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.
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....
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....
