A Last of epic proportions

As promised I am reporting on many of my significant Last Moments, and yesterday I had yet another Last Moment of the most bittersweet sort: my last rehearsal with The Band and our first and last live performance as a group.

Since my second week in Israel I have been playing regularly with a group of four guys known to me as "The Band," for lack of a more interesting name (though we have kicked around a few ideas to amuse ourselves).  My involvement with them began in a moment of pure serendipity, and what started as a lead guitarist's enthusiastic snap decision became the basis of a family that reunited once every week to jam and bring Leonard Cohen, Jefferson Airplane, and Stealers Wheel to life in Israel.  (For the beginning of the saga, read here.)  

Every week (barring holidays or scheduling conflicts) we get together for about three hours to practice our repertoire and have some fun.  It's funny to say we're "practicing" because to me that suggests that we're practicing for something.  Yet in the time I was with these guys we never performed gigs, so our "rehearsals" were more like structured jam sessions that, without admitting it, allowed everyone to forget about anything that was going on in their week and just enjoy themselves with some good friends, good music, and a bottle of wine.

Not only did the guys open me up to a genre of music I've never really listened to all that much, but it opened me to a musical world I've only ever gazed at from afar.  I have always been involved in music - orchestras, concert bands, marching band, musical pit ensembles, quartets - but I've never been in a band.  I've never jammed with drums and bass, never really improvised, and certainly never sang into a microphone that wasn't connected to a monitor with scrolling words.  Nope, for all my musical involvement, I had never had the quintessential rock band experience until coming here.

But like I mentioned, The Band never did gigs, so maybe I was getting an incomplete rock band experience.  Well, we couldn't have that, now could we?  In the week prior to our last practice we suddenly all got an e-mail from our bassist saying that in honor of my last time with them, we were going to put on a short performance for friends and family.  Nothing too special, just something to celebrate and commemorate our hard work and to wish me farewell.

I should have assumed that nothing would go smoothly that night.  We got there late, started setting up, and when the guitarist asked me to tune for him first the top E string broke, then after quickly changing it and retuning it, the low E broke.  Go figure!  But with luck like that we were sure to have a good show.  And we did :)

More people than I expected showed up; we probably had around 20 audience members in the room, including about six from the Ulpan plus our director.  The show went great and the audience even called for two encores which had us playing for nearly 50 minutes, which is a lot for a short concert on a kibbutz at 10:00 at night.  

It was exhilarating.  I'm no stranger to performance, but like I said I've never performed vocally in front of a microphone (karaoke notwithstanding) and y'know what?  I like it!  I'm still not confident that my voice is anything worth applauding over, but boy was it fun!  And because I wasn't looking at sheet music I could actually connect with the audience in a much more personal way.  I didn't care if it wasn't perfect, didn't care if it was a little out of tune or if maybe we weren't perfectly together.  And when I played piano and messed up on one of the chords, big deal!  This kind of truly carefree attitude is something I have been missing from my classical training in which it's easy to lose the feeling amidst the perfection.  Oh, and I even got to improvise a bit.  (Wow, doesn't take much to excite a trained musician, does it?)

Parting from them at 1:00 in the morning was where the "bitter" of the "bittersweet" really came into play.  In the past five months I have not only played piano and sung with the guys, but I have become part of their group, accepted and loved, let in on the jokes, respected for my musical input, and, in short, become their friend.  I even wrote a song for them that unfortunately we didn't have time to play, so we pledged to hold onto it until the day when I come back to Israel.  Someday, somehow, I will find myself back in this country and when I do, I'll come back to Kibbutz Na'an on a Tuesday evening around 9:00 and probably find them playing the same songs we played last night.  And when I come back, even if it's only for that one night, we will jam together again.

Sand through an hour glass and other over-used metaphors

With only seven-and-a-half days left in this country things are rapidly winding down and all the Last Moments are waiting there turn to be noticed and commemorated.  Last Saturday marked my Last Shabbat on the Kibbutz and my Last Opportunity to Go to the Club (which I had every intention of doing but ended up missing completely), last night was [probably] my Last Time Shopping in Rehovot, today marked the important and emotional Last Class with Our Teacher, and there are many more Last Moments ahead of me.  Each one will get their moment in the spotlight where it is potentially overly-cherished, celebrated, and wished farewell.

