Alternate Publishing Plan

Once in a while I click into the "Times of Israel" website. This is a news site which also has a large section devoted to blogs, some of which take a light hearted approach to describing life in Israel.
Since the site is open to this type of content, I think it would be possible for me to submit my  most well received blog post about a strawberry in a land of sabras. There were a few edits that my fellow students mentioned that could improve the piece, but I think in general the content and length would be appropriate as is.
The publication makes it easy to submit; they have an easy to find link in the top navigation to "Submit Content" whether it's a story, article, or photo. I am not certain if my article would best be suited to "opinion pieces and blogs" or "culture and lifestyle" ...
http://www.timesofisrael.com/contact/submit-content/

A New Direction

So far this semester I’ve been exploring a voice that writes about perspectives gained through past travel. I’ve learned to write more concisely. I’ve also learned to think about what I want an audience to take away, and so comes a shift in the blog. The new blog will incorporate photography and the setting will be my here and now.

Washington, DC in the summer is packed with tourists snapping shots of the landmarks and attractions. My blog will reflect the DC summer-time experience of a resident and trained photographer. I think a new name and “about” is in order, though this pseudonym will be closely linked to my “true” online presence.

That presence should be more focused and reflective of both my photography and writing skills. It needs to be brought up to date, which is why I chose a current perspective.

 I had considered reshaping the blog but continuing in Israel (Inside the Bubble: One Photographers Year in Tel Aviv). But that lens is a few years old and it’s fixed.

Creating fresh photography and writing about it is a challenge I can be passionate about and which will push involvement in the community.  For example, I contacted a local free program of courses called “Knowledge Commons DC” as I saw they needed volunteers to document their classes (which range from bookmaking and documentary sound recording to experimental drawing in the zoo). Unfortunately their summer classes are only held in June, but that’s just one idea of something I could incorporate into the blog.

The challenge will be making time to make photographs that can be backed up substantially with words and as usual, to narrow focus and develop tone.

Will the writing contain more personalized descriptions or will it develop into a reporter-like blog? Will it focus on describing the process and reasoning behind a photo and add in comments on technological developments? Will some mix of the two be appropriate?

I plan to figure these things out as the blog progresses and as I think more about what I hope to accomplish through my online presence.

Wikipedia: Glover-Archbold Community Garden

Outside of my topic but, I realized the wonderful gardens near my house have no wikipedia page of their own. I did not try to publish, but here is what I've put together:

Summary

The Glover-Archbold Community Garden is an approximately 3 acre plot of land in N.W. Washington D.C. which is divided into smaller plots used by local gardeners.  The land is leased from the National Park Service (NPS) and comes under the jurisdiction of Rock Creek Park.  

History

The Glover Archbold Community Garden was created during World War II. At the time American citizens were encouraged to grow their own vegetables, in what were known as Victory gardens.  Since then, local families have used the gardens to grow their own food. [1]

Garden Specifics

The Garden is located at 42^nd St and New Mexico Ave NW in the Glover Park neighborhood. It is is surrounded on three sides by Rock Creek Park.  The land is moderately hilly and open to full sun.[2]

The 2.7 acre Garden is divided into 150 25x25’ plots, making it the second largest community garden in Washington, D.C. [3]

Individual plots are enclosed with fencing to protect crops from deer.  Gardeners share a tool shed, compost heap and seating areas.  A large variety of vegetables and flowers are grown in the Garden, all of which are required to be grown organically.

