רק בישראל

This is the speech titled "Only in Israel" that I will be giving at the sikkum tomorrow:

For as long as I can remember I have been told this year is like nothing I have ever experienced nor ever will again. They were right. But not for the reasons I would have expected. When looking back on my time here it is the seemingly insignificant, relatively minor or everyday encounters that stand out in my mind helping to shape and define my year. The following is my “Top 10 Only in Israel Moments” list:

10. It is a universal truth that when two Jews meet the first thing they do is play Jewish geography. There’s no such thing as six degrees of separation in Israel (it’s never more than three) and we seem to take great pleasure in trying to see just how few degrees we need to find a connection. My encounter on the flight to Israel was no different. No sooner did I mention that I was participating in a Young Judaea program that we discovered a mutual acquaintance. For him, a close family friend, for me, a former co-counselor from YJ conventions. By the time we had landed I had already been invited over to join his family for a Shabbat.

9. One day at volunteering in Bat Yam our students were performing skits, the task being to illustrate a conflict between two groups. One skit I particularly remember was by a group of boys (who I could immediately tell were the classes’ trouble makers) who chose a conflict that was actually taking place in Israeli news. They acted out Arabs planting trees and then religious Jews coming in the middle of the night to chop them down. The "Arab" boys called some form of law enforcement and had the "Jewish" boys apprehended. I was seriously impressed not only by the fact that this was a subject matter being dealt with by 12 year olds but also that they did not take sides while presenting the conflict. The children showed an understanding of a world that is much larger than the sheltered bubble that so many kids their age in America grow up in.

8. Israel excels in the department of bureaucratic shenanigans, a skill perfected most spectacularly by the Misrad Hapanim, Department of Interior. It took me a total of one taxi, two separate offices, three buses and over four hours of waiting to get my visa renewed, a process that only took five minutes and would have been even shorter if the woman would have stopped discussing with her coworkers what they were bringing to a birthday party. Congratulations Israel, you have beaten the New York DMV for the title of most ludicrously inefficient bureaucracy.

7. 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 a station a whole crowd of chayalim boarded the train. Excited, the little boy began speaking to his mom about how one day he was going to be a soldier like those men. It is unbelievable that this boy didn’t even know how to read or write and yet he was bouncing up and down in his eagerness to be a chayal.

But even more mind-blowing is the reality that the protection of the State of Israel rests on the shoulders of a bunch of 18 year olds. And as fantastically insane as this concept is, it has become an intrinsic part of Israeli society. I no longer thought twice when my bus to Beer Sheva was made up entirely of young men and women in uniform or when a boy my age had a gun slung over his shoulder at a wedding. Unlike in America, where the army is something that most of us only know of through the news, this culture of required military service plays a powerful role in defining Israel's identity.

6. All over Israel on any surface that can be written on can be found two phrases: "Am Yisrael Chai" with a Jewish star underneath, and the second, 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?

5. They don’t have mops in this country. Once we grasped this reality we followed what every Israeli seems to do, be it in the restaurant, school or house: dump a bucket of soapy water everywhere and squeegee it down a hole in the floor. Ingenious.

4. Every Monday in Arad without fail I would go to the olive guy at the shuk. By the fourth week I walked up to the olive stand and the man just pointed to the bin of olives we bought from and went “Usual?” He even knew that we always got ten shekels worth. Our short conversations with his broken English and my similarly choppy Hebrew always made the long shlepp back home weighed down with packs full of produce worth it. I’m always saying “I miss the olive guy”, but it’s more than that. It was interactions like this that made life in Arad so unique.

My time in Arad was also unforgettable in large part due to my participation in Garin Tzedek. Our work with the Sudanese community in Arad was substantial and exceptional and for that we should all be proud. Garin Tzedek gave our time this year, and in Arad specifically, purpose beyond the program’s structure. Here were a group of recent high school grads starting up English classes, renovating ganim and impacting a community in a very real way. The best part of my day in Arad was always when I would pass a group of Sudanese children on the street and they stopped to say hello or ask when the next English class would be or the next sports night or just give me a high five or a hug.

3. Two universal facts about hospitals: that the patients are obviously ill, disabled, elderly or some combination thereof and the second, that hospital food is absolutely disgusting. However, the Israeli love of fresh produce combined with a lack of patience equals a breakfast consisting of a whole apple, a whole tomato or cucumber, and a hard boiled egg- breakfast items that are difficult to cut, peel, chew and swallow. Where’s my Israeli chopped salad when I need it?

2. In Israel, Chol Hamoed Pesach means hiking and camping up North. For the entire country. Where else would there be hours long traffic delays because of the sheer volume of vehicles trying to get up to a lake so that their inhabitants can then pack onto a rocky beach and sleep in tents? Barbecuing and camping on the Kinneret: who needs matzo?

1. Israel is Bipolar: In a fashion only befitting a country as emotionally complex as Israel, the saddest day of the calendar is back-to-back with its happiest day. The celebrations of Yom Hazikaron and Yom Haatzmaut are a whirlwind of emotion that would make any non Israeli dizzy.

It is this resilience and determination of the people who make up this country that allows it to push forward despite all the tragedy it has faced. The sabra mentality of being able to remember the past while still being able to look towards and celebrate the future has been fundamental in shaping Israel’s unique personality.

To wrap up, whether my experiences spoke to you or not I hope you look back on your year here in Israel and not just let it be defined by categories like volunteering, classes and apartment life. I hope you remember your own “Only in Israel” moments that helped to make your time here the complete experience that it was.

מסיבה אחרונה: Forest Party

One aspect of Year Course that I have not spoken about this year is the partying/drinking scene. This is such an inescapably large element of the program that I would be remiss if I didn't address it. I've been to my fair share of clubs, parties and bars. I've done the whole hanging outside of Muza in Arad, and going to "Crack Square"* Thursday nights here in Jerusalem. And yet that's nothing in comparison to most Year Coursers.

It's been a year full of "first times" and I regret none of them. It will absolutely be strange going back to the States where I won't be able to legally drink or set foot into most of these places for another two years. It will be weird not seeing alcohol in every corner store and for it to be illegal to drink in public areas. I really liked being able to order a glass of wine with my friends at dinner or buying a beer at the store.

Thursday night was the last big party that Year Coursers were going to. Hosted by the teens from one of our Tsofe's kibbutz, it was a forest party at the top of the mountain by the kibbutz (near Beit Shemesh). There were enough of us coming from Jerusalem that we organized a tour bus to drive us there and back.

The logistics of arriving was somewhat ridiculous though. We planned to leave Jerusalem at 11pm but because we had to wait for the Bat Yam bus to leave, we were sitting on the bus for an extra 45 minutes. Once we got to the mountain we were informed that because the road up was extremely narrow only one bus could go up and back at a time. And so we waited. When it was finally our turn to make the ponderous trek up the mountain I had the misfortune of sitting near the front and being afforded a great view through the front window. (To give you an idea of how scared we were I actually think I would have preferred taking Chaim's car up that mountain.)

It was a seriously cool party though. After hiking a ways into the forest there was a huge clearing where they set up a DJ and a huge dance area (and also unlimited alcohol). There were predominantly Israelis shnat sherut aged there but Year Course still had a strong presence.

We had planned in advance to meet back up at 4 to take the bus home. So we were all milling around and we see our bus making it's way up the road. Long story short: our bus comes up to take the section 3 kids down and then was planning on dropping them off at the bottom and then going back up for us except that he didn't make it all the way down before another bus started up forcing him to go back up the mountain...backwards. And then he still had to go back down with them and come back up for us. Excellent. We got home at 6am.

*Dubbed "Crack Square" for its reputation as a place for yeshiva boys to do drugs. For Year Course it was a hang out place to drink near all the bars in the center of town.

222 days gone, 5 days left

If the school year went by as quickly as this one did then students worldwide would be decidedly happier.

