The Price of Oil and Other Fun Stories

This weekend we nearly slept on a Firing Range on the Syrian Boarder under the stars.

All Israeli’s talk about going up North. We also wanted to go up North. Many people suggested it to us. We decided to go.

Late Thursday night we researched how to go about it. Myself and a friend from work. She’s American, and also here till May looking to spend weekends exploring the country. We looked up maps to find out what North comprised of. Looked up bus routes, hostels, tent renting. Research is harder than it sounds. We gave up and went to Jerusalem for the last night of the Sounds of the Old City Music Festival. This was how Israel looked in stories. Cobblestone lined alleys, shining with Use of thousands of years, the 4 quarters, Armenian, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, connected by alleyways in the middle but each with seperate entrances. At night, light by fairie-lights hanging overhead, with great colourful lanterns at each enterance. You know the venues that all good parties try to recreate- broken stone pillars, great sandstone walls, arches and tunnels leading to the Loos, this was that venue. The Original. Combine great sound systems, colored lights, candyfloss machines, with ancient history and the echoes or religion. Add 4 huge bands, a Halleluya band in the Christian quarter, and a Kabalistic drone in the Jewish quarter, with one-man artists along the pathways, on the reed pipes, or sitar. This is Israel. We ate at least 5 sticks of candyfloss.

And back to Tel Aviv at midnight.

Wake up, 8am back to the research hub. Spontaneous decision of my work-homie, to hire a car. She's 25 so she can. Not that expensive either. By 12 we were on the road, a hired Chevvy full of blankets, clothes, maps, stolen toilet paper, and food for 90Shekels (rye bread,pita,challah,carrots,cucumber,avo,tomato,apples,biscuits,chocolate, hummus, cheese many litres of water) <take note, because this fed us for breakfast lunch and supper from friday till sunday morning>

My sister and my South African slept in the back of the car. I navigated. We drove North, and then East, and then I woke them up, and had my own nap, and woke up in an incredibly smelly village.  We drove out of it, and found another smelly village. I'm sure if there were rednecks in Israel they would live there. We looked for coffee. There were washing machines, cow-skulls, small animals on victorian furniture(a lot of this) but no coffee. We left this town too. And soon we were at the Kineret, the largest fresh water body. Facts along these lines were bounced around the enclosed space of the car untill we stopped at a picknick stop along the highway, and ate oranges, and fresh air, and shmoosed with the dodgy local men. The day begun to darken. It was time to find a place to rest. This was 16:00. We continued this activity untill 21:00 that night. Again we learn that winging trips accross the country, is not always a good idea.

Where to sleep for the night when the options are:

a dodgey motel in Tiberias, we knocked on the door, no one came to answer, soon the neighbours came out, they had never heard of the place.

a hotel in Tiberias; 300Shekels per person. Not going to happen

The hostel on a hill, for unbeliveably cheap rates that the dodgey locals of the picnic spot had told us about; we couldnt find the hill, and no one we spoke to believed it existed.

A parking lot near the Kineret itself, a small fee for entrance, and maybe the risk of mosquitoes. We should have take it. I dont know why we didnt.

We called another work friend, the rasta man who went home to the north for weekends. He told us where to go. It was the long way around the kinneret. Turns out the lowest freshwater body is pretty big. Its at the junction between the 180 and the 886. Its dark when we arrive at the junction. There was no moon that night. We dont quite know which way to turn at the junction, we try left. There is a path, with a farm-gate, which may or may not be locked. We drive up to it. Through a puddle. Which turns out to be deep, muddy, and full of large rocks (boulders?). The hired chevy gets stuck. Me and my twin jump out to push it out. We push it out. There is a loud cracking noise. A bad smell. The gate is locked anyway. We dry off out feet, put on more jerseys, keep driving. We drive to Syria. How do we know this, well because when looking for a sign that read the name of the camping site we were searching for we saw a red sign reading FIRING ZONE DO NOT ENTER. We did not Enter. A Fox ran accross the road. We heard Howling. (this is legit, it was the 'little foxes', the next day we found out that this was Completely Normal).

Next option was a Game Reserve. But we didnt have tents. or rifles. It was not going to be a good idea.

