when independence is more than a day off

Yom HaAtzma’ut, Israeli Independence Day, is celebrated on the fifth day of the Hebrew month of Iyar. This year, that should fall out tonight. But in order to commemorate Yom HaZikaron, Israeli Memorial Day, the day before, but not to desecrate Shabbat, it’s all pushed off one day. In a way, it’s similar to celebrating the American holidays on Monday, whether the historical day meets it or not, but here’s all the difference in the world. In the states, it’s for convenience. Here in Israel, it’s for holiness.

So that brings me to my list of things that I love here in Israel and vive la différence! Although many are making lists of 69 things that they love about living in Israel, I am happy to present my top ten.

Here in Israel:

  1. stores offer sales for items at ₪69 (to match the age of the country), or even renting a car for the day for ₪69
  2. everyone starts displaying Israeli flags, blooming like the beautiful wildflowers in all areas of the country

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    Yes, our car is Tzfat blue
  3. people post ideas of what they are doing to celebrate the holiday, not just ask for suggestions from others
  4. multiple Whatsapp groups display poignant poems, photos, and videos about the country
  5. such as this https://youtu.be/RzbDIH_lp7I 
  6. and in that regard, you don’t mind tearing up constantly, going back and forth between tears of sadness about the sacrifice of so many to pride of our country
  7. and you remember to buy lots of tissues to tide you over,and you are willing to cry in public
  8. like for this one https://youtu.be/h6N6hLIfiac  
  9. or this one https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2F1054481034666933%2Fvideos%2F1299000880214946%2F&show_text=0&width=400
  10. that Rabbanit Henkin of Nishmat has been invited to light a torch for the official Yom HaAtzma’ut ceremony as a trailblazer in teaching women Torah, but also as a bereaved mother
  11. and you think back to the last time you were in Israel for Yom HaAtzma’ut in 1976, a different century, and realize that even though that was such a different world, as much as things change, they are the same
  12. that even though I don’t know any soldiers or families of soldiers who have died, there is a family around the corner from us who is related to a girl who was killed in a terrorist act,
  13. and I do know one of the mothers of the boys who were kidnapped and killed in the summer of 2014
  14. and I do have my student who is included in the remembrance DSC_0089
  15. And even as I said I would write ten, the need to include more is essential, I am looking for more to move from the sadness to celebration, so I will include my gratitude that we can go walking into town Tuesday morning to watch some hometown hokie-ish celebration,
  16. and then go picnic with friends in the afternoon
  17. and look for many more things to post about in reflection for years and years to come
  18. in peace that should come speedily in our days

instead of that, i’m doing this this year

This year in Israel, if not in a rebuilt Jerusalem…

Instead of cooking (and cleaning and planning and shopping, in no particular order ever), I got to play with kids and enjoy the beautiful weather, even if it wasn’t necessarily beautiful. Yes, we were surprised that it did rain last Wednesday, even if just briefly!

Instead of doing a second seder, we got to travel and see friends. And water my plant at home, if just for a short visit before returning to be at our kids’.

Instead of savoring the taste of matzah, we went to a Gymboree in Efrat to attend a mini-Mimouna, a North African Jewish celebration of returning to eating bread.

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Blessings and props for the children to make their muffleta pancakes
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Blessing the children of all ages; like the new wheat grows, so we should also grow

Instead of worrying about everyone getting along, I knew they wouldn’t, and then they would for when it mattered. And then we could go home when we had enough.

Instead of sitting around the eighth day of Pesach, overeating, we went into Jerusalem to the Old City. We met different people we hadn’t seen in eight months; two years, and forty years. Instead of synagogue, we had synchronicity.

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Capturing people enjoying their Hametz after Pesach in the Old City

Instead of worrying about the community and who needs what, we got to think about ourselves and what we need. And worry about the whole world.

Instead of going to hear a speaker for Yom HaShoah, we’re meeting with the couple from whom we are buying our home and seeing what we want to buy from them. He is from Libya; she is also from a Mizrachi family; they have their own families’ experiences of hate and expulsion, which we will hear about.

Instead of looking at videos of the moment of silence on Monday morning in memory of the six million Jews who were killed, we will stand silent ourselves.

Here.

In Israel.

Our Homeland.

of mice and me

This is a combination of things, as most things truly are. We are just a few days before the holiday of Pesach, when the typical Jewish woman has a hard time distinguishing between dirt and the forbidden leavened chametz. I, of course, am not that. I know very well that I am doing spring cleaning. I removed the heavy quilt from our bed and washed the heavy linens. We opened our windows today, removing the bubble wrap that we had as insulation. And that was where we enter this post:

If you remove the wrap from your bedroom window, you might see the glass shelf above it leaning precariously.

If you see it leaning, you might realize that the window shifting probably was the unexplained noise you both heard the other night, but were too tired to investigate.

