This week, Career-Israel trekked South to the Negev. On our last day, we visited a community of "Black Hebrews." They claim they are Jewish and have Jewish backgrounds. Our speaker told us that when the Romans were invading and destroyed the Second Temple, natural instinct says to go South as they were coming from the North. So while some tribes moved East, they moved South to Africa. During the British Empire and the Slave Trade, many tribes in the African villages were split up and those who were taken did not have time to bring symbolic materials with them and only carried on the oral tradition. In the Americas, the speaker said, the slaves talked about their Jewish heritage through songs. The songs were about the Jordan River, not the Ganges or the Euphrates River, as well as about the Messiah not Christ.
In 1966, a priest in Chicago had a 45 second vision (even the speaker seemed a little skeptical about that) to bring the Black Hebrews back to their homeland the next year. So in 1967, when J. Edgar Hoover and Martin Luther King were making the mark in history, 400 Black Hebrews left America for Liberia. The visionary said that they were to return via the same route they took. Liberia welcomed them with open arms, but after a few years they knew this was not the place they were supposed to be because of the disease, death, and economy. And so they trekked onward to Israel.
In Israel, they were granted citizenship under the Law of Return, which gives any Jew the right to citizenship. They established a community where diet and health are regulated. They follow an organic vegan diet and exercise three times a week. These laws are mandated by the community. The leader of the community said that no one has ever been sick and all the diseases that "they" say African-Americans are predisposed to do not appear on any charts.
Why do they claim they are Jewish? First of all, they say "Judaism" means from the tribe of Judah and if they can claim this then they are Jewish. In addition, they follow the laws of the Torah. Not the Talmud or any other interpretation. They supposedly follow exactly what the Torah says. Besides the fact that the Torah specifically says not to do this, there are a few inconsistencies. They wear fringes on their garments in the interpretive manner, but they shave the four corners of their face and not everyone wears a kippah. They observe Shabbat, but they fast when the Torah clearly says not to do this.
Up until this point, I could understand their interpretations on religion even if I did not agree. I do not think they are Jewish, but I can see where they are coming from. It was when we took a tour of the community that my doubts began to simmer. They still believe in polygamy, but do not practice it because "Israel still don't think it be cool." (Side note: Since most of them are Black and from the US, the little kids speak like they are from the Block) In addition, everything is based on the conscience of an individual. There are no locks on the doors because if someone does steal from them, the individual has pay the price. If they do not exercise three times a week, it's the individual that has to pay the price. There are no consequences. We spoke to the Doctor who essentially believes that beings can live forever. At first I thought that he meant if we eat right and exercise right, then we can live the same amount of years as the biblical characters. However, someone directly asked him if he thought that humans could live forever and he said yes. I asked him about deterioration of the brain and his answer was that the community is only 40 years old, you can't see the results yet.
The Black Hebrews are definitely something I will be thinking about in the future.
In addition to this community, we hiked through Mitzpe Ramon and Maktesh Gadol, which is actually smaller than Mitzpe Ramon since they discovered Ramon after, and saw some beautiful views in Ein Avdat. Now that I am back in Jerusalem, I can appreciate the desert and can safely say I will not live there, despite the propaganda we were given, and I am so thankful for indoor plumbing.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Questions, questions, questions
Working at a school for seeing-impaired children has raised many questions for me that I would love to research:
1. How does attachment style in blind children differ from those who are not?
2. How are the blind affected by gender stereotypes?
3. Where/How does a blind individual pick up certain social cues?
4. What's the standard for determining attraction?
When I was sitting in a classroom listening to professors lecture me about how so-and-so had a huge list of questions, all I could think of was "how has everything not been answered already?" However, working in an environment of my interest promotes me to think about the psychology behind how these blind children grow up. It's a very different world if you are blind and as a seeing-person, I imagine a difficult one too.
1. How does attachment style in blind children differ from those who are not?
An experiment done by Mary Main concluded that there are 4 different attachment styles both for children and later discovered by Cindy Hazan and Phillip Shaver that the same can be applied to adults:
Secure: Child protests caregivers departure and looks for comfort
Avoidant: Little distress upon caregivers departure
Ambivalent/Resistant: Distressed upon caregiver's departure, but unable to comforted upon the return
Disorganized: Display of contradictory behaviors
While it is the bus/taxi drivers that drop the kids off, not the parents, I wonder how our presence in the classroom effects the children. One boy, for example, will give anyone a hug. Is it that he doesn't get enough attention at home? Or is it that his mother is avoidant when dealing with him? One of the girls shows no change in emotion when we say she is going home nor does she show any emotion when she enters the classroom. One thing she does do is cry a lot despite being greatly attached to one of the other teachers. These are the kids that are completely blind as opposed to the ones who can see, but only slightly.
On Sunday, we had a Chanukkah party with the parents. It was mostly the moms, but there was one or two dads, at least in my classroom. The kids all look exactly like their parents. It was adorable seeing them together. It was also easy to see why some of the kids act the way they do. The boy who is always giving out hugs, had a mother who didn't really seem that interested in making the dreidel with her son. He is obviously vying for attention. In my opinion, I think that he wants to be touched so that he knows he exists. His whole world is through sensory tactility. Even when I put him to sleep, I will hold his hand. This doesn't usually help, but at least he stops crying.
The girl who is attached to everyone, but has one specific one she loves, and who I would classify as "secure attachment", had both her parents there as well as her older sister from one of the other classrooms. The girl who is the most independent and talkative had a mother who let her be creative while guiding her in the correct steps. And the boy who is quiet, but knows exactly where to put his arms and legs when you pick him up has mother who is quiet and shy, but was attentive towards the boy.
2. How are the blind affected by gender stereotypes?
In many of my psychology text books, there was always the claim that children learned about stereotypes based on observation. One specific example that I remember was a picture of a girl putting on lipstick with her mother. If blind children are unable to observe because of their impairment, how do they realize their gender? I could see that if a child heard mostly women's voices from the kitchen and mostly men's voices from the living area, that an assumption could be made that women are in the kitchen because they do the cooking. That's how females learn that stereotype. At a family get-together, who are the ones that are usually in the kitchen helping out and who are the ones sipping a beer on the porch?
I ask this question because one of the kids was wearing his twin sister's socks. Another boy was wearing a pair of pants that were clearly from the girls' section. Being unable to see what colors and style they are actually wearing, how is gender specified. In addition, I wonder if blind children are more willing to play with toys that are commercialized for the other gender. There are no gender specific toys in our classroom. There's a pink ball or a purple bell, but no Barbies and trucks. Because they are unable to see this gender-specific toys, how do they understand the world in terms of "male" and "female"?
3. Where/How does a blind individual pick up certain social cues?
When seeing-individuals talk to someone, they are subconsciously reading the other's face. We see when we verbally hurt someone when their facial expression changes. We then know not to talk about that subject anymore and we move on to a different one. Since the blind are unable to see these subtle changes, are they more in tune with tone of voice? Even seeing people use their sub-conscious to determine tone of voice.
On Friday, I was across the room and called to one of the kids. She turned, looked at me, and gave me the cutest smile and sparkling eyes. When I call the blind boy's name, he'll turn his head and say "what?" He doesn't realize that the correct social response is to turn and respond to my smile on my face. This also goes for table manners as well. Obviously one and two year olds don't really have table manners. However, they know they are supposed to sit until they are done eating (even if they don't want to) and they know how big of bite they need to take, most of the time, so that they won't choke. The blind boy is able to feel how big the cookie is, but he still stuffs the whole thing in his mouth and asks for another one. He is always the first one done with breakfast and lunch unless one of us gives him his food piece by piece. The seeing kids still stuff the food into their face, but they don't usually bite off more than they can handle.
4. What's the standard for determining attraction?
I think it would be interesting to look at married blind couples. There have been experiments where it has been proven that the most successful marriages are the ones where the two people have similar facial features. I guess the blind would be able to use touch as their method of attraction, but what how else do they determine this? While physical attraction is not everything in a relationship, it is part of it so how do the blind take this into account, if at all?
When I was sitting in a classroom listening to professors lecture me about how so-and-so had a huge list of questions, all I could think of was "how has everything not been answered already?" However, working in an environment of my interest promotes me to think about the psychology behind how these blind children grow up. It's a very different world if you are blind and as a seeing-person, I imagine a difficult one too.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Visitor or Resident?
While waiting to meet a friend, the security guard by Jaffa Gate made small chit-chat with me and asked me if I was visiting here or living here.
I was unsure of how to answer that.
I'm a visitor as I'm not yet here permanently. I don't know every place in Jerusalem and still need help when I go into unfamiliar territory. I can barely communicate with cashiers and I can hardly haggle at the Shuk. I travel every weekend or so to a different place in Israel that I haven't seen. I don't know how to get there and I don't know how to get back without intensive planning and stressing.
But I'm also a resident. I don't need a map to figure out where I'm going in the streets of Jerusalem. I know the twists and turns of the road enough that I don't have to pay attention to the bus route I'm taking and can read a book. I know my way around the confusing shuk of the Old City. I know certain landmarks and the non-touristy places to eat. I feel like a resident, but I'm a visitor. My parents came to visit me last week and I was the one that took them to a different part of Jerusalem. I knew where the good coffee shops and the good bakeries were. I knew the shortcuts and the best time of day to visit a site. Even when we went North to Tiberias and Nahariya, while I didn't know exactly where we were, the roads were sort of familiar. And, Israeli standards are the same every where. It didn't faze me that there were vegetables for breakfast (unlike the more fruity one in the US) nor did it faze me when I saw our small room in one of the hotels.
However, in light of current events (Fire in Haifa), I feel even more like a resident. On Thursday, the program took us to Haifa for a cultural tour. When we arrived at the Bahai'i Gardens, we could see a smoke cloud, but it was nothing to worry about. Our tour guide told us that there is a firing range near Carmel Park (where the fire seemed to be coming from) and that someone probably hit something accidentally setting it on fire. We continued onward to Elisha's Cave in Jewish tradition and Elijah's cave in Christian tradition. The church was beautiful and serene. The smoke reigned over us as we ate lunch and hiked down to Elijah's cave where the question of "what makes a holy site holy" was proposed. Elijah's cave is a hunk of rock. Who's to say that Elijah stayed here. Where's the proof? On the other hand there are many things in Judaism that are based on faith. Because of that, we create reasons and thoughts as well as special places that can accommodate the ideas and people of the Torah. As we reached our last stop before dinner, the madrichim began collaborating. The fire in Haifa was worse than they thought. By the time we finished hearing about Ahmadiyya Islam, three out of the four entrances to the Druze village were closed. In order to make up for that, we went all the way around Mt. Carmel. As the bus passed the beach, it seemed as if it was 430 in the afternoon when in reality it wasn't even 3. The cloud from the fire covered up the sun giving it a neon pink glow. We could see the helicopters weaving in and out, either for news reports or for humanitarian efforts. As the bus continued, I saw the actual flames and the reality of the situation hit me.
I had studied in Haifa in two years ago. I was on those mountains. I hiked through that park. My friend and I got lost in that park. I know people who live in Haifa. Who have made Aliyah and are living there. But it wasn't only that. The situation was first-hand. I wasn't hearing this from the news. I was seeing this. Natural disaster first-hand. Israel wasn't a far away country. I was here. I AM here. The only thing on the news is the fire. The only things people are talking about is the fire. When I rode the bus to work on Friday, the radio had new reports about the fire. When I walked into work, the first thing my co-worker said to me was "did you hear what happened". This is the worst fire Israel has had. A Ha'aretz reporter went as far as comparing it to the Yom Kippur War in 1973 as Israel was completely unprepared for both disasters.
Because I so involved in the situation, I can feel more empathetic than I would if I was in the US. It's not that I wouldn't feel bad if I was at home, it's just that it's that I can more easily relate to the situation because I am living here. Thus, I am a resident of Israel.
pictures of the previous few weeks
I was unsure of how to answer that.
I'm a visitor as I'm not yet here permanently. I don't know every place in Jerusalem and still need help when I go into unfamiliar territory. I can barely communicate with cashiers and I can hardly haggle at the Shuk. I travel every weekend or so to a different place in Israel that I haven't seen. I don't know how to get there and I don't know how to get back without intensive planning and stressing.
