(a quıck sıde note: İm wrıtıng thıs at 745 AM -cant sleep- from the lobby of the Artemıs Hotel ın Selçuk Turkey whıch ranks a notch below that Days Inn I once stayed at on the AC Expressway for a frıends bachelor party where for some bızarre reason the mattresses and box sprıngs were slanted and I slept sıdeways whıle grıppıng the wall wıth one hand. Also. some of the normal keys have been replaced by funny lookıng Turkısh letters-hence why my 'ı's have no dots.)
Saturday July 24
After breakfast on the kıbbutz Becky Ellıe and I head to the nearby Naot factory to fınd sandals. I try on lots of paırs but none really seem to fıt well. My feet are too flat and too narrow. :(
From there we drıve to Manara whıch ıs a kıbbutz that also runs an adventure ropes course. It ıs quıte sımılar to camp and we spend the day rock clımbıng. rappellıng (whıch ısraelıs call 'snappelıng') zıp lınıng. a rıde ın a jeep and on an alpıne slıde. Its a fun day and everyone there ıs nıce - especıally the cute Israelı gırl from Haıfa who sells us our tıckets.
The rıde home ıs long and I pull over somewhere off of Road 70 convınced that I left my ıpod back at the kıbbutz.- I only half flıp out for fıve mınutes or so untıl I fınd ıt ın the trunk (ıt slıpped out of my bag!)
Then whıle we contınue on the road I become ecstatıc as droplets of water begın to hıt the wındshıeld. 'Its raınıng! I shout. Untıl Ellıe dashes my hopes of seeıng raın ın Israel ın Augustç 'Mıke-thats just the car ın front of us sprayıng ıts wındshıeld.'
We stop near Haıfa at Carmel Beach to get dınner and walk around for a bıt. I go for a swım ın the Med. Sea and after attempt to joın ın what looks lıke an Israelı dance lesson. Some Israelı guy comes up to me and starts shoutıng Hebrew ın my face. Ellıe translates: 'Its not a lesson - ıts a performance he wants to know why you're ruınıng ıt.' I duck out of the cırcle as the ırate Israelı guy contınues to yell at me whıle I walk down the boardwalk. I am ırked but let ıt slıde (for now.)
We leave and drop off Ellıe at her granparents house ın Holon but Becky stays wıth me on the rıde back to Jerusalem. We are low on gas so ın order to fınd a gas statıon we plug ıt ın to our shıtty GPS. The navıgatıon system brıngs us to a shady Delek gas statıon on the border of Tel Avıv. When we pull up the Israelı guy yells 'Gas statıon for taxı only not for you.!'
'Could you tell me where the next closest gas statıon ıs? We are almost out of gas.'
'No.' And the Israelı man walks away and starts talkıng to hıs frıend gettıng gas ın the next pump.
Now I am angry and mad and ınfurıated and go ınto I am from NY mode (Ok NJ but close enough) and have had enough of beıng yelled at by these ınconsıderate fuckıng ısraelı shıtheads and decıde ı wıll let hım have ıt. I step out of the car and do my own rendıtıon of screamıng and yellıng that >I only asked where the f'ıng gas statıon was and ıs he that bıg of a dıckhead that he cant help out a lost tourıst whose hard earned tax money goes to your defense budget so you can lıve ın thıs country (3 bıllıon a year) peacefully and democratıcally and your economy ıs one fıfth tourısm and blah blah blah (expletıves deleted). He ıgnores all of ıt. He pretends lıke I am not even there and contınues to talk to my frıend. Thıs makes me even more furıous - I am dyıng for some sort of response even ıf I get punched ın the face at least I wıll feel some sort of vındıcatıon. I get nothıng. Not even a look or a stare. I drıve away fınally to fınd another gas statıon. Beckly looks frıghtened and scared. It ıs a long quıet rıde back to Jerusalem.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Road Trip (Part 2)
Friday July 23
Friday morning: Breakfast is great and I am delighted to see pancakes for the first time in about a month. Afterwards we spend 20 minutes or so speaking with the “hotel” manager/concierge about where to go for water sports on the Kinneret. He spouts off some places and we grab a map scribble them down and embark on our adventure. We thank him for his help and he calls us “wonderful Americans.” Ellie objects vehemently and insists that the British are nothing at all like those obnoxious Americans.
We arrive at the first beach after only getting a little lost and travel time has only been about an hour. The woman standing at the gate charges us 140 shekels ($45) to get in. Something does not seem right but we pay anyway and make our way down the hill to park the car. When we disembark the beachfront looks like a refugee camp and is sprawled from end to end with barbecues and tents. We quickly realize that the reason why the price was so expensive is because all of the Israelis have brought tents to camp out here for the weekend. In effort to gauge the situation I speak to two nice teenage Israeli girls whose English is excellent and they tell us that the woman at the game is quite reasonable and will give us our money back if we explain the situation. The three of us are quite surprised by this as Israel is a country well known for its no return policy. You can not return anything to the store for a credit or refund. All sales are final even if it is unopened or the wrong item. Sure enough we receive our 140 shekels back and try to find a non camping beach with water sports. I drive away contemplating whether a Nordstrom’s would succeed in Israel with its indomitable return policy.
The rental car radio has an MP3 USB port but none of us can you figure out how to use it. I connect it with my Ipod but it won’t play. (Israel doesn’t seem to like Apple products in general. Most web pages won’t load right in Safari or even Firefox. Damn you Bill Gates!). Of course it isn’t until after the weekend is over and we are on the ride home that Ellie tries her Ipod and it works but plays all the songs consecutively- which means that because she has all 7 Harry Potter books as audio files we must fast forward through 235 chapters of Harry Potter before we can listen to any real music. By this point we have bought the appropriate batteries for Ellie’s Ipod speakers and are having Becky DJ in the back seat. She plays and sings along to Akinyele’s 90’s classic “Put It In Your Mouth” – twice – before settling on agreeable classic rock tunes and later the Avenue Q soundtrack.
We arrive at the second beach entrance, which is located behind a very small waterpark. Before we fork over more money without knowing what we are getting I ask the man at the booth whether this is the place that has water sports. “I don’t know. I just work in booth.” We ask a few more people and no one seems to know where to find the water sports. Eventually I park the Avis rental car under a shady tree and we embark on a long walk down the hill to the beachfront. We stop at the bathroom to change and the conditions are less than par. It is eerily similar to the bathrooms in Eilat where I watched a man clean the bathroom and toilets with the water from the toilet bowl.
