out.
- M
The great thing is that everyone is really enthusiastic and patient in my sorry attempt to speak with them in something other than English. When I sit with the Arabic speaking students, one of them usually goes over the conversation with me afterwards to see how much of it I understood. A pitiful amount if you ask me.
It has been an intense few days with meeting everyone, registering for classes (they start on Sunday!), taking a regional tour extending from Eilat to the Kibbutz, and our first peace-building session this morning. We have officially finished orientation and it has certainly done its job. Not only are people more familiar with the area, the machon, and the kibbutz, but we have become intimately familiar with each other. This may seem like a painfully obvious observation, but we have learned so much about each other as individuals as well as from a social and cultural perspective.
(It has also become abundantly clear to me what my reality will be for the next four months. I thought Avodah was bad - living with each other, having programs, retreats, and shabbatonim - but here we not only live together, we go to school together, eat together, and we'll be talking about some pretty intense stuff. We'll be one big happy family...I'm just glad I can disappear into the mountains for a little while if I have to.)
Some observations:
- Israelis have a very different sense of personal space than Americans - not an earth-shattering comment, but when you're walking with someone you met 5 minutes before and they literally take your water bottle from your hand and start drinking from it, it takes on a new meaning. I love that there is a level of comfort and intimacy with people that we just don't have in the State unless we're really close with someone. Perhaps the water bottle example isn't adequate. There have been numerous interactions that make me pause - people touch each other more freely (get your mind out of the gutter), they share food more readily, and they aren't afraid to get in your face about something. I get that Americans do all of these things, but we've only known each other for five days.
- Arabs really like nargila. I mean really.
- Americans follow the rules too much. We could learn a thing or two from the way Israelis and Arabs do what they need to do even when they aren't "supposed to." It comes in handy when living in a place where that's the norm.
- In general, there seems to be a striking difference between how Jews and Muslims approach religion. I don't know how to articulate very well, but when we were discussing Succot, questions about religious practice and the Torah versus Rabbinic commentary came up. As Jews we put a lot of weight in the commentary and don't necessarily see the Torah as given directly from God. This seemed to be a harder concept for some of the Muslim students to grasp. It seemed obvious to them that the Torah was given directly from God, just like the Koran, and the role of the Rabbis was never fully clarified.
- Arabs make really good tea and coffee - ok, I knew that already, but it's been reinforced here thanks to Muhammad.
Our first peace-building session today was like Avodah all over again with twice as many people! We talked about what reminds us of home and how we define it. I found it fascinating how different people responded. In my group it seemed that the Americans considered a place home based on relationships and connections made with people, while the Arabs, especially the Palestinians, considered the physical location a central aspect of "home." It really made me think of how much Americans take for granted that we don't have to worry about the land, it's a given that it will be there. Palestinians, though, are in a much more vulnerable and precarious position where their physical home is threatened. In a way I think it is really special that they have such ties to the land, but the price for it is probably too high.
And on that note, I'm out.
- M
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Home Sweet Home
After a long weekend in Jerusalem I'm back in the desert and so relieved to be here. I am surprised at how much I have fallen in love with it. Not that I didn't have a great experience in Jerusalem, but it's definitely not the same. We came back with the new students, so there was a lot of anticipation and excitement around the Israelis and Palestinians finally joining us. Even better, we came back just in time for Succot, so we went to services and are eating in the Succah all week. And to top it off, I went for an amazing hike this morning with ten other students. (We took the Rosh Hadag trail, which translates to "fish head") It felt so natural to be here. I can't describe how or why it feels like home here - especially since I grew up around trees, water, and mountains. I love breathing in the fresh air and the feeling of freedom that I get when I'm in the middle of the barren, rocky hills.
Rosh Hadag - can't you tell?
Before I get lost in the nostalgia of the desert, I'll try to give some highlights from Jerusalem. It was one adventure after another, so I can't do it justice in this post, but hopefully I'll be able to at least get started.
I left on Wednesday morning to get to Jerusalem in time for the last meal before Kol Nidre. The meal was served at 3 pm. We didn't get to Jerusalem until about 2, only about an hour before public transportation stopped running. We had to get from the Central Bus Station to the Old City and then to the hostel before everything shut down. Getting to the Kotel was easy, finding our hostel was not. We had an address, but no one seemed to know where it was. It kept getting later, and shockingly, I started freaking out a little and worrying that we would miss the meal or not get a bed or something. Needless to say we eventually found it with time to spare.