But I'm also a resident. I don't need a map to figure out where I'm going in the streets of Jerusalem. I know the twists and turns of the road enough that I don't have to pay attention to the bus route I'm taking and can read a book. I know my way around the confusing shuk of the Old City. I know certain landmarks and the non-touristy places to eat. I feel like a resident, but I'm a visitor. My parents came to visit me last week and I was the one that took them to a different part of Jerusalem. I knew where the good coffee shops and the good bakeries were. I knew the shortcuts and the best time of day to visit a site. Even when we went North to Tiberias and Nahariya, while I didn't know exactly where we were, the roads were sort of familiar. And, Israeli standards are the same every where. It didn't faze me that there were vegetables for breakfast (unlike the more fruity one in the US) nor did it faze me when I saw our small room in one of the hotels.
However, in light of current events (Fire in Haifa), I feel even more like a resident. On Thursday, the program took us to Haifa for a cultural tour. When we arrived at the Bahai'i Gardens, we could see a smoke cloud, but it was nothing to worry about. Our tour guide told us that there is a firing range near Carmel Park (where the fire seemed to be coming from) and that someone probably hit something accidentally setting it on fire. We continued onward to Elisha's Cave in Jewish tradition and Elijah's cave in Christian tradition. The church was beautiful and serene. The smoke reigned over us as we ate lunch and hiked down to Elijah's cave where the question of "what makes a holy site holy" was proposed. Elijah's cave is a hunk of rock. Who's to say that Elijah stayed here. Where's the proof? On the other hand there are many things in Judaism that are based on faith. Because of that, we create reasons and thoughts as well as special places that can accommodate the ideas and people of the Torah. As we reached our last stop before dinner, the madrichim began collaborating. The fire in Haifa was worse than they thought. By the time we finished hearing about Ahmadiyya Islam, three out of the four entrances to the Druze village were closed. In order to make up for that, we went all the way around Mt. Carmel. As the bus passed the beach, it seemed as if it was 430 in the afternoon when in reality it wasn't even 3. The cloud from the fire covered up the sun giving it a neon pink glow. We could see the helicopters weaving in and out, either for news reports or for humanitarian efforts. As the bus continued, I saw the actual flames and the reality of the situation hit me.
I had studied in Haifa in two years ago. I was on those mountains. I hiked through that park. My friend and I got lost in that park. I know people who live in Haifa. Who have made Aliyah and are living there. But it wasn't only that. The situation was first-hand. I wasn't hearing this from the news. I was seeing this. Natural disaster first-hand. Israel wasn't a far away country. I was here. I AM here. The only thing on the news is the fire. The only things people are talking about is the fire. When I rode the bus to work on Friday, the radio had new reports about the fire. When I walked into work, the first thing my co-worker said to me was "did you hear what happened". This is the worst fire Israel has had. A Ha'aretz reporter went as far as comparing it to the Yom Kippur War in 1973 as Israel was completely unprepared for both disasters.
Because I so involved in the situation, I can feel more empathetic than I would if I was in the US. It's not that I wouldn't feel bad if I was at home, it's just that it's that I can more easily relate to the situation because I am living here. Thus, I am a resident of Israel.
pictures of the previous few weeks
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
"What is a Jew?" Part 2: Religion vs. State
We had a seminar on Thursday that discussed the democracy-theocracy issue in Israel. When the state of Israel was created, there was no constitution ever written. Today, this issue still stands and it is what creates the tension between secular Jews and religious Jews, "secular" and "religion" being broad terms as well as "Jewish" and "democracy." For this seminar, "democracy" was simply people electing people and "Jewish" referred to demography. "Secular," however, was much more defined by stating that the State of Israel does not subject them to restrictions based on the laws written thousands of years ago. "Religious" was a state in which everyday life is run by the laws and customs that are the basis for Judaism. The problem with no clear definitions of what any of these terms are (ie no constitution) the issues that arise in the political arena are numerous. We heard about the problems with conversion if you are not halachically Jewish and how they can lead into issues later with marriage and possible divorce. We heard about the civil service of the yeshiva boys versus the Army for secular Jews. My personal opinion of this is not a positive one. While I think that the duty of these men and women is a great way to contribute to Israeli society, it is not the same as the Army. At all. Maybe the conflict is relatively peaceful now, but those in the Army are risking their lives to defend their country. They don't have a choice. They have to be there because the Israeli government says so. The Year of Service is nothing compared to that. Working in hospitals or shelters or schools is not the same as being in the Army. On a separate note, the Israeli secular Jews are drafted into the Army, but aren't even considered legally married while, conversely, Israeli religious Jews don't serve in the Army yet are still dictating the laws of the state.
The Charedi Rabbi that spoke with us doesn't see anything wrong with this. He doesn't believe that in 20 years, secular studies will be needed. The students at the yeshiva schools aren't learning math and science. They are unable to succeed in the modern world because they all study Torah and Tanach and know only basic math skills. Some people in the group tried arguing with him that it is possible to be religious while in the modern world and used New York as an example. The Charedi there learn when they are not working. It's a compromise of the modern world. The government should not be subsidizing such activities if the people aren't supporting themselves. It's the welfare of Israel. Later in our small discussion groups, we were told that their society is slowly changing. Five years ago, you wouldn't have seen a cellphone, but now they have kosher phones (no internet, no texting. Just dialing). The material of the clothing has improved slightly and the women, especially the teenage girls, dress nicely.
We were also told that the Orthodox women are more outspoken about their rights. A Reform lady who is a women's rights activist told us stories of how the women are standing up for themselves. They try to pray in their own way. Some of them do not like the fact that they have to look over the separation barrier of the Kotel to see their son read from the Torah. A few of these women have joined her organization called Women of The Wall.
The whole day was thought provoking and as I exited the seminar into the streets of Jerusalem, it was not hard to see the dichotomy of people. How much should the non-religious be willing to give? How willing are the religious willing to let go? The problem with the religion aspect of the conflict is that it makes Israel what it is. What other country shuts down for over 24 hours? What other country can you walk into a restaurant and know you are eating kosher meat (putting aside high kashrut standards)? Where else in the world can you walk clad in black with peyis without a second glance? All these things are what make Israel such a special country, but like everything else, there is a limit to how much is too much. What is fair?
The Charedi Rabbi that spoke with us doesn't see anything wrong with this. He doesn't believe that in 20 years, secular studies will be needed. The students at the yeshiva schools aren't learning math and science. They are unable to succeed in the modern world because they all study Torah and Tanach and know only basic math skills. Some people in the group tried arguing with him that it is possible to be religious while in the modern world and used New York as an example. The Charedi there learn when they are not working. It's a compromise of the modern world. The government should not be subsidizing such activities if the people aren't supporting themselves. It's the welfare of Israel. Later in our small discussion groups, we were told that their society is slowly changing. Five years ago, you wouldn't have seen a cellphone, but now they have kosher phones (no internet, no texting. Just dialing). The material of the clothing has improved slightly and the women, especially the teenage girls, dress nicely.
We were also told that the Orthodox women are more outspoken about their rights. A Reform lady who is a women's rights activist told us stories of how the women are standing up for themselves. They try to pray in their own way. Some of them do not like the fact that they have to look over the separation barrier of the Kotel to see their son read from the Torah. A few of these women have joined her organization called Women of The Wall.
The whole day was thought provoking and as I exited the seminar into the streets of Jerusalem, it was not hard to see the dichotomy of people. How much should the non-religious be willing to give? How willing are the religious willing to let go? The problem with the religion aspect of the conflict is that it makes Israel what it is. What other country shuts down for over 24 hours? What other country can you walk into a restaurant and know you are eating kosher meat (putting aside high kashrut standards)? Where else in the world can you walk clad in black with peyis without a second glance? All these things are what make Israel such a special country, but like everything else, there is a limit to how much is too much. What is fair?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
"What is a Jew?"
A Jew in Israel, An Israeli Jew, An American/Australian/Hungarian/Russian Jew. All different things, as I learned on my Shabbat trip to Ein Gedi.
We began with "What is a Jew?" I think that it is important to note that it didn't say "Who is a Jew?" The difference being the identification process. "Who" involves the personal identification whereas "what" involves how others see you. The list included about 35 items ranging from "celebrating the major holidays and feasts" to "practicing Jewish values--'...if I am not for myself who will be for me.'" to "creating my own Jewish identity" Individually, we chose five items that we thought were the most important and then in small groups narrowed them down even more. The one the mostly everyone agreed on was "creating my own Jewish identity" and the most debated one was "being born from a Jewish mother". I agreed with this statement because Judaism is a religion that can be interpreted however you want, but I think that there is a line between tradition and modernity. The laws that have been in placed have kept the Jewish people alive. Sure, you can say "it's only one law", but then why not throw out the other ones that you don't agree with. The hard part about this question was that there was a girl in my group who considers herself Jewish, but was born to a Jewish father and still hasn't halachicaly (based on Jewish Law) been converted, although she is planning to. For her, this is a sensitive subject as she considers herself a (reform) Jew, but more religious Jews do not. She is a Jew in Israel.
Kabblat Shabbat was used as a time to discuss this weekly holiday in Israel. Most of the people in this group were not religious, although there were a few, and it was evenly split between Foreigners and Israelis. All the non-religious people agreed that having no transportation in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv is a pain because they can't go anywhere. At the same time though, they find it nice to spend that one day during the week with family. For me, as a Conservative Jew, I like that Israel shuts down on Shabbat. There is no where else in the world where nothing is opened for over 24 hours. I like that on a Wednesday when I go to the shuk, the tenders will wish me Shabbat Shalom. However, as a Conservative Jew, I like to do Shabbat in my own way. If I were to live here, I'd live in Tel Aviv. It's a secular city where there is no transportation and if I really wanted to keep Shabbat, it would be easy, but if I didn't want to then I wouldn't have to.
By dinnertime Friday night, the Israelis and Americans had become good friends despite the fact that we had only met each other a few hours before. This allowed us to speak openly about the issues that would come into play. We talked about the stereotypes of how the other sees us. One girl commented that she resented being viewed as rude because it gave a bad name to the country. However, every other Israeli disagreed commenting that it's not their rudeness that Americans dislike, it's the fact that Israelis are so blunt. We talked about it is like to be Jewish in our home country, which included US, Canada, Russia, Australia, Hungary, and Guatemala. Both the US and Canada have communities that are Jewish and unless you live in small town or a mid-western state, it is unlikely that you will not encounter a Jew. Yes, there are places in the US where you can walk for miles without encountering one, but there are also places where you can barely go one block without encountering another Jew. The girl from Australia and the guy from Hungary both said that there is a very small Jewish community and you could walk for days without seeing another Jew. Most of the Foreigners were able to grasp this concept, but many of the Israelis could not. They walk down the street without thinking twice about their Judaism. In America, I am always aware of being Jewish. There is never a day where I don't mention my Judaism, but here, there is no need to explain anything. Everyone understands. The majority of people here are Jewish.
The Jewish people have a long history. Out task on Saturday morning, was to decide the most important event. We were given a list from Abraham to Moses. From the Second Temple to the Diaspora. From the Holocaust to the State of Israel. I personally chose receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai because without it, Judaism would not be what it is. It is the basis for the religion and relays the rules and regulations as well as stories and morals of behavior. Everyone was all over the place with their choices so there was no majority. The Madrich tried to challenge our decisions to help us think about the Jewish people.
After a short break of lunch, a short walk through Ein Gedi, and a Swim in the Dead Sea, we concluded our dialogue by discussing if the issue at hand was "b'seder" (ok) or "lo b'seder" (not ok). We talked about both American and Israeli issues from American Idol to Bibi and Obama. The last question the Madrich asked was "dating a non-Jew" Most of the Israelis said "lo b'seder" and most of the Foreigners said "b'seder". We then explained to them that when you're in Israel chatting someone up, you don't have to think about if they're Jewish or not because most likely, they are, but in America that is not the case, and it is much harder to find a Jew who you are willing to go out with. One of the religious girls compared it to her finding someone with the same religious standards as her. Not everyone is as religious as she is and there are people who are more religious than her. While it's not quite the same, as it is easier to become more religious than to change religions, I respect her comparison.
But. A Jew is a Jew no matter where you are and a random one will most likely invite you to a Shabbat dinner if you need one.
