Purim and other cool things

It’s been a solid few weeks. I started my internship and I’m really enjoying it. I was pretty apprehensive about working for free, but I can say at this point that it’s worthwhile for the experience I’m gaining. The company is called LR Group, and they develop projects in emerging markets, like Africa, Russia, Papua New Guinea, and Kazakhstan. They started out by bringing the Israeli moshav concept (a type of farming cooperative) to post-civil war Angola. They focused on agriculture, energy, water, healthcare and telecommunications, utilizing Israeli technologies and techniques. This effort was very successful, and they’ve since branched out to dozens of other African countries and also other parts of the world. Their main business is agriculture, which is what I’m doing.

Now, if you had asked me one year ago if I would ever see myself working in agriculture, I would have laughed at you. But I’ve quickly realized how important these types of projects are. Israeli agricultural practices are the most efficient and high-yielding in the world, and they have the power to transform the lives of smallholding farmers and boost the economies of entire regions in developing countries. I could criticize the projects for using fertilizers and non-organic feeds, but instead I’m recognizing that LR Group's method might be the best way to feed a hungry world. I’ve only been there two weeks, so the jury is still out, but it looks like the company's efforts are both profitable and noble at the same time.

It’s just like my experience with mining. When I first starting working with RES, I was psyched about the renewable energy aspect, but I found the mining niche unpalatable. Then I learned how mines produce the copper, gold, silver, and other metals that are necessary for a clean energy economy, and my perspective changed.

In both industries, I was guilty of being the typical young urban American who doesn’t understand that stuff comes from the ground. Reality check.

The people at the office are really great. Everyone seems really psyched and enthusiastic about their work, but not in an irritating over-the-top sort of way, but a cool, matter-of-fact, Israeli way. Everyone has been warm and friendly towards me. The company really takes care of its employees, too. They feed us really good breakfast and lunch each day. I’ve been off for the last couple days, because everyone is on a company vacation in Barcelona, where they’re going to the Football Classico and also the Beyonce concert. (Too bad I didn’t start up with them just a wee bit sooner…maybe I would have gotten the invite...)

One woman named Dahlia even invited me to have Shabbat dinner with her family, which was such a treat. I met her sons and daughters, a few of whom are in their twenties, and we’ve since gone out a couple times.

Here’s a crazy story that’s emblematic of Israeli kindness but also an example of cultural differences: One guy at my office named Eran has a shared interest in bikes and bike commuting, so we’ve gotten close.  I had to go to the dermatologist because I was getting really weird disgusting skin lesions. At first I thought they were bug bites, but then I started to think I had leprosy or something. Either way, I wanted to get it sorted out fast. My insurance gave me a few different names, and one of them could see me the following day, but I didn’t understand how to pronounce the street address. So I went to Eran to ask him, and he found it on google maps. But he told me it would be a huge pain to take public transit there, so he offered drive me. I resisted, but he insisted it would only take fifteen minutes by car.

So he drove me, and we had a great conversation, and when we got to the parking lot I thanked him profusely and got out of the car. Then he got out of the car too. I said, no way, you’re not coming with me and waiting for me in the waiting room and driving me home — that’s just far, far too generous. But again, he insisted that it would take me hours to find the bus stop and then I’d have to transfer to another bus, and he was happy to drive me since it was on his way home (it really wasn’t.) So, we sat together in the waiting room until I was called up, and Eran waited for me like he was my mother, and then he drove me home.  (Sidenote: The doctors’ offices here are much different than the US. When you’re called up, you go into the room, and the doctor is sitting there at his desk waiting for you. He looks at you, tells you what you have, writes a prescription, and sends you on your way. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am)

I wanted to get Eran something to show my gratitude. He had mentioned how he was trying to be healthier and not eat as many sweets, and when I’d offered to buy him a beer he said he wasn’t a beer drinker, so I decided to get a bottle of wine. The next day I brought the bottle into his office, and he had a look in his eyes that I can only describe as horrified. He told me he couldn’t possibly accept this, and I insisted, but the interaction was different than it would be in America. Eran genuinely didn’t want anything in exchange for his kindness — almost as if this token of gratitude, this reciprocation, had cheapened the favor he had done for me.

So we changed the subject, talked about bikes, and then I sort of awkwardly backed out of his office, neither one of us acknowledging the wine bottle that was still on his desk.

Maybe we’ll drink it together in the future, and laugh about our cultural differences.

Lesson learned. Israelis will often treat me like family. And, like family, they may be offended at the idea of receiving anything in return for their kindness.

