Arrival in Israel

Some Questions Answered

I'm sorry it's taken so long to update--we just finished Ulpan finals, I'll explain more in detail below. Since publishing the blog I've gotten a few questions about the blog's title, specifically because the term 'Orient' is incredibly vague and fairly archaic. The reason I chose it is that I was looking for a politically neutral term to describe this region that I'm studying in which also carries with it the connotations of an incredibly diverse and rich culture. In this post I'll talk mostly about my trip to the country itself, my first days here, the Ulpan, and of course, Carmel National Park.

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When the hassle of acquiring plane tickets was finished, I ended up with an indirect flight to Israel. My first flight was supposed to be from Chicago to Toronto, and from there I would fly on to Tel Aviv. However, due to a snow storm in Chicago (of course), I missed my connecting flight from Toronto to Tel Aviv--landing in Toronto 21/2 hours late. 

Though United realized that their delayed arrival caused me to miss my Air Canada flight to Tel Aviv, they initially refused to acquire a new flight for me insisting that it was Air Canada's responsibility. Air Canada insisted the opposite.

I eventually negotiated a United Airlines ticket from Toronto back into the US, to New York, with a United ticket from New York to Tel Aviv. And I managed to get hotel vouchers for the night. The flight to New York was uneventful.

On the flight from New York to Tel Aviv, I was seated between your average Israeli who worked for a technology company based in California (on my left) and a Haredi (on my right). Unfortunately, despite the irony of the situation, I did not get either of their names. The gentleman to my left was in his early thirties, a married father of three, and was still jet lagged from his first flight. His first flight was from L.A. to New York. His company had done him the courtesy of flying him to their headquarters in California...for exactly ten days.

The Haredi had been on a flight to visit his father, and now lived in Jerusalem. He didn't speak to me at first, only handing me the pretzels the stewardess had given him because they were the wrong sort of kosher. I asked him if he found it difficult to pray on the plane surrounded by all the confined chaos of the nine-hour flight. He looked surprised by the question, and replied that he did not. 

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Landing in Israel I was quite nervous because about customs. Given that I was entering a country which had been engaged in asymmetrical conflict for the past sixty years, I imagined a grueling process of checking documents and meticulously searching my neatly packed suitcases. Five customs counters were open, two of which were designated for English speakers, two for Hebrew, and one for Russian. I stood in line in an English one, only to have the sign change halfway through to Hebrew, forcing me to switch. My documents were briefly looked over, and I was shuffled down to have my bags checked.

I had imagined large examining tables, bright lights, metal detectors, and ordinance disposal boxes. Instead there was only the largest baggage x-ray machine I had ever seen. My neatly packed suitcases were passed through, examined, and let out. With that, I was officially in country

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My first few nights I stayed with the Martins: Gershom, Wendy, and Aviva, and was treated to warm Israeli hospitality. It was a rather gentle immersion into the culture, as Wendy is a US citizen and her husband and daughter both speak fluent English. I stayed in the Tel Aviv suburb of Rehovot (רְחוֹבוֹת)a town founded in the 1890's by a community of Polish Jews on land purchased from local aristocracy. The town boasts wonderful citrus groves and the famous Weitzman Institute of Science named for renowned scientist and politician Chaim Weitzman.

While in Rehovot, I began to take in some of the major cultural differences. The first was the driving. Driving in Israel takes a unique combination of aggression, strategy, and reflexes. For example: roundabouts are quickly replacing stop signs, as drivers frequently ignore the stop signs. There are, instead, large mirrors are placed at intersections to allow drivers to see oncoming cars. The second thing I noticed was the security, though not in the way you might think. It's true that at the entrance to most public areas (malls, museums, train stations, etc.)there are armed guards and metal detectors. But unlike security in the U.S. (where they make you remove your belt, loose change, shoes, and cellphone) Israeli metal detectors are set to a high enough sensitivity that they won't detect the coins in your pocket, belt buckle, or zipper on your jacket. Instead you simply set your phone aside, let them wave a wand in front of your backpack, and you're on your way. 

While in Rehovot I got to see the major sites: Chaim Weitzman's house (he was Israel's first president) along with several of Israel's first computers. One of the most memorable sites was Ayalon Institute.

 Looking like a tourist, Chaim Weitzman's  House, Rehovot

WEIZAC Israel's first computer, Weitzman Institute

Golem, the successor

A lovely cafe in Rehovot Wendy and Gershom took me to

Ayalon had been founded as a kibbutz in 1945 by the Haganah movement. To explain Haganah is a whole semester's worth of material unto itself, but in short, Haganah was a para-military organization formed by Jews in the British Mandate of Palestine to protect Jewish kibbutzim from raids by Arab para-military groups. (Haganah was distinct from Irgun and Lehi which were other gorilla militias formed by Jews with the express purpose of attacking [any] Arabs and British soldiers.)  

