I have spent hours trying to figure out why, exactly, I love Israel. But it's complicated. There's no specific things. How do I explain the connection I feel with the strangers around me? How do I explain the familial ties? How do I explain the "Jewish Mothers" that pass by me everyday? How do I explain the feeling of Jerusalem versus the feeling of Tel Aviv? The feeling of The Negev and Golan versus the feeling of Eilat and Haifa?
How do I explain my love for the elements in and of Israel? Why do I love Israel so much? It's because of the people and the wildlife. The culture and the attitude. The language and the gestures. The tension and the love. I love its desert life and city life. Its beaches and its high rises. Its holy places and its clubs. Its sites and its views. I love the buses and the taxis. The drivers and the roads. The roundabouts and the pedestrians. The food and the drinks. The alleyways and vast openness of the ocean. I love the noise of the shuk and the mall and the serenity of the sunsets and the stars. I love the battle between the religious and the secular. I love The hole-in-the-wall place that has the best pita/hummus/ juice/Malawach/ice cream/drinks. The chain restaurants that are just ok. The pushing and shoving. The Jewish Mothers. The timeless schedule. The promptness of the start of Shabbat.
My "Only in Israel" stories help elaborate on why I love this country, but still there is more.
When I wake up in the morning, I feel Israel. It helps that I when I walk to the bus stop, I can see the Dome of the Rock. But even when I was in Tel Aviv, I could feel the hustle and bustle of the city life that is Israel. I can feel the embrace of Israel and the warmth (literally and figuratively) of the country. Walking down the street on any given day, I am likely to bump into someone I know that's not from the program. The man at the juice stand insists I try a different juice than the one I want. The bus driver speaks Hebrew with no accent, but displays his Canadian flag proudly. The beggars on the street ask for more money even after they are given 2 shekels. I don't need to wait in line to get onto the bus, I can just push my way through the stream and be part of the culture.
There are also negatives that I love about Israel. Not knowing the language is the most frustrating thing, but at the end of the day I am always proud of myself for one Hebrew encounter I had. The siren drills that happen and the soldiers on the street are not scary. They are a part of life. The only time I felt afraid was when I was in Sderot, but even then I knew the program would keep us safe. They told us exactly what to do in case of an emergency, but they also said that nothing would happen. Whether or not that was a lie it calmed my fears as well as anyone else who was freaking out.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Secrets of Israel
When a tourist comes to Israel, they do not see the individuality of the country. They see only the face of Israel and not the heart. When they come to Jerusalem, they head straight to the Kotel, the Western Wall. In Tiberias, it's the Kineret. In Haifa, the Bahaii Gardens are the main attraction. Tel Aviv attracts beach goers and Beer Sheva, the hikers. While these sites are necessary to visit, it is also important to realize the uniqueness of the country. Israel is more than just tourist sites and "The Jewish State." The first time I visited Jerusalem (both on Birthright and on Career-Israel), the tour guide told a story that until recently I did not completely understand. That is to say, I comprehended the idea, but never put it into practice for more than a few seconds.
A tour group had stopped in front of an important site. The tour guide said them, "see the man on the bench? To his left you will see battlefield on which many men died. On his right you will see the graveyard of those men. Above his head you see a great maple tree. This tree was planted in honor of the men and the plaques that begin starting at his feet were put down to commemorate those men." The man thought to himself. "Maybe someday, the tourguide will say 'You see the tree that grows maple leaves and the battlefield where men died? The graveyard and the plaques? Those aren't important. You see the man on the bench? He is what keeps this city alive."
The point of the story is, as a tourist, to stop what you're doing and look around. Not at the sites, but at the people because it is the citizens of the town that continue to keep the sites as they are. They are the true heart. While I try to absorb the "real" city of where I am, you can't really know how that person lives until you talk to them. I may stereotype the yeshiva boys walking on Yafo Street as boys who sit and study Torah all day, but then when you see a team of them playing soccer and high-fiveing one another, that's the real Jerusalem. The cafes on the beach may be expensive, but seeing families park their blankets on the sand every Shabbat and friends relaxing in the water, that is the heart of Israel.
