Otzma Chai
Thursday, July 22, 2004
You can't find 'em in the States....
Now that I’ve been back in the States for a few days, I’ve found that a few things that had become an integral part of my life in Israel are completely lacking in American culture. As I get reacquainted with American supermarkets, SUVs, Walmarts, and English menus, I’d like to share with you all the wonders I’ve discovered that you may not have known you were lacking.
As you may remember, I’m a bit of a floor-squeegee-aholic. I’ve found that most rooms here are carpeted (not that that’s a bad thing), which makes squeegeeing the floors slightly less of a reality. Even those floors that are tile simply aren’t built the way Israeli floors are built: for squeegeeing. There are no drains in the floors of every bathroom and even the outside doors have a little ledge that prevent water from being swept out. What ever am I to do without my trusty squeegee?
Although there seem to be more varieties of food here in one supermarket than I saw over the past eleven months combined, I’ve found two things missing in American dietary habits. (Although hummus was arguably the main staple in my diet, I’m not including it because it can be easily found in every grocery store.) Milkees are missing. You’ve seen Jell-O pudding cups, now imagine them with a chocolate flavor, taller, and with the top part filled with whipped cream: that’s a Milkee. The ultimate in decadence-meets-instant-snack, and yet somehow the American prepackaged food industry hasn’t discovered them.
Also missing in the dairy section is milk-in-a-bag. You can buy milk in cardboard carton or plastic jug, and even some flavored milk in glass bottles, but there’s no milk sold in bags. For reasons I never figured out, most milk in Israel is bought in a plastic bag, put in a special milk-bag holder, and placed in the refrigerator. You snip off one of the corners and then pour the milk-bag as it sits in its special holder. I know it sounds complicated, but it’s actually quite simple when you get used to it, and less wasteful, too. Smaller bags of milk are sold, too, in flavors such as chocolate, coffee, strawberry, and banana, and drunk sort of like juice boxes. But in a plastic bag.
Continuing in the kitchen, many American kitchens have dishwashers so they don’t quite need the Israeli innovations for drying hand-washed dishes. Older apartments often have built-in ruts in the counters that function to direct water from draining dishes back into the sink. Somewhat newer apartments may have a special cupboard above the sink that, when opened, becomes this space-age looking hanging, unfolding, mid-air dish dryer. Placed directly over the sink, all the water drips right back to where it came from. Having guests over but the dishes aren’t all dry? The entire contraption can be lifted back into the cabinet and the doors shut so your guests won’t be distracted by your new-fangled dish dryer and can then watch what’s really important: you!
I’ve already mentioned that American bathrooms are often missing the trademark drain-in-the-floor, but that’s not all they’re lacking. Besides discovering that toilet paper dispensers do not have to be impossible-to-fill spring-loading, Israelis have a better system for flushing the toilet. Yes, you heard correctly, toilets flush differently in Israel. Because water shortage is a constant daily reality, Israel has come up with many new ways of conserving water from drip irrigation to double-flush toilets. All toilets are equipped with two flush levers, a big one and a small one. When there's not much to be flushed down the bowl, using the smaller one wastes less water. When more water is necessary, the larger lever directs a bigger flush.
Leaving the house, it's time to go shopping. Where to you go? The market, of course. It's where everyone shops, and there's more produce there than I'd ever seen before. After buying some vegetables at the supermarket today, I was shocked by the lack of selection. Although the rest of the store was filled with items I hadn't seen in a year, the produce section was quite pathetic compared to the bustling, bursting market found in every Israeli town. At the market you can chose from a dozen varieties of avocados in the summer and twice as many types of citrus fruits in the winter. All of this, of course, is sandwiched within a pushing, loud, dirty outdoor area where ever individual seller is screaming for you to buy his grapes or his tomatoes. Do those almonds look good? Go ahead a try a couple to see if you want to buy some. Definitely a full sensory experience.
Just walking down an American street, and there are a few things that are missing from my Israeli sidewalk wanderings (besides the security guards posted at the entrance to every store, restaurant, and public building). Believe it or not, the US is far, far behind on the cellphone craze. An average Israeli seems to have about three cellphones, usually two that are carried with him or her at all times. That may seem a bit excessive, but don't worry, children don't have so many. I'd say most kids between the ages of seven and 16 only have one cellphone, though it's most likely specially decorated for his or her age, be that with cars and trucks or kittens or Harry Potter. Also, the streets (and buses and trains) are often crammed with soldiers on break, with a gun casually slung across their shoulder. In a country with a mandatory draft, all 18 year-olds seem to receive standard issue M-16s to accompany their slowly fading acne. Their absence is something else I need to start getting used to.
I'm sure Ill be noticing other little culture quirks the longer I'm here, like how movies play straight through instead of have a fifteen minute interruption for those who can't spend two straight hours without talking on their cellphone or smoking a cigarette. Speaking of cellphones in movie theaters, I bet it's not common for people here to answer their ringing cellphone in the middle of a show and carry on a brief conversation while their seat-mates don't even flinching.
I hope you all have enjoyed my emails from this past year in Israel. In case I haven't mentioned it, next year I will be working at a Jewish boarding school in Greensboro, North Carolina. Although I'm incredibly excited about this, it probably won't give the incredible raw material for email writing that Israel has granted me for the past eleven months. If you'd like to continue to keep in touch, I'm still going to be using this email address for a while.
Thanks for Listening,
Sarah
PS - Keep your eyes peeled for two last photo albums of my last few months in Israel that I'll be sending out today or tomorrow.
PPS - This email reminded me of something I received as an email forward that I truly enjoyed. Though you may not understand many of the cultural references, I found the entire piece quite accurate, so I'm including it at here at the end.
What a Country! by Ephraim Kishon
It's the only country where the cross country highway stops in the middle of the state; Ben Gurion Airport 2000 is still not opened in 2003; water imports start at the most raining year of the decade, and the Gelilot Camp is being evacuated for 8 years now, but is still operational.
It's the only country where the unemployed strike.
It's the only country in which the 60-year-old folks still hate the corporal they had 42 years ago. It's the only country where you have 2 ministers of finance and neither of them has money.
It's the only country where the minister of transportation placed a sign on the road reading: "Kohanim, drive on the left side of the road".
It's the only country where the mother of a soldier has the cell number of his officer and he'd better beware.
It's the only country which sent a communication satellite to the sky, but nobody there knows how to communicate with each other.
