Second week on the base. Three people left us last week, and even though I barely knew them I miss them. Especially given some of the people who have come on to replace them. We now have an additional 4 male volunteers, all of them in the 17-19 age range. Two of them are from Brooklyn but look like they're more at home on the Jersey Shore. They are however, good an energetic workers provided there are women around for them to flex in front of. It seems like after this week, the group will nearly be desintigrating.
The one new female volunteer, a 28 year old French woman who is considering Aliya will only be with us one week before moving to another base. It seems like our last week will be stag.
While we gel on our work assignments, in our personal time we seem to split up a lot. We're all on the same base, in the same barracks, same food, jobs, etc. but it seems like we're on different planets.
Today was a day off. We did a hike at the Ein Gedi National Park, and a swim/float in the Dead Sea. Both are more or less touristy things, but I enjoyed them. Especially taking a dip in the pools at Ein Gedi. The Dead Sea beach was also much better than the one my youth group went to many years ago. The beach was coarse sand as opposed to my previous experience with salt crusted rocks. I also did not have any blisters this time around so I was not in anywhere near the same level of pain.
Tonight a group of us walked over to the neighboring base to hang out, get snacks and perhaps use the computers. I took one look at the line for the computers and gave up on that. I can wait a couple days to get online. After about an hour of joking, talking, and people watching I headed back. As I approached the break in the fence between some dumpsters that led to our base I reflected on the first time I made that walk last week. “WOW. I am walking around on an army base like I really belong here. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”
I have not only gotten used to it, I've gotten kind of comfortable with it. As i passed the fence line I unbuttoned my uniform shirt to the navel and loosened it a bit so the breeze went through. (On the other base we are required to wear our uniform shirt and pants with the shirt tucked in. On our base, things are looser except for meals.) I strolled back leisurely enjoying the full moon and lamenting the light pollution that blocked out most of the stars. There were scattered pops from the firing ranges. I'd long since stopped trying to identify weapons by sound. With the large open spaces and desert breezes it is hard to even determine directionality. There were a couple single barks, followed by a few lighter pops, a strange metallic clank or two, some strings of pops, all deadened by distance and the wind. Jets cut paths through the sky, some with their lights looking like meteors, others announced their presence only with a roar. I chuckled thinking of when I watched Area 88 with one of my friends back home. It's a Japanese cartoon about mercenary pilots from all over the world in the service of a desert country. It doesn't line up exactly, but there are one or two parallels. Mostly the heat and the international nature of our crew. Also, that everyone is here for different reasons, and not everyone will talk about them.
As I write this, sweat streams down my forehead and my arms are covered as well. As soon as I'm done here, I will take a quick shower before going to sleep. I know it won't do much to clean me. I''ll be covered in sweat and grime 5 minutes later. Even when I am with my friend over the weekend Ｉ ｗiｌｌ ｓｔｉｌｌ ｂｅ ｍｏｓｔｌｙ ｃｏｖｅｒｅｄ ｉｎ ｓｗｅａｔ ａｎｄ ｇｒｉｍｅ． Ｉｔ’ｓ ｊｕｓｔ ａ ｆａｃｔ ｏｆ ｌｉｆｅ ｈｅｒｅ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｗｅａｔｈｅｒ． Ｉ ｓｔｉｌｌ ｈａｖｅ ａｂｏｕｔ ３．５ ｗｅｅｋｓ ｂｅｆｏｒｅ Ｉ ｃａｎ ｔａｋｅ ａ ｌｏｎｇ ｈｏｔ ｓｈｏｗｅｒ． Ｅｖｅｎ ｏｆｆ ｔｈｅ ｂａｓｅ Ｉ ｌｉｍｉｔ ｍｙｓｅｌｆ ｔｏ ａ ｃｏｕｐｌｅ ｍｉｎｕｔｅｓ ｔｏ ｓａｖｅ ｗａｔｅｒ． Ｔｈｉｎｇｓ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ａｒｅ ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ ｏｖｅｒ ｈｅｒｅ ａｎｄ ａｎｙ ｔｉｍｅ Ｉ ｓｅｅ ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ ｆａｍｉｌｉａｒ Ｉ ａｍ ｑｕｉｃｋｌｙ ｒｅｍｉｎｄｅｄ ｏｆ ｈｏｗ ｆａｒ Ｉ ａｍ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｗｏｒｌｄ Ｉ ｋｎｏｗ． Ｂｕｔ ｔｈａｔ ｔｏｏ ｉｓ ｗｈａｔ Ｉ ｃａｍｅ ｆｏｒ． Ｔｈｅｒｅ’ｓ ｓｔｉｌｌ ｐｌｅｎｔｙ ｔｏ ｅｘｐｌｏｒｅ ｏｎ ｐｌａｎｅｔ Ｅａｒｔｈ． Ｄｏ ｉｔ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｇｅｔ ｔｈｅ ｃｈａｎｃｅ．
[I have no idea what happened tot he font and kerning here. I couldn't figure out how to fix it in my work processor, and there's no way to figure it out in Word 2010- Hebrew edition.]
