"Patience, I say, there is no shortcut."

So first things first, my job. My job is... unclear. I am in a new office on a new base near Gedera, about a 40 min bus ride from Jerusalem. Which means it only takes me about 2 hours to get from home to my office, and they let me go home every night. I am working with a group of older male officers, who are incredibly funny and immature in all the right ways, not the annoying ways. It is in an office, which is not at all what I wanted, but its a very nice work environment, and no one asks me to make them coffee. As for what I do, well this week it was mostly reading (finished Call of the Wild and In the Land of Israel by Amos Oz- which I highly recommend), but if I stay there I will be doing some combination of a) teaching english, b) teaching Microsoft Office, and c) making a movie about how you have to make sure to check the air something so that something doesnt happen and the plane doesnt crash. I clearly understood the technical aspects of this movie.

The exciting part of my week was that I got to go on two tours. The first was of my base- there was a group of visiting high school electricians (yes, they learn this stuff in hs here) that came to learn about the types of jobs they could have in the army. So I got to see all the electrical whatnots that they put in the plane and learn about all the smart bombs and cool technology that the Israeli army is using these days. And I got to go near the F-16's which was a little sad, but mostly cool.

The second tour was to the IDF museum and Etzel museum in Yaffo. Etzel is one of the military groups that fought before the War of Independence and eventually joined the Haganah to form the Israeli army. They are also the ones that blew up the King David hotel, and at one point managed to steal 10 tons of artillery from the British army with about 10 men. The IDF museum is in the old Turkish train station and houses basically everything military and historical, from Ben Gurions car (he drove a Ford!) to every tank and gun they could get their hands on. It was kind of crazy learning about each of the Israeli wars (from a non-Diaspora Jew perspective) and seeing the weapons that they were using. The War of Independence really is a freaking miracle- these people were armed with Mexican canons from the 1900's and weapons they designed, like the Davidka, which doesnt really do so much but makes a really big noise. And that was frequently enough to scare away the Arab forces they were fighting. And as we went forward in time through each war and the crazy odds we were against, its really amazing that we still exist.

And then we got to the war on terror, which we are still fighting now and I just started to get angry. Its ridiculous that 60 something years later we still have to fight to be recognized, still have to argue that we deserve to be here, still have to deal with people who want to deny our right to exist.

And the craziest part about it is that while I am getting all worked up and upset about what our tour guide is telling us, all these other soldiers are taking it in stride. True, some of them just arent paying attention, but for the most part, they are just used to it. They are used to the fact that this is how it is and even if they agree that it is unjust and unfair, it doesnt get to them because it is no longer fresh.

I feel like every day I learn something new about Israel or Israelis and every time I am shocked by the strength and endurance that they show. I have heard Americans be accused of being naive and optimistic, and I am beginning to understand why that is a bad thing to Israelis. I see how they can look at us and think we are silly for clinging so dearly to our ideals of fairness and justice for all when they are fighting nail and tooth to stay alive. But I also see how important it is, that there are still those who are young and idealistic and willing to sacrifice for what they believe is right.

I have long found myself torn between the democratic ideals and beliefs I have been raised with and the determination to help Israel survive and remain a Jewish land despite, and in spite of, those who wish to see us destroyed. Because the truth is, they frequently clash. The clash of democracy vs theocracy, of security vs. equality, nationality vs. humanity. And I dont have the answer for it all, I dont have any solutions, and while at times it becomes overwhelming and I just dont want to think about it anymore and dont want to argue about it anymore- I thank God that I have not become complacent. That I still feel the injustices, on both sides of the spectrum, and that I still believe that we can find some kind of equilibrium

Eight Holy Nights

So everyone Jewish knows, that unlike Christmas, Hannukah just doesnt have that many good songs. I mean, the radio stations start playing carols months before Christmas, but there is only one Hannukah song ever interspersed amongst them. Thank God for Adam Sandler.