Saying goodbye to our teacher today was a fairly significant one of the Lasts.  Though we have a few more hours of class before our exam on Thursday our teacher will not be with us for them as she is flying to the U.S. with her son for a couple months of site-seeing and frivolity, so today we celebrated.  We bought her a hilarious thank you/parting gift, I wrote her a special card of my own, and she baked us a cake.  We took pictures, some girls shed a few tears, and we said our goodbyes.  It truly was one of those moments that renewed my faith and desire to be a teacher.

Thursday will be my last full day on the kibbutz and Friday I plan on leaving to travel a bit more before I leave.  Yet despite the fact that the next few days will be filled with packing, organizing, arranging, then traveling, hiking, hanging out, and more traveling, I have surprisingly few things on my mental list of Things I Want to Do Before I Leave Israel.  I suppose that's a good sign indicating that I have, in fact, experienced a lot while here and I'll be ready to go home without feeling as if I missed out on too much.  With the exception of eating at another hummussia and visiting the Banias before I leave, I don't feel there's a lot I absolutely have to do before I leave.  All in all, I'm feeling very fulfilled.

Additionally, one reason I don't feel the urge to do more here may have to do with the incredibly strong force that is homesickness.  Even now it's hard for me to believe that I picked up and flew away from my family and friends for so long, and the allure of seeing them again so soon is almost too much to bear.  Generally speaking I didn't suffer from great bouts of homesickness.  With the exception of the holidays and my birthday I usually kept busy and enjoyed myself enough to justify being so removed from normal life, but when I allow myself to stop and think about it the distance is almost too much to bear, especially when it comes to my friends.  Sure, I've made friends here, but nobody compares to my amazing group at home.  Ya hear that, girls and guy (you know who you are)?  We're only a week away from the most epic reunion we've had yet!

I know this is a short post (Who just exasperatedly said "finally"?), but rest assured there will be more posts coming in the following days.  After all, I have to give each of those Last Moments their well-earned minutes of fame, right?

I'm not alone

I recently discovered a blog written by a women named Maya who made aliyah (moved to Israel) and writes about "How to be Israeli," giving tips and stories and fascinating insights into life in Israel and all its quirks.  (This is the blog that had a post about Israeli pickles which I referenced in my last post.)  She started the blog in 2009 and unfortunately hasn't written since last December, perhaps because she finally feels completely Israeli.  Congratulations to her!

I find her blog hilarious and intriguing because she writes about many of the same things I've either written about or thought.  When I read a post about how to drive like an Israeli entitled "Everyone ELSE on the road is an idiot," I kept mentally pointing at the computer screen while my inner dialogue shouted "That's so true!  That's exactly what they do!"  I may have even legitimately laughed out loud.  Her list of Things *NOT* to do if you want to seem Israeli made me chuckle and then feel a little sheepish as I realized I've actually done some of those things (ignorant American tourist that I am), and her post entitled "How do you pronounce שופרסל?" seemed to read my mind as I, too, have been wondering how to pronounce the name of the giant grocery store chain for five months.

In addition to her sense of humor and fluid, conversational writing style, I love her blog because when I read it I feel like I'm sharing an inside joke, laughing and wondering about all the curiosities of Israeli life from that unique perspective of an outsider spending some time as an insider.  It also gives credence to the things I've been noticing and questioning as if to say "Yeah, I saw that, too.  And I totally know what you're talking about!"

Hers is not the only blog of this sort.  A number of months ago I came across comedian Benji Lovitt's blog that makes a very similar commentary on Israeli life minus the "How to."  His yearly list of things he loves about Israel is especially hilarious to me.

Unfortunately, I realize that many of these things I'm finding hysterical and spot-on are things I may not be able to share with my family and friends who haven't been in Israel, much like how people outside Wisconsin simply don't get what's so important about cheese curds and bubblers (talk about a couple things I definitely can't get in Israel).  In coming here, temporarily living here, and finding my way around this vibrant, hilarious, and confounding culture, I feel as if I have been initiated into a not-so-secret society.  And with that membership comes access to all its inside jokes.

