Pesach Part I: From Bread to Matzah as Israelis

What is unique about Pesach (Passover) in Israel, that makes it markedly different than anywhere else in the world, is that it is a week-long national holiday.  Yes, it is a week long holidays for Jews all over the globe, but nowhere else quite compares to a whole country going on a week-long vacation at the same time.  This phenomenon is called: chol-hamoed Pesach (the intermediary days of Passover), aka the days when everyone and their mother decides to travel.  The closest thing to compare it to is imagining you had American Thanksgiving, followed by a 5 days of the 4th of July, followed by another, smaller low-key, Thanksgiving (with Shababt thrown in the middle there too).  The results of this are festivals, attractions and national parks that are filled to the brim, lots of time to spend with friends and family and ultimately, roads that are constantly jammed (and consequently, not so safe).  Matt and I decided to live it up this Pesach + chol-hamoed.  Here are a few of our highlights:

Let's start at the beginning, which is actually the day before the holiday begins. One of the practices of the holiday is to rid your home of any leavened grain products known aschametz.  This includes bread, cakes, pasta, etc.  For about a month already, we had been eating down our pantry stock-pile of leavened products so that we would have as little left as possible come the start of Passover.  While it is permissible to "sell" whatever chametz you were you unable to finish off, if throwing it out would cause you financial loss (and reclaim it at the end of the holiday), the tradition is to actually burn any leftover chametz the morning before Pesach begins.  What this practically looks (and smells) like is large communal piles of burning bread on many residential street corners.  You know Passover is coming when, wherever you go, you can't escape the smell of toast.  A big thank you to the city of Haifa for putting out metal garbage cans for this purpose (the regular city plastic bins have been known to melt in these circumstances).  A big ... (what's the opposite of thank you?) to all my neighbors who brought their chametz to burn in plastic bags and also threw their plastic bags on the fire!  But a hearty thank you to the big, white-bearded haredi/ultra-orthodox man, who stood on the street corner yelling at everyone who threw plastic on the fire.  

On my way home from chametz burning a little haredi/ultra-orthodox boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old, approached me carrying one of those big 5-pack boxes of matzah.  He looked up at me with his bespectacled eyes and asked: "Do you eat this?"  My immediate response was "Sure, I eat matzah on Passover (duh?)"  He then followed up with "cause we can't eat this because it's not Badatz (a more stringent form of kosher supervision), so do you eat matzah that's not badatz?"  I thought to myself: "of course I do" which must have come across in my eyes, because before I knew it I was standing on the street corner holding a 5-pack box of matzah watching this kid running back down the street.  Unfortunately, we are now left with more matzah than we know what to do with because we already had a 5-pack box at home and since we were barely home for the holiday we only actually ate through one pack... guess we'll be eating matzah for a while.  

We headed off to Tel Aviv for seder where we were joined by Matt's Aunt, Uncle and cousins at a family friend's house.  It is definitely hard to be far away from our immediate families during the holidays, but we are lucky to have some family and many friends that feel like family, here is Israel.  Our seder hosts' five-and-a-half year old twin daughters really hit that point home for us.  When we asked them the next day if the people we were going to visit were friends of their mom and dad (we already knew the answer was yes), they looked us straight in the eyes and said: "No, they're our family."  While we could never replace our actual families we are thankful to our extended family and family-friends who help up fill the void.  

The next few days were spent traveling the country - from Tel Aviv, back to Haifa and then on to Jerusalem.  We had many adventures and note-worthy experiences, but you'll have to wait until next week and "Pesach Part II" to hear about them.  I will leave you with one short exciting encounter: our first Israeli celebrity sighting!  As we were walking through the streets of Tel Aviv, past cafes and restaurants, Matt ran up to me yelling: "I saw Chaim! It's Chaim!"  I started racking my brain... who is Chaim?  Who do we know named Chaim that would be in Tel Aviv right now?  Turns out, that the actor that plays a character named Chaim on the TV show "חטופים"/"Hatufim" ("Prisinors of War" - which is the Israeli show that "Homeland was based off of), which we recently finished watching, had just walked into a restaurant.  Not 100% sure it was him, Matt told me to run back and check, so I did and lo and behold, it really was him.  Matt was amused at how star-struck he was, especially after growing up in LA, but for us to even recognize local actors (who don't carry such high celebrity status) is a minor accomplishment as new Israelis.  

