The Spice of Life

My day at the Local Center for Health and Community* typically starts with some almond milk, possibly chocolate almond milk, or a green smoothie made from freshly foraged plants around Kibbutz Neve Eitan. I like to think of it as hippie bottle service. Inevitably, someone will ask me if I'm hungry  and the answer is always a resounding "yes", even if I'm not because I'm full of chocolate almond milk.  Whatever is being cooked on the stove top or in the oven I will want to eat.  

From there, the path diverges, and I can't predict what route it's going to take.  I might be chopping up 20 cabbages for fermenting, or cataloging research articles, writing, weeding, stocking, or greeting a Belgian film crew making a documentary on foraging. No matter what I'm doing, I feel utilized and a part of something important. 

What is certain is that the day will be filled with wonder.  JRR Tolkien (a favorite of mine) wrote about the importance of leading a life filled with "childlike wonder" and delight.  I feel that each day here really channels that concept.  Actions that I would've regarded as mundane and routine, leave this realm and feel more extraordinary, like they've undergone a metamorphosis and emerged as the gateway to new knowledge.  Diced lemons and a little bit of salt leads to the magical process of chemical fermentation and the creation of a whole new substance and flavor. New worlds of tastes open up and my grasp on what spices and ingredients can do is challenged and reestablished daily.

My favorite sentence that I hear is "lunch will be ready soon" and I know it's going to be a wholesome serving of transcendental cuisine that will push the limits of reality and my definition of food and how I eat.

Homemade whole wheat fettucini with vegetables and cashew cream

Uri is a genius in the kitchen - I've heard some people use the expression "the ingredients really speak to me" and I imagine Uri must be communing and directing an intermingling of flavors that fuse together in such succinct harmony. The ingredients used in Uri's kitchen are all fresh, come from local sources and are in their most basic form you can find them in. Salt is from Eilat and is untreated by an anti-caking ingredient that is in most salt to make the crystals all evenly the same size; greens are gathered from fields around the area; turmeric is ground from roots unearthed in the garden outside and olive oil is from an ancient grove in the north.  

The recipes that Uri uses come from a lifelong study and search for the lost lore of ancient traditions, seasoning and aromas passed through ancient sources and antiquity. Uri sees beauty in everything around him and draws a lot of inspiration from the nature that he surrounds himself with, which is responsible for the full-fledged flavor of his food.  The methods he uses to cook are elements that ancient cultures recognized as good for the body and leading a healthy lifestyle. The processing and metallic taste of mass produced ingredients and food is stripped away, so all that remains is the pure, wholesome flavor and nutrition of Uri's cooking.  He's tapped into the truest potential in all of his flavor sources; the dishes he makes are simple and honest - salads, pasta, omelettes and stews, but I promise you, you've never tasted them like this.  

I have my mind blown regularly by what I get to eat and the amazing part is that it's so good to my taste buds, but also mutually beneficial to my gut and my body as a whole.  The diet I've been eating is for the most part vegan, no processed sugars, no creams, or bad fats, the grains are all whole and the bacteria in the bread helps my gut health.  I know this because Uri works with a microbiologist out of Tzfat, who has researched some of the bacteria in the the cultures of fermented foods from Uri's kitchen and discovered new bacteria that helps in the digestion of food.  

The entrance to the ecological house 

My days pass in Kibbutz Neve Eitan, where everything is in the leafy green flourish of winter vitality.  I live in the Ecological house which is home to around 4-7 Israelis in their late 20s or early 30s, who are all well-versed in baking up fresh loaves of bread and leading a sustainable existence.  It's refreshing to be around Israelis and completely immersed in their lifestyle. They're incredibly intelligent, open and insightful to talk with.  I haven't experienced anything like this in my five months in Israel and had I continued in my program, I would never had been lucky enough to have such a special experience like this.  

