Today is the ninth day of the Hebrew month Av.
It is a day of mourning and is referred to by its Hebrew date: Tisha b'Av.
It conveniently wraps a number of different disasters and calamities into one packaged holiday, on which a full fast day (from the previous evening until the night) is observed.
Most particularly, Tisha b'Av commemorates the destruction of both the first and second Jewish Temples in Jerusalem (by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and the Romans in 70 CE, respectively). It also coincides with the Jewish expulsion from Spain in 1492, courtesy of Ferdinand and Isabella, and other events of Jewish past.
To commemorate the holiday for my own experience here, I went with a friend from my Hebrew class to a community center in the nearby German Colony neighborhood, more commonly know as Emek Refa'im. The Book of Lamentations was traditionally read and was held outside. Afterward I walked to the tayelet, the boardwalk overlooking the Old City of Jerusalem, which is pretty close to our dorms.
I sat and thought on the promenade and read a few psalms particular to Jerusalem. One line in particular in Psalm 137 resonated with the theme of the holiday and how Zionism resonates with me:
אם אשכחך ירושלים תשכח ימיני
"If I forget thee, O Jerusalem" is how the thought begins. It embodies the sadness and emptiness of being without our freedom, kingdom and capital city and Temple, having been defiled and ruined by oppressors. It is incredibly meaningful to be here to celebrate the holiday, wondering what the rolling hills looked like then and imagining the former kingdoms of Israel, yet proud to be in the modern Jewish state in Jerusalem itself.
Anshel Pfeffer, a reporter for the Israeli daily newspaper Ha'Aretz, wrote an op-ed piece and contends that since we have recreated a new state the Tisha b'Av holiday need not be observed any longer. An article in Israel21c includes Pfeffer's thoughts and opines further.
I think Pfeffer has an interesting argument, though I defer to the end of the previously quoted stanza:
"If I do not remember you, let my tongue stick to my mouth - if I do not elevate Jerusalem above my highest joys."
This thought encapsulates my joys and excitements of being fortunate enough to again live in Jerusalem and enjoy its splendor. At the present time, I could not be happier being here.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
People & Places
My Left Pocket
On the long self-guided tours I take daily, I also bring along with me enough documentation to do most anything at any government office anywhere. My left pocket is a repository for what seems to be a never-ending bundle of documents, IDs and cards that are necessary for a new life here. I feel like I'm going on a trip every day and have to remember to bring everything with me, lest I need something somewhere that I don't have. This does not include, mind you, other papers and notes on which I record my thoughts that add to the depth and density of the left pocket.
Back at the Homefront
Getting back to the barracks I've gone by foot and taken buses. The former is more enjoyable; the latter is more efficient time-wise.
Upon waiting for the #8 bus, I saw the Israeli version of Mr. T. He had a plethora of gold chains, clearly visible from his open shirt and on his belt he had a row of three cell phones on belt clips. Moments after boarding a bus on the way home, I had to re-check the route I was on since it seemed like I got on a roller coaster instead. I was nauseous and almost fell over a series of times - the speed and difficulty level of the course was on par with a black diamond. It seems that either the drivers are at the expert level and can navigate the turns without effort or that, while on their cell phones and punching tickets of oncoming passengers while flying down the track, they are ill-trained and we should actually fear for our lives.
Sitting out on the patio at the entrance of the ulpan dorms, I met some fun people. One, Ronit, seemed to have a foreign accent and said she was from Minnesota. Actually she said Venezuela. But it definitely sounded like Minnesota and she did say that other people had also thought she said Minnesota.
It Pays to Save
After confirming that the bank was open, I went down to their office, which is actually more of a comfortable, nicely furnished customer service center than a typical bank branch - absent of tellers and general transactions typically found in retail banks. Something that is different is the necessity to pay for pretty much every transaction you can think of - from depositing money to a fee for each check you write - as well as the amount of forms that are necessary to sign. I updated my phone number and consequently had to sign two forms. The crazy thing is that, because of the lines and the short time generally available with the representatives, I'm not able to read all of the Hebrew fine-print (which represents the whole page) and am just able to get the gist of what I am doing. I hope I didn't forfeit my assets. Actually that's ok for now too - I still have a $0 balance. I was elated to finally get my credit card, which I had ordered the week before. It doubles as an ATM card and I have a whopping ₪ 2000, which translates to an even more extravagant $500. I guess the bank is going to help me stick to my budget. I also converted my bank account to a student account which will save me on fees for 3-5 years depending on the type of transaction - good thing I saved my Hebrew University student ID from 10+ years ago. It's starting to pay off quite handsomely.
