I don't know much but I know I haven't written anything in a really long time. I'm growing weary of my routine and laziness. I am excited to work with NBC as a photographer, to photograph a wedding in April, to HOPEFULLY pick up some more photo work... but the lifestyle of a freelancer is so tough, and I'm so excited to embark, finally, on to this new optimistic looking path. And excited to share.
There's something about my energy around kids that is so remarkable. It's something I can't explain, but when I'm around a child, I'm lit up like a firecracker. Their curious eyes, funny ways of explaining the new world around them, their enthusiasm, it is a amazing thing and it sparks something in me.
Working on and off with kids my whole life has been great - but now I'm in the decision making process. Who or what do I want to teach? Do I want to teach young ones or pre-teens? Or run a day care? What age group? What about special education?
All of these things have run through my mind in the last couple months. Ever since I was visiting my cousins in Georgia for the holidays. I was so excited to meet their little ones. EVERY single relative was saying to me, why aren't you working with kids??? And a light bulb went on over my head. I've been consistently passionate about my love for working with children, why am I not doing something about this? Why have I not seen this before while struggling for the last 6 years to figure out who I am and what I will do??
Thanks to my roommate, I discovered Citizen Schools, an after school program for a low-income middle school. They require citizens, like me, to come in and teach a class... an "apprenticeship."
Tuesday I pitched a Photography apprenticeship to the students. The 6th graders will decide by the end of this week whether they want my class, or some other amazing volunteers class. I'll be teaching once a week for the next ten weeks. Starting Tuesday. I want to scream with excitement and I kind of also want to throw up. I'm a little nervous. Will teaching be my thing?? Will I succeed in inspiring kids in a classroom setting? We'll find out!
But what better way to discover than by doing?
Tomorrow morning I'm observing a special education class. Another roommate of mine told me her Mom is a special ed. teacher, and I was able to get in touch with her. She gave me support and resources for my questions in a heartbeat. I'm blown away by the doors opening for me to seek out the best way for me to go.
So stay tuned for this struggling photographer as she discovers another road on this incredible journey of her life.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Monday, June 6, 2011
Israel - 06.06.2011
Ventured to Sderot today. Got to see what it's like for students at Sapir College to study in bomb shelters while rockets from Gaza fall from the sky.
They joked around, a lively bunch. One girl commented that one time, when a siren went off, she ran to her nearby bomb shelter, but since she had been in the shower she showed up in just a towel, surrounded by cute guys and students she didn't know.
It was good to be on a college campus again, and these students live life to the fullest.
Who wants to live in fear anyway? I remember times that I told people I was traveling to volunteer in Israel, and they responded with, "Are you crazy? Aren't you scared??" And I always explained that I can't live life fearing the unknown. I could get hit by a car or bus in San Francisco any day of the week. If it's meant to be my time, it's meant to be.
That's what I appreciated about today. The students we spoke with had the same attitude. What's more, they had pride for the city of Sderot. This little city, with bomb shelters on every corner, playgrounds in bomb shelters, bus stops with bomb shelters. Qassams, or rockets, are kept at the local police station, hundreds of them stacked on these metal shelves like collector's items. Many are made out of pipes, car exhausts, or other random junk metal pieces, and you wonder what someone is thinking about when they’re creating rockets out of them… especially when they’re adding nails and other sharp objects to make a bigger impact when it falls on enemy land.
When rockets were flying back and forth between Sderot and Gaza a few years back, many people took their families and left. But many people stayed, feeling a sense of loyalty to this place, even at risk of trauma and death. That blows me away. Many times today I felt like I didn't understand this mentality - but when I think about it for a couple seconds, I can grasp some vague and strange concept of why. Maybe because I have been here for four months now and sometimes no longer feel like such a tourist??
Unfortunately for the students, there is no work in Sderot, so they're happy to go to school here, and they feel really strongly about the excellent education system at Sapir, but after graduation, it's time to find work elsewhere. One girl commented, if you want to help, sometimes you have to help yourself first. She wants to see Sderot developed just like any of the other students we spoke to.
From the top of one of the school buildings, there's a view of the Kibbutzim across the football field, also with bomb shelters on either side. One “Urban” Kibbutz was founded back in 1987, by this woman, Nomika, and 5 other visionaries who shared the goal of having dialogue with folks in Gaza, not war. They’re about 80 people today; half that number is their kids. Nomika shared with us in the recreation room of the Kibbutz stories that will be hard to forget. She is a different voice in Israel, one that is more humane and empathetic towards human beings in Gaza. She shared that when she was young, maybe 10, she made friends with a Moroccan girl, and they were very close. When the little girl came to visit her, however, local boys would run over to them, throwing stones and yelling racial slurs to the young Sephardic girl, chasing her back to Gaza. She never saw her again. It stayed with her, wondering how people could think they’re better than someone else.
She wrote an article a couple years ago, relating her compassion for peace and humanity to the masses. The article was translated into 20 languages, Nomika stated. She received responses from people all over the world, especially from Israeli’s who feel the same way about war and the treatment of other human beings, that it’s wrong, that there should be dialogue, and not death. It’s all about revenge now, not understanding.
There is so much hatred built up with this issue, such a wall, with Gaza and Israel, with Palestinians and Jews, that the ultimate goal, peace or something better, may never actually be seen. Ever… Ever? I don’t know. But today was one of the defining reasons why I came to Israel. I wanted to see how Israeli’s live in fear. They don’t live in fear. They LIVE.
They joked around, a lively bunch. One girl commented that one time, when a siren went off, she ran to her nearby bomb shelter, but since she had been in the shower she showed up in just a towel, surrounded by cute guys and students she didn't know.
It was good to be on a college campus again, and these students live life to the fullest.
Who wants to live in fear anyway? I remember times that I told people I was traveling to volunteer in Israel, and they responded with, "Are you crazy? Aren't you scared??" And I always explained that I can't live life fearing the unknown. I could get hit by a car or bus in San Francisco any day of the week. If it's meant to be my time, it's meant to be.
That's what I appreciated about today. The students we spoke with had the same attitude. What's more, they had pride for the city of Sderot. This little city, with bomb shelters on every corner, playgrounds in bomb shelters, bus stops with bomb shelters. Qassams, or rockets, are kept at the local police station, hundreds of them stacked on these metal shelves like collector's items. Many are made out of pipes, car exhausts, or other random junk metal pieces, and you wonder what someone is thinking about when they’re creating rockets out of them… especially when they’re adding nails and other sharp objects to make a bigger impact when it falls on enemy land.