Garden and entrance to the humble abode of the LCHC

Over at the Local Center, I work with Tami and Hila - Uri's support system and earnest cooks in their own right.  Hila works with me teaching me how to make pastes,spreads, yogurts and almond milk.  Tami wields Uri's schedule, supplies structure and context for the work that we do.  They create an atmosphere of love, supportive, laughter and fresh baked bread and I always feel really honored to get to work with such motivating women.  

I'm a lone American in this place, but I feel more connected and part of a community than ever.  I'm encouraged to grow and ask questions from everyone around me and they're open to sharing their perspective and knowledge with me.  It's astounding that I've only been here for a week; the change in me is visceral - I'm relaxed, I smile more, I worry less and I dream more.  I don't regret that I left the constructs of my program for a moment because the freedom and happiness I'm finding here is genuine.  

Neve Eitan is located at the very edge of Israel and on a clear day, you can make out individual houses on the mountainsides in Jordan.  Birds dip and dive in the sky above grabbing a quick meal on their migration to Africa.  It's peaceful and you hardly notice the passing of time.  The beauty of the area is just stunning and hard to wrap your mind around.  At night, it's pitch black and jackals sing as I fall asleep before another anything but ordinary day at the Center.  

Bird migration viewing area between winter rainstorms

* We're in the process of trying to settle on an English name for the Center. Perhaps after reading this blog post, you have some ideas? Feel free to comment and share! - HS

Carpooling

Israel is small. It's roughly only 5,000km2 larger than Vermont. It's pretty easy to crisscross the country by bus, van, rental car, shirut (shared taxi van) and on occasion, catching rides with people heading the same direction that I am. 

For a country that's constantly trying to ensure its sustained existence, I've had an easy and optimistic time spent in transit. And I do spend a lot of time moving around the country - my boyfriend Ron lives near Tel Aviv, so I make the trek each weekend from Beit She'an south to Tel Aviv so I can spend time with him. This means that on a Thursday night I catch a bus from Beit She'an to a larger city in the east, Afula, where I catch another bus to Tel Aviv and Ron picks me up! It takes me around 2.5 hours to do the whole thing and no two trips are alike, depending on traffic, bus driver, passengers, time of day and weather. 

As is typical in Israel, if it rains, everything ceases to function. The country can figure out how to make flowers bloom in the desert, but is incapable of installing a sewer system. So rain means that everyone loses their minds, the traffic lights go out and radio stations fade off. But as long as it doesn't rain, it's business as usual and I can drift off into the meditative and relaxing ride and watch the Israeli landscape change from grassy rolling hills of the Galilee, to sandy dunes near the coast around Netanya.  

Each trip is really it's own adventure.  This past trip to Tel Aviv, I had just left my Beit She'an teaching gig and packed up all my things to disperse across Israel for the next month. So me, a giant suitcase and a backpack needed to navigate the buses to Tel Aviv, while a smaller suitcase and another backpack sojourned in Beit She'an waiting for my next, less weighed-down move.  

I made it the Afula bus station and as I was walking to the 825 bus to Tel Aviv, a man came up to me and asked if I wanted to take a shirut to Tel Aviv.  I looked at him suspiciously, but asked to know more and found it he was a legitimate shirut and charged 10 shekels less than the bus. So I followed him out of the bus station and to his van [having written that sentence, I can thoroughly see the sketchiness!] where he had several other people were heading to Tel Aviv as well.  One of my fellow passengers was an Israeli-Australian who spoke perfect, fluent English.  She and I began talking and realized that we had a lot in common, beginning with where I was planning on volunteering over the next couple of weeks with Uri Mayer-Chissick.  She happened to be a big fan of his, and her life in Melbourne, AU was devoted to eating very clean and learning more about leading a sustainable lifestyle.  So we spent the entire shirut ride talking about recipes, lectures on different topics and her studies to be a naturopath.  The whole ride completely flew by and I didn't even notice the landmarks passing by the window, since I was so enjoying conversation with her. It was amazing to be brought together with a kindred soul by the universal connectivity power of a slightly sketchy shirut.  

