Greece has been a nice break. We have been average American tourists—seeing the ancient ruins, speaking English, souvenir shopping (dangerous business when you’re traveling light, but I bought a couple of pairs of earrings and a scarf, of which I had neither with me before, as well as a replacement purse after experiencing a lot of frustration due to the everything-is-always-under-everything-else situation first introduced in our South America journey. The new bag has a pocket for nearly everything important, so I always know where to look for a camera, change, bus ticket, etc.
Also in Greece, we slept more and I used more internet. I was really tired the whole time. I finally quit being sick, basically as soon as we left Israel, but I still haven’t gotten all my spunk back. Hopefully that will happen soon.
Israel was just really intense. The week at Livnot was jam packed with activity and opportunities to spend time with people. I had to walk the line between trying to rest enough to get well, and not missing out on the activities and social opportunities offered. After the week officially ended, I stayed on for a few days. Sunday morning was hectic as all the Miami crew was getting ready to leave and finally got out the door for Jerusalem. Carla went with them. I stayed behind and breathed a big sigh of relief to have some quiet time at last, where there was some hope for having a one-on-one conversation without being overheard or interrupted! I went for a gorgeous hike that afternoon with the people who remained—Gary and Mike, who were in the program with me, along with Shayna and Stephanie who worked there. It was a terrific little group!
Monday that same group (more or less) went to Tiberius and rented bikes, then biked partway around the Sea of Galilee. I stayed in Tiberius with Mike and Gary and we camped on the beach. It was, to date, the only time I’ve used the ground pad I brought—but I was the only one who got a good night’s sleep, so for that night at least it was well worth it!
On Tuesday I was planning to hike back to Tsfat with the guys, but I ended up not feeling well—and then we ran into another friend from Livnot on the bus to our hiking start point, and he was regretful that he couldn’t join because he had a rolling suitcase to get back to Tsfat. So I took advantage of the serendipity by switching his suitcase with my daypack and his pricier ticket with my short-distance ticket and share of the common lunch, and I headed back to Tsfat. I was a little sad when they arrived back raving about the marvelous views and all, but with respect to my health it was probably the right call.
Wednesday I left for Jerusalem early in the morning. I got there at 11:30 and spent a good hour trying to find Carla at the bus station. It wasn’t anybody’s fault; we didn’t know the place in advance and were waiting for each other in different places, twice. She had her phone, so I was able to call her from the cells of generous strangers. It wasn’t great, but we got out of there before 1, which was cool because not two hours later a bomb went off at the very spot where my bus had dropped me off!
We walked around the old city and spent the night in this place called Heritage House where you can get two free nights. And by “you” I mean “non-orthodox Jewish youths.” While I definitely liked the place, there were some uncomfortable moments based around some people judging whether others were Jewish enough. I didn’t actually feel any judgment myself, but I saw some pretty uncomfortable interactions between some of the staff and a lovely girl named Jen who was also on the Livnot program with us. Jen is an African American convert to Judaism, and while she is more spiritually Jewish than most of the non-orthodox people I’ve ever met, I bet she gets a LOT of unfortunate reactions from people who look more “Jewish”. Which is so sad—I really had no place being at Heritage House, but because I am white with brown hair and green eyes, I pass for more Jewish than Jen.
In general, being in Jerusalem was exhausting in that I felt like I was constantly being put into a box, and not necessarily one I actually fit into. The categories there were not native or foreign, or American, European, Asian—the categories were Jew, Christian and Muslim. I wasn’t sure whether I should go for Jew or for Christian (aka neutral in any conflict or discussion). Really, I am neither. So I was ready to leave Jerusalem.
The last weekend we spent in Efrat with Shayna’s family, and it was both completely awesome and completely exhausting! We did a full shomer Shabbas (aka no electricity, tearing TP, writing, electronics, musical instruments, carrying things, etc. from sundown Friday till Saturday night) and instead spent our time eating huge meals, singing and praying, and having one deep philosophical discussion after the next. Shayna’s family is overflowing with joy and song and love for one another, and it was inspiring to be around. Carla and I both saw traditions we’d like to incorporate into our future lives.
After that we spent a last day and 1.5 nights in Tel Aviv before heading to the airport to go to Greece. I got to spend more time with Maya, my friend who I met the last time I went to Israel (in 2003) and she’s always a ton of fun so I was really glad to be able to hang out. We all went to the beach together, and overall I just had an exceptionally nice day. Maya took me and Carla to South Tel Aviv, where she works with refugees from Sudan, Eritrea, and Ethiopia. It was pretty impressive to see the presence that she is in that community after being here for only about 7 months—one person after the next stopped her in the street to say hello and it was clear that she is much loved, which is unsurprising given her fabulousness. We learned a lot about the conflicts between immigrant and refugee communities and other Israelis, and it was a reminder of how much darkness there is in the world… and also of how much there is to be done to make it better. A little kindness can go such a long way.
Our flight to Greece was at 6:00 and though we left the house at 2:45, we did not get on that plane till about 6:10. Transportation to the airport was tight, and per usual there was some max-speed running while carrying all our luggage involved. But really the hold up was security at Ben Gurion. We got fully searched and frisked. And I am talking FRISKED. If I had been carrying a bullet in my underwear, it would have been found. They ended up walking us to the plane, which is good because we would have been pretty angry if we had missed our flight after arriving more than two hours in advance for it.
So that catches us up to the present… the only bummer about blogging so infrequently is that we’re missing out on the little vignettes! So I’ll try to work on some of those. Did I mention that we are on an 8 hour ferry ride? So now there is finally time to sit and hash out some good writing…
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Catch-up and The Kindness of Strangers
Ok, I'm running a little behind here. Allow me to take you back. Waaay back...
