אין לנו ארץ אחרת

Tormented from the inside, with every step I take, a new phase is about to rise out of the dust of my learnings and my time. Yesterday, we got back from the Kotel. My roommates went to the pool, but I wanted to tie loose ends, clean up, and continue packing. It felt like no time, and they were back, and my mission wasn't so accomplished. I kept at it, packing and organizing and reminiscing and all, and I guess the length of my last blog is a testament to my eagerness to pack. But, once that was semi-accomplished, I took a shower, dried my hair, and this was the beginning of the end of EIE; getting ready for our final banquette.

Yeah, surprise, surprise, I made my way into a gorgeous dress my aunt and uncle bought me in December. Despite everybody being dressed-up, I got particular notice for having a pretty gorgeous dress... not to mention even still, I am not known as the girly-girl, but rather a tom-boy, or at least someone who is prepared at all times to run, climb trees or fences when exploring, as well as play a sport on the shortest of notices. My point to be made by this is however, is during our dinner and walk to final banquette performances (funny skits and thank you's to the staff), I realized as random people pointed at my dress, I have been living with them for four months and haven' said a word to them! I guess this shouldn't be surprising because we spend all our time with our group, and on top of that have 120 kids, but it struck me odd at the last day on EIE, I was grasping the fact that sometimes, despite your hopes, you just can't get to know everybody.

Dinner was incredible, and the skits where absolutely hysterical. The thank you's were very sweet and meaningful as well. Then, as the teachers had to leave, I remember walking up to BG, my Jewish History teacher, and once I hugged him I began to cry. I couldn't begin to thank him because I was so upset. I guess it's because BG was the best teacher I have every had, but also, unlike other teachers, he was very concerned and cared so much about his students. And with the constant tiyulim and trips, he was just another part of the clan. I learned so much from him, and respect him greatly. While older brother-like, a father figure, a leader, and role model don't begin to explain his role in mine, and my classmates', lives, he was all of that and more. I guess saying goodbye to him was one of the many, many times I cried throughout these last few days, but I wanted to outwardly express my appreciation and love for BG as my teacher, even though my personal thank you was drowned out with my sorrow and pain for having to leave him, my home, and my new family. I look forward to return to Israel and meet up with him again; hopefully we'll have a few more inciting debates on our history, culture, and religion which, with him, never prove dull.

After, the goodbye's and thank you's, and after the skits and the final banquette came to an end, we all changed into more comfortable clothing and headed down to the after party. We had a talent show which was incredible, so many of us have amazing skills in acting, singing, guitar and piano, I never knew about. Once that was over, and the slideshow was presented, loud music started blasting from the speakers, and our dance party had begun. I stayed there right up until the end of the music, while most people had left. 4am, this morning, the music ended and the after-party was now over, but with no curfew, I set out with Martine to have some bonding time before we left. I also really wanted to walk around my home and see it one last time before we went on our ways out to the diaspora. Really nice, like usual, Martine and I just talked about this and that, and before we knew it, only an hour had passed by and the sky was turning to a subtle pink and lighter shades of dark blue. We eventually walked to the garden and ran into two of our counselors and a bunch of our group looking to do what we set our there for: watch the sunrise. While we wouldn't have minded watching it with them, like our usual selves we strayed a bit, and ended up going to the horse stable to say bye to the horse. She was penned up, so we continued to walk around the stables to the end of the bike path. Here, there are ramps and hills, and where the jutting out piece of land is at its hight looking over the Judean Hills, the sun rising was mixed in with the captivating panorama. We climbed up the last steep biking incline, so we had a perfect, unobstructed, view of the sunrise. Can't tell you why, but after standing there for ten minutes, we finally saw the sun peak its rays from behind, and the song just came to me. The entire rising of the sun was accompanied by me and Martine singing and humming אלי, אלי by Chana Senesh (a grave that I had visited a day before).

