You Know You're Adapting To Israeli Society When...

Savory salads, including the contentious chummus (and a few random falafel balls)

I had lunch with my friend Tani today and was so glad to hear she has been enjoying regular chuckles due to my blog. As a reward (how lucky she is) I gave her a preview of this entry. Tani, I hope you like it!

I hope you, dear readers, do too. I know it has been a while since I posted, but last week suddenly became a cauldron of activity from which I could not tear myself away. It was all I could do to keep my head above water, what with the demands of ulpan, work, etc. etc. Yadda, yadda, yadda - poor me.

In any case, for the past week I've been noticing that I have regularly been doing a number of things that were really foreign to me when I first arrived.

As a result, as much as for my own benefit as all of yours (how I flatter myself that my readership is in the plural), I've decided to compile the following list of indicators that illustrate how my over-a-month-long stay has influenced me in a number of ways.

So - You know you've been in Israel and adapted to the culture somewhat when you:

• Use the expression "go for coffee" for every possible type of social situation. Going for lunch? Going for drinks? Going bowling (not that I noticed a single bowling alley in this country)? Then you're "going for coffee."
• Get used to everyone asking you how old you are and whether you are married (and of course, then telling you they have a shidduch for you, usually inappropriate). This includes shul-goers, storekeepers and CEO's.
• Start using Israeli slang, often improperly. (Please reference my incorrect use of the word "Halaan" a few entries back.) I suddenly find myself screaming out "Ayzeh Basa!" (roughly - what a crappy situation), "Al Ha'Panim!" (on my face - when you do something embarrassing), and "Sof Ha'Derech!" (end of the road - meaning the best ever) at random intervals.
• No longer think twice when you see a car parked at a particularly odd angle in the middle of the street, or directly on the sidewalk.
• Suddenly find yourself wearing extremely casual clothes almost every day of the week. Not just the same pair of jeans five days in a row (this started immediately upon my arrival) but - gasp! - sweatshirts, sweatpants and sneakers. Together. HORRORS!!!! *Please do not tell any of my friends in Manhattan about this disturbing development - they will never let me back into their social circle. Heck, if I still lived in Manhattan, I wouldn't let myself back into my social circle.*
• (On that note:) Have attempted to get a manicure on three different occasions but have been cancelled upon by Udi, Ezzi and Mezinka each time. As a result, you take to doing your own manicures (a survival skill) or even - yes - walking around with naked nails. 
• Wear a trendy, glittery, aqua beret (yes, I am referring to one of the glorious accessories I still manage to wear, despite my extreme Case of the Shlumps) and someone congratulates you on getting married. Even though you are wearing pants. After all, you are covering your hair.
• Use toilet paper in place of napkins and tissues. And get used to the lack of napkins at the table at meals. (I don't know why this is, I guess everyone surreptitiously wipes their hands and faces on the tablecloth.)
• Get used to people from Tel Aviv asking you, "Why would you want to live there?" when you tell them you live in Jerusalem. This is often due to the perceived lack of social establishments in Jeru.
• Start using abbreviations like J-lem/Jeru and TA (Tel Aviv).
• Begin to think that the distance between cities like Jeru & TA (about an hour) is soooooo looooong. Even though you thought it was the same as the relatively short distance between Queens, NY and Teaneck, NJ when you first arrived, and snickered openly at Israelis for whining about it.
• Are no longer scared of black cats but even begin to have a soft spot for them. I am considering naming the one I see most often. Perhaps I will call him 'Black Coffee.'
• Have extremely strong opinions about the best chummus in your local grocery, in your neighborhood and in the cities of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. And you aren't afraid to voice them, ever.
• Are shown to a table at a cafe and bark at the waitress that you did not want that one but instead wanted one in the middle. Then you stop yourself a minute later when you realize that tone of voice was entirely unnecessary. It's just that you've gotten used to people barking at you.
• Not only are blunt in regard to seating at dining establishments, but basically everything.

You people are boring. I need to go. (There I go with the bluntness again.) Sorry.

Toodles.

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...

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!