Bar Rafaeli is getting married & Israel does not care, except it does & other Israeli things

Things you might not know or expect about Israel that I've learned from my first month in the country:

1) Israelis hate broccoli with a vengeance. This is because in American movies broccoli was said to be disgusting, so as a nation everyone stopped eating it and now you can't even find it in grocery stores. They also think zucchini is weird. 

2) To avoid the cost of traffic lights, roads have traffic circles. They're everywhere and really annoying. And even though they're everywhere, cars still randomly stop or slow down in the middle of them. 

3) Ketchup is a way of life. Especially in the north of Israel ketchup goes on everything. Especially pizza. 

4) "Waterslide" is actually a giant pipe you can float the current through. 

5) Lines or queues are an inconvenience. Israelis do not accept the concept of forming lines. They just walk to the front, or right up to the cash register. 

6) Bar Rafaeli, the Israeli supermodel got married last weekend. Everyone had thoughts and opinions on the guy she was marrying and seemed to feel that in the looks department, she could do better, but hey, he's a millionaire, so we get it. Bar Rafaeli apparently has the sway to control the airspace in Israel. She requested Israel's Civil Aviation Authority close the airspace above the wedding so no paparazzi could take photos. Much to the disdain of the Minister of Transportation, I think they did it. 

7) Cats are not pets, they are a menace. Especially in Beit She'an, where there more cats than anywhere else I've traveled and they're all emancipated. They don't have a long life span; we see many dead on the side of the road. 

8) Asking for someone to pass you a dish or saying "please" and "thank you" when you want something is not common place. At the dinner table you really just reach and grab whatever you can get your hands on. 

9) HaShahar is a chocolate spread that most Israelis believe is better than Nutella. I don't think it is. 

10) Schitzel is actually enjoyed here. I don't know how it's possible since I feel that it's a sad fate for food products to become, but they freely make it and even serve it at restaurants and many willingly chose to eat it. 

11) Israeli drivers. Oh my. Well, you feel really alive as you tailgate to the point of almost being in another persons car as you wait for the chance to pass and go 140km/hr over local roads. 

The Tale of the Israeli Field Trip

Field trips - those were the best school days, right? It was a freebie; an excuse from the doldrums of repetitive lessons and the mundane. Instead, the minute you arrived at school in the morning, the energy was palpable. You and your class climbed onto a yellow school bus, sat with your best friend, made faces at the cars that passed below you as a cantankerous bus driver careened over twisting and turning roads until you arrived at the museum, theatre or park that you were scheduled to spend the day exploring. Your teacher ticked off names as you climbed from the bus so excited for the change in scenery and endless possibilities that came with it. Things were organized, thought-out, scheduled and cloaked underneath the fun, you came away having learned something new! 

At least that's how I remember the experiences of going to see Frog and Toad at the Flynn Theatre or going to the ECHO Center in Burlington, VT. 

To go on a field trip with an Israeli Elementary school, you should probably throw your foundation in Western field trip practices out the window. Actually, while you do that, just throw all reason out the window. It will not help. You will just waste time grappling to make sense of the madness. It's better to just lean in and become part of it! 

I found out I was going on a field trip with Gilboa School only the night before. Naturally, I tried to figure out where we were going and what we'd be doing - very vital and truly basic things to know for this adventure - but my coordinator merely told me that "you're going to the hills near Tiberius. Pack a lunch."  

Good god, again with the hills and these people! 

At this point I've pieced together that the mention of hills means that water will likely be a present element, but beyond that, it could really be any sort variation. So not only was I to be prepared for anything from 5 inches to 5 feet of water but I also needed to find a way to dress as an authoritative teacher-like figure. 

So sure, no problem. 

When morning rolled around I had on a nice pair of cropped outdoorsy pants (thank you Aunt Judy!) a tank top, sandals and a back-up pair of water shoes in my bag; I had also packed myself a homemade stirfry, fresh mango and yogurt for snack and lunch. I hopped on my bike at 7:30am, picked up an iced café from the gas station en route and rode through town to the school; stashed my bike with Shimon the security guard and walked into the teacher's lounge feeling pretty good about myself. 

This was a mistake. 

I very clearly did not have a handle on what is going on. I said a couple boker tovs to the other teachers who don't speak much English and just watched the scene unfold in front of me. There was money being collected and exchanged by the principle; one teacher was gathering toilet paper; the gym teacher was instructing students to fill up huge water bottles, and everyone else was just doing something to add to the general disorganized bedlam. I decided that the best course of action was to intently sip my iced café with renewed purpose! 

Yael, my gracious Virgil-like guide through the circles of Israeli public school, plus English speaking connection finally arrived. She didn't really know what actual destination we're planning to visit, but she's not concerned, so I shouldn't be either! 

