honeymoon over

The pace is picking up. The 15 and 16 year olds we're working with at a local school are so warm, receptive and engaging, after a 3-hour workshop with them this afternoon, I feel like I'm in love. We gave them the lyrics to Black Eyed Peas' "Where is the Love?" and discussed diversity and politics in Israel, to help them with their facility in English and leadership. We talked about the American vs. Israeli attitudes toward terrorism, college-entrance tests, and Israeli films. Jenya, the Russian-born competitive weight-lifter and aspiring doctor in my group made a striking comment. "Yeah, it's interesting that Israelis are happier." I was talking about my perspective on the Northeast US, about the fast pace of life and the high rate of psychological diseases especially among the well-off. He said that was true in Europe as well, but not here. "You wouldn't think so because more people are killed in violence here [well not true, but definitely more publicized] but Israelis are happy people." That was a paraphrase, but it struck me because I thought that was only my perception, as someone who is only starting to replace romanticized notions of Israel with a reality check. So maybe it really is true.

Then again, this weekend we saw the sadness in the kibbutznik's eyes. Long-Eyelashed Nellie and Quiet Vegan Alyssa and I took an early bus going south to Eilat, and got off in the middle of an expansive gold-sanded desert on the side of the road. The Kibbutznik with the Sad Eyes promptly picked us up and brought us to Kibbutz Lotan. It was established in 1983 by Anglo and Israeli Reform Jews, and, I believe, was the last kibbutz to be founded. Everything is still owned in common, and their mission has evolved to be an ecological one. They are sustained by an dairy and a date farm, and they do environmental education around recycling, straw bale building and bird migration. They also have a holistic health treatment center, and a waitsu practitioner (one of 150 in the world, if I remember correctly; waitsu is a shiatsu treatment in water). They are using their graywater to make constructed wetlands to replace bird habitat that's been destroyed as Eilat has been developed for tourism. They only have 55 adult members (on a kibbutz you have to apply for membership; even if you grew up on the kibbutz you usually apply for membership after your army service) and are looking to expand. As for the beautiful Kabbalat Shabbat service we attended, let's just say that everyone speaks Hebrew and everyone knows you're Jewish, so if you actually make it to services, chances are you're not their to stumble and divide 50-50 between prayer and chatting. We stargazed with college drop-outs from New York and Oregon, and debated territorial concessions with an Israeli ex-pat doing anti-corporate activism in Oxford.

On Israeli Politics education day I learned that Aleh Yarok, the legalize marijuana party got 1.0% of the vote in the last election, while the Green Party got .4%. I was livid. Otherwise, we jostled with the idea of coalition-building between the ever-proliferating religious parties and the staunch secular parties, and did a text study on Ahab, Jezebel and kosher kingship. Behind the Menachim Begin center we toured an ancient burial site and learned about the meaning of "gathering up the bones of his fathers" as it says of funerals in the Torah. Bodies of the deceased were stacked in a cave outside the city until they decomposed, and when they did, the bones of a particular family were gathered together, along with all the possessions that they would need to enjoy themselves in The Pink World (as my MDA instructor called Olam Ha-baah). We lay in the indentations carved out by the bodies and took photos. Photos which are forthcoming since I can't seem to hold on to possessions for too long.

Last night was my first night on the town in Beersheva, and I can tell you with confidence that we showed those Israelis a thing or two. They sat laughing at us on the dance floor, in total disbelief. Then when they realized we had full comprehension of how ridiculous we looked, they came out and joined us. I think that may have been the only conga line Interpool has ever seen. Happy Birthday Josh!

My emotional landscape has likened itself to Eretz Yisrael over the past week. The north is filled with planted cedars, the source of all the country's drinking water, and the center of commerce. The heart is an ancient desert, with the finest sand I've ever hiked and the most unexpected oases and covered plots. The borders are tight and, like my carefully-selected clothing, grown tighter. The nights are growing colder and, with that, my dreams more vivid. My friends are beginning to show their crepuscular colors, normally undercover, and hence the post's title, "honeymoon over." Plans seems to be slowing and condensing as Rosh Hashana approaches. I don't know what that really means, but that's all I can muster for now.