.::Rejected like Dikembe Mutombo used to do::.

I was never any good at sports. I mean, don't get me wrong - there have been plenty victims of my killer crossover in basketball, or my Madden-like play calling in sand football, and I can get by in soccer. What I mean to say is, while I'm athletic now, perhaps I've come a long way. You see, back in elementary school I was almost always picked last in basketball. Angella Carr would always embarrass me (I used to say it was because she was a Lefty but she was just better...much better). Lillian Welch would tackle me so hard in football I wouldn't want to play some times. A lot of this had to do with my personality. I was always a bit shy and never wanted to call attention to myself. Kind of like that one Japanese saying, "He who sticks out like a nail gets hammered down"...yeah, I guess for a long time I attempted to maintain my anonymity, at times for better, but almost always for worse.



Then I moved to a new city and had to insert myself into a completely different culture of students. Almost no one looked like me. The few that did all played basketball. And they were pretty good, so if you didn't have game then you didn't play - simple as that. Let's just say I played by myself for awhile. My jumpshot sucked. I wasn't quick. And in order to dribble I had to look down. Until one day, I happened to be playing a pickup game with a group of guys who were desperate for a 10th player. I was tired of playing by myself and so I needed to find my niche. One guy challenged me as he was driving to the hoop and I jumped and blocked his shot wayyyyyyyy out of bounds. All of my teamates patted me on the back and made fun of the other guy. It felt good. So I started blocking everyone's shot. I never actually shot the ball. I just blocked shots. A lot of them. I started playing with the guys who looked like me and blocked their shots too. (it probably helped that I was a foot taller than a good number of them) It felt so good to just reject people over and over and over. I was praised for my defense and frequently invited to play at lunchtime. I made friends and became popular and so on and so forth.



But for some reason I never felt comfortable working on other areas of my game until later on. It was so much easier and unassuming to just block shots instead. I thought about this just recently since I've been in Brasil. This came to mind as I began to think about my approach toward learning a new language. When I learned Spanish, I remember not feeling comfortable speaking in public unless I knew exactly what I wanted to say and how to say it with perfect grammar and annunciation - for fear of critique and...rejection. But I would always criticize people and correct them without conscience.



People say Portuguese is basically Spanish with a few differences and a lazy French accent. Not true. There are so many differences, it has been a lot more difficult than I imagined. However, I've changed my approach toward learning this language in hopes of realizing faster results. I just get out there and speak and fail and speak some more. I get corrected all of the time. But every now and then I'll hear a native speaker say, "Voce esta fallando muito bom..Legal!" - and this will make it all worth it. And then I'll get a little cocky and walk up to the bartender and oh so smoothly say, "Eu quero uma caipirinha." To which they'll respond, "Nao entende" (I don't understand) - which is extremely deflating, you have no idea. I'll say, CAIPIRINHA CAI PEE REEN YUHHHHH! And then I'll have to point to the menu and they'll say "Ahhh, voce quere uma CaipirEEEUUUUUNYAAHHHHH". The only difference here being a nasally almost obnoxious vocal intonation that actually, makes all the difference.



No longer am I blocking shots, so to speak. I'm getting my stuff rejected Dikembe Mutombo style almost every day and I love it because it's chizeling me to become that much better, that much quicker. I would suggest the same for anyone who is interested in learning something new; whether it be a foreign language or a musical instrument or anything else. A former supervisor of mine used to tell me, "Bobby, I don't mind if you make mistakes...I'd prefer that you didn't BUT if you do, make sure it's an aggressive one because then I'll know that you were at least trying."

Southern (America) Hospitality - My first 3 weeks in Brasil

On August 5th, I arrived at LAX nearly three and a half hours before my scheduled departure for Sao Paolo, Brazil and was shocked at how quickly I was able to get through security and to my gate. There was actually a moment when I paused, having just received my passport from the officer, and thinking to myself (most likely with a constipated look on my face), “Ok, where are you taking me now?” (For those who aren't familiar with my Israeli security stories: I was detained on 3 separate occasions by Israeli officers totaling more than 10 hours, strip searched, interrogated, embarrassed and frustrated.) However, to my delight, the officer merely snapped me out of my daze of confusion and ushered me forward.

