A Day in the Life of Your Intrepid Olah Chadasha

Holla, or as they say here, Ahalan! (I still don't know what that means, but I enjoy saying it since it makes me seem like I'm in the know. I could look up the word in my trusty Hebrew/English dictionary, but let's be honest, I probably won't.)

So, I've been regaling you with endlessly interesting anecdotes (if I do say so myself) regarding my life here, but I really think that a 'Day in the Life' entry would illuminate just what I'm experiencing. Read on!

6:20am - Actually get up when alarm rings to go jogging for second day in a row. It's the beginning of a new regime since I just couldn't take the lack of exercise anymore. I need it physically, emotionally and so I don't go crazy(ily).

6:27am - Eat bowl of off-brand cornflakes and 1% milk (no skim allowed in Israel). Bliss.

6:40am - I zip down the eerily empty Rechov Emek Refaim, which is just beginning to show signs of life. Some workers have left huge bags of onions and potatoes outside a cafe. I contemplate stealing one but come to my senses, since: 1. I'm no ganev; and 2. What the heck would I do with so many onions?? I resume my jog sans huge sack of tubers.

7:10am - In the absence of a true jogging trail, I run in circles around the cement courts of Gan Ha'Paamon, built for some indeterminate sports, which I share with a bunch of fiesty cats. (There I go with the cats again.) They run like the wind everytime I get within a few feet (or is it grams? ha ha) of them. My brilliant theory is that all the bright blue I was wearing - my fleece and headband - spooked them. Or are cats color blind?

7:40am - Back home, I rush around getting ready, needing to be at ulpan by 8:30. Finally know how to get to the bus stop without getting lost. The bus is usually late so I think I have all the time in the world, but I get there as it is just leaving. I huff and puff and scream out a few mild obscenities, causing the policemen randomly checking cars nearby to stare up at me quizzically. I give them a dazzling smile in return.

8:20am - I use my time waiting at the bus stop to do the ulpan homework I should have done the night before. What can I say, the life of an olah is very full and I am proud to be doing any HW at all. (Sorry Mom and Aunt Gail. I'm still your shining star, right?? :)

8:32am - The bus miraculously comes earlier than it normally would (it's spaced out about every 25 bleeding minutes). I try to buy a monthly pass, but don't have enough cash. All of my maneuvering in tandem with the bus driver's sudden whoosh out of the station causes me to fall smack dab on my butt.

8:34am - What does one do in this scenario but laugh, smile adoringly at my fans, and then get comfy on the floor? I work out my ticket issues, haul myself up and resume the bus ride. I'm only 10 minutes late to ulpan, and lovely Morah Esther (who has the same name as my darling mom) welcomes me with a sweet smile, not guilting me at all for being tardy (to the Hebrew grammar party). I love her.

8:58am - Yahoo! Time for snack #1! I noisily unwrap a mini Luna bar (so glad I brought an entire suitcase of them with me to Israel) and gobble it down.

9:49am - I check my watch for the 7th time, pretty much a reflex. It's not that ulpan is boring but that I'm not used to sitting in a classroom for such an extended amount of time. We learn about words that have two meanings, based on their structure. The handout, for some odd reason, includes a very non-PC picture of a China-man in a Vietnamese type hat with very slanty eyes, cutting paper with scissors. Far be it from me to understand. Some very pro-human rights folks in the classroom get a little miffed. I try not to judge the illustrator too harshly and move right along (nothing to see here, folks).

10:30am - Break time! My classroom is blessedly warm and heated, but the rest of the building is absolutely freezing, much colder than the outside. I attempt to get warm by going into the nattily decorated 'Moadon' (i.e. Clubhouse), which I thought housed some computers. No such luck. However, a Young Turk that I have had the pleasure of befriending allows me to use his laptop. I manage to send out one email on the Turkish keyboard, but am unable to figure out how to include the letter 'i' with dots as well as commas and general punctuation. Nevertheless, one long email down!

10:32am - Feel guilty about all of the other emails I still owe.

11:23am - Back in class. We discuss the events of the past week. I ramble on about Obama's State of the Union Address. Esther the Teacher asks the Italians in the class if they know what happened in their home country. Greeted by their silence, I chime in, in Hebrew, that the food is good there. The class snickers. The Italians refuse to elaborate on their country's amazing food. Bastardos.

11:57am - Snack #2 - half of my PB&J sandwich! Yummers!

1pm - Time for the Tu B'Shvat ceremony! Some of my fellow ulpanites put on a talent show and: Sing songs about how man is close to the earth; put on little skits involving one girl dressing up as a surprisingly realistic-looking tree; and read off inspirational quotes from the Torah. Delightful.

1:23pm - Emotional presentation of Teudat Zehut (Israeli ID cards) to those that have not yet received them. I was gifted with mine at the airport, so I'm an old hand at this. I politely clap when the mood strikes, especially when a Spanish Stud Hoss claims his in a very charming manner.

1:50pm - Time for dried fruit and the ceremonial planting of a tree! I indulge in a fig and 2 walnuts.

2:40pm - Bus back to my sublet in the German Colony, which always involves passing Aroma Coffee. I struggle against the usual impulse to buy the diet slushie, a very expensive habit. I finally decide to compromise: I will get one every Sunday (first day of the work week) and Friday (first day of the weekend). So off I go to get one. It takes me about seven minutes to describe what I want to the Barrista (or is it Aromista?), but I triumph in the end.

