Today marks the end of our first official week in Ramla. 7 days ago, 9 strangers (one house mate is still on the way); became roommates, and we are still working out the little kinks and quirks that will make this house our home until ISC 4 ends in January. Most of us had just finished up with our Birthright trips right before moving in, but for some, this was their first time in Israel. We are from all over the US, but coincidentally enough, I ended up rooming with Talia, who lives 5 minutes away from me in New Jersey!

There has been a lot of activity going on in and around the house since we moved in. During one of our first mornings here, our house mom, Chava, brought over a small army of local women who cooked a breakfast feast of traditional Israeli dishes. There were a few feeble attempts to help, but mostly we stood and watched in awe as dish after dish appeared on the table. The way we devoured the food, you would think that we hadn’t eaten for weeks! Most of the women who came over didn’t speak any English, and only some of us speak Hebrew, but we managed little by little to help each other. When they left, we couldn’t thank they fast enough for our first proper introduction to proper Israeli cuisine. In fact, when Chava announced on Thursday who our Shabbat families would be, and we heard that Jonathon was being “adopted” by one of our cooks, we were all incredibly jealous!

Those ladies were just our first taste of the hospitality that we are going to encounter here in Ramla. It is obvious that we are foreign, but because there have been 2 past ISC groups here, most everyone in town has heard of “The American House,” and were so excited to see us around town. Even the sherut driver knew who we were on first glance as we nervously boarded his bus for our first trip to the local supermarket. Everyone in town has been so warm and inviting to us, and practically demanded in that sweet Israeli way that we “must call them if we need anything, especially if we get hungry!” It’s only been a few days and already we are feeling very loved here in Ramla.

We also had our first official house party. From what we have been told, going to a house party is a foreign concept for most Israelis; usually they go to bars of clubs. Nonetheless, we were really excited to see all the new friends we made stop by, including our new friends in town and those we made on Birthright, both soldiers and participants. We also learned another important lesson - that once Israelis start partying, they don’t stop until the sun comes up.

For the past week we have been visiting lots of different locations around town, hoping to feel out where we will be the happiest when we volunteer. For of our activities, we got split up into 2 teams and were told to go on a scavenger hunt, looking for different buildings and locations. Some of us went to Attatidim, which is one of the local high schools that is known for its amazing journalism and broadcasting department. We also checked out Mercaza Sport, which is an enormous tennis and sports complex in town. Today we went to the local senior center to meet the director and some of the elderly in Ramla. Boy, were we shocked when we saw the place. It’s a beautiful complex not too far from our house with all the amenities you would see on a cruise ship! After discovering a room with recliners and a flat screen, not to mention a small beauty parlor, card room, and “relaxation room,” we unanimously agreed that it pays to be old! We also learned another lesson and saw another beautiful side of Ramla; that its inhabitants are from all corners of the world. While visiting the senior center, we sat down to play bingo with the residents, and even though we are in the middle of Israel, we heard pockets of Spanish, Russian, English, French, and of course Hebrew. It was definitely a little frustrating to be there because we it was clear that the residents loved having us there, and were eager to talk to us, but most of us could not understand what they were saying in Hebrew. But if anything, that will make us work extra hard when we start Ulpan.

It’s clear that the language barrier is the biggest, if only obstacle that we are having here. It seems like after so many days exploring all that Ramla has to offer, the wheels in our heads have been turning, and we are coming up with more and more ways to volunteer here. But first we have to figure out how to communicate with those that don’t speak English. We are beyond thrilled that we are able to go to Ulpan, and everyone in town has been really sweet in allowing us to practice what few words we do know in incredibly broken and butchered Hebrew.

We all left friends and family when we came to Israel for this program, and its clear that not only did we form our own little micro family, but that we are being welcomed with open arms into the Ramla community.

