From 10 Shekel Movie Night to Babyland as Israelis

Hello everyone! It's been a while since I wrote an update - so here is just a quick general overview of what's been going on in our lives lately.

I am not working (and no one is willing to hire a pregnant lady), so I spend everyday trying to figure out ways not to be bored. Matt is a couple weeks deep into the semester after spending 3 weeks working on an archaeological dig. He is actually taking some coursework in Hebrew this semester which will be a great challenge and an excellent boost to his Hebrew. He spends the rest of his time writing articles with (read: for) his advisor and working on his dissertation. 

As the babies (yes, we are having twins for those who haven't heard yet) are due to arrive in just about 2 months, we have also been taking advantage of our last months of couplehood to travel around the country, see friends and go out on an occasional date. This led us to be motivated to take advantage of "Cinema Day" where most major movie theaters in the country were offering all movies for the discounted price of 10 shekels (about $2.50). The cheap tickets drew us in as well as, it seemed, every other person in Haifa. Granted, I don't know what the mall and movie theater are like on an average Thursday evening, but it was like someone was giving away free iphones with all the people and crowding and pushing. I was acutely aware of the lack of personal space with my new ginormous size and had to fight my way through the crowds blocking strangers from inadvertently groping my belly.

Since we waiting a little bit too long to order our tickets, it meant that our first choice movies (that were showing at reasonable hours) were sold out. We ended up getting tickets to see "Behind the Candelabra" / "חיי עם ליברצ'ה" (which turned out to be and HBO special, but was playing in theaters over here) about the last 10 years of Liberace's life and his secret affair with a young man. We knew very well what we were getting into when we decided to see this movie: explicit sexual content, vulgar language and "adult" themes, which is why we were particularly surprised to see so many young teenagers when we got into the theater. The film was rated 14+, lower than the possible 16+, and there seemed to be a lot of people who just squeaked in past that 14 year old cut off. These kids were particularly noticeable since movie theaters in Israel have assigned seating and many adults coming in (including us) had to ask these teens to get out of their seats. This lead us to believe that maybe these kids bought tickets to another movie and sneaked into ours. The most annoying thing about teenage Israeli kids is that they talk to each other in loud voices as if they were in their friend's bedroom, some of them even talking on the cell phones, WHILE THE MOVIE IS PLAYING! And all the shushing from people around them doesn't make it any quieter. However, after a few sexually explicit scenes between Michael Douglas and Matt Damon, teenagers could be seen hurrying down the aisle as if they couldn't get out fast enough. I guess they didn't read up on what the movie was about before they sneaked in. 

Early the next morning I found my self back in the exact same movie theater, but this time for a pregnancy convention put on by Rambam hospital, the largest hospital in Haifa. Replace crowds of loud, obnoxious teenagers with large, round pregnant ladies pushing their way to get free samples of diaper rash creme and formula. A completely different scene, but no less terrifying. Don't get me wrong, I love a free sample of stretch-mark preventative lotion as much as the next woman, but I refuse to push my way through a 10-belly-deep crowd to get it. This put me in the minority, although I still left with quite the booty of baby related sample items I may or may not ever use. The convention also hosted a series of speakers, doctors and midwives, from Rambam hospital who spoke about topics ranging from labor and delivery to post-natal care. In the stadium seating movie theater full of pregnant women (another terrifying/hilarious scene) I found the woman from my birthing class who had invited me to this event in the first place. It was good for me to sit next to her during the lectures so I could ask her questions when Hebrew words I didn't know were used. This happens fairly frequently in our birthing class also, where new words are constantly coming up. This is mainly due to discussions of body parts that don't commonly get discussed in ulpan or anywhere outside of birthing classes for that matter. Thankfully, the people in our class are very forgiving and don't judge me for asking what פטמות / p'tamot are (they are nipples) when discussing עיסוי פטמות / eesui p'tamot (nipple massage) in the context of stimulating labor.  

Later in the week I found myself again at another baby convention, this time in Tel Aviv, accompanying a friend who wanted to hand out surveys there as part of her Master's thesis research on the impact of disposable diapers on the environment. Unlike the previous convention, this one had no education content and was just a massive convention center packed with vendors giving away free samples and trying to sell their baby-related wares. Oh, did I mention that this convention was called "Babyland"? If the Haifa convention which filled a couple hundred seats in a movie theater seemed overwhelming, this place was teeming with thousands of parents (mainly mothers) pushing their super fancy strollers and chasing after toddlers while still pushing their way through crowds to collect their free samples. Again, I left with tons of free stuff, which I can't complain about, but I think I have had enough baby-related consumer stimulation to last me until our babies are born. No more baby conventions for this mama-to-be. 

This weekend we are off to Matt's aunt and uncle's kibbutz with some friends to spend Shabbat in the desert before it gets too hard for me to travel and my only mode of transportation will be getting rolled around like Violet, the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka. Thank God, at this time, I am still walking around and feeling great!

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

P.S. Here is the magnet I received as a gift for my participation in the Rambam convention (29 weeks pregnant).

One Year as Israelis!

Well, we made it folks. An entire year as Israelis! 

A few days ago, on Friday, August 30, we touched down at Ben Gurion Airport and celebrated our 1 year "aliyah-versary".  When we booked our tickets to the States months ago we didn't plan on returning from our vacation exactly one year to the date of the day we made aliyah, but when we realized the coincidence (about a month after booking) we thought it seemed appropriate. 

Making Aliyah - August 2012

One Year Later - August 2013

Visiting our families in the US the past month, we all agreed that it hardly seemed as though a full year had gone by. Stopping to think about the past year, however, reveals how much (and in some ways how little) has changed. Some things are obvious: a year ago, we were living in a tiny temporary apartment, frantically apartment searching and trying to decide what neighborhood we would ultimately live in. This year, we came home from the airport to our comfortable (albeit unairconditioned), fully furnished, familiar abode. Last year at this time we knew no one in our new city. Now, we have friends and a community that support us in innumerable ways. Over the course of the past year we have learned the ins and outs of the Israeli bureaucratic system, our Hebrew has significantly improved, and we can navigate freely around Haifa. We have come to love our new city, continue to love our new country and are fully happy with our decision to make aliyah.

