Save a Child's Heart

It's amazing how much kids can affect you.
Yesterday, I started volunteering at SACH (Save a Child's Heart) - a humanitarian organization based in Azur, whose mission is to bring children with heart problems from all over the world to Israel to get the surgeries and treatments that they need (but aren't available in their home countries).  Most of the kids there don't speak English or Hebrew, but that doesn't seem to matter at all; the language of fun and playtime is pretty much universal.  Anyway, you'd be surprised how well some of them seem to have picked up the languages.  Most of the children at the Children's House are there with their mothers, and while others came with nurses.  Our job as volunteers is to play with the kids in the House and, on days when we're assigned to the hospital, to visit the kids that are there pre- and post-surgery to brighten up their days.  The moms also need friendly faces, we've been told: some of them have been here for months already, and it's hard for them to be away from their countries, families, languages, and cultures for so long.
The diversity of cultures in the House is pretty cool.  Most of the children there right now are from Africa, and quite a few of their mothers are dressed in what I assume is traditional African garb: colorful, drape-like clothing that forms a hood around the head and falls down to about their ankles.  In the hospital, we'll apparently see more Muslim families; they generally don't stay in the House, since their homes are not far away in Gaza, etc.  I haven't had a hospital shift yet, but I'm sure it will be an interesting experience.
One of the full-time volunteers brought his guitar to the children's house, so there was a constant stream of sometimes-identifiable, always pleasant music yesterday afternoon - even when the boys, who did not actually know any chords, were jamming away.  (They sort of just plucked random strings and made serious, in-the-music-zone faces - which would have created something pretty jarring had they been hitting the notes with all their might, but the way they were doing it softly actually made for a nice background hum.)
It appears that the organization is very well known in Canada - 4 of the 6 or so volunteers I met yesterday were Canadian (I could pick them out right away - voice inflections, vowel pronunciations...when it comes to sniffing out Canadian accents, I am like one of those bomb-detecting German shepherds, or those labs they keep in 30th St. Station to find drugs.  105% accurate - that means that even if you're not Canadian, chances are you actually are.  Don't mess, I know my stuff.)
Unfortunately, I can't go back to SACH until I get a bit of paperwork sorted out; which, thanks to Israel's lovely bureaucracy, will likely take a bit of time (plus, next week I can't go in anyway - major internship crackdown week!  Get ready for more entries in the Raichel blog, summerbackstage.wordpress.com).  After only one day at SACH, I feel that loss of time with the kids as a tangible hole in my day (existence too strong?) - they're so sweet, so strong (despite their physical fragility), so friendly that they've already made a huge impression on me.  Hopefully I'll get to go back sooner rather than later, and make up the lost time before I leave!
Now, off to run in the increasingly hot morning - gotta blow off the steams of frustration.
Adios.

The Day My Dreams Came True, My Life Found Meaning, and Hespan Became a Real Language

Eso fue la experiencia más מגניב de mi חיים עד ahora.  Asistí a una קבוצת שיחה para practicar mi ספרדית, y todos los חברים היו ישראלים.  Entonces, מה זאת אומרת?  Eso significó que todas las clarificaciones--של משמעויות, למשל--fueron en עברית.  También los נושאים היו conectados a la vida israelí cotidiana.  האמת היא שהייתי הכי confundida linguísticamente que he estado אף פעם en mi vida, pero היה שווה completamente.  בעצם, encontré la משמעות של mi חיים.  Fue מ–ד–ה–י–ם.
I came home on such a language high that I'm ready to propose double language classes as the healthy and legal solution to the world's drug problems.  Seriously, Whoever Will Listen--the U.N., the National Guard, the President, Mexico, The Slums--send your drug addicts and drug lords to Diburimos.  Drug trafficking will stop, violence in the cities and across the borders will meet its end, there will be no more crack babies.  The world will be a better place!
Now is the time for all of you to ask two questions: 1. What the hell does that thing (aka Paragraph One) mean? 2. What on this dear earth of Mother's is "Diburimos"?
To answer question 1, see the translation below:
That was the coolest experience of my life so far.  I went to a conversation group to practice my Spanish, and all of the group members were Israeli.  So, what does (did) that mean?  It meant that all of the clarifications--of definitions, for instance--were in Hebrew.  The topics (under discussion) were also connected to daily Israeli life.  The truth is that I was the most linguistically confused that I have ever been in my life, but it was totally worth it.  Basically, I found the meaning of my life.  It was a-m-a-z-i-n-g.
(Redundant?  Sorry.  The redundancy disappears when you alternate languages each time you have to write the word "life.")
To answer question 2: "Diburimos" is the Spanish conversation group program run by המכון לידידות אמריקה, the American Alliance Institute.  They have multiple Diburimos levels (I went to "Superiores" :) ), and you can join the group without being enrolled in any of the Institute's classes.  I spoke/listened in a group made of myself, two elderly women, two middle-aged-elderly men and one late-twenty-something muchacha, under the elocutionary (what??) guidance of Estér, our lively Diburimos guide from México.  My Spanish speaking skills are definitely not what they once were (I think they peaked in high school under the meticulous instruction of Señor Leven), but the fact that I could understand la gran mayoría of what the Superiores said--and chime in every few minutes myself--means that I might still get it all back.  Fingers crossed!

"Diburimos," by the way, is a marvelous invention of Hespan that even I--an experienced Hespan speaker, just ask mi Abba--never thought to compose: it combines the Hebrew word דיבור (speaking) with the Spanish "we" verb ending -imos in a single word.  Give or take--since technically דיבור is a noun, "the act of speaking"--"Diburimos" is Hespan for "We speak"/"We are speaking."
Genius.

One Day/Day One in Tel Aviv

This city is TEEMING with people--all of whom, apparently, I know. 
Ok, slight exaggeration.  But I did see five people I knew today while walking in Tel Aviv, only one of whom I'd planned to meet.  The others (one Moshava, one Brandeis, two Haifa) were quite happenstantial (new word--you like?), and made the world seem much smaller than I know it must actually be. 
I learned that bus 25 will take me WHEREVER I need to go--Rabin Square, Dizengoff Center (To do what?  להזדנגף, duh);
I taught a Russian man who owned a bakery that the word he was searching for that went with "gentlemen" was "ladies"--of which, in his eyes, I apparently was one (he made a point to say so while handing me my orange juice and kindly shaking my hand);
I saw the woman who sang "Shir LaShalom" when Rabin was killed--she's still street performing next to the Carmel Shuk and Nahalat Benyamin, same as she was four years ago when I last saw her;
I discovered that I am not as directionally challenged as I'd thought.  I made it home okay!
Tonight I ate my weight in keish and pashtida, all the while being thoroughly entertained by a senior sefaradi man who had an insane talent for keeping a straight face while making insane comments.  This was a dinner with Zeev's side of the family, and I very much enjoyed myself!
Moral of the story: great first day.
Must. Go. To. Sleep.

NOT Gonna Call This "Goodbye, Haifa."

Today is my last day in Haifa.  Is it possible to viscerally miss a city?  I haven't even left yet, but I'm already feeling nostalgic over the imminent loss of the ethereal view from the mountaintop, the perfect pairing of greenery and white stone (some flowers, too) that characterizes this place, the way the sky-blue Mediterranean seems eternally caught in your peripheral vision.  Don't get too sad, Ariel - you'll be back.
Yesterday, I had two very special guests to show around my city for a final hoorah.  We started the day at the beach (three days in a row at the beach = my ring tan is forming perfectly.  I know you were dying to know), walked through Merkaz HaCarmel, and then sat down by the Louis Promenade to take in - what you may have guessed by now is my favorite part of Haifa - the view.  We met a few Christian missionaries, were sort-of-not-so-subtly told that Jesus saves, and went on our way.  Rose and Hillel left, I went home to pack, said a few tearful goodbyes, went to sleep, and now here I sit: bags downstairs, room empty but for the few things I'll still be needing until 2:15.  Awaiting my next adventure: Tel (okay, Ramat) Aviv.

