"It's a good thing the health insurance was mandatory."
That was the first phrase out of my mouth yesterday as we departed for orientation. Water was everywhere. The floors in the stairwell were soaked with suds dripping from the top floor to the very bottom. These dorms were literally just completed and construction and cleaning was still ongoing.
We carefully made our way down. I slipped at about the fourth floor and was within a hand's breadth away of going from scholar to plaintiff. Fortunately I was able to catch myself. One of the European kids (forgive my inability to denote his nationality) made a snide remark to one of the cleaning ladies about it being a "bleeping swimming pool in here." A decent one-liner if not a disrespectful one.
We assembled at the gate at around 9:00 a.m. where the Madrichim were preparing to take us on our campus tour. Ryan, Dominique, and I ran in to Dustin and a kid named Mike. I met Mike in the El Al terminal in New York. He's from California and is one of those genuinely outgoing and excitable people. The thing I could tell right off the bat was that he likes people. When I told him I was from Alabama, he legitimately thought that was cool despite pegging me for a goyim (gentile) immediately. And he's gotten me to do a "southern" accent at least a half-dozen times in the past two days to the utter delight and amazement of just about everyone. Have no fears, I'm doing my best to perpetuate the stereotype. They're even convinced I date my first cousin.
The Madrichim broke us into four groups and took us east toward the front gates of Tel Aviv University. Our group leader was a young Israeli with "Ben-Gurion" glasses called Liran. The guy's always got a smile on his face and clearly enjoys immersing others into Israeli culture. He instructed the two security guards that we were in fact OSP students and not enemies of the state and took us inside the primary courtyard.
A brief moment to describe the campus. It's absolutely incredible. The pathways are lined with palm trees and constructed of a strangely smooth rock. The design is open and accomodating. And the buildings are well layed out and more modern than anything at Auburn--including both Lowder and Shelby. There's a massive grove in front of the Carter Building where the OSP office for overseas students is located. And an impressive looking synagogue that Liran affectionately referred to as "The Factory."
As we were being taken around the campus, big Dustin and I were discussing how we were going to be able to watch college football on Sunday mornings. Our options seem limited. But we figure we can tailgate on our balconies. War Eagle.
Liran took us inside the Social Work Building for the last part of our tour. It was here that we were going to meet some of the instructors and be given our Hebrew Placement Test. And it was also here that I realized I had stepped in what appeared to be...cat feces. Nothing like the waft of animal waste to set the mood.
I was trying not to vomit. Dominique and Dustin were trying not to laugh. More than a few people started smelling underneath their armpits. Cats will die for this infraction.
After being briefed on our program, we were divided into groups for the Hebrew Placement Test. I literally took the test, wrote my name on it, and turned it back in. What a relief to see about thirty others doing the same, including Dustin, Ryan, and Dominique. Looks like most of the MAMEH students will be joining me in the Hebrew remedial classes. Crank up the short bus, we're going for a ride!
Following up on the Hebrew test, we meandered outside to get our Israeli cellphones and grab some lunch. Dustin and I met up with a guy named Chris from San Diego, who reminds me of Uncle David. He has a dry sense of humor and is pretty poignant with his commentary. Chris is in Tel Aviv studying in preparation for med-school. He wants to work with the Save A Child's Heart (SACH) program centered in Israel that works on neo-natal heartcare for Iraqi, Palestinian, and Jordanian children. Like us, he is also non-Jewish and happens to be a conservative. The cabal numbers three.
Lunch was confusing. I couldn't read anything and the cafeteria on campus was not English-friendly. Dustin and I went with sweet potatoes, kuskus, and a fish ball. Good call. Middle Eastern food is surprisingly copacetic for my apetite. Sidebar: kuskus is like a rice-ish substance. Russell Crowe mentions it to Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie Body of Lies. And yes, I just did a pop culture name drop. Shoot me.