My partner in crime out here in Brazil is a fellow Pepperdine MBA student by the name of Rob Marcus. We decided on holding off on getting an apartment until we arrived because we didn't feel comfortable wiring money to strangers ahead of time. This blog is the story of the journey that ensued sprinkled with a few tidbits on life and cultural differences here in Brazil.

After my plane arrived in Sao Paolo I managed to board a bus that took me to the apartment of another Pepperdine MBA student by the name of Cyrus Cama, who currently resides here. He was generous enough to house both Rob and myself for the night until we could make other temporary arrangements. Hmmmm temporary arrangements....Talk about lambs being led to the slaughter house! We got a hostel that looked alright based on the internet photos but...yea, more on that in a bit. Cyrus then walked us across the street and helped us get a taxi. (Side note: Rob spoke zero Portuguese at this time and I only understood a marginal amount, but was at times able to speak Sportuguese, which sounded something like this: “Uh hola, como est- I mean como vai, um me puedao chegare a la vila mareeana, por favore? (blank stare) Ehhhhh, forget it.” Points at address on paper.)

Weeeee pulled up to the hostel about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabbie “Yo homes, smell ya later”, I looked at my kingdom I was finally here..........hmmmmm “Rob, man, something seems off.” The manager, Fernando started flowing in Portuguese and when we both had the Homer Simpson look of simplicity in our eyes, he asked if either of us speak Spanish. Ohhhhh, siiiiii, gracias a dios, yo si hablo espanol!!!! (Thanks Mom!) He showed us to our rooms, where we would be separated. After I saw the shady looking characters that were in there as well as the smell of rank dank and stank, I said “Say, uh, Rob, you can have this one man. No worries.” Fernando then showed me to my room across the hall. As soon as I opened the door there was this middle aged bald man with missing teeth sitting in the dark under his covers smiling at something on his computer screen. Cold shivers came over me as I walked through the threshold and put my bags down. There were two bunkbeds and I had the bottom one across from Mr. Baldy McToothless. My bed had no sheets (apparently people bring their own) and one wool cover (I'm allergic to wool). As I laid down to go to sleep that night I could smell damp towels and foot odor. The other two guys plopped onto their beds as well and it took me hours before I could sleep mainly because Mr. McToothless was still grinning in front of his computer and the guys on the top bunks kept moving, which triggered creaky noises from the furniture. I then decided to listen to my “Sad/Depressing Playlist” on my iPod and nodded off.

The next day, Rob and I got up early and went to school where we spent a good portion of the day trying to look for an apartment. We had our price limit and we were determined not to get ripped off. When we got back to the hostel and went to the common area to continue our search on the internet, we were clearly agitated because everyone in the place was smoking. And not just one and done, but chain smoking cigarettes, one after the other. I asked Fernando about this and he replied, majority rules. That fool smokes too so of course he would say that. In fact, the only place that people don't smoke is outside. I was irate, but felt so helpless at the same time. Rob and I upped the ante and got a premium account for a apartment hunting website. The only replies were for 1 room or for people who turned out to be very unreliable.

