I am lost in Jerusalem and I plan on getting more lost, I said to a helpful stranger. I do not know at which point I entered the Old City and I cannot find myself on the map. I climbed up a strange and winding path and found myself surrounded by tourists and then found myself suddenly inside. I have not known where I am since the moment I left the house this morning. Can one be lost then, if one does not know where they are to begin with and one does not care where they are going. If yes, there is a beautiful sense of freedom to this state of being lost.
Thursday night, one of the farm workers gave Abe (Uncle Avvie, if you like) and I a ride into Jerusalem. He dropped us off near the shuk around 5:00 p.m., or rush hour. Abe planned on meeting up with his friend from home, Tamar who now lives here. I planned on going to a hostel for the night and having a solitary adventure the following day. The shuk is similar to Haymarket, except more. It is hard to put into words, it has many vendors selling many types of produce, and meat, baked goods, glida and some clothes. And it was packed full of Jews trying to buy dinner, or prepare for Shabbat dinner. Abe and I met up with Tamar, near the entrance and she immediately invited me to stay with her for the night and maybe Shabbat dinner. We followed her as she navigated her way around the shuk, as I ogled harem pants. (ten sheks!, which is about 3 dollars to look incredibly ridiculous but comfortable). When we left the shuk, she led us to a burekas (formerly known to me as knish) stand where I choose some spinach, cheese and tehina (betah) stuffing. The burekas is worth a whole paragraph but I digress from our adventures...
We walked around the central square of Jerusalem with our now heavy bags, filled with our clothes, food and bottles of wine and it is long walk to Tamar's house. We tried unsuccessfully to hail a cab. Unexpectedly, a woman pulled over and offered us a lift. Not quite a tremp, I would say. This to me sums up the whole character of Israelis thus far. We were not looking for a free ride, but out of the goodness of her heart, she offered one and we excepted it.
Tamar's apartment had a beautiful balcony which wrapped around her entire apartment and later in the evening I watched fireworks in the distance. We had a quiet night in, while Tamar and I discussed our Jewish identities. I revealed my background to her, a patrilineal Jew who was raised Catholic. While she was born into a Jewish identity, I have struggled with my identification. Maybe struggle is the wrong word. I have embraced it but I have found significant opposition to this identity throughout my life, with other people expressing their opinions about the the nature of my Jewish state.
Yesterday, in the big dome a group of Eco's and an Israeli volunteer were discussing Jewish identity (this happens frequently). The volunteer, Shahar, stated that these types of conversations were new to her. She is an Israeli, she does not need to defend, discuss or explore her Jewish identity. She just is. She is also surrounded
by other Jews, who just are as well.
In the old City, I stumbled upon the wailing wall. The soldiers at the entrance flirted with me. They asked me, "What do you want? Do you want something beautiful?" "Yes,"I answered them. "Then you have found it." They said jokingly and pointed to themselves and then to me. Such irreverence before reverence.
I was lost but now found. My first thoughts were sacrilegious ones. I remembered an old debate I had with a a college friend, who stated I was not Jewish and I could not comprehend Judaism. She had been to the Wailing Wall, she said, she knew what it was to be Jewish. At the wall, I thought to myself, am I Jewish yet? Do my arguments have more sustenance, am I now entitled to my opinions?
I am at the Wailing Wall and I think to myself, No more wailing. We are home now, aren't we? If not, when are we there? When do we reach that point? The wall spoke to me, it said "Please do not cry here anymore. Please do not stuff me with your sorrows." I put a small prayer of love inside the wall, I tried to honor it in my own way. Around me, I saw tourists from all over. Many of the older women were crying, which touched me deeply. If I cried it would be through their tears, not my own. I understood where they came from, truly I did. In the background I hear men chanting in Arabic during the noontime prayers.
After I took a bus back to Western Jerusalem. I wandered around some more until I took a sheroot back to Modi'in. From the central point of the city, I had planned on walking on hour back to the farm. I was exhausted and barefoot, with little water left. And Shabbat was approaching, there were no cars on the road. Suddenly, the farm car appeared and I magically got a ride back to the farm.
That day was the most solitary time that I had spent in six weeks. I was alone with my thoughts and I welcomed them, so I could process Jerusalem fully. Today I formed thoughts such as, "I want to get lost in Jerusalem" and "I want to have a cup of coffee in the Old City" and other wishes which lay dormant rose to the surface. Later in the zula, I reflected on my Jerusalem narrative. It is one of self-exploration overlaid with the beauty of simple moments and letting go of control. Jerusalem remains for me an internal process of self-discovery and empowering affirmation. The love that I feel in my heart interweaves and coils itself around the whole of story.
