Sunday, September 13, 2009
SAIS in Bologna!
I am safely and happily in Italy! I promise I will post details about Bologna, the food, the town, the side trips (Parma so far) very soon, but since I don't have Internet in my apartment, my updates will have to wait just a little bit longer.
Friday, July 31, 2009
On Peace Talks and PR
Recently I've been reading a lot of articles about the need for the US government, and President Obama in particular, to reach out to Israelis. These articles present a valid point. Israelis do not trust Obama, on the whole, and his lack of major policy speeches or overt gestures towards Israelis gives them no reason to stand against Netanyahu, who has no genuine interest in peace and is only hoping on keeping Israeli society enraged enough to maintain his office.
There was a great editorial in the New York Times by the editor of Haaretz (the main liberal paper in Israel) on the need for an overture from Obama towards the Israeli people.
Similarly, an old friend from Davidson posted an article on facebook that was a great read. The article is from the crown prince of Bahrain and focuses on the need for genuine PR efforts in the Middle East. This is a three part issue. First is his explicit acknowledgement that the Arab political establishment benefits from the continued failure of any sort of negotiations between Israel and Palestine. These leaders enjoy using the suffering of Palestinians as a lightening rod issue, and have no cause to abate this suffering. The other two parts involve the need for Israeli and Arab outreach. Israelis need to make a strong and genuine effort to demonstrate their desire for peace to the Arab world. This will require an activist PR movement--speeches, events, photo ops, etc. that show Israelis demanding peace. The Arab world must also produce their own PR initiative, one to convince Israelis that peace is possible, that the entire Arab world does not want their destruction. This requires both an effort within Israel and a cessation to the use of anti-Israel rhetoric within countries as a demogague's unifying cry.
Then I saw another post to Facebook with a link to this article. The article is about the use of the term "Free Gaza" and why it is a poor activist term as it separates the suffering of Gazans from those of Palestinians in the West Bank. And the article is so full of bias it is uncomfortable reading. The main point of the article is that Israel is responsible for splitting the West Bank and Gaza, and activists should not reinforce the split, even through the use of language. And while Israel certainly benefits from the rift between Gaza and the West Bank, Israel did not create the rift, and is not the one that maintains it. The reason this logic is particularly unsettling for me is that my friend is an intelligent, critical activist, and I feel that such a an absence of understanding of the Palestinian political system is, well, bizarre.
Of course, this is a highly emotional issue for many people, and so logic often falls to the wayside (for both Israelis and Palestinians and for the supporters for each side). But the two greatest threats to the Palestinian people are Fatah and Hamas. The Palestinian political leadership feeds on the strife. And Israel is able to ignore the need for peace when there is such failure of leadership. How can they be expected to negotiate with Palestinian leadership that can't even decide who should be present at the table? If Palestinians were allowed to elect a unified democratic government, Israel would have to address this government as the representative of the people. Fatah and Hamas, particularly Hamas, are not representative governments, they're thuggish clans.
The same friend posted an article from Haaretz on the upsurge in young Israelis requesting combat units with a comment demanding sanctions on Israel. Sanctions won't fix the problem. And it's not just a problem, it's also a symptom of the incredible fear and frustration young Israelis feel after the latest military campaign in Lebanon and Operation Cast Lead. Israel didn't come out with a definitive victory, and young Israelis in particular are concerned about the how any drop in perceived military strength could lead to further attacks.
Obviously, for my friend and I this will be an agree to disagree situation. I am wildy supportive of efforts towards peace, and think the Israeli government did irreperable damage to Gaza, but I'm not willing to diefy or to demonize either side.
There was a great editorial in the New York Times by the editor of Haaretz (the main liberal paper in Israel) on the need for an overture from Obama towards the Israeli people.
Similarly, an old friend from Davidson posted an article on facebook that was a great read. The article is from the crown prince of Bahrain and focuses on the need for genuine PR efforts in the Middle East. This is a three part issue. First is his explicit acknowledgement that the Arab political establishment benefits from the continued failure of any sort of negotiations between Israel and Palestine. These leaders enjoy using the suffering of Palestinians as a lightening rod issue, and have no cause to abate this suffering. The other two parts involve the need for Israeli and Arab outreach. Israelis need to make a strong and genuine effort to demonstrate their desire for peace to the Arab world. This will require an activist PR movement--speeches, events, photo ops, etc. that show Israelis demanding peace. The Arab world must also produce their own PR initiative, one to convince Israelis that peace is possible, that the entire Arab world does not want their destruction. This requires both an effort within Israel and a cessation to the use of anti-Israel rhetoric within countries as a demogague's unifying cry.
Then I saw another post to Facebook with a link to this article. The article is about the use of the term "Free Gaza" and why it is a poor activist term as it separates the suffering of Gazans from those of Palestinians in the West Bank. And the article is so full of bias it is uncomfortable reading. The main point of the article is that Israel is responsible for splitting the West Bank and Gaza, and activists should not reinforce the split, even through the use of language. And while Israel certainly benefits from the rift between Gaza and the West Bank, Israel did not create the rift, and is not the one that maintains it. The reason this logic is particularly unsettling for me is that my friend is an intelligent, critical activist, and I feel that such a an absence of understanding of the Palestinian political system is, well, bizarre.
Of course, this is a highly emotional issue for many people, and so logic often falls to the wayside (for both Israelis and Palestinians and for the supporters for each side). But the two greatest threats to the Palestinian people are Fatah and Hamas. The Palestinian political leadership feeds on the strife. And Israel is able to ignore the need for peace when there is such failure of leadership. How can they be expected to negotiate with Palestinian leadership that can't even decide who should be present at the table? If Palestinians were allowed to elect a unified democratic government, Israel would have to address this government as the representative of the people. Fatah and Hamas, particularly Hamas, are not representative governments, they're thuggish clans.
The same friend posted an article from Haaretz on the upsurge in young Israelis requesting combat units with a comment demanding sanctions on Israel. Sanctions won't fix the problem. And it's not just a problem, it's also a symptom of the incredible fear and frustration young Israelis feel after the latest military campaign in Lebanon and Operation Cast Lead. Israel didn't come out with a definitive victory, and young Israelis in particular are concerned about the how any drop in perceived military strength could lead to further attacks.
Obviously, for my friend and I this will be an agree to disagree situation. I am wildy supportive of efforts towards peace, and think the Israeli government did irreperable damage to Gaza, but I'm not willing to diefy or to demonize either side.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Home
So over a month after my last blog post, I've finally made it home. I promise I will fill in the blog with all of the exciting things since Shavuot. I have 5 weeks home before heading off to Italy, so that's plenty of time for catch up.
Love you all! Watch this space!
Love you all! Watch this space!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Shavuot
I really like Shavuot. While it's not as heavily celebrated in the US, it is in fact a major holiday, one of the three in which Jews were expected to make pilgrimages to the Holy Temple. It marks the giving of the Ten Commandments. It's also the holiday for the first harvest, so its a dairy and fruit holiday. My host family had a huge gathering of all branches of the family and we ate stuffed grapes leaves and fruits and a zillion kinds of cheeses, all of it vegetarian. It was great. I definitely enjoyed Shavuot.
Several kids in the group went on a modified version of Yam L'Yam (Sea to Sea), a hike going from the Mediterranean to the Knerret. I really wanted to do it, but I've pulled something in my back, so no dice. I'm incredibly proud of them for successfully crossing the North of the country.
During the Shavuot holiday I also went to Palmachim beach for the first time. I like Palmachim a lot. It's a shell and rock shore, not just the beige sands like in Tel Aviv or Rishon beaches, and is undeveloped (excluding one small restaurant). So it feels very cool and removed from the busy crowds of the rest of central Israel, minus the fact that the beach is crazy crowded with 'shanti' (hippie/laid back young adults). The waves there are great as well, and there are some beautiful pieces of old sea wall dotting the shoreline.
Several kids in the group went on a modified version of Yam L'Yam (Sea to Sea), a hike going from the Mediterranean to the Knerret. I really wanted to do it, but I've pulled something in my back, so no dice. I'm incredibly proud of them for successfully crossing the North of the country.
During the Shavuot holiday I also went to Palmachim beach for the first time. I like Palmachim a lot. It's a shell and rock shore, not just the beige sands like in Tel Aviv or Rishon beaches, and is undeveloped (excluding one small restaurant). So it feels very cool and removed from the busy crowds of the rest of central Israel, minus the fact that the beach is crazy crowded with 'shanti' (hippie/laid back young adults). The waves there are great as well, and there are some beautiful pieces of old sea wall dotting the shoreline.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Jerusalem, Hospitals, and Family
Thursday the program took us to Jerusalem. Since I went on Taglit-Birthright Israel last year, I'd already been on the Oranim tour of the Old City. I have to confess that I do not adore the Old City. The Cardo (the stretch of mall in the Jewish Quarter) is a fascinating piece of history, but the entire area has been so commericialized that I feel little connection with it at all. As a piece of the Second Temple, the Western Wall is amazing. But I don't cry when I see it, or feel particularly moved. It would be nice if I did, but I don't feel a connection with Judaism or the Jewish people when I'm there. I just feel accosted by vendors.
We also went to the City of David, which was super cool. The City of David is an anthropological site just outside of the Western Wall in East Jerusalem, currently be excavated. I'm always interested in any trip that includes a walk through water, in this case through the tunnel used to bring water into King David's castle. I also like listening to Yariv, our main guide, talk about the differences between the anthropological discoveries and popular mythology. For instance, there is a building just outside the gates of the Old City that houses the "Tomb of King David" on the first floor, the site of the Last Supper on the second floor, and a mosque on the third. The tomb of King David must be three thousand years old and the site of the last supper two thousand years old, but the building itself is from the Crusaders and is less than 1000 years old. But don't say that to religious Christians or Jews, they won't believe you. In fact, King David is probably buried somewhere in or around the City of David.
The next day I went to a hospital in Sheba to visit children from Gaza and the West Bank with cancer. This was not part of the program, but Fady, the guide/counselor at Kadima El-Amam invited me to join him. It was a rough experience. We brought the children and their mothers some snacks, toiletries, toys and clothing. Barring special circumstances, only one parent may come with the child, and neither the parent nor the child are permitted to leave the hospital grounds while in Israel. Since treatment takes many months, this turns the hospital into a sort of life-giving prison. One mother, whose toddler is undergoing treatment for cancer, had given birth a month ago, so her husband was visiting her.
Prior to Operation Cast Lead there were 60-70 Palestinian children being treated at this hospital. Now there are 20. It is extremely difficult to get permission to come to Israel for medical care. The family must get permission from the Palestinian government, who then passes the information onto the Israelis to get their approval. Hamas has shut down the Fatah office that handled this prior to Operation Cast Lead. Anyone's paperwork who was being processed has to start over. And since Hamas is a thug organization, not a government, they aren't actually that interested in helping people get medical care. Plus, the Israelis won't work with Hamas, only with Fatah. So there is something of an impasse.
Interestingly, some of the families we met spoke excellent English--English is the second language in the Palestinian territories, not Hebrew.
The Friday evening I finally met my distant Israeli cousins. They are Orthodox, which was a new type of Shabbat for me, and very very welcoming. The family has four sons, one of which is in the army. The other three are all married with children. The wives are all my age or younger. It's a different lifestyle, but very friendly and warm.
