tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43054536166673641102024-03-20T14:00:19.702+02:00Libbie in the LandLibbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-62746095754328681952010-05-30T15:26:00.005+03:002010-05-30T16:34:51.196+03:00Mysterious page in today's newspaperAt first glance it looks like an ad, but it couldn't be. (for those who don't know, Israelis are forbidden to enter Syria, so there's no chance an Israeli newspaper could or would advertise tourism to Syria)<br />So what is this?<br /><br />Feel free to vote or add your own suggestions:<br />1) An ad for advertising space (this is how desperate we've become)<br />2) Left-wing propoganda<br />3) Two Israelis made a bet in which the loser had to place a funny ad<br /><br />other ideas... ?!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtDrxjGPisPqdBp1R5eR5BL-sBMGkQ7ombpAVDAZlvXAFz32W9SUUjkTRRNf3vdHVoqBF-5eO-U7PKUAxZO-ULHZO40MMc59mDxMtPcN42fSOzhNRzCBoV0ZwWLKg-R5JOXQo0uPamI4/s1600/syria+pic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtDrxjGPisPqdBp1R5eR5BL-sBMGkQ7ombpAVDAZlvXAFz32W9SUUjkTRRNf3vdHVoqBF-5eO-U7PKUAxZO-ULHZO40MMc59mDxMtPcN42fSOzhNRzCBoV0ZwWLKg-R5JOXQo0uPamI4/s320/syria+pic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477038683914416034" /></a>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-646630339000109192010-05-14T12:41:00.003+03:002010-05-14T12:57:38.665+03:00our Birthright and our freedom...Last night I saw my dear childhood friend Jackie who is here on a Birthright trip. It felt like pure happiness just to stand next to her. We went to a classy bar-restaurant in the Tel Aviv port where we ate at the bar and the bartender spoiled us with free drinks to "start us off on the right foot" throughout the night. We were seated next to three non-Jewish Irish businessmen who work at Intel here and it was interesting to hear their perspectives about living in Israel. What was funny and frustrating about my time with Jackie was that she had a curfew - the Birthright participants were restricted to staying within the Tel Aviv port area, and they were threatened with being back at the bus by midnight on the dot (or else). Being 26 years old and with high-powered New York City careers, the participants were not amused by these rules to say the least. At the end of the night when I walked Jackie and her friends back to the bus, and I saw their typically American-anal counselors with name tags around their neck freaking out about how so-and-so was missing and the bus was going to leave without them, I just had to laugh to myself. Here was a group of adults, my age, who were being guarded like a bunch of prisoners that if let out of sight for a minute something terrible would happen -- while Israeli children are let loose to run wild across the country as they please. I have taken long walks through Tel Aviv and seen ten-year-olds beside me the whole way, unsupervised and unfazed. It's just funny how different the American and Israeli perceptions are of "what's safe" in Israel. But I understand Birthright. What they are doing is incredibly important, and Gd forbid the minute one bad thing happens to a Birthright participant, their reputation will be forever tarnished. And we can't afford to let that happen. So in a way I respect and accept Birthright's unbelievably anal rules- but as I walked away from my peers boarding that Birthright bus, I couldn't help but think to myself how grateful I was to be walking free through the Tel Aviv streets.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-56961622507425883162010-05-01T17:50:00.003+03:002010-05-02T14:28:26.784+03:00געגועיםNo matter how far away the world is<br />or how much we try to forget<br />we'll always dream at night<br />and the past stays alive<br />and the people, dead or alive,<br />will never die<br />the world only gets bigger and bigger<br />and the wars we fight<br />just come closer and closer to our home.<br /><br />Here in Israel<br />everything feels normal, if I let it<br />the sand of the beach is infinite<br />no matter how many thousands of bodies walk off with it<br />it doesn't recede one inch<br />and we are confident in everything we do here<br />so confident, <br />that even our small lies aren't lying, <br />it's how we socialize<br />it's the difference between life and a game.<br /><br />And sometimes when I sleep in Israel<br />I get to go back<br />I get to be with my loved, loved friends<br />who feel like sisters I forgot I had <br />forgot to call<br />and I forgot how good it feels,<br />until I wake up<br />and then it's like I'm here, and everything seems normal,<br />until I remember I left my stomach <br />still digesting dinner at the kitchen table in Boston<br />and the highways run through my mind<br />like they'll never be forgotten,<br />like I'll never leave them<br />even as I sit here on the אדמה of the holiest place on our planet<br />I'm still riding the border of North America<br />and even as I'm being sung to in the holiest language of our history<br />I'm hearing my past<br />in my ankles and my elbows, aching up my back<br />in a whisper to me<br />where are you<br />where are you supposed to be<br />whose land is this really.<br /><br />What's real suddenly seems so simple.<br />I miss my friends.<br /><br />My friends, my friends, my friends.<br /><br />And I don't know what's worse;<br />that none of you Israelis know how it feels,<br />or that none of my friends do,<br />or that there's no one place to be<br />to have everything you love all at once.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-5001358081634859422010-04-29T14:20:00.008+03:002010-04-29T14:46:12.714+03:00A question only an Israeli Jew would poseWell I started up quite the thunderstorm at work today. <br /><br />In my morning email I received the heartbreaking news that a close family friend (a girl I've known my whole life) has decided to raise her children Christian with her newly-engaged pastor fiance. The family is a mess, and I immediately felt sick to my stomach.<br /><br />I shared the news with my friends at work, and one of them proposed a question to me. (Apparently, this is a common 'would-you-rather' that Israelis provoke one another with): Would you rather your child tell you that they're gay, that they've decided to become ultra-religious, or that they're marrying a non-Jew? <br /><br />I almost laughed I thought the question was so ridiculous. OBVIOUSLY, marrying a non-Jew was the worst news a Jewish parent could hear from their child.<br />My response ignited a passionate tirade from another co-worker whom i adore dearly but i'm not gonna lie, she can be a bit intimidating on her soapbox :-) she challenged me with this question: what's more important, that your child be a good person or a believing Jew? she went on that this is exactly the problem today with the Diasporan Jews - that we still have the "ghetto" mentality. Not enough Jews in America think like the 'new, strong/Israeli Jew', where being confident in the Jewish people and focusing on being a good person and fulfilling one's individual potential are the primary values, and not merely blind survival. She said as long as Jews in the Diaspora think like an endangered species, we'll continue to be one. <br /><br />I see her point (obviously) and she makes good, logical points (obviously) but -- as she herself pointed out to me -- she can only make this argument BECAUSE she is Israeli. Israelis think about the problem of Jewish continuity with a security blanket wrapped around their mind. They grew up in Israel, surrounded by Jews, and have no idea what it's like to grow up in the Diaspora.<br /><br />Maybe shes right, that American Jews do think too much with a ghetto mentality, and maybe we do worry too much about survival rather than living life for life's sake. BUT - we are aware of the reality of the 'Jewish situation' in a way that most Israelis simply do not feel. (and this is not in response to anything my co-worker said, but I would like to now share my own thoughts). Jewish continuity is not a joke. The assimilation statistics are real. Here are the latest stats from the World Jewish Population site, just to back up my point:<br /><br />"The worldwide Jewish population is 13.3 million Jews. Jewish population growth worldwide is close to zero percent. <br /><br />Approximately 37% of worldwide Jewry lives in Israel. Israel's Jewish population rose by 1.6% the past year, while the Diaspora population dropped by 0.5%.<br /><br />One study predicted that in the next 80 years America's Jewish population would decline by one-third to 3.8 million if current fertility rates and migration patterns continue[3]."<br /><br />Not to mention the intermarriage rate in America fluctuates somewhere around 50%.<br /><br />So while I agree that 'being a good person' if of COURSE a paramount value, there is good reason behind the 'ghetto mentality' that preoccupies so many Diasporan Jews. <br /><br />None of us know for sure why the Jewish people continue to exist, after 3,000 years of persecution. Is it because Gd is watching over his chosen people? Is it a miracle? Is it sheer chance? Or is it because so many Jews worried about and made our continued presence on earth the priority?