Well, it's 3:08am and I'm severely jet lagged. When I woke up today I felt as if it was maybe 7am or 8am or so based on the fact that I had gone to sleep, completely exhausted from 26 hours of travelling, at 10pm the night before; but looking up out of my window, through the muddied spots of dried rain that a strong storm had left while I was gone, I noticed that the light was not coming directly from the sun, but rather dimly reflecting off of the west-facing side of a building outside of my window. Well, I thought to myself, it's definitely the afternoon. It must be 2 or so. Nope. 3:50pm. I had slept for 18 hours. I guess I learned that circadian rhythms are curious things that do indeed exist and are a force to be reckoned with. So, now I'm here with my friend 3:10am. I think most people would probably take some Nyquil, Ambien or Melatonin; And I really wish I had one of those options right now, but in haste I left my melatonin pills in the US. Oh well, night writing is better than day writing and I'll get to see a sunrise. :).
As for Israel, she's good. She's a little colder and less energetic than when I left in late November. Not as if everyone is completely frozen in this comparatively balmy weather, but there's a notable sort of hibernation taking place in the form of packed coffee houses and thinly populated streets that were truly teeming in November. Way back then, I could still sleep without a big blanket and I would sweat during the day. But now the days are short. Soldiers walk the streets of Tel Aviv with their rugged looking winter apparel. And 3:50pm seems like 6pm. Things change. And I'm glad for that. A novelty, whether in the air or in a life, is welcomed, simply because it's a novelty - at least for me. This novelty is one in a series of many, I'm sure, that will surprise me, will take some time getting used to and will generally keep me happy. Because after all, I did move here in part for novelty - America is great and I missed everything back there. At times I wondered why I was about to dessert people who love and care about me, and why I would leave that nice comfortable way of life in the rear view mirror - but in each place, America and Israel, it didn't take long for me to know that the chair was comfortable after I sat in it for a couple of minutes.
In America, just getting off the plane was a sigh of relief. Things were solid. Things were clean. People smile out of nowhere. Cars, and people, are all of a sudden gigantic. You know - America. I spent three weeks living the American life again - eating very good food, meeting up with old friends, hanging out with my family, cooking in a real kitchen, sitting outside my house with a noticible noise absent - the honking. Even hearing 100% English was a relief. It's very easy to fall in love with these things all over again. And I did. The thought of returning to a place without really any of these things was almost painful. And I'm not going to lie - the thought returning soon to America did cross my mind. I felt as if I had been given a heavy and irreversible dose of domestication. But in the midst of all of that confusion and pain I remembered how I had felt before leaving for Israel in March. That the feeling of sheer adventure and following a conviction 7,000 across the world was an exhilarating one and something that I felt was a necessity in my young life.
From the second that I stepped off the plane in Israel, I felt that feeling again. Things were still wild and different. Lugging my guitar, 50lb suitcase and full backpack on to a train and then into a "sherut" - a taxi with about 8 other people - I was surrounded by Hebrew, little Filipinos yapping away, young Russians in love and young American jews pushing their way through the train with broken Hebrew and god awful accents, it felt good to be back in the chaos again. And in chaos I will keep living - through the ordeal of finding a kibbutz to live on, through working on said kibbutz, through the horrors of basic training and the delights of putting on a uniform and guarding a border. It'll be a great adventure, even if it's a little uncomfortable. But who said adventures were comfortable. I've been on many, and comfortable they most decidedly weren't. I'll have time for comfort and good food and quiet living conditions and family in the future. For now, I'll make my way through the chaos here, after I finally get my sleep cycle fixed.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Coming to America
No - I'm not writing about the Eddie Murphy movie from the 80s - although that's an exemplary comedy from its time. I'm actually coming home for 3 weeks (Nov 22 - Dec 14) in a few days. It's been 8 months since I've enjoyed the pleasures of home; and while the list of things that I've been missing out here in Tel Aviv is not that long, the things on it are oh so important:
1.) Chipotle
2.) Hot sauce
3.) Chipotle
4.) Seeing my family (probably should come before chipotle)...
5.) Skiing
6.) Seeing old friends
7.) Wearing a jacket
8.) Going to Blackhawk to gamble
9.) Cooking in a real kitchen
10.) Watching snow fall
11.) Making a fire
12.) Not being cut in line
13.) Listening to American accents (thought I'd never actually want to hear that).
14.) Starbucks
15.) Being lazy, stuffing my face and drinking good beer on thanksgiving
Yup. That's what I need.