While on the surface Ayalon functioned as any other Kibbutz community, Ayalon housed an underground factory which produced ammunition for Haganah's Sten, a sub-machine-gun clone. Only a few of Ayalon's workers were aware of the factory's existance; this secrecy was necessary to prevent nearby British soldiers from raiding it. (It was, after all, an illegal arms factory.) Numerous measures were taken by Ayalon's arms workers to conceal the factory:

--an underground UV lamp to give the factory workers tans to present the impression that they had been doing outdoor agricultural labor all day like everyone else

--a brush to scrape brass shavings off of worker's shoes

--motorized slide-away entrances concealed beneath a laundry machine and bread oven respectively

--a milk truck to ship the bullets

--a ventilation system concealed in the bakery's chimney 

The secrecy was nearly breached when Hannah, a 17 year old Holocaust survivor and worker, witnessed the laundry machine slide away to allow several bullet manufacturers leave at day's end. She promptly fainted. Rather than kill her or lie to her to keep the secret, when she came round, they told her the truth. After showing her the machines, she fainted again. When she came round the second time, she requested to join the workers and helped to produce ammunition.

Belt driven machines for manufacturing cartridges

Close up of machinery

Israeli Sten clones

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After leaving Rehovot, I headed, by train, directly to the University to begin my Ulpan (אולפן). The name translates literally to 'teaching' or instruction and is an insane course developed by Israeli linguistic scholars to teach Hebrew quickly and efficiently. While the term originally referred strictly to the Hebrew course, a parallel Arabic Ulpan course is offered by the University as well. The course consists of five hours of instruction 5.5 days a week (Sunday mornings are off for Christian students) and mountains of homework. That being said it did also offer several tours of the sights, the details of which I will relate in further posts.

During the Ulpan I got the chance to learn about the city of Haifa and the University. Haifa is admittedly Israel's most liberal city because of it's diverse Arab-Israeli population. What is most striking about the University's population is that due to the large number of Mizrahi (Near Eastern) and Sephardic (Near Eastern, North African, and Spanish) Jews--telling the difference between Arab and Israeli students on sight frequently is impossible. (As I was told by an Israeli upon arival "you're not in Ashkenazim [Central/Eastern European Jews] land anymore".) While some Arab Muslim men wear beards and Arab Christians wear crosses, not all do. Furthermore, not all Israeli men (even those who are religious) wear kipot and many grow beards for aesthetic or religious reasons. Many of the Muslim Arab women do wear Hijabs (head scarves) though the degree to which they veil varies--some wear simple scarves and long concealing dresses, others wear patterns and dress modestly, and some not at all. Christian Arab women also tend not to wear outward signs of their religion.

Another feature of the University's diversity is the unique intercultural encounters which would be out of place anywhere else. One morning, I entered the campus Cafe to find the Arab cashier chatting with the blonde waitress in Arabic. At the open air market ('shook' שוק) where I get my groceries, I watched an elderly Russian lady approach an Arab vegetable vendor and ask him in broken Arabic about the price of some peppers. He replied to her in fluid Russian that they were 5 Shekels a kilo. (I am presently convinced that Haifa's markets are the only place in the world where Arabic and Russian are both preferred secondary languages. Most of the signs feature either language in addition to Hebrew.)

But probably the best thing about the campus is it's proximity to Carmel Park. The Park is a government sanctioned nature preserve, the entrance to which is directly across the street from the University. Aside from the fact that it's gorgeous, after about an hour of hiking one of its' trails, you'll completely forget that there's a whole city a few miles away. My only grievance is the Israeli trail markers.

My Backyard

Mountain slope

Mountains

Trail Marker

For reference, this marker is about eight inches in length. This wouldn't be that big a deal if it weren't for the fact that the valley floor in the park is cris-crossed with river beds that are dry most of the year. So, if you're not careful, you can end up following the wrong 'trail' for about twenty minutes...until you realize that you haven't seen a marker the entire time. Of course this could be because the last one was obscured by a piece of brush which was also forest green...just like the trial marker. Or because you've been following a dry river bed and are now faced with a wall of thorn covered bushes signaling that you have indeed been going the wrong way. I have not taken any pictures from the valley floor, though I will shortly. 

This more or less sums up my first few days in Israel. Tomorrow I'll fill you all in on my trip to Nazareth. Until then--enjoy!