A few things I've been thinking about

Israeli health systems:
On Sunday I went to the public health clinic located in Kanyon Wolfson, because I had a terrible cold and sore throat and wanted to make sure it wasn't strep. It wasn't. Actually, I don't know. The doctor didn't do the test. He spent about two minutes total with me. I dismissed it, assuming that it was just because I came during clinic hours and there were a lot of people waiting. But Tuesday, I felt even worse, kept hacking, and my chest was tight. I made an appointment, figuring there wouldn't be many people waiting he'd he'd be able to devote more time to me. He spent four minutes with me. At least he diagnosed me with bronchitis and gave me some disgusting medicine. Moral of this story: I miss doctors back home. The personal attention is always really nice, especially when you don't feel well. Second moral of the story: Bronchitis is not pleasant. I've missed a week of school and two midterms.

Places I would like to see/Things I would like to do before leaving Jerusalem:
Israel Museum-we spent a little bit of time there on Pilgrimage, but I'd love to be able to spend a whole day there, going at my own pace. Debbie wants to go with me, we just have to figure out a time.

Kotel Tunnels-I've heard that the admission is expensive, so maybe I'll wait for when my parents come, and we can go together (...and they can pay for me.)

Museum on the Seam-I pass this museum on the way to and from school everyday, and have always been tempted to say to the cab driver, "let me out here," but then I think about all the work waiting for me back at base. I read something about the museum and its mission the other day which just got me more interested in it.

More of the Old City-due to security regulations, when we first got here we weren't allowed to go to the Old City for a while, and I think that led to it falling off peoples' radar screens. Before I came on Nativ, I envisioned myself spending entire days wandering the narrow streets, buying falafel at the amazing place above the Cardo, haggling with shopkeepers, and poking my head around each corner in search of the next piece of magic that I associate with this place. However, I can count the number of times I've been to the Old City on just one hand, and almost each time was just the Kotel.

Mount Herzl and Yad Vashem- Mount Herzl is one of those places that I think one just needs to experience by themselves. Same for Yad Vashem. However, both places require a significant portion of time, as well as a pricey cab fare...If you haven't been able to figure it out yet, time and money are things I'm both pretty short on.

Mea Shearim-I've had a few opportunities to go already, but the ultra-Orthodoxy aspect just keeps scaring me off. Some friends of mine have had bad experiences there because they weren't dressed modestly enough, but I've got an irrational fear that even if If my three "areas" (elbows, collarbones, and ankles) are covered, they'll be able to see through the disguise and harass me. Whatever, I just need to get over it.

Beitar Yerushalayim soccer game-Most of the games are on Shabbat, and the ones that aren't are usually when I'm busy...but if there's an opportunity...

The Jerusalem Time Elevator-39 shekels...39 shekels...39 shekels...I'm eventually going to cough it up. (That's about $10 American...but I can buy dinner for a week with that!)

American holidays:
Back in America, the day after Thanksgiving was when I began my annual Christmas-gripes. There was no getting away from it. Christmas music, signs, decorations, etc...it was EVERYWHERE, and I hated it. I couldn't even get away from it at school, no matter how "non-denominational" they tried to be about it. Putting one little Menorah on a table in the Atrium next to the 25 foot "Non-Denominational Holiday Tree of Lights" or having a "Traditions Assembly" before marching through the halls singing the "IDEO" song about Jesus was never okay with me. Every time someone wished me a Merry Christmas, I had to restrain myself from making a snide comment back, even though I know that they were just trying to be friendly.

A lot of people here are complaining about the lack of "holiday cheer" around Jerusalem, and most of Israel for that matter (Bethlehem is quite a Christmas center this time of year, however). Some people have made comments along the lines of "I hated it when I was there, but now I realize how much I really missed it." I don't feel that way at all. I enjoy not having this holiday shoved in my face every which way I turn.

However, I've realized what it must be like for the non-Jewish residents of Israel every time a Jewish holiday comes 'round, in fact, what it must be like for those in Jewish areas every time SATURDAY comes around, and they cannot use public transportation or even go to the corner grocery store.

