University of Wisconsin sophomore Josh Baracha traveled to Israel in high school. This semester, he returned to study abroad, hoping to enjoy the freedom from restrictions that college brings.

He won’t.

Instead of rules and teachers, Baracha is under the control of violence and circumstances.

While Baracha expected a culture change, he never anticipated his life to change this dramatically. Here’s a comparison between Baracha’s everyday experiences in Israel with Syracuse University sophomore Pat Burek’s.

9:00 a.m. — Baracha wakes up to the sound of his buzzing alarm clock. He takes a quick shower and scampers to his door in order to pick up The Jerusalem Post or Ha’ Aretz, the country’s two major newspapers. Before he leaves, Baracha scans the front page headlines. He ignores the sports, the comics and the crosswords and scrutinizes the stories on the front page, taking in every word about the previous day’s events. On Monday the story focuses on politics. On Tuesday, an Israeli offensive.

‘Every day it’s a different story,’ Baracha said. ‘This day it’s a suicide bomber. That day it’s something else. Everyone talks about what’s in the paper. Because of the day-to-day violence you read it every day.’

Baracha contrasts the news interest with that at the University of Wisconsin, where few students read the paper religiously.

‘My first semester people read the paper,’ Baracha said. ‘But it’s not like everybody read it everyday.’

9:40 a.m. — Baracha leaves his dorm room at Hebrew University and heads for his classes. The short trek to the main campus is relatively safe. The university, which sits a five-minute cab ride from downtown Jerusalem, hasn’t seen any of the violence that is prevalent in the area.

Although Baracha said most students feel safe walking around the campus, uneasiness still resides within them. Helicopters and airplanes hum in the distance and students wonder whether another attack is underway. Some of the loudest suicide bombings have echoed throughout the campus. Even a routine noise can startle students.

‘It’s usually like a quiet neighborhood,’ Baracha said. ‘But then you hear strange things like the planes and helicopters. Even when you hear the garbage being picked up, which happens like 12 feet from my dorm room, you wonder for a second.’

10:00 a.m. — Baracha takes Hebrew and at noon begins his international crisis behavior class. But before he gets to class, or even onto campus, he’s stopped by a security team made up of university-hired guards, soldiers and police. His bags are searched for weapons and explosives and he’s marched through a metal detector.

Teachers take advantage of the hour-and-a-half-long classes to relate to students’ worries and concerns. Like the students, most teachers live in Jerusalem, read the same newspapers and hear the same noises. With small class sizes, teachers are able start classes by asking if each of their students is OK, and if each has any questions or concerns.

‘I don’t think a day goes by where one teacher or another doesn’t mention it and make sure we’re all-right,” Baracha said. “Because the classes are small, we really get to trust them.’

The number of students that teachers have to relate to, however, is dwindling. One girl that sat behind Baracha isn’t in class anymore. Neither is a boy who used to sit across the room.

‘We started off with hundreds of students,’ Baracha said. ‘Now there’s way under 100. Lots of kids have left since (the violence) started getting worse.’

10:30 a.m. — In Syracuse, it’s Pat Burek’s light day so he wakes up late, showers and brushes his teeth before his international relations class. He lives on South Campus so he waits five minutes at the bus stop before catching a ride to main campus.

He grabs a paper at the bus stop or when he steps off, but quickly flips to the sports section. If he has extra time he’ll read the news. Most days he reads USA Today on its Web site.

‘I don’t really check local news too much,’ Burek said. ‘Whatever I get to in The (Daily Orange) and then I’ll check Syracuse.com on occasion.”

Noon – Burek steps into his international relations class. His teacher, Professor Francine D’Amico, lectures daily, fitting current events into her speeches as she sees fit.

Throughout the semester, D’Amico has related a number of current events to topics and concepts in her lectures. Most have related to the Middle East. But unlike Baracha’s instructors, D’Amico has little reason to be concerned with how her students are holding up with the pressures that the conflicts bring. After all, her students are thousand of miles away from Israel.

‘We talk about concepts and issues and how they relate to her lecture,’ Burek said. ‘But it’s a lecture. Not a discussion.’

After class, Burek wanders over to Schine Student Center, popping in for a quick lunch of pizza or chicken tenders before his Newspaper 205 class.

The meal usually doesn’t last long. Burek doesn’t stand more than five minutes in line before being served and sitting down at a square table.