When rockets were flying back and forth between Sderot and Gaza a few years back, many people took their families and left. But many people stayed, feeling a sense of loyalty to this place, even at risk of trauma and death. That blows me away. Many times today I felt like I didn't understand this mentality - but when I think about it for a couple seconds, I can grasp some vague and strange concept of why. Maybe because I have been here for four months now and sometimes no longer feel like such a tourist??
Unfortunately for the students, there is no work in Sderot, so they're happy to go to school here, and they feel really strongly about the excellent education system at Sapir, but after graduation, it's time to find work elsewhere. One girl commented, if you want to help, sometimes you have to help yourself first. She wants to see Sderot developed just like any of the other students we spoke to.
From the top of one of the school buildings, there's a view of the Kibbutzim across the football field, also with bomb shelters on either side. One “Urban” Kibbutz was founded back in 1987, by this woman, Nomika, and 5 other visionaries who shared the goal of having dialogue with folks in Gaza, not war. They’re about 80 people today; half that number is their kids. Nomika shared with us in the recreation room of the Kibbutz stories that will be hard to forget. She is a different voice in Israel, one that is more humane and empathetic towards human beings in Gaza. She shared that when she was young, maybe 10, she made friends with a Moroccan girl, and they were very close. When the little girl came to visit her, however, local boys would run over to them, throwing stones and yelling racial slurs to the young Sephardic girl, chasing her back to Gaza. She never saw her again. It stayed with her, wondering how people could think they’re better than someone else.
She wrote an article a couple years ago, relating her compassion for peace and humanity to the masses. The article was translated into 20 languages, Nomika stated. She received responses from people all over the world, especially from Israeli’s who feel the same way about war and the treatment of other human beings, that it’s wrong, that there should be dialogue, and not death. It’s all about revenge now, not understanding.
There is so much hatred built up with this issue, such a wall, with Gaza and Israel, with Palestinians and Jews, that the ultimate goal, peace or something better, may never actually be seen. Ever… Ever? I don’t know. But today was one of the defining reasons why I came to Israel. I wanted to see how Israeli’s live in fear. They don’t live in fear. They LIVE.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Israel - 05.30.2011
Okay, okay, so I SAID I would write a blog all the time and I don’t. You can yell at me all you want, but only as long as you understand what a busy bee I am out here in this crazy place. And if you know me at ALL, you know that I am nothing other than a busy bee.
Let’s see, updates… where do I start? One week before Passover I volunteered at a Refugee Pesach Sedar, held for anyone in the area who wanted to join us at Levinsky Park, right at the Takhana Merkazit. I got a chance to get on the microphone and read a portion of the Hagaddah. There I was, in front of hundreds of Africans, Israeli’s, and other human beings, all breaking matzah and sharing stories of struggles making it across Egypt and the Sinai to come to the Promise Land.
I sat down with a table full of young African men, who I soon found out didn’t speak much English after attempting to introduce myself. Although there was this one Sudanese kid, 23, named Samuel. He’s a line cook at a restaurant, who had arrived a few months ago, just like me. He had braved risks of being kidnapped, killed, and exploited, to come here and make money to help his brother, who owes something like $20,000.
It was such an opportunity for me to chat with him, someone I might never take a second glance at on any given day. As a white girl from America, I’m on high guard when I’m walking around this specific area. It’s not the safest of places. People arrive at this Central Bus Station from all over Israel and abroad who are desperate, poor, maybe abusing drugs like some homeless people do to get through the lonely nights, all while waiting for family, a friend, or the ARDC (African Refugee Development Center). They all sit and wait for something or someone at this park. But on this occasion I was making this kid a sedar plate, and for some time my guard was down. Amazing experience.
This is the so called Promise Land, and when the African Refugees - after all the turmoil they face just to come here - arrive, it’s even harder to live a civilian life here. Are they Jewish? If not, they would certainly get turned away at the border if they haven’t snuck in. Do they have a resource waiting for them here to give them a job? There’s something called a “binding contract.” If they find an employer, they can stay in Israel. BUT, if they want to leave that employer, they will be deported. Sad thing is, many of these employers are using Africans for cheap labor, and abuse them. It’s a sad situation. It’s something we learn about in discussions and lectures at our yeshiva, but solutions are still out of arms reach in Israel.
Another story: Passover for me was spent with Osher’s parents in Hebron, in the West Bank. Osher is a girl I met on Birthright, she is Israeli, studying Journalism and Communications at Sapir College in Sderot (next door to Gaza). Heading to the West Bank is like heading into feelings of trepidation that I have not experienced before. The bus is bullet proof with two panes of some poly plastic-like windows. The wall that shadows over the highway blocks a view of Bethlehem. This wall was recently built and protects drivers from being shot at. Military vehicles can be seen sporadically.
Spending time with Osher’s family for the Seder was just like my family’s; one of her brothers wanted to translate the text of the HaGadah and talk about the context, the other brother just wanted to eat already. The kids were running around the table causing mischief and looking for attention. Of course, being in an orthodox household, things were different. I’ve never burned khamutz! I’ve never spent the day after Passover intentionally ignoring electricity until sundown. Once, during this day of rest, forgot I wasn’t supposed to turn on the light switch and did so… quickly realizing what I had done and switched the light off again. No one saw this, except maybe God. I think I’ll be okay…
Final Update: I have a new bicycle. Okay, Jacob’s bicycle. Yes, I am now officially Tel Avivian. I take over the streets on my blue beach cruiser style bike, with, oh yes, a basket on the front. It’s nice to be able to sleep in a little bit more on early mornings of volunteer or ulpan, since my bike takes half the time of walking. A bonus is that it’s great exercise; what else is there? I just wish I could take it home with me!
Missing home like always, but I did extend my flight until the 18th of July.
Okay, I have plenty more to talk about, but I think this will suffice for now. xoxo
Let’s see, updates… where do I start? One week before Passover I volunteered at a Refugee Pesach Sedar, held for anyone in the area who wanted to join us at Levinsky Park, right at the Takhana Merkazit. I got a chance to get on the microphone and read a portion of the Hagaddah. There I was, in front of hundreds of Africans, Israeli’s, and other human beings, all breaking matzah and sharing stories of struggles making it across Egypt and the Sinai to come to the Promise Land.
I sat down with a table full of young African men, who I soon found out didn’t speak much English after attempting to introduce myself. Although there was this one Sudanese kid, 23, named Samuel. He’s a line cook at a restaurant, who had arrived a few months ago, just like me. He had braved risks of being kidnapped, killed, and exploited, to come here and make money to help his brother, who owes something like $20,000.