On the long self-guided tours I take daily, I also bring along with me enough documentation to do most anything at any government office anywhere. My left pocket is a repository for what seems to be a never-ending bundle of documents, IDs and cards that are necessary for a new life here. I feel like I'm going on a trip every day and have to remember to bring everything with me, lest I need something somewhere that I don't have. This does not include, mind you, other papers and notes on which I record my thoughts that add to the depth and density of the left pocket.
Back at the Homefront
Getting back to the barracks I've gone by foot and taken buses. The former is more enjoyable; the latter is more efficient time-wise.
Upon waiting for the #8 bus, I saw the Israeli version of Mr. T. He had a plethora of gold chains, clearly visible from his open shirt and on his belt he had a row of three cell phones on belt clips. Moments after boarding a bus on the way home, I had to re-check the route I was on since it seemed like I got on a roller coaster instead. I was nauseous and almost fell over a series of times - the speed and difficulty level of the course was on par with a black diamond. It seems that either the drivers are at the expert level and can navigate the turns without effort or that, while on their cell phones and punching tickets of oncoming passengers while flying down the track, they are ill-trained and we should actually fear for our lives.Sitting out on the patio at the entrance of the ulpan dorms, I met some fun people. One, Ronit, seemed to have a foreign accent and said she was from Minnesota. Actually she said Venezuela. But it definitely sounded like Minnesota and she did say that other people had also thought she said Minnesota.
It Pays to Save
After confirming that the bank was open, I went down to their office, which is actually more of a comfortable, nicely furnished customer service center than a typical bank branch - absent of tellers and general transactions typically found in retail banks. Something that is different is the necessity to pay for pretty much every transaction you can think of - from depositing money to a fee for each check you write - as well as the amount of forms that are necessary to sign. I updated my phone number and consequently had to sign two forms. The crazy thing is that, because of the lines and the short time generally available with the representatives, I'm not able to read all of the Hebrew fine-print (which represents the whole page) and am just able to get the gist of what I am doing. I hope I didn't forfeit my assets. Actually that's ok for now too - I still have a $0 balance. I was elated to finally get my credit card, which I had ordered the week before. It doubles as an ATM card and I have a whopping ₪ 2000, which translates to an even more extravagant $500. I guess the bank is going to help me stick to my budget. I also converted my bank account to a student account which will save me on fees for 3-5 years depending on the type of transaction - good thing I saved my Hebrew University student ID from 10+ years ago. It's starting to pay off quite handsomely.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sunday School Begins
A Combination of 5s
For the first five months in Israel (unless an opportunity arises and whisks me away) I am staying in an absorption center in Southeast Jerusalem in a neighborhood called Talpiot Mizrach. There are people here from all around the world - 34 countries that each speak languages. I have new friends from Brazil, Austria, France, Venezuela, Russia, Ukraine, Italy, Canada and the US&A. Quite an eclectic bunch and even more interesting when Hebrew is the common language denominator to communicate with one another.
For five hours per day for five days each week and for five months this year I will have intensive Hebrew lessons in order to improve my Hebrew abilities to a near-fluent level. Three days each week I have conversational and topical discussions with Mira; the other two days we will learn and review more grammar with..another teacher I haven't yet met. Already at a conversational level with a strong grammar background, I placed into the highest Hebrew level available here. That's a great thing since it shows that my Hebrew is already very good; it's a bit scary though because I'm not sure if I'll have a 'cap' on what I will be able to learn here. I will just take things one day at a time and see how things go until my vocabulary book is filled up.
Things I Don't Understand
Sunday in Israel is a business day. It's a nice thing to be able to get things done on a Sunday and be productive. That's how I look at it at least. I remembered from a previous ego-buster that the banks and post offices have odd hours, to say the least. Enter Exhibit A. After thinking that the bank opened up again at 4pm, I was sorely wrong in that it was closed on Sunday. For the US, fine. For a normal business day in Israel? Not cool. Even more difficult is attempting to remember the time of day the bank is open - it can't be as simple as 9-5 of course - and which days it is open at such times - since the hours very each day of the week. It seems like pulling teeth to get them to work - pretty ironic for a bank whose name translates to "workers' bank," don't you think?
