Israeli Taxi Journal Part 1: The Raving Cabbie

One of the most fascinating experiences in Israel is getting into a taxi. In my very short time living here, I have learned more about this country getting to and from places by cab than any other way. There is so much that is completely unpredictable about the whole thing! You never know how much you are going to pay or if the driver is going to yell at you or be your best friend. You don't know if he really listens to where you want to go, but certainly that if he goes to the wrong place that it is your fault, even though you've warned him and clarified the address multiple times. They have screaming conversations with one another over their radios, drive like maniacs, and are -all- characters.

Tonight, we went to celebrate the birthdays of a few family friends at an Indian restaurant in Tel Aviv. Our taxi ride home provides the best example yet of how unbelievable these encounters can be. It started with a normal conversation about where we were headed. Like most of our conversations, it began in Hebrew and slowly, but surely, turned to English. Then came the music.

Brett and I watched this middle-aged, graying curly-haired man with glasses on his nose crank the volume on some obscure European techno. As he passed other taxi drivers he would honk his car horn repeatedly and speak into his radio. Needless to say, he was on the receiving end of a variety of amusing looks. Speeding through the night on the highway, he raved and danced his way through track after track. The only recognizable song was the finale, and apparently his favorite, the Black Eyed Peas remix of "Time of My Life," which had him moving his whole body and waving his hands in the air in-between playing "air drums."  In fact, he completely missed our destination because, as he happily explained, he was "lost in the music" and had to turn around.

Only as he dropped us off did he continue to speak with us. For whatever reason, he thought that we would find his imitation of British people amusing and proceeded to perform for us. It really was entertaining, despite the fact that it was in no way recognizable as a British accent! He kept saying, "Oh reaaalllly!? This is just looooovely!" in a higher-pitched voice and laughing to himself afterward, repeating, "That's what the British would say!" We laughed, too!

                  -  Darren

Welcome Home

After many years of waiting and preparing, we are finally Israeli citizens. We arrived at Ben Gurion International in Tel Aviv on Tuesday morning aboard a surprisingly smooth group flight of new "olim" (immigrants) organized by Nefesh b'Nefesh. 

Although I was passed out for much of the first half of the flight (I slept through dinner, but, judging by the breakfast, this may have been for the best), the remainder was long in anticipation. It was extremely interesting to be part of a group of people making this step together, though, and looking around, it all became real very quickly.  It began to sink in that we were finally doing what we set out to. Also on the flight were two or three groups of Taglit Birthright participants, which added a unique dimension. At one point, I struck up a conversation with a few girls on the program and found it difficult to express answers to some of their questions which would in any other context have been so easy to articulate. In this situation, though, here they were on their way to a first experience with an incredible place that I, myself, was on my way to making home. I couldn't really find the words, even, to say why I was doing it - I just felt excited for them, like they were about to have an experience that I knew about and they didn't, and that they couldn't possibly know how life-changing it would be. Better yet was that I wasn't alone in how I felt - a Garin Tzabarnik from the Southwest Garin, and a new friend who will be participating in the same ulpan as us, related to how weird it was to have the two groups combined. It really made it that much more meaningful.

Upon landing, we were given flags, hats, stickers, and who knows what else before being taken to process the rest of our absorption paperwork. We were received by a spokesperson of the Ministry of Absorption, given much-needed refreshments, and were then called in individually into an office to sign documents and receive our "absorption baskets." These packages include items that help to make our initial transition to Israeli life a bit easier. Off we went back to the main arrival terminal where we were greeted by people holding signs and singing "Avinu Shalom Aleichem" before we all boarded taxis to our destinations in our new home. 

            - Darren 

The Night Before

I've been anticipating this very post for months now, constantly thinking about what I would include to sum up everything about living in America and my feelings on the immediately impending emigration to Israel. Now, only hours away from boarding the flight to my new home, the night is finally here. It's my last night living in the United States.

Throughout the duration of this blog, we've discussed a lot about the processes involved in emigrating. The best place for me to begin this post would be explaining exactly why I got involved in the process and why I'm choosing to leave my life in America behind to go serve in an overseas army.

I've been exposed to Zionism for a good portion of my life. I've grown up with an ardently Zionistic brother and I've been educated about the State of Israel and what exactly it means to us as Jewish people. Through visits to and learning about the tiny country in the Middle East that an entire religion calls home, I've come to appreciate it as both the foundation of our history and the safe haven for our people.

