Tonight finds me on another eve of war and another post writing about feelings, thoughts, reactions, etc. I'm sure it's also interesting/fascinating/scary for y'all to read, and I hope that none of you will be in a situation such as this. With that being said, let me quickly recap what is going on.
On June 12, three Israeli teens were kidnapped in the West Bank as they were hitchhiking home from school. The kidnappers, still at large, were Palestinians affiliated with Hamas. The search for the three teens went on for almost three weeks and ended, very sadly, in the discovery of their bodies in a field north of Hebron. It's a horribly tragic story that I'm not going to get into here. Any of you are welcome to email me if you're really interested in some further reading or discussion: turner.megane@gmail.com.
After this, a group of Jewish extremists, according to the arrest reports and confessions from the group, kidnapped a Palestinian teen and burned him alive. I'm at a loss for words and don't even know how to continue typing this post. I'm am horrified and sickened and angered by this. This heinous and cowardly act devastated a family and arguably set off a very nasty escalation that has me hypervigilant and with flashbacks of traumas past. Riots are ongoing around the country and rocket attacks are frequent and terrifying (that is, in many parts of the South...in Be'er Sheva, we've had two different rounds of rockets so far as opposed to 60 rockets that fell in less than an hour all around Southern Israel about three hours ago). A rather significant and nasty riot happened last night outside of the small Be'er Sheva suburb that I'm calling my safe haven for this go-round. Bedouins protested and rioted in the street at the entrance to the city, throwing Molotov cocktails and rocks at cars. People were hurt and property badly damaged. A friend of mine was traveling back along this route and called the police to ask if it was safe to pass through. Their response - do a U-turn and go back because we have lost all control there.
What. Is. Going. On?!?!?
And, of course, those powerful and chilling air raid sirens are becoming a frequent part of our lives again. Saturday evening, after reports of rockets gradually getting deeper into Israel and closer to Be'er Sheva, it was show time. We heard the sirens and quickly got into the safe room (I'm with my boyfriend's family). Someone told me that the second time you go through it, it's easier. I'm not so sure, because I have found myself shaking and crying and tensed ever since. You wait and wait for that siren (I've been waiting for a year a half, always monitoring, always looking, always thinking about where to run...gotta love trauma), and then your fears are confirmed with a piercing, gut-wrenching wail. I was at home today between a physical therapy appointment and teaching a dance lesson when I got caught off guard. I almost broke the dog's neck as I yanked him through our front door and down the stairwell. We don't have a safe room in this new apartment, so down a few flights of stairs has to do. I have been on edge ever sense. Afterwards, I had to drive to my various lessons (which, by the way, I passed my Israeli drivers' test and now have my Israeli license), and I was confronted with the thought - what do I do if there's a siren while I'm driving? Yes, we're told to pull over, exit the car, try to find shelter, and if not, lay on the ground and cover your head. Great, but how do I execute this with all the batshit crazy Israeli drivers? What if there's no room to pull over? I have to remember to lock the doors, since a lot of cars got stolen last war...and all while figuring out where I could run to at every turn. At one point, I got so tired of these racing thoughts, I just shut my brain off and drove. That is the most "Israeli" moment I have probably ever had. Just letting it all go. Can I change it? No. Can I live my life in a small concrete bomb shelter? No. I can, however, go about my daily life while be smart and safe. And that, in and of itself, is scary for me.
With all of that said, I'm trying not to look at the news as much, as per advice of a dear friend and veteran Israeli immigrant from America, because why do I need to mess myself up anymore psychologically? But I also can't shake the texts and emails and phone calls from America. I know everyone is worried sick and is only getting news of the big picture while I'm just in a little sliver. And I can't help but feeling so naked, so bare after these attacks. After the attacks on the three Israeli teens. On the Palestinian teen. The riots. The rockets. I'm left feeling so empty and so confused about how to reconcile all these thoughts with the reality that I have in my head of my adopted home. I suppose this is part of the reality, but perhaps, it is a part I am not yet ready to accept.
More to say and more to update, but I've got to try and get some sleep before the madness truly begins. Wishing all those in this area of the world quiet and calm. Love and peace to everyone involved, not just to my fellow Israelis.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Driving in Israel
Well, I have to get around somehow, right? Actually, not. I have my bike and the public transit system here is pretty dreamy, but I have put in my fair share amount of time behind the wheel here in my new home. And let me tell you, it's a different animal...so, how's about I share with you my humorous and infuriating observations?
