this is a post about walls

I originally wrote this post for the Pardes student blog - it covers some of what I talked about in my last post, as well as discussing my trip to Bethlehem last weekend.

Two weeks ago, my grandfather passed away. He had been ill for a long time, and it was not a sudden death, but it has been nonetheless a difficult experience. At his funeral, my uncle shared a story about my grandfather that has become something of a mantra for me in the last few weeks:

“My last conversation with him was two weeks ago. I went to him and he gave me a kiss and hug and a brilliant smile. And then he said to me, “Bob, I have to talk to you about the garbage.” I said, “Dad, the garbage??” And he said, “Yes, the garbage!” Then he raised his hands, and got a rueful expression on his face, with a little smile. “It is not our garbage, but it has fallen upon us to take care of it…” and he pointed to himself, “so I am going to send your mother out for the supplies, and later, we will take care of it.”

This was my father, Max Singer. He knew there was garbage in the world. It did not matter to him that it was someone else’s garbage. He felt a responsibility anyway, and willingly took on the obligation to heal the world without complaint, without objection, with equanimity and grace. He wanted to help without fanfare, and he did the right thing because it needed to be done.”

I want to share two stories about powerful experiences that I have had in the last week. Both stories are moving, in very different ways. Both stories involve experiences I shared with multiple other Pardes students, who I know have their own opinions and reactions about what happened. Both stories touch on difficult political and religious issues. And, most importantly, both of these stories involve walls.

By now, hopefully all of you have heard about what happened with the Women of the Wall at the Kotel last Wednesday (in case you haven’t, I wrote a blog post about it here). The short version of the story is that a woman named Nofrat Frenkel was arrested for wearing a tallit and holding a sefer Torah, and is now under investigation, with criminal charges pending. If convicted, she faces up to six months in prison and a 10,000 NIS fine, as well as serious repercussions to her future medical career.

The (slightly) longer version is this. On Wednesday morning, I woke up early and got into a cab with several other Pardes students. We arrived at the Kotel bright and early to join the Women of the Wall in their Rosh Chodesh prayers. After twenty years of fighting for equality at the Kotel, the Women of the Wall have been granted the right to gather for one hour each month to pray in a group, as long as they adhere to the “customs” of the wall. I arrived at the Wall with my friends expecting verbal abuse and potential physical abuse, however, we prayed our morning service completely under the radar of the people around us.

Because of this success, we decided to attempt to read Torah at the Wall, rather than to relocate to Robinson’s Arch, as is the usual Women of the Wall practice. What seemed like a beautiful, successful morning quickly soured and was desecrated by shouting and threats from assorted officers, culminating in the arrest of Nofrat Frenkel, our shaliach tzibur (prayer leader), who also happened to be visibly wrapped in a tallit and holding a Torah when we were joined by a police officer.

There are several articles discussing these events, my own blog included, and each one of them talks about a different thing. Some of them focus on the history, others focus on whether Nofrat was practicing her religion or making a political statement. There are articles that talk about Robinson’s Arch as a perfect substitute for the Kotel, and articles that quote the Chief Rabbi of the Kotel as saying that “They behaved like [biblical] Korach and his assembly.”

What I struggle with is what comes next. With December will come another Rosh Chodesh, and another meeting of the Women of the Wall. What will we find, when we arrive at the Kotel on December 18^th? Will I be brave enough this time to wrap my tallit outside of my jacket, as opposed to under it, as I was instructed to do last Wednesday? Will I, too, be brave enough to stand up in the face of angry, powerful men and respond to questions about my tallit by saying “I wear it because it’s a mitzvah. Where is yours?”

My second story starts in a similar fashion – I woke up (considerably later, this time around), and met two of my friends on the corner of Derech Hevron and Ein Gedi, where we got on the 21 bus to Bethlehem. We had been invited to spend Shabbat with another friend of mine, and I for one had leapt at the chance to visit. It was my first trip to the West Bank, and therefore my first trip through a checkpoint, and my first chance to examine Israel’s second famous wall.

