Hello from America!

Hello readers! Believe it or not, I am back on the “other side” of the Atlantic (for now, anyway) while I am on break. I know I haven’t written in a while (sorry about that) but not for lack of time, but because there is simply less to report. One of the hardest adjustments I’ve had to make since moving to Arad is learning how to have downtime. It was never something I had (or knew how to enjoy/appreciate) in high school; it was always school, studying, extracurricular commitments, hours of dance, more studying, some sleep, and repeat. Now, however, I find myself with odd amounts of time to myself. Unfortunately, it’s never a consecutive chunk of time to, for example, make it worthwhile to travel to Be’er Sheba (it’s about 45 minutes on a bus from Arad) or go anywhere except the Laundromat (I try to go at least once every 10 days or so. It’s a good activity), Mega Bool (again, this is not an everyday thing… unfortunately) or visit other apartments (they’re all ten to fifteen minute walks from each other. This gets old fast). That being said, we’ve learned to be creative. Here’s a list of fun(ish) things to do in Arad if you need a quick activity to occupy two hours or less:

1. Go for a walk in the “center” of town. Sit near the construction site (yes, there’s only one) near Bank Hapoalim, around the corner from the bus station (three benches) and the Laundromat, and watch the “mayors” convene for what can only be important deliberations (I try to overhear, but most conversations are in Arabic. I like to sit and watch groups of Bedouin men stroll through the center, donning their head coverings and floor-length garb even on the warmest days. They clearly run the place). While you’re there, stop by and have a falafel or kebab sandwich in the restaurant (it’s a hole in the wall. That’s what makes it delicious) near the change store and across from the (well, once of several) spice market. One of my friends volunteers there; she chops vegetables for Israeli salad and potatoes to make fries. I try to visit her (and have lunch, naturally) every once in a while.

2. Go to Mega Bool (they will pick you up if you call in advance) and try to find the best deals on meat, chicken and fresh vegetables (all Bool deals are done by the kilo. Know what you’re buying and exactly how much of it. You will be shocked).

3. With your new purchases, make dinner for friends. We try to have themed nights (Italian night, Mexican… takeout…) Make sure your guests bring something, too! Need ideas? Try quesadillas and guacamole:

Elana’s Quick Quesdadillas:
Ingredients:
Flour tortillas (two per quesadilla, one for the “bottom” and one for the “top”)
2-3 large onions, chopped
2 red peppers, chopped
Jalapenos (you decide how hot you want your dinner to be)
Shredded cheddar cheese
Oil
Salt, pepper to taste
Two cloves garlic, minced

Procedure: In a frying pan, heat oil over medium heat. Saute onions until translucent, add garlic. Salt and pepper to taste. Remove onions and place to the side. Saute red peppers; once they become soft, add peppers to onions and set aside. Re-oil the pan and place a tortilla on the bottom. Add cheese (enough to cover the tortilla), pepper/onion mixture, and jalapenos (at your discretion). Place another tortilla on top. As the cheese begins to melt, flip the quesadilla so it cooks evenly on both sides. Once both top and bottom are golden-brown and the cheese has melted, remove from the pan. To keep the first quesadillas warm while you cook the others, turn the oven on low heat and keep the quesadillas in the oven to stay hot. Once all are finished, cut into triangles (like a pizza) and serve hot, with salsa and guacamole for dipping.

Yummy Guacamole:
Ingredients:
6 avocadoes, soft and ripe
1 red onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
Juice of a lime
1 tomato, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Tabasco (optional, but delicious)

Procedure: Halve the avocadoes, remove pits (reserve at least 2 pits, throw the rest away) and remove skin. In a large mixing bowl, mash avocado and add chopped onion and garlic. Mix well, but avoid making the avocado too mushy; keep it slightly “chunky” for texture (you don’t want baby food). Add the juice of a lime, salt and pepper. If you wish, add a little Tabasco for an extra “kick.” Place chopped tomatoes on top. To keep the avocado from oxidizing quickly in the refrigerator (unless you’re eating it immediately) place the two reserved avocado pits in the guacamole and refrigerate until you’re ready to eat!


4. Make hot chocolate from scratch. This is a good activity for several reasons: a) it’s something to do that takes longer than simply spooning mix into a mug and boiling water, b) it tastes delicious and c) Tim Tam Slams will follow (see previous post).

Sandstorm-Proof Hot Chocolate:
Ingredients:
Milk (3-4 cups, based on how many you’re serving)
Boiling water
Chocolate ice cream (gelato works well, too)
2 teaspoons Instant coffee
1 teaspoon Cinnamon
2 tablespoons Sugar
Marshmallows (if you’re feeling adventurous/childish/in need of more sugar)

Procedure: In a large pot, warm milk over medium heat. When milk begins to bubble slightly, stir in chocolate ice cream (2-3 cups, based on how chocolatey you want your hot chocolate. Or just use the entire tub if it’s one of those days). When ice cream has melted, add coffee mix, cinnamon and sugar. Add 2-3 cups boiling water to the mixture. Serve in mugs and top with marshmallows. Also, have Tim Tams at the ready. Enjoy!

5. Insulate your apartment to protect against 30 mile/hour winds, sand and dirt that will inevitably end up in your bedroom. What’s best for this? Duct tape and a bath towel. Yes, we did it, and yes, it worked. Pictures to follow.

6. If you need a weekday activity between the hours of 9am and 3pm, come to the gan and help us sand/spackle. We need all the help we can get (although the walls are looking SO much better!) Or, you can play with the kids. They’re adorable!

7. Go to the mall and walk around for a little while. Once you’re there, go to Super Pharm and purchase a hot water bottle. Before going to bed, boil some water and pour it into the hot water bottle. Place it at the end of your bed, near your feet. Enjoy the best night of sleep ever.

8. Go to Muza. The food is great, the bar is fun, and the waiters/waitresses are all very nice and speak excellent English. If you’re a soccer fan (after living in Israel for a certain amount of time, you become one) then this is an especially cool place to watch a game in the company of other fanatics.

9. Have game night! Playing cards, Rummikub, and backgammon (called Shesh Besh in Israel) can be very amusing for quite some time. Serve snacks and you become a very popular apartment.

10. Blog, send email, download new music and movies you haven’t had a chance to see, and otherwise make good use of wireless Internet. It is truly a blessing.


Arad isn’t necessarily boring; it’s just not Tel Aviv, which has been a major change. I’m taking it as an opportunity to make my own fun, to spend lots of time at the gan, and to learn a new side of Israel I wouldn’t otherwise see. And the craziest part? I have less than a month to live there once vacation is over, because before I can say “Mega Bool,” I’ll be boarding a plane headed to Africa. Oy va voy!

Happy New Year (from America!)
Elana

The Tim Tam Slam

Hello readers! I hope you enjoyed my pictures from the gan (there are more on Facebook!). It's about 2pm here in Arad and after a long morning hike (essentially right behind my apartment) and a leisurely lunch, I'm getting ready to leave for the weekend to Tel Aviv, but before I do, I just wanted to share some of yesterday's events with you:

For the first time in a long while, I beat my alarm at its own game. It was 7:30 and I had another half hour to sleep before I needed to get ready for volunteering, but I was so excited to arrive at the gan that I tossed and turned aimlessly. Finally, by 8:45 I was out of my apartment, on to Ben Yair street and headed through the markets, past the coin laundromat and into the set of buildings next to the playground where the gan is situated. Upon opening the door, I was greeted by a dozen smiling faces and running noses, all of which came at me at once, begging, arms outstretched to be picked up or put on my back. After putting my jacket on top of the refrigerator (only the children's coats and shoes go inside the fridge; there isn't enough room for our things) I began endless games of "airplane" and "ring around the rosy." Meanwhile, two of the other volunteers were outside, beginning our spackling project on the walls of the gan's backyard. Eventually, we switched jobs (Tuta was not happy about this. She continued screaming "Lana" from the gan's single window, looking for me as I sanded and spackled away outside. Eventually, she must have gotten tired because she realized I was no longer in the room and couldn't come back inside for a while, so she relented). I must say, spackling entire walls is not easy. Especially when the guy at Home Center tells you that one 15 kilogram bucket of spackle is enough; he clearly had no idea the kind of walls we were repairing. So, a few of us returned to Home Center for two more buckets and sandpaper (he was shocked to see us. I was not happy to see him), and by the end of the day, had spackled over every crack and uneven corner on all three walls. Currently, they are drying and we will start sanding and painting next week!

After finishing work at the gan, I decided to make dinner for my roommates and some friends. A go to choice? Chicken cacciatore. It's relatively healthy, everyone eats it, and it can be made in a single aluminum tin which I later throw away for an easy cleanup. Dinner was, if I may say, a success (we were so full it was painful) and later, for dessert, I made hot chocolate and one of my friends taught me the "Tim Tam Slam." Now, let me explain. Tim Tams (no, not Tam Tams. Those are gross Passover matzah crackers) are a type of chocolate cookie, indigenous to Israel, made with three layers of chocolate and a chocolate coating. To achieve a Tim Tam Slam, here is what must happen:

1. Obtain Tim Tam cookies. You will need at least a box of them.
2. Make hot chocolate or another hot beverage of your choice (but really, while you're going a little chocolate insane, hot chocolate is the most logical decision)
3. Bite one corner of the Tim Tam, and then bite the corner diagonally opposite it.
4. Submerge the cookie in your beverage enough to be able to put the top of the cookie in your mouth while it is still in your drink.
5. As if the cookie were a straw, "drink" your hot chocolate (or tea or coffee... I won't judge) through the cookie until you feel it start to soften in your mouth. At this point, put the entire cookie (which is now hot, so be careful) in your mouth, chew, and find a napkin nearby. You'll need it. Tim Tam Slams are messy snacks.
6. Repeat until you have a) gone into sugar shock, b) feel sick, or c) run out of Tim Tam Slams (but the last is really never a problem... the markets stay open pretty late)

While making a complete fool of myself attempting (and achieving) Tim Tam Slams, I realized that I would never be partaking in such craziness or find myself in such circumstances anywhere else. I would never be in an apartment in the middle of the Israeli desert with five of my friends, who are from all across the United States, drinking homemade hot chocolate and turning cookies into mush. I would never find myself so exhausted from volunteering at a Sudanese preschool (where else would I even find one to work in?) that all I want to do is sleep, even though I decide to make dinner and stay up much too late playing Rummikub. Although I sometimes (yes, even after all these months) find myself waking up and thinking, "Is this real? Am I actually living here?" I'm still amazed by simply being in such an incredible country with wonderful friends and new adventures. I think that all the craziness is what keeps it interesting, what keeps me guessing, and what continues to make me think, "Wow. I'm actually doing this. And I wouldn't give it up for anything."

