In response to last week's email, many people asked for a "turducken" photo. Unfortunately, since we were not part of the actual tri-bird assembly team, we have no pictures. However, here is a picture of our Thanksgiving contribution: a turkey challah.
Being an immigrant is a funny thing. Much of daily life becomes an attempt at integrating your old self (read: American) with your new environment (Israeli). Never in all our years living in the US did we attend four, yes four, full Thanksgiving meals like we did this year. In a way it seems like an overcompensation. On the other hand, it is a perfect example of our fellow olim (immigrants) trying to preserve an aspect of their/our identity, even if the majority of our T-day meals did not take place on actual T-day (or with only Americans).
While searching for a bus stop the other day to take a bus I had never taken before, I wandered into Wadi Nisnas, an Arab Christian-Muslim neighborhood. Suddenly, for the first time this season, I saw Christmas! Little Santa costumes, Christmas trees and ornaments. Candy canes, stockings and lights. The American in me got all excited and I took a few pictures. Then it dawned on me, I would have never taken pictures of random Christmas decorations at a store in the States. But now that we live in Israel, Christmas does not exist in the majority of the places we go and (for whatever this might mean) Christmas is conflated with American in my emotional memory.
This week also brought me to another place in Israel that feels like America (or anywhere in the world, for that matter), IKEA. A family friend picked me up at the train station in Netanya and we headed over to Ikea. The store here looks exactly like every Ikea store in the world, and walking through the store, you could imagine you were somewhere else. That is, until you notice that all the signs are in Hebrew, the prices are in shekel and the food in the cafeteria is kosher. The purpose of the trip was to buy some cabinets for the kitchen and some other odds and ends around the house. The trip was successful, all intended purchases were made and I also left with a bamboo plant, the same exact bamboo plant, in the same exact vase, that we bought at the Ikea in Chicago (which was graciously adopted by a friend when we moved). In its own way, Ikea has made the world a much smaller place.
Maybe the most poignant moment of our American/Israeli integration happened this morning, at breakfast. Friday mornings in Israel are (sort of) like Sunday mornings in America. No work, sleep in late, make a fun breakfast... so, on this morning's menu: left-over challah french toast. Everything about our french toast was as it should be, except that we realized we had no maple syrup. We looked through our pantry to see what we could use as a substitute and we found it: silan (date honey), a middle-eastern staple. As we dipped our french toast in the silan, we reflected to ourselves: as Israeli as we might become, we'll always be Americans too (but don't worry, my mom is bringing us real maple syrup was when she comes to visit next week).
Chaunkah is almost here (first candle, Saturday night) and this week in my Ulpan class I got to give a presentation about the holiday. I taught a short section of Talmud about lighting candles, a lesson I used to teach my students in Chicago. When the presentation ended, my teacher told me: "wow, that was great! You should be a teacher." I told her: "I am a teacher." Made me miss my colleagues and students at CJHS.
Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom, Happy Chanukah and a great weekend,
Stef and Matt
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