The beach has a few small water sports and we elect to take a ride on the Abuv – which is like a 3 person water tube where you lie flat on your stomach. The ride is super fun and the three of us going flying off the raft and tumbling through the water. After about ten minutes we head back into shore and the girls beg the lifeguard for a ride on the motorboat while he takes out the next group. He obliges but says the he can only take two passengers and I let the girls enjoy their free boat ride.
We swim around for a little bit and then dry off and head off to pick up our friend Zack who made aliyah two years ago and is now serving in the army. The drive is only an hour and we pick him up on the side of the road outfitted in IDF army fatigues. We stop for gas and I buy a Twix because - well I felt like having one and there weren't any Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. It was quite delicious.
We drive to Tiberias and eat lunch and rent a motorboat to take out onto the Kinneret. Zack gets us a discount because he is in the army and his Hebrew is impeccable. The woman who rents us the boat has a tattoo of a fetus on her back left shoulder. Who said Israelis don't have class? Besides- what could possibly go wrong? Zack and I take turns driving the boat between the marked buoys. When we give the reins over to Becky - the engine sputters and instantaneously dies out. "Great Becky - you broke the boat." Sure enough- we have run out of gas. We drift out to sea as the "Jesus boats" (boats filled with Christan pilgrims b/c this is supposedly where Jesus walked on water) pass us by and wave.
As we are floating out to Jordan Zack says: : "Maybe there's some sort of emergency number to call"
Me: "Right. Like Israeli lady with the fetus tattoo would put the important stuff in her motorboats."
Zack: "You mean like the placard under the wheel that says (in Hebrew) 'Mispar Cherum' (Emergency number)"
Whoops.
Zack calls and a 16 year old Israeli boy comes out in a motorboat with two religious orthodox girls. We laugh and take their pictures as they take ours. The Israeli boy ties our boat to his and tows us back into shore. Thirty minutes later we dock and are glad to be back on land. A few minutes after the religious girls go by and I ask them if we can look at the pictures. Hurriedly - they quickly turn and walk in the other direction. Apparently I have affronted them with my polite manners and secular lifestyle.
Afterward we drop Zack off at the army base and drive down the other side of the mountain to get back to Kibbutz Gonen. The drive is beautiful and we can see all the way to Lebanon. As we come around a giant S curve the sun is setting in the distance. I stop the car so we can get out - take a few pictures and watch the sunset. However - almost immediately wasps and bees the size of which are larger than birds- begin to swarm around us and we make a mad dash for the car.
When we return to the Kibbutz Becky and I spend an hour online researching a restaurant in the area that will be open on a Friday night. We decide on Japanik- a chic sushi/Asian restaurant not far from Kiryat Shemona. However our plan is thwarted on account of Ellie's dislike (allergy?) to noodles! Oh dear. We drive over there anyhow and settle at a restaurant named Arburger bar. As such - their burger is good and Etty our waitress is nice (and adorable).
The dessert - chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream is fantastical and a most perfect end to yet another fun filled adventurous day.
Friday morning: Breakfast is great and I am delighted to see pancakes for the first time in about a month. Afterwards we spend 20 minutes or so speaking with the “hotel” manager/concierge about where to go for water sports on the Kinneret. He spouts off some places and we grab a map scribble them down and embark on our adventure. We thank him for his help and he calls us “wonderful Americans.” Ellie objects vehemently and insists that the British are nothing at all like those obnoxious Americans.
We arrive at the first beach after only getting a little lost and travel time has only been about an hour. The woman standing at the gate charges us 140 shekels ($45) to get in. Something does not seem right but we pay anyway and make our way down the hill to park the car. When we disembark the beachfront looks like a refugee camp and is sprawled from end to end with barbecues and tents. We quickly realize that the reason why the price was so expensive is because all of the Israelis have brought tents to camp out here for the weekend. In effort to gauge the situation I speak to two nice teenage Israeli girls whose English is excellent and they tell us that the woman at the game is quite reasonable and will give us our money back if we explain the situation. The three of us are quite surprised by this as Israel is a country well known for its no return policy. You can not return anything to the store for a credit or refund. All sales are final even if it is unopened or the wrong item. Sure enough we receive our 140 shekels back and try to find a non camping beach with water sports. I drive away contemplating whether a Nordstrom’s would succeed in Israel with its indomitable return policy.
We arrive at the second beach entrance, which is located behind a very small waterpark. Before we fork over more money without knowing what we are getting I ask the man at the booth whether this is the place that has water sports. “I don’t know. I just work in booth.” We ask a few more people and no one seems to know where to find the water sports. Eventually I park the Avis rental car under a shady tree and we embark on a long walk down the hill to the beachfront. We stop at the bathroom to change and the conditions are less than par. It is eerily similar to the bathrooms in Eilat where I watched a man clean the bathroom and toilets with the water from the toilet bowl.
 |
| Abuv |
We swim around for a little bit and then dry off and head off to pick up our friend Zack who made aliyah two years ago and is now serving in the army. The drive is only an hour and we pick him up on the side of the road outfitted in IDF army fatigues. We stop for gas and I buy a Twix because - well I felt like having one and there weren't any Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. It was quite delicious.
We drive to Tiberias and eat lunch and rent a motorboat to take out onto the Kinneret. Zack gets us a discount because he is in the army and his Hebrew is impeccable. The woman who rents us the boat has a tattoo of a fetus on her back left shoulder. Who said Israelis don't have class? Besides- what could possibly go wrong? Zack and I take turns driving the boat between the marked buoys. When we give the reins over to Becky - the engine sputters and instantaneously dies out. "Great Becky - you broke the boat." Sure enough- we have run out of gas. We drift out to sea as the "Jesus boats" (boats filled with Christan pilgrims b/c this is supposedly where Jesus walked on water) pass us by and wave.
As we are floating out to Jordan Zack says: : "Maybe there's some sort of emergency number to call"
Me: "Right. Like Israeli lady with the fetus tattoo would put the important stuff in her motorboats."