It was such an opportunity for me to chat with him, someone I might never take a second glance at on any given day. As a white girl from America, I’m on high guard when I’m walking around this specific area. It’s not the safest of places. People arrive at this Central Bus Station from all over Israel and abroad who are desperate, poor, maybe abusing drugs like some homeless people do to get through the lonely nights, all while waiting for family, a friend, or the ARDC (African Refugee Development Center). They all sit and wait for something or someone at this park. But on this occasion I was making this kid a sedar plate, and for some time my guard was down. Amazing experience.
This is the so called Promise Land, and when the African Refugees - after all the turmoil they face just to come here - arrive, it’s even harder to live a civilian life here. Are they Jewish? If not, they would certainly get turned away at the border if they haven’t snuck in. Do they have a resource waiting for them here to give them a job? There’s something called a “binding contract.” If they find an employer, they can stay in Israel. BUT, if they want to leave that employer, they will be deported. Sad thing is, many of these employers are using Africans for cheap labor, and abuse them. It’s a sad situation. It’s something we learn about in discussions and lectures at our yeshiva, but solutions are still out of arms reach in Israel.
Another story: Passover for me was spent with Osher’s parents in Hebron, in the West Bank. Osher is a girl I met on Birthright, she is Israeli, studying Journalism and Communications at Sapir College in Sderot (next door to Gaza). Heading to the West Bank is like heading into feelings of trepidation that I have not experienced before. The bus is bullet proof with two panes of some poly plastic-like windows. The wall that shadows over the highway blocks a view of Bethlehem. This wall was recently built and protects drivers from being shot at. Military vehicles can be seen sporadically.
Spending time with Osher’s family for the Seder was just like my family’s; one of her brothers wanted to translate the text of the HaGadah and talk about the context, the other brother just wanted to eat already. The kids were running around the table causing mischief and looking for attention. Of course, being in an orthodox household, things were different. I’ve never burned khamutz! I’ve never spent the day after Passover intentionally ignoring electricity until sundown. Once, during this day of rest, forgot I wasn’t supposed to turn on the light switch and did so… quickly realizing what I had done and switched the light off again. No one saw this, except maybe God. I think I’ll be okay…
Final Update: I have a new bicycle. Okay, Jacob’s bicycle. Yes, I am now officially Tel Avivian. I take over the streets on my blue beach cruiser style bike, with, oh yes, a basket on the front. It’s nice to be able to sleep in a little bit more on early mornings of volunteer or ulpan, since my bike takes half the time of walking. A bonus is that it’s great exercise; what else is there? I just wish I could take it home with me!
Missing home like always, but I did extend my flight until the 18th of July.
Okay, I have plenty more to talk about, but I think this will suffice for now. xoxo
Monday, March 28, 2011
Israel - 03.28.2011
Last Friday morning, early, after almost 4 hours of sleep, I took off from my home in southern Tel Aviv to embrace the unknown: traveling without the group and supervision, only my friend Melanie, to the Negev Desert. Be’er Sheva to be exact. What would be waiting for me would be a remarkable weekend working with Bedouins, and unforgettable experiences at what was called the Mud & Music Festival.
Melanie almost lost a hand holding the train door open. It was the wrong train we realized at the very second the doors were closing, and we barely managed to jump back to the platform at the HaHagana Train Station in central Tel Aviv. Here we are, holding our backbacks and sleeping bags, looking very American, surrounded by soldiers heading to their bases or maybe to see loved ones, laughing nervously at the thought of traveling around on our own. Once on the right train, we breathed a sigh of relief, although we still had to make sure we got off at the right stop. After successfully reaching the platform of Be’er Sheva Center Station, we refrained from patting ourselves on the back, as we still needed to find the 48 bus that would drop us off at a freeway bus stop in the middle of the desert. Now, we’re not as stupid as some locals around us were probably thinking, we were just fine – well, at finding the bus. There was still the matter of telling the bus driver in Hebrew to drop us 3 kilometers before the city of Dimona…
When we got off the bus, we looked around. Yep, we were at Qasr A Sir, the road entering the Bedouin Village. Scattering the dirt road in front of us was piles of garbage, run down shacks, and random barefooted children on rusty bikes, staring at us hike up the road. We waved, and they waved right back, looking curiously at us and our layers of belongings.
We arrived to see a good amount of people shoveling dirt, building a compostable outhouse, and more. We were served some tea, a staple of Bedouin life, asked to take a load off, and then grab a bucket. I was helping shovel dirt into these buckets which were brought to a circle of large sandbags. The goal of this unit was to become a dome, a communal hut if you will, for the Bedouins to use. There will be three total, I was told (But at the end of this weekend, as much as we completed, even one was an ambitious task!). Bedouins, Israeli’s and Americans alike, people from all over the world, were here to help out, and everyone was friendly, welcoming and interested in eco-building and sustainable living ideals.
At one point, I was cutting some rope. There were many kids running around, helping to shovel dirt into buckets with their little dirty bare hands. I tried to impress a couple of the kids by jumping rope. Then I look up, and I am surrounded by almost ten kids, and counting, as more come running over from who knows where! I taught them double dutch style jump rope, tug of war, and how to limbo for the next couple of hours.
For the rest of my weekend, when I wasn’t slinging mud on straw walls of half finished homes, or holding sandbags for people to poor dirt into, I was playing with these kids. They were so cute! They all loved the attention I gave them, showing me they can count to five in English, begging to use my small digital camera, and going crazy over my harmonica. I showed them how to make music with empty 2 liter soda bottles that you could find littered in ditches on sides of the road, and they let me hold their baby goats. It was amazing. They took some great photos of themselves, and were always shouting, “Ani!! Ani!!” (“Me! Me! As in, “my turn, my turn!”) And of course, always making the motions with their hands for more jump rope.
The night came and all the kids started to head home. Mimona, a very smart, sincere Bedouin girl, whom all the young kids looked up to, invited me to her home. I walked with her, a bit uncomfortable because I know her mother was not expecting me, and entered the front door. Her beautiful mother greeted me with a big smile, and after I explained that I was a volunteer from California, exclaimed, “We love America!!” She proceeded to guide me through her home, showing me every single room and pictures on the walls, even looking for any knickknacks that she could share with me. She and the girls seemed to share one room, the husband in another, the grandparents in another, it was a large home that was much more beautiful than I ever expected (except for the bathroom facilities, which pretty much is always just a hole in the ground...). It was a moment that I won’t forget for a long time; being invited inside and treated as if I was a movie star.
