Things to smile about

Purim Meshulash is the best kind of "three day yom tov" out there. First of all, it's more like five days of Purim. The only day for schools and ganim to have Purim activities is on Wednesday, the day before Ta'anit Esther. There is no school on Fridays, can't have big events on the fast day, so that leaves us with Wednesday. On Wednesday every single kid in Jerusalem was in costume. There were princesses and Spider-men everywhere. My ulpan is on the same street as two elementary schools. I was so tempted to sneak into the school instead of continuing down the street to class. On the way home I saw a crowd of little kid animals coming out of gan. Ezeh kef! So much fun. To top it all of Jerusalem got incredibly warm over the past few days, reaching temperatures of over 90 degrees. What a treat to see all of Jerusalem outside celebrating together. Purim is a holiday for everyone.

Usually Purim is a hectic and exhausting holiday. This year was so different. On Thursday night and Friday morning we (as in those in Jerusalem) had Megillah reading, and on Friday we had to give matanot l'evyonim. Usually the night of Purim is really stressful. I'm coming off a fast day and all I can think about is preparing mishloach manot for the next day. This year I could take it easy. On Friday I went with my brothers to his in-laws in Neve Daniel for their seudah (which, being outside of Jerusalem, they had on Friday). When I got home I had plenty of time to bake another fifty or so hamantashen. It was day one of wearing my cape. On shabbat I could just take it easy... and enjoy the insane heat. I attended a v'nahafochu upside down meal Friday night during which I was served a brownie "hamburger" with strawberry "tomatoes" and whipped cream "mayo" as my second course (with a second dessert later on). On shabbat the parks were flooded with families enjoying the sunshine. Motzei shabbat I took it easy and packaged my mishloach manot bundles. No rushing out to megillah or refueling on sugar after a fast day. On Sunday I could sleep a little late, and then once again I put on my cape and set off to make deliveries. Couldn't wear my entire costume-- wasn't exactly designed for 90 degree heat. After some special deliveries I dashed to seudah #1 of the day, then to the shuk to buy stuff for my seudah (the place was almost empty!) and then back home to prepare. So many people were out in the street in costume. Our seudah was lots of fun though we learned the important lesson that if you have an end of the day seudah, everyone will come with full stomachs from the other five seudahs they were already at. Oh well. Leftover pasta anyone?

On Friday my sister-in-law's sister-in-law (does that make sense?) commented on the mishloach manot prepared by the Midreshet Moriah girls as a fundraiser for Sderot saying that every year the yeshiva students come up with some issue to invest in, whether it be rebuilding the North or this year supporting the citizens of Sderot. I thought back to my year in Israel, when on the evening following Purim day my roommate burst into my room frantically telling me that the war was starting. The US had bombed Iraq, and I had to report to the Midrasha building to receive my gas mask. I've always thought about the irony of that day-- how we traded in our masks of Purim for a mask of war. That night some girls were quiet and calm, others were hysterically crying, and then there was a small group sitting on the floor in a circle having a kumsitz and using their gas mask boxes as drums.

This month started with a huge blow to the morale of the people here. Eight young men were murdered while learning Torah. No one could fathom how we would be able to celebrate Purim just two weeks later. I'm not so sure all the family members of the eight victims were singing and dancing over the holiday, and despite the many brave souls who ventured down to Sderot to run Purim carnivals and parties I doubt anyone there could completely put aside their fear to celebrate for one day. Five years ago I wasn't sure how we were all going to get through the stress and anxiety about learning how to put on gas masks, inject ourselves with atropine, and seal a room. But then I went into the hall and saw the girls having the kumsitz. Somehow we do it. Even if it's by doing something as small and silly as attaching butterfly wings to our cat.

L'Yehudim hayitah ORA V'SIMCHAH V'SASSON VA'YIKAR...
Kein tihiyeh lanu.

And to my friends and family missing me in the US- I'll see you very soon. In one week I will be back in Newton followed by a trip to Philadelphia, College Park, and Teaneck. I am excited to temporarily leave my home here to visit my home in the US, though I'm having to say that I am finally realizing how special it will be on April 24th when I come back to Jerusalem from the airport and collapse into my own bed in my home here.

"Eich naflu giborim?"

