A very interesting birthday for me. I've made it all the way from San Francisco to a Kibbutz in the southern-most part of Israel, much obliged to the help of random strangers who kindly guided me in the right direction and steered me away from ending up in the Somalian sex trade traffic or something. I'm about to go drink a bottle of rose in the Negev desert to celebrate my aforementioned birthday under the stars..with new friends and a guitar...and then get my first real sleep in over two days.
I arrived at Tel Aviv airport at the lovely hour of 3 o'clock in the morning the day of my birthday and after being subjected to an intensely uncomfortable search that bordered on sexual harrassment, was able to pick up my bag with little hassle. As one might imagine i had no where to go in the middle of the night, so birthday festivities commenced with me reading all the Arabic airport signs (yes, Arabic in Israel, I was thrilled) and then curling up in one of those plastic seats with a book on game theory to read until a decent hour. I guess something about the disheveled American with the backpack reading a math book at 4 a.m. in the Tel Aviv airport caught the eye of the 30 year old man to my left, who after observing me subtly for several minutes, offered me a piece of candy. i assessed the situation, and assigned ten more utils to the prospect of a succulent piece of candy than the possibility of being drugged and carted off, and accepted. It appears I made the right choice for the man was supremely interesting, a Swedish journalist, born in Iraq, who reported undercover in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Iran, and who gave me advice on how to thrive as a journalist in the Middle East. He even bought me a much-needed nice cup of coffee to celebrate my birthday-which was also, it ends up, rufy-free
At seven a.m., I braved leaving the airport for Tel Aviv. I had to be at the central train station at noon in order to catch the bus to the Kibbutz in Southern Israel. I boarded a local bus, giving the fresh faced 19 year old sitting next to me lots of extra room so as not to inadvertantly nudge his m-16 with my knee. (I had arrived to Tel Aviv on a Sunday which is the day when all the soldiers return to base from a weekend with their family, so they're everywhere.) Boarding a bus was an interesting decision, given the fact I had no bus map and speak no Hebrew. I nearly boarded the wrong bus several times, but was kindly redirected by English-speaking Israelis who figured the American running with a Lonely Planet in hand to catch a bus headed to the middle of the Negev desert was probably misdirected. After hopping on three different local buses, waiting around at the wrong station, and taking the train several times (once in the wrong direction), and having everyone from old kipa-wearing men to young soldiers from Alabama help me out, I finally ended up at the central train station in Tel Aviv. I sat around observing the eclectic mix of people, the undernourished nappy-headed wandering youth with backpacks, Hassidic Jews with long beards and black full-length shirts, pants, and hats in the 100 degree weather, and of course, the young soldiers, including a gorgeous 19 year old girl with an automatic rifle who asked me if I would kindly watch her bag...who knew what manner of explosives I was responsible for.
I met up with my other group members (who, incidentally, informed me that there was a simple, direct train from the airport to the station that took a grand total of 15 minutes and cost 15 shekels.) There are six of us, we're all American college-aged girls, and we drove to Eilat in Southern Israel, where we will be studying at the Arava environmental institute on a Kibbutz. It's a four-week interdisciplinary, hands-on and academic course on all facets of environmentalism in the region -- from sustainable date harvesting to environmental ethics and their role in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. The drive through Israel, from Tel Aviv in the North, to Eilat in the south was drop dead gorgeous. An hour out of Tel Aviv, we passed into the Negev desert, a barren, harsh environment with scattered Al Ols--spontaneous mini dust tornadoes formed by clashing eddies--, sparse salt shrubs, and the occasional Bedouin encampment. (Who knows how they manage, there is no water, barely any plants, and every day tops 100 degrees). In the central desert, post army checkpoint #4, we stopped at this view point overlooking the most intensely beautiful natural crater. Its called a Maktesh, and they only exist in Israel. They are formed by mountains with eroded centers, leaving a gorgeous canyon-like moonscape that stretches as far as the eye can see. While we were observing the view, several curious ibex climbed the boulders to observe us from up close.
We arrived on the Kibbutz just in time for a dinner of deliciously fresh vegetables and whole wheat starches. The kibbutz is a a gorgeous place, an oasis of green and clustered date palms in the midst of a barren tundra with evocative purple mountains in every direction. 10 km to the east are the massive Ketura mountains that demarcate the Jordanian border and are a part of the Afro-Syrian rift that runs uninterrupted from the Tigris river to Lake Victoria. The kibbutz is filled with all sorts of people, from the 144 members who live and work here year-round, to guests who rent out rooms, to free-spirited traveling volunteers, to Jewish youth groups, to the students and staff associated with the environmental institute. Seriously, its a mix of people from all walks of life, Muslims, Jews, Israelis, Arabs, Argentinians...you name it. I'm super stoked to be here!
