By Garrett Krivicich, current WUJS participant

When talking to my friends back in the States, I am always delighted to hear the questions that they have about Tel Aviv. Usually, the question has the following framework: “Do they have __________ in Tel Aviv?!?” Yes, if i had a shekel for every time I was asked this question, I would have a lot of shekels. When converted to dollars, though, that’s not much, so I may have just disproved my point.

Regardless, people love to know how Tel Aviv life compares to the States, and usually, they are surprised to hear how similar it is. We do have supermarkets and gyms here. We even have wifi. Yes, before I came, someone pondered if I would have access to wifi, or if internet usage would be limited. The good news is, while the wifi does feel a bit slower than what I’m use to, we still have it. And it works. So far, the only thing I couldn’t find here that we had in the states was Netflix, but even that you can access if you use a proxy.

Tel Aviv has it all. But I will tell you, the mentality and the way people act is very different. Things are just more chill. No one takes their job too seriously. I got this vibe by simply going to get a haircut.

Yes, it had been nearly two months since getting my haircut so I felt it was about that time. I was definitely nervous. While Israelis mostly speak English, there’s still that language barrier, and I did not want a stylist to think I said “cut it all off” as opposed to “cut a little off.” That would be horrible.

There are so many salons in Florentin, the neighborhood that I live in, so I had to choose. I found one five minutes down the road from where I lived, saw there was no wait, and went for it. A young guy stood outside the doorway, drinking a diet coke, eager to cut my hair. He immediately welcomed me, told me to sit so he could shampoo me, and offered me a drink. I said “lo toda” which translates to “no thank you,” so in return, he handed me a whiskey and coke. Yes, the hairdresser served me liquor and it wasn’t even noon yet.

The experience was very relaxed though. He asked me where I was from, I attempted to answer in Hebrew, and all went well. When I said Miami, his eyes lit up, and he talked about how he will come and stay where I live. Why wait to be invited when you can simply invite yourself? He also talked about how he owned this salon and particularly put it in Florentin because he loves the neighborhood. He lives in another city called Holon, a city that nearly everyone I have met on this trip seems to live, which is on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. Supposedly, it’s pretty boring, so he said if he can’t live in Florentin, might as well open a salon there. I agreed with his logic as he buzzed my hair off.

In the middle of the haircut, he received a call on his cell phone, but instead of stopping, he just answered his phone and continued the haircut. This was a trend I noticed. In many businesses around here, when people get a phone call, they just take it. It’s amusing actually, but not as amusing when you are getting your hair cut off of your head. Usually, with that, you like to have the person’s focus.

Even so, the haircut was a success. I wanted to go a little shorter actually, but he refused to cut off anymore because he loved my hair, and said it would be too short. He shampooed me another time, while trying to tell me a story about Romania and gambling. I still have no idea what he was trying to tell me, but laughed anyway, and in the end, the haircut only cost 50 NIS, which is like 13 dollars.

No matter the experience, everything in Tel Aviv is so much more laid back. Even my first yoga class, which was instructed in only Hebrew, felt more laid back than usual. For the most part, I had no idea what was being said, but I just followed the moves of people around me, and somehow got through it. And let me tell you, completing anything in a language you barely know feels like winning a triathlon.

This laid back lifestyle is something I can really get use to. As someone who is naturally anxious, to be surrounded by people who just don’t care as much is refreshing. And it’s also somewhat surprising. Think about the challenges Israelis face. They are surrounded by hostile neighbors, who for the most part, wish for their demise. They literally just came out of a war last summer. But living here, you could never tell. It’s just that Tel Aviv mentality, and I’ll tell you something, it’s pretty contagious.

By Year Course chanicha, Golda Adler

When we think of the holiest place in Israel our minds immediately shift to the Kotel, Tzfat, even Masada, but no one ever mentions Hatzer Kinneret- the place where the dream of settling the land of Israel became real life. Hatzer Kinneret, located in the north, was the home of the families and pioneers that came over in the Second Aliyah. Most of these families came over in hope of escaping the Kishner pogroms and in hope that Israel would be the nation state for the Jewish people. However, this wave of Aliyah planned on doing things a little differently than the First Aliyah. The families and pioneers that settled the Hatzer Kinneret looked up to A.D Gordon, who many call the “father of Labor Zionism”. Gordon encouraged the people to work the land themselves and make this a lifestyle. The community placed great emphasis on the beauty of the land, farming, and women in the work force; it was a new ideal that is still carried out today in Israel, but now is known as Kibbutzim. The families that lived in Hatzer Kinneret became so attached to the Kinneret, that they built the kinneret cemetery not to far from the courtyard. Here, many members of the Labor Zionism movement have been buried, among them Berl Katznelson, Moses Hess and Rachel Bluwstein. While up north, we took advantage of the beautiful sites and hiked and learned about the history of Har Arbel. Being up north and being in the very spot where the Labor Zionist movement began, made me realize the importance of the Second Aliyah and the lessons they practiced and instilled. A.D Grodon, the father of Labor Zionism, emphasized the practice of a person working the land with their OWN hands and praising the beauty of it, rather than hiring others to do it for you. He showed the pioneers that this practice not only built a community, but also allowed the Second Aliyah to find meaning and connection to the land, unlike the First Aliyah, which had others work the land for them. I got a taste of this beauty and appreciation for the land when we hiked Har Arbel. I got to overlook part of the north and climb down a rock wall and saw green as far as my eye could see. Visiting the Hatzer Kinneret and then going on a hike really allowed me to visualize why A.D Gordon and the Second Wave appreciated the land they had settled. While A.D Gordon and the Second Aliyah may have cultivated and given us the modern practice of kibbutzim, I feel that because it may not be so accessible for us Year Courses to harvest, or grow our own food, we can most certainly show our appreciation and expand our knowledge by going on more tours and hikes of mountains or kibbutzim. We should not only focus on the buildings and museums, but also explore and embody the beauty of Israel that inspired the Second Aliyah and spread this message with others.

