n: a·li·yah

The Good, The Bad, The Aliyahversary

2011-07-13T19:57:00.007+03:00

I recently posted on Facebook that we just celebrated our 3-year anniversary of making aliyah. One of my friends asked what was the best thing about making aliyah and what was the worst. I gave a nutshell response of,

"the best: I live in Israel for cryin' out loud! :)
the worst: not being able to easily see friends & family. Although many of them come to Israel, so I do get to see a lot of people, despite leaving."

I decided to answer this in more detail. So without further ado, here goes (and I am SURE I'll think of more after I post this blog!)

THE BEST

See above ;) This country is beautiful. Everywhere you look, there is amazing beauty. From the green fields and mountains in the north, to the pristine beaches, to the rocky Judean hills, to the stunning variations of the desert. I never get tired of looking at this place. And that's not even taking into consideration all the ruins to look at!

I am not "the Jew" - one of a few, someone different, standing out. I am one of many people who look like I do, live like I do, eat like I do, believe like I do. Yet, all those many people are still very unique and individual.

My holidays and the country's holidays MATCH! My goodness! I don't have to use my personal or vacation days for my religious holidays. Along with that is the fact that the store decorations at holiday times are relevant to me.

People truly do treat each other like one big family here. If you are in trouble or need help, your neighbours will be on you in a flash (assuming, of course, they know!). Of course, this also means that they will ask you too-personal questions like family would, yell at you if they think you're doing something stupid and ignore you if they just don't feel like dealing with you right now.

In keeping with the family theme, people here know how to disagree with each other. A good friend of mine is very left-leaning. I'm more centre, with an occasional toe into the right. We occasionally work together, and one day during a break we got into a big debate about a very hot, touchy political topic. For 15 minutes we spoke vehemently (I wouldn't say we yelled) about the subject, disagreeing completely. After 15 minutes, we looked at the clock and said, "should we get back to it?" and went back to work. It affected our friendship not one whit. I think he's wrong, he thinks I'm wrong and we accept that.

Men are not afraid to ask for directions. Or wear pink. Or carry a man-bag. Or take their baby out for a walk in the stroller. With another dad taking his baby out for a walk in the stroller.

The weather. For at least 10 months out the year. One month is cold and rainy, the other month is stinkin' hot. The rest of the year is usually pretty amazing.

No matter where you are, you're never really that far from the beach.

Vegetables have taste. Wonderful taste. And smell! I never knew red peppers had a scent until I moved here, walked into a grocery store that has the vegetables right at the entrance and walked around trying to identify that wonderful odour.

Dairy. The spectrum of dairy products makes my head spin. I eat yogurt and cottage cheese ("cottage") and feta and leben (kind of a yogurt-y cheese) on a regular basis. With those tasty veggies!

Almost everyone visits Israel at some point, so we get to see friends and family all the time!

Two words: kosher cruises

Two more words: ice cafe (which is very different from iced coffee. Think frappacino.)

Antiquities and archeology. The trail through the forest where I regularly walk the dog takes us past ancient graves, ancient mikva'ot (ritual baths), wine presses, old wells and cisterns and buildings carved into stone.

Consumer goods are plentiful. You can get pretty much anything here. A lot of it will be more expensive, but a lot of it won't.

Cheerios! I can get Cheerios here!

The sun is the best dryer in the world. And the best stain remover. And the best bleach. Unless of course, you accidently leave your navy blue shirt outside for 3 days. Oops.

Getting to know other branches of the family better.

So many people speak English here that when I get stuck for how to say something, between my broken Hebrew and another person's broken English, I can usually make myself understood. Or vice-versa.

Our soldiers are HOT. Seriously. We have the cutest guys & gals in uniform in the world. IN THE WORLD.

We have the silliest names for things that lead to many innuendoes and lots of jokes. Kfar Pines (which is pronounced pee-ness), the HOT company (which results in everyone saying "I'm home waiting for the HOT guy to show up."). You get the idea.

There is still a shuk (street market) mentality here. You can bargain for anything.

THE WORST

As much as Israelis are some of the most giving and helpful people I've ever met, they can also be some of the most self-centred. I can't count the number of times people have parked their cars up onto the sidewalk - blocking it completely from strollers or people walking their dogs - so it can be in the shade, despite there being an EMPTY parking lot across the narrow street.

Hardly anyone picks up their dog poop. Sitting in the park is a hazardous enterprise.

The dog culture here in general kind of stinks. A large number of people are afraid of dogs (it's a Middle Eastern thing), dogs very rarely get properly trained so socializing is difficult, dogs have to be leashed and there are no dog parks, so the dogs are not getting appropriate exercise, which means they have too much energy so they bark. A lot. It is getting better, though.

There's nowhere for Maimo to swim, no doggy friends for him to play with regularly, he went from having a big yard to living on the 3rd floor with no elevator, he's a black dog living in the desert.

Despite the plethora of consumer products, the quality of some things just sucks. Oh, quality ziplock bags! You are like gold to me! And baking soda. Can someone please explain to me why baking soda comes in teeny tiny little bitty packets?

Salaries kinda suck.

In line with that, when you send a resume in response to a job ad (or in my case, audition), it can be 3 months before you hear back. Or never. But 3 months is not unusual.

Not being able to easily see friends & family. Although many of them come to Israel, so I do get to see a lot of people, I still miss a lot of folks.

I miss Vancouver & the northeastern US. Green piney forests with soft undergrowth. And water. Lots and lots of water. And Allan's cabin on Helby Island. ;)

HEBREW. It's killing me. And arguing with very sweet Israelis who insist on speaking English to me when I'm trying to speak Hebrew with them is getting annoying. Especially when I finally give up, speak English, finish my transaction with them, and their parting words are "You need to learn Hebrew! You should try to speak Hebrew!" gaaaaah

People truly do treat each other like one big family here. Which means no one has any qualms about randomly starting up conversations with the strangers standing around them, because, of course, we're not strangers, we're family. This is kind of a nightmare for me, because eventually it will get to the point where I no longer understand what they are saying, they will then switch to English, and then, refer to the paragraph above.

Bills and banking. Native Israelis cannot figure out how to read their bills or bank statements. There is a 5 shekel charge on my water bill every month that no one seems to be able to explain. Not even the water company.

Oh, the bureaucracy. It's enough to make your head explode. Everyone has a story about having to go back to the same office 5 times to get one thing processed.

CORN. Israelis love their damn corn. It's in everything. Even pizza! I hate corn. Corn is stupid.

Cereal is expensive, and 90% sugar. Finding a non-sugar cereal is near impossible.

It has to be said - the politics. The world thinking it knows what's best for Israel. Israel knows what's best for Israel, thank you very much. Go pay attention to the countries that truly need help. Anyone ever heard of Darfur?

There is still a shuk (street market) mentality here. You have to bargain for almost everything.

So there you have it. THE BEST far outweighs THE WORST. Everything under THE WORST is easily handled or easily ignored or will improve someday. Nothing tops the fact that, plain and simple, I live in Israel. Every day I have to pinch myself.

You meet people in the strangest places

2011-06-22T22:24:00.004+03:00

There's a blogger we follow, a blogger we accidentally met - along with his wonderful family - by being placed at their house for a Shabbaton. That story, in case you've forgotten is elucidated here and here.

David Bogner, the blogger behind the blog, has embarked on an ambitious journey to celebrate my his birthday. He's also using this journey to raise funds for the The Efrat Emergency Medical Center Radiology Suite. He's making many pit stops along the way, and at those pit stops is meeting up with people to sign his trip log as proof of actually making this long ride. Read about the details of this trip and how to donate.

The Maimo & I volunteered to meet up with David at, if I'm not mistaken, his first pit stop just outside of Modi'in, and sign his trip log (I took care of the signing part. Maimo just watched). And of course, we took pictures to mark this auspicious occasion!

Our intrepid traveller. Who coordinates so nicely with his surroundings.

Gettin' out the iPad

Aaaand our first from-the-road blog post!

Go Team!

Good luck, נסיעה טובה and Happy Birthday to us! :)

Strange things you see in the forest

2011-06-14T19:34:00.002+03:00

I love that I live in a country where there is such a love of nature. People regularly take advantage of our parks and forests and deserts to go walking, biking, camping and hiking. Every time Maimo and I go walking through the forest, we run into someone biking, picnicking, horseback riding, touring the sites. We frequently even run into people davening (praying). And sometimes, even dancing.

The downside to all this love and appreciation is that the concept of "pack it out" has not reached Israel. Every day, I see enough broken bottles to start my own stained glass window company. Back when JNF had a dumpster in the picnic area where we park, I used to pick up the glass (filling my fannypack!) and dump it before we left. Now that the dumpster is gone, I do my best to drive it into the dirt so there won't be any cut doggy feet or sliced tires. Aside from glass bottles, we have seen plastic 2-litre bottles, foil roasting pans, styrofoam packaging, and even the little hibachi-style grills. Apparently they are cheap enough to just leave behind. Occasionally, we see a neatly packed bag of garbage. Which of course, doesn't stay neatly packed for long, once the animals get into it.

Today, we even saw rolled up diapers, next to a bag of garbage, which was not far from plastic plates and cups strewn about, as if waiting for their guests to sit down and fill them. Not all of it is waste, though; someone once left a case of tetrapaks of non-pasteurized milk - the kind that doesn't need to be refrigerated until you open it. I guess they didn't need it all, and left it for the next campers.

All this is mostly outweighed by the beauty of being part of a people who love their outdoor spaces (if not cleaning them); of seeing a religious man in the middle of group of trees, davening out loud so the only sounds you hear are the birds and his voice, followed a little while later by a group of men dancing and singing in the forest for the sheer love of Hashem.

I get it. Being in the forest makes people happy. It makes me want to dance. But then Maimo looks at me funny.

And on the third day

2011-04-06T19:58:00.004+03:00

Actually, it's only the second day, but Frenchie has risen again! Turns out, something did hit the car - in the fuel filter. So what I thought was oil spilling all over the road was, in fact, gas.

You're welcome, Modi'in.

Our mechanic, Oded (who is somewhat of an automotive celebrity here in Modi'in. I think he even has a fan club.) was able to get a new part the next day, and we picked Frenchie up last night. He seems none the worse for his little adventure; I actually think he secretly enjoyed it. Oded showed us the fuel filter, and the gash in it is pretty impressive. The mind boggles at what could have caused it.

The mind also boggles at how close we came to major disaster. Oded said we have such mazal (luck), because an inch or two either way and the whole fuel system could have been shot. Mazal tov!

In the end, optimism was warranted. Frenchie is home, pretty inexpensively. The cherry on top of our automotive sundae is, after all that, where I thought the car dumped a whole tank, we actually only lost half a tank of gas!

You're welcome, Modi'in.

A Day in the Life of a non-Hebrew Speaker

2011-04-04T15:12:00.006+03:00

You ever have one of those days when all the little individual items add up to make one bad thing that much worse?

Yeah, that was my day.

It started with the rain. Maimo wouldn't, er, do his business this morning, so I brought him along with me when I took Morey to the train, figuring we'd stop at the park on the way home, since by that time the rain had let up a bit.

We drop Morey off and head home. Two minutes later, I hear a 'thunk' that sounds like something hit the side of the car. Based on where we were (there is SO much construction in this city, I was neither worried nor surprised), I decided to continue around the corner where I was turning, and park.

Except.

The car died just as I made the turn. In the middle of the road. Next to two blocks of red & white striped "no parking" zones. He just would not start, and the sudden, overwhelming smell of oil convinced me that it probably wouldn't do much good to try. I did, a couple of times (what? You've never touched a freshly painted wall, despite the "Wet Paint" sign?), but my first instinct was right. I was able to roll a little out of the way of traffic, and up against the curb. I was hoping to roll back out of the turn, and roll down the main street a few feet to a legal parking spot.

Best laid plans and all that, blah blah. The curb was angled, and since the car was turned off, I had very little steering control, so the rear tire bumped up against the curb, and there she stayed. And of course, there is no one around, and none of the cars flying by me slowed down enough for me to even hope to get their attention to maybe help push me. I sat there staring at the perfectly legal and empty parking spots maybe 50 feet ahead of me. If this had happened only 10 seconds earlier, I could have coasted into a perfectly legal and empty spot on the main road. If it happened on 10 seconds later, I could have pulled into one of those spots right in front of me.

What to do? Call Morey, of course! He was on the train, so he made a few calls. The call to our mechanic went to voicemail, and when he tried our insurance company (we get one free tow), he was hurled into a Hebrew phone menu that went by so fast he couldn't even be sure he called the right company. He had to wait until he got to work, to enlist the aid of an Israeli co-worker.

Which would have happened faster if his train hadn't been delayed by 15 minutes.

I've now been sitting in the car - with the dog - for over an hour. I, too, have to get to Tel Aviv for a recording session. But since I was just planning on dropping Morey at the train, then heading back home, I am not dressed for Tel Aviv, I have no cash on me, nor do I have my bankcard. I also have no water, which by now both Maimo and I are regretting.

In the meantime, I take Maimo out for a quick stroll near the car; he does his thing, so we at least got one item on the to-do (to-doo?) list checked.

After another half-hour passes, I cancel my gig for today, and call a friend to ask for a ride home. Of course, she has a kid home sick today. But she's a great friend, and willing to drag her poor, sick kid out of his sickbed to come get me and the dog. Morey finally calls; while trying to figure out the best place to tow the car to, our mechanic had called and explained that one free tow is a tow to anywhere. It's good to know that had we been in Eilat, we could have gotten a tow home. I'd feel really bad for the tow guy who then had to drive a tow truck 5 hours back home, but hey.

So after Morey's co-worker gave a sob story about how the car was blocking traffic (well, it had been) and "his wife" was in the car, the tow company said they'd send someone right away. This, of course, was the Israeli "right away," but it wasn't too bad, especially given that I was starting to need to use the human facilities, and you. just. know. if I left the car to go to the shopping centre around the corner, that would be when the police finally showed up - to give me a parking ticket. Plus, I had the dog and that's... just... weird.

The tow truck shows up, and it figures - I can speak enough Hebrew to do just fine in a restaurant, or a supermarket, yet everyone always wants to speak English with me. I know not a single word relating to mechanic, tow, car repair, etc., (the best I can do is "my car is not working"), and I get the one guy who doesn't know a single word of English. He left, it started raining as Maimo and I waited outside, and stopped just before Kate came and picked me up. Her sick little kid got lots of doggy kisses, and less than 3 hours after the start of our ordeal, Maimo and I got home. We're still waiting to hear if Frenchie is dead in the water, given up the ghost, returned to his Peugeot maker or if there is a small modicum of hope. Sadly, I am not optimistic.

What I am optimistic about, however:

It was raining today!
I have a friend who was available to pick me up. And if she wasn't, I had backups.
I was able to move the car out of the flow of traffic, and not block the road.
We can get a tow to anywhere! Please God, may we never have to use it again.
Today's gig was with a long-term client, who has me doing a big project, so re-scheduling is not too much of a big deal. If it had been a one-off client, that would have been very very bad.
This happened while I was in Modi'in. It could have just as easily happened at 110 km/hr on the highway on my way to Tel Aviv.
Maimo is a rockstar. He could have been a right royal little pain in the tuchus, being stuck in a car, with no water, toys or food for so long, but he eventually curled up (with his head on my lap - aww) and sacked out.
Morey is an awesome rockstar. While I normally can handle stressful situations, there were too many factors that threw me - being in a no-parking zone, having the dog, having to get to a job, not having the language skills, not being sure what our policy covered... Morey handled it all with aplomb. I should hire him out.

Yes, this is what it takes to get me blogging again. Expect some "I hate Connex" posts in the near future.

Hebrew word of the day

2010-10-04T16:56:00.004+02:00

What's the definition of a "frier"? Let me give you an example:

Two people go out for a lovely lunch. Person B cannot finish her lunch, so she saves half of it to possibly have for lunch the next day. She could have easily nibbled away at the remaining yummy bits, despite being full, but utilizing her willpower, she fights the temptation.

When the waitress comes to clear the table, Person B asks (in Hebrew) for the leftovers to be wrapped to take home. Person B even does "the gesture" indicating that she'd like the food "to go." The waitress responds, in what to Person B sounded like (in Hebrew), "to take with you?" Person B responds in the affirmative. Despite this, Person B has the sneaking suspicion that the waitress is not going to wrap up said leftover food. This suspicion grows when the waitress stacks up the other dirty dishes on top of the leftover salad.

The bill comes. The take-away bag does not. Person B waits for a few minutes, then finally asks the waitress where the salad is, saying that she had requested it to be wrapped. The waitress responds, in English, "I don't know about it."

Person B, due to a lack of the proper vocabulary to say, "That's not my problem. I specifically asked you to wrap up my leftovers. You answered me. I deliberately left food over. I paid for my food and you tossed it. Please either make me a new salad, or give me a discount, or let me see the manager," sighs and quietly says, "B'seder" ("okay").

Person B is a frier. Any questions?

Signs, signs, everywhere are signs

2010-09-21T19:40:00.003+02:00

The government of Israel has a number of grants for new Olim (immigrants) to help them get started in new careers, or to establish an existing career in their new country. One of these grants is for artists, including singers. I figured, what the heck, I could use the grant towards setting up voice over shop.

Our Absorption Department submitted my information, and eventually, I received an invitation to audition. Actually, I received a faxed and photocopied piece of paper that was in Hebrew. Our always-to-the-translating-rescue cousins translated the paper and told me I had an audition. Since I wasn't initially told that there would be an audition, I had no idea what it was for. Once I spoke to the office, we figured it all out. I had applied for an audition to receive a grant. Ah, all is clear now.

These auditions are held once every 6 months. Here is the rundown of how they have been scheduled:

Audition 1, Oct '09: The day after I was leaving for a trip to the States
Audition 2, Mar '10: Two days before Passover. I guess people complained, because this was cancelled.
Audition 2, rescheduled, May '10: Two days after I was scheduled for surgery
Audition 3, Sep '10: Scheduled for September 13. The notice was dated August 25. I received it today, September 21.

I think I'm not supposed to be auditioning for this grant. What do you say?

MAZAL TOV!

2010-08-26T12:29:00.003+03:00

We went to our first Israeli Bar Mitzvah¹ today. That's not entirely true, we've been to a number of family B'nei Mitzvot here in Israel, but our family is... well... unique. Considering the family alone makes up the bulk of the guests, there's always someone to talk to. And y'know, it's family.

But surprise, surprise, this was pretty much like every other Orthodox Bar Mitzvah we've been to. Except it was Thursday, not Saturday. And the party followed the davening (prayers), rather than having to be Saturday night (due to various Shabbat restrictions). And despite it being Thursday, there were still Cohanim². One of whom was a teenager - so cute! (Is it wrong to refer to a Cohen as "cute"?)

Otherwise, there were the requisite speeches, ribbing by the siblings, tears from the mother, musicians, photographers, videographers and dancin' fools. The main difference between this Bar Mitzvah, and those I've attended in North America? The instant the music started, the teenage BOYS were out of the chairs and onto the dance floor. Yes, the boys. Here, boys think nothing of dancing together and holding hands when they do it. It's a beautiful thing to see. They were even line dancing at the end.

Oh, and the other difference? The photographer was a) packing heat³, and b) while walking around the womens' section during the repetition of the Amidah⁴, was responding "Baruch Hu uVaruch Sh'mo" while snapping away.

Mazal tov to the family, mazal tov to the Bar Mitzvah, mazal tov to Am Yisrael!

1 - Bar Mitzvah/B'nei Mitzvot. Rite of passage for 13 year old boys. Girls have a Bat Mitzvah at age 12. Contrary to common thought, the Bar Mitzvah is the boy, not the event.

2 - Cohen/Cohanim. Members of the priestly tribe of Judaism. Descendants of Moses's brother Aaron, their responsibilities lie mainly in the Temple. Until the Temple is rebuilt, may it be soon, we keep them busy by giving them small parts in the daily services.

3 - Packing heat. Really? You needed a definition for this one? ;) Carrying a gun. Not at all an uncommon sight in Israel. Except, apparently, in Eilat.

4 - Amidah. Silent prayer, which is then repeated out loud by the person leading the services. During the repetition, the congregation responds at various points with "Baruch Hu uVaruch Sh'mo" (Blessed is He and blessed is His name")

A dance a day

2010-08-04T13:29:00.005+03:00

There are lots of cool things about living in a country that has thousands of years of history in evidence everywhere you turn. ~~I have written before~~ I have apparently failed to write about the cool places right around us, where we take all our visitors. Five minutes away we have an archeological wonderland with remains of a Byzantine Inn, Jewish village with ancient mikva'ot (ritual baths), Arab village and a Crusader Fortress all in one place. Five minutes in the other direction, we have Ben Shemen Forest, which contains the graves of the Maccabees.

We take Maimo on hikes to these places, especially since he seems to enjoy peeing on the Crusaders. So yesterday, Maimo and I packed up and went for a hike through the forest, starting off at the ancient tomb of a local Sheik. There are a number of Orthodox Jews who believe the tomb is not that of a Sheik, but rather, it's the tomb of Matityahu HaCohen, father of Simon and Judah and the rest of the Maccabees. Quite frequently, we see families coming to visit the kever (tomb). It's kind of funny, because the State of Israel has placed a plaque identifying the tomb and giving some background on the Sheik. The Jews who believe it's the grave of Matityahu, spray paint over it with the words, "Matityahu HaCohen." The government comes back and replaces the plaque, the group comes back and spray paints. Ad infinitum.

On our way back from our walk, I noticed a Chassidic man strolling the path ahead of us. Not wanting Maimo to run up and say hello and possibly scare the man, I put Maimo back on his leash and continued to the car. Good thing, too, because while I was looking for the keys to open the car, a police officer drove by (dogs are supposed to be on leash pretty much everywhere. No running free for them, sadly). We got into the car, and since I was on the phone, we sat there for a few minutes so I could finish my conversation.

Which gave me the opportunity to see the man come back to his car, another man got out of the driver's side, and in the middle of the forest, next to the tomb of an old Sheik, the two of them proceeded to dance in the middle of the gravel road.

They had regular hats, not "shtreimels" and longer coats, but this is how they were dancing.

So not only did the Chassidic men save me from a possible ticket for having an unleashed dog, they also put a huge smile on my face. How can you not smile at men dancing with joy in the middle of ancient history and modern trees?

Well, who needs a balcony - or sleep - really?

2010-07-26T11:14:00.009+03:00

Oh, the pounding in my head. Oh, wait. That's actually the pounding outside my head. When we lived in Vancouver, everywhere you turned, there was construction. Houses were bought, torn down and new monster homes - usually du- or triplexes - were built in their place. It happened to the house across the street from us, the house next door, the house behind us and the house diagonally across from us. Every. single. day we would wake up to the crashing noises of timber being ripped off its foundation, bulldozers razing walls. Then it began next to us. The house next door was so close, we were convinced the bulldozer was knocking into us. Every few minutes, we'd hear a crashing noise and our house would vibrate. Since we had already decided to make aliyah, we couldn't wait to get out of there and get some peace and quiet!

