My life in an Arab-Israeli Kitchen, Part 2

My second Sunday in the kitchen was a little busier with everyone there all day.  

This is my sink area, in all it's rather dingy glory.  

 The windows offer a nice view, but are none too clean.

The faucets are confusing and I usually have to turn both sets before water actually comes out.

The spray nozzle does work, I think...but I don't use it.

And we tend to only have hot water at certain times.

The lesson of the day, however, comes from the little beige container on the shelf by the window.  That is the soap container.  I don't really know where the soap comes from, or what type it is...but there's always some in that container, with some water and often a scrubbie-type-thing.  The point is...

NEVER LOOK INSIDE THE SOAP CONTAINER.

You will not like what you see.  You can reach in and "grab" some soap" or the sponge...but never look.  Grab blindly.  It's better that way.  Trust me.

You really don't want  a good look at the odd lumps of....soap?  bread?  something? that you try not to feel floating around.  Nor do you want to see the dead bugs and scum floating on the surface.

Just repeat to yourself, "It's soap.  I'm going to use this nice soap to make my dishes all clean."  Don't think about it.

On the brighter side...there was good food to be had.  

I made caramelized onions.  Cutting onions always makes me cry, especially in large amounts.  And when you caramelize them they get so small...it's a little depressing.  But they are delicious.  I believe these were to go with the Arab-style dish, Mujadarrah.  

I also made two desserts.

Lemon bars for lunch.  (Somehow...we ended up with no less than 3 boxes of lemons in our walk-in.  Large boxes.  This was over a month ago now, so I think we're down to one, partly because some of them started getting moldy and were thrown out.  It's very sad.  But I did use some for lemon bars.)

 Muffin brownies for dinner.  With chocolate pieces in the middle.

And to finish off, this is the serving line at lunch time.  Salads and dessert along the wall.  Mujaddarah and caramelized onions in the warming area, ready to be served.  (At some point, expect a full kitchen tour).

We apologize for the delay in the broadcast of this episode of "My life in an Arab-Israeli Kitchen" and assure you that the series will continue.  :)

Moon Magic

Story #1:

Flashlights bobbed along the trail before and behind us.  It was a warm evening, and as we moved quickly up the hill, sweat beaded on our foreheads and our lungs were put to good use.  For about 20 minutes we hiked and then, as the light of several campfires came into view we stopped.  For they were not actual campfires.  Instead, holes in the earth allow a strange mixture of gases to leak out, and they combust when they reach the surface. The dancing flames are the remains of a phenomena that has awed travelers for millennia: the Chimera.

As we stopped to take in the flames, the star encrusted sky, and the black outlines of the mountains against the horizon, we looked also at the moon, struck by it's odd shape.  It had been almost full the previous night, but now it appeared to have decreased in size again - but in the wrong direction.  The conclusion was inescapable: and eclipse!  So we sat there, by ancient dancing flames and watched the moon be fully eclipsed by the earth's shadow.  Years ago there were pagans who worshiped on this mountain, at these flames, awed by the magic of fire from the earth.  What would they have thought on such a night, with the fires burning and the moon growing dark?  We, however, are blessed to know and are known by the God who ordained these wonders.

Story #2

Under a darkening sky we made our way down the road towards the beach.  Most of the tourists had left with the sun and anyone who might return after dark was still at dinner.  So it was that we were alone when we rounded a curve and came into sight of the bay.  A point of land stuck out, black against the twilight, and on the tip a campfire seemed to burn.  As we walked closer to the water, however, we realized that the yellow light was not that of a fire, but of a huge orange moon that hung just above the horizon.  The reflection in the water shimmered with the same orange glow as we sat down on the pebbled beach to watch it rise higher.

The frog's song, accompanied by the plunk of pebbles in the quiet waves made a perfect accompaniment to the silently, majestically rising moon.

Together with Innocent Smith, we celebrated being alive.   

Travelling

Today I traveled for over 12 hours.  Mostly driving, stopping a few minutes here and there to get gas, go to the bathroom, or, of course, take pictures.  I am fairly certain that one could traverse the entire length of Israel in that time, without even trying very hard.  In comparison, I traveled through only 3 states out of 50:
Colorado,

Wyoming,

Montana. 

(Please forgive the blurry pictures...they were snapped as I quickly passed by.)