By current Year Course participant, Eden Harir

So much has happened so fast.

I’m overwhelmed by the abundance of people,

Not by their numbers,

But by their warm genuine souls.

The tiny African children,

Who yell as we walk past, 

Muzungoo! Muzungoo!

Crowd all around us, grabbing our hands,

Smiling so proudly, 

Just because of our presence.

The Agahozo children,

Welcome us kindly

Eager to learn all about us,

And take care of all our needs.

They are so ambitious,

Yearning to learn,

Willing to work hard,

And upholding responsibility.

They understand the importance of loving yourself,

Confident in their bodies,

And comfortable with their peers.

Their affection is unconditional,

And spreads to all those they interact with.

Their dreams stretch far and wide.

They hold so much hope and optimism,

Guided by their aspiration

To make this world a better place.

Their beautiful rich voices,

Lost in a sea of song,

Ringing and bouncing of the hills,

Purify the fruitful land

That once shed blood and war.

They live each day with very little,

Remembering that some people have less.

Thankful for every grain of rice they consume,

And humble with their possessions. 

They remain loyal to their culture,

Submerged in song and dance.

Talent flowing out of them,

And connecting them to their past.

They are each other’s support system,

Casually reciting inspirational quotes.

Treating Agahozo as their home,

And each other as brothers and sisters.

Despite their difficult backgrounds,

They are among the happiest of people.

Their spirit so uplifting,

And energy that emulates warmth.

Their passion is endless,

More honest and virtuous than anyone I know.

I can see the bright road ahead of them,

Guiding them to their immaculate futures.

Everyday I wonder more and more,

Why am I here?

They have everything they need right here.

And are clearly thriving off the opportunities they’ve been given.

What values can I possibly offer,

That they don’t already embrace?

These kids are brighter, happier, smarter

Than I will ever be.

And I am utterly overwhelmed.

They’ve taught me many things,

Through who they are.

I have no right to complain.

No right to be lazy.

No right to have spite.

And no reason to feel sorry for myself.

I came here thinking,

I could help them to succeed.

But instead they’ve helped me.

Their existence will remind me,

Everyday of my life,

Of the type of person I wish to be.

By Year Course participant, Hannah Solomon

After two tiring plane rides, and a five hour layover in Ethiopia, our group finally landed in Rwanda. We were all exhausted, but ready to dive headfirst into the three weeks that lay ahead. Stepping out of the airport, we were immediately greeted by the overwhelmingly beautiful scene of the green landscape filling Rwanda. It was extremely refreshing compared to the arid Middle Eastern climate we were all used to, but the blaring heat was just as bad. A small day trip through Kigali opened our eyes up to a completely new and exciting culture (we sampled a “Rwandan Chipotle”). The streets are busy, and buildings fill the skyline, showing glimpses of the rolling hills just beyond the horizon. Kigali bustles with a strong variety of people. Motorbike taxis zoom past, children walk to and from school pushing through the groups of adults, and some women carry themselves tall, while balancing belongings on their heads. Even the local shopping center was packed with souvenirs special to Rwandan culture. We all piled into our minibus, and settled in for the hour long journey to the Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village. As we drove, the scenery gradually changed from metropolitan men and women in their city, to children walking along the dirt road, with large mountain cliffs showcasing the countryside. Small clay houses stood at the ends of dirt paths, with families waving to us muzungus. We arrived at the village on Monday afternoon, and were warmly greeted by many smiling faces, handshakes and conversation.
The overwhelming day past quickly, and on Tuesday we were thrown right into volunteering, following a 6AM breakfast consisting of maize porridge, Rwandan tea, and one sweet roll. The 11 of us joined the Senior-4 class for their tikkun olam project, taking place in the neighboring village of Rubona. We left the village and walked along a dirt road, not really knowing what to expect. The kids walked in one large group, together in a general mix of excitement. I began a conversation with a few kids, and they told me what “tikkun olam” truly was. They educated me as if I had never heard of the Hebrew phrase before, and were so passionate about every word. These kids are filled with positive attitude, intelligence, and motivation aimed towards themselves and the world that is so strong and unique. I learned about how, in order to achieve tikkun olam, you must first do tikkun ha’alev. Repairing and mending your broken heart is the first step to repairing the world. I was very inspired by their words, but was still not entirely sure what we were doing…
We arrived to a small mud house, and walked far behind it, down a hill to a small clearing. The kids started overturning the dirt and laughing at each other in Kinyarwandan. They brought down jerry-cans full of water and poured it onto the dirt. Five barefoot girls sprung up and began stomping on the water, making mud. Wanting to get in on the action, we all quickly unlaced our shoes and took off our socks, diving feet-first into the mud piles. After making all that mud, we saw the boys and girls taking chunks of mud back up to the house. I
grabbed a pile of mud and made my way to the top of the hill, following in step with our bare and muddy feet. I walked into a scene filled with goats, chickens, and the kids throwing mud at the walls of this house! The project was re-surfacing this small house with a new layer. An assembly line began to form, and I took my position by the house, throwing small chunks of mud against the house, and smoothing it out. We all joined together, singing, laughing, dancing and occasionally hitting each other in the face with mud. Mud was splattering everywhere, and I was definitely the target of more than one mud-pie. We worked for an hour, and the progress was visible. Almost the entirety of the house was covered. The owner was a thin old man, sporting a cane, who had been watching us work the whole time. On my way out, I shook his hand and said, “nishimiye kuba menya,” (nice to meet you) showcasing my newly-learned Kinyarwandan skills, which had taken me almost the whole hour of working to learn. Even though it took me so long to learn, the kids never stopped trying to teach me. “Try and fail, but never fail to try” was the motto that almost ten different kids told me that day– on separate occasions. It was so eye-opening to be able to see the kids of the village use their resources to help anyone they can. I’m glad I got to be a part of it.
The tiring walk back to the village, caked in mud at the end of the day was definitely worth it.