The bus system is actually pretty great here. I'm a big proponent of public transportation and an even bigger fan of self-propelled transport. In the sad absence of my bicycle, I have been walking quite a lot every day. Yet when trying to figure out when the bus is about to come on the nifty schedule boards at many stations, I have trouble understanding everything except the words and numbers. That is to say, they could be written in any order or combination and I would derive the same void of information. If someone can explain this to me I'd very much appreciate it.
As a personal contribution to funny signs around the world,
I thought my family in Chicago would especially appreciate this. Given the number of parking tickets we have had to pay and fight, it's interesting to think that you can just acquire parking tickets without any hassle at all.
The fun lives on - cheers to a good start of the week and beginning of round two of Sunday School!
For the first five months in Israel (unless an opportunity arises and whisks me away) I am staying in an absorption center in Southeast Jerusalem in a neighborhood called Talpiot Mizrach. There are people here from all around the world - 34 countries that each speak languages. I have new friends from Brazil, Austria, France, Venezuela, Russia, Ukraine, Italy, Canada and the US&A. Quite an eclectic bunch and even more interesting when Hebrew is the common language denominator to communicate with one another.
For five hours per day for five days each week and for five months this year I will have intensive Hebrew lessons in order to improve my Hebrew abilities to a near-fluent level. Three days each week I have conversational and topical discussions with Mira; the other two days we will learn and review more grammar with..another teacher I haven't yet met. Already at a conversational level with a strong grammar background, I placed into the highest Hebrew level available here. That's a great thing since it shows that my Hebrew is already very good; it's a bit scary though because I'm not sure if I'll have a 'cap' on what I will be able to learn here. I will just take things one day at a time and see how things go until my vocabulary book is filled up.
Things I Don't Understand
Sunday in Israel is a business day. It's a nice thing to be able to get things done on a Sunday and be productive. That's how I look at it at least. I remembered from a previous ego-buster that the banks and post offices have odd hours, to say the least. Enter Exhibit A. After thinking that the bank opened up again at 4pm, I was sorely wrong in that it was closed on Sunday. For the US, fine. For a normal business day in Israel? Not cool. Even more difficult is attempting to remember the time of day the bank is open - it can't be as simple as 9-5 of course - and which days it is open at such times - since the hours very each day of the week. It seems like pulling teeth to get them to work - pretty ironic for a bank whose name translates to "workers' bank," don't you think?
The bus system is actually pretty great here. I'm a big proponent of public transportation and an even bigger fan of self-propelled transport. In the sad absence of my bicycle, I have been walking quite a lot every day. Yet when trying to figure out when the bus is about to come on the nifty schedule boards at many stations, I have trouble understanding everything except the words and numbers. That is to say, they could be written in any order or combination and I would derive the same void of information. If someone can explain this to me I'd very much appreciate it.
As a personal contribution to funny signs around the world,
I thought my family in Chicago would especially appreciate this. Given the number of parking tickets we have had to pay and fight, it's interesting to think that you can just acquire parking tickets without any hassle at all.The fun lives on - cheers to a good start of the week and beginning of round two of Sunday School!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Gadot Revisited
map of Gadot and surrounding area
My weekend with the kibbutznikim can be summed up in three simple themes:
1 - food
2 - sleep
3 - education
Though Kibbutz Gadot has been gradually changing its structure in favor of more independence for nuclear families and less reliance on the community, there are still meals from which the kibbutz members can partake. I really just like kibbutz food. You always know that within 4 meals at least one will have schnitzel. That's good enough - but there's more, so much more. Salad bars full of hummus and fresh veggies.
Kibbutz cafeteria food is where it's at.
I slept more than I needed to this weekend, though it was a relaxing detour from city life. Actually I woke up at about 8am each morning I was there. Yes, very impressive. Most of the sleeping came in the form of mid-day naps. While walking from one point to another in the kibbutz I really appreciated the wild life and vegetation. I saw a number of lizards (pretty much the squirrels of Israel, both in numbers and the same type of scurrying around locomotion) and noticed a number of flocks of parrots flying around. Pretty cool. There were also more fruits growing on trees than I had seen in any other one place - dates, pomello, oranges, lemon and a host of spices.
Yehuda and Rina took me to Kesem HaGolan, which is basically a tourist destination in Katzrin, the capital of the Golan. We watched a panoramic movie about what the Golan offers since its development by Israel, complete with special effects - and by that I mean things like a mist in the theater when it rained in the video. That's true interactive movie-making. Coming to a theater in Katzrin near you.
