Unwinding

The stress has not gone away from the nightmare that was last Thursday afternoon, but I'm finally starting to feel better. I had a quiet and relaxing shabbat. And today I got out of Jerusalem. I didn't even realize how much I needed this day away. I went because my friend Pauline, who I used to play with everything single shabbat afternoon for like fifteen years, is here on Birthright. Luckily we got nearly three hours to hang out but I would have gone for five minutes. It's so great seeing a longtime friend from home-- especially one on her first trip to Israel! I would also like to say that today, on December 23, I walked barefoot on the beach and waded into the water. I miss the snow and cold, I really do, but I can't deny that being able to do that today was wonderful. On the bus ride back to Jerusalem I could feel the air slowly getting colder. When I got off the bus my craving for a milk shake turned into one for hot cocoa (which I got- with Jody, who is leaving me, sniff sniff). I've been thinking about what I wrote in my Nefesh B'Nefesh application essay. One thing I wrote was that I knew there would be good days and bad days. I had no idea.

1. a few of the billion reasons I hate the healthcare system here 2. going to a shiur to actually learn Torah

I think people should have to pay me if they want to aggravate me. Aggravation always results in me spending more money-- whether it is calling someone to vent or needing to spend 41 shekels on dinner because if I don't have a full warm meal I'll have a meltdown. Mental note: never believe anyone who works in a doctors office. The secretary at the first doctors office I went to today told me I could have something done there that it turns out I couldn't. The secretary at another doctors office I went to couldn't find my file and accused me of mistakenly thinking I had been there before. I was there to get a REFILL for a prescription. It seems unlikely under those conditions that I would have forgotten where to go. Then the doctor tells me for the 500th time that he doesn't think I should be on this medication. Sorry, my doctor in the US wins. Loser. After two hours of waiting (at least my ear got taken care of and can hear again) I was on my way back up Rechov Keren Kayemet... tired, dehydrated, hungry, and very cranky. It was the second time since I made aliyah that I was ready to jump on a plane and go home.

On the the latter part of my day... I went with a friend to a shiur at the Begin Center. I decided that despite the cold and rain it was really important that I get out and try to unwind some more. Also it was exciting being able to hear again. The shiur was given by a Tanach professor (didn't catch his name) but had a bit of a musar in it towards the end. I enjoyed it and even understood most of the Hebrew. I am so amused at how many English words are now "Hebrew." It's amazing how many people were there. We got there a little late, and had to sit on the floor. And not only that, it was in a room with a projector set up because the main room was already full. It amazes me that I live in a place where going to a shiur is an ordinary evening activity. The crowd was definitely a mix of both Israelis and Anglos, younger people and older people. And everyone was there for the shiur! I'm sure there was some socializing, but for the most part people sat quietly with their source sheets and gave the professor their full attention. I was impressed, and happy. I admit that my main incentive to go to the Tuesday night shiur again is to see people, but I would prefer to go to a shiur like this. So maybe I will make this a weekly activity. It is down the street after all.

So in the end of the day I am cranky and extremely angry at my constant obstacles with doctors here, thankful for take-out places that make delicious chicken soup, and absolutely grateful for the friends I've found who hear me out and make me feel better.

And it's really funny about Shira's drawing... I will not explain that further.

The lasting effects of Jewish youth groups? My usual rant but this time in print.

I just got back from a Bnei Akiva Olim shabbaton in Migdal Oz. As I sit here thawing out from the bitter cold, I am thinking about the effects Bnei Akiva (and NCSY, but lets leave that for another blog therapy session) had on my life. I spent four summers at Moshava which for me, as I put it, was a social disaster. Little did I know at age 10 that Jews were different everywhere, and that few even considered hanging out with that lone girl from Boston. No, we did not have a kosher Dunkin' Donuts in Boston, but somehow we managed to remain Jewish anyway. And Boston, contrary to the belief of some, is not in upstate New York. Yeah, that's right, for high school I stayed in the same school I had been in since I was four years old. And I didn't care less about people freaking out about not getting into Ramaz. Camp was a different world, and I'm relieved I came out of it in one piece. In fact considering my social situation there, it's amazing that I enjoyed camp enough to slowly but surely absorb the constant Zionist propaganda being sent my way. There is no doubt that the constant songs, plays, and divrei torah that were all centered on aliyah had an effect on my decision to move here. When I was 10 I chanted "We're gonna make aliyah!" because that's what everyone else was doing, but 13 years later here I am. So what now? On the shabbaton we were essentially used as a focus group for how Bnei Akiva Olami can continue their program with their participants after they make aliyah. "Bnei Akiva shouldn't be over when you step off the plane." Really? Is the idea of a garin aliyah a thing of the past? Bnei Akiva Olami's new goal is to prove it's not. I think I would appreciate it if Bnei Akiva provided more programming for their success stories like me. If Bnei Akiva is what made me do this, I would like to be around other people who were similarly influenced. It could be the same kind of events as Nefesh B'Nefesh, but it would be a different crowd, one I could relate to much different, and... I can only hope... maybe more of an aliyah event and less of a singles scene. Despite the social nightmare that was Moshava-IO, I do feel a connection to my former fellow campers. But not enough to go start a yishuv with them. What's the point of a Bnei Akiva yishuv anyway? Isn't like every yishuv in this country heavily influenced by Bnei Akiva? I'm thankful to Bnei Akiva for their brainwashing- I really am- but it's time for them to let go. I think a lot of us at the shabbaton felt the same way. They should be there when we need them, and we will need them, but we're going to make our own plans and have our own lives. As I said to a fellow co-counselor from Ennismore, I have no doubt that a significant amount of Toronto olim will wind up living in the same place. Bnei Akiva forged connections between many of us, and those connections did not at all disappear when we arrived here. It's too bad we couldn't get our points across. Idealism is great, but not when it stops being practical. I waited years for Bnei Akiva to return to Boston, and it only did so last year. What are their priorities? We're already here; now they can go brainwash more American children. Seriously. They shouldn't be so disappointed that the olim don't want to move out to a development town and change the world. We'll be okay. Some of us will even do amazing things. And for those of us who move to a yishuv, our kids one day will do Bnei Akiva too. Bnei Akiva is a youth group for a reason. Okay my rant is over now.