We miraculously managed to get most of the school's 1st-6th graders onto the three buses waiting outside for us. One little girl who speaks English pretty well claims me as her own and plunks me down in the seat next to her and off we drive into the great blue yonder.  

We drive past the rows of date trees and meander over the desert until I can see the Sea of Galilee shining majestically blue in the distance! "We're going to the Sea of Galilee!!!" I say and begin to get excited. I've never been there before and it still blows my mind that I've gone from living in Vermont to being able to access locations of biblical importance; I can't wrap my mind around it being my norm. No one tells me that I'm wrong and all the little kids just nod and continue to ask me questions about my life in America and tell me that I'm as pretty as Bar Raffaeli (they're a smooth talking bunch, these Israeli kids. I've never been so complimented!) 

A short while later, all three buses park and the kids burst off the buses with renewed energy followed by slightly frazzled teachers. We descend upon a large field area punctuated with the occasional tree and weirdly everyone knows it's time to eat. The students and teachers gravitate towards the shade cast from the trees and sit down to eat their snacks.

I've by now, gathered a retinue of the students who are good English speakers, much to the dismay of the little girl, Ofri who claimed me on the bus and apparently does not want to share me. She's told me by this point, that she never wants to leave me and she loves me, all within an hour of being introduced. Were this a first date, I would've played the bathroom card and been making a run for it. But it's a little girl who doesn't entirely have the concept of compromise figured out and loves the shinning unstoppable feeling of being able to communicate with the foreigner and the attention and power it brings. The kids are energetic little sociopaths, but they're relatable and it's easy to tell how much attention they crave and thrive from.

Snack/lunch time or whatever it was, eventually concludes and we gather into small class groups, where some random guys in uniform shirts, who seem to be a sort of park ranger-y, nature nerd meets entry-level rabbi hand out to everyone a random puzzle for us all to solve. I guess that we solved it, but no one informed me what the answer was. Then we all stand up and leave the park to walk through some relatively nice surburban neighborhoods, over a random hill made up of dirt and finally into a toxic looking swamp. 

We're walking merrily along and a little boy named Ido is telling me about how his sister killed someone while she was in the army and was then wounded, when we all suddenly stop and convene around one swampy, greenish pool. Ido tells me that the ranger-rabbi wants us to gather pebbles and put them into our pockets. We do. Then we say a prayer and throw the pebbles into the noxious-looking cesspool in front of us. The ritual is meant to symbolically mimic taking the sins that are weighing us down and casting them from us to honor Yom Kippur. 

The trip continues to be Albert Camus' existential wet dream as we continue through a series of ambiguous and nonsensical tableaux. 

Next, we walk past an old shirtless man wielding a sycthe and really hacking away at the reeds in front of him. No one thinks this is weird or asks why this is happening as we walk by.  

The school kids gather in front of a giant well that seems to be full of trash and stare into it for a while at the bequest of rabbi-ranger. Then apparently lighter from throwing their pebble-problems into an environmental hazard, everyone turns away and climbs back onto the buses without any explanation. 

Our next destination is the closest I get to the Sea of Galilee. We pull up to a well-kept cemetery and all get out to sit under an enclose where we have another spontaneous snack and water break. We have the ranger-rabbi in tow and he seemingly explains something that makes a lot of sense to everyone but me. Then everyone walked off to look at the graves and said prayers if they wished. I never figured out who's grave we were visiting. The closest I got to figuring out what was going on was "it's a woman author who died" - vague, yet unconcerned. We got back on the bus. 

I could recognize where we went next as we entered the city of Tiberias, perched on the edge of the Kineret and Sea of Galilee. We drove past beaches and water parks, which gets the kids as well as me pretty hopeful that we're getting into the real meat of the so far extremely bizarre field trip. But no, that's not in the cards for us. 

Instead, we pull up to another cemetery - although this one is more of a shrine - that is much busier. Souvenir venders line the path up to a roofed area where all the action is. We're separated by males and females and I have to grab a scarf to cover my shoulders. The space we entered was covered walll go wall with pamphlets in Hebrew and there are bibles up for grabs everywhere, but nothing else is in the room. I guess this is Rabbi Rambam's resting place, but I have no idea who he was, or why he was important. What is important to the kids is buying all the ice cream and cheap jewkery they can; one little girl even presents me with a bracelet before I can decline! 

Another silent cue goes through the students and teachers and it seemed to be time for actual lunch! Sandwiches for the whole student body are passed out (I guess that's what the money was for) and everyone finds a spot to sit and contently eat. I eat with a little girl who tells me that "you're a mystery, Hannah! I want to know you more!" So through broken English I try to tell her about where I'm from, my family and pets over my stirfry. 