In my head and when I speak, the security barrier is always referred to as The Wall – capitalized and bolded for emphasis. I remember learning about the fence as a teenager in a Young Judaea program, when construction had first begun in earnest, and spending two hours arguing about why it was being constructed and what we should call it. The terminology seemed incredibly important to me at the time, and it still does – you’ll notice I’ve called it three different things in two sentences, and each title carries a different weight and connotation.

You can read and talk about life in the West Bank until you’re blue in the face, but you’ll never understand what it’s actually like until you travel there yourself, and even then you will only understand a fraction of what there is to understand. The same goes for seeing the wall – it’s easy to sit in my comfortable Jerusalem apartment and argue about the benefits of a security barrier vs. the flaws of a security system that creates and maintains human rights violations every day, and an entirely different one to see the benefit of a physical wall that separates families from their land, cities from civilization, and human beings from control over their own lives.

The first thing I noticed about the wall was the graffiti – it’s difficult to notice anything else, because it’s so bountiful and beautiful and powerful. Some of it is professional, some of it is casual, but all of it means something. I took picture after picture; if I could capture the entire thing I would, and I hope that someone in the world is taking on the project of documenting the artwork. This is the first picture I took, of a tic-tac-toe board and the words “this is not a game.” The image brings to mind a lot of things – the futility of the struggle between Israelis and Palestinians, the recognition that the wall has a serious impact on the people on either side, and in one of the more petty parts of my brain, the movie War Games.

I saw another section of wall graffitied with the following words – “here is a wall at which to weep” – and it was at this point that the connection I had been making in my head between the wall in Bethlehem and the Kotel that I visited last week snapped in to focus.

These are walls with multiple meanings. On the one hand, they are about safety and protection – safeguarding a people, protecting a religion. But on the other hand, they are about power – they are about showing the world who is in charge, and who holds the upper hand. And it is that part – the usage of these walls as methods of control – that I simply cannot stand for. How can I live in a country that does not support my right to pray the way that I choose, in what many consider the holiest part of the holiest city in the world? And how can I love a country where the government is allowed to illegally seize land by building an impenetrable barrier between itself and some of its citizens?

I live here because this is where Jews are meant to live. For all of my doubts about whether or not the Kotel is a place I want to pray, and for all of my frustrations with the actions of the Israeli government, I live here in this place because it is the land of my family and my people and my ancestors. But I refuse to simply live here and accept the status quo. This Israel, that protects men who verbally and physically abuse women who simply wish to pray in the holiest fashion they know, can never be my Israel. This Israel, which builds walls to protect itself and in the process commits human rights violations, is not a country I am proud of.

It would be easy to simply leave. To make a phone call and change my plane ticket and go back to a part of the world where things make relative amounts of sense, and the problems that need to be dealt with are problems that I feel I have at least a chance of solving. But Israel means too much to me to do that. And so, next Friday, I will travel to Hebron on a Breaking the Silence trip, to learn about the culture of silence surrounding military corruption in Israel. And on December 18^th, Rosh Chodesh Tevet, I will go back to the Kotel with the Women of the Wall, and I will pray wrapped in a tallit as I believe I am commanded to do. It’s time. I am cleaning up the garbage.

Day 99: Not All Weeks Are Created Equal

This is another long one - mostly because this week has had some amazing ups and some distressing lows and it's hard to talk about either one briefly. Bear with me.

I have always enjoyed cooking and baking - when I was younger, I remember loving when I got to pull out the step stool in the kitchen so that I could see the counter tops and help cook dinner. I learned how to make all sorts of good food standing at that counter next to my mom - meatballs, spaghetti sauce, snickerdoodles, macaroni and cheese, steamed artichokes, a good grilled cheese and a great egg in a raft. And I distinctly remember when my father decided he wanted to learn how to bake - I learned right along with him, acting as sous chef and getting to do all of the fun things like crack eggs and dump flour into the mixer.