At the same time, some things are still the same. I am again job searching and am still trying to figure out what my new career path is. While I was gainfully employed for much of this past year and the program I worked for was highly successful, I will not be continuing with that job as I am due to give birth (oh yeah, that's new too!) just shortly before the main part of the workload picks up. In the meantime, I am looking for part time gigs and am again being pushed in the direction of teaching English, something I shied away from a year ago, but am trying to be more open to now. Matt is still a student, and although he completed a HUGE feat by submitting a 361 page thesis this year, is now starting over having just submitted his official dissertation proposal and registered as a full doctoral student. 

While in many ways we feel as though we've settled in and fully acclimated to our lives as Israelis, we know that there is still a lot we haven't encountered and a ton we will continue to learn as we come upon new experiences and new challenges. Surely our second year as Israelis will be completely different than our first - mainly navigating our expanding family - but we feel equipped to deal with whatever comes our way. 

The year came to a nice close as we sat with our friends at their Shabbat table, the same friends (who were then barely acquaintances) who hosted us the very first night we arrived in Haifa. It is nice when life comes full circle. 

Last but not least, thank you to all the dedicated readers who have been following our journey over the past year. Whether you read just a few posts here and there when you could find the time or if you religiously followed us week by week, we appreciate all the support, encouragement and shared anecdotes we received from you. The process of writing and reflecting on our experiences each week has been an invaluable part of our aliyah process and for the first time in my life, I have succeeded in keeping a "journal," something I have attempted (and failed at) many times. My initial intention was to write once a week for our first year as Israelis (which I nearly accomplished, missing just a couple weeks when things got busy). Many people have encouraged us to keep writing and we might, but maybe not as frequently, or maybe just when really major or interesting events come up. 

Have a great week, Shana Tova U'Metukah (to those celebrating the upcoming Jewish New Year) and Happy 1 Year Aliyah-versary to us!

Stef and Matt

American Shopping Adventures as Israelis

Part of being in the US means the inevitable shopping trips to get those items that are impossible and/or challenging and/or expensive to get in Israel. On our shopping list this trip included such big ticket items as a new laptop (my old one decided it didn't want to turn on any more) from which I am writing right now, some new clothes and shoes - which tend to be less expensive here, a stroller and other baby related items (yes, for those who haven't heard, we are expecting!), and English books.

Matt had a particular list of books that he needed/wanted for this upcoming school year and, as he did when living in the US, ordered them used from Amazon. For those who are familiar with this form of shopping, you know that there are sometimes ridiculous deals where books costs just a few cents and all you're basically paying for is shipping. Matt luckily found one of the research books he needed, that costs over $50 when new, for just 1 cent used. In retrospect, he could have found this suspicious, but this was not the first time he ordered something like this. 

When the books arrived, Matt opened up the first two and they were just what he was expecting. I opened up the third one for him, and to my surprise, did not see what I expected to see. "Did you order this?" I asked, mostly out of confusion. The book I opened was called "California Screaming," an steamy novel of gay sex-capades in Los Angeles. 

It just didn't seem like a book Matt would need for school. When we turned the book over, however, we saw that the company had placed a bar-code sticker on the back with the proper ISBN and title: "Kingdom of the Hittites." Now that seems more like it. 

We are still in the process of figuring out how to the return the book and hopefully get the correct one before we head back to Israel on Thursday. Wish us luck.  

Have a great week!

Stef and Matt

In America as Israelis

After almost a full year, we are back in the US for a visit. We have kept very busy so far seeing family and friends in New York and LA and Buffalo is up next. 

Being in the US after a year of living in Israel has made us think a lot about being both American and Israeli. There are times that being here makes us feel very Israeli and other times where we are reminded that, in many ways, we are still very much American. For me, a pivotal moment is when a plane full of Israelis touches down outside of Israel. My nature, in general, is to be a rule follower. When I am asked to do something, like stay in my seat until the fasten-seatbelt-sign is turned off, I stay in my seat. Israelis do not. When we touched down, both in Istanbul and then in New York (our flight from Istanbul to New York was also full of Israelis), I watched (in slight horror) everyone around me get up and open the overhead compartments even though we were still far from our gate. To be fair, there were many other Middle-Easterners and Europeans out of their seats as well, but I can't help but feel that the Israelis were taking the lead on this one. Of course, now that everyone (not us) was standing and all the overhead compartments were open, the plane began to move as we taxied to our gate. On one flight, we watched in slow motion as a guitar started to fall out of the bin as the plane began to drive. Luckily, a few people saw it happening and yelled out and the people standing in the aisle were able to catch it, but in my head all I could hear was "be careful opening the overhead bins as items may have shifted during flight." In these moments, I realize I am still American and I breathed a sigh of relief as we touched down in LA on our flight from New York and not a single person moved until that fasten-seatbelt-light was off.

The first few days back in the States also presented us with a bit of language culture shock. As Americans in Israel, we are accustomed to speaking English at home and Hebrew in public. That means at restaurants, in cabs, at stores and on the street, our default language is Hebrew. Now that we are Israelis in America, we often catch ourselves about to speak Hebrew at inappropriate times. The first place this always happens is at passport control in the airport. Even before we were officially Israeli, I made a decision to exclusively speak Hebrew at Ben Gurion airport, mainly to avoid the the typical (read: annoying) questions they ask American tourists at the security check: Are you Jewish? What synagogue do you belong to? What was your Bat Mitzvah portion? When I would speak Hebrew, they would just ask: How do you know Hebrew? and let me move on. So, for years now, when I land in the US (or anywhere not in Israel, for that matter) I have to continually remind myself while waiting in line at passport control to speak English to the officer. Inevitably, however, I always end up answering at least one question with "ken" (yes, in Hebrew), but I think it generally goes unnoticed.   

