To the North/Passover/Guns!

How far away is Cleveland???

Israel is a country large in heart but small in stature. Kinda Like Rudy. I mean really small. Today I was driving home from a passover seder in Beit Dagan in the backseat of a car that had no business having a backseat. My size 12 boats were all scrunched up against the front seat as I waited anxiously in the post-seder traffic for some fresh air and toe-space respite. (Even the cars are small) Gideon, a 75 year old retired percussionist in the Israeli philharmonic gave me a friendly, informative, and uncomfortable ride home from an enjoyable seder. Gideon was born in Israel, and literally saw Tel Aviv grow up and reach maturity around his home of more than 50 years on Ibn Gavriol street, next to the Air Force headquarters. When we passed the military headquarters, he gave me a great example of how small this country really is, and how technologically advanced the Israeli Air force is. An Israeli fighter Jet at full speed takes 30 seconds to go from the eastern border of Israel to the western border. From North to South? 6 minutes. Tiny. (Dear America, Thanks for the funding! Love, Israel)

That being said, Israel has such a diverse climate for a country of this size. The south is dominated by the arava, a massive and unrelenting desert. The north, however, is full of lush greenery, rolling hillsides, and miles of idyllic farmland on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It's easily my favorite part of Israel, and is as chocked full of biblical and ancient history as any place in the world. Jesus performed all kinds of miracles up in here, walking on water, healing the sick, and pulling rabbits out of yamulkas. Something like that, anyway.

Last week we had the opportunity to visit the north on a big group trip, sleeping overnight in Kibbutz Hukok on the northern banks of the Galilee. We spent the morning and afternoon with our long-winded guide giving an in-depth history lesson about all of Israel's wars that involved this tiny but militarily significant area on the borders of Lebanon and Syria. There are remnants of battles everywhere here, but instead of taking away from the natural beauty of the area, it coincidentally adds to it. For example, the Golan heights was littered with Syrian landmines prior to the Yom Kippur War in 1973, and for unknown reasons, Israel has not taken the time to thoroughly check the rolling landscapes for remaining anti-personnel landmines. Some say Israel wants to keep them here in case Syria invades. Some say Israel is just being lazy. Regardless of the reasoning, the effects have been environmentally conscious and aesthetically pleasing. Other than the cleared roads and hiking trails, much of the landscape is fenced off with barbed wire fitted with signs warning of land mines. This means many of the fields and open grasslands haven't been trampled on by humans for 25+ years. Every few years, someone disregards the signs and ends up in pieces. Worth it for the spirit of environmentalism? probably not, but nonetheless beautiful (from a safe distance).We took a hike through one of my favorite spots in Israel, the Banias. Full of wildflowers, waterfalls, and gorgeous landscape views, it's regarded as one of the best hikes in all of Israel... for good reason.

Laughing!

Now Crying. 

Banias chillin

Ambiguously gay climbing

Upper body strength? check.

Landmines. WTF Syria?

Surviving in the wild..

Better than drinking own urine. 

Syria in the background. Perfection in male form in the foreground. 

Syria.. our friendly neighbors to the north! A.K.A Israel's Canada. 

View from bunker overlooking Syrian border

Destroyed mosque

Mt. Arbel from the base

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood..

Katyusha rocket remains from 2006 near Lebanon border

Site where 12+ IDF soldiers were killed by this rocket

Memorial

Packin' heat! GUNS! 

Gotta keep that gun clean. GUNS!

Lebanon border, town of Metula

Metula

Kibbutz Life

Classic Dog v Cat match-up

Landmines and Syria. Like 2 peas in a pod. 

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Passover Seder

Jonatan found the afikomen before me.. lucky SOB

post-meal entertainment

My personal mentor and life coach, Etty. 

Yeledim

Not quite an M-16.. but still.

Guns: Now safe for kids!

 Over and Out..

Purim!

There I was, dressed as a stately and slightly inebriated Julius Caeasar reincarnate standing at the apex of a slowly buckling metal recycling cage overlooking scores of pirates, pinocchios, power rangers, hot dogs, hefalumps, royal family members, robin hoods, crayons, criminals, smurfs, spongebobs, angry birds, avatars, zorro's, zombies, and zoo animals as far as the eye could see. During the most festive party of the year in Tel Aviv, it is the person highest above street level who is Caesar, regardless of wardrobe or earthly status. Joined by my brethren Iliya, Inadequate Dan and the Big Cat, it was a quintessential moment I will not soon forget.

There is an old saying that goes: If you put two Jews in a room, you wind up with three opinions.
Israeli culture is argumentative, divisive, and often confrontational. Americans are willing to hold their tongues or err on the side of being conciliatory rather than antagonistic when it comes to debates with family, friends or strangers. Not saying one is favorable to the other, just that there is an identifiable but not quantifiable distinction. The manifestation of this culture, at least for the big city of Tel Aviv, is a city as diverse, colorful and vibrant as any that I have had the pleasure of experiencing. It is ironic to me that in the tiny corner of the globe that Israel occupies with the sole jewish-majority populace in the world there can be such homogeneity. Then, Purim comes along. I was shocked by the unification process that took place over the course of last week. Tel Aviv went from an interwoven web of identities, agendas, viewpoints, and strangers to a common people, unified in their celebration of an ancient Judaic tradition of dressing up and drinking until one knows not good from evil. I dont remember feeling as part of something as incredible since fall 2006 at the conclusion of the greatest game ever played between Michigan and Ohio State. The street parties in Tel Aviv reminded me of this feeling..and it was a good one.

Our celebration started Thursday afternoon with a trip to the Shuk Hacarmel to find some quality costumes for the occasion. On the way, we stumbled across this gentleman who could play 2 recorders at once....with his nose. It may not be an admirable one, but I believe it counts as a skill, and the amount of time he put into learning this weird human feat deserves some recognition. But not too much. If you like to hear woodwind instruments played with a nose, this video is right up your alley.







Once in the Shuk, we engaged in the masculine tradition of playing dress-up with whatever wigs and masks we could find. Then, we stumbled upon a bunch of boobs. Big boobs. Monster Jugs. Made of plastic.  5 shekels per pair (thats 2.5 shekels per teet!). Ben, being the effeminate one of the group, and frankly the one one of us with a ladylike figure and womanly disposition to pull off a complete cross-dressing, decided this was to be the catalyst for what would turn into a transvestite outfit that Rupaul would have given his/her nod of approval for.

On friday, we headed to the massive day-time street party on Shaul Hamelech with the Canadian delegation. The street was shut down as droves of eager costume-clad celebrators partied to the sounds of pulsating techno in the hot sun. We took a short break from the madness for lunch, but otherwise we did our best to keep up.

'Merica

Hot diggity dog

Pac Lives

And then there was Saturday. The street parties in the neighborhood of Florentine are the Israeli mardi gras equivalent.  A claustrophobe's nightmare. Each block was packed at the next, with dressed up DJs every 100 yards pumping tunes from the 2nd or third flood of apartment buildings. I elected to deviate from my group temporarily to dance with complete strangers. It's funny how a costume can make you feel invincible. I was Julius Caesar for god's sake! Who dare deny the Caesar a dance? Boosted by a sense of false confidence, I tried to dance with everyone I could find. I may not be an accomplished dancer, but my go-to move of the twist seems to never fail.