Zack: "You mean like the placard under the wheel that says (in Hebrew) 'Mispar Cherum' (Emergency number)"
Whoops.
 |
| Zack calls for help. |
Afterward we drop Zack off at the army base and drive down the other side of the mountain to get back to Kibbutz Gonen. The drive is beautiful and we can see all the way to Lebanon. As we come around a giant S curve the sun is setting in the distance. I stop the car so we can get out - take a few pictures and watch the sunset. However - almost immediately wasps and bees the size of which are larger than birds- begin to swarm around us and we make a mad dash for the car.
When we return to the Kibbutz Becky and I spend an hour online researching a restaurant in the area that will be open on a Friday night. We decide on Japanik- a chic sushi/Asian restaurant not far from Kiryat Shemona. However our plan is thwarted on account of Ellie's dislike (allergy?) to noodles! Oh dear. We drive over there anyhow and settle at a restaurant named Arburger bar. As such - their burger is good and Etty our waitress is nice (and adorable).
The dessert - chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream is fantastical and a most perfect end to yet another fun filled adventurous day.
 |
| Mmmm! |
The Party and The Road Trip (Part 1)
Wednesday - July 21 2010
The Party
The night before the Pardes Summer Curriculum workshop ended, I decided to throw a small get together with some of the friends I’ve made from the program. I find Corona at the Machneh Yehuda market and buy some lemons and snacks to go with it. (Israel doesn’t have limes. There isn’t even a word for lime in Hebrew. Oranges- yes. Lemons – yes. No limes. I thought you could grow all citrus in like climates?? Bizarre.)
The party is fun and I make pomegranate martinis for the ladies. I’ve hooked up the Macbook to the TV for music and sound; however Shannon directs the conversation to her love of flashmobs and we watch the one she participated in in St. Louis. This is followed by an hour of everyone else talking about their favorite flashmobs and we watch them consecutively: one with The Sound of Music playing in a train station (Sweden? Denmark? I can’t recall) then one with the Black Eyed Peas on Oprah in Chicago; the one in Israel on Ben Yehuda St. You get the idea.
By midnight I have the music back on and am playing the role of obligatory DJ fulfilling guests’ requests at will. Dancing and singing ensues and I secretly wish that there was a karaoke bar somewhere nearby. Twice- a Russian man (who I’ve never seen before in the building) comes downstairs threatening to call the police because we are being too loud. By 2 AM the bowls of Pringles and Doritos are empty as is the vodka and beer bottles. The masses empty out and I take pride in having shown my new friends a good time on their last night.
Thursday July 22 2010
On Thursday – I wake up hung over and sleep deprived. I throw myself into the shower and as I lift the shower head off its handle, it falls apart in pieces.
Historically this shower head has been my Israeli nemesis. When my parents were here, my Dad lifted the shower head off its mantle only to have the hinge fall out of the wall. Luckily Tzeon – the handy man at the Prima Royale hotel came over to fix it for 100 shekels . I finish up the shower old school style -cupping my hands and splashing water around until all the shampoo is out of my eyes. Already I can tell it’s going to be a long day.
I dress and make it out to the bus carrying the broken shower head in a plastic bag. During the day I will run to the nearby “Home Center” (small Home Depot with Martha Steward Living magazine in Hebrew! She is everywhere!) But when I board and hand the bus driver my 10 ride ticket he hands it back to me and tells me that I have used up all my rides and need to buy a new one. I reach for my wallet but when I open it- it is sans shekels. I offer the bus driver the equivalent in American dollars to which he responds “This is not America…. This is Israel!” I have angered Mr. Israeli bus driver and he kicks me off at the next stop. I resolve to walk the rest of the way to school using the new short cut that my friend Mo had shown the previous day. However, (you know what’s coming here) I make a wrong turn and (again) get lost. I wind up in the neighborhood of Baka but eventually get my bearings and arrive at school only an hour late.
I scurry over to the home center where the very nice man who works there tells me I do not need an new shower head and only need a certain “grommit” and “shim” (for you DF) to connect the pieces and all will be “B’seder.” (Hebrew=Okay)
I make it through the morning sessions and afterwards there is a nice last day luncheon. However, before anyone eats there is the obligatory few words and comments from the program people etc… I am starving - having not eaten breakfast in the chaos of the morning’s events - but begrudgingly oblige.
It is at this point that I reach the conclusion that letting Jewish teachers talk without time limits is a bad idea. 1) teachers really like to hear themselves talk and 2) Jews really like to hear themselves talk. Putting a room full of Jewish teachers together is like James Lipton trying to get a word in edgewise during Robin Williams’ “Inside the Actor’s Studio” interview.
The speeches continue while the Kosher non dairy ice cream melts into soup and the borekas become cold. All is not lost though as it is Val’s birthday and the piece of halvah cake I receive (Thanks Sue!) turns out to be one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten on the face of the planet. Yum!
The Road Trip
After everyone says their good byes and exchanges emails, pleasantries etc… I leave to go find the Avis car rental place to rent a car for my 3 day weekend road trip to the Galilee and Golan Heights with my camp friends Ellie and Becky.
I try to follow the walking directions from Google maps but there are few road signs and fewer people who know their way around the Talpiyot Industrial area. Luckily, I meet Manni at the Delek gas station and he offers me a ride to Avis - as I am now 30 minutes away (walking) in the wrong direction. Renting a car in Israel requires an $800 deposit. This makes Chase bank very unhappy and they freeze my credit card immediately. I call them to talk it over and speak to Cindy in Arizona. I have never been more happy to hear the sound of an American speaking English before. Moreover she is nice to me. We clear up the credit card mishaps and I promise Cindy that the next time I am in Phoenix I will take her out to dinner.
I also rent a GPS for $25 in hopes that it will curtail all of the getting lost I have been doing. (It doesn’t). I drive to Holon to pick up the girls and only make one wrong turn without even turning the GPS on. It is nice to have company in the car and even nicer to see my friends.
We stop for gas - which in Israel comes out to about $6 a gallon! Israel gets most of their gas from Russia since their relationship with their oil laden neighbors is sub par at best. I think about what kind of civil war might break out in America if gas prices ever got that high and hope that the populace will trade in their gas guzzlers soon for a Prius or (even better) Chevy Volt.