We drive on the right side of the road, just like in the good ole USofA, so no difference there. Israelis typically start driving from 18 years of age and up, some not getting their license until after they've completed the army, putting them closer to age 21. The process of getting this coveted license is quite pricey, too. The average Israeli needs about 28 lessons that cost about $25 a pop. Now, if you're especially bad, you will need more lessons, and that is all up to the driving instructor. After you've completed your lessons, you have to run through a ton of bureaucratic bullshit to get your paperwork ready for the test. This is where I jumped into the equation, since I have 14 years of driving experience from the US. Then, you must schedule a test with the DMV and pay about $125 or more for the test. I'm still waiting for my test spot...hopefully that will come soon. Most native Israelis I have talked to failed their first test, even the competent ones, as it seems that this is an easy way for the DMV to make more money. However, I have heard and I pray that new immigrants are given an easier time and are usually passed on their first try, notwithstanding any major issues within the test.
You would think that with all this time and money invested in driving lessons and testing that Israelis would be excellent drivers. I sadly must share with you that this is not the case. An Israeli's driving habit directly mirrors their character - loud, brash, dominate, and will do anything to get ahead. People scream, people honk, people cut you off, and this is all just part in parcel for the ride on our fair streets here.
Now, for some differences. First of all, if a street has two or more lanes DON'T EVER drive in the far right lane. While it is a lane of traffic, it almost always turns into a row of parking spots, as well. No signage, no warning, just suddenly, a line of cars blocking your way.
Second, we have traffic circles here. No four-way stops. My theory is that Israelis just wouldn't have the patience, but a recent episode of Myth Busters also explained that traffic circles are also more efficient. Which is definitely what our short-tempered culture needs. Check out the MB experiment here.
Also, be careful because there are no right turns on red in this country! I learned this the hard way when I almost gave my dear friend, Artur, a heart attack by turning right on red. Even if no one is coming, it's still illegal. If you can turn right, there is a separate, designated lane that leads you into traffic. Oy va voy if you break this rule!
Gas prices are also drastically different. At about 8 shekels a liter, we pay dearly for our gas. With the current exchange weight much more in the shekel's favor and the conversion of liters to gallons, that's about $10 a gallon, friends. We definitely consider if we can walk or take a bus or a bike before we just hop in the car.
Don't be afraid to honk, because you will get honked at back! I feel oftentimes like I am corralling a heard of cows while I'm driving, politely giving a few beeps to warn another car not to sideswipe me as he swerves chaotically through traffic or as a pedestrian hastily tries to cross the road (often illegally, as well). Gotta be on your p's and q's otherwise, you're going to get hit.
Lastly, Israeli parking leaves much to be desired. The lines on a parking spot are merely a suggestion to most folks as they just haphazardly pull their car into whatever space is available. I kid you not, I've seen a midsized sedan take up four spaces before, and that was not because they parked parallel in a perpendicular spot. They're just that lazy/rude/etc. or perhaps more people need glasses here than you can think. And we wonder why there are so many parking issues here.
So, that's about it for my assessment of driving here in Israel. I'm hoping the test won't be a nightmare and that I'll understand all the commands I'm given. Listening to my boyfriend is one thing...listening to a grumpy government work bark out orders while driving in this clusterfuck is another. Should be interesting, as are all of my adventures in this crazy land. Love to all!
We drive on the right side of the road, just like in the good ole USofA, so no difference there. Israelis typically start driving from 18 years of age and up, some not getting their license until after they've completed the army, putting them closer to age 21. The process of getting this coveted license is quite pricey, too. The average Israeli needs about 28 lessons that cost about $25 a pop. Now, if you're especially bad, you will need more lessons, and that is all up to the driving instructor. After you've completed your lessons, you have to run through a ton of bureaucratic bullshit to get your paperwork ready for the test. This is where I jumped into the equation, since I have 14 years of driving experience from the US. Then, you must schedule a test with the DMV and pay about $125 or more for the test. I'm still waiting for my test spot...hopefully that will come soon. Most native Israelis I have talked to failed their first test, even the competent ones, as it seems that this is an easy way for the DMV to make more money. However, I have heard and I pray that new immigrants are given an easier time and are usually passed on their first try, notwithstanding any major issues within the test.
You would think that with all this time and money invested in driving lessons and testing that Israelis would be excellent drivers. I sadly must share with you that this is not the case. An Israeli's driving habit directly mirrors their character - loud, brash, dominate, and will do anything to get ahead. People scream, people honk, people cut you off, and this is all just part in parcel for the ride on our fair streets here.