Written by Diana

Shalom! I cannot believe that ISC 4 hasn’t even started yet and already I’m blogging! I am very happy that I was able to visit Ramla last week while I was in Israel. I was already in Israel because I was staffing an Oranim birthright trip, and I had already arranged to extend my stay by 2 days so that I could visit Ramla. After an amazing but exhausting 10 days of birthright, I put my participants on their plane home on Tuesday, May 15th, and then promptly fell asleep until 2 pm the next day! Luckily Erez and I had arranged to meet at 4 pm. After arriving at the airport and feeling very proud of myself for getting there all on my own, Erez and Todd picked me up and we drove to Ramla. I must admit, I really had no idea what to expect about the town, simply because of the underwhelming response I got from people when I told them where I would be living for 5 months. Add to that my lack of sleep from the previous 10 days and I really had no idea what I was getting into!

Our first stop in Ramla was to the community center so that I could meet Chava, our house “mom.” After meeting her, I knew that I would have an amazing experience working with her in the community. It’s pretty hard to stay tired when someone is hugging you and repeatedly calling you “yoffi!”

After a quick look around the community center we all settled into her office to talk about the program, about what her role in the community was, etc. I was also able to meet Maya, whose nickname I believe is “Mother Maya” because she is mom to everyone in the community. I also got a quick tour of the outside yard area, which is hopefully going to the location of ISC 4’s group project.

After we said our goodbyes, Erez drove Todd and me to the house. It was really nice having Todd with me because he was a participant of ISC 1, and because he had already lived in Ramla the previous year, he gave me a running commentary of the town while Erez drove.

I had been told that the ISC house was in the nicer part of town, but I didn’t expect it to be as nice as it was! Its not that Ramla is so poor, its that most of the housing is apartments, as it is in Tel Aviv, so I was used to seeing apartments everywhere. I did not expect the house to be as big as it was. With big bedrooms upstairs, downstairs, and several bathrooms, this is definitely going to be a great place to live! We also have a really cute patio area outside, and I can already see my new housemates and me hanging out together under the stars.

ISC 2 is still going on, so once inside the house I got to meet a few of the participants who were more than happy to give me a tour and let me poke around by myself. After hanging out for a little while, Todd and I decided to walk through town and take a sherut (small bus) back to Tel Aviv, rather than have Erez drive us. Todd and I made a pitstop at the famous shwarma stand 3 blocks from the house. In keeping with ISC tradition, I will definitely be spending a lot of time there! The owner even gave me a many counting lesson in Hebrew before giving me my soda. For future reference, “sheva” means 7!

The walk through the town to the sherut really helped because it gave me a feel for the area. I know that I will be traveling back and forth to Tel Aviv a lot, because I have friends there and also just because I really love it there. Even though my Hebrew is minimal right now, I know that I will have no trouble getting around by myself.

I had been very excited about ISC before my day in Ramla, but afterwards I really did not want to leave! I honestly had no idea what to expect when I got to Ramla; but after seeing it with my own eyes, I had no idea it was possible to be this excited. I truly cannot wait to work with Chava in the community. I’m so looking forward to living in the house with my new roommates, becoming a part of the Ramla community, and just living in Israel! I really hope that the next 2 months pass quickly, because even writing this blog is making me a little sad that I cannot be in Israel right now!

Written by Diana Diner, Future ISC 4 Participant

I have always been fiercely independent, sometimes to my own detriment. Ever since childhood, I have insisted upon finding my own way. I will take the unexamined path under all circumstances, and against everyone’s better advice. It was with this attitude that upon graduating from a prestigious university with a highly specialized (and painfully received) degree, I decided against going into the career I had been so well trained for. But with this came the realization that I had no idea what to do with my life. After 5 months of twiddling my thumbs, I signed on for a 5 month volunteering program in a small, underprivileged community in Israel. A chain of events had left my Jewish identity abandoned, and I wanted to rekindle it. As a child, the love of Israel had been ingrained in my soul, both by my parents, themselves huge Israel supporters, and by my Zionistic, conservative Jewish day school. It was time for me to make the journey myself.