In the last two years, cooking and baking have become something of a stress-relief activity for me. I enjoy the process of finding a recipe, shopping for ingredients, preparing and assembling a great meal or a wonderful dessert. It's something concrete - the steps don't change, no matter what you're putting together. I also get a lot of joy out of providing food for others - it's such an easy way to make people happy, and I've found that my friends are always grateful when presented with a cookie or a cupcake or a really well made salad.

It makes me so happy to learn that this year at Pardes I'm gaining a little bit of a reputation as a baker - it's not something I purposefully attempted to do, but knowing that the things I've been putting effort into have been making people happy is a really great feeling. I love that in the past few weeks I've brought two different people over who wanted baking lessons (once for challah and once for cupcakes) and that both times, they've left with new knowledge, a good memory or two, and some delicious baked goods.

Another thing that I've always gotten a lot of joy out of is sewing and making clothing, a talent which has been a little underutilized since I came to Jerusalem because I left my sewing machine behind in Chicago. A few weeks ago, however, I was approached by a friend looking for some assistance with a clothing related project. In Numbers 15:38-40, God commands the Israelites to bind a fringe to the corners of their garments; this fringe is called tzitzit, and it's found on the corners of tallitot. In many observant communities, it is a custom for men to wear not just a tallit, but also a tallit katan (basically an undershirt with four distinct corners and tzitzit tied to each corner). It is becoming more and more common for women to take on this mitzvah as well, however, it isn't something that has hit the mainstream and so it is difficult for women to find tallitot katanot that fit them well.

My friend asked me for assistance in converting some of her form fitting tank tops into tallitot katanot - a process that involved opening up the side seams to create four distinct corners and sewing a buttonhole into each corner so that the tzitzit would have a finished hole to be tied through. We spent a really lovely evening together figuring out the logistics of completing this project, both in terms of the halacha involved and the construction steps necessary. I was really glad to be able to help her take this step on her Jewish journey, and also really enjoyed getting back into the simple rhythm of using a needle and thread.

And now for the not so great stuff. On Tuesday of this past week, I woke up to the news that my maternal grandfather had gone off of dialysis. In conjunction with this came the realization that my mother had a major surgery scheduled for Wednesday which could not be rescheduled. My grandfather passed away on Friday, and the funeral will be tomorrow (Sunday) afternoon.

It's really difficult to be away from my family during this time. I want to be there for my mom, and my grandmother, and to be with my dad and my brothers and my extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins. We're taking great advantage of Skype and cell phones and gchats but it's not the same as getting and giving a real life hug or being able to hold someone's hand.

My friends here have been amazing - calling to check up on me, offering hugs and condolences and prayers. So many people have asked if I needed anything, and simply been present when I've needed a shoulder to lean on or a friendly face. The same goes for my friends in the States - offering up words of wisdom and listening to me talk about my Grandpa Max.

I have a lot of really complicated thoughts about everything that's going on with my family. Suffice it to say, this has been a very difficult year, and while I appreciate the lessons I've learned in stress management, resiliency, and grieving, I would also really appreciate a few months where nothing crazy happens in my life. I wish that I were able to go home, and I struggle with the fact that I was pretty sure I was going to face this situation before I left the States. Mostly, though, I'm just really sad, and while I know it will get better in the long run, it's not so easy right now.

