where is home?

note: this post is a bit delayed and comes from a page of my diary written 3 weeks ago.

I'm in the kitchen making a cup of tea when my mobile starts ringing in my room. I rush over, hurdling a couple of open half-empty boxes (how I love unpacking) and I reach it just in time. 

It was my dad, calling from his car: "We have officially moved out. I gave back the keys today." The satisfaction in his voice is palpable and understandably so as in little more than a month he emptied our family home by himself while working.

Unfortunately, I was too busy taking in the shock: the place I used to call home for the past 6 years wasn't home any more. Even more, the city where I spent the last 13 years of life, wasn't home any longer. Even though I wasn't particularly happy there-I can honestly say that I hated it for the majority of the time- I suddenly felt homeless. Which I'm not: I have 2 houses to go to, more than what most people have. However, I don't know which place is "home" anymore. Despite it's provincial placidity which made me feel trapped within a day and a trip to the supermarket, Varese was home (or so I realised of late): I grew up there, I made some lifelong friends and somehow over the past 2 years, it had become my inner north when the going got tough. The sight of the Alps from the plane, those same mountains which I could see in the distance when coming back from school, always spoke of home. On getting off the plane I could smell the air, dense with the fog and the pollution of all the industries scattered in the plain, and I knew that, for bad or for good, I was home. Now that my parents have moved where my dad works, I find myself at loss of a place to call home. Their flat- where my dad has been living during the week for the past few years- doesn't feel like home. Every time I went there, I felt a bit like a guest: I was clueless as to where things were or even how the shower worked. And probably I was, because that was my dad's flat, not our house. 

views from home (Italy)

Having just moved into the new flat here in Newcastle, I don't dare call it home yet. At the moment it's an empty house with the belongings of 3 people stored in. It's very pretty and modern-nothing like the old huge house we lived in last year- but it's not home yet. And at the moment Newcastle doesn't feel much home yet either. The streets once familiar feel a bit estranged to me. The clear bright northern sky which used to lighten up my heart now seems just cold and distant. I feel lost because my heart-or at least a significant chunk of it- has stayed at the other side of the Mediterranean, under the radiant Israeli sunshine. Right now, when I think of home, the image of a tiny room, with half broken furniture and creaky tiny beds, will imperiously appear to the eyes of my imagination. A room where I laughed until my tummy hurt, cried all my tears, shouted of joy and shared the deepest hurts of my heart. A room where I was hardly ever alone. A place that is not home, since my plane took off 48 hours ago. 

home?

And all contrast so much with my room now, my real actual house: big, spacious, with a huge double bed where I could lose myself. And yet I can't feel it as home, not yet. Maybe once Claudia and Aaron are back and we start our everyday life, back and through from the hospital, it will. 

But for now I am at loss of a place to call home.

I'm back.

Hello everyone!

I'm officially back. Back in Newcastle. Back at uni. Back-I hope- on the blog.

I know it's been a long time since I've last written but in the past few weeks life has been overwhelming.

Israel was a life-changing experience. I met wonderful people with whom I shared a unique connection.

I saw incredible places and breathtaking landscapes. 

I lived in a country at war, confronted myself with the ethical and human issues which came with it. 
I travelled alone, I pushed the boundaries of my comfort zone to an extent I would never think possible, I healed my soul scarred from a (now I know) unhealthy relationship. I might have even found some much needed self confidence. 

Most of all, I found myself. Somehow, in the past 2 years I have lost some fundamental pieces of my identity. The drive to be the best I could possibly be. Writing. My dreams of travelling. 

The past 2 months brought them all back and, more importantly, I have learnt to accept myself as I am (maybe not entirely, but I'm getting there).

Coming back to Newcastle was a huge shock to the system. Everything was different: the food, the sky, the people. The air smelt different and I felt once again a stranger in a foreign land. Starting placement in hospital was much harder. I found myself wondering what I was doing, if this was the right choice. Memories of small moments from the summer would resurface without warning and leave me breathless, suspended between tears and laughter. Somedays I need to pinch myself that this summer was real and not a beautiful dream. 

Coming back was good too. Moving into the new beautiful flat with Aaron and Claudia, like a small dysfunctional family. Even though we are a bit changed after a summer of adventures, our bond hasn't, which is very precious to me. 

They spoiled me rotten for my birthday!

Catching up with friends and seeing the warmth they welcome you back with. Meeting new people in the hospital. The Great North Run weekend with my parents. 

Placement itself is exciting! After the first week, I am starting to enjoy it although it's tiring. It makes me realise that this is the job I want to do, and somehow this knowledge is helping to settle back in. 

Yes, I miss Israel. Yes, somedays I wish I was still there. I miss the people I've met there. But for now my place is here in Newcastle, studying medicine.

