I'm sad I'm missing the lunar eclipse, but I am living in Jerusalem studying art...so what's better? huh? I thought so.

yeah yeah yeah yeah

do you wanna hear about my life?

oh yeah

i'm back to my nudniky, little-jewish-white-girl ways...meaning i'm not sick anymore. I started going back to the gym (really because I really missed my monkey soap operas on Nat Geo, not the treadmill). I'm up early because I rented out a fancy schmancy camera from Bezalel last night, but the person before me didn't return it. So because of his carelessness, I can't sleep in this morning. And I have no motivation to take pictures for this class...the teacher is an egocentric, lecturer who wears pink scrunchies in his squirrel-like ponytail. When I sent him a message that I was sick and couldn't make it to class, he replied:

"Nice to hear from you. Like you, I was sick in with all the symptoms. I couldn't get out of bed last week, but I made it to class on Thursday. Class went well and it was nice to see everyone. See you next week."

Best,

Yosaif

NOTICE ALL THE "I's" stacked up against the "You's" Do I really care about how you feel?

Anyways. sorry to get riled up. I made great banana bread last night and am now washing it down with some chai. This morning is starting out great.

Last weekend, a Naftali invited Sarah and me to stay with his family on Shabbos. (The family's apartment on Emek Refaim was actually Max Feldman's apartment...fancy that). It was a relief to not have to spend Shabbos at the Kvar and also to be served dinner and lunch at the King David Hotel. It was one of those dinners with more than four forks, and afterwards I tried Cognac at the bar. One of the bartenders came over to our little nook and said pleasantly, "I hope you like fresh strawberries" while depositing a plate of fresh, sliced, sweet ones.

I hope you like fresh strawberries???

What kind of question is that???!

Next weekend (meaning this thursday night) our group is leaving for our trip to the north. We are going to Haifa, doing art with some local artists on an Art kibbutz, and staying with some Bedouins. I am uuuuuuber excited (also to not have to cook and stay in the Kvar yet another weekend). I promise, I will take pictures.

I went to the grocery store yesterday to buy toothpaste. Can you believe I consumed (do you consume toothpaste?) an entire tube of Crest mint by myself since i've been here. It's like i'm starting to live in israel or something...

nneeeeeieiieee

Kvetches from the K'far

My life:

sneezy

breezy

and cheesy (christmas music)

This week I journeyed across the Negev on my camel, Hawija. I pulled my woolen cloak taught to shield my face from the sun by day, and the bitter, sand-studded winds by night.

My throat was parched...so parched that I fancied a mirage: the scorpions were, themselves, crawling goats' bladders filled with cool water from an ancient Herodian well. I picked one up and wrung it to my open mouth.

I woke up the following day, my head engorged with throbbing pus, my mind clouded with unsavory thoughts of what could have been my end. Hawija had fled. I hoped the desert jackals had not devoured her.

Suddenly, a figure clothed in white appeared before me. His name was Zalman. He was holding a clipboard. He knew my name.

Gans. Aliza. Bus number 2.

I was ushered into a cool, humming coach bus. I sat next to a Russian man with over-gelled hair. I was given a sandwich. Everyone on this caravan had a backpack with the word "Masa" embroidered on it.

Was this...had I...reached the outer realm? A second life? The heaven of my forefathers?

Masa Shabaton in the Negev.

I visited bedouin tents, attended too many lectures on sustainable living in the desert, ate greasy chicken, saw tumbleweed blow in the thunderous winds of a sand storm, drank a lot of tea, watched Magic Bullet infomercials. Overall, a journey to remember.

Then I got home (I started calling the K'var "home" which means I must really be settled in) and started feeling achey and chilly. I took a couple Tylenol and went straight to bed. I woke up with a fever and the whole Megillah of symptoms. I spent the whole day in bed sleeping. It was a blur of Rapid Eye Movement, trying to read Grapes of Wrath without getting a pounding headache, and then settling for two hours of "Hey Arnold" episodes. I called a doctor Sunday night at 2 PM and he didn't call back until 11:30 PM. He also didn't speak a word of english. I went to the medical clinic on Monday with Shoshana, and the doctor (Moishe Hirschenbaum from Queens, NY) concluded that I had either a really bad cold or the flu (if my fever persisted for another 48 hours). I skyped with the family for our annual Hanukkah Extravaganza in Bridgewater, MA. It was great to see everyone having a great time without me.

