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Showing posts with label akiva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label akiva. Show all posts

Welcome to Chu”l, and have a nice stay!

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If you ask an Israeli, there are two places in the world:  Israel… and chu”l.

Chu”l, like every Hebrew word with a “choopchik” (double-quote) in it, is an abbreviation.  In this case, it stands for חוץ לארץ / chutz la’aretz, or “outside of Israel.”  (Sounds like “chooool.”  Rhymes with “rule,” like the Golden Rule.)

And yup… that means, “every place in the world besides Israel.”

Because, you know, Israel is just so very, very big.  Kind of dwarfs the rest of the world by comparison, don’t you think?

Well, okay.  We know Israel is not very big.  But Israel is a tiny country with a HUGE ego.  A big sense of itself and its footprint in the world.  Not utterly unjustified, given its continuing prominence on the world stage, but still… sometimes, Israelis do push it a little.

This happened in ulpan once.  My teacher handed out a list of celebrities and we had to decide if they were “famous” or “famous only in Israel.”  Some were obvious, like Madonna and okay, Benjamin Netanyahu.  That was about it for famous Israelis.

I was trying to be honest, but I didn’t want to break her heart by telling her that for the most part, all the “famous” Israelis she’d listed  would be persona non grata if they showed up in Canada or the U.S.

Two great new reviews for “Welcome Home” – my husband’s aliyah book.

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I was shocked to see my husband’s aliyah book, Welcome Home:  My first six months living in Israel was getting lukewarm, and okay, a couple of frankly BAD reviews on Amazon.

There are some great ones, but some people sounded really disappointed.  Here’s why:  people expect books on Israel and aliyah to be Very, Very Serious books.

This is NOT a Very, Very Serious book.

If you want an Israel or aliyah book that’s going to reinforce your choices without laying some kind of heavy philosophical or spiritual trip on you, then you’ll probably enjoy his book, too. 

Wanna see something cool? (hint: it's a book, but it's not by me)

Welcome Home:  My First Six Months Living in Israel, by Akiva Teddy MacLeod

Know what this is?

It’s a book.  But more importantly, it’s OUR book.  Well… I will actually bow out here and admit that it’s my husband’s book.  All I did was edit the thing and write an intro. 

It’s like the difference between being a midwife and actually giving birth yourself.  The lines get blurred a little; you’re both exhausted and covered in goop by the end of the process, but ultimately, I must hand the credit back to him.

Here’s the book description:

How do you write a book about something as momentous as moving to Israel? One Facebook post, one bus ride, one limonana at a time.
In this remarkable journal of one family's transition to a new land, you'll see the daily side of the holy land revealed for all its laughter and tears.

Savouring the soil: exploring Kiryat Shmuel with Nefesh b’Nefesh Go North pilot trippers

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Talk about sudden transitions.  A year and a bit ago we were here on a pilot trip.  And yesterday, we stepped into the role of olim vatikim (experienced, or long-time olim) met and spoke with a pilot trip of 20 prospective olim coming to check out northern Israel. 

Our task, along with five other KShmu residents’, was to speak briefly about What We Like About Kiryat Shmuel.

I really should put the word “hosting” in quotes, because the event wasn’t at our tiny place, but in the lovely home of true veteran olim – a couple who have been here for 17 years and raised 5 kids in Kiryat Shmuel. 

Pit stop between Akko and Haifa

As part of a packed Nefesh b’Nefesh Go North pilot trip itinerary, KShmu wound up as one very quick stop on the journey between Akko and Haifa (which, okay, the whole Krayot region kind of is).

The highlight of the event was the 5-minute bus tour of KShmu, which left from our friends’ house and did a nice, leisurely figure-8 around the neighbourhood, ending at the train station – one of the area’s best features (having grown up in a suburb, I don’t count it as a strike against KShmu that one of its nicest attributes is that you can get out of it easily… but some might!).

It was great to get the bus tour… not least because nobody gave us a tour when we first moved in and we’re still trying to figure out where the library is.

On our own pilot trip, beyond the 3-day Nefesh b’Nefesh intensive tour, we got a couple of brief private walking tours (Maaleh Adumim, Ramat Beit Shemesh) and one private car tour (Rechovot), and I think it really made a difference in helping us get a feel for each city.

(Although in the end, we didn’t choose any of those places!)

Questions from the pilot trippers

The pilot trippers asked a variety of questions about life in KShmu:

  1. Does Kiryat Shmuel have its own ulpan?  (No, but the one in Kiryat Yam is very close.)
  2. Is there a Young Israel shul here?  (No, I think the only northern Young Israel is in Karmiel; there are a variety of shuls, but none with davening and/or shiurim in English.)
  3. What kinds of schools does KShmu have?  (A variety, for all ages, including dati le’umi torani, yeshiva-type schools and Chabad, plus a very active Bnei Akiva branch.  Many residents also choose residential schools for high school, either in the north or in the centre of the country.)
  4. What is there for Anglo retirees to do here?  (umm… umm…)
  5. How much do apartments and houses cost?  (It varies; from $250K and up to buy, from $600 and up to rent.)
  6. Where’s the nearest hospital?  (There are 3 in Haifa, including Rambam, a tertiary-care facility; plus, Clalit has the big Zevulun clinic a few minutes away beside the Kiryon mall; plus, there are good clinics of Clalit along with Macabi and others, in the area.)
  7. What are the work opportunities here?  (There are lots of medical-related jobs in Haifa.  For high-tech, jobs, you can either working from home, in Haifa, or in nearby communities like Yokneam… it’s also very easy to commute to other areas – I work one day a week in Herzliya, near Tel Aviv, and know somebody who takes the train every single morning to Nahariya.  I also know lots of olim who have found factory and other employment in the area.  Plus, you can always tutor English!)

All great questions, none of which I thought to ask when we visited communities on our own pilot trip.  Though, to be fair, others did a lot of the asking for me.

Apples to oranges?

I don’t know how KShmu stacked up against the other towns they saw. 

To be fair, a place like Akko, Maalot or Karmiel is a city, while KShmu is just a neighbourhood, and a small one at that (so small that when I talk to people who live in Haifa, I have to explain that yes, I do live in the same city as them, and tell them exactly whereabouts we are…).