By Alisa Itskova, WUJS Fall 2014 Participant

Tel-Aviv, 31 January 2015

A week from now my Masa programme will be over and I will open a new chapter of my life. But as I’m writing these lines, I realize that the understanding of this fact hasn’t quite been processed by the right side of my brain. Ironically it feels like things have just got familiar, but time for a change has already caught up with me. Today I woke up with this confusing sensation of… sadness perhaps? I guess it’s always a little hard to break those habits and routines that we took a while to establish. I will miss those Tuesday tiyuls (trips) together with my WUJS group, our cozy evenings with the girls in Merhaviya apartment when we’d tell each other about our day, our amazingly delicious Shabbat dinners that would tear to pieces any hope of ‘becoming healthier and eating little portions’. I will probably even miss a little things that I’m certainly not fond of now, like waking up at 8 a.m. to the volcano-like sounds of drills downstairs as the municipality of Tel-Aviv is relentlessly working towards improving the quality of asphalt in our beloved Florentin neighbourhood.

Yet I know that this momentary melancholy will pass away. Eventually the fresh wind of change and novelty will blow away these nostalgic impulses like the mighty dark waves of the Mediterranean wipe away a lonely wanderer’s footprints on the sand.

I remember that soon after I came to Israel five months ago, we sat in a circle on the floor with my new WUJS friends and as we dipped apple slices into honey, we talked about what we wanted to wish each other and ourselves in the new year (a beautiful tradition on Rosh Hashanah that I hope I will not forget). Then I wished to become a more accepting and optimistic person, who’s embracing her experiences and looks bravely and with gratitude at the past, present and future, whatever they may hold. And while this is something I’m continuously working on, I’d like to take a moment and look back at my time here in Israel and recall the brightest moments of this beautiful journey.

One of the best things that came my way is definitely The Stage, an English speaking community theatre group in Tel-Aviv. I was introduced to The Stage by Jessica, a former WUJS participant who stayed in Israel after her Masa programme and eventually made Aliyah. At the meeting with Young Judaea alumnus, Jess mentioned that on top of her start-up business and her day job she was also involved in the Production Committee of The Stage and they always welcome new volunteers into the organization. The idea of being a part of an actual theatre group seemed thrilling to me, especially as I was about to intern for a film production company and I was eager to get as much hands on experience as possible. Soon after this lucky encounter I was participating in the Production Committee meeting for an upcoming production (One Act plays) that The Stage was putting on for an Arts Day in Tel-Aviv under the slogan “Art in unexpected places”. I was coming to every single rehearsal and learned a lot about how The Stage operates and organizes itself in order to produce amazing shows. My first role was working with Lighting and as a member of the Front of House team. Soon after that show, our creative Arts Committee came up with a new idea of Miscast!, a musical where all the parts are performed by singers who have been deliberately miscast. I joined the production team as an Assistant Producer and I was involved in every single stage from planning to auditions to rehearsals to the final two days of show, which was a great success. We sold out and received a great deal of positive reviews from the audience. As a result there’s going to be Miscast! “Part 2” in April with new performances and I’m very happy, honoured and excited to be once again a part of the amazing team who will bring this show to life.

On top of this project I’m about to start working on a new original production, a play by an Israeli author Hanoch Levin that we translated to English as well as assisting our Business Development team in importing the infamous musical Rent from Jerusalem to Tel-Aviv (for the first time ever!). None of us is making any money at The Stage, it is a fully non-commercial volunteer-run community project, but I’m extremely proud of dedication and professionalism of our group. It is a wonderful feeling to be a part of it, to see how the efforts of your continuous work bring such great results, to meet talented and inspiring people, to hear how much the audience has enjoyed the show…

Besides the shows, The Stage is also running a number or workshops in acting, singing, musical theatre etc. During the last couple of months in Israel I’ve fulfilled one of my long-forgotten dreams and finally joined the acting workshop. We are about to have our last class soon followed by a final performance showcasing the skills we learned during these amazing eight weeks. It’s OK that I won’t be getting an Oscar any time soon, but I’ve definitely had tons of fun, made new friends and I feel like I’ve become much more confident when it comes to speaking in public.

There was also another great thing that happened to me here in Tel-Aviv. Exactly one month after I had landed in the Holy Land I found myself sitting at the table with some amazingly talented and inspiring women discussing contemporary issues that female leaders have to face in their everyday professional and personal lives. The organization or rather the community that’s organizing these meetings is called Lean In Circles. In a nutshell these are small groups for women that gather once a month “to encourage and support each other in an atmosphere of confidentiality and trust”. The goal of these circles is to empower women by providing them with tools and know-how to achieve their goals through “an open exchange of ideas and information”. Sometimes our organizers host a successful female guest speaker to lead a round table, other times we simply share some personal stories with each other on a given topic. Through these short narratives of moments in life we “lean in” or “lean back”, supporting and inspiring each other to achieve bigger and bolder goals. After every such meeting I find myself truly empowered, no matter what is happening in my life at that moment. I come back home with a bright flame of hope in my heart.

I think that feeling of interconnection with people around me is what made me fall in love with this unique country in the first instance. Surely there are plenty of wonderful organizations, movements and communities in other places around the world to feed my mind and soul. But only in Israel I found this amazing feeling of belonging, which is growing stronger and stronger every day. I think we all did. As I discover more interesting initiatives, movements and groups of people, I am always surprised to find out that already a few of my friends from other circles are also a part of it. Whether it’s a political panel discussion, a lecture in a bar, a yoga class or a group hike in the desert I keep meeting familiar faces and it doesn’t stop to amaze me. My local friends joke that Israel is one big village or a kibbutz if you like it. No matter how diverse we all are, what countries we come from, what views we have on political matters, what being Jewish means to each of us, we all feel somehow connected to one another. What unites us even more is that we all want the best for this country. I haven’t made Aliyah yet (although I’m about to), but I already find myself preoccupied with the future of Israel and its people, and even more so now in the view of upcoming elections. I started to feel the continuous urge to follow all the news related to Israel, to understand its social and political intricacies. And despite all the complexities of life here, all the differences in people’s backgrounds and their stances, I am deeply fond of the warmness that so many Israelis have for one another. I mean in what other country you get invited for a cup of tea when you buy your camping gear or receive hugs and high fives from your boss? I also admire Israelis’ reverent relationship to their land, nature and environment, their universal love for good and healthy food, their true care for one another in times of hardship and even their amusing need to always tell you that they are going to pee now (yes, you can definitely add this point to the list of common Israeli features).

