Sticks and Stones

Greatly looking forward to three weeks of peace, quiet and solitude in the mini session of my program we call track 1.5 during which most people fled Beer Sheva to study Torah in Jerusalem, clean toilets on an army base, or find some sort of spiritual connection in Tsfat... I, however, decided to stay in Beer Sheva for three more weeks of desert life studying Hebrew, volunteering, and simply hanging out. I unfairly had grandiose visions of catching up on pleasure reading, getting ahead on Hebrew vocabulary, digesting the past three months of life in Israel, and (deep breath) thinking critically about plans after Otzma ends in June. Well, not surprisingly, I never found this boredom or alone time I longed for. At least not enough. I, not surprisingly, kept myself busy by volunteering at day cares, traveling as much as possible, and spending time with friends.

Our coordinators envisioned these three weeks as a cultural experience for the five of us who chose to stay in Beer Sheva, and although I'm not sure that I would title it a "cultural experience", it did provide me with a bit more autonomy and space to breathe than I have since arriving in Israel in August. On top of our usual schedule we went on "field trips" to the Airforce Museum and to the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. The Israel Museum had a model of what Ancient Jerusalem looked like, some interesting sculptures and a few rooms of modern art- which I frequently view as a lame attempt at art- clearly not my cup of tea.

I have to interrupt myself and address the fact that I am writing from a big plush booth at a popular coffee shop which is presently swamped with people coming in and out. The most adorable little girl with golden brown ringlets, big blue eyes, and fingers and cheeks absolutely caked in chocolate and crumbs just climbed into my booth and sat with me as I am typing. Her mom looked at me, looked back down at her magazine, and continued reading leaving her child sitting with a complete stranger. Not that I look threatening by any means, but would that ever happen in America? So what do I do? Of course I pull up pictures of Chloe to show her while she giggles and barks at the laptop screen. Only in Israel...

I spent a few afternoons at a Moadonit (after school program) for elementary school age children during Chanukah because there is no school during the holiday. These kids were fireballs of energy and so much fun to play with. They repetitively confused America for Africa as they would introduce me to their friends as "Sharon from Africa" and had a hard time understanding that I don't understand Hebrew completely perfectly. Over and over again they start out speaking slowly and pick up the pace until I can't catch anything. When I stop them to clarify a word in Hebrew that I don't understand, they explain it to me in even faster paced Hebrew. I merely nodded and threw in a word or two to show that I was listening- even if I didn't understand. It amazes me how creative, energetic, and heartwarming little kids are all over the globe.
Last week Jessica and I went on The Big Field Trip with Acharei, the program for high schoolers before the army that I train with twice a week. It was a big field experience putting together everything we have been working towards. It was three days of sprints, push ups, trail running at night, traveling with stretchers on our shoulders, bad food, sleepless nights in the bitter cold, and more push ups and sprints. I honestly cannot believe that we did it. When I think back to the first night when we sprinted for hours and ran in the pitch black desert with stretchers bearing 150 pounds of rocks and dirt until 3:30 am, went to sleep at 4, rose at 6am to navigate and find coordinates spreading over 10-15 kilometers in the desert sun and so on... I can't believe we made it. The second night we went to bed at 11:15pm, woke up at 3:15 am to begin filling bags with rocks to pile on the stretchers for "The Big Journey," they call it. A 12km trek over rocks and sand which ended at Ben Gurion's grave at Sde Boker. To toot our own horn, we did a great job and went above and beyond what we could have done to get by. Although there were other girls on the trip, most of them didn't pull their share carrying the stretcher or what have you... but I give them credit, too. How some of these frail girls make up and hair done survived at all is beyond me.

Every one says that getting through experiences like this is all mental, and while I believe them the black and blues on my shoulders beg to differ. Much of the experience was humorous. Why Jess and I, two American girls who will never be in the army, were there to begin with is funny in itself. Why we voluntarily subjected ourselves to this torture was beyond me. When it was painfully cold, or we ate a dinner consisting of a baked potato and a cucumber, what could we do other than laugh? When we were told, again, to sprint to the top of the peak because we weren't in formation quickly enough, what could we do other than laugh? When the commanders shouted out orders that we didn't understand and we were left standing clueless while everyone else took off... or perhaps more humorous was that we adopted the attitude: when in doubt, take off in a sprint or jump down into "matzav shtayim" (position two: push up position). While this frequently worked, on occasion the commanders would be seemingly scolding the group and at what seemed like the proper "go" mark we turned around to take off only to find everyone looking at us like fools because he gave no orders at all. Again, perfect reason to laugh, right?

