my super tremendous guide to being a care-less (err care-free) traveler

After eleven months and four countries (I'm going to go ahead and count Greece) it is my duty and heartfelt privilege to impart my invaluable wisdom on how to be a suave and sassy traveler, such as myself. Now, dear readers, don't be phased by the fact that almost everything in my original backpack has either been lost, broken, stolen, eaten by wild animals, or run over by a bus. I assure you that my advice is of the utmost quality, and should you keep these pointers in mind, all of your adventures henceforth will be blessed and guided.

1) You are never alone 
I mean this in the least creepy and most comforting way possible. When you find yourself on the wrong bus, wandering aimlessly in Tel Aviv, or even just feeling plain lonely in your hostel in Rome, remember that there is always someone to help you! I remember the first night I arrived in Italy, I stood dazed in the bustling train station in Florence trying to decode my (entirely Italian) train ticket. An elderly man standing a few yards away took one look at me and said, "Empoli? Platform four, don't forget to stamp your ticket." How he knew where I was going ( heck, I didn't even know ), I'll never be sure. The point is, if you are open to help from unexpected sources, help will always find a way.

2) Being small gets you free stuff!
Like cheese! And sweaters! If you're not small yet, Id recommend starting at least 2-3 months before your scheduled departure.

3) Use your DGPS (Divine Guidance Positioning System)
Seriously, this is the way I traveled most of my trip. I would set my DGPS to whatever I was looking for ( a bead store, falaffel, the Colusseum, etc) and let my intuition do the rest. Yes, it takes a lot of trust, but believe me, you'll always be in the right place at the right time.

4)Travel Towels
Rock.

5) The Universe provides (.. and so do your parents .. )
Need something? It will come. When I decided I needed a sleeping bag, the next day a man at the EFT retreat offered me his to keep, without me even needing to ask! And when I decided I needed a new camera for India, I found a Canon Powershot at the 'free' market at the farm on which I was working. And clothes? Don't even get me started. The trick here is that you have to be just as willing to let stuff go as you are willing to let stuff in. Abundance flows, that means that sometimes you must release in order to receive.

6) Laugh it off
Take everything in good humor - this applies especially to travel in India. Getting lost, hassled, and stared at is all part of the game. Keep your spirits light, and try not to nit pick the culture.

7) Water and Chocolate
These are your two most important travel companions.

8) Pack at least one thing you actually like to wear
Unwittingly, I showed up in Italy with a backpack full of work clothes and a pair of hiking boots. There's nothing fun about a night out in Rome when you're covered in mud and smell like cow shit.

9) Self maintenance days
Every few weeks, take a day off from traveling and treat yourself. Go all out; do your laundry, clean your ears, clip your nails, the whole shebang. Self maintenance days are also a great excuse to eat extra gelato.

10) It's not stealing..
It's permaculture. It's all about utilizing your resources to the fullest. So I'm staying at your house, and you've got some extra toothbrushes... Imma take one. I'll go ahead and refill my shampoo while I'm here too. Napkins from a restaurant? More like extra toilet paper for later!

A short list, but hopefully enough to get you started.

I'm fairly rooted in Chico at the moment, but I think I'll keep the blog going; a place to dump some extra thoughts. Be on the look-out.

On being Jewish.

Why are Jews so weird?

This questions seems to be stalking me lately, lurking in the undertones of conversation, and pouncing in my most vulnerable moments. Say, when I tell someone, "My mom is a Rabbi." "Oh wow," he'll reply, "so maybe you can explain to me why Jews act the way they do?" I brace myself. I can feel my stomach lurch and my shoulders tense as my mind scrambles to gather a list of 'because's'. He continues, "Why are they so self-segregating and exclusive? And with so many strange rituals, what's so special about them?"

I find myself on the defensive. My mind is so jaded with antisemitic-defense-mechanisms that I can barely think clearly. You see, I've always hated this question and how it conjures images of early Nazi Germany, making me think, "it all started with comments like this." Only recently, though, have I actually had the space to give this question some serious consideration.

A few months ago, I was discussing Judaism with my uncle, David. "I'm not religious," he told me, "but I am very much a Jew." This puzzled me; how can you be one and not the other? Indeed, I had been faced before with the conundrum of the secular-Jew, but never quite so blatantly. David's not religious, but he still hangs mezoozot on all his doorways. David's not religious, but he still says kiddish and keeps Shabbat. David's not religious, but, as he told me, he was, "born a Jew, and always will be a Jew."

What irks me the most, though, is that .. I agree with David. There is something about me that is inherently, utterly, and undeniably, Jewish.


Phew, step one is completed. I admit it, I am a Jew.
Step two: Jews are weird, accept it.