The Post I Started Writing a Month Ago, and Never Finished

Hi!
Long time no write.  Things have been rather crazy around here - when was the last time I posted here?
If I remember correctly, I promised to tell you about the International School's trip to the north and about Yom Ha'atzmaut in Haifa.  Since they were so long ago, I'll do it quickly:
TRIP TO THE NORTH! - If you were ever curious as to whether it would be fun to sleep outside when it's raining, I can quench your thirst for knowledge here and now: It's not.  Granted, it makes for good stories later.  Waking up at one o'clock in the morning, feeling rather confused as to what those wet drops are that are falling on your face, looking up and having the misfortune of having another one of said drops fall straight into your eye, realizing through the foggy thought process that is the grogginess of interrupted sleep that, wow, it is raining.  You have no possibilities for shelter other than your sleeping bag (holding up surprisingly well, I might add - you are definitely more fortunate than other people in the group in that regard at least), and you conclude that you'd do best to try and go back to sleep if you don't want tomorrow's hike to be a living hell.  You'd cry, if you weren't sure it would turn out to be rather funny tomorrow (you have a knack for recognizing future "Remember when THAT happened?" moments - didn't you know?).  Plus, you're one of the lucky ones: your EMS mummybag seems miraculously able to keep out the water.  The International-School issued sleeping bags are not so kind to their now conscious inhabitants.  With that smug thought, you embrace the raindrops and fall back to sleep.
(Yes, I am fully aware that I started that paragraph saying that it sucks to sleep outside when it's raining, and ended it with a hint of positivity - contradiction, you may claim?  Stream of consciousness, I declare.)
YOM HA'ATZMAUT IN HAIFA! - To describe this experience, I will say two words: Shiri Maimon.  If that means nothing to you, watch and learn: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUFO8KjOrBU&feature=BFa&list=AVGxdCwVVULXcAkPdClPu4htwrEmvrHcxw&index=4 .
(In case that was a little too obscure, I'll say a little more:


About 1 month later:
I was going to say a little more, but never got around to it.  Now going back to it just seems a little anticlimactic...living in the past, you know?  Best to live in the present.

Found: Puppy! Lost: Puppy.

My dream came true: we found a puppy!
My nightmare came true too, though: we lost him :(
Hoping he'll come back soon.
His name is Orez (rice) - he's adorable.  He also has a Facebook (puppies are so technologically savvy these days, no?): http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002429347992&sk=wall
Maybe he went back to his real mama. 
Going to go to the gym (but secretly going to look for Orez).
Real update (trip to the north, etc) to come later!

The Bat Mitzvah Girl Can Stand Under My Umbrella-ella-ella-ay...etc.

So it looks like I forgot to write anything about Passover--after the seder, which I keep trying to write as "seders," American girl that I am--or about the rest of my vacation in general.  Which ends tomorrow, by the way.  Am I sad?  For the first time, not particularly.
Now, don't get my wrong: I will never, not in a million and a half years, tell you that I enjoy going to class.  Never.  But, I hope it will not come as such a surprise to hear me say that I miss seeing people.  Yep--I, Ariel Hirsch, am a social human being.  (For the record, I learned last night from a group of psychology majors that the term "antisocial" does not merely refer to people who aren't chillers.  Those people are "asocial."  The "antisocial" ones are those that kill cats when they're kids, and grow up to kill humans.  I am proud to say, ladies and gentlemen, that I am NOT antisocial.  Asocial at times, perhaps, but certainly not even that after a full two and a half weeks of forced solitary confinement.)
Okay, that last part was an exaggeration.  It hasn't been a full two and a half weeks.  I had a lovely time with my cousins earlier this week at Maya's bat mitzvah, for instance.  The Schoris threw a great party--white benches, cute DJ, good food and all--and Maya and her friends put on a great little (oxymoron?) dance to "Umbrella."  A lightening-fast costume change, and the four girls were in matching leggings, plaid shirts and hair clips.  And guess what?  They actually USED umbrellas in their dance!  Genius.  (It really was cute though: every other dance phrase ended with Maya in the middle, the other three girls usually pointing their hands or umbrellas at the bat mitzvah girl.  There was no doubt who was the queen of this little shindig :P .)
When I wasn't stuffing my face with squares of pareve cakes--revealed to me after a short period of dismay at my initial (and, thank goodness, wrong) perception that all the desserts were dairy--I was with the little kids, after having been asked personally by little Lihi Hutt to swing her on the swings.  There, we met her friend Leah, who had the most amazed reaction to my statement that I was from the United States that I have ever been privy to hear ("You're from the United States?  Wow.").  As it turns out, Leah actually knew some words in English (colors, most of them translated correctly), and when asked how she knew such great words, she answered that she had an aunt in the United States.  "Where in the United States," I inquired, interested.  "In the United States..." was Leah's reply.  And then it hit me:  "Leah, did you know that there are fifty whole states within the United States?  Do you know which one your aunt is from?"  "No...She's from the United States!"  And that was that.  I knew fifty states was overkill anyway.  Alabama's all we need.  Would anyone like a grit?
Before I left the party, Goni asked me to take pictures with her in the photo booth (the other main attraction of the party, after Maya), which I did oh-so-willingly.  Then, we had the following heartbreaking interaction:

Background: Gadi, Dana, Goni, Alon and Yoav are going back to California this week
Goni: So I'll see you...um...
Extended pause while both try to think of the next time the two will be within a reasonably travelable distance of each other--the six and a half year old in probably less complicated terms.
Ariel: I'm sure we'll see each other again soon!  Either in Israel or in the States.  And you can call or
      email me whenever you want to.
Goni: Brightening up at the idea:  Okay!  I can email you on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays, and
      call you...everyday!
Ariel: That sounds great!  While being ushered out the door by Daphna:  I'll talk to you soon, Goni!
Goni: Slightly frantic:  Wait!  I don't have your phone number!
Ariel: Realizes that Goni's right, but cannot escape the inexorable force of Daphna's urgent ushering: 
      I'll email it to your dad.  Promise!

Have no fear: I sent Gadi my phone number and email address later that night.  Waiting with great anticipation for my first email/phone call.

The rest of break has been quiet.  I finished my book for Hebrew (266 pages, almost no dictionary usage!), worked on a presentation for Rabbinic Lit class about Kol Isha (it made me resent the rule a little bit more, instead of instilling within me a new appreciation for the halacha, as I'd hoped), learned how to make schnitzel from my Israeli apartmentmate, found a cockroach, ate a bit of ice cream, had a shrunk potluck Shabbat dinner or two, and I think that's about it.  Most people have been gone for break--Italy, Greece, Istanbul, Hungary, US, Ein Gedi, to name a few destinations--leaving the prospects for social things pretty limited.  That's why I'm almost happy that break is over.  Classes, no, but people?  Yes puhLEASE.

I'd like to thank the Academy...and H____ R____...

In case you were wondering, the difference between an American seder and an Israeli one is that the latter is much, MUCH faster.  After much (little) deliberation, I came to the startling (obvious) conclusion that this Seder-on-Speed phenomenon is due to Israelis' fluency in Hebrew.  Can you believe it??  So could I.  בקיצור, The Hebrew Factor (as it will henceforth be called) enabled a lightening-speed reading of the "Maggid" section of the Seder--you know, the section that usually takes Americans/Canadians/pick-your-"ans" hours to plow through.  Now, since I know that you are curious, I will tell you what you are all dying to know: yes, I did take a turn reading from the Haggadah, and yes, it was from the section that I learned with my class for Perelman's Model Seder in third or fourth grade.  Ever thought that the Model Seder served no earthly purpose?  Well, you were wrong.  It was because of those weeks and weeks of grueling practice with H_____ R______, going over and over again the words "Raban Gam-li-el haya omer...--it's a mercha there, class, not a munach!" that I was able to avoid embarrassment at the speed with which I generally read previously unseen paragraphs of Rabbinic Hebrew.  Thanks to the Model Seder, I was able to stand my ground, the lone American at a table of Israelis.  H______ R______, out of sheer gratitude for all that you have apparently given me, I promise that I will never again recall the anecdote about the time my classmates put chalk on your chair at the front of the classroom when you weren't looking, so that when you sat down you would have chalk on your butt.  Never again.