Let me take a moment to explain where we stayed and the type of service we attended. It is a free hostel called Heritage House which is funded by Aish HaTorah - something I didn't know before arriving. For those of you know about Aish HaTorah, it was as scary and uncomfortable as you might imagine. For those of you who don't, their website is www.aish.com, you can also check out the Wikipedia entry.
There are two houses that are gender segregated, so poor Eric was left to his own devices for a large portion of the holiday. We ate our last meal separately, and then when we went to services, not surprisingly, there was a mehitzah. I've been to numerous gender-segregated services, but I've never sat through one where I couldn't see the Ark or the Hazzan. To make it worse, at the beginning of the service, the "ladies" were asked to make sure to walk behind the men when going to our section so as not to disturb the men who were trying to daven. Excuse me. If men don't have the self control or adequate concentration to continue praying when a woman walks in front of them, they have some serious issues that hiding us won't even begin to address. OK, I'm done for the moment. It also took some time to get used to the strong Ashkenazic influence - tav's were pronounced as an "s" and "oh" was "oy."
Heritage House locks its doors for much of the day and they kicked us out pretty early for Yom Kippur. We had to be out by 7:15 am. They didn't force us to go to services or anything, but what else are you going to do on Yom Kippur in the Old City so early? Needless to say, it was painful. We stayed for part of Shachrit and then Elizabeth and I went to the Kotel. It was quite moving to go, but by 10:30, we had had enough. And the Hostel wasn't reopening until 1:30.
I usually try to go to services for most of the day on Yom Kippur, but it became clear quite quickly that this was not going to be spiritually fulfilling or meaningful in a way that I was hoping for. I mean, I don't count as part of a minyan, I'm hidden behind a big curtain, and I can't see the Torah (so why did we bother even standing when the Ark was opened?). I also couldn't stand the hazzan's voice or the constant oy's that punctuated the prayers. I decided that I could get a lot more out of the experience as an intellectual and sociological exercise.
After our high holiday adventure and the fact that we were locked out of the building at 9 am the next morning, we decided to go to another hostel for the rest of our stay - Friday to Sunday. We found a really cheap one, the New Swedish Hostel, on the road leading to the Arab Sook. It was cheap for a reason. The beds were so narrow that we were all afraid we would fall off. There were signs all over including "Do not wash clothes in the sink!" and "Please - Put Your Toilet Paper in the Bin, Not in the Toilet Or It Will Be Closed." I felt as though I was in an airplane when I was in the bathroom. I couldn't stand up straight because the ceiling slanted, and I could barely shut the door because the space was so small. I thought it was pretty hilarious, but Eric wasn't so amused.
The story continues, but it will have to wait for another day. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the unusual weather - it is too cloudy to see the sun right now. It's also pretty windy. Maybe we'll get some rain? That is something I miss...the rain. Perhaps, deep down, I am actually a Seattle-ite...
-M
Rosh Hadag - can't you tell?
Before I get lost in the nostalgia of the desert, I'll try to give some highlights from Jerusalem. It was one adventure after another, so I can't do it justice in this post, but hopefully I'll be able to at least get started.
I left on Wednesday morning to get to Jerusalem in time for the last meal before Kol Nidre. The meal was served at 3 pm. We didn't get to Jerusalem until about 2, only about an hour before public transportation stopped running. We had to get from the Central Bus Station to the Old City and then to the hostel before everything shut down. Getting to the Kotel was easy, finding our hostel was not. We had an address, but no one seemed to know where it was. It kept getting later, and shockingly, I started freaking out a little and worrying that we would miss the meal or not get a bed or something. Needless to say we eventually found it with time to spare.
Let me take a moment to explain where we stayed and the type of service we attended. It is a free hostel called Heritage House which is funded by Aish HaTorah - something I didn't know before arriving. For those of you know about Aish HaTorah, it was as scary and uncomfortable as you might imagine. For those of you who don't, their website is www.aish.com, you can also check out the Wikipedia entry.
