I think I just won the Jewish Lottery...

This whole fellowship seems to be a series of fortunate events. To the point where I should probably pick up gambling at one of the seven casinos next to my apartment because I’m clearly on some sort of a hot streak. I mean, come on. When else will I have a job that sends me to live in Europe and traipse around America, Israel, Tallinn, and one of my absolute favorite cities in Europe? I hope the answer is always and forever, but, just in case, I’ll buy my lottery ticket now thank you very much.

            The reason for my giddiness and feelings of extreme fortune: right after the pleasant surprise that was spring camp I was also pleasantly surprised that JDC sent me to a program in a city that stole my heart long ago, Vienna. When I was first interviewed for placements in Europe, my internal dialogue went something like this: “woo! I might get this fellowship! I mean, it’s not the middle of nowhere Africa but it’s near Vienna!” I never actually thought I’d have the time to go to Vienna, but I liked that it was close and theoretically an option. And then, suddenly, not only was it an option, but also it was actually happening and it was part of my job. I’ll take it.

            The stars aligned because JDC works in a lot of places on a lot of projects so any connection to them means you’re always in the right place at the right time. This time (and, as far as I’m concerned, every time), the right place was Vienna thanks to JDC Regions. JDC Regions is a branch of the organization that brings together Jewish leaders from all over Europe to strengthen their leadership skills, community development work, and international connections. They have a number of seminars with different names and purposes in different cities, and this was one of “Generation Next’s” productions, which focuses on leadership training. So, about 30 Jews from Europe joined me to become better leaders for our Jewish communities. Some, like me, were not from the region in which they work, and others had been involved in their communities their whole lives. The conglomeration of Jews from and representing different areas reminded me of my serious identity crisis, and I could tell I was in good company. The question “where are you from,” started to feel as overwhelmingly confusing as if you ask a senior, “where are you going next year,” and as complicated as if you asked me summarize my thesis in a ten second interpretive dance. Here’s why: I know I’m from Maryland but when I’m talking to Europeans I have to say “outside Washington, D.C..” because Maryland isn’t New York or LA so it doesn’t get a lot of press in this part of the world. But, if I find out my audience knows the US, then I have to quickly amend my answer, lest I offend someone by pretending that Maryland is DC. After that intro, I want to include that I’m a temporary representative of Riga. I usually just say the city’s name thinking someone out here might know it’s not part of Russia (or at least not at the time of this blog post). All too often, however, people give me a blank stare, so then I have more clarification to do. I have to explain that Riga is in Latvia. And then, while all of that is floating around in my head I get so wrapped up and discombobulated that I wonder if I should start saying I’m living in Georgia (the state, not the country. Yay for more geographical confusion!), because I spent four lovely years there and have planned another 6. By the end of all this rambling both the listener (assuming they’re still there) and I are totally dazed and confused. I guess it’s better to have too many homes than too few, but that doesn’t make me any less lost.

            Anyhoo, so after all those long introductions we had a bunch of sessions on leadership in the “New World.” Aka, how can we use technology and creativity to be better leaders. We learned about fun new websites, I finally learned what a hashtag is, we painted pretty pictures, and I saw this great short TED talk: http://www.ted.com/talks/derek_sivers_how_to_start_a_movement

I also got to meet young Jews from Jewish communities that most people told me are old and dying out. Apparently not! When I went to Warsaw and Poland we only saw the Holocaust memorial sights. In general, most trips to Eastern Europe focus on the death and destruction, painting these towns as long gone memories of Jews past. While it is absolutely essential to learn about and see what the Holocaust left (or often, didn’t leave), it is just as important to see what is still there and what is thriving. People are still living and they’re living proud Jewish lives. If we spent even a fraction of our Poland trip with the current Jewish community we would actually be doing something to support them. After all, you can’t support people you don’t know exist.

            All in all, it was wonderful to spend Shabbat and this seminar with interesting people in one of my favorite places. And, of course, I had just enough time to go to my favorite restaurants, wander through a great market, have incredible gelato, try Sri Lankan food, and go for a bike ride. So, just any other perfect trip for me.