I hope a few of them were able to see possibility in the place, in any event… or at least, not come away thinking we’re crazy for choosing to live here.

The pilot trip blur experience

On our own pilot trip, last February, we shlepped around from place to place, gathering information, but also meeting people, seeing the inside of Israelis’ houses for the first time (nicer houses than we’d be able to live in, but that’s mainly because of the logistics of fitting in a big group). 

Picturing ourselves living here every day of our lives.

You don’t have a lot of time for musing on a pilot trip.  You don’t have a lot of time for personal reflection… and if you do the group thing, you’ll spend all your time in an English-speaking Nefesh b’Nefesh bubble, not exactly feeling like you’re in the “real Israel.”

Separating terroir from trivialities

Most of the thinking I did on our pilot trip was influenced by small and insignificant things.  Like if someone had a nice painting in her house when she welcomed our group, or  they served tasty cookies, it counted (subconsciously) as a plus for that city. 

When you only have 20 minutes to decide if you’re going to live in a place, you can’t really pick up a ton of meaningful information, no matter how many questions you ask, so the trivialities take on a disproportionate significance.

But maybe as you walk from house to house, view to view, city hall to city hall, you soak up through your feet a little of the soil of each place, its terroir, as the French say [thanks to an astute French friend for fixing my spelling!].  A little of what makes it and its produce – in this case, the people living, growing and thriving there – special and distinct.

I don’t know if KShmu is right for any of the potential olim who were here yesterday, but I wish them and all pilot trippers a klita ne’ima, a pleasant absorption; sinking and being absorbed gracefully, and peacefully, into the dusty terroir of this eternal land.

[photo credit:  Akiva Teddy MacLeod]

Losing lashon hakodesh, gaining a language.

IMG_00004296 When you’re religious outside of Israel, especially if you’re a crazy baalas teshuvah like me, the language you speak is usually no longer English:  it’s a weird yeshivish patois of English, along with just enough Yiddish and Ashkenazi Hebrew to get by in the strange world of frumkeit.

You don’t pray, you daven.  You don’t say Grace After Meals, you bentsch.  And you never travel to Israel… you “visit eretz Yisrael.” 

  • Growing up Conservative, we had a rabbi.  As an adult, I had a rav and a poseik halacha, and no, they were not the same person.
  • Growing up Conservative, we went to shul.  Okay, that didn’t change.
  • Growing up Conservative, we took classes and studied.  As an adult, I went to shiurim and learned.
  • Growing up Conservative, we went to Hebrew school.  As an adult, I worked hard to learn as much of לשון הקודש / lashon hakodesh, literally the holy tongue, as possible.
  • Growing up Conservative, we had a great time.  As an adult, it was sometimes gevaldik, a mamesh heilige farbrengen.

Alright, maybe I’m kidding.  But here’s an example, from an article on Forward.com on How to Understand Yeshivish, of a passage that the author actually believed was written in English:

“The lechatchila time for shacharis is neitz. B’dieved, if a person davened from amud hashachar and onwards he is yotzei. In a shas hadchak he may daven from amud hashachar and onwards lechatchila…. After chatzos it is assur to daven shacharis. One should wait till after mincha and then daven a tashlumin. The possibility for a tashlumin doesn’t exist for someone who was bemaizid.”

Wish I were kidding.

This coming Pesach season gives us about a million more examples… starting with the word seder, which is used for everything from tidying your room to getting along with friends.

  • Growing up Conservative, we celebrated Passover and had no clue what Shavuot was.  If we’d known, we would have called it Shavuot.  As an adult, it became Pesach, and – of course! – Shavuos.
  • Growing up Conservative, we commemorated the Jews’ coming out of slavery in Egypt.  As an adult, it was all about bnei Yisrael marching from avdus to cherus – a foretaste of the geulah to come.
  • Growing up Conservative (with Reform haggadahs), we talked about the Exodus from Egypt.  As an adult, it became יְצִיאַת מִצְרָיִם / Yetzias Mitzrayim – with no gebrocks, of course.

Crazy baalei teshuvah!

Hebrew is holy, of course.  And using it marks frum Jews in chu”l as holy as well.  Special and removed from the mainstream – even from the Jewish mainstream.

When Elisheva was a little kid, I brought her to what would ultimately become our shul, The Village Shul, for the first time.  Affiliated with Aish HaTorah, its frumkeit credentials are impeccable.

Nevertheless, it has an unmistakeable “kiruv” (kiruv, not outreach!) bent.  And, hearing the rabbi speak about the “Jews” in “Egypt,” she turned to me and asked, “Mommy, is that man Jewish???”

It’s definitely true that the Hebrew words have different meanings, and I believe in many cases we should use them in English to reduce inaccuracies.  For instance, tzedakah has a totally different meaning from the English word charity.  Teshuvah, too, means return, and not repentance, as it’s so often mistranslated.  Even sin isn’t simple; there are several different kinds in the Torah.  And don’t even get me started on “leprosy.”

But here’s the thing that living in Israel has driven home.  If this is to be a living language, then these living Hebrew words must – to some extent – be stripped of their sacred nature.  To resurrect this thing and make it useful in daily life, we have to let go of the sanctity and all of those distinctions between holy and profane.

Yesterday, I caught Akiva looking up the word קַבָּלָה / kabbalah in the dictionary.  Apparently, he’d been in a store and when he left, they ran after him, shouting “kabbalah!  kabbalah!”

IMG_00004300Before yesterday, he thought Kabbalah was something only Madonna was into.  Now he knows that it also means receipt.

And by the way, on any given receipt, you could probably find any number of words that outside of Israel only exist in the context of great sanctity.

Welcoming guests, for instance, through  הכנסת אורחים/ hachnasas orchim… well, the word “hachnassa” by itself, in modern Hebrew, means income.

I’m always seeing words on signs or in newspapers that are very, very familiar, just from learning the siddur, saying Tehillim (Psalms) and other facets of religious life.  Except these words don’t mean what I think they mean.

Like how at Sukkos, we welcome Ushpizin, holy guests, into our Sukkah, but in modern Hebrew, the verb לאשפז / l’ashpeiz (from the exact same root) means to be admitted to the hospital.  It was a little tough figuring stuff out until someone explained it to me.

to hospitalize... or celebrate?

