The Journey

This was my day to just explore. I woke up super early, just eager to walk around Tel-Aviv. Jeremy got up and headed off to university (you do not really hear class or school here, just university) and I was on my own. Jeremy left me with a map and a phrase book, but I got a problem with being “the tourist” (a stupid feeling, but I enjoy the challenge of navigation). So I tried to memorize where it was I wanted to go and how to get there and threw the map and phrase book in pack and headed out. I gave my self two goals for the day, get in contact with the volunteer organization I want to work with and get a cell phone. But my first stop was the post office and it did not take long at all for me to get lost. Jeremy had explained how to get there and it did not seem complicated, but sure enough, I had to ask someone where it was. Once I found it, I realized that I had walked by it twice without even noticing (I knew I was off to great start).
From the post office, I began to walk towards the location of the Kibbutz Program Center, the organization that was going to place me as a volunteer on a kibbutz. For those who are not mindful of what a kibbutz is allow me to explain. They are a socialist community where production is in the hand of the members. They are not as ideological as they once were, due to industrial and cultural revolutions, but are pretty subsistent for the most part. Most kibbutzim now offer the luxuries enjoyed by other Israelis (i.e. TVs, larger homes, private transportation). I came to Israel to participate on a kibbutz and this organization was going to find one that would welcome me into their community.
However, finding the Kibbutz Center was not as easy as I anticipated. On the map, it was simple. Head down Dizengoff St. (cross street of Jeremy’s and one of the more popular streets in Tel-Aviv) to Frishman St., turn left onto Frishman and the Kibbutz Center (KC) was at the corner of Frishman St. and Ben Yehuda St. But, of course, when I got to Frishman I made a wrong turn (I swear I went left like I was supposed to). All of a sudden I looked up at the street signs and Frishman St. had changed to something else and I was at Ytzhak Rabin square (I was at the opposite end of the street, across town). The square is home to Tel-Aviv’s city hall and the location where Prime Minister Ytzhak Rabin was assassinated. I had been there before, years ago, but enjoyed taking it in again. I found some privacy and pulled out the map and re-associated myself, then headed west towards the beach.
It was a nice walk and the sun was out. I saw a car getting towed and was in awe of the Israeli tow trucks (see picture). They are like fork lifts that move across the bed of the truck, down to street level and under the car. They then lift the car and bring it back across the bed and lower it onto the truck, then disappear (too quick and easy). Finally, I reached the KC and went upstairs to begin the process. I presented them with my application and we started talking location. I originally wanted to go to a kibbutz in the north, but the only one looking for volunteers wanted someone big and strong to do heavy agricultural work. I made eye contact with the lady helping me and no words were necessary. I told her that I had experience cooking and would like to work in a kitchen. She then told me of a couple and pointed to them on a map, both being in the south. This was not an issue, but this was a big decision since it would dictate my Israeli experience.
Luckily, one of the ones she pointed to, was a kibbutz that I had written down because I knew someone or knew someone who knew someone that was living there. The KC representative called down to their volunteer coordinator, told her a little about me and handed me the phone. I was happy to hear a New York accent and clear english. The volunteer coordinator was an American and asked me some questions about myself, like where did I come from, what do I do in life (pretty tough questions, especially the latter). During the screening I mentioned Camp Tawonga, the American Express card of summer camps (accepted everywhere), and a connection was made. Aliza (the volunteer coordinator) had a cousin who had worked at Tawonga. Turned out to be my dear friend Ben Simrin who was currently studying abroad at University of Haifa (in the north of Israel). This made both of us feel very comfortable with our arrangement and I told her I would take the bus south no later than Wednesday. I was stoked and thought this worked out perfectly; I will be a prep-cook for Kibbutz Ketura. Ketura is located in the south, about a half hour north of Eilat, in the Negev Desert (Josh Isaacs might know a little something about Ketura, he volunteered there through the same program last summer).