That night was also a great opportunity to really bond with the Bedouins, drink tea with them, eat with them, and even sleep next to them (we all shared a tent). Everyone brought their own veggies so everyone had this amazing communal meal of flattened pita, lentil soup with potatoes, salad with tomatoes, bell peppers, avocado, carrots, and more. We also had charcoaled pita, which we made from scratch and handed to the Bedouins, who rolled it around in a recently extinguished fire pit. Amazing.
I have been invited back to volunteer for three days and perhaps teach English to the kids for half a day, or maybe work with the Bedouin women, even just by simply being there and sharing positive energy.
I really can’t say enough how much I enjoyed helping out, and by looking around at their environment, and knowing what little I know about Bedouin society, it’s not an easy life. We made a big impact in their lives and I hope I will be returning soon for more experiences. Maybe I should bring more harmonicas…
Melanie almost lost a hand holding the train door open. It was the wrong train we realized at the very second the doors were closing, and we barely managed to jump back to the platform at the HaHagana Train Station in central Tel Aviv. Here we are, holding our backbacks and sleeping bags, looking very American, surrounded by soldiers heading to their bases or maybe to see loved ones, laughing nervously at the thought of traveling around on our own. Once on the right train, we breathed a sigh of relief, although we still had to make sure we got off at the right stop. After successfully reaching the platform of Be’er Sheva Center Station, we refrained from patting ourselves on the back, as we still needed to find the 48 bus that would drop us off at a freeway bus stop in the middle of the desert. Now, we’re not as stupid as some locals around us were probably thinking, we were just fine – well, at finding the bus. There was still the matter of telling the bus driver in Hebrew to drop us 3 kilometers before the city of Dimona…
When we got off the bus, we looked around. Yep, we were at Qasr A Sir, the road entering the Bedouin Village. Scattering the dirt road in front of us was piles of garbage, run down shacks, and random barefooted children on rusty bikes, staring at us hike up the road. We waved, and they waved right back, looking curiously at us and our layers of belongings.
We arrived to see a good amount of people shoveling dirt, building a compostable outhouse, and more. We were served some tea, a staple of Bedouin life, asked to take a load off, and then grab a bucket. I was helping shovel dirt into these buckets which were brought to a circle of large sandbags. The goal of this unit was to become a dome, a communal hut if you will, for the Bedouins to use. There will be three total, I was told (But at the end of this weekend, as much as we completed, even one was an ambitious task!). Bedouins, Israeli’s and Americans alike, people from all over the world, were here to help out, and everyone was friendly, welcoming and interested in eco-building and sustainable living ideals.
At one point, I was cutting some rope. There were many kids running around, helping to shovel dirt into buckets with their little dirty bare hands. I tried to impress a couple of the kids by jumping rope. Then I look up, and I am surrounded by almost ten kids, and counting, as more come running over from who knows where! I taught them double dutch style jump rope, tug of war, and how to limbo for the next couple of hours.
For the rest of my weekend, when I wasn’t slinging mud on straw walls of half finished homes, or holding sandbags for people to poor dirt into, I was playing with these kids. They were so cute! They all loved the attention I gave them, showing me they can count to five in English, begging to use my small digital camera, and going crazy over my harmonica. I showed them how to make music with empty 2 liter soda bottles that you could find littered in ditches on sides of the road, and they let me hold their baby goats. It was amazing. They took some great photos of themselves, and were always shouting, “Ani!! Ani!!” (“Me! Me! As in, “my turn, my turn!”) And of course, always making the motions with their hands for more jump rope.
The night came and all the kids started to head home. Mimona, a very smart, sincere Bedouin girl, whom all the young kids looked up to, invited me to her home. I walked with her, a bit uncomfortable because I know her mother was not expecting me, and entered the front door. Her beautiful mother greeted me with a big smile, and after I explained that I was a volunteer from California, exclaimed, “We love America!!” She proceeded to guide me through her home, showing me every single room and pictures on the walls, even looking for any knickknacks that she could share with me. She and the girls seemed to share one room, the husband in another, the grandparents in another, it was a large home that was much more beautiful than I ever expected (except for the bathroom facilities, which pretty much is always just a hole in the ground...). It was a moment that I won’t forget for a long time; being invited inside and treated as if I was a movie star.
That night was also a great opportunity to really bond with the Bedouins, drink tea with them, eat with them, and even sleep next to them (we all shared a tent). Everyone brought their own veggies so everyone had this amazing communal meal of flattened pita, lentil soup with potatoes, salad with tomatoes, bell peppers, avocado, carrots, and more. We also had charcoaled pita, which we made from scratch and handed to the Bedouins, who rolled it around in a recently extinguished fire pit. Amazing.
I have been invited back to volunteer for three days and perhaps teach English to the kids for half a day, or maybe work with the Bedouin women, even just by simply being there and sharing positive energy.
I really can’t say enough how much I enjoyed helping out, and by looking around at their environment, and knowing what little I know about Bedouin society, it’s not an easy life. We made a big impact in their lives and I hope I will be returning soon for more experiences. Maybe I should bring more harmonicas…
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Israel - 03.22.2011
This past week has been very fulfilling for me! Last weekend the group traveled to the Negev Desert, where we set up sleeping bags under Bedouin tents, made pita from scratch, and learned to make poikey. That night I smoked hookah with two Bedouin muslims. One was 25 years old, named Solomon. I learned that he had 2 wives and 6 kids. His wives don’t like each other apparently, which he seemed okay with. They fight over me, he said with a subtle, satisfied smile. He’s a modern Bedouin, making money working at these tents made for tourists like me. He prays 5 times a day, but on his own time, none of that call-to-prayer tradition for him. And he probably does this in his Ed Hardy sweatshirt.
The next day we hiked Makhtesh Ramon Crater. For five hours. It was challenging, even difficult for most people, as there were steep inclines and scary descents on more than one occasion. I honestly loved it. I felt the burn for sure, but the result was worth it. The views were breathtaking, & the geological nature of the crater was mind blowing. I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, but I can imagine this is what it would be like to hike through it. Except for the billion year old fossils of sea life you find along the way.
Volunteering has been really rewarding this week. Etgarim is fun, although a nerve racking experience. There’s not much instruction, it’s fair to say you’re left to find your way and figure it out as you go. It’s hard, for instance, to tell Ronnie, on his hybrid bike, to watch out for other people. I can’t remember how to say it in Hebrew when I’m feeling panicked. The other day I’m there I work with a different group of kids, including 8 year old, Hannah, who is autistic. She’s so sweet but she really doesn’t even communicate with words at all. Mostly I read her face, like her eyes, or her excitability level. I have brought one awesome skill with me to the table; my enthusiasm and energy. I cheer the kids on while we’re all en route, riding along the coast on bike paths, telling them “metsuyan!” or “tov me’od!” ("excellent!" or "very good!")Even though it’s scary to have their general safety in my hands, there are some things I guess you can just do on your own.
