Friday, August 08, 2008

Please Refer to My New Blog(s)...

From here on out, those of you who wish to continue following my life, please read my two new blogs:


Aron's 1000 Things to Do Before I Die @ www.arons1000things.blogspot.com


and


Life Is Like Riding A Bicycle @ www.lifeisabicycle.blogspot.com



Monday, January 08, 2007

One Week Later

Well. One week ago today I was getting off the plane, stepping back onto US soil for the first time in four months. One week ago today, I was numb, unable to feel much emotion while my peers broke down around me. One week ago, I couldn't believe what was happening.

One week ago, I couldn't fathom life in the "real world."

Now, that week has passed. And I'm still here.

How am I doing? That's a popular question around these parts at the moment.

I'm...I'm...getting by, I suppose. School is keeping me busy-ish, although I'm only taking three real classroom-based classes. We've started working on our new production, "David & Lisa", and I'm assisting on design concepts, as well as running and working with sound for the show.

I start work on the final segment of my film tomorrow, and begin the 18-week process of making it into a final piece tomorrow as well. It scares me a bit, just because this will be my grade for the entire year, and maybe just the trick to boost me into a great film and journalism school.

Both my suitcases were unpacked last night, shortly after I worked the first wedding show of the year with Dad and Tina. We hopefully will book a lot of weddings...some money would be nice sometime soon. Not a lot, but..."if I were a rich man, deebadoobadoobadoobada..."

Now don't get me wrong. I love my friends, and they're great. Nothing's really changed at school; everyone's dated everyone else, teh same old couples are still together and still too damn cute. The departments are the same with some new additions. And admittedly, aside from getting a bit skinnier and curvier, my friends haven't changed.

Myself, I'm different. Very different.

I can't yet say how, but I know that I'm a very different young man from the Aron that left Birmingham and got on a 21-seat Delta Connection jet about 4 months and 2 weeks ago. The old Aron is still there, but there's a lot of new material as well.

That's what I'm trying to deal with. And perhaps why I'm finding myself rather depressed a good amount of the time in the past week. I miss Israel. I miss the kids (although not too much). The way of life in America...I don't really like it that much. Too much concrete, too much metal, glass. Too much of everything.

Even worse, I can't get over the feeling that this is just a temporary thing. And moreover, my memories of Israel are buried somewhere in the back of my head. It feels like I never left, or even that I went a long time ago. My mind won't grasp the fact that I have to re-acclimate. So...I haven't. Yet.

I don't know how to re-acclimate, to fit back in here. I'm feeling pretty damn aimless and depressed. And it sucks. I'm in a rut that gets deeper every day.

This morning, everyone stood while the Pledge of Allegiance was said aloud. I abstained, and silently sang Hatikvah. Tomorrow morning, I get to have the car to myself for the first time. My bikes are getting ridden. It keeps me sane.

I hate this feeling. I don't know what to do with myself. Or how to process the past semester of my life, or how to apply it, or even how to tell people about my experiences.

I've decided to go talk to my school counselor, as well as some other distinguished figures, and some people that are just good friends. I want to be cheery, and go out, and have a social life.

I want to be a normal teen again.

But at the same time...I want to be my own person, and live for myself.

One week has passed, and it feels like a year.


L'Shalom,
--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com
(205) 515-0055 [US]

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Home

Shortly after celebrating the New Year, I went back to my room and finished the packing of my life into two suitcases and a carry-on. At 6am, we had breakfast (after pulling an all-nighter) and went up to the Tel to watch the sunrise from atop the Crusader castle ruins at Tzuba. At exactly 6:40am, a massive flaming orange ball rose on the horizon over Jerusalem and the hills in the foreground. This was our going-away present from the shemesh (sun), in my humble opinion, and the time soon came to head back down.



Frantically, our group finished packing, loaded all our stuff onto the bus, and before I knew what had happened, Tzuba was behind us for the last time. Next thing I knew, we arrived at Ben Gurion Int'l Airport in Tel Aviv. Then, our bags were checked and I was in possession of my boarding passes--I got two, one for my heavy camera bag carry-on that the lady didn't want to be in an overhead bin.

At security, I said my goodbyes to my madrichim, Ray, Josh, Tom, and Ariella and to Baruch Kraus, the principle. Off I went through security, and then to the gate, where I waited and had a croissant and coffee. By 11am Monday, the morning of January 1st, I was on an Israir 767 headed for JFK Int'l in New York.

Oddly enough, while most of my chaverim around me were turning into piles of mush and sobbing, I really didn't feel that much of anything. Sure, I was aware of what was happening, but it wasn't really hitting me quite yet. This feeling would carry on for a while, and is still bugging me at the moment, although not so much.

After the longest 13-hour flight of my life, we landed at JFK and said our goodbyes to all the Northeastern-ers whose parents came to get them, bringing our number to a mere 11 kids. We holed up in a Holiday Inn Express for the night, and ate pizza and commiserated with each other. Still, nothing hit me emotionally.

The morning of Tuesday the 2nd came, the night having given me very little sleep. Saying more goodbyes, and then it was my turn to get on the shuttle and leave. More bawling piles of flesh hugging and kissing...still nothing on my end.

Standing in line for Delta, all the way through security, to my gate and onto the plane, I felt simply numb. Off to Cincinnati, where my bags promptly were lost without my knowledge.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're about 15 minutes outside of Birmingham, weather is clear, in the 50s..."

It hit me. I started to bawl. The floodgates opened.

And the woman beside me turned and said "what in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm going home, ma'am."

"Oh. That's nice."

"Yeah."

At baggage claim, I was greeted by one of my best friends, who nearly knocked me over with a hug. Shortly thereafter, my parents showed up and surprised the hell out of me. See attached photo.



Delta lost both my bags, and they arrived at 4pm this afternoon, roughly 26 hours after my plane landed in B'ham. And today was my first venture back to school in four months. On a good note, nothing's really changed there. On another note, I've changed a lot.

Last night, I had my first unkosher meal in four months--chicken and cheese enchiladas, complements of El Cazador. And after registering and seeing a few friends, as well as finding out my schedule for hte rest of the year, I got to go back to dad's office and take a short bike ride. Then, a hair cut (much needed) and some major unpacking, as well as a visit by another good friend.

I love being home.

But at the same time...I want to be back in Israel.

Tomorrow is my first real day of school. We'll see how that goes.

And like I said previously in an entry:


"This isn't the end of the journey; it's only the beginning of the rollercoaster."


Lila Tov,

--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com
(205) 515-0055

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Leaving On a Jet Plane...

I sit here with a few brave colleagues. It is 3:38 AM and we celebrated New Years about three hours ago, right after Mac and myself MC'd and ran the Final Banquet, at which we thanked and appreciated our teachers and mentors over the last four months.

My plane leaves in less than six hours, and ten hours after that, I'll be in New York. After staying the night, I'll catch a plane back to Birmingham and arrive in the afternoon, home again.

I'm terrified.

Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to see my parents, and my friends, and some pork ribs, but there's something about this place that I can't shake off. Israel is now a home to me, and I can't imagine leaving. Much like the hours leading up to my leaving America, I feel like I won't be able to fit into society where I'm going. It may not seem like it to me, but four months is a long time to be abroad, and especially in Israel.

I've got so many questions that scare me...Will my friends still be there for me like they were before? Have they changed? Has home changed? My parents?

Have I changed?

I'm just unsure of a lot of things, and I really don't know how I'm going to fit back into good ole Alabama culture. I've got a few hours to contemplate, plus teh agonizing ten-hour plane ride to JFK. I get to stay the night in New York, then off again in the morning for home.

And I thought this trip a rollercoaster...I think the real rollercoaster is just beginning.

L'Shanah Tova (Happy New Year),

--Aron

ps-aronaltmark@aol.com or (205) 515-0055 [US phone]

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Adventures in the Arava and Negev Deserts (plus some contemplation)

Last Thursday, December 21st, I took the last of my final exams, including two 5-page essay questions for our "Israel: Land, Cultures, & People" course. I rushed to get my belongings for the next week packed, and after finishing my AP US exam around 2pm, our group hopped on the big black and rainbow bus, driven by our buddy Watid. Then, we headed south.

A few hours after the sun went down, we were still driving...until the road we were on turned into a dirt road. Then a rocky double-track. Then...well...I'm still not sure if Watid was driving on any kind of civilized path or not. In any case, we finally arrived at a quaint little spot near the city of Deminah, known to the locals as Memshit (Memphis, in English). The irony is great: I came 6000 miles from home only to arrive in Memphis again. Oh well.