I arrived in Ramla that first day with a heart full of optimism. To me, everything was brilliant-the colors, the streets, the opportunity for good deeds. I paid no heed to anything that didn’t paint a pretty picture. This was my new home and I couldn’t wait to be a part of it. Within a few weeks, though, the brilliance of that rose-colored world wore off, and I began to see Ramla for what it really appears-a small, poor, littered town with perhaps more than its fair share of problems. I began to wonder how I could ever make a difference in a place like this with only a few months at my disposal. I had never set out to change the world, but the problems in Ramla were overwhelming. Soon, though, I discovered that there is redemption in Ramla-its citizens. The kindest, most welcoming people you will ever meet live in Ramla. Many of them were so thrilled to have Americans coming to their home that they opened their world to us with open arms. They knew that the chance for their children to have a better life was to learn English, something most people in Ramla did not know. And to have an American teach them was more than they could ever ask for. Members of the community invited us into their homes, to their children’s birthday parties, and the thing which I will forever hold dearest to my heart, their Shabbat dinners.

I was privileged enough to have a host family for Shabbat. By the end of the very first dinner, I was already invited back for their weekly ritual-Couscous lunches with the whole family every Tuesday. I began to visit my new “family” twice a week. Every time they treated me as one of their own children. I got to know the grandchildren, the friends, and most importantly, the food of these people. Whenever I was feeling down or homesick, I would take the short walk around the corner to see “Eimah Yaffa”, or one of the daughters. When my parents came to Israel for Pesach, there was no question as to where we would be for the Seder-with my Ramla family. Three months later my parents still talk about that Seder. If they had any concerns about me being in Israel alone before, upon meeting my host family, their minds were at ease. And I was, too.

But what about the volunteering, you ask? Well, the idea was to find an interesting way to teach the kids of Ramla English. I quickly fell in love with the after school program at Tabage, the Ethiopian center in town. I wanted to work with one of my loves-art. I figured, what better way to teach English than by drawing, or doing fun crafts. Shortly, though, I saw that the imaginations of these children, the oldest of whom were merely 11 years old, were severely lacking. For whatever the reason, these kids could hardly come up with an idea of something to draw on their own. Many of them, I soon learned, came from backgrounds in which they were battered, and soon my focus changed from teaching English, to teaching imagination. If I could get these kids to be kids-to dream and wonder and draw in color, then I would have been successful. I drew from my past experience with art therapy, and took ideas from everything around me. The most successful exercise was a time when I gave them a picture of a spaceship, and asked them to imagine a world they could only reach by spaceship, and to show me what it looked like. While most of the kids just copied the picture of the spaceship I had drawn, one girl drew candy and chocolate, stating that she wanted to go to “the sweet world”. At this moment, I knew my time was being well spent.

Throughout the rest of my time at Tabage, I became friendly with the regular staff there, as I often had to go to them for help with discipline, my Hebrew, or ideas of activities. But I also became close to the kids. During a parade in honor of “Yom Yerushalim”, one girl grabbed my hand and walked with me the whole way. I no longer felt like an American outsider spending a matter of months here, but someone these kids looked up to. Even when they would yell and pay me no heed, I can hope that one day they will look back on their American friend and smile. I may have taught them a few words in English, and opened up their imaginations, but from them I also learned. I learned I do not have the patience for teaching. I learned from them the gem that is an imagination, and I learned about the resilience of children.

But working with the Tabage kids was not enough for me. By the time Pesach rolled around, I was itching for something more. It was recommended to me to spend two hours a day serving lunch at a day center for the elderly. My first instinct was that old people scare me, and I wouldn’t be able to work with them. But then I realized I was here to do something good, and opening myself up to new things was par for the course. I accepted, and after a few days of shyness on my part, I finally opened up. These people were hilarious, even more so when I didn’t understand a word they said. They were caring. Sure they would yell at me for not getting them food fast enough, but they would always leave me with a smile, a handshake, and wishing me health, or asking when I would be back. Over time, working at the center became routine. There were days when everyone was angry, and there were days when I spent two hours laughing and smiling. It was at this center where I spent the most meaningful Holocaust remembrance day of my life. I was surrounded by survivors, and while it pained me to not understand as they told their stories, I was able to be there. And when the school next door came over that day, I saw the old people and the children, together, singing Hatikvah, and I realized the hope for the Jews, and for Israel. Here I learned that no matter what life throws you, each day is new, a blessing, and enjoy it for right now. From the old people I learned that I, in fact, LOVE working with old people.