While I always held this deep appreciation and admiration for Israel close to my heart, it wasn't until a trip to Poland that I made up my mind about my future and what I needed to do to help insure Israel's: become a soldier in the Israel Defense Forces. The sites of the horrors and tragedies the Holocaust created serve as a chilling reminder that evil exists in the world. Unfortunately the Jewish people have faced those evils on more than one occasion throughout history. Now that we have a homeland to call our own, it's imperative that we protect it and defend the Jewish people against any who seek to harm us. It's this very notion that's fueled my desire to pursue this goal and make Aliyah.

It's never easy to leave the comforts of home that have become all too familiar. The routines I've become accustomed to, the college life, for example, will now be replaced with new routines, the army life. The packing is always tedious, the goodbyes always difficult. I'm under no false illusions, a great challenge awaits. I go into it with passion in my heart and a firm belief in a cause. I'm ready to take the challenge.

I've been blessed with a beautiful home, a loving family, an incredible girl, a few best friends as well as many close ones, and the best upbringing I could have ever asked for. I'm turning the pages, closing out an unbelievable chapter in my life. Tomorrow, I'll board an airplane to open the the next one. Tomorrow, I will be realizing my dream.

I'd like to conclude by mentioning how astounding the support pouring in from home and abroad has been. I appreciate it more than I'll ever know how to say!

-Brett

Tomorrow

Tomorrow I fly to Israel. I become a citizen. I follow my dreams. 

I will never forget sitting in my great-grandfather's living room in Johannesburg, South Africa, days before emigrating to America at the age of nine. I remember him grasping a miniature set of the five books of Moses, with his eyes fixed upon me, weeping. Over the course of the next emotional hour or so, he detailed the story of his exodus from Lithuania. Discovering my ancestors, his immediate family, massacred in their own home in a violent pogrom, he decided to find a life for himself somewhere a bit safer for a Jew, he explained. Clutching the texts in his fist, he begged me never to forget who I was and where I came from.

Stories like those of my family members are common in every Jewish household and come from a time before the Jewish state and its army existed. Every society in history lost its tolerance of the Jewish people at some stage. Although extremes vary, my people have been exiled and slaughtered around the world for who they are and where they come from. After the most tragic example of this, the Holocaust, the Jewish state and its army were born to say, "No more!" Israel was and continues to be a statement to the world that the Jewish people will fight for self-determination. It is the declaration that we will not be forced to give up our customs, have our villages destroyed, our stores boycotted, our blood banned, or our bodies burned.  My decision to make aliyah and enlist in the Israeli Defense Forces is a contribution to the message that Jews can now have a say in their own history. 

On an ideological basis, I find it wrong that I would be able to rely on the safeguard of Israel's existence throughout my life without having given what every other citizen gives. While Israel will absorb any Jew into its borders as a citizen on the basis of the Law of Return, and will even rescue endangered Jews and bring them to safety (see: Operation Solomon/Ethiopia), I could never forgive myself for not doing my part for this privilege to be maintained. If one day, at 85 years-old,  I am no longer safe to live in America as a Jewish man, should I be content to fly to Israel, receive my benefits, become a citizen, and live out my years in safety, without having first done my part? I could never.  In my many conversations with friends and family, it has been pointed out to me that there are many things a Jew can do for his people. While I agree and would never discredit anybody or their own contributions, whatever they may be, nothing else I can do for Israel is mutually exclusive with my army service or my living in the land. This is something that I have always wanted for myself and see as my responsibility. I am taking this step to grow, to understand and appreciate the sacrifices we have made to get to where we are as a people, and to give of myself to our collective struggle. 

Tomorrow I fly to Israel. I become a citizen. I follow my dreams.  It has been an intense process to prepare for and the farewells have been getting increasingly more challenging. More than anything, I am excited to finally realize this ambition I have always had. The road ahead is filled with triumphs, failures. smiles, frowns, opportunities,  obstacles, and everything in-between, but I am expecting the time of my life. 

                   - Darren 

P.S. Thank you to everyone who has sent well wishes and kind messages, the support is overwhelming! I can't tell you how much it means. 