As expected, I’ve also fallen in love with Tel-Aviv, and just like Carrie Bradshaw with New York, I am happy to say that I’m enjoying a very unique and fascinating relationship with my city. I love its beautiful beaches and cozy bars, its creative graffiti scenes and green boulevards with colorful arty benches, its dog-friendly… everything really and its countless cats that give the city even more character. I love its randomness, its free spirit and its hidden surprises many of which I am yet to discover. It’s been hell of a ride, full of discoveries and revelations and even though I don’t know what future might hold for me, I’m now embarking on this new journey more inspired than I’ve ever been in my life.

 

 

By Sarah Silverstein, current Yama participant

This past week in Jerusalem, Benjy’s Comparative Religions class explored the contemporary Jewish community. Our class spent the last two sessions learning about the physical presence of Judaism in Jerusalem. This session’s theme was The Bookends of Jewish Jerusalem- from Reform to Haredi. We focused on what led to the creation of the different streams of Judaism. We learned about the Ultra Orthodox (Haredi), Modern Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reconstructionist movements and their communities. We focused mostly on the Reform community and the Haredi community. Both communities have distinctive qualities and different views on how to practice Judaism.

We began our day at the Kol Haneshama Community Synagogue where the Rabbi spoke to us about the Reform Jewish movement. From this discussion the class began to understand that the Reform community aims to find a peaceful combination of religion and modern concepts. I felt this type of outlook was easy to relate to. As a teenager growing up in the 21st century, it is refreshing to see religion evolve along with society.

The group then headed to the Belz Synagogue to learn a bit about the Hasidic Belz community. The Belz Synagogue, the largest synagogue in Israel, was an extremely impressive and beautiful building. With fourteen floors, the shul was capable of accommodating thousands of people in regards to all of the sectors of Jewish life. Rabbi Yeheskel, a Rabbi of the shul gave us a tour of the building and opened up a dialogue with the group. We all asked questions about the Hasidic community and its traditions. As a graduate of a Modern Orthodox Yeshiva, I did not feel extremely phased by what Yeheskel was telling and showing us. While I personally accept modern values and traditional Halacha, I can understand why the Ultra Orthodox community shies away from modernity. Modernity can bring about change and the Haredi community is uninterested in altering their level of commitment to the written Torah and its Halacha. Most of the students found it difficult to understand the Haredi world but felt fascinated to have had the opportunity to learn about it.

Growing up in a Zionist household I was always told that Israel was the Jewish homeland. This siyur gave the Chanichim of Year Course a direct opportunity to see the people that make up the Jewish homeland. While we each practice Judaism in our own way, it is interesting to learn more about the streams of Judaism to see where we as individuals fall on the spectrum.

Lena Elkins is a part of the Young Judaea Marketing Team in Israel. Having recently graduated from the University of Oregon, she made Aliyah in August and now resides in Tel Aviv.

I have now lived in Israel through two wars. I have been minutes away from terrorist attacks and have survived the shared Israeli experience of calling loved ones to make sure they’re safe. This past week’s bus attack in Tel Aviv was no exception- the moment I heard the news it shook me to my core, millions of upsetting thoughts racing through my head. But then I watched as Israelis bravely continued on, celebrating life, and a certain level of sanity was restored. I have accepted that this is the reality of living in this country, and getting through the trauma of these experiences has only made me closer to my new Israeli family, and this new place I call home.

Shortly after making Aliyah, I began working for Young Judaea. I was instantly inspired by the amount of involvement our program participants have in all facets of Israeli society, including volunteering in Magen David Adam (Israeli Red Cross). Knowing that three of our current Year Course MDA participants were at the scene of the Tel Aviv attack last week, medically trained and ready to assist, brought me an immense amount of pride. This is Young Judaea, I thought. This is modern day Zionism at work.

Although I didn’t grow up in Young Judaea myself (I’m from northern California, where Young Judaea isn’t well known), I know dozens of young people who have grown up in YJ summer camps and have gone on to participate in Year Course. This includes my sister, who after graduating from high school attended Year Course not knowing a single person. During those nine months, I watched the gap year transform her life. Year Course supported her in evolving into who she is now: a strong, passionate, educated Zionist who proudly serves as a solder in the Israeli Defense Forces. Although Madi is a very special young woman, her experience is not unique. Year Course has the profound ability to improve the quality of someone’s life, to enhance their future, and present opportunities never thought possible.

From what we see on the news, I understand why American parents fear sending their children here for long term programs. I see it in my own parents, who now have two daughters living in Israel as Israeli citizens, one serving in the IDF. It isn’t easy. But I also see the other side, the side that makes programs like Young Judaea Year Course so essential. If young American Jews don’t understand Israel, how are they expected to love and support it? How can they build a relationship with this country if they’re not here, at least for a short time? This is what I find most beautiful about Year Course: young people given the opportunity to invest in their relationship with Israel. Young people investing in themselves and their Jewish identities by  immersing themselves here. And most importantly, young people feeling they’re making an impact and a part of the Israeli story. To me, as a Zionist, there is nothing more powerful than that.

I don’t regret not going on Year Course as an 18 year old, because my path through college led me to making Aliyah anyway. But there is nothing I can encourage more to high school seniors than to take an opportunity like this. This is your chance to become a part of a story, a future and a vision so much bigger than yourself. This country can become a part of who you are, and that will last a lifetime. Not many 18 year olds can say that.