—

With all that said, though, it hasn’t exactly been a piece of cake adjusting back to regular working life. Between my noisy, crowded dormitory located on a busy honking street corner, and then the hourlong commute on a crowded bus to work, and then the entire day spent in a beautiful but nonetheless fluorescent office, I’m feeling like a caged animal. When Kathi visited me, she noticed it immediately; she even gave me the nickname “Grumpy Zack,” in the city vis a vis “Peaceful Zack,” when I was in the Negev.

So I’m taking steps to make things more in line with my preferred lifestyle. After the bike trip, I had promised myself a full six months of zero cycling, but psh, who was I kidding. Eran is helping me navigate the Hebrew version of Craigslist for a solid secondhand commuter. There is a path to Herzliya, where my office is, and it runs along the beach, and takes about the same amount of time as the bus. It’s going to be epic! Especially as the days become longer :)

I’m also looking at apartments outside of the dormitory. It would be slightly more expensive, but worth it. The residential streets here are green and quiet, and you can hear birds chirping instead of the din of traffic.

Lastly, there are great opportunities to get out of the city. My program is one of many programs under an umbrella organization called Masa. I thought this organization more or less provides scholarships for participants, but it actually does a lot more. They put on several “shabbatons,” which are destination weekends that center on various Israeli and Jewish topics. These offer a wonderful (and cost-free) way to get out of town. I went to one a few weeks ago in Jerusalem, focused on security and diplomacy, and I learned a ton! Simon was there, the same person who spoke to us on our first day and who I had tried to get back again for another visit!

During the shabbaton, we went on a tour of East Jerusalem, participated in workshops about asymmetrical warfare and the Boycott movement, and stayed up late into the night in a session called “everything you ever wanted to know about the Middle East but were afraid to ask.” We had several other panels, one in which a British-Israeli news reporter and a British aide to Avigdor Leiberman (the defense minister) politely and properly (and British-ly) called each other out on each others’ bullshit, one with a Palestinian activist, and one with a Chicago-born writer for the Jerusalem Post on the Israeli Knesset. Everything about it was awesome.

The main takeaway I got from the entire seminar was one important message — at this current moment in time, the Israeli side seems willing to make compromises, but the Palestinian side is more interested in justice. That’s a really tough stalemate.

The shabbaton this past weekend was a retreat in the north, a beautiful location called Tel Hai, and it was simply meant to bring Israelis and non-Israelis together. We went on a bike ride / river swim, had a campfire, and did lots of cool other activities. And, of course, we partied late into the night. I got a lot of insights into the commonalities and differences I have with Israelis my age, and made some awesome new friends.

One thing I discussed, which has been on my mind lately, has been the idea of minority vs. majority. Growing up, a strong part of my Jewish identity was being a minority. That meant sometimes getting teased at school, and even meant facing anti-semitism. But it also tied my family and community together. When I started a conversation with someone, at a bar, at a party, wherever, and we discovered we were both Jewish, that was a cool thing. It could serve as the basis for a friendship. For instance, in Albuquerque, I had a group of twenty something Jews which came about through random connections with one another. I met Dave at a pool party, and his girlfriend Anna met Lauren because they both noticed they were buying matzah at the grocery store. Dave worked with Rebecca, and Ariel was in their apartment complex and also crossfitted with me. We went to services once in a while, we had Hannukah parties, we did our little Passover seders. We all liked each other but may not have been such good friends otherwise. Here in Israel, the Jews are the majority; since you have that Jewish commonality with everyone, it’s not as special. Or, it’s just as special, but in a different way — a more overarching, societal specialness, but not as much on the individual level. So that’s one difference in Jewish identity here. 

We watched a really cool documentary about Israeli society, through the eyes of a famous photographer. It covered fashion, architecture, the hi tech industry, and other aspects all related to the crazy 70 years of the Jewish state’s existence. At the very beginning of the documentary, the photographer said a basis of his work was (paraphrased) “this idea that people came here for more security. But now, Jews in every other country are more secure than we are here. The idea didn’t work.” That really struck me as a powerful, and incredibly incorrect, statement. Maybe I misinterpreted it, and he was presenting an idea that he didn’t agree with, but it sounded so pessimistic and defeatist.

But anyway, he did give a lot of cool perspectives on things that I’ve been curious about. For instance, he connected the Israeli hatred of standing on lines, to the disrespect shown by children towards their teachers. There is a joke that an Israeli will push and shove to get ahead of you onto the bus, but then will turn around and offer you his seat. I had heard from many teachers how discourteous schoolchildren can be, and my hypothesis was that they figure they’ll learn discipline in the army, so they don’t need to behave now. Examples of this general flippant attitude abound. For instance, there was an uproar when the Knesset required its politicians to wear suits. “They should be able to wear what they want,” people cried, “they don’t have to listen to your rules.”

