ישראל (Israel)- Pt VI: Hiking, screaming jackals and Hezbollah

Nothing arouses me more than a nice, big...HIKE! Hiking is the dog's bollocks (very good to non-UK readers). Not many young people are into it these days, well I am. Without trying to sound too cheesy; the world is a beautiful place. Every country has it's own form of beauty. For me, there is no better way to experience this beauty than sticking on a pair of walking shoes and getting up close and personal to these places.

So I was very lucky to be put in the Kibbutz I was. Bar'am is situated in the deep north of Israel. It's about a one mile walk from the Lebanese border (more on that later). This region of the country is surrounded by an ocean of mountains, which is an alien sight to an Englishman. So I was pretty much creaming myself at having these mountains right on my doorstep. When the Jews started settling in Palestine/Israel, they had a massive hard on for planting trees. I suppose in the same manner you might redecorate a new house you'v just bought. Or perhaps it's to make their borders harder to penetrate from invading forces. But, whatever the reason, it really has transformed the landscape. Looking over at the treeless hills of Lebanon, you can see what it was like before the Jews came. I think the Israeli's can give themselves a pat on the back for that one.

I saw a lot of wildlife on these walks. I saw, snakes, lizards, deer, tortoises and jackals, to name a few. Just seeing a tortoise strolling in the wild was such a spin out at first. I must of really shown how foreign I was by getting all excited by an animal these people must see everyday. I remember being on a bus to Jerusalem, we drove past a camel and I went mental.

"OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT?! IT WAS A CAMEL! HAHA!"
I was sitting next to an Israeli friend, who just looked at me like I was severely retarded.

Jackals were also completely foreign to a lot of people. I only ever saw one on it's own. But you could be sure that at every sunset, these little bastards would start howling to the moon. God knows how many of them it was. I got used to it, but I remember when I first heard these things I thought it was a pack of Scousers crying for my possessions! One Viking type Swede wanted to go into the forest one night and hunt one with his bare hands. I drunkenly agreed to help him on this pointless quest. It never materialised though because I was always to drunk to go and help him. One time he gave a classic Johnny Foreigner moment when he got a bag of meat to use as bait. He struts over to me and booms: "I have the meat...now I need a man". I started pissing myself with laughter, he failed so see what was so amusing though! Here's a picture I got of one and some of the area:

Not that long ago though, this region was right in the thick of it. To the north of Israel is Lebanon. The south of Lebanon is mostly ruled by a militant Muslim group called Hezbollah. The Lebanese government isn't strong enough to do anything about it. These boys aren't to be taken lightly. I have a feeling the fact that Iran is constantly pumping Hezbollah with cash and weapons may have something to do with this. In layman terms, their not too keen on Israel and vice-versa. One morning on the 12th July 2006, Hezbollah planted IEDs on the Israeli side of the border and blew up two armoured Humvees. This killed three IDF soldiers, injured two and two more were captured.

It was when I learnt this story that my view on the whole Palestine/Israel thing started to change a bit. In the UK, our news always makes out that it's these poor defenceless Arabs who get blown to kingdom come by the big bullies of Israel. Well clearly this time, Israel had done nothing wrong and Hezbollah wanted to play Bertie big bollocks by capturing two Israeli soldiers. After this happened, Israel's chief of staff Dan Halutz said, "if the soldiers are not returned, we will turn Lebanon's clock back 20 years" and this they did. They sent Lebanon back to the f*cking stone age. I remember seeing this on the news and thinking "Wow, those Israeli's are arseholes. Only 50 Israeli's dead and over 1000 Lebanese dead. That's not fair". Which I suppose is rich coming from a man who's armed forces have inflicted more casualties on Afghans than any Afghan has on Brits.

Does that make the British Army bad people? No. It's just part of war. Part of the fact that NATO has the technology to do such big damage and the Taliban doesn't. So does that mean NATO should downgrade their weapons to make it 'fair'? No. Just like it's not Israel's fault their military is far superior to any of the surrounding nations. Israel's approach to war is pretty much "Don't start nothing and there won't be nothing". I always thought Israel was the aggressor, but after reading up on it, they merely smash down those who attack them in the first place.