2:51pm - Back at the apartment, I valiantly struggle to open both the screen door and the front door, then relock them quickly. I put in a few hours of PR work - pat on back.

3:30pm - Darla, my intrepid broker, picks me up to look at an apartment. It pretty much rawks although the location is somewhat questionable. I decide to make an offer.

4:15pm - Darla and I go food shopping together at a discount supermarket. (The roles of people here bleed over constantly - my last broker invited me for Shabbos dinner.) I did not expect so many American products and enjoy the selection of reduced fat Ken's Steakhouse salad dressings.

4:43pm - The cashier informs me that I am entitled to a free bottle of soda with my purchase, so I naturally go to the nearby soda section and take my sweet time deciding if I want Diet Coke with Lemon, or some sort of Sprite drink. She jerks me out of my reverie when she shrieks that I should first get to work packing my groceries (yes, we do it ourselves here) and only then can I pick out the dang bottle. I attempt to yell back, but end up saluting and obeying of course.

5:12pm - Darla laughs about how in all her 10 years of going to this supermarket, she has never seen the cashier react that way. I attribute her venom to my blond innocence (i.e. my wide-eyed, flaxen grace).

6:47pm - I heat up a frozen lasagna I purchased at the Supermarket of Shrieking, and it is utterly delicious. I chomp away as I converse with some unlucky soul on the phone.

7:30pm - Darla and I meet with the owners of the apartment I am seriously contemplating renting, and they ask for some outrageous sum as a security measure, which is somehow considered to be a normal practice in Israel. At least according to their broker - our lawyer will have the final say. Not sure how the apartment will work out after all, but will be seeing another tomorrow.

8:45pm - Tidy up at home and make some final phone calls. Have some random Facebook Instant Message chats.

10:15pm - Realize that I must post a blog entry and push myself off my furry, delicious comforter and into the tundra of the living room.

11:04pm - Blog entry completed! Off for a midnight snack and then beddie-bye. Layla tov!

Warm, Tired Kittens

I guess the multitude of cats in Israel has me slightly obsessed, since this is the second entry in a row in which I refer to cats. And usually, I couldn't care less about our Friends Who Eat Fancy Feast.

Anyhoo, I thought the kitties of Yerushalayim would do a good job of illustrating the way I feel.

I'm tired.


I would just love to fall asleep in a warm mug of hot chocolate.

(And isn't it ironic that one of the mugs has a dog on it? I guess that cat and that dog do get along. Har har.)

Random Musings at the Random Hour of 8:57pm (or should I say 20:57)

Hello boys and girls!

I'm in much better humor today because last night,  I received my bag with the ulpan materials back. This required a trip to Tel Aviv and ended up costing me about $60, which on balance, might not seem worth it. However, starting over with notes, homework, etc. would be such a pain and also in the bag was my 'Anneni' prayer book, which has great sentimental value. So I guess G-d really did answer my prayers since my items have been restored!

Since I'm sure you're dying to know what I had for dinner (I would be), I just finished eating some Chinese chicken I purchased at a local store. One great benefit of Israel is that the take-out ends up costing the same amount as cooking it yourself. So I saved myself alot of time and actually had meat on a Wednesday night. This is quite the accomplishment since there is an approximately 0.5% chance I would bother cooking chicken during the week. The meat was cold since there is no microwave in the sublet but like I told you before, I'm an odd nut to crack and I don't mind that at all. In fact, cold poultry raises fond memories of bleary Sunday mornings, post Hell Raising Saturday Nights, when I woke up at some odd hour and craved nothing but cold chicken, pizza or lasagna.

And now I will seamlessly segue into my still-very-much-alive-and-kicking apartment search. I have about 10,614 brokers on the case and have seen a very interesting assortment of dwellings, among them: An amazing two-bedroom that I was dying to take but doesn't really seem available (tease!), one ramshackle cottage that would be perfect for a would-be unabomber, and one really adorable studio that is just too small for a home office (and is also in a private house with a yippy dog - dealbreaker). I really need to find something soon - keep your fingers crossed.

In a few minutes, a friend of a friend who is a computer specialist is coming over to evaluate my laptop, which has been ill with a stuffy nose and a bad cough. Poor thing, it is only 7% charged at the very most and shuts down suddenly after about 10 minutes of use. Hopefully, Computer Dude will administer electronic Sudafed and chicken soup and my laptop will be back in fighting form.

I looked at a few gyms today because I feel like The Biggest Lump in the Middle East. Normally I exercise about 4 times a week at the very least, but since I got here, jogging has gone out the window and all I do is walk (which does nothing, in my opinion). I MUST get back into it!! I keep staring at myself critically in the mirror to see if my size has changed. So far it appears that it has not, but I'm seriously thinking of posting Before and After close-up pictures on this blog and hearing your opinions (I am a vain masochist).

Being that it is Wednesday night in Izzy, there is one day before the weekend! Against my better judgement, I am going on a shabbaton. I am pretty sure it will be nothing like NCSY, but committing to spending time with a group for a fixed amount of time in a random place is always a risk. Still, it should be good fun and a new chavaya (experience).

There are some very vocal cats in the street outside who seem like they're having themselves a grand old time. I love hearing a good hiss and meow and there is certainly no shortage of cats in Israel. Rowr!!

Computer Dude is coming any minute (unless he is operating on Israeli time, which means that I have a good 2 hours), so I must go powder my nose. Please sit back in your easy chairs, enjoy smoking your pipe by the fireplace and have yourself a lovely evening (of Masterpiece Theater).

