Hanukkah - Part 3: In the Footsteps of Lawrence of Arabia

Crossing into Jordan was a song and dance of bureaucratic stamps, inspections, screening and judgmental glares. We had, by this time been joined by other Westerners who had signed up for our same tour to Petra; with us there were two backpackers, three senior members of a flight crew, two Mormon girls on the tail end of a mission trip and the three of us! We were helped on the Israeli side by an older, sarcastic Israeli man in a Bill Cosby sweater, who collected our $65 border crossing fee from us and ushered us through Israeli passport control and customs. This took place in a series of low buildings stretched along an expanse of empty, flat land. We went from one building to another to complete each phase of the process. 

When it finally came time to cross from one country to another, we walked out onto a single lane road that spanned maybe 100 yards; it looked like a scene from a spy movie where we were part of a prisoner exchange. The group of us walked with our bags from the edge of one country to another.

Welcome to Jordan!

On the Jordan side, we were greeted by much the same process, but this time the atmosphere had changed. Shark-eyed guards looked us up and down warily, like they were daring us to do something wrong for the chance to shoot their weapons. 

I've adjusted to constantly walking by young, bright-eyed IDF soldiers with M-16s slung over their shoulders; riding the bus with 20 or so guns leaned across their associated soldiers' laps, plus any time I want to go to the movie theatre or mall I consent to metal detectors and bag searches. But all the time, you're aware that these soldiers are young, they're only 18-21 and they're someone's daughter or son. They don't want to be there any more than you do, but their whole life they've known that this service was coming for them and they had to pay their dues. So they approach it reverently, alertly and typically as a span of years which must be passed. 

Conversely, the Jordanian soldiers were all men, older and eyed us ferociously, just waiting for the chance to flex their muscles and show the full might of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan!

Just like on the Israeli side, we were met by a guide from the tour company we had arranged the visit with and we were ushered through the process of receiving many passport stamps, before walking out onto a dry flat plane that was our first look at Jordan.  We were divided into vans and then those vans shut their doors and we headed off from the border, through the suburbs of Aqaba and onto the highway heading north towards Petra.

So first things that I did not take into account is that Petra is far. It is around a two hour drive from Aqaba. It was still around 10:00 in the morning and I hadn't eaten more than a yogurt for breakfast. In the van, it seemed that our driver doubled as our tour guide as we raced over the road - top speeds on the highway include around 55-65mph; every few miles or so, there are speed humps to keep everyone from maxing out at crazy speeds. We were also stopped two or three times by police check points on the road. The driver said that since he had Americans [and Canadians] in his van, we'd have no problem. But every time, we were eyed over suspectedly.

As he drove, our driver told us about Jordan - "very nice and clean country!", which to his credit it was - at least where I was taken.  He told us about the royalty of Jordan, a dynasty which began with King Hussein, who looks like a kindly Sean Connery and governed through a huge span of years and events encompassing 1952-1999. When he passed, his son Abdullah II succeed him as king and still sits on the throne today. King Abdullah's son Hussein is the Crown Prince of Jordan and currently next in line to inherit the throne, however, at the moment, he apparently attends Georgetown. 

We stopped at a lonely outpost to break up the drive and use a bathroom. Inside the outpost we were greeted by a plethora of sales people ready to help us find the Jordanian scarf, trinket or souvenir of your dreams. Haggling was expected and encouraged, but you sort of knew that the merchant had the upper hand; we were trying to negate three different currencies - the American dollar, Israeli sheckel and Jordanian dinar. Trying to do conversions across all these different currencies to avoid being swindled, undoubtedly gets you swindled. And the merchants at this shop - and really every other person we encountered selling things - had nothing else to do rather than hone their craft on how to get the most money out of tourists. 

We all loaded back up into the vans and continued our trek. Now we were the only vehicles on a road that wound over hill tops that were mentioned in the bible. We passed a range of scraggly mountains of which the tallest was said to be the tomb of Moses' brother Aaron. 

Small building with the mountains that house Petra in the background

The vans descended through a small, but pleasant looking town called Wadi Musa, the town centered upon a rich, green stretch of stream, which was said to the the spot that Moses struck his staff and caused water to flow from the earth. 

Moses himself never entered Petra, nor the land of Israel for that matter. He was fated to never set foot inside the land of Canaan (Israel), he died at a biblically ripe old age and the location of his tomb is unknown.

We pulled up to the entrance to the expanse of Petra and left the vans. The tour group walked into a recently built circular courtyard with bathrooms, a small UNESCO Heritage Site plaque, restaurant with a loud yellow sign declaring it had WIFI and falafel, and three shops all selling the same scarves and trinkets as each other; each had shop keepers standing in front of them eagerly eyeing our pockets and bags. 

The tour group gathered around our Jordanian guide Adnan. He was younger, maybe 30ish years old, donned a checkered headscarf and had noteworthy burgeoning huge biceps. Two other travelers - an American, and an Argentinian joined our group and we headed along the dirt road out of the courtyard and into Petra. 

