Wedding updates

So to goal is to have the major things set by Chanukah-- hall, band, photographer. Dress I'm going to work on in NY; I want to try my sister's.

We're getting there. The wedding is going to be a couple weeks before Pesach, apparently in continuation of his unofficial family tradition (his siblings got married also a couple weeks before Pesach).

So in Israel (and in the Jewish world in general, but in Israel it stands out even more) there are different Rabbis who give kosher certification. We have guests from all spectrums of Judaism, and we want to make sure that everyone can eat everything at the wedding. Which is a lot of fun (and I say that with a heavy dose of sarcasm, in case you missed that). So...yeah...that's a huge stressor, because we need to find a place that everyone can eat at.

Photographer and band-- there are so many great options. We know that we really want the pictures to be good, because that's what's going to last. Band-- neither of us really have a strong opinion either way. There is someone who his mom got in touch with who they like and I heard a few clips and it sounds fine. There are two otehr bands I want to check out, but as long as the band doesn't sound BAD-- I'm fine with it.

And so it continues.

Wedding Planning part II

Last week Eli and I went with his mom to look at a few places in Beit Shemesh. But if we're going to have to get a ha'sa'ah (bus) anyway, we might as well go to Mitzpe Yericho, which I think is beautiful and already like. And it's near-ish to Jerusalem. We're going to look at some halls in Talpiyot, but the catch is there is a minhag that his family holds by to not have live music within Jerusalem because of a plague...anyway, but Talpiyot is considered outside of Jerusalem for that purpose, so there is fine.

We need to find a photographer, a band, and I need a hair/makeup person (or people). Suggestions are welcome.

Wow. I'm getting married.

We went to a store today because I found these really awesome dishracks that I got for my apartment, and we got them. Our first purchase for our home. Milchig and fleishig-- we want to get a different kind (fold-up) for pareve.

Weddings, Israeli style

I called my house in NY today and talked to my mom about flights to NY over Chanukah. She asked me if Eli was going to bring a suit to NY, and I told her that we had discussed it and...we're Israeli. Israelis don't do suits. But Eli actually is thinking about getting one in NY, because they're better quality there.

I should probably back up now and explain who Eli is. Eli is my-- ok, big word here-- chatan [fiancee]. It's hitting me slowly...I'm getting married.

We're so right. His sister is the one who set us up, and as she put it, "You get him and he gets you." Everyone else saw this but us. Isn't that fantastic?

I'm whelmed.

More on this later when I can process and as I go through this next stage in my aliyah and klitah: Getting Married and Building a Bayit Ne'eman B'Yisrael B'Yisrael [A True House of Israel in Israel].

Here goes.

Kever Rachel

In commemoration of Rachel Imenu's [our foremother Rachel's] yahrtzeit, there have been lots of buses running to Kever Rachel [Rachel's tomb]. So I went with a couple of my co-workers after we finished work.

It wasn't as packed as I thought it would be-- there was actually some room to walk around. When we left there was a giant truck with cold drinks and a station for coffee and rugelach. I wasn't able to take a picture, but next to each drink (you know the drink machines that you open the spout and just put your cup under? -well, maybe reverse the order- Those.) there was a sign of what/who to have in mind as you made the bracha [blessing]-- for example, a speedy recovery for so-and-so, etc.. Only in Israel.

There were tons of people handing out leaflets and small prayer booklets and asking for tzedekah.

Happy Moments in The Life of an Olah

#758324972: Hearing people in your school speak in Hebrew and it not being strange or feeling the least bit odd.

That makes me smile.

What Would You Do?

There is a letter going around, written by a naval commando:

If, God forbid, I arrive at a situation where a terrorist organization shall take me prisoner, I ask of you: Do not protest, do not give interviews, do not tell share how much it hurts you, do not have festivals in my name. Every novice salesman knows: that is not how you lower the price.
I am NOT “everyone’s child.” I am a warrior who has fallen captive.
Do NOT turn me into a tool: I do not want the whole world to know who my identity and my name at a time when nobody remembers the soldier who was killed by my side. I do not want the press to make rounds about me, I do not want to turn into a political axe used for digging political agendas, power games, and manipulations. I do not want to be the entry door for the “Israeli consensus.” I am not ready for the idea that my release will turn into a dogma that cannot be reconsidered. I do not want those who dare think differently to have their mouths shut. I do not want the press to use me to raise their ratings, and I do not want singers to write songs in order to improve their results in Google.
I am not a milk carton: do not make a logo out of my picture, do not make my face your profile picture, do not make my shadow into a slogan. Do not hire PR firms in order to manipulate public opinion and the opinion of those who make decisions. Do not establish a creative team, an optimization team, a marketing team, a staff, or work meetings with cookies and presentations. Do not make a brainstorming team or create a tide of public opinion. Do not build a PR budget and market penetration. Do not sketch strategies. Do not divide the public into graphs and tables. I do not want “expert panels,” I do not want conventions, I do not want them to count the number of days I have been sitting prisoner, I do not want depression contractors to make a career out of my story. Do not produce pins and flags and ties and shirts in my name. Do not make parades and demonstrations and protest signature booths on campuses. It lowers my chances of being released and it throws sand in the eyes of the decision makers. I am not a reality show: do not come to take a picture with my father as a souvenir at the time when thousands of murderers are being released for me. I do not want the blue and white flag to be raised at a time when the entire atmosphere screams white flag. I do not want to see a cold blooded murderer of sixteen people be released with a smile, especially just several years after he gave the victory sign to the victims’ families in court. I am not ready that hundreds of families who just recently buried babies should explode in fury and be called in public the “party poopers.” I am not ready that a boy who went to eat pizza with his mother, father, and three brothers—and came back alone, should watch a murderer eat baklawa in a victory hut twenty kilometers away from him. I do not want murderers who are released to East Jerusalem to ride the train together with my niece. I do not want families whose entire world has collapsed to hear that the murderer of their loved one has gone to Club Med in Turkey. I do not want their pain should receive an eighth of a page just before the sports section because it is “proper reporting.” They already know that the blood of their children is cheap. You do not need to trample on their hearts and twist your foot while you are at it. It really comforts me that the president says that he pardons but does not forgive. I do not want the next Intifada to be named after me.

Sincerely,
Y., Naval Commando

It's a funny thing...people go to the army knowing in the back of their minds that-- they could die. But that doesn't happen to most people, so it is able to go to the back.

I think that everyone in Israel knows someone or is someone who has lost a relative or friend in an act of war or terrorism. That's a pretty sobering thought when you actually stop and think about it.

I know that I would want everything done for me if I was, G-d forbid, captured and held. But...I think...I would rather be held, and, yes, die than let terrorists with blood on their hands go free and go kill more than they have already killed. On the other hand, my family and friends would probably want anything to be done in order to get me out and they probably would not like my stance.

נכנס עייפות, יוצא כל מיני...לילה טוב, עולם. Good night, world.

Overwhelmed by emotion and don't know what to do

I am so overwhelmed by conflicting emotions and I can't...separate them.

Gilad is home. After five and a half years, he is home. He has been welcomed by everyone, and no one is angry at Gilad for the trade that happened. Amazing, isn't it? Everyone is happy that he's home, alive.

Terrorists with actual blood on their hands were let free to redeem one person, one soldier, one Israeli. No one is mad at Gilad, no one is angry at him. At the government, at the army, at the president and prime minister for letting out mass murderers who will kill again, and are already inciting and planning to kill more Jews and Israelis-- yes. But I don't think there is anyone who is not happy that Gilad is back home.

I sent an sms to an Arab former coworker (he switched areas of practice), who lives in Silwan, asking him what it was like in his neighborhood. He said that it was crazy, and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to get home (he was at work). Nothing like that here-- people in Mitzpe Hila I'm sure had lots of street closures, but no riots.

I'm terrified of what is going to happen now that these 1027 terrorists have been let out and while not all of them have been allowed back to where they came from, they will still do their evil work from wherever they are.

That's the conflict: Joy over Gilad being back; Anger at the government for allowing so many murderers to go free; Fear of what will happen now that these terrorists are free and able to get back to attacking freely.

I pray that Gilad will be able to sleep tonight, in his own bed, peacefully, back in his home. May he be able to move past the hell that was the past 1,941 days and nights and continue his life in health, happiness, and peace from here on.

He's home

After 5-and-a-half years, he's home.

I am amazed at and by the country in which I live.

Feeling...unknown quantity

There is another post in the queue, but that one is going to take a little longer than this one.

Gilah Shalit is coming home. After 5 years, he is finally going to be home. And in exchange, Israel is releasing 1000 terrorists.

I am so happy he's coming home (the cynic in me is waiting to rejoice until he is actually back), and the other part of me is going, "So this is the new tactic...kidnap an Israeli, wait 5 years, then get 1000 prisoners released to go kill again."

I don't know what I feel. I do, actually: Confused.

Love and the Country

Please note the poorly executed play on "Sex and the City." I admit-- not that good. I try...no, I didn't try that hard.