Current Organization/Membership

The garden is run by the Glover Park Community Garden Association (GPCGA) which holds leadership elections each year.  Dino Kraniotis is currently Garden Manager and President of the GPCGA. The GPCGA and the NPS set rules for gardeners, who must apply for membership. (There is currently a waiting list of about 70 people.)[4]

Recent News

In the spring of 2012, there have been reports of missing daffodils, peonies, and hydrangeas from the gardens. It is believed to be the same person that has stolen from the garden for the past four years but has not been caught.  [5]

References

[1]WETA Neighborhoods, Premiere Date 6/30/2006

[2] Christopher Jones, “Glover Park Community Webpage Added” Glover Park website, Retrieved 6/23/12

[3] Community Garden Census, Fall 2010, published by the DC Field to Fork Network, p. 14

[4] “Glover Archbold Community Garden”  Field to Fork Network website, Retrieved 6/23/12

[5] The Washington Post, published 6/12/2012, Adrian Higgins, “Beware the D.C. Garden Thief, Still at Large”

How to Make an "Israeli Salad"

It is really called that; image search the name and you will find something very specific. I’m grateful to this salad for making it ok to throw out the boring lettuce filler and just giving us the good stuff.

This refreshing salad is often eaten with breakfast (not sausage and pancakes! But soft sour cheese, fresh pita, and egg.) It can also be put inside any pita sandwich. And it goes great with a dinner of chicken schnitzel, or really, anything.

First assemble the necessary ingredients.

You will need:

·         1 ripe tomato

·         1 cucumber (or two of the great crispy small ones)

·         Half an onion, red or yellow

·         1 tablespoon chopped parsley

·         1 teaspoon olive oil

·         2 teaspoons lemon juice

·         Salt and pepper to taste

Next, dice the vegetables into small pieces. Try to make them consistent sizes. Drop them in a lidded container. (You’ll need the lid later.)

Chop the parsley and toss into the container.

Now drizzle the lemon juice, olive oil, atop the vegetables.

Sprinkle the salt and pepper on top of everything.

Close the lid on the container with all of your salad ingredients inside.

Give the whole thing a good shake! You want the parsley and the dressing to become interspersed with the vegetables, making your salad juicy.

Open up the container and enjoy the citrusy fresh smell and the lovely interplay of colors

Transfer to a serving dish (or not), eat and enjoy!

Once you master this (very difficult) salad, feel free to add in a few variations. Colorful bell peppers, feta cheese, chopped pickles, garlic, or mint. Your creation will still be considered an Israeli salad. 

"If you were a fruit...what would you be?"

When I was a kid in WV, my school mates and I liked to ask each other this important question of identity. My answer was always “a strawberry!”  Small and sweet, cute and bright!  I never once heard someone call themselves a “prickly pear,” which is a term often used to describe native born Israelis.  The Hebrew word is “sabra.” The sabra fruit has a sweet soft interior, if you can get past the tough and prickly hide. 

The trick is getting past it. American tourists usually gasp “Israelis are so rude!” at some point during their visit. They had to learn the hard way that standing politely in line to buy tomatos at the shuk was not going to get them anything but a looong wait. They are shocked to find that the customer is  NOT always right. They’re bewildered when asking “how are you” results in a long diatribe of misery - they have to adjust their ideas on boundaries.  And they have to deal with impatience, line-cutters, and really aggressive driving.

Then there was me, the unassuming strawberry who always picked her words carefully so as not to offend or create confrontation. More than once I assumed annoyance in the simple question, “Are we leaving now?” and responded indignantly.  I had to get used to raised voices.

Before I knew Hebrew, I couldn’t gauge the severity of an exchange by the verbiage used. I just heard  exasperation.  It happened often with Z and his mother. But soon after (or between) a shouting match, they’d be laughing or mom would be asking how much sugar to put in his tea.  For mom and son, rudeness was a form of affection.

That’s not uncommon in Mediterranean culture. Ever seen Moonstruck or My Big Fat Greek Wedding? You’ll recognize the drama that goes on in these deeply loyal families. And I think that’s where the sabra’s softness comes in.

Despite a NY cut-the-crap attitude, a sense of family unites the people in this tiny country; and they won’t hesitate to treat a stranger as family with an invitation for a meal.  Once at the table, the stranger will begin to see that for all the bluster, Israelis have a sensitive side. So many times I was asked, “So what do you think of Israel? Do you like it here? It’s beautiful, right?” in a casual tone that ached for a positive response.  But no matter what you respond, you’ll be invited back again. That’s how easy it is to make a friend for life.