<br /><br />We don't know. And we don't know what our future will be either - whether Israel's Jewish population will continue to grow to match the disappearing Diasporan population, or whether Gd forbid something terrible will happen to Israel and its population, or whether there will be a sudden revolution in the Diasporan Jewish population. What seems most likely of course is that the Jews will continue to populate the planet and continue to be persecuted. <br /><br />So how should we think about those Jews that choose to intermarry/abandon the Jewish faith? In my opinion, it's all a matter of your frame of reference. It's good that there are Israelis who think the way my co-workers do, but it's also necessary that there are Diasporan Jews who consider our continuity our paramount value.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-30125856611565615452010-04-24T18:38:00.002+03:002010-04-24T18:55:49.313+03:00Happy Birthday Israel - and 1-year Aliyah to me!Summer is creeping into Tel Aviv and I'm loving it.<br />This Monday, April 26 marks the 1-year (Western-calendar) anniversary of my aliyah. On the Jewish calendar it happened on erev Yom Hazikaron last week, but I'm going to celebrate it by the American calendar with a few good friends and drinks. I can't believe it's been one year. So much has happened that it feels like the longest year of my life, and yet I remember everything so vividly, it can hardly seem like a year ago. But it was a wonderful year.<br />This past week we celebrated Yom Ha'atzmaut, Israel's Independence Day - the 62nd year of the modern Jewish state. I think Yom haatzmaut is my favorite holiday - it's better even than my own birthday. Everyone's so happy and celebratory and patriotic and united - it really feels like the most holy day of the year in that way. Also I love the fact that basically nothing is illegal on Yom Haatzmaut - you can play music as loud as you want as late as you want and nobody can do anything about it. the parties are crazy. the streets are destroyed with garbage. and it seems every other building's rooftop is flashing with lights and dj's and dancers. There's simply no other night of the year that can compare!<br />I've learned many things about Israel and Israelis this year - most of them positive. But I do want to take a minute to note something new that I discovered recently about Israelis - to my horror - that I never knew before. Israelis (generally speaking of course) are seriously uneducated about STD's. It's crazy. Israelis just don't know much about them. Many schools (and of course the religious ones) don't teach sex ed. I guess the planners of Israeli education and society think they have bigger priorities than gonorrhea and chlamydia. But, it's really dangerous, because Israelis just don't know about these realities and the dangers of them - they think the only purpose of a condom is to prevent HIV/AIDS and pregnancy. And I've been taking a poll of my Israeli friends, and most of them tell me, most of the time, that they and their friends don't use condoms. Practically everyone's on the Pill and has been tested for AIDS, so what's the point of a condom? it's almost expected not to use one. and Israeli men can be aggressively antagonistic towards using one. But take for example genital herpes - there is no cure for genital herpes, and it can be a serious disease - women with herpes can't have a vaginal birth, for example. It's not a joke. And yet when I've asked my Israeli friends 'aren't you concerned about getting an STD like genital herpes' they say something to the effect of, well a lot of people have herpes, it's not a big deal. IMAGINE saying something like that to an American. It's just a completely different reaction. I was thinking about it and I realize that baby-making is one of the top priorities of Israeli society, so maybe it's not that shocking that condoms aren't as much of a given as they are in America. But as a friend of mine pointed out, if the country were under attack and the men had to go to war and half of them had herpes, we wouldn't be much of a fighting army. So maybe it is time for Israel to catch up with the Western world in this respect - put sex ed in school!!!<br />Thank you :-) That's enough of my tirade on that subject. <br />On a side note, hip-hop star Rihanna is coming to perform in Israel in May and the only way to get tickets to the concert is by volunteering 4 hours of community service. It's an awesome project that they set up, and I'd be all for it - except all the community service interferes with my work schedule. I'm hoping they'll set up opportunities in Tel Aviv on a weekend so I'll be able to get tickets... fingers crossed...Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-67198005718396671432010-03-30T22:09:00.003+03:002010-03-30T22:44:56.059+03:00Chag Pesach SameachWow - it just dawned on me that it's been over a month since I updated my blog. (well, at least verbally). Many posts have been written in my head but sadly never made it to the keys. That's what happens when I feel like I'm always tired, I guess.<br />My father and stepmother have come and gone, in an incredible 2-week visit, deserving of its own post. Suffice to say for now that it was wonderful and comforting in a heartbreaking way to have them here. There's no better feeling than suddenly seeing your family on the familiar Tel Aviv streets - a shocking juxtaposition of the most familiar thing in the world in the most out-of-place setting. That is the stuff tears of joy are made out of. We spent an incredible Shabbat sight-seeing in the Golan (I posted pictures) and another Shabbat relaxing in Tel Aviv with friends. I feel like every time a loved one departs Israel my heart breaks a tiny bit, and each time Tzahi slowly picks me up and puts me back together. And yet every time I see another familiar loved face arrive in Israel, my heart surges in strength. It's a continual evolution; I hope Tzahi doesn't get tired of it! :-)<br />But in this post I want to digest the scene I just departed from - the Passover seder with Tzahi's family in Jerusalem. It was simply delightful. First of all, it was one of my rare tastes of Jerusalem from a secular point of view. Most of my visits to Jeursalem are spent with my religious friends who live there, and I don't often see the secular side of the city. Tzahi's grandparents - the grandmother immigrated from Romania and the grandfather from Turkey - live in a new housing development at the top of one of the highest hills in the city, which of course boasts a picture-perfect view both day and night. With the scenic location, however, comes cold winds. I would not want to live in Jerusalem - I didn't leave Boston to live anywhere less warm than Tel Aviv! We were a group of 18 people and I can honestly say I truly enjoyed the company of each and every one of them. The seder was not very different from most seders I've been to - the exception being the rice and hummus on the table, since their tradition allows for kitniyot. Tzahi brought his guitar and we sang songs around the table for hours. As the 20 bottles of wine started to take their toll on us, we cleared out the long table and began setting up camp in the living room. It was like a kibbutz, I'll tell you. Tzahi's sister and fiance were already falling asleep on the blow-up mattress, I was ready to pass out on my own portable mattress, while the grandfather and great-grandfather were engaged in a conversation on the couch beside me, and the 2-year-old girl wandered from lap to lap, too stimulated by all the action to go to sleep. Slowly slowly enough makeshift beds were made and we turned off the lights, and the group of us fell asleep together, like I did in summer camp as a girl. It felt disconcerting at first, and then comforting. That was until 7am when the sun and the two-year-old rose up and my hopes for continued sleep were permanently dashed. but that's ok. I had a chance for an afternoon nap after our tiyul to the old city and the kotel after lunch. <br />Like most of my experiences here in Israel, the language barrier runs through everything. It is everywhere, inescapable. It's like I have one leg, one arm, and one half of my face in the room, and the other half of my body caught in the door. I am a part of some conversations and not others. I can understand some members of the family and not so much others. When I was trying to get ready for bed and everyone was chattering away around me, I focused on reading my book. Tzahi's cousin asked me how I could concentrate on reading with all the noise, and I told her, it's hebrew. It takes effort to understand. If I want, I can turn off my head and not understand a word of it. I think that surprised Tzahi. But it's true. And the constant translation. Constant, constant, constant. Both my asking Tzahi and him asking me - and so many words turn