I don't want people to think I'm completely 'pro-Israel'. I think to pick a side like this as if it's a football game is ridiculous. Both sides have a very valid point and this is the problem. The Israel/Palestine problem has many similarities to Northern Ireland. I actually feel for the Palestinians, there's no doubt that their getting a rough deal. Just like I have no doubt the Catholics in N.I. were getting a rough deal. But as long as you PURPOSELY blow up innocent people to try and get your message across, no-one's going to listen and you deserve every bit of brutal retaliation you get! Israel's not helping matters with the whole West Bank settlement thing. I know a few secular Israeli's who oppose this. Israeli's are normal people who want to live a normal life. You think they love living the life of being surrounded by constant potential wars?

It's a situation I don't envy at all and I'm so happy to live in a country that doesn't have this problem on it's plate. The Israelis were always telling me that the war with Hezbollah will kick off again soon. Whether this is true or their understandable state of paranoia, I don't know. But I imagine it won't be pretty. I didn't see one bit of war during my time in Israel. My closest to any action I got was when I was hiking in the mountains one day. I heard a bang in the distance and then another louder one which shook the ground. Needless to say I started walking double time. Because the Kibbutz had a security fence around it, and I just pictured them closing the gate and refusing to let me in whilst a bunch of Hezbollah heavys closed down on me!

That's the difference between a terrorist attack in the UK and one out there. In the UK, if it happens, it will be in a crowded public place. In Israel, you could be sitting at home in your underwear watching Top Gear, when all of a sudden a missile comes falling on you. It must be at the back of every Israelis mind, because I know it was mine. About once every few weeks or so, the thought would pop up in your head. I could appreciate even more how safe my country is when I sat down on a park bench and thought "I've got more chance of death by tripping over a dog turd than a missile falling on me".

Hezbollah were really close to the Kibbutz. Here's a map (with genuine IDF war tactics on them!) and some pictures I took at the border:

Genuine military map from the 2006 war :p

Lebanon

I think these bullets are from the 2006 war. Some unlucky bastard must of got hit because there were still Morphine needles on the ground!

Right, I think we'll wrap it up there folks. I went a bit more political today, because to go to Israel and not get political is like going shopping with the girlfriend and not getting pissed off!

ישראל (Israel)- Pt V: My most drunken night ever

I have two major regrets about my time in Israel. My first regret, was not taking enough pictures. When I got home and looked at my pictures of Israel; I was so pissed at myself. I saw so many beautiful and interesting places. Yet I was too effing lazy to get my camera out and click a button. I can promise you now that I will NOT be making this mistake when I re-start my adventures next month.

My second regret was getting so drunk and getting massive blank spots in my memory from the night before. That's not fun for me. One of the best things about getting drunk is the day after. When you and your friends are reminiscing about the night before. Laughing at he who pulled a leprosy-infested pig the night before. And applauding he who blagged a threesome with Megan Fox and mid 1990's Jennifer Aniston (not that she's ugly now by any means!). I missed out on a lot of these tales. That's no thanks to 'Alaska Vodka'. Ah Alaska vodka. It cost 4 quid (£4 to non-UK readers) for a litre and tasted like AID's (if AID's has a taste?)

One of the first thing people told me about the Kibbutz was: "You will be drinking straight vodka". I completely laughed this off and politely retorted "No f*cking chance!". Someone should of given me a knife and fork when I said that, because I was soon going to eat my words. I can't remember when and where exactly. But I do recall that I was happily drinking my beer and generally have a chilled night. This was soon to change when someone pulled out a bottle of Alaska Vodka. Why it's called that God only knows. I bet it's from Alaska just as much as Queen Elizabeth is from Kazakhstan. Anyway, they started pouring out straight shots of vodka for everybody. There was NO WAY I was going to go anyway near the stuff. But of course, my ego got challenged and I had to drink it. It can't of been that bad, because soon I completely fucked my beers off and was pouring my self out straight voddys one after another. What a machine.

Me and my viking friend would start drinking about 5.30pm. By dinnertime at 6.30-7.00, I was well on my way. We'd nail some grub. Head back to volunteers and continue the pre-pub drinking. By the time the pub opened, I was already a dribbling mess who took 30 minutes to complete one sentence. Most of what happened after that is a blur. Like New Year's Eve for example. All I can remember from NYE was tearing into a random mountain of sushi. That's it. That was my night as far as my brain can tell me! Mind you, it was bloody good sushi.

