In the Tel Aviv safari, up close & personal

Best first-day-of-work ever

I 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.
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.
But I've had my Hebrew quota for the day. Now, to the bath. Layla tov.

p.s. unbelievable pictures VERY soon to come

Becoming a real Israeli

So I have some exciting news to share... I got a job!!!
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!
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.)

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

Struggling to keep up with genderized speech

Of 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.

A little clip of Ehud Banai - performing about 3 feet away from us at an intimate dinner club/performance bar in Ramat Hachayal, Tel Aviv

Taking in Georgia – a beautiful bit of culture shock

Before 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!

If there's any justice out there... please come forward now

This 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.
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!
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.
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.
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.

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