mazel tov!
Whenever I'm up before 6 AM, it's very difficult for me to function on a normal, cognitive level. The process of rolling out of bed causes an intense jolt of adrenaline to rush through me that I am too tired to really know how to handle properly, and in that process I tend to do certain things I would not usually do. Such as daven morning Shacharit.
The knock on the door comes at 6:04. It is Noam, our madrich, reminding us, loudly (as Israelis often do), that it is time to get up and get ready for the hike. You see, this is the 3rd day of our Sea to Sea hike from the Mediterranian to the Kinneret and we have a long ways to go. I roll out of bed, finish the sodas in the fridge, brush my teeth, then, due to my lack of abilitiy to think for myself due to the earliness of the day, I go on to daven with my fellow religious brethen the weekday morning service. I even wrap tefillin. Yeehaw!
After the prayer ritual I drudge down the stairs of the Pequin hostel in the Galil to breakfast. Breakfast at this hostel is typical Israeli guild: various cream cheeses (none as tasty as Philadelphia), tomatoes, cucumbers, hard-boiled eggs, laffa, chocolate pudding, and Elite instant coffee (of which I just cannot get enough of). Rarely do I eat a regular breakfast during the workweek, but considering I was on vacation and that this was all on the house I was excited by what lay ahead of me. So excited that, in my early-morning stupor, after taking my plate from the stack I began absent-mindedly flipping it with one hand. After the second flip, however, my slippery hands missed the catch and the plate crashed to the ground, shattering into smaller pieces. Coming from tefillot, the dining hall was already packed with breakfast eaters that morning and the shattered plate brought them all to attention. There was a sudden silence throughout the hall, followed quickly by a loud applause. Not quite knowing what to do, I did what any normal human being does when a large crowd applauds one's actions -- I took a bow. I even considered an encore performance (there were plenty more plates where that came from!) but instead helped the page clean up my mess.
So last night my Argentinian suitemate Sebastian, two of his Israeli friends and I took a road trip to Tel-Aviv to do something that is simply impossible to do in Jerusalem -- all you can eat meat. We went to thisBrazillian-themed restaurant called Papa Gaio, which, for around $25, the lively waitstaff continually brings different kinds of cow and chicken to your table until everyone becomes terribly sick. I realize $25 for a meal is a bit steep, but I figured I should a) reward myself for landing the Poland seminar job this summer, and b) enjoy my last real meal before the lovely harvest festival of passover, in which I will be forced to eat-in for the next week (oh boy!). Plus, Sebastian drove, so the transportation wasn't a factor money wise.
During this meal there was live-Brazillian music and entertainment in the form of salsa-dancers and kick-boxing demos. Afterall, what better way to stuff your face with steak and wings than do it while watching incredibly toned shirtless adolescents do back flips and roundhouse kicks to eachothers faces? (weird, I know. An "only-in-Isreal" example if ever I saw one.)
Anyway towards the end of the night one of the waitresses (the bald one) was returning a tray full of empty glasses and caraffes to the kitchen when one of the glasses fell and shattered all over the floor. This, as I expected from prior experience, was followed by a roaring cheer from the remaining crowd. The waitress stopped in her tracks, and while still holding the tray with one hand, curtsied for the gleeful audience. Constrast that with how an American (or British) room full of eaters would react to a waitress dropping a glass (at best try to ignore it; at worst, slowly shake head in disappointment), and you begin to see why I love this country so much. I asked my Israeli buddy to my right, Dan, in English, why Isrealis always cheer when someone breaks things. He answered as many Israeli's do, first with a shrug, then simply, "it a tradition." Ahh, tradition. I always felt embarrassed for the kid at the chadar ochel, back at camp, who would drop a tray and everyone would cheer for him. It always seemed childish and mean-hearted. But now I realize it's not childish and mean-hearted; it's Isreali (as indistiguishable from one another the two often may be). For all of my former campers who I yelled at in the past for cheering after a dropped tray -- I'm sorry. From now on, I will cheer along with the rest of the crowd. Just make sure you get up and help the poor kid as well.