Mesila was fun last week for the toddlers. Melanie and I noticed these kids had like, NO toys. We took time to go shopping and brought some balloons. It was a huge hit. Since every kid was allowed a balloon, no one had to fight over who got to play with it first. Sharing is not an option for these kids... Another nice thing is that they’re slowly catching on to my routine song, “Head, Shoulders, Knees, & Toes.” They like the moves to that song anyway. It’s a very sad place. This one child kept begging to be held, over and over, and I finally realized he was pretty delirious, as in sick. I picked him up and he immediately fell asleep in my arms. He’s from Sudan or Areatrea, no more than 3 years old. His parents cannot afford to stay at home and take of the poor little guy. It’s a hard life for these kids. I can only go 2 hours a week according to this program, and it’s honestly not enough time for me, but it takes your EVERYTHING to be there, especially when there’s 20 other toddlers tugging at your clothes, wanting to play with you, and wanting to be held as well.
Omanoot is very cool so far, since my first assignment was to photograph a band at a cool venue called the Barbi Club. Next, more photos, as well as helping create a more visual look for their site, but all in due time.
The Blind Center has been really great. I started teaching a yoga class for senior citizens on Thursdays. It’s easier than I thought it would be, although one of the staff members had to take it too so she could translate everything for my "students." They are not only blind, they also barely speak English! This last Sunday they created a Purim party for all their members and volunteers. Not only did I set up food and drinks, but plated the food for members as well. Not usually a big deal, but I don’t know all the vocabulary yet for food, and I have to explain to them what the options are for them to eat! It was pretty funny. I was good at naming drinks at least. I'm noticing understanding Hebrew spoken back to me is also very difficult… Interesting situation! They really like me though (once again, energy goes a long way), and now some want me to teach them English. Love it!
Purim was insane here in Israel. Now, I have celebrated Halloween in the Castro in San Francisco, but I think even that comes to a close second on the party scale when it comes to Purim in Tel Aviv… I dressed up as a thought bubble. I wore all white, white long sleeve shirt, white skirt, white leggings, bought some bubbles, fabric markers, and walked around asking everyone to write their thoughts on me. It was creative and fun! Made for a great souvenir to bring home. Many of my friends and I started on Thursday night at an Etgarim dance party, which was really, really fun. Even little Ronnie was there, and we danced the night away. Friday during the day I went to a street party, then at night we went out to Florentine, the trendy, popular district within walking distance from our apartments. Then Saturday we just started all over again. Some of us went to the beach to hang for the day, and then came home to change back into costume and start the drinking again! Loving this holiday... On Sunday it was Ma’ayan’s birthday, so we all had a lovely pot luck dinner at our house, where I made Israeli salad and tabouleh for my first time. Everyone brought some amazing food, it was a feast and a great party.
I want to write more, but that is the last week in a nut shell, and I’m exhausted from running around. Keep your eyes on my Picassa for photos, and also on Facebook.
Missing everyone back home.
The next day we hiked Makhtesh Ramon Crater. For five hours. It was challenging, even difficult for most people, as there were steep inclines and scary descents on more than one occasion. I honestly loved it. I felt the burn for sure, but the result was worth it. The views were breathtaking, & the geological nature of the crater was mind blowing. I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, but I can imagine this is what it would be like to hike through it. Except for the billion year old fossils of sea life you find along the way.
Volunteering has been really rewarding this week. Etgarim is fun, although a nerve racking experience. There’s not much instruction, it’s fair to say you’re left to find your way and figure it out as you go. It’s hard, for instance, to tell Ronnie, on his hybrid bike, to watch out for other people. I can’t remember how to say it in Hebrew when I’m feeling panicked. The other day I’m there I work with a different group of kids, including 8 year old, Hannah, who is autistic. She’s so sweet but she really doesn’t even communicate with words at all. Mostly I read her face, like her eyes, or her excitability level. I have brought one awesome skill with me to the table; my enthusiasm and energy. I cheer the kids on while we’re all en route, riding along the coast on bike paths, telling them “metsuyan!” or “tov me’od!” ("excellent!" or "very good!")Even though it’s scary to have their general safety in my hands, there are some things I guess you can just do on your own.
Mesila was fun last week for the toddlers. Melanie and I noticed these kids had like, NO toys. We took time to go shopping and brought some balloons. It was a huge hit. Since every kid was allowed a balloon, no one had to fight over who got to play with it first. Sharing is not an option for these kids... Another nice thing is that they’re slowly catching on to my routine song, “Head, Shoulders, Knees, & Toes.” They like the moves to that song anyway. It’s a very sad place. This one child kept begging to be held, over and over, and I finally realized he was pretty delirious, as in sick. I picked him up and he immediately fell asleep in my arms. He’s from Sudan or Areatrea, no more than 3 years old. His parents cannot afford to stay at home and take of the poor little guy. It’s a hard life for these kids. I can only go 2 hours a week according to this program, and it’s honestly not enough time for me, but it takes your EVERYTHING to be there, especially when there’s 20 other toddlers tugging at your clothes, wanting to play with you, and wanting to be held as well.
Omanoot is very cool so far, since my first assignment was to photograph a band at a cool venue called the Barbi Club. Next, more photos, as well as helping create a more visual look for their site, but all in due time.
The Blind Center has been really great. I started teaching a yoga class for senior citizens on Thursdays. It’s easier than I thought it would be, although one of the staff members had to take it too so she could translate everything for my "students." They are not only blind, they also barely speak English! This last Sunday they created a Purim party for all their members and volunteers. Not only did I set up food and drinks, but plated the food for members as well. Not usually a big deal, but I don’t know all the vocabulary yet for food, and I have to explain to them what the options are for them to eat! It was pretty funny. I was good at naming drinks at least. I'm noticing understanding Hebrew spoken back to me is also very difficult… Interesting situation! They really like me though (once again, energy goes a long way), and now some want me to teach them English. Love it!
