Lag BaBuchman

I know this post is a little overdue, but what can I say, I'm a busy lady...
In one of my recent posts I described how the kids prepare for Lag BaOmer. I forgot to mention how the kids transport all their wood. Think about it, they don't drive yet! So instaed, they take the shopping carts from the supermarkets, and they put all the gathered wood in there. Ayelet's ganenet was telling me that the country loses a lot of money from this holiday because of all the "stolen" wood and shopping wagons. I asked, "Don't they return the wagons?" She said "No, they get thrown into the fires!" Theres only one word for that: pyromaniacs! Anyway, now that the chag is over, I can actually say- that if only we all prepared that intensely for Mashiach, and got as excited about it as these kids are for Lag BaOmer, he'd be here in a second. The investement of effort devoted to Lag BaOmer is realy unparalleled. And I finally got to see what comes of all of it: Bonfires. Humongous, 20 ft. bonfires!
We had plans to go to our shul medura (bonfire). Before we set out we closed all our trisim completely- as we had been warned, so that the smoke doesnt penetrate and stink up the apt. We set out and arrived at the medura site. This is how you can tell that our shul is all American: we get to the site, and everyone is just standing around. Some people start spreading out their blankets, start feeding their kids snacks etc. But there is no wood in sight! Here I am mocking the 2 week search for wood, but now I can say understand why its necessary. So finally, one mom starts taking kids with her to go scavenging for wood. Thank Gd the neighboring Israeli bonfires had pity on us and gave us some of their stash! There was about 10 other bonfires going on around us, in this big open space. Seeing what some of these people planned on putting in their bonfires what just incredulous- broken furniture, wooden cabinet doors, mattresses, and of course the shopping carts too! The fires lasted all night, but we got out of there relatively early. It was a great night, and I can certainly consider it a true chavayah!

Sof-Shavua Raguah (Relaxing Weekend)

Every Friday, on my way home from school, I hear on the radio an advertisement that says sof shavua raguah... in a singy songy tune, and I always sigh and say to myself, "If only my weekend realy was relaxing..." My weekend is a one day break from school. By the time you start to forget about school, shabbat is over, and I'm planning lessons again. But, last week I actually managed to have a relaxing weekend! The trick was to DO SOMETHING on Friday afternoon. That is, aside from preps for shabbat and Ayelet-naps. Early last week, we decided that we would go to the beach Friday afternoon. That meant that we got all of shabbat ready before. Yaakov picked me up from school and we went straight to Bat Yam, the closest beach to us. We had a fabulous time. With Israeli disco music playing in the background, Ayelet and Yaakov played in the sand and ran alongside the water, and I got to take a nap in the sun. We had fun watching how the locals were enjoying the beach too. One of the men there was particularly interesting... A chassidish looking guy in his twenties- beard, payot... ran onto the sand, stripped down to tighty-whities and ran into the water. A couple of seconds later, I see him using my beach a a mikveh! Yup, thats right. It was quite methodical, actually. After he finished undressing, dunking, and re-dressing, he ran right back out of the water, quickly put on pants and ran off, just like he came. It reminded me of the Batman movies- Batman appears out of nowhere, takes care of business, and then dissapears into thin air the same way he came.
Anyway, it was wonderful to be there, despite the naked chassid, and it really felt like a getaway. Now I know what a sof shavua raguah feels like!