Chag Pesach Sameach and Happy Easter to all who are celebrating today,

Stef and Matt

Preparing for Pesach and Stef's Birthday as Israelis

I knew this first birthday as Israelis was going to be a good one.  It all started off with a good omen from the post office last week when I drew the ticket with my birth date on it:

I want to take this time to thank many of you for the birthday greetings and wishes.  Most of all, I want to thank Matt for making, not just my birthday, but the whole week a special occasion.  Everyday this week Matt came home with a different book in a series of Israeli guide books in Hebrew so that we could plan fun trips while also working on our Hebrew.  The presents culminated with a pasta maker, (made in Italy!) which I had been coveting ever since we starting watching Master Chef.  I can't wait to start making pasta! (after Passover, that is)

My birthday celebrations also included a yummy shakshuka breakfast at the cafe on our corner... 

(for those who don't know what shakshuka is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakshouka ) 

...and an evening of roaming around and enjoying an urban architecture festival in downtown Haifa, which also included dance performances, live music, and a skate park (Matt enjoyed a little nostalgia watching the skate boarders skate to the live punk band).  

All-in-all a great birthday.

Even though it was Birthday Week, the main focus of the last few days was preparing the house for Pesach/Passover.  For whatever reason, we feel pretty calm about the whole cleaning and kashering this year (probably because we're not really going to be home much for the holiday). We made a schedule, have more-or-less stuck to it, found 21 shekels, 5 US cents, an earring, a lego and a pair of scissors in the cleaning process and have finished all our food shopping (thanks to a friend who graciously called to let me know she was driving to the big supermarket and invited me to come along).  It definitely helps the preparation process that the whole country is also in Pesach mode.  Everyone at work is making preparations to take the week off and kids are all home from school, which started a week ago and means that there have been kids of all ages wandering the streets and going with their parents to work (this became clear to me when a 10 year old boy was clearing tables at the cafe near my office).  Everywhere you turn, you are reminded that Pesach is coming - from signs up on the street, special sales at the grocery store and, my favorite, the bus wishing me a happy holiday. 

So Chag Pesach Kasher v'Sameach/Happy Passover,

Stef and Matt

P.S. For anyone that missed this Passover related news item from a couple weeks ago, locusts swarmed Egypt and southern Israel reminiscent of the 8th plague in the Passover story: http://www.haaretz.com/news/national/locusts-invade-israel-s-negev-after-plaguing-egypt.premium-1.507240 

End of an Era as Israelis

And that's it, ulpan* is officially over.  Five months ago I really didn't think I would stay in ulpan for 5 months... but here I am, with the final exam under my belt and one and half notebooks full of new vocab words.  While I feel that this in itself is a major accomplishment, it really extends much farther than that because I have essentially been in ulpan, on and off, for 17 years.  

(*Ulpan = school for intensive Hebrew language study)

It all started the summer I was 12 years old and a close family friend, who happened to be an ulpan teacher, encouraged my family to come to Israel and learn at the residential ulpan where she taught in Netanya.  It was one of those idyllic childhood summers - spending my days out in the sun, exploring my independence in the kibbutz-like communal living setting and, of course, learning Hebrew (and I really did learn a lot of Hebrew that summer).

And thus started my long relationship with ulpan.  Upon returning to the US after that summer, I promptly forgot most of my Hebrew or at least, it went dormant.  When I went off to university years later and saw that they offered a Hebrew course, I eagerly signed up with hopes of rekindling the Hebrew part of my brain.  My first year in school, the university was offering Hebrew 2 and thinking, "hey, I once knew some Hebrew," figured I could hack it.  After one class, realizing that almost all the other students were children of Israelis who could speak fluently, but couldn't read or write to save their lives, while I could read a bit and write a bit but couldn't force a sentence through my lips, I knew I would have to wait until the next year when they would offer Hebrew 1.  The following year I would work my way through most of the ulpan 'א (level 1) book which would propel me to א' פלוס (level 1 plus) when I would begin my next ulpan at Hebrew University in Jerusalem for my semester abroad.  Like many people, when I headed home after 6 months in Israel, I felt like I was "nearly fluent."  Looking back, however, I really knew very little.

