5 days in the Holy Land

I arrived in Israel late on Wednesday afternoon and upon exiting the plane was immediately pulled aside by a security person who asked me why I was coming to Israel. I told her I wanted to learn Hebrew, and when she asked why my tired, jetlagged self said, "I feel like I'm Jewish and I want to get to know my roots and study Hebrew." To which she responded, "You feel like you're Jewish, or you are Jewish?" The feminist in me felt sad at my use of commonly female speech patterns, but the sleepy traveler in me felt more irritated and said, "Yes, yes, I'm Jewish, I love Israel, you know, just want to love the country more," and she let me go merrily on my way.

I assumed this woman was just doing your average terrorist check, although I did notice that the only other person pulled aside was a male American looking hippie. However, when I recounted the story to the director of my program, he informed me that based on the way I was dressed and the placement of the security people and the questions they asked me, their assumption was that I was a drug dealer and not a terrorist.

Quite silly. Anyway, I made it through the rest of the airport, managed to get both of my bags, and took a cab to the most amazing apartment that the fellowship has rented for us. It is located right by the Carmel Market and is very central and, most importantly, a 5 minute walk to the beach. Once I had settled my stuff into the apartment, another girl from the program and I walked most of the length of the beach, swam in the Mediterranean, and then met up with some other people from the program who brought beer and falafel. We ate, drank, swam and played on the beach trying to take in all of the excitement of our new adventure!

On thursday we got down to business and I got health insurance and a cell phone. For those of you who might feel like socialized medicine is a bad thing, let me just tell you that I paid $300 for one year of health insurance. That health insurance covers almost everything under the sun. Had I been unemployed in the US instead of fellowshipping in the holy land right now, I would have been paying $600 a month. Not making any political statements here, but $600 a month vs. $300 a year. It took me 15 minutes to get Israeli health insurance. It took me one month to get American health insurance. Case closed.

Then I went to get a cell phone with my friend, her Israeli boyfriend, and another girl from my program. We went to the big mall in the center of Tel Aviv and let my friend's boyfriend do most of the talking. We had pretty much decided on a plan and the girl from my fellowship and I went off to get falafel, mull over our cell phone choices, and head back. My friend and her boyfriend left. When we returned to purchase our cell phones, we were seized by an inability to make any decision. Some of you may recall that I tend to decide that one sort of unimportant thing is actually super, super important and struggle over the decision for hours, days, weeks, etc. Apparently I am not the only one afflicted with this problem. So, the two of us stood there talking to our new best friend, Shai, an employee at Cellcom who actually prefers to be performing with his band rather than helping two American girls figure out how many minutes a month they are going to talk and how many texts they are going to send. Eventually, and by eventually I mean three hours later, Shai decided that we should do a trial month and come back to him in September with a decision about a plan. So, that's that. Please email me if you would like my number so that you can call me every time you miss me too much.

Later I met up with an Israeli friend of mine at a bar where everybody in the bar seemed to feel it appropriate to smoke in front of signs that clearly say in many languages "no smoking allowed!" Everyone has insisted that there is a law that there is no smoking in bars, but everyone also says that everything is negotiable in Israel, so I suppose the smoking is negotiated. Anyway, despite the disgusting smell of smoke that made me feel like it was 2004 and I was at a bar in Ann Arbor, I managed to remember the great trick of drinking two beers to speak a language better! So, two Goldstars in I had decided that every Israeli in the group I was with were my Hebrew teachers and spent most of the rest of the night trying to form basic sentences and perfecting the Hebrew phrase, "How do I say ____ in Hebrew?"

Later that night there was supposed to be a meteor shower so we went to the beach but only saw a couple of shooting stars. Apparently there was too much light pollution, but it feels like it was the thought that counted. Then, as it turns out, I don't quite have the skill set to get sand out of my clothes properly, so I brought all of the Mediterranean beach back with me and my entire apartment continues to be covered in sand. I am sensing that being covered in sand is going to be a recurring theme in my life for the next year, so I'm trying to embrace it as a free exfoliation product. My skin should be super soft come June!

For Shabbat, most of the people in my group gathered for a lovely dinner on our meerpesset which means porch or deck or gorgeous balcony or something to that effect. The balcony has couches and tables and overlooks the Mediterranean - Dorot has frankly really spoiled us because we are never going to be able to afford an apartment as nice as the one they have put us in. Anyway, it was weirdly nice to be doing Shabbat in Israel and feeling sort of Jew-y. But please, don't read anything into that sentence that implies any sort of Orthodoxy, intense Zionism, or anything other than a love of balconies, fresh vegetables, and group singalongs. Anyhow, we then spent Saturday Shabbat at the beach and again, I brought most of the beach back with me.

All in all, life has been really wonderful these past five days. My main concerns right now include: wondering why I am the only person who sweats so much that I look as if I am standing in a steam room the second I step outside while everyone else looks like it's a balmy afternoon; wondering when people will stop talking about the Atlantic Monthly article re: Israel bombing Iran (see here for a fun read: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/print/2010/09/the-point-of-no-return/8186/); the sneaking suspicion that unlike goat cheese, bulgarian cheese might not be one of those "low calorie" cheeses; and the also sneaking suspicion that I will not be living in an amazing apartment with a balcony overlooking the beach for the rest of the year.

And, please don't worry grandmothers, so far I'm making good choices.