I ♥ TLV

One of my favorite things about Israel also happens to be one of my favorite things about NYC: Time Out magazine. It's one of the many reasons why I was thrilled to see the knock-off cover of this month's issue:


Yes indeed, the month of April marks 100 years since the founding of Tel Aviv. There are celebrations scheduled all throughout this year, but some friends and I were lucky enough to make it to the opening event a few weeks ago: A festive concert in Rabin Square featuring the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra accompanied by famous Israeli singers, dancers, actors and other artists.

To say that the concert was packed would be an understatement. We couldn't even get close to the center of Rabin Square itself, which was reserved for dignitaries and special guests. Instead, we stood with a mob of people in the surrounding streets, watching the spectacle on giant television screens. We did manage to get somewhat of a glimpse of the orchestra, which was perched high upon an enormous balcony overlooking the square.

When we looked up, we also noticed huge crowds of people watching the festivities from neighboring rooftops. There were even some creative people who wanted so badly to sit that they climbed on top of bus stops!

That's about when Leslie and I, in desperate need of a bathroom, broke off from the rest of our group and set off in search for the facilities. What we found was even better -- the wide-open door of an office building. We decided to try our luck and climb the stairs in the hopes of watching the concert from above. Ten flights later, we succeeded in attaining the fabulous new-and-improved birds-eye view you see below. We were so happy that we (almost) forgot that we still needed to pee!

We made a quick phone call to our friends, who managed to find their way up to the roof to join us. It seemed like other people were catching on as well; pretty soon the roof was almost as crowded as the streets, albeit with a much better view.

The real problem came just a few minutes later when -- without warning -- they began shooting fireworks from a neighboring roof. This was all part of the show, and while it was neat seeing the flames up close, it was extremely unnerving. At the crack of the first explosion, people screaming and running for cover. It was not all that unrealistic to be terrified -- after all, we were standing in the very location where Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated during a peace rally in 1995. I've learned not to let the fear get to me, though -- and I also managed to get some great photos:

After yet another round of ducking and avoiding fireworks, we decided to be "smart" by making an early getaway from the square. We had made arrangements with the driver of the sherut that picked us up in Jerusalem to give us a ride home at the end of the night. We called him as soon as we got out of the area barricaded off for the event, and were assured that he would be there in "shalosh dakot" (that is, three minutes). After we waited for thirty minutes, we called him back again. This time, he reduced his timing to "Shtei dakot" -- that is (you guessed it) -- two minutes! At that point we started debating alternate plans for getting back to Jerusalem, but we ultimately decided it would be easier just to wait. Eventually our driver showed up, but it took him so long to get to us that I can't even remember how long we waited in total.

As we were waiting, I made note of the diversity of the crowd. Tel Aviv and Jerusalem are completely different worlds, and I have to admit that the bustle of Tel Aviv is much more my scene. In fact, our Israel Seminar class paid a visit to the Israeli Foreign Ministry offices a few weeks ago, where we heard an incredible presentation about "branding" Israel -- let's just say the publicist in me was really excited about this!

Apparently the latest trend in Israeli PR is to play up the "fun" aspects of Israel -- that is, instead of focusing on religion, history, and culture, the government launched a campaign they call "Tel Aviv Nonstop," which began in 2006. It's based on the same tactics that are used to market Brazil as a colorful party zone, despite the fact that the country is actually plagued by crime and poverty. The impetus came from a study using a game called "House Party," in which participants were asked what the atmosphere was like at hypothetical parties hosted by various countries. For example, Italy's house was described as being welcoming, with lots of food and wine. In contrast, Israel's house was envisioned as defensive, closed-off, and awkward. There was an interesting article in this week's Jerusalem Post that explains why previous PR tactics failed -- here's an excerpt:

"We have to appear on entertainment shows from Jay Leno to Ricki Lake, from Oprah Winfrey to MTV, from David Letterman to Tyra Banks, presenting attractive and alluring personalities, be they Aviv Gefen, Ahinoam Nini, Yair Lapid or Amos Oz - people with sophistication, humor and a subtle and reasoned approach to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that will play as well in New York City as it will in Lincoln, Nebraska. "

To counter this image of Israel being a place wrought with terrorism and orthodoxy, the Israeli government has also put forth the following:

But there's more to Tel Aviv than just beaches and bikinis. Last Shabbat I went to services at Beit Daniel, a synagogue affiliated with the World Union of Progressive Judaism across the street from Tel Aviv's gorgeous HaYarkon Park.