I've had other car pools where I've been impressed at the conversation and instant connection while I'm in transit.  One Thursday night, I was volunteering at the kibbutz cooperative before I made my journey to Tel Aviv.  After I finished my volunteer duties, I caught a ride from another cooperative member who was heading home towards Afula.  When you are in the habit of catching well-timed rides from whoever happens to be available in the moment, you have to fine-tune your talents of making pleasant car talk.  Alon and I had a nice conversation about his newborn baby and his music studios, as well as this really helpful discussion on following your heart to doing things that just feel more meaningful, which really helped me gain some understanding at the time.  

During a car ride, I have just a passing minutes to exchange some words with an individual.  I've found the Israelis I share the road with to be insightful and thoughtful people; very able up sum up something complex in a few simple, blunt words.  It's been really amazing to me in these moments to get a window into Israelis' lives and their view on the world. Many who I've talked to are really trying to find their happiness, care a lot about their families and if their job isn't fulfilling, they have a project or something that aligns more with their own personal beliefs.

The fact that everyone is so caring and concerned about helping me get where I need to go, does a good job in summing up the psyche of the country. There's a huge community cohesiveness in Israel; whether they're brought together by this "us against the world" mentality, or because their mutually shared military background fosters a feeling of brotherhood, that they open their car doors, homes and kitchens to anyone who is in need.  

There are always road bumps and pot holes along the road - the traffic in Tel Aviv is obscene. I've had to learn this lesson the hard way from Sunday morning drop-offs when Ron valiantly has to bring me to either the bus station, or a to a conference that has a start time against the laws of logic and gridlock.  It's a great time to learn how to swear in Hebrew and since Israeli driving technique seems be odds to the idea of lanes and lines, there's ample opportunity for me to learn these! (Sorry, Ron!) 
It should be noted that Ron is an intrepid driver; from years of figuring out how to drive tanks with ease, he's extreme adept at the wheel and I trust him, but it's the person in the other car that I really don't!

My favorite experience of car-culture based idiocy, was when I was headed home from the road trip to Jordan and Eilat. We stopped to get a tank of gas; as the car was filling up,I left my passenger-side door open and went to open the trunk to retrieve something from my bag.  Whatever it was, feel down into the emergency tire cavity.  I was up to my elbow trying to get my hands on the object, when an Israeli woman came up to me to ask me something. Realizing that I only spoke English, she walked away, but returned a moment later at the wheel of her car, careening around the corner, only a narrow inch from my open passenger door, to get to an available gas pump. She then made the miscalculation of pulling up on the wrong side of her gas tank, but this didn't stop her.  She hauled the pump and hose over her car's roof to attach to her gas tank.  I couldn't believe the effort that she had dedicated to being impatient and incompetency. But it seems this is a pretty common trend in Israel.  I don't think anyone really knows what side their gas tank is on.    

Typically, I come away from each car pool adventure feeling connected and inspired. One day I was trying to get to the cooperative via bus, but had not heard the news that there was a bus strike that day and random local lines were not running.  Particularly, the 412 line, which I needed.  I wasn't traveling alone, another was en route with me and because of that, we made the decision to try to catch a ride as we walked in the direction of the kibbutz. Almost as soon as I held out two fingers pointed down, a car pulled over. Three Ethiopian women and a baby peered out and motioned to the both of us to hop into the one free seat. No one spoke English, and there was only one seat available, but we all scrunched in together and smiled as we made the drive towards the kibbutz.  We made it safely in one piece, thanked our driver and passengers for their generosity.  

The people continue to surprise and impress me with their altruism, openness and ability to sum up the world around them so succinctly. I might use 100 words to convey a concept, an Israeli would use 10 words and they'd capture the concept completely. They're hardened and capable, no emotions are worn on their sleeves, yet they're warm and welcoming and you're always greeted with a hug, kiss and asked if you're hungry. 