We began with "What is a Jew?" I think that it is important to note that it didn't say "Who is a Jew?" The difference being the identification process. "Who" involves the personal identification whereas "what" involves how others see you. The list included about 35 items ranging from "celebrating the major holidays and feasts" to "practicing Jewish values--'...if I am not for myself who will be for me.'" to "creating my own Jewish identity" Individually, we chose five items that we thought were the most important and then in small groups narrowed them down even more. The one the mostly everyone agreed on was "creating my own Jewish identity" and the most debated one was "being born from a Jewish mother". I agreed with this statement because Judaism is a religion that can be interpreted however you want, but I think that there is a line between tradition and modernity. The laws that have been in placed have kept the Jewish people alive. Sure, you can say "it's only one law", but then why not throw out the other ones that you don't agree with. The hard part about this question was that there was a girl in my group who considers herself Jewish, but was born to a Jewish father and still hasn't halachicaly (based on Jewish Law) been converted, although she is planning to. For her, this is a sensitive subject as she considers herself a (reform) Jew, but more religious Jews do not. She is a Jew in Israel.
Kabblat Shabbat was used as a time to discuss this weekly holiday in Israel. Most of the people in this group were not religious, although there were a few, and it was evenly split between Foreigners and Israelis. All the non-religious people agreed that having no transportation in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv is a pain because they can't go anywhere. At the same time though, they find it nice to spend that one day during the week with family. For me, as a Conservative Jew, I like that Israel shuts down on Shabbat. There is no where else in the world where nothing is opened for over 24 hours. I like that on a Wednesday when I go to the shuk, the tenders will wish me Shabbat Shalom. However, as a Conservative Jew, I like to do Shabbat in my own way. If I were to live here, I'd live in Tel Aviv. It's a secular city where there is no transportation and if I really wanted to keep Shabbat, it would be easy, but if I didn't want to then I wouldn't have to.
By dinnertime Friday night, the Israelis and Americans had become good friends despite the fact that we had only met each other a few hours before. This allowed us to speak openly about the issues that would come into play. We talked about the stereotypes of how the other sees us. One girl commented that she resented being viewed as rude because it gave a bad name to the country. However, every other Israeli disagreed commenting that it's not their rudeness that Americans dislike, it's the fact that Israelis are so blunt. We talked about it is like to be Jewish in our home country, which included US, Canada, Russia, Australia, Hungary, and Guatemala. Both the US and Canada have communities that are Jewish and unless you live in small town or a mid-western state, it is unlikely that you will not encounter a Jew. Yes, there are places in the US where you can walk for miles without encountering one, but there are also places where you can barely go one block without encountering another Jew. The girl from Australia and the guy from Hungary both said that there is a very small Jewish community and you could walk for days without seeing another Jew. Most of the Foreigners were able to grasp this concept, but many of the Israelis could not. They walk down the street without thinking twice about their Judaism. In America, I am always aware of being Jewish. There is never a day where I don't mention my Judaism, but here, there is no need to explain anything. Everyone understands. The majority of people here are Jewish.
The Jewish people have a long history. Out task on Saturday morning, was to decide the most important event. We were given a list from Abraham to Moses. From the Second Temple to the Diaspora. From the Holocaust to the State of Israel. I personally chose receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai because without it, Judaism would not be what it is. It is the basis for the religion and relays the rules and regulations as well as stories and morals of behavior. Everyone was all over the place with their choices so there was no majority. The Madrich tried to challenge our decisions to help us think about the Jewish people.
After a short break of lunch, a short walk through Ein Gedi, and a Swim in the Dead Sea, we concluded our dialogue by discussing if the issue at hand was "b'seder" (ok) or "lo b'seder" (not ok). We talked about both American and Israeli issues from American Idol to Bibi and Obama. The last question the Madrich asked was "dating a non-Jew" Most of the Israelis said "lo b'seder" and most of the Foreigners said "b'seder". We then explained to them that when you're in Israel chatting someone up, you don't have to think about if they're Jewish or not because most likely, they are, but in America that is not the case, and it is much harder to find a Jew who you are willing to go out with. One of the religious girls compared it to her finding someone with the same religious standards as her. Not everyone is as religious as she is and there are people who are more religious than her. While it's not quite the same, as it is easier to become more religious than to change religions, I respect her comparison.
But. A Jew is a Jew no matter where you are and a random one will most likely invite you to a Shabbat dinner if you need one.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
It's the Experience that Counts
I hate the Shuk. I hate the fishy odor that wafts only at the entrances. I hate feeling other people's sweat drip onto me. I hate that I don't know how much anything costs because I can't understand if shesh esrey means sixteen shekels or six shekels and ten agurot (agurot like cents). I hate how I can't buy all my groceries there. I feel uncomfortable and immodest in my blue jeans and sweatshirt.
I love the Shuk. I love the smell of fresh pita that swims through the air. I love the crowded pushy people who don't care that you've been waiting three minutes to pay for your items. I love that everything is so cheap. I love that you can taste the spices and dried fruit and no one will say anything. I love how there is a diamond store amongst the fruit stands. I love the chatter of bargaining and the announcements of how much bananas are.
What I hate about the Shuk is also what I love about it. In order to get to the Shuk, the bus I take passes through one of the really Orthodox neighborhoods, Mea Shearim. Most of the time I don't notice that I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, but when the bus passes through the neighborhood, I suddenly become self aware with not only the way I'm dressed, but how I am dressed. By the time the bus arrives at the Shuk, a sea of black and white have taken over. Except me in my bright pink shirt.
I also sort of feel this way when I walk to work. The Wolfson Towers are well-known building that has no religious affiliation. People from my program have gone there for doctors appointments. But, it's located in an Orthodox community. Most of the teachers are religious, although this has a lot to do with the fact that for many of them, this is their Year of Service, instead of serving in the Army. Still, I'm surrounded by long skirts, long sleeves, and Naot sandals. All the girls where them. There are maybe three teachers who wear jeans. Some of the other volunteers aren't religious either, but when they leave at 12, there's just me.
The other day at school, I arrived an hour before lunch time when the kids were starting Massage Therapy. I was told I wasn't needed and could go take a break. Apparently this woman didn't realize that I had just arrived. I wasn't needed, though, because there were seven instructors (teachers and therapists) and seven kids. And me. I sat down anyway knowing I would have free time in a little bit when the kids took their nap. As I was observing and trying to understand what was happening, one of the little girls reached her hands out to me and started crying. Massage Therapy isn't so hard that I couldn't follow along with everyone else. The teacher (this was a volunteer) could have easily given me the child and she would have been happy the whole time. Instead, she cried and fussed and the teacher asked me (yes, I'm sure she was serious. yes, I'm sure that's what she asked me) "why does she like you?" Excuse me? These kids know me! I've been with them for 25 hours a week for the past month. You're with them for four hours a week once a week. They're not going to remember you as well as me. No offense or anything, but a child of year may find your face familiar, but they may not feel comfortable with you if you don't see them regularly. The other two girls in the class have also taken a liking to me. The one that always cried when I touched her gave me a smile today and played with me. I don't blame her for not liking me at first. I'm a stranger who is picking her up and making her wash her hands. The other girl is completely blind, but I think she knows my voice and my touch. When I pick her up she automatically wraps her arms and legs around me.
After being at work, speaking Hebrew and listening to Hebrew, it's weird to go home and hear English. Both are completely different languages. They have different word flow and letter formation. I'm not talking about the physical letters, but the verbal aspect. Hebrew comes from your throat. To me as a foreigner of the language, it sounds like someone is speaking with their mouth full. English, however, sounds more musical and smoother. When I say English, I mean all versions of English. In Hebrew, the letters are spoken more softly than in English which I think is why when Americans speak Hebrew it's so obvious. The word "Lomed" (to learn), for example, uses the tongue behind the teeth. Your tongue dances on the roof of your mouth. But Americans pronounce each letter with more emphasis. The tongue darts in front of your teeth. It also doesn't help the as soon as I say a word with "rrr" in it, everyone knows I'm a foreigner. In Hebrew, the R sound is said with your throat, but in English, it is made with the shape of your tongue. Both languages, however, are beautiful to listen to.
I love the Shuk. I love the smell of fresh pita that swims through the air. I love the crowded pushy people who don't care that you've been waiting three minutes to pay for your items. I love that everything is so cheap. I love that you can taste the spices and dried fruit and no one will say anything. I love how there is a diamond store amongst the fruit stands. I love the chatter of bargaining and the announcements of how much bananas are.
What I hate about the Shuk is also what I love about it. In order to get to the Shuk, the bus I take passes through one of the really Orthodox neighborhoods, Mea Shearim. Most of the time I don't notice that I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, but when the bus passes through the neighborhood, I suddenly become self aware with not only the way I'm dressed, but how I am dressed. By the time the bus arrives at the Shuk, a sea of black and white have taken over. Except me in my bright pink shirt.
I also sort of feel this way when I walk to work. The Wolfson Towers are well-known building that has no religious affiliation. People from my program have gone there for doctors appointments. But, it's located in an Orthodox community. Most of the teachers are religious, although this has a lot to do with the fact that for many of them, this is their Year of Service, instead of serving in the Army. Still, I'm surrounded by long skirts, long sleeves, and Naot sandals. All the girls where them. There are maybe three teachers who wear jeans. Some of the other volunteers aren't religious either, but when they leave at 12, there's just me.
The other day at school, I arrived an hour before lunch time when the kids were starting Massage Therapy. I was told I wasn't needed and could go take a break. Apparently this woman didn't realize that I had just arrived. I wasn't needed, though, because there were seven instructors (teachers and therapists) and seven kids. And me. I sat down anyway knowing I would have free time in a little bit when the kids took their nap. As I was observing and trying to understand what was happening, one of the little girls reached her hands out to me and started crying. Massage Therapy isn't so hard that I couldn't follow along with everyone else. The teacher (this was a volunteer) could have easily given me the child and she would have been happy the whole time. Instead, she cried and fussed and the teacher asked me (yes, I'm sure she was serious. yes, I'm sure that's what she asked me) "why does she like you?" Excuse me? These kids know me! I've been with them for 25 hours a week for the past month. You're with them for four hours a week once a week. They're not going to remember you as well as me. No offense or anything, but a child of year may find your face familiar, but they may not feel comfortable with you if you don't see them regularly. The other two girls in the class have also taken a liking to me. The one that always cried when I touched her gave me a smile today and played with me. I don't blame her for not liking me at first. I'm a stranger who is picking her up and making her wash her hands. The other girl is completely blind, but I think she knows my voice and my touch. When I pick her up she automatically wraps her arms and legs around me.
After being at work, speaking Hebrew and listening to Hebrew, it's weird to go home and hear English. Both are completely different languages. They have different word flow and letter formation. I'm not talking about the physical letters, but the verbal aspect. Hebrew comes from your throat. To me as a foreigner of the language, it sounds like someone is speaking with their mouth full. English, however, sounds more musical and smoother. When I say English, I mean all versions of English. In Hebrew, the letters are spoken more softly than in English which I think is why when Americans speak Hebrew it's so obvious. The word "Lomed" (to learn), for example, uses the tongue behind the teeth. Your tongue dances on the roof of your mouth. But Americans pronounce each letter with more emphasis. The tongue darts in front of your teeth. It also doesn't help the as soon as I say a word with "rrr" in it, everyone knows I'm a foreigner. In Hebrew, the R sound is said with your throat, but in English, it is made with the shape of your tongue. Both languages, however, are beautiful to listen to.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
No Laughing Matter
Children who have a physical impairment or disability tend to look different. Those without disabilities like to think of ourselves as unbiased. We like to think everyone is the same. It doesn't matter how they look, we'll treat them just the same. This is not the reality, though, and we tend to favor those who are more "attractive" and treat them differently. It doesn't matter whether they are handicapped or not. In the classroom in which I work, there are three "normal" looking children, the other two clearly have eye problems (one boy has one yellow eye and one wandering eye and one of the girls has her eyes are always closed), and the last one is albino and there's a boy with, I think, William's Syndrome.
Now, I know you're not supposed to have favorites, but I do. All teachers have favorites even if they pretend that they don't. The two that are my favorite (and everyone else's) are the cutest of the bunch. I try my best to play with all the kids equally and think for the most part we all succeed in that, but I think that subconsciously I may treat one kid differently. Maybe I'm not as interactive with one kid. Or maybe my tone of voice is slightly lower. Maybe my body language gives a slightly more negative message. We all do this with people.