We drove back to the junction. Tried every farm-path along the way. Called the Israeli friend who suggested this place again. Turns out it wasnt at the junction. It was before the junction. Before, preposition, meaning if we had not to/past the junction, we would not have driven through the mud and rocks; landed outselves in a military training zone on the border, or added 2 extra hours to our travels. The camping site at the junction was great; it was in a forrest, and there were other cars around a parking lot, tents, civilization. My sister cut the vegetables, my work-friend sorted the blankets etc, and my S.African friend made a fire with the wood we stole. Peeing in the dark is great. It was spiritual, beautiful, it was shabbat and we siad prayers over candles and bread. I have never seen such bright stars. I lay awake watching them for much of the night. It was too cold and uncomfortable to sleep. On a blanket on the floor, spooning, each in her own sleeping bag. Cramped. Work friend who rented the car woke me that morning. "The car is leaking oil". It was hard to get up. But then she said "Look over there" and it was ok again. A snow covered mountain in the distance, past the long grassy plains dotted with flowers. No wonder it was so cold.

The most stressfull morning. I dont wish to think about the crisis over the car ever again. The oil was empty, impossible to drive, we called the friend who had led us there, as well as the car hire company. Exchanges in Hebrew. Stress, fatigue, shouting, concern. But also it was beautiful, and the Israeli friend, (the rasta man who led us this way/ astray...) drove out for an hour to come rescue us, and made coffee on his little gas stove.

And we went for a walk (when we came back the car was gone, as if none of it ever happened. The company had taken it, and had refused to give us a replacement vehicle as my friend (and certainly not us) didnt have the money in her account for a second deposit. All that was left was an oil stain on the empty parking lot of the forrest.

Led by the Israeli friend, we walked to a waterfall. Everything was spectaclar, the flowers were the most colourful, the most unique, the grass was postcardly green, and endless. The physical exersion, after a day of sitting in the car was most wellcome. And the waterfall which we heard a good ten minutes before we actually saw it, was magnificent. Furthur up ahead we climbed down, put out feet it the icy water, watched the trekkers, got some good old vitamin D. Seeing ones colleagues without their clothes on is quite a trippy experice let me tell you. And soon we were heading back, finding places to pee along the way. Settled down to an amazing lunch, mintish tea of picked israeli plants brewed on the gas stove, and ofcourse bread, fuit, veg the usual. We were alive again, refreshed from the Chevy Crisis.

We drove to a view point of the Syrian Border, more friendly in the day. We could see the UN camps there, and the fence that seperated the nations. We drove through Drews villages, up long and windy paths (rocks on the road were still a sensitive issue) untill a high deserted area, Lebanons border. We learned of the screaming hills; Drews are loyal to their country, but when Israel and Syria made their boudaries, families were seperated and are known to trek to a hill with a valley accross the border, from which they can shout to their relatives in Syria, or in Israel, their voices echoing accross the border although they can never reunite.

We went to a lake in a tiny village, past carcasses of deceased domestic animals, and pollution, rubbish collecting over the years, through private property to an empty area around a lake, in front of the mountain capped with snow. The reflection even clearer than the mountian itself. I lay upsidedown and questioned the sky. We were very tired all day, and spoon hour kept dropping in eve at the most spiritual of times.

And then we were off again back through the polluted village and insearch of the 'best fallafel place in Israel'. Its atleast 4 hours from tel aviv. Worth it.

And soon it was a rush to the bus station, drop my sister and my southafrican off and me and my work homie went to crash the night at our Israeli work homie's place. It was amazing to have a shower, cutlery, light and mostly a bed. Safe, happy, tired, clean.

However the perfect end to the week turned out the be the car ride back the next morning. We talked about our liberal ideas of openness, sexuality, orgies. And the perfect rasta Israeli who eats only organic vegetables and got out of Army Service turns out to be a sexist homophobe... They debated how 'natural' involved men being allowed to love many women, but women having to look after any babies that G-d/the man brings about. They debated the unnaturalness of homosexuality, and if our purpose is to live G-ds will and live naturally. I could barely talk. I was too shocked. <Although ofcourse I couldnt stop a few sarcastic phrases slipping out>. If I cant seperate the Person, from the Ideas, I will have no friends in Israel. This I am learning fast.

