Israel and the Continental Divide

At the European Lacrosse Championships in Amsterdam, the Israel team made it to the quarterfinals. The previous game was a huge upset win against Wales. Wales had been ranked 8th as of the year before. Also, it was rumored that Wales led the charge in trying to keep Israel out of the European league. It was a sweet victory.

After that win, I felt so proud of our team and of Israel. They'd really proven themselves and their country, and earned a well-ranked spot in the European league. I sat in the stands for the quarterfinal match between Israel and the Netherlands feeling full of patriotism for my country. They played Hatikvah and I stood and sang the words, then they played Holland's national anthem and I stood for that, too. I was that gloating, pregnant wife.

I spread myself and my lunch out on a bench at the sidelines, hoping that no one would come sit directly next to me so I could stretch out if my back started to hurt. There were plenty of benches and seating when the game began. After the first quarter, though, the area was full of screaming orange-clad fans. The spot that my cheese sandwich filled was the last resting place available. Soon enough, a very tall, very Dutch sixty-something mother came and pushed it aside, replacing it with her derrier. "I hope you don't mind," she said after affixing her seated position so that we were thigh-to-thigh.

On its home turf with a throng of fans dressed in electric orange, the Netherlands played extremely well. They were an excellent team, and as I watched them play, it was obvious that they had the full package - a great offense, a great defense, and a great goalie. To be fair, the Israeli team had only been playing with one another for a few weeks prior to the tournament. Israel trailed behind, but managed to score a few goals.

Somewhere in the third quarter when the score was about 12-3, the Dutch woman on my thigh turned to me and said, "Can you please tell me why Israel is in the European league?" I responded that Israel and much of the Middle East is on the continental divide. That it's sort of like Russia - part Europe, part Asia. She looked at me aghast. "I certainly never heard that. Tell me, why isn't Israel part of the EU then?"

At this point, I probably should have pointed out that Switzerland isn't in the EU either, though no one seems to question its position as a European country. Rather, I shrugged, and let the Jewish grandmother on the neighboring bench chime in, "No, Israel isn't part of the EU because it can manage its own economy quite well." End of conversation.

I saw the lady pointing at me while talking to other Dutch parents from afar a few times after the game was over. I didn't completely know if my answer had been correct yet, but frankly, I thought it totally inappropriate of her to ask me, an obvious Israel fan, such a question after Israel had been successfully participating in the tournament for the previous ten days. In fact, I was offended by it. Of course we're part of the European league. And while I'm at it, yes we're a country, and no matter how many goals your son's lacrosse team scores on us, we're not going anywhere.

I looked it up a few days later. Apparently Israel isn't on the continental divide between Europe, Asia and Africa. Though it's very close to being so. Geographically, Israel is located in Asia. Socially, Israel is considered part of Europe. So, when it comes to sports, Israel is included in European leagues and tournaments.

Does this mean I eat my words and that the woman was right to question? Or, does it still mean that despite all of that, the woman should have never asked me. That the asking of the question was one of those anti-Zionist inspired moments? I guess I'll never know, but something still doesn't sit right with me about it. To be honest, I think her motivation might have stemmed from a little bit of both.

Traveling and then going home

To me, the best traveler is the person who can go anywhere and ensconce themselves so deeply into their surroundings that they can easily imagine settling down and living in the alien land. That person was me. Until about two days ago. Everywhere I went, I hung on to every detail of the foreign life I could live there. Imagining myself waking up in the mornings, walking down the picturesque streets, catching the various forms of public transportation to my job, lunching at the local cafes, partying with friends at the city/town/village's expansive nightlife, and taking day trips to the sites that dotted the outskirts of wherever I happened to be.

This yearning to live wherever I happened to travel brought me to live in some of the most interesting and exciting places in the world - Shanghai, Beijing, San Francisco, Jerusalem. Over time, though, the feeling of needing to live where I wasn't began to make me feel extremely unsettled. I imagined life in Kauai, Portland, Boulder, Burlington, Berlin, Charlottesville, New Orleans, and essentially anywhere I traveled. Returning home to wherever I happened to be living at the time brought with it a feeling of unease for giving up on an exciting new life full of possibility.


I spent the last ten days Amsterdam, a city touted as one of the most open, diverse, and sophisticated cities in Europe. Its streets are clean, historic, and lined with the most elegant sites - canals, houseboats, handsome multistory row houses, open-air cafes, tall blondes on bikes, flower shops, and museums galore. The city has a vibe of calm prosperity and order. It's the type of city that would have me endlessly daydreaming of my life as a Dutch resident as I wandered Amsterdam's streets for those ten long days.

