Chanukah in shorts and a t-shirt

The 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...

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.

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 :-)

Since my return to Israel from my trip to America, I've had a few firsts.

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.

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.

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!)
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!

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.

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!

A small tribute

I'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!

Back in the USA

Well, 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 :-)
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.

Signing off to America

Tomorrow 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

Video of the Yitzhak Rabin memorial rally in Tel Aviv, on the 14-year anniversary of his death

With the rain, Israel feels like a reality

The 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.
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 :-)

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!

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.

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?
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.

A Night in the Namal - Tel Aviv celebrates its centennial

Hatuna Simcha!

Living in ruach

I 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.

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.

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!
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?

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 :-)

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.
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.

Gilad, 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?

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?

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.

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.

A touch of holiness

Yom Kippur in Israel is like imagining what the world could be like if everything stopped. If all systems shut down. Like being on a Hollywood set, except it’s real. It’s like grappling the realness of the world we live in. Not sliding by day after day in hurried routine, like everywhere in the world, all the time. It’s a sudden stop. A sudden silence. Everyone together recognizing suddenly that this is real, that we are all alive, that this is amazing. And Yom Kippur is not a day of suffering, even though the feeling of hunger is possibly the worst feeling in the world. It’s a day to celebrate that we are alive, that we have God, that we have limitless potential to create and be anything that we want. Sometimes we need to get out of our heads to feel that different perspective – and focusing in on our bodies is one way to help us do that.

(For those who don't know, on Yom Kippur in Israel everything is shut down - it is the holiest day of the Jewish calendar. it is forbidden to drive and not a single car passes on the road except police or ambulances. Every single thing is closed except maybe one hospital per city. There is no television, no radio, nothing happening for the 25 hour holy period of Yom Kippur.)

I went to an interesting shiyur (lesson) today at “Bait Hayihudi”, an Aish house, in Tel Aviv. We were discussing the six mitvot surrounding God – to recognize his existence, not to put any powers before God, to unify God, to love God, fear God, and not indulge in our base desires. Someone raised an interesting point about the second mitzvah – how do we feel proud of our own accomplishments, if we’re never supposed to put any power before God, and all credit goes to God? And the response is interesting – any amazing accomplishments we humans accomplish are what we are supposed to be doing. We were put on this earth to fulfill our own potential, which entails doing amazing things. God has given us that power. But when we do accomplish something extraordinary, the mitzvah tells us to “take pleasure” in the accomplishment, rather than feel proud. All of our gratitude should be towards God, for giving us the opportunity to fulfill ourselves, to reach higher points, etc. I like that way of thinking. It’s dangerous to get caught up in too much self-pride. It inhibits our ability to grow. I’ve noticed this in the smallest ways with myself – for example, with my Hebrew studies. Sometimes I’m doing really well, such as in class when I understand everything and know all the answers and speak correctly. But then it’s easy to fall into the “oh, this Hebrew isn’t so hard, I’m so good at it, I don’t need to try so hard” etc etc, and if I let myself think that way, just because I had one good class as a payoff for my hard work, then for SURE in the next class I’m doing less well. Pride is a downfall. The same can happen in yoga class. If I have a really good class and I’m able to hold certain postures better or longer than others, I start to think I’m so good, and it’s that much harder for me when I come across a posture that’s difficult for me. The best way for me to continue to improve and grow is to “take pleasure” in my accomplishments, but not be proud. And that’s exactly what God has commanded of us, because God knows that that’s how we grow. And we owe it to God to grow. When after we die we go to heaven (or whatever happens after we die) and God asks us what did we accomplish in our lifetime, do we think he will be impressed that we started a business or built a highway or developed chain stores? In my opinion, no. Not that those are bad things, but God wants to hear us say at the end of the day that we fulfilled our potential. That we took risks and followed our hearts. That we focused our lives on love. That we were grateful and not proud. That we appreciated life. And that’s another reason Yom Kippur is so special – when we abstain (for a 25 hour period) from all physical pleasures – food, water, showers, sex, comfortable shoes, etc – it forces us to appreciate all of these things. God doesn’t want us to suffer. God simply wants us to appreciate every minute that we are alive.

