(Started in Jerusalem...Finished in London):
My bags are packed and I'm in my favourite coffee place having an ice 'Limonana' (lemonade with fresh mint - yum) reflecting on the last two months. My taxi is coming in an hour...
It's been life changing and life affirming. Parts have been hard and parts have been emotional. I have moved forward in so many ways but ironically, I am coming back with as much trepidation about going home as I had about coming here in the first place. I have been learning and been challenged constantly - about Israel, about people, about my history, my values and of course, my future. I have loved it all.
Living here, particularly in the last few weeks, has an amazing way of helping to put everything into perspective. Everyone seems to know what's really important, what matters. Here, you are making life-death decisions on a daily or even hourly basis. Ein Baya, "It doesn't matter", is a national catchphrase.
I loved Pardes (the place where I was studying) and finishing my course last Thursday was quite overwhelming. I was surprised by how much I much I had covered in just three weeks - and in awe of how little I had done at the same time. As someone in my class (a successful international lawyer) said "I feel I need to check myself into Yeshiva for the next 10 years".
I spent my last Shabbat in Jerusalem with friends, new and old. I tried to have the real 'Yerushalmi' (Jerusalemite) experience by going to Machne Yehuda, the main market in Jerusalem, to do the food shopping, followed by a very spiritual Kabbalat Shabbat service at Yakar, a small shul (synagogue) close to where I live. All ten dinner guests helped to prepare the meal, including a guy who made absolutely divine homemade challot (Girls, let me know if any of you want his number: He's from Chicago, but living in the NY area - was an actor but is now a cantorial student...!). As we were singing zmirot until the early hours, I realised that all the silver, crystal and china in the world can't make up for true ruach (spirit) and the feeling of being totally happy. And it almost goes without saying that the night finished with the proverbial visit to the Kotel (Western Wall) at 1am.
On Sunday I went to spend two lovely days in Herzlyia with Ruth and Anthony - which was great for my tan, but not so great for my waistline. But as we sat by the pool and in the restaurants, with army choppers and fighter jets flying over head, it was difficult to forget what was going on 50 miles up the road in Haifa.
Back in Jerusalem, I spent the last few days soaking up its unique atmosphere and doing some of my favourite things one more time, including doing my bit for the Israeli economy.
***
So, this is where I end my blog and start seeing you all in person to tell you more about my trip and my experiences. Some customary thank yous: To those of you in Israel who looked after me with unconditional warmth during the last two months and helped make my sabbatical trip so special and to those of you in England who kept in touch and especially those of who you came to see me. And to those in both places who have given me so much advice, guidance and support through it all - I love you all lots.
Yala, bye.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
Ha'Matzav
So, the situation, the matsav in Israel is a little tense at the moment.
As I sit in a coffee shop in Jerusalem watching history unfold in front of me, I am proud to be here living and sharing in what is going on. My sense of belonging here is strengthened by the hour as I follow the developments and get utterly frustrated at the way the "situation" is being reported outside of Israel. Somewhere along the line the major international news agencies seem to have forgotten that it was Israeli soldiers that were kidnapped first and Katushas which were fired at Israeli towns first. I wonder what action Britain would take if rockets began falling on London and soldiers were captured from inside its borders?
There is no doubt that these are serious times and as families across the north of Israel and in the south too, spend another night in bomb shelters, I pray that the situation is resolved quickly and that the missing soldiers are returned to their families as soon as possible.
Although there are some students from my course have brought their flights forward, in Jerusalem life is carrying on pretty much as normal...
Last Thurdsay, I did something I had been meaning to do since I arrived - I visited Gush Etzion, a collection of settlements south of Jerusalem. I took the bulletproof bus from Jerusalem's central bus station to Efrat and amazingly the 45 minute journey cost me 5.90 shekels (about 70 pence). I went to vist Reut, the girl I had been helping when I was working at Neve Michael. She lives in Efrat, a large and well established settlement, but she took me on a tour of some other smaller communities: Alon Shvut, Bat Eyin and Kfar Etzion. Political beliefs aside, these are beautiful, very close knit communities, and in many ways the Zionist pioneers of the 21st century.
On Friday morning, I organised a tour for a small group from Pardes, of the ultra-orthodox neighbourhoods of Jerusalem which was really fascinating. Although I have been to Mea Shearim before, it was amazing to have an insight into the history and sociology of such a closed sect thanks to our tour guide Rabbi Julian Sinclair (of Cambridge uni fame). One thing he said really struck me, as we stood in front of a building which he said summed up the area: On the ground floor a cheder, a religious school for children; on the second floor the mikvah, the ritual baths used to keep the laws of family purity; and on the top floor the Bet Din, the religious court. Post-Holocaust, the ultra-orthodox communities which had previously flourished across eastern Europe, were totally desimated and were forced to distill their values down to their bare minimum and begin rebuilding in a new country. This building symbolised the three things which the charedi, religious, communities of Mea Shearim felt were the most important in their survival: education, family and the law of Torah as the framework for life.
Since I last wrote I've als seen three films at the Jerusalem film festival, bought my first Talmud, sampled more of Jerusalem's eateries and spent a very special Shabbat with friends from my course. I have also been attending classes and am learning a huge amount and being inspired and challenged in new ways each day.
Thank you to those of you who have e-mailed and called to check I am okay. Thank Gd I am safe here and continue to make the most of every moment (eating more roggelach than you can imagine!).
Loads of love from Jerusalem x
As I sit in a coffee shop in Jerusalem watching history unfold in front of me, I am proud to be here living and sharing in what is going on. My sense of belonging here is strengthened by the hour as I follow the developments and get utterly frustrated at the way the "situation" is being reported outside of Israel. Somewhere along the line the major international news agencies seem to have forgotten that it was Israeli soldiers that were kidnapped first and Katushas which were fired at Israeli towns first. I wonder what action Britain would take if rockets began falling on London and soldiers were captured from inside its borders?
There is no doubt that these are serious times and as families across the north of Israel and in the south too, spend another night in bomb shelters, I pray that the situation is resolved quickly and that the missing soldiers are returned to their families as soon as possible.