Memshit is the site of an ancient Nabithiyan city, as well as being the home to a large group of camels and the Bedouin men and women that tend to the needs of the camels. This is where we stayed, in the Bedouin Tent. The establishment reminded me a lot of a small circus: a few large tents with a central tent and bathrooms around. The tent that would be my home for the evening was in the far eastern corner of the encampment, providing me with a view of the hill rising up in front of the tent, on which the ancient city of Memphis used to be, and also a spectacular view of a group of Bedouin women sitting around fires making authentic laffa bread. Laffa is a type of pita, but larger and handmade. After going down to film the making of the bread, I struck up some conversation with the women, although their native tongue was Arabic and mine English---thankfully, we all knew about the same amount of Hebrew as each other, so conversing was relatively easy. I'm getting good at this Hebrew speaking stuff.

Suddenly, the women began to speak rapidly in Arabic, then dropped their bread and frantically tried to cover their heads. After a good minute or so of confusion, one woman explained to me that her and her comrades had simply forgotten to cover their faces, and I could only portray them as such on film. I was horrified and apologized extensively, while the old ladies laughed at my pitiful, apologetic, concerned manner.

For dinner, we joined another 50 or so kids from all over the world, most on the Birthright program, and all of us sat on the floor of the ochel haochel--the food tent. Each group of four people got a huge tray with laffa bread, salads, traditional Arab and Middle Eastern cuisine, along with a delicious rice, meat, and chicken dish. The meal hit the spot for me, considering I love this kind of food, and just when I thought my night couldn't get any better...

We went back to our tent only to find a Bedouin man with an instrument somewhat like a guitar ("but much better", according to him) playing for us while another two Bedouins made and served some of the most delicious tea I've ever had. To top it all off, we were served baklava and Bedouin coffee.

Pause. Allow me to explain the coffee-making tradition of the Bedouins and Arabs of the world, that I've somewhat adopted. In teh middle of the desert, the Bedouins will take coffee beans, grind them by hand to the desired size and thickness, then boil the grounds in a small finjan, much like my Turkish coffee making. The process takes about 15-20 minutes altogether, and serves three small shot-glass-sized servings. The coffee is quite possibly the best I've ever had...so pure and good. The ceremony also follows that there are three cups served, and that no one is turned away by the Bedouins for coffee. I highly recommend going to the Negev Desert, if nothing else, then for the Bedouin hospitality.

The next morning, after a night of partying and having all kinds of fun in a drum circle/bellydance/party tent next door, I was presented with the experience of a lifetime: to ride a camel!

Camels are disgusting, ugly, smelly, spitty creatures that are inherently grumpy. And we put saddles and harnesses on their humps and jumped up, assisted by the Bedouin handlers. Then came an hour or so of pain and discomfort, all the time preoccupied with not falling off the damn animal. We checked out the ruins of a huge Nabythian city, and then turned our faithful steeds around (well...they kind of did whatever the hell they wanted and we hung on for dear life) and headed back to camp just in time to catch the first rain of the year (yoreh, in Hebrew) and say goodbye to two more of our chaverim, who chose to go home due to other obligations.

Our Bedouin experience over and done with, we travelled down, down, down, below sea level, past the Dead Sea, all the way into the middle of the Arava Desert and stopped finally at Kibbutz Yahel. For those taking notes, you'll notice that we had Rosh Hashanah morning services at Yahel, but it's not that important.

Yahel was started in the 70's by graduates of NFTY programs that made Aliyah to Israel and decided to settle together in one of the harshest environments in the world, the Arava Desert. Nestled between the Eilat Mtns on the east and the Edom Mtns of Jordan on the west, Yahel is beautiful in its own way, with its few trees struggling to stay alive and sandy, dusty ground. In the past year, the Kibbutz has only seen 2 millimeters of rain, so we came to a particularly dry kibbutz.

Our first activity here was to go to their palmello fields. Yahel grows dates, citrus fruits, and provides most of Israel and Europe with various exotic fruits. The palmello is a citrus fruit somewhat akin to a grapefruit, but infinitely better. The unique thing about the palmello fields at Yahel is that they sit 5 meters from the Jordanian border.

"Whatever you do, don't step on the asphalt--the IDF will come in with the attack choppers," were the first words we heard from our guide, Ron. Not sure if he was kidding or not...but I didn't nevertheless. After learning how to really peel and eat a palmello, Ron told us of his experiences picking palmellos for some 25 years. There is a small fence, then a 25 meter no-mans-land, and another fence. This marks the border of Jordan and Israel. It is a peaceful border, and has been since the mid-90's, when the peace treaty between the two was signed in Eilat.

One day, he said, the IDF patrol found footprints that went from the Jordanian side of the border across into the palmello fields, then back over to the Jordanian side. Baffled, the soldiers told the kibbutzniks that their lives were in danger. Ron, however, reasoned it out: "If you were a Jordanian soldier patrolling the desert road in the middle of July, and saw a huge palmello grove, what would YOU do?" he said to the IDF.

Now, years later, Ron fills a crate with palmellos every few days and places it right on the fence so the Jordanian soldiers can eat of the palmello without getting in trouble. He has a completely different vision of peace in the Middle East. One night, a high-up in the Jordanian gov't came to the kibbutz and had dinner with Ron and his family. There they were, two families, one Jordanian and one Israeli, both playing, singing, drinking, and laughing together. This, Ron said, was his peace in the Middle East. It gives me some hope for peace...someday.

We also had Shabbat services at Yahel and spent our Friday and Saturday there, going into Eilat for a few hours Saturday night to shop on the Tayellet, which is the promenade on the shore of the Red Sea. If you look in Bereshit (Genesis) in the Bible, find the story of the parting of the Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to pass. Well, I was standing on the shores of the same sea that my ancestors did and sang songs of praise for allowing them into the Promised Land. It was a really cool experience, and I got a few pairs of fisherman pants and some Egyptian cotton shirts. They're soooooo comfy.

After some partying with the kibbutz kids (who are inherently sketchy, no matter which kibbutz they live on in this country), we enjoyed our last night of civilized living, and then woke up Sunday morning and met up with Ayellet and Roi, our guides for the upcoming week. They are from Tzukim Travel, and would keep us alive in the Negev for the next few days.

Our first hike began right away on Sunday, and would serve as a "warm-up" hike. After driving to Nowhere, we took a left, and found ourselves in the Middle of Nowhere. It's a very barren place. The desert is amazing: it is harsh, barren, lifeless, yet at the same time a vibrant, beautiful place.

With the food supplies divvied up between the 25 of us, along with 3 liters of water (a must in the desert!) and my personal Turkish coffee kit, our group began our hike at the Amram campground and hopped onto the Shvil Yisrael, a trail running the length of the country from north to south. We followed the Shvil all the way UP, and UP, and UP, and then finally over the top of Har Amir, (Side note: Har is Hebrew for Mtn.) putting us 443 meters above sea level. The ground was slippery, and even the most stable-looking rocks would move of their own accord as soon as one put their foot down. Our only solace was to aim for the pass between two rocks in the distance, one a turtle shape and the other, to my utter delight (ha-ha, not!) in the exact form of a camel. The weather was rather nice, being in the mid- to upper-70's in the shade and a steady 80 in the sunlight. Reaching the peak, we went over the pass and found ourselves on a huge plateau of rock exposed to harsh winds, with a beautiful view of the Red Sea in the distance and Eilat in the foreground.

From here, we kept hiking through a wadi (Arabic for nachal, which is Hebrew for riverbed) and, after seeing a few scattered acacea trees, the only trees able to survive in the harsh climate, we descended into the Canyon Shechoret--the Black Canyon. This canyon is so named because it is made out of plutonian rocks that are very dark in color. The mountain above the canyon, Har Shechoret, is actually divided by a massive fault line that dates back to 500 million years ago, when a shift of tectonic plates forced the limestone layers hundreds of meters higher, creating this line running from the middle of the ridge all the way across the Eilat Mtns. In a few days, we would be able to see this line closer up. We learned about floods in the desert, and saw a few pictures from Ayellet's adventures in said floods. We also prayed for rain to wait until we left the canyon, and it did, as we emerged several hours later, finishing our hike at the night camp site. Our "warm-up" hike had taken around 6 hours and traversed roughly 6km.