Now, for some differences. First of all, if a street has two or more lanes DON'T EVER drive in the far right lane. While it is a lane of traffic, it almost always turns into a row of parking spots, as well. No signage, no warning, just suddenly, a line of cars blocking your way.
Second, we have traffic circles here. No four-way stops. My theory is that Israelis just wouldn't have the patience, but a recent episode of Myth Busters also explained that traffic circles are also more efficient. Which is definitely what our short-tempered culture needs. Check out the MB experiment here.
Also, be careful because there are no right turns on red in this country! I learned this the hard way when I almost gave my dear friend, Artur, a heart attack by turning right on red. Even if no one is coming, it's still illegal. If you can turn right, there is a separate, designated lane that leads you into traffic. Oy va voy if you break this rule!
Gas prices are also drastically different. At about 8 shekels a liter, we pay dearly for our gas. With the current exchange weight much more in the shekel's favor and the conversion of liters to gallons, that's about $10 a gallon, friends. We definitely consider if we can walk or take a bus or a bike before we just hop in the car.
Don't be afraid to honk, because you will get honked at back! I feel oftentimes like I am corralling a heard of cows while I'm driving, politely giving a few beeps to warn another car not to sideswipe me as he swerves chaotically through traffic or as a pedestrian hastily tries to cross the road (often illegally, as well). Gotta be on your p's and q's otherwise, you're going to get hit.
Lastly, Israeli parking leaves much to be desired. The lines on a parking spot are merely a suggestion to most folks as they just haphazardly pull their car into whatever space is available. I kid you not, I've seen a midsized sedan take up four spaces before, and that was not because they parked parallel in a perpendicular spot. They're just that lazy/rude/etc. or perhaps more people need glasses here than you can think. And we wonder why there are so many parking issues here.
So, that's about it for my assessment of driving here in Israel. I'm hoping the test won't be a nightmare and that I'll understand all the commands I'm given. Listening to my boyfriend is one thing...listening to a grumpy government work bark out orders while driving in this clusterfuck is another. Should be interesting, as are all of my adventures in this crazy land. Love to all!
Thursday, May 29, 2014
10 Years Ago Today
A very funny thing happened to me during one of my English lessons this evening. I was sitting with one of my best students, having a conversation lesson, when we started talking about high school and tests and graduation...and it hit me that ten years ago, I graduated from high school. Something continued nagging me, however, and I decided to pull out my high school diploma and show it to my student. As I checked the date, I was shocked to see that on this EXACT day ten years ago, I graduated high school. Now, my friends, that is a weird feeling. To be sitting in the middle of my lesson, in my apartment in Be'er Sheva, Israel, and to be transported back to where I was exactly ten years ago to that moment.
I happily remembered the day, starting off as a beautiful, sunny May morning in Arkansas. We had graduation practice that morning on the football field, and we were all pretty sure that we wouldn't be rained out and forced into the gym with the clear sky and the pleasant breeze. I found on my seat my final English paper from the famed Mrs. Kropp (my her memory be forever blessed)...that stress-filled project that determined if I kept my perfect 4.0 average or not (it was). I remember time spent with the family and friends and how quickly the day ran away until we all converged on the football stadium that evening. Decked out in red heels in honor of my beloved sister, Lori, who also wore red heels to her Southside High School graduation years before, I joined the throngs of my fellow students to graduate. It was beautiful...I remember lots of specific parts, especially when Mr. Mahaffey grabbed my ankle before I walked across the podium to get my diploma, with a huge smile on his face (that smile that no one can forget) and surely lots of great memories in his heart. (Super quick side story, Mr. Mahaffey, easily one of the most influential teachers of my life, taught my oldest sister, Kim, and vowed to not retire until he had taught me. True to his word, my year was his last year of teaching. I was so fortunate to have him as a teacher and a mentor, and I gained so much from him.) I remember the first few students dropping their diplomas as they crossed the stage, out fear or nerves or whatever, and I made a mental note to hold on for dear life. I remember a sea full of light blue caps and gowns and the tunnel our teachers made, escorting us into to beginning of the end...and on into a new beginning.