Then, as quickly as it began, the trip seems to come to an end. We all climb back onto the bus and head home. On the bus, the driver turns up the Israeli music and the kids dance and contort their way back to Beit She'an. 

So that's it, that's all of the Israeli field trip! I'm not sure what we learned and I'm not sure what it added to our lives. Generally, I'm still reeling from the details of the experience since it just felt so random and bizarre. But I hope the story was generally entertaining and you all came away from it as mystified and eager to see more as I was! 

Things My Israeli Students Have Said To Me

They're too cute not to share: 

Teacher: "Can you tell me English words that start with S?" 

Student 1: "Snake!"

Student 2: "Sand!"

Kid Who Knows What's Up: (whispers hopefully) "Star Wars!"

A 5th Grade Girl To Me: "I like your hair. It's ombré!"

In the 4th grade English class, the teacher is having the students wordlessly act out English letters and have their classmates call out guesses to which one they are. One little boy is so excited to volunteer that he's jumping up and down and waving his arms around! When he finally gets up to the front of the room, he faces the poster of the English alphabet, settles on a letter and the turns to face the class. Then he throws himself backwards and falls to the floor!

English teacher: (turns to me and whispers) "He's the letter "i". You know like "Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!"  

Another 5th Grade Girl: "What's your phone number?" 

Little Girl: "Are you from Holland?"

6th Grade Girl: "Where do you live?"

Hannah: "In America? I live in Vermont!"

Girl: "No. Here!"

Hannah: "I live in Beit She'an now!"

Girl: "Where!?"

Hannah: "Near the city center."

Girl: "No, what is your address!!!?"

My students would reallllllllllllly like to get in touch and stay in touch with me. Luckily, I do not have an Israeli number yet, nor actually know my address off the top of my head, or even know how to pronounce it. If I knew either and gave them out, I would easily have students messaging me on What's-App or even showing up and walking right into our house. This actually happened a couple days ago with one of my roommates after she began teaching at one of the local religious schools. She happened to be away over the weekend, so when two of her little students just let themselves into our house, she was not there. Instead myself and a different roommate were lounging around with our feet up on the couches in various states of gym clothes looking pretty unprofessional - more like college kids than English teachers. The last thing we expected were two Israeli girls to suddenly be in our living room, but they walked right in looking for their teacher!!! 

Teacher: "Can you tell me English words that start with W?" 

 Little Boy in the Back of Class: "WWE!!!!!!"

[Professional wrestling]

And my personal favourite at the moment:

Little 6th Grade Boy, trying to tell me that he has a little dog at home, but forgetting the word for dog: "I have a little bitch!"

*P.S. There may be a quite a few spelling errors in this post. I spend most of my day speaking to people in a user-friendly broken English, or using the Israeli "ayyyyyyyyhhhhhhh" to fill up space as I try to think of the right way to phrase a sentence so I can be understood. It eventually begins to effect your thinking and writing too!

L'Shana Tova

It's the Jewish New Year, so it's a time to reflect on the past year and the ambitions you hold for the future....orrrrrr completely over indulge yourself in excessive feasting and use the seemingly endless time off from work to play! 

I spend Shabbat and the Jewish holidays with my host family the Levis: Davide, Gilah, Na-Or, Maya, Hila and their little dog Tail-le.  They are charged with giving me an authentic Israeli experience for the holidays and they more than delivered on it. They took me with them to both their maternal and paternal family's Rosh Hashanah celebrations.

As someone who grew up around mainly Ashkenazi influenced Jews - if I was around any Jews at all - the Sephardic Moroccan exposure has been completely new. Their food and attitude is colorful, vibrant and full-flavored. You can think of Ashkenazi food as a study in shades of grey: gafillta fish, kugel, latkas - relatively delicious, although gafillta fish takes a certain level of sociopath to enjoy - but really all are on the same palate of color. 

Moroccan food is made up of tasty salads; tanzia - a honeyed mixture of dried apricots, currants and raisins over rice; couscous smothered in chickpeas, sweet potatoes and onions; stuffed peppers, onions and cabbage; shakshuka - sautéed onions, garlic and tomatoes with eggs fried into it; fresh homemade bread; variances in eggplant-- and that's only the vegetarian options! It's rounded out by Moroccan shortbread cookies with anise, almond cake, crepe-like mouffleta with chocolate spread, maple syrup, butter or honey and of course, sugared mint tea.

