(Further) Down South

Link to facebook album of this trip: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2077166&l=769df&id=1708389

First of all, thanks for the comments on my last post, every one of them made me smile. I miss all of you guys...


This weekend the Overseas Program went on a trip to Kibbutz Ketura, a little bit north of Eilat. We picked up a member of the kibbutz at some bus stop on our way down south, then after a few more minutes, we pulled over off the side of the road again. Lugging 1.5 liter water bottles and donning hats, we hiked up a short but somewhat steep incline of rocks and sand, and on the other side, were greeted with an actual sand dune! If you associate Disney movies with real life as much as I do, picture the opening scene from Aladdin, where the Arab guy is pulling his camel through a sand storm right before he starts to tell the story. That’s the kind of sand dune I’m talking about. This isn’t the dune we were on, but it looked pretty similar:

So it turns out that one of my favorite activities in life is running down sand dunes. It’s like running down grassy hills, which is also pretty fantastic, except better, since you can take off your shoes and socks and come to a sliding halt or fall to your knees wherever you see fit. Minus a few points for the sand that inevitably flies into your eyes at any given point, however. Anyway, after we played around in the dunes for a while (climbing back up is not nearly as fun as running down), we spread out in the valley below us and took a few minutes to reflect on the desert itself. Here’s a part of what I managed to get down on my piece of paper flapping in the wind:

“Yeah, I guess this is making it hard for me to not confront myself and my faults here – the desert is so big and old and I’m so young and small. It makes me see through myself. The desert is a place where you could hide from the world, but never from yourself.”

We were summoned from our reflections by the sound of the Shofar, which I thought was very fitting. We gathered our shoes and water and started walking back to the bus via an alternate route. I had a fun time trying to find a place to pee in the wide expanse of flat and visible that is the valley between mountains of rock on both sides.

Once we all made it back to the bus, we rode the final leg of our trip to Kibbutz Ketura. Ketura was founded by a group of what our Kibbutz tour guide deemed, “every Jewish mother’s worst nightmare.” Meaning, a group of Jewish teenagers who spend what is meant to be a gap year touring around Israel, having an eye-opening, inspiring, life changing, blah blah etc. journey, and then decide to stay. These kids turned one of the most meteorologically unforgiving parts of the world into a blooming oasis. Here is a picture of the Kibbutz and the surrounding area:

If you click on the picture and look closely, I know it was kind of hazy that day, but the mountains you see in the background are actually of Jordan, that's how close this kibbutz is to the border.

We spent the rest of the afternoon and

night settling into our rooms, eating a barbecue dinner (prepared by kibbutz volunteers of our age), and hanging out in the kibbutz pub before passing out for the night.

The next morning during breakfast, I was headed towards the salad bar to complement my eggs with some red and yellow peppers, when I passed someone who made me to do a double take. We eyed each other perplexedly before I suddenly realized who he was. For those of you who were on New Jew Nesiya Israel trip 2004, guess who. You’ll never guess. Give up? … Yonatan!! Yonatan, my madrich (counselor) from my 12^th grade trip to Israel, of whereabouts unknown for the past four years, is now clean shaven with an afro, living on Kibbutz Ketura. Guess who else I ran into? Laura Robbins of the class of ’02! She’s doing some work down there as well. Totally bizarre seeing people I haven’t heard from in so long.

Anyway, I’ll try to shorten the description of the rest of the weekend since this is getting unbearably long and there are still some cool things I need to write down to combat my future bouts of nostalgia. We went on a hike after breakfast on Friday and then drove down to Eilat for a few hours to cool off at the beach and do some shopping on the Tayelet (promenade). Ran into some more people I know on the beach… precisely, six of them, all from New Jew! Josh B. ’04, and Marissa, Tomer, Sophie, Jessie, Packer all ’05, were splashing in the water just as we showed up. It was a huge surprise and great to catch up. Also, I bought a skirt, it is pretty. End of Eilat.

Back at Ketura, we showered and prepared for Shabbat and got a quick tour of the kibbutz. Oh man, I just realized I forgot to take a picture of the laundry system at the kibbutz!

I thought it was totally revolutionary… labeled flaps on an outside wall of the laundry room lead to chutes which slide clothing into large baskets sorted by type and color (examples of labels: dark socks, light socks, jeans, non-dryer clothing, light shirts, dark shirts…). No family on the kibbutz has their own washer and dryer, and clothing is labeled with numbers corresponding to family cubbies to which they are returned, cleaned, ironed, and folded. Ok maybe nobody else thinks that’s cool, but I was impressed.