There are two houses that are gender segregated, so poor Eric was left to his own devices for a large portion of the holiday. We ate our last meal separately, and then when we went to services, not surprisingly, there was a mehitzah. I've been to numerous gender-segregated services, but I've never sat through one where I couldn't see the Ark or the Hazzan. To make it worse, at the beginning of the service, the "ladies" were asked to make sure to walk behind the men when going to our section so as not to disturb the men who were trying to daven. Excuse me. If men don't have the self control or adequate concentration to continue praying when a woman walks in front of them, they have some serious issues that hiding us won't even begin to address. OK, I'm done for the moment. It also took some time to get used to the strong Ashkenazic influence - tav's were pronounced as an "s" and "oh" was "oy."
Heritage House locks its doors for much of the day and they kicked us out pretty early for Yom Kippur. We had to be out by 7:15 am. They didn't force us to go to services or anything, but what else are you going to do on Yom Kippur in the Old City so early? Needless to say, it was painful. We stayed for part of Shachrit and then Elizabeth and I went to the Kotel. It was quite moving to go, but by 10:30, we had had enough. And the Hostel wasn't reopening until 1:30.
I usually try to go to services for most of the day on Yom Kippur, but it became clear quite quickly that this was not going to be spiritually fulfilling or meaningful in a way that I was hoping for. I mean, I don't count as part of a minyan, I'm hidden behind a big curtain, and I can't see the Torah (so why did we bother even standing when the Ark was opened?). I also couldn't stand the hazzan's voice or the constant oy's that punctuated the prayers. I decided that I could get a lot more out of the experience as an intellectual and sociological exercise.
After our high holiday adventure and the fact that we were locked out of the building at 9 am the next morning, we decided to go to another hostel for the rest of our stay - Friday to Sunday. We found a really cheap one, the New Swedish Hostel, on the road leading to the Arab Sook. It was cheap for a reason. The beds were so narrow that we were all afraid we would fall off. There were signs all over including "Do not wash clothes in the sink!" and "Please - Put Your Toilet Paper in the Bin, Not in the Toilet Or It Will Be Closed." I felt as though I was in an airplane when I was in the bathroom. I couldn't stand up straight because the ceiling slanted, and I could barely shut the door because the space was so small. I thought it was pretty hilarious, but Eric wasn't so amused.
The story continues, but it will have to wait for another day. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the unusual weather - it is too cloudy to see the sun right now. It's also pretty windy. Maybe we'll get some rain? That is something I miss...the rain. Perhaps, deep down, I am actually a Seattle-ite...
-M
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Eilat
So much has happened in the past few days, I hardly know where to start. The most exciting part was definitely our trip to Eilat. Just like everything else with the course we took, the day was jam-packed and pretty intense. It was also daylight savings the night before, so Gidon (our instructor) showed up an hour early...oops. We started by going to the Mariculture and Marine Biotechnology Center, a government-run facility that is tasked with finding economic and "environmentally friendly" ways of producing fish and other sea life that can then be exported. It was pretty interesting to see some of the methods that they are trying, but it felt weird to be in a place that is funded with the intent of exploiting marine life. I suppose that's how people make money, though...
We then went to the aquarium and the underwater observatory where we saw some really great corals and fish. We also saw sea turtles, sting rays, and sharks. The observatory was built in the late 1960s basically into the reef. I don't know how they managed to do it with destroying everything around it, but coral and all of the other marine life is pretty amazing to watch.
The best part was snorkeling, though. We met up with a PhD student who is working on an artificial reef - it is a cement structure and corals have been transplanted onto it. It is currently in the Gulf, so we swam out to it and then looked at other parts of the reef. Well, I'm not sure how good a look I actually got at it. Conditions were pristine, a hot (104 F) clear day, but I couldn't wear my glasses under he goggles and I don't have contacts. The parts that I could see were spectacular, but I know I was missing things. Gidon tried to point out a bottom feeder that was hiding in the sand. It was a nice gesture, but I had little hope of spotting something 20 meters below. I did try to dive down to see it, but attempting to go underwater with fins is not as easy as it looks.
It was also really incredible to see Gidon in action. He seemed so natural in the water, and it was clear that this is really his passion. It came across to an extent in class, but you could tell he was in his element among the corals. It was fantastic enough just to see parts of the reef, but it was really special because we got to see it with someone who has such a deep appreciation and love for it. Ok, I'm done with the sap now.