Thou Shalt Not Lie...Except to Israeli Customer Service

Let's dispense with the shaloms, shall we? Suffice is to say that yesterday will not go down as a top day in the Shining Pantheon of My Life.

It all started when I was late for the bus to ulpan, again. This time there was no way around it and I had to take a cab. Uch, I hate wasting money so much!! I also have been feeling very out of control in terms of my finances because I have not been logging all of my spending on the usual Excel spreadsheet.

Truly, most of my daily routines have gone out the window with aliyah.

The cab ride was very stressful because some truck drivers decided that rush hour was the opportune time to BLOCK THE ENTIRE ROAD in order to hook up some dumping contraption. I opened my car window and shrieked at them to "ZUZ!" (MOVE!) but of course that didn't help. It just made me feel better.

I did make it to ulpan on time but had to explain why I had missed the prior day. The truth is that I still consider Saturday night the 'woo hoo, time to go out' night, even though Sunday is really a working day here. So I did not get enough sleep and just could not drag my sorry carcass to ulpan that day. Of course I didn't tell the teacher that - white lie #1.

I also had a pressing appointment in Netanya, to meet some co-workers at my new PR job. In order to be there on time, I had to leave ulpan early. This did not please my teacher and I assured her this would not be the norm, explaining that "Pussycat, it hurts me more than it hurts you." (Okay, I didn't use those exact words, but you get the nekudah/point.)

So, I rushed off to catch the bus to Bnei Brak, where I would be meeting a connecting shuttle that would take me to Netanya. I've already complained about the rude bus drivers here, but this dude will go down in the Hall of Fame of Disgruntled Nahagim. When I asked him about the right stop, he grunted at me to ask my fellow passengers.

As if!! After much screaming by me (it's a necessity to get what you need here) I finally figured out where I had to get off. A nice young girl who probably thought I was some ridiculous tourist pointed me to the exact stop, and I rushed off the bus.

About half a minute later I realized that I was no longer in possession of one of my two tote bags (call me a bag lady if you must). And guess what was in that tote? Not my passports, thank G-d, but all of my ulpan materials. Clearly, I am not a position to ace this course, especially considering that we have a test on Wednesday. How my Israeli grammar is going to suffer.

Back to the transportation story from Hell. I had missed my connecting shuttle and ran frantically into some stores in Bnei Brak, where a nice greengrocer looked in the phone book and helped me find another shuttle (at a high price). It was worth it in the end and I'll tell you why.

I called the bus company to explain that I literally had just gotten off the bus and knew the identifying numbers for both the driver and the bus (which were on my ticket). The representative, in what I am told is typical Israeli fashion, told me that the bus company does not, as a practice, keep the private phone numbers of their individual bus drivers.

This mystified me - how the heck do you run a company without knowing the numbers of your bus drivers?? The rep insisted she could not call the bus driver and said I would have to be satisfied with leaving my contact information with her, and she would call me if something was found.

Usually I joke about these matters, but I was really appalled by her baffling lack of sympathy. Having reached my breaking point, I launched into a tirade for the benefit of my driver whereby I screeched that I was an Olah Chadasha and just could not understand why people are so mean. I didn't get why people invited us to come to the country and then treated us like crap over the most mundane matters???

I guess the driver alternately pitied me and was terrified of my wrath, because he voluntarily called the Bus Company of Idiocy back and pretended that I was his friend and had left my passports and other extremely sensitive materials in the bag. Could they check with the driver? Suddenly they could!!

What a miracle - the bus driver's number appeared out of thin air!!All because we obeyed the commandment, "Thous Shalt Lie to Israeli Customer Service."

Today, the lovely driver also picked up the bag in Tel Aviv, so I need to take a bus (shudder) back there tonight to finally get the bag back in my possession, and give the driver a nice little reward. You can bet I am not letting that dang bag out of my sight - those ulpan materials are irreplaceable.

When I told my Dad the story, he remarked that I keep losing things, and he is right: My change purse (didn't blog about that but got it back after going to the bar I had been at the night before), of course the errant belt, and now this.

What it boils down to is that aliyah has made me lose my mind. But not my appetite.

So: I got out my complaints, and you can expect your normal, cheerful narrator back any day now. In the meantime, I'm going to eat some chocolate - it's the only cure.

My Belt Left Me Bereft

Curiouser and curiouser!

Being that I finally am in one place for more than one night, yesterday I was finally able to unpack the majority of my suitcases.

I must confess that prior to this I have been - yes, shamefully - essentially wearing the same four outfits over and over again. It's really not a big deal. Everyone in Israel wears jeans every day.

(Please do not disclose this to ANYONE! I have a reputation to uphold, after all.)

Where were we? Ah, yes. So one of the things I unpacked was my prized collection of belts. I decided to wear my current favorite - a Forever 21 number in stretchy, studded black fabric - that very day.

I sashayed over to ulpan with it clipped around my new sweater with drapey sleeves. I patted it comfortingly a number of times throughout the morning. Around 11:07am (I remember the exact moment! Horrors!) I suddenly realized that my belt was no longer on my person!!

What had happened?? I surmised that it was clipped on tenuously and had fallen off somewhere. Oh, the worry! I dashed out of class and was so relieved to find it laying in a snake-like heap under a chair in the nearby lobby.

I re-secured it, making sure it was well on, and continued with my day, trying to forget the trauma.