I so clearly remember arriving at Ben Gurion and being met by Tal, Melanie and Ilana it is as if it was just last week, and yet it simultaneously feels like a lifetime ago. Each section has been so distinct, living in such different environments and under such varying conditions that it's hard to believe I was on the same program then.

Today and tomorrow are blocked out in the schedule as cleaning and packing days. We've all sort of been procrastinating (partly because it's thoroughly ridiculous that they're asking us to pack 6 days before we leave).

It's a very bittersweet time for everyone. Many are looking forward to going home- they've had their year, they've had their fun, but now they're looking forward to going back to their friends and lives back in the States.

For me, it's more bitter than sweet. I can't describe how much I've fallen in love with this country. I feel more comfortable and at home here than in the country I've lived in all my life.

I think I once bought a magnet at a tourist shop years ago thinking it had a cute phrase. Now I really mean it:

I love New York but Jerusalem is my home.

Shavuot

I don't like pulling all nighters. I don't like studying Talmud. Put those together and you can understand why I approach Shavuot with some trepidation.

Erev Shavuot, Year Course was gracious enough to provide us with dinner. It consisted neither of blintzes or cheesecake: failure.

After that reassuring start to the night I decided to go off with a group of friends rather than rely on Year Course to take us around.

Our first stop: Yedidiya- a shul literally out our door and across a field. From what I understand it's similar to Shira Chadasha in that it's Orthodox with a mechitza but women have some level of involvement. The shiyur (lesson) taught in English was being held in a small room in the basement. The question being posed... Which is better: someone who follows the mitzvot because he was commanded to do so or someone who chooses to do so on his own? One would think that a person who takes on additional responsibilities and does something good on his own accord would be regarded higher, yet the speaker was quite insist on the opposite. About half way in, I gave up and started dozing on and off and came out of the shiyur with this: God/Judaism puts a higher value on obedience than self initiative....lovely.

After a break with some blessed homemade cheesecake and a fresh pot of coffee, we continued our shiyur hopping and made our way to Pardes, a yeshiva right down the street. There the English shiyur was held in the Beit Midrash, the largest room in the building and was still standing room only. The topic of this one was rather than zooming in on one פסוק (sentence) and analyzing it for hours we were going to zoom out and try and get a bird's eye view of the Tanach and what is the thread that connects it all. The format was to be that after his intro we would split into chevruta groups for around 20 minutes and then come back together and listen to him. My friend and I grabbed a Hebrew copy of the texts, went out into the hallway and began reading. After half an hour we realized that we were doing so well on our own, why ruin it with whatever the speaker would have to say. So we spent the next couple hours having the best chevruta I've ever been in.

Once we had all reconvened we started to walk over to the Old City where one of their teachers lives and was leading shiyurim all night. His shiyur was great! It was about the male-female relationship in Kabbalah but it sounded more like a Seventeen magazine article. The rabbi was engaging and funny. According to Kabbalah the male has energy potential and the female actualizes this energy. It's a symbiotic relationship with neither side more powerful than the other. Furthermore, the יצר הרע (evil side) of the male is his fear of being boxed in and the female's is her fear of being left alone. It was all quite fascinating. around 4:30 we made our way down to the Kotel, being gently pushed by the wave of people all heading to this holy site.

I have never seen the Kotel this crowded before. They extended the mechitza into the plaza and even that area was packed. I found a spot in the lower women's area and davened shacharit next to my friends. By the time I had finished the sun had risen.

Standing at the Kotel is always a special moment but this time was even more significant because it was on Shavuot. There is that undeniable parallel between the pilgrimage made during the Temple period on the שלוש רגלים and the crowds that flocked to the Kotel that day. Two thousand years later and we still got it!

Malchat Hamidbar: Part 2

Several months ago I spent a day doing a joint program between Malchat Hamidbar and MASA. Thursday was part 2 of this program. On the schedule for the day: jeep riding in the Negev.

Bus picked us up from Beit Ar-El at 7am. Drove to Ashkelon to pick up the Australian girls who were also participating. When we arrived at the meeting spot we were greeted by a row of SUVs. This came as a surprise for two reasons:

1- I was expecting old school open topped jeeps.

2- These all belonged to different Malchot (members of Malchat Hamidbar). SUVs and 4x4 jeeps are not all that common in Israel and here we were looking at a row of over 20 of them.

They divide us into jeep groups. I was with three malchot and two other girls from my section. The drive took us down along the border with Gaza, past Keren Hashalom (the checkpoint base where Shalit was taken from), next to the Egyptian border and finally into the riverbed of Nahal Lavan.

Before heading into the riverbed, the destination for the jeep ride, we stopped at a small oasis for lunch. Stepping out of the car we saw that tables were already set up and laden down with food. Last time, one of the highlights of the day was the most successful potluck I had ever seen with dozens and dozens of homemade dishes. This time was no different. Amazing food!

The jeep ride through the riverbed was insane. All I kept saying was how it looked like one of those car commercials and felt like an old wooden roller coaster.

After a few hours bumping along, we made our way to a cliff and they surprised us with these kite making kits that we decorated and then got to fly. That was the first time I ever remember successfully flying a kite. I couldn't stop grinning.

Dinner was down below the cliff in the park where we got to relax and enjoy the sunset. We even got a journal, bumper stickers and key chain as a goody bag.

Every time we made a stop the women would turn up the volume in one of the cars and start dancing. They have so much energy and such big hearts, it was just infectious. I know I say this a lot, but these were some of the nicest people I've ever met.

It was a long and fun day.

A Day in the Golan

Two weeks ago (May 9th), Uncle Chaim rented a car and took my friends and I on a day around the Golan. We visited a Golani base, went to Har Bental and had a fabulous barbecue at the Kinneret. And of course we can't forget the raucous sing-a-long on the car ride home.

This is a very nice email Chaim wrote about our day:

I took the day off yesterday and went north with Laura and three friends. The objective was to visit Avi and give out water bags but because of a large military exercise that he was involved in we were not able to visit him. But we made the best of the situation, Leon made contact with the base of Golani 13, a place that Yashar gives generously and they welcomed us onto the base and gave the girls a tour of the new personnel carriers that this unit in particular has. The girls sat in the carriers and were explained how things work. The sergeant made sure that the girls got cold drinks.

A chayal boded (a lone soldier) actually from russia met with us and explained his part in the operation of the personnel carrier. The girls asked many questions. Laura has developed a good grasp of Hebrew, she understands alot and can get her point across. She really picks up fast.

After the army base we made our way to Har Ben Tal, a look out with a commanding view of the Golan Heights. Here the Syrian border is only a few miles away. On Ben Tal there is a bunker where the girls wandered about. We preceded south west toward the Kinneret where we set up a campsite for a BarBa Q on the the waterfront. The girls helped me put together a festive dinner. It was a lovely evening to be there. Laura had a great time and so did her friends. They all enjoyed the VIP treament, Leon's efforts to make sure the girls got an inside look at the Golani base helped make it a successful day.

Thanks Chaim for a really memorable day!

Jerusalem vs. Tel Aviv: the ultimate showdown

I went into Tel Aviv today for a few hours to go to the artist's market one more time. Strolling along Allenby in the center of the city I realized how much more I liked Jerusalem.

I knew that cities have different personalities but never was it more obvious than today. Tel Aviv is very much the Israeli version of New York:

1- It's crowded

2- It's dirty

3- Public buses congest the streets and strongly discourage use of private cars (similar to taxis in NYC)

4- Everyone walks quickly and with a purpose

5- Stores line every street for kilometers on end

6- Save for a few small neighborhoods and specific buildings, Tel Aviv is fairly ugly.

Save for a few small neighborhoods, Jerusalem is gorgeous. Even the less afluent neighborhoods are prettier. The municipality has really made an effort to beautify the city with trees and flowers lining the streets, lots of grassy parks and sculptures. The commercial center is much, much smaller. When someone says "I'm going into town" they mean very specifically the Ben Yehudah/King George/Yaffo area where there is really the only real concentration of shops, restaurants and bars. But I think this just helps lend to Jerusalem's personality. The uniqueness of the city as an ancient and holy place is not overwhelmed by modern consumerism. Similarly, Jerusalem has managed (for the most part) to resist the pressures of modern architecture and has maintained that special atmosphere by continuing to build with Jerusalem stone and in the style prevalent to this city.