The Beginning of My Never-Ending Vacation

I've given up on writing retroactive play-by-plays of the weeks-and-a-half that fall between my blogs.  It takes the excitement out of the experience.  For me and for you (Even if that's not true, just go with it.  You're telling me that by the time you get to reading about the fifth day that I missed, you can't hear the boredom in my tone?  I'd imagine it's pretty contagious.  And if for some reason you can't hear it, then I guess I'm a much better writer than I thought.  Spelling, on the other hand, not so much.  Before I rewrote it, two sentences ago turned out: And if for some reaosn you can't ear it, then i gues i'm a much better writer than it hoguht.  To each her own.  You stick to your strengths, I'll stick to mine.)
I'm at Daphna, Zeev, Noa and Michal's house right now.  Earlier today we returned from a lovely trip to the North with the entire Hutt/Schori/Lichtenstein family: at least twenty of them, grandparents, parents, teenagers, toddlers, newborns.  Delicious barbeque on Thursday night, a beautiful hike on Friday (so many wildflowers!  היה מדהים!  A bit difficult for the youngest kiddies, though...), and a סדנת שוקולד--chocolate workshop--this morning before pool time.  The views all around were beautiful (I feel like I say that quite often, but that's just where I am right now; every place I go in Israel has its own unique backdrop), with Mount Hermon visible from the road.  Despite the heat in our location of Ramot Naftali, the mountain's distant peak was as white as ever with the snow that most other places in Israel will never see.
My favorite part of the trip was the tiyul on Friday.  Five kilometers, a caravan of parents, kids, and cousins, some older ones with younger ones on their shoulders or backs, some walking solo, everyone making sure their walking neighbors were drinking enough water, keeping up spirits, taking pictures (okay, that last one was mostly me and Gadi).  I made friends with Gadi and Dana's eldest, Goni, a sweet six-and-a-half year old who became my walking and talking buddy for the second half of the hike.  Some members of the party were rather irked at the fact that Goni and I were speaking to each other in English--as they correctly pointed out, both of us should have been practicing our Hebrew--but I דווקא loved walking with a fellow English speaker.  Not that I don't love speaking Hebrew whenever I can; it's just nice once in a while to have an easier time of it.  Also, while I loved speaking to all the kids, it was definitely harder to make a good impression in Hebrew.  My childish humor is best conveyed--for now, at least--in my mother tongue.
I'm at Daphna's until Tuesday night, when the trains will start running again.  Vacation has officially started: two and a half of emptiest (homework-wise) weeks I think I've had since ninth grade at Akiba.  To anyone who's asked, I've been telling the absolute truth--that it's somewhat ridiculous that I've been given two and a half weeks of vacation, when it feels like I've been on some sort of vacation for the past three months.  Don't worry, I'm not complaining.  I'd much rather this little arrangement than whatever hell I'll inevitably be served next year at this time.  Let's not think about that, shall we?  I'll enjoy this prolonged "vacation" while it lasts.
Chag sameach!
Bed time :)
Ariel

"Usually 30, but for you--I give 25..."

Hm...What to tell, what to tell...
I'll start with an enlightening cultural experience.  For my "Markets, Games and Strategic Behaviors" class (probably my least favorite of the four--I like math, but only when it's taught in a way that's comprehensible to the average human being), we have to do a project on bargaining in Israel.  My partner, Josh, and I chose to test the effects on prices of bargaining in Hebrew and English.  We began our project on Wednesday morning in Daliyat Al-Karmel, the Druze village fifteen-minutes away from campus by bus.  The first thing we learned was that bargaining is best done quickly; the longer you linger in a store without accepting or offering a price, the less pleasant the storeowner becomes until you as the patron actually feel that you are doing him/her a favor by leaving without buying.  (Granted, in the first store we were essentially just testing the bargaining waters, with no real intention of making a purchase.  So I guess he had a right to be something less than pleased.)  There weren't enough stores in the village to be able to draw any conclusive conclusions from our experience just yet, but it was interesting to note that when we bargained in Hebrew in one store, the storeowner assured us that he would not be giving us "a tourist price," a response which one could take to mean that because we were using the local language, he did not see us as one hundred percent, fresh off the plane, culturally ignorant tourists.  (On the other hand, one could also imagine that "I won't even give you a tourist price" is a line that he feeds to tourists on a daily basis, in an attempt to trick them into believing that they're facing an especially good deal.  For the record, we made him bring the price below this "un-tourist" price before making our purchase.  Please excuse me while I brush the dirt off my shoulder.)  If you ignore that section in parenthesis, then you could say that our research is off to a pretty good start.  If nothing else, this project is helping me get over my fear of bargaining (I always just feel so bad!).
This weekend I'm in Herzeliya/Ramat Aviv/Rishpon with the Hutts.  Michal and Noah's English never ceases to amaze me (though I love catching their slang when they speak in Hebrew, too :P), Amir is no longer too scared to talk to me (he showed me his Go-Gos!  Remember those?  Weird plastic faces.  I think mine came in a purple coffin back in the day...), Yaron remembered my name, Maya lent me her beautiful room, and Ohad told me about his love for tennis.  The weekend's off to a wonderful, zen start so far, though sometime tomorrow I will have to be somewhat productive.  מה שבא בא.  Sababa.

לילה לילה

The Young and the Mistaken

I stand corrected:
As my dear father pointed out, סרט does not relate to VHS technology, but rather to movie film reels (though apparently both technologies did use a ribbon!).
I guess I'm not as old as I thought.
Not necessarily a bad thing.  I do so love passing as 18-and-under for the cheap bus passes...

What's in a nombre?

I've been watching the news more closely since last week, and I'm happy to report that the top story on Haaretz.com (when I started writing this post--about Monday or Tuesday) has nothing to do with Israel--a fact that I am eager to see as a sign that, since the bombing in Jerusalem last week, things have gotten better.  Or, perhaps more likely, at least have not gotten any worse.
I spent the weekend with camp friends near Modi'in, the last stop on the train line that friends and I usually take to Tel Aviv.  The place was creepily similar to how I imagined it since I started going to camp the summer before sixth grade: the majority of residents are Bnei Akiva affiliates, everyone knows Chana Spiegelman, and on Friday nights the whole community socializes outside next to the צומת until the wee hours of the morning.  Of course, I coerced Estie into bringing me to Chana's house Saturday evening for a quick hello--I knew I would never live it down (Bubbe sighs of disbelief--and my own, in fact--would have haunted me for eternity) if I didn't pay a visit to the Rosh Mosh when I was just a stone's throw from her house.  As expected, she asked me what I would be doing this summer and, to my extreme relief, I was able to say with confidence that I was planning on staying in Israel--the one answer that, I am pretty sure, was seen as the single acceptable alternative to a summer at Moshava.  Incredibly, I'm only half joking (though I don't say any of this with disdain--after nine years in the system, I have been programmed to think similarly).
Sunday was MASA's Hallelujah Contest auditions at Beit Hatfutsot in Tel Aviv.  I think I mentioned before that I was mainly going to the audition for the experience; still true, but since they went a lot better than expected (a.k.a. they didn't cut me off after two notes), I'm awaiting the results with slightly more optimism than I had originally planned.  The audition experience itself was really neat: I was on stage, the judges sat in the 3rd-ish row of seats facing me, there was a camera positioned in front of me and one on the side (that one followed my every move, which was a bit weird), a piano man behind me, a microphone and stage lights.  It felt very professional, which in and of itself was pretty awesome.  My first verse (of the Hebrew song "Mah Avarech") was actually rather dismal, but since the judges didn't stop me, I kept singing and got much better.  The judges must have felt so, too, because soon then they made me stop and sing the song higher, and then they made me sing an English song (so they could hear what I sounded like "in my mother tongue").  That, I hadn't prepared (they never told us to!), and I chose "Seasons of Love" from Rent because it was the ONLY English song that had not exited my brain at that very moment, of course.  Funnily enough, it was also the only song that their piano man--whom the judges had claimed at the beginning of the audition to know every song ever written--did not know how to play, so I started singing it a cappella and the piano man joined in later.  Long story short (though I guess you've already heard the long story, so this is really just making it longer) it actually went well, and I'm slightly more excited to hear what they'll have to say.
Last night (Thursday) there was a party at the Technion dubbed, quite accurately, "The Champagne White Party."  Yes, there was a lot of champagne; yes, everyone was wearing some element of white; yes, there were a lot of stereotypical Technion חנונים; yes, it was fun.
Tonight, Doreen and I went to Shabbat dinner at Kibbutz Naama, an urban kibbutz in Migdal Haemek.   The kibbutz does not exist on a piece of farmland: Kibbutz Naama collectively owns/rents a number of apartments and houses throughout the area, and its ~80 members live there in their kvutsot (smaller "family" units--we were with Kvutsat Hayovel).  For those who are curious, here's there website: http://www.kyovel.org/index.htm.  Two of the kibbutz members were in my ulpan class (it was one of them--Emily from Australia--that invited me to dinner). 
Dinner was lovely--great food and great company.  Personally, my favorite part of the evening was when the older of the two children in the kvutsah, Kinneret (4), asked me to read some of her Hebrew storybooks aloud to her before she was made to go to bed (yes, you were right: we DID read the טלטאביז book twice).  Kinneret began talking to me almost as soon as she came upstairs and saw me and Doreen chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and our friendship quickly progressed: from Disney Princess talk, to gift-giving (she gave me a green, beaded cell phone charm; she took it back about two minutes later), to ''הנה מה טוב ומה נעים'' swaying, to a discussion of the Hebrew word for "Penguin" (it's פינגווין--go figure), to the our previously mentioned dive into the profoundest of literatures.  It was probably the most effortless friendship with a kid I've ever had: as soon as Emily told Kinneret that "Ariel" was coming for dinner, Kinneret--Disney Princess fan that she is--was already excited to meet me.  Never before has my name gotten me so far.  
A Hebrew thought before you (I) go: the word for "movie" is the same as the word for "ribbon," "סרט."  Tonight, with the help of one of Kinneret's storybooks, I figured out why: remember when (am I that old that I can say that?) we used VHS's, and the the movie was printed on the ribbon inside?  Genius.