We then took a different approach to the hostel and tried to open up a bit. I was sick from the flight and smoke and Rob woke me up to invite me out for drinks with 6 Brazilian dudes and 1 Argentine named Luciano. We got to drinking, and talking, and eating, and drinking some more. Luciano was really cool and super helpful since he spoke Portuguese, Spanish and English. The entire night we virtually had a three way conversation that included a great deal of translation and even more body language and vocal intonation. It ended up lasting until 4am and we really bonded with everyone. From then on we began to really try and get to know everyone, while understanding their back story and what brought them to Os Visitantes Hostel in Vila Mariana. One kid was a Web Developer from Brasilia who moved to Sao Paolo to make a great deal more money than he would in his home town, save money by living at the hostel, and eventually move back to start his own business. Another was a Violin player for the Symphony who toured all over Brazil before suffering a major back injury in a car accident. He is now addicted to pain killers and still trying to find his way. There were several students who moved into Sao Paolo to get a better education. Another was an English teacher from the coastal cities who was saving money to go back home. After hearing these stories it almost felt like we rushed to judgment a bit too soon. Even Baldy McToothless returned to the hostel a week after leaving, with his beautiful, and I mean beauuuuuuuutiful wife. Perhaps he was skyping that whole time. Ha! Each and everyone at the hostel was very helpful going above and beyond my wildest expectations in making sure we were taken care of and comfortable in their country. One guy showed us how to use the metro in order to get to our school and also showed us around Avenida Paulista. An older woman cooked every day and offered us free meals and even volunteered to help us find an apartment. Whether it was the people at the hostel, our school, or random strangers on the street, I can't say enough about how warm and helpful everyone has been in Brazil. Near week two, the hostel wasn't as bad as I had previously thought. Plus, the area was incredible. We quickly found our local favorite restaurants, gym, bars and shopping districts. It was around this time that we may have gotten a bit comfortable with our current situation. That is until the nights got colder and my allergies worsened. There were nights so cold that I bundled up in clothes and (gasp) used the wool cover. There were allergies so bad that my eyes and nose were red and I would sneeze 20 times in a row. I averaged about 3 hours of sleep per night for about 5-6 days. And then Fernando had the audacity to impose a lights out curfew at midnight. We had enough at this point. It certainly looked bleak until...

Success! Someone responded to our add and was looking for two people to move in as soon as possible. The best part was that the apartment was literally right in front of our school. No more waking up early to ride the metro into Bela Vista. We could set our alarms for 8:55am and still make it to class on time at 9. We got an excellent deal on a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment that is fully furnished with cable, internet and even a washing machine. Ligao! (Cool! in portuguese) (Side note: In Brazil, there is security for literally every building and business in the country. Also, you have to use your key to get in and out of the apartment, which I think is a serious fire hazard and tremendous liability, yet I digress.) Throughout this experience I learned a few things. First of which was that planning ahead has its perks in certain situations. Also, at least to me, there is nothing more rewarding than engaging in a cultural exchange. The idea that we can be limited in our communication and general habits but still find common ground is such a powerful concept to me. In less than three weeks I've engaged in extended conversation with servers, been samba dancing, shown around town and dined with complete strangers. Brazilians are hospitable by nature, which is certainly refreshing. And finally, patience, perseverance and a bit of luck goes a long way toward getting what you truly want. Throughout it all, Rob and I stayed positive and helped each other out, especially when the other was having a bad day. Whatever hardship we encountered was massaged by the breadth of relationships we happened upon. Now that we're settled, I feel comfortable saying that it's going to be a great semester.

Trip to Petra, Jordan

Click the link below to check out my awesome trip to Jordan last weekend:

http://youtu.be/ZQmeEwqk2Lk

So, I had my first bomb scare this morning...

As I prepared my duffle bag this morning and selected my “Oh So Smooth Yet Mildly Funky Hip Hop” Playlist on my iPod, the last thing that I expected was anything less than a seamless commute to work. Some of the other interns and myself have agreed that while in Israel we have become engulfed in a vacuum of ignorance. This is not to say that we have not kept up with world news since we’ve been here, but rather we have been focusing on the aesthetic appeal of what can otherwise be described as a visceral coming of age experience. There has been plenty of newsworthy items in the press of late including protests in Jerusalem and Shimon Peres issuing a time sensitive plea for peace. Perhaps we have assimilated so much into Israeli culture that these items have appeared to be more “business as usual” than anything else. Up to this point I have not felt, in the least bit, unsafe.