And that sacred Exodus from Egypt, the יְצִיאָה / yetzia that we dreamed of throughout 210 years of slavery (but who’s counting)…? 

Well, that’s just a plain old exit sign around here.

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Wishing you all a merry seasonal “exit” from the Holy Land!

Being a tourist in my OWN country!

Haven’t posted in a while because I’ve been busy.  With what???  Showing off this new homeland that I love so much to my sister, who’s visiting from Canada.

If you had only fourteen days in Israel (twelve when you subtract Shabbat), what would you see and do???  That’s the question my sister had to answer when she arrived at Ben Gurion two weeks ago today.

It’s hard to believe that almost a year ago (well, ten months), we were strangers here on a pilot trip.  My sister has been visiting for the last couple of weeks, which has given me a chance to do a bit of touristy stuff that I’ve really never had a chance to do – except this time, to do it as a real Israeli, kind of.

(Kind of because I gave my Canadian passport to the Arab-run hostel we stayed at in the Old City of Jerusalem… I think they’re Christian, but I was still nervous about what they’d do if an Israeli tried to check in.  More about the hostel later.)

So where did we go?

First of all, I actually wasn’t quite finished Ulpan (Hebrew-language boot camp) yet… my sister arrived a week before my final exam, so not exactly ideal timing, as it was the most intensive week of the entire course.  But I’m nothing if not resilient, and you can’t negotiate with holiday-season airfares.

Thursday:  Tel Aviv / Yaffo

abelish (2) My sister arrived on a Thursday morning, and didn’t want to just head north right away without experiencing a bit of the “merkaz” (central part of the country) vibe. 

I suggested that for the same train fare, we could spend some time in Tel Aviv and Yaffo (Jaffa) instead.  Well, she suggested Yaffo, which was a great call (apparently, she’d read up a little on the plane!). 

In Yaffo’s Old Port, we walked in the footsteps of Napoleon (kind of) and viewed a fascinating historical presentation / tour of an underground marketplace called Jaffa Tales.

Then, we headed to the shuk (market), not far away in the new city of Tel Aviv.  I don’t love the shuk in Tel Aviv; it’s bustling enough, but not much there is kosher.  Having said that, however, there’s a lovely bakery inside that makes the most luscious cheddar-cheese buns.  They’re not cheap, but I bought some to eat on the train back.

After that, plus a quick falafel break (my sister says this disproves my claim that there’s no kosher food around, but I really don’t count falafel stands), we hopped on a bus back to the train station.

This was the day of the big snow in Yerushalayim but Tel Aviv seemed completely unaffected and the day was lovely; brilliantly sunny and definitely warm enough for someone who’d just arrived from Toronto.  It was also Elisheva’s 18th birthday, so – after waiting 5 hours for a bus out of Yerushalayim – she joined us up north for an impromptu (read:  made by Ted/Akiva) birthday supper.

Friday:  Teveria

Okay, I admit – I didn’t want to travel anywhere on a winter Friday when Shabbos came in just past 4:00 pm.  So I sent my sister and Elisheva out to Teveria, thinking they’d have a grand old time seeing the Kinneret and whatever historical stuff is out there.  But no… it was a freezing, rainy, miserable day by any standard, even a Canadian one.  Everything there was closed and, oh, did I mention it was a fast day?  (the 10th of Tevet)  They came back frigid and miserable, but we had a nice cozy Shabbos together later on.

Sunday:  Haifa

My sister wasn’t really all that interested in seeing Haifa, but the weather – though chilly – had cleared up and I didn’t want to shlep around when there are some lovely things to see nearby.  I’m really glad we did.

abigail haifa (5)The day was full of firsts, even for a “veteran” (4 months) Haifan (well, Krayot person) like me.  After a quick Metronit ride into town, we rode the funky-weird Carmelit subway line (world’s shortest subway, only 6 stops!) up the mountain to the Bahai Gardens.

From the bottom of the Bahai Gardens (the free tour walks you down the stairs and lets you out near the middle of the gabigail haifa (16)arden, so it’s an easy walk the rest of the way down), we found a very unhelpful Tourist Centre in the German Colony (no kosher food, as I predicted – even falafel) where I noticed in a brochure that there’s a cable car ride up the mountain. 

The unhelpful, borderline-rude woman behind the counter directed us to take the Metronit to a certain stop for the cable car… at which point we found out that it was nowhere nearby.  We were also aiming to visit the Cave of Eliyahu (Elijah), which was also nowhere nearby.  So we walked… and walked… and walked…

abigail haifa (27)Finally, we reached the cable car, which looks a bit like a baseball hanging from a string and is run by several incomprehensible but friendly Arabs who mainly sit around eating lunch and pressing the button to make the cable car run.

abigail haifa (32)The ride was slightly scary, but we made it to the top, which opens onto a disappointingly dull monastery (Stella Maris).  There was no information or description of the site whatsoever, although a priestly type in a long robe offered us a choice of ancient mimeographed brochures in our choice of German or Italian.

After that dullness, we rode back down and noticed we were spitting distance away from Eliyahu’s Cave, so we stomped off there, despite Elisheva’s warnings that it was weird and tacky and boring.

It was all that and MORE!  The cave itself was decorated in the type of Rabbinic art-kitsch that one can find in many living rooms – pictures of rabbis and holy sites.  There are some historical things up on the walls as well, which do provide a little interesting background, but it’s not exactly a tourist site.

Just as we were giving up and getting ready to leave, a bearded man in a long robe (his was white) came in carrying a shofar.  He asked in Hebrew who we were and where we were from and if we had any special requests, and then offered a really lovely and long bracha, after which he blew the shofar (also long) rather dramatically. 

In terms of showmanship, I felt that the Jewish site had won hands-down.  So there, monastery.

Another quick Metronit ride (one transfer) brought us home, and I was glad to be so close to home at the end of the day.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday:  Eilat / Petra

In an effort to help me not fail the ulpan exam, my sister took off that night by herself via Egged overnight bus for Eilat and Petra, where she stayed until another overnight bus on Thursday night.