Although there are some students from my course have brought their flights forward, in Jerusalem life is carrying on pretty much as normal...
Last Thurdsay, I did something I had been meaning to do since I arrived - I visited Gush Etzion, a collection of settlements south of Jerusalem. I took the bulletproof bus from Jerusalem's central bus station to Efrat and amazingly the 45 minute journey cost me 5.90 shekels (about 70 pence). I went to vist Reut, the girl I had been helping when I was working at Neve Michael. She lives in Efrat, a large and well established settlement, but she took me on a tour of some other smaller communities: Alon Shvut, Bat Eyin and Kfar Etzion. Political beliefs aside, these are beautiful, very close knit communities, and in many ways the Zionist pioneers of the 21st century.
On Friday morning, I organised a tour for a small group from Pardes, of the ultra-orthodox neighbourhoods of Jerusalem which was really fascinating. Although I have been to Mea Shearim before, it was amazing to have an insight into the history and sociology of such a closed sect thanks to our tour guide Rabbi Julian Sinclair (of Cambridge uni fame). One thing he said really struck me, as we stood in front of a building which he said summed up the area: On the ground floor a cheder, a religious school for children; on the second floor the mikvah, the ritual baths used to keep the laws of family purity; and on the top floor the Bet Din, the religious court. Post-Holocaust, the ultra-orthodox communities which had previously flourished across eastern Europe, were totally desimated and were forced to distill their values down to their bare minimum and begin rebuilding in a new country. This building symbolised the three things which the charedi, religious, communities of Mea Shearim felt were the most important in their survival: education, family and the law of Torah as the framework for life.
Since I last wrote I've als seen three films at the Jerusalem film festival, bought my first Talmud, sampled more of Jerusalem's eateries and spent a very special Shabbat with friends from my course. I have also been attending classes and am learning a huge amount and being inspired and challenged in new ways each day.
Thank you to those of you who have e-mailed and called to check I am okay. Thank Gd I am safe here and continue to make the most of every moment (eating more roggelach than you can imagine!).
Loads of love from Jerusalem x
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Yerushalyim
I've been suffering from severe case of blog-guilt for the last few days. I understand this is a common complaint among bloggers, induced by the pressure of finding the content for and writing regular posts. I know this entry is well-overdue.
I have been back in Jerusalem for about 10 days now and it's been non-stop: moving into my apartment, starting my studies at Pardes, seeing various visitors from London, sightseeing, partying and a bout of tonsillitis thrown in for good measure (which I am just recovering from).
It has been a real pleasure ‘living’ in Jerusalem. I am so excited to have the key to an apartment here and it’s a great feeling to own a few hundred square feet in this city – even if it is only temporary. I am also enjoying grocery shopping in a supermarket where everything is kosher. I tell you it makes things a lot quicker when you don’t need to read the list of ingredients on every packet you pick up – and it’s a real novelty to have the pick of the cheese counter.
The location of my flat couldn’t be better. In the mornings I have a 15 minute walk in the sunshine to where my course is, past lots of cute shops and coffee places. This is what everyone’s commute should be like, right?
Pardes. It turns out, there is so much learn about everything, and each day I am reminded that I know even less. There are about 100 students on the July summer programme: 93 are from North America, there is one other Brit, three Australians, one Argentinean and a German, all between the ages of about 21 – 75 years old and from a whole range of backgrounds. I think this is what really makes Pardes special compared to some other seminaries and yeshivot. The teaching is brilliant and I have chosen a mixture of classes: Beginners Talmud (Masechet Brachot, Chapter 4 - the one on Amidah, if you’re interested); A class on four of Maimonides’ 13 principles; and ‘Why bad things happen to good people?’.
Classes are from 8.45am – 5.00pm, Sunday to Thursday lunchtime, so the days are long and weeks are full. But I am keen not just to do “Pardes” while I am here. My evenings, nights and early hours have been spent seeing other bits of Jerusalem. Various friends’ trips to Israel have meant that as well as catching up on all the gossip in the last two editions of the JC, I have had an excuse to try out some of the really good restaurants in town.
I have been back in Jerusalem for about 10 days now and it's been non-stop: moving into my apartment, starting my studies at Pardes, seeing various visitors from London, sightseeing, partying and a bout of tonsillitis thrown in for good measure (which I am just recovering from).
It has been a real pleasure ‘living’ in Jerusalem. I am so excited to have the key to an apartment here and it’s a great feeling to own a few hundred square feet in this city – even if it is only temporary. I am also enjoying grocery shopping in a supermarket where everything is kosher. I tell you it makes things a lot quicker when you don’t need to read the list of ingredients on every packet you pick up – and it’s a real novelty to have the pick of the cheese counter.
The location of my flat couldn’t be better. In the mornings I have a 15 minute walk in the sunshine to where my course is, past lots of cute shops and coffee places. This is what everyone’s commute should be like, right?
Pardes. It turns out, there is so much learn about everything, and each day I am reminded that I know even less. There are about 100 students on the July summer programme: 93 are from North America, there is one other Brit, three Australians, one Argentinean and a German, all between the ages of about 21 – 75 years old and from a whole range of backgrounds. I think this is what really makes Pardes special compared to some other seminaries and yeshivot. The teaching is brilliant and I have chosen a mixture of classes: Beginners Talmud (Masechet Brachot, Chapter 4 - the one on Amidah, if you’re interested); A class on four of Maimonides’ 13 principles; and ‘Why bad things happen to good people?’.
Classes are from 8.45am – 5.00pm, Sunday to Thursday lunchtime, so the days are long and weeks are full. But I am keen not just to do “Pardes” while I am here. My evenings, nights and early hours have been spent seeing other bits of Jerusalem. Various friends’ trips to Israel have meant that as well as catching up on all the gossip in the last two editions of the JC, I have had an excuse to try out some of the really good restaurants in town.
Famous sculpture in the Israel Museum sculpture garden: Ahava (Love), by Robert Indiana
I am going to a couple of films at the Jerusalem film festival this week and have planned some interesting day trips which hopefully I can tell you about in the next updates.
