How's Israel?

My favorite question, and the hardest to respond to, this is the one thing my friends and family are sure to ask every time we talk.  "How's Israel?"  How can one possibly respond to that succinctly?

I realize most of my posts of late have been about holidays or history (or both) with little description of the daily activities that make this experience what it is, and some of you may be reading this thinking "Sure, that's all well and good, but how's Israel?"

(At least I like to pretend that's what you're thinking.)

Before answering that question I have to make one very simple but very significant distinction:  Israel is not the same as the Ulpan - they are two different worlds entirely, complete with different languages, types of people, experiences, and various other qualities, separated by this thing called a "kibbutz" in the middle.  To give you an idea of the differences, a simple list should suffice:

Ulpan (based on averages and overall impressions)
Primary Languages: Spanish, English
Median age: 18 years
Popular music choice: Kumbia, Latin pop
Free time activities: sunbathing, partying, napping, yelling
Most common meals (outside of dining hall): anything heated up from a frozen package (schnitzel, pizza, etc.);     pasta; rice; hard-boiled eggs; anything with chocolate

Israel
Primary Languages: Hebrew, English (Arabic and Russian, too)
Median age: 29.4 years
Popular music choice: American pop, Mizrahi, anything on the Galgalatz radio station
Free time activities: having not spent too much time off the kibbutz, I'm not so sure.  Napping?  Shoe shopping?  Yelling?
Most common meals: hummus; falafel; shawarma; Israeli salad; schnitzel; anything with chickpeas, sunflower seeds, or sesame; hard-boiled eggs; anything with chocolate

As you can tell, there are some similarities between the two.  In either case you can generally count on some amount of English by most of the population, schnitzel and chocolate are loved by all (though not at the same time), and yelling seems to be something of a favorite pastime for Israelis and Ulpanistim alike.  But the two are definitely different and at times - when I'm in class or at lunch or sitting in my room blogging - I am convinced the Ulpan is not even part of Israel, and that it is not until I get away from the Ulpan, cross the kibbutz, and step off of it that I enter into the country I thought I'd been in all along.

I am feeling the undeniable urge to be brutally honest and the truth is, I'm getting a little sick of the Ulpan.  Don't get me wrong, I love my teacher, my work, and learning a new language, but learning, working, eating, and (trying to) relax[ing] with 24 of my not-always-closest-friends is getting a little tiring.  Alright, a lot tiring.  I'm sure you can understand such frustrations, especially coming from the unsociable nerd I am.  (I still don't understand how Kumbia and cheap Vodka are still so appealing to some of my comrades.)

Israel, on the other hand, is awesome.  It's getting hotter so I am incredibly thankful that the kibbutz pool is open and I've been making great use of the area roped off for laps.  I am still in love with the rude and gruff Israelis who surprise me at every turn and I'm looking forward to doing more traveling in my last seven weeks in the country (wow, can't believe that's all that's left!).  As my Hebrew improves I get increasingly more eager to test myself among the natives, and my favorite compliment is, unquestionably, "You've only been here over three months?!  Mitzuyan!  Where did you learn Hebrew before?  You didn't?  That's impressive!" . . .or any variation thereof.

I'm happy with the things I've done, the people I've met, the experiences I've had in Israel thus far.  Let's add some of them up, shall we?

• Been to the Tel Aviv Opera
• Saw Victor Wooten perform in Tel Aviv
• Hiked two portions of the Israel Trail
• Stayed in hostels in Jerusalem and Haifa
• Been through at least four "Old Cities" (Jerusalem, Akko, Yafo, Ramla)
• Bought three wrap skirts and two pairs of Thai Fisherman's Pants (which I'll just refer to as "Israeli pants" even though they're not)
• Eaten plenty of falafel, shawarma, pita, and hummus, but I'm nowhere near done tasting all of that
• Traveled to and stayed in a few kibbutzim and moshavim around the country
• Met, talked to, and befriended complete strangers
• Hitchhiked
• GOTTEN TAN!  BY ACCIDENT!