 

 

By Hannah Southworth, WUJS Participant

The past month has been busy, fantastic, and full of changes. I have been working hard at my new internship. I work at a start up called MobileOCT now and am loving it. I started in women’s health research and now am working on regulatory. I love the people I work with and although it is a lot of work, I am learning a lot. It was difficult to get into a full work load after a more flexible schedule, but I am so glad that I found something that is both rewarding and educational.

The past weeks have included some great trips. We went to Caesarea, which is a beautiful costal town with Roman ruins. The next trip was to Sderot, a town that felt significant damage from the war this summer. We went to the border and were able to see Gaza with the naked eye. It was eery to see the cameras that are set up to detect any rockets, and the obvious border that strictly separates the region from where we were standing. In the town of Sderot we saw rockets that had hit the town. They were lined up behind the police station and reminded us of how much the small town had been through. We also toured a children’s bomb shelter where children went during the work day. It could resist any rockets that hit the structure and served as a play place and a safe zone. It was empty but obvious that life continued within this colorful space regardless of what was happening outside. After Sderot we went to a place called the Salad trail where you learn about agricultural practices in Israel. We ended it with a cooking challenge using everything from their gardens.

The following week I attended a Masa leadership conference. Every Masa program in Israel is invited to apply and around 300 attended. It was a mix of young people from all over the world and I was so glad I went. We stayed in a beautiful location in Jerusalem and attended seminars, heard speeches, and ate free hotel food. I wanted to explore more about what was happening in the international community of young people living in Israel. My favorite seminar by far was a session called “Jewish Illiteracy” and it definitely spoke to me. I grew up with the holidays, food, and learned as much history as possible but since it was not a spiritual upbringing, I have found other ways to recognize my religion. For me, taking opportunities to learn about the religion in other ways while in Israel is a huge gift. I want learn more about how my family lived in the past and how I want to recognize my religion going forward. The session on Jewish Illiteracy focused on the fact that many young Jews in the United States and abroad don’t have the ability to read hebrew, carry on traditions in the home, and interpret their own religion. The session leader talked about how to make religion more approachable. One of the days we got to experience a different location. I went to an Eco Art Village to learn about the Jewish practice of Shmita. Shmita is known as the sabbatical year where farmers let the land rest. It happens in the seventh year of the seven year agricultural cycle. Since less than 2% of Israelis work in agriculture, it is not as common of a practice. We still talked about how Shmita translates to other parts of your life. The eco art village runs educational programs on green building and sustainable water systems. It also is where a dance company called Vertigo practices. We got to build with some mud, practice meditation, have a tour, and do contact improv. I also went into the Old City and saw the tunnels that are under the Western Wall.

The holiday season here was beautiful but definitely missing some of my families traditions. I would love to hear how everyone’s holiday season was!

 

By Alisa Itskova, WUJS participant

So it’s been a little over a month that I find myself in this beautiful country called Israel. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I’m here, that I made it. And it wasn’t an easy decision to make. I knew that I wasn’t going to stay in Moscow, but at first I was considering doing an internship in the USA or going back to England where I had lived for 5 years before. But ever since Israel presented itself to me through Taglit program in January 2013, the idea of coming here would pop in my mind every now and then. However, it wasn’t until May 2014 that I really made up my mind about it. Later on in Tel-Aviv I would meet a man in the synagogue after an evening service on Yom Kippur who would explain to me that my “neshama”, my soul was striving to lead me here.

Why do people choose to do a MASA program? I really think we all have our own reasons and perhaps we don’t even admit some of them to ourselves. For certain people it is a way to test the waters before making aliyah, for some it is a chance to have an amazing time living abroad and doing an internship in the area that they love or always wanted to try. Others want to establish a closer spiritual connection with the land of their ancestors, discover a new side of their identity, and some might desire to deepen their understanding of judaism in a judgement-free supporting environment.

What did I hope to get out of it? Being really frank with you…. I didn’t really know. What I did know was that I needed a drastic change in my life, in my way of thinking and seeing things. I needed to feel that long-forgotten sense of freedom. I wanted to take some control over my life but at the same time to let it all flow naturally in the right direction. I also wanted to get in touch with my artistic side. A few friends of mine who had already completed a MASA program in Israel have all commented on how liberated and inspired the very air here in the Holy Land made them feel.

But there also was a big spiritual and religious search on my ‘agenda’. You see I come from a very culturally diverse family. My mother’s father was Tatar, Muslim. My mother’s mother was Russian, Christian Orthodox. My father’s parents are both Jewish. And so were all their ancestors as far as I could trace. That’s the only self-identity my grandparents ever had, despite the fact that they lacked this giant cultural and religious layer which I thought was a necessary component of a Jewish identity. They were born and raised in the USSR and as it’s known that means without much of any religious background. And yet, as I mentioned already, they always saw themselves as Jewish. I didn’t quite understand it as a kid, but I felt how important this identity was for them.

As far as I remember I was the only one in my family who, from quite a young age, was spiritually curious and I’d even say hungry. I was always searching. I wasn’t brought up as a Jewish or a Christian girl. In fact religion was never a part of my education either at home or at school. But as I was getting older I was feeling the ever growing need to define to myself who I was and what I believed in. It never came easy for me. No one in my family or among my friends seemed to be puzzled with the same questions. I grew to believe that one’s formal religious confession was not of a significant importance, that a person’s inner morals and beliefs accounted for a ton more. And yet some part of me wanted some more clarity in terms of religion for myself. When I travelled around Asia I visited a number of beautiful Buddhist temples. And I tried to pray. In the best way I could, in my own way. I wasn’t addressing my prayers to Buddha, but to the one God that I believe is common for all people, no matter what we call him in different parts of the planet. Back in Moscow I came across many Christian Orthodox people, who were very passionate about their faith and their religion and tried to share with me that “light”. It really seemed like some force out there wanted me to experience all that. And I continued my spiritual and religious quest. I went to a few Christian churches and cathedrals when such an opportunity presented. As a curious person by nature I wanted to see and feel what other people saw and felt when they prayed in their holly places, whatever country I went to visit.