Did a social experiment with my friend in Mea Shearim, the uber-religious neighborhood of Jerusalem. Men and women aren't frequently seen together (it is inappropriate and immodest to associate casually with members of the opposite sex) so we saw some eyebrows twisted in some interesting positions. I went to the shuk and got provisions to make chicken soup for all the people on our program that are sick (there are six or seven as of now). But as soon as I finished cleaning the chicken necks (I thought of you sucking the bones, dad) I started sneezing again. I ate a bowl of finished soup and made one of those nasal tissue tampon things (coils of toilet paper shoved up my nostrils to catch the drips).

I am going to finish watching "Singing in the Rain," which is one of the best feel-good movies I have ever watched. Then more sleep. Oh, sleep...let me marinate in your moonlight...snooze in soothing silence.

A Great Miracle Happened HERE

Chanukkah is such a simple holiday. In Israel, it doesn't come with the baggage of Christian consumerism, it's a celebration of light.

Here in Jerusalem, i've been inspired to create and admire light in it's physical and non-physical forms.

On Hanukkah Day 1, our apartment hosted a Chanukkah party. We attempted to make latkes without a set recipe, which proved to be a disaster (plus we made enough of our bad batter to feed a troop of maccabees (damn. bad chanukkah jokes, sorry)). But it's impossible to make deep fried potatoes and onions taste bad, so, our horrible hash was eaten by all.

We sang songs. We ate sufganiot, a troop of religious men armed with menorahs knocked on every apartment door to make sure we had all lit. Overall, it was a very warm night.

The Chanukiah I made out of clay. (lit with real israeli olive oil!)

me holding a handful of latke hash

Latkes (they stunk up the whole dorm complex)

All the city busses have LED "Chanukah Sameach" flashing after the destination. Every time I see one, I imagine I'm going to a place called Happy Hanukkah.

This weekend, Hannah visited from Kibbutz. It was great to host her in my cleaner, more presentable Jerusalem apartment. She, Olivia, and I cooked up a salad feast from the veggies we bought at the shuk. We made homemade hummus, eggplant salad, tossed salad, israeli salad, and had fresh strawberries for dessert. We went to Shira Hadasha, a shul on Emek Refaim. It was filled with beautiful singing, and we recited a psalm for those affected by the forest fire near Haifa. It was beautiful to light Hanukkah and Shabbat candles with my best friend.

Today I needed to skip theology in order to work on my ceramics homework. I was really tired, and in no mood to volunteer at the hospital.

I arrived in Pediatrics alone, and the room was closed (annoying dude wasn't there!). There were only infants outside (who are incapable of painting or doing crafts). Finally, when my partner, Ruth, showed up a little orthodox boy came into the room and we sat him down with something to do. Eventually, all of his siblings (I counted six) sat down at our craft table. We made totem poles and cut out menorahs for them to decorate. They were curious and cute.

Our Religious Brady Bunch

Ruth and I cleaned up and visited the Rehabilitation center, the hardest ward because its difficult to motivate adults to do arts and crafts, and it's so depressing to see everyone with IV bags and dressing gowns. We sat next to an old Israeli-Italian woman named Gina. In the beginning, she had difficulty holding a paintbrush or pencil because of her severe arthritis. Her hands were knotted like driftwood. After coaching her and soothing her frustration, she began to write words...her name in Italian.

A man in a wheelchair inched up to the table behind me and set up a Chanukiah. He cleared his throat and the whole floor went quiet. He blessed the candles, and after our debilitated congregation said "Amen" we all burst into song and clapping. We sang every Chanukkah tune in the book.

In hebrew, hospital translates to "house of the sick". But it felt like a house of healing.

Holidays in the Holyland

Ho ho ho.

What's been going on?

I'll tell you what's been going on.

I went on a hike to the Judean hills last thursday. We hiked about 8-10 km down this choppy dirt path. Since it is the dry season, the shrubbery do not have leaves, so we walked through narrow passageways of prickers, and the dirt that would have given us footing was like slippery chalk. But the views were breathtaking. We visited an abandoned tomb of a sheik, and cleaned out a 4000-year-old watering hole that was filled with rocks (and spiders).