I survived Spring Camp. And all I got was this lousy T-Shirt. And a boatload of fun.

            When JDC first told me to interview for the Baltic placement I thought they were crazy. Mostly because I didn’t think I wanted to move to the Baltics. Then I actually interviewed for the position and when my interviewer/future boss mentioned “Jewish camp” it all made sense. After all, my CV kind of looks like this: camp, teaching, camp, teaching, camp, World Market (it was a one time stint. Glad that’s over.) So I came here knowing I would go to camp but thinking that would mean another summer living in cabins, swimming in lakes, and eating s’mores as a camp planner who is a tad too old (and experienced) to be a counselor herself. Well, just like everything else here, camp was quite a surprise. Not only was there also a spring camp but it’s usually covered in snow, we live in a hotel, they don’t have graham crackers so they definitely don’t have s’mores, and, oh, biggest surprise, I was going to be a counselor! I knew I’d started to act younger since working here but I had no idea I had become that young! I can still hang around a playground with the best of them but in general I’m much more like an 80 year old than an 18 year old. After all, since living on my own I’ve picked up knitting, baking for/forcefeeding youngin’s as I tell them they’re too skinny, and going to bed when the sun goes down. But apparently it was time for counselor Hannah to revive herself for one last hurrah. And it was time for counselor Hannah to do so in Russian.  I was scared and my bosses were petrified. But the bus came and I got on it.

            So before leaving for camp I said my goodbyes, a little worried I was actually saying goodbye forever. A little dramatic, maybe, but I couldn’t quite fathom making it out alive after a week of having the energy of a 10 year old while being fed camp food, living in a hotel with no space or freedom, and muddling through all of it in a language I still can’t quite figure out. Being a counselor was hard enough work in America, when the campers theoretically speak my language, but it seemed near impossible now that I knew the luxury of living on my own and the perks of being a camp leader. But, to camp I went.

            The first day was pre-camp, which was basically like any other seminar, so I felt kind of at home and mostly exhausted. As always, there was a lot of sitting, a lot of listening to and talking in Russian (or in my case, picking up some of the words, confusing most of the words with other words, and “talking” while everyone stares at me blankly because even though I’m absolutely saying the right words apparently I’m speaking another language. On the bright side, I made up my own language!), and cookie eating. Really, the reason for these seminars is the cookies. They buy them by the kilo and eat them by the handfuls. I know that Jewish events usually revolve around food but these events are a whole new story. First of all, the meals are the least important part. We go hours without eating, sometimes not being blessed with dinner until after midnight. Instead of tasty meals and delights everything revolves around cookies that come in massive boxes and taste like boxes. They’re on all of the seminars, in all of the meetings, and all over the floor of the community kitchen. The madrichim and teenagers shovel them while I watch, so distracted by how bad the cookies are, how many everyone’s eaten, and how quickly they ate them that I can barely focus on the conversation I was already struggling to understand. At least I have constant entertainment. And they have a constant sugar high.

            Anyhoo, so I made it through the first day, tired and incredibly nervous. But still kicking. The next morning didn’t do much to calm my nerves because everyone was running around on a mission while I stood lost, trying to figure out what memo I had missed. I think that in addition to many of the other Soviet traditions and ways of life they inherited they also inherited some understanding of efficiency, organization, and ability to prepare for enemies that kicks in when a small army is coming  them and, as a foreigner without those genes, the best I could do was stop and stare at the whirlwind around me.  Before I could figure out what was going on or how to help the bus was there and the army was fast approaching. I immediately knew this camp was different than what I was used to because the first plan of attack was to check all of the teenagers’ suitcases for harmful substances (caffeine, alcohol, or anything else I wanted to confiscate, like candy…) I think security was better there than it is in the DC airport. So, props on that one.

            After some of the logistics were settled it was time for opening ceremonies. That entire first day is a blur because I always seemed to be late or lost. I couldn’t figure out how to get somewhere on time because the programs ended and began at the same second. I’ve also never been so quiet because I thought that since my co-madrich knew Russian he should lead the peulot (activities) while I played more of a Vana White role. Eventually I realized the campers could understand my English if I spoke really really slowly, and that, in fact, the blank stares on their faces were not confusion or boredom, just sheer teenagereness. That, like everything else, took some getting used to. So, the only things I really remember are getting lassoed by a rope of sausages and speaking in Russian in a skit.