Friday, August 27, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Drinking religiously in the Holy Land
Well, the Jerusalem Beer Fest was a real blast! On my way to the Jerusalem Hostel, one of my fellow volunteers, a Chabadnic, introduced me to two of his friends we ran into on the street. Both of them were going to the festival so I met up with them. We talked beer and some other things and eventually we played a little Jewish geography finding out that one of the guys went to school with my cousin Joe.
I found some beers from a wonderful micro brewery outside Tel Aviv called Dancing Camel. Nice ales, a real nice wheat beer, perfect for summer swigging. I couldn't bring myself to try any of the heavier brews. It's just too hot out for really dark ales and stouts. Even at night.
On the way back to my hostel I ended up tagging along with a few guys from the Givati Brigade as the went for burgers at a faux Irish pub. Oddly enough, it was one of the best burgers I've ever had. Juicy, spicy, just the right amount of carbon crunch on the outside- even the chips (fries for you Yanks.) were right on.
Friday was spent wandering around on foot. I stopped at the Kotel (Western Wall) and put in a word for, well- if you're reading this probably you if by association not name. Because it was Friday and Ramadan the police in the Old City were loaded for bear. I actually saw one walking by with a full bandoleer of 40mm shells. I went the other way. Wherever a guy like that is going, I don't want to be. On my way out I stopped to look for some things for people back home, thus began one of the funnier episodes so far.
I saw some Judaica and asked about a Jerusalem stone Mezzuzah, “Sure, this Judaica shop, I have!” Yeah. Judaica shop. You've got Mezzuzot, Shofars and Mogen Davids next to Rosary beads, prayer rugs, crucifixes an icons. Add to that you're reading an Arabic newspaper. Let the fun begin. I eventually found all I was looking for and that begun the most fun part: Haggling. 1300 Shekels? I think not. Maybe if I were getting a Mezzuzah that has documentation saying that Theodore Herzl himself carved it on the train to the first Zionist Congress back in the 1800's. I got everything for 500. The best part was as I was leaving the shop owner said, “A'salaam aleikum.” Judaica shop. I guess if a Jew walks in the door, yeah. I answered in kind, “Aleikum salaam.”
Today was a trip to the newly remodeled Israel Museum for a bit of culture with some friends who came in from Tel Aviv. We didn't get to the whole museum, it's pretty huge and there is all of recorded history to cover. My friends did not appreciate the modern art sections and that kind of bugs me. Granted, there is a historical context which makes “getting” Cubism, Futurism and Dada difficult, but still, the notion that somehow something is not art just because you can't understand it at a glance bugs the hell out of me.
Right now I'm killing time until Shabbat ends and I can get some chow. Then I have to pack up so I can get to Takanah Merkazi (Central Bus Station) and get a bus to meet the group on time In Beer Sheba.
I found some beers from a wonderful micro brewery outside Tel Aviv called Dancing Camel. Nice ales, a real nice wheat beer, perfect for summer swigging. I couldn't bring myself to try any of the heavier brews. It's just too hot out for really dark ales and stouts. Even at night.
On the way back to my hostel I ended up tagging along with a few guys from the Givati Brigade as the went for burgers at a faux Irish pub. Oddly enough, it was one of the best burgers I've ever had. Juicy, spicy, just the right amount of carbon crunch on the outside- even the chips (fries for you Yanks.) were right on.
Friday was spent wandering around on foot. I stopped at the Kotel (Western Wall) and put in a word for, well- if you're reading this probably you if by association not name. Because it was Friday and Ramadan the police in the Old City were loaded for bear. I actually saw one walking by with a full bandoleer of 40mm shells. I went the other way. Wherever a guy like that is going, I don't want to be. On my way out I stopped to look for some things for people back home, thus began one of the funnier episodes so far.