It's the only country where you already had scuds from Iraq, katiushas from Lebanon, explosives from Gaza and bombs from Syria and where still, a 3 bedroom-apartment costs more than in Paris.
It's the only country where porno starlets are asked what their moms think about their job, soccer players bring their dads to the games to yell at their coach, and on Friday night everyone goes to their parents for a peaceful Shabbat diner.
It's the only country where a typical Israeli meal consists of an Arab salad, Rumanian Kebab, Iraqi Pita and Bavarian cream. We must like to eat anti-Semites.
It's the only country where the man with the open, stained shirt is the honorable minister, and the one next to him with the suit and tie is his chauffeur.
It's the only country where when someone says: "I didn't interrupt you", he really means to interrupt you.
It's the only country where Moslems sell holy memorabilia to Christians and get paid with Jewish currency.
The only country where you leave home when you're 18 and still live there when you're 24.
The only country where no woman gets along with her mother, but talks to her at least three times a day.
The only country where the rich belong to the socialist left, the poor to the capitalist right and the middle class pays for all of them.
The only country where you can easily get computer programs to build and send satellites, but you have to wait 7 days for your washing machine to be repaired.
The only country where you ask a girl on your first date where she was in the army, and find out she was more combative then you.
The only country in which between the happiest day of the year and the saddest one, you have exactly 60 seconds.
The only country in which most of its citizens can't explain why they live there, but they have a lot of reasons why they can't live elsewhere.
The only country where, if you hate politicians, you hate clerks, you hate the taxes, the quality of service, and the weather - it shows that you love the country.
It's the only country where I could live.
It is my only country.
Monday, July 12, 2004
From Volunteer to Student to Tourist
I volunteered in Israel for ten months. I learned in Israel for three weeks. And for the past week and half I have been touring Israel. It's a very funny position to be in: I spent nearly a whole year insisting to all Israelis that "Ani lo tai-er-et, ani mitnadevet" (I'm not a tourist, I'm a volunteer). And yet suddenly here I am, a tourist in a country I've lived in for the past eleven months.
My mother and I met up in Jerusalem the Friday before last. We've been having adventure after adventure since then. Because I have limited internet time (big surprise), I'm just going to sum up for you very briefly where we've been and what we've been doing for the past week.
In Jerusalem we met up, went shopping in the market on Friday afternoon (the best, craziest time of the week), and went to services at my favorite synagogue ever, Shira Chadasha. Mommy loved the singing there, too, and afterward we went to dinner at my friends' house. Most of Saturday was spent napping and reading, although we did also go to services and have a lovely picnic in the park. On Sunday we hit up Jerusalem's Old City, going on a tour of the Tower of David Museum, visiting the Burnt House exhibit, shopping in the Arab market, and exploring the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Monday was spent going on a tour of the Israeli Supreme Court, visiting the Israel Museum and the Dead Sea Scrolls at the newly reopened Shrine of the Book, and shopping downtown.
On Tuesday morning we visited some friends of my mother's in Jerusalem. (Cab there, private car back.) Next we took all of our luggage to the airport storage, and then met up with family near Netanya. (Shared taxi to the airport, bus to Tel Aviv, train to Netanya, private car to their home.) After dinner we continued north to Haifa and our new hostel. (Private car to train station, train to Haifa, cab to hostel.) Grand total: 3 private cars, 2 cabs, 2 trains, 1 bus, 1 shared taxi, 1 day. Whew!
From Haifa we spent one morning shopping in the Druze village of Daliat El Carmel and another morning exploring the Crusader city of Old Acre. We also toured the Baha'i gardens, visited a museum, and ate a lot. On Friday morning we took a bus to Tsfat where we spent Shabbat. We explored the city and the artists' quarter in the afternoon, and then began twenty-four incredibly lazy hours. After an amazing Friday night dinner with a family of eight children, Mommy and I spent almost all of Saturday napping, reading, and sitting on the porch.
Today we took a bus down to Tiberias, rented a car, and began some more adventures. After an hour or so, we managed to find our way out of the city (I'm not as good a navigator as I'd thought). Our first stop was the 2000 year old boat at Ginosar commonly known as the Jesus Boat (see jesusboat.com). We then headed up the Mount of the Beatitudes where Jesus made his "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth, etc.," speech (see Matthew 5). Then we went down to the first kibbutz I lived on, Sde Eliyahu, where we're spending the night. I gave Mommy a tour of the place and now it's time to cram a bit of sleep in before another full day.
Tomorrow we hope to hit up some of the following: the Crusader's castle at Belvoir/Kochav haYarden, the Roman ruins of Beit She'an, the Galilee Experience in Tiberias, and a beach on the Mediterranean Sea. We need to start early because by tomorrow evening we're going to be sitting in an airplane, headed back to the good ole U. S. of A.
See You Soon Maybe,
Sarah....
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Desert Magic
You may wonder when I have time for those 'extracurriculars' I mentioned in my last email what with my mornings filled with classes, and afternoons spent either doing homework, hanging out by the pool, or reading. (I've finished eight books for pleasure in the past three weeks.) My answer for you is quite simple: Evenings!
Originally Deb and I were living in the guest house area of the kibbutz. For two nights our accommodations were quite dreamy. It was like living in a nice hotel room, on the very edge of the kibbutz. However its advantages were also its disadvantages. We were far away from the library, dining hall, classrooms, and pool. We were the only people our age living out in the guest house area, as everyone else was just a passing guest, staying for a few nights at most. On our second day, we were given the option of staying in the guest house (their original plan for us), or moving into the volunteer quarters.
After some deliberation, we decided to move into the not-as-nice-but-nice-enough-and-still-clean volunteer area. Before we discovered the wonders of bug spray, we somewhat doubted our decision, but now that we aren't visited nightly by cockroaches I'm very glad we moved. Although it was nice to live in the lap of luxury, there's also something to be said for social interaction. Now that we live near the other volunteers, we can make new friends, have people to sit with during meals, and have company when sitting on the porch each night. The volunteer apartments are also only a minute walk from anywhere that's anywhere, as opposed to a ten minute trek from the guest house. (You may not think ten minutes is much, but now imagine that you forgot your notebooks and you're going to be late to class and it's one hundred ten degrees out.)