We found the synagogue based on the fact that there were a line of tour buses outside, which made for a standing-room only crowd. We spent the first twenty minutes of the service standing in a mob listening to the service from outside the door and joking about the fact that it felt funny to be behind a mixed "mechitza" at a progressive synagogue! We eventually managed to snag seats for what ended up becoming the most meaningful service I've attended all year.

This week marked Shabbat T'kuma, the special name given to the Shabbat between Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and Yom Haatzmaut (Israel's Independence Day). Beit Daniel commemorates this passage from remembrance to independence by hosting an annual multilingual service. The goal is to celebrate the miracle of the ingathering of the exiles in Eretz Yisrael.

Since Israel is a melting pot of Jews who made aliyah from all over the world, this service included speakers of German, Russian, French, Danish, Slovakian, Romanian, Portuguese, Dutch, Spanish, Hungarian, South African, Iraqi, and even Thai descent! It was pretty special hearing the Veahavta paragraph of the Shema, one of the central prayers in Judaism, being read in an Asian dialect! It made me realize that I hadn't had Thai food at all since coming to Israel, and I was very happy that the restaurant that we went to after services had a Pad Thai-like dish on the menu! It wasn't quite as good as the real thing, but at least it satisfied the craving...

There was also a man who read the Hashkivenu prayer in Arabic, but I'm not sure if he was an Arab who happened to have a relationship with the congregation or if he was a Jew with a knowledge of Arabic. It was definitely a bold move for them to include Arabic in the service, but I'm so glad they did. It made the service all the more representative of the many cultures that make up Israeli society. This kind of diversity is something I sorely miss in Jerusalem. Here, the progressive congregations are mainly limited to those affiliated with American institutions, like HUC and USCJ.

It initially bothered me ever so slightly to learn that Israel was trying to promote tourism with sex because it seems to undermine the religiosity that is so ingrained into everyday life here. However, I'm curious to see what develops from these new marketing tactics. Will the religious population reject or merely ignore ads such as the one I posted above? Will the hypothetical "House Party" Israel be more appealing to the general public ten years from now?

The Jerusalem Post does an excellent job of explaining the differences between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and suggests why changing the way in which the rest of the world views Israel just might work:

"Jerusalem symbolizes Jewish survival against the odds. Tel Aviv encapsulates Israel's spirit of freedom."

Either way, my newfound love affair with Tel Aviv has gotten me all excited for the onset of Yom HaZicharon and Yom Haatzmaut. Lots of ceremonies, festivals, and BBQs to blog about -- stay tuned! :)

Never Forget

When I traveled to Israel on Birthright four years ago, my most poignant experience by far was visiting the children's memorial at Yad Vashem. The exhibit is ensconced in darkness, with tiny bulbs of light leading visitors through a windy maze. The soundtrack is a recording of names of children murdered during the Holocaust; as I struggled to find my way through the darkness I thought about how these innocent children never had a chance to escape from the veritable hell of the concentration camps.

My bleak thoughts were soon interrupted by a growing glimmer of light, which gradually got bigger as the exit grew near. As I approached a gorgeous panoramic view of Jerusalem of Gold, I understood and embraced Israel's significance as the Jewish homeland.

Unfortunately, my vibrant memory was literally "dampened" on my next visit to Yad Vashem. When Rachel was here this past February, we returned to the children's memorial in the midst of a hailstorm. This time, the sky that greeted us at the end of the maze was dull and black. There was no shining light over Jerusalem -- in fact, the fog was so dense that we could barely see even two feet in front of us. But there was no time to reflect on the darkness. We walked briskly to avoid getting soaked, jumped into the very first cab we saw, and headed back to my warm and toasty apartment. It was only then that I realized how lucky we were to have the means to escape the rain. I was once again hit with the same intense emotion; it just took a bit longer to see the hope this time.

Last night I had another incredibly moving experience at Yad Vashem. Today is Yom Hashoah, or Holocaust Remembrance Day. Since Jewish holidays begin on the evening before, HUC obtained tickets for us to attend the opening ceremony to mark the beginning of this somber occasion. Security was tight as several Israeli and foreign dignitaries were in attendance. Governor Tim Kane was there representing the US, much to the delight of our own Rabbinic delegation (of one) from Virginia.

