Hebrew Books, Oppa Gangham Style, and Ships and Sailors...A Day Inside the Life of an English Volunteer

While it's still fresh in my mind, I want to write about the awesome day I had at school today. First, instead of starting out teaching the third graders, we were told to go to the first grade (כיתה א=Keetah Aleph) because their teacher's car had broken down and she had to take a taxi to school. We were very excited because our favorite kid in the whole school, Bar, is in this class plus they're all teeny and adorable. We were also excited because we got to lead the whole class by ourselves. My years of experience as a camp counselor leading warmups made this an easy task...the only problem is that these children don't start learning English until third grade so there was NO english happening. It's all good though-it makes it more fun. I sang a song with them that I learned in cheer camp back in high school because it's the only song I know that doesn't have actual English words in it; it's mostly just sounds. Naturally they loved it because it's silly and they get to dance around. Then after that, we read them stories...in Hebrew. While I was reading (my Hebrew reading level is right about on par with the books they're reading in 1st grade), Ronit, the principal walked in and was stunned by my reading ability. She was not aware that I went to Jewish day school growing up and could read my whole life...but regardless, it felt awesome that I read a whole book in Hebrew by myself to the kids and that Ronit was in awe of what a good job I did (she even told my English teacher Helen, how impressed she was).

After that, we went to the third grade room where we were actually supposed to be and, after being attacked with hugs, wrote some M's in their machberot (notebooks) and pretty much chilled for the rest of the hour. Then we went to the library to teach some sixth graders. I taught them both versions of the game 'Concentration.' I love the group I have for that class because they're sweet kids who want to learn English and are just generally enjoyable to be around. We played jeopardy on the computer after concentration...pretty baller class.

Then it was the Hafsakah (break or recess). This whole week during the break, they've been putting out these huge speakers and the sixth graders have been leading dances for the rest of the kids. Today Nicole and I joined them. We dance to Oppa Gangham Style, Ai Se Eu Tu Pego, and other Israeli songs we didn't know. It was so much fun dancing with them. The first graders dancing to these songs could LITERALLY not be any cuter. I wish recess at home was like this! It's awesome, too, because it's hard not to feel like a celebrity when all the babies are hugging me and all the sixth graders are looking at me for approval and encouragement. They want me to love them. It really makes me feel so good everyday.

So then we were SUPPOSED to have another sixth grade class, but a blind woman came in to talk them about...I don't know, blind things I guess. So instead we, for some reason, were given the girls in fourth grade and took them to the gym to play gym games. I taught them ships and sailors, Indian Chief, and Down By the Banks (again, thank you, years of summer camp).

And thennnn we dipped. So basically what was supposed to be a 5 hour day turned into a 3 hour day, and we really only "taught" one of those hours and even then it was with kids we liked and had fun with. All in all, an awesome day at Hofit.

New York, New York

NOTE: I wrote this on Saturday, but our internet has been out so I'm posting it now.

This weekend has been extremely relaxing. Yesterday, Friday, I woke up at noon and at 6 was still in my PJs. It was around this time that I started having the slow realization that EVERYONE was going to be gone last night. Never in the 2+ months that we’ve been here has someone been the ONLY one out of all 16 of us that was home. Everyone was either gone for the weekend in Tel Aviv or with their family, or going to a Shabbat dinner. I had mixed feelings about this. Normally, I would love being the only one home, but it actually made me kind of sad that I would be all alone while everyone was eating home-cooked food and enjoying conversation with new people. So I asked the last two people here, Laura and Leah, if I could accompany them to their Shabbat dinner at the house of two elderly volunteers and they and the old people said yes.

I should add that yesterday was the first time it’s rained since we been here. And it wasn’t like a light rain, introducing Ashdod to winter. It was basically a monsoon out of nowhere. We all had to run around shutting all the windows because peoples’ beds were getting soaked…not to mention the laundry that people had hanging outside to dry. By the time it started raining, that was a lost cause. We had to seal the balcony doors too as water was leaking in underneath.  This rain’s significance will be made clear later in the post.