Trust me, it's as delicious as it sounds and I know because I've tried my best to cram as much as physically possible into my body.  This has had mixed results - as a person who is not exactly used to the pursuit of rich, decadent, full-bodied meals and more focused on living a very balanced lifestyle with healthy foods and ample exercise, this turned out to cause some difficulties. Most of the Israeli foods are healthy, but they do not skimp on rich, indulgent ingredients. And likely eating them at the volume and frequency that I did this past weekend was probably not the greatest idea ever. 

So it's been a challenge that I was not expecting. I definitely did not intend to use the Israeli holidays as a study in the extent of my own sloth and gluttony and I'm sure the ancient rabbis did not intend for a time of contemplation to be used to delve deep into my own food driven-hedonistic vices, but that's what I did.  It was an exploration of just how far I could go in attempting to experience new foods inspired by "food FOMO" (Fear Of Missing Out) for everything that was described as "a Moroccan specialty" or "she spent all day cooking this". 

An empty plate and the declaration that "I am full" is not a part of the Moroccan mindset.  I tried to wave the white flag and admit defeat after I realized that trying to eat this way wasn't sustainable and my stomach couldn't expand enough to keep up with it, but my empty plate symbolized that I apparently had not enjoyed my meal, so it was at times filled for me. I had barely digested from the meal the night before that we were eating a full-fledged lunch the following day! It actually began to feel overwhelming and that I just couldn't not gain a foot hold among the constant deluge of tasty foods and kind, smiling grandmothers. When I finally reached that point that my body no longer felt like my own and the heartburn was real, I had to thrown in the towel and request and night off. 

Spending a night in with only water to sip as I waited for my bloating to go down, turned out to be a great choice since there was a lot more of the weekend to come.  

Intermittently with the family meals, the Levi's would pack up their van with a "simple" Moroccan picnic (a lot of times Israelis use one word, while they mean the exact opposite. Like "water slide" when they mean drainage pipe - still my favorite example!) and head out into the the valley of springs to soak up the best of what's around. 

The Sachne in all its glory

On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, we went to the Sachne, a natural springs that look so perfect that you call its existence into question. As you walk towards the pools, purple-winged butterflies flit by you and a lazy dragonfly dips down to skim the azure waters. It looks like a 1950s movie set of an oasis in which the set coordinator did no research and just idealized what an oasis must look like--but that's the Sachne, for real. 

Enjoying the waterfalls

The whole group

We spent a relaxing day by the aquamarine waters, where we floated and splashed on an air mattress, let little fish nibble our feet, went for a walk to see the waterfalls and picked fresh figs from close growing trees. 

Since my life is now in the suspended reality that is Israeli, the weekend didn't stop there. Once I had recovered from my octogenarian food babies, the Levi's picked me up for a "hike in the fields" and once again, that meant the exact opposite. You just have to expect the unexpected with Israelis and cross your fingers that you're wearing the right shoes. 

This time, it meant that we drove to a moshevez, a sort of gated community-living situation that stops short of going all the way to bring a kibbutz, where I was introduced to Yaqui, his wife Kineret and their son Or and daughter Adom. 

In his little corner of the Sea of Galilee, Yaqui has perfected the art of man-cave. He loves all things with engines, so he created the ultimate garage devoted to his passion, with everything from shelves to house his collection of toy trucks to motorcycle, dirt bikes and amped up trucks. Yaqui also happened to have in his possession almost a whole fleet of 4x4s at his disposal. Apparently, "hike in the fields" meant we're going off-roading!!

Rugged and customized truck

Motorcycle and dirt bike

Yaqui's rows of collectible toys

We loaded up a truck with everything necessary for a Moroccan picnic, then everyone climbed into a dune buggy, or truck if they wanted a gentler ride to start. A neighboring family and their kids joined us. Their young son had his own 4x4, which like a good teenage boy he drove with reckless abandon while blasting Israeli music and wearing ski goggles to keep the dust out of his eyes. 

Taking a turn in the driver's seat

Our convoy headed out to traverse the rocky paths of the Kineret under the sun for the next couple of hours! It was honestly dreamlike to be bumping and bouncing in the backseat of a 4x4 between the Sea of Galilee and the Jordanian border. Just two weeks, I was scared to leave my known world behind and a month ago, I was sitting in a desk chair trying to get signatures on an endless pile of inane paperwork.  So to suddenly find myself involved in a world of action and experiences does not seem real! I did not know that my life could be this interesting! I tried to soak up the moment and simply be as present as possible to enjoy it. 

Evidence of the dust

The ATVs kicked up A TON of dust as they sped over the trails, in almost no time, I was completely covered with streaks of red-brown dirt all over my skin, clothes and hair. I pretty much looked like I had changed colors and Gilah joked that I looked Moroccan! 

