Category: Israel

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And today was a day unlike any other…

A place you never thought you would go.

It’s not like you didn’t want to go there, but you just hadn’t thought of going. We all have one. Well, I used to, anyways.

Let’s step back a bit. I’ve said before how easy Tel Aviv was to manage. Almost everyone speaks English, and the city generally has a friendly manageable feel to it. Renting a car is a relatively easy thing, too. Especially if you have a friend like Vered who can give you the lowdown.

I grabbed a car from Budget, one of the many car rental agencies in the city, since they had a return option to drop the car off at Ben-Gurion airport, and blazed a trail for Vered’s apartment. I managed to weave through the spaghetti track of streets surrounding her flat and only anger one carload of people in the process of picking her up. Apparently, I have hutzpah.

We got out of the city as quick as possible to grab the ever-dazzling Dana before we made for our true objective; the Dead Sea!

The drive was easy peezy and the landscape across Israel is as varied as any I have seen; mountains, farms, dense near-jungle, and expansive desert. We hit a convenience store on the way to pick up some snacks and cats.

Yes, it really is.

Before too long we were pulling up at the souther beachhead of the famed Dead SEA! I was about to find out what all the fuss was about… and there had been a fuss. Since my arrival, everyone I met asked me if I had been to the Dead Sea yet. When I said no, I was often met with surprise or mock outrage. It’s kind of a big deal.

This place was a blast.

You simply cannot sink! Unfortunately for our camera shenanigans, my Olympus camera didn’t agree with the high salt content of the water and promptly stopped working until we could get out of the water and clean it up. Then we promptly began misbehaving.

One thing to note; this is a touristy destination. As such, things are tourist prices. If you can, bring your own water and snacks, because if you buy them at the shore, you’ll be paying more than you bargained for.

The beach was peppered with visitors. At least half of them were local Arabs. I was able to discern this because the women were covered head to toe; they even wore their shoes. While I and most of the beach were running around, jumping in the water, and rolling in the mud, these women were squatting on the shore, dipping their hands in the water and rubbing the mud between their fingers. It was a little surreal.

This much salt and heat and fun and sun can get exhausting. It’s hard having this much playtime. Eventually, we just sat in our sun chairs and made less sense and more faces as the day wore on.

Finally, after the 100th attempt at conversation by the strangely androgynous boys wandering around the beach, we decided we had had enough heat stroke and packed up the car to head back to something like reality.

It was Friday. In Israel, that means Shabat. And as this was the first weekend of Hanukah, it meant just a little more. Further proof that I am indeed one of the luckiest humans ever to walk this planet; I was invited to spend the evening with Dana and her family.

I am not Jewish. I have had little to no exposure to the religion, other than reading a couple (mostly historical) books about the religion. I haven’t even read the Bible all the way through. That doesn’t mean that any of the magic of the night was lost on this non-believer.

At that time, there was a huge fire running through the forests of Israel. Dana’s family was truly concerned and kept watching the television for updates throughout the night. One of Dana’s coworkers was already killed in the fire. Dana and her cousin, Noar, had to relay all this to me because her parents spoke no English at all.

That doesn’t mean her parents and I didn’t communicate; it just means there was more sign language and smiling than actual nouns and verbs.

The weight of the day added something of a reverence and sincerity to the evening. The table was covered with food. The food was covered with prayer. The family took turns reading from the Torah. There was even singing, though I couldn’t understand a word. It was beautiful.

At the close of the evening, I still had many miles to go before I reached the little town of Tel Aviv. Dana gave me her best directions and I made it part way before I had to stop and ask Vered for more help.

Driving through a foreign country at night by yourself is pretty cool if you don’t care where you are going. If you actually have to make it somewhere, it becomes a bit more of a mission. Finally, with the ceaseless help of my two companions and a few street signs, I made it back to Tel Aviv and my hotel.

I was wrung out. After a huge day of hundreds of kilometers and endless adventure I made it to bed and slept like I’d been blackjacked.