City That (never) Sleeps

Yaakov and I have started thinking about communities in Israel that we're interested in checking out before we settle on Modiin. Don't get me worng, we like it here very much, but we just want to see what else is out there. I was talking to one of my dati co-workers who happens to live in Jeruslaem, in a part called Rosco (which always makes me think of chocolate syrup!), I think its next to Katamon. I was asking her, as a veteran Israeli, how she interprets Modiin, how she would categorize it, how it compares to other places where datiim live. She said she doesn't really know Modiin well enough, but there's something about it that's very unique. Aside from the fact that its brand new, that everything is clean, and white, and planned out well.... thats not what necessarily makes it unique. After all, there are many new areas that are going up all the time... Whats unique about it is that its an almost unnatural place. Its Never-Never-land. No one is old here. no one. Not one cane, or waker, or Philipino aid. This is a city of youth. Its also not a busy city. Here, you have a city, but its quiet. Why? Because, she explained, its an "Ir Shayna"- city of sleep, (not to be confused with "Ir Shmayna"- city of fat). Ir Shayna means that people leave Modiin during the day, they travel to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem for work, and then they come home to ... sleep. Regardless of the point that she was trying to make- that it will take time for Modiin to become a normal society- I just couldn't get over the fact that here I was thinking that I was moving to the closest thing to suburban New York. But in truth, I had gone from the City that Never Sleeps to the City that Sleeps. How did that happen??!!

Its coming

It all started about a week ago. I was at the park with Ayelet at about 5 PM. Out of nowhere, I see a group of 5 or 6 teenage boys shlepping wooden beams. I was tempted to yell at them, they had clearly stolen them from the construction site across the street. But I held my tongue and figured, why start, let someone else yell at them... then a couple days later I saw kids hanging out at the construction site. Rolling over stones, climbing on the mountains of dirt. I was actually begining to see this almost daily. I was a little suspicious, and again, tempted to speak up, but I just minded my own business and continued on my way. Finally last week, on Friday, the principal was making some school-wide anouncements, as she does every Friday. One of her announcements said essentially the following: "Remember to be careful not to get hurt by splinters or nails when collecting branches and wooden beams for Lag Ba'Omer..." A light bulb went off in my head! So thats why the kids are now all of a sudden hanging out at construction sites! They're on the prowl for wood... and everyone knows that wood doesn't come easy in Israel. This was such a new phenomenon to me! --that kids of all ages, from the day after Yom Haatzmaut until Lag Ba'Omer turn into hunters and foragers! I couldn't help but wonder if their parents knew where they were, or whether they supported these actions. Here's the answer: Monday night I was walking home at 10PM from a lecture I had attended. I get nervous walking the streets alone at that hour, but it was literally down the block, so I assured myself. I was already halfway home and I saw a white car driving very slowly up my block, on the side of the construction site. At first I thought, maybe its an Arab driver, coming to take home the Arab workers (they do stay pretty late, and sometimes sleep over!). This made me nervous, so I studied the car a little more closely. I saw that next to the car, on the side of the construction site was a young girl, walking at the same speed of the car. Guess what she was doing? Thats right! looking for wood, at 10 PM at night, with her father, on a construction site! So the answer to my question is YES!

Yom Haatzmaut, Israeli style

We've had a busy week here first commemorations, then celebrations. For Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron, it was a lot of blue and white uniforms. A lot of sirens. A lot of somber testimonies. A lot of sad songs (I think Israel specializes in sad songs. They love to make you cry. They wait all year just to cram all those sad sad songs into 2 days..). But theres always that light at the end of the tunnel. In this case, it was Yom Ha'atzmaut. A lot of flags, a lot of BBQs, a lot of fun, and no blue and white uniforms- but I'll get back to that later... Everyone keeps asking, how was it to celebrate your first Yom Haatzmaut as an olah? Well, to be honest, I was thinking to myself that this is the first year I actually don't have to celebrate Yom Haatzmaut. I mean, now that I live here... I have nothing left to prove. I always used to feel a huge responsibility to go to the shul or school programs, and surely to the Israeli Day Parade, and always to march no less. Sure, all these things were fun and nice and interesting, but year after year its the same old, same old. Nevertheless, someone like me never let herself miss any Israel related event. Never ever, period. I always felt obligated to demonstrate my love and support of Israel in public. Finally, I live here, and its the one time I don't need to do it. Its just assumed. So it took a bit more effort to get me off my couch on my one free night of the month, but it happened. I went out with a friend to all the local mesibot (parties), saw some beautiful fireworks over the city of Modiin, and it turned out to be a nice night. At one of these mesibot, the band was singing a new remix of the classic "Am Yisrael Chai". There were tons of people- mostly kids and some adults, singing and dancing to the music. The band leader sang, "Ani Chai, V'Am Yisrael Chai". It suddenly hit me... that me, living here, is significant. Not just personally significant, but nationally. Ani Chai- I live, I live here. This is my land, and I have a stake in it, and I'm not going anywhere. Needless to say, it was a powerful moment for me.

