Episode 00: "The Orchard" (+)

When I arrived at Kibbutz Samar, alone and nervous, this woman welcomed me into her home:

Eileen. Savior of my first night.

She lived next to my contact, Joe, whom I hadn't been able to reach. He was out for now, but until he got back, Eileen talked with me and even asked me to eat dinner with her family. Her hospitality is an epitome of how Samar made me feel in general. Over the course of January, I found friends in a lot of genuine, inviting people.

These were two of them.
Zahava and Joe Miracles.

Joe's last name is actually Nessim, but it's the equivalent of "miracles" in English, so I went with that version in my head. Soon after we met, we cleared up the silly misunderstanding over when he was expecting my call. He set me up with my cabin my first night, bought me a broom the next night, provided me with a space heater when I asked for it the next week, etc. He made sure I was living comfortably, which wasn't tough, because my cabin was pretty good digs.

Had that whole spot to myself.

The first day of work, Joe set me up with kitchen duty. I worked with the lovely bunch that was Sonya, Natalia, Barak, Bar, Soul, David, and probably more. With music playing on the radio and some hilarious, kind personalities around to make things interesting, I couldn't help but have fun. I worked there for another day, then worked primarily in the date tree orchard for the rest of my time in the kibbutz.

I had a few different jobs in the orchard during my time there. The most frequent one was thorning, which was hard to get used to. Joe showed me the ropes on smaller trees first: take your knife, slice your blade down along one side of the stem, then the other, all clear, take care of the outermost thorns of the tree before the innermost. After Joe, I worked with different partners every day, being lifted up in a big rig (the Maniscopes) to reach higher trees that needed cutting. I grew more confident stepping from stem to stem, balancing on tiny standing surfaces a few stories above the ground. I definitely wasn't a natural at cutting, but on the whole people were patient with me. Especially this guy:

Liel. My favorite cutting partner,
and an all around awesome person.

Our first time on the job together, his patience went a very, very long way. I couldn't get the hang of cutting at all, but he stuck it out with me until I picked up on his advice. We actually managed to have a pretty significant talk that day, too--one in which he told me a friend of his had died in the recent Lebanon war. For all of Liel's goofy, smiley dialogues, that's the one that sticks out most to me. He asked me if there are causes worth dying for, and after hearing about his friend, I understood the sensitivity behind his question.

I had a few other jobs around the orchard, as well. One of them was collecting, which meant walking through the orchard rows and piling date tree debris for shredding. I was especially grateful for the days when I had that job. If we started early enough, there was a quiet in the orchard and a ray of morning light filtered through the date tree leaves. I had a little bit of time to simply think, or pray.

Another job was irrigation, which this brother taught me:

Oti. (Like "O.T.," not "Otie.")
Probably the funniest person I met at Samar.
This man is nothing but jokes.

Irrigation was pretty much fixing dripping faucets and getting sprayed in the face with sewage water, and Oti got me acquainted with that business while cracking me up with his nonstop sense of humor. We became friends pretty quickly. In the latter half of my time in Samar, he asked that I help him with a project nearby the orchard that involved the "white house."

The house was where breakfast was cooked for the work crew every morning. Here's a video with it:

The white house and the work crew.
And the peacock.

At the beginning of my time in Samar, the interior of the house and the surrounding area were a sloppy mess, not entirely accessible or inviting. A lot of the time people would eat their breakfast outside the house, despite the furious winter cold coating the air. Oti had his mind set on revitalizing the white house, organizing the furniture inside, creating close-able windows, and painting the outside.

The final product common room.

Not really the "white house" anymore.

If you can't make out what's written above the doorway, it's because it's "welcome" in Korean. Six South Korean students showed up shortly after I did, and worked alongside me for jobs like irrigation, collection, and painting the house. The bond I formed with them was unexpected, but they were so incredibly kind--I guess I couldn't help being friends with such wonderful people.

