Ten Years Ago

There were anxious whispers in the hallway, rumors, confusion. But we started school as if it were a normal day. Normal. That's almost laughable now. I was in the band room, about halfway through first period freshman Concert Band, when there was an announcement over the loudspeaker that not only two planes it World Trade Center towers in New York, but a third had crashed into the Pentagon. "It sounds like it's pretty bad. Let's end class here today," my band director said. So we packed up our instruments early, as every TV in the school was turned on to broadcast the most shocking live images I had ever seen. My brother was a senior advisor for band, and as we parted, I felt alone and scared.

My second period class was Treble Ensemble, the freshman girl's chorus. I remember walking down the short hallway of the fine arts wing to the next classroom over; I walked like it was a dream, or a nightmare rather. First period hadn't ended yet, technically, so the hall was practically silent. Everything had a hazy quality about it, but maybe that was the confusion in my head, or my eyes misting over. As I entered the dark room, I stood for a moment looking up at the TV in the choir room, practically alone. My choir director joined me, as my fellow students and friends started filing, almost silent in their shock, into the room. Nobody turned the lights on. Was that to better see the TV, or was it because everyone else was similarly in such a deep, dark place that a light would be piercing?

We took our seats and watched in horror as the south, and half another later, the north tower fell. I don't remember crying, but I must have been, or even nearly hysterical, because my choir director somehow figured out what class my brother was in, and got the message to him that I was especially upset.

I frantically used school phone (I didn't have a cell yet) to call my parents, but nobody answered. I was panicking because my dad was supposed to fly that day, and I knew his flight wasn't until the afternoon, but who knows? But then I saw my brother in the hallway between classes, and he told me everyone was all right. He had gotten a copy of my class schedule so he could try to check up on me throughout the day.

The rest of the day was spent in front of the TVs, glued, mesmerized in the horror, or trying to learn something, though concentration was futile.

I got home and was relieved to curl up in our family room with my parents. I was supposed to have ballet class that night. I figured it would be canceled. But class was on, and I didn't want to be counted absent. I didn't want to go, but I pulled myself away from the warmth and comfort. What I found at my studio, took me by surprise. The class was not only full, but even more students than usual had shown up to take class. It was amazing. We had all come for the same reason....to take our minds off, even for a moment, those terrible images, and to live in the world of pliés and arabesque. For an hour and a half, we danced. It was beautiful.

*~~*

Here I am, ten years later, at age 24, still remembering these images as if they were yesterday. I had a long conversation with a friend yesterday about the importance, or lack thereof, of remembering. When are we genuinely honoring those who lost or sacrificed their lives, and when does it become a tacky show of patriotism (or worse, vengeance, hate, and justification for war?)? When should we remember, and when should we move on? And what the heck is up with the idea that if we don't come out with our flags waving and our "Never Forget" T-shirts, that the terrorists have won?

I recognized that people are affected differently by September 11th. Some people, like myself, are sensitive to the images, and remember the day with disturbing vividness, and feel it is right to take the day to mourn and remember. Others think it is best to move on. Regardless, we must move forward to create a better world.

There were a couple sudden and awful terror attacks when I was in Israel. We were told that we do not know what was going to happen, but we must keep living our lives, and keep dancing. Israelis are true masters of resilience. (You can read my post on these attacks, and how I thought of 9/11, here: http://artinmotionblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/no-ones-laughing-at-g-d.html)

I know that for me, there was something beautiful and comforting of being in my music classes when the towers went down. Music, is something that has to power to make us aware of our humanity. Being with those people, my closest friends, provided the best comfort I could find. In dance class that night, we clung to our art like it was holy.

"We must admit there will be music despite everything."-poet Jack Gilbert

?למה ככה Lama Kacah?

Hello again, from the other side of the pond! I haven't written in a while, mostly because it seems whatever to say lately pales to my adventures abroad.  But here I am, fresh to the States again, and I find myself a little lost.  More driven and determined than ever, but unsure of what I'm driving at.  I have more choices than ever, and while that's a good thing, it's a bit overwhelming.