We also went to the City of David, which was super cool. The City of David is an anthropological site just outside of the Western Wall in East Jerusalem, currently be excavated. I'm always interested in any trip that includes a walk through water, in this case through the tunnel used to bring water into King David's castle. I also like listening to Yariv, our main guide, talk about the differences between the anthropological discoveries and popular mythology. For instance, there is a building just outside the gates of the Old City that houses the "Tomb of King David" on the first floor, the site of the Last Supper on the second floor, and a mosque on the third. The tomb of King David must be three thousand years old and the site of the last supper two thousand years old, but the building itself is from the Crusaders and is less than 1000 years old. But don't say that to religious Christians or Jews, they won't believe you. In fact, King David is probably buried somewhere in or around the City of David.
The next day I went to a hospital in Sheba to visit children from Gaza and the West Bank with cancer. This was not part of the program, but Fady, the guide/counselor at Kadima El-Amam invited me to join him. It was a rough experience. We brought the children and their mothers some snacks, toiletries, toys and clothing. Barring special circumstances, only one parent may come with the child, and neither the parent nor the child are permitted to leave the hospital grounds while in Israel. Since treatment takes many months, this turns the hospital into a sort of life-giving prison. One mother, whose toddler is undergoing treatment for cancer, had given birth a month ago, so her husband was visiting her.
Prior to Operation Cast Lead there were 60-70 Palestinian children being treated at this hospital. Now there are 20. It is extremely difficult to get permission to come to Israel for medical care. The family must get permission from the Palestinian government, who then passes the information onto the Israelis to get their approval. Hamas has shut down the Fatah office that handled this prior to Operation Cast Lead. Anyone's paperwork who was being processed has to start over. And since Hamas is a thug organization, not a government, they aren't actually that interested in helping people get medical care. Plus, the Israelis won't work with Hamas, only with Fatah. So there is something of an impasse.
Interestingly, some of the families we met spoke excellent English--English is the second language in the Palestinian territories, not Hebrew.
The Friday evening I finally met my distant Israeli cousins. They are Orthodox, which was a new type of Shabbat for me, and very very welcoming. The family has four sons, one of which is in the army. The other three are all married with children. The wives are all my age or younger. It's a different lifestyle, but very friendly and warm.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
New Orleans Trip to Gaza Strip
My friend Emily Ratner is part of a group of New Orleans human rights activists attempting to visit Gaza in a few days. Emily and I very much do not see eye-to-eye on Israel, but we have similar views on the treatment of non-combatants in the Gaza Strip. I wasn't going to mention Emily's visit, but I just read this article on Haaretz that turned my stomach. I'm not anti-Israel, and I fully appreciate that Israel is deeply concerned about supplying terrorist groups with items that could be used as weapons against Israel. But to not allow books or musical instruments? That's not even what makes me the most angry, but it is the most ridiculous--Gaza is a hell-hole, why aren't some sources of distraction, fantasy, culture, and education allowed into the territory? It's embaressing for Israel.
The thing that makes me the most angry are the limits on building supplies. Now, I totally understand exactly why building supplies are forbidden. Nails, saws, and timber can be used to make deadly bombs. Nails have been used as shrapnel in many of the suicide bombs that have exploded in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The terrorists add the nails so that anyone nearby who survives the explosion itself dies, or is at the very least wounded and disfigured, from additional exploding pieces of metal. So Israel doesn't want building supplies going into Gaza.
I get this. But as someone who has lived in post-Katrina New Orleans, and volunteered in the Lower Ninth Ward, trying to help people salvage their destroyed homes, the idea that only NGOs may bring in building supplies is deeply upsetting. Many many Gazans just want to move forward. NGOs simply do not have the resources to help every Gazan family that lost their home rebuild. I'm sure many families would borrow at insane rates from loan sharks, or sell any remaining belongings, just to begin the process of rebuilding. But they can't, because even if they have the funds, the materials are not allowed into the territory.
Of course, lots of the materials appear on the black markets, arriving in Gaza through the tunnels. But since the tunnels also smuggle weapons, Israel regularly bombs the tunnels, and they aren't open for very long.
I know the Israeli arguments about Gaza. I've heard them many times. "[The Palestinians] elected Hamas, so this is what they deserve." "[The Palestinians] want to kill us, we can't allow them the chance to re-arm." (This one is somewhat futile, as Hamas obviously re-armed easily.) Blah blah blah. It's not that I don't appreciate these arguments. Hamas is a horrible horrible government. In fact, they aren't a government, they're a group of armed thugs masquerading as a goverment. When Hamas officials raid UN supply offices, its safe to say they aren't interested in helping their people.
Israel is a thousand times better than Hamas. But that's not enough. Israel isn't being graded on a curve. Israel is a nation, founded on the principles of Judaism. And while the enslavement and persecution of another people is common in the history of Israel (by Jews, Romans, Assyrians, Ottomans, and on and on), that doesn't make it ok. Israel has to be better. In general, its rules of engagement are far superior. The IDF is to act defensively, not offensively. If someone comes at you with a gun, you must shout warnings before you shoot them. If someone comes at you with a knife, you can't shoot them, you have to run, unless they're less than a meter away. Good. But it's not enough. It's not hard to show more respect for human rights than terrorists.
There's another argument that's common in Israel, which is that since Hamas receives considerable assistance (in the form of transportation, storage of weapons, and lookouts) from 'non-combatants', the difficulty in distinguishing a combatant from a non-combatant means that everyone should be punished. If this kind of punishment actually worked as a deterrent, I would see their point. But the mass punishment of Gazans serves only to humiliate and demean people who have done nothing, or very little, against the state of Israel.
It's a messy situation. I don't have a brilliant solution. But I do know that Israel is capable of being a better nation than the petty, insecure demagogues that currently run the country like to suggest. Peace will only be possible when each side recognizes that the other has valid complaints and concerns. To wash either side with the label of "Totally and Completely Wrong and Immoral" is to guarantee the future of violence and hatred.
The thing that makes me the most angry are the limits on building supplies. Now, I totally understand exactly why building supplies are forbidden. Nails, saws, and timber can be used to make deadly bombs. Nails have been used as shrapnel in many of the suicide bombs that have exploded in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The terrorists add the nails so that anyone nearby who survives the explosion itself dies, or is at the very least wounded and disfigured, from additional exploding pieces of metal. So Israel doesn't want building supplies going into Gaza.
I get this. But as someone who has lived in post-Katrina New Orleans, and volunteered in the Lower Ninth Ward, trying to help people salvage their destroyed homes, the idea that only NGOs may bring in building supplies is deeply upsetting. Many many Gazans just want to move forward. NGOs simply do not have the resources to help every Gazan family that lost their home rebuild. I'm sure many families would borrow at insane rates from loan sharks, or sell any remaining belongings, just to begin the process of rebuilding. But they can't, because even if they have the funds, the materials are not allowed into the territory.
Of course, lots of the materials appear on the black markets, arriving in Gaza through the tunnels. But since the tunnels also smuggle weapons, Israel regularly bombs the tunnels, and they aren't open for very long.
I know the Israeli arguments about Gaza. I've heard them many times. "[The Palestinians] elected Hamas, so this is what they deserve." "[The Palestinians] want to kill us, we can't allow them the chance to re-arm." (This one is somewhat futile, as Hamas obviously re-armed easily.) Blah blah blah. It's not that I don't appreciate these arguments. Hamas is a horrible horrible government. In fact, they aren't a government, they're a group of armed thugs masquerading as a goverment. When Hamas officials raid UN supply offices, its safe to say they aren't interested in helping their people.
Israel is a thousand times better than Hamas. But that's not enough. Israel isn't being graded on a curve. Israel is a nation, founded on the principles of Judaism. And while the enslavement and persecution of another people is common in the history of Israel (by Jews, Romans, Assyrians, Ottomans, and on and on), that doesn't make it ok. Israel has to be better. In general, its rules of engagement are far superior. The IDF is to act defensively, not offensively. If someone comes at you with a gun, you must shout warnings before you shoot them. If someone comes at you with a knife, you can't shoot them, you have to run, unless they're less than a meter away. Good. But it's not enough. It's not hard to show more respect for human rights than terrorists.
There's another argument that's common in Israel, which is that since Hamas receives considerable assistance (in the form of transportation, storage of weapons, and lookouts) from 'non-combatants', the difficulty in distinguishing a combatant from a non-combatant means that everyone should be punished. If this kind of punishment actually worked as a deterrent, I would see their point. But the mass punishment of Gazans serves only to humiliate and demean people who have done nothing, or very little, against the state of Israel.
It's a messy situation. I don't have a brilliant solution. But I do know that Israel is capable of being a better nation than the petty, insecure demagogues that currently run the country like to suggest. Peace will only be possible when each side recognizes that the other has valid complaints and concerns. To wash either side with the label of "Totally and Completely Wrong and Immoral" is to guarantee the future of violence and hatred.
Another 2 Week Gap
The two week mark seems to be when people start suggesting I update my blog. Here are some tidbits:
There's been a change to the staffing of our program (namely we'll be getting a new program director), but I'm not sure what implications that will have for our experience.
Last week Kadima El Amam had a barbecue, which was a lot of fun. A former volunteer donated the meat, and we had it on Lag B'Omer. The food was amazing. Plus, the kids really enjoyed a day off, where they weren't expected to study or learn, but simply to enjoy themselves. After the barbecue there was a birthday celebration, which was super cute.
Lag B'Omer was fine. It's a children's holiday. On Erev Lag B'Omer, the kids build bonfires and then stay up all night with them. We went to a bonfire in Qiryat Ekron, which was huge. It was very nice of them to invite us, but it wasn't a super-exciting holiday, at least to me. We had fun at the bonfire, watching people try to roast marshmallows on the massive fire--this involved lots of long tree branches with ten or twenty marshmallows jammed on the ends. Israeli marshmallows tend to be colored and flavored--usually strawberry, vanilla and lemon. It's hard not to enjoy a strawberry marshmallow.
We went on a two-day trip to the Golan Heights. I know they will eventually end up UN-monitored territory in any peace agreement, but I'm a little sad they won't stay purely Israeli. The streams and rivers in the Golan feed into the Knerret, and as the Knerret is Israel's only freshwater supply, any threat to the Knerret is a threat to Israel (this is one of the major reasons the Golan Heights were taken in the first place). Aside from being a natural and political resource, the Golan is incredibly beautiful. It's one of the only areas in Israel where you can find a hike full of shade and water. We went on a five hour hike on a mountain (the hike takes two hours in a smaller group), which was a ton of fun--I love playing billy goat.
The next day we went on a "water hike". The water in the river was a bit high, so we had to get out at points to avoid the strong current. It was incredibly fun. I'd love to do that kind of hike again. Being me, I knocked into rocks and lots my footing quite a bit, but without any noticable bruises or cuts (unlike the previous day's hike), because the water was so cold it kept bruising to a minimum.
This past week we went to Dialog in the Darkness. It's an underground museum, with no lights. The point is to experience the museum through sound, touch, smell, and taste, as if one is blind. It was a very cool experience. Yael, our city coordinator, went with us. Yael had previously gone with a group of Israeli young women. She says that the Israelis didn't cry so much about being in the dark (some people are whiny in our program), but they also didn't explore the rooms as much. There was a rainforest-like room, a "boat", an Israeli market, a city street, a music room, and a cafeteria. I enjoyed the experience, but I definitely think it would be better without people who are scared of the dark. This particular museum just isn't very fun for them.
This Friday my Uncle Ralph arrives in Israel, and is going to introduce me to our Israeli family. I'm excited to finally meet them.