That night, we had some of the best soup on earth and some good vittles prepared by Roi and Ayellet, with the help of us chillins. In the shadow of mountains on either side of us, and camped in a wadi, the wind made it a cold and bitter night, but I said "the hell with it" and chose to sleep outside and enjoy the stars. Going to bed post-campfire and smores, I had an uneasy night ahead...not helped by the extra night guard NFTY hired to guard us. This guy we fondly referred to as Sketchy McSketch Sketch. He was one of the wierdest adults I've ever met, and my first impression of him was his lighting of a cigarette using a huge burning log from the campfire...almost lost his goatee, too.

The morning came early, with the sun not up yet, and us being cold as anything. The wind had died now, but don't let that fool you: it was DAMN cold, probably somewhere in the low 30's. Some tea and biscuits (Israeli tea crackers) helped with that, and after breakfast we set out for our next day's hike.

In true Tzukim tradition, just like during Yam L'Yam, the second day hike was the hardest. Around 8km long, with two peak ascents, and by no means any moderately easy trail, this hike would be a test for our entire group. Without any warmup flat land, we began acending the first peak, Har Yehoram. On our right side, we could see a small white building with a radio tower beside it. On questioning Ayellet, she replied, "Oh, that's an Egyptian army post."

We were within peeing distance of Egypt's Sinai Peninsula. This was an interesting revelation, but Israel and Egypt are at peace with each other, so no worries. Still, the remains of IDF outposts were evident in the hills, and marks from the 1967 Six Day War were still abound...we didn't go slow by any means.

Halfway up the mountain, Ayellet told us about the sex lives of porcupines and leopards. Atop Har Yehoram, we heard a story about two soldiers that died during IDF training in the desert, one due to dehydration and the other due to heatstroke. This lesson served to show us how imporant it is to conserve water and be smart when in the desert. Looking up, I could see the first two false summits of Har Shlomo, and the rails and ladders used to get to the top.

This looked to be one hell of a climb. And it was.

At one point, we walked across a line, crossing from limestone to plutonian rock. Ayellet: "we just crossed 500 million years of geologic history." And we kept walking...I mean, it's only 500 million years, no biggie. OH! I got to pee off a cliff onto the rift, so basically I was peeing on the geological history of earth. It's my way of helping the desert bloom, like it says in the Torah.

At the very top of Har Shlomo, we arrived in time to stand on the tiny summit and listen to "The Circle of Life" playing on Ayellet's iPod speakers. The moment was priceless, and the view was even better, allowing a full 360 degree panorama of Jordan and its Edom Mtns, the Arava Desert, Dead Sea, Eilat and Akaaba (Jordan), the Red Sea with Saudia Arabia in the distance, and Egypt to the west. Supposedly, one could see Beer-Sheva on a clear day, but there are no clear days in Israel, so this wasn't the case. The moment had a damper put on it after a bit, though, when I realized that I had tripped and hit the record button twice on my camera, so that none of the summiting and Lion-King stuff was caught on tape. Kind of like a "I found the most beautiful girl in the world, and forgot to bring the camera." It sucked. But, moments are great, and that was a good one, even if it won't necessarily make it into the film.

A group of Deitot (Orthodox girls) had followed us to the summit, so we proceeded onward to make space, but not before I caught some looks from a few of the girls...yeah, those Orthodox girls dig me. Just kidding, I'm pretty sure that's some kind of sin. In any case, we did continue onward, down into Nachal Shlomo. This was an interesting hike, with hardly any trail visible--only rocks and a sharp downslope. Ayellet guided us down, picking her line carefully but deftly. Myself, I just put my feet on rocks that looked stable and let my butt take the beating. This took us a good few hours, and then we came to the hard part: a section requiring use of cables and ladders that had been built into the rocks in order to manuever on the rocks with any semblance of safety. At the bottom of a particularly steep "waterfall", a rock formation formed by the occasional violent flash floods that havoc the nachals, we stopped and took a breather to have lunch. I made some good Turkish coffee, and had a sandwich, and then it was time to go again.

We continued, and the trail only became harder. Soon, we couldn't progress 20 meters without having to sit down and slide or jump from rock to rock on another dangerous formation. At one point, we came to a vertical 10 meter drop. Barely visible on the left-hand side were steel rungs placed in the rock by trailbuilders that allowed us to get down. This was the tune of our hiking until we reached the bottom of the nachal and were in a plain for a bit. In the plain, we sat down in a circle and Ayellet asked us to talk about where we would like to be in some-odd years from today. My turn came, and I was asked where I would be in 21 years. My answer: "Almost 40 years old, not living with my parents anymore, and doing what I love to do with a good income." We hiked onward, and finally the bus came into sight, taking us to our next night campsite. I slept on the ground again, and this time I was much warmer and had a wonderful view of the stars. The camel ranch down the road provided some nice music and smells as well. That was a good night's sleep.

Tuesday morning came even earlier, with the sun rising just as we packed up the tents and got onto the bus for our next hike. We went back to where our previous day's hike had started and began hiking on the Shvil Yisrael. The hike for this day wasn't particularly exciting except for the fact that we were a mere 50 meters from one of the markers (#89 of 91) that mark the border with Egypt. Climbing Har Yoash, with its slippery, soft rock, our group took a picture on a mesa overlooking the Red Sea and Sinai. On the way down, we had to use some more cable and ladder skills, and even though this hike wasn't near as tough as the day before, it still took a toll on my knees and butt. After several hours, though, we came to a spot where the real fun would take place: snappeling.

Snappeling is the Israeli version of rapelling, and the 80 meter high rock face we sat at the foot of would be our snappeling site. To tell the truth, I've climbed and rapelled on much tougher and more exciting sites, but this one was in Israel, so it is inherently special. While we did our monkey business on the rocks, a group of Bedouins were setting up for a bar mitzvah party in the plain below. As we ate lunch in the shade of a sand dune an hour later, a convoy of 4x4 Land Rovers with lots of people in them came by, including the bar mitzvah boy. Turns out they came all the way from Jersey to have this shindig. Kind of a neat sight, coming across other Jews in the middle of the desert.

Now, all this hiking got me wondering: Is this how the Israelites lived for 40 years, wondering around in the desert? If it is, no wonder they were so grumpy and difficult to manage. Moses should have just given up and asked for directions.

As a reward for finishing this particular hike, we got on the bus and were allowed a few hours of free time on the Tayellet in Eilat, just as the sun was setting over the sea. That sunset rates around a 9.932345 on my 1-10 scale of sunsets. Absolutely gorgeous. I picked up another few Egyptian cotton shirts and another pair of fisherman pants, and was oh so comfy. The shop owners kind of looked at me funny when I came in, most likely due to the fact that I hadn't had a shower in so long, and that I looked like I should be going to rob the nearest Seven-Eleven with my aviator sunglasses and dusty self.

We had to leave early due to the threat of rain (haha, funny, rain in the desert) and moved our campsite to a field school near the shore for our last night of roughing it. That night, I was able to sit by the fire, look up at the stars, and even serve on guard duty, since Mr. Sketchy decided not to show up for his job. It was a good night, although I began thinking about the impending plane ride back to the States...depressing as hell.

The last hike of our Negev experience was a very fun one, although only about two-thirds of us went on it, due to our group being always injured in one way or another. The hike went up and over Har Tzefachot, and just before the summit (after hearing more about the sex lives of more desert animals, like the porcupine and cheetah, who mate at least 8 times every night, all year long. Then, 10 or so meters from the top of the mountain, Ayellet told us to look down and only look up when she said so. We did such, and at the top, I had to catch my breath. Aside from the wind gusts trying to blow us off the mountain, I was looking at one of the best views of Eilat and its coral reef in the world. With the trail snaking away below to the shore, we had a few minutes of Zen to appreciate the view and what we had come to do. Far in the distance, I could see Har Amir and Shechoret, at a distance of 20 or so kilometers from our present position. The sheer magnitude of our finished hike was amazing itself, and just thinking about how we had conquered the desert was even more amazing.

We were supposed to go snorkelling on the reef in Eilat, but the cloudcover, chilly water temperature, and threat of rain weren't condusive to snorkelling, so we headed back to Tzuba a few hours earlier than scheduled Wednesday afternoon. On the way back, even though I was half-dead from the hike, I woke up a few times to see great sights:

A massive double rainbow over the Dead Sea.

Flash floods in the Judean Desert, including one car stranded in water up to its windows from water crossing the road.




Snow in Jerusalem.