Auditions has been my focus over the past few weeks, but the economy is struggling, and so are us dancers. The few companies that are looking to hire new dancers are often not hiring women at this time, and if they are, are barely paying.  It's really too bad, because I feel like if the economic situation were not so desperate, I would have a dance job by now.  When I graduated from school in 2009, my classmates and I made jokes like "Good luck in the worst economy the country has seen in decades!" and "Way to add to the unemployment rate!"  But it's not exactly a joke anymore....However, I feel SO incredibly lucky that AthletiCo, the physical therapy clinic at which I worked prior to moving to Israel, has welcomed me back with open arms.  It's an excellent job, and my knowledge I gained from working there was really what kept me relatively injury-free in Israel.  I'm also so lucky I got my dancing feet in the door of my former high school, and now have the good fortune to be the go-to-dance-sub, have already been asked to teach master classes, and will hopefully continue doing after school programming.  Last year, I really found myself loving teaching, and I'm really excited to continue working with high school students.  They are enthusiastic about dancing, receptive to learning, and overall really great kids.

With these two main part-time gigs though--working in the field of physical therapy, and teaching--I've been confronted with my long-time questions of going back to school.  I've been interested in PT for a long time, but all PT programs are now Doctorate programs now (MPTs have become obsolete).  Without many (or any) prerequisites done, and a full 3 years of school, becoming a full-fledged physical therapist is a tough row to hoe.  I am now starting to consider PT Assistant (PTA) programs, which are 2 years and with fewer prereqs.  At least at AthletiCo, PTAs do pretty much everything that PTs do except they can't make initial evaluations.  I know I also would like to get a teaching certificate at some point (probably in English, because so few programs certify in Dance), so that I could actually be hired at a school rather than just sub and do after school programming.  ::sigh::  I wish I could *snap* my fingers and have these degrees.  (But alas, even Hermione didn't have a spell for instant graduation.) I think that I have figured out my dream post-dancing job.  I would love to work at a high school acting as a liason between the fine arts (and dance teacher) and athletic department (and athletic trainer) as a dance teacher/PTA.  Sounds like a dream.  What school will have the money to hire me?  I'll have to show them that my skills are valuable, versatile, and completely worth it. :-)

Anyway, that's in the future.  I'm in the now.  Or rather, should be.  My heart is still in Israel, and I miss Kibbutz Gaaton more than ever.  I miss the studio, with its tall, wide windows that looked out to the Galilee.  The birds that would fly inside and temporarily distract us all from our pliés and tendus.  The goofy pianist who transitioned from Mendelsohn to Led Zeppelin to Disney.  The garden outside my doorstep, where lemongrass, lemon verbena, and sage grew.  Asking my neighbor if I could borrow a cup of sugar (yes, literally).  Or a fruit squeezer.  Or a spatula.  Sipping a frozen coffee at the café, while shyly flirting with the guy who worked there (for whom I harbored a secret...or perhaps not-so-secret...crush), our words getting lost in translation.  Listening to Mika's inspirational speeches about dancing and life.  Buying salted cashews, fresh mint, and dripping strawberries from a market.  Floating in the Mediterranean.

All of that is behind me now, but I conjure the images in moments when I know I'm losing touch.  I came out of the program so confident, so strong (physically and mentally), a quicker and more focused learner, and with a renewed passion for dance.  My title of this entry says "Lama kacha?" which translates to "Why like this?"  We made fun of this common Israeli phrase, because it sounds silly, translated, but it's used to contemplate an unfortunate situation.  So I'm finding myself asking, now that I've returned, why is it like this, and not like this?  Because times are still tough.  Because, as I said in another post, I have never had anything just handed to me.  Because I knew I would have to fight.

And in the end...

I am writing this entry from Italy, as I decided to meet up with a friend and travel there for a bit after my Israel adventure.  It's been crazy busy, full of amazing things to see....and I am currently sans computer (UGH...I'll save that for another entry)....so it's been hard to write.  But I must some up the feelings of goodbyes and partings that were so surreal and sad during my last couple days on Kibbutz Gaaton.

