triangle of stability

The sun glows orange every night over the Jerusalem forest, and we stand on the hill and bide our time as it's lowered into the horizon. That has been our moment of peace evenings of this monotonous week of 10 cold-classroom hours daily, learning the signs and symptoms of medical emergencies. I'm almost finished with the 60-hour Magen David Adom course, where I have learned about tension pneumothorax, perfected my ability to take blood pressure and prepare an IV, and learned that the acronym JAP also stands for Jewish Australian princess.

My first night on the town brought me to a smoky trance bar on Rahov Ben Sira where new American olim told me about working in Paramus, NJ, how they've lived here for 17 months without speaking Hebrew, what sadness is a good kind. When men approached, we tried to straddle the line between bourgeosie restraint and honoring fate, depending on the quality of the approach. Jerrin met a mysterious Israeli expat from Hong Kong.

I had my first Sephardic shabbat, in Netivot, where I'll be living later this year. Netivot and S'dot Negev have a partnership with Philadelphia, and there are many beautiful new buildings donated by Philadelphians. My family for the weekend opened Shabbat with an overflowing libation. The kiddush cup needs a plate under it to catch the spillage, like an ancient offering. The evening ended with nibbling sunflower and watermelon seeds on the back patio, drinking Carlsberg, and discussing everything from politics to after-school activities to the pros and cons of Tzachi's lifeguarding job. In the end, myself and Erin, a copatriot from Philadelphia, decided not to go clubbing with our host-brothers in Beersheba, but to sleep early and to shul this morning.

We sat in a curtained balcony and eventually found our place in the chumash, despite the wavering Phrygian melody that made every familiar prayer sound unfamiliar. When the man who was being honored for his new son's birth went up for an aliyah, the women ululated from the balcony and threw candy below onto the men. Later, eight of the young men, all in black pants and white shirts, removed their shoes, stood on the bimah with their prayer shawls over their heads and shoulders and swayed back and forth. Their voices filled the room, and it was beautiful to see all their white-socked feet on the green carpet. There are no intermediaries in synagogues here, yelling the page number or pointing and directing. Everyone acts automatically and freely. It's not a struggle, because they know what to do. Some come and fall asleep, since you don't have to go to shul to be Jewish those who would talk usually stay home. The continuous moment is uninterrupted. And you get out at 10:45, which is much more reasonable.

After services, we dropped in for coffee and house tours at some of the neighbors. They talked over each other, debating what to do with their time, as they've all just retired. We ate homemade cheese, broccoli quiche, and amazing olives and fruit, as usual.

I'm going to study Pre-Hospital Trauma Life Support, and go to sleep. The triangle of stability is 1) backboard 2) headvice 3) neckbrace. Buenas noches.