The next part of the museum-esque tour-ish thing was a topographical scale model of the Golan, which presented the geological history as well as modern history of the land and importance it maintains for Israel. Before leaving the center, we had some light snacks (I had schnitzel, of course) and tasted really great beer at the Golan Heights Brewery.
Our last stop before heading back to the kibbutz to conclude my visit was at Mitzpe Gadot, a lookout of the Gadot area. We listened to a solar-powered panel that provided more history on the kibbutz itself and provided a testimony from a kibbutz member who lived through the wars with Syria there. Yehuda also was kind enough to educate me in the rockology of the rocks I found on the lookout point. To give a taste of it, the Golan is on the Syrian-African rift and is home to now inactive volcanoes. My other other education was in the form of Hebrew language. From Yehuda, Rina and their daughter Hagit (as well as others on the kibbutz), I spoke pretty much exclusively in Hebrew for the weekend and accumulated four pages of new words into my 'word treasure' in my notebook. It was a pretty enriching, encouraging experience.
The majesty of the landscape and the abundant amount and variety of activities and sites around the Golan are incredible. I'm looking forward to my next trip back to stay at Gadot and start checking things off my list.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Gadot Getaway: Part One (The Original)
So here we go...
Back 10 years and 6 months ago (or, more precisely, 3,839 days ago - thanks Excel) I was on my winter vacation during my year abroad at the Hebrew University's Rothberg School for International Students. I rented a car with a friend, one of his friends and my sister Rachel, who was visiting at the time, and went North to go hiking and see what fortunes would cross our path.
Our first stop was at Kibbutz Ayelet HaShachar, where we had a good time rifling through the armament on their shooting range and had a nice round of target practice with 9mm handguns, desert eagles (an Israeli handgun) and an AK-47 and M-16. We did not want to be discriminatory with our selections, hence the well-rounded training.
We continued further North and stayed the night in Katzrin, the capital of the Golan Heights. The weather was consistently rainy and not too encouraging of hikes or being outside in general.
Nachal Jilaboun
The next morning the other two passengers who came along headed back to Jerusalem because of the weather. Rachel and I were going to head back that afternoon as well but first decided to stop at a nearby trail - Nachal Jilaboun - since the rain was letting up a bit. We parked the car and came upon the first waterfall along the path. At this point, Rachel consulted the "Let's Go! Israel" book (which, at the conclusion of this tale, you will understand why I don't recommend the book) and found that the path continues another 20 minutes to a second, larger waterfall and leads back to the parking lot. Simple enough.
We decided to venture on. Just after making that decision, I recall shielding my face from a sudden swath of hail that had emerged just as the sun had moments earlier. I saw a strange-looking dog close to us, reminiscent of the flying dog-like animal in the Neverending Story - long, white, shaggy, peculiar. The rest of the hike was just that - the trail was situated on two sides of a high, large set of gorges and a river valley in between. We hiked down and crossed the stream several times, and then came up the 'left' gorge. Rachel slipped and fell, hurting her back. This offered a point of reflection - the sky was getting dark as we approached dusk and the ground was difficult to negotiate, having been subjected to heavy rains earlier that day and the previous night, if not more. With each step, we accumulated more and more mud (boatz, in Hebrew), making the task of reaching the top of the gorge an ever-cumbersome task and requiring us to stomp the mud off our shoes by hitting our heels against each other and nearby rocks.
Finally we reached the top and the parking lot and surrounding eucalyptus trees were in sight. We were on the plateau of the top of the gorge, which made the experience more manageable, despite the continued difficulty and frustration with the mud. As we got closer, we realized that what lied beyond the trees was not at all the parking lot, but rather a deserted house, probably an old partially destroyed Syrian military installation. Having just seen "The Blair Witch Project," I was not at all interested in discovering a new place to explore, especially in the middle of a wooded area with the fall of darkness. At this point I was interested in tempering my fear and anxiety from reaching a crescendo, especially since I was interested in making sure that Rachel did not get frightened and start to panic.