I hope all is well - more next week! Shabbat Shalom (almost) from Israel!

Love always,
Elana

Pictures from the Gan

Ilyssa with the kiddies


Tuta having some juice on my lap. She calls me "Lana." Close enough.


From left: Me, Brinley and Ilyssa, the master spacklers.


We love the gan!

La!

Today was my first day of volunteering in Arad. I work at the pre-school ("gan" in Hebrew) for children of Sudanese refugees. Arad has a growing Sudanese population; the Israeli government has offered refuge for people fleeing the Sudan, particularly the Darfur region, due to the ongoing genocide. The gan itself is essentially a single room: four bare walls, one small couch, two cots and a rug on a linoleum floor. There is a simple kitchen: microwave, sink, and, to my surprise, two refrigerators. The refrigerators shocked me most; the children and the woman who runs the daycare are not Jewish, so having two fridges (one for meat and one for dairy) seemed strange. In my first ten minutes there, I discovered that the second refrigerator functions as shelves for shoes (the kids run around in socks or barefoot), jackets and a very small collection of coloring supplies. Watching them trot to the second refrigerator and stuff their fraying coats and tiny Crocs inside was heartbreaking.

Children in the gan range in age from 6 months to about 5 or 6 years old. They all speak Arabic (as does Aboba, the woman who runs the gan, which is also her home) and two or three of them speak elementary Hebrew (about as much as I do). They love to color, but then crayons end up in their mouths or up their noses, and the few dolls and toys they do have can become the sources of arguments, hitting, crying and overall frustration. Luckily, there is a television in the gan; from 9am to 3pm, endless cartoons in Arabic entertain children who aren't otherwise occupied (they would rather make a jungle gym out of me or the other volunteers, run around in the park, or try to bite my painted fingernails which apparently look like candy). I must say, watching Spongebob in Arabic is an experience; Squidward's accent is about as convincing as mine.

Since most of the children only speak and understand Arabic, I decided to learn some basic words ("Nam" means Yes, "La" is No, "Salaam," like "Shalom" in Hebrew, means Hello). I really do wish I had a shekel for every time I had to say "La" today. I guess pulling my hair and untying (and then trying to eat) my shoelaces are appealing activities. My response? La!

Despite the craziness and being completely physically and emotionally draining, the children are absolutely adorable. They only want to be picked up, held and loved. Most are content to sit in my lap simply because it means they aren't sitting by themselves. Their favorite part of the day? Yogurt! Aboba hands each of us a yogurt or pudding container and a spoon, and the children come running at us, mouths open. The smart ones make rounds: they get a spoonful from one of us (everything in the gan is communal: yogurt, utensils, juice cups, etc) and then come running to someone else. This continues until the containers have been wiped clean of any and all remaining yogurt. Then, of course, cleaning up twelve faces full of sticky pudding (none of whom actually want to be cleaned) is a challenge. It's in these moments that I'm glad the gan is essentially confined to a single room; they can't go very far.

In addition to playing with the children all day, we are also responsible for spackling and repainting the backyard of the gan. It's three walls, which currently sport chipping paint and cracked concrete, a mess of dirty lawn furniture and a clothesline for Aboba's laundry. After purchasing more spackle and building materials (at Home Center, of course!) we are ready to begin our gan improvement project. I love the smell of primer in the morning (especially when it's cold enough outside for a winter coat, gloves and a scarf... in ISRAEL!)

Tomorrow is another long, tiring day with the kiddies! That's all for now - more soon!

Love and La!
Elana

Hello from Arad!

Hello everyone and welcome to part two of my adventure! Sorry it's taken me so long to update all of you, but this is why:

Last Monday, we spent an overnight in a Bedouin guest tent near Arad. While the hospitality was fun (great food and lots of games of Banana Grams) there are two words to best describe my Bedouin tent experience: dust and camels. The first was responsible for me looking like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, the second was good for two things: me smelling like, well, a camel, and later, me having to wipe myself down with Purell because the camel behind the one I was riding decided I looked like a Kleenex and sneezed all over my leg. As they say in Israel, labriut gamal (labriut is like "bless you" and gamal is a camel). I must say, riding a camel is significantly more difficult and less glamorous than it looks (if it even looks that fabulous in the first place...) Despite being VERY high above the ground, you feel every lump, bump and rock on the trail (I can't say road... it wasn't a road) and then the camel generally decides to spit, sneeze or display other bodily functions while you are on board. Ew. Furthermore, their teeth are abominable. A dental hygienist's right arm would probably fall off after doing one camel's lowers. Yes, they are that awful.

After a morning of camel riding, we hiked an "easy" trail (the Israeli idea of easy hiking and my idea of easy hiking are clearly two very different ideas) in the Negev. From the top, it's easy to see a long stretch of paved, black road roaming through endless mountains made entirely of reddish brown rock and sand. It could be something out of Aladdin if it weren't for something so modern (the tar road and the caravan of tour buses riding along it) right in the middle of an otherwise empty desert. I found myself thinking, "There is no way I can live here." As it turns out, I was wrong... keep reading!

Then came the worst part: saying goodbye to our tsofim and my friends headed to kibbutz. People who choose to spend our semester in Arad on kibbutz don't leave the kibbutz and don't see the rest of us until we move to Jerusalem in the spring. Being without them has been strange, to say the least, but I'm sure they are loving their new surroundings.

Speaking of new surroundings... I am now a resident of Arad! On Wednesday, we were given time to go apartment shopping. After buying some home essentials (yes, a trip to Home Center - I'm so excited there's one in Arad! - was necessary) I ventured, with one of my new roommates, to the Mega Bool. Mega Bool is where God would shop for groceries. Here's what's incredible about the Megal Bool: it's not actually in Arad, so the store sends a shuttle to your apartment to pick you up (free of charge), waits for you to shop, and then takes you and your purchases back to your front door (and, in our case, they send up a Mega Bool guy to the 7th floor with four crates of groceries). That, and the store itself is gorgeous; it completely puts the Douche to shame. I will not miss having my legs rammed into by dual shopping carts a la Super Douche. I am now beginning to remember that food shopping should be a pain-free experience (not that Shop Rite in New Jersey is such an example of civilized grocery shopping).

Another remarkable thing about the Mega, and Arad in general: everyone here is so NICE. Coming from Bat Yam, where I had to race taxi cabs to the crosswalk, hoping the driver would let me get across the street in one piece (and then would scream at me while I had the green light to walk), this is a very bizarre yet welcome change. In Bat Yam and Tel Aviv, "nice" is simply not done. Angry, frustrated, rushed and inconsiderate? Everyone seems very well-versed in those. But here, things are different. My neighbors don't scream at me, they talk and joke and ask us where we're from and why we're here (and when we tell them, they don't proceed to say, "Why? This place is awful!") One of my favorite members of my new neighborhood? A guy who looks about 90 and wears a sailing hat everywhere. I've been here for nearly a week and I have yet to see him without it. I'd love to know where he keeps his boat (or where he thinks his boat is); the closest body of water to Arad is the Dead Sea and I highly doubt that its sailing conditions are any good. Another one of my neighbors, Yaakov, heard my friends and me speaking English while walking home. He stopped us and asked where we are from, and when he heard New Jersey, he told us that he is originally from Elizabeth but he moved to Arad 23 years ago (he's about 80). He then proceeded to ask us who we know who lives in Elizabeth and he tried to figure out if the names were familiar. In Bat Yam, I can almost promise you this would never happen.

It's certainly been a dramatic change (it feels like I left New York City for Montana), exchanging the city for the desert and kitties for camels, but it will start to feel like home eventually. I've been making lots of latkes, hiking Shvil Yisrael (the Israel Trail - it goes through the all of Israel and takes almost 2 years to hike in its entirety. A portion of the trail is right behind my apartment, in the hills of the desert) and meeting (and adjusting to) members of my new community. It hasn't been easy, but I know it will be fun, and by the time I've embraced Arad as my home, just as in Bat Yam, it will be time to leave again. Funny how that works, isn't it?

Happy Hanukkah from the Land of Miracles!

Lots of love,
Elana

Goodbye, BY

Once again, I find myself apologizing for lack of blog posts. Well, I've been a LITTLE busy. Here's what's been up:

Last week was my birthday (yay for 19!) and my parents came to visit me. We hut up the Douche (yes, they both made it out in one piece, but I had to teach them the "Slicha and push" technique in order to spend less than two hours in the produce section) and of course, Home Center, where all home goods and needs are met, just in no particular order or organization. They came with me to volunteering to meet my kids, and since it was my final day at Ben Gurion school, my students made me goodbye cards and wouldn't let me get out the door. They don't understand why I need to move (quite honestly, neither do I, other than it's what I'm scheduled to do) and only want to know if I'm coming back. I told them I would do my best to visit.

