What I Have in My House (in Israel) that You Don't...

No doubt that life here is much different than life in America.  And no doubt that I'm loving every minute of it.  Even the hard and the scary times because, well, this is my home.  With the imminent US strike on Syria, you can definitely feel the buzz of running to get prepared for whatever may come in air, and it really got me to thinking about what I have in my house now that I would NEVER have in my house back home in Arkansas.  So, here's a humorous yet realistic rundown of my phat, war-prepped pad in the B7.

Exhibit A:  Milk in a bag.  I've been obsessed with this odd commodity since the first time I lived here in 2006.  I like milk in a bag.  Hell, I love milk in a bag, and it's cheaper than milk in a carton.  Boo to the yeah.  If whatever impending doom is anything like last time, however, it'll take me an hour to make a cup of coffee and use this heavenly liquid between trips to the bomb shelter.

Exhibit B:  Gas mask in a box.  Including my very own Epipen in the event that I inhale any noxious chemical/biological warfare fumes (update - this is NOT included in my kit...read that in the news not too long ago...eep!).  It's even got a nifty, thick plastic strap which I assume is a sign that it was designed to be carried around like a purse for those of us who might be more panicked than others.  I felt super uneasy having this under my bed the first few nights it lived there, but now it's just another thing that collects dirt, dust, and sand.  I'm REALLY hoping I don't have to figure out how to strap on a gas mask in the coming days.

Exhibit C:  My bedroom, the bomb shelter.  You can see my reinforced door and the metal sheet over my window.  Definitely not something I thought I would ever use (oh, to be naive once again!), but something I am ever thankful for having.  It is a bit frustrating that the walls are super thick slabs of concrete and are therefore really troublesome for hanging pictures and whatnot and that the only place I get internet on the computer is right by the door, but those are small prices to pay for this safety commodity.  I did recently find myself joking to a friend, "If you need a mamad (bomb shelter), you know where the party's at!"  After I said it, I felt really weird even having joked about it.  All part of the process of becoming Israeli.

Exhibit D:  Just a portion of the package of toilet paper I am required to buy here in Israel.  They don't sell packages with less than 478014 rolls, and you are therefore stocked for about a year at at time.  In all seriousness, the standard pack comes with about 50 rolls and comes up to my waist.  Remember, I don't have a car, so I either bike or walk to the grocery store and must lug this thing home.  I can use the pack kind of like a cane, and I always feel overwhelmed when it's all stacked up in my bathroom.  Remember, again, that I live in a small place with not a lot of storage, which makes the volume even more overwhelming for me.  Good thing I'm stocked up in case I accidentally shit my pants from the stress of this looming attack...

Exhibit E:  A fairly typical news headline for me.  Stay calm, folks.  Ain't nothin' to worry about here!  Everyone needs to get their gas mask, but don't panic (I got mine back in January, so I've been prepared).  Hospitals need to take emergency precautions, but don't panic.  Soldiers in the North aren't allowed to go home for the weekend and reserve soldiers have been called up, but don't panic.  The government has moved Iron Dome missile defense system to quite a few locations in the north/center and even Patriot missile systems, but don't panic.  In all fairness, I'm not panicked, but I am on edge.  You can feel that buzz in the air which is really oddly juxtaposed to the festive atmosphere of the upcoming Jewish New Year.  People are buying up a ton of food for the long holiday and the lavish meals and swinging by the post office to pick up their gas masks and picking up a few other emergency items along the way.  But, you know, we do just keep going, and we stick together, and we do it with our heads held high.  Friggin' proud to be Israeli, fo sho.

Exhibit F:  Ahhhhhh, and one of my favorite things, I have this view.  My beautiful desert garden with cacti and a hammock and birds and colorful flowers.  I have a window that happily looks out on it all with my proud Israeli flag (which I bought in 2005 and have subsequently dragged to every place I've ever lived since).  These beautiful things, among others, make living here so worth it. 

I hope you've enjoyed your little tour of my domicile.  Yes, I have a gas mask under my bed, and I sleep in a bomb shelter, but I also live in one of the most lively, dynamic, progressive places in the world.  I wouldn't change it for anything.  I should, however, go clean my house and finish stocking up on food in the event that I do have guests in the bomb shelter...a true possibility.  Sending everyone wishes of rest, fun, and most importantly, peace and quiet, on this Shabbat.