And at the same time, the one teensy tiny thing I miss about Christmas is that it turned Hanukkah into a bigger holiday than it really is. Not that I advocate consumerism, but it's nice to hear that 1 Hanukkah song thrown into the 30 Christmas ones, to give and receive presents, to have Hanukkah parties, and so on. The only sign of Hanukkah I've seen here is that all the bakeries are selling sufganiot, jelly doughnuts. And they're not that good. Geez, that's one thing I never thought America would be better at.


All the world's a stage...
When I went to auditions for West Side Story at school, I was intending to sign up for something backstage, and then to leave. A friend who went on Nativ last year told me that the play was the best part of her year, and I should, under no circumstances, miss out on it. However, at auditions, a few friends convinced me to try out, and lo and behold, I got the part of a Jet. Then again, everyone who tried out got a part, mine consisting of two lines:

Line 1: Riga diga dum!
Line 2: But if they knives, or guns...

A few weeks later, a friend of mine dropped out of the play, and my talentless self got the part of Baby John. Like...an actual part. Actual lines. My last stage performance was in 8th grade at Schechter. We did Snow White, and of course as it was a Schechter production, everyone had to have a part. The script was changed and a bunch of "sidekicks" to other characters were added in. Was I Snow White's sidekick? No. A dwarf's sidekick? No. I was the sidekick to the woodsman. Yes, the woodsman who takes Snow White out into the forest but can't bring himself to kill her. I held the plastic knife.

So, I recognize that I am in no way ever going to be an actress, but I'm glad I'm in the play. I've gotten more confident and am having a lot of fun with my part. The people in the play are really awesome. And of course, what can beat having the line in the Office Krupke song: "Glory Osky, that's why he's a jerk!"

New idea...

Instead of sending out update emails once a month and then just copying and pasting them here with some pictures (whenever the website decides to let me do that), I've decided to post more frequently here. I'll still send out the update emails, but if you want to read some more of what I'm doing, you can just visit this site on a regular basis.

Dear friends and family,

As I sent my last email update to you a month and a half ago, the state of Israel was beginning to shut down for Yom Kippur. The airplane hangars at Ben Gurion International Airport were closed. Radio stations went off the air, TV stations broadcasted nothing, not even an “Off the Air” screen. Not a single bus or car was seen in the street, and traffic lights were turned off. An eerie silence descended over the land that has been my home since September. Almost every single Jew (the vast majority in Israel fast each year, no matter how religious they are the rest of the year) ate their last meal, sipped their last glass of water, and dressed in all white to welcome the holiest day of the Jewish calendar.

After going to services that night, a friend and I walked up and down Emek Refaim, a normally busy street filled with shops and restaurants. Because of the downhill slant of the street, I could see hundreds of people talking to each other, their white clothing creating a startling contrast against the darkness of the night, with the hills of Jerusalem beyond them. Young children rode their bikes over the smooth asphalt of the street that the 364-day-a-year sidewalk doesn’t provide. People sat in the middle of the road, lay down in intersections, just talking to each other and taking the opportunity to reflect on their place in the world.

For the closing services of Yom Kippur, I went to the Kotel (Western Wall; a surviving remnant of the walls around where the ancient Temple stood). There were dozens of groups praying, representing many religious beliefs and ethnicities. Different melodies mingled with each other in the cool air, and as the sun went down, shofars (an instrument made of a ram’s horn) began to blow their awe-inspiring notes. Candles were brought out for the Havdalah ceremony, and as soon as the candle’s flame was extinguished in a cup of wine, food began to appear everywhere, from backpacks, pockets, and boxes. People shared their own food to hungry strangers, and offered those who lived far away rides home.

A week later, during the intermediate days of the Sukkot holiday, we set out for three days in the desert. I envisioned soft, smooth sand dunes, cactuses, and oases, but that was far from what I encountered. We were driven deep into Machtesh Ramon (a machtesh is a geological formation unique to Israel-it’s like a canyon, but carved by wind instead of a river) to began a 20-something mile hike. I know that doesn’t sound like that much, but when every step you take is over a different type of ground, it’s not plain walking. Sharp rocks, hundreds of tiny pebbles, dirt, caked sand, sucking sand, and so on-not a single step was over any flat, hard surface.