into a discussion. Like how do you define what "literally" means? or "impact" or "buffalo soldier" or "jamming" or so many other words - it's just endless. Until either Tzahi or myself becomes fluent in the other's langugage, the translation discussions will be endless. Most of the time, it's easier just to do the fake smile. I had a talk with my friend Aliza about this, because she's American and over time became fluent in Hebrew. She told me the "fake smile" is a stage you go through in the process of becoming fluent, and I'll get past it in about another year or so. But it's an inevitable stage of the process. It's the point you reach when you can't ask everyone to translate every word they're saying - it's simply too tiring. and you can basically follow the conversation, albeit four seconds behind. So when the group bursts into laughter, you do too. You'll get there eventually, she tells me. <br />Hanging out with Aliza I realized I almost never hang out with Americans anymore. I guess I got into the habit because I wanted to surround myself with Israelis to acclimate and immerse in Hebrew. But then when I was hanging out with a group of Americans the other day, and realized how comforting and enjoyable and EASY it was, and that I find their jokes funny and vice versa, I realized I really miss this. I miss being around Americans. I need to do it more. It's good for my soul. So that's one of my new resolutions - to find the right balance of time with Americans and Israelis. I really am split down the middle. <br />After having gone with Tzahi to his office holiday party where they had a stand up comedian perform, I know that will be the ultimate milestone. The day I can attend an Israeli comedy show is truly the day I'll be a fluent Hebrew speaker. Until then, I can always try to laugh at myself :-)Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-617179318184875472010-02-20T18:08:00.002+02:002010-02-20T18:24:02.516+02:00Real job, real lifeSo what people call "the honeymoon of aliyah" must have definitely come to an end for me. <br />For the first time since my aliyah, it really feels like real life here. And I definitely attribute that to the start of my first real job in Israel.<br />And I feel very lucky. Even though it's a new stage of exhaustion, compared to many other olim I found a very good job within a relatively short period of time. I'm working 15 minutes from my house, with great people, in an atmosphere that allows me to both learn Hebrew and perform in English. So despite all the challenges, I am trying to focus on my gratefulness. <br />But challenging it certainly is. For example, staff meetings. While everyone in my office is extremely accomodating to my language barrier, it simply makes sense - and is most effective business-wise - to conduct staff meetings in everyone's mother tongue, Hebrew. For me I also wanted to participate in Hebrew meetings to help me learn. And I've been able to be a part of the conversation, here and there. But it's becoming apparent to me that it's a serious handicap. Missing one word can make all the difference in misunderstanding someone's intent. So I have to be careful. But little by little, I'm grasping the whole picture of my new company, and slowly starting to make the contribution that I aspire to make. <br />When I'm not coming home at 8pm and crashing nearly immediately, I've been enjoying this beautiful rare Tel Aviv winter. It's the warmest winter in 16 years they're saying. Every Shabbat for the past 3 Shabbatot have been beach days. I mean, literally beach days. Children playing naked on the sand, jet skis and sailboats trailing the horizon, tourists packing the boardwalk eating ice cream and crowding around street performers. I just returned from the beach now and feel really relaxed. The sun has a wonderful effect that I was painfully lacking all those winters in Boston and Montreal. I have said it many times and I'll continue to say it: If for nothing else, the weather is worth aliyah. You simply don't get better weather than Tel Aviv!<br />I hope it holds up to the coming week, when my dad and stepmom arrive. If for nobody else, I want them to enjoy this wonderful relief from the Boston temperatures. But I know even at its potential worst Tel Aviv will still be a welcome respite. <br />In other news, it seems to be engagement season... my sister Rachel just got engaged, as well as 2 close girl friends of mine. It's so exciting!!! There's no happier feeling. Just waiting for her to set a date and then I'll be counting down to my next America trip... this time with the Israeli boyfriend! :-) (who's never been to the USA before, so it will be especially exciting)<br /><br />So now I'm a real Israeli with a real job and a real routine and a real salary... with commitment comes legitimacy as they say. Even though I am definitely going through a learning curve, every day that I'm on the job I think to myself: this is helping me cement more and more my successful future in Israel. And that's the best motivation there is.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-8434472508386128502010-01-30T23:09:00.002+02:002010-01-31T00:04:01.219+02:00In the Tel Aviv safari, up close & personal<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-efc2dc0c17f7cd20 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="efc2dc0c17f7cd20"></OBJECT>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-18819072573621170482010-01-27T20:44:00.008+02:002010-01-27T23:06:40.422+02:00Best first-day-of-work everI just had the most wonderful day. The timing of my new job couldn't have been more perfect -- the management had planned for today a staff-wide retreat to the north in honor of Tu B'Shvat, and I was invited to come along and get to know everyone before my first day at the office next week. The Tel Aviv office crammed into one car and we trekked north to meet the Kiryat Shmona office at a tree-planting site organized by Keren Kayemet Yisrael. There were 17 of us in total (I the only American) and it was my first time meeting everyone. It was a little nerve-racking at first with the language challenge, but I quickly realized that all my fellow co-workers were genuinely friendly, down-to-earth people who truly made an effort to make me feel part of the team. And it felt great to dig my fingers into the earth, smelling the familiar smell of moist dirt, planting a plant for the first time in I can't even remember how long. We split into two teams and participated in various challenges throughout the day. After the tree-planting we drove up to a magnificent view of northern Israel, above the border village of Metula. I had never been to Metula before and was shocked at how it literally sat along the border with Lebanon. From our high look-out point, the landscape at first appeared as a seamless expanse of beautiful green hills and majestic mountains. I assumed Lebanon was off in the distance. But as my eyes focused, I realized that everything I was looking at WAS Lebanon - the border was a mere fence right beneath me kissing the backs of the houses of Metula, and everything beyond was 'another land'. From our vantage point the fence was hardly visible and it was hard to cement mentally that concept of division from the aesthetically harmonious landscape. The most breathtaking part of the view was the Hermon - the tallest mountain in Israel, 3% of which is Israeli and 97% of which is Lebanese - which was whitewashed with snow. The snow looked so thick and creamy it was almost like you could imagine taking a teaspoon and dipping the cream off the top of the mountain. What was so incredible about it was that the whole view before us was lavishly green - green hills, green trees, green everywhere - and as you followed the green with your eyes up the mountain, at a certain point it just stops and turns to snow. The snowy cap literally looks out over kilometers of palm trees. It's such a beautiful paradoxical image. I had never before been that close to the Hermon, and none of us could stop staring at it. We learned a lot of interesting history about the area. For example, I never knew that when Israel pulled out of Lebanon in 2000, there were many Lebanese who had previously cooperated with Israel and worked doing various jobs in Metula, and when the surprise pullout took place and Israel locked down the gates, these Lebanese workers were desperate to cross the fence and return to their families before Hezbollah would shoot them down for having cooperated with the Israelis. Like my boss said, Israel is full of many sad and happy stories. From there we traveled to Nahal Ayun - a nature hike famous for its grand waterfalls. The hike took about 2 hours and along the way we stopped for a few team challenges, like skipping stones and racing each other and getting as close as we dared into the spray of the largest waterfall. Some of the most rare Israeli flowers were pointed out to me along the way. The hike concluded with turkish coffee brewed out of a backpack one of my co-workers carried along the way. From Nahal