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."