One of the things that's struck me most since arriving to Israel is the overwhelming sense of community. I realize this feeling of inclusion comes easily to me, largely because I am technically Jewish (that is, when I say my mom is Jewish, people respond, "then you're Jewish!"). I've had more than one person welcome me "home" (to Israel).
Despite that welcoming spirit, I had a hard time feeling comfortable during my first few weeks here. I felt at different times restless, lonely, or just not quite sure why I was traveling in the first place. I believed, somewhere, that those feelings would ultimately sort themselves out and that if I could be open to the experiences coming my way, the purpose would eventually emerge.
Finally, in the last couple of days around Tel Aviv before Audra arrived, things started to shift. It started with a great experience "couchsurfing" in Haifa, Israel where Eve (a girl from my Birthright trip) and I stayed with an Israeli-American couple and their adorable dog, Molly. Neither of us had couchsurfed before, and seeing Haifa through the eyes of locals was such a rich way to experience the city; we went to the "best" hummus place, which was this little hole in the wall we never would have explored otherwise, attended a gallery opening with one of our hosts who is a photography student at the art school in town, and cooked together while drinking wine and talking Middle Eastern politics.
The evening we got back to Tel Aviv, we met up with a friend and headed to a rooftop concert in south Tel Aviv, which felt like it could have taken place anywhere in the US (plenty of American folk and rock music being played) except for the silhouette of the Muslim mosque in the background and the chanting/praying that filled the city when the sun finally went down (see pic at left). It was a great slice of something that felt kind of like home.
After the concert, we (myself, Eve, and Jenna, another Birthright friend) had been invited to Shabbat dinner at the home of one of the Israeli soldiers from our trip, Oran. We headed to the suburbs and arrived at one of the most incredible homes I've ever seen...think Orinda on steroids. We met Oran's family (mother, father, three sisters, boyfriend, uncle, cousin) and all sat down together for one of the most extravagant and delicious meals I've ever eaten. Two kinds of soup, two salads, three types of vegetable, fish, steak, coleslaw, wine, bread, it just kept coming and coming. It was such an authentic privilege to join this family for their weekly ritual... Shabbat dinner is definitely a practice I'd like to bring back home with me in some form. Oh, did I mention there were four kinds of dessert plus tea at the end? What a treat. Here are some pictures of the dinner table, and one of Jenna, Eve, Oran and I)The following day, I went to grab some of my stuff from a hostel where I had been staying when a fellow traveler I'd met in the last week saw me and asked if I wanted to go sailing with him and some other travelers. I gathered a few details, thought about it for a minute (hm, sailing in the Mediterranean with fellow travelers on a beautiful sunny day in Tel Aviv? Um, yeah.) and decided to join them. I guess the guys had arranged with a local who runs sailing trips out ofthe Tel Aviv port, but there was a miscommunication about how many people could come on the boat (he thought it was 3, we ended up showing up with 6) so that fell through.
I just figured we'd take our snacks to the beach but the guys were determined to get out on the water. They disappeared for a few minutes and showed back up saying, "ok, we're joining this family on their boat". "Um, what?" I thought. So I went to chat with the woman whose boat we were supposedly just waltzing onto and she reminded me so much of mom! Middle-aged, very sweet woman, from the US who had married an Israeli. They were heading onto their boat (more like yacht) for the afternoon with their 22 year old son, his buddy from the army, a family friend and his girlfriend, and her sister. Debbie (the woman) had overheard the guys asking around about opportunities to pay for a sailboat ride and invited us to join them, free of charge. It sounds too good to be true, right?
For those of you who worry about me, I am as cautious and calculated as you hope I am, and I am not naive about the world and people's intentions. But I have also been absolutely blown away by the generosity and warmth that I've encountered here from total strangers. There is a far-reaching sense of community, family, and belonging in Israel the likes of which I've never experienced anywhere else. To summarize, we spent an amazing afternoon sailing with this family, sharing our stories, food, drinks, and space. When the afternoon ended, we exchanged contact information and Debbie said if we ever wanted to join them again, they sail every Saturday in Tel Aviv and offered us a place to stay if we ever come back to Haifa. It's incredibly refreshing and deeply affirming to remember that there are people who are willing to share what they have without expecting anything in return. It fortifies my hope and faith in the idea of global community and compassion in a way that I don't often experience at home. Here's a pic of me and one of the other Israeli soldiers who was swept up in the impromptu sailing trip.
Today, we (Eve, Audra, and I) left Tel Aviv and headed south to Eilat (Israel) where we planned to cross the border into Jordan to visit a popular tourist destination, Petra, an ancient city ofruins. We'd researched the border crossing a bit and knew ahead of time how much each taxi leg should cost, border fees, etc. I always get antsy around border crossings because there's so much shuffling of important documents, passports, money changing, people vying for your business, etc. They're usually uncomfortable transitions for me. However, we arrived at the Israel/Jordan border and were apparently just about the only people making the trip at the time. There were no lines anywhere and all the folks we dealt with were extremely helpful and friendly. When we got to the actual border, the guard commented on each of our names, telling us what they meant (if anything) in Hebrew--apparently mine means "She's cold" (I think the world for cold is something like "Carl" or "Carli") but then observed that Louise is something you put into tea, so we started joking about how my name means Cold/Hot, which inspired Eli (the guard) to break out in a stirring rendition of Katy Perry's "Hot N Cold" (lyrics here: http://artists.letssingit.com/katy-perry-lyrics-hot-n-cold-bb1cbz3 ) which we then all joined him in as we danced on the Israeli/Jordanian border.