After a long day of being talked at, walking in the sun, and swimming, we ended the trip with dinner at a Bedouin restaurant. It brought me back to my summer in Jordan - Turkish coffee, tea with sage, amazing flatbread (not pita), hummus, and ful! We sat on these disgusting old couches outside and feasted on this amazing food. And we finished it all off with some nargila.
Of course, no trip to Eilat is complete without a visit to the mall. We did that too, for about an hour. Mostly to change money and go to the pharmacy for some essentials that can't be found on the kibbutz. But still, it epitomized Eilat - tourism galore. But you always know you're in Israel, as we had to go through security to get in.
It is actually quite amazing to be at the southern tip of Israel. You aren't more than a few kilometers from either the Jordanian or the Egyptian border, and you can see Saudi Arabia in the distance. There is such opportunity for collaboration and for that area to become a truly international place, but alas, politics and history get in the way.
I'll leave it at that. I'll post some pictures soon, but now I have to pack because we're moving out of our rooms first thing tomorrow and I'm heading up to Jerusalem for the hag.
- M
We then went to the aquarium and the underwater observatory where we saw some really great corals and fish. We also saw sea turtles, sting rays, and sharks. The observatory was built in the late 1960s basically into the reef. I don't know how they managed to do it with destroying everything around it, but coral and all of the other marine life is pretty amazing to watch.
The best part was snorkeling, though. We met up with a PhD student who is working on an artificial reef - it is a cement structure and corals have been transplanted onto it. It is currently in the Gulf, so we swam out to it and then looked at other parts of the reef. Well, I'm not sure how good a look I actually got at it. Conditions were pristine, a hot (104 F) clear day, but I couldn't wear my glasses under he goggles and I don't have contacts. The parts that I could see were spectacular, but I know I was missing things. Gidon tried to point out a bottom feeder that was hiding in the sand. It was a nice gesture, but I had little hope of spotting something 20 meters below. I did try to dive down to see it, but attempting to go underwater with fins is not as easy as it looks.
It was also really incredible to see Gidon in action. He seemed so natural in the water, and it was clear that this is really his passion. It came across to an extent in class, but you could tell he was in his element among the corals. It was fantastic enough just to see parts of the reef, but it was really special because we got to see it with someone who has such a deep appreciation and love for it. Ok, I'm done with the sap now.
After a long day of being talked at, walking in the sun, and swimming, we ended the trip with dinner at a Bedouin restaurant. It brought me back to my summer in Jordan - Turkish coffee, tea with sage, amazing flatbread (not pita), hummus, and ful! We sat on these disgusting old couches outside and feasted on this amazing food. And we finished it all off with some nargila.
Of course, no trip to Eilat is complete without a visit to the mall. We did that too, for about an hour. Mostly to change money and go to the pharmacy for some essentials that can't be found on the kibbutz. But still, it epitomized Eilat - tourism galore. But you always know you're in Israel, as we had to go through security to get in.
It is actually quite amazing to be at the southern tip of Israel. You aren't more than a few kilometers from either the Jordanian or the Egyptian border, and you can see Saudi Arabia in the distance. There is such opportunity for collaboration and for that area to become a truly international place, but alas, politics and history get in the way.
I'll leave it at that. I'll post some pictures soon, but now I have to pack because we're moving out of our rooms first thing tomorrow and I'm heading up to Jerusalem for the hag.
- M
Friday, October 3, 2008
Sand, Sand Everywhere
It's not terribly surprising that sand is a central feature of the desert. I just mention it because it has become a part of my life in ways I hadn't quite imagined, and there is a surprisingly wide variety of sand here. Well, I'm not sure I would even characterize a lot of it as sand. Rocks, perhaps. Or boulders. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of sand to go around. I just didn't expect that on my morning runs I would have to concentrate so intently on the ground so that I don't break my ankle or do a face plant from tripping over a huge rock in my path. Or that I would have to actually follow a set path. I ridiculously imagined something more like a beach in Florida or the stereotypical pictures seen of the Sahara desert. It is especially ridiculous, seeing as I was in southern Jordan a couple of years ago, and shockingly, it was rocky terrain.
My morning runs have been quite wonderful despite the fact that I miss the great vistas for the majority of it. I have the opportunity to explore the area during sunrise. I like this time of morning because it is quiet and peaceful. It is also really nice to see the colors change as the sun hits the mountains at different angles (the same is true for sunset). Apparently there are fairly dramatic changes in the color of the mountain depending on the time of year as well. I guess I'll have to wait to find out. I also found a running partner! Now I have incentive to keep it up and great conversation for the road.