Once again, I couldn't be happier that I am ending my year in Jerusalem.

Making the Connections

Thursday was a day filled with Jewish geography, reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.

Much to our delight, another intern at JCPA and I discovered we had both attended Solomon Schechter School of Queeens (or as we say: SSSQ). Over lunch we delighted in reminiscing over all the hilarious personalities of the teachers we both had. He's 7 years older than me and yet many of the teachers were the same.

Later that afternoon I get a call from my advisor from my time on National Mazkirut and we have a great conversation about past Young Judaea and the implications for the future, a future that I hope to play a role in.

While at the supermarket with Ilana we get an excited call from Tal telling us to get home and guess who's in our apartment. I got to see possibly my two favorite counselors of all time: Tishel, who was the counselor of our chug's boy bunk back in Hadracha and Amit, my counselor from Machon. Not only are they both doing the summer program (granted with FZY), but they're also best friends! Very exciting to see them.

That night Rafi and I were planning on going to dinner. He calls me saying he's bringing a friend and that I should bring mine. We go to a meat place (obviously) on Emek Refaim. It was so much fun sitting around the table with my best friends, cousin and his friends and seeing everyone enjoying themselves and having a good time.

MASA Seminar

Tuesday was a huge all day MASA campus activism seminar at Binyanei Ha’uma. I lost count of how many times we were called “young ambassadors for Israel”. For the most part the speakers were engaging and interesting and talked about everything from branding Israel to the stereotypes about our generation. The only topic they didn’t seem to really mention was HOW we should combat anti-Israel sentiment on campus. It’s like an army general telling his troops the enemy is waiting at the other side of the mountain and that’s it. No strategy, no words of wisdom.

Anyway, the highlight of the whole day, and the reason why most Year Coursers actually stayed was the closing ceremony at which Natan Sharansky and Benjamin Netanyahu both spoke. Of course this serious assembly quickly fell apart into a teenage mob once Hadag Nachash took the stage.

MASA is a fairly young organization but has been enormously successful in helping gap year and post grad programs bring young adults to Israel.

Lag B'Omer

Lag B'Omer is my kind of holiday: bonfires and barbecues. Oh, and I got to spend it with the Baldasares. Need I say more?

This was my final Shabbat in Mitzpe Navo this year, so I couldn't have been happier to hear that everyone (except Avi, unfortunately) was going to be home. As always, a wonderful Shabbat. Shabbat at the Baldasares will definitely be one of the things I will miss most about my year here. So todah raba to all the Baldasares for making me always feel a little reluctant to leave and have to return to my program. Your family is one of a kind.

Chaim constructed an elaborate show for the Happy Minyan by having a torch arrow race down a wire via pulley into a medura that was easily the tallest I saw all night. And the icing on the cake (humor intended) was watching Karen throw her old nurse uniforms into the fire.

Everywhere you went there was a fire burning. The area around the Bnei Akiva snif was described very fittingly as looking like the aftermath of a battle. Each shevet had their own fire and barbecue and singing and games. I spent some time with Michal's group singing and cheering near their fire.

Around one in the morning, my friends and I joined Rafi and his group of friends for their medura and barbecue. I had so much fun. Even though to these kids it was nothing more than making a bonfire, cooking some steaks and sitting around talking and singing, I absolutely loved it. Nights like that make it almost painfully obvious how different it is to grow up in a tight knit community like Mitzpe Navo as opposed to the cold isolation of New York City. (Can you tell I'm just a tad jealous?)

All in all there were around 20 boys and girls, 18 or 19 years old. Some had to leave early the next morning to go back to the army or Sherut Leumi while others had the next day off from Yeshiva because it was Lag B'Omer. As it got later and later the group started to dwindle down and the last of us were finally pushed inside once it started to rain. I went to sleep around 5:30, slightly damp and strongly smelling of smoke and fire but very happy.

Two final tidbits to mention:

(a) I cooked all the steaks. I knew I had done good when Rafi complimented them.

(b) Even though most of his friends knew English, I spoke almost entirely in Hebrew. It's been confirmed: I can speak the language.

Garin Tzedek Video

This is a video compilation of clips I took during our volunteering with the Sudanese in Arad.

This is a photo montage of Garin Tzedek Section 2 volunteering in Bat Yam and Arad.

Enjoy!

Anything can happen in Tsfat

I went to Tsfat in 8th grade. I remember nothing from that trip other than the mantra our guide constantly repeated during our tour: "Anything can happen in Tsfat."

And so I came into this weekend with no idea what to expect. It was nothing like I imagined, but an educational experience nonetheless. I had made reservations for us to stay at a hostel called "Ascent Safed". For a reasonable price they provided room and board, host families for Friday night meal, educational workshops and a tour of Tsfat. The only thing not advertised was that it is run by Chabad Lubovitch. Soon after our arrival I realized I'd have to change my mindset from a young Jew looking for a spiritual Shabbat to a curious student interested in learning about, and immersing myself in, a different culture for the weekend.

Friday night we attended our first workshop run by the director/rabbi of Ascent. There were seven students in total: me, my three friends and three Australian girls also in a gap year program who it turns out live a 10 minute walk up the street from us. By the end of the weekend we had all exchanged numbers and promised to meet up again soon.

Our Friday night meal turned out to be at the director's house. When we first walked in and I saw a long table that easily sat 25 people I wondered if they always had this many guests. I soon found out that it was just family. With five married daughters, husbands, children, and spouses' siblings... I was surprised there weren't more people. It was a real special Shabbat experience watching this family interact. It felt like: "Special Edition: Behind the Black Hat". I loved that I got to talk to and learn about this group of Jews that had before now merely been an unapproachable and mysterious group in my mind. When it comes down to it there are many similarities, first and foremost being the strong emphasis placed on family and children. Watching them talking about their week, laughing over some family joke or telling the kids to eat their vegetables, melted away that intimidating image I have always held of religious Jews.

Every week my grandfather asks my mom what our rabbi's sermon was about that Shabbat. If my mom doesn't go "I'm not really sure" then it was considered a good sermon. Unfortunately, if you had asked me, even right after the Tsfat workshops, what they were about, I couldn't tell you. I'm sure what they all had to say was interesting, but there were too many tangents, non sequitur and quickly mumbled Hebrew phrases in such thick Ashkenazi accents thst it made it almost impossible to follow their line of thought (if there really was any to begin with). After two lessons (one Friday night and one Saturday morning), half a dozen dvar torahs during the Friday night meal, and a lesson with our madricha I gleaned the following:

(Disclaimer: although the following facts are true they are interspersed with my own commentaries and opinions and should be treated as such)

(a) Lubovitch Jews have an almost unhealthy reverence for Rabbi Schneerson and view a trip to Crown Heights as equivalent to a sacred pilgrimage.

(b) Chabad Jews in general have an unshakable faith in God which I am simultaneously impressed by and spiteful of. They live their lives with the sole purpose of getting closer to God. Everything they study and every action is done to increase and improve this connection. I used to find this admirable until I realized it was just closed-mindedness.

(d) They are elitist. Whether stated outright or not, these religious Jews consider themselves to be holier and thus better than "goyim". Also not flat out said, but I suspect their definition of "Goy" includes many who consider themselves Jewish (perhaps myself included).

(e) They are some of the nicest, kindest and warm-hearted people I've ever met.

It wasn't the spiritual Kabbalah experience you may expect from Tsfat, but it was a fascinating experience nonetheless.