I don’t remember the exact moment when I realized that I wanted to know more about the Jewish part of my family and understand what it meant to me, being half Jewish. Being the daughter of my Jewish farther. Purely technically I was more Jewish than anything else, no matter how absurd this phrase might sound. And every time that I experienced some anti-semitism, be it a stupid comment in a blog or an offensive reference from some person, I felt angry. Sometimes even furious. Not only I’ve always been strongly against any kind of intolerance or racism, but I also felt that it concerned me and my family, my roots. I had a similar strong reaction when I was learning and talking about Holocaust with people. I felt that this tragedy was somehow personal to me. After I had gone on my Birthright trip around Israel, I felt like I had ever more questions about myself. So I decided to put up the sails and go to find some answers.
First Impressions
My journey began on September the 7th, 2014. At first there was a number of strange signs if you believe in those kind of things. I won’t go over it in details, but let’s just say that I nearly missed my flight as I didn’t realize they had changed the gates of departure, then upon arrival I joined what happened to be the longest passport control line where I queued for about an hour compromising my promise to be on time for my first interview later on that day, and on top of that I had to change my luggage trolley in the airport at least 4 times because all of them were stubbornly turning left despite my desperate efforts and kicks to straighten them up. After I finally got to HaHagana train station in the southern Tel-Aviv I discovered that the only available taxi driver was insisting on charging me more than twice the price that Florentine Backpackers’ Hostel staff kindly stated in their email to all guests. And he wouldn’t take credit cards either. It took all my negotiating skills, smiles, then frowns to try and bargain the price down but it wasn’t until I managed to find a couple of Danish tourists to share a taxi ride with that we stroke a reasonable deal. I paid 5 dollars and 15 shekels.

As we were driving around the Florentine neighborhood arguing with the driver whether or not there was a hostel at the address I was given, I was trying to choke the emerging panic inside me. Is that where I was going to live for 5 months?! At the first glance the area looked like ehm… an old neglected industrial site in a third-world country. I could see why the driver refused to believe that there was a youth hostel there. If you are reading this and getting frightened I rush to assure you that Florentine is actually a charming neighborhood with plenty of interesting and charismatic sides to it that I came to love. If you let it, it will keep pleasantly surprising you. Closer to HaHagana station there are indeed some agreeably rather sketchy streets, but that’s quite far from where we are all living now. Little did I know of it all back then on my first day in Tel-Aviv. But as I finally arrived to my destination and stepped over the threshold of the Florentine Backpacker’s Hostel my fears and doubts were swept away in a fraction of a second. Now you should know that I’ve travelled a fair bit in my life already (if I remember it correctly I’ve been to more than 20 countries) and therefore I’ve seen all sorts of hostels before. But Florentine happened to be beyond all my expectations. Before I could even say a word somebody took my more than bulky 32kg suitcase and dragged it energetically to the 3rd floor. The staff at the reception turned out to be the sweetest girls too. They helped me bring the rest of my bags to my room, made me a cup of tea, answered patiently all my questions about how to find this and that in town, promised to wait ’till I get back from my interview to have an individual introduction session with me about Tel-Aviv and didn’t even bother taking the payment from me right away. No rush, explained they. Later on that night another guy working in the hostel took everyone who wanted to a small bar with very affordable prices. This friendliness from everyone in the hostel really amazed me. What more could you want on your first day in a new country?

In the streets of Tel-Aviv
I’m not trying to oversell it, but people in Israel are really generally helpful and friendly. And it’s not just my experience as a girl. If you are ever lost, forgot how to use google maps or just happen to have an amnesia walking around in a familiar place, all you need is to ask. Pretty much anyone. English should be enough 99% of the time. I’m lucky enough to also speak French and Russian but I hardly ever use them. The only times when I struggled a bit was probably with bus drivers. But even if they themselves don’t speak English there’s always gonna be someone among the passengers or even people in the street who will come along and help you. And if you are shy and think that you will bother people asking for directions all the time, you should learn to overcome these feelings based on a wrong assumption. The Israelis love talking and if someone around needs help they feel it’s their duty to give you a hand. Knowing this is something very comforting to me. I never feel like I’m all alone surrounded by strangers in the street even though technically I am.
But it’s not only helping with directions that the Israelis like when it comes to social interaction in the street. As a girl (sorry, have to make this remark here, not quite sure if it’s similar for the boys) I found myself chatted up by random strangers from a very diverse age range all the time. And no, I believe I didn’t display any signs that would encourage it, unless you count an occasional smile at the crazy non-stop car honking around me (also a big hobby in Israel apparently). Once one man just started showing me pictures on his phone from his journeys around the world, after which he grabbed my hand and proceeded to a hand massage explaining that apart from working in a large tourism company he was also employed by a SPA centre somewhere in the north of the country. And we are talking about daytime, in the middle of a busy central street in Tel-Aviv. Being a very open-minded person I was more amused by this experience than anything else.

And since I touched upon the subject of my experience as a woman in TA, let me close that topic by saying that it is indeed quite overwhelming how guys approach the ladies here. Don’t be surprised if they ask for your phone number at the beach if you are chilling there on your own or when you buy a case for your phone in a big shopping centre or even as you are about to cross the road and pointed someone in the right direction. Anywhere, anytime. One gentleman in his seventies came up to chat to me in… the synagogue, as I was watching the service by the entrance. He turned out to be a cinematographer and a photo journalist and a few weeks later we bumped into each other at the Haifa International Film Festival where he introduced me to some influential figures in the Israeli movie industry. Not that it was any help to my career as I’m just an intern making my first humble steps in the moviemaking world, at it was still nice. At the end of the day it’s up to you what to do with these encounters that present themselves to you while you live in Israel. I take them as a great and enriching part of my experience here, but I do make sure that I establish clear boundaries from the beginning.

