(Updated List of) Things you need to know about Israel

1. There are palm trees… Everywhere… And it messes with my head because I kind of thought this was supposed to be the desert, but in reality, Tel Aviv is just built on sand dunes (and who knew that wasn’t the same thing?)

2. There is construction… All the time… To be fair, we’re in a country with an essentially open immigration policy for all Jewish people everywhere, and thus a nation that’s population and demographics are constantly changing.  Becoming a new nation every year.  So, yes, construction everywhere… all the time…

3.  I know I said there were palm trees everywhere, but I was (partially) lying.  In the Jerusalem forest, there are a gazillion pine trees (and cypress, Palestine oak, olive, etc.).  Below, you see the hills of Jerusalem (and we'll go into more detail later about my visit there).  

4.  It’s the only country that has planted more trees than it’s taken down… (And today is the equivalent of Arbor Day, so they’ll be planting more). 

5.  It took me an embarrassingly long time to come to this conclusion, but another reason for that is because they build out of stone… In fact, in Jerusalem, it’s the law that you have to build out of a very specific type of stone. 

6. #5 explains why everything looks so much different than back in the States (or at least the East Coast). 

7. My mom and I thought that New Zealand’s landscape was constantly changing (you move from vineyards to glaciers to the ocean but you drive several hours in between each landscape)??  Only because (at the time) neither of us had been to Israel…

8. The stray cats wander inside sometimes… there were a few just hanging out in a museum the other day… 

9.   I know I mentioned the decorated traffic circles before, but I’m a big fan of this one.  

10. And this one: 

11. Hebrew doesn’t always translate correctly into English.  One of my lunch options recently was ‘disability chicken’.  And yesterday I had “Pasta visit”. 

12.  The history of this country is incredible.  Seriously, archaeologists have dug up artifacts and human remains from Prehistoric humans, the Romans, Greeks, Persians, Arabs, Byzantines, Crusaders and Turks, not to mention the fact that this has been a nation of Jewish people the entire time, throughout all of the conquest of other nations, Judaism has prevailed.  And so has Islam.  Christianity too.  I have a hard time keeping it all straight, but it's pretty epic.  

Ruins of the Roman City of Caesarea 

13. People think the United States is a melting pot?  This takes it to the next level, because you have three major religions coexisting, many of whom are extremely religious people.  In each religion, you have different branches and levels of religiousness.  Furthermore, you have the Druze (a religion celebrated by a subset of Arabs) and Bedouins who roam the desert on their camels and still serve in the Israeli Army and the Bahai faith (there’s only 300 B’hai in Israel but they have amazing gardens in Haifa).  In addition, you have people from countries all over the world, speaking all different languages.

14.  To add to the previous statement, Haifa is a mixed city but I was still surprised to see this the other day (also, don’t they take it down by the end of January or is it actually a permanent fixture to signify the friendly coexistence of Jews and Arab Christians?)

Dead Sea and Masada

            I’m actually not sure that I’ve quite gone full out tourist mode on this blog yet (and feel free to beg to differ), but it’s time (Don’t tell me you didn’t see it coming; there are some things you just have to do in Israel). 

           

            On Thursday right after work, instead of hopping my usual train back to Herzliya, I caught one to Be'er Sheva (where I tried and regretted Sahlab as you saw in my previous post) and then met Isa and Tami to head down to the Dead Sea.  

            It was raining in Be'er Sheva when we got there (but apparently a little drizzle is all the rain they get in the desert).  We headed through the Judean mountains/desert to our accommodation.  I stared out the window, astounded by all the stars.  I liked the backdrop of the mountains against the dark night sky.  When you look across the Dead Sea, you can see lights over in Jordan off in the distance too, which is cool.  Like I said before, so many nations located so close to each other, and the other nations become the biggest landmarks off in the distance.  There's something to be said for that and it also says so much about Israel and it's ability to be here and be successful here, when the Zionists started settling here over a hundred years ago.     

            When we finally arrived, Tami's dog had a field day running around, and we went for a walk.  To be honest, I completely missed that we were staying right by the Dead Sea, so when we headed towards what looked like a tiny hill that was blocking my view of what was beyond but I had my suspicions (and mind that it was dark), I pointed and asked what's that?  Once assured that I wasn't crazy and the Dead Sea was right there, I started sprinting towards it to check it out.  But, you can only see so much at night.  