Purim was insane here in Israel. Now, I have celebrated Halloween in the Castro in San Francisco, but I think even that comes to a close second on the party scale when it comes to Purim in Tel Aviv… I dressed up as a thought bubble. I wore all white, white long sleeve shirt, white skirt, white leggings, bought some bubbles, fabric markers, and walked around asking everyone to write their thoughts on me. It was creative and fun! Made for a great souvenir to bring home. Many of my friends and I started on Thursday night at an Etgarim dance party, which was really, really fun. Even little Ronnie was there, and we danced the night away. Friday during the day I went to a street party, then at night we went out to Florentine, the trendy, popular district within walking distance from our apartments. Then Saturday we just started all over again. Some of us went to the beach to hang for the day, and then came home to change back into costume and start the drinking again! Loving this holiday... On Sunday it was Ma’ayan’s birthday, so we all had a lovely pot luck dinner at our house, where I made Israeli salad and tabouleh for my first time. Everyone brought some amazing food, it was a feast and a great party.
I want to write more, but that is the last week in a nut shell, and I’m exhausted from running around. Keep your eyes on my Picassa for photos, and also on Facebook.
Missing everyone back home.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Israel - 03.01.2011
I bet you’re all awake at night wondering about my life here in Tel Aviv. Nothing that newsworthy happened the week before I went to Jerusalem, so I decided to just take some time and wait until some good material came about to share with you all.
Jerusalem was great. Jacob and I hitched a ride with his boss for the 45 minute journey towards the Old City. We were dropped off at a street with one of Jacob’s favorite places to get a “memulawak. It’s just a heavenly flaky dough wrap filled with Tahini, hummus, labaney cheese, tomato paste, egg, zatar spice... Jacob called it an appetizer, but I call it lunch AND dinner, the way it was so filling!
We walked over to “Fresh’s” place (Jacob’s cousin), where I met him & his girlfriend Sunny, from Russia, and roommate Yaron. They had a sweet but dumb cat named ShuShu, who had jumped out the 3rd story window awhile back. I also met their sweet dog named “Yuki,” who they were watching for their friend serving in the IDF. They were making sushi for dinner, it was ta’im me’od (very tasty). I asked if they made Shabbat dinner every Friday, and they told me they were atheist. I thought that was amusing, that I was in Jerusalem, eating Japanese on Shabbat with “atheist” Jews.
They had a bunch of people over that night, bringing not only good company but some licorice-esque hard liquor called Arak and After Shock. At first I was surrounded by people speaking Hebrew. Fresh occasionally called out loud, “Speak English!” I didn’t understand a single conversation around me! It was really funny, and a very unique experience. After a short time their attention turned to me, and everyone wanted to practice their English and find out about my life, and vice versa. It was a really cool night.
The next day we slept in, which seems rare for me these days, and it was fantastic to get some real sleep on the Jewish Day of Rest. When we were ready to take on the day, we wandered over to the Old City, literally a 5 minute walk away. On the way, we went down Mamila Street. Apparently, a long time ago, the building was to be moved over, and they wanted to make sure it was completely replicated, so they numbered every single brick, which you can see clearly. There’s also an art exhibit down this street, and this day (it alternates every couple weeks to new art) had sculptures featuring biblical characters. It was very impressive.
We walked to an extremely busy restaurant called Lina, which looked less than appealing outside, but served the best hummus and Tahini in Jerusalem, according to the locals. I now fully agree. I felt almost stoned after this meal it was so heavy, as is a lot of Israeli food, and we strolled up and down the corridors digesting, checking out the vendors and just taking our time and listening to the sounds and taking in the sites of the Dome Of The Rock and the like. It was great to not be hustled around by a guide or a group.
Great weekend get away….
This week has been pretty crazy because we’re gearing up to start volunteering. I start tomorrow!! I’m so excited. I am ready for some routine in my life, although I rarely say that. I was in the Takhana Merkazit (Central Bus Station) yesterday, looking to buy myself a weekly planner, and maybe some new, cheap sunglasses since mine just broke on me. But as I wandered around aimlessly, I started to feel claustrophobic, panicky, and agitated. People shove by you to get around this place, which is like a hectic mall, where dance music is blasting out of every store, and you get first hand Israeli attitude, which is to be rude and with no respect for personal space, and more often than not they don’t speak your language, or don’t want to. I had just had it! I never felt scared, really, just overwhelmed and frustrated. It was a hurdle that I had to overcome that day. A reality that this will not be the last time I have to endure.
On the upside, we went to “Dialogue in the Dark” that night as a group. It is a Blind Museum, where you feel your way through the dark, led by a blind or visually impaired person. One of my volunteering places will be at the Blind Center, so this experience was one I was really looking forward to. It was incredible. Our leader, Sadiot, was cheeky and mischievous, and led us through a maze in complete darkness. Every room was a different setting, and all you can do is use your other senses to get around. Following his voice into the maze, we “traveled” to different aspects of daily life, such as smelling the fruits at the shuk, walking along a city street with cars honking, sitting in a buoyed motor boat, feeling the wind on our faces and the current taking us. There was a music room, and at the end a café with a bartender, who you could hear leave the bar to play the piano and sing (with an incredible voice). It was truly enlightening. I am really excited to work with blind people. I have never worked with anyone who’s had to strictly use other senses or abilities to get around.
After experiencing Dialogue in the Dark, I feel so petty when I recall my panic attack in the bus station. I am so lucky to have my vision, to have my senses (including common sense) to get me around. So now I optimistically look to the immediate future, as in tomorrow, to dedicate myself to helping people who need me to guide and assist them in their life. And I really believe they will help me, too.
Tomorrow night I start at Etgarim. Etgarim is a program designed to help kids and young adults with certain disabilities learn how to ride a bike. Many times I will be riding a tandem bike, with me on the front seat, and a youngster on the back seat. There are also special bikes that look like a hybrid of a go-kart and a tricycle. Those you pedal with your hands, in such cases where you don’t have the use of your legs. I will be riding alongside the kids using these as well. I am thrilled to start. I wonder how it will be with a language barrier…?
Stay tuned for more stories and information about my other volunteer places, the Blind Center, Mesila, and Omanoot soon!
Jerusalem was great. Jacob and I hitched a ride with his boss for the 45 minute journey towards the Old City. We were dropped off at a street with one of Jacob’s favorite places to get a “memulawak. It’s just a heavenly flaky dough wrap filled with Tahini, hummus, labaney cheese, tomato paste, egg, zatar spice... Jacob called it an appetizer, but I call it lunch AND dinner, the way it was so filling!