There's been a change to the staffing of our program (namely we'll be getting a new program director), but I'm not sure what implications that will have for our experience.
Last week Kadima El Amam had a barbecue, which was a lot of fun. A former volunteer donated the meat, and we had it on Lag B'Omer. The food was amazing. Plus, the kids really enjoyed a day off, where they weren't expected to study or learn, but simply to enjoy themselves. After the barbecue there was a birthday celebration, which was super cute.
Lag B'Omer was fine. It's a children's holiday. On Erev Lag B'Omer, the kids build bonfires and then stay up all night with them. We went to a bonfire in Qiryat Ekron, which was huge. It was very nice of them to invite us, but it wasn't a super-exciting holiday, at least to me. We had fun at the bonfire, watching people try to roast marshmallows on the massive fire--this involved lots of long tree branches with ten or twenty marshmallows jammed on the ends. Israeli marshmallows tend to be colored and flavored--usually strawberry, vanilla and lemon. It's hard not to enjoy a strawberry marshmallow.
We went on a two-day trip to the Golan Heights. I know they will eventually end up UN-monitored territory in any peace agreement, but I'm a little sad they won't stay purely Israeli. The streams and rivers in the Golan feed into the Knerret, and as the Knerret is Israel's only freshwater supply, any threat to the Knerret is a threat to Israel (this is one of the major reasons the Golan Heights were taken in the first place). Aside from being a natural and political resource, the Golan is incredibly beautiful. It's one of the only areas in Israel where you can find a hike full of shade and water. We went on a five hour hike on a mountain (the hike takes two hours in a smaller group), which was a ton of fun--I love playing billy goat.
The next day we went on a "water hike". The water in the river was a bit high, so we had to get out at points to avoid the strong current. It was incredibly fun. I'd love to do that kind of hike again. Being me, I knocked into rocks and lots my footing quite a bit, but without any noticable bruises or cuts (unlike the previous day's hike), because the water was so cold it kept bruising to a minimum.
This past week we went to Dialog in the Darkness. It's an underground museum, with no lights. The point is to experience the museum through sound, touch, smell, and taste, as if one is blind. It was a very cool experience. Yael, our city coordinator, went with us. Yael had previously gone with a group of Israeli young women. She says that the Israelis didn't cry so much about being in the dark (some people are whiny in our program), but they also didn't explore the rooms as much. There was a rainforest-like room, a "boat", an Israeli market, a city street, a music room, and a cafeteria. I enjoyed the experience, but I definitely think it would be better without people who are scared of the dark. This particular museum just isn't very fun for them.
This Friday my Uncle Ralph arrives in Israel, and is going to introduce me to our Israeli family. I'm excited to finally meet them.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Ein Gedi
We recently went on a trip to Ein Gedi Nature Reserve (next to the Dead Sea). It was beautiful, but apparently was more stunning prior to fires which destroyed much of the vegetation. There are clear, blue pools beneath waterfalls where one can swim, and interesting wildlife, including some very large rodents. For those of you who are likely to visit Israel, and want to contribute to the preservation of nature here, don’t but Ein Gedi mineral water—it’s pulled from the reserve by a kibbutz and they far exceed the quota for sustainable use.
A Free Friday!
For once we didn’t have activities on Friday, so I was able to go visit a friend from Taglit-Birthright Israel in Tel Aviv during the day. He has a great apartment—it’s right off of Rabin Square. It was also nice to be home at a reasonable hour to get ready for Shabbat dinner. One of the unfortunate side effects of the scheduling issues is that we rarely get home before Shabbat actually starts. No one who goes on the Friday trips in Shomer Shabbas, otherwise there would be real trouble.
So Tel-Aviv is much more fun than Ramla during Friday. It's just more interesting in general--its amusing for me that I miss city-life like I do, considering that I'm more of a small town girl. But oh for a vibrant social fabric!
So Tel-Aviv is much more fun than Ramla during Friday. It's just more interesting in general--its amusing for me that I miss city-life like I do, considering that I'm more of a small town girl. But oh for a vibrant social fabric!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sorrow and Joy
I have a few moments in between volunteer placements (Gan in the morning, Kadima in the afternoon), because our water is finally on (it's been off for a day or so), and I desperately wanted to take a shower.
Monday we went up North to Atleat, an internment camp used by the British to hold illegal immigrants prior to the establishment of Israel. The British allowed only 10,000 Jews to immigrate to Israel each year, so Jews living in the British Mandate started bringing in people illegally. When the British caught people immigrating illegally, they were placed in Atleat. It's an internment camp, so there was certainly some trauma.
I will edit this post with more from Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha'atzmaut later as soon as I get back from Kadima and some afternoon Ulpan.
[2 Days Later :) ]
After Atleat we went to Mount Carmel, for a very short hike. It's a pretty nature reserve, and an amazing view. A longer hike would have been nice, but the trips tend to run extraordinarily behind schedule, so there are problems. We were also supposed to go to a Druze village, but that didn't happen either, which is a shame, because Druze food is delicious. Perhaps one of these days a trip will run on time, but that is unlikely, since delays don't seem to be built into the schedule. We have an overnight this week, so it will be interesting to see how that runs.
Finally, as the sunset we participated in a Yom Hazikaron ceremony at the Naval Training Base in Haifa. This was nice, and had a beautiful backdrop of the Mediterranean, but we didn't understand most of it. I like Yom Hazikaron, because it focus on the emotions of loss, rather than glory or pride. But it's hard to empathize when you can't understand the ceremony, so we didn't really connect with the presentation. The music was beautiful. I've seen multiple singing groups composed of soldiers now, and they're all very talented.
Tuesday during the day continued with the memorial for fallen soldiers, and then at sunset Independence Day began.
Independence Day was fun, but not remarkable. I didn't actually see any of the fireworks, which was disappointing. I hung out with some Israelis I had met during Pesach, a German and a Russian. Perhaps it was our location, but it didn’t feel like a particularly special night out.
Monday we went up North to Atleat, an internment camp used by the British to hold illegal immigrants prior to the establishment of Israel. The British allowed only 10,000 Jews to immigrate to Israel each year, so Jews living in the British Mandate started bringing in people illegally. When the British caught people immigrating illegally, they were placed in Atleat. It's an internment camp, so there was certainly some trauma.
I will edit this post with more from Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha'atzmaut later as soon as I get back from Kadima and some afternoon Ulpan.
[2 Days Later :) ]
After Atleat we went to Mount Carmel, for a very short hike. It's a pretty nature reserve, and an amazing view. A longer hike would have been nice, but the trips tend to run extraordinarily behind schedule, so there are problems. We were also supposed to go to a Druze village, but that didn't happen either, which is a shame, because Druze food is delicious. Perhaps one of these days a trip will run on time, but that is unlikely, since delays don't seem to be built into the schedule. We have an overnight this week, so it will be interesting to see how that runs.
Finally, as the sunset we participated in a Yom Hazikaron ceremony at the Naval Training Base in Haifa. This was nice, and had a beautiful backdrop of the Mediterranean, but we didn't understand most of it. I like Yom Hazikaron, because it focus on the emotions of loss, rather than glory or pride. But it's hard to empathize when you can't understand the ceremony, so we didn't really connect with the presentation. The music was beautiful. I've seen multiple singing groups composed of soldiers now, and they're all very talented.
Tuesday during the day continued with the memorial for fallen soldiers, and then at sunset Independence Day began.
Independence Day was fun, but not remarkable. I didn't actually see any of the fireworks, which was disappointing. I hung out with some Israelis I had met during Pesach, a German and a Russian. Perhaps it was our location, but it didn’t feel like a particularly special night out.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Post Removed
I'm removing this post because I signed a contract stating that I would not write anything on the Internet that might damaged Oranim's reputation. I like to keep my word, so down goes the post.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Quick Update--Why April 20th Isn't Just a Day for Stoners
Today is April 20th, the official day for returning decisions to (most) international affairs graduate schools. My final result of acceptance/admittance looked like this:
Accepted:
Syracuse's Maxwell School (with Graduate Assistanceship and fellowship)
Johns Hopkins's School of Advanced International Studies, Bologna Center (in Italy the 1st year, small fellowship)
Columbia's School of International and Public Affairs
American's School of International Studies
Rejected:
Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School
Wait-Listed:
Georgetown's School of Foreign Service
I've made my decision, and while I'm still campaigning for additional aid, this fall I will be returning across the Atlantic to matriculate at the Johns Hopkins University, Bologna Center! It's safe to say that I'm super excited about this. :) I'll be calling the professors who provided my recommendations (thank you so much Dr. Huck, Dr. Howard and Dr. Gleiber!) to tell them about it in more details once the time difference makes this possible.
Tonight we are going to a performance of a play in Jerusalem for the beginning of Holocaust Memorial Day (Jewish holidays begin at sundown [the sighting of the first 3 stars in the sky counts as the official sundown] and end at sundown). The performance was organized by MASA Israel Journey, the grant giving organization that supports long term programs in Israel, including mine.
Tomorrow a siren will wail for two minutes, and the entire country will stop moving--people driving will get out of their cars, people in restaurants will halt their eating, and everyone will stand still for two minutes in memorial to those who perished during the Holocaust. I will write about it when I can, as well as about the rest of Pesach, which I promise will be posted soon.
How's that for a mix of joy and sorrow?
Accepted:
Syracuse's Maxwell School (with Graduate Assistanceship and fellowship)
Johns Hopkins's School of Advanced International Studies, Bologna Center (in Italy the 1st year, small fellowship)
Columbia's School of International and Public Affairs
American's School of International Studies
Rejected:
Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School
Wait-Listed:
Georgetown's School of Foreign Service
I've made my decision, and while I'm still campaigning for additional aid, this fall I will be returning across the Atlantic to matriculate at the Johns Hopkins University, Bologna Center! It's safe to say that I'm super excited about this. :) I'll be calling the professors who provided my recommendations (thank you so much Dr. Huck, Dr. Howard and Dr. Gleiber!) to tell them about it in more details once the time difference makes this possible.
Tonight we are going to a performance of a play in Jerusalem for the beginning of Holocaust Memorial Day (Jewish holidays begin at sundown [the sighting of the first 3 stars in the sky counts as the official sundown] and end at sundown). The performance was organized by MASA Israel Journey, the grant giving organization that supports long term programs in Israel, including mine.
Tomorrow a siren will wail for two minutes, and the entire country will stop moving--people driving will get out of their cars, people in restaurants will halt their eating, and everyone will stand still for two minutes in memorial to those who perished during the Holocaust. I will write about it when I can, as well as about the rest of Pesach, which I promise will be posted soon.
How's that for a mix of joy and sorrow?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sataf and Ramla
The same day that I first met Tali's middle sister (and her amazing mother-in-law Mazel) was the day we went on a hike to Sataf and a tour of Ramla. Sataf is an ancient town in the Judean hills near Jerusalem. It's built over a natural cave full of water. The living quarters were built above the water, and the agricultural space was under the water where it was easier to irrigate. Sataf is stunning. It's an easy hike to the remains of the village, and view is stunning.
The tour of Ramla was... just OK. Ramla is a beat-up city existing in a vaguely embarrassed stasis. Listening to kids from other cities in our program criticize Ramla, and whine about how they were worried the Arabs in Ramla would attack them made me incredibly frustrated. The overall theme of the tour was that Ramla is one of the oldest cities in Israel. It was established in the 8th century by Muslims and the huge tower and the remains of an aqueduct stand from that era. The central mosque in Ramla is a long rectangle (not the usual square), because it was adapted from a crusaders church. There is also St. George's Church (Greek Orthodox), which has some of the most phenomenal iconography in the Greek Orthodox tradition (Which I know about thanks to Iris, the teacher at my Gan, who is pursuing a PhD focusing on the techniques and themes of the iconography in the Ramla St. George's.).