"One word of caution before you enter" said Adnan, whose English, as well as his French was flawless, "do not buy anything from the children who are trying to sell you things. They are supposed to be in school. Jordan is working on this." 

So with that, we began the tour and our walk into the ancient red walled city of Petra. 

The formal entrance of Petra is called the Siq, but even before you reach it you walk by the homes of past Nabateans, which intermix with the tombs of even more passed Nabateans. The more than 2,000 year old society had a very complex relationship with how they honored their dead. The intricate structures that the ancient city is famed for were built with the purpose of honoring their dead ancestors. Those who lived and walked the streets, were constantly reminded of those who had come before them. 

Walking down the pathway towards the first buildings of Petra

The Obelisk Tomb

Also on display in Petra, our tour guide's gigantic arms

The group approached the Siq, the naturally formed narrow entrance of the expansive ancient city of Petra. The path lined with original cobblestones slops down and bring the merchant with his caravan of camels, guard or tourist along a path chiseled through indomitable red canyon walls. The Nabataeans cut niches into the stone to honor their gods, as well as show their dominance and control over the resources of the area. The walls at times pressed so closely together so that you must stride through in single file. 

All the while, there are young Jordanian men with horses tied to colorful carts and donkeys racing - no careening past you. This is their sales pitch to try to tempt you into taking a wild ride with them to the more distant parts of Petra - the site is so big that it's not a bad way to see it all if you're short on time. 

Strolling down the paths, whilst dodging horse drawn carts driven by maniacs

The thing that doesn't come across in National Geographic, Indiana Jones, or guide books is that Petra was a living and breathing city. It's much more than the famously carved face of the Treasury, it's like walking through the frozen in time remains of New York City.

Hello from Petra

But oh, the Treasury, it's one of the wonders of the world for good reason. The pathway narrows before it opens up to reveal its breathtaking beauty. Tears came to my eyes when I saw it. It's just so overwhelmingly beautiful, impossible and represents what skilled human hands can create. It's bigger than I expected, more mammoth and resolute. But so, so, so impossibly beautiful. 

Camel for scale

Bedouin guards stand in front of the entrance.

Details of the columns and facade on the front of the Treasury 

Making friends with the locals

Against this backdrop of the possibility of ancient architecture, are the possibilities of modern capitalism. To the left of the entrance to the Treasury is a Jordanian restaurant with snacks, drinks and free WIFI if you buy something. Three camels are staged at artistic angles in front of the site for tourists to take pictures with, or pay a couple dinar for a ride. It just goes to show that you can travel to the ends of the earth, but you can never go completely off the edges any more. 

Past the Treasury, the real expanse of the full, vibrant city opens up. There's levels of buildings in a range of different styles stacked on top of each other - if you lived here, you'd have been in good shape from walking up flights and flights of stairs to reach upper levels of building. The ever present Nabatean tombs become more ornate and house more families.  There's even a Greek style amplitheatre present.  

It's a hard knock life for a Petra donkey.  

Row upon row of Nabatean houses

With the rest of our time at Petra, we had free time to explore and wander. I fell into conversation with Adnan, the tour guide and we had a really interesting conversation about the Nabateans use of Corinthian Greek architecture that led to talking about job prospects for young Jordanians and the market there. So just remember kids, you never know where your Classics degree might take you!

Black and white of Bedouin guards on top of Petra overlook.

By the time we had all returned back to Petra'a Welcome Center where we had started, the day was creeping towards 3:45. We still had not eaten. Our appetites had been distracted by the views, but now that we could think about it, we were really hungry. The vans picked us up and brought us to a Jordanian buffet. For me, this was the most real and solid thing I had eaten in almost three days. The food was flavorful and amazing and I ate like I might never see food again. 

But I actually would not have to wait that long. From the restaurant, we loaded back into our vans and one took people back to the Jordanian border where they returned to Israel, while the other took six of us around 2 hours south to a Bedouin camp for the night. 

When Jess, Joe and I had booked the tour, we read that we had the choice between spending the night in a Bedouin camp, or a hotel in Aqaba. Both sounded pretty cool to us, so we figured that we'd ask our tour guide which he'd suggest once we were there. But this moment never came. So we were just swept along to the Bedouin camp - which still sounded pretty cool to us. But then the sun set. And it got cold. So cold. I know it's the desert and it's Jordan, but it gets cold. Like you can see your breath and can't stop your body from shaking profusely cold. 

When we arrived it was pitch dark and we entered a stylish encampment of lines of modern looking canvas tents amid palm trees. It was jovial looking enough, but it's charming look hide its true sinister nature. Canvas walls don't do much to hold in heat, if you have any of it to begin with. We were given two gigantic blankets and that was to served for our heating unit. In the tent I shared with Jess, we both quickly changed into all the layers of clothes we had packed with us. We decided to go to dinner to see if there was any heat in the cafeteria building. There wasn't. A large fire was at the center, but it didn't do much good; the heat didn't radiate out. None of us were hungry, but we ate to keep up with the body's demand as it shivered. 