And however far I drove, I had no problem reading the road signs (though they did vary from state to state), or talking to people, or understanding the gas pump instructions.

I've been back in the states for well over two months now, but these sorts of things still strike me:
1. The inexplicable luxury of not having to ask for help with the gas pump (because each one asks you to enter different information and none of them "speak" English).
2. The experience of walking down a sidewalk and realizing that, for a change, you are not walking twice as fast as everyone else on that sidewalk.  Some people are even running and passing you!
3. Still walking down said sidewalk and realizing that you have no problem understanding the conversation of the two women walking their dogs nearby.  In Israel I got used to ignoring people - they were rarely talking to me and I could almost never understand what they said anyway.  Here, it's harder to block out ambient conversations because I can actually understand them.
4. Remembering that I can look men in the eyes here, without fear that they will think me a loose women and make an accordingly inappropriate comment.
5. Friendly exchanges, in a language I understand, with complete strangers.  Again, this could happen in Israel, but it was rarer...probably because most gas station attendants were men and prone to be a little creepy.  (See #4.)
6. The immense distances.  The United States is a diverse country, but Israel has almost all the same types of landscapes, stuffed into a much smaller area.  It still amazes me that I can drive for hours without much change in scenery,
here...

 to here...

 to here...

to here.  

 Changes are noticeable, but not dramatic.

7.  The vast emptiness takes my breath away.  One can drive for hours without seeing more than a town or two, each only a couple thousand people.  The immense distances in between, broken only occasionally by a barn or farmhouse, still amaze me.  I love these wide open spaces.  They made me wish I had time to stop the car and explore.  

These sorts of things do make life and traveling easier and more pleasant.  Still, for all it's problems, I miss Israel.  I listened to a story on the way home about an orthodox Jew in Jerusalem.  The descriptions and place names were so familiar - Mea Shearim, Old City, Jaffa Road, Damascus Gate, Khamsin - I could picture it clearly and longed to be there myself.  

For now, however, God has me here, so I will strive to enjoy English and comprehensible gas pumps and huge wide open spaces and other small pleasures of life in these United States.  

Long-Term Planning

I don't know about the rest of you, but my plans for the future include something like this:

For those who missed out on the literary reference, see this.

Seriously though, I have been struck this year, more than ever before, by the slow and steady approach of old age. 

It's not so much that I'm struck by my own mortality or the fact that life can end in an instant.  Life is fragile and tragedies abound in this world, but that is not what has impressed itself upon my consciousness of late.

No.  What has struck me most are the silent but steady ravages of time.  I, along with everyone around me, am growing older.  I've noticed a few more wrinkles, more of a tendency towards aches and pains - just the beginnings of the signs of the passing time.  Friends my age are noticing their first grey hairs or are beginning to lose more hairs than they can hide.  My parents and people their age are beginning to complete their collection of grey hairs and minor aches and pains are becoming constant companions, sometimes even calling for drastic treatments.

The cumulative effect of a long life can be even more clearly seen in my grandparents and other people of their generation.  In the past few years I have watched my grandparents go from being completely independent to needing more and more help and care.  I have watched my parents struggle to help them make the transition.

It's made me think.  

We value independence.  All of our life we are taught and trained to be independent: we learn to stand on our own, walk on our own, go to school on our own, make a living on our own, take care of our family on our own, etc.  We can be willing to accept help when we know we need it (and we are willing to help others in return), but unsolicited help is unwelcome as our pride asserts itself.

So we live, until suddenly people start limiting our independence.  "You can't keep working.  You don't have the strength any more."  "You can't drive your car - you can't see properly!"  "You can't live alone in your house!  You could fall and hurt yourself or even die and no one would know."  "You can't care for your own finances any more.   You keep loosing track of things."  Suddenly we go from being productive member of society to being a burden.  Suddenly we realize that the work and play activities we've enjoyed for years are no longer possible for us.  Quietly, softly, our dreams slip out of our grasp.

No wonder my grandparents have struggled, contradicting the advice of their well-meaning children, insisting that they are fine, that everything is unecessary.

"I don't need a hearing aid!"

"Of course I can keep feeding the cows this winter!"

"I don't need a cane/walker/wheel chair."

"If only I had my own house again, things would be better."

When we are no longer allowed to be independent, a trait we have cultivated all our life, what are we to do?

With these ponderings I am left with many questions.  

How can I help my grandparents at this time?