With a huge smile on my face and one mission complete, I was off on my search for a phone. I walked up Ben Yehuda St. for a while finally stopping to pick up a bottle of water. I asked the store clerk if he knew where I could find a phone and he was very kind and spoke English. His name was Aaron and said he had a friend with a phone store. Aaron started to give me directions, but soon realized it would just be easier to right them down, super helpful. He told me to ask for Ayal and if I told Ayal that Aaron sent me, I might receive a discount. I was instructed to take the number 4 bus down to the Ha’carmel Market, get off and walk past the falafel and shawarma stand and it would be on my right (like telling someone in the states to walk to a Starbucks and turn right). Sure enough, it was right there, next to a falafel stand. I asked for Ayal and he helped me purchase and set up my phone (052 407 6216, dial 011 first if calling from the states).
Missions completed, I just started to wander. I was very hungry and figured I would walk back towards Jeremy’s and find myself a tasty falafel filled pita. Jeremy and I had walked down to the Ha’carmel market the day before, so I figured I could find my way back without the map. One could safely assume that a pattern is developing and of course, I ended up no where near Jeremy’s apartment and had to pull out the map. The funny thing about this day of exploring is that I think it was a gift to get lost all the time because I got to see a lot of different parts of Tel-Aviv that I probably would not have seen if I just stuck to the map.
Turned out that I was not too far away from Jeremy’s and got back on track. By this point I was starving and even though I had intended on picking up some falafel closer to Jeremy’s apartment, it was time to start looking. I walked by this one falafel spot and it smelled way too good to pass up. I got a pita filled with falafel and salad (cucumbers and tomatoes), all of which had just been fried up and cost 12 shekels (about $3 American). It was delicious, filled to the brim and covered in taziki sauce. So I continued walking and munched as I walked back to Jeremy’s.
Once home, I realized how exhausted I was, so I kicked off my shoes and laid down for a cat nap. Shortly after Jeremy returned home from university and he brought me some sunflower seeds. I had mentioned to him that I was searching for some Israeli sunflower seeds because they are unbelievable. First of all they are huge, twice the size of American seeds, and seasoned to perfection; they keep them warm too. Jeremy left to the airport to pick up his friend Deborah and I stayed back to prepare dinner. I felt that I was brought into the house filled with food and it was only appropriate for Deborah to experience the same.
I walked down to the market and picked up some groceries, but got home only to discover that I forgot the most important ingredient for one of the dishes I was planning to make. So I made a second trip to the market and felt like my father, who thoroughly enjoys his trips to the grocery store. Once finished with the shopping the prep work began and I was a slicing machine. I prepared a mediterranean hummus dip (figured it was more than appropriate) and vegetarian fajitas. I have had only one bite of meat since arriving (some homemade schnitzel, Israeli “fried” chicken) and I think I will try to limit my meat intake for the remainder of my trip. Not for any reason other than the fact that the veggies here are ridiculously delicious. The hardest part in the cooking process was determining which spices to use because they are all labeled in Hebrew, so I had to go by the smell. I learned the hard way by using vinegar instead of vegetable oil, thus the smell test. Although, strange enough, the vinegar somehow provided the perfect touch to the sauce. We enjoyed a little cheese (which I removed a half hour before serving, thanks mom), the hummus dip, and the vegetarian fajitas, which turned out to be quite delicious.
After dinner we were all wiped out. Tried to watch a movie called “Paradise Now,” a Palestinian movie about suicide bombers. Unfortunately, the subtitles were not working and my Arabic is even worse than my Hebrew (Allah, Achbar, Mohammed, Jihad, that’s about it). Probably a good thing that the movie did not work out because I would have been asleep instantly. So, we all got ready for bed and called an end to the day; what a wonderful, productive day.

Today, Jeremy and I woke up late and decided to go for a walk around Tel-Aviv and down to the beach. The weather was wonderful and it was nice to be wearing sandals again. We walked through the city and headed south to Jaffa. Jaffa is the southern tip of Tel-Aviv and contains a large Arab population. It is full of stone houses, cobblestone alleys and the streets are normally filled with outdoor shops. It was Saturday and most of the shops and street markets were closed, but we journeyed deeper to find a place for lunch. The place we found was wonderful and the food was delicious. We split an Arabic salad (cucumbers and tomatoes with dressing) and a goat cheese and red pepper sandwich. The red peppers were like fruit, full of juice and roasted to perfection. After lunch we walked to a nargila (hookah) shop and sat down for some Arabic tea and nargila. A nargila is a tool used to smoke a tobacco that marinates in fruity molasses and is quite flavorful, very customary. The tea was very soothing and full of flavor; a nice blend of herbs and spices with mint leaves for garnish and extra flavor. Jeremy taught me how to play sheshbesh (backgammon) and we took in some soccer and sun.
When we finished we walked along the beach (Mediterranean Sea) as the sun was setting. Some heavy clouds were moving in and they had been forecasting rain all day. On our way back we walked through two town squares that was awfully familiar. I think that I must have passed through them when I was last hear in the summer of 2000. We stopped at the supermarket to pick up some groceries and dinner. It was poker night at one of Jeremy’s friend’s house so we quickly went home to change and brought our food over to Danny’s house. While we were there it started to rain, like Oregon style. There were flashes of lightning and thunder that shook the house. I thought I left this weather miles behind, but I guess I brought a little with me.
Once I had lost all my money (Jeremy took a good chunk), we made our way back to Jeremy’s. It was raining, but still warm, so the walk was quite enjoyable. You can walk the streets with open “beverages,” something that is not welcomed in the states. I think that I have consumed more beer (on a social level mom) in the last two days than I have over the last six months. Anyway, time for bed, I got a long day tomorrow...

The Ben Gurion airport was dead. It was Friday evening (Shabbat) and not one store
was open and I think we may have been the last flight of the night. Customs was simple,
except for the fact that they thought I was an Israeli citizen and informed me the at it was
time for me to join the army. Mom, do not worry! I cleared things up and let them know
that I was not Israeli and that the American passport that the customs agent was holding
would tell her otherwise. All things checked out and I proceeded to baggage claim, picked
up my bag, and walked to the greeting area. As I walked around I heard a man’s voice yell
out Frisco and all of Israel knew that I had arrived. Jeremy had come with his roommate
Miri to pick me up and welcome me to his new home.
It was 8 in the evening and dark out, but it was still beautiful. We drove into Tel-Aviv
and the city was dead. All shops were closed except for a few bodegas (corner stores) and
the streets were empty. When we got to Jeremy and Miri’s apartment (in the center of Tel-
Aviv, between Dizengoff center and Dizengoff square), Jeremy’s girlfriend, Yafit, was
preparing dinner and it smelled fabulous. Their apartment was fantastic, three bedroom
and felt like home. Their third roommates name is Limor and we all sat down to dinner; a
wide variety of Israeli cuisine and it all tasted great.
After dinner we moved to the living room and just relaxed. Jeremy sparked up the
nargila (hookah) and some of his friends from school came by to hang out. The radio
station they all listen to plays the craziest variety of music, from current American pop and
hip-hop to 80s music with a couple Hebrew songs mixed in. Eventually it got late and we
were all wiped out and headed for bed. All in all, I do not even feel like I am in another
country. Everyone made me feel so welcome, it was like being at home.

After leaving the grasp of my weeping mother, my dad and I began our drive towards
the airport. It was nice to have some car time with dad, even though I did not have much
to talk about, but my dad kept asking me questions, I think he just wanted to hear my
voice. I too wanted to talk, but my mind was somewhere else, and rightfully so. I had
been anticipating this day for the last six months. Once we pulled up to the airport I
started to get real excited, although it would be almost 24 hours until I was in Israel, the
trip had begun.
While checking in, the Air Canada representative informed me that my bag was 8
pounds over the limit and that I would have to remove some items or pay an extra $25. So
I plucked some items out and stuffed my carry on as full as I could get it without smushing
the delicious sandwich that my dad had prepared for my travels (one of his favorite things
to do for his son). I did not really think about what I was taking out and putting into my
carry on , but one of the items was my first aid kit. The issue with the first aid kit is that I
had a small pocket knife inside and that is a no-no with security. Well, knowing me, I
proceeded anyway and continued through security with no problems or bonus frisking
(makes ya feel realllll safe).
With two hours until my flight and a full stomach, I got real board real quick while
waiting at the gate. So I started to wonder around and found a restaurant/bar with a TV. I
took a seat and just started to relax when the meanest Asian lady I had ever met, asked
me if I wanted anything. When I replied no, she proceeded to be very rude and kick me
out because seating was for customers only. This seemed fair, but I was the only potential
customer within 25 feet of the place and now I think I know why (she was no Joy, the
loving Asian owner of the finest diner in Eugene). So I took a seat across from the
restaurant where I could still view the exhilarating match-up between the Cincinnati Reds
and Boston Red Sox (Bronson Arroyo struck out Willy Mo Pena, players that were traded for
each other amongst the competing squads). As time ticked away, I made faces and played
with a young kid who was also waiting for a flight and was not the type to sit still and wait
(much like me when I was his age and still). But eventually, the little hand was on between
the 11 and 12 and it was time for me to head back to the gate and start leg one of the
flight.
The flight to Toronto was quick and painless (in comparison to what was still to
come). I enjoyed the in-flight movie, “Prime” I believe it was called. A story about a 23
year old Jewish boy whose mother is a psychiatrist, a concept that could develop into a
movie on its own. The 23 year old met and fell in love with a beautiful 37 year old woman
(Uma Thurman). The catch is that Uma was a patient of the psychiatrist mother and would
tell stories of her relationship with this young boy and in some detail. Eventually the
mother caught on and blah blah blah. All in all, it was entertaining and throughout the
movie, spurts of laughter would rain inside the plane.
Once off the plane in Toronto, I had to proceed through customs and make my way to
another terminal for the second leg of the trip. I had a three hour layover and had a huge
craving for some poutin (french fries covered in gravy with cheese curds on top), a
Canadian delicacy. Of course before I made my way to any food stop, there was a very
important phone call that had to be made. So I picked up the phone and called home to
let my mother know that her 263 month old baby was safe and sound. I was quite lucky
because as soon as I sat down to enjoy my healthy batch of poutin, the jersey retirement
ceremony for Indiana Pacer, Reggie Miller was just beginning. It made me feel a little
emotional because I remember all the times Reggie buried the hopes of the New York
Knickerbockers (the choking gesture is still in my mind) and his last second heroics. I
thought this was there was not a better game to end my 2005-06 season on. The Pacers
were playing the Phoenix Suns and were just getting blown out (could the Suns win it all
minus Amare? ‘Cuz it sure looked like whatever Indiana tried was not going to stop Steve
Nash from getting the ball to someone who would put the ball through the hoop).
Anyway, it was time to board the 11 hour flight to Tel-Aviv and while I was waiting for
everyone to make their way down to the plane, I was chatting it up with the gate attendant.
He was very charming and flexible, something very rare in his profession. After everyone
seemed to be on the plane, I figured it was my turn to walk the plank. Before I could begin
the gentleman at the gate asked for my ticked and said he was going to give me a seat
with some extra leg room (even though I already had the exit row); he said I would be in
the front row. As I stepped onto the plane I started counting rows and did not understand
why my seat was 5C because there were seven rows in first class. The kindest airline
attendant I have ever worked with had pulled some sort of magic from his hat and
reassigned me to first class, unbelievable. I really wanted to run back to the gate and
shake his hand, but I was already stuck in the seat, more like lounge chair, which would be
perfect for the overnight flight.
After flying first class, I do not think I can ever go back to economy. The chair
reclined into a bed and I was out, but not before enjoying a three course dinner. When I
awoke it was light out again and we were over Italy. The personal TV had a map channel
and I was able to figure out what cities I was flying over. The sky was clear and I had
wonderful views of Nice and Naples. Then came Greece, where I could identify Hydra and,
in the distance, Athens. With two hours to go it was time for breakfast. So here I was
enjoying a pre-breakfast of sliced fruit and pastries while flying over the Greek Isles. I
could see Milos and then Santorini and they were amazing. I had never had steak and
eggs before and never thought that my first time would be on a plane. Air Canada
definitely knows how to treat its elite passengers and I felt spoiled.