One would think the situation would improve in Israel, but alas, they only have two or three Hannukah songs that they just put on repeat. And they arent as good as Adam's. Not only that, but since the Christian population in Israel is mostly Arab- there are no Christmas carols either! And I'll admit it, Im still American enough that I kind of miss the whole Christmas cheer- the lights, the songs, the strange men in red inviting children to sit on their laps...

So my friend Ari and I solved both of these problems by coming up with a Channukah Carol to which I am dedicating this email.

On the first night of Channukah, my Saba (grandfather) gave to me- 1 Channukiahhhhh

On the first night of Channukah, the good Lord gave to me- a last minute shuttle that got me to my Rabbi's house in Beit Shemesh just in time to light candles. He also blessed me with a Rabbi and wife who like me so much that I could call them six hours before Shabbat and invite myself to their already crowded house.

On the second night of Channukah, my Savta (grandmother) gave to me- 2 dreidels and one Channukiahhhh

On the second night of Channukah my Rabbi's wife gave to me- a pair of fuzzy toe socks that I got to enjoy for a total of five minutes before her daughters stole them. But it was a really nice thought.

On the third night of Channukah, my Saba gave to me- 3 Sufganiyot (jelly donuts), 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhh

On the third night of Channukah, my Momma gave to me- a giant basket of cookies, chocolates, balloons and a teddy bear. Which was just what I needed, as that day I had returned to Haifa to be processed off my base. I spent the whole day waiting around for the people I had been really excited to have teach me, process the paperwork to kick me off base. It sucked. (The base part, the cookies were actually really good)

On the fourth night of Channukah, my Savta gave to me- 4 potato latkas, 3 Sufganiyot, 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhh

On the fourth night of Channukah, the good Jews of Israel reminded me why I am proud to serve in the IDF. I spent the day in Tel Aviv arguing with somebody important and eventually landing some sort of job that involves English. Neither she nor I really understood what this job is, but they are letting me try it out for a week, starting on Sunday. This also meant I got a Channukah vacation :)

That night, the group I used to volunteer for- Standing Together- sponsored a Channukah party for lone soldiers (those of us volunteering with no parents in the country). I got a free dinner, a lovely package of socks and men's deodorant, and most importantly, I had some charming elderly Americans and adorable South African teenage boys tell me how proud and thankful they were that we were serving in the Israeli army. Also, the man I used to volunteer for was shocked that I had switched sides and was incredibly proud of me. To put it simply, it was really good for my morale.

On the fifth night of Channukah, my Saba gave to me- 5 pieces of gelt, 4 potato latkas, 3 Sufganiyot, 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhhh

On the fifth night of Channukah, Tamara Fine-Skversky gave me the opportunity to see the holiday lights- Israel style. Ari and I went and volunteered where Tamara works, in the depths of Mea Shearim and spent most of the afternoon cutting vegetables (with which they prepare healthy meals for the elderly). We finished just as it was getting dark, and as we walked out into the incredibly charedi (ultra-orthodox) neighborhood, we encountered dozens of religious families standing outside their homes lighting their Channukiahs, singing, and dancing. While the small oil-burning candelabras may not be as impressive as a giant blow up Santa or a block of bedazzled rafters, it was pretty cool to walk through the windy back streets of Jerusalem and see candles burning at every doorstep.

It was also the first night I had someone else to light with, as Ari and I picked up Thai food, and lit together at his apartment. Its way more fun to light with friends.

On the sixth night of Channukah, my Savta gave to me- 6 Sidrei Mishna, 5 pieces of gelt, 4 potato latkas, 3 Sufganiyot, 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhhh

On the sixth night of Channukah, the awesomeness that is Caroline Battle (www.carolinebattle.com) gave me a much needed kick in the pants and I pulled out my art supplies for the first time in too long. I spent the day getting ink on my shirt and glue on my fingers and charcoal, well, everywhere.