Today's Events

There was a bombing in Jerusalem today.
Things like this happen, and I suddenly remember that I am, in fact, in Israel.  For better or worse.
I had planned on paying more attention than usual in Women in Israel today (great topic, but the professor's misuse of prepositions makes it nigh impossible to follow her lecture as closely as one might like), when a Gchat from my Hebrew University friends informed me of the bombing.  For the rest of the class, I had one eye on the Arabic movie with English subtitles being projected onto the whiteboard, and the other on Haaretz, JPost and CNN for updates.  All of my Israel friends are fine, to the best of my knowledge.  But even all the way up in Haifa, I felt pretty shaken up.  Partly for my own sake, but mostly, I think, in solidarity with those that were closer to the tragedy.  Israel's a small place--when events like this occur, you begin to feel connected to everyone.
Then I read about the events in the south these past few weeks with the rockets (I really believe that the International School should keep us more informed of current events in Israel--I'm actually quite annoyed that I only heard about about the killing in Itamar and the rockets in Beer Sheva by coincidence many days after the facts).  All of this news fills me with worry for the state of the State of Israel.  I know that we are strong, but I hope that we won't have to pay with any more lives.  (Am I allowed to say "we"?  I've been force-fed the Bnei Akiva doctrine of "Israel is YOUR home" for nine years of my life, and I've now lived in this country for a total of six--albeit nonconsecutive--months.  But can I count myself in the "we" yet?  A question that I still haven't answered for myself.)
One thing scares me most is that I'm now at the age where I know boys and girls that are serving in the Israeli army.  On the one hand, I'm glad that the army is so present and ready to defend us should the occasion call; on the other, I'm not glad that it is my friends--present and former both--that will have to be the ones to do so.  It brings everything much closer to home, adds another degree of worry to the list.

Just to be clear, I do not feel unsafe here.  My program has given us no indication that we should be wary of any places or bus lines, and life in Haifa is continuing as usual.  Given the responsible and efficient way that the university handled the evacuation during the Carmel fire last semester, I am confident that, in the event of an emergency, the correct measures will be taken to ensure our safety.

Until next time, hopefully with happier thoughts to share,
Ariel

How to Avoid Death by Drowning

I was about to watch the latest Shameless episode and/or continue the aimless Facebooking that has become the main constitution of my free time of late, when I became aware (via Facebook, of course) that this person has yet again updated his Israel blog.  His number of entires is now up to an impressive 30, while mine are at a measly 13 (granted, mine are longer--yes, you're right).  Since I know that I'll likely be met back at Brandeis with an "I blogged more than you did!" or two (or three...or an infinite number) if I don't step it up, I've decided to do just that.
A bunch of music-related things have happened to me in the past few days (What? A musical discussion topic in Rhythm and Muzika? Shocking...).  My friend Jeremy had said earlier in the semester that he'd help me with my (very) amateur a cappella arrangement of Gavin Degraw's "Chariot," and it looks like tomorrow morning will be day one of the process.  I hope to be able to put the parts that I've sung into Garageband onto an actual virtual music score (that sounds oxymoronic, but what I mean is a real, computerized music score), both to make it easier for me to move on with and edit the arrangement, as well as to learn more about how to write music.  The notes I can figure out, but the timing was a real challenge when I tried to do this myself before--so hopefully I'll learn something here that will make me better able to arrange songs on my own in the future.
Music-related event number two: we started our volunteer projects in Haifa today, and Jeremy and I are hoping to start a music activity with the kids at the community center.  They have some really sophisticated recording technology, so one idea--if the kids are interested--is to teach them songs and record a few tracks for a CD.  If we sang some English songs along with the Hebrew ones, we could also integrate some English teaching through the music.  If it all works out, I think it could be a really great project on many levels!
Music story 3: I signed up to audition on Sunday in Tel Aviv for a Jewish singing competition run by the Masa organization.  The prizes are pretty intense--recording with an Israeli star, going on a combined touring/voice training trip around Israel in August, and more things that I cannot remember--but to be perfectly honest, I'm going to the audition simply for the experience.  The chances of winning are super slim, but I figure that that gives me more of a chance to breath--literally--and enjoy a low-pressure audition in which I can practice not being nervous at this type of thing for once.  Plus, for all of my talk (actually, "all of my thought" might be more accurate) about how my dream is to be singing/playing guitar one day on the street/in a cafe/in my room and be noticed by the right people who could make my dream music career a reality, I would be incredibly silly not to go to Tel Aviv on Sunday.
It's like that joke about the man who's about to drown in a flood and waits for G-d to save him: a boat passes by and he doesn't take it; a helicopter drops a rope down but he refuses; a whale swims by and he doesn't climb on.  Ultimately he drowns, and up in Heaven asks G-d why He didn't send him any help--to which G-d replies that He sent him a boat, a helicopter and a whale, but the man simply wouldn't take the help that was sent his way.
I do NOT want to be that dead man--literally or metaphorically speaking.

I'm Too Tired to Think of a Real Title--Sorry

Only a week and a bit late: Eilat was amazing.
Lovely desert views, relatively challenging hikes (the second day more so than the first, but both were really pretty), cooking משותף.  I chopped veggies for the salad.
Friday night we slept outside--וואי, איזה קור!--and had one and a half kabbalat shabbat services.  The first was a spontaneous Carlebach service, made possible by one siddur and a few curious participants (some knew the words, some did not, but who needs words when you're swaying kumbaya-style?).  Unfortunately, we were asked to stop our slightly more traditional service to join the official International School one, which consisted of kiddush around the bonfire.  I guess that version had its merits, too (warmth for one, bigger group atmosphere for another), but the intimate makeshift service definitely did more for me.  Aside from my general preference for the traditional תפילות, I always take a lot from group singing.  When harmonies are involved, the resonances always seem to me to reach to שמים.
Sleeping outside on Friday night was definitely an experience.  Freezing, but no animals, thank goodness: nighttime visits from baby rattlesnakes and their desert equivalents more than once a year is more than I can handle.  The stars apparently out in the wee hours of the morning, but while I was likely awake at that time I didn't think at any point to turn my head up to look at the sky (that would have meant facing not only the stars, but the wind, too).  So, sadly, no stars, but at least I was able to keep my face warm.
After a full day of hiking on Saturday, we had a free night in Eilat.  That ended earlier than you might expect since, sun-tired and hungry, most of us went to sleep right after dinner (yummy all you can eat laffa and salads at a mediterranean place a little bit off the beaten track--next to an abandoned lot, in fact, though the location says nothing about the venue or its food).
On Sunday morning, the girls and I walked around the Eilat mall until it was warm enough outside to go to the beach.  There, we found out that customer service is somewhat unheard of in many parts of this country.  Example from the שטח: Most of the stores in the mall were just starting to open, and a Claire's-like accessories store caught our collective eye.  The door was open, so we walked in to look at their headbands.  All of a sudden, an angry Israeli woman came up behind us: Couldn't we see that the doors were closed?  We're not open yet!  Get out!  Now, first of all, one of her doors was open, so speaking to us like idiots who had walked into a closed store was just plain inaccurate.  Second of all, taking that tone with potential patrons was a sure way to guarantee that none of us would ever walk into her store again.
We left the mall soon after that episode and spent the rest of the morning in the sun, rude cashiers forgotten.  Eilat's beach was certainly nothing to sneeze at--very rocky, with 20-shekel-to-sit lounge chairs polluting most of the sittable sand--but we found some open sand/rocks/glass that fit our sunbathing purposes quite nicely, and camped out there for a few hours.  Then came the bus ride back home to Haifa, an appraisal of the day's tan (definitely visible, but the SPF 30 prevented any true Eilat color--I should be thankful, I guess), and some much needed sleep.
Monday night I went out with Gilly (apartmentmate), her boyfriend and miscellaneous International Schoolers to the Irish House bar in Merkaz Hakarmel, which was fun both because it just was, and because it was a Monday night (I still haven't gotten over the weeknight fun culture of Israel/study abroad).  Thursday night a group of us went to Duke for St. Patrick's day--another Irish bar and another great time.
Friday I met Doreen in Tel Aviv, and from there we went down to Ashdod to stay with her cousins for Shabbos.  A really sweet family, great food, lots of Hebrew, and a beach nearby.  I learned the Hebrew word for "to tan" (להשתזף--which I actually did this time!), found out what it means to poyke on the beach (don't get any ideas--a poyke is a type of pot used for slow-cooking veggies and meat), and still made it back to Haifa in time for אגודת הסטודנטים's (basically the Student Union) Purim party at the Haifa Convention Center.  Excellent DJ, though the main event--an Ivri Lider performance--didn't start until 2am, and my friends and I ended up leaving the concert after only three or four songs.  Given that my feet hurt from dancing, my throat hurt from the smoke (when will Israel make it illegal to smoke indoors??), my head hurt from not having eaten enough between a late couscous lunch in Ashdod and the rager, and given the fact that I was less than thrilled with the beginning of Lider's performance, I was happy to head home.
On the table for this week:
Class, International School Purim party, volunteer orientation (I'll tell you more about that when I know more about it), and Shabbat in Hashmonaim.
Talk to you later :)

Beaches and Bank Runs

Quick update!

