November 2007 Archives
I moved into my new apartment in Rishon LeTzion a couple of days ago. At first, the concept of living with five other people in a house that needs to be cleaned and taken care of frightened me beyond belief. Then, as the days have gone by, I have begun to appreciate my newfound freedom. As I have gotten to know my roommates and explored all that Rishon has to offer, I have grown to embrace the excitement that will ensue in the next few months.
The idea of walking into a home that is my own, with food in the refrigerator, couches and a dining room table, is the most absurd--yet incredible--aspect of Year Course. For the first time, I have the opportunity to live independently, while at the same time contributing to the community in which I reside. I'm sure that, by next week, I'll have more exciting stories to recount regarding my newfound freedom.
As I meditate on the past months, I struggle to detect specific moments wherein I have been happy. I remember the mundane things: walking through corridors, going shopping with friends, casual conversations with friends my favorite haunts in Jerusalem. The things that spring to mind most clearly are those that I shared with the newest members of my life. Never could I have imagined that there would be so many people eager to make friends, to establish a connection, on this program. The concept that there are so many young adults around me who I am excitedly getting to know and slowly feeling more and more comfortable with is unbelievable.
With a heavy heart, I leave the memories of Jerusalem and its inhabitants behind. I will forever have wonderful memories of Achsaniat Yehuda, of Jaffa street, of the Old City. Disregarding my hesitancies of past, I am delving into the next three months with a renewed effort. I must make it as if I have just arrived in Israel and have not been jaded yet. I refuse to capitulate by assuming an indifferent behavior. Instead, I hope to revitalize my excitement and passion for what Israel has to offer me. I simply cannot wait.
Before I left home, I was definitely ready for independence, and the thought of spending an entire year in Israel--a place very different from the opulent North Side of Indianapolis--was really exciting.
After living here for about a month-and-a-half, though, I have come to adopt a different perspective on what Israeli society really is. The thing that surprises me most about this place is the number of smaller, different "societies" and how they all somehow come together to form a country and a people.
Throughout the past month or so, I have traveled to a number of different places within Israel and have seen a number of different things that have made me feel more "Israeli" than ever before.
During the week of Sukkot, I spent the two days of Simchat Torah in the northern city of Tzfat. While there, I got a sense of the strong mystical Jewish community in Israel. Everywhere I looked, the famous signature of Rabbi Nachman, "Na Nach Nachma Nachman Meuman," was painted in blue. Among the blue doors and old synagogues, I sat on a rooftop with possibly the most beautiful view and stars I had seen since coming to Israel. I noticed that the people in Tzfat, in general, seemed to have a strong sense of peace, such as in the words of Yehuda Amichai, "A peace without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares, without words."
After the break, we started classes again and began to get ready for midterms. On Tuesdays, my "Zionism in the Arts" class takes weekly siuriim (trips) around the country to examine the history of Zionism through the development of different art forms. Usually we have to drive pretty far, but this particular week we stayed in Jerusalem (where I live) and went to a number of places, including the Museum of Psalms, where we met an extremely religious man who airbrushes art representing the different psalms written by King David (my celebrity crush).
On a more secular note, I spent a night in Tel Aviv at a ska (form of punk-ish music) show. It was really funny and cool to listen to that type of music in Hebrew. While rocking out in the basement venue, I began to think about my time in Tzfat...could this really be the same country?
As I was leaving Tel Aviv the next morning, I was stopped in the middle of the highway. Everyone sat in their cars and on their mopeds for more than 45 minutes without knowing what exactly was going on. One man on a moped started talking to me: "Last time this happened, it was because of a bomb." A bomb?
Contrary to the news and the media's portrayal of life in Israel as dangerous and scary, I feel safe here--maybe, at times, too safe. Because of the small size of the tiny state, the soldiers and security guards and perhaps even the sense of "Jewish unity," I often feel invincible, as most my age do. I went through the motions--waiting patiently, listening to the sounds of the guards shooting at the suspected item and getting the "all clear/false alarm" signal. But unlike all of the Israelis around me, who seemed to be secure, somewhat irritated, but overall understanding, I felt perplexed. This small sidestep in each Israeli's day was not out of the ordinary. It was, in fact, almost normal.
When looking back, I realize what a shame it is that situations like this can become even close to normal. What I have come to respect most about the way people live here is how they live ordinary lives in extraordinary situations. I have never been in Israel during a war, been forced to hide in a bomb shelter or anything of the sort. But I feel like this small event brought me to a greater understanding of what it is to be an Israeli.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
While waiting to join the country club in Holon that we fondly refer to as "the gym," I turned on my friend Ally's iPod and blasted the song "Fergalicious" into my ears. Now, it's basically impossible for me to listen to this song without dancing. So I started doing a little jig in my chair, and my friends looked away and pretended they didn't know me. All of a sudden, my madricha (guide, or counselor), Mara, called my name from across the room. I looked up, slightly embarrassed, thinking she was going to make fun of me for having my own private dance party, or at least tell me to stop. I saw that she held a phone in her hand, and cautiously walked over.
"Someone wants to talk to you," she said. "Seriously?" I asked. I assumed the caller was going to tell me to keep the dancing to myself, alone, in my room. "Seriously," Mara said, and I took the phone.