For Z’s part, when he arrived in the U.S. he was caught off guard by people smiling "good morning!" on the sidewalk. After the weirdness wore off, he enjoyed the friendliness. But he missed the random friends and family that would show up uninvited on the doorstep on a Saturday and linger for hours over coffee and sunflower seeds. Three years later, he loves America but the sense of isolation remains. He has moments of longing for his “tribe.”

As for me, I still don’t know how to let it all hang out; but I realized I’d rather forgo a random hello in the street for the knowledge that someone I met yesterday would be there in an instant for me tomorrow.

I’ll never be a sabra, I'm a strawberry all the way. But these days I'm a bit more difficult to bruise.

Playing with Online Presence

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West (Virginia) Meets (Middle) East

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Visions in the Capital

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Playing Devil's Advocate

When writing about Israel, I think it’s important to show some awareness of the controversy that surrounds the country, even when the blog focus is not political (if that’s even possible when it comes to Israel.)

Various entities have sought to boycott Israel in protest of their policies toward the Palestinians. While I do not support all of Israel’s actions, and I “get” the opposition (former Al-Jazeera employee here) I developed a distaste for the boycott movements. They often seemed to be a one sided push for a cause-du-jour, without an accompanying appreciation for the full scope of the situation.  

There's a chance I'm biased due to my Israeli partner in life. All I know is that I've heard endless amounts of arguments from both sides, and each make sense in their own way. Here I shall take on the role of boycott supporter:

I am calling for a blanket boycott of Israel. By that I mean popular musical acts should not perform there, and super markets should not sell products that are manufactured in Israel. This would also include an academic boycott of Israeli universities, scholars, and cultural institutions.

Israeli policies in the occupied West Bank and towards the Gaza Strip harm Palestinians, whose movements and access to the outside world are limited. Disproportionate use of force by the Israelis against their neighbors is not acceptable, nor is the continued expansion of Jewish settlements on occupied land. The “Separation Wall” is offensive and racist and should be torn down.  Until Israel shows a real commitment towards respecting the Palestinians and honoring their right to an independent state, I call for this boycott.

Many young Israelis are offended when the likes of Elvis Costello and Roger Waters boycott their country. They cite Israel’s contributions to the larger world in the form of scientific and technical innovation and discovery, and their expert medical aid in areas of natural disaster. My response is that all of this educated intelligence and goodwill should first be put towards addressing the injustices perpetrated by their own government. So many rights don’t correct a big wrong.

Israelis will protest that they have been wronged, that they are continually under siege despite efforts for peace (the treaty with Egypt, returning the Gaza Strip to Palestinian control). But the fact is that they still have the upper hand and they still control the West Bank. Only when they are on equal ground (figuratively and literally!) with the Palestinians should the boycott be lifted.

This boycott will also remind Israel that they are not immune to international law. The International Court of Justice ruled in 2004 that the Separation Wall was illegal.  Israelis defend the wall with statistics that show suicide bombings have all but disappeared in their country since it was erected. However, changes in policy that addressed the root problem could have been just as effective and much less harmful to those on the other side. 

Some say it is hypocritical to single out tiny Israel for boycotts and abuse while other governments in the region commit atrocious human rights offenses against their own citizens. Israel claims to be the only democracy in the Middle East, and a bastion of Western values.

First, Israel may be tiny, but it has a tremendous effect on other countries’ foreign policy. As an American, I know that our nation has attracted the ire of many Arab countries for our one sided support of Israel. America also spends a disproportionate amount of foreign aid on little Israel. With such security and financial investments, I think we have a right to an opinion and a say in how Israel conducts itself.

The fact that Israel is a democracy only adds to the argument for a boycott. The citizens actually have a say in the policies of the government. A boycott is a non-violent way of pressuring the people to pressure their officials. As far as Western values, it is time for Israel to show a genuine commitment to those values and to lead the region by example. In the meantime, we shall boycott.

About

At the age of 9, Viva Green became an urban transplant into the wild, wonderful and unfamiliar soils of West Virginia. Family financial woes had forced the move.