If anyone who wants to meet up, send me a message on facebook (I won't have a phone!). See you soon.
1.) Chipotle
2.) Hot sauce
3.) Chipotle
4.) Seeing my family (probably should come before chipotle)...
5.) Skiing
6.) Seeing old friends
7.) Wearing a jacket
8.) Going to Blackhawk to gamble
9.) Cooking in a real kitchen
10.) Watching snow fall
11.) Making a fire
12.) Not being cut in line
13.) Listening to American accents (thought I'd never actually want to hear that).
14.) Starbucks
15.) Being lazy, stuffing my face and drinking good beer on thanksgiving
Yup. That's what I need.
If anyone who wants to meet up, send me a message on facebook (I won't have a phone!). See you soon.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tel Aviv Syndrome
Tel Aviv, translated into Hebrew as- Spring Hill - sprung up as a Jewish settlement north of the Arab city of Jafo in 1909 on the top of a sort of sand dune - as it's name implies. Jews came to escape persecution and violence leveled at them at the hands of the Arabs who, at the turn of the 20th century, were beginning to have a widespread intolerance for a growing Jewish community. The settlers who moved to the north, first to Neve Tzedek, and then on to Tel Aviv, layed the bricks for what would become the commercial capital of Israel only a few decades later. The city was founded and developed under the same frontier approach that I alluded to in a previous post - Rugged collectivism.
It seems to me that this approach to life and to development of the country dissappeared from Tel Aviv over the ensuing decades. The focus is not on Israel itself and it's crucial development as a state, but rather on being something that is largely foreign to Israel. What is commonplace here is life lived vichariously through The West. Tel Avivians' eyes light up when the topic of Europe or American lifestyles come up. Although for Tel Avivians, the latter is synonomous with obesity, stupidity, and superficiality, it is also synonomous with opportunity and excess, two important things that I feel are wanted here. The former is like the latter, only that it carries less of an x-factor, that I would say is the American Dream. In a country where the median salary is 96,000 shekels (roughly $26,000 per year), it is no surprise that when Tel Avivians, already star stuck with the American Dream that they have seen on TV and in Movies, hear that American salaries are so high and that America is not like this developing country, they switch into "escape mode" and dream of Times Square, Hollywood and big bucks. The same is also true with Europe. It is also no surprise that Tel Avivians are trying desperately to obtain passports of European Union countries by tracing back their closest relatives and scouring through European countries' laws to see if they are admissable. This "escape mode" is also the "escape" from how the country used to be. For this reason, there is a pallatable difference outside of the Tel Aviv bubble in which one can feel the nationalism, the collectivism and the altruism, even if it's thinly veiled by the typical Israeli brashness.
That's not to say that it has dissappeared completely in Tel Aviv. It's still here, only buried under the ubiquitous "banana" porn mags littered over the streets and sidewalks, the gays discos, the miles (or kilometers I should say) of strip malls full of European and American stores, and of course the also ubiquitous dog shit all over the place. It's there, in it's own special way; it's just that the pull of the developed "Western dream" that American and European influence has infused in it has trumped almost everything that once was. The "Mediterranean Capital of Cool" has no tolerance for all things non-superficial. So one can fully understand why Tel Aviv is known as "the Miami Beach of the Mediterreanan".
Is this my sanctimony seeping out? Is it getting the better of me? Not sure. I think it's just a generalization partly from the reactions that are illicited when I explain to people that I hope to live on a kibbutz in the north and that I'll be in the army.
"The army? What the fuck man? I don't understand. Why the fuck would you not try to escape that shit? You made aliyah knowing that you'd serve in the army and you still did it?"
Maybe the most Tel Avivi comment known to man. On the other hand, a comment from my friend in Jerusalem:
"That's really cool man. This is what Israel needs, more people like you who want to contribute."
Night and day. I guess it's safe to say that, although I enjoy living in this city, I need something a little more suiting.