I talk with my friends, friends of friends, random people, read other blogs, follow my friend's Facebooks. One thing that has been coming up a lot lately is the topic of love and relationships and the existences or lack thereof.

I live in "the Beitzah," which means "the swamp" and is how people refer to the Katamon area with lots and lots of singles, both Israeli and Anglo. It's kind of equivalent to the Upper West Side or Washington Heights in NY. And it is swampy, implying the getting stuck in and hard to get out of.

One of the things that has been insanely frustrating is, as always, "the same people are at everything." But in order to "get in" you have to know someone." And then you are friends with that person, and unfortunately too often have meals, go to parties, and hang out with the same peopel. Friends have friends, but often it's the same people. Also, the Israeli and Anglo worlds often are separate. Frustrating.

I don't know how to expand my circle-- people don't necessarily go up and say hi to people they don't know, or invite randome people over.

As I continue in my meals with the same people, I leave you with...challah. At least that's what I claim as my specialty and bring to...well..most meals becasue...well...people know it and like it.

Onwards.

Yom Kippur Thoughts

Erev Yom Kippur night there were selichot [special prayers that are recited, asking for forgiveness] at the Kotel [Western Wall] with HaRav Shlomo Amar and Harav Ovadiah Yosef [Chief Sephardi Rabbi of Israel and former Chief Sephardi Rabbi of Israel/current spiritual leader of the Shas political party in Israel]. The place was PACKED. I was there on shift with Magen David Adom and from about midnight on it was hopping-- I know I took out about 3 people, plus was treating in the tent. The annoying thing was that my ambulance left without me, which meant that I got home at 4 instead of 2:30-ish. Meh.

So-- Yom Kippur. I don't know how successful it was from G-d's perspective, but when YK ended I felt...good.

And one of the best parts? Between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur the buses said "Chatimah tovah," which is the traditional greeting for that time period.

Rosh Hashana thoughts

First thought: Thank goodness we don't have 3-day chagim here, besides Rosh Hashana.

Now for the more serious, reflective thoughts.

On Wednesday, Erev Rosh Hashana, before I left Jerusalem for the holiday, I went to the Kotel [the Western Wall], which is actually part of the retaining wall around the Temple courtyard, and the physical remnant that we have today of what was. It's a holy place, a very holy place. On the way there, something strange happened to me. People always talk about Jerusalem air feeling different, or there being a different atmosphere/feeling in Jerusalem on Shabbat [the Sabbath] and holidays, but I don't really feel it (maybe I'm spoiled because I live here?). This year I wasn't feeling the whole "ok, Rosh Hashana is coming" thing-- really, until Wednesday. When I walked out of my building I felt something-- almost like an anticipation in the air. And when I got to the Old City, as I walked into the Jewish quarter, I actually felt a change. Like I walked through an invisible barrier that nobody told me about and the atmosphere felt different. Holier, waiting, anticipating, a little more busy somehow.

I walked to the Kotel with that feeling and it struck me as strange that the Kotel was so empty. Ok, it was-- what? 12:30 on Erev Rosh Hashana-- but still...On the upside, I found a spot by the Kotel quickly. I davened. I just needed to be there-- I hadn't been since I got back from NY, and I missed it.

I feel like I kind of wonder, "Where did Rosh Hashana go?" It kind of just...passed.

So a bracha [blessing] for this new year that has just begun: May we be blessed with health, happiness, financial stability, the realization of dreams that we didn't even know existed, the strength to overcome the challenges that come our way, and-- peace. Both in the world overall, and within ourselves. May my small country be blessed with peace, safety, the ability to defend ourselves without international criticism (until peace happens) appropriate rainfall and may all the captives be returned home.

Shana tova u'metuka, u'mevorachat [a good, sweet, and blessed year].

Family, Relationships, and Being 6000 Miles Away When Your New Niece is Born

I have a new niece. Her name is Smushy (according to her Doda Lauren, that is; other family members call her by the name on her birth certificate). She is adorable and wonderful...and 6000 miles away. Which sucks.

When I moved here, I had one niece who was old enough to look at me on the computer, identify me by sight, and semi-carry a conversation. Our conversations have since progressed to playing hide-and-seek, making faces at each other, and her telling me about her day. Smushy can't do that yet; as an infant, she knows people by voice (sound), smell, and feel, mostly the middle and last ones now. I won't be seeing my niece until she's about 9 months old (assuming I go back to NY for the summer like I plan to). I held Squishy the day she was born; Smushy is going to be 9 months old before I hold her or see her in real life, and she might not even let me hold her because she won't know me. That really, really sucks; my own niece who I love so much not even knowing me.

I knew that at some point this would happen. I don't expect my family and friends to stop living their lives because I'm not there, but each time something big happens there, it hurts and it's hard. I'm happy here, I really am. It's just hard when life events happen without you there.

I don't even want to think about when more family and friends get engaged, married, and have kids and I won't be there.

This was depressing. Sorry. But this is one of the hardest-hitting and most bringing-you-down-to-reality, if you will, parts of making aliyah without all of your family and friends.

A thought on terrorism

I was watching a video set to "Little Did She Know [She Kissed a Hero]" by Kristy Jackson when I was struck by something.

September 11 is THE defining event in American history for terrorism, when America became a target and she had her terrorism on her mainland soil. There is no ONE defining event for that in Israel. Israel is, for good or for bad (and for lack of a better word), used to terrorism. In Israel it's a part of daily life; not that there are bombs going off every day, thank G-d, but in that you're a little more aware and a little more alert in general. But there is no ONE defining moment that people can say, "This event brought home the concept of terror." In Israel everyone has his or her own event that has defined terrorism for him or her. Kind of scary.

9/11-- 10 years

I was in school when the Towers were hit and fell. We had just finished davening and were going to our first period classes.

The Brooklyn buses said something about the Twin Towers being hit by a plane, but it was on Z100 and they were never serious, but...really? Why would they say THAT?

So we went to our classes, and we started hearing more. I turned my walkman on to 1010 WINS (an AM news station) and they were saying the same thing...so it was true... Mrs. Brand (the principal) made an announcement over the loudspeaker to bring our siddurim to the multipurpose room; I wondered if that was how Israelis felt when there was an attack, but I also thought that this was a much larger scale than any attack there. We didn't have classes the rest of the day. People whose parents and other family members were in the area were calling and trying to get through-- I made sure that my Dad wasn't downtown that day, because sometimes he worked downtown. He wasn't.

At first the bridges were closed so all of the Queens girls were offering to have non-Queens people stay over, but they they opened the bridges. On the way back to the my house I saw a huge column and plume of black smoke where Manhattan was-- that was it, just thick black and dark grey smoke.

The news was the same for two days-- same video clips, same audio bites, same images. Occasionally a press conference here, a new clip there. Eventually I shut it off. The city literally shut down.

They were asking for blood donations, but I was too young to donate. Turned out they had more than enough blood, because so many people died and didn't need it.

It's been 10 years, and I still remember there were lines at the pay phones and people trying to get through to families, and my friend's relief when she found out that her father who was there was okay. I can still see the smoke and remember how it felt to not be able to see Manhattan, just a darkness where it should have been.

Brucha ha'shava!

Or, I'm back!

Got in Tuesday morning at about 6:30, was at work by about 10, got home, napped for an hour and went to sleep at a slightly-later-than-I-would-have-liked 1:30 am, and went to work today also.

It is time for me to go to bed, because tomorrow is the first day of school at my new school! Wish me luck!

Stormwatch 2011: Irene

Storm hit. Not too much damage in my area, although there was significant damage from fallen trees and flooding-- lots of flooding. A sinkhole actually opened up in my general area and cars fell in. Oops.

I predicted that my flight would be 3-12 hours delayed. As of this morning it was on-time, despite the airport being closed. I kept checking the airline website, and once I saw that the later Sunday flights were canceled I called the airline to find out what was going on with my flight. They said it was still on time and would be leaving as planned.

Well, I then read a news reports (actually, two) said that the airports were closed and would remain closed until Monday afternoon, possibly even Tuesday morning. So I called again. This time I got to a wonderful agent who told me that, yes, my flight was on time and there was even a flight leaving Tel Aviv that would get to the airport around 5 am. He insisted this, despite the Port Authority's statement that the airports were closed.

At about 5 pm I got a message that my flight was delayed until 1300 the next day. Kol hakavod ElAl, for realizing that your planes cannot fly in/out of a closed airport. So I went out to see my Bubby and Zaidy and then some other friends. Yay for getting to see people!

More later.

Storm watch

Yeah, so I might not be back in time to go to my schools before school starts in a week...great way to start the year off in a new school.

On the upside, I am not upset about having more time with my family here.

מתעצבנת על העולם- Annoyed at the world

I have four more days here, including Shabbos. So really, about 3.5 (counting Friday and motza"sh as one).
I. Am. Screwed. There is no way that all my stuff that I'm planning on taking will fit into my suitcases, even with being overweight. So I guess I'm leaving a bunch of it here (mostly seforim, reading books, cookbooks, and textbooks, all which would be good to have), which is annoying but I will live. It could be worse-- I could have only one suitcase.

