Sorry for not writing much, but to be honest, there's not much to write about. Whereas India was a constant stream of new and exciting experiences all the time, Israel is more about hanging out, working, and living a chill repetitive lifestyle for a bit.

During the days of the week (sunday through friday), I work from 8ish to 3ish. I don't really have a set job yet, so I've been doing different things every day, such as laundry, dish washing, cleaning chicken coops, cutting down trees, etc. The rest of the afternoons cosist of hanging out, messing around, and generally doing nothing, which I love. We are truly in the middle of the desert, so its fun to explore things having to do with that. The other day we biked out maybe a mile into the desert to watch the sunset, which was beautiful.

We've done a lot of the sightseeing stuff already on MBI, and I'm sure we're going to get to the Kotel again, but as for right now, our weekends have been just hanging out with our friends on Workshop. They have houses in Akko and Karme'el, so we've been going up there or to Tel Aviv.

That's pretty much it for now. Unless something pretty incredible happens, I'm probably not going to write for a little bit. Check back around mid april when I'll be sure to be writing a lot about africa.

In Israel

I'm in Israel and everything is good. We got in saturday morning and hung out in Tel Aviv. The next day, we travelled up to Akko and Carmiel to see our workshop friends which was a good time. Once we got our bags the airport lost, we headed down to our assigned kibbutz, which is Kibbutz Revivim, about 30 minutes of Ber Sheva, in the Negev Desert.

It's a cool place here. The kibbutz supposedly is the biggest milk supplier of Israel, with 800 cows. we don't have our jobs assigned yet, so we've just been chilling with the volunteer coordinator named goldie. He's and old hilarious dude from australia. I'll write more later.

later India

So I'm leaving tonight. Stuffs been great. Here's some photos:

One extremely angry midget

Varanasi

This past weekend, we went to Varanasi,and it was insane. We indulged ourselves and flew, which was great because a twelve hour train became a one hourflight.

We got there and navigated the narrow streets to our hostel, which was a niceplace overlooking the Ganges (or as the Indianscall it, the Ganga). I can't say enough about how cramped the town was. One walks out the door and is more or less completely lost in less than a minute. The streets get as narrow as 2 to 3 feet, and still you have people, cows, and motorcycles all trying to get through without stopping.

Saturday, we walked around a lot. We went to the Golden Temple, which was a huge, but organized free-for-all.It was like all of India in one tiny temple; somehow it just works. there were these huge lines of people criss-crossing all over waiting to stand infront of different idols (mostly shiva) for a few seconds to say a few words and throw some flowers on top. While all of this is going on, monkeys are running all over the place, people are putting all sorts of clay and powder on your face, and others are spraing water all over the floor.

After that, we decided to make it down to the Ghats, which are theseries of named steps going right down to the riverside. We followed some random guy who wanted to show us the "cremations." We didn't really know what to think, but we followed him, nd as it turns out, he wasn't lying. Varanasi is a place where peoplefrom all over India go to die. The result is this hospice by the river filled with the old and destitute. When they die, they are openly cremated in the bonfires by the side of the river. It was a pretty wierd and gruesome thing to come across, but that's Indian culture, and that's life.

That night, our hotel provided a boat, and from the river, we watched the daily ceremony to the Ganga river performed by the ocal Brahmans. More or less a thousandpeople showed up to watch. The ceremony consisted of many repeated handmotions involving featers, rice, inscense, and cups of fire.

Beyond that, not that much happened thats worth writing about. We met some cool dudes from Chile, and an old Brit named Paul. Varanasi was a very chill place, and it was nice to relax a little bit and be away from Delhi.

This is our last week. It's a little sad to be leaving the kids, but I can't wait for Israeil, so generally things are pretty great.

Below: Streets of Varanasi and me trying to row a boat

Taj Mahal

We had a day off from work, so the girls and I headed to the Taj Mahal, which is only a three hour train ride.

I don't really know what else to say besides that it is an incredible monument. It was wierd to finally see it after all the pictures one sees growing up or whatever. The thing is huge, and is covered in intricate carvings and inlayed designs.

For some reason the train home was 6 hours, but its cool, because I've come to expect nothing to ever run on time or be normal in any way. But if there is one thing I have been growing tired of, its the constant flow of people trying to get money from me. Almost everywhere you go, one is constantly begged at (not begged to), by every person in need. On the train, dirty children will come, sweep beneath your feet for a minute, and then demand money. On the street, people with no legs will crawl over to you to beg. You get ripped off in most stores and in taxis/rickshaws because we are just "dumb rich Americans"(the prices are still reasonable by our standards, but still, the principle). I'm just tired of the constant negotiating, and can't wait to get to Israel for that reason.


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Simi's house and the sitar

On saturday, because we stayed in Delhi this weekend, we went to the house of one of the Mobile Creches teachers, Simi. Getting to Simi's house took a while, and when we finally got to the neighborhood, we realized we had no idea where to go. The neighborhood we were in was like a giant maze. We walked through the cramped streets (if you could call them that, they were as wide as a sidewalk), past cows and goats, trying to find house 208, which was tough because the house numbers weren't nesecarily in order. Pretty soon, we had a group of 15-20 children and adults following us just trying to help us find our way. We were like celebrities, and it was wierd. All the same, we were thankful, and eventually found the house, which consisted of two small rooms (one of them open air because it didn't have a wall) on the third floor. The apartment was only a small part of the giant mass of apartments and apartment buildings that all kind of merge together into big globs of housing.

Once inside, we sat down and drank tea, but it was difficult to talk because Simi speaks little to no english, and we the same with Hindi. Eventually, Simi's brother in law put on dance music, and we all kind of danced goofily in this small room, eventually joined by Simi's two small kids. If that sounds awkward, its because it was. Still a fun experience though.

Today, I finally bought a Sitar, and it is amazing. I went to a store called Rhiki Rham, which is famous for its sitars. The owner and luthier is named Sanjay, and he is the guy who makes Sitars for Ravi Shankar, Paul Mcartney, and various other famous musicians. I got the cheapest one in the store, which was about 300 bucks (which would cost 1500 in the states). The instrument is beautiful, decorated with carved wood and camel bone inlays. I'll be sad to have to ship it home when I leave India for Israel; hopefully it will make it in one piece.

tryna eat some beef

I know that my blog posts have been sparser than expected, and I am realizing now that the truly strange and different things about India have become somewhat normal to me. That being said, I figure I'll try and talk about those things in this post.

I've already talked about how nuts driving is, but it gets even crazier. It is not uncommon to see whole families riding on a single motorcycle, no exaggerations. Imagine the father driving with a small child on his lap, behind him a mother sitting side saddle holding a baby and possibly a small animal, and then packages strapped on in various places. It's insane to think that that is a normal and legit mode of travel while people back home are ridiculous for driving with a baby in their lap.

It is also common at red lights for impoverished children to come out to the streets and try and sell you things. You keep saying no, but they stay, plead, touch you, cry, and whatever else they can think of until you relent or the light turns green.

Temples are also a place where people try milk the tourists as best they can through pity. We went to the biggest Mosque in Delhi the other day (shown below), and walking up the steps to get there was pretty incredible in the worst way. Lining the steps on both sides were people with every malady or deformity or condition you could think of. Its truly heartbreaking sometimes, but there’s not much you can do at times like those.

In Hauz Khas there is no better illustration of the socioeconomic gap than the gym complex I've been going to as often as I can. Honestly, I can say that it is one of the nicest and cleanest places I've been in delhi. It is set up like anh country club in America. For those who saw pictures of the gym in Costa Rica, its the complete opposite. I see it filled with the richest of the rich, and then on my walk home, I pass those in utter poverty with their makeshift (but permanent) tents on the side of the roads and highways.

As far as work goes, things are normal. One of my favorite kids is named Deepak. He's in the older group, but he’s one of the youngest, about seven years old. He often gets left out of things because the older kids already speak some english and know the ABCs. They also like to pick on him because they are older, bigger, and because no one stops them. Because of all this, he’s usually pretty glum, and I try and make it my mission to get him to smile as much as I can. A few days ago, the older kids were on a field trip but Deepak was still at Mobile Creches for some unknown reason. Becky was working with him all day on the ABCs, and when he finally was able to recite and write them all down, he went nuts. It was the happiest I've ever seen him, and for the next seven times in row he recited them to me, that little kid was nothing but joy. As lame as that might sound, that, for me, is the best part of this whole experience. We're not saving the world, but if we can make a kid smile, it almost feels like it.

And in other HUGE news, I have found Uncle Larry’s long lost Indian twin brother. He works right here at the CCS house and his name is Geresh. The photo below is of me and some of the CCS staff, see if you can spot him.

The rest of the photos are, in order: Hauz Khas apartment complex (the whole thing looks like that), playing drums in Pushkar, monkey in Pushkar, girls and I at largest Mosque in Delhi, girls and I on River Ganges in Rishikesh, and little Deepak smiling on Republic day celebrations last friday.