We made it through the hard journeys telling funny stories and pulling each other along on this challenging, amazing and meaningful experience for both of us. I am lucky that Jess had a really really tough time and wanted to throw down the white flag and go home. It gave me something on which to focus my energy. Needing to be optimistic and encouraging to someone else made it easier for me to make it. I guess that is my nature... being strong for others helps me function in adverse situations. Anyhow, this field trip taught me a lot about leadership and teamwork in ways that I haven't experienced before. Beyond what any school club or sports team has ever taught me, and I am so grateful to have gone. It also further solidified my perceptions of the differences between Israelis and Americans. Mostly that Israelis are the toughest people on the planet. Period. At the end of the trip when it was reasonable to be exhausted beyond the ability to function, some of the guys would have told you that it wasn't tough at all. The ability to function under immense pressure and stress that is seemingly innate to these kids is beyond me and I dream of having one minute fraction of their calm and togetherness.

Mom, Dad, and Howie and Elizabeth are coming to visit in exactly one week and I can't believe it. I'm so excited to see faces from home and spend time with my family that I am beside myself...

Halechem Yesh Kasheh...

Yesh kasheh rak b'lechem, v'gam anachnu ochlim oto. Israelis have a saying that doesn't quite translate into English how I might like it to, but I will try my best to explain it as eloquently as Gilad explained it weeks ago to me. Literally translated this means: the bread also has crust, but this, too, we eat. The play on words is that the word kasheh means both "crust" and "hard/difficult"... so in essence it is saying that life surely presents difficulties, but we overcome them and move forward. Does that make sense? Anyhow, the past few months have definitely presented me many obstacles small and large, and working to overcome them has been an extremely rewarding experience. I quite like the saying and think about it on a daily basis.

Living in Beer Sheva is a challenge on its own. Before the temperatures started cooling down for fall, the days were hot. The streets were hot, our classrooms were hot, and our apartments trapped in nice hot desert air. Nonetheless, we all trekked out to HaBig (the Big outdoor mall with an Ace Hardware) to buy fans creating the most efficient cooling systems I have seen since freshmen year in the dorms. We also live in the mercaz klitah, an absorption center, with families who mostly speak neither English or Hebrew, which leaves us minimal manner by which to communicate. Their children, however, have found their own ways to communicate; some of our young little boy neighbors like to knock on our door meticulously aiming their fake machine guns at the entrance while waiting for us to answer. A bit shocking, but amusing at the same time. These are the populations many people on Otzma are helping. A further challenge is that living in Beer Sheva has taken away a bit of my independence. Besides the fact that I don't have my own car to get around, before students came our social circles were limited pretty much to each other. Fortunately the folks I am surrounded by are good people. Fortunately I am comfortably independent traveling, and know a few folks here and there to branch outside of the American bubble we have created. That said, life here is good. And relative to others in our neighborhood, life is really good.

The people in Beer Sheva are helpful and friendly. I love the desert, and especially the Negev. University students moved back to town so the social scene has picked up. We have a fantastic shwarma stand 50 meters from our "apartment complex." The bus station here runs buses to Tel Aviv all day on the half hour. The shuk (market) in town has magnificent fruits that I have never seen anywhere before, and most importantly I love love love my volunteer work.

I'm working hard to learn this complicated language. (Whining about this difficulty is why I learned the bread/crust phrase.) I spend my days in Hebrew class, at the coffee shop studying more Hebrew, and volunteering around town. I'm volunteering with medical students on an AIDS task force type program promoting safe sex and STD testing on Ben Gurion University's Campus. We receive a wide array of reactions from students; anywhere from appreciation for information and concern, to frightened or appalled reactions.

On Mondays nights I volunteer the night shift on an ambulance which ends just in time for class at 8:15am. Some nights are more quiet than others, and at the beginning of each shift I have conflicted emotions... while I want to see cool things, I clearly feel guilty hoping for injuries and sickness. Unfortunately Becca and I experienced our first death on a shift, but fortunately it was an older man who's house was covered with picture and letters from children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren living all over the world. It seems that he lived a fulfilling life and by grace the family on the scene didn't seemed caught entirely off guard. Nevertheless, seeing his wife and life partner who seems to have made Aliyah from either France or Morocco, left behind in the home they created together was heart wrenching. Enough of this topic... Tonight, I am writing at 7:30 am because I'm stalling until class begins, we picked up an 18 year old girl suffering from what seemed to be an epileptic seizure. It was a bit unsettling to pull this girl out of a crown of 15 or so friends who had clearly been drinking at 4am while she convulsed incessantly the entire ride to the hospital. I think Hadass will be all right.

