Travel log take 1

I suppose the next five weeks of my life do not directly connect to my aliyah experience, but seeing that I am visiting so many places and doing so many things I can't help but report on them. And besides, I am on a plane three hours from Chicago and, get this, there aren't individual TV screens. That's right-- in the course of a just over ten hour flight they showed two movies on public screens, neither of which I had any interest in seeing, and then that's it. Luckily the plane is practically empty and I have three seats to myself. Thanks to three pillows and two blankets I managed to get a little rest (thanks to pulling an allnighter last night... though I'm not entirely convinced it will help with the jetlag).

To back up a bit, I have learned some lessons about international travel. I used to fly all the time. Baltimore-Washington International Airport was like a second home, especially that time I got stuck there for eleven hours. I flew in and out of there at least a dozen times a year. I could time exactly when to get there keeping in mind bus times, walking to the terminal times, and security lines. I had it down perfectly. Except for the one time I messed up and got stuck for eleven hours. I thought by now I had Ben Gurion figured out pretty well too. Lines are long, Israelis are crazy, but hey, I've done this so many times before, right?

Wrong. Apparently nearly all the flights to Europe leave between 5 and 7am. And apparently Thursday is the most popular day to fly. Or maybe it was just today. But school is starting next week so where are people going? Needless to say the airport was a mess this morning. The first phase of security/check-in went okay, but then I was in line for the counter for over an hour. I got into this line at 4am. My flight was at 6:05am. You do the math. Thank goodness for those extra five minutes. And as if you can even call what I was standing in a line. It was mayhem. There was lots of yelling. There was a group of Ya Ya Sisterhood type women in front of me and they were happy to report to each other that most of the yelling and fighting was coming from French people and not “our own” as they said it. Finally at maybe 5:25 I arrived at the front of the line. Should be straight forward at this point, right? Wrong again. A year in Israel has taught me that nothing is straight forward. The clerk was confused about my teudat maavar (temporary passport-- I am not yet eligible for a real one). So she had to call up some supervisor and ask him about it. The clock was ticking. She told me to run. Duh. No McCafe fries for me this trip.

I ran. Then came passport control. Hurray, I'm an Israeli citizen, maybe my line will be shorter! The lines were all about the same length and pace. But then... I was two away from the front of the line when, excuse my language, wtf!? The sign above the booth switched from “Israeli Passports” to “Foreign Passports” which is apparently what it was supposed to be. Grr. Switched lines, more running. I know it was around 5:45 when I was in that line and I had to be boarded by 5:50. I made it. I squished down into my typical El Al plane middle seat and was so exhausted and stressed out that it took me ten minutes to notice some check-in sticker that got stuck to my leg. It was a short flight to Rome. I think I slept for most of it. I honestly don't even know how long the flight was. I think it was supposed to be four hours, but maybe it was three. This led me into another problem. I arrived in Rome and had NO idea what time it was. And there weren't any clocks ANYWHERE.

I do not recommend flying through the Rome airport. I think I don't recommend flying through a country where English isn't the main language, but there were enough Israelis and Americans around with the same looks and exclamations of utter confusion that we all figured out where to go. Or at least wound up in the wrong place. The airport is a series of random monorails and unclear instructions on where to go. My flight to Chicago was at 10:55, but the departure board was only listing flights up until 10:50. Great. Finally found security, made it through, then had to take a second monorail that I think went back where I came from. Once there it was completely unclear where to check in again. All the other airlines had semi-clearly marked counters but not American Airlines. And again, I had no idea what time it was and how long I had until my flight. So I stalked the gate, which I by then found the location of, and eventually I noticed a small line forming in front of an unmarked screen but there was someone behind the counter doing something that looked useful. Finally checked in and found out that I had about fifteen minutes until boarding time. Phew.

You can imagine the look of horror on my face when I discovered the lack of individual screens on the plane. We're so spoiled these days. But I have my three seats three pillows and two blankets and the food and service have been decent. About two and a half hours to go until I land in Chicago. Once there I have to figure out how to get where I need to go. That will be fun. Thus my adventure begins...