On my way to the Passover Seder I traveled by bus through Jerusalem. Every twenty yards stood another group of Hasidim dressed in full black, circled around a bon fire, burning untouched loaves of bread. The same scene rolled passed the bus window over and over like an unedited film of some strange Pagan bread sacrificing ritual. Of course, they were all just clearing their homes of any trace of "hametz" before the Passover holiday. I mean what's so weird about that, Arielle? You've been doing this your whole life, haven't you? But now, safely removed from the situation, sitting as a spectator on a bus, I could see this tradition from another angle. And, well, it was just plain freaky looking.

That evening, I spent the Passover Seder with my friend, Ido's, family. His family was unashamedly more interested in eating dinner than any part of the Passover ceremony. We hustled through the fifteen steps of the Seder in a fury as I scurried to translate (first from Hebrew to English, then to something that would make sense to a reasonable human being) what was happening to my friend, Jane, who had never been to Seder before. "Okay, so there was this guy named Moses.. and ten plagues... and now you dip that parsley in the salt water... recline to the left while you drink that .. oh and there's something about four children ... and we hide that piece of matzo. and," wow.. this stuff is weird. I felt like an actor who, having memorized her lines, was now reading through the script for the first time.

As shocking as it was to finally see Judaism as it looks from an objective stance ( kind of crazy, that is )  Admitting that we are unusual is not so difficult for me, what really gets me is, why are we this way? And why are we afraid to be this way in coexistence with others? Jews are, in my experience, largely  self-segregating. We cling so tightly to the notion that we are fundamentally different than everyone else; that, somehow, our Judaism defines us beyond the boundaries of religious practice, and, therefore, we can only hope to be fully understood by one another. Still, this answer feels like an unfounded excuse to me. It addresses the 'why', but only by evading a deeper, and more conclusive, truth.

Well, where better to explore my conflict with Judaism, than in the much more heated setting of the Palestinian/Israeli conflict.

Recently, I volunteered for an organization called Eco ME located inside the West Bank, just outside of Jericho. Eco ME is a center open to all Israelis, Palestinians, and internationals who are willing to gather in the common spirit of respect for one another and the earth. Eco ME is located, literally and figuratively, on a junction between languages, cultures, and politics; yet, it is able to maintain a peaceful atmosphere because its founders are committed to creating a space built on trust and not fear.

While I was there, they gave a presentation about the organization to a church group visiting from Germany. "Why are Jews so strange?" a man asked Ilana, one of the founders of Eco ME. He continued, "I have a theory that they are seeking revenge. That, somehow, they want to pass on their pain to others," he spoke clearly of Palestinians in this case. Ilana sighed, and smiled uncomfortably before answering, she clearly hated this question as much as I did.  "I don't believe they are seeking revenge," she replied rather calmly, "I believe they are acting on the only thing they know." She continued to explain that Jews grow up on stories of oppression, from the Passover telling of how 'we' were slaves in Egypt to Haman's decree to kill all the Jew's in Persia to the destruction of the Holy Temple(s) in Jerusalem. Indeed, I can attest that I have been a fed of diet of victim stories from a very young age.

Thus far, this is the best reason I have found to justify the 'why' of 'why are Jews so weird?'; our behavior is simply a product of the ritualized telling of the tale of the victim. We have absorbed this narrative so fully into our religious practice that it spills over and quickly becomes a defining characteristic of the Jewish mentality, religious or not. As a friend of mine once put it, Israel is the only nation who's anthem is sung in a minor key. It is only natural then, that with this mind-set, Jews would become self-segregating in search of safety. Which, when viewed from a third party, reveals a people that seems suspicious, uninviting, and strange.

Yet, somehow, I feel unsatisfied with this answer. Even armed with this explanation, I still feel powerless to the question at hand. Perhaps it is because it is not mere justification that I seek. Rather, I feel that if I am "always going to be Jewish," as my uncle David said, then it's time I start being a better representation of what that means.

I intend to show, through the example of my own behavior, that Jews are no longer the self-pitying victim. Instead, what connects me to my fellow Jews, and likewise to all other people, is a love and ritual care for the earth, myself, and others. My spirituality transcends the boundaries of the old narrative, and my desire for well-being and peace for everyone is stronger than any will I have to safeguard my old patterns.

And, if it all sounds a bit peculiar, it's OK, I'm Jewish.

On the Shvil again

Following the Green Apprenticeship at Kibbutz Lotan, I set off on a two week backpacking adventure with Max and Adam, friends from the course. Max and I started the first week exploring the Negev with a visit to the Ramon Crator (Maktesh Ramon) and Ein Gedi. 

Even after two months spent living in the Arava Desert ( the second most arid in the world ), I was still captivated by the beauty of the desert landscape. There is nothing like an expanse of rock and sand to make you appreciate life. I felt in awe of every brittle shrub which seemed to ignore the laws of nature and grow without the presumed prerequisites of soil and water. 