That evening, I went out to dinner at one of the cafes lining Rechov Emek Refaim (and had a very odd salad, might I add). Oh, I had myself a fabulous time. After I returned home, I was straightening up my new sublet, feeling rather content with myself, when I suddenly realized - gasp! - I was no longer wearing my belt!!

Yes, it had disappeared for the second time that day.

I had either lost it in my friend's car, in the restaurant, or it was gone forever.

For a moment, I was devastated by the third possibility, but then realized that I didn't really want a belt that was just not that into me.

Still, I argued with myself, I wasn't sure of the belt's motivation. So like a teenage girl with a lovesick crush, I called my friend to inquire: Might he have found a belt in his car?

He hesitated for a moment, perhaps pondering what kind of pills I was on and where he could get some, but finally responded that sadly, no, he had not.

Strike one!

Yet I persevered. Today, on the way home from ulpan, I walked (beltlessly) by the restaurant and asked in Hebrew (probably making the whole exchange sound ever more bizarre) whether they had found a belt under my table, around the bar or elsewhere? I could barely look at them, so shamed was I by my request.

They HAD!

I was so happy to see my belt again that I flew into a state of bliss.

However, now that I've had some time to think, I'm wondering:

• Just why did my belt run away from me twice?
• Was it unhappy to be found?

AND

• Has it found another girl it likes better than me? (Is she Israeli? Is she Belgian? Oh, I'm torturing myself.)
• Was my belt, in fact, planning to rednezvous with Giveret X at the Restaurant of Broken Dreams (and Belts)??
  

My belt aint talking. I'm holding on to it, for now. But I have banished it to the deepest depths of my belt drawer. My new favorite doesn't just clip, it has a fastener. And it's not going anywhere.

HaUlpan Sheli

La'Ulpan sheli shalosh pinot, shalosh pinot la'ulpan sheli...(My ulpan has 3 corners...)

Oh wait, that's a song about a kova (hat)! Strike that from the record, Your Honor!

Soooo, I have ulpan on the brain. (In case you don't know the meaning of this odd word that I keep referring to, 'ulpan' is an intensive study of the Hebrew language with the objective of fluency in reading, writing and speaking.) It's my new obsession because I just started on Tuesday! This coincides with my moving into a sublet in a great location in the German Colony, so for the first time in a loooong while, I have some blessed stability in my life.

I just adore having a routine again.

Nevermind that I keep getting lost on the way to the #8 bus. I'm not sure this bus stop actually exists in real time - I think it is an apparition that shifts places for the sole purpose of tormenting me. Today's bus debacle involved me getting up at 6:30am to make an 8:30 class, huffing and puffing in search of the mystical Derech Chevron, finally finding the stop after harrassing a number of innocent passerby - and being late.

My being tardy (to the party) had nothing to do with the 20 minutes I spent fiddling with the sublet's amazing cappuccino machine...nothing at all. But dang, that cappuccino was tays-tee!

How I digress. So, they actually placed me in the Ulpan's Rama Daled, their highest level of Hebrew. I still can't believe it! I know that I understand most of what I hear in daily conversation and can speak with some fluency, but I didn't think I was that advanced since I cannot follow the news or radio at all. The funny thing is that on the placement test, I made a number of mistakes in the easiest section and got 100% in the hardest section.

I've always been an odd egoz (nut) to crack.

Anyhoooooo, my classmates are from all over the world (Australia, Russia, South Africa and of course, America) with some 'foreign' haircuts to match, and my teachers are adorable. I am re-learning all the Hebrew grammar, male/female tenses and vocabulary I have forgotten over the years. It's in there somewhere!

I am particularly enjoying the vocabulary part. Here are but a few of the words I learned to translate into Hebrew today:
-Nuclear weapons
-Hips (we had to add an adjective so I chose 'fat' - tee hee)
-FBI (are they focusing on my hips???)
-Ankles
-Chaos
-Socks (don't ask me about the state of my sock drawer)

I did learn other words in a wide variety of categories but I thought you would enjoy this mixed array. (Admit it, you did, didn't you?)

After my second glorious day of ulpan, I trucked on over to Rami Levi, a discount supermarket that appears to be Jerusalem's version of Costco. The fact that you can only buy a pair of heads of lettuce, and not a single one on its own, attests to the warehouse-like atmosphere.

Hmmm, maybe it is Costco, but the people there are crazier than the meshugennas at Fairway. Ah, New York...

I'm Standing Right in Front of You, Dead

Chas v'shalom!

But truly, that quote epitomizes Israeli bureaucracy. The first week I was here, a new friend who I'll call Tov told me a story about obtaining her Teudat Zehut - essentially a social security number that ensures your identity as an Israeli citizen.

Tov presented herself at the appropriate Ministry (HaPanim - I believe - which means the interior). Whereupon, Tov was informed that she was, in fact, dead.

Tov insisted that she was, in fact, alive. Wasn't she standing right there?

Prove it, responded the bored Israeli clerk (who had seen it all and clearly was not impressed). Despite Tov's brandishment of multiple forms of ID, the clerk informed her that the system had her listed as dead and that was that.

Ultimately, Tov managed to have her status changed. However, it took three months, and as a result, she could not obtain health insurance until the mess was cleared up.

After all, what would a dead person need with a doctor?

2 Guys, 1 Girl and a Tiny VW Bug...Aliyah, Part II

The long awaited blog entry has arrived - Part Deux of my aliyah!