The thing I wonder, though, is if Israelis recognize this or if this is one of those things that only visitors and olim chadashim (new immigrants) talk about.  Do Israelis joke about their own tempers and lack of customer service?  Do they laugh about things that seem inherently funny to me, like English words and names adopted by Hebrew and used in their signs, like the Israeli fast-food chain Burgeranch?  (Never mind the fact that Israelis probably don't know what a "ranch" actually is, and they certainly don't have them here.)  There is no doubt that Israelis have a sense of humor and are constantly making fun of themselves and their lives, but I wonder if, for instance, a native Israeli would read blogs like Maya's and Benji's and find the same humor that I do.

If the blogosphere is any indication then there is a fairly significant community of non-native Israelis who like to comment on Israeli culture.  Apparently I'm not the only one who finds this country fascinating and worth writing about.  Little did I know that when I came here I would not just be joining the community that is Israel, but also the community of non-native Israelis and foreigners who love this country and notice all its faults, foibles, and feats with a loving and accepting eye.

I also wonder if this kind of community exists for new immigrants to other countries.  Are Hispanic immigrants to the U.S. laughing in Spanish about all the funny things in American culture?  Have Americans living in Europe created online communities to discuss and commiserate over those things that are shocking to the American system and psyche?

Or is Israel just that awesome?

Newsflash: Israel isn't paradise

For nearly five months I have regaled you all with stories of glorious experiences in this country, opportunities that I have sought or have seemingly been handed to me on a proverbial silver platter.  Between great food and kind strangers, breathtaking nature and a language that never ceases to amaze me, this experience has been better than I ever could have imagined.  But I don't want anyone to get the mistaken idea that Israel is a Gan Eden-esque paradise with people breaking into song on the streets (they're more likely to break out into arguments), so I present to you yet another list: Things I won't miss when I leave Israel (listed in no particular order).

Things I Won't Miss When I Leave Israel*

1. Bathrooms - I firmly believe Israelis have a lot of their priorities in order - artificial pleasantries low on the list while helping out a stranger is toward the top - but apparently bathrooms haven't even made it on the list.  Maybe I'm just a bathroom snob, but clean bathrooms are one of those little things in life I've learned to count on.  But with the exception of a few over-priced hostels, fancy restaurants, and private homes, good bathrooms in Israel are a rarity.   Especially in public transportation centers, usually they're small with disgusting floors, toilet seats that can give you hepatitis just by looking at them, and no hot water or soap in the sinks.  Toilet paper is a godsend, and believe it or not, sometimes you have to pay for these conditions!  Forget the shekel, where's the nearest bush?
2. Pickles - That's right, I will not miss the pickles.  More importantly, I am really looking forward to some good ol' Milwaukee's Baby Kosher Dill Pickles.  Apparently pickles here are traditionally made from small gherkins and pickled only in saltwater, and I just plum don't like them.  I must admit, I never thought I would actually miss pickles.
3. Intersections - I have yet to figure out exactly how intersections in Israel are engineered, but it makes getting to an opposite corner of a large intersection a time-consuming endeavor.  You see, in the middle of each major street there is a median, and on that median is a walk signal which means that on a single road you have to wait for two walk signals (and yes, you'd better wait for them if you're at all interested in making it to the other side).  If luck is with you both signals will be green at the same time, but otherwise, well, have fun waiting.
4. The Israeli concept of "waiting in line" - Rather, the nonexistent concept of "waiting in line."  You've heard me say that Israelis are impatient and nowhere is that demonstrated better than in any situation where you might expect people to wait in a line - ticket counters, getting onto a bus or train, getting food in the chadar ochel.  Once I had to buy a train ticket at the train station and there was one person in front of me and an old lady behind me.  The moment the person in front left, the 80-some-year-old lady cut in front of me then, mid-transaction, turned around and muttered an unapologetic "Slichah" (Forgive me).  I know that America may be full of false sincerity and superficial manners, but I kind of prefer that when it comes to queues.
5. Customer service - Again, this doesn't seem to rank high on Israeli's priority lists.  Besides, Israelis tend to show you exactly how they feel and if the girl behind the counter at the convenience store making minimum wage isn't interested in her job or her customers, she's not going to put on a smile just to make your Bisli-shopping experience a little more comfortable.  Unfortunately this mindset also extends to restaurants, shops, banks, phone companies, etc.  Oh gosh, could you even imagine the DMV?  The horror!
6. Tile floors - Whether it's because of the heat, the sand, or both, Israeli homes are devoid of carpeting.  Many people have area rugs, but the floors themselves are always tiled or made of some other cold, hard material.  Sure, it's reasonable, but I miss carpeting!  I miss walking around barefoot on fuzzy textures, and I miss not feeling sand under bare feet.  Israel, thumbs up for pragmatism, thumbs down for comfort.
7. Israeli bachurim - That is, guys about my age.  Cocky, over-confident, and ready and willing to hit on anything with a pulse.  I'll admit, the first couple times guys hit on me here I thought I was hot stuff, thinking "Wow!  He's interested in me? Well then, I'd better not turn this opportunity down!  Who knows when this will happen again?"  Turns out that if you're a girl under the age of 30, that opportunity can happen any time you're in public.  Case in point, a guy tried to get my number as I was getting into a taxi.  And it wasn't the taxi driver.  Furthermore, chivalry is utterly ignored here (probably because it doesn't get a guy very far with bullshit-intolerant Israeli women).
8. Ugly cities - Sure I enjoy the amenities of cities like Jerusalem, Haifa, and Tel Aviv, but to be quite honest, there are large portions of every major city that are just plain ugly.  Even the nice areas are replete with abandoned, crumbling buildings covered in graffiti.  It's one of the reasons I don't like spending time in the cities, though admittedly I've never been much of a city girl to begin with.  I've heard, though, that it's not entirely because of laziness to tear them down; apparently any time anyone does a construction project in Israel that would entail digging, there's a significant possibility they'll dig up something of historical or anthropological significance and when they do they have to stop construction, wait for someone to do an archaeological dig, then continue.  Like earlier this year when they were digging up a road in Jaffa and they found remnants of an ancient cistern or aqueduct.  It can end up being a waste of time and money, but that's the price you pay for living on ancient land.
9. Heat - Bet you didn't expect that one, eh?  I come from a cold state that celebrates sunny days and spends most of its year under cloud cover receiving some form of precipitation or another, so imagine my discomfort when in May all precipitation stopped and we were left with humid, boiling temperatures that will only get hotter as the summer rolls along.  Additionally the recommended amount of water per day is 3 liters at minimum, which if I were to even attempt would have me going to the bathroom a few times every hour.  Thank goodness for the lovely mazgan (air conditioner) found in most rooms.  But not all.
10. The incredible sadness that is missing my friends and family - Yeah, yeah, I'm getting sappy.  For as much as I love Israel and my time here, an 8-hour time difference and over 6,000 miles of distance makes for one very homesick traveler.  I have some friends I haven't had more than two conversations with since I've been here and some I haven't talked with at all.  And holidays are the worst because, as I've discovered, it's not where you celebrate, it's who you're with that makes it all worthwhile.  This is, and always will be, my greatest pull away from Israel.