            By the next morning I was beginning to get with the program, especially because every day was pretty similar. We woke up, spent 15 minutes playing games as a group, 15 minutes dancing, then sang Modeh Ani, Shemah, and Hatikvah.

After the morning ritual came  breakfast, the only edible meal of the day, and the time for me to stock up on the hard boiled eggs that I would need to make it through the day. Camp food is bad but this was a nightmare. I think the kitchen decided the best way to deal with vegetarians was to starve us out or force us to convert because the vegetarian options ranged from a few slimy vegetables (they tried to serve me fried cucumbers. That did NOT go over well), fried potatoes to go with french fries (because that makes sense), or the mashed potatoes from the first day repurposed (aka fried or browned). I did get about two pieces of fish during the week, only to find out that apparently salmon can be chewy and you can serve white fish covered in cheese… The funny thing is that even through the starvation I was never once tempted by the meat because that looked just as unappealing. So instead I became the crazy girl with the eggs. And it was worth it.

            After breakfast came 30 minutes to meet a new madrich, aka we played the game mafia. Apparently this is the only game they know or they just really like pretending to sleep and kill each other because this game was as over-requested and over-played as any Justin Bieber jam. Mafia and “ride that pony” were absolute staples that no one ever seemed to get sick of. Unlike with Justin Bieber songs I was happy for the repetition because it meant playing a game I actually knew.

            After those wake up games came a rotating schedule of peulot (Jewish educational games the madrichim planned), Israeli dancing, singing, Judaism with the rabbi, inedible meals, an evening program, madrich time, and, my personal favorite, “Laila Tov.” Every day had a different theme that related back to “Me and my Jewish world.” So the first day was the Jewish lifecycle, then me and my country, Jews in the Diaspora, anti-semitism Israel and Tikkun Olam. I’m impressed by how educational camp was. Not only were two hours a day dedicated to learning during vacation but I think they actually learned something. Strange.

            The evening programs were things like Jeopardy, (except they don’t actually know what Jeopardy is), make your own skit, or rotating stations where the groups visited different characters who gave them different tasks. No matter what the program was, they always involved the most elaborate of costumes. I watched madrichim transform into angry babushka in a matter of minutes. Usually the costumes related to the project, but sometimes they just kind of appeared. Apparently if you don’t wear a silly hat or jacket the program just won’t work.

The most elaborate and confusing costumes came every night during “Laila Tov.” To send the wee ones to bed the camp gathered to watch a chapter of a “continuing” story. I put the word continuing in quotations because the only thing that really connected the story was the fact that there was always the same princess and strangely mustached man. Other than that, there were new characters every day: bananas, cats, spongebobs, and smurfs, just to name a few. I have never been so happy to not know the language because as ridiculous as all the characters were, it was even more ridiculous when you didn’t have any idea why they were there or why they were dancing. The highlight of my camp experience was when I was blessed to watch it all from on stage one night as the butt of a horse.

            The other personal highlight was the discoteka. This is particularly ironic because camp dances were the bane of my existence as a camper and counselor. There was nothing fun about groups of kids and teenagers awkwardly trying to pick each other up in a dark gym while bad music raged. Dances were uncomfortable and unnecessary to the point where I preferred a dank and dirty bathroom. At Aviv, however, camp dances were finally fun! The music was a mix of American pop, American oldies that most Americans don’t really know or dance to, and some incredible Russian jams about “tea and sugar” and dancing with your elbows. I raved, I danced, and I jumped around so much I’m still having trouble walking. And it was worth it.

            So, all in all, I’m still getting over the exhaustion and the cold but not only did I survive, I actually had fun. I guess the surprises continue.

And now, an ode to my wonderful group:

Oh and I invented a fun game: i spy with my little eye WAY too many selfies. How many can you find in each picture? Welcome to my life with teenagers.