I have never been good at handling change. I don’t like saying goodbye and I don’t like things coming to end. But with ISC, when the time came, I knew it was right. I had to open the way for a new group. I’m not going to pretend that everything was peaches and cream-I certainly ran into a fair share of problems along the way. But this is the way of life. But when it was my time to leave, both Tabage and the center gave me the most touching goodbyes a girl could ask for. The old people wished me so much luck and begged me to come back to visit. The children hugged me and drew me pictures. The staff at both places, my friends in this crazy place, gave me gifts and warm wishes, and an outpouring of love.

And what happened to me during this time? Well, I became truly independent. I may have thought I was independent before, but after 6 months in a strange country on my own, I learned how far independence can go. It is hard to explain, but let’s just say I grew more than I knew I needed to. I learned to throw caution and plans to the wind, and to allow life to happen. I learned to relax. I learned not to relax. I learned a new language-and while my Hebrew is maybe a bit shy of what I would call conversational, it is enough to make it through 6 months in a town that does not speak English. I learned to love and I learned that it’s ok to fall out of love. I learned that baked goods just don’t taste the same in a different country…no matter how many times you fix the recipe. I learned the proper way to drink tea. I learned that when you are sick in Israel, there is always someone caring about you. Even if you are healthy, in Israel, there is always someone caring for you. Most of all, I learned that I still have no clue where I’m going or what I want to do with my life, but I learned to accept that and allow myself to sit back and enjoy.

Post by Kate Cohen

Today is Yom Hashoah, the (specific, calendar given) day when we remember the victims of the Holocaust. In Israel, this is a national day of remembrance that is like nothing I have ever seen. In America, we have Memorial day, in which we are supposed to remember the soldiers who have died in combat, but let’s be honest, how do we remember them? We have huge sales in all the stores, have barbecues, and in general revel in having a day off from our lives.

In Israel, we REMEMBER this tragedy in our history. Everyone goes to work, school, what have you. But at 10 am, a siren sounds throughout the country, and no matter where you are, in your office, classroom, on the road in your car…you stop, you stand, for two minutes you are silent in memory of those who perished in the Holocaust. There is a great picture on Haaretz.com of the middle of the Tel-Aviv highway with all the cars stopped in the middle of the road and the people standing outside of their cars.

So how did I commemorate? I was lucky enough to be invited to the ceremony (Tekes) at the elderly home where I serve lunch. Yesterday, I was told to arrive at 9.30 and wear a white shirt. When I get there, there is cleaning up to be done from breakfast, so I help with that. In general, it seems like a normal day, except that I am at the center earlier than normal. Around 9.50, Ofra, the director of the center who is the only one there who speaks English (and speaks it well) comes in and tells me to start setting up a table in the center of the room and grab a big plate that we put candles on for the folks to light during their ceremony. While we are both setting up, I ask her if their are survivors in the center and she looks up and looks me straight in the eye and says “Of course…” and then we continue working. At this point it gets very rushed as everyone is looking at the clock for when the siren will sound. Just as we think we are ok and we have a few minutes left, the siren beings. It doesn’t just start at full blast, but it begins slowly, softly, and then sort of revs up to full blast. I walked over to the doorway of the eating room that lead out onto a porch and overlooked a street outside so I could get the full experience, and this is what happened during the siren blaring:

There were police cars in the street, and policemen and women standing guard, silently, outside their doors. The cars that were driving stopped, or pulled into a parking lot across the way, and EVERYONE opened their doors, got out of their cars, and stood in silence. The traffic lights continued to change as if for no one. Inside, I was with the people of that generation. All who had the ability to stand, did, even if it was difficult for them. There were some who were sobbing. There was one woman who began to bawl the second the siren started. As the ceremony continued, she continued crying the whole way through. She would sit when she needed to and stand when she felt the ability return to her. She was sitting at a table alone, unlike many of the others, so at one point I went over to her and put my arm around her, because I didn’t know what else to do. She immediately started telling me her story, and I have never in my life been in so much pain not to understand someone. My biggest problem in Hebrew right now is simple being able to make out the words when I hear them, and understanding when people talk to me. Besides that she was crying, and I could not understand a single word she was saying. She was obviously a survivor and telling me what happened to her. I wanted to know SO badly, and I wanted to be able to listen to her and I know she wanted me to hear her story, but I couldn’t, and I kept almost ORDERING myself to understand, but apparently that’s not how it works. in the end, I just listened, I hugged her, and tried my best to make her feel not alone. The one thing I did understand her say was “I want to forget. I want to forget what happened but I can’t. I see it always in my eyes. I hear the screams. It is always there with me and will never go away”.

