Everything's fine, I just hardly have a chance to use a real computer.
Quick update: people are all much happier, I still clean hotel rooms, my skin is the color of rich mahogany.
More to come.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
2 Days In and I'm Already Constipated
Shalom from the Arava Valley, more specifically Kibbutz Ketura.
For those of you, like me, who still don't know where I am, I suggest looking at a map of the middle east.
First, find Israel.
Then find Jordan.
Then find the border between the two, and I'm essentially RIGHT THERE.
When I had my introduction walk-around-the-kibbutz, the volunteer coordinator told me I could jog to the border if I wanted, but only before sunset, as the army uses heat and motion sensors at the border which would be DANGEROUS.
(And thus I'm never going jogging)
I got here on Sunday, which was Erev Yom HaShoa (Holocaust rememberance day).
Additionally, Sunday was also the day that most of the garin* who were staying and volunteering here got kicked off because of suspected drug abuse.
The garin was apparently dating or BFF with half the non-garin volunteers, which means everyone I've met is either sad, leaving, or threatening to leave.
(*Garin = first year soldiers who go through a bonding experience like working on a kibbutz before boot camp, I think. Most are 18 or so and generally goofy and proud; Israeli)
So, as seems to be the trend during much of these past several months, I picked a bad moment to arrive.
I got here around 4pm and had to sit through a meeting about drugs at 5.
Then there was the Shoa event, which was entirely in Hebrew except for all the graphic Auschwitz and Treblinka photographs.
Needless to say, it's been heavy around here.
Everyone I've met is nice, though PISSED OFF.
That's not all true, but it's not that far from it.
Almost all of my new friends are from South America and came here through a program called Noam which sounds sort of like NFTY but in Spanish.
Most of the kids are 18-20 at most, with a few 21 year-olds for good measure.
There are also a few other people from NY/NJ and other places, though they're also mostly younger than me.
So mostly I've been speaking terrible Spanish and trying not to offend people with my horrendous Hebrew.
I've taught the group what a badonkadonk is; they've taught me that I don't really speak Spanish anymore.
This kibbutz wears a few different hats, if you will, so there are many different jobs to do.
I work in the hotel, cleaning rooms.
I would much rather not be cleaning rooms, just because I kind of already did that in Byron Bay, but whatever.
As I mentioned before, it's a very weird and high-stress time so I'm going to try and stir the pot as little as possible.
And now it's time for dinner.
...more to come.
For those of you, like me, who still don't know where I am, I suggest looking at a map of the middle east.
First, find Israel.
Then find Jordan.
Then find the border between the two, and I'm essentially RIGHT THERE.
When I had my introduction walk-around-the-kibbutz, the volunteer coordinator told me I could jog to the border if I wanted, but only before sunset, as the army uses heat and motion sensors at the border which would be DANGEROUS.
(And thus I'm never going jogging)
I got here on Sunday, which was Erev Yom HaShoa (Holocaust rememberance day).
Additionally, Sunday was also the day that most of the garin* who were staying and volunteering here got kicked off because of suspected drug abuse.
The garin was apparently dating or BFF with half the non-garin volunteers, which means everyone I've met is either sad, leaving, or threatening to leave.
(*Garin = first year soldiers who go through a bonding experience like working on a kibbutz before boot camp, I think. Most are 18 or so and generally goofy and proud; Israeli)
So, as seems to be the trend during much of these past several months, I picked a bad moment to arrive.
I got here around 4pm and had to sit through a meeting about drugs at 5.
Then there was the Shoa event, which was entirely in Hebrew except for all the graphic Auschwitz and Treblinka photographs.
Needless to say, it's been heavy around here.
Everyone I've met is nice, though PISSED OFF.
That's not all true, but it's not that far from it.
Almost all of my new friends are from South America and came here through a program called Noam which sounds sort of like NFTY but in Spanish.
Most of the kids are 18-20 at most, with a few 21 year-olds for good measure.
There are also a few other people from NY/NJ and other places, though they're also mostly younger than me.
So mostly I've been speaking terrible Spanish and trying not to offend people with my horrendous Hebrew.
I've taught the group what a badonkadonk is; they've taught me that I don't really speak Spanish anymore.
This kibbutz wears a few different hats, if you will, so there are many different jobs to do.
I work in the hotel, cleaning rooms.
I would much rather not be cleaning rooms, just because I kind of already did that in Byron Bay, but whatever.
As I mentioned before, it's a very weird and high-stress time so I'm going to try and stir the pot as little as possible.
And now it's time for dinner.
...more to come.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Going Back Back, To Eilat Eilat
Guess who got her kibbutz placement?
http://ketura.org.il/index.html
(yes this is the kibbutz that Sarah Silverman's sister lives on; no I will not become famous for spending 3 months milking cows at 4am, I've already asked)
I'm going on Sunday and I'll be there until July, as it turns out.
EXCITED EXCITED EXCITED!
Unrelatedly, I worked as a translator for a nice Ecuadorian girl today at the kibbutz placement office.
(When I say "worked" I mean I spent 2 hours interpreting her and getting paid in butter cookies)
I just hope my experience isn't as traumatic as hers was, and from what I gather, hers was, indeed.
"El piso...el piso fue cubierto en la mierda! Y yo no podría encontrar un tenedor dondequiera."
http://ketura.org.il/index.html
(yes this is the kibbutz that Sarah Silverman's sister lives on; no I will not become famous for spending 3 months milking cows at 4am, I've already asked)
I'm going on Sunday and I'll be there until July, as it turns out.
EXCITED EXCITED EXCITED!
Unrelatedly, I worked as a translator for a nice Ecuadorian girl today at the kibbutz placement office.