I saw some Judaica and asked about a Jerusalem stone Mezzuzah, “Sure, this Judaica shop, I have!” Yeah. Judaica shop. You've got Mezzuzot, Shofars and Mogen Davids next to Rosary beads, prayer rugs, crucifixes an icons. Add to that you're reading an Arabic newspaper. Let the fun begin. I eventually found all I was looking for and that begun the most fun part: Haggling. 1300 Shekels? I think not. Maybe if I were getting a Mezzuzah that has documentation saying that Theodore Herzl himself carved it on the train to the first Zionist Congress back in the 1800's. I got everything for 500. The best part was as I was leaving the shop owner said, “A'salaam aleikum.” Judaica shop. I guess if a Jew walks in the door, yeah. I answered in kind, “Aleikum salaam.”
Today was a trip to the newly remodeled Israel Museum for a bit of culture with some friends who came in from Tel Aviv. We didn't get to the whole museum, it's pretty huge and there is all of recorded history to cover. My friends did not appreciate the modern art sections and that kind of bugs me. Granted, there is a historical context which makes “getting” Cubism, Futurism and Dada difficult, but still, the notion that somehow something is not art just because you can't understand it at a glance bugs the hell out of me.
Right now I'm killing time until Shabbat ends and I can get some chow. Then I have to pack up so I can get to Takanah Merkazi (Central Bus Station) and get a bus to meet the group on time In Beer Sheba.
Somewhere in Midbar Negev
Date: 16 August, 2010
Day one on the base: Finally I'm getting the dry heat.
I'm on a base in the Negev desert where the daytime highs are in the high 30's Celsius with broken overcast consisting of F-15's,16's A-4's and Apaches. That's about all I can say about the base. Like most of southern Israel we're in rocket range of Gaza so any other landmarks are a big No-No.
The barracks are an improvement over my previous volunteer mission. There are no bunk beds and the barracks are not pre-fab. Like the previous base, we have no air conditioning, but we do have working fans. My roommates and I managed to snag two. We are also in possession of the better part of a case of toilet paper. Most of the volunteers are repeats so we are somewhat accomplished scroungers. That said, I still couldn't get a pair of good fitting trousers. Mine are too big in the waist, and a couple inches two short.
The base does have a room with public internet computers, but the hours are kind of sporadic and it is usually kind of busy. I managed to get on for half an hour last night.
The volunteer group is much younger, than my previous experience. Our oldest volunteer is 30, the youngest 20. There are a couple who already made Aliya or are in the process. Most interesting to me, there are women on this group. I don't really see anything developing with any of them- at least not on the volunteer mission. To be honest, the presence of young, single attractive, Jewish women makes this at times feel a bit like a youth group trip. Some of us, like myself are looking to find someone and that might make things interesting later on.
So far work has been excellent. We did some warehouse organization, but the highlight of the day was loading equipment onto a couple TOMAT. TOMAT is an Israeli acronym for something along the lines of, “Self-propelled artillery piece.” In this case, a Made in the USA M-109 Paladin. If anything starts going down soon, these will likely be moving out to drop steel rain on some very bad people. And I helped. Tov meod.
Date: 18 August 2010
Week one of Sar-El is drawing to a close.
As I said before, I'm somewhere in the Negev Desert. (Midbar Negev) I just found out that we're well withing rocket and artillery range of Gaza. That's really not to remarkable considering the range of the things and the size of the country.
The work has alternated between being intensely physical and engaging to being quite dull. The only stuff I can really talk about at the moment are the dull parts. The base we're on is mainly a reserve logistics base for armor. The soldiers here maintain and equip tanks, APC's and self propelled artillery so that in the event of a war the crews can go right to the vehicles, fire them up and go.
Several of the group are leaving after this week. Most are returning volunteers who completed a program immediately prior to this. One of our Mardichot (leaders) is leaving as well. She's going on leave. It's kind of hard to figure out how I feel about all of the people, especially the Madricha who's leaving us. Tal is a really nice girl and incredible perceptive, but at the same time seems a bit immature. I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it's that she seems to have a way with guys who aren't me.
This weekend I'm going to Jerusalem for a family visit and the obligatory visits to the holy places. I feel almost like I can skip going to the Western Wall, “Been there, done that,” you know? Except for one thing. I have a new cousin. A baby girl named Aviva. She should get her name on a note in the Wall. There is also family to visit and a beer fest/concert in German Colony. (It's either that or finding a pub and downing a few [too many] Gin and Tonics.)