We're going to Eilat this weekend--scheduled to get on a bus at 4am tomorrow morning (in other words, really REALLY late tonight), hike all of Friday, sleep outside on Friday night, hike Saturday day, sleep at a youth hostel Saturday night, beach it Sunday morning through early-afternoon, head back to haifa Sunday at 1pm.

Things I'm particularly excited for:

1. THE EXERCISE!
2. The views
3. The scheduled Kabbalat Shabbat on Friday night
4. The bonding time
5. The hiking tan
6. The beach tan
7. The warm weather (at the beach--not so much on the hike)
8. Potentially seeing my camp friend at some point during the weekend

Things I'm not particularly excited for:

1. The scheduled bonfire after Kabbalat Shabbat on Friday night (not that I don't love bonfires--I'm just not so comfortable with the idea of lighting a fire immediately after praying to G-d to welcome the Shabbat, the one day of the week when fire is explicitly forbidden...Do we think it's the thought that counts here, too?)
2. Starting a full day hike after waking up at 4am the night before and enduring a long, likely sleep-deprived bus ride
3. The possibly cold conditions under which we'll be sleeping in the desert on Friday night
4. The desert creatures I may encounter during said outdoor slumber.

I'm all for sleeping in tents, but the last time I slept outside (on the Trail with Abba two--was it three?--summers ago), I could not stay asleep for more than 10 minutes at a time out of fear that bears/snakes/mice/many-legged insects were going to eat me.  And for the record, the snake fear was not completely unjustified: earlier that night, I happened upon a baby rattlesnake close by our camp site...(The funnier part of that story was that the thru-hiker who was sharing the site with us for the night tried to catch the snake, in the hopes of posing with it for a picture to send back home to his mother down south.  This baby rattle turned out to be too feisty even for a snake-catching pro like [What-Was-His-Trail-Name??], however, and after a few moments of deliberation--in which WWHTN had the snake pinned by the neck at the end of a stick--WWHTN freed the snake from his immobilizing half-nelson, no picture taken for dear mama.  I hope she wasn't too upset.)

Off to meet with an economics professor to comprehend his generally incomprehensible lessons...Anyone want to start a bank run?

Everything Since Last Weekend

The great thing about forgetting to update your blog is that you get to not update your blog.  The bad thing about forgetting to update your blog is that when you finally remember to update it (לעדכן, by the way, from ''עד כאן''), the prospect of putting your many days' worth of undocumented adventures onto virtual pen and paper looms before you ever more hugely, making the decision to finally sit down to the task that much less appealing.  You will be relieved to know, however, that no matter how often I find myself not looking forward to sitting down and writing a week’s worth of happenings in a single sitting, once I open up my laptop and place my fingers on the keys, I can’t help but do just that—and enjoy it.  It’s curious how many things in life play out that way.

Now, where to begin?

Last weekend was a marvelous blur of unending entertainment: a Hadag Nachash (“the fish is a snake”) concert on Thursday night, followed by an early morning bus to Jerusalem on Friday to stay with Hillel and Rose for the weekend.  We spent Shabbat with Hillel’s parents, cousins, aunt and uncle at his parents’ rented apartment in Rechavia, davened a beautiful Kabbalat Shabbat at a packed Carlebach shull on Friday night, ate a plethora of schnitzel, caught up on sleep, and caught up in general.  Saturday night we went back to Hebrew University, where we stocked up on Burgers Bar (something that’s missing rather conspicuously from the Haifa restaurant scene), added a few more bottles of wine to Suite 413’s collection (no, we did not drink it all ourselves—we merely finished up the Shabbos leftovers), and went to the Ben Yehuda area for the night’s events.  I hung out with real Israelis (it helps with you have a crazy Israeli neighbor named Itai who gives you homemade hummus and rides to the bars in his red sports car), saw camp friends, and generally had a swell time.  You’ve gotta love Israeli theater class-induced friendships: after all the אימפרוביזציה and קטרזיס, there’s no turning back.

Sunday we (all the Haifa kids that spent Shabbat in Jerusalem) met up with the rest of the program for an organized tour of the Old City.  I had Yisrael—one of the International School professors—as my tour guide, and in many ways he reminded me of my Core teacher, Reuven.  He knew his Jerusalem like the back of his hand, and used the Bible—albeit in English—as a walking commentary.  We saw the Christian religious sights, too, which was a first for me.  I just wish we’d had more time at the Kotel, but I know I'll go back there on my own soon.

Probably the most exciting thing about the trip (okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration—but this was definitely exciting, and a first) was that I saw two soldiers that I knew while walking around the city.  One, Josh, I saw while wandering through Machane Yehuda with Hillel and Nadav; and the other, Ben, I saw while on the Old City tour.  The Ben sighting was particularly entertaining: the city was full of soldiers that day because it was a designated יום תרבות, culture day, in which the soldiers get taken on tours and learn about different things in Israel (from what I gathered).  Ben is a mefaked (commander) and at one point, a few of his soldiers ran to join a group of kids who had spontaneously broken into song and dance to welcome the happy month of Adar.  Like a camp counselor who needed to bring his campers back to their assigned activity, Ben went to coax each of his soldiers out of the rotating circle of happiness—and just like campers, each soldier waited to be taken out individually by his commander.  It’s funny how boys never change.

The week was a jumble of scheduling decisions that I’m very glad has finally come to an end.  I’ll be taking four classes this semester and auditing one (though since it’s at 8:30 in the morning on Thursdays, there may very well be a number of weeks that I won’t be there—the beauty of auditing is that it shouldn’t matter): Women in Israel; Markets, Games and Strategic Behavior; Modern Hebrew Literature; Introduction to Rabbinic Literature; and Difference and Equality: the Jewish Struggle for Rights (for the audit).  Hopefully, I’ll be getting major/minor credit for two of those.  If I don’t, it will be interesting to see how I’ll graduate by next May!

Thursday was another night of dancing (GREAT exercise), Friday we made Shabbat dinner (I don’t think it was entirely kosher halachically speaking, but I’m hoping it was the thought that counted there), and today was down to business work-wise, because tomorrow is…(drum rull please) TEL AVIV!  ETD: 09:45.  Itinerary: TBA (though I know it includes the beach and 75 degree weather).  Shopping goals: 1 dorky hat for Eilat hike next weekend, 1 pair cheap sunglasses.  The possibilities for fun times are endless.

