Beit She'an's sister city is Cleveland, and apparently this means total and utter devotion to a city who's population may have never heard of them. The town hall is filled with dramatic pictures of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame at sunrise, or main streets lit up at night. Every time I meet an Israeli, upon hearing my American accent the first thing they ask is, "Cleveland?" My host mother loves to mention that a shirt she is wearing, or a recipe for a dish we are eating, was acquired in Cleveland, as if she is casually dropping the fact that she was invited to tea with the Queen. One of our housemates is actually from Cleveland, and you'd think he was a god the way people react. No one here has heard of San Francisco, or knows the difference between Washington DC and Washington State. Every day someone tells me a fact about Cleveland. Did you know they have 80,000 Jews? Did you know they eat cous cous there? Did you know the women there wear lacy flats? One girl from the town got a grant to study there for a year, and she came back with stories that she would tell to hushed audiences that were starstruck with her worldliness. Never in my life would I have guessed to know so much about such a place. 

Today was the first of many teaching seminars around the country. We had to drive a long way there and back. The bus driver, in casual Israeli fashion, pulled into a gas station halfway home and kicked us out of the bus with an explanation in rapid hebrew that none of us understood. All of us looked around in a panic, realizing that he was planning to drive away without us and wondering how we were ever going to get home, when suddenly another bus drove up and the people got out of that van and into our van. We slowly put it together that they were swapping rides because our driver wanted to end his night closer to his final destination. It seems to me like the kind of detail a driver should warn his passengers about ahead of time, but I guess it is different here. 

Another story about the land of not-exactly. Roi took us to the hot springs yesterday, and what a baligan! The original plan was that the 6 of us would bike out to meet Kevin, who was already there. Roi however gave us no direction about where we were going and biked like a maniac on the shoulderless highway. As we went, each bike slowly began to fall apart. Sarah's gears went wrong, and Dan's chain broke, and Avram and I ended up racing ahead so that he could bring my bike back and save Dan from walking the whole way. Once we arrived at the hot springs, Roi told us that in fact he had taken us to the wrong one and that, even though we were six and Kevin was one, we had to go meet him instead of the other way around. So back on the highway we went, swerving like maniacs because we are all following Roi who changes his mind about turns after he misses them and then doubles back without warning. We arrive at the second hot spring, and Roi is biking around on the grass shouting KEVIN KEVIN in this totally crowded place while the lifeguard runs after him telling him that the grass is off limits. It is not until Roi is absolutely certain that we have found Kevin are we allowed to drop our bikes and enjoy ourselves. Clearly, a simple call would not suffice.

Last night was our first Havdalah in Beit She'an, and it was a lot of fun. We went out onto our rooftop, and sang in the new week with fresh spices and wine. We brought up some speakers and a phone, and blasted party music and danced next to the solar panels. By the time we were done we had an audience of stunned Israelis laughing and clapping. What a way to start the week! I have a good feeling about it. Tomorrow we see our schools for the first time. I am excited to learn more about the schools and my job.