Oh, and did I mention that there is a hurricane that may affect (read: delay) my flight? Fan-tas-tic.

From my actual journal

I have this blog, but I also have an actual handwritten journal that spans a few notebooks. I started journaling in college, often using the back of a small notebook that I carried for last-minute reminders, shopping lists, packing lists, and recipes. Those backs of notebooks have since been upgraded to their own notebooks, and my journal now spans multiple notebooks.

This was written earlier this evening (there are occasional translations that I put in, which are translations and are not in my actual journal. They are marked. Other than that, it's exactly how it is written in my journal):

August 21, 2011- 9:39 pm- 96 st.- waiting for the 2 home
Home. Always that funny (not really) word followed-- accompanied by-- a feeling of duality and confusion. Oh joy.
But that wasn't the point of this.
I'm on my way back from a date. Date was nice and it would be nice to see this guy again. But he's not planning on making aliyah in the near future. [Note to self: (a) Just because someone served in the Israeli army doesn't mean they want to live there; (b) Doesn't mean they speak Hebrew; (c) Ask that question BEFORE you ask them out. End note.]
We kind of were leaving it as, it would be nice to go out again- maybe before I go back. But I didn't think feel that was right, because I know that I want to live in Israel. I could live in the US-- or somewhere outside of Israel-- for a bit, but I want to raise my family there. Despite the educational system which I hate. No, hate is too strong a word-- it should be reserved for things that deserve it-- like Hamas, Hezbollah, and Ahmadinejad. Anyway. Digression.
I was walking down the hill in VV this past Shabbos and I thought, "Well-- what if I get married and moved to America for a year or two?" And felt like I was going to cry. Actually cry. Doesn't really make sense, but I feel like I want my shana rishona [edit that was not in my journal: shana rishona = first year, referring to the first year of marriage] to be...not holy, that's not the right word- But I want it to be in Israel.
Anyway, so I didn't feel it was right, blah-blah, but I felt that an explanation was warranted. So I told him about the person who I could have married, had I stayed here. And I felt myself getting very quiet-- not my voice, because I still need that conviction to remind myself and help myself recognize that it was right-- but I think-- for the first time I felt a measure of peace with that decision. It still isn't total at-peace with the decision, but it's the most שלם [edit that was not in my journal: That word transliterates to "shah-laym," which in Hebrew litereally means "wholeness," but when someone is "shalem" with something it means they've kind of made peace with it and they're ok with it] I've felt with it in two years. Just amazing.

I think it's good I took the train home tonight. Writing is good for me.


10:20 pm:
Even if I could live here-- I've changed-- too much, I think, for him. He still loves the pre-aliyah Lauren, and that's not who I am now. זה מה שיש [edit that was not in my journal: Those words transliterate to, "zeh mah sheh-yesh," which in Hebrew means, "that's what there is," kind of like, "it is what it is."

Double-U. Tee. Eff.

In case some of you missed the news, there were multiple coordinated terror attacks today in Southern Israel. Here is Google News' roundup (pretty large selection, and not half-bad). To make it a little clearer: The attacks were aimed at a passenger bus, a group of soldiers, and private (civilian) cars. The current death toll from those fired on is 8. That would be 8 too many people.

The recording of the call as it was received by Magen David Adom (EMS) here




I'm not usually a political person and really prefer to have as little to do with politics as possible (and I moved to Israel from NY, where it doesn't really matter what I vote, it's a Democratic state...why?) but this makes me mad. Pissed off. My friend who lives in the South where missiles and rockets are fired at pretty much every day put this message on her facebook status: A mis queridos vecinos en Gaza, ESTA NOCHE ME GUSTARIA DORMIR. gracias. [My dear neighbors in Gaza, TONIGHT I WANT TO SLEEP. thank you.]" I don't live in the South, nor do I get woken up by sirens warning me of impending missile/rocket arrivals. But my friends do. Other people living in that area do.

Israel struck back today, and 7 terrorists who did this are dead. But for those 7, there are 7,000 (yes, I meant that number-- there are probably 70,000, but hey...) more to continue what those 7 started. And that, dear readers, is what my country deals with.



But is Israel safe? The answer is, yes. I am more scared that something will happen to me here in NY than in Israel. I don't fear the terrorists-- I don't remember who said it, but "Every bullet has its destination." If I'm going to. G-d forbid, be injured or killed-- it doesn't matter if I'm in NY, Israel, or Japan. Also, the attacks that are prevented aren't on the news. But it doesn't scare me to live in Israel.

I was walking with my friend yesterday by Union Square, and the was a suitcase just sitting there in the middle of the pedestrian plaza area. I turned to my friend (who is also Israeli) and said, "What does that say about me if I saw that suitcase and my first reaction was to call the police?" And then we just laughed and continued walking, not giving it a second thought (a person came and took it anyway). Like I said in a previous post-- it's an extra or heightened awareness to something that looks off. Not fear.

Relationship changes, II

Again-- another follow up that I didn't plan.

On A Soldier's Mother, she posted this about moments that she had with her son during the army, when she would take him to/from base and conversations that they would have.
I started reading the blog again (aka, when I remember...?) and replied to that post with the following comment: "Secret that Eli(e) isn't going to tell you, because I wouldn't say it to my parents-- it's just one of those things we (kids) don't really say because it opens up a certain vulnerability that we don't want to admit we have: despite being technically grown-ups, we still need you (parents) and value what you have to say as long as it's not forced on us.
But those times that you (parents) give us (kids) rides and there's no pressure like you just say, "Hey, want a ride?" just to make our lives easier even though we could be fine without it-- those are the best times for conversations that we remember. We might not remember what we talked about, but just having the conversations is what we appreciate. And we actually listen despite the "Imma/Abba/Mom/Dad!" and eye-rollings."


On Wednesday or Friday-- I don't remember which-- I was actually just thinking that I'm really going to miss when my dad drives me to work. He gives me a ride because it's convenient for me because I can leave later, he has the time in the morning, I don't have to worry about parking which is nearly impossible by my work, and he still has the car for the day. What I haven't told him is that as nice as the ride is, I really value the time that we have during those short rides and the conversations we have then. It takes about 10 minutes for him to take me to school, which is the prefect amount of time for a conversation-- not too long. Sometimes not long enough, but in those cases it just means that we have a topic for the next day.

Those moments with my dad are some nice quality father-daughter time and not moments that I share with anyone else-- they're special. I did fieldwork near my dad's office, and sometimes he would leave earlier in the morning to get me there on time or he would pick me up on the way from work and give me a ride home. Usually he drives, but when I was learning to drive he would let me drive but we'd still talk. I have now developed the habit of telling him when I see anything in the road that could potentially be a hazard, usually at least half a block in advance, but hey-- that's the risk I run for learning to drive with my dad.

Relationship changes

A conversation that took place earlier online today (with grammatical edits only):
Friend: Don't you worry that people you write about on your blog will read it? Or is that the point?
Me: ?

Friend: You write about wishing you were closer to this person or that
Me: No, I don't mind. I'm deliberately keeping it as anonymous as it can be (no name, no location other than not in Israel, no gender), but I don't censor that much about being an olah and my aliyah process, and a very real (and hard) part of that is friendships changing

A very real part of making aliyah, and what is the hardest part for me besides the financial uncertainty, is leaving family and friends. Since I made aliyah I have made new friends and gained new families, but that doesn't minimize the hardship and pain of the changes in the relationships with my family an friends that I left in America.

Here are the "Things I Can't Do Anymore With Family/Friends That I Miss"
Calling my sisters during the middle of the day
Taking the train and/or bus and seeing my sister and her family and playing games with my niece in person
Taking the train and/or bus and going to see my grandparents and seeing how happy it makes them to see me
Seeing my little sister almost every day
Just being with my little sister
Driving to work with my dad
Doing errands with my mom
Walking home phone calls with Sara
Girls nights with Chari
Shabbos in the Heights
Peanut noodle leftovers
Cupcakes from Julie
Going to my friends houses or just meeting up for a couple of hours

There are a lot more things, but these are the first ones that come to mind quickly.

It doesn't really get easier with time. You learn how to make this new kind of relationship work. Phones, email/internet, digital pictures and video, video chats, and other communication methods make it easier to stay in touch but I still feel the changes significantly, and that hurts. It's hard to have all those changes in all your relationships at once. Really hard.

I wonder what it's like for friends and family of olim? Any "friends and family" reading this who want to comment? What are some of the things you've found hard, and what do you do about them? Have you created new...rituals or..."things" to still maintain that bond?

Where is Home?, Part III

I didn't think there was going to be a part III to this post-- there were only supposed to be two parts.