If you try to fix the glass shelf, you might have to find some wood to prop up the shelf, since it won’t come down, either, but you can’t take a chance of leaving it there.

If you start cutting some wood, you might as well make a platform for the computer that is on the floor of the study that has mysterious wet tiles there.

If you start looking more closely at the floor, you might think about taking the box of printing paper off the floor.

If you open that box once it’s off the floor, you might notice that it’s oddly packed and already opened.

If you remove the top of that box, you will discover that it’s not paper at all, but many many many more CD’s that you of course did not know were missing.

And if you think about things that you can’t possibly track, you think about learning the laws of getting ready for Pesach in a class 42 years ago, discussing the physical limits of searching for chametz, considering the limits of where one should search for chametz, whether a small rat or mouse might bring the forbidden food into some hidden area of the  house.

And when you think about what you learned, you remember your teacher saying, “I have two little mice who bring things everywhere”, referring, with love, to her children.

And when you think about mice and children, you might think about how mice are a convenient symbol for so many things, like well, yes, me, the country mouse (see? I wrote about it here and here and in detail here).

And when you realize that it’s all connected, you remember this post you wrote  also about giving a virtual mouse a cookie, of sorts, and you can write another tale about your adventures here in Israel, today, that all of this is not old but new for me, and perhaps I should be reciting a blessing of newness for all of this renewal, for the ability to experience limits and setbacks here in this Land, so I can be a country mouse in my country.

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The sky is falling, said many

It all comes together now, slowly, slowly.

Why wait until after the winter to look at real estate?

Why paint before Pesach?

Why worry about allergies outside when you have mold in the house?

What work that the city did?

Oh, yeah, there is a spring under the house. And the city closed it off last year, so it has to go somewhere.

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See the wet below? The engineers didn’t do the best job of closing things off.

And so that’s why things went bump in the night,  which turned into pieces of plaster falling off the outside wall, taking down the tsotchkes that they had hanging on the walls.

And that’s why the floor in the study (which we don’t really use because the overhead light is broken, and it’s really really dark in there) was wet. Not the whole thing; just one square.

So, putting it all together, yes, we knew there was a mold problem in Israel in old houses, especially the old stone ones. It turns out that the house we are renting is over 200 years old, with some later additions. The owner who grew up in the house told us how all his family members would take turns bathing in the kitchen in some kind of tub, heating up water and then pouring it over themselves. Apparently, there were no doors, either.

But that was then; this is now. We knew to keep spraying the mold that appeared, but didn’t think that there would be a piece of the ceiling that could fall on our heads.

Now, in terms of the painting, I had heard from our Hebrew instructor back in the states that her mother used to paint their house every year before Pesach, along with making everything else by herself (and raise a large family!), but it wasn’t until I saw this photo that it made sense.
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This was in last week’s copy of Shabbaton, a very nice compendium of Torah articles from a Zionist Religious perspective. But here it is; paint your house before Pesach!
Rough translation: using the four cups of the Seder and the textual inspiration for each as a model, they list four words describing the painting process.
  1. והגנתי I protected (against mold and fungi)

    And if this weren’t enough (dayenu, anyone?), they do continue with three more

  2. והידרתי and I decorated
  3. וניקיתי and I cleaned (fascinating it didn’t start there)
  4. וחסחתי and I saved (brilliant!)

So, there you go. As we move into the OMG it’s almost Pesach mode, we can enjoy the renewal of our people in our Land in all ways possible.

And look forward to our new home outside of the land of mold!

לְשָׁנָה הַבָאָה בִּירוּשָלַיִם הַבְּנוּיָה

 

kilometerstones

Or is it meterstones? Passing what I would have called “milestones” with tongue in cheek here in Israel,or I guess it could also be called rites of passage.

I just had a haircut. That was not a difficult thing in and of itself,  of course, but finding someone who could and would cut my hair, plus did a good job, for a reasonable price to boot was a large marker. It has been a long time since I had a good haircut; since before we left the states. (Yes, I had one when we went back for a visit, but it was not a good one.) I wasn’t sure of who to ask for suggestions here, so this was a big thing to find someone good.

A woman we know here who has not had the easiest time let’s say in Life In General had said she was happy to have people now after years of not having anyone; people who would slip her extra slices of cheese or meat in her order after it was weighed; people who would nod to her and motion to her to come closer; people who took care of her. We know people, but I’m not sure we have people yet. So finding someone who can cut my hair is a big step. Rite of passage.