The show was excellent, and slightly insane  It was almost two hours of high-energy physicality, and it was exhausting.  I can't imagine what it was like to perform in even more pieces...because as I wrote before, I wasn't dancing quite as much as I wished (I never got to perform the "mattresses" which was too bad.  But I learned a lot from working on it up until the very end.  I know that you can fight for something that you really want, and maybe things still won't change.  Maybe the casting is set, or maybe the mildly injured people keep on dancing so that the understudies never have a chance.  But it meant something to understand that the meaning behind a dance lies not in whom it's performed for, but in the performer them self.  A friend told me that "Every run is a performance, and every performance is just another run."  That's such a great way to think about it, and it helped me to make the most of all of my pieces.)  I truly enjoyed every moment of performing....Sharon Vaisvaser's piece, which I admit I had grown really tired of, I was able to find meaning in, in the moment.  Dori's floor work piece, which was the most fun, where I found smiling was easy.  All of the KCDC rep, from the "Send in the Clowns" gestural and internal, to the very physical sections from Naked City and others.  I really truly enjoyed dancing the section from Matz Ek's Gizelle, in which we were able to use some acting skills and character/story development.


The goodbyes to my friends were incredibly difficult and emotional.  I grew very close with a good few of my classmates.  We danced, lived, ate, laughed and cried together, for a whole five months, and now it feels truly surreal to be gone.  I wrote this last week, right after parting...


"I just left the kibbutz..Left the green trees of so many varieties, the incredibly bright stars, the view of Yechiam Fortress...Mika's inspirational speeches, dancing so hard I can't breathe, hearing friends laugh over Skype, giggling at the most random moments, tea nights, going to the cafe--half to enjoy delicious coffee--half to flirt with [one of the guys who works there], journeying to Tel Aviv to be inspired by Batsheva, and the waves, and the white sand...even grocery-shopping adventures to Nahariya.  All of this I will miss, and though I left it all behind me in a physical sense, it will always be here, a part of me now."


If any of you read this entry, thank you for making my experience complete.  I could not have gotten through MASA without you, and if I could have, it would not have been worth it.  To my teachers, you are amazing, inspiring, and taught me to know dance's place in my heart and in the world again.  Shalom, until the next adventure....L'hitraot!

"This is why we fight.."

This is our last weekend, here at the kibbutz. My feelings are so bittersweet. I had a rough week of dancing (explanation below), so in some ways I am SO ready for a little break. In other ways, I am so sad to leave this amazing, beautiful place. I have also just begun to grow closer with certain friends here, and am so frustrated and sad to leave when friendships are just blooming.

We decided to dress silly for our last modern class...

So, this post has a bit of a different vibe to it, but this past week was really hard for me. I'll explain why...I've realized some things about dance; if ever I said things were hard here, it was not the hardest. This past week I woke up to many things, but also faced even harder challenges than ever before. My emotions go up and down like I'm a teenager again, and one minute I feel confident, and the next, my ego truly lacking.

I won't go into too many specifics, but mostly all these thoughts and feelings are coming from casting choices....what I'm dancing in or not dancing in for the final show, which is in just a few days. I hate drama that comes out of these experiences...You never know what directors are looking for when they cast various parts. I am currently understudying or in the "second cast" for a couple parts that I'd really like to be able to perform more. Specifically, I am referring to the what we call the "mattress" section of the piece called "Screen Saver." I'm pretty sure I wrote about learning this piece before. It is the most physically challenging piece of choreography I have ever learned, and it's incredibly exhausting to do. Ever since we learned it though, I've had this strong desire to conquer this, and to be able to not just get all the way through it, stamina-wise, but to perform it. I had been rehearsing with a couple fellow dancers as a kind of second cast, but I still don't know if I'll get put in the final show or not (though I know I shouldn't fixate on it so much, it really shouldn't matter if I perform or not...). It's frustrating, still, because I've worked so hard and have given this truly all I have. An incredibly wonderful classmate let me run the piece in her place during tech the other day. Mika has told me how far I've come with it, and that I should be proud at how it has transformed in just a few weeks. Still, the second half is a bit weak, and I let my exhaustion show through, which I can understand to be true.

