The second trip to Yafo was with my Ulpan class. Our teacher was amazing. Our whole class got shakshuka. This is how you make shakshuka: put oil, spices, and tomato sauce into a skillet. Drop in two eggs. Cook for like 3 minutes over foot-high flames. Don't die.
The third trip to Yafo was on a Shabbos walk with some friends. On the way back we kept running into people we know. It was very pleasant, except that in some parts of the path people were riding motorscooters. I still can't get over that. I showed my friends the hanging orange tree, which is one of my favorite things. It is suspended from three buildings in a giant fake seed. There is usually a permanent haze over Israel, but in the spring it's much clearer. From Yafo we can see all the buildings of Tel Aviv lining the beach.
Purim was just another excuse to party in Tel Aviv. Bakeries had homenatshen, and every store was selling masks or wings or wands. Thousands of people descended into the Florentine neighborhood. An Israeli friend commented that it's fun if you live here and can run into old friends. I was happy to escape. I bought a pink Sleeping Beauty child's dress in the shuk for 50 n"s (about $12.) I wore black and white striped tights and did my make up to look strung-out. I found it charming. There were surprisingly few women wearing leotards and animal ears. A group of four girls were the Ninja Turtles, a group of three were well-painted fish, and a pair were jocks wearing running shorts and baseball socks. I hold nothing against the Ninja Turtles or fish, but I do find it peculiar when girls dress up together. When two boys dressed up as babies (including real adult diapers), it was obvious that one copied the idea from the other because he couldn't think of anything else, or one convinced the other because he wasn't brave enough to do it by himself. In middle school I felt a sense of belonging when I was one of the mock Spice Girls. (I was Hoochy Spice. The others were Anorexic Spice, Chunky Spice, Very Scary Spice, and Ghetto Spice. I can't believe I remember that.) It never occurred to me to share a costume. I feel that doing so projects some kind of insecurity, but I really have no way of backing that up. My favorite costume was of an arse. Arsim in Israel are skeezy men with greased-up hair who have outrageous come-on lines. My friend wore pants so tight I'm pretty sure adoption is now his only means of having a family, a tight printed shirt high enough to reveal an underwear band, a large Jewish Star, big reflective glasses, earrings, hair gel, and a behind-the-ear cigarette. This amazing outfit was coupled with wildly cheesy come-ons, and everyone was delighted. The night after Purim a number of us went to a dance club. Three girls we were with ended up making out with Israelis, which basically completed the holiday.
My program took a trip to the Negev, which is the desert comprising 60% of Israel. We first visited the Ramon Crater, which is not a crater at all but rather a makhtesh. We visited an unrecognized Bedouin village. The living conditions were deplorable. Small children speaking Hebrew showed off for us as we made the trek from the road. We also were accompanied by a crying baby camel. The children were so cute and friendly, and I think we all felt sadness and awe as we watched them scramble about barefoot through the rocky desert. We were given tea in a tent made of corrugated metal. The 62 year old father of the family offered us some insight into their lives. The mother was 34 and came from Gaza. She wore a scarf over her nose and mouth, which they don't usually do in Gaza. She knew some English, but spoke to us in Hebrew. She seemed very intelligent, and we could somewhat pick out the things she was not saying in front of her husband. She said it was very hard to move from Gaza to the village. No kidding. This is not the Kosher Bedouin tent they take birthright participants to. This is a real village where real Bedouins live, though they are lacking many of the conveniences of modern life because Israel has not recognized the village. They pay taxes and for water, but mostly live off government assistance. Some of the kids go to school, some go to the army, and some stay in the village. I was really touched by their hospitality, and angered by the fact that such an intelligent woman would become the second wife of a Bedouin. (While I take no offense at women who want to marry Bedouins, this woman gave hints that becoming the second wife of a Bedouin twice her age was not what she was expecting.) She said she hadn't gone back to Gaza to see her family in 5 (?) years.
We spent the weekend in Sde Boker, which sits at the edge of an enormous canyon. I was surprised how beautiful the desert could be, and how much life it holds. (If you can make out a darker and a lighter dot at the rim of that round platform, you are seeing two people.) Lastly we visited a town made up of people who want to settle the Negev. They are idealistic and living in the 50's. The very though of living in the Negev makes me crawl with boredom. But such places exist.
The people who are working in Jerusalem moved there, and we began our internships. I lived over 5 weeks out of my suitcases. I was so delighted to find shoes and shirts I had forgotten about. I was excited to have a new place to explore, but I still went back to Tel Aviv for the weekend because I missed my friends, and I was invited to a cabaret party. In spite of the fact that some people think Israel is some sort of theocracy, stripping is still a legal vocation.
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