Driving in Israel isn’t as bad as I suspect but I surprise the drivers by actually letting them in when the lanes merge. This is an old trick I learned in New Jersey where people are polite and courteous and drive well. ☺ However, no one offers a courtesy wave or gesture for my niceties. No matter.
We nickname the GPS “Shitty” because it is exactly that. It doesn’t recognize any town, city, or village in English. When I type in “Jerusalem” it says “City not found – Invalid error- Please try again.” However – Ellie and Becky fiddle with it and manage to change the settings to Hebrew at which point the GPS plays a little nicer. Unfortunately it will not direct us to specific addresses- only to the centers of towns. Good enough... for now at least.
The car ride to Gonen takes 2.5 hours but we talk and catch up and gossip about camp and the mutual people we know. I eat pretzels and potato burekas for dinner in the car and eventually we arrive at the kibbutz Ellie booked online a few days earlier.
When we arrive everything looks extremely familiar and I soon place my Déjà Vu as I realize we are at the same kibbutz I was at a month ago with the students from school. We arrive at room 36 and it is even the same room I was in! What are the odds?
(End of Part 1)
The Party
The night before the Pardes Summer Curriculum workshop ended, I decided to throw a small get together with some of the friends I’ve made from the program. I find Corona at the Machneh Yehuda market and buy some lemons and snacks to go with it. (Israel doesn’t have limes. There isn’t even a word for lime in Hebrew. Oranges- yes. Lemons – yes. No limes. I thought you could grow all citrus in like climates?? Bizarre.)
The party is fun and I make pomegranate martinis for the ladies. I’ve hooked up the Macbook to the TV for music and sound; however Shannon directs the conversation to her love of flashmobs and we watch the one she participated in in St. Louis. This is followed by an hour of everyone else talking about their favorite flashmobs and we watch them consecutively: one with The Sound of Music playing in a train station (Sweden? Denmark? I can’t recall) then one with the Black Eyed Peas on Oprah in Chicago; the one in Israel on Ben Yehuda St. You get the idea.
By midnight I have the music back on and am playing the role of obligatory DJ fulfilling guests’ requests at will. Dancing and singing ensues and I secretly wish that there was a karaoke bar somewhere nearby. Twice- a Russian man (who I’ve never seen before in the building) comes downstairs threatening to call the police because we are being too loud. By 2 AM the bowls of Pringles and Doritos are empty as is the vodka and beer bottles. The masses empty out and I take pride in having shown my new friends a good time on their last night.
Thursday July 22 2010
On Thursday – I wake up hung over and sleep deprived. I throw myself into the shower and as I lift the shower head off its handle, it falls apart in pieces.
Historically this shower head has been my Israeli nemesis. When my parents were here, my Dad lifted the shower head off its mantle only to have the hinge fall out of the wall. Luckily Tzeon – the handy man at the Prima Royale hotel came over to fix it for 100 shekels . I finish up the shower old school style -cupping my hands and splashing water around until all the shampoo is out of my eyes. Already I can tell it’s going to be a long day.
I dress and make it out to the bus carrying the broken shower head in a plastic bag. During the day I will run to the nearby “Home Center” (small Home Depot with Martha Steward Living magazine in Hebrew! She is everywhere!) But when I board and hand the bus driver my 10 ride ticket he hands it back to me and tells me that I have used up all my rides and need to buy a new one. I reach for my wallet but when I open it- it is sans shekels. I offer the bus driver the equivalent in American dollars to which he responds “This is not America…. This is Israel!” I have angered Mr. Israeli bus driver and he kicks me off at the next stop. I resolve to walk the rest of the way to school using the new short cut that my friend Mo had shown the previous day. However, (you know what’s coming here) I make a wrong turn and (again) get lost. I wind up in the neighborhood of Baka but eventually get my bearings and arrive at school only an hour late.
I scurry over to the home center where the very nice man who works there tells me I do not need an new shower head and only need a certain “grommit” and “shim” (for you DF) to connect the pieces and all will be “B’seder.” (Hebrew=Okay)
I make it through the morning sessions and afterwards there is a nice last day luncheon. However, before anyone eats there is the obligatory few words and comments from the program people etc… I am starving - having not eaten breakfast in the chaos of the morning’s events - but begrudgingly oblige.
It is at this point that I reach the conclusion that letting Jewish teachers talk without time limits is a bad idea. 1) teachers really like to hear themselves talk and 2) Jews really like to hear themselves talk. Putting a room full of Jewish teachers together is like James Lipton trying to get a word in edgewise during Robin Williams’ “Inside the Actor’s Studio” interview.
The speeches continue while the Kosher non dairy ice cream melts into soup and the borekas become cold. All is not lost though as it is Val’s birthday and the piece of halvah cake I receive (Thanks Sue!) turns out to be one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten on the face of the planet. Yum!
The Road Trip
After everyone says their good byes and exchanges emails, pleasantries etc… I leave to go find the Avis car rental place to rent a car for my 3 day weekend road trip to the Galilee and Golan Heights with my camp friends Ellie and Becky.
I try to follow the walking directions from Google maps but there are few road signs and fewer people who know their way around the Talpiyot Industrial area. Luckily, I meet Manni at the Delek gas station and he offers me a ride to Avis - as I am now 30 minutes away (walking) in the wrong direction. Renting a car in Israel requires an $800 deposit. This makes Chase bank very unhappy and they freeze my credit card immediately. I call them to talk it over and speak to Cindy in Arizona. I have never been more happy to hear the sound of an American speaking English before. Moreover she is nice to me. We clear up the credit card mishaps and I promise Cindy that the next time I am in Phoenix I will take her out to dinner.
I also rent a GPS for $25 in hopes that it will curtail all of the getting lost I have been doing. (It doesn’t). I drive to Holon to pick up the girls and only make one wrong turn without even turning the GPS on. It is nice to have company in the car and even nicer to see my friends.
We stop for gas - which in Israel comes out to about $6 a gallon! Israel gets most of their gas from Russia since their relationship with their oil laden neighbors is sub par at best. I think about what kind of civil war might break out in America if gas prices ever got that high and hope that the populace will trade in their gas guzzlers soon for a Prius or (even better) Chevy Volt.
