Top 10 Reasons Why The IDF is Like Harry Potter

Ever since I drafted on Monday, I've been thinking that there was something strange about this whole thing that I couldn't exactly place. Something about the scenery maybe, or perhaps the food, or maybe even the people felt oddly familiar. I thought about it during meals and classes and ח formations, but I just couldn't remember when I had been here before. In the end, it came to me in a dream. Last night, in the very middle of the night, I woke with a start and realized that my world right now is undeniably similar to the wizarding world of Harry Potter. So here are the top 10 reasons why I may as well be at Hogwarts.

1. I'm living in a place that very much exists, but must remain a mystery to even those who live next door, simply because they are not one of us.

2. Our uniforms are preppy-chic, and though we don't wear a tie, we do have stylish sweaters that we wear casually over button down shirts.

3. When it rains, my base looks like Hogsmead once Voldemort returns. The roads are empty, the windows boarded up, and people in dark clothing huddle together for protection.

4. We are divided into house-like pluga'ot, each one proudly symbolized by an animal and two colors. Personally, my plugah has a regal-looking Falcon as our mascot, and our colors are those of Hufflepuff.

5. Our division into these sections seems completely arbitrary, but it quickly become clear that we belong where we are, and we were put here for a reason.

6. Those who don't get in trouble are seen as "brown-nosers" and are looked down upon. Hermione obviously would've been mocked by these feisty Israeli girls.

7. When people speak too quickly to me, they may as well be speaking Latin for all I understand. And in response, I fall into this trance that, when they realize I don't understand, makes people magically stop yelling at me.

8. Put them in a uniform, and everyone here instantly becomes A-list movie star level attractive. No matter how statistically impossible it may be, literally everyone here could be an actor/actress.

9. The food here tastes like the weird flavors of Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I distinctly remember one of my meals tasting like grass, and another like, alas, earwax.

10. We are given an extremely powerful tool with close to no lessons on how to use it and without any proof that we are fit to carry such a weapon. People just seem to give us the benefit of the doubt that we can be equipped with a wand and/or a gun and everything will be OK.

Of course, there is a lot more to share about my first week in the army, but between lessons on how to combat chemical warfare and being yelled at incessantly, I hardly have the time to write a full-blown blog entry. Luckily, my first Shabbat is an open one, so I'll be home on kibbutz and hopefully have the time to properly explain what's been happening this week and maybe include pictures. Until then, you have my full permission to tell everyone you know that your friend/daughter/sister/colleague's daughter is attending Hogwarts.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Imagine you're driving alone at night along a deserted highway. The streetlights cast suspicious shadows on the road and you haven't seen another car for miles. All of the sudden, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a creature off to the side. You look closer, and you see that the hooded figure is carrying a duffel bag roughly the size of a human being. With one hand, he is carelessly dangling a cigarette from between two fingers. His other hand is extended towards the street, his thumb raised. Imagine that you've decided to ignore the fact that the title of this blog post is probably copy-righted. The pure lawlessness of the situation has your gut instincts screaming danger, and with your mother's voice in your head warning you never to talk to strangers, you drive quickly by and inform the local police of the escaped murderer plaguing your highways.

Now imagine you're in Israel. You see the very same scene, except instead of his thumb extended towards the road, it's his pointer finger. Perhaps the streetlights begin to flicker, making the suspicious shadows dance in the darkness. Maybe you're even in the middle of the desert, and your cellphone has dangerously low reception. It's only reasonable that you should pull up beside the cloaked figure and offer him a ride.

One of the biggest culture shocks when I arrived in Israel was the hitchhiking. As someone without a car, I could totally understand the reasons why someone would hitchhike - after all, sometimes you just need a ride. But the practicality of it absolutely defied my upbringing. I had always been under the impression that if you pick up a hitchhiker in America, he's going to be an axe-murderer. And if you are the hitchhiker, there's no question that you're going to picked up by an axe-murderer.

But hitchhiking in Israel is actually just a perfect example of the larger Israeli society. First of all, they replace the word "hitchhike" with the more Yiddush-sounding word, "tremp." And second of all, it proves how Israel is like one big, dysfunctional family. The political parties bicker like siblings, the drivers ignore traffic signs like rebellious teenagers ignore parents, and everyone is always willing to comment on what you're doing, like a grandma who just wants to know why you aren't married yet. People are always shocked when they come to Israel and they get pushed aside by an old man trying to get on a bus or yelled at by a stranger, but it's because Israelis treat everybody like an annoying brother or sister. And if you saw your brother or sister on the side of the road, lugging a duffel bag roughly the size of a human being, you would obviously offer a hand. Of course, you still need to take safety precautions: every family has its wackos. But for the most part, this kinship with fellow Israelis is what makes this country feel like a homeland.

The reason I write this ode to tremping is because in two days, I won't be allowed to tremp anymore. There's a law in Israel that states that soldiers are forbidden from tremping because of the threat of kidnappers, and in two days, I too will be a soldier. I suppose I could have written this entire blog entry about the pit in my stomach that churns with every passing minute, or the pain in my back from buying and carrying so many pairs of socks in preparation for my draft, or even the embarrassed shrug that I give when I admit that I have zero idea what my job in the army actually does, but I figure that in the spirit of the army, I should learn to stifle my complaints and just trust that I'll be OK.

I also have to warn you, dear dedicated readers (only a fraction of whom acquiesce to my pleas to comment on my blog), that I can't promise any regularity in my blog posts to come. I've noticed with my friends who have already drafted that there is very little certainty when it comes to the army. It seems as though they aren't sure of anything until it is actually happening. The next two years very well may be a blur of constant confusion, but I'll try to transcribe that confusion as often as possible for your benefit. The next time I post, it will be as a soldier.

Have a happy last night of Hannukah!

In Case My Proud Jewish Parents Haven't Sent This To You Yet...

I know my dear mom and dad sent this link to pretty much anyone who has ever had the pleasure of meeting them, but just in case you haven't seen it, here is the link to an article I wrote that was published in The Jewish Exponent last week. Enjoy!

http://www.jewishexponent.com/worrying-about-war-heading-for-the-idf