Day 88: Israel is a very small place

It's been a little while since I've updated - all sorts of things have been happening here! A few quick highlights include:

• Ulpan classes are in full swing and are going very well! Hebrew is flooding back into my brain, which is a great feeling.
• I've started writing for the new Pardes student blog (along with seven or so other students), which you can read here.
• Tofu! Pardes has a tofu co-op which I am currently organizing (taking orders from students, placing the order with Simcha-the-tofu-lady and dealing with sorting out the delivery). I get a free kilo of tofu with every order, so it's pretty worthwhile for me.
• Vegetables! Miriam and Sarah and I joined a CSA called ח'ביזה עלי (alay chubeza - I don't actually know what it means) and now a lovely box of vegetables gets delivered to my apartment every week. It's fantastic. Last week there were eggplants, sweet potatoes, a big piece of squash, corn, lettuce, rocket greens, scallions, bell peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes. And cilantro. I'm in vegetable heaven.

I have a lot of stories from the last two weeks, but here are two particularly good ones. The first one starts on the Friday night before Simchat Torah (October 9th, for those playing the home game). Miriam and Sara (Gunning) and I all went to our friend Jessica and Amy's apartment for Shabbat dinner. We had a really wonderful evening - one of the other guests was actually someone that Sara taught with at Beth Emet, which was a nice surprise. While we were there, Amy asked us if we had met her friend Jeremy yet - he works for Btselem, a human rights organization here in Israel. The answer was no - or at least, not yet.

The next day, Sara and I went to Nava Tehila for Simchat Torah services - Nava Tehila is a Renewal minyan here in Jerusalem, which mostly means that there's a lot of really beautiful singing. The service was very spiritual and joyful, and at one point we unrolled the whole Torah scroll and held it up in a circle with our tallitot. Sara was standing on one side of me, and there was a gentleman I'd never met before on my right, so I introduced myself and started chatting. His name is Jeremy, and it turns out that he works for Btselem, and knows Amy and Jessica... Small world, right?

Jeremy is also a central figure in the second story, because it's actually mostly his story. Jeremy's father is Israeli by birth, but his family moved out of Israel when Jeremy's father was two years old. Jeremy came to Jerusalem to work for Btselem, which is a great human rights organization that doesn't have the best relationship with the Israeli government, for a lot of reasons. Anyway, after Jeremy got here, he went to apply for a work visa, and was asked where his parents were born. Upon mentioning that his father was born in Israel, Jeremy was informed that he couldn't apply for a work visa because he's actually an Israeli citizen, and so what he needed to do was make aliyah.

For a lot of complicated reasons, and also some pretty simple and obvious ones, Jeremy didn't actually want to make aliyah, but it wound up being his only feasible option for the time being. And so on Friday I found myself hanging out on the Tayelet with Miriam, Sara, Jeremy, and Jeremy's friend Avital having a little mock-aliyah party, celebrating the insanity that is the Israeli government. And in another example of the world being small, it turns out that Avital, who went to Berkeley, knows Kelly (one of my AVODAH roommates and current good friend). Crazy!

Beyond the fact that the world is fairly small, I think Jeremy's story is really interesting because it highlights a weird part of being in Israel. I get the sense sometimes, both from Israelis and Americans, that in order to be a good Jew I have to want to live in Israel forever. Which, frankly, isn't something I think I'll ever want. I have far too much of a life in the United States to ever really be comfortable with the idea of moving to Israel, and that doesn't even begin to address the ideological problems I have with making aliyah. Anyway, talking with Jeremy about his situation has just reminded me how complicated living here actually is, and how far from home I really am. It's easy to forget you're living in a foreign country when you spend most of your time with other Americans, but it turns out that things are really different here! Who knew? :)

Day 72: a new month is here

The last time I posted, I was planning to take a trip to Tel Aviv for the Nachalat Binyamin craft fair and some quality time at the beach. I wound up going with Lauren and Shira, and had an absolutely fantastic day. First of all, the Nachalat Binyamin craft fair is amazing - it's all Israeli artists, and while (as at any street fair) some of the stuff is less than stellar, there's also a large quantity of really beautiful work. Jewelry, Judaica, toys, wall hangings, scarves, paintings... Lauren and Shira and I walked through the fair for almost two hours, and had a really good time. I didn't wind up purchasing anything, because I just couldn't make a decision about what I wanted, but I will certainly be going back there in the future.