At the age of 24, Viva found herself in another wild new place; Israel. This time a relationship had inspired her to pull up tender roots and become a transplant yet again.

In between these two moves, Viva developed a love for writing, art and travel. She earned a BFA in Photography, visited Europe and South America, and worked at an Arabic news station before landing in Israel.

Currently Viva lives in Washington, D.C., with her Israeli husband, works in health communications, and writes this travel & photo blog based on her experiences in Israel, from the perspective of a perpetual non-native. 

"Are you Crazy?"

I heard that a lot from my American compatriots when I announced I was moving to Israel. Another common line was “Just don’t get on any busses!”  My husband-to-be (whom I will refer to as “Z”) assured me that life in Tel Aviv was not scary at all, and that I would in fact be very safe.  I was 24 years old with a bug for travel (and hearts in my eyes!) and found it very easy to believe him. 
So who had the more valid reaction? The Americans, or the native?

The  violent and the tragic fill our TV and computer screens from morning to night.  A typical American vision of Israel is of a chaotic place where rockets and busses explode. This is what they have seen on the news.  And though it may not be on a daily, or even monthly basis, such things have happened (and still do, depending on the location).

 How accurate was Z’s feeling of not being in danger? Could this be a sort of blindness from staring into the sun too long? Or did he just know that in Israel, serious measures had been put in place to protect him? When Z first visited Washington, D.C. he was nervous. He eyed the long lines of tourists crowding around the museums (with no security in sight) and thought, “this doesn’t look good.” When he found out civilians can carry guns, he was shocked. He actually felt safer in his home town of Tel Aviv.

But Tel Aviv is known as a bubble.  Once inside, the rest of the country’s troubles seem a million miles away (all the more odd considering Israel’s tiny size.)  I fell under this drowsy sort of outlook myself. While on a short trip to W.V. in December 2008, a war broke out between Israel and Gaza. Rockets were landing within 20 miles of Tel Aviv. My exasperated father pointed out that was like someone shooting missiles at us from Winchester, VA (a town we drove to every day for work.) I admitted that would be a scary situation. And yet I was not afraid to fly back to Tel Aviv. 

For me, it took some getting used to the sight of green-clad soldiers with rifles slung across their backs munching a falafel pita on the sidewalk or sitting sleepily on the bus.  And what a pain to have to open my bag every time I entered Dizengof Center Mall or the Mega Supermarket. But quickly, the oddity of this way of life faded as an acceptance set in that this was just the reality that kept things in check.  I took the bus to work every day and the most panic I felt was when a driver tried to explain a fare change to me in Hebrew.

My conclusion? No, Israel wasn’t as scary as my friends had imagined. The idea of the total war zone where one risks their life every day is no more accurate than the picture some conjured that I’d be living in the middle of the desert riding on a camel.

But their fears shouldn’t be discounted. The volatility of the region is never far from an Israeli’s mind, even as they get up and go to work, shop and make dinner.  And still I felt safer strolling in Tel Aviv than I do in D.C., where I’m much more likely to be mugged. There, I knew someone was looking out as if their life depended on it. 

Hailing from West Virginia, I should have known there is always more to a place than the stereotypes suggest. But after my foray in Israel, I sometimes wonder how much of my own ideas about the rest of the world are skewed?

Argument by way of Background

Many people hear the word “home” and instantly think of the place where their deepest roots lie. This notion of home evaded me most of my life. Though I spent my earliest years in the Washington, D.C. area, by the time I was 8 my family had moved to small-town West Virginia. Suddenly I was surrounded by people with extended families who had lived in the area for generations. Differences in accents and activities were glaring. School was dismissed for a week during hunting season; my family had never owned a gun. Nearly everyone drove pick-up trucks, while we had a collection of aging Volvo’s in our yard. The house where I lived with my immediate family was like a Yankee island in the deep-South. My parents, native New Yorkers, enjoyed the general peace, quiet and breathing room, but their new abode certainly wasn’t “home” to them (and still isn't, some twenty years later.)