Of the some hundred and thirty kids here from all over the world, exactly half are from the United States with most of the others coming from Europe, Canada, and Australia. The interesting thing I've noted is that all the people I've met thus far in the MAMEH program are non-Jewish. Chris met one of these foreign students, a girl from Italy, and brought her over to where Dustin and I were finishing up lunch and discussing life in Washington D.C. Chris was clearly trying to impress her to little avail. I knew he was in trouble as soon as he asked her if, and I quote, "So do Italians still catch shit for Mussolini?"
No, Chris. Just, no.
Following the Italian girl's immediate departure, the next move was to sign up for our student ID cards and our health insurance cards. We were intentionally misled to the OSP office by the lady at the front desk who told us to take a "left, a left, and a left." Between Dustin, Chris, and myself, it took five minutes to realize we could have just taken a right. Messing with the big, dumb Americans. Very funny.
We signed up and decided to head back to our dorms. Chris unfortunately stays at the Brodetsky dorms, which are, to put it nicely, sub-par. We crashed for the better part of the night until my roommates, Ryan and Dominique, had an itch to go to the beach. We convinced Dustin to come along and decided to take a cab.
The cabbie was definitely a plant by the RNC. From the first minute we entered until the last second we exited, the cabbie did nothing but attack Obama. Dustin and I were laughing hysterically. Ryan kept a grin on his face. Dominique, our resident French-Canadian, was fuming with anger. According to our cabbie, Obama is a Muslim mother *insert expletive here* who doesn't make good on his promises and who, if walking down the street in Tel Aviv, he would roll down the window and shout "Go to hell Obama!"
Looks like the rumors of Israeli discontent toward Obama are accurate.
We arrived at the beach, calmed Dominique down (much to my chagrin), and took a stroll across the boardwalk. Tel Aviv is breathtaking. The city is cosmopolitan in a way that cities in America cannot possibly emulate. As I mentioned previously, Israelis go about their business and they go about it with purpose. Tel Aviv is an extension of that mindset. It is a definitively Israeli city that makes no apologies for not accommodating a multicultural identity. There is no "China town" or "Little Italy." There's just Tel Aviv.
Outdoor restaurants littered the beach as embassies and hotels towered behind us. An IDF patrol boat maneuvered offshore firing flares for illumination in case of potential sea intrusions. El Al planes came through the cloud-littered sky at regular intervals as the waves of the Mediterranean softly washed ashore.
"This is pretty cool, no?" Dominique quipped.
As another flare lit up the sky, I couldn't help but agree.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Gate Keeps Idiots Out...And In.
Words can't even begin to describe the feeling you get when you actually arrive here. There's a profound sense of purpose that seems to pervade the very air you breathe. This is true not only of the students who have come here from abroad but also of the Israeli people as they go about their business.
As we landed at Ben-Gurion airport, Israeli children and passengers broke out into applause and chants of "Am chai Israel! Am chai Israel!" Orthodox Jews fell to their knees in prayer in the aisles of the plane. It was a display that cannot be replicated anywhere on the planet. And it was powerful.
As we exited the plane, we were taken through passport control and customs and to assigned buses. Those of us on the 2nd and 3rd buses were being taken to Einstein dorms. The 1st bus was comprised entirely of just Ulpan students and was sent to the Brodetsky dorms. The trip took close to 30 minutes. During that time, one of the Madrichim (counselors), Moshe, instructed us on what to expect.
To say that I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. Our dorms are newly renovated. So those of us living in the Einstein dorms (aptly named for its tenants in my opinion) really got the big straw. Full kitchen, spacious rooms, full bathroom, full-size refrigerator, a flat-screen television, and the prized possession of anyone living in the Middle East: air-conditioning. Jackpot. Yahweh be praised!