Although I needed to learn how to get over my I-should-be-working-too mindset, it's been quite great to interact with the volunteers here on Ketura. They are almost all English-speaking (as is most of the kibbutz) and are a very friendly group of people. By hanging out with the volunteers, we get to find out about all sorts exciting activities going on in and around our kibbutz. Although many nights were spent sitting in lawn chairs and talking and star gazing, we managed to get out a bit, too. Even if 'getting out' just meant crossing the horse stables. Huh? Well, obviously, the kibbutz pub is there! Many of the local kibbutzim have pub nights, and Ketura's are Saturdays and Thursdays. The drinks are quite cheap, though there's not much variety and the atmosphere is casual to say the least. The same can be said for all the regional pubs. After a hard day's work, a few beers and some good music with friends may hit the spot, but you may not feel like changing out of the filthy clothes you wore all day in the fields.
One evening the volunteers were offered a tour of the Experimental Orchards and Deb and I went along, too. We saw all the crazy one-of-kind plants they have there, literally thousands of different trees and shrubs, grown for experimentation and leisure, not harvest. Another night we climbed 'the mountain' behind kibbutz with the other volunteers in honor of someone's birthday. After watching the sun set from the mountain we had cookies and chocolate and by the time we reached the bottom it was completely dark out. There was a full moon so we were able to cross the desert back to the kibbutz, but the stars were absolutely incredible.
Speaking of incredible stars, the stars from that night were nothing compared to the stars we saw as we walked an hour along a totally unlit road in the middle of the desert from one kibbutz to another. Remember that archeology dig I mentioned earlier? Well along with the dig, the archaeologist have offered a number of nighttime lectures at a kibbutz just north of Ketura. The first one I attended was about the Roman fortress of Vindolanda in England. (Did you know that they've actually found postcard-like writing tablets there, made from super thin slices of wood and ink that have survived intact almost two thousand years?!) The second lecture was about Qumran, the place in Israel where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. (Did you know that in one particular cave five hundred scrolls or scroll fragments were found?!) After that lecture, we went with the volunteers and the archeology students to the pub at that kibbutz. We had no ride back, so we began our hour trek back to Ketura. The road, although straight and well marked, is completely unlit and since there's not much else going on in the middle of the desert between remote kibbutzim, the stars were absolutely stunning. At one point we even thought we saw cosmic dust. Okay, maybe it wasn't that, but it was truly mind-blowing anyway.
At another kibbutz down the road, there is the local regional center and theater, with a number of different events going on all the time. We went to see a movie there one night (Butterfly Effect), but don't ask me how it was. Deb and I walked out in the beginning to eat amazing ice cream instead. The next week we went to the local music concert there, which was absolutely amazing. All the students (children and adults alike) performed the stuff they had learned all year. So although some sounded like a middle school orchestra concert, there was also some phenomenal classical guitar, vocal solos, and rock bands. One of my favorite parts of the whole night was the musicians' attire. Everyone wore shorts and t-shirts and sandals, except for about a third of the performers who played barefoot. Yay kibbutz casual.
Following the idea of life-cycle events on a kibbutz, (remember the wedding at Sde Eliyahu?) right after arriving on Ketura a baby boy was born. Eight days later we joined the kibbutz in celebrating his brit (bris/circumcision), welcoming the baby into the Jewish people. The next week there was a Bar Mitzvah on kibbutz of a young boy who grew up on kibbutz, but moved with his family to America two years ago. He didn't want to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah anywhere but Israel, so he and his family returned for a month to visit and have his Bar Mitzvah at Ketura. And a few days later was another kibbutz wedding! Whew!
After packing up all my stuff once again, Deb and I left Kibbutz Ketura after three amazing weeks of learning, hiking, and culture. As the bus headed north, I saw for the last time signs for ibex crossing (we were too far south for camels) and bridge flooding. Yes, apparently in the desert, all the bridges are in danger of flash floods in the winter. But it's quite amusing to see flood warning in the middle of the desert.
And now it's time to travel with my Mommy!
Until next time,
Sarah....
Monday, June 28, 2004
Done with One Program, On to Another
Immediately following Otzma, my friend Deb and I hauled all our stuff to the Jerusalem central bus station and, three hours later, boarded a bus down to Eilat. Eilat is the southern-most part of Israel, a port and resort city on the Red Sea. It's good four and a half hour bus ride from Jerusalem. For a country as small as this one, that's very very far away. We were not actually headed down to Eilat, but rather to a kibbutz about thirty minutes north. For the next three and a half weeks, Deb and I would be living together, eating together, sleeping in the same room, hanging out together, hiking together, and most importantly learning together.
The program that we are doing is called Keren Kolot, at Kibbutz Ketura. Although they had planned for it to be a larger scale program, as it turns out the only two participants are Deb and myself. We have classes in the mornings five days a week, go on some sort of hike one day a week, and have lots of evening activities to keep us busy. (Though, to be completely honest, the pool keeps us as busy as our homework does). The classes are quite interesting, and have quite an diverse range. Each class meets four times throughout the program, for an hour or two each time (not to mention the readings and other assignments we do in preparation). We have Tanach (Bible), Zionism as Messianism, M'forshim (Commentaries), Parshat ha'Shavua (Weekly Torah Portion), Midrash, Kabbalah (Mysticism), Talmud, and Liturgy.
The classes are for the most part quite interesting, though I must admit it's intimidating to be one of two students in a class. If nothing else, it certainly forces you to do your readings before class. You can't hide in the back of the classroom when you don't know what the teacher's talking about if you are half the classroom population. Like anywhere else, some of the teachers are better than others, but luckily all of our teachers provide us with great readings and advice about where to look for more information. There are two big libraries on the kibbutz, so we can continue our readings there. The best learning tool, though, is definitely Deb. We take the same classes, read the same readings, go on the same hikes, and discuss all of it together so we can practically read each other's minds by now. Since we're practically inseparable here, I can roll over at one in the morning with a new insight to something we learned last week and she'll roll over from the other side of the room and we'll keep talking until we either fall asleep or reach over to check some of the texts we learned recently.
Another integral part of the Keren Kolot program are the tiyulim (hikes). The first two hikes we went on were in the kibbutz's 'backyard.' We saw a Neolithic altar angled directly in the rays of the setting sun, some interesting and colorful sandstone formations, flint scrap heaps, and a surprising amount of desert vegetation. We also climbed "the mountain" under which the entire kibbutz seems to sit in the shadow of. The climb up "the mountain" isn't so difficult, and the view is phenomenal. Kibbutz Ketura is in the Arava desert, south of the well-known Negev desert. These two deserts are separated by a few series of mountain ranges, and "the mountain" is a peak on one of these border ranges. Last week I woke up before five in the morning and climbed "the mountain" alone in time to see the sun rise over Jordan. Wow.