That's right, we arrived in Jerusalem in time to witness a phenomena that only happens every four years or so. People were scurrying everywhere trying to figure out what to do and how to act. Cars were backed up on the freeway and parked in the streets so that people could get out of their cars and hold the falling snow. Some little Charedi kids threw snowballs at our bus. It was the most beautiful sight I've seen of Jerusalem, covered in white.

Some two hours later, we arrived at Tzuba after our hellish commute, playing in the snow which was now almost half a foot deep. That night, we went to bed while the snow still fell.

Thursday, we went on a tiyul to Yad L'Kashish, a place in Jerusalem that employs the elderly so that they won't be hungry or poor. They make really beautiful crafts there, all handmade by the elderly workers. I spoke with a few of them--in Hebrew--and they were very happy to be working there, and also very proud of their work. At the end of the tour, we were able to buy things, including talitot, metalworking, weaving, and woodworks. In the very back, I found the most beautiful talit in the world, complete with the Old City on the top and the Kotel on each of the four corners, all in gold and blue embroidery on a white background. I'm hoping to buy it once I get back to the States, since the lady offered to hold it and I could buy it online when I got the money.

That afternoon, I planted a tree in Modi'in. Nine out of ten trees in Israel were planted by people like me, and I want to do my part in making Eretz Yisrael bloom, as well as leaving my mark on the land. Hopefully I'll be able to come back years from now and point to a tree outside Modi'in and say "That's my legacy to this place."

Friday (yesterday morning), we went on another tiyul to Mt. Herzl, the military and national cemetery of Israel. There, we saw the graves of all the great leaders and minds of the Jewish People. I also did something I've been waiting for since Poland.

In Auschwitz, near the ponds with the ashes in them, one can still find shards of bone that were left over from the crematoriums not doing their complete job. I found a large piece, about the size of my little toe, and put in a ziploc bag to bring back to Israel with me. Underneath a tree overlooking teh Judean Hills on Mt. Herzl, I covered the bone shard in soft dirt, patted it down, and said in a soft voice, "Welcome home."

Shortly after, we went to a monument called Megilat HaEsh, the Pillars of Fire. Built by a man named Natan Rapoport, who was a survivor of the Warsaw Ghetto and happens to be family of my grandmother. It documents, in bronze, the plight of the Jewish People, from the Holocaust to the State of Israel. The fact that someone from my family survived the lowest point in the history of the Jews to come to Israel and be such an inspiration amazes me and makes me proud not only of who I am, but of who I have become.

Last night was our last Shabbat evening as a group, and right now our last Shabbat is wearing down. I have to be completely packed in about 20 minutes, and then I'll find out how grossly overweight my bags are and how much Delta and the other airlines are going to make me pay. It's quite sad that I can fit my entire life into two suitcases.

That's all for now, we're going to a mall tonight. Expect some major contemplation in the next day or so.

Shabbat Shalom and Shavua Tov,

--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Finished!!! And Now Into the Desert I Go!

So this afternoon I finished my last exam of the semester. It's over academically. Whew.

Test on 4000 years of Jewish History, AP US History, Physics, AP English Lit, and PreCal...all kinds of fun.

Now, we're about to get on the bus and head South, all the way into the Negev Desert. We're spending tonight at a Bedouin tent, and the weekend we'll be spending at Kibbutz Yahel in the Arava Desert. Then, it's off to the wilderness!

We're going to be hiking through the Negev, all the way to Eilat at the southern-most point of Israel, where land touches the Red Sea.

You know, the Red Sea that Moses parted to allow the Israelites to escape the Egyptians. Yeah, same one.

Not sure when I'll be able to blog again, but for now, I'll just say that I'm glad school's over, and that I'm ready for one hell of a hike. I'll get to test out my Turkish coffee skills too...I'll accept requests for making some when I return.

In any case, it's time to go get on the bus. Happy Chanukah and Shabbat Shalom in advance!

-Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com

Friday, December 15, 2006

Oh Chanukah Oh Chanukah...

Chag Sameach, Kulam!!!

Happy holidays, everyone!!!

This week has been really rough, but really rewarding as well. So, since I know everyone's been waiting by their computer screens breathlessly since my last post, I'll give you the breakdown of recent events in a somewhat different format than I've been doing.


Monday, we went for a walk around our lovely Kibbutz Tzuba with Reuven, uncovering in the process the wall of an ancient city from biblical times that was centered around the Crusader castle sitting up on the Tel, Mt. Tzuba. We crawled through a tunnel, 5 meters underground and 40 meters long, that led to a huge cistern fed from a natural spring in the rock that was the lifeblood of Tzuba prior to the municipality water system. And let me tell you that after drinking that water, I'm still trying to figure out why the kibbutz wouldn't just use that delicious natural water...it's so much better without any artificial additives. Later that day, it was back to classes as usual.

Tuesday morning, we held a mock Knesset meeting. This governing body is the center of Israel's law system, and is a sort of parliamentary system, with nearly 40 parties representing all different interests. Our job as students was to look up and represent one of six parties, ranging from far left wing (Labor/Likud) to far right wing (Ehud Leumi). There are even three Arab parties in the Knesset, but weren't assigned to us. That morning, we had to get up and state our party's platform, defend it, and at the end we took a vote to see who won. Unfortunately, even as spokesman for the Ehud Leumi Party, which is far far right wing conservative, I wasn't able to muster the votes to win...but their platform kind of sucks, so that might be part of it. Some very interesting issues came up, and I was able to see into yet another facet of Israeli society and actively participate in it. Very cool stuff. The Kadima and Likud parties, led by Netanyahu and Olmert (Israel's current PM), were the two winning parties and formed a coalition. The rest of us, well...we tried.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006:

Our last Jewish History Class. And at the same time, the biggest threat to the Jewish people and Israel in thousands of years raises its ugly head. A conference was called for in Tehran, the capital of Iran, led by the Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. The purpose?

To question and examine as to whether the Holocaust actually occurred.

I should apologize, but my blatant opinion is about to raise its ugly head in response.

This "conference" is a disgrace to not only the Jewish people (5 Satmar Rabbis from Britain, France, and America were invited) but to the entire world (former KKK leader David Duke was also invited). According to official press releases (source: jpost.com), the Iranian president was "hosting 67 participants from 30 countries at a conference debating whether the World War II genocide of 6 million Jews took place."

Again, I say that this is a disgrace to all of humanity. After going to Auschwitz and seeing the destruction machines, seeing the killing machines used there, after keeping a sliver of bone in my backpack to bury in the land of Israel, after not finding one single openly worshipping Jew left in all of Poland, this is the kind of bullsh*t that I cannot and will not tolerate.

The Iranian excuse is that they merely want to look at "scientific evidence" in order to determine if the entire story of the Holocaust is true. In reality, they want to deny it completely, and with any kind of proof to wave around will be able to de-legitimize the State of Israel as a home and refuge for Jews, ultimately allowing them to wipe Israel off the map. Just as the Arab and anti-Jew, anti-Zionist supporters of the world have been trying to do since May 15, 1948, when the state was established. The fact that JEWS--RABBIS--would even go to such a conference is enough to make one spit into the wind. These rabbis represent a less-than 10% minority of all Jews that do not recognize the state of Israel and are vehemently anti-Zionist (if the State exists, the Moshiach cannot come, according to them).

To put a cherry on the collective top of all this, Iran is at this very moment enriching uranium for use in its brand-new, French-built nuclear facilities. By 2010, and maybe sooner, Iran will possess nuclear weapons. The President, Ahmadinejad, flat out told press that "Just like the Soviet Union, the State of Israel will fall." Many in Israel are speculating, and intelligence backs this up, that Iran is planning to use its newfound nuclear capabilities in order to carry out its Final Solution: turning Israel into a wasteland, devoid of Jews.

The United States has said that it cannot guarantee that in the event of Iran making an aggressive move of any sort, that Israel will be able to turn to the US for aid. Furthermore, the US has said that any pre-emptive strikes on Iran will be condemned and threaten US-Israel relations.

The issue of Iran, its holocaust denial, and its nuclear plans--this issue is the foremost issue of the Jewish people in the modern period. Many American Jews aren't even aware of this, but it goes on. Living in Israel, we hear first-hand what's going on, and see that this issue is almost as dire as that of the impending Holocaust pre-WWII.

Something must be done. Educate, Advocate, and make yourself heard. I sure as hell will be until the world responds in the way that it should--in the way a humane world should.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Moving on, and pardon my political rant, it had to get out somehow...

After an uneventful Thursday, we've arrived at Friday--today.