This time the language culture shock followed us into the city. In Haifa, when we hear other people speaking English in public, we turn around, because odds are we know them. In the US, we just look like paranoid schizophrenics, turning around and looking at everyone. It took a few days to get used to hearing English everywhere again. Then, of course, on our last day in New York, we went out to breakfast with Matt's sister and we heard two men at the table next to us speaking Hebrew. This totally threw us off our game. But, in good Matt-and-Stef fashion, we knew one of them from working at Camp Ramah a couple summers ago, and had a nice time catching up with him in Hebrew.

A highlight for me throughout our two weeks in America has been food. Food holds such nostalgic properties, whether it's the smell of a certain dish that awakens childhood memories or simply walking the isles of Trader Joe's and remembering all the awesome (and kosher!) things one can buy there. When we first arrived in NYC and went to the grocery store, I was like a kid in a candy shop. It's funny how certain products, that I haven't thought about for a year, arouse in me such excitement. Tortilla chips and salsa, Life cereal, half-sour pickles, and most importantly fresh pineapple and berries! Fresh blueberries, blackberries and raspberries are impossible to come by in Israel and while fist-sized pineapples can be found for 40 shekel ($10+), it's never worth it. We have also now had two consecutive Sundays of bagels, cream cheese and lox, which has been very nostalgic for us both. While thought of as typically Jewish food, bagels and lox are definitely American Jewish food, not Israeli. It is certainly possible to get a decent bagel in Israel, specifically in Jerusalem where American olim rule the roost, but in Haifa, this delicacy is hard to come by. I'm sure when we get back to Israel, many of the American food-stuffs that have so excited me while here will fade into distant memories, but I will always have them to look forward to on future trips.

Wishing you all a good week,

Stef and Matt

Traveling Abroad as Israelis

This week’s post comes from Ataturk Airport in Istanbul. If I had managed in my crazy busy schedule last week to write an update, I would have told you that it was our last week writing from Israel, at least for a short while. For the first time since making aliyah, we have left the State of Israel en route to the US of A to visit our families and catch up with our friends (in person as opposed to over the interwebs).  A highlight of leaving Israel is being able to use our new Israeli “passports” (we don’t yet have full passports; we can only get those after a year).  It used to be that we would go through airport security speaking Hebrew and we would get questioned for not having Israeli passports. One time we got held up at the Jordanian border for 45 minutes while they checked our records because they didn’t believe we weren’t Israeli citizens. But now we are, and that was fun for us. 

The cheapest flight we found from Israel to the US had a layover in Istanbul. Since we figure that we’ll have many transatlantic flights in our future, we might as well take advantage of stopping over in interesting places and actually go see these interesting places. So, we extended our layover for three days. After a few days in Istanbul, I have a few thoughts about traveling as Israelis.

The thing that probably comes up most often while traveling is who to tell and who to avoid telling we are Israelis. Sometimes being Israeli comes in handy (more on that later), but much of the time, telling people you’re from Israel leads to unwanted judgment and potential safety concerns. Unlike other Israelis, we have the distinct privilege of also being American, which gives of something to say when people ask where we’re from (although I’m sure being American also warrants a different kind of unwanted judgment in some places). Especially traveling in Turkey, when Israeli-Turkish relations are not so hot, we were a bit weary of bringing up our Israeli status. There were times, however, after walking away from an interesting encounter, we wondered if we should have actually told them where we live.

In the subway one morning on our way back from davening with the Beit Israel Synagogue in Sisli, a neighborhood just north of Taksim square, we met a couple around our age who was asking us for directions. For some reason (still unknown to us), they thought we were locals, maybe it was because we actually had answers to their questions. For example: How many stops away is Taksim? One. Why is everything closed today? It is a holiday, Bayram, marking the end of Ramazan (Ramadan, in Turkish). When will stores open up? Some things will open up after 1 o’clock (that answer was supplied to us by the Turkish guy standing behind us).

Eventually we introduced ourselves (as Americans) and they told us they were from Tehran, Iran.  Since she was wearing a tank-top and mini-skirt and he was rocking some pretty cool hipster glasses, we were fairly certain they weren’t radicals or religious fundamentalists. Before giving us time to respond, however, she launched into a little speech about how, as Americans, we’re probably afraid of them because they’re Iranian and making nuclear weapons, but that we shouldn’t worry because they also hate their government and think that Iran is an oppressive dictatorship. We told them we weren’t bothered that they were Iranian and that since Matt grew up in Los Angeles, he had many Persian friends. To which the guy replied: “Oh yes, TehrAn-geles.” We continued chatting about our travels in Istanbul and we gave them our map of the city to help them get around. She lamented over the fact that she can’t visit the US and we joked that we can’t visit Iran either. To which she quickly replied: “Don’t come to my country! They will arrest you as soon as you land and claim you are a spy!” As we parted, she asked if I had facebook and took my name. Watching them walk away, we wondered if we should have told them we lived in Israel, it would have been an interesting conversation.

Later on, we were perusing a ceramics shop and got to chatting with the salesman. After a few minutes, he told us he was Syrian and had come to Turkey a year before to escape the war. This perked Matt’s interest and they began discussing the situation in Syria and archaeological sites there that Matt can’t visit. The salesman then asked us where we were from and again, we said we were American. Like many other salesmen we met, he immediately tried to make a connection to us: “I have family in Brooklyn.” He explained that his family moved there many years ago and that there are a lot of Syrians in Brooklyn. Matt and I both immediately thought his story sounded a lot like the Syrian Jewish narrative. As if reading our minds, he told us that he has many distant relatives on his mother’s side that are Jewish and he even knows a little Hebrew: “Ma Shlomeikh?” (How are you?) he asked me. “Beseder,” (OK) I replied. At this point we told him we also know a little Hebrew and Matt’s mom is from Brooklyn too. We never got as far as saying outright that we are Jewish and live in Israel, but maybe that was implied.