On the Jordanian side, things were a little more serious, but every single guard and checkpoint officer warmly welcomed us to Jordan and the guy who sent our bags through the X-ray machine gave us a quick crash-course in basic Arabic (please, thank you, good morning, excuse me, etc.) When we got out into Jordan, we had to find a cab driver and negotiate a rate from the border to our hostel about 2 hours away in Petra. Again, sometimes an uncomfortable situation given language barriers, exchange rates, etc. Eve had been given the name of a particular cabbie, recommended by our hostel (which was recommended by Eric, the guy we stayed with in Haifa) As we walked out, there was a friendly and slightly timid looking cab driver holding up homemade sign that said "Eve Fine". Apparently the hostel had arranged for this particular cab driver to meet us at the border, which made the whole thing so much easier. He was so nice, welcoming us again to Jordan and facilitating the handoff to our next driver, confirming the rate we had agreed on with the new driver, who was equally adorable in his warmth and enthusiasm for welcoming us to his country and making us feel right at home with some American jams (English radio and an Eminem CD). We stopped a few times along the way at scenic viewpoints to get out, look aruond, and take pictures. When he dropped us off at the door of our hostel, he left us with his phone number and offered to drive us back to the border when we wanted to go for a 10 Dinar discount off what we'd paid on the way there.
At the hostel we were greeted with complimentary cups of tea and paid a few dollars for an amazing home-cooked meal. As the evening went on, one of the Jordanian hostel staff pulled out an instrument called an "Oud" (as far as I can transliterate), like a guitar but decidedly Middle-Eastern sounding. Audra led the way and pretty soon we were all dancing in the lobby...travelers, hostel staff, and visitors alike.
An English guy in our hostel tonight was telling a story about a friend of his who cycled all across the world, and never got robbed until he made it to the US...where he was robbed. Twice. A few people expressed the opinion that the US was probably one of the more dangerous places to travel but observed that you wouldn't think twice about visiting. One of them then apologized, fearing he'd offended me :) Anyways, it's interesting to compare your impressions of the place you live to other people's. I do think there is a certain cynicism or suspicion that we develop living in the US, especially in the urban centers, that if someone seems to be doing something nice for you there must be an ulterior motive. I'll repeat that I'm not careless, naive, or indiscriminately trusting when it comes to interacting with people. But it's nice to remember that sometimes hospitality and kindness are just that.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Mystic Tsfat
Carla and I left Eilat on Saturday for Tel Aviv and then took a bus the next morning to the Tsfat, which is known as the center of Jewish mysticism (Kabbalah). I did not know that beforehand. We chose this program called Livnot after googling "volunteer Israel" and sorting through the volunteer program for one that worked with our schedule and price range. And what did we get? A week in one of the most beautiful, ancient and historically significant cities in Israel, spending time in the beautiful outdoors, volunteering and living with other cool people, food, nice lodging, and the added (and unexpected) bonus of Kabbalah classes and spiritual growth!
First about the facilities: we're staying in a large room in a multi-veranda, split-level building that's 5-7 centuries old. Although there have clearly been major renovations (parts of the interior wall are old-looking stone, but other parts are plaster and tile). There are three of us in the room, me, Carla, and a 27 year old named Jessica. It's nice because it's practically a private room, and we all get up and go to bed at similar times so you don't have to wear earplugs or a mask like I was doing in the dorms we stayed in up to this point.
The rest of the building includes two common areas, a Jewish literature library, a kitchen, and a bunch more dorm rooms up and down various stone staircases. We are fed twice a day, and the food is pretty good.
On Sunday we checked in and had dinner and a kind of get-to-know-you session about our Jewishness. This ended up really bringing me sharply into brotherhood with the other group members because the discussion made touch on sensitive topics to the point of tears, and everyone was really nice and supportive in response. In brief, because few at this point probably know the whole story, I have a Jewish identity that is sharply out of proportion to my actual ethnic Jewishness (1/4 to 1/8, depending on whether you're going based on actual bloodlines or religion, or on Jewish law wherein the child of a Jewish mother is a Jew). In college I went on a Birthright trip to Israel mostly out of curiosity, and was surprised to come home with even more curiosity and a new ardor for the religious tradition. After over a year of effectively "being" Jewish, including six months as part of an Orthodox community, the balloon of my excitement was popped by being rejected one too many times from the community I had chosen to call my own. It's complicated because I understand the perspective of the people who pushed me away, but still it felt pretty awful.
Okay, so that's my story, and it's one I was really and truly not planning on delving into. I feel like I've been in an on-again, off-again relationship with Judaism for the past 8 years, and I was looking forward to this trip as a way to either end the tryst for good or seal the deal, so to speak. I was really expecting it to be the former, but from my first night in Tsfat I was feeling the infatuation tugging at my soul again.
Hope this whole explanation wasn't too gag-inducingly full of metaphors.
Anyway. Day one was introductions to each other and each other's Jewishness. Day two we volunteered in this park on top of the hill which was a Crusade-era citadel. We were re-enforcing stone walls in a park that is really beautiful and built up, with stone lined paths all around. Carla and I mixed cement, which was especially interesting because not two weeks earlier I had taken a knowledge test as part of my MSF interview during which I was given (and failed) about three questions about cement ratios and treatment. Better late than never? For the record, this is how you make cement. It's a catchy little jig that Carla and I made up (use whatever unit you have to work with):
Water.
Cement and a half.
Gravel gravel, sand sand!
Gravel gravel, sand sand!
We hung out in the afternoon, and in the evening our group tripled in size as a Hillel group from an American university joined us. I won't say too much more about the group except that it's been a very mixed bag-- some very cool people but also lots of drama, negativity, and overall immature behavior that makes me SO GRATEFUL to be the age I am and not be in college anymore.