Well, our peace and quiet lasted about a year or so. Over the course of the last year, construction - which has been in the planning stages for years - began in earnest on the apartment complex and park on our street. Right across the street from us. Like, directly across the street.

The hill across the street - before

For months, we've been waking up to the sound of breaker machines tearing apart the boulders that make up the lovely hillside across the street from us. They finally stopped a few weeks ago, and we thought, "At last!" They were ready to pour concrete.

No dice. They stopped long enough to throw down some rebar, and put up some construction walls, then started completely decimating the hill right outside our patio. The machines are now right outside our bedroom window, at the same height as our 3rd floor apartment.

This was a couple of weeks ago. There's even less of the hill now.

Which means not only are we hearing the noise (the volume has necessitated sleeping with earplugs, because the construction starts at 6:30am), but we are now enjoying the vibration of the d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d. Any thoughts of dining on our balcony have been quashed under the layers of dirt and dust tossed about by the construction.

I couldn't transfer the video I took of the actual machines, but this is the exact same melody. Just multiply by two and take less breaks.

To top this off, work has now started in the field behind our apartment. The field is already flat, so the breaker machines aren't necessary. The machines that pour concrete for the foundation aren't quite as loud as the breakers, but that's not saying much.

So now we're left with dust and noise in the front, and noise in the back. We haven't been able to open our windows in over a month, and I'm going through dust rags (even through closed windows!) like crazy. Which, of course, means that the air conditioner has to be on far more than it would otherwise. Which also means, of course, we're going to have one nasty electric bill.

When our landlord first told us he was not renewing our lease (he wants more money for the apartment. Or to sell it. Good luck with either one right now), we were disappointed. We like our neighbourhood, and our neighbours, and really love our apartment. The development companies are conspiring to make us really look forward to a change of environment. We even considered moving to a settlement, if only because there's a construction freeze.

I may be forced to go to the beach tomorrow, just to get some peace and quiet.

Update: our landlord must have come around the neighbourhood, or he called his agent who said, "are you effin kidding?!" because he called us asking if we wanted to stay. So to save expenses and the pain of moving, we're staying. The electric bill will be cheaper than paying for movers.

How to look like an idiot without even trying

2010-07-22T12:28:00.002+03:00

The conversation went something like this:

Me: (in Hebrew) I want to make an appointment with Dr. X
Guy on phone: Im Dr. X b'Modi'in? (with Dr. X in Modi'in?)
Me: Ken. (yes)
GOP: Mi holech l'rofe? (who is going to the doctor?)
Me: [Brain fart]

I didn't understand the question. Who is going to the doctor? I don't know - his patients? Is there a party at his office? Do I need to bring a date? It's a contextual thing; I've never been asked this before when making a doctor's appointment. I'm going to the doctor. Who else would it be? (Remember, I do not have children, so I am not used to making appointments for other people. Plus, I've never been asked this before.)

Finally, I get it and I say:

Me: ani. Aliza Ahltmahn (me. Alissa Altman)
GOP: b'ivrit (in Hebrew)
Me: Ma? (What?)

Then the brain really shut down. "In Hebrew"? I answered him in Hebrew. I don't understand. He asked me if I'd prefer English, I said yes, he said something really quickly that I think was he'd get me an English operator, wished me a good day and then hung up.

So.... does that mean someone's going to call me back? Did he accidently disconnect when he meant to put me on hold? Is he banging his head against his desk, sighing, "Anglos"? Did he go on his lunch break thinking, another day, another dumbutt?

:sigh:

Making a doctor's appointment is not difficult Hebrew. I know all the words necessary to make an appointment. Yet, I failed. I know what to say, I just can't understand what people say to me, especially if it's out of context or unexpected. And once I'm thrown, I can't get myself back on track.

This is true for a number of situations. I can get along okay in simple Hebrew, as long as I keep the sentences short and no one ever answers me. Just let me talk, and if you need to tell me something, use hand gestures.

We'll manage just fine. Who needs actual conversations, anyway?

Jerusalem Romance

2010-07-19T15:42:00.008+03:00

A poem for Tisha B'Av (the 9 Days)

Jerusalem Romance

Walk with me through ancient alleys
on polished cobblestones
by stations of bygone sallies
Walk with me through ancient alleys

seven hills and graven valleys
filled with long-forgotten bones
Walk with me through ancient alleys
on polished cobblestone

Happy different anniversary to us

2010-07-13T14:53:00.003+03:00

Just a few days ago, on the 10th of July, we celebrated our two-year aliyahversary. Two years of living in Israel, as Israelis (and just one year away from being cleared of our Nefesh b'Nefesh grant!).

Last year, we did something we've never done before; we went on a cruise. We could do it because a) the cruise was kosher(!), and b) the cruise was extremely affordable. All those years of watching the cruise liners come in and out of the port at Vancouver, and now we could be one of those on the ship instead of just watching it.

(Last year, I also wrote a blog post commemorating our first aliyahversary.)

During the cruise, Morey realized that we would be coming back just before our one-year aliyahversary. He noted that it was a nice way to celebrate; making aliyah all over again. Aliyah really means ascending; we use it to refer to people moving to Israel, because they are ascending to the Holy Land. So, really, it's relevant to anyone who is entering the Land, whether permanently or as a tourist. Morey joked about observing our aliyahversary every year, by going away and returning on or around our anniversary date.

It accidently happened again this year. All us kids went to Pennsylvania to celebrate our mother's 65th birthday. Since we didn't want to be travelling during the 9 days, it worked out that the best flight home to Israel would be leaving on the 7th of July, arriving on the 8th. So yes, we landed in Israel - made aliyah - two days before our 2nd aliyah anniversary.

Wonder where we're going to go next year?

Mishaberach L'Chayalei Zahal*

2010-06-17T15:33:00.008+03:00

*Prayer for Israel's Defense Forces

Well, we can't visit Gilad Shalit, but this morning, we were able to visit I. & D., two of the Navy Seals injured on the Humaniterror Flotilla.

Standing Together, an organization dedicated to letting the soldiers of the IDF know how much they are appreciated by the people they protect, organized a trip this morning to visit the two soldiers. With baskets of goodies in hand, we convoyed to Tel HaShomer hospital to meet up with our Navy Seal escort.

One of these two good-looking, young soldiers was in great spirits, with his family around; the other was more quiet and seemed a bit uncomfortable with the attention, but was surrounded by friends from the Seals (male & female). Interviews weren't allowed, and of course, we couldn't take pictures of the soldiers, but we wished them well (the Hebrew speakers did. I stood around and smiled a lot).

They've received lots of posters and notes, which are up on the wall of their hospital rooms. This is just a small sample.

(And yes, they have seen "We Con The World" and thought it was funny.)

Three weeks after the attack, and these two young men are still in hospital, bandaged, in casts, on crutches, faced with still more recovery and rehab. If anyone wants to question how real this attack was, come talk to us.

Rabbit or hare, it's still a bunny

2010-06-13T12:31:00.003+03:00

What the hell is wrong with us? I've sort of gotten used to Hamas, Hezbollah, Islamic Jihad, et al terrorists being referred to as "militants." It infuriates me that the rest of the world does not see people who blow up schoolchildren on a bus as terrorists, but I know I can't change that.

Today I read the following headline: "Muslim militants behead 3 Filipino loggers" Fairly benign - "muslim militants" can mean anything in this context. Open the article, however, and the very first line - in fact, the very first words - read "Al-Qaida-linked militants..."

I've moved to the other side of the world, and I'm getting older now so I forget things sometimes, so please do correct me if I'm mistaken, but wasn't Al-Qaida the ladies auxiliary group responsible for dropping four planes on our big, fat US ass, two on the World Trade Center and one on the Pentagon, killing nearly 3000 people?

"Militants"?? The FBI regularly referred to groups such as the Black Panthers and the Weathermen as terrorists, yet the damage they did was negligible compared to what modern terrorist groups have accomplished. And still, we wuss out and call them militants.

Our (and by "our" I mean all targets of Muslim extremist goups) enemies have repeatedly stated that their goal is to destroy us, to Islamicize the world. As long as we continue to consider our enemies "the misunderstood little boy next door," no matter how many times he drowns our kittens and sets our garage on fire, we will lose this battle.

You must know your enemy in order to defeat him. The idiot who throws red paint on your fur coat is a militant. The man who beheads you because you are a Jew or Christian is a terrorist. It's time we spoke the truth.

Shavuot, or that holiday that makes you go, "huh?"

2010-05-17T21:19:00.005+03:00

Shavuot is on Wednesday. Shavuot is the holiday that celebrates the giving of the Torah (old testament to some of you, but basically, the 5 Books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Leviticus and Deuteronomy). Or, the Jews' receiving the Torah from G-d, depending on how you want to look at it.

Normally, I'm at a bit of a loss as to how to properly observe Shavuot. There really aren't any rituals associated with this holiday, unlike Passover, with the matzah and bitter herbs and reading of the Haggadah, or Sukkot, where we sit in our little home-made booths and shake our willow branches, or Yom Kippur, where we pray and fast, or even Chanukah, where we light candles for 8 nights. There are traditions, like eating cheesecake, or (trying) to stay up all night learning Torah, but those are just traditions, not mitzvot (commandments) associated with the day.

This year, I have no problem. The Torah was given to us, the soon-to-be Jewish people, at Mt. Sinai, on our way out of Egypt to the land G-d promised us, thousands of years ago. The Torah has been our guide book, our book of laws, our instructions on how to live since then. From the Torah, we learn how to treat guests, we learn to respect our parents, we learn to think about the food we eat, how to treat our animals, even our land. We are told to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.

From the story of Abraham's circumsion, when he is visited by G-d during his recuperation (Genesis 18:1), we learn of the importance of visiting the sick. This lesson became the life-raft that kept me afloat during this past month. When I found myself in the Emergency Room a month ago, followed by a two-week hospital stay, followed by surgery, not a day went by in the hospital without someone visiting me. And that's not counting Morey and my sister, who spent so much time by my side. My classmates from Nishmat, the seminary where I learn, came and made me laugh, brought me illicit treats and gave me something to look forward to day after day. My cousin and her husband walked on Shabbat and kept me from feeling sorry for myself for spending Shabbat in the hospital. Friends I barely know, and friends I know well came from around the corner and from a 40-minute bus ride away. Some took time out of their holidays to visit. The hospital rabbi employs people to check in on patients and visit with them, and at least 3 different religious men went into each and every room, to every bed to wish the occupant a "r'fuah shlema" (basically, a healing for your soul, but it's shorthand for a prayer for healing that we say in each of our 3-times-a day prayers). Someone came around with free newspapers, and a lovely, oh-so-shy young woman came around with goodie bags. My phone has never been so busy as it was during those two weeks in hospital, with calls from family, friends, acquintances, neighbours who couldn't make it into Jerusalem, even my teachers and Rabbi from Nishmat.

I have been so blessed by all the love and care that was showered on me - and Morey. We say it in our prayers every day, "bikur cholim" (visit the sick), but how many of us actually take it to heart? I know I really didn't. This year, I'm going to focus on this Torah lesson (opens a pdf), and be truly grateful for all the people who do take this mitzvah seriously, and be thankful to Hashem for giving us this commandment. It's not easy to visit someone who is sick, and hospitals are no one's idea of a fun place to hang out. But for those who accept that performing this mitzvah is bigger than their discomfort, from the bottom of my heart, bless you. Chag Sameach

One Minute

2010-04-18T20:36:00.002+03:00

Last year, when the siren went off for one minute in the evening to mark the beginning of Yom HaZikaron יום הזכרון לחללי מערכות ישראל ולנפגעי פעולות האיבה‎ (Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror), a time when everyone stops what they are doing and stands in silence, Morey and I were home alone. The following day when the siren went off for a full two minutes (again, standing in silence), we were in Ulpan, Hebrew class. For the majority of us, this was our first Yom HaZikaron as Israelis. There was a sense of solidarity of being a people together on this day, but there was also a distinct separateness. We'd only been in the country, most of us, for a few months. We understood the loss this day memorializes, but we couldn't really feel it.

That was really driven home when we went to the ceremony at the school that hosted the Ulpan class. The students and faculty memorialized their former students and classmates, along with the brothers, fathers, uncles, sons and friends they had lost. To see these normally boisterious teenage boys crumbling into the arms of their teachers, tears shamelessly pouring down their young faces, really made us appreciate the difference between the new kids and the "real" Israelis.

This year, thank God, I'm still a new kid. But this year, because I'm in hospital (that's a different post altogether), when the siren went off in the evening, I was standing with a very mixed group of people. I knew no one, and no one knew me. We were all Israelis standing together in a moment of silence for our fallen soldiers, for those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their countrymates, and for the families who now have a gaping hole where a loved one once stood. An entirely different feeling.

The interesting part of experiencing the siren at the hospital, is that everyone is welcome at this hospital, as in every hospital within Israel. That means, standing outside with us were Arabs. Arab Israelis are exempt from serving in the Israeli Defense Forces, yet some choose to. Most are Druze or Bedouin, but some Arab Israeli do serve. For the most part, there's no way to tell if someone is Arab Muslim, Arab Christian, Druze, modernized Bedouin and there's no way to tell if that person is anti-Israel or supportive of Israel.

So here we are, all of us standing together, when the siren goes off that memorializes Israeli soldiers who have died mainly in wars and situations fighting Arab armies and terrorists. The Arabs around me kept talking and ignored the siren, but I noticed they talked quietly. Were they ignoring something they felt didn't apply to them, but being respectful at the same time? Or was it just the environment of being at a hospital? I'll never know, but as I go back to my room and say hello to my lovely Arab nurse, and think about the Arab doctor who was the one who finally figured out what was wrong with me, and the Arab man in the room next to me whose family is gathered around him, never leaving him alone, I realize it's yet another beautiful, crazy dichotomy of living in Israel.

May Hashem bless the souls of the fallen, the families who live with the loss daily, may their memories be for a blessing upon all of us and may the day come when we no longer add any names to the list of those to remember.

Just another day in The Land

2010-04-13T14:29:00.008+03:00

One of the facts of life of living in Israel is that a lot of our neighbours want to get rid of us. Not very hospitable, I know, but there you have it. No need to recap the terrorist history; every knows about pizza places, cafes, buses and hotels being bombed, and the people who have been killed. I learn at a womens' seminary, Nishmat, in Jerusalem in a program named in honor of Alisa Flatow, a victim of one such attack.

As a result, Israelis have to live with lots of security. Everytime you go into a mall, you show your bags for inspection and go through a metal detector. If you park in a public garage, keep your trunk unlocked for security to check. Nearly every restaurant in Jerusalem has a guard you have to get by. When you go into the train or bus station, your bags will go through an x-ray machine and you will go through yet another metal detector. Just to get into the airport complex, never mind the actual building, you have to go through security. Even when you drop your child off at nursery school, you will pass and say good morning to the armed security guard standing outside his or her booth.

www.paulasays.com

We learn to live with it; we learn to accept seeing armed guards protecting us while we shop for milk and eggs.

Still, it gets our attention when, while driving to one our local shopping centres to go to lunch with Morey's visiting mother on her last day here, we get waved away from the main entrance. Idle curiousity makes us wonder why there are more-armed-than-usual police officers in the street, while we sit in the restaurant watching, speculating on what's going on. We guess that it's a חפץ חשוד - suspicious object - and we continue to watch as the police block off the road, and the Moked (I don't know how to translate that - they're city staff) arrive. It's all an interesting distraction, until the police come into the restaurant and evacuate us.

Until that point, everything was kind of casual. "Oh neat, they'll bring in the sappers. I want to see the robot." Once you get evacuated, it kind of occurs to you that there's a chance this one might be more than someone's forgotten backpack.

It's interesting to note that we all were quite lackadaisical about clearing out. We did it, but there was no panic, no rush. The people next to us took the time to pay their bill, rather than come back afterwards. Most of us went to the back of the centre and started browsing in the stores there, or made phone calls. But still, everyone who was close enough, watched. It may be a fact of life, but we still want to know for sure.

After two controlled explosions and some gunfire, we were given the all-clear. We went back to the restaurant, got our food, drank our now-cold coffee, and went on with our day as if nothing happened.

Just another day in the Land. For the reasons why we have to blow up every carelessly left-behind suitcase, backpack, cardboard box or package, and why we have to have guards at malls, grocery stores, restaurants and schools, please read this beautiful tribute by Paul Stern.

Don't Passover the details

2010-04-01T13:08:00.008+03:00

The Seventh Plague, John Martin, 1823

There are many aspects of the Biblical record that are disturbing. But, Torah is not a simple collection of sweet children's stories and morality plays; it's a record of a people's relationship with their G-d, and as such, both good and bad are depicted. In other words, the nasty stuff could have been excised to make us look better, but morally, it made more sense to leave in abhorrent behaviour so that later generations could discuss and learn. These discussions make up the Talmud, and other texts.

The depiction of the Exodus includes a number of actions that depict both G-d and the Hebrews in a disturbing light. Why did G-d harden Pharaoh's heart so that more plagues could be unleashed? Why did the Hebrews need to liberate a fortune in silver and gold from the emotionally-broken Egyptians when they fled?

And why celebrate a festival in which multitudes of innocent Egyptians perished so that we could be free?

The answer is, we don't. During the seder, we dip wine in remembrance of the plagues and the Egyptians killed. As well, there's a significant Midrash (interpretive teaching) which is often discussed during the Passover season, in which the angels are chastised by G-d for celebrating the deaths of Egyptians:

"The Egyptians were drowning in the sea. At the same time, the angels wanted to sing before God, and the Lord, God, said to them: 'My creations are drowning and you are singing before me?'" (Sanhedrin 39a)

It would be a mistake to deny ourselves an opportunity to celebrate on the grounds that others suffered. This is generally the outcome of any conflict. We can both celebrate and memorialize at the same time; they're not mutually exclusive conditions. It would also be a mistake to whitewash history - even religious history - when we can learn from the past. Passover is not an exercise in self-congratulations; it's an annual reminder of human suffering, an opportunity for improvement on a spiritual level, and a catalyst for action in a world in which man-made adversity continues.

people who need people

2010-03-18T21:04:00.004+02:00

Our friend Rachel and her brother Ben have created a really cool app called sleeQo. One of these days, Rachel will post how to pronounce that. We've been having fun with it on Facebook, when it occurred to me, I should try it out where it's actually intended to be used - on the blog! I made it applicable to our blog by using the "5 Things New Olim Should Know" meme (which, thanks to Rachel, I just learned is pronounced "meem." I've been totally uncool by calling it a "meemee" all these years).

Try it out! I'm resisting the temptation to go fill them all in right now. The way things are going lately, I'm going to need "filler"!

5 Things New Olim Should Know

Rules: Post 5 things that a new immigrant to Israel needs to know. No politics!

You pay for everything at the post office. Health care, driver's license, bills, you name it.
Whatever time your appointment is, expect it to start half an hour later. But you're still expected to be on time.
Kosher food is everywhere!
No matter how hot you think it is, it will get hotter.
You will never find more people willing to help you do whatever you need to do. Most will offer, but don't be afraid to ask. The answer will always be either "yes" or "I can't, but I know someone who can"

Nobody tagged Click here to fill in this meme

Dig, people, dig!

2010-03-07T11:12:00.004+02:00

One of the amazingly cool things about living in Israel is construction. Yes, construction. Or rather, they byproducts of construction. When someone tears down the house right next door to you to build a new one in, say, Vancouver, and you spend day after day listening to the aural equivalent of a landslide and feeling your own house vibrate as if you were in the middle of one, the only thing they're likely to dig up is - well, nothing. Chances are this is the 4th or 5th house built on this location, and if there were anything to find, it's long gone by now. And it's more likely there wasn't anything to find in the first place.

In Israel, when construction starts on apartment buildings, it's almost always on land that hasn't been touched. At least, not touched for hundreds of years. And many times, in the course of construction, they find something. And that something is protected by the government, and must be reported and explored.

Which means, if you live in a construction zone, you can wind up with an archeological dig right across the street. Cool! Wonder if they'll take volunteers?

View from our balcony

Israsick

2010-02-11T23:08:00.003+02:00

Being sick in Israel stinks. Not for lack of quality healthcare, and certainly not for lack of affordable drugs.

As we've mentioned here before, there's a wordplay on new immigrants and the fact that new immigrants get sick. A lot. The word for "immigrants" is olim and "new," plural, is chadashim (that's "ch" as in throat-clearing, not "ch" as in Charlie). So, "new olim" are olim chadashim (in Hebrew the adjective goes after the noun).

The word for "sick people" is cholim (again, that throat-clearing "ch").

So, olim chadashim - new immigrants - becomes cholim chadashim - new sick people. Ha ha.

However, the longer I'm here, the more I realize everybody gets sick a lot here, whether you've been here 6 months, 6 years or 6 decades. Everytime I turn around, somebody's sick. And not that "I don't feel like going to school/work/meeting with my boss" sick. Or the, "I'm not feeling well today so I won't go in, but I'll work tomorrow" sick, either. No, here, people get mamash (really really) sick. Head-throbbing, can't breathe, sinuses clogged up like a camel in a sandstorm (see how I did that? How Israeli am I?) sick. A lot.

I blame children.

Israel is blessed with a lot of children. Children who play together in maon and gan (daycare and nursery school). Children who wipe their noses and then share their toys with their mates. Children who so adorably hold hands when playing. Then go home and kiss their Emas (moms)or their little siblings. Then the Emas hand the toys to the Abas (dads), who, while out for a walk, shake hands with their neighbour. Who then grabs his child's hand... and so it goes.

I know this happens everywhere. But people are a little more ~~paranoid~~ conscious of antibiotic soaps and liquid sanitizers and washing hands every 5 minutes in the US and Canada. We also have a load more kids per square inch in Israel. We're also a very huggy, touchy-feely group over here.

Frankly, I love it. I love the kids, I love the contact and I wouldn't trade the hugs and kisses for anything. But I suspect this is the cause of our constant illnesses. That and our collective sinus conditions.

But I digress. This is not why I gripe. No, my gripe is that when I do get sick, I get sick bad. I don't necessarily mind being sick, what is getting to me is I don't know the drugs here! I want DayQuil! I want NyQuil! When my sister got married last year and was fighting a bad cold that would not quit, her most urgent request to my soon-to-be arriving mother (along with sneakers, q-tips and ziplock bags) was NyQuil.

I've tried different drugs, but I never cared about the ingredients; I just wanted to feel better and Day/NyQuil worked. So far, nothing here works. And don't even get me started on the cough syrup here. Every single one on the market (and my doctor checked!) contains Sorbitol, which I cannot take. I know this because I took some before I knew I couldn't. Trust me on this one. So I'm stuck taking cough drops which contain loads of sugar, which means my choice is either stay up coughing all night, or don't cough, but stay up because I'm wired on a sugar high. Tough call.

I just want my DayQuil and my NyQuil. Or something exactly like them. I want the security of knowing I'm taking something that will make me feel better. Or, in the case of NyQuil, not care if I'm not feeling better.

Oh, and my over-the-counter cough syrup with codeine. Sometimes I really miss Canada.