Lilah tov everyone,

Ariel

Moonrise in the Sukkah

I'm sitting in my room, two hours and nineteen minutes left until my first class.  After finding out (blessedly) that I did not have to take the Hebrew placement test this morning, I've been dividing my time between doing laundry, painting my nails, writing some emails, listening to my iTunes, making a delicious turkey sandwich, and deciding, after putting water in the pot to boil, that I actually was not hungry enough to make and eat an entire Osem noodle dish, too.
Some pretty exciting stuff to report on from this weekend.
Daphna invited me to go with her family to the Negev from Friday-Saturday, to a place near Mitzpeh Ramon that calls itself "סוכה במדבר," or "Sukkah in the Desert" (the girls, Michal and Noa, found that name quite funny, seeing as how the English translation of "sukkah" cannot be "sukkah").  I'll be straight with you: after hearing that there would be no running water, and seeing a picture of the "sukkot" online, I was not exactly jumping up and down with excitement as the weekend drew closer.  I took a bus and then the train to Tel Aviv on Friday morning (a satisfying accomplishment), and after a short meal and shmooze with the cousins, we set off for the Negev.
The car ride took about two hours, and as the passing fields outside my window turned from green to brown (and the number of cars on the road turned from many to none), I braced myself for what was sure to be an interesting weekend.  At a homemade sign for "Sukkah in the Desert" with an arrow pointing to the right, we turned off the road and began an extremely slow and bumpy journey to the site (slow, because any speed above "turtle" would have put the car's tires in serious jeopardy).  We drove deeper and deeper into the middle of nowhere--all we could see were sand-colored hills to our front, back and sides--and so grew my sense of foreboding.  But then we reached the sight, and I saw the dogs.
Sukkah in the Desert consisted of a series of several wood- and palm tree leaf- huts for sleeping, a larger hut for eating, two outhouses, a chicken coop, a horse pen (with one beautiful brown horse), a donkey pen (with two very vocal donkeys--did you know that donkeys actually make the "hee-haw" sound?!), and about four or five big, free-roaming dogs: at least two huge, furry white ones, and two brown rhodesian ridgebacks.  As soon as I saw and met the dogs, I knew I'd feel at home; it's amazing how animals can calm a person--at the very least, this person.  The rest fell into place perfectly.
While the sukkahs looked cold and primitive from the outside, the insides were beautifully decorated with colorful sheets and homemade arts and crafts.  They were windproof, had wood stoves to keep the inhabitants warm at night, and were supplied with clean sheets and lots of soft blankets to layer on the mattresses (which were spread out on the floor and surprisingly comfortable).  The couple that runs the place--and lives there year-round--made a vegetarian dinner and breakfast for family-style eating.  The bathrooms were not half-bad (wood shavings kept the smell to a miraculous minimum), and there was a sink with running water to use for teeth brushing.  I spent my time reading Harry Potter (sometimes with Noa, sometimes on my own), talking with my cousins, and hiking with them and the other Israeli family that came on the trip.
Friday night was crisp and clear, with a moon so bright that it seemed almost like a cold, gray sun.  We watched it rise over the side of a hill, which was pretty amazing.  Once it cleared the hill, it provided enough light for us to see everything--short of the words in a book--without flashlights.  That was pretty amazing, too.
Saturday we hiked to the crater above which Mitzpeh Ramon sits, and got back to the sukkahs just in time for the anticipated dust storm to set in.  We bid adieu to the desert, and headed back to Tel Aviv for a quiet evening of Daphna's delicious cooking (shakshooka!), Harry Potter, and some much needed sleep.
Suffice it to say that I pre-judged the Negev and Sukkah in the Desert.  Despite my hesitations, this weekend turned out to be one of my best times here so far: family, nature, Harry Potter--the makings of a great time.  It felt a lot like the huts that my family and I go to in the White Mountains most summers--the same warm, rustic atmosphere that I absolutely love.  (The only thing missing was a guitar--I really need to get on that.)  If I didn't say it enough, thank you so much to Daphna, Zeev, Michal and Noa for having me with them!  I had a wonderful time and I hope to see you guys again soon :)

Going to fold my laundry before class--which I'm determined to make fun, whether it's meant to be or not (I'm talking about both class and laundry folding).
Until next time...

Remaining Realizations

Realization Number Two: I love music.  This might not come as such a surprise to many of you, and at first glance the words "I love music" are less than enlightening to me, too.  But let me try to describe to you the extent to which I realize I've come to love music.  I don't just love listening to music; I love contributing to other peoples' music, and I love making my own.  I'm beyond that stage in my life where I could merely sing along to whatever song was playing on the radio and be satisfied.  Now, I can't listen to two measures without breaking into spontaneous harmonies; they're floating somewhere by my ear, right above where the recorded song hits, and the only way for me to catch them and understand them is to sing them.  This can play out in a rather embarrassing scenario, unless of course the harmonies turn out perfectly.  In that case, it's all sunshine and puppies.

I had a slight panic when, about two weeks into my program, I opened my mouth to harmonize to one of my usual songs, and the notes that met my ears were not the ones that I had meant to sing.  Looking back, I realized that I had barely listened to my iPod or sung בקול רם since arriving in Israel, nor had I touched a guitar: the iPod neglect I can only attribute to forgetfulness; the lack of singing to the lack of an outlet for such things on campus; and the absence of my instrument to El Al’s strict carry-on baggage quotas, the limited carrying capacity of my 5’2” frame, and my silly belief that given my sparse playing in recent months, I would not miss it.  Joni Mitchell, and later the Counting Crows had it darn right, though: “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone.”  Cliché as ever, but remarkably true.  Now that I have no guitar, my mind is filled with song ideas (not for new songs, necessarily, but for ways to shape up the old ones—don’t get too excited), and my hands are itching for the feel of the pick as it hits the strings.  Sigh.

The future is looking promising, however: while I will remain guitarless for some time (I hope to go 50/50 with Cayla on the cheapest guitar in Haifa—we just need to find the cheapest guitar in Haifa), my friend Jeremy and I are planning on starting the University of Haifa’s first a cappella group (look out for the BEATachones!), and I’ve started listening to my iPod like it’s my job.  Most of the time, you can find me with a headphone in one ear and a conversation in the other.  I turn on my iTunes every morning while getting ready for class, and I practice my harmonies when I'm pretty sure no one is near enough to hear or be bothered.  I’m on a mission to retrain my ear, and I’m pleased to say that so far, the mission has been a success: the harmonies that I imagine when I turn on a song are easier to imitate these days than they were two weeks ago.  Things look brighter (though that could also be because the sun has returned from its lengthy hiatus) and sound prettier; life is definitely better with a soundtrack.

Realization Number 2.5:  Jason Mraz is one of the best singers/songwriters/musicians of the decade.  He is my current muse, and I want nothing more than to see him play in concert, preferably in a small, intimate venue like he used to play in the old days.  Beautiful voice, thought-provoking (and ever-changing) lyrics, an amazing ability to improvise—he is what I currently aspire to be, musically.

Now, for some updates on Israel:

I made stir fry for the first-and-a-half time (I’ve technically made it once before, but it was with a friend—this time I did it all by myself) and it was מעולה, awesome.  I also made rice without burning it (if you think you can’t burn rice, trust me, you can), and had enough food to use as leftovers for another dinner and a lunch.  I am making some serious progress here.  It's really exciting.  

This is the last week of Ulpan, and then real classes start.  I think I’m going to take four classes at the International School (including Hebrew), and audit one class at the regular university.  I would take a class at the university, were it not for the fact that my main goal for study abroad is not to study too much.  No, I’m not a slacker.  Yes, I’m learning how to have more fun during the school year, the one thing that I’ve failed at pretty consistently for too many semesters.

Today, Doreen showed us the REAL shook.  Where is the real shook, you might ask?  It’s UNDERNEATH the other one.  The “fake” shook is the one that our madrichim took us to the first week of Ulpan: it looks pretty, and it charges higher prices than the real one.  The real one is a bit farther down the road: descend a set of stairs that you wouldn’t notice from up the street, and you’re there.  It’s underground, grimy, dirt cheap (is there a pun there?), beautiful.  I would say that it’s the best-kept secret in Haifa, except that everyone in the city knows about it besides the International Students.  Plus, the best kept secret in Haifa is the Druze religion...Hehe.  (Get it?  Druze is literally a secret religion.  We learned that today from our guest lecturer.)

Off to make dinner and study for my Ulpan final (Thursday).  My newest Hebrew words:

להתמנגל (lehitmangel) = to mingle

גירית (girit) = a badger (yep, I learned that one from Harry Potter)

Realization 1/2.5

I've had two and a half realizations over the last couple of weeks.
The first is how incredibly secular the city of Haifa is.  It's not that no one warned me before I came here; I just didn't believe what I considered to be unwarranted pessimism.  Suffice it to say that you Negative Nancies were right.  This time.
Please don't misunderstand me, though: I love Haifa.  It's big enough that it feels free, but it's small enough that it's not overwhelming.  It's comfortably cosmopolitan, and there are enough cozy cafés here for me to feel more than content (for any who don't yet know, my ideal afternoon consists of sitting in a quiet café in the middle of a bustling city, book in hand, cappuccino at lips).  The bus system is user-friendly, there is a marvelous selection of falafel shops, and the store owners have more patience with Hebrew-attempting Americans than their counterparts do in busier cities.  And the fact that it is so secular means that the buses run on Saturdays, an important ingredient in many weekend plans.
Still, though, I won't hide my surprise at the apparent lack of any religious Jewish life on the University of Haifa campus.  Rumor has it there is an orthodox shull a long walk away, and a conservative one slightly closer, but so far almost no one on my program has expressed any great interest in making the journey.  It's strange to find myself on a secular program in the Holy Land.
I did have one very meaningful Shabbat experience this weekend.  My friends and I decided to make a potluck Shabbat dinner: the boys made pasta (two kinds!), Abby made quinoa, Orli made salad, Cayla made tuna, someone made veggie schnitzel, Doreen brought ice cream, I can't remember the rest, and I made rice and brought the siddur.  Jeremy made kiddush, I made motzi, and we all dug in.  After dinner, we attempted some shabbat zmirot (I think it's safe to say it was the thought that counted there).  There were a number of special things about that night: it was my first time this trip to open my siddur (in my mind, praying in Israel is always something extra special); the spontaneous decision to hold a shabbos dinner--despite the secular environment, the less-than-optimal kitchen set-ups (double hot plates with plates that seem to shirk heat at all costs), the need to walk our dishes down numerous flights of stairs, the lack of anyone willing or able to cook a meat dish--succeeded against all odds; a group of young Jews, all from different religious backgrounds, came together to perform this ancient Jewish tradition, unasked.  There's something beautiful and humbling in that.  I hope that we hold more such dinners over the course of the coming semester.