            Afterwards, we went to bed.  We had an early morning!  It's been a while since I made a habit of rolling out of bed before 5, so it was a slight struggle when it was time to get up, but hey, the sun waits for no one and one of the biggest reasons for our visit?  Seeing the sunrise from the top of Masada!

            So I realize that I keep throwing out these names of places, and my readers have varying degrees of understanding of Israel, so I'm going to backtrack a little bit.  Be'er Sheva is just a city in Israel.  It's in the desert, but now it's built up a little more.  I also saw way more cats there than anywhere else in Israel, and that's saying a lot.  It's a little over an hour from the Dead Sea.  

            I assume you all have heard of the Dead Sea, but if not, it's a big salty lake that you can't really swim in because it's so buoyant that you automatically float.  It's so salty that nothing can survive in it, so for those of you who are afraid or wary of swimming with fish/sharks/jellyfish, it's the perfect place for you!  The irony here, is that the salt water/mud is supposed to have incredible healing qualities for your skin, but that may or may not have to do with additional minerals other than the salt.  These days, the Dead Sea is starting to dry up a little, but there are efforts underway to determine how to flood it again and keep it intact for generations to come.  

            The Dead Sea was the nature/swimming part of last weekend's escapades, but a visit to Israel wouldn't be complete without hitting up some Israeli history as well.  So to Masada, we went!  King Herod (Herod the Great) had a winter palace on top of the rock plateau that is Masada around 30 BCE.  Masada also has a history of tragedy as well.  At the close of the first Jewish-Roman War, the Romans had laid a siege on the Jewish people living on Masada (see the picture of the Roman settlements below Masada), and eventually they succeeded in closing in on the Jewish (Sicarii) rebels.  But, rather than be taken prisoner and enslaved, and avoiding breaking Jewish law and committing suicide (although there are exceptions to that rule), they chose another way out.  They all killed each other before the Romans could get to them.  A few survived, however, living to document the story for generations to come.  In the 20th century, the climb to Masada was used as a training activity for the Israeli Defense Force, especially difficult before the path was well trodden, and soldiers learned to never give up as they carried large volumes of weight up the difficult climb.  

           I won't deny that even with a nearly empty backpack (just water, layers and clementines), it wasn't an easy climb up the Snake Path and all those stairs.  But, it was completely worth it.  There are pretty interesting ruins up there with well done restorations as well.  It's not impossible but definitely tough, but enjoyable, and the sunrise at the top was definitely worth it.  

Me at the top of Masada just in time for sunrise

           Afterwards, we had a traditional breakfast at Aroma (a nationwide chain).  It was a couple eggs, lots of Israeli cheeses, bread (but not toast which confused me at first), and an Israeli salad (lots of cucumbers and tomatoes).  

           Then it was time to pack our bags and go to the Dead Sea.  

           I couldn't believe how blue the water was. And it was just a sandy beach.  Apparently some of the resort beaches dig up mud from the bottom of the Dead Sea and bring it in, but we used a bag of sealed Dead Sea Mud.  I slathered it all over myself, and waited a bit for the nutrients to soak into my skin before heading back into the water.  The water was a little cold at first, and I was sure, based on the horror stories I had heard, that it was going to sting like crazy (any tiny cut you have apparently hurts from the salt), but it felt great.  The water feels pretty oily on your skin (guess that's the salt, but it's really good for you).  I didn't want to leave, but eventually, I rubbed the mud off, showered off and heading onto my next adventure.  

 

The pros and cons of Israeli cuisine

            So overall Israel has been pretty epic, and a great learning experience.  I mean, last night I ran and then did a short work out on the beach.  And it’s January… I’m sure my friends from California or Florida might not think that that’s all that special, but I was an East Coast kid, and Lake Effect snow was as common an occurrence in my childhood winters as breathing was.  This weekend, I floated in the Dead Sea (I promise I’m getting to that story soon too), and overall, even though I’ve been some other places around the world, this is the first time I’ve really felt like I’m at the core of it.  I’m not surrounded by hoards of Americans (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I think changes the experience you have wherever you go because you learn to lean on other people who grew up the way you did).  I just wake up in the morning, and head outside, pass by the lemon tree in the garden (literally had no idea that was there until one fell off the tree during a rainstorm the other week), and walk to the train station, stopping to grab rugelach, other pastries and fresh squeezed orange juice as necessary.  I ride the train with all the soldiers and other Israelis heading to work.  If I don’t speak, I wonder if they can tell that I’m not one of them.  By the way I walk?  The way I dress?  The way I look?  Apparently, they’re very good at that. 