Ayun we traveled to Kiryat Shmona to the company's north office, which is really situated inside a small house on a moshav. It also moonlights as a tzimmur (an Israeli version of a b&b). Being one of the new people, I partook in the tradition of a walk along the river that runs behind the office. To get there my boss and the other new girl and I crunched our way through the deep underbrush of dark dried leaves alongside an orange orchard. The oranges were vibrant and lush and plenty. I'm sure we would have taken some from the ground if it were not for the modest fence attempting to protect them. As we descended upon the river the ground below us took the feeling of damp muddy sand, and we squatted to sway our fingers in the cool rushing water. Because of the recent rains the stream was very swift. We returned to the house/office, where everyone had a task in preparing our "al ha'aish" or barbecue. Unlike all my previous jobs where any office meal was either catered or ordered, this was my first home-made office meal. Everyone had a part. The men managed the chicken and meat on the grill while the women took care of the salads and vegetables and dips and drinks. We equally shared the clean-up, swept the floor, shook out the heavy weight of accumulated leaves from the netting looming over our cars, and headed on to Rosh Pinna. We drove straight up the steep hill of Rosh Pinna and parked on the cobblestone of the old moshav. (In fact, Rosh Pinna was the very first moshav of Israel, just weeks before Petach Tikva was founded - one of the many interesting facts I learned today). We made our way to the famous chocolaterie and our cozy reserved tables in a corner among low pillowed couches. The waiters brought us hot chocolate in cups decorated with chocolate and trays filled with a cornucopia of chocolate cake, pies, cookies and chocolate-covered fruit. They topped off our meal with chocolate shots in cups we could actually eat - true to Willy Wonka style. Our last challenge of the day was a trivia challenge about northern Israel. I knew none of the answers, but on the plus side I learned a lot. And it made me excited and motivated to learn more about Israel. After the chocolate shots the winner of the day's competition was announced, and it was my team! We all received mini-medals and posed in a picture together. We were exhausted, in fact it was more exhausting than a day's work, but it was a day good for everyone's soul. It must be the air of the north. Or the humbling feeling of gazing up at the majestic Hermon. Or the rushing rhythm of the roaring waterfalls. Whatever it was, the day was the perfect recipe for peacefulness. <br />And on top of everything, it was a maximum day of Hebrew practice. There was no way I was going to impose upon 16 Israeli adults to spend the day speaking English or translating for me, and besides I've already been here for 9 months; so immersion it was. I certainly didn't understand everything, and at times the language barrier made me feel like an outsider, but I've come to realize it's ok. You can't swallow Hebrew the way you can swallow a glass of water. It's like bending over sand at the beach, opening your palm, and one by one placing grains of sand into your palm. It's that tedious and exhausting and frustrating. But even though you're standing on a sand-covered beach, at the end of the effort you have a palm full of sand. So although I don't understand every sentence, with hard work I am gaining the gist of the conversation. And with more work, and more work, and more work, I'll eventually be walking freely in that conversation. I hope. <br />But I've had my Hebrew quota for the day. Now, to the bath. Layla tov.<br /><br />p.s. unbelievable pictures VERY soon to comeLibbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-3703141292956986852010-01-21T15:29:00.003+02:002010-01-21T15:49:39.359+02:00Becoming a real IsraeliSo I have some exciting news to share... I got a job!!!<br />I'm starting Feb 1 as the Marketing Operations Manager for a Tel Aviv start-up company. I'm really excited, it should be a great start for me here. And the best part is I'll have a regular salary coming in which will relieve my financial stress. I'm finally going to be a real Israeli! <br />Although I'm sad to leave the girl I've been babysitting for the past 6 months... we've become close and I'm going to miss her. I realized the other day that even though she's only 9 years old, she has played a significant role in my aliyah adjustment. She's taught me about Israeli TV shows, Israeli music, Israeli celebrities... and what the realities are for children in Israeli schools. It was really a special and unique relationship. Well I promised her that I will always be in her life and I intend to remain committed to that! (As my mom said, who knows, maybe she could work as a babysitter for me one day! Wouldn't that be funny.)<br /><br />My new company is taking the whole staff on a retreat next week to the north in honor of Tu B'Shvat. We'll plant trees, go on a hike, and bond as an office. I'm the only American in the company, so even though all the work is in English, the office conversation is generally in Hebrew. I'm looking forward to that challenge. I've now been out of ulpan for about a month and a half and I've noticed how dramatically my Hebrew learning has slowed. I'm still practicing daily and learning new words, but compared to the pace in the ulpan, I'm feeling the lag. I want to get back into a part-time ulpan class as soon as my schedule allows it. <br /><br />Last week I celebrated my 27th birthday. My first birthday as an Israeli. It was really nice. I went for dinner at one of my favorite Tel Aviv restaurants (Zepra - I highly recommend it) with my close friends and Tzahi. We drank wine and had a fabulous time. <br />Over the weekend Tzahi took me to see "Avatar" and I absolutely LOVED it. It's an ultra-modern twist (futuristic if you will) on the classic imperialism story. It's amazing how they have you rooting for the blue aliens over fellow human beings. What I loved about the story was how they emphasize how everything in nature - and therefore in the world - is one big interconnected network of energy. I've learned this myself through yoga but it's so easy to forget or dismiss. But it's undeniably true. The movie inspires you to want to get back in touch with nature, the earth, life. Our world is just as amazing as Pandora (the planet in Avatar) we have just taken it for granted. <br /><br />And then there's Haiti. I was discussing with my employer why it is that it seems every major natural disaster (tsunami, earthquake, tornado, etc) seems to be happening in the poorest parts of the world. My employer argued that its the other way around -- that these countries are poor BECAUSE of the fact that they experience so many natural disasters. But then I pointed out an example like California, who suffers many extreme earthquakes, but seems to recover from them much more efficiently. It's easy to blame imperialism for all the problems of the world -- but I can't help but wonder if it has something to do with this as well.<br /><br />So there are lots of changes... but good changes. I'm excited to enter this next phase of my life in Israel - a real working woman. It's always hard for me when I make a change to leave those things behind. It's like the little anxiety that accompanies every birthday - questioning whether I'm "ready" to take on the next age, the next step. But I always seem to find that after I surpass the change, I'm even happier.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-68265243194269275332010-01-14T23:28:00.004+02:002010-01-14T23:39:35.161+02:00Struggling to keep up with genderized speechOf all the things that amaze me about fluent Hebrew speakers, I think what amazes me the most is how people always automatically know the gender of the object of their sentences. When speaking Hebrew, you have to be constantly conscious of gender. Everything has a gender - nouns, verbs, adjectives, pronouns, even words like "it" and "this" and "will be". everything. so when I speak, unless I want to sound like an idiot who only speaks in the singular masculine present (which I don't), I am always forced to slow down and think for a second - ok the object of my sentence is future female plural - and convert all the other elements of my sentence appropriately. but it just amazes me how Israelis just do it so naturally, automatically, they just KNOW the gender of whatever they're talking about, always. But when you're learning Hebrew they tell you, there's no way to know the gender of anything except for just learning it - memorizing. there's no trick. sure there are certain letters that make a noun more likely to be male or female (such as words ending in "mem" are more likely to be male and words ending in "nun" are more likely to be female) but a lot of the time, you just have to memorize. Like what makes a door feminine and a window masculine? Or what makes the word for "breasts" masculine and the word for "war" feminine? It's not logic. You just gotta memorize. So it's quite impressive to me when I hear little children around me babbling away, converting all their adjectives and such according to the proper gender, I'm just like -- how do you KNOW?!! amazing. simply, amazing.