By January, me and Alaska knew each other pretty well. Everything was happening so fast. At first I thought it was disgusting and too aggressive. But once I got to know it, I was in love. I could neck this stuff like it was water. Until one cold night in the Israeli mountains...

I mentioned in another blog that I first found out about the Kibbutz because of a lad I went to school with called Ben. Over two months into the trip and we still hadn't met. Both of us were just too busy living the kibbutz life. A life that sucked me in so much I completely forget there's a world beyond those pine coated mountains. So after a natter on Facebook we arrange a meeting. Long story short, there was a cock-up in communication and he turns up unexpected. I was going to have a quite night and had no alcohol. Catastrophe.

After much brainstorming we decide to phone up a shop in the nearby Arab village of Jish. These boys sorted us out big time. We phone, they deliver alcohol. Heaven. We go all out and buy six litres of vodka, no mixer needed by this stage. By this stage I didn't have a pot to piss in. So I had to use the ol' English 'gift of the gab' to get money off people so I could fulfill my alcoholic needs. Eventually the cargo arrived, hallelujah. Let the festivities begin!

For some reason, Ben decided doing a single shot of vodka just wasn't quite man enough. So we had to drink it by the double. What an amazing idea. So amazing I passed out at 10.30pm whilst everyone else carried on partying in my room. I woke up in the morning with a really wet pillow and a feeling on my head like someone had been trying to jab a sharp screwdriver into it over and over. "WHAT THE F*CK!? WHY'S MY PILLOW SO WET?!" I was later to find out, that whilst I had passed out, some of my fellow volunteers thought it would be quite rude of themselves not to f*ck me up in my drunken state. This is what happened to me:

What a mong! I knew right away who was responsible for this. A couple of weeks before this, me and a mate may have poured a huge cooler box of melted ice over a sleeping Aussie. We may also of chased him around the volunteer block with broomsticks, kicking down every door he tried to hide behind, until he eventually had to sneak into someone else's room and sleep there. A few days after this, I recall possibly drawing penis' all over his face the night before he had to go to work, he didn't see the one I put behind his ear and went to work oblivious to it. So perhaps I completely deserved what happened to me and should of called it quits...never.

It was about 8am and I was still completely wasted. I had drunk a litre and a half of straight vodka to myself in a matter of hours, I was in a bad way. The moment I woke up to this monstrosity, I jumped out of bed like a soldier to the call of action. Still in my boxer shorts, I march straight out of my room to hunt down my prey. Luckily I know he's in the room opposite to ours. BAM!!! I storm in there like a madman and head straight for his bed. By the time he knows what's going on I've dragged his bed all the way to the double door and proceed to mercilessly strike him with a broomstick (my favoured choice of weapon by this point). Now all I can hear is that familiar loud whiney Aussie accent:

"F*CK OFF GOYMER!!! WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING YOU PRICK?!!?!"

"WHY'S MY F*CKING PILLOW WET?!?! AY?! NOT SO FUNNY NOW IS IT!!!"

I was still absolutely wankered. I finished it all off by launching a telephone at his head. Then I stumbled back to bed and went to sleep.  Somehow I even managed to scar his leg with the broom. I would be lying if I said I'm not proud of that. That was definitely the drunkest I've ever been. I passed out at 10.30pm. I didn't even know that was scientifically possible. One girl even managed to draw a penis on my forehead whilst I was AWAKE. I had no idea it had happened. From the pictures, it appears they used their brains and cunning to perform this operation by sticking a pretty Swedish girl in front of me. It just so happened she had a lovely pair of...shoes on her. I was admiring her shoes so much that I didn't even notice someone was drawing on my head!

I also found out what the excruciating pain in my head was. Apparently I ran into a door and almost knocked myself out. Pretty much sums up my night. This was the end of the road for me and Alaska. After that night, just the smell of it made me gag. Even just seeing somebody pouring themselves a drink could turn my stomach after this point. It wasn't nice vodka by any means. I think the ingredients must be cats piss, battery acid with an essence of baby turd. It is disgusting. But f*ck me it done the job!

F*ck me, I was hoping to fit a lot more into my blog today. This was supposed to include another topic. But I think that's enough for now. Thanks a lot and up the Gunners!