After visiting the school where I work, the college where I take classes and showing them around Tel Aviv and the most exciting parts of Bat Yam, my parents helped me prepare a Thanksgiving meal for me and my friends! My dad chopped vegetables and my mom sauteed (she also cleaned the place from floor to ceiling). A trip to the Douche returned 7 kilos of "hodo" (turkey) but not in the form of whole, bones and skin bird; turkey breast only. Cooking it became interesting, but not nearly as much of an adventure as the pumpkin pie. My mom and I found what we thought resembled pie crust in the frozen pastry section of the supermarket, lined a pie tin and made a pumpkin pie. After sticking it in the oven for about 20 minutes, we checked on it, and my mom, with a petrified look on her face, said, "Elana, I don't really think we got pie crust. This is, um, puffing. Pies shouldn't puff." Indeed, we hadn't bought pie crust. We got puff pastry dough. Ooops. Nonetheless, the pie was saved, and after some time playing with the oven temperature and moving the pie around, it didn't end up being a complete disaster.

On Friday night, our tsofim threw us prom, Israeli style, in Tel Aviv. Beforehand, I invited a bunch of my friends for "pre-prom" leftovers (those 7 kilos of turkey might have been overkill). Prom was, to say the least, eventful. An open bar, thirsty American teenagers who still haven't learned their limits and a reason to celebrate combined in what can only be described as mayhem. Naturally, around 3am, it seemed like a good idea to go to Benedict's for breakfast. Yum.

So now, it's my last full day in Bat Yam. I'm sitting among suitcases and bare walls, an empty refrigerator and cleaned-out closets. The apartment is nearly restored to the state in which we found it. A little while ago I returned from picking up my laundry one last time. Generally, I'd try to flag down a cab to take me from the one side of the city where the laundry place is back to my apartment. However, today, I decided to walk, laundry bag in hand. As I trekked back through the city to Katzenelson street, I found myself noticing all the little things that make Bat Yam special to me. The kitty count reaching 20 before turning a corner (that is, 20 cats on one block. No repeats) Women walking to the Douche with their wheeling grocery bags (really, it's plaid and otherwise unfortunately patterned luggage with a handle and oversized wheels for easy navigation to and from the market). Children running through the street, screaming, dodging cars that are exceeding speed limits by about 50 kilometers. I also noticed that I barely broke a sweat, unlike three months ago when simply breathing made me start schvitzing like a farm animal. I walked past the mall, home of the Douche and schwarma stand, up Yoseftal street that runs all the way to the beach, where we spent our first weekends when it wasn't too cold to sit out in a bathing suit. I listened to the bickering and shouting around me, shocked at how much I understood. I saw the cat lady feeding stale bread to the neighborhood kitties behind the library. And then, as I reached my front steps, I glanced at the Super Katzenelson, where I've had to run for emergency milk, extra cheese, a piece of fruit, or an ice cream pick-me-up more times than I can count. It was then that my eyes started to well and I realized that I really am leaving this place. This place that has become my home. I know that Arad will be new and challenging, but I don't feel quite ready to pack up and go. Just as I've learned the bus system, the short cuts and all the ins and outs of Bat Yam and Tel Aviv, I'm reloading my suitcases (they're heavier now) and heading south. There is no way for me to know exactly what awaits, but I know there won't be a Douche, a Super Katzenelson, a finicky oven or the students of Ben Gurion School in Arad. I may find their equivalents, but I know it won't be the same. It feels like only yesterday I was moving in, flooding the apartment due to lack of shower plumbing, and getting lost everywhere I went. Time has flown by. I know that these three months are unique and special in and of themselves, and I know I will never forget the people, the places and the crazy memories I've made here.

Thank you, Bat Yam, for teaching me so much about Israel and about myself. I know I'll be back. And next time, I'm bringing a meat thermometer. You can't find those here.

More from Arad in a few days,

Elana

Gin, Tea and Hummus

Hello everyone! I hope this post finds you well. There isn't much groundbreaking news to report from Bat Yam, but here is an anecdote from yesterday's adventures that I particularly like:

After classes yesterday, a large group of us traveled to Old Yafo (Jaffa) to visit the Etzel museum, which is dedicated to the history of the Irgun, one of Israel's first underground fighting brigades before the birth of the state and the IDF. Our guide, Yosef, was a member of the Irgun. Interestingly, Yosef (he introduced himself as Yoske) was first a member of the British army during British Mandate, and joined the Irgun simultaneously (so really, he was working for both sides at the same time). He was not even 15 years old when he first began serving (he told us he forged the date on his birth certificate so he could enlist at a young age). When he had been with the Irgun for some time, he was given a special mission by Menachim Begin (a leader of the Irgun): on Christmas, they were going to steal all guns and ammunition from a nearby British army base. Since Yoske had been a member of the British army, his English accent was perfect and he already had an official British army uniform. So, on Christmas Eve, Yoske and several other Irgun members soaked themselves in gin, to give the British officers the impression they were drunk, and offered drinks to their British "comrades" as well. Yoske told us a local doctor had told him it would take about half an hour (assuming the British drank all the gin they were given) for them to become tired and fall asleep. During this time, the Irgun fighters who were drinking with the British officers weren't actually downing gin: they were drinking tea. Same color, no adverse affects, no drunkenness. Genius plan.

Two and a half hours later (so much for what that doctor had said), the British had all gone home for Christmas or were asleep from the alcohol. Yoske and his Irgun buddies, running out of tea, loaded trucks with ammunition and drove off the base. However, during their escape, shots were fired and Irgun members were wounded. Yoske made it out alive, and with a whole new artillery.

In June 1948, Yoske was aboard the Altalena, an Irgun ship loaded with fighters and military supplies. David Ben Gurion ordered Menachim Begin, Irgun leader and passenger on the ship heading for Tel Aviv, to hand over the weapons and military supplies on the Altalena to the Israeli government; now that Israel had become a state, it should have only one army. When Begin refused, Ben Gurion ordered the Altalena to be shelled. This is the only time in Israel's (rather short) history that its leader ordered a direct attack on his own people. Several Irgun members were killed. Yoske and his wife (both were aboard the ship) found a lifeboat and saved five other people. One of the people on the lifeboat was a man from Cuba, who, once reaching the shore, went to a local hotel and refused to return to Israel (understandably, he was very upset by the Israeli government's actions). In 2007, he finally came back to Israel, where his daughter now lives, to find Yoske and properly thank him for saving his life. To learn more about the Altalena affair, please visit: http://www.etzel.org.il/english/ac20.htm

Once our museum tour was over, a group of my friends and I decided to venture into Yafo for dinner. One of the most famous and (delicious) restaurants in Yafo is Aboulafiya, which features classic Middle Eastern dishes (best kababs in a fifty mile radius). Everything you order comes with a selection of fifteen salads (cauliflower, corn, tomato, tahina... each one is better than the next) and laffa bread for dipping. Not to mention all the hummus you could ever want or need (it's all very overwhelming, let me tell you). We ate way too much and rolled ourselves onto a bus home.

I know this is somewhat short, but I wanted to share some recent highlights with you.

Thanks for reading - I need to go check on my brisket now.

Love,
Elana

We made history... and then there was Halloween...

This past Thursday, all of Year Course participated in the first ever Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Israel! Held in Jerusalem, this historic event drew thousands of participants. After receiving official t-shirts, I was handed a Hadassah flag to carry throughout the race - the flag was about as big as I am. Why they picked one of the shortest members of Year Course to carry the Hadassah flag is beyond me, but I was excited nevertheless (I tried not to hit too many people in my path, but eventually people realized they should avoid the short girl with the huge flag). At the start line, Senator Joe Lieberman spoke, and jokingly commented that he loves Hadassah so much, he married it (his wife is Hadassah Lieberman. Hahaha) and then, Nancy G. Brinker followed him. Nancy Brinker is the founder of Susan G. Komen for the Cure; nearly 30 years ago, she promised her dying sister, Susan G. Komen, to bring an end to breast cancer. Today, the Susan G. Komen Foundation is the largest non-profit organization donating to breast cancer research (over $1.5 billion to date!) It was an incredible event, and I felt so fortunate to be a part of it.

As I mentioned in a previous post, we simply could not let Halloween pass us by, despite the fact that we're in Israel and no one here knows or understands what Halloween is, let alone celebrates it. However, as Americans in Israel, we took it upon ourselves to dress up and take Tel Aviv by storm. Well, my roommate and I dressed up as Tom Cruise from Risky Business; big white Oxford shirts, guy's briefs, high socks and, of course, sunglasses. After several hours at a downtown club (the local club-goers thought we were quite the sight. Over 200 American teenagers dressed up ridiculously in public. It was like a zoo) we decided it would be a good idea to go to the local 24-hour breakfast place (yes, they serve bacon). So, we sat, in costume, in a restaurant, and ordered omelettes, pancakes, french toast and the like. Don't worry, we tipped our waiter really, really well.

The following day was Yitzhak Rabin's memorial in Rabin Square (Kikar Rabin), where he was assassinated fifteen years ago. The service drew an unbelievable crowd; it was impossible to move. Members of all political parties, speakers including Shimon Peres and Rabin's grandson, and musical performances made the night very special. While standing in the audience, I saw a group of security guards coming through, the crowd parting for them (the sunglasses at night, black suits and earpieces gave them away). Who was in between the cloud of broad- shouldered intimidators? Isaac "Bougie" Herzog, Minister of Social Affairs. He stopped for a minute, introduced himself and shook my hand! I don't think his security details were too fond of the pause in proceeding through the crowd, but it was nice to meet him (for 12 seconds).

It's been yet another long several days of school and volunteering; one of the scariest moments of my week? A woman in the Super Douche had an argument with one of the cashiers and proceeded to raise a full soda bottle over her head and attempt to swing at the cashier and grocery bagger. Luckily, security was called before it escalated (and before any soda bottle to head contact was made). It was one of those "oy vey" scenarios. I paid for my chicken and aluminum foil and got out as fast as possible.