So the volunteers, Abe and Ruth, picked us up in the pouring rain and started driving us to their daughter-in-law’s house about 30 minutes away. Abe and Ruth are, as mentioned, an elderly couple in their 80s who spent most of their lives in New York before moving to Israel. Driving with and talking to 80-year-old New Yorkers, with the highways still wet from the rain, made it feel like I could have been driving with anyone’s grandparents in the states. It was quite comforting.

Finally we arrived at the house. After the initial and obligatory awkwardness that basically consists of the whole family asking “…so who are you?” (which I guess is a valid question to ask - I asked the same thing to all the Israelis that showed up at our Halloween party) we quickly realized how lucky we were to be having dinner at this house. The house was beautiful and had a distinct home-y feeling where you knew that tons of memories had been made here. We became aware instantly of how much love there was in this family. More love than I have ever seen a family have for each other. Abe, the patriarch of the whole family, sat down next to his 30 year old grandson and his girlfriend, and 3 of his great-grandchildren, aged 3, 6, and 8 and they were all hugging and kissing each other and, while they talked to one another, had their hands on each others’ backs and legs. Even the girlfriend held and kissed the little kids tightly and hugged her future-sister-in-law firmly as she talked to her. I was mesmerized by the affection. Mostly because in my house, people don’t touch each other. I’ll kiss my aunts, uncles, and grandma on the cheek when I see them (and even then, only SOME aunts and uncles), but head-leaning or back-rubbing is strictly prohibited. I wouldn’t try, but even if I did, I’d be shot down. It made me so happy for these young children to grow up in a home knowing they’re loved, but sad for myself.

Being in Israel has made me realize how affection-phobic I am. Some of the girls on my program are “touchers” and lovers and I truly don’t know how to accept the love when they give it to me. I never had it growing up. I’ve kind of grown up as my own best friend; I love being by myself. The first few weeks here, people kept asking me if I was okay or if I was sad or homesick because I spent so much time alone, but I was like uhh…no…I like it this way. But I’m starting to realize that I like being alone because I don’t know how to be loved by other people. I’ve put up a pretty strong wall around myself and I don’t like to/know how to let people in. It’s something I need to work on because I think I’ll feel much more fulfilled if I open up my heart to people. But a childhood lacking in affection and the damage from an emotionally abusive 5-year relationship makes it really hard for me.

Being surrounded by the kind of love I wish I had as a child was amazing last night.  We ate a delicious dinner of homemade challah, vegetable soup, rice-stuffed chicken, and jelly doughnuts and mint tea for dessert. I got to talk at length with the girlfriend of the grandson about her being a vegetarian and my experience being a vegetarian, and with the whole family about their very interesting lives moving back and forth between Israel and New York. They were fascinating because when they talked in English, they sounded like any typical New Yorker, but when they talked in Hebrew, they sounded like native Israelis. This was because the grandparents were born in New York and, as adults, moved to Israel where they had their 3 children. The children didn’t want to be in Israel and, as adults, moved back to the states where they had their children, who in turn didn’t want to be in the states and moved back here. Thus, they’re all bilingual and bicultural and it was just really interesting to hear their experiences (before I knew this, I was speaking really simple English to them because I didn’t want to offend them by talking too fast and have them not know what was going on. The 30-year-old then told me he went to Cornell for college… so THAT was awkward. I felt like an idiot).

Finally it was time to go (but not before the 80-year-olds got our names so he could find us on facebook). I walked outside and became overwhelmed with emotion from the love from the family mixed with the smell of the rain and the post-rain dew. I looked up to sky and exclaimed that I was going to cry (not a sad cry, just a “I almost feel an emotion” kind of cry). Abe came over and hugged me so tightly and said “It’s gonna be okay baby. I’ll be your grandpa here.” It was the perfect ending to a perfect evening. And to think…I could have spent the entire night in my pajamas, alone, eating pretzels and nutella, happy that I was getting alone time. But I am so happy that I made the decision to spend the evening with people.

Finally at home

Part of our duty here in Israel is to volunteer for two hours a week. Slowly but surely, after sitting down and talking to us about what we want to do, Irit has been finding us our volunteer locations. Some people want to work in animal shelters, others with refugees who want to learn English, and still others cleaning up the beaches. But I, unsurprisingly, didn't want any of this (except maybe the animal shelter, but the dogs are uglier here). I told her I wanted to work in a speech and hearing clinic, in any capacity. Our amazing madricha found me something above and beyond what I ever thought was possible here: a Deaf club right here in Ashdod.