Kibbutz life

Hello again!

First of all, I must make amends for being an awful blogger. Here there is always someone to talk to and people have amazing stories to tell. Plus the crazy situation and the news to catch up.

Through the horrible news, I thought that you may be curious about the everyday life of a kibbutz volunteer.

I normally get up at around 6, pushing it to 6.30 if I am super tired. It's way earlier than necessary as I start working at 7 but  1) I am a snail in the morning 2) I love having 10 minutes of quiet all to myself before heading to work.

Second to sunset, this is my favourite time of the day: the sun is out but not burning and the kibbutz seems still asleep (don't be fooled, in reality it is bustling with activity already).

I work in the dining hall/kitchen. I start my day by drinking coffee with all the others volunteers (minus Sophia who starts work at 8 in the bakery) before heading to our jobs. Chris used to work with me, while American Sophia (I will call her Fia from now on) works in the laundry room: she used to work with Rose and Rozy, a girl from Bulgaria and now that they have left with Franziska, the new volunteer.

My first job used to be cleaning around the dining hall and the kitchen which could be fairly gross at times. After that I would help out cutting vegetables for the salads which are the pride of the kitchen staff at the lunch buffet. Now that I am the only volunteer left, I work only in the salads.

I really like helping out in the kitchen! I love cutting vegetables and aromatic herbs and see how they get mixed (although sometimes I shiver seeing how much salt or sugar ends in the salad). Also, it's a funny, lively environment: the two ladies in charge of the salad department-Ghila and Aviva- don't speak English so we understand each other through gestures and the few Hebrew words that Chris and I master. I am slowly learning the names of the vegetables, whereas he just shout at random times "Kuolakavot!" (well done) or "Iofi iofi" (literally it means beautiful but in our jargon means that we have finished our task). If Ido, the volunteer leader, Amnon, the boss of the kitchen, or Zohar, one of the cooks, are around they translate for us, even though Ghila's mimicry is so eloquent to make their intervention useless. The kitchen staff is completed by the two Arab cooks- Nidal and Khaled- who speaks very little English (and pretends to not know at all) with whom we communicate mainly gesticulating.

At around 9.15 we eat breakfast all together: in line with the Israeli love for vegetables, we eat salad (and boiled eggs)! 

Lunch is served as a buffet from 11 to 1. This is generally my favourite moment as I get to see almost the whole kibbutz as they come in for lunch, from the school kids to the elderly. The only exception are the very extremes of age- infants, toddlers and the very elderly who are bed /chair bound- whose lunch is delivered by Ido or Amnon.

Chris and I serve the main course from the wagon and make sure the food trays are always full. It is such a good opportunity to connect with people in the kibbutz: some will talk to me in English, some synthetically in Hebrew, some will say very long sentences in Hebrew ( that's so hard). As half of the kibbutzim are originally from Brazil, some will attempt a mixture of Portuguese, Spanish and Italian.  Some will talk to Chris in German or Russian.... and the dining hall turns into Babel Tower!! No surprise that one day I got confused and started talking to Fia in Italian, getting annoyed when she looked at me in utter puzzlement!

During lunch time I sometimes get a short Hebrew lesson by General Markus: he is an elderly gentleman in charge of checking who comes to eat. He is very nice and took to heart teaching me some Hebrew.

We sit for lunch at 1. I have gone back to a veggie diet within a week of living here, partly thanks to Sophia's influence and partly because it's the healthiest option available, as the meat is often swimming in oil or sauce. I eat quite a lot of salad and pulses, with cous cous or potatoes  as a way to coax myself into running when the sun sets.

When everyone is done eating (around 1.45) we clean the room while Khaled, Nidal and Zhoar clean the kitchen. We are normally done by 2-2.30, which leaves just the time for a quick chill in the room before heading to the POOL! Never would I have guessed I would become a pool side lover but...people change right?

  

Furthermore, this is probably the nicest pool I have been to (and possibly the cleanest too)...my tan is coming out quite nicely. I had forgotten how good you look when your skin is not as pale as milk!

I spend most of my afternoon trying to catch up on my journal writing (and failing miserably, as I end up chatting with people). 

Some evenings we go running after the pool closes. But I will tell you about our running shenanigans here.

After dinner we (rarely) go to the pub for a beer or head over to Rafi's room for some tea and chat. He finished military service 3 months ago and is living in the kibbutz until he finishes a course to become a crane operator, then he'll move to Jerusalem. He is really nice and always kind to us. Read: he tolerates us anytime we feel like pestering him in the evening or the afternoon. Initially, he and I were not best mates, mainly because he really struggled to understand me, but once eh got used to the accent and to my occasional mumbling we have become quite good friends.