Once we had spent a few hours doing some badass maneuvers on the back roads, as well as crossing back and forth through the Jordan River, we started to look for somewhere to picnic. Most places we drove by were swarming with tourists and their kids. They gawked at us, took pictures of the 4x4s and asked where we had gotten them. It felt very cool to be privilege to all this.

We finally found a removed spot for lunch and began to unpack the truck. Moroccans and Yaqui's family and friends naturally do not half-ass a picnic. They brought tables, blankets, frying pans and propane into the forest with us. So before long, we had a table packed with food, omelet station manned by Davide, himself and the makings of shakshuka, which I was helping to sous chef! 

Lunch spread

Omelet station

Another splendid meal followed, coupled with pleasant conversation, before we packed all the materials up into the truck and hit the roads for part deux of off-roading.

                                  

Helping to make some shaksuka the woods

The rest of the afternoon passed with rocky, winding road, some close calls with mud and hydration breaks with cookies before returning to the man-cave and unpacking and relaxing. 

I can now check 4x4-ing off my bucket list! There's a couple more items on there that I think are in contention to finally be achieved, so stay tuned since the Israeli holidays aren't over yet and the Levis seem to be very adept at making the best of living in Beit She'an and taking me along for the ride!

Shot of the whole group

Sandstorm 2015

Yesterday (8/9/2015) I experienced Israel's thickest dust storm in 15 years (boom, phrasing). 

Winds picked up sand in Syria and then whipped the dust and sand down into Israel. It's crazy to think that these locations that were once extremely far from me, now effect the weather that I experience! 

As the day went on visibility dropped down to around 20 feet, the air smelled burnt and the sun was completely blotted out. Cars had to use their windshield wipers to clear the heavy dust from their windshield in order to drive. Running was out of the question, it was heavily encouraged that we stay inside and drink lots of water. 

Today, Wednesday, the dust is lighter and I can see the outline of the sun, but it really looks like we're on an alien planet, like Tatooine. 

It was such an amazing and profound natural phenomena to experience that I took a lot of pictures as did my roommate Jessica, so I collected some of them to detail the experience!  

My roommates and I commenerated the event by going to our rooftop to get a good view and then danced to Darude's Sandstorm, a techno song of the late 2000's played at many a school dance, which seemed to fit the momentous occasion! :) So that basically is how I survived the Israeli sandstorm of 2015! 

First Days, Part 2

My little home in Beit She'an is the bottom story of a three story building.  Inside and down a short hallway, you will see a spacious living room, adjoining dining room and a well-sized kitchen, which when we arrived was generously stocked with all sorts of Israeli goodies that the community assembled for us!  

Home sweet home!

There are four bedrooms for the five of us fellows and it worked out that both girls have their own rooms - mine has a connecting bathroom, which is both the bane of my existence as well as a confidence booster. The bathroom has the unique benefit of being able to offer its user the chance to use the toilet at the same time as showering!  The shower is one of those handheld contraptions, so anytime I want to put shampoo or conditioner in my hair, I have to find somewhere to balance the shower head, or change the water to come out of the tap instead of the shower head.  So this has been an art to master since it's VERY difficult not to a) flood the entire bathroom space, b) get everything wet or c) a combination of a) and b) and then slip and die upon completion of your shower. 

Jessica, the other girl that I live with and I share the bathroom, which does mean that she has to go through my room to get to the bathroom.  It hasn't been a problem and I really haven't minded or been inconvenienced by it at all.  The girls' bathroom shares a wall with the boys' bathroom, and it's very, very thin so if someone is in both at the same time, there's a good likeliness that one can overhear the other.  This has provided the boys' side with a slew of entertainment like screaming when the water suddenly turns from cold to hot, show tunes being sung and swearing.  

Each time, we're a little bit better at using the shower, so it does provide a constant challenge that gives you a little bit of encouragement each time you get more adjusted to using it.  It is very small, always a little damp and has the possibility to have more mold in it than we really want to come to terms with, but if I wanted a modern bathroom, I wouldn't be here, so it comes with the territory I guess!

That's the thing that makes Beit She'an really unique - we are for the most part "roughing it". Beit She'an is off the beaten path, it's removed, a little isolated, in the process of aging or growing (I can't tell which way it's going sometimes, so possibly both simultaneously) and requires us to expect the unexpected and approach things with lowered expectations, or no expectations at all.  

This past weekend, the five of us went to a retreat in the Golan Heights where we met up with other Masa Tlalim (the name of my program) ITF groups from Netanya [North of Tel Aviv] and Beer Sheva [in the Southern, middle of the country].  The two other groups were 22 and 18 people respectively; they were also made up of mostly girls who were around 21 or 22, whereas my group is 24 and up.  