As the most beautiful thing I see comes at the same time the most tragic thing occurs, I looked to the sky, knowing, that all I wanted was for time to freeze and be like that beauty I was witnessing forever. With the new-arisen hot Israeli sun, suspended up in the sky by the receding stars and the grinning crescent moon, with the treetops scattered like patches of a quilt adding texture an in depth and colour, the fields of various greens needing to be harvested with the previous days of Shavuot. With this and more, unexplainable to say the least, I witnessed sheer greatness. This is what I experienced in the early morning of today, and the words of Chana Senesh flowed to my lips because, here, was the emotions that flooded me and overwhelmed me:

אלי, אלי

My Lord, My Gd

אלי, אלי

I pray that these things never end,

שלא יגמר לעולם

The sand and the sea,

החול והים

The rush of the waters,

רישרוש של המים

The crash of the heavens,

ברק השמים

The meditations of my heart.

תפילת האדם

After the rising of our sun, Martine and I went back to our rooms, where I finished packing. That morning and night, I had fun laughing, crying, dancing, walking, talking, reminiscing, hiking up to the bike path, watching the sun rise, pack, and sit in the airport, and now to my dismay, the plane. I can't believe it. I checked my luggage at the front, and brought all the emotional baggage that weighed ten times more through security on the plane with me. Before I entered security, I hugged Yoav and Gali, and I told them I'd come and visit them soon. I'll definitely be back. I said bye to Inbaloosh (Inbal) before boarding the busses to go because she stayed back with the kids for the second flight. Boarding the busses to go to the first flight was, it was just beyond words. The amount of crying and hugging and sadness, I don't like goodbyes, and while I might say them often, I really mean see you later. Here, it was terrible, because we became like family and now we are to be scattered across the 50 Sates and the 5 Provinces of Canada. It was like part of you was left behind in Tzuba and in our friends, irreplaceable, knowing that some of these kids you might not see for years or even ever, as life does go on. It's incredible, but with these four simple months, that for kids at home was just an agonizing semester at school, like years past, for us, it was life altering. Completely life altering.

As this morning before breakfast played out, with our last group meeting, we all got a flag of Israel that written on it said, "אין לי ארץ אחרת" and I couldn't have believed it to hold any more validity for it is so correct that, "I have no other land." To imagine how much I have grown. I would of thought this was a foolish statement said by zionist fanatics or the pious orthodox who still believe they are in complete exile. But today, I see that through out history, and through out time, he have had countries to build our houses on and raise our families, and teach our values, but nothing, nothing will ever compare to owning your own land, not by paper, but by the word of Gd, and the settlements by physically working the land, and even just simply because it was our fathers' and mothers' land where our holiest stories took place. To this statement I hold true: "אין לי ארץ אחרת", and with these words, I will end my last blog in Israel with two things Yoav found and read to us:

Wear Sunscreen,
If I could offer only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at the photos and recall how fabulous you really looked at the time. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing gum. Real troubles are apt to blind-side you at 4 p.m. on an idle Tuesday.

Do one thing daily that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Remember compliments, forget insults.

Keep old love letters. Throw away old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't know what they want to do with theirs.

Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself or berate yourself too much. Your choices are half chance, like everybody else's.

Dance.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone.

Be nice to your siblings. They're the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. The older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Travel.

Accept these certain truths:
Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And then you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen

________________________________________

Is Israel really that bad? ~ Yair Lapid

If the state of education is so bad here, academia is in a freefall, and the brain-drain is in full force, how do you explain the fact that our high-tech sector is so successful, that the number of scientific publications is the highest in the world per capita (just like the number of patents,) and that we invented the disk-on-key and cell phone text messages?

If we don’t care about anything anymore and have no interest in what’s happening in the country, how do you explain the fact that Rabin Square gets filled up by protestors five times a year, that the evening newscasts are the most watched TV shows, and that most arguments around here are about politics?