There was just one thing that puzzled me for a while though. How come they are so daring when it comes to speaking to a girl in the street? Do I appear overly friendly and… approachable? I once discussed it with my male friend here in Israel and he found a possible explanation to such a social phenomenon. He believes it all comes down to the political situation and the army. When you live in a country where a period of peace is always followed by the next military conflict, while the army service is compulsory for everyone, your life philosophy is fairly different from that of people brought up in different circumstances. Not that you take every day as your last, but you certainly hesitate less in relation to pretty much everything. You just go for it. And then it stays true that the Israeli girls are always playing hard to get (and they are hard to get) so foreign girls seem like a less daunting target.

However, I hope that I didn’t put you off trying to experience and explore Israel through the best way in my opinion – talking to its people, in case you happen to be a person who prefers to abstain from this kind of interaction. Believe it or not some people, even if they are a man trying to talk to a young woman, might be genuinely interested in a friendly chat. As I’m writing this a few recent situations pop up in my mind. Just yesterday as I was coming back home from my evening walk and dinner in Tel-Aviv port, I had an interesting encounter. After the sun had set down and marked the beginning of a lovely holiday Simhat Torah, we and my Mum, who was visiting me during Sukkot, caught one the passing minivan-taxis (the type of affordable means of transport available when other public transportation stops working, i.e on Shabbat and other holidays). The driver, a man in his sixties, sipping a big cup of what I assume was tea with milk, commented on how good my English accent was and enquired where I came from. Within a few minutes of our drive I knew that some of his family came originally from Yemen, that he had lived in the USA for a few years and that he was an absolute zionist in all possible meanings of this word, even though I think I am yet to discover some of them. I really embraced his openness and despite my worried mother’s attempts to shut me up (she thought that I was bothering the poor man with my “long tongue”) continued the chat up until it was our stop to get off. As I was saying “goodbye” he said that he wished that I would stay in Israel and have many children here… I found it sweet and even touching. That gentleman didn’t really know much about me other than that I was this girl form Moscow on a MASA program in Israel for the next four months. He also knew that my mother wasn’t Jewish. And yet he wanted me and my future kids to live in the same country as him. 

Under the wing of WUJS
I’d like to conclude this chapter by saying a couple of words about some guys that really do help me feel like home here. The WUJS crew.

Being in a new country in the first few months is without any doubt one of the best experiences you get to have in your life if you ever make this choice. But it can be also a very difficult and stressful time. You don’t know the area, your way around, and even the smallest everyday chores can suddenly become daunting tasks. Where do you buy your groceries (and believe me finding yourself in such an expensive country as Israel you will certainly have this question), what’s a nice place to eat out, what are the cultural norms and expected behaviors here, where do you find those great bars and clubs, how do you deal with possible issues in your apartment, what’s the best way to get from A to B and many many others. And of course you expect that your program organizers will help you out a little with all these questions.

Being here with WUJS made my first couple of weeks in Tel-Aviv literally as nice and relaxed as possible. They really go an extra mile. I can’t speak for everyone but I’ve already lived in two different countries away from home and being there on my own was sometimes very tough during the first few months, so I expected the transition period this time to be also a little difficult. Needless to say I’m very happy my assumptions were wrong. Here we have a great team of people making sure that everything goes smooth for us and that we make the most out of our time on the program. We had more cultural activities, amazing trips and walks with WUJS than any other of my friends did with other MASA organizers. But more importantly these guys really care. Whether it is trying to provide you with information on any topic you might have or hosting those “how was your day” sessions you feel the genuine non-stop support from people who helped you get here. And from what I saw on our activities calendar we will have enough to come to keep even the most restless and demanding souls like me busy and entertained.

By Ariana Jones, WUJS Participant

First tell me a little about yourself…
RR: I was born here in Israel. In fact my family has been here in Jewish Palestine since the 1880s, long before the establishment of the State of Israel. At least in Israeli terms, I’m an indigenous guy. I was trained originally as a journalist. I worked for Israeli Radio for several years. Then I joined a group of journalists to start a new “Daily” in Hebrew, “חדשות” (which means news). I worked there for several years until I decided to enter a doctoral program, here at the university. Then I gave up on my journalist career in favor of an academic career. I wrote my (doctoral) dissertation about the relations between Spain and Argentina during the first decade after the end of WWII. For my research, we went to Spain and spent a year there, and then we went to D.C. to look at archives for several months, and then spent an entire year in Buenos Aires. Unlike myself, my wife was born in Buenos Aires; we met here as undergraduate students at TAU. Once I submitted my dissertation, it was clear to me that I would opt for an academic career. I spent some time abroad. I did a post-doctoral stay at the University of Maryland at College Park. Then I became a professor here at Tel Aviv University. Apart from my academic career as a scholar and historian, I’ve also had several administration positions here at the university. I was vice provost here between 2006 and 2009, and this is my third year as the Vice President of this great institution, Tel Aviv University. This university is the largest and most comprehensive university here in Israel, also the best university in Israel in several aspects. Don’t just take my word for this, the recent international ranking by the Times: Higher Education Supplement has put us as the number one university in Israel. I have two kids; my son is 28 years old. My daughter is 23 years old, like very many Israeli youngsters, she just came back from six months in Nepal, India, and Sri Lanka.

What interested you about the Hispanic communities in Spain and Argentina?
As it usually happens, I was very influenced by one of my professors. As an undergrad student, I had an amazing professor of Spanish history, Shlomo Ben Ami. He later became the Israeli ambassador to Spain, and then became the Israeli foreign minister in the government of Ehud Barak. Shlomo is a brilliant intellectual, very passionate about Spain and Spanish history. I started studying history with him, and was attracted by the interactions of Jews, Muslims, and Christians in Medieval Spain. As a grad student, I focused in the modern history of Spain, especially the 19th and 20th centuries. When I had to choose my doctoral dissertation, I opted for the relations of Spain and Argentina. Originally my research had very little to do with Jews and Jewish history. In each and every visit of mine to Argentina, people kept asking me questions about Jewish immigration to Argentina, about Argentine neutrality during WWII, about the entry of Nazi war criminals to Argentina after the end of the world war, and about ties between Argentina and Israel. So gradually I was drawn to conduct research on a wide variety of Jewish topics in Argentina. In most cases it was social and cultural history instead of political history. My most recent book is devoted to Jews, soccer, and the making of Argentina.