The second the siren ended, one man immediately began saying the mourners Kaddish. When he finished, I faintly heard the sound of the children singing in their ceremony from the school next door. It was a perfect moment I wish I could make up but actually happened-the remembrance of the dead and immediately the voices of the future drifting in.

After that, the ceremony began. Other survivors from the group told their stories, or read stories or poems written by people during the Holocaust. Everyone lit little tea light candles, and a few lit Yarzeit (remembrance) candles (they burn for 24 hours). Some of the survivors in the group had brought BAGS of what looked like 25 or so candles. I don’t know if this was just their stock or if they were lighting all of them today, but it was a sight to see. The mourner’s Kaddish was said again. Throughout the entire ceremony, the survivors remained standing as much as they could. They would sit, and then stand up again when they were able. It was very moving, and again, I didn’t understand most of it, some, but not nearly as much as I wanted, but to be there, see their faces, and see the Jewish people continuing to live after such a tragedy was amazing. In Israel, we are not assimilating, we are not forgetting who we are. We are one nation, living together, supporting each other, and you see it, FEEL it everyday. And that is why these people are here.

After the Tekes (ceremony) we served coffee/tee/biscuits, cause it was eating time again (it IS a Jewish place, after all) and then at some point, the kids from the school next door came over and did their ceremony for the old folks. They did little interpretive dances, and read some statements. It was very reminiscent of all the times I did things like that when I was in grade school. At this age, they can’t understand how much what they were doing means, that it’s just another performance that they do on a holiday. But I could see in the faces of the people in the center that it meant the world. And I looked at the faces of the children and saw that this is what the Nazis feared. The Jewish people, generations later, living, breathing, singing dancing. It’s corny, but they are the future, and it was wonderful on this day to see that.

At the end of their ceremony, they sang hatikvah. It was the kids and the elderly singing together. You could hear their young, innocent voices, mixing with that of the voices of those with a past, who have seen the world and the crimes and everything in between. And they sang, one song together, speaking of the hope and the nation belonging to us all. And in those moments, we will not forget.

Posted by Kate

Here in Ramla the ISC #2 group is settling in and feeling more and more at home and a part of the community. When we first arrived, Erez and Chava, our coordinator and house mom greeted us with friendly Israeli smiles. The seven of us began to unpack, found rooms, but most importantly get to know the people we will be living with for the next five months.

Picking suitable ulpan classes took a couple of weeks because we have different Hebrew experience between us. However, we’re now settling into our niches in the vast and diverse Hebrew-studying community here in Ramla.

After working out chores, errands, and shared costs we are now able to spend our time going out in Ramla and neighboring cities, like Tel Aviv. But we also enjoy just hanging out at our house and inviting over our new Israeli friends who we met here.

Volunteering is also getting underway, as Chava helps us schedule our time between different projects that interest us. On a personal note, Laura and I are starting an a cappella group with middle school and high school kids here. We are hoping to introduce a cappella music to the younger generation living in Ramla, and give them an opportunity to speak and better understand English as we make music together.

We’re definitely starting off on the right foot here in Ramla, getting more familiar with our new friends (American and Israeli) and beginning to see the potential impact we can have in this melting pot of Israel.

Tu B’Shevat, the Jewish New Year of Trees, has long been my favorite holiday. As a vegetarian and wilderness enthusiast, how could I not love a holiday that celebrates nature and its fruits? Just a couple of weeks ago, me and the other members of the Israel Service Corps were lucky enough to celebrate it in Israel.

It began with an invitation to a community tree planting in a neighborhood near our house, where many of the kids we work with live. We all worked together to dig holes and plant various seedlings around the courtyards of their apartment blocks. It was a great opportunity to help them do something that they will derive benefit from for years, long after we have all left Ramla. After the tree planting, I noticed some boys explaining to others that I am the new soccer coach, so I used the opportunity to get a ball and gather the boys for a quick game with the ISC 2 volunteers.