Maybe the fact that the other teachers and I are paying slightly more attention to the cuter ones increases their progress. Because their progress increases, they are able to continue a "normal" life. Because they are praised and played with so much, they may be more outgoing. Maybe because we might praise them more, they will have more self confidence. Isn't is sort of eerie how one moment can affect a child's life forever? So maybe the kids with physical impairments wouldn't be as successful anyway. People judge and presume. Their self confidence is not as high, their self esteem is definitely low, and since their "attractiveness" isn't as high as maybe some other kids with similar handicaps, it all adds up to not being as successful. This is a general observation and can be applied to anyone, handicapped or not. Maybe people who are more "attractive" are outgoing because they know they are more likely to get positive feedback (ie a cute kid sitting looking around may get a smile from someone) whereas more withdrawn people are afraid to act out because they will not get the same feedback (A funny looking child who looks around may not get any feedback at all)
I'm used to these kids now. I don't give a second glance to the yellow-eyed boy, but when I first met him my first reaction was "why is there pus in his eye?" This kid isn't the cleanest one either. His hair is always a mess (and hopefully he'll be turning 3 soon so that it will be cut. There's a tradition in the orthodox community not to cut a boy's hair until age 3), there's always snot running down his nose, and there's food on his face. Even if this kid came in with 20/20 vision, I think I would have been a little grossed out. As a parent, you should make sure your kid is clean. I understand that there are bad days, so I'll give you a little leeway, but seriously, wash the kid's face after breakfast.
I think that it would be interesting to look at this in more depth. To study and research the psychological outcomes of attractiveness. I know that there is some research on it. Another research topic that would be really interesting to look at is the psychological state of the residents in Sderot. We went to Sderot on Wednesday, the place where rockets are shot from Gaza. We were told that during rocket fires, you have fifteen seconds to find a shelter. The citizens in the town will find shelter, wait for the boom of the rocket, and continue on as normal. That is not a way to live life. That is not the way for a child to grow up.
Thinking about going to Sderot didn't scare me...until we got there and the Madricha warned us about "Tzeva Adom", the alarm system warning us of rockets. She said that it probably wouldn't happen because "the rockets are now infrequent. Maybe once a week." Um, yea, that's still pretty frequent in my eyes. We wouldn't be outside for that long, but just in case the alarm went off, we were to cram into the nearest bomb shelter or sandwich between the buses. When we were allowed time for lunch, everyone sort of stayed together. Usually we're together, but we'll spread out around a block or two, but here we all squished into one falafel restaurant. You could feel the compromise of our safety.
In Sderot, we heard different organizations talk, from both the right wing and the left wing. One NGO called Other Voices talks to citizens in Gaza frequently, about once a week. (The juxtapositions of frequency was just as ironic when I was there). One lady told her story and I came to realize that whether her not her story is true, it is a metaphor for the behavior of Israelis and Palestinians. Her daughter was best friends with an Arab girl (they were living in Egypt at the time) and the Arab invited everyone to her birthday party, except the daughter. The Arab mother would not allow a Jew into her home. When it came time for the daughter's birthday party, they decided to have it at a venue that was not home and the Arab mother allowed her daughter to go. Everyone is now friends and still speaks to each other. That's the short version.
We then went on a bus tour of the city, stopping first at the police station where the rockets were collected. When I first looked at them, I couldn't help but think "Oh, this happened a long time ago" History stuff. But then the tour guide noted the date written on one of the rockets. September 2010 (i don't remember the exact date). That was just last month. Conflict is still going on. I mean, duh, I knew that, but it's not the same when Sderot is still a foreign place. It was just a place I heard of from the news. A small town on the edge of Gaza. That's exactly what it is, but now that I've been there it's more real. More tangible. I have more connection with it.
We stopped at an outlook and saw Gaza. This is the only place where I took a person picture. One of myself only to prove that I was there. Everywhere else on the trip, I did not think such pictures were appropriate. I think that it would have been ok if those who were in the pictures weren't being so laxed about the situation, but I don't think that it's a laughing matter to have to have so many bomb shelters within a certain amount of feet. It's not funny or a happy situation that there are thousands of rockets laying in the police station. Later when we went to Gush Katif, a settlement in Nitzan also by Gaza, people were taking satirical pictures inside the bomb shelters. I think that you do have to create jokes out of the situation, but for our group, I do not think that was appropriate. We all come from a place where was is distant. We haven't been in Israel long enough to start making jokes. I mean, at any point in the day those bomb shelters could go from beautiful graffitied concrete to saving our lives.
http://picasaweb.google.com/112163354927968040752/Sderot?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7Lv8CYw861vQE#
Now, I know you're not supposed to have favorites, but I do. All teachers have favorites even if they pretend that they don't. The two that are my favorite (and everyone else's) are the cutest of the bunch. I try my best to play with all the kids equally and think for the most part we all succeed in that, but I think that subconsciously I may treat one kid differently. Maybe I'm not as interactive with one kid. Or maybe my tone of voice is slightly lower. Maybe my body language gives a slightly more negative message. We all do this with people.
Maybe the fact that the other teachers and I are paying slightly more attention to the cuter ones increases their progress. Because their progress increases, they are able to continue a "normal" life. Because they are praised and played with so much, they may be more outgoing. Maybe because we might praise them more, they will have more self confidence. Isn't is sort of eerie how one moment can affect a child's life forever? So maybe the kids with physical impairments wouldn't be as successful anyway. People judge and presume. Their self confidence is not as high, their self esteem is definitely low, and since their "attractiveness" isn't as high as maybe some other kids with similar handicaps, it all adds up to not being as successful. This is a general observation and can be applied to anyone, handicapped or not. Maybe people who are more "attractive" are outgoing because they know they are more likely to get positive feedback (ie a cute kid sitting looking around may get a smile from someone) whereas more withdrawn people are afraid to act out because they will not get the same feedback (A funny looking child who looks around may not get any feedback at all)
I'm used to these kids now. I don't give a second glance to the yellow-eyed boy, but when I first met him my first reaction was "why is there pus in his eye?" This kid isn't the cleanest one either. His hair is always a mess (and hopefully he'll be turning 3 soon so that it will be cut. There's a tradition in the orthodox community not to cut a boy's hair until age 3), there's always snot running down his nose, and there's food on his face. Even if this kid came in with 20/20 vision, I think I would have been a little grossed out. As a parent, you should make sure your kid is clean. I understand that there are bad days, so I'll give you a little leeway, but seriously, wash the kid's face after breakfast.
I think that it would be interesting to look at this in more depth. To study and research the psychological outcomes of attractiveness. I know that there is some research on it. Another research topic that would be really interesting to look at is the psychological state of the residents in Sderot. We went to Sderot on Wednesday, the place where rockets are shot from Gaza. We were told that during rocket fires, you have fifteen seconds to find a shelter. The citizens in the town will find shelter, wait for the boom of the rocket, and continue on as normal. That is not a way to live life. That is not the way for a child to grow up.
Thinking about going to Sderot didn't scare me...until we got there and the Madricha warned us about "Tzeva Adom", the alarm system warning us of rockets. She said that it probably wouldn't happen because "the rockets are now infrequent. Maybe once a week." Um, yea, that's still pretty frequent in my eyes. We wouldn't be outside for that long, but just in case the alarm went off, we were to cram into the nearest bomb shelter or sandwich between the buses. When we were allowed time for lunch, everyone sort of stayed together. Usually we're together, but we'll spread out around a block or two, but here we all squished into one falafel restaurant. You could feel the compromise of our safety.
In Sderot, we heard different organizations talk, from both the right wing and the left wing. One NGO called Other Voices talks to citizens in Gaza frequently, about once a week. (The juxtapositions of frequency was just as ironic when I was there). One lady told her story and I came to realize that whether her not her story is true, it is a metaphor for the behavior of Israelis and Palestinians. Her daughter was best friends with an Arab girl (they were living in Egypt at the time) and the Arab invited everyone to her birthday party, except the daughter. The Arab mother would not allow a Jew into her home. When it came time for the daughter's birthday party, they decided to have it at a venue that was not home and the Arab mother allowed her daughter to go. Everyone is now friends and still speaks to each other. That's the short version.
We then went on a bus tour of the city, stopping first at the police station where the rockets were collected. When I first looked at them, I couldn't help but think "Oh, this happened a long time ago" History stuff. But then the tour guide noted the date written on one of the rockets. September 2010 (i don't remember the exact date). That was just last month. Conflict is still going on. I mean, duh, I knew that, but it's not the same when Sderot is still a foreign place. It was just a place I heard of from the news. A small town on the edge of Gaza. That's exactly what it is, but now that I've been there it's more real. More tangible. I have more connection with it.
We stopped at an outlook and saw Gaza. This is the only place where I took a person picture. One of myself only to prove that I was there. Everywhere else on the trip, I did not think such pictures were appropriate. I think that it would have been ok if those who were in the pictures weren't being so laxed about the situation, but I don't think that it's a laughing matter to have to have so many bomb shelters within a certain amount of feet. It's not funny or a happy situation that there are thousands of rockets laying in the police station. Later when we went to Gush Katif, a settlement in Nitzan also by Gaza, people were taking satirical pictures inside the bomb shelters. I think that you do have to create jokes out of the situation, but for our group, I do not think that was appropriate. We all come from a place where was is distant. We haven't been in Israel long enough to start making jokes. I mean, at any point in the day those bomb shelters could go from beautiful graffitied concrete to saving our lives.
http://picasaweb.google.com/112163354927968040752/Sderot?authkey=Gv1sRgCL7Lv8CYw861vQE#
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
All Work and no Play...Oh Wait
My internship started last week at a preschool called Gan Eliyah. There are four classrooms. One class is babies, though they range from 8 months to 2 years. Those on the older side have more developmental problem than seeing problems while the babies are more developmentally on track except for the processes affected from their eyes. The second classroom is ~2 to 3 years old. In this class, all the kids are basically developmentally normal, but they have seeing problems. They can walk and talk and comprehend which is better when it comes to a relationship with the child. The third classroom is also 1-3 year olds, but the have developmental problems as well as seeing problems. The fourth classroom is a kindergarten, the kids are 4 or 5 and the majority of them are normal. There are 2 kids who are completely blind and 2 or 3 kids who are partially seeing-impaired. These kids, since they're older, can talk and play, etc.
The first day in a new classroom is always hard. You don't know the kids. They don't know you. With babies, it especially hard to form a relationship because they don't talk at all and they mostly sleep the whole day. The older kids are speaking Hebrew and they speak slow enough so I can understand, but not always clear enough. Plus, they are still learning the language themselves and when they mispronounce a word that sounds like a real word, I just stand there thinking "what are you saying???". One of the girls in the Gan said to me "You don't speak well." Well, thanks for boosting my confidence. Also in the Gan are two kids that speak English and I don't think they knew that I also spoke English and when I said something to them they were baffled. Since they are the only two that speak English, they pride themselves on it and don't like that I know what they are saying. The boy, however, gave in when I helped him find his shoe which was in the chest of dress up toys. The girl still has yet to say something nice to me.
My schedule was very erratic last week since my supervisor didn't really know when she needed me, but she made a set schedule for me. I'm working 4 days a week, including Sundays and Fridays. Most Israelis work Sundays, but not Fridays. So, my days off are Wednesday and Thursday, when no one else has a day off and I'm the only one in the Kfar Studentim (where I live). It will give me time to go to the shuk and clean which as of I now, I desperately need to do, there just won't be anyone to go with. I'm going to try to ask for one of the weekend days off instead of one of the weekday ones.
Also, instead of being in all 4 classrooms in the course of a week, I am now with one room, the 1-3 year olds. The kids are so adorable, one of them reminds me of my sister when she had glasses. (Sorry Leah). His parents are American so if I get frustrated with him, I can just speak in English. Although, he has not been a problem at all. He's very sweet. Another girl is just learning to speak and her favorite word is "Todah", but she mostly just says "dah". This got me thinking about the psychological process of learning. "Dah" is the easiest cluster to say, but in America we assume it's "dada" and we praise the child or repeat "Dada, daddy, etc." In Israel "Dah" is short for "Todah", but even if the child say "Dada" it sounds like "Todah" and the child is praised for that word instead. The cutest girl in the class (I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but she's also the baby of the class so there's the justification) has the wide eyes and she is just about to walk. By the end of November, she will definitely be walking and standing on her own. There's one boy who is partially blind and fussy. There's 2 other boys in the class, but I don't know what's wrong with them. Most of the kids in the class have an astigmatism in their eyes and/or have a lazy eye.
