Eye Opening

Since classes ended, had the opportunity to visit family friends and do some traveling, which has been really great so far. I spent the past few days in Tel Aviv where I went swimming at the beach (Be’er Sheva needs one of those) and wandered around the open air market and artists’ fair. But the greatest afternoon was spent pretending to be blind.

In Holon, the city immediately south of Tel Aviv, the Children’s Museum is hosting an exhibit called “Diolog B’Chashica,” or Dialog in the Dark. The exhibit has made appearances all over the world, but Israel and another country (I forget which) are the only ones where the exhibit is semi-permanent.

My friend Avital and I showed up and the woman selling tickets offered us a tour in English, which we accepted. We were provided with walking sticks for sensing obstacles in our path, and with that, were told to enter a dark hallway with one hand on the wall, one hand brushing the stick on the ground, walking toward the sound of our guide’s voice. Entering complete and utter darkness is strange. My eyes and brain kept searching for light but to no avail. I think my head was even making up some light to keep me sane, but I really couldn’t see a thing. Normally, groups of fifteen are led through the dark maze of rooms, but for me and Avital, it was a private tour in English. Not a bad deal at all, since the rooms aren’t so big and in all that darkness, people often become dizzy or claustrophobic.

Fortunately, the voice of our guide, Meir, was very comforting and his instructions were clear. We spent the next hour or so wandering through a garden complete with cricketing crickets, trees, grass, and a small waterfall, then a hunter’s apartment (where we felt objects in the room and guessed what they were, including a goat’s skull!), and we even went on a short boat ride, where we felt the letters on the back of the boat and discovered that its name is Hannah. Our destination was an open air market where we felt through some fruits and vegetables, pedaled on a stationary bicycle, and discovered a car. Next was an empty room where we lay on the ground and listened to different music, feeling the base vibrating our bodies through the floor. Finally, we were directed to a small café, where we could buy some snacks at the bar and then sit down at a table. We were told at the start of the exhibit to bring a few coins in with us, and it was entertaining guessing which coins we were pulling out (despite my lesser familiarity with Israeli coins as compared to quarters, nickels, and dimes, it wasn’t as challenging as I expected it to be).

As we ate our snacks, we had the chance to ask Meir any questions we’d been pondering as we wandered through a world of darkness. We learned that he’d been blind from birth, having been born prematurely when medical technology wasn’t exactly what it is today. He did one of his degrees in the States, which is why his English was so good. It turns out that Braille is international and is used for many different alphabets (the guttural letter “chet” in Hebrew is written using three “English” Braille letters, t-h-e). Finally, as the tour came to an end, he asked us if we wanted to see him, or if we wanted him to remain a mystery. I hesitated for a second, pondering the idea of leaving the smooth, comforting voice in the dark forever, just as he would remember ours. We decided to see him, and we emerged from blindness, light sneaking around the corridor.

I don’t know how I was expecting Meir to look. I guess from the confidence he exuded guiding us through darkness, I thought he would be a commanding presence, wide shoulders, arms crossed, dark glasses, something like that. But he was a regular guy, gesturing with his hands, quick smiles flitting across his face every few seconds as we expressed our appreciation and bade him farewell. He hadn’t been using a walking stick at all. He said he views his blindness as a technical disability, one of many the human species experiences, and that he thinks ignorance and stupidity are more debilitating than blindness anyway.

It was a little scary and stifling, having no visual sense of space. The walking stick definitely helped, though I kicked Avital while getting off the bicycle and jabbed her with the stick a few times as well.

If anyone makes it to the Tel Aviv area, definitely stop by this exhibit, it’ll change the way you see blindness.

Pesach!

Pesach this year was definitely a new experience for me. One of my mom’s best friends growing up, Pam, flew out to Israel to spend Pesach with her daughter, Arielle, who is on a gap year in Israel program based in Be’er Sheva. They graciously invited me to spend the first few days of Pesach with them on Kibbutz Ma’abarot, near Netanya, where Pam’s boyfriend Ilan grew up (I know, how everyone is related is confusing. Imagine me trying to introduce myself and explain my connection to the family all weekend…)

Arielle, Pam, Arielle’s friend Lauren, and I almost missed our train since I hadn’t anticipated the crazy long security line due to holiday travel, but fortunately we made it on. We weren’t fortunate enough to find seats however, and we spent the bulk of the ride leaning on our bags right by the door to the car. We were not alone. About eight soldiers were packed around us cheerfully blasting mp3’s out of their cellphones, also sprawled on the floor amidst hiking packs. They were good company – one told me about his brother’s post-army trip to South America, where he bought a donkey and fed it carrots. The things you learn…

Eventually, we arrived at our stop and Ilan picked us up. Our two stops on the way to the kibbutz in the rental car included a lunch break at a falafel joint in Netanya (hard boiled egg in a falafel and pita is surprisingly good). The falafel making guy was a machine, it was impossible to stop him. Hence, we ended up with some awfully unidentifiable ingredients in our sandwiches, but they were good! So no questions!