Possibly the activity I look forward to the most is the time I spend with high school students twice a week preparing for the military. I love love love working with these high-schoolers. It is one of the coolest and most meaningful experiences I have had in Israel. Ever. These "kids" are seemingly so excited about everything- even joining the army. They are so excited to meet Americans and ask questions, and so eager to help us. Twice a week I participate in basic training type workouts with them. I clearly have no idea what is going on while the commanders (young guys who have finished serving their obligatory time in the military) scream orders at us in Hebrew, but the way that the students translate and coach me the best they can warms my heart. The teamwork that they exemplify is like nothing I've ever seen in the states. For example, if we are running long sprints and somebody is struggling on the return, someone else will voluntarily run beside the struggling runner- literally holding his/her hand the entire way back. Or if we are running drills up flights of stairs repetitively and some one's legs tire, the stronger participants will run the stairs behind the weaker literally supporting them flight after flight. I don't know how to paint this picture, but it is beautiful.
More than I expected, I stick out everywhere I go no despite my greatest efforts to appear "Israeli". This, in itself, is quite ironic because this country is an immigrant nation. There is no "Israeli" look because everyone is either from Morocco, Poland, Iran, South America etc... yet somehow I am just blatantly American. When I walk through the paths at the market men will just yell from meters away, "America, hey America, come here!" What the? Although quite annoying and embarrassing at time, the attention frequently gives me a good laugh.

I went to the Mosh Ben-Ari concert in Tel Aviv, coordinate an Otzma field trip to Hot Springs nearby, danced the night away in discos around Israel, and ate sub-par sushi at an eclectic dinner joint in town. Yes, I really do miss accessibility to excellent sushi. Along with Chloe, trees changing, and being able to jump home for a weekend with the family. I love, however, seeing new places as often as possible and meeting new folks along the way. Two weeks ago I went with friends further south to Sde Boker, an old Kibbutz and area in the desert with beautiful terrain and Ben Gurion's grave. We enjoyed Shabat in a guest house and hiked in the morning to Ain Avdat- a pool from a natural spring in the middle of the Negev. After hiking for hours in the desert sun, we jumped into water so cold I felt pins and needles for a good while after emerging from my dunk (yes, there was a lifeguard). As we hiked we were surrounded by rocky mountainous landforms of white chalky talc dirt that won't let you forget where you are. Again, I love the Negev.

Recently Otzma went on field trip to Jerusalem to visit places we are not allowed to visit on our own- for safety reasons of course. The goal was to explore spirituality and the connectivity to Jerusalem that the three major monotheistic religions implore by visiting the Kotel (the western wall), The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (where Jesus was allegedly crucified), the Dome of the Rock (where Allah traveled to from Mecca on a magic carpet ride), and Mount of Olives (where some wait for the Messiah to return). The field trip was a remarkable experience and I enjoyed taking some interesting photographs while fiddling with new settings I found on my camera. Some adorable Arab children playing soccer in front of lovely arches near the dome were quite flirty with the camera and brought more and more of their little friends over for a photo shoot. We could exchange few words, but they were humored by seeing images of themselves on a wee little screen. A few hours later, while driving through East Jerusalem, little kids played on the street in front of their apartments set in front of majestic desert hills. As I was carried away by the scenery, I somehow missed seeing an eight year old boy holding a ball in one hand pick up a rock nearly six inches in diameter with the other. I also failed to see him winding his arm in preparation to launch said rock at our bus. I did, however, see the rock flying towards the window directly towards my face and hear the horrendous crashing sound it made as it hit the ever-so-resistant glass that I am so grateful our bus had. Although this is what I see on the news on a regular basis, I overall feel so safe here that I didn't think about the possibility.