So there we have it.  And y'know what?  This was a really challenging list to make and even required help from my roommate to come up with an even ten.  I can assure you, my list of things I will miss is significantly longer, but I'll save [some of] that for another time.  At least now you know Israel isn't entirely perfect.

______________________________________________

*I have deliberately ignored that whole "Our neighbors want to destroy us" issue.  It's not that I'm ignoring the elephant in the room, but that really it hasn't dampened my spirits while here.  Score one for carpe diem philosophy!

The Many Faces of Israel

Just when I think I know what Israel looks like, I travel to some new corner of this unbelievably tiny country and discover some new facet of its incredibly varied landscape.  I love those moments!

Today the Ulpan had its last day trip, this time to the furthest reaches of the country.  We left the kibbutz shortly after 6:00 AM and drove north, stopping once for a picnic breakfast before arriving in Metula, the northernmost moshavah (like a moshav but even more closely resembling a small town).  In Metula, which is essentially nestled in the borders of Lebanon.  Not necessarily the most comfortable situation, but at least they've got border patrol to help make sure no unsavory people wander into their pretty moshav (and I'm not talking about the Lebanese - there are unsavory Israelis, too).

Nahal Hatzbani

We spent very little time there before heading to Nahal Snir, also called Nahal Hatzbani (the latter is the Arabic name) where we hiked along and through the river on a short path.  I think it took us less than a couple hours but it was fun and absolutely beautiful, yet again.  This time the river was much larger and stronger than the ones I've been on previously, and had a number of small waterfalls feeding it from the sides. This was the kind of place I would love to see with a little more solitude.  Maybe someday...