A Garin is Born

Garin Tzabar prides itself on its ability to bring together young adults who are compelled to make aliyah and serve in the Israeli Defense Forces. In order for the organization to achieve the goal of successfully providing a framework of success in Israel through a unique group environment, each Garin (usually representative of a specific region or state, like Florida or the Midwest) has to develop and grow as a close-knit “family.” The idea is that the people in your Garin become your brothers and sisters, those people who share your good times, and pull you through the hard. Now that we have completed our seminars (having attended the final one this weekend), it's all starting to come together!

It should first be said that the nature of the seminars allows for people to “come and go” along the way, meaning that someone who attended the first seminar may find that the program doesn't suit him/her or that someone may only discover the program after the process has already started, joining a little bit “late.” Although there has been a core around from the beginning, the Garin now has more than twenty members, with roughly half from the United States and half from Canada (the two sides only meeting this past week!) We are even rumored to be having a few European additions once we arrive in Israel.

Even with the diversity of backgrounds, our Garin has already started to show its potential for fulfilling the “family” environment it is supposed to.

Every family has its jokes. Ours has plenty. There is Frank (not his real name), the janitor of the hotel where we held our seminars, who became as much a part of the group as anyone else. There are the many interesting games that we came up with in our free time (in other words, when we had a minute to breathe), like playing Bocce Ball with glass bowls on a conference room table. There are the fake and outrageous combinations of injuries and ailments we invented for one of our Garinim when he met with an army representative, which have somehow stuck and found their way into every second conversation. We never miss an opportunity to advertise his many “allergies!”

Every family has its roles. Ours has plenty! In fact, individual “family members” often take up many roles. We have the loud and the quiet; the very outgoing and the reserved; the “ideas” people and the “plans” people...we have all types. Although just about everyone is still only finding his/her position in the dynamic group of ours', it's always possible to see who brings what to the table.

Every family has goals. Ours has one big one and many, many smaller ones. It's always fascinating to hear the conversations between different members of the Garin, sharing hopes, fears, and advice about the decisions they are making and this journey the group is embarking on. A family is there for this exact kind of support and encouragement.

Sitting in our circles and our group activities this weekend, or enjoying any of the above and more, it became apparent that this young family formed far from Israel will be the best foundation for our success and happiness there. It may, yet, grow or shrink a small amount, but our Garin, the family we are taking to Israel has been given the start its life and its identity.  

         - Darren 

Another Seminar and First Farewells

"It's what you learn after you know it all that counts."  John Wooden

This weekend, we participated in our second-last Garin Tzabar seminar. At the beginning of my process with Garin Tzabar, I wondered what they would do to keep our workshops interesting as they went along, or how each one could maintain value. After all, four weekends on the same subject seemed a bit much.  Yet, they have all managed to develop the process for me. Israel, the army, immigration, living on a Kibbutz, culture shock, group dynamics, and the political climate are just a few areas we dealt with, in-depth, this time, alone.

In my senior year of high school, as for much of the rest of my life,  I was convinced that I was going to volunteer for the IDF as a lone soldier before college and that I knew the best way to do it. I had read about the army, I had spoken to friends who were serving or had finished their tours, and I had done my research, I thought, enough. I can safely say, three years later, that each new piece of information, discussion, or discovery just teaches you that you cannot know what the experience entails until it arrives. Although Brett and I have "done our homework" and exhausted every resource available to us for the past however-many months and years, the process itself is the only education that matters. That has been true for the period of "getting ready" as I'm sure it will prove, on a much more heightened level, at each new phase.

With that said, Garin Tzabar has been an amazing opportunity to prepare for the change we are about to make in our lives. For some examples of the kind of insight it gives to a prospective lone soldier, this weekend we were able to meet with a representative of the army, who presented us with information on the positions potentially available to us in the IDF. He entertained our curiosities and interviewed us personally with the goal of determining any obstacle which may stand in the way of eligibility requirements for our ambitions in the army. We also interacted with a panel of Israeli government representatives who shared, on a personal level, their experiences in the IDF, and offered words of advice (to the whole group and individually). Like at the other seminars, we had many discussions and group activities, and even had a surprise Saturday night trip to a roller-skating rink. (I didn't know places like that still existed!) It's good for us, too, that we have been able to connect with the people in our group and feel that we are building friendships which we will see us through some of the harder times to come.