Now, let's twist the mind around a bit more. I've been reflecting, ever since my discovery, on where I thought I would be and where I actually am now. As a naive and energetic 18 year old, I never thought that my life would end up in Israel, studying my Masters degree in a language that I'm still learning, roughing it and toughing it and loving it with an amazing life partner and tons of unbelievable friends by my side. The last ten years have been a roller coaster, but all the dips and turns and loopty-loops make me who I am, and I'm proud of the life I've lived and the life I'm living. Sure, I've made some terrible choices, but more importantly, I've learned from them. All of this beautiful reflection in the midst of an end-of-the-semester, too-stressed-out-to-function, all-work-and-no-play crisis with lots of tears and snot. But, damn, if these are the things I'm stressed about - a presentation in front of a group of doctors with whom I've worked and co-treated patients all year, leading a mock group therapy session, cleaning my big and beautiful apartment, spending time with my amazing and intelligent boyfriend, finding time to be with all those super friends I've been blessed with, etc. - then I would say that I'm doing terribly well. So, with sleep deprivation on my mind, I'll finish this nostalgic post with a smile on my face and a happy reflection in my heart. Southside High School Class of 2004.
(And I made it through the entire post without saying something about feeling old...high five! Hahaha!)
I happily remembered the day, starting off as a beautiful, sunny May morning in Arkansas. We had graduation practice that morning on the football field, and we were all pretty sure that we wouldn't be rained out and forced into the gym with the clear sky and the pleasant breeze. I found on my seat my final English paper from the famed Mrs. Kropp (my her memory be forever blessed)...that stress-filled project that determined if I kept my perfect 4.0 average or not (it was). I remember time spent with the family and friends and how quickly the day ran away until we all converged on the football stadium that evening. Decked out in red heels in honor of my beloved sister, Lori, who also wore red heels to her Southside High School graduation years before, I joined the throngs of my fellow students to graduate. It was beautiful...I remember lots of specific parts, especially when Mr. Mahaffey grabbed my ankle before I walked across the podium to get my diploma, with a huge smile on his face (that smile that no one can forget) and surely lots of great memories in his heart. (Super quick side story, Mr. Mahaffey, easily one of the most influential teachers of my life, taught my oldest sister, Kim, and vowed to not retire until he had taught me. True to his word, my year was his last year of teaching. I was so fortunate to have him as a teacher and a mentor, and I gained so much from him.) I remember the first few students dropping their diplomas as they crossed the stage, out fear or nerves or whatever, and I made a mental note to hold on for dear life. I remember a sea full of light blue caps and gowns and the tunnel our teachers made, escorting us into to beginning of the end...and on into a new beginning.
Now, let's twist the mind around a bit more. I've been reflecting, ever since my discovery, on where I thought I would be and where I actually am now. As a naive and energetic 18 year old, I never thought that my life would end up in Israel, studying my Masters degree in a language that I'm still learning, roughing it and toughing it and loving it with an amazing life partner and tons of unbelievable friends by my side. The last ten years have been a roller coaster, but all the dips and turns and loopty-loops make me who I am, and I'm proud of the life I've lived and the life I'm living. Sure, I've made some terrible choices, but more importantly, I've learned from them. All of this beautiful reflection in the midst of an end-of-the-semester, too-stressed-out-to-function, all-work-and-no-play crisis with lots of tears and snot. But, damn, if these are the things I'm stressed about - a presentation in front of a group of doctors with whom I've worked and co-treated patients all year, leading a mock group therapy session, cleaning my big and beautiful apartment, spending time with my amazing and intelligent boyfriend, finding time to be with all those super friends I've been blessed with, etc. - then I would say that I'm doing terribly well. So, with sleep deprivation on my mind, I'll finish this nostalgic post with a smile on my face and a happy reflection in my heart. Southside High School Class of 2004.
(And I made it through the entire post without saying something about feeling old...high five! Hahaha!)
Friday, May 23, 2014
Surprise Post!
Surprise! I'm back! I mean, I've always been here, but juggling grad school, an internship, three jobs, and the multitude of other obligations we as humans have, I've neglected my poor blog. There's so much to update you all on, as well!
I'll start with this - it hit me this morning, as I was sitting on my "sun balcony" in my new apartment that it's Friday morning. Theoretically, this should be like a Saturday morning in America. Quiet, no work, no school, and time for all the fun we all enjoy. However, Israel is a different animal. People typically work six days a week, Sunday to Friday (since Saturday is our designated day of rest, as opposed to Sunday in America), children go to school Sunday to Friday, and things operate normally albeit on a shorter schedule. Things will close early today, around 3:30-4:00PM to allow time for Shabbat preparations. For me, it typically has meant running to work at H&M from 7AM and then arriving home around 4:30PM to teach the last English lessons of the week before running out of steam. So, maybe it's no surprise that I haven't had the time that I've wanted to write or read (or study, for that matter). Our culture here is a fast-paced one, and I feel like people are constantly on the move...