Look out from the Kibbutz over the Golan Heights

At first it was very intimidating to encounter these huge groups since my group is primarily introspective introverts, or those who are uncomfortable in big groups.  Over our first four days after the Beit She'an fellows arrived in Israel, we all bonded quickly, found we had a lot of common interests and began to feel very comfortable with each other.  So whereas we were all had a good idea of what each of us were all about, the other groups were a blank and intimidating slate. 

The weekend retreat kicked off with a group "kayak"; Israeli for "kayak" actually seems to refer to a "raft".  It's the same way that "water hike" means "most of your body will be submerged in water, so wear water shoes" and "waterslide" means "man-sized drainage pipe that goes under a road that you can catch a ride through" to Israelis.  You really need to read between the lines with them or ask a lot of direct questions to actually get a handle on what's going on.  And even then, you might not get a straight answer.

Sunset over the Golan at the Kibbutz

Our rafting trip paired people up in groups of 2 or 4 to negate the perilous waters of the Jordan River - I'm being sarcastic here, this section of the Jordan River was extremely lazy and meandering, with literally just one itty-bitty rapid the entire hour long raft.  The most dangerous part was actually the rafts full of Israelis who are floating mostly sideways, backwards and extremely slowly with little ability or care to change their course.  They jeer and splash at you as you paddle by - especially if you're a raft with a blonde and red-headed girls who are paddling with skill, which Jessica and I certainly were. We wound up getting way ahead of the group and questioned whether we had paddled into Jordan since it had been a while since we'd passed anyone who spoke English, before we reached the finish spot.  It turned out that we were the second raft to finish and the first boat of girls, the rest of the Beit She'an group quickly followed our lead.  I think through this, we gained a reputation for being a little bit competitive, but competent in outdoors pursuit, as well as an enigma to the rest of the groups since there were only 5 of us.    

Your regular Kibbutz peacock

We spent our next days and nights in a kibbutz in the Golan that felt extremely luxurious with comfortable beds and shower heads that attached to the wall.  It was heaven.  The weekend itinerary included Shabbat activities, team bonding exercises, relaxing by the pool, eating falafel, hummus and cucumber salad and lectures.  It culminated in a hike, a visit and lunch in a Druze village up near the Syrian boarder and then visiting an outlook that gave us a view overlooking Syria.  

Nighttime light show and tour of the Archaeological Park in Beit She'an

When it finally came time to return to Beit She'an we were all really excited and almost relieved to return to our scorching hot, rural and removed little town. Really, nothing comes to close to how wholesome and genuine the experience is to live here.  No other town offers a full immersion into the community and lifestyle like Beit She'an.  The natural beauty of the region is unparalleled; there's natural springs that flow from the ground and the ruins of Greek and Roman cities that are just a couple of blocks from my doorstep!
  


Every person that we meet are so happy and thankful for us all to be here and involved in teaching and working within the community.  They know that we left our lives and families thousands of miles away to come here and do something different and have an impact.  They value it from the bottom of their hearts and make every palpable effort to make us feel a part of things here.  Everyone is hospitable, open and wants to help and support us in any way that we need.  

On our way back to Beit She'an, I found out that I had been assigned a host family that wanted me to come over for dinner.  The lovely Levi family welcomed me into their home, introduced me to their children as well as their little dog, fed me pizza and spent the evening getting to know me - this took a huge effort on their part since I speak absolutely no Hebrew and they kindly spoke to me in English. The family has roots in Morocco, so there were homemade delicious Moroccan cookies and tea to follow the meal.  

My host sisters, Hila and Maya. 

They treated me so selflessly and opened their arms to welcome me like a daughter! Maya and Hila, are 12 years old and twin sisters, who gave me lots of hugs and told me about how happy they were for me to be here and how excited they were to have me as a sister and that they can't wait to spend more time with me.

Gilah's famous Moroccan treats!

It's impossible not to pick up on the spirit of the area and immerse yourself into the community.  On top of teaching English in the classroom, I also expect to undertake a community project which could be anything from giving tours at the Archaeological park, to planning community events in the library.  Since Dudu, my host dad, is a volunteer at the Archaeological Park, I am hoping that it gives me a leg-up to be able to offer tours of the ancient city of Scythopolis.  

It does not yet seem real that this is my life and even writing about it is such an out-of-body experience, yet I feel pretty well adjusted to spending my days interacting with new people in a foreign place. Writing about it makes it seem even less real and more like a story that I weave together of snippets of dreams and desires that I've always wanted to achieve for myself.  In The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho refers to something called a Personal Legend as "It's what you have always wanted to accomplish.  Everyone, when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is.  At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible.  They are not afraid to dream and to yearn for everything they would like to see happen to them in their lives."  [I'm slowly re-reading The Alchemist right now]

I certainly feel like I am accomplishing an aspect of my Personal Legend and it's amazing how right and easy it feels to be able to do that.  All the doors open and right things happen as if I am really meant to be here.  Right now, I do not for a moment regret quitting my job and spending my days dripping in sweat the moment I go outside if it means being exactly where I am at this moment.