Honestly I was quite shaken up, but spent the ensuing time thinking about what happened and why. I have so many questions about this child's actions and the ramifications for which he probably has no idea follow such actions. Was he imitating what he sees on television? Was the incident not related to news at all, but merely a child goofing around? Was it intentionally at an American bus? Did his parents teach him to do this? Why was he on the streets alone at night, anyway? How much of this conflict is fueled and exacerbated by children's actions? Anyhow, we left the area, in tact, a different route than we entered and so ended our organized field trip. A few of us stumbled to a "Grill" restaurant where a Hadassah group from Detroit also decided to eat its first meal on its journey. Of course some of them knew some of our friends on Otzma, and as a hired singer sang old Israeli folk songs and melodies, Kassandra and I joined them for an awkward Israeli dance session in the middle of the restaurant including the Horah and Mayim-Mayim. It was difficult to make a clean escape to our table, but another memory nonetheless.

And off I go to class... Pictures to come soon. I hope.

Sukkahs Sukkahs Everywhere...

Call me "well-warned" that everything goes on hiatus in Israel "until after the Chagim (holidays)". But what does that mean? Surely the entire country cannot hibernate for three weeks- from Rosh Hashanah through the end of Sukkot, right? Wrong. Nothing happens, nothing gets done, and apparently no one works. Everyone wishes everyone happy new year, an easy fast, and happy holidays to all passersby. And I mean everyone. And for some reason, it carries a bit more weight than the "Merry Christmas" I receive everywhere I go in the states. It is a genuine wish of happiness and a true time of enjoyment and togetherness.

A few observations of Israelis during this holiday season: even if they don't go to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, the have a new year's dinner with their families. Even if they don't fast on Yom Kippur, they don't go to work or drive anywhere and the streets are full of pedestrians. Even if they never say a single prayer, the all of sukkahs in their backyards, in their patios, on the streets... wherever they can construct one, there is a sukkah. If they can't have their own, they eat in their neighbors', friends' or family's. I was truly beside myself seeing such a plethora of sukkahs in this country. Literally, parts of the streets in Jerusalem were blocked by sukkahs because the street was the only space available for some restaurants to build such a structure.

*In case "sukkah" is not in your vocabulary... today, a sukkah is a temporary shelter that has at least two and half walls of some sort with a roof made out of natural materials. Rain should be able to pass through the roof and stars should be able to be soon. Traditionally during the seven days of this harvest festival people eat, sleep and visit inside of these structures. Feel free to google sukkot for more information*

That said, it is probably quite obvious that this experience is like nothing I've ever experience in North Carolina... or even in the yuppy part of Brooklyn where I lived for a few months. It was heart-warming to hear my friends tell me of family dinners neighbors houses in the sukkah and to see how inviting families are to friends and strangers alike into their homes for such festivities.

Clearly, I am quite moved by Sukkot's impact on Israel. However, no matter how many people warned me about this hibernation, I found myself frighteningly frustrated by the stagnation. I frequently caught myself trying to trick myself into appreciating a slower pace and this peace and quiet, yet I felt very trapped. I have realized that I do, indeed, miss something other than my black lab (Chloe) from the states: the ease with which I have independence at home. While I know that I can travel independently here and I am capable of navigating and communicating, being at the will of the bus schedule and employees who are constantly on holiday complicates matters quite a bit. I miss the luxury of being able jump in my car and the ability to drive myself wherever I choose. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my Sukkot vacation and made things work to the best of my abilities with the help of friends and a little bit of patience. Yes, Dad, believe it or not... sometimes I have patience.

I traveled north to Tiberias on the Kinerret (Sea of Galilee) with a group of ten or so from which planned to hike a famous route across the country to the Mediterranean Sea. This hike is creatively named "Sea to Sea". Full of adrenaline and weighed down with backpacks full of calorie-laden snacks, sunscreen and liters of water, we set out at 5 am (ok... 6) to conquer this journey that "all Israelis do" at some point or other. Frequently around the age of 14. Little did we know that most Israelis brilliantly hike this trail the other direction so that you hike for four days downhill as opposed to hiking up steep rocky faces in high temperatures with heavy packs. Dumb Americans. After ten hours of hiking and extreme uncertainty as to how many kilometers before reaching civilization we pass many Israelis who are sure to tell us that we are crazy and we must go back half an hour and abort the mission. So we hike on, of course, determined to finish the day's hike. Another hour passes- along with an Israeli father and son team crossing our path. The father, in true Israeli fashion, tells us that we are utterly unprepared, we should each have a liter and a half of water on us for the remaining 9k uphill climb(we cumulatively might have had one...) and that we must follow him to the nearest highway to rest for the night. Well, how does one argue with that? So we finished for the day and spent the night in Tzfat where we found the only open hostel- a religious hostel where sang songs and were scolded for having guys from our program in the girls dorms. It's all part of the experience, no?

