My dear readers might remember last summer's post on the Michigan RV trip, and the cast of characters: my siblings, 12-year-old Guinea Pig 1 and 8-year-old GP2, parents, & maternal grandparents & uncle. They are the normal vacation group; this time, however, we mixed things up. Let me give you some back-story.
My father's brother, Uncle Punk (yes, I have both an Uncle Punk and an Uncle Sport), has been studying to become a rabbi. Part of the program requires living in Jerusalem; therefore, he, Aunt N., and their four children (Cousins 1, 2, 3, & 4) have been living there for the past two years. Cousin 1's bat mitzvah happened to fall during this time period, and so my immediate family (parents & GPs 1&2) along with my paternal grandfather, Papa, and his friend Barbara went to celebrate Cousin 1. And, of course, tacked a whole trip along to the bat mitzvah.
Because, really, if you're in Israel, you have to stay for more than a weekend.
And now, without further ado, the trip. Most but not all of this is taken straight from my journal, so feel very privy to my life, dear readers. (Though of course I've cut some segments of my private journal from my very public blog. I'm a sixteen year old girl. I have mean thoughts, which should not be shared on the Great Interweb. I'm kL@s5y like that.)
Sunday, 6/19/11
Arrived in Tel Aviv! We left JFK at 7:25 Saturday night, to arrive here at 1:30pm. At any rate, they said we'd arrive at 1:30; in fact, we got here by 12:45 -- "ahead of schedule", the pilots declare proudly, though that makes no sense. It's not like you can take a shortcut.
Upon arrival, we had a little bit of car drama. It was a crappy car, but my discerning father was willing to deal with it, until the door fell off. Literally -- my mother was trying to slide it shut when the entire door, the entire sheet, came flying off its hinges and into her hands. (Unfortunately, none of us had had our coffee, and missed the fantastic photo opp.) We got another car, the same kind, but with working doors. The type is "Jumpy", so, obviously, we'll be calling it the Hoompy for the duration of the vacation. (This makes sense because there's no J sound in Hebrew, and we're trying to blend in here in our oversize white van.)
After picking up the Hoompy, we returned to the Ben Gurion airport to pick up Papa & B. Because there were no real lunch options, we were stuck at a cafe-type place next to baggage claim. The coffee was reheated bitter schlock. (See the Yiddish? It's like I'm a natural-born Israeli.) While waiting for Papa and B., we had some more drama re: GP1's whisker. You see, he'd been cultivating that whisker for months; in February, he was devastated when my mom, seeing it for the first time, exclaimed, "hey, you have something on your chin!" and ripped it out. Now, he's fiercely protective of his one hair, and it's repulsive. It's about two inches long, white, and pokes out of a freckle on the right side of his jaw.
Naturally, as his big sister I was mocking both the whisker and his attachment to it. Eventually, I offered him a dollar to pluck it. He asked for $5; I agreed, but with the stipulation that I be the one to remove it, to allow for maximum dramatic tension. He consented, but I then realized I didn't have exact change. Luckily, my dad, equally disgusted by the whisker, provided $2. I had the nail-care set in my purse that a dear friend gave me when I stopped picking at my nails, and used the tweezers from that to do the deed. Now, everyone's happy: Jonah's $5 richer, and the rest of the world has one fewer facial hair catastrophe to cope with.
Papa and B. did eventually arrive, and then we headed over to Little Israel. Uncle Punk had recommended it, as it's very close to the airport, and, he said, gave a good overview of the geography and buildings of Israel. (Later, we learned that he had recommended it having never actually visited. Good job, Uncle Punk.)
This turns out to be true only if you visit Little Israel directly upon landing, before you actually look at a map.
Fortunately, I was in just that position, and found it charming, sharing none of my parents' and Papa's outrage over the various inaccuracies. Little Israel was cute, in a kitschy sort of way, a mini approximation of the country with tiny signposts pointing the names of each site, like "David's Tomb" or "National Fishery Plaza" -- that sort of thing. I especially enjoyed the Western Wall, where, if you pushed a button, little figurines would daven, mechanically bending at their tiny waists. It was especially nice because you could hear, faintly, ABBA piped in to the miniature baseball stadium next door. It's the sort of area that could use some more Dancing Queens.
