Visa... Check!

On Tuesday, I went to the Israeli Consulate to get my student visa (holla!).

I've been to Israel several times before, so I shouldn't have been surprised with the amount of security that we had to go through just to get to the office.

After checking in at the front desk, my mom and I put all of our belongings in a locker (besides my visa documents and ID). We were sent upstairs, asked a few questions, went through some more security checks, and finally reached the consular services.

"Hi! I'm here to obtain a student visa. I'm studying in Israel!" I said enthusiastically. I think I secretly hoped for a "good for you!" or at least a little smile (after all, I'm a fellow MOT*). Instead, he reached for my documents and said, "ok."

I quickly decided that I shouldn't practice my Hebrew with him. Somehow I don't think he would be impressed with my verb conjugations or the various articles of clothing that I can name.

He looked over my carefully-prepared documents for a few minutes, looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders a little and said, "Ok."

I watched him do a few more things behind the desk. During this time, I was thinking about how FINE Israeli men are. This guy had the typical dark, curly hair, dark eyes, and Mediterranean-tanned skin... a true semetic-stallion, as I like to call them.

After he stamped a few more things, he said that I was done, and should receive all of my documents in the mail. I didn't realize that I had to leave my passport. In a last-ditch effort to have a positive interaction, I flashed my best smile and said, "please don't lose my passport!"

He looked up at me with his dark, sexy eyes (and expressionless face) and said, "Ok."

I think he liked me.


*MOT = Member of the Tribe

Off The Grid

And by "off-the-grid," I mean I'm currently living at a stunningly gorgeous summer camp in Simi Valley, California, with pristine facilities and a food selection that's better than most hotels I've stayed at (hello, waffle bar). My friends think that it's a hippie camp where we hold hands, meditate, practice yoga, and sing songs of peace. That might be half-right.

Ok, but seriously. This summer, I have the privilege of working as a program fellow at the Brandeis Collegiate Institute (BCI), a program of the American Jewish University in California. I participated in this program in the summer of 2009, and consider it one of the most exciting, challenging, and transformative experiences that I've ever participated in (check out here, if you're interested in my experience or incredibly nerdy scrapbooking skills).

BCI has been described as a "summer camp for adults," as it brings together young Jewish adults, ages 18-26, from all around the world. While there are some parallels to Jewish summer camp (like bumper-stickered nalgene bottles, dirty birkenstocks, and a plethora of random food allergies), this place is so much more.

BCI is a 26-day program in which participants are immersed in Jewish learning, culture, and community, with an emphasis on the arts. Referred to as a "laboratory for living Judaism," BCI is a place for participants to explore their own Jewish identity in a pluralistic and welcoming setting.

Ok... how do I describe this in words that doesn't make it sound like I'm drinking the proverbial kool-aid?

Jewish life is fun, rich, exciting, challenging, beautiful, diverse, deep, creative, complicated, and inspiring; BCI exemplifies this in so many ways. This year, we have participants from all over the U.S., Canada, India, Israel, Argentina, Hungary, Russia, Ukraine, and Switzerland. We have participants who identify as orthodox, reform, non-denominational, religious, traditional, humanist, conservative, and atheist. We have participants who grew up in tight-knit, isolated Jewish communities, participants who grew up as the only Jewish person in their town, and participants who come from places where it's very difficult to be Jewish.

Our staff is as diverse as our participants. We have artists, rabbinical students, cantors and other Jewish professionals who share their talents in different and creative ways. Throughout the summer, we have visiting scholars, musicians, actors/actresses, yoga teachers, and even sexual health educators, vegan bakers, and recovering addicts from a local Jewish rehab center. While the teaching and learning is diverse, it is all through a Jewish lens, illustrating the richness and complexity of what it means to be Jewish.

Don't get me wrong, all this crunchy-granola-goodness has its challenges, too. We work really hard, and the participants are consistently pushed to challenge themselves. It can be tense and frustrating at times. But it's entirely worth it to be a part of the magic of this place.

But speaking of crunchy-granola-goodness, I have to go get ready for the sweat lodge tonight. Namaste.

Nomadic Living

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote in Lord of the Rings that "not all who wander are lost," a phrase that became popular for outdoor/adventure enthusiasts and those annoying "Life is Good" t-shirts. Sure, not all who wander are lost... but some are.

The past month has been a pattern of packing, going, un-packing, staying, re-packing, and going again. I took myself on a two-week road trip, spent a weekend packing up my life in State College, and am currently sitting in the Atlanta airport en route to work at a summer camp in L.A. (don't ask me why I booked such an ass-backward flight).