This morning, I took my ivrit mivchan hagadol (big Hebrew test). That's right, my course of study in the Hebrew language has come to an end. Another four months and I would be fluent...alas, though, plane tickets are already booked. I really love our teacher, and the language is beautiful. The good thing is, I'm able to continue studying back in teh States via correspondence with my teachers here. And when I come back one day, I'll be one fluent Hebrew-speaker. Sounds like a plan to me.

Later on, we watched as most of our chaverim (friends) left for the weekend, leaving only 10 of us to stick it out on the kibbutz. So again, I'll be reading Torah tomorrow (whoo!). This may be a quiet weekend, full of sleep and study. I could use one of those.

Tonight is special, though. Why is this Shabbat different from all other Shabbats? Well, because tonight is the first night of Chanukah!!! We went to a small Kehilah (community) in Modi'in for T'fillah tonight, and had a few sufganiyot (jelly donuts!) to celebrate as we lit the first candle. The kibbutz lights one light atop the grain silo every night, corresponding to hte nights of Chanukah. This holiday makes everyone happy, and I see it working for me already.

Even though I've got all my exams coming up Monday through Thursday, everything is Sabbaba right now. It's all cool. I'm full of sufganiyot, I've got Hebrew off my shoulders, and tomorrow night we're having a party with our Israeli friends from Beit Shemesh for Chanukah.

Everyone can expect one more update prior to the Negev hike, and for now I'd like to wish myself a big B'Hatzlacha (good luck!). If you'd like to contact me, e-mails only now, please, letters will arrive too late.

Shabbat Shalom & Chag Sameach,
--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com

Thursday, December 07, 2006

The Golan Heights, Lebanon, Syria, and A Long and Winding Road (Winding Down, That Is)

I'm sure everyone will be glad to hear that I have fully recovered from my ordeal last Shabbat in Beit Shemesh. After speaking with the Madrichim and doing dome thinking of my own, I was able to sort out what I should keep and throw out as far as understanding and learning something from the situation. Saturday morning, I woke up, went to breakfast, and although reluctantly (thanks to Ray for convincing me), I went to T'Fillah. At the beginning of the service, I went into my pocket to get my kippa, and found myself hesitating to put it on. After a short pause, I put my kippa on, and it was far more noticeable then than it had ever been on my head. By the end of the service, however, I was singing and having one hell of a time, and decided that the "religious" putzes that jumped me can shove their opinions up...err...in Heaven.

Sunday, we left Tzuba once again for our two-day Security and Borders Tiyul. Leaving Jerusalem and heading towards Tel Aviv on Highway 1, our bus turned onto the high-tech toll road Highway 6 and headed due north. At one point along this gorgeous stretch of road, one sees fields all the way to the ocean on the left-hand side. Looking to the right, a view is presented of the Arab city of Tulkarem and the numerous villages surrounding it, all sitting in the territory known to most of the world as the West Bank. On November 29, 1947, (Kaf-Tet B'November) the UN General Assembly approved the UN Partition Plan of the Middle East. This plan laid out a map of the area, giving part to the Arabs living there, and giving the other part to be established as a Jewish state, the future Israel. On May 15, 1948, Israel declared its' independence as a nation among all other nations, and no later than 12 hours later the armed forces of the entire Arab world descended on the small, infant Israel. Against all odds, the Israeli forces fought and won, not only defending their own territory but gaining more than the UN had previously alotted. The war ended, and Israel's borders were set according to what is known as the Green Line, an imaginary line that separates the Arab territory from Israel. Until 1967, Jerusalem was a divided city, with Jews unable to go into the Old City to pray at the Western Wall. In 1967, with Arab forces massing on her borders, Israel launched a preemptive strike, and after the war gained even more territory--namely control of the Gaza Strip, West Bank, Golan Heights, and continuing control over the Sinai Peninsula and Suez Canal (captured in 1956 Sinai Campaign). This is the modern state of Israel's borders, minus the Sinai Peninsula (given back in exchange for peace with Egypt), and is the source of much controversy today.

Our first stop was in Barta'a, near the city of Umm El-Fakhm, inside the West Bank. A few years ago, we would have been shot at by snipers while driving through the town, but the area is now safe for travel, thanks to the focus of our stopping: the Israeli Security Barrier. After the Disengagment of the Gaza Strip in the summer of 2005, in which 9,000 Israeli settlers were evacuated in 4 days from the area in order to enhance Arab-Israeli relations, Israel saw no positive results. The Disengagement was a last-ditch attempt to stop the 2nd Intifada, which began in 2000 and, for all intensive purposes, continues to this day. At its height in 2003 and 2004, one Palestinian would come into an Israeli city, settlement, kibbutz, bus station, train, or any public place, and commit an act of terror--ranging from shootings, stabbings, killing of infants and children, all the way to the infamous suicide bombings. Every day on the radio, Israelis heard about the daily death toll after some Palestinian strapped explosives to himself and walked to his target. The country lived in fear (and still does) constantly.

To combat this, a huge project was put into effect: to build a physical barrier to prevent Palestinians from getting into Israel to commit acts of terror. At present, there is a chain-link fence running the length of the Green Line, and in some places a concrete barrier system has been erected if necessary. In Jerusalem and along the highways, the concrete barrier is in place to prevent snipers from shooting cars and civilians, but only 3% of the entire barrier is made of concrete. For a Palestinian to come into Israel, they must first get through a checkpoint where IDF soldiers determine whether their motives are good or not. In one instance, a pregnant woman was rushed to the hospital, and upon arriving at the checkpoint, the IDF found explosives strapped to the seats of the ambulance. Since the implementation of the barrier, terror has seen as more than 70% decrease. For those that would like to argue about the humanitarian aspects and the effects on the Palestinians, the sentiment in Israel is that any inconvenience justifies preventing terrorism from happening on a daily basis. The security barrier is one of the reasons I was able to come live in Israel, and I have no objections to it.

After this, we continued north for a few hours until we came to an IDF outpost about 20 minutes from Kiryat Shmoneh, a city in the news a great deal this past summer because of its involvement in the Lebanese War. From here, we could throw a rock and hit a Lebanese house. The border was under our noses, as were the craters and burned-out patches of mountainside from Ketyusha rockets hitting this summer. Here, we spoke of the 1st Lebanon War, which lasted from 1982 to 2000, and was largely controlled by Hizbullah, the terrorist organization that took hold of the country at the end of the 70's. Many thought that this was to be the only Lebanon War, but in August of this past year (2006), an Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit, was kidnapped from his post and taken captive. Two other soldiers were captured as well, and all intelligence showed them being in the hands of Hizbullah. Israel has an official policy of "no soldier left behind", and this applies in all situations. An elite force was sent into Lebanon to attempt to rescue the captive soldiers, but to no avail. Soon thereafter, with rockets flying over the Naphtali Ridge and hitting all of Northern Israel from Kiryat Shmoneh to Haifa, the IDF and IAF worked together in what we now know as the 2nd Lebanon War, bombing all of Beirut and Lebanon to insure that the soldiers wouldn't be transported somewhere else where rescue would be impossible.

Deaths tolls on each side were numerous, but the Lebanese toll was far worse because of the destruction of infrastructure and property. At one point, the Lebanese President was seen on TV begging Israel, with tears on his face, to stop the barrage. Ill-prepared and with public opinion against them, the IDF pulled out of Lebanon exactly one month later, on August 14th (two weeks before I left). None of the soldiers have been returned yet, but the border is relatively quiet and hope remains that this will stay stable for a while. At present, a negotiation is being made for the release of Gilad Shalit--if he is returned alive, Israel will release 1000 Palestinian prisoners. This is how serious Israel is about getting their soldiers back.

We had a nice picnic-style lunch overlooking the Hula Valley, still a mere 50 meters from the Lebanese border, and I thought on how such a beautiful nof ("view") could be the cause and place of so much death and destruction.

From here, we had another long-ish bus ride to Tel Dan. On the way, we drove through Kiryat Shmoneh and other towns that were hit hard this summer by the war. Signs were still abundant of the destruction of the Ketyushas, including hundreds of burned patches on the side of the Naphtali Ridge overlooking the towns, as well as houses still in shambles and plots deserted. Groves of trees near the center of town were half-burnt down. But, as in all places in Israel, no matter what happens, life goes on. The citizens have returned and were rebuilding, and most of the damage was masked by the beautiful new developements built, with the red roofs and white stone.

