22/10/99

The Traditional Post-Army Jaunt

After serving their country, Israelis flock to Nepal. Where do the Nepalese go?

Dear Mamma,

    So you see, I did it: I finished the army, and now I'm trekking.
    I can see why all the kids from Nepal come to Israel after the army. It's so different, not like back home. For example, there aren't any mountains. Can you believe it! It's really scary hiking down, down, down; the air is so thick.
    I know you're worried. You think it's dangerous here, because it's so low. Last week I went to the Ramon Crater. I had to, Mamma, because like they say, "It is there." I went all the way down, and once I got there, I looked all the way up, and I felt like I was back in Nepal.
    You remember when I was a kid, and you took me to Kechana Kalan? You explained it's the lowest place in the country, but I always thought it was the lowest place in the world. Well, let me tell you: 70 meters above sea level is not low in this country.
    Funny thing is, when people move to Israel, it's called "aliya," or "going up."
    You were afraid I would get involved in some strange Western religion. Well, I haven't grown a beard yet (ha, ha), but learning an exotic culture is all part of a trip like this. All the Nepalese are doing it, and very few come back Jewish. I hooked up with some post-army kids and we entered a yeshiva. It's fantastic -- so unrelaxing! They don't just sit in a cloud and think, they sway back and forth and argue. What would our priest say about that?!
    A yeshiva is not on some remote mountaintop, it's in the middle of everything. This whole, weird country is like that: there's nowhere to go and contemplate in silence, because even some of the desert is populated. And there's none of that silly harmoniousness like back home. Nobody agrees with anybody, so it's really noisy everywhere you go. I love it!
    It's hard to get used to the language. The rabbi in the yeshiva, like every Israeli, talks with his hands. Honest!
    It's so strange: they laugh and shout and say "yalla" all the time (I'm still not sure what that means), they scream at each other ... even when they eat and study. My head spins from it all. Sometimes I miss the silence.
    The food is odd. No yak. (But lots of people named Yakov.) They eat something called felafel, which looks like yak droppings, especially when it's fresh and warm and steaming. Yech!
    There's a dietetic system here called "kosher," and while we're in this yeshiva, we have to do it too. It was explained to us on our first day. If I understood correctly, they don't mix pork and milk. When they eat fish, it's only the fins and scales. They love eating birds' wings, but they only eat birds that can't fly (maybe that's why the dodo is extinct). And get this: they won't eat any animal without chewing its cud first! We always knew the Jews were bizarre, and we were right.
    Anyway, I've become a vegetarian.
    I asked if it's true that they kill Christian children for their blood. I think they were a bit offended by the question. They said no. But if that's true, why aren't there any Christian children in Israel?
    Some of my fellow Nepalese are doing this Jewish thing whole hog. They're really into it. My old classmate Man is here. He shaved his head like a monk and grew Slinky-style sideburns. He looks ridiculous. 
    You remember Mrs. Tamang, the funny lady next door when we lived in Bhaktapur? Well, guess what. I think she was Jewish. She would never touch a man yet she had 14 children. I never knew how she did it, but whatever it was, the Jews are doing it too.
    I know you're very worried I'll come home with a Jewish wife, but believe me, you can relax. I haven't met one yet who could pull an ox. What good would she be? Come to think of it, I haven't met one yet, period. There aren't any in the yeshiva.
    Last Friday night, I went to a Jew's house for a special meal called a "Shabbos." It's an old tradition in which they eat the jelly of the foot of a calf (bet you never knew there was jelly there!) and a melted chicken, which they say is healthy (not for the chicken, though), and something they call gevalte fish. See how much I've learned about Judaism?
    I'm making a few mistakes, though. After the Shabbos dessert (another nutty thing: they said if I want coffee and cream, I could drink the coffee now and the cream six hours later. Like, what's the point?), I had to go to the bathroom. It's not really worth mentioning, except that I did a dreadful thing. I think I broke one of their 10 Commandments when I turned off the bathroom light. Boy oh boy, were they mad at me! It was even worse when I offered to turn it back on. They told me it was forbidden to make fire until the Shabbos was finished. I explained that these were electric lightbulbs. And they said the most unbelievable thing: that I didn't understand!!!
    I asked some of the yeshiva Jews about the army in Israel. They explained that they were the soldiers, protecting the nation by studying. I said, what do you study, military tactics? They said no, at the moment we're studying how to make sure there's no bugs in a cauliflower. I said I didn't see how that could protect their country from invasion, and they said I didn't understand.
    They're right. I don't.
    I get the feeling these Jews think we Sherpas are very, very stupid.
    I've been studying at the yeshiva for almost three months, and by now I think I know just about everything. I'm ready to resume trekking.
    I told a taxi driver about Everest, and he said that's nothing, you should see the Hermon, THAT'S a mountain. So I think I'll head for that first. You might interpret that as homesickness, and maybe you're right. I never thought I'd miss the monsoon clouds -- believe it or not, there aren't any here.
    Speaking of the weather, it's winter here. Well, they call it winter. Last Tuesday was the coldest day of the year, and I was sweating in a tee-shirt. I think it was 10 degrees or something; heck, I did guard duty at 40 below.
    I hope you understand my need to come here, to "do the Israel thing" like everyone else in the army. A guy needs adventure, excitement, even a bit of danger (you should see how they drive) before settling down to a boring life in Katmandu.
    As to what I'll do when I get back home, I'm thinking of opening an Israeli restaurant. What could be more exotic?! I might bring back a couple of Israeli waiters, to make it authentic. They're not what you'd call shy; Katmandu won't know what hit it!

    Namaste,

    Your loving son,

    (Rabbi) Lal.