Getting there and back will have me using the Israeli bus system, which is infinitely more complicated than the rail system. I could use the soldiers hostel in Jerusalem. I stayed there two years ago, but I really want someplace air conditioned. One of my bunkmates knows a couple hostels but he will likely be staying with some of his more religious friends. I'll probably be meeting some fiends on Saturday, but if that falls through I'll spend the day at the Israel Museum. It's air conditioned and recently remodeled. I can easily spend the day there. I think this is one of the times I am most anxious about. The idea that I can get around the city to build confidence-”Been there, done that.” I just don't want to do it alone. I really hate feeling like an outsider and I'm hoping that I'll be able to fall in with some good people. Or at least fall in with some fun ones.
Day one on the base: Finally I'm getting the dry heat.
I'm on a base in the Negev desert where the daytime highs are in the high 30's Celsius with broken overcast consisting of F-15's,16's A-4's and Apaches. That's about all I can say about the base. Like most of southern Israel we're in rocket range of Gaza so any other landmarks are a big No-No.
The barracks are an improvement over my previous volunteer mission. There are no bunk beds and the barracks are not pre-fab. Like the previous base, we have no air conditioning, but we do have working fans. My roommates and I managed to snag two. We are also in possession of the better part of a case of toilet paper. Most of the volunteers are repeats so we are somewhat accomplished scroungers. That said, I still couldn't get a pair of good fitting trousers. Mine are too big in the waist, and a couple inches two short.
The base does have a room with public internet computers, but the hours are kind of sporadic and it is usually kind of busy. I managed to get on for half an hour last night.
The volunteer group is much younger, than my previous experience. Our oldest volunteer is 30, the youngest 20. There are a couple who already made Aliya or are in the process. Most interesting to me, there are women on this group. I don't really see anything developing with any of them- at least not on the volunteer mission. To be honest, the presence of young, single attractive, Jewish women makes this at times feel a bit like a youth group trip. Some of us, like myself are looking to find someone and that might make things interesting later on.
So far work has been excellent. We did some warehouse organization, but the highlight of the day was loading equipment onto a couple TOMAT. TOMAT is an Israeli acronym for something along the lines of, “Self-propelled artillery piece.” In this case, a Made in the USA M-109 Paladin. If anything starts going down soon, these will likely be moving out to drop steel rain on some very bad people. And I helped. Tov meod.
Date: 18 August 2010
Week one of Sar-El is drawing to a close.
As I said before, I'm somewhere in the Negev Desert. (Midbar Negev) I just found out that we're well withing rocket and artillery range of Gaza. That's really not to remarkable considering the range of the things and the size of the country.
The work has alternated between being intensely physical and engaging to being quite dull. The only stuff I can really talk about at the moment are the dull parts. The base we're on is mainly a reserve logistics base for armor. The soldiers here maintain and equip tanks, APC's and self propelled artillery so that in the event of a war the crews can go right to the vehicles, fire them up and go.
Several of the group are leaving after this week. Most are returning volunteers who completed a program immediately prior to this. One of our Mardichot (leaders) is leaving as well. She's going on leave. It's kind of hard to figure out how I feel about all of the people, especially the Madricha who's leaving us. Tal is a really nice girl and incredible perceptive, but at the same time seems a bit immature. I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it's that she seems to have a way with guys who aren't me.
This weekend I'm going to Jerusalem for a family visit and the obligatory visits to the holy places. I feel almost like I can skip going to the Western Wall, “Been there, done that,” you know? Except for one thing. I have a new cousin. A baby girl named Aviva. She should get her name on a note in the Wall. There is also family to visit and a beer fest/concert in German Colony. (It's either that or finding a pub and downing a few [too many] Gin and Tonics.)
Getting there and back will have me using the Israeli bus system, which is infinitely more complicated than the rail system. I could use the soldiers hostel in Jerusalem. I stayed there two years ago, but I really want someplace air conditioned. One of my bunkmates knows a couple hostels but he will likely be staying with some of his more religious friends. I'll probably be meeting some fiends on Saturday, but if that falls through I'll spend the day at the Israel Museum. It's air conditioned and recently remodeled. I can easily spend the day there. I think this is one of the times I am most anxious about. The idea that I can get around the city to build confidence-”Been there, done that.” I just don't want to do it alone. I really hate feeling like an outsider and I'm hoping that I'll be able to fall in with some good people. Or at least fall in with some fun ones.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Chapter 7: The infamous dinner
This trip is kind of hard to write about. My detail oriented mind wants to record every nuance and sensation, but there are simply too many and I have too little time to record them all.