We walked over to “Fresh’s” place (Jacob’s cousin), where I met him & his girlfriend Sunny, from Russia, and roommate Yaron. They had a sweet but dumb cat named ShuShu, who had jumped out the 3rd story window awhile back. I also met their sweet dog named “Yuki,” who they were watching for their friend serving in the IDF. They were making sushi for dinner, it was ta’im me’od (very tasty). I asked if they made Shabbat dinner every Friday, and they told me they were atheist. I thought that was amusing, that I was in Jerusalem, eating Japanese on Shabbat with “atheist” Jews.
They had a bunch of people over that night, bringing not only good company but some licorice-esque hard liquor called Arak and After Shock. At first I was surrounded by people speaking Hebrew. Fresh occasionally called out loud, “Speak English!” I didn’t understand a single conversation around me! It was really funny, and a very unique experience. After a short time their attention turned to me, and everyone wanted to practice their English and find out about my life, and vice versa. It was a really cool night.
The next day we slept in, which seems rare for me these days, and it was fantastic to get some real sleep on the Jewish Day of Rest. When we were ready to take on the day, we wandered over to the Old City, literally a 5 minute walk away. On the way, we went down Mamila Street. Apparently, a long time ago, the building was to be moved over, and they wanted to make sure it was completely replicated, so they numbered every single brick, which you can see clearly. There’s also an art exhibit down this street, and this day (it alternates every couple weeks to new art) had sculptures featuring biblical characters. It was very impressive.
We walked to an extremely busy restaurant called Lina, which looked less than appealing outside, but served the best hummus and Tahini in Jerusalem, according to the locals. I now fully agree. I felt almost stoned after this meal it was so heavy, as is a lot of Israeli food, and we strolled up and down the corridors digesting, checking out the vendors and just taking our time and listening to the sounds and taking in the sites of the Dome Of The Rock and the like. It was great to not be hustled around by a guide or a group.
Great weekend get away….
This week has been pretty crazy because we’re gearing up to start volunteering. I start tomorrow!! I’m so excited. I am ready for some routine in my life, although I rarely say that. I was in the Takhana Merkazit (Central Bus Station) yesterday, looking to buy myself a weekly planner, and maybe some new, cheap sunglasses since mine just broke on me. But as I wandered around aimlessly, I started to feel claustrophobic, panicky, and agitated. People shove by you to get around this place, which is like a hectic mall, where dance music is blasting out of every store, and you get first hand Israeli attitude, which is to be rude and with no respect for personal space, and more often than not they don’t speak your language, or don’t want to. I had just had it! I never felt scared, really, just overwhelmed and frustrated. It was a hurdle that I had to overcome that day. A reality that this will not be the last time I have to endure.
On the upside, we went to “Dialogue in the Dark” that night as a group. It is a Blind Museum, where you feel your way through the dark, led by a blind or visually impaired person. One of my volunteering places will be at the Blind Center, so this experience was one I was really looking forward to. It was incredible. Our leader, Sadiot, was cheeky and mischievous, and led us through a maze in complete darkness. Every room was a different setting, and all you can do is use your other senses to get around. Following his voice into the maze, we “traveled” to different aspects of daily life, such as smelling the fruits at the shuk, walking along a city street with cars honking, sitting in a buoyed motor boat, feeling the wind on our faces and the current taking us. There was a music room, and at the end a café with a bartender, who you could hear leave the bar to play the piano and sing (with an incredible voice). It was truly enlightening. I am really excited to work with blind people. I have never worked with anyone who’s had to strictly use other senses or abilities to get around.
After experiencing Dialogue in the Dark, I feel so petty when I recall my panic attack in the bus station. I am so lucky to have my vision, to have my senses (including common sense) to get me around. So now I optimistically look to the immediate future, as in tomorrow, to dedicate myself to helping people who need me to guide and assist them in their life. And I really believe they will help me, too.
Tomorrow night I start at Etgarim. Etgarim is a program designed to help kids and young adults with certain disabilities learn how to ride a bike. Many times I will be riding a tandem bike, with me on the front seat, and a youngster on the back seat. There are also special bikes that look like a hybrid of a go-kart and a tricycle. Those you pedal with your hands, in such cases where you don’t have the use of your legs. I will be riding alongside the kids using these as well. I am thrilled to start. I wonder how it will be with a language barrier…?
Stay tuned for more stories and information about my other volunteer places, the Blind Center, Mesila, and Omanoot soon!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Israel - 02.15.2011
February 15, 2011
I have now been living in Israel for a total of about three days. I am already diving into my experiences head first, and loving every minute of this so far.
Coming back from the lovely, peaceful kibbutz into the city of Tel Aviv was bizarre. I am used to living in a city so it felt really familiar, like coming back from the countryside into the hustle of this jungle of a city. But it was also very strange. I was not yet settled into any apartment, and I had no idea where I was geographically. We had to rely on our guides to escort my group of new roommates and me to our new place.
Our new apartments were just that; new. So dust was scattered around the common areas, the washing machines were not set up, oven didn’t work, no internet, pieces missing from some Ikea furniture in some of the rooms. It was baligon (crazy.) Things are slowly improving, but what can you do? Kacha, ma la'asot!
The bathrooms are the funniest thing. There is no separate shower area. There is no divider along the floor to keep shower water in a contained area. So when you’re done showering, you take a squeegee broom and sweep the water to the drain. And if you forget to turn on the boiler about 5 – 10 minutes before a shower, you will not have hot water for quite awhile!
Our neighborhood is really traditional, modest and fascinating. On many warm nights (thank you, winter in Tel Aviv!) you can see a ton of bats flying through the trees around the park across the street. They pop up in the warm glow of the street lights and it’s very eerie! There are stray cats everywhere, jumping out of garbage bins as you walk by. I jump, startled, 5 feet in the air every time! There is a peacock living around the parks in Kiryat Shalom (the specific neighborhood I’m residing in), that crows all the time.
I have begun touring different volunteer places and I’m getting really excited to start my service. “Omanoot” (art, be-ivrit) was really cool. It’s a young non-profit grassroots organization whose focus is to reveal the cultural, educational, and diplomatic power of Israeli art. They have what’s like an Israeli YouTube, where you can watch documentary films and learn about events, music, and arts. They are trying to create a substantial online community, and need people like me to create multi-media and blogs, interviewing artists in the community for press releases and the like. One of the perks would be to cover events around the city for free.
Tomorrow is a little more intense. I will be touring “Mesila,” which assists migrant workers who live in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, who have families and young children. There are many toddlers and young children who come to this unrecognized kindergarten, as in like, up to 40, and they are not getting the affection, nurturing, and stimulation they need to develop. There’s just not enough supervision. You have to work in pairs, and you’re only allowed to work for two hours a day, once a week. It is THAT draining. I’m very anxious to see what this is all about and see if it’s right for me.