It seems to me that this approach to life and to development of the country dissappeared from Tel Aviv over the ensuing decades. The focus is not on Israel itself and it's crucial development as a state, but rather on being something that is largely foreign to Israel. What is commonplace here is life lived vichariously through The West. Tel Avivians' eyes light up when the topic of Europe or American lifestyles come up. Although for Tel Avivians, the latter is synonomous with obesity, stupidity, and superficiality, it is also synonomous with opportunity and excess, two important things that I feel are wanted here. The former is like the latter, only that it carries less of an x-factor, that I would say is the American Dream. In a country where the median salary is 96,000 shekels (roughly $26,000 per year), it is no surprise that when Tel Avivians, already star stuck with the American Dream that they have seen on TV and in Movies, hear that American salaries are so high and that America is not like this developing country, they switch into "escape mode" and dream of Times Square, Hollywood and big bucks. The same is also true with Europe. It is also no surprise that Tel Avivians are trying desperately to obtain passports of European Union countries by tracing back their closest relatives and scouring through European countries' laws to see if they are admissable. This "escape mode" is also the "escape" from how the country used to be. For this reason, there is a pallatable difference outside of the Tel Aviv bubble in which one can feel the nationalism, the collectivism and the altruism, even if it's thinly veiled by the typical Israeli brashness.
That's not to say that it has dissappeared completely in Tel Aviv. It's still here, only buried under the ubiquitous "banana" porn mags littered over the streets and sidewalks, the gays discos, the miles (or kilometers I should say) of strip malls full of European and American stores, and of course the also ubiquitous dog shit all over the place. It's there, in it's own special way; it's just that the pull of the developed "Western dream" that American and European influence has infused in it has trumped almost everything that once was. The "Mediterranean Capital of Cool" has no tolerance for all things non-superficial. So one can fully understand why Tel Aviv is known as "the Miami Beach of the Mediterreanan".
Is this my sanctimony seeping out? Is it getting the better of me? Not sure. I think it's just a generalization partly from the reactions that are illicited when I explain to people that I hope to live on a kibbutz in the north and that I'll be in the army.
"The army? What the fuck man? I don't understand. Why the fuck would you not try to escape that shit? You made aliyah knowing that you'd serve in the army and you still did it?"
Maybe the most Tel Avivi comment known to man. On the other hand, a comment from my friend in Jerusalem:
"That's really cool man. This is what Israel needs, more people like you who want to contribute."
Night and day. I guess it's safe to say that, although I enjoy living in this city, I need something a little more suiting.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Fulbright
In an effort to add to my ridiculousness of my scattered, peicemeal life these days, I've decided to apply for a Fulbright research grant in Peru. This has been something that I've wanted to do ever since my junior year of college. And I feel that I'm pretty qualified right now and am in a good position to apply for this particular grant doing this particular research in this particular field. So why not?
Without writing out the entire proposal here, I'll just give you the start of my proposal:
Title: BoP Approaches in Peru: Inclusive Capitalism as Poverty Alleviation
The term "Base of the Pyramid" (BoP) is used for two interrelated concepts:
1. A socio-economic designation for the 4-5 billion individuals that live primarily in developing countries and whose annual per capita incomes fall below $1,500 per year (in purchasing power parity (PPP) terms); and
2. An emerging field of business strategy that focuses on products and services to serve people throughout the base of the world's income pyramid.
Proposal Summary
Recently, in the wake of the waning welfare state, many private sector initiatives have begun to pull the world's poorest people – The BoP – from the fringes of globalization and out of poverty through an unlikely means: profits. By intimately understanding the consumer needs of BoP populations, private sector firms have been tailoring the packaging, unit size and supply chains of products and services to efficiently provide equitable and viable solutions that allow the poor to enjoy the products and services that the developed world enjoys. These equitable solutions mitigate the "poverty penalty" – the premium put on basic goods due to BoP consumers' lack of credit, inability to buy goods in bulk, and distance from product origination and distribution channels. The lowering of this premium by these innovative approaches frees up disposable income, increases quality of life and is executed in an environmentally sound manner.
I propose to study current and historical private sector initiatives aimed at alleviating poverty in Peru's BoP populations through inclusive capitalism. By studying these initiatives in Peru, I will gain an understanding of the extent of this paradigm in Peru and will be able to benchmark my findings to analogous BoP research in other Latin American countries, thereby contributing to a much needed consensus on fundamental characteristics of successful BoP initiatives. It is my hope that this consensus will help guide future BoP efforts to alleviate poverty successfully.
This proposed project has a lot to do with my current position at Ashoka, the non-profit for which I work. On top of that, since I majored essentially in Spanish business, it makes a lot of sense that my major and post graduate plans would be a leveraging factor.
The grant is for an academic year starting in August of 2011, although many Israelis here tell me that I'll never come back. It's tough to hear that since my heart tells me that I will - that I'll still have this special place and special feeling for Israel after so much time. I simply feel that I have to live and to see things, and to progress professionally at the same time. A Fulbright is exactly the vehicle through which I can accomplish all of these things at once.