Driving in Israel isn’t as bad as I suspect but I surprise the drivers by actually letting them in when the lanes merge. This is an old trick I learned in New Jersey where people are polite and courteous and drive well. ☺ However, no one offers a courtesy wave or gesture for my niceties. No matter.
We nickname the GPS “Shitty” because it is exactly that. It doesn’t recognize any town, city, or village in English. When I type in “Jerusalem” it says “City not found – Invalid error- Please try again.” However – Ellie and Becky fiddle with it and manage to change the settings to Hebrew at which point the GPS plays a little nicer. Unfortunately it will not direct us to specific addresses- only to the centers of towns. Good enough... for now at least.
The car ride to Gonen takes 2.5 hours but we talk and catch up and gossip about camp and the mutual people we know. I eat pretzels and potato burekas for dinner in the car and eventually we arrive at the kibbutz Ellie booked online a few days earlier.
When we arrive everything looks extremely familiar and I soon place my Déjà Vu as I realize we are at the same kibbutz I was at a month ago with the students from school. We arrive at room 36 and it is even the same room I was in! What are the odds?
(End of Part 1)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Akko and Rosh Hanikra
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Akko and Rosh Hanikra
I awake at 5:20 AM and am excited for today’s trip to Akko and Rosh Hanikra. I booked the tour online on Sunday afternoon and received a “reservation” email. I assume that all is well and squared away and make my way downstairs. The United Tours bus is supposed to pick me up outside the Prima Royal hotel at 6 AM. I grab some fresh grapes from the fridge for breakfast and am dressed and ready to go at five to 6.
The bus does not come at 6 AM nor at 6:05 or 6:10. At 6:20 there is still no bus. I walk inside the hotel and ask them for some help. The very nice concierge dials the number for me and hands me the phone. The conversation goes as such:
Me: “Shalom. I booked a tour through you guys on Sunday for today to Akko and Rosh Hanikra from Jerusalem.”
Israeli Man on Phone: “Did you receive a confirmation email?”
Me: “I think so. I have it here in front of me” (reading the information contained within said email)
Israeli Man: “No. No. No. That is a “reservation email.’ I asked if you had gotten a confirmation email. I do not see you in our computer. Maybe our internet was down and it did not register with us.”
Me: What? @#$%^&* #$%^&* $%^&* !!!!
IMOP: Well, I am sorry sir but you could go on our Friday tour and we will give you a ten percent discount.
Me: So basically you’re offering me the $100 tour for $90 on a day I won’t be able to travel. Thanks but no thanks.
Frustrated I decide that I will do the tour on my own and never book an organized tour again. I grab my things and head to the Jerusalem bus station. After some asking around, I hop the 8:30 bus to Haifa and promptly fall asleep. At 10:15, I switch buses at Haifa to Akko. On the bus ride, I finally crack the clue to the NY Times Magazine crossword puzzle I have been working on since June 27 and most of the anger I’ve been feeling subsides.
By 11:15, I arrive in Akko and walk from the bus station through the new city and into the old city. Akko is mostly Arab and it definitely has a different vibe than the rest of the places I’ve visited. I start by the 12th century sea walls that the Crusaders built. From there I head to the Museum of Underground Prisoners which is the old citadel where the British kept all the Jewish prisoners (many of whom later became famous Israeli leaders and politicians) during the Resistance Movement for statehood.
Afterwards I debate doing the underground Crusader’s City but it is a long tour and I will have to come back. Instead I duck in and out of some shops and meet a very nice British woman in Kivunim. The entire store is art and other things made by individuals or groups with disabilities and some of the profits go to these groups. I buy a sign from a group home of deaf adults that is in both Hebrew and sign language. http://kvn.org.il/heb/ShopForMeaning
I talk with the manager Caroline for a while as she is from Leeds (UK) and I have been there a handful of times. Caroline gives me some good advice on where to go while I’m in Akko for a few more hours and where to go for lunch. I head into the shuk which is filled with lots of spices and fish. I buy some sweet paprika and some almonds and then head to Hummus Sayid for lunch.
Hummus Sayid has a long line out front and I have now been told by three people to eat here while I am in Akko. I wait for about 15 minutes until I am seated at a table with two middle aged Israeli men. There is no menu and the waiter brings a bowl of huge onion pieces and olives. My new Israeli eating partners are Shachar and Amnon. They are air conditioning repairmen and take their hummus very seriously. Between my broken Hebrew and their broken English we manage to piece together some semblance of a conversation between the enormous bites they take of the onions eating them as if they were apples!
The waiter brings us a bowl of hummus each and some pita. The hummus is quite yummy and the men tell me that it is the best in all of Israel. Although I agree that it is quite good I am pretty sure I’ve had better.
I am a polite hummus eater and tear a small piece of pita off and dip it into a small chunk of hummus before consuming it. However Shachar and Amnon will have none of that. They ferociously devour the hummus shredding huge pieces of pita and adding globs of parsley oil and pine nuts to their hummus while holding the bowl under their faces just in case any excess falls off back into the bowl.
My new friends finish within three minutes and even though I am still eating order tea for the whole table. The tea is sweet yet piping hot and I sip slowly careful not to burn my tongue. Shachar and Amnon gulp their hot tea as if they were shotgunning a can of Red Bull. We pay the check and party ways but I can’t help but feel that my manliness has been shattered in pieces.
After lunch I take one last walk back through the shuk and then grab a taxi to the train station. I take the the train from Akko to Naharriya and then grab a taxi to Rosh Hanikra (the next bus wasn’t for an hour). I ask the taxi driver to please drop me off at the grottoes and cable cars in Rosh Hanikira. When we pull up I am a bit underwhelmed with the scenery and ask the cab driver “Are you sure this is the place with the cable cars?” “Yah. Yah. Cable cars right there” “Ok. Well I’m going to go check with those two men over there just to be sure. Can you wait for a minute? “Ken. Ken. (Yes) 50 shekels.” I pay the cab driver step out of the cab and poof – he drives away. (Sigh). I make my way over to the two Israeli men sitting on a rock outside a bunch of houses. “Is this where the cable cars are?” It turns out that I am not anywhere near the cable cars and the taxi has dropped me off at Kibbutz Rosh Hanikra not the cliffs by the borders where the grottos are. However Joseph – an extremely nice Israeli offers to give me a ride from the Kibbutz to the border. I am eternally grateful and offer him a place to stay anytime he decides to make aliyah to New York. ☺
Rosh Hanikra is beautiful and the water in the grottos is sky blue. I meet some kids from London, watch the information movie in Spanish (then again in English), and watch the workers there prepare for a wedding that will be happening there later that night (cool!).