(This post was finally posted to the blog at 9:30pm Chicago time after an eventful trip to the North Side with my taxi driver who didn't speak English which didn't help with the unclear directions. But a Ken's Diner dinner later and lots of catching up later all is well!)

Cousins!

Last night was my cousin Chava Levine's wedding. Chava's dad and my dad are first cousins, and there are a slew of second cousins that I barely know, have only met once, or haven't met at all. Last night was a real treat. One cousin tapped me on the shoulder because she recognized me from FOURTEEN YEARS AGO. Okay, and she saw me on facebook, but still. It's really great having so many cousins around my age and I hope to get to know more of them better.

Look at me! Over here!

In light of hearing about the NBN Bloggers Convention and general blog talk I was wondering who reads my blog and how often. Still tinkering with the stalker software for that one, but I was able to find two blogs that mention mine. My blog comes up in two very different contexts. In one blog, as part of a post about the Mercaz HaRav attack, my post about the tragic event is mentioned as being moving. Definitely a compliment, though I wish it came under better circumstances. The other is from a blog that seems to have just been started by someone planning on making aliyah next summer. I am unsure of whether she is using my blog for humor or inspiration. Or both. Again, not sure how healthy it would be to be inspired by my blog but I chuckle at the thought.

My roommate mentioned that many participants in the Bloggers Convention were invited because they often mention Nefesh B'Nefesh in their blogs. I don't think it comes up too often in mine. Many of the events I talk about are sponsored by Nefesh B'Nefesh, but I wouldn't want anyone to think that the organization should be held responsible for my social "misfortunes" and other Katamon scene adventures (good and bad... don't think it's all bad).

So besides now mentioning Nefesh B'Nefesh and in particular the Bloggers Convention a couple times, which are apparently commonly searched topics, here's another thing that might grab me a few hits. WWW.FRUMSATIRE.NET The author of this blog, the infamous Heshy, is currently visiting Israel. I say infamous though supposedly most people don't know this real name. I guess not everyone has a roommate that a shadchan tried to set him up with. Well, at least the guys who for the most part have male roommates will not know Heshy through this type of fame. Anyhow, after finding out that Heshy came along with someone to my aliyah anniversary barbecue last week and connecting the dots in my head about who he was (though we didn't speak at all and he probably was not even aware that I was one of the hostesses) I went to his premier stand-up comedy act at the Off the Wall Comedy Club in town. I had a lovely time and was consistently amused, especially about things like stories of his "shidduch phonecalls" of which I had the joy of hearing a girl's side of one.

Lisa and I smiled proudly when our barbecue got a shout out in the act. Apparently Heshy thought Katamon people were nice people and had a good time (we apologize for the lack of condiments). Glad that we were less scary than the Nachlaot crowd, but they're a different species altogether. I had read FrumSatire in the past... well really just when I was stalking Heshy to figure out this potential shidduch situation... and looking at it now it's funny how similar my blog is sometimes. His is more about New York singles life; mine is about Katamon. And wow, I should read it more often. Makes Katamon seem not nearly as scary.

Okay, now I want people who came across this post who haven't seen my blog before to leave a comment telling me how they got here. Come on, just for kicks.

One Year Aliyah Anniversary

I can't let this occasion pass without posting a blog entry. And what I felt about my one year aliyah anniversary when I anticipated it a couple months ago is the same that I feel now. I have no big insights to share. The same things are stressing me out and many challenges have yet to be overcome. I am also grateful for the same things things-- feeling at home here, making new friends. Last night my roommates and I, along with Lily who was also on my flight (and her puppy Leo, but he just provided entertainment) hosted a barbecue at the park outside my apartment. Well over 100 people were invited and despite several other events last night (and the fact that I invited some US friends just for fun) a good chunk of those people came. And they brought lots of stuff. I really felt that people came because they wanted to celebrate with us.

I've had my usual sour responses when people have made comments like "Hope next year is as great as the first" or "So I guess in the end things really worked out." I stand by my comment that this year sucked. There was really nothing that could save it from being positively stressful and traumatic. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe it was harder than I thought it would be, but it was part of the process and I was able to accept that along the way. Things went really well for me. I gradually built up a clientele of families for babysitting, I got accepted to a small supposedly competitive program at Hebrew U, and yes- I definitely made plenty of friends. As cynical as I get those things will never be overlooked by me.