Let me say more before this starts to sound like a ridiculous humblebrag. (PS- I just learned what a "humblebrag" is... hilarious). I am extremely thankful for this "time off" to be visiting friends and taking time for myself. But I'm sure my busy schedule is a product of my inability to sit still, my reluctance to just relax. I'm afraid that if I stop for too long, I'll think too much about what I'm doing and where I'm going... and I won't have the answers.

It's a strange feeling for me to pack my life up into boxes, not sure when I'll be opening them again. I won't have a feeling of permanence for a while. While many of my friends are getting engaged, buying houses, adopting dogs and making other long-term commitments, I feel as if I'm just floating around from place to place.

But I guess my wandering isn't aimless. I'm not really lost. I have a sense of where I'm going, and the rest I'll figure out along the way.

For now I'll just enjoy sitting at the Atlanta airport, eating my medicore, over-priced, breakfast while watching people go ape-shit when they miss their flights. Life is good.

Too-Huge World

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?
It's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye.
But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies." -Jack Kerouac

 

FAQ, part 2

Here are some more Frequently Asked Questions. Find the first ones here.


When are you moving to Jerusalem?
I'll be arriving in Israel on August 16th but won't actually be moving in until the 26th.


What are you doing until you move?
I just finished up my job at Penn State Hillel on May 13th. From mid-June to mid-July, I have the privilege of working as a program fellow at the Brandeis Collegiate Institute in Simi Valley, California (more to come on this amazing program).
In the off-time, I'll be living at home with my parents, doing the following:

• Visiting friends.
• Studying Hebrew (using a combination of a workbook, Rosetta Stone, stalking my Israeli friends' facebook statuses, and these).
• Cooking with my dad (this will be a challenge, as I have been a vegetarian for the past 10 months or so, much to his chagrin. He refuses to eat any of my "hippie crap.")
• Getting back into running.
• Catching up on some TV smut that I've missed, including the occasional Hoarders, My Strange Addiction and other shows profiling socially deviant people. 

You're moving halfway around the world for a year! Are you scared?

Shitless. Next question.

How do your parents feel about  you moving?

My parents are being very supportive of me. They are even coming to visit halfway through my program (their first time in Israel!).

However, my mom is afraid I'm going to bring home a guy that looks like the first picture.

My dad is afraid I'll bring home a guy that looks like the 2nd picture (sans the political views).

Who do you think I'll bring home? 

           

Also, I've been noticing is a similar reaction upon telling some people that I'm going to Israel, which is one of fear. There is an immediate, "be safe," or a recoil, and then the question, "is it safe there?" I've also received a few, "are you scared to go there?" or "is this the best time to go there?"

I can't blame people for asking this, especially with all of the recent middle east news coverage. Living in America, our perception of Israel is distorted, as all that we see on the news are the bad things: the wars, the suicide bombings, the conflicts surrounding the peace process.

The reality is that Israel is a thriving and vibrant country. A very young country, Israel has already contributed so much to the world (check out some of these things here). Tel Aviv is consistently voted as one of the top cities in the world, dubbed the "miami of the middle east." Ok, I could go on and on about how awesome Israel is (maybe a later post).

Like any other country, Israel also has problems. Some major. Like the fact that it's surrounded by countries that want to wipe it off the map. It's unsettling, but it's the reality. So, bad things do happen, and things are uncertain, just like anywhere else.

So am I scared to go? I'm scared to move halfway around the world and live in a new place with new people and a new culture. It's a risk. But life's about taking them, and there's no place I'd rather spend time than the beautiful little country of Israel.

I'll be living HERE...

Awesome.

And Let Your Best Be For Your Friend...

After my best friend's bridal shower yesterday, I am inspired to post this excerpt from one of my favorite books, The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. The chapter is titled: "On Friendship."

"Your friend is your needs answered.She is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.And she is your board and your fireside.For you come to her with your hunger, and you seek her for peace.

When your friend speaks her mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."And when she is silent your heart ceases not to listen to her heart;For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.When you part from your friend, you grieve not;For that which you love most in her may be clearer in her absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.If she must know the ebb of your tide, let her know its flood also.For what is your friend that you should seek her with hours to kill?Seek her always with hours to live.For it is her to fill your need, but not your emptiness.And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."

I try to put on Mackenzie's corsage for her, as she tries to kill me. How special. 

 Mackenzie and her tiny bridesmaids!

"To New Beginnings!"

At the suggestion of a friend, I decided to post the story behind why my friends and I love to toast to "new beginnings":

Last summer, I took a little vacation out to L.A. to visit some friends and see the city. Since my dear friend and hostess had to work, I was perfectly fine figuring out the city on my own (including taking public transportation in LA; apparently a pretty big faux pas).

I went to shabbat dinner, where I started chatting with this guy about LA. He was telling me about the best things to see and do, and when I mentioned that I didn't have a car, he said he was going to see the new exhibit at The Getty museum the next day. He asked if I wanted to go along.

Now, color-me-naive, but was it totally bogus for me to think that a guy just wants to see the new exhibit at the art museum, like he said? I mean, c'mon guys, right? ... guys?

For confidentiality purposes, we'll call him "Frank." But to be honest, I never caught his last name anyway. And he's not on facebook, because it's just "too mainstream." Right, one of those.

After looking at artwork for an hour or so, we sat down in the food court, where Frank revealed a bottle of wine. Awkward small-talk ensued, and then things took a turn for the worse:

Frank: "So, I guess the elephant in the room is 'what's the age difference between us?'"

Elephant in the room? I thought the elephant in the room was "why did you bring a bottle of wine to a museum at 2 in the afternoon."

Me: "Oh, I'm uh, I'm 24."

Frank: **smug laugh** "That's the exact age difference between my ex-girlfriend and me."

Ya don't say.

Me: **Awkward, uncomfortable giggle**

Frank: "I'm actually 36. How do you feel about that?"

How do I feel about that? Buddy, I could care less, I'm just trying to look at some artwork.

He then proceeds to raise a glass, stare at me for what seemed like 5 minutes, and then made a toast:

"To new beginnings."

I quickly finished (ok, chugged) my glass of wine and politely made up a reason to leave. Don't get me wrong, he was really nice and it was thoughtful of him to take me to the museum and all. But, I know a red flag when I see one (though, one could argue that I don't see red flags, which is how I ended up in this situation in the first place).

Out of this delightfully awkward situation, a new toast is born, that is applicable to pretty much any life situation.

Are you getting engaged? To new beginnings!

Did you land a dream job? To new beginnings!

Are you taking a girl that is visiting your city (for only a week) to an art museum? To new beginnings!

On a final note: the Getty museum was awesome. I hope to go back and explore it further one day (sans Frank and his suggestive bottle of wine).

Sha-LOM

This weekend, I started using the Rosetta Stone program in Hebrew.

First, a little background. I attended "hebrew school" at my synagogue when I was in elementary/junior high school, where I learned how to read Hebrew characters and sound them out. This was mainly in preparation for my bat mitzvah when I was 13.

For my non-Jewish readers, a bat mitzvah is one of the most significant milestones in the Jewish tradition, where a 13 year old is called to the Torah and publicly welcomed into the adult Jewish community. In other words, you are placed in front of your friends and family at the most awkward stage of your life (ie: acne, braces, huge eyebrows) and asked to chant in a language that you don't quite understand (this is particularly scarring for boys, as their voice crack with each high note). In most cases, a huge celebration ensues, involving kosher "pigs-in-a-blanket," organized line dances led by an overly peppy DJ, and my personal favorite, the notorious "coke/pepsi game."

But I digress.

Back to the Hebrew. So, like many American Jews, I know how to sound out Hebrew characters. I can read you a line of Hebrew, but wouldn't be able to tell you what it means. When I pray, I don't really know what I'm saying. You might be thinking, "isn't that fairly useless?" You would be correct.

So...as I prepare to move to Israel for the year, I am doing everything that I can to learn both biblical and modern Hebrew. I am coupling Rosetta stone with another modern Hebrew program.

Rosetta Stone is..... interesting. The program tries to immerse you in a language from the very beginning. So instead of learning the basics first, you are taught how to say basic words that are coupled with intentionally-politically-correct photos. It is supposed to be as if you are a child, learning to speak from seeing the things around you.

Okay. So, after lesson one, I can now say the following phrases:

The dog eats.

The girl runs.

This is a green book.

This is not a doctor.

Needless to say, I am skeptical.

Furthermore, there is a component of speaking into a headset. The program follows your voice and determines if you are speaking correctly. If you get the phrase wrong, you hear a frustrating bell chime (think somewhere between "ding-dong" and "womp-womp").

Sometimes, I get the word wrong several times in a row. Picture me, sitting in my kitchen, saying "sha-lom" 5 times in a row, each with increasing volume (and frustration).

Also, sometimes I try to trick the program. So instead of saying something like "sha-lom," I will say "ma-mom." It still counts as correct.

So, again I say, I am skeptical.

More to come on my Hebrew-speaking adventures. Until then, "ze lo rofeh" (this is not a doctor).

Pretty

"Find fulfillment and wear joy." ... sing it, sister.