I got back from shul a little while ago and I've been reading and watching Tisha B'av-appropriate articles and videos. One of the pictures someone posted was a picture she took at the Kotel a few hours ago, and it's women and girls sitting or standing at the Kotel. One of the videos that someone posted was from the expulsion from Gush Katif. Those two pieces were when I started getting teary. Before then, the articles I was reading, the other videos I was watching-- ok, fine. But when I saw that, all I could think was, "I want to go home."

I just sent one of my friends a message saying, "i want to go home.

you dont have to say anything, there isnt really anything to say. i just needed to say that." (poor grammar and all...hey, it's instant messaging...) That person is very important in my life, but because I live in Israel and this person does not, I do not get to see or talk to that person as much as I would like. It still makes me sad that that relationship isn't what it was when I lived in NY and it will continue to have that distance, but what I said very much rings true-- I want to go home. Meaning Israel, meaning Jerusalem, meaning the Kotel. Right now there's no where I want to be more than sitting on the floor at the Kotel with hundreds of other people, mourning the Beit Hamikdash and the loss that we have.



I think I just got my answer, didn't I?

May we all be zoche [merit] to see Jerusalem and the Beit Hamikdash [Holy Temple] be rebuilt, speedily in our days, amen! And may the Mashiach [Messiah] come and bring redemption soon, in our days, amen!

And to all those who are fasting, have an easy and a meaningful fast.

Where is Home?, Part II

I define home as “the place I lose my cell phone.” I think that’s because I lose my cell phone in places that I am comfortable in—I just put it down…and eventually find it again (which is why I almost always have my phone on the loudest ring, because that way I’ll hear it when I am trying to find it).

As an olah, I have had the opportunity to acquire a few new living spaces over the past year and a half. The first was where I went straight from the airport when I made aliyah. The next was my apartment (dorm) in ulpan, and the third is the apartment I currently live in. Home is where I can go and I don’t have to give any explanations of why I’m holed up in my room and just go out to get something from the kitchen or go to the bathroom. Home is where I can go over to my family members/roommates and say, “I need a hug.” Or “I just need to be alone.” Or don’t necessarily have to say anything, but they just understand.

Home is where I go when I need to be with family, either biological or adopted.

Home is also a country, a city.

I’m American, and more than that, I’m a New Yorker, a Bronxite. I am a Yankee fan by heritage/birth, and Brooklyn is the enemy. Staten Island is closer to New Jersey than to me, and it’s not New Jersey, it’s just “Jersey.” The city, meaning Manhattan, is always “downtown,” and when I go back to the Bronx I go “uptown.” And, no, I don’t know “Jenny from the block.” My neighborhood is not bad—while the entire Bronx may have the reputation of the South Bronx, it is not the entirety of the borough and I do not fear my life when I walk out of my house. The MTA manages to screw up half of the subway lines on a weekly basis, and does unbelievably stupid things with trains that run on the same lines, such as not running one of the trains "due to track work." Or running a shuttle 5 train from the first stop to a transfer stop, then a train from the transfer stop to another large stop where they're running the 5 train (please note, the train that is between the shuttle and the second large stop runs on the same tracks as the 5).

I’m Israeli, a Jerusalemite. I live in “the bitzah” with my roommates, and most of the people that I know in my area are Anglos. I speak fluent Hebrish and reply in whatever language I am addressed in. My TZ says I live over the green line, and I’m not scared to take 443 despite Egged not having normal bus service there. I know that the people around me want to kill me—what’s new? I am not scared to take the buses, nor to walk around my neighborhood at 2 am. At sunset I understand what “Jerusalem of gold” means and watch the orange-yellow light on the buildings as the sky gets dark. I hate the expensive prices on everything including food staples, the lack of really affordable housing, and the light rail that has managed to make congestion even worse. I love seeing signs in Hebrew (and the transliterated from English) and the sales (and jacking up of prices) of relevant products at holidays. And, of course, the holidays greetings on the packages and the buses—and they’re my holidays!

So where is home? Home is NYC. Home is Israel. Home is VV. Home is where you make it.

Where is Home?

I have this conflict in me. Where is home?
I've collected a series of quotes that I've found about home. My thoughts will come after; feel free to share your own as well.

"Home is where the heart is."

"Home is where you hang your heart."

"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to." -John Ed Pearce

"Home, the spot of earth supremely blest, a dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest." -Rober Montgomery

"What is home? A roof to keep out the rain? Four walls to keep out the wind? Floors to keep out the cold? Yes, but home is more than that. It is the laugh of a baby, the song of a mother, the strength of a father, warmth of loving hearts, lights from happy eyes, kindness, loyalty, comradeship. Home is first school and first church for young ones, where they learn what is right, what is good, and what is kind, where they go for comfort when they are hurt or sick; where joy is shared and sorrow eased; where fathers and mothers are respected and loved, where children are wanted; where the simplest food is good enough for kings because it is earned; where money is not as important as loving-kindness; where even the tea kettle sings from happiness. That is home. God bless it!"

"Home is oneness, home is my original nature. It is right here, simply in what is. There is nowhere else I have to go, and nothing else I have to become." -Tony Parsons

"Where thou art, that is home." -Emily Dickinson

"Home-- that blessed word, which opens to the human heart the most perfect glimpse of Heaven, and helps to carry it thither, as on an angel's wings."" -Lydia M. Child

"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration." -Charles Dickens

"Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule." -Frederick W. Robertson

"Home is where the trouble is."

"Home is wherever I'm with you."

"Home is where your heart breaks."

"Home is where the phone is."

The magic of thunderstorms

Since I was little, summer was filled with humidity and thunderstorms providing relief from said humidity.

I love storms and always have-- the smell before and after, watching the dark gray stormclouds come in and slowly shift across the sky with a clear line between the storm and the non-storm sky, the change to shades of green or orange depending on the storm, the sound of the drops and the rush of water as the sky opens up, the sound of the thunder and the deep vibrations throughout my body, the actual cracks and bolts of lightening across the sky and the way some lightening actually lights up the entire sky. And, of course, going outside when it's only raining and no longer thundering and lightening-ing.

Last night there was a beautiful storm. I was walking back to my house when the thunder started, and then the lightening. As I was walking home I must have seen about 4 or 5 clear cracks of lightening, with one lighting up the entire sky. Ma rabu ma'asecha Hashem [How numerous are your works, G-d].

I am always in awe when it thunderstorms.

Downside to living in Israel: Not enough thunderstorms. Or snow.

Clarification Re: my previous post

The challenge is to come up with possible solutions to "PB [peanut butter] goes with..."
The things to match the PB with are:
a. J [jelly]
b. chocolate
c. banana (honey and bacon optional)
d. fluff

The example that I gave previously, say it was choice e., was "celery and raisins." I am looking for what the combination of PB, celery, and raisins would be called. Answer: Ants on a log.

Another example:
Pretzels. Answer: Peanut-butter coated pretzels. Another answer: Dipping pretzels in peanut butter.

Not looking for super-deep answers here. Go!

PB goes with...

a. J
b. chocolate
c. banana (honey and bacon optional)
d. fluff

A batch of cookies of your choice to the person who comes up with the most combinations that mean something in classic American culture the quickest (in lieu of the batch of cookies, you may choose a cake or other baked food such as bread. Oh, and we have to be in the same country so I can get you the cookies). I will give an example:
"PB goes with..." if the choice was "celery and raisins," a correct answer would be, "ants on a log." There may be more than one answer-- goal: the most and culturally correct answers.


I've been baking again. I've missed it. I am a very spoiled child when it comes to kitchen and cooking/baking/decorating equipment. My mother bakes a lot, and so has lots of stuff-- pretty much everything you could need to bake and decorate-- different trays, molds, utensils, scoops, etc. It's wonderful. I've gotten used to baking with less than my mother's full kitchen, as well as doing almost everything by hand (definitely all the mixing), so when she offered me her mixer, I declined. I've gotten used to mixing things by hand. I just hate the dishes.
I have very quickly gotten used to large quantities-- a 1 lb. (approx. 450 grams) block of margarine. A 1-gallon (approx. 3.78 liters) jug of oil. 5-lb. (approx. 2.2 kilos) bags of flour. A 5 lb. (again, approx. 2.2 kilos) bottle of honey. And it's not like these are in restaurant supply places; many of these things can be found in the regular supermarket (actually, I think everything except the honey). I will miss these things. Oh, well.

In addition to the cookies, I also made challah today and the dough came out AMAZING. I let it rise in the spare bedroom because it was warm in there and it rose beautifully! It was one of the best doughs I think I've ever worked with; it could also be the extra kneading-- I kneaded it a bit more than usual. The flour also felt...lighter somehow. Maybe finer. Either way, the challahs came out beautiful.

Also, Fairway has za'atar. Except their za'atar doesn't actually include any hyssop (the literal translation of za'atar is hyssop), and includes oregano. First time I've seen za'atar like this. I used it anyway.

My country is on fire, and not just because it's ridiculously hot out

Or, How Lauren Admitted She's Become Kinda Racist...