Another hike we went on took us to this stone-age structure, just sitting next to a highway next to an air force base. It was a large circle of stones, and within it, a smaller square bordered with larger stones, with the corners in the cardinal directions. The western corner had a 'walled off' side area full of fifteen standing stones of various heights, just standing up in the desert for thousands of years. South of the square, still within the larger circle, were lots of small stones, standing in the earth and forming pictures. Pictures! Of leopards! There were all these leopards, pictures made out of stones from forever ago! There was even this one group of pictures of a few leopards attacking a hyrax. I've looked all over for pictures of the Leopard Temple online so I can show you how amazing it was, but I haven't found any. So for now you're just going to have to take my word for it and hope my pictures develop well.
Another day we joined a local archeology dig excavating a Roman fort not far from our kibbutz. We sifted through their garbage pile, finding more broken pottery than anyone could ever need, plus a number of bone remnants. After a few hours of work and breakfast, Deb and I got to work in the actual fort. We were given an area that they were pretty sure didn't have any important finds at the particular level we were working on. (Phew! I wouldn't want to mess up all these peoples' life work because I don't know how to use a shovel delicately enough.) Although we didn't find anything in that particular room of the fort, it was really neat to work alongside all these American archaeologists and grad students and listen to their finds and watch as everything was painstakingly documented.
The dig site is located across the road from a nature preserve in the desert. The preserve includes an actual oasis, and or guide/teacher taught us how to differentiate a true oasis from other vegetation that grows in dry river beds that flood during the winter. At one point, while filling buckets with sand to be sifted through, I looked up and saw a wild ostrich walking through the desert across the street. I'd never imagined those strange creatures could exist outside zoos and farms, and certainly never thought I'd ever see one roaming free in the middle of the desert in Israel.
The Keren Kolot program, as amazing as it has been, has only been one small aspect of my experience here in the desert these past few weeks. I'll write about all our extracurricular activities next time I have computer access.
Hope you're enjoying your summer,
Sarah....
Monday, June 21, 2004
A Change of Pace
I'm sorry this email is so incredibly late. We have very, very limited internet access where I am currently staying, and there isn't even any internet cafe in the vicinity, like I used in Jerusalem. I apologize for this email's tardiness, and will write more as soon as I have the opportunity.
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The last week of Otzma was certainly a change of pace for me. After two and a half months of kibbutz life, consisting almost entirely of individual work in the fields, eating, sleeping, and bonfires, I was suddenly hurtled back into a world of people to see and places to go. A bit disorienting at first, but certainly worthwhile in the end.
Immediately following the wonderful wedding extravaganza at Sde Eliyahu, my roommate and I took a van to join the rest of Otzma in Tiberias to begin our concluding hikes and seminars. Unfortunately, I was unable to join everyone on the first day of hiking because I was sick, but after a day of sleep, television (Turkish children doing international folk dancing, of course), and more sleep, I was well enough to join everyone for a picnic dinner and a bit of a reunion.
The next day began bright and early with a beautiful hike in the Golan. From where the hike ended, we were able to enter the park containing Nimrod's Fortress. Built, captured, recaptured, and refortified in the 12th century, the fortress is located north of the Golan Heights, near the borders of Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan. We crawled, climbed and explored the castle, and right as we were heading back on to the bus I literally bumped into an American couple. After apologizing I turned the corner and saw that their daughter was my friend Alisha! Imagine running into a friend from southern Israel in a centuries old Crusader's castle in the absolute northernmost part of the country, two days before she returns to California. It's quite a small world, especially in Israel.
From Nimrod's fortress we headed down a bit to have the crazy adventure of rafting down the Jordan River. Now, don't get me wrong, most of the "great and mighty Jordan" resembles more of a trickle, a puddle even, than a river. But up in the north, it could definitely be considered a river, albeit not a terribly powerful one. Not two minutes into our peaceful raft down the river, the forty of us quiet, peace-loving, do-gooder volunteers from abroad turned into vengeful pirates. Even our staff members got into the fights: splashing, pushing, pulling and capsizing as many of us as they could get their hands on. By the end of the trip, nearly every Otzma-nik was completely soaked, somehow injured, and many possessions had mysteriously changed owners. Back on dry land, our helpful, volunteering spirit returned as we bandaged the injured among us and hobbled back to the bus.
After some discount sandal shopping we returned to our hotel to prepare for Shabbat. It was restful and relaxing Shabbat, with some programs, some fun, some reading, some napping, and lots of eating. On Saturday night, we went on a "disco-boat" on the Sea of Galilee. For an hour and a half we danced, drank, and played drums as our boat floated in the middle of the lake. After docking us back in Tiberias I went out for dessert with some Otzma friends to celebrate my birthday a day early.
Sunday morning we woke up earlier than planned because some people decided they wanted an extra hike instead of the previously scheduled activities. I wasn't too happy about this decision (shouldn't a girl get to sleep in on her birthday?) but I generally enjoy hikes, too, so I got on the bus with sleepy eyes. A few birthday calls later we arrived at the beginning of our hike - the foot of Mount Gilboa!
Now, if you remember, Mount Gilboa is one of the two mountains I worked between on kibbutz for the months that I was there. Mount Gilead (the historical, biblical mountain east of Sde Eliyahu) is in Jordan, so we weren't about to climb it, but Mount Gilboa was rather accessible. We'd made a number of plans to hike it while we were volunteering, but something always got in the way. Now, after leaving kibbutz, I was finally going to have the opportunity to finally climb it! The hike was reasonably hard, and it was quite hot out, but as our leader promised, when we got to the top the view was worth it and we were quite proud of ourselves.
Back on the bus we headed to the coast, to a small town called Michmoret. My old roommate from Beit Shemesh, Lara, had had an internship here while I was working on kibbutz. She worked at a sea turtle rescue and rehabilitation center, the only one of its kind in the entire region. Lara gave us a tour and introduced us to a number of the turtles currently living at the center. Back on the bus we drove down to Jerusalem, to a hotel we'd be staying at for the conclusion of Otzma. [The hotel was conveniently located across the street from my airline's central office so I was able to officially get my plane ticket back. For those of you not yet in the know, I'll be arriving state-side on July 13th.]
