(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 some of the normal keys have been replaced by funny lookıng Turkısh letters-hence why my 'ı's have no dots.)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)
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