All in all, Little Israel was pleasant enough, but I couldn't help but think that Disney could have done it better. I would have appreciated some brochures explaining some of the more esoteric spots ("Swine Palace"), and noticed there were loads of unavailed-of sponsorship opportunities. I lack the Hebrew to express that sentiment to the Little Israel workers, of course, which is a real shame. Still, there was a decent gift shop, so I guess they did okay: a solid B- performance, I'd say. But I'm a tough critic.
Then we drove to the hotel in Netanya. Nothing's fallen off the Hoompy, so far, but it's getting more and more unpleasant. My dad's driving -- it's stick-shift, which seems to make him less likely to check his BlackBerry at stoplights and more likely to mumble threateningly under his breath. I tried to stay focused on this journal or on the window, so as to see as little of the car's interior as possible. At one point, I spotted a bit of sticky gum plastered to the door. When I complained, B. tried to pluck it off with a tissue -- a valiant effort, except then she was stuck clutching a tissue with someone else's congealed, yellowy gum. Guess she didn't think that one through all the way.
Had a disconcerting dinner at the hotel. Five or so mangy cats strolled around us. At one point, my mom felt something brush her leg. She assured us it wasn't a cat, but refused to say what it was; after great interrogation, she admitted it was a cockroach. Later, I performed my standard hotel bed bug / scorpion check (we're in the Middle East! there could definitely be scorpions!) and found some suspicious black smears on my sheets. Luckily, I had the blanket I had brought for the plane, and slept under that.
Monday, 6/20/11
Used Hebrew for the first time this morning! "Boker tov!", I chirped to the people in the elevator. I think I said it with conviction, because one woman smiled and responded with a fast string of Hebrew. Everyone else smiled and nodded, so I did too. Pretty sure I passed as a legitimate Israeli right there.
After a thankfully uneventful breakfast, we drove to the Caesarea national park -- because, according to my mother, it's a travesty to miss a national park. Caesarea consists of various stages of ancient ruins, from around 100BCE to 1,000CE. It was well done, if hot, with the appropriate amount of gift shops. There, B. became enchanted with Roman Glass, which a certain shop claimed was extracted from where we stood. Later, as we walked around the aqueduct (surprisingly interesting), my dad picked up a bit of sea glass and offered it to her.
"Look what I found for you!", he said. "Roman glass!".
Skeptics.
Also, B.'s taken to petting the mangy cats that turn out to be ubiquitous in Israel, and GP1's started to do the same. Upon my expression, she said, apologetically, that she's a cat person. Ew.
Later in the afternoon, we all went down to the beach. I, at that point sick of but still civil towards my family, decided that was an opportune moment for some alone time, and went for a long walk along the shoreline. First, I encountered an old man, who grinned lecherously and said something in Hebrew. I said I only spoke English, and he came over, grabbed my hand, and kissed it; when he gestured at his cheek, as if I should kiss it, I pushed him away. He wasn't threatening at all, since I had several inches on him and he was well over 70; it's just that I don't get that close to old men -- or any men, really -- in Speedos.
Then I past a morbidly obese woman, well over 300 pounds, in a string bikini. I assumed she was wearing the bottom piece, but it wasn't visible under her rolls of fat. (If you remember a certain scene in Norbit, it was reminiscent of that. If you didn't see Norbit, don't.) She was scarier than the old man, especially when I realized that if I were to laugh (as was my initial inclination) she could probably have beaten me in a fist fight. Of course, she gave no indication that she was the violent type, and I've never in my life have been in a fist fight. Still, I like to think that if push were to come to shove I could hold my own. After that, I decided my family wasn't so bad after all and went back to join them.
GP1 then spent a while crawling around on his knees and stuffing sand in his shirt, making it misshapen and drooping. He kind of looked like a legless old woman with a massive, sagging bosom. My mom seemed to think this was perfectly normal. Then he started eating sand and letting his grainy saliva dribble from his mouth to the ground. My mom snapped at him at this point, chastising him because "spitting is gross". True, of course, but I really don't think that's the main issue here. He's an odd bird, GP1 is.
As GPs 1 & 2 and I stood by the taps near the boardwalk, rinsing our feet, I awkwardly flirted with a genial fellow. Our conversation went like this:
Genial Fellow: Did you know there's a water shortage across Israel?