These runs have their downside as my shoes no longer resemble their original color and I track in lots of unwanted sand. Let's face it. It has nothing to do with running, simply leaving the room and coming back in almost guarantees a fresh layer of sand for the floor. Luckily (or not), we can only feel it as the tile floor happens to be exactly the same color as the ground outside. My sandals, once a lovely deep brown, is now also a dull, dusty tan color. My feet have also taken on a similar hue (but I am anal about washing my feet before I get anywhere near my bed). My backpack and other paraphernalia are slowly taking on this color as well. It's just part of desert life. I now have a greater appreciation for my brother's extreme distaste for a sandy environment. I've figured out that it's not really sand that's the problem, it's that it is so dry that whenever the wind blows it brings up all of the sediment on the ground. Sand is a different matter entirely...
Sand and the desert has made its way into important Jewish rituals here as well. At the end of Rosh Hashana it is traditional to perform tashlich - symbolically casting away one's sins into a flowing body of water. Being in the middle of a desert, it's a challenge to find such a body of water. The Kibbutz members took this problem to some Rabbis who determined that in the absence of water, one can use sand dunes (because it simulates water, in that it constantly moves). For the record, sand dunes do look a lot like the sand found on a Florida beach.
Fortunately for us, there are some wonderful sand dunes about 1 km away from the kibbutz, so I had the unique experience of throwing my bread crumbs into the sand instead of Puget Sound or the Jordan River (in Bloomington, Indiana - not nearly as exciting as the alternative). It seemed very appropriate on a number of levels. I am in a part of the world where sand has become part of the collective psyche. Interestingly, Muslim tradition has a similar view of the use of sand to replace water. Before entering a mosque, Muslims must perform a ritual hand washing. If there is no water available, they are allowed to use sand. And finally, all living creatures come from dust and return to the dust, right? What a beautiful image on the day that we are celebrating the creation of the world!
Ok, I'm off to Shabbat services.
- M
My morning runs have been quite wonderful despite the fact that I miss the great vistas for the majority of it. I have the opportunity to explore the area during sunrise. I like this time of morning because it is quiet and peaceful. It is also really nice to see the colors change as the sun hits the mountains at different angles (the same is true for sunset). Apparently there are fairly dramatic changes in the color of the mountain depending on the time of year as well. I guess I'll have to wait to find out. I also found a running partner! Now I have incentive to keep it up and great conversation for the road.
These runs have their downside as my shoes no longer resemble their original color and I track in lots of unwanted sand. Let's face it. It has nothing to do with running, simply leaving the room and coming back in almost guarantees a fresh layer of sand for the floor. Luckily (or not), we can only feel it as the tile floor happens to be exactly the same color as the ground outside. My sandals, once a lovely deep brown, is now also a dull, dusty tan color. My feet have also taken on a similar hue (but I am anal about washing my feet before I get anywhere near my bed). My backpack and other paraphernalia are slowly taking on this color as well. It's just part of desert life. I now have a greater appreciation for my brother's extreme distaste for a sandy environment. I've figured out that it's not really sand that's the problem, it's that it is so dry that whenever the wind blows it brings up all of the sediment on the ground. Sand is a different matter entirely...
Sand and the desert has made its way into important Jewish rituals here as well. At the end of Rosh Hashana it is traditional to perform tashlich - symbolically casting away one's sins into a flowing body of water. Being in the middle of a desert, it's a challenge to find such a body of water. The Kibbutz members took this problem to some Rabbis who determined that in the absence of water, one can use sand dunes (because it simulates water, in that it constantly moves). For the record, sand dunes do look a lot like the sand found on a Florida beach.
Fortunately for us, there are some wonderful sand dunes about 1 km away from the kibbutz, so I had the unique experience of throwing my bread crumbs into the sand instead of Puget Sound or the Jordan River (in Bloomington, Indiana - not nearly as exciting as the alternative). It seemed very appropriate on a number of levels. I am in a part of the world where sand has become part of the collective psyche. Interestingly, Muslim tradition has a similar view of the use of sand to replace water. Before entering a mosque, Muslims must perform a ritual hand washing. If there is no water available, they are allowed to use sand. And finally, all living creatures come from dust and return to the dust, right? What a beautiful image on the day that we are celebrating the creation of the world!