On the flip side, there were definitely certain times where being Israeli was a big perk, mainly when interacting with the Jewish community. Whenever we had to show an ID to get into a synagogue or the Jewish museum, we pulled out our Israeli ones. We even signed guest books as Israelis just for fun.  For lunch one day we searched out and found a small kosher restaurant, Levi Restaurant, open just for lunch right next to the Spice Bazaar. The Mashgiach (kosher supervisor) enthusiastically welcomed us (we were the only people there) and we figured out that our only shared language was Hebrew (thank you, Ulpan). He ended up joining us at our table (he just sat down with us, we didn’t protest) and we asked him all the questions we had about the Turkish Jewish community.

We knew that because of prior terrorist attacks, all synagogues in Istanbul (there are many) require security checks and passport identification. Synagogues with active Jewish communities also require a fair amount of paperwork, background checks by the local Rabbinate and reservations for visits. Knowing this, we asked our new friend, Shimon, where/how we can daven with a minyan the following morning since we didn’t have time to obtain the proper permission. He wrote down the name and address of his synagogue and told us if we have problems, to drop his name. When we arrived at the synagogue the next morning the security guard met us with a little hesitation. “Jewish?” he asked us. Yes. “Passports?” We handed him our Israeli ones, which seemed to relax him a little and he brought us into the reinforced “interrogation room”. He then left us and disappeared into the synagogue. He came back with a typed note and repeated the message that we need to make a reservation with the Rabbinate. We told him we were invited to come pray and he just repeated “Problem, problem” over and over and led us back outside. Outside, we showed him the note that Shimon wrote us and asked the security guard to please find Shimon. Back in the reinforced room, Shimon came to get us and we joined the minyan for morning prayers (albeit a little late). 

Stef in from of Ashkenazi Synagogue

Matt in front of Beit Israel Synagogue before security guard let us in

The note denying our entrance into the synagogue

Reinforced doors at entrance to Synagogue

Beit Israel Synagogue

The rest of our trip was great. Many parts of Istanbul have a distinct Eurpoean feel (clean, cobblestone boulevards and sidewalk cafes), while other aspects were a little more familiar to our Middle Eastern sensibilities (tea vendors on the street, hookah bars and hijabs).  We are now heading to New York City to start our three week trip in the US and are trying to remember how to be Americans (as Israelis).

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend!

Stef and Matt

P.S. For those who know that we always run into people we know when on vacation, this trip was no exception, although it didn't happen until we were back at the airport. Someone I knew from college was just passing through the airport on a layover with her husband on their way from Jerusalem to New York, they were even on our flight. The legacy continues.

Excavating Canaan as Israelis

For the last couple weeks Matt has been working on an archaeological dig. What this means for me is that I have been sleeping alone. Thankfully it hasn't been too lonely since work has been keeping me busy and our friends are still living with us. 

Being on an archaeological dig is like being at adult summer camp. You live on site (or close to it), you have bunk mates, communal meals, group activities and a giant sand box to play in all day. While it sounds like fun and games, it is also an intense amount of physical labor. You wake up at 4:30am to get in a full day of digging before it gets too hot after lunchtime. The majority of digging doesn't involve uncovering amazing finds, but moving bucket after bucket of dirt. Swinging pick-axes, hauling rocks and collecting broken pottery take up most of your day.  Below, in a first time guest post, Matt explains what it's like to dig in the dirt as an Israeli...

When we made aliyah, the intention was to come to Haifa in order to begin my doctorate in archaeology. The hope was to dig as much as possible throughout the year to get as much experience as possible. If you know anything about our small country here, there is a lot to dig up. Basically everywhere you go there are ruins exposed or hiding beneath the surface of the ground. Quite often, these ruins are integrated into the modern landscape of the country and even find themselves in urban centers. There is so much at stake here that there is an Israeli law that requires archaeological surveys and excavations to be conducted before any construction project begins.

The second week we were here, I spent four days excavating at a site not so far from Tel Aviv called Tell Assur. It was an interesting salvage excavation located in the middle of a field. The project was a joint exposition sponsored by the University of Haifa and the local moshavim and towns in the area. The goal of the dig was to educate local school-aged children on archaeology and the history of the land of Israel.  That meant instead of archaeologists focusing on digging deep trenches and uncovering new finds, we were busy supervising (babysitting, really) a few hundred young Israelis teens hacking away with pick axes, hoes, and shovels in hand. Needless to say, we did a lot less digging and a lot more preventing the kids from destroying the site altogether.

The past few weeks, I have been excavating a Canaanite site that is over 3,500 years old (dates to the Middle Bronze Age). Called Tell Kabri, it is the third largest site in Israel from that time period, and it has the largest palace ever discovered here dating to that time. Located in the middle of Kibbutz Kabri’s avocado orchards (unfortunately it is not avocado season!), it likely once housed a local ruler that was not only Canaanite but that had many connections with the Mediterranean and Greek worlds. A number of years ago, archaeologists uncovered a beautiful fresco wall painting and painted plastered floor with scenes of landscape and the sea. These frescoes are the ONLY ones ever discovered in Israel and the origins of the style are from the Minoan world (a powerful kingdom that existed on Crete, Greece, around the same time period).

What are we working on this year? Figuring out how a large palatial economy functioned. What did Kabri trade, with whom did it trade, and how was trade and commerce conducted, in general? Fortunately for us, we found a large storage room on the side of the palace, filled from wall to wall with large storage vessels, many of which were over a meter tall. Once we are able to completely remove all of the vessels, we can begin to figure out the contents that they once may have held. We are hoping for olives, oils, wines, grains and more.

The past two weeks have been long intense days. The dig week is Sunday throughThursday. We wake up at 4:30 a.m. every morning, start digging by 5:00 a.m., and usually end at around 1:00 p.m. Some days we work double shifts, meaning we excavate through lunch and into the late afternoon. When we are not digging, we are doing other stuff like cleaning and analyzing pottery and bones and analyzing organic samples from soil we kept. It is exhausting work, but it is exceedingly fun.

The hardest part, of course, is being away from home and being away from Stef for so long. This is part of the trade, unfortunately. Luckily, we are only a short train ride away (about 30 minutes), so we’ve managed to sneak in a few extra visits throughout my time on the dig. I hope you enjoy some of the pictures I have been taking!