Of course none of this was apparent as the bus pulled up to the dorms. Instead, we were treated to a long line in the middle of the afternoon sun awaiting room assignments, our luggage being hauled into a jumbled pile beside the front gate. And that's something important that I should emphasize. Before I even arrived here, security was first and foremost on the minds of Israelis working at El Al. I had the privilege of witnessing that firsthand. That was but a precursor to the security I've seen on the ground. Our dorms are guarded 24/7 by a private firm. An IDF patrol is assigned to this particular area. IDF helicopters have flown overhead several times. In Israel, it's security, security, security. And the suburb of Ramat Aviv isn't dangerous at all--in fact, our area of town is the upscale section. But when you're surrounded on all sides by fanatical jihadists ready to kill you as soon as look at you, that is the price you pay.
I for one am not complaining.
Once we finished being assigned to our rooms, we were able to take our luggage up and were given the rest of the day off in order to recuperate. That would have been fine had I not been assigned to a sixth floor dorm having to haul roughly 160lbs of luggage up a winding stairwell. For those of you wondering, they don't really do elevators here.
Pouring sweat from every pore on my body, I arrived to find my suite mate, Ryan, whom I had met on the plane, unpacking. My roommate, who had arrived earlier this morning, was in the shower. Ryan seems like an interesting guy. He's very nice, clean, and possesses a keen wit and a methodical manner to him. He's also in the Master's program for Middle East History.
My roommate who appeared in a fashion I can only describe as near-teleportation, is one Dominique Talbot. Dominique is from Quebec. Dominique is French-Canadian. And Dominique is a separatist. That's right. God not only finagled a Canadian Frenchman to be my roommate, but one that actually wants to break away from Canada and rejoin his long lost frogmen across the pond. You can't write this stuff.
Fortunately, Dominique is hilarious. His grasp of English is pretty good, but it's not all the way there yet. He's in the Master's program as well and he wants to be a journalist. Probably the kind of journalist that will write a hit piece on me in a coordinated smear campaign one day down the road. We'll have to wait and see on that one.
Well, the three of us set off to go buy some groceries at the Ramat Aviv Mall located a quarter of a mile from the dorms. Have you heard the one about the Seattle waiter, the French-Canadian separatist, and the Alabama redneck walking into the Middle Eastern mall? Me neither.
Between Dominique haranguing some Israeli women about whether his bottle was shampoo or conditioner, Ryan digging through the dairy aisle for anything to denote it came from a cow, and me trying to persuade the nice little Jewish cashier that American currency wasn't as devalued and worthless as Obama clearly wants it to be, I'm pretty sure we offended everyone in the mall grocery store. My bank card wouldn't work, the cashier clearly wasn't interested in Obamanomics, and shoppers were not amused by my gentile antics holding up their day. Fortunately Dominick forked out some shekels for my groceries and I promised to pay him back.
When we made it back to the dorms, Dominique and Ryan saw that I had bedding and decided another jaunt to the mall was in order. After a brief blog post, I could do little more than collapse on my bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.
And it was a good thing I did, too. Because today was a long day. And it all started with a torrential downpour in the dorm stairwell...
As we landed at Ben-Gurion airport, Israeli children and passengers broke out into applause and chants of "Am chai Israel! Am chai Israel!" Orthodox Jews fell to their knees in prayer in the aisles of the plane. It was a display that cannot be replicated anywhere on the planet. And it was powerful.
As we exited the plane, we were taken through passport control and customs and to assigned buses. Those of us on the 2nd and 3rd buses were being taken to Einstein dorms. The 1st bus was comprised entirely of just Ulpan students and was sent to the Brodetsky dorms. The trip took close to 30 minutes. During that time, one of the Madrichim (counselors), Moshe, instructed us on what to expect.
To say that I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. Our dorms are newly renovated. So those of us living in the Einstein dorms (aptly named for its tenants in my opinion) really got the big straw. Full kitchen, spacious rooms, full bathroom, full-size refrigerator, a flat-screen television, and the prized possession of anyone living in the Middle East: air-conditioning. Jackpot. Yahweh be praised!
