Adventures in Arad and Conversations

 How are friend groups created? Why are they? Why are they so important?

View from my window at an obscenely early hour. 

These were questions that were asked quite often last weekend on a trip (a "Shabbaton") to Arad, a small city in the Negev (desert). They were brought up with good reason. Most of the students who attended the Shabbaton have been here in Israel for at least a month. The 91 attendees went to Ulpan together and have figured out Israel together. We know each other from classes, from other friends, from living on an almost deserted campus for two months before the rest of the students arrived (see: problems with the way that schools attempt to acclimate their international students). But this Shabbaton was very different from the first.
The first Shabbaton began with my and my roomies sprinting outside after waiting for a roommate who had forgotten to set her alarm. We didn't know each other well and were glad to have this shared experience to talk about. We were all exhausted, as no one had been in Israel for more than 4 days. I met so many people on that trip, completely unsure of and not at all worried about who I would eventually hang out with. A friend of mine who I was introduced to on the trip always likes to make fun of the fact that I didn't remember anything about him for the first two weeks of our occurrence. I made the mistake of telling him exactly why this is the case for most of the people that I meet in the beginning of programs - you just don't know who you are going to end up hanging out with in the end. Remembering everything about them, especially when you have asked 50 people the same questions, is difficult and sometimes silly, as you might never talk to that person again
This Shabbaton began with me meeting friends who I knew were going in front of the buses. We worried about where a few of our friends were and I gave them a call, only to be informed they had woken up late and we shouldn't let the bus leave with them. We settled easily into our seats, comfortable chatting with, sleeping next to, listening to music with the person next to us. No obligations. We know we're friends. That's enough.



The only social challenge that the weekend presented to me was who I was rooming with. I had boarded the bus with 3 guy friends and the other friends who I knew were on the trip were also guys. They had banned co-ed rooms. I didn't know any of the girls very well - who would I room with! Luckily, when the bus stopped, a girl that I hang out with often approached me (and the people I always hang out with, who had quickly magnetized and were all standing together) and we got to chatting. She was glad to offer me a spot in my room - phew, crisis averted! Although I realized that I wouldn't necessarily be 100% relaxed in the room - I didn't know the other people very well!

Another picture of the desert! 

After a long hike (in itinerary: a nice, light trek. In reality: literally scaling down cliffs clinging to metal bars and trying not to look down or think about how sweaty your palms are because you are so nervous. One of the guards reminded us that this was an Israeli easy trek, not an American one), we headed to the hostel. A friend had decided to lead a Kabbalat Shabbat service with a few other people. On the first Shabbaton, we had all been kindly invited to go to services. Led by the Orthodox students. Who didn't explain anything. Or take any breaths.

This Shabbat was different. It was the embodiment of why I love Shabbat so much. It was honestly something that I have not experienced since I went to Temple in Denver. But this was even better. It had the community feel that I love at Wesleyan, with (most of) the people that I enjoy here in Israel, with the songs/traditions of home (CO). I knew almost all of the songs/prayers and joined in with abandon! 

The friend who was co-leading took out of the Torah portion for the week a lesson on hospitality and inclusion. He challenged us to break out of the groups of friends that we are comfortable with, to return to the state of freedom experienced during the first Shabbaton, when you could go sit with anyone and they would gladly welcome you to their table. 

This observation and suggestion inspired a fabulous, intense conversation about friendship, how it is formed, why it is formed, how groups grow and change and are affected by time and space and ignorance (definition (according to Mila Kundera, courtesy of a very well-read friend): what you are willing to ignore based on your priorities in that moment).

Picture of people hiking through desert! 

So we all performed a little social experiment. Walking into the dining room, we did the opposite of what we normally do, what everyone else had done: we all sat at different tables. Some people encountered opposition to this and were informed that that seat was being saved. Others were welcomed but were basically ignored throughout most of the conversation. I had a nice time at my table, but initiated the majority of the conversation. Every now and then the people I was sitting with had to explain their inside jokes to me, and when they made plans for the future I was obviously not included. It was very clear that I was just joining them for that moment. The fact that I KNEW that, that I knew I could leave the table and go sit with my normal friends, where I didn't have to try so hard to be charming and engaging and to get to know them made doing so bearable.

Hurrah! Desert! 

The reality is that it is difficult to make friends. It is something most people seem to really require. It is so nice to know who you will spend time with, to get to know their intricacies, their stories, their moods. I am reminded of that whenever I Skype with or facebook chat with people from home - it is so comforting when a friend in the states knows exactly what kind of mood I am based on how I type a single sentence. That state takes time. And here, time is of the essence. So many people are only here in Israel for a short time. This seems to have caused everyone to rush to find their friends, creating a more cliquey, high school environment. There is more gossip and judgment, as that is the best way to draw lines between who you are and who you are not, to solidify alliances (I am especially terrible about this). We are also all in a foreign country. Walking into a world where we are constantly unsure of how things work (if you sit down in a restaurant or wait to be seated, how to get the check, how to speak kind words to someone, how to know what kind of cheese you are buying), it is so IMPORTANT to have some stability. And this seems to manifest itself in groups of friends and in rituals with those people. It is the best way to take on the world, with your arms linked tight with people you know will support you.
We left the social experiment and banded back together. We talked about the flaws in that, the laziness and the weakness. But the strength of hanging out with people we liked and we knew/were getting to know was too strong. And I am OK with that. I am working on pushing myself to meet new people and to welcome them in, but I do find it exhausting.
At Wesleyan, there is a bit more time. I do have a group of friends, but I feel less pressured to spend every second with them (although I love doing that when I can). I guess the rapidity with which we banded together (all in the first week of school) goes to show just how strong this urge to create stability and routine in a new environment truly is.
Regardless, all of this is always shifting. Alliances, judgments, people, friends all change and grow constantly. It is fascinating for me, a lover of social dynamics, to observe this constant shift. I question it, but I rarely to subvert it. Moreso, I enjoy analyzing it. Knowing what role each person plays in the group (the person who can talk to anyone, the beginner of conversations, the originator of judgment). The balance is so delicate and so critical.
I spent tonight, two weeks after the beginning of that discussion, with people I would not normally hang out with. I could feel the tension in my body. It grew more and more uncomfortable to be there, everything felt wrong. The conversation, the way that people interacted with one another, what people talked about. I couldn't stand it. I fled as soon as I could and took solace in the comfortable apartment of friends.