***
I couldn’t write this post without mentioning Alan Senitt z'l who I have been thinking about so much since Sunday. I am sure you will have all heard by now, the devastating and shocking news about his attack in Washington D.C. Before the summer we were both working in Westminster and were in touch before starting our respective trips abroad. I knew Alan through UJS and was always in total admiration about is ability to appear calm and smiling all the time. He definitely found his calling and was a total natural at what he did. There will definitely be a void in the Anglo-Jewish community without him, but it is undoubtedly so much richer for what he contributed to it. I will really miss him.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Trinny v’Susannah
Since my last post, I finished my volunteering stint at Neve Michael. It was an amazing experience and it felt very special to be part of the society and working here. So far, my trip feels like it is panning out exactly how a sabbatical should. I really hope that I can stay in touch with the people there and hopefully follow up with how the children are getting on.
Last Friday morning, I made my way to Tel Aviv and met up with Ariella (Kalms) and her family for Shabbat. Needless to say I was exceptionally well fed and watered and really enjoyed their warm and food oriented hospitality for a couple of days. Thank you!
I managed to see a little of the city on Friday when I wandered down to Shenkin Street for a couple of hours. Shenkin Street is a bit like Camden and being Friday (the Israeli weekend is Friday and Saturday), it was heaving.
Fashion is Israel is certainly…what’s the word…unique. More so than anywhere else I have ever been, what you wear reflects who you are and what you believe in, and the level of your religious observance is most definitely the biggest influence to what you wear and how you wear it.
At one end (the ultra religious end that is) you have men in dark wool suits and white shirts whatever the temperature sporting velvet kippot (yarmulkes) and women with their hair totally covered with a sheital (wig) or scarf, wearing sandals together with thick tights. Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum (yes, I know everyone thinks they’re in the middle), the men are recognisable by their knitted kippot and the women will wear headscarves or hats with possibly some hair exposed. These more modern orthodox women and girls tend to find open toed “sandalim” acceptable and they’ve adopted a fashion of wearing skirts over skirts and trousers under skirts. I actually really like it.
My descriptions are by no means fixed and there are definitely variations. For example, the bigger the circumference of your kippah and the tightness of its knit have different significances, and the settlement communities embrace their own distinctive style, which includes some men wearing tzitsit (fringed prayer shawl) over their clothes and penchant for all things orange. (Orange ribbons became the symbol of solidarity with the evacuee families from the West Bank last summer)
And as for the rest of the country, who come under the Chiloni (or secular) category, they have their own equally individual fashion sense. At the moment ‘Crocs’ are all the rage. These are plastic clogs available in a selection of rainbow colours and which would not look out of place as part of surgeon’s scrubs. Somehow, I don’t see these taking on in London.
This is also the land of the platform shoe. Thick platform soled shoes are worn by all girls and women here – perhaps as an antidote to the fact that we are particularly short people? I’m not sure.
But don’t think that Israelis can’t be stylish. If you know where to go, you can find clothes, jewellery, interiors and art which are both modern and beautiful.
***
After a brief stop back in Jerusalem on Sunday to leave my bags and watch the football, I met up with Lisa (Wilton) on Monday morning and we came to the Dead Sea, which is where I find myself writing at this moment in time.
It’s 36 degrees here and feels like you are walking into an oven every time you step outside the hotel. But the views are sensational. In front of the hotel we can see the very still, oil-like, sea with the Jordanian hills on the horizon. Behind us are the dramatic red rock formations of the Judean desert. I am pleased to report that we have been doing very little other than sitting by the pool, reading, playing Sudoku and being pampered. I am also using the time to psych myself up for becoming a “sem girl” as of Friday!
Loads of luck to England for Saturday and to the Brits left in Wimbledon. Must go now to help Lisa with her Sudoku…
Last Friday morning, I made my way to Tel Aviv and met up with Ariella (Kalms) and her family for Shabbat. Needless to say I was exceptionally well fed and watered and really enjoyed their warm and food oriented hospitality for a couple of days. Thank you!
I managed to see a little of the city on Friday when I wandered down to Shenkin Street for a couple of hours. Shenkin Street is a bit like Camden and being Friday (the Israeli weekend is Friday and Saturday), it was heaving.
Fashion is Israel is certainly…what’s the word…unique. More so than anywhere else I have ever been, what you wear reflects who you are and what you believe in, and the level of your religious observance is most definitely the biggest influence to what you wear and how you wear it.
At one end (the ultra religious end that is) you have men in dark wool suits and white shirts whatever the temperature sporting velvet kippot (yarmulkes) and women with their hair totally covered with a sheital (wig) or scarf, wearing sandals together with thick tights. Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum (yes, I know everyone thinks they’re in the middle), the men are recognisable by their knitted kippot and the women will wear headscarves or hats with possibly some hair exposed. These more modern orthodox women and girls tend to find open toed “sandalim” acceptable and they’ve adopted a fashion of wearing skirts over skirts and trousers under skirts. I actually really like it.
My descriptions are by no means fixed and there are definitely variations. For example, the bigger the circumference of your kippah and the tightness of its knit have different significances, and the settlement communities embrace their own distinctive style, which includes some men wearing tzitsit (fringed prayer shawl) over their clothes and penchant for all things orange. (Orange ribbons became the symbol of solidarity with the evacuee families from the West Bank last summer)
And as for the rest of the country, who come under the Chiloni (or secular) category, they have their own equally individual fashion sense. At the moment ‘Crocs’ are all the rage. These are plastic clogs available in a selection of rainbow colours and which would not look out of place as part of surgeon’s scrubs. Somehow, I don’t see these taking on in London.
This is also the land of the platform shoe. Thick platform soled shoes are worn by all girls and women here – perhaps as an antidote to the fact that we are particularly short people? I’m not sure.
But don’t think that Israelis can’t be stylish. If you know where to go, you can find clothes, jewellery, interiors and art which are both modern and beautiful.