I stepped onto Bus 25 on Allenby just 100 meters from my apartment on Sheinkin street. It was quite crowded but I made my way to the middle of the bus where I literally rubbed shoulders with an Israeli hipster and an older Muslim woman. About 15 minutes into my journey, the bus came to a screeching halt and there were cars lined up in front of us for at least 2 blocks. I just figured this was typical traffic on Ibn Gabirol street on a Wednesday morning. But we simply were not moving and it had been 5 minutes. The Bus driver then said something in Hebrew over the intercom and people started exiting the bus in droves. I’m still thinking maybe there was a bad car accident ahead (like in LA). So I begin walking up the street to walk past the “accident” in hopes of catching another bus where perhaps they were being re-routed. There are lots of police ahead and I’m thinking they really are thorough about their accidents in this country. Then I’m thinking there may have been a fatality but I don’t see an ambulance. I get to a point where the sidewalk is now taped off and people are ordered by a physically imposing bald Israeli officer to either wait or leave. One guy tries to go around the tape on his bike and the officer screams at him to come back. Young Israelis begin to take video on their smart phones and I begin to realize something is incredibly wrong.

I ask at least three people if they speak English, to no avail. You don’t realize how imperative it is that you speak a language until you feel like your life is in danger. I finally came across a young college student who informed me that there is a bomb scare across the street. As I peered over some shoulders I could see a Leumi Bank branch and a small white package in front of the main entrance. There was a bomb squad officer who approached the package very cautiously and put a diagnostic device near it. I ask my new friend if this happens a lot and how long this could take. She replies, “Oh yeah, this happens all of the time…it should be over in 15 minutes…no need to leave.” 10 minutes later there is a slew of intercom talk between officers. The bomb squad officer was pacing back and forth near the object. He then takes refuge behind his vehicle and then, BOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Everyone including myself momentarily ducked for cover. Apparently, rather than removing the object and risking explosion, he initiated an explosive blowing up the object. Seconds later he waved to the other officers to let everyone through and resume traffic. Pedestrians were walking around the massacred object with only a few stopping to actually see what it was.

Business as usual.

I̶t̶’̶s̶... Easy Being Green

In recent years there has been somewhat of a shift toward “greener” and more environmentally responsible practices in the U.S. In comparison to what I’ve seen in Israel, I would classify it as more of a slow crawl. It’s no secret that Tel Aviv is highly congested due to it’s thriving economy, but what doesn’t necessarily get reported is how forward thinking they are in their green initiatives.

Cars are smaller while bikes , motor scooters and public transportation are widely used. Part of this is due to the fact that one can never successfully find a parking space in Tel Aviv, but there is also a mentality of each one taking ownership over protecting the environment. There are huge recycle bins on every corner that most people will go out of their way to use in lieu of just dumping it in a more conveniently located trash can.

My company’s offices are located in a large building in a business park just outside of Tel Aviv. The Air Condition is timed to go off after every hour so as not to be wasteful of energy. The water pressure in sinks is low so that people only use the water that they need. Above every toilet in Tel Aviv are two buttons, one for a less intense flush and the other for, well, you know. There is a switch outside of our bathroom that needs to be activated in order to produce hot water when taking a shower. Glass cups are about half the size of those in the states and so you really begin to notice that you take only what you need. Aluminum cans filled with soda and juice are typically smaller, which also reduces consumption. Our group listened to a speaker in a conference room at a Hotel in Jerusalem, and noticed that if we stood still for longer than 5 minutes, then the lights would automatically shut off. The elevators completely shut down after a short bout of inactivity. I could go on and on!

Just a couple of months ago, a Green Bike Sharing service was launched by a company called Tel-O-Fun. There are over 1500 lime green bikes at 150 stations all over Tel Aviv that have anywhere from 2-10 bicycles available for rent. You simply pay a small fee at the corresponding automated station and ride to your destination that will most likely have another station for drop off. How cool is that? This cuts down on waste and clutter on the streets of Tel Aviv while providing a compelling transportation option.

Tel Aviv certainly has the right idea in creating an environment that is wholeheartedly committed to supporting responsible practices at every level. The U.S. has certainly come a long way over the years, but immersion in Tel Aviv has opened my eyes as to just how far we have to go.