So there's this really interesting dual psychology going on between being in cars and out of cars with Israelis.  When you're inside their cars with them and can share the same obstacles and conundrums, you'll note their generosity and openness and you truly appreciate and admire them.  But when you're peering in their window from another car trying to figure out why the fuck they would decide to merge lane now, that you really can't understand what is going on in their heads.  

Five months under my belt in Israel and I still walk that line constantly.  I'm not sure Israelis even know what it all means.  There's lot to contemplate and try to understand here and maybe it's the weight of all that, which causes the time spent in transport to be such an introspective and ridiculous experience!

Possible Titles for my Time Spent in Israel Thus Far

Because humor is the best medicine and I'm a sarcastic person. 

1. 50 shades of brown [my personal favorite]

2. A deluge of ants at midnight 

3. It's raining again, so the entire country has shut down 

4. Did you know that Jordan is right over there? 

5. I love the smell of cat piss in the morning

6. You will like Cremebo, or else

7. Lines are for the weak willed 

8. How many cats can fit in a dumpster?

9. Why park in a designated parking spot when the sidewalk is available?

10. GTA and Nicki Manaj: educators for the youth of tomorrow

11. No, you can't just yell out the N word. 

12. Messi or Ronaldo? The answer to this question will decide your entire fate   

13. W is for W.W.E. 

14. I'm not from England, but thank you

15. That's weird, no one asked me personal questions about my love life today 

16. Dude, that Arsim haircut is on point 

17. You're 10 years old and do not need my Instagram

18. Cat on a hot metal dumpster 

19. Hannah and the Israelites [Ron's personal favorite]

20. I'll be there in seven minutes!!! 

A Parting of Ways

I have some very important news to share with you all. 

As of this past Monday, I am no longer a part of the teaching program in Beit She'an through MASA.  I made the difficult decision to leave the program after a lot of thinking on my part and conversations with the coordinators.  It was a mutual agreement.  

It's no secret that for a long time I have not been happy living in Beit She'an and I have a had a lot of challenges and struggled with problematic situations while teaching.  I was becoming very discontent and negative, which is not a person I want to be seen as, nor project into the world.  There was a vast difference from my demeanor when I arrived on this program, and how I was behaving and feeling over the last few weeks. When you embark on this sort of experience, there's the expectation that you will change, but I was backsliding and not changing for the better and was very unhappy; furthermore, my heart was really not in the work I was doing.  

Just last Wednesday (Dec. 30) I traveled to Tel Aviv with my Beit She'an coordinator to talk about my exasperation with the Tlalim Director of Pedagogical Programs.  My goal was to have a peaceful and assuring discussion on my experiences thus far, and come away from the meeting feeling that I had communicated with someone in the organization my desire to have a better quality experience. We discussed my time teaching in the schools, as well as living in the town itself and my struggle to find a place in the community and foster a Jewish identity in a place where I felt the definition was very narrow and stifling.  

We both came to the agreement that it was not a positive fit for me to be in Beit She'an. The objective of this program and being in this town was for the both of us to positively benefit from the relationship and opportunity and that simply was not being fulfilled on either end.  I chose to give up 10 months of life and invested in coming here to teach in Beit She'an, but I was not having an experience that was giving me direction and purpose.  

I was clear on the fact that I did want to stay in Israel; there's still so much more in this country that I want to learn and experience, so to me, to just going home was not something that I wished to do.  

In the meeting, we discussed other ways for me to stay in Israel and do a different program, but like most things in life, the options that were proposed were limited by either money or time.  I've been volunteering for the past four months and that doesn't exactly result in stock options, or 401Ks. Tlalim said that they would look into the possibility of finding a program that was "free", but that didn't leave me a large sense of hopefulness.

Things NEVER happen fast in Israel, but this time they did.  As I was still turning things over in my head and brainstorming ideas and possibilities, I got word that MASA had decided to take me off their roster as of Monday, January 11.  So that basically made the decision for me.  