The next day Carla and I painted the inside of an apartment. It was a little weird/frustrating because they made us do a not-so-meticulous job... for example, we were not allowed to pull out nails or patch holes or irregularities in the plaster; rather we just. had. to. paint. The best part was that the guy directing us, David (pronounced DAHvid) was really funny in his bossiness and spotty English. My favorite quote of the day was from one of our group members, Sergey, who said to David "you've been firing me all day!"
Another interesting thing about David-- who by the way is a full on Orthodox Jew, with side curls and a giant beard-- is that he speaks French fluently. I guess his parents immigrated from France. So when he'd come upon a word he didn't know in English (his English was, again, charmingly scant-- he kept saying "pink" instead of "paint") he'd speak to me in French. It's just interesting the situations in which knowing a language comes in useful!! Israel is such a melting pot.
Yesterday we also went for a beautiful hike, and we hiked all day today. Apparently there are only a few weeks a year when it's both sunny and green, and we hit it right on the money! It was raining all through last week, but so far this week it's absolutely perfect, green sunshine every day!
The only downside to this experience is that I have been sick the whole time. Carla had a normal cold and I caught it over the weekend, but instead of a single day of gentle coughing tapering off into wellness, my cough has gotten progressively worse and my head has continued to be stuffed up. But the worst part is that I've now had two days of total laryngitis!! I can hardly speak, and it's so frustrating!! Plus we keep having singalongs and I can't participate. I'm not sure what to do about it... it doesn't seem to be planning to let up any time soon.
Illness aside, this week has been pretty fabulous. It's great to have a break, be in one spot, and I love the people and the activities.
First about the facilities: we're staying in a large room in a multi-veranda, split-level building that's 5-7 centuries old. Although there have clearly been major renovations (parts of the interior wall are old-looking stone, but other parts are plaster and tile). There are three of us in the room, me, Carla, and a 27 year old named Jessica. It's nice because it's practically a private room, and we all get up and go to bed at similar times so you don't have to wear earplugs or a mask like I was doing in the dorms we stayed in up to this point.
The rest of the building includes two common areas, a Jewish literature library, a kitchen, and a bunch more dorm rooms up and down various stone staircases. We are fed twice a day, and the food is pretty good.
On Sunday we checked in and had dinner and a kind of get-to-know-you session about our Jewishness. This ended up really bringing me sharply into brotherhood with the other group members because the discussion made touch on sensitive topics to the point of tears, and everyone was really nice and supportive in response. In brief, because few at this point probably know the whole story, I have a Jewish identity that is sharply out of proportion to my actual ethnic Jewishness (1/4 to 1/8, depending on whether you're going based on actual bloodlines or religion, or on Jewish law wherein the child of a Jewish mother is a Jew). In college I went on a Birthright trip to Israel mostly out of curiosity, and was surprised to come home with even more curiosity and a new ardor for the religious tradition. After over a year of effectively "being" Jewish, including six months as part of an Orthodox community, the balloon of my excitement was popped by being rejected one too many times from the community I had chosen to call my own. It's complicated because I understand the perspective of the people who pushed me away, but still it felt pretty awful.
Okay, so that's my story, and it's one I was really and truly not planning on delving into. I feel like I've been in an on-again, off-again relationship with Judaism for the past 8 years, and I was looking forward to this trip as a way to either end the tryst for good or seal the deal, so to speak. I was really expecting it to be the former, but from my first night in Tsfat I was feeling the infatuation tugging at my soul again.
Hope this whole explanation wasn't too gag-inducingly full of metaphors.
Anyway. Day one was introductions to each other and each other's Jewishness. Day two we volunteered in this park on top of the hill which was a Crusade-era citadel. We were re-enforcing stone walls in a park that is really beautiful and built up, with stone lined paths all around. Carla and I mixed cement, which was especially interesting because not two weeks earlier I had taken a knowledge test as part of my MSF interview during which I was given (and failed) about three questions about cement ratios and treatment. Better late than never? For the record, this is how you make cement. It's a catchy little jig that Carla and I made up (use whatever unit you have to work with):
Water.
Cement and a half.
Gravel gravel, sand sand!
Gravel gravel, sand sand!
We hung out in the afternoon, and in the evening our group tripled in size as a Hillel group from an American university joined us. I won't say too much more about the group except that it's been a very mixed bag-- some very cool people but also lots of drama, negativity, and overall immature behavior that makes me SO GRATEFUL to be the age I am and not be in college anymore.
The next day Carla and I painted the inside of an apartment. It was a little weird/frustrating because they made us do a not-so-meticulous job... for example, we were not allowed to pull out nails or patch holes or irregularities in the plaster; rather we just. had. to. paint. The best part was that the guy directing us, David (pronounced DAHvid) was really funny in his bossiness and spotty English. My favorite quote of the day was from one of our group members, Sergey, who said to David "you've been firing me all day!"
Another interesting thing about David-- who by the way is a full on Orthodox Jew, with side curls and a giant beard-- is that he speaks French fluently. I guess his parents immigrated from France. So when he'd come upon a word he didn't know in English (his English was, again, charmingly scant-- he kept saying "pink" instead of "paint") he'd speak to me in French. It's just interesting the situations in which knowing a language comes in useful!! Israel is such a melting pot.
Yesterday we also went for a beautiful hike, and we hiked all day today. Apparently there are only a few weeks a year when it's both sunny and green, and we hit it right on the money! It was raining all through last week, but so far this week it's absolutely perfect, green sunshine every day!
The only downside to this experience is that I have been sick the whole time. Carla had a normal cold and I caught it over the weekend, but instead of a single day of gentle coughing tapering off into wellness, my cough has gotten progressively worse and my head has continued to be stuffed up. But the worst part is that I've now had two days of total laryngitis!! I can hardly speak, and it's so frustrating!! Plus we keep having singalongs and I can't participate. I'm not sure what to do about it... it doesn't seem to be planning to let up any time soon.