I have kept all these crazy life changing adventures in, unexpressed, no time to think about. Work was so hectic, so Normal. I only ever got a chance to emotion-ise when I thought I'de accidentally forwarded an offensive email to the entire staff (with the 'all@') button. Then I went red, ran around in cricles, laughing crying, expressing, freaking out. But afterall, I'de been holding in a freak-out for far too long. Everyone stopped what they were doing to ask if I was ok. I got myself together, had some water, and went to sort out the situation. Afterall, if I cant overcome obstacles what can I do, next time the car breaks down alongside a military firing range in the Middle East.

Smells Like Sweat with a hint of Contentment

Everyone knows that these idealist liberal NGO charity change the world type of organisations are  populated by lefty students with mentors and dreams. And when an old, unmarried post middle aged man is still in this spectre of work, one always wonders, ‘why didn’t he sell out too. Isn’t it about time’. However, I feel like one day I’m going to be him. The person that everyone feels slightly sorry for, for not making enough of his life. But when I doubt my continued stay at my present workplace I realise that this is the kind of environment I want to be a part of for ever. People here, are just. So. Cool.

Today a co-worker’s bike was stolen. She is a beautiful young South American woman. Very small. She came in to the office carrying her bike wheel and looking sad. (Some places only have room for bikes to be chained at the wheel and so it is a commonality to see dejected people walking around carrying their wheels or bike seats). She put the wheel down safely in the office and went off to look for her bike. Everyone knows of the infamous stolen-bike neighbourhood. A few hours later she returned, flushed, carrying her bike which she had successfully located, and demanded back from the thief in question. She dropped it nearby her wheel and set off again, grabbing a bunch of the pamphlets that her organisation makes. Hers is another NGO in our office that helps refugees start up small businesses. In response to our excitement about getting her bike back which became interrogation about where she was going NOW, she explained that she was going back to where she had found her bike to distribute her pamphlets and try to help the bike thieves, whom she was very angry with, to start up proper businesses, so as not to have to steal her bike again. And so she did. Pretty much, everyone here is amazing. I have grown to fall in love with the people I work with over my short and intense time here. 

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Last week involved the loveliest of evenings. A long day at work but couldn’t bring myself to go home. As always, when the need arises, I make friends. And so it was that I ended up going rock climbing with two new volunteers. I climbed a wall, and I did it for free, unlike one of the guys I was with, who paid the 50shekel fee and didn’t manage it. Unfortunately my friendship with him was short lived, as we accidentally found ourselves in a political argument when my guard was let down. However I think I met two of the nicest girls that I’ve ever met in my lives. The people I usually associate with aren’t, ‘nice’ so to speak. I mean, I’m not nice. I’ve never even approved of the nice type of people. But the next plan for the evening was to go out for chocolate with the shelter volunteers. I got a facebook message last night in response to my status complaining about being broke and down, and in response she invited me to go with the shelter volunteers to Max Brenner, a restaurant that specialises in everything chocolate. I mean, she hardly knows me, she has no invested interest in me, yet she cares enough to invite me, confirm that I am coming, and then even PAY FOR ME. I was too surprised to argue. I had wondered why she had invited me to a restaurant after I said I was broke, but the conclusion I had come to was that when one had very little money, the only thing to do was to spend what you did have on chocolate!! Something I found so sensible that I planned my evening around it. It was just really nice to sit and be with them, Germans and Danes.