Getting this new was very climatic - at the same time, Ron and I were stuck in traffic and trying to accomplish 1,000 things: him getting to a bank and a meeting and me trying to go to a MASA conference in Jaffa.  The traffic had us at a standstill and the car's gas tank was in the red.  It was a very stressful and aggravating moment.  

Thriving on the energy of the situation, I jumped into action; all the ideas that I had come up with in my brainstorms were now possibilities, so I began making calls and emails like a whirling durbish.   

I was still tense and anxious when Ron dropped me off at the hotel in Jaffa and I went to my MASA conference on Leadership. It seemed like the last place I should be at that time.  Not one to ignore irony, I tried to get out of my field experience session, but the organizers would have none of it, so I wound up on a bus feeling overwhelmed and agitated.  I'm not sure if you could actually sense the air buzzing around me, but another conference goer suggested that I listen to a meditation app on his phone.  The universe tends to work in mysterious ways, and I think that was one of them since it helped me calm down a lot.

Over  the next couple of days, I slowly began to come up with a plan and then once the conference ended and I returned to Beit She'an, I've been able to make things happen.

On to greener pastures

Firstly, and most excitingly, I will be staying in Israel, for the time being.  
Dr. Uri Chissick and his co-workers at the Institute decided to hire me on as a full time volunteer.  I will be working with them at their facilities on the kibbutz for the next couple of weeks.  I will be involved in 1) foraging tours, 2)cooking and concocting spices, teas, vegan cheeses and spreads as well as fermentation, and 3) working on the Institutes media materials in English so we can better explain and represent the work we do there

Afterwards, I have a couple more ideas of what I will do and where I will go that make me feel really optimistic and curious. Currently, I'm living in this wonderful state of spontaneity and possibility -  it's at times frightening, and at others very inspiring and free.  Since making this decision, there's been a notable change in my body and mind.  I'm standing taller and my eyes look clearer; a couple people have even remarked upon it as well, so I think that if the positive adjustment is that apparent, I'm very confident in this decision. 

I have a lot of choice words and feelings on the whole experience of living in Beit She'an, but ever since coming to this conclusion, they've fallen away and become moot.  So things haven't turned out exactly as planned, but without this experience I would not have had the opportunity to fall in love with someone, or be inspired and driven to seek out new options for learning and experiencing that I had never before considered.  

So long and thanks for all the fish

Throughout my time in Israel, I've been lucky enough to cross paths with a good many people, who have been encouraging and supportive of me finding my way to be happy in where I am and what I do.  I'm happy that I've been so fortunate, so I don't feeling isolated and helpless making this decision to try something new and a little against the grain.  Thank you for the support and confidence!  

So darlings, let's be adventurous and see what happens.  I've got food in my belly, a roof over my head and work that inspires and my heart is in.  

________________________________________________________

"What do you fear, lady?' he asked
'A cage,' she said.  "To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire."

- Eowyn, House of Eorl

The Return of the King

J.R.R. Tolkein

__________________________________________________________

So You Just Showed Up on Their Doorstep?

Most of my escapades and gripes take place inside the city limits of Beit She'an. It's taken time to feel confident enough to venture on my own either for exercise or to feed my own curiosity, to see what's around me in the Valley of the Springs area. 

Whenever I go out on runs or walks that take me beyond the bounds of the city, there's a clear change in the infrastructure, landscape and atmosphere. You can tell you've left the bounds of Beit She'an when the deluge of trash strewn haphazardly on the ground ends.  When I'm on foot (which I often am) I can easily observe the shift to wide open stretches of farm land; the winter weather brings out lush greens, health and vitality in the earth.  The bucolic countryside can at times almost resemble the stereotypical Tuscan countryside with neatly manicured rows of budding green extending out as far as the eye can see. Bike and walking paths meander around the fields and if it's sunny and pleasant, people might be out walking their dogs or running.  It's really quite beautiful to behold.  It's so sad to me that the city where I reside has such a detrimental and abusive relationship with the environment around them.  But the kibbutzim have a deep-seated respect and connection to the land and it clearly means something significant to live where they are and harvest their crops. 