Over the past week there have been fires "breaking out" all over. Quite a few in the Jerusalem area, however there was one today in the center of the country. Question marks if they are arson, partly due to the fact that there were multiple fires that started at approximately the same time. Oh, and earlier also, one in the Golan (but that was apparently set by careless hikers (?), so we'll put that in a separate category). I read about the various fires and I asked a friend in the 911 system there (ok, it's not 911, but I mean the emergency services-- police, fire, ems) if the fires were set by Arabs.

Seriously, when did I become such a racist? Ok, fine, it's when I started admitting out loud that, especially in my area, there are many Arabs who want to kill me. Not all of them, but many. On the other hand, I work with many, many Arabs who are really nice. I mean, I never asked them if they want to kill me, but...I don't think they do...
It's not so okay to be racist in America. But people are, and that's life.

I have this conflict, because on one hand-- I shouldn't be racist and should not jump to "Arabs?" Because there are many fine Arabs-- I work with many. But...I guess...it's kind of become a little...reflexive, if you will. A little more alert, a little more aware, of who is around me. Picking up on the subtle accent on certain letters. But I still will get up for an elderly Arab on the bus, because he/she is an elderly person and that's right. I treat Arab kids the same as the Jewish ones. I mentioned this to another friend and he said that I'm Israeli-- nothing you can do about it. But that still leaves this conflict unresolved.

Signing off with "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" from Avenue Q.

Aha, the NYCDOE

Note: This post is kind of disjointed.

Back working in the DOE as a contractor. Someone asked me if I preferred being a DOE therapist or a contract therapist, and I said "DOE." Definitely prefer being DOE-- much easier and much more flexible. So what if I can't take RSA kids at a clinic? Or work at Macy's? I have so many more options that I don't need to.

Being a contractor is a pain, because you're second. Caseloads go to DOE therapists first and you get whoever is left. You only get paid if you see the kid-- if the kid isn't there, you don't see them = you don't get paid for that session, despite you being there. The awesome courses that the DOE gives-- you don't get. Also, you don't have paperwork time, which also sucks. There are upsides, too-- I can leave once I've seen all my kids for the day; if I have 10 sessions, I can leave when all of those kids have been seen, regardless of the hour. But I prefer being DOE, but the DOE doesn't hire summer employees. So I am doing contract. In the end I didn't get the kids I wanted (because a DOE therapist picked them up-- but hey-- they're getting seen, which is more than they were for the past couple of years!), but I'm at the school I was at two summers ago, and splitting sites, which is fine-- 2 days one school, 3 days another. Maybe I'll have some of my kids from two years ago.

I like the lists-- who is mandated for what therapy and how much; much more organized than "Ok, here is your class, go decide who needs OT and how much who is getting. Oh, and you only have a few hours for all these kids, and if you don't treat them they don't get OT." At least this way the kids who don't get seen in school have the option to go elsewhere and it's covered. There also aren't whole class sessions, which is a nice change.

Grenade Cake, II

For A Labyrinth, A Soldier's Mother, freevees/aka FishInTheJello and anyone else who can appreciate a cake that looks like it could involve an explosive device:




That would be the grenade cake. And in case you're wondering-- no, the words and flowers don't taste good. They were not nearly as flavorful or as tasty as one might hope, since they have bright colors. They were taste-tested before placing them on the cake, and the conclusion was that the cake's flavor would compensate for the lack of flavor on the words and flowers part. On the upside, they weren't bad. Just not good-tasting...kind of-- eh. Next time use frosting or real sugar letters.

Chinese Fortune Cookie Fortune

"You don't need strength to let go of something. What you really need is understanding." --Guy Finley, via a fortune cookie


Agree-- but disagree. You need understanding to be able to realize that you need to let go, but you also need the strength to act on it. You can understand all you want, but until you have the strength to let go you're just going to understand. And until you understand that you have to let go-- that what you're holding on to isn't helping you or is somehow hurting you-- you can be as strong as you want, and you're still going to be fighting the letting go, because you don't know why you have to let go.


Discuss.

Related Health Professions (aka OT, PT, Speech, Dieticians) law changes (again)

Or, Timing Is Everything

I have been amazingly blessed in terms of timing and my aliyah. Here is a timeline, starting from HS graduation (it really starts from there, because that's when I went on Birthright and ended up in MDA...just...read)

June 2003: HS graduation, leave on Birthright the next day. Decide on the return flight to America that the plane can leave, but I was staying. Plane did not leave my seat on the tarmac. Oh, well.
September 2003: Start getting involved in Birthright alumni stuff in NY, including the Book Club (since defunct). At some point between here and Fall 2005, meet Michah Aron (Cohler), and he sends me a copy of a film he made, "Someday Soldiers," about a man named Yochai Porat who was killed during his work as a medic in the IDF (remember this; it comes into play later).
Summer 2004: Work on Christ in the City (director: Yitz Brilliant) and meet Ben, who left to do JIF (Jewish Impact Films) in LA (did not know that he was leaving to do JIF, just that he left after the first round of filming
December 2005: Participate in JIF (Jewish Impact Films), a 10-day film program in Israel. Before we left, one of the staff members said something to the effect of, "So you're planning on moving here?" to me. I told him no; maybe I could come for a couple of years, but I couldn't leave my family.
Fall 2007: Decide that after I finish OT school I want to go to Israel for a couple of months, because I hadn't been there more than 10 days at a shot. I decide to go to a seminary for a few weeks and then do something else boil it down to Sar-El Volunteer program and the Yochai Porat* Magen David Adom Overseas volunteer program. Talk to people, decide on MDA.
December 2007: Interview for MDA, get accepted. Learn how the Israeli system works: if you don't ask for it enough/make enough noise, nothing happens. The more you push, the faster things move.
February 2008-March 2008: Start the 10-day training course and volunteer with MDA. Make lots of friends and start to acclimate to the Israeli culture .And think about making aliyah. Don't want to leave, but decide to come back for the 88-hour/Natan courses and madrichim.
May-June 2008: Come back. Do the courses, volunteer, teach. Decide I'm making aliyah.
September 2008: Work in the DOE, plan to make aliyah in July 2009. Lots and lots of research, start making contacts in the OT world in Israel.
January 2009: Pilot trip; meet lots of OTs and talk to NBN.
Spring 2009: Realize that I will not have saved enough to make aliyah in July, and push it off until December.
Summer 2009: Start dealing with license stuff; find out that I have to have a teudat zehut in order to get a license...
December 30, 2009: Aliyah with NBN.
January 2010: Start dealing with OT stuff in Israel.
August 2010: Think I have all my paperwork in, and then find out that, no, they need a letter re: my fieldwork hours. But nobody would tell me this unless I asked...Israel...
October 2010: Get my temporary OT license without having to take the exam-- yes!
July 2010: Find out that as of the latest law change, all OT/PT/Speech have to take a licensing exam.

Now, let's explain how this, timing-wise:
If I hadn't gone on Birthright in June 2003, I would not have gotten involved with the BRI Alumni Organization (the pre-Birthright Next group), and would not have met Michah and would not have heard about MDA Overseas.
If I had not heard about MDA Overseas, or if I had just found it without being able to talk to past participants, I would not have volunteered there.
If I had not volunteered there, I would not have had the group of people that I had to rely on when I made aliyah (and still have).
OT-wise: If I had gone to seminary or done something where I was one year behind in terms of finishing OT school, I would have had to take the exam. In Hebrew.
If I had made aliyah straight after finishing OT school in NY, I wouldn't have had my NYS license and would not have been eligible to get "grandfathered" in for my Israeli license.
If I hadn't made aliyah when I did, I would not have been able to get an Israeli license and would not have been able to not take the exam.

It's so amazing to me that I see so much of how I thought things were bad and they really turned out to be right.
For example: I wasn't able to graduate until June 2008 because there was a mix-up with my credits and I never got credit for courses I was exempted from. If that hadn't happened, I would have graduated on time, taken my exam earlier, and would have started working after Pesach, which would have meant that I couldn't be in Israel for the 88-hour and madrichim, and I would not have built up that network and made the connections that I did to enable me to make aliyah.
If I hadn't pushed my aliyah off to December 2009, I would not have had my roommates from ulpan (who are amazing), and I would not be living in the apartment that I am in, in the location that it is.
If I hadn't been in that course/cycle of ulpan, I would not have met the person who gave me the name and number of somebody at Misrad Habriut to sort all my paperwork out.
If I hadn't made aliyah when I did, I would have had to take the exam. And I would have taken it early, which means it would have been in Hebrew.

Thank you, G-d, for everything!


*In case you haven't made the connection yet, the MDA Overseas program is named for Yochai. He was the person who started the whole thing, and after he was killed the program was named in his honor and memory.

Customer Service, American-style

Customer service in America is usually decent, if not good, and if not, you can speak to a manager and just keep going higher up and get your problem resolved. In Israel, customer service is not known for its outstanding quality.

However it does seem to be getting better, I think? Maybe it depends on how loudly you yell. I'm not sure, because I might just be getting louder. But so far I'm usually able to get what I want, or a satisfactory option.

::pat on the back::

ושבו בנים...