Ok, I'm off to Shabbat services.
- M
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Forbidden Fruit
"Don't eat from that tree, it's the forbidden fruit," Aaron said as we passed a pomegranate tree (rimonim in Hebrew). What? I had always heard that the fruit picked from the tree of knowledge was an apple. Thinking about it for a moment, it occurred to me that apples probably don't grow so well in this region. I know, it takes a genius to figure that one out. Apparently lots of people came to this conclusion long before I did. We started talking about it more, and there are numerous theories about what the forbidden fruit actually was. Pomegranate? Fig? Wheat?! Wheat seemed odd to me. But it is a staple of life, and some attribute this incident to the need for humans to become an agriculture-based society. Some food for thought.
Speaking of food...something I have been told many times since arriving here, in fact, it has probably happened every time I walk past the date trees with a kibbutz member, I am told about the land of milk and honey. The honey referred to in this context was probably not the honey that comes from bees, I am told, but very likely from dates. It must have been some pretty intensely sweet honey.
Interestingly, a 2000-year-old date seed was found on Masada, efforts were made to germinate it, and now there is an attempt to grow a tree from it. The really cool thing is that Dr. Elaine Soloway, an expert in desert agriculture, a professor at the Arava Institute, and a member of Kibbutz Ketura, is the one doing it. She has successfully grown a sapling at this point and believes that in the next couple of years we will know whether it is male or female, and soon we will hopefully know what the dates tasted like when the Romans occupied the land. There is a great article in Ha'aretz that gives a nice summary of the project.
Dates are one of the economic pillars for the Kibbutz. Not only does it have a lot of historical meaning, but it is central to life here. They are definitely found in abundance. We can visit the date sorting area, where the "rejects" are removed and the rest are prepared for export. The rejects are probably better than anything I've ever had in the States, though. At some point I will probably get sick of eating this delicious and rich food, but like hummus, it hasn't happened yet.
Ketura also relies on their dairy cows for revenue. There is a kibbutz maybe 2 km away from here that has a huge dairy processing plant, and the milk produced on Ketura is sent there along with all of the other milk in the region. You can thank Ketura and the other Kibbutzim in the area for Kibbutz Yotvata's famous chocolate milk in a bag.
Interesting that the land is now literally flowing with milk and honey, yet a lot of it isn't even staying here for our own consumption. This economic structure also contradicts the original conception of Kibbutz life, but reality requires such contradictions (and possibly compromises) sometimes. More food for thought, perhaps.
- M
Speaking of food...something I have been told many times since arriving here, in fact, it has probably happened every time I walk past the date trees with a kibbutz member, I am told about the land of milk and honey. The honey referred to in this context was probably not the honey that comes from bees, I am told, but very likely from dates. It must have been some pretty intensely sweet honey.
Interestingly, a 2000-year-old date seed was found on Masada, efforts were made to germinate it, and now there is an attempt to grow a tree from it. The really cool thing is that Dr. Elaine Soloway, an expert in desert agriculture, a professor at the Arava Institute, and a member of Kibbutz Ketura, is the one doing it. She has successfully grown a sapling at this point and believes that in the next couple of years we will know whether it is male or female, and soon we will hopefully know what the dates tasted like when the Romans occupied the land. There is a great article in Ha'aretz that gives a nice summary of the project.
Dates are one of the economic pillars for the Kibbutz. Not only does it have a lot of historical meaning, but it is central to life here. They are definitely found in abundance. We can visit the date sorting area, where the "rejects" are removed and the rest are prepared for export. The rejects are probably better than anything I've ever had in the States, though. At some point I will probably get sick of eating this delicious and rich food, but like hummus, it hasn't happened yet.
Ketura also relies on their dairy cows for revenue. There is a kibbutz maybe 2 km away from here that has a huge dairy processing plant, and the milk produced on Ketura is sent there along with all of the other milk in the region. You can thank Ketura and the other Kibbutzim in the area for Kibbutz Yotvata's famous chocolate milk in a bag.
Interesting that the land is now literally flowing with milk and honey, yet a lot of it isn't even staying here for our own consumption. This economic structure also contradicts the original conception of Kibbutz life, but reality requires such contradictions (and possibly compromises) sometimes. More food for thought, perhaps.
- M
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)