Me: I don't believe you.
Genial Fellow: It's true! Like the Dead Sea!
Ahem -- upon further research, it turns out Genial Fellow was correct. Still, weird conversation starter. I mean, water shortages?! That's even worse than colleges.
Tuesday, 6/21/11
Breakfast this morning led to the discovery that the water GP1 was gulping down yesterday was from the hand-washing station. Serves him right for not being a caffeine addict. There have been lots of pastries at breakfast, which is marvelous, and probably the best part of the Seasons Netanya hotel. (Not to be the requisite malcontent of the family vacation [though, parenthetically, I'm a fantastic malcontent], but the hotel questionnaire had already been half filled in. Which I complained about. I also wrote that the rooms lacked clocks, washcloths, clean sheets, and drip coffee. Clocks. These aren't 5-star amenities I'm asking for here. Some spoons in the dining room would have been great too; for breakfast, my mom ate her yogurt with a serving ladle. Just sayin'.)
Afterward, we drove from Netanya to the Bahai gardens in Haifa. There was a bit of drama because the gum B. had so kindly removed from my door had somehow escaped from her tissue and gotten smeared across the backseat. She's denying everything, though, and claims there must have been a gum smear there all along. Sure.
The Bahai gardens were cool, but parts were partitioned off, which made my mother quite peeved, and we merely had several unsuccessful attempts at getting into different levels. Then we tried to find the Elijah house and the Stella Caves before my mother sighed heavily and said in her martyr voice "okay, if nobody elese cares about this let's just go to Tzvat and go to the hotel" and then ignored our feeble protests that maybe we could keep looking for the Elijah museum.
Finally arrived at the hotel around 6:45, after much difficulty and many of my father's encouraging mutterings to the Hoompy. I'm in a room with GPs 1 & 2; for some reason, they've gotten the real bed and I've been relegated to the cot. Then my mom took 45 minutes to rearrange the furniture and put the bags in different rooms. And then we went to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It was kosher, and surprisingly good; I had fish kebabs, sweet potato ravioli, and coconut cake. Most importantly, I got to show off my Hebrew: zeh ta’im!
Wednesday, 6/22/11
Oi, what a day. Too tired to do a good recap -- here's the bullet-point version:
8:00 - Breakfast opens. I go by myself, bringing my book (Toni Morrison's Paradise -- not exactly uplifting, unsurprisingly)
8:30 - My mom joins me at breakfast. I have some more fish and fresh bread and fish and pastries. Israelis are really good at breakfast, evidently.
9:00 - I go outside to the patio (gorgeous views) and read.
11:00 - My dad goes to pick up Gilad, our tour guide, from the bus station.
11:30 - With Gilad, we go to see some more ruins. This country has an awful lot of ruins. They've had a lot of wars. I'm starting to think "ruins" may be the theme of this trip.
12:15 - Ooh, Artists' Colony! Lots of great shops and poking around, but Gilad is a man on a mission and pulls us around to his favorite shops and artists. To be fair, they do seem to be the best, but I want to see all the shops!
1:00 - Lunch at a cute little cafe by a weaving shop. I have a great sandwich with sprouts, Tzvat cheese, olives, and cucumbers.
1:45 - More artists.
2:30 - Turns out Kaballah world center is located in Tzvat. Kaballah is weird. There's a movie; at the end, GP2 raises her hand and very earnestly asks if any women were involved. I refrain from offering up the example of Madonna. Kaballah lady doesn't look like she'd have much of a sense of humor about good ol' Madge.
3:30 - Oh hey, guess we're going white-water rafting on the Jordan river now! In an unprecedented move, Papa announces he's joining us.
4:00 - We're on the water! Moving very, very slowly. GP1 & my dad are rowing.
4:10 - I take GP1's place. We're cruising now!
4:20 - This is boring. My mom takes my place, after my gentle reminders that this is what makes couples strong.
4:35 - Okay, we're done. Some rapids at the end, but not too bad. Some gallant gentlemen help us out of the boat. JK. They're the Israeli equivalent of frat boys.
4:40 - The van to pick us up should be here at 5. They thought it would take us an hour to raft 2 miles. Cool.
5:00 - Yeah, no van.
5:30 - Finally, the van arrives!
5:40 - We're reunited with Gilad! We head to the Hoompy.