That's all for now - I should start preparing for my Shabbat dinner tomorrow night; I'm cooking!

Shabbat Shalom from Israel, and lots of love,
Elana

VERY IMPORTANT: SOCIAL ACTION RWANDA NEEDS YOUR HELP!

Dear Readers,

As some of you may know, I am spending the month of February in Rwanda with the Social Action Rwanda track of Year Course. I will be living and working in the Agahozo Shalom Youth Village, located outside of the capital city of Kigali. Agahozo Shalom (ASYV) was established after the Rwandan genocide to aid in the country’s overwhelming epidemic of orphaned and homeless children. In 1994, Rwanda underwent one of the most horrific genocides the world has seen. Nearly one million lives were lost, and over 2.8 million children became orphans as a result of the violence; this number is one of the highest orphan rates in the world. A project of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, Agohozo Shalom opened in December 2008 in the Eastern Province of Rwanda; it now provides a safe, nurturing and educational community for up to 500 Rwandan teenagers at a time.

Before I leave for Rwanda, the group of Year Course volunteers with whom I will travel, live and work must raise at least $5,000 for the Village. The money we raise could be put toward a new building project, buying textbooks or the Village’s sustainable agriculture program. Although $5,000 is our goal, I hope to surpass it with your help.

To make a donation and learn more about the village, please visit: http://www.agahozo-shalom.org/donate.html.

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: You must indicate that the donation is in "support of" Young Judaea Year Course Social Action Rwanda (SAR); otherwise, we will not be credited for the donation and it will not be put toward our goal of $5,000. Also, please include YOUR name so we can thank you all for your generous support when our project is done.

Thank you all for your support, and, as always, thanks for reading.

Love,
Elana

You know you're living in Bat Yam when...

Hello readers! It's about 9 PM here in Israel; I've just gotten back from my Business Ethics class, and before I resume Hebrew flashcards and preparations for tomorrow (we're going to Jerusalem for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer walk) I wanted to update all of you (see, I'm trying to be better about this!)

Monday of this week was completely hectic. After turning in my Zionism paper and having a morning of classes, we all boarded buses for Jerusalem. Our first stop was the AACI (Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel) memorial service for fallen members of the IDF and victims of terror who were originally American or Canadian citizens. After this year's ceremony, the memorial wall dedicated by AACI just outside of Jerusalem now lists over 300 names, a staggering number. As Americans living in Israel, this was both depressing and humbling. So many people have moved themselves, their families and their lives to Israel, risking everything, and some have clearly made the ultimate sacrifice.

Once the ceremony was over, we took a trip to Mini Israel, which is, exactly as it's named, a smaller scale version of all major sites, cities and attractions in Israel. Being as tall as the Azrieli Tower (the second tallest building in Israel, tallest in Tel Aviv) was quite cool (in real life, Azrieli is almost 50 stories. I barely clear 5 feet). The main event, however, came after Mini Israel: all of Year Course (about 340 students, plus staff) attended the Masa opening event in Jerusalem, featuring a concert by Idan Raichel. First, let me explain Masa. Masa is an organization which promotes and gives funding to study abroad and exchange programs in Israel for high school and college-age students. Not only does Masa partner with Year Course, but they aid similar programs as well. They hosted the event (about 4,000 people were in attendance) and the featured guest was Idan Raichel, the musical genius behind the Idan Raichel Project. Idan Raichel's music is influenced by the global community; his band members (there are 10) are each from a different part of the world; they perform music in many languages and take musical inspiration from a variety of styles and cultures. His concert was awesome, and so are his dreadlocks. To find out more about Idan Raichel and his music, visit: .

Tuesday was an early morning of volunteering. It's been about a month, and some of my students, despite their efforts, continue to try to teach me profanity in Hebrew, thinking I won't know the difference. Unfortunately for them, I am becoming less of a "stupid American," and I recognize their shenanigans. Two of them (who shall remain nameless) think it's hysterical to teach me a sentence with curse words, tell me it means "You have nice eyes" or "I like your shirt" and then they instruct me to say it to their teacher, knowing full well it has nothing to do with pretty eyes or an outfit choice. I, however, do not fall for their tricks; generally, one of their classmates begins to giggle immediately, which is a tip-off, or someone (usually Bar or Sapir, my buddies) tells me not to repeat whatever the little clowns have "taught" me. Always good for a laugh, though. Crazy kids.

Tuesday afternoon was an adventure to Tel Aviv; we've realized that we have about a month left in Bat Yam, which means a month to visit Tel Aviv whenever we choose, a month to explore, a month to enjoy the city and beaches around us before we move to the desert. Because we cannot completely disregard being American (it's one of those things we just can't shake, unlike our initial jetlag and, after some Ulpan classes, the language barrier) we have decided to celebrate Halloween while in Israel. So, my roommate and I got costumes, had some delicious dinner and, like true pioneers, took a new bus route home (125 instead of 18...). A very successful evening, I must say.

The best part about my day today was the evening class from which I just returned. It's called Jewish Business Ethics and is taught by my Zionism teacher, Benjy. Every week, our topic changes; all are related to issues in business and global economies, and what Jewish law has to say about these modern issues. Tonight, our topic was advertising, its positive affects on consumers and ramifications of "false advertising." Interestingly, the Talmud and Halacha (Jewish law) have very specific prohibitions against misleading people when it comes to making a purchase or a decision. The example is given: A storeowner should never sprinkle expensive, delicious-smelling wine throughout his shop if the wine in the store is not of the same caliber as the wine he uses to lure in customers. His customers then believe that the wine they purchase will smell just as delicious as his shop, but when they open it, realize their wine is nothing like the product that urged them to make their purchase. The lesson here, therefore, is that advertising falsely and similar methods of simply "making a sale" or "doing business" are prohibited by Halacha. According to Jewish law, consumers have recourse if they are not satisfied with their product after buying it based on certain information (i.e. an advertisement). So, where does that leave us as consumers, as businessmen and women, and for me, as a Jewish person? I will tell you one thing: the advertisements on the sides of buses and all over billboards for chocolate in this country are very hard to ignore. They're everywhere. And I can tell you from some experience that they are not misleading (so, ads for chocolate are okay by the Halacha. That figures).

Now that my adventure in Bat Yam is two-thirds over, I have made a list of things that are unique to and great about living here. As I compiled this list, I found myself thinking, "No wonder Bat Yam has such a bad reputation." But in reality, it's been an amazing first two months, and I wouldn't have wanted to spend them any other place:

1. You see more cats than people. If I could somehow calculate the ratio of cats to people in Bat Yam, I think the kitties would win. They are everywhere. In the street. On my front steps. Behind the market. They're smart though; when they see me coming, they steer clear.
2. Your boyfriend thinks pepperspray constitutes a gift. A few weeks ago, my roommate's boyfriend gave her pepperspray after visiting our apartment for dinner. His best friend is my boyfriend, and after hearing that my roommate received pepperspray, he thought I would need some, too. After much convincing, I told him no, pepperspray was not necessary. I never walk alone at night and I know my way around. Like any city, you just need to keep your wits about you. At first, I'll be honest, walking around Bat Yam scared the living daylight out of me, but now, it's become my neighborhood and I feel comfortable going from place to place, pepperspray-free.
3. You can walk to the beach with your eyes closed (since you now know the bus system and the fact that certain lines stop running after certain hours. This only took three weeks to figure out) The beach is a 25 minute walk from my apartment, down one major road, that dead-ends at the ocean. Generally, a bus line runs straight to the beach, but the stops change, and after 9 PM, the route changes completely. Learning this was not as straightforward as it sounds, more like trial and error for a few weeks.
4. You are a Super Douche connoisseur. I have become a Super Douche maniac. I can drive my shopping cart, be on my cell phone and order chicken breast all at once like a champion. Screaming out "Slicha!" (Excuse me!) has become automatic; I'm not even afraid of bumping into people anymore because clearly, that is how the Douche is navigated: by shopping cart assault and screaming. Really, it's an acquired talent, but once you've got it down, anything is possible.
5. You have a small Russian vocabulary without even trying to learn Russian. Everything in Bat Yam is labeled in Russian (usually instead of translation from Hebrew to English, it's Hebrew to Russian. Or there's no Hebrew at all). The kids at school speak Russian to one another occasionally, and I'm starting to pick up a few words (Hello, Goodbye, Yes and No). The best place to learn some great Russian words? Super Douche. See #4 above.
6. You walk outside your apartment in mid-October and immediately begin to sweat. Granted, Israel is hot. It's the desert. But 98 degrees in October? I think that's a bit excessive. I'd really like to start wearing jeans and long-sleeve shirts, but that will not happen in the foreseeable future.
7. The woman at the post office hates you for no reason other than the fact your mother sends packages often. I am beginning to believe that the Israeli post system is worse than that in America. Arriving at the post office with a package slip usually means you will get yelled at for "being here AGAIN?!" and of course, for not understanding the mix of Russian and Hebrew the woman behind the counter is speaking. Getting the correct package and escaping unharmed is a major victory.
8. Toothpaste is a free giveaway at Super Pharm. Super Pharm is the CVS of Israel; it's everywhere and they sell everything from shampoo to paper towels. The other day, I went in to replace my shampoo and conditioner. At home, my shampoo has some clever name with "No frizz" in the title. Well, as I looked for it in Super Pharm, I saw the tall orange bottle and written on the front "Infrizzable Woman." Clearly, I thought that was hysterical (translations on labels are generally funny) so now, I am the Infrizzable Woman (I bought a few bottles) along with some conditioner, soap and other necessities. Well, as it turns out, spending 200 shekels or more at Super Pharm gets you a free gift! I was picturing a pack of Must gum or something. But no. Toothpaste. Colgate toothpaste. When the woman at the cash register saw my face, she said "Doesn't sell very much. We give away as present." Toothpaste is not a big item around here - so it becomes a gift. Priceless.
9. A bus door has closed on your face at least twice, leaving you stranded on the sidewalk as you watch your friends go to Tel Aviv without you. Bus drivers in Israel are a particularly scary breed. They do not wait for you to be fully on the bus before shutting the bus doors and driving away. This sometimes results in leaving people behind, caught limbs and profanity. Or all of the above. However, now that my Hebrew is improving, I can tell the driver to wait, please. This is not always successful, but the rate of bus doors closing in our faces and driving off has sharply declined since our arrival.
10. Despite all the problems and setbacks, strange neighbors and the relentless heat, you don't want to live anywhere else. I really do love living in Bat Yam. It's going to be sad to leave in a month, but I know my time here has given me some of the best (and funniest) experiences!