I just submitted the application that took up a month of my life writing to all sorts of organizations in Peru, professors from Boulder, social sector workers in Israel and many many people that corrected, critiqued and really improved my essays.
I'm terribly happy that this is behind me, but am very excited of the prospect of getting this coveted award. Wish me luck with this endeavor as well. I'll need it, as Fulbright scholarships are about as competitive as they come. And of course, I'll keep you updated.
Without writing out the entire proposal here, I'll just give you the start of my proposal:
Title: BoP Approaches in Peru: Inclusive Capitalism as Poverty Alleviation
The term "Base of the Pyramid" (BoP) is used for two interrelated concepts:
1. A socio-economic designation for the 4-5 billion individuals that live primarily in developing countries and whose annual per capita incomes fall below $1,500 per year (in purchasing power parity (PPP) terms); and
2. An emerging field of business strategy that focuses on products and services to serve people throughout the base of the world's income pyramid.
Proposal Summary
Recently, in the wake of the waning welfare state, many private sector initiatives have begun to pull the world's poorest people – The BoP – from the fringes of globalization and out of poverty through an unlikely means: profits. By intimately understanding the consumer needs of BoP populations, private sector firms have been tailoring the packaging, unit size and supply chains of products and services to efficiently provide equitable and viable solutions that allow the poor to enjoy the products and services that the developed world enjoys. These equitable solutions mitigate the "poverty penalty" – the premium put on basic goods due to BoP consumers' lack of credit, inability to buy goods in bulk, and distance from product origination and distribution channels. The lowering of this premium by these innovative approaches frees up disposable income, increases quality of life and is executed in an environmentally sound manner.
I propose to study current and historical private sector initiatives aimed at alleviating poverty in Peru's BoP populations through inclusive capitalism. By studying these initiatives in Peru, I will gain an understanding of the extent of this paradigm in Peru and will be able to benchmark my findings to analogous BoP research in other Latin American countries, thereby contributing to a much needed consensus on fundamental characteristics of successful BoP initiatives. It is my hope that this consensus will help guide future BoP efforts to alleviate poverty successfully.
This proposed project has a lot to do with my current position at Ashoka, the non-profit for which I work. On top of that, since I majored essentially in Spanish business, it makes a lot of sense that my major and post graduate plans would be a leveraging factor.
The grant is for an academic year starting in August of 2011, although many Israelis here tell me that I'll never come back. It's tough to hear that since my heart tells me that I will - that I'll still have this special place and special feeling for Israel after so much time. I simply feel that I have to live and to see things, and to progress professionally at the same time. A Fulbright is exactly the vehicle through which I can accomplish all of these things at once.
I just submitted the application that took up a month of my life writing to all sorts of organizations in Peru, professors from Boulder, social sector workers in Israel and many many people that corrected, critiqued and really improved my essays.
I'm terribly happy that this is behind me, but am very excited of the prospect of getting this coveted award. Wish me luck with this endeavor as well. I'll need it, as Fulbright scholarships are about as competitive as they come. And of course, I'll keep you updated.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I Scrubbed the Shit Out of That Thing
So here's another little cultural note for you:
A while ago my roommates and I organized a system in which we could maintain the cleanliness of our apartment. And It works well. One of us cleans the bathroom, another cleans the kitchen and then another cleans the living room.
Whenever it's my turn to clean the bathroom, I clean it as I've always cleaned bathrooms: with bleach, a sponge, a mop and some elbow grease... I feel that I've always gotten by with this system fairly well; however, this is apparently not enough in Israel. It has occurred to me that there is a national obsession in Israel with pointing out the littlest blemish in any sort of bathroom cleaning job, even if it looks immaculate afterwards.
A couple of weeks ago, my roommate Ofer got home from work, smelled the smell of bleach and soap in the air, and quickly inspected the bathroom. I saw him go into the bathroom and thought that he'd come out and give me a compliment on my great job. But no.
"Josh, man, there's a spot in the toilet bowl that you didn't get to".
"Umm really? I scrubbed the shit out of that thing (pun intended)".
"Ya look, man. It's right here. What were you thinking, man?"
Looking in the bowl there was a milimeter wide stain that looked like it had been there for years.
"Josh, man, you will suffer in the army, man" he said nodding with a wide grin, his eyes wide with delight. "But don't worry, man, you will learn how to clean like me".