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And infact the day after that topped it all. This was Thursday Night, the beginning of the weekend in the Holy Land. We all headed out for a Staff Night Out, in an Ethiopian restaurant that was used to serving 8 customers, not 28. And then some. Good food, obviously, also got a chance to talk to my boss (the one who makes me wash the dishes etc). I sat with some of the new volunteers, and it was relaxing and delicious, but all the people that I really wanted to get to know, i.e the people I have been working with for over a month yet know very little about, were sitting at the other side of the table (we split into veggie and non-veggie to share Injira’s). But after the meal there were those of us without families who awaited our return, or parties that we were required to attend etc, who headed out off to the bar that one of my colleagues, an Argentinian, works at. That’s right. Free drinks. The company included, in age order: me(19) and this beautiful Rasta Israeli guy(21ish), and then ranged from 25 up until 40. It is the most amazing thing to get to know people only after you’ve known them for a long time. Every time anyone at the office lets out something about their lives, such as how the 40 year old (probably my favourite person in the world. And completely crazy) used to play rugby. Or how the 29 year old wanted to go to Africa but found an Israeli boyfriend. Or what Zion is for Rastafarian Israelis. Drank a bit much, but didn’t embarass myself. Just managed to tell a few people that it wasn’t exactly a boy that I was looking for (after they’d tried to hook me up with a few Ghanaians).

I’ve mentioned the age thing because it is a thing. Everyone assumes I’m in my late twenties when I’m in the office, yet as soon as I set outside its borders, in a social situation, they double-take and ask my age. This trend happened, exactly like that, at least 4 times. So no exaggeration. My response is always, ‘I am very young’. Because around all these geriatrics, I really am. I could lie, and say I’m 24 just to keep my secret identity, but I love to watch the shock, the initial rejection, and the final and awkward yet enthusiastic acceptance.  Mostly. And the benefits, are found in being young and free, but learning from the amazing and experienced souls around me. (And by that I mean being able to get in to a 25+ bar because I have friends in high places…) J

Today I caught site of myself walking up Shalama Street, South Tel Aviv. There was something about me that caught my eye. It was in my step, and my swinging hair and slightly sweaty forhead. And I thought about what it might be and why I got this when I walked alone down the streets of Tel Aviv, missioning. I think its called ‘happy’ and I think I found it. And I think I am where I want to be. At least for now.

Selling my Soul

Right now I'm not having an Existential Crisis
I'm having a Financial Crisis, a Safety Crisis, a Political Crisis, an Employment Crisis
but not the usual one.

My credit card has given its limit and given up on me. I have no more money and my bus card had just run out. Also, i dont even know where the money goes, because I dont buy THINGS, I only buy food and pay for transport.
There were rocket attacks at a Kibbuts 30 minutes from Yavne, and not only am i begining to get freaked out by the hype around the issue (in Yavne, and the lack of interest in the rest of Israel), but other issues are transforming such as the issue with my family who have been hosting me because although I have learned to feel at home there, I am really worried that I am once again becoming a burden on them. . . Now I can feel how concerned they are, they worry they have to answer to my formidable parents if i get destoyed. Well, mainly I think they dont want me to be traumatised. And I feel so bad because they have been so wellcomming and kind and hospitable, and all I've done is add worry to their lives. This isnt Jew-guilt, its because feeling responsible for other people is a big thing, something no one takes on lightly. Every person is solely responisble for themselves, and few can handle more without the benefits of eternal love and cute photos. And I wanted to avoid making any being responisble for me too, but you know these jewmommas cannot help it. I think I might spend more time in other cities to give them a break.
But also, I am a little scared of these rocket attacks. I am not used to the commotion, and I dont believe in the cause. And so I am uncomfortable. Merely a Comfort Crisis?
And ofcourse there is the usual issue with work. I come home with stress about the things I havent done sitting in a pit in my belly. And I probably dont sleep enough. Although I try.
And also, I dont listen to music enough, or pray enough, or Create. So its no wonder I'm holding back an existeni-financial-crisis.
I think I'll probably sell my soul


Omg. This girl from work, a volunteer in the shelter; just invited me to go with them for chocolate tomorrow.
That is so nice.

Israeli Boys

I love to tell you about what a party animal I am right?
Well, today I got woken up at 6:30am and made to run to the bomb shelter after the siren went off (turned out to be the neighbouring town if you find that consoling- I dont.) Then, I attempted to nap off the adrenalin rush for an hour, before heading off to work. I was in the office from 10am untill 8pm. I trained 3 new receptionists, 1 new interviewer, and oriented one new full time volunteer. I made one tutor appointment for a client, gave another interview, and did none of the work I was supposed to be doing- you remember, sending emails...
And then I missed my bus and waited and got home at 9.30.
Thats right. I'm a party-in-a-box.