But something was different this time. I managed to observe Amsterdam as a settled outsider. I enjoyed everything as a passerby might, knowing that the ten days would soon end. I had the things I wanted to do, the places I wanted to go, the delicacies I wanted to eat all lined up and went through them one by one. Visiting the Van Gogh Museum, getting lost in the Jordaan, dipping a fresh croissant in steamy hot chocolate, and riding a tour boat along the canals were among some of the
 highlights. And as the time wore on and the trip began to come to a close, I longed for Israel again.

I missed the shuk, the streets teeming with emotionally charged people from all over the world, our Prius, our beautiful spacious apartment, the cool evening breeze, the pool up the street, the feeling of being amongst family, the idea that simply living where I'm living has a meaning of its own. Essentially, I missed home.

Returning to Israel with a renewed sense of respect for where I live and what I'm doing here was the most valuable experience of this trip to the Netherlands. Back at home on my couch, sipping homemade hot chocolate, overlooking the wide valley that snakes beyond our veranda, through the hills and off to the Dead Sea, I feel very much at peace. 

Amsterdamse Bos

Here I am writing from just outside Amsterdam, in a small town surrounded by forest, rivers and marshy canals. I'm staying in a "camping" resort, which essentially means that our room is a self-standing cabin structure with its own bathroom, kitchen, sitting room, television, and wide array of Ikea-manufactured furniture. I prepared lunch with the windows open to temper the heat from the stove with the cool, moist air from outside. As I write, I'm surrounded by the sumptuous smells of fried onions and wet grass. A choral of birds is my background music, the songs occasionally muffled by the roar of an airplane flying overhead. The campground is not far from the airport.

I'm in the Netherlands because my husband is on the Israel National Lacrosse team, and the European championships are taking place this week. So far they're just starting with scrimmages against the teams that they will play when the tournament officially starts tomorrow. Yesterday was the Netherlands, today is Ireland. The team is made up of a mix of American-born olim chadashim and Israelis who are now living in the US. After this tournament, the team returns to the US to spend the summer introducing the sport to students across Israel through training sessions and clinics.

As an observer, watching the Israel lacrosse team play makes me feel more patriotic than I felt at the height of my aliyah process. Seeing the team cheer "Am Yisrael Chai" before games, admiring their myriad of Zionist and Jewish tattoos, hearing them yell to one another on the field in Hebrew, and watching them stand up bravely against the gargantuan, aggressive players on teams like the Netherlands.


The most amazing part of all of this is that here in the Netherlands the Israel team will parade in their striking blue and white uniforms with pride for the next ten days, and they will do extremely well in this tournament. The Netherlands gave up more of their Jewish population to the Nazis during the Holocaust than any other nation in Europe. Only one in sixteen Jews survived. Here we are again, and now with our own country to represent and to return safely to.


This trip reminds me of why I made aliyah in the first place, and it reminds me how lucky I am to live in such a special country.

Arsonists in my Neighborhood

I was enjoying a calm evening in the apartment, checking email and eating dinner when I noticed flashing lights outside our window. I thought little of it, since it seemed from the corner of my eye just a traffic jam. I continued my meal until I began to notice the rapidly familiarizing scent of burning brush. I looked outside once again, and at the base of the wadi, across the street from a row of town houses, an enormous fire blazed in the wheat-colored grass.

A fire engine had already pulled up next to the fire, and several men appeared to be spraying the fire down with hoses. I assumed they'd put the fire out quickly, so I went back to the computer. About fifteen minutes later, I looked up and the sky was full of smoke, and from behind the houses around the corner, I could see the blaze flickering and a new brown-colored smoke rising as well.

This is one of those times I wish I had thought of taking a picture ...

We've been having a little trouble with fires in our neighborhood over the last week. Last Saturday a fire caused 30 homes to be evacuated up the street from our apartment. Little damage was done, except for three cars that were completely consumed. There have been several more brush fires in the wadi as well.

On my walk the other day, I just so happened to notice charred trees and a half-burned dumpster still full of detritus that spilled out onto the streets over the strings of melted green plastic.

The fires are supposedly being caused by arsonists, and supposedly the arsonists are teenagers from a neighboring Arab village. I guess it's been a few too many fires to continue to believe that people are accidentally throwing their cigarette butts in poorly chosen places. Needless to say, this seems like one of my many initiations into the conflict part of the Israeli experience.

Illegal Immigrants in Israel

So, there's a lot going on around the internet these days about the violent protests against the Sudanese and Eritrean refugees in South Tel Aviv. Before I say anything, violent protests against anyone or any group of people are inappropriate, and this particular aspect of the African immigration issue represents an embarrassment to Israel. Simple as that.

All that said, I'd like to add a few more dimensions to the story that are rarely written about in the news that are circulating in places like Facebook, Twitter, and other social media outlets. For what reason, I have no idea.