Jerusalem יְרוּשָׁלַיִם القُدس

While walking on King George street in Jerusalem, just outside of the Old City, I noticed a banner on the side of an apartment building with a picture of a Native American Chief that read, “Ask me about land for peace.” This is a particularly loaded statement and so I’ll do my best to interpret it from several angles. But I’ll get back to that in a moment and first go into my experience touring through Jerusalem.

The first thing that I noticed, as a Marketing student, was that upon arrival to Jerusalem there were very few non-invasive advertisements that you would generally find in most large cities around the world. There were many hills throughout Jerusalem but none of the buildings perched on them managed to eclipse the skyline. In other words, the integrity and sanctity of the city is in large part preserved to this day, even with the aggressive pervasiveness of western capitalism. Which is stunning considering that Jerusalem is old; I mean, really old. King David identified it as the Holy City 3,000 years ago in the Torah/Old Testament. The Christians identified it as the site of Jesus death and resurrection in 30 C.E. The Muslims identified it as the city where Muhammad ascended to heaven in the 7th century. Three of the worlds major religions intersect in a city that spans one square kilometer, the implications of which involve sovereignty. We’ll get to more on that in a bit.

יְרוּשָׁלַיִם

The Old City of Jerusalem is split into 4 respective quarters; Jewish, Muslim, Christian and Armenian. For the sake of brevity I’ll omit discussion on the Armenian quarter and begin with the Jewish quarter. It was rather interesting to see the Tomb of David and revisit the many biblical accounts on his life. The most notable area was the Western Wall where Jews (Ultra Orthodox, Orthodox and Secular) come from all over to worship and pray. The Dome of the Rock now houses the area where the Jewish Temple of Jerusalem once stood. The Western Wall is the closest area in proximity to the former Temple and is now the sacred destination for Jewish worship. The wall is partioned off by gender and people typically read the book of Psalms, write a prayer on a piece of paper and place it in the wall for consideration. There is a great deal of joy involved in their worship since there is both song and dance, but I couldn’t help but notice there were clear divisions between the “types” of Jews within the Western Wall. For example, the Ultra Orthodox Jews wouldn’t even acknowledge anyone else at the site. Regardless, I was overwhelmed by the intensity of the scene that I witnessed, to the point that I was brought to tears. God and Religion have been a glaring void in my life for nearly ten years and I remembered the dedication and zeal that I once had. It is truly a site to witness in person.

القُدس

A group of us attempted to visit the Golden Dome of the Rock in the Muslim Quarter on a Saturday morning. The women had their scarves and modest clothing. I had my passport ready to help bypass security (what once hurt me upon entering into Israel should help me in Muslim circles, right?). My childhood friend who speaks Arabic was on hand to help translate. The last set of visitors were allowed in no later than 11am and it was already 10. We began to power walk, which evolved into a light jog at one point. We were weaving through crowds excited about our possible photo prospects of a lifetime. The final stretch approached as we were flanked by street vendors and a set of stairs. I felt like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark when he seemingly achieved success by replacing the Gold artifact with a bag of sand…only to get denied. The guards said it was closed to non-muslims and when my friend told them in Arabic that I had a “Muslim” name (actually, it’s a Persian name, non-islamic) they entertained me entering until they realized that I didn’t know a word of the prayer. It was quite deflating to say the least but the mere glimpse of it was breathtaking. The rest of the Muslim quarter, which is the largest, seems to overlap the Christian quarter and is bustling with a generous mix of historic religious sites and street merchants and stores. The demographic of people are different from the rest of Israel and include women in burkas. The military presence in the Muslim quarter is difficult to ignore as it is quite common to see groups of soldiers with automatic rifles in clear view.