 

 

 

I also felt in awe of things like Ibex chilling in this playground

You can do whatever you want, but for god's sake, DO NOT PICK THE FLOWERS 

It's views like this that make me sigh, " Damn, I love my life " 

Multicolored sands inside of the crater 

After much searching, Max and I found the famed ammonite wall, these were seriously impessive. 

Max being an ammonite? 

What is the plural of Ibex?

Ah the Dead Sea, a watery desert masquerading as an oasis..

We did find a real oasis though, in the form of the Ein Gedi Springs

We wore sunscreen

And looked cool

I recall swimming in this same pool twelve or so years ago, felt good to be back

Our sweet campsite at Ein Gedi

sunrise over the salty sea

Morning meditation 

 After Ein Gedi, Max and I travelled north-bound. We met up with Adam and started hiking from Kibbutz Dan, the official start of the Shvil Israel or Israeli National Trail.

My studly hiking buddies

Ready to hike!

If I had trouble comprehending how any life managed to survive in the desert, the north of Israel presented the opposite problem. The ground swelled with dewy greenery and life sprang from every crack in the ecstasy of the recent rainfall. I couldn't decide whether the fluorescent green of the grass was actual or if my eyes had yet to adjust from my eight week sojourn in the desert. And amongst the overwhelming green were spread wildflowers in all the brilliance of Renior's rainbow palette; a backdrop of wild mustard in soft yellow sprinkled with hot red poppies, delicate fairy pink, and the occasional blue bonnet look-alike to complete the spectrum.

 

The trail hugged the edges of the Hula Valley, taking us south along the Lebanese border. We gawked at the surrounding beauty as we plodded along muddy cow paths, crossed springtime streams, and forged our way through mossy canyons. 

 

 

 

We hiked along that road the whole morning, only to cross the fence and read those signs. Guess we were closer to the boarder than I thought! Silly Shvil. 

We found the most amazing campsites. Each one in a grassy field somehow more beautiful than the last.

 

Sprouting!

One particularly lovely morning found us climbing through a shady, boulder paved ravine. The emerald trees and beautiful stones were indeed so mesmerizing that we completely disregarded the fact (and Max will deny this) that we were hiking in the wrong direction. 

 

We had somehow started the day's hike where we were intended to end the previous day's. We stood dumbfounded for a minute, and then discussed our options; someone suggested walking to the nearest highway and looking for a bus to Tsfat. "It will take forever to find a bus stop," one person complained. "There's no way we'll make it to Tsfat today," I grumbled.

Lo and behold, as we pushed our way through the last bit of weeds and stepped onto the highway, the first thing we laid eyes on was a bus stop headed to Tsfat. 

We camped high atop the old city, and, after a majestic sunrise, began our descent to the Sea of Galilee through the Nahal Amud Nature Reserve. 

This way by far my favorite day of our trek; the trail winded through two lush canyons, passed by turquoise lagoons, and at times narrowed to little more than metal hand-holds climbing over boulders. 

 

We got a little tribal and painted our faces with purple olives..

Exploring some ruins

The Amud Pillar

As the sky turned to a periwinkle dusk, we exited the canyon and began walking along a 

cow-pressed path, lazily curving its way through rolling green hills. We stopped to admire a patch of iridescent purple flowers, and my mind slowly wandered West.. I could feel myself in the pasture lands of Ireland, waiting for a shepherd and his flock to crest the hill.. Or perhaps I was back in Tuscany, sleepily meandering back to the villa after a day in the vineyards.. Certainly I was home in Upper Bidwell Park, when the winter rains turn the valley green. Max suggested that we were in Middle Earth. Alas, the sounds of army test fire from a nearby base brought me back to Israel. 

It was a magical trip, and I loved being able to see such a different side of this country. 

Who knew I would love it here so much? 

This next week I start work at a farm in the north called Yesh Meain. Yesh Meain, which translates to "something from nothing", was actually started by a former Green Apprentice. I am greatly looking forward to getting back to work, and I'll keep ya'll posted. Errr, if I can, that is. Ya see, my  computer self-destructed.. and my camera is still broken. Now, if I can only master updating my blog telepathically. 

Mud build your mud bench, mud mud building

It's funny how life works.

In November of 2010 I attended the Hazon Sustainable Food Conference in Peteluma, California, a four day conference focused on the “New Jewish Food Movement”. It was a beautiful weekend of workshops and lectures, and I learned about an array of things from Eco-kashrut to urban farming and foraging to food justice.

More importantly, however, I made two connections during that weekend whose impact on my life I am only now fully realizing. First, I met a young man from Canada who was spending his semester WWOOFing in California. “Wow, I wish I could take a semester off and go WWOOFing, “ I told him, “ too bad I already applied schools.” “ Well, why don't you just defer your admission?” he replied, as if it was the most obvious choice. Thus was formed the best decision I have ever made.