There was something else that we did not find once we were among the trees: the path. Rachel and I were a few feet apart at this point, each starting to look for the trail and get back to the car. I'm not sure from where it came, but I turned to my right and, just about 3 feet away from me, a bull was staring at me as he ate some grass. I backed up, keeping eye-to-eye contact with the massive beast. Having kept my cell phone, water and extra layers in the car since we were anticipating a short tour, the only thing I had with my was my camera. I darted in different directions and began firing the flash to find the painted markings of the path we were following since it had reached a point of darkness that my eyes were having trouble adjusting to the dimmer ambient light. I found myself standing on a fence - not a good thing. The Golan Heights, having been conquered from Syria in 1967 and the site of a major war in 1973, was checkered with land mines, which were blocked off by chain link fences. I recognized immediately that I was standing on one of these fences and that it must have fallen as a result of wear and tear, disturbances from the cattle and other similarly-fated travelers. I retraced my steps backward and made sure to look down before I stepped forward.
After more difficulty and building frustrating from not finding the trail, I realized that the path was in the one direction I had not yet considered: just along the long side of the deserted house. I took Rachel and made sure that we passed the house briskly, but not without physically shielding the right side of my face from its view. We now were walking in ankle-deep water on a downward slope, following a large water pipe. To make matters even worse, since it was the height of the rainy season, the shrubbery was overgrown and impinging our way - complicated even more by the multitude of thorns on the shrubs.
Once we reached the bottom of the slope and leveled off, the water got deeper and the trail tougher to find. I continued to fire the flash to find our way, entering more swamp lands and beginning to get even more impatient with our situation. I thought to myself (and maybe even mentioned to Rachel at the time) that in the very far distance were village lights and that we could follow the lights to get help. At this point, it was completely dark. After attempting several possible directions for where I thought the path would continue, I reached denser plantation. All of the sudden, I saw lights from a passing truck in the distance - this was our rallying point.
Together we began to run as best we could, given the additional weight and burden of the thick mud. The rain began to fall again without pause. After what seemed like hours on the dash to the road and days from the start of the hike, we reached Gesher Pkak - the Pkak Bridge (meaning cork for the narrow passage it provided over the Jordan River). The next car to come our direction was a few minutes later, and was driven by Yehuda, a member of Kibbutz Gadot. I stood in the middle of the road, blocking his way. He rolled down the passenger window and I began to recite in Hebrew what happened to us, in a quite alarming voice. Yehuda just calmed us down and told us to get in the car. He took us back to his kibbutz, which I admittedly hadn't heard of before that night, and with his wife Rina, gave us clean clothes, hot showers, food and a place to stay for the night. After we ate dinner, we went straight from the kibbutz dining hall with Yehuda and the kibbutz's security guard to look for our car. We did find it pretty quickly, considering the saga we previously endured, and came back to the kibbutz to rest.
When I hear Rina and Yehuda retell this story from their perspective, Rina is always sure to note that she remembers that day to be one of the worst weather days on record and heard a specific warning on the radio for that night that drivers should not drive in the area where we were. She also always garners a good laugh when she compares Rachel and me to Ami and Tami, the Israeli equivalent of Hansel and Gretl. Yehuda says in a fatherly manner that we don't know how lucky we were. Aside from the balagan (total chaos) that we experienced, we were certainly lucky to find Yehuda and his family. Every trip I have made to Israel I am sure to be in touch with them and visit them again or see some of their kids around the country and consider them to be my family in Israel. Stay tuned for my next set of those on that [less dramatic] visit.
Back 10 years and 6 months ago (or, more precisely, 3,839 days ago - thanks Excel) I was on my winter vacation during my year abroad at the Hebrew University's Rothberg School for International Students. I rented a car with a friend, one of his friends and my sister Rachel, who was visiting at the time, and went North to go hiking and see what fortunes would cross our path.
Our first stop was at Kibbutz Ayelet HaShachar, where we had a good time rifling through the armament on their shooting range and had a nice round of target practice with 9mm handguns, desert eagles (an Israeli handgun) and an AK-47 and M-16. We did not want to be discriminatory with our selections, hence the well-rounded training.
We continued further North and stayed the night in Katzrin, the capital of the Golan Heights. The weather was consistently rainy and not too encouraging of hikes or being outside in general.
Nachal Jilaboun
The next morning the other two passengers who came along headed back to Jerusalem because of the weather. Rachel and I were going to head back that afternoon as well but first decided to stop at a nearby trail - Nachal Jilaboun - since the rain was letting up a bit. We parked the car and came upon the first waterfall along the path. At this point, Rachel consulted the "Let's Go! Israel" book (which, at the conclusion of this tale, you will understand why I don't recommend the book) and found that the path continues another 20 minutes to a second, larger waterfall and leads back to the parking lot. Simple enough.