The documentary explained all this by pointing to the prevailing, permeating mentality in Israeli culture of not wanting to be a “sucker.” Every time a bus comes, Israelis ask themselves, “Am I going to be a sucker?” When a teacher disciplines a child, the child thinks, “I don’t have to listen to you…I’m not a sucker.” There’s a constant paranoia about getting screwed, one-upped, or stepped on.

The psychology is of course rooted in history. People think, we were suckers in Poland. We’re not suckers anymore.

In my head, I was watching this and relating it to the peace process. I wonder how much this mentality influences the negotiations.

—

Learning hebrew has been pretty tough. I’m trying to do a little Rosetta Stone every day, and I have hebrew classes once per week. I think I’m making progress, but it’s slow going. Hebrew’s hard! Here’s a perfect example: The Hebrew word for him is pronounced like the English word “who.” The word for she is pronounced like “he.” The word for who is pronounced like “me,” and the word for they is pronounced, more or less, like “him.”

So I could totally make a sweet version of the comedy routine “Who’s on First?" Hebrew style. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow.

—

Purim was last weekend, and I’m not gonna lie, it was a shit show. It’s like Halloween on steroids. The entire weekend was full of block parties and picnics during the day, and crazy costumed debauchery at night.

We have a class once a week with a Rabbi named Ezra. He’s this chill hippy reggae Orthodox Jew, with long flowing hair nestled into a big rainbow beanie. He invited us to a couple open-bar parties on Saturday night, and they were INSANE. He explained to us that on Purim, you’re supposed to drink until you can’t tell the difference between good and bad. I would say we followed his instructions to a T!

Neighborhood block party for Purim. It's like New Orleans...no open container laws!

View of East Jerusalem during our tour. Really interesting dissection of Arab and Israeli neighborhoods, side by side

Yom Maasim Tovim is the national day of volunteering in Israel. We went to an elderly home and sang and danced with the residents. A lot of them created the city of Tel Aviv. It was so much fun hanging out with them!

More singing and dancing with the elderly residents

A lot of the Purim costumes were completely irreverent. Nobody was spared. People dressed as ultra-Orthodox Jews, Arabs, and everything in between. This guy was pretending to be the Pope.

An Israeli soldier at the Shabbaton had to go straight to her base after the weekend, so she had to bring her gun with her. They're not allowed to leave their guns alone unless the guns are behind two locked doors. She was nice enough to let me borrow it for a minute :)

Cycling during the Shabbaton. Felt good to be in the saddle again.

Reading the Megillah at the Purim party. Rabbi Ezra is the one in the tie-dyed shirt. He's the first Rabbi in my life that I've actually had a connection with. We're all completely shwasted at this point in the evening.

My friend Madeleine and Jake (with Daniel photo-bombing) at the Purim party

Singing and dancing and playing guitar with awesome Israelis at the Shabbaton in Tel Hai

The view in Tel Hai, as Shabbat comes to a close

At the Shabbat Unity Lunch, a cool concept in which strangers just get together and have a picnic for Shabbat. This one was extra special because it was on Purim.

Get with the program

After 2+ weeks, our orientation is coming to a close. We’ve done so many cool things — I'll try to sum them up.

We were In Jerusalem for three days, and it was great. We took a culinary tour and a comparative religion tour, and explored the ancient tunnels beneath the Western Wall. We also did a lot of ice breakers and social activities to meet the other participants.

After that we took a bus to Tel Aviv and moved into our dorm rooms. My place is alright. Pretty basic and small, and not a lot of cooking equipment, but I’ve accumulated a stash by borrowing from people who don't cook. It was a good call to pay extra for a single, so I don't have roommates. I’m not a college freshman anymore :)

We've had a lot of fantastic speakers. A political expert explained Israel's domestic issues and also the Palestine conflict, in really objective terms that were easy to understand. The group asked so many questions that he didn't even get to the third section of his lecture on Israel and the wider Arab world. I'm trying to get people together to buy him a beer and continue the conversation.

In addition, we listened to the former Mossad agent who led the covert operation to bring Ethiopian Jews to Israel during the 1980s. His story was incredible. These people, until about 150 years ago, thought that they were the last Jews on earth; for this reason, they remained very devout with their practices and rituals through the generations, and their dream was always to return to Zion. When the agent first made contact with the community, they said, "You can't possibly be Jewish. You're white!" But eventually he was able to establish a relationship with them and gained their trust. They left everything behind -- their house, their flock of livestock, their land -- a fortune in Ethiopian terms, to go to an unfamiliar, modern place where the people weren't always welcoming towards them. More on that later.