I guess after the mental damage of scrubbing toilets that basic training incurs on young recruits (or draftees I should say), it must be like seventh fucking heaven to see another, silly younger guy, not making the "immaculate" grade with bathroom cleaning. Perhaps it a little sadism at work after having had commanders do the same to them.
The same thing happened a week later with my other roommate. I spent like an hour cleaning the kitchen one day trying to prove these goddamn roommates of mine wrong that I can clean well. Just as Ofer had done, Ayala, came home and looked at my "immaculate" job.
"Jooohsh"
"Ya"
"You didn't clean the inside of the trash".
"The inside of the trash??"
"Yes loook at this spot on the inside of the trash", she said referring to the trash can and pointing at a tiny spot of pasta sauce.
So this is what I will have to look forward to. One of the skills I'll pick up in the army will be not a skill, but an emotion. Sadism will run through my veins and will force me to quantitatively and qualitatively assess bathroom and kitchen cleanliness like some sort of OCD maniac. I'll be a head case like these guys. Great.
On a side note, yet related to this post. I found out that for my 6 months in the army, I'll most likely serve on a base in the north of Israel, near the sea of Galillee - which is one of my favorite places in Israel. I've been trying to set up a living situation on a kibbutz in the Golan Heights (closeby) for during my service. So, I'm excited about that and about the possible roles available to me. I'll keep everyone updated.
But, for now. I actually have to clean the bathroom again. It's my turn this week. Wish me luck.
A while ago my roommates and I organized a system in which we could maintain the cleanliness of our apartment. And It works well. One of us cleans the bathroom, another cleans the kitchen and then another cleans the living room.
Whenever it's my turn to clean the bathroom, I clean it as I've always cleaned bathrooms: with bleach, a sponge, a mop and some elbow grease... I feel that I've always gotten by with this system fairly well; however, this is apparently not enough in Israel. It has occurred to me that there is a national obsession in Israel with pointing out the littlest blemish in any sort of bathroom cleaning job, even if it looks immaculate afterwards.
A couple of weeks ago, my roommate Ofer got home from work, smelled the smell of bleach and soap in the air, and quickly inspected the bathroom. I saw him go into the bathroom and thought that he'd come out and give me a compliment on my great job. But no.
"Josh, man, there's a spot in the toilet bowl that you didn't get to".
"Umm really? I scrubbed the shit out of that thing (pun intended)".
"Ya look, man. It's right here. What were you thinking, man?"
Looking in the bowl there was a milimeter wide stain that looked like it had been there for years.
"Josh, man, you will suffer in the army, man" he said nodding with a wide grin, his eyes wide with delight. "But don't worry, man, you will learn how to clean like me".
I guess after the mental damage of scrubbing toilets that basic training incurs on young recruits (or draftees I should say), it must be like seventh fucking heaven to see another, silly younger guy, not making the "immaculate" grade with bathroom cleaning. Perhaps it a little sadism at work after having had commanders do the same to them.
The same thing happened a week later with my other roommate. I spent like an hour cleaning the kitchen one day trying to prove these goddamn roommates of mine wrong that I can clean well. Just as Ofer had done, Ayala, came home and looked at my "immaculate" job.
"Jooohsh"
"Ya"
"You didn't clean the inside of the trash".
"The inside of the trash??"
"Yes loook at this spot on the inside of the trash", she said referring to the trash can and pointing at a tiny spot of pasta sauce.
So this is what I will have to look forward to. One of the skills I'll pick up in the army will be not a skill, but an emotion. Sadism will run through my veins and will force me to quantitatively and qualitatively assess bathroom and kitchen cleanliness like some sort of OCD maniac. I'll be a head case like these guys. Great.
On a side note, yet related to this post. I found out that for my 6 months in the army, I'll most likely serve on a base in the north of Israel, near the sea of Galillee - which is one of my favorite places in Israel. I've been trying to set up a living situation on a kibbutz in the Golan Heights (closeby) for during my service. So, I'm excited about that and about the possible roles available to me. I'll keep everyone updated.
But, for now. I actually have to clean the bathroom again. It's my turn this week. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Israeli/Syrian Music in the Golan
About a week ago, I was lucky enough to have had my dad and my older brother visit me in Israel. They were here for about a week or so and we really squeezed just about everything we could in Israel in such a short amount of time. Some highlights were:
1.) Discovering great neighborhoods in Jerusalem just walking around on the way to the old city.
