One of Those Life Moments....

There are many times in our lives when we stop and realize, "OK, this is significant, this is one of those times you'll always remember."

One of those moments happened in the spring of 2009 when our eldest grandchild, Ariella, sang and danced with about 40 other Israeli kids in a groundbreaking event for their neighborhood shul. Knowing that she was now part of normative Israeli life, and that she and all of the other kids singing and dancing, most pretty badly, were going to be the future of the country, was enough to choke me up big time.

Another moment, among many we've had since our daughters made aliyah in 2008 and we made

aliyah in 2012, came this past week when that same little girl graduated from 6th grade.

The graduation event took place at Migdal David in Jerusalem - a historic and dramatic setting for sure, but the site itself was kind of overshadowed by the meaning of the event itself.

All of the kids, and there sere several hundred I believe, were involved in the presentation, which took 2 hours (beware, pre-aliyah'ers - every single school event takes at least two hours, even gan graduations).  There were dances, songs, poems, and instrument playing.

At one point each kid had an Israeli flag in his/her hand and marched around the paths of Migdal David - waving and singing.

Just think about it - each and every child in this graduating class will some day finish high school and go on to the Army to protect our country and our people.  Just knowing that gave me shivers - each of them has such an important stake in my own personal future and in the future of the Jews.

Knowing what is ahead of them, I can't help but believe that these kids have a much different view of their future than their peers in other countries - they know what's coming, they have such a strong, deep sense of purpose - and this is something they grew up with.

Another end of year event was my grandson Amichai being "interviewed" for first grade - when the principal asked him what he wanted to be, he said, "B'ezrat Hashem, a chayal [soldier], then an engineer."

B'ezrat Hashem.

I Have No Idea What You Just Said, Pt. 2

So Hebrew continues to be my greatest struggle here, although I have had people tell me my Hebrew is pretty good.  I mean, I can navigate important websites like online supermarkets, the bank, and the Kupat Cholim, and it's all good when I work on the shul emails for my shul, which have to be in English and Hebrew.

But it's the conversations that do me in.  I. Can. Not. Speak. Hebrew. To. An. Israeli.

Take, for instance, the past few days:

1. Less humiliating:

We went to talk to a car dealer.  In Israel, car buying is actually pretty easy because there is no haggling (surprised, aren't you?).  Seriously, the price is the price. And the inventory is low (I mean it's a small country where would they store the cars, after all? ), so you get what you can get, and don't worry about this trim package and that trim package, etc. etc. At least that is our experience.

The car salesman did not speak English.  His Hebrew was pretty clear, though.  But here I am listening to him and wondering how much of what I THINK he said, he actually said.  And how much did I get wrong.  I usually end up asking this question:  What is it that I HAVE TO DO RIGHT NOW?" - that usually gets me a clear answer.

2. A bit more humiliating:

Went today to get our old car inspected before it is sold.  Inspector guy comes to get me and we sit down and he goes over the details of the inspection certificate.  I have no idea what he is saying, so I keep asking, "But is it OK to sell right now?"  I don't know what he said in response to that.  It could have been yes, it could have been no, it could have been maybe.  

Then the inspector guy keeps talking and he TEARS UP THE INSPECTION CERTIFICATE.  I'm totally horrified - oh my gosh, what did I just agree to???  I say, now what should I do, thinking I've just authorized him to make thousands of shekel in repairs without realizing it.  I figured he's going to say, "Well, sit yourself down,honey, 'cause we are going to do thousands of shekel in repairs on your car!  Hahahaha!!!!Sucka!"  

Instead he says, "Well, what do you WANT to do?"  By this time I'm getting a headache.  I say, "I want to go."  He says, "So go."  I still have no idea what happened but I walked out with a new certificate (at least that's what I think it is).

3. Extremely humiliating:

While I'm waiting for the car to be inspected, I get a call from the mailman.  Yes, the mailman himself.  He has a package for me, and wants to come between.....and, for the life of me I think he is saying between "1:30 and 1:00."  So I'm pretty sure I got that wrong, so I say, "well, I"m not home now."  He hesitated, probably thinking, what the heck do I care if she's home now or not?"  

He said, again, "I'll come between...." and again I'm sure it was between 1:30 and 1:00.  I give up and say OK. The worst that can happen is that I won't be home and he'll leave a note.

I get off the phone and all of the other people in the waiting room are kinda looking at me (maybe that was my imagination).  And slowly I realize that the time he gave me was between 11 and 1, not 1:30 and 1:00.  When he said "achad esrei" I kept thinking "achad v'chetzi."