There are seven other places I am checking out, so stay tuned for more of that.
One thing I want to touch on is that I am picking up a TON of broken, conversational Hebrew that has been helping me get around the city. Well, for the most part. Sometimes people look at you and say, “Just speak English!” But I still speak every single Hebrew word I know and always try my hardest, and people really do appreciate it. I’ve had ONE class so far, but friends from the group comment that I am picking it up really fast. Also, they comment that every time I speak any Hebrew in public I get this ridiculously huge smile on my face from being excited.
Yesterday I shopped for groceries for the first time and it was hilarious. EVERYTHING is in Hebrew. Great story: I was standing in front of a huge display of bread. There was every kind of bread, EVER, with all their packaging covered in Hebrew print. And I just stood there, looking up at all these loaves of bread, and started cracking up. I grabbed the loaf closest resembling wheat and carried on, browsing through rows of cheeses that all look the same, and soy milk that was only differentiated by random color coding. I have never felt more out of my element, and it was a GREAT experience.
One more thing I want to touch on is how well I am making my way around. I am very impressed with myself, and have really proved that I am very capable. For example, today I was hanging out with one of my friends at his house for awhile, and needed to start heading home to change for the evening festivities. Our apartment is only about a 30 minute walk away. I loaned my map to a girlfriend the night before so I didn’t have one on me, but grabbed directions and took off by myself. I was a bit scared, totally alone, and it was dusk. There were times I was unsure if I had gone too far, or not far enough, however I made it to my street with no real problem! I did ask where a street was at one point, but the guy didn’t speak any English, and my Hebrew isn’t good enough for non-English speakers to really communicate yet. But I pressed on, used some good old fashion intuition and was just fine! I even stopped in a flower shop on the way and bought some for my friend (today’s her birthday).
Although everything is still very different and overwhelming, I’m doing great. Just learning to take deep breaths, and if you know me, you know that is a good sign.
Tonight the group is going out for Evin’s birthday. Can’t wait to see what the night has in store! We all need a drink and to release some energy, I can tell it might be “baligon!!”
Miss you!
I have now been living in Israel for a total of about three days. I am already diving into my experiences head first, and loving every minute of this so far.
Coming back from the lovely, peaceful kibbutz into the city of Tel Aviv was bizarre. I am used to living in a city so it felt really familiar, like coming back from the countryside into the hustle of this jungle of a city. But it was also very strange. I was not yet settled into any apartment, and I had no idea where I was geographically. We had to rely on our guides to escort my group of new roommates and me to our new place.
Our new apartments were just that; new. So dust was scattered around the common areas, the washing machines were not set up, oven didn’t work, no internet, pieces missing from some Ikea furniture in some of the rooms. It was baligon (crazy.) Things are slowly improving, but what can you do? Kacha, ma la'asot!
The bathrooms are the funniest thing. There is no separate shower area. There is no divider along the floor to keep shower water in a contained area. So when you’re done showering, you take a squeegee broom and sweep the water to the drain. And if you forget to turn on the boiler about 5 – 10 minutes before a shower, you will not have hot water for quite awhile!
Our neighborhood is really traditional, modest and fascinating. On many warm nights (thank you, winter in Tel Aviv!) you can see a ton of bats flying through the trees around the park across the street. They pop up in the warm glow of the street lights and it’s very eerie! There are stray cats everywhere, jumping out of garbage bins as you walk by. I jump, startled, 5 feet in the air every time! There is a peacock living around the parks in Kiryat Shalom (the specific neighborhood I’m residing in), that crows all the time.
I have begun touring different volunteer places and I’m getting really excited to start my service. “Omanoot” (art, be-ivrit) was really cool. It’s a young non-profit grassroots organization whose focus is to reveal the cultural, educational, and diplomatic power of Israeli art. They have what’s like an Israeli YouTube, where you can watch documentary films and learn about events, music, and arts. They are trying to create a substantial online community, and need people like me to create multi-media and blogs, interviewing artists in the community for press releases and the like. One of the perks would be to cover events around the city for free.
Tomorrow is a little more intense. I will be touring “Mesila,” which assists migrant workers who live in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, who have families and young children. There are many toddlers and young children who come to this unrecognized kindergarten, as in like, up to 40, and they are not getting the affection, nurturing, and stimulation they need to develop. There’s just not enough supervision. You have to work in pairs, and you’re only allowed to work for two hours a day, once a week. It is THAT draining. I’m very anxious to see what this is all about and see if it’s right for me.
There are seven other places I am checking out, so stay tuned for more of that.
One thing I want to touch on is that I am picking up a TON of broken, conversational Hebrew that has been helping me get around the city. Well, for the most part. Sometimes people look at you and say, “Just speak English!” But I still speak every single Hebrew word I know and always try my hardest, and people really do appreciate it. I’ve had ONE class so far, but friends from the group comment that I am picking it up really fast. Also, they comment that every time I speak any Hebrew in public I get this ridiculously huge smile on my face from being excited.
Yesterday I shopped for groceries for the first time and it was hilarious. EVERYTHING is in Hebrew. Great story: I was standing in front of a huge display of bread. There was every kind of bread, EVER, with all their packaging covered in Hebrew print. And I just stood there, looking up at all these loaves of bread, and started cracking up. I grabbed the loaf closest resembling wheat and carried on, browsing through rows of cheeses that all look the same, and soy milk that was only differentiated by random color coding. I have never felt more out of my element, and it was a GREAT experience.
One more thing I want to touch on is how well I am making my way around. I am very impressed with myself, and have really proved that I am very capable. For example, today I was hanging out with one of my friends at his house for awhile, and needed to start heading home to change for the evening festivities. Our apartment is only about a 30 minute walk away. I loaned my map to a girlfriend the night before so I didn’t have one on me, but grabbed directions and took off by myself. I was a bit scared, totally alone, and it was dusk. There were times I was unsure if I had gone too far, or not far enough, however I made it to my street with no real problem! I did ask where a street was at one point, but the guy didn’t speak any English, and my Hebrew isn’t good enough for non-English speakers to really communicate yet. But I pressed on, used some good old fashion intuition and was just fine! I even stopped in a flower shop on the way and bought some for my friend (today’s her birthday).
Although everything is still very different and overwhelming, I’m doing great. Just learning to take deep breaths, and if you know me, you know that is a good sign.
Tonight the group is going out for Evin’s birthday. Can’t wait to see what the night has in store! We all need a drink and to release some energy, I can tell it might be “baligon!!”
Miss you!
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