I'm home!

Greetings from Israel!  Or should I say, Shalom!

Now that I'm fully awake and feeling a little more refreshed, let me tell you about my travels which were, with the exception of the taxi ride, blissfully uneventful (keep reading for the taxi story).

The flight from Toronto to Tel Aviv was 11 hours, plus however long it took us to leave the airport (deicing was involved) and get to our gate at Ben Gurion Airport.  Needless to say, it was long.  Then the Passport Check was excruciatingly long for no apparent reason.  Long and hot.  I think my backpack gained ten pounds in that line.

Got my luggage with no problem (and it hadn't been destroyed), was able to get a cart for free, and made my way to the taxis.  Now here's where it gets interesting:

I managed to get the taxi with the one driver who spoke no English AND didn't know where the kibbutz was.  It seemed as if he hadn't ever heard of it.  I tried to tell him it was near Rehovot so he put that into his GPS and away we went.  In between saying my mantra "Trust the driver, trust the driver" while going around sharp turns near other cars, I thought "Well, if he drops me at Rehovot I guess I'll just have to find another taxi.  Or call my mom's friends who live there.  One way or another I'll get there, no need to worry.  Beseder."

Once we got near Rehovot there was a sign for Na'an (where my Kibbutz is) which he pointed out then put in his GPS.  Still, he ended up asking four or five other drivers if they knew how to get to the kibbutz and FINALLY we made it.  Thankfully, he only charged me the fair to Rehovot which was about $34.  Not too bad.

I was only the second Ulpan student to arrive, though as of last night there were seven here total, including myself.  One girl is from Germany (though originally from Russia), and she speaks rather fluent English.  She recognizes a need to work on it more so she's glad I'm here to practice with, but she's quite comprehensible.  There's a group of four from Argentina who speak Spanish almost exclusively.  One of the boys among them speaks enough English to converse and he's acting as a sort of translator for the rest of them.  Later yesterday evening another girl came from Zurich, Switzerland, whose English is also pretty good.  She even speaks a little French and some conversational Hebrew already.

This morning a French girl came and I'm told she doesn't speak any English, so hopefully I can meet up with her soon and introduce myself.  I'll get to practice French and she'll get a translator - a win-win in my book.

(Oh, that reminds me.  I met a lovely French Canadian woman in the Toronto airport and we had a pleasant conversation entirely in French.  I'm kind of glad we didn't sit near one another on the plane, though, because my brain would not have lasted 11 hours in a foreign language.)

As for the kibbutz itself, there's little to report.  From what I can tell it's a pretty big space with the Ulpan situated at the furthest point from where I came in.  I've only seen a couple kibbutz workers other than our Ulpan director.  Overall, things are pretty quiet where we are.  And I'll admit, it's not quite the idyllic Garden I had created in my mind; it reminds me rather of Camp Interlaken - muddy but fresh, the buildings old and filled with a miscellany of furniture and other items, none of them matching but creating the type of atmosphere that gives true meaning to the Hebrew phrase "Beseder" ("it's okay/alright").  For those who don't know, beseder perfectly characterizes the Israeli persona.

I don't get the Internet connection in my room and I forgot to bring my camera with me to the moadon (lounge, though I don't know if that's a direct translation) so I'll upload the pictures of my room later when I tell you more about the kibbutz itself.  In the meantime, just imagine something tiny.