As it turns out, I was not being chastised for being a free spirit. I was being invited to a dinner organized by Hadassah (The Women's Zionist Organization of America), and a fancy one at that. A group of ladies and gentlemen in Hadassah from my area of Nassau County, N.Y., were coming to Israel for a few weeks. Hadassah wanted them to meet the 14 out of 494 Year Coursers who were from the area. As you can assume, I felt privileged to be invited to such an event because honestly, when would there be another opportunity to get an amazing meal for free?
When I arrived at the David Intercontinental Hotel in Tel Aviv, after a somewhat confused expedition involving me asking a police officer for directions, I didn't know what to expect. I'd never been to a Hadassah event before, although my mother mentioned to me that Hadassah was known for hosting ladies of the older sort. However, as soon as I walked into the lobby, two lovely women asked me if I was from Year Course, and then exclaimed how excited they were that I could make it. I felt welcomed already.
When I walked into the dining room I was still somewhat shocked to behold gray hair as far as the eye could see. Each Year Courser, and there were about nine who attended, was supposed to sit at a different table and talk to the guests about his or her experience on the program so far. I was led to a table that had only one woman sitting at it, but she kindly introduced herself and said the rest of the table would be arriving shortly. I smiled and excused myself to get a plate (oh fine, two) of the amazing dinner that awaited. It was basically a buffet sent from above for a girl who has to do all her own cooking (cereal, anyone?).
The other guests had arrived and introduced themselves. They asked me all about the program and talked about their upcoming tour around Israel. They had just arrived earlier that day. As the meal wore on, I began to realize that I enjoyed something else even more than the food: the company of the Hadassah members. Yes, most of them were grandmothers, but they were all so excited to be in Israel and to hear that someone like me, a teenager, was spending nine months of her life in this wonderful country.
Hadassah had also hired a singer and keyboardist to provide an hour of nonstop music. Almost everyone in the room got up and began to dance. There were many hora circles spinning around the room, and you can bet the Year Coursers were part of them. There was so much energy, considering all the guests were jetlagged travelers. But their enthusiasm for being in the country couldn't be dimmed.
When I think of this night again, I think of something Mara told me over the phone on the way to the hotel. "There are not many times on Year Course where you will be spoiled," she said, "so enjoy it." I was spoiled that night, and did I enjoy it! I had excellent food (that I even managed to bring home to my ever-grateful roommates), partners for my dance party, but most important, I was able to be a part of the beginning of the guests' trip through Israel. And that is almost as exciting as my own beginning here.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
The holidays in Israel cannot be understood without experiencing them.
At home at this time of year, in my family at least, we go to shul on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We have big family dinners for the Israeli and hippie sides on Rosh Hashanah, and we break the fast Texas-style with a large group of family friends. By the time Sukkot and Simchat Torah roll around, it seems like we're "holiday'd out"; it's been years since I've even shaken a lulav in Dallas.
Throughout the season here in the Holy Land, I experienced each of the holidays in a crazy, fun and incomparably different fashion.
For Rosh Hashanah this year, I visited my very secular family in Ness Ziona, an old city south of Tel Aviv. While I only spent two-and-a-half High Holy Days at the house, I left with countless memories. One night I went to a club with hundreds of Year Coursers in Yafo. I went bowling in Rishon LeZion, where I heard an Orthodox man blow his shofar for us to hear. I spent a few hours chilling and swimming in the Mediterranean at Kibbutz Palmachim, also an anti-aircraft army base. Before Rosh Hashanah ended, I tried my first sambusak (stuffed pastry), ate Shabbat dinner in a Petach Tikva penthouse and learned so much more about Israeli culture, in addition to meeting cousins I didn't know I had and practicing Hebrew. And this was just Rosh Hashanah!
For Yom Kippur, I spent the day in the Young Judaea youth hostel playing stupid games with friends and at the end of the day, completing the impossible two-hour walk to the Kotel to hear the conclusion of the fast.
On Erev Sukkot, I woke up to the sunrise at 6:30 after a night of camping on the beach in Tel Aviv with my newfound British and Canadian friends. They headed back to Jerusalem, while I decided to spend the weekend at Bereishit, a three-day camping and music festival on the Kinneret.
I could talk for days about how perfect these three days were. I spent my time swimming, goofing off with friends, mud-fighting, listening to great music and talking to random Israelis. As far as I could see, I saw tents on the beach and endless beautiful people in the lake, smiling and enjoying themselves. I learned how to live a good life with little to no money. It was like ancient times; we traded some of our pita for a glass of great Italian coffee one of our new friends offered to us. At Bereishit, I did just about anything you can think of that's really fun. After I woke up, had some breakfast and walked to the festival area, I saw a foam dance party at 10 a.m.! What could be better than that?
During the rest of my break, I spent two indescribable days in Tsfat for Simchat Torah, dancing with the Torah, exploring the ancient and mystical city and listening to all the different kinds of people who live there. Religious or not, everyone there shared the same feeling that the Messiah would come at any moment; it's a miraculous feeling.
Before the holidays ended, I went to a Spanish-style tomato-throwing festival in the Negev, picked fruits I had never seen before for Israel's impoverished and found my way from Haifa to my family on a Friday night with a dead phone.
I barely did anything these past few weeks that would be considered "keeping the holidays," but it did not matter to me at all. Here, a Jew has an innate, strong connection to the land and the people. The sense of community I felt during the fall holidays and the sense I still feel getting stronger every day is what's important.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