The kibbutz itself has also afforded me some wonderful experiences, such as meeting Shoshi and her family, and more recently the Nadav family, all of whom feed me gratuitously and offer me unsolicited hospitality in ways that only Israelis know how:  "Just come over for some nes cafe any time you want!"  And just in case my mom or any other Jewish mommies back home are worried I'm not eating enough, fear not: the Jewish imahot here wouldn't dare let such an atrocity happen.  (I've come to terms with the fact that I've got some serious gym-work ahead of me when I get home.)

Another wonderful kibbutz surprise:  On Thursday night I went to the pub (which I just about never do) and serendipitously met a Canadian girl turned Israeli who just finished her army service and is living on the kibbutz for another month before going home to visit, then moving to Jerusalem.  Turns out she's been here the whole time, at least when she wasn't on her base, and I never met her!  Well, I suppose it's not that much of a surprise; after all, it is a pretty big kibbutz and she was only home on weekends.  Anyway, she's a little older than me and, well, I think I made a friend :).  (Funny how no matter what age I am a new friend always makes me a little giddy.)

And these recent kibbutz surprises come right when I needed it most, just as I was reaching my threshold of patience for the Ulpan and some of its members.  I guess if you're patient enough, some of the things you need in life can find their way to you.  You just have to keep your eyes, mind, and heart open.

So how's Israel, you ask?  

It's wonderful!

Just as long as I don't have to spend too much time on the Ulpan.

Traveling in the North, Part I: Take my breath away

Note: I have added a Maps section where I have posted maps of the various kibbutzim and towns I have visited in Israel throughout this program.  It will be updated as I travel and should serve as a reference for the places I mention.


Another note:  I have updated Flickr with some photos that are also posted on Facebook albums, and the Photos page has a link to the newest Facebook photo album from my trip to Northern Israel.
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Last Wednesday afternoon I excitedly embarked on a self-organized journey in Northern Israel where I planned to spend my few days of chofesh, vacation, before Pesach (Passover).  I have a few contacts in the North and figured it would be a wonderful way to see them and some of the country, and it would cut down on expenses since I wouldn't have to pay for hostels.  After riding on a multitude of trains, buses, shared taxis, and strangers' cars, and hiking through kilometers of roads, fields, paths, and city streets, I can confidently say I had a wonderful - albeit exhausting - time!

I planned first to stay with a woman whose number was given to me by a member of my synagogue.  I contacted her and she was more than happy to host me at her house, even though it was a couple days before Pesach and she was hurrying to finish cleaning and preparing.  Of course, that didn't stop her from being a wonderfully gracious hostess, yiddishe mama (Jewish mother), and personal tour guide from the moment she picked me up near Tiberias.  As we drove to her moshav (explanation to come), she pointed out all the mountains, valleys, and explained their history and significance.  "You can see Tzfat on that hill, that's the Upper Galilee over there, those two cliffs are like that because they separated when the tectonic plates shifted.  Oh, let's stop here so you can get a picture!"  You get the idea.

She also told me all about her moshav on Mount Arbel.  For reference, a moshav is a uniquely Israeli type of community or settlement developed in the early 1900s during the Second Aliyah, a period of time when a large number of Jews immigrated to Israel.  Moshavim share many qualities with kibbutzim such as their agricultural traditions and close, supportive environment.  However, land and homes on traditional moshavim (plural) are generally privately owned and operated unlike traditional kibbutzim which share everything.  As we drove through the moshav, she pointed out her neighbors' olive groves, orange trees, almond trees, and other crops. Some families had livestock as well, and she told me about how her husband's parents had had a dairy farm on the moshav which they'd sold ten years prior.  Today, many on the moshav do work outside in nearby towns or cities but the community maintains its unique and comfortable atmosphere.