We recently had final conferences about our progress, and so much of what I heard was positive, encouraging about my growth and where I'm going from here, and positive about what I high note I'm finishing on. I was so happy to hear all this, but the casting seems incongruous. Some of my best friends here and I have shared mutual feelings, and we sometimes wonder why we chose the arts as our field, when it lends itself to so much emotional and personal exhaustion. Things like casting should not be personal, but of course we cannot take every decision as a compliment or blow. Everyone says to think of large experiences like these five months as a journey of opportunities, learning, and successes, and not think of the final performance as a culmination of everything we've learned, but just a small piece of it. Abra, my friend from home who did the last program told me that casting really doesn't matter so much as that I should give my parts that I am performing everything that I have; even if it's less stage time than I wish, I can make every moment count. (For example, I have this solo I love in the piece of Matz Ek Gizelle we are doing, where I get to share a long hug with Albert, then wake up to what a womanizer he is, push him away and grand-battement kick him. It's split-cast, but I'll be doing this part in two shows--It's just a really fun applause-moment, and I savor it every time.) I am trying to think this way, but, it's hard. I really wanted to able to conquer the "mattresses," and by that I mean, getting all the way through the piece without collapsing because of lack of cardio stamina, or my quads giving out. Because of all the work I have put into rehearsing, inside and outside of scheduled rehearsal time, I have been able to accomplish this. It's been really amazing, when I think about it, to consider my journey of progress, and realize how I can actually DO this thing now, when I couldn't get through it before. But somehow, that's not enough for me. I feel like I haven't truly conquered it unless my director will put me on stage....So this battle is what I've been fighting all week. It's tough, and it's taken a toll on me. In some ways I wish I could let it all go, and just enjoy these last few days. In other ways, I know that I am a fighter, and that nothing has ever just been handed to me. This battle is something I was meant to fight, whatever the outcome may be. (My theme song lately has been The Decemberists' "This is Why We Fight." SUCH a powerful, amazing song!

Today at the beach

On a happier note, I have been able to take my mind off this and my aching muscles by hanging out with great friends this weekend. Last night I had a BBQ/picnic with some friends, then watched Harry Potter 6, and continued to laugh the night away until we were giddy. Tonight I revisited the classic Center Stage with a friend. I also went into Nahariya and spent time lounging at the beach, closing my eyes and listening to the waves. I also swam for a few minutes, though the waves were choppy and the shore rocky. Nature, relaxation time, memorable experiences with friends...it reminded me to take a step back from this show that it is not the end-all-be-all of my time here, and that what I've learned goes beyond the stage.

To read, write, dance or sleep, that is the question...

SO much going on here at the Dance Village on Kibbutz Ga'aton!

My parents came to visit last week, which was awesome.  The couple times I've seen people from home it feels almost strange (great, of course, but strange) to see them here...like they've just rocked my little MASA-dance world, and it's a bit mind-boggling.  Having my parents here though, didn't seem strange at all, even though I expected it to be a clash of worlds.  It was almost as i had been imagining their presence all along, or perhaps, with regular Skyping, it was as if they actually were here.

They spent some time in Jerusalem, and then came to visit me at the Kibbutz.  The class they observed was a good one to see, because there was lots of action--It was a Rep rehearsal, putting together a section from "360." They seemed to enjoy wandering around the kibbutz and enjoying the beautiful, flowering, sweet-smelling scenery (Can scenery be sweet-smelling?).  And I think found the cafe as wonderful and delicious as I do. :-)

We went to Tzfat that afternoon, which is probably my favorite city in Northern Israel.  It is home of Jewish mysticism, the center for jewelers and artists, and the location of beautiful old synagogues.  The covered, cobblestone ally where the artists sell their work reminds me a bit of the Old City of Jerusalem, and I absolutely love the atmosphere and the picturesque view of the Galilee.  From the first time I was here on Birthright, I fell in love with this city!  I’m so happy I got to share it with my parents.