Realization number two will come later--it's already 1:10 in the a.m., and Ulpan's bright and early as always.
Tootles

A Lengthy Briefing

(I give everyone permission to read this entry in multiple sit-downs.  Since that's how I wrote it, it's only fair.)

The last few days have gone by in a blur. 

I learned that there actually is a real Hebrew word for “improvisation” (אלתור, instead of the Hebrified אמפרוביזציה).

I went to my first Aroma since I’ve been in Israel.  How I held off for two and a half weeks is beyond even me, but it was well worth the wait.  While Canadian Aroma is like a taste of Israel, Israeli Aroma is like a taste of home.

Okay, that’s a lie.  There’s really no difference, but the idea of drinking Aroma in Israel is much more ExCiTiNg.

I cooked my first real dinner with a friend, Cayla: stir fry with REAL chicken, REAL olive oil, REAL garlic, and REAL vegetables.  It was delicious (I know you all had your doubts—don’t be such haters), and it was extremely exciting to have leftovers to eat the next day (tonight) for dinner.  Life lessons learned: I can cook, cooking can be fun, raw chicken is not as scary as it looks, it really hurts to cut onions and, לצערי as we say in Hebrew, I’ll have to go back on a meal plan next year at Brandeis because cooking is a time commitment that I cannot afford.

I was asked by my teacher to go to the two lowest Hebrew classes as a “guest speaker” on Sunday, and that turned out to be very fun.  While the higher levels listen to professional guest lecturers once a week (Tuesday, for example, an Israeli screenwriter came to talk to us about Israeli cinema; last week an archaeologist presented on underwater archaeology), the students in the lower levels don’t participate because they don’t yet know enough Hebrew to be able to follow what’s being said.  Instead, the teachers invite students from higher levels into the classroom, and the new Hebrew students ask the guest questions about herself in Hebrew that she must then answer in Hebrew.  I was forbidden from using the past tense (do you have any idea how hard that is??), and was instructed to answer the students’ questions in the same way they were asked.  For instance: “Are you going to a restaurant on the weekend?”  “Yes, I am going to a restaurant on the weekend.”  It sounds rather mundane, but it got very funny when one teacher kept making me change my answers in front of the class to make them easier to understand, regardless of whether the revised versions were true or obviously false (and mostly it was the latter).  One notable example:

Student: “Do you play a sport?” 

Ariel: “No, I do not play a sport; I go to the workout room.” 

Teacher: “No.  You do gymnastics.” 

Ariel: “Okay.  I do gymnastics.” 

Long story short, it was fun.  Also, an ego-booster: later that day and the next, I was greeted with many “Great jobs,” “You sounded greats” and “I want to sound like yous.”  It was as if I’d just stepped offstage after a performance.  To me it’s just Hebrew (in all its glory—trust me, I love it), but to them it was an exotic song and dance number.

I apologize for the length of this entry (and at the same time, the brevity: my days here are packed, but I honestly can’t remember/don’t want to bore you with every detail).  Already a few days have gone by since I’ve started writing, and I’m trying my best to fit in as much as I can remember of the highlights without losing readers off the side of the wagon along the way.  If you feel yourself falling asleep (in other words, if you are anyone other than my parents, my grandparents, or Seena—hi, Seena!), hang in there or grab some coffee.  We’re almost at the end of the Oregon Trail.

Quickly (Ha--are my "quicklies" ever true to their word?):

I did my oral presentation for Ulpan on Ba’note.  Ba’note now has 7 more fans.  You’re welcome :).

We went to the Beit Hatfutzot (the Diaspora Museum) in Tel Aviv on Wednesday (I’d been there once before with Bubbe Ann the last time I was in Israel).  Our visit was brief, but interesting.  Fun fact: in their synagogues of the world exhibit, they have a scale model of Beth Shalom.

Last night, most of the International School went to a dancing club called The Loft (everyone went out with their own group of friends, but we all ended up at the same place).  I’ve never felt more like a piece of meat, but when you’re with a group of 10 people, each dancing rather absurdly in an impenetrable circle of friends, it’s easier to relax and have fun.  We did have a distress signal, just in case: if someone started doing weird, 80’s peace sign dancing, they needed to be rescued.  No peace signs flew last night (or rather, this morning), so don’t worry—it was all a good time.

My new favorite breakfast is Honey Bunches of Oats, plain yogurt, and honey.  Used to be granola/plain yogurt/honey, but I realized that that was just wrong.  Honey Bunches of Oats is a little piece of heaven in itself, and add to that the no-fail combo of plain yogurt and a TON of honey, you’ve got yourself a winner.  I just ate some now.  I highly recommend.

Didn’t go to Caesaria this morning.  For better or worse, I decided that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the site on 4 hours of sleep (3am bedtime + 7am wakeup for 8am trip departure = misery).  Maybe I’ll go to Aroma with my Harry Potter and my Morfix (a.k.a. the best Hebrew-English online dictionary in the world), or I’ll walk around Carmel Center or Chorev (I still haven’t learned the difference between the two—should today be the day to cultivate my internal GPS skills?).  Either way, the buses stop running early today for Shabbat, so I have to run!

Shabbat shalom everyone, and I apologize once again for the lengthy briefing.

Akko--Gezhunteit!

The laundry and I are playing a little game.  I’m trying to avoid it at all costs in the godforsaken rain/fog/wind debacle that currently serves as my picturesque landscape, and it is trying to show me—through steadily dwindling piles of shirts, socks, and the like—that I cannot avoid it forever.  Not that forever was my goal here, but I was hoping to escape the task of marching the ever-growing bag of clothing (really, you would think it was alive) through the rain for at least as long as was healthily possible, and socially acceptable.  If the weather is the same tomorrow as it has been since last night—miserable—I think I’ll just have to grit my teeth and march.  A girl can’t live on the same three tank tops forever, you know.

Today the International School took us to Akko.  It would have been much more enjoyable had the rain and the wind let up for just a few hours (and had I gotten the chance to drink coffee before our 8 am departure), but even with those less than optimal conditions it was easy to appreciate the culture and history of the city.  Akko has apparently been an important city in the Middle East for 4000 years, and each civilization or empire that helped to build it left its mark.  Our tour guide showed us how you could see the different generations in the yellow stone walls that characterize most of Akko: the biggest stones on the bottom layer are from the most ancient peoples (the Crusaders, perhaps), and the smaller building blocks towards the top are from more recent societies.  In the tour guide’s words, people simply got lazier through the ages until finally they gave up and started using concrete (see top layer of construction in ancient wall: British prison).

We went through two underground tunnels: a rather rugged one that doubled as a sewage system and crusader escape route, and another, wider tunnel that was fit to transport knights in shining armor (literally) under the city (too bad I wasn't in Akko a few thousand years ago).  Then we were given the chance to explore the shook.  The shook in Akko was pretty amazing.  The narrow alley was chockfull of people and chockfull of stands, and each stand was surrounded by its own special smell: dried fruit, spices, incense, fish—SO much fish (this was not exactly my favorite feature of the place, for obvious reasons).  One of the fish stands even had some dead sharks for sale.  I considered buying one that bore a sharp resemblance to the “Fish are Friends Not Food” shark in Finding Nemo, but settled with taking a picture with him instead.  He had a beautiful smile: very white, sharp teeth.  The picture will be put on Facebook shortly for all who are curious and brave enough to look.

I’m off to take one of the most necessary naps of my life in a few minutes, but I thought I’d give a quick recap of my Ulpan midterm highlights:

Highlight #1: The test on Thursday was supposed to take two and a half hours, but most people in my class (myself included, thank goodness) were out by the one and a half hour mark.

Highlight #2: The last question on the test was an open-ended essay.  I chose the first prompt, “At one time or another in my life, I thought that,” and wrote a semi-true account of how, “At one time or another in my life, I thought that Harry Potter’s world of magic was real.”  It was one of the first in-class essays that I’ve ever enjoyed writing, and I took the opportunity to use my two new favorite Hebrew words, ינשופים and גלימות (learned, of course, through my self-motivated HP in Hebrew Reading Challenge—which is going slowly simply because I’ve been too tired or busy to read recently, thanks for asking).  Owls and cloaks…the premises of a great essay.  Let’s hope Mina agrees.

Freedom, Astroturf and Germans

After class this past Friday, I dropped my books off in Doreen's room, and went to a café to read a book.  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?  I dropped my books off in a friend's room and read a book.  I did no homework.  And I even procrastinated a bit on Saturday.  And I went out to a bar on a school night (Okay, I ordered lemonade.  But it was made from real lemons, and if you ask me it was pretty hard stuff.).  See how far I've come?