Of course none of this was apparent as the bus pulled up to the dorms. Instead, we were treated to a long line in the middle of the afternoon sun awaiting room assignments, our luggage being hauled into a jumbled pile beside the front gate. And that's something important that I should emphasize. Before I even arrived here, security was first and foremost on the minds of Israelis working at El Al. I had the privilege of witnessing that firsthand. That was but a precursor to the security I've seen on the ground. Our dorms are guarded 24/7 by a private firm. An IDF patrol is assigned to this particular area. IDF helicopters have flown overhead several times. In Israel, it's security, security, security. And the suburb of Ramat Aviv isn't dangerous at all--in fact, our area of town is the upscale section. But when you're surrounded on all sides by fanatical jihadists ready to kill you as soon as look at you, that is the price you pay.
I for one am not complaining.
Once we finished being assigned to our rooms, we were able to take our luggage up and were given the rest of the day off in order to recuperate. That would have been fine had I not been assigned to a sixth floor dorm having to haul roughly 160lbs of luggage up a winding stairwell. For those of you wondering, they don't really do elevators here.
Pouring sweat from every pore on my body, I arrived to find my suite mate, Ryan, whom I had met on the plane, unpacking. My roommate, who had arrived earlier this morning, was in the shower. Ryan seems like an interesting guy. He's very nice, clean, and possesses a keen wit and a methodical manner to him. He's also in the Master's program for Middle East History.
My roommate who appeared in a fashion I can only describe as near-teleportation, is one Dominique Talbot. Dominique is from Quebec. Dominique is French-Canadian. And Dominique is a separatist. That's right. God not only finagled a Canadian Frenchman to be my roommate, but one that actually wants to break away from Canada and rejoin his long lost frogmen across the pond. You can't write this stuff.
Fortunately, Dominique is hilarious. His grasp of English is pretty good, but it's not all the way there yet. He's in the Master's program as well and he wants to be a journalist. Probably the kind of journalist that will write a hit piece on me in a coordinated smear campaign one day down the road. We'll have to wait and see on that one.
Well, the three of us set off to go buy some groceries at the Ramat Aviv Mall located a quarter of a mile from the dorms. Have you heard the one about the Seattle waiter, the French-Canadian separatist, and the Alabama redneck walking into the Middle Eastern mall? Me neither.
Between Dominique haranguing some Israeli women about whether his bottle was shampoo or conditioner, Ryan digging through the dairy aisle for anything to denote it came from a cow, and me trying to persuade the nice little Jewish cashier that American currency wasn't as devalued and worthless as Obama clearly wants it to be, I'm pretty sure we offended everyone in the mall grocery store. My bank card wouldn't work, the cashier clearly wasn't interested in Obamanomics, and shoppers were not amused by my gentile antics holding up their day. Fortunately Dominick forked out some shekels for my groceries and I promised to pay him back.
When we made it back to the dorms, Dominique and Ryan saw that I had bedding and decided another jaunt to the mall was in order. After a brief blog post, I could do little more than collapse on my bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.
And it was a good thing I did, too. Because today was a long day. And it all started with a torrential downpour in the dorm stairwell...
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
So Why Are You Going to Israel?
That was the first of about fifty questions that the El Al security officer posed to me at JFK International airport yesterday. The exchange, as I recall, went as follows:
Security Officer: "So why are you going to Israel, Mr. White?" (<--insert thick Middle Eastern accent)
Me: "To study in Tel Aviv. I'm getting a Master's degree and learning Hebrew and Arabic."
Security Officer: "Have you taken Hebrew classes?"
Me: "No."
Security Officer: "Have you ever even attempted to speak Hebrew?"
Me: "No."
Security Officer: "And yet you're going to learn to do so?"
Me: "I hope so. Yea."
Security Officer: "At what school?"
Me: "Tel Aviv Univer..."
Security Officer: "Are you Jewish?"
Me: "No. I'm a Christian."
Security Officer: "Are you bringing any packages to Israel?"
Me: "No. I don't know anyone in Israel."
Security Officer: "How did you get here?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Security Officer: "How did you get to be standing in front of me?"
Me: "You called me over here."
Security Officer: "Funny. I see you've never even left the United States. Why?"