Ally in Tzfat

My dad’s birthday was actually that day, and we celebrated that night at Café Café in Nahariya.  What a great place.  Delicious as always.

View from cafe in Tzfat

We then drove to Tel Aviv along the coast, getting a bit lost while trying to find our way around the handle of Haifa.  But everything eventually worked out, and we arrived in Tel Aviv in time to walk through Shuk HaCarmel (the main market in central TLV) to end up at Nachlat Binyamin (one of the main streets that hosts an arts/crafts/jewelry fair, created by local artists, every Tuesday and Friday).  Wandering through the market, grabbing a bite to eat, and browsing the art fair is one of my absolute favorite things to do in the world, and I'm glad my parents experienced it as well.

Our hotel, the Hilton, had a gorgeous view of the Mediterranean.  My dad and I took a walk along the coast, north to the Port after dinner; it was fun to see everyone out and about, even on a Friday night here (which is Shabbat, but Tel Aviv is a pretty secular city, so tons of cafes/restaurants/bars are still open).

View from the Hilton Hotel

The next day, I took them to my favorite places around the city....my favorite cafe (called Zorik, on Yehuda Maccabi a little east of Ibn Gvirol), which has a fun, lively atmosphere, comfy chairs/couches, friendly service, and taim maod (delicious) coffee, lemonade, and all kinds of food.  We traveled south to Rabin Square, which I thought my dad especially would like to see.  I think my mom was a little underwhelmed with the memorial.  I never really thought about it, that he deserved more than a corner dedicated to him, which a plaque, some stones, a flag....I don't know though, for some reason it seems fitting to me.  There is a wall with preserved graffiti and newspaper clippings...pictures of Rabin and Arafat shaking hands, with Clinton in the middle.  The feel of the whole corner is informal, ordinary, or even run-down in a sense.  But it seems to fit the fact that he was fighting for the common man, the ordinary Tel Avivan, to live in peace, and it also fits the irony of those dreams having been shot down, right there in that spot.

We also (of course) went to Neve Tzedek, the beautiful, artsy area in south Tel Aviv where Suzanne Dellal is located.  I showed them the studios where I take Gaga class, where Batsheva rehearses, and the shops...I love this area so much.  The residential area is so picturesque, and the theatre area is just beautiful.  Most of the shops were closed, because it was Saturday, but the theatre area was still bustling, and the famous ice cream shop, of course, was open for business.  Well, that about sums up their visit!

I absolutely need to write about the book series I just finished which I became...well...pretty much obsessed with over the last 6 weeks or so. It's the trilogy, the Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins.  I brought the first book with me, and started it around the time that we went on our trip to the south.  Literally, I could not put it down.  I love reading, but seriously, I have not been so fully captivated and all-consumed by a book, probably since I became enthralled with the world of Harry Potter (circa age 14).  Anyway, I was so drawn to this book that we were hiking Masada and I was honestly thinking..."I wish I was reading right now..."  I ordered the second and third books online, and literally, when I finished the second, immediately picked up the third.  I don't know how to categorize them; think 1984 meets Enders' Game meets Harry Potter.  The premise of the books is: in a dystopian future-North America, the government imposes it's power over the people by creating an annual lottery, where the "winners"--all children between 12 and 18--must participate in a fight to the death.


It's technically Young Adult series, but honestly, they are so dark and disturbing at parts, I don't agree with that categorization. But they really resonated with me in the present time and place.  I was reading the second one around the time of Holocaust Remembrance Day and Memorial Day; the books seemed to speak directly about my life here and now, about survival, retaining our humanity, the will to sacrifice, embracing love, and choosing life.  I finished the 3rd book just last week.  My roommate had gone to bed, and I was starting to get choked up, so I finished the final pages outside my apartment door.  Then I took a 1am walk around the kibbutz because I was crying my eyes out and couldn't shake it.  I won't give anything away, but it's clearly a very bittersweet ending.  Very fitting though, in my opinion. Anyway....very powerful...read it!