Saturday 17 October 2009
Wednesday 14 October 2009
We Dream of Ravaging Abandoned Mango Orchards but Instead Go to Gazit Junction
For our third weekend in Israel, six of the Ecos decided to go on adventure. We only knew that we were leaving sometime Friday morning and we had to back by Tuesday morning. The rest of the details were incredibly fuzzy. The night before Anna and I were hanging out in the Zula with two of the co-adventurers. Anna wondered aloud "What time are we going?" and I asked "Wait, where are we going?" and then another voice shouted "When are we going there?" In short, we were a mess. We only knew one thing: we wanted mangoes. A former Eco participant who has been staying on the farm had been talking about abandoned mango orchards in the North and by Week Three they had taken on mythological proportions similar to that of the promised land. This former Eco had alternative plans, so he could not lead us to this promised land.
We set out fairly early in the morning for some type of hiking excursion in the North. I was fairly in the dark and I relied on others to secure rides for our trip. We all met up at a reservation near Kibbutz Gazit, near Ein Hod, around 2:00 p.m. The site was majestic, it was a relief to be surrounded by tall mountains instead of a rocky scrabbly landscape. At 2:00 p.m. we descended as a group down the trail into the valley of the mountains. For some reason, we believed there might be a spring, even though we are at the end of the dry season (there is no water). We ran into a slew of bikers, who thought we were crazy Americans and assured us there was no spring. Now we had to climb back up with limited water resources. By this point, I was tired and dehydrated, until we stumbled upon a couple of Pomegranate trees. We dove into them and I felt reinvigorated enough to scout out the land. Still hoping for water, I climbed down a path towards a dried up stream and we found our a nice respite from the heat under a canopy of trees. We hesitated sightly, worrying about the mosquitoes which the mud might attract. That night we had an amazing time beneath the stars, sheltered beneath the trees and surrounded by wandering cows.
We slept together in a row of sleeping bags, a line of former strangers, now a sort of patchwork family. In the middle of the night, I heard all types of noises. Cows crunching sticks, Hebrew music blaring from the kibbutz and wait was that the baying hyenas? I felt fear from the tips of my fingers through to the bottom of my toes. A paralyzing fear. Hyenas! Why were we camping openly in this precarious spot? My friend next to me was awake, and we determined that we both terrified. He turned to Anna, whose eyes were wide with fear. All three of us clung to our fear. What should we do, could we run away, or stay and wait for the onslaught. We decided to wake up E, who is the more rational group member. We theorized that if he was not afraid, then we should also abandon our fear. Anna woke him up "Hey, are you afraid? "Of what." "Hyenas" "Hyenas, that's beautiful!" he exclaimed, Once he was fully awake, he was slightly angry with us but laughed at us until we were no longer scared. We joked about who would be eaten first and debated the dangers of city life versus the wild. If only there was magic button that would rescue us, exclaimed Uncle Avvie.
The next morning, four of us walked down the long winding road from the Kibbutz to the Junction. From there, our destination was Mount Tabor and food. Mount Tabor rises from a beautiful Arab village called Shibli, where all the front gardens were covered with date, fig and lemon trees and the sidewalk walls are covered with passion flower vines. We stumbled hot and weary into a sidewalk falafel bar where we could choose eight or more condiments for our sandwich. By far, it was the best falfel I have had so far in Israel and I have consumed a lot. After lunch, armored only with a handful of figs and water we started the hike upwards. Except we did not follow an established trail in the woods, only a long winding road, where car after car passed by us. The view was amazing as we climbed. There is a monastery at the top, where I promptly thrown out for indecent clothes (taboo bare shoulders). It was very touristy but at least we had the pleasure of the view along the way. On the way down we stopped for some homemade pizza, my first in years. We tried to char with the boys who served, but we must have exhausted their English, since they told us “English no more.” But I told them that their pizza was tayim. And life was good.
We hiked back to our camping spot. Earlier in the day, we had called our wise leader Nadav, who is a nature specialist, more or less. Anna called him up and asked "Nadav, what do you know about hyenas?" After a small debate about the noises we heard, we were told that we had only heard jackals and that they were more scared of us, then we are of them. That night we slept soundly.
The next morning, I had plans to head to Tel Aviv but then I fell out of a tree. It was terrifying, and at the sane time quite stupid. The fall hurt my back so I decided to just head back to the farm and restore my energy. It is Week Five and we still we talk of those fields of mangoes that we have yet to visit, even though their season must be past. Perhaps there is an abandoned pomegranate orchard waiting to be harvested.