Finally, time to breathe (and blog!)

Once again, I find myself apologizing for my lack of recent entries. It's been way too long! Here's the (not so) latest, but of course, the greatest, from Israel:

Last weekend, as I mentioned at the end of my last post, my entire Year Course section went to Haifa in the North. On Thursday, we drove to a Druze village and visited the shouk; the Druze are a minority in Israel, but serve in the military. Their religion, however, is a mystery; only a select few elders in the Druze community know and understand the inner workings of their beliefs, and cannot share their knowledge with others. After the Druze village (which resulted in some of the most delicious schwarma I have ever eaten) we drove to the top of Mt. Carmel, the highest elevation in Israel. Mt. Carmel used to have a waterfall flowing down one side, and now that the falls have dried, where the water used to be is a rocky trail called a "wadi." We started at the top of the mountain, climbed down the wadi (about three hours downhill) and then, in order to get back to meet our buses, we had to climb up a second mountain (it was straight up) and then back down the side of the second mountain. In the ancient world, it was the Carmel that kept invaders from entering Palestine from the North, which I now completely understand. No army (or person) could endure that schlep with horses, weapons, and God only knows what else. I barely made it to the end with my Northface backpack and water. However, I must admit a feeling of accomplishment when I reached the end of the trail (four hours later). That, and being completely sore from head to toe. Not to mention the dirt in which I was covered.

We spent the night in Haifa, and waking up the next morning was a challenge to say the least. My legs were throbbing, and I was sore in places in my arms and shoulders I didn't know I had muscles that could even feel sore. Once everyone was awake, packed, and had swallowed a sufficient amount of ibuprofen, we visited the Rothschild Gardens. Baron de Rothschild was a very wealthy guy; he gave very generously to building Israel's first settler communities. The most noteworthy part about the Rothschild Gardens is the "Blind Garden," which features plants with distinctive smells for those visitors who cannot see. We walked through the Blind Garden with our eyes closed, trying to identify the herbs and flowers planted there by scent alone. Some were easy to identify, but others were quite challenging!

After Rothschild, we went to Zikhron Yaakov, a small community outside of Haifa known for its pedestrian mall (yet, amazingly, people drive there anyway. Crazy Israeli drivers.) We visited the Ahronson House, where a spy ring operated in the early 1900s, passing intelligence about Egypt to the British. Later, we found a small cafe to enjoy lunch before returning to Bat Yam.

Once the week began again, time flew (as it tends to around here). The days truly get away from me; whether it be volunteering at Ben Gurion School (where I now have several fifth graders thinking I know Eminem because I'm American) or spending hours working on my midterm assessments for school (a research paper for Zionism and a project for Business Ethics) I always tell myself to blog, to catch up on silly things like my TV shows I download from iTunes, to email my family and friends. Let me take this time to apologize for not always getting around to it! I promise, I do think about all of you and miss you very much...

This week was especially busy because on Tuesday, all of Israel held memorial services for Yithak Rabin, who was assassinated in November of 1995. Every city holds a memorial, and I was asked to give a speech (there is always one presentation in English, and I was the speaker this year for Bat Yam) on behalf of Young Judaea at Bat Yam's service this year. The theme on which I was asked to speak was change: the meaning of change, the power of change, the methods in which we effect change. The original text of my speech is printed below (some of it was translated into Hebrew, and parts were taken out for the sake of time). It was truly an honor to present alongside the mayor of Bat Yam and a former Knesset member who was a friend of Rabin.

Thursday of this week was also a special day because a group of us took part in a tiyul (a trip) to Dialog in the Dark, Israel's blind museum. The museum was created for sighted people to experience the difficulties with which the blind community lives. Upon entering the museum, I held my hand to my nose and couldn't make out the outline of my fingers. It is truly blackness; my eyes never adjusted to the dark and I continued to stumble around, trip and call out to my friends. All of the guides in the museum are blind or visually impaired. The experience's affect on me was twofold: first, it forced my other senses to be heightened, especially hearing and touch. Secondly, I left with a new appreciation for my sense of sight. Over Shabbat, I found myself admiring the gorgeous moon and stars over Tel Aviv, taking in even small details like watching the traffic lights change and knowing what number bus to take. It's really true that you don't know what you've got till it's gone; after two hours without my sight, I want to take extra time to appreciate everything I am fortunate enough to see.

Tomorrow is yet another week; this coming Friday marks two months of me being in Israel! How crazy is that?! I'm looking forward to (finally) turning in my assignments, teaching on Tuesday (I'm hoping that Bar and Sapir did their homework correctly so I can give them stickers. It's amazing what some colorful, sticky-back pictures can do, incentive-wise) and an Idan Raichel concert Monday night (all of Year Course - 300 people - will be in attendance) and the Susan G. Komen walk for breast cancer awareness on Thursday (it's an all-day event in Jerusalem).

That's been the week(s) past, and a look forward. I hope my update finds you all well, and enjoying the beginnings of cold weather (I'm jealous. It's still 98 degrees here. In October).

I will post pictures soon (when I have both time and adequate internet connection).

Love always,
Elana


The Power of Change – Yitzhak Rabin Memorial
Bat Yam, 2010

Hello, my name is Elana Stern, and I am representing Young Judaea Year Course.

I like to think we made an active change in ourselves by deciding to spend nine months in Israel. Change is a frightening thing, both in theory and in practice. Making the decision to change is only half the battle; effecting that change and handling its potential setbacks and consequences is another challenge entirely. Instead of going directly (and predictably) from high school to college, we decided to take a risk, to make a change in the course of our lives. We have elected to jump over new hurdles, to explore the uncharted, to experience the road less traveled. In doing so, we effect change within ourselves and among those around us. Every day, we volunteer in the community of Bat Yam, aiming to improve the lives of others. We attend classes, we get involved in issues about which we care, we are handed opportunities that we can take or turn away. Our time here, and the decisions we make, have the power to effect change. Change is not often drastic, and it is not always welcome, but it is the only constant we experience.

Yitzhak Rabin was a man, and a leader, who understood the importance and the prominence of change. Long time politician, Knesset member and two-time Prime Minister of Israel until his untimely death in November of 1995, Rabin embodied the power of an individual’s potential to effect change for a better world. Faced with such problems as rehabilitating the IDF, socioeconomic issues and lack of public confidence in the Israeli government, Rabin’s political career was marked by achievements in diplomacy and his utmost involvement in engineering peace. In December 1994, Rabin was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, and in his acceptance speech, he noted:

“ I stand here mainly for the generations to come, so that we may all be deemed worthy of the medal which you have bestowed on me and my colleagues today.
I stand here as the emissary today -- if they will allow me -- of our neighbors who were our enemies. I stand here as the emissary of the soaring hopes of a people which has endured the worst that history has to offer and nevertheless made its mark -- not just on the chronicles of the Jewish people but on all mankind.”

His message is not revolutionary, it is not altogether new or groundbreaking, but it is, at its core, a plea for change. Rabin wanted peace, a peace that would take hold and eventually become permanent. He wanted a change for the future of Israel, and for the future of the world. He recognized the differences between his neighbors and his enemies, and sought to resolve them, to break the vicious circle of inconclusive politics and violence. He saw the possibility for change, for improvement, and committed his life to achieving goals driven by change he would never live to see.

Rabin, I believe it is safe to say, would not wait on the world to change. He would drive the change himself, speak out, loudly and fervently, on behalf of whatever the cause or purpose. Change is not simply making the decision to do something differently; it is actualizing our choices, it is taking active steps toward an end result, it is finding new answers to old questions. Change requires us to take risks, to stand at the forefront, and often, the desire for change necessitates defending our own beliefs in the face of adversity and stagnation. Change is progressive. Change is scary. Change is what we make it.

If you search for “change” in a thesaurus, you will find over one hundred different entries. Change can be a verb, a noun, or an adjective; defined as innovation, as something done differently, or smaller currency in exchange for that which is larger. Change is something we do, it is something we see, and something we experience. For Rabin, it meant new and improved politics, a dedication to achieving peace and lifetime spent, quite simply, doing things differently. For us, it means taking advantage of every new opportunity we are given. It means volunteering in new places and meeting new people. It means devoting ourselves to a cause, to a purpose, and watching our aspirations for change become realities. Change does not happen, it is made, change is not a possibility, it is a fact, and change will not always be easy or pleasant, but it will always be necessary. When we simplify it from complex ideas to everyday human action, change is the impact we have on ourselves and those around us; it is the differences we make in the world, no matter how small, which amassed among us, create a world better than the one with which we started.

Going Postal

Hello readers and welcome to week 7 of my adventure! Here's what's been happening since my last post:

On Thursday, my entire section of Year Course (there are about 100 of us) participated in Sports Day. Everyone who wanted to play soccer, volleyball or basketball signed up for their respective choice and was assigned to a team. To make the competition official, we all got t-shirts in a color specific to our team (mine was red). However, instead of printing "Section 2 Sports Day" on the back of the shirt, I now own a piece of clothing with "Section 2 Ball Tournament" written across my shoulders. In very large letters. Something was clearly lost in translation when making up the shirts, but regardless, we could have made laughing about "Ball Tournament" an activity in and of itself.