Finally, at 6 o’clock. I am ready to go. Train from R.H. back to Naharriya. Train from Naharriya to Tel Aviv. On the train the woman across from me takes out a piece of paper and writes: “Our future is bright…” I ask her if she is preparing her wedding vows but it turns out that she is a nursery school teacher at an English and Hebrew speaking school. So, I help her compose an end of the year poem in English for her students. Tel Aviv sherut back to Jerusalem. It has been an adventurous, tiresome, and eventful day. I walk in the door completely exhausted at 9:30 and collapse on my bed in my clothes. Almost simultaneously - the wooden slats give out and the bed collapses beneath me.
Akko and Rosh Hanikra
I awake at 5:20 AM and am excited for today’s trip to Akko and Rosh Hanikra. I booked the tour online on Sunday afternoon and received a “reservation” email. I assume that all is well and squared away and make my way downstairs. The United Tours bus is supposed to pick me up outside the Prima Royal hotel at 6 AM. I grab some fresh grapes from the fridge for breakfast and am dressed and ready to go at five to 6.
The bus does not come at 6 AM nor at 6:05 or 6:10. At 6:20 there is still no bus. I walk inside the hotel and ask them for some help. The very nice concierge dials the number for me and hands me the phone. The conversation goes as such:
Me: “Shalom. I booked a tour through you guys on Sunday for today to Akko and Rosh Hanikra from Jerusalem.”
Israeli Man on Phone: “Did you receive a confirmation email?”
Me: “I think so. I have it here in front of me” (reading the information contained within said email)
Israeli Man: “No. No. No. That is a “reservation email.’ I asked if you had gotten a confirmation email. I do not see you in our computer. Maybe our internet was down and it did not register with us.”
Me: What? @#$%^&* #$%^&* $%^&* !!!!
IMOP: Well, I am sorry sir but you could go on our Friday tour and we will give you a ten percent discount.
Me: So basically you’re offering me the $100 tour for $90 on a day I won’t be able to travel. Thanks but no thanks.
Frustrated I decide that I will do the tour on my own and never book an organized tour again. I grab my things and head to the Jerusalem bus station. After some asking around, I hop the 8:30 bus to Haifa and promptly fall asleep. At 10:15, I switch buses at Haifa to Akko. On the bus ride, I finally crack the clue to the NY Times Magazine crossword puzzle I have been working on since June 27 and most of the anger I’ve been feeling subsides.
By 11:15, I arrive in Akko and walk from the bus station through the new city and into the old city. Akko is mostly Arab and it definitely has a different vibe than the rest of the places I’ve visited. I start by the 12th century sea walls that the Crusaders built. From there I head to the Museum of Underground Prisoners which is the old citadel where the British kept all the Jewish prisoners (many of whom later became famous Israeli leaders and politicians) during the Resistance Movement for statehood.
Afterwards I debate doing the underground Crusader’s City but it is a long tour and I will have to come back. Instead I duck in and out of some shops and meet a very nice British woman in Kivunim. The entire store is art and other things made by individuals or groups with disabilities and some of the profits go to these groups. I buy a sign from a group home of deaf adults that is in both Hebrew and sign language. http://kvn.org.il/heb/ShopForMeaning
I talk with the manager Caroline for a while as she is from Leeds (UK) and I have been there a handful of times. Caroline gives me some good advice on where to go while I’m in Akko for a few more hours and where to go for lunch. I head into the shuk which is filled with lots of spices and fish. I buy some sweet paprika and some almonds and then head to Hummus Sayid for lunch.
Hummus Sayid has a long line out front and I have now been told by three people to eat here while I am in Akko. I wait for about 15 minutes until I am seated at a table with two middle aged Israeli men. There is no menu and the waiter brings a bowl of huge onion pieces and olives. My new Israeli eating partners are Shachar and Amnon. They are air conditioning repairmen and take their hummus very seriously. Between my broken Hebrew and their broken English we manage to piece together some semblance of a conversation between the enormous bites they take of the onions eating them as if they were apples!
The waiter brings us a bowl of hummus each and some pita. The hummus is quite yummy and the men tell me that it is the best in all of Israel. Although I agree that it is quite good I am pretty sure I’ve had better.
I am a polite hummus eater and tear a small piece of pita off and dip it into a small chunk of hummus before consuming it. However Shachar and Amnon will have none of that. They ferociously devour the hummus shredding huge pieces of pita and adding globs of parsley oil and pine nuts to their hummus while holding the bowl under their faces just in case any excess falls off back into the bowl.
My new friends finish within three minutes and even though I am still eating order tea for the whole table. The tea is sweet yet piping hot and I sip slowly careful not to burn my tongue. Shachar and Amnon gulp their hot tea as if they were shotgunning a can of Red Bull. We pay the check and party ways but I can’t help but feel that my manliness has been shattered in pieces.
After lunch I take one last walk back through the shuk and then grab a taxi to the train station. I take the the train from Akko to Naharriya and then grab a taxi to Rosh Hanikra (the next bus wasn’t for an hour). I ask the taxi driver to please drop me off at the grottoes and cable cars in Rosh Hanikira. When we pull up I am a bit underwhelmed with the scenery and ask the cab driver “Are you sure this is the place with the cable cars?” “Yah. Yah. Cable cars right there” “Ok. Well I’m going to go check with those two men over there just to be sure. Can you wait for a minute? “Ken. Ken. (Yes) 50 shekels.” I pay the cab driver step out of the cab and poof – he drives away. (Sigh). I make my way over to the two Israeli men sitting on a rock outside a bunch of houses. “Is this where the cable cars are?” It turns out that I am not anywhere near the cable cars and the taxi has dropped me off at Kibbutz Rosh Hanikra not the cliffs by the borders where the grottos are. However Joseph – an extremely nice Israeli offers to give me a ride from the Kibbutz to the border. I am eternally grateful and offer him a place to stay anytime he decides to make aliyah to New York. ☺
Rosh Hanikra is beautiful and the water in the grottos is sky blue. I meet some kids from London, watch the information movie in Spanish (then again in English), and watch the workers there prepare for a wedding that will be happening there later that night (cool!).