Next week I'm leaving for a five week trip to the US. I am starting off in Chicago to celebrate my sister getting her PhD. Next I'm off to San Francisco for about 36 hours and visiting a good friend in Santa Clara. Then it's an 11 hour train ride along the coast to Los Angeles. There I will visit a friend from Newton, friends from college, and one of the cutest kids I ever babysat for who was in Israel this past year. Hopefully one of those days I'll visit another friend in San Diego so I can go to the zoo. Only then will I be flying into Boston to spend more time with my parents, grandma, friends, and neighbors. Doesn't end there-- a week later I'm taking a train to Philadelphia to see my other grandma and of course, going down to Maryland and DC for a Friday adventure with Shira, shabbat with my sister in her new home, and hopefully lots of ridiculous fun in College Park.

I can't believe a year has gone by. I remember receiving confirmation of my flight day and then teaching a lesson about aliyah to my Hebrew school students 100 days before my take-off date. I remember landing in Ben Gurion with Lisa to throngs of flag-waving family, friends, and total strangers. The next day I opened the bank account I still have serious issues with and after that set up the medical insurance account I have taken advantage of way too frequently this year. I'll never forgot my first Nefesh B'Nefesh event where I hardly knew anyone and was totally freaked out by the scene. I am still freaked out, but now the people who freak me out are good friends, so it's all okay. Ha, I can think of so many people who will manage to be offended by that.

I've said that the success of my social life here will be determined by how much I miss people when I'm away in the US. In college there were always fun anecdotes to share. Now I realize my parents don't even really know the names of anyone here. I hope that changes soon. Really I know it will. Well, hopefully they won't know about everything... But anyway, in April I was anxious to get back. This time I'm just excited about my California adventure. Maybe it would have been different if I did something like this in April, I don't know. But when I'm staying in a random youth hostel in San Francisco talking to total strangers I know it's the friends here I'll probably be talking about. Anyway, they're really such fascinating creatures.

I guess I won't say "I hope for many years as good as this one" but I can say that I am truly looking forward to this next year and the rest of my life home in Israel.

9 Av 5768

Last year I had a lot of trouble "getting in the spirit of Tisha B'Av." I was about three weeks shy of making aliyah and was caught up in the wonders of "v'shavu banim" and "reishit smichat geuloteinu." I was thinking about it these past couple of days leading up to Tisha B'Av this year and I realized something that seemed a bit silly at first. As much as Bnei Akiva and Camp Moshava brainwashed me into making aliyah, they also did a sort of "Tisha B'Av brainwashing."

For the first five Tisha B'Av days for which I was old enough to at least semi-grasp the significance of the day (ages 10-14) I was on a Jewish program, the first four years being my summers at Moshava. For the weeks leading up to Tisha B'Av all we would hear about is senseless hatred and the other horrible sins that led to the destructions of both Temples, the trauma of losing the Temples, and all the terrible things that followed. At the same time they would work in the words "make aliyah" to everything from dancing on shabbat to art projects to long hikes. Don't ask me how they did it, but they did, and apparently it worked.

So for four summers I got these mixed messages: Everything was destroyed and it hasn't been the same since and we enact this suffering by eating eggs dipped in ashes (no one seems to do this in Newton, MA) and sitting on upside down benches for davenning. However despite these feelings of lost, we need to sing and dance and shout "make aliyah!" over and over because redemption is coming and each and every one of us is going to join the Jewish people in Israel, right now, or the second camp is over, or after graduating from college when you realize that even ten years later the brainwashing has still stuck. (The first letter of my Nefesh B'Nefesh essay? "I've been brainwashed.")