Last night was spent bouncing around the back of Ron's Jeep on a kind of “Police Activity.” It is a civilian police auxiliary which apparently has search and arrest powers. There were a couple traffic stops, some foot work checking people's ID and a lot of bouncing around on rough dirt tracks looking for people doing things they did not want to be seen doing. To be honest, I'm not sure what to think about the whole thing. While Ron is pretty professional about it, some aspects- like a bunch of tough looking guys in civilian clothes riding around in a police van seemed to have more in common with a vigilante group than a semi-pro official law enforcement group.
I'm kind of glad the night was quiet. If things had started happening I really don't think I'd have been any help except as a distraction. Either I under value my physical abilities, or other people over value them. Probably a bit of both, but lacking any significant training, I think it's safe to say that I should not do this again. And, if I do, I should fix it so the sunburned part of my back is not constantly rubbing against the seat.
Yesterday's main event was supposed to be 90 minutes of quality time on the shooting range with a Tavor assault rifle, Glilon (Galil SAR) rifle, and an Uzi. That got cut significantly by a bunch of customers at Ron's shop. It was further cut when the secretary with the keys to the walk in gun locker (I want one.) decided to leave an hour early meaning we had to hurry to return the weapons.
I got two mags though the Uzi which was fun to shoot, even though I had to keep it in semi. Predictably, the recoil was very gentle, I just wish I could have done a little rock and roll. The Glilon also had nice handling. I only got one magazine though that one. I made a nice grouping (By my standards) but it was a bit low. I think I needed a little coaching on the sights and my stance. The Tavor was a surprise. Again, I was shooting low and considering I was using an optic it's definitely an issue of stance and shooting competence. Ron told me I was flinching a bit. The recoil from the Tavor surprised me, it did not knock me in the shoulder, but it was hard to keep on target. Probably due to it's lightness and bullpup design. I could really have benefited from a vertical grip to control the muzzle better. Or just some of the training which I would have gotten with more time. With luck, there will be another chance at the range.
I also got a chance with each of Ron's pistols, a Glock 17 and a Bul M5. I did OK by my standards with the Glock, I needed some coaching on my trigger squeeze as my rounds kept going to the left or right of the steel poppers. I did much better with the Bul. (An Israeli made pistol which looks like a Colt 1911 but is chambered in either 9mm or .40 caliber.) I was able to go four for four with the poppers. Four rounds, four targets, and the rest of the magazine to empty into the cardboard cutouts.
Tonight will be the infamous Shabbat Dinner. Enough food for an army, and all of it...*droooooooool*
Last night was spent bouncing around the back of Ron's Jeep on a kind of “Police Activity.” It is a civilian police auxiliary which apparently has search and arrest powers. There were a couple traffic stops, some foot work checking people's ID and a lot of bouncing around on rough dirt tracks looking for people doing things they did not want to be seen doing. To be honest, I'm not sure what to think about the whole thing. While Ron is pretty professional about it, some aspects- like a bunch of tough looking guys in civilian clothes riding around in a police van seemed to have more in common with a vigilante group than a semi-pro official law enforcement group.
I'm kind of glad the night was quiet. If things had started happening I really don't think I'd have been any help except as a distraction. Either I under value my physical abilities, or other people over value them. Probably a bit of both, but lacking any significant training, I think it's safe to say that I should not do this again. And, if I do, I should fix it so the sunburned part of my back is not constantly rubbing against the seat.
Yesterday's main event was supposed to be 90 minutes of quality time on the shooting range with a Tavor assault rifle, Glilon (Galil SAR) rifle, and an Uzi. That got cut significantly by a bunch of customers at Ron's shop. It was further cut when the secretary with the keys to the walk in gun locker (I want one.) decided to leave an hour early meaning we had to hurry to return the weapons.
I got two mags though the Uzi which was fun to shoot, even though I had to keep it in semi. Predictably, the recoil was very gentle, I just wish I could have done a little rock and roll. The Glilon also had nice handling. I only got one magazine though that one. I made a nice grouping (By my standards) but it was a bit low. I think I needed a little coaching on the sights and my stance. The Tavor was a surprise. Again, I was shooting low and considering I was using an optic it's definitely an issue of stance and shooting competence. Ron told me I was flinching a bit. The recoil from the Tavor surprised me, it did not knock me in the shoulder, but it was hard to keep on target. Probably due to it's lightness and bullpup design. I could really have benefited from a vertical grip to control the muzzle better. Or just some of the training which I would have gotten with more time. With luck, there will be another chance at the range.