Welcome home to the 245 new olim from the US and Canada who landed this morning on the first NBN #nbnlive flight of Summer 2011! According to the NBN video, there were 850 guests waiting to welcome the olim (can we just discuss-- I don't do math, but that's about 3.5 times the number of guests as to the number of olim!)

I get chills every time I watch a ceremony.

Mazal tov, bruchim haba'im, and WELCOME HOME!!!


Video here: http://www.nbn.org.il/live/

"What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us are wrapped up in parentheses." — John Irving

*this is a very personal post...heads up y'all*

A couple of years ago I built a nightstand, painted it a medium sky blue, and I wrote quotes, including the above one, all over it with some picture fitting the quote.

I just finished a book this morning, and in it the protagonist has a line about something being a couple of years and two lifetimes ago.

This is my second time coming back to NY after making aliyah, and coming back here now feels like my life here was another lifetime.

Strange as this sounds, it was never so clear to me as when I was with someone who I once loved-- and still do-- and realized that since I made aliyah I have changed so much and that even if I stayed here, I could never be with this person. That realization hurt so much. How can it be that someone I loved so much and who loves me back...that we've grown, or I've grown, so much away from who I was that it couldn't work? I loved him for three years (?-- give or take--) and then made aliyah and changed. And still loved-- love-- him. It hurts. A lot.

After high school I didn't go to seminary-- I went to college and grad school. My friend Shana, who did and then made aliyah, came back to NY and we were talking. We got onto how we'd changed and she said something that really made me think. She told me that I'd really just grown into more of the person I was in high school. I sort of got it-- college (really just post-high school and living out of my parents' house) gave me a chance to explore what I liked and things that interested me and figure out what I wanted, beyond the walls of school and my home. If I think about the person I was then, I can't say that I've really just grown into more of the person I was then.

I've changed so much over the past 18 months, and I don't know if I went back in time, if I would really believe that the person I am today evolved from the person I was then. I...I don't feel Israeli, but at the same time I know that Israel is so much a part of me and that I could never not live there. I'm so conflicted about how I want my life to be: I want to raise my children in Israel, but at the same time I'm horrified by the education there. I want my children to be Israeli and at the same time be American-- and proud of both of their nationalities and absorb and understand both cultures. I want my children to serve their countries, and I'm ok with it being either. I hope to G-d that there won't be a need for my children to defend Israel, but if there is, I want them to do so willingly and proudly. I want to be able to be able to express my feelings to my husband in Hebrew and in English and not have to translate from either language. I want my children to grow up singing the folk songs of America and the classic songs of Israel.
Is that too much to want?

Happy 4th! (part II), and unrelated notes

As an American-Israeli (and let's not discuss American-Israeli vs. Israeli-American; I was American first, but I wouldn't--couldn't-- live anywhere else but Israel), I celebrate two independence days.
I don't really find it a conflict at all, being both Israeli and American and celebrating the independence of both of my countries.

The days feel very different, though. Israeli Independence Day (henceforth abbreviated as IID) comes right after Yom Hazikaron, Israeli Memorial Day, and that really gives IID an...an added maybe (?) meaning, just because of the juxtaposition. American Memorial Day is completely separate from American Independence Day (AID; as a side note, there is also Veteran's Day and Flag Day in America...interesting). Independence Day in America is celebrated with fireworks, BBQs, and sales. Oh, and flag t-shirts. Those are very popular.


Unrelated Notes:
1. Onwards to being back in NY. The joys of Wal-Mart and lots of green mountains:
Wal-Mart. Please note the hugeness.










The mountains. Please note the greenness.




2. An interesting alarm clock that I would totally bring back, if not for the fact that, well...it looks like a bomb: here


3. I leave you with the song that makes me feel the most patriotic: "Proud to be an American," lyrics by Lee Greenwood:

If tomorrow all the things were gone,
I’d worked for all my life.
And I had to start again,
with just my children and my wife.

I’d thank my lucky stars,
to be livin here today.
‘ Cause the flag still stands for freedom,
and they can’t take that away.

And I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
‘ Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

From the lakes of Minnesota,
to the hills of Tennessee.
Across the plains of Texas,
From sea to shining sea.

From Detroit down to Houston,
and New York to L.A.
Well there's pride in every American heart,
and its time we stand and say.

That I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
‘ Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

And I’m proud to be and American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
‘ Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

Happy 4th!

Landed in the US of A in time for the 4th of July. Yay for long weekends!

I'm not jetlagged, except my body has to learn that Sunday in NY = weekend, not work. I got up at a perfectly normal hour-- if I had work. But I don't.

The plan is upstate, hiking, BBQ'ing. But it's raining, so that might change to upstate, Wal-Mart, swimming, BBQ'ing (it's supposed to slow down/stop later). Does this make me Israeli, if I'm going to hike and have a BBQ on Independence Day? Note, I'm not really going shopping...Wal-Mart doesn't count as major shopping/sales.

The flight was good, not too much turbulence. Got back, saw family, Andrea, Yoni, and Squish came over for Shabbos.

Really have to go-- more later!

Another difference between the schools in NY and the schools in Israel

Wednesday we (the entire country of Israel) had a missile drill. There was a national exercise in case missiles are shot all over the country; it was also a test to see where people heard the sirens and where they didn't or it was difficult to hear it.
There were two sirens-- one at 11 am and one at 7 pm. During the 11 am siren, I was at work in one of my schools. We took all the kids down to the miklat (shelter) and they were down there for 10 minutes. During the 7 pm siren I was in my apartment and briefly contemplated going down to the miklat to see how it looked all cleaned out. I nixed it, because I'm sure it just looks empty. In addition to the purpose of the drill was to see where sirens could/could not be heard, it was also to make sure people know where a close-by shelter is.

There was also a shelter drill in one of the schools I worked in in NY. It was pretty simple-- they rang an alarm/bell, and everyone went to stand in the hallway, facing the wall. Theory being it was away from windows. It was also that you could do a specific number of shelter drills in lieu of fire drills.

Speaking of, they don't seem to have fire drills in the schools here, nor are smoke alarms and carbon monoxide detectors standard in apartments/houses in this country. But we have national missile drills. WTF?

Working

OT in the schools here is very different than OT in the schools in NYC. For starters, there is more than one kind of public school here. And there are separate schools for special ed as well. As in, their own building.

But the most annoying technical thing (besides figuring out which kids should be getting individual OT), I find, is the paperwork. Every kid gets the Israeli equivalent of an IEP at the beginning of the school year and a full report at the end of the year. That's right, it's like doing a triennial review for every kid every year. Now, which kids get the reports depend on the school. For example, in one school I have two classes that I see only a few kids in each class 1:1; I am responsible for reports on all the kids in the class anyway. In another school I have one class session that each child gets a certificate about what they worked on in the class session and how they did, and the rest of the time see kids in small groups or 1:1 and write a report for each kid. It comes out to about 40 reports total, plus the certificates. In Hebrew. More on paperwork when I'm not about to pass out and can't focus.

INSANE. And I used to think that IEPs sucked. I really long for the days when I was a DOE therapist and had just...so much of a more functional schedule.

Interesting birthday cake

I enjoy baking. We know this. And cooking, too, but baking is really my thing. I'm into pretty cakes and cookies and decorating and all that stuff.

My latest cookie accomplishments were Israeli flags and various "boy cookies"-- aka, teddy bears and baby carriages in shades of blue. I think those are the latest. Latest cake accomplishments were a multi-color celebratory cake and a grenade cake.

Now for those of you not in the know, there are different kinds of genades, some more fun (shall we say...) than others. Of course I didn't know that people have preferences for favorite kinds of grenades (although people have favorite foods, why not favorite grenades?) so I made a traditional hand grenade. I will advise people that flashbangs (stun grenades) are much simpler to make. Here's how:

1. Make the housing (the case): Take a toilet paper tube and cover the ends so the tube is closed at both ends

2. Color it black (this can be done in a variety of ways, but I think the easiest would be to color it with a marker and then saran-wrap (plastic wrap) it so the color doesn't get on the cake. I suppose you can also dye it with food coloring, but then it would be significantly wet).

3. Make the top (the detonation assembly): This I made out of batzek sucar, which is kind of somewhere in between fondant and marzipan but not exactly either, and painted with food coloring.
4. Don't forget the pin! I used a keychain ring attached with the batzek sucar.


Next time I will plan better. Although the cake tasted good, the decoration definitely needed more planning.

Shavuot-- aka, the holiday that vegetarians and those that do not like to be meat appreciate

Shavuot is the holiday that comes at the end of the counting of the Omer. People stay up all night learning and pray as early as possible. And in Jerusalem many people walk to the Kotel, the Western Wall, to pray there. That custom comes from a few sources, one being that once the Old City and the Western Wall were were liberated, Shavuot was the first time we were able to go there, and there is also a concept of making a pilgrimage to the Temple 3 times a year (Pesach/Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot). Between these two, it's become a tradition on Shavuot to go to the Kotel on Shavuot morning after staying up (or not) learning. My favorite part of Shavuot morning is after davening. At the Kotel plaza, there are people making kiddush and giving out small packages of food (muffins/cake, a drink, etc.). And you leave the Kotel, by all the construction (ok, maybe less so now) and the beginning of Yafo, there is also-- you guessed it-- someone (a few someones) making kiddush and giving out cake and stuff. This country is amazing in the way that people take care of each other and how on major event days, someones are looking out for the rest of the population somehow.