2.) Going into the "western wall tunnels" that go underground tangent to the Western Wall in Jerusalem. On this tour, we were able to see essentially the entire Western Wall as it was before the second temple was destroyed. Incredible.
3.) Staying in a great hotel overlooking all of the Sea of Galilee (again, one of my favorite spots in Israel).
4.) Having an amazing lunch in a druze town in the Golan.
5.) Arriving in Eilat only to find that our reservations were somehow not made. Subsequently, we found a very expensive hotel room at the Hilton (the best hotel in Eilat) that overlooked the entire gulf of Eilat (gulf of Acaba). It was on the top floor looking south out over the gulf and we could see Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Egypt from the window.
But, I think one of the best experiences on this particular trip was when we were decending from the Golan heights down to the Sea of Galillee around sunset in our car. We tuned into a radio station (103 FM) that had great 60's and 70's Israeli music. The juxtapositon of these great songs and the timeless feeling that they exuded and the image of the peaciful Israeli frontier land, was really euphoric. What was especially interesting and amazingly metaphoric was how every now and then, a Syrian radio station on the same frequency, most likely from close-by Damascus would push the Israeli station out of the frequency, before the Israeli station would take over once again. I just sat there amazed at what I was hearing and how representative it was of the recent history of this land. But, back to the the euphoric feeling that this juxtaposition gave me - I often tell friends out here that sometimes I live vichariously through the feeling of how Israel was in its pioneer days, back when this special rugged collectivism was the central tenet of how Israel overcame the seemingly insurmountable odds of merely existing. I truly cherish that feeling and lament that this feeling has been swallowed up the folds of time, and slowly eaten up by the urban decay and selfish individualism I often find in Tel Aviv. I guess this is the main reason I want to move to the Golan. As well as as I can articulate it, I want to experience that feeling first hand "in the field". Imagine how living on a kibbutz in the northern Golan and serving in the military will instill this feeling in me. Let's hope this becomes a reality.
1.) Discovering great neighborhoods in Jerusalem just walking around on the way to the old city.
2.) Going into the "western wall tunnels" that go underground tangent to the Western Wall in Jerusalem. On this tour, we were able to see essentially the entire Western Wall as it was before the second temple was destroyed. Incredible.
3.) Staying in a great hotel overlooking all of the Sea of Galilee (again, one of my favorite spots in Israel).
4.) Having an amazing lunch in a druze town in the Golan.
5.) Arriving in Eilat only to find that our reservations were somehow not made. Subsequently, we found a very expensive hotel room at the Hilton (the best hotel in Eilat) that overlooked the entire gulf of Eilat (gulf of Acaba). It was on the top floor looking south out over the gulf and we could see Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Egypt from the window.
But, I think one of the best experiences on this particular trip was when we were decending from the Golan heights down to the Sea of Galillee around sunset in our car. We tuned into a radio station (103 FM) that had great 60's and 70's Israeli music. The juxtapositon of these great songs and the timeless feeling that they exuded and the image of the peaciful Israeli frontier land, was really euphoric. What was especially interesting and amazingly metaphoric was how every now and then, a Syrian radio station on the same frequency, most likely from close-by Damascus would push the Israeli station out of the frequency, before the Israeli station would take over once again. I just sat there amazed at what I was hearing and how representative it was of the recent history of this land. But, back to the the euphoric feeling that this juxtaposition gave me - I often tell friends out here that sometimes I live vichariously through the feeling of how Israel was in its pioneer days, back when this special rugged collectivism was the central tenet of how Israel overcame the seemingly insurmountable odds of merely existing. I truly cherish that feeling and lament that this feeling has been swallowed up the folds of time, and slowly eaten up by the urban decay and selfish individualism I often find in Tel Aviv. I guess this is the main reason I want to move to the Golan. As well as as I can articulate it, I want to experience that feeling first hand "in the field". Imagine how living on a kibbutz in the northern Golan and serving in the military will instill this feeling in me. Let's hope this becomes a reality.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
אין לי סבלנות
As most of Israel had already made its way to a friend or family member's house for the first night of the Jewish new year, a peaceful calm settled upon Tel Aviv. The roads were almost empty and I was riding shotgun in a car driven by my roommate to catch a family dinner that we were right on time for.
"אין לי סבלנות"-"ugh I have no patience" my roommate announced as she kicked the accelerator hard and sped toward the row of cars and their red lights not even 20 meters ahead of us, before sternly applying the brakes to a full stop. As we stopped, she pulled out another cigarette and lit it - her 20th of the day probably.