The Mossad smuggled Jewish families from Ethiopia into Sudan, both of which were wartorn by Communist dictators and did not recognize Israel. They brought the Jews north to the coast, on the only paved road in the entire region, in cover of darkness, often through riverbeds and other difficult terrain, speeding through checkpoints whenever they were encountered. Their cover story was a scuba diving eco-tourism resort, which actually started to attract a lot of European divers and turned a profit! The Ethiopian Jews were dropped at this resort, and then Navy Seals received them and brought them into Israel.

The Mossad guys relied on secrecy, bribery, and intrigue, but their operation was eventually found out. So they planned to use a plane to shuttle the Jews from Sudan to the coast, but first needed to disable a military radar station. So, posing as shepherds for several weeks in order to gain all the intelligence they needed, they finally executed the sabotage operation by faking engine trouble in the middle of the night, making lots of noise and bringing all the guards out to investigate, while two people sneaked in and destroyed the system in a well-practiced two-minute operation. Insane.

It was like talking to the guy from Argo in person!

The most touching part of this guy's story was how he developed close personal friendships with many of the Ethiopian Jews he rescued, and watched their children and grandchildren grow up as Israeli citizens.

We also spoke with the guy who led the campaign to rescue Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who was held hostage for 5 years. We heard from a young gay orthodox man, and his struggle to reconcile his religious preferences and faith with his sexuality, as well as his success in forming a new synagogue for gay religious people here in Tel Aviv. We listened to the leader of Yalla, a Facebook-driven peace organization that brings together young leaders from all over the Middle East to interact, discuss, and push one simple message: There are no more excuses for peace.

I do have one big gripe, though. We were told that we'd have a full three weeks of Ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes) during orientation, but they decided for this session to do Ulpan once a week throughout the entire program instead. Personally, I think it would be ideal to do both. But I feel kind of misled, and now I don't have a good Hebrew foundation to start out with. My friend Madeleine gave me her copy of Rosetta Stone, so maybe that will get me up to speed.

---

A few days ago we went on a three day trip to the Negev Desert. Ironically, the first stop on our tour was Mitzpe Ramon, where I had been volunteering the previous month! We went on a couple rad hikes, visited a goat farm, and stayed overnight at a Kibbutz. We also visited a Bedouin village where one woman has really bucked the norm and chosen to study in England, start her own business, and get married later in life. She is a rare success story in this community. While there, we listened to Bedouin activists talk about the plight of the Bedouins and the discrimination and oppression they face from the Israeli government. It sure wasn’t the Disneyland Bedouin experience I got on my Birthright trip. These people, who are Israeli citizens, have it really rough, forced to live in designated villages with high unemployment and poor opportunities. If they choose to stay in "unrecognized" villages, they don't receive access to running water, education, or other facilities.

At the same time, though, I got a strong feeling of entitlement from the activists. The Bedouins seem to want their cake and eat it too. They want to continue their semi-nomadic traditional lifestyle, but also receive top quality healthcare and infrastructure from the government. This problem is no just in Israel, either. The Bedouins in Jordan are in the same situation. It's a clash between tradition and modernity, and there is no easy answer, but you could contrast their plight with the Israeli Druze community, who have faced similar challenges but have advanced themselves through education, motivation and cooperation. I don't know enough about this issue to draw any conclusions yet.

Our visit to the Ethiopian neighborhood was really cool too. We were divided into small groups and taken into individual homes. Our group was lucky enough to have as a translator an American guy of about our age who was living here and working with Ethiopians, so he was really well versed on the subject and was able to get a lot of information out of our shy and somewhat reserved host. Like I said earlier, Ethiopians have not been treated very well by Israelis. They’ve encountered a lot of racism and have struggled to integrate into society. The lifestyle, culture, and economy in Israel is completely different from their home country. These people were very devout Jews, and they did not expect the Israelis to be so secular. The government has created absorption centers to help immigrants settle in, but they’re apparently underfunded and understaffed.

Would this woman go back to Ethiopia? No. The opportunities and education for her children are much better in Israel. But she complained that children here don’t respect their parents as much as Ethiopia.

Would she be ok with her kids marrying non-Ethiopians? She said yes, as long as the person was Jewish. In Ethiopia, it was forbidden to marry non-Jews.

Is her daughter single? I didn’t have the courage to ask.