Except for me today. My body told me SIT DOWN AND REST, and I've been sick with a stomach virus for almost a week. I guess I can't complain too much. We may work extra long and hard, but when you're sick, you get paid out of your sick days (I get 18 a year, for example), and you can really just focus on being better. That's a huge change from America where, if I were sick, I'd have to use vacation days and pay dearly to go to the doctor. Did I mention, too, that I pay $7 a month for full coverage health insurance, and I don't pay a dime when I go to visit the doctor? Or that my prescriptions will never be more than $10 (usually around $3-4)? Did I also mention that my American mentality is so deeply ingrained within me that I still have a hard time to stop working, go to the doctor, and just rest? You can check with Yagel - I've driven him nuts with my stubbornness on this subject more than once. :)
So, let's catch up on some of massive changes that have occurred over the past few months. First of all, I moved to a new apartment. It's HUGE compared to what I was in, and it has such a lovely character. I have a great kitchen, a big living room, two bedrooms (one, I have turned into an office), a large bathroom, and two balconies - a service balcony, where I can theoretically do laundry (just don't have a washing machine yet, haha), and a sun balcony, which I mentioned earlier, that is used as an extension to the kitchen and a future home to yoga and meditation time. Future meaning, when I have time. Here's some photo evidence...
I'll start with this - it hit me this morning, as I was sitting on my "sun balcony" in my new apartment that it's Friday morning. Theoretically, this should be like a Saturday morning in America. Quiet, no work, no school, and time for all the fun we all enjoy. However, Israel is a different animal. People typically work six days a week, Sunday to Friday (since Saturday is our designated day of rest, as opposed to Sunday in America), children go to school Sunday to Friday, and things operate normally albeit on a shorter schedule. Things will close early today, around 3:30-4:00PM to allow time for Shabbat preparations. For me, it typically has meant running to work at H&M from 7AM and then arriving home around 4:30PM to teach the last English lessons of the week before running out of steam. So, maybe it's no surprise that I haven't had the time that I've wanted to write or read (or study, for that matter). Our culture here is a fast-paced one, and I feel like people are constantly on the move...
Except for me today. My body told me SIT DOWN AND REST, and I've been sick with a stomach virus for almost a week. I guess I can't complain too much. We may work extra long and hard, but when you're sick, you get paid out of your sick days (I get 18 a year, for example), and you can really just focus on being better. That's a huge change from America where, if I were sick, I'd have to use vacation days and pay dearly to go to the doctor. Did I mention, too, that I pay $7 a month for full coverage health insurance, and I don't pay a dime when I go to visit the doctor? Or that my prescriptions will never be more than $10 (usually around $3-4)? Did I also mention that my American mentality is so deeply ingrained within me that I still have a hard time to stop working, go to the doctor, and just rest? You can check with Yagel - I've driven him nuts with my stubbornness on this subject more than once. :)
So, let's catch up on some of massive changes that have occurred over the past few months. First of all, I moved to a new apartment. It's HUGE compared to what I was in, and it has such a lovely character. I have a great kitchen, a big living room, two bedrooms (one, I have turned into an office), a large bathroom, and two balconies - a service balcony, where I can theoretically do laundry (just don't have a washing machine yet, haha), and a sun balcony, which I mentioned earlier, that is used as an extension to the kitchen and a future home to yoga and meditation time. Future meaning, when I have time. Here's some photo evidence...
The sun balcony before it was made into an extension of the kitchen...now there is a microwave and a wine rack and other fun kitchen-y things there.
This is the much talked about kitchen. It's HUGE, and I have so much space to cook! Plus, the sink is 4x bigger than the last one. I'm not really sure what to do with myself...
Entering the living room from the sun balcony...TV, book shelf, and oh my, what is that on the bottom left?
More of the living room, looking at the dining area and front door.
Looking back into the living room. Two big sofas! We don't have to perform acrobatics to relax while watching TV! Yagel's beautiful artwork is one the walls...and oh...again, there's something strange by the sofa...
The bedroom...so much light. TV. More room. So red (just like I like it!).
And the office. With the wild zebra print on the closets. It even has a dry-erase board on the opposite wall, which is great for teaching lessons!
So, to address that rather blonde ball of fur that you saw in a few of the pictures. It is indeed true, Yagel and I adopted a dog. His name is Tripp Turner Chernia (thanks, Mom!), and he's half Shar-Pei, half Pit Bull or Labrador or teddy bear, we're not sure. Here he is in all his cuteness...
