My business cards need to say "Nanotechnologist/Violinist/English Speaker."
A month and a half ago, Yerachmiel gave me a slip of scrap paper with a name and a phone number on it, and said "Here, you can pack vegetables for terror victims, 1-3 pm every Thursday." I filed it away in my wallet as I doubted to myself that I'd ever call the number, it being way more inconsistent than I wanted as a work opportunity. Course, five weeks later I was still activity-less, mostly due to the passive nature of my job search (though enjoying my daily wanderings immensely). But I mentioned the number to my girlfriend and she said whatta ya doing, call the number. So I called.
The results are twofold. One, the woman on the other end of that phone number happens to run tours of the nearby Carlebach Moshav, Mevo Modi'im (A moshav, based on my experience, appears to be a small self-sufficient village with some communal tendencies). I wondered if I really wanted to go on a 'tour' for the first time in my travels, but in the end went yes, and the results were glorious. The pictures attest to the earthiness of the moshav. I spent the day with a laid-back family, headed by an intellectual beast of a man, Shapir. He's an Indian Jew, first off, which is sweet (it's great how we come from every corner of the world); but he's also a teacher, a builder, and a private zoo-keeper. Dude takes tropical birds that zoos fail to breed, and he breeds them himself in his backyard. He showed us all his animals, took us on a hike during which he proceeded to identify the name, age, and history of every piece of flora in sight, and taught me how to identify wild mint and zatar. I passed a self-administered exam later in the day and made tea with the wild mint I'd collected; a great success. Lunch with the family was also beautiful, steaming soup in glass bowls and homemade wholesome looking foods in the family's dining room, with light streaming in from the windows and a neighbor gently playing Shlomo Carlebach tunes on the guitar. The silversmith does everything by hand; and the shul is beautifully quaint. Yet again I stumble upon beauty.
But I digress (whenever I use this word I think of 'Catcher in the Rye'). Two, I found work! Unpaid, of course, but then, I stay in a free hostel, so my weekly costs are quite low. The ripped piece of paper did in fact lead me to packing vegetables one sunny Thursday, which made me feel quite useful, and had me speaking Hebrew left and right. The woman in charge, Liora, asked me to come back early next week if I wanted, she could use an English speaker in the office.
So I did. And now its two and a half weeks later, and I'm still here. In fact, I'm the only one in the office right now. Granted I'm not doing work right now, but what else is new about my work habits.
I come in whenever every day, between 9 and 1030, and start working on various projects related to English language public relations. At some point Liora calls me in to write all of her English email responses for the day, dictating half-English/half-Hebrew to me as I interpret what she wants. At this point I know her style, which includes like six blessings at the end of every email. Actually this place, Ohr Meir U'Bracha (The Terror Victims Support Center), is incredibly unstructured. It's basically Liora, her family, and me. It's nice. Liora feeds me sometimes, running across the street to her home to get some marak regel (chicken soup) and couscous. She also laughs at my Hebrew mistakes and gives me lessons. And calls me "Mr. Tzadik", which roughly translates to "Mr. Righteous Man."
So, in sum, I found a routine. I walk the same streets every day, I finish my morning tea at the same trash can in the same place on my way out of Jaffa Gate every day, and I start to sort through what was once a labyrinth of shops and alleys in the Old City. It's actually perfect. I love to travel, but I love to make a home even more. And though I'm only in Israel for another month or so, I feel like I live here now.