The most important and meaningful moment of my weekend, though, was saying "farewell" to my fraternity brothers at my last chapter meeting ever as an undergraduate member of Beta Theta Pi. While I was at the seminar this weekend, I was missing my brothers, who were initiating twelve new Betas and then attending our "Formal," an end-of-the-year celebration which would have been the perfect way to spend quality time with the people who have made my college career everything that it has been. It was one of the first times that i have felt what it would mean, on a personal level, to sacrifice for this dream I have. Brothers called to say how much they missed me and sent text messages and pictures. It was a glimpse of the future, in many ways, for me.

Needless to say, the weekend away only built up to how extremely special my last chapter ended up being. We stayed until three in the morning to part ways with a brotherhood that has meant so much to us. I will never forget the words of support, the recollections of memories together, the feelings and emotions shared, and the outpouring of love I personally received, and it will be a comfort to me and something I carry with me always. It is fitting that I didn't have to say "goodbye" alone, and that there were so many of my closest friends beside me to feel it with me, being sent off on their own personal journeys.

To my brothers, thank you. I appreciate you endlessly and will never be the same for the impact you have each made on my life.       
                                                _ kai _ 

           A "farewell" gift with personal messages and signatures 


And don't worry, while the rest of the week, and those to come, will certainly be filled with bittersweet goodbyes and "see-you-laters," this will be my only post about it! With these first farewells behind me (along with two classes - three to go!) the pressure of tying things up at college has started to alleviate and I will be able to focus on enjoying my short time remaining here.

With the summer, and the date of our aliyah, fast-approaching, Brett and I will be enjoying plenty of vacation time with loved ones in different parts of the world. In very positive news, we have both had our flights approved by Nefesh b'Nefesh and will be arriving in Israel when we had hoped to. Our 'plan" has started to fill in, as well, and looking at the calendar, it's incredible to start to see it all come together. Eagerly anticipating the discovery of which kibbutz our Garin will belong to, we also have another (final) seminar in a few short weeks. There should be lots to tell.

         -    Darren

Next Year in Jerusalem

The past few weeks have moved us much closer to the big move in more ways than one. We're obviously now just over two months away, but we've also taken care of almost all of the small tasks and documents that needed to be submitted and reviewed before any approval for Aliyah takes place. As Darren mentioned before, we've been given our Aliyah visas and now simply need to wait for our free plane tickets to be issued to us, most likely in the next couple of weeks.

During the busy few weeks, we also participated in the second Garin Tzabar seminar. After the first one concluded on such a high note for us and the other participants of the program, there was a high level of excitement on everyone's part for the second. Suffice it to say, the seminar did not disappoint.

While many of the activities were similar to the ones we took part in during the first weekend, this most recent seminar still proved to be a unique experience.

I touched on it a bit in the previous entry, but watching the group dynamics evolve during the structured conversations and activities is still something that amazes me. While the first time we met each other involved a bit of anxious excitement and the participants may have been shy or hesitant in getting to know each other too intimately, this seminar proved to reveal more about each one of my future roommates. The developing bonds of true friendships between different members of the Garin were clear for anyone to see. With each weekend that passes, the emigration draws nearer and the realization that each of the group's participants will become the family and support system we rely on in a new home grows stronger.

Among the more exciting features of the weekend came when an alumnus of the program Skyped in to speak to us about his experiences and answer the many questions all of us had about Garin Tzabar, life in Israel, and the army service. While I've spoken to many lone soldiers in the past, his words focused on our specific circumstances and were enlightening, to say the least. Sometimes they were a bit refreshing and sometimes they weren't exactly what we wanted to hear, but hearing from someone who has walked the path we're currently finding our way down gave us a vital resource to use during the preparation stage and the beginning of our army services.

After the seminar concluded, we went back to our lives outside of the program, taking care of what we need to take care of and spending precious time with those close to us. Included in that time were the Passover seders, our last here in the States. We spent the first night at some new family friends and I spent the second at my girlfriend's family's home. The seders turned out to be exceptionally special, something fitting for our last major holiday in the U.S.A. The time spent with those we love has become increasingly valuable and their support has been a huge help in this massive decision we've made.

On these nights specifically, “next year in Jerusalem” held more meaning than any in the past. This year, we spent Passover with our friends and family, celebrating the escape from slavery and freedom of the Jewish people. Next year, we spend Passover in Israel, defending that very freedom.