Jordan River

After taking a dip in the river at the end of the trail, we went back to the bus, changed quickly so as not to drench the seats, then made the short drive to the Jordan River for kayaking.  With the exception of one itty-bitty little fall of about a meter, the river was wide and calm and rather forgiving when most of us had no idea how to paddle the large rafts.  I'll admit, I thought my paddling skills were pretty decent considering my experience paddling canoes from my camp days, but a raft is not a canoe and four people in a boat is different than two.  Alas, we did get turned around a couple times.

Upon reaching the finish line we piled out of our rafts and kayaks and enjoyed a lunch buffet of salads and fresh pizza cooked on-site.  Our Ulpan director is all about surprises and we were all content with this day's tasty surprise.  So we sufficiently stuffed our faces, changed into dryer clothes, then got on the bus and fell asleep for the three-hour ride back home.

The Cottage Cheese Lesson

As my time left in Israel ticks away at a rate which I am convinced is faster than three months ago (thank you, Warped Perspective), I like to reflect on my experiences and make lists of the plethora of new things I've done, things I've enjoyed, people I've met, and so on.  One of my mental lists is "Foods Israel Taught Me to Love," and I would like to share this list with you, in all its glory.  Enjoy!

Foods Israel Taught Me to Love

1. Cottage Cheese - I'm told the dairy products and white cheeses in Israel are better than they are in the U.S., but I come from the Dairy State so I feel this is a blasphemous presumption.  Still, I never dared to try this lumpy stuff when I was at home but was convinced to try it here.  Turns out I love the stuff (5% is my favorite), and I'm warned I will be disappointed when I go home.
2. Peppers - I don't know why, but I never really appreciated red, orange, and yellow peppers at home. I would eat them, but I would never choose to put them in something on my own.  I just didn't enjoy them as much.  Now, however, I love peppers.  One of my favorite things to do is slice them up and saute them with olive oil and a little salt and eat them just like that.  Maybe it's just that I never cared for green peppers, which are significantly less tasty.  When I get home, no more of this "saving a couple cents on the cheaper green peppers" business.  Bright, colorful peppers all the way!
3. Israeli Salad - Keep in mind that this list is about things Israel taught me to love.  Ever since my taste buds have accepted vegetables as a permissible food group, I have learned to enjoy salad in one form or another.  Generally speaking I don't like lettuce (tastes bitter to me), so I can usually only enjoy a regular salad with at least a minimal amount of salad dressing.  Traditional Israeli salad, on the other hand, is made with a base of finely chopped tomatoes and cucumbers tossed in olive oil, then people add what they like.  I have decided that not only have I become a master of making Israeli salad but that mine is the best (please ignore the yelling Israelis behind me - they don't know what they're talking about).  In addition to the necessary tomatoes and cucumbers, mine must have yellow, red, or orange bell peppers and a little bit of onion, plus salt and pepper.  I can make a full plate of this stuff in a little over five minutes if I have a good knife (still working on cutting my time), and this is a staple I will be adding to my diet in the U.S.
4. Regular, unsweetened yogurt - The trick to enjoying this is mixing it with honey.  At the beginning of the Ulpan I found a big jar of unused date honey which I quickly appropriated as my own and use to make a breakfast of unsweetened yogurt with granola.  Add some finely chopped apples or pears and I have myself a most delicious and healthy breakfast.
5. Shakshouka - Admittedly there was no teaching involved in this one aside from the lesson of its existence.  How is it that I'd never before heard of such a simple recipe?  Chopped tomatoes, peppers, garlic, onions, and spices to make a sauce, then crack an egg into the middle of it and let it cook.  Fifteen minutes for heaven in a sauce pan.  
6. Tea - A year ago I hated tea.  Every single tea I ever tried I thought tasted like, well, hot flavored water, and that was not appealing to me.  Last semester I found an herbal tea that I fell in love with, but only because of its intense flavor and scent.  In Israel (and the Middle East in general), not liking tea is a sin even greater than not liking coffee (no matter the temperature outside), so in order to avoid the looks of shock and disgust upon turning down an offer for a cup of tea with dessert, I tried more.  As it turns out, it is actually quite permissible to add sugar and, if it's black tea, milk.  Tried a bit of that and Voila!  Another beverage in my diet.
7. Nana - Also known as spearmint, fresh nana leaves are added to either hot water or lemonade to make some amazingly refreshing drinks.  Though I like mint I never liked mint leaves in anything, but that's because the mint at home is usually peppermint.  Spearmint, on the other hand, is one of my favorites, and I love using it here.  Now to find a spearmint plant at home... At least I know that Wissotzky offers Nana Tea which, if not found in stores, I can order online.
8. Halva - I remember trying this sesame dessert once at home and hating it, but that was probably around ten years ago and I figured it might be worth trying again.  And y'know what?  If you can appreciate the somewhat gritty consistency it's actually really good.  Dangerously so.  The scale can attest to that.
9. Grated Tomatos - Yup, you read that right, and it's exactly what you think it is.  Take a few tomatoes, cut them in half, then run them up and down the side of a box grater.  What you get is a tomato-y pulp which is really good on its own or spiced with basil.  Unfortunately, the only contexts in which I've eaten this glorious condiment were with malawach and jachnun, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get those in the States.  But I'm sure I'll find some excuse to make grated tomatoes.  Maybe with blintzes?  A light tomato sauce for pasta?  A new chip dip?  Condiment for scrambled eggs?  The possibilities are endless!
10. Hard-boiled eggs - Just because this list needs an even ten, I'm including this.  I think this is one of those situations where my taste buds just changed, but Israelis love their hard-boiled eggs and now I do, too.  Interestingly enough, despite the fact that they often have hard-boiled eggs in their diet, I have never seen egg salad here.  Go figure.