We set out fairly early in the morning for some type of hiking excursion in the North. I was fairly in the dark and I relied on others to secure rides for our trip. We all met up at a reservation near Kibbutz Gazit, near Ein Hod, around 2:00 p.m. The site was majestic, it was a relief to be surrounded by tall mountains instead of a rocky scrabbly landscape. At 2:00 p.m. we descended as a group down the trail into the valley of the mountains. For some reason, we believed there might be a spring, even though we are at the end of the dry season (there is no water). We ran into a slew of bikers, who thought we were crazy Americans and assured us there was no spring. Now we had to climb back up with limited water resources. By this point, I was tired and dehydrated, until we stumbled upon a couple of Pomegranate trees. We dove into them and I felt reinvigorated enough to scout out the land. Still hoping for water, I climbed down a path towards a dried up stream and we found our a nice respite from the heat under a canopy of trees. We hesitated sightly, worrying about the mosquitoes which the mud might attract. That night we had an amazing time beneath the stars, sheltered beneath the trees and surrounded by wandering cows.
We slept together in a row of sleeping bags, a line of former strangers, now a sort of patchwork family. In the middle of the night, I heard all types of noises. Cows crunching sticks, Hebrew music blaring from the kibbutz and wait was that the baying hyenas? I felt fear from the tips of my fingers through to the bottom of my toes. A paralyzing fear. Hyenas! Why were we camping openly in this precarious spot? My friend next to me was awake, and we determined that we both terrified. He turned to Anna, whose eyes were wide with fear. All three of us clung to our fear. What should we do, could we run away, or stay and wait for the onslaught. We decided to wake up E, who is the more rational group member. We theorized that if he was not afraid, then we should also abandon our fear. Anna woke him up "Hey, are you afraid? "Of what." "Hyenas" "Hyenas, that's beautiful!" he exclaimed, Once he was fully awake, he was slightly angry with us but laughed at us until we were no longer scared. We joked about who would be eaten first and debated the dangers of city life versus the wild. If only there was magic button that would rescue us, exclaimed Uncle Avvie.
The next morning, four of us walked down the long winding road from the Kibbutz to the Junction. From there, our destination was Mount Tabor and food. Mount Tabor rises from a beautiful Arab village called Shibli, where all the front gardens were covered with date, fig and lemon trees and the sidewalk walls are covered with passion flower vines. We stumbled hot and weary into a sidewalk falafel bar where we could choose eight or more condiments for our sandwich. By far, it was the best falfel I have had so far in Israel and I have consumed a lot. After lunch, armored only with a handful of figs and water we started the hike upwards. Except we did not follow an established trail in the woods, only a long winding road, where car after car passed by us. The view was amazing as we climbed. There is a monastery at the top, where I promptly thrown out for indecent clothes (taboo bare shoulders). It was very touristy but at least we had the pleasure of the view along the way. On the way down we stopped for some homemade pizza, my first in years. We tried to char with the boys who served, but we must have exhausted their English, since they told us “English no more.” But I told them that their pizza was tayim. And life was good.
We hiked back to our camping spot. Earlier in the day, we had called our wise leader Nadav, who is a nature specialist, more or less. Anna called him up and asked "Nadav, what do you know about hyenas?" After a small debate about the noises we heard, we were told that we had only heard jackals and that they were more scared of us, then we are of them. That night we slept soundly.
The next morning, I had plans to head to Tel Aviv but then I fell out of a tree. It was terrifying, and at the sane time quite stupid. The fall hurt my back so I decided to just head back to the farm and restore my energy. It is Week Five and we still we talk of those fields of mangoes that we have yet to visit, even though their season must be past. Perhaps there is an abandoned pomegranate orchard waiting to be harvested.
Saturday 3 October 2009
A Walking Tour of Chava V'Adam Ecologit.
In Hebrew, Chava refers both to Eve and to the farm. However it is more customary to state Adam V’ Chava in conversation, which places the male before the female. Thus, the farm is already revolutionary.
The farm is a small piece of land, located near the city of Modi’in. City of the future. Farm of the past. The farm rests on all principles of permaculture, which involves using all parts of the whole, sustainability, local resources and minimizing waste products. All the buildings were constructed by farm workers and volunteers slowly over the years.
The front gate is covered in passion fruit vines, which I vigorously shake every time I go by. Near the gate is a small store, constructed out of mud, which sells some produce and other local products. It is reminiscent of when the farm had a CSA but the farm does not contribute to the store. A few feet from the store is a large clay baked platform which houses the only oven on the farm. The oven rests on the principles of thermo-dynamics, as of yet I have not managed to build a lasting fire in it. It is huge and slightly unpredictable but it has so far it has baked challah bread for Shabbat dinner, pumpkin bread and apple cake.
On the lower part of the farm are also two workshops; weaving and clay making. When we have more free time, we will be allowed to play in them more. They are mainly used as children’s workshops. Although we did have a dream-catcher workshop in there earlier this week.
Across from the workshop buildings is large tree where we eat all our lunches on working days. We share our lunches with the younger Israeli volunteers, who we call the Sheen Sheneem and other farm workers. Since we are still in intensive class mode, the Eco Israelis come to lunch clean and slightly lethargic after our four hour class. The others tend to come covered in mud from working on the new distillery. Our classes have just ended; soon we will be just as dirty when lunch time comes around.
