Erica's Krav Maga Training Camp Experience
Erica Abbett - “A tiny Texan with blonde hair” - is an American author and podcaster who flew all the way from Dallas this May 2022 to join our Israel Krav Maga training camp. A couple of days upon finishing the camp, she surprised our team by sending us the below day-by-day synopsis of the camp - “Especially for a place like Israel, it might reassure some people to know that you see far more beaches than bombs.”
We hope you’ll enjoy as much as we did.
Day 1: Tel Aviv
After a lengthy set of flights from Dallas, I’m greeted at the Brown Seaside Hotel with a glass of champagne upon check-in.
Of course I thank the manager profusely and ask his name. “Ike,” he says, pleased at being seen as more than a human check-in stand.
I salute him with my glass and walk to the elevator, where I’m approached by an attractive Israeli. His friend is lounging on a turquoise couch behind him, lazily watching our interaction. “You must be American,” he says. “The accent give it away?” “That, and you’re so nice!” he gestures to Ike.
I shrug, he invites me to a party, and I decline, too polite to point out that after 24 hours on a plane, I’m starting to smell myself. “Maybe I’ll see you later,” I smile and wave.
I head up to my charming seaside suite, where a pithy box of chocolates awaits. “99% of people like chocolate. The other 1% are lying,” the box informs me. It’s not wrong.
I shower, and the newly-connected Wifi informs me that I have approximately 50 messages in our Krav Maga WhatsApp group. Everyone is hanging out at a restaurant/bar on the beach. I strap on my shoes and head to face my new companions/combatants.
Day 2: Tel Aviv
I wake up early, terrified of being late to my first proper day of training. It’s at a gym called Fight TLV across the sidewalk from gorgeous Gordon Beach, hidden beneath a wide set of stairs with a pale limestone landing between each layer.
When I show up, around 15 people are already hanging out outside, many of them brandishing muscles and tattoos, all of them wearing head-to-toe black.
I look down. A tiny Texan with blonde hair, I am wearing a pink Lululemon top. *Face palm* There wasn’t a dress code or anything, but…could I stand out any more?
I approach the two men closest to me. Since I’m regrettably forced to wear tennis shoes for athletic endeavors, both tower 12-15 inches above me (I am a scant 5’0”). They don’t seem to mind, treating me like a regular human rather than a misplaced yoga retreat attendee.
Ron and Jarrod are calling us inside one by one to collect the rest of the camp tuition, pass out shirts, take attendance, etc. which leaves me ample time to mingle with the other attendees.
Everyone has a story, and I’m dying to learn more. There’s the posh Brit who just returned from Afghanistan, where he was doing something healthcare related. He’s also been to Iran and North Korea. “Israeli customs loved me,” he jokes. There’s the head of a high-end fashion company. A professional musician.
A few people, like me, who just thought they’d lose their minds during COVID if they didn’t have something cool to look forward to. People have come from Europe, Australia, Asia…all to train with the best of the best in the home of Krav Maga.
We eventually get started, playing what is essentially two-man tag. It’s warm up, and you try to tap your partner on the stomach, shoulders, or knees while blocking them from doing the same to you. It sounds easy, but it is freaking hard, and all the lateral movement tones your legs beautifully. We move on to punches in the gym, with partners alternating holding bags. At one tip from Ron (throwing back your opposite shoulder to put your whole body into it), I notice my punch get about 50% stronger immediately!
The same goes for kicks. We get lunch somewhere in the middle of all this (there are countless nice cafes near the gym), and close the day in the most perfect way possible: swimwrestling in the Mediterranean Sea. What if someone is trying to drown you? Or you want to play juvenile water games and be the last one standing? Ron teaches us how to dunk your attacker by grabbing their leg, among other crucial skills. Though, to be honest, that part was also just a lot of fun.
Day 3: Ben Shemen Forest
We take a coach to Ben Shemen forest, just outside Tel Aviv. Unlike forests back home, which are dark and insect-infested, this was unlike any forest I’ve seen. The site of ancient battles, tall, skinny trees soar stories high. Since they’re so tall, their leaves and branches are far overhead, providing shade but not getting in the way.