Second, I was offered a pamphlet for Kibbutz Lotan “ An Ecological Kibbutz in the Arava Desert” advertising some sort of “Green Apprenticeship”. However, unlike the young man's advice, I quickly rejected the offer. The photo on the front featured an aerial view of the dusty settlement sitting smack dab in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't imagine why anyone would go there to learn about ecology, it didn't even look like anything could live there. Besides, why would I go to Israel?

But the universe would not let me forget about Kibbutz Lotan. Since November, I've received half a dozen emails and recommendations for that darned sand dune. So, when Lotan turned up in my search engine for places to volunteer in Israel, I decided to give it a little more of my attention. But still, it sounded expensive, so I said 'no' to Lotan for at least the sixth time. Finally, I came up with a laundry list of excuses of 'why not'; its too long, and too Jewish, and out of my reach, and too late to apply, and and and aaaand fast forward to the end of February and I just completed the Green Apprenticeship, easily seven of the most beautiful weeks of my life.

I find it quite difficult to summarize the experience into any sort of coherent message. I can't even seem to recall which order the magic came in. Did the mud building lessons come in between the sunny weekend jam sessions? Which took precedent; the lectures on the global economy or midnight baking in the field kitchen? I know somewhere in there there were lessons on permaculture, sheet mulch gardening, compost building, soil testing, wetland construction, irrigation, rainwater harvesting, grey and black water purification, straw bale construction, passive heating and cooling, solar power, seed saving, transplanting, companion planting, community building, urban ecology, peak oil, genetic modification of plants, geodesic domes, and economic localization. Throw in fourteen amazing and hilarious people, salsa dance lessons, frolicking in the garden, and sunrise yoga, and I'm sure I got at least half of it.

I started the the Green Apprenticeship hoping just to receive my Permculture Design Certification and get a taste of kibbutz life. I got that and oh-so-much more. The course was a perfect balance of theoretical in-classroom lessons (on every aspect of ecological-living imaginable) and practical work in the garden and building. Above all, we got to experience what it really feels like to live in a communal eco-village. Besides the domes (where we slept), everything in the 'Bustan' neighborhood of Kibbutz Lotan (ie. showers, compost toilets, kitchen, living area) is all outdoors, and all shared. This lack of privacy proved to be a valuable lesson in proper communication and delegation of responsibilities. Even so, disagreements were minimal and we mostly spent our days making treats in our solar ovens, dancing to drum circles, and hosting amazing potlucks.

And the people, wow, the people. The fifteen Green Apprentices came from an incredibly diverse range of backgrounds and interests. We ranged in age from eighteen to thirty five, and in career from summer camp coordinator to doctor. One of my favorite parts of the course was the weekly lessons which the GA's taught – a beautiful reminder that we are all both students and teachers. I don't think I could have hand-picked a more dynamic, enthusiastic, or fun group of people. I am so grateful to have connected with each and everyone of them.

What a wonderfully expanding yet deepening experience the last seven weeks has been. My knowledge of sustainability has broadened immensely into a much more holistic world view, and my understanding of these concepts has solidified as I watched the processes happening in my daily life.

Now, I am really excited to put these new skills to good use. Who wants me to permaculture-blitz their house?? Missy – you get the ultimate urban garden complete with container gardens and vermacompost.  Ali – you have chickens! And land! Oh the gardens we could build – the compost we could make! Mom and Dad – you're getting a revamp on the side garden, new compost bins, bike laundry machine, grey water system for recycling sink water for plants, and rain water collection if you'll let me.

Corner of the kitchen with recycling area and our neighborhood garden 

starting our spiral sheet mulch garden

compressing the sheet mulch garden with a little jig

working hard on the final permaculture design project, my partner and I designed a new 'Eco-Laundry" for the kibbutz complete with bike laundry cycling center, ozone machines, centrifuge dryers, garden, line drying area, second hand clothing store, and soap making facility. Everyone was required to research, plan, and design a new area on the kibbutz using "POBREDIM" - a permaculture design method. The project included detailed site map, boundary and resource analysis,  and final design among other elements. 

outside my dome

testing soil for building

the final stages of our mud bench, painting

inside my dome

the whole gang

view of the outdoor kitchen and magical sunset

looking towards the field kitchen

bathroom area

potato tire towers rock

our kitchen

building our garden

the very beginnings of our bench. tires + trash + mud = bench , yay!

workin hard

winnowing amaranth grain 

view of the Bustan from the water tower

me looking sleepy, paintin

Jules, me, max, and eli

building geodesic domes, we learned to make the struts from date palm branches and recycled irrigation  tubes

happy daze

sweet dome

inside of another dome

max, me, and the giant sweet potato we harvested

adam, me, eli, and our wonderful friend, samuel. beautiful people were quite literally wandering into the neighborhood at all times.