This is what brushing your teeth in the Jordanian desert looks like

What the camp lacked in actual walls and thermodynamic capabilities, it made up for in beautiful 360 degree views of stars and the Milky Way. I saw my first shooting star while wrapped up in a 1in thick Beduin blanket standing out underneath the night sky with Joe, Jessica and our two new friends Amber and Juan (the two who joined our tour later).

The night passed painstakenly slowly and bone-chillingly cold. The low point was around 3am when I had to leave my bed to sprint to the bathroom building located around 75 yards away. It was freezing! As I figure it, at around that time of night, it was probably roughly 30 degrees. 

Looking all jaunty and cute in the sunlight and hiding its true nature.

When the day dawned, I woke up almost amazed to still exist. I staggered out of the tent, my body stiff, clothing stuck to myself and hair matted. 

I joined my friends at the cafeteria building and ate a Jordanian breakfast. Today we were going on a jeep tour of Wadi Rum!

Wadi Rum enters Western cinema from the adventures of T.E. Lawrence, who's life gave inspiration to the film Lawrence of Arabia. Wadi Rum was also the backdrop of the recent Matt Damon film The Martian lending it's red sands for the surface of Mars. So, I can now say that I more or less have walked on Mars. 

Our Bedouin tour guide arrived to pick up the six of us in an amped-up pick-up truck with bench seats in the back.  The fun thing about the Middle East is that they don't have to adhere to the same safety regulations as the west. So when you're sitting the back of a pick up and the Bedouin driving it decides to take a roller coaster-esque drop over a sand dune, you enjoy the ride! 

For the next few hours our guide drove us to a few different sites around Wadi Rum to take pictures and enjoy the natural beauty. 

Desert expanse of Wadi Rum

More views of Wadi Rum

Since they're out there all day, Bedouin guides take some great pics.

Don't try this at home

Mushroom rock

Attempting to climb the Mushroom Rock

After our jeep tour, we returned to the camp, grabbed our bags, threw them back into the van and got the heck out of dodge to Jordan's southern city of Aqaba.  We had signed up for a tour of the city, but I'm not sure if it's the fact that there's nothing much to see in Aqaba, or the Mormon girls really needed to get back to their connecting flight in Israel, but we were not there for more than two hours.  In that time we had one last Jordanian meal that culminated in one last awkward monetary exchange of US dollars, Israeli sheckles and not enough Jordanian dinar when the restaurant did not accept credit cards.  

After that, we high tailed it back to the Jordanian/Israeli border, which was the same thing we did the day before, but in reverse.  There was relatively few incidents: a border agent forgot to give me a stamp with the right year, so I had to go back through a couple steps at one point, but we all made it!

Back safe inside Israel, we said goodbye to our new friends from our travels. Jessica, Joe and I went back to our rental car that we had decided to hang onto for the whole span of the trip since just driving back to Beit She'an seemed the easiest and most cost effective way to do the trek. By then, the sun had set over Eilat, settling behind the Jordanian mountains - mountains which we had only a day ago been traversing.

Driving through the Negev desert and the West Bank at night is a lot less interesting.  The five hours of the drive went by without a hitch and much of note happening.  Before we knew it, we had returned to our familiar haunts of Beit She'an, which of course, had not changed one bit.  It seemed relatively unperturbed by the fact that we had just crossed into a different country, visited a World Wonder, dipped our toes in the Dead Sea and the Red Sea and passed a night in the Jordanian desert.  But that's Beit She'an for ya!

All in all, it was a magnificent trip!  I found myself in places that I never believed my life would take me. Getting to visit Petra was just much cooler than I thought my life would be.  I love looking back at the pictures and seeing the evidence that it happened, since some parts were very dreamlike to behold. It's well worth getting up from the desk chair for the chance to get to see it in person!

Hanukkah - Part 2: Aquariums and Canyon Hikes

The next day in Eilat dawned bright, but had a chill in the air....I feel foolhearted saying that since I'm a born and bred Vermonter, who's survived many a bitter winter. But keep in mind, that I've been in the country for almost four months now, in a place that sits along the same fault line as the Great Rift Valley and gets some of its weather from Jordan and Syria. So in the past couple of months my blood has thinned and my cold resistance tolerance has plummeted. [This will be an important detail to keep in mind for later in this tale!]

The weather had a bit of a brisker quality about it, but we were still on the beaches of the Red Sea where the coral reefs are legendary and dolphins leap playful to the cheers of tourists and their children...all for the right price, of course.  Let's not forget, it's Eilat - a paradisaical dream with illusions of Vegas grandeur and Atlantic City prosperity, only to be tempered by a proclivity towards conservatism, not suited for gambling, fast women and binge drinking, so it abates itself with duty free shops. 

