It had been up in the air for a while as to whether our winter break would begin on December 25th, as we had been told way back at the June orientation in Austin, or on the 31st, as schedule changes aren't technically changes when there never was a schedule in the first place. Tired of waiting for a decision, Hannah and I booked a flight to Goa for Christmas Day and away we went.
We spent the first night in Anjuna, a touristy, fairly gross beach town, before discovering that the nicer beaches were north of where we were. Our cab pulled up the next morning to Mandrem Beach, where we fell in love with the quiet, clean, white sand and parked ourselves for a week.
 |
| The view that made us stay. |
 |
| Our home for the week |
 |
| Beachside restaurant |
We literally did nothing all week but lie on the beach on wooden loungers, taking the occasional dip, reading and getting up every once in a while for food. On the 30th, our ETA friend Sarah, who was placed in Madurai, joined us, and we spent New Year's Eve with some people that we met. We stayed up all night, dancing, hanging out on the beach, and enjoying the company. I unfortunately lost my phone in the process, an annoying price to pay. At midnight we were getting out of a cab, running to avoid having sparks rain down on us from the fireworks being set off all around us. It was the perfect way to bring in the new year, a great follow up to last year, when I went to Times Square with some friends visiting from Sweden.
 |
| Yours truly |
We spent the last few days taking walks, exploring the beaches beside Mandrem, and feeling grateful for our good fortune to have been there.
 |
| Me and Hannah, happy campers |
On January 2nd, Hannah departed to Kolkata to visit her boyfriend and I went to Mapusa, the nearest "city," to get a bus to Mumbai, where I was catching my flight to Israel. Mapusa is so far the yuckiest place I've been in India. Granted, I was only at the bus station, and any bus station is bound to be aesthetically disappointing, but waiting there for two hours by myself was a fairly unpleasant experience. I did meet a nice Canadian guy, though, which made the experience a little better. After an overnight bus to Mumbai, I paid 100 rupees to leave my stuff at the Salvation Army hostel, and spent the day wandering the city.
Getting to the airport in the evening was a nightmare. Cab drivers were saying it would take three hours to get there, and were charging crazy amounts. After it took half an hour to go about a kilometer, the driver dropped me off at Victoria Terminal to take a train, where I was promptly told I could not get a train from there to the airport. Exhausted, anxious and not knowing what to do, I started crying in the middle of the train station. No sooner did the tears start to flow did two men who looked to be in their sixties come over to help me out. They were distressed by my distress, taking me to the ticket window where people in line unquestioningly let me cut them when they saw how upset I was, helping the guys to help me. I even had to insist on paying for my own ticket, as they wanted to do everything for me! One of the guys put me on the women's car of the correct train, before hopping on another car and waiting for me at the terminal station and putting me in a cab. I had to go to the domestic terminal to pick up my Israeli passport, which I had forgotten at the check in counter in Delhi and Hannah's boyfriend, Kundun, had facilitated transporting it to Mumbai. Of course, the airline people had no idea what I was talking about, prompting cry #2 and a phone call to Kundun, who set her straight and got them to help me. Passport in hand, I got in a prepaid taxi to go to the international terminal a few kilometers away, only to look at the price list to see a 2,200 rupee tariff (about $40), and force them to stop and let me out. Some fierce bargaining later, I was in an auto and made it to the El Al security counter, where I said my bag had been in a hostel storage room and was told it had to be emptied and checked. At my wit's end, tired beyond beliefand desperate to have this ordeal behind me, I cried a third time, prompting confusion and hesitation from the poor security guy. I assured him that I was fine, to do what he had to do, I was just tired and not feeling great, but I could tell he felt bad for making me cry. And at last, I was on the plane. Sweet relief!
I slept for a lot of the flight and easily made my way to Haifa from the airport on the train. It was so reassuring to be in a place so familiar and unchanged. I of course spent the first few days totally sick to my stomach, requiring a quick dose of heavy antibiotics before infecting my poor, unsuspecting grandparents, but you can't expect India to stay where it is. I met my cousin Yuval's baby Roee, born in August.
 |
| Roee, Yuval and Tami |
I went to lunch at the kibbutz, seeing kids who had grown feet since last I saw them, and meeting kids who hadn't been born during my last visit in 2008.
 |
| Shlomo, Odelia, Avishag |
 |
| Avishag, Orya, Daniela and Me |
 |
| Cousins! The cutest. |
The week I spent in Israel was the rainiest and snowiest in ten years. Train tracks were flooded and everyone was receiving picture messages from friends and relatives in the mountains and in Jerusalem, making snow angels and snowmen in feet of white powder. It was a great excuse to stay inside and just spend time with people. I spent the night at the kibbutz, hanging out with Shirit and her boys, Yinon, six, and Roee, twelve. Before I knew Roee, I never liked working with children. It was really my relationship with him, more than anything else, that made me see the fun and reward of spending time with kids. We always had a special connection, and it was such a delight to see him, his voice changing, tall and mature and yet still the sensitive, unique child I remembered. There was a part of me that was sad, as if I had never had the opportunity to say goodbye to who he was as a small child. In any case, seeing him was a total joy.
I caught up with my mom's friends and the other Yaeli, with whom every time we meet it's like we never parted. I ate lots of cheese and olives and pickles and salad, not to mention the schnitzels and ktzitzot my grandmother had waiting for me in the fridge. And I got to spend lots of quality time with my grandparents, who are positive and curious as ever.
 |
| Grandpa Everett and his harmonica |
We also ogled at the picture of the newest addition to the family, their first great-grandchild. My cousin Carla gave birth on December 26th to Leo, the cutest baby boy on this side of the Equator.
 |
| Carla and Leo |