Israel is Bipolar

In a fashion only befitting a country as emotionally complex as Israel, the saddest day of the calendar is back-to-back with its happiest day. The celebrations of Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, and Yom Haatzmaut, Independence Day, are a whirlwind of emotion that would make any non Israeli dizzy. The intensity with which Israelis dive into these two extremes is overwhelming. This past Monday (Yom Hazikaron and erev Yom Ha'atzmaut) was one of the most bizarre days of my life.

Sunday night, erev Yom Hazikaron, my Year Course section attended a MASA organized Yom Hazikaron tekkes on גבעת התחמושת (Ammunition Hill). It was a nice ceremony. I say "nice" only because it was nothing more nor nothing less than that. It was very professionally done with the stage and big screen and lights and fancy presentation and even a smoke machine. As someone described it later, the ceremony was "cookie cutter". Despite the sad music, and personal stories, it lacked the emotional depth I was expecting.

Monday was a whole different ball game. I am pleased to say Year Course did something right. They took us to Har Herzl, the national military cemetery. The entire nation descends upon (or should I say ascends) Har Herzl the morning of Yom Hazikaron to pay their respects to the grandfathers, fathers, sons, brothers, cousins and friends who have died in battle.

Side note: I frequently complain about Israeli bureaucracy that has been the bane of my existence these last months. Despite this serious flaw, when it comes to major events such as Har Herzl on Yom Hazikaron Israel is remarkable. Because of the sheer mass of people, the nearby streets are shut down and access to the cemetery is only possible via Egged buses being used as free shuttles. At the entrance, the State has provided flowers and memorial candles for mourners to pick up before visiting the graves.

The government also provides water. Here's where we come in. Besides for the opportunity to experience Har Herzl on this day, our job was to give out water bottles to mourners. The rationale behind this, and why I get to once again say "Only in Israel", is to provide people with this necessity on a day when their minds and hearts are elsewhere and perhaps too distracted to think about their own basic needs. Whether or not this is true, it is a fact that people were very appreciative and many went out of their way to thank us.

It's hard to describe the scene at Har Herzl. As it got closer and closer to 11am, the time the siren would go off and the official tekkes would begin, the number of people surging through the gates grew exponentially. Family and friends of all ages and backgrounds were there to pay their respects. Soldiers given the day off came with flowers in hand to visit their friends' graves.

At eleven the siren went off, and like on Yom Hashoa the country came to a halt. Everyone who had been rushing along the road stopped, everyone sitting stood up and the entire mountain went still. It was a powerful moment.

And I'm going to stop here. I am finding it absolutely impossible to put into words what this was like. Yes, it was emotional and yes it was heart wrenching but no matter what I took from this, it was nothing compared to the Yom Hazikaron experienced by the Israelis standing beside me. The day before we had a peulah with our madrich where he asked us to write down our expectations for this day and I wrote: "I hope to not just observe but also experience Yom Hazikaron." But when I was actually there on Har Herzl watching parents coming to visit their son's grave or soldiers coming to visit a friend from their unit I realized there's no way for me to connect. This day honors the lives lost in battle or by terror attacks, a burden carried by Israelis to ensure the continued existence of the Jewish nation. I kept thinking how unfair it seems that they are risking their lives and dying to protect a land that belongs to all of us. Shouldn't it be the duty of all Jews to help defend this land we call our own? Why must they alone shoulder this responsibility?

That evening my friends and I attended a יום השואה/יום העצמאות טקס (ceremony bridging the two holidays) at Shira Chadasha. It was a beautiful tekkes with many songs (that I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I knew) as well as members telling personal stories and several prayers. The most touching moment was a prayer reminiscent of מי שברך לחולים (prayer for the sick) except when people stood up they gave the name of a family member or close friend who died and under what circumstances. It was very telling just how many people stood up to give the name of a loved one who died, especially considering that this congregation is composed principally of Americans who are relatively recent Olim.

The tekkes was followed by a special Maariv with tunes that gave the first hint that we were entering into יום העצמאות. After a brief stop for nourishment at a local cafe we headed into town where the festivities were already very much underway. For a second time that day it felt like the entire country had converged on the same spot. The Ben Yehudah area felt like what I imagine Time Square to be like on New Years. There were a couple stages set up with live performances and DJs, street performers, food stalls and people selling glow up light thingies and other stupid stuff. Little kids and teens were taking part in massive silly string and shaving cream (which they refer to as שלג or snow) fights that would very often literally spill onto innocent passerbys. Groups of yeshiva boys would randomly burst into song, jumping up and down as if their lives depended on it. Oh, and there were two rounds of fireworks.

At some point we made our way over to Kikar Safra, by the municipality, where they were having Rikud Ha'am. They played dozens of songs and I didn't know a single one of them. I never knew there were so many circle dances. Though the dances were far too confusing for someone as uncoordinated as me it was still incredibly fun to try and hop and spin along with the others. At one point my friends and I made our own circle and did our own thing. We were joined by a few Israelis our age and we continued to bounce and twirl together for several songs. What struck me about this whole event was how many young people there were. People I would expect to see at a club were dancing along to all these songs. For lack of a better word, it was extremely "cool" to see Israelis my age participating in Rikud Ha'am, something which at least in my eyes has the unfortunate connotation of being antiquated and "uncool".

The next morning my friends and I woke up very late, right in time for barbecue for breakfast. Wanting to provide us with the authentic Israeli experience, Year Course planned a barbecue on campus. Unfortunately, they did not plan for most of Section 1 being present as well, buying the wrong coals which forced them to light the fire using twigs, and half the meat having ants in it. I've had better barbecues.

That afternoon we went to Mamila mall where there was a "Living Museum". Essentially it was people dressed in period costumes (Palestine early 20th century) performing various skits with interludes of musical performances. Even though it was hugely crowded and the skits were in Hebrew it was still interesting to watch and explore.

For dinner we went out to what is becoming one of my favorite places to eat in Jerusalem. (Here's where I start to sound like a guide book). Right off of Yafo, near Ben Yehuda, the place is called Grill Bar. For nine shekels you get a selection of over a dozen salads, handmade pita and infinite refills. I would then suggest, depending on how hungry you are, getting either one or two skewers of pargiyot. It's just one of those meals you can't seem to find back at home.

There you have it. My יום הזיכרון ויום העצמאות on Year Course.

Yom Hashoa: A reflection on the status of the Jewish people

The United States has a long and proud history and yet it is engrained in American culture to go shopping on Memorial Day and have family barbecues on Labor Day. It's embarrassing how little thought we give to the sacrifices and hardships of the generations before us and even more significantly how emotionally removed we are from the wars our country is currently fighting.

This past Monday was Yom Hashoa. Back at home this day is commemorated by a memorial service at my shul that I have only accompanied my parents to once or twice. Here in Israel it's a national holiday and is treated as such.

There really is a somber atmosphere that descends upon the country. Radio channels are playing slow, melancholy songs and the TV is overloaded with news coverage of memorial services, interviews with Holocaust survivors and Holocaust movies.

However what really makes Israel stand out and what made me randomly exclaim throughout the day "Only in Israel" as I shook my head in wonderment is the siren that brings an entire country to a halt. At exactly 10am on the morning of Yom Hashoa a siren is blast throughout the country, commencing a moment of silence. No matter what you are doing, everyone stops. I was standing on a relatively quiet street. When the siren went off, the bus that had been pulling away from a station came to a stop, a car pulled up near me and the two women stepped out, a man crossing the street just stopped in the middle of the road. It's staggering to wrap your mind around: an entire country freezes in their daily life to remember a tragedy that took place 70 years ago and though it may not have effected them personally, as a nation it has hurt us all. It is a moment and a day of extreme pain and loss but also one of great national unity.