Little Dory fish swimming through her reef-y world

First stop for Jessica, Joe and I was to the Underwater Observatory Marine Park, a park and aquarium which features shark feedings, a glass tunnel completely made of glass for 360 degrees of exotic fish viewing and the ability to take selfies with stingrays as well as an underwater observing station so one can see the colors of the Red Sea coral reefs from 42 meters (137.8 ft) under the waves. 

Aforementioned selfie with stingray

Photo op from the top of the observatory, with Jordan mountains in the background

Afterwards, the three of us made a quick stop at a grocery store - after the previous night's disastrous subsistence (primarily for everyone but Joe) we were trying to take precautions of being savvy on our wallets as well as our bellies. So we swung by a grocery store and grabbed what I would call a college kid's worst nightmare of pittance - my haul included yogurts, a can of chickpeas and what I imagined must be a frozen meal of vegetables and couscous since that's what the delicious looking picture on the box depicted! (Foreshadowing). 

We stopped by the Airbnb villa, ate our pitiful lunch, from which I can report that eating a can of chickpeas is just as pathetic as it sounds, and headed back out, this time driving away from Eilat and along the Egypt border.  We were so close to the Egyptian border that the road took us right along the heavily fortified fence,so we could see views of the desolate Sinai Desert.

Jessica at the wheel, with the Egyptian border on the left.

A must have fashion accessory: the fanny pack

Our destination was a hike called Red Canyon, which I had found out about from some stunning picture from National Geographic, as well as the reputable source of Trip Adviser. The latest review of the hike said that the hike was posted as closed due to water damage, but to ignore that warning and hike on - it wasn't that damaged & the hike was negatable. On the way down some dirt and rock roads not meant to be traverse by Nissan Micra, we passed other tourists being turned around and a sort of park ranger who told us the trail was closed. But I held onto the words of Trip Adviser to ignore all of this and press on - not easy to convince my group of, but they did it! When we reached the lower parking lot and got out to take a look around, we saw people coming up the trail! Lots of people, actually - everyone from a stoner teenage kid to a mom originally from Canada with her three kids! I insisted that if they could do it, so could we, so I coerced my intrepid group to press on for views that would be worth it! 

Well, big thank you to the dauntless reviewers at Trip Adviser - they were not wrong. We maneuvered across some challenging descents by rung across some rock faces, but the reward was completely worth it! 

The closest thing the scalloped red rock faces of the canyon brought to mind was scenes of Tatooine from Star Wars [which still have yet to see!].

We wrapped up the hike and headed back over the mountains, the sun was slipping beneath the horizon casting showed lines across the ancient mountains.Their faces exposed colorful rock layers of black and red that had bore witness to thousands of years of history, different empires, religions and leaders.  It was a moment of profound awareness of how small of an entity I was, but also the kismet of being able to tread this are at this place and time.  

Naturally, we were all really hungry after the hike, so when we returned to the villa,Joe, Jessica and I got busy making our supermarket bought meals. Joe had a pizza of questionable taste (Israel is not a nation known for it's pizza making prowess) and Jess and I had the alleged frozen couscous meal, which I imagined was like the Annie's meals I knew and loved back home!  

Unfortunately, high expectations are never a good thing to have in Israel - the meal turned out to be just 2+ pounds of frozen couscous in a Tupperware and that was our one meal option.  So night two in Eilat ended with us dining on a meal of couscous flavored with dry soup mix made up by the culinary mastery of Jessica.  It was one of the most hilarious concoctions I've ever eaten, but hey it worked!

New lows of gourmet were reached that night.

We went to beds tucked into our little bunk beds, woke up the next morning and grabbed our bags to catch the van that would take us to the Jordanian border crossing.  

Hanukkah - Part 1: A Road Trip of Biblical Proportions

If your idea of a holiday doesn't involve driving a car through disputed territory, along the lowest, most uninhabitable place on earth, then hiking through deserts, crossing through heavily militarized borders, viewing world wonders and spending a frigid night beneath a sky full of stars -- well, you're not really living!

This odyssey began, as any does, with an idea: the lost city of Petra had peered out at me from the pages of national geographic, textbooks, and of course, Indiana Jones. 

In Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Indy and his father ( Sean Connery, since who else could be Indiana's dad!?) are archaeologists who preserve the moral balance of history, by following treasure maps where X marks the spot, knocking over thousand year old, undiscovered tombs and breaking a lot of stuff - all to the battle cry of "It belongs in an museum!!!" 

[Seriously, they don't make movies like that any more, unless Star Wars delivers.] 

Much to the chagrin of the Nazis, the Joneses are getting pretty close to locating the Holy Grail, reputed to grant eternal life, and if there's one thing that really gets the Nazis panties in a bunch, it's life granting wine glasses; it's very aligned with Hitler's plans of world domination. 