What's Next?

That's a fairly profound question but one that I have been asking myself a lot lately.  So much has changed recently, and I have these huge question marks floating around in my head.  There's nothing much to complain about, but the uncertainty is startling.

Exciting news is that I got accepted to Ben Gurion University's Masters of Social Work program which starts in October.  Scary part of that is...well, there's a lot.  First of all, all the classes are in Hebrew (with the exception of a few taught by the department head who is American and who refuses to teach in Hebrew...I'll be signing up for A LOT of his courses!).  I realize that I'll manage.  Hell, I've managed for this long, and I've not only survived, I've prospered.  Yes, I shock myself daily with my abilities in a foreign language, but I also get frustrated daily when I get tongue tied and can't fully express myself.  You really feel stupid, for lack of a better way to describe it, when you're first mastering a new language.  You firstly start to lose your superior grasp of your mother tongue, forgetting common words that you just haven't used in awhile, and you secondly don't have enough traction in the new language to fully show who you are and display your level of intelligence.  It is frustrating and humbling for someone like myself who has always been a "talker" and a "communicator."  Which in its own way probably means that I'll be fine and that I just need to give myself time.

Second scary issue tied to uni is that of money.  I'm very fortunate that the State of Israel will be paying for the vast majority of my degree program as part of my new immigrant benefits.  However, this is a "retraining" program, meaning that I have to take a semester or two of bachelors level classes to complete my BA in Social Work.  Two degrees for one?  I'll take that.  But that also means that the government won't pay for all of this first year.  Also, even when they do pay for it, I have to pay for everything upfront and they reimburse me a couple of months later.  What does that mean?  I have to apply for student loans (in Hebrew), I have to find scholarships (in Hebrew), and I have to figure out how to balance a work schedule that will both allow me to study and allow me to eat and have a place to live.  This is such a different situation from where I was a year ago.  And I get that there are challenges in the beginning of any new adventure, but different money in a different language is super unsettling.  Oh well, that's what the rest of my day is devoted to - figuring out finances for the next year and trying not to cry from the stress.

I have also started teaching English lessons.  Through the great power of Israeli networking, I was introduced to someone from the Ministry of Education who has hired me as a teacher for summer school programs and who has also given me the opportunity to teach English private lessons.  This is a huge breath of fresh air, as it's much more in line with what I want to be doing, and it's a much better use of my professional skills than selling clothes.  I'm loving it, even if I did make a little brat cry last week in my class and even if it feels a little up in the air at this point as to what will happen once the school year starts.

All of this uncertainty and all of these question marks are directly impacting the thing that I want to do most at this point, which is visit home.  I'm dying to be in Arkansas with my mom and dad and to see friends and to eat food that I miss and to be in my childhood home.  At this point, I can only stay positive and hope that I can fly home at the end of September before classes start.  Hell, I may just do it on a whim, like an Israeli, and figure out the consequences later.  Which is probably what will happen.

And for now?  It's off to the bank for a fun round of Israeli bureaucracy.  I think I'll need a strong drink tonight, even though it is the "saddest day of the Jewish calendar" as we remember the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem. I mourn by drinking, as I have shown myself and the rest of the world this past month and a half.  So, cheers to all, and get ready for our next post, all about the absurdities of working retail in Israel. 

This is That Post I've Been Dreading to Write

It's been a hot minute since y'all have heard from me in this venue, and I've been dreading this post.  It's obvious that even when you're living the dream, there will be trying times, and the last two months have been the most trying thus far.  I'm tempted to say in my entire life. 

As most of you know, my dear, sweet, precious Princess Pepper died at the beginning of June.  It was very sudden, and her kidneys just gave out due to old age.  I was very lucky to spend an intimate last day with her, and I was even right next to her when she left me.  I'm weeping now, and the post has barely begun.  I can't describe the pain of losing my best friend, my security blanket, my source of unconditional love.  She is still with me, I feel, but it is so weird and hard to be in my house without her.  I still turn and look for her from time to time.