My internship is basically the only thing I'm doing because after being out of my apartment for 12 hours, I don't feel like going out or doing anything. I also don't have weekends off (yet) so whenever I'm chilling with friends, I'm usually about to fall asleep. What I'm saying is don't expect any interesting posts or pictures for a few weeks. I think we have a seminar in a few weeks in Sderot and one in Ein Gedi so you can expect pictures then.
The first day in a new classroom is always hard. You don't know the kids. They don't know you. With babies, it especially hard to form a relationship because they don't talk at all and they mostly sleep the whole day. The older kids are speaking Hebrew and they speak slow enough so I can understand, but not always clear enough. Plus, they are still learning the language themselves and when they mispronounce a word that sounds like a real word, I just stand there thinking "what are you saying???". One of the girls in the Gan said to me "You don't speak well." Well, thanks for boosting my confidence. Also in the Gan are two kids that speak English and I don't think they knew that I also spoke English and when I said something to them they were baffled. Since they are the only two that speak English, they pride themselves on it and don't like that I know what they are saying. The boy, however, gave in when I helped him find his shoe which was in the chest of dress up toys. The girl still has yet to say something nice to me.
My schedule was very erratic last week since my supervisor didn't really know when she needed me, but she made a set schedule for me. I'm working 4 days a week, including Sundays and Fridays. Most Israelis work Sundays, but not Fridays. So, my days off are Wednesday and Thursday, when no one else has a day off and I'm the only one in the Kfar Studentim (where I live). It will give me time to go to the shuk and clean which as of I now, I desperately need to do, there just won't be anyone to go with. I'm going to try to ask for one of the weekend days off instead of one of the weekday ones.
Also, instead of being in all 4 classrooms in the course of a week, I am now with one room, the 1-3 year olds. The kids are so adorable, one of them reminds me of my sister when she had glasses. (Sorry Leah). His parents are American so if I get frustrated with him, I can just speak in English. Although, he has not been a problem at all. He's very sweet. Another girl is just learning to speak and her favorite word is "Todah", but she mostly just says "dah". This got me thinking about the psychological process of learning. "Dah" is the easiest cluster to say, but in America we assume it's "dada" and we praise the child or repeat "Dada, daddy, etc." In Israel "Dah" is short for "Todah", but even if the child say "Dada" it sounds like "Todah" and the child is praised for that word instead. The cutest girl in the class (I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but she's also the baby of the class so there's the justification) has the wide eyes and she is just about to walk. By the end of November, she will definitely be walking and standing on her own. There's one boy who is partially blind and fussy. There's 2 other boys in the class, but I don't know what's wrong with them. Most of the kids in the class have an astigmatism in their eyes and/or have a lazy eye.
My internship is basically the only thing I'm doing because after being out of my apartment for 12 hours, I don't feel like going out or doing anything. I also don't have weekends off (yet) so whenever I'm chilling with friends, I'm usually about to fall asleep. What I'm saying is don't expect any interesting posts or pictures for a few weeks. I think we have a seminar in a few weeks in Sderot and one in Ein Gedi so you can expect pictures then.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Reality Check
When you go to a country, you see the glorified sites. You may see people and their culture, but you don't actually know how their daily lives are affected by the politics, ecomony, religion, and geography. You can know the history and the people inside out, but until you hear the personal account in the place they actually were, you really don't know what life is like.
This week, Career-Israel took us to the Golan Heights. I have been here before. Twice. I know that it was during the Six Day War and Yom Kippur War in the 1960s and 1970s that Israel captured and then defended this territory. I know that this was the 3rd territory that She was fighting in the 60s. I know that Hezbollah is across the border in Lebanon. I know that war was fought. I know that people died. None of this felt as real as it did this week.
On Wednesday, we drove up to Misgav Am, a kibbutz on the ceasefire line between Israel and Lebanon. The guide there gave a brief history of the Six Day War as well as a personal history so that when we asked him questions, we would know where he was coming from. He is a 70 year old man originally from Ohio. He made Aliyah 50 years ago and served in the army as a paratrooper during the multiple wars that Israel was involved in. He is currently a farmer on a Kibbutz enjoying his warrior life. He talked about how in 2006 he was in the Kibbutz, trying to stay alive. How the missiles just missed the Kibbutz because Lebanon didn't know the exact location of the kibbutz and didn't want to undershoot for fear of hitting their own land. When we were finally allowed to ask questions, he prefaced that he has strong opinions and that if we wanted to argue that was for the bus, not for here. I actually agreed with most of what he had to say, unlike a lot of the program which goes to show how Right the people on the program are. In addition to Misgav Am, we went to a cemetery where the highest and best soldiers are buried. Right outside the cemetery walls, were 3 memorials for 3 fallen soldiers who had been in the North in 2006. These people became real to me not only after seeing their pictures, but also when the tour guide mentioned that she is best friend's with the cousin of the soldier that died.
On Thursday we went hiking through some old Syrian bunkers. The Israeli knew which bunkers were Syrian because there was a spy. Eli Cohen was born in Syria, but lived most of his childhood in Egypt hence able to pull off being Arab when necessary, as it was in his Israeli-CIA job. The Syrians, at this point, still had control of Golan and it was a hot, humid, and sticky place to set up base camps. Being the "generous" man that he is, Eli Cohen gave the Syrian army Eucalyptus trees so that they would be more comfortable. Now, Israel was able to tell where the Syrians were located so when it came to the Six Day War, Israel knew exactly where to bomb. The Golan heights was won is is as we know it today, Mines and all. During the Six Day War, Syria could see Israel coming so they threw mines everywhere hoping that if Israel captured the land, they at least wouldn't be able to use it. However, they never marked where they are and every so often, there will be a cow in the field that will suddenly blow up. It was obvious as hiked, why Golan was and is such optimal territory. After the hike, we drove to a look out of the Syrian-Israeli border where our tour guide gave us a short history of the Yom Kippur war. He told us about the "surprise" attack Syria planned and Israel had no way of contacting the reserves because there was no radio or tv waves on this day. At the site, there was a group of Israeli soldiers who were being lectured about the samething, but by someone who was actually there. We listened for a few moments, but because he was speaking Hebrew, it was difficult to understand him. After hearing the full story of the Yom Kippur War and then the tour guide pointing out that, there, a few feet in front of us was someone who fought through the whole experience into perspective.
Now that I've been here a month, I've had a chance to re-immerse myself into Israeli culture. I've spoken with Israelis about real issues. What you don't realize is that war is not in the forefront of the Israeli mind, but it's not in the back either. This trip showed the reality of what Israel is. I love that Tel Aviv is the most secular city in Israel and the Jerusalem is the most religious, but Golan is the reality of what Israel is. In America, war is so distant. Physically, it is across an ocean. Emotionally, not many of us know someone who is currently in the army. On average, I doubt that many Americans encounter soldiers. To us, war is something of the past, of my grandparents' generation. The fact that war is such a prominent subject in Israel doesn't deter me from Israel. In fact, it just makes my connection even stronger. Look at what this tiny country can do. Look at how small the army is, at the patriotism. Forgetting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, everyone here feels such pride and passion for their nationality and heritage.
Wednesday after the lecture at Misgav Am, half the group went to an Arab high school to speak with the students there. 100 Jews. 100 Arabs. We were given questions to ask each other so that we could keep the conversation going. Everyone had a different experience. The girls I talked to kept their answers relatively light, but when asked the question "do you believe in G-d?" one of the Jews said "maybe yes, maybe no. I don't know." They were in disbelief. They couldn't grasp the concept that G-d does not have an affect on every little thing we do. One of the 16 year olds said that G-d is everywhere and everything to her. After about 20 minutes, we were asked to switch groups. The exact wording was "...non-Israelis will move to the opposite side of the room." As the facilitator continued with directions, everyone began to pick up their belongings. By everyone, I mean both Jews and the Arabs. This was then clarified by saying "our visitors". That whole moment, though, was very interesting, especially since the next question was "do you know all the words to Hatikva?" These 11th and 12th graders were interesting to talk with. We didn't have to talk about the questions we were given so we talked about music, the village we were in, what they were doing after high school, etc.
The week in Golan was fun, but intense not only because of the whole subject of war, but also because it was time to say goodbye to my friends in Tel Aviv. Now that I'm in Jerusalem, I will not be able to see my closest friends from the program as often as I did. There's only 30 of us in Jerusalem and while I'm sure we'll all become good friends, we have all made our core group of friends who all happen to live in Tel Aviv.
Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/112163354927968040752/GolanHeights?authkey=Gv1sRgCLXMhK3poZj_nAE#
This week, Career-Israel took us to the Golan Heights. I have been here before. Twice. I know that it was during the Six Day War and Yom Kippur War in the 1960s and 1970s that Israel captured and then defended this territory. I know that this was the 3rd territory that She was fighting in the 60s. I know that Hezbollah is across the border in Lebanon. I know that war was fought. I know that people died. None of this felt as real as it did this week.
On Wednesday, we drove up to Misgav Am, a kibbutz on the ceasefire line between Israel and Lebanon. The guide there gave a brief history of the Six Day War as well as a personal history so that when we asked him questions, we would know where he was coming from. He is a 70 year old man originally from Ohio. He made Aliyah 50 years ago and served in the army as a paratrooper during the multiple wars that Israel was involved in. He is currently a farmer on a Kibbutz enjoying his warrior life. He talked about how in 2006 he was in the Kibbutz, trying to stay alive. How the missiles just missed the Kibbutz because Lebanon didn't know the exact location of the kibbutz and didn't want to undershoot for fear of hitting their own land. When we were finally allowed to ask questions, he prefaced that he has strong opinions and that if we wanted to argue that was for the bus, not for here. I actually agreed with most of what he had to say, unlike a lot of the program which goes to show how Right the people on the program are. In addition to Misgav Am, we went to a cemetery where the highest and best soldiers are buried. Right outside the cemetery walls, were 3 memorials for 3 fallen soldiers who had been in the North in 2006. These people became real to me not only after seeing their pictures, but also when the tour guide mentioned that she is best friend's with the cousin of the soldier that died.
On Thursday we went hiking through some old Syrian bunkers. The Israeli knew which bunkers were Syrian because there was a spy. Eli Cohen was born in Syria, but lived most of his childhood in Egypt hence able to pull off being Arab when necessary, as it was in his Israeli-CIA job. The Syrians, at this point, still had control of Golan and it was a hot, humid, and sticky place to set up base camps. Being the "generous" man that he is, Eli Cohen gave the Syrian army Eucalyptus trees so that they would be more comfortable. Now, Israel was able to tell where the Syrians were located so when it came to the Six Day War, Israel knew exactly where to bomb. The Golan heights was won is is as we know it today, Mines and all. During the Six Day War, Syria could see Israel coming so they threw mines everywhere hoping that if Israel captured the land, they at least wouldn't be able to use it. However, they never marked where they are and every so often, there will be a cow in the field that will suddenly blow up. It was obvious as hiked, why Golan was and is such optimal territory. After the hike, we drove to a look out of the Syrian-Israeli border where our tour guide gave us a short history of the Yom Kippur war. He told us about the "surprise" attack Syria planned and Israel had no way of contacting the reserves because there was no radio or tv waves on this day. At the site, there was a group of Israeli soldiers who were being lectured about the samething, but by someone who was actually there. We listened for a few moments, but because he was speaking Hebrew, it was difficult to understand him. After hearing the full story of the Yom Kippur War and then the tour guide pointing out that, there, a few feet in front of us was someone who fought through the whole experience into perspective.