So, when we left off about two weeks ago, I was about to get off the plane. Landing was a high because it truly solidified the fact that we were on the ground and here to stay. The teenagers (really young adults in their mid-twenties who were going to ulpan and reminded me of myself when I spent my freshman year of college in Bar Ilan University) went pretty crazy with their clapping and hooting. El Al played some fun songs over the intercom, including one on a Nefesh B'Nefesh video that gets me every time, with the words "I can hear my homeland calling me..." It was true - we were finally home.

That is, until Security finished the process of going through the plane and we were given the okay to leave. In the meantime, I occupied myself by talking to the Israeli guy next to me, who had been curiously quiet the entire flight. He finally started a conversation and I was able to discern that he was an El-Al air marshall, so it was understandable that he did not initiate a scintillating dialogue whilst we were in the air. (Although I still was a bit preturbed - I mean, the security of the plane? Or me? How was I supposed to feel when my seatmate showed no interest in me? Priorities, people!) He made it up to me by saying that he had a feeling the Israeli dudes would be quite happy to welcome me with open arms, since I have the look they so enjoy (i.e. I am a blondini). That mollified me somewhat and in any case, I was anxious to get off the Big Bird, otherwise known as the plane.

Being in business class (ahem, in case you had forgotten), I was able to disembark before the rest of the plebians. Trying not to draw undue attention to myself, I waited until two other women got up to leave, and then walked down the stairs with them. Turns out they were members of the press, so I was the first person to get off the plane. Typical! I can never do anything halfway, even when I want to just blend in. Oh the drama! There was a whole crowd of Israeli paparazzi documenting our arrival, and when I went to kiss the ground (kinda maudlin but really a genuine move on my part), they went crazy taking pictures. The press asked me to do it again a few times! I obliged but wish the whole thing had been a little less packaged. (Of course, one of the pics of me kissing the tarmac made it onto the Nefesh B'Nefesh video. Shandeh!)

Never-you-mind, a bunch of other olim got off the plane and the press jumped all over them. I was able to slip into a waiting bus, which was taking all of the olim in shifts to the old terminal in Ben Gurion airport. This terminal is no longer in use but is outside and therefore was able to accomodate the hundreds of well-wishers that had come from all over Israel to sing, wave flags and dance with us as we walked through the 'concrete carpet' to the airport entrance. It was an amazing experience I will never forget, and it was so nice to bask in their appreciation for our coming to be a part of the country. There were all kinds of people - older rabbis, soldiers, girls from seminaries that were dancing in silly but awesome circles.

And let's not forget who else had come - my good friend Leron and my mother's best friend from her youth, Tova!! I was so excited to be reunited with them and be greeted by familiar faces. It's not that I was in a foreign country, since I have been to Israel many times throughout my life, know the terrain (if you will) and speak the language, but this was the first time arriving for good - not as a tourist or a student, but rather a true resident that was going to have to make my way economically and socially, for real.

Nefesh B'Nefesh then had a lovely arrival ceremony, and one of the speakers was Natan Sharansky, the former Soviet refusenik who was imprisoned by the Communist government in 1977 and finally released to Israel in 1986. (He is no wimp.) He spoke really well and told us how he had arrived on aliyah: One morning he was in his prison cell, and suddenly he was freed and in the Old City by the evening. He said it was like going from Hell to Heaven in one day; needless to say, the only place to go from Heaven is down. However, he stated that while he is no longer on the initial high, the decades he has spent in Israel have still been Heaven. His speech gave me the chills and almost mitigated my disappointment when I saw there was no more free slushy coffee (should have gone for it when I first arrived - again, priorities!!).

After the ceremony, I said goodbye to Tova (I would be joining her later at her family's house in Ashkelon, where I would be staying temporarily) and Leron (we would be hanging out alot in the next few weeks, as detailed in this blog). I joined all the other olim as we were shepherded upstairs for some necessary documentation, where I got yelled at by an official who seemed a little flustered by all of the hullaballoo. It was okay - it was my first bureaucratic hurdle in Israel, so mazal tov!

Having finally secured the necessary documents, it was time to take a taxi onto Israeli soil and head to Ashkelon. Struggling with my ridiculous luggage, I went to get my chariot, thoughtfully provided by the Israeli government and Nefesh B'Nefesh at no charge. I thought it would be a breeze after everything else.

I was quite wrong - they first tried to put me and this other guy into this tiny VW bug. Poor guy - he was headed to an Absorption Center with one tiny backpack and had to be paired with the likes of me. The taxi driver went kind of ballastic when he saw my luggage and tried to tie two of my overstuffed duffle bags to the roof rack with some puny twine - nevermind that it was raining. I patently refused to allow this to go down and told Nefesh B'Nefesh they had to get us a bigger cab, whereupon they invited a third (ultra Orthodox) guy to join us in the taxi. Made total sense.

At this point the whole thing was comical, so I was happy to go along with the comedy when they picked the most insane dude in all of Israel to drive the three of us in (mercifully) a van. He sang along with the radio in a loud, hilarious voice and then put on a CD with the oddest song I have ever heard. It went something like this:

Older man's voice: Perach Perach! (Flower Flower! - some term of endearment)

Younger boy's voice (obviously fake): Eema Eema! Ani lo rotzeh la'azov et Yisrael, ani ohev et zeh poe! (Translation: Mommy, mommy! I don't want to leave Israel, I like it here!)