Blogger's event

2010-02-04T20:22:00.002+02:00

Hey, there's actually one of these events right here in Modi'in. How cool is that?

A bunch of bloggers are getting together this Sunday evening for an event entitled, "What do I write about next?" Obviously, this is a good event for us me to attend, since we pretty much let the blog go dark all of January. We were busy. Yeah, that's it.

Anyhoo, sorry for the late notice (I said we were busy) but if you live in Israel, and you blog, come along. Hosted by Baila, the speaker will be Hannah Katsman, from A Mother in Israel.

There's more information, and the registration page, here.

Breakfast at Persephone's

2010-01-26T20:58:00.002+02:00

or, when blog worlds collide.

I have another blog, that I keep anonymous, that was very active for a while there. I haven't done much with it in a long while, but while I was actively blogging on that site, I made friends with a few fellow bloggers. We would communicate with each other off-blog, and if any of us found ourselves in another's hometown, we would "out" ourselves and get together.

One such blogger is Persephone. Over the years, she has given me lots of great advice, directed me to knowledgeable people, and helped me keep my sanity. It just never worked out that when I was in her hometown, I was able to see her. We outed ourselves to each other a while back, and stay in touch.

She connected me to a friend of hers who moved to Modi'in, and we all have another blogger friend in common, who is also part of the communication circle.

The point of all this, is once I moved to Israel, I despaired of ever meeting Persephone in person. I no longer have any reason to be in her hometown when I visit the States, and anyway, the chances of my visiting the States now have been greatly reduced. Ahhhh...but, sooner or later, everyone comes to Israel.

And so it was, that along with our Modi'in friend, Persephone and I had breakfast together, in person, in Israel. And B"H, 'Seph is just as lovely in real life as she is in the internets.

Lovely to meet you, Persephone. Or whatever your name is ;)

Brother can you spare a dollar?

2009-12-28T19:08:00.003+02:00

If you think a dollar doesn't make a difference, if you hesitate to make a donation to someone or some group because you can only give a dollar or two and you think that's too little to help, you need to read this.

Love146 is one of those organizations that scares the heck out of me. Mainly, because it hurts so much to think that there is a need for an organization like this. Even scarier is to think, what if Love146 didn't exist? Who would care?

Cake Wrecks is a silly little website that brilliantly makes fun of bad cakes. If I have time, sometimes I like to visit the site to see what monstrosities have been posted. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

But a few weeks ago, the owner of Cake Wrecks, Jen, and her husband, John, threw out a challenge. Donate a dollar a day to selected charities. That works out to $14 a person, if you give $1 every day. Most people can afford that. Brilliant idea. But what kind of impact could this possibly have?

Over the course of the two weeks, Cake Wrecks was responsible for about $70,000 in donations to various charities. That's 70 thousand, people. During the worst recession in years.

And for Love146*, that meant over $10,000.

So, yes. One dollar can make a hell of a difference. Go donate one now.

If you'd like to participate in Cake Wrecks dollar-a-day, the event itself is over, but the list of charities can be found here. There's never a bad time to donate. Or, research your own organizations - Google a cause that's important to you plus the word "donate". I guarantee you'll find something.

*If you think the sex/slave trade doesn't happen in your backyard, you'd be very wrong.

Okay. Okay? Okay!

2009-12-27T13:57:00.005+02:00

Another important lesson learned in the grand education of living in a country where the national language is not your native tongue.

When scheduling recording sessions with your client and the studio engineer, and the dialogue goes something like this:

SE: Sunday at 11am
Me: I'm available
Client: No, I have a problem.
SE: (Something in Hebrew.)
Client: Wait, let me call my office.

(SE & Me discuss other schedule possibilities for the following week while waiting)

Client (hanging up phone): Ze b'seder ("it's okay").
SE: B'seder?
Client: Ken, ken ("yes, yes").

make sure that the "b'seder" that has just been spoken refers to the appointment, and not to the "something in Hebrew" so that you don't shlep all the way to Tel Aviv for nothing.

Well, not for nothing. I gave tzedekah (charity) and bought an iced coffee, and got to watch half the IDF try to cram themselves onto a train for Be'er Sheva. Lama? Ein li musag.*

*Why? I have no idea.

This is a but a very small portion of the number of soldiers jamming the platform.
It looked like Black Friday at the IDF WalMart.

You shuk me all night long

2009-12-17T17:13:00.006+02:00

Why is my Blogger page in Hebrew? Ugh, so annoying. But I'm davka leaving it like that so I will get used to "hee-ca-ness" instead of "enter site"

Anyhoo - I was supposed to go for coffee this week with my friend Kate. At the last minute (okay, two days before) she suggested we go to the shuk* in Ramle. Now, I've heard of the shuk in Ramle, but I thought, how on earth could it compare to the shuk, Mahane Yehuda, in Jerusalem? Other than being 15 minutes closer with free parking, that is. So, I'd never bothered to go. Here's a ready-made opportunity to check out this so-called shuk, and, because we'd be bringing Kate's 5-year-old daughter who needs a car seat, have someone else do the driving!

I'm not a foodie, the Health Inspector would generally prefer that I not cook, and it's well known that I'm not a fan of shopping. However, I love going to the shuk. There's something about the stalls, the colours, the vendors yelling out their specials, the nutty things you can find (literally and figuratively - from yapping stuffed dogs [why would anyone want one?] to walnuts, pistachios, almonds and hazels) that I just enjoy. There's also some comfort in knowing, having sensory issues, I'm not the only one overloaded.

Can you believe the size of that squash?

I managed to buy cucumbers and a bottle of creme liquer (yes, cukes for someone else and booze, while Kate bought practically her entire Shabbat meal), and Kate's daughter, the Divine Miss M, did a wonderful job of keeping me distracted in the meat store so I didn't have to look at the chicken carcasses with the feet still attached. *shudder*

We found a beautiful veggie stall with an English speaker, and I made a nice new Arab friend, Eyab, when I bought the liquer. I didn't get any coffee, but I got some delicious chickpea concoction that was like an inside out falafel ball, and a honey-dipped, fried thing just for Chanukah. And had a great morning with some friends. Oh yeah - and I got a lovely, but questionable salad recipe from Miss M, who is apparently obsessed with red peppers. And knows what lemon zest is! What 5-year-old knows that?!

I now know where the Ramle shuk is and where to park, and you can be sure I'm going there again. Thank you, Kate!

*shuk = market. Lots of stalls crammed together in a small space with great prices, great food products, lots of colour and lots of noise

It's a capital idea!

2009-12-09T10:33:00.005+02:00

In light of the EU's recent announcement, I hereby recognize Warsaw as the capital of Poland and Austria, and Madrid as the capital of Spain and the Basques.

Or, you can do what Morey did and write a thoughtful, thorough piece giving historic background to the eternal connection between the Jews and Jerusalem. Read it. It's worth it.

Interested in getting a little dirty?

2009-12-03T10:16:00.012+02:00

אַתָּה תָקוּם, תְּרַחֵם צִיּוֹן: כִּי-עֵת לְחֶנְנָהּ, כִּי-בָא מוֹעֵד: כִּי-רָצוּ עֲבָדֶיךָ, אֶת-אֲבָנֶיהָ; וְאֶת-עֲפָרָה יְחֹנֵנו.
תהלים קב, יד-טו

Thou wilt arise, and have compassion upon Zion; for it is time to be gracious unto her, for the appointed time is come: For Thy servants take pleasure in her stones, and love her dust. (Psalms 102: 14-15)

If you're into getting your hands dirty, learning about archaeology and potentially making an enormous contribution to Jewish knowledge, here's your chance. The Temple Mount Sifting Project desperately needs your help.

The Project of Sifting the Debris from the Temple Mount
18/11/09

When we began the Temple Mount Sifting Project five years ago, we had no idea what was ahead of us. We did not understand the enormous amount of work that would be necessary to extract archaeological information from the tons of haphazardly dumped material, and we were also completely unaware of the great interest that the public would take in the project and the scores of people who would be willing to volunteer. We also did not even begin to comprehend the educational impact of our work, and that we had embarked on a lifetime project with great national significance. We initially thought that after a couple of months of sifting the project will be over.

After eight months of work the project nearly closed down, but the Ir David Foundation adopted the project with the intention of funding it until all the debris had been sifted. We have continued to operate under their auspices for nearly five years.

Unfortunately, because of the current economic situation, we are once again faced with the potential of having to end our important work. Though the Ir David Foundation found emergency funding which enabled us to keep the project going, we have been forced to reduce our staff to a minimum, and we have not been able to implement our plans for the analysis and publication of the finds. Our plans were to establish an archaeological lab with a permanent staff that will work for two to three years on this task, hire various experts for special types of finds, and sample various sites around the slopes of Jerusalem in order to create statistical control groups to compare to the prevalent finds from the Temple Mount.

It should be emphasized that the major contribution and effect of our research will come only after proper scientific analysis of the artifacts and publication of our findings. After this process our finds will enter academic discussions and will be accordingly referenced by other scholars. Eventually this effect will also permeate into the historical scientific study, popular archaeology and history books, and tourist guides.

In the case of this particular project, where the artifacts are out of stratified context, the main archaeological innovations and understanding of the phenomena of the prevalent finds will come only after an extensive quantitative study that includes the comparison of our finds with control group samples (see more details here).

The Temple Mount Sifting Project is not an operation for an elite group of archaeologists. It is now the property of the entire Jewish people, including the tens of thousands of volunteers from around the world, Jews and non-Jews alike, who have helped us sift through the rubble over the years. Many times throughout history, important projects are adopted by private donors who have the privilege of making a significant difference well before the State steps in to help. The Temple Mount Sifting Project is just such an opportunity.

Please take part in this effort to save the Temple Mount antiquities and help us to continue the educational programming which is having an immeasurable impact on thousands of visitors from all walks of life.

Sincerely,
Gabriel Barkay, PhD
Zachi Zweig

Basic information on the Project and how to volunteer (including a map to the site) can be found here.

HT: BiblePlacesBlog
Photograph of students at work provided by Todd Bolen.

Forget him, what about the victims?

2009-11-08T12:15:00.015+02:00

If I see one more smiling photograph of the man who went on a murderous rampage in Fort Hood, killing 13 people and wounding 30 more, I may throw up. Article after article talks about this man, interviews his family, talks about his background, his profession, his religion, how the FBI was deciding whether he was a person of interest.

He is irrelevant. He is nothing. He is dust. May his name be blotted out.

However, may the following names be remembered for a blessing. These are the victims, the ones killed by the murderous man. The ones we are not hearing about. The ones the media chooses not to focus on. I am focusing on them. May their families find strength in their memories.

Pfc Michael Pearson, 22. A musician, he wanted to study musical theory. The military was to be his way into college. Pearson was scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan or Iraq in january.

Pfc Aaron Thomas Nemelka, 19. Nemelka was the youngest of 4 children from Utah, and was set to deploy to Afghanistan in January. He enlisted after he graduated from high school.

Spc Jason Dean Hunt, 22. Hunt spent his 21st birthday in Iraq, and re-inlisted. He was scheduled to be deployed to Iraq. Hunt was recently married.

Sgt Amy Krueger, 29. A high school athlete, Krueger joined the military after the September 11 attacks.

Michael Grant Cahill, 62. Previously a registered nurse, Cahill served in the Army Reserve. He was assisting with deployment physicals when he was murdered.

Pfc Khm Xiong, 23. Xiong enlisted last year, and was preparing for his first deployment to Afghanistan.

Capt John Gaffaney, 56. A psychiatric nurse in California, Gaffaney assisted elderly victims of abuse and neglect. He had traveled to Fort Hood for an overseas deployment.

Staff Sgt Justin DeCrow, 32. Husband, and father to a 13-year-old daughter, DeCrow was in Fort Hood preparing for his deployment to Iraq. He had recently returned from a tour in South Korea.

Lt Col Juanita L. Warman, 55. A physician's assistant, Warman had spent most of her career in the military. Warman was mother to two daughters, and had six grandchildren.

Maj Libardo Eduardo Caraveo, 52. An immigrant from Mexico as a teenager, he was the first in his family to attend college, earning a PhD in psychology. Serving in the Army National Guard, Caraveo was preparing to deploy to Afghanistan with a combat-stress-control unit.

Capt Russell Seager, 51. Seager was a nurse with the VA Medical Center in Milwaukee, and had signed up for the Army Reserve. He was preparing to deploy to Iraq, and would have been working with troops to help prevent mental health problems.

spc Frederick Greene, 29. Greene, from Tennessee, had been married two years, and was raised by his twin sister after his mother's death. Greene was set to to deploy to Afghanistan.

Pvt Francheska Velez, 21. Velez enlisted three years ago. She had recently returned from Iraq, and had been transferred to Ft Hood. She was three months pregnant.

The other person we've hardly heard anything about is civilian officer Kimberly Munley. She ended the murder spree by shooting the killer. She sustained 3 gunshot wounds in the process, but never lost her nerve or her cool. Her herioc actions prevented more deaths and more wounded. Let's remember her name.

We wish a speedy and complete recovery to all the innocent wounded.

Eating Jerusalem

2009-11-01T17:34:00.003+02:00

If you're headed to Jerusalem soon and planning on visiting the Mahane Yehuda shuk, you might want to pick up this month's issue of Saveur Magazine. It features a pretty good review of some of the better known restaurants (and a few holes-in-the wall), some recipes (of course) and a short piece on some popular Israeli condiments.

You can also read the article entitled 'Jerusalem Mix' here, but then you'll miss the pretty pictures.

A little light book-keeping

2009-10-28T15:05:00.003+02:00

For years, I have been doing bookkeeping. I took a course a bajillion years ago, and it has served me well. I've been "financial operations" (fancy title for "bookkeeper"), accounts manager, accounts payable clerk, accounts receivable clerk, a/p AND a/r clerk, payroll manager, operations manager and office manager. When I moved from New Jersey to New York, I looked up NY State tax law and employment laws to learn what the differences were between the states. When I moved to Canada, I looked up and learned the Provincial tax laws, Federal tax laws, and employment laws (by the way, when I say "look up", I mean I called the government offices to send me the appropriate pamphlets and books, because we did not have Encyclopedia Googlica in those days).

Because I did a lot of freelance work, I looked up and learned what I needed to put on invoices, how to charge tax, how to pay the government the taxes I charged, how to pay employees, when I needed to file, how often - all the fun stuff that goes along with charging fees and paying the people involved in accumulating those fees.

Here in Israel, I am freelancing. I have no idea how taxes work here or how to keep books. I found out I need to have certain business identifications when people I did work for told me they needed to have a receipt from me. Okay, so I'll write a receipt.

Oh, nooooo. You can't just write a receipt here in Israel. What do you have to do? I have no idea. I've seen an accountant, who just confused me even more than I was when I started out. He said I should be an Osek Mursheh (a business category), and was talking to me about how to collect VAT (Value Added Tax), record it and report it to the government. He mentioned ledger books. The accountant spent a fair amount of time going over this information. He filed for us with the government, and when we finally received our certificates, I discovered they said Osek Patur (the other category).

But, but...?

We called the accountant and he, of course, said that he told us we should be Osek Patur, we don't make enough money yet to be Mursheh (nuh-uh, I have NOTES, mister!), we don't have to worry about collecting VAT. I should point out, this is the same man whose staff sends us emails in Hebrew that we can't understand, and when we call for an explanation, he tells us it was a mistake and not to worry about it. What?

ARGH!

During out meeting he told us we need to get pre-printed invoices and receipts. Then we were told we can print our own invoices, but need pre-printed receipts. Then the accountant told us we can do our own invoices, but he strongly recommends against it (according to him, the government is paranoid and thinks everyone who is freelance is out to cheat the government, and if you print your own invoices, you must be doing something sneaky). When we went to the printer, they were confused as hell, because apparently NOBODY who is an Osek Patur gets invoices printed.

AARRRRGGGHHHH!!!

For someone who has made a pretty good livelihood doing bookkeeping and related services, my frustration level with not being able to get a grip on all this is so high, I've developed a nervous tick that involves loud yelling just at hearing the words "invoice" or "receipt." It's just not acceptable that something so simple should be so confusing and convoluted. I know, I'm in Israel and that is just a ridiculous thing to say here. If something is simple, the Israeli government will find 15 ways to Tuesday to make it as difficult and complicated as possible. To be fair, though, the government is very good at taking already complicated things and making them pretty understandable. Everything in Israel is 'Afuch (upside down).

So meanwhile, my billing is piling up, and the government information is in Hebrew, so I can't teach myself the laws here - never mind the fact that many of the laws are still outdated. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if there are still laws on the books regarding income reporting to the British Mandate Authority!

"When citizens are reporting field profits in the region of Shomron, His Supreme Majesty Sultan Mehmed VI requires one sheep for every ..."

It's not that salaries are lower in Israel, it's just that no one can figure out how the hell to get paid! Tomorrow - a visit to accountant #2. Wish us luck.

Carnival time!

2009-10-05T18:25:00.003+02:00

This week's Haveil Havalim, or weekly blog carnival, or more simply a wrap-up of goings-on in the Jewish blogosphere, is up. And we're on it! Click on over to Esser Agaroth to see this week's goodies.

Just note that Morey's blog is "Rock Solid Writing" and I'm not sure why EA put a blog about aliyah under the category of "outside Israel" but hey, we're happy to be included :)

I'm gonna git you Succah!*

2009-10-01T17:48:00.006+02:00

* props to good friend Larry Getzler

Everything's better in Israel. Okay, 99% of everything is better in Israel. Right now, our succah was better in the Old Country (ie, Vancouver).

Let me explain. In Israel, we have a mirpeset (balcony). Based on Jewish law, our mirpeset is a kosher succah (hut-like thing) as soon as we put kosher schach (branch-like covering thing) on top. We bought a bamboo mat that we just roll out on top of our mirpeset. Well, Morey rolls it out, after he climbs up on the roof of the building.

Chick-chock, snip-snap, Bob's yer uncle, we have a kosher succah.

Except. It just looks like our mirpeset, just with a bamboo mat on top.

So we went out and bought cloth walls to hang from the roof of our mirpeset. The cloth walls definitely make it look and feel like a succah, but it's still weird. And it looks a little wonky.

I never thought to take pictures of our succah in Vancouver, although now I wish I had. In Vancouver, we had a backyard, so every year, I'd borrow our neighbour's awesome ladder (g'day Brett!), grab my trusty drill, screws, hammer, nails and 2x4s and build our 8-foot by 8-foot succah. Made out of plywood and lattice, it took me two days to finish.

Then Brett and I would chop down loads of the bamboo that grew wild in our backyards, and Morey and I would carefully lay them across the top of the succah, making our roof. Then I would decorate the inside, starting with the amazing Moroccan lamp that our friend and neighbour Bear (a"h) loaned us.

It was easy to decorate because the walls were wood and lattice, so I could easily get hooks into the walls. Now, we have two stone walls, and two precariously hung cloth walls. It's not so easy to hang things. And the roof of the mirpeset is too high to reach easily without a ladder (and we're without a ladder), so we can't easily hang things from the roof.

I miss our big ol' backyard succah. Tent poles and twine just isn't the same. I miss the leaves and branches hanging down (not too far) through the roof slats. Bamboo mats just don't hang. We're hopeful that someday we'll have a place here in Israel with a yard and we'll be able to truly build a succah once again.

Mind you, it may sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not. I miss our Vancouver succah, but what we gain for the holiday of Succot in Israel far outweighs the deficiencies in our strange little mirpeset succah. Like, for starters, it very rarely rains on Succot here, so we can actually use the darn thing. And we can sit in the succah without a space heater or 5 layers.

And hey, the weird little thing's kinda growing on me.

In the Pink

2009-09-30T12:19:00.008+02:00

Several years ago, a number of international organizations and companies spearheaded an initiative to raise awareness of breast cancer and generate donations, by selling pink products. One of those companies was KitchenAid. They introduced a line of pink products including a food processor, giving a portion of sales of each item to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation.

Sadly, my mother's family has been repeatedly afflicted by breast cancer. I've lost two beloved aunts, Sybil and Thelma, and other women in the family have undergone treatment. Alissa's family has also experienced breast cancer firsthand.

It seemed perfectly appropriate then to support this initiative, and so we bought the pink KitchenAid. This began an initiative of our own that we call Pink for Pareve. Having a kosher kitchen meant we already had separate dishes and utensils for meat and dairy, but we didn't have any dedicated pareve (neutral) dishes or appliances. Thus, the KitchenAid became the first of our pink pareve items. Since then we've added a pink frypan, a pink pot, pink plastic bowls, pink cutting boards and even pink towels. It's an easy way to remember which items are pareve; more importantly, they are daily reminders of the scourge of breast cancer and its affect on our family.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. As part of an effort of Estee Lauder Cosmetics, buildings around the world will be lit up in pink light beginning Wednesday at 8:00pm, including Tel Aviv's Sderot Rothschild, and others. Other international buildings to be coloured include the Japan's Tokyo Tower, New Zealand's Sky Tower, the Millennium Memorial in China, the municipality building in Paris and the LA International Airport.

The Israel Cancer Association (ICA), which is organizing the campaign in Israel, reminds all women aged 50 to 70 that they should get a mammogram every two years; high-risk women should begin undergoing screenings earlier. A number of recent genetic studies have found that Ashkenazi Jewish women have a much higher than average probability of carrying a breast cancer-causing genetic defect.

While all women should be aware of the facts of breast cancer, there are several organizations that address the specific needs of Jewish women.

In Israel, for more information, call 1-800-599-995 or see the ICA Web site at www.cancer.org.il.

Jewish women in the United States should contact Sharsheret for information and support.

Canadian Jewish women should contact the L’Chaim Cancer Support Group for Jewish Women in Canada. They have a DVD entitled, “What Every Jewish Woman Should Know About Cancer.” Topics include breast cancer genetics, finding support from Jewish sources, and helping a friend undergoing cancer treatment. For information about L’Chaim or to order the DVD, please call (416) 630-0203.

Atonement

2009-09-22T16:10:00.015+03:00

(click for larger image)

G'mar chatima tova.

A brake for the holidays

2009-09-17T19:03:00.010+03:00

Reflecting upon Rosh Hashanah reminded me of an incident that happened many years ago. I was driving my parents to work while their car was in the shop. At the time, they owned a knitting store in a strip mall on Carling Avenue in Ottawa. Carling is a fairly flat street but there was a steep decline before the mall. At the top of the hill, we came to an intersection, and I felt something odd about the brakes as we stopped. Spongy. As we started down the hill I thought to myself, if there's something wrong with the brakes I need to know now and not at the bottom of the hill after we've picked up speed. I slowly started to depress the brakes. My foot went, down, down, down until the brakes were completely depressed to the floor without any affect.

All this time my parents were chatting away, and so without interrupting them, I casually dropped my hand to the emergency brake and started to pull up. I geared down to engine brake, and continued using the handbrake all the way down, into the mall, and up to their store where I finally pulled the brake up all the way and stopped the car. As my mother got out of the backseat, she remarked, "You were going a little fast, I think" but my father, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, leaned toward me and whispered, "Your brakes were completely out, weren't they? Then he smiled and patted me on the back.