After Sports Day came to a close (my team, unfortunately, did not win in the end. Bummer) it was time for my second meeting with the Social Action Rwanda track. Before we leave for Rwanda at the end of January, we have several meetings and orientations to prepare for our trip. This past week, a survivor of the genocide, Martin, came to share his story with us. He moved to Israel 3 years ago, with his wife, and is now a student at Tel Aviv University where he studies, of all subjects, conflict resolution. During the genocide, his family, who he told us is Hutu, helped protect their Tutsi friends and neighbors, hiding them from persecution. Unfortunately, not all of those they protected survived. His family, however, which includes seven brothers and sisters and his parents, are all still living in Rwanda; the likelihood of entire families surviving was slim to none, so his story is truly remarkable. What was most interesting was his mention of the division between Hutus and Tutsis. He said his family is "considered" Hutu; when he was growing up, no one knew who belonged to what group. It wasn't until the government forced everyone to carry identification cards that the two ethnic groups became so defined; thus began the genocide. At the end of his story, Martin told us plans to return to Rwanda in November to see his family and their village.

Friday began a weekend of girls-only shabbat; it started off with a rain storm! On the bus to Tel Aviv, torrential downpour stopped traffic, pedestrians were caught completely off guard, and Allenby and King George Streets began to flood. It was truly a sight! After puddle-jumping our way off the bus, we explored the food stands at Dizengoff Center, where, every Friday, the spiraling hallways of the shopping mall are lined with cuisine from every corner of the earth. For lunch, we had bowls of Indian food (curried chicken, rice, and vegetables) and for dinner, we went to the homemade pasta stand for several types of penne, ravioli, gnocchi and sauces. We did, however, spend some time debating among the Chinese food, sushi rolls, Middle Eastern specialities and, of course, crepes. Very serious consideration and deliberation took place.

Saturday was spent at the beach; it's finally cooling down here (i.e. rain in October) so by late afternoon, it was time to pack up our towels and begin getting ready for the Israel vs. Croatia soccer game. Brinley, our friend Kayleigh and I bought face paint (and glitter, naturally) at Dizengoff (after deciding what food to buy, since that always takes precedence) to show our Israel team spirit! Too bad no amount of face paint or glitter in the world could help this team. First of all, it was a 9 PM start, and we didn't arrive at the Ramat Gan stadium until almost 8:45. At this point, every drunken soccer fan in the country (i.e the majority of the population) had already entered the stadium, painted their chest and was screaming for a hot dog, a goal, or more beer. It really did all sound the same from me. Now, let me explain something. The stadium seats approximately 80,000 people. They had clearly oversold tickets, because not only was there nowhere to sit, there was barely room to stand. Or breathe. This made going to Livingston Bagel Deli on a Sunday morning seem like a calm, civilized experience (for those of you who have never been to Livingston Bagel on a Sunday morning, just imagine a zoo of people, fighting over baked goods, complaining that their order is wrong, that they've been waiting for three hours, etc. etc. Now put all of that into Hebrew, magnify by about thirty decibels, and add cigarette smoke. You then begin to approach this stadium on a Saturday night). In any case, once the game started, we decided, in the true spirit of attending a sporting event, to check out the concession stand. Bad, bad idea. They were making Hebrew National hot dogs as fast as they could (not fast enough) and literally throwing cups of Coke and bags of sunflower seeds everywhere. Mind you, the concept of waiting in lines and being patient is completely foreign in Israel, so Brinley and I (both of us are barely 5 feet, and clearly American) managed to escape the throngs of people, I believe, by the threat of having blue face paint smeared all over their white soccer jerseys should they smack into us. We escaped with hot dogs (and even some mustard!) a bag of sunflower seeds and a Coke between the two of us.

The game, unfortunately, was uneventful for the most part. Croatia scored twice in the first half (I'm pretty sure the entire country of Croatia was at the game. They fit into one section, and looked like one large, confused picnic blanket. Their team is red and white checkered print shirts, so put them all together and they begin to resemble barbecue decor). Israel didn't make an attempt at a comeback until after halftime, with about five minutes left. I guess their coach threatened them with no falafel or some such punishment, because they were making a serious effort. In their defense, the refereeing was clearly stacked against them; I'm not exactly a soccer buff, but I know unfair calls when I see them. Eyal Whathisname did not deserve a yellow card. The guy from Croatia tripped over his own two left feet. To make things interesting, a very drunk, frustrated fan jumped onto the field with about two minutes left and began running across. It took four security guards to stop him, tackle him and escort him off the field. When that is a high point of a game, you're in trouble. It ended 2-1, but I got an Israel scarf (it's actually quite cool. It's reversible) and Brinley bought an Israeli flag to hang in our room. So really, it was an excellent evening.

Sunday was supposed to be a relaxing day. I had received an email from a member of the Year Course staff telling me I had a package slip in the office and that I should pick it up sometime Sunday so I could go to the post office. I figured I could get some sleep, get my package slip and wander to the post office later in the day. Too bad I got a phone call around 7 AM. An angry Israeli voice greeted me on the other end: "This is Elana Stern? Your package, it is in the office of your Year Course. Don't come to post office for it." What a wake up call. I didn't even get a "boker tov." I swear, for an intelligent and modern country, their postal service is awful. But, I guess if that's my biggest complaint, things are going well overall. Better than well. Things are great. Fabulous, even. Just not the post office. They're less than fabulous.


That's the latest and greatest from here. It's another full week of volunteering, classes and all-around shenanigans. Thursday we're taking a group trip up North to Haifa - I'm so excited! I will do my best to update you all again between now and when we leave.

All my love,
Elana

PS: If Gad ever shows up to fix our router, I might be able to upload pictures!

Oh, to the left!

First, let me start by apologizing for my lack of recent entries. It's been way too long since my last post, but let me explain why:

On Friday morning, the tsofim (Israeli scouts) took a group of us to the Kinneret for a tiyul (a trip). We arrived midday on Friday, set up our "camp site" (no tents, dirt and sleeping bags only) and swam in the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). Later, we had a barbecue and, naturally, a dance party (no camping trip is complete without the right amount of techno and obnoxious autotune). After roughing it for a night we traveled to our water hike! In some parts, the water was ankle-deep, in others, it hit my shoulders, but throughout, it was very rocky and slippery. I emerged muddy, tired and black and blue (unfortunately, there is no photographic evidence of this because I didn't want to risk ruining my camera. The trek was dangerous enough without begin responsible for any form of technology). Since you are all familiar, I'm sure, with my deep love for nature and the great outdoors (bahaha) you can imagine my attitude toward my post-camping, post-hike state: I needed a shower. Badly.

We returned to Bat Yam on Saturday night; I smelled like what I'm sure is a cross between unclean feet and horse manure (it was that bad, let me tell you). On Sunday, after a brief meeting to discuss my volunteering program, I went to Tel Aviv to take another dance class; this time, I tried jazz. I hopped into a cab, and, just my luck, I got the most talkative driver in Israel. He wanted to know if I liked the music he was playing. Where I was from. Why was I staying in Bat Yam? (An excellent question, I might add. I get that quite a lot). Eventually, the Spanish Inquisition ended, he dropped me off, and asked what time I needed to be picked up later that night. I told him I didn't. I could not have handled another half hour of that for the life of me.

I arrived in plenty of time, found a spot to stretch before class began, and waited for the teacher to take command of the class with what is usually a high-pitched "Yala!" ("Let's go!") As soon as Roy (I was expecting Roy to be 6 foot and dark and handsome. This Roy is a girl, she is maybe 5'2'' and not more than 100 pounds) started barking at us, I stood up and moved toward the front of the class. "Smoll!" she screamed. "Yes, I'm short," I thought to myself, "I'll move up more so the taller, lankier girls (i.e. everyone in the room) can have more space." As it turns out, she wasn't yelling at me to move up because I'm a dwarf. "Smoll" means "left." She wanted me to move over. Ooops. But, now I understand "smoll" and "yemeen" (right). So, later in the class, when she began ordering "Veh, step, smoll, yemeen, smoll, veh turn veh jump veh yemeen!" I understood. I was very proud of myself for figuring that much out and keeping up in the class when the music stopped and Roy came up to me and motioned for me to repeat a piece of the combination we had just learned. I really thought I was in trouble. Then she started explaining something in rapid fire Hebrew and asked me if I could please... All I could think to myself was "No, I cannot because I only understood that last part because my Hebrew is about as good as your Swahili, so I have no idea what you want me to do." Well, I smiled, said "Slicha" (which means "excuse me," or "sorry." Always a good word to throw in when things get awkward. Which for me is all the time) and explained, in English, that I'm from America, I'm living here for a while, I've been dancing for my whole life and wanted to continue while in Israel. Everyone in the class found this intriguing; they wanted to know if I've been to New York, if I know Beyonce, if I understood a word that had been said during the past hour. My answers went something like: Yes, I love New York, it's 30 minutes from my house, but no, I don't know Beyonce, and no, I don't understand anything you've said in the last hour, but I'm glad I fooled you all! As it turned out, Roy wanted me to demonstrate a piece of the choreography we had learned, which flattered me, and she was more impressed when she found out that my Hebrew is so limited. After telling me she wants to see me next week in her class, she ordered me to get my leg higher. Too bad it was at my face already. Her response? "It can always go higher!" How Israeli are we? Answer: very.