Shabbat:  Home

To celebrate my birthday, completing ulpan and sister’s visit, and to commemorate my father’s fifth yahrzeit, we had a small but nice kiddush here for some of the people we know who live within walking distance.  It was lovely.

Sunday:  Caesarea, Akko, Rosh HaNikra, Yerushalayim

I accidentally or on purpose told my sister I didn’t want to leave for Yerushalayim until Monday, so she booked herself a tour of the north on Sunday.  I was just in Akko during Chanukah and wasn’t at all interested in going again, so she left by herself early Sunday morning on a train to meet her tour bus in Caesarea. 

ABIsendpics (5) I stayed home and wrapped up some stuff here, then headed straight to Yerushalayim, where I met up with Elisheva and checked into the most bare-bones hostel you can imagine.

Let me first say:  I am NOT a fussy traveller.  I have stayed in hostels before in all sorts of places.  Thus, I am no stranger to bare-bones accommodation.  Yet I can easily, comfortably state that this hostel was the biggest dump I have ever stayed in.  It was pretty terrible, but over the course of 3 nights (and the sleeping wasn’t too bad), we sort of got used to it.  (Or is that what they call Stockholm Syndrome?)

The hostel is in a very Arab part of the old city, and its location (just inside the Jaffa Gate) is the only thing it really has going for it… well, that and the price, which was ₪70 per night (about $20) in an “8-bed” (ie 4 bunk beds) women-only dorm.  As I said, I presented my Canadian ID because I wasn’t sure how much they’d love having an Israeli staying on the premises.  Still, I felt secure and comfortable – especially the second night, when I had a second blanket and they brought another heater into the room in an effort to put down the chill.

After I checked into the hostel, I figured I had about 4 hours to kill (turned out to be more like 6), so I wandered the Old City, which was really kind of great.  I let myself get lost, safe in the knowledge that my trusty GPS would get me out if I was stuck.

ABIsendpics (24)I headed back to the hostel to change into warm evening clothes, and met Elisheva when her classes ended at 7.   Eventually, my sister arrived at the Jaffa Gate from her tour of the north.  We took her straight to the Kosel / Kotel where everybody said a little something and marvelled at its antiquity and sanctity… or at least at the ability to sit down for a minute after a busy day of touring.

Afterwards, we got dinner with Elisheva at a lovely if rather pricey Asian place (formerly Japanika, now called Sushi Bar, on Shlomtzion Hamalka, off Yaffo).

Sleeeeeeeep… I was so tired from all that walking.

Monday:  Yerushalayim

ABIsendpics (28) A full day to be a tourist in Yerushalayim; my dream come true!  Woke to the sound of prayer calls, church bells and Arab schoolchildren, and stumbled out of bunk bed to find the CityTour / Egged “Route 99” tourist bus, which – for a very reasonable ₪60 – tootles around the city on a two-hour route that shows you the most important bits of everything, along with the names of 300 miscellaneous neighbourhoods that nobody in a million years is ever going to remember.

ABIsendpics (32)After the bus tour ended, we had three hours to kill before the FREE (!) walking tour we’d planned for the afternoon, so I took her to Machane Yehuda (the Shuk / Market) for lunch.  My idea of lunch in Machane Yehuda is:  buy cheese, buy pita, buy iced coffee, wash somewhere, find a sunny bench, eat. 

Her idea of lunch was a little more complicated, and shifted halfway through the search to include a salad and pesto.  But eventually, we both had accumulated a variety of delicious things and we made our way back (for various reasons) to a bench outside the Old City to eat them all.

abitrip (6) - Copy  The walking tour was also two hours and it was GREAT.  It is literally FREE but they tell you up front that it’s nice to tip ₪10-15 at the end.  I figured if the tour was any good at all, it would still be worth it ($3-5?!?).  It was wonderful (and they only mention the tip thing twice – once at the beginning and once at the end, though they do plug some of the other tours they offer around the Old City; fair enough, I think). 

We got to see all four “quarters”abitrip (7) - Copy of the Old City and the guide was clearly very, very experienced, pointing out historic sites and sharing fascinating legends about every part of the city.  Way better than just walking around and trying to notice things on your own.

We both tipped him happily at the end of the tour.

Not wanting to call it a day just yet (even though it was almost dark already), we headed back to the hostel to change (days were hot; nights were FREEZING) and then out again to buy tickets for the Sound & Light Show at the David Citadel Museum. 

The show was a little hokey, and probably would have been more enjoyable at a warmer time of year, but still impressive.  They project images on the stone walls of the Citadel (which has nothing to do with David HaMelech, our tour guide explained), showing the history of Yerushalayim from the earliest times… in a slightly whitewashed and somewhat more peaceful, calm manner than I suspect things happened in real life.

After that, we got dinner – tasty, tasty Big Apple Pizza on Ben Yehuda Street, and marched back home to sleep, exhausted.

Tuesday:  Dead Sea & Masada

ABIsendpics (67)This was a packaged tour that I bought online, and it was good.  Just good, not great, but good is sometimes good enough.  Ditto with the guide:  not tons of fun, but he did a good job, and he was guiding and explaining as he drove our little van, which he did expertly and well.  My sister told me afterwards that he was holding a microphone; I didn’t see that at the time or I might have been more alarmed.  I assumed it was mounted on the dashboard.

ABIsendpics (59)This was really my first time seeing and  appreciating the quite-deserty desert that covers most of this country.  We passed the mountains where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered and they seemed – well, more mountainy than others I have seen before because they’re so bare – in the Rockies, mostly what you notice are the trees and forests.  None of that to distract you here.

We stopped at the Ahava Factory Outlet, which I assumed would be our only ABIsendpics (80)chance to buy Ahava products.  We both resisted, but it turned out there would be plenty more opportunities… the Ahava Company maintains quite a presence down there around the Yam HaMelach (Salt Sea, its Hebrew name).

Masada has never been high on my list of places to go.  I’m not sure how I feel about Jewish zealot groups hiding out from the Romans and their group suicide makes it a bit controversial that we continue to memorialize them.  ABIsendpics (87)Still – the views were breathtaking and I’m glad I went.  Happy we didn’t have to walk up like the many teenagers who were there with Birthright groups.  ABIsendpics (92)They have a lovely cable car, nothing scary like the one in Haifa.