I continued to work through ulpan workbooks as an independent study in my last year of university, determined not to lose what I had already gained.  Then I moved to Israel (the first time, in 2006).  Over the course of the next three years I completed a summer ulpan course at Haifa University and two years of part-time ulpan for the Educators program at Pardes.  I felt like at that point, someone should have given me a medal for sticking through ulpan for all that time.  To top it off, Matt and I even attended a once a week ulpan when we moved back to Chicago to keep our skills sharp as we prepared for aliyah.

As you can imagine, I didn't think ulpan was in my cards when we came to Haifa, I mean, enough is enough, right?  On the other hand, one of the benefits of aliyah is 5 free months of ulpan...  When the job search turned out to be less than fruitful in our first months here, I found myself wandering into the office of Ulpan Etzion Carmel.  I figured I could start out in ulpan until I got a job and it would give me a reason to get up and out in the mornings and it couldn't hurt to learn a little bit more Hebrew.  And I learned Hebrew, a lot of it.  It is amazing how whenever you think you know a lot about something, you find out there is so much more to know.  Beyond the Hebrew, I also met wonderful and interesting new people from all different backgrounds, coming together as we all struggled through the tough beginnings of aliyah.  I honestly had no intention of sticking it out for the full 5 months, but as it turns out, I guess I like ulpan.  

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

Loving the Land as Israelis

Between the two of us, we were barely in Haifa this week.  From me traveling to Jerusalem for training sessions at work, to Matt traveling to Beer Sheva for an archaeology conference and the two of us taking a somewhat impromptu tiyul (trip) with our closest friend and tour guide to the Lebanese border - we definitely got around (which I guess isn't so hard, this country is pretty small).  

The greatest part about having a best friend who is also a licensed tour guide is that she knows the best places to go and if she doesn't, she knows how to find out.  On our itinerary this time was a visit to some old German Templar settlements outside Haifa, a quick visit to a spice farm (yum), a short hike to see some neat geological formations and a 12th century crusader castle, and the grottos of Rosh Hanikra at Israel's northern border with Lebanon.  

One of the goals of our little trip, besides spending time together and enjoying the outdoors, was finding wildflowers which are blooming all over the country right now.  We found red, blue, white, purple and yellow flowers.  We admired them, examined them and tried to look them up using an iphone app (but gave up on that after a little while).

At some point we looked at each other and asked: why are we so intrigued by these small little flowers?   Why are we so invested in the landscape and the nature surrounding us?  While the answer on the one hand is: because they are beautiful, the real answer is because we are wholly invested in the land of Israel.  When we made aliyah and came here we weren't just coming to a state, to a new country, but to a land.  It is the land of Israel, not the modern state that contains our history, that ties us to this particular place when so many other places in the world are easier and calmer.  The country we live in is the manifestation of a people's longing for this land over thousands of years.  When you're out in nature, you don't see political borders even though they are mere kilometers away, you don't see passports and you don't see enemies - it is easy to fall in love with this place.  

But then, in the nature, you are brought back to reality when, on the path of your hike, you walk up to the memorial built in the memory of two soldiers who were killed and kidnapped by Hezbollah not far from where you stand.  To their side, as you look out from the mountain top across the breathtaking panorama, a memorial for the other soldiers who were killed in that same action.  In our world you can't always separate land from State, people from nation, history from memory, and that's what it means to live in Israel.  

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a great weekend,

Stef and Matt

6th Months as Israelis

Can you believe it!  We've been here for half a year already.  That means I'm halfway to my goal of "blogging" once a week for our first year as Israelis.  Also an impressive feat.  

After I sent the last update, I realized I forgot to include one of the funniest Purim-related anecdotes.  So here is a little post script to the "Purim as Israelis" post:

Just like in America before Halloween, in the month leading up to Purim random costume shops seem to pop up on every street corner and there are numerous full-page adds in the newspaper with all the "hottest" costumes of the season.  For many young children (and some adults too) picking the perfect Purim costume can be an all-consuming and stressful time - to be a police man or super hero?  It's always a tough decision.  To complicate the matter, in addition to having to choose between familiar super heroes like Superman and Spiderman, in Israel there is also (my new favorite super hero)... Tomato Man!  