That's it for tonight. I'll fill you all in on Pesach and such starting tomorrow morning. If you want to know about why we are "Jews" who speak "Ivrit(Hebrew)" while living in "Israel" (as opposed to, for example, the French, who speak French, and live in France), let me know, it's cool but a little dry.
I hope you enjoyed the barrage of posts!
The tour of Ramla was... just OK. Ramla is a beat-up city existing in a vaguely embarrassed stasis. Listening to kids from other cities in our program criticize Ramla, and whine about how they were worried the Arabs in Ramla would attack them made me incredibly frustrated. The overall theme of the tour was that Ramla is one of the oldest cities in Israel. It was established in the 8th century by Muslims and the huge tower and the remains of an aqueduct stand from that era. The central mosque in Ramla is a long rectangle (not the usual square), because it was adapted from a crusaders church. There is also St. George's Church (Greek Orthodox), which has some of the most phenomenal iconography in the Greek Orthodox tradition (Which I know about thanks to Iris, the teacher at my Gan, who is pursuing a PhD focusing on the techniques and themes of the iconography in the Ramla St. George's.).
That's it for tonight. I'll fill you all in on Pesach and such starting tomorrow morning. If you want to know about why we are "Jews" who speak "Ivrit(Hebrew)" while living in "Israel" (as opposed to, for example, the French, who speak French, and live in France), let me know, it's cool but a little dry.
I hope you enjoyed the barrage of posts!
Another Great Shabbat
So my fabulous host family continues to be wonderful. Before the entry on April 4th, where we went to Tali's sister's home, we went to Tali's mother's home. It was a lovely meal, during which I learned that my host father, Avi, is 1/2 Romanian. We were both excited about this little connection. The other exceptionally interesting thing was that the house we were in was in fact two houses. Tali's mother lived in the first, small cottage when she was married. When her family grew, they built a larger house, surrounding the smaller one on the side and on top. Now Tali's youngest sister lives in the small house, and Tali's mother lives in the larger house. It's very cool.
Also, for anyone who is curious, rugelach is 80,000 times better when heated--it was amazingly delicious.
Also, for anyone who is curious, rugelach is 80,000 times better when heated--it was amazingly delicious.
Ethiopian Cultural Festival
At the end of March we were invited to an amazing Ethiopian Cultural Festival. Within Ramla there is a substantial population of Ethopian Jews. There was very cool food--super spicy, eaten with a sort of sour Luach-style bread as a utensil--and wonderful music and dancing. The scouts put on a song and dance routine that was phenomenal. There was also a professional group of Ethiopian dancers who were remarkable. If anyone has a chance to see Ethiopian dancing, take it!
Kadima El Amam
My main purposes in coming to Israel were to gain more international experience and to develop a stronger and more nuanced understanding of the Israeli-Arab conflict before starting an international conflict management degree program in the fall. To this end, I really wanted to work with a coexistence initiative, something with Israelis and Jews together. This is why my program placed me in Ramla. As a mixed city, there would be more opportunities for this kind of project.
Well, not so much it turned out. Despite research before my program suggesting otherwise, my coordinator could not find a coexistence program for me to join as a volunteer. So she developed a relationship with an Arab community center. Kadima is a nationwide program providing a full meal, tutoring, and a safe environment after school to at-risk children from low-income families. There are two of these centers in Ramla--one for Jews and one for Arabs. This is a function of the incredible need in the community, and the incredible divide. Ramla isn't a salad bowl, or a melting pot. It's a tv dinner--it doesn't smell very good, the contents look like someone didn't put a lot of effort into them, and each food is in its own space.
Two girls in my program volunteer at Kadima Ramla Yehudi (the Jewish Kadima). The kids there are pretty tough, which is fully expected given the circumstances they're surviving. I expected the same from the arab kids, only worse, since I'd be representing Jewish America. I was totally and completely wrong. These kids are amazing. They are thrilled to have us volunteering, and are incredibly sweet and kind. There's a major language barrier, because their English is very weak. Arabic to English dictionaries have been a huge asset.
The experience at Kadima El Amam reminds me a lot of working with Hispanics in the US. There's a culture that I can only experience as a tourist, regardless of my language skills. There's incredible need. But there's also the same problem of the predominant languge spoken at home and socially not being the language of majority in the nation (The kids at Kadima speak Arabic with weak Hebrew the same way some Hispanics speak Spanish with weak English and the way older Russians in Israel speak Russian but almost no Hebrew.). They're natives of the country but they have been enclaved.
So I go to the center 4 days a week. Tahani, the center coordinator, is amazing and so welcoming. Working with these kids is eye-opening in so many ways. The poorest people in Israel are the Arabs and the Ultra-Orthodox (which seems semi-ironic). These kids will face substantial racism, as well as extraordinarily limits to their future as a result of their Arabic-heavy education. Volunteering at Kadima allows us to have substantial impact, which is wonderful.
Well, not so much it turned out. Despite research before my program suggesting otherwise, my coordinator could not find a coexistence program for me to join as a volunteer. So she developed a relationship with an Arab community center. Kadima is a nationwide program providing a full meal, tutoring, and a safe environment after school to at-risk children from low-income families. There are two of these centers in Ramla--one for Jews and one for Arabs. This is a function of the incredible need in the community, and the incredible divide. Ramla isn't a salad bowl, or a melting pot. It's a tv dinner--it doesn't smell very good, the contents look like someone didn't put a lot of effort into them, and each food is in its own space.
Two girls in my program volunteer at Kadima Ramla Yehudi (the Jewish Kadima). The kids there are pretty tough, which is fully expected given the circumstances they're surviving. I expected the same from the arab kids, only worse, since I'd be representing Jewish America. I was totally and completely wrong. These kids are amazing. They are thrilled to have us volunteering, and are incredibly sweet and kind. There's a major language barrier, because their English is very weak. Arabic to English dictionaries have been a huge asset.
The experience at Kadima El Amam reminds me a lot of working with Hispanics in the US. There's a culture that I can only experience as a tourist, regardless of my language skills. There's incredible need. But there's also the same problem of the predominant languge spoken at home and socially not being the language of majority in the nation (The kids at Kadima speak Arabic with weak Hebrew the same way some Hispanics speak Spanish with weak English and the way older Russians in Israel speak Russian but almost no Hebrew.). They're natives of the country but they have been enclaved.
So I go to the center 4 days a week. Tahani, the center coordinator, is amazing and so welcoming. Working with these kids is eye-opening in so many ways. The poorest people in Israel are the Arabs and the Ultra-Orthodox (which seems semi-ironic). These kids will face substantial racism, as well as extraordinarily limits to their future as a result of their Arabic-heavy education. Volunteering at Kadima allows us to have substantial impact, which is wonderful.
Time to Play Catch Up
Deepest apologies to all five of you who regularly read this blog. I'm working on improving my frequency. This past week has been Pesach (Passover) Break, which means lots and lots of fun, nearly everyone out of school and work, and tons of events. So despite my best intentions, I've been MIA. The rest of April includes Holocaust Memorial Day, a trip to the Dead Sea, Memorial Day (for fallen soldiers), and Independence Day, so I'm going to try my best to keep on top of updating.
Since I last updated I've been to Sataf on a nature hike (in the Judean hills), been guided around the sights (mainly churches and 8th century Arabic buildings) in Ramla, had my first Israeli Seder (Sephardic-style), had a post-Seder luncheon (Ashkenazi-style), went to Rishon Lezzyion Beach, discovered Yam 2000 (a waterpark) in Holon, went out at the Namal (port) in Tel Aviv (twice), went Power-Parachuting in Rishon/Rechovot, and spent a lot of time at Tel Aviv beaches. Between today and tomorrow I'm going to try and cover as much of the last two weeks as possible, since Monday night more events begin.
I'm planning on creating a flickr or Picasa or shutterfly account where I can tag my photos from Israel. But that hasn't happened yet. Until then, please enjoy the selection I've posted on facebook (and I will find a more suitable format soon).
Album 1: Purim (and my birthday)
Album 2: February and some March
Album 3: The rest of March and some April
Since I last updated I've been to Sataf on a nature hike (in the Judean hills), been guided around the sights (mainly churches and 8th century Arabic buildings) in Ramla, had my first Israeli Seder (Sephardic-style), had a post-Seder luncheon (Ashkenazi-style), went to Rishon Lezzyion Beach, discovered Yam 2000 (a waterpark) in Holon, went out at the Namal (port) in Tel Aviv (twice), went Power-Parachuting in Rishon/Rechovot, and spent a lot of time at Tel Aviv beaches. Between today and tomorrow I'm going to try and cover as much of the last two weeks as possible, since Monday night more events begin.
I'm planning on creating a flickr or Picasa or shutterfly account where I can tag my photos from Israel. But that hasn't happened yet. Until then, please enjoy the selection I've posted on facebook (and I will find a more suitable format soon).
Album 1: Purim (and my birthday)
Album 2: February and some March
Album 3: The rest of March and some April
Saturday, April 4, 2009
I have an amazing host family
I've totally lucked out with my host family--Tali and Avi are super welcoming and kind. Their kitchen has been under renovation for the past few weeks (something that I have sympathy with given the fact that our house still isn't finished, so we've been going to different family members homes for Shabbat dinner. Last weekend we went to Tali's mother's home, which was cool and I'll write about later.
This weekend we went to Tali's middle sister's home (Tali is the oldest of three). It was the sister, her husband, his parents, a 21 year old son, and a 6 year old son. Plus, we (another kid from my program, J, is now my 'host brother', since his host family didn't work out) brought along two girls from our program who are going to be Tali's sister's host children. A few minutes after I arrived, J, who is goofily funny, often unintentionally, in his deep sincerity to interact with everyone, was talking to the grandfather, who responded in Hebrew. His wife, Mazal, leaned over and said what sounded to me like "No se entiende. No se entiende." She was speaking Spanish! Finally, an older person I can communicate well with! Usually the older generations don't speak much English, and it can be harder. Last weekend Tali's mother spoke English, but her companion did not.
Well, I was so excited to speak with Mazal in Spanish, and she told me that she was born in Greece, but her family spoke Ladino. Ladino! Only complete Spanish nerds will be excited about this, but that includes me. Ladino is a form of medieval Spanish that is now spoken only by certain groups of Jews, since we were kicked out of Spain just in time for the groups to maintain what is now a unique form of Spanish. She also speaks Greek, Hebrew, Yiddish, some English, French, Polish (because of a neighbor) and Bulgarian (because her husband is from Bulgaria). She told me she loves languages.
Mazal also told me that she has been in Israel for 61 years--since Israel has existed! She moved here at 16, to Rechovot (a nearby town). They didn't have electricity or running water, but they were safe. She was just a girl when the Holocaust started. Her mother died in Auschwitz. I didn't dare ask where Mazal was during the war. She and her father came to Israel. Her son, Haim, told me that her family had been fairly aristocratic in Greece before the war, but after, she ended up in a developing country without utilities or any of the comforts of home, but alive.
Mazal asked me to come visit her. I gave her my phone number, and I really hope she calls.