Illness aside, this week has been pretty fabulous. It's great to have a break, be in one spot, and I love the people and the activities.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Back in the (donkey) saddle
This morning—and by morning I mean noon because that’s when 2/3 of us woke up—we saw on the news that an 8.9 earthquake had hit off of Japan and caused tsunamis in Japan (and the tsunamis were aimed to hit Hawaii and even California in a number of hours). The footage was mind-blowing: a mass of rolling black (ocean water) coursing steadily across the beach, barriers, and finally farms as it pressed inland. Cars and even houses were swept into its flow. By now (some 6 hours later) the videos are even more insane. Ships being swished off course and getting stuck under a bridge. A major concrete bridge being demolished. A sea of roiling cars.
It seems like every time I leave the country for an extended time, something intense happens on the world stage. I was in France when Hurricane Katrina happened in 2005, and it was so crazy hearing about what was happening, and being so far away. This was particularly true since my sister was in Houston, which was really close to the action and was involved in the recovery (refugees were sent to the Astrodome, etc.)
Then in the summer of 2009 when Carla and I went to South America, Michael Jackson died basically when we were in the airport to leave. Even though that’s not exactly a “disaster” it was a big piece of news that Americans were following closely, and we were far away from it all. And now this. I feel so sorry for the Japanese tourists I met just a few days ago—because this is all taking place in their home, and they’re far away, and are probably terrified about what may have happened to their homes, friends, and family. What if they no longer have a home to go back to? Are they grateful to have been spared, or sorry to have been away from their communities during this crucial time?
Putting that aside for a moment, I will give a quick synopsis of my last almost-week.
I arrived in Israel about six days ago. That is unbelievable!! I can’t believe how much has taken place in just six days! The first thing I did after I arrived was find Carla in Jaffa, near Tel Aviv. Then we got to catch up on the last few weeks since we’d been able to talk last, while walking toward Tel Aviv to Maya’s place. It was great to see Maya! It had been over a year since I saw her last. Maya and I met on a Birthright trip in 2003, and we have been long-distance friends ever since. In college I would often join her family for holidays at their home in LA, and since graduating I have seen her in Berkeley (where she went to college) and in New York, where she recently lived for two years.
Carla’s new friend Eve joined us (they just finished a Birthright trip together) and the four of us went out for dinner and dancing to celebrate Maya’s birthday the next day. Even though it was supposedly 7 hours earlier on my body’s clock, I had slept maybe 5 hours in the previous 36 hours, and that was in small increments, so I was really havig to make an effort to stay awake and cheerful. We went to bed in the wee hours, after bar hopping with some of Maya’s friends who work in the foreign service.
Sunday we woke up at noon and went through the market on our way to the beach, where we picnicked, talked and napped for a few hours. We had tea in a nice café before going home and getting ready for another little birthday party at more friends’ house.
After all that I had another late night, this time probably due to jet lag. I was in bed by 1 but probably didn’t sleep till 4… and then we woke up at 6:30 to catch a bus to Eilat, in the south of Israel. I slept some on the bus. In Eilat we took a cab to the border, crossed into Jordan, and took a private car a few hours to Wadi Musa, the town right by Petra. That night we ended up befriending some English girls who sold us half of their 2-day tickets (tickets to Petra are 50 JD for one day and 55 for two, aka $70-77. Really expensive, but there are no controls against different people using the same ticket on subsequent days, so we were able to pay about $35 each for a day there). We also got chummy with some of the hostel owners when we started a dance party to go with their music making.
Our day in Petra was intense. We woke up at 6:30 and were in the park by 7:30, and we walked practically the whole time until 5:30 that night. My feet were really unhappy by the end. Petra was amazing and it was so good that we went that day (and only that day) because the next day it was windy and cold and everything was blanketed in fog—the park wouldn’t have been as pretty.
On Wednesday we slept in, had a chill morning, and then took a private car to a hostel in Dana Nature Reserve, which was a beautiful canyon. We hiked that evening for some 4 hours (feet were angry again) and got back just as the light was fading and the weather was getting really cold and windy. The hostel there was even more awesome than the first, so we stayed up late and had another dance party. The next day the weather was really intimidating, so we didn’t do much but get in the car and go back to Israel. That was yesterday. And we ended up partying till 4:30 this morning with amazing Israelis!! It was one of the top 5 party nights of my life! Then I woke up at 9 this morning and went to see Eilat again by day, and then Carla and I went to a beach that was supposed to be good for snorkeling, but it turned out to be really, really cold so though I went snorkeling for some 20 minutes, mostly we just sat on the beach and relaxed.
Tomorrow we will go back to Tel Aviv. Even though the pace of our trip has been fast, I’m loving being able to see so many places!
It seems like every time I leave the country for an extended time, something intense happens on the world stage. I was in France when Hurricane Katrina happened in 2005, and it was so crazy hearing about what was happening, and being so far away. This was particularly true since my sister was in Houston, which was really close to the action and was involved in the recovery (refugees were sent to the Astrodome, etc.)
Then in the summer of 2009 when Carla and I went to South America, Michael Jackson died basically when we were in the airport to leave. Even though that’s not exactly a “disaster” it was a big piece of news that Americans were following closely, and we were far away from it all. And now this. I feel so sorry for the Japanese tourists I met just a few days ago—because this is all taking place in their home, and they’re far away, and are probably terrified about what may have happened to their homes, friends, and family. What if they no longer have a home to go back to? Are they grateful to have been spared, or sorry to have been away from their communities during this crucial time?
Putting that aside for a moment, I will give a quick synopsis of my last almost-week.
