To introduce ourselves to the Beit She'an community, Roi wanted us to make a short video. We decided to make it in the style of the Brady Bunch, and rewrote all the lyrics. So that you can all appreciate the subtle musical genius and hard work involved, here is the first stanza:

Here's a story, about a man named Roi

Who adopted six lovely American Jews

They all lived in a home in Beit Shean

Six mountain bikes they used

We went on to describe each member of the house, including Avram (who hadn't even arrived yet). When he finally arrived from his transcontinental flight, he barely had time to put down his bags before we threw him in front of a camera for his part of the video. Poor guy. Each of us danced in front of the camera in turn, and then we photoshopped in awkward pictures of us from the first week. Put kindly, it wasn't our proudest work. But we put it on youtube anyway, thinking it would be buried under all the Belieber videos and we would never have to think of it again. But lo and behold, a few hours later it had 100 views! Which is pretty much the size of Beit She'an. When we go walking down the street people stop us to sing the song in their thick Israeli accents. I am so embarrassed. I think we may never live it down. 

Rosh Hashanah has ended, and I feel a strange mixture of relief, disappointment, and manic food addiction. Every meal was like Thanksgiving on steroids, but much worse because no one asks you before adding food to your plate, and if you try to refuse it they turn up the Jewish guilt. On the eve of Rosh Hashanah I found out that the host family I was paired with eats only meat. There was a huge range of options, from cow tongue to goat heart to turkey testicles to four kinds of steak and kebabs, but zero things of the more vetetative variety. I was so overwhelmed that I started tagging on with Sarah, whos host family was less hostile towards the color green. That family is so sweet. They have three beautiful children who are adorable and eager to play with us. They love to swim in the hot springs, jump on their trampoline, and terrorize their 2 month old puppy. The Americans love to participate in the first two activities, but cringe at the third. It's a terrible cycle because we get so upset that it encourages them to continue to up the ante. I have seen a child drop this tiny shivering puppy over and over from a height of 4 feet. They are so naughty it is unbearable. It is really good to hang out with them so often because they speak very little English. Hila (the naughtiest, which is great because her name means halo) and I played a game where we pretended to be different things under water. I learned the words for pirate, ninja, robot, hair, cucumber, tomato, and tea party. We all went to the hot springs yesterday, which by the way are beautiful beyond belief. The bright blue sky and sea-green water are sliced by dusty desert mountains. The contrast in this part of the world is stunning. Everywhere in the area (which is called emek hamayanot, or the valley of streams) is lush with bright green trees bearing dates, pomegranates, carob beans, and lemons, and criss-crossed with hot springs, and bordering this expanse are the Israeli and Jordanian desert mountains. It's an amazing view.

The best part of Rosh Hashanah is the food. It is also the worst part. And actually the only part. The families take turns having meals at each others houses, and because every family has parents, grandparents, and 4 brothers and sisters on both sides of the family, this means you need to eat a lot of meals so as not to leave anyone out. The Israeli's have somehow managed to drag this 2-day holiday into a 17-meal affair. That wouldn't be so bad, except that every woman here is an unbelievable cook. No dinner was complete without 400 dishes dripping with honey, oil, and saffron. Each dish is so incredible that I can't help but stuff my face. By the third meal I was so stuffed that even the mere mention of food sent me groaning, and yet when confronted with all those tiny plastic plates piled high with magical foods of every color, (a fancy table in Israel by the way is set with plastic cups, plastic dishes, plastic chairs, and TWO plastic forks instead of one) I find myself compelled to create more suffering by trying everything I can reach. And every time we leave the house, the host mother sends us home with boxes of handmade cookies and chocolates of every kind, as well as any other thing she can find. Today we got thumbprint cookies, crescent cookies, and a toaster. We tried to refuse it and she scolded us sharply, saying "You never say no to me!" I am so thankful to be relieved of the duty of constant eating. And yet so sad! 

Tomorrow we begin our teaching seminars. I am looking forward to busier, more structured days, and more learning.