I have the most interesting host family! Today my host uncle is taking some clients hang gliding, and then he's going to take some of us to the beach. And tonight is the beginning of Tel Aviv's centennial celebrations. They'll go on all spring. I'm going to try to catch up on my journal this evening, so I'll have lots of new posts soon. Maybe one of these days I'll succeed in doing two post of week, my goal.
This weekend we went to Tali's middle sister's home (Tali is the oldest of three). It was the sister, her husband, his parents, a 21 year old son, and a 6 year old son. Plus, we (another kid from my program, J, is now my 'host brother', since his host family didn't work out) brought along two girls from our program who are going to be Tali's sister's host children. A few minutes after I arrived, J, who is goofily funny, often unintentionally, in his deep sincerity to interact with everyone, was talking to the grandfather, who responded in Hebrew. His wife, Mazal, leaned over and said what sounded to me like "No se entiende. No se entiende." She was speaking Spanish! Finally, an older person I can communicate well with! Usually the older generations don't speak much English, and it can be harder. Last weekend Tali's mother spoke English, but her companion did not.
Well, I was so excited to speak with Mazal in Spanish, and she told me that she was born in Greece, but her family spoke Ladino. Ladino! Only complete Spanish nerds will be excited about this, but that includes me. Ladino is a form of medieval Spanish that is now spoken only by certain groups of Jews, since we were kicked out of Spain just in time for the groups to maintain what is now a unique form of Spanish. She also speaks Greek, Hebrew, Yiddish, some English, French, Polish (because of a neighbor) and Bulgarian (because her husband is from Bulgaria). She told me she loves languages.
Mazal also told me that she has been in Israel for 61 years--since Israel has existed! She moved here at 16, to Rechovot (a nearby town). They didn't have electricity or running water, but they were safe. She was just a girl when the Holocaust started. Her mother died in Auschwitz. I didn't dare ask where Mazal was during the war. She and her father came to Israel. Her son, Haim, told me that her family had been fairly aristocratic in Greece before the war, but after, she ended up in a developing country without utilities or any of the comforts of home, but alive.
Mazal asked me to come visit her. I gave her my phone number, and I really hope she calls.
I have the most interesting host family! Today my host uncle is taking some clients hang gliding, and then he's going to take some of us to the beach. And tonight is the beginning of Tel Aviv's centennial celebrations. They'll go on all spring. I'm going to try to catch up on my journal this evening, so I'll have lots of new posts soon. Maybe one of these days I'll succeed in doing two post of week, my goal.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Behind the Grey Line, Part Three
Saturday (Shabbat) was our last day in Beit Haarava. We could not get back to Ramla until the buses started running again after sundown. Around noon I went over to G's house to say thank you for her hospitality the night before. Her husband's son and his family had come from Tel Aviv, and I spent awhile with the family sitting on their back porch. They had truly made their home welcoming and it seemed very much like an extension of G's personality. There were wind chimes all along the back porch's eaves. The wind was so strong that she took a few down to keep them from beating into each other. She had made these amazing sesame savory cookies that looked like donuts but tasted better than anything sesame-related I'd eaten yet in Israel. Her brother, R, was headed to Tel Aviv later, and offered to drop me off in the center.
There are two notable details about the experience of driving from Beit Haarava to Tel Aviv. The first is the extreme difference in environment, from desert to green land. We saw a white donkey (supposedly what the Messiah will ride in on when s/he comes) along one of the hills. Everything in the desert is sparse--the greenery, the homes, all signs of population are seperated by considerable distance. But once you cross over the hills, it is green and bright (particularly because it was raining).
The other standout bit is of course the barrier and the checkpoint. I had no idea we'd crossed the barrier on Thursday, because Israeli buses just move right through the checkpoint. On Saturday I was in a private car, so it was totally different. Like a normal police checkpoint in the US, the first thing you notice is considerable traffic. They didn't stop our car or check our IDs or anything, but we were in a car with Israeli plates and neither of us looked remotely threatening. After the checkpoint you're in Jerusalem. Just on the other side of the checkpoing, maybe 500 meters away, a military vehicle had pulled onto the median, and the soliders were on the side of the road. A Palestinian man had climbed onto the top of the barrier and was sitting there yelling at them. I didn't hear of any major incidents in the news, so I'm going to assume it ended without any injuries.
So then R and I discussed the barrier. Israelis are almost 100% supportive of the wall. Why? Because since its completion, suicide bombings have been halted. Israelis no longer have to every waking moment terrified that if they take the wrong bus or enter the wrong restaurant they or a loved one will be killed, simply for being Israeli. American tourists have also been targeted. I am very very very glad that these bombings have been prevented. (Knock on wood a thousand times) But I am aware that the wall is also not 100% pure. It's construction often goes well into Palestinian territory, so critics consider it a land-grab. And for some of the designers, it may have been. But the Israeli supreme court recently struck down some of the proposed designs and said they must go closer to the Grey Line--this was in a specific area, not throughout the wall. In places the wall is large twists of barbed wire, 6-ft high or more. In others, it is an extremely tall and wide cement wall, and in others it is a combination of the two. Where the solid wall has not been built, human rights groups can still sue to have the line moved.
All in all it was eye-opening to spend time in the West Bank, even in a 'legal' settlement. I've revised my opinion of settlers, and also of the relationship between Palestinians and Israelis who both live in the West Bank. We ran into many residents of Jericho (they have white license plates on their car, not the Israeli yellow) who were friendly and very much not antagonistic (despite the fact that we are on a Jewish Agency for Israel program). Everyone is nervous, but there is a sort of functional stasis that exists in Beit Haarava and Kalya Beach. I will post photos soon.
There are two notable details about the experience of driving from Beit Haarava to Tel Aviv. The first is the extreme difference in environment, from desert to green land. We saw a white donkey (supposedly what the Messiah will ride in on when s/he comes) along one of the hills. Everything in the desert is sparse--the greenery, the homes, all signs of population are seperated by considerable distance. But once you cross over the hills, it is green and bright (particularly because it was raining).
The other standout bit is of course the barrier and the checkpoint. I had no idea we'd crossed the barrier on Thursday, because Israeli buses just move right through the checkpoint. On Saturday I was in a private car, so it was totally different. Like a normal police checkpoint in the US, the first thing you notice is considerable traffic. They didn't stop our car or check our IDs or anything, but we were in a car with Israeli plates and neither of us looked remotely threatening. After the checkpoint you're in Jerusalem. Just on the other side of the checkpoing, maybe 500 meters away, a military vehicle had pulled onto the median, and the soliders were on the side of the road. A Palestinian man had climbed onto the top of the barrier and was sitting there yelling at them. I didn't hear of any major incidents in the news, so I'm going to assume it ended without any injuries.
So then R and I discussed the barrier. Israelis are almost 100% supportive of the wall. Why? Because since its completion, suicide bombings have been halted. Israelis no longer have to every waking moment terrified that if they take the wrong bus or enter the wrong restaurant they or a loved one will be killed, simply for being Israeli. American tourists have also been targeted. I am very very very glad that these bombings have been prevented. (Knock on wood a thousand times) But I am aware that the wall is also not 100% pure. It's construction often goes well into Palestinian territory, so critics consider it a land-grab. And for some of the designers, it may have been. But the Israeli supreme court recently struck down some of the proposed designs and said they must go closer to the Grey Line--this was in a specific area, not throughout the wall. In places the wall is large twists of barbed wire, 6-ft high or more. In others, it is an extremely tall and wide cement wall, and in others it is a combination of the two. Where the solid wall has not been built, human rights groups can still sue to have the line moved.
All in all it was eye-opening to spend time in the West Bank, even in a 'legal' settlement. I've revised my opinion of settlers, and also of the relationship between Palestinians and Israelis who both live in the West Bank. We ran into many residents of Jericho (they have white license plates on their car, not the Israeli yellow) who were friendly and very much not antagonistic (despite the fact that we are on a Jewish Agency for Israel program). Everyone is nervous, but there is a sort of functional stasis that exists in Beit Haarava and Kalya Beach. I will post photos soon.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Behind the Grey Line, Part Two
I woke up early my first morning in Beit Haarava (hard floor, thin sleeping bag... quality sleep was not a potential element of this trip) and went out into the backyard of the house. I love kibbutzim in the desert.... SO gorgeous. You have lush, colorful trees and flowers that back right into the vast wasteland. BH is near Jericho and Jordan, so not a total wasteland, but nothing like the other side of the wall (Jerusalem, more on that in part three). I was thinking about Sallie (and reading The Portrait of Dorian Grey), so I didn't take pictures this morning, but I have few photos from my Taglit-Birthright trip last May that illustrate this well.
After the news about Sallie I was on the fence as to whether or not I wanted to stay in Beit Haarava. I knew there was no way I could make it back to the States for her funeral, but I didn't want to be the downer in the corner while everyone else was enjoying themselves. While deciding, I went with the group to the Dead Sea, specifically Kalya Beach. I could literally swim to the northern coast of the Dead Sea from this beach. There was an incredible view down into the sea and across into Jordan from the hill above the beach. Breathtaking. This is the lowest point in the world (sea level wise). It's also one of those places that gives you considerable hope for the future. This isn't just because it is beautiful, but also because of who is at the beach.
There's a good chance that at some point you've seen Dead Sea products (usually Ahava) being sold at a mall kiosk--salts and muds. Well, in the southern Dead Sea, the shore line and sea floor is mostly made up of salt--it's incredibly cool to play with. In the northern Dead sea, it' almost entirely mud. A dark, sticky mud that you can use as a body mask (rub it all over your skin, let it dry then wash it off in the sea). This mud makes the Dead Sea adventure more perilous, because the chances that you might fall face first into the water trying to walk in the muck are far higher, and to do so would be horribly horribly painful.
The visitors to the beach were incredibly diverse--Palestinian, Israeli, and tourist; Russian Jews, Jordanian Muslisms, secularists from all over, and even some women who I thought might be Greek Orthodox nuns.
The beach was visited by soldiers, but did not have a regular guard. We'd seen soldiers the evening before at Y's restaurant (it is the kibbutz's restaurant, which he manages, and is the nearest fueling station to both the beach and Allenby Bridge Crossing, so its very busy and seems to be profitable), and BH used to be a military outpost, but no one seemed to expect or to be concerned about potential trouble in the immediate area.
After we got back from the Dea Sea (a short walk through the desert was cut shorter by Y seeing my roommate and I walking and insisting that we get in his car and ride with him because even the 5 kilometers from the restaurant to the kibbutz were dangerous (to our health, from dehydration)), Y had set up host families for us for Shabbat dinner.
I loved my host family. Not only was the house decorated in a very cool, laid back and eclectic fashion, but my host 'mom' was born in Argentina, and her brother actually works in Ramla, helping rehabilitate homeless kids and getting them off of the streets at night. When I asked my host 'mom', G, how she ended up living in BH, she laughed and said it was a long story. She is a divorced mother of two, who has remarried, so I can see a long story there. I asked her about the politics, and while she is much more hopeful than her brother, R, she is very skeptical of the government being formed by Netanyahu. And when I asked her about potential Israeli withdrawal from behind the Grey Line, she said that if there was an evacuation, she would be the first one on the bus.
G also told me of a survey done of the Israeli children in the area (including her own). They were asked if they were afraid of the Arabs who lived near them, and the children said no, because they knew them. But when the children were asked if they were afraid of Arabs in Jericho, they said yes, because they were unknown. I thought that was very interesting.
G served Orange Soup (carrot, potato, sweet potato and onion soup), the same that my actual host mother made the week before, so that was incredibly exciting for me. It was a wonderful meal with fascinating conversation and such friendly people.