That night I skipped the Otzma programming to have dinner with some of my non-Otzma Jerusalem friends in celebration of my birthday. Quite a diverse group, we had a great time (or, at least I did, which is all that matters on June 6th, anyway) eating, meeting each other, and just shmoozing in general. As I looked around the table I realized that of my twelve friends, I had slept on the couch (or its equivalent) of every single one of them at some point throughout the past year. In case I hadn't noticed, this proved that I really had crashed at the homes of almost everyone I knew. After an amazing dinner and dessert, I finished off my wonderful day with rousing games of shesh-besh (backgammon) into the wee hours of the night. It was truly one of the best birthdays ever.
The next two days were a blur of workshops and lectures and classes that formed our closing seminar. Every bit of spare time was filled with some last-minute gift buying, photographing, socializing, bar hopping, and attempting to "suck the marrow" out of a country we'd called our home for the past ten months. After a formal and informal closing ceremony, we lugged our bags separate ways and promised to keep in touch. Otzma 18 ended on June 9th.
That afternoon, my friend Deb and I took a bus down to the desert to begin the next segment of our Israel adventure....
Monday, June 07, 2004
What a Way to Say Goodbye!
Wednesday night was our last night on kibbutz before rejoining the rest of Otzma for some concluding hikes and seminars. Wednesday night also happened to be a kibbutz wedding at Sde Eliyahu. All kibbutz members were invited (although some more so than others) so we volunteers were able to join in on almost all the festivities. And let me tell you, it was an absolutely phenomenal way to end my two-and-a-half month stay on kibbutz.
Looking at how people were dressed was a very entertaining way of spending the reception. The bride was from the kibbutz, but she moved here with her family from Canada many years ago. The groom was from northern Israel, but most of his Sephardi (middle-eastern) family was from Tel Aviv. In general, the dress at Israeli weddings is much more casual than their American counterparts. This becomes even more exaggerated when the wedding actually takes place on a kibbutz. The Canadians were wearing what would be appropriate at your average American wedding, moderately formal dresses and suits (mostly without jackets). The Tel Avivians were dressed in even more gaudy, stylish dresses, often with boots or very high heels. The kibbutzniks were wearing blouses and skirts, or white untucked shirts and slacks or jeans. Every kibbutznik wore sandals or flip-flops.
And where else but a kibbutz can the majority of the guests arrive on bicycles?
As the receptions ended (one for the groom, one for the bride), people began to make their way to the chuppa (wedding canopy). The men got in a big group and led the groom, dancing and singing across the field, to the chuppa. Then we women gathered together around the bride and, surrounding her in all directions, sang and danced with her to the chuppa and to her waiting groom. The ceremony itself was very beautiful, and it was amazing to watch the bride and groom together under the canopy. They made an absolutely perfect couple.
After the brief ceremony (interspersed with lots of humming and singing), the now married bride and groom were taken to a small room where they could be alone together for a few minutes before joining all the hundreds of guests in their celebration. This being a kibbutz, they were driven off to their private room on a decorated golf cart!
We all then proceeded to the kibbutz dining hall, decorated especially for the wedding. After some good eating, the dancing began. There was a live band and we danced and danced for over three hours, hoping to fulfill the commandment of bringing joy to the bride and groom. We were informed that usually at our kibbutz, the dancing begins separate, with men in one part of the room and women in the other, but toward the end of the night the two groups dance together. However, since the groom's family was more traditional, the dancing was separated all night by a small wall. That absolutely didn't stop any of the excitement or energy and within an hour nearly everyone was drenched in sweat. And throughout it all, the bride seemed completely grounded in all the festivities. She didn't seem lost and not-part-of-it-all like many bride seem, she was down and dancing with us all night.
The dancing paused for a bit for some speeches and then performances. The bride's friends from her seminary [scandalously, according to some] performed a song for her, A Woman of Valor. It's traditionally sung to a wife on Shabbat, and it's from the very end of the book of Proverbs. The groom's friends then did an amazing dance routine which was some combination of line dance, Israeli folk dance, and cheer-leading routine. They ended their show by forming a huge human pyramid with a sign proclaiming "Mazal Tov M'Yeshivat Ha'Golan!" (Congratulations from the Golan Yeshiva).
After some more dancing, we volunteers left the wedding early to return to our rooms to pack and pack and pack and clean. We were up until nearly three in the morning, and woke up two hours later to get in a van and join the rest of Otzma for our closing hikes and seminars. Sleep deprivation and all, it was an absolutely phenomenal way to end my stay at kibbutz. It was a culmination of all the wonderful energy and community, alongside traditional Judaism in a natural setting, that made this last part of Otzma so amazing for me.
Goodbye Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu. I miss you already.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
The Circus and the Torah
Okay, so the two aren't really connected, but they are two things that happened this week that I really wanted to share with you, so this email will be in two parts. In chronological order: the circus and the Torah.
The Circus.
I spent this past Shabbat in Jerusalem with some very religious friends of mine and had a great time. We caught up with each other, I met knew people, rested a lot, and learned a bit, too. Then, on Sunday I played hooky from the kibbutz and stayed in town an extra day. My roommate told me about The Jerusalem Circus ("kirkas") so I decided to go to the matinee show before returning to kibbutz.
The circus was put on by children, but absolutely amazing. There were clowns, jugglers, acrobats, tumblers, a contortionist, unicyclists, plate spinners, trapezists, and more. The entire show was so exciting, and it was equally fun to wash the audience. The children were able to sit surprisingly still and attentively for nearly two hours through all the acts, without an intermission. Their parents smiled and laughed at the performances while the children sat absolutely entranced and spellbound, occasionally clapping and bouncing in their seats during incredible balancing and trapeze spectacles.
However, if this were any ordinary circus I'd still tell you about it, but it probably wouldn't merit a place in the subject line of this email. What made the show unique was who composed the performers and the audience. There were 24 child performers, ages six to 18. They were Jews and Arab Christians and Arab Muslims. The Jerusalem Circus partially supported by The Abraham Fund, an organization that works to advance coexistence, equality and cooperation among Israel's Jewish and Arab citizens. The entire circus was one huge incredible coexistence project, as could be seen the moment you walked into the theater.
There were hundreds of kids in the audience, mostly ages four to eight. They came with their parents, and simply by dress you could somewhat distinguish the various groups of people. I saw women wearing hijabs (traditional Muslim head scarves) and men and boys wearing kippot (traditional Jewish head coverings). I saw women wearing scarves and hats (traditional Jewish indicator of married women) and men covered in tattoos. I saw men and boys with tzitzit (traditional Jewish religious fringes) and Christian nuns in gray habits. And I didn't need to listen hard to hear Hebrew, Arabic, English, French, and Russian spoken in the crowd.