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-90786305736152184522010-01-05T22:55:00.002+02:002010-01-06T00:00:32.020+02:00A little clip of Ehud Banai - performing about 3 feet away from us at an intimate dinner club/performance bar in Ramat Hachayal, Tel Aviv<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-4dcd68d4c42ce927 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="4dcd68d4c42ce927"></OBJECT>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-17921236771008394092009-12-31T19:17:00.002+02:002009-12-31T19:27:10.278+02:00Taking in Georgia – a beautiful bit of culture shockBefore yesterday, I didn't know very much about Georgia. I knew Georgians were kinda like Russians and there was a significant community of them here in Israel. But that was about it. So last night, my roommate, who has a Georgian grandmother, brought me to a full-on Georgian wedding at a hotel here in Tel Aviv. About 10 minutes from our home, I was not prepared for a night of serious culture shock. First of all, the dress. At all the Israeli weddings I've been to thus far, Israelis dress so casual I've seen grooms without suits and guests in jeans and flip flops. Georgians take it to the opposite extreme. The women are decked out to the NINES – we're talking full length, tight, scrunched, sequined, and diamond-encrusted ballroom gowns. Every single one of them had been to the hairdresser that day and their heads adorned bees nests of hairsprayed ringlets and glittering jewels from their collarbones to their fingers to the heels of their 6-inch shoes. And there was a lot of gel happening among the men, who proudly displayed their perfectly polished and cleavage-accented wives on their arms. Needless to say, my roommate and I stood out in our plainness. And our non-marriedness. This particular bride and groom had gone above and beyond a million shekels on this wedding. The food was first class, and abundant beyond imagination. The number one most powerful wedding planner in Israel was running the show. And a show it was. Around 9pm the guests were ushered from the preliminary cocktail room (which had a smorgasbord of food) to the chupa room – boasting a prominent raised white runway leading to a stage-size chupa blooming from every edge with white roses. They hired some famous singers who stood at the far end of the runway, singing hauntingly beautiful Judaic melodies to the family members as each made their way down the aisle. Now from what I understand, Georgians value nothing higher than family. You can see how big a role the family plays. (They also marry very young – I could have sworn the grandmother was the mother. She looked impossibly good to be a grandmother. But you can see that just about everyone over the age of 21 was married. Which was a shock to me all its own.) So the two mothers walked down the aisle together holding up beautiful tall candlesticks. The groom and his father came down the aisle, and then the bride with her father. The bride and her father stopped halfway, and then the groom came back down toward them, hugged the father, the father walked away, and then he took the bride, kissed her forehead, and lowered the veil over her face. She was stunning. An absolute Cinderella. The ceremony proceeded, and one thing I liked was that they incorporate actual dancing as part of the chupa ceremony. He lifted her veil once more to ascertain that it was she, broke the traditional glass, and then they finally kissed. From there we were ushered into the main hall. It was like a king's ballroom. After we had been seated and eaten enough salads and fish and appetizers to suffice a meal, the king and queen – I mean the bride and groom! - were heralded by a blasting trumpet and dimmed lights. They took the spotlight in a beautiful fairy tale dance, after which everyone else joined the dance floor. But there was no hora. No hora! A Jewish wedding with no hora! I couldn't believe it. The Georgians are big on the hand dance instead. Also they had hired a top-rate band which included a dozen professional dancers in moulin rouge outfits. The whole scene kinda felt like a blend of moulin rouge, a king's ball, and a high school prom. I just couldn't stop staring at everything. Also the bride and groom had made this video, it was like a music video, about themselves and imagining different scenarios they might have met (they actually met through a matchmaker). It was displayed on screens across the walls. It was cheezy and cute. The party was gonna go til 7am but after the meat course was served at 1am, we decided not to stick around for dessert. Georgia is just another world entirely. But definitely one that's nice to look at!Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-12111128464248931552009-12-28T15:53:00.003+02:002009-12-28T16:19:12.430+02:00If there's any justice out there... please come forward nowThis is what I call an I Hate Israel day. For those who don't know me too well don't take it too seriously -- I still love Israel with all my heart, soul and mind. It's just that I'm extremely angry.<br />Might we start with mentioning the fact that I almost got beaten with a cane by an old lady on the street today. It sounds funny until you're actually in the situation. I was simply waiting for the use of an atm, which an old lady was blocking and I couldn't tell if she was arriving or departing. I offered very politely in Hebrew to help her, and she shouted at me to back off. I took a step back, and as she was slowly moving away from the atm, I slowly moved forward. She got angry by my approach and suddenly lashed out at me with her cane. Luckily she missed, but I and the other pedestrians around me were simply speechless. That's what you get for offering to help!<br />But no. I would like to dedicate this particular blog post to my landlord, the one and only Yitzhak Gaffney. If there was ever any question in my mind as to whether someone could be both Jewish and pure evil, Yitzhak answered it. I could fill a book with the number of grievances my roommates and I have accumulated in a short 6 months against this money-making manipulative liar. But I'll spare you. This is just the update from this week. He calls us at 11pm to inform us that men will be doing renovations on the roof starting at 10am. At 7am I awake to what sounded like drilling on my head. We go up and find workmen beginning what would be a roof-replacement project. We call our landlord to ask what exactly is going on and all he tells us is that the contract we signed allows for him to do renovations of any kind at any time. And that we better move our things away from the part of the ceiling that will soon be open to the sky. One of the workmen who knows us pulled my roommate aside and tells her that he's only telling us this because he sees that we are good people - but the truth is that our landlord picked us as tenants this year because he knew he would need to do serious renovations on the apartment and wanted olim chadashim who would be powerless to stand up to him. And that we were going to be in big trouble if it rains, because without a roof, our entire apartment will flood. Oh, and because of the roof renovations, our dud shemesh (water heater) got broken and we have no hot water. My roommates and I didn't know what to panic about first. I called my landlord about the lack of hot water and he gave me the name of a fix-it man to call. The man I call tells me he's about to fly to Thailand and I should talk to his brother who will come in his place. When I talk to his brother he tells me he hasn't heard anything about this and isn't coming. When I call my landlord to tell him this, his phone is off and he doesn't call me back. So I went up to the roof and found one of the men working there, and asked if he would take a look at the dud shemesh for me. He told me he would. Even though this is absolutely not his project. But it is my only hope. Until then, I've showered at my boyfriend's parents' house, my friend Jen's house, and my neighbor Zevik's house. I'm starting to feel like a wandering showerer. Upon hearing this story, some of our friends have laughed that now we know what it feels like to be homeless and we should appreciate what we do have. I might feel more grateful if I wasn't paying so much rent to a man who doesn't have the decency to return his tenant's phone call, nevertheless supply us with hot water. Actually you know what he said? He told me to shower in the afternoon when the water would be naturally warmed by the sun. Because of course I'm home in the middle of the day with nothing else to do but shower! And what makes me the most angry is that our landlord is a millionaire who owns our whole building plus several hotels, and he doesn't have a shred of decency to see us as the zionist, optimist, young new immigrants that we are, demanding nothing more than a solid roof over our heads - he takes total advantage of us, and there's absolutely nothing we can do. <br />Oh, and is there any chance the drilling might start at a more reasonable hour, say 8am? Just be grateful it's 7am and not 6 was my answer. That's Israel for ya.