This is, my dear readers, the take of a normal day in the life of a kibbutz volunteers. It was meant to be brief but as I wrote along I realised that my days are actually quite interesting..exciting really!

I hope you are all having a great summer!! What are you all up to?

my version of the events.

The decreasing moon slowly appears behind a cloud while I sit outside trying to put my thoughts into words. For the first time I am struggling to find the appropriate words for a post. Admittedly I embarked in the complicated job of describing the situation in Israel as I am living it from this little kibbutz in the north of Israel. It's hard to write because the situation is complex and the international news seem to be telling only one side of the story, because the feelings of being here get mixed with the opinions which were so easy to spit out once I was at home.

I type and delete, type and delete, frustrated. There is something odd in the air, some kind of electric tension. Over the past few days, the news talked of a land attack in Gaza as a realistic possibility, especially after an incursion from the commandoes in the night between Saturday and Sunday. I wonder if they are getting ready to go just now, as I give up writing and get ready for bed.

This morning I realised that what struck me last night was the silence. Save the whoosh of the cars on the road and the odd dog barking, the night was perfectly silent. In the past few days the low growling roar of military planes from a nearby base has been the constant soundtrack of our everyday activities, so much that I almost didn't notice when it stopped. I wonder what that may mean: are they going in, so they stopped incursions from the sky? Or are they easing the bombing on Gaza in the unlikely (or so I thought before watching the news) perspective of a ceasefire?

In little more than week the situation escalated from a few rockets and consequent retaliating Israeli air strikes into a full-blown war whose expenses are been paid by civilians, mainly in the Gaza strip. I am sure that most of you will be familiar with the images broadacast by the main international media and as of today the numbers of casualties is incredibly high. Even considering the Israeli claim that Hamas is inflating numbers, I think that after 8 days of strikes which hit over 1000 sites (IDF figures) on their territory the life of civilians in Gaza is dire. And probably without much hope of improvement.
On the other side of the border, Israeli civilians are sleeping in shelters or have left their houses, seeking hospitality in the north of the country. School and summer camps are closed and everyday life activities are disrupted. Overall, the number of Israeli casualties is much lower (the first death just occured) which is often used to demonstrate the brutality and excessive force of the Israeli attack. Don't get me wrong: the Israeli power of attack is disporportionally stronger than any defence in Gaza. Furthermore, Israel possess a very efficient defence system- the Iron Dome-and sirens to alert its citizens of imminents attacks. This and the shelters have played a crucial role in limiting the number of casualties. I find incredibly rich the way foreign media portrays the Israeli efficient protective system almost as an additional element of guilt: why shouldn't a country who had been at war since its establishment do the best they can to protect themselves (and I am talking only of the pure protective system)? In my opinion, media should compare the number of attacks or the extent of each part's arsenals because that is a more objective measure of the difference between Israel and Hamas. That and the fact that Hamas is using civilians as a shield. Current opinion is that the majority of the missiles are stored under civil buildings such as houses, schools and hospitals, which are consequently targeted by the Israeli airstrikes. Yes, they tell in advance to allow civilians to evacuate the area but they often do not have anywhere to go or- according to Israeli media- are discouraged from doing so by Hamas.

Today it seemed there was hope for a ceasefire brokered by Egypt to whom Israel agreed very quickly but which hasn't been respected by Hamas who had fired rockets the whole day and partly rejected the ceasefire. Israel, as announced, started airstirkes again in the afternoon. If on one side reacting to fire with fire is just further increasing tension and is not going to fix the problems in Gaza on the long run, on the other Israel can't afford to sit and watch while half of its territory is under the threat of rockets which disrupt everyday life and forces civilians in shelters.

As you can see, it's a very complicated situation and it's hard to take a stand. Heck, it's hard to describe it in an impartial and objective way! Due to the distance from the main areas of conflict I rely mainly on watching the news-the BBC, the Israeli news and some German newspapers which Sophia reads- to keep up to date with the situation. Right now, I feel deeply  for this beautiful land and I wish from the deepest recess of my heart that sometime and somehow there will be peace in Israel. In the space of a few weeks I fell in love with this land, burnt by the summer sun, yet blossoming under the hard work of her inhabitants, torn by conflicts and contradictions, and with her skies so luminous they hurt my eyes.

Here in Giv'at Oz the situation is calm. They opened the shelters and showed us where to go just to be ready. Also because there were some rockets from Lebanon and Syria. Today the siren went off in a kibbutz 20 minutes from here for a rocket from Gaza-everyone in the kitchen was very surprised because rockets from the south never hit so far away.  If the siren goes off here we have 1,5 minutes to get to the shelter if it's coming from the Syria or Lebanon (give or take my time for a 400m) and possibly 2-3 minutes if it's from Gaza. Surprisingly, I am not freaking out. I am alert and keep my eyes open but I am not scared every waking minute. Life in the kibbutz goes on and I go with it: I find that can forget about it while I am at work or spending time with people.