Moving speeches were given by Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and President Shimon Peres. Both speeches were highly politically charged, touching upon current events such as Darfur, the Durban II conference, and Gilad Schalit. The director of our Israel Seminar class was sitting with us, and he explained that the content of Israeli politicians' Yom Hashoah speeches is (not surprisingly) a crucial component of their approval ratings. Here are some excerpts of what they said, courtesy of the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz. I should note that we were provided with headsets that translated the entire ceremony into English, but I found that hearing a simulcast was somewhat distracting. Instead, I tried as best as I could to translate the Hebrew, and used the subsequent media coverage to fill in the gaps.

The centerpiece of the ceremony involved a torch lighting by six Holocaust survivors, who told their stories in a multimedia combination of film, music, and poetry.

The next day we hosted services and a ceremony of our own at HUC. I was one of three students responsible for putting together prayers and music appropriate for Yom Hashoah, thereby marking my very first time for leading services as an HUC student! Our service was wrought with a combination of quiet and symbolism. We made a concious decision to speak through many of the prayers that are normally sung, as we thought that a completely musical service would enliven this solemn occasion. The pieces that we did sing were carefully chosen. For example, we made substitutions for joyous prayers like Halleluyah (Psalm 150), in which we praise G-d for giving life to all beings. We didn't think that it was appropriate sentiment for Yom Hashoah, so we instead included a musical setting of one of the children's poems from Terezin. "The Last Butterfly" represents an uplifting symbol of life and hope during a time of tragedy, and we thought it made a nice parallel to the traditional prayer.

Right after our service, we all gathered outside to hear a siren which was to be sounded across all of Israel at 10am. They say that when the siren goes off, traffic comes to a halt and everyone stops what they're doing. I actually didn't get a chance to get to the street and see this for myself. Instead I stood in the center of HUC's gorgeous courtyard, appreciative of the great beauty that we are fortunate enough to have in Eretz Yisrael today but slightly angry that the construction workers across the street continued working throughout the siren!!

The highlight of the ceremony that followed was my classmate Andrea's reading of an excerpt from her grandfather's diary, documenting his experiences in the Shoah. She concluded her reading with the following: "During the Holocaust, my grandparents survived 'everyday, every hour, one minute at at time,' never in a million years dreaming that today their first grandchild, daughter to their first son who was born in a Displaced Persons camp in Germany, would be learning Hazzanut in Medinat Yisrael." I think that says it all about the cycle of hope that Israel has helped perpetuate in the years following the Shoah. Thinking of Andrea's words made it all the more powerful when some of my other classmates stood in line and read the names of relatives who had also experienced the Holocaust.

Indeed, Yom Hashoah is a huge deal in Israel, largely because the Holocaust is one of they key reasons why Israel exists in the first place. Even though it's not considered to be a religious holiday, the stores and restaurants all close. In fact, even some of the non-kosher restaurants remained closed out of respect and remembrance of the six million. It's incredibly powerful to see the religious and secular sides of Israel come together in solidarity, despite the fact that it's in the wake of tragedy.

This Year in Jerusalem!

This year I finally got to fulfill the dream that is traditionally sung at the end of each Passover seder: "L'shana haba'ah b'yrushalyim" or "This year in Jerusalem!" While I admit that I was a teeny bit jealous of some of my classmates who traveled to exotic places like Russia, Prague, and Greece, I'm glad that I got to experience Pesach in the Holy Land.

At first I was really surprised how fast Pesach flew by -- I hardly even missed bread at all! But then I remembered that Passover is actually shorter here, since Israelis only celebrate for seven days. Jews in the diaspora observe an additional day because when the new moon was originally sanctified in Jerusalem, the messengers couldn't get to the Jews living in the diaspora in time in order to let them know when the festival was to begin. As such, Jews in the diaspora kept an extra day because of the doubt.

Another reason why my Jerusalem Pesach was so easy is because many Israelis generally eat kitniyot -- that is, the corn and rice products that many Ashkenazi Jews avoid during Passover. When I'm in the states, I pay tribute to both the Sephardic and Ashkenazi sides of my family by refraining from kitniyot during the first half of Pesach and then having an all-out sushi feast on the fourth night. I think it's a pretty good compromise. Of course, here in Israel I fully embraced my Sephardic heritage!

Kosher for Passover rice cakes -- only in Israel!