That afternoon, we went to the beach where I put my feet into the Mediterranean for the first time in my life. Lauren, in all her rabbinical student glory, even knew the blessing to say upon seeing the Mediterranean for the first time, so we had a nice moment when we put our feet in the water.

As I lay on my blanket in the sun, I came to the realization that I am a little bit of a beach addict. I have always thought of myself as a mountain girl - mostly because of my love for the beautiful, beautiful Appalachian mountains, but also because I love hiking, and camping, and being surrounded by trees. However, as I lay on the beach soaking up the sun and swimming in the warm water, it occurred to me that I felt more relaxed than I have felt the entire time I've been in Israel. There's something about being next to a large body of water that's so soothing - the sun, and the smell, and the sound all combine to make one happy Naomi. In Chicago, I made a point in the summer of spending my Sunday afternoons at the lake for a lot of the same reasons (the water is not quite so warm in Chicago, even in July and August...). I guess it's just something to keep in mind when I work my way back to the States in the spring.

Since that afternoon, I've been thinking a lot about how to bring that level of calm into the rest of my life here in Jerusalem. I'm not absurdly stressed out, but getting through the holidays in Jerusalem is a bit of a long haul, and I feel like I'm only just able to really start settling into life here.

One of the big issues I'm currently tackling is my relationship to the Hebrew language - I am, for the first time that I can remember, nervous about speaking to people in stores. As a child, I was taught all of the same lessons my friends were taught - don't speak to strangers! Don't approach people you don't know! But in the South, there's a sense of familiarity that we all grow up with - when you're in a grocery store, it's alright to chat with the person next to you looking at cantaloupes, or the person in front of you in the check-out line. Commenting on a museum exhibit to the person standing next to you is totally socially acceptable, whether you know them or not. When I was at Brandeis, I often had strange interactions with people in public spaces, because I would talk to everyone, and they had no idea how to react to that. But here, in Jerusalem, I find it genuinely difficult to open my mouth in public.

Mostly it has to do with the language barrier. I'm scared of making a mistake, and having people know that I'm *gasp* American. I don't have a lot of confidence in my Hebrew fluency, so I don't speak, so I don't get better, so I don't have confidence... It's difficult for me to reconcile feeling so comfortable with the neighborhood I live in in terms of knowing how to get from Point A to Point B, and not knowing how to ask for directions if I wander off of my path. I don't really have that much of a problem looking silly in public, but when checking out in the grocery store involves me answering questions by looking bewildered and shrugging, it starts to feel a little uncomfortable.

I'm definitely getting better - not necessarily at speaking, but at learning the right words so that I can understand when people speak to me. Also, I just started an ulpan (modern Hebrew class) that meets twice a week in the evenings at Pardes, so I'm getting in a lot of practice in a safe space. My first ulpan class was so much fun - it was such a relief to be sitting in a classroom where the only thing I had to think about was speaking modern Hebrew, as opposed to biblical Hebrew and the Torah, or struggling through Aramaic in the mishna. I found that I remember a lot more than I think I do - I just need some practice accessing that part of my brain again. And then I need to start speaking in public, but that's definitely a future step in the process.

The next two days are Rosh Hodesh Cheshvan, Cheshvan being either the second or the eighth month of the Hebrew calendar (it depends on who you're asking...). Cheshvan is often referred to as Mar Cheshvan (in Hebrew, Mar means bitter) because it is a month without any Jewish festivals, and therefore a month without rejoicing. I went to a Rosh Hodesh group tonight, where we talked a lot about the positive aspects of Cheshvan - for example, the fact that there are no chagim in Cheshvan means that you can actually settle into a routine, and begin living up to all of your Rosh Hashannah resolutions. And with that, I think I'll get started on one of my Rosh Hashannah resolutions, which is to get more sleep!

Hodesh tov! Enjoy the new moon!