So there's a little snapshot of my life in Beit She'an.  It has NOT settled down into a routine one bit.  This second week is still full of adjustment, exposure and new experiences.  I begin teaching on Wednesday, 9/9 and I'm very nervous. 

Send me good luck, email or comment on the blog page if you have any questions and I will try to return your messages!  Another random aspect of Israeli life is that there's a 50/50 chance that I have free wifi wherever I am going, so I can get service to check email and exchange iMessages with other iPhones as long as it's not impolite to whoever I am with.  I will eventually have an Israeli number and be more like a local!  

Thanks for reading!

Love,
Hannah

First Days, Part 1

A week has passed since I arrived in Israel and its been quite a whirlwind! 

From the moment I arrived, we have had a packed schedule with very little time to ourselves and I have had even less time to reflect over the fact that I've left my life in the States and popped myself right into life in Beit She'an.

Street crossing sign at the airport that features a rabbi.

First impressions of Beit She'an is that it is a small town of around 16,000 people, so bigger than both Burlington and Shelburne.  It is located along the path of the Great Rift Valley, which is also what the Dead Sea sits upon, so likewise, Beit She'an is below sea level, which makes it unyieldingly hot.  If you thought Florida, California, or even Texas was hot, you'd have nothing on Beit She'an.  "Welcome to the Inferno", said one of my fellow Americans.  It's a hazy, slightly humid hot from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm (19:00); there are typically no clouds in the sky, and the sun beats down and fries you without a care whether you are human or cat.

At night, you can look across to the East and see the lights of villages in Jordan around 3 kilometers away situated on top of the mountains.  During the day, if you hike up to Mount Gilboa in the West, you can see a glimpse of the West Bank.

Looking towards the West and the border with Jordan

These infamous presences don't feel threatening.  They're just entities existing along with us and filled with people like us who are just going about their days, maybe even vaguely noting that we're out there as well. 

If you stood from a vantage point on Mount Gilboa, you would see beneath you a patchwork quilt of fish farms spread out beneath you.  Yes, fish farms!  The Galilee region that Beit She'an pushes up against is a worldwide supplier of fish, so the area is decorated with large rectangular pools full of tuna and salmon, I think.  Somehow, in some Israeli sort of irony/devil-may-care attitude, they intermixed fish farming into the scorched earth of the area and there is rich, fertile production taking place here.  This is only supported by the other agriculture in the area, which includes row upon row of date trees and banana tree farms that stretch out for miles and miles.  

The most striking part of city life in Beit She'an that takes a lot of adjusting is the cat problem.  As my host sister explained, "Cats are like the squirrel of Beit She'an."  They sit menacingly on dumpsters, staring at you menacingly from on top of dumpsters as you walk by.  They are scarred and marked by how life is for cats in Beit She'an; they are marred from fights, encounters with jackals and diseases - missing parts of tails and even eyes.  Because of our proximity to Jordan, the cats have the ability to wander into a third world country where rabies is not controlled; therefore, there's a chance the cats have rabies and they definitely have fleas, so we cannot touch the cats.  In the yard that surrounds my home, we have a mother cat and her four kittens who live there. They're all very, very cute, but each is malnourished and suffering from some form of disease that is infecting their eyes, which they will likely go blind from.  It's hard to see and not do anything about.

Some of the kittens that seem to have made a home of our courtyard.  "One-Eyed Jack" is in the forefront.  

The city of Beit She'an itself is a jumble of crisscrossing streets, filled by one, or two story sand colored buildings.  Half of the city is being developed into new single family houses in modern suburban style and the other half was constructed maybe 15 to 20 years ago and hasn't been updated since, but it serves its purpose.  

The ITF House of Beit She'an is located in the older part of the city, that we joke is on the wrong side of town.  Our street is no masterpiece, it's filled with dry and dead grass and lots of trash; air conditioners from tightly packed-in houses protrude out from our neighbors nondescript houses. We have a bomb shelter on the end of our street.  But we are located in perfect proximity to nearly everything in the city.  Supermarkets, discount stores, liquor stores and favourite falafel spots are all around a 15-25 minute walk from us.  