Every day of this trip has been different. So many mornings I awake with no idea what the day will bring. This was a day unlike any other.

When I tried to sink, I was buoyed up. When I got lost, friends old and new were there to help. When I was hungry I was taken in, fed, and treated like I belonged there.

There are places we never thought we would go. There are things we never thought of doing. This doesn’t mean we have to do it, but if we do, the people we do it with will make all the difference.

All the difference...

Wrap Up:

You can visit the Dead Sea quite simply with a tour group. Just ask your hotel.

If you want to rent a car, there are plenty of agencies, but you can’t return the car on Saturday unless it is at the airport.

For less than 3 days rental, you are limited to how many kilometers you can drive. Be sure you know.

Life is better with friends; make some.

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Viva Tel Aviv!

While I was traveling in South America, I seemed to be continually running across groups of people from Israel. I knew little to nothing about the country, nor did I gain a true understanding it through these encounters. I did learn that Israel has compulsory military service, and most of the guys from Israel really know how to cook!

Yes, it's a smile.

In Argentina, I got lucky and made friends with two magnificent Israeli girls. Their world-class personalities, great smiles, and wonderful laughs got me thinking that I might like to go visit them someday.

Luckily, I got the opportunity to volunteer with the IDF, which brought me to Israel. Even in the military, you get the weekend to yourself, which brought me to Tel Aviv.

Like most of the foreigners who come to Tel Aviv, I was told about the two major Expat bars: Molly Bloom’s and Mike’s Place. They didn’t really appeal to me, Mike’s place was bombed a few years ago, so I called up Zizi and asked where the party was at. She gave me some cross streets and a time to be there, and I got prepped.

For those who don’t know, Friday is the sabbath for Israel, meaning nothing happens. That makes Thursday night something of a party night. Or, in this case, quite a bit of a party night.

Beit Oded, the army hostel I was staying at, closed their doors at midnight and did not open them again until 6 a.m. Midnight came and went, which meant I was committed. Luckily, I had my great old friends, like Dana and Zizi, and great new friends, like Vered and Anat, to keep me company. I even received an invitation to Shabat dinner for the following night.

Stealing what few hours of sleep I could from the pre-noon I awoke half remembering a promise from Zizi and Dana to take me shopping the following day. I already had a few text messages from them asking me where I was. We reached the mall right as all the shops were closing in observance of the coming Shabat evening, but we did get to check out some of the market nearby and I got to try a true Israeli falafel. Not a bad day.

The thing about agreements made in loud dance club after midnight, is that they aren’t guaranteed to come out the way you had planned. My shopping trip was a case in point. My appointment for my first Shabat dinner was another.

Instead of having a Shabat dinner at home, Vered ran the day a little long and had no time to cook, so she organized a dinner out on the town with some friends. It was brilliant.

Israelis love to have fun. Everyone was laughing and joking with one another, friends, strangers, locals and foreigners. Israelis can drink. With the exception of Vered, who seems to be comfortably numb after a 1/2 beer.

The following night, I was the lucky recipient of a hamburger dinner and a personal guided walking tour of the historic district surrounding the old train station from my new friend Lee; it was as beautiful as it was historic.

All too soon, I had to head back to the base and being another week of work.

When I got back to Tel Aviv, I was again struck by how simple it was to get anything done. Taxis, buses, and trains could get you anywhere within a reasonable amount of time. Walking was easy and maps were relatively good.

Vered even managed to find time in her schedule to give me a cooking lesson disguised as dinner. I learned how to make one of my favorite new foods: shakshouka!

I managed to make it to my hotel, the market, the mall, and anywhere I wanted to go. The only thing that held me back was my own sense of time and the fact that I simply did not have enough days in the city.

Why Not?

After a long day at the end of my stay, I made plans to catch up with the miraculously happy Zizi, and I was late showing up and the velvet rope kept me outside until I just ran out of steam and retired for the evening. Oddly enough, the club was the Israel Dental Association. I am still not sure how that works.