So there we are, my list of 10 Foods Israeli Taught Me to Love.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go devise an intense workout plan and diet for when I get home...

Jump in!

In an effort to get as much out of my last few weeks here, a friend and I went on a great trip Friday afternoon through Saturday to the Nahal El Al (El Al Stream) in the southern Golan Heights, near the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee).  On Friday we rented a car, drove to a campsite near the hiking trail, pitched a tent and enjoyed a dinner of grilled hot dogs and peppers with a bottle of wine and a loaf of challah (it was Shabbat, after all), and copious amounts of conversation ranging a wide variety of topics both erudite and mundane, philosophical, introspective, and just plain fun.

Mapal Shachor

The next day we had a light breakfast then packed up and headed to the beginning of the Nahal El Al trail.  Being a weekend the trail was packed with hikers and families seeking a dip in the cool waters of the stream.  We started by descending into the river's ravine then hiked along its bank - fighting thistles and reeds the whole way - until we reached the first of two waterfalls, the Mapal Shachor (Black waterfall).  The area surrounding the pool was crowded with people and we eagerly joined them, though had to scale a rock wall to do it (thank goodness for metal handles driven into the stone).  My friend wasted no time in wading into the frigid water, and I hesitantly followed him.  Finally he convinced me to jump in, so I stripped to my swimsuit, left my camera at a safe distance from the water, and after a little more convincing, submerged.

It was freezing, but absolutely wonderful.  Do you know, this is the first time I have ever swam in a waterfall-fed pool of fresh water?  It was amazing!

I made the jump!  (Even though my
friend couldn't get evidence
of the jump itself.)

We got out, dried off a bit, then continued on our hike until we reached another deep pool further along the river.  Here, the best way in was to jump from the rocks on the side directly to the middle of the pool which was just deep enough to do a decent cannonball.  Again, it took a little convincing, but I managed to add yet another first to my growing list of experiences in Israel: jumping into a natural pool from a rock ledge.  Not very high, but still an accomplishment and worthy of comment in my mind.

After drying a bit on the hot, white stone ledge and talking with an Israeli hiker, we picked ourselves up and kept going until we reached the Mapal Lavan, the White Falls.  This was a significantly more impressive waterfall in terms of its height, but had less shade surrounding it in comparison to the Black Falls.  To reach the pool below we had the convenience of stairs that had been carved into the descending path, and when we got to the bottom we found a spot to enjoy a lunch of peanut butter, fruit, granola bars, and tuna.  A lovely combination, don't you think?

Mapal Lavan

After the White Falls we turned around the way we had come and without stopping the return hike was very short.  But we were tired and we had a three-hour drive ahead of us (which turned into more because of heavy traffic).

The entire weekend I couldn't stop thinking about how happy I was to be experiencing all this.  Hiking, swimming, seeing waterfalls, road-tripping - all these things I never do at home.  Why is it that it isn't until I travel halfway around the world that I push myself to have these experiences, many of which I could have at home?  I can only hope that I continue to push myself to explore more of my own home once I return and discover similarly wonderful things.