We drove into one section of the moshav that had been developed by and for the second- and third-generation moshavnikim (moshav citizens).  How beautiful it was to drive down the quiet road lined on both sides by quaint houses tucked behind tall trees and blooming gardens!  Behind my hostess's house were a line of fruit trees - pomegranate, pomelo, shesek, orange, clementine, and - of course - a grape vine.  The house itself was of a comfortable size with large windows letting in morning sun and a magnificent view of the Arbel and Nitai mountains.  Can you imagine a more perfect way to wake up?

The adjective "breathtaking" is often used to describe views of beauty, but rarely have I experienced something truly breathtaking.  In the past I would use the word because it seemed appropriate but without ever knowing that something could, in fact, take your breath from you.  Upon looking at the amazing views surrounding the entire kibbutz, I was stunned at how suddenly the word "breathtaking" became the most accurate description of what I saw.  Soft rolling hills of green speckled with the yellow and pink of Spring, larger heights and mountains to the North and East proudly standing guard over this precious land, the white stone city of Tzfat sitting serenely atop a mountain in the distance and sparkling with light as Day imperceptibly gave way to Night . . . all was breathtaking.

Needless to say, I was incredibly excited to see more of this part of the country on my hike the following day.  Little did I realize, though, that my plans might change so dramatically . . .

Jewish Mommies

After yesterday's excitement, I decided a fun Shabbat (with a more light-hearted blogpost) was in order.  I could dwell on the politics of Wisconsin, or even more pressing, the recent catastrophe in Japan (which kind of puts things in perspective, don't you think, Wisconsonites?)  But this is not a political or current events blog nor do I want it to turn into such.  That being said, I feel at least a few words about Japan are in order:

I heard about the tsunami a few hours after it occurred, and I was utterly shocked, to put it mildly.  I simply don't know how to react in such circumstances.  What can you possibly say?  Then tonight I watched video footage on the chadashot (news) which left me utterly speechless and horrified.  To know that so many people's lives were so immediately and definitively altered, even destroyed, is beyond comprehension.  Let us all pray or hope or wish for a return to normalcy and safety for those in Japan and the Pacific, and let us further count our innumerable blessings.

Tonight I went to services and, as I have begun to expect, was invited to dinner.  However tonight it wasn't to be at my Israeli mom's house (her name is Shoshi, by the way), but at her friends' whom I met last week around her table.  But after services and before going to dinner we stopped at Shoshi's house where she insisted I put on warmer clothes.  Apparently a calf-length skirt, long-sleeved shirt, knitted poncho, and fleece jacket isn't enough in "winter" (or what passes as winter in Israel.  Psh.  They don't know what they're talking about).  So I came back tonight with a pair of socks, thick winter leggings, a sweater, and a winter jacket, all of which she told me to keep.  Despite the fact that I told her I really wasn't cold, she refused to believe me.  "You know, a mother can sense how a child feels," she told me.  "And you need warmer clothes.  I don't care if you're used to colder than this."  And that was that.  End of discussion.

Dinner at her friends' house was pleasant, with warm food and friendly company, as always.  We left early because Shoshi has a busy day tomorrow, and in all fairness I wanted to take a nap before going to the club tonight.  Yes, I'm going.  A couple girls here have convinced me to go, seeing as I haven't been there since the first weekend.  But upon returning to the Ulpan I discovered that a nap is absolutely out of the question since the Ulpan has apparently been overrun with Latin Americans.  I'm not sure who they all are, but I'm under the impression they're friends of today's birthday girl (one of the students from Argentina).  And if the students here are any indication then Latin Americans love to party and make noise, which means no sleep for me!  I guess that's what Saturday will be for.

I'm actually looking forward to going to the club tonight.  What with politics and a few other things, I've been getting a little bogged down in heavy thoughts and I need a night of dancing to horrible, loud music with a good beat and lots of people around me.  But don't worry, Mommies and Daddies everywhere, I'll be safe.  I promise.  And I'll make sure to wear a warm jacket.  :)

Home away from home

No matter where you are in the world, a Jewish mother is a Jewish mother to everyone regardless of familial affiliation.  For those who are unfamiliar with Jewish mothers, here are some basic rules and guidelines:

1.  Never say no to an offer for a meal.
2.  Never say no to an offer for more food at said meal.
3.  Never say no when offered a ride home at night because "It's dark out and I'll  never forgive myself if something were to happen!"