I arrived in Israel about six days ago. That is unbelievable!! I can’t believe how much has taken place in just six days! The first thing I did after I arrived was find Carla in Jaffa, near Tel Aviv. Then we got to catch up on the last few weeks since we’d been able to talk last, while walking toward Tel Aviv to Maya’s place. It was great to see Maya! It had been over a year since I saw her last. Maya and I met on a Birthright trip in 2003, and we have been long-distance friends ever since. In college I would often join her family for holidays at their home in LA, and since graduating I have seen her in Berkeley (where she went to college) and in New York, where she recently lived for two years.
Carla’s new friend Eve joined us (they just finished a Birthright trip together) and the four of us went out for dinner and dancing to celebrate Maya’s birthday the next day. Even though it was supposedly 7 hours earlier on my body’s clock, I had slept maybe 5 hours in the previous 36 hours, and that was in small increments, so I was really havig to make an effort to stay awake and cheerful. We went to bed in the wee hours, after bar hopping with some of Maya’s friends who work in the foreign service.
Sunday we woke up at noon and went through the market on our way to the beach, where we picnicked, talked and napped for a few hours. We had tea in a nice café before going home and getting ready for another little birthday party at more friends’ house.
After all that I had another late night, this time probably due to jet lag. I was in bed by 1 but probably didn’t sleep till 4… and then we woke up at 6:30 to catch a bus to Eilat, in the south of Israel. I slept some on the bus. In Eilat we took a cab to the border, crossed into Jordan, and took a private car a few hours to Wadi Musa, the town right by Petra. That night we ended up befriending some English girls who sold us half of their 2-day tickets (tickets to Petra are 50 JD for one day and 55 for two, aka $70-77. Really expensive, but there are no controls against different people using the same ticket on subsequent days, so we were able to pay about $35 each for a day there). We also got chummy with some of the hostel owners when we started a dance party to go with their music making.
Our day in Petra was intense. We woke up at 6:30 and were in the park by 7:30, and we walked practically the whole time until 5:30 that night. My feet were really unhappy by the end. Petra was amazing and it was so good that we went that day (and only that day) because the next day it was windy and cold and everything was blanketed in fog—the park wouldn’t have been as pretty.
On Wednesday we slept in, had a chill morning, and then took a private car to a hostel in Dana Nature Reserve, which was a beautiful canyon. We hiked that evening for some 4 hours (feet were angry again) and got back just as the light was fading and the weather was getting really cold and windy. The hostel there was even more awesome than the first, so we stayed up late and had another dance party. The next day the weather was really intimidating, so we didn’t do much but get in the car and go back to Israel. That was yesterday. And we ended up partying till 4:30 this morning with amazing Israelis!! It was one of the top 5 party nights of my life! Then I woke up at 9 this morning and went to see Eilat again by day, and then Carla and I went to a beach that was supposed to be good for snorkeling, but it turned out to be really, really cold so though I went snorkeling for some 20 minutes, mostly we just sat on the beach and relaxed.
Tomorrow we will go back to Tel Aviv. Even though the pace of our trip has been fast, I’m loving being able to see so many places!
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Saga Continues
Well friends, as humans tend to do, we've decided to take something good and make it better. That is, we're scaling up. Instead of 5 weeks, we'll be traveling together for 3 months. Instead of 1 continent, we'll be covering 2. Instead of 2 countries, our tentative itinerary has us crossing through at least 7.
If you liked "Carla and Audra do South America", you're sure to love the bigger, better, even more efficiently-packed, and even less pre-planned "East We Go!"
Some quick background to get you oriented:
Carla originally conceived of the idea as a follow-up to her 10-day Taglit-Birthright trip to Israel, which was scheduled for Feb. 13-23rd. As she is taking a year off from work, Carla decided to extend (really, forego) her return flight from the Birthright trip and use the opportunity to visit Greece and Turkey. While Carla was semi-searching for a Travelmate, Audra's plans were changing and evolving of their own accord...
After leaving her job with GSI Environmental in Houston for a 9-week volunteer opportunity via Engineers Without Borders in Nigeria, Audra was faced with the prospect of re-entering the work world, laying plans for a return to grad school, or...maybe something else? To Carla's surprise and delight, Audra asked if she could join the adventure...and the scheming began.
While discussing timelines, Audra mentioned that she had a wedding to attend in Hawaii on June 2nd..."so I'll have to be back by then" she explained. As a passing thought, she also mentioned that her friend, Joe, was going to be working in Nepal, at the Mt. Everest Base Camp, in the Spring/Summer months and that he'd suggested she come to visit. In a moment of revelation and glory, they looked at each other (proverbially, because I think we were on the phone), connected the dots, and the idea of a "round (more than half of) the world" trip was born.
At present, Carla is hanging out in Tel Aviv, decompressing from the 10-day whirlwind of Birthright and seeing the city at a more leisurely pace while Audra finishes up an interview in New York and gathers up all the things that Carla forgot :)
Audra arrives on Saturday!
I promise the next blog post won't be written in the third person. Stay tuned!
Friday, August 21, 2009
The adventure continues
Audra:
To anyone who's still reading this: sorry we never finished the Brazil stories! To sum it up, Rio continued to be pretty sketchy (I went to a place called Lapa where not only did a random guy try to make out with me without so much as a hello, and as I walked through a crowd after two other blondies, dozens of men grabbed at us and said stupid lines in bad English, but also I saw a group of obviously drugged and huffing ten-year-olds, one of whom stuck her hand in Eric's pocket and just wandered off in a daze when he pulled it back out), but at least the sun came out! Then Carla left and went back to Argentina in a burst of great airplane karma. Then I went home and repacked and saw friends for 48 hours before flying to Seattle to prove, in case anyone doubted it, that I am one of the principle causes of global warming. Oh, and to kayak for 8 days in the lovely San Juan Islands between Washington and Canada.