Due to the fact that Tu B’Shevat fell on Shabbat this year, our formal celebration had to be delayed until Sunday, a rainy day when we joined the members of Israel Service Corps 3 – Go Galilee for a day of exploration in Jerusalem. The rain did not stop the group tree planting organized by MASA on Kibbutz Nachshon. We joined about 500 participants of other MASA programs to bury our seedlings in mud and celebrate literally becoming one with the land of Israel, as it covered our shoes in a thick layer of the homeland. We then proceeded on to visit the military cemetery at Mount Herzl and the newer multimedia museum about Herzl’s life. After a quick jaunt out into the rain to see the menorah in front of the Knesset, we capped our day off with a visit to a giant cow slide, complete with three tongues for a wet and muddy sliding experience. After most of the groups’ pants were soaked through, we headed home to get ready for our seder.

When I had found out earlier that no one else in the group had ever done a Tu B’Shevat seder, I knew I had to organize one, to share the fun of this tradition with them. So, after drying out a little bit, I gathered all of our various fruits and nuts and a Hagaddah from the JNF and we had a festive meal, complete with 4 glasses of wine, plenty of good bounty from Israel, dancing, and games. It was an enjoyable holiday seder and I hope that it helped the rest of the group see why I am so fond of this holiday.

All-in-all, my first Tu B’Shevat in Israel was a great one and I look forward to celebrating many more familiar holidays in a new way, finally in my homeland.

I started playing soccer at age eight, a time when this was still an unusual thing to do in America. But, I loved it and gave up many other sports to pursue competitive soccer, a choice that suited me well in my travels around soccer-crazy Europe. After graduating from college, I realized that becoming a coach was something that put my love for the sport and experience with children together in a wonderful way and I set out to make an impact of kids’ views of competitive sports. I spent a total of 9 seasons with various teams in Arkansas, both co-ed and girls, developing not only athleticism and knowledge of the sport, but focusing on teamwork, support, good sportsmanship, problem solving, critical thinking, and fun. My philosophy of coaching, always one of positive reinforcement, was well received and most of my players continued to return each season. One of the hardest things for me, after deciding to come to Israel, was to leave the group of kids I had been working with for 5 seasons. I knew I would miss coaching a great deal.

When making the decision to become a corps member, I spent a lot of time considering where I would fit into Ramla. A town of many immigrants, without the funding to offer organized soccer to children cost-free, Ramla seemed a great place for me to use my soccer experience. So I have now set out on a journey to impact as many youth as I can and share the joys of organized soccer, in a supportive and positive way. I have already begun programming through local community centers that serve mostly the Ethiopian immigrant community and am slowly introducing formal rules, as well as sportsmanship and leadership to the boys playing with me. Also, I am in the planning stage for a coexistence group of Arab and Jewish girls that I hope will show the girls not only the benefits of soccer, but also of becoming friends. In the future, I will also partner with the Municipality of Ramla in the creation of a small youth league, under a grant from the Cities Without Violence project. In time, other teams may form where I discover a need for this type of experience in the community.

I have big dreams for these teams that I hope will continue to impact them after I leave Ramla. In addition to at least weekly practices, I hope to organize official games on fields with grass and goals, things the kids are not used to. Also, I would like to host a small-sided tournament in May, so that all the players are able to participate in a fun day of soccer, capped off with awards and an end-of-the-season party. I have also begun to pursue partnerships for donations of money and equipment, hoping to provide each child with his/her own ball, shin guards, soccer socks, and league t-shirt or jersey. My greatest dream for the kids is to establish a partnership with a professional soccer team here in Israel that would lead to us all spending a day in the team’s stadium, giving the kids the chance to meet, play with, and learn from the professionals, finishing the day with watching our new friends in a game in their league. Knowing that some of my dreams are quite big, I also know that they might inspire my players to make dreams of their own, which will help drive them to strive for more for the rest of their lives, which is really my biggest dream.