The next morning we went on a short hike at Sataf, and then met the Goldbergs and crew in a park near Bar Giyora. It was a wonderful day, the weather was perfect, and the Israelis were perfect. Smiley, friendly, and relaxed. I loved watching what they had brought for their barbecues- everything but the kitchen sink. Literally. We were at the Sataf hiking grounds, and though we were there to hike, many other families were there to barbecue and relax. As we stood online at the drinking fountain, (which was clearly labeled so), a woman approached the fountain to wash her pot and knives with a sponge and dishwashing soap! Well, when you barbecue once a year, I guess you have to get it right. Many people brought whole sets of tables and chairs, mattresses, tents, and hammocks. We even saw a family put up a zip line!The funny thing is though, while it was my first year celebrating Yom Haatzmaut as an Israeli, it was my first year NOT wearing blue and white on Yom Haatzmaut. For Israelis, blue and white is what you wear to a ceremony, or to a religous observance. The kids wear blue and white in school on Rosh Chodesh. Everyone wears blue and white on Yom Hazikaron. But Yom Haatzmaut is considered neither of those. Its really like July 4th. Its vacation, and no one tells you what to wear on vacation! So I come to the barbecue and I'm wearing yellow and black, Ayelet is wearing pink and white, Yaakov is wearing white and khaki. I see Zeva's whole family is wearing blue and white. So I say "Zeva, why are you wearing blue and white?" and she says, "Its Yom Haatzmaut!" and I say, "But look around you, you're the only Israeli family in this park wearing blue and white!" And I was right.

Matza and Peanut Butter

As I sit here writing this, some of you are eating a nice big bowl of Cheerios or maybe a grilled cheese sandwich, and some of you are still chowing down on some matza brei. Our religion is so weird, isn't it? This morning however, I ate none of those. I ate matza with peanut butter and jelly. Now, why on earth would I still be eating matza if I don't have to?! Maybe its becuase I wanted to know what it felt like to be able to eat kitniyot on Pesach. No, thats not it. Maybe its because I wanted to comiserate with all you chutznikim, and go for one more day. No, thats not it either. The real answer is that when the WHOLE COUNTRY plans on going shopping for chametz products motzaei chag, you want to stay as far away as possible. I mean, Israelis are unpleasant enough at Supersol even when they're NOT hungry. So I decided that I will hold off as long as possible. I figure I'll avoid the morning rush, and go out there this afternoon. I have to say though, that having one less day of forced matza makes all the difference. I'm so used to planning out that first chametz meal for hours and hours. You could go with the traditional pizza, or a bowl of your favorite cereal, or maybe just go out for some good ice cream. But honestly, I didn't feel that way here at all, which is why its 10:15 AM. and I haven't eaten chamtz yet, but whose counting?

As painful and exhausting as the pre game cleaning and cooking is, I'm begining to think that the post game is worse. I had a week off before Pesach. I cleaned and organized and bought and cooked leisurely. There was an excitement in the air. By now, I've had enough of all of that, but I can't go on eating matza and peanut butter forever. (I probably could last a while on that, but I don't think it would be very good for me). The real chametz has to come out sooner or later and that means everything else must be away. Who has energy for this? I don't think anyone does. Maybe thats why everyone forces themselves to turn over their kitchen immediately after Pesach, chik chok. If I didn't live in an apt. where the kitchen is 3 steps away from the lightest sleeper of all time, maybe I would have mustered up the energy to do it last night too. What did I do instead? Uploaded my pics! Its a good think I have a blog, or else what would I do to procrastinate right now? Back to the kitchen...