We decided to venture on. Just after making that decision, I recall shielding my face from a sudden swath of hail that had emerged just as the sun had moments earlier. I saw a strange-looking dog close to us, reminiscent of the flying dog-like animal in the Neverending Story - long, white, shaggy, peculiar. The rest of the hike was just that - the trail was situated on two sides of a high, large set of gorges and a river valley in between. We hiked down and crossed the stream several times, and then came up the 'left' gorge. Rachel slipped and fell, hurting her back. This offered a point of reflection - the sky was getting dark as we approached dusk and the ground was difficult to negotiate, having been subjected to heavy rains earlier that day and the previous night, if not more. With each step, we accumulated more and more mud (boatz, in Hebrew), making the task of reaching the top of the gorge an ever-cumbersome task and requiring us to stomp the mud off our shoes by hitting our heels against each other and nearby rocks.
Finally we reached the top and the parking lot and surrounding eucalyptus trees were in sight. We were on the plateau of the top of the gorge, which made the experience more manageable, despite the continued difficulty and frustration with the mud. As we got closer, we realized that what lied beyond the trees was not at all the parking lot, but rather a deserted house, probably an old partially destroyed Syrian military installation. Having just seen "The Blair Witch Project," I was not at all interested in discovering a new place to explore, especially in the middle of a wooded area with the fall of darkness. At this point I was interested in tempering my fear and anxiety from reaching a crescendo, especially since I was interested in making sure that Rachel did not get frightened and start to panic.
There was something else that we did not find once we were among the trees: the path. Rachel and I were a few feet apart at this point, each starting to look for the trail and get back to the car. I'm not sure from where it came, but I turned to my right and, just about 3 feet away from me, a bull was staring at me as he ate some grass. I backed up, keeping eye-to-eye contact with the massive beast. Having kept my cell phone, water and extra layers in the car since we were anticipating a short tour, the only thing I had with my was my camera. I darted in different directions and began firing the flash to find the painted markings of the path we were following since it had reached a point of darkness that my eyes were having trouble adjusting to the dimmer ambient light. I found myself standing on a fence - not a good thing. The Golan Heights, having been conquered from Syria in 1967 and the site of a major war in 1973, was checkered with land mines, which were blocked off by chain link fences. I recognized immediately that I was standing on one of these fences and that it must have fallen as a result of wear and tear, disturbances from the cattle and other similarly-fated travelers. I retraced my steps backward and made sure to look down before I stepped forward.
After more difficulty and building frustrating from not finding the trail, I realized that the path was in the one direction I had not yet considered: just along the long side of the deserted house. I took Rachel and made sure that we passed the house briskly, but not without physically shielding the right side of my face from its view. We now were walking in ankle-deep water on a downward slope, following a large water pipe. To make matters even worse, since it was the height of the rainy season, the shrubbery was overgrown and impinging our way - complicated even more by the multitude of thorns on the shrubs.
Once we reached the bottom of the slope and leveled off, the water got deeper and the trail tougher to find. I continued to fire the flash to find our way, entering more swamp lands and beginning to get even more impatient with our situation. I thought to myself (and maybe even mentioned to Rachel at the time) that in the very far distance were village lights and that we could follow the lights to get help. At this point, it was completely dark. After attempting several possible directions for where I thought the path would continue, I reached denser plantation. All of the sudden, I saw lights from a passing truck in the distance - this was our rallying point.
Together we began to run as best we could, given the additional weight and burden of the thick mud. The rain began to fall again without pause. After what seemed like hours on the dash to the road and days from the start of the hike, we reached Gesher Pkak - the Pkak Bridge (meaning cork for the narrow passage it provided over the Jordan River). The next car to come our direction was a few minutes later, and was driven by Yehuda, a member of Kibbutz Gadot. I stood in the middle of the road, blocking his way. He rolled down the passenger window and I began to recite in Hebrew what happened to us, in a quite alarming voice. Yehuda just calmed us down and told us to get in the car. He took us back to his kibbutz, which I admittedly hadn't heard of before that night, and with his wife Rina, gave us clean clothes, hot showers, food and a place to stay for the night. After we ate dinner, we went straight from the kibbutz dining hall with Yehuda and the kibbutz's security guard to look for our car. We did find it pretty quickly, considering the saga we previously endured, and came back to the kibbutz to rest.