Sitting in Traffic as Israelis

As part of my job, I travel weekly with my group to places all around the country. And since it is my job, I travel even when I have a bad cold, like I did this trip (and still do). This week's trip was to the Negev, the large desert in the south that accounts for about 60% of Israel's land mass (but only houses 10% of the population).  As our destination was rather far from Haifa, we got on the road at about 6:45am for our 3 hour journey.  

Not even half an hour later, reports started coming in on the radio about a massive crash on the southbound side of the highway we were on. Two large trucks had crashed into each other, essentially shutting down the highway. After consulting with the bus driver, we decided to get off and find an alternative route. Unfortunately for us, the parallel highway was also backed up from an early morning crash and the our third highway option was so crowded from it's regular morning traffic in addition to all the drivers who would have normally been on the other two highways. So we sat in traffic. Eventually we made it off and got onto surface streets only to sit in more traffic. I told my group they were now having an authentic Israeli experience. Long story short, we made it to our destination 5 hours later.

Sadly for my group (and for me) we ended up spending more time on the bus that day than we did at the actual sites we were visiting. While I received my fair share of complaints, I am glad to have a few "silver lining" participants, who always manage to see the positive, no matter how small. "At least we got to see another part of the country, albeit briefly. When are we going to be back here in the near future anyway?"

(Warning: next story is a little gross) 

As we boarded the bus back to Haifa, just a mere 4 hours after arriving in the Negev, my exhaustion, the tremendous heat, my cold and my general bus sickness all caught up to me at once - I was going to throw up. Luckily in my backpack I had a plastic bag, which I grabbed immediately. I tried to ask the bus driver to pull over, but every time I opened my mouth I couldn't get the words out. I knew my only option was the plastic bag, so I nonchalantly (if you can say that about throwing up), did what I had to do.  

I was rather quiet and at first no one noticed.  Then the bus driver caught a glimpse of me in his rear view mirror. Immediately, he started to panic. His eyes went wide and his movements became jerky. Then he started gagging. He wildly pulled the bus off to the side of the road, threw the doors open, ran off the bus and puked himself. He turned back to me: "I have a thing when other people throw up."  He then insisted I get rid of my plastic bag.  When I looked confused and reminded him we were in the middle of the desert and there was not a garbage can in sight, he yelled at me to leave it in the bush, I was "not allowed back on the bus with that thing." As much as I hate littering, I conceded (I mean, I didn't really want to hold on to it either...). My last thought as we pulled away was: "should a man with such an adverse reaction to vomit really be a bus driver? Doesn't it sort of come with the territory?"

On that note, Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend!

Stef and Matt

Hosting Americans as Israelis

I've written in the past about friends and family coming to visit us in Haifa.  We love having the opportunity to use our guest room and show off our new hometown.  This week we welcomed extra special guests, close friends who will be living with us for a month.

When friends stay for extended periods of time, they turn from guests into roommates. Having roommates means there are extra sets of hands to help out with the cooking and cleaning, which I absolutely can't complain about.  At the same time, they remain visitors which pushes us do things outside our normal routine - go out to dinner, sightsee, and have long discussions about politics and life in Israel.  

These friends happen to be here specifically to learn Hebrew. Both are graduate students and received a grant to come to Israel, immerse themselves in Israeli life and, like I said, learn Hebrew.  They will soon begin a summer ulpan course at the University of Haifa to formally work on their language skills, but in the meantime have been grocery shopping, opened a gym membership and traveled around on the train and buses speaking to everyone they can in Hebrew. I am thoroughly impressed with their determination and persistence to speak in Hebrew at every opportunity, even with each other and with us at home. 

One of the highlights of partaking in their experience is seeing their reaction to Haifa. Both of them have spent some sort of extensive period of time in Israel before (she was once my roommate in Jerusalem), but neither have spent much time in Israel outside the "tourist cities" aka Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. As people working on spoken language skills, being in Haifa has been a huge advantage even in these first few days of their trip. One of the challenges of having an American accent in Hebrew is, when detected by the Israeli who you are trying to engage in conversation, the conversation easily switches over to English.  Turns out that many Israelis are just as interested in using their English as we may be using our Hebrew.  In Haifa, however, this happens much less frequently. Our friends appreciate, just as we do, that local Haifans are more willing to speak to you slowly and allow you to stumble through your Hebrew without making you feel bad that you aren't quite fluent.  Maybe this is a result of us living in a particularly non-touristy part of Haifa where English is much less frequently heard. Maybe Haifa is just a slower paced city. Either way, we feel proud of our city when our friends come home from a day out on the town and express how nice everyone they encountered was.  We hope during the rest of their time here, Haifa continues to live up to their first impressions.  

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

Living in a Small Country as Israelis

Writing about hospital visits three weeks in a row was not my intention, but sometimes that's just where life brings you.  Let's rewind a bit... On my group's schedule this past week was our big weekend trip/Shabbaton to Yerucham, a tiny town not too far from Be'er Sheva.  We left early early on Thursday morning for Jerusalem, where we spent the day, and then headed off to Yerucham to spend our weekend in the middle of the desert. We planned ahead that Matt would join the group for Shabbat - he would take the train to Be'er Sheva on Friday and then a bus over to Yerucham.  

On Thursday we got a call from Matt's aunt that his uncle had suffered a heart attack and was being treated at the hospital in Be'er Sheva. Rewind... Matt's aunt and uncle live on a kibbutz just north of Eilat (all the way in the south of Israel). When he wasn't feeling well, he went to the hospital in Eilat which is the closest, albeit very small, hospital. He then suffered the heart attack while in the hospital (which, if you're going to have a heart attack, is the best place to do it) and got medevaced in a helicopter to the larger, better equipped hospital in next biggest city, Be'er Sheva. 

Even though Be'er Sheva is on the opposite side of the country from Haifa, as fate would have it, Matt and I would both be in Be'er Sheva anyway on Friday, which allowed us to easily pop over to the hospital to visit with Matt's uncle and family.  It was a meaningful visit and we're glad we were able to do it with such little planning on our end (but lots of "planning" from the powers-that-be).