Me: "I'm a fan of America I guess."
Security Officer: "And you chose Israel as your first destination? Curious."
Me: "I've always loved Israel and the Jewish people."
Security Officer: "So you love me do you?"
Me: "In a non-creepy sort of way. Yes."
Security Officer: "I'm sure. Wait right here."
What followed was a nightmare of security procedures that resulted in me and five other American students being personally taken aside and methodically checked and re-checked. We were told that we would not be allowed to go through the TSA security checkpoint or board El Al Flight #002 without a personal escort. Which is precisely what occurred.
Fortunately, I was able to meet several of my fellow MAMEH students through this process. And in a strange reminder of just how small this world is, one of the guys in the Master's program with me, Dustin Carmack, is friends with Rachael Tucker from Auburn. They both interned at the Heritage Foundation together and he pretty much jumped into this thing headfirst for the same reasons I did.
And as a sidebar, he is non-Jewish, a Missouri native, can't speak a lick of Hebrew, and sticks out like a sorethumb due to his height, build, hair color, and southern accent. Basically, he's a tall blond-haired, blue-eyed German who clearly "ain't from around these parts." Between the two of us, we should provide endless amounts of entertainment for our fellow Ulpan (Hebrew) classmates.
Anyway, as we were being frog-marched (much to my amusement) past lines of people waiting to have their security check a girl quipped "Hey! Why do you guys get to go ahead of us?" My response: "We're special like that." Her more impressive response: "Like special ed special?"
Touche unknown female. Touche.
We were the last of the American students to board the outbound flight, which was absolutely crammed with Israelis returning home and with American Jews heading over to visit. And I still haven't the faintest idea what any of us did to deserve such scrutiny. Well aside from Dustin being a giant Aryan...
The flight was a mixture of good and bad. It was just shy of 10 hours. The food they served was delicious and the selection of movies was impressive. I watched I Love You, Man for the second time. Haven't seen it since Mahal and I went a few months ago when it was in theaters. It's still as stellar as it was the first go around.
The problems were obvious from the moment we took off. I wasn't able to sleep due to little leg room and a massive time difference swing. In fact, I still haven't gone to bed. That's about to change. It's 7:35 p.m. here and my eyes are starting to get a bit heavy.
I'll pick back up tomorrow about our arrival in Israel and I'll go into some more detail about the people and events in the coming days.
So far so good. The dorms are actually a lot nicer than I anticipated. So no worries there.
Security Officer: "So why are you going to Israel, Mr. White?" (<--insert thick Middle Eastern accent)
Me: "To study in Tel Aviv. I'm getting a Master's degree and learning Hebrew and Arabic."
Security Officer: "Have you taken Hebrew classes?"
Me: "No."
Security Officer: "Have you ever even attempted to speak Hebrew?"
Me: "No."
Security Officer: "And yet you're going to learn to do so?"
Me: "I hope so. Yea."
Security Officer: "At what school?"
Me: "Tel Aviv Univer..."
Security Officer: "Are you Jewish?"
Me: "No. I'm a Christian."
Security Officer: "Are you bringing any packages to Israel?"
Me: "No. I don't know anyone in Israel."
Security Officer: "How did you get here?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Security Officer: "How did you get to be standing in front of me?"
Me: "You called me over here."
Security Officer: "Funny. I see you've never even left the United States. Why?"
Me: "I'm a fan of America I guess."
Security Officer: "And you chose Israel as your first destination? Curious."
Me: "I've always loved Israel and the Jewish people."
Security Officer: "So you love me do you?"
Me: "In a non-creepy sort of way. Yes."
Security Officer: "I'm sure. Wait right here."
What followed was a nightmare of security procedures that resulted in me and five other American students being personally taken aside and methodically checked and re-checked. We were told that we would not be allowed to go through the TSA security checkpoint or board El Al Flight #002 without a personal escort. Which is precisely what occurred.