If I mention "Israel" to you, you will most likely imagine an image of the Kotel and Jerusalem stone. But what about the neighborhoods of Israel? The ones that aren't tourist attraction? The ones where people work day-in and day-out and live in a home. The small towns of Israel also make up the character of the State, not just the famous attractions. The small town of Yavneh is composed of a generation of fighter pilots. They settled in this town because it was an open space for the planes. The random sites on the side of the highway are also important to absorb, but to get out on the side of a highway and click a picture is not climbing inside the "real" Israel. It is simply being a tourist. However, snapping a picture and driving through random streets because they look interesting or stopping on the side of a road because you see an old military base, that's what it means to know the heart. Tourists don't know that the hole-in-the-wall restaurants are usually the best ones. Just the other day, I went to a juice stand off Ben-Yehuda street. It looked a little sketchy, but then again so do a lot of the stores on the that street. I asked for a juice with all different fruits, but I wasn't sure what I was getting. In the end, it was the best juice I've had in Jerusalem.
This juice experience tells me how much I have to learn about this city, but as I learn about it, I keep the heart of Israel with me. Last week, I went to the Temple Mount, where the famous golden dome shines as a symbol for Jerusalem. While waiting in line for security, a Bar-Mitzvah was passing through. The klezmer music echoed off the lime stone and eyes turned to watch the boy make his way to the Western Wall. A few days later, I went to Tiberias to Chamat Gadera, the hot springs. It was surprisingly crowded given that it was rainy and that it was Shabbat. But either way, this natural jacuzzi was filled with only Israelis so while this may be a tourist site, it is a favorite of natives. (pictures here)
Yes, you read that correctly. There was rain last weekend in Tiberias and rain, thunder and lightening, and hail this weekend in Haifa. This week's storm, unlike last week, was wild. The streets were filled with water as the rain spattered onto the roof. Hail knocked on roofs and indented cars. 10 minutes later, after some chicken soup, the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and the water disappeared from the streets. As if it never rained at all.
A tour group had stopped in front of an important site. The tour guide said them, "see the man on the bench? To his left you will see battlefield on which many men died. On his right you will see the graveyard of those men. Above his head you see a great maple tree. This tree was planted in honor of the men and the plaques that begin starting at his feet were put down to commemorate those men." The man thought to himself. "Maybe someday, the tourguide will say 'You see the tree that grows maple leaves and the battlefield where men died? The graveyard and the plaques? Those aren't important. You see the man on the bench? He is what keeps this city alive."
The point of the story is, as a tourist, to stop what you're doing and look around. Not at the sites, but at the people because it is the citizens of the town that continue to keep the sites as they are. They are the true heart. While I try to absorb the "real" city of where I am, you can't really know how that person lives until you talk to them. I may stereotype the yeshiva boys walking on Yafo Street as boys who sit and study Torah all day, but then when you see a team of them playing soccer and high-fiveing one another, that's the real Jerusalem. The cafes on the beach may be expensive, but seeing families park their blankets on the sand every Shabbat and friends relaxing in the water, that is the heart of Israel.
If I mention "Israel" to you, you will most likely imagine an image of the Kotel and Jerusalem stone. But what about the neighborhoods of Israel? The ones that aren't tourist attraction? The ones where people work day-in and day-out and live in a home. The small towns of Israel also make up the character of the State, not just the famous attractions. The small town of Yavneh is composed of a generation of fighter pilots. They settled in this town because it was an open space for the planes. The random sites on the side of the highway are also important to absorb, but to get out on the side of a highway and click a picture is not climbing inside the "real" Israel. It is simply being a tourist. However, snapping a picture and driving through random streets because they look interesting or stopping on the side of a road because you see an old military base, that's what it means to know the heart. Tourists don't know that the hole-in-the-wall restaurants are usually the best ones. Just the other day, I went to a juice stand off Ben-Yehuda street. It looked a little sketchy, but then again so do a lot of the stores on the that street. I asked for a juice with all different fruits, but I wasn't sure what I was getting. In the end, it was the best juice I've had in Jerusalem.