Naturally, the only place you could hide the Holy Grail would be a lost city, so the whole gang: Nazis, Jones and all, come to the lost city of Petra. The city of Petra actually once was  actually "lost".  It slipped from memory and history books and was only known by Bedouin shepherds who transverse the rocky mountainsides with their goats and camels. Then in 1812, a Swiss explorer, Johann Ludwig Burckhardt tricked and coerced his way with the Bedouins, into revealing Petra's location and the Western World became aware of its existence again. 

The mysterious nature of the ancient red rock structures of Petra would entrance the imaginations of many, including me as I watched Indiana race across the screen to "choose wisely" through his knowledge of archaeology and quick wits! 

Most likely, you are not reading this for a synopsis of the movie and historical background, you actually want to hear about my adventures. So how do three Americans on Hanukkah break get themselves to the famed rose colored walls of Petra? They rent a car, of course!

My roommate Jessica is one of those people who has the road in her blood, so she was naturally at the wheel to handle the enterprising idiocry with which Israelis approach driving. I was up front, next to her in the passenger seat to navigate and Joe rounded us out in the back seat of our little Nissan Micra.  On the stereo, heavy metal guitar pounded out a beat as we rounded the twists and turns of highway 90 towards the West Bank. Jessica and Joe love their metal, so my soft indie music suggestions were outnumbered. There's something about the timeless, forlorn, jagged edges of the desert that really vibes well with metal; so as soundtracks go, this felt apropos. 

It only takes a few minutes to reach the border of the West Bank after you leave Beit She'an (we are closer to Jordan and the West Bank than any major Israeli cities). From what you read in the news about the West Bank, you would imagine it's very well fortified and maintained, so that passing through it is an ordeal...well, we didn't even come to a full stop.  We were waved right through. 

The drive continued down 90 which wove itself between mountains and the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is the lowest point on the earth's surface. Its surface and shores are 429 meters below sea level. All three of us have visited before on Birthright and subsequent MASA trips, so we didn't need to find a spa and take a dip in the salty waters, but we couldn't pass up the chance to take advantage of the photo op to kick off the road trip.

Road trip crew assembled!!!

Another notable site that we drove by was the alleged location of Sodom, a city mentioned in the Book of Genesis for its evil residents, who were smitted (Smitten? Smote? Please give me feedback on what's grammatically correct in the comments) by god in a rain of fire and brimstone - since god has never been one for half-assed measures. The only one spared was Lot, his wife and his daughters, who were warned of the eminent destruction of the city by angels sent from god. They packed their things and sped away, but not before Lot's wife dared a peek back over her shoulder at the destruction of their home. And poof! She turned into a pillar of salt! This being the area of the Dead Sea and all, she was in good company. 

If you want to read more about this, check out The Harlot by the Side of the Road by Jonathan Kirsch for a really daring, racy read. It's not every day that one drives through the location of the lewdest biblical tales, so we stopped for another photo. 

Yep, that's Mt. Sodom.  Not much to look at!

Now, nothing but miles of road stood between us and the southern tip of Israel, Eilat. This stretch of drive took us through the Negev desert. If you've ever wondered what it might be like to drive on the surface of the moon, to the best of my knowledge this would be the way to experience it. The desert is just endless stretched of barren nothingness as far as the eye can see. Rock structures rounded and twisted from the wind into strange foreign shapes pass by you. As the sun sets, the mountains on either side of you begin to turn a hazy purple,adding to the unearthly quality of this landscape.

It was just as the sun set below the horizon that we pulled into Eilat.  Eilat sits at the very bottom tip of Israel jutting into the Red Sea. It's bordered on one side by Jordan and on the other by Egypt and the Sinai desert. To best picture the city itself, imagine a shrunk down Vegas strip, wrap it in a shawarma to give it a middle eastern vibe and then throw in duty free shopping since everything there is tax free. 

For lodging, I had obtained a room in a villa for the three of us on Airbnb. Our host, Dan, greeted us and showed us around the house, which was neat, clean and functioned as a club house of sorts for Dan and his buddy's diving school! Pretty cool.

Since it was getting late and we hadn't eaten all day, we all grabbed jackets (since when you've adjusted to 75 degree temperatures daily, you chill easy) and headed down to the strip on the boardwalk. Over the next few hours, beneath the bright lights of Eilat that advertised duty free, American products, we learned that Eilat is not a city known for affordable or delectable food. Jessica and I, both vegetarians found some weird soy by-product to eat, while Joe adventurously filled up on fried tonsil or sweetbreads at one of those tourist trap restaurants.  

However, we had made it from Beit She'an to Eilat, down the length of the Dead Sea to the Red Sea in one piece.  We all went to bed in our bunk beds that night very excited for the next parts of our adventure over the coming days!

Well I've Been Down So Goddamm Long, That It Looks Like Up To Me

It's been more than a little while since I've posted here. The postings have been few and far between, even though I know that many of my friends and family have been desiring updates; many of you have reached out through email, Facebook, or text to see what's been going on and offer some words of support or suggestion. Thank you for that. I hope I don't disappoint!