Anyone considering a trip to Israel, make sure to leave yourself a few days for Tel Aviv. It is hard to explain just how touching the people here are and just how easy it is to feel at home. It is a city with a past to make you think and a present that promises a good time!

Besos!

Wrap Up:

Tel Aviv is waiting with open arms. They are going to love you.

Get acquainted with the bus routes if you need to travel long distances. Taxis are prevalent, but they can get expensive if you are moving around a lot.

Go out on the town. Talk to people, they are just friends waiting to happen.

Check out the beach. There are tons of good hotels and even some hostels lining the beach that can take care of you.

Check out the malls. If you are in need of anything from the western world or just want to do some people watching, this is the place. Pro tip: only the tourists wear the IDF t-shirts. If you are going to buy them, go home before you wear them around.

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Giving Thanks: 2010 Edition

This year, I am in Israel. A place I really never thought I would go. And now I am here… looking for some semblance of purpose.

This place is full of purpose.

The populace here is surrounded by problems. They live in the shadow of war and go shopping with assault rifles. They know people who have died and have friends in captivity. And they smile. They laugh and smile every day.

The cab driver that shuffled me home one evening said that when we have these huge problems, we can be truly appreciative of the other stuff; the parts that slip through the cracks: the way she raises her eyebrows when I talk to her, sometimes, like she hears me with her entire body; the silly moments at breakfast; a warm touch from a friend; inside jokes that bind us with secret emotions to our loved ones.

Spending this year as I have, owning nothing I can’t carry, and with friends for only days at a time, I like to think that I truly appreciate these things. I know that I crave them. I see my friends and loved one in my dreams. I smile when I remember these parts of my life that have formed me into what I am. Daily, I am struck by something that reminds me of how uniquely magical this life is.

I have relied on strangers for so much this year. I have no one with me, and I must ask directions, food, lodging, honesty, transport, and anything else I need to survive from complete strangers. Some of them remain that way, while others have truly touched my heart and become brilliant stars in my universe.

This year, I spend Thanksgiving on a military base, surrounded by kids with guns who all have stories of their own. Every place I go reminds me of how much I love the USA and how fortunate I am to have been born there.

I am thankful for American smiles, and all the doors they open.

I am eternally grateful for the memories I have that keep my heart warm in the cool and my mind focused on the goal and remind me that in order to have memories like this we must live everyday with purpose and love.

Hope: the belief that all this will lead to something even greater. The hope that I will create something great with my experiences and be able to give all that I have back to the world in some fashion.

Never take something for free. A very wise warrior told me this.

I try to go out of my way to tell everyone how thankful I am for their help. It is the people who enrich and affect my life daily that will help me to give back to the world around me. If I haven’t had the opportunity to take you by the hand and look you in the eye and express my thanks for the influence you have had on my life recently, then know that I am speaking to you now.

Thank you. Thank you for all that you do and all that you are and all that you have been to me.

In the USA, today is a day of Thanksgiving. Today, in this far off place, I give thanks to you; for you.

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Voluntourism: Sar-El and the IDF

Gain by losing.

Let’s face it, we lose things every day. we lose socks in the laundry, money from our pockets and hours from our lives. What if by voluntarily giving up these things, in effect losing them, we could gain so much more in return?

I just lost three weeks in Israel. And in return, I gained amazing friends, new skills, and a pretty cool scar on my back. Ok, so maybe not everyone thinks the last one is cool. Story as follows…

Before this, Israel was never really high on my radar. Little did I know, with a little help from LLWorldTour.com, it was about to get a big upgrade. Lisa Lubin, the amazing woman from LL World Tour, wrote an article on Voluntourism. That was all I needed. I contacted Sar-El, the organization that coordinates volunteers for the IDF and bought a plane ticket.

I was warned that coming from Turkey and Morocco, I might be asked a few extra questions on my way into Israel. This is basically how it went.

Guard: Why are you coming to Israel?

Me: To volunteer with Sar-El.