I guess it is no surprise then that once again this year, now that I am coming up on a year since aliyah, I feel the same challenge of feeling depressed on this day when every other day I work so hard to see the beauty and accomplishments of this country. I joked to my roommate that for the nine days what I really should avoid instead of the usual lashon hara (as was instructed to me at camp) was saying anything bad about Israel. The spies did it and didn't do any good for them, but it's just... so hard! There is so much to complain about! And on the other hand, I feel that there is so much to celebrate about the country in general and my life here. It's still like that first post-Jewish program Tisha B'Av when midday, as the hunger set in, I thought to myself, "Okay, so now what?" I still have about three more hours of the fast so maybe I will achieve some sort of understanding for what's missing here. It amazes me every year how, for lack of a better word, helpful the kinot are generations after they were written.

One more thing that's on my mind last week... August 6th/ 14 Av mark ten years since my Papa Harold passed away. He died while I was away for my final summer of Moshava. Those of you who have known me for awhile know that that event positively turned my life upside down and nothing as been the same since. It is hard to think about everything that has happened between that summer (the final summer of Bnei Akiva brainwashing) and this summer, my first as an Israeli citizen. My grandfather was a quiet person. He loyally picked me and my siblings up from school every Friday and attended every school play and Karate presentation. They were usually followed by a smile and quick hug and kiss. Words weren't necessary. He was always quietly rooting for me. Every summer I would leave camp with it set in my mind that I would one day make aliyah. I'm sure I shared these thoughts with Papa Harold at some point and he probably smiled quietly and offered to make me chocolate milk. Silly brainwashing.

So many things I should have never seen at the Jerusalem pool

As part of my snazzy summer job babysitting for a 4 year old girl whose family was here for the summer I got to spend several mornings at the Jerusalem pool on Emek Refaim. I always knew this pool existed, but until I saw it, I never imagined how huge and nice it could be. The facilities are amazingly clean, there is a nice grassy area, and plenty of comfortable plastic lounge chairs. Especially considering the entry fee, it is the closest Jerusalem might ever get to a country club. There were, however, many horribly disconcerning things I witnessed throughout the past five weeks ranging from pool safety (or lack there of), poor parenting, and... well, you'll see. Or lucky for you you will not have to see, just read.

1) The lifeguards are generally not anywhere near where the kids are playing. They are either chatting with their friends, smoking, eating popsicles, or yelling totally inaudible instructions into a megaphone.
2) Parents don't seem to actually care about their children's safety.
3) There should not be smoking at a pool like this. Ever. Especially next to the toddler pool.
4) I understand people interpret bathing suit fashions differently but bikinis should not be made for anyone too young to fill them out and those who fill them out a bit too much should perhaps make a different choice.
5) Guys have it easy. It's like buying a pair of shorts. So why did so many guys have bathing suits barely staying on their hips?
6) You do not have to wear underwear or boxers under a bathing suit. It sort of defeats the purpose. I'm just confused.
7) Okay, maybe it was a bit funny watching the teenage girls try to figure out how low down they could wear their bathing suits though not so practical to make these adjustments while on their way to riding down the waterslide.
8) What was the parent thinking while waching their child pull down his bathing suit and urinate directly into the pool? Thank goodness for chlorine.
9) The changing room reminded me of my first experience in the Filene's Basement fitting room... but it was so much worse. I just don't understand how anyone can feel comfortable wandering around naked like that. Didn't they go to sleep away camp and learn all the tricks?
10) An old man changed out of his bathing suit right next to the pool. Yes, that's right, he wasn't even in a changing room. Just right there by the pool, in front of everyone. I don't get it.

I'm so grateful that I was with such a well-behaved four year old girl who spent hours streaking naked through her apartment but at the pool usually chose a changing room or bathroom stall to get in and out of her bathing suit (and made very audible comments about all the naked old ladies).

Btw, I would have taken a picture but hate to think what I would have caught in the background.

In other news, there's a group of guys on my street singing very loudly. Considering it's Av I can't imagine what it's all about but... oh Jerusalem, gotta love it.

banks

My friend Mia made aliyah this week. It was incredibly exciting for so many reasons... having a good friend in the country, getting to pinch Mia's cheeks. But what really made me happy was when she changed her facebook status to "Mia hates banks." Oh, new olim and the challenges they will encounter!