I also had the chance to eat in restaurants that were fully certified as Kosher l'Pesach! Here's an ad for Cafe Joe's Pesach Pizza. I didn't actually get to try it, but I did try various disgusting Passover rolls made out of potato flour. Let's just say that it was a low-carb kind of week for me....


At the grocery store and the shuk, it was also very easy to determine which products were Kosher for Passover. In fact, in order to maintain their kashrut certification, the stores need to either close or refrain from selling chametz (aka bread products). I got a real kick out of the dropcloths covering the חמץ at Supersol -- not to mention the macaroon mania at the shuk!

In addition to celebrating just seven days of Pesach, most Israelis only hold one seder. Even some of the religious Jews visiting Israel from the diaspora tend to have only one seder these days -- see this recent article from Haaretz for more info.

I was lucky enough to spend my one seder with Laurie and Chaim, close friends of my mom's friend Emily (and one of my loyal blog readers). We joined up with their neighbors Naomi and Eli for a seder that was very close to what I'm used to back home. Eli even tried really hard to insert lots of commentary, just like my dad -- not to mention cheesy Village People-style Passover spoof songs like "Matzah Man." I felt right at home when all the teenagers at the table started complaining that he was talking too much and that they couldn't wait any longer to eat!

One of the highlights of the seder was going around the table and coming up with modern day "plagues." Mine was media-hungry paparazzi; other people mentioned the economy, racism, and even the intense religiosity that permeates Jerusalem! Chaim presented some unusual Passover melodies that come straight from the Kibbutz movement -- I'm going to see if he can teach them to me before I leave so that I can bring them back to the states! Apparently he's thrilled about this because his family doesn't always appreciate his singing during the seder. We also enacted the supposedly ancient Persian custom of beating each other with stalks of scallions in order to simulate the whipping of the Egyptian taskmasters, which of course erupted in a tiny bit of chaos. We tasted two delicious versions of charoset (one Sephardic and one Ashkenazic) and enjoyed an incredible vegetarian matzah ball soup. Overall, it was a relaxing and enjoyable evening. Oh -- and here's an interesting article about some other fun Sephardi seder traditions, in case you're interested in learning more....

Like all good Israelis, I took full advantage of the week-long vacation that accompanied the Passover holiday by doing some traveling around the country. Although the drive between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea should normally take about 30 minutes, it took us almost three hours to get there this week. Fortunately I was amongst some fantastic company. Below you'll find Mike, Josh, Assaf and I floating in the salty water; the shot below it adds Shannon, Miriam and Aviella to our motley crew.

I also explored some of the fascinating archeological sites in the Old City, paricularly the Southern Wall excavations. I had seen some of these places before with my parents and on my Birthright trip, but it was fun exploring them with a big group -- especially since our friend Malca is working in antiquities right now and gave us our own personal tour with lots of historical insights! There were also lots of kids programs going on especially for Passover, and us big kids had fun climbing on things and crawling into pyramids (see below).

During the final days of Pesach, I returned to the town of Kochav Yair, the same place where I had led services for Yom Kippur. Wendy, who had hosted me last time, coincidentally came to one of our 1776 productions in Ra'anana and invited me to lead seventh-day Pesach services for their Conservative congregation. The services there are usually run by Danny, whose mother Roz is a tournament Scrabble player. More than anything, I was excited about having a chance to play against her -- but alas, she scored two "bingos" and beat me, despite the fact that my own score was in the respectable 200-range! I've really grown to love this community, both for its beauty and for its hospitality, and I hope to stay in touch with many of the wonderful people I've met there.

It's funny -- last time I visited was at the very beginning of my Israel adventure, and I was so anxious about figuring out how to get up there that they arranged rides for me over a week in advance. This time we played things by ear, since I'm now very comfortable navigating around the country via sherut, train, and bus (that is, the intercity buses that go through secured bus stations -- I still don't take public transportation within Jerusalem itself, although I'm beginning to think I'm being a little ridiculous...)

Next up is a slew of sentimental holidays like Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) Yom HaZikaron (Day of Memorial for fallen soldiers) and Yom Haatzmaut (Israel Independence Day). And of course, with my year in Israel drawing rapidly to a close, I can proudly say the following:

Next year (most likely) in my own homeland -- New York!

Of course, I'll also be fondly thinking of all the amazing memories I've had from this year in Israel -- what an incredible experience this has been!

Here Comes the Sun

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps, but at 5:30 this morning the streets of Jerusalem were more active than I've ever seen Manhattan at that hour.