Last night I went to Friday night Shabbat services where I sat next to the same woman from last week (whose name I've only heard once and have since entirely forgotten).  Middle-aged and very kind, she asked me about my week, told me about her husband who works in China and had just returned home for the week, mentioned her job as a lawyer, and invited me for dinner, all before services began.  After services she introduced me to her husband and we walked to their house on the kibbutz.  I talked with the husband for a bit and he told me about his job in pharmaceuticals and how he recently started working in China - four weeks there, two weeks here.  He seems to like it, though.

At their house we found their daughter and son-in-law with their own adorable six-month-old baby who was apparently fascinated by me.  "Ani chadashah!  Mah?  Mah?" I said to him while he continued to stare at me with the most intense and inquisitive gaze I've ever seen on an infant.  We waited patiently for the other guests to arrive while Mrs. Kind Israeli Woman finished the salads.  Her daughter told me that as a student of the current Ulpan, I should consider myself adopted.  Apparently with every Ulpan (and there are two per year), this woman brings home at least one or two students and "adopts" them into her family, offering them a meal any Shabbat they don't have other plans.  One of the other guests coming that night was adopted from last year's Ulpan at this time and had since made aliyah (moved to Israel and become a citizen), and the daughter told me about one of the first adopted girls who, fifteen years later, has a husband and child and still keeps in touch with this family.

By the time we sat down for dinner there were nine of us, including another couple (another daughter and son-in-law?) and their son (not the adopted one).  Dinner itself was a spectacular feast of various salads, two rice dishes, stuffed peppers, beef, chicken, and probably a few other things that I didn't see across the table.  We sang Shalom Alechem, made kiddush and hamotzi, then dug in.  It was glorious!  I didn't realize until that moment how much I was missing a good home-cooked meal.

I was thankful to have the ex-Ulpan guy there since he grew up in Australia and thus had no trouble speaking English with me.  Meanwhile, everyone else spoke Hebrew and despite the whole five days of classes I've had so far, I could barely understand a word.  That's alright.  It was enough for me to be in their presence.  On Shabbat.  In Israel.

After dinner I helped clear the table with everyone else, then we sat down for a dessert of fruit salad, nuts, cookies, and rugelach.  Per Israeli custom on Shabbat, the TV was turned on.  I watched a couple news segments in between talking to Mr. Australia-turned-Israel, who told me some fascinating things about Israeli politics, social structure, and customs.  And he told me about the amazing phenomenon whereby Christmas and Easter go completely unnoticed.  He's making a convincing case for making aliyah. ( But don't worry - my degree would be worthless here, so I'm not really considering it).

My attention back on the TV, I noticed how wonderfully strange it was to hear news casters signing off with a Shabbat Shalom on national television.  Once the news was over, the channel was changed to the Israeli version of Saturday Night Live.  I thought "Oh goodness, everyone will be laughing but I won't have a clue as to what's going on."  Wrong!  Sure, maybe I couldn't understand the words, but the make-up, music, backgrounds, characters, and mannerisms were hilarious in and of themselves.  If Israelis know how to do anything, it's make fun of themselves, and they did a fantastic job.  There is also no such thing as being "Politically Correct," which means they have no problem making fun of their Arab neighbors as well.  I can't wait until I can understand it!

Even though I was less than a ten-minute walk from the Ulpan and the worst that could happen to me is to be jumped on by a large dog (which happened the other night with a dog twice my size), I couldn't back out of being given a ride back.  I also have an open invitation for any future Shabbat dinner, so I'm sure I won't be a stranger in their home.

I'm told that of all possible landings in Israel, landing on a kibbutz - and this kibbutz in particular - is one of the softest.  I'm thankful for that.  I'm thankful for the community, the strangers who quickly become relatives, the watchful eyes and helpful hands, and the knowledge that whenever I really miss home there are many in close proximity that are willing to take in an extra daughter.