A hand full of us from the program, Nativ, wandered over to Shira
Hadasha for Ma’ariv (evening services). It was insane; services were outside
and led by a band. Yom Hazikaron was being played out by a band leading a
service that ends the same way we end Yom Kippur, and it was being replaced
with Yom Haatzmaut, Independence Day. All Jewish holidays begin the evening
before the holiday, so naturally Yom Haatzmaut begins at sundown on Yom
Hazikaron with a nationwide block party.
The streets were packed with people of all ages. Cotton
candy and popcorn were on sale everywhere and kids were chasing each other with
inflatable blue and white hammers. In center city there were three or four live
concerts taking place and everywhere else people were blasting their own music.
It was impossible to believe that less than twelve hours ago most of these
people were in the cemetery with me. I had been hanging out with a handful of
people from my program, but we got separated when Brian, Aryeh, and I decided
to go get second dinner (3 hours after first dinner). Two things: by this point
on the program, nobody was shocked that Aryeh, Brian, and I were off doing
something together. People would literally use one of our names to call to any
of us, not in the ‘that ginger, the kid with the mop on his head, and the tiny
kippah kid’ look alike, but more in the ‘mom needs something and she doesn’t
have time to remember which son she’s calling for’ kind of way. Second, we had
a bad habit of indulging in second dinner whenever we were in Jerusalem (which
is better than when Aryeh and I would get triple dinner in Haifa…I digress).
Obviously, we went to our favorite worst pizza place in Jerusalem, Cycone.
A word about Cycone; I LOVE CYCONE! It’s pizza is day to day
(honestly hour to hour); It’s relatively good, sometimes actually good, and
it’s freakin’ cheap. For twenty five shkalim (about $6.50) a pie I’d eat the
damn cardboard box it came in, and as broke “college” students none of us were
going to complain. Hell, I don't even mind that there's no "L" in the name! Did they mean 'cycLone?' Who the hell knows?!?! All we know is we gave up caring about 7 months ago (even if it still sparks discussion as to if cyclone is just a misspelling of cycone...). We split two between us and went about our business, and by
business I mean party hopping all night making stops at Gan Haatzmaut for
fireworks at 10:30 and 12:30. I wandered around with various groups of friends
throughout the night, but eventually the night had to end…at about six am when
the sun started to come up. I took a quick nap and got up at eleven, ready to
celebrate Israeli independence.
Israelis know how to celebrate independence right. I’m
almost positive most of them would say it’s a mitzvah (commandment, often
mistranslated as good deed) to have a big ass Bar B Q in the park. So that’s
exactly what we did. The director of our program stood behind a grill from
eleven to three just cooking away, and the ninety plus of us there did our part
by eating all afternoon. It was incredible; what more could you ask for?
Friends, Frisbee, steak, chicken, grilled veggies, football, real football (you
choose which is which), and a fly over by the Israeli Air Force. The park was
full of families doing exactly what we were and it was at about noon that I
decided that no matter where I am in the world, I will be fulfilling the
mitzvah of all day BBQ every year on Yom Haatzmaut. Happy Birthday Israel!
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