After great debate of what we would all do collectively we realized that traveling in herds is quite difficult and separated into more efficient groups. The next few days that I spent in the Golan region were filled with magnificent field trips. Horseback riding through the hills, wine tasting, a road trip with Michal, Gilad and Lauren to breathtaking cliffs splashed by clear turquoise water on the Lebanese border followed by scrumptious hummus and labaneh at a restaurant on the sea in Acko- a city where Muslims, Christians, Drews and Jews live together peacefully. More adventures followed- a hike in Emek Haela, where David beat Goliath, and where we sat by a fire drinking tea, and and a journey to underground caves where we saw the most interesting stalagmites and stalactites. Feel free to google those, too.

After all this stimulation and excitement I sadly climbed onto a bus headed southbound, home to Beer Sheva for my first full week of Ulpan. My Hebrew is improving- soon to be fluent... Not.

Yom Kippur in Jerusalem

I'm sure you all have been biting your nails anxiously waiting to hear how Magen David Adom training went, right? You can now rest assured knowing that I am officially certified to volunteer as a first aid responder in Israel after sitting 8 days of lectures and drills from 8:30am until 10:00pm including exams and practice. Although it was challenging sitting in a strikingly whitely lit classroom for biology lectures, I clearly learned a lot. It is fascinating to think about the human body in terms of problem solving and strategies first aid tactics. The drills we practiced were hypothetical situations that we will come across in the field in order to prepare us for our volunteer shifts. An example? One afternoon I had to sprawl out along the sidewalk in front of the conference center where our course was held with a motorcycle helmet on.

The scenario: I had been in a motorcycle accident, faded in and out of consciousness, and most likely had spinal injuries. From there, our instructor sent out an ambulance team to the scene to save me. Poor passersby stopped one after another to ask if everything was all right and to help while my classmates meticulously strapped me to a backboard and took my vitals. Because my Hebrew is not so great I could only respond, "Hacol biseder, anachnu lomdim." (Everything is fine, we are studying...) Some of my classmates have already begun covering shifts and have reported stories of injuries as scary as strokes, heart attacks, and car accidents and as minor as scrapes and public drunkenness. I am looking forward to work to come in Be'er Sheva.

Yom Kippur fell in the middle of the course and all of the Otzma participants met in Jerusalem for a seminar. The day before we learned with various educators for workshops on topics such as holiday traditions, spirituality, and creative writing. Regarding the holiday itself we each did as we pleased and spread throughout the city attending a multitude of different synagogues if we so chose, rested at the hotel if we chose, or visited with relatives in the area. I spent Kol Nidre at the kotel listening to the loud voices of many groups of men davening with family and community members by the Western Wall. On Saturday I spent the afternoon at the Kotel as well, and after reciting the Mourner's Kaddish in front of the wall, I broke fast with hundreds- if not thousands- of people as soldiers handed out muffins and juice. It clearly wasn't my typical Yom Kippur, and I missed my family's break the fast (especially Helaine's kugel) but I am grateful for the experience and enjoyed the unique opportunity I had. I haven't exactly processed that the high holidays have come and gone, but hopefully now that I have vacation during Sukkot I will breathe a bit and think about the year that passed and the year to come.

It is amazing to walk around the city and see so many sukkahs every where you turn. Tons of homes have them in the the yards, and people even build them on their porches and patios of apartments completely clad in decorations. Tons of restaurants have built them blocking sidewalks- some even protrude into the street and it is just part of the culture. I wandered through plenty of markets specifically for lulavs and etrogs and it is like nothing I have ever seen before.

My first free day out of class I enjoyed the day with Chani, my cousin from Pittsburgh, and her husband, Schlomo who are spending the year in Jerusalem. We spent the afternoon chatting and looking through pictures in their perfectly located and cute apartment, venturing out to the zoo, navigating the market, and enjoying freshly sliced halvah after dinner. We took plenty of pictures in front of monkeys and such so hopefully we will have those up soon for you to admire. After a night out on the town in Jerusalem we hopped over to Tel Aviv where I spent the afternoon on the beach with a huge group of others from my program and danced the night away by the beach with Michal and friends. We are planning fun field trips in the country as we speak so I must run...