In the Disney movie Bambi, Thumper, Bambi's fluffy little rabbit sidekick/ moral compass of the forest, says "if you can't say somethin' nice, don't say anything at all." When I was little, Linda (my mother) seemed to have thought that these were advisable words for my young ears to hear, so she repeated it to me quite a lot. I feel this was unwarranted, but maybe, possibly I've been known to have some unsensative comments on occasion, maybe. [Hopefully my wishywashy-ness at this assertion is apparent here.] 

Over the past three months, I haven't had much nice to say. And this time, I decided to take the advice and just not say anything at all. I started plenty of blog posts, but they took me to very dark places and I decided that they were just too unpleasant to make others read and frankly, I don't want you all to worry about me. 

One aspect of keeping a blog is that you control the narrative. Instead of life being a complex mixture of highs, lows and everything in between, you're looking at the experience episodiacally. I pull from the collection of my experiences a tale or two to tell and usually it's an example of a really great adventure that's funny, cultured, or a learning experience. This is only a sliver of whole thing - there's relationships being established, expectations being met or not met, disappointment and boundaries being challenged.

Actually, the bulk of the days and weeks are made up of really mundane moments, a lot of isolation and loneliness. The truth of living abroad and trying to find a place in a culture that is not your own is that you're on the outside, looking in, trying to figure out all the basic things that everyone else has known since childhood. 

For instance, facial expressions: Americans react and show expression as they talk and oftentimes they smile and offer comforting expressions of happiness or sympathy. Israelis react after they finish speaking or listening and in the meantime, they show very little expression. 

They have what I affectionately termed the Israeli face, or the most intense and unreable poker face you've ever been forced to stare into.  I'm never sure if I'm having a conversation or an interrogation, OR no one can actually understand what I'm saying and they're just intently watching my mouth move around.  Jury is out.

But I digress...you may recall that last I wrote I was working on some issues with my teaching situation. I eventually was able to fanangle an arrangement where I now spend two days of the week teaching with Joe, another American fellow at a religious school in town. My experience there has really put into contrast just how negative things had gotten for me at the first school. My days there were insanely unstructured and inconsistent. The teacher who was assigned to be my host and mentor, spent her days loathing her job and just waiting until the bell would ring and she could leave and go home. She couldn't even really handle my presence, let alone actually give me lesson plans, or instructions. 

Most of my interactions were limited to my 9-12 year old students who premonitory cannot speak English and really don't want to learn; the adult teachers in the school had settled on a pattern of ignoring me and pretending that I didn't exist. It's partially sympathetic since they were doing it because they don't speak any English and were embarrassed about it. But when you exist in a realm of no one making eye contact with you, or acknowledging your existence, it begins to hurt, more than just on a personal level, but on a emotional one as well. 

It was incredibly dehumanizing and not receiving acknowledgement from those around me was really detrimental to my mindset. Knowing that each week meant a restart on the demoralizing experience that I had only just escaped to the weekend respite, really wore me down and took me to a very dark place. 

At one point, I attended a MASA Leadership Conference for a week, not because I felt especailly leader-y or have grandiose aspirations, but because I just wanted to be anywhere but that school for a week.  When the conference came to an end, I think I had a panic attack about going back. I had fantasies about Israel declaring a state of emergency just so that I wouldn't have to go to school. Even worse, the malaise began to have a really negative effect on my relationships. 

So, two things shifted to begin to alieviate the situation on both on a practical level and metaphysical one. On a practical level, as I mentioned earlier, I'm now teaching in a different school; I get to work with another American from the program and the host teacher at the school is incredibly competent and good at what she does. Getting to work with Joe, the other teaching fellow from Chicago is an absolute pleasure.  It's so comforting to be able to communicate with someone thorought the day and work together. Joe and I have a good report, we joke, make observations and the day flies by!

I still have to go back to teach at my first school on Monday and Thursday; it's still unpleasant and disorganized. I'm not actually sure who is in charge of me there, or what is getting accomplished. I like the kids there and I feel pretty bad that they're losing a year's worth of English instruction on account of a shitty teacher who doesn't care. There's not too much that I can do to balance that out since I work with groups of two students at a time. Mostly, all I can do is try to make the time I spend with these kids enjoyable, so that they let their guard down a little and can be themselves. Sometimes that means being less than productive, but instead letting them try to teach me how to head a soccerball, or how to play the card game Bullshit. It's unconventional and probably a questionable strategy, but there's little to no instruction coming my way, so at least this way, we all have a good time. I like to think that I'm giving them the opportunity to be themselves for a brief, 35 minutes of their day, even though we don't speak the same language. 