The first days after her death were the worst.  I couldn't stay at home because of the silence.  I missed hearing her little feet on the tile floor and her heavy pug breathing.  I missed that face looking for me when I came home.  I missed that warm body next to me at night.  I'm still having a hard time sleeping without her, but things get a little easier each day.

This enormous personal tragedy really magnified for me the fact that I'm in a totally different world.  It really shook me to realize that I am here alone alone now.  I could always answer people with, "I'm not alone - I have my dog!"  But now?  I can't say that.  My strongest connection to home was suddenly not with me, and I felt like I was floating out in space without any way to tangibly feel home.  It's a scary feeling, but it's gradually becoming liberating in a way.  It doesn't make things any easier, but now, I'm standing on my own two feet, completely by my own will.  My only choice is to keep going and, as we say in Hebrew, to keep "doing/making life."

But, I totally learned that I'm anything but alone here.  My friends here wrapped around me like family and showed me endless love and care.  They came to hold me while I cried, they fed me, they got me out of the house.  They called, they wrote.  They did anything they could to support me, and I was showered in hugs and kisses.  I knew these people here were special, but I didn't realize how much.  The outpouring of love from people back home and around the world via Facebook-land also touched my heart.  I didn't realize how many people knew of and loved Pepper.  I'm a lucky, lucky human being, that's for sure.

And here I am now, embarking on a new adventure, without my partner in crime physically next to me.  Her memory and her impact on my life will always be apparent, however.  How can it not be?  I'm blown away daily at how much a small, fat ball of fur changed my life forever.  I'm also a little scared about introducing new people into my life because they won't feel the magic of Pepper.  I hope I can bring her spirit and her character into me so that others can somehow understand just how special she was to me.  I also hope that everyone can be as lucky as me and can experience this type of beautiful love that exists between a girl and her dog.

Much more to update on, and now that the hard part's over, maybe I can write more frequently.  Love to you all.

The Perils of an Israeli Cyclist

Somehow, I got this idea that I wanted to cycle my way around Be'er Sheva instead of spending my money on a bus pass and on costly taxi rides.  So, for my birthday, I bought myself a shiny pink bicycle with a basket and a rack on the back.  I'll tell you, my body is mighty happy at this decision as I'm watching the weight just slide off and as my legs are getting strong enough to kill a man.  My wallet is also happy, and I love the feeling of independence that it brings.  There are drawbacks, however, and I'm ready to rant about them. 

Here is my gorgeous bike, decorated for Israeli Independence Day.

 

My major beef is with pedestrians.  I don't think people realize how stupidly they walk when strolling down a sidewalk.  People don't walk in straight lines and are very unpredictable.  They also prefer to walk directly in the middle of the sidewalk, regardless of how narrow or wide it may be.  Now, I know that a lot of you will say, "But you shouldn't be riding your bike on the sidewalk."  First of all, there is plenty of room to share the way.  Second, if I didn't ride on the sidewalk, you would all be reading my obituary because I would already be dead from Israeli drivers.  And third, my city is full of bikes, and bike paths are slowly being built - I just see at as I'm using these paths before they're ready.  ;)

 

Okay, pedestrians.  Their unpredictability and their sporadic behavior makes life for us cyclists a nightmare.  I have this adorable bell on my bicycle which is really only effective at scaring cats and birds out of my way.  I find myself ringing this bell ad nauseum, followed by my exasperated pleas of "slicha!" or "excuse me!"  Lastly, I do my best to "think skinny" on the bike and squeeze past these ridiculous pedestrians, much to their panic as they realize I'm there (not like I wasn't making enough noise earlier).  This exchange then ends in me saying something smartass and giving them an annoyed glare.  So Israeli of me.

 

Now, there are some pedestrians who are worse than others.  Let me say, you would be surprised at how much room a little old lady can take up on a sidewalk.  I hate ringing my bell at them because I don't want to scare them, so I typically proceed with great caution.  Somehow, though, they always end up exactly in my way, moving with me as I try to pass.  It's like they know...

 

The second, and arguably most annoying, group needs some explanation.  If you're Israeli, you know exactly the stereotype of arsim and frechot.  For those who don't, I've found this hysterical video that explains the arsim stereotype, with a short cameo of who frechot are.  Watch it before continuing.