Rosh Hashanah feels a little like that trip down the hill to me. I would normally have braked automatically, without even thinking about it. The brake situation forced me to heighten my control of the car and be completely aware of my actions. Likewise, on Rosh Hashanah we are required to truly take responsibility for our actions. We consider our behaviour and repent; we consider our relationships with each other and with God, and commit to improve.

And while many (especially those who don't regularly attend synagogue) are overwhelmed by the quantity of prayer-giving during the High Holidays, this is really a time, in my opinion, when the goal is quality not quantity. Not amplitude but attitude. Not immensity but intensity.

I would go so far as saying that although there are a number of prayers which are considered essential, if you feel that a small dose of high-powered prayer is the best you can do, then go for it. If you're not someone who usually attends services, I sincerely hope you will consider 'stopping by' for a little quality time. Don't worry about ritual or tradition; just make the most of a few moments there, in whatever form that may take (I don't recommend 'speaking in tongues' but you know what I mean.)

I must also say, it's always struck me that both my Father, (z"l) and Grandmother (z"l) were born on Rosh Hashanah, and my Grandfather (z"l) died on Yom Kippur. It is impossible for me to think of the imagery of a book of life being opened and closed during this season without taking it a little personally. I'm sincerely a little uneasy during the High Holidays. Well, maybe that's the point.

Alissa and I wish our family and friends, those we already cherish and those we look forward to meeting, a sweet and healthy New Year. May this be a year of simchas and blessings for everyone.

L'Shana Tova, Ktima v'Chatima Tova!

Tora! Tora! Tora!

2009-09-16T21:47:00.008+03:00

One of the many beautiful things about learning at seminary is the opportunity to partake in amazing events. Going to the Kotel (Western Wall) and singing in the darkened holiness. Spending Shabbat with an amazing group of women in Efrat. Not to mention, just learning Torah with amazing teachers and amazing women.

And once in awhile, you merit being a part of a great simcha (celebration) - a Hachnasat Torah, or introduction of a new Torah to a community.

Yesterday afternoon, Nishmat, the seminary where I learn, was blessed to receive not one, but two new Sifrei Torah (kosher Torah scrolls). One came all the way from New York, facilitated by the teacher of our Rabbanit (who has completed the circle by becoming the teacher of the teacher), the other from the neighbourhood synagogue located next to Nishmat.

Nishmat has a policy of including the neighbourhood in everything. Even the Chesed, or volunteer work, that the girls do, takes place in the local area. So of course, the neighbours were invited to the party!

The celebrating took place on the streets of the Pat neighbourhood in Jerusalem, with the mitzvah mobile (in North America, you rent an ice cream truck for a street party, in Israel, you rent a truck that plays simcha music!), balloons, candy, dancing and lots of singing.

Every time a community - synagogue, school, hospitals, whoever - receives a Sefer Torah, it's as if we were at Sinai, receiving the Torah from God all over again (look it up - Moses, mountain, golden calf, 15- no, 10 commandments). We can almost - almost - imagine the joy of our ancestors. We have it better though. We know what we're receiving; our ancestors had no idea yet what a beautiful, powerful gift they had been given.

Lest you think this is something that only the religious people care about, there were so many people in the neighbourhood who came running out of their buildings to kiss the Torahs as they went past, who joined in the festivities, who were excited about dancing with the Torah.

We blocked off streets, preventing the local bus from moving for maybe 5-10 minutes. It was the first time I'd experienced a blocked bus driver not leaning on his horn. The passengers didn't seem to mind; they were all on their feet in the bus, clapping right along.

I had to leave before the girls got their chance to dance with the Torahs once they were safely delivered to the Bet Midrash ("house of learning" or our study hall) of Nishmat. But this is such an important, joyous event, as I was making my way out, tables were quickly being pushed out of the way, instruments were being set up and the room was practically sparking with the urge to celebrate this beautiful event.

I'm sure I missed a heck of a whirl, but what a blessing to be a part of such an amazing experience.

Baruch Dayan Emet

2009-09-14T19:20:00.011+03:00

Blessed is the true Judge. This is what traditional Jews say when we hear of the death of someone not related to us.

We say this for a number of reasons. We have no idea why God calls someone back. We can have no way of knowing why one family suffers many losses, while another suffers none.

Baruch Dayan Emet is what we said when we heard of the death of IAF pilot Assaf Ramon, 20, whose father Illan Ramon died aboard Space Shuttle Columbia six years ago. Yesterday, Ramon's F-16 crashed into the Hebron Hills during dogfight training, some 70 kilometres south of where we live.

Why this promising young pilot, who vowed to follow in his father's footsteps, was killed is known only to God. Why this mother has to face the loss of a son, after facing such a public, tragic loss of her husband is a mystery to us.

But the whole country feels it. This tiny country with its tiny population cried yesterday at the news. It was impossible to completely blink back the tears while listening to the morning news report today. When we lose one, the whole country mourns. When we lose one so tragically, the whole country cries. When we lose a national son, our hearts break for his mother.

When things happen here, it's never too far away. In the same way, there is an immediacy to Israel's history that is impossible to escape. Within minutes of where we live, for example, there are a number of memorials for fallen soldiers from the 1948 War of Independence; including one by the highway which sits next to a wing from an Israeli Spitfire. Along the highway to Jerusalem, the rusted remains of makeshift armoured cars, destroyed as food convoys were trying to reach isolated Jewish neighbourhoods in the city, are gathered together like a congregation of corpses. There are countless battered ruins of Arab villages, stone walls now overgrown with prickly pears and wildflowers. In the larger cities, it's still possible to see bullet and mortar pockmarks in buildings. In places like Sderot, these scars are fresh. This is a wall in Sderot that has just been struck by a Kassam rocket. Don't be fooled by the lack of a destroyed wall. Shrapnel has torn holes in these steel girders. My wife was one block away when it landed.

For these reasons, in this part of the world wars are perceived not as something that happens 'over there' but as something that happens right here. What's interesting is how this reality affects people differently. But for the most part, that sense that the next war will be fought in our own backyards (my apartment has a metal reinforced bomb shelter, and we do regular air raid siren drills) has actually reinforced in people the importance of living life to the fullest. Israelis don't do anything halfway; you do want you want, and you say what you feel. It took us a while to realize that people weren't being rude; they just had much better things to do than engage in idle chatter (please note, discussing politics is not idle chatter). The beaches and parks are always filled with ball-playing teens and picnicking families, enjoying every free moment.

Generally, that sense of immediacy also makes most people hesitant to fight another war. Everyone we know has lost a friend, a son, a father, a brother. I know Israel was criticized after the Gaza mission, but it's also forgotten that the country endured years of rockets before responding - not out of any particular worry about the international reaction, but out of fear of losing any more sons. That hesitation proved costly in 1973, when Syrian and Egyptian forces were able to strike first because the Israeli government didn't act preemptively as it did in 1967.

It also prolonged the war in Lebanon, which should have been fought with massive numbers of ground troops, as it was in 1982. Instead, the war was fought mainly from the air, which saved Israeli lives but gave enemy forces the opportunity to hide in bunkers while civilians, forced to accept rocket launchers next to their homes and schools, were injured and killed. While the military success or failure of the war is still being debated, Israelis recognized the moral failure of this tactic; Israeli lives should have been risked to prevent civilian losses. And so in Gaza, the war was fought almost entirely by ground forces, who coordinated air attacks using laser pointers and other sophisticated devices to prevent civilian losses (which weren't even remotely as high as some claim and paled next to other similar campaigns in places like Sri Lanka, where a reported 6,500 civilians were killed by government forces.)

What is clear is that today's wars aren't fought like those of yesteryear; we no longer send thousands of soldiers to remote places to battle in open fields away from the local population. Since the First World War, we understand that every city street is a potential battlefield. It's unlikely that Canadian or American cities will experience this kind of war, and we can't expect them to understand how it feels to live between battlefields, but the Europeans remember this feeling well, and they're justifiably reluctant to fight more wars in their own cities. No one wants to live with the shadow of war hanging over them. Sadly, we don't always have that option.

Capt. Assaf Ramon, 1989-2009
May his memory be for a blessing.

written by both Morey & Alissa

Stupid, meaningful or just plain old ass-hats?

2009-09-11T12:57:00.006+03:00

TIFF. It means spat, or argument. TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) is the subject of a tiff. With filmmakers. Over what?

Films.

TIFF started a new program called City to City, with the intent of featuring films from filmmakers from a chosen city. To kick off this event, they have chosen Tel Aviv. A brave choice, to be sure. But if any city is a great choice to represent different voices, it is Tel Aviv. Secular, religious, gay, straight, eclectic artist, grey-suited businessman, sad slums, beautiful beaches, towering skyscrapers, pretty cottages, Jew, Arab, Tel Aviv has it all. And everyone has an opinion, and everyone voices their opinion. Freely.

John Greyson, Jane Fonda, Danny Glover, David Byrne, Julie Christie, Viggo Mortenson, Harry Belafonte, Naomi Klein, Min Sook Lee, and many others - some recognizable, some not - believe that these opinions should not be heard. They believe the voices of these people should be stifled. In other words, these artists believe that filmmakers in Tel Aviv should be censored, blacklisted. They attest to this in a letter of protest that was sent to TIFF. John Greyson, a respected filmmaker, withdrew his film from TIFF.

Oh, the irony of artists censoring artists.

To its credit, TIFF is standing strong. Cameron Bailey, co-director of TIFF wrote an open letter in response to this protest.

"I was attracted to Tel Aviv as our inaugural city because the films being made there explore and critique the city from many different perspectives....We encourage everyone to see the films, engage in debate and draw their own conclusions."

The artists mentioned above apparently believe that we shouldn't engage in debate. We should just criticise Israel and be done with it. No one should draw any conclusions because obviously, the only conclusion is Israel is bad. Israel oppresses. Yet, if these artists had their way, the only place you'd be able to see the films featured in City to City would be Israel.

Who are the real oppressors here?

If you wish to know who supports City to City, here are some of the names and statements I've been able to find:

Minnie Driver - "Empowered groups of people, deciding whose stories can, and cannot be told, does nothing but remind us of oppression that has no place in filmmaking"
Jon Voight
Saul Rubinek
David Cronenberg - "attempts to stop TIFF's City to City spotlight on Tel Aviv amount to political censorship"
Ivan Reitman - "Any attempt to silence that conversation, to hijack the festival for any political agenda in the end, only serves to silence artistic voices."
Norman Jewison
Robert Lantos - "Their brand of political censorship is at odds with the most cherished values of Canadian society: freedom of expression and freedom of choice...Bigotry like theirs has no place at the Toronto International Film Festival."
edited to add:
Simcha Jacobovici - "(TIFF) has been hijacked by a group of so-called activists bent on furthering their agenda – to demonize Jews and to marginalize Israel, in order to bring about the destruction of the Jewish State. Clearly, they do not support a two state solution. By objecting to a “spotlight” on Tel Aviv they are saying that no place in Israel is legitimate. From their twisted perspective, everything that Israel does is – by definition – illegitimate and everything that the enemies of Israel do is – by definition – legitimate. This is anti-Semitism in its crudest form. Furthermore, they have chosen to align themselves with Gaza’s Hamas regime that stands for terrorism, fundamentalism and totalitarianism. It is a Holocaust denying organization that is against Jews, Christians, gays and women. There is no worse regime in the world and yet Naomi Klein, John Greyson and company have chosen to identify themselves with it. You can tell a person by their friends."

Tiff - noun: a slight fit of annoyance, bad mood, or the like.

2009-09-10T13:05:00.007+03:00

I've updated my blog with a post on this week's controversy over the Toronto International Film Festival. I have no problem with a filmmaker, in this case, John Greyson, pulling his film from TIFF over its decision to salute Tel Aviv. That's his right. But, when artists organize and hold letter-writing campaigns over a festival's artistic decision, I take it personally. As someone who ran a film festival for eight years, I can tell you these decisions are not made lightly, and I commend TIFF and co-director Cameron Bailey for recognizing Tel Aviv as an important cultural centre.

That's not to dismiss the city's political history. But name me a great city that doesn't have baggage. We might as well boycott the Berlin Film Festival over East Germany's treatment of political prisoners during the cold war. That Israel and the Palestinian issue is contentious ground is a given. But the festival should be a catalyst and forum for debate on the subject. Stifling that debate is an act of cowardice by a gang of thugs who cannot argue rationally and must therefore act irrationally. How else would one describe artists promoting artistic censorship? It boggles my mind; it hurts my heart.

More importantly, to accuse TIFF - a festival which has a history of supporting Palestinian filmmakers and screening films highly critical of Israel - of now acting as a propagandist for the Jewish state is just daft. Or deliberately malicious. Either way, I'm sure the irony of promoting the Palestinian cause by accusing a festival of promoting the Israeli case isn't lost on these people.

My blog post is here.

Faraway, So Close!

2009-09-08T15:17:00.011+03:00

"Do you want to spend Shabbat with some seminary girls?" she asked.

I should explain. Last week, Alissa began a month of learning for Elul at Nishmat, a women's seminary in Jerusalem. As part of the programme, Nishmat had organized a Shabbaton in Efrat with Rabbi Menachem Schrader and his family. Husbands were invited.

Let me think: Jewish learning. Free food. A tour of Efrat. Seminary girls. I could imagine quite a few yeshiva boys have dreams about weekends like this. Ok, I'm in.

On Friday afternoon, we met up with the group at the school . Of course, as things turned out, I was the only husband other than that of the group leader, and his English is about as good as my Hebrew. But, this would give me a chance to practice conversational Hebrew. The girls seemed friendly and bright, even if I felt a little like a one of the parental chaparones on an overnight High-School excurison.

After loading up our things, we set off by bus to Efrat. After crossing the checkpoint, it was a short drive to Efrat, located in the heart of an area south of Jerusalem called Gush Etzion, situated between Beth Lechem and Hevron. Efrat is relatively small, around 8,000 mainly religious Zionists, and was established in 1980.

It's impossible to visit the region without recognizing the political situation. The West Bank is complicated, to say the least. There had been a perpetual Jewish presence since Biblical times until the illegal Jordanian occupation in 1948 when Jews were expelled - many were killed or injured when the Jordanian army destroyed the Etzion Block - and prohibited from visiting religious sites.

Sadly forgotten by many is the fact that Jews are called "Jews" because they come from Judea, the historic name for this area. This unassailable historical fact was the basis for the Balfour Declaration (1917), endorsed by the San Remo Convention (1920) and the League of Nations (1922), confirming the Jewish people's right to live in the Holy Land, on both sides of the Jordan River. So, according to International law, Jews have every right to buy land and settle in this region.

And so, entering Efrat we feel like we are coming home. There is a visceral familarity to the landscape and the expansive sky, and I dwell upon the words of Moshe to the people Israel, "For the Lord your God is bringing you to a good land: a land with streams of water, of springs and underground water coming forth in valley and mountain; a land of wheat, barley, grape, fig and pomegranate, a land of oil-olive and date-honey; a land where you eat bread without poverty--you will lack nothing there."

We arrive at the home of the Rabbi and immediately the process of assigning billets begins. The Rebbetzin and Rabbi have decided to send the girls to homes based on dietary restrictions: vegans to this home, vegetarians who eat fish to these people, omnivores who can't eat nuts...you get the idea. I turn to the Rabbi and say, "I eat EVERYTHING!" (In truth, Alissa prefers not to eat meat but she's far more accomodating than me). He says, "Well, there's the Bogners."

"Huh? David and Zahava Bogner?"

"Oh, do you know them?"

"We know of them. And we've commented on each other's blogs."

"Well, they're just down the street." And once we had the address, we were off to the home of Bogners, known by many as 'Chez Treppenwitz.'

If you want to know what happened next, you can read here.

While we're writing letters

2009-08-26T12:48:00.006+03:00

Dear World:

Your compassion for the Arabs in assisting them to obtain one more state is noted. While you're protesting, writing slanderous articles promoting blood-libels, boycotting our professors (but not our useful products), calling us murderers and Nazis, would you mind taking a few minutes to help a young man?

He was kidnapped over 3 years ago, at the age of 19. He is being held hostage by a group identified by the US as being a terrorist organization. His family has been allowed no contact. This terrorist organization has refused to allow the Red Cross to visit the hostage, in full contravention of the Geneva Convention. The terrorists have offered no terms to release this hostage. His family has no idea if he is even still alive.

His name is Gilad Shalit. His birthday is on Friday. He was kidnapped when the terrorists snuck into Israel through a tunnel. He is a hostage because he is a Jew.

Dear World, please spare a minute of your indignation for this young man. Demand that the Red Cross be allowed to visit him. Demand that his family be allowed to visit him. Demand that he be released. Today.

Bring Gilad Shalit home.

Tweet4Shalit
#giladshalit

Here's how it's gonna go down

2009-08-24T23:51:00.005+03:00

Dear US State Department:

We have Uncle Sam. We will not release him until you change your policy towards Israel and realize we are not the bad guys. We are good guys who have our slip-ups, just like everyone else.

We will snip off one star at a time until you accede to our demands.

Sincerely,
The People of Israel

Climbing the language barrier

2009-08-10T19:33:00.001+03:00

Living in Israel as a non-fluent Hebrew speaker has really made me appreciate how difficult it must have been for all the non-English speaking immigrants to America. I'm being specific about the US, because I think Canada is far more tolerant of ESL immigrants than the US is.

At least in Israel, there is such a large English speaking population, that you can easily find someone who speaks English to help you find an address, a post office, explain your water bill (if you can find ANYBODY who could explain the water bill), etc. We constantly "complain" that when we do try to speak Hebrew, the person we are talking to - bank teller, supermarket cashier, cellphone service - usually says, "it's okay, you can speak English." We have to argue with them, saying we need to practice our Hebrew. Eventually, we compromise: we speak Hebrew, they speak English.

In one community I lived in back in the US, there was a significant number of immigrants from Guatemala. Hardly anyone in my town spoke Spanish, and these people didn't speak English. Typically, they found construction jobs, or housekeeping work. But a few were able to get jobs in other areas, including our local Burger King. I remember our receptionist stomping into the office one morning, because when she went to the drive-thru at the Burger King to get coffee (they had very good coffee), the Guatemalan girl working the drive-thru didn't understand "milk" and "cream" and our receptionist had to settle for the wrong thing. She was ranting about people "coming to our country and not knowing the language."

I felt for the drive-thru girl. I thought how scary it must be to be in a new country and not know the language, and to most likely, be far away from her family and friends. But I also thought, why doesn't she learn English? So many people speak it, it must be easy enough to learn.

I have a different respect for her now. Yes, enough people here speak English that I can get by for now, but this past Friday, the Health Ministry found E.Coli in our water. They issued a boil-water alert, and the City posted a notice to boil all water used for eating, drinking, and brushing teeth. Now, first of all, they issued the warning on Shabbat and came up with some lame excuse that they didn't want to disturb Shabbat, so they posted flyers outside of synagogues and called "some people." We didn't go to services that day, so we missed the flyer.

But the main issue is, the flyers were only in Hebrew. The notice on the City's website was only in Hebrew. The article on the news website was only in Hebrew. If it weren't for our English language email list, I never would have known about the water situation, and Morey, Maimo and I would have been merrily drinking tainted water. Fortunately, on Shabbat, we drink a lot of coffee and tea, which was from water boiled in our urn. But anyway...

I was reassured however, that in the event of war, the government issues all warnings and alerts in English as well as Hebrew.

Good to know/טוב לדעת

ac/dc

2009-08-06T17:52:00.002+03:00

No, we're not talking Angus here. We're talking air. Cold, cold air.

When I lived in New York, and we had hot, sticky, humid summers where you felt like you walked into a wall of water and were about to suffocate when you stepped outside, I hated air conditioning. Air conditioning was dry and stuffy. And smelled funny. And usually either didn't work well enough, or worked so well, you needed 3 sweaters just to stave off the chills.

I much preferred open windows. Even on very hot days. Open the windows and let the breeze blow. I would acquiesce on very hot nights and put the a/c on, but it had to be really really hot. And I rarely ran the a/c in my car. In fact, one of my cars didn't even have a/c, much to the shock and horror of my family.

In Vancouver, of course, it was only ever hot enough to think about air conditioning two weeks out of the year. Except apparently, this year. Vancouver was hit with a heat wave that made it hotter than Tel Aviv. Felt for them, we did.

Here in Israel? It's a completely different story. I heart my a/c. We couldn't live without it. People plan their synagogue community around which synagogue has a/c. We'd have our a/c on 24/7 if we could afford it. As it is, we have it timed to come on for an hour, every two hours, during the night or we'd never be able to sleep. The a/c is on in the car nearly every time we're in the car. People go to the mall or grocery stores just for the air conditioning. We love our a/c.

Except. Israelis love a/c a little too much. We keep our temp set at 27*. Yes, I know, most of you are scratching your heads saying, "27? That's not cold." It is when it's normally 35 outside. (And yes, we appreciate the irony of thinking that 23 was warm when we lived in Vancouver.) However, most stores and offices keep their temperatures set at a balmy "meat locker" setting. When I had pneumonia last month and had to keep going to the doctor, I was literally shivering from chills - unrelated to my fever - when I got into his office.

This makes it just that much harder to go back outside. Because 35 is bloody hot. 35 feels pretty darn hellish when you're coming out of an air conditioned building. But 35 feels like you've stepped into the middle of a raging inferno when you come out of an iceberg.

We know nothing of moderation here. We're an all or nothing kind of people.

*27 celsius = 80 fahrenheit
35 celsius = 95 fahrenheit
Yes, we do frequently get temps higher than 35.

Safety in numbers

2009-08-03T14:06:00.004+03:00

From the moment we announced we were making aliyah, we have been asked, "aren't you scared? Isn't it dangerous?" Morey likes to point out that in a period of 4 months, there were 14 murders in Vancouver as a result of gang activity. Drive-by shootings, shootings in restaurants, etc., and the majority of the victims were innocent bystanders who just happened to have picked the wrong place to eat that night.

Israel has a ridiculously low homicide rate. But I know what they're referring to, of course - the "situation" over here. Even with the "situation", it's still safer to be in Israel than most other places. Thank God, things are relatively quiet right now, but even during the Gaza war, we felt safe.

However it has occurred to me that while being in Israel is safe, Israel is dangerous to me. Since I have lived here, I have

torn my achilles' tendon
fallen and sprained my wrist and ribs and banged up my knee
strained my knee (fun is realizing you can't put weight on your knee going downhill and you're at the Acropolis.)
broken my toe
had more colds than I can count
had the flu
had pneumonia (which I am, thank God, finally starting to get over)

I've been here a year.

This is definitely taking the cholim hadashim* tradition a little too far. But I can certainly attest to the efficiency of Israel's medical system.

Please God, next year Israel should be a little safer for me.

* New immigrants are called olim (immigrants) chadashim (new). Sick people are called cholim. Since exposure to new germs and stresses causes most olim to get sick quite frequently during the few year or two, new immigrants are jokingly referred to as cholim chadashim

Happy anniversary

2009-07-10T11:21:00.001+03:00

Dear Israel,
One year ago today, you promised to take me in your arms and keep me safe. You promised to give me a home like no other. You promised me the freedom to be myself.

