For a complete change of scenery, we drove North to Kibbutz Baram, literally a stone’s throw from the Lebanon border. Don’s cousins, Sagi, Limor, and Limor’s dog Lola, joined us at the train station in Tel Mond. We somehow managed to cram five people, seven bags, and a dog, into our small, Israeli style car for a rather uncomfortable drive. Lola looked remarkably like my family’s black lab named Toby, and it made me realize how much I missed having a dog around, even if she was panting in my face for the two-hour drive.
Sagi and Limor grew up on the kibbutz, a lifestyle that is slowly becoming extinct. Kibbutzim were first established by Russian Jews, who were trying to develop the barren land. Nobody had a salary; they just woke up early, worked the fields, and had communal meals, housing, and daycare. Over the years, many kibbutzim failed and those that remained became more capitalist, even selling off plots of land to families. Kibbutz Baram is one of the last working Kibbutzim in all of Israel, and second richest, next to Kibbutz Sasa, which builds and sells defense technology to the United States.
We arrived in Baram, and were greeted by Don’s athletic uncle Moshe, who once a year rides his bicycle to Eilat, nearly a 300 mile journey. He took us for a meal at the cheder ochel, a dining hall reminiscent of the one from my college. The whole Kibbutz actually had the vibe of a college campus, with small uniform apartments, young volunteers smoking by the pool, bicycles strewn on every lawn, and a predominantly laid back attitude. Don’s dad proclaimed the Kibbutz has the best schnitzel he’s ever had, and he cleaned his plate after multiple trips to the buffet.
That evening, the Kibbutz organized a “summer party”, with a carnival for the kids, and a disco party after their bedtime. A kibbutz would be a wonderful place to grow up. The self-contained community with multiple parks, a zoo, a museum, tennis courts, a swimming pool, a soccer field, a movie theater, and an excess of playmates, gives the children free reign. At dusk, every child on the kibbutz seemed to be congregated around the stage on soccer field, waiting for the magician to start. Club-like strobe lights flashed, and electronically remixed children’s songs pumped on the speakers, when the magician appeared and began pulling scarves out of his mouth. He chose a lucky boy named Ori to assist him in his act. Ori had an infectious giggle, and the magician played jokes on him, making things appear and disappear out of his closed fists. Don and I helped ourselves to some popcorn and ice cream, and left shortly after they broke out the kegs of beer for the adults.
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