The ground isn’t muddy, but a nice dry, compacted dirt or clay or something (geology is not my strong suit). We practice strikes, then split into teams. Half of us go back to the bus for a lesson on self-defense on public transportation, but a lot of it could be applied to cars, too. Like, if someone comes up from behind and puts a knife to your throat, etc. That’s one of the things I love about this trip -- there’s nothing wrong with gyms, but you can’t really practice this stuff in one, you know?
After an hour or so of throwing each other all over the bus – wrestling between seats and trying to slam each other into walls – we go back outside for weapons training with Jarrod. We answer the important question, what do you do if someone attacks you with a baseball bat, club, or other club-shaped object? There’s a proper Krav Maga defense, and Krav Maga is designed for men and women of all sizes.
But during one particular drill, when I was matched with an opponent so much taller than me it was absurd to think I could get my armpit on his shoulder, Jarrod was like, “If you can’t go over it, go under it. Do whatever works.”
The result? Proudest video of my life:
Day 4: Caesarea
Most. Beautiful. Day. Ever. Period. After visiting the grave of Imi Lichtenfeld, we learned police and law enforcement techniques in a dusty barn, where living legend Master Rafi demonstrated how he can still take on “the biggest guys” one handed.
I kid you not, the guys were talking about it for days after, rubbing their throats and fingers and marveling at how they ended up on their backs at the hands of someone twice their age.
But to me, that wasn’t the best part. That came in the afternoon, when we went to the ancient Roman port city of Caesarea.
A classicist at heart, my spirits soared at the sight of those aqueducts. We went for a brisk jog on the beach, and our route went on top of them!!! I detest running, but I had a ridiculous smile on my face the entire time. Running atop an ancient aqueduct, with the fresh wind of the Mediterranean cooling my brow, what could be more stunning???
After making sure it wouldn’t be disrespectful, I left training a little early to go swimming. I was joined by a few others, which turned into about 10 in the final minutes before the bus left.
IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND FUN! I practiced our water techniques against an impossibly beautiful German man twice my size, getting dunked about four times before we worked together to hone my craft. I am modestly proud to say I dunked him at least twice before it was time to go.
Only 4 days in, we’re already an extremely close group. That happens when you spend your days wrestling and attempting to strangle each other. We’ve already started getting dinner and drinks together after training, usually only staying out until midnight or 1:00, though some of the more adventurous stay out considerably later.
One of my favorite spots is just down the beach from our gym, where white wooden tables and matching chairs rest in the sand, and they give you blankets to keep you cozy as the coolness of the night descends. Glass of wine in hand, candles dancing, you can talk and laugh for hours.
Tonight we go to a delicious vegan restaurant in Florentin, followed by an adorable bar. Upon meeting a Canadian girl, I ask what she’s doing in Israel. “I actually live in Paris,” she says. “And I work for Pinterest?” Her inflection implies I might not know the company. Now that’s modesty! And one of the reasons I love traveling. You just meet such interesting people.
At a mention of my aching feet, my British friend from day one gallantly offers to give me a piggy-back to my hotel (he knows I’m married -- it was a genuinely kind gesture, with no ulterior motive). A few blocks in, a girl we met tonight is stunned to learn we only met a few days ago, since we’re already finishing each other’s sentences like best friends.
Day 5: Jerusalem
This is the day the trip became a lot more somber.
We spent the morning at The Holocaust Museum, and Ron joined us on the tour, telling us of his family’s history.
He said something that really stuck with me about antisemitism: that it manifests in every era, and it adopts the social values of the time. So when religion was all- important, “the Jews killed Jesus.” In an era of rapidly-developing science, the Nazis used eugenics and other pseudo-scientific language to dehumanize Jews. And today, people accuse Israel of being an “apartheid state.”
There are two sides to every issue, but having just taught a lesson on apartheid as a teacher, it was clear that Israel simply isn’t. They keep a tight hand on Gaza and the West Bank, but if their policies were truly based on racism, Arabs and Muslims would be discriminated against in Israel, too. They’re not. They’ve had full rights under Israeli law since its founding. They can vote, hold political office, own businesses, pray whenever they want, and can actually go inside the Dome of the Rock, forbidding Jews entrance, even though it’s also on one of the holiest sites in Judaism.