The introduction to the circus, given both in Hebrew and Arabic, explained a bit about the circus, including the fact that it has steadily grown and improved over the years, this being the fifth year of its existence. At the end of the performance, the director thanked each of the performers individually, and their names also truly demonstrated what a unique group they were. Some of their names were Elisheva, Shak'ed, Galit, Abdullah, Alex, Slava, Shireen, Aaron, Yusef, Sarah, Mahmud, and Jamie. So yes, it was a beautiful demonstration of coexistence, but it was also a circus, and a great one at that! The acts were quite phenomenal and I truly recommend checking out their webpage at http://www.jerusalemcircus.org/.
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The Torah.
Last night and today was Shavuot, the holiday celebrating the giving of the Torah to the Jews at Mount Sinai. (The Torah being the first five books of the bible, and possibly the Oral Law, eventually written down in the form of the Talmud, depending on who you ask.) It's also the spring harvest holiday, a holiday now celebrated by eating lots of dairy products, and one of the three pilgrimage holidays. Shavuot was one of the three times each year that Jews from everywhere came to the Temple in Jerusalem, back in the day. So where did Sarah go? Is this getting too predictable? Jerusalem!
One of the traditions for Shavuot is to stay up all night learning, and that was actually one of the main reasons I decided to go to Jerusalem. Although there were many classes offered on kibbutz throughout the night, they were all in Hebrew and I felt like if I actually wanted to learn something, not to mention stay awake all night paying attention, I could do so more easily among the dozens of English classes offered in Jerusalem. Randomly, immediately upon arriving in town, I ran into Ari and Emily from Gainesville - they were staying at the same hostel I was staying at! We ended up spending a lot of time together so that was great.
My first stop for the evening was a free dairy dinner for overseas students at The Conservative Yeshiva. After afternoon and evening prayers, we got down to the business of eating and shmoozing. I must have known a dozen people there from random connections (seminars, Shabbat meals, old friends) and it was absolutely wonderful to see so many of my favorite people in one place, just catching up over bagels. After dinner I went to a synagogue to hear my first class of the night, this one was called Freedom and Necessity at Sinai and it was quite interesting, although somewhat hard to follow. I truly enjoyed it, and it was a great way to start off the holiday because many themes that the rabbi spoke of were referred to by other teachers as the night wore on.
After this class I went up to a study hall with some friends to consume some caffeine and read and talk a little before our next adventure. Then we headed over to another synagogue to hear a class called Law and Narrative in the Book of Ruth. Ruth is one of the parts of the bible read specifically on Shavuot, but unfortunately I started dozing off a bit in this class (it was from one until two thirty in the morning) so I didn't learn much. Next some of us went to a workshop given by our friend Uri on Rabbinic Interpretations of Dawn. The class was interesting, though not quite what I had expected, but it kept me awake and alert until quarter to four in the morning, so what else could you ask for?
At four am, we started to walk down to the Old City, to the Kotel, or Western Wall, for morning prayers. We were joined by people from all directions, all heading to the same place, just as our ancestors did thousands of years ago. I got so excited by the idea of walking to the Kotel in the pre-dawn hours, re-enacting a pilgrimage made by my forefathers, that I grabbed my friend's hand and started to skip. We skipped and ran and skipped all the way to the gates of the Old City, laughing and singing as we went, incredibly excited and energized by the idea of joining thousands of others at such a significant place before the sun even began to rise.
I had originally planned on spending part of my time among the masses of people at the Kotel and part of my time at the traditional egalitarian minyan held off to the side. The latter minyan (prayer group) was held south of the main part of the Kotel, though still at the Western Wall, because its egalitarian (men and women equal) nature had caused very many problems in the past at the main Kotel. After passing the main Kotel area, I went first to the egalitarian minyan and heard some kids singing a song, so I pushed my way through to them, grabbed their hands, and started dancing. This was totally an advantage to not being at the main Kotel. Although when we passed it, on the men's side there was singing and dancing, something like that would never happen at the women's side of the Kotel. After a few minutes of singing and dancing in celebration of receiving the Torah, we started services.
Due to time reasons, security situations, and mainly the fact that I got carried away in the service, I never made it back to the main part of the Kotel to push my way through the throngs of thousands of people who were there. However, our egalitarian services were absolutely great. There were maybe two hundred people there, men and women of all ages, praying together at the Western Wall as the sun rose on Shavuot. We prayed, listened to the Book of Ruth, heard the Ten Commandments read from the Torah, and became a community. By the time services were over by eight o'clock we'd been there three and a half hours, and many of us hadn't slept in over twenty four hours. I gave lots and lots of hugs as we all left, because many of my friends who were there would be leaving Israel for various parts of the world in the coming week. After the goodbyes, I returned to my hostel for four hours of much needed sleep before I started the day again.
Today I woke up incredibly energized and headed over to a meal of wonderful dairy delights. There were salads and lasagna and cheese and pudding and chocolate cookies and lots of cheesecake. After the meal I had planned on going to one or two more classes on the other side of town, but decided to stop by my friends' apartment to drop off some kibbutz goodies (bio-organic dates) first. While there, I met another friend of theirs who was visiting on her way to a picnic lunch. I realized that I knew almost everyone who would be at the lunch, and decided to tag along instead of going to the classes. The picnic was moved indoors, and I was too stuffed from my first lunch to eat, but I had a wonderful time hanging out with everyone there.
After the meal, we all went our separate ways and I headed back to where I was staying. When I got to a park overlooking the Old City, I saw that the sun was starting to set so I grabbed my handy-dandy prayerbook from my pocket and did the last prayer service of Shavuot overlooking the walls of the Old City. (Whew, that was a lot of praying in twenty four hours!) Back at the hostel I went with Emily over to where Ari was staying and we made havdallah (to separate the holiday from the rest of the week) and then grabbed our stuff and rushed off to the bus station to go back to our regularly scheduled lives.
Wow! What an amazing holiday!
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Ofoto Album of Beit Shemesh
http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=v778iil.7jbwdjyp&x=0&y=z57w0j
Most of these pictures are probably boring for most of you, but here's some pictures from track two of Otzma.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Still Working the Land
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, but as I mentioned earlier, not much exciting happens on a farm. We work very hard, and as May turns to June, the temperature creeps up past one hundred every day. Even so, it's nice to work in Mario's garden because since it's relatively small (six acres) we get to do different work every day. He teaches us as we go, so we now can not only weed and harvest all the different crops, but we also know how to lay the irrigation pipes, hammer stakes, arrange plastic and netting to keep out bugs, and plant and sow various crops. Today we got to walk behind his tractor, helping with a huge tool that unearths onions. I finally have more appreciation for medicine bottles that warn to not take them when operating heavy machinery.