Yep, so new apartment, new furchild, getting close to finishing my first year in grad school. Also visited Amsterdam for a week. It's been a whirlwind, and I'm still loving every minute of it. Ahhhhh, writing this blog is definitely my therapy. I hope that I can find the time to do more for myself in the coming weeks...even with finals approaching. Hope to catch up again with y'all soon! Kisses, Megan
Monday, December 2, 2013
Stuck in the Middle
Maybe some of you older olim can help me with this, but my first trip home has been an emotional roller coaster. I'm super happy and excited one minute, I'm sad about leaving the next, I'm super homesick for Israel the next, and I just feel in emotional limbo at the moment.
My flight home leaves Friday, weather permitting, since there is a massive snow and ice storm that will be rolling through the area and the area of my first connecting flight starting Thursday. Strange enough, I'm not happy with the prospect of staying later or the prospect of leaving earlier because, somewhere in my twisted brain, I have it figured out that Friday is the "sweet spot." Not too little, not too much. Goldie Lock's "just right." I blamed it on the prospect of missing more school when being weepy to my patient and amazing boyfriend earlier, but it's much deeper than that.
When I'm not in Israel, I'm not completely myself...perhaps my healthy self is more accurate to say. My stomach is messed up because I'm not used to the heavy and gut-punching American food anymore. My brain is all scrambled because I'm not with my adopted family(s) who have become such an integral part of my everyday life. My body is beyond jacked up seeing as how I'm on the two week mark of being in the States, and I'm still jet lagged and finding myself tired at all the wrong times.
When I'm not in Arkansas, I'm constantly worried about my parents, my two loving lifelines who mean the world to me. I miss Mexican and Thai and Indian food. I miss my dear American friends. And at this particular moment, I'm stuck between those two worlds, longing to be in Israel but already missing Arkansas (or more correctly, the people who mean something to me since we established in an earlier post that I could very well do without this small town mentality). How do you deal when you feel like you're about to be torn in two again?
You deal with it with a smile knowing that you, and only you, have been the one to make it possible to live in such a way, having found yourself two different worlds and homes on this vast Earth. And you're proud of that fact. You busted it to be able to buy a ticket and come home to show those close to you how much you love them and to just simply (and importantly) be with them. And you get to return to the place where you feel the best and continue on with the beautiful life you've built with pride and support coming at you from all sides.
I guess this is truly summing up what it means to be an Arkansan Israeli, a citizen and lover of both places. Pretty amazing. So, here's yours truly, "Confused Israeli in Arkansas, Soon to Be Confused Arkansan in Israel," awaiting the balance to be restored. But more thankful than ever for the life I have.
My flight home leaves Friday, weather permitting, since there is a massive snow and ice storm that will be rolling through the area and the area of my first connecting flight starting Thursday. Strange enough, I'm not happy with the prospect of staying later or the prospect of leaving earlier because, somewhere in my twisted brain, I have it figured out that Friday is the "sweet spot." Not too little, not too much. Goldie Lock's "just right." I blamed it on the prospect of missing more school when being weepy to my patient and amazing boyfriend earlier, but it's much deeper than that.
When I'm not in Israel, I'm not completely myself...perhaps my healthy self is more accurate to say. My stomach is messed up because I'm not used to the heavy and gut-punching American food anymore. My brain is all scrambled because I'm not with my adopted family(s) who have become such an integral part of my everyday life. My body is beyond jacked up seeing as how I'm on the two week mark of being in the States, and I'm still jet lagged and finding myself tired at all the wrong times.
When I'm not in Arkansas, I'm constantly worried about my parents, my two loving lifelines who mean the world to me. I miss Mexican and Thai and Indian food. I miss my dear American friends. And at this particular moment, I'm stuck between those two worlds, longing to be in Israel but already missing Arkansas (or more correctly, the people who mean something to me since we established in an earlier post that I could very well do without this small town mentality). How do you deal when you feel like you're about to be torn in two again?
You deal with it with a smile knowing that you, and only you, have been the one to make it possible to live in such a way, having found yourself two different worlds and homes on this vast Earth. And you're proud of that fact. You busted it to be able to buy a ticket and come home to show those close to you how much you love them and to just simply (and importantly) be with them. And you get to return to the place where you feel the best and continue on with the beautiful life you've built with pride and support coming at you from all sides.