Hope everyone has a regular Pesach. Hag Sameach!
The knock on the door comes at 6:04. It is Noam, our madrich, reminding us, loudly (as Israelis often do), that it is time to get up and get ready for the hike. You see, this is the 3rd day of our Sea to Sea hike from the Mediterranian to the Kinneret and we have a long ways to go. I roll out of bed, finish the sodas in the fridge, brush my teeth, then, due to my lack of abilitiy to think for myself due to the earliness of the day, I go on to daven with my fellow religious brethen the weekday morning service. I even wrap tefillin. Yeehaw!
After the prayer ritual I drudge down the stairs of the Pequin hostel in the Galil to breakfast. Breakfast at this hostel is typical Israeli guild: various cream cheeses (none as tasty as Philadelphia), tomatoes, cucumbers, hard-boiled eggs, laffa, chocolate pudding, and Elite instant coffee (of which I just cannot get enough of). Rarely do I eat a regular breakfast during the workweek, but considering I was on vacation and that this was all on the house I was excited by what lay ahead of me. So excited that, in my early-morning stupor, after taking my plate from the stack I began absent-mindedly flipping it with one hand. After the second flip, however, my slippery hands missed the catch and the plate crashed to the ground, shattering into smaller pieces. Coming from tefillot, the dining hall was already packed with breakfast eaters that morning and the shattered plate brought them all to attention. There was a sudden silence throughout the hall, followed quickly by a loud applause. Not quite knowing what to do, I did what any normal human being does when a large crowd applauds one's actions -- I took a bow. I even considered an encore performance (there were plenty more plates where that came from!) but instead helped the page clean up my mess.
So last night my Argentinian suitemate Sebastian, two of his Israeli friends and I took a road trip to Tel-Aviv to do something that is simply impossible to do in Jerusalem -- all you can eat meat. We went to thisBrazillian-themed restaurant called Papa Gaio, which, for around $25, the lively waitstaff continually brings different kinds of cow and chicken to your table until everyone becomes terribly sick. I realize $25 for a meal is a bit steep, but I figured I should a) reward myself for landing the Poland seminar job this summer, and b) enjoy my last real meal before the lovely harvest festival of passover, in which I will be forced to eat-in for the next week (oh boy!). Plus, Sebastian drove, so the transportation wasn't a factor money wise.
During this meal there was live-Brazillian music and entertainment in the form of salsa-dancers and kick-boxing demos. Afterall, what better way to stuff your face with steak and wings than do it while watching incredibly toned shirtless adolescents do back flips and roundhouse kicks to eachothers faces? (weird, I know. An "only-in-Isreal" example if ever I saw one.)
Anyway towards the end of the night one of the waitresses (the bald one) was returning a tray full of empty glasses and caraffes to the kitchen when one of the glasses fell and shattered all over the floor. This, as I expected from prior experience, was followed by a roaring cheer from the remaining crowd. The waitress stopped in her tracks, and while still holding the tray with one hand, curtsied for the gleeful audience. Constrast that with how an American (or British) room full of eaters would react to a waitress dropping a glass (at best try to ignore it; at worst, slowly shake head in disappointment), and you begin to see why I love this country so much. I asked my Israeli buddy to my right, Dan, in English, why Isrealis always cheer when someone breaks things. He answered as many Israeli's do, first with a shrug, then simply, "it a tradition." Ahh, tradition. I always felt embarrassed for the kid at the chadar ochel, back at camp, who would drop a tray and everyone would cheer for him. It always seemed childish and mean-hearted. But now I realize it's not childish and mean-hearted; it's Isreali (as indistiguishable from one another the two often may be). For all of my former campers who I yelled at in the past for cheering after a dropped tray -- I'm sorry. From now on, I will cheer along with the rest of the crowd. Just make sure you get up and help the poor kid as well.
Hope everyone has a regular Pesach. Hag Sameach!
posted by xdredd at 2:38 AM
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