By BEN PRIME

Keeping the Faith:
Dan Postilnik's Pilgrimage to Israel
By Jett Fein '05

A crowd of Ultra Orthodox Jews light the menorah on Ben Yehuda Street, the main shopping and entertainment venue in down-town Jerusalem. Tonight, Ben Yehuda Street is empty, "lacking in tourism for obvious reasons." Suddenly, -and suddenly may not always be a good thing in downtown Jerusalem,-loud music starts blaring from a van parked next to the crowd. People begin to dance; in fact, everyone begins to dance, including many participants on Dan Postilnik's '05 recent trip to Israel organized by the Jewish Federation of the North Shore. For a country that doesn't export heaps of cheerful news, Postilnik was a lucky observer of this Hanukkah marvel. Not unlike the rest of his trip, which occurred this past December, Postilnik witnessed the land "flowing with milk and honey"

Traveling with other Jewish Americans to a place "that will accept [him] with open arms simply because [he] was born a Jew" was especially gratifying to Postilnik.

A student group who all knew each other from a Jewish heritage tour of Eastern Europe this past summer gathered at Logan airport in Boston for a long trip to Israel. After arriving in Tel Aviv at 4 am-when most people should be dreaming about latkes and driedels during the Hanukah season, Postilnik was eager to make the 45 minute drive to Jerusalem. "It was dark during the drive. [The landscape] was unusual because [it] is something you can't be prepared for. There are rolling, barren hills dotted with an occasional hush or tree. Past the hills extend spacious flatlands punctuated by villages just waking up.

Stops on the journey included the Israeli Knesset (Parliament.), where Postilnik and his companions listened to a fervent politician who spoke to surprisingly small audience and the National Cemetery where the graves of Theodore Hertzl founder of Modern Zionism and former Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin are buried. Another historical site included on the tour was the Western Wall, guarded by metal detectors and X-ray machines. Surrounding the wall, the group encountered primarily tourists, but once inside the security barriers a more traditional sighting--Ultra-Orthodox Jews completing their daily prayer routine.

However, probably the most stunning landmark Postilnik visited is considered a huge source of national pride, and is translated from the Hebrew as "fortress." Masada is a flat mountain which holds a fortress on top built by the Roman appointed King Herod. The fortress remains after years of turmoil: in 66 C.E., the Jews revolted against the Romans. As Roman troops climbed up the mountainside, the inhabitants committed mass suicide so that they could avoid inevitable slavery. One woman escaped to retell the event, closing a story of dedication, cleverness, bravery and sacrifice.

During the trip, Postilnik had the opportunity to stay with a friend of his, Aaron, who lived in a modern Orthodox neighborhood on the outskirts of Jerusalem. On a Friday night, Aaron took Postilnik and some friends out to a place called Gesher--a park over-looking the Old City; they took in the magnificent sights until 2 am.

Modern Israel is a country full of rich and captivating history.

Unfortunately, due to the recent Intifada, tourism has dropped to a low point. People are simply nervous to travel there, however Postilnik had a completely optimistic approach. "I went to Israel with a sense of invincibility." He recounts the influence the Israeli people had on him: "They posses a certain warmth that I don't find in most Americans. Even if I don't agree with the lifestyle they're living, I can still have a good time there." Maybe Israel can be defined by the setting sun over the Dead Sea from the top of Masada or by the Hebrew language eloquently flowing from the mouths of those in prayer at the Western Wall. but for Postilnik, Israel was simply an escape. "At this point in my life, it's just one of the things I can say I belong to."

Returning Home:
Dan Phan's Journey to Vietnam
By Dan Phan '04

When Dan Phan '04 returned from his Christmas trip to his parents' home country of Vietnam, The Scroll asked for his impressions.

The air was thick and dusty due to motor-bikes that ran rampant in Vietnam.'

Through the midst and thick vegetation of tall coconut trees, soursop plants, kiwis, jackfruit, papayas, I caught a glimpse of a small brick house with no front door. I walked up the path and saw my grandma. She was surrounded by eight other men and women, who I presumed were my aunts and uncles. I approached the patio; my grandma sprinted towards me and hugged me-for the first time in my life.

My parents always thought that I would not be able to visit my ancestors' background until I was older. This past winter break, they felt the time had come.

Upon arrival in the country, my family first went to capital of Vietnam, Hanoi. At first glimpse it was different. It was a "wintry" 75 degrees and heavily everyone was bundled in jackets, hats and gloves. There were few cars. Instead, the city streets were jammed with motorbikes, or "Honda's," as the Vietnamese call it. Every time I crossed the road I though my life would soon be over as throngs of motorbikes continually sped down the small roads of Hanoi. This was not your typical American city. Because this was the Northern capital and base of the communist party prior to 1975, it has been slow to develop in comparison to other cities in Vietnam. Hanoi has only a few hotels and almost no restaurants. It was simply where all the government officials were.

We traveled to the coast cities of Danang and Nha Trang. The two cities were closer to the South and influenced more by Americans. It was here that I began to see pizza shops, five star hotels and other signs of American influence. The beach front streets were lined with souvenir shops, water activities, and fine shops and dining. There were practically no Vietnamese cultural attractions.In Danang there were people called "skeelo" drivers, people who were willing to cycle a tourist around the city for money. I never went on a ride but I did get a chance to hear their stories. Prior to the war, many of the "skeelo" drivers were professionals such as writers, doctors and journalists. After the fall of Saigon, many of them were sent to reeducation camps and prevented from having their original jobs. Their only resort was to drive these "skeelo's.

"Saigon was our last stop. Saigon is the epitome of westernized Vietnam. Five-star hotels lined the streets and everyone was trying to act "American." It was evident that the Vietnamese youths were beginning to lose their cultural heritage.

It was in Saigon that I saw my father's side of my family. As I walked around behind his house, everything seemed so foreign. The air smelled vaguely of farm animals and fish sauce. As I walked further and saw that there were two small chickens tied up to a post. "They're for the Chinese New Year's feast." My dad said. There was no bathroom. Rather, there was a plank that stood above a small pond in which to relieve oneself.The bizarre thing about the visit was that I actually felt no awkwardness around my aunts and uncles and grandmother. It was as if they had always been a part of my life.The one major thing I noticed about Vietnam is that you can't really stereotype or generalize about Vietnam. It is a country a differences. Despite the typical images you get of the countryside through such movies as Apocalypse Now, Vietnam is made up of very different areas and many different types of people, having Chinese people, Viet people, Hmong people, and some indigenous tribes. It is a dynamic country, moving towards a promising future.

Although I was born and raised in New Jersey this trip redefined what home really is.

As published in the February 10, 2004 issue of the Deerfield Scroll, the monthly newspaper of Deerfield Academy