29/8/09
Today I am in Tel Aviv. A super crowded city, even residents here have to drive around the block a few times before finding a parking space near their own home! I don't know if I thoroughly explained how Shabbat is in this country but it is important to know that most things shut down. If you need a bathroom and you're nowhere near home, don't count on anywhere to be open except a gas station. I love Shabbat here because everyone is almost forced to take a break. Even if you want to conquer your whole 'to do list' if it involves the world outside of your home, it is not easily achievable. Of course, a lot of bars and movie theaters in the big cities stay open, but for the most part there are less cars on the road and less lights on in the shops and restaurants. Surrounding Shabbat is a special atmosphere, people prepare themselves for relaxing with all sorts of entertainment. Faimilies head to the beaches, there is live music everywhere and people dance in the allyways and streets. All the while delicious Shabbat meals are waiting, simmering, on the stove. Then there is Saturday afternoon when the city begins to come alive again. People come out of their homes to see one another, food begins to be cooked and the smells in the air become more concentrated as the sun sets in the distance. Stores are opened, lights are turned on, and the army radio can be heard in each boutique by passer-bys. Suddenly there is life, the city has a pulse again! By night time the entire community is refreshed and energetic and all things stay open a little later than usual. Next weekend I will be spending Shabbat in the holy city of Jerusalem but before I go there...
Here in Tel Aviv
Then off to the Dead Sea to hike mount Masada
Then off to live in Jerusalem for 5 days
Back to Tel Aviv for the BIG ISRAELI WEDDING
Then up North...Hopefully more hiking and exploring some smaller cities.
That is the game plan so far...I will try my best to post and share.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I have my final in two days and all I can think about is anything else.
I suppose that is the magical thing about studying abroad. You're still studying but your abroad…your horizon broadens, and when you see that there is so much world out there, your studies become just a small component of your life. Or you could see it as your mission to study life, not just text, vocab, and a vicious cycle of rigorous absorption and regurgitation of homeless (no meaningful context) factoids.
Before I jump into the story of the week…you know your in a different country when:
1) Your at a bonfire where it has been advertised that ‘smore-making’ is an activity, yet when you say “smore”, all the other people look at you like you have two heads, as they bravely attempt to assemble the nutella chocolate, British tea biscuits, and pink kosher marshmallows into a sandwich. Then marvel at the concept of the combination of sugars of fats that has become a hot, gooey, and slightly burnt reality in their hands.
2) Nutella and humus on a pita becomes an acceptable combination. Another American equated it to popcorn and m&m’s, a salty sweet surprise. Don’t diss it till you try it, and don’t try it unless you’re in Israel where both condiments are up to par.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem right before Shabbat. I first went to Mount Hertzel, which is a mountain and a monument to the history of Israel, and it’s people. On one side, at the bottom, is the Yad Veshem Holocaust museum to show the lowest state of the Jewish people in history. At the top is the grave of Herztel, the man who theorized and pushed for the creation of a Jewish state; with him there are several Israeli leaders. At the top lies the ideology behind the state of Israel. Finally, on the other side of the mountain, there is a live graveyard that contains the bones of soldiers…from all past wars and current events. This is the price that Israel continues to pay for its existence as a Jewish state. This place was beautiful and I had the opportunity to find my great uncle buried almost near the top with six other paratroopers who died on a mission over 60 years ago.
Reading his name-my last name in Hebrew on that gravestone made me feel as though I was in his presence on top of Mt. Hertzel. Meaning that a man who I had always known to be dead, was suddenly associated with a life. I gained access to a tiny window with a view into his life. A window that I could see through clearly. Previous to this visit, the only portal I could view him through was so far from the reaches of my mind that I needed my father to hold me up with constant and vivid story telling to get just a brief glimpse. This moment finally imprinted his existence into my mind. All the stories I have heard about him are connecting and I am finally getting to know the man in all those stories, the war hero, brother to my grandfather, ect. Here the foundation to understanding my family's past has been laid down. As I placed a rock on his tomb stone (as is customary here) I found comfort in knowing that I will not, from this point on, forget who he is or what he did.
A final note: The holocaust museum I visited has a wonderful mission to give a name to all holocaust victims. So they will no longer be remember as an unfathomable number, but rather as people lost. So if you have family that perished in the Holocaust, it is worthwhile to check their website and see if they have that member logged. If not you can submit an application and send them pictures. A page will be created in their archives so that future generations can understand the loss and start to make connections. So far they have 3,000,000 people.
http://www.yadvashem.org/wps/portal/IY_HON_Welcome
Before I jump into the story of the week…you know your in a different country when:
1) Your at a bonfire where it has been advertised that ‘smore-making’ is an activity, yet when you say “smore”, all the other people look at you like you have two heads, as they bravely attempt to assemble the nutella chocolate, British tea biscuits, and pink kosher marshmallows into a sandwich. Then marvel at the concept of the combination of sugars of fats that has become a hot, gooey, and slightly burnt reality in their hands.
2) Nutella and humus on a pita becomes an acceptable combination. Another American equated it to popcorn and m&m’s, a salty sweet surprise. Don’t diss it till you try it, and don’t try it unless you’re in Israel where both condiments are up to par.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem right before Shabbat. I first went to Mount Hertzel, which is a mountain and a monument to the history of Israel, and it’s people. On one side, at the bottom, is the Yad Veshem Holocaust museum to show the lowest state of the Jewish people in history. At the top is the grave of Herztel, the man who theorized and pushed for the creation of a Jewish state; with him there are several Israeli leaders. At the top lies the ideology behind the state of Israel. Finally, on the other side of the mountain, there is a live graveyard that contains the bones of soldiers…from all past wars and current events. This is the price that Israel continues to pay for its existence as a Jewish state. This place was beautiful and I had the opportunity to find my great uncle buried almost near the top with six other paratroopers who died on a mission over 60 years ago.
Reading his name-my last name in Hebrew on that gravestone made me feel as though I was in his presence on top of Mt. Hertzel. Meaning that a man who I had always known to be dead, was suddenly associated with a life. I gained access to a tiny window with a view into his life. A window that I could see through clearly. Previous to this visit, the only portal I could view him through was so far from the reaches of my mind that I needed my father to hold me up with constant and vivid story telling to get just a brief glimpse. This moment finally imprinted his existence into my mind. All the stories I have heard about him are connecting and I am finally getting to know the man in all those stories, the war hero, brother to my grandfather, ect. Here the foundation to understanding my family's past has been laid down. As I placed a rock on his tomb stone (as is customary here) I found comfort in knowing that I will not, from this point on, forget who he is or what he did.
A final note: The holocaust museum I visited has a wonderful mission to give a name to all holocaust victims. So they will no longer be remember as an unfathomable number, but rather as people lost. So if you have family that perished in the Holocaust, it is worthwhile to check their website and see if they have that member logged. If not you can submit an application and send them pictures. A page will be created in their archives so that future generations can understand the loss and start to make connections. So far they have 3,000,000 people.
http://www.yadvashem.org/wps/portal/IY_HON_Welcome
Sunday, August 16, 2009
ah -hah!
ah-hah is in 'ohhh thats interesting. While there are many different items of interest, I will focus on a couple.
1) Here around Haifa there are beautiful towns and a glorious city. Just 10 km out are Arabic villages that are a little less scenic. However, the flee markets are wonderful and the fruit stands are cheap. We drove through the Druze inhabited villages of Ufsia and Daliat el Carmel. They aren't as well kept...there is trash all around...little hope for recycling. Some say this is due to the apathy of the arabs; however, there is the factoid that villages like these receive less money from the government. It is the Druze I find intriguing. They are a tribe which is extremely loyal to the customs of the country they inhabit. They seem like wonderful acomodating people. Most even serve in the army of Israe. From my experience they make fantastic pita and labneh with zatar. They can only marry other Druze to ensure the survival of their culture (which is fairly religious). One cannot become Druze, they must be born to Druze parents. This begs the question of intermarriage between cousins. Apparently Israel is having the Druze draw blood for matches before they marry their partner. This begs the question...is survival of a race and culture really survival when the procreation of future generations will lead to mutations and other defects? We had a druze man come to class today to answer our questions. Since I didn't know enough Hebrew to ask the question that was burning in my mind and searing the tip of my toungue, I instead asked: "Ma Shem-ha?" He replied: "my name is Abude- Abude"....damn language barrier. hmmmmmmoving on.
2) I need sunglasses real bad. The sun here is nothing to f*%k with. I apologize for the language...I know better than to end a sentence with a preposition. Anyway, I have been searching for some sunglasses. Today I went to the grand Canyon (Hebrew word for mall). I was looking for those little stands that are in the middle of the mall walkways. You know, those little kiosk-tent things where there is one person sitting there, all day, trying to sell you hair wraps, or a dress to wear in a million ways, or your face on a mug, or cheap sunglasses. There are no little kiosks in the malls here. It is a choice between mega cheap flea market glasses or ultra-expensive, high-end, store-bought glasses. The fact that these kiosks don't exist here is ironic due to the fact that most of those little kiosks in the states are manned by Israelis!
1) Here around Haifa there are beautiful towns and a glorious city. Just 10 km out are Arabic villages that are a little less scenic. However, the flee markets are wonderful and the fruit stands are cheap. We drove through the Druze inhabited villages of Ufsia and Daliat el Carmel. They aren't as well kept...there is trash all around...little hope for recycling. Some say this is due to the apathy of the arabs; however, there is the factoid that villages like these receive less money from the government. It is the Druze I find intriguing. They are a tribe which is extremely loyal to the customs of the country they inhabit. They seem like wonderful acomodating people. Most even serve in the army of Israe. From my experience they make fantastic pita and labneh with zatar. They can only marry other Druze to ensure the survival of their culture (which is fairly religious). One cannot become Druze, they must be born to Druze parents. This begs the question of intermarriage between cousins. Apparently Israel is having the Druze draw blood for matches before they marry their partner. This begs the question...is survival of a race and culture really survival when the procreation of future generations will lead to mutations and other defects? We had a druze man come to class today to answer our questions. Since I didn't know enough Hebrew to ask the question that was burning in my mind and searing the tip of my toungue, I instead asked: "Ma Shem-ha?" He replied: "my name is Abude- Abude"....damn language barrier. hmmmmmmoving on.
2) I need sunglasses real bad. The sun here is nothing to f*%k with. I apologize for the language...I know better than to end a sentence with a preposition. Anyway, I have been searching for some sunglasses. Today I went to the grand Canyon (Hebrew word for mall). I was looking for those little stands that are in the middle of the mall walkways. You know, those little kiosk-tent things where there is one person sitting there, all day, trying to sell you hair wraps, or a dress to wear in a million ways, or your face on a mug, or cheap sunglasses. There are no little kiosks in the malls here. It is a choice between mega cheap flea market glasses or ultra-expensive, high-end, store-bought glasses. The fact that these kiosks don't exist here is ironic due to the fact that most of those little kiosks in the states are manned by Israelis!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
half way there
12-8-2009
Tomorrow I face my first Ulpan exam. I have been fully immersed in the language while here and I knew absolutely nothing before, so i figure there is nothing to really get worked up about. Today I ran in the Carmel national park next to campus. Running on mountain side trails I watched sunset and orthodox families passing by. Some men dressed in all black...looooooong beards. Several older women and one two three four....wait there are two babies in that carriage...and oh there is some older children trailing behind...and oh she is pregnant...oh and there is another toddler. The religious families here have many offspring...so much in fact that we are going to volunteer to pack food so all their children can eat. As the trails were getting pitch dark I saw a shooting star...which was made what seemed like one of the average days way less mundane.
Tomorrow I face my first Ulpan exam. I have been fully immersed in the language while here and I knew absolutely nothing before, so i figure there is nothing to really get worked up about. Today I ran in the Carmel national park next to campus. Running on mountain side trails I watched sunset and orthodox families passing by. Some men dressed in all black...looooooong beards. Several older women and one two three four....wait there are two babies in that carriage...and oh there is some older children trailing behind...and oh she is pregnant...oh and there is another toddler. The religious families here have many offspring...so much in fact that we are going to volunteer to pack food so all their children can eat. As the trails were getting pitch dark I saw a shooting star...which was made what seemed like one of the average days way less mundane.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Golan Heights 7/8/2009
A few minor observations before I delve into the trip that I took today.
1) Chinese food is very very good in Israel. Not as greasy.
2) Practicing my Hebrew is difficult because if you don't speak fast enough Israeli's will start to practice their english on you instead.
3) The dairy products...oh man...any dairy product... cottage cheese, yogurt, ice cream, cheese....is far superior to what we get in North America.
4) No salad dressing to be found anywhere, but hummus and fresh squeezed lemon is a good substitute.
I remember a particularly hot day in a foreign land. A tour guide with a wooden leg, which he used to help me cross a barbed wire fence. Then fence far behind me I focused on the danger of the cliffs up ahead and the strong winds that took my small body forward and backward if I didn't crouch close enough to the ground. Combating the winds took energy which was provided from sweet fresh grown melons. Then back through the fence, back into the dusty jeep, driving down from the cliffs I fell asleep. About 16 years later I finally rose to find myself in the same place. Today I re-encountered the Golan Heights, an area in the North of Israel, bordering Syria. A place that is currently considered one of the main hopes for peace in the middle east. A place where fresh figs, olives, grapes, and sabra fruit grow in abundance around you. The heights overlooking the sea of Galilee, with trails that will lead you to hidden pools and waterfalls. Why did I ever leave?
Hiking in Israel:
At times I found myself in a tight squeeze. Occasionally passing by abandoned syrian bomb shelters with barbed wire to my right to keep me from crossing into the mine fields. Thorny vines to my left. Cold stream water and jagged rocks beneath me. Covered in bees from time to time [my first bee sting ever was today...AWESOME] . Leaning on rocks that were scalding hot due to baking in the summer sun. A poor out of shape chinese kid who never hiked before in his life and seemed to fart an awful lot. This hike was amazing. I loved every piece of it, the hot, the cold, the sting, the burning sun, refreshing shade. Hiking, which is apparently a common pass time in Israel, really allowed me to experience the land. I didn't just recognize a place, I replanted my roots.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
5:30 rise and shine to late night falafel
Let me share my first day of classes: August 4th, 2009
Jet lag is a B*&ch. I don't sleep during the night exactly. I had a energy inside of me that I couldn't ignore so I awoke to see the sunrise from my balcony. After taking some photos from there I realized it was a perfect opportunity to acquaint myself with Haifa while the streets are quiet and the sky beautifully lit with pink and orange. At 5:50am I leave my dorm (which is awesome...I have my own bathroom!) and hop on the first bus that comes to the loop. My first time with Israeli public transportation. I sit on the bus as it takes me downtown. My university is on the top of the hill overlooking the city, so the ride down is a panorama of sea, sky, and city buildings. We come to the final stop on the bus and I have no choice but to get off. I wander a little toward the city and find myself in a marketplace. Nothing is open, its not even 7am. What is open is a bakery with an alluring smell of sweet and savory rolls and pita. I step in and look around, imagine the freshest bread possible, every roll is still warm from the oven that had housed. A man starts to talk to me, I have no words in Hebrew, then he realizes I am american....
His name was Niseem and we started to chat. He was more hospitable than I thought possible. First, he helped me pick out my breakfast which was delicious. He then asked me some questions and responded with invitations to dinner with his family on saturdays, offers to see the city and pools and beaches, and to teach me about the different arabs. "Be careful about the Arabs, stay away from them, don't trust them, they don't know what they want." He compared them to the "Nigger- folk in the united states". He spoke a lot about how I had to open my mind to these things. Of course, I am thinking to myself that he seems close minded and his remarks are Ironic. We had a lovely chat, after which I realized that he sincerely wanted to help me out in the next five months, especially because I am Jewish. I snapped a photo and said goodbye (I wanted to get some fruit from the markets (fruit here is FREAKIN DELICIOUS AND CHEAP), he asked me my name and I said "Maya" to which he said...well that is the name of this here bakery (more or less). How serendipidous that I should just happen to take a bus and just happen to get off at a stop, where there just happens to only be one shop open that is a bakery, and in all of Israel...my first day...my first purchase of food...has my name on the receipt.
Mind you, Niseem is an Arab name. He is Arab and he is right that I do need to be careful here. I want to talk more with him and learn how to open my eyes to the social dynamics of the middle east. It would be close minded to call a man who is deeply en routed in his own culture, has lived in the middle east all his life and visited other countries, a close minded man. I look forward to morning bakery visits and perhaps forming my own connections with the people here in Haifa. I arrive back at my dorm, it's 9:30...classes start in half an hour.
Now after two days of Ulpan classes (about 5 hours a day, and 2-3 of homework) I can read and write Hebrew. I know the alphabet and not just one handfull but two or three of different phrases. I am rubbing elbows with other international students from Japan, Germany, Switzerland, the UK, Italy...ect.
Finally, 8:30 at night and it dawns on me that I am starving. Hop onto another bus. At night these buses get crowded with all sorts of people, the night life here is thriving (even on a tuesday). I have discovered the joys of late night falafel, despite the day I have had, the signs that I can't read, the stores being closed, there is always a man with a falafel and fresh Israeli hummus and salads right around the corner.
Jet lag is a B*&ch. I don't sleep during the night exactly. I had a energy inside of me that I couldn't ignore so I awoke to see the sunrise from my balcony. After taking some photos from there I realized it was a perfect opportunity to acquaint myself with Haifa while the streets are quiet and the sky beautifully lit with pink and orange. At 5:50am I leave my dorm (which is awesome...I have my own bathroom!) and hop on the first bus that comes to the loop. My first time with Israeli public transportation. I sit on the bus as it takes me downtown. My university is on the top of the hill overlooking the city, so the ride down is a panorama of sea, sky, and city buildings. We come to the final stop on the bus and I have no choice but to get off. I wander a little toward the city and find myself in a marketplace. Nothing is open, its not even 7am. What is open is a bakery with an alluring smell of sweet and savory rolls and pita. I step in and look around, imagine the freshest bread possible, every roll is still warm from the oven that had housed. A man starts to talk to me, I have no words in Hebrew, then he realizes I am american....
His name was Niseem and we started to chat. He was more hospitable than I thought possible. First, he helped me pick out my breakfast which was delicious. He then asked me some questions and responded with invitations to dinner with his family on saturdays, offers to see the city and pools and beaches, and to teach me about the different arabs. "Be careful about the Arabs, stay away from them, don't trust them, they don't know what they want." He compared them to the "Nigger- folk in the united states". He spoke a lot about how I had to open my mind to these things. Of course, I am thinking to myself that he seems close minded and his remarks are Ironic. We had a lovely chat, after which I realized that he sincerely wanted to help me out in the next five months, especially because I am Jewish. I snapped a photo and said goodbye (I wanted to get some fruit from the markets (fruit here is FREAKIN DELICIOUS AND CHEAP), he asked me my name and I said "Maya" to which he said...well that is the name of this here bakery (more or less). How serendipidous that I should just happen to take a bus and just happen to get off at a stop, where there just happens to only be one shop open that is a bakery, and in all of Israel...my first day...my first purchase of food...has my name on the receipt.
Mind you, Niseem is an Arab name. He is Arab and he is right that I do need to be careful here. I want to talk more with him and learn how to open my eyes to the social dynamics of the middle east. It would be close minded to call a man who is deeply en routed in his own culture, has lived in the middle east all his life and visited other countries, a close minded man. I look forward to morning bakery visits and perhaps forming my own connections with the people here in Haifa. I arrive back at my dorm, it's 9:30...classes start in half an hour.
Now after two days of Ulpan classes (about 5 hours a day, and 2-3 of homework) I can read and write Hebrew. I know the alphabet and not just one handfull but two or three of different phrases. I am rubbing elbows with other international students from Japan, Germany, Switzerland, the UK, Italy...ect.
Finally, 8:30 at night and it dawns on me that I am starving. Hop onto another bus. At night these buses get crowded with all sorts of people, the night life here is thriving (even on a tuesday). I have discovered the joys of late night falafel, despite the day I have had, the signs that I can't read, the stores being closed, there is always a man with a falafel and fresh Israeli hummus and salads right around the corner.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
My transition in two parts
8/2/2009
I left from New York City and ventured to Munich where I had a layover for two hours. The food on the airplane was actually delicious. Flying Lufthansa is the way to go! While the food was surprisingly refreshing the double frisking in the airport and the exchange rate of US to euros was not. I found that I was actually all alone on my trip, no other students from my program decided to hop on the flight. Fortunately, I was saved from a long and lonely voyage to Haifa University by my good family friends. And now here I am in Israel, it is hot, hot, hot. I enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal after three plane-cooked ones. I have not slept in well over 24 hours but I am wired with excitement and fresh new tastes. I take comfort in knowing that at least the physical transportation part of the transition has ceased. I now look forward to bringing in the balance (aka overcoming my jet lag) I already feel at home here, but the real test comes tomorrow when I take my placement exam for the language Ulpan... basically admitting to them that I know nothing ( I wish I knew how to say 'nothing' in Hebrew, at least then there would be a little irony to it!)
-Maya
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