“Aliza, you are with us. You are from Peru.” Gladys grabbed my hand and pulled it up into the air. It was the Ramla Ulpan Rosh Hashana Party, and the immigrants from Peru had just been called upon to show their national pride. The party was just starting up, and Chana, the Menahelet, director, of the Ulpan was revving up the crowd. She called out the names of countries represented, giving each group a chance to clap and cheer. Peru had just been called, and it was my entire classes turn to show their patriotic enthusiasm. I was prepared to sit silently, but found myself being invited to become part of one of the largest groups of immigrants represented at the Ulpan.

I came to Israel already knowing some Hebrew. I had gone to Jewish Day School for enough years to manage a bit (although I forgot a lot during my later years in public school). With a few exceptions, the rest of my house mates stepped off the plane knowing little more than “Shalom!” My main goal in coming to ISC was to improve my Hebrew enough to consider a longer stay in Israel. We started Ulpan about 2 weeks into the program. After 2 sessions with my house mates I was ready to find the class that suited my level. After trying a few classes I finally found the one that fit. It was like being at a shoe store; you try on every size of a pair of shoes you desperately want, and it’s only the last one on the shelf that is just right. I was put into 3 classes until I settled into the third try. In the small Ramla Ulpan, I was put in the highest level from the start. This is not because my Hebrew is great. It’s only because the Ulpan doesn’t go very high.

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What an opportunity!!! Only a handful of people on earth can say that they spent part of their evening last night with a head of state, more specifically the Prime Minister of Israel, Ehud Olmert. I had known for about 2 weeks that this night would come and that I had been asked to attend the Prime Minister’s Sukkah at his house in Jerusalem on behalf MASA and Oranim to showcase the volunteer program I am currently doing, Israel Service Corps. It was such an honor that I never would have expected. After seeing Prime Minister Olmert take over the position in January after former PM Sharon’s stroke, I never in a million years would have guessed that later that same year I would be invited to his house and have such a great opportunity to speak with him. I had been asked to prepare a 3-5 minute speech telling about myself and about ISC. I was very eager to give the speech in front of such a crowd. For the Sukkah, 50 people had been invited to join the PM, new Immigrants from Russia, Brazil, Mexico, Turkey, Finland, England, Ethiopia, and the US and volunteers from, England, the Netherlands, Mexico, Canada, the US, and South Africa.

So the time had come when the taxi coming from Ramla with my roommate Liza, who was to join me at the Prime Minister’s house, had come to pick me up in Jerusalem where I had been staying for Sukkot. It was 3:45 and we had to be at the PM’s house at 4:15 to meet first with a representative from MASA, Revital Cohen, who was joining us for the event. We got there a few minutes early which was fine because there was so much security between the spot where the taxi dropped us off and the few hundred feet where we waited to enter the PM’s house that it was nice not to be rushed. After passing through the security entrance we were led into the PM’s back yard where there were snacks and refreshments and all of the guests were waiting to be ushered into a large Sukkah that was built abutting his house. I was just hoping one of my friends would call so I could tell them I had no time to speak because I was hanging out the PM’s house.

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When I was stressed and when I was eating poorly, I knew I had one respite: Shabbat. Friday night in Israel is my favorite time of the week. While the weekend in America is a time for people to go out, run errands and complete chores, Shabbat in Israel is truly used as the day of rest, especially in our small city of Ramla.

The holiday starts at about noon on Friday, as most stores (except convenience stores and the shook) close for the week’s end.

In the evening, the city is even quieter than it was during daylight. Nobody drives anywhere because a Bait Cennesset (house of prayer) is minutes away by foot. After dinner, with the entire family gathered in a house or apartment, everyone sits together for Shabbat dinner. While Israelis’ demeanor is far from perfect in their everyday activities, the one thing that sets them apart is everyone’s loyalty, generosity and caring for the mishpachah (family).

Most of us metnadveem (volunteers) don’t have blood relatives in Israel, so each of us was “adopted” by a local family so that we could not only get a good meal on Shabbat but also find a place to feel safe and cared for. I have been fortunate enough to experience Shabbat with my adopted family in Ramla, as well as my real mishpachah (my cousins and aunt whom my brother met nearly 10 years ago but I never saw) in Rananah, a city about 45 minutes away by train.

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