On to Tel Dan, the northern-most nature reserve in the pre-67 borders of Israel. Here, we saw the root of one of the main reasons for violence in this region: water. The Jordan River runs along Israel's Eastern border, and is the main source of water for Israel and Jordan. During many of the various wars, most notably the Yom Kippur War in 1973, the countries north (Syria, Lebanon) would attempt to block the water source, essentially drying up the country. There are three rivers that run into the Jordan River, and one of those is the Dan. The blocking of water never succeeded, but is still a threat today to Israel's existence. Without water, her most important asset, Israel would perish.

At Tel Dan, as well as seeing a gushing, rushing river, we saw a rather shocking sight. On the tel sits an ancient Israelite city, founded by the 10 tribes that split in the time of the First Temple. In 920 BCE, the 12 Tribes of Israel split into North and South, with the 10 tribes of Israel in the north and the tribes of Judah in the south. The tribes of Judah conquered the Israelites in 722 BCE, erasing any history the northern kingdom has established. Well, this is the history that we saw.

In the northern kingdom, specifically here at Tel Dan, there existed a large walled city rivalling early Jerusalem. The biggest discovery was that of a Temple, and this also rivalled the Temple in Jerusalem. Not only do these exist, but they are backed up by quotes from the Tanakh (Bible). Basically, this shows that there existed a thriving Jewish presence in the northern kingdom, and that the southern tribes may have conquered them out of fear and competition. This causes us to rethink many things, including the concept of "the winner writing history". This is the case, and many stories were altered by the Northern kingdom later in Second Temple times to be to their favor--most notably the story of the Golden Calf, which it turns out was placed in a temple in the Northern kingdom out of heroism, by a fellow named Jerobam. He was basically another Moses figure, but the Southern kingdom didn't like idols, so they altered the story to make him a bad guy.

After I collected some nice pottery to add to my collection, we went to what could possibly be the most spiritual place central to Jews in the land of Israel: kibbutz Naot Mordechai, where the famous Naot brand shoes are made. Basically, they are the Israeli Birkenstock, but better...because they're made in Israel. The kibbutz thrives off this market, and has virtually no agriculture that I am aware of. While everyone else went inside and bought entirely over-priced shoes, I sat on the lawn and watched the sun set over the Naphtali Ridge in a blaze of flame, while the moon rose in the other direction, settling right behind the flag of Israel.

From here, we headed up the slopes of Mt. Hermon, the highest point in Israel outside of the 1967 borders, since it sits in the Golan Heights, about 20 minutes from the Syrian border. There is a field school there, and this is where we settled down for the night. We watched an Israeli film that I highly recommend, "The Syrian Bride", that talks about another religion in this region--Druze. We'll talk more about the Druze later in this entry, but go get that movie. It's funny and gives an accurate representation of the tensions in the area. Walking along the path to my room, I found a spot to sit and enjoy the cold, windy view of the entire Hula Valley at night, filled with lights of kibbutzim and moshavim--and the lights of Lebanon not far away.

In the morning, we woke up and got right back on the bus, taking a drive along roads lined with eucalyptus trees (for protection from Syrian sniper fire), crossing the Jordan River (which used to be the border of Israel and Syria), and coming to a spot called Mitzpe Gadot, the Gadot lookout point. This used to be a Syrian outpost, overlooking the Hula Valley and many kibbutzim. We were now in the Golan Heights. Here in the Golan, there is evidence of 27 Beit Knesset (temples) and over 300 yeshuvim (settlements) from the Biblical Period, as well as biblical references. After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the British and French went back and forth over who occupied it, until Syria gained the rights to the land in the 1920's. Prior to this, four major attempts had been made by Jewish settlers to settle the Golan, all resulting in failure. The Golan Heights are so named because the area is a massive plateau, sitting 900 meters above sea level, which left the Syrians an open opportunity to wreak havoc on the Jews sitting in the valley below.

After the founding of the state of Israel in 1948, the lives of "Golani" settlers (Israelis living in the area) was, as an understatement, a living Hell. Day in and day out, they were shelled on, shot at, and raided by the Syrians. The eucalyptus trees were planted along roads to hide movements of cars and people. There are even accounts of Syrians coming into a kibbutz in the middle of the night and murdering two 4-year old boys while they slept, then leaving undetected. The lives of the settlers here cannot be described accurately, except for being a living Hell.

In 1967, Israel conquered the Golan Heights in the Six Day War, and took control of all those that didn't flee back to Syria--mainly a cooperative Druze population and a not-so-cooperative population of around 50,000 cows. To this day, the Golan remains Israeli land, and was annexed in 1981. However, Syria doesn't recognize this, so you can see where trouble might arise. The area we were in was a memorial to the soldiers that fell to capture and defend the Golan, and was surrounded by fences with odd red triangles on them. After reading the signs in Hebrew, we asked for a translation:

"DANGER: MINE FIELD"

Evidently, the Syrians knew they were losing, and planted hundreds of thousands of anti-personnel mines in the area to discourage Israelis from getting to it. We were told that every few days, a cow walks in and goes KABLOOEE, providing the settlers with hamburgers. That's why the fences are there. As the morning wore on, we drove further into the Golan, eventually reaching a spot known as Har Bental--Mt. Bental, which is an extinct-ish volcano (no one's sure if it's dormant of not) lying right on the Syrian border.

This mountaintop was one of the main outposts during the 1973 Yom Kippur War, when a line of 1000 Syrian tanks massed on the border and advanced on the Golan, capturing Mt Hermon. The few Israelis at Mt Bental were left with the task of defending with only 3 tanks at their disposal. The breakdown was something like 20 Israeli soldiers against several hundred Syrians. One story in particular stood out, that of Tsvika Greengold. This young man jumped into action, got his 3 tanks out onto the field, and fought for 36 hours straight, finally ending up in the only remaining functioning tank fighting off the Syrian tanks until reinforcements arrived. Thanks to him and others like him, the northern border held, and many speculate that if not for soldiers like Greengold, the state of Israel would have been completely demolished in the Yom Kippur War. The most impacting sight for me was seeing the border of Syria below us, with the ghost towns straddling the dark brown road, and looking into the crater of the former volcano only to find a Syrian tank left over from 1973 sitting there with its barrel pointed towards the border. This sentinel shows that eyes are always pointed to Syria to watch over the clear and present danger that lies along all of Israel's northern border.

You could imagine that exploring the bunkers and tunnels of a former volcano-turned-Israel-outpost would make some teenagers hungry, so we headed over to kibbutz Al Rom for pizza, and while there, saw a movie called Oz 77. This movie documented the experiences of many on the kibbutz and others that fought in the Yom Kippur War. For many, including the man that spoke to us before the movie, the war isn't very far in the past. He remembers the tanks advancing, and hearing the IDF on loudspeakers outside his house at 1pm (1 hours before the attack) ordering them to gather their belongings and load onto trucks to be evacuated south--unless they were reservists, in which case they were to report to the dining hall of the kibbutz to be given gear and a weapon. The war threatened not only lives but the existence of the country, and it was the bravery of a small number of young men that kept Israel alive.

From here, we had the opportunity to go for a hike along the Banyas River, another tributary of the Jordan River. The drive took us through the hills, past a huge Crusader fortress, over some cows--don't worry, the bovine roadblock was dispersed by a small Druze man with a stick. The north has got to be one of the most beautiful places in Israel, if not in the world. After hiking around and seeing some old flour mills, as well as a massive cave that used to be a huge Roman period temple. Above, on the cliff, the tomb of the Druze main prophet was perched overlooking the river. This was a nice relaxing little trek, especially since we orginially weren't going to have time to do such.

On our way back to Tzuba (the center of the Jewish world), we stopped near Haifa in Dalyat Al-Carmel, a Druze village situated right on top of Mt. Carmel. The lights of Haifa are night are beautiful--even the two nuclear reactors they have are lit with green and blue to fit in with the rest of the night skyline. In the village, we went to a host house and had authentic Druze food and learned about some of the religion. In the 11th century, the Druze were became an offshoot of Islam, and have been a closed religion since then. The only way to become a Druze is to be born to Druze parents, and one must marry Druze to stay Druze. This is also a "secret" religion, in which one decides his/her own path at age 15. If one chooses to become religious, they enter the secret part of the religion, whereas the others choose to stay secular. The food was amazing, and finding out about this religion was really neat, especially since the Druze fought beside the Israelis in each successive war--with the exception of the Golani Druze, who are still loyal to Syria.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After our meal, it was back to Tzuba, where we got our new room assignments for the remainder of the trip. Yay for front room to myself! I like my space, alright? Although I do find it somewhat sad that my entire life fits into 16 drawers and one suitcase...oh well.