The second stop was at a small river by the kibbutz known for its soft shelled tuftles. These things were huge – pretty sweet as far as turtles go. (Stay tuned for a future entry about my desert turtle escapade a while ago, haven’t gotten it down in writing yet, but it was awesome.)

Finally we arrived at the kibbutz, which is absolutely gorgeous. Green and flowers everywhere, ripe fruits waiting to be plucked off trees, small ponds and fountains scattered around the community. Garden of Eden wannabe, easily the most beautiful kibbutz I’ve ever seen. I spent a good chunk of the weekend studying for my computer science final, though a good chunk of “studying” was really taking in the gorgeous surroundings and chilling with Ilan’s great niece, Yarden.

Yarden is a funny kid. As a nine year old, it took her a while to acknowledge my presence at all, but I guess my sister Marielle trained me well since she finally decided I was interesting enough to talk to, and once she opened her mouth, she didn’t stop talking for two days straight. She told me about all kinds of things about the cool kids and the uncool kids, how it is rare to be both popular and [gasp] nice, and how obviously, she is a cool kid. It was kind of sad to see how someone so young has such an ingrained and nuanced grasp on social hierarchy, but funny to hear such a familiar construct explained by a kid more than ten years younger than me, and in Hebrew, to boot.

Me and Yarden at the Seder

The Pesach Seder itself was also far removed from anything I’d ever experienced before. Actually, no. Imagine a cross between your typical elementary school milestone play, and a meal. That’s what the Seder was like. Kibbutz youth of different ages sang and danced, older kibbutz members performed as well, and some of the Haggada reading was call and response. Not what I’m used to, and didn’t feel exactly like Pesach, but the gefilte fish was SO GOOD. It was made of carp grown on the kibbutz, and yeah, I know gefilte fish is really hit or miss with most people, but if you’re into it, a trip to this kibbutz during Pesach just might be worth it. The Seder was followed by dessert and Israeli dancing outside the dining hall. How nice to discover the dances I learned in Jewish school and camp aren’t the choreography creations of American Jews, as some may suspect. They exist in Israel too! Woohoo!

After the Seder at the kibbutz, Pam, Yarden, Ilan, Ilan’s son Alon, and I (Ilan, Alon, and Ilana in one room was basically disastrous; Pam would ask one of us a question, and we’d all simultaneously answer) drove over to Ilan’s sister’s house in Netanya to drop in on the end of their seder. We got there around 12:30 AM (!) and by the time we left around 3, I was about to pass out. I had a really nice time there though; Ilan’s nieces and nephews are around my age and the group of us talked for a while then played some Hebrew and English songs on guitar.

The rest of the night and weekend wound down quickly after that, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Tel Aviv to play in a frisbee tournament! More to come…

A Nice Chat

I got an email about two weeks ago from the coordinator of the Bedouin student center on campus, asking if I’d be interested in meeting with one student a few times to chat a little bit and practice her English. I said of course, and we exchanged a few emails to coordinate a time to meet up. When we did meet, she really was no what I expected. She wore a head covering, though she was dressed in jeans and a jacket, which, according to my understanding, is pretty progressive, seeing as I don’t think many of the ankle length dress clad Muslim women walking around campus are trying to make a fashion statement. I guess I was expecting a quiet, reserved, introverted girl, hesitant to speak English, Hebrew or even Arabic with me, but the girl who met me at the door of the student center had a wide smile and greeted me enthusiastically in Hebrew as soon as she saw me.

