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!