Finally, at 6 o’clock. I am ready to go. Train from R.H. back to Naharriya. Train from Naharriya to Tel Aviv. On the train the woman across from me takes out a piece of paper and writes: “Our future is bright…” I ask her if she is preparing her wedding vows but it turns out that she is a nursery school teacher at an English and Hebrew speaking school. So, I help her compose an end of the year poem in English for her students. Tel Aviv sherut back to Jerusalem. It has been an adventurous, tiresome, and eventful day. I walk in the door completely exhausted at 9:30 and collapse on my bed in my clothes. Almost simultaneously - the wooden slats give out and the bed collapses beneath me.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Some ruminations about living in Israel
Margarita Mix is impossible to find. I've looked everywhere (I am having a small get together on Wednesday) and it's not at the market, the shuk, the makolet, the liquor store or the grocery store. Also finding fruits not in season is difficult. Like strawberries, blueberries and pineapple. I miss you strawberries during summertime. You are a yummy treat.
Also there's no Grape Jelly. I've found every flavor of jam and eventually settled on some strawberry preserve but why no grape jelly? They have Skippy peanut butter but no Smucker's? Grrr.
The bed that I sleep on in the apartment sits on a wobbly shabbily put together Ikea frame. Every time I sit or accidentally lean on the left side of the bed; 3/4 down- five of the wooden slats that hold the bed in place fall out. Every night I crawl underneath the bed to put them back in place and then ever so carefully slither back into bed and pray that they don't fall out again while I am sleeping. Curse you Ikea and your frozen meatballs too!
Also this the first building I've ever lived in with no front door. Apparently the crime rate in Israel must be low because no one seems concerned by this serious breach of security protocol. But it doesn't seem like there's much to steal in the apartment anyway- unless the lurking burglar is in need of a haphazardly made bed frame.
An apology: To the Orthodox girl in my class who was hacking and coughing- and so I slapped you on the back in that 1950's doctor kind of way because I didn't want you to die- only to have you spin around and sternly say "Don't touch me; I'm Shomer N'giah! {Jewish tradition where women aren't allowed any physical contact with men and vice versa) I am sorry; next time I will think twice before attempting to save your life.
Why do the cab drivers feel the need to rip off the American tourists so badly? Last saturday we took a cab to the Israel Museum to save some time to our day - I wasn't paying attention and forgot to tell the cab driver to turn the meter on. When we got to the museum which was less than one mile away - it was $12! WTF!
Israelis need to learn to wait in line. Many are pushy and rude and have very few manners. When the bus comes in the afternoon or at the market-there is a mad rush to the door. When my parent were at the Shuk they were waiting for the bus but then couldn't get on it because all the locals bumrushed the doors when it pulled to the curb. I am convinced that this is why there are no theme parks in Israel. Someone must have opened a Six Flags once with a "Line Cutters will be Ejected from Park" sign hanging at the entrance - but by lunch time there weren't any customers left.
Speaking of: To the woman that cut in front of me at Super Pharm the other day because I was waiting for the old man to finish receiving his meds before I asked the pharmacist for the Immodium (because everything from Advil to Pepto is behind the pharmacy counter!) and you cut in front of me waving your prescription paper in the air and I stuck my arm out in front of you and said "Slicha {excuse me} I was here before you" and you pretended not to know any English even though you damn well understood what I said - Back the fuck up - I'm ordering important drugs here.
Living in NYC I have become a very spoiled foodie. Israel is not the place to expect good Italian food, Indian food, Spanish food, Mexican food (well really any Mexican food - when I asked one cab driver where the closest Mexcian restaurant was he replied "mexican food too much like Arab food") Thai food, Chinese food, or sushi. Hummus they do well, pita- yum, spices and babaganoush- check. But marinara sauce or mango chutney? Steer clear. And a Chicken parm sandwich? Definitely not in this town.
Which brings us to the cheeses. Every menu just lists cheeses by color and not by type. "Such and such with yellow cheese" or "Salad with white cheese" - But how am I supposed to know whether it's goat or feta (no- they're not the same btw) swiss or american (scratch that-they def. don't have american here) mozzarella or cheddar.. you get the idea. Just list the damn cheeses on the menu.
And finally, seriously, what's the deal with the cats? There are cats in every nook corner and crevice of this country. There are cats on the balconies, in the streets, in the old city, by the Kotel, in the parks (which smell like cat pee), under the cars, in the trees. At times, I think that there are more cats than Jews. And the kids who are petting those cats...gross! I am not nor ever will be a cat person (Sorry Manders but you already knew). Someone said to me last week "Well, Israel used to have a big mouse problem so now they've traded it in for a cat problem." No fear - I have come up with a solution: Lions. I think if you put lions in the places where the mice and/or cats were- you could solve both problems the feline and the murine (of or relating to mice/rats - I had to look it up too). Also- added bonus - keep out unwanted Kotel visitors or better yet Western Wall tunnel tours led by Siegfried and Roy. The possibilities are endless. I will write a letter to Netanyahu (Israeli PM) tomorrow. Surely, he will agree with such wisdom.
Also there's no Grape Jelly. I've found every flavor of jam and eventually settled on some strawberry preserve but why no grape jelly? They have Skippy peanut butter but no Smucker's? Grrr.
The bed that I sleep on in the apartment sits on a wobbly shabbily put together Ikea frame. Every time I sit or accidentally lean on the left side of the bed; 3/4 down- five of the wooden slats that hold the bed in place fall out. Every night I crawl underneath the bed to put them back in place and then ever so carefully slither back into bed and pray that they don't fall out again while I am sleeping. Curse you Ikea and your frozen meatballs too!
Also this the first building I've ever lived in with no front door. Apparently the crime rate in Israel must be low because no one seems concerned by this serious breach of security protocol. But it doesn't seem like there's much to steal in the apartment anyway- unless the lurking burglar is in need of a haphazardly made bed frame.