Pesach highlights

Pesach highlights, in chronological order:
1. Having the best Rabbi ever- who says you don't need to cover anything! not the stovetop, counter, or sink!
1. Walking down Emek Refaim at 5:30 erev Pesach and being able to hear a pin drop... thats how quiet it was...
2. Being at the Bittons and experiencing a "sefardi" seder. Luckily they were nice to us and didn't sneak any kitniyot into the food. Yaakov and I were mesmerized and perhaps a bit obsessed with their charoset, which uses dates instead of apples.
3. Ayelet staying up for the whole seder and singing Mah Nishtanah- hows that for a non-religous gan?!
4. Keeping 1 day of yom tov (I just had to rub it in...) the only thing I missed on the second day was that Sefardi charoset.
5. Eating out at Burgers Bar.
6. In a makolet, seeing people who don't look the least bit observant make sure the ices were "kasher l'pesach".
7. Driving an hour on the highway and along the way seeing at least 50 cars pulled over just to take a random hike somewhere.
8. Spending Shabbat in Ramat Eshkol and succeeding in looking Chardei! (minus the Banana Republic belt).
9. Taking tiyulim with my family! (That includes husband, daughter and cousins!
10. Surviving Pesach without eating one egg kichel (no such thing here!) or matza pizza (couldn't find tomato sauce without kitniot)!!!!

pre Pesach

Ahhh, Pesach. So much to say... where to begin? well, I was going to entitle this entry "Rena's revision of the 4 questions" but alas, I could only think of one. My burning question is the following: (to be read to the tune of Mah Nishtanah) "On all other days of the year, Israel is the home of Kosher food, but on Pesach, a Fridman like me can't find anything Kosher." Here is my answer: Avadim Hayinu: to remind us that we were HUNGRY HUNGRY slaves in Egypt. That doesn't explain why the Sephardim don't have to be hungry, but that's the best I came up with.

I've been warned by many many people that there is nothing for Fridmanim (see previous post) to eat on Pesach, everything has kitniyot. I was a bit skeptical and took it to be an exaggeration, how could there really be nothing for us Ashkenazim? Wasn't it enough that Herzl was one of us? But I didn't lose sleep over it, the issue was out of my hands. Deep down though I was a little nervous. That may have been why I procrastinated and refused to go Pesach shopping until this morning. Well, I went. I saw. And seeing is believing. There really is very very little to buy. But what makes the experience all the more frustrating is that its not like at the American grocery stores they have that one token aisle for Pesach stuff, and you don't even bother going down the other aisles. Here, they have that one Pesach aisle also, but all it has is matza and matza meal. You then have to comb through the entire store, pick up every single product that you are interested in buying, squint your eyes very intently, till you find a Kosher for Pesach marking. But these markings are not so simple to read-- which all makes the trip to the grocery store take double the amount of time it normally does. I have found 4 different types of Pesach related markings thus far. The first is your standard Kosher for Pesach. (When you see that one, you breathe a sigh of relief and shout "Yipee!") The second is Kosher for Pesach for eaters of kitniyot. The third is Kosher for Pesach for eaters of Liftit (canola), the fourth is roshei tevot (abbreviation) כ"לפ which also means Kosher for Pesach, but it takes an extra second, or a day in my case, to figure that out. I found it interesting how most items with kitniyot don't just say "with kitniyot", but it actually says "for eaters of kitniyot". The latter is a much more exclusive language. As if us Fridmanim aren't hurting enough, the hashagacha people have to be down-right mean about it! Anyway, I did the best I could, and we'll see how hungry we are come Wednesday!