This juice experience tells me how much I have to learn about this city, but as I learn about it, I keep the heart of Israel with me. Last week, I went to the Temple Mount, where the famous golden dome shines as a symbol for Jerusalem. While waiting in line for security, a Bar-Mitzvah was passing through. The klezmer music echoed off the lime stone and eyes turned to watch the boy make his way to the Western Wall. A few days later, I went to Tiberias to Chamat Gadera, the hot springs. It was surprisingly crowded given that it was rainy and that it was Shabbat. But either way, this natural jacuzzi was filled with only Israelis so while this may be a tourist site, it is a favorite of natives. (pictures here)
Yes, you read that correctly. There was rain last weekend in Tiberias and rain, thunder and lightening, and hail this weekend in Haifa. This week's storm, unlike last week, was wild. The streets were filled with water as the rain spattered onto the roof. Hail knocked on roofs and indented cars. 10 minutes later, after some chicken soup, the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and the water disappeared from the streets. As if it never rained at all.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Do You Understand?
Most of the kids in my class are over one. But the age range in that one year is very drastic. The 14 month old can't talk yet nor can he sit up, but that's mostly because of his cystic fibrosis. The 15 month old can sit up and walk if you hold her hands. She can also say "et zeh," the Hebrew version of "that." The 18 month old can walk and, as us teachers like to say, eats like a prince. He always wants to wash his hands and when he eats most of his food actually ends up in his mouth. The other 18 month old is blind so she can't walk by herself yet, but she is able to talk and complete words. The 21 month old is the most independent one year old I have ever encountered. She walks, she is learning to talk (her favorite word? Todah? And yes, that's phrased as a question), and she can "pretend play." The other two kids in the class are 2 or 3, but developmentally they are where the one year olds are.
This week, the 21 month old did the cutest thing. She took a doll and carried it over to the high chair and tried to strap it in. She dragged one of the stools that the teachers use to feed the kids and mimicked us. She took the doll out and burped it and then wanted to change it's diaper. This is our routine for the kids: After breakfast we change their diapers.
This got me thinking. How much do babies actually understand? We'll tell her to go wash her hands, but is she just not listening or does she just not understand? How much are they paying attention to what adults do? Who/what do they choose to mimic and who/what do they choose to ignore and why is it this way? When do babies start understanding commands and "do" what they're told? They may repeat "Dooby" (teddy bear), but do they actually know what that word means? Are they able to comprehend that everything has a name?
These kids all know exactly what they want. The 18 month old will put his hands up wanting to be held. Or the 15 month old will point to the playground and start crying. Do they want "Maym" because it's instinctive to want something to drink? Or do they want "Teh" because they know it tastes good?
On a separate note, for New Year's Eve, I went to a friend's apartment, but with no Ball Drop, no freezing my butt off at First Night, and so few people celebrating it, the night really felt like any other Shabbat night. When one of my friends, who was at work, called me to wish me Happy New Year, he said "Shana Tova." For a moment I was so confused. Shana Tova? That's September. But that's how you say "happy new year" in Hebrew. New Year's Day, my friend was driving home to a town near Tel Aviv so I went with him and saw friends in Tel Aviv. It was a great start to a new year.
The Negev pictures are up. The first few are of the crazy sandstorm we had a few weeks ago. Enjoy!
This week, the 21 month old did the cutest thing. She took a doll and carried it over to the high chair and tried to strap it in. She dragged one of the stools that the teachers use to feed the kids and mimicked us. She took the doll out and burped it and then wanted to change it's diaper. This is our routine for the kids: After breakfast we change their diapers.
This got me thinking. How much do babies actually understand? We'll tell her to go wash her hands, but is she just not listening or does she just not understand? How much are they paying attention to what adults do? Who/what do they choose to mimic and who/what do they choose to ignore and why is it this way? When do babies start understanding commands and "do" what they're told? They may repeat "Dooby" (teddy bear), but do they actually know what that word means? Are they able to comprehend that everything has a name?
These kids all know exactly what they want. The 18 month old will put his hands up wanting to be held. Or the 15 month old will point to the playground and start crying. Do they want "Maym" because it's instinctive to want something to drink? Or do they want "Teh" because they know it tastes good?
On a separate note, for New Year's Eve, I went to a friend's apartment, but with no Ball Drop, no freezing my butt off at First Night, and so few people celebrating it, the night really felt like any other Shabbat night. When one of my friends, who was at work, called me to wish me Happy New Year, he said "Shana Tova." For a moment I was so confused. Shana Tova? That's September. But that's how you say "happy new year" in Hebrew. New Year's Day, my friend was driving home to a town near Tel Aviv so I went with him and saw friends in Tel Aviv. It was a great start to a new year.
The Negev pictures are up. The first few are of the crazy sandstorm we had a few weeks ago. Enjoy!
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