Chanin studies medicine at Ben Gurion (similar to a pre-med program) but when I mentioned that I study computer science, she confessed that she’d love to study computers are well but her parents want her to become a doctor (again, unexpected from my end). She told me that she took a year off after high school during which she started small business where she bought computers wholesale in Tel Aviv then sold them locally for a profit. Talk about entrepreneurship! This girl really surprised me. We talked about our families (she’s the youngest of… a lot) and she said she’d be happy having anywhere between 3-10 kids. Yeah. Also, that a family like mine (4 girls) would never fly in the Arab world. We’d turn into the x Marcus girls and the x+1^th boy, I suppose, eventually.

After speaking for a while, she had to get going to class so we walked over to the medical studies building together and agreed to meet up again sometime soon. Haven’t seen her yet since, as the Pesach break and finals have made things a bit hectic around here. She really did a number on my stereotypes, which was really cool. By the end of the conversation we were both speaking mostly Hebrew. Maybe next time it’ll be mostly Arabic, in which case the only things we’ll have been capable of talking about will have been the weather, shopping in the Shuk, a future career in the UN, or Ramadan. Could talk about Ramadan forever, thanks to chapter 2 of my textbook. I can not wait until I start learning some, any, speakable dialect. Fittingly, if I will it, it is no dream.

(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.

Dead Sea/Ein Gedi

Alright faithless readers, you win, you have no reason to trust that I’ll actually post anything on this blog since… I haven’t in about a month. Things have been happening here in Be’er Sheva but unless I write about all of the excitement my times here will fade into that all-encompassing sentence when I describe my study abroad experience half a year from now, “Yeah it was really amazing!”

Last I left off I was going to spend the weekend at the Dead Sea and Ein Gedi with the overseas students. Our Madricha, Liat, led us on a gorgeous hike through the desert by the Dead Sea up and down some somewhat terrifying cliffs, which culminated at an abandoned Israeli bunker built for a war in years past. Afterwards, we bussed over to the Dead Sea and I went in! This is a major accomplishment of strength and perseverance on my part since my lone immersive experience concerning the Dead Sea occurred when I was around 8 and it burned so bad that I was traumatized for life… until now. Since then I’d only subjected toes and ankles to the hyper concentrated minerals, but I was inspired by and curious of the floating phenomenon, and did it! It was kind of gross though, the minerals are so concentrated it feels like swimming in oil.

That night we had Shabbat at the nearby kibbutz/guest house where we stayed then in the morning went on a day hike in Ein Gedi. Ein Gedi is a nature reserve nearby with naturally forming fresh water pools scattered through the sandy mountains. We hiked for about an hour, then spent an hour swimming and eating in the shade. It was so gorgeous, and amazing to swim after hiking. I had the chance to talk to lots of people in our group whom I haven’t been spending much time with, which is always one of my favorite parts of these hikes. We’re walking up and down these inclines on paths wide enough for one person, so we basically don’t have much of a choice but to chatter with the people right next to us. Of course, I suppose one could note that the walking order is somewhat self-sorting (in O(n) time, it’s a selection sort) (just kidding, I have no idea what I’m talking about) (if you got that, I’m really not that nerdy, let this one go) but I’ve always been inspired to get to know different people during the hikes.

Couldn’t sleep much on the bus ride back to Be’er Sheva after Shabbat since the bus driver was pulling some truly theatrical turns and we even had to stop once since one girl had to throw up on the side of the road. All in all, it was great to get outside for an entire weekend!

Testing 1 2 3

I had my computer science midterm today! I was pretty nervous going in, showed up 45 minutes early to choose a seat and go over material. Of course, it turned out I’d sat in an off-limits seat, which only became clear when student after student tried to sit in seats that weren’t well spaced enough for the exam.

Actually, most of my trouble during the exam had to do with verbal and written instructions. I had a lot of trouble understanding the proctors, two older woman, and their instructions, plus I was confronted with the following guideline on the first page of the test:

“First solve in the scrap book, then copy into the designated place on the answer form."

Now, if you don’t have the slightest idea what a “scrap book” or “answer form” is, you’re probably out of luck. So I spent the first few minutes contemplating writing complete answers in both the test packet and the blank blue book I was given, but fortunately a professor came by and I had it all clarified. Everyone around me was asking questions about depth of explanation, which assumptions to make… there I was asking about the test instructions. I never thought about the extra level of stress that gets added on when being tested in a foreign environment. Familiar sheets and rules bring about a small sense of calm, at least for me, and I guess that was missing today. Fortunately, the test itself wasn’t too bad and I feel okay about it.

This weekend I’m going to the Dead Sea and Ein Gedi with the overseas students so more to come!