            But, now I’m going to talk about the things I don’t like (don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a long, dragged out list of complaints or anything.  In fact, I’m primarily talking food here, and I apologize in advance if I offend anyone with my sheer dislike for certain Israeli delicacies.)
            But before we get into the food, I was a little frustrated the other day because all the lunch orders came into the company and were waiting downstairs to be claimed, and I was sure I had found my lunch (I mean, of dozens of choices, how many people order a quinoa salad?), but when I asked someone to translate the Hebrew name on it, they assured me it didn’t belong to me.  Half an hour later, I ventured back downstairs in search of my lunch, and my supervisor looked at it, and told me it was mine.  Because I order in English and the food ordering system is in Hebrew, my name comes up backwards, so it would be Abell Sarah, and when the restaurant tried to translate my last name (what they apparently thought was my first) into Hebrew, they mixed up the b with a d and I believe, lost an l, so it was “Adel”, thus it seemed like there was no way it could be mine, especially since I didn’t know enough Hebrew letters to decipher it (the written and typed letters are different as well).  So at first, I was hungry and my food was missing and I was annoyed but it was kind of hard to stay frustrated when I realized what had happened (I find it funny; I’ve seen it happen before.  If you search the hours of museums in Israel on Google, it will tell you that they’re open from 5PM to 9AM).  Then, my salad was really delicious, and worth the wait, so I don’t know if that counts as something I don’t like but it was a challenge, observation and learning experience and while it was a minor frustration, it was also a very interesting miscommunication and representation of the language barrier as well.  Believe it or not, Google translate can’t solve everything J

            But, okay, so now it’s time to be blunt.  I’m about to tell you about an experience I had last weekend which I’m currently trying to have my tastebuds forget.  I’m talking about Sahlab.  I absolutely detest this revolting concoction, and I am fully aware that I’m opening myself up to an onslaught of angry comments from all Sahlab lovers everywhere. 

            I’m trying to be open to new experiences (that’s why I tried carrot juice—not too bad, but as Isa’s daughter, Tami, pointed out to me, I kind of miss the carroty crunch—and Lemonana—which is basically crushed ice, mint and lemonade and it is so delicious that I could drink it all day for the rest of my life—and it’s why I try tahini all the time because even though I loathe certain types of it, it’s all made differently).  But, the truth is, I can’t love everything. 

            Crepes are solid, the frozen yogurt is so so (probably not as sweet as in the States/ Wooberry anyone?), hummus is and will always be held very near and dear to my heart, the fruit smoothie I had last week was slightly disappointing but I’ll give it another shot with a new flavor soon, Falafel has its moments, Tabouleh is delicious and I’m all for Challah (shout out to my friends who baked it with me before I left to come here; I still need that recipe). 

            But, Sahlab?  I can’t frame it in a good way from any angle I look at it.  I was provided with a cup of a white frothy pudding like substance and was immediately eager to begin the experience, but one spoonful in, and I wished I had just ordered Lemonana.  I guess you’re supposed to mix the cinnamon, coconut and peanuts from the top into it, but I don’t enjoy any of those substances enough to disguise the appalling taste I was experiencing. 

            I don’t even know how to explain it.  I guess it’s Turkish and/or Arab and is popular in Israel.  It’s either made with milk or water, in conjunction with Salep flour, rice flour, potato starch, sugar (clearly not enough) and maybe orchid of some sort (because I guess, Sahlab means orchid or is a type of one), but that recipe might be completely different than the one I “enjoyed” last weekend; it looked like pudding and maybe that was the problem; my tastebuds were expecting American made vanilla pudding and then received an unwelcome surprise that I can’t even put into words. 