Here we are, right up at the top!ABIsendpics (95)

The tour also stopped at the Dead Sea (Yam HaMelach), another one of my don’t-mind-if-I-miss-it sites, but it was interesting to feel the water – at first.  My sister brought a bathing suit, but I just took off my shoes and waded in a bit, swishing my hands around as I went. 

So this is interesting:  it turns out my entire skin is made up of a network of fine cracks that exist only for the purpose of letting in the sea’s deadly mixture of salt, sulphur and bromides to inside my skin, where they can inflict the most pain.

They did.  It was painful, almost right away.  I washed it off and it was STILL painful.  Later on that evening, my legs started to burn, and as I write this, two days and two showers later, they are still itchy from the “healing mud.”  Feh. 

Another one to chalk off the bucket list, anyway, and never worry about not having carped the diem.

Wednesday:  Yad VaShem, Home Again

I’ve been thinking of Yad VaShem (Holocaust History Museum) as sort of a flu shot.  It’s not that I WANT a flu shot, but it’s good for me and at some point every fall, I work up the nerve to get one.  Except that every time I’m in Yerushalayim, I have young kids in tow, and even Naomi is too young (kids under 10 are not allowed).

No pictures are allowed inside Yad VaShem, which is a very good thing.  The museum is free, and we declined to rent the ₪20 audio guide – figuring that a decent museum should explain itself to you.  (We may have been influenced in this snobbery by our mother’s background in Museum Studies.)

Despite this, there were about fifteen big groups making their way through the museum while we were there, blocking the exhibits with guides shouting out explanations of all the exhibits.  In the groups that included teenagers, many of the teenagers were wearing the audio guide headsets, listening to those along with their guide (simultaneously?). 

My sister thought this was ridiculously excessive and I agree – if so much work and thought has been put into the exhibits themselves, what good does it do to stand a bored guide in front of them to shout about it to the viewers?

Because of the clumping of the groups at the entrance to every room and in front of every key exhibit, it was  hard to pass through without getting a little annoyed.  And then, at the very moving exhibit of shoes taken from concentration-camp victims, an Israeli girl was giggling and pointing at them.  Sheesh. 

Still, annoyance fades somewhat as you pass through room after room of exhibits that are so overwhelming and painful and brilliantly-thought-out.  I was very much Holocausted to death (um, to coin an awful phrase) in Hebrew school as a kid, so I feel like I’m sadly inured to a lot of it… but at a few points it got through to me in a very moving way.

My phone started beeping loudly in the Hall of Names, which was embarrassing, as it’s meant to be a quiet place where you hear names intoned of victims of the Shoah (Holocaust).  Whoops – it was Elisheva, texting to arrange lunch.

After Yad VaShem, we made our way via Light Rail Train to the Merkazit (central station) to meet Elisheva.  Everybody got a salad except me – McDonald’s!  Elisheva said a big, passionate goodbye to her aunt, and then in a flurry of confusion, we boarded the 960 bus back to Haifa.

     abitrip - Copy (3)

It’s been an eye-opening couple of weeks, being a tourist here in my own country.  The Hebrew I’ve learned has been very helpful, and although not a “vatik” (old hand) here, things don’t feel as fresh and new and scary as they did when we were here ten months ago on that pilot trip.

Yet I think I’ve enjoyed showing my sister around so much because it’s all new to me as well.  My sister’s really the first relative who’s visited – hopefully, there will be more opportunities to guide future relatives’ “tours,” and perhaps those, too, will be full of firsts (still lots of places I haven’t been!)… but at some point, it may start to feel like a “been there, done that,” kind of thing.

For now, though, it’s all just a heck of a lot of fun.

What did my sister miss???  If you had only twelve days in Israel, what would be on your “can’t miss” list?

Going out for a tiyul… or am I?

image Every once in a while, here in the depths of ulpan (Hebrew boot camp for newcomers), I find a word so utterly baffling that I simply MUST let the world know of its bizarrity.  One of these words is… TIYUL (tee-ool / טִיוּל). 

I thought I had a handle on this word, really, I did!  It means outing, everyone knows that.  It’s not like we haven’t been on tiyulim!  Like our family trips and outings to places like Yerushalayim, Acco and Nahariya. 

So I was tootling along nicely until I came to this line in one of Ted’s readings from ulpan:  “I went for a tiyul in the backyard.”

Huh?  That’s not really an outing, exactly, is it?  And then I remembered that the boardwalk by the beach is called a “tayelet” (טַיֶּלֶת).  Indeed, there’s a whole verb to go with the word tiyul:  le-tayel (לטייל), which you can use to describe all the wonderful places you can take a tiyul to.

It turns out, when I wrote about what a lazy language English is when it comes to going places, that Hebrew has its lazy moments, too… and tiyul is definitely one of them. 

If you say you are going for a tiyul, you had better clarify quick (especially if your paycheque is involved!)… because you could be on your way to Europe, or the backyard, or Acco, or Eilat, or the mall.  Your front porch.  Really, anywhere.

Our shiny new dictionary, an Oxford no less, translates this word as walk, journey, excursion, trip, and outingGoogle Translate adds promenade, tour, hike, tramp, sightseeing, drive, and ramble.  Granted, it lists a few other words for some of these, but doesn’t dismiss the fact that any one of them can legitimately constitute a tiyul.  And Morfix, my favourite online Hebrew dictionary, has the chutzpah to add the word stroll to the list.

You definitely can’t stroll to Europe.

When I mentioned this to my teacher, the ambiguity of the word, she kind of shrugged, and then, actually laughed.  It’s true, and I think Israelis realize it.  They have loved this word to death and is so beloved that it has come to mean absolutely nothing.  You could be going to see the sea, the nearby dog park, or Machu Picchu, and you’d use the same word.

Think I’ll shut this down now.  Getting late; time for a tiyul to the bedroom!

Eyfo HaSherutim? איפה השרותים?

bathroom klalitFeeling like a savvy Israeli doesn’t happen for me very often. 

Today, I took a page out of Batya’s book (okay, blog) when we were out and about in Nahariya.  Strange city, ambling around having a good time with friends from our pilot trip… when Naomi Rivka announced that she needed a bathroom.