***
After a brief stop back in Jerusalem on Sunday to leave my bags and watch the football, I met up with Lisa (Wilton) on Monday morning and we came to the Dead Sea, which is where I find myself writing at this moment in time.
It’s 36 degrees here and feels like you are walking into an oven every time you step outside the hotel. But the views are sensational. In front of the hotel we can see the very still, oil-like, sea with the Jordanian hills on the horizon. Behind us are the dramatic red rock formations of the Judean desert. I am pleased to report that we have been doing very little other than sitting by the pool, reading, playing Sudoku and being pampered. I am also using the time to psych myself up for becoming a “sem girl” as of Friday!
Loads of luck to England for Saturday and to the Brits left in Wimbledon. Must go now to help Lisa with her Sudoku…
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Golani 12
Yesterday morning my 21-year old cousin, Yonatan, a commander in the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) or Tzahal (the acronym by which it is commonly known as here), picked me up from Neve Michael and took me to spend the morning at his army base. He is in the Golani brigade, one of the oldest and most highly decorated in the IDF, and their training base is close by on the other side of the Green Line.
To get there we drove through country roads, slightly off the beaten track, until we slowly began to ascend a hill and as we came to the top, I was awe struck by two things which consumed my field of vision. To my left, an enormous campus of buildings, satellites and army vans protected on all sides by barbed fences and electric gates. Straight ahead, the Arab village of Kvar Qar’ia which is more densely populated with buildings and mosques than anything I have seen since arriving in Israel.
Growing up, I am sure my girlfriends from home will agree, there is something very alluring about Israeli soldiers. I still remember Gil – the soldier that accompanied our tour group around Israel when I was 16. But ten years later (it is actually nine and a large fraction), this mystique has evaporated, now that these young men are mostly 18, 19 or 20 and appear to be big boys playing with guns that just happen to be real.
In this recently built base, soldiers sleep 16 to a room on metal bunks with thin mattresses. I smiled wryly when some of the older soldiers (24 year olds) said that the new soldiers had it too easy because they remembered when they had to sleep in tents with rain pouring through in the winter.
Yonatan’s VIP tour included the firing ranges where the newest recruits were being trained and tested on their shooting skills. Standing behind eight machine guns all being fired simultaneously is an experience which I won’t forget in a long time. Even with ear plugs and knowing what was about to happen, I still found it terrifying.
While I was there, I felt incredibly sheltered and naïve, surrounded by soldiers who have endured some of the toughest army training in the world, survived on a couple hours of sleep a night for three years and who have seen and done things which I can’t even bring myself to imagine never mind write about. No amount of qualifications or career promotions can make me feel anything other than totally inadequate in front of these (mainly) guys who have given up three or more years to protect Israel on the frontline.
I also met Yonatan’s officer. At 23, he is “professional solidier” who decided to stay on after his military service. He is responsible for 125 soldiers and is a real sweetie. We had a lovely chat and he was telling me how badly paid soldiers are. New soldiers get paid 350 NIS (£437) a month and once they've finished their basic training this goes up to 700 NIS a month (£875). For those soldiers from immigrant families where they are the only breadwinners this is especially difficult.
I hear that army food isn’t too bad (it is a Jewish army after all), but in solidarity with the IDF soldiers, Yonatan made me try Loof. I think this is the kosher equivalent to spam and it is part of the provisions soldiers are given when they go out to the field. It’s the sort of thing that can survive anything and just so you know, it tastes like the inside of cheap sausages and has an absolutely revolting aftertaste.
I must admit that I left the base with an overwhelming sense of pride in what these young men were doing and with a strengthened sense of Zionism and purpose here. These feelings weren’t embedded in any political views one way or the other, but rather in the fact that this army which I had dipped into for just a morning, was a tangible experience of a Jewish state. Like Israeli stamps and the Israeli flag, it makes you feel patriotic and protective of what has been created and fought for in the last 58 years.
Me and Yonatan
***
Other news: Last weekend I left the dizzy lights of Pardes Channah and went to live it up for a few days in Herzlyia Pituach. Sandra and I passed the time very leisurely…breakfast on the beach with lots of good looking men running past…tried the latest steak restaurant in the trendy industrial zone (- it’s called Meat & Wine Co. and was very good)…and went to Neve Tzedek, the picturesque artisan quarter of Tel Aviv, for a spot of shopping and an ice cream. Pretty perfect really.
On Sunday night I went to Mod’in, for a party for the brit of my cousins Elodie and Laurent’s new baby. For those of you who know them, here’s a picture of baby Uriel Meir and his mummy:
***
Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to the children at Neve Michael before I leave for Tel Aviv on Friday. The plan is to be back in Jerusalem to watch the football on Sunday: Come on England!
To get there we drove through country roads, slightly off the beaten track, until we slowly began to ascend a hill and as we came to the top, I was awe struck by two things which consumed my field of vision. To my left, an enormous campus of buildings, satellites and army vans protected on all sides by barbed fences and electric gates. Straight ahead, the Arab village of Kvar Qar’ia which is more densely populated with buildings and mosques than anything I have seen since arriving in Israel.
Growing up, I am sure my girlfriends from home will agree, there is something very alluring about Israeli soldiers. I still remember Gil – the soldier that accompanied our tour group around Israel when I was 16. But ten years later (it is actually nine and a large fraction), this mystique has evaporated, now that these young men are mostly 18, 19 or 20 and appear to be big boys playing with guns that just happen to be real.
In this recently built base, soldiers sleep 16 to a room on metal bunks with thin mattresses. I smiled wryly when some of the older soldiers (24 year olds) said that the new soldiers had it too easy because they remembered when they had to sleep in tents with rain pouring through in the winter.
Yonatan’s VIP tour included the firing ranges where the newest recruits were being trained and tested on their shooting skills. Standing behind eight machine guns all being fired simultaneously is an experience which I won’t forget in a long time. Even with ear plugs and knowing what was about to happen, I still found it terrifying.