But lets be honest, you're reading this because I'm going to talk about Israeli Boys. Half the people I know (ok, without exageration, I know at least 6 people, mostly volunteers) who are in Israel with their Israeli boyfriends. They are all from civil Western Countries, generally with a degree or two behind them, yet they've halted their lives for a while to come stay with their Israeli Boys. Israeli boys are all the same. They're good looking, with that fantastic accent and husky voice, and mainly- the self confidence of three years with a rifle and a tank behind them. Charmers and they know it. And they are so ready to shamelessly throw themselves at you. I spoke to three of them today, ages 17, 24, and 26, and they were all the same in their hitting-on manerisms. Scary stuff.
However, I'm much more intimidated by Israeli girls, so please, if you thought this blog was going to ever display any action, you've got another think comming.

Heat in the Middle East

The Main Reason I havent written for a while, is not because I've been partying my ass off for the last 3 weeks, but because I have been working like a middle-aged store owner on Christmas. Things are crazematayz at the office. We dont have a receptionist, and we are in the middle of the South Sudanese crisis, so not only am I the Volunteer and Tutor Coordinator, but I am also taking over reception, and giving Refugee Status Determination Interviews. It got pretty hectic this week. I did all the other stuff ok, but not the part that was origally s'posed to be my job. Had an existantial crisis onece off, even called my parents to ask for advice, something I have never done in my whole life. Right now though, I'm ok work-wise. I feel like I'm balancing precariously on a thin line which I might easily begin to slip from, but so long as I keep on balancing, Its ok. 
Highlights of the last few weeks:
Shuk party on a Monday night with my friend who was a Madricha(cousellor) on camp with me. It was an amazing thing to see, a party in the small alleys of the food market. The market closes down for the day, and the bars open and the people gather in the small hours of the night. A fantastic emulsion of hipster Israelites and Foreigners and Palastinians and Tourists and Arsim.
And whilst it was amazing to see, I soon discovered that the crowd vibes were surprisingly similar to the vibes at the party I had been to the weekend before (containing drunk American type teenagers...) My friend admitted that she felt old, but as I also felt out of it, I guess that its not an age thing, its a vibe thing. I've learned that I'm not into watching people try to impress.. 

That weekend, besides the Shnat party, I also went to for Shabbat dinner to the house of this Israeli guy who has been in South Africa doing work for my Youth Movement there. We went, jammed(guitar and classics), ate good food, watched his family fight, slept on his comfy bed while we awaited the arrival of the other guests. The simplicity of hospitality is a truly beautiful thing- an epiphany which completely freaked me out. Because the whole year we had assumed that he was too cool to come over for our crummy dinners, to free to want to watch our family politics. Yet now I know something that I wish I knew before, but which I never could have known until I experienced it; I now know what its like to be alone in a foreign place, and I now know just how good it feels to be invited into someones warm and cosy house and pretend to be part of their family for a while. And the huge ball of regret for my own unhospitality these past years will hopefully make a dent in my future

And more of the great events of these past few weeks: A crazy night in Tel Aviv where my sister and her roommate came to play; I know a crazy Russian from work who is in love with me, but old enough to be my father, who has previously offered for me to rent the other room in his flat. I decided that onece-off rent every now an again when I want to stay in tel Aviv is the best and most affordable way for now. And so it was that I found myself wondering down the dodgey streets of Tel Aviv, Levinsky street- (look it up, its kinda sketch). That night we crashed a party full of middle-aged lesbians; it was an interracial activist type party, Israel/Palastine hebrew/arabic lesbians/mostly dancing to weird and wonderful music. We then crashed another party, at a very snazzy bar, a birthday party where we go free cake but expensive beer. And soon we were off to experience shoko bsakiet (chocolate milk-in a bag!)(Its a very Israeli thing. its a bit ridiculous) for the first time, and a DMC session with a group of rasta-esque men who smoked a joint and told me tales of their travels to Ethiopia and other such stories. And the next morning we went for Shakshuka (egg and tomato, food of the land) and coffee and the cutest little restuarant down the road. Its amazing how areas here transform. Its like one place is a different country in the day and in the night. One day I will try to a photographic experiment on this, because its truly remarkable!