Day 59: this might get long

"The real problem with Israel isn't the Arabs - it's the Israelis."

I came out of the woods with this written on my arm - it's a quote from Dan, the hostel owner's son who helped us out while we were staying up north. Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, Miriam told me that she and a few of her friends were planning a trip up to Haifa, or maybe to the Galilee. Cool, I said. Let me know if it's actually going to happen, because I'd love to come with you. I had no idea what I was signing myself up for. Last Tuesday afternoon, after our Sukkot Yom Iyun (day of learning), Miriam found me and let me know that she and Laura, Lauren, and Evelyn were sitting down to plan their trip leaving the next day and coming back Friday morning, and would I like to join them?

The plan was to rent a car, leave Jerusalem early Wednesday morning and drive to Moshav Almagor, home of the Sea of Galilee Guest House where we stayed Wednesday night and Thursday night, and then leave Almagor early on Friday so we would get back to Jerusalem in time for Shabbat.

Things started off a little rocky - we planned to leave at 9, but it wound up taking about two and a half hours just to pick up the rental car, so we didn't actually leave until 11:30ish. And then, about fifteen minutes into our exodus from Jerusalem, we got in a fender bender. Not our fault - the person behind us wasn't paying attention and rear-ended us. There was almost no damage, and we were paying an arm and a leg for insurance, so it wound up not being that big of a deal, just a little dramatic.

We got to the moshav in the mid-afternoon, with just enough time to run over to the moshave grocery store to pick up some supplies. The hostel was absolutely gorgeous - orange trees and flowering bushes and multiple hammocks for lounging. We stayed in their dormitory, which was both cheaper and more convenient for us, because there was no reason to split up - you can see pictures here.

On Wednesday night we drove up to Rosh Pinna for dinner at a restaurant called Indigo. There were figs and mushrooms stuffed with goat cheese and shakshuka and stuffed artichokes, and Lauren and I shared a fantastic chocolate cake for dessert. Reasons this restaurant is awesome include: amazing food, a sukkah!, a waitress who spoke to us in Hebrew even though we used English menus, and excellent placement near a mall so that Laura could buy herself some shoes for our hike the next day.

Thursday morning we got up and called Dan, the son of the hostel owner who had checked us in the day before. On Wednesday he had mentioned that if we needed help finding a hiking trail, we should feel free to call him and he would come by to help us out. Dan was a pretty stereotypical Israeli farmer - long hair, very tan, very laid back... We asked him for a water hike, and he directed us to a trail that runs through\near some of his fields (he farms pomegranates and mangoes). It was an adventure from top to bottom. A majority of the trail was actually in the water, generally somewhere around mid-calf, but occasionally getting up to mid torso. It was fairly well marked, and we managed not to get lost (some people I was hiking with might tell you a different story, but I'm pretty sure I knew we were on the trail the whole time...), but it was definitely a commitment. We wound up not finishing, mostly because we got to yet another section involving almost-swimming, and the majority of the group was too tired to go on.

We called Dan for a rescue - he came to pick us up in his truck, along with his two employees (both migrant laborers, probably Thai, potentially undocumented) and some freshly picked pomegranates that he cracked open for us on the spot. He was polite enough not to laugh at us for not finishing, and to give us a tour of his fields on our way back to our car. And that's when the opening quote was uttered, because we drove through the campgrounds on the moshav only to find them totally trashed by the previous weekend's campers. There was garbage everywhere - and not just a few empty bottles, but a broken chair, half empty bags of charcoal, and bits and pieces of tents strewn about. It was a little shocking to see nature that had been so thoroughly destroyed after spending four beautiful hours in the Jordan river.

Rather than go back to the hostel and change, we drove straight to the Golan Heights Winery for a wine tasting. Dad, this is for you - we tasted a Sauvingon Blanc (I liked it) a Cabernet Sauvingon (I didn't like it) and a Muscat (I liked it in small quantities) - and yes, I swirled and sniffed all three. It was pretty funny to be sitting in the middle of a winery dressed in all of my damp hiking clothes, but we were pretty much the only people there because it was pretty late in the day, so it didn't really matter.

