everything is new.

i am writing from the slowly-dissipating haze of a late party night, coupled with the stiffness and soreness that are the price to pay for dancing barefoot like a maniac for hours. friday nights on the kibbutz are known for their riotousness, and last night was no exception. but let’s rewind to where we left off.

my processing through the bureaucratic hoops went extremely smoothly; immigration might be more popular if everyone’s experience is as efficient and painless as mine. my aunt dana helped me every step of the way, and i doubt it would have been as easy without her shlepping me to the various offices and bank branches to get sorted. nobody spoke any english—even in the absorption center, which, granted, was based in a heavily russian-populated area (the woman insisted i must speak russian, since my name is alexandra). the same problem arose when calling customer service: “press 2 for english” and lo and behold, the person on the other end speaks not a word! i have taken to keeping a translator handy any time i need to make a call to one of these offices for information. the one time i ventured out on my own in rishon, i needed to take a bus back to the house and couldn’t find the right station; i asked a few people who didn’t know, or didn’t understand my shy attempt at asking in hebrew. a woman broke her teeth trying to eke out a few words in english, then out of nowhere asked, “parlez-vous français?” i gave her a relieved and resounding “OUI!!” and after she recovered from her moment of surprise, she got me to my bus. for the millionth time, i mentally thanked my parents for putting me through french school. needless to say, i have come out the other end: i have a bank account, an israeli I.D. (meaning i am officially a citizen), and if the phone company comes through for me, a hooked-up number in a day or two. on with the show!

i spent a night and day in tel aviv, visiting with my cousins tamar and yoni and squeezing in an hour with my dear friend bat chen (those of you who have followed my adventures from the very beginning, she is the army girl i met on a bus a few years ago, and with whom i became fast friends). the city was crowded, and hot, and i couldn’t wait to get out of there. although it was exciting to see the “tent city” (about 450 tents set up along the entire length of rothschild boulevard in protest over staggeringly high rental prices and the overall impossible cost of living). according to yoni, the week before there had been 2 tents and a guy with a megaphone. now the spark has caught and these tent cities have flared up all over the country, with demonstrations being held and televised..the media is all over it, and there is a feeling of change among the youth. idealism at its finest: they camp out on the streets, bibi makes a speech, the officials stand guard, and slowly people will slink back to their lives with a renewed sense of contentment in their routine knowing that they “did” something. will things really change? 

as my date to move to the kibbutz approached, i struggled with what to bring and ended up condensing everything into one small but heavy duffel bag. this presented me with a slight problem in the train stations, as there are rarely escalators but often endless stairs from one platform to another. dana joked that i would be perceived as a damsel in distress, and not to worry because someone would come to my aid—but she was right! an officer not only carried my burdensome bag for me (as if they don’t get enough of lugging heavy crap around), but chatted and laughed with me the whole way, ensuring i switched at the right stop and generally making the trip a whole lot less stressful than had i been trying to navigate it alone. i was reminded of how easy it is to make friends here, and how eye contact and a warm smile will often unlock a person’s kindness. sometimes it unlocks too much kindness, however: the director of the ulpan program called me to his office today, and said he got an email from an officer in the army who was looking for me, that i had forgotten something on the train, he had it for me, and could i please call him. i have unpacked everything, and i assure you, dear reader, nothing was left on that train. except, maybe, the officer. he gets points for effort, but next time i meet a kind stranger, i’ll tell them i live on a kibbutz in the desert.

i arrived at the kibbutz ulpan office and was ushered to sit down while another girl was being given the run-down. everyone was speaking spanish (this is a popular program for latin americans, but most of the staff speak spanish as well), and eventually the office lady asked me, in hebrew, if i spoke hebrew, to which i replied, in spanish, yes but my spanish is much better. shock! she couldn’t speak any english so our “interview” was conducted in español, and i was yet again thankful for my linguistic education. she seemed impressed by my credentials, and because of my experience working with small children, recommended i sign up to work with the toddlers and newborns. i am hopeful for this assignment, as i would far prefer taking care of the kiddies to folding laundry or being on the plastics factory assembly line. and i’ll take cleaning up kids’ poop over shoveling cow or horse shit ANY day. i was the first in my room, so had the privilege of choosing the best bed (out of three—it’s a tad cramped), and the pleasure of scrubbing the layer of grime off every possible surface. it’s amazing how quickly i became my mother, shifting into cleaning-frenzy overdrive. it’s not terrible—i’ve definitely lived in worse conditions—and i’ve acquired one roommate so far, a girl my age from the philippines who is also intent on keeping our space sacrosanct. so far, so good, though she doesn’t share my “if it’s yellow, let it mellow” flushing philosophy, and i will have to re-learn how to flush after every pee. it’s like throwing recyclables into the garbage—i cringe every time. the shower is in typical israeli style, which means there is no curtain, it’s essentially right over the toilet, you get absolutely everything wet and then try to wipe it all down with an oversized squeegee. i would like to have words with the person who invented such a thing. one of the best aspects of the room is the graffiti from bygone years of ulpanists, sharing advice and imparting crucial knowledge about which kibbutznik men to avoid like the plague. an excerpt from under my cubby: “don’t get with bernardo, he has the smallest penis in the world. avoid a soldier named ariel, he will try to rape you. never give niv your number.” and, in my closet: “girls: do us a favour and cut jono and miki’s balls off. thank you.”

i have yet to fully explore the kibbutz—it’s huge!—but what i have seen, i have loved. the kibbutzniks have been friendly so far, instantly recognizing a new face, welcoming us to the ulpan, wishing us luck. there is a sculpture garden with interesting pieces scattered throughout, and little flower gardens tucked away in corners overlooking nice views of the mountains. there is a petting zoo with monkeys and other loudly jeering creatures you can hear a mile away. the walk to the beach is about 15 minutes, across a land bridge through the kibbutz’s fish ponds, and the beach itself is perfect, clean and private and utterly spectacular with the carmel mountains in the distance framing the view. we hitched a ride back with a kibbutznik girl in a golf cart—she had just gotten her license, and a few times i was required to grab the wheel while she dug her ringing phone out of her pocket. the dining room experience was a bit chaotic, as nobody really told us what to do, but essentially you grab whatever food you want from the extensive buffet and are debited on our I.D. swipe card from the daily budget allotted to each person. since it was friday night, families were sitting together for their dinner, dressed nicely for shabbat—it felt completely different than anywhere i’ve been in israel so far. actually, it felt like a resort: good food, sparkling clean everything, and a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows facing the sea so we could watch the sunset as we dined. it was ridiculous.

the bar is 100m from my room, and on friday night it is open to people from outside the kibbutz. the crowd thickened around midnight, and the music blared until 4 in the morning; everyone danced and drank, and it was the epitome of a Good Time. i had been in serious need of a dancefest, not having partied like that since timmy’s beach-bar in the bahamas, and i was rewarded by my workout with sweat-drenched clothes and a new friend, mark from boston (also in the ulpan), who loves to dance as much as i do. we’ll be sure to exercise our dancing feet together at the next party (which, incidentally, will be my birthday). the gaggle of groggy-eyed ulpanists has dragged itself up and out, and is heading to the beach to roast in the sun; i am going to slap on some sunscreen and hit the “hof”.