The first day wasn’t too bad, there wasn’t much going up or down. We pitched tents (although most of us slept outside under the stars), made dinner, sang songs, and learned how to make pita in a campfire (it was pretty much a failure though). The second day, however, was torture. We had packed up camp, eaten breakfast, prayed the insanely long service that goes along with Sukkot, and climbed a mountain…all before 9 am. After scaling the mountain, I looked around at the vast desert that surrounded me, congratulated myself on this amazing accomplishment, but suddenly I heard our guide behind me, pointing to a spot far off in the distance, many mountains away and saying “that’s where we’ll stop for lunch.” The rest of the day was filled with traversing these mountains, each of which seemed taller than the next. We scaled rock cliffs without harnesses, climbed up and down mountains, that to me, looked like something a superhero wouldn’t even be able to do. My shoes began to rip open from the sharp rocks, each of which jabbed into my foot with incredible force, and I made a mental note to myself, to NEVER, EVER, use 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 rubber shoes from Target for hiking. That night, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the sweatshirt I was using for a pillow. The next day featured one humongous mountain made up of about 4 or 5 smaller ones. Each time I reached the summit of one of these mountains, I would look up, and groan, realizing how much more lay in front of me. My right arm was in a sling from an injury the previous day, and well, one-armed mountain climbers aren’t the most efficient. I drifted to the back of the group, and realized that one of the fittest guys in my group was there. I asked him why he was hiking at the back, when he could easily be at the front. He replied, “Here, I can take all the time I want to look around me. I’m not in the front, surging ahead, trying to get there first. Here, I can appreciate where I am and why I’m doing this.” I spent the rest of the day at the back, and while I didn’t get to any of the rest stops first, I took the opportunity to look at the magical beauty of the desert, which surrounded me every which way I turned. When everyone had reached the end of the hike, we sat down to eat and talk about the previous three days. We shared experiences of newfound friendships, inspiring experiences, and the gratefulness we had at being able to get so much closer to each other. However, I must admit that my favorite part of the trip was the ride back to Jerusalem: We stopped at a gas station, where we could wash 3 days of dirt off our hands, use real bathrooms, and indulge in iced coffee from Aroma, an Israeli coffee chain that is about 3 million times better than Starbucks. We stopped for dinner at the Masada Youth Hostel, which is literally right under the mountain which sheltered a group of Jewish zealots from the Romans thousands of years ago. At the youth hostel, we jumped into the pool with our clothes on, and enjoyed a dinner that we had no part in making.

After the holidays ended, the real semester at Hebrew University started. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a fan of school and homework after being such a responsible person for the past 19 years of my life (yup, I had a birthday October 19, complete with 3 parties-although one of them was a surprise party that I missed because my friends didn’t figure out the whole how-do-we-get-Nehama-there thing), but no worries, I know that I need to do well in order to receive credit for my classes here. I’m taking two mandatory classes: Freshman Writing, and Hebrew. Freshman Writing is quite possibly the most worthless class I’ve ever taken as I’ve already passed out of this requirement at the University of Maryland TWICE, through AP scores and SAT scores. Hebrew, on the other hand, is helping me a lot. It’s so fun to be learning the language in Israel, which is functioning as one large classroom for me. For example, I learned the word “handassah” which means “engineer,” and on the way home, I realized the street we were on was named “Chayal Handassah,” Engineer Corps, in honor of the engineers in the army. This is only one small example-I’m using my newly learned Hebrew everywhere I go. Enough people in Israel speak English that I could go through the year without once speaking Hebrew outside of the classroom, but that would be a waste of an amazing experience, and I’m trying not to let it pass me by. My other classes are History of the Modern Palestinians, International Law, and Political Communications. The latter is my favorite-the professor is a journalist and a special advisor to many Israeli political figures, and is always throwing in a tidbit about the eating habits of one politician, or the affairs of another.