Much of this entry was written in a dark theatre, as we are in tech for Nizotzot ("sparkles"), which is our choreographer's showcase.  After many technical difficulties involving making a projection of screen captures of Skype conversations, and some complex editing of music, I think I've thoroughly been a pain to the people running my lights and sound....There were still a few lights/sound/movement cues that weren't in synch today, but I hope it goes better during our dress tomorrow.  We had our last studio rehearsal last night, though, and my dancers made me very happy!  Dance-wise, I think it's really come together, and I hope that the final product will prove that as well.

In general, we are just dancing harder than ever.  At the beginning of last week, we started working intensely on a section from "Screensaver."  I kid you not, it's the most physically challenging piece of choreography I have ever encountered.  In this section, we are dancing (rather, jumping, pas de bourreeing, arching, flinging, and falling) on mattresses.  The mattresses absorb all of your weight, so you sink down as you land, and finding the momentum to jump again is the most difficult thing, muscularly and cardiovascularly.  The piece is essentially about war--We were given the image of being shot to hold in our mind, as we struggle to keep going.  "People keep pushing you down, but you want to live," Mika told us.  The emotion of the piece, combined with my will power to want to prove that I can do it, that I can beat my body's limitations, is what keeps me going.  Still, it's so incredibly hard, and I haven't been able to get all the way through yet.  After the last run-through of the day, I went up to Mika to explain my frustrations--I want to do it so badly (and for me, being so physically strong, it's weird to find myself in a situation where I really can't do something), but no matter how much I tell myself to keep going, my body doesn't obey.  It kills the quads the most.  And about 3/4 of the way through, I get to the point where my muscles literally stop firing.  Of course, I ended up tearing up as I explained how frustrated I am, but I was comforted by the fact that it's difficult for everyone, even all the company members who have done this part before.  It will get easier, I was told, and I hope it's true.  I really want to be able to do this part, if only just to accomplish it for myself.

So after the Nizotzot show in a few days, this is what I'll be faced with...sore quads and a stiff back. But I'm ready...bring it on. :-)



So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void. -From You've Got Mail

Holidays in Israel, Gaga and fun in Tel Aviv

My time to write is suddenly diminishing, it seems, amidst an increase of rehearsals, holidays, and trips...I'll write first about the holidays.  About a week ago, following on the heels of Holocaust Remembrance Day by a week, was Memorial Day in Israel.  The very next day is Independence Day.  I wasn't sure how this would play out...I understood that the mourning for the fallen soldiers turns to joy and celebration, but to me it seemed strange to have them so close together.  But being here, living through it, made me understand.

The evening before Yom Hazikaron, Memorial Day, there was a ceremony on the kibbutz to remember and honor the soldiers from Kibbutz Ga'aton that have been killed in action.  It was a beautiful, but also emotional ceremony, as the images of the four soldiers' lives were captured in photo montages.  I danced in a little piece we were asked to put together.  It wasn't much, but the kibbutz members thanked us and seemed very grateful for our contribution.

The next day, on Memorial Day itself, there is a siren at 11am for 2 minutes.  We had class that day and were in the middle of ballet class.  My teacher wanted us all to be able to observe the siren, so we stopped after adagio, collected ourselves, and many of us went outside.  This siren is twice as long as the one for the Holocaust Remembrance Day, and standing there for the full two minutes felt simultaneously strange but right.  Anyway, the siren was nice to observe, but I didn't realize how much it jostled my thoughts until we reentered the studio and it was suddenly time for pirouettes.  I had no balance anymore.  I couldn't turn.  And I barely knew what the combination was.  I think it was during petite allegro that I actually left the studio....Since the siren, I really wasn't "there" anymore.  I took a few minutes for myself on a bench outside before returning for the rest of our classes that day, finally feeling somewhat collected again.