When I hear Rina and Yehuda retell this story from their perspective, Rina is always sure to note that she remembers that day to be one of the worst weather days on record and heard a specific warning on the radio for that night that drivers should not drive in the area where we were. She also always garners a good laugh when she compares Rachel and me to Ami and Tami, the Israeli equivalent of Hansel and Gretl. Yehuda says in a fatherly manner that we don't know how lucky we were. Aside from the balagan (total chaos) that we experienced, we were certainly lucky to find Yehuda and his family. Every trip I have made to Israel I am sure to be in touch with them and visit them again or see some of their kids around the country and consider them to be my family in Israel. Stay tuned for my next set of those on that [less dramatic] visit.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Another Weekend Begins & More Adventures
Today I finally got a cell phone number, which is due to change tomorrow for some odd reason which will somehow save me money monthly. Stay tuned to see how that works.
Along with my new phone number(s) I sent my first Hebrew texts, which are fun and pretty cool because they have T9 in Hebrew (or should that be ת9 or ט9) and not in English on the phone so it's actually easier to text in Hebrew..
Some weird underlying thought I am beginning to develop, for better or worse, is that I feel like I need to rush everywhere. Not because I'm in a hurry or because I am running late. Rather, every additional second that goes by that you do not have a number and are waiting in line is another second that provides 10+ more people an opportunity to go in front of you. You really don't want to be stuck in the back of a government office/bank/post office line.
Before heading North for the weekend, I made a few quick stops to take care of some more paperwork. I had an 8:30am appointment with the Ministry of Immigration Absorption. Of course I brought the wrong form with me to give them.
On the way to another of these lines - for health insurance this time, a security guard to the building engaged me in a funny conversation. I brought with me a small roller-suitcase for my stuff for the weekend. The guard saw it and started complaining in a heavy Russian Hebrew accent. His philosophy was to let people in the building whom he recognized without putting them through a rigorous security check. Not having seen me before, I guess he wanted me to fit that criteria and complained that his boss was very strict on making him (the security guard!) do his due diligence and actually check peoples' bags.
After receiving my health insurance ID card, I made my way to Jerusalem's central bus station for my exciting weekend getaway to Kibbutz Gadot, in the Upper Galil and on the border of the Golan Heights.
I took Bus 963 to Hazor HaGlilit where Yehuda picked me up and took me back to the kibbutz, this time as an invited guest and not a lost hiker (more on that soon). I had some great soup, schnitzel and tea upon my arrival and enjoyed eating even more food not long thereafter for dinner. It was a nice way to begin the weekend and certainly another great transition to Israel by absorbing the Gadot's tranquil setting.
Along with my new phone number(s) I sent my first Hebrew texts, which are fun and pretty cool because they have T9 in Hebrew (or should that be ת9 or ט9) and not in English on the phone so it's actually easier to text in Hebrew..
Some weird underlying thought I am beginning to develop, for better or worse, is that I feel like I need to rush everywhere. Not because I'm in a hurry or because I am running late. Rather, every additional second that goes by that you do not have a number and are waiting in line is another second that provides 10+ more people an opportunity to go in front of you. You really don't want to be stuck in the back of a government office/bank/post office line.
Before heading North for the weekend, I made a few quick stops to take care of some more paperwork. I had an 8:30am appointment with the Ministry of Immigration Absorption. Of course I brought the wrong form with me to give them.
On the way to another of these lines - for health insurance this time, a security guard to the building engaged me in a funny conversation. I brought with me a small roller-suitcase for my stuff for the weekend. The guard saw it and started complaining in a heavy Russian Hebrew accent. His philosophy was to let people in the building whom he recognized without putting them through a rigorous security check. Not having seen me before, I guess he wanted me to fit that criteria and complained that his boss was very strict on making him (the security guard!) do his due diligence and actually check peoples' bags.
After receiving my health insurance ID card, I made my way to Jerusalem's central bus station for my exciting weekend getaway to Kibbutz Gadot, in the Upper Galil and on the border of the Golan Heights.
I took Bus 963 to Hazor HaGlilit where Yehuda picked me up and took me back to the kibbutz, this time as an invited guest and not a lost hiker (more on that soon). I had some great soup, schnitzel and tea upon my arrival and enjoyed eating even more food not long thereafter for dinner. It was a nice way to begin the weekend and certainly another great transition to Israel by absorbing the Gadot's tranquil setting.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Happy One Week Anniversary!