—

Going back to the Negev made me realize how much I miss the open vistas of the desert, and how claustrophobic I feel in the big city. I’ve never lived in a place where I walk outside onto a true city block with taxis and buses zooming by, and I don’t like it. It’s also super expensive. Everything seems to cost 50% or 100% more than in the States, with some exceptions like produce. The bars are ridiculous; I paid less for drinks at the hottest night clubs in NYC. Maybe it takes city life to make me realize how much of a desert rat I really am! At least Tel Aviv has the beach, where I can go soak up the open horizon.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Albuquerque. For me, it was such a perfect lifestyle. New Mexico was similar to the Negev in many ways — 300 days of sunshine per year, mountain biking and hiking galore, beautiful scenery — but the cost of living was so much lower there.

FYI, in comparing Albuquerque, and the US in general, against Israel, I’m going to get on a bit of a pessimistic rant. Here it goes. It appears that the whole country of Israel is buckling under its own weight. Taxes are high, costs are high, salaries are relatively low. About 12% (and growing) of the population are ultra-orthodox Jews who don’t work. And the future doesn't bode well: Ultra orthodox children in first grade amount to 30% of the total population. They don’t serve in the military and they’re a leach on the welfare system, yet they still live in poverty because they have so many children. There is also the high cost (financial and otherwise) of security, which is borne by a population of only 8 million people. A lot of people are struggling to pay the bills, especially the elderly and young people.

I spoke to a young Israeli named Miriam, who is heading back to her home country of France because she’s unable to find a good job. She told me that 87% of Israelis under the age of 40 still live with their parents. 87%! That’s insane. I asked her, what about all these young Tel Avivans who are going out every night and spending $10 per beer? (Seriously, these people are insane. Every night of the week, the bars are packed into the wee hours). She responded that in general, the people living in Tel Aviv are the ones who have “made it;” professionally and financially, and can afford to party hard. She also said that there is a Carpe Diem mentality in Israel, because you don’t know what could happen tomorrow or next week or next year, so people are more inclined to save less and spend more.

Miriam sees a trend in which young, realistic Israelis are leaving the country to pursue better opportunities and a higher standard of living, while idealistic Zionists are coming in, sort of canceling each other out.

And yet. After so many generations of persecution, Israel, despite its flaws, is the ultimate safe haven for Jewish people. Not everyone has the option to live in America. Israel is there for people fleeing from anti-semitism all over the world; young people who were born in Israel may not fully appreciate this. And like I’ve said before, America may not be around forever and may not always be as welcoming to Jews as it is now.

So where does that put me? I’m a young American Jew without any family here. I didn’t have the conviction to come join the army, but of course I feel a tie to the Holy Land. But I also feel strongly that I'm an American. I know It’s a deeper question than cost of living and average salaries. How do you measure quality of life? Where does meaning of life factor into the equation?

—

Other than that, things are going well. Kathi came to Tel Aviv and we spent a few days together before she returned home to Germany. I’ve been settling into my little dormitory apartment, getting into a nice routine, learning how to navigate the chaos of the Shuk (huge outdoor market), cooking meals, and preparing to start my internship. After all the time on the road living a life of transience, it feels good to be rooted in a place and go through the daily motions.

I joined up at the Crossfit gym and have been going regularly. I was thinking that Crossfit would be my ace in the hole for making Israeli friends, getting away from the Americans in my program, and maybe meeting a cute Israeli lady with similar interests in health and fitness. But, to my chagrin, the first class was all American expats! Since then, I’ve met a few Israelis, so there's still hope.

Sunset leaving the Crossfit gym. It's a sweet location to work out!

We visited David Ben Gurion's grave during our Negev trip. Ben Gurion dreamed about populating the Negev, which is still a work in progress.

Bedouin workshop making lip balm

Incredible sunrise seen from the Kibbutz where we stayed

 My yoga buddies Joy and Sam doing some sun salutations

Yummy tomatoes on the salad trail, an organic farm / tourist attraction in the southwest corner of Israel. They use gray water for all their agriculture.

Our Ethiopian host and one of her sons. We had a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony, involving three cups of strong coffee. I was tweaking out by the end!

The group hike in the Negev. It was a gorgeous trail.

The winding back alleys of Jaffa

The Church of St. Peter, where Peter dreamed that God told him it was okay to eat all animals, marking the first major split between Christianity and Judaism. I love my shellfish and pork...so Peter is officially my new favorite saint!

Baby sheep at the goat farm

Baking flatbread at the Bedouin village

Candid shot while we were figuring out the pose for the photo. I like this one better than the actual one!

Rotem and Shlomy stayed at Silent Arrow a few weeks ago and we really hit it off with them. They live in Tel Aviv, so we went to the beach together! I think I'm going to be good friends with these guys while I'm here!