I don't know why most of us don't observe Memorial Day this sincerely in the US.  I guess it really shouldn't be a day for BBQs...It's really a day that we should remember, appreciate, and honor those who have fought and died for their country's right to exist...(regardless of political affiliation!)  Especially here in Israel, sovereignty is something that many people still question, and there are rockets and terror attacks to prove it; people here are still fighting and still dying.  The memories are fresh, and I see and understand that level of observance here.

Later that night, there was to be a ceremony/celebration to ring in Independence Day.  This is what I was wary about, because I wasn't sure what to expect, and I couldn't believe that casting off the mourning attitude and changing so rapidly to celebrating would be....respectful.  Well, I was proved wrong, because the ceremony was amazing and explained...everything.  Bonfires burned underneath structures that seemed to spell out words and shapes.  After some speeches, the ends of the metal words were lit afire by torchbearers, and the shapes burned and blazed...a star of David, a menorah, and Hebrew celebratory phrases...also a plea for Gilad Shalit to return home (kidnapped and held by Hamas for 5 years), a wish on which it seems nearly all Israelis are united.  It was truly moving.  Later in the ceremony, candles were lit by pairs of people, each couple representing a different group of kibbutz member (the older generation, the new soldiers entering the army, different groups of workers, and of course....two MASA dancers representing KCDC and the Dance Village!!).  We cheered so loudly, and the mood began to turn to celebration.  At the end, we sang Hatikva (the national anthem), and I felt proud to be one of the dancers who knew the song...so many thoughts and emotions at this moment!  And so we continued the night with much celebrating...The next day was a full day off of class, and we were invited by Roni, our program administrative director, to her beautiful house for a delicious BBQ.  I won't be home for the 4th of July, so this totally fulfilled my yearly quota for a fantastic Independence Day. :-)

View of the Mediterranean from one of the Batsheva studios

So...fast forwarding again to this past weekend, which I spent in Tel Aviv...I ventured out of the Galilee region for the first time in many weeks, for an almost vacation-like, much-needed break.  I took two back-to-back Gaga classes, which was wonderful.  The first class was a Gaga-People class I took with my friend Eldar, which was a great warmup to Gaga-Dancers, which directly followed.  In the first class, the teacher used a considerable about of Hebrew--most was translated into English, but I was really excited because often I could figure out what he was talking about even before the translation--I know body parts, directions, and certain adjectives.  So that was fun.  This class was a great way for my spine to start to feel mobile, my body awake and alive, and to remember how wonderful it is to be moving and grooving, in Tel Aviv of all places.  The Gaga-Dancers class didn't differ from a People-class as much as I would have expected...it just used some ballet terminology, and was a bit more physically rigorous by the end.  Regardless, both felt excellent.

Corner of Nachlat Binyamin, Shuk Hacarmel, and Allenby, central Tel Aviv

The remainder of the weekend was spent with good friends...Eldar who I met in Gaga class in 2008, my dear friend Abra from home who did the MASA program last fall and is now living in TA, a friend/very distant relative who I stayed with when I lived in TA three years ago, another good friend, fairly recently released from his Intelligence Officer duties who I briefly dated, when I lived in TA, and many fellow dancers who also ventured to the city.  Besides running around, being a little crazy trying to see everyone, I also made time for relaxing on the beach, reading at a cafes (one had live jazz), drinking a lot of delicious iced coffee, going out for sushi and thai food, and walking my favorite parts of the city (the shuk (market) and arts/crafts fair).  ::Sigh:: My favorite city!

I am so excited because my parents will be here in a WEEK!  And I will take them around Tel Aviv and show them all my favorite spots. :-)

Dancing in Memoriam

Yesterday was Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel, called Yom Hashoah.  We had a day off of classes, but I woke up in time for the siren that sounds at 10am.  Even though we were up late the previous night in tech for our performance until 11, I wanted to observe the siren properly (i.e. not in bed), since this would probably be my only time to experience something quite like this.