Israel is a tiny country the size of Rhode Island surrounded on all sides by much larger countries - Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Syria, to name a few. I suggest everyone take a look at a map because the amount of press coverage Israel gets makes it seem as if its size dwarfs these other countries. Each of these other countries is Muslim, contains an incredible amount of land mass, and many of them are closer to Sudan and Eritrea than Israel. In fact, the Africans have to cross all the way through Egypt and the Sinai in order to get to Israel. So why don't they just cross the border of their home country and become refugees in Egypt?

Because in Egypt they will get killed, they will be treated poorly, or they will have little or no work prospects. Check this out: The influx of Africans to Israel began in 2005 after the Egyptian police attacked Sudanese refugees who were camped out in Cairo and demanded asylum. More than 20 people were killed, and word spread that Israel would provide them a better welcome and more job opportunities.

Essentially, the Sudanese are moving to Israel because, according to one of the first Sudanese to cross the border from Egypt to Israel, "In Israel Sudanese can earn $4 per hour. In Egypt such a wage is unheard of. Moreover, medical care and educational opportunities are far better in Israel than in Egypt."

Like all of us, the African migrants are seeking a better lot in life. But, when it comes to Israel, they're doing it illegally. The vast majority of Sudanese migrants in Israel do not have refugee status - they are simply considered illegal immigrants.  Why? Because Sudan is a "hostile state" to Israel, and for obvious reasons, accepting a large influx of their population could create a dangerous situation domestically within the State of Israel.

Despite the fact that these migrants are not labeled as refugees, over the past ten years, Israel has accepted approximately 200,000 Sudanese migrants, and is officially housing 15,000 of them in centers through the country. Most of the migrants are living in South Tel Aviv. They are allowed to work in Israel, and employers are not fined for employing illegal Sudanese migrants. Last time I checked, you can't hire an illegal immigrant in the United States...

Last thing I'd like to mention is the hullaballoo over Israel building a fence to slow the flow of migrants entering the country from Egypt's Sinai. Let's first consider that the United States has done the exact same thing. Let's also consider that preventing massive influx of illegal immigrants into any country is a priority of national security, particularly if those illegal immigrants are arriving from an "enemy state."

Like I said before, the protests were inappropriate. The best way to deal with an issue like this is through political process. Citizens must begin to make their feelings known to politicians, and the politicians must take it upon themselves to devise a plan to give the best treatment possible to migrants who have already arrived in Israel and to curb future migration to Israel in a responsible way. Fueling hatred and anger against a group of people will only increase the likelihood of domestic problems in the future.

Culture Shock

This is what home life looks like these days ...

And for the most part, that's where I am when I'm at home, unless I'm sitting at the couch with my MacBook Pro. It's almost pure normalcy here - same as life was in China, San Francisco, or even Richmond, Virginia. In between the lines, though, are moments of difference and change.

For five days every week, I go to an intensive Hebrew language course for new immigrants called "ulpan." The course lasts for five hours, starting at 8:30am. My class of 20 is made up of men and women between the ages of 22 and 35 from Russia, Kazakhstan, Belarus, France, Spain, Chile, the UK, the US, and Canada. At the 10:30am break, I eat an apple, sit on the deck outside and talk to my three close friends - all who hail from the UK. I never see these friends outside of the course.

After classes, I head home and do what you see up in the photo - stand in the kitchen and make lunch. Then I eat together with Jack. This is the best and most normal part of the day.

The rest of the day is consumed by errands amongst non-English speakers - and my Hebrew is simply not there yet, navigating the most insane traffic I have ever experienced, or exercising at our lovely gym that just so happens to be entertainingly full of retirees playing backgammon or boiling their rotund bellies in a hot tub that faces the entrance.

I go between laughing at, ignoring and being frustrated by the differences in my life. It's very difficult to move to a new place, and though I thought I was immune to experiencing culture shock after having lived in China so many times, I'm remain simply human.

I realize in going over this blog that I have written from when I lived in San Francisco right out of college to China after that, back to San Francisco, and now to Israel. Is this a blog about living life to its fullest or is this a blog about experiencing differences and new cultures? I'm starting to think it's about the latter...

The View

From the balcony, the view of the valley below was mesmerizing. At first a gentle slope with olive trees, it descended deeper with near vertical walls studded with ancient caves and part of a recently recovered aqueduct, and eventually it flattened out into a rocky wadi that led into the Arab village beyond. Five times a day, the devoted singsong of the muezzin echoed up the wadi, snaked its way through the valley, and slipped through the sliding glass doors into the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom. The sound had become so familiar in the house that the old armchair seemed to have developed a slight indentation where the voice settled on its many visits.