The party that evening (the reason we were in BH) was fun, but I didn't stay long, because I was still very sad about Sallie.
After the news about Sallie I was on the fence as to whether or not I wanted to stay in Beit Haarava. I knew there was no way I could make it back to the States for her funeral, but I didn't want to be the downer in the corner while everyone else was enjoying themselves. While deciding, I went with the group to the Dead Sea, specifically Kalya Beach. I could literally swim to the northern coast of the Dead Sea from this beach. There was an incredible view down into the sea and across into Jordan from the hill above the beach. Breathtaking. This is the lowest point in the world (sea level wise). It's also one of those places that gives you considerable hope for the future. This isn't just because it is beautiful, but also because of who is at the beach.
There's a good chance that at some point you've seen Dead Sea products (usually Ahava) being sold at a mall kiosk--salts and muds. Well, in the southern Dead Sea, the shore line and sea floor is mostly made up of salt--it's incredibly cool to play with. In the northern Dead sea, it' almost entirely mud. A dark, sticky mud that you can use as a body mask (rub it all over your skin, let it dry then wash it off in the sea). This mud makes the Dead Sea adventure more perilous, because the chances that you might fall face first into the water trying to walk in the muck are far higher, and to do so would be horribly horribly painful.
The visitors to the beach were incredibly diverse--Palestinian, Israeli, and tourist; Russian Jews, Jordanian Muslisms, secularists from all over, and even some women who I thought might be Greek Orthodox nuns.
The beach was visited by soldiers, but did not have a regular guard. We'd seen soldiers the evening before at Y's restaurant (it is the kibbutz's restaurant, which he manages, and is the nearest fueling station to both the beach and Allenby Bridge Crossing, so its very busy and seems to be profitable), and BH used to be a military outpost, but no one seemed to expect or to be concerned about potential trouble in the immediate area.
After we got back from the Dea Sea (a short walk through the desert was cut shorter by Y seeing my roommate and I walking and insisting that we get in his car and ride with him because even the 5 kilometers from the restaurant to the kibbutz were dangerous (to our health, from dehydration)), Y had set up host families for us for Shabbat dinner.
I loved my host family. Not only was the house decorated in a very cool, laid back and eclectic fashion, but my host 'mom' was born in Argentina, and her brother actually works in Ramla, helping rehabilitate homeless kids and getting them off of the streets at night. When I asked my host 'mom', G, how she ended up living in BH, she laughed and said it was a long story. She is a divorced mother of two, who has remarried, so I can see a long story there. I asked her about the politics, and while she is much more hopeful than her brother, R, she is very skeptical of the government being formed by Netanyahu. And when I asked her about potential Israeli withdrawal from behind the Grey Line, she said that if there was an evacuation, she would be the first one on the bus.
G also told me of a survey done of the Israeli children in the area (including her own). They were asked if they were afraid of the Arabs who lived near them, and the children said no, because they knew them. But when the children were asked if they were afraid of Arabs in Jericho, they said yes, because they were unknown. I thought that was very interesting.
G served Orange Soup (carrot, potato, sweet potato and onion soup), the same that my actual host mother made the week before, so that was incredibly exciting for me. It was a wonderful meal with fascinating conversation and such friendly people.
The party that evening (the reason we were in BH) was fun, but I didn't stay long, because I was still very sad about Sallie.
Behind the Grey Line, Part One
Last weekend I went on a trip to a kibbutz near the Dead Sea with some other program participants. My roommate's host family had invited anyone who wanted to make the journey to Kibbutz Beit Haarava for the weekend, with a great Purim party Friday night (I will write about Purim soon, but this is more interesting, I promise).
It took two buses to get to Beit Haarava--one from Ramla to Jerusalem and one from Jerusalem to Beit Haarava. Y (I'm using initials for privacy reasons), our host for the weekend, had sleeping bags and an empty house at the kibbutz available for us. He was incredibly welcoming--offered us snacks and home-brewed beer, and later drove us the 5 kilometers off of the kibbutz to the restaurant. Chatting with Y, he mentioned that we were in a settlement. A settlement. I'd crossed the Grey Line, and the barrier, without realizing it, because buses don't have to stop. I have extemely strong feelings about settlements, and none of them supportive. (For a rough concept of how I feel, see this article by Thomas Friedman.) Now here I was partying in Israeli-occupied Palestine. How's that for neutrality?
Beit Haarava is at the very north of the Dead Sea, near the King Abdullah Hussein/Alleny Bridge Crossing into Jordan. First settled in the late 1930s, Beit Haarava was abandoned in 1948 as too remote and difficult to protect. In 1967, the Grey Line was delineated around the West Bank, with Beit Haarava well within the Palestinian territory. In the 1980s, Nahal (a paramilitary and agricultural brigade) re-established the kibbutz as an outpost, and handed over to civilians in 1996. And then in 2000, the kibbutz was moved to its current location because of growth. Beit Haarava is one of the last remaining strongly socialist kibbutzim. Members give their salaries to the kibbutz, and in exchange everything that they need--food, clothing, education, healthcare, everything.
My assumption was that everyone living east of the Grey Line was a total nutjob--a super rightwinger who believed that the messiah would only come if Jews occupied all of biblical Israel. I learned that I was deeply wrong.
Y and his family moved to Beit Haarava 5 years ago, because the government offered considerable financial assistance--rent, salary, etc in exchange for them living on the kibbutz for four years. After those four years, Y and his wife had to make a decision--they had two twin boys, then age 2 1/2--and they wanted to live near Jerusalem, but not in the city, because they didn't want their children raised in a frightening and brutally capitalistic environment (I'm paraphrasing, but this is close to exactly what he said), so inside the city was not going to work (Plus, Jerusalem is very expensive). Living to the east, south, or north would require living amongst the aforementioned rightwingers, which was also not ideal. To the west of Jerusalem the social climate was more appealing, but because everyone who is not a rightwinger and wants to live near Jerusalem lives there, it's exorbitantly expensive. So Y and his family decided to join the kibbutz. They are now members, and his wife is pregnant yet again. Y is not a crazy rightwinger, he's quite liberal, and his wife is a social worker in Jerusalem. So there goes my stereotyped view of the West Bank.
That evening I decided to stay in because I was still processing the fact that I had unintentionally violated my own ethics and crossed into Israeli-controlled West Bank. This turned out to be for the best, because I found out that Sallie Moore, the luminous and wonderful woman who 'raised' (her term) my sister and I, passed away that afternoon (March 12th) at the age of 90. As some of you (namely Adrienne and my family) will remember, Sallie had a remarkably strong character and her compassion for others, love of reading, and low bullshit tolerance had a profound effect on both my childhood and my own personality.
(I will post more about the next day in Beit Haarava in a bit.)
It took two buses to get to Beit Haarava--one from Ramla to Jerusalem and one from Jerusalem to Beit Haarava. Y (I'm using initials for privacy reasons), our host for the weekend, had sleeping bags and an empty house at the kibbutz available for us. He was incredibly welcoming--offered us snacks and home-brewed beer, and later drove us the 5 kilometers off of the kibbutz to the restaurant. Chatting with Y, he mentioned that we were in a settlement. A settlement. I'd crossed the Grey Line, and the barrier, without realizing it, because buses don't have to stop. I have extemely strong feelings about settlements, and none of them supportive. (For a rough concept of how I feel, see this article by Thomas Friedman.) Now here I was partying in Israeli-occupied Palestine. How's that for neutrality?
Beit Haarava is at the very north of the Dead Sea, near the King Abdullah Hussein/Alleny Bridge Crossing into Jordan. First settled in the late 1930s, Beit Haarava was abandoned in 1948 as too remote and difficult to protect. In 1967, the Grey Line was delineated around the West Bank, with Beit Haarava well within the Palestinian territory. In the 1980s, Nahal (a paramilitary and agricultural brigade) re-established the kibbutz as an outpost, and handed over to civilians in 1996. And then in 2000, the kibbutz was moved to its current location because of growth. Beit Haarava is one of the last remaining strongly socialist kibbutzim. Members give their salaries to the kibbutz, and in exchange everything that they need--food, clothing, education, healthcare, everything.
My assumption was that everyone living east of the Grey Line was a total nutjob--a super rightwinger who believed that the messiah would only come if Jews occupied all of biblical Israel. I learned that I was deeply wrong.
Y and his family moved to Beit Haarava 5 years ago, because the government offered considerable financial assistance--rent, salary, etc in exchange for them living on the kibbutz for four years. After those four years, Y and his wife had to make a decision--they had two twin boys, then age 2 1/2--and they wanted to live near Jerusalem, but not in the city, because they didn't want their children raised in a frightening and brutally capitalistic environment (I'm paraphrasing, but this is close to exactly what he said), so inside the city was not going to work (Plus, Jerusalem is very expensive). Living to the east, south, or north would require living amongst the aforementioned rightwingers, which was also not ideal. To the west of Jerusalem the social climate was more appealing, but because everyone who is not a rightwinger and wants to live near Jerusalem lives there, it's exorbitantly expensive. So Y and his family decided to join the kibbutz. They are now members, and his wife is pregnant yet again. Y is not a crazy rightwinger, he's quite liberal, and his wife is a social worker in Jerusalem. So there goes my stereotyped view of the West Bank.
That evening I decided to stay in because I was still processing the fact that I had unintentionally violated my own ethics and crossed into Israeli-controlled West Bank. This turned out to be for the best, because I found out that Sallie Moore, the luminous and wonderful woman who 'raised' (her term) my sister and I, passed away that afternoon (March 12th) at the age of 90. As some of you (namely Adrienne and my family) will remember, Sallie had a remarkably strong character and her compassion for others, love of reading, and low bullshit tolerance had a profound effect on both my childhood and my own personality.
(I will post more about the next day in Beit Haarava in a bit.)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Table to Table
Today, for a post-Purim recovery activity, we went to pick oranges. This was part of a program called Table to Table that tries to put food waste to use in Israel. Part of the project involves picking up unused meals from office buildings and banquet halls and such. The other part of the program is called L'lechet, and derives from the Jewish tradition of leaving a portion of the harvest to those in need. Table to Table goes around Israel harvesting the leftovers, and gives them to food banks, soup kitchens, homeless shelters and non-profits. Particularly in the economic downturn, a lot of crops go unharvested. Because the export market is demanding less from Israel, more is put into the domestic market, which drives down the price of produce in Israel. This is great from a wanting to eat standpoint, but for farmers, it means that at a certain point paying people to harvest their crop puts them at a loss, because they can't sell it for enough. As a result, more is left unharvested.
We worked in a field that belonged to a lawyer who donated the entire thing to growing free food. There were 90 dunim (I have no idea what a dunim is), and potatos, beets, turnips, avocado, oranges, and pretty much anything one might want. We harvest oranges.
I really enjoyed climbing up into the trees with the huge sack slung across my back, twisting off huge gorgeous oranges (which were very tasty), and then lugging them back to the pallets that a tractor was picking up. But it was something of a fun game for me. It got me thinking about all of the migrant workers in the states, who do backbreaking labor day in and day out. It's a game for me, it's a meager existance for them. It was interesting to have my latest academic research (Hispanic immigration to the US and New Orleans, the latter of which was spearheaded by United Fruit Company) dovetail with the work I am doing here.
Israeli oranges are delicious. And my hands still smell like oranges.