Let's start at the very beginning...

As I am about to pass the three week marking point, I realize that I have yet to write down much of anything substantial in any forum- be it email, journal, or scribbling notes in the wee little notebook I forgot to bring along. For better or for worse I haven't stopped for a moment since landing in Tel Aviv to process anything I am experiencing as I have been non-stop on the go jumping from city to city, hostel to hostel and busting my chops navigating unfamiliar streets while chewing on bits of this foreign language called Hebrew trying to piece together what I know. All in all: Ha'kol biseder (loose translation: everything is fine and good).

My first few weeks in Israel have been similar to my experiences on Taglit-birthright israel trips. In other words, lots of Americans jumping on and off a big charter bus as we are schlepped all over the country on various fields trips and outings such as hikes, came rides, and of course quick dips in the Dead Sea. This also obviously includes large groups of Americans dining out together, going to bars together, and sticking out like a sore thumb. I have relished my last few weeks as a tourist as I am constantly making an effort to blend a bit more and acculturate to the Israeli lifestyle. I have been told by many that my first step is to lose the flip flops, but I am not there yet.

Otzma, the program I am on, has done a great job orienting the 47 participants both to Israel and to each other. I feel frighteningly comfortable with the other Otzmanikim (participants) and look forward to growing together over the next ten months. We have officially moved into our first apartments in Be'er Sheva, a desert city in the center of the country. We are living in the mercaz sc'lita, an absorption center, with immigrants from all of the worlds. It is totally surreal to walk along the outside corridors and see families from Russia, Ethiopia, India- even Cuba- all living together and all arguably Jewish. It is quite different from experiences along the East Coast and I look forward to joining the greater community as time passes.

On my first free weekend I jumped on a bus, with 38 other "kids" in my group and ventured off to Tel Aviv where we slept in sub-par hostels and enjoyed delicious sushi and great nightlife in clubs on the beach. On the Mediterranean, that is. After a lovely few days of lattes and napping in the sand I am thrilled with my decision to come to Israel for the year and found that feeling again of a swelling heart from excitement that I always experience while here. Furthermore, as nice as relaxing has been I am exciting to begin studying Hebrew in Ulpan and volunteering whenever possible. Sitting still isn't for me.

At the moment I am writing you from Michal's apartment in Modi'in, a city located conveniently half an hour outside of both Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. For Rosh Hashanah we all went to adoptive families and Michal, who I know from UVA, was kind enough to take me in. As an American I am so appreciative of the hospitality Israelis have shown me time and again, but they all promise that this is the Israeli way: to invite people into their homes and family. Michal has gone above and beyond that, but never mind, she will be embarrassed if she reads this later. Thank you, Michal.

For Rosh Hashanah her family coordinated one of the most lovely dinners in my life. On the beach up north we sat under large tents at big tables loaded with homemade meats, salads, vegetables, fruits, spreads, drinks... you get the point? We sat outside for hours eating, talking and enjoying the coming of the new year. Frequently when her father or aunts were telling stories in Hebrew, it took me a few minutes to realize I didn't even know what they were saying as I was so enveloped in their energy and enthusiasm for reminiscing that I caught myself laughing when they laughed or sighing when they sighed. Being part of an Israeli family on the holidays was "chaval al ha'zman", like none other. Of course it is weird not to be home for Rosh Hashanah, but if I can't be with my family, there's no other place I would have rather been.

This weekend I went with Michal, her roommate Asaf, and their friends to the Jordan Valley where we rented log cabins and spent the days swimming and horseback riding in the hills overlooking Jordan. I feel quite spoiled and grateful for the opportunity and acknowledge that the rest of my year here probably won't be quite the same. But who knows?

Tomorrow I begin training for Magen David Adom, the Israeli volunteer ambulance service. I have been crazily studying vocab words such as tourniquet artery, tension pneumothorax, and vomit bag and wondering what exactly I am getting myself into... That said, I cannot wait for the ten days ahead of me and look forward to learning about emergency medicine in whatever vein they will teach me.

So, running with my reference to The Sound of Music in the title, I hope this glimpse into my first few weeks in Israel has answered a few questions and provoked many more. I would love to hear from you and I am sending you all my love and best wishes- especially for the new year!