The metaphysical change that occurred was in my thinking. As I described I had gone to a low place in my head and was beginning to let that seep into everything. Over the weeks I had a lot of conversations with people both back in the states and with me here in Israel. Every time, they centered around how terrible I was feeling. I've always been a bit of a cynical and skeptical person, who can overthink things, but this was getting to a new point of being really annoyingly, obsessively, constantly depressed. And I didn't like it. I didn't like me. I could feel myself lashing out, being negative and so angry, but didn't know how to stop. 

I made a lot of other people responsibile for listening and validating me and what I was feeling. I needed that in order to feel anything at all and I was sort of just waiting for something to happen that would make it better. I came to realize that there's no reason why I couldn't take control and handle that responsibility myself. I decided that I was going to be happy, and it was going to happen on my terms. So I've been figuring out what that means for me. 

I've been realizing that the environment, health and wellbeing are really important aspects of life to me. These aren't values that are recognized or given much attention in the town I live in. So I certainly feel on the fringe of the community here; I don't exactly fit in, but I don't think I completely want that. 

It was actually incredibly liberating to realize this; my volunteering abroad experience wasn't going to be like last year's fellows or even those around me. I could stop measuring myself to them and find my own way. I had felt very immobilized, helpless and dependent, but now I feel more in control of where things are heading and what I want it to be. So, we'll see how it goes! 

The Lowdown on Teaching

So, a good friend and loyal blog-reader recently asked me to explain what it's like teaching here in Beit She'an.

I've been purposely scant on the details of my teaching situation and tried to give more highlights and anecdotes, rather than delve into the meaty particulars of my teaching placement in Beit She'an. 

I'm hesitant to really get into the finer aspects of my daily teaching experience since I haven't wanted to address point blank what is developing into an increasingly negative situation. Once I call it such, it's harder to cope with having nine more months to get through.  Plus, I wanted to take the high road and not descend to fingerpointing and announcing incompetentence. I've been trying my best to stay positive and focus on giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, as well as the opportunity to turn things around - which still could happen. However, in the meantime, my time spent here in the pursuit of teaching has been frustrating, to say the least. 

First, some background: I was assigned to a school whose English teacher is currently a long term substitute teacher, that is just as new to the school as I am. She has big shoes to fill - last year's English teacher was much loved, very respected and competent at what she did. She was able to hold order in the classroom, connect with the students and teach them English well. 

This is no easy task to accomplish when it comes to the Israeli school kids at my school. The politically correct way to phrase it is to call them "energetic", but that's a positive spin on their rippling energy that's tinged with bouts of violence, aggression, unwillingness to compromise and a general desire to just be wild and untamable. 

Maybe it has something to do with knowing that when they turn 18 they will head into the Israel Defense Force. There's an Israeli saying - "you can get your education back, but not your childhood"; so in the pursuit of fulfillment of their child-like wonder, the kids go balls to walls, full throttle crazy on a regular basis. This makes it very difficult for their teachers to achieve anything, least of all, educating them. Actually, come to think of it, I'm not actually sure that they even accomplish that. 

From what I've observed - and seems to be specific to my school - the teachers are typically women, who dress in the latest fashions and trends, wear high heels and nice makeup. In a county where you'd find yourself overdressed if you stepped outside of the dresscode of flip-flops and jeans, I'm not sure how school teachers became the epitome of the country's fashion palates. Maybe it developed as a survival response to the craziness that regularly surrounds them, by thinking that "if they're all crazy and don't give a shit, I might as well wear my 5 inch heels to school, since everything is going to hell anyways!" But this is my pure speculation. 

Anyways, from what I've observed, on a regular basis, some teacher is always screaming, some student is always talking back, both boys and girls punch each other, troubled students act up for attention, teachers struggle to maintain authority and dole out discipline or extreme measures, which entail a teacher pulling out her cell phone and calling the parents in the middle of class if a really bad student won't "Shek-et va shev!" (Be quiet and sit down!!!)

There's been only one time in a classroom where I've wondered if I am safe: from the moment I walked into the class, one little boy was highly volatile, capricious and could go off at the drop of a pin. He would instigate the other students and get them riled up, then play the victim with the teacher. It doesn't help that his mother is a teacher at the school, so he obviously knows that he can get away with whatever he wants with no real repercussions. He's clearly very troubled and can successfully manipulate himself away from any real consequences. In response to his behavior, the English teacher had moved him to sit next to me, but this did not reign him in and he really did not give any fucks. All of a sudden, another boy said something that sent the troubled boy leaping over the table to punch him in the head! The teacher had to haul him out of the classroom and he did not return back to the class. It was hard to watch and I'm not sure how I feel about the stopgap measures used to control this kid, while there's clearly a bigger problem that's being avoided here. 

Plus, having to adjust to this climate as well as seeing boys punch girls is hard to get used to. The girls can really hold their own and hit right back, but there's an American part of my mind that just feels that this crosses a line. However, I am not in the classroom to dole out discipline, nor be the moral compass, so all I can do is merely observe these interactions. 

