Life in Tel Aviv is becoming more routine, which is a kind of thrill all on its own. It’s funny to me that experiencing the excitement and intrigue of a new place, a new country or city, is paired with occasional feelings of utter frustration and inadequacy. It’s very humbling, though. I am, indeed, learning constantly, and so very aware of how much I don’t know…how dependent we become on familiarity to get through the day. Some days at Cornell, I’d feel as if I was on autopilot: wake up, eat this, go to these three classes, sit here, study this, walk this path to get to this meeting, get coffee here…Stuff I could do with my eyes closed, hands tied behind my back. Now, taking the right bus or understanding a sign in a store window makes my day, gives me a feeling of accomplishment. I suppose I’m so drawn to being abroad for this reason—the challenge is so enticing, as aggravating as it can be. And believe me, I have had my fair share of aggravating moments. Matan was teaching me future tense for Hebrew over the weekend, and needless to say it was hard. Like the 6 year old I am, I abruptly got up from my chair, and flung myself onto the grass in agony. But hey, that is what we call the learning curve...
This view I am definitely familiar with--it's what you see from the door of the apartment. You have to go through that blue door to get out of the courtyard thing to reach the street. They just painted that building orange, and I am enamored.
Today was an unbelievably great day at Kav La’Oved—I got there and not surprisingly, given it’s a Sunday, the place was packed. You can barely walk through the office without jamming yourself against random people. I grabbed a calculator and pad of official stationary right away, and starting sitting down with caregivers, listening and taking notes, punching numbers into my blue calculator (I prefer these basic ones over my TI-89 any day…was it an 89?), and eventually writing out letters to their employers requesting compensation. Letters with BOTH English and Hebrew in them…HAH! It felt amazing to generally be able to answer questions, explain their legal rights, and do these calculations on my own, going to my supervisor or fellow volunteer once in a while with an obscure question. But I was flying solo most of the day, and after the 9th or 10th woman I worked with, I lost count. If you read back to last week, about how excited I was to work with two women, you can imagine how exhilarating today was! The pace is really impressive, though it seemed chaotic at first. People are always walking around, sticking their heads in, asking when it’s their turn to describe their case…there’s a buzz for sure, accentuated by all the languages bouncing about. That buzz drives the place, reflects the eagerness of the workers to get what they deserve, and the staff and volunteers to help them do it.
I spoke with an Indian woman who was waiting patiently for a couple of hours. I told her I spent last summer there, and we reminisced together for a bit. She said she liked working here, but not living here—it’s too different from home, the customs and culture still so foreign to her. She plans to leave within 6 months. I told her she must be excited to go home, and she smiled at me, shrugged and said, “Money is not everything for life.” So simple, so basic of a concept. But I couldn’t agree more. I keep thinking about how I meet the most interesting and warm people at these organizations, and how much I admire and respect them. Because, indeed, money doesn’t drive them to do this work…it’s their fundamental belief in the cause. Of course, I’m still in this idealistic stage of youthful faith that justice and passion is all you need to survive. Isn’t it great to be young?! Then again, living in a city for the first time is teaching me a thing or two about the price (quite literally) of urban existence.
The apartment door, from where I took the above picture. I love the fact that it's green and pink amidst all white. Represent. There's the 'ohm' on the door, too...As for other news, September is the Month of Art (ARTLV—clever, no?) for Tel Aviv/Yafo’s 100th Birthday. On Thursday night, Nitzan and I hit up a contemporary art exhibit opening, then the lovely museum of Israeli artist Reuben Rubin, met Matan to see the gorgeous house of famous Jewish poet Bialick (which included free little pastries and champagne), and then went over to the Tel Aviv Museum of Art (quite an impressive collection, if I may say so). A couple Matisses with Degas and Gaugin will make my day any night. And it was all free! Afterward, Matan and I sat at an outside sushi bar around midnight worshiping the exquisite combination of salmon and avocado.
Beautiful Rubin painting of the Knerret, or the Sea of Galilee. Very reminiscent of Chagall sometimes, the whimsy, but it may just be the Jewish association as well.
I’ve uncovered not only a Chinese grocery store (a bit pricey, but they carry the type of noodles my mom buys in Denver), but a corner butcher’s shop bearing the proud sign, “Kingdom of Pork: Factory Price Here.” I have not been, but it’s only a matter of time, really. As for other Asian things, I’ve started going to a yoga class once a week, a 10 minute walk away in a fantastic little studio. And last night, Matan, our old buddy Alon and I met a Japanese guy and a Chinese guy at a bar. They eagerly informed us that their friend is probably the only Taiwanese guy at Tel Aviv University.
Oh, globalization...
And, due to popular demand, more photos!
And, due to popular demand, more photos!
Famished, waiting for our whole pizza to arrive so it can be devoured.Amir looks so happy--Matan and I a little more in anguish.
Check it! Sand camels in lightbulbs! How can you not love modern art?
The beach, and crazy modern architecture, just minutes away. :)