 





Warning, I'm about to feed into a stereotype A LOT.  Just be aware.  So basically, you have these overly masculine, arrogant, slightly ignorant men, or arsim and these overly made-up, high pitched air heads who make up the female counterpart, or frechot.  They typically travel in groups, too, which makes them even more dangerous.  They knowingly won't move for a bicycle, and I've gotten very close to flattening a few over the past few weeks.  The trick is to not give up your space and just keep going.  It's like a constant game of chicken, wondering who's going to give in and move first.  Thank goodness, the sheer heft on my bike gives me a significant advantage.  I'm not gonna lie - I've considered making a game out of it and assigning points based on just how stereotypical my opponents are and how hard they are to get out of my way.  I'm sure I'm getting a reputation as "that bitchy blonde girl on the bike."

 

Also, when you're on a bike, and I guess just in general in Israeli life, people really feel the need to give you their opinions about things, especially YOUR things.  The most poignant example just happened to me yesterday.  I was stopped at a stoplight, waiting to cross, and this taxi pulled into the turn lane with his window down because it was a GORGEOUS day.  He promptly started talking to me and lecturing me on how I need to wear sunscreen if I'm going to be riding my bicycle around in the desert.  I mean, I realize that I'm eggshell white, and it didn't help that I was wearing a dress with biking shorts underneath, exposing my transparent legs, but seriously?  Also, guys think that if they compliment on how cute my bike is that I'll actually stop and talk to them.  What, you've never seen a cute American in a dress on a bicycle before?  Sometimes in heels, I might add.  :) 

 

And those are my current rants of being an Israeli cyclist.  Amateur for sure, but I'm loving every minute of it.  So, I need to go put on sunscreen and get ready for my next adventure.  Until next time!



Israeli Famous

As promised, here is a translation of the piece I wrote for the Channel 2 news here in Israel.  If you want to see the original article in Hebrew, go to this link.  Enjoy!
 
The First 6 Months

My first Yom Hatzmaut is quickly approaching, and I’m happy to finally be here celebrating as an Israeli.  I’ve only been here half a year, but it feels like much longer.  In this short amount of time, I have experienced more than a lot of olim experience in their first ten years, and I feel like I’m ready for just about anything.  So, let’s recap this “Year of Firsts”!

October 2012 – I landed at Ben Gurion airport and walked into Israel for the first time as an Israeli.   Little did I know what would be waiting for me with this new identity…

 Me in Jerusalem with my Teudat Zehut – officially Israeli!

October 28, 2012 – At 0530 in the morning, I experienced my first azaka (air raid siren) in my home of Be’er Sheva.  Nothing prepares you for that piercing sound, especially when it wakes you from a dead sleep.  I had no idea what was coming for me in just two short weeks…

November 2012 – I sang “Hatikva” for the first time as an Israeli at a Yithak Rabin memorial ceremony.  I had chills all over and felt an overwhelming pride for my new country. 

November 14, 2012 – Not even a month in Israel, and I was in the middle of my first war, Amud Anon.  There were lots of firsts with the war:  first time being stuck outside for an azaka, first time smelling and feeling an explosion, first time doubting if I had made the right decision to make aliyah.  I also drove through the “war zone” of the South and saw rockets explode in the sky like fireworks.  I got stuck in a traffic jam that was caused by a rocket that hit the road.  And finally, I successfully made my first schuna (in other words, we made a scene) in Hertizliyah with other “Southern refugees,” acting crazy and getting a huge discount on dinner because we were all from Be’er Sheva.

 

Me and the dog stuck in the Mamad, pretending we could actually sleep.


At a friend’s house, ready to run to the shelter in my cowboy boots.  War makes you a little crazy.

December 2012 – For the first time, someone thought I was some nationality other than American.  Lots of people try to speak Russian to me now, but that makes more sense than the guy at a club who thought I was Moroccan.  When he didn’t believe me, I spoke to him in English with a good Southern accent, and he responded in Hebrew, “Why is this Moroccan pretending she can speak English?!”