ישראל (Israel)- Pt IV: Apple packing, Alaska Vodka and Christmas in Israel

Kibbutz life is THE life. It's just so easy. My average day on the kibbutz would be:

-Wake up at 6 (later if I was hungover)
-Head over to the apple factory (about a 2 minute walk)
-Work until 4pm
-Go to the shop buy booze and fags
-Get wasted
-Wake up at 6 and do it all again

Apple packing was pretty mind numbing, as you could imagine. You had to stand there all day and pack apples into boxes that came out on a conveyor belt. It didn't exactly make you burst with a sense of self-achievement. But luckily I have the brain of a squirrel, so I didn't find it hard to just switch my mind off and crack on with it. You could work with somebody else if you wanted to, so you could work and natter away like two old women. This was okay, but it could also make such a dull job even duller if you got stuck with somebody you didn't particularly want to talk to. One person sticks in my head the most; Ora.

Ora was an Ethiopian Jew who lived and worked on the kibbutz and boy did she know how to talk. The problem was though, this girl is a few sandwiches short of a picnic, she was completely doollaly! She asked the same questions EVERYTIME. And when you answered the question, she would ask you again two minutes later the EXACT same question. There was definitely a few screws loose in that head. Here's a conversation that actually happened:
Ora- "Sam, how you say 'one' in your language?"
Me (slightly confused)- "er...one(?)"
Ora- "How you say "two"?"
Me- "Two"
Ora- "Ah like English!"
Me (me completely spun out)- "What? Of course. I speak English, I am from England we speak English in England"
Ora- "No, you lie. English from America"
Me (getting pretty pissed)- "English from Amer- seriously?! Think about it; ENGland-ENGlish"

She wasn't having any of it. So I just left it at that and let the special needs child believe English comes from America. Just like Spanish comes from China and Russian comes from Uganda. I would tried my best to avoid her, but she always managed to hunt me down.

We got a decent amount of breaks. Two forty minute breaks and a 15 minute tea break in-between. For breakfast and lunch we would all go to the dining hall. As I told you in previous blogs, a kibbutz is based on communism, it's all about sharing. So everyone has the chance to eat in the communal dining room where there is as much food as you want. You get sick of it after a while, because a lot of it is the same. But looking back, it was awesome really. Because you didn't have to cook any of it and could eat and drink as much as you like. You never go hungry on a kibbutz.

Israeli's like to eat a lot of salad for breakfast. Not my ideal meal to start the day, maybe this has something to do with coming from a country where our national breakfast is fried egg, bacon, sausages, baked beans etc. I suppose it's a very good thing to start your day on rabbit food. But I usually just got two pieces of toast and put a mountain of scrambled egg on top and drowned it in Tommy K, God bless the Queen. No matter where you come from and how good a time you are having abroad. You will miss the cuisine of your motherland. I would of done some regrettable things for a sausage roll or a Sunday roast dinner.

Contrary to what most people think, I actually ate pork during my time in Bar'am. The majority of Jews on the kibbutz were far from religious and may I say, the pork was some of the best I've ever had. I believe they are farmed by Arab Christians. I imagine there's not a massive demand for pork in a region dominated by Jews and Muslims; so the farmers can take their time in raising the pig. Thus some top notch pork for everyone. I never got a pork pie or a bag of pork scratchings though much to my dismay. I did get a pig leg on Christmas day though (yes A LEG). The kibbutz members (people who live there permanently) were kind enough to cook the volunteers a WHOLE pig for Christmas. It was delicious. Here's a picture of me and the pig limb:

I celebrated Christmas, New Years Eve AND my birthday in Bar'am. I wish I could remember more about them. My birthday was about ten days after the day I first arrived at the kibbutz. Within these ten days I had well established myself as one of the local piss-heads. Thus my friends came up with the idea of 'Power Hour' on my birthday. For those that don't know, this is when you take a shot of beer every minute for one hour. Sounds simple enough. Beers not that strong after all. Wrong. Because when you do this, it works out that your drinking one can every ten minutes.

We all gathered in the party room. There was about eight or nine of us taking part. People were coming in and out to  I was doing pretty well. But after about 40 minutes I started to feel really bloated. I had so much gas in me that one burp could supply the plants of the rainforest with carbon dioxide for a decade. At the 54th minute someone pulled out. Why pull out this late?! There's literally six more shots to go. Two shots later this gas was getting too much and I really needed to unleash this bad boy. I got a lot more than I bargained for. I yacked up everywhere, proper projectile vomit just shout out in a straight line with the speed of a thousand locomotive trains. Bollocks. Everyone was in fits of laughter, tears of joy were gushing out of their eyes...except for one person. It turned out a civilian had got caught in the crossfire. I looked across the room and there was a Swedish girl who did not look impressed AT ALL. Funnily enough she didn't stick around.