I also got a chance with each of Ron's pistols, a Glock 17 and a Bul M5. I did OK by my standards with the Glock, I needed some coaching on my trigger squeeze as my rounds kept going to the left or right of the steel poppers. I did much better with the Bul. (An Israeli made pistol which looks like a Colt 1911 but is chambered in either 9mm or .40 caliber.) I was able to go four for four with the poppers. Four rounds, four targets, and the rest of the magazine to empty into the cardboard cutouts.
Tonight will be the infamous Shabbat Dinner. Enough food for an army, and all of it...*droooooooool*
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Heeeeere we go
To fall back on the old cliche, the last few days have been a blur.
The flight was smooth, but uncomfortable. Delta Airlines purchased NWA recently and, judging from the NWA nameplates on the service carts, this was one of the birds that came with the deal. The interior was somewhat antiquated with vinyl seats and now integrated entertainment system. Sure, there were movies, but none matched the in flight catalog. With luck I'll get a better bird for the flight home.
As soon as I met Ron and we left the airport I realized once again I am through the looking glass. This is a place where balagan (clusterfrak) is used in polite conversation as a description of the normal way things can be. A place where it is sometimes difficult to tell from a distance if a building is being put up or knocked down, and a place where a civilian carrying a pistol is almost the only one who can walk into a shopping mall without getting searched.
I'll go a little bit into the activities. I've spent a few hours now in Ron's airsoft shop. It is a converted CONEX container at a large shooting range. The walls are finished, there is a water hook up and most importantly, an air conditioner. The peg wall is a bit sparse and includes mostly King Arms rifles, and a number of pistols of a few makes and models.There are shelves of magazines and another wall of tactical gear, nearly all of it Israeli made.
Today the main activity was fishing in the Kinneret. (Gallilee) We exclusively used spoons and had decent luck. I landed two keepers, but I have no idea what kind they were. I lost count of how many times the lures were hooked on the rocky bottom. When that happened, one of us would wade out to where the lure was and give it a tug in the opposite direction to dislodge it. I had the fun of trying that with my own line only to rapidly find myself doing some extreme multitasking by way of keeping my [borrowed] rod and my head above water while treading water one handed, dislodging the lure and reeling it in without hooking myself in the process. I managed that at least three times.
With the exception of being up since about 3AM to go fishing, my sleep schedule has largely stabilized into what would pass for a normal, day walking schedule. Hell, I even managed to do a little work on behalf of my real job. However, when I get home I have a feeling that my 28 year streak of not being a regular coffee drinker/addict will be over.
More will be written as I think of it and as I get a chance. I'm having a hard time finding the words. I think I'm feeling a certain sense of normalcy- which doesn't make a whole lot of sense what with being so far from home, not speaking much of the local language, etc. Perhaps it is the compliment I get every time an Israeli starts asking me something in Hebrew not thinking for a minute (Until I open my mouth.) that I'm an American.
Apparently my food tolerance is not quite up to spec.
Last night was a family mangal, the Israeli version of barbecue. Yellow curry chicken breast, some other marinated chicken, lamb, chicken wings, pita toasted on the grill with either a paprika or pesto based spice along with the usual selection of salads, humus and tahini all washed down with a Carlsberg. I got razzed a bit for not cleaning my plate but considering everyone else got to pick and choose what they had and I had a massive pile of some of everything given to me, I think that I did all right. Besides, I protested, “I took extra wings!”
Ron's father can not eat them so someone had to make sure they were enjoyed. Oh boy were they ever enjoyed.
Now's as good a time as any to revisit my pre flight nerves. I still don't know where they came from. I still don't know how they were able to so quickly disappear once I looked out of the 747 and saw I was feet dry over Tel Aviv. It could be one of my ongoing emotional issues, the one where my mind says, “You're here now, time to get this done and think about it later.” I really hope not. Because that's a stress response and the closest to real stress I've gotten since I've been here was the previously mentioned aquatic multitasking while fishing yesterday. Hell, the sunburn I got doesn't even hurt that bad.
Well, time for a shit and a shave- not much point in a shower right now, I'll be outside most of the day sweating my nuts off. Today's going to be a long day- but a good one. One in a long series I think.