If the public lost its faith in the IDF, our mutual responsibility is fading, and the number of draft-dodgers is skyrocketing, how do you explain the fact that all of us are so preoccupied with the fate of our captives, and that the round of recruitment that enlisted to the IDF immediately after the Second Lebanon War broke an all-time record after 70.8% of new recruits asked to join combat units?

If government corruption is everywhere and the law is a joke, how do you explain the fact that the son of a former prime minister is in jail, the former Labor minister was recently convicted over a bribe, and that our prime minister is constantly under investigation?

If our press has became silly like in America, yellow like in England, and irresponsible like in Italy, how do you explain the fact that newspapers last week cast aside all our supermodels to make room for publishing a chapter from David Grossman’s new book?

If the economy is collapsing, the concern for the poor is constantly declining, and the Treasury has been taken over by a gang of neo-conservatives who do whatever they feel like, how do you explain the fact that the number of poor Israelis has declined for the second year in a row, that the Wisconsin Plan appears to be a success story, and that not even one person has died of hunger in the history of our country?

If every ultra-Orthodox family has 10 children and more people are becoming religious, how do you explain the fact that the ultra-Orthodox have remained 8% of the population, exactly as they were when Israel was established?

Life expectancy high, unemployment low

If the Russian immigrants are failing to integrate, prefer to live in their own ghettos, read Russian newspapers, watch Russian television, and shop at their own shops, how do you explain the fact that all of them learned Hebrew, that their children are joining the IDF en masse, that about 80% of them own their apartment (a higher percentage than the general population), and that they show no intention of returning to Moscow?

If our youths are violent and detached, drink too much alcohol, and only care about going to clubs and stabbing each other, how do you explain the fact that close to 250,000 children are members of youth groups, and that tens of thousands choose to embark on a year of social service or join groups that help the needy?

If our immigration police is facing collapse because of the burden, the Agriculture Ministry brings here masses of Thai workers, every elderly Israeli has a Filipino nurse, and thousands of Palestinians come here to work every day, how do you explain the fact that unemployment in the first quarter of the year dropped to 6.5%, a 15-year low?

If our healthcare system is collapsing, our doctors are leaving, and extra health insurance coverage costs a fortune, how do you explain the fact that our per capita national expenditure dedicated to healthcare is only 7.8% of our GDP, roughly half of what it is in the US, and only two thirds of what it is in Germany and France? And how do you explain the fact that life expectancy here is higher than in all the above mentioned countries?

If President Bush is the best friend Israel ever had, Italy’s Berlusconi declares that he is warmly pro-Zionist, France’s Sarkozy decided to include Holocaust studies at every school in the country, Germany’s Angela Merkel ended the support for the Palestinian Authority and visited the Knesset to tell us how much she loves us, and Tony Blair appointed himself as a peace ambassador, how do you explain the fact that we feel like everyone hates us?

If our personal safety is declining, crime is skyrocketing, and we no longer can leave the house for fear that someone will rob us, how do you explain the fact that in a particularly broad national poll 81% of Israelis said that they are satisfied with their neighborhood and 75% said that “they feel safe when they walk alone on the street at night?”

If girls here have bad taste in clothing, every third girl gets a piercing in her belly button, half of them are tattooed like an Irish sailor, and the sweat wipes off their makeup three minutes after they leave the house, how do you explain the fact that every tourist who arrives here immediately declares that Israeli women are the most beautiful in the world?

If we have turned into a bunch of uncultured barbarians who yell on the street, swear, show contempt to academia and the arts, and only watch television, how do you explain the fact that we are number one in the world when it comes to museums per capita, number two in the world when it comes to reading books, that the percentage of Israelis who go to the theater (41%) is double the percentage of those who go to soccer games, and that one of four Israelis attended a classical music performance this year?

If we suffer so much, a plane ticket on sale is only $240, and Canada is happy to let us in, how do you explain the fact that we’re still here?