Now that I've been here a month, I've had a chance to re-immerse myself into Israeli culture. I've spoken with Israelis about real issues. What you don't realize is that war is not in the forefront of the Israeli mind, but it's not in the back either. This trip showed the reality of what Israel is. I love that Tel Aviv is the most secular city in Israel and the Jerusalem is the most religious, but Golan is the reality of what Israel is. In America, war is so distant. Physically, it is across an ocean. Emotionally, not many of us know someone who is currently in the army. On average, I doubt that many Americans encounter soldiers. To us, war is something of the past, of my grandparents' generation. The fact that war is such a prominent subject in Israel doesn't deter me from Israel. In fact, it just makes my connection even stronger. Look at what this tiny country can do. Look at how small the army is, at the patriotism. Forgetting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, everyone here feels such pride and passion for their nationality and heritage.
Wednesday after the lecture at Misgav Am, half the group went to an Arab high school to speak with the students there. 100 Jews. 100 Arabs. We were given questions to ask each other so that we could keep the conversation going. Everyone had a different experience. The girls I talked to kept their answers relatively light, but when asked the question "do you believe in G-d?" one of the Jews said "maybe yes, maybe no. I don't know." They were in disbelief. They couldn't grasp the concept that G-d does not have an affect on every little thing we do. One of the 16 year olds said that G-d is everywhere and everything to her. After about 20 minutes, we were asked to switch groups. The exact wording was "...non-Israelis will move to the opposite side of the room." As the facilitator continued with directions, everyone began to pick up their belongings. By everyone, I mean both Jews and the Arabs. This was then clarified by saying "our visitors". That whole moment, though, was very interesting, especially since the next question was "do you know all the words to Hatikva?" These 11th and 12th graders were interesting to talk with. We didn't have to talk about the questions we were given so we talked about music, the village we were in, what they were doing after high school, etc.
The week in Golan was fun, but intense not only because of the whole subject of war, but also because it was time to say goodbye to my friends in Tel Aviv. Now that I'm in Jerusalem, I will not be able to see my closest friends from the program as often as I did. There's only 30 of us in Jerusalem and while I'm sure we'll all become good friends, we have all made our core group of friends who all happen to live in Tel Aviv.
Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/112163354927968040752/GolanHeights?authkey=Gv1sRgCLXMhK3poZj_nAE#
Friday, October 1, 2010
Only In Israel
Only in Israel do they have signs at the beach that say "No Swimming" and people swim anyway.
Only in Israel do the lifeguards announce their departure from the beach, saying that it is dangerous to swim at night without a life guard
Only in Israel do they end such an announcement with "Chag Sukkot Sameach, Shabbat Shalom, Shana Tova Oomitooka, Gmar Chatima Tova."
Because the holiday of Sukkot began last Wednesday night, we had no Ulpan until Sunday. Almost everything is shut down for the weekend, so what do we do? We somehow manage to spend 4 hours on the beach a day. I have no idea how the time goes by so quickly. Seriously, I'm pretty sure, the world goes faster or something. The past few days, I have been there for the sunset and it is absolutely gorgeous. The colors and opaqueness are different everyday, as is the sunset itself. In the US, the whole sky changes colors, but here, only where the is does the sky change. If I look up, the sky is blue, but if I look straight ahead, pinks and purples fill the sky. This week, we also have from Wednesday to Saturday off because of Simchat Torah. My roommate and I went to Ki Kar Rabin (Rabin Square). There was a concert and people dancing obviously having a lot of fun, but we only stayed for a little while because the musicians kept blowing a fuse.
On Sunday, the madrichim took us to Yafo again. Apparently there was a miscommunication between the Hebrew teachers and the madrichim so I went on the same exact tour as I did the week before. There were two benefits though. One was that we went a little before sunset and seeing Yafo at night is so pretty. The other benefit was that they fed us. For free. We went to "Doctor Shakshuka" for dinner where we were surrounded by bread, tahini and other dipping sauces, couscous with soupy stew, and of course shakshuka. Shakshuka is an Israeli dish with tomatoes as the main ingredient. Every version differs depending on how you like it, but no matter what, there are eggs on top of the tomato sauce. I actually made some last week and it came out delicious! Being overstuffed and with the bus not leaving for another hour, a bunch of us decided to walk back to our apartment complex. It was a nice night out and a quick walk back. For part of the way, we strolled along the beach and the other part we walked through the empty shuk. It was a little sketchy, but also kind of cool. When you go to the shuk it's a bustle of people haggling pushing each other out of the way. The smell of salmon and pomegranates fill the air. With the empty shuk, the smell of fish wafted through the air, but it was dead silent and filled with stray cats instead of religious older ladies.
My ulpan class is not just my program, but also a fine arts program called Betzalel. One of the people in my class was performing at a coffee shop on Tuesday and it also happened to be his birthday. He plays piano so he played a few songs in Hebrew and a few in French (he's from Paris) and then a bunch in English. Nothing brings people together like belting out the Beatles and Michael Jackson.
Recently in the afternoons, a group of us have been playing soccer in the park behind our apartment complex. There is been one Israeli boy who has been hanging around as we play so we invited him in. Yesterday, he was on my team and as we sat out (there were 3 teams) I had a real conversation in Hebrew. Woohoo. Never mind that it wasn't that long, but my Hebrew skills are definitely improving.
Also, and hopefully this works, here are pictures. I know there are some people you know, but I didn't know how to delete them.
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=112163354927968040752&target=ALBUM&id=5522652659463816321&locked=true&authkey=Gv1sRgCKDp8YGUje6nnAE&feat=email
Only in Israel do the lifeguards announce their departure from the beach, saying that it is dangerous to swim at night without a life guard
Only in Israel do they end such an announcement with "Chag Sukkot Sameach, Shabbat Shalom, Shana Tova Oomitooka, Gmar Chatima Tova."
Because the holiday of Sukkot began last Wednesday night, we had no Ulpan until Sunday. Almost everything is shut down for the weekend, so what do we do? We somehow manage to spend 4 hours on the beach a day. I have no idea how the time goes by so quickly. Seriously, I'm pretty sure, the world goes faster or something. The past few days, I have been there for the sunset and it is absolutely gorgeous. The colors and opaqueness are different everyday, as is the sunset itself. In the US, the whole sky changes colors, but here, only where the is does the sky change. If I look up, the sky is blue, but if I look straight ahead, pinks and purples fill the sky. This week, we also have from Wednesday to Saturday off because of Simchat Torah. My roommate and I went to Ki Kar Rabin (Rabin Square). There was a concert and people dancing obviously having a lot of fun, but we only stayed for a little while because the musicians kept blowing a fuse.
On Sunday, the madrichim took us to Yafo again. Apparently there was a miscommunication between the Hebrew teachers and the madrichim so I went on the same exact tour as I did the week before. There were two benefits though. One was that we went a little before sunset and seeing Yafo at night is so pretty. The other benefit was that they fed us. For free. We went to "Doctor Shakshuka" for dinner where we were surrounded by bread, tahini and other dipping sauces, couscous with soupy stew, and of course shakshuka. Shakshuka is an Israeli dish with tomatoes as the main ingredient. Every version differs depending on how you like it, but no matter what, there are eggs on top of the tomato sauce. I actually made some last week and it came out delicious! Being overstuffed and with the bus not leaving for another hour, a bunch of us decided to walk back to our apartment complex. It was a nice night out and a quick walk back. For part of the way, we strolled along the beach and the other part we walked through the empty shuk. It was a little sketchy, but also kind of cool. When you go to the shuk it's a bustle of people haggling pushing each other out of the way. The smell of salmon and pomegranates fill the air. With the empty shuk, the smell of fish wafted through the air, but it was dead silent and filled with stray cats instead of religious older ladies.
My ulpan class is not just my program, but also a fine arts program called Betzalel. One of the people in my class was performing at a coffee shop on Tuesday and it also happened to be his birthday. He plays piano so he played a few songs in Hebrew and a few in French (he's from Paris) and then a bunch in English. Nothing brings people together like belting out the Beatles and Michael Jackson.
Recently in the afternoons, a group of us have been playing soccer in the park behind our apartment complex. There is been one Israeli boy who has been hanging around as we play so we invited him in. Yesterday, he was on my team and as we sat out (there were 3 teams) I had a real conversation in Hebrew. Woohoo. Never mind that it wasn't that long, but my Hebrew skills are definitely improving.
Also, and hopefully this works, here are pictures. I know there are some people you know, but I didn't know how to delete them.
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=112163354927968040752&target=ALBUM&id=5522652659463816321&locked=true&authkey=Gv1sRgCKDp8YGUje6nnAE&feat=email
Monday, September 20, 2010
Call Me Crazy
But, Yom Kippur is actually one of my favorite holidays. After fasting, I feel so rejuvenated and re-energized and ready to start the new year. I do, of course, get bored in services, but some of the songs are really pretty and filled with emotion. There is such contrasts with the prayers. Some are upbeat and say "G-d, you are awesome and almighty" whereas others are more downtrodden, saying "Here are the sins we have committed and we are sorry" but either way both are beautiful and convey the exact content and sounds that should come with a Day of Atonment.
Here in Tel Aviv, one of the most secular cities in Israel, everything shuts down. There were no cars and no stores opened. When I wake up on a normal day, I hear children screaming, an ambulance whirring, and traffic honking. Yesterday when I woke up, I heard nothing. There was absolute silence. Well, except for the fire alarm that went off a few minutes after I woke up. I went to Kol Nidre, Shacharit, and Neillah at the same synagogue I went to on Rosh Hashannah. After Kol Nidre, as we were walking back, everyone emerged from their synagogue and meandered towards the main intersection, Melch George and Dizengoff. A sea of white took over the intersection and sang songs. Children and adults alike rode their bicycles through the streets and surprisingly, the children wore helmets. Israeli parents technically don't have the best parenting skills and judgement so this was surprising to see. It was kind of like Christmas, but we were apart of it. Imagine Boston shutting down for the day. No cars, no opened stores. Just people gathering together as people to mingle. It brings a peaceful mindset and a connection of community.
Pre-fast was a rush of showering and cooking food before services. Being stupid, I had agreed to go to the beach with some friends around 3 hoping to back around 4, but I forgot to factor in walking time and rinsing off time so by the time I got back to my apartment, I had half an hour before I was meeting my roommate. (She was at her grandmother's, who lives in Tel Aviv) Kol Nidre was quick and I still have no idea why services at home are over two hours. Afterwards, I got back and chilled with some friends and ironically discussed the topic of starvation. The topic in question was "do people die of starvation in America?" Because I am from Democratic Massachusetts and the person I was discussing this with is from Kansas, we had different views. And I learned, this is not the only thing we disagree on, as we had another friendly disagreement about stereotypes the next day. (I feel so intellectual with these real topics!) The rest of my Yom Kippur consisted of Shacharit services, a nap, and Afternoon Services/Neillah. During Mincha, afternoon services, the Book of Jonah is read. Sadly, I have only heard it read on Yom Kippur maybe four times in my life, yesterday being the fourth. However, unlike the last few times, I was into the story and could sort of understand the story by reading the Hebrew, instead of the English. When Neillah began, I was surprised at the number of people that showed up. People were outside, listening through the windows as the sounds of the shofar swept through Rachov Borgachov.
For break-fast, a bunch of us went out for dinner at a place creatively names "Pizza." It is supposedly the best pizza place in Tel Aviv, but it was hard to judge because after 26 hours of no eating, almost anything is delicious. Although, honestly, I wasn't that hungry the whole fast, just wicked thirsty. After dinner, we went to the beach to chill and hang out. The beach has become more than just a place to swim. Everyone hangs out there and someone from the program is always there, day or night. The beach has become like a lounge in our little bubble between Rachov Allenby and Rachov Dizengoff.
For ulpan on Sunday, we went to Yafo for Hebrew class. I would tell you about it, but the tour was in Hebrew and I looked at the scenery instead of paying attention. All I can tell you is that there's a wishing bridge where if you stand at your Astrological sign and wave your hands towards the sea (not the ocean. Israelis get mad when you say "ocean" because even though it's just as salty, it's a sea), and make a wish, your wish will come true. Other than that, all I have are the pictures.