(When I say "worked" I mean I spent 2 hours interpreting her and getting paid in butter cookies)
I just hope my experience isn't as traumatic as hers was, and from what I gather, hers was, indeed.
"El piso...el piso fue cubierto en la mierda! Y yo no podría encontrar un tenedor dondequiera."
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Prayers That Don't Eat Up All Your Time
"There was a Jesuit priest I knew once and somebody asked him, ‘What’s the shortest prayer in the world?’
And he said, ‘Fuck it’. That’s great, isn’t it?" -Anthony Hopkins
And he said, ‘Fuck it’. That’s great, isn’t it?" -Anthony Hopkins
Friday, April 2, 2010
Herzilya, aka The Field of Wills nee Dreams
Chag sameach to those of you who are still eating matzah and happy Easter to those of you who haven't been eating meat on Fridays.
And if you're celebrating another holiday and you can't eat something too, I wish you all the best as well.
I never realized what a rough season Spring is for bread and livestock.
Writing to you from the couch of a one Julia Chazkel, who now lives in Herzilya (a town north of Tel Aviv) and who is currently in Italy with her dad, probably so full of pasta she can't even communicate, and she's letting me crash in her apartment until she gets back next Wednesday night. Incredible. But more on that later.
For those of you wondering how I spent my Pesach and where I went for seder, the answer is: Jerusalem but mostly, Randy Pressman.
Randy Pressman is a man who belongs in his own category of Great, and he's been awesome about letting me trail his every move since I got here.
First, I got to see Les Claypool with him in Tel Aviv---which was STUPID GOOD.
Then, after I asked if I could join in on whatever he was doing for Passover, he brought me to his friend's apartment in East Jerusalem (obviously we were in the Jewy part therein) and I got to make the turkey.
Literally, this year in Jerusalem.
What more could I ask for?
The seder was held at Randy's friend Ari's place and though Ari bought a 15 pound bird, there were only 5 of us there to eat it, as well as the other seven side dishes (not exaggerating---one of the other attendees used to be a sous chef).
Ari and company were excellent---funny and smart rabbis-in-training who were so warm and welcoming, I almost didn't mind all the matzah I had to eat.
We had a very nice, very casual seder and while I usually don't really love that oh-so-long To Do list that is the seder, I surprised myself with how much I enjoyed being around people who knew the same tunes and songs that I do, and mixing and matching the other traditions we brought to the table.
If I haven't made myself clear, it was a really wonderful experience.
Every time I come to Israel, I run into someone I knew/know/have met once or twice.
It's true what they say, wherever you go, there's always someone Jewish.
Sometimes they're from camp, sometimes they're from college, and it's always really nice to see them.
But this trip to Israel is the first time I have friends who are actually living here--friends who I can't make plans with to see when I get back home--so seeing them here makes being here feel like I'm not just wandering through.
I can't tell you just how necessary it was for me to meet up with some of these people, especially because I was beginning to feel more than just a little ready to get the hell home.
As Julia put it while Katowitz, Randy and I dove into the matzah brei we made, "it feels like home came to Israel!"
Yes, that's very cheesey, but it's also very precious, because it's true and I love them.
I'm still waiting to hear back about the kibbutz placement and since Passover's still going strong, I'm going to be waiting until beer and bread are again kosher. I'll keep everyone posted.
Love and matzah cookies!
And if you're celebrating another holiday and you can't eat something too, I wish you all the best as well.
I never realized what a rough season Spring is for bread and livestock.
Writing to you from the couch of a one Julia Chazkel, who now lives in Herzilya (a town north of Tel Aviv) and who is currently in Italy with her dad, probably so full of pasta she can't even communicate, and she's letting me crash in her apartment until she gets back next Wednesday night. Incredible. But more on that later.
For those of you wondering how I spent my Pesach and where I went for seder, the answer is: Jerusalem but mostly, Randy Pressman.
Randy Pressman is a man who belongs in his own category of Great, and he's been awesome about letting me trail his every move since I got here.
First, I got to see Les Claypool with him in Tel Aviv---which was STUPID GOOD.
Then, after I asked if I could join in on whatever he was doing for Passover, he brought me to his friend's apartment in East Jerusalem (obviously we were in the Jewy part therein) and I got to make the turkey.
Literally, this year in Jerusalem.
What more could I ask for?
The seder was held at Randy's friend Ari's place and though Ari bought a 15 pound bird, there were only 5 of us there to eat it, as well as the other seven side dishes (not exaggerating---one of the other attendees used to be a sous chef).
Ari and company were excellent---funny and smart rabbis-in-training who were so warm and welcoming, I almost didn't mind all the matzah I had to eat.
We had a very nice, very casual seder and while I usually don't really love that oh-so-long To Do list that is the seder, I surprised myself with how much I enjoyed being around people who knew the same tunes and songs that I do, and mixing and matching the other traditions we brought to the table.
If I haven't made myself clear, it was a really wonderful experience.
Every time I come to Israel, I run into someone I knew/know/have met once or twice.
It's true what they say, wherever you go, there's always someone Jewish.
Sometimes they're from camp, sometimes they're from college, and it's always really nice to see them.
But this trip to Israel is the first time I have friends who are actually living here--friends who I can't make plans with to see when I get back home--so seeing them here makes being here feel like I'm not just wandering through.
I can't tell you just how necessary it was for me to meet up with some of these people, especially because I was beginning to feel more than just a little ready to get the hell home.
As Julia put it while Katowitz, Randy and I dove into the matzah brei we made, "it feels like home came to Israel!"
Yes, that's very cheesey, but it's also very precious, because it's true and I love them.
I'm still waiting to hear back about the kibbutz placement and since Passover's still going strong, I'm going to be waiting until beer and bread are again kosher. I'll keep everyone posted.
Love and matzah cookies!
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