We have come a long way in these first six months.  We are fully settled into our apartment, set in our weekly routines and employed.  We have made friends - some Hebrew speaking, some English - gotten to know our neighbors, the local butcher and hummus guy by name and have yelled - in Hebrew! - at the phone company (yelling in a foreign language is more impressive than it sounds).  The main obstacle that we weren't able to overcome in these first six months was how to hang the shower curtain in our oddly shaped bathtub.  So be it if that's the worst thing, and anyway we have learned how to shower without a shower curtain causing minimal splash-age.  Add that to the accomplishment list.  

Even after living in Israel for as long as we have (about 4+ years total) there are still certain things that leave me saying: "I'm not in American anymore..."  Not too long ago my computer power cord up and died.  This was no so surprising as I think I was on cord number 3 or 4 anyway.  After a few days of a computer "black out" I decided it was time to bite the bullet and buy a new one.  My first realization was that I couldn't just go on to Amazaon and buy a cheap cord - the shipping alone cost 4 times the price of the cord.  After failing to think of anyone I knew who might be coming to Israel from the States that could bring the cord to me, I started to consider my options here in Haifa.  The next day I found myself at a small computer repair shop around the corner from my Ulpan.  To my great relief they had the exact cord I needed and, truth be told, it was even better than my old one because it had an Israeli plug on it - no more little plug converter things for me!  The big drawback, however, was the price.  Still feeling the sticker shock, I called Matt and asked him to check if the computer store on campus had the right cord for cheaper.  He agreed, but couldn't check until the next day.  Before purchasing the power cord I asked the cashier if I don't end up using the cord, could I return it?  She assured me that I could, so I handed her my credit card.  And there was my mistake.  

Matt ended up getting me the cord for 2/3 of the price I paid, so early the next week I returned to the repair shop to get my money back for what I had bought.  I happened to be going with a friend who was dropping off her laptop for repair.  I told the cashier, the same one who sold me the cord, that I would like to return it.  She looked at the cord, she looked at me, she looked at my receipt, she looked back at me.  "Do you want to buy something else or do you want store credit?" she asked.  I told her, "Neither, I just want my money back."  Then she said: "But you paid with a credit card."  I said: "I know."  And she responded: "I don't know how to do that... do you?"  After a long back and forth about how she could possibly not know how to credit someones credit card, she came up with a solution: "Your friend owes us 250 shekel for her repair, we owe you 220 shekel for the cord you are returning. If your friend pays you 220 shek, we will only charge her 30 shek and then we're all even!"  As absurd as this sounded, it was the best we were going to get, so we agreed, but we would have to wait until her computer was fixed for the transaction to go down.

To make a long story short, we visited the shop two or three more times in the following week, each time leaving as we came: me with my cord, my friend without her computer and 220 shekel looming over our heads.  In the end, the computer could not be fixed, my friend would not be charged and we were back to square one.  This time I refused to leave with the cord / without my 220 shekel.  After many many phone calls (all in Arabic, so I couldn't even follow what was happening), we were still solution-less.  How hard can it be to reverse a charge?!  All of the sudden, without explanation, the technician and the cashier left me alone in the store.  When they came back, they brought the owner of the small-appliance shop next door back with them.  In a total of 30 seconds he had successfully credited my card and printed out my refunded receipt.  Why didn't they think of that before.  We're definitively not in America anymore. 

Last, but certainly not least, this week also contained my Hebrew birthday, thus officially starting "birthday season", also known as "chol ha-moed birthday" which will continue until my secular birthday in three weeks.  One of the exciting things about making aliyah and getting your teduat zehut, Israeli ID card, is that is not only contains your Gregorian calendar birthday, but also your Hebrew birthday.  Unfortunately for me, the Israeli government didn't check with me about when I was born, 8:20pm, so they converted March 21, 1984 into the 17th of Adar.  Sadly, my birthday is the 18th of Adar (the Jewish calendar day changes at sunset instead of midnight).  When I brought this up with Misrad HaKlita, the Ministry of Absorption  they told me no to worry about it, leaving me forever with an incorrect birthday on my ID.  A very special thank you to my dear husband who sang me an original birthday song (on my correct birthday) entitled: "Teudat Zehut, Tah-oot" ("ID card, Mistake" - it rhymes better in Hebrew).  I think this will become a new tradition.

Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend,

Stef and Matt