Here is it, the hardest blog post of my life. Never I felt so intensely that my words were falling short of my feelings than while writing this post. The situation has a miriad point of views and the more you look into it, the more complicated it becomes. 
I apologise if this posts has offended you in any way. I am always sincere when I write here and this is no exception. I wrote down my feelings and my thoughts about this unique situation I am in because I felt that sometimes people from outside don't quite understand how we live in Israel. These thoughts are jumbled and mixed with the conflicting emotions which inevitably come with being inside a situation rather than observing from outside. But I wanted to share them with you.

i am in Israel!

Oh hey! 

I am finally writing you from Israel! More precisely from Giv'at Oz, a small kibbutz near Afula.

It really feels surreal to be finally here and my first week and a half vanished in a snap of fingers. Which makes it really hard for me to tell you what happened so far because I don't know where to start from.

Possibly the beginning may be a good place to start, right?

I spent my first night in Tel Aviv, where I met some interesting people who had travelled, seen and done an awful

lot more than me: the introvert in me- the one always afraid of awkward conversations with strangers and of meeting new people-was really surprised on how easy you can chat with people you have barely met. The morning after I chose my kibbutz and headed there almost straight away.

Well, almost...beforehand I wanted to check out the famous beaches, which is also all I saw from Tel Aviv.

On the northward bus I was starting to get a bit anxious about the kibbutz: with only 4-5 volunteers it was quite a small place and if we dusk' get along, then...of course these were only the usual idle worries my mind likes to lull herself with all the time.

Because as it turned out, I needed not to worry. All the people here are very nice and I am making already great friends.

So far there is 5 of us. Sophia, my room mate, is from Germany and is studying speech therapy. We get along so well that is almost unbelievable: I never found someone who could follow my crazy lines of thought ad effortlessly as she does. 

Then there is Sophia (I know, what are the chances?) who is from the US and is studying maths. She is really smiley and is always nice to have her around. She's been studying a semester in Jerusalem so she's become our person of reference for things to do or translating from Hebrew. Last ( but not least) there are Chris and Rose who are married with each other: they are very nice but they tend to keep a lot to themselves especially after work. Plus the young people from the kibbutz and a group of "lone soldiers"- soldiers who don't have family- from the IDF.

Kibbutz life is very chilled and it's almost like being in a bubble. There is very little to worry about: you wake up in the morning, go to work, rest after work (as of late in the pool) and on occasion you go and watch the match in the pub. Or more likely go for a run at sunset with both Sophias. 

the dining hall

Sophia chilling in the pool

As we get all our meals from the kibbutz kitchen ( we get breakfast and lunch, but we take a container with food from lunch) there is no need to cook or buy food...it's completely stress free, at least for us volunteers.

my diner and Sophia's: as you say, "great minds..."

It's such a good hakuna matata feeling that I am constantly smiling and happy...not bubbly-excited happy but a deeper sense of general contentment and serenity which I have been chasing on my runs over the past few months. 

Because of the "bubble effect" of the kibbutz all the turmoil of the past weeks was just a faint echo brought by checking the news at lunchtime and after work. As of yesterday the situation has become a little bit more tangible as the kibbutz is expecting to host between 35-60 refugees from downsouth: Sophia and Rozy (a volunteer from another organisation) had to move out of their building to make room for them and initially we were asked to be ready to help with cleaning and moving their luggage across (which we didn't have to do in the end).

Meanwhile the news get a bit more worrisome as the tension between Israel and Hamas escalates. 

We wait and see because at the moment it seems the best option: none of us wants to leave earlier!

it's official...

I am going to Israel!!! 

Exam results came out yesterday and,as I passed the year, I am now free to spend my summer holidays working in a kibbutz!

I decided that this was how I wanted to spend my last long summer of freedom over the Easter holidays. I got accepted in the program and my visa came through at the beginning of May-as those of you following me on instagram may have seen. And I started a pinterest board about Israel during my procrastination time.

However, I wanted to wait before telling everyone and putting it up on the blog because I am superstitious. With 2 exams to go and one assignment to be marked it wasn't granted I could go.

But, as I passed...Israel wait for me!

I waited to buy the guide until I was sure I could go...superstitious much?

I am beyond excited because this trip has been on my travel bucket list since I was 14. Volunteering in a kibbutz was the best way for me to stay and absorb a little of Israeli culture. Furthermore, there will be other volunteers from all over the world, which I am really looking forward to. I love talking with someone who has a different background and upbringing. I find the little differences in perspective- despite the interconnection of the modern world- utterly fascinating.

Have you got any plans for the summer?:)