After college, I spent a year living in Israel; a place that a whole lot of people fervently call their home. My husband’s ancestors have lived continuously in the Middle East for thousands of years; no other place will truly be “home” for him. I heard more than one resident of the country say they knew they are home because only in that country could they identify as an individual first and Jewish second (rather than the other way around.) Naturally I could not relate to any of this; my family had arrived in the U.S. from Europe but a few generations ago and no particular faith bound me to any land. In Israel, the language was strange, the people seemed rough. A pale, shy American girl, I surely did not fit in. For the first time, I began to miss West Virginia. I missed the rolling country roads, the fireflies, and the delineation of the seasons. I discovered that after all the years of yearning to go somewhere more exciting, W.V. did have a special hold on my heart. Now, visits to the countryside of my childhood make my heart sing.

Today I once again reside in Washington, D.C. and while I love revisiting the places I knew as a little girl (and feel very much at home here!), a funny thing has happened.  I miss Israel. The hot streets slick with fallen olives and dates, the salty Mediterranean breeze, the warm people who became part of my family…

It seems that these days, there is more than one place I could call “home.” This blog is about the experiences that got me to that point; about differences in culture that can be opportunities to learn and connect; about how travel can remind you of what home really means.

I feel I should write about this because I’m brimming with passion for travel and with observations to share, from the viewpoint of someone who has gone far out of her comfort zone and come back rich with new perspectives. 

Hopes for the Coming Weeks

“So you’re going to be a writer when you grow up!” I heard this statement quite a few times as a child. Perhaps it was the fact that it was rarely framed as a question that caused me to react contrarily and pursue visual arts rather than jump into a writing career. (Expectations turned me off.)

However, I suspect the real reason was a nagging feeling that I didn’t enjoy writing. I did seem to have a knack for it, something that could surely have been developed, but I found it agonizing to get any piece of serious writing going. The stress of thinking what I wanted to say and how to say it was a constant block to getting started. Those first few sentences came out in a painful muddle. The rewriting would begin before I barely had anything on the page. Writing just seemed like something for which I lacked patience. (Interestingly, throughout childhood I kept dozens of journals, but didn’t consider that to be “real” writing; there was no pressure involved.)

It’s worth wondering where all that stress came from. I’m sure most writers feel it to some degree.  My problem was a combination of self-consciousness and perfectionism.  I became frustrated and a bit panicked when the first draft wasn’t gorgeous. This perfectionist attitude has hindered me in other creative endeavors as well; I couldn’t let anyone see what I was doing until I was an expert. Of course, no one becomes an expert in a bubble.

Through this class, I hope to reverse my feelings about writing. I don’t expect it to become easy, but I would like to learn to have patience for the process, to embrace the challenge, and to be able to do it with a thicker skin. This becomes even more important when writing for interactive media. It’s time to allow myself to be imperfect in front of others. I hope in the coming weeks to let go, learn, develop a voice, and above all, improve my writing. 

Viva's Biosketch

Viva Green was born in Alexandria, VA and lived the first 9 years of her life in northern Virginia. She exhibited an early interest in art and books, spending hours at the coffee table drawing hundreds of pictures and devouring every written material as soon as she learned to read. She also loved nature and spent long afternoons in the backyard reading to the trees. In 1991 she moved with her family to a small town in West Virginia, where she began to develop a talent for writing, placing multiple times in a state young writer’s competition.  Viva experienced a bit of culture shock moving from a diverse urban landscape to rural WV, where for the first time she witnessed racial prejudice. Still, for the most part Viva enjoyed growing up in the beautiful rural surroundings and made life-long friends there. 

Turned off by the pressure in high school to choose a career and college, Viva took a year off after graduation. The time was spent bonding with her younger brother and figuring out what to do next.  In 2002 she enrolled in a local liberal arts college and somewhat on a whim, chose to pursue a degree in photography.  She soon found herself in love with and excelling at the course of study and upon graduation was given a prestigious academic title. Through the college, Viva was finally able to realize her dream of traveling abroad.  A junior year trip, partly funded by an Art Department scholarship, took her to London and Paris, and a post-graduation trip found her exploring Peru.