BTW, the package was delivered.  I think the mailman was snickering when he dropped it off.  

I Have No Idea What You Just Said

These three things happened to me just today.

Phone call #1:

Got a phone call.  Someone speaking Hebrew reallyreallyquickly.  I answered, "Lo hevanti" [transl: HUH?]

She spoke a bit slower - something about my husband and challos.  Hmm, knowing my husband, who is still recovering from the trauma that was Tax Season 2015, he probably bought challos and left them in the store. 

OK, I answered (in Hebrew that is "OK"), he'll come back for them. Since there was not the usual moment of silence after I speak Hebrew (during which the Israelis realize that I have not understood a word of the conversation), I figured I'd gotten it right.

Restaurant:

We have been here for three years.  We have learned a lot of Hebrew, ok?  Really!  So when I walked into the restaurant today and they asked me if I wanted the English menu, I declined the offer.  I mean, really, dude.

Waiter comes to take our order.  We know what we are doing, do not mess with us. He asks us all of the usual questions, and we answer like pros.  We got this.

Then he said something else.  It was a question. Clearly he wanted me to choose between one thing and another.  I caught a word, and repeated it. I glanced at my husband, who looked likewise clueless. The waiter repeated the word followed by a questioning tone.  I gave my all-time favorite answer, "B'seder."  I was hoping he didn't ask if I'd like a touch of cyanide in my omelet, or if I preferred that he serve me bread from two days ago.

Seriously, I have no idea what he asked me.

The meal was fine, though, and I didn't taste whatever it was I chose to add.  Or not add.  

Close call.

Phone call #2

Then I got a call from the Hyundai dealership.  I mean, I think it was the Hyundai dealership.  We don't own a Hyundai but we used to.  "Susan?" the nice lady asked.  "Ken," I answered. (I got this).

Then about forty thousand Hebrew words came out of her mouth.  I got none of them.  What I ASSUMED was that there was some kind of sale going on and it was incumbent upon me to take advantage of it.

I took a risk.  I said, IN HEBREW, "I am not interested in a new car right now, but thank you." Apparently I did not say something entirely stupid.  In other words, it really was a lady from Hyundai and there really was a sale.  

She proceeded to talk more.  Many, many words of Hebrew.  Finally I had to shut her up, I mean it was such a waste of her time.  I said, "Well, thank you and Shabbat Shalom!"

So all in all, not bad for someone who is totally clueless.  I can fake it pretty well after 3 years.  And there's always "B'seder" and "Lo Hevanti."

Exercising and Dyeing

I am getting older.  I have, um, never been very good at things like "taking care of  myself."  Let's just say no one ever mistook me for Twiggy.  Or even John Wayne.  Or Cookie Monster.  Well, maybe Cookie.

So I decided two things lately, neither of which I decided independently like a real adult should.

I decided to begin exercising (after my doctor said "Hey! Your blood sugar is getting high!  Stop being an idiot and start exercising!")

I decided to dye my hair (after my friends said, "Hey!  Your hair is all gray!  Stop it!  You don't have to look old!")

So I began exercising.  First I started walking for 1/2 hour every day, after my daughter came in my door and dragged me outside the first day.  And asked me after that, "Did you walk today?  Hmmm?"

The walking went great for about a month, then I started developing foot problems.  No really!  I did!  So I thought well, I need another type of exercise, so I found this great website called www.dontexercisejustlayaroundandeatdonuts.com.  No,, no, just kidding.  It's called "Liveexercise.com" and it's fantastic.

Why?  Because they let you exercise while you sit down.  I am not kidding.  Well, that is, for the first month or so.. You do lots of cool exercises from the comfort of your chair.  I thought, "Hey, I can do this!"

Then, one day the next episode came on and they said, "Today we are going to begin standing up from our chair."  No, I did not turn the computer off.  I stood up, and now I am up to ALL STANDING EXERCISES!  I know, I also think I should plan to go to Rio in 2016.

OK, change #2 - Dyeing - oh, stop with the drama, it's dyeing, not dying.  sheesh.

My hair is really gray.  It is an icky color.  I mean, I cover it so no one really sees it but me and my immediate family, but whatevs.  I need to feel like I look nice when I look in the mirror and talk to myself (yes, I do, so what of it? ).

So I made THE DECISION.  I decided to color my hair.  Not, I'll admit, a life-altering decision like "I'm going to quit my job and join the circus" or "I'm going to move to Outer Mongolia to find myself" but in my world it's a biggie.

So I go to my Israeli hairdresser - a lovely older woman who does a great haircut.  And I tell her the news, I have decided to color my hair.