            So I am sorry.  I apologize profusely to Sahlab lovers everywhere, but hopefully we can find something else in common, because it will never be this.  But, I tried; I gave it a shot, and I can’t do it.  I choked down about a fifth of a cup of it with the aid of some very tasty cookies and water.  And then I gave up.  I don’t know if it was too sweet (because supposedly it is sweet) or what, but if you’ve never had it and would like to come to Israel to try it out, let me know; I’ll take you to a café and order Lemonana while you have an experience you’ll never forget, for better or for worse. 

The Culture of Mandatory Military Service and Related Ramblings

            I asked at lunch the other day how far Be’er Sheva was from the Dead Sea.  They told me it was really far away.  A whole hour and a half. 

            I laughed, because by American standards, that’s not very far at all.  Since I go to college in New England seven hours away from my hometown of Buffalo, any time I meet anyone from Rochester (1 hour), Syracuse (2.5 hours) or let’s be real, even Albany (4.5 hours), I feel like I’ve found my upstate New York kin. 

            The irony is that apparently an hour and a half is a long time to drive somewhere, but in Tel Aviv, with rush hour traffic, tons of people take the train in the morning or drive and get stuck in traffic and spend an hour commuting from the suburbs anyway.  My 11 minute train ride results in a commute of 50 minutes to an hour by the time I walk and wait for the train, etc. 

            The point is, Israel is a tiny country, and as I’ve mentioned before, trains are packed at rush hour.  The same goes for traffic on the roads (Hello Boston, you’ve met your match). 

            It’s tiny and it’s locked in by several countries and a couple oceans… surrounded by nations with entirely different cultures, entirely different people, many of which would rather not recognize Israel as a nation. 

            That’s why every morning as I board the train, it’s packed with men and women younger than me in uniform, carrying huge duffle bags as they embark on whatever adventure awaits them at work.  That’s why everyone working at EarlySense is older than me because after four years of mandatory military service, they start university as the bulk of Americans graduate.  That’s why Israelis are so well traveled, why the man sitting across from me at lunch has seen more American national parks than I have (I’ve been to 5), why they’ve all been to Thailand and the United States and Australia, why they all say “Americans don’t really travel” (but is that really a fair comparison considering the massive population difference?). 

            I grew up in a border town, being able to cross into Canada every day if I wanted.  When I was little, we would go for haircuts and grocery shopping.  As I got older and the American dollar weakened, I would go to run and bike along the Niagara River.  It took 2 minutes to get across, or worst case scenario, an hour waiting in traffic, a couple questions, a check of your passport… I was shocked when my friends who could genuinely see Canada from their houses lacked the ability to go because they lacked passports. 

            But what would it be to be Israeli, live down near Eilat (the southernmost point in Israel) and be able to take a boat into the Red Sea where you can see Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Israel all at once?  To climb up the Golan Heights and see Syria but realize you will never go there? 

            You can never go there? 

            Do you even want to? 

            Does it look the same?  The geography what you’ve grown up with extending past the arbitrary (or not so arbitrary) line that someone drew a hundred years ago or fought for, agreed to, negotiated?  You get my point.  It’s not black and white.  Wars happened.  Israel pushed up through the Sinai Peninsula and then they were forced to back down.  The world demanded that they concede.  Peace talks occurred.  Villages burned.  Diplomacy governed.  People on both sides of the equation were disappointed in the process, disappointed that they had to evacuate their homes, disappointed that the world didn’t give them more support in their quest to take back what they truly believed was theirs, but at the end of the day, borders were set.  Cultures dictated on one side of the line and conflicting ones on the other, and in the case of the Palestinian Arab-Jewish equation, it’s a little different because they coexist to a degree.  Arabs live in the territories, but sometimes, so do the Jews.  Jewish people live in Israel, but sometimes so do the Arabs.  Some Arabs are tight with the Jews, like the Bedouins or the Druze who despite the culture difference, are proud to serve in the Israeli Defense Force, and others may apply and be rejected due to the security risk Israel would be opening themselves up to by accepting them into their Armed Forces.  There’s a continuum, similar to the one I talked about before regarding the levels of religiousness in this country.  There is hatred and there is acceptance.  There is fear and there is gratitude.  There is confusion and there is understanding.  People are starting to understand that this is the Holy Land not just for one religion, but three, and yet, there is a desperate need to protect the Jewish State as well. 