Like a dream

Out of nowhere a triple realization struck me with a force and clarity I could not have anticipated:

In one month, I will no longer be in Israel.

In one month, I will be home.

In one month, I will no longer be home.

In the last couple weeks I have met new people and had wonderful experiences that have lifted my spirits and given me yet more reason to love this already astounding adventure.  A few weeks ago a new girl about my age moved to the kibbutz and joined us at the factory and we immediately became friends.  A few days later I met a girl at the pub who is originally from Canada but just finished her Israeli army service and also lives on the kibbutz - yet another new friend.  I met a wonderful guy hitchhiking and thanks to him got my opportunity to see an Israeli wedding - new friend number three (and possibly more).

I intend to pack as much as I can into these remaining four weeks.  Planning on hiking in the desert this weekend, I'll hike at least twice more in the Golan Heights, hopefully at least one more trip to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv each, and I have to get to Safed yet.  And while I'm doing all that I will be cramming in every last bit of Hebrew knowledge I can while I'm still surrounded by people speaking it.  I will also continue to try every new and unique food and dessert that I can because life is too short to say no to good food from another country, gosh darnit!  So what if I'll have to work extra hard to get rid of its not-so-wonderful effects on my tummy?  It'll be worth it.

Even after four months here, I have moments where immense feelings of gratitude rush through my thoughts, my feelings, my veins, and I am filled with the breathtaking realization that I am living a dream.  Two years ago while sitting in a hotel room in Jerusalem toward the end of my Birthright trip to Israel, I wrote in my journal that I would come back to Israel someday.  I also wrote a prayer that this would not end up like the many similar promises I've made to myself throughout my life, but that this would come to fruition and that I would actually follow through.  As I talked about this dream more, voicing it to friends, family, and acquaintances, it became increasingly more concrete and blurred the arbitrarily imposed lines between reverie and reality.  At every step of the pre-journey journey - applying and getting accepted to the program, finalizing details, buying my plane tickets, getting my visa - I got a little more excited and renewed my own faith in my plans.  And at every step, I thought to myself "I can't believe I'm doing this."

A couple weeks before I left I spoke to a friend on the phone and with apprehension, trepidation, and excitement in my voice I asked him, "Who is this girl?  This person who, in two weeks' time, is hopping on a plane alone to fly to another country for five months?  This surely isn't me."

But here I am, flesh and blood, mind and heart, sitting in 28 degree (82 degrees F) weather, looking out at hibiscus bushes and a tree with purple flowers, listening to bird song occasionally accompanied by the soft rustle of leaves in a breeze, enjoying a calm day before we celebrate the holiday of Shavuot, and the thought that permeates my mind is:

"I am so lucky to be living my dream.  I am in Israel, and I love it."

Who knows where my path will lead?

Alas, this dream will come to an end in precisely 28 days and I will be on my way back home to be with the family and friends I miss so much.  But at the same time I am flying towards one home I will be leaving another - a paradox of the most heart-wrenching sort.

People keep asking me if I'm planning on making aliyah so that I can live in Israel and to every one of them I say "I don't know."  I know I will go back to the U.S. in July and graduate with my degree next spring.  But quite frankly, I know nothing after that.  I refuse to let myself make plans because the reality is that in my time here I have fallen in love with this country in new and profound ways that will ensure it always has a role in my future.  The trouble is I don't know exactly how.

One of the many things I have been learning here in addition to Hebrew, Israeli culture, and how to make the perfect Israeli salad is how to trust, how to have faith, which surprisingly is something I severely lacked throughout much of my life.  Despite the fact that this has not been a specifically religious experience (if my difficulties keeping Kosher here are any indication), I feel it has given me the opportunity to grow as a Jew and, more importantly, as a human being.  I feel more calm, more secure, more trusting that while perhaps not all things can be explained, some things do in fact happen for a reason.

So even though I don't know exactly what will happen in the future, I'm okay with that.  And since I don't know, I guess I'll just have to enjoy every last moment of this dream before I step on a plane and wake up.

Kol chatan v'kol kalah

Wow, Israeli weddings are crazy.  Colorful, extravagant, boisterous, full of amazing food, and crazy.  That is, if the one I went to on Thursday night is any indication of the norm.

