Israel
Sometimes I forget I'm actually here. More often than not, I don't feel like I'm here. Here being Israel. My days tend to be spent mostly at the Baha'i World Centre, and the Bahai World Centre is not Israel. Not an accurate reflection. A lot more diversity, for starters, and everyone speaks English. So it's easy to forget.
But this country is beautiful.
I say that as someone who lives on possibly the smelliest street in all of Haifa, and I mean that literally, and who passes by animal poop everyday on her way to work (where I then enter gardens that smell of jasmine and look like human conceptions of heaven on earth). But still, this country is beautiful. Maybe it's what it represents. A staunch will to stay. To rebuild. To fight.
A history rich and pregnant with values.
And I really like Israelis. I find them mostly to be kind, helpful, curious and friendly. If you speak even a word or two in Hebrew, show that you are at least trying, most people smile wide and you can see the twinkle of "shes so cute" in their eyes as you (ahem, I) inevitably butcher the pronunciation of the one word you've learned. They switch into English, if they speak it, but now they are extremely warm because you tried.
Anyway, last weekend I went to the beach for dinner with a few friends, and one of them got some footage of the dancing that takes place at this beach every Saturday night. Apparently, people of all ages come together and dance these Hebrew cultural dances. It was so fun to watch! I really want to learn at least one of the dances before I go.
There was this sweet old man at the beach who I couldn't take my eyes off. He was having a lot of trouble following the movements, though he certainly tried, and a gentleman next to me explained that he was a famous dancer, "Everyone here knows who he is. But he had a stroke twenty-four years ago, and now he's like this. It's very hard for me to watch him."
He must really love dance. To be able to go back, to try, even after losing those skills... I cannot imagine what that would be like. But I admire his resolve.
Unfortunately, Joe didn't get him on film.
In any event, here's the little clip:
But this country is beautiful.
I say that as someone who lives on possibly the smelliest street in all of Haifa, and I mean that literally, and who passes by animal poop everyday on her way to work (where I then enter gardens that smell of jasmine and look like human conceptions of heaven on earth). But still, this country is beautiful. Maybe it's what it represents. A staunch will to stay. To rebuild. To fight.
A history rich and pregnant with values.
And I really like Israelis. I find them mostly to be kind, helpful, curious and friendly. If you speak even a word or two in Hebrew, show that you are at least trying, most people smile wide and you can see the twinkle of "shes so cute" in their eyes as you (ahem, I) inevitably butcher the pronunciation of the one word you've learned. They switch into English, if they speak it, but now they are extremely warm because you tried.
Anyway, last weekend I went to the beach for dinner with a few friends, and one of them got some footage of the dancing that takes place at this beach every Saturday night. Apparently, people of all ages come together and dance these Hebrew cultural dances. It was so fun to watch! I really want to learn at least one of the dances before I go.
There was this sweet old man at the beach who I couldn't take my eyes off. He was having a lot of trouble following the movements, though he certainly tried, and a gentleman next to me explained that he was a famous dancer, "Everyone here knows who he is. But he had a stroke twenty-four years ago, and now he's like this. It's very hard for me to watch him."
He must really love dance. To be able to go back, to try, even after losing those skills... I cannot imagine what that would be like. But I admire his resolve.
Unfortunately, Joe didn't get him on film.
In any event, here's the little clip:
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