The creative streak stuck with me, and that night I made latkas for the first time, smoked up our apartment (just like home!) and forced my roommates to eat them. We lit together, chowed down on oily potato pancakes and applesauce, and exchanged giant pieces of gelt. It was almost like family :)

On the seventh night of Channukah, my Saba gave to me- 7 Maccabis, 6 Sidrei Mishna, 5 pieces of gelt, 4 potato latkas, 3 Sufganiyot, 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhhh

On the seventh night, oh, well, thats right now. On the seventh night my friend Daniel gave me a party. Well its not really for me, its for him, but I get to go, so its kinda like a present. One that I have to go get dressed for now. So I will quickly conclude.

On the eight night of Channukah, my Savta gave to me- 8 pachs of oil, 7 Maccabis, 6 Sidrei Mishna, 5 pieces of gelt, 4 potato latkas, 3 Sufganiyot, 2 dreidels, and one Channukiahhhhh!!!!

Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again

Remember those good old days of emotional turbulence and rollercoaster analogies? Well they made a come back this week.

Sunday started off amazing because I got into the helicopter training course I had been hoping for. I was with two of my friends from the week before and seemed to be with a pretty good group. It was the first time I was in a group with boys, which was different, but pretty entertaining. My mefakeds all seemed pretty cool and were very understanding of my new immigrant and lone soldier status and seemed very ready to help me out. Now each course has to do a Shavua Ra'am, which means spending one week doing kitchen and guard duty for the base. As our mefakeds didn't want to interrupt our learning in the middle of the course, they decided to do this in the beginning- meaning that for this past week I was on kitchen and guard duty.

I started out in the kitchen, which aside for the 5 am wake up, really wasn't so bad. It was mostly cleaning off tables, mopping floors, and occasionally acting as the Pudding Police and making sure everyone only took one. It actually meant I got better food, as I spent most of the week working in the commanders cafeteria. And of course, being the police, I got to eat as much pudding as I wanted.

Our kitchen crew ended up forming a sort of clique, which consisted of the two girls I knew and four boys from our course. They were all 18, and for the most part acted like it, but they were entertaining and fun to hang out with most of the time. Jackson, with the ironically American name, was the only one I really had a problem with. Jackson is from a kibbutz up north that has a lot of American immigrants. This has led him to despise American accents. So every time I spoke, he would complain, and when I yelled at him that I cant help the way I talk and he should stop being an ass, he would proceed to rant about all the horrible American traits like obesity, bad movies, and optimism. He seemed to think that all Americans are afflicted with Valley Girl perkiness. Needless to say, this tended to annoy me, but as he is an 18 year old boy, every retort I made went in one ear and out the other. So I tended to walk away from our kitchen shifts annoyed and frustrated.

This, in addition to a few other incidents, began to give me a taste of what it would be like to spend the next year surrounded by 18 year olds, and the prospect was a little scary. I have met some incredible individuals, but on a group level, especially once boys become involved, the maturity is a little low for me.

So I spent a good part of the week trying to envision a future filled with frustratingly immature friends and ceaseless taunting for the way I speak.

Then Thursday came around, and the switched me to guard duty, which was cool, because I got to spend most of my time doing whatever I wanted and just had to walk around with a gun in case they called me and needed me to fill in for someone. I was a little worried because I had been woken up that morning with a phone call from my mefaked who wanted to confirm that I was in fact 23 years old and volunteering for a year, but as this was not the first time the army called me to confirm facts I had already confirmed 15-20 times, I tried not to think about it too much. When he called me again that afternoon, I became more nervous and the next hour I spent sitting outside his office waiting for him to be ready didn't help. Eventually, I got called into the office of the Mefaked Gaf (who is in charge of all the courses in our area), saluted, and was asked if I knew why I was there. I didn't, and when I shared that with him, he started off his nice little soliloquy with "Well, you are 23" and I knew it was only going downhill from there. He told me that what I am doing is incredibly brave and that he wishes all his soldiers were as motivated as I am, BUT since I am only volunteering for a year, and our course is three months long, it is not worth it to train me. He continued to assure me that it wasn't me, it was my time, but apparently my motivation is not enough, and despite the fact that I am probably the only person in his unit that has ever cried because they had to leave, they kicked me out of the course.