So I walked to the front gate, passing only a few people along the way (though the kibbutzniks that I did pass seemed to be outside their houses or places of work, perhaps also preparing for the siren).  The sound went off just as I was approaching the gate, and I stood for the remaining of the 60 seconds (that represents the 6 million) at the road junction.  It was so strange...I saw nobody, heard nothing but the siren expect for one truck that probably couldn't hear it go off.  After it ended, I heard the echoes of other sirens dying down, the sound slightly distorted, from other towns.  And then--silence--and chirping birds.  Next, I saw a few cars pass that probably had been stopped on the highway where I couldn't see.  And then the day proceeds...


It would have been a totally different experience if I had been in Jerusalem, or some place where traffic comes to a standstill and everyone comes out of their houses/cars and observes that minute.  I was a bit disappointed I couldn't have had this experience, but at the same time, it was special to observe in my own quite kibbutz-like way.  I also reflected, after the 60 seconds, that here in Israel, we always talk about the 6 millions.  I feel like it's crucial to remember that there were 5 million others....gypsies, homosexuals, dark-skinned, handicapped, etc. that were also killed, not for any reason at all, and killed by other humans....ugh...I can learn about it so many times and it never gets any easier.

Then, last night, we also had a performance at the kibbutz called Lochmei Hagetaot, which means "Ghetto Fighters' House."  It is a kibbutz that was founded by Jewish resistance fighters during the war, and every year, there is a large ceremony on Yom Hashoah (perhaps one of the biggest ceremonies, second to in Jerusalem at Yad Vashem).  We performed a section of Aide Memoire, KCDC's famous Holocaust memorial piece by Rami Be'er.  The experience ended up being truly moving for me, one of the most meaningful performances I've ever been a part of.

I admit I was possibly more nervous beforehand that I have ever been in my life, before a show.  There were so many crazy factors to this performance that made it quite...interesting...and the tech the night before a little terrifying.  The stage setup, mostly, is what made it so crazy.  In this piece, a train of walking dancers that we call the "snake" weaves around while highlighted dancers exit out of this snake to dance combinations.  The snake, for this show, was walking on elevated boards, that were at times a bit shaky.  The dance combinations happened off of the planks, on the main stage, which was actually just made out of stone or at times was vaguely gravel-like.  There were also art pieces dotting the stage, constructions of wood that cross liked a twisted cage or something.  We performed in gym shoes so as to not get hurt, and we also had to make numerous last-minute alterations due to the space.  To add on top of this, the lighting was a bit intense, with lots of colors and strobes that were pretty distracting to me.  I asked Mika if she could talk to the lighting people to tone it down, but she said she already did and the lighting cues were programmed to the music and apparently couldn't be changed...

Anyway, I went into the show feeling pretty nervous about how it would all go down (on Israeli national  television).  I also was feeling pretty emotional, in the spirit of the Holocaust--the stage backdrop constructions were all reminiscent of cages and fences--and the screens were displaying scenes of trains to the death camps.  What really hit me was the night before at tech, Mika told us when we run (and there is a lot of running in the piece), to "run like there is no tomorrow, like you are heading to the gas chambers."  I gave an involuntary shudder when she said that, and it really drew home the meaning of the piece for me.  In fact, Mika is generally full of inspirational quotes that I attempt to remember.  Right before going on, she said, "There are a lot of young people in the audience, they are the next generation that needs to remember what happened.  Everyone is speaking with their words, but we are speaking with our bodies....showing that we are here and we are here to stay."


I didn't even have to try to channel all this emotion into my dancing.  It was already there.


Many of us ran off stage feeling that we messed up, lost the counts, or were thrown off by other unexpected occurrences (a man walking on stage and reading a speech in the middle of our dance while our audio was turned down...).  Most of us felt like it was a "big balagan" (big mess)....But when we saw the video, we realized how together it actually was, and how, despite technical issues, we really were feeling each other in the spirit and in the movements.  I really feel honored to have been a part of something so special and important, in Israel.


Here is the video (sorry, poor resolution)...

Lochmei Haghetaot performance

"I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides."

~Elie Wiesel