Quick back story:  I met a guy last Friday who invited me out with him, and when we were trying to set a date I said that I was free on Thursday but he told me his best friend was getting married that evening.  Lucky for me he invited me to come as his date, and I'm very glad I accepted!

The moment I saw the bride and groom in their waiting/green/pre-wedding room (really don't know what it should be called) I knew this would be quite an experience.  The bride's dress was replete with sequins and Swarovski crystals (real or not, don't know) and the groom - also dressed in traditional white - had eye-catching designs and silver embroidery throughout his outfit.

The rabbi was late and the ceremony didn't start until after 9:00 pm, but once we got the word that everything was ready we made our way to the roof of the banquet hall where a giant chuppah (wedding canopy) and stage were set up on the Astroturf-covered ground.  Food was being grilled and heated around the perimeter and people milled about, talking and shmoozing contentedly.  I was incredibly thankful for the gold and black dress (from a friend), black and silver shoes, and gaudy earrings I sported because the guests were dressed to their best.  Women had their hair done, sparkles and shiny things were nearly blinding, and I don't think the word "cotton" could be found as a primary fabric on a single person's outfit.

What happened next is utterly inexplicable to me, which means it will be impossible for me to explain to you.  Jewish wedding ceremonies by their very nature are short - typically 15 minutes at minimum - and additional length is dependent on whether or not there are speeches or other additions to the standard ceremony.  This particular ceremony was on the shorter side, but what it lacked in length it made up for in special effects and pomp: giant shofars, sparklers, synthesized background music, their own talented Mizrahi singer (Middle Eastern vocal genre), the whole nine meters (totally getting into this whole "metric system" thing).

Me with the bride!

Once the small wedding party was situated where they should be under the wedding canopy, guests who were standing alongside the stage jumped onto it and stood right alongside the cameramen whose large lenses were only a couple arm-lengths away from the couple.  We all had our cameras and phones out, taking pictures and video as the ceremony hectically progressed.  Occasionally I looked out at the rest of the guests and noticed that many were not paying attention to what was going on with those two people dressed all in white.  Thus I came to the following conclusion about this particular wedding:  The ceremony, the actual marriage was not the most important part of that evening.

Following the ceremony we departed and regrouped on one of the floors of the banquet hall where we were greeted by the newlyweds and their families, along with music, lights, cameras, and tons of tables laden with an extensive variety of salads and appetizers.  We sat and started digging in, then when we saw the couple dancing some of us joined them on the dance floor.  I ate, I danced, came back and ate some more, went to dance again, and sometimes went back to the table to rest or talk to my date's friends.  Surprisingly, even though I had already eaten salads and fish and chicken kabobs, more food was brought to me every time I sat down!  It just kept coming!  And it was all incredibly delicious.

We danced and enjoyed ourselves until the DJ stopped the music around 1:30, at which point we were all far more exhausted than we let ourselves believe.  I left with my date, the newlyweds, and the bride's sister, dropped them off at the bride's apartment in Ramla, then got a ride back to the Ulpan.  What a night.

I was told that if I ever had the opportunity to go to an Israeli wedding I absolutely had to and I'm very glad I went, but I must admit that this is not the kind of wedding I would ever want for myself.  In telling another friend about it she aptly described it as more of a "production" than a celebration, and she was absolutely correct.  The focus was not on the joyous marriage between two people in love but rather on the experience, the music, the lights, the special effects.  I didn't feel there was anything innately intimate about the wedding and, most significantly to me, I didn't feel the emotion I thought I might.  I always get teary-eyed at weddings, but aside from a moment or two during the ceremony I felt nothing of that sort.  I was a little disappointed in that respect.

Of course, I understand that weddings are different for everybody and Israel is also not the same as the U.S.  I would love to see more weddings in Israel to get a better feeling for the traditions of the general populace and see how they compare to one another.  Some people told me that this wedding is standard in some ways among the Sepharadim in Israel while others said it was more over-the-top than most, and I know that it's impossible for a single wedding to be an example of all the weddings in a particular country.  As such I ask that you do not form an opinion of all Israeli weddings based on my recounting alone.

Overall, I'm incredibly happy I went and had that fun, exciting experience.  Add that to the long list of things I've done in Israel that I never expected to do!