5:45 - My dad decides he has to change. he unlocks Hoompy but takes the keys, so we can sit in the car in the sun without air-conditioning.
5:55 - My dad returns. Now he goes off to buy water.
6:05 - Annnnd we're off! I ask Gilad to where; he says to dinner, thank God.
6:20 - Headfake! We're going to look at some more ancient ruins before dinner. Great, I think. Because that's what this day's been lacking.
6:50 - Okay, now Gilad's talking about the brave little man who single-handedly revived Hebrew. It's pretty cool, actually. Someone should definitely call Hollywood about that one.
7:30 - We finally sit down for dinner. It's great. Gilad does have excellent restaurant recommendations. The mint lemonade is especially divine. I have 5 glasses.
9:00 - I really, really have to pee. The restaurant doesn't have customer bathrooms, but there are public bathrooms across the street. They're really, really gross. I don't go.
9:30 - Back at the hotel! I pee. And all is well.
Thursday, 6/23/11
My dad demanded we be on the road by 8:30 -- not this crowd's instinct. First, we drive for a while -- I'm not sure where, since I'm stuck in the third row with GPs 1 & 2. Gilad talks about the history of the fern trees along the side of the row. I admire the scenery; it's a gorgeous area, all hilly and rocky and scraggly, which doesn't sound so appealing but really works quite nicely.
At 9:15, we ended up at the Benediction Church of the Miracle of Fish and Loaves. (Jesus multiplied 2 fish and 5 loaves of bread to make enough to feed 5,000 people and have 12 baskets of crumbs left over. Gilad spoke about how these numbers are important, keeping in mind that Jesus's audience was Jewish: 2 tablets from Mount Sinai, 5 books of Torah, 12 tribes of Israel. Cool, right?) My mom took lots of pictures for her mom, and I felt inappropriately dressed.
Then we drove (very, very slowly -- we were stuck behind a tank) to some more ancient ruins! A small town of about 70 families from around 500CE. We took lots of pictures pretending to stomp on grapes and turn the olive oil press. We also visited the town's synagogue, and Gilad explained the history of ancient synagogue architectures. And then GP2 was outraged some more about the treatment of women in 500CE (they couldn't come inside the synagogue).
At 12:30, we stopped at the Golan Heights national park. We saw lots of vultures and -- wait for it! -- ancient ruins! A church and Bedoin homes from 700CE. Then we looked at a pretty view of Golan Heights for a while. It was supposed to be in the shape of a camel, an allegation that had triggered lots of flowing prose and poetry, but I didn't see it. I never do.
After Golan Heights, we went on a river walk. My mom, based on absolutely no prior knowledge, assured us it wouldn't be more than 12 inches deep. When we saw a sign warning we might have to swim, my dad shrugged it off, dismissing it and saying it must have been written by their lawyers.
Since I'm foreshadowing so beautifully, I guess you know what happened next.
We all got soaked, of course. Papa bowed out early, at mid-thigh height; the rest of us kept going until hip height. At one point, we passed a group of Hasidic boys splashing around in the water. I had already hitched up my thankfully inappropriately-short-for-Benediction-Church shorts, and my parents helpfully suggested I whip off my t-shirt and walk through the group in a sports bra, thereby ensuring a pathway for us all. I didn't.
Now, it's important that I keep the times in here, because I need to make a point to my parents: we never eat lunch on time. Every day, I start getting cranky around 12:30, because I get hungry! I need to eat every few hours, a concept my parents don't seem to understand. Such as this day, Thursday, June 23rd, when we didn't eat lunch until 3. Oi.
After lunch, we went to some shops!
Just kidding. We went to look at more ruins.
I sat that one out. Ruins are hot, you know, and all the roofs have fallen down and nobody's bothered to reconstruct them, so there's no shade. And at some point, once you've seen 6 sites of 7th century ruins, it feels like you've seen them all. So I sat on a picnic bench in the shade near the gift shop.
On the way out, my mother had to take a picture by the national park sign (right -- this was another national park). She petitioned "all children who love their mother" to be in the picture again, a phrase that, quite frankly, she really overuses. And again, I had to remind her to shut Hoompy's door, because she was letting out all the AC.
Friday, 6/24/11
Exhausted -- this'll be very brief. Today we were in the Old City, and:
- Gilad gave a very long overview of Jerusalem's history
- We saw the city from some stunning vantage points
- I hung out in the gift shop while my family want on a a walk through the water tunnels in King David's Palace. (I'm quite glad I didn't do that -- it was a tight squeeze, and I get pretty claustrophobic.)
- We saw a church where Catholics go and lots of people clean the rock where Jesus was cleaned.
- Walked through the now underground outside of the Temple. It was interesting, but tight in some places and I got claustrophobic and cried a little bit and I think Gilad thought I was a total wimp.
- Walked through the Jewish quarters, briefly, and then through the Arab quarters, stopping for falafel.
- Went back to the hotel (Jerusalem Inbal -- quite lovely) and got ready for Cousin 1's Friday night Shabbat service.
- Went to synagogue, and...
She was just hangin' out in shul, praying along. First, my dad nudged me. "Who does that woman in front of us remind you of?", he asked.
"Uh, I dunno," I replied intelligently. "Sarah Silverman?"
"Yup." I stared at him.
"Not really?"
"She's in town."
AJKLDSFKFDSLFDKLDJKLS.
It was super exciting. After services, I knew that if I didn't say hi I'd regret it for the rest of my life. I came up with a script in my head -- charming and a little witty, but not trying too hard.
And then I said hi and shook her hand and she said, "Hi, I'm Sarah" all warmly and all I could think of was "Oh my God you are the coolest person ever I have such a girl crush on you and I want to be you because you're actually my favorite Jew; like, when I make lists of cool famous Jews you're always number one, even in front of Adam Sandler, because you're so funny and adorable and winsome".
Luckily, I didn't actually say that -- I did, however, blurt out "Oh my God this is so cool, I've been staring at the back of your head for the past 20 minutes trying to figure out if you're really you" and she smiled awkwardly and then I just shouted "anyway, SHABBAT SHALOM" and ran away.
Probably the highlight of my life so far.
Saturday, 6/25/11
Ugh, again, dunno how much energy I have to write. It'll be a list of highlights again:
- Breakfast at hotel; tried and was unimpressed with 5 pastries.
- Cousin 1's bat mitzvah, from 9:15 - 12:15. You read that right; three hours. They're reform, too; I wonder what Yom Kippur services would have been like. The entire thing was in Hebrew, Cousin 1's speech and everything. I kvelled. She really did an extraordinary job. I'm so, so proud of her.
- Lovely luncheon outside the synagogue. The watermelon was cut like sharks' teeth!
- Went back with Cousin 1 to their apartment to get a bathing suit. Ended up staying for 2 hours.
- Turned out non-guests can't go to the pool. Dangit.
- Uncle Punk, Aunt N., Cousins 1-4, my parents, siblings, & I go to a local park instead.
- We go out to dinner. We have to drive out of Jerusalem; everything's closed for Shabbat. We go to a falafel place.
- Poor Cousin 1's exhausted. She's been to 4 bat mitzvah parties and hasn't gone to bed before 12 once this week. She just wants to go to bed. Guess nobody in the family asked her what she wanted to do. We're jerks. I feel very guilty.
- Return to hotel. Check Facebook. Write this. Go to bed.
This morning we had a later start, leaving the hotel around 9:30. (I think Gilad was a little peeved.) First, we went to John the Baptist's mother's weekend house, where John met his cousin Jesus for the first time (both were in their mothers' wombs). Then we visited a park where Gilad pointed out ancient irrigation techniques: the plug is released from a giant cistern, and various pathways are blocked off to direct the water to flow in a certain direction. It was surprisingly cool, and the sort of thing GP1 would have loved were he not clutching at his side, head, stomach, or throat, and moaning in agony. (GP1 is on the cusp of adolescence, and is therefore on the whiny, angsty side.)
Then we visited the Chagall windows in a hospital. The windows were gorgeous, but, as my dad pointed out, the sanctuary they were displayed in was lacking -- low ceilings, cramped space, etc. We then went to lunch, a cute place with sandwich sort of fare (I went with the goat cheese toast, as did my mother -- zeh ta'im!). My mother was despondent that herbs and flowers are so much cheaper in Israel. After a leisurely dessert (ice cream) and iced coffee slush (exactly what it sounds like, and quite yummy) Gilad was eager to move on. We stopped by a few picture taking spots, including an old Jordanian bunker, from before Israel's independence, before dropping Papa and B. off at the hotel.
We went back to the Old City, since we hadn't yet seen the Wall. The Wall was a funny experience. One one hand, I was pissed about the stark gender inequality; the men got a full library, podiums, indoor sanctuary, prime placement closest to the ark, while the women were crammed into a space about a third the size of the men's with a few folding chairs. On the other hand, I actually really liked praying with only women; that's not an experience I've had before, and it was something more meaningful than I had expected. I wasn't really into the Wall because of its connection to the holy Temple, either; there are other underground places that are actually closer to where the ark stood. I liked being with all those women, and all the prayers stuck in the Wall. I loved knowing that so many prayers, hopes, pleas, and thanks have been made by women in my place and surrounding me. I love words, and I love writing; for me, writing out my prayers made them seem more important and lasting than the ones I say every day or at synagogue. Of course I believe that God hears all prayers, but the ones stuck in the crevices of the Wall are blessed by other people as well -- everyone who comes to the Wall sees them, and they're part of a greater, more tangible collection than my private, day-t0-day prayers.
After the Wall, we went to find GP1 a tallis. After much deliberation he finally found one. It's excellent, made of a heavier, woven fabric, with stripes of blue and silver.
Though I'd been telling my parents all day I would have to shower before the bat mitzvah party, we didn't get back to the hotel until after 7 -- and the party started at 6:30. I was ready by 7:30, but my dad was furious it had taken me "so long" -- I don't think he appreciates what normal teenage girl turn-around time is like. And then he got lost on the way. You'd think he could have spent that time finding directions, but evidently not.
The party was fun, and Cousin 1 clearly had a great time. I'm really so proud of her -- if you're reading this, Cousin 1, know that. The past couple of years have been rougher for her than for a lot of 12-year-olds, what with moving to Israel knowing absolutely zero Hebrew, and she's not only navigated them beautifully but she's really flourished. She's a good egg, that one.
Monday, 6/27/11
Exhausted again, so I'll just list what we did today.
9:10 - Left Inbal. I was ready at 8:30.
11:00 - After a stop to see a view and take a family photo, we arrive at Masada. We see a video giving an overview of its history. It's not very good.
11:30 - We take a cable car up to Masada instead of walking. It's very crowded, but I'm grateful.
11:33 - We're at Masada! We sit down. It's at least 90° here in the shade. Gilad talks a lot about King Herod the Paranoid.
11:55 - We walk around Masada. It's over 100° in the sun. We see some homes, gates, kitchens, views, etc. I'm a fan of the bathhouse, which is shady and cooler.
1:15 - Okay, it's too hot. GP2 and I retreat to the shade near the cable car, next to the water taps. We play various games involving throwing water at the loser. I win most of them. She reminds me there's a drought.
2:00 - We all take the cable car back down the mountain.
2:03 - Lunch in the Masada cafe: cold falafel and old salad!
2:30 - Stop at the Masa gift shop. If you buy Ahava products you get a discount at the Dead Sea! Obviously, we do.
3:00 - 15-minute hike in the blazing midday sun to a waterfall and pool. Several Birthright groups are there. (Note to self: Birthright = good way to meet nice Jewish boys in college?? Check that out.) We all go in the pool. Gilad photobombs some Birthright group pictures. I'm liking him more.
4:00 - Dead Sea! The water feels oily and heavy, not gritty and salty like I had expected. My feet sting; I have lots of scrapes and cuts from painful shoes, and the salt water makes me acutely aware of all of them. (We were advised not to shave a few days in advance, because the water makes any cut really, really painful.) We -- including Papa, but not B. -- float around on our backs. My mom works on a flailing/scooting motion, which she calls "boating along". It's not very effective, and she doesn't get very far.
5:00 - We move on to the black mud. This is fun! We slather it all over ourselves and pose for lots of pictures. I'm concerned my dad and GP2 aren't wearing enough sun screen, though -- it's super, super sunny.
5:30 - We rinse off in the outdoor showers. I realize we should have gone back to the ocean to rinse all the mud off before trying to get the salt out too.
6:00 - I guess I'm supposed to feel rejuvenated now? Except we definitely didn't leave the mud on for long enough. We drive to our next hotel, Ein Gedi.
6:15 - Ahem. Now I learn that Ein Gedi isn't actually a hotel. It's a kibbutz. Oi.
6:20 - I'm in a very small room with GPs 1 & 2. Oi.
7:15 - Dinner at the kibbutz dining hall. Pretty good, actually.
8:15 - I finish Paradise. Weird, weird book. I'll have to reread it.
Tuesday, 6/28/11
I was rudely awoken at 7:30, since the rest of my family, for some inexplicable reason, wanted a tour of the kibbutz at 8. I skipped that, instead breakfasting for an hour and a half. The coffee was the best we've had in Israel so far. I finished packing -- we were only in the kibbutz for one night -- and we were on the road again in the Hoompy by 9:30.
We arrived at a camel-riding place around 11. I was rather apprehensive -- I direct you to my horse experience in Costa Rica. The leader of our little caravan was a kindly and portly gentleman who had a fondness for bad jokes about my "dangerous and wild" camel, Margo. (I was very glad she was named Margo, and not some intense Hebrew name I couldn't pronounce.) The camel ride itself wasn't bad; a camel's wider than a horse, and I'll be walking with a stiff waddle for a couple days, but with a gentle, hip-swaying gait. And the Negev was stunning.
After the camel tour, we refilled our water bottles, and set out to see ... RUINS! A town from the 4th century of about 40 families, with two churches, lots of arches, and many, many cisterns. I am an expert on cisterns now. I have to say, though, it seems like a pretty awful place for a town. We're in the middle of the desert.
We didn't have lunch until 4. It was at a Bedoin camp, which was pretty great. We met our host, Salman (name derived from the Arabic "salaam", or peace) on the highway, since getting to the camp involved some off-road travel and there's no way we could have found it on our own. We were greeted by 4 little boys, between 4 and 10, and Salman reemerged with a huge mound of dough.
As he beat it, he spoke about Bedoin life. The four children surrounding him were his; he has 8 children, all sons; two, it seemed, were from a first marriage. We sat on long, flat cushions, cleverly arranged around the fire so that the wind would blow the smoke away from our eyes. Salman spoke glowingly about the health benefits of camel milk (evidently an up-and-coming cancer treatment is made of it?), but with some prodding admitted his sons don't drink it. (There's no time for him to visit the camels and milk them. They roam free in the desert; when asked where, he waved expansively towards the hills and shrugged, "oh, until Egypt" -- about 50 miles.) He spoke about the need for preservation of tradition, and about problems with the rising generations, but sends his sons to the local, public Jewish school. Salman was a very conflicted man.
Then we ate Bedoin bread, a thick, chewy, layered texture, and rice and vegetables and chicken. (I avoided the chicken -- I've been a vegetarian for about a month and a half now). We scopped it up with a thin, spongy, pita-like bread with our right hands.
Now GP1 wants to be a Bedoin.
And I want to go to bed. We're staying at an Isrotel tonight -- giggle at the pun with me now...
Wednesday, 6/29/11
Exhausting day, made worse by my brother's brattiness. His new thing is declaring arbitrary lines of separation he doesn't want me to cross. He's been singing nonstop, too, and telling inane stories to GP2 that involve lots of awful accents. Anyway, today we:
- Tried to leave the Isrotel by 9, but GP1 threw a hissy fit about seats, so we didn't get off until 9:40.
- Drove for half an hour; stopped where Lot's wife was turned into salt; took some salt rocks.
- Drove for 2 hours, GPs 1 & 2 singing nonstop and GP1 continually poking me.
- Stopped at Ben-Gurion's burial site.
- Drove another hour.
- At 1, arrived at a mountain where Gilad talked about David and Goliath. He assured us it wouldn't take more than 25 minutes -- 30, tops.
- Left mountain at 2.
- Stopped at a gas station to grab yogurt for lunch, and met up with Uncle Punk, Aunt N., and Cousins 1-4.
- We all headed to a dig, which consisted of three parts: (1), climbing underground to a cave, an ancient basement, where we rummaged around for ancient trash (pottery, bones, charcoal, etc.) and put all the chalky dirt and rocks into buckets to carry up; (2), creating an assembly line to carry all those buckets above ground, where we sifted through them; (3) going on a tour of other, fully excavated basements or cisterns with Gilad (others went on an ancient plumbing crawl -- I Just Said No.)
- Drove to Tel Aviv; set up in hotel, a pleasant but uninteresting Sheraton.
- Dinner at a restaurant on the boardwalk called The London; uninspired food but fine.
Let's skip the prelude and go straight to today's summary.
8:00 - Breakfast at Sheraton. Fantastic bread pudding.
9:10 - Depart with Gilad.
9:30 - Cute town, the first Jewish settlement in Tel Aviv. There are some adorable shops we don't visit.
10:00 - Papa's not feeling well, and takes a cab back to the hotel. Aw. We poke around some more.
11:30 - Visit the Panach museum, the rebel resistance group integral to Israeli independence in the 40's. The group is described as the "silver platter" on which Israel was served -- that is, sad and beautiful and dead. It's well done, but it's a real downer.
12:45 - LUNCH! For the first time in days, lunch before 2:30!
2:00 - Tour of secret underground bullet factory of the 40's. It's cool, but my mom points out that we'd be horrified if it were found in Iraq. It's true; kibbutz children played 6 yards away from bullets and explosives. I'd totally sue the daycare.
4:00 - When we drop B. off to be with Papa, GPs 1 & 2 demand to stay too. My mom produces an eloquent and impassioned speech about the gravitational pull of the hotel.
4:30 - My dad, Gilad, and I set off to drive around Tel Aviv.
5:30 - We return. Gilad and my mom set up to talk business in the lobby.
5:33 - My dad gingerly asks my mom if we can go shopping. He promises GP2 he'll "buy her something pretty" if she'll join us. She doesn't. Ouch.
5:36 - My mom delivers a speech on how she's been sitting, waiting for us.
5:50 - My dad points out my mom hates shopping. Ooh, rookie mistake. Tiff escalates.
6:15 - And we're off shopping! My dad can't enjoy himself. Every other sentence in in reference to the ticking time bomb waiting in the Sheraton lobby.
7:30 - We return.
8:00 - We leave for dinner, without Papa. It's a fancy Italian place. My dad's annoyed at the concierge for recommending it, since he had asked for fast and kid-friendly. It's quite good though.
9:30 - We return to the hotel.
9:31 - My dad and I see a sign advertising "fish massage".
9:33 - We have to ask.
9:35 - Ooh, they stick your feet in a fish tank, and these little minnow-like fish eat the dead skin. GROSS.
9:36 - We go up to the rooms.
9:40 - GP1 throws a hissy fit about the light. GP2 goes to our parents' room to read. I whip out my journal, turn on the lights, and begin to write.
Friday, 7/1/11
Our last day in Israel! I'm currently on the plane, writing this. It's a hellish flight (Delta), and I'm next to the woman with the world's smallest bladder. She's visiting the WC, on average, every 45 minutes.
This morning, I woke up in Tel Aviv. I was at breakfast at 8; Papa, whose birthday it is, joined me at 9, and the rest of the family was down by 9:15. Once we were all fed, my parents, GPs 1 & 2, and I headed to Independence Hall, where Ben-Gurion & Co. declared Israel an independent state. Then we went to Carmel market, this fabulous, outdoor, craft-y market. It was crowded, of course, and my mom whined for about half an hour, clutching on to the rest of us and shrieking when she couldn't find someone within half a second. When GP1 spun a glass dreidel on a table with more glass Judaica, she pounced on that as a sin so egregious it was imperative that she bring him back to the hotel right then and there. So then it was down to my dad, GP2, and me, and it was much better.
We stopped at a pizza place for lunch, and slowly meandered back to the hotel (around 2:30). Then my parents and siblings went down to the beach. I joined them for about 5 minutes, before realizing that it was way too crowded and that I was miserable. Instead, I hung out with the free WiFi in the lobby, chatting online with friends in the air conditioning.
We had some difficulty finding the restaurant for dinner, but, luckily, my mom had made the reservation for 6:30, an hour and a half earlier than necessary to meet our 12:04am flight. (It was at Suzana, a cute place that offered great people watching. I counted 3 pairs of harem pants in an hour!). We got to the airport with little drama, and still had time to walk around and have fresh-squeezed orange juice. And now we're on the plane, coming home.