Here in Tel Aviv, one of the most secular cities in Israel, everything shuts down. There were no cars and no stores opened. When I wake up on a normal day, I hear children screaming, an ambulance whirring, and traffic honking. Yesterday when I woke up, I heard nothing. There was absolute silence. Well, except for the fire alarm that went off a few minutes after I woke up. I went to Kol Nidre, Shacharit, and Neillah at the same synagogue I went to on Rosh Hashannah. After Kol Nidre, as we were walking back, everyone emerged from their synagogue and meandered towards the main intersection, Melch George and Dizengoff. A sea of white took over the intersection and sang songs. Children and adults alike rode their bicycles through the streets and surprisingly, the children wore helmets. Israeli parents technically don't have the best parenting skills and judgement so this was surprising to see. It was kind of like Christmas, but we were apart of it. Imagine Boston shutting down for the day. No cars, no opened stores. Just people gathering together as people to mingle. It brings a peaceful mindset and a connection of community.
Pre-fast was a rush of showering and cooking food before services. Being stupid, I had agreed to go to the beach with some friends around 3 hoping to back around 4, but I forgot to factor in walking time and rinsing off time so by the time I got back to my apartment, I had half an hour before I was meeting my roommate. (She was at her grandmother's, who lives in Tel Aviv) Kol Nidre was quick and I still have no idea why services at home are over two hours. Afterwards, I got back and chilled with some friends and ironically discussed the topic of starvation. The topic in question was "do people die of starvation in America?" Because I am from Democratic Massachusetts and the person I was discussing this with is from Kansas, we had different views. And I learned, this is not the only thing we disagree on, as we had another friendly disagreement about stereotypes the next day. (I feel so intellectual with these real topics!) The rest of my Yom Kippur consisted of Shacharit services, a nap, and Afternoon Services/Neillah. During Mincha, afternoon services, the Book of Jonah is read. Sadly, I have only heard it read on Yom Kippur maybe four times in my life, yesterday being the fourth. However, unlike the last few times, I was into the story and could sort of understand the story by reading the Hebrew, instead of the English. When Neillah began, I was surprised at the number of people that showed up. People were outside, listening through the windows as the sounds of the shofar swept through Rachov Borgachov.
For break-fast, a bunch of us went out for dinner at a place creatively names "Pizza." It is supposedly the best pizza place in Tel Aviv, but it was hard to judge because after 26 hours of no eating, almost anything is delicious. Although, honestly, I wasn't that hungry the whole fast, just wicked thirsty. After dinner, we went to the beach to chill and hang out. The beach has become more than just a place to swim. Everyone hangs out there and someone from the program is always there, day or night. The beach has become like a lounge in our little bubble between Rachov Allenby and Rachov Dizengoff.
For ulpan on Sunday, we went to Yafo for Hebrew class. I would tell you about it, but the tour was in Hebrew and I looked at the scenery instead of paying attention. All I can tell you is that there's a wishing bridge where if you stand at your Astrological sign and wave your hands towards the sea (not the ocean. Israelis get mad when you say "ocean" because even though it's just as salty, it's a sea), and make a wish, your wish will come true. Other than that, all I have are the pictures.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Chof Hashannah
Before I talk about my Rosh Hashannah, I want to first talk about one of my favorite prayers. Aveinu Malkeinu, which means "my father, my king" is sung in a minor key. The tune is beautiful and I think that it captures the true spirit of both Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur, which is on Saturday. The translation of the whole chorus is: Hear our Voice, Lord our G-d, pity and be compassionate to us, and accept--with compassion and favor--our prayer. I know it sounds cheesy and very religious, but it also captures exactly how I feel on these holidays.
Unlike the last time I was in Israel, I went to services on Rosh Hashannah. Oh, but don't worry. The awkward experiences were still present.
My friend and I called some host families and invited ourselves over for dinner. Both were in the same area, but one family was definitely more welcoming than the other. Wednesday night, we arrived at the Family's apartment only to discover that no one was dressed. We were early, but not so much so that there was reason for the father to be strutting around in his boxers. The oldest daughter, around 4, was combing her hair in her underwear and her 1 year old sister was waddling in just a diaper. The kids I can at least understand. It's hot, they just bathed, there was some kind of tantrum. But neither the mother nor the father were dressed and my friend and I waited over half an hour for them. When they were finally ready, we crossed the street to the shul. Ten minutes later, services were over. Fastest Erev Rosh Hashannah Service ever. We could have gotten there late, but I don't really know because the women were put in a separate room where you couldn't see or hear anything. Literally. We faced a wall. At dinner, we blessed and ate all the things you are supposed to eat. That's fine, but it just took forever. Like over an hour to bless the apples, honey, dates, pomegranate seeds, 2 types of latkes, sweetened beans, carrots, and the head of a fish. Once dinner actually began, there was total silence. Except for the 1 year old screaming "abba, abba!" The father knew no English and the mother stopped talking to us at a certain point despite my Hebrew speaking skills and my friend's ability to understand Hebrew. By the end of the evening, the mother whispered to the father that we should do After-meal blessings so that we could leave. My friend and I were happy to leave these quirky parents.
Shacharit, morning services, probably began around 9, but my friends and I arrived at the conservative shul well after 10. And we were not even close to being the last ones. Some couples arrived after the Haftarah. It was a one room synagogue obviously built as a place of learning. There are benches along the perimeter with tables partnering up with the wooden seats. Bookshelves stuffed with the Tanach, prayer books, and commentary sat towards the door. Oh yea, this as also an American-based synagogue. Israelis are either very religous or not at all so the in-betweens are usually Americans or other Jews who have made Aliyah. Because it was an American-based synagogue, there was English translation in the prayer books and the cantor translated some of what he was saying into English. Services ended a little after one and we walked back, ate a quick lunch, and went to the chof (beach).
In my opinion, there is nothing halachically wrong (kosher) about going to the beach on Rosh Hashannah. I didn't go swimming because I felt that that wasn't appropriate, but I saw nothing wrong with going to the beach on Rosh Hashannah. Although it was the first cooler day in a week, it was still pretty hot out so the beach breeze felt nice.
For dinner, the girls the I went with and I ended up in the same neighborhood as the night before. This time, though, the family was much more welcoming. The mother was 35 with 5 kids ranging in age from 2 to 9 and those kids were adorable. Food-wise, dinner was the same, except that we had dessert at the end. The Mother seemed genuinely interested in getting to know the 6 strangers she brought into her house. The Father still didn't say much, but he spoke to us a little.
For the second day of Rosh Hashannah, I went back to the shul alone. The people I went with the day before wanted to sleep. There were less people there and less children. If I understood the rabbi correctly, then I think he talked about the history of the Shofar. Of course, there were a few words (ok, more than a few) that I didn't understand so he could have been saying something else about the Shofar.
It was a very melodic (and English-translated) service so I will be heading back there for the fast on Saturday.
Unlike the last time I was in Israel, I went to services on Rosh Hashannah. Oh, but don't worry. The awkward experiences were still present.
My friend and I called some host families and invited ourselves over for dinner. Both were in the same area, but one family was definitely more welcoming than the other. Wednesday night, we arrived at the Family's apartment only to discover that no one was dressed. We were early, but not so much so that there was reason for the father to be strutting around in his boxers. The oldest daughter, around 4, was combing her hair in her underwear and her 1 year old sister was waddling in just a diaper. The kids I can at least understand. It's hot, they just bathed, there was some kind of tantrum. But neither the mother nor the father were dressed and my friend and I waited over half an hour for them. When they were finally ready, we crossed the street to the shul. Ten minutes later, services were over. Fastest Erev Rosh Hashannah Service ever. We could have gotten there late, but I don't really know because the women were put in a separate room where you couldn't see or hear anything. Literally. We faced a wall. At dinner, we blessed and ate all the things you are supposed to eat. That's fine, but it just took forever. Like over an hour to bless the apples, honey, dates, pomegranate seeds, 2 types of latkes, sweetened beans, carrots, and the head of a fish. Once dinner actually began, there was total silence. Except for the 1 year old screaming "abba, abba!" The father knew no English and the mother stopped talking to us at a certain point despite my Hebrew speaking skills and my friend's ability to understand Hebrew. By the end of the evening, the mother whispered to the father that we should do After-meal blessings so that we could leave. My friend and I were happy to leave these quirky parents.
Shacharit, morning services, probably began around 9, but my friends and I arrived at the conservative shul well after 10. And we were not even close to being the last ones. Some couples arrived after the Haftarah. It was a one room synagogue obviously built as a place of learning. There are benches along the perimeter with tables partnering up with the wooden seats. Bookshelves stuffed with the Tanach, prayer books, and commentary sat towards the door. Oh yea, this as also an American-based synagogue. Israelis are either very religous or not at all so the in-betweens are usually Americans or other Jews who have made Aliyah. Because it was an American-based synagogue, there was English translation in the prayer books and the cantor translated some of what he was saying into English. Services ended a little after one and we walked back, ate a quick lunch, and went to the chof (beach).
In my opinion, there is nothing halachically wrong (kosher) about going to the beach on Rosh Hashannah. I didn't go swimming because I felt that that wasn't appropriate, but I saw nothing wrong with going to the beach on Rosh Hashannah. Although it was the first cooler day in a week, it was still pretty hot out so the beach breeze felt nice.
For dinner, the girls the I went with and I ended up in the same neighborhood as the night before. This time, though, the family was much more welcoming. The mother was 35 with 5 kids ranging in age from 2 to 9 and those kids were adorable. Food-wise, dinner was the same, except that we had dessert at the end. The Mother seemed genuinely interested in getting to know the 6 strangers she brought into her house. The Father still didn't say much, but he spoke to us a little.
For the second day of Rosh Hashannah, I went back to the shul alone. The people I went with the day before wanted to sleep. There were less people there and less children. If I understood the rabbi correctly, then I think he talked about the history of the Shofar. Of course, there were a few words (ok, more than a few) that I didn't understand so he could have been saying something else about the Shofar.
It was a very melodic (and English-translated) service so I will be heading back there for the fast on Saturday.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Jerusalem to Tel Aviv
I had my interview for my internship: working with seeing-impaired children. But, for all I know, I could be working at some illegal underground operation. Besides the fact that it took me 15 minutes to find the office, my boss-to-be spoke very little English so she decided that it would be a good idea to conduct the interview in Hebrew. It's not that I couldn't understand her, but I would like to know exactly what I'm getting into, not just bits and pieces. She showed me around the school I will be working at and the kids are adorable and the staff seems nice. My boss said that in addition to helping with the babies, I will also be helping with the physical, occupational, and speech therapies. I am excited for that since it may involve a final decision in my career choice.
I somehow found my way out of the building and into a taxi where I was driven back to the hostel in Jerusalem to wait on the bus for an hour. We were supposed to go to the Jerusalem Mall, but we were cornered in by two very small white cars. My Madricha (counselor), who has a great Australian accent, eventually called the police to come tow the car, "but that could be in three weeks for all I know". We finally got moving, but our time at the mall was shortened before our tour of the Fence. Now, I'm sure the tour guide was a great guy, but...A) He spoke monotonously B) Had no accent to make fun of like the other tour guides we have had C) talked as if he was gonna die at any moment and D) Called settlements neighborhoods, which they are, but he refused to acknowledge that they were also settlements. This tour was given on the bus and there was A/C, we hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before because the tour of the Kotel Tunnels we took the night before didn't end until almost 1 am and we had to be up at 7 am. So, a lot of people fell asleep as we reached Gilo, The 8 Meter wall, and the best view of the Old City and the Dome of the Rock.
We then continued onward towards Tel Aviv to our new home, Beit Leni, where we would begin three weeks of Ulpan. We had taken a placement test a few days before, but I am convinced they just put names in a hat and placed us randomly. There are 6 levels and both my good friend and I were placed in level 4. She moved down a level and I moved up only to find out that that level was still learning past tense, which I have learned only a million times so I am currently in the highest Hebrew level. Woohoo! Go me.
My room at Beit Leni is temporary housing, luckily, because although it's spacious, there's nowhere to put anything, if that makes sense. I changed the set-up of my side so that I could at least have a head board, but my roommate's bed in basically in the middle of the room. We have a "kitchen", but no oven and the water here isn't the best. I'm not talking about taste, I'm talking about stream. I was in the middle of taking a shower (a cold one because the hot water button, called a Dood, wasn't working) and the water decided to stop working. So I basically had to somehow wash my hair without water. The water came back 2 minutes later and this happened for the rest of my shower. Needless to say, it was not fun.