Contrast that to Gaza, which Israel ceded to Palestinian governance in 2005 in exchange for peace. The Palestinians refused to accept it until every Jew, dead or alive, was gone. There were thousands of Jews who didn’t want to leave and were fine living under a Palestinian government, assuming they’d be treated like the Muslims in Tel Aviv, for instance, but Palestinian leadership refused to let a single Jew remain. The Israelis literally sent in their army to evacuate thousands of Jews from their homes. They had to dig up graveyards and relocate the dead bodies of Jews. Of course, they also had to bulldoze all the synagogues.
I mean...if Israel is an apartheid state, what is Gaza? Digging up graves? That’s like, obsessive compulsive disorder level antisemitism. Israel isn’t perfect, but I don’t really understand why, in this A-B scenario, A is being called an apartheid state when B is insanely racist.
Day 6: Tel Aviv
Yesterday was pretty exhausting, emotionally and physically (we had lunch in the Jerusalem shuk and did more training near the iconic city walls), so today was a bit more laid back...as far as Krav Maga camp goes.
After a lovely morning of pretending to kidnap each other in the park, we went back to Fight TLV for a lesson on tactical first aid and mass casualty management.
“If there’s a knife involved, you’re going to get cut,” every Krav Maga teacher will tell you. OK, but what do you do when the fight is over? How do you deal with your, or someone else’s, injuries?
We learn all about tourniquets, Israeli bandages, and more, finishing the lesson with a drill where half of us were patients and half medics (before switching). To me, it felt like a Civil War movie. “Medic! Medic!” someone cried. “I need pressure on this wound!”
Knowing we have the gauntlet tomorrow, all but the most energetic (foolhardy?) stayed in tonight. I can’t believe it’s almost over!
Day 7: The Gauntlet
Nooooooooo! I don’t want it to end!!!
I mean, I want this interminable run to end. I hate jogging, and I hate sprinting on the shifting sands of a beach even more. But I don’t want the trip to end!
***
I woke up around 4:00 a.m. with two fold dread, both for the harrowing morning ahead and the fact that I’d be leaving that night.
An hour or so later, I found myself running for my life down Tel Aviv’s coastline, the rising sun dispelling the chill of the night. Then came a series of military-style drills from Ron, minus the man-sized backpacks and rifles in our hands. I don’t know how they do it.
Just moving my body, without added weight, was enough! “Sprint to the water! Waist height! Bear crawl back!” “Lay on your back! Link arms! Sit ups!” As the waves crash on top of us. “Plank position! Down! Up! Down! Up!” Waves crashing some more. “Bear crawl back!”
By the end, we were so covered in compacted sand, we looked like schnitzels. That was the easy part.
Our final challenge was a sprint up Wingate Hill – which honestly is practically vertical and made of sand – while being attacked by various assailants about every five feet.
Oh, and Jarrod personalizes your torture right before. Basically everyone had to sprint into the water before doing something else. Some people got burpees. I had to roll over and over down the beach until I was dizzy as fuck, then he yelled, “GO!” and off I went to fight.
It was one of the more humbling experiences of my life. I could barely walk up that thing, let alone spring and defend myself from attackers! Climbing it again later that day, I cut myself some slack. It was a climb where you’re stumbling and grabbing rocks with your hands even when no one’s yelling and trying to fake stab you.
BUT EVENTUALLY WE FINISHED! Time for a picnic and drinks on the beach with new lifelong friends.
I’ll spare you the nightmare of figuring out COVID testing on Shabbat and skip right to the farewell dinner at Ernesto’s.
Most places were closed, so we took over a section of an Italian restaurant, ordering obscene amounts of pasta and limoncello.
And just like that, after a week of being attacked with guns, knives, and sticks, making friends with some of the coolest people in the world, and training with some of the most qualified Krav Maga instructors on earth, it was time to go back to normal life.
So…when can I sign up for next year?
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Erica Abbett
Author | Ahead of Her Time
Podcast | The Vocabbett Podcast
Founder | Vocabbett