            A nation of prosperity on one side of the line.  Boys and girls who learn to fight, to lead, at 18 whether they want to or not.  They’re not like the Americans who join for the money or the glory or the pure desire to serve their country.  They have to; it’s so ingrained in their culture that they expect it.  Even if they hate it, they do it.  They’re brought up to see it as part of their lives.  They’re ready to go down fighting for their nation, like their ancestors did, but only if they have to. 

            But what’s on the other side?  Beyond the borders of the Jewish State, even beyond the West Bank? 

            The Israelis speculate.  But, will they ever really know?  In some cases, they work with Palestinian Arabs, accept peace offerings of Coca-Cola to show that they respect them, to emphasize that they care about them, that they are willing to work with them, get to know them. 
           In some cases, their troops push through the Sinai Peninsula, refusing to back down, ready to prove to Egypt that they're a force to be reckoned with.  They proved in history that they know how to fight, that they will not be disposed of.  

            But, no world is perfect.  Sometimes they, too, live in fear.  They pull their children out of school when there’s a shooting and drive them when there’s an attack on a nearby bus.  But, quickly enough, they snap out of it.  They let their kids take public transport and attend class, because they have no other choice, without letting the terrorists win.  They go about their regular routines.  They post security guards outside their malls and check all bags as people enter.  They run belongings through security scanners and passengers through metal detectors as we rush to board our trains.            

            Before I got here, when I heard, “there are armed soldiers everywhere”, I was picturing snipers posted on roofs waiting for any sign of danger, ready to shoot.  What I see is very different though.  Eighteen, nineteen, twenty-year-old soldiers, on their way to or from work or on a day of leave, carrying their rifle because it is his responsibility and eager to go on his way without taking the extra time to store it away somewhere, he takes it with him.   

            It’s almost nonchalant the way they carry them, just another part of their gear, their daily responsibility.  But, that doesn’t make them any less ready, the way they have to be. 

            It’s a complete 180 from the United States, where an ROTC cadet carried his decommissioned rifle somewhere onto campus last year and the police was called, and all ROTC units across the country were immediately demanded to keep their rifles locked up until procedures could be amended. 

            But that’s the culture difference.  We fear violence too, but we don’t prepare every single one of our young men and women to defend us from it.  

            That’s the thing.  Israelis are resilient.  They can’t go to Egypt or Syria or Lebanon, even if they wanted to.  Jordan, they technically can visit now, but a lot of people still don’t; it’s difficult. 

            They’re locked in by land and sea and a bunch of nations they don’t get along with, so instead of whining about it, they do their military service; they get the experience and perform their duty.  Then, they go off and see the world.  They flock to New York and Thailand and New Zealand or if they stay home, they get their friends together and hike the Israel National Trail.  They camp out, they go home on the weekends, spend time with their families and then do it all over again until they’ve completed the whole thing, a feat that is only possible because Israel is tiny.  If it was the Appalachian Trail, that wouldn’t be an option. 

            But, this is the Israeli condition.  They don’t plan ahead a whole year, the way the Americans do.  What’s the point?  Who knows where you will be a year from now? 

            They’re fully prepared to sprint into the nearest safe room the moment the sirens sound, no matter where they are or what they’re doing because you never know when it’s real or just a drill. 

            It’s part of their daily routine to have their bags checked as they enter the Dizengoff Center (a mall where a suicide bombing killed 13 Israelis in 1996) and any mall for that matter.  They’re used to going through metal detectors to board the train and having the world believe that they’re the most dangerous place on earth.  Even the employees of El Al Airlines when I was leaving Toronto for Tel Aviv, as they did my security check, grilled me on why I would want to go to a country that was considered to be dangerous.   But, for the record, I feel safer here at night and in general than back home. 

           A tiny country blessed with so much history, beauty, culture, hummus and falafel… The only nation in the world where you only have to be of a certain religion in order to be granted citizenship and on a scale where so many cultures have come to converge, so many companies have come to prosper, and more trees have been planted than taken down (which I recently discovered is because essentially nothing is built of wood here, but more on that later). 

           A nation that I have been blessed to see as more than just a tourist, to work with citizens of, to live like a local for just a short time.  It was well fought for, dreamed of for thousands of years, and has finally become a reality.  It’s not perfect, but nor is any country, and it has political issues that have yet to be resolved, but then again, so does any country. 

           That’s all I’ve got for now.  Catch you later.