A quick story about getting to the hospital. I had agreed that morning to accompany a group of my students to Beer Sheva (with the intention of sneaking away for a bit). I also agreed to run an errand for a kid from another group who had broken his leg and had also recently broken his crutches. There is an organization with branches all over Israel called Yad Sarah that provides rental crutches, wheelchairs and other medical equipment to anyone who needs it, including tourists, and I was heading off to go switch out the broken crutches for working ones. As I walked down the street carrying the crutches and trying to hail a cab, our bus driver, who was patiently waiting in the parking lot for our group to finish the activity, began honking his horn at me.  "Where are you going?" he shouted at me through the window, "Do you want a ride?" I hadn't even thought about asking the bus driver for a private ride around town. In the end, I got a personal ride to Yad Sarah and also to the hospital, had a nice conversation with the bus driver and saved myself s few cab rides.  

Matt's uncle is now recovering well and has been released from the hospital. He asked us to reiterate to you all that he got to ride in a helicopter (for only the second time in his life). While in the helicopter, the paramedic struck up a conversation: "Where are you from? Oh, you're from a kibbutz?  A real socialist kibbutz? I'm also from a kibbutz, Ramat Rachel. Oh, your daughter works there?  Of course I know her! She's my children's preschool teacher!"  And so it goes in this tiny country where your helicopter paramedic's children are students in your daughter's preschool class.  

Let's hope that this is the end of hospital themed weekly updates.  Stay healthy everyone.

Have a great week,

Stef and Matt  

Keeping Things in Perspective as Israelis Part II

(Warning: this is a long one)

Being responsible for a group a tourists sometimes means you need to spend a week in the hospital.  Which is precisely how I spent much of this last week, but thankfully it was only 5 days.  And also thankfully, the kid ended up not actually being sick, story to follow.  

Just as I sent out last week's update, I went to check my work phone and realized it was off.  My battery had died about an hour and a half earlier and when I plugged it in to recharge, I forgot to actually turn the phone back on. 30 seconds after turning it on, my phone was buzzing out of control.  There were text messages and missed calls from basically everyone I work with.  I quickly called someone back to find out that one of my participants had been rushed to the hospital.  

Let's rewind a few days.  One of my participants got sick, nothing out of the ordinary, just classic upset stomach/potential food poisoning type symptoms.  After a few days with no symptom relief, he saw a doctor who prescribed some pain killers and told him to rest.  He went to work the next day anyway.  Since this participant works at a hospital (a different hospital than last week's story) and he was still feeling pretty off, he decided to walk downstairs and check himself into the emergency room.  Anyway, when I got the call from him that he was there, I hopped in a cab to go meet him.  We were there for a good 6 hours while they did a basic work up on him, including some blood tests, and they re-hydrated him with an IV (it seems that everyone who comes into an Israeli ER gets an IV regardless of why you're there - pretty sure I saw a guy with a broken leg also get an IV).  In the end, they said it was probably food poisoning, they sent him home, told him to eat plain foods and prescribed the same pain killers as the previous doctor.

Now fast-forward to Friday at 5:00pm.  I was just about to start cooking dinner when I had to abruptly leave and rush to the hospital. By the time I got there, my participant was already checked in to his own semi-private room (with an incredible view of the Mediterranean Sea, may I add).  The doctor explained that one of his blood tests from the previous day's visit to the ER had come back showing traces of bacteria in his blood. This, I found out, is quite dangerous and could lead to heart damage, which is why the hospital had actually sent a cab to pick up my participant from his dorm and bring him directly to the hospital.  No one I have spoken to has ever heard of a hospital here doing that before (maybe it's because he volunteers at the hospital?  such VIP treatment...). Nevertheless, he would have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days while they did more tests and pumped him full of antibiotics. I helped arrange that a few of his friends would bring him his stuff from his dorm and keep him company over Shabbat and I actually made it home just in time for candle-lighting and Matt had cooked Shabbat dinner in my place.  (So glad a married someone who can also cook).  

The next few days became increasingly frustrating as I spent long days in the hospital trying to get straight answers about this participant's condition.  Every visit from the doctor - a different doctor each time - seemed to come with a different story and a different diagnosis. "He has bacteria in his blood, but we don't yet know what it is."  "He hasStreptococcus Viridans, which is very dangerous and can cause heart damage and he needs to have an EKG right away."  Back to "we still haven't gotten conclusive results on the bacteria." And then "He could be here for up to two weeks with intravenous antibiotics" to "It seems that there was a contamination in his blood test and the bacteria is not actually in his blood and he will likely be released tomorrow."  And then "I don't know who told you he would be released today, but we're still waiting for conclusive results from his blood test and depending on how it comes out, he could be here for 6 weeks."  

At that point I lost it and demanded to speak to the head doctor on the floor. I needed one person to tell me exactly what was going on because after 4 days of sitting in the hospital, my participant, who was now feeling completely healthy, was itching to get out of his hospital bed and, let's be honest, I was not looking forward to spending another day there either. A nurse brought me into the doctors room and I demanded to be told all the most up to date facts and when we would be getting out of there. The answer was inconclusive, they were still waiting for test results. The doctor did manage, however, to insult me in the process: "Well, maybe you just didn't understand what the doctors have been telling you. Where did you learn your Hebrew from anyway? How well can you understand Hebrew?" I told him I understand Hebrew just fine which is why I have understood that every doctor has told me something different. He then confirmed that we would not be leaving the hospital that day and sent me away.

My blood boiling with frustration, I walked down the hallway, replaying what just happened in my head, trying to hold back tears. An elderly woman, whose 85 year old husband was 2 beds away from from my participant, saw me pacing the hallway and asked me what was wrong.  I sat down to speak with her and as soon as my mouth opened, the tears began to flow. I explained how I couldn't get a straight answer from a doctor, how my kid felt completely healthy and was more-or-less wasting hospital resources at this point, how I didn't know what to tell him when he kept asking me if he could just check himself out and go home, and how I felt like an idiot reporting back to my office and to the kid's parents that we still don't know what's going on after 4 days.  