Mommy: LO!! (NO!!)

Then the kid started singing along with a Mizrachi beat: "Hayeenu ki'cholmim!" (We were like dreamers!)

I lurved the song! I was obsessed! I'm still obsessed! I have since asked every Israeli I meet if they have heard of it, so I can get it on my iPod and include it in every party playlist going forward, but sadly no one seems to know what I'm talking about and looks at me like I'm cuckoo. Tragic.

Anyhoo, during the ride, the taxi driver reminded me that they do in fact have food in Israel, a sly allusion to the fact that I had overpacked, at which point I informed him that I had a dead body in there. He then proceeded to have a fake converasation with the Mishtarah (Police) regarding the Rotzechet (Murderess) in his cab, and I just cracked up. The two other poor dudes, who didn't understand a word of Hebrew, looked on in bewilderment.

After the uneventful (HA!) journey, we finally arrived in Ashkelon, and after calling Tova on the phone to get directions, since we (of course) got lost, I arrived at her house. The bags were shlepped in after backbreaking labor and I unlocked the door...my (not Pee Wee's) Big Adventure had begun...

Lists of the Bad and the Tov

Enjoy my personal lists about the ins and outs of Israeli society (based on my oh-so-astute observations).

Top things that will take a very long time to adjust to:

• Metric system - Meters? Grams? Jigga what?
• Celsius vs. Fahrenheit - Could be counted as part of the metric system but deserves its own line. So if 0 degrees C is 32 degrees F (i.e. freezing), how the heck do I convert the rest?
• Thinking in Shekels vs. Dollars - Along the same mathematic route, the $ is worth what now? 3.7 sheks? How can I make a snap decision about buying 80 cotton balls if I don't know if they're $2.52 or $3.01??
•  No Heinz ketchup - Yes, Osem has gotten way more awesome in that department, but still cannot measure up (measure up!! get it???).
• Bus drivers here - I'm from New York, so I'm used to attitude, but this is over the top. Don't get me started on how I have to hold on for dear life each time the bus RAMS out of the station and gravity shifts.
• Fashion - Just do not get the style here, which I have diagnosed as a mixture of earth mother/moshav hippie, biker chick and casual jeans and a tee. So there is nowhere to wear my fabulous collection of dresses. I did wear my silky leopard dress over Shabbos, and I believe the people of Jerusalem liked it (if their quizzical stares were any indication).
• Shopping - Nope. Nope. American Apparel is here and apparently H&M is coming, so there is a ray of light, but they are both way more expensive than NY prices and anyway, I brought enough clothes with me to get through the next 30 years, easy.
• Wimpy imitation Q-tips
• Lack of accessible and affordable manicures - Shlomi was unavailable on Friday to groom me
• Learning to type on an Israeli keyboard - I have just entered 7th grade hell (when I learned to type in English)
• Potential to become a heffa - the food is just toooo good

Speaking of good food, this brings me to my positive list.

Tops things about Israel that are amazing and I will luv 4evah:

• The food - The fooooooood!!! OMG!!!! It is soooo amazing!!! I knew it would be, but having the option to fress it at all times is a dream come true. The shippudim (shish kebab) on Agrippas! The borekas at the bus station! The cappuccinos in the cafes! The yogurt and milkies in the makolets! The Mongolian BBQ at the rest stops!
• How everyone is Jewish - This includes Dudi the bus driver, Yaakov the computer tech, Leah the neighborhood grocer, Ezzi the Mafioso.
• How everything reflects Judaism - From the street signs - all named after famous people in the Torah and throughout Jewish history - to the sign on the bus that quotes Pirkei Avot ("Mipnei Sayvah Takum") requesting that you give your seat up for the elderly (i.e. me)
• Having G-d in close proximity - Had a lousy day? Your favorite figs aren't on sale? Go to the Kotel. Daven at some kevarim in Tiveriah. Perhaps that papaya will go down in price.
• Random Middle East/Old World character - Bedouin tents, old school villages, haggling at the shuk. It aint always 1st world around here.
• Agriculture - Speaking again and again of food, driving by fields when transversing the country. For example, going from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, one may pass a field of peppers, or a random etrog tree in someone's backyard.
• The weather - I know this is not the most opportune time for me to mention this to my US peeps, but I, the ultimate winter hater, am loving the lack of snow, sleet and bitter cold. My white down coat, however, is not loving its lack of airtime.
• Beauty - People just look dang good.

That's it for now, my friends. Please chime in with your likes and dislikes. I want to hear what you think about kilos and tangerines.

Pilates?? Bueller??

Shavua tov, everyone. Hope you're enjoying your lazy Sundays. Here in Israel, it's the start of the work week, and...

You heard me correctly - Israelis work on Sunday!! That is such a hard thing to get used to and I have not yet wrapped my mind around it. I do have a job (and for that I thank G-d every day) but will not be starting it for a few weeks, so for me, it's the normal 'Post Shabbos/Saturday Night Revelry Recovery,' co-sponsored by Acamol/Tylenol and a huge breakfast that hopefully features an omelet.

Part of living the early oleh (new aliyah) life is trying to find an apartment, unless you are lucky enough to have a relative that lets you live in their apartment rent-free (lucky brats). I am not one of those privileged leprechauns, so I thusly have been hopping from friend to friend, feeling like a hobo with a bag on a stick (nevermind that my bag is pink, utterly feminine, completely adorable and has a huge Adidas logo). Everyone has been really nice about accomodating me but of course, I have had to adapt to their lifestyles and be as unintrusive as possible.