<br />For anyone considering moving to Israel, always remember - we don't move here because Israel is a Mediterranean version of America. Far from it. It's the Jewish homeland, and we live here despite everything that comes with that.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-73119985994876474892009-12-23T20:07:00.002+02:002009-12-23T20:21:32.801+02:00Chanukah in shorts and a t-shirtThe highlight of my Chanukah experience in Israel was definitely Festigal. "Festigal" is an annual Chanukah commerical performance for children, starring major Israeli music celebrities. I never would have gone had it not been for the girl I babysit for, who asked me to take her. I figured it would be good Hebrew practice, and had no idea I would enjoy it so much. I was very impressed; I truly didn't know Israel was capable of such a high-calibre musical show. What I really loved was the imparting message of the play-within-the play: there are two warring "sides" and at the climax they decide to choose love and peace over continued warfare. They come together saying "my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather was the brother of your grandfather's grandfather's grandfather", and one character even says, "It's just like us and the Arabs." It was so blatant that the mission of the play was to teach children love and peace over hate and war. I was so touched to see that, in a context where it wasn't even necessary to go there. This was simply a Chanukah celebration. But Israelis truly try to take every opportunity to impart messages of peace. I wonder if anywhere in an Arab land such a show would ever take place...<br /><br />My Chanukah celebration concluded with a trip to the Dead Sea, which was wonderful. It was warm enough to sunbathe in a bathing suit, but the water was very cold. At first we were worried about traveling there in the first place because the rest of the country was experiencing heavy rain, and being that the Dead Sea is the lowest place on earth, it can suffer from deadly flooding. Especially because you're driving down steep cliffs to get to the Dead Sea, flooding can make rocks fall, which is even scarier. But everything stayed calm and dry, and we had a wonderful, relaxing time.<br /><br />It's funny that Christmas is in 2 days. It's impossible to know it here. Christmas is just a totally regular day. You wouldn't even know that it exists, except for the fact that Israel gets an influx of visitors now coming on their xmas break. Today was sunny and warm and I went for a run on the beach in shorts and a t-shirt. I can't believe it's December! It doesn't get much better than this :-)Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-62972938367265328192009-12-08T20:37:00.004+02:002009-12-08T22:45:27.611+02:00Since my return to Israel from my trip to America, I've had a few firsts.<br /><br />Today was my first time at the movie theatre seeing a movie in Hebrew. The girl I babysit for wanted me to take her to see a children's movie, and I figured if there was any movie in Hebrew I might understand, it would be a children's movie. I definitely "got" the movie, even though there were more than a few sentences that went over my head. But it was a cool experience.<br /><br />Two nights ago was my first time calling the police in Israel. At 11pm my roommates and I were unable to go to sleep because of the loud drilling in the street outside our apartment. We could hear all the neighbors yelling about it so we figured someone would do something. But after the continued ruckus, I decided to take matters into my own hands. When I called to complain, the police informed me that this particular construction had permission to do what it was doing, even at this hour, and I was promptly hung up on. Thankfully my bedroom doubles as a bomb shelter and when I fully lock everything down, it gets pretty soundproof.<br /><br />This Thursday is my last day of ulpan. I thought I would be crushed that it was ending but actually, I'm quite relieved. I feel burned out and ready for a break. And I also feel equipped to take my Hebrew learning into my hands from now on. I have come a long way. (Hey, I can even call the police in Hebrew!)<br />I learned, though, why sometimes I feel Hebrew doesn't quite capture what I'm trying to say. I discovered that there are about 50,000 words in the Hebrew language, and about 250,000 in the English language. That definitely would explain it!<br /><br />I've been taking a little break from my daily commute via bicycle, due to the "rainy season". It's a bit amusing to see how people go into panic mode during the rainstorms. All I can say is I would not want to be a Tel Aviv bus driver on a rainy day. The buses are packed, and it seems everyone is having a crisis. One man is yelling at the driver for forgetting to tell him where to disembark even though he requested it three times, some old grandpa just remembered to ask if we've passed yet a stop that we passed 3 stops ago, another woman is soaked through and upset that the previous bus wouldn't stop for her, etc etc, all with dripping umbrellas and raincoats and children yelling make up for a typical Israeli scene on a rainy day. I just love it.<br /><br />On a "brighter" note, Chanukah is almost upon us. The kiosks and grocery stores are showcasing their menorahs, candles, sufganiyot, dreidels, and all the other items to meet your Chanukah needs. Chanukah is one of my favorite holidays and I've already begun to indulge in the scrumptious, chocolate/jelly/cream-filled and frosting/sprinkle-coated sufganiyot (chanukah donuts). They're sold from little street stands on practically every corner. Israel truly can be a dangerous place to live!Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-84488736337255757022009-11-24T02:41:00.000+02:002009-11-24T02:43:48.447+02:00A small tributeI've realized – men are amazing. I don't know where so many women in this world would be without their men. Just in the past couple days of catching up with old friends and reflecting on my new ones in Israel, it dawned on me that our men are holding us together. The 20's are a difficult time, and without naming specific names, many of my close female friends and relatives are going through some very challenging changes. And it's the boyfriends that seem to offer the ultimate source of strength, and support, and sustenance. But not in an unhealthy dependent way. In a beautiful way. In a selfless, purely loving, mutually surviving way. Like in Israel, I can't even begin to describe the number of olot chadashot (new female immigrants) who are making it through the daily Israeli challenges because of the love and support of their boyfriends. Myself included. I don't know if the olim chadashim (new male immigrants) are getting the same level of support from Israeli girls. I doubt it. But we new Israeli women are so lucky to have our strong Israeli men – without them, god knows, the number of long-term surviving olot chadashot would surely be much less! Thank you God for our men. Amen!Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-9524632983861626192009-11-22T21:37:00.003+02:002009-11-22T21:50:51.221+02:00Back in the USAWell, I made it to America. It was quite an exhausting journey, more so than past trips. There were some new challenges. Like when I was going through Israeli customs, there is a line for "Israeli Passports" and a line for "Foreign Passports", and I didn't know which line to go to. Technically I don't have an Israeli passport yet, I have a teudat ma'avar, so I asked an airport employee which line to go to, and they told me I had the option to pick. So I went with "foreign passports" only because at that moment the line was shorter. When I got up to my turn, the employee scolded me for being in the wrong line, because "I'm an Israeli now" so I should be in the Israeli line, even though I don't have a passport yet. Oh, whatever. Then when I got to America of course I used my American passport, and it was strange answering the custom man's questions - such as, "What are you doing in Israel?" "Um, I live there now," was my reply. "Well, welcome home," he said, and it just felt strange, like he didn't realize that for me, this trip was more than a visit than a return home. But I realize the truth is that I have more than one home. New York is one of my homes, Boston is one of my homes, and Israel is now my ultimate home. The most striking thing since I've been walking around NYC the past couple days is just hearing English all the time everywhere on the streets. It's so strange not to hear Hebrew! and when we go to a restaurant, I can easily understand the menu. It feels so easy, too easy. It's also weird to see how much water there is in the toilet bowls. I forget how