Jerusalem

There is a certain charm to the Old City of Jerusalem. The streets and buildings are lined with stone, ecompassed by the majestic city walls. If you stop to listen carefully, you will hear hints of conversation in arabic and hebrew, children running and laughing through the streets and pigeons cooing and flapping their wings. Peace is maintained, for the most part and it’s quite refreshing to experience. The Christian quarter was highlighted by the Holy Sepulchre, which is widely believed to be the site of Jesus crucifiction. Next to it is the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, a very colorful medley of green and red hues, with clerics reading the bible in quiet serenity. Once we passed through the Ethiopian church we came to the Holy Sepulchre (one of two sites that historians claim could be the site of Jesus crucifiction, the other is in East Jerusalem at the Garden of the Tomb…the side of the mount is said to be Golgotha, which has the look of a skull). Inside of the Sepulchre were several rooms and at least two floors where young clerics were led in singing holy hymns. All the while there was another who swung incense on a pendulum. You could tell that there was a great deal of money that went into this site as you could certainly feel the commercial presence of it all. The Aedicule was riddled with precious metals and stones. As I stood there amongst it all, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is truly how Jesus would have wanted to be remembered?

Implications of Jerusalem’s History on the Present Day Conflict

During its long history, Jerusalem has been destroyed twice, besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, and captured and recaptured 44 times. These events have been precipitated in large part due to religious sovereignty over the city. The Jewish people claim a longstanding relationship with Jerusalem, as do the Christians and Muslims. The United States of America has only been in existence for a little over two centuries and so we have no way of truly understanding the cultural and religious implications of having ties to a region of the world for thousands of years. Furthermore, the age of technology that we live in encourages us to make hasty judgements (for better or for worse). But in the grand scheme of things, we all live in a world with limited resources, and with greed and selfish, self serving guidelines; a world that has been conquered, and will be conquered again. It’s prudent to consider that the U.S. at one point, with the ideology of Manifest Destiny, massacred the Native American in the name of civilization (hardly a noble cause, depending on who you talk to). This was the idea behind the banner that was hanging on King George street in Jerusalem. In other words they are saying, we (the Jews) have a cause that we are passionate about and will attempt to maintain sovereignty over this Holy Land at all costs; don’t be so quick to judge us when it was you who destroyed Native American tribes and enslaved African people in the name of your cause.

The Jewish recently celebrated a holiday of victory, which is known to the Arab world as Humiliation Day. There is a great deal of hatred and resentment for the Jews from the Arabs (specifically the Palestinians who are occupied by Israeli soldiers and live in abject poverty). The Palestian population is growing at a tremendous rate and with support from the rest of the Ummah, including the Iranians, there is no telling what the future holds for the Jewish state of Israel. It is for that reason that people are absolutely glued to the news and concerned with the turn of events, regardless of scale.

A Jewish Professor and Diplomat during the peace talks by the name of Reuven, spoke to us in length about the conflict, convinced that peace was hardly within reach since “the Palestinians refuse to acknowledge our right to exist.” He also said that many of Israel’s positioning is strictly for military purposes although “it’s only a matter of time…before we lose a war.” He cites possible economic incentives for neighbors of Israel, but he also made it clear, that if you felt you knew what the solution was, you were sadly mistaken. In the U.S., we live in a culture of winning and losing highlighted by the fact that none of our sports generally end in a Tie; we want a winner and loser…a decisive victory and victor. Throughout the rest of the world, this is simply not the case. Soccer and Cricket matches end in ties and people think nothing of it other than that was the outcome. Perhaps we should think of this conflict a bit differently: A sad and unfortunate territorial divide spurred by a fervent and unwavering dedication to one’s religion, tradition and culture; a conflict born centuries ago of which will never see a clear and decisive victor.

Racial Profiling, et. al on El Al.

It was mentioned in passing and seemingly in jest that due to my first and last names, I would encounter a heightened security screening prior to boarding my flight with El Al Airlines. With that said, I never thought it would happen quite as it did. I arrived at LAX around 11:10; 2 hours and 20 minutes before my scheduled departure. The El Al terminal is ripe with security guards carrying large guns in full view. As I joined my group to go through the standard interview of "Where are you going...who are you staying with...why do you want to come to israel, etc", everything appeared to go just fine until "Where is your father from?" I smiled and said "he is from Iran and came to the U.S. before the revolution..."