This morning, my friend's roomate was having a Pilates class in their living room from 8-9am. Hmm. In any case, it was important for me to be quiet for that hour and let the human pretzels do their thing. I tried, oh how valiantly I tried. I was a quiet little mouse until 9am, and at 9:12 I picked up my Pele phone and got down to business, patting myself on the back for waiting 12 extra minutes to give the roomate time to clean up.

As it turns out, the class went on longer and I was yapping so loudly into the phone the roomate had to ask me to pipe down. I can just imagine what the Pilate-ists thought of my convos. In any case, of course I lowered my voice, and then resumed my apartment hunt with new fervor.

My food intake has also been frighteningly affected by all this hopping about. Now, you all know that I need my food, and massive quantities of it, or I turn into Little Miss CrankyPants (who is a Debbie Downer at every party or random life event). For the past few days, I haven't been in one place for more than one night, and consequently, have to take it meal-by-meal. It's very hard for me not to have a refrigerator I can attack at random intervals, and this morning, I find myself in a stuation wherein it is 11am and I have not yet eaten. (Cry me a river!)

This is unheard of for me of on any day that's not a fast day, just ask any family member/friend/someone who has spoken to me for more than one minute. So I am dashing off this blog entry to you - which sadly is STILL not Part II of my aliyah (sorry Tammar) - and then I'm headed out for a huge Israeli breakfast. Which I will enjoy immensely and during which, I will not think of calories, fat grams, dietary fiber or any annoying nutritional value of the sort.

Hope you're staying warm with chestnuts roasting on an open fire and Swiss Miss hot choco warming up in your microwave.

Pinni in Repose

I've gotten some inquiries about Pinni's state, given his meshuga New Year's Eve that will live on in infamy.

Not to worry, Pinni is sleeping peacefully replete with chic face mask and is somewhat contrite about his actions. (I must admit, however, that Leron & I are fully confident he will repeat them again within the next few weeks - if what he's mumbling in his sleep is accurate).

We will keep you posted!

For Adele

Lament of the Bathrobe

Uch. Hi.

Apologies that I still have not posted Part II of my fascinating aliyah, but I'm too tired today. You'll soon see why.

So I took a day off today from the fun and exhausting process of setting up my new life, and am skulking around my family friend's house.

Guess what I'm wearing? You'll never guess since you are comfortably ensconced in your WARM, TOASTY and DELICIOUS home (or workplace - condolences).

Flannel pj pants, sheepskin slippers (NOT Uggs) and my favorite robe.

Let me describe this robe to you as it has been so pivotal in my life (so much so that I once had the AOL screen name ComfyRobe). It's a lovely shade of forest green and designed to be uberly warm. It's always come through for me.

However, the American designers (and let's be realistic, Taiwanese manufacturers) did not envision the extreme state of tundra level coldness in Israeli homes. Since Israel is either warm or hot for 75% of the year (yessss!), the homes here are actually designed to cool off air as it comes in.

This works like a trick when it's not choref (winter - I enjoy throwing in Hebrew at random intervals). However, during the time period of December through the beginning of March, it's pretty dang cold.

So my robe is sadly ineffective.

I feel bad for it.

The tip of my nose is cold.

So there.

Gamarnu (finito).

"We have the technology..."

I finally have a cell phone so there is a place to reach me in the Holy Land - please email me for the number.  The funny thing is that Israelis often refer to cells as 'PelePhones' after one of the main companies here, and my plan is with Pele. So I am making the holy language come alive! (*Pat on back*)

I must say this is bittersweet since it was somewhat liberating to be completely unavailable and not preoccupied by the constant knowledge that at that very moment, I could be receiving a phone call, text, email, instant message, voodoo curse (you get the drift).

I have vowed to be less obsessed with this instrument and even though I did purchase a smart phone that will allow me to surf the internet, I am going to try very hard not to whip out every time I have a free second.

Please hold me to that!!

I cannot tell a lie - Pinnochio RAWKED New Years

Greetings, Earthings! Please allow me to take a break from sharing Part Deux of my Aliyah in order to introduce you to a very close and personal friend of mine:

Pinnochio, also affectionately known by his Hebrew moniker, Pinni!!

Not only is Pinnochio one heckuva human being (oh wait, he's not, although he aspires to be), he is multifaceted in that he also functions as a wine cork. I sassily picked him up at an adorable curiosities shop in Santa Barbara, and my life has never been the same.

I also befriended his twin brother, Dominochio, who now resides with my dear friend, Leron. Her life has also been changed in immeasurable ways, some too amazing to share. She was forced to put him in a long-term living situation (storage) while she transversed the globe, but had a blessed reunion with Pinni (and secondly, me) when I arrived in Israel.

(Side note: Please do not refer to Dominochio as the Dapper Dom, Twinnochio or Twiggy. Pinni, who at times, sadly dabbles in the immature arts, has harrassed his twin with these nicknames in the past and we don't want to recreate a contentious atmosphere for our wooden brothers.)

Leron and I took Pinni out for a whirlwind night on the town on New Year's Eve and he truly made it a time to remember. He took Jerusalem by storm by pounding vodka shots and chasing fast women, while we looked on in horror. Yes, we had brought him to a pub, but had trusted him to behave, and were therefore forced to put him to bed.