(we only took Naomi Rivka – GZ stayed home with Elisheva, yay!)

And I looked up, and like the chorus out of Life of Brian (if you haven’t seen it, you must), there was the local Klalit (they spell it Clalit in English) health clinic.  Using Batya’s rationale, we ARE Clalit members and thus, sort of, “customers” of theirs. 

I also knew that the closest public alternative was the bus-station bathroom, which would almost certainly be sub-par, and also, possibly, be available only for a fee of 1 shekel.  I learned this the hard way in Afula, where you hand over your shekel to an apathetic guy behind a desk who does NOTHING, and then enter the most hideously filthy bathroom which – for ONE shekel! – lacks seats.  It’s like a third-world country, except you’re paying for the privilege.

So… why be a freyer (sucker) if you don’t have to be???  Into the Klalit clinic we went, marched up to the front desk, and asked for the sherutim (literally, services or facilities).  The bathroom wasn’t great (actually required a bit of cleaning before she could use it), but it was free and there was soap, warm water and towels to wash up with afterwards.  (No hand sanitizer!  I have yet to see a health or recreation facility here with hand sanitizer.  Weird, since it’s practically synonymous with these places outside of Israel.)

Anyway, there isn’t much that makes me feel confident these days, but being able to find my kid a bathroom the INSTANT she demands one (it really did just appear there, like a mirage) is one heck of a happiness-booster. 

Oh, yeah, and then we stopped at a sandwich shop and I showed everybody the extensive sandwich menu so they could deliberate before I took a call.  And then… when I turned back a few minutes later, realized I was the only one in the crowd (two were just starting ulpan) who could actually read the menu.  Oops! 

We skipped that joint – too expensive, too complicated – and found a falafel / shawarma place that only had two choices (falafel / shawarma, and half / whole).  Thoroughly yummy!

While wandering around Nahariya, we happened to find delightful store we found in Nahariya called Gan Li / גן לי.  Okay, it’s true, I have a fetish for anything school related, but this is actually the first decent, comprehensive, school-and-art-supplies shop we have seen since we got here.

For months, we’ve been buying binders in one store, a hole punch in another, a filler paper at another, and pencils and pens somewhere else entirely.  Gan Li even had Akiva’s artist ink, and some decent markers he can use for drawing with.  And some cheap (₪9) no-name highlighters for Naomi Rivka and magnet pens for our fridge (₪5 each).  It’s not that the prices were so fantastic, it’s the fact that everything was all in one place that I found so very exciting!

image Oooh!  Ever a sucker for fun new card games, I bought the game Sleeping Queens (note:  links point to the English Gamewright version; the Hebrew one is licensed by FoxMind), for ₪40-something instead of the ₪60-something in the big chain bookstores.  But that’s a subject for another post…

All in all, a nice day spent with nice new friends in Nahariya.  And it was nice travelling home in comfort instead of sitting cross-legged on the bus all the way back (meandering every which way down the coast and through Acco) wondering where I’d find the nearest bathroom.  I’m Israeli; I already know!!!

Sometimes Blue

Sunny skies, birds chirping… an unseasonal heatwave… and here I am weeping in the stupid ulpan party.  Luckily, Ted was there.  And luckily also, it’s impossible to cry through “gangnam style.”  So I didn’t miss too much.

It’s not that we made a mistake coming here.  Let me rephrase that:  we didn’t make a mistake, coming here.  But we are very, very far away from the place we’ve always called home.  Sometimes, it’s impossible to get away from the feeling that you are way, way away from where you’re supposed to be.

Of course, I do believe that here is where we’re supposed to be.  Most of the time, that helps.

But when the list starts listing itself in my head of the people we’ve left behind… I’m sad.  I miss my mother, my sisters Sara and Abigail, even (a little) my brother, my Aunt Dorothy, Uncle Michael, Marilyn, beloved neighbour Judy, cherished friends (I could pretend I have too many to name, but ha ha ha – I don’t) Shira, Chana Beila, Sara, okay, there are some others, but I don’t connect with people well and I know that.  Friendly neighbours, shul acquaintances, and just all the people you smile at going up and down the street. 

Most particularly, most especially, most painfully, the little person I gave birth to 19 years ago, who hates to dance and sing with me at the best of times, but who nevertheless has been there for every Chanukah anyway, my entire adult life.

Listing them helps.  Quantifying the pain, touching the idea of each person in my mind, actually helps.  Maybe because when it first hits, the sadness of being apart from them feels INFINITE.  Like there are a million, a billion, a googol of them that I’ve left behind.  But still.  Of course, each person left behind is an infinity of ouch, but thinking of them, sending them little eGifts (which I know, usually mean “I don’t give a darn,” but from Israel mean, “I saved postage so I could send you a more valuable gift”), reminds me that even though the pain is real, I can bear it, get through it, and even still feel happier when I think of them and talk to them.

image The party itself was totally goofy:  exactly the kind of thing you do for a couple of years in kindergarten, and then never again.

We rehearsed a song (“Ner Li”), then stood up and sang it to the assembled crowd of all the ulpan students.  Ted was all nervous because he had two lines to say during his class’s performance, but my only solo task was translating the song into English (Also goofy:  “My candle, my candle, my thin candle.  On Chanukah, I will light my candle.  On Chanukah, my candle will glow.  On Chanukah, I will sing songs.”)

ulpanclassAnd then we sat down and enjoyed the rest of the show, which consisted of fully-grown people waving giant candles, dreidels (sevivonim) and generally having a rollicking good time.

Now we have a vacation for a week and a half, and after that, just over a week to prepare for the upcoming EXAM that concludes our Ulpan Alef (Hebrew Boot Camp) study.

And now, I’m feeling a little bit better – heading into the kitchen in a minute to wash dishes so I can make latkes and something chicken-y for our first night’s supper.  On Friday, when Elisheva comes up, I will make my regular chocolate sourdough sufganiyot, using the culture I brought with me from Canada…  a little taste of home, right here in our “pina ketana” (פינה קטנה / little corner) of the Holy Land.