Guard: Oh, cool. Do you know where they are putting you?

Me: Nope.

Guard: ok. have fun. *stamp*

Not much to it.

I skated through baggage claim, and met my contact Pamela in the terminal at Ben Gurion, and checked in. She told me a little bit about the program, I paid her the equivalent of $90 USD for my room and board for the two weeks we had agreed on, and wondered what to do with the next 6 hours until our bus left for the base I was to be stationed on: Beit Lid, a paratrooper base.

My first itinerary item was to find a cel phone chip; I have problems with payphones. This meant going into Tel-Aviv because there are no cel phone company stores left in Ben-Gurion airport. No sweat; this is fast and easy. Grab the train outside the arrivals terminal to HaShalom station for Azrieli Mall. It costs 14 sheckles and at least 50% of the populace speaks enough English to give you directions; never fear.

This was a mall like any other in the USA, aside from the fact that half the signs were written in Hebrew and half the 20 year olds were carrying assault rifles.

After some searching, I found the only company to sell pre-paid simcards is CellCom, and they hooked me up with a number.

Sunday evening approached and I returned to the airport to catch a bus with volunteers from around the world out to our base. Switzerland, New Zealand, Australia, Hungary, Canada, USA; people seemed to come from everywhere! On this bus we also got to meet our Madrichot, the IDF members assigned to help our merry band integrate  the IDF; Lee and Romi.

That night we loaded into our army barracks. My roommate Aaron was alternately obsessed with smelling his passport and overjoyed to finally be here for the event that he had spent so long waiting for. We chose our bunks from the metal framework and racked out.

Not everyone got such nice sleeping accommodations.

The following Monday morning, we arose and had our first-of-many flag raising ceremony, picked up our snappy new uniforms, and got to work.

The next first week was hot, sweaty, dirty, very rewarding work. We emptied old warehouses, tore things apart, painted, built shelving and organized all manner of military kit. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have fun doing it; far from it! We had a blast talking to soldiers, teachers, officers, logistics workers and each other. The officers Alon and Rami were brilliant; truly good men with great hearts. The logistics staff were hilarious, making sure we were well caffeinated and always smiling.

Every night our Madrichot had an activity for us following dinner. Often these were lectures, guest speakers, games, or activities with the soldiers. The hard work that went in to these evenings was apparent and I made sure to tell the organizers every night how much I appreciated to effort. I know that being in the military can be a thankless job sometimes, so it’s good to take the accolades where you can get them.

The meals are all provided on the base, and the food is great. The cooks there really put their hearts into it, and you can tell. Everything from humus to schnitzel and a million vegetables in between. When we were there, someone was rather fond of cucumbers.

The weekend for the volunteers starts on Thursday afternoon, when we all jump on a bus and head back to Tel Aviv for the weekend. On the weekend, the volunteers have the option of staying at an IDF hostel, Beit Oded, in the city free of charge. It is right next to the beach and a movie theater and provides rudimentary meals and housing for the volunteers. As opposed to the base, the food in Beit Oded is enough to keep you alive; little else. One thing they don’t tell you ahead of time is that everyone  who stays there has to clean up the bathrooms, rooms and everything before heading back to “work” the next Sunday morning. There is also a 12 midnight curfew. It is basic; you get what you pay for. It is exactly what you would expect of an Army hostel.

The second week, we were all a little more accustomed to the routine. The work was still hot and sweaty, but we were faster and more coordinated so it flew by. Ours was the first Sar-El group that the paratroopers at Beit-Lid had ever had and they weren’t quite sure what to do with us, so sometimes we found ourselves with nothing to do since we finished the days worth of work before the day was half over. The IDF officers didn’t want to work the volunteers too hard, but many of the volunteers came to do just that: work hard.

There was a good deal of self regulation among the group as a whole. The ones who tired quickly took more break time, leaving the ones who wanted to work… well, working.

Tuesday meant we took an entire day off from life in the service and put on civvies, civilian clothes, to go and visit a nearby city, Zichron, and see some of the history of the area and visit a refugee camp from WWII.