How can I prepare for the time when my own parents will have to make that transition?

How can I prepare myself?  The thing is, a

t this point in my life I have a hard time planning anything further in advance than next week.  Things are so uncertain that I'm not sure what I'll be doing next week, much less next month.  However, it is fairly likely, whatever happens in the meantime, that someday I too will face infirmity and old age.  I want to be practicing habits of mind and character now that will serve me well then.  Perhaps I can work on admitting weakness and accepting help.  Perhaps I can work on being content in situations where things are not going as I would wish.  

It's something I'm still thinking through.  

How are you preparing?

* Apologies to my family for using you for examples in this latest pondering.  I hope you don't mind!  Love you all!

Tales from the road

This weekend I spent about a day and a half road-tripping around Montana, which led to a number of unrelated humorous incidents.

1. Bull Mountains
You ever wonder how places get their names?  My sister and I were driving along, passing from a flatter area into a slightly more hilly area when we passed a sign: "Bull Mountains."

 Yes.  As you see.  Larissa and I looked around and thought, "Mountains?  What mountains?  That's just Bull Do-do! ....Oh...."  And then all was clear.

2. Mecca Bar
Fairly shortly after that we passed a bar.  The Mecca Bar.  I still can't quite believe that is the actual name, but I double checked the sign...  I am sure that people make pilgrimages there from all over Montana for their world-famous beer.  Ironic, since any actual Meccan beer is bound to be terrible.

3. Oh Deer!
Deer in Montana are notorious for being on the road at the wrong place at the wrong time.  The one below is one of the smarter ones we saw - no where near a road.

Roundup, however, apparently has very well trained deer.  As we drove down the street we noticed a group of three deer on the side walk, the one in front intently studying the street in search of cars.  As soon as we had passed we could just about hear her say, "Ok guys, it's all clear now!  Let's go!"  And I watched them cross in my rear-view mirror.

4. Animals Dead Ahead
Of course, anywhere you go, when you see a bunch of bird circling around an area some ways in front of you, it's always a sign that there are animals dead ahead!  (And sure enough, when we got closer, a less intelligent deer was dead on the side of the road.)

5. Mount Tabor?  Jordan?
As always, I miss Israel.  This hill reminded me of Mount Tabor.

And who knew that one could drive to Jordan from here?

Waiting

It's not an easy task, but it's one that seems to occupy much of life.  When school is in session we wait for the weekend, the next vacation, or for the glorious summer break.  The last few weeks of summer are spent waiting (some people with eager anticipation, some people with fear and loathing) for school to start again.  In grade school you wait to be one of the "big kids."  Much of High School is spent anticipating college and much of college, anticipating life after school.  We seem to  be always looking to the next step, whether near or far.  

"I can't wait for dinner!"
"I can't wait for summer!"
"I can't wait to make new friends!"
"I can't wait for my birthday!"
"I can't wait to graduate!"
"I can't wait to get married!"
"I can't wait until I know what to do with my life!"
"I can't wait until I have kids!"
"I can't wait until I have grandkids!"

Of course, we actually can (and do) wait, sometimes with more patience and contentment than others.

I have had, I suppose, my fair share of waiting, most often for school to transition to summer and then back.  I generally enjoy both the school year and the summer, but that transition is a welcome change every year.  Up until now, though, most of my waiting has had a certain ending point in sight: summer will begin on a set date, and school will start up, as scheduled, in the fall.*  There is a sense of waiting and anticipation, but not a whole lot of uncertainty.

It's somewhat different this time around.

It seemed clear that God wanted me back in Israel this fall.  Doors were opening.  Even before doors opened I had decided that I wanted to go back.  It seemed like a pretty clear next step with fairly clear timing.

It hasn't quite worked out as I hoped.  The doors are still there and will still probably open fully in time, but I have no idea when that time will be, and there's really nothing I can do about it.

So what DO I do?  I try to be content here, though many times I find myself longing for Israel.  I try to find things to do here while not committing to too much time.  I try to reconnect with friends and family while still staying in touch with friends from Israel.  I'm not really sure where to strike the balance, so I pray a lot for wisdom, guidance, and patience.

I don't know why, in God's providential plan, I have suddenly encountered this obstacle.  I know, though, that He has a reason.  I just hope that I learn what He's teaching and/or do the job that He has for me here.