One thing I’m trying not to do.  All my life, I’ve heard immigrants talking about life “back home.”  I don’t refer to Canada as “home,” even though it has been my home my whole life.  This is a conscious choice and a HARD choice.  It’s nice, easy shorthand… but I’m trying not to do it.  We are home.

Just in case you’re feeling blue, too – for wherever it is you came from, or whoever it is you miss – here’s a little taste of the Gangnam groove (caution – may contain inappropriate images, in which case, just flip the video into the background and just listen to the audio).  (Try it; it really is impossible to be sad while listening to it!)

And just to cancel out the secular bizarrity of that video, let me also throw one in with an Israeli tune that is wildly popular and yet also wildly spiritual, that odd Israeli mindset that even if you’re not religious, Hashem is looking out for you if only you believe He’s there.

Happy Chanukah to all my fellow Israelis who may be feeling at once at home and far from home, and to my fellow Canadians who are missing us this Chanukah.  You are missed like crazy.

Only in Chutz la’Aretz, you say? Pity!

IMG_00003194 There was a tea commercial a while back – for some Canadian brand (okay, I googled it, and it was apparently Red Rose Tea) – in which a Britishy voice tasted the tea and proclaimed, “Only in Canada, you say?  Pity!”

So you probably already know that there are a bunch of food things you can’t get here – or, if you can get them, they are a) so expensive and b) so inferior that it’s barely worthwhile.

That said, I want to jump in (thus interrupting my own post) to say there are far FEWER of those things than there used to be.  Used to be you couldn’t get decent toilet paper (not a food product, but bear with me), chocolate chips, tinned tuna, vanilla extract (okay, still no vanilla extract) and more.  Those are all easily available now, albeit sometimes at a slight premium.

Still – when it comes to one of our favourite sorta-healthy snacks it is pretty tough to assemble all the necessary ingredients… but not impossible, as the delicious smell from the toaster oven is proving as I type this.

Making nachos the way I like them requires three special ingredients:  nacho (corn) chips, salsa and cheddar cheese.  All of these are hard to come by, to different extents – but again, not totally impossible.

In this case, I found the cheddar at the shuk in Yerushalayim on Friday (yay!).   We served it sliced on Shabbos and Elisheva proclaimed it not wonderful, because she’s been spoiled by the sharp cheddar we got in Toronto.  I find it subtle but tasty.

Ted found the salsa (kind of expensive) in the “ethnic” section of a grocery store not too far away (yay!), and the chips were actually pretty much the normal price (three smaller-than-our-usual bags for ₪10, making it about $3-4 for the equivalent of a regular-sized bag) in a different grocery store (yay!).  They were hard to find, though, in case you want to feel sorry for us.

The one thing that’s still lacking is sour cream.  We have shamenet in the fridge, but it’s not exactly the same thing:  it has a bitter edge that I don’t really love yet.  Tasty enough when mixed into things, but it just isn’t sour cream, so for now, I’ll eat my nachos “naked” (except for the cheese and salsa), thanks.

IMG_00003195B’tayavon!!!

Ted’s Aliyah, Day 9

Again, this is not MY writing, it is the only-slightly-deranged musings of my very talented husband, Teddy (Akiva) MacLeod.  If you like his writing, check out his art (sort of!).

Day Nine – The Photo Essay of the Beach
So, you want photos? You want laughs? And DANGER?
Tonight’s post has all of that and more!

First, the funny part!
As you know, the kiddies and I usually finish the day with a quick swim as well as some serious sandcastle building (RE: photos)

By quick swim, picture me standing in waist deep water holding onto one or both kids as they are helplessly tossed around by the relentless waves of the Mediterranean Sea.

We call the big waves “The Baddies”, which come every 15 to 30 seconds and I love how the giant waves splash over the kids heads.

It like watching someone throw a bucket of water right into their face!

 

Let us pause and look at Naomi resting in the water with an endless beach behind her and the city of Haifa on the hills behind her (which you can't see because of the humid fogginess in the background) Oh yes, that is our apartment in the background on the left.

Where was I? Oh yes, getting hit in the face with a wave being like getting a bucket of water in your face! Hilarious and cruel all at the same!!!

CHECK IT OUT!

 

And now for the danger part!

 

Between waves, I do sort of cringe a bit feeling the undertow rush between my legs, and while holding onto Gavriel’s arm, watching his little body start pointing out toward the open sea.

Though I did a test today, of not holding on to the kids, and as I thought, the undertow did pull them a few feet away. But they would then stand up during the lull in the waves, run over to me and start “the funny game” all over again!

 

Hmmm, I’m not sure what is the dangerous part in this story is; the undertow itself or my willingness to test the survival of the kids in rough waters…

Ted’s Aliyah, Day 8

Again, this is not MY writing, it is the only-slightly-deranged musings of my very talented husband, Teddy (Akiva) MacLeod.  If you like his writing, check out his art (sort of!).

IMG_00002428 Day Eight – Wednesdays with a Touch of Madness

I’m sitting outside a bank in Haifa while Tzivia Jennifer MacLeod is inside trying to extract some money. Sure, she’s probably NOT having the happiest time in the world, but I think I’ve got it worst. Twenty feet away from me is one of those buskers playing away on his cheesy, 60’s sounding electric organ. While I don’t mind the kitschy sound itself, (in fact, I really enjoy it), the guy keeps playing “Spanish Flea” over and over and over again. I think it is the only song he knows how to play.

That, in itself, would be fine, except for a few odd elements to his playing.

So far, he has run through the same song about five times already and I keep waiting to hear the chorus to the song, which I am now convinced that he has no clue how it goes. Whenever it is time to play the actual chorus, he bridges off into some Russian song, or sometimes I suspect he just makes up a few bars of something that could almost be “The Girl From Ipanema”, but not quite.

And if you think playing the same song over and over could get monotonous, every few minutes, he will try to mix it up, by switching the organ from Brass Horns to Harp Strings or whatever settings he has, to make it sound different. This is what he calls changing it up??? IT’S DRIVING ME INSANE!!!

(So we figured how to get the money we desperately need right now, without having a bank account yet, by using the “InnerNet” to wire money from our Canadian bank accounts to the nearby Western Union office here in Israel. A temporary fix, but what a production!)