Another tradition is eating dairy, for many reasons (see the link for Shavuot above). So I made lots of dairy. I ended making dinner last minute, so I made lots of dairy. Aside from challah (which is not dairy and I love to make), I made a dairyfest: cinnamon cheesecake with nutmeg in the crust, lasagna, a dairy noodle kugel, and pizza. And then I went to lunch by a friend of a friend and-- surprise! Dairy! I like dairy. Dairy makes me happy. Except when I'm meat (hence the reason I don't like eating meat).

Usually (like I've been here so long...well, usually what I do when I'm in Israel-put it that way; I've been here for 3 Shavuots) I stay up all night, go to the Kotel, and then go back to wherever I'm staying and SLEEP. This year I had a friend over and she didn't feel great, so we stayed home. I stayed up most of the night and learned, davened, then went to sleep until the afternoon. In the afternoon we went to a NBN unofficially singles event ("This event is for singles and young couples in their 20’s & 30’s", which means it's a singles event). On one hand, it's another singles event. On the other hand, I see a whole bunch of people at once and then I'm "yotze" for a whole year. That's convenient.

What I used to do for Shavuot was determined by where I was. If I was upstate, after we finished dinner I would go down the hill (with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and enough other candy and cheese balls to last through the night, sit at the back of the nightclub (the nightclub is really an auditorium-like space with a stage that serves as the shul for the main minyan on Shabbos in the summer) and learn with Chari and maybe a few others, take plenty of breaks in the middle, pass out for a little while on the benches, get up, then daven and go back up the hill and sleep. If I was by a friend's, we would usually go to her shul, learn, eat, daven, then go back to her house and sleep until the afternoon. And then in both scenarios, have a regular second dag of Yom Tov.

it's been 2 weeks...

ok, 17 days technically since I updated. Sorry.

So-- Yom Ha'atzmaut. Oh, and Lag Ba'omer. And fairly soon, Yom Yerushalayim and Shavuot.

So-- Yom Ha'atzmaut. Started the night off by doing an avtacha at a street party that ended up getting closed early by the police because there were too many people there (why they didn't just not let anybody else in when it got full is asking too much from Israelis). So I went home at 2 am instead of at 4 am, which was fine with me. The avtacha was supposed to start at 11, so I figured that I would have to be there at 10. No, the volunteer office called me and said I had to be at the station at 9. We left the station at 9:45. Next year I'm going to a BBQ instead. During the day I went home (oh, I made flag cookies. Yummy flag cookies) and Rita and Dov had a party in the afternoon, then I went back into Jerusalem for a BBQ-- kind of a winding down because everyone already BBQ'd during the rest of the day.

Lag Ba'omer was, as usual, a pyromaniac's dream. I went to the NBN bonfire, and next year I will be going to the MDA Chul one. Josh made one, which would have been awesome to go to, but I didn't know where it was and he didn't answer his phone. And I forgot that I had Gavy's number, who I also could have called. But on the upside, at least I didn't try to find it because as Gavy put it-- "it was on top of a hill where you would think you would be raped and dumped." Right. Next time I'll call Josh in advance, or someone else. I definitely have bonfire pictures somewhere.

What else, what else? Getting ready to wrap up the school year. I'm going to be in only two schools next year (thank goodness). I'm going on some Fridays to sort of get acquainted with the new school for next year so that I don't come in with a total surprise and actually start working well. Like I said, it will be interesting because it's a population that I haven't really worked with, and it's also a high school, so there's a very big element of getting ready for life in the community, which should be kind of cool.

And Vered made aliyah! Yay! Mazal tov and welcome! Joint pancake birthday party to happen in the near future.

I think that's about it. I really wish I had more to say.

Oh! I can talk about dating here. Over the past couple of weeks I've gone out on a few dates. Nothing came out of them, but at least I went. And some of them were with Israelis...yay for me! That being said, still looking...and I'm open to suggestions (within reason; don't think about setting me up with a 35 year old, or someone who isn't religious, or doesn't speak a word of English/Hebrew-- yes, they've all been done...)

Mmmmm, bbq...

I smell like the classic Israeli smell on Yom Ha'atzmaut-- a BBQ. More on this later, but Yom Ha'atzmaut celebrating the 63rd birthday of Israel has come and gone, with all the fanfare and fun it deserved.

Bedtime, as I go back to work tomorrow.

Yom Hazikaron

Last year I didn't post about my experiences; I later posted a poem, which I've linked to here.

American Memorial Day didn't mean much to me beyond sales and a day for BBQs. Now that I think about it, I'm sure it meant much more to my Grandpa and Zaidy (and maybe also my grandmothers) who knew people who fought and died in the wars of America. I'm sure that if I went to Arlington, or any other military cemetery, I would feel it more; I would recognize the day for what it was intended to be. But I never did. I didn't feel it in America; I don't know if I would if I went back.

When I was growing up, Israeli Memorial Day was always observed in school, but I never really made the connection of Memorial Day being right before Independence Day, really impressing the significance. People DIED-- DIED-- so that there could be an Israel. Somehow...I never really felt the "people DIED so that there could be an America." Here...everyone who was killed was a friend or relative of a friend or a friend of a friend. I would be surprised if there was more than 2 degrees of separation between someone who was killed and anyone walking around Israel today...it's so close for everyone.

Last year I and another ulpan student were invited to carry a wreath for Natan Sharansky as he placed a wreath at the memorial ceremony for victims of terror. It was surreal, as I was walking to the ceremony and during, listening, and after, walking around Har Herzl...just...it felt like a memorial day, a day to remember. The night before I went to a ceremony with Elinor and Aryeh and on the way there was the tzfira, the 1-minute siren that marks the start of Memorial Day in Israel. Aryeh stopped the car, we got out, and stood. Remembering, reflecting, thinking, and paying respect to those who died for Israel.

There's also this...interesting (?) thing-- I don't know the right word for it. It's...kind of like a large-scale kumsitz. It's called "shira b'tzibur"-- "singing in a congregation" where there are songs put up on a screen, like in karaoke, and everyone sings together. They are old songs, traditional Israeli, war songs, hopeful songs, sad songs...and they are songs that are part of the culture here. And this shira b'tzibur is very...customary (?) on Yom Hazikaron and random other times. Everyone is sitting together, usually on mats on the floor or chairs in front of the screen and everyone sings together. Sometimes there are instruments, sometimes not. But it's amazing; it's just everyone sitting together and singing, being a group.

You feel a heaviness in the atmosphere here-- the country is in mourning, and you feel it. It's like when somebody you know dies and the world should stop and you're walking around in a haze because everything feels so thick. Except in this case, the whole country does stop, because everybody is thinking about somebody.

"If You See Something, Say Something"- NYC MTA campaign slogan

The Egged version of that statement is something like, "נא לסרוק מושבך ולדווח על כל חצף חשוד." ["Please check around your seat and report any suspicious object."]

There's a story that my mom has told me about when she came back from Israel and went to do shopping and wasn't able to carry all the stuff in at once so she left it by the elevator or door or something-- basically, she wasn't around it. She was worried that someone might see it and call the police. And then she realized that she was in America, where nobody cares if there is a bag lying around with no one around.

In Israel you are taught (trained) from a very young age to be aware of your surroundings. If there is a bag just sitting there-- be aware of it. Ask the people around you if it's theirs; if it's not-- call the police and get away-- fast. Many times it's just a bag that someone accidentally left. Or a box that someone left and didn't put in the garbage. But no one is taking a chance-- it's really, "See something, say something." Today on my bus there was a bag (note: Israeli city buses have a space by one of the doors that's technically for wheelchairs, but people use it more for carriages and big packages/bags) in the wheelchair section, strapped in. It must have been there for a while even though people were getting on and off. All of a sudden, a stop before Machane Yehuda the driver gets on the loudspeaker and starts yelling something-- unintelligible, of course, and about 5 seconds in people start getting up and getting off the bus. Immediately you know that there's something wrong and it's not a problem with the electrical system on the bus. It turned out to be the bag of someone who doesn't really speak Hebrew and she didn't understand what the driver was saying until people started getting off the bus and someone told her.

You know-- I didn't even feel any kind of adrenaline flow. It was just...that's life in Israel. A chefetz chashud (pronounced with a hard "ch," like challah or Chanukah)-- suspicious object-- is just part of life here. Thank G-d it was someone's bag from shopping. Welcome to Israel.


(on a side note, if the object is not claimed, as happens as well, the police clear the area, block off the street, and bring in a robot to safely detonate the chefetz chashud.)