January 2013 – This was a big month of firsts.  I learned what a checkpoint looks like as I drove right past it and into the West Bank accidentally.  I also learned how scary it is to drive past Hebron in the middle of the night, not knowing exactly when I was going to get back into Israel.

When I returned the rental car that took me on the last adventure, for the first time, I actually stood up for myself when the worker told me I hadn’t put enough gas in the car.  I knew very well I had, and I’ve never felt more Israeli than when I told him to go put gas in it himself. 

January 21, 2013 – Some brilliant person thought it would be a good idea to let me vote in a national election soon after making aliyah, so that was another first.  I proudly voted for Yair Lapid after lots of research.  It didn’t hurt that he’s a hottie, and I also learned the Hebrew word for “hunk” because of him.

 

In the voting booth.

February 2013 – I started getting more confident in my ability to speak Hebrew, and I made my first big fadicha with a tiny spelling mistake.  Instead of writing: "אני חושבת שאקבל ציון גבוה" I wrote "זיון גבוה" (“I think I’ll get a high grade” but instead, I wrote, “high fuck”).  I also randomly started to remember various Russian words instead of the Hebrew words.  Let’s just say I got a 1 + 1 deal in my ulpan class.

March 2013 – I bought a bicycle for my birthday at the beginning of March, and I’ve turned into an Israeli driver.  A car cut me off the other day, and I threw my hands up and screamed at him, ending my complaints with “ya maniac!”

I also started working in my first Israeli job at the end of March in a clothing store.  I’m still not sure why men think it is okay to just try on clothes in the middle of the store.  I’ve seen more back hair and fat than I ever thought I would in my whole life.  Gentlemen, there’s a dressing room for a reason!  I’m walking out of the store the first time a guy tries on pants on the sales floor.

April 2013 – Probably as a result of being tired from the new job, I was in Aroma one morning, and I really wanted orange juice, but I asked for a potato instead.  I know, these two words are not so close, but in my head, there is a connection.

Passover 2013 will be forever remembered as the first Passover where I gained weight.  We don’t have the luxury of Kosher for Passover food in Arkansas, and so normally, this week is one of suffering and dieting.  This year, I literally ate so much one day that I couldn’t comfortably eat for 27 hours, and another day I had to excuse myself from the table to go take a nap. 

Along with Passover came my first Mimuna.  I have been excited about going to a Mimuna since I learned that it even existed.  Be sure, I was not let down.  Me and my group of best friends went to a Mimuna all together, eating mufletta, singing ridiculous songs, and learning how to kululululu.

Eating my FIRST mufletta at my FIRST mimuna!

 

The best friends (who I aptly named the chofrim) teaching me how to be Israeli.

Yom HaShoa 2013 – This day was more powerful than I ever thought it could be.  I experienced my first siren (which I was panicked about because of my trauma from the war), and I was amazed at how an entire country can stand still to honor those lives lost in the Shoa.  The respect Israelis have for this day was overwhelming and beautiful.

And next?  My first Yom Hatzmaut, exactly on my six month anniversary of making aliyah.  I’m so excited to see what the next six months has in store…

The Chills of Yom HaShoa

Yom HaShoa, Holocaust Remembrance Day.  I definitely wasn't prepared for how powerful this day would be here in Israel.  It's a different, more intense feeling, definitely because of the deep connection this country has to the horrors of the Holocaust and the triumphs of the Jewish people afterward.  It has honestly been hard to get back to that feeling of profound sadness, and I've been dreading writing this, a bit, just because of how much it shook me.

I first started feeling the buzz of the day Sunday night.  As I'm sure many of you know (or maybe I've mentioned it before), all of our holidays start at sundown the evening before.  I had worked all day and had come home to crash before going to scavenge for food since I hadn't been grocery shopping.  I took the dog on a walk with dreams of falafel dancing in my hungry head only to find everything closed up tight.  Everything.  Even the little convenience store that is open on Shabbat was closed.  That's the first time it hit me just how heavy this holiday is for everyone here.  I retreated to my house and cooked all that I had, plain chicken breast and spinach.  Which, in retrospect, would have been a feast for a lot of people, especially those whose memories we were recalling.  And now I'm feeling a bit guilty about complaining as much as I did. 