A few days back I was walking along a street close to my apartment, approaching the stoplight at the end of that street. A bus breezed by me with it's engine noticibly at high RPMs before slamming on its brakes in order to complete the right hand turn that it had to make without killing anyone aboard. Is that really necessary I wondered to myself, thinking about the bus drivers in Colorado, who with their cool and collected driving could lull me into doing something that usually alludes me: sleeping in a moving vehicle. How much gas do you waste and how many transmissions per bus-life do you go though with that insane driving? I started to think as I approached that intersection why was it necessary to honk at someone who fails to move within one milisecond after a light turns green. Or why it was necessary that there is a brief yellow light before the green light in Israel.
There is a palpable, thumb-twiddling, muscle-twitching, head-scratching impatience woven into the fabric of the Israeli national psyche that I never understood until recently. It is a national phenomenon and is a defining characteristic of the Israeli mentality: live in the moment. If something isn't available right now, you will go get that thing that you want without much regard for the immediate or distant future.
Tunnel vision => That thing you want
After listening to many Israelis offer an explanation of why they find it acceptable to build in the West Bank, I finally understand why and can decode their apathetic reasoning. After analyzing some of the political moves by the Israeli government I finally understand why there were made: solving a problem in the short term is a more attractive option than the non-indulgence involved in longer term solutions. The latter could be considered a means of existential defense but, you get my point.
Blah blah blah. It's 2:39 in the morning and I'm wrecked. Good night.
"אין לי סבלנות"-"ugh I have no patience" my roommate announced as she kicked the accelerator hard and sped toward the row of cars and their red lights not even 20 meters ahead of us, before sternly applying the brakes to a full stop. As we stopped, she pulled out another cigarette and lit it - her 20th of the day probably.
A few days back I was walking along a street close to my apartment, approaching the stoplight at the end of that street. A bus breezed by me with it's engine noticibly at high RPMs before slamming on its brakes in order to complete the right hand turn that it had to make without killing anyone aboard. Is that really necessary I wondered to myself, thinking about the bus drivers in Colorado, who with their cool and collected driving could lull me into doing something that usually alludes me: sleeping in a moving vehicle. How much gas do you waste and how many transmissions per bus-life do you go though with that insane driving? I started to think as I approached that intersection why was it necessary to honk at someone who fails to move within one milisecond after a light turns green. Or why it was necessary that there is a brief yellow light before the green light in Israel.
There is a palpable, thumb-twiddling, muscle-twitching, head-scratching impatience woven into the fabric of the Israeli national psyche that I never understood until recently. It is a national phenomenon and is a defining characteristic of the Israeli mentality: live in the moment. If something isn't available right now, you will go get that thing that you want without much regard for the immediate or distant future.
Tunnel vision => That thing you want
After listening to many Israelis offer an explanation of why they find it acceptable to build in the West Bank, I finally understand why and can decode their apathetic reasoning. After analyzing some of the political moves by the Israeli government I finally understand why there were made: solving a problem in the short term is a more attractive option than the non-indulgence involved in longer term solutions. The latter could be considered a means of existential defense but, you get my point.
Blah blah blah. It's 2:39 in the morning and I'm wrecked. Good night.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Summer in Tel Aviv Means:
1.) You constantly question the convention and purpose of putting on a shirt.
2.) Travelling 10 meters means you've already sweated through said shirt.
3.) You start looking at the jacket in your closet with a combination of nostalgia and sheer horror.
4.) You know the word "mazgan"(air conditioner) and employ it often.
5.) When you open the freezer to get something, you are pleasantly surprised by the temperature and stick your head in it for about 15 seconds until you realize that your head is indeed in a freezer.
6.) Your fan is your best friend. You take him with you to the living room in the morning, to the laundry room when you're folding laundry and to your bedroom where, even though he sits humming at you from a few centimeters away, you'd snuggle with him if you could.
7.) You put up with screaming children in indoor public places with "mazgan" just to feel a temperature of less than 36 degrees for a few minutes (or an hour or two as I do).
8.) The friend with the "mazgan" is the most popular one.
9.) Even if the sea has jellyfish that sting you, you risk it anyway because you just need to fucking cool off.
10.) If you are not at the beach, you are sequestered in your apartment or office wondering what it was like to not live in hell.