The Madrichim planned events for us this week so we wouldn't be bored at night, which is really nice of them, but sometimes it's nice to relax after sitting in ulpan for 5 hours. A teacher came to talk about Rosh Hashannah (RH) through various texts. And, not that I'm bragging or anything, but we spent a majority of the time on my comment. There were passages from Jewish texts. One said something like, on RH you stand before G-d in order to be judged. It is a day of sorrow and seriousness while in contrast, the other text said that RH was a joyous occasion full of dancing and eating. So we discussed the difference and like all conclusions when it comes to Jewish texts, we found none. The Madrichim also got us into a dance club that is apparently relatively new in Tel Aviv. That was fun because, while I've briefly met most of the people on the program, it was nice to mingle and actually remember people's names. The only annoying thing about the club was the they had flashing lights and it felt like I was having a seizure. On the upside, though, there was an outside where you could have conversations in a normal tone.
I will post my Rosh Hashannah in the next post, but I didn't want to make this too long. So there's your update!
I somehow found my way out of the building and into a taxi where I was driven back to the hostel in Jerusalem to wait on the bus for an hour. We were supposed to go to the Jerusalem Mall, but we were cornered in by two very small white cars. My Madricha (counselor), who has a great Australian accent, eventually called the police to come tow the car, "but that could be in three weeks for all I know". We finally got moving, but our time at the mall was shortened before our tour of the Fence. Now, I'm sure the tour guide was a great guy, but...A) He spoke monotonously B) Had no accent to make fun of like the other tour guides we have had C) talked as if he was gonna die at any moment and D) Called settlements neighborhoods, which they are, but he refused to acknowledge that they were also settlements. This tour was given on the bus and there was A/C, we hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before because the tour of the Kotel Tunnels we took the night before didn't end until almost 1 am and we had to be up at 7 am. So, a lot of people fell asleep as we reached Gilo, The 8 Meter wall, and the best view of the Old City and the Dome of the Rock.
We then continued onward towards Tel Aviv to our new home, Beit Leni, where we would begin three weeks of Ulpan. We had taken a placement test a few days before, but I am convinced they just put names in a hat and placed us randomly. There are 6 levels and both my good friend and I were placed in level 4. She moved down a level and I moved up only to find out that that level was still learning past tense, which I have learned only a million times so I am currently in the highest Hebrew level. Woohoo! Go me.
My room at Beit Leni is temporary housing, luckily, because although it's spacious, there's nowhere to put anything, if that makes sense. I changed the set-up of my side so that I could at least have a head board, but my roommate's bed in basically in the middle of the room. We have a "kitchen", but no oven and the water here isn't the best. I'm not talking about taste, I'm talking about stream. I was in the middle of taking a shower (a cold one because the hot water button, called a Dood, wasn't working) and the water decided to stop working. So I basically had to somehow wash my hair without water. The water came back 2 minutes later and this happened for the rest of my shower. Needless to say, it was not fun.
The Madrichim planned events for us this week so we wouldn't be bored at night, which is really nice of them, but sometimes it's nice to relax after sitting in ulpan for 5 hours. A teacher came to talk about Rosh Hashannah (RH) through various texts. And, not that I'm bragging or anything, but we spent a majority of the time on my comment. There were passages from Jewish texts. One said something like, on RH you stand before G-d in order to be judged. It is a day of sorrow and seriousness while in contrast, the other text said that RH was a joyous occasion full of dancing and eating. So we discussed the difference and like all conclusions when it comes to Jewish texts, we found none. The Madrichim also got us into a dance club that is apparently relatively new in Tel Aviv. That was fun because, while I've briefly met most of the people on the program, it was nice to mingle and actually remember people's names. The only annoying thing about the club was the they had flashing lights and it felt like I was having a seizure. On the upside, though, there was an outside where you could have conversations in a normal tone.
I will post my Rosh Hashannah in the next post, but I didn't want to make this too long. So there's your update!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Round 2
I am in Israel! After two years of wanting to come back, I have finally made it. But it doesn't seem real. I feel like I'm in a dream and that I'll either wake up soon or go home in a few days. It's amazing being back here. I kind of know the cities, kind of know the language, and definitely know the culture. I sort of know where I am and I am excited to being a new adventure of exploration in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.
I got to Israel on Monday and stayed with my friend's cousin. I walked around the Mamilla Mall, which is right near the Old City, near the Zion Gate. It was cool that I was able to navigate where I was because I had been to the Old City many times before. I went to a falafel place for dinner only to find out that they had run out of falafel, pita, and shwarma. I wasn't a happy camper, but no worries because the next day for breakfast, we made shakshuka and we ate it with hummus and for lunch we went to a hummus place. After lunch, I went to the youth hostel to begin the program, Career Israel, where I will be doing an internship. At the hostel, I saw Mara, who used to work at Umass and we caught up while I filled out the necessary forms. Between awkward conversation, dinner, and "get-to-know-you" activities (not ice breakers), I met a bunch of people who seem friendly. I told the group of people I was hanging out with that it was my birthday so after all the mandatory activities, we went out to Ben Yehuda street.
The past two days, we've been touring Jerusalem. The tours have been ok. It's hard to pay attention that long when you're hot, sweaty, thirst, hungry, and in the hot sun. We went to David's Tomb and the place where the Last Supper was held. I had been there before so there was no new information, but after a break of ice coffee (which is actually a cappuccino or a freddo) and a walk through the Arab quarter, we ended up at the Holy Sepulchre (and yes, I had to look up how to spell that). That is the place where Jesus was buried before he was resurrected. Also, the center of the world is supposedly there. So of course I had to "feel the energy" of the center. For dinner that night, we drove to Ein Kerem, which is somewhere in the mountains and it was beautiful, especially since we went at sunset. At the restaurant we were at, we ate Israeli-Indian food. I'm still unsure of what that is. There was 8 Israeli salads with fried potatoes and meat. It was a delicious "festive" dinner, as the Madrichim described.
Today, after our Hebrew Placement test (Shmuel would be proud), we toured Nachlaot, which is a 36+ neighborhoods ranging from extreme orthodox to chabad to secular yeminites. The buildings were very fresh, but they too ranged from old to new. The tour guide got yelled at by an Orthodox lady because we were not dressed appropriately (which was true) and we were on private property (not true). Either way we left and he explained that for every person who is not welcoming, there is one who is and pointed to an apartment explaining that the guy used to be a Floridian surfer turned religious and is happy to invite people in for Shabbat. And speaking, of Shabbat, Jerusalem is about to shut down and so I must get ready.
I got to Israel on Monday and stayed with my friend's cousin. I walked around the Mamilla Mall, which is right near the Old City, near the Zion Gate. It was cool that I was able to navigate where I was because I had been to the Old City many times before. I went to a falafel place for dinner only to find out that they had run out of falafel, pita, and shwarma. I wasn't a happy camper, but no worries because the next day for breakfast, we made shakshuka and we ate it with hummus and for lunch we went to a hummus place. After lunch, I went to the youth hostel to begin the program, Career Israel, where I will be doing an internship. At the hostel, I saw Mara, who used to work at Umass and we caught up while I filled out the necessary forms. Between awkward conversation, dinner, and "get-to-know-you" activities (not ice breakers), I met a bunch of people who seem friendly. I told the group of people I was hanging out with that it was my birthday so after all the mandatory activities, we went out to Ben Yehuda street.
The past two days, we've been touring Jerusalem. The tours have been ok. It's hard to pay attention that long when you're hot, sweaty, thirst, hungry, and in the hot sun. We went to David's Tomb and the place where the Last Supper was held. I had been there before so there was no new information, but after a break of ice coffee (which is actually a cappuccino or a freddo) and a walk through the Arab quarter, we ended up at the Holy Sepulchre (and yes, I had to look up how to spell that). That is the place where Jesus was buried before he was resurrected. Also, the center of the world is supposedly there. So of course I had to "feel the energy" of the center. For dinner that night, we drove to Ein Kerem, which is somewhere in the mountains and it was beautiful, especially since we went at sunset. At the restaurant we were at, we ate Israeli-Indian food. I'm still unsure of what that is. There was 8 Israeli salads with fried potatoes and meat. It was a delicious "festive" dinner, as the Madrichim described.
Today, after our Hebrew Placement test (Shmuel would be proud), we toured Nachlaot, which is a 36+ neighborhoods ranging from extreme orthodox to chabad to secular yeminites. The buildings were very fresh, but they too ranged from old to new. The tour guide got yelled at by an Orthodox lady because we were not dressed appropriately (which was true) and we were on private property (not true). Either way we left and he explained that for every person who is not welcoming, there is one who is and pointed to an apartment explaining that the guy used to be a Floridian surfer turned religious and is happy to invite people in for Shabbat. And speaking, of Shabbat, Jerusalem is about to shut down and so I must get ready.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
NYC = J'lem?
This past weekend, I traveled to New York for a friend's birthday party. She lives in a mostly Jewish part of New York. Both on Friday during the day and at night, I saw people with yarmulkes and tzitzit haning out from their shirts. These were not the ultra-orthodox, they were simply Jews heading to services to welcome the Sabbath. For dinner that night, my friend made falafel and pita. While they tasted good, none of which were as delicious as the cheap off-the-street delicacy.
As Saturday arrived, we walked through much of Manhattan and I spied a community of Jews. They were not walking together and they didn't know eachother, but when one Jew passed another, there was a slight nod between them. An acknowledgement. I also heard Hebrew and understood bits and pieces. I would turn around and glance at the couple behind me thinking, I know what you're saying. You are an Israeli and I am an American, but your Hebrew is the bond between the two of us.
Also while in NYC, I heard ambulances whirring and as they passed me I could see the glittering gold Hebrew letters. We passed synagogues whose names were written only in Hebrew. We passed restaurants and food stands where a certified kosher poster was planted on the window or register.
Finally, on Sunday, there was an Israel Parade. I didn't go because I had go back home, but I would have gone had I known about it sooner.
I felt as if I was in Jerusalem for just a moment. There was no Old City, no Ben Yehuda Street, and no Zuni's, but there was a bustling population of Jews getting ready for Shabbat. There was a sense of community and pride among these people, a unity that will never be broken. I could suddenly feel an emptiness. I was not in Israel and I will not be for at least another year. While people say they fell in love with the country they studied abroad, they don't fully understand the feeling I have unless it is a country of their heritage or some other meaningful relation. It's easy to fall in love with exoticism, but it's hard to feel as if you belong there and as if you could stay there forever joining the foreign community.
I feel I belong in Israel because it is the Holy Land of the Jews. The first time I landed in Israel, when I went on Birthright, I felt that sense of wholeness. Israel has more meaning for me than any other country other than the United States. I belong in Israel because I feel comfortable with the whole culture. I feel comfortable speaking, acting, dressing the way an Israeli does. I severely yearn for the Holyland once more
As Saturday arrived, we walked through much of Manhattan and I spied a community of Jews. They were not walking together and they didn't know eachother, but when one Jew passed another, there was a slight nod between them. An acknowledgement. I also heard Hebrew and understood bits and pieces. I would turn around and glance at the couple behind me thinking, I know what you're saying. You are an Israeli and I am an American, but your Hebrew is the bond between the two of us.
Also while in NYC, I heard ambulances whirring and as they passed me I could see the glittering gold Hebrew letters. We passed synagogues whose names were written only in Hebrew. We passed restaurants and food stands where a certified kosher poster was planted on the window or register.
Finally, on Sunday, there was an Israel Parade. I didn't go because I had go back home, but I would have gone had I known about it sooner.
I felt as if I was in Jerusalem for just a moment. There was no Old City, no Ben Yehuda Street, and no Zuni's, but there was a bustling population of Jews getting ready for Shabbat. There was a sense of community and pride among these people, a unity that will never be broken. I could suddenly feel an emptiness. I was not in Israel and I will not be for at least another year. While people say they fell in love with the country they studied abroad, they don't fully understand the feeling I have unless it is a country of their heritage or some other meaningful relation. It's easy to fall in love with exoticism, but it's hard to feel as if you belong there and as if you could stay there forever joining the foreign community.
I feel I belong in Israel because it is the Holy Land of the Jews. The first time I landed in Israel, when I went on Birthright, I felt that sense of wholeness. Israel has more meaning for me than any other country other than the United States. I belong in Israel because I feel comfortable with the whole culture. I feel comfortable speaking, acting, dressing the way an Israeli does. I severely yearn for the Holyland once more
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