Monday was a full day of classes; I'm learning prepositions and verbs. Watch out, world, Elana can make Hebrew sentences! Today (Tuesday) I began full-time volunteering at the Ben Gurion school. For the first hour, I work in a sixth grade English class of 25 students. Of the 25, maybe 10 actually sat for the entire class doing their assigned worksheets and exercises; the rest ran around outside, screamed at one another, and wreaked general havoc. It was madness. One of the particularly engaged students, Daria, held a complete conversation with me in English; she wanted to know where I'm from, what America is like, and if I know Justin Bieber. I told her not personally, but I know of him. The fact that she laughed led me to believe that her English is nearly fluent; she later told me that her parents enrolled her in an after school program to supplement her English skills, and they practice with her at home. Unfortunately, many students do not share her enthusiasm. For example, her classmate Mordecai told me he never needs to learn English because everyone he knows speaks Hebrew. I asked him, "What about me? How can we talk and be friends if you don't help me with my Hebrew and I don't help you with English?" At this, he opened his notebook and began his grammar exercises. It was a small victory, granted, but one more sixth grader practicing his sentence formation instead of raising hell in the schoolyard.

After a short break, we went into a fifth grade class (except there were 35 of them; the extra 10 does make a huge difference) to do more of the same: encourage an unruly group of ten and eleven year-olds to open their workbooks instead of run around outside. Upon introducing myself, a group of girls, Bar, Sapir and Maziel, surrounded me, asking for help with their worksheets and their overwhelming vocabulary lists. I sat them each down, and began explaining the exercises in the simplest terms I could; they corrected my Hebrew mistakes and I made sure to make little notes in colored marker where their English grammar was incorrect. At the end of the day, Bar pulled out a sticker book from her backpack and peeled off the biggest heart-shaped one she could find. "For you," she told me, "for teaching me all the best English!" She hugged me and ran down the hallway. As I was leaving, she and her friends came to find me and practiced, as I had taught them, "See you soon!" The sticker Bar gave me is currently on my water bottle; I'm hoping to have a complete heart and rainbow collection papering my Nalgene by the time I finish teaching at their school.

That's been the last week (almost) and now I'm looking forward to the Israel vs. Croatia soccer game on Saturday night (a bunch of us decided to go!). I am that desperate to watch professional sports. But, in any case, it should be a great time; I just need to learn how to say "run faster," "score a goal," and "trip him" in Hebrew. Shouldn't take long.

Love from the Holy Land,
Elana

Sorry, I don't have a screwdriver

DISCLAIMER: This post was meant to be published Thursday, September 30, but due to unreliable internet connection (problem detailed below) and my recent encounters with nature, now is the best I could do:

Hello everyone! I hope all is well. Today is the end of Sukkot, and tomorrow is Simchat Torah; most of Israel is currently closing down for the holiday, which is the perfect reason for me to update all of you! I realize that my last post was on Sunday, so here is what has happened since:

On Monday, my roomies went to Latet early in the morning, so I was left in (what I though was) an empty apartment for the majority of the day. When I finally stumbled out of bed around 10, I groggily walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast and coffee. Before I crossed from the hallway where my bedroom is to the kitchen entry way, I was greeted "Eh, hello, eh." I literally jumped out of my skin. There was a man sitting on our couch, laptop open on the coffee table, waving at me and grinning. I had no idea where he had come from or what he was doing there. All I could think was, "Thank God I'm wearing actual pajamas right now." He continued: "I am eh, very sorry! I am here from, eh, how you say? Computer company! Yes, I am here to fix internet for you!" He kept apologizing that he didn't mean to scare me, and explained that he had been knocking on our door for about 10 minutes before using a key that maintenance had given him in case no one was home. Well, I had been home, but I was sleeping like a rock, and the air conditioning unit above my bed makes it impossible to hear anything happening in other rooms of the apartment. Anyway, he introduced himself as Gad (of course, I though to myself, Oh, nice to finally meet you, I've been waiting almost 19 years. You're tall and Israeli and you fix internet connections. Just as I pictured you) and after screaming into his phone for a while, told me he had to find his friend Moshe to fix the "eh, the eh, how you say? Router! Yes, the eh router!" I was getting ready to leave to drop off laundry and go about my day, so I offered him something to eat or drink (which he declined) and told him I would be back in a few hours. He replied: "Eh, I'm leaving also! I eh, go with you!" I thought, "Oh, where exactly are we going?" but then he clarified by telling me he would be back later in the day to fix the, eh, how you say? Router.

I returned to the apartment, Windexed every surface and mopped the floors, and was about to begin a blog entry when Gad knocked on the door. He came in, asking for a screwdriver. Do I LOOK like I have a screwdriver? Let me just pull one out of my purse. I'm sorry, I left my toolbox at home along with my wrench and bolt cutters. I told him, sadly, no, I did not have a screwdriver, only duct tape, aluminum foil and some Prigat mango juice. He did not understand my humor, so I dropped it, he called Moshe screaming again, and told me the router could not be fixed until another time, when he can, eh, use a, eh screwdriver to make it how you say? Work. So that was inconclusive. But I met Gad (teehee) and am now strongly considering investing in some tools to keep around the house.

In any event, Monday afternoon was beautification, Tel Aviv style! My roommate and I found a salon off Sheinkin Street, where we indulged in manicures, pedicures and the like. It was quite necessary (the woman who, unfortunately, got stuck doing my pedicure, wore a mask while fixing my feet. I knew they were bad, but apparently, even I underestimated the state of my heels. All better now!

After getting back from Tel Aviv, my friends and I decided to check out the Bat Yam Biennale. The Biennale (which literally means "biannual" in Italian) happens every two years and is a celebration of urban growth, improvement and art. Every time the festival happens, new projects are begun, like refurbishing parks, creating new recreation centers, or coming up with new ways for Bat Yam to be a more ecologically friendly city. The idea of biennale was originally a European one; the Paris Biennale is famously associated with art expositions that last for a few days and then are taken down. What's great about the Bat Yam Biennale festival is that the projects started during Biennale remain ongoing and live to see completion; they are not taken down after a few days. The festival itself was three days, on the beach (which messed up all bus routes quite well, so I spent a considerable amount of time finding my way from a collection of bizarre side streets back to the tayelet - the boardwalk along the beach) and so much fun!

On Tuesday morning, I got up early and spent the morning working at a local school (on my street, actually!) for children with special needs. The children at this school spend a full day there - from 8 AM to 6 PM or later, ranging in age from 6 to 20. In the spirit of the holidays, we did Sukkot-themed activities with them, including making fruit salad "eem dvash" (with honey), dancing to Israeli music (they were very enthusiastic about this) and making arts and crafts, including flower hats. At the end, a bunch of the kids stood up and thanked us in Hebrew, explaining how much fun they had, and they hoped we would come back. I certainly hope to volunteer there again!

Tuesday afternoon was a trip back to Cinema City to see (finally) Eat, Pray, Love, which was amazing, and made me thank myself for calming down my schwarma habit - Julia Roberts' character ends up needing larger pants due to too much Italian pastry and pizza. That cannot be me (just replace the Italian food with laffa and ice cream, and it could potentially be a problem).

That's the most exciting news from here - I am leaving on Friday morning for a tiyul (a trip) with our tsofim (scouts) to the Kinneret. We are going to the beach, camping out, and going on a water hike on Saturday morning! I can't wait!

More soon - and more pictures, when the internet cooperates and ehh, how you say? Works.

Lots of love,
Elana

Pictures (of normal size, I hope)

The view of Jerusalem from the top of the youth hostel.


Me, with the "bead guy" in the shouk.


Pictured above: the Ben Gurion School, where I'll be volunteering. The kids put on a show about the three major holidays (Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot), and we were invited to watch!

Saturday Night in the Big City

If you are considering going to see a movie on a Saturday night in this country, don't. Never, under any circumstances, should you act on that idea. Bake a cake. Go to the beach. Knit a sweater (that's too hot to wear in Israel) but do not, ever, go see a movie on a Saturday night. Let me tell you why. Almost everything closes Friday in the late afternoon for Shabbat, remains closed all day Saturday, and reopens Saturday night. Cinema City is no exception to this rule. Everybody and their Uncle Ofer goes to Cinema City on Saturday night to see a movie. Well, I didn't know this, and neither did my roommate. So, like idiots (dumb Americans), we went to try and see Eat, Pray, Love last night. Major mistake. We got to the complex, and not only was it swarming with people, the line for movie tickets bent around at least twenty deep. It was madness. I was pushed and shoved in every direction, by people twice my size and four times my age (lines are not really an Israeli thing. Neither is patience. Hmm) When I finally got to the front of the line, I was informed that the 9 PM show had sold out (thank you, Shabbat, and thank you, lack of Fandango. You really don't appreciate the small stuff till it's gone. Or till it's all in Hebrew) and we could only see the midnight movie. I had to wake up early for volunteering, so midnight was not happening. In any case, we went to our favorite Thai restaurant for dinner and the manager gave us dessert on the house (apple pie with vanilla ice cream, naturally. Between the English menus and simply by being ourselves, we radiate American-ness, so why shouldn't our dessert be American, too? Go figure). We are hoping to see the movie later this week, but it won't be on a Saturday. You could not get me to Cinema City with a ten foot pole on a Saturday. No thank you.