To calm me down, the woman just starting telling me her life story. Both she and her husband are Holocaust survivors. She was just a young girl, 5 years old, when the war ended and came to Israel on a boat full of ma'apilim, illegal Jewish immigrants trying to come to British mandate Palestine.  The boat she was on was intercepted by the British and was rerouted to a detainee camp in Cyprus. After statehood was declared in 1948, she finally made it to Israel, grew up, married her husband and started a family. She had two children, a boy and a girl. Her son was later killed while serving in the IDF in the first Lebanon war. Her daughter, who had been in the hospital visiting earlier, now has children of her own and they are proud grandparents. Her husband, however, is very sick and she doesn't know how long he will have to spend in the hospital. She doesn't drive and she had to take two buses from their home just outside Haifa to come visit him that day. 

I sat there and listened. Here is this woman who has suffered a tremendous amount in her life and here am I crying because a doctor insulted my Hebrew and my perfectly healthy participant is stuck in a hospital while they complete further tests. Talk about keeping things in perspective. I thanked the woman, mostly because I didn't know what to say, but also because I was honestly grateful for her opening up to me the way she did and helping me reevaluate my situation. She told me to stop thanking her and sent me away to go get myself something to eat.  My participant was released from the hospital the following morning when it was confirmed that the first clood test had indeed been contaminated and he had been fine the whole time.

Later in the week I took my group to Atlit, a British mandate detainee camp near Haifa. Tens of thousands of Jewish immigrants were interned in this camp, similar to the later camps in Cyprus, between the years 1939 and 1948. The majority of my participants were unfamiliar with this part of Israeli history.  As I watched their faces in near disbelief that Jews were imprisoned for trying to make their way to what would become the State of Israel, I thought of the woman in the hospital and prayed for her husband's quick recovery.  

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekends,

Stef and Matt

Keeping Things in Perspective As Israelis

Well, it happened.  After 8 months of writing to you weekly, I missed a week.  It was bound to happen eventually.  At least this time I had a good excuse.

My summer participants arrived!  After months of prepping and searching for their internships, they are here and our program has begun.  Let's just say, I've been busy.  In the last week and a half I have received more phone calls and text messages than the previous 8 months.  It is really amazing what happens when 25 new people suddenly come into your life.  But not just any new people, 25 new people who are dependent on you for, well, basically everything.  As it turns out, I have a pretty great group and aside from a few minor glitches, everything has been running smoothly.  

I'll share one quick story.  For months and months I was basically playing a vicious game of phone tag trying to set up a participant's internship at one of the hospitals.  I was trying to plan ahead, settle the internship in plenty of time before the participant arrived and get as many details as I could so I could pass the info along to said participant and our Boston funders.  The volunteer coordinator at the hospital, however, had a different sense of the necessary timeline.  As far as she was concerned, we could call her the day before and it would all happen.  As this was not going to work for me, we spent many many weeks going back and forth until I got almost enough information to satisfy me.  The last step was for me to meet her in person before the summer began.  She was not going to have this.  We compromised and agreed that instead of meeting ahead of time, I would come with the participant on his first day and we would meet then.

Come day one of summer internship, I accompany my intern to the hospital.  We locate the correct office and we find... a note with my name on it  tucked into the doorknob.  I read the letter outloud, translating into English, which said that she was sorry she couldn't come in that day, but we could go directly to the lab where my participant would be working and meet the lab director there.  She left his phone number.  So began our scavenger hunt.  As the two of us wandered around a massive hospital that neither of us had ever been to before, meandering through winding hallways, asking for directions at every corner, getting into the wrong elevator, which was actually the right elevator, peeking our heads into hospital rooms we probably shouldn't have been in, I decided it would be a good time to share my "new to Israel" philosophy with my new-to-Israel-participant.  

"Sometimes (aka often) annoying and frustrating things.  People and things aren't where they're supposed to be.  Expectations aren't met.  Conventions and manners are broken.  You feel lost and confused.  But, when you stop and think about what's happening, it's actually a funny story.  Even in the moment, think about the way you'll tell this story to your family and friends and how absurd and hilarious it will sound.  That is what helps gets though the day."

And ultimately, that is why I write this blog.  To give me a chance to keep things in perspective and to laugh at myself and my life at least once a week.  Thank you all for reading and to my Dad for noticing that I didn't write last week.

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

P.S. Happy Anniversary to my (Stef's) wonderful parents and Happy Graduation to Brittany (sister/sister-in-law), who is graduating from UCSB this weekend!  

Comparison Shopping as Israelis

One of the hardest things to stop doing after making aliyah is converting shekels back to dollars. I still find myself, when trying to figure out if something is expensive or not, calculating how much it would be in US dollars. This practice is obviously not fair (to me) and can only lead to frustration.  We have generally come to terms with the fact that as Israelis we will be making less money than we could have in the States and most products will nevertheless cost more than they did in the good ole USofA.  Such is life here (but thank the lord for trips back to visit family, aka trips to Target).  

The one place where I have completely stopped converting back to dollars is the grocery store.  Even pretty early on I got to know the average prices of food stuffs and felt no need to compare to what we paid back States-side.  But now, instead of comparing to dollars, I incessantly compare between grocery stores, which is both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because the prices between stores really do differ and in pretty significant ways.  For example, there is a cooking oil that I sometimes like to use called Zeitola - a combination of olive oil (zeyit) and canola oil.  Sometimes I have a hard time even finding this product because you never know when it's going to be in stock or not (more on that later), but when I do find it, the prices are all over the board.  The average price I pay for Zeitola is 17nis (nis = new Israeli shekel).  This morning, at the Chareidi market (more on that later, too) they were fully stocked with Zeitola and it was only 14nis!  When I continued my shopping expedition (going to multiple grocery stores in one trip has become the norm), I found that our local branch of Shufersal Sheli was also fully stocked with Zeitola, but selling it for 23nis!  These two markets are less than a block from each other.