The flight was smooth, but uncomfortable. Delta Airlines purchased NWA recently and, judging from the NWA nameplates on the service carts, this was one of the birds that came with the deal. The interior was somewhat antiquated with vinyl seats and now integrated entertainment system. Sure, there were movies, but none matched the in flight catalog. With luck I'll get a better bird for the flight home.
As soon as I met Ron and we left the airport I realized once again I am through the looking glass. This is a place where balagan (clusterfrak) is used in polite conversation as a description of the normal way things can be. A place where it is sometimes difficult to tell from a distance if a building is being put up or knocked down, and a place where a civilian carrying a pistol is almost the only one who can walk into a shopping mall without getting searched.
I'll go a little bit into the activities. I've spent a few hours now in Ron's airsoft shop. It is a converted CONEX container at a large shooting range. The walls are finished, there is a water hook up and most importantly, an air conditioner. The peg wall is a bit sparse and includes mostly King Arms rifles, and a number of pistols of a few makes and models.There are shelves of magazines and another wall of tactical gear, nearly all of it Israeli made.
Today the main activity was fishing in the Kinneret. (Gallilee) We exclusively used spoons and had decent luck. I landed two keepers, but I have no idea what kind they were. I lost count of how many times the lures were hooked on the rocky bottom. When that happened, one of us would wade out to where the lure was and give it a tug in the opposite direction to dislodge it. I had the fun of trying that with my own line only to rapidly find myself doing some extreme multitasking by way of keeping my [borrowed] rod and my head above water while treading water one handed, dislodging the lure and reeling it in without hooking myself in the process. I managed that at least three times.
With the exception of being up since about 3AM to go fishing, my sleep schedule has largely stabilized into what would pass for a normal, day walking schedule. Hell, I even managed to do a little work on behalf of my real job. However, when I get home I have a feeling that my 28 year streak of not being a regular coffee drinker/addict will be over.
More will be written as I think of it and as I get a chance. I'm having a hard time finding the words. I think I'm feeling a certain sense of normalcy- which doesn't make a whole lot of sense what with being so far from home, not speaking much of the local language, etc. Perhaps it is the compliment I get every time an Israeli starts asking me something in Hebrew not thinking for a minute (Until I open my mouth.) that I'm an American.
Apparently my food tolerance is not quite up to spec.
Last night was a family mangal, the Israeli version of barbecue. Yellow curry chicken breast, some other marinated chicken, lamb, chicken wings, pita toasted on the grill with either a paprika or pesto based spice along with the usual selection of salads, humus and tahini all washed down with a Carlsberg. I got razzed a bit for not cleaning my plate but considering everyone else got to pick and choose what they had and I had a massive pile of some of everything given to me, I think that I did all right. Besides, I protested, “I took extra wings!”
Ron's father can not eat them so someone had to make sure they were enjoyed. Oh boy were they ever enjoyed.
Now's as good a time as any to revisit my pre flight nerves. I still don't know where they came from. I still don't know how they were able to so quickly disappear once I looked out of the 747 and saw I was feet dry over Tel Aviv. It could be one of my ongoing emotional issues, the one where my mind says, “You're here now, time to get this done and think about it later.” I really hope not. Because that's a stress response and the closest to real stress I've gotten since I've been here was the previously mentioned aquatic multitasking while fishing yesterday. Hell, the sunburn I got doesn't even hurt that bad.
Well, time for a shit and a shave- not much point in a shower right now, I'll be outside most of the day sweating my nuts off. Today's going to be a long day- but a good one. One in a long series I think.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
The fer is now largely gone, replaced by a mass of nervous energy. A few hours sleep punctuated by waking every couple hours to re-arrange the insides of my luggage. There is now a pile on my chair of things I wanted to bring but could not find space for, or removed to save weight.
It is not as if I will be trekking all over the place with my huge rolling duffel. That will stay behind as I move on with a backpack loaded with just the essentials. But it does have things I need in it.
The decision to bring my digital SLR along has taken most of the space in my carry on. I decided early in the process that I couldn't be there for this long and not take it. The point and shoot photos from the last time were pretty good, but my inner photographer wouldn't let it go if I did not go up properly armed to the Holy Land.
There is also the supply of airsoft parts I am bringing my friends. Gerber and Leatherman, multi-tools-- one a request from a friend, the other to give to one of the soldiers I find myself working with. My sense of history perked up as I packed all of that. It reminded me of all the weird things they had to do in '48 to get real military equipment past the various international embargoes. While this isn't nearly comparable, we are trying to circumvent some taxes- which like sheshbesh, is something of an Israeli pastime.