We tried to make nice the next day by taking Pinni to the shuk for cappuccino and a lovely day in the park, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Leron and I think we are all at a good place right now, although we suspect that he might have snuck out while our backs were turned.

Please enjoy the photo montage below, which captures this delightful tale in all its glory. Pinni is too hungover to thank you, but I know he would want it this way.

 

 

 

 

 

Well, SHALOM there! Aliyah, Part I...

Hey everyone! The word on the street is true - I, Erica, have arrived in the Holy Land and am here to stay!!

What's for lunch?? (Translation from EricaSpeak: What's up??)

This move is MAYJAH. I have wanted to make aliyah my whole life and contemplated it two other times within the past five years. This year, I finally felt sufficiently mature (was that a snicker I heard??) and ready to take on such a big life change. When people ask me what the decision-making process is like, I tell them it's like getting married - close your eyes, plunge off that diving board and hope like hell you will land on your feet, all the while knowing you will be fine eventually but still fearing you will smash into a million, billion pieces.

No matter, 2009 was the year and I proceeded to tell 200 of my closest friends. I was therefore accountable and there was no turning back!

I signed up for the December 29 Nefesh B'Nefesh (NBN) charter flight to Israel and sublet my apartment to a dear and hilarious man for the duration of my lease. I then moved out of Manhattan (horrors!) and it was back to the land of my birth, the borough of Queens, where I spent the month of December. I enjoyed reliving my childhood days in the Homestead of Parental Love, with its packed fridge, in-house treadmill, generous cable package and comfy couches. Hanging with my brother on a daily basis again was fun, and we bickered and horsed around like old times.

The packing/preparing frenzy was hellish, with my ever-loving mom taking me on endless, warehouse-style shopping trips to Costco, BJ's and the like, to pick out every possible item I might not be able to get in Israel. This includes pumpkin pie spice, which I have never used in my life, but thought I would like to have around since you never know.

I prepared myself emotionally by watching tons of Nefesh B'Nefesh (NBN) videos and sobbing poetically during each viewing, imagining myself saying goodbye and coming back to the longed-for Homeland. But nothing could prepare me for the reality.

The actual aliyah was the longest day and a half of my life. The night before, my close friends and sister came over for a final farewell (not to be confused with my 3 other goodbye parties). We reminisced and laughed uproariously, munching on Sari's homeade red velvet cupcakes (unbelievable), while my parents packed my junk downstairs.

Yes, my parents are awesome and that was somewhat babyish of me, but I was freaking out and they stepped in. In any case, I stayed up until 3am finishing up (so don't judge me), got three hours of sleep and it was time to head to the airport with my parents.

It was one of the coldest days of the year and not a fun time to shlep the insane amount of luggage I insisted on bringing. We finally literally lugged it in and thanks to the grace of NBN and El-Al, I had no problem checking in my FOUR items - 2 dinosaur-sized duffle bags, 1 obese suitcase and a somewhat more petite soft trunk.

My aunt joined us for the lovely little NBN ceremony and the accompanying sheet cake and then it was time to say goodbye. That was truly the hardest part as I will miss my family and friends dearly. I really wish my move to the remote Middle East wasn't so far from the US and A, but it can't be helped. Thank G-d for Skype and the ease of travel these days.

Once I was on the plane, I was okay. I settled myself into my aisle seat, happily observed that there was only one screaming baby in the vicinity and braced myself for a cramped ride. Imagine my surprise when one of the NBN PR guys pulled me to the side and asked if I would like to upgrade to a business class seat.

Of course, I modestly declined, since it wouldn't be fair to the other passengers, also humble olim chadashim (new immigrants).

HA, as if! I grabbed my things so fast I practically spun the guy around and quickly ensconced myself in the amazingly cushy expanse of the seat, a quasi-bed with 3 settings for sitting up, relaxing and reclining. It took me a while to master the controls and the other fun features (such as the overhead reading light - such a good idea) but I finally caught on and the flight was a breeze. I don't know how I will ever go back to steerage (er....economy class) again.

One of the famous Galena brothers, Isaac, was actually on the flight as part of the press and took pictures and video for his website, BangItOut. He snapped a photo of me in my business class gondola, and I look like I'm laying in a hospital bed. (I'm thrilled with the speed it was posted on Facebook, har har.)

How did I secure this seat, you ask? Well, after much hemming and hawing, I agreed to do a wee bit of press for NBN, which was working in conjunction with Channel 2, the main television channel in Israel. I let them document me in various stages of pre-aliyah, so they returned the favor. More about the press and when/where to catch me on TV at a later date.

Having indulged in a final Starbucks lite frappacino prior to the flight, I was unable to sleep, but I enjoyed a movie in which Johnny Depp played the misunderstood and excitingly dangerous John Dillinger, a bank- robbing hooligan. It took me a while to figure out how to get the English version of the movie instead of the Spanish one (both with Hebrew subtitles) but I persevered and was duly rewarded. What can I say, I was operating on 3 hours of sleep.

My business class stature puffed me up to new heights of importance, and I searched for flight attendants to shower me with champagne and tomatoe juice. They did provide me with a nice array of mixed nuts and the standard glatt kosher meals, but sadly vamoosed for most of the flight. I attempted to access the first class goodies but was brutally rebuffed.

I finally got over this great disappointment since we LANDED!!!

And then....

I will leave you in suspense until my next posting, whereupon I will enumerate about Part II of my aliyah and the adventures that have followed. Thank you for reading and please come again soon. A round of water for everyone on the house!