Let's hope I survive this inferno so that I can write a "Winter in Tel Aviv Means:" post in January.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
I Live In France
Well today I took my cheap ass out for a much needed trip to the market. For weeks I've been surviving off of the pasta that my roommate's gracious Iraqi mother gave to me, cans of tuna, peanut butter-banana-honey sandwiches (delicious), and, last but not least - hummus and pita. Yes, I am a cheap bastard. Or maybe I'm more lazy than cheap. I don't know. Too many thoughts in the head. Too much effort.
Anyway, upon entering the main outdoor market in Tel Aviv - the famous Carmel Market - all I could hear was a constant hum of "Ce que doit nous achetons. Non cela est trop jaune. Peut-être nous devrions acheter ceci. Combien de baisant des euros avez-vous ? Quel est shakshuka ? Où la salle de bains est ? Oh ce n'est que 5000 euros ? Bien, je l'achèterai. Où la plage est ?"
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh. The French have invaded Israel.
They are launching a "tour d'loud annoying voice" campaign to take over the city of Tel Aviv for a few weeks. They come to participate in loud pre-mating rituals, to gather and consume copious amounts of sustinance and fermented beverages, to change the color of their skin from white to red, and to generally distrupt the local ecosystem. And I am one of the many innocent bystanders in this precious ecosystem.
The only positive benefit that I have seen come out of this is listening to myself unconciously imitate French as I'm walking around my apartment in the morning, happily in my underwear, drinking my coffee, and eating my cereal. "je pre leuo ahn ba tititeh. Ouo je'leurs est m'crepres. Hoh hoh hoh oui oui oui".
I am nearly fluent.
Thank you French group of 18-year-olds sitting behind me on the bus to Jerusalem talking AS LOUD AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.
That is all.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Me? Israeli?
Yes, you heard...eh... read right. I'm going to be an Israeli. I have applied to attain citizenship to the State of Israel - something called "Aliyah" here. It's something that about 3000 Americans do every year. But why me? Has zionism taken a hold of me to such an extent that I'll stay in this little Middle Eastern country forever and I'll never come back home? Is it the border tension, constant threat of war, rockets being launched from a terrorist group 40 kms away that wants me dead, or the blind international condemnation of "the zionist entity" that makes me want to become a citizen here?
Not particularly.
I just like it here.
I like being able to have entire conversations in this insane 12,000 year old language that has so much to do with who and what I am. I like the feeling of respect that radiates from Israelis when they find out that I want to make a life for myself here. I like the feeling of knowing that this is a country that wants me here. I like the Israeli McGuyver mentality and how they use it to create businesses the day that they conceive of them. I like how when I get into a mini bus, I'll be sitting with an Ethiopian guy, a Russian teenager, an Arab construction worker, an ashkenazi soldier and an ultra orthodox family. I like the unfettered honking outside my balcony. I like imitating the Arab Hebrew accent and the Russian Hebrew accent to Israelis and then hearing them laugh at it. I like working for an organization that helps to solve the gigantic problems that plague Israel. I like being part of the most improbable occurance in the last few centuries. I like the geographic diversity of this postage stamp-sized country - how desert turns into rolling wooded hills, that turn into lush mountainous fields, that turn into snow-capped mountains. I like walking 20 minutes to get the best hummus in the world. I like the feeling of walking through my neighborhood and being waved to by people I've met before. I even like "the Jesus" that lives in my neighborhood.
There, of course, are some things that I don't like at all about Israel. But, I can name you hundreds of things that I don't like about the United States; And I still love that country. Finding serious flaws in a certain person, place or thing does not preclude a person from having deep feelings for it nor from attaching one's self to it. So I've weighed my options, and have decided that, since I want to integrate deeply into a culture while I still can, it might as well be 100% and it might as well be in a country for which I have a true affinity and that welcomes me as a citizen with open arms. I'll stay here for a while, maybe for a very long time, or maybe just for a year. Either way, I'll accomplish my goal and desire of integration. But, of course, this goal does come with a price: Just as every other Israeli does, I'll join the army - though only for six months due to my age (I'm an old man out here) and most likely in a relatively safe position. The army is a medium through which one comes of age and it is an opportunity to contribute on a tangible level to the security of a state that needs security badly. I'm sure I'll love it and hate it at various points.
So, I guess this blog will be one American's account of this journey - through all of its trials and tribulations, challenges and joys. I'll be sure to share them on here so that someone else can get a taste of what it's like to go through this process. Stay tuned.
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