Fortunately, I was able to meet several of my fellow MAMEH students through this process. And in a strange reminder of just how small this world is, one of the guys in the Master's program with me, Dustin Carmack, is friends with Rachael Tucker from Auburn. They both interned at the Heritage Foundation together and he pretty much jumped into this thing headfirst for the same reasons I did.
And as a sidebar, he is non-Jewish, a Missouri native, can't speak a lick of Hebrew, and sticks out like a sorethumb due to his height, build, hair color, and southern accent. Basically, he's a tall blond-haired, blue-eyed German who clearly "ain't from around these parts." Between the two of us, we should provide endless amounts of entertainment for our fellow Ulpan (Hebrew) classmates.
Anyway, as we were being frog-marched (much to my amusement) past lines of people waiting to have their security check a girl quipped "Hey! Why do you guys get to go ahead of us?" My response: "We're special like that." Her more impressive response: "Like special ed special?"
Touche unknown female. Touche.
We were the last of the American students to board the outbound flight, which was absolutely crammed with Israelis returning home and with American Jews heading over to visit. And I still haven't the faintest idea what any of us did to deserve such scrutiny. Well aside from Dustin being a giant Aryan...
The flight was a mixture of good and bad. It was just shy of 10 hours. The food they served was delicious and the selection of movies was impressive. I watched I Love You, Man for the second time. Haven't seen it since Mahal and I went a few months ago when it was in theaters. It's still as stellar as it was the first go around.
The problems were obvious from the moment we took off. I wasn't able to sleep due to little leg room and a massive time difference swing. In fact, I still haven't gone to bed. That's about to change. It's 7:35 p.m. here and my eyes are starting to get a bit heavy.
I'll pick back up tomorrow about our arrival in Israel and I'll go into some more detail about the people and events in the coming days.
So far so good. The dorms are actually a lot nicer than I anticipated. So no worries there.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Turn the Page
Shalom!
The inaugural post of Fried Camel will be short and succinct. As I prepare to go to sleep for my last night in the United States, I can't help but think of all the things that have occurred to make this journey a reality.
It is overwhelming to think of all the people who have played a role in this process; friends who have offered support in every conceivable manner, complete strangers who have taken it upon themselves to keep me in their prayers, lifelong family friends who have been more generous than I or anyone could scarcely imagine, parents who despite their fears have been nothing but completely stalwart in their support, and the Lord whose perfect timing has set in to motion all of these things.
I am both honored and humbled by the task ahead of me. Though daunting, I know there can be no outcome short of success.
I'm officially beginning this pilgrimage in Manhattan. And it couldn't be a more fitting location. That's where this began. On a sunny September day nearly eight years ago. Ground Zero to Tel Aviv. From one epicenter to another.
I hope that this blog, over the next two years, serves not just as a conduit for my thoughts, but also as a unique medium with which the Middle East is viewed; one that is educational and informative and effective in putting the pieces of the Long War puzzle together for everyone back home.
Here goes nothing!
Let's roll.
The inaugural post of Fried Camel will be short and succinct. As I prepare to go to sleep for my last night in the United States, I can't help but think of all the things that have occurred to make this journey a reality.
It is overwhelming to think of all the people who have played a role in this process; friends who have offered support in every conceivable manner, complete strangers who have taken it upon themselves to keep me in their prayers, lifelong family friends who have been more generous than I or anyone could scarcely imagine, parents who despite their fears have been nothing but completely stalwart in their support, and the Lord whose perfect timing has set in to motion all of these things.
I am both honored and humbled by the task ahead of me. Though daunting, I know there can be no outcome short of success.
I'm officially beginning this pilgrimage in Manhattan. And it couldn't be a more fitting location. That's where this began. On a sunny September day nearly eight years ago. Ground Zero to Tel Aviv. From one epicenter to another.
I hope that this blog, over the next two years, serves not just as a conduit for my thoughts, but also as a unique medium with which the Middle East is viewed; one that is educational and informative and effective in putting the pieces of the Long War puzzle together for everyone back home.
Here goes nothing!
Let's roll.
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