Tubishvat

Yesterday was the Jewish holiday of Tubishvat, known as the holiday of the trees. As a kid in Hebrew school back when I was just a wee one, I distinctly remember collecting money to plant trees in Israel. About a week ago when I was driving from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, I saw the full impact of all of that effort. Grown from nearly nothing at the time (though most of the ‘desolate’ Near East was actually forested and green before ancient people cut down the forests), the hills between the two cities are green once again. Coming up from the Arava, it’s nice to drink in all that green like a cool glass of water.

It never really struck me as strange until this year that the holiday of trees was in the middle of winter, but like so many of the Jewish holidays, this one actually makes sense if you’re in the Southern Levant. Just as we celebrated Sukkot as the last dates were falling off the kibbutz palms, shaking a palm leaf, an etrog, and some myrtle, Tubishvat is happening just as the almond trees all around are in full delicate pink and white bloom. Yes, I apologize once again to those who are buried deep in the white stuff, but spring is coming! It has actually been raining quite a bit both here in Tel Aviv where I’m currently stationed, and in Jerusalem where I was last week. And January showers bring February flowers! Hmmm…..a bit different rhythm, but I like it.

So, you might be wondering what I’ve been up to. Last Tuesday, the 19^th of January, I needed to move my some of my stuff up to the Save a Child’s Heart (SACH) house in Holon, where I’ll be staying starting on the 4^th of Feb. Now, since my plan was originally to stay for two years, I got my parents to bring a couple of instruments when they came in October – so on top of my couple of bags, I also had my awesome hand-made Banjo (shout out to Jed!), and my/my dad’s old Gibson guitar. What to do! So my good friend Adi and I rented a car in Eilat and drove our stuff, as well as an ailing comrade, up to Jerusalem. Our car was a little Mazda 2, and the driver was myself. It’s a beautiful drive, with the first half through the desert and the second half with the Dead Sea and Jordan flanking you to the right. Those of you who know Israel well will know that this trip down the Arava road is probably the most dangerous thing I will have done in my stay in Israel, vastly more dangerous than visiting Ramallah or Bethlehem. Getting to Jerusalem, I was still at the helm, and Adi, who knew the city, was my navigator. I can tell you this: Jerusalem is a confusing city to drive in, especially if you’re from a nice grid like Toronto. Let’s say you want to end up about 1 kilometer north-east. The best route will probably take you southwest, curve around gradually for 500 meters, cut back across the road you were originally on, and then go through a tunnel. It took about three days of walking with a map in hand to finally get a real sense of the layout.

After moving Adi into Hebrew University, where he’ll be spending this semester, we drove across to Tel Aviv to move one of my bags into the SACH house, and spent the day in Tel Aviv, which is a stark contrast to Jerusalem. The ‘old’ port dates back to the 1930s! To put that into perspective, the Old City of Jerusalem dates back presumably to the 9^th century BC (I’d write BCE but it’s really still counting from Jesus isn’t it? And BP (before present) is just a little confusing), making it roughly 50 times older. If Jerusalem is the holy city, giving you the feeling of the ancientness of the civilization here, Tel Aviv is the modern metropolis, reminding you that Israel is a modern state indeed, replete with all the secular pleasures and debaucheries of the modern western society. Jerusalem is full of American Birthright kids, yeshiva students, and older ex-pats playing Israeli on the one hand, and Haredi orthodox Jews walking around with their eastern European garb, living off the state, and multiplying like rabbits on the other (there’s plenty in between though, these groups are just the most visible). That, mixed with the constant tension of the conflict and the Green Line essentially surrounding a swelling city on three sides makes for a pretty intense experience. In comparison, Tel Aviv is almost like a normal city, only the people are rude like Parisians and speak Hebrew. Both are a welcome change from the tiny town atmosphere of the Kibbutz. What a pleasure to go into a coffee shop and not know anyone!

That being said, it was wonderful to return to the Kibbutz for the final party at the Arava Institute, and attend the last PELS session the next day. There’s nothing like a final ceremony full of love, tears, and speeches of admiration to make one question one’s decision to leave a place. In fact, my decision to leave didn’t exactly come all at once, but was the product of many swings back and forth, earning me tongue-in-cheek award of “Best Decision Maker” for the “most impressive balancing act” awarded by “cirque de soleil sans frontiers” at the closing ceremony, a multi-level reference to both my characteristic indecision and my now well-practiced ability of slack-line walking. But, with no regrets, I’m taking all the incredible memories and friendships with me now into the future, and I’m going to be applying what I’ve learned for the rest of my life. I’m trying to wipe the word mistake from my vocabulary. After a final round of capoeira and a last soccer game in the field, one more trip to the kibbutz convenience store and one more meal at the cafeteria, one more check in the communal laundry to make sure that there were no clothes in my spot a month after I dropped them off and about 500 hugs later, half of us hopped on the bus up to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, some for a month off before returning and many to leave the institute entirely. I have a feeling I’ll be back someday, in some capacity.

And now I find myself in Tel Aviv again, staying with my friend Itai and taking advantage of the debaucherous big city with some Arava comrades, going to a wonderfully too serious for its own good Indie show on Friday night, and to a fantastic Turkish-modern mash-up show (think twelve bar blues and Britney Spears’ Toxic on an Oud, a Q’noun, and Turkish Drums) at a classy bar last night followed by a trip to a gay bar with the best DJ I’ve heard since I got to Israel. Oh yeah, and finishing up the rest of my work from the Institute.

And one more thing about Tubishvat. The best time to plant a tree is yesterday.  For serious.  Enjoy this article by Rabbi Michael, one of the Arava Faculty.