I was a little panicked about the next morning because my friends had informed me that at 10am, there would be a two minute long siren to honor the memory of those lost in the Holocaust.  This brought back horrible fears of the war and the constant sirens, but I was assured that this siren sounded different.  I nervously watched the clock all morning, and when 10am came, the piercing siren started.  However, this did not evoke a sense of fear in me but more, a sense of chilling realization.  I stood at my window, trying to calm the frightened dog, and I watched as the street behind my house became empty as people actually stopped on the road to show respect.  I reflected on why we were all stopping, and I was initially hit with a wave of sadness connected to this tragedy.  But curiously, I was next hit with a sense of pride in that I am living proof that the Jewish people have succeeded and survived.  I am here, living the dream, and continuing on the Jewish legacy.  By living my life, by just being alive, I was honoring all those lives lost.  The fact that I was finally living my life in a Jewish place and living to strengthen the nation of Israel was an even profounder way of honoring their memories.  A lot passed through my head in those two minutes, obviously, but it was so powerful.  Just to give you a taste, watch this video of how my country reacted to this siren and how they honored those 6 million lives.  It's worth it to watch it all the way to the end and experience what we did. 

I felt so proud of the fact that I am Israeli, and I watched as other new olim reacted to what they had also just experienced for the first time on Facebook.  Pretty amazing stuff.

On a different note, there was also another feeling throughout that day.  As I was waiting for my dinner to be done Sunday night, I got an alert on my phone saying that, yet again, there had been a rocket attack in Southern Israel.  That mix of emotions was hard to take.  The fear, the anger, the sadness, the cynicism, the almost hopelessness.  What's worse is that it interrupted a Holocaust Remembrance ceremony...here's another video just to show you the reality of the situation.  The woman is saying "Red Alert, Red Alert" as the kids instinctively bolt for shelter.  This town, Sderot, only has 15 seconds to reach a safe place before the impact of the incoming rocket(s).  And what timing, while these brave residents were honoring those lost in the Holocaust. 

I'll leave you with that on which to reflect, but rest assured, our next posts will be FUN as Israeli Independence Day is just around the corner.  Shabbat Shalom! 

Another Day, Another Fadicha

In case I haven't taught you this word yet, you really need to know the Hebrew word "fadicha."  It means like a screw up, an embarrassment, a fiasco, and I make a lot of them when I'm speaking Hebrew.  As promised, here is my funny story about my most recent language mishap. 

I was working in the fitting room in the guys' section at the Bat Yam store near Tel Aviv (where I'm training until our huge store opens in Be'er Sheva).  This handsome guy walks in, and I give him a room.  A few minutes later, his friend comes in and asks me something I didn't quite understand fully, until the end when I realized he was looking for his friend.  So, I said to him, "You're friend is here."  However, in this curious language, the word "friend" is also frequently used to describe a significant other.  This is not something they taught us in ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes), and furthermore, they didn't teach us that there is a word to use to describe someone as strictly a friend ("yadid" instead of "chaver").  Back to our scene...so, the guy thought that I thought that he and his friend were a couple, and he quickly and defensively corrected my Hebrew.  I know I blushed, and I got so embarrassed, but I really couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Oh, right."  Now, I'm very careful to use these words correctly...even though normal Israelis aren't so careful about their word choice.  ::sigh::  Being a new immigrant...

As for an Artur update, you guys helped get him over 900 votes!  That's amazing because they were all genuine and organic.  Sadly enough, he didn't make it to the finals, although it was VERY close.  My theory is that he's just too good and so above the rest that the judges didn't think it was fair for him to be involved.  :P  He and I both appreciate all the support...if you want more, just go to his YouTube channel. 

In other exciting news, I was called by the same reporter who did a story on me during the war, and he asked me to write about all the "firsts" I have had as an Israeli leading up to Israeli Independence Day next week.  I worked really hard on the article, and I am happy to report that it will be published in the online version of Channel 2 here in Israel.  Of course, I'll post a link and a translation when it happens, either Monday or Tuesday.  Even cooler is that I realized that Israeli Independence Day corresponds exactly with my 6 month Aliyah-versary.  I can't believe it's already been half a year!  Wow...things just keep getting better and better. 

Until next time, my dear readers!