Today I moved my belongings from Rafi's place, where I have been for my first full week in Israel, to Beit Canada at Ulpan Etzion, just a few minutes by car further Southeast. Ulpan Etzion is an immigration absorption center that provides subsidized housing, meals language instructions and cultural outings for new immigrants from all over the world. This ulpan is unique in that all most all of the participants are part of the single 20s and 30s crowd. I waited around until someone was able to register me and get through some light paperwork and assign me a room. It was actually pretty interesting and telling of the place and experience: during my wee induction to the premises, the facility's coordinator also briefed new immigrants from Kyrgyzstan and France along side me.
Next, I took my belongings to my room. I immediately laughed out loud when I got to the room. It was pretty simple and had no need for all the hangers my mom insisted I take with me (though I did eventually find a closet by the apartment entrance). I wandered around until I could find someone to administer the Hebrew test so they would be able to evaluate into which level class I should be placed. I was very proud that I only got one wrong from all 50 questions - though it was also disappointing because I made a careless mistake and actually knew the answer to the question on which I erred.
Lunch time. It was free and delicious. I met some new friends from Australia, England, Brazil and Detroit City. What a crew. After the meal I headed off back to Rafi's place to take care of some odds and ends. I could have used climbing gear: the incline on that hill was so ridiculous.
I'm glad at least at this point that I don't have my bike. Aside from the grade of the road, I found a moment to appreciate the place itself. Though I was a bit unsure of coming to live in Jerusalem, I have really enjoyed it here. If you pause to recognize the spirituality and historical context of the land, it can be quite an incredible and surreal state. The beauty of the open hills and the significance of the place converge here, encouraging my excitement and allowing me to recognize the awesomeness of being able to walk in this newly modern ancient land.
I met Rafi back at his place in Baka and left with him pretty quickly after that to take care of some errands in town.
On the bus ride to the center of the city, we noticed a uniquely Israel sighting: a man seated in front of us was studying from the Talmud. First stop: to attempt to complete my health insurance registration. What gave me the notion that the office would be open at 4pm on a Wednesday? I'm not quite sure. Sure enough, whenever they are open, they should be open until the late afternoon. Usually. Except today, when they close at 1pm. Instead of getting aggravated I just left with a smile and an understanding of that's how things work here.
My next stop was the Cellcom cell phone store. After comparing other immigrants' plans, I decided to take something that was a bit more modest and where I was able to find a deal. I again smiled and thought to myself that I'm probably doing a decent job integrating with Israeli society since I now have two cell phones that I will use. Craziness. It's been a great week in Israel and I'm looking forward to more of them.
Next, I took my belongings to my room. I immediately laughed out loud when I got to the room. It was pretty simple and had no need for all the hangers my mom insisted I take with me (though I did eventually find a closet by the apartment entrance). I wandered around until I could find someone to administer the Hebrew test so they would be able to evaluate into which level class I should be placed. I was very proud that I only got one wrong from all 50 questions - though it was also disappointing because I made a careless mistake and actually knew the answer to the question on which I erred.
Lunch time. It was free and delicious. I met some new friends from Australia, England, Brazil and Detroit City. What a crew. After the meal I headed off back to Rafi's place to take care of some odds and ends. I could have used climbing gear: the incline on that hill was so ridiculous.
I'm glad at least at this point that I don't have my bike. Aside from the grade of the road, I found a moment to appreciate the place itself. Though I was a bit unsure of coming to live in Jerusalem, I have really enjoyed it here. If you pause to recognize the spirituality and historical context of the land, it can be quite an incredible and surreal state. The beauty of the open hills and the significance of the place converge here, encouraging my excitement and allowing me to recognize the awesomeness of being able to walk in this newly modern ancient land.I met Rafi back at his place in Baka and left with him pretty quickly after that to take care of some errands in town.
On the bus ride to the center of the city, we noticed a uniquely Israel sighting: a man seated in front of us was studying from the Talmud. First stop: to attempt to complete my health insurance registration. What gave me the notion that the office would be open at 4pm on a Wednesday? I'm not quite sure. Sure enough, whenever they are open, they should be open until the late afternoon. Usually. Except today, when they close at 1pm. Instead of getting aggravated I just left with a smile and an understanding of that's how things work here.My next stop was the Cellcom cell phone store. After comparing other immigrants' plans, I decided to take something that was a bit more modest and where I was able to find a deal. I again smiled and thought to myself that I'm probably doing a decent job integrating with Israeli society since I now have two cell phones that I will use. Craziness. It's been a great week in Israel and I'm looking forward to more of them.
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