While I was there, I felt incredibly sheltered and naïve, surrounded by soldiers who have endured some of the toughest army training in the world, survived on a couple hours of sleep a night for three years and who have seen and done things which I can’t even bring myself to imagine never mind write about. No amount of qualifications or career promotions can make me feel anything other than totally inadequate in front of these (mainly) guys who have given up three or more years to protect Israel on the frontline.
I also met Yonatan’s officer. At 23, he is “professional solidier” who decided to stay on after his military service. He is responsible for 125 soldiers and is a real sweetie. We had a lovely chat and he was telling me how badly paid soldiers are. New soldiers get paid 350 NIS (£437) a month and once they've finished their basic training this goes up to 700 NIS a month (£875). For those soldiers from immigrant families where they are the only breadwinners this is especially difficult.
I hear that army food isn’t too bad (it is a Jewish army after all), but in solidarity with the IDF soldiers, Yonatan made me try Loof. I think this is the kosher equivalent to spam and it is part of the provisions soldiers are given when they go out to the field. It’s the sort of thing that can survive anything and just so you know, it tastes like the inside of cheap sausages and has an absolutely revolting aftertaste.
I must admit that I left the base with an overwhelming sense of pride in what these young men were doing and with a strengthened sense of Zionism and purpose here. These feelings weren’t embedded in any political views one way or the other, but rather in the fact that this army which I had dipped into for just a morning, was a tangible experience of a Jewish state. Like Israeli stamps and the Israeli flag, it makes you feel patriotic and protective of what has been created and fought for in the last 58 years.
Me and Yonatan
***
Other news: Last weekend I left the dizzy lights of Pardes Channah and went to live it up for a few days in Herzlyia Pituach. Sandra and I passed the time very leisurely…breakfast on the beach with lots of good looking men running past…tried the latest steak restaurant in the trendy industrial zone (- it’s called Meat & Wine Co. and was very good)…and went to Neve Tzedek, the picturesque artisan quarter of Tel Aviv, for a spot of shopping and an ice cream. Pretty perfect really.
On Sunday night I went to Mod’in, for a party for the brit of my cousins Elodie and Laurent’s new baby. For those of you who know them, here’s a picture of baby Uriel Meir and his mummy:
***
Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to the children at Neve Michael before I leave for Tel Aviv on Friday. The plan is to be back in Jerusalem to watch the football on Sunday: Come on England!
Friday, June 16, 2006
Ze mamash yaffe
Since arriving there is no doubt that my Hebrew has improved. But I have started a list of words for which I cannot find adequate English translations, but which are used in practically every sentence here. So far I have: mamash, betach and dafka. I am not sure that there are rules for their use, but what these words often tend to do is to emphasis a point. Israelis love emphasising the point.
***
After a week of cutting, gluing, laminating, colouring and decorating, interspersed with countless singing and dancing rehearsals and a daily countdown by the children, last night was the annual bar and bat mitzvah celebration at Neve Michael. It was mamash yaffe, yaffe. (In this instance mamash means ‘really, really’ and the repetition of the word yaffe, meaning ‘nice’, adds an extra superlative dimension to the sentence).
Ashagar, Banchi and Mistual all dressed for their brother's Bar Mitzvah
Everyone worked so hard to make it a night to remember, in particular for those children marking such an important right of passage and whose parents could not mark it for them. The highlight of the evening was the show that all the children took part in and put so much effort in to, learning words and dance routines. Two of my children couldn’t quite master the art of singing and dancing at the same time so we gave them guitars to ‘play’ instead!
Daniel and Aviel 'playing' the guitar
For me though this last week hasn’t only been about the bnei mitzvot. After a week of being here, I felt I had really settled in, made friends and established a routine which is both rewarding and exhausting in equal measures. It is an experience which is teaching me to overcome new challenges everyday, adapt to the nuances of a different culture (both national and religious) and it has brought back lots of memories of my youth movement days (sharing a bathroom with six other people, set meal times and a weekly menu on rotation to name just a few).
And my time in Pardes Channah has definitely been more than just Neve Michael...
Last Friday, I had dinner with Hava and David Levene and six of their 11 children. (The longer I am here, the less I am finding this figure surprising.) Hava is the head of fundraising at Neve Michael and she and her husband are American, so it was a good chance to practice my English. They have really looked after me, taken me out in the evenings to air me out, and I really feel like their honorary 12th child at the moment.
On Tuesday morning, I took a trip with Batia Weinberg, Director of the One Family charity in the north of Israel. One Family gives emotional, legal and financial support to families who have been affected in some way by the terrorist attacks here, and it is one of the charities that the Benjamin Angel Foundation is supporting. In Batia’s patch alone, she looks after over 600 families and I accompanied her on a home visit to see a couple who although losing their daughter in October, have only recently had their status changed to ‘victims of terror’. Zvika and Shoshana’s daughter Kassie, 27, was a security guard in a mall in Netanya. On the 23rd October she took a ride home with an Arab boy who was a waiter in a restaurant. Her body was found the next day in a forest near Chadera. At first it was thought that it was lover’s tiff. But in fact, having arrested the guy, it turns out he was paid by Hamas to kill her.
As you can imagine this was difficult for so many reasons, but I am pleased that I was able to see first hand the work we are supporting in Benjamin’s name. One Family will now buy an air conditioning unit for Shoshana who has terminal cancer and will help the family access the benefits they are entitled to from the state, including counselling and grants for their younger children to go on to higher education.
***
I’m on weekend parole as of today, and I’ve come to Herzlyia to enjoy, in order of priority: the beach (I really need to start working on the tan), a good steak and Sandra who has come out for a wedding. (Sorry Sandra, but I can see you in London after all!)
I am back at Neve Michael on Sunday, for my last week there, before I take some time out to see some of the country and then it’s back to Jerusalem. It all seems to be going so fast….