Contrasts

I was just looking at my pictures from Pesach two years ago, the last Pesach that I was in NY for and upstate-- the way I grew up having Pesach.

Pesach really seems to be THE holiday that exemplifies the whole family coming together. Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur not as much, and even Chanukah, because of it's proximity to other winter holidays. But Pesach-- everyone who has some connection to Judaism and tradition remembers the seder. For me, Pesach was my family together, upstate-- see here; I don't need to post it again.

It's something that I want my kids to have memories of, the way I have-- my immediate family, plus my grandparents, plus aunts, uncles, and cousins (well, only one set in my case). It was also something special-- because my mom was an only child and my grandparents all got along, my mom's parents always were at the seder even though it was upstate and in my Bubby and Zaidy's house. I always had seder with both sets of grandparents. I wonder what seder was like this year in my house (my parent's house...). The first seder they had a friend from the neighborhood over and the second night a different family friend came over.

I wonder what my seder will be like once I have my own family. I should probably write something else about that, because that seems to be a repeating theme: The future for me in Israel, with my own family. Not that I have someone to start it with, but it's still something that I clearly think about a lot.

Pesach 5771

My second Pesach in Israel. The first one I'm without anyone that I was normally at a seder with (last year my aunt, uncle, and cousin were in Israel and I had the seder with them); I was with my adopted family from Chashmonaim-- small, just 5 of us. And-- again, felt weird (but less so than last year) to have only one day of chag.

Then on chol hamoed I did the very Israeli thing of tiyuling (or for those that speak proper English-- going on a tiyul). On the first day I did a tiyul in Jerus

alem, and the second day I did Yehudia (the upper one; for those of you that know the trails-- the red to the green). I had wanted to do Yehudia for

quite a while, and I"m really glad that I got to finally.

Jerusalem tiyul (Even Sapir):

This is one of the many hikes that start from Hadassah Ein Kerem, or right nearby. There isn't too much to say about this tiyul. It was, as one of the others put it, a nature walk. It was pretty much walking along a dusty road with pretty flowers on the sides. There were points that you saw the hills and it WAS beautiful, but it wasn't so much my kind of tiyul. Give me

climbing and rocks and water, etc. Not a dirt road...That being said, here is a pretty flower shot and a scenery shot:

Yehudia: The weather was perfect-- not too hot, not too cold; a little bit of sun, but not bright and too hot. Also, the path itself was very shady. Let's discuss the tiyul. The big thing about Yehudia is the ladder and the water. You have to climb down a ladder and then swim. It wasn't bad, just don't look down :) You kind of have to, to know where other people are so you don't go down too fast and step on them, but don't look down to see how much further you have. And don't look up to see how far you came down. The water was so cold-- it literally shocked my body into stopping breathing for a moment. It was like being a water tester in camp (which meant that the head lifeguard threw you in and asked you how cold the water was and then told everyone else to get in and start swimming laps to warm up), except then I knew the water was going to be cold. This was colder. This was totally my kind of tiyul-- rocks, climbing, water... Much better than just walking on a road-- give me things to climb on, water, etc...mmmmm... After the tiyul we had a BBQ with a disposable grill which ended up not working so well so we made a small fire and used the screen/rack thing from the disposable grill on top of that. See here:

"Disposable grill?" you ask? Yes. That is one of the many wonderful things that they have here. Tiyulim and camping and BBQs are so much a part of the culture here; school trips-- hikes. End of school trip-- hike. Holidays-- hikes. And camping.

Now getting the food for the tiyul was a bit more interesting. In Israel, the majority of people eats kitniyot (legumes, rice, etc., including corn, beans, canola, chickpeas...for a more in-depth explanation, click here) and there is significant debate over whether or not people living in Israel should or should not eat kitnoyot regardless of their cultural background (Ashkenazi or Sefardi) (see here for more on that), however my friends and I do not. So everything I bought had to be not only kosher for Pesach, but kitnoyot-free as well. A challenge in the average Israeli supermarket. The kosher for Pesach part was easy-- the shelves that are not kosher for Pesach were draped off and labeled: (the word on the sign is "chametz," or "leavened"-- aka, not kosher for Pesach. The hard part was finding non-kitnoyot stuff. Even things like yogurt-- "kosher l'pesach l'ochelei kitnoyot [kosher for Passover only for those who eat kitnoyot]." And some of the signs were confused, like this one:

(the sign says, "l'lo chashash kitnoyot"-- basically, "not kitnoyot." However, it was under rice which is very definitely kitnoyot. Confused sign...) But I was able to find meat (the hamburgers and hot dogs were the harder ones because they are processed; raw meat isn't kitniyot) and even the sweet chili sauce (also hard to find). And marshmallows. I would say, based on what I saw, that easily 2/3 of the products are only for those who eat kitnoyot. Not helpful.

I leave you with some pictures from the Golan (most of them are on someone else's camera-- we only took 1 camera on the hike, because of the water and I have to get them from her):

the road:

the mountains:

more mountains:

and again:

the Kineret:

And one more reason to love and appreciate being in a Jewish country:

The bus has the traditional Passover greeting of, "A happy and kosher Pesach."

I hate the army

I don't really. I shouldn't. It keeps me safe and allows me to go places with less risk of getting hurt.

But I just hate how it so royally f's up so many people's lives, particularly those who did not go in when they were 18 and just out of high school. The IDF, particularly the non-career soldiers, is geared towards 18 and 19 year olds who have just finished high school and have not yet gotten higher education or in any way really started their lives.

For the others, olim, people who decided at a later age to volunteer, and those who already have life experience beyond high school-- the army interrupts their lives. Many people who choose to serve at a later age who are non-combat positions and actually get into the unit/area they want-- they're very happy. But that doesn't mean the army doesn't screw up things for them, too. A friend from Ulpan wanted to go in for 1 year-- the army made her go in for 2, despite her age (24) and the original statement that she would only have to serve 1 year. She's a few months in. Another friend who is also 24 volunteered-- she is in the unit she wants and I'm not sure how many months she's doing. Another friend who made aliyah in his mid 20's and went to law school and then volunteered-- he just went in at 29. The army is not designed for people who have lives already.

Combat soldiers? Forget it...your life as you knew it or thought it could be is over. If you're married-- maybe you get to go home for Shabbat. If you're not married, you don't have a life. You don't. Say you have every other Shabbat out-- let's just say, because that's pretty standard for many. So...you get out, in theory, Thursday (which could be anywhere from the morning to the night) and depending on the time you get out, by the time you get home, you have just enough time to start a load of laundry so you can do the next one, etc. so that your clothes will all be dry before you pack them up for the next two weeks. You have until Sunday morning-- say...anywhere between 9 and 11 am (usually; depends where you have to be) to be back at your base. Besides the laundry, you also have to take care of the things you couldn't do over the past two weeks because...well...you were in the army and couldn't leave. Hope your bank is open on Friday...or that you have everything you need so you can go directly from base to the bank... If you do not keep Shabbat, you have Friday and Saturday (Shabbat) to hang out with friends and family, relax, watch TV/movies. And finish your laundry. But you're usually sleeping a lot of the time. If you do keep Shabbat, you have until Shabbat comes in (just before sunset on Friday) and after Shabbat (about 24 hours plus 72 minutes from when Shabbat started) to do all those things and then on Shabbat you have time to hang out with friends, read, sleep, etc. Now try to have a social life in there. Where? I don't know. I guess it makes sense not to date (seriously date, not just screw around- pun not intended) until after the army. But when you're married, it's really hard-- you are away from your spouse for at least a week and you're expected to be able to have a normal relationship?! Major props to those who are doing this.
And it's so frustrating. It's very difficult to have a normal life when you're away from your family for 2 weeks (at least) at a shot and then to expect to be able to have normal relationships with people other than your army buddies? You get used to it...but it's still not normal and sometimes not possible. Another friend has been engaged for almost 2 years because she wasn't able to marry when she was in the army. It really-- forces you to put your life on hold or not be in a place (for many people; not all) to have a relationship that requires a lot of maintenance (talking about combat positions; non-combat is very different and does allow a lot more of having a "normal" life). And it's hard for those of us who aren't in the army and want to have a relationship-- any kind of relationship-- with those in the army. Call to say hi-- "Sorry, I can't talk, I'm busy." And they're busy every time you call because their schedule keeps getting changed and this one wants to switch and they go out for this operation and that job...and when they can in theory talk, it's either 2 am or you're at work. Or about to go to sleep. Or they're going to sleep because they're so damn tired.

It sucks.

I'm not in the army, and a large part of the reason I didn't volunteer was this-- I have a life already, I've begun it. And serving in the IDF would have meant putting my life on hold for a short amount of time, learning to do something new because they don't have OT in the army, and then resuming it 6 months later, or even a year later; they wouldn't take me for longer. In any event, it's putting my life on hold. At the age of 25, when it's not matim at all for me to start. I can do more and better for the country outside the army.

But it still affects me and my life and what kinds of relationships I have with my friends who are in the army.