Traversing the Skies on Russian Airplanes with Lots of Babies

So right off the bat, I learned two things from my flight out of New York to Baku, Azerbaijan. 1. Do not smile or show positive expressions. You will get none in return. And 2. Former Russian block countries do not give a shit. That lesson came from finding out that most of the flight's drink service stemmed from "self serve". One of the spaces that divided the cabins had a bar of sorts, which the flight attendants eventually just left out orange, apple, tomato juice, tea and water for passengers to serve themselves. This actually worked pretty smoothly...as it was a 10 hour flight many people were looking for the chance to move around or stand. The self serve drink station turned to a sort of arbitrary coffee shop, complete with a guy who looked like Larry David chatting with many people. Larry David actually turned out to be sitting behind me & we enjoyed a sunrise together.

The flight attendants were fine at passing out the inflight meals, but sort of let it go in regards to collecting the eaten meals. I guess Azerbaijan Air is a clear-your-own plate kind of airline, since we all seemed to eventually just bring our trays to the the same bar area that later served as the drink station. 

I'm not sure if this is just how it's done and the norm, or special for the flight made up of Azerbaij and Israelis. This was basically the makeup of my flight. I immediately stood out as possibly the only American on the flight who did not speak Russian of Hebrew, nor seem to have a personal connection to Azerbaijan or Israel and be blonde.

As for myself, I lucked out and was seated in the front seat of a cabin; I had the window seat in a row of two. My seat mate gave the impression of being Russian, but I admit, I do not know, as we never exchanged a word. He was a guy, probably close to my age, who seemed to have a cavalier attitude to seat belts and a petulance for computer games like checkers and Backgammon. He was extremely helpful as I struggled with my "pushing the boundaries" sized carry on and was quite polite & quiet. Most likely to him, it seemed like I didn't get out much because I couldn't find where my meal tray was stashed, nor my tv screen, that once I did find, I had to almost wrestle in and out of where it was stashed. I'm sure I provided endless entertainment. 

Across the aisle from me was more or less all the babies ever. I don't know how conscious they were of the air travel they were in the middle of, but they ranged from asleep and at ease with what was happening, to freaking the fuck out. So that was a treat. Luckily, the only music I have in my iTunes is Taylor Swift, so Tay got me through some challenging moments as well as providing the soundtrack to the entire experience. As the babies cried, I tried to tune it out to "Shake It Off"; and once they finally fell asleep, I gazed out the plane window into a clear night lit by a full moon to "Out of the Woods". Taylor is currently one of my favourite human beings at the moment. 

Air travel is such a premise...You get thrown together with people from all walks of life, experiences, vocations and religions...according to the RomComs and comedians, you're either going to fall in love or it will be a hilarious comedy of errors. So neither my hypothetically Russian seatmate from the first flight, nor the two teenage Israeli boys I'm sitting with for my second flight seem to be having a love connection, I'm going to go with believing that I'm providing comedic behavior to the Eastern Europeans I'm interacting with. I just can't clearly tell because they don't really smile. 

Other notes on the travel: Baku's airport is incredibly modern, clean and architecturally pleasing. After I deplaned (which is one of my favourite words), most of the passengers from my NYC flight meandered towards passport control, which consisted of one guy sitting in a booth inspecting passports. To reiterate, pretty much all of my flight was continuing on to Tel Aviv, so that's roughly 100 people, some with small children, who needed to pass by this one guy to get their passports inspected. And then out of nowhere, all of the people with babies from across the aisle show up; apparently having all the babies means you get to skip the line. Yeah, that one took a lot of self control to get through. However, when I finally got up to the passport guy, he merely glanced at my passport & ticket before nodding me through. Thanks America! 

Then I found my way to "the Cocoon" area for a cup of expensive and relaxing black tea, which has proven to be very strong since I've been roughly up for 24+ hours and I feel very alive & aware! 

Now, on my second flight to Tel Aviv; this time I am seated in a row of three seats. I had the ticket for the window seat, but when I got to my row where I found only the middle seat between two 17 or 18 year old guys who looked to be friends. I thought it was nice of me to suggest that I just take the aisle seat and they could sit next to each other.  By doing that I may have possibly marked myself as their enemy. When the flight attendants came through with hot meals things got thrown off since I switched seats and then the guy in my window seat asked for a kosher meal-- which apparently are supposed to be preordered. So he really confused the flight attendants until I explained it and got things sorted out; meanwhile the guy in the middle seat asked if they might have some extra kosher meals. So it was a huge mess and when the flight attendant finally found two kosher meals, one guy wouldn't take it, even though I suggested it would make little difference if he did. He got all huffy and made it seem like it was my fault needless food was brought to him. So then we politely ignored each other's existence and watched RIO 2 on the airplane screen-- yes, the animated parrot movie. So yep, it's definitely a comedy! 

I made it safe and sound to Tel Aviv, my bags made it and I found my group! So that is all I have to report from the Middle East at this point! 

Lots of love,

Hannah