Not being Jewish myself, nearly everything I saw and heard was some form of revelation. I didn’t know about the origins of the language, the important events in the country’s history, or even important founding members of the government, so I constantly needed to be filled in by someone nearby.

One of the highlights of the week was a paratrooper named Lior. Not only was he just about the coolest soldier we met, but he showed us the workings of the m4 assault rifle, made us coffee and chai in a trench in a field over a small fire and under a starry sky.

At the end of the second week, I was supposed to be done with my initial commitment to Sar-El. That didn’t happen.

The sense of purpose and family I was developing with the people at the base and on my team was having a bonding effect. I wanted to stay and finish out the third week on the base with my group; each group only stays at a base for 3 weeks. I asked the Madrichot and the program coordinator if I could stick around and they quickly agreed I should stay.

Rarely in life is someone given the  truth of themselves. It engenders a strength, understanding, and humility that draws people like a magnet. Doron was one of these people. Doron spent a great many years in the IDF, eventually stepping back from the line to become a trainer for the next generation. We volunteers were beyond privileged to have met him while we were there, not once, but several times as he made special trips to come and speak to us.

The third week was (surprise) more sweaty dirty work. The logistics officers had become more accustomed to our pace and were finding all manner of jobs for us to do. Unfortunately, as I said before, they weren’t fully prepared for us and sometimes they didn’t have the gear we needed to safely and effectively perform the work, so we had to find something else to do; like Krav Maga.

One afternoon in the final week of our engagement with the IDF, our Madrichot told us we were going to take a field trip. We all piled on to a bus, with the usual assortment of machine guns and handbags. After several hours of beautiful terrain, Lior informed us that we had arrived at his Kibbutz.

A Kibbutz is something I had only read about, and even then, I thought they had ceased to exist some time ago. They are something of a socialist living agreement between the people there and they do all manner of things for one another. They had horses, chickens, cows, a factory, a dairy, cars, a pool, and schools. We cooked pita over an open fire and played guitar and ate until will into the night before we had to rock back to the base.

As luck would have it, the final night of our three week engagement at Beit-Lid would also be the first night of Hanuka. I personally had never seen anything Hanuka related outside of a store front or television program which meant I knew 0.1% of what was involved.

The Tsanchanim put on a giant Hanuka dinner and invited we volunteers to come and be a part of it. It was awesome! We had tons of food, people wouldn’t stop handing out presents, I heard a Hanuka song and prayer for the first time in my life; but not the last. Everyone was having so much fun it was hard to believe that it was such a religious event. Most religious things I had been to previously have been a little dry and heavy on the boring. This was anything but…

I even got to show off a short video I made to thank our hosts.

Eventually, the night had to end, and everyone went to work cleaning up and putting away the party we had enjoyed all night. Embraces, handshakes, and non-stop goodbyes ate up most of the late night hours and the next morning. I had to promise Alon at least a dozen times that I would come and stay with his family when I came back.

Finally retiring our brown uniforms and donning our civilian clothes for a final time, we hopped our last bus and ate up the miles back to the city and my last weekend with my friends in Tel Aviv.

There are times, when I am away from life as I know it, that I realize how truly fortunate I am to have nothing. In place of my own life, I get to pick up other peoples lives, their responsibilities at times, and carry them for a while to see how it feels.

Giving up my life as I have, I get these chances to walk a mile in a pair of shoes that I didn’t know existed. I have the true pleasure of working and playing with wonderful souls on every portion of this planet and it does nothing but enrich my life and allow me to feel closer to the world as a whole.

While we may not all be able to drop our lives in a storage locker and go, we can find opportunities like this closer to home with all manner of volunteering; I’ve helped at hospitals for children, animal shelters, with the Boy Scouts and even churches I am not affiliated with. We can even make the plan and leave home specifically to do something like this. These are ways that we can multiply the rewards we receive for or efforts. It’s worth the time; so take it, and lose it.