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!

Caught ya

I must say, friends and family, I’m a little disappointed in you. Since I sent my shameless self soliciting email with recent blog entries attached, readership has grown by 400%. So. Even if you all don't remember that I exist, I haven’t forgotten, and continue to write, if not to give you a small window into study abroad, then for me to look back years down the road (assuming the servers storing my thoughts haven’t crashed and burned by then) and think about how great it was back when I could just pack up and spend half a year on the other side of the globe.

Last night I had the chance to meet up with two family friends who are spending a year between high school and college in Israel. We’ve all been here for over a month but just now got together. To all of our parents: I have proof in the form of a digital photo of the fact that we did meet up! I’ll send it to you at some point. (I haven’t been so good about the picture thing lately.) Anyway, it was really great to see them and hey, if you two are reading this, you owe me a trip to the university so I can show you my… um… kitchen.

Actually, I had an idiotic moment as we were walking into the restaurant for dinner. Getting used to the bag checking phenomenon is a pain every time I come back to Israel, but I’ve had it down pat lately, especially since I hesitated every time I entered a building in Spain, expecting someone to tap my purse a few times with a black stick. Anyway, as we walked into this restaurant, I automatically held my bag out to the first guy dressed in black I saw by the door. Turns out it was only a waiter standing outside with a couple friends to smoke. He just looked at me, probably wondering what on earth I was trying to offer him out of my purse, and I looked at him, wondering why this useless security guard didn’t even have a black stick. Figured it out pretty quickly as soon as we walked through the doors and saw the real security guy stationed on his stool, black stick included. I’m dumb.

That’s all for now folks, but amazingly enough, there will be more later this week, and even more after that, so please do come back :).

Foreigner

One of the times I miss home most is when I’m calling my house from my cell phone or from Skype. No, it’s not the thrill of hearing the voices of my beloved family members, but the much anticipated American dial tone that graces my ears as I wait for them to pick up. That “beeeeeep…. beeeeeeeep…,” sounding like more like a growl, or a long burp, than its European cousins, never fails to bring a wistful smile to my lips. I guess I could say the same of the crunchy Pepperidge Farm goldfish and thin mint Girl Scout cookies I delightedly discovered in the family carry-on and quickly devoured during our first few hours settling in together in Spain. The fact of the matter is that no matter how Westernized Israel becomes, it’s still no America.

Most people would say that’s a good thing, and many would say that the extent to which it actually has Americanized during the course of the past few decades has all but destroyed its character and charm. I can see both good and bad in Israel’s metamorphosis, but that’s not my point. Maybe I’m too sensitive to the very, very… verrrrryyyy… specific differences (i.e., shape of toilet flushers, style of traffic lights, aesthetic of prescription medicines, the way Hebrew looks on a receipt), but despite all my blabber about how nice it is to integrate into the Be’er Sheva university community, sometimes I feel completely lost.

The truth is that while succeeding to do things the Israeli way and not being the sucker most of the time makes me feel pretty good, sometimes I stop and think, do I really want to be hanging around a place where I always have to be on the defensive/have to be a total jerk to get what I want? The other day I arrived in the laundry room, and after sticking my first load into the machine, started putting the rest of my clothes into a second washer. The girl at the machine next to me looked up and said, “Oh, I was going to use that one.” Now, she hadn’t actually touched the thing, and it was clear that she had two other washers under her jurisdiction (granted, it looked like she was sharing them with someone else, for some reason). I kind of looked at her with exasperation, but before formulating an argument, someone else sitting in the room pointed out that two other washers had finished their cycles and the clothes owners should be on their way over. I turned to the girl and said, “Do you want to wait, or should I?” She shrugged and said, “Well, I guess you can take it.” So in theory, I won! I got the washer which I had claimed by creating a reality on the ground (i.e., my clothing in it). Still didn’t feel so good. She had gotten there first, after all.

Maybe I’m hyper-obsessed with the notion of fairness – everyone should get their share/their turn/what they deserve. (Could be backlash of being one of four siblings, though I’m the oldest, so I should be more okay with the equality thing by now, so maybe I missed something in my mental development.) I just wish I didn’t feel like I have to gear up for battle every time I need to get something done around here.

(For the record, it did feel good to stand up to a woman at the grocery store last week who claimed to have been in line behind the guy right in front of me despite her seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, by frowning, mumbling some words of semi-comprehensible argumentative Hebrew, and blockading her with my torso. That was cool.)