I wish I could tell you what happened after that. I remember waltzing around volunteers with my shirt off saying 

"Fuck it, it's my birthday, I can do what I want"

I still stand by that statement. After this we all headed to the pub and that's all I remember. My birthday wasn't anything special though, it was equally special with every party and pub night during my first months in Bar'am. I got such bad blackouts from what happened though. I was a barman in England for over two years and my boss was quite laid back with us drinking on the job. So I was pretty experienced when it came to being wasted. But I have never been as drunk as I was at the kibbutz. Maybe it was the environment, maybe it was the mountain air or maybe it was the straight, cheap vodka I was drinking. I really don't know.

When Alex was there, he would make it his mission to get everybody drunk. Our only way of getting spirits was hitch hiking to the nearest village; which was an Arab village called Jish. There really wasn't much going on here, but it was the closest place with an ATM and cheap spirits. Our main tipple on the vodka front was some vodka called 'Alaska'. Just the thought of it now honestly makes me gag, you will find out why another day. It's 25 shekels for a litre, which is about a fiver in UK currency. We would buy a couple of bottles of these and a few cases of a lager called 'Dos Equis' which means something like 'Two X'. I can't remember the exact price of these, but they weren't too expensive. Especially as we would all chip in, but even if we didn't though, Alex would buy it anyway and sort everyone out. He actually went through all the effort to make punch in a big cool box for everybody and then drank beer himself because he doesn't even like punch. Either he's a date rapist or a very generous man, I like to think the latter!

After my birthday the next party that stands out in my mind the most is Christmas. Because people from Europe (the UK is NOT Europe in my eyes) are retarded, they celebrate Christmas on the 24th of December. After a vote and all that, Raviv (leader of the volunteers) decided we would celebrate Christmas on the 24th. They proper sorted us out. We had a massive feast and alcohol free of charge. Me and Alex were working on the bar for this day. I remember getting to about 3am and losing the ability to speak. So I just stopped working completely and got an English girl to take my place. Such a messy night, I can't remember what time I went to bed, but I had to be awake at something stupid like 7am for the trip Raviv was taking us on. 

This was another great thing about this particular kibbutz, they would arrange trips for us all, completely free of charge. On the REAL Christmas day (25th), we all went paintballing in the Golan Heights, which we was absolutely dreading still feeling half pissed/ half dead. To be fair the paintballing completely took my mind off being hungover. I can't remember which team won, I do remember scarring my Aussie mate though. Amongst all the paint and carnage that is paintballing, I saw a lone ranger charging towards us in slow motion. There really should of been the 'Where Eagles Dare' theme tune playing at this moment. There's a thin line between bravery and stupidity, which was he exactly? Well i'll let you be the judge of that when he ended up on the floor directly to my right shouting

"ARGH! FUCK OFF!!! STOP SHOOTING I'M DOWN!!! "

About three people shot him, but my shots had somehow managed to cut him and scar him. How exactly a paintball done that I don't know. But the vision of that whining convict begging for mercy really made me feel like a prison guard at Botany Bay. It was awesome.

After the adrenaline rush of paintballing wore off, I remembered just how hungover I was. It was absolutely hideous. Yet the trip had only just begun, after this we set off for a trip to some natural hot springs. As much it smelt of eggs, it was quality. Natural hot springs are just what you need for a hangover, it felt so therapeutic, so therapeutic that I had to use a word I hate SO much to describe it as therapeutic (aarrrgh! Enough of that word). The only thing that put me off was all the fat, hairy Arabs I was swimming with. I have quite a hairy chest, but at least that's where it stops. Arab men have my chest hair all over their body, if they all shaved off their body hair and put it together they could make enough duvets for orphans all over the world. 

They also bought us all a meal at a Thai restaurant which was very nice. One of my biggest regrets was that I missed out on TWO kibbutz trips because I was so wasted and didn't wake up. This is probably because at this stage I was always the last man standing every pub night. True story. But I was to lose this title to 'The Colombians' some months later. You will hear about them another time, these lads deserve a whole web page to themselves. On that note. I'm done for today. Thanks again :)