I promised to love you, and be on your side, and defend you. I promised to do my part to contribute to our relationship, and provide strength and sustenance.

You've lived up to your promises. You've given me a beautiful home, shared your wonderful friends with me, given me great opportunities, let me explore your beautiful nature. Yes, I know you're not perfect - you can blow very hot sometimes, and that's no fun for either of us. But that's okay, I promised to take the good with the bad, knowing there really isn't that much bad.

You never promised me that it would be easy with you, but you've made it much easier than I expected. You've supported me so much this first year, helping me adjust to our new life together.

Your family has welcomed me with open arms, not seeing me as someone from somewhere else, but as new family - just another person to love and embrace. Which leaves me so inspired to embrace family members even newer than I.

You've taken me to the beach, to the snow-capped mountain, to the desert and to your beautiful, ancient hills. You keep sharing your tremendous treasures with me - every day is a new discovery.

There are so many sides to you, even after decades, I could never discover them all. You can be stubborn and stiff-necked. You can sometimes make bad judgements. You can sometimes succumb to temptation and give in to corruption and hate. But this is a small part of you; your capacity to hold and love everyone is amazing.

Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for living up to your promises. I hope I can live up to mine.

Happy one year anniversary. I do love you.

And we thought Israel was quirky

2009-07-06T17:32:00.003+03:00

Having just purchased a new (to us), 12 year old car (I can smell the freedom already), I was naturally curious when I received an email with "Autos" in the subject line. This email was in Spanish, so I knew it didn't really pertain to me, and against my better spam judgement, I opened it.*

My grade-8 Spanish wasn't up to the task, so I plugged the email into Google translate and got the basic information. "We would like to give you a quote on your insurance, so please tell what year, brand and version of your car, if you have air conditioning, if it is standard or automatic..."

All pretty standard stuff. Then I got to the last line, which I double-checked myself to be sure: "if you have burned coconuts"

I assumed they used gas in Mexico, just like us. Apparently you have the option to burn coconuts. It's probably much cheaper.

*I actually wasn't too worried, because for some reason, my email address is pretty commonly mistyped in Spanish. I frequently get real emails addressed to various people. I've tried contacting the sender to fix the problem, but language is an issue, and usually, they insist they have the right email. See? There really is a "lost in cyber-space."

But I WANT to give you money!

2009-06-04T22:22:00.002+03:00

I'm an honest person. I download tv shows to watch online, but if there is a movie I want to keep, or an album I want, I buy them. Especially so if the album is by an independent artist. I even downloaded an album from a website, that didn't require payment in advance. I listened to the album, really enjoyed it, decided to keep it, and went back and paid for it. I never received an acknowledgement from the not-known-outside-his-local-bar-scene artist, but that's a different rant altogether.

Today I came across an album that I wanted to download. I went through the whole payment procedure, came to "billing address" and started filling in my Israeli information. I selected "Israel" from the drop-down menu for country. Everytime I hit enter, up came an error message stating that my zip code didn't match my state.

Fine. I finally sent an email to Amazon and got this response:

At this time music downloads are only available to customers using a credit or debit card issued by a U.S. bank with a U.S. billing address...You also must be physically located in the U.S. at the time of purchase.

Well, okey dokey then. I understand distribution rights and whatnot, so I'm not too surprised by that. But please explain to me why they would have a drop-down menu with numerous countries listed if you can only be in one country?

A global world demands global accessability, but no one will let me buy this CD. If it were an independent artist, I would download it from a torrent, and send the artist a cheque. In this case, it's not, there's nowhere to send a cheque to. So sadly, the simple fact of living b'aretz, in the Land, means I shall have to find another *cough* means of *cough* accessing this CD.

Bang head here

2009-06-02T16:22:00.004+03:00

When I was in the process of immigrating to Canada, I followed quite a few online forums about Canadian immigration. There were frequently jokes made about how if you called the immigration office multiple times with the same question, you would get a different answer every time. Except we weren't really laughing, because it was true. A number of us tested the information line, and never got the same information twice.

I'm thankful for that preparation, because despite having a fairly easy time with the bureaucracy here, we still occasionally experience some serious head-banging frustrations. Case in point:

We are leaving the country (we're not going far, just to Greece. Ha! Greece is "not far"!!) prior to having been in Israel for one year. That means we have to get a special travel document, a Teudat Ma'avar. Fortunately, a T"M is easily obtained at our local Misrad HaPnim office.

Um. "easily"

We went to the office, and were told we need a picture of each of us. Okay, that we already have from our original aliyah process. We go home, but have to come back another time with the pictures, because, like most government offices, banks and post offices here in Israel, they close for the afternoon.

So we come back another time with our pictures. While we're trying to figure out from which category to take our number, an employee comes out to help (for you Canadians, think of the Air Canada employee who wanders the terminals looking to direct passengers to the self-service machines). She informs us we need TWO pictures each. Now I'm really frustrated, because we have two pictures each, but I only brought one of each, because we were told we only needed one, but why didn't I just bring the others just in case and it's not like they're heavy or anything, they're only photos for cryin' out loud.

Anyhooooo.

Because the office is only open two afternoons a week, and I have ulpan (Hebrew school) in the morning, we are limited as to when we can go. So we went today, not realizing that today is not one of the two afternoons a week that the office is open, only to be told by the very helpful (different) lady there that because it's now less than 3 weeks until our trip, we have to go to the city of Ramle to get our Teudat Ma'avar. It seems the office in Modi'in is just a satellite office that sends everything to Ramle to be processed. This apparently adds over a week to the actual processing time, so we wouldn't get our T"M back in time for the trip.

So now we have to figure out how to get to Ramle, where the office is in Ramle, when they're open, and I get to miss another day of ulpan.

Funny: after I explained to the woman why I was about to collapse in a puddle of tears, I listed off all the things we need for the T"M and asked, "that's definitely IT, right? We don't need anything else?" She said, "ומחייך*." Smiles.

Guess she's dealt with olim before.

* I have been corrected; apparently I misheard. Smiles is חיוכים (chiyuchim). Thanks C!

Reframing perspective

2009-05-26T19:01:00.006+03:00

Israel is a strange place.

For the last, well, since nearly forever, in the Middle East there have been some Arabs who have used various means to kill Israelis. Really Jews, but since these particular people don't seem to care who dies along with the Jews, I'll say Israelis.

They have used suicide bombers to blow up buses, pizza joints and coffee shops. We put up checkpoints to inspect cars and people to keep explosives from getting into the country. They found ways to sneak in around the checkpoints. So we put up a security fence to force them through the checkpoints. They enter schools and private homes to shoot and kill children and women. We put security guards at kindergardens. Everything they try, we find a way to block them; they just come up with another method.

The last few years have seen the weapon of choice change from one of preparation to one of convenience. And what's more convenient than a bulldozer when you're working on one of the many construction sites throughout Jerusalem? The first bulldozer attack killed a number of people, and would have killed more if not for so many Israelis being, unfortunately, prepared for anything. There have been two more attacks that were defined as terror attacks, and one, in Modi'in, that was shrugged off as a disgruntled worker.

So today, I was travelling on a bus in Jerusalem. We were stopped at the traffic light on Jaffa Street at Mahane Yehuda, the shuk, or marketplace. There is construction running the length of Jaffa, due to the new rail line being built, so there are fences and cement barricades and traffic jams all over the place. While we were stopped at the light, a breaker bulldozer started up next to us, and next to the large crowd entering Mahane Yehuda. As the bulldozer started moving, there was a collective intake of breath on the bus and a tangible tension in the air. The majority of people who were watching were all thinking the same thing: will the driver use his machine for construction, or destruction?

We watched as he swung the arm around, into the crowd of people gathered around the entrance to the shuk. Next to me, I heard my older seatmate start murmuring, "oy" and sucking in her breath. The arm came down - so close to the people - and, like a mother's hand directing her child out of the way, gently moved a cement barrier further into the work zone to widen the pathway for the pedestrians.

The light changed, and the collective release of deeply held breath nearly got lost in the bus sounds. The nervous chuckles had turned into regular bus chatter by the time we neared the hospital, where we got stuck behind an ambulance being searched for explosives before the crew could transport their patient to emergency. This, no one on the bus paid attention to.

"Normal" takes on a whole new meaning in Israel.

Date Night in Israel

2009-05-25T10:51:00.003+03:00

Morey wrote a blogpost about our first movie date in Israel. Okay, so it's actually about the new Star Trek movie, but there's a little bit in there about our first Israeli movie-going experience.

Before I say a few words about the new Star Trek film, and you know I must, I need to describe going to the screening, our first 'movie date' in Israel. Israel is a modern country, and that applies to its movie cinemas. The experience was all very familiar, but just different enough to be memorable.

Boldly go... and read.

Roll with it

2009-05-20T21:31:00.002+03:00

One of the many quirks of Israeli advertising - aside from the eye blistering overuse of colour, blinking graphics, STARS! EVERYWHERE! and ensuring not a smidge of white space remains to give the brain a second's rest - is the door delivery.

By that I mean, every day we come home to find something new on a door. Usually it's an advertising magnet. Israelis love magnets. Most newer Israeli apartments have metal doors, which, as a result of Israelis' love of magnets, are usually decorated with said magnets. Forget seeing the actual colour of your 'fridge. We have magnets for everything, including the health care branches. Repair guys, pizza, taxis, even the kid down the street who dogwalks.

Occasionally we come home to knob hangers. Flyers hanging off our doorknobs, advertising everything and anything (in eye blistering colours, STARS!, boxes, and every font that comes with Word).

But today, today, we had a really useful advertisement outside our door. A lovely little box with a picture of a puppy on it. Inside the box? A brand new roll of toilet paper. How handy!

Except... I can't figure how it's supposed to stick to the fridge.

The Day of Cows invasion*

2009-05-03T18:36:00.003+03:00

* or, "they tried to kill us, they failed, let's eat."

In the United States there is Memorial Day. Ostensibly to honour our fallen soldiers, it has turned into the "official start of summer", the day to barbecue, the day the pools open, etc. Somewhere along the line, the "memorial" part of the day has been forgotten.

In Israel, we have Memorial Day (Yom HaZikaron), immediately followed by Independence Day (Yom HaAzma'ut). Yom HaZikaron, as I mentioned in my previous post, is a somber day. Even the boys' school where we have Ulpan, there was a ceremony honouring the fallen soldiers. Some of the boys had lost brothers and fathers; it was hard to see these normally boisterious, obnoxious, inconsiderate boys sobbing in the arms of their teachers and classmates. It was even harder to look around the room and wonder which of these boys was going to become a picture on the screen someday.

We mourn, we cry, we remember. Then we say "enough." Enough crying, enough pity, enough sadness.

במותם ציווי לנו את החיים
(basically, "By their deaths, they order us to live")

At the end of the day of Yom HaZikaron, we hand over the sadness to celebration, to Yom HaAtzma'ut. Benji Lovett of What War Zone says Yom HaAtzma'ut means, "go to a park and eat a cow." He's not far off. But before you barbecue, you party! In Modi'in, one of the parks was taken over by a stage, kiosks, popcorn stands, inflatable hammers (it's a thing), glowing necklaces, noisemakers - I felt like I was at a mini-Lallapalooza! We went to our friends' Dena and Moishe, whose mirpeset overlooks the park, giving us a bird's eye view of the whole event. The featured acts of the evening were Rita, one of Israel's most famous singers, and of course, meat.

The thing to understand about Yom HaAtzma'ut: it's all about the barbecue. Whatever can go on the BarB, does. Wherever you can fit a BarB, you do. The day of YhA (I'm tired of writing all that out), we went to my sister's in Jerusalem. Her husband stood behind the grill nearly the entire time cooking:

Goose breast
Chicken (both regular and tandoori)
Steak
Veal sausage
Chourizo sausage
hotdogs
hamburger

I've never seen so much meat in one place at one time.

To get to their house, we had to drive down Ben Tzvi, which is a major thoroughfare running alongside a large park, Gan Sacher. At one point, while marvelling at all the cars parked hither and yon - anywhere there was space - I thought there was a fire. A huge cloud of black smoke was billowing across the road. As we got closer, I realized the smoke was the result of about thirty bajillion barbecues all fired up at once. Seriously, Yom HaAzma'ut is the barbecue holiday. It sucks to be a vegetarian on YhA (although I was extremely impressed at the veggies a vegetarian friend of Pamela's brought to the barbecue! Impressed, and grateful).

After all that meat - and not being a big meat-eater, I limited myself - words cannot express how relieved I was that when we went to friends in Rana'ana for dinner on Thursday, they served fish!

What a way to experience our first Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAzma'ut in Israel. It was momentous. And I just can't think of a better way to honour and celebrate our fallen soldiers than by first, remembering them and thanking them, and then full-on enjoying the lives they protect and the land they defend to the absolute maximum.

One minute for a lifetime

2009-04-27T20:15:00.003+03:00

Here in Israel, Yom HaZikaron - Memorial Day - takes on special meaning. When nearly everyone has served in the Israel Defence Force (IDF), when nearly everyone knows someone who has died defending this Land, when nearly everyone knows, or is related to, someone who has died as a result of attacks on our country, observing a minute of silence in the evening, and two during the day is a small offering nearly everyone is willing to give.

Tonight I experienced my first Yom HaZikaron for Israel's fallen soldiers. I've watched the videos on YouTube many times of how people rise to their feet and stop what they are doing. How cars come to a stop on the roads, and drivers get out and stand by their open doors. Tonight, as I stood in my window, listening for the siren, I watched as car after car pulled over, anticipating. As I stood listening to the sirens in my town, in the next town, in the town after that, it occurred to me that I wasn't watching the cars on a video, I was standing with them, honouring my soldiers, my fallen, my country.

As compared to Memorial Day in the US, the music on the radio is somber, the restaurants are closed, there are speeches and songs and events commemorating the fallen. It's a sober event, not a celebratory one. But in true Jewish fashion, after remembering and honouring, we then celebrate on Yom HaAzma'ut. But we'll discuss that later.

Right now - may their memory be for a blessing.

Hello, hello birdie!

2009-04-20T15:05:00.003+03:00

Two of these were in our backyard on Shabbat.

*picture from Wikipedia

"Backyard" being the field across from our house. And of course, since it was Shabbat, we couldn't take pictures. Instead, we stood mesmerised at the window for nearly an hour, watching the two enormous White Storks strut around the field. One took off and started circling the field, moving further away with each circle. We could not get over the wingspan of this bird. Seriously, it was huge.

Then Morey took Maimo for a walk and went down to the field. He didn't get close to the remaining bird, but from that vantage, he could definitely confirm the size of it. Huge! We watched the circling bird until we couldn't see it anymore, which because it was so large, was a long time. Then we watched the other one meandering around until we couldn't put off kiddush any longer.

Click on the link above to read about them. Their migration is interesting, and we were lucky enough to be in their path. Not knowing anything about birds, we Googled some images and thought maybe we had seen an albatross. After emailing Israbirding.com, we were corrected. The Albatross is an exclusive water bird. Neither of us has ever really been interested in bird watching, but we have so many beautiful birds here, that may have to change!

There's just no English word for it

2009-04-17T15:43:00.002+03:00

Tiyul. It can mean a hike, but more often it means a particular type of trip that involves visiting a place or places. Usually a day trip, sometimes an overnighter. Always within Israel. The closest equivalent I can think of is if you live in New Jersey, and your cousin from Scottsdale, Arizona is visiting and you can take him or her on a trip to New York City to see the Statue of Liberty. That's a tiyul. Or, you live in New York and you and a bunch of friends drive to Central Jersey to go to Six Flags Great Adventure. That's also a tiyul.

For our most recent tiyul, we went to the desert. First stop, Sde Boker (home to David Ben Gurion, first Prime Minister of Israel) and Ein Ovdat National Park (home to Ben Gurion's grave) and walked to the waterfall. We had a wonderful guide, but wound up doing a lot of standing around to listen to him speak. I don't enjoy standing around, but the information was interesting. The area is beautiful. We only had time to do one route, though.

Then we went to Chan HaShayarot where we listened to a real Bedouin (that's what he said) give a very short speech about the Bedouin way of life. It's a tourist site, so it's not a real Bedouin tent, and he gives the same shpiel a few hundred times a day, but he was funny and it was interesting. I think I would like to visit a Bedouin family in their home to get the real story. The cool part was when he described the coffee routine and how it relates to hospitality. Making coffee for a visitor is very important, right down to how you pour the cup. Apparently, the polite way is to fill the cup about a third. If you want to send the message that the guest is not welcome, you fill the cup all the way. The Bedouin would send a call out to alert travellers that there was hospitality by grinding coffee.

Click here to see a particularly fancy coffee grinder. The drumming sound is made by knocking the pestle on the bottom and sides of the container.

This was followed by a camel "ride." The ride itself was a bit silly; we went from where we got on to a half kilometre away (if that) and back. It wasn't a trail, we didn't go anywhere, and the field that we walked to was literally covered with broken glass - bottle remains with bottoms facing up - and rusted tin cans. I jokingly said it looked like the remains of target practice, and then I noticed the holes in the tin cans. I know camels have hard feet, but still, it can't be comfortable trekking over shards of glass with 300 or more pounds on your back.

It also wasn't very comfortable for me, because my saddle was cracked through the middle and dug into my thighs. I also didn't like seeing the camel in the corral who hadn't been trained yet. Because camels are pack animals and what one does, they all do, a camel who hasn't been trained yet will take off after the convoy, so they keep it shackled by the front ankles. It can only take little shuffling steps. And to eat or drink, it has to get down on its knees. This is probably more humane than some trainers who hit their camels, but still, it doesn't look pleasant. I'm probably totally projecting, but the camel actually looked (and acted) lonely.

If I ever go on another camel ride, it will be to go somewhere.

On the other hand, the jeep ride through the desert was a blast! I truly love the desert and seeing it from trails was amazing. It's still a national park, and the trails are controlled (and well used), but it's nothing you'd enjoy from just driving the highways.

I would love to rent a 4-wheel drive (oh, the irony of having had a 4wd in Vancouver. Trust me, it got used on the logging roads, but still...) and cruise through the desert by myself, without the constraints of a tour (by "by myself" I mean with Morey, of course, but he's afraid of scorpions) and camp overnight. There are tons of ruins in the desert, some set up for tourists, some just there, that I would love to explore.

This wasn't the best organized tour I've been on, or one that made the best use of the time available, but I am so grateful that Nefesh b'Nefesh, the city of Modi'in, AACI and so many other organizations make these trips available to new olim. We've gone to places I just wouldn't think to go to, or gone to places we normally couldn't afford. I can't wait for the next trip.

For falling off the face of the earth is a big trip

2009-04-16T20:10:00.003+03:00

It has been brought to my attention that I haven't blogged in awhile. So I checked, and holy cow! It has been awhile. Many apologies. There was much going on, including my sister getting married! Said event entailed the following:

mom coming for a visit. She decided to spend the first of her 3 weeks with us.
however, since said sister was getting married, there was a lot of happy shlepping into Jerusalem.
and visiting other relatives who were gradually making their way in.
and the tichel party
and dad arriving
and the "groom's family meets the bride's family" cocktail party
followed by wedding supply shopping
followed by Shabbat, which was in the Old City, where we were staying with my sister
which included the Shabbat Kallah; the sister's friends coming over for Seudah Shlishit
followed by wedding preparation stuff
and the day of the wedding, and all the girlie stuff that goes along with that
and all the emotional stuff that weddings bring out
then visiting the police because my mother's jewellery was stolen
which happened before the first Sheva Brachot
and the 100 degree fever I came down with that day
which was the day before we were hosting 40 people for the second Sheva Brachot
after which we spent a casual day in Jerusalem having lunch with the new couple and the parents (for the first time this visit)
where we discovered the jewellery had been returned, coincidentally right after the police informed the hotel staff that they would all have to take a polygraph test
which was good news for my parents to return to the States with,
which was followed by Pesach cleaning
which involved one - count 'em, one! - seder.

I missed a lot of ulpan. But I had a lot of taxi drivers to speak Hebrew with!

For recovery purposes, we resolved to do absolutely nothing this Chol HaMoed. Nothing. And the beautiful thing about being in Israel is almost everyone is on vacation. During Chol HaMoed - the days between the first and last days of Pesach - schools are closed (no ulpan!), many businesses are off, and a sense of festivity abounds. Since you aren't supposed to do any laundry during Chol HaMoed, I had no chores, so I sat around and read and played on the computer and finally caught up on my email. The only problem was, with Shabbat in the middle, and 7 days instead of 8, it seemed like there was hardly any Chol!

We had a trip on Monday, which was our only concession. I love the desert, and this was a trip to the desert, to hike through a canyon, ride camels, and go on a jeep ride through the desert (the best part!). So I happily gave up a day of doing nothing for that.

More on that in the next post...

6 pound frame on a 2 inch toe

2009-03-03T18:03:00.003+02:00

So 12 days ago, I noticed that someone shoved our large wind chimes into a moving box for artwork that holds a large painting (I won't name the husband who put the chimes there). I was afraid the wind chimes would scratch the frame, so I pulled the them out of the box.

What I didn't know was the wind chimes were holding up some smaller frames that had also been shoved into the box (again, by the same unmentioned husband). The 6-pound frame (that held the diploma of some guy-who-lives-here) dropped from a height of four feet. Onto my big toe.

After screaming bloody murder, and having a good, hard cry (it HURT!), and icing it, I elevated it and watched the toe turn all sorts of pretty shades of purple (yes, I was having flashbacks to the ankle I sprained years ago. Pretty, pretty colours.)

It hurt for a few days, then went away. Then two days ago, still slightly bruised, it started aching. And I realized I couldn't touch it. I hemmed and hawed, and finally got scared into going to the doctor by a friend of mine who started talking about blood clots and such (thanks, Claude!).

The point of all this prelude is that we managed to navigate our way through seeing a doctor without an appointment, getting an X-ray, getting a diagnosis, and getting my toe taped - which was the longest part of the whole process (the nurses' clinic was closed that day, so the doctor had to do it), and was something I could have done myself, being that I used to be an EMT. And we did all this mostly in Hebrew.

In the US and Canada (probably in England & SA, too, I assume?), when you get an X-ray, the technicians are extra careful about asking if you're pregnant, and putting the big lead vest on you, and explaining what's going on.

Yeah. Not here. When my name was called (along with something sounding like "codor regel" which made no sense to me, because "codor regel" means football, and I certainly wasn't there for field goal tryouts), no one was waiting for me, I was facing 3 doors that said X-ray, none of which were open, and when I asked the woman in the one office that was open which room I should go into, she responded with the Israeli equivalent of, "how the hell should I know?!"

Eventually, someone came looking for me, asked me what was being X-rayed, put my foot in the camera field, tossed a very small lead sheet at me and left. Good thing I knew where to put the sheet. He came back, moved my foot, and left. He came back into the room, said, "zehu" (that's it) and left for the final time. Left me lying on the table with the lead sheet. Okey dokey, then.