Ted’s Aliyah, Day 7

Again, this is not MY writing, it is the only-slightly-deranged musings of my very talented husband, Teddy (Akiva) MacLeod.  If you like his writing, check out his art (sort of!).

IMG_00002426 Day Seven - One Week Down, A few thousand more to go…
“Attention group of swimmers from the school trip!” said the Hebrew lifeguard on the beach this morning, “STOP pretending to be drowned and floating lifeless in the water, IT IS NOT FUNNY!”
How many times have I seen Israeli kids plop down in the water and act like this? More times that you would think, it must be some universal public beach joke that I don’t know about. Weird.
This morning I set out on my own (in a foreign, non-English speaking country) to exchange that broken fan from yesterday. I took the same 59 bus, so getting there was no problem. When I got to the “electricity store”, with my head full of possible confrontations that I would be expecting for having the gall in trying to return a broken item, I set the fan down on a counter and waited for someone to notice me. Yeah, I know, such un-Israeli behaviour. Nevertheless, I immediately spoke to a nice clerk at the store in English and quickly exchanged the fan for a new one that typically of this store, would be ready for pickup TOMORROW. Oh well, at least I didn’t have to shlep to a service center.
After this easy task, I walked next door to a huge grocery store to see what was what in the world of different groceries. I found some old favs like Helman’s mayonnaise and Nutella on sale, so I picked them up so we would have some “comfort items” in the house. The meat selection was pretty good, although frozen salmon was so expensive. Like 60 – 70 shekels each, which is more than $20. Fruit and veg were extremely cheap, but I was puzzled that I couldn’t find ANY macaroni and cheese for the kids.
I ran into Tzivia and the kids at the local market after my bus ride back and we swung by a park on the way home. Right beside the park was Naomi’s possible Grade three classroom for the next few months. I thought it looked nice and had a little girl feel to it, although Naomi didn’t think much of it.
Once home, Tzivia immediately went out shopping as well as to enjoy a bit of kid-less freedom, while I planned to take the Littles down for their daily beach run. Just as we were ready to go, there was a knock at the door. A new OLIM (immigrant) named Eva had just arrived today and didn’t know anyone who spoke English, so the social worker downstairs, Nitsie (I think her name is) brought her up to chat. I talked for a bit and then invited her to come back at 6:30 for dinner, remembering how nice it was when someone made dinner for us on arriving in Israel last week.
So we went swimming and when we returned, Tzivia also arrived with raw chicken for tonight. We cooked it up in a home-made white wine sauce (wine is cheap here, but cooking sauce is expensive, go figure) and had Eva over for dinner. Eva’s story is a bit different than ours. She is from New York and is here to go to school, taking Nutrition courses or something, and is more interested in touring the country and making friends. Making friends, please… young people…
Okay good-night everybody! I’m going to taper off these notes a bit after this week because I need to concentrate of finding a job now, (ugh!), so I am going to redirect these creative energies a bit. I will now only be writing the really interesting stuff that happens from now on, such as the hassles we've been having all week trying to open a bank account before our on-hand money runs out, yikes!

Ted’s Aliyah, Day 6

Again, this is not MY writing, it is the only-slightly-deranged musings of my very talented husband, Teddy (Akiva) MacLeod.  If you like his writing, check out his art (sort of!).

IMG_00002407    Day Six – Fanning the Flames of Anger
“ATTENTION ALL SWIMMERS!!!” said the Hebrew speaking lifeguard over his bullhorn, ”the black flags we put on the beach means it’s too dangerous to swim in the water!! Don’t any of you idiots get it?? TOO DANGEROUS!!!!! Aww, forget it…” (At least that is how I translate what they are saying)
Yeah, I just read this pamphlet about swimming in Israel and how there are white, red and black flags indicating various levels of danger. All this time, the kids and I were swimming between the red and black flags because we thought that is where the lifeguards were most intently watching us.
IMG_00002413So we took the kids down to the Camp they run here in the building for all the kids. For today’s project, they were making a large six foot sailboat out of a wire frame, newspapers and paint. A little ambitious, I thought, but you know what? The kids were really into it and I started to see how this could be an ALL DAY activity that would keep the Ethiopian Jewish kids busy. (Tzivia reminded me that they are not just Ethiopian kids, they are also Jewish. Good point.) The IMG_00002417Russian Jewish teacher started to nickname Gavriel “Gavi”, which he didn’t seem to mind and Naomi really enjoyed the focused, non-verbal group activity with the other little girls.
After lunch, we took the 59 bus over to a nearby plaza where Tzivia had ordered a fancy, new fan from one of the many electrical stores there. I think the store was called “Big Electricity”. Anyway, Tzivia got all excited when she spotted an IKEA sign nearby, which we found out later, would open in another six months. We got the fan and had to leave quickly, to avoid a toy store the kids wanted to stop at. As a result, the kids also missed out on getting a treat from the store that we promised them.
IMG_00002416 IMG_00002415 I took Gavi home while Tzivia and Naomi got off the bus to do a little grocery shopping. Once home I thought I would be awesome by starting to put together the fan together before my dear wife got home. I actually had most of it together when she arrived. The grand moment was when I turned on the fan and it rattled a strange thin whirring sound from the motor.
“Are you telling me you didn’t test the motor before putting it all together?” I admit that I still had that North America faith in consumer products that actually work when you bring them home. Oh, I have so much to learn. I didn’t realize this, but you can’t return items to the store you bought them back in Israel. They won’t take them. You have to go to a specific company service center to get it fixed, which I have to do tomorrow. Ugh! You can say this little situation caused some testiness this afternoon!
At six-thirty, I took the kids for our ritual, before supper swim, this time staying on the safe side of the red flags. The kids had asked their mother if I would buy them a Popsicle after swimming and I was surprised that she agreed. (They missed out on a treat at the plaza…) So after a bouncy swim, (Were the waves a little higher tonight or am I now paranoid?), we stopped at the beach bar where they serve food, booze and a crazy array of Nestle popsicles and ice-cream bars. The kids picked a Popsicle that comes with a toy inside and we raced home for supper, followed by a Popsicle dessert.
And now I sit here waiting for the kids to stop whispering in their bedroom and go to sleep.

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