It is the first day of spring today. On my phone, the following question came up from my daily language reminder from Morfix:

מילת היום באנגלית
The answer is:
vernal
אֲבִיבִי
דוגמאות שימוש עבור vernal adjective; trees and flowers in vernal bloom
I never knew what vernal actually meant! I thought spring was also an adjective; spring flowers; spring weather. Of course it is. But it is good to learn new things.
I am working hard to pay attention to the signs of awakening around me.
We had to get a post office box.  It’s hard enough for the postman to find our house now, but since we hope to be moving by the end of the summer (I hope before the end; we’ll see what ensues), we needed to print up business receipts with an address that will last longer than a few months; thus the PO box. So I took a walk just now to go see if there was any mail. But in truth, it was to look for signs of spring; vernal awakening.
img_20170320_155957.jpgimg_20170320_155850.jpgimg_20170320_155610.jpg Maybe I don’t have people yet, but I have flowers. And that, for now, is enough.

are we there yet?

We finished our Ulpan last night. Well, we took the final exam. We thought the final session would be a party this Thursday night after the Fast of Esther is over. But the teacher said it would be next week when we have a wedding to go to.

I’m learning to leave my house to get to a meeting when it’s actually supposed to start. I’m still too early.

We bought a milk pitcher this week. It’s made to hold bags of milk. I’ve heard that they also have milk bags in Canada, but I never saw it there. Until now, we’ve been using cartons, but the bags are cheaper. We’re here for the long run.

I’m finding myself extraordinarily moved by the two wins as of today of Team Israel in the World Baseball Classic, and certainly hoping for more wins in the future.

We went to see the anemones in bloom. We wanted to find the place we had gone to years before on a tour, when the bus driver took an unplanned detour off the road somewhere to go see the anemones. This is a sport that I can follow with all seriousness. Seeing the various flowerings seems to be a sport here for everybody. And I mean everybody.

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See the big stick the little one is holding? The father asked him to stop wielding it so wildly as we passed by.

This is in Megiddo, a small turnoff from the road from Afula towards the coast. Since we weren’t driving, and since this was in the time before smartphones and Waze, we weren’t sure exactly if this was the place, but it clearly was the same, except not. We didn’t remember an army base there, nor an airport behind it. But we definitely remember there were no strings keeping people off the flowers. This is not surprising that Israelis have to be cordoned off. They have a hard time with limits.

Are we Israeli yet?

I still let a woman with only two items go in front of me in line in the supermarket the other day, and then I had to let the soldier with only a few things go as well. I wasn’t in any particular hurry, so why not?

Am I irrational to think that maybe some of the things that we do are not necessarily bad, and that Israel could benefit from a little more of what we have done?

Oh, silly me. Of course, it’s almost Purim, so it’s all good. The learning curve certainly continues to be steep, both ways.

being an introvert in an extremely extroverted world

And that world is Tzfat.

Maybe there are plenty of quiet homebodies here. We haven’t met them yet. Everybody here, well, certainly in the Old City and Artists’ Quarter are happy to mix in with everyone, with few if any boundaries. There is quiet right now in the afternoon, surprisingly, perhaps in some mode of respect to the old siesta hours. But of course, as soon as I typed that, I started hearing voices of kids coming home from school or such. Certainly today, Rosh Hodesh Adar, is bringing all kinds of voices out of hibernation. I guess if you don’t have any expectation of quiet, you won’t miss it?

That’s like the time a friend who had become super-Haredi had told me she would have her young daughter start wearing tights all the time once she became (memory fails me now since it’s almost 40 years ago) 2? 1 1/2? because she wouldn’t know the difference…

Isn’t hot always hot? Isn’t noisy always noisy?

Maybe this is why Israelis do love to go out to nature. Maybe it is in search of the quiet they don’t know they are missing.

On the other hand, this lack of quiet is what they often bring with them into nature.

For example:

dsc_0559This is from last week. ‘Way before Lag B’Omer, so why the fire? Or even more, why two? It was actually a pretty nice day. We could not figure out what was going on.

Here’s another view. It makes it even more confusing, I promise you.

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Do we think the man in the right corner (using the tree to the left as his coat tree, duh) is the father? the teacher/rebbe? Does it matter who he is because he’s obviously okay with the kid flying off the side of the mountain?

I go on to find other corners to breathe in nature.

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I’m learning to overcome my extreme nervousness and s’est la vie, or at least here in Israel.

And by Israel, I really do mean Tzfat.

I’m learning to put a mask on and pretend I’m a chutzpanit. I am taking pictures of people who are interesting to me, and smile at them when they realize it.

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I call people I don’t really know well and ask if we can come to their home for Shabbat. And then when they say yes, I give them the list of foods ISHI can and cannot eat, and hope that they don’t regret agreeing to having us come. And I swallow my pride a lot. That’s the difference between us faux extroverts and real ones. We  wear our chutzpah as a mask.

I’m learning to do a lot of things that are not comfortable. And I am waiting somewhat patiently (since that was never my strong suit) to move to a quieter corner of the world.

And yes, still in Tzfat.