I should mention that he slammed the door each time, and he reeked of cigarettes. Welcome to Israel :)

The very cool thing is they gave me my X-rays on a disc, so I was able to look at them myself when I got home. And you can, too!

And of course, what did we learn in Hebrew class today, the day after I needed to go to the Kupat Cholim (health clinic)? All about going to the Kupat Cholim.

Thanks. Now I'll know for next time.

Joooos on Skiiiiis

2009-02-26T13:24:00.006+02:00

Y'know, Jews aren't famous for their sports abilities. Sure, there have been some famous sporty Jews - Hank Greenberg, Sandy Koufax, Daniel somebody-the-boxer? weightlifter?, and I'm sure a few football players out there - but our talents out on the field are not things we are known for.

That was very evident yesterday when we were at Har Hermon, Israel's ski resort.

Yes, Israel has a ski resort. A very nice one, in fact. The *resort* itself isn't much to look at, but the slopes look nice. The "bunny hill" was packed with people. Mostly falling down and trying to get back up. The area where you put on your rented skis and head out to the slopes was a writhing mass of bodies tripping over each other, sliding into each other and pretty much falling down or struggling very hard to stay upright. There was also a noticable lack of ski etiquette.

Eh, I'm being unfair in giving the impression that Jews can't ski. There were plenty of Arabs there (judging by the massive number of kaffiyehs), and they sucked just as bad. Although, come to think of it, I didn't see too many of them actually on skis...

At one point, I look up the hill at one of the "expert" slopes, and saw about 5 or 6 people swoop beautifully around from behind a hill. For a brief moment I thought, "now that's skiing beauty." Then they all wiped out. Every one of them.

But the important thing was every one (nearly every one, there were a few cranky kids here and there) was having fun. Whether on skis or snowboards or sleds or nothing at all, everyone was smiling and laughing and having fun in the snow. And there was LOTS of snow!

We only had a few hours, and Morey doesn't ski ever since that tree jumped out of the woods and cruelly accosted him without any provocation whatsoever, so we had lunch by the toboggan ride (which we would have gone on, except the car wasn't big enough for two adults and we weren't enthusiastic enough to stand on a long line when we couldn't ride together), tried to remember how to climb a hill in the snow, stood in a really long line for the chair lift (here it's called a cable car) to take us to the top, had rum coffee while taking in the spectacular view, watched some charedi men sledding with their kids (I think the kids were just an excuse!), then laughed through the bitterly cold ride down while oohing and aahing over the amazing scenery.

Har Hermon is right at the border with Lebanon and Syria, and because of its height is obviously a very strategic location. It is surrounded by military bases, and we actually passed a unit that must have been doing some training. They were climbing along the side of the mountain in winter camouflage. The road to the ski resort continues past the resort, but it is closed to civilians. There are soldiers all over the place, and in fact, when we were at the top, I looked off in the distance, which looked like it was just a barren swath of land, and saw two soldiers coming out of the mist. It was like a scene from a movie.

We also had to go through a security checkpoint to get up the hill to the ski resort, and then had to go through security/metal detectors to get into the site. Israel is a very different place.

It was a long trip; 4 hours up and 4 hours back. But When you live in a desert, every appreciates the novelty of snow, and travelling 8 hours to spend 3 1/2 playing in the snow doesn't seem like such a strange thing to do!

More pictures here at Facebook.

What can you do in six hours?

2009-02-16T23:25:00.006+02:00

What do you do in Israel if you rent a car for a day or two? You go to Ikea! Well, if you're us, first you take a night drive to Kiryat Ekron to buy some booze.

Then, you go to Ikea!

In two days, we went to two different places that I've never been to before, and I drove on foreign roads (and dealt with getting lost on one of them) to get to both! Very exciting for me. It was a beautiful hour-long drive to Netanya today, although I wish we had taken the beach road up. We planned on getting there quickly, and driving along the beach on the way home, but really, who expected a) we would be at Ikea for 6 hours, and b) it would be raining on the way home. And of course, we got stuck in Israeli traffic, so it took us an hour and a half to get back.

So what's the difference between Ikea, Richmond (Canada) and Ikea, Netanya (Israel)?

um...

let's see...

hmm...

Well, okay, there are a few differences:

1. You have to go through security and a metal detector to get in.
2. The food in the restaurant is KOSHER!
3. Everyone speaks Hebrew.
4. The "doors" of the display rooms have mezuzot on them.
5. People stopped in the middle of the item pick-up area to daven mincha (afternoon prayers).
6. There are play areas for the kids all over the store, not just in the child-minding area.
7. You have to pay for a plastic bag to put all your purchases in.

(I don't mind that last item one bit, because maybe it keeps the plastic bag consumption down.)

Morey and I were in one of the departments, when we both did a bit of a double-take. It seemed, for a moment there, we had both forgotten we were in Israel, and were surprised when we heard Hebrew.

We have been waiting over 6 months to go to Ikea, so we had built up a big shopping list - apparently enough of a list to fill one hour for every month. We've tried to find the things we need (bookshelves and wardrobes - we have no closets) locally, but no dice. So, 6 hours and a bill big enough to cause Visa to call us to make sure it really was us using the card later, we finally headed home.

We're a little surprised at how exhausted we both are, and how much our legs hurt. Which, I guess, shouldn't really be surprising considering we spent 6 HOURS walking. Very slowly, but walking.

Our new purchases are being delivered tomorrow, so I have two wardrobes and three bookshelves to put together. And since ulpan starts up again next Sunday, instead of a week from Sunday as we were originally told, my timeline for getting these things all put together has shrunk considerably.

We have the car for one more day, so there are a few errands in the morning, but then, barring rain, the afternoon is for taking Maimo to the pea-ay-ar-kay (shhh. We don't want to get him excited in case it rains). It's his reward for being home alone today for 9 hours. Six of which were, y'know, spent at Ikea.

Election Day!

2009-02-10T20:42:00.003+02:00

Today is election day in Israel, a national holiday. After weeks of banners, print ads, radio ads, tv ads (I am grateful yet again, that we do not own a television), it finally comes down to this:

We walk to the local school (I more or less dragged myself, being sick as a dog).
We find the room with our number on it.
We stand in line, because only one person at a time is allowed in the voting room.
When my turn is called, I hand my Teudat Zehut (national ID card) to the nice lady behind the desk.
She hands me a pretty blue envelope.
I go to a table that has a three-sided cardboard privacy screen.
I am faced with this:

photo from muqata.blogspot.com

These are slips of paper. Each Hebrew letter represents a political party (yes, there are that many parties in Israel!).

I pick up one (only one! If you accidently put in two, your vote is invalidated) slip with my party's letter, and put it in the pretty blue envelope.
I seal the envelope.
I walk back to the desk and put my envelope in the pretty blue box.
I get my ID back from the nice lady.
I leave, having done my civic duty.

It's a good thing the actual procedure is so simple, because deciding who to vote for in this country is not. Do you vote for the party where nearly every member is under investigation for some thing or another, with the exception of the party leader, who has shown a lack of strength? Do you vote for the one of the two parties whose leaders have already been Prime Minister in the past, and well, didn't do much to inspire confidence? Do you vote for one of the leftist green parties? The extreme right-wing party who wants to run all the Arabs out of Israel? The extreme religious party who thinks everyone in Israel should live under their definition of Jewish religious law?

There are three primary items, in my opinion, that are of utmost importance to voters in Israel: security, economy and religion (enforcement of or freedom from). Trying to find a party that covers the right combination of all three is a challenge. Just like in the US, except now I have to decide between 23 or so parties, rather than just the plain old 2 or 3.

I kind of wanted someone to take my picture as I voted ("look! My first federal election!"), but at the same time, I already voted in my local elections, so the "first-time" thrill was gone. And the stress of wondering how the election will go, who will be running our country, and what kind of coalition will be formed (with so many parties, no one party gets enough of a majority, so coalitions between the parties are necessary. It's really complicated here.) overrides much of the excitement. Whoever wins, may G-d grant them the strength, honesty*, commitment and faith to make decisions that will be for the good of the country and her people.

*All the Israelis who are reading this: stop laughing. I know, I know.

Another update to Morey's blog

2009-01-25T15:44:00.003+02:00

I know, we're slacking over here, but hey! We have a Hebrew test to prepare for! Meanwhile, Morey's updated his blog with a new post, about circumsion. Call it a "slice of life" post ;)

Eyeless in Gaza

2009-01-04T18:09:00.003+02:00

Posted on my personal blog:

I received an interesting, but disconcerting email the other day. An old friend accused me of - wait for it - changing. He harangued me for my present political position on Gaza and Israel's need to attack Hamas, and suggested the guy he used to know would never have supported the use of force. Apparently, I was much more of a Leftist in my youth. True enough. I like to think of myself now as a pragmatist, that is, I believe governments and people should conduct themselves according to reasoned need and not based on rules in some out-of-date ideological handbook. He changed, too. The guy I knew back then would have done more research before making such uninformed comments. In fact, I still remember him chewing me out for speaking out of my backside on Northern Ireland. But he has been living in the UK for many years, so I suppose he can be forgiven.

However, I felt his comments deserved a response. Gaza, after all, is a very complex situation.

Read the rest here.

Asshats

2009-01-04T12:16:00.006+02:00

The one thing I will never understand is why all the celebrity protesters come out of the woodwork whenever Israel starts to defend herself from her enemies. After calling for Israel to stop its attacks on Gaza, Annie Lennox said violence could never be a solution to conflict.

First of all, let's define "violent":
- Physical force exerted for the purpose of violating, damaging, or abusing: crimes of violence.
- an unjust or unwarranted exertion of force or power, as against rights or laws: to take over a government by violence.

Now let's define "violence":
- acting with or characterized by uncontrolled, strong, rough force: a violent earthquake.

No one would say the IDF is uncontrolled. The moonbats out there could easily twist this around and say that Israel is "violating" Gaza or "using an unjust exertion of force" in Gaza, but once you define "violence" you see that the word is implies an uncontrolled, primitive force.

Much like a Kassam rocket. Strong enough to do violent damage to a home or a person, but not in a controlled, orderly manner.

Like an army.

Israel is not acting violent, Israel is acting like a nation being attacked. Israel is sending her army in to stop the enemy in a strategic manner. Yes, people die in a war. Death from a military strike can be a violent death. But a strategically dropped missile in a justifiable military action is not violence.

Sending primitive, but lethal rockets into areas whose target you can't specify, so you hit kindergardens, playgrounds and livingrooms? That's violence. And where were Annie Lennox and Bianca Jagger* when these rockets were raining down on Israeli children? Having their nails done?

So I can't help but conclude that their silence means that Jewish children don't matter. If rockets are landing on Jewish kindergardens and playgrounds and the world doesn't cry out in horror, it can only mean that the lives of Jewish children are disposable.

And yet they call us Nazis.

*You can add Roseanne Barr to the list, too. Why are there so many Jews who don't care about Jews getting killed?

Why there is war in Gaza

2009-01-04T12:16:00.001+02:00

Ground war

2009-01-03T21:50:00.004+02:00

The ground offensive has begun in Gaza. We pray for the success and safety of our troops.

He Who blessed our forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob - may He bless the fighters of the Israel Defense Force, who stand guard over our land and the cities of our God from the border of the Lebanon to the desert of Egypt, and from the Great Sea unto the approach of the Aravah, on the land, in the air, and on the sea.

May Hashem cause the enemies who rise up against us to be struck down before them. May the Holy One, Blessed is He, preserve and rescue our fighting men from every trouble and distress and from every plague and illness, and may He send blessing and success in their every endeavor. May He lead our enemies under their sway and may He grant them salvation and crown them with victory. And may there be fulfilled for them the verse: For it is Hashem, your God, Who goes with you to battle your enemies for you to save you. Now let us respond: Amen.

We also pray for the safety of the residents of the cities of Israel that are within rocket range.

*HT for image: The Muqata

Surreality

2008-12-31T17:17:00.003+02:00

There's something surreal about being a Jew in Israel on a bus driven by an Arab with both of us listening to the same radio announcer discussing the war on Hamas.

I wonder if each us was wondering what the other was thinking?

War

2008-12-30T19:02:00.004+02:00

Contrary to the song of the same name, sometimes war is good for something. In this case, letting Hamas know they can no longer rain down rockets on Israeli cities unchecked, risking the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

Firing back is never a good thing, but sometimes it is necessary. I'll let David Bogner's comment on his blog speak for my feeling on this:

"are you serious? ... I have a deal for you. What if I decided to sit in my car across the street from your house and get good and drunk every day. When your kids get off the school bus I get to shoot in their general direction. My state of inebriation and lack of aiming will almost guarantee that I'll miss your kids every time. I may mess up the paint job on your house, but who cares... you have to repaint at some point anyway, right. What's that? You don't want to take that chance with your kids? So why is it you are OK with Israeli kids living under fire every day? What you REALLY need is to be dragged from your comfortable Brooklyn apartment and flown to Sderot where you will be chained to a sign post in the center of town for just one day. When the sirens start going off (as they do every 20 - 30 minutes) you can take comfort in the fact that "there had not been a single Israeli death from rocket fire since June". The odds are with you, right? RIGHT?! Idiot."

Anyway, this is mainly to let you all know that we are safe and, at the moment, far enough away from where the action is. And if anyone has read about the Palestinian Arab who stabbed 4 people in Modi'in Illit, that is a town called Kiryat Sefer (it's also known as Modi'in Illit), across the highway from us. It is not Modi'in. We are, thank G-d, out of rocket range, although we have been hearing all the jets taking off from nearby. We knew the Operation had started on Shabbat when we heard all the jets, although we couldn't confirm until Shabbat was over. It's a little strange actually being here while an action is going on, but to be honest, it almost feels less real here, because life for the rest of us is going on as "normal."

Except we're all praying a little more and listening a little harder.

Prayer for Soldiers
May the Almighty cause the enemies who rise up against us to be struck down before them. May the Holy One, Blessed is He, preserve and rescue our fighters from every trouble and distress and from every plague and illness, and may He send blessing and success in their every endeavor.

Amen.

Sderot in peacetime

2008-12-27T18:44:00.004+02:00

1-tzeva adom, 2-tzeva adom, 3-tzeva adom, 4-tzeva adom, 5-tzeva adom, 6-tzeva adom, 7-tzeva adom, 8-tzeva adom, 9-tzeva adom, 10-tzeva adom, 11-tzeva adom, 12-tzeva adom, 13-tzeva adom, 14-tzeva adom, 15-

BOOM

That is the amount of time you would have to get to a shelter to protect yourself from an incoming rocket if you lived in Sderot. Or last Wednesday, Ashkelon. Or Netivot.

I have wanted to visit Sderot for a while, and when I heard that Connections Israel, an organization that arranges for Chanukah and Purim gift baskets for residents in Sderot, and for IDF soldiers, had arranged for a trip to Sderot last Wednesday, I signed up and dragged our friend David along for the ride (I didn't really have to drag him; he was just as interested as I was).

Why did I want to visit Sderot, which has rockets falling on it on a daily basis? I'm not entirely sure. I'm angry that our government has done nothing serious to stop these attacks.* I'm angry that the world isn't unified in its outrage over indescriminate bombing of a sovereign nation. That the masked men who are firing these bombs are referred to delicately as "militants" rather than the terrorists they are. I'm angry that an entire generation of children are growing up with PTSD, where wetting the bed at age 11 is a common occurrence. A generation of children who don't know what it's like to freely play outside in the open in a playground. I've seen videos of residents of Sderot who state that they the rest of Israel doesn't know they exist, and even if they do know, they don't care. I wanted to tell them that we do know they exist, and we do care.

The media distorts everything, so I wanted to see for myself how the people of Sderot live, what Sderot is like. I'm an Army brat; growing up on Army bases you get used to hearing cannons and various weaponry, so I know what a rocket can do. But to read articles about Sderot and the Kassam rockets, one could easily get the impressions that a Kassam rocket is no more dangerous than a mis-aimed bottle rocket. "Homemade." "Inaccurate." "Short range." These are just some of the terms used to describe Kassams.

Let me tell you, "Homemade" "Inaccurate" and "Short range" missiles can kill and maim just as easily as factory-made, computer-guided, long range missiles can. It's not just the physical damage, either. Spending every day with half an ear tuned to listening for the Tzeva Adom alert, half an eye scouting out for the nearest shelter, and having to interrupt what you're doing to run to a shelter every time you hear the alert will make a mess of your nerves. Stress levels are through the roof, and that damages your body from the inside.

We had just a very very small taste of what people here go through. We walked past the firehouse and had to turn around and go back when we heard the first alarm. We continued on our journey, and had to turn around and go back when we heard the second alarm. You don't get very far when you have to keep stopping and going back to where you started. We experienced these life-threatening interruptions just twice in about 4 hours. I jumped out of my skin at the second Kassam that fell close enough to shake the walls of my protective shelter. I can't even begin to imagine what it would do to someone day in and day out.

Yet, when we stopped for lunch in the centre of town, where evidence of fallen Kassams is everywhere, people were out, waiting for buses, ordering food, buying goods at the bakery, standing around chatting with each other. They make sure life goes on. Some people are there because they have nowhere else to go. How do you sell your home to make a new life elsewhere, when bombs are raining down around you? Some are there because they are adamant that Sderot is their home and they won't leave. Still others are there because they believe they are Israel's front line. If they leave, Hamas will just move the bombing further into Israel. I heard this in an interview with an 8-year-old girl. At 8, she feels the weight of the protection of the entire country.

Cars pulled over when they saw us to wish us Kol Hakavod (lit: "all the respect") for coming. Others called us "heroes." I wanted to say that spending 4 hours in their world was not being heroic - I can go home to my safe home, far from falling rockets. The residents of Sderot live with this every day, they struggle with this every day, they drop everything to run to shelters every day, they will have to figure out how to deal with the consequences of traumatic stress disorders on them and their children in the future. They are the heroes.

Speaking of 8-year-olds, the one thing I did not see anywhere during this Chanukah break was children. One of our hosts took us to his home, where we met his some of his children. But outside, where in Modi'in or Jerusalem or Tel Aviv or Kiryat Sefer we'd see tons of kids playing outside, running around or riding their bicycles, or mothers pushing their babies in prams, in Sderot, I did not see a single child outside.

It's just not safe enough.

*Today, Israel started Operation "Cast Lead" in Gaza to finally, b"H, put a stop to this bombing. The name "Cast Lead" is from a poem by Hayim Nahman Bialik, referring to a "dreidel cast from solid lead." May G-d keep our soldiers safe and their aim true, and bring them success in this Operation.

Nes Gadol Hayah PO!*

2008-12-22T17:17:00.004+02:00

One of the amazing things about being in Israel is being able to visit the sights of the many occurrences in the Torah. Being able to look out our windows at the hills of Judea. Being able to touch the walls that Herod built around the Beit HaMikdash (the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, which no longer exists. The remaining piece of the retaining wall is known as the Western Wall). Being able to celebrate holidays with other people who are celebrating the same holiday, rather than being the odd man out.

It never occurred to us, though, that in our choice of town in Israel, we would be celebrating our first Chanukah in Israel in the very spot where the makings of this holiday took place. Very briefly:

In the 2nd century BCE (Before Common Era), when the Greeks ruled what is now Israel, the ruler Antiochus forbade Jewish observance. Jews were not allowed to study Torah, keep Shabbat, give their sons Brit Milah (circumcision), eat kosher food and the Greeks put statues of Zeus and other gods in the Temple in Jerusalem - all in an attempt to assimilate the Jews completely into Greek culture.

A group of Jews, led by Mattityahu HaCohen, and his sons - most famously, Judah Maccabbee - rebelled against the Greeks. Despite being grossly out-armed and outnumbered, the Maccabim prevailed. When they went to clean and purify the Temple, they found only one cask of oil with seal of the Cohen Gadol, or high priest. This oil would only be enough to light the Menorah in the temple for one night, but miraculously, it stayed lit for 8 days, which was long enough for more purified oil to be located.

In honour of this miracle, we light our menorahs (or more accurately, a Chanukiah. A Menorah has 6 branches, a Chanukiah, 8) for 8 nights.

The Maccabim fought against the Greeks in the area that is now known as the city of Modi'in. The graves of the Maccabim are in the forest across the highway from my house. I can see the forest from my balcony. It took 2 minutes to drive there (it was another 20 minutes to remember exactly where in the forest the graves were, but that's another story).**

I started the first night of my first Chanukah in Israel reciting the prayer for the Righteous over the graves of the actual people whose courage and commitment to the laws of Torah thousands of years ago gave us this holiday. I lit my Chanukah candles overlooking hills that contain artifacts from the Hashmonean period, the period of rule by the Maccabees.

After we lit and our friend David HaCohen led us in some Chanukah songs, since we had rented a car, we went shopping around town. Every store had a Chanukiah, lit with a first-night candle and everyone was wishing everyone a "Chag Sameach!" (basically, festive day). There were even a few stores giving out free sufganiyot (jelly donuts).

I have to admit, I'm a bit in awe of my first night of Chanukah. It's not considered a major holiday; in fact, it's not even a Torah holiday, but when you put it all together, I think my first night of my first Chanukah in Israel will stand as my favourite holiday moment ever.

Chag sameach!

*If you look at a dreidel, there are Hebrew letters written on the sides:

נ ג ה ש
נ - nun, ג - gimmel, ה - hay, ש - shin
Nes Gadol Haya Sham - A great miracle happened there.

But here in Israel, we say,
נ ג ה פ
Nes Gadol Haya Po - A great miracle happened HERE!

**There's an archeological dispute over the graves. A set of graves were found in this forest, Yar Ben Shemen, that are currently identified by the State of Israel as the graves of the Maccabim. Archeologists believe that another set of graves in another part of the forest are actually the graves of the Maccabim, and that the first set of graves are not accurate to the time period. They won't be excavated anytime soon, for all sorts of political reasons. Logic, science and the Book of Maccabbee lead us to agree with the archeologists.

A monument to the modern-day Maccabim who died in the war in 1948,
very near the location of the graves of the ancient Maccabim.

Seven things about me

2008-12-10T18:55:00.004+02:00

Since I'm too brain-dead to think of anything to post that actually pertains to this blog (we went on a tiyul today that I hope to muster up the brain strength to write about soon!), I'll respond to the tag for this meme from Kelli at Children Mentioned (the same Kelli of the Jeremy & Kelli who found us our wonderful apartment. Twice.) btw, Kelli specifically tagged me, not Morey or me, which is why I'm responding. And I could never get Morey to do one of these anyway*.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people (if possible) at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs.

=======
Seven things about me that you probably could care less about ;)

1. I have never lived in one place more than 3 years until I moved to Vancouver, with the exception of 4 years in the same house in Bedford NY. By one place I mean, the same home. In Vancouver, I lived in the same house for 7 years - an eternity for me!

2. Because of blogging, and reading other people's blogs, I discovered that I'm not a freak who can't stand my hair in my face, elastic on my wrists, lace touching my skin, or not having a heavy weight on my legs when I sleep; I actually have sensory issues.*

3. I dream in colour. I dream in extreme detail. Strangely (and sadly, in two cases), sometimes my dreams come true. I also have a recurring dreams. I'm tempted to write one of the recurring dreams (although it's more like a mini-series than recurrant) into a book of some sort.