Yohai Livshitz, 18, from Jerusalem;

Yonatan Yitzhak Eldar, 16, from Shilo

Yonadav Haim Hirschfeld, 19, from Kohav Hashahar

Neria Cohen, 15, from Jerusalem

Segev Peniel Avihail, 15, from Neve Daniel

Avraham David Moses, 16, from Efrat

Roee Roth, 18, from Elkana

Doron Meherete, 26, from Ashdod

T'hiyeh zichram baruch.

What it feels like to be Israeli

Nearly two hours ago Alissa called to ask if I had heard that a shooting had happened somewhere. I checked the news- nothing. I heard sirens in the distance, but I live around several main streets. There are always sirens. She called back about twenty minutes later to tell me that there had been a pigua, a terrorist attack on a yeshiva near town. I looked again on jpost.com and still nothing. Two minutes later I checked again and there it was. Three gunmen had entered the Mercaz HaRav yeshiva in Kiryat Moshe and opened fire. Six people have been confirmed dead and many more were wounded.

Since I arrived on aliyah, Sderot has been the hot topic of conversation. We spend hours discussing the danger civilians there face and what we can do to support them emotionally and financially. Jerusalem has been somewhat of a safehaven. The safety precautions that were enforced upon me five years ago are a distant memory. When I was here five years ago there were multiple suicide bombers on buses and shootings in the Gush. A week before I left a former NCSY advisor of mine was injured in a pigua on the 14 bus. I remember walking by the site a few days later and seeing a beat-up piece of cardboard with a pasuk from Eichah etched on it: The enemy has once again entered the gates of Jerusalem.

Tonight is Rosh Chodesh Adar. We are supposed to be "marbim b'simcha" and I feel numb. Mercaz HaRav is two minutes away from where I stayed for each of my past five visits to Israel, but now it feels more like my neighborhood than it ever did before, even if it is an hour walk from where I live now. The victims of this attack will have rushed funerals Erev Shabbat. I don't think any of their families will manage to be "marbim b'simcha" on Rosh Chodesh Adar ever again.

This news still isn't even an hour old. If I heard this in America I think by now I would be back to whatever it was I was doing. Here I have ten minutes more of a TV show episode and I'm not sure if and when I will watch it. I know that Jerusalem will feel like a different place when I go out tomorrow. Everyone will be feeling what happened tonight.

Every Israeli feels it, which now includes me.

The Adventure that is Israel Basketball Games

Last night, thanks to Tal Brody (a former Maccabi Tel Aviv player, and a former oleh chadash) I got to go to a Maccabi Tel Aviv basketball game for free as part of a Nefesh B'Nefesh event. We filled three buses from Jerusalem and joined another hundred or so olim at the arena. Considering the relatively small number of fans at the game, it was impressive filling a couple sections with olim chadashim. I was happy because I had a good excuse to wear a Terps shirt. How could I NOT wear a Terps shirt to a basketball game? Maccabi Player Terence Morris, #9, is a former Terp. A couple of us fellow alums made huge signs for him. My favorite was the "DUKE SUCKS!" one I made. We are pretty unsure he didn't notice at all, but it was fun anyway.The players were escorted to the court by cute little kids in uniforms. During halftime the kids scrimmaged on the court. I wonder how they earned the privilege. It was very cute. This picture was taken as they lined up for the singing of HaTikvah. I guess that's when I realized how cool it was to be at a professional sporting event in Israel. I was surprised they played a poor recording of the song instead of having someone sing it live. I guess they have a ways to go. There was less audience participation in this rendition. And, sigh, nothing beats the famous Maryland "O!!!".

This was truly the most fascinating part of the game. A crowd of teenagers with "Gate 11" t-shirts and sweatshirts who made up the cheering squad. This isn't just any cheering squad. These kids are clearly diehard friends who pour every ounce of energy into these games. I wonder if they ever do their homework. They were armed with flags, banners, and drums. This dorky kid with glasses in front was the ringleader. He held up his hand to single which cheer to do, and he coordinated two part cheers between the two sides of the section. I noticed at the end of the game that he had been holding the hand of that other boy the entire game. Why? I have absolutely no idea. Many theories though... I wonder how he got chosen for this job. Is there a rotation? Election? I think now in addition to my aspiration to have a kid who's the best crossing guard on the block, my kid should lead a pack of sweaty teenagers at Israel basketball games.