Kayaking was awesome, and more importantly, I got to catch up on sleep, relax, mentally process the whirlwind that has been my life for the past several months, and read and journal. I came back to the mainland in a much better state of mind, and after a few sunny days in Seattle, I left with my buddy Tom to drive his car to his new home in Washington, DC. So despite the fact that this blog is supposedly about my trip with Carla in South America, certain events have merited description and I will continue, for the moment, to update it.
Story one: Creepy crawlies.
The first night on the road, Tom and I camped in a national forest in northern Idaho. We didn't set up a tent, just slept out. Sleeping out is a mixed bag. On one hand, you get to breathe fresher air, see the stars, and generally feel closer to nature. On the other hand, nature is sketchy, and you are subject to bugs, rodents (I once had a mouse run over my face, no joke), and...
In the pitch black of the wee hours, I sleepily turned over, and my hand touched something wet and slimy on my ground pad, near where I was going to put my face. This woke me up a little. Then I debated with myself whether I wanted to know what it was. After all, if I just put my face somewhere else and went to sleep, maybe it would go away (assuming there WAS something and it wasn't my imagination). If I dealt with it, I would surely wake up and either have a hard time going back to sleep (if there was nothing) or have a REALLY hard time going back to sleep (if there was something). I put my hand back in the danger zone and sure enough, cold and slimy.
I was definitely awake after that. I sat up and again debated whether I wanted to know what had taken up residence on my ground pad. Finally I decided that it couldn't be anything deadly, so I might as well. I turned on the flashlight, and saw a slug that was approximately three inches long by one inch thick and one inch tall, chilling on my ground pad in a pool of slime.
I threw it away with a stick and eventually got back to sleep (turned the other way on my pad), and in the morning, lo and behold, there was a DIFFERENT slug at the formerly-head-end of my ground pad, and this one was at least six inches long. I have never seen such an enormous slug in my life. Slugs were all over the ground where we were. It was gross.
Story Two: Canada.
As a background to this story, I have gotten into the habit of calling Canada Canadia (pronounced canAYdee-a). I don't know exactly why I do this; it's sort of like saying "the internets," with the added benefit of making it seem like Canada is not important enough for me to get its name right.
So Tom and I took a 14 mile hike in Glacier National Park (note: this park is SUPERB. You must go.) and came out 5 miles down the road from our car. We didn't want to walk anymore, so we thumbed and got picked up by a Canadian fellow, with whom I proceeded to have the following conversation:
Me: Where are you from?
Him: Well, I live in Alberta, just over the border.
Me: Oh, is Alberta that close? Oh wait, Alberta is a state, not a city.
Him: State? Now you sound like an American!
Me: (trying to recover and sound smart) Right, it's a province. Well, I bet I can name all the provinces and territories! (I then did so, I only missed one)
Him: You just missed the Nunevut
Me: Right, Nunevut. So, as you go east in [Canada], does the land flatten out?
Him: (pause. pause) um, yeah, more towards Saskatchewan...
Anyway, he dropped us off and we got in our car, and after about 5 minutes, Tom said to me, "By the way, when you asked that guy about the land flattening out, do you realize you called it Canadia?"
I. Was. Mortified. I hadn't done it on purpose, or even noticed that I had called our neighboring country by the wrong name. Ugh. I bet that guy had a good story to tell the wife and kids, about some American who could name 12 out of 13 provinces and territories, but not the country itself.
Story Three: I'll make this brief, but I went to the concert of the band of an old friend I haven't contacted in years, and surprised him, and the band was the most unbelievably fun bluegrass show I've ever been to! It was better than Ozomatli in terms of energy and skill and crowd craziness. And I got invited to finish their tour with them, so I'm going back to Montana for two more days of crazy music and band tour living! I will have to report on what that is like, so stay tuned...
To anyone who's still reading this: sorry we never finished the Brazil stories! To sum it up, Rio continued to be pretty sketchy (I went to a place called Lapa where not only did a random guy try to make out with me without so much as a hello, and as I walked through a crowd after two other blondies, dozens of men grabbed at us and said stupid lines in bad English, but also I saw a group of obviously drugged and huffing ten-year-olds, one of whom stuck her hand in Eric's pocket and just wandered off in a daze when he pulled it back out), but at least the sun came out! Then Carla left and went back to Argentina in a burst of great airplane karma. Then I went home and repacked and saw friends for 48 hours before flying to Seattle to prove, in case anyone doubted it, that I am one of the principle causes of global warming. Oh, and to kayak for 8 days in the lovely San Juan Islands between Washington and Canada.
Kayaking was awesome, and more importantly, I got to catch up on sleep, relax, mentally process the whirlwind that has been my life for the past several months, and read and journal. I came back to the mainland in a much better state of mind, and after a few sunny days in Seattle, I left with my buddy Tom to drive his car to his new home in Washington, DC. So despite the fact that this blog is supposedly about my trip with Carla in South America, certain events have merited description and I will continue, for the moment, to update it.
Story one: Creepy crawlies.
The first night on the road, Tom and I camped in a national forest in northern Idaho. We didn't set up a tent, just slept out. Sleeping out is a mixed bag. On one hand, you get to breathe fresher air, see the stars, and generally feel closer to nature. On the other hand, nature is sketchy, and you are subject to bugs, rodents (I once had a mouse run over my face, no joke), and...
In the pitch black of the wee hours, I sleepily turned over, and my hand touched something wet and slimy on my ground pad, near where I was going to put my face. This woke me up a little. Then I debated with myself whether I wanted to know what it was. After all, if I just put my face somewhere else and went to sleep, maybe it would go away (assuming there WAS something and it wasn't my imagination). If I dealt with it, I would surely wake up and either have a hard time going back to sleep (if there was nothing) or have a REALLY hard time going back to sleep (if there was something). I put my hand back in the danger zone and sure enough, cold and slimy.
I was definitely awake after that. I sat up and again debated whether I wanted to know what had taken up residence on my ground pad. Finally I decided that it couldn't be anything deadly, so I might as well. I turned on the flashlight, and saw a slug that was approximately three inches long by one inch thick and one inch tall, chilling on my ground pad in a pool of slime.
I threw it away with a stick and eventually got back to sleep (turned the other way on my pad), and in the morning, lo and behold, there was a DIFFERENT slug at the formerly-head-end of my ground pad, and this one was at least six inches long. I have never seen such an enormous slug in my life. Slugs were all over the ground where we were. It was gross.
Story Two: Canada.
As a background to this story, I have gotten into the habit of calling Canada Canadia (pronounced canAYdee-a). I don't know exactly why I do this; it's sort of like saying "the internets," with the added benefit of making it seem like Canada is not important enough for me to get its name right.
So Tom and I took a 14 mile hike in Glacier National Park (note: this park is SUPERB. You must go.) and came out 5 miles down the road from our car. We didn't want to walk anymore, so we thumbed and got picked up by a Canadian fellow, with whom I proceeded to have the following conversation:
Me: Where are you from?
Him: Well, I live in Alberta, just over the border.
Me: Oh, is Alberta that close? Oh wait, Alberta is a state, not a city.
Him: State? Now you sound like an American!
Me: (trying to recover and sound smart) Right, it's a province. Well, I bet I can name all the provinces and territories! (I then did so, I only missed one)
Him: You just missed the Nunevut
Me: Right, Nunevut. So, as you go east in [Canada], does the land flatten out?
Him: (pause. pause) um, yeah, more towards Saskatchewan...
Anyway, he dropped us off and we got in our car, and after about 5 minutes, Tom said to me, "By the way, when you asked that guy about the land flattening out, do you realize you called it Canadia?"
I. Was. Mortified. I hadn't done it on purpose, or even noticed that I had called our neighboring country by the wrong name. Ugh. I bet that guy had a good story to tell the wife and kids, about some American who could name 12 out of 13 provinces and territories, but not the country itself.
Story Three: I'll make this brief, but I went to the concert of the band of an old friend I haven't contacted in years, and surprised him, and the band was the most unbelievably fun bluegrass show I've ever been to! It was better than Ozomatli in terms of energy and skill and crowd craziness. And I got invited to finish their tour with them, so I'm going back to Montana for two more days of crazy music and band tour living! I will have to report on what that is like, so stay tuned...
Friday, July 31, 2009
Dangerous things
Don't worry, Mom, apparently the most dangerous thing around here is lung cancer. Brazil has the most in-your-face warnings on their cigarette ads and packages! So right under the brand's tagline (so smooth, etc) comes a message like: "Cigarettes cause miscarriages." And then a picture of a crumpled fetus in a bottle. Or "Impotence" coupled with a picture of a naked man whose unmentionables are obscured by a hand giving a thumbs down. Oh, the double entendre.
What's apparently NOT as dangerous as it seems: favelas. We went on a tour to the favelas and it was SO INTERESTING!!! A favela is basically an unplanned city, where people just showed up and started slapping together houses. As a result you see houses on top of houses (people sell their roofs to other people to build) and endless expanses of hillside covered with randomly laid out, super narrow streets and stairs. There are virtually no recreational spaces. Garbage collects in what could otherwise be considered open areas. Rooftops are graced with large blue water storage containers that either collect rainwater or are illegally hooked to city water sources. Electric lines are a giant mass of wires, as people who don't want to pay for electricity just hook their own wire to the source and guide it to their residence.
There are 900+ favelas in the state of Rio de Janeiro, home to many millions of people. The one we visited brings in $4 million in drug money every month. Still, our guide stressed that the majority of people living in favelas are not gun-toting ten year olds and crack addicts, but just regular people too poor to live elsewhere, who commute into Ipanema and Copacabana to work as waiters, hotel staff, etc.
The favela tour was one of my favorite parts of Rio! Afterwards, we went to a football match, and then to a club until 5:30 in the morning. What stood out about the club, besides the fact that it was more expensive than even a similar place in SF, was that the men are so. agressive. The routine is "What's your name? Where are you from? Can I kiss you? Why not?" often followed by an attempt to kiss you anyway. Even when I chose the answer, "because I'm married."
What's apparently NOT as dangerous as it seems: favelas. We went on a tour to the favelas and it was SO INTERESTING!!! A favela is basically an unplanned city, where people just showed up and started slapping together houses. As a result you see houses on top of houses (people sell their roofs to other people to build) and endless expanses of hillside covered with randomly laid out, super narrow streets and stairs. There are virtually no recreational spaces. Garbage collects in what could otherwise be considered open areas. Rooftops are graced with large blue water storage containers that either collect rainwater or are illegally hooked to city water sources. Electric lines are a giant mass of wires, as people who don't want to pay for electricity just hook their own wire to the source and guide it to their residence.
There are 900+ favelas in the state of Rio de Janeiro, home to many millions of people. The one we visited brings in $4 million in drug money every month. Still, our guide stressed that the majority of people living in favelas are not gun-toting ten year olds and crack addicts, but just regular people too poor to live elsewhere, who commute into Ipanema and Copacabana to work as waiters, hotel staff, etc.
The favela tour was one of my favorite parts of Rio! Afterwards, we went to a football match, and then to a club until 5:30 in the morning. What stood out about the club, besides the fact that it was more expensive than even a similar place in SF, was that the men are so. agressive. The routine is "What's your name? Where are you from? Can I kiss you? Why not?" often followed by an attempt to kiss you anyway. Even when I chose the answer, "because I'm married."
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