I guess this is truly summing up what it means to be an Arkansan Israeli, a citizen and lover of both places. Pretty amazing. So, here's yours truly, "Confused Israeli in Arkansas, Soon to Be Confused Arkansan in Israel," awaiting the balance to be restored. But more thankful than ever for the life I have.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Why You (yes, you, that small town Jewish kid) Should Make Aliyah
Living in Israel has had quite an amazing affect on my life. I'm healthier - not a regular smoker, exercising more frequently, and eating a lot better. I'm happier - I've let go of a lot of pain, am in the process of healing, and have found my place in this world with the most beautiful adopted family by my side. I'm more successful (even if less wealthy) - I've started my masters degree, I'm teaching English and dancing to kids, and I am totally self-sufficient without a cent of debt.
But wait, where's the religious part? You would think that moving to the "Holy Land" would push this aspect to the forefront of everything. Many of you who know me remember that for the 5 to 6 years following up to making aliyah, I became quite traditional in my Jewishness. I wore a lot of skirts and dresses. I kept strict Kosher. And for awhile, I kept Shabbat, not working/driving/cooking/etc./etc. from Friday night sundown to Saturday night sundown. All the while, I felt like I was fulfilling some unwritten code of small town Jewry about keeping the customs and the religion alive. It was my duty to stand apart and my duty to be different and my duty to keep these traditions in order to be Jewish. And it worked for quite some time. I suffered, and I struggled, and I wrestled with my beliefs and my feelings. But all the while, something way down deep was not satisfied at all.
Coming to Israel, I thoroughly expected to deepen in my religiousness. What I didn't expect was to deepen in my spirituality and my humanity while losing so much of the traditional chains that bound me so tightly (not just to Judaism, but that wound me up and suffocated me, as well). Am I still Jewish? Heck yes. But it's a different form of Judaism. It's the focus on family, it's the charity and the giving, it's the culture. So, while I may not worry if a restaurant has a Kosher certificate or if there is cheese on my hamburger anymore, I've never felt more Jewish in my life. Everyone has their own definitions of what it is to be Jewish, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I can be Jewish in the way that I need to be, not in the way that Judaism needs me to be.
I was a little scared of coming back home and feeling as if I would get lost in the crowd because I'm not the traditional Jew I used to be. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I feel more self-secure and powerful than ever. Being Jewish is so natural for me now, and I don't have to depend on stringent traditions to define me as a Jew.
That's why I suggest that small town Jews make aliyah...to discover their Judaism instead of having Judaism dictate what it should be to them. You may find that you strengthen your religious ties and that you're opened up to another, vaster world of Judaism, one where you don't fight to find Kosher food, where you don't have to beg to be off of work for Shabbat and Jewish holidays, and one where your religious connection sores. You may have a similar experience to mine and become a completely different type of Jew. Or you may have any number of amazing experiences along the spectrum. But I'll tell you, when you come back to the States and you feel that difference between living in a Jewish country and functioning in a non-Jewish country, it'll definitely get you thinking differently about your Jewish life. (It could be that Israel isn't for you, but just for the eye-opening experience of how Judaism works in your life, it's worth giving the Israeli life a try for a few years.)
So, in honor of the miracle of Channukah (a mere three days away!), I'll toast to the miracle of finding my Jewish self. L'chaim!
But wait, where's the religious part? You would think that moving to the "Holy Land" would push this aspect to the forefront of everything. Many of you who know me remember that for the 5 to 6 years following up to making aliyah, I became quite traditional in my Jewishness. I wore a lot of skirts and dresses. I kept strict Kosher. And for awhile, I kept Shabbat, not working/driving/cooking/etc./etc. from Friday night sundown to Saturday night sundown. All the while, I felt like I was fulfilling some unwritten code of small town Jewry about keeping the customs and the religion alive. It was my duty to stand apart and my duty to be different and my duty to keep these traditions in order to be Jewish. And it worked for quite some time. I suffered, and I struggled, and I wrestled with my beliefs and my feelings. But all the while, something way down deep was not satisfied at all.
Coming to Israel, I thoroughly expected to deepen in my religiousness. What I didn't expect was to deepen in my spirituality and my humanity while losing so much of the traditional chains that bound me so tightly (not just to Judaism, but that wound me up and suffocated me, as well). Am I still Jewish? Heck yes. But it's a different form of Judaism. It's the focus on family, it's the charity and the giving, it's the culture. So, while I may not worry if a restaurant has a Kosher certificate or if there is cheese on my hamburger anymore, I've never felt more Jewish in my life. Everyone has their own definitions of what it is to be Jewish, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I can be Jewish in the way that I need to be, not in the way that Judaism needs me to be.
