north to south to here nor there... mel criss crosses the country in israel part three

Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2005 07:57:15 -0800 (PST)
Subject: north to south to here nor there... mel criss crosses the country in israel part three

DISCLAIMER: Sorry this is a ridiculously long e-mail... Don't feel obliged to read it but please write me back to let me know how your vacation is going!!!

Shalom L'kulam,

Hoping everyone had a great New Years and is enjoying the first few days of 2005...It's hard to believe that less than a week from today I will be back in Lexington... I knew the most difficult part of coming to Israel would be leaving but I didn't realize how bittersweet it would be.

I'm excited to see the familiar sights and sounds of Lexington and be with my family again--only this week did I finally begin to understand just how far away from the US I am and how difficult it is to be here when I also want to be there with them. But to leave this country again--to leave behind the friends and the memories and the black hats and the knit kippahs and the muzzein call echoing between the hills of Jerusalem...

Sometimes it's as if I can actually feel the two different places pulling in opposite directions on my heart.

I'm trying to cram as much into these last few days as possible--to be everywhere, to see everything--to laugh, to love, to wander until the next horizon before the sun sets. With my base in Jerusalem, I'm currently attempting to see how far North and how far South I can go in a single day. Yesterday, along with a few other Maryland Hillel students we woke up insanely early and went to Mitzpeh Ramon--a desert town in the middle of the Negev (desert that encompasses the southern half of the country).

Our original plan had been to camp out for a few days in the North or South but it's been raining for like a week solid so the possibility of floods made it a little difficult (it's hard to complain about the rain when it's so necessary here).

Instead we arrived at the magnificent Makhtesh Ramon mid morning--basically it's a huge crater considered the "grand canyon" of Israel--considering the size of Israel the Makhtesh (it's official geological name since this geological phenomenon only occurs in Israel bet you're glad you know that now) is absolutely mind-boggling.

We had the unique experience of hiking the Negev during the five or so days a year when it's cloudy. It was such a powerful image to see dark billowing storm clouds racing across the barren desert. Intermittent rays of sunlight would poke through the storm clouds, suddenly lighting up one of the many small volcanoes littering the bottom of the makhtesh--making it appear as if the hill itself were glowing from some light within.

It actually started to drizzle in the middle of our hike--such an incredible experience to hear the pitter patter of rain over the deafening roar of silence of the desert. I stopped to appreciate it and commune with the natural environment around me, as we had learned in our Nesiya desert hikes, until I realized I had chosen to meditate and become one with the earth in the middle of a wadi (small valley) in the crater's floor--a prime place for flash floods. We decided to hike the last few hours a little quicker after that.

I am now near the city of Akko visiting Deb and Deb's family, tomorrow back south to Tel Aviv in the morning, east to Jerusalem at night, and after that we'll see which way the wind takes me.

New Year's Eve, my second New Year's in Israel in a row, was an experience (to say the least) in Tel Aviv... Among other things I managed to lose my cell phone and a disposable camera with some really awesome pictures.

On that note, the new number (from Israel) is 050-835-8059. For those of you who know me well, imagine how my habit of leaving everything everywhere translates into country-wide traveling... I've managed to misplace (and sometimes relocate) my cellphone, the disposable camera, my friend's keys to his apartment (that was a fun one), a siddur, my toiletries bag (twice), and, well, those are just the things I know about.

This time in Israel has been a mishmash of experiences from all over the board and it's hard to piece them all together in a sequence. I'm criss crossing into so many subgroups of Israeli society--changing from Tel Aviv club wear to religious skirt and long sleeves in the bus stations in transit to my next adventure--sometimes, in trying to fit in with each new group, it's easy to forget who I am and it's so hard to figure out where I fit in all this mess.

Eachtime I -have a conversation with someone, an old friend from the states or someone I sit next to on the bus or a friend from Israel or my parents back home I swing back and forth, wavering between all those questions--dati (religious) or chiloni (secular), shirut leumi (national service volunteering) or army, make aliyah (move to Israel) or not, and above all, WHEN.

But enough introspection and more rambling... there's also been a million stories and travel mishaps as I attempt to navigate around Eretz Yisrael on my own. Last week was my friend Josh's Teketz Hashba'ah (swearing-in ceremony) for the army. Because he is a"chayel boded" (literally translated as a "lonely soldier" meaning his parents aren't in Israel) I went along with a couple of friends to take pictures and act as stand-in parents. Of course Josh neglected to tell us his "plugah" (platoon) so we were left to trying to find Josh among 850 Jewish-looking soldiers dressed identically in green fatigues.

This ceremony is when the soldiers are presented with their gun anda tanakh (bible) and I really wanted to take a picture to send to his parents, so I found a soldier that looked somewhat similar and took lots of pictures of him (Josh's mom if you are reading this--just kidding it's obviously your son).

It was very cool to hear the soldiers take their oath "Ani Nishba ani nishba ani nishba!" "I swear I swear I swear" and I even got a little teary eyed when they played "Hatikvah" (National Anthem).

After the ceremony during the time when the families go to congratulate the soldiers and take pictures I expected to hear typical patriotic Israeli music at this very serious army ceremony. Instead, at this important point in these soldiers'careers, they played classics such as "My Yitties" or "Baby Lose My Breath" (come on guys you know I don't know the REAL names of those songs).

Shabboses here have been interesting as I wrote in my last e-mail (sorry to keep cluttering up your e-mailboxes, mostly I just write these so people write back to me--you don't even really have to read them). One shabbos morning I spent at the Great Synagogue--a very American, Ashkenazic (European ancestry) huge imposing shul, stained glass and chandeliers with a 30 member choir who I half expected to turn around after some prayers and go "Jazz Hands!" It was more like a show than a service--I seriously had to resist the urge to clap after a few prayers.

Last Shabbos I went to a local Sephardi (Arabic andAfrican descent) synagogue--a very small little shul tucked away in a small alleyway filled with religious Jews of (what I think is) Iranian descent with Hebrew so heavily accented and tunes so different from the ones I knew if I closed my eyes and listened I almost felt like I was in a mosque. They're so very different and yet they're only 10 or so minutes away from each other--two of the many completely different worlds that exist in Jerusalem that rarely intersect.

I visited Kibbutz for the first time in almost a year--it was strange to see how little had changed in a year and even though I was there for six months I barely recognized anyone since all the people I knew best--the volunteers and the Ulpanistim (people in my Hebrew class) have long since left (except Shui and no I didn't see him) but the whole Kibbutz looks the same. I had dinner with my old "mishpacha m'oometzet" (adopted family) who has since had another had another adopted Ulpanist come and gone (named, incidentally, Rose). It was wonderful to see them again and hear about all their simchas from the past year and see pictures of their grandchildren who have gotten somuch older.

And so I guess I'll sign off here for this absurdly long e-mail, traveling again towards an unknown horizon... exploring the country I love and trying to figure out what to do--laughing with friends talking with family watching the country fly by past the window... So here's to a happy new year--laughter, love, happiness, warmth, and above all DECISIONS as we all head off into 2005.

Shanah Tovah (Happy New Year)
B'ahavah,
Melanie

P.S. If you're still reading here, you rock and you are an awesome person and I promise to bring you Israeli chocolate.