The day before, the Year Course staff had planned a few sadnaot (discussion/activities) for us. I chose to attend "Where was God in the Holocaust?" Though this is an issue I have tackled on numerous occasions in groups and personally, I hoped that perhaps this setting of being in Israel with a group of other Zionist teenagers would make the conversation different than those I've had in the past. Here are some of the more thought provoking issues brought to light during our discussion:
(a) Most obviously and fundamentally is whether or not we believe in God. More significantly though was how many different types of "believing in God" there was in the circle. It seemed that everyone had their own image of God and his influence in our world. We then took it a step farther and began (gently and politely of course) pointing out the hypocrises in each others theories adding to an already impossible issue another layer of complexity.
(b) An enduring question that continued to come up throughout the stages of discussion was the mystery of how those who experienced the Holocaust still maintained their faith? If someone who went through all that he did and still believes in God then surely I, who has had a most fortunate life, should be able to take that leap of faith as well. Do I have to survive something as terrible as the Holocaust before I can believe in a divine ruler?
(c) Then of course there was the ever popular question: How can God let this happen? I know I share the opinion of many others when I say that I don't know how I can believe in God when he can let something like the Holocaust happen to a nation that has been called the "Chosen People". And for me , it's not just the Holocaust. It's 2000 years of exile, inquisitions, pogroms and massacres. And now that we finally have the State of Israel, a Jewish state, we have been fighting continuously for its existence since the moment it was established.

In Ulpan the next day our class also had a discussion (of course in Hebrew) about the Holocaust and Israel.
(a) Would Israel exist without the Holocaust? Though most in my class disagreed I was adamant in my belief that YES there would be a State of Israel. I sincerely doubt it would have been established in 1948 but the waves of Aliyah and the Zionist movement were already underway long before the Holocaust and WWII began. I agree when my classmates said that the Holocaust was unfortunately that necessary catalyst that sped up the process. But even without the Holocaust I am confident that Israel would exist today in 2010.
(b) Can another Holocaust happen today? Can we prevent it? As I tried to explain to my teacher (though not nearly as eloquently), the Jewish nation is facing a new type of holocaust. Now that there is a State of Israel and also because of the ghosts of the past we are not threatened by a genocide perpetrated by an entire continent. Instead, we are facing a Holocaust that can be accomplished by a single man. A crazy dictator with enough hatred to be willing to launch a nuclear bomb at Israel. The threat of nuclear Iran is immensely serious and one that is frustratingly outside of our control. It is a danger that can only be eliminated by governments and militaries.
(c) Is the Jewish nation living or merely surviving? This question connects back to my issue of the "Chosen People" that was brought up the previous day in the sadna. Are we the "Chosen People" because we have managed to survive all these years while other nations have become extinct? "Managing to survive"- is that enough? Can we hope for more? I think that with the State of Israel came a growth and a "living" of the Jewish nation that has not been seen in centuries. There is a vibrant new Jewish culture created here in Israel that is a melting pot of Jewish traditions from around the world, brought over with each new wave of Olim. Unfortunately, while Judaism is very much alive here, I look back to my Jewish community at home and can't help but despair. I grew up hearing Rabbi's sermons and reading the Jewish newspaper articles lamenting the decline in American Jewry and the failing of the Conservative movement. I watched as my shul merged with two other synagogues in the area and as all the children and families started to leave so that it got to the point that many Saturdays my mom was the 4th youngest person in shul (right after me and my sisters). Synagogues used to be a place for community. When I couldn't really find that at my shul (our USY chapter just didn't cut it), I turned towards Young Judaea. YJ, which was the largest and oldest Zionist youth movement, I soon discovered was failing just as much if not more than the Conservative synagogues of Queens, New York. A movement that had tens of thousands of members and hundreds of clubs throughout the country where members would get together to discuss and learn about Israel had been reduced to an organization that ran very successful (and incredible)summer camps and Israel programs. As terrible as it is, as a Jew from New York, I would have to say that YES, the Jewish nation in the Diaspora is merely surviving.

In my most recent Ulpan class our lesson was about Gilad Shalit, the IDF soldier kidnapped during the summer of 2006. After this discussion, I felt that Shalit epitomizes what I have come to call the "Israeli Paradox". Partly due to the size of the country, partly because everyone has been in the IDF/is a parent of someone who has been a soldier and partly because every decision the government or IDF makes is one that effects people personally, there is a deep sense of national loss and grief concerning the kidnapping of Shalit. You could just see it in the way my Ulpan teacher (who always tries to keep her beliefs or feelings out of a lesson) discussed it, that the kidnapping of Gilad Shalit, Eldad Regev and Ehud Goldwasser was felt very personally by the entire country. Acting on these feelings, it is only natural that Israelis are demanding the return of Shalit at any price. Even if that means releasing hundreds of terrorists and prisoners it is worth it to get back this one soldier. But then the other half of the Israeli mind has to think about national security and what would be the repurcussions of setting free all these people capable of hurting and killing even more Israelis. The safety of the nation must out weigh the life of one soldier...doesn't it? And so we are left with the "Israeli Paradox". Which is more important for this family: stopping at nothing to bring back one of its sons or the family's survival as a whole?

Adventures in the Israeli Health Care System

Saturday night (Motzei Shabbat Chol Hamoed Pesach): Just got back from bowling (finally managed to reach my goal of getting over a 40 in the 2nd game). My throat was starting to hurt. Casually turned to my cousin and said: "Probably won't be able to talk tomorrow."

Sunday morning: Wake up without much of a voice and my throat really hurts. Left gland was swollen. No fever. Not too worried.

Sunday evening: Hurts to swallow. Pushed down a few spoonfuls of chicken soup. Quickly gave up. Go to bed without a voice.

Sunday night: Waking up at night throwing up phlegm and saliva simply because I couldn't swallow it.

Monday morning (Yom Tov): Karen asks their doctor neighbor to come over. Looks at my throat. Says he wants me to go to the hospital. Says he'll drive me himself. But not before he writes a doctor's note on the back of a piece of scrap paper.


Sidenote:

Israel ain't perfect and top on its list of problems is its obsession with pointless and downright idiotic bureaucracy created for the dual purpose of confusing the daylight out of the unsuspecting visitor and graciously providing premature gray hairs to the unfortunate resident.

According to Israel's incredible health care system, in order for the hospital to even consider treating me I first need a "hafnaya" or a referral from my family doctor. That's so I can be treated. Now of course this care costs money. Here's where you would expect to start seeing the benefits of national health care. But why take the fun out of it and make it easy. The hospital needs a "hitchayvut" or promise of payment from the insurance company otherwise they'll be billing you.

These technicalities are made all the more stressingly complicated when you're not a citizen and thus do not have a family doctor, teudat zehut (Israeli ID number) or a standard health insurance plan and the hospital staff doesn't seem to understand that.

With all this said, I have to thank my aunt Karen and Cami, the wonderful YC staff member, who had the patience to wade through the muck that is Israeli bureaucracy.


And so the doctor drives me and Chaim to Shaare Tzedek. Fortunately, the emergency room was not crowded and I was taken quickly, and then immediately sent upstairs to the ENT department. There, once again, our luck held and I was seen promptly by a doctor. From there it sort of went downhill. Somehow I was under the delusion that the doctor would look at me, prescribe some foul tasting liquid medicine and send me on my way. But when he failed to remove anything from the absyss in my throat due to the excessive swelling of my gland and I continued to vomit up phlegym (this time accompanied by blood) I realized I was in for the duration.

They showed me to a bed, hooked me up to an IV that was constantly dripping either steroids, antibiotics or saline and then left me to wait. And wait. And wait.

Time becomes a weird thing when you're in the hospital. It is both your best friend and worst enemy. It quickly morphs into a haze that you at first resist by constantly repeating in your mind your time of arrival, when the doctor last came, when your first dose of medicine was, etc. But you soon begin to loose your grip and the daily routines of life taking place outside your window become more and more distant and you just...float. And inevitably, time becomes measured by the loud rattling of the food trolley coming down the hall signaling the imminent arrival of yet another hospital meal. You feel a moment of assurance by the appearance of this time marker shining a light through the fog of the day. Of course your excitement disappears once you see what's on your tray.