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful thing to walk the streets of Israel on this holy day. People everywhere, and utter silence. Not a bleep to be heard. This is what peace feels like.

A change of season

So according to Israelis, autumn has officially descended upon us. The only difference I can detect is my morning shower no longer has immediate hot water (the water here gets heated by the sun, so when the weather cools, it's not as naturally hot. But the evening showers are as hot as ever!) I will grant however there is a detectable cool breeze in the evenings. And we're not all drenched in sweat in the outdoor clubs at night. So I guess that qualifies as fall, even though my definition of fall doesn't typically include 82-degree temperatures like we had today!
In more exciting news, I bought my first book in Hebrew. It's one of a series called "gesher l'ivrit" which means "bridge to hebrew", so they are like dummied-down versions of real hebrew books, with larger font, vowels, and translations of the hard words at the bottom of each page (translated into English and Russian). But nonetheless it's a BOOK, and i'm so excited every day that I sit down and read it. It's a really good feeling. Some friends in the ulpan and I are starting a casual book club where we're each reading a different 'gesher' book and then going to pass them around. We're all really excited that we've reached this level.
I've learned some interesting things about the way the brain works when learning a new language. For example, I understand almost twice as much when my eyes are closed than when they are open. That may sound weird, but I guess it makes sense when you think about how with my eyes closed I'm not distracted by visuals and more focused in on the actual sounds of the words. Also when I watch TV with subtitles, Hebrew subtitles, I understand twice as much than when I watch TV without them. It's also amazing how as soon as I've learned a new word, I start hearing that word all the time, even though it felt like I never heard that word before. Every day I notice new things about Hebrew or English or about the way the brain works.
Back to the book now!

A taste of Madonna, Israel-style

Indulging in Hebrew and Madonna...

My boyfriend got us tickets to the Madonna concert here in Tel Aviv last week - which also happened to be the last night of her "sticky and sweet" tour, so it was an extra special night. I had never seen Madonna live before and I'm not sure what I was expecting - some "like a virgin" and impressive dance routines, but I wasn't expecting much more than that. How wrong I was! I left Madonna's concert feeling so inspired. She just came across so human and yet so incredibly accomplished – making us in the audience feel like we can be anything we want to be. It’s always a shock to me when I see celebrities in person – like they suddenly seem so human and regular. Anyway she put on an amazing show and I’m posting here one of the videos I took at the concert for your viewing pleasure. :-)

My days continue to be Hebrew-packed and I’m just trying to swallow up as much Hebrew as I can, as quickly as I can! The ulpan is advancing and extremely tiring, but I have a very good teacher and I’m grateful for that. From five hours of class I move on to my babysitting job for the next five hours of my day, with an adorable Israeli girl who understands English but refuses to utter a word. It can be funny and it can be frustrating (often depending on the mood she’s in). A lot of times my Hebrew bumbling just makes her laugh and we even try sometimes to read books with difficult Hebrew just because it’s so hilarious for her to hear me stumbling through the words. But sometimes she just wants me to understand her and shuts down in frustration when I don’t. And it’s the most frustrating feeling in the world for me, because with everyone else I interact with here in Israel, we can always turn to English when in need. The girl understands English but for whatever reason refuses to speak it. For example, she’ll ask me if I know what a certain Hebrew word means, and I just keep guessing English words until I get it right. And she can correctly identify once I’ve said the right word. But she can’t seem to come up with the English word on her own. Now that she’s started school she has homework every afternoon, and one of my babysitting duties is to sit with her and help her with the homework and check her answers. This is seriously the hardest Hebrew experience I’ve encountered yet!! First of all, I’m helping her with her MATH homework, and for anyone who knows me well, you know me and math! For one thing. For another, math in Hebrew. I have yet to learn the Hebrew words for “integer” or “multiplication” etc so yeah, the whole experience is a little amusing to say the least. I literally sit there with her Hebrew math book and a dictionary and visualize the situation as if from up above looking down on myself, and simply laugh.