The six of them--three guys, three gals--had been sent by their universities to study agriculture at Kibbutz Samar. Only two of them were proficient in English, creating an automatic language barrier that took its social toll on them. So they largely hung out together, but for some reason or other, I ended up chilling with them a lot, too. I was closest with Woojin ("Oo-chin"), who spoke the most English, and Sera ("Say-rah"), who was always striving to learn better English. Sera asked that I give her and Hye-Jin, another girl, English lessons. So I met with them a few times to help them out with grammar and phrases--and they were really good at it. They worked really hard to understand, and I was proud of them for picking up on so much. With the third Korean young woman, Hye-Kyung, occasionally chiming in to translate, we had a great few lessons.

One of our English lessons.
Hye-Jin on the left, Sera next.

One of the only other people that chilled with the Koreans was my friend David, who was probably my best friend on the Kibbutz. David usually invited me over to his place for a movie, whether that be I Am Legend or a documentary on an oil-related doomsday scenario. David himself was making an incredible doc about building houses out of earth, which he included me in. The brother is earth-friendly and pro-anarchy, pretty much putting a spin on every way of life I've accepted as conventional. I'm so glad I was able to get to know David. It meant a lot to me to get acquainted with how kindhearted and genuine he is.

David.

Another anarchist I met at the kibbutz is Zohar, who was another joy to hang out with. She and I got pretty close toward the end of my time at Samar. She helped me out in the kitchen, laughed at my lame jokes, invited me over to watch some stand-up, blah blah blah--she's awesome.

Silliness with Zohar.

Another friend that I got closer to toward the end of my time there was Noam, this really nice Isreali guy whose company I always enjoyed. He was really easy to talk to while were chillin' it up in the dining room or whatever.

Noam. Always with that smile.

And then there's Gadi, who I just have loads and loads of respect for. He's this guy who was born in Samar, did his thing in the States, and came back to live in Samar permanently. He's friendly, incredibly wise, and definitely has a lot to say. We bonded over music, religious talks, and the casual convo. I completely admired his standout personality and insight.

Gadi.
Hooking up some underground hip hop for us to listen to
while cutting on the rig in the orchard.

Honestly, the list of great people goes on and on and on (and on). Nadav, the goofball. Gilad, the other goofball. David, the editor I had dinners with. Tal, my neighbor who invited me to watch Excalibur. Lihi, pretty girl, slight crush on her. Offer, the soccer player, always invited me to play. Saf, who invited me to play soccer, too. I sucked. Tamar: Always asking me to chill. Noam (a girl, this time), quiet, beautiful smile. Tsor, the Buddhist windsurfer who hit up a couple monasteries in his time. Eran, a stunningly engaging conversationalist and deep thinker. Megumi, an incredible, special, wonderful Japanese woman. Benny, her always-smiling, awesome husband. Raz, my first friend. Another Offer, this goofy, hilarious, kind guy. Inbal: Another great young woman who worked with me in the orchard. Omri, chill, kind, subtly funny. Ori, the nice guy from Tel Aviv. Dagan, the silly youngin' with locks in his hair, who always made me feel included. Gil, all laughs. His dog, Lev, all cuteness. Phillip, friendly. Danny, jokes. Guy. Orley. Inga. Mary, Eileen's mother. The list continues. I really couldn't have asked for anything better. The kibbutz had such an amazing group of individuals.

When it was time for me to go, I got an incredibly satisfying goodbye. First of all, the Koreans asked me if I wanted to hang out a few days before leaving. When I got to the place, they had set up fruit and wine on the table--for me. They gave me gifts, like a token to attach to my phone, a note, a bookmark, and Koren currency. I could not believe they had gone to such lengths to celebrate their friendship with me, but those were the Koreans. Unbelievably compassionate people. They'd even given me a Korean name during my time with them--something along the lines of "Bo Minh," which means "kind guy."

And the night before I left, a few people saw me off. David, Nadav, Zohar, Offer, Lihi, Inbal, Barak, and Noam. It felt so good to know there would be friends for me to miss.

The Koreans' goodbye for me.
Sera, Tsan Hyun, Me, Hye-Jin, Anat, Hye-Kyung,
Choong Hyun, Lisa, Woojin, Tal, and Noam.
I have spelled a large percentage of these names wrong.

Some of the folks who stopped by the cabin on my last night.
Barak, Lihi, Offer and Zohar.

I am so thankful for the time I had there. It was hands down my best experience in Israel so far.

Shalom,
Eric