Hospital food is notorious for being bad. Their meals for those of us who can't swallow is even worse. True, some of it isn't bad. I got applesauce a couple times and I even got a pudding once. But most of the time it's unidentifiable slush in a bowl. For breakfast, the mush is white. For lunch, the mush is green. Dinner at least was edible- some sort of soup though I quickly gave up trying to identify it. Hospitals generally consist of elderly patients, patients with disabilities, patients weak from illness and some combination thereof. Which is why it's particularly amusing here in Israel, where breakfast consists of a whole apple, a whole tomato or cucumber, and a hard boiled egg- breakfast items that are difficult to cut, swallow and peel. Fortunately, I had Uncle Chaim who was always willing to eat everything I didn't want.

(Unfortunately my brief stay at the hospital was at the same time as Bubbie's much longer stay in a hospital back in the States. This did however provide us with many jokes about Zayde's unfathomable enjoyment of hospital food and the constant remark that instead of me and Bubbie comparing hospital meals it should really be the two Chaims.)

So I've covered the food. The second most important thing during my stay: the television. For a mere 35 shekels a day I had at my disposal a wide diverse array of TV channels. Of the 32 channels the guy claimed I had, 3 of them didn't work, 4 of them were in Russian, 2 were in Spanish, 2 were in French, 6 were Hebrew and 4 were sports. That left me around 10 channels, some of which only worked certain times during the day, others only had English program during certain hours and only one was an American news channel. FOX news: the one and only. I had the good fortune of being greeted every morning by the dulcet tones of Glenn Beck. During the remainder of the day I had the opportunity to watch conservative propaganda at its finest as they cycled through Sean Hannity, Bill O'Reilly and the other great pundits of our day until returning yet again to Beck in case I didn't get enough Communist Obama bashing the first time around. I found myself muttering expletives at the TV, unless it was too early in the morning in which case I just made funny faces at it. I am proud to say I take after my Zayde in this regard. He also likes talking to the TV. It always made me smile everytime I thought about what his reaction would be watching these programs. I couldn't decide whether he would be yelling or just chucking something at the TV set.

I was kept at Shaare Tzedek until Thursday morning (I would have been detained longer but I was rather insistent/desperate when the doctors did their daily rounds). I was in relatively great spirits when I finally left the hospital with Karen. By the time we got back to Mitzpe Navo I had enough energy to drag myself up the stairs and collapse into bed. Several hours of deep sleep later, Karen wakes me up and all but orders me to start drinking the chicken soup she just finished making.

Over the course of the rest of the evening I consumed somewhere between 4 and 5 bowls of soup. But I was still feeling utterly weak and lethargic and my sore throat was getting worse as the day progressed. I went to bed seriously worried that I was relapsing.

I woke up Friday morning and I immediately knew something was different. It must have been all that chicken soup because that morning I was 100% completely better.

When you're sick all you want to do is curl up in your own bed and have mommy bring you chicken soup. It sucks to be in the hospital. And it really sucks to be in a hospital in a foreign country thousands of miles away from your parents. That said, I couldn't have asked for a better group of people looking after me. Karen and Chaim treated me as one of their own and Tal, Melanie and Ilana went out of their way to come visit me every day. Todah Raba.

A Baldasare Pesach: Part 2

First day of Chol Hamoed Rina, Rafi, Yona and I woke up bright and early (before dawn to be exact) and headed over to the central bus station in Jerusalem to try and beat the crowds going up north. Turned out everyone was trying to beat the crowds. Once we realized the entire country was trying to take a bus to Tiberias we switched tactics and got on a bus to Beit Shean, approximately 40 kilometers south of the Kinneret. Eventually got up to Yehudiah where we were hiking. We were going to get wet so anything we didn't want soaked had to be put in a locker at the start of the hike. After a lot of packing and repacking of the bags we managed to fit two backpacks in a space that really should have only held one. It was right around this time that I realized that I had brought two left shoes of two different sizes, neither of which were mine. Despite this, it was a beautiful hike through a river in a valley.

Usually I'm sure it would have been really fun to walk through the water except that at this time of year it was absolutely frigid. I don't think I've ever been in water that cold. Luckily you can avoid the water by rock jumping the entire way except for one part where you have no choice but to climb down a 9 meter ladder and swim across without any place to stop for about 15-20 meters. Between my incredible swimming skills and my fear of large bodies of water I was understandably terrified. Climbing down that ladder was one of those moments right out of a movie. It was like the volume had been turned way down and it was all about just climbing down every foothold one step closer to the water. When I finally jumped in I didn't think. I just swam. Extremely poorly, barely considered doggy paddle but I did it. (It should be noted here that Rafi swam back to help me towards the very end and I am extremely grateful to him for that.) Unlike everyone around me complaining about the cold it didn't bother me. Before hand I was so concerned I wouldn't be able to swim all the way across and afterwards I was just so relieved that I had that the water temperature didn't hit me until much later when I realized I was shivering. I wouldn't call this "conquering my fear" because I'm still terrified of large bodies of water and likely always will be but this proved to me that I'm strong enough to not let it paralyze me.

After hiking back up the mountain out of the valley we got to have the lunch we had bought at a makolet on the way up. I must have eaten a dozen pieces of salami wrapped around a strip of cucumber, pickle and crushed potato chips. I don't remember a meal ever being so satisfying.

Eventually we made our way back down to the Kinneret and met up with Chaim, Karen, Michal and Karen's friend Joan at the beach. Chaim had worked very hard and set up a wonderful campsite. With two tents, mats/blankets, and brand new hammock we were pretty much set. He made a great barbecue dinner with hot dogs, hamburgers, lamb chops and chicken. I don't remember the last time I'd had so much meat. It was absolutely beautiful watching the sunset and relaxing on the beach that night. We even did a campfire of sorts because Michal said she wanted one (not like you could have smores on Pesach but it was still nice).

The next day we went to Hamat Gader, a hot springs/spa resort place right along the Syrian border. I didn't have a bathing suit nor do I usually like to go into pools, even if they do smell like rotten eggs. But all the others went in and enjoyed it alot. I went to this seminar with Rafi and Chaim on Tibetan bowls. When struck, the bowls emit sound waves that help produce alpha waves in the brain which consequently should promote relaxation. The guy explaining everything was telling us about how it has healing powers and can cure anything. I wouldn't go that far but Chaim did start snoring half way through (though I don't know if that was entirely on account of the Tibetan bowls). It was interesting.

The bus ride home took about twice as long as it should have. The road up to Maale Adumim from Yericho which normally takes 15 minutes took us over an hour. Seems that everyone had decided to leave at the same time as us.

Hiking and camping up north. A pretty great way to spend your Pesach break.

A Baldasare Pesach: Part 1

Anything that involves the entire Baldasare family is an event. Pesach with them is an experience. I arrived in Maale Adumim Sunday night, 24 hours before the first (I mean) ONLY seder- too late to help with any of the major Pesach prep but just on time fork the inevitable ogranized chaos. I helped out where I could: mopping, folding laundry and odds and ends in the kitchen. Before I think any of us realized it, Yom Tov (or "Yontif") was upon us.

Got dressed and headed up to the Happy Minyan with Rina, Michal and Levia. This shul prides itself in their devotion to Shlomo Carlebach. The ruach and singing and dancing (on the men's side) is always great. Except when it's lail Seder, we're on the wrong side of 8pm, have yet to finish Hallel, still have a Seder to start that night and the men are "Ya-di-di-da-ing" with no end in sight. Gotta love 'em.

We finally settle around the Seder table. Someone comments how small it is: just family. Of course that still means we were ten people (see Bubbie, ten people- including hungry teenage boys- no big deal). No one person had the same Hagaddah but I managed to snag the one Artscroll as a matter of tradition and what we use back at home. We started out great. Got up to Magid in a timely fashion. Completely devoured the potatoes and eggs. One of the kids asked, "Why do we eat potatoes and eggs? Where does it say so?" Karen and I just replied: "Tradition."

