Last Wednesday, I did something I've been wanting to do for weeks. I went Salsa dancing. Considering I hadn't danced since March, I was a little skeptical, but I finally went after much pestering from a friend (classes and open dance are offered every Wednesday night). The lesson, which was held in the moadon (kind of like a multi-purpose room), was broken in to four groups. I went into the level above the very beginners, the one that required people to have attended at least two lessons before – I should have listened to their warning. I figured that since I had taken two full Salsa courses, I was qualified to move into the next level, but everything was different from what I had learned: from the way hands are held, the feet positions, and most of all, it was done in a circle, allowing people to switch partners while dancing instead of lines which require the partners to stop, move to the next person, and then resume dancing. And then there was the best part – it was all in Hebrew. Even though I eventually caught on to the dance steps with semi-success, I understood maybe 30-40% of what the instructor had said, but there were also factors like how fast she was talking and the loud noise from the rest of the room. I didn't stay for the open dance due to midterm preparation, but if I go back, I'm going to go to the beginners group so I can learn their dancing style from the beginning, properly.
Two days later, I hiked one of my toughest tiyulim (hikes; trips) yet: In the Golan Heights lies Nahal El Al, a small stream that runs in a valley between mountains that encompasses tons of trees, shrubs, an amazing trail, and apparently vultures. We got there at 10:15AM and didn't get back on the bus until about 4:00PM. Granted we stopped at a couple of pools with waterfalls so people could relax and swim (I saw a crab!), but we hiked the rest of the time. It was about 35 degrees (Celsius, which is about 95 degrees Fahrenheit) and much of the hike was marched in the relentless sun. I was actually impressed with many of the people that could complete such a hike, which included a couple of rock walls we had to descend. Water was extremely important to drink (I drank about a liter, which was a bit too little), as well as wearing a hat and sunscreen. Boy, were those lifesavers. I would love to do that tiyul again. Any takers?
That night, I had a fun experience going to dinner with a Chabad family (very religious organization), as I had been doing every Friday night while in Haifa. This time though, was one of the boys 6th birthday. The father, my friend, and myself actually lifted the boy in a chair seven times, the last one as symbolism, looking forward to next year. The boy was so embarrassed from the attention afterward that he hugged his father to keep his face away from my friend and myself. The father, who is the equivalent of a major in the Israeli Army, was wearing two kippot (religious skull caps), one on top of the other. I know kids have goofed around with that idea, but I never saw that put into serious practice. When I asked him about it, he said that the bottom one was for the tangible objects and their relation to God while the top one was for the higher soul and it's connection to God, or at least that's what I understood. Regardless, don't expect to see me wearing two kippot at the same time. Finally, the father told me I look Israeli. I asked him if it was the traditional white and black I was wearing, but he insisted that it was just my “look.” (I'm not sure if that's a compliment.) I'm not sure why he made such remarks that I, an Ashkenazic American Jew (Ashkenazic meaning of Eastern and Central European descent) looks like an Ashkenazic Israeli. Then again, I am Israeli (at least that's what my Israeli passport says). So now, I have been called Israeli and Brazilian this trip (see post from the beginning of my trip).
The previous day, I had actually seen all of the people that I knew from Chabad dancing in the street while I was getting falafel. They had with them a chupah (wedding canopy) and were dancing and singing down the street to the Chabad house, blocking traffic. They were welcoming a new Torah to their synagogue and that is the celebration for it. I'm glad I got to witness it from afar and not get sucked into the celebrations, which I'm sure lasted an unnecessarily long time.
Also last week, I had the drink “chocolada,” which is more like hot chocolate pudding than an actual liquid drink. Even though that beverage opened my eyes to a whole new wonderful world, I believe the only easier way to get diabetes is through an IV, so I don't plan on having them too often.
The pictures are of me standing in the “circus” amphitheatre in the ancient ruins of Caesarea, a panoramic picture of Herod's pool and the Mediterranean Sea at Caesarea, a creek that is part of Nahal El Al, one of the valleys we hiked on our tiyul, and me in front of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee).
-AZ