Living here is like being at camp.

It is like being at camp for a long, long time. And there's no visiting day every two weeks. No homemade cookies and care packages from home. Some days are exciting and fun while other days just make you want to run into the woods and hide... except there was always poison ivy, so that's not too fun. Supposedly people who, unlike me, weren't the lone Bostonian in an oppressive New York environment like Moshava made zillions of friends they would wait all year to see again. Though my guess is they didn't really realize what great friendships they had until they had been home for a few weeks, and when they would return the following summer I think sometimes they'd subconsciously realize that maybe ten months of distance was a good thing.

Living here is a much more positive camp experience for me. I have friends, though I have even better friends in the US. Every day when I get home I rush to my laptop to see what's going on with them and tell them the latest news in my life. Thank goodness for email and immediate communication. I don't know what I would do without it.

This is all, of course, entirely different. I am the family member anxiously wondering what's going on back home. And I'm the one who's going to visit in a few weeks and just by being there be worth so much more than a care package on visiting day. I will have a brief three weeks to do the most that I can to help keep things even the slightest bit under control.

Then there's the life I'll be leaving here while I'm away. Who am I going to miss? What am I going to miss? How anxious will I be to get back? Going back home will also mean leaving home. This is my main life now. It's not just a ten month stretch between summers. When I see my friends at Maryland will I be full of stories from Israel or will I dive back into their world and my life with them?

The next few months will be interesting. I've been here for six months, and in five weeks I am leaving for three weeks in the US. About ten weeks after that I will be returning again to the US for the summer so I can make money and, you know, afford to live. I have to no doubt that it will be both physically and emotionally stressful to bounce back and forth like that. I just really wonder what I'm going to miss, in so many ways and for so many different reasons.

I've been here for 6 months? No way.

Last night, in honor of Purim Katan and my 6 month aliyah anniversary, I co-hosted a party. Okay, lets all just digest that for a moment. I helped organized an event with lots of people in my apartment. Doesn't make sense to me either. Nothing too crazy happened. Except for the guy who asked when we were going to my room. And made comments about putting on his pants. And invited me to come over and get drunk and go home the next morning. Oh wait, those were all from the same person. (I said I wouldn't write incriminating things on facebook, not my blog.) I did enjoy myself, and not just at the breakaway party in my room. I'm not allowed to talk about that anyway. I'm always up for an excuse to wear my cape. Whacking people with my sword is fun too.

So while I had my usual party frustration of not being able to have real conversations with people I already only see once every three weeks or so, it was good noticing that I had actually become friends with most of the people in the room and actually felt at a loss for not getting to talk to them. It's a weird way of looking at things.

It was interesting to hear people's greetings about my 6 month aliyah anniversary. I got a few excited "HAPPY ALIYANNIVERSARY!" type of greetings, and then the somewhat more appreciated greetings of "I would say happy anniversary, but you know, we still all wonder what the hell we're really doing here." Along those lines, I was asked where I would be if I wasn't in Israel. My first thought is Georgetown or Silver Spring. I don't know how I would have ever afforded to live there (or anywhere for that matter), but I could have pretended I never really graduated college and not had to make new friends. Then I realized how weird it felt saying this to people who had recently become my friends. I will never have the same sort of "social happiness" I was extremely privileged to in college. I doubt I will meet too many people here who call me their BFF five minutes after meeting me. Then there's this weird feeling that when I become friends with someone here, it's like I'm indirectly replacing a friend back in the US who I might not see again for a long time.

Six months after boarding a plane that would take me to a whole new life, I still have really mixed feelings about this whole thing. I never for a second doubt my decision. There is no way I could ever ever ever doubt a dream I had for nearly ten years and then successfully fulfilled. So if any of you, anywhere, were wondering-- I don't regret a thing. And am I happy here? Depends. Ask me in five minutes and I might have a different answer. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe the most important thing I've learned in six months is to disregard anything anyone tells me about living in Israel and think things over for myself.

Thank you to everyone who came to celebrate with us last night. It was awesome.

Happy 4th Aliyah Anniversary, Sam!

And as a present- the coolest cake I have ever made.