So these are the conditions I face when I go to school every day. It's not exactly the cheery, welcoming environment that you'd find in America, to say the least. This makes me wonder if the students look forward to coming to school, or find it to be a rewarding experience. It troubles me that some kids who are really smart and clever are getting pushed down into the system and receiving very little recognition for how outstanding they are. 

Again, specific to my school, the level of English proficiency is very low. I can probably count on one hand the students that I could have a short conversation with in English. Most students are still struggling with letters, sounds and their understanding. The teachers are at a similar level of English, but ashamed to show this, so they don't converse with me much. This makes talking about even the most simple topics a challenge, resulting in making me feel isolated and unable to interact or convey anything. One day last week, someone locked me in the bathroom from outside and it was almost a relief to be stuck somewhere quiet and with the perfect out from awkward and strained interactions. I stayed there for a few minutes until another teacher chanced to unlock the door and force me back out into the outside. 

Obviously navigating this brand new world of Israeli school is not something I'm naturally succeeding at, so it would be wonderful to have an adept guide! In that respect, I'm left hanging, since the teacher who is assigned to host me has no idea what she is doing and astounds me daily at her level of ineptitude at teaching. In the first days, I was really open minded to her teaching ability and thought that she had been given a tough break - she seemingly has the know-how, experience and knowledge to teach English to children. But after her soaring rendition of Goldicock and the Three Bears (which I barely made it through without laughing) to a class of Special Education children, I've begun to think that she really has no idea what she is doing.

I think it's a two pronged problem: she's overwhelmed and struggling to adapt to a new school setting, as well as still getting a grasp on English. On top of that, I've been thrown into the mix and she has no idea how to utilize me and use the volunteer resource that I present. My first couple of weeks have been spent shadowing her through the four to six classes that she teaches a day, occasionally correcting her spelling and supplying a legitimating factor as she attempts to be an authoratative figure. She does this by asking me in front of her classes if she is teaching the English right  and obviously since she is trying to hold control of the class, it's difficult to call her out and say "snake isn't spelled s-a-n-k-e" or  "there's no such word as pophotoes" or "the plural of woman is not womans" because I don't feel comfortable calling her competency into doubt in front of the kids she's trying to teach. But this is tough when I see the students copying down her mistakes in their English notebooks. I suspect that the students are picking up on her lack of ineptness and that's one reason why they act up so much. Her response is a lot of yelling and a disporportionate amount of time and effort goes into maintaining order, rather than productive learning. What lessons she does manage are typically unimaginative and lack any energy. It's funny since when we do have a brief discussion on lessons afterwards she'll express that she really believes in games, music and a number of different approaches in learning, however, I have yet to see that in action. I'm beginning to see that she's much more talk than action and really lacks on any follow through. 

In terms of interactions and expectations with me, she's given me very little to go from. I told her from the get-go, that I was here to make her life easier in whatever form that might take. But she had no suggestions on what that might look like, or what form it would take. In fact, I would have no idea that my experience was so lackluster if it wasn't for meeting the fantastic English teacher from the previous year. She had a plethora of teaching experience with ITF fellows and upon meeting her, she asked if I had introduced myself and been able to begin interacting with the kids, which is how it was done in previous years. My first days were the exact opposite: the English teacher proceeded as business as usual and tried to ignore and tone down the fact that I was in her class. She made no introductions about me, even though every student was curious about my name, where I was from, age and why I was there. A month later, there are still students asking me these things. I also received no tour of orientation of the school and till this day, I'm still finding out where certain rooms are, or have no idea which class is where. 

This has all come to a point where the substitute teacher's struggles and inconsistencies are being noticed by more than just me. The principal asked the veteran English teacher to come in and provide some support and guidance. This Monday, she joined us in the classroom and singlehandedly spearheaded dividing up the class into different groups for each of us to work with. So today for the first time, I got to take a group of students work with me on their English! It was a lot of fun to finally interact with them, see their English level, play some games and learn some Hebrew from them! 

But this also really revealed to me how there is a real lack of expectation and execution, as well as a frustrating amount of miscommunication taking place. The substitute English teacher does not follow through on any preparation and clear lesson plans and does not take responsibility for it. 

As you read this and have your own thoughts, I don't want you to think that this is the norm. Not all schools, teachers or students in Beit She'an are like this. The other ITF teachers at other schools all work with very capable and intelligent English teachers, who are excellent and really great at what they do. They have great students and are being utilized and working hard. 

Also my issue is being addressed and should not be allowed to continue this way. My coordinator has gotten involved and is aware of the situation and I believe it will not be continuing in this vein. The concept is that I'm here to provide a supportive English teaching resource and if it isn't used in this location, it will be elsewhere.

When I go into school bright and early tomorrow morning, I'm optimistic that the situation will be different. Between my coordinator and the veteran English teacher, expectations have been laid out and I hope a new leaf will be turned over! Hopefully it's not too late to hit the restart button!