We worked in a field that belonged to a lawyer who donated the entire thing to growing free food. There were 90 dunim (I have no idea what a dunim is), and potatos, beets, turnips, avocado, oranges, and pretty much anything one might want. We harvest oranges.
I really enjoyed climbing up into the trees with the huge sack slung across my back, twisting off huge gorgeous oranges (which were very tasty), and then lugging them back to the pallets that a tractor was picking up. But it was something of a fun game for me. It got me thinking about all of the migrant workers in the states, who do backbreaking labor day in and day out. It's a game for me, it's a meager existance for them. It was interesting to have my latest academic research (Hispanic immigration to the US and New Orleans, the latter of which was spearheaded by United Fruit Company) dovetail with the work I am doing here.
Israeli oranges are delicious. And my hands still smell like oranges.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Israeli Bathrooms
So yet again, it's been awhile since I've posted anything. I've been sick off and on for the last three weeks. Blame it on the crazy weather. But I have been thinking of things to post. Here are a few bits on Israeli bathrooms.
Israeli toilets are interesting for two big reasons:
1. Two types of flush--little and big. This is to conserve water. On the one hand, this is a very cool kind of engineering. You only flush as much as you need. On the other hand, the small flush is quite substantial—I’ve never had to use the large flush. So unless Israelis have remarkable digestive systems, they really could ratchet down the strength of the flushes and still be effective.
2. Roughly ½ of the non-tourist public toilets I’ve been in lack toilet seats completely. This is true of the gan (kindergarten) I work at, and the ulpan I attend. I think at the gan this might be just to prevent lots of spillage from inaccurate aim. What it means is that from a very young age Israelis have to learn to squat at the toilet. There is no way around this. On the plus side, this definitely helps for strong quads and no fear of falling in the toilet and breaking your tailbone if someone leaves the toilet seat up.
I promise I’ll post more soon. I have plenty of interesting stories, just not a ton of energy. Thanks for being patient!
Israeli toilets are interesting for two big reasons:
1. Two types of flush--little and big. This is to conserve water. On the one hand, this is a very cool kind of engineering. You only flush as much as you need. On the other hand, the small flush is quite substantial—I’ve never had to use the large flush. So unless Israelis have remarkable digestive systems, they really could ratchet down the strength of the flushes and still be effective.
2. Roughly ½ of the non-tourist public toilets I’ve been in lack toilet seats completely. This is true of the gan (kindergarten) I work at, and the ulpan I attend. I think at the gan this might be just to prevent lots of spillage from inaccurate aim. What it means is that from a very young age Israelis have to learn to squat at the toilet. There is no way around this. On the plus side, this definitely helps for strong quads and no fear of falling in the toilet and breaking your tailbone if someone leaves the toilet seat up.
I promise I’ll post more soon. I have plenty of interesting stories, just not a ton of energy. Thanks for being patient!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Where have you been?!
I have been in bed sick, for over a week. Last Friday we went on a walking tour of Jaffa and Tel-Aviv and when I returned home I sat down on my bed, exhausted, and realized that my throat hurt--I was sick. Since then I've alternated laying in bed, coughing an astonishing amount, sounding like Harvey Fierstein in Independence Day, volunteering, and ill-advised attempts to go out. I am not horribly ill, but I have not been resting enough to allow my body to completely heal, so this is definitely going to be a prolonged illness.
In other exciting news, I tried Lachoch (gutteral ch sound in both cases), which are something like german crepes, according to an Israeli friend of mine. I bought them for Shabbat dinner and they are wonderful. They are basically giant pancakes that have to be finished in the oven because they are too large to flip. I definitely want to learn how to make them. I bought Lachoch and challah from the bakery across the street, and the Lachoch were phenomenal, but the challah was very sub-par. Perhaps I am spoiled because my father makes homemade challah every Friday, but I expect certain standards of excellence, and hard as a brick challah does not qualify. It'll make good bread pudding though, which is probably what it is headed for.
It had been raining a lot lately. This is good, Israel needs the rain. However, like New Orleans, Israel is not well equipped for the rain. Ramla, in particular, is crazy. The streets flood, to the point that an Israeli friend suggested street kayaking, and which I definitely want to try soon. Since it is Shabbat and raining, there is genuinely nothing to do, making this the perfect day of rest.
In other exciting news, I tried Lachoch (gutteral ch sound in both cases), which are something like german crepes, according to an Israeli friend of mine. I bought them for Shabbat dinner and they are wonderful. They are basically giant pancakes that have to be finished in the oven because they are too large to flip. I definitely want to learn how to make them. I bought Lachoch and challah from the bakery across the street, and the Lachoch were phenomenal, but the challah was very sub-par. Perhaps I am spoiled because my father makes homemade challah every Friday, but I expect certain standards of excellence, and hard as a brick challah does not qualify. It'll make good bread pudding though, which is probably what it is headed for.
It had been raining a lot lately. This is good, Israel needs the rain. However, like New Orleans, Israel is not well equipped for the rain. Ramla, in particular, is crazy. The streets flood, to the point that an Israeli friend suggested street kayaking, and which I definitely want to try soon. Since it is Shabbat and raining, there is genuinely nothing to do, making this the perfect day of rest.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
In Memorium
I just found out that my great-uncle, Howard Lane, passed away last night (at 3 PM US Eastern time). Rather than post another entry today, I am going to spend some time thinking about this wonderful, vivacious man. I will post something tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Election Day in Israel
Today is Election Day in Israel. Technically elections are supposed to be held every four years, but since Israel has a proportional representation parliamentary system and an ever increasing number of political parties from all (and I do mean ALL) sides of the spectrums (political, economic, religious, and ethnic) elections are called whenever the ruling party can no longer hold together a coalition of at least 61 seats (the parliment has 120). This is not a four year election. Tzipi Livni, the head of Kadima since Prime Minister Olmert stepped down from head of the party in disgrace (he's heavily suspected of fraud and corruption) in October, was unable to create a ruling coalition, which is why these elections were called.
I think the Israeli political system is totally ridiculous and ineffectual. But it has one hugely redemptive feature--Election Day is a national holiday in Israel. Shops and other hospitality industry services are still open, but everyone else has the day off. Voter turnout is amazing. Today about 50% of eligible Israelis voted. And it was raining today.*
Today we went to Rechovot, which is about ten minutes from Ramla, with our program coordinator, TG (I'm trying to avoid using names here, no one asked to be mentioned so I'd rather not). TG took us to a polling station--a school. Israel isn't really equipped for rain, so some amusing chaos insued. For instance, in Rechovot, a tree fell on power lines, and several polling stations lost electricity. The polling station we went to was part of the blackout, so people were using flashlights and candlelight to vote.
TG then tooks us to the Labour and Kadima party headquarters in Rechovot. Labour was very friendly and welcoming, and described both their election day procedures and the Israeli political system. Unfortunately, Labour did not find greatness tonight. They are now the fourth largest party in Israel, having lost their number three spot to an ultra-rightist party, Avigdor's Lieberman's Yisrael Beitenu. It was an extremely tight contest between Kadima, Tzipi Livni's party, and Likud, Benjamin Netanyahu (Bibi)'s party. Bibi has already been prime minister. I think he is good for Israeli national confidence but absolutely horrible for creating a strong and lasting future for Israel, which is more important to me. He's aggressively pro-settlement and anti-Arab. Fortunately, it looks like Kadima won, but only by one seat. It's unlikely that she'll be able to form a ruling coalition, so its very possible that there will be elections again in a few months.
We will see how this all turns out. I'm very hopeful. Plus, even though Israel has already had a female Prime Minister (Golda Mier, who by many standards did not technically do that great of a job), it would be nice to have another female in power.
*Something about the rain today: supposedly winter is rainy season in Israel. Until today, it had only rained for an hour or so since I'd been here. The rain made our tour difficult, but it was wonderful for the country. I hope we get more.
I think the Israeli political system is totally ridiculous and ineffectual. But it has one hugely redemptive feature--Election Day is a national holiday in Israel. Shops and other hospitality industry services are still open, but everyone else has the day off. Voter turnout is amazing. Today about 50% of eligible Israelis voted. And it was raining today.*
Today we went to Rechovot, which is about ten minutes from Ramla, with our program coordinator, TG (I'm trying to avoid using names here, no one asked to be mentioned so I'd rather not). TG took us to a polling station--a school. Israel isn't really equipped for rain, so some amusing chaos insued. For instance, in Rechovot, a tree fell on power lines, and several polling stations lost electricity. The polling station we went to was part of the blackout, so people were using flashlights and candlelight to vote.
TG then tooks us to the Labour and Kadima party headquarters in Rechovot. Labour was very friendly and welcoming, and described both their election day procedures and the Israeli political system. Unfortunately, Labour did not find greatness tonight. They are now the fourth largest party in Israel, having lost their number three spot to an ultra-rightist party, Avigdor's Lieberman's Yisrael Beitenu. It was an extremely tight contest between Kadima, Tzipi Livni's party, and Likud, Benjamin Netanyahu (Bibi)'s party. Bibi has already been prime minister. I think he is good for Israeli national confidence but absolutely horrible for creating a strong and lasting future for Israel, which is more important to me. He's aggressively pro-settlement and anti-Arab. Fortunately, it looks like Kadima won, but only by one seat. It's unlikely that she'll be able to form a ruling coalition, so its very possible that there will be elections again in a few months.
We will see how this all turns out. I'm very hopeful. Plus, even though Israel has already had a female Prime Minister (Golda Mier, who by many standards did not technically do that great of a job), it would be nice to have another female in power.
*Something about the rain today: supposedly winter is rainy season in Israel. Until today, it had only rained for an hour or so since I'd been here. The rain made our tour difficult, but it was wonderful for the country. I hope we get more.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The awesomeness that is Israeli Shabbat
For American Jews, Shabbat can be a tricky thing, particularly in the rural South where I grew up. Sure, a day of rest is a brilliant idea. The mind and body need the peace of pausing, and the soul will benefit from the inevitable reflection that comes with a full 24 hours of rest and davening. But in the US the weekend is Saturday and Sunday. And where I live, nothing is open on Sunday. This is less true now than when I was going up, but it is still a huge issue. Therefore, if you want to do anything specific that involves the outside world on your weekend (buy groceries, shop for clothing, handle errands) you really need to do it on Saturday. Combine that with the fact that every Sunday we went into Atlanta (an hour drive there and an hour drive back) for religious school, and you've got a weekend without much of a Sabbath rest.
My father makes Shabbat dinner every Friday night, complete with a fabulous homemade (and lately partly-whole wheat) challah and some sort of fabulous gourmet meal. We light Shabbat candles and bless the wine and the challah and share a meal together. It's an amazing cap to the week. But then Saturday becomes a day full of things that need to be done. Periodically there is some sort of pause or plan that is meant to honor Shabbat, but it doesn't really happen so much.
In Israel, this doesn't happen. The weekend is Friday and Saturday (not Saturday and Sunday). Shops start closing Friday afternoon. Saturday nothing is open except for a few convenience stores. Now admittedly, Friday night plenty is open in Tel-Aviv, and as my last post might suggest, we go out quite a bit. But Shabbat is for rest. I still handle money, but its the monit sherut (shared taxi) fare to go to the beach. I love this. It's enforced Shabbat--you have no business you can complete, so you might as well rest and relax. A quieted mind and a unstressed body, the stresses of everyday life removed--it's wonderful!
The opportunity for a genuine Shabbat is embraced here, even by secular Jews. While I am sure some people do work on Saturday (the convenience store men and monitim drivers obvious), it is not generally done. I like that in Israel one can observe the sabbath without having it be inherently observant from a religious imperative, its simply an aspect of Jewish culture in Israel.