And that's truly as exciting as my daily life gets. Breakfast, work, lunch, work, shower, rest, dinner, check email, sleep. Six days a week. That's another disadvantage to kibbutz life. Although most of Israel is now on a five day work week (Sunday to Thursday), a farm doesn't really ever stop, so we work Sunday to Friday every week. That means a one day weekend, every week. And as my year in Israel is coming to an end, I feel more and more obligated to spend my Shabbats wisely, with people I haven't seen for a while or at places I've never been or will certainly miss.
Also, after working so hard each week, I'd really like to spend all day Saturday sleeping and recharging. But instead I spend my Shabbats with friends all across the country, and I'm usually too busy being a good guest to have time to nap. It's a disadvantage, but probably only because this is the last track of Otzma so I'm starting to feel sad about leaving Israel. I truly love life here on the kibbutz. It's simple and easy, but incredibly enjoyable. I love working hard outside. It's an absolutely beautiful setting and it gives me time to thing about everything under the sun, including why the sun is so hot and wondering why they can't air condition the fields.
This past weekend I signed up for a Shabbaton (Shabbat retreat) with Ta Shma. Ta Shma is the organization that Otzma learned with for three weeks a few months ago, and is also the group I joined for a Shabbaton in the desert during Hanukkah. This Shabbaton was held in the Golan Heights, a very sparsely populated region in the very northern part of Israel known for its beauty, hikes, and agriculture. After working from five thirty in the morning until eight thirty (we got special permission to leave early), my friend and I left the kibbutz to meet the bus taking us to our site. On the bus I saw a dozen people I knew, some from Otzma, some from the previous Shabbaton, and some through mutual friends in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. I knew it would be an amazing weekend.
First we hiked. It was an incredible hike; the Golan is absolutely beautiful in the late spring when everything is still in bloom. We also hiked along a river, stopped to eat lunch and swim in a waterfall, and about five hours later, made it back to the bus. We stayed in a hotel on a kibbutz in the Golan, and as soon as we were changed and unpacked, we began to do the learning for which Ta Shma is famous.
The theme of the weekend was Peace versus Truth, and all the learning sessions were led by three different rabbis from three different "flavors" of Judaism. The teacher/rabbis led the group discussions together and we also spent a lot of time working in pairs over some of the texts they presented. We discussed the how traditional texts viewed situations where peace comes in direct conflict with truth. For example, if your friend baked a cake that tasted awful, and then asked if t was good, what would you say? What if you knew that he was planning on making it again for someone he wanted to impress? The main focus of the Shabbaton was pluralism, which was reinforced by the teacher/rabbis, one Reconstructionist, one "Non-Aligned Traditional," and one Modern Orthodox. Within the context of Peace versus Truth, we discussed the limits of pluralism with regard to diversity and deviance. I know it sounds pretty boring, but I thought the entire weekend was quite exciting.
Saturday afternoon, as an alternate/prequel to the traditional afternoon prayer service, one the rabbis did a mini-workshop on Mincha versus Menucha. Mincha is the name of the afternoon service, meaning "offering," and menucha is the word for rest. We talked about different ideas of offering and rest and then made human collages representing these ideas. It was very cool, to be part of multiple living sculptures, acting out various ideas of life, rest, prayer, and Shabbat with our bodies.. Our last collage tried to show the relationship between mincha and menucha and I realized how much I truly live Shabbat to Shabbat here on kibbutz. Even though I often wake up just as early on Shabbat, and sometimes am even busier than on a weekday, I find myself truly using the day to recharge and prepare myself for the exhausting week ahead. It's so nice to have one day off a week when I know I am not expected to work and sweat and toil in the fields. It really becomes a day of rest when the other six days of the week consist of physical labor.
Other than Shabbats, we also often relax at night here on kibbutz. Along with some of the other volunteers, we sometimes make bonfires when it gets late. Thursday night we stayed up around the fire for hours, singing songs, making s'mores, and baking apples. I've found that all my years in girl scouts have paid off as I can make a fire like nobody's business. This week's fire-building tip: don't wear a skirt, pants are much easier.
Today is Yom Yerushalayim, Jerusalem Day, the day that Jerusalem was reunited during the Six Day War in 1967. There are, presumably, lots of festivities going on in Jerusalem, but here on kibbutz we had our own celebrations, too. Tonight's dinner was falafel which would have been incredibly exciting had they not run out within ten minutes, right before my turn on line. After dinner and a special prayer service, many people gathered together for a very Israeli sing-along. This is something that would never occur in the States, but here almost everyone who gathered to sing folks songs with a quasi-karaoke machine was over thirty. The songs spanned many types and generations, but most of them had to do with Jerusalem. Although I didn't know most of the songs (I knew six out of maybe fifty), I was able to sing along because the words were displayed on a screen. Some lines I caught included,
"I was born in this land / I dreamt of it long before I came here."
"Jews and Arabs live together in quiet and respect / We have no other city."
"I saw a city covered in light that played in me like a flute."
"One hundred generations dreamt of you / To see the light of your face / Jerusalem, Jerusalem / I will not move from here / Jerusalem, Jerusalem."
"Jerusalem of gold, and of bronze, and of light / Behold I am a violin for all your songs."
And from a song about the Western Wall, "There are people with hearts of stone / And there are stones with human hearts."
It was lots of fun, and certainly another event to put down in my book of Israeli Cultural Experiences. However, it's after midnight right now which is way too late, considering what time I wake up in the morning. But hopefully more Cultural Experiences will be waiting for me this weekend. I'll keep you posted!
Monday, May 03, 2004
Calendrical Counterpoint
April 26th - Memorial Day
April 27th - Independence Day
Counterpoint - a contrasting but parallel element, item, or theme
Yom haZikaron, (Memorial Day) began last Sunday night around sundown. At eight pm I was hanging out in the volunteer lounge with some other people, some using the computers, some reading, and some watching TV. Suddenly the sirens started going off. Across the entire country, sirens rang from 8:00 to 8:02, reaching every imaginable recess of the country side. In our lounge, we all immediately stopped what we were doing, stood up, and bowed our heads in silence, remembering the soldiers who have fallen over the years in the defense of Israel. Just as suddenly as they started, the sirens stopped again.