Jerusalemites tend to be early-risers, since many religious Jews make sure to leave enough time to say their morning prayers before they head to work. But this morning's prayers were so special that even I managed to drag my tired self of bed while it was still dark outside. However, I must admit that the only thing that kept me from crawling back under my covers was the fact that I was surprised to hear swarms of people chattering away outside my window...

The rabbis of the Talmud tell us that once every 28 years, the sun returns to the same place, time, and day of the week that it occupied during the moment of its creation. In commemoration of this day, a special blessing for the sun -- called Birkat HaChama -- is said:

Blessed are You, Adonai, our God and God of all the universe, who makes all things in creation.


Birkat HaChama is considered the rarest prayer in Judaism. Today marked only the third time that the prayer was recited in the history of the State of Israel (the other occasions were in 1953 and 1981). Because of this, thousands of people flocked to the beautiful Haas Promenade to celebrate and pay their respects to the center of the universe as we know it. There were also services going on at Masada and at the Kotel (apparently there were over 50,000 people there!) -- not to mention various other places around the globe. It helped that modern technology makes it very easy to broadcast obscure events such as this to a large population. Indeed, the last time Birkat HaChama was recited in 1981 was long before the internet was even thought of -- and many of the religious Jews I spoke to had never even heard of the ritual until this year!


I arrived by cab with Jessica and Chad. We were worried that there wouldn't be any cabs on the road at such an early hour but it turned out that the opposite was true. There were many cabs, but they were all full of people who were also heading down to the tayelet. Fortunately, we eventually managed to find one. Our original goal was to join a group from the liberal yeshiva Pardes, who were hosting an egalitarian service. We thought they'd be easy to spot, since they were likely one of the few groups in which the men and the women would be praying together. However, there must have been thousands of people along the promenade, spread out amongst dozens of different congregations.

We eventually abandoned our search for Pardes and joined up with Shira Hadasha, the "halakhic" egalitarian minyan that permits women to sing and lead prayers, even though they sit separately from the men. This morning's service featured not only beautiful singing, but also a violinist and several other musicians. The melodies were intertwined with the murmur of prayer coming from the other groups that surrounded us -- not to mention the backdrop of the sun rising behind absolutely breath-taking scenery. We ran into many familiar faces and picked up several friends along the way -- a sure sign of the fact that we're all really becoming part of the Jerusalem community. It's too bad that we'll all be heading home in just two short months -- time has really flown by!

Once the sun came up and we recited the blessing, a group of us decided to grab one last carbohydrate-laden meal before saying goodbye to bread for the next week. We were certainly not the only ones with this idea. We headed to Tal Bagels on Emek Refaim, which was jam-packed -- but we were lucky enough to snag a table outside. We all jokingly vowed to meet up again in the same place 28 years from now. I don't even want to think about how old I'll be then, but the cool thing is that I will (hopefully) have a pulpit by then and will be able to tell my congregnts all about how I participated in this rare blessing of the sun ceremony in Jerusalem.

You can read more about the once-every-28-year opportunity of Birkat HaChama in several publications, including CNN, the Jerusalem Post and the New York Times.

Wishing you all a Chag Sameach -- enjoy your Passover and Easter celebrations! :)

Wandering in the Desert

Next Wednesday night marks the beginning of Passover, during which the Jewish people celebrate their freedom from slavery in Egypt. During the ceremonial Passover seder, we tell the story of how the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years before they finally reached the promised land.This past weekend, my classmates were fortunate to experience our own little taste desert life during a four-day (as opposed to 40-year) trip to the Negev.

Unfortunately, one of our 1776 performances conflicted with the first night of the trip so Andrea (aka Abigail Adams) and some of my other classmates headed down the next morning via a surprisingly organized public bus to Eilat that happened to have a stop at Kibbutz Yahel, where our group was staying. Since I've gotten so used to the go-with-the-flow disorganization that is Israeli society, I couldn't believe that the bus had assigned seat numbers AND that it left right on schedule!

Kibbutz Yahel is one of two Reform kibbutzim in the Negev, and it is an absolutely gorgeous cultivated desert oasis:

Yahel is best known for its fresh produce, particularly dates and pomelos. Pomelos look like giant grapefruits with a tougher skin. In fact, our guide, Ron Bernstein, explained to us that the reason pomelos haven't caught on in the US is because Americans are too lazy to peel them -- not to mention the fact that they're heavy and take up too much space!