***
After a week of cutting, gluing, laminating, colouring and decorating, interspersed with countless singing and dancing rehearsals and a daily countdown by the children, last night was the annual bar and bat mitzvah celebration at Neve Michael. It was mamash yaffe, yaffe. (In this instance mamash means ‘really, really’ and the repetition of the word yaffe, meaning ‘nice’, adds an extra superlative dimension to the sentence).Ashagar, Banchi and Mistual all dressed for their brother's Bar Mitzvah
Everyone worked so hard to make it a night to remember, in particular for those children marking such an important right of passage and whose parents could not mark it for them. The highlight of the evening was the show that all the children took part in and put so much effort in to, learning words and dance routines. Two of my children couldn’t quite master the art of singing and dancing at the same time so we gave them guitars to ‘play’ instead!Daniel and Aviel 'playing' the guitar
For me though this last week hasn’t only been about the bnei mitzvot. After a week of being here, I felt I had really settled in, made friends and established a routine which is both rewarding and exhausting in equal measures. It is an experience which is teaching me to overcome new challenges everyday, adapt to the nuances of a different culture (both national and religious) and it has brought back lots of memories of my youth movement days (sharing a bathroom with six other people, set meal times and a weekly menu on rotation to name just a few).
And my time in Pardes Channah has definitely been more than just Neve Michael...
Last Friday, I had dinner with Hava and David Levene and six of their 11 children. (The longer I am here, the less I am finding this figure surprising.) Hava is the head of fundraising at Neve Michael and she and her husband are American, so it was a good chance to practice my English. They have really looked after me, taken me out in the evenings to air me out, and I really feel like their honorary 12th child at the moment.
On Tuesday morning, I took a trip with Batia Weinberg, Director of the One Family charity in the north of Israel. One Family gives emotional, legal and financial support to families who have been affected in some way by the terrorist attacks here, and it is one of the charities that the Benjamin Angel Foundation is supporting. In Batia’s patch alone, she looks after over 600 families and I accompanied her on a home visit to see a couple who although losing their daughter in October, have only recently had their status changed to ‘victims of terror’. Zvika and Shoshana’s daughter Kassie, 27, was a security guard in a mall in Netanya. On the 23rd October she took a ride home with an Arab boy who was a waiter in a restaurant. Her body was found the next day in a forest near Chadera. At first it was thought that it was lover’s tiff. But in fact, having arrested the guy, it turns out he was paid by Hamas to kill her.
As you can imagine this was difficult for so many reasons, but I am pleased that I was able to see first hand the work we are supporting in Benjamin’s name. One Family will now buy an air conditioning unit for Shoshana who has terminal cancer and will help the family access the benefits they are entitled to from the state, including counselling and grants for their younger children to go on to higher education.
***
I’m on weekend parole as of today, and I’ve come to Herzlyia to enjoy, in order of priority: the beach (I really need to start working on the tan), a good steak and Sandra who has come out for a wedding. (Sorry Sandra, but I can see you in London after all!)
I am back at Neve Michael on Sunday, for my last week there, before I take some time out to see some of the country and then it’s back to Jerusalem. It all seems to be going so fast….
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Yom Huledet L'Daniel
A few photos from Daniel's birthday which we celebrated on Friday at his kindergarten with games, songs and chocolate cake. His mum and dad came too and I found that really difficult because, of course, he came back with us and not with them.
Daniel and his mum
...Also a few more of the children using up some excess energy in the gym!
Ashagar
Aviel
Daniel and his mum...Also a few more of the children using up some excess energy in the gym!
Ashagar
Aviel
Friday, June 09, 2006
Ken, achi
Israel has the highest mobile phone ownership rate per capita and in the streets you can constantly hear young people answering with words: “Ken Achi” – “yes my brother”.
Of course most of the time, it’s just a friend on the other end, but I think it’s indicative of the fact that Israel is just one huge family. Everyone has been so warm, inviting me to their homes and giving me contact details just in case I am passing their neighbourhood. And being part of a big family means that Israelis have no qualms asking you personal questions – and why wouldn’t you want to tell your extended “family” about how much you earn or how much rent you pay?
Since I wrote last I have been on a long journey experiencing different parts of the country – but have only travelled about 150 miles.
Five days ago I left the holiness, intensity and familiarity of Jerusalem to go north. But before I left I spent Sunday catching up with some friends who have already made the leap of Aliyah (literally meaning “going up”, but is also the term used to describe moving to Israel.) Alon, Calev and Dan seem very happy and despite having clearly given up many of the material trappings of living in London, they have obviously gained so much in other ways. All three pointed out to me that in Israel there are the first two generations of Jewish people in thousands of years to be born not knowing what it is like to feel like a minority. There is no doubt that being in Israel this time around, I have had the opportunity to see the country in a different way and I can’t say I haven’t thought about the potential of starting Geronimo’s first international branch.
Having spent a day with my parents in the seaside resort of Netayna, I made my way to Pardes Channah, a pretty ordinary Israeli town on the face of it. It doesn’t even make it into the Rough Guide for Israel (which you can tell was clearly looking to fill space when it suggests under background reading: the bible). But here I have discovered here an incredibly special place, more than worthy of a mention.
The best way to describe Neve Michael (The oasis of Michael) is a kibbutz for children and young people from 4-18 years old who cannot live with their biological parents for whatever reason. Some are here while foster and adoption homes are found for them. Others live here for ten or more years until they go into the army.
I have been assigned to help Re’ut a girl who on religious grounds, has decided to spend a year doing national community service, rather do her military service. She looks after a smaller than usual group of five children. Two brothers (Daniel, 7 and Aviel, 5) and three sisters from Ethiopia (Metsual 7, Ashagar 6, and Banchi 5). They are utterly gorgeous and I find it so hard to understand why they are here and why they aren’t home with their mummies and daddies. (Daniel and Aviel are two of five children and their mother had a breakdown after she had her last baby. The girls are here because their father killed their mother. Their older brother is also at Neve Michael).
Of course most of the time, it’s just a friend on the other end, but I think it’s indicative of the fact that Israel is just one huge family. Everyone has been so warm, inviting me to their homes and giving me contact details just in case I am passing their neighbourhood. And being part of a big family means that Israelis have no qualms asking you personal questions – and why wouldn’t you want to tell your extended “family” about how much you earn or how much rent you pay?
Since I wrote last I have been on a long journey experiencing different parts of the country – but have only travelled about 150 miles.