On that note I shall digress. Studies show that the Pesach Seder is the most widely followed Jewish practice. It seems ironic. When lighting Shabbat candles or Chanukah candles seem so simple in comparison, yet there is something about the Pesach tradition that (provides the mother of the household with an annual panic attack and) allows it to live on so strongly. This year more than ever I was able to witness how much of this holiday is rooted in tradition, a notion seen most clearly in the issue of "Kitniyot". I still don't know exactly how or when it transpired except for that one week a year I wish my family had been Sephardic. I used to think Kitniyot just meant rice and legumes. And anywhere else in the world that would probably be the case. Here in Israel, being able to eat Kitniyot means a world of difference. There is absolutely no halachic anything stopping us from eating the ice cream bar and yet it says "לאכלי קיטניות בלבד" and so we buy the other brand.

Tradition is also a huge part of the Pesach seder itself. Just like Shabbat or any other holiday, every family has their own habits and ways of doing things. During the Seder I couldn't help but think about all the little things that happens at our Seder every year: someone calling "Susan, 2nd cup"- though that hopefully was not the case this year, Zayde using the same tune every year to chant through the few paragraphs Rachel, Julie and I didn't already claim, the "Pesach, Matza and Maror" paragraphs that the three of us always do, the songs from the other booklet mommy always insists on singing, the orange on the seder plate story that mommy tells, the competition to see how fast I can sing "echad mi yodea" before mommy gives me the look, always (without fail) stealing the afikomen when Zayde goes to the bathroom and always (without fail) hiding it in the same place, gefilte fish, chopped liver (not that I ever touched the stuff), Papa's vegetarian liver (that he insists is appetizing), Bubbie's pot roast and of course Mommy's desserts (the one time of year she actually bakes).

Turning back to this year's Seder. Magid. It is a mitzvah to tell the story of יציאת מצרים and at this Seder table that meant asking questions. Lots and lots of questions. If we were lucky we would get through a paragraph before someone would go: I have a question! The ensuing discussion/debate/screaming match would last anywhere between 5 and 20 minutes. Don't get me wrong, they were great discussions. Most were very insightful and touched on many different aspects of the Seder, the story and the Pesach holiday. Of course I thought my one contribution was the best. Unlike the other questions which were being taken from Midrashim in the various Hagaddahs and had the rabbi answers written beneath, mine was a genuine question for which I have never received a truly satisfying answer: Why is it that the Seder is supposed to be the telling of the Exodus from Egypt and yet very little of Magid actually speaks to the story we read in the book of Exodus? At first there was the expected uproar with answers involving the words "Rabbis" and "Midrash". I shot those down searching for more. Unsurprisingly, it was Karen and Levia who gave me the best response. In short, יציאת מצרים is less about the details of Moses floating down the Nile or the burning bush but rather its implications as a turning point in the history of the Jewish nation. This is also why the Hagaddah begins the story with Avraham instead of starting straight with the Exodus. It says "בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים" and one way of interpreting that is not only that we have to understand the meaning of the original Exodus but every generation since has had to discover its own version of the Exodus.

Somehow we finally managed to arrive at Shulchan Orech. And then I fell asleep.

JCPA

My volunteering placement for the final trimester is working as an intern at the Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs. It is self described as "an independent non-profit institute for policy research and education". They focus on issues of Israel's security, standing in the international community and global anti-Semitism. It is headed by Dr. Dore Gold, former Israeli ambassador to the UN and frequently brings in experts and famous speakers as part of the ICA (Institute for Contemporary Affairs) program. JCPA publishes numerous papers, reports and briefings on all things Israel ranging from the threat of nuclear Iran, to the recent Jerusalem construction issue to relations between the US and Israel. The only thing they do not address is internal Israeli politics.

My friend Tal and I were placed in the marketing department (when I say department I mean a small room with 3 permanent people and several part time interns). At first I was disappointed. Here I was with the perfect opportunity, having just been handed an internship at an institute that seems to be tailored specifically to my interests and they have me putting together mailing lists. But after several weeks I can confidently say that I love how it all ended up. First off, JCPA treats their interns extremely well. Most significantly, they give us free lunch every day. And I don't mean shitty cafeteria food. I'm talking about ordering in delivery of everything from bagels to shwarma to hamburgers. Second off, the people I work with are so nice and accomodating. Sure, part of the time we are still compiling mailing lists but the other half of our time is spent doing something much more interesting. The marketing department is charged with the task of publicizing the institute in every way possible. This includes maintaining the website, facebook page, sending out mailings and most interestingly commenting on news sites, forums and blogs with posts linking back to relevant articles on the JCPA website. The latter is what I help out with. This not only gives me an excuse to have to read the news every day but I also have to be very familiar with the articles published by JCPA. If I had been put into a different department I would have only had to read that which was relevant to their area, here I have to read everything!

Additionally, there are also lecture series and briefings that we are always invited to attend. So far I have sat in on a lecture about American Jewish journalism and another about a survey of the Jewish community of greater Philadelphia (both of which were surprisingly fascinating). However, by far the coolest thing so far took place last Thursday morning. Dore Gold, the President of JCPA, was holding a special briefing for the diplomatic corp and foreign correspondents concerning US-Israel relations in light of Netanyahu's recent visit to Washington. I don't know if it was cooler that I was helping a former ambassador to the UN or greeting representatives of the embassies of Egypt, South Africa, France and Jordan or juggling the microphone between the reporter for the LA times and the Associated Press. And then of course there was what he was actually saying in the briefing.

In the scale of pro-Israel groups, I would rate JCPA very high up there. All of its publications are written by scholars and all very well documented. It's a very busy and packed website but you can read all their published material, watch video clips of lectures and learn about JCPA at www.jcpa.org

(I guess even when I'm not at volunteering I'm still promoting the place.)

Malchat Hamidbar

Several months ago I was approached by a YC madrich and asked if I wanted to participate in a special program. The conversation at the time went something like this:
Madricha: Laura, do you want to do this?
Me: What is this?
Madricha: It’s this women’s thing. It’s supposed to be very cool.
Me: But what do they do exactly?
Madricha: I’m not sure. I think they do something in the desert.
Me: Who is it for? When is it? How much is it?
Madricha: I don’t really know.
Me: Is there anything else you can tell me about this?
Madricha: Not really, no.

Weeks passed without me hearing anything. Then comes last Thursday when I get a call from someone on the staff reminding me about this “Malchat Hamidbar” program on Friday. After everything I had gleaned about this outing you can understand why I went into it with zero expectations.

We were told a bus would be at campus at 7:20am to pick us up. The day got off on a wonderful note when my alarm didn’t work and instead I was being woken up by a friend telling me it was 7:25 and the bus was here. On the bus ride I was understandably grumpy, tired and hungry. Fortunately, this concludes the depressing part of the story.

As we enter the clearing, I immediately perk up upon recognizing where we were: the Magical Forest (a pine forest approximately half way between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem so named by YJ summer program participants for its mysterious appearance on our bus routes no matter what direction we’re coming from). We were greeted by around 50 Israeli women of all ages giving us name tags, sweatshirts/tshirts and a table filled with coffee, tea and cookies (Jewish women know how to treat you right).

They then gathered us all onto mats in a small clearing and introduced themselves and what this day was all about. Malchat Hamidbar is an organization that brings together women from all over Israel to go on a weeklong jeep ride in a different remote location of the world each year. Hundreds of women partake in this adventure and every “Malcha” I talked to that day called it a transformative experience. Essentially it’s an extreme ice breaker/bonding trip. Many of the women knew each other from their Malchat Hamidbar trip and it was fun watching them greet and treat each other like old friends. Where do we come into all this? Malchat Hamidbar decided to try a joint program with MASA (the umbrella organization that funds gap programs like Year Course). This is a two part event, with the first being last Thursday and the second being in late May. This first day was dedicated to ice breakers and getting to know each other. We were split into groups in which we spent some time just playing basic ice breaker games and team building activities. Though I have done most if not all at some point in my summer camp career, these were still lots of fun because everyone was enthusiastic to get to know each other.
(I forgot to mention that in addition to the girls from Year Course the bus stopped at the old Judaean Youth Hostel and picked up some 40 girls from Australia who were participating in IBC- Israel By Choice- year program. We were the only two MASA groups there.)