I then receive a lecture about "color" (Hebrew - צבע) vs "streaks" (Hebrew - גבנים).   

No, no, she says, you don't want color, you want streaks.

[What do I know?] , I said, I'll leave it to you.

And she proceeds to apply blond streaks to my gray hair.

Huh.

The result is, um, weird. 

Hmm, she says, you'll probably need another round of a reddish color to make it brighter.

Next day I go back.  She says, "You need red!"  I was thinking Julianne Moore, she was thinking Crazy Israeli Ladies with Purple Hair.

My hair became streaked with purple.

Went back, saying "Add brown."  She does, but the purple is still there.

Next week, after I cried for a couple of days, I went to, let's just say a hairdresser who was not an old Israeli woman, and he did a faaaaabulous job.

Funny story - I am sitting waiting for the dye to take and I see one of the hairdressers putting on his tallis and tefillin and davening shacharis.  Way, way, cool.

So, now I am exercising and admiring my lovely brown hair with auburn and blonde streaks.  I really am!

I know, no one can really see me do either thing, but trust me, ok?  

Victory and Defeat

If you skipped this blog because you thought I was going to talk about the elections - nah nah nah boo boo.  As I have often said, I find politics exceedingly boring.  Yes, there is intrigue and yes I watch "House of Cards" but seriously, it's all about money and power, and not at all about what's right or wrong.  Cynic? Um yes.

No, no, I am going to speak about my own, personal victory and defeat, all of which happened today!

DEFEAT
Let's start with the defeat, and get it out of the way.

My trip to the Post Office (anyone living in Israel will now start nodding and then begin shuddering, reliving their own Doar nightmares):

Got a petek (slip) in my mailbox to pick up a package that was "registered."  And addressed to my husband.

Stood in line for 1/2 hour because of the two women working there, one was busy with an irritated woman who insisted on something that was not possible.  Shocker.

The argument went on and on, then the people waiting in line joined in, yelling at her to move along so that the rest of us could get helped.

She yelled back that it was not her fault and she wasn't leaving.

Finally the other worker got the brilliant idea of asking if anyone had a package to pick up (much much faster than other processes that are done at the post office, like paying bills, receiving bypass surgery, buying/selling a car, adopting a cat, etc. etc.).

I was first in line for packages!  Surely this would be a victory!

She looked at my ID card, which HAS MY HUSBAND'S NAME ON IT AS WELL.

• No, she said, I need his ID card.
• But he is away and his name is right here!  Look!
• Do you have a picture of his ID card?
• No.
• Well come back with a picture of his ID card.

Now let me just say that the last time I did this, they accepted my ID card just fine.  But as we all know the rules here change depending on the mood of the worker. DEFEAT.

Second wave of defeat: As I was driving home I was thinking, I have to ask my husband to scan his ID card and email it to me.  Then I remembered - I have a scan of his ID card, I could have printed it out and brought it with me. Sometimes my own stupidity shocks me.

VICTORY

I have lived in Israel for over three years.  At no time have I purchased makeup.  Not that I wear much, but when you need a refill, you need a refill.

I have always waited for a trip to America to buy makeup. Why?  Because the crazy cosmetic ladies who sit in Super Pharm on their little stools and wait for you to glance their way will pounce on you and ask if you want a makeover and I have always been afraid of them.  They are pushy and they scare me. There I've said it.

But today something came over me, mostly the dire need for more face powder.  I walked into the Cosmetics Area!  Within a nanosecond bleached blond lady #1 asked if she could help me.  I looked at her, smiled, and said, no thanks, I am fine.  I did it!  I really did it!  And do you know what? She left me alone!

Then dyed blacker than black hair lady #1 saw me.  She wasn't going to let me go.  She probably thought bleached blond lady was a loser.  She asked what she could do for me.  I thought to myself, "Seriously, woman, you apply makeup like your face is a birthday cake, and frankly you  look utterly ridiculous and you want me to ask you for beauty advice?"  Anyway, I said no to her too! And she left me alone.

After I made my purchases and walked out, I thought that perhaps they left me alone because they just didn't want to waste their time on me. If they took a look at me, plain old Susan, they probably figured they'd be wasting their time on someone who apparently had no interest in looking younger or more lovely, or like a birthday cake.

Who cares, I now have new face powder and I have defeated SuperPharm!

You gotta kinda take your wins where you can.

The Guy on the Side of the Road....

It gets me every single time.  I'm going to ramble here, so prepare yourselves.

