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.

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*

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 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.

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.

Got beer?

I may be well on my way to being a confirmed drunkard. Not an alcoholic mind you, just a drunk. Alcoholics go to boring meetings and drink shitty coffee. If I go to boring meetings, I'm on the clock and getting paid while I nap.

It is an observation of mine that people tend to disparage their local brewery. Naturally there are exceptions. Yuengling being a notable one. I have yet to meet anyone from Pennsylvania who is a vocal critic of America's oldest brewery. The Genesee Brewery in my home town of Rochester NY on the other hand tends to be generally crapped on. Admittedly I engaged in a fair amount of that myself without having tried the product.

I still haven't had Genny Lite or Cream Ale because both of those hold zero interest for me. I avoid light beer like I avoid dinner at my mom's house when she's experimenting with new recipes. And Cream Ale- that just sounds like two things which should not be put together. Regular Genny and Genny Bock beer, those are good for the price if not just plain good beer. Genny costs about the same as Pabst Blue Ribbon or Budweiser and beats both- in my highly subjective opinion.

But like most things, this whole topic can be traced to Israel in less than six degrees. My friends there seem to prefer Heineken and Carlsburg to the local Goldstar and Maccabee. Now, I'll agree that Maccabee is over-hyped piss-water. But Goldstar is pretty good and cheaper than the imports. So guess what I would like a fridge stocked with next time I'm there? I hope it will still be 15 Shekels (That's about $3.00) a bottle from the vendors on the Tel Aviv Promenade.

So try your local non-microbrew beer. Unless you live in St. Louis or Golden Colorado, odds are it's better than you think.

What dreams may- HOLY SH- WTF WAS THAT?!!!

I don't know how it is for you, but I tend to go through dry spells when it comes to dreams. Not the dreams of world domination, I mean you standard REM sleep dreams. The ones that you have to decide whether or not you should tell anyone about because it may let out far more info than you want.

Anyway, with me it seems like weeks go by without any dreams I can actually remember. But in the past few days it's been one after another. The most memorable one made me wake up with a big grin on my face. (No it did not involve a Felicia Day- Natalie Portman threesome.)

It started out with me laughing at a news article I was reading. In my dream it seemed that 80 or so neo Nazis had busted out of prison, gotten themselves SS uniforms and WWII vintage German weapons. And then ran smack into a detachment from the contemporary Bundeswehr who, like most Germans nowadays really don't like that Nazi shit. The results were pretty predictable which is why I was laughing. There's nothing quite like the surrealist dream image of Nazis being told by modern Germans to shut the fuck up. With bullets.

The fun part about dream you can remember is trying to figure out just where the imagery came from. With this one it's pretty easy. I was helping a friend of the family who was making a very low budget indie film set during the Holocaust. Specifically, since I have a longstanding interest in militaria and this time period I mostly ended up helping her procure and set up a uniform for the film's antagonist.

I guess dreams are kind of like a pressure valve. There when you need relief, but otherwise not particularly memorable.

This post doesn't seem to make much sense, but having not posted anything since July, I just needed to get soemthing up here to get back into it.