Five days ago I left the holiness, intensity and familiarity of Jerusalem to go north. But before I left I spent Sunday catching up with some friends who have already made the leap of Aliyah (literally meaning “going up”, but is also the term used to describe moving to Israel.) Alon, Calev and Dan seem very happy and despite having clearly given up many of the material trappings of living in London, they have obviously gained so much in other ways. All three pointed out to me that in Israel there are the first two generations of Jewish people in thousands of years to be born not knowing what it is like to feel like a minority. There is no doubt that being in Israel this time around, I have had the opportunity to see the country in a different way and I can’t say I haven’t thought about the potential of starting Geronimo’s first international branch.
Having spent a day with my parents in the seaside resort of Netayna, I made my way to Pardes Channah, a pretty ordinary Israeli town on the face of it. It doesn’t even make it into the Rough Guide for Israel (which you can tell was clearly looking to fill space when it suggests under background reading: the bible). But here I have discovered here an incredibly special place, more than worthy of a mention.
The best way to describe Neve Michael (The oasis of Michael) is a kibbutz for children and young people from 4-18 years old who cannot live with their biological parents for whatever reason. Some are here while foster and adoption homes are found for them. Others live here for ten or more years until they go into the army.
I have been assigned to help Re’ut a girl who on religious grounds, has decided to spend a year doing national community service, rather do her military service. She looks after a smaller than usual group of five children. Two brothers (Daniel, 7 and Aviel, 5) and three sisters from Ethiopia (Metsual 7, Ashagar 6, and Banchi 5). They are utterly gorgeous and I find it so hard to understand why they are here and why they aren’t home with their mummies and daddies. (Daniel and Aviel are two of five children and their mother had a breakdown after she had her last baby. The girls are here because their father killed their mother. Their older brother is also at Neve Michael).
My schedule is panning out a little bit like this: I meet my group in the main dining room for lunch at 1.30pm once they’re back from kindergarten. After a lunch Jamie Oliver would approve of it’s a matter of taking them from one activity to the next. This week the whole village is getting ready to celebrate the annual bar and bat mitzvahs of the girls and boys reaching 12 and 13 respectively over the last year – and so my group have rehearsals to practice for the song they will be performing next week. Photos definitely to follow.
Everything here is meticulously organised. We pick up the children’s clean clothes, towels and bedding from the laundry each afternoon. We also pick up the food for dinner, which we make for them in their “house” and which we eat together once we have bathed them and got them almost ready for bed. The last thing to do is say the shema with them before they go to sleep at eight.
There is no doubt that the work is immensely rewarding – the children love having someone watch them as they play, holding their hands as they come home and giving them encouragement to do things on their own for the first time.
At the end of each day I am totally exhausted! Not only is the work physically and emotionally draining, but I am also working really hard on my Hebrew, which has no choice but to improve in a place where most people don’t speak English. (A special thanks to Anthony and Sandra at this point for the dictionary.) I am spending my free time in mornings and after 8pm reading (also thanks to Calev - the book is excellent) and helping the older girls practice their English.
I will be here this Shabbat and will be working right through until next Friday. But with Daniel’s eighth birthday today and the bar and bat mitzvah celebrations next week there should be lots of fun things happening between now and then.
The first prime minister of Israel David Ben Gurion famously said he would know the day that the Zionist dream had been realised when a Jewish prostitute was arrested by Jewish policeman. And in some ways, Neve Michael is testament to that dream: Jewish children in need being helped by Jewish social workers.
It is hard to accept that there are so many children who need to be here because of situations of domestic violence, neglect or narcotics abuse in homes across Israel, but I think that the secret to Neve Michael’s success is that it really is like a big family. On my first night when I was feeling a little bit like a fish out of water, some of the girls came to my room and brought me a welcome card and a teddy bear. I am not sure even that my own brother would have done that!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Tsipur
Everyone in Israel has one. A tsipur - a story. Since arriving I have met so many people with stories to tell. Each one more fascinating and extraordinary than the next: about why they decided to come and how they got here; about life in the army when your 21 and are looking after 1,000 soldiers in Nablus; about a mother, father and one of their sons converting to orthodox Judaism and having three other children who are still Hindu and living in California; about a writing a book about surviving the Holocaust and having it translated into German by the grandson of the SS soldier who destroyed your village...
My story in Israel starts here.
I arrived and somewhere in the skies between Italy and Greece, at approximately 30,000 feet, my nerves and anxiety disappeared. I landed at Ben Gurion airport excited about what lay ahead and relieved that all my luggage (shoes) arrived with me.
Thursday night was the start of Shavuot, the Jewish festival celebrating receiving the Torah, which meant that Thursday during the day was erev chag - the day before a festival. Erev Chag is really the start of the holiday in Israel: schools are off and there is a tangible buzz on the streets of preparation and anticipation.
Traditionally you are meant to study all night during the festival of Shavuot, and this year given I was in Jerusalem (ir hakodesh - Adam S that is for your benefit only), I indulged. This is supposed to make up for the fact that the Israelites overslept on the morning they were given the Torah. At about 4.00am, I joined what seemed like the rest of Jerusalem, on an amazing journey through the streets to the Old City. At every street corner more and more people joined this human millipede on a mission to the Kotel (Western Wall).
The sight when we arrived was mind-blowing and the only thing I can compare it to is a Jewish hajj. There must have been about 15-20,000 people there, waiting for the sun to rise in order to be able to say their morning prayers. As we waited, I tried to absorb as much of the part social/part fashion show/part spiritual experience as I could. But anyone who thought they might be able to take advantage of sponsorship opportunities when the Moshiach arrives, has missed the boat. Chabad has got it covered and this was clearly their dry run as they handed out goody bags filled with food and drink as everyone left!