What gets me is seeing someone on the side of the road who's stopped his car and is davening because it's almost past Mincha time.  Last week one morning, driving on a local road,  I saw someone in tallit and tefillin standing next to his car davening.  And I got this stupid goofy grin on my face.  This is normal, this is what we do, it's no big deal.  I know people do this in other countries, but here, no one driving by is wondering what that person is doing - everyone knows because it's routine, it's the norm. No big deal...

But it is such a big deal.

It's always the little things that do this to me, that still fill my heart with gratitude for having the opportunity to live here, to have come home.

I still gasp when I see the landscapes, and always, always, imagine ancient Jews walking towards Jerusalem over the hills. (Yes, I'll admit it, sometimes the ancient Jews look like Charleton Heston).

I am always thrilled to see the dig sites that pop up everywhere, and especially to see the one right in my neighborhood in Modiin - an ancient shul.  

I grew up in America as a stranger.  It was not my country in so many ways.  The calendar revolved around someone else's holidays, someone else's customs.  I had to work around my own holidays, explain explain explain, work overtime on some days to leave early on Friday, miss meetings and events because of Shabbat and Chag, etc. etc. etc.

I appreciate America and American life, but once you live here you realize deep down inside yourself what you've been missing, and it's shocking.  That sense of deep connection to every single person on the street, the fact that the entire country revolves around Shabbat, chagim, Jewish historical events....The fact that you are home in a way you never even knew you could be.

Going to our local mall on Fridays fills my heart - religious and non-religious wishing each other Shabbat Shalom - whether they plan to stay home or go to the beach the next day, they mean it. The mall is set up like a shuk on Fridays, with vendors selling food, flowers, and gifts in preparation for Shabbat.  Most people don't work on Fridays, so it literally is an entire day to get ready for Shabbat - mentally and physically.  By Thursday afternoon, each and every week, the excitement begins to build and the sense of anticipation is palpable.  This is what Shabbat is meant to be, this is how it is supposed to feel.

This week I went into Jerusalem to meet visiting family - imagine me telling my grandparents whose dream it was to even see this country, that I could walk around Jerusalem any time I wanted to.  

I guess the overwhelming feeling is that everything I mentioned above is "normal" when you live here - it's just what you see every day. But it never feels routine - to me it's always thrilling. I can be doing the most mundane task - picking up the dry cleaning, getting gas - and I think to myself, "I am doing this in Israel - how cool is that?"

Pretty cool.  Pretty cool.

   

Ah, Hebrew

As I said in my last blog, learning Hebrew and being comfortable enough to speak to an Israeli are constant challenges for olim.

I can practice and practice, but the words trip over themselves on the voyage from my brain to my mouth and I always end up sounding like an idiot.

Yesterday, though, was interesting.  We had a fix-it person over who only speaks Hebrew.  He is a sweet fellow who has done a lot of work for us.  Interestingly, and shockingly, I was able to speak to him pretty well.  A lot of the words came out of my mouth correctly, and some were words that I didn't even know I knew! 

But I figured it out. There must be a safe that keeps all of the correctly conjugated words in the deep recesses of my brain - there has to be because I LEARNED ALL OF THIS IN ULPAN and I don't remember most of it.  But for some reason, it must have mistakenly been open for a few minutes, and I'm hoping that happens again.

I have found that reticence to speak to Israelis happens with women more than men.  I think that women are more nervous about sounding stupid and men are not (no, I am not man-bashing here, I am man-honoring!).  My conversations with Anglo friends here have borne this theory out.  We are more reticent to "just try" speaking - maybe that's an age thing, but I kind of think it's a woman thing. 

Also, I realize that no matter what I say and how good my accent is, they always know we are Anglos - you just can't fake being an Israeli.  In fact, it must have something to do with physical appearance as well, maybe we Anglos have non-Israeli looks on our faces (less grimaces, more smiles?).  Yesterday we walked into a restaurant and before I had said a word they handed us an English menu.

The nicest experiences are when I apologize for my broken Hebrew and they look at me in shock, saying, "But your Hebrew is great, what are you talking about?" 

However, I am not naive.  I know that the government must pay them to say that ("Keep the Anglos here, tell them they speak Hebrew well!  Do anything, don't let them leave!"  must be the message).

Either way, I am, as I've said before, getting used to sounding dumb and to trying out my Hebrew on unsuspecting Israelis who visibly cringe when I speak. 

And every once in a while I'm hoping that the Safe of Correct Hebrew opens up by accident and I get a complete and correct sentence out without embarrassing myself and the entire Anglo community.

I'll keep trying.  Shalom, see ya.