These "extreme" price differences can drive one crazy (here's where the curse part comes in) as you travel from shop to shop buying different products in different places, trying to keep straight in your head who has the best prices on what where.  And there is no logic to it.  Our corner store, which is generally the most expensive overall, has the cheapest tomato sauce in our entire neighborhood.  The Chareidi market, which generally has the best prices, is least consistent in stocking the products you're looking for, so every time you go in it's a gamble on whether they'll even have what you want anymore.  I used to go this this store for two products in particular, carob spread and 100% natural apple juice concentrate, which were cheaper here than anywhere else I had seen. Neither of these products are stocked there anymore, which has taught me the lesson of not getting attached to certain products or prices.  You just never know.  

To add the the shopping madness, I like to do my fruit and veggie shopping either at the shuk (open air market) or at the independent  fresh produce stand.  Quality and prices are much better than super markets.  I also generally buy my fish at the fish monger and my meat at the butcher, which adds two more stops to my shopping excursions.  I'm not sure the prices on fish and meat are any better than the grocery store, but I like the experience and freshness of going there.  

Many of our Israeli friends have moved past this madness by driving to the big discount super markets (those with cars) or simply moving past the price comparison shopping and ordering all their groceries online, after which they get delivered directly to their door.  We might get there one day (we'll see what comes first: a car or succumbing to online shopping), but as for now, I kind of enjoy my crazy shopping method.  

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

Convenience of Observance as Israelis

I think I can now officially give the tour of the Bahai Gardens myself as I attended my third guided tour of the Gardens this week in the span of one month.  This visitor friend and I, however, went on the Hebrew tour - a first for me - which I found out is more-or-less exactly the same as the English tour.  Each time I go on the tour, which involves walking down hundreds of steps, my calves hurt slightly less the next day.  If this keeps up, I will soon have calves of steel.  

This week also included an excursion with my tour-guide friend.  This time we went to go check out a water-hike she will have to guide this summer with a group.  The hike itself was fun and refreshing and also provided for good people watching, mostly an array of high school groups that included secular Jews, Druze, and Beis Yaakov girls, among others.  

As we drove up to the hike and it came to be around lunch time, we decided to pull over into a gas station to grab some lunch.  Gas stations do not generally provide gourmet food options, and we knew this going in, but we were hoping to just grab something quick to go and continue on our way.  We were pleasantly surprised to find descent looking packaged sandwiches in the refrigerator section, that while clearly not so fresh, would do the job just fine.  As we deliberated over which sandwiches to buy, it struck me that this was kind of an amazing moment.  I am standing in a gas station convenient store off the side of the highway trying to decide if I want the labeled kosher dairy, parve or meat sandwich.  Had we been in any other country in the world, I would be buying an apple and a bag of chips if I was lucky. A kosher sandwich would be no where in sight. It is easy to take the abundance of kosher options in this country for granted some times.  

And it's not just kosher concerns, but Jewish observance in general that is made so easy by living here.  You never have to request special days off and use up all your vacation days for Jewish holidays because everyone has off.  You don't have to explain to your boss why you have to be home by a certain time on Friday afternoons (and why that time changes throughout the course of the year) because (if you even work on Fridays) everyone here knows that Shabbat is coming.  You don't have to justify bringing little black boxes with leather straps on an airplane because the security people at the airport are familiar with tefillin.  Your doctor will tell you not to worry since the medication she is prescribing you right before Passover is kosher for Passover, without even being prompted. And you can partake in all the wine and cheese at the Wine and Cheese Festival, since after asking the cheese vendor if his cheese was kosher, he replied "of course!" as if that was completely obvious.  

I know as time passes we will become accustomed to these realities.  It will become normal that we live in a Jewish country that is (more-or-less) in sync with our personal Jewish lives.  But for now, I openly appreciate the convenience of Jewish observance and recognize how unique this place is.  

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

Free Groceries as Israelis

It seems that there has been a holiday here every week since Pesach... and that's because there has.

We celebrated the last of this season's holidays this week with Shavuot, the Festival of Weeks, called as such because we have been counting the days - 49 days in total - from the beginning of Pesach until now.  On Shavuot we commemorate the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai and we count from Pesach, aka the exodus from Egypt, to Shavuot as an expression of our anticipation and excitement for Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah.  As "excited" as we are, sometimes we need a little help to remember to count every day.  To do this, Matt set a nifty reminder on his phone that beeped at the same time every night.  It was actually a little sad when the phone beeped the evening after Shavuot and we no longer had to perform our little nightly ritual.  I guess there's always next year.

Shavuot also marks the festival of the grain harvest in Biblical times.  During Passover we began the barely harvest and by Shavuot, the 7 week party, known as the grain harvest, comes to a close.  You would think then that the traditional food of Shavuot would be grain based, but then you would be wrong, we still haven't gotten over all the carbs we ate in our post-Pesach binges.  No, on Shavuot, we eat cheese.  Why?  That's complicated (aka I don't really know).

Since we were just having a quiet meal at home with no guests, we decided to make ourselves a big lasagna with homemade noodles (thanks, pasta machine!).  We headed off the day before the holiday to stock up on groceries at our local Yesh.  Yesh is a pretty bare-bones supermarket chain, no fancy frilly things, and it stocks pretty basic items.  So as long as you don't need anything that's even slightly exotic, Yesh is a fine place to shop.  It also helps that it is our closest walk-able supermarket.  

The word "yesh" in Hebrew translates more or less to mean "have" - yesh li = I have.  Colloquially, however, when someone exclaims "yesh!" it is used to mean "Yes! Alright! Got it!"  

Since we frequent the Yesh often enough, I signed up for their credit card a few months back which gets me discounts every now and again.  This time, when we went to go pay for our groceries, comprised mainly of cheese products, the cashier said "you have 100 shekel."  Having no idea what she was talking about I asked "100 shekel for what?"  To which she replied "all card holders are receiving a gift of 100 shekels," therefore making our groceries for the day completely free.  To which Matt replied, "Yesh!" 

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt