Celebrations of Life

On a lighter note, Spring has brought many holidays to Israel: Yom HaZikaron (Remembrance Day for victims of terror and fallen soldiers), Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day), and Lag B'Omer.

Yom HaZikaron Dinner

We paid our respects on Yom HaZikaron by having dinner with international guests Jan and Bara from the Czech Republic and Caroline from Germany (Caroline is an honorary Israeli, having lived in TA for a  few years). We paused during dinner and went outside to observe the siren and saw all Israelis (human and canine alike) stopping and standing in respect. One driver must have forgotten about the custom and started beeping his horn in impatience because the bus in front of him was stopped! I hope that he was a tourist and not a native Israeli.

I also had a Yom HaZikaron ceremony in Ulpan (since my Ulpan is government subsidized, it is also slightly Zionist), where we listened to readings and also learned/sang Hebrew songs. My favorite song was "Lu Yehi," or "Let It Be." Originally, the lyricist just set Hebrew words to the Beatles' original song, but then others thought that it wasn't authentic enough, so he wrote a whole new melody: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6zN9U7mxrM  Our version was more mellow since we only had acoustic guitar for accompaniment.

Fireworks seen over Ibn Gavirol Street

Wheee!!!

 
The next day was Yom HaAtzmaut, so Zoya and I ventured down to Kikar Rabin, dodging Israelis youths with shaving cream and silly string on our way. We saw some fireworks on the way and then we watched a bit of the children's musical/dance extravaganza. I should say that this was the show put on for the children, not by them: either way, they didn't seem too interested. Some highlights of the show were "There's a Hole in the Bucket" and "With a Little Bit of Luck" (from "My Fair Lady") sung in Hebrew. After about half an hour, we decided that we'd had enough, so we purchased some overpriced Grandmother's Hair (cotton candy) and went back home. The bar downstairs played music into the wee hours of the morning, but since it was Independence Day, all the songs were in Hebrew. So at least we got a break from their usual playlist...

With cotton candy as big as our heads!!!

Mati and I had another small tiyul at the Yarkon Park and visited our small ibex friends. They hadn't grown that much, but some of them are starting to get horns already! We also met a very bold duck who was convinced that we had food and was determined to find it. On the way home, I happened upon this new geese family. They really do look like little dinosaurs, don't they?

Today is Lag Ba'Omer, which is technically only celebrated by observant Jews. A brief explanation according to what I learned in Ulpan yesteday: between Passover and Shavuot are 33 days of solemnity where the men aren't allowed to shave and people aren't allowed to get married, etc, because they are remembering the destruction of the Second Temple at the hands of the Romans (slightly ironic as I'm learning arias from La Clemenza di Tito - "The Mercy of Titus." Apparently he was only merciful to non-Jews). 

Anyway, "Lag" is really "Lahmed-Gimmel." Hebrew letters are often used as abbreviations for counting; for example, instead of "Yom Rishon" or "Yom Sh'ni" ("First Day" and "Second Day"), you will see "Alef" and "Bet" because they are the first two letters of the aptly named Alef Bet (alphabet). So in the Hebrew alphabet, Lahmed = 30 and Gimmel = 3; therefore, Lahmed-Gimmel = 33 and stands for the 33 days of Omer (which I believe means "grain" in Hebrew). Apparently on the 33rd day of Omer, Bar Kochba (whose caves I clambered through last month), finally experienced a victory in leading the Israelites against the Romans. It may also be because there was a plague during that time and on this day, the plague ceased. Either way, this means that the "period of mourning" can end, which is celebrated by making huge bonfires. The holiday is important especially to Charedim because it is on this day that boys who are 3 years old have their hair cut for the first time and begin their journey towards manhood. On this day also, religious Jews visit the grave of the famous Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai (you can look him up on your own).

For secular Jews, Lag Ba'Omer means a day off of school and an opportunity for bonfires and barbecues. This year, it also marked the Maccabi basketball team's victory against Real Madrid in the Final Four. I was wondering through the Florentine neighborhood with a friend and we decided to go into a bar to watch the last quarter. Of course they went into overtime, but in the traditional Maccabi fashion, they pulled through in the last minutes and seized victory (every diehard Maccabi fan will tell you that it is due to divine intervention). We were treated to the locals breaking into song (yes, there is an actual song) about how Maccabi is the best team in the world - one guy even did a "sexy" (or so he thought) victory dance on the bartop! It was truly a memorable night.

That's all from me! Shavua tov l'chem!

HaIsh HaYarok

Shalom chaverim, shalom chaverot!

I hope that Spring is reaching you wherever you are. We have been blessed with an exceptionally cool Spring/early Summer and I am loving it. Two weeks ago, we had torrential rain during which the streets of Tel Aviv actually flooded and getting to class in the morning was almost like being in Venice. Okay, it wasn't that much rain, but there were rivers of water pouring down the streets.

Recently in Ulpan, we read a famous children's story called "The Story of the Green Man" by Jonatan Gefen. It tells of a man who loves and is all things green. He lives in a green house, wears green clothes, has a green wife (!!), etc... One day he is driving down the green road and admiring the green scenery when he meets a blue man.

"What are you doing here?" asks the green man.
"Oh, I'm from another story," answers the blue man.
(The End)

Mirit, our Hebrew teacher, asked us if we felt like "green men" or "blue men" here in Israel. Most people agreed that they felt somewhere in between. But I said that I almost always feel like the blue man: wherever I am, I make it my home, but I don't feel at home anywhere.

It's an interesting predicament to find yourself in: when you visit a place, you have an idyllic view of the people, the culture, the environment. But when you live in a place, you see the other side of the story: some things make you love the place more, some things make you yearn for another place. I stress to people that I didn't move to Israel to escape America or to "find a better life" in some kind of Zionist dream. I still follow current events in America and not a week goes by that I haven't written to some senator or representative about some issue or another. Here in Israel, I get trapped in the liberal bubble of Tel Aviv and my news is limited to what I hear from friends or in Ulpan. I tend not to watch or to read the news because I get depressed from all the emphasis on destruction and terror.

But I am digressing. I have been thinking a lot about "The Story of the Green Man" because it really speaks to every aspect of my life. When I was growing up in the Northwoods, I felt that I belonged to the peaceful environment of the woods, but I never saw eye-to-eye with the local kids that I went to school with. Because my family had traveled a lot and my sister and I were so involved in the arts, we often felt like the odd girl out and struggled to belong. Kids would tease me for my strange foods or Nutella sandwiches that I would bring for lunch, but of course, when they tried those weird foods, they loved them.

In high school, my mentors would say, "Just wait until you get to college, then you'll find people that you can relate to." Well, I got to college and I found myself in the same predicament. I was a geologist who liked to wear things other than jeans, puffy vests, and Chacos and on the other hand, I was a singer who didn't like to wear tons of makeup, liked to talk about things other than my voice type and American Idol, and who liked to go on fieldtrips and get really muddy once in a while. I felt closer to the geologists, yet I felt called to sing and to perform.

On a religious level, the same things applied. I was brought up celebrating Jewish and Christian holidays, but I never connected to either faith. For many years, I thought Easter just meant that you got giant chocolate bunnies that would then reside in the refrigerator for months afterwards until only the ears were left. I went to church with my mom because I loved singing in the choir and I enjoyed the sermons about peace and love. But I came to realize that I didn't believe all the other things that church entailed and I stopped going. It took me some time before I could sing religious music again without feeling like a hypocrite. There again, I was the blue man searching for my story.

I've never felt that I was able to really let my whole self out. For one thing, I've never been entirely sure what my whole self might be. In each place that I've lived, I've found another piece of my personal puzzle and it becomes incorporated into my life. I ride my bike like an Amsterdammer through the streets of Tel Aviv, which doesn't always gel with the Israeli drivers. I collect bits of nature wherever I go and I still get rock presents from my family and geologist friends. I'm studying classical singing, but I will listen to anyone with a soulful and interesting voice, from Montserrat Caballé and Ann Wilson to Jim Morrison and Robert Plant. I love the liveliness of Tel Aviv but I wait all week for the peace and quiet of Shabbat. And then again, I love Shabbat but I also get frustrated with the religious un-freedoms imposed upon all Israelis by the ultra-orthodox grip on the government.

I could continue, but I think you see my point.

Where does the blue man fit in? And for that matter, where does the green man belong? Will he stay forever in his green utopia, seeing life through emerald-colored glasses? Or will he venture out and find that actually, he really likes pink and orange, too?

What do you think?

Daniella's Epic Birthday Week in Tel Aviv!

This year, my birthday fell on the last day of Pesach, which made it a bit tricky to coordinate schedules with friends. Zoya and I made up for it by crashing a Pesach picnic at Gan Meir (the park next to where I lived last year). We inadvertently brought kitniot* food with us (hummus and rice crackers), but there was more than enough food to go around and we had a great time talking and singing with everyone there. And I had many versions of Happy Birthday sung to me in different languages :)

 Post-picnic :)

Channeling my inner-Amsterdammer, biking through Tel Aviv in a dress and heels. 

 

Last weekend, I had my real birthday picnic at the Park HaYarkon.

l-r, people and their countries of origin:

Simon (UK), me (who knows?), Marina (Russia, but now Israel), Jan (Czech Republic), Zoya (Moldava/Israel/Canada), Gonzalo (Spain), Cecile (France, but now Israel), Karen (USA, now Israel), Shay (Israel)  

(missing in body, but not spirit: Mati (Israel))

 With Marina, my Russian friend from Ulpan - she made me a birthday painting!

My scarf was also a present from Cecile - how did she know that turquoise is my favorite color?

l-r: Elsa (France, now Israel), Karin (Israel), Simon, and me

 The last remnants of last year's Kitah Aleph at Ulpan Gordon.

Missing in body, but not in spirit: Pilar!!!

Happy picnickers!

C'est tout, mes amis!

*And now, a bit about kitniot.

What are kitniot foods, I hear you ask? Foods that could possibly ferment, like beans, rice, corn, etc.

Who can and cannot eat them? NOBODY KNOWS!!!

Last year, I asked friends who said that the Persian Jews (ie: Sephardic Jews) are allowed to eat rice, so if you're Sephardic, then you can eat kitniot.

This year, we asked Zoya's Russian family (they were eating rice), and they said that it's the Sephardic Jews who aren't allowed to eat them.

Then according to the Turkish girl who hosted the Pesach picnic Turkish Jews used to be allowed to eat kitniot until a rabbi about 100 years ago announced that they really oughtn't eat kitniot.

But Mati, who is also Turkish, told me that you are allowed to eat kitniot if you say a certain blessing beforehand (or something like that).

The bottom line is, everyone is confused about who is allowed to eat kitniot.

Personally, I don't think God wants people to suffer from indigestion from matzah-overdose every year, but that's just my agnostic, half-shiksa opinion on the matter, who am I to say?

Tiyulim - Matsada, Park HaYarkon, and the Judean Hills

As promised, here are more pictures from the last few months. Enjoy!

We're lucky to have a Jacaranda tree outside our living room window.
Here is part of the tree from a month ago and then again a few weeks later!
These pictures have not been photo-shopped :)

This is Camilla Ginger, one of the resident strays near our building. 

S/he is very affectionate and keeps trying to follow us up to our apartment!

These are pictures from my Ulpan's trip to the Matsada....

(Judean Hills near Jerusalem)

Nice folds you've got there.  

Nearing the Matsada...

 The mesa formation in the center is the Matsada.

 Our ascension to the Matsada.
We took the cable cars since there were 500 people in our group.

The view from the top...

 Tiny people on the Matsada and the Dead Sea in the distance.

Descending from the Matsada.
The square formations are remnants of the Roman army's camps.

The Dead Sea - one of my favorite places in the world.

Back in Tel Aviv, Zoya's little sister came to visit us over Passover vacation.

We put her to work (sort of) in a paddle boat on the Yarkon River.

With my long-lost Russian sisters :)

 

Paddling away....

The first duck family of the season!

We also saw these cool guys along the riverbank.

This mama duck was the sole guardian of 12 ducklings!

 Duck herding...

Over Pesach, I went on a tiyul in the Judean Hills with Zoya. 

Here's the first cave (Luzit Cave) that we visited.

 The view from inside.
Ancient Israelites used to harvest the top meter for building materials. 

Since the material is sandstone and easily eroded, there aren't any remaining ruins from that time.

Prickly pear flower (left) and an unidentified desert flower (right)

Views of the Judean Hills from our climb to Mitzpe Masua.

The watch tower at Mitzpe Masua.

 This is why English lessons are important.
(Or spell/grammar-check, at the very least)

 More desert flowers

The thistles in Israel are particularly prickly.

We also crawled through (and slid and pulled ourselves up and through) the Bar Kochba caves. 

In ancient times, the Israelites dug narrow tunnels through the caves so that the Roman soldiers couldn't follow in their clunky armor.

It was a tight squeeze for us, too!

Afterwards, we visited a vineyard - 

what better way to end an exhausting/dehydrating day in the desert than with a wine tasting?

Domesticated desert flowers.

Also last week, Mati and I discovered that the goats at the HaYarkon zoo have had babies!!!

The lady turkeys weren't impressed by this guy, but I was!

Sleepy goats...

Hope that you enjoyed the pictures! Stay tuned for pictures from my epic birthday week!