much water! I don't have to be conscious so much of letting the water run in the sink. America is the land of plenty! We went to CVS and there's just so much, so much of everything - and we went to a typical NYC bagel deli, and it was just heaven. American heaven. Cupcakes and muffins and cream cheeses of every flavor, in tofu version, in lite versions, in every variety a New Yorker could possibly desire. It's easy to love New York. And the service felt like a shock too - at dinner last night, the waitresses were so nice. And so attentive. Always refilling our water glasses without our even requesting it. I can't wait for the day that Israelis learn the concept of customer service. It's such a beautiful thing! But, on the other hand, it's cold here. It's not even cold for northeast winter standards yet, but to me and my Tel Aviv-accustomed skin, it's cold. But its ok, I can handle it for 10 days :-)<br />and its wonderful to be with my family. there's nothing better, nothing more comforting than hanging out on the couch catching up with my sisters and playing with my 1-year-old nephew and eating home-baked banana bread. really, nothing better. its just amazing how airplanes can bring you so quickly from one world to the next. this world is so familiar to me. but israel is the world of my heart. and in one day of travel, it feels like i've swapped lives. but its comforting to know that all of this is only a plane ride away.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-46531534450169642682009-11-19T18:52:00.003+02:002009-11-19T19:03:31.301+02:00Signing off to AmericaTomorrow I'm flying to America, for the first time since I made aliyah. I'm going to NYC and Boston for 10 days to visit family and friends and celebrate Thanksgiving.<br />I have such mixed feelings about my trip "home" that it's hard to reconcile how I'm feeling right now. On the one hand, I'm SO excited to see my family and friends... on the other, I have no desire to leave Israel. Not even for a minute. <br />I've realized that my feelings for Israel are much the same as my feelings for my boyfriend -- I'm madly in love with both. The same passion, intensity and devotion I feel towards my boyfriend, and the feeling of wanting to be with him all the time and how hard it is to be apart from him for even a day, captures exactly how I feel about Israel. Being outside of Israel feels so unnatural - this is the place I want to be, all the time! This is my life, my heart, my soul mate! I know that when I'm in America I'll feel sooo happy to be reunited with my loved ones. But ultimately, my heart is here, in Israel, and I know I'll never feel as happy on the plane ride to America as I will on the plane back to Israel.<br />I also had an emotionally mixed week this week because I was filmed for 2 "movies" -- one was a promo movie for Ebenezer, a pro-Israel Christian group, and the other a documentary about olim chadashim in Tel Aviv. In both interviews I was asked to describe my feelings about my aliyah experience, and the questions probed me to deeply contemplate and articulate my feelings about life in Israel. In both interviews I was asked whether I believe all Jews should move to Israel, and I realized that's a difficult question for me to answer. I was asked to define the city of Tel Aviv, and what I would do if God forbid bombs rained down on Tel Aviv. All the heavy questioning combined with the fact that I'm "packing up" for my first trip back to the states has culminated in a contemplative Libbie. <br />What I do know is that I'm very excited to see my people, and 10 days will go by quickly - which may be a good thing and not such a good thing. But like my love, Israel will be here waiting for me, and that's my ultimate comfort.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-14545048300896077192009-11-19T13:08:00.003+02:002009-11-19T14:30:53.062+02:00Video of the Yitzhak Rabin memorial rally in Tel Aviv, on the 14-year anniversary of his death<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-4e43e58ac1ab719 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="4e43e58ac1ab719"></OBJECT>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-25133470512008771002009-11-03T19:59:00.005+02:002009-11-04T20:43:17.585+02:00With the rain, Israel feels like a realityThe rainy season is officially upon Tel Aviv. It came so suddenly. One day we were suntanning on our balcony in 82 degree weather, and literally 3 days later it was cold, dark, and pouring rain. It suddenly didn't feel like Israel anymore. With the rain and gloomy atmosphere, it feels like a totally different place. <br />What's funny is that every Israeli knows that the rain will come eventually, around this time of year. And yet, it seems that everyone waits until the first torrential downpour before rushing in the masses to buy umbrellas and rain boots. You can picture a madhouse, to say the least! I wasn't prepared for the rain either because I never check the weather forecast here. For the past 6 months the forecast has literally been the same every day -- "hot and sunny." "hot and sunny." But now we have entered the time of year I have come to think of as: "check the forecast" season :-)<br /><br />Like the rain, Hebrew is permeating my brain. I'm trying to swallow so much Hebrew each day - between my classroom hours, homework, and social immersion - that I even dream about Hebrew grammar. I guess that would make my teacher proud. It never ceases to amaze me what learning a language so intensively like this does to the brain. I am losing English words. I dream in an elaborate conglomeration of Hebrew and English. I find myself speaking English incorrectly at times, with the same intonations that Israelis speak it. While I still feel a natural need to turn to English in most serious situations, at the same time I feel certain Hebrew phrases express my feelings the best. I understand TV in Hebrew ten times better when there are Hebrew subtitles than when there aren't. There are times I have exciting accomplishments, like going to see a movie in Hebrew and understanding half of it, or watching children's TV shows with the girl I babysit for and I understand nearly everything. But then, after feeling like I've come so far, my boyfriend will say one simple sentence to me and I don't understand him at all. That's the ultimate in frustrating. So it's hard to guage what level I'm at -- I just feel like I'm in a brain overload most of the time!<br /><br />My fellow olim chadashim (new immigrants) in my ulpan class and I are getting closer after all these long mornings together, day after day. I don't know if my teacher planned this on purpose, but this week we started learning all the words for feelings. She was smart to wait until we were really comfortable with one another before doing the exercise that we did. As with all new material, we practice the vocabulary by using examples from our lives (our teacher is opposed to hypothetical examples because they don't 'stick to the brain' as well - and she's right). anyway, it was a small class that day, and we went around sharing sentences using the feelings "frustrated" or "scared" or "disappointed", etc. I don't know if it was the sound of the rain or the small class atmosphere that day, but whatever it was, people started sharing personal things and really opening up. There is one woman in particular, a 42-year-old immigrant from Russia, who came here with her 18-year-old daughter to be with an Israeli man. Things didn't go exactly as planned and they broke up. Now she is trying to make ends meet by cleaning buildings all night, and struggling to build a social life on her own. She shared with us how depressed and hopeless she feels, and I could see by our teacher's reaction that she's not only an experienced Hebrew teacher after working with olim chadashim for several decades, but also an experienced therapist. There were tears in my class that day, and it became clear to all of us that we're not just struggling to master this language together, but we're all sharing a simliar struggle outside the classroom as well. <br /><br />I left class feeling my heart open. I went to a yoga class and poured all my effort and energy into the postures. I sweated as if it was the rain drenching me. During the rest period at the end, our instructor turned off the lights and placed scented eye bags over our eyelids, and we relaxed into the ground, soothed by the gentle rhythm of the rain on the ceiling. I felt a glimmer of realization that this is it - at the end of the day, it's just our heavy bones that are left on the ground, in the darkness and the silence and the rain - and our souls are so much more than that. God gave us the power to create anything that we want, to become anything we want to be. That is why the world is full of so many wonderful and so many horrible things - he wants us to see our endless potential. And by not letting us know what happens after we die, he gives us the only true motivation possible to strive for the absolute best. There is reason why we don't know what will happen. How else can we appreciate life? <br />I invited my Russian ulpan friend to come to a yoga class with me next week. I hope it will be a positive experience for her. We all need to be reminded of how precious life is, and how much infinite power rests between our simple bones. Israel can be a struggle, and Israel can be wonderful. We have to seize her with a determined smile.