Edit: As you can see, I have a picture of the laundry! My high school friend who spent part of her gap year on the kibbutz sent me one as a gift! Thanks Leah!!!

Later that night, after a really nice Kabbalat Shabbat service (mixed seating and singing!) and communal kibbutz Shabbat dinner, we had a discussion with students from the Arava Institute which is located on the Kibbutz. In short, “…the Arava Institute is working towards peace and sustainable development on a regional and global scale” (from their website) by bringing Jewish and non-Jewish Israelis together with international students (including Jordanians, Americans, Europeans, etc.) to study the Middle East from an environmental perspective. It was great to learn about the institute and talk about the students, but for me, the experience was really my first opportunity to have an actual conversation in Arabic!

In case you’re wondering, I’m currently taking my fourth term of Modern Standard Arabic, known in Arabic as “Fus’ha,” or in Hebrew (translated to English) as “literary Arabic.” This is the rough equivalent of Shakespearean English, except that it’s slightly less archaic as most Arabic news stations present the news in Fus’ha. Despite this fact, it is rare to come across an Arab who can understand my Arabic, and rarer still to find someone who can respond in a way that I’ll understand as well. Many Arabs can understand Fus’ha but have trouble transitioning from their own spoken regional dialects to the standardized one that most foreigners learn.

To my surprise and delight, I was able to carry on a perfectly functional conversation with Anton, a student from Bethlehem, and had basically no problems until I tried to express why I feel as though all Israelis should learn Arabic. The sentences started to get too complex and convoluted… What was really interesting to me was how Hebrew slang had become integrated into his vernacular such that another Arab student, from Jordan, had no idea what he was talking about (I think he had used the Hebrew word for “traffic light” as he complained about traffic or something…). Arabic is a language that just keeps getting harder as you get more advanced, and I really needed this kind of pick-me-up at this point in my studies to boost my motivation.

The rest of the weekend passed by quickly (probably cause I took a three-ish hour nap on Saturday; the desert can really drain me) and before I knew it I was back at the university. Pesach is right around the corner, so I have to get cleaning/studying sometime soon…

Reflection

I think that I’ve reached what I’m going to refer to as my “mid study-abroad crisis.” I’ve definitely settled into a sort of groove and routine here – classes are well underway, I tend to go shopping and do laundry on the same days every week, my cooking repertoire has basically leveled off at six or seven items, and Hebrew everywhere isn’t as exciting anymore. I’ve been to the doctor twice, am expected at weekly frisbee games, don’t mind running my mouth off at Israelis who give me attitude… I guess in short I’m trying to say that in terms of my daily and weekly activities, from the outside this is starting to look like real life. But, in the back of my mind, I can’t help thinking, every time I meet a new amazing person or consider buying something semi-permanent for the kitchen, “Who am I kidding, this isn’t my life, why invest in anything here?”

People come to study in Be’er Sheva so that they can get a better understanding of the real Israel. You don’t hear English here while you’re walking down the street – in fact, half the time you’ll hardly hear any Hebrew, between all of the Arabic, Russian, and Amharic floating around. At other study abroad programs in Israel, students often complain of the “little America bubble” in which foreign students find themselves; between living with Americans, studying with Americans, and running into Americans at all the local nightlife destinations, it hardly feels like they’re in Israel at all. A part of me (ok, granted, a pretty small part, but still…) is starting to think that’s not such a bad deal. Hardly any assimilation required, less conflict concerning the people you let into your life, no problems expressing yourself in your native tongue! It’s like summer camp! Everyone is there for the same amount of time, no looking back in another few months and wistfully realizing that the life you were part of for half a year is still there just… without you in it.

Oddly enough, becoming more and more attached to this mirage of reality has made me homesick. Maybe because I’ve held off from making my room feel completely homey and since, as I mentioned earlier, the kitchen is still lacking in dishes I’d use at home (today I bought a carrot grater!), and probably partially because I’m SO SICK of the pseudo-cooking I’ve been doing since I got here, and partly because as I realize that this place isn’t my reality and my life, I’m sad to be missing out on important events in the lives of my friends and family back home. I know I’m not the first person to leave home for six months and half way through, stop and wonder, “What on earth am I doing here??” I guess this is just part of the process. Knowing I’ll have to leave is simply another truth in my currently murky reality. In the meantime, I’ll try to keep things in perspective (unfortunately, this never has been my strong suit). My friends and I are having a Shabbat dinner tonight and I made the potatoes my mom makes every Friday, so our apartment here smells like home! Shabbat Shalom.