Oh and I nearly forgot to talk of the snow! It seems now that I'm writing that there was alot I did, despite that it felt like it was office work all-day, ery-day. . .
Snow storms, for risk of sounding wanky, are the most magical thing it the world. You can tilt your head back, open your eyes, and look up watching the flakes whirlll. It seems that the last 'snow' we saw, was infact sleet, or mini-hail. But how was I to know, not having seen snow, untill now!

And these are the highlights that I can fit into this single post... More may come, with pictures too. Because I dont want to forget things. Sometimes I wonder what experices are for; is it memories, or experice itself, and then what? So, untill I know, I try to write things down and take photos, for memories, just incase. You know?
And now; flashbacks aside lets cut to the present.

Purim In Israel!!! Thursday was crazy. Work was crazy, then I skyped my South Africans, all my lovlies who used to live in my house practically, were back in my house, eating dinner with my parents, messing up my room. It was truly the most beautiful thing. My mom said it seemed unfathomable that I wasnt there. I felt so too. I felt there for a little while. I miss them pretty bad, especially after seeing their awkward faces when they didnt have anything to say too me, because having too much to say has that effect. And so it was already 8 when I shut down my computer and left the office in a rush, heading ofcourse, for Jerusalem. <This resulted in a crises that went on the whole weekend where I felt I had left the gas heater on and burned down the office...so much for a attempting to depict a responsible and independent young person...>. At near Midnight did I finally sort myself out enough to go partying, where I proceded to fulfill the Mitzvah (commandment) of drinking so much that I couldnt 'Tell Good From Evil'. flashbacks include dancing till I fell over, peeing in a bush, crying a little, dancing alot, from Mattisyah- to the Beatles, adventuring all over to find whatever party-and picking up friends along the way. Eventually crashed at 5am, only to wake up a few hours later and jump out of bed with great plans to head back to Tel Aviv to turn off the heater! But, ofcourse, I had partied far harder that I usually do, and could not make it past the bus station. I have never in my life felt so sick, and so sore and so terrible. I needed to crash and be cared for, but as always, and for noones fault but my own, i found myself alone in the bus station, regretting leaving the comfort of my friends bed (his mom's a rabbi, I would have been the most safe and happy had i stayed!). But soon, my South African friend rescued me, talked calmly to me on the phone, made me come home, made me food. She is the one who gets me out of crisies these days, and I own her my soul for it. I did very little else that day. Recovered, ate..
Today we went to the Old City. It was the first time that I could actually FEEL that I was in Israel. It looked like a Postcard, the Western Wall, the Dome of the Rock, blue skies, bright sandstone floors which reflected the light after being worn shiny by feet of thousands of generations. We got lost. Ended up in East Jerusalem. It was all incredible to see. A mysterious country this is, everything around you is a question of some sort.
And on the way back I heard news from my Aunt-Cousin, and this was my freakout which took place on facebook "rockets in the south and gaza. 8 injured, 12 killed... it only just hit me that I came to a war ridden country, on my gap yah. why didnt my parents let me go to congo.
Its really safe to walk around here at night- you dont get robbed or kidnapped; you just have to know how to run to the bomb shelter..."
Someone then told me that it 'wasnt as bad as I was making it out to be', that 'I wasnt going to get killed'. Which is probably true, I'm going to come back from my Gap Yah just fine, but the 12 Palastinians who lost their lives, whoever they might be, have ended their journey. And being at the site, where all around me is the risk of people's journey's being ended abruptly and without warning... is not natural. I'm not prepared for it.
Internally, I am built with adrenalin in dark alley's, I  freak out when a man approaches me at night, I avoid scary rape/rob/stab spots. I hold on to my bag at the zipper. I buckle my seat belt in the wee drunk-driving hours. *** And every time they interogate me at the airport, or seach my bag for the weapons I may or may not be bringing in to the bus station, I laugh about it. 'Terrorist threats' amuse me, I wonder about human mentality. Yet at the same time, when things get real, its weird, surreal.
Apparently I'll get used to it. USED TO IT? I dunno....Humans are a fucked up spiecies...

When I got back to Tel Aviv, I went to check the office. The heater had been off the whole time.