An apology: To the Orthodox girl in my class who was hacking and coughing- and so I slapped you on the back in that 1950's doctor kind of way because I didn't want you to die- only to have you spin around and sternly say "Don't touch me; I'm Shomer N'giah! {Jewish tradition where women aren't allowed any physical contact with men and vice versa) I am sorry; next time I will think twice before attempting to save your life.
Why do the cab drivers feel the need to rip off the American tourists so badly? Last saturday we took a cab to the Israel Museum to save some time to our day - I wasn't paying attention and forgot to tell the cab driver to turn the meter on. When we got to the museum which was less than one mile away - it was $12! WTF!
Israelis need to learn to wait in line. Many are pushy and rude and have very few manners. When the bus comes in the afternoon or at the market-there is a mad rush to the door. When my parent were at the Shuk they were waiting for the bus but then couldn't get on it because all the locals bumrushed the doors when it pulled to the curb. I am convinced that this is why there are no theme parks in Israel. Someone must have opened a Six Flags once with a "Line Cutters will be Ejected from Park" sign hanging at the entrance - but by lunch time there weren't any customers left.
Speaking of: To the woman that cut in front of me at Super Pharm the other day because I was waiting for the old man to finish receiving his meds before I asked the pharmacist for the Immodium (because everything from Advil to Pepto is behind the pharmacy counter!) and you cut in front of me waving your prescription paper in the air and I stuck my arm out in front of you and said "Slicha {excuse me} I was here before you" and you pretended not to know any English even though you damn well understood what I said - Back the fuck up - I'm ordering important drugs here.
Living in NYC I have become a very spoiled foodie. Israel is not the place to expect good Italian food, Indian food, Spanish food, Mexican food (well really any Mexican food - when I asked one cab driver where the closest Mexcian restaurant was he replied "mexican food too much like Arab food") Thai food, Chinese food, or sushi. Hummus they do well, pita- yum, spices and babaganoush- check. But marinara sauce or mango chutney? Steer clear. And a Chicken parm sandwich? Definitely not in this town.
Which brings us to the cheeses. Every menu just lists cheeses by color and not by type. "Such and such with yellow cheese" or "Salad with white cheese" - But how am I supposed to know whether it's goat or feta (no- they're not the same btw) swiss or american (scratch that-they def. don't have american here) mozzarella or cheddar.. you get the idea. Just list the damn cheeses on the menu.
And finally, seriously, what's the deal with the cats? There are cats in every nook corner and crevice of this country. There are cats on the balconies, in the streets, in the old city, by the Kotel, in the parks (which smell like cat pee), under the cars, in the trees. At times, I think that there are more cats than Jews. And the kids who are petting those cats...gross! I am not nor ever will be a cat person (Sorry Manders but you already knew). Someone said to me last week "Well, Israel used to have a big mouse problem so now they've traded it in for a cat problem." No fear - I have come up with a solution: Lions. I think if you put lions in the places where the mice and/or cats were- you could solve both problems the feline and the murine (of or relating to mice/rats - I had to look it up too). Also- added bonus - keep out unwanted Kotel visitors or better yet Western Wall tunnel tours led by Siegfried and Roy. The possibilities are endless. I will write a letter to Netanyahu (Israeli PM) tomorrow. Surely, he will agree with such wisdom.
Living Abroad
You learn some things about yourself when living abroad. Recently I have discovered that I yearn and crave the comforts of America much more than I thought I would. Today I found the Makolet (Bodega/small grocery store- my Hebrew is improving word by word) with a plethora of American staples. And even though I probably wouldn't buy Gatorade Dr. Pepper Milano coookies Corona and Herr's tortilla chips on a regular trip to Shop Rite (ok. well maybe those last 2) when I find them here I feel some sort of inner zen and calm knowing that the ingredients are listed in English and that I am familiar with such items. Of course I've always found something relaxing and enjoyable about grocery shopping and perhaps this plays a small part.
But I also find that it's something that bonds people and communities. On Friday night at the excellent Shabbat dinner I was at -at my new friends Keren and Hillel- eventually the conversation turned towards Wegman's (no- I didn't steer it there) which makes me think that it is the little things that sometimes make the biggest difference.
So if it was ten shekels for an Arizona Iced Tea or much more for a pint of Ben and Jerry's - the ability to justify such a purchase to oneself is immensely easier 3000 miles outside your own zip code. I am saving the Gatorade for a special occasion. I guarantee it will be the best tasting quench thirsting Fruit Punch ever.
But I also find that it's something that bonds people and communities. On Friday night at the excellent Shabbat dinner I was at -at my new friends Keren and Hillel- eventually the conversation turned towards Wegman's (no- I didn't steer it there) which makes me think that it is the little things that sometimes make the biggest difference.
So if it was ten shekels for an Arizona Iced Tea or much more for a pint of Ben and Jerry's - the ability to justify such a purchase to oneself is immensely easier 3000 miles outside your own zip code. I am saving the Gatorade for a special occasion. I guarantee it will be the best tasting quench thirsting Fruit Punch ever.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Israel by the numbers
Israel by the numbers:
Days in Israel so far: 16
Number of times I've watched Party of Five on Israeli TV: 5
Episodes of Everwood: 2
Cost of one small bottle of Listerine: $10 (40 shekels!)
Days it took me to find a grocery store with taco mix and tortillas - 8
Number of times I've cooked tacos - 0
Consecutive days I've had an upset stomach: 16 :(
Days remaining where I will eat Hummus or drink tap water: 0
# of times I've been mistaken for Israeli: 11
# of times I've been mistaken for Moroccan: 1
Days left in Israel and/or traveling abroad: 30 (woohoo!)
Days in Israel so far: 16
Number of times I've watched Party of Five on Israeli TV: 5
Episodes of Everwood: 2
Cost of one small bottle of Listerine: $10 (40 shekels!)
Days it took me to find a grocery store with taco mix and tortillas - 8
Number of times I've cooked tacos - 0
Consecutive days I've had an upset stomach: 16 :(
Days remaining where I will eat Hummus or drink tap water: 0
# of times I've been mistaken for Israeli: 11
# of times I've been mistaken for Moroccan: 1
Days left in Israel and/or traveling abroad: 30 (woohoo!)
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