*I should note here that this sort of waiting differs greatly from the sort of waiting that involves other people.  It is much more difficult to schedule when you will meet friends, get married, or have children (unless, of course, you are already engaged or pregnant - that usually makes the planning a little more certain).

Torn

Torn.  That single word pretty aptly sums up much of my feelings about life at this point.  If I were to have any superpower, I think I would choose to be able to bend the space-time continuum so that I could be in two or more places at one time.  Either that or flying.  I'd really like to be able to fly.  But the superpower debate aside, it would be really nice to be in two places at the same time.  I have a feeling I'm not the only person to feel this inner pressure, either.  Perhaps it is a side-effect of our modern life, with the ease of travel and the lack of necessity to stay together as a family and run the family farm.  It's easy to get spread out.  My family is strung out across the nation, my friends around the globe.  (At least none of them are in space yet.)  I am incredibly blessed to know so many great people, but it makes it harder to be constantly missing most of them.

You may have noticed from the last few posts that I am greatly enjoying being back in the States, and in general I do try to practice contentment where ever I happen to be at the time.  Still, I feel especially torn just now, wanting to be back in Israel for the start of school.  It's not going to happen.  Indeed, I still remain very uncertain about when I will get back to Israel, though I remain hopeful that it will be soon.  I have unfinished business there, so to speak, and that longing can at times make my enjoyment of Montana a little, well, mixed.

For example...

I love that I can find various igneous and sedimentary rocks (with clearly identifiable minerals) right in my driveway (accompanied by one of my many adorable cousins).

Layne and her rocks

But thinking about rocks now always reminds me of limestone, and that rock type which is pervasive in Israel is conspicuously absent from our driveway collection.

Love that Senonian chalk

I enjoy re-familiarizing myself with horseback riding (and remembering muscles I had forgotten existed).

But...it kind of reminds me of riding camels across the desert.  

I love picking the relatively plentiful wild berries and taking pictures of the beautiful wild flowers...

...but they remind me of my struggle to become familiar with Israeli plants, which are so different from Montanan plants.  

You get the picture.  

In the end, I am blessed to have both places as a part of my life.  And hopefully someday I will learn the lesson Sam had to learn:

"Your time may come.  Do not be too sad, Sam.  You cannot be always torn in two.  You will have to be one and whole, for many years.  You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do." 

~Frodo, The Return of the King

For now, at least...

My home's in Montana

I wear a bandanna,

My spurs are silver,

My pony is grey.

While out on the ranges

My luck never changes

With foot in the stirrup

I gallop away!

Though my home may not always be here, I do love this place.  Leaving for a time and then coming back serves to remind me of the little delightful things that I tend to take for granted.  

I would say "God bless Montana," but He clearly already did. ;)

So, in honor of Montana, here are a few of the wonderful (or strange) things I get to see around here on a regular basis. 

1. Mountains.   

Oh how I love the mountains.  

Sometimes, when you're lucky, the mountains will even have cows in front of them.

Or, better yet, fields of ripening wheat.

Or...cabins that I intend to own someday.

2. Spectacular sunsets.

 And sometimes, spectacular moon-sets.

 3. Clouds, rain, and rainbows.

These, of course, are not exclusive to Montana, but they were severely missing in my last few months in Israel.

4.  Animals.

Wild animals.

Funny farm animals.

Even sunset-silhouetted animals.

5. Tall grass.  (Again, not exclusive, but sadly lacking in Israel in summer.)

6. Farm Equipment.

Sometimes VERY LARGE farm equipment.

Sometimes you can even watch said equipment from your bedroom window, as it cuts hay under a waxing half moon.

7. Stars.

And, if these pictures have convinced you that Montana is a place you need to visit, here are some suggestions for activities once you get here:

1. Fixing fence.  There are always fences to be fixed.  Funny farm animals must be kept in their place.

2. Hang slightly illogical signs in random places.  This seems to be a common hobby.

3.  Practice looking cool in front of murals painted on buildings.  Clearly this model has the practice down flat.

4. Put flowers in your hair and pick wild strawberries.

5. Wade into cold rivers and stand there until you can't feel your feet and hope to catch dinner while not catching a cold.  

 6. Or, my personal favorite, go for a hike or two.

Yes, these are but a few of the delights that could await you in the great state of Montana.  I, for one, am enjoying them, as, I hope, are the other Montana dwellers.  For the rest of you, any one want to visit?