4. I have wanted to move to Israel for over 20 years. I wish I hadn't waited so long. But I guess it was supposed to happen this way.

5. I have been drawn to observant Judaism since I can remember. In my non-religious family, I pushed for a Chanukiah, I wanted to observe my Bat Mitzvah, even though no one else had had one (my one-year-older cousin celebrated her Bat Mitzvah a year before me). I have suspicions that it might have something to do with being sent to an Orthodox day school for kindergarten and half of first grade (my father was in Vietnam and my mom and I lived with my also secular grandparents. For some reason they decided to send me to a Jewish school.)

6. Ironically, my very first kiss from a boy was in that same Orthodox day school.

7. I hated high school. I positively adored nearly every minute of school, right up until 8th grade, when I moved back to the US, after living in Germany (and attending American dependent schools). Then I hated nearly every minute of school (there were exceptions. Thank you, Mrs. Schneider). So much so, that I threatened to drop out if I wasn't allowed to graduate early. My last year, I doubled-up on all my classes, and graduated in January. I loved my senior year. I had four English classes with papers and short stories due every week. I had a serious photography class. A teacher offered to buy one of my photos, and one of my short stories was submitted by a teacher to a magazine. And I had a solo in the school chorus' production of Handel's "Messiah" (okay, forget the piece. Focus on the solo. Besides, it's all from Isaiah, which is our book anyway.)

So now I'm supposed to tag seven people, but my list is short as most of my blogging buddies have already been tagged, or I know them through my anonymous blog, in which case, I ain't taggin' 'em here:

1. Evenewra
2. Jay at Picture This
3. Al at Bokashi Blog
4. *And because I love futility, Morey

and that about wraps that up. :)

*edited to add: this was not a self-diagnosis from Dr. Google. This person's symptoms sounded exactly like my issues, so I asked a doctor. Always follow-up, never assume, just because you read something on the internet ;)

May you be comforted

2008-11-25T17:29:00.003+02:00

I don't even know where to start with this. We have ongoing assignments in Ulpan to write a story on a particular topic and read it in front of the class. The current topic is "best friend."

This morning in class, a student wrote about his first wife, who died a few years ago. Today was her yahrzeit. She sounds like she was an amazing woman, and our classmate certainly did his part in elevating her neshama (soul) today. It was a privilege to share in her story.

That's not what got to me. Well, yes, her story did touch me, of course. But in any classroom, anywhere, this story could have been heard. Many people have lost loved ones, and have shared stories about them.

But what wouldn't typically happen in a typical classroom anywhere? You wouldn't have the entire class be attentive while the storyteller gave a learning, and then stand together while he recited Kaddish (mourner's prayer), with nearly the whole class giving the appropriate responses. You wouldn't have that followed by a little nosherei in the wife's honour. You wouldn't have all this done with the teacher's approval, encouragement and participation.

It was an honour to be a part of this man's observance of his first wife's yahrzeit, and I am grateful he felt this was something he wanted to share with his classmates. And I am so grateful to be in a country where this didn't seem at all out of place. To anyone.

May her memory be for a blessing.

Someone's gotta toot his horn

2008-11-13T14:16:00.002+02:00

Quick! Run out and pick up the latest edition (24 November 2008)of The Jerusalem Report! Turn to page 66 and before you do anything else, read the byline.

Then let Morey know how impressed you are that he's been published in a major Israeli magazine. :) You can read an excerpt of the article here.

You won't find caped crusaders or masked superheroes in any of these comic books. Instead, Miriam Libicki's "jobnik!" chronicles her day-to-day life in the Israeli army in frank, often blunt terms. Jobnik is Israeli slang for soldiers in non-combat roles. More of an illustrated diary than a comic, "jobnik!" takes us behind the heroic façade, to where soldiers wash dishes, file reports and fool around.

If you want to read the whole article, you have to buy the magazine.

If you want to buy Miriam's comic, you can order it here.

If you want to give Morey a Mazal Tov!, you can email him here.

Yasher koach, Moe!

Vote early, vote often

2008-11-11T19:36:00.002+02:00

Today we voted in our very first Israeli elections! Exciting stuff.

After being told that we weren't eligible to vote, we received voting cards in the mail. Which, naturally, confused us. Upon investigation, we discovered that the candidate for mayor who informed us we weren't eligible, was wrong. That does not bode well for a mayoral candidate. And it meant we had to cram about who to vote for.

So today, we took our voter cards, found our polling place, asked for help in English, listened to one of the volunteers make a joke about all the people asking for help in English - probably not realizing that we understood what she was saying - and were shown to our voting room.

Only one person at a time can go into the whole room. I showed my Teudat Zehut (identity card), gave the (thankfully English-speaking person who was extremely friendly and helpful and enthusiastic about this being my first time voting in Israel) my voting card, she confirmed me on the list (I was dead last) and gave me a yellow envelope (for mayor) and a white envelope (for city council). I took my envelopes, went behind a cardboard screen, picked up a yellow square of paper with my candidate's name on it and put it in the yellow envelope, then picked up a square of white paper with the party's designation on it and put that in the white envelope. Then I came out from behind the cardboard screen, and placed my envelopes in the big box and "ze hu!" I was done.

I don't know what they would have done if I didn't read Hebrew, but I was excited that I could read all the candidate's names without thinking about it. It's such a simple process here, yet I feel disproportionately proud about voting. Maybe because it emphasizes the fact that I am here. Gee, how am I going to feel about voting in the Federal election??

(yes, yes, I know, we need to post more. It's hard during Ulpan. Ulpan sucks your brain dry. There is no thought power left after Ulpan. Well, after Ulpan and Facebook.)

Hebrew for dummies

2008-11-02T16:21:00.003+02:00

Dear Blog,
Today in Hebrew skool we uzed our sissers and made big cuts in our notebooks. Then we drew lots of lines and rote words at the top for ~~catagoe~~catagorees. Then teacher yelled us at us becuz we rote the catagorees rong. I membered to bring my erasur, my ruler, my pensil sharpener, my sissers and my yellow magic marker. Then teacher had us rite words in Hebrew but we had to be very very careful to put the rite word on the rite page. I did not want teacher to yell at us again.

Yep, this is what we’ve been reduced to. Arts and crafts for first graders. Every day I have to come home and look at myself in the mirror and say, “I am a college graduate” just to remind myself.

It's raining Macs

2008-10-29T17:38:00.002+02:00

So we said goodbye to the Betty and while we were at the airport waiting for the El Al counter to open, we treated ourselves to kosher McDonald's. And it was a treat, because it cost just as much as a meal in a nice cafe. Yep, a Big Mac sets you back 40 shekel. Auoof.

But we figure, it's been many many years since we've had a Big Mac, and it will likely be a very long time before we have it again, so we'll spend the extra kesef. And it's not that Mickey-D's is a hot spot of ours, it's just that it's one of those things that everybody else gets to have, but we couldn't because it's not kosher. But here in Israel, there is kosher fast food. Yes, even people who keep kosher can now stuff themselves with saturated fats, trans fats and any other kind of fat you can think of. Exciting, eh? We had our hit of Mac, and now we're good.

In other news, when it rains in Israel, it rains! It's been raining nearly every day, and when it rains, it pours. Torrentially. It's really cool to watch, but it means clothing takes forever to dry, and in these stone/cinderblock houses built for the summers, things get cold very quickly with no sun. The temperature has actually only dropped 5 or 6 degrees (celcius), but with little sun, and nothing to retain the heat of the sun when it is out (big trees, grass, soil, insulated buildings), it feels right chilly.

Which meant today was the perfect day to go and pick up our new duvets, a housewarming present from Betty (thank you!). We're looking forward to being snuggly warm tonight, because we want to avoid turning on the (extremely expensive) heat as long as possible.

Ulpan started up again; it's nice to be getting back into a routine. Chol HaMoed is hard here. Have I said that? Have I mentioned how busy it is during the break, and how the break is really no break at all? Have I?

The next break is Chanukah. We're going to sleep and eat sufganiyot (donuts) the whole break.

Torah!

2008-10-21T22:01:00.002+02:00

In Israel, Shmeni Atzeret and Simchat Torah are squished together into one holiday.

Thank G-d. I don't think I could handle another holiday.

Er, I mean, how wonderful to increase the joy of a holiday!

Today was very cool. I walked over an hour to the other side of town to the womens' tefillah group, where I read Torah with and for other women. It was a tremendous blessing to be leining (reading) the Torah, our holy words from G-d, in Israel, our holy land given to us by G-d. Yes, I got a little choked after the first reading (we read this portion of the Torah over and over again, until everyone has a chance to come up and make the blessing - or in the womens' case, a statement and request - over the reading).

There was much dancing, much singing and many introductions for me. I had been worried about Simchat Torah here in Israel, because it winds up being a men's festival. In the Orthodox community, women tend to get left out of Simchat Torah for reasons that would take more detail than I have energy to go into here. In Vancouver, we had a womens' reading every year, but in Israel, it's not very common. I certainly didn't expect it here in Modi'in. I'm so glad I was wrong. I had a kickin' Simchat Torah, topped off with lunch with one of our first new friends in Modi'in. And that was topped off by her father being in town visiting. Oscar was Gabbai at Schara Tzedeck in Vancouver, and it was fun catching up.

Next up: our first tiyyul!

Succah!

2008-10-19T15:42:00.002+02:00

Yeah, yeah, sorry we haven't posted in a long while. Chol HaMoed is reeeeaally busy around here! We foolishly thought we'd be getting a break, some time off to take care of some errands and chores and maybe finally get around to getting those bookshelves and cupboards we need to finally finish emptying the boxes.

Yeah. Um, not happening.

We have been having a lovely time, it's just been go go go! First there was Yom Kippur, then we had to buy s'chach (the roof for the succah), then we wound up having to buy succah walls, then we had to build the darn thing, then it was Succot and Pamela joined us. Then we were off to Jerusalem to see my Kaufman cousins, then a friend came to visit, then Morey's mum, Betty, arrived from Ottawa. So now we're off to Zichron Yaakov, then it's Simchat Torah (I am, b"H, reading Torah at a womens' tefillah group), then Wednesday we have a tiyyul (a trip, like a touristy kind of bus/group trip), then Thursday it's back to Ulpan.

Phew.

I need a break from our break.

Meanwhile, we were thrilled to be able to go to the local home store and buy all our Succah supplies. Yep, at the local equivalent of Home Hardware. Sweet. And all the succahs!! So cool!

Enjoy some pics of Sukkahs! Although, I don't think I'd want to eat in the succah on the 4th floor that's balanced on scaffolding...

Morey on the roof making the roof.

Happy Holidays Part 2 of 4

2008-10-08T12:49:00.003+02:00

It's erev Yom Kippur. I thought we'd take a break from all the eating to wish everyone a G'mar Chatima Tova.

May you have a meaningful fast, may the heavens open to receive your tefillot, and may you be sealed in the Book of Life for a good, joyous year.

Another reason why we're here

2008-10-07T18:55:00.003+02:00

Speaking of G'mar Chatima Tova, here's another thing that makes me giddy like a schoolgirl to be living in Israel.

Back in Vancouver around this time of year, we'd be scrambling to explain to our bosses why we pretty much need off two days in a row every week for 5 weeks straight. Not to mention dealing with the nasty looks from co-workers who were thinking about all the summer vacation time we had just had. Not to mention chasing after city workers who were trimming trees so we could snag some schach. Or begging our neighbours to help us cut down our (and their) wild bamboo for schach. And having people stop and stare as we built a hut in the yard. Or the exhaustion of shopping, cooking, shopping, cooking, shopping, cooking.

Here, all those days off are national holidays. No one gives nasty looks, even though we've all had summer vacation time very recently. Here, they sell schach in front of the home store and at the mall. Here, people might stop and stare, but only in admiration for the elaborate decorations. There's still the shopping and cooking, but instead of having to make nearly everything from scratch, you can do a lot more shopping and a lot less cooking, if you choose. Everyone in Ulpan was talking about Yom Kippur and Sukkot, everyone has family coming (including us! Morey's mum is visiting. And hopefully bringing Scotch).

Even the supermarket had a bin of Sukkah decorations. They looked suspiciously like xmas tree decorations to me, but whatever.

And the topper to this all: the woman who rang us up/checked us out at the supermarket wished us a "G'mar Chatima Tovah" (which basically means, "May you be inscribed in the Book of Life for Good"). It's a normal fact of daily life.

I love it here.

יום הולדת שמח

2008-10-06T20:58:00.007+02:00

Yom Huledet Sameach, Ayala!

Anachnu ohavim otach,
עליזה ומורי

I suppose we could have stayed in bed this morning*

2008-10-06T20:40:00.004+02:00

Today after ulpan, we went to Yishpro Centre to buy sheets. We are currently using borrowed sheets (on our new mattresses!), which have to be returned for Sukkot. We finally had a free afternoon, so off we went. The journey started off on a good note, when we were offered a ride to the #6 bus stop, saving us a 10 minute walk, although this meant a 10 minute wait at the bus stop. But always: better a wait than a walk! We got to Yishpro, and on a whim, decided to check out Murphy's Irish Pub. Which is all the way on the other side of Yishpro (Yishpro is pretty big). And here's where things started to go downhill. We got all the way to the pub, only to discover it was closed. Poor Morey was so disappointed - the idea of pub food** and a beer?!

I was so disappointed, because we had to walk allllll the way back. After a quick lunch at Cuppa Joe, we went to the brand new supermarket, which was great. Morey shopped, I talked to Cigal on the phone. While Morey stood in line, I went to Home Centre to get the sheets. And here's where things continued to go downhill. In hindsight, this is where we should have just called a cab and gone home.

First, we maxed the credit card. I knew we were close, I just haven't had a chance to sit down and look at the statement online and make a payment. My bad. Morey ran to the caspomat (ATM) which was 30 seconds away and came back to find the kupai (checker) had started ringing up someone else. Who had a very very full cart. 1,121 shekel, 30 agarot and 25 minutes later, Morey was finally able to pay.

Thanks to the maxed out credit card, we weren`t able to buy sheets, which was the reason we went to Yishpro in the first place. So we wound up buying only lightbulbs, and a gas hose to replace the one we're borrowing for our stove. We also ran into one of our ulpan classmates while shopping. Simon's always great to chat with; he has such a sunny disposition. I've never seen him get frustrated over anything.

Off we go to the bus, and once again, I served as Modi'in (information) for the bus. I either look like a bus company employee, or like I take the bus a lot because I'm always being asked about the bus routes. And here's where everything really went downhill. We want to catch the connecting bus from the train station next to the mall that goes nearest our house because we're laden with bags and don't want to walk far. Except the #6, which picks up at the mall to go to Yishpro, doesn't drop off at the mall. So we wind up walking to the mall (which thankfully, wasn't too far, but still...), around the mall to the other side, to wait for the 1A.

The bus driver wasn't too effusive when we confirmed that he was a 1A (the drivers rarely remember to change their sign from '1' to '1A') and double-confirmed that he went to our street, but he did nod, which we took to be a yes. Except, when he got to our street, he went up the hill instead of down, taking us very far from our destination. We were the only people on the bus at that point, so we stopped the bus, then stood our ground about how he went the wrong way. He didn't argue with us, just put his head in his hands***, which made me feel really bad for him. I'm sure he had had a bad day, and just wanted to go home, which maybe is why he decided to skip our street. However, we had 7 heavy grocery bags, plus our heavy backpacks with our (oye) school books, which we were not going to shlep all the way down the hill.

He just sat there, so finally I asked him in Hebrew, were we just going to sit there all night? He asked where we wanted to go, and we told him, and told him again that the way he went was not correct. He finally closed the door to the bus and started moving, and I asked him where he was going. He said, "L'baita, l'baita" (to your home, to your home). And he drove us to our stop. We conducted this whole exchange in Hebrew, and we were successful! Yay us! I just wish I knew how to say, "I'm sorry you're having such a bad day, and I hope it's better tomorrow." Instead I thanked him very profusely, and hopefully gently, and wished him a "G'mar chatima tova" which is the usual greeting for the days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. It basically means, "May you be inscribed in the Book of Life for Good." I truly wish for him a better day.

Meanwhile, while basking in our foreign language success, we got home to realize we were overcharged by one shekel for our stuffed grape leaves (thank you Leah for translating!), and our sparkling wine for Shabbat was not in any of the bags. But it most certainly was on the receipt. And somehow, we lost the box of Earl Grey tea I put in the cart, which was not on the receipt. And last but not least, when I took out one of the lightbulb boxes from the bag, it had a suspicious tinkly sound. Guess we get to do all of this again tomorrow....

* We should have known something was up: we missed our bus to ulpan this morning.
** We have since discovered they're probably not kosher, so maybe it's no great loss, anyway. Still, a beer would have been nice.
*** Like Moshe in Parshat Korach when Korach confronts Moshe about who made him a leader, anyway? and King David in Tachanun. Don't know if the bus driver's a great leader, but it's a recurring theme in Jewish texts - when leaders (a bus driver leads his passengers, no?) are questioned when they themselves question their own leadership, they put their heads in their hands.

Happy Holidays!

2008-10-02T20:40:00.004+03:00

We're now in the midst of the holiday season in Israel. Strangely for us, it all seems to be sort of low key around here. Let me 'splain. Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur/Sukkot/Simchat Torah-Shmeni Atzeret are huge holidays. Everyone is off for RH, the entire country closes down for YK, and rumour has it that parking lots and open courtyards all over are filled with sukkahs (um, huts basically) for sale, along with all the things that go along with sukkahs (apparently, what in North America we would call xmas lights are very popular for sukkahs here). And nearly everyone is off for holidays for Chol HaMoed (the days between Sukkot and Simchat Torah).

There are sales in the markets, and signs for classes and services everywhere, but what's different is there isn't that frantic feeling of "getting everything taken care of in time" that I always felt in Vancouver. It's probably because we don't have to worry about the stores running out of kosher food! Or buying tickets for services. Here, you pay your membership fee before Rosh Hashana, and that's your "seat." But if you don't pay a membership fee, you can still go to services. Pretty much anywhere.

So we went to services at Aunt Shirley's in Haifa, and had a wonderful time. (Aunt Shirley and Morey's mum are sisters.) It was really nice to spend a holiday with family that didn't involve hundreds of dollars of plane fare, dog boarding and time off from work. It was a simple train ride. Okay, it wasn't so simple. We brought Maimo with us. Dogs are supposed to be muzzled on the train, but we don't really have a muzzle, so we faked it with a little cat collar. They called us on it, though: "Ze lo beseder." That's not okay. However, it was 10:51 and our train was leaving at 10:52, so we yelled a quick "sorry" and ran to the train. We caught it as the doors were closing.

On the way, we discovered every other dog on the train was not muzzled. On the way home from Haifa, we discovered every other dog on the train was... not muzzled. Modi'in must be hard-core because it's such a new station.

Anyway, we ate way too much food at Aunt Shirley's, met lots of people, davened (prayed) with a lovely minyan, said Tashlich (ritually casting off our sins) while overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, were woken up by a torrential downpour, got wiped up by Aunt Shirley at Scrabble, and got to visit with a couple of cousins. Ittai broke his ankle. Last time I spent any significant time with Ittai, I was in a wheelchair from spraining my ankle. I told him I guess we can't relate to each other unless one of us is on crutches.

It truly was a wonderful way to spend Rosh Hashana, but while I can't imagine spending any holidays anywhere but Israel, I missed our Vancouver Shtiebel terribly. I missed Cliff's davening, Michael's torah and shofar blowing*, our tiny Torah, the community participation and how meaningful the tefillot (prayers) are.

But still. I was in Israel for Rosh Hashana. It doesn't get any better than that.

* Here's a video of an amazing display of shofar. You truly get the sense of the "call to arms."

Shana Tova!

2008-09-28T17:14:00.002+03:00

Our first official pomegranate, rimon, in Israel! We paid for this one at the grocery, but they're growing all over Modi'in.

Ulpan was really hard this week. And we had lots of homework. And lots of things to do during the week, after ulpan. So no posts. Sorry.

However, I have been taken lots of pictures of all the beautiful flowers in our neighbourhood. Okay, not all; there are far too many. I've just gotten a snippet of what's here, and posted them to my Facebook. But you can enjoy them even without a Facebook account. Just click here.

Here's a taste:

We are off to spend Rosh Hashana with Aunt Shirley in Haifa. Because we can. And because she invited Maimo, too. Maimo's first train ride!

Wishing everyone a Shana Tova, may you have a year filled with health, happiness, success and joyous occasions!

Heinz Catch-up

2008-09-17T19:15:00.004+03:00

One of the beautiful things about living in Israel is proximity to so much family. Definitely not the case in Vancouver. Turns out, cousin Michal works in Modi'in once a week in the evening, so last night she came over for dinner. We plan on making this a fairly regular occurence. Because of the *grumble grumble* bus system, when she comes over, she can't stay later than 9pm. However, we had such a great visit last night, that I'll take frequent hour/hour and a half visits over nothing!

Now if we can just get the other ~~kids~~ cousins here.

In other news, Monday night we went to an English panel of the candidates for mayor of Modi'in. It was very interesting to witness the wheels of the political machine in Israel, and realize that politics are the same all over: Take everything every candidate says with a grain of salt, and wonder what they really mean. Although we discovered we aren't yet eligible to vote (the criteria is, you must be a resident for 6 months as of some day in October 2008. I ask you, why not just make the criteria that you must be a resident as of March 2008? Now that is very Israeli!), it was a very interesting evening, and we were very grateful for the opportunity to hear the candidates in English. Please G-d, by the next election, we'll understand their platforms in Hebrew.

In other other news, I went on a supermarket tour this afternoon! Why a supermarket tour? Because I have (half) jokingly said that that we run the risk of buying oven cleaner every time we search for fabric softener. Think about it - you go to the market to buy meat, you know what shortribs are, you know what a rib roast is. What's the Israeli equivalent? How do you say "low fat" in Hebrew? What are all the kinds of fish? What is that weird green fuzzy thing in the fruit section? Where's the buttermilk?? Elana Kideckel runs a wonderful market tour called "Supermarket Savvy" that answers these questions and more! She also includes some basic nutritional information, and includes a booklet with translations of important words, like "fat" "sodium" "cholesterol." It was so helpful, and I feel so much more comfortable with what I'm buying. And I had a couple of important questions answered - I can't have aspartame or sorbitol, very common sweetener additives. The Hebrew for aspartame and sorbitol is:

Aspartame and sorbitol.

I also met a neighbour on the tour! Although, she'll be moving to another neighbourhood soon. If you're reading this and you live in central Israel, contact Elana for a tour! It's worth it.

And to add icing on the cake, while waiting for the bus to take me to the supermarket for the tour, 5 different people stopped and asked for information - directions, where is such-and-such a street, when does the bus come, where does the bus go - and I was able to answer all of them in Hebrew AND respond to a joke the gentleman waiting with me made about all the requests for information ("Modi'in" - the name of our town means information!).