A couple hours in we broke for brunch. I was expecting juice and rolls. Instead these women pulled out all the stops with an entirely homemade pot luck brunch. There was a huge array of salads and pastas and quiches and spreads. There was even soup!

After lunch we had a drum circle lead by a woman who I am told is famous and has played with people like Bruce Springsteen. Somehow what had begun as a drum circle singing Hebrew songs morphed into a huge dance party with a combination of popular English and Hebrew songs. There was an extremely comfortable and relaxed atmosphere. Looking at it from the outside it might seem a little strange: a group of over 100 women dancing to the beat of drums in the middle of a forest but it was seriously cool. Here were people who before this morning did not know each other and by the end the girls were exchanging numbers and the women were all inviting us over for Pesach Seder or Shabbat. (We even got goody bags as we were getting back onto the bus.)

I’m so glad I had the opportunity to take part in this. Though it was only a few short hours, I had the chance to connect with women whom I otherwise would never have met and got to do so in a very unique setting.

A Yerushalayim Shabbat

This weekend I got to experience the essence of Shabbat as the "Day of Rest" in the most beautiful city in the world.

Friday I spent all day shopping and cooking for Shabbat. As sunset neared and I wasn't finished cooking nor had I showered and changed yet, I got that frantic look that I have seen every Friday afternoon in my aunt's house as Shabbat approaches and no one is ready. I loved that feeling of rushing around cooking and cleaning and showering and changing and racing with the clock to finish before Shabbat started so I could get to services in time. All the craziness made Shabbat feel even more worth it. Because the second you step into shul and Shabbat begins a sense of calm falls over you knowing you have no real obligations or work for the next 25 hours. There is something to be said for this tradition of crazy mayhem that observant Jews go through every week. Walking into Kabbalat Shabbat services, all clean and dressed up, this feeling of tranquility settles in that is made all the more sweeter by the extra work you had just put in to get ready for Shabbat.

My friends and I walked over to Shira Chadasha. I went there once for a Saturday morning service during my Schechter 8th grade Israel trip and have always said that was the best service I had ever been to. It is rare to be able to say that something is even better than I remember it, but leaving services the other night I was able to say just that. The members are of predominantly Anglo descent (that is to say that everyone around me spoke English), and there was equal representation of all ages from babies all the way to their grandmothers. There was a fairly even mix of women with covered heads and not. The gauzy, semi see through mechitzah split the room evenly down the middle (usually in these cases the men's section is significantly larger than the female's). We arrived 5 minutes into Kabbalat Shabbat and already the room was so full we weren't able to find seats together. But the uniqueness of this congregation goes beyond merely the make up of the room. I have never before participated in a service with so much neshama or ruach. Every prayer that was sung came straight from the heart. The tunes, many of which I was already familiar with, were made all the more beautiful because EVERYONE was singing. (One of the biggest disappointments for me in Orthodox services is how reluctant women are to pray and sing out loud.) The natural harmonizing and enthusiasm with which they approached each prayer was uplifting. It is absolutely beautiful.

Next up: dinner. The thing with our apartment is that our dining room table is this small round nothing, not big enough for all of us to fit around. So when we do have apartment meals we end up spreading out a blanket on our porch and basically having a picnic. Shabbat meal was very nice. Now that we are no longer in middle-of-nowhere desert our options on places to go for food have expanded exponentially. The most important result of this being that we have found a bakery that makes the most wonderful challot I have found this year (remind me very much of the ones we get back at home, just a little less cakey). I had made shnitzel, ground meat, stir fry, and rice. Two other roommates had made roast potatoes and a salad. Oh...and the day before I had made apple pie for dessert. Suffice to say that we had enough food for leftovers for Saturday lunch and then some. The rest of the night was spent in a leisurely manner with some singing, card playing and reading.

Saturday morning and afternoon was spent lounging around in typical Shabbat like fashion. Late afternoon, Ilana and I headed out for a walk with our goal being to go to the Kotel in time for havdallah. Walking directly and with purpose one can get from Beit Ar-El (the Year Course campus where I live) to the Kotel in under an hour. We took our time, stopping in Gan Hapa'amon (Liberty Bell Park) and taking a few extra detours, arriving at the Kotel 2 hours after we left and right in time for Maariv.

I have been to the Kotel many times (though this was the first time so far on Year Course). A few things that made this trip unique:

• There's something very special about walking to the Kotel and not just taking a bus to the Yaffo Gate. The other time that I had done something similar (on Machon) it had been spectacular but had been part of the program. This was a trip I took with a friend on our own initiative.
• I had never seen the Kotel more empty. I had no trouble getting right up to the wall and even got to daven all of Maariv without interruption.
• At one point while at the wall I was sandwiched between a young Orthodox woman on my right and an old Indian Christian woman on my left. I thought that was seriously cool.
• During my visit, a woman was lying prone on the ground. I had initially assumed she was praying and was just extremely emotional. Soon though, women started crowding around trying to ascertain her condition by shaking her, splashing water on her face etc. Within minutes a few of the police/soldiers on patrol are there calling מד"א (Magen David Adom), a man has jumped right over the mechitza, another comes through the more conventional entrance. Somehow it seemed word had spread and every person with medical training was coming to lend assistance. Less than 15 minutes after the incident began the ambulance had come and gone. Shabbat had only been over in those last 5 minutes. This is one of the most clear examples of how Judaism values health and life above all else.

It was a wonderful Shabbat here in Yerushalayim and I can only hope there will be many more to come.

Toto, I don't think we're in Arad anymore...

I have officially moved and settled into my third and final trimester of Year Course where I will live in the Baka neighborhood of Jerusalem for the next 3 months.

A quick reflection on my time in Arad:

Many participants couldn't stand what they thought to be the isolation and monotony of living in Arad. I very often also refered to where I lived "middle-of-nowhere-desert", but despite any disparaging comments I may have made about Arad I absolutely loved living there. The way life is lived there is so different than anything I'm used to. Growing up in New York City I'm used to the hustle and bustle on the street. I'm used to walking quickly and purposefully from place to place. I'm not used to recognizing people on the street and stopping to say hello, or crossing the street and having to stop for a car being driven by someone I know. I'm not used to a city without a single traffic light. I'm disoriented when I walk up the biggest street in the city and passing less than half a dozen cars.

I found Arad peaceful. It was very much what you made of it. Arad didn't have the luxuries of the cultural life available in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. And so we had an informal "Girls Night" once a week, hosted at a different apartment each time. We planned Garin Tzedek nights for the entire section. I ran Sports Night with the Sudanese kids and taught English classes two other nights. Some nights we would all go hang out at Muza or Kadim (the two local restaurant/bars). Some nights there were activities planned by the madrichim like paintball or a movie. But more importantly than the ways we found to occupy ourselves was the atmosphere within which we did them. Everything was laid back and relaxed. No one rushed anywhere (which meant that YCers did not show up until at least 20 minutes after the requested time). For some, this manifested itself as laziness, for others it allowed for personal reflection. One of my favorite things was walking a few blocks from my house into the desert and just sitting.

Long story short, I loved living in Arad. But three months was the perfect amount of time. I would never live there permanently and was excited to make the move back to a city.

Now I'm in Jerusalem where they speak more in English than Hebrew, where there are at least 2 cafes and 3 falafel stores on every block and where every American kid coming to study for the year lives. Looking back at this past week since we've moved to Jerusalem I'd say that most of us have probably eaten out more than in our own apartments just because of the sheer novelty of all these possibilities. I'm also feeling this compulsion to go out and experience the city and that sitting in my apartment would be a waste of an evening.

I'm really looking forward to these last three months and love that I'm ending my year here in Jerusalem.