Thanksgiving was lackluster, but we tried to make it special. Actually, it was the non-Americans who helped me prepare a thanksgiving feast of frozen peas, orzo, cauliflower, roasted chicken, and ice water.

It was fun to see the family virtually eating at Grandma's house. I wished I could be there.

Now Chanukkah is approaching, I feel even more nostalgic for the days of old (not Ancient Greece...like...when i was 12). I bought my favorite Hanukka CD on iTunes (Festival of Light 2). I didn't pack a menorah with me, so I used the clay I accidentally bought (Our ceramics class uses Minerco .02 White...not .05) to make my own. People don't sing Hanukah songs here. The only real Chanukah-y thing I've seen here are sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) in every shop (they smell and look fantastic) and menorahs in every window. Those empty menorahs are so promising. I love imagining them all filled with light.

*noticed I spelled Hanukkah differently every time. Pluralistic Judaism at its finest.

Thanksgiving
The hills
Our Class
Sheik Tomb

Back Message (get it? like...back massage?)

No, mom, I'm not dead, sick, kidnapped, paralyzed or depressed. I am an artist...one that traps herself in the recesses of her creative consciousness and refuses to emerge until inspiration has surfaced like a tampon on the shores of Long Island sound.

Apparently you miss my blogging about everything I'm eating (right now, a roasted eggplant with tahini) my bowl movements (normal, chunkysmooth), my kvetching (I was harassed at the Arab shuk yesterday), my bargains (haggled a Druze kippah from 220 sheckles to 70), etcetera.

Well, I'm back.

If the real purpose of this gap year is to eat, pray, and club, then you can just watch Julia Roberts take a bite out of Europe and Asia with that big mouth of hers. I'm here to do art. It's becoming less and less stressful and a bit more comfortable. I can navigate my way through the Bezalel library, I know how turpentine and linseed oil affect the application of paint, I know how to center a mound of clay on the wheel, and stretch it to make cups and bowls, I can measure an angle for perspective drawing by squinting one eye and sticking out my pencil , I know the shortcut to get to the piano rooms in Hebrew University, I know where to get a 2-sheckel, vanilla, soft serve cone (McDonalds. It tastes like drive thru with dad).

So, I'm feeling a bit more Sabra/artsy and a little less American. Especially since Thanksgiving is approaching. Though, apparently, Israel consumes the most turkey per capita in the world. I regret being here a little bit...missing out on the eating, the family gathering, and the traffic-congested car ride. But I'm here to live like an israeli...which means, I get to gawk at the menorah light fixtures the municipality recently put on all the light posts on Mount Scopus, it's still warm enough to wear shorts, and I haven't seen a Christmas ad on TV (granted, I don't own a TV).

The synergy of art and Israel creates a new element of its own, and it feels authentic. Overall, I'm living the Chai life.

Below are some pictures of my pictures...

bear in mind, that these are all practice, and I haven't had time to work on anything more than a class period. I am still a student. I posted the good and bad. Enough disclaimers.

In painting class today (less than 3 hours ago) we did painting "sketches" meaning we didn't have more than 20 minutes to work on these. This one is a theater.
Still wet. This one's a kitchen.
The Tree of Art in our studio. I did the apples.
Me priming my "canvas" for class today. I binder clipped a sheet of canvas to the piece of plywood I use for drawing.
Amichai, our nude model for One-Arm's class

Contour drawing...meaning you only get one chance to make one straight line in order to define the shape of the model.
Nudette. check out those Rainbow Brite pubes.
Big ass.
Nude dude.

Still life of green vegetables on red canvas
Perspective drawing (I hated this class)
Monochrome exercise (I hated this class, too)
Perspective exercise drawing a tower of desks and chairs.

AND shout out to mom and dad. Happy 26th Anniversary! You guys are hot.

Filling the Gap

Damn...more than a week since i've written. Maybe that means I'm finally getting a life.