Since arriving in Beit She'an I've been looking for a volunteer project of something that might align with my personal interests. More and more those personal interests have turned to health, wellness and nutrition - mostly because they were aspects of my personality and western world that I held in high regard, but I've been unable to find much of a respect for this lifestyle living whilst in Beit She'an. 

My coordinator and others with fancy titles who introduced themselves to the ITF group and feigned excitement for the different possibilities of our presence, floated ideas by me of walking groups or exercise classes at the JCC as something for me to pursue. Neither of these ideas were really my cup of tea, but in the spirit of trying new things and being open to new experiences, I said that I would love to give those options a try. However, it made little difference in the end, since there was no follow-up and sometimes they were never mentioned again. 

It seemed that my existence in Beit She'an was doomed to be limited to the unrewarding and repetitive task of days spent in a drab classroom, or feeling like a fish out of water in a place that I found difficult to feel at ease and accepted. 

One day, I was in my coordinator's office - I believe I was making alphabet workbooks for my fourth grade group who are at a learning the ABCs level. This is rather ironic, since I was making these packets with renewed vigor, at the suggestion of Yael, the English teacher who was supposed to be on sabbatical, but was brought in for five hours a week to try to balance out the damage being done by the English teacher, who is actually a substitute for Yael and my assigned "host" teacher. The fate of those worksheets that I hopefully assembled that day was to lie in a pile on the floor of my room. They were never used since there hasn't been much opportunity where I have a day structured enough, or when I'm not trying to play catch up on the skipped around style of teaching that they're enduring.  Eventually, I showed the packets to the substitute English teacher when she was complaining to me about some of her issues with the book that she herself had chosen to order. She liked the sheets and ran off to make copies of them and probably used them in class later that day, because it's unlikely she had a lesson plan. So that's how I came to provide materials for my host teacher. 

Back to the office, way before all that with the worksheets came to fruition, the coordinator mentioned to me that he thought he remembered that there was a food cooperative on a neighboring kibbutz that might be worth my checking out. From him, I found out which kibbutz and the times the cooperative operated, so I resolved that coming Thursday to go and see for myself. 

In the meantime, another fellow I live with, Ian, said he was interested in checking out the kibbutz cooperative with me. He was motivated, not by an interest in the food, but out of curiosity of the kibbutz community. He had preciously expressed a desire to explore the kibbutzim life around us, but been told that he was not possible for us to venture there. In our own ways, both of us were buckling under the crush of living in Beit She'an at the far and forgotten reaches of Israel and struggle with the strain of trying to fit into such a narrow-minded society. But this glimmer of an idea of a cooperative market offered a sliver of hope. 

Thursday rolled around and we caught our bus. We arrived at the kibbutz, which as a rule, are gated, but they typically remain open during day time hours so you can just stroll in. The two of us asked for directions to the "fresh food market" and eventually, between phone calls and mangled English and Hebrew exchanges found ourselves in the most heavenly one room market and pantry. 

Kibbutz Bet Alfa's cooperative market is by no mean glamorous, although to me, it is a salvation. It's a square shaped room, divided into sections for dry goods, like avocado oil, gluten free pizza crust, cacao, etc. Then there's a cooler filled with locally provided salad mixes, vegan cheeses and even tofu made by a German family that lives on a nearby mountainside [because when you're German and make tofu, where else would you live?!]. The other two walls are devoted to organic greens picked just hours before by Eli, a local farmer; plus fresh fruits and vegetables from farms around the area. 