This morning I woke up extra early to spend the day volunteering at one of Israel's largest aid facilities, Latet. Latet is an incredibly large warehouse that operates as a human needs food pantry. Donations are shipped and delivered to the warehouse (it's about 45 minutes away from Bat Yam) in boxes of assorted canned goods and non-perishable foods. Volunteers (i.e. us) then unpack all the donations, sort them, and repack them in official Latet boxes (organized by food type, number, and weight) to be given to those in need. We were told to meet at a central point in Bat Yam, bring snacks and water, and prepare for a long day. That was it. No other specifications. Upon arriving, the guy running the warehouse saw our shoes and shook his head disapprovingly. We were wearing sandals. Everyone in Israel wears sandals. You wear sneakers for one of two reasons: 1) you're exercising, or 2) you're a tourist. We weren't doing the first and we're trying to avoid the second, so flip flops have become a permanent outfit staple of mine. However, we couldn't wear sandals to work in the warehouse, but we had schlepped to the food bank, ready to volunteer, so we had to figure something out. Luckily, there is a large sporting goods store a few blocks from Latet, so our group leader Eyal took us to purchase some shoes, on Year Course's dime, not our own. The store window is papered with recognizable name brands: Converse, Adidas, Nike. Unfortunately, none of these were in the cards for us. Eyal made a point of telling the woman behind the counter we needed cheap, closed-toe shoes. Sure enough, she came up with a solution: water shoes. Yes, water shoes. Ugly, hot, blue water shoes that run in odd European sizes and cost 50 shekel a pair, less if you buy in bulk (which we did). So, I spent today packing and unpacking canned goods, oil, and rice in blue water shoes two sizes too big for my feet. I understood why they were so cheap when I took them off on the bus ride home: my feet had turned blue. From the shoes. Oh, excellent. But apart from the shoes (which we were laughing about after an hour) volunteering at Latet was awesome. It was hot, sweaty and tiring, but awesome. I think I packed six hundred or so bags of rice, hundreds of bottles of oil, and tons of salt, flour and canned goods. We were working with a group of Israeli soldiers who have recently started their army training and need to fulfill community service requirements, so they got a kick out of us trying to read the Hebrew labels on everything (when they stopped laughing, they helped us). It was a fantastic experience - I'll post pictures when I can!

After Latet, I ventured to Super Douche (oy) to purchase enough chicken to feed forty hungry girls. One of the girls' apartments hosted a pot luck dinner tonight, and every apartment had to bring a dish. We were in charge of chicken because my cacciatore was, apparently, a success. So, three kilos of chicken (almost seven pounds), seven large onions, garlic, oregano, two cartons of mushrooms and two cans of tomatoes later, we had cacciatore. Two aluminum tins of it. And there were barely leftovers. Only once the first batch was gone did I realize I forgot the olives. Sorry, Mom. Not only did each apartment have to cook, we all had to dress up in a theme. Since we knew it would be a night of walking all around Bat Yam, carrying chicken cacciatore through town (that's something they don't see very often - mobile chicken cacciatore. Or cacciatore in general), we opted for comfort: we were a slumber party and all showed up dressed in our pajamas! One apartment dressed up as ninjas, the hosting apartment got creative with their plastic Super Douche bags and were "super douches" and another group came as superheroes. It was quite the party.

That's been the last 36 hours, but to backtrack a little further, I finally went to dance class this past Saturday! I joined a studio in Tel Aviv called Studio B (it's the Israel equivalent to Broadway Dance or Steps... major New York studios) and with my membership, I can take any advanced class I want! On Saturday, I woke up early and went to advanced ballet. I later learned that one of the girls in the class had spent the summer in New York at Juilliard. She was the best one there. But all told, I felt pretty comfortable with the level, the teacher and the other dancers there. Granted, it was all in Hebrew (but all ballet terminology is in French, so I understood 80% of what happened) but I held my own. Luckily, I can count to eight in Hebrew (dancers only need to know how to count to eight. Not even ten, just eight) and although I was the youngest one in the class, I was certainly not the least trained. No dance teacher of mine has ever, until now, said "Shabbat Shalom," instructed me to tuck in my "toussik" (butt) or told me not to flex my foot by screaming "lo chazarah!" ("flex" in Hebrew, from what I gathered, is "chazarah," like "chazarai," or "clutter"). When we began combinations across the floor, I understood we were beginning at the corner when I heard "pinot," as in the song about Haman's three-cornered hat we sing on Purim (shalosh pinot = three corners). Thank you, Hebrew school. Who ever thought a song about Haman's silly hat would make me look like less of an idiot in ballet class? Not me, that's for sure.

Those are all the most interesting tidbits for now. My friends and I went to the American bar, Mike's Place, to watch the Giants lose, so that was a disappointment, and now the only thing left to do is get some sleep. I think that's my next logical move: pajamas. But not to eat dinner (I could not eat another thing if you asked me to), to finally go to bed.

Good night from Bat Yam, more soon,

Elana xoxox

Love You from Jeru!

Hello everyone! I hope this post finds you well. I got home from Jerusalem yesterday, and it was another amazing trip to the Old City. My roomie and I left Wednesday morning, early (we got up at 7 AM to catch a bus... but not before we had coffee and breakfast, of course) and got in to Jerusalem for the Bezalel Art Festival. The Festival was situated on several small side streets and parks, which made for a very cute backdrop to the many stations filled with handmade goods. After much exploration, we hit Ben Yehudah for lunch at Moshiko for some of the BEST shwarma in Israel, and ate it in a sukkah! What's really cool about Sukkot in Israel is that not only do families build their sukkahs, but restaurants and even some shops build them as well, and invite their customers in for a meal, shopping, etc. Walking on Ben Yehudah, which, for those of you who have experienced it, is already craziness, only becomes more difficult when you are not only dodging people, but sukkahs! Luckily, there was no falling schach (the branches on top of the sukkah, which are pretty heavy) and I think all sukkah-related injuries were avoided. Phew.

Once we exhausted King George, Ben Yehudah, and the art festival, we decided to head back into the Old City to check into our hostel. The Citadel Youth Hostel is built into the walls of the Old City, behind the Jaffa Gate. The rooms and hallways were once all part of an elaborate tunnel system; now they house travelers like us. The room had one large bed (we shared it), a closet full of blankets (none of which are necessary in September in Jerusalem... it's not that cold yet) a sink, and a broken bedside fan. Bathrooms and showers are all community property. I stuck to washing my face and wore my flip flops everywhere (you taught me well, Mom). At all hours of the night, we heard church bells from the Christian quarter, screaming from the Arab shouk below, and of course, tourists trying to find their way in a variety of languages along the alleyway over which our lone window looked. To say it was an interrupted night of sleep would be inaccurate. More like a series of naps, each with a stranger wakeup call. And then around 5 AM, the imam started at the Dome of the Rock. While it certainly wasn't the most restful night, it wins in most multi-cultural and definitely most adventure-filled.

After finally surrendering to the children playing in the street (quite loudly) and the church bell/imam symphony, we wandered into the shouk for breakfast of bagelach (oval-shaped bread with sesame seeds - absolutely delicious) and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. The biggest question was if we wanted sweet juice or tart; we learned that overripe pomegranates yield sweeter juice, while fresh ones are more sour. We opted for sweet. Total? 15 shekels for two juices and the bread. Deal of the century.

Once breakfast was over, we walked to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where it is believed that Jesus was resurrected. We walked around, climbing the impossibly narrow and steep stairs to get an overhead view of the people surrounding the Stone of Unction (where Jesus was, it is believed, prepared for burial), placing their valuables on the marble stone and blessing them. When we realized that every tour group in Israel was coming into the Church, we decided it would be an opportune time to leave, so we walked to a local park, outside of the Old City, for a Sukkot nap. Eventually, we went out for a late lunch (at the Focaccia Bar, highly recommended. It's non-kosher, so they serve shrimp and are open on all holidays and Shabbat. Score) and then walked back into the shouk (with our bargaining hats on) for some shopping. We visited my favorite bead store, and of course, found some incredible necklaces made from Bedouin beads, and stopped at the spice market for some dried fruit and almonds. If you're in the market for frankincense and myrrh, go visit this guy in the shouk - he has it. He didn't want us taking any pictures in his shop, and I'm pretty sure it's because frankincense and myrrh shouldn't be available for purchase (I mean, that stuff shows up in Shakespeare's plays, and look what happens to Romeo and Juliet after visiting the apothecary. Not a good scene). But, after making our way (quite successfully) through the market, tasting new juices (all of which we watched them squeeze for us, to order) and dodging the flailing lulavs (one of the four species, a frond of a date plant, which represents the human spine, along with the etrog, which looks like a lemon, and represents the heart), we picked up our bags from the hostel and began the journey back to Bat Yam.

Now, I need to explain something. Time in Israel works very differently from time in the United States. If you are told something will take ten minutes, expect it to take twenty. If someone tells you they will be at your house by 5 PM, they'll be there by 5:30 if you're lucky. We got to the Jerusalem Central Bus Station, and it was closed. It was supposed to reopen at 6:00 because buses began running around then. 6:05. 6:10. Around 6:15, they finally opened the doors and we made it through the elaborate metal detectors and security. We were trying to catch a 6:20 bus back to Tel Aviv. How we made it, I will never know, but we did. We changed buses in Tel Aviv and were en route to Bat Yam when we both realized we were starving. Our late treif lunch had been several hours ago, it was nearing 9 PM, and we needed food. Pizza. We needed pizza. Luckily, after some serious Google Blackberry searches, we came across Casa Del Papa Pizza, on Ben Gurion Street in Bat Yam. They delivered half an hour later (give or take ten minutes). I highly doubt dough with cheese and vegetables had ever tasted so delicious.

Today was Friday, so the markets off of Sheinkin Street in Tel Aviv were open. We got a late start, visited Super Katzenelson for a few essentials (I hadn't been there in over three days. The woman who owns the place was probably getting nervous) and then made our way to Sheinkin. We explored downtown Tel Aviv (the Sheinkin area is like the SoHo of Israel) and I came across pre-peeled garlic for the first time since moving here, (I was very excited, and of course, had to buy some). Later, we were lucky enough to be invited to our madricha's home for Shabbat dinner (our madricha, Ariel, is like our counselor/ supervisor while we're in Israel). We ate way too much, played a few too many rounds of cards, and here I am, updating you on the latest and greatest. It's been an eventful few days. Tomorrow is my first day as a Studio B dance student (I joined the studio as a visiting dancer, so every month I need to renew my membership) and I'm going to take a few classes. Wahoo!! I have missed dance SO much.

Class is early, and I don't want my new Israeli dance teachers thinking I have two left feet, so that's all for now. Pictures soon, I promise (they're off my camera, they just need to be put online!)

Lots of love,
Elana xox