Is there a big Latin American community here in Israel?
There is a relatively large number of emigrants here from Latin America. I sometimes hesitate to call it a community, but we’re talking something about 100,000 Israelis of Latin American origin. Unlike some places [in the U.S. or Europe] it’s cool to be Latin here, Latin music, Latin soccer, Latin telenovelas, Latin food. If people hear you speaking Spanish in the street, they would probably be nicer to you.

Do you work at all with the Latin community here in Israel?
I do collaborate closely with a wide variety of organizations and associations of Latin Americans here in Israel. In most cases we’re talking about Jewish Latin Americans who have relocated to Israel. I have also been in contact over the years with non-Jewish Latin Americans, mostly migrant workers who spent some time in Israel, and were trying to alleviate their situation through their stay here.

Do you know how the transition is here amongst the Jewish Latin emigrants who come here? Is it easier for them to assimilate?
In most cases, we talk about Jewish Latin Americans. It seems that their experience here is better than in other non- Spanish speaking countries. It’s not just that everything Latin is popular here in Israel. It’s also the informalities of both societies [Latin American and Israeli]. There is something in the social interactions here that are similar to the Latin American one. It is often easier for Spanish speakers to pronounce the Hebrew language than English. Unlike immigrants from several countries which are considered underdeveloped. Immigrants from Latin America are categorized in the same group of the U.S. and Western Europe. My impression is that “yes, the experience here is easier than in other non- Spanish speaking countries.”

Switching to the campus, if someone came to Tel Aviv University on a campus tour for the first time, what is something you would tell them to leave a lasting impression?
I would tell them that this is a research oriented university. It’s a liberal campus, categorized by pluralism, tolerance, and open minded attitudes. I think that since it’s located in the city of Tel Aviv, which is the most liberal, pluralist city of Israel, it’s easier to become part of the university community here than in many other places. We have a beautiful campus, with many activities. When you come here it’s not just the academic courses you take, it’s also the wide variety of social cultural offerings. The student union is extremely active. A lot of music events, theatre shows, and it’s a metropolitan university. So you can benefit from all the advantages of this university, and the liveliness of the city. It’s vitality, its nightlife and the like.

What is your favorite place on campus?
I would say either the balcony of the café, which is based here at the Diaspora museum here on campus or the central library. Which now-a-days has very many spaces for discussions and interactions. Not like in the old days where you had to keep silent and you couldn’t bring food inside and the like.

How does this university affect the community?
Apart from the focus on the research and teaching, we strongly believe that Tel Aviv University has a social and cultural role to play here in Israel. It’s no secret that Israeli society is in the midst of a cultural struggle over its core values and its identity. Via a wide variety of activities we try to promote the values of solidarity, tolerance, and pluralism. Thousands of our students and faculty are involved in activities within and without the campus. We have programs that attract thousands of Israeli middle and high school kids. We have problems attracting adult groups. People who are prisoners who weren’t able to finish university, we call it the popular university program. We offer very many lectures and symposiums open to the public. Students here can get scholarships if they sign up for certain social activities in different neighborhoods in Tel Aviv. We strongly believe that we have social responsibility and a social and cultural role to play here in Israeli society.

You’ve done a lot. You’ve written several books, and given countless speeches. Can you tell me what your motivation has been through all of this?
It is the intellectual curiosity first and foremost as well as the need to be a part of a wider intellectual community. The topics I research all have to do with issues of migration, identity, ethnicity, which seem very important and very relevant to life in Israel. It doesn’t matter much if you dedicate your research to one country or one region rather than another, what’s important is the topics that interest you. In this case, Israel being a society of emigrants, being a society in a constant struggle with its identity. My academic research connects me closely with the events and processes taking place here in Israel. Even though I work closely with Spain and South America, my academic activity ties me even stronger to this country of mine where my family has been for several generations now.

Let’s talk about your new book: Fútbol, Jews, and the Making of Argentina, what is the impression that you hope to leave behind?
First of all most people tend to be surprised when they see the title of this book because they tend to believe that sports haven’t been that important for Jews in the past two centuries or so. Jews are supposedly the people of the book. I claim they are also people of the ball, fútbol, basketball, and other ball games. People keep asking me, “Is that serious, where there many Jews involved in soccer in Argentina?” I said, “Yes, soccer was very important in their daily lives in South America. Many of them either played fútbol, or were administrators of soccer clubs, fans of soccer clubs. Men, women, and children, since fútbol in general is very important in Argentina it is also important for Jewish Argentines. It shouldn’t be surprised that Jews in England are intrigued by the same issues like non-Jews in England. It’s the same, Jews in Argentina are fascinated by soccer, tango like any Argentine. The commonly held assumption is that fútbol was never important for Jews anywhere because supposedly we Jews shouldn’t waste our time on unimportant activities. This is false, since the middle of the 19th century, various sports have been important to Jews everywhere.
That just brought up a final point, I know that organized sport isn’t as big here [in Israel] as in the way the school systems are set up. The children go to school in the morning, and by noon they’re out. They have the option of going to sports or other activities afterword but organized sports don’t often come with the school. When you compare to Europe, and the states, even in South America there are many after school programs that children have the option to be a part of…
It’s true that it’s not an integral part of the school’s curriculum as it is in other countries. However, very many kids are a part of sports in the afternoons and evenings. Very many Israelis are fans of soccer, basketball, volleyball, swimming, general athletics.

Do you think that will change? Or do people think the system it is perfect now and don’t want it to change?
I don’t foresee any change in the near future, although it I would certainly encourage time in not just academics but to extracurricular as well.