As most Jewish festivals require you to go from meal to meal, regardless of whether you are hungry or not, or whether for that matter it is actually a scheduled mealtime at all, I have been eating pretty much constantly since I arrived. I have also been bumping into old friends all over town. (For those of you interested: I saw Ben Bradley at shul, had lunch with Karen Lasky at Anton Goodman's mum's house, saw Ariella and Debra Kalms at the kotel and bumped into Lee Petar on Emek Refaim. Oh, and Lindsey Henry's fiance's sister was staying with me at my cousins over shabbat. Very random.)
In Jerusalem, everyone has been so friendly and with so many English speakers around I have felt very at home. Israeli's call this a bu'ah (a bubble). When I leave tomorrow for the north, I think things will be very different. (No more leisurely breakfasts in this lovely coffee shop with free wireless internet, for example!). But since, there is no word for 'mind your own business' in Hebrew (according to Linda Grant in her brilliant book about life in Israel) , I fully expect to hear lots more stories and for hopefully my own story to take an interesting turn...
My story in Israel starts here.
I arrived and somewhere in the skies between Italy and Greece, at approximately 30,000 feet, my nerves and anxiety disappeared. I landed at Ben Gurion airport excited about what lay ahead and relieved that all my luggage (shoes) arrived with me.
Thursday night was the start of Shavuot, the Jewish festival celebrating receiving the Torah, which meant that Thursday during the day was erev chag - the day before a festival. Erev Chag is really the start of the holiday in Israel: schools are off and there is a tangible buzz on the streets of preparation and anticipation.
Traditionally you are meant to study all night during the festival of Shavuot, and this year given I was in Jerusalem (ir hakodesh - Adam S that is for your benefit only), I indulged. This is supposed to make up for the fact that the Israelites overslept on the morning they were given the Torah. At about 4.00am, I joined what seemed like the rest of Jerusalem, on an amazing journey through the streets to the Old City. At every street corner more and more people joined this human millipede on a mission to the Kotel (Western Wall).
The sight when we arrived was mind-blowing and the only thing I can compare it to is a Jewish hajj. There must have been about 15-20,000 people there, waiting for the sun to rise in order to be able to say their morning prayers. As we waited, I tried to absorb as much of the part social/part fashion show/part spiritual experience as I could. But anyone who thought they might be able to take advantage of sponsorship opportunities when the Moshiach arrives, has missed the boat. Chabad has got it covered and this was clearly their dry run as they handed out goody bags filled with food and drink as everyone left!
As most Jewish festivals require you to go from meal to meal, regardless of whether you are hungry or not, or whether for that matter it is actually a scheduled mealtime at all, I have been eating pretty much constantly since I arrived. I have also been bumping into old friends all over town. (For those of you interested: I saw Ben Bradley at shul, had lunch with Karen Lasky at Anton Goodman's mum's house, saw Ariella and Debra Kalms at the kotel and bumped into Lee Petar on Emek Refaim. Oh, and Lindsey Henry's fiance's sister was staying with me at my cousins over shabbat. Very random.)
In Jerusalem, everyone has been so friendly and with so many English speakers around I have felt very at home. Israeli's call this a bu'ah (a bubble). When I leave tomorrow for the north, I think things will be very different. (No more leisurely breakfasts in this lovely coffee shop with free wireless internet, for example!). But since, there is no word for 'mind your own business' in Hebrew (according to Linda Grant in her brilliant book about life in Israel) , I fully expect to hear lots more stories and for hopefully my own story to take an interesting turn...
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Not left London yet...
So this is what it's like writing a blog...like starting the first page of a diary that's intended for everyone to read.
The final preparations have begun and it's pretty bittersweet to be honest. In some ways, the last eight months seem like a bad dream and I feel that I might wake up at any point to realise it hasn't really happened. (Benjamin would have called this "a river in Egypt" - denial.) In other ways, I'm in a very different place - like it's a different life altogether.
But I am trying to stay focused on the excitement and adventure of the next few months. My plans for my Israel trip are mostly sorted - and like a true Brit, the only thing I am worried about (okay I'm Jewish too, so it's not quite the only thing) is that it's going to be too hot. According to the BBC, it's 29-31 degrees in Tel Aviv over the next five days. Although if you believe the recent report, they're pro-Israel, so maybe I shouldn't be so worried after all...
With shekels bought (eight to the pound, if you are interested) and ipod charged, I just need to pack. My backpack seems to be shrinking everytime I look at it though, so I may need to rethink my (definition of a) "capsule" wardrobe between now and Wednesday. But as any girl will sympathise, it's the shoes that are weighing me down - literally. I have my trainers, hiking boots, filp-flops x2, pretty flat sandals x3 , wedges x2 and yes, I do need five pairs of sparkly sandals to go with all my outfits for two months. I usually take that many when I go away for two weeks, so I think I'm doing pretty well actually.
The next time you'll hear from me, I should be in the holyland, well heeled and taking my anti-histamine against against the sun...until then.
The final preparations have begun and it's pretty bittersweet to be honest. In some ways, the last eight months seem like a bad dream and I feel that I might wake up at any point to realise it hasn't really happened. (Benjamin would have called this "a river in Egypt" - denial.) In other ways, I'm in a very different place - like it's a different life altogether.
But I am trying to stay focused on the excitement and adventure of the next few months. My plans for my Israel trip are mostly sorted - and like a true Brit, the only thing I am worried about (okay I'm Jewish too, so it's not quite the only thing) is that it's going to be too hot. According to the BBC, it's 29-31 degrees in Tel Aviv over the next five days. Although if you believe the recent report, they're pro-Israel, so maybe I shouldn't be so worried after all...
With shekels bought (eight to the pound, if you are interested) and ipod charged, I just need to pack. My backpack seems to be shrinking everytime I look at it though, so I may need to rethink my (definition of a) "capsule" wardrobe between now and Wednesday. But as any girl will sympathise, it's the shoes that are weighing me down - literally. I have my trainers, hiking boots, filp-flops x2, pretty flat sandals x3 , wedges x2 and yes, I do need five pairs of sparkly sandals to go with all my outfits for two months. I usually take that many when I go away for two weeks, so I think I'm doing pretty well actually.
The next time you'll hear from me, I should be in the holyland, well heeled and taking my anti-histamine against against the sun...until then.