A few weeks ago, I went to a memorial rally in Tel Aviv for Yitzhak Rabin, the Israeli prime minister who was assassinated 11 years ago. The Hebrew date of his assassination coincided with the English date for the first time, and 100,000 people showed up. There were speakers and performers, and at the end Shir La’Shalom (A Song To Peace) was played. This song, which Rabin sang 11 years earlier at the peace rally where he was assassinated, are his last recorded words. Ironically, the song tells of the impossibility of bringing someone back from the dead, and how necessary it is to be active in the quest for peace. Literally just one minute after the rally ended, the skies opened up, dumping so much rain that everyone was soaked through to their underwear in less than three seconds flat. The streets of Tel Aviv turned into rivers, and it was worthless to even try and avoid puddles-the entire city had turned into one big one. Although running through all this rain to the bus (and sitting on the bus soaking wet for 45 minutes) wasn’t a pleasant experience, the rainstorm was a welcome occurrence to a country severely lacking water.

The week after the Rabin rally was filled with “dialogue” about the upcoming Gay Pride Parade… “dialogue,” meaning ultra-Orthodox, many Christians, and many Muslims joining together (one reporter joked it was the first time these three groups had worked together on something) to try and stop the parade, which was to take place at the park right outside of my dorm. Due to many security alerts, a compromise was finally reached where the format was changed to a rally in a closed stadium, and took place this past Friday, with no casualties (people have been killed in the past). In America, we’re so used to the concepts of “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,” and “live and let live” that it’s hard to imagine free speech being restricted in a democracy. But the political and religious aspects of Jerusalem, as well as the current situation in Gaza (many soldiers and policemen were occupied there and couldn’t protect the proposed open parade route), deemed the limitation of free speech necessary in order to protect people.

Speaking of Gaza…I didn’t want to address this issue at all, but to ignore it would be unfair. I’m not going to give my opinions on the situation, these updates aren’t a political forum for me, but I would like to say something many of you know already: The American media is biased against Israel. You cannot depend on American news sources to get the correct facts about what is happening in the Middle East. After comparing some news sources from the US with Israeli ones, I was appalled at the discrepancies. I’m not going to go into the specifics of the situation, but if you want more information, www.haaretz.com, www.jpost.com, and www.ynet.com are three Israeli newspapers with online English editions.

Now to address safety-all of this is happening in Gaza, which is nowhere near me. The Israeli army is one of the best in the world and has caught every would-be suicide bomber that has tried to enter Israel in the past half a year, if not longer. If there ever is a situation with the slightest potential of danger, we receive text messages on our cell phones alerting us to the situation, and telling us that there will be no free time until further notice-this has only happened twice since we got here, and both alerts were over within an hour.

In other news-I’m a Jet in the production of West Side Story here. If you’re going to be in Israel the last half of December, and would like tickets to the show, let me know ASAP, so I can buy them, they’re going to be sold out soon. And if you’re going to be in Israel at all over winter break, let me know!

If you’ve got any comments, questions, constructive criticism, thoughts, opinions, etc., I’d love to hear them, shoot me an email. Also feel free to forward this to anyone who might be interested in it, they can then email me and ask to be put on the list. For those of you who checked out www.nehamdoesisrael.blogspot.com and were disappointed with the lack of pictures, don’t worry, I managed to figure it out and will have pictures up soon! (However I can’t find my camera, so all the pictures will be old ones or stolen from other people for a while.)

B’ ahava m’yerushalayim (with love from Jerusalem),

-Nehama Rogozen-

Test #2...I think I figured out how to get pictures on here! :)

This picture is from the Temple Mount, where the Holy Temple stood about 2000 years ago. Contrary to popular belief, the Dome of the Rock (the dome in the picture...obviously), is not the same as the Al-Aqsa Mosque, which is on the outer perimeter of the Temple Mount. The Dome of the Rock is situated above where Abraham is believed to almost have sacrificed Isaac, where God supposedly created the world from, and from where Muhammad supposedly ascended to heaven.