All in all, a very good day.

Next on the calendar: will our mattresses arrive tomorrow?

Shameless self-promotion

2008-09-15T18:02:00.004+03:00

Welcome to the new readers who have found us through Aish.com! We hope you enjoy the show.

For our existing readers who aren't on Facebook, and thus haven't seen my shameless self-promotion there, I had an article published on Aish.com. Please to visit and read! And hopefully, ponder.

Everything happens for a reason

2008-09-11T21:12:00.000+03:00

So we struggled with finding the right tool with which to place our mezuzot. We found a double-sided tape, and if you recall, all the mezuzot fell off.

It took a few days to find the tape we really wanted, the one we felt would be more effective before we let the salesperson misdirect us. Then it took us a few days to find out if we need to say the blessings again when re-affixing our mezuzot (the answer is yes, by the way). We got the new tape 2 days ago, got the answer to the blessing question this afternoon.

For the past few weeks, my sister has given me the blessing of Chesed by helping her with the editing of a local Rabbi`s weekly Divrei Torah (words of Torah). While in the processing of researching a particular source - Tanchumah - I find a link to a reference on the Chabad.org website. I click on the link and the page opens to...

an article entitled "Mezuzah on the Door."

What do you think the message is?

We're putting up our mezuzot tonight.

Machssomim*

2008-09-11T16:39:00.006+03:00

We live near the Green Line, and because of the placement of Highay 443, pass through a checkpoint every time we go to Jerusalem. Checkpoints aren't all the same. This one controls entry onto a highway restricted to vehicles with Israeli licence plates. There are many who believe that these roads are, in fact, racist. Nothing could be further from the truth, as any of the Arab bus drivers who regularly take us to jerusalem could tell you. But, these security measures are a necessity. Critics conveniently forget similar restrictions in other countries.

Case in point: the US response to the attack on September 11, 2001.

There were not only roadblocks set up around DC, all air traffic was rerouted away from the US, and even crossing the border by vehicle was temporarily stopped. It was only after many hours that traffic started to move again. I happened to be flying to the US two days later; the trip, which would normally take 4 hours, took 24 hours because of increased security. If the US was being attacked at the rate Israel has sustained shootings and bombings over the years, I would expect entry into America to be damn near impossible.

While real, these restrictions within and out of the territories are the direct result of terrorism. When Israel acquired the West Bank and Gaza, traffic to and from was relatively easy. I crossed the border in 1978 in minutes and there were no checkpoints anywhere. We visited Bethlehem, Jericho and Hebron and were welcomed (they wanted our tourist money, of course.)

And y'know, for all the bitching about the security fence (or whatever you want to call it), 10 years ago both Israelis AND Palestinians wanted more separation. A poll conducted in 1998 found 81 percent of the Israeli respondents and 63 percent of the Palestinians interviewed support(ed) a closed border. More importantly, both Israelis and Palestinians -- 77 percent and 65 percent, respectively -- said relations between the two peoples should be intensified in order to build support for peace. Ironically, one of the loudest opponents of a separation fence was Ariel Sharon, who was set against establishing any line that could be construed as a border.

Although living in Modi'in feels a little like being in the suburbs, we don't ever forget that we're also on the front lines.

*Checkpoint

crossposted to moreyaltman.blogspot.com

Pleased to make your refrigerator

2008-09-09T17:31:00.002+03:00

Everyone who has tried to learn another language has their major gaffe story. My favourite came from one of the aliyah lists I'm on: A woman confused the word "mishcafayim" with "michnasayim." Mishcafayim means glasses. Michnasayim means pants. She told someone, "I didn't recognize you with your michnasayim on."

Oops.

Mine today wasn't so bad. In Hebrew, there are two different words that mean "know." To know something is "yodea." To know someone is "makir."

And the word for refrigerator is "m'karer."

So, yes, I refrigerate him very well.

We interrupt these ramblings for a word of Torah

2008-09-08T17:19:00.002+03:00

As we approach the end of our annual reading of Deuteronomy, I can't help but be thankful for the relative ease of our exodus to the Promised Land compared to our ancestors: Seriously, Manna from heaven! 40 years in the desert! The Golden Calf!

But did it really happen like that?

I don't mean to sound facetious here. The Exodus, and unfortunate wanderings that followed, are easy to dismiss as brilliant 'storytelling' and nothing more. And within the recorded story, there are certainly elements that demand interpretation. The Torah was meant to be read and re-read by each generation; more importantly, it was meant to be relevant and inspirational. Sometimes, it's not the literal words that accomplish these things but the dynamic between the text and our experiences and ability to comprehend. One of the things I love is the Jewish custom of re-reading Torah portions every year.

It never ceases to amaze me how time and again, a passage I've read dozens of times can suddenly leap out at me with profound meaning and clarity. Did the words change? Did the story change? Not at all. I changed. I grew through study and gained new experiences as I've aged.

Torah interpretation also allows each generation to apply contemporary values and beliefs to the understanding of the texts. A good example of this is the phrase, "An eye for an eye" (Exodus 21:24). The rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud, recording oral tradition going back at least centuries, could not believe that the phrase was ever meant to be understood literally; the notion was abhorrent then and now. It was clear that the text referred to monetary compensation because that understanding was consistent with their values.

Perhaps the understanding was different 3,500 years ago. Perhaps it will change in the future. Neither of which is as important as how the words are understood and applied to our lives today. Each generation is obligated to address the fundamental concerns and values of its time and to struggle with the parameters of necessary and permissible change. Deuteronomy itself insists upon this: we must rely on the judges/priests/leaders of our time "even if they say that right is left and left is right" (Sifre on Parashat Shoftim). And as we read in Parashat Nitzavim, "[Torah] is not in the heavens."

Did the Exodus really happen? Perhaps not exactly as described, but then the historicity of the Bible isn't as important as its relevance and meaning. The Bible isn't a history book, nor should it ever be reduced to such a mundane purpose. It's much deeper than that.

(crossposted to moreyaltman.blogspot.com)

We learns the Hebrew

2008-09-07T16:34:00.004+03:00

Okay, we confess: we cheated. We couldn't bear the thought of getting up before 6am to ride a bus full of little schoolkids to ulpan today. Starting ulpan was stressful enough. So we took a taxi. It wasn't bad, NIS* (₪) 38, and for some reason, the driver rounded it DOWN to ₪ 35. Yes, DOWN. Maybe he felt bad for us after we told him we were going to the primary school for ulpan (Hebrew school).

First the transportation good news. Someone offered us a lift home today, right to our door. Wonderful. There is another couple in our class who drive and live right near a bus line that goes to our house. It's also very walkable from their building. We'll ~~beg~~ talk to them tomorrow about possibly carpooling. The other bit of potentially good news is our neighbourhood #2 bus stops near stairs that lead up to Rehov (street) Reuven, where the ulpan is. We'd never know that from the schedule, and looking at the map, the bus stop looks too far from Reuven to walk easily. So tomorrow, we try the #2! One bus, one route, maybe 10 minutes or so of walking (or climbing, if you want to get technical).

Ulpan was good. It started out a little chaotic, but eventually the teachers broke the class into two groups. Then our instructor had each of us give our name and tell where we're from, where we live, if we have family here. All in Hebrew, of course. Then we all had to write our little stories. Same information, plus a sentence or two about what we do for work. That was fun. I write just fine, but I don't know how to spell anything. Hebrew is very logical, so I think it's a relatively easy language to learn, but spelling is a different story all together. There are so many ways to indicate the "ah" sound, two letters for "v", two letters for "k", two letters for "s", two letters for "t" - there are endless possibilities for some words! Somehow, the teacher understood my story.

At 10:30 she explained that would normally be our break time, but today, we could go home. Since everything is stone and marble, every sound echoes, so sometimes it's a little hard to hear. And even though our teacher promised to speak slowly, sometimes she would go too fast for me. And everything is "rak Ivrit" (only Hebrew), no English allowed. But we got through it. Ultimately, the only mishap of the day was trying to find the ladies room in the boys yeshiva. We had permission to use the bathroom in the administrative office, so I asked someone to show me where the "sherutim" (bathrooms) are. I went through the door I was shown and saw a sink and two completely enclosed stalls (which is typical here). There was a third door with a sign on it.

However, it wasn't until I came out of one of the enclosed stalls that I realized the sign on the third door said "nashim" (women). When I left through the main door, I looked back at it and saw the sign that said "gever/nashim" (men/women). Obviously, the two stalls were for the men. Weird setup. Thank G-d, no one came in while I was in the stall.

I wondered why the seat was up...

Tomorrow: the bus!

*NIS = Israeli New Shekel (₪), the currency here. Yes, it should be INS. But that has bad connotations to American immigrants.

Superstitious minds

2008-09-04T10:49:00.003+03:00

It's a good thing that Jews aren't superstitious, and don't believe in omens*. Our doorframes are metal, so we bought some double-sided tape to hang all our mezuzot**. I thought we should get something thick and "poufy" (think 3M), but the store owner said the thin, double-sided mounting tape is stronger and better. It was even cheaper!

So we took his advice, bought the thin tape, and with great enthusiasm, said the blessing on hanging mezuzot and placed them on all our doorframes in our home (except the bathrooms).

And within a couple of hours, every single one fell off.

* Well, we're not supposed to, anyway. Poo poo poo, let me get my red bendel, k'nayn ahora, where's my chamsa?

**I don't know how to translate that. A mezuzah is a small, cigar-shaped box attached to the doorframe of a Jewish home, that contains a scroll. On the scroll is written a portion of the Torah, Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and 11:13-21, that contains the words of the Sh'ma which observant Jews recite 3 times a day. The mezuzah is placed in keeping with the commandment in the Sh'ma to "place these words on the door of your house..."

Ehhhhhh, ech omrim,* "Charlie Foxtrot?"

2008-08-31T12:44:00.005+03:00

So we finally got news of our ulpan (Hebrew classes) and when it starts and where it is. It starts next week, and it's in a school in the neighbourhood of Buchman**.

Alllllll the way on the other side of Modi'in.

Now, you may have heard that the buses in Modi'in bite the big one. This is even more true if you live in the northwest of Modi'in and need to get to Buchman in the south. There is no bus that goes from here to there ("you can't get there from here"). To get to ulpan we would have to take a #1 to some point in town, then walk to a #3 bus stop. And assuming we wouldn't have to wait too long for the #3 (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), we would still have what looks to be about a 20-minute walk from the #3 drop off to the school where the ulpan is being held. And remember, Connex doesn't do transfers, so we're talking 8 bus tickets a day for the two of us. Every day. For the pleasure of about an hour-and-a-half trip each way. To go maybe 5 kilometres.

But see, I just interrupted myself to double-check the Connex website and discovered there is no #3 that would get us to the school on time! We'd have to either take the 5:45am or the 8:25am. Except class starts at 8:30am. So rantus interruptus; I have to interrupt my rant with a new improved rant.

:sigh:

We were told the reason classes are being held in Buchman is because there is free space at the school. That's fine. But then, provide transportation. Most of us new olim (immigrants) don't have cars. And the Ministry of Absorption knows that. The Ministry also knows how bad the buses are. We were told there's are new buses for the schoolchildren, particularly the #10. That's great, the #10 stops near our house and goes right to the school. Except the #10 runs only once at 7am (and how, exactly, do we get home?) AND the Ministry of Education has not agreed yet that we adults can ride the schoolkids' buses.

Which actually is fine by me. It's hard enough when I have to go through each day speaking like a 5 year old and dealing with the frustrations of not being understood, and not knowing enough to make myself understood. It's embarrassing enough to stand in the middle of a store playing charades trying to get a store clerk to understand that I need a long shower curtain rod because I have a very long bathtub space. Do I really need to have what's left of my dignity buried under some kid's Dora the Explorer backpack by being the only adults on a children's schoolbus? No thank you. I love kids. I don't want to ride on a schoolbus with them.

We've asked the Ministry to compile a list of everyone in our neighbourhood who is registered for ulpan. Maybe someone has a car, and we can all carpool and share gas costs. Maybe there's enough of us to make it worthwhile for Connex to add another bus for the ulpan students. Maybe there's enough of us over here to make it affordable to split a taxi van; maybe the Ministry will arrange a van. Maybe maybe maybe.

All I know is trying to learn a new language as an adult, and living in a country where you don't speak the language is stressful enough. We don't need merely getting to the classes to be anxiety-inducing as well.

*ech omrim = "how do you say"
** Buchman is pronounced, "booochman" with a "ch" like "l'chaim!"

It's sugar time!

2008-08-27T11:13:00.002+03:00

Sugar. Israelis love it. Especially in their cereal. And they don't mind paying the equivalent of about $5 or $6 for a small box of it to kick off their morning.

I, on the other hand, don't do well with sugar. Sugar and I haven't gotten along well since our big row 20 years ago, where we didn't speak to each other at all for 4 months. Gradually, little by little, I let sugar back in, but for the most part, we only see each other on Shabbat. Occasionally, sugar drops by for a surprise visit during the week, but I try not to let it happen too often. I don't want sugar to get any ideas.

But now, in my quest for an Israeli breakfast cereal that a) doesn't break the bank, and b) isn't granola, sugar has practically packed a bag and moved in. I cannot get over the amount of sugar that is in every single cereal. And not just plain sugar - oh no, plain sugar isn't enough. The innocent looking cinnamon wheat cereal I bought has chocolate in it! The even more innocent looking puffed something cereal I bought next? Chocolate! For cryin' out loud, people! No wonder Israelis are always screaming at each other; everyone's on a flippin' sugar high.

For various reasons, I need to start my day with a benign bowl of something oat-y. For obvious reasons, I don't want to start my day with a bowl of hot oatmeal (just the perfect thing for a 35-degree day!). For fiscal reasons, I don't want to go to the store that specializes in American products and pay nis 28 (about $8 or so) for a box of plain Cheerios.

A big thing here is find people who are moving to Israel and try to buy space on their lift for a package or two. Or sometimes a refridgerator. Maybe I should buy some space for a couple of Costco boxes of Cheerios.

Help! I'm in Har Nof and I can't get out!

2008-08-25T14:38:00.007+03:00

(another in the ongoing series of "How the bus companies hate me")

I'm going to go backwards here and start with a second story. Tomorrow, bli neder (without a vow, ie, I'm not promising), I'll post the first story. However, the second story does require some first story information. Because of a lesson learned from the first story, I gave myself an hour to get from the neighbourhood of Har Nof to the Tachana Mercazit (Central Bus Station or "CBS"). It takes 20 minutes or so by bus. It takes 45 minutes to walk. Now you have the necessary information.

My sister Pamela had invited me to a women's concert last week at Neve Yerushalayim, a seminary in Har Nof. It was supposed to end at 10:30pm, but I knew I'd have to leave early to get to the CBS in time to catch the last bus to Modi'in, which leaves at 11:00pm. It was a wonderful concert, and I was having a great time, but despite that, when my phone alarm vibrated at 10pm, I whispered "goodbye," exchanged quick hugs and hightailed it out of there. I quickly found someone who could lead me out of Neve, since I was a little turned around, and made it to the bus stop.

The woman who helped me and I chatted for a bit about the concert while we waited for our respective buses. She offered me a ride if she took a cab, but the taxi that stopped wanted too much. Eventually, her bus came, and at the same time, my bus - the 15 - arrived. I hopped on the bus, and for some reason, decided to ask the bus driver if he went to the CBS. Even though I know the 15 goes to the CBS.

Me: "Ata holech l'tachana mercazit?" (Do you go to the CBS?)*
Driver: "no."
Me: "LO?" (no)
Dr: "11 or 15"
Me: "Aval ata hachamesh esrai!" (but you the 15)**
Dr: "I let off, I don't pick up. You need the bus building, not the bus sign."***

* Feel free to correct my Hebrew. It's a constant learning process.
** Yes, the driver was speaking English and I was speaking Hebrew. Eventually I realized this, and started speaking English.
*** In some places, the buses only drop people off. In this case, there was a bus shelter where you stand to get the pick-up bus, and a little past the shelter is a pole with a bus sign on it. That's where he stops to drop off. I don't understand it either.

So he lets me off at the next stop, where I go to the shelter - which claims to be a 15 pickup stop - and wait.

And wait. And wait. After a few minutes, quite strangely, the bus that picked up the woman who helped me earlier drove by again. With the woman still on the bus. Considering she was going farther than I needed to, I'm not sure who was worse off.

Eventually, an 11 comes by. I get on it, and double-check that this bus is going to the CBS. I ask what I think is a "yes or no" question, in Hebrew, and he gives me some long answer.

What I asked: "Ata holech l'tachana mercazit?"
What I expected: "Ken" (yes)
What I got: lots of words that probably translated into something like, "I eventually will arrive at the location you requested, however before I can do that, I have to drive all over the entire city of Jerusalem, getting stuck in small alleys, stopping to yell at people who are walking in the middle of these small alleys, while stopping for a smoke and a coffee, all to make sure you go sufficiently insane and have a meltdown in the middle of some unknown neighbourhood."

Yep. I'm sure that's what he was saying.

I responded, "Slicha?" (excuse me?)

And 3 English speakers on the bus yelled, "Yes. He goes to the CBS."

I wound up sitting behind someone who was wearing a Pacific Northwest NCSY sweatshirt, so I had to ask her if she was from Vancouver. Turns out she is, and we had a lovely chat while we both missed our 11:00pm buses. I arrived at the CBS and tore through the underground tunnel, running across the path between the main roads, and arrived to see:

Nothing.

I got to the stop at 11:06. After leaving the concert at 10. Had I walked, I would have been miserable, but I would have made my bus. Thank G-d I have a sister who lives in Jerusalem, and has a spare bed, and loves me. I waited for her to arrive at the CBS while trying to avoid thinking about how I missed the last performer for nothing, and she and I walked back to her lovely neighbourhood of Nachla'ot, bought a couple of beers (non-twistoffs which I opened without an opener. My teenage years weren't totally devoid of valuable lessons, thankyewverymuch.) and sat in a park chattering away. Eventually wound up hanging out with some of the artists who performed that night at Neve. Had a great time, stayed up too late, was grateful for my sister and her futon and her friends, got up early and went to catch the 10:15am bus home.

Except when I got to the CBS at 10:13, there was no bus...

Your opinion is requested

2008-08-25T13:56:00.002+03:00

Oh, I know you're desperate for more "I hate the bus system" stories. Don't worry, I have more, but I thought for a change of pace, I'd ask for your opinions. We have a lovely white wall unit. It comes with knobs that are white and sort of disappear into the unit, making it look smooth and unified. I happen to have a handful of brushed nickel doorknobs that I thought might look lovely on the wall unit doors.

So I tried both. I can't make up my mind. On the one hand, I like the unified, smooth look of the "disappeared" doorknobs. On the other, the shiny knobs give the unit a more sophisticated, less Ikea look.

What do you think? Feel free to post your opinion in the comments or email me.

With white knobs

With silver knobs

And now, a word from Morey

2008-08-22T12:50:00.001+03:00

I was asked the other day how it felt to be living in, as my friend put it, "the homeland." Not to sound facetious, but it feels like home. Seriously. We were both remarking the other day how oddly normal everything seems. Israel is an fascinating mix of European, Middle Eastern and American sensibilities which somehow matches our personal inclinations. Israel is also a place of contradictions, both wondrous and difficult. There's no question that a social imbalance exists; we're living in a modern Israeli city being built and maintained by essentially by Arab and foreign labour.

Yet, the other day the most interesting thing happened. I was on my regular bus to the mall. The driver was a charming Arab woman (try to find a female bus driver in any Arab country). We took on a couple of passengers who sat at the front next to me; they looked like a middle aged mother and her 20-something son. A few minutes later the driver spotted an elderly Arab woman in traditional dress walking with some difficilty in the midday-heat, stopped the bus and beckoned her to board (for a free ride - an action I completely support). The 20-something guy leaned toward the driver and asked, "At Aravi?" (Are you Arab?). She responded yes, and then they all began babbling away in Arabic. As the old lady joined in, I looked around and realized that I was the only Jew on this bus in Modi'in, the modern, Jewish city. Fantastic!

Oh, Stuff, how we have missed you

2008-08-21T09:55:00.002+03:00

(Mysteriously, we started having internet problems a few days ago. 012 thinks it might be the modem - HOT's problem - and HOT thinks it's the connection - 012's problem. We have very intermittent connections, hence the lack of blog entries. I wrote this a few days ago and have been trying to post it since.)

We have furniture! We have stuff! As evidenced by my last post, of course. I realize I posted about all the packing paper before posting that we had anything to unpack. It's been so nice getting re-acquainted with our stuff. It was also very nice to realize how few boxes we actually have. We got rid of a lot of stuff in Vancouver. There are still the odd item here and there that we realize could have been left behind, but for the most part? We done good.

Israeli apartments don't have closets, so figuring out where to put everything is a bit of a challenge. We'll certainly have to buy an aron (wardrobe) or two, we just need to figure out how many and what size. And erm, bookshelves. If you go through the pictures linked below, you'll see alllll the boxes of books.

We're really pleased how wonderful our furniture looks in our new apartment. I was afraid the grey couch and chair would get kind of lost against the white walls and beige floor, but the walls are winter white, with blue undertones, so it brings out the blue undertone in the grey furniture and really makes it pop. And our artwork is full of primary colours* which just look brilliant against the very white walls. I'm very excited to see it all hung.

Morey's been extremely happy to use real plates and bowls again; I'm happy not to be using anything disposable. Turns out our Presidents Choice water filter pitcher filters out the minerally taste in the water just fine. I don't mind the taste of the tap water, and I'd prefer the healthy minerals in my water, but Morey doesn't like the taste. So ice cubes and coffee get the filtered water, my water bottle gets the tap. Nice compromise.

Speaking of water, we bought new dairy pots before we left Vancouver, so now we have to tovel (ritually immerse) them. Certain new dishes and cookware needs to be immersed in a mikvah (ritual bath). In Vancouver, you had to make an appointment, and use the same mikvah that men and women use. In Modi'in, you go to the mikvah around the corner any time of day or night and use the small mikvah that is just for dishes. However, in Vancouver, we had a car that we could carry our dishes in. In Modi'in, we have to carry them up the long, steep hill.

We don't have use of the storage room for the apartment - the landlord uses it - so we have to figure out where to put the suitcase and all our Passover dishes, but we'll figure that out. And we still need a bed. It's reeeeeaally hard to buy a mattress!! If anyone has any suggestions, hints or tips, please let us know. If you bought a mattress (in Israel, please: different sizes/brands/materials here) and love it, please let us know what you bought and where you bought it. Seriously, we're stumped. And sleeping on couch cushions.

Enjoy the "in between" pictures of apartment (scroll past the empty apartment pictures). Phase I was moving in empty, phase II is "the lift just arrived." Phase III, please G-d, will be everything's unpacked and put away and looking lovely!

*I noticed this a while ago - I'm attracted to colours and design in a piece of art, but if I don't love the colours, I won't like the art, no matter how beautiful. And nearly all the very varied, unique pieces of art that I've picked out are in primary colours.