4th post

Sorry it’s been so long!

I’ve been busy—in the past two months we’ve done so much.  We spent a week at a kibbutz in the South learning about kibbutz life and solar energy, participated in Gadna (army training), and went on a three day sea-to-sea hike—though it really ended up only being mountain to mountain.

Gadna was an experience unlike anything I’ve ever done.  We were put in tzevets (groups) of about 15 separated by gender, and each tzevet had a mefaked (commander).  The commanders are young Israelis who do Gadna as their army service.  Gadna is meant to simulate the Israeli army, so they keep a “distance” from all their soldiers.  Some of the most memorable moments were the few times that our commander lost her cool and couldn’t help but laugh at us—it only happened once or twice though.  On our time there, we had kitchen duty, where we spent three hours setting up the kitchen for breakfast and cleaning it up until it was spotless.  We only ate two meals in the dining hall, and the rest we ate out in the fields.  The food was disgusting—we had canned tuna, chocolate spread, and bread for two out of three meals a day.  Throughout the three days, we had classes on how to handle guns, to prepare us for the last day.  We each got to shoot M16s.  Out of 10 bullets, I got one on the small target and 4 on the piece of paper the target was on.  Not the best, but definitely not the worst…  It was also a time for bonding.  I got much closer with the girls in my tzevet.   There were times at Gadna when all I wanted was to go back to the Chava, but afterward, I really appreciated it—I even missed my mefakedet!

After Gadna, we came back to the Chava and had a host shabbat, but before we knew it it was Pesach break.  I flew to Barcelona to meet my mom there, and we spent a really nice four days together there.  We came back just in time for the seder, which we spent with family friends in the North.  The Sunday after the seder, I met back up with TRY for our sea-to-sea hike.  It’s supposed to start from the Kinneret and go all the way to the Mediterranean, but because of time constraints, we started a couple miles west of the kinneret and hiked a lot of miles east of the mediterranean (we took a bus the rest of the way, but because of the weather, we ended up at a parking lot near the mediterranean but couldn’t actually go to the water).  For the hike, we were split into two large groups of two, and each group was split into three smaller subgroups.  We did the major hikes with our bigger group, and prepared and ate meals with our small groups.  Though for the majority of the day I was separated from some of my best friends, I was able to become much closer with people I didn’t know as well.  The hikes were pretty intense—we did at least 8 hours of hiking each day.  In our subgroups, we were given vegetables, meat, rice, matzah, pots, and a gas cooker in order to make our meals.  We were able to make some delicious Israeli salad, but the first day for lunch, my group accidentally cooked our rice with strawberry-banana flavored water, which tasted awful.  We learned from our mistakes though, and the next day our rice was a success!  After our three days of intense hiking and no showering, we arrived at Kibbutz Hannaton in the North for the rest of Pesach.  The Parent Trip started that day so the parents joined us and we spent a relaxing four days at the Kibbutz.  Two of the days were chag so we prayed in the morning then spent the rest of the day hanging out in the sun, reading, chatting, and enjoying each other’s company.  Finally on Sunday, we returned to the Chava after two weeks of being away.  Even though I had an amazing Pesach break, it was nice to get back to our routine.

This past Thursday was Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day).  We were fortunate enough to be able to spend it at Yad Vashem (they had reservations a year in advance for us!).  It was my first time at the main part of the exhibit.  We had a tour guide who made points that had never occurred to me, which made it an eye-opening experience, but it wasn’t as emotional as I expected it to be.  For me, one of the most moving parts of the day was the siren.  Each year, a siren is sounded on Yom HaShoah througout the whole country of Israel, and everyone stops what they are doing in order to pay respects to the six million who perished in the Holocaust.  I had been in Israel for the siren before, but never in the museum.  Since the museum is partly underground, we were unable to hear the siren outside, but the museum sounded their own siren.  Though I was expecting the loud noise, it caught me off guard for one reason—it sounded like a man screaming in pain. It was such an intense, shrill sound, and being surrounded by the stories of mass murders and lost families made the sound so real.  I still don’t know if that sound was intentional or not (I don’t think it was), but it really made it all the more poignant.  The second most meaningful part of the day was the children’s memorial.  It’s a dark, mirrored room with five candles lit.  Because of the mirrors, the candles are reflected millions of times.  It looked like the night sky—like millions of tiny stars representing the fallen children.  My first thought was that it looked like Neverland (like in the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland).  I’m not sure if it is utterly depressing or uplifting, but upon further thought, I decided that it was fitting that it looked like Neverland—a place where children never grow up.  The children killed in the Holocaust had their lives taken from them before they had the chance to grow up, so Neverland is the perfect place for them to be eternalized.

This week is Yom HaZikaron and then Yom HaAtzmaut—Memorial day and Independence day.  Check back soon for a post!