Fridmanim, Friarim, and Dosim

Fridmanim, Friarim, and Dosim: 3 negative slang-stereotypes here in Israel. I am proud to say that I can be considered all three. Allow me to explain:
Fridmanim in plural, or Fridman in singular, is the mocking term for Ashkenazim in Israel. Its a play on the common Ashkenazic last name -"Friedman". It's not just a nickname though. It comes with specific connotations. Fridmanim are nebby. They are goody-goodys. They play it safe. They are, well... boring. Take Friday night for example. Fridmanim make chicken broth that we call "chicken soup". Sephardim make a thick and spicy lentil-meat soup. When you get engaged, Fridmanim stand around and drink Scotch while Sephardim get dressed up in these ornate costumes and paint orange tatoos on everone's hands. I think you get my point. But back to me... I think if you had to look up Fridman in the dictionary, it might just say Rena Landman. (I always was, by the way, one of those kids who believed that the word "gullible" wasn't in the dictionary). I am Miss play it safe, growing up I was always a goody goody, and now that I'm a student again, I know that nothings changed....

I additonally learned this week that Fridman men are thought to be "cold" people. You know, unfriendly, impolite. When I was told this, I had to reconcile this with my own theory until now: a man who is cold and impolite is because hi smom failed to train him properly. I never took these characteristics to be a cultural phenomenon. But these women were quite convincing, and explained that Sephardic men are just not like that. They are warm, polite, sensitive. I'll take their word for it, they probably know more Sephardic men than me. Let me see... there's Ariel Cohen, Sady Benzaquen, and Avi Bitton. I'm out. Yeah, I'd say they know more Sephardic men than me.

Anyway, Fridmanim are often Friarim too. Friarim (Friar in singular) are losers. Just plain losers. They are the people who get dumped on, taken advantage of. For example- At school, every teacher has 3 recess duties. I, the "new girl" has 4. So in fear of being known as a "Friar", I asked the vice principal (Peter Pan) what the policy is. She explained that because I assist in many classes, I can take a break during a regular class, and I can be on-duty for recess. Okay, sounds reasonable. So I'm stll a Friar, just a justifiable Friar.

This brings me to the last, Dosim. Dosim are dati Jews, pronounced "dosim", to mimic a yeshivish mispronunciation of the word datiim. The connotation here is shlumpy, sloppy people who keep weirdo laws. My English mentor, a woman in her forties, normally comes to school in jeans. The other day, she came in wearing a long shlumpy jean skirt, a big bulky sweater, and sneakers. As soon as anyone walked into the teachers' room and saw her they cried out in laughter, "What happened to you, all of a sudden you're a dosi?" She laughed too, and said that the give-away was the jean skirt with the sneakers. Now I'm sitting there in my jean skirt thinking, should I be offended here? Granted, mine was short and tailored, and I was wearing tights and shoes, but I'll be the first to admit that come summer, I might be found wearing sneakers with a jean skirt...So I asked them- "Am I a dosi?" They assured me-- no, no, you're "b'seder". That was a close one. Maybe they'll re-evaluate me in when the warm weather hits in a month. Wish me luck.

Because not all the teachers in my school grew up observant or are currently observant, there are many rumors about dosim that fly around that need to be confirmed or rejected. I am one of only a couple dosi teachers in the school who has the ability and privelage of doing so. So though its somewhat of a mocking term, at least I'm known as a reputable dosi with answers. Last week some teachers were asking whether its true if dosi brides wear wigs to their weddings. A couple of days ago, one of the teachers asked me if its true that the dosi men buy their wives a piece of jewelry before Pesach. If such a practice exists, they explained, then they were jealous. I said, Yeah, it exists, in Charedi-ville. But Charedi-ville is different than Dosi-ville. But thats for another time.

Lice: as commom as a cold

Warning: reading this entry may cause some of you to feel itchy for the rest of the day. Readers beware.

Today I was teaching my first grade class Torah, and all of a sudden, one of the girls shouts out "a louse just fell out of my hair and onto my book!! I walked over and looked down at her book, and I did indeed see a louse. It was tiny, black. About the size of a poopy seed. I took a tissue and killed it and threw it out. It caused a lot of commotion in the class, but everyone settled down and we continued to learn. While this may have been the first time something like that happened in my presence, lice here is as common as a cold. It's not just common, its also not something Israelis are at all embarrassed about. One day one of my students, who normally wears a ponytail, came in with a very beