On the train ride from Tel Aviv to Akko I was sitting across from a woman and her little boy, who couldn't have been older than three. As we were stopped at one station a whole crowd of chayalim (soldiers) boarded the train. The boy began speaking excitedly about how one day he's going to be a soldier like those men. He was literally bouncing up and down in his seat trying to show his mother how he wants to be in the Tzahal.
This proves just how big a role the Tzahal plays in Israeli culture. It seemed so natural for this little boy to look up to these chayalim and want to be like them.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Turkey Day
There is no holiday more American and more universally celebrated than Thanksgiving. It is also a term synonymous with the idea of a big family meal. With that in mind, it is therefore no surprise
that there was much talk amongst the American participants of my group in the weeks leading up to this great holiday as to how best to celebrate this day. While many of the Year Coursers in my section opted for a communal meal to be held at the building we take classes in, my apartment decided that this was an occassion for family so we planned a relatively small Thanksgiving for our "family" here in Israel. Me and three of my roommates (Tal, Melanie and Ilana) along with our friend Diana prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal for ourselves. Each of us tackled one or two dishes and there was nonstop cooking in our kitchen the 3 days prior to Thanksgiving.
that there was much talk amongst the American participants of my group in the weeks leading up to this great holiday as to how best to celebrate this day. While many of the Year Coursers in my section opted for a communal meal to be held at the building we take classes in, my apartment decided that this was an occassion for family so we planned a relatively small Thanksgiving for our "family" here in Israel. Me and three of my roommates (Tal, Melanie and Ilana) along with our friend Diana prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal for ourselves. Each of us tackled one or two dishes and there was nonstop cooking in our kitchen the 3 days prior to Thanksgiving.The end result: turrkey and stuffing (courtesy of Ilana Beller), cornbread and string beans (prepared by Tal Shtulsaft), sweetpotatoes (made by Melanie 
Rice), roast potatoes (from Diana Blatt) and pumpking pie and cranberry sauce (done by yours truly). Suffice to say we were extraordinarily proud of ourselves.
Rice), roast potatoes (from Diana Blatt) and pumpking pie and cranberry sauce (done by yours truly). Suffice to say we were extraordinarily proud of ourselves.Not only did we cook a fantastic meal, but we did a spontaneous yet vigorous cleaning of the apartment, dressed in nicer clothing, and Mel and Ilana even made turkey hands as place cards.
To round out a pretty spectacular evening, we all ended up falling asleep on the couch after the meal watching Friends Thanksgiving episodes.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Super Dush
Super Dush: The one and only. The big supermarket in Bat Yam, located in the mall. It is crowded and busy at all times of the day, but always an adventure to shop at.
Frozen food section
Waiting online at the meat counterFrozen food section
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Dialogue in the Dark
People so often forget that there is so much more to Israel than what we read in the news. Though only 60 years old, it is one of the world leaders in technological, medicine and agricultural innovations. It also has much to offer culturally, with world renowned orchestras, films, plays, concerts and museums. The three most interesting museums I have ever been to were all in Israel. (The first two are the Palmach Museum in Tel Aviv and the Herzl Museum on Har Herzl in Jerusalem.) The third is a much less known institute near the Children's Museum in Holon, called Dialogue in the Dark.
In the words of our guide, Dialogue in the Dark is not for stepping into the shoes of those with disability but rather learn to use other abilities. That is to say that 80% of the senses we use is sight. We are so reliant on our ability to see that all the other senses combined are only 1/5 of what we use to create our perceptions of the world around us. During the hour that we were in the exhibit, we walked in the pitch dark relying solely on our other four senses to create a picture of where we were. We began in a room that simulated a jungle scene with animal sounds, a waterfall, trees and a bridge. After crossing the bridge the leader guided us all onto benches in a mock boat that swayed along with the waves that we heard crashing all around us. Our next room was a child's bedroom with a table and bed and the usual assortment of toys and stuff. The following area was on the streets of a city with a garbage can, traffic light, store windows, etc. I loved the next room, which was a produce store. Walking along the walls we used our senses of touch and smell to figure out all the different fruits and vegetables (they were real). In the next section the guide instructed us to lie on the floor. From here we listened to an eclectic medley of music all while feeling the vibrations through the ground. The final room actually held a small snack bar where visitors can purchase and eat small snacks in the dark while we sat around a table talking with our guide.
Something I didn't mention before is that all the guides at Dialogue in the Dark are blind. It is impossible to describe how much this detail enhances the experience. When speaking to him in the final room he continuously stressed the point that he and others who are similarly impaired just want to be treated like any other person. A couple examples he gave us: there is no need to speak louder- he's blind not deaf. If you're helping a blind person on a bus don't simply drag them by the arm. This leaves them feeling like an object instead of a person. Our guide does not actually work there full time. He is a grandfather and works in alternative medicine.
One final anecdote: at the beginning of the tour, the guide touched each of our hands in turn and asked our names. When I said my name he said back to me "Devora?", so I repeated my name and he once again said "Devora". So from then on, every time he'd touch my hand to guide me and go "This Devora?" I would simply respond in the affirmative. (This has happened frequently, when Israelis think my name is Devora).
In the words of our guide, Dialogue in the Dark is not for stepping into the shoes of those with disability but rather learn to use other abilities. That is to say that 80% of the senses we use is sight. We are so reliant on our ability to see that all the other senses combined are only 1/5 of what we use to create our perceptions of the world around us. During the hour that we were in the exhibit, we walked in the pitch dark relying solely on our other four senses to create a picture of where we were. We began in a room that simulated a jungle scene with animal sounds, a waterfall, trees and a bridge. After crossing the bridge the leader guided us all onto benches in a mock boat that swayed along with the waves that we heard crashing all around us. Our next room was a child's bedroom with a table and bed and the usual assortment of toys and stuff. The following area was on the streets of a city with a garbage can, traffic light, store windows, etc. I loved the next room, which was a produce store. Walking along the walls we used our senses of touch and smell to figure out all the different fruits and vegetables (they were real). In the next section the guide instructed us to lie on the floor. From here we listened to an eclectic medley of music all while feeling the vibrations through the ground. The final room actually held a small snack bar where visitors can purchase and eat small snacks in the dark while we sat around a table talking with our guide.
Something I didn't mention before is that all the guides at Dialogue in the Dark are blind. It is impossible to describe how much this detail enhances the experience. When speaking to him in the final room he continuously stressed the point that he and others who are similarly impaired just want to be treated like any other person. A couple examples he gave us: there is no need to speak louder- he's blind not deaf. If you're helping a blind person on a bus don't simply drag them by the arm. This leaves them feeling like an object instead of a person. Our guide does not actually work there full time. He is a grandfather and works in alternative medicine.
One final anecdote: at the beginning of the tour, the guide touched each of our hands in turn and asked our names. When I said my name he said back to me "Devora?", so I repeated my name and he once again said "Devora". So from then on, every time he'd touch my hand to guide me and go "This Devora?" I would simply respond in the affirmative. (This has happened frequently, when Israelis think my name is Devora).
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Israeli Graffiti
There are two pieces of graffiti that you will find all over Israel on any surface that can be written on. The first is very simply "Am Yisrael Chai" with a Jewish star underneath, and the second is the slogan of the Breslov Jews "Na Nach Nachma Nachman Me'uman".
Where else in the world would the most common words scrawled on walls be patriotic and religious phrases?
A stroll along the Tayelet
In the mind of a Young Judaean who has grown up through all the summer camps and conventions, there is a certain set of places in Israel that are considered landmarks. Whether it was because of the oh-so-popular peulah about Places in Israel or the Peulat Erev that simulates various cultural spots in Israel, we've all known the Tayelet as "the hip place to go at night, with lots of cafes, bars and restaurants."
(The blue indicates where we walked- beginning at the bottom and going north).
My friends and I decided to walk along the Tayelet (boardwalk) last night to get that "must have Israeli experience". We got off the bus in Yafo, which is directly south of Tel Aviv. As we head North with the old city of Yafo at our backs we realize we may have begun a little before the major commercial hub. This gave us time to enjoy the walk in the beautifully maintained path alongside the Mediterranean. The grassy island separating us from the main road was sprinkled with sculptures, artistic floral arrangements, kids playgrounds and exercise playgrounds for adults.
Once the noises of Tel Aviv nightlife returned we started scouting out places to eat. You knew you were in a touristy area when the menus outside the stores all had English. I was very happy when I got a hamburger at one of those Israeli shwarma/schnitzel places that have the combined bonus of being cheap and very, very filling with their bowls of salads and eggplant and pickles all laid out on the counter for you to take. My friends were equally excited by their yogurt from a store that was the complete opposite of mine: chic, modern, (and dairy). They got to put anything from kiwi to chocolate syrup to pecans on their yogurt while i got to sit in a chair that was literally a swing hanging from the ceiling.
We continued up along the tayelet until a brief encounter with a couple arsim at which point we decided to turn in for the night and made our way into Tel Aviv to the bus stop by Kikar Rabin. It was a great place to go for a stroll. 
(The blue indicates where we walked- beginning at the bottom and going north).
Friday, November 20, 2009
HA-TZA-GA PLAY! HA-TZA-GA PLAY!
Every year the 6th graders at the school I volunteer at put on an elaborate English play. This year they are doing a production of "The Prince and the Pauper". They begin practicing almost 4 months in advance, rotating between rehearsing lines, songs and dances.
Working with kita vav (6th grade) on this project has definitely been the highlight of my time at this school. I finally understand what my teachers meant by the "joys of teaching students who want to learn". These talmidim are so enthusiastic about this play and are so motivated to make it a success that you can't help wanting to share in this experience.
Me and the two other girls from Year Course work with students individually on their lines, helping with pronunciation, memorization and especially how to play their parts. Students who may under normal circumstances resent working with us in their notebooks are eager to get the sounds right and make the intonations convincing.
While we work in a small room upstairs, our lovely spacious English room has been temporarily taken hostage by our other friends, three Tsofim girls who are part of Year Course as their year of service (Shnat Sherut) before joining the army. They are in charge of choreographing and teaching the musical numbers to the students- a daunting task that requires an incredible amount of patience.
Though we are leaving this school and Bat Yam in a couple short weeks we are eagerly anticipating returning to see the final production in February.
Working with kita vav (6th grade) on this project has definitely been the highlight of my time at this school. I finally understand what my teachers meant by the "joys of teaching students who want to learn". These talmidim are so enthusiastic about this play and are so motivated to make it a success that you can't help wanting to share in this experience.
Me and the two other girls from Year Course work with students individually on their lines, helping with pronunciation, memorization and especially how to play their parts. Students who may under normal circumstances resent working with us in their notebooks are eager to get the sounds right and make the intonations convincing.
While we work in a small room upstairs, our lovely spacious English room has been temporarily taken hostage by our other friends, three Tsofim girls who are part of Year Course as their year of service (Shnat Sherut) before joining the army. They are in charge of choreographing and teaching the musical numbers to the students- a daunting task that requires an incredible amount of patience.
Though we are leaving this school and Bat Yam in a couple short weeks we are eagerly anticipating returning to see the final production in February.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
A bureaucracy is a bureaucracy no matter what language you speak.
Israel excels in the department of bureaucratic shenanigans, a skill perfected most spectacularly by the Misrad Hapanim, Department of Interior.
Several days ago I learned that because I arrived to the program late I (naturally) had to renew my visa on my own. Since Young Judaea had done this service for every other participant it clearly didn't make sense that they would then show me the same courtesy. After being handed my passport, a form they were so generous enough to fill out for me, and the address of the Ministry of Interior in Holon they suggested I wake up early today, Tuesday morning, before my siyur that was not scheduled until 12:30pm.
Fine. No big deal. So I was a little pissed that they weren't taking care of this, and that they weren't sending me with a staff member and that they weren't even offering to reimburse me for my taxi ride but I set that aside.
As instructed I woke up around 6 this morning. Before leaving I thought it a good idea to double check online the address and hours of operation. When I arrive to their website the only office I see is the address for the one in Tel Aviv. A little more searching brings me to a listing of office hours where I notice that the Holon office is not open Tuesday mornings, only the central office in Tel Aviv. Over the course of the next 15 minutes and with the aide of google maps, a bus map and the "Dan" bus line website I finally figure out which bus I can take to this office. (Once I got off the bus at the intersection I had memorized I realized I knew exactly where I was and had actually been there several days before. But anyway...)
I eventually find the office for the Ministry of the Interior, ask for instructions from several workers before finally locating the room for visa renewal, take a number and wait. And wait. And wait another 2 hours before my number is called. I approach the desk, hand over my form and the lady tells me "את צריכה להיות בחולון. אם את גרה בבת ים את צריכה לעשות את זה בחולון" Roughly translated that means: Laura, congratulations, you're back to square one. Turns out, I can't get my visa renewed at the central office. Looking back at it now I guess that kind of makes sense but how was I supposed to know?
I got on an express bus back to Bat Yam. Once I got off I grabbed a taxi to the Holon office. If I had been in a slightly less agitated state I probably would have argued with the driver who raised the price by giving the excuse: "I thought you meant Yafo. If we're going to Holon then that's more"...except that we were already in Holon which made no sense. I can't stand taxi drivers.
I finally get to the Holon place, going through the same process as before of trying to find out where to go and such. I wait there for another hour before I was called. The actual visa renewal took no more than 5 minutes and would have been even shorter if the woman behind the counter didn't keep stopping to talk to her coworkers about what they were each bringing for their friend's birthday party.
I can now legally stay in Israel until June! And yet, my morning wasn't over. I still had to get home. I was disinclined to have to take another taxi and spend another obscene amount of money so I began to walk back the way I came in the hope that I would eventually pass a bus stop with a familiar bus line. I eventually jumped on a bus that I had recognized as being able to connect at some point with the 19, a bus that would take me right to my apartment. I finally got something right, found the stop, got on the 19 and came home in time to see that I would be missing that day's siyur.
Several days ago I learned that because I arrived to the program late I (naturally) had to renew my visa on my own. Since Young Judaea had done this service for every other participant it clearly didn't make sense that they would then show me the same courtesy. After being handed my passport, a form they were so generous enough to fill out for me, and the address of the Ministry of Interior in Holon they suggested I wake up early today, Tuesday morning, before my siyur that was not scheduled until 12:30pm.
Fine. No big deal. So I was a little pissed that they weren't taking care of this, and that they weren't sending me with a staff member and that they weren't even offering to reimburse me for my taxi ride but I set that aside.
As instructed I woke up around 6 this morning. Before leaving I thought it a good idea to double check online the address and hours of operation. When I arrive to their website the only office I see is the address for the one in Tel Aviv. A little more searching brings me to a listing of office hours where I notice that the Holon office is not open Tuesday mornings, only the central office in Tel Aviv. Over the course of the next 15 minutes and with the aide of google maps, a bus map and the "Dan" bus line website I finally figure out which bus I can take to this office. (Once I got off the bus at the intersection I had memorized I realized I knew exactly where I was and had actually been there several days before. But anyway...)
I eventually find the office for the Ministry of the Interior, ask for instructions from several workers before finally locating the room for visa renewal, take a number and wait. And wait. And wait another 2 hours before my number is called. I approach the desk, hand over my form and the lady tells me "את צריכה להיות בחולון. אם את גרה בבת ים את צריכה לעשות את זה בחולון" Roughly translated that means: Laura, congratulations, you're back to square one. Turns out, I can't get my visa renewed at the central office. Looking back at it now I guess that kind of makes sense but how was I supposed to know?
I got on an express bus back to Bat Yam. Once I got off I grabbed a taxi to the Holon office. If I had been in a slightly less agitated state I probably would have argued with the driver who raised the price by giving the excuse: "I thought you meant Yafo. If we're going to Holon then that's more"...except that we were already in Holon which made no sense. I can't stand taxi drivers.
I finally get to the Holon place, going through the same process as before of trying to find out where to go and such. I wait there for another hour before I was called. The actual visa renewal took no more than 5 minutes and would have been even shorter if the woman behind the counter didn't keep stopping to talk to her coworkers about what they were each bringing for their friend's birthday party.
I can now legally stay in Israel until June! And yet, my morning wasn't over. I still had to get home. I was disinclined to have to take another taxi and spend another obscene amount of money so I began to walk back the way I came in the hope that I would eventually pass a bus stop with a familiar bus line. I eventually jumped on a bus that I had recognized as being able to connect at some point with the 19, a bus that would take me right to my apartment. I finally got something right, found the stop, got on the 19 and came home in time to see that I would be missing that day's siyur.
Congratulations Israel, you have beaten the New York DMV for the title of most ludicrously inefficient bureaucracy.
Garin Tzedek Update
Last week, my section began volunteering two nights a week teaching English to adult Sudanese refugees in Tel Aviv (at the same location as the gan that we had painted earlier). With close to a dozen of us each night, we were able to offer individual attention by breaking off into small groups of no more than four students and engaging them in conversation.
Our goal was a simple one: converse with them and make them feel comfortable speaking English. Without any instructions as to specific topics most conversations began simply with inquires into how their day was, where they live and work, etc. Skill levels varied from being able to understand me and string together full sentences to nodding along vigorously in feigned understanding and being unable to respond to my questions.
Their gratitude towards us was unending and sincere. Seeing how they improved even in the short time we were with them provided us with instant gratification in return. They were patient yet eager to improve, in good spirits despite their long days at work and full of a passion for learning that I have never seen in any of my own school years...ever.
However, the best part of the experience for us was when they would begin telling us about their lives back home in Sudan, their journeys to Israel and their hopes for the future. Whether it was telling me about how they owned camels and donkeys as means of transportation, or how they grew mangoes back in Sudan, or how each tribe has its own distinct language and how much they don't like Arabic, or how poorly they were treated back in Egypt or how they had to escape over the border into Israel but were caught or how they were in prison here for 6 months before being given a temporary visa, our discussion provided me with the opportunity to get a glimpse into the lives of these Sudanese refugees.
Our goal was a simple one: converse with them and make them feel comfortable speaking English. Without any instructions as to specific topics most conversations began simply with inquires into how their day was, where they live and work, etc. Skill levels varied from being able to understand me and string together full sentences to nodding along vigorously in feigned understanding and being unable to respond to my questions.
Their gratitude towards us was unending and sincere. Seeing how they improved even in the short time we were with them provided us with instant gratification in return. They were patient yet eager to improve, in good spirits despite their long days at work and full of a passion for learning that I have never seen in any of my own school years...ever.
However, the best part of the experience for us was when they would begin telling us about their lives back home in Sudan, their journeys to Israel and their hopes for the future. Whether it was telling me about how they owned camels and donkeys as means of transportation, or how they grew mangoes back in Sudan, or how each tribe has its own distinct language and how much they don't like Arabic, or how poorly they were treated back in Egypt or how they had to escape over the border into Israel but were caught or how they were in prison here for 6 months before being given a temporary visa, our discussion provided me with the opportunity to get a glimpse into the lives of these Sudanese refugees.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Rabin Rally
It rained last weekend and so the Rabin memorial was to be postponed until November 8th, yesterday. I had heard stories about the Rabin rally since my middle school years at Solomon Schechter and so my expectations were very high.
When I first arrived it was as expected: a four block radius of streets blocked off in all directions, hundreds of people flocking to the square that for the past 14 years has held the name of "Kikar Rabin" as a constant reminder of the tragedy that had occurred there. A huge stage had been erected up front along with two giant screens projecting the event for those of us who were in the back. There were so many people that the rally overflowed onto surrrounding streets where people could be seen sitting on the curbs just listening to the music and speeches.
A couple friends and I finally found a spot to sit beneath the Holocaust memorial sculpture towards the back of the square. We heard Shimon Perez and Ehud Barak and Tzipi Livni. The leader of the Meretz party, the mayor of Tel Aviv and there even was a recorded message from Obama.
There were two types of speeches. The first began by speaking of the sorrow in the aftermath of Rabin's death and how devastating this was to the Israeli people. It then continued to say how in order for us to attain peace we must never give up land and we must fight for what is rightfully ours and that the left is ruining any chances we have. The second type of speech started with how terrible Rabin's murder was and how we must rid the world of people like Yigal Amir, his killer. They then spoke about how people like Yigal Amir, those right wing crazies, are the ones who are stopping any chance we have of peace and how we must fight the right wing if we want a better future for Israel.
I can't imagine what Rabin would be thinking if he saw what this rally has degenerated into. What had begun as a rally for peace was nothing more than a political gathering that gave politicians free airtime to promote their party's agenda. This aspect of the rally was disappointing.
However it was still very exciting to listen to performances by artists such as Miri Masika and Hadag Nachash. What was also interesting was that despite this being also very much a place to meet up with friends and such, socializing everywhere came to a halt when the siren blared for the moment of silence as well as at the very end for the singing of Hatikva. Those were two moments that remained pure in their symbolism and in their effectiveness at unifying the thousands who stood in that square.
In short, this was yet another Israeli experience that I feel priviledged to have been a part of, though I'll admit it was something of a disappointment.
When I first arrived it was as expected: a four block radius of streets blocked off in all directions, hundreds of people flocking to the square that for the past 14 years has held the name of "Kikar Rabin" as a constant reminder of the tragedy that had occurred there. A huge stage had been erected up front along with two giant screens projecting the event for those of us who were in the back. There were so many people that the rally overflowed onto surrrounding streets where people could be seen sitting on the curbs just listening to the music and speeches.
A couple friends and I finally found a spot to sit beneath the Holocaust memorial sculpture towards the back of the square. We heard Shimon Perez and Ehud Barak and Tzipi Livni. The leader of the Meretz party, the mayor of Tel Aviv and there even was a recorded message from Obama.
There were two types of speeches. The first began by speaking of the sorrow in the aftermath of Rabin's death and how devastating this was to the Israeli people. It then continued to say how in order for us to attain peace we must never give up land and we must fight for what is rightfully ours and that the left is ruining any chances we have. The second type of speech started with how terrible Rabin's murder was and how we must rid the world of people like Yigal Amir, his killer. They then spoke about how people like Yigal Amir, those right wing crazies, are the ones who are stopping any chance we have of peace and how we must fight the right wing if we want a better future for Israel.
I can't imagine what Rabin would be thinking if he saw what this rally has degenerated into. What had begun as a rally for peace was nothing more than a political gathering that gave politicians free airtime to promote their party's agenda. This aspect of the rally was disappointing.
However it was still very exciting to listen to performances by artists such as Miri Masika and Hadag Nachash. What was also interesting was that despite this being also very much a place to meet up with friends and such, socializing everywhere came to a halt when the siren blared for the moment of silence as well as at the very end for the singing of Hatikva. Those were two moments that remained pure in their symbolism and in their effectiveness at unifying the thousands who stood in that square.
In short, this was yet another Israeli experience that I feel priviledged to have been a part of, though I'll admit it was something of a disappointment.
Friday, November 6, 2009
"Yalla yarok yalla!"
Tuesday night we went to a soccer game between Maccabi Haifa and Juventus, an Italian team. From what I understand about the sports world (which is close to nothing), Juventus is an extremely good team and there wasn't a chance that Haifa would actually win. Despite this rather depressing prediction, we all went in pumped and ready to cheer on Haifa along with the rest of the green-clad crowd.
Haifa ended up losing, but it was still extremely fun. A few pieces of advice for anyone planning on attending an Israeli soccer game:
1- Make sure you have a bag of sunflower seeds with you. Learn how to open and eat the seed with one hand (it's an acquired skill that I am coming very close to mastering).
2- The second the game starts you must be seated. You will be rudely shouted at if you stand up at any point in the game other than when your team comes close to making a goal.
3- When you see the entire other side of the stadium raise their arms in unison and shout something indeciferable, be prepared for your side to respond in turn with the other half of the cheer. These Hebrew chants typically followed the pattern of one side shouting "Yarok oleh!" and the other following with a hearty "Oleh, Oleh!" The ruach is pretty effective/infectious when you see an entire stadium with thousands of people shouting in unison.
Sidenote: At least now I know where my madrichim from camp got such creative Hebrew cheers like "Go green go" for our Maccabia games.
Haifa ended up losing, but it was still extremely fun. A few pieces of advice for anyone planning on attending an Israeli soccer game:
1- Make sure you have a bag of sunflower seeds with you. Learn how to open and eat the seed with one hand (it's an acquired skill that I am coming very close to mastering).
2- The second the game starts you must be seated. You will be rudely shouted at if you stand up at any point in the game other than when your team comes close to making a goal.
3- When you see the entire other side of the stadium raise their arms in unison and shout something indeciferable, be prepared for your side to respond in turn with the other half of the cheer. These Hebrew chants typically followed the pattern of one side shouting "Yarok oleh!" and the other following with a hearty "Oleh, Oleh!" The ruach is pretty effective/infectious when you see an entire stadium with thousands of people shouting in unison.
Sidenote: At least now I know where my madrichim from camp got such creative Hebrew cheers like "Go green go" for our Maccabia games.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A Cultural Chavaya
When people say they visited a Druze village or Bedouin tent, what they are really telling you is that they paid a huge sum of money for a meal and a guy in a costume. As someone who has been to several of these tourist traps I was able to better appreciate the uniqueness of this week's siyur.
Our first stop was a town in the Galil, a little north of Haifa, called Julis. There we met with a Druze tour guide who spoke such a mix of Arabic, Hebrew and English that 3 or 4 participants kept up a steady flow of translating phrases back and forth. We visited the burial site of the late spiritual leader Sheikh Aly Faris, and a holy site dedicated to the former leader of
the Druze in Israel, Sheikh Amin Tarif. We learned about marriage rituals, death and mourning customs, proper dress code, the symbolism behind the Druze flag and the significance of Amin Tarif and his influence as the leader of the Israeli Druze. They even offered us Arabic coffee and rugalech and borekas from the nearby bakery. We then spent some time walking around the town, through the winding alleyways and steep steps, absorbing our surroundings and quietly observing the people and land around us. Our final stop in Julis was to our tour guide's brother's olive oil press where we got a quick tour and explanation of how the precious oil is made. (Fun fact: his brother had spent several years in England and thus was able to converse fluently in English...with a British accent).
We then took a 10 minute ride over to the neighboring town of Yarka where we visited with students at the local high school. This was by far one of the most remarkable cultural chavayot I have had the privilege to participate in. I don't know if we were more enthusiastic to get the inside scoop on this mysterious culture or for them to meet Americans who had real high school proms. Though their primary language is Arabic, many of them were fluent enough in English or Hebrew for us to get past this language barrier. Because this was a public school, very few of the students had chosen to go down the religious path thus providing us with a profile of their religion from the perspective of secular teens. They all maintained a strong conviction to their Druze identity and the fundamental principles and religious practices of the religion, but they were almost offended by our assumption that they might not have a Facebook. Not only are we all now friends on this networking site, but
before we left many of us had exchanged numbers and had been invited up to spend a weekend with them in Yarka. These students were some of the most curious, bubbly and open minded people I have ever met.
Our first stop was a town in the Galil, a little north of Haifa, called Julis. There we met with a Druze tour guide who spoke such a mix of Arabic, Hebrew and English that 3 or 4 participants kept up a steady flow of translating phrases back and forth. We visited the burial site of the late spiritual leader Sheikh Aly Faris, and a holy site dedicated to the former leader of
the Druze in Israel, Sheikh Amin Tarif. We learned about marriage rituals, death and mourning customs, proper dress code, the symbolism behind the Druze flag and the significance of Amin Tarif and his influence as the leader of the Israeli Druze. They even offered us Arabic coffee and rugalech and borekas from the nearby bakery. We then spent some time walking around the town, through the winding alleyways and steep steps, absorbing our surroundings and quietly observing the people and land around us. Our final stop in Julis was to our tour guide's brother's olive oil press where we got a quick tour and explanation of how the precious oil is made. (Fun fact: his brother had spent several years in England and thus was able to converse fluently in English...with a British accent).We then took a 10 minute ride over to the neighboring town of Yarka where we visited with students at the local high school. This was by far one of the most remarkable cultural chavayot I have had the privilege to participate in. I don't know if we were more enthusiastic to get the inside scoop on this mysterious culture or for them to meet Americans who had real high school proms. Though their primary language is Arabic, many of them were fluent enough in English or Hebrew for us to get past this language barrier. Because this was a public school, very few of the students had chosen to go down the religious path thus providing us with a profile of their religion from the perspective of secular teens. They all maintained a strong conviction to their Druze identity and the fundamental principles and religious practices of the religion, but they were almost offended by our assumption that they might not have a Facebook. Not only are we all now friends on this networking site, but
before we left many of us had exchanged numbers and had been invited up to spend a weekend with them in Yarka. These students were some of the most curious, bubbly and open minded people I have ever met.
Druze 101
The Druze are a very unique and fascinating people. As a religion founded almost 1000 years ago as an offshoot of Islam, there are only about 1.2 million Druze in the world, with the largest concentration of them living in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Israel. A few basic facts about the Druze religion and culture:
1. They believe in reincarnation. Specifically, they believe that every time someone dies another person is born with the same soul.
2. No one is allowed to convert to be Druze. The population size remains constant because of reincarnation.
3. At the age of 15 Druze boys and girls are given the choice to live a life as a religious or secular Druze. If they choose to go down the religious path, they are allowed to read the series of letters that reveal certain Druze secrets (I don't know if that's also true for women) and both men and women must conform to a dress code of modesty. Approximately 10% of the population choose to become religious.
4. The Druze are loyal to the land they live in. For example, a Druze who lives in Lebanon is first and foremost loyal to the land. In that spirit, all Druze men proudly serve in the IDF (Israeli army) and you always see the Israeli flag flying along side the Druze flag.
5. The Druze make up approximately 2% of Israel's population, living primarily in the Galil and the Golan (Northern Israel). Controversy surrounds those living in the Golan as many who lived in those villages since before the 1967 war maintain allegiance to Syria and have been cut off from family in neighboring villages across the border.
6. If a Druze marries outside the religion they are shunned from the community- no exceptions.
7. If you found any of the above interesting I strongly suggest you watch "The Syrian Bride", a critically acclaimed Israeli film about a young bride from Majdal Shams, a Druze village in the Golan Heights who is being married off to a man on the other side of the border in Syria. It is an immensely powerful and insightful look into Druze society, the personal problems their families must confront, and the political storms their community must weather.
I learned all of this from the siyur (field trip) I took yesterday to a Druze village where we toured the community, visited several holy sites and even had the chance to meet and speak with high school students our age.
1. They believe in reincarnation. Specifically, they believe that every time someone dies another person is born with the same soul.
2. No one is allowed to convert to be Druze. The population size remains constant because of reincarnation.
3. At the age of 15 Druze boys and girls are given the choice to live a life as a religious or secular Druze. If they choose to go down the religious path, they are allowed to read the series of letters that reveal certain Druze secrets (I don't know if that's also true for women) and both men and women must conform to a dress code of modesty. Approximately 10% of the population choose to become religious.
4. The Druze are loyal to the land they live in. For example, a Druze who lives in Lebanon is first and foremost loyal to the land. In that spirit, all Druze men proudly serve in the IDF (Israeli army) and you always see the Israeli flag flying along side the Druze flag.
5. The Druze make up approximately 2% of Israel's population, living primarily in the Galil and the Golan (Northern Israel). Controversy surrounds those living in the Golan as many who lived in those villages since before the 1967 war maintain allegiance to Syria and have been cut off from family in neighboring villages across the border.
6. If a Druze marries outside the religion they are shunned from the community- no exceptions.
7. If you found any of the above interesting I strongly suggest you watch "The Syrian Bride", a critically acclaimed Israeli film about a young bride from Majdal Shams, a Druze village in the Golan Heights who is being married off to a man on the other side of the border in Syria. It is an immensely powerful and insightful look into Druze society, the personal problems their families must confront, and the political storms their community must weather.
I learned all of this from the siyur (field trip) I took yesterday to a Druze village where we toured the community, visited several holy sites and even had the chance to meet and speak with high school students our age.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Two Different Worlds
After our normal tutoring sessions, the English teacher invited me and the other two volunteers to come watch the class practice for a play they will be putting on. For this lesson, the students were performing skits they had prepared in advance whose theme was supposed to be the conflict between two groups.
While some were the silly, nonsense you would expect from a group of 6th graders fooling around most of them provided powerful insight into Israeli society, how the kids viewed their world and how differently children grow up here as opposed to in America. The most fascinating example was when a group of boys (who I could immediately tell were the trouble makers) began acting out a conflict that was actually taking place in Israel. They showed how Arabs were planting trees and then religious Jews would come at night to chop them down. The "Arab" boys called some form of law enforcement and had the "Jew" boys apprehended.
I was seriously impressed not only by the mere fact that this was a subject matter being performed by 12 year olds but they did not take sides in presenting the conflict. Whether the scene involved haggling over the price of something or a showdown between Arabs and Israelis, the children showed an understanding of a world that is much larger than the sheltered bubble that so many kids in America their age grow up in.
While some were the silly, nonsense you would expect from a group of 6th graders fooling around most of them provided powerful insight into Israeli society, how the kids viewed their world and how differently children grow up here as opposed to in America. The most fascinating example was when a group of boys (who I could immediately tell were the trouble makers) began acting out a conflict that was actually taking place in Israel. They showed how Arabs were planting trees and then religious Jews would come at night to chop them down. The "Arab" boys called some form of law enforcement and had the "Jew" boys apprehended.
I was seriously impressed not only by the mere fact that this was a subject matter being performed by 12 year olds but they did not take sides in presenting the conflict. Whether the scene involved haggling over the price of something or a showdown between Arabs and Israelis, the children showed an understanding of a world that is much larger than the sheltered bubble that so many kids in America their age grow up in.
Volunteering
In the mornings I volunteer at an elementary school tutoring English. We normally work with students in 4th-6th grade. The teacher will usually send us with one or two students each to the English room where we work with them in their workbooks, review for tests, create exercises focusing on the alphabet, grammar or vocabulary depending on the student's personal needs. Their abilities range tremendously even within a single class, with the teacher sending us one student who can read and write with few mistakes and in the same period a student that still doesn't know all the letters in the alphabet.
Despite the difficulties with the language barrier and the range in student's needs, I love working at this school. It is a great environment to work in, with the teachers being very welcoming, the students enthusiastic and loud, the building wonderfully decorated by student artwork and bulletin boards, and the English room itself being well stocked with teaching resources (and an air conditioner). I also love that the students are teaching me Hebrew just as much as I'm teaching them English. I'm convinced that I've learned more from them than from all my Ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes) combined.
Despite the difficulties with the language barrier and the range in student's needs, I love working at this school. It is a great environment to work in, with the teachers being very welcoming, the students enthusiastic and loud, the building wonderfully decorated by student artwork and bulletin boards, and the English room itself being well stocked with teaching resources (and an air conditioner). I also love that the students are teaching me Hebrew just as much as I'm teaching them English. I'm convinced that I've learned more from them than from all my Ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes) combined.
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