Now the semester is winding down. We only have 3 weeks left, and finals are coming up next week. Friday morning, after finishing our 5767 years of Jewish History curriculum, we went to the homes of our Hebrew teachers for breakfast and kibbitzing (talking...sort of). This was fun, espcially since we made a music video for an Israeli songwriter's song as a special project.

Friday evening, we went to a really cool shul. Out of the 28 of us still here, all but 9 of us went out for the weekend. We went into Jerusalem and arrived at a house, then went up two stories--and lo and behold, there was a room full of Jews preparing for T'filah. There, we sang niguns (Chasidic tunes) and had a grand ole time, then came back to the kibbutz for a relatively quiet weekend. After watching the movie "Walk on Water", another good Israeli film, I took some quiet time and have begun preparing to make the final slideshow and video for our Final Banquet.

Last night (Saturday), we went to Shira's (our J. History teacher) house for dinner and more kibbitzing. Oh, almost forgot:

I read the first two portions of this week's Torah portion at Saturday morning T'fillah! Go me!

In any case, it seems as if everything we're now doing is preparing for the end. I really can't wait to get home, and to see everyone again. At the same time, I love this place and don't want to leave...but all good things must come to an end, as it is said. I'm coming to realize fully how amazing of an experience this is, and I'm committed to making these last 24 days the best they can be--I've been throwing up for the past 12 hours, and had to miss the tiyul to the Israel Supreme Court this morning, but I'm going to get un-sick-ified and make this the best damn three weeks ever.

Now, I'm off to make some tea and go to classes; hopefully my stomach will hold up and I can stay well for today. I'm becoming a bit sad just thinking about the end, but it's time to live in the present and make the most of it.

Our Hebrew final is on Friday, and the rest of our exams are next week. Chanukah starts Friday night, and I'm really looking forward to celebrating Chanukah in Israel. After exams, we're headed to the Negev Desert for a week-long hike across/through it, ending up at Eilat, the southern-most point in Israel, right on the Red Sea. I'll update again as soon as something blogworthy comes up, and other than that, keep in mind that I still love getting e-mails and mail.

Shavua Tov (Have a good week),
--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com

Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL

**Please be sure to mark all letters with, “AIRMAIL.”

Friday, December 01, 2006

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But Words Hurt the Most

Tonight was one of the greatest nights of my trip here in Israel. It was also one of--if not the--worst nights of my life.

After a very nice kosher Thanksgiving dinner on good old Turkey Day, we commenced a long week of hardcore learning. Our lessons covered all the wars Israel has fought from the 1948 War of Independence to the 1st Intifada (not a war, technically, but covers up to 1991). Also, I had two mivchanim (quizzes) in Hebrew, as well as some other academic catch-up to play with.

Tonight was a special night, though. For this Shabbat, our madrichim arranged for us to have T'fillah at Tzuba, and then travel to Beit Shemesh to have dinner with host families. These families ranged from secular Jews all the way to full-on Orthodox Jews, and our group of 28 (now down after another two participants leaving) was split up into pairs and singles. I was paired up with Tom, our Israeli madrich (counselor), and we went to the house of Omri and Itai for our Shabbat meal.

They own a nice apartment on the 4th floor of an apartment complex near the center of Beit Shemesh, and we were welcomed in with warmth. Tom put down his rifle (he also serves as security for us), I put down my camera bag and we were ushered to the dinner table. One thing about Israelis is that they don't just have dinner on Shabbat. They go all out. After saying Motzi and Kiddush (the blessings for bread and wine), the patriarch of the family tore up a half dozen loaves of bread, poured wine for all, and the food began flowing. First, there was tuna, bread, and salads. Then, soup and bread, more salads. After that, two separate dishes of chicken and potatoes, as well as shnitzel, accompanied by more salads. To top off the whole meal, we were served tea with nana (mint) and four different trays of nuts along with fruits of all kinds.

Over the course of the meal, which lasted a good two hours, Tom and I spoke with the family at length about all manner of things, which was fun with my somewhat limited Hebrew and their inability to understand and speak English. Thank G-d for Tom. They asked me about America, about Alabama, about American Jews, about Jews in general, about politics, about Jewish girls, about hobbies, about American Jewish girls vs. Israeli girls, and otehr important matters of international priority.

Sitting around the table afterward, there was a general attitude of "happy-camper"-ness. It was also quite cool that Omri took interest in my musical interests and revealed to me that he does similar hobbies as I do, including composing music. So I now have a CD of his, and we're hoping to see each other again on during Chanukah. Eventually, it was time to get back on the bus, so Tom and I said goodbye and thanks to the family, and they said they wanted me to come stay a weekend sometime, so who knows...Israelis are pretty cool.

As we walked to the bus, I noticed that everyone in Beit Shemesh under the age of 30 was walking around, generally just hanging out and having fun. That's another cool thing: it's perfectly legal and encouraged to loiter in public places until dawn on Friday evenings here. Anyway, back to the story.

About 10 meters from the back door to our bus, a young man said something in Hebrew about wearing kippot (head coverings), and I didn't really take note. A second or two later, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to find a young man in his late teen's, early 20's standing in front of me. He then asked me if I was getting on the bus. *Note: this entire discourse happened in Hebrew.* I of course replied 'Yes'. He asked, "with a kippa?" 'Yes.' And I continued walking.

At the door to the bus, he again turned me around. But this time, he began yelling at me, asking me how I can get on a bus while wearing a kippa, and that I was breaking the Sabbath. I replied that it's none of his business and that I'm okay with it.

"Atah ben zonah!" was the next thing I heard from his mouth as I was getting on the bus. Then, for the second time, he screamed at me, again calling me a "son of a whore" (Hebrew slang for "son-of-a-bitch"). I turned around and told him to go away. It appeared that he did.

Then he spit on me.

My calm state was gone. I screamed at him to leave, and he screamed right back at me. I screamed for him to go away, although in the least polite words possible, and he screamed again right back at me. Then he retreated again. I sighed.

A rock hit me in the shin.

About as large as my palm. Large enough to sting. And enough to see where it had come from. The same young man who I had been confronting for the past 5 minutes. I snapped. Any sap of calmness or restraint in me left. I screamed at him, and he spat again. I screamed for madrichim, while several of the other kids near me held me back from stepping off the bus. Finally, the bus driver closed the back door in their faces. The three men moved to the front door, and I paced their steps. Our madrichim told them to go away, and to leave us alone. They called them ugly and prostitutes. Before they left for the last time, they did something that I hadn't noticed before in the heat of the moment:

The man said that I wasn't a Jew.

Shaking, I finally sat down as the bus pulled away and took film of the three men to remember their faces. I was so angry that tears welled up in my eyes, and my fists refused to unclench. Shortly, Ariella and Tom both came up and spoke to me. They too had seen or been in situations like that, and tried to explain what had happened and why. The answer appalled me.

In Israel, there is a large rift. Not between Arabs and Jews, but between Jews and Jews. There are those Jews who slap on a kippah and consider themselves "religious", while others are content to fit into the "secular" category. These "religious" Jews evidently feel they have the right to tell all other Jews how to live their lives. By getting onto a bus wearing a kippah, I was breaking the Sabbath in their eyes. And that, in their eyes, was enough reason to curse, spit, and throw rocks. Tom compared them to Palestinians in the way they hate. They hate because of religious differences, and will pick a fight to be in a sort of Jihad, only of Jews vs. Jews. According to them, I was not a Jew. And they wanted to make it known.

This country has its share of problems. I know that much. People are killed everyday because of religious differences, Muslims and Jews, as well as Christians, all being murdered in the name of a G-d. I never thought, though, that I would have to experience the hate of one Jew to another Jew.

This reality check--severe reality check--not only put a damper on, but pretty much ruined, my evening. I had been so happy up to this point. And even now, almost two hours later, I can still hear, feel, and see it happening. "You are not a Jew".

At the moment, I'm not sure that I want to go to T'fillah tomorrow morning. I still have a lot of processing to do. I'm not questioning my Judaism by any means. And if nothing else, this event has actually strengthened my Jewish identity. For now, though, I just want to sit and think, and contemplate the state of things and why it is that in this world of ours, hate can infiltrate into every facet of humanity, right down to the level of brother vs. brother.

I could use some nice e-mails and letters, if anyone would be so inclined.