My mouth dropped. I think I almost cried, or was at least overwhelmed by emotion for finally making my way to this gold mine! I didn't know that food and thinking along the line of local cooperative existed where I was! I've been plagued by bloating and stomach aches from the richness and quantity of food; the tendency of Israeli eating is essentially to make things as processed and as sugary as possible and then give you a lot of it. I've been missing quinoa, kale and smoothies, as well as the pursuit of making these things!...I'm not saying that the entire world needs to follow my suit and eat this way, but it's what I enjoy and like to pursue.  It's made me feel so sad and lonely finding that no one else around me shared my interests. 

The locals involved with the running of the cooperative were almost as happy as I was to have to have two volunteers from Beit She'an have wandered into their midst!  Idit, the woman running the cooperative and arranging the member volunteer schedule, was so happy to have us and got our contact information so we could begin to volunteer with them right away. Idit even arranged for us to get a ride home to Beit She'an with one of the members; the guy and his crying baby only could get us around 3km outside of Beit She'an, so we had to walk the rest of the way, but it barely felt like our feet touched the ground as we walked home underneath a starry sky to the sound of jackals howling. 

Idit turned out to be a kibbutz fairy godmother to me. After my first week volunteering in the co-op, I messaged her and asked if she knew of any other people in the area who were involved in eating organic, local and leading a healthy lifestyle. She sent me back a list of places with the associated numbers to call up. 

If you've ever had a job where you need to cold call, take the anxiety and awkwardness of that and multiply it by 1,000 to understand what calling a random number in Israel and not knowing if the person who answers the phone will speak English and be able to understand you. Amazingly, Hila, the first number that I called roughly understood what I was saying to her, or at least was intrigued enough to invite me to visit her on Kibbutz Neve Eitan the next day and check out the institute that she assisted a man named Uri Mayer-Chissick in operating. 

So that's how I came to literally show up on the doorstep of the kibbutz Neve Eitan, and be welcomed with open arms to Mekomi.

Mekomi, which means local in Hebrew, is part deli - providing the area with teas, almond milk, cashew cheese and a host of other tasty options; teaching institute - where students from across Israel can come to learn how to eat healthier, lead a lifestyle grounded on concepts from ancient medicine and nutrition and be educated on an environmentally sustainable lifestyle; and go on foraging tours - where participants learn history of the edible plants around then make a tasty meal with them. 

That day when I spontaneously showed up at the doorstep, Hila, Tami and Yael were just about to sit down for lunch, so I had excellent timing! They served up a fresh herb salad topped with homemade, vegan yogurt dressing, sweet potatoes with baked garlic cloves and beet, zucchini and frehki [an ancient grain from the Levant] stew. It was delicious and my stomach was happy, although my mind however was being blown by all the research and activities the three women, Uri and the institute were involved in. 

We swapped stories over the meal; I couldn't believe that all this was at my fingertips, just waiting for me to find it! It did take a lot of my own legwork, courage to really get out there and perseverance. 

Noga in the wild

Within two days of finding Mekomi, Tami had arranged for me to go on a foraging tour with Uri that Friday.  Bright and early Friday morning, Uri picked me up in a white van playing Israeli music from the 80s that was a favorite of his young daughter Noga.  We drove to a park near Megiddo; the morning was overcast, a little wet and the park was a deep, dynamic green. We parked the van on a hillside and walked over the park entrance where around 10 or so Israelis arrived in various levels of outdoor gear for Uri's foraging tour.  In truth, I was surprised by this turn out, I didn't know that many people were interested in these pursuits, plus they turned out to be incredibly good natured group and well versed themselves on plant-lore.  Uri lectured in Hebrew, but his father who had come along for to help, was from England originally so he translated so I could understand .  Noga ran along with the tour in bare feet, more than adept herself in the lush wilderness, where she seems to be at home climbing ancient olive trees, and eating fresh, wild asparagus and flowers she picked.  

Foraged greenery 

Over the next few hours, I lost myself in a complete immersion of all things green and leafy in the vicinity.  I poked under rocks, tasted leaves and buds and gained a new found respect for the land I'm living in. 