The kibbutz's pomelo trees are technically situated in Jordanian territory -- in fact, we were given explicit instructions not to walk beyond a certain spot, for fear that we would cause a stir if patrol people detected our footprints. When the peace treaty was signed between Israel and Jordan in 1994, the kibbutzniks faced the possibility of giving up their farmland for good -- a loss that they were willing to take in the hopes of having peace for their children. Fortunately, the new border fence was built in such a way so that the 1,000 acres of Kibbutz Yahel's fields were included as part of Israel. As a token of gratitude, the kibbutzniks began leaving crates of pomelos for the Jordanian patrol officers -- a project which has become known as "Pomelos for Peace." Here is a great article about Yahel's plight for peace with the Jordanians: http://support.jnf.org/email-content/greentimes-032708/docs/pomelos_for_peace.pdf.

Yahel also has a very active dairy farm, and we were given a personal tour of the facilities by Gingy, one of the Rabbis on staff at HUC. Gingy worked as a dairy farmer before he decided to go to Rabbinical school, and he told us more about cows than we ever wanted to know. For example, dairy farms generally only raise female cows, for the obvious reason that they are the ones who actually produce milk. All male calves born at the farm are shipped off to become, well, fast food. I find it ironic that people who keep kosher go out of their way to separate their milk dishes from their meat dishes -- and yet, the meat at many of Israel's fast food restaurants apparently comes from dairy farms!

Coincidentally enough, I also learned that my friend Talia -- who is currently in veterinary school -- visited Yahel last summer and had the chance to work with the kibbutz vet!

The next day we visited the other Reform kibbutz in the area, Kibbutz Lotan. Visiting there brought me back to the serious environmental phase that I went through when I was about eight or nine. I refused to eat food served on Styrofoam plates at my friends’ birthday parties, and I even went so far as to ask if the tuna served in a fancy restaurant was “dolphin safe” (my parents still tease me about that one). I’m still fairly eco-conscious and go out of my way to recycle whenever possible, and I was happy visit a place that stresses conservation in conjunction with Jewish values. The dual goals of the kibbutz are, indeed, sustainable eco-friendly living, coupled with encouraging a "progressive" approach to Judaism.

Many of the buildings at Kibbutz Lotan are made entirely out of organic or recycled materials. They are structured around a metal frame that looks kind of like a jungle gym. These are insulated with straw, and then coated with concrete. Holes are left in the structure for ventilation, which are left open for cooling during the summer but are stuffed with clothes in the winter to keep in the warmth. Here's an example of what the frame looks like; behind it you'll see some of the completed huts:

In order to save water, the toilets on the kibbutz are not of the flushing variety. Instead, they are especially designed to compost waste, which is eventually turned into fertilizer for their crops. The bathrooms were -- surprisingly enough -- very clean and not particularly smelly, and the kibbutzniks even had a sense of humor about what they call "Senor Alberto's Super Deluxe III Composting Toilet":

(Yes, I took a picture inside the bathroom stall...)

We also had the chance to become "eco-terrorists" -- we rolled together balls of seeds and mud and were given explicit instructions to throw them anywhere we think could use more plant life. This gave us a chance to get down and dirty in the kibbutz's mud workshop, which also specializes in making mud bricks, which are used to build many of the apparatuses in the kibbutz playground.

Ah yes, the playground. The playground, which was a veritable paradise of everything from old cars to animals made out of mud, tires, and other garbage, was by far my favorite part of Kibbutz Lotan. I particularly enjoyed the camels and the igloo -- I mean, where else would you manage to find an igloo in the middle of the desert?!?

We continued our nature trek by snorkeling at Coral Beach Reserve in Eilat. I'd been there before, but it never gets old. The reef is gorgeous, and the water is so clear that you can see beautiful fish and corals from the dock (hence the pictures). The water was a little chilly, but we tried not to let that bother us too much.

Shabbat was upon us when we returned to our homebase of Kibbutz Yahel, and we spent the rest of the weekend relaxing and soaking up the desert scenery. On Saturday morning, we took a short hike and enjoyed services amidst the quiet of nature. It was the perfect combination of communal singing and personal reflection.

Now that we're all experienced what it's like to wander in the desert, we're ready to jump head first into our Passover celebration. But unlike our ancestors, our departure was not one of freedom -- it was one that led us back to another exhausting week of school...