So I am no longer going to learn about helicopters, which to sum up everything that went through my head and came out of my mouth, sucks. They were pretty quick about taking away my gun, and I in turn, was pretty quick about throwing all my stuff in my bag and getting off base before I embarrassed myself by crying in front of even more people. And I once again found myself being sent home by the army, with no idea what I will be doing for my remaining 10 months.

So that sucked a lot, and while I do believe that it will all work out for the best and I hope that I will still placed in a job that I enjoy and find meaningful, I am pretty bummed out about losing the opportunity to work on Apaches. Because that would have been really cool.

I am apparently funny in Hebrew

The exciting news of the week is..... I still dont know what my job will be! Oh, how I love the army!

Turns out that what I thought was supposed to be my first week of training was a Shavua Mi-yoon, a week of more tests and interviews to determine where to put us. By this, I mean we took three tests and had one interview, had an assembly where we learned about the jobs being offered to us and spent most of the rest of the week sitting around on our butts.This was better than last week because this time I was with 23 other girls and got to spend the week being intentionally and unintentionally funny in Hebrew. Still havent gotten over the looks of shock on girls faces when they find out I am 23 either. Thats always fun.

But this week, for once, I was not the only Olah (immigrant) as there were 5 other Russian immigrants with me. This didnt really help me as they would all just speak to each other in Russian, but it was nice to have other people who had more trouble with Hebrew then I did.

As for the jobs, I am pretty optimistic since I totally rocked my tests and interviews. It helps that I am pretty much the only person that wants to be in this part of the army and that two of the tests were on english comprehension. I found out over the course of the week that to people who dont volunteer for the army, the only thing they are interested in when choosing a job is:

1) how close to home they will be

2) how often they will get to go home

3) whether there will be hot pilots around and 

4) what kind of shoes they will get to wear.

This got kind of annoying as all of our "questions" time was wasted arguing about how often they would get to go home and as a result, not all of the jobs were throughly explained. But by the end of the week, I succeeded in picking my top 5 and am sincerely hoping I will get my first choice. So, what are the jobs you ask?

1) Apache technician- This is the hardest job with the least amount of time at home. You have to be able to get up at 2 am to greet the incoming copters, you get to climb all over the helicopter doing all the dirty, grungy, work and you are responsible for making sure they are prepped to fly. This is of course, my dream job, and since you need a good understanding of english (as these helicopters are all manufactured in Arizona) and I am one of the few girls that want this job, I think I have a good chance of getting it. Oh, and I am a girl enough to get excited that they will give me boots on this job.

2) Ammunition technician for the F-15I- This job was presented to us with a video that had fast music and lots of images of pilots and airplanes and basically gave no more other information other than the fact that this job is cool. All of the boys wanted this one.

3) F-16 electrician- I figured the teenagers with electrical experience (because apparently they learn things like this in high school) would get preference over me on this one.

4) Engine technician- Works on the innermost engines, but as you cant get to those when they are in the plane, there is very little next-to-plane time on this one. Plus the girl that pitched it kept talking about how much time you got to spend hanging out at the pool so I figured our priorites were a little different.

5) This was some sort of job that requires understanding how the plane was built. What they do with that information was a little unclear to me, but as it has no next-to-plane time, I dont really want it.

Anyway, that was pretty much it for this week. I am home for the weekend (which will apparently be a frequent occurrence!) and headed back to Haifa on Sunday where I will hopefully be given a job at last. I would of course not be at all surprised if that did not happen or if they decided to send me to pilot's school next as the army makes absolutely no sense. Oh! I forgot to share my story about how they army makes no sense. There was a girl in my room with a fear of planes. Like a debilitating phobia that incapacitates her when she is anywhere near an airplane. And they sent her to the air force technician school.

That is all.