A work of art and tastes

At the end of the foraging lecture, the group was turned loose to collect our own plants.  Ever the stalwart group, these Israelis had come equipped with their own foraging tools, thermoses of tea and even a bottle of wine.  Uri, his father and Noga turned their attention to building a fire and beginning to chop up vegetables, and make preparations for a meal centered around the foraged materials.  Vegetables were chopped, green leaves and herbs were minced and a wholewheat pita dough found its way onto an ancient, traditional-styled oven.

The piece de resistance of the meal was a work of art served up on huge, silver center piece consisting of colorful stripes of natural tahini, just picked and squeezed wheat grass, the best olive oil Israel has to offer, sumac, spicy sauce and the roasted insides of eggplant, all topped in sesame seeds. The idea was to take a piece of pita bread and scoop up everything from the platter.  

The tastes, setting and humble atmosphere came together to create something very genuine and pure. A lot of the experiences I've had in Israel have come from the hands of program organizers, who from time to time seem to have their own agenda they're pushing or have kind of dropped out and don't seem to really care at all any more.  As a result, a lot of the me this experience can feel disconnected, or like a "drink the koolaid" pressured sort of experience to feel the same sense of belonging that others are having, although I'm clearly not.  I feel lost, and angry when this happens.  So this experience was completely refreshing to me and made me at the brink of something amazing and like I needed to completely reevaluate my entire perceptions of the country around me.  

A well made pita 

The end result of the chickpea stew

Fixing the fire

Traditional pita cooking methods.

I returned home smelling like wood-smoke, exhausted and exhilarated.  I had little time to rest, since Uri and Noga had invited me to join them, his other daughter Ayla and his wife, Tali at her family's house for Shabbat.   

Her family welcomed me with great excitement and curiosity; it seems it's not every day that a random American just arrives at their doorstep looking to volunteer, so I was something of an anomaly.  Tali and her family were gregarious, personable and animated; the entire family was fluent in English and had no reserves answering all my questions on religion, politics and Israeli culture that I had felt unsure about how or who to ask these of.  

The evening was amazing, I was in a lovely, warm bubble of connection, plus excitement over what finding the Institute and a welcoming group at the kibbutz; the potential seemed limitless and I felt like I was on the verge of learning something new and really meaningful.

After that first week of introduction to Uri, Hila, Tami and Yael, who all have their own vital roles at the Institute, I have now been volunteering with them for around a month.  It's become a meaningful and harmonious place for me to spend my days both in mind and body when I can orchestrate an escape from Beit She'an, which is typically two afternoons a week.  The work I do varies from cataloging academic articles, to helping with Taglit (Birthright) group visits.  I'm also learning new recipes for everything from almond milk, fermented lemon dip infused with mallow and lentil cakes.  My heart feels involved in everything I do there, as well as the new things I'm learning, which hopefully helps others in the pursuit of something that I really believe in.
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In case you are curious, click here to link to Uri's website and background on Uri and what he studies. 

The Institute/Mekomi that I refer to is called in Hebrew as המרכז להנהגת הבריאות which is tough to translate but means something like "Center for Health Leadership", but that doesn't quite encompass everything it does with foraging tours, the deli stocked with Rambam tea, cashew cheese and olive oil, plus lectures on a wide range of topics including eating local and green architecture. Click here to link to a webpage that will give more background on the "leadership" element of the Institute.  You may need to right click and then choose an translate option to be able to view the page in English.

The Institute attracts a wide range of disciples all from different walks of life curious about what can be learned and new skills that can be acquired.  Most people hail from the center of Israel; since it's such a small country, it's not usually more than a two hour drive to get from Tel Aviv to Kibbutz Navay Eitan. Click here to see on a map where the kibbuz is located, so you can see where I spend my days.  Unfortunately, there are no locals from Beit She'an involved in what's happening at just one of the kibbutzim merely a 6 minute drive from their homes.