I was a little scared of coming back home and feeling as if I would get lost in the crowd because I'm not the traditional Jew I used to be. In fact, it is quite the opposite. I feel more self-secure and powerful than ever. Being Jewish is so natural for me now, and I don't have to depend on stringent traditions to define me as a Jew.
That's why I suggest that small town Jews make aliyah...to discover their Judaism instead of having Judaism dictate what it should be to them. You may find that you strengthen your religious ties and that you're opened up to another, vaster world of Judaism, one where you don't fight to find Kosher food, where you don't have to beg to be off of work for Shabbat and Jewish holidays, and one where your religious connection sores. You may have a similar experience to mine and become a completely different type of Jew. Or you may have any number of amazing experiences along the spectrum. But I'll tell you, when you come back to the States and you feel that difference between living in a Jewish country and functioning in a non-Jewish country, it'll definitely get you thinking differently about your Jewish life. (It could be that Israel isn't for you, but just for the eye-opening experience of how Judaism works in your life, it's worth giving the Israeli life a try for a few years.)
So, in honor of the miracle of Channukah (a mere three days away!), I'll toast to the miracle of finding my Jewish self. L'chaim!
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Will Home Ever Be Home Again?
I've been home for 4.5 days, and while I have thoroughly enjoyed spending time with my parents and seeing/planning to see many dear friends, I am feeling extremely alienated here in my small hometown. Running into people is fun, for sure, with the excited squeals of "WOW, you're back!" and "You look amazing!" (30 pounds down will do it). And being here during Thanksgiving/Christmas time is also refreshing and exciting and something I don't get back in Israel. But, it just doesn't feel right anymore. Old scars pop back out. The past is no longer the past. And all that healing and growing you've so carefully cultivated seems to come undone just a little bit.
For instance, I saw someone yesterday who asked how married life was (she's about two years behind on the gossip). I very bluntly told her that I was divorced and that it had been a really terrible situation. She continued badgering me about life and how things are now, but I couldn't shake that dirty feeling of being reminded of that part of my history. And from the looks of the other party-goers, they couldn't either. The fake smiles laced with judgmental tendencies really tore away a little bit of my excitement of being here.
So, that brings me to my question - will home ever be home again? I've had a hard time of saying, "I'm home," and have instead opted for, "I'm in Arkansas." For me, Israel is my home now. I feel 100% at ease there with the beautiful life I've built. Free of judgement about the past (and that's even with all my near and dear ones knowing the past and loving and accepting me). Free of stigma. And complete honesty, warmth, love, and directness. It is a rather sad notion feeling that your home will never be your home again, but there's also something welcoming about the fact that home can be where you make it and where you need it to be.
I also have to keep the words of my ever-brilliant boyfriend and source of unconditional support in mind: "I'd like you to travel home carrying not only my pride in your heart, but more importantly yours. For making a home of a strange place, empowering friends, taking care of yourself, and having fun. Feel proud!" And I am. I can hold my head up high and say that I have definitely chosen the right path for me. And even if it is hard being away from Mom and Dad, I know that I've built the home that I needed to build and that it just keeps getting better.
Next up, why all small town Jews should make aliyah. Interesting observations on the way...
For instance, I saw someone yesterday who asked how married life was (she's about two years behind on the gossip). I very bluntly told her that I was divorced and that it had been a really terrible situation. She continued badgering me about life and how things are now, but I couldn't shake that dirty feeling of being reminded of that part of my history. And from the looks of the other party-goers, they couldn't either. The fake smiles laced with judgmental tendencies really tore away a little bit of my excitement of being here.
So, that brings me to my question - will home ever be home again? I've had a hard time of saying, "I'm home," and have instead opted for, "I'm in Arkansas." For me, Israel is my home now. I feel 100% at ease there with the beautiful life I've built. Free of judgement about the past (and that's even with all my near and dear ones knowing the past and loving and accepting me). Free of stigma. And complete honesty, warmth, love, and directness. It is a rather sad notion feeling that your home will never be your home again, but there's also something welcoming about the fact that home can be where you make it and where you need it to be.
I also have to keep the words of my ever-brilliant boyfriend and source of unconditional support in mind: "I'd like you to travel home carrying not only my pride in your heart, but more importantly yours. For making a home of a strange place, empowering friends, taking care of yourself, and having fun. Feel proud!" And I am. I can hold my head up high and say that I have definitely chosen the right path for me. And even if it is hard being away from Mom and Dad, I know that I've built the home that I needed to build and that it just keeps getting better.
Next up, why all small town Jews should make aliyah. Interesting observations on the way...
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