I do have about the same amount of clothes as the last time. Light on outerwear, heavy on underwear. There are a couple exceptions. I had to bring a set of more formal clothes for the holidays. My poorer appearance might be excusable due to my living out of a suitcase, but I'm not going to show up on Rosh Hashanna looking like a schleper.
It is not as if I will be trekking all over the place with my huge rolling duffel. That will stay behind as I move on with a backpack loaded with just the essentials. But it does have things I need in it.
The decision to bring my digital SLR along has taken most of the space in my carry on. I decided early in the process that I couldn't be there for this long and not take it. The point and shoot photos from the last time were pretty good, but my inner photographer wouldn't let it go if I did not go up properly armed to the Holy Land.
There is also the supply of airsoft parts I am bringing my friends. Gerber and Leatherman, multi-tools-- one a request from a friend, the other to give to one of the soldiers I find myself working with. My sense of history perked up as I packed all of that. It reminded me of all the weird things they had to do in '48 to get real military equipment past the various international embargoes. While this isn't nearly comparable, we are trying to circumvent some taxes- which like sheshbesh, is something of an Israeli pastime.
I do have about the same amount of clothes as the last time. Light on outerwear, heavy on underwear. There are a couple exceptions. I had to bring a set of more formal clothes for the holidays. My poorer appearance might be excusable due to my living out of a suitcase, but I'm not going to show up on Rosh Hashanna looking like a schleper.
The mind killer
I can't explain why, but right now I'm more scared than I can ever remember. I'm going back to Israel again. I'm doing another volunteer gig. Just for longer. In fact, this length of time was the plan two years ago. So why does it scare me?
Is it because now I have expectations? Two years ago everything and everyone was a largely unknown quantity. Or more importantly to me- I was an unknown quantity to them. The idea of living in someone else who's not family's home for over a week is just- well, it's pretty much unheard of for me.
It's pretty much a given that sequels don't measure up. My first road trip to the Jersey Shore (Way before MTV had ever heard of "Guidettes.") brought back a new sense of confidence and some really awesome photos. The same trip the next year had me bringing back blisters, a little sunburn and a lot of photos that were just trying too hard to live up to what came before. So maybe I'm just worried that I set the bar a bit too high.
The problem with this fear is that I can't confront something when I don't know where it's coming from. For screwing up on a grand scale- all evidence is to the contrary of that. Maybe it's that I don't know what the endgame is here?
This could be the experience that helps me decide whether or not I want to move there. What then for my family? A job? My friends? The fact that I am an American citizen and the idea of being naturalized somewhere else is a bit of a problem for me with that? I don't know. I've always been the kind of person to think way too far ahead. And now I'm agonizing over what to take, or cut out from my bag which has gotten too full. Sometimes I think that if I ever found true happiness I would stub my toe on purpose just so I had something I could relate better too.
Considering that I'm a middle class, white, American who's already got some stamps on his passport- maybe I'm already doing just that.
Well, until i figure it all out, hang on to your butts because the Gonzo Photographer is going downrange.
Is it because now I have expectations? Two years ago everything and everyone was a largely unknown quantity. Or more importantly to me- I was an unknown quantity to them. The idea of living in someone else who's not family's home for over a week is just- well, it's pretty much unheard of for me.
It's pretty much a given that sequels don't measure up. My first road trip to the Jersey Shore (Way before MTV had ever heard of "Guidettes.") brought back a new sense of confidence and some really awesome photos. The same trip the next year had me bringing back blisters, a little sunburn and a lot of photos that were just trying too hard to live up to what came before. So maybe I'm just worried that I set the bar a bit too high.
The problem with this fear is that I can't confront something when I don't know where it's coming from. For screwing up on a grand scale- all evidence is to the contrary of that. Maybe it's that I don't know what the endgame is here?
This could be the experience that helps me decide whether or not I want to move there. What then for my family? A job? My friends? The fact that I am an American citizen and the idea of being naturalized somewhere else is a bit of a problem for me with that? I don't know. I've always been the kind of person to think way too far ahead. And now I'm agonizing over what to take, or cut out from my bag which has gotten too full. Sometimes I think that if I ever found true happiness I would stub my toe on purpose just so I had something I could relate better too.
Considering that I'm a middle class, white, American who's already got some stamps on his passport- maybe I'm already doing just that.
Well, until i figure it all out, hang on to your butts because the Gonzo Photographer is going downrange.
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