We drove back to the hostel to clean up and do a little journaling\resting, and then we drove to Tiberias for dinner. If you come to Israel, don't go to Tiberias. I'm sure it has redeeming qualities, but I haven't found any of them yet. The part of Tiberias we were in is pretty much a giant tourist trap, and it was unpleasant. We decided to go there in search of good fish and chips, and while we found fish and chips, it wasn't the best I've ever had. They did serve us whole fish, which I wasn't really expecting - generally when I've had fish and chips the fish has been a little more processed... My photos from the trip are up here - none of me, because I don't take pictures of myself, but you can in fact see the whole fish both before and after I ate. :)

Friday brought its own set of surprises - in the car on the way back from the Galilee, I got a phone call from a woman named Judith, inviting me to come to lunch on Saturday. Judith who? I said, and then told her I would call her back later. It turns out that Judith and I are related, distantly. Her daughter Rivka is my father's second cousin, and I think if you had to diagram my relationship to Judith it would be my paternal grandfather's first cousin's wife, making her my grand-cousin-in-law. Or something like that.

Anyway, Judith lives in Holon and Rivka lives in Tel Aviv, and they were gathering the family for a big Shabbat\Sukkot lunch and wanted me to join them. So on Saturday morning I took a cab to Yaffo street and hopped in a sherut to Tel Aviv, where Rivka picked me up at the central bus station and drove me to Judith's house. There were probably 25 people at lunch, all of whom I was related to in one way or another. I spent the most time talking to Adi, Rivka's daughter, and my (I think) third cousin. Adi is starting school in Beer Sheva in a week or two, and is a little nervous about moving away from home, but I think she'll do well. I'm certainly looking forward to developing more of a relationship with her (hopefully, eventually in Hebrew!). Lunch was a great experience, and everyone was very welcoming to me. I hope to see them again some time while I'm here in Israel.

Tomorrow I'm heading back to Tel Aviv for the Nachalat Benyamin craft fair, and potentially some time hanging out on the beach, and other than that, I have no plans for the week! It's nice to have some fluidity in terms of where I need to be and what I need to be doing

And that's more than enough recapping for one blog post - moadim l'simcha, and chag sameach to everyone!

Day 21: Jerusalem (Nachlaot)

The rest of my trip to Israel went fairly smoothly - Miriam got to JFK around 3:30 in the afternoon, so from that point on I was pretty entertained. She was staffing the flight for a group of NFTY kids going on EIE, which meant that we were traveling with 26 teenagers, most of whom assumed that I was also working for NFTY. I did the best I could to help out without having any actual authority or desire to control the group, so mostly I just answered questions and looked reassuring. One of the teens managed to misplace his passport (it was in his carry-on, which the flight attendants took from him at the gate and checked) and I stuck with him through the process of recovering it while Miriam took the rest of the kids through passport control and baggage claim. Once she turned them over to the NFTY in Israel staff we were free to go, so I hopped into a sherut (a shared van service), and was off on my way from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.

I'm sure the drive from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem is pretty, but I slept through the whole thing, so I actually have no idea. Maybe next time...

Sharon had e-mailed me directions to her apartment, so I knew generally where I was going, but not entirely. I had just paid the sherut driver and gotten all of my stuff together when I heard some of the best words I've heard in a while - "Excuse me, are you Naomi?" Yonatan (Sharon's boyfriend, who was meeting me at her apartment) had actually just arrived, and happened to see me on the sidewalk with all of my luggage and took a wild guess. I have never been so happy to be recognized by another human being.

Thursday afternoon is a bit of a blur - I spent time relaxing with Sharon and Yonatan in her apartment in Nachlaot, and then we went to spend some time with friends of theirs who happen to be leaving Israel tomorrow.