That was a mistake! In comes a supervisor: "Why did you feel it necessary to mention the revolution? Did he have knowledge of a revolution and was he a part of it?" Me: "um, no, um I meant nothing by it, that's the typical answer I give, um sorry." Supervisor: "Your father is Muslim? Does he attend Mosque? Pray?" Me: "He is more of a secular Muslim." (by this time I am keeping my answers as short as possible...don't want to volunteer info that can be further used against me) Supervisor: "So he is Muslim...hmmm ok so what church does he go to?" Me: "Church? oh, you mean is he Shi'ite or Sunni? Yes, well, um he is Shi'ite Muslim." Supervisor: "So he goes to church? Muslim's don't have church! So you see, you are making no sense." (takes notes) Me: "No, see, um, I realize they don't have church. That's only for Christians. I thought you were referring to a specific denomination within Isl..." Supervisor: "Wait right here sir."

Chief of Security approaches and asks me for all of my bags, including carry on. Chief: "We're going to inspect these, sir. Now come with me." We then go behind the area where bags are loaded into a small dimly lit room; lots of trash and one single chair. He wands me, asks me to drop my pants and asks me more questions to make sure everything added up with what I said before. At this point I'm thinking that I'm lucky not to go to jail, let alone make my flight. He leaves me in the room with a guard at the door for nearly 15 minutes. At least 4 of the El Al employees that I had dealt with ceased making eye contact and smiling...it almost appeared as if they were embarrassed that they had to take these measures to ensure security. I was then released to another employee who personally escorted me through security and all the way to my gate where I was quarantined from everyone else until the flight boarded, at which point I was escorted once again to the plane. The Chief of security told me that my bags were not fully inspected and at least one would not make the flight. Then, midway through my flight the flight attendant notified me that she received a fax stating that none of my bags were on the flight and I should expect them the following day. Once I arrived in Tel Aviv, at least two security members stopped me again. I noticed that they saw a sticker on the back of my passport with a "T" circled (presumably for Terrorist...regardless this was an alert that was branded me). I took it off as soon as I got on the bus. In the states I had been racially profiled for being black on several occasions, but this was the first time that I was profiled for being Iranian. Interestingly enough this is also the first time that I felt as if I was a jointly exhaustive dichotomy, of sorts. Two separate and mutually exclusive ethnicities ripe for racially profiling at the discretion of others.

T minus 9 days...

...until I take off for the journey of a lifetime! My destination is Tel a viv and I'll be interning as a Strategy Consultant at a company called Biological Signal Processes Ltd. This company is relatively new having gone public only a few years ago. They developed technology to successfully diagnose coronary artery disease using non invasive signaling. I'll be helping them expand their operation. While I'm in Israel, I plan on traveling throughout the country quite extensively. I remember reading about historic sites such as Jerusalem, Nazareth, The Sea of Galilee, The Dead Sea, etc. and now I have the opportunity to actually soak in the sites for myself. I also plan on visiting Turkey while I'm in the area. Istanbul is supposed to have some breathtaking views and is also quite rich in history. Stay tuned for multiple blog updates while there including pictures and video!

Mazel Tov!

In December I applied for a Summer Internship program through Pepperdine that takes place in Israel. The dates for the internship are from mid May through the end of July and will be in either Tel Aviv or Jerusalem. If you'd have spoken to me after I interviewed for it, I probably would have told you there was no way I was considered as a serious candidate. In my opinion, the interview went poorly. However, no later than two days after my interview I was informed that I would be moving on to the final interview (which, as I understand it, is more of a formality to determine where I'd be placed).

I have yet to decide if I will take the internship since I have already committed to my Brazil study abroad. The reason being is that I will, in essence, be out of the country from May until December. I have some thinking to do but this is certainly great news and I'm grateful to be in a position ripe with options.