The Sheen Sheneem have their own separate lodgings, in a large mud house. The office, with internet access is attached to the building, so we are often in their space. Oh I almost forgot about the recycling center, which houses all types of remnants and where Anna found some sweet harem pants yesterday. It is usually too hot to go inside during the daytime for me and too dark at night. So far I have only scored some teva sandals, which I have been lugging all over Israel.
Also downstairs is the herbal room where we will later learn how to make tinctures, creams, mosquito repellant, (!) etc. Next to the herbal room, is the community pagoda, which is also covered in passie flora and we have had all our classes with our Permaculture Instructor, Yigal.
From here, we walk along an olive tree lined path up to our domes. Along the way, we may encounter three angry geese, which are penned in near the lemon trees (and one orange tree) or bump into the three hungry donkeys. We then walk up a small incline to reach domeville. Domeville includes eight domes, structurally sound buildings required by Masa to house Eco Israeli participants. There are a slew of tents for other volunteers with wooden floors and only a flap for an opening. We have our compost toilets, kamuvan, two vinyl enclosed showers, a kitchen where we prepare breakfast and dinner. There is an outdoor shower, which is a unique experience. It is protected by a large mud bench and a couple large trees. All the Eco’s love the outdoor shower and some have never used the indoor showers (which are outside). The only problem is that is plagued by wasps during the day.
There is our zula where we spend a large majority of our non-working time. It was only recently built by the last program batch. Our domes tend to be to be too hot during our midday break, so most of my naps happen here. There is also the big dome, which is a large tent with couches, bookshelf and table and we have only begun to use and the nights get colder and it is getting darker around 5:30 p.m.
The farm is a small piece of land, located near the city of Modi’in. City of the future. Farm of the past. The farm rests on all principles of permaculture, which involves using all parts of the whole, sustainability, local resources and minimizing waste products. All the buildings were constructed by farm workers and volunteers slowly over the years.
The front gate is covered in passion fruit vines, which I vigorously shake every time I go by. Near the gate is a small store, constructed out of mud, which sells some produce and other local products. It is reminiscent of when the farm had a CSA but the farm does not contribute to the store. A few feet from the store is a large clay baked platform which houses the only oven on the farm. The oven rests on the principles of thermo-dynamics, as of yet I have not managed to build a lasting fire in it. It is huge and slightly unpredictable but it has so far it has baked challah bread for Shabbat dinner, pumpkin bread and apple cake.
On the lower part of the farm are also two workshops; weaving and clay making. When we have more free time, we will be allowed to play in them more. They are mainly used as children’s workshops. Although we did have a dream-catcher workshop in there earlier this week.
Across from the workshop buildings is large tree where we eat all our lunches on working days. We share our lunches with the younger Israeli volunteers, who we call the Sheen Sheneem and other farm workers. Since we are still in intensive class mode, the Eco Israelis come to lunch clean and slightly lethargic after our four hour class. The others tend to come covered in mud from working on the new distillery. Our classes have just ended; soon we will be just as dirty when lunch time comes around.
The Sheen Sheneem have their own separate lodgings, in a large mud house. The office, with internet access is attached to the building, so we are often in their space. Oh I almost forgot about the recycling center, which houses all types of remnants and where Anna found some sweet harem pants yesterday. It is usually too hot to go inside during the daytime for me and too dark at night. So far I have only scored some teva sandals, which I have been lugging all over Israel.
Also downstairs is the herbal room where we will later learn how to make tinctures, creams, mosquito repellant, (!) etc. Next to the herbal room, is the community pagoda, which is also covered in passie flora and we have had all our classes with our Permaculture Instructor, Yigal.
From here, we walk along an olive tree lined path up to our domes. Along the way, we may encounter three angry geese, which are penned in near the lemon trees (and one orange tree) or bump into the three hungry donkeys. We then walk up a small incline to reach domeville. Domeville includes eight domes, structurally sound buildings required by Masa to house Eco Israeli participants. There are a slew of tents for other volunteers with wooden floors and only a flap for an opening. We have our compost toilets, kamuvan, two vinyl enclosed showers, a kitchen where we prepare breakfast and dinner. There is an outdoor shower, which is a unique experience. It is protected by a large mud bench and a couple large trees. All the Eco’s love the outdoor shower and some have never used the indoor showers (which are outside). The only problem is that is plagued by wasps during the day.
There is our zula where we spend a large majority of our non-working time. It was only recently built by the last program batch. Our domes tend to be to be too hot during our midday break, so most of my naps happen here. There is also the big dome, which is a large tent with couches, bookshelf and table and we have only begun to use and the nights get colder and it is getting darker around 5:30 p.m.
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