On Friday I had a beautiful first-real-day-in-Jerusalem experience. Sharon and I slept in a little, and then spent our morning doing some shopping at the shuk. We bought all sorts of lovely things - fruits and vegetables, bread, cheese, and some of the best ice cream I've eaten in a while. We also picked up some herbs at a flower shop down the street from Sharon's apartment, so now she has mint, basil, thyme, and zatar for tea and cooking and eventually for pesto.

Today has been a lovely, relaxing day - we slept in (I'm still catching up on rest from the journey!), and cooked breakfast, and then watched an episode of Top Chef. I have no idea what we'll be up to this evening, or what I'll be up to tomorrow, but I know tomorrow night I'll be going to a Pardes meet-the-students event, which should be really nice!

I don't think the reality of the situation has caught up with me yet - the fact that I live here now, and that I'll be staying for ten months. It all feels a little surreal.

Day 11: North Carolina

I've been home for a few days now, and they've been some of the most productive days I've had in a while! I've basically been sorting through all of my belongings, trying to get rid of clothes and belongings that I don't wear or use anymore, and unpacking everything I brought home from Chicago. I've done a ton of other stuff as well - went to see Julie and Julia with Mom, got a new carry-on suitcase for the flight to Israel, set up a new bank account that I can use abroad, picked up some fair trade tea for Sharon, etc.

It's definitely taking time to adjust to being out of Chicago - I'm doing a really big thing right now, and it's difficult to do it when my friends are all so far away, but it's also really nice to be home with my parents. Also, I'd forgotten how nice it can be to have a car! Don't get me wrong - I love public transit. I really, really do - I love taking the train to get places, and knowing how the bus system works. On the other hand, being able to walk out my front door and get into a car that's waiting for me and drive anywhere I want at my own pace, with my own soundtrack and control over the air-conditioning is amazing.

I'm starting to get really excited about Israel - Pardes posted the class schedule for the upcoming year, and I spent some time looking at that yesterday - I wanted to start highlighting things, but I've decided to hold off on making any major decisions about classes until I'm actually in Israel. I don't really need to worry about any of it right now, and I have other things to focus on! Look at me, taking things one step at a time. :)

Still on my to-do list are things like buying health insurance and an Israeli cell phone, both of which will probably happen this evening. Or tomorrow. Or maybe on Friday...

Day 3: Boston

Leaving Chicago has been difficult, as expected. I miss my friends. I miss my apartment. I miss the way Chicago feels and smells and sounds. The water here tastes funny.

Coming back to Boston has been a little strange for me - I was here briefly last November, but other than that I haven't really been in the area since graduation. I used to think that I could live here forever, but now I don't think I could live here at all. It's hard to explain, beyond a general sense that Boston doesn't fit right - something about being here feels itchy to my brain. Mostly, I think it's the constant refrain of "not Chicago, not Chicago," running through my head, but I also think it's the realization that I don't actually know that much about this city.

Staying with Jen has been really great, if a little awkward. She just moved into her apartment, and it was a little strange to be around for the first few days of her meeting her roommates - I think it's good that I'll be away for a few days, so that they can spend some time together. They have a lot of conversations ahead of them!

Yesterday was Brandeis day - Jen and I dropped by Student Activities and Hillel to say hello to our old bosses\advisers. I miss talking to those people every day - both of those organizations had a huge impact on my Brandeis life, and it's weird to me that I don't see them all of the time the way I used to. Last night we hung out in Waltham at the Floyd St. House - I got to see some old friends, and we watched a creepy movie called The Mist, which totally freaked me out. Giant insects are scary!!

Plans for the afternoon include hanging out with Miriam, and then dinner at with my aunt and uncle. Anne has graciously offered to drive me to New Jersey and back, for which I am incredibly grateful. Not having to take the bus and the train there and back will certainly make the trip less stressful.