2:00 p.m. — Baracha attends History of Israel Since 1973. The class is taught by Dr. Meron Medzini, a spokesman for several former Israeli prime ministers.

Medzini often takes questions from the students, giving his views on what will transpire in Israel both politically and militarily. Last week, Medzini was forced to cancel a class trip to Golan because Lebanon was firing rockets into Northern Israel. He has advised students about which roads to avoid, safe places to visit and to avoid all forms of public transportation. No one takes buses in Jerusalem, Baracha says.

On April 17, when the Israelis celebrated the creation of the State of Israel, Medzini suggested his students avoid crowded areas and partaking in the traditional celebratory activities.

‘Usually downtown Jerusalem is packed,’ Baracha said. ‘Usually everyone goes. This year it was a lot smaller.’

Baracha spent the day at the ocean with his friends. Beer and bonfires illuminated the police cars and army vehicles patrolling the beach.

Baracha’s next class is the history of Islam where he learns how the religion, which people connect with Israel’s enemies, has developed.

Unfortunately, for the past two weeks, Baracha has been with a student teacher. The normal professor was among 20,000 reserves called to the West Bank during the latest offensive.

‘The main thing people should take from that class is learning that not every Arab is bad as they were portrayed after Sept. 11,’ Baracha said. ‘There are millions who follow the religion peacefully.’

7:00 p.m. — Baracha begins to think about how he’ll feed himself. He has two options. Visit a local restaurant or pick up something at the local market. Last night, Baracha munched on macaroni and cheese, which he made in the kitchen of his dorm room. While macaroni and cheese isn’t quite an Israeli delicacy, Baracha said students often snack on falafel and other native foods.

Getting the ingredients to make such foods, however, can be an ordeal. Markets are protected by armed guards, while soldiers holding M-16 machine guns and police gripping rifles stop citizens at random checkpoints.

‘People are even worried going to local markets,’ Baracha said. ‘It’s not a stupid worry like aliens attacking. It could happen any day, anyplace, at anytime.’

Restaurants also post guards and tack 10 shekels, or the equivalent of about $2 in the United States, onto the bill for protection. The guards usually don’t thoroughly search individuals but ask customers to remove their coats or unzip them to prove that they don’t have explosives strapped to their bodies.

‘It seems worse on TV in America,’ Baracha said. ‘This is how people have always lived here. It shows you where you are. You have to pay $2 just to have someone sit outside.’

7:30 p.m. — After getting back from visiting friends in DellPlain Hall and his newswriting class, Burek begins to plan how he’ll spend the evening. First a nap to rest up for the night ahead. Then maybe a movie. Between 10 or 11 p.m. he’ll invite people over or scour South Campus for a party. Burek said most of his friends live on South, so he normally spends Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights at parties near his apartment.

‘It’s very convenient,’ Burek said. ‘You just walk, even ride down the road and you’re there. No problem.’

The furthest Burek has to travel for enjoyment is to a house near main campus.

Despite the attention that crime on the Syracuse campus has received since the murder of Simeon Popov earlier this year, Burek insists he’s never concerned with personal safety.

‘I feel safe,’ Burek said. ‘I know violence happens here but I don’t stress about it. I just go about my way.’

8:00 p.m. — Because the Jewish Sabbath is celebrated on Saturday rather than Sunday, Baracha said Wednesdays, not Thursdays and Fridays, are big bar nights in Israel. But since violence between Israelis and Palestinians has increased, students are wary about traveling into downtown Jerusalem. Baracha said many bars and clubs catering to American students have closed because of a lack of customers.

‘Downtown Jerusalem would definitely be the place to be,’ Baracha said. ‘But it’s kind of like a ghost town now.’

Instead, students spend the majority of their nights watching TV and downing beers in dorm rooms. When students do go out, they avoid Jerusalem and instead travel to Tel Aviv, which is not normally visited by the violence brought on by suicide bombers and invading armies. Some students travel even further for a weekend out.

Baracha went to Turkey a month ago, visited Egypt on his spring break and plans on flying to Amsterdam this weekend.

‘Normally what I’ve heard from friends who have gone abroad is that they don’t give you much homework so you can enjoy the culture,’ Baracha said. ‘Now everyone’s too afraid to go out and enjoy it.’

Published on April 23, 2002 at 12:00 pm