In 2007, Viva decided to return to her roots in northern Virginia and quickly landed a job as an administrative assistant at an international broadcast news station in Washington, D.C.  One year later she left to live with a long time friend (turned love) in the Mediterranean city of Tel Aviv, Israel. The she found work with an American promotional materials company and in her spare time wandered the city taking photos and soaking up the foreign culture. Another year passed, and in 2009 Viva and her partner moved together to Maryland.   After a six month search, she was able to find a job at a federal agency working in communications.  In the past few years she has written and photographed for local publications and published several photos in a Jerusalem-based newspaper.  She currently lives in Washington, D.C. and is pursuing an M.S. in Interactive Media.

A Weekly Clash

This is an article I wrote that was published in a community newsletter in 2010. Obviously this is a fraught topic and I tried my best to give equal voice to both sides while maintaining a neutral tone.

Every Saturday morning, a small group of people gathers on a sidewalk in front of 1400 Spring Street in Silver Spring. Some of the people hold up placards, pray and occasionally interact with the other people on the sidewalk; mostly college-age women in orange vests that read “Pro-Choice Clinic Escort.” The protesters sometimes refer to them as “death-scorts.” The building behind them holds the local Planned Parenthood clinic, which provides in-house abortions along with other reproductive services for women. The clinic also provides escorts to accompany patients inside the building, if they do not wish to speak with the protesters.

Olga Fairfax, a particularly vocal pro-life activist, tries her best to reach out to the patients entering the building, despite the presence of the escorts. Sporting a red “Pro-Life” tee-shirt and carrying a sign depicting infant body parts, Olga is a staple on the corner of Spring St. and 1^st Avenue, setting up large graphic signs and protesting every Saturday, as well as some week days. Dr. Fairfax, (who holds a Ph.D in Counseling), says her main message is that “this is an exploitive situation that helps no one. There is a better way.” On a recent Saturday, she successfully convinced a potential clinic patient to go instead to the nearby Centro Tepayac Women’s Center, a nonprofit Catholic agency which seeks to provide an alternative to abortion through such services as free testing, referrals, counseling, and providing parenting information. (Recently the Montgomery County Council passed a bill requiring the center to post a disclosure sign alerting patients that it is not a medical facility and lacks medical staff.) All services at Centro Tepeyac are free, which Olga compared to the Planned Parenthood clinic, where she says doctors “kill for money.”  She also asserted that the clinic pays the escorts for each patient they successfully bring in, a claim disputed by an escort who wished only to be identified as Paul.

According to Paul, the escorts are “invited guests” of the clinic and come from an all-volunteer organization, the Washington Area Clinic Defense Task Force (WACDTF). Despite the controversy of the situation, he said they try to stay focused on their core message, “which is that women are entitled to access to these clinics for legal reproductive health care.”  If a patient is intercepted by a protestor, escorts will let the patient know that she does not need to speak with the protesters unless she wishes to, and will offer to walk the patient to the building door. While the WACDTF has a strict non-violence policy, Paul says that there have been a few “nasty” verbal confrontations between the two opposing factions sharing the sidewalk, and passersby have occasionally called police.

Mary-Ann Hendler, another pro-life activist, attempts to take a gentler approach. She tells the escorts that she is praying for them, and even invites them to lunch with her.  Asked about her goal in protesting at the clinic, she said, “We are trying to help women see other alternatives – other things they haven’t thought of, such as adoption.  Nobody can deny the truth of what’s happening, the reality of it. They are also putting their souls at serious risk of being lost forever.”  Showing similar concern, a group from St. Bernadette's Catholic Church joins in prayer in front of the clinic on a weekly basis.

On any given Saturday morning, actual patients entering the clinic seem sparse in number, but the few who arrive can expect to be met by both activists and escorts, all of whom feel it is their duty to be present where they are needed.