We all then headed over to the dining hall where the kibbutz was doing a program for Yom haZikaron. To the right of the podium was a list of seventeen names. To the left was a map of Israel with light bulbs in various locations. The names corresponded to the members of the kibbutz who had died serving their country throughout Israel's history. The light bulbs represented the places where they had fallen. The hour-long ceremony began with a video montage briefly telling the story of each of the fallen soldiers. Of the seventeen who had died, sixteen were men and one was a woman. They ranged in age from nineteen to forty-five, most dying in the their twenties.
When the video was over, the Kaddish, the traditional Jewish mourner's prayer was recited and followed by El Malei Rachamim, a memorial prayer. Then people began to go to the podium to tell their own stories. The mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and children of these fallen soldiers, all members of this one tight-knit community reminded their neighbors of their relatives' lives cut too short. The reflections were interspersed with some songs and other musical pieces reflecting the somber occasion. At the end of the ceremony, Hatikva, the Israeli national anthem, was sung together as a community.
The next day was a regular day out in the fields. Mario was showing us how to repair a broken hose when the siren started again. He put down his tools, brushed off his hands, and stood at attention. We did the same. For two silent minutes out in the fields I thought about the man standing next to me who had lived through all of Israel's struggles. I thought about the men and woman who had been members of the kibbutz who had died serving their country. I thought about how at that very moment, highway traffic was stopped because every driver had gotten out to stand at attention and in memory. And I thought about how even though everyone else was pausing in reflection, the birds kept chirping and the plants kept growing. The sirens finally stopped and Mario picked up the hose and finished showing us how to fix it.
Late that afternoon the entire kibbutz gathered together on the main lawn between the synagogue and the dining hall. There was another small ceremony remembering those who had died. Then the flag, flying at half-mast, was lowered, and then raised again to the top. The adults went into the synagogue to quickly pray the afternoon and evening services (separating between the two days) while the children had a bike parade around the lawn. Yom haZikaron was over. Yom haAtzma'ut (Independence Day) had begun.
As the adults left the synagogue, the children's bike parade slowed down. [This being a kibbutz, absolutely everyone has a bicycle. After all, it's a huge place, and you need to get around, but no one owns cars. Bikes it is. In fact, even I have a bike that's been loaned to me for while I live here. It's quite hard to get around without one. However, being a bit taller than three feet, I did not participate in the parade.] All the bikes had been decorated with flags and streamers and flowers and even tin foil wreaths bearing the number 56 (Israel's age). They were absolutely adorable.
Our attention was brought back to the outdoor stage where a ceremony of much lighter mood began. There were groups of children singing and dancing, a choir, musical performances, a few brief speeches, and more music. My favorite was a group of second graders who performed the song Rak B'Yisrael (Only in Israel), acting out every scene. Some of my favorite lines (although translated they don't rhyme) included:
The entire nation is in the military reserves - only in Israel.
Volunteers have a good time - only in Israel.
The kibbutz and the moshav - only in Israel.
Jerusalem of gold - only in Israel.
Children must attend kindergarten.
The tree has a birthday.
Parachutists are real parachutists - only in Israel.
And pilots are real pilots - only in Israel.
By the time these adorable seven year-olds had finished performing I was ready to sign the papers and make aliyah (move to Israel) right then. It was just so amazing to be surrounded by such an incredible festive atmosphere where absolutely everyone is truly grateful to be living in their country. So recently after remembering those who had given their lives for the nation, everyone was singing and dancing and celebrating the existence of the State of Israel and the Jewish People. Children were singing songs about their homeland in Hebrew, their native tongue, and yet a language that didn't exist in its modern form only 150 years ago. Everyone was truly moved by the simple fact that they are living on their own land. It's incredible.
The ceremony continued briefly with older kids doing flag maneuvers and tricks on unicycles. Finally everyone headed to the dining hall for a festive meal. As we walked down together, eight hundred strong, it was amazing to look around. Nearly every man, woman, and child was wearing all white or blue and white, and as we walked across the lawn it was almost like an Israeli flag waving across the field. In fact, Israeli flags of every imaginable size were posted on trees, buildings, bikes, golf carts, homes, roofs, and sidewalks. There was no mistaking the pride everyone shared in their country.
After dinner the younger crowds gathered back on the lawn for fireworks. Not the professional ones you may be used to on the Fourth of July. Oh no. These were thrown in the air by ten year-olds where the exploded into beautiful orange star-bursts. The high schoolers dipped their own creations into kerosene, lit them, and them waved them around like some trance party gone wild. After half an hour or so, the younger children headed home and the those of us in our teens and twenties headed over to a makeshift stage where a drum set, guitar, saxophone, and overhead projector were waiting. For the next few hours an informal singalong commenced. A microphone circulated and songs were begun in one of three ways. Either the band began playing a song, someone in the crowd took the mic and started singing, or the person at the projector put words on the screen. As soon as a song was chosen, the band/random soloist/projector would immediately catch up and everyone would begin singing. Presumably this continued for a number of hours, but I eventually went back to my room for some rest.
The next morning nine buses were waiting at the front of the kibbutz gates. Hundreds of kibbutz members boarded the buses and away we went. Many Israelis, especially religious Zionists like those at Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu, feel that the main mitzvah (commandment) of Yom haAtzma'ut is walking the land. So for the holiday, the kibbutz charters buses for its members so they can all go out and hike for an hour or two, truly walking the Land of Israel. After our beautiful hike, we did the true Israeli Yom haAtzma'ut tradition: barbecue!
As the bus returned to the kibbutz, I realized what a true Israeli holiday I had celebrated. I've been in Israel for over eight months now, and I've celebrated many holidays here with both religious and secular Israelis, but these holidays were always Jewish celebrations. For the first time, I was able to celebrate a completely Israeli tradition. Yes, both Yom haZikaron and Yom haAtzma'ut are recognized outside of Israel, but the celebrations always seemed somewhat forced. Celebrating Israeli Independence Day, in Israel, among people who actually fought in the War of Independence, is a truly unforgettable experience. And even if I didn't spend the night in any of the all night parties in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv that Yom haAtzma'ut is known for, I feel like in some ways my experience was, at least for me, even more genuine. After mourning individual members of our community, the sadness turned to joy as I watched children perform in Hebrew while flags waved in every direction. I sang classic Israeli folk songs, hiked down a mountain, and ate my fill of barbecue at a picnic with Israeli radio playing over loudspeakers. This was Israel at its finest.