Shabbat Shalom,
--Aron

PS-my next update will be concerning this topic as well, since we're leaving Sunday to go up north to study the wars and effects on Israel of said wars/conflicts. Expect to hear from me again Tuesday or Wednesday. And start your countdowns, only one month left...*tear*

aronaltmark@aol.com

Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL

**Please be sure to mark all letters with, “AIRMAIL.”

Friday, November 17, 2006

Oh my Gad-na!

So, for those of you not following too closely, I had a mere 38 hours after returning home to Kibbutz Tzuba after visiting Poland (icky, icky place) before I was whisked off again to another experience. This one, however, was a bit more...involved, shall we say.

We travelled to Sde Boker, an Israeli Army base in the Northern Negev Desert, and after a pit stop to load up on shwarma in Beer-Sheva, proceeded to enroll ourselves in a 5-day course known as Gadna. No sooner had we stepped off the bus than we had about a dozen Israeli soldiers screaming at us in Hebrew to separate into groups and don the uniform of the Israeli Army...and thus begun our week of Hell.

There were no single days in this experience, just a blur of running, pushups, and lessons. Our mefakeddet (commander) decided that she liked to see a bunch of American kids sprint everywhere, so we did. A lot. If it took us 12 seconds to get one place, we had only 10 seconds going back. All kinds of fun, let me tell you. Every day we had several lessons dealing with all kinds of things from the basics of Tzahal (the IDF-Israeli Defense Force) to advanced weapons training to what it meant to be a Jew in a Jewish state. We took a 4-km hike in the middle of the desert, then played a game of military-style hide and go seek with camoflage. Also, our commanders gave us a test: two rocks were presented to us, and we were to tell which one was different. One of the rocks, our commander told us, could be found anywhere in the desert. The other rock, she calmly told us...




...was a grenade!!!!!!!!!!

This little game was hilarious for the officers, and we ended up playing it all day long. Our group would be waltzing along, and suddenly hear "Rimon smol!" (grenade on the left!) or "Rimon yamin!" (grenade on the right!), and we had three seconds to dive to the ground and cover ourselves. The consequences were either to not have children or to not have a head (and thusly not have children). Before someone calls the IDF to sue, don't worry. The grenades were never real. And in the end, the game was quite fun, minus an encounter with a yellow scorpion that shook a few of us up a bit.

The big perks of the Gadna experience for me were the fact that not only were we wearing the uniform of the Israeli Army, but we had just come back from Poland and experiencing the Holocaust. And now, we were preparing to fight for our country and for our beliefs---just as the original Zionists did to make the dream of a Jewish State come true. During the obstacle course, I set my tiredness aside, forgot the horrible sleeping conditions and poor hygeine we were under, and put all my energy into doing well. At one point, there was an 8-foot high wall to get over. This was done by getting a running start, jumping as high as possible, and flailing over the other side. The first two tries I think I was a little too enthusiastic, as I found myself on the other side of the wall, on the ground, without even having touched the top...my commander thought it was hilarious.

On the last day, we had the chance to fire 10 rounds from the M-16 A1, the assault rifle used by the Israeli and American armies. After three days of weapons training, I still wasn't too sure about the whole gun thing, since I'm not that into guns. Once I got to the firing range and shot, though, I could see that the guns we were using don't have to be just a method of destroying things---in fact, this country and much of the world wouldn't be around if not for guns. At a distance of 50 meters from a wind-blown paper target, I managed to fire one bullet practically dead center, and after watching the mefakdim (commanders) do a little celebration of another week of Gadna completed, we were ready to hang up our uniforms and go home. Getting back on the bus, I was a bit sad to have to go, but I'm fairly certain now that sometime in the future, the army will see me again as an Israeli citizen, and I too will have to serve my country just as the founders of Israel did.

After a long bus ride back to Tzuba, we had a few hours to sleep and then headed back out, this time to a complex of farms near Tel Aviv. Here, we picked palmellos (a citrus fruit, akin to a grapefruit) for a program called Table to Table. At the beginning of our stay in Israel, we picked onions for those that don't make enough money to buy bread in Israel. Well, the several hundred kilos of palmellos we picked went to the same people, hopefully making a difference in their lives for the better.

As if enough hadn't happened in the past two weeks, I received a call from my parents informing me that their plane was turned around over the Atlantic and they would be delayed in their coming to visit me. At long last, they arrived and proceeded to get horribly lost in the Judean Hills, and around 3AM that morning pulled up in front of the hotel here on Tzuba. We shmoozed for a bit, while they mused over how I'd grown and both laughed at my newly-grown beard. A few hours of sleep later, we went off to Tel Aviv to walk on teh beach, have falafel and shwarma, and just generally enjoy having some time together in between August 28th and January 2nd. That night we had dinner with our family in Jerusalem, and the next day it was time to get back into the "normal" groove of school.

Sunday, we went on a tiyul ("field trip") to learn all about the 1948 War of Independence, beginning at a kibbutz up north that was turned into an underground bullet factory, and continuing to the building in Tel Aviv where Israel declared its independence on March 14, 1948, at 4pm. Maybe in my next entry I'll expand on the sites in this tiyul and the 1948 war, but it's late, so I'll just outline for now. Not too long after the British withdrew from the Middle East, all of the Arab nations surrounding Israel rushed in to wipe the Jews into the sea. Ultimately, they failed, and although a heavy price was paid (1%, or 6,000 out of 600,000 Jews were killed), the State of Israel persevered and held on, defeating the Arabs and making the borders secure for the time being.

A succession of wars followed the '48 War of Independence, the first being the Sinai Campaign in 1956, in which Israel responded to attacks by Egyptian guerillas by capturing the Sinai Peninsula and the Suez Canal. The story goes that Britain and France meant to help the Israelis, but by the time they got to Egypt to provide reinforcements, the Israeli soldiers were tanning on the bank of the Suez Canal saying "where were you guys?". In the end, the UN made Israel give Sinai back to Egypt, something only done once or twice in history---where the victor of a war actually has to give land back that they gained legitimately. The 1956 Campaign showed the Arab nations that Israel was now something to contend with, and this led up to the next flare-up of violence, the Six Days War.

On June 5th, 1967, Israel sent out planes before dawn to bomb the air bases of Egypt and Jordan, immoblizing the amassed military capabilities existing there. In the weeks prior to this event, Egypt's Prime Minister Nasser moved all his troops to the Israeli/Egyptian border, as well as closing off all trade routes and evacuating the UN peace forces in the area. He united with Jordan and Syria, and by June of '67, Israel knew that the Arab countries meant war. In an effort to surprise the tri-national Arab force, Israel launched a preemptive strike, and then moved its troops onto three fronts. On the Egyptian front, the Sinai Peninsula was captured again; on the Syrian front, Israel captured the Golan Heights; and on the Jordanian front, Israel re-took the West Bank of the Jordan River, now an Israeli territory. The biggest gain of the Six Days War, though, was the re-uniting of Jerusalem. From 1948-1967, Jerusalem had belonged to Jordan, and Jews couldn't get into the Old City to pray at the Cotel (Western/Wailing Wall). After all the hard work of the War of Independence, the Jews of Israel still couldn't pray at their holiest of holy sites. This was the focus of today's tiyul, at Ammunition Hill. This hill used to be a Jordanian outpost, and the Israelis took it by force in order to regain the Old City. After a long, bloody battle, the Jordanians were subdued and Jews began flocking into the Old City, blowing shofars and holding Torah scrolls high. For the first time in 19 years, Jerusalem---all of it---was again in Jewish hands.

This triumph is where we've left off for now, and it is getting rather late, so I must bid everyone adieu. I apologize for lack of entries since Poland, but I've been one busy puppy, running around with my parents everywhere and showing them the sights of Israel. Tomorrow, we're going to take an all-day excursion to Tzfat, the town of mystics and artists in the Northern part of the country. It'll be good to have some parents-and-me time, time that isn't just dinner and back to the kibbutz. Oh, and by the way, our group has again lost two more members, and the countdown to January 1st has inadvertantly begun. I really love it here, and would love to stay. On the other hand, even though this land may be my home, my home in the States has begun calling to me. Oh, what a paradox.

I do believe it's time to start what I call "living it up".

May the next month be a good one for you (in honor of Rosh Chodesh),
--Aron

aronaltmark@aol.com

Aron Altmark
NFTY-EIE High School
Kibbutz Tzuba
90870 D.N. Harei Yehuda
ISRAEL

**Please be sure to mark all letters with, “AIRMAIL.”