Since a lot of time has gone by since i've blahged, I won't detail what i am doing, rather how i am doing, because when people back home ask, "How's Aliza doing?", it's insufficient to answer with, "She made three cylinders on the wheel yesterday. She ate pasta." You would rather answer with something like this:

"Aliza has finally occupied her niche at Bezalel. True, in class she is labeled as the American student who, during lectures in hebrew, maintains an expression of complete confusion and pathetic apathy, but she is totally immersed and engaged in her art. Her teachers are impressed by her skills as a student at pre-beginner level. She loves the thrill of tackling a challenge and in the process, making something that is all her own.

Her father wishes she would go to synagogue services more often, but Aliza reassures him that the art she is doing resonates with something more powerful than flipping through pages of a siddur.

Despite popular belief, Israel has not made Aliza fat. She weighed herself (in kilos) and has lost about 3 pounds since she has arrived. (Thanks to an overpriced gym membership and no Honey Bunches of Oats in her cabinet.)

Aliza misses her family, not the life at home. She misses subtle nuances of Woodbridge sometimes: her mother's cooking, Target, downtown New Haven, Shabbat, sleeping with her dog (she found a dog hair on her coat yesterday and got incredibly nostalgic), diners, car rides with the Ganses, Saturday mornings, get-togethers with her gals, and seasons. She has spent enough time with Israelis (and Arabs) that she knows she does not want to make Aliyah (maybe if she learned perfect hebrew she would retire in Haifa). Her perceptions of Israel have changed. She once romanticized it. Now the country is more real to her. She has a hard time trusting it.

Aliza is still indecisive about next semester. She would love a change, but is not sure if she wants to risk her art for picking grapefruits in a kibbutz field. While her experiences at Bezalel have not given her a clear direction of where she wants to focus her career (which is why she took a gap year in the first place), she has had time to stew over who she is, what she wants, and what is important to her.

working title

inside the studio
spray paint
me in the elevator
laundromat
cafe
gardens/campus
kvar studentim...my apartment building from the dumpster
kitchen table

I haven't really been in a blogging mood. But I don't want to let down my multitudes of devoted fans. This weekend I visited Hannah at Kibbutz Ein Dor. It's a 15 minute drive from Afula, which is a couple hours from Jerusalem. It was a nightmare of a schlep to get there (sat in the aisle and then next to a over-touchy guy), but it was worth it. Shabbat on the kibbutz consisted mainly of sleeping, eating, partying, passing an ice cube from mouth-to-mouth with 20-something teenagers, and catching up with my best friend.

Sunday I had a really interesting theory class. He lectured on the mysticism of the Aleph-Bet. I then rushed to Hadassah hospital for my first volunteer gig. My partner and I made claymation figurines with kids. They were mostly arabic so it was difficult to communicate. It was very rewarding. I want to steal a set of these retro-looking Hadassah Hospital sheets. There are piles of them lining the hallways. Is that wrong?

I then scurried to ulpan and was only a half-hour late. We learned how to conjugate infinitives. Still boring as heck.

Today I had a fantastic pottery class (chiseled/refined our cups/painted designs on them). I had drawing with Ami second class (the one I exchanged that boring installation class for). This guy is fantastic. He actually gave us exercises and, I feel, he is really committed to helping us improve our skills. Our model was really neat too. She was very classic-looking and had shape to her. She did these really crazy poses, and was laughing. It was a good-humored day.

Le Grande Tour

Transvestite Wrestler Figurines
View from my bedroom window
Bathroom
My food stock
The infamous oven

Lounge

Kitchen

My room plaque

Sink

My decorated drum

My Desk

Right side of my room

My encyclopedia-ed walls

Where I sleep

My room

Some amazing things have happened this week:

- I made three perfect cylinders on the wheel without messing up once

- I painted a still life of green vegetables on an all-red canvas

- I rented a heavy duty camera from the Bezalel Electronic Rental place

- I took out a chockfull of books at the Bezalel library

- I switched out of my boring sculpture/installation class into Drawing

- I saw five blind people in one afternoon

- I found my keys

- I sat across from a woman on the bus who ended up being a past israeli emissary from Afula who volunteered in Woodbridge, CT! Crazy little country.

So, Dad wanted me to give him a picture of where I'm living. I went around with my spiffy Canon and took snapshots of campus culture.

More pics to come...i am just in a rush to leave to meet hannah at the bus station, and it takes FOREVER to upload photos on here.

Shabbat Shalom!