Obviously, the Muslims don't work on Friday, and the Arab quarters are generally the area to go for places that are still open on Saturday. And this is my only hesitance about Shabbat and Israel, and it is not very strong. By having a nation-wide general observance that the sabbath is different day that should not be treated like the others, we limit the minority religions. This is the case in the US for us, and it is frustrating in many ways. But Israel is a Jewish country, and the US is technically not a Christian country, so it is less offensive to me here.
I'm going to go make a sandwich of chicken schnitzel leftovers (I make excellent schnitzel, which is a pleasant surprise) and then spend my day observing Shabbat with rest, if not strict religous observance.
My father makes Shabbat dinner every Friday night, complete with a fabulous homemade (and lately partly-whole wheat) challah and some sort of fabulous gourmet meal. We light Shabbat candles and bless the wine and the challah and share a meal together. It's an amazing cap to the week. But then Saturday becomes a day full of things that need to be done. Periodically there is some sort of pause or plan that is meant to honor Shabbat, but it doesn't really happen so much.
In Israel, this doesn't happen. The weekend is Friday and Saturday (not Saturday and Sunday). Shops start closing Friday afternoon. Saturday nothing is open except for a few convenience stores. Now admittedly, Friday night plenty is open in Tel-Aviv, and as my last post might suggest, we go out quite a bit. But Shabbat is for rest. I still handle money, but its the monit sherut (shared taxi) fare to go to the beach. I love this. It's enforced Shabbat--you have no business you can complete, so you might as well rest and relax. A quieted mind and a unstressed body, the stresses of everyday life removed--it's wonderful!
The opportunity for a genuine Shabbat is embraced here, even by secular Jews. While I am sure some people do work on Saturday (the convenience store men and monitim drivers obvious), it is not generally done. I like that in Israel one can observe the sabbath without having it be inherently observant from a religious imperative, its simply an aspect of Jewish culture in Israel.
Obviously, the Muslims don't work on Friday, and the Arab quarters are generally the area to go for places that are still open on Saturday. And this is my only hesitance about Shabbat and Israel, and it is not very strong. By having a nation-wide general observance that the sabbath is different day that should not be treated like the others, we limit the minority religions. This is the case in the US for us, and it is frustrating in many ways. But Israel is a Jewish country, and the US is technically not a Christian country, so it is less offensive to me here.
I'm going to go make a sandwich of chicken schnitzel leftovers (I make excellent schnitzel, which is a pleasant surprise) and then spend my day observing Shabbat with rest, if not strict religous observance.
This is my away message right now:
Quick review of bars and clubs in Tel-Aviv:
Rosa Parks: Has a sketch of the activist on their napkins, which is pretty awesome. The guys there were not sketchy and the bartender was very cool/patient with us.
Alcohome: Great name. The stairs to the bathroom are deadly. Cheap drinks.
The club next to Alcohome (Ben Yehuda and Arlozorolov): Very boring music selection, but nice crowd of people.
Villa: Owned by a Tulane kid, who wants it to be like the Palms. It's exam time, so maybe it's different during the rest of the year, but the crowd was super young, and the music was NOT the best. Very last year's Top 40. Supposedly this was an "it" club this summer. At the moment its a big high school party in a nicer setting, which can be fun, but provides limited dancing. Also, my friend met a male model who said he didn't drink beer for the carbs. That was depressingly unmasculine and caused us to not want to talk to him anymore.
One of the many Murphy's Irish Beer/Pub Sign Places: Looked like old Bruno's on the inside. Totally empty, but really fun people took us there. And despite the fact that we were leaving, the bartender told us what to say to get into the next club.
Lima Lima: Great music, and amazing mix of straight and gay crowd, which means incredible dancing. It was fun. "25 and older" some nights... which is not so true if you are a female tourist.
General Conclusions: We've done most of the low end of Ben-Yehuda, so it's time to switch to Allenby, which seems potentially more fun.
Rosa Parks: Has a sketch of the activist on their napkins, which is pretty awesome. The guys there were not sketchy and the bartender was very cool/patient with us.
Alcohome: Great name. The stairs to the bathroom are deadly. Cheap drinks.
The club next to Alcohome (Ben Yehuda and Arlozorolov): Very boring music selection, but nice crowd of people.
Villa: Owned by a Tulane kid, who wants it to be like the Palms. It's exam time, so maybe it's different during the rest of the year, but the crowd was super young, and the music was NOT the best. Very last year's Top 40. Supposedly this was an "it" club this summer. At the moment its a big high school party in a nicer setting, which can be fun, but provides limited dancing. Also, my friend met a male model who said he didn't drink beer for the carbs. That was depressingly unmasculine and caused us to not want to talk to him anymore.
One of the many Murphy's Irish Beer/Pub Sign Places: Looked like old Bruno's on the inside. Totally empty, but really fun people took us there. And despite the fact that we were leaving, the bartender told us what to say to get into the next club.
Lima Lima: Great music, and amazing mix of straight and gay crowd, which means incredible dancing. It was fun. "25 and older" some nights... which is not so true if you are a female tourist.
General Conclusions: We've done most of the low end of Ben-Yehuda, so it's time to switch to Allenby, which seems potentially more fun.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Only the Second of Ulpan and my Brain is already fried...
I did not realize how exhausting five hours of ulpan (hebrew classes) a day would be. Since I know my letters very well, the last hour and a half of the class I just work in the book. Nevertheless, it is incredible draining. Everyone in the program is feeling the exhaustion. I would have loved to go into Tel-Aviv tonight, but I simply didn't have the energy. I barely had the energy to look through my notes from today's lessons (I keep the vocabulary we learn in a seperate notebook and I'm trying to transcribe the new words from each lesson at night).
Yesterday (Monday) we did not have ulpan (the Israeli work/school week is Sunday through Thursday), thanks to our teacher being unavailable, so my friend and I went into Tel-Aviv and sat on the beach during the afternoon. Most of the program went to see Waltz with Bashir, which I very much want to see, but it was too gorgeous a day to be inside a movie theatre. After the sun started to go down, we began wandering the area near the beach. We walked along Dizengoff, from Frischmann to the port, then up to Ibn Gvriol looking for a bookstore with English language books. We had mixed success, but managed to find a store with philosophy, art, psychology, and maybe 10 fiction books on a side street. I have no idea what street it was, but it definatly curved, because I thought we were walking parallel to Frischmann, but we ended up intersecting it. Then we walked back down Dizengoff to the port to a sushi restaurant. All told it was a four hour walk. By some miracle I am not sore today, but I'm sure it explains some of my exhaustion.
Yesterday (Monday) we did not have ulpan (the Israeli work/school week is Sunday through Thursday), thanks to our teacher being unavailable, so my friend and I went into Tel-Aviv and sat on the beach during the afternoon. Most of the program went to see Waltz with Bashir, which I very much want to see, but it was too gorgeous a day to be inside a movie theatre. After the sun started to go down, we began wandering the area near the beach. We walked along Dizengoff, from Frischmann to the port, then up to Ibn Gvriol looking for a bookstore with English language books. We had mixed success, but managed to find a store with philosophy, art, psychology, and maybe 10 fiction books on a side street. I have no idea what street it was, but it definatly curved, because I thought we were walking parallel to Frischmann, but we ended up intersecting it. Then we walked back down Dizengoff to the port to a sushi restaurant. All told it was a four hour walk. By some miracle I am not sore today, but I'm sure it explains some of my exhaustion.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Why in the world are you going to Israel, especially right now?
Friends, family, and strangers asked this question fairly often while I was preparing for my trip. I have a variety of reasons, both practical and emotional, that combined to make completely certain that I am making the right decision.
Emotional:
Practical:
Emotional:
- I adore being in Israel. I went on a Taglit-Birthright trip this past May and had an amazing time. I felt comfortable here in a way that I am completely unaccustomed to, and I knew when I left that I wanted to come back. (I do know that this is the whole point of the Taglit trips, and that a combination of manipulation and flattery is used to encourage participants to feel this way, but I don't mind.)
- The Israeli-Palestinian conflicts make me feel incredibly sad and torn. I'll go more into this later. The opportunity to volunteer in a mixed city (Ramla is about 22% Arab out of around 70,000 people), and to work with a coexistence initiative was extremely important to me when I was deciding where to volunteer.
- I want to go into conflict management, and if I don't address my emotions regarding Israeli-Arab relations they will simply be the elephant of my academic and professional career. I can't run away from thinking about it in a critical manner simply because it is so important to me. It's unlikely that I'd ever have a substantial role in negotiating the conflict, because of my background, but I might be able to assist those who will, and I want to do so in a strong, genuine way.
Practical:
- To get into a graduate program in International Affairs, I needed more international experience that was on my resume. Without an extended stay abroad (more than my summer in Chile), my applications were probably going to fall into a pile of "maybes" that don't get accepted in the end. Having withdrawn my application to JET at the second round last year, and having chosen not to work for the IMF, I needed something to solidify my international credentials to these schools I deeply want to attend.
- Much as I love New Orleans in the spring time, going abroad in the spring would fit well with my life. Rather than trying to return to a job after six months away, I could use the time before graduate school starts (hopefully) to do something less traditional.
- For an American Jew, Israel is an extremely cost-efficient option for international work/volunteering/long-term experiences. Between the Jewish Agency for Israel, the Israeli government, and pro-Israel American donors, long-term programs in Israel can be very inexpensive. The tuition for my program was completely waived, thanks to a MASA grant and private donors, leaving me responsible for only my flight and my personal expenses. Our rabbi at my synagogue in Georgia even offered funding to help assist with my personal expenses.
- Programs for Diaspora Jews are extremely important to Israel and to certain groups in the international Jewish community. I am not in danger here, certainly not more so than I was in New Orleans. In the event of a genuine threat, we would probably be evacuated. The last thing my program, MASA, the Jewish Agency, and Israel want is for a participant to be injured. The publicity, particularly if the participant was American, would do potentially irreparable damage to these organizations's recruitment efforts. As such, I am not particularly concerned about my personal safety.
This time difference takes some adjusting to...
Sunday, January 25: I arrived in Tel-Aviv a day before the program started, and was not sure if anyone would be available to meet me at the airport. Turns out, a few people were there from the program's office, and I was able to head straight to Ramla.
The first evening here was a blur of confusion and sleepiness. I unpacked everything into a small room in a very dirty apartment, which two other girls would also be moving into shortly. There are also going to be two boys in the other bedroom in our apartment.
The other program participants who arrived early have been here for a week. They are bored and cranky and very dispirited about Ramla and the program in general, but also totally aware that once our volunteering actually starts there will be less boredom at the very least.
I called all sorts of people back home (New Orleans and Georgia) to let them know I arrived safely. Despite the fact that it is around 7 PM in Ramla, it is still quite early in the US, and I get most of my friends' voicemails.
The first evening here was a blur of confusion and sleepiness. I unpacked everything into a small room in a very dirty apartment, which two other girls would also be moving into shortly. There are also going to be two boys in the other bedroom in our apartment.
The other program participants who arrived early have been here for a week. They are bored and cranky and very dispirited about Ramla and the program in general, but also totally aware that once our volunteering actually starts there will be less boredom at the very least.
I called all sorts of people back home (New Orleans and Georgia) to let them know I arrived safely. Despite the fact that it is around 7 PM in Ramla, it is still quite early in the US, and I get most of my friends' voicemails.
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