I am currently waiting in the main recreation room to talk with the (thankfully English-speaking) coordinator of the club and building. I'm surrounded by Deaf people having conversations, laughing, and catching up. Others are playing cards. But they are all enjoying themselves. I feel rude eavesdropping, but I love just watching. The interactions are so genuine. The Deaf are a special group of people; so kind and accepting, yet so no-nonsense. Two men came over to me and insisted I get a cup of coffee here and I talked to them (in sign language) only to get across that I knew only American Sign Language, not Israeli Sign Language. In just that two minute interaction, we communicated as best we could. The communication barrier doesn't phase me now, whether in spoken or visual language, because that is all I know here.

Dvori, the hearing employee, came out just for a minute to tell me she was finishing up another meeting. She seems absolutely lovely, giving me a hug and telling me how happy she is that I can volunteer. When she's not here, she works as an interpreter around Israel. I'm obsessed with her already. I asked her if this whole building was devoted to the Deaf club and she replied to me, "Yes. This is their home." And I knew instantly the moment I walked in, that this was my home, too.

Trip to Jerusalem, the second and better edition

So Thursday, Oranim, the trip organizer for all of us, took us on a trip to Jerusalem. Truly I didn't even want to go because when I went back to Jerusalem the first time about a month ago ("back" because I went on Birthright last year), I felt that I had seen it all before and felt underwhelmed, in contrast to people who feel great profound moments of spirituality there. But, since it was mandatory, I went. My biggest concern was that, since I didn't believe in the stories of the bible, it would seem like a bunch of bullshit to me. And that's exactly what it was at first, but later, our tour guide, Keren, started making the disctinction more and more between history and tradition/belief. And I wouldn't let Matt, one of the 16 of us, leave my side because, as a historian, he was able to answer all my questions...most importantly, the questions like "Did this really happen?" and "Did he actually exist?" Once these questions were answered, I could decide whether or not I would listen at any particular site.

There was even a question of whether or not I would stay in Jerusalem overnight because we had free vouchers to this one (extremely religious) hostel in the Old City. The answer to this question vollied back and forth a hundred times. On the one hand, it was a free night away from my apartment. On the other, the old city genuinely (at first) made me feel uncomfortable. I felt like I was walking around in this city that's all built on a lie and I didn't like that feeling. But after talking with Matt and being encouraged to look at it from a historical or archaeological, rather than religious, perspective, I decided to stay and it was actually a lot of fun, despite having woken up at 5:15 that morning after 4 hours of sleep and walking around in the heat all day. I learned a lot more than I was expecting to. But, anyway, here we go...

Okay so we started at the Hass Promenade, an outlook that overlooks all of Jerusalem.

 This is Mount Moriah, the mountain where Abraham was supposedly told by god to sacrifice Isaac (imagine deleting all of the buildings and structures and seeing only land...that's what we were told it looked like back then). That tower all the way in the back is the Church of the Ascension, where Jesus is said to have ascended to heaven.

We then went to the Old City, where we first saw the tomb of King David (not putting a picture up because it wasn't cool). There is no record, Matt told me, of King David ever existing, so I couldn't have been less enthused at this particular site.

Next we walked along the old city walls through the Jaffa gate to the Jewish quarter. We had some free time here. We have been learning about how Jerusalem is a city built on a city many times over. On the break, I saw this one area where you could look down and actually see pillars from when the Romans had control of this land. This was actually really cool to me; I could see an actual part of history. I think this was important for me because unlike Jewish history which much of it is based on fallacies and stories, this was history I could see with my own eyes. This intrigued me. Matt took me downstairs to the pillars and told me all about how in this exact area was the Roman cardo, an old shopping district. I loved it. It was at this moment where I realized that this city had more historical significance than I was giving it credit for.

Then we went to the much-dreaded hot spot, the western wall. I, and the many other atheists who were on the trip with me, dreaded this because it's the holiest and most spiritual area in the holiest and most spiritual city in Israel. There's so much pressure to FEEL here. And my sociopathy sees this place as a threat to my safety bubble of not feeling. Being surrounded by so many people who feel that they're closest to god at this place is very difficult for me. I feel, probably rather offensively, that these people are just so dogmatically unintelligent. But I digress. I made it through unscathed, even though I was told to cover up my shoulders, and we moved on to the most interesting part of the day.

 This was visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Christians believe that Jesus was crucified, anointed, and resurrected. It was so cool inside. First of all, seeing christians in jean capris and fanny packs was a nice break from seeing jews covered from head to toe (and I should note that these christians were just as holy and devout as the jews are at the western wall, but they didn't make me cover up my shoulders). While I didn't believe in a bit of it, it was really crazy to put yourself in their shoes and imagine what it might feel like to them to be at the "exact" spot where he was crucified and touch a rock that his body laid on. People were getting really moved. This is the rock where he was laid down and anointed:

And this was where he was crucified:

It was really cool. I didn't know that it all supposedly happened in one place (the crucifixion, anointment, and ressurection) but I guess other people knew that. There are two suggested caves that he might have been buried, and thus resurrected, in. One has thus huge ordained shrine built around it and other other is much more modest and in fact looks like just a cave. The second one was cooler in my opinion. It blew my mind that, even is jesus wasn't buried there, someone was.

After this, the whole group left, leaving those of us staying the night on our own. It was a really great time. Me, Rachel, and Nicole went to Mike's Place, the American bar in Jerusalem, where we got huge juicy burgers and fries. Then we went to collapse in the hostel after walking all day. From there we went to a really cool Renaissance Festival in the Old City. It was a big jagged circle around the christian quarter and down every corridor was a medieval act of some sort, like this. 

From there, though I was falling asleep, I was determined to make the most of this night so we headed out of the old city (beer isn't sold in the old city...weird) and towards Ben Yehuda street to find a hookah bar. We came across one where there was a deal for a beer, a shot and hookah for only 10 shekels (which is lik $2.50). So we stayed there. It got cold in jerusalem! I was wearing jeans and a sweater and was still freezing. I loved it though. It was a nice change of pace from the constant sweat stains I have.

The hostel we were staying at was very religious. It's women only and their goal is to provide a cheap place for jewish women to stay inside the old city and to provide them places to eat dinner on shabbat. As such, it's not really a "party" hostel and we had to be back by midnight or we would be locked out. Luckily this gave us a built in, much needed good night's sleep. (I talked extensively with one of the house mom's there about her religious journey. It was extremely interesting but too much to write in this blog).

In the morning we had to be up and out by 9 am. Rosie, Becca, and I headed to the Israel Museum. It took us quite a while to get there as we took the train to the shuk to grab some breakfast then jumped back on the train, got off, and still had to walk like 30 minutes to get there-next time we're taking a cab for sure. The museum was fascinating. It had this huge archaeology exhibit that was completely contradictory to creationism...something I was shocked they would have in Jerusalem. They even had a palcard saying this was when/where man invented religion and gods. I was equally, if not more, shocked to see this.

I'm glad I had such a better time in Jerusalem this trip. I don't want to dislike the city. There is so much the old city has to offer and I would have never realized that if it wasn't for Matt...so Matt, thank you for making me see this.

Week one of teaching

So I am currently laying on the beach on this Saturday afternoon typing this blog from my newly unlocked iPhone. This is the first time I've been able to use the Internet without searching for wifi in random markets of by standing next to the McDonald's in the mall...so it's pretty exciting for me. I'm sure that my roommate, who keeps Shabbat and is laying next to me, is thrilled about me using my phone right now but whatever. Sorry Danielle...hopefully (your) god won't be too upset.

Anyway this weekend marks the end of our first official week of teaching. But it's not really teaching...most of us are coming to terms with the fact that we're really more teachers aides rather than actual teachers. Most of us spent the week taking 2-3 students out of class at a time...reading the same passage with them that the teacher was reading with the whole class inside the room.

When the week began, Nicole, my partner, and I were still just observing. Helen, the English teacher were with most of the time, wanted us to get a feel for how she teaches English. I swear by the end of day two I was hearing her voice while I was trying to fall asleep saying and clapping in rhythm "How are you? Fine thank you." in a French-Israeli accent that she used to teach the 3rd graders introductions. Helen is such a hoot. First of all, the woman's got an aroma that could kill, but it's grown to be the smell of home for us and when were at school without her, it just doesn't feel right without the bad breath/b.o. thing she has going on. But she's our mama. She gets genuinely mad at us if we but something before asking her if she has the item first. She heard me mention that I need sheets and promptly alerted all the teachers and her neighbors to bring me any extra sheets they had (as well as hangers, pots, pans, etc...) She's absolutely wonderful and I would dislike my school a lot if it wasn't for her.

So with only observing for a few days, I was struggling to feel needed and useful. Helen and the other English teacher/vice principal/authoritarian dictator, Dorit, have their shit together. I felt that they had to go out if their way to find something for us to do rather than us filling a purpose they couldn't. But it's getting a little better. By Thursday, the last day of our week, I was taking kids out at every period. With the babies I was reviewing the letters they knew, adding in the letter N, and going over those introductions which they now have solidified through rote memorization (If the kids say hey! To us, and we respond with "Hi, how are you?" The smile will wipe off their face as they try to remember how to properly say "Fine, thank you."). With the older kids, they wanted us to work with them to write articles (basically a paragraph). It felt better to be useful and to be supplementing the class rather than just doing the exact same thing. Still, though, I do not feel extremely confident that the kids are learning anything with me. I haven't really found my footing yet as a transmitter of knowledge, but it's only been a week-I'm sure ill get there.

I hope to be with the same kids every week so that I can track their progress and form connections with them. I think that will make me feel a lot better. I hate having to ask for these poor kids names everyday but its because I'm never with any kid more than 30 minutes at a time. So that's one thing that I'm going to ask about. Once I know that that can happen, I think I'll be a lot more enthusiastic because ill be able to make and prepare materials for them. Right now, there's no point in planning ahead because we don't know a.what we'll be teaching that day or b.who we'll be working with.

So that's where I am right now. I'll keep you updated!

Shabbat shalom!
To g

"Why I Don't Believe in God", a song by Everclear or the title of my future memoir?

So I'm sitting here, congested and ache-y, on what seems like day 100 of this paradise vacation I'm on, and I'm using it as an opportunity to  reflect on my first month here (tomorrow is our official 1 month anniversary, after all). Today is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year in Israel and the Jewish world. The HOLIEST. And this fact, combined with recent conversations I have had with roommates, has inspired me to write about something that has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. And that would be the intersection of being in Israel and my religious beliefs. These beliefs have been gestating in my mind for some time now, but I've never laid them out on paper (er...a MacBook) to examine what they truly are and so this will be a learning experience for both you and me. Please understand that this isn't meant to offend anybody, especially my roommates who are all fasting while I am eating chocolate right in front of them. But as most people feel comfortable publicizing their religious beliefs, I see it only fair that I should able to do the same. Also a disclaimer that this post is long because there is a lot of necessary back story.

To any of you that don't know...surprise! I'm an atheist. For me that means, among other things, that I don't believe in god, in any sort of afterlife, or in the stories told in scriptures. But, as I try to tell my concerned father (and I must say I find it baffling that my disbelief in god concerns him so much, given his 61 years as a free-spirited, open-minded hippie, but that's a topic for another post), this doesn't mean I don't believe in anything. I believe in things, of course...like that people should be honest, caring, and just...I just didn't use a religion to come to these conclusions. I find it equal parts unbearable and captivating when people tell me that they truly believe everything anything written in the old testament. Recently, it is that there is one day (today) in which you repent for all your sins and you do this by not eating for 24 hours, and, depending on how good of a job you did, your name will be written on one side or the other of a book that says whether you will basically live or not.

I think that deep down, I have been an atheist my whole life...I just didn't know that thinking this way was an option. I guess that's what happens when you go to Jewish Day School until 5th grade. I did go through a phase, around my Bat Mitzvah, when I thought I wanted to be religious. I was, after all, the only one of my sisters to go to Jewish Day School and to be bat mitzvah'ed so I thought it was only natural that I should be the one fasting and going to temple on high holidays and actually thinking about the meaning of the prayers we say. But I always felt so empty doing this and so unfulfilled. I guess I didn't question it and thought that it was normal to feel that it was all completely arbitrary. This blind acceptance I did continued all the way through end of high school while I was involved in BBYO (though I did love BBYO and made a lot of good friends there). Finally, I left for college, read The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, and, with the help of my now ex-boyfriend, allowed myself to finally come to terms with the fact that I didn't believe in god.

Still, for a while, I continued going to temple on the high holidays because I thought that that's what I was supposed to do. I thought that even if I didn't believe in god, I still maintained that I was Jewish and thus should celebrate Jewish holidays. I thought that since I was Jewish, I should feel Jewish. And I  realized sometime in this past year that I have never really felt Jewish. As hard as I tried sometimes, I can not confidently say there was a time that it was true.

That was, of course, until I went on Birthright last summer. I absolutely adored Birthright. I loved being in Israel and I felt this amazing connection so much that, like one of my roommate's describes, I wanted to kiss the ground. The biggest thing I took away from Birthright was that I can not believe in god and still be Jewish. This was an amazing revelation for me that put many of my concerns at ease. What was the magical answer that solved the paradox of atheism with judaism? Secular Jews (or so I thought, but we'll get to that). Prior to birthright, I had a misconception that everyone in Israel was religious, but when I learned that only about 1/3 of the country is and the rest of the country considers themselves secular (i.e. not religious), I felt a huge sense of relief. I felt a weight had been lifted off me. So I left Israel at peace with my disbelief, knowing that I could still be Jewish in so much that I support the land of Israel and the Jewish people.

So fast-forward a year to this past month. I am, quite obviously, back in Israel. I don't really know what I was expecting before I came here in terms of what I've been talking about. I think I was expecting to feel the same peace I felt last year: knowing that, despite not believing in god, I am still welcome here because of my love and support for Israel. But honestly, my experience has been completely the opposite. And before I go any further, I must say that I have been having a great time here so far and have loved the friends I have made both in my roommates and in Israelis I have met here. But there are some things I didn't expect and that I didn't really think about until my sister recently asked me, "So has being there changed your views on religion at all?" The following was basically my response, in SMS form, of course.

Being here has only further solidified my religious beliefs (or lack thereof). And it has, truly (unfortunately?) made me feel even less Jewish and less connected to this land than I was before Birthright. First of all, the relief I felt at knowing Jews were secular, rather than religious, is not exactly the dichotomy I thought it was. The secular folk here still pray with tefillin daily, go to services on the high holidays, and fast when they're supposed to. In short, they're not 'not-religious,' they're just less religious than the really-religious people here (and there are some REALLY religious people here). It's not that the secular Jews don't believe in god or any of the stories of Judaism, they just don't observe as many rules as they could, such as keeping Shabbat or always wearing a kippah. And this has greatly led to me feeling less comfortable and more like an outsider here. I was expecting to be around Israelis who, obviously, are Jewish but who don't believe in god. I was expecting to find solidarity with them and maybe be able to better unravel the thoughts in my head. But this hasn't been the case.

Piggy-backing on this, I feel that because don't believe in the same things as the people of this country, that as a result, I am either a.) not welcome in their homes like other people on my program would be or b.) welcome as long as I lie or withhold my thoughts. This sounds easy, but, for example, at Shabbat dinners when you're the only one not washing your hands before a meal (in the ritualized sense, not because of germs) and not saying 'amen' after prayers, your beliefs become pretty clear. And unlike taking on a 'When in Rome' mentality, I just don't feel comfortable doing these things when they go against what I believe...despite that making me a rude dinner guest. They wouldn't pray to a god that they don't believe in, so why should I?

All of this has put a wedge between me and this country and has kind of made me wish I had chosen to spend the year teaching in Europe, where religion isn't ubiquitous (for example, being stranded anywhere from Friday at sundown to Saturday at sundown because public transportation doesn't run on Shabbat). I just see the world in such a vastly different way than the people in this country, as well as many people on my program, and it never occurred to me that this might have an affect on my enjoyment of these 10 months. And as a result of all of these observations, I really am struggling now with deciding if I can even consider myself Jewish anymore. Does learning hebrew, living in Israel and eating dinner with a big group of people on some holidays really make me Jewish? How can it when I don't believe in a single thing that makes Judaism, Judaism? I personally feel like a hypocrite saying I'm Jewish, but this question is still a work in progress. And knowing myself, I will eventually come to an answer that brings me peace.

I have been finding solace in two ways. One, I remind myself that I am here for the teaching experience and not, like many of my roommates, to further my Judaism and become more religious. And two, I am very lucky to have a couple other people on my program with me whose thoughts and struggles coincide mine. It's encouraging to have conversations with them about it so I don't constantly feel like I'm hiding something and/or offending someone when I'm asked why I'm not fasting, for example. However, most people here know this fact about me and I am lucky to have roommates who, even though our views differ greatly, are open and non-judgmental to other opinions and, like me, genuinely enjoy discussing these topics.

So this is where I am mentally. It's not the experience you're expected to have when you come to Israel. It's actually quite the contrary. When the Israeli teachers at my mom's and sister's school tell them how excited they are that I am here, I'm sure this is not what they had in mind. But I'm doing the best I can under the circumstances and I'm using the challenge as a time to really examine my own thoughts and become certain in who I am. Unbeknownst to them, each person I meet here is unravelling my thoughts little by little to reveal to me something new about myself. And I'm eager to continue this introspective journey.

Freckles on my lip, freck freckles on my lip

I forgot to post this...without further adieu, my Rosh Hashanah post.

Two nights ago Rosalish and I went to our host family for Rosh Hashanah dinner. I'm really glad I went with her because I wanted to see how holidays were done here, plus I knew I would have fun going with her in particular. And, as expected, the dinner was very enlightening and Rosie and I were very...American. 

Once we actually sat down to the meal after waiting for the men to get home from synagogue, there were many toasts for a good, blessed, and sweet new year. Or so it sounded like...they weren't particularly zealous about translating what they were saying to English. There were loaves and loaves of homemade challah, which was absolutely delicious, and a bunch of little dishes with things like honey, apples, pomegranate seeds, etc... In Israel, they have a certain order in which you eat these things. First we dipped apples in honey, then we each ate a fig, then pomegranate seeds, then I forget the order of the rest, but it included carrots, a raw fish head (which I did not partake in), an eggplant/pumpkin/green bean ritual, and dipping the fresh bread in various sauces.

Then they brought out cooked fish and a bunch of appetizer-y things...only I didn't know they were appetizers so I made sure to fill up on them. That was not a good idea. By the time the next two courses came out, I could literally not put a single extra bite in my mouth. But the food was absolutely delicious. There was chicken and lamb and meat things with a cinnamon stick in it, and then spaghetti, potatoes, rice, and tons of veggies.

And then, after all this, and before the huge dessert spread they brought out, were sunflower seeds, nuts and beans. It's a surprise that Israelis stay so skinny if they eat like this all the time.

The main thing that was different between Rosh Hashanah here and Rosh Hashanah at home is that a.) here, they don't sing songs about dipping apples in honey, which I find ludicrous, and b.) they toast about 100 times throughout the meal. Also, they didn't know we were Jewish so they kept saying really obvious things like "Now we're saying a blessing over the wine," or "Now we thank god after the meal we just ate." And we were like...dudes, we know. They also kept propagandizing us like "I hope you see that Israelis are good people..." To which we also responded...dudes, we know.

But about them not being zealous to translate things into English...this meant that Rosie and I spent a good portion of the dinner talking mostly to each other, which as usual meant that hilarity and inappropriate behavior ensued. Like when the father was making a toast, but I didn't know and so I turned to Rosie and said "I have two freckles on my lip" and then rapped about having freckles on my lip (see the title of this post). There were a lot of similar moments that wouldn't be funny unless you were there, but at one point one of the Israelis next to us said "They laughing again??" Apparently banging the table from laughing so hard is not a Rosh Hashanah tradition in Israel...for some reason.

I'm really glad I went and the family was genuinely nice. Oh and the apartment was amazing...you walk from the apartment hallway through their door and immediately onto this beautiful rooftop with the most stunning breeze. I'm not sure that this is the family I'll want to be with for the remainder of the year, but I had a great time. I just hope we didn't give Americans too bad a name. But if we get a bad name for having a good time, then I'm fine with that.