Yet another night out in the Katamon scene: The Tuesday Night Shiur Chanukah Party

Well, it was exactly like the Tuesday night shiur, just more food and no Torah. And I knew a couple more girls there. Yup, that's about it. A packed apartment of people who came to socialize except this time didn't have to sit through a shiur first. It's funny when I think about it that way.

I've also learned that quite a few people I've met here have cars. Very useful information. Don't worry Shaun, the t-shirts for your entourage will be ready next week.

Another night out in the Katamon scene: The Tuesday Night Shiur

Last night, with much encouragement from a friend to be social and get out more, I attended the Tuesday night shiur in Katamon. The apartment was packed. So many people came... to learn Torah? Hm, maybe. I knew about two thirds of the guys there and exactly one girl. I recognized many of the other guys, but not any of the girls. This was not at all surprising to me. As I mentioned in a previous post, the social dynamic doesn't seem to allow for girls to befriend each other easily. And what I'm finding to be too true is that guy-girl friendships/relationships here are outright complicated. But anyway... I was intrigued by the shiur. I'm glad so many people work Torah into their week, even if it's just to hit on each other during the break. Then there was the after party. Who knew a shiur could have an after party? A few of us went to a nearby cafe for drinks and shmoozing. Guess I can't make fun of it too much. It's near impossible to put a social life together here. And I guess shlepping out to Palmach an extra night a week isn't the worst idea for me.

A couple anecdotes

I decided to take advantage of my recent publicity (check out http://www.israelity.com/?p=4092 -- they claim I used the word kitsch... not sure I would even know how) and post a couple other stories/observations from the past few days. I suppose there are connections one can make between the two about what people are like in this country. If you care to, leave a comment.

On Friday my brother and I made the obligatory trip to the cemetery to visit the graves of our grandmother's sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. I saw a grave with a sign posted above it (and not just any sign- a nice gold one with clear black letters) declaring that the person laid to rest in that kever forbid any of his relatives from coming to visit his grave until they were chozrim b'teshuvah. Following this statement was a "to-do list" of necessary actions such as giving charity and changing their sinful ways.

Today I received yet another call from the Jerusalem Post. The Post is famous for terrible customer service. I had already expressed my dissatisfaction to the last person who called and requested that they hold off for awhile. Most of my trial issues had not arrived, and I was outright insulted when in response to me saying that I could not afford a subscription, the salesperson asked if I had a relative who could pay for it as a gift. Today when they called and I heard who it was I immediately said "no thank you" and hung up. Now in the US this happens all the time and the telemarketer goes to the next person on the list. Not here. I immediately got another phonecall from them, pressed the reject button, and a minute later had a voicemail with an angry Israeli woman telling me that it is horribly rude to hang up on somebody. Rude. Ha.

Jerusalem through the eyes of a three year old

Every Monday and Tuesday I take care of a three year old boy and his baby brother. Their apartment has a huge window overlooking Keren HaYesod, a main thoroughfare for both cars and buses. We often look out the window and comment on what we see-- cars of different colors, trucks, taxis. Today all we saw was a few police vehicles. Then we got the call from his mom that her bus wouldn't go anywhere near the apartment so she was on foot and would be home as soon as she could. "Why are there no cars?" the boy wanted to know.

How do you explain the street being closed for a rally to protest Annapolis? There were tons of people walking towards town in the middle of the street, and this kid knows we only walk on sidewalks. So what was I supposed to say. "Well, sometimes in Yerushalayim a lot of people want to get together in the middle of a busy street and because of that the police make sure all the cars and buses stay away." "Oh, the buses are sleeping today!" Okay, it wasn't like I expected him to get it anyway.

Once his mother came home he completely lost interest in the abnormalities outside and I came home to enjoy a pleasant evening listening to fun Jewish music from the rally down the street. I guess this is how we express our dissatisfaction here in Jerusalem.