3rd post

I am not a deeply religious person, and I never have been.  I’m not entirely sure what to believe when it comes to God.  When it comes to Judaism, I connect to the cultural side as opposed to the religious side.  I love the culture of Judaism.  Coming on this program, I knew I’d be exposed to Jewish and Israeli culture but that inevitably I would have to face the more religious aspects of Israel.
Going to the Kotel was not something I thought would mean much to me.  I had been before, and I never experienced a religious catharsis (or something of that sort) that would cause me to feel a great respect and appreciation for this wall.  When I got there, as expected, I did not feel much.  It was just a wall that I’d seen before in pictures and a couple times in person.  It was nothing too special.
However, when I walked up to the wall, something changed.  It was nothing major, but all of a sudden I felt a connection to something.  I thought about the wall and about how it had been built by our ancestors thousands of years ago.  If anything, it was cool to see and feel something so old.
Then I looked around me, and I saw people praying.  People were praying with such kavana (intention) that it felt wrong to even watch them.  Some people were crying, some even sobbing.  I decided to pray Mincha, which I never do.  I figured if I would feel anything, I might as well try to feel it here, at the holiest place in Judaism.  Nothing really changed, but I still felt a connection to Jews as a nation.
It may sound weird, but my connection to the wall comes from the fact that other people feel so connected to it.  The Kotel, for some people, is the holiest place in the world, one of the places they want to see before they die.  For me, it’s not, but my respect for those people translates into a respect for the Kotel.  I feel connected to the Jews as a nation when I’m there.  The Kotel is a place where anyone, whether they believe in God, don’t believe, or don’t know if they believe, can believe in something—the power of unity.

The Lost Girls

We arrived in Israel on Monday at 2 p.m., exhausted but exhilarated.  The 14-hour nonstop flight from LA had seven kids, and we landed about 2 hours before the group flight from New York.  The trip was off to an interesting start when my friends Marcia and Paige, who I know from camp, lost the group at the airport.  It was mostly funny, but also pretty embarrassing.

We got to the Youth Village in the heart of Jerusalem in the pouring rain and had to bring our suitcases down to our dorms.  The next few days went by super-fast, filled with orientations, getting our schedules, and even our first tiyul (trip,) to the Negev.  We rode camels and stayed in totally inauthentic Bedouin tents.  It was tons of fun but a little awkward since we still didn’t all know each other.

Since then, we’ve been getting accustomed to dorm life and our classes.  The day is pretty hectic, with class from 8:45 to 6:30 and breaks for lunch and free periods.  During our free time we can go off campus, and there’s a yummy falafel stand, bakery, and super market right outside the chava (youth village).

I’m already having the most amazing time and I can tell it’s going to get better.  Check back soon for an update!

Goodbye LA, Hello Jerusalem!

It’s been three-and-a-half years since I was screaming and crying at LAX’s Tom Bradley International Terminal. I threw the most outrageous tantrum ever—and I had no shame. I probably looked and sounded like a spoiled little brat.

I remember going through security (though I tried to resist), and a TSA employee said to my face: “Who do you think you are, Lindsay Lohan?” I’m still not completely sure what she meant by that, because I don’t think Lindsay is known for having temper tantrums or anything of the sort, but still. I was clearly being an obnoxious (not so little) girl.

And I hate to say it, but I don’t really regret throwing that fit. But that was then, and this is now. Today I am boarding a plane for Ben Gurion Airport in Israel, where I will spend the next four months in Jerusalem. I’ll take all my classes there (in English!) on a program called TRY (Tichon Ramah Yerushalayim).

My seventh-grade year, my mom took my family and moved us to Israel. It was just for the year, but I tried to refuse to go. I didn’t (and still don’t) think it’s fair to force your teenage daughter to leave her friends and family to go somewhere she has absolutely no desire to go. Nevertheless, I went.

Three years later, I haven’t changed my mind: I still wish I had not gone, and when it was over I resented both my mom’s Zionism and Israel itself.

Last year, when it was decided that my brother’s bar mitzvah would be held in Israel, I said I wanted to spend the least amount of time possible there and the majority of our trip in the other countries we would be visiting on the trip.

But that’s when things started to change.

When the time came to go to Israel, we only had two days in Tel Aviv and three in Jerusalem – it wasn’t nearly enough time, I decided. I wanted to stay longer, and I didn’t know why, but all of a sudden I felt this major appreciation for Israel.

Later, I realized why: I felt truly comfortable there, even though it was a foreign country. It was a feeling I’d never felt anywhere other than California. Even sometimes traveling to another state in my own country I didn’t feel as comfortable as I felt in Israel. I felt like I belonged there; like I fit right in.

While at Camp Ramah this past summer for my last year as a camper, they gave a presentation to us about TRY. My initial reaction was that it sounded amazing. It was like camp times 10, and four times longer. I knew it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. When I got home from camp, I immediately told my parents I was interested. They were shocked — understandably! — but pleased.

Because of that seventh-grade year in Israel, I still feel a teeny bit of resentment towards Israel. I’m constantly in the presence of Zionists and people who love Israel so much, who’d give anything to go there, but I can never really relate, because I have an awkward love-but-still-sort-of-hate relationship with Israel.

I think I decided to take this semester abroad so I could broaden my horizons — I know it sounds cheesy but it’s true. Shalhevet is a really small school, and as much as I love my friends (and I do love them), I feel like I need to change things up a bit. I want to do something I’ve never done before — and why not Israel?

So I’m going in hopes of diminishing any speck of resentment I have towards Israel. I want to be able to say, without thinking twice, “I love Israel.” I feel like I’m almost there; I just need this little—or maybe big—step to get me to where I want to be.