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-62706213337576942702009-10-24T23:01:00.002+02:002009-10-24T23:47:33.323+02:00A Night in the Namal - Tel Aviv celebrates its centennial<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-9e1850628f286771 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="9e1850628f286771"></OBJECT>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-43276268264328584112009-10-24T13:25:00.002+02:002009-10-24T14:50:33.368+02:00Hatuna Simcha!<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-2ba962d0bbc8394e class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="2ba962d0bbc8394e"></OBJECT>Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-88018047799163353362009-10-17T18:00:00.003+02:002009-10-17T18:48:08.580+02:00Living in ruachI think this time of year, end of summer/beginning of fall, may be my favorite time of year in Tel Aviv. It's still hot enough to be at the beach every day, but cools off enough at night to not need air conditioning. There's a pleasant breeze, and less tourists. Tel Aviv has quieted somewhat, like now she's back to breathing as her natural self. <br /><br />We recently celebrated Simchat Torah, the holiday celebrating the fact that God gave us the Torah. I joined in the traditional synagogue song and dance, but the most special part of the holiday for me was when I was sitting at a streetside cafe and a spontaneous crowd of people came singing and dancing down the street, Torah scrolls bouncing in the air among them. There was such genuine joy on everyone's faces, religious and secular alike, young and old, passing noisily down the street - everyone simply joyful for our Torah. It's not something you see in the diaspora. In the diaspora we generally limit our religious celebrations to the home and the synagogue. But here on a main street in central Tel Aviv, traffic stopped in the middle of the evening for everyone to come together and just have fun and be happy for our Torah. It was affecting. <br /><br />In other news, I got to see my dear Charles Jacobs last week - which was wonderful - and a few thought-provoking comments came up in our conversation. He was explaining why he believes in God, and said no reason makes him more convinced of God's existence than the fact that the Jews are still alive. He argues there is no good reason why we should still be around - we are "politically stupid", always persecuted, outnumbered, etc etc, but 3,000 years later we're still kicking - so there must be a reason for it. There must be a God. I agree!<br />Charles and I also discussed the problematic birth rates in Europe - Christian Europeans on average are having 1 or 2 children per couple, while the number of Muslim births in Europe is skyrocketing. Charles attributes this to secularism - Europeans are becoming less religious. He argues that religion, or having religious beliefs, is the main motivation to have children. So without this, of course secular Europeans are choosing to spend their money on restaurants over baby toys. I think his point is interesting and probably true in many cases, but I wouldn't conclude 100% that all reproduction is motivated by some sort of religious faith. I think for the majority it's true, but some people who may not believe in God still understand that love is the most powerful force in the universe, and choose to have children to share in that love. But I've asked quite a few people here what they think, and most seem to agree with Charles. What does motivate a person to have 10 children instead of 2?<br /><br />Speaking of love, I went to a wedding in southern Israel 2 nights ago, and it was magnificent. 600 people attended the wedding, which is somewhat normal in Israel. The average wedding here has about 400 guests. Anyway, just to give an example of how bad Israelis are with anything time-related, the wedding invitation called for a 6:30 start. My Israeli boyfriend insisted we didn't need to get there til 8pm which I thought was rude, and we argued practically the whole way about whether we would be early or late. Well, the wedding started at 9. That's just a small taste of how Israelis perceive time :-)<br /><br />The groom was the first of many grandchildren in a large family to get married. The proud grandfather, who had probably waited his whole life for this moment, was perched in a wheelchair beside the stage that the bride and groom ascended for the ceremony. As the bride and groom walked down the long column formed by the 600 guests leading up to the chupa, the bride stopped and kissed the grandfather on the cheek before she continued on her way. The grandfather just broke down - it was like his face broke open and he was shaking crying with joy and emotion. I couldn't even look at him, it made me feel like my heart was going to rip open and I would cry and cry. Even the caretaker standing by his side couldn't hold back the tears.<br />And being at the wedding, I felt again why I love so much to be in Israel - the ruach. (spirit/energy). Everyone was just so joyful, so full of energy, so celebratory. The dancing didn't stop from beginning to end. The meals were served and cleared and the dance floor never once emptied. The best thing about Israelis - definitely their ruach.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4305453616667364110.post-69478670762009534132009-10-05T01:46:00.007+02:002009-10-05T14:24:39.080+02:00Gilad, Tarantino, and the value of our values...I seem to be hearing the same question over and over the past couple of days - was it worth exchanging 20 Palestinian prisoners for a videotape of Gilad Shalit. Does it set the wrong precedent? 20 prisoners in exchange for a live human being is one thing, but a videotape? The reason it's so hard for me to answer this question personally is, I don't know how to measure a life. I don't know how much the life of Gilad Shalit, or myself, or any Jew for that matter is worth. All I know is, I saw a smile on Noam Shalit's face on the television for the first time in years. I saw Gilad on my computer screen, breathing, moving, alive. Is it worth it, knowing 20 terrorists who have plotted to kill us are now free on the streets, not far from where I sit at this moment? How do we measure worth?<br /><br />And how do we measure justice? I just saw the Quentin Tarantino movie "Inglorious bastards", which is essentially the ultimate Jewish wish fulfillment. After 60+ years of lamenting our tragic history, Tarantino gave us a taste of vengeance, of fantasized satisfaction. And it felt good, it felt incredibly good in fact, to watch hundreds of Nazis burning and bleeding and suffering to death in an imagined history. But the question for me remains - could this fictionalized veangeful behavior be worth it? <br /><br />Everything our enemies do is so disgusting, so degradable, they are less than human. They have no moral code. They are worse than animals. So how do we compare ourselves to them? How do we compare 20 criminal Palestinians to the cherished sign of life from our beloved Galid Shalit? There is no comparison, because we can never compare ourselves to our enemies. Which is why it was difficult for me, watching the Tarantino movie. On the one hand, it felt exactly right. It felt good on a physical, animal level. Eye for an eye. but in terms of pure animalistic torture and bloodshed on the level of Tarantino, could we Jews really reduce ourselves to that kind of behavior? Killing is one thing. But killing like animals is another. <br /><br />It is an immensely gratifying feeling, after all these years, to see Gilad alive on my computer screen. And it is beyond gratifying to see the major Nazi players burned and shot and scalped on the cinematic screen. But I don't feel completely confident about this exchange of values - I don't like the measures of comparison. I don't want to think our enemies influence the way we value things, the way we value a human life, or our own dignity and humanity. Yes, after the videotape exchange Hamas announced they will now start kidnapping as many Israeli soldiers as they can. They may say that. But to me, that doesn't make freeing Gilad any less urgent. I value Gilad's life as much as I value my own. I think my life is endlessly significant, and Gilad's the same. The terrorists' lives don't even compare. I think what Israel did for Gilad shows how deep our values rest. So as for Tarantino and his Nazis - it's easy to feel the surface-level satisfaction of an eye for an eye. But to scalp like animals is a level that I think contradicts how much we value our own values.Libbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00118838470236365712noreply@blogger.com1