Saturday morning was pleasant and sunny (jealous that I get to say that?), and my friend and I decided that it would be the perfect day to begin our bi- or tri-weekly gym excursions.  Little did we know, however, that while the gym itself is open on Saturday mornings, the building in which the gym resides is locked.  One can only gain access to it by dialing the number of the workout room--which can only be obtained in the workout room.  Given that neither Abby nor I had previous knowledge of this procedure, we tried to find an open door to some building on campus that would eventually lead us to the gym (which was at this point of questionable existence), to no avail.  Luckily, the alternative was not half-bad: outside one of the academic buildings is a big square of artificial grass that overlooks the entirety of Haifa and a good chunk of the Mediterranean (remember, the University of Haifa lies at the top of Mount Carmel), and the two of us decided to take off our shoes, stretch, and exercise on the "grass."  The area was people-less, the view superb; it was the most beautiful workout I've ever had (you can catch our photoshoot on Facebook).

After a pretty quiet day of a shower, hummus, some Vampire Diaries (I'm re-addicted--I know it's a bad show but I can't help it!) and some ulpan homework, I went with a group of international students (all American, actually, but from the International School like me) to the German Colony for dinner, and then to a bar in another area of Haifa (I forget if it's Merkaz Hakarmel or Chorev).  Dinner was a mixed experience: we went to an Arabic restaurant called Fattoush, and while the atmosphere was great--great music, outside seating, pleasant weather--I didn't die over my dish.  It was called the "Chalumi Salad," and while it sounded delectable (I really wanted to use that word--just like I really wanted to alliterate with "didn't die over my dish."  Sorry, guys.), I quickly discovered that the fried, mild cheese that's called Chalumi is not my cup o' tea, and that Fattoush missed the memo about salads needing lettuce.  There was really good tzatziki and pitah, though, so I filled up on that (not to worry, parents and grandparents).

Today, ulpan started an hour later as it will every Sunday of the month (which sounded exciting until we all realized that it was ending an hour later, too).  We started reading a story that I recognized as one that I'd read in tenth grade, and went over some exciting (I'm only being half sarcastic here) grammar rules.  Something that I've come to realize over my two and a half years of university study is that when it comes to Hebrew, Akiba really knew what it was doing.  I can't tell you how many times a college professor has assigned or referenced a poem or a short story that I already read in high school.  I haven't determined yet if that is a sign of Akiba's extremely high level of Hebrew education, or if it means that my university's program is somehow lacking; most signs point to the former, but I'm still not sure if that's a positive or a negative in terms of my overall Hebrew education.

Phone call, then Israeli movie in the moadon (I'm already late for that)! 

Lilah tov everyon

Welcome to Mediterranea

While the plan was to take a bus-cab combo to the University, this morning Nurit managed to talk a passing cab driver into taking me from Herzeliya to Haifa for about the same price (so I was led to believe).

Now, the Mediterannean Sea is on my left, Israel is on my right, and a great playlist is in my ear: Dave Matthews, only the best of Glee, the one Ingrid Michaelson song that I know and like ("The Way I Am"), some Kings of Leon.  At this moment, I really appreciate what our Core teachers on Muss used to say to us on our weekly tiyulim--כדאי לנו to look out the window while we travel through this beautiful country!  Their rule about iPods, however, seems a bit misguided.  A soundtrack definitely enhances the viewing experience, the same way that it does in a movie or a play.  Imagine watching a series of pictures with no music playing behind them: the pictures might be lovely, but the music adds a whole new level of meaning, feelings and identification with the subject matter.  Just a theory.

This is my fourth time in Israel, but the view never gets old.

Or rather, it does get older, but in its age it only becomes more beautiful and awesome (not in the dude way--in the awe-inspiring way). 

We are driving up a hill--it's clear that we're headed towards the University, which stands on top of the Carmel Mountain--and I am ready to put down my iPod (where I'm taking notes for this blog) to follow my own advice about looking out the window, when the cab driver starts pointing out places in the area where the recent forest fire hit.  Huge patches of trees are brown and orange instead of green; there is a collection of burnt buildings, which I believe represents one of the first (or maybe the first) neighborhoods to get hit; flowers and signs lie on the side of the road next to where the bus full of jailers-in-training was burned to the ground.  The place deserves my full attention, and after a final note the iPod is put down.

I moved in to my room yesterday (no need to go into detail about that; just know that I have no hangers yet but that I DO have my own bathroom), and have been trying to familiarize myself with the campus since then.  Between yesterday and today I bought a few food- and home-related necessities (Cheerios, PB&J, a Lysol equivalent for the bathroom, pasta (because we all know that's one of the only things I can make--so far!), tuna (protein), coffee...), met a bunch of people, went to a bar as part of orientation (yes, it was school-organized), ate falafel (SO much better than American falafel--I don't understand how 90% of American falafel places mess up their falafels!  Rami's excluded.  He at least knows how to use his chick peas), took an oral ulpan "test," played a few funny but personal space-invading ice breaker games (what better way to get to know someone than to GET TO KNOW someone), and met 2 of my 4 suitemates (both very nice; both from a rather different cultural pool than the one from which I hail).

That was 2 days in one run-on sentence.  Not bad, if you ask me.

Tomorrow is the first real day of ulpan, so I'm going to try to get to bed before midnight, if possible.  I think I was placed in the highest level--good, I hope, for my Hebrew, but with the downside that it's a small class and I won't meet as many people.  I guess I'll have to find other ways!

Lila tov, all of you who had the patience to read through all of this :)

Sunrise Over Tel Aviv

Day one in Israel.
Not sure exactly how I feel yet, but the sunrise over the Mediterranean Sea, above the cloudline, was breathtaking.  That's two sunrises I've seen in one week (also my first two sunrises ever).  Got to be a record.
I ran around to the different Hutt cousins' houses this morning, wishing happy birthday to one (Daphi) before her birthday weekend getaway, dropping my suitcases off at another's (Tami's), and now I'm settled in at Nurit's (Mama Hutt) for the afternoon.  There's not much to do yet; I finished my book, checked my email, updated my Facebook status, and I think it should be lunchtime soon.  It's all I can do not to fall asleep--I've barely slept in the last few days (how many days, I can't really tell; the time difference is mighty confusing).
When I think about the months ahead, part of me wants to curl into a ball and dream myself back to Philadelphia.  I won't, obviously.  Not only is that impossible (The Wizard of Oz is wildly deceiving in that regard), but in spite of my current--predictable--anxieties, I know that good things are ahead.  I just need to get there.
The amount of Hebrew here is simultaneously exhilarating and paralyzing.  I love it--but it's scary being in a country by myself (relatively speaking--no pun in intended (ha)) that functions almost entirely in a language that's not my own.  I feel like I can kind of get lost here.  I won't, I know I'll manage--Mom, you can breathe now--but it'll take some getting used to.
Things I'm quickly learning/recalling:
1. Only in America can I get away with saying "Oy" to good news (e.g. "Oy, that's awesome!" "Oy, what a cute baby!").  Here, that's a jarring and mystifying oxymoron.
2. The big meal here is lunch.  I TOTALLY forgot about that and was not physically or mentally prepared to eat the feast Nurit had set out about an hour ago.  She said if I didn't eat it the last bits she'd toss the remainders, and I, being the good soul that I am, could not let those starving children in Africa down.  So I ate beyond my body's natural capacity, and now feel rather uncomfortable.  It's okay, though: it was all for the children in nearer-by Africa.
3. A "kaspomat" is actually a "kasfomat."  Go figure.
Going to a business party (or something?) tonight with the cousins instead of sleeping.  I might fall asleep on the dance floor.
Lehittt

P.S. I wrote different parts of this post at different times throughout the day, so if it seems chronologically off, you're not crazy (and neither am I).

Here we go...

Blog naming is a lot more trouble than people let on, but now that the damage has been done, I hope (for your sakes and mine) that it will prove to have been worth it.  

Six days till takeoff.

Items left to buy: several.

Bags left to pack: 2 (all).

People left to see: to tell you the truth, I can't remember them all.

Other things left to do: probably a million.

Some days I'm excited for this trip; other days I'm more nervous than anything else.  I'm excited for the language, the adventure, the feeling of freedom that Waltham has so often denied me, the new people I hope to meet.  I'm nervous for the language, the adventure, that feeling of freedom, the prospect of recreating my social life for the umpteenth time in recent years.  My perspective on these things changes with the hour; I just hope that when I step on that plane, a good hour will prevail and keep me sane, at least until I have a legitimate reason to worry.

For now, it's Target runs, the max number of American movies one can reasonably see in 6 days, goodbye visits, (sometimes) metaphorical pump-up music, and general mental prep.

I'm going abroadddd :)