Kibbutz Lotan Wrap Up & Fish for Dinner, yikes!

Oh, the civilized Middle Eastern world. How nice and HOT it is, well I guess it’s cooler then the desert, but the humidity is about 75% +.

Friday, I made the 8-hour journey from Kibbutz Lotan to Qiryat Shemona in the north, only a few miles from the Lebanon border. Along the way, actually about 10 minutes into my trip, I was fortunate enough to once again experience the weak stomachs of the Israeli people when it comes to riding in a bus. I had just settled into my seat when a passenger came to the front looking of the bus looking for plastic bags. I immediately knew, from my past experience, that someone had already or was about the blow.

I was sitting against the window on the right side of the bus and I turned around to take a look down the crack between the window and the seats. Instantly the disaster zone was spotted. In the second row of seats behind me, a gentleman was hunkered over, leaning on the glass and spewing all over the sidewall and floor. The window was covered with vomit and it was barreling down the windowsill towards my right elbow. There were no towels near by, no napkins, nothing to set up a barrier between me and flood of liquid bile. Then, at the list minute I saw a crumbled up napkin on the floor under my seat. It was probably someone’s snot-rag, but at this point I had to put that thought behind me and try to pick it up with the least amount of contact. At the last second I stuck the old dirty snot-rag to the windowsill and managed to stop the bile in it’s path, or at least divert it down the wall of the seat behind me.

For the next hour I couldn’t help to continue checking on the strength of my barrier until the rising, hot, sun, dried and crusted the bile to the windowsill.

About 30 minutes later, round two for this poor guy started as we wound our way up the desert canyon. Fortunately, this time he had plenty of plastic bags to contain his fluids, it was the sound affects that were hard to stomach.

Daniel picked me up from the bus station and we were off to his aunts’ house, just in time for Shabbat Dinner. After waiting for the men and boys to return from the synagogue, we took our seats around the table. They began with a few prayer songs, blessed the wine, we washed our hands, and then served the bread. Dinner was then served.

I need to take a minute to go off on a little tangent here to explain the next part of this story. When I travel, I always try very hard to show the most respect. One the hardest parts when it comes to showing respect can be around the dinner table. I always forced down anything that is put in front of me. Whether I know what it is or not, I do my best to eat it. It simply becomes a mind of matter situation, often times I don’t even chew and I just swallow it whole, trying to control the amount of flavor that is released. With that said, on the menu for Shabbat Dinner Friday night, Fish. Most of you probably are thinking, what’s so bad about fish? Well, I don’t eat a whole lot of seafood. I have an incredibly sensitive gag reflex when it comes to the smell and taste of anything slightly fishy. I when I say slightly, I mean that I will find the fishy flavor even in the freshest fish that is prepared by a five start restaurant.

Back to the story. So Daniel looks at me and says, with a smirk on his face, “you like fish, is that ok?” He know’s I don’t. I immediately become anxious about how this is going to taste, what kind of fish is it, and I’m hoping I don’t throw up like the guy on the bus. Fortunately the portion was small and a managed, with the help of some spicy peppers, chickpeas, and eggplant all mixed together, to respectfully polish off the plate. I even had seconds, but no fish.

I think when I return home I need to practice eating more fish so I am prepared for the future. I just don’t know how this is going to work because I really haven’t enjoyed it for the past 25 years.

We are going to spend a few days in the north babysitting Daniels two younger siblings while the parents are vacationing in Ireland. I’m sure there will be a few more meals of unknown dishes at his aunts’ house. I haven’t let down my mental preparation yet. I’ll just keep eating everything she places in front of me. This could become very interesting.

Let me wrap up the Kibbutz Lotan experience as well.

Beyond the regular every day life of milking goats, labeling yogurt bottles, mixing yogurt flavors, and cleaning up dead goats, life was pretty normal. I took a one night trip down to Eilat with Dion and Johikim. I could have gone without the trip, but whatever, it was an experience to add to the record book. I quickly realized Dion is not the kind of person to travel with and Johikim is an inexperienced and somewhat naïve 19 year old proper kid from England who questions EVERYTHING. I jumped on the first bus Saturday morning while Dion and Johikim slept in. I was ready to return to the kibbutz.

On Monday of last week, Dion was asked to leave the kibbutz. Dion had a very poor attitude, not many people liked him, and he always seemed very angry. After our trip to Eilat I learned a little bit more about Dion which explains his behavior. He is a street hooligan from Holland that grew up in a very rough atmosphere. He’s had to fight, physically and mentally, to survive and he was sent to live on a kibbutz by his parents to try and shape up. He has a very tough personality and a lot of people didn’t understand him because they didn’t take the time to get to know him. Granted this took a few whiskey cola’s to get him to open up. After showing up late again to work, and after a few confrontations in the kitchen with his coworkers, he was asked to leave by Tuesday afternoon.

I had decided on Tuesday afternoon that I was also on my way out. I phoned the coordinator and it went very smoothly. They are used to volunteers coming and going all the time so it was no surprise to anyone. The news spread like wildfire. I had only mentioned I was leaving the kibbutz to Penny the coordinator, and within 2 hours people were approaching me, “oh man, you’re leaving already? When? Why?”

Everyone was very understanding and very sincere with their well wishes and safe travels home.

I received a few emails from friends after they found out I was coming home so soon and they were apologetic and concerned my trip fell short of my expectations. I do appreciate their concern, but I want to reassure everyone that this trip has been exactly what I needed and nothing less. I made the decision to come home because I am ready. Before I left I wasn’t able to give any an exact return date because I did not set any expectations. I was going with a completely open mind and open-ended trip.

In the 6 weeks I have been in Israel I have seen a majority of the country, I have met people from around the world, I have dealt with a variety of adverse situations, and I have had a great deal of time to self reflect. The trip has been a success in every aspect, well except financially, ha. My spirits are much higher and my priorities are clearer. I have a new sense of myself and I have begun to realize what it will take to accomplish the goals I have set.

For the next 2 weeks I am excited to spend more time with Daniel, which has been the best part of this trip. The support he is provider, the conversations we have had, and bond we have strengthen have been the major highlights of my trip. I have a few small day trips planned to make sure I see the Dead Sea, Masada, Haifa, and anything else along the way. Then, I will be ready to make the trip back home, and very excited too.

So, please do not think the trip was a bust. It has been another amazing experience that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I wish more then anything I could have shared this experience traveling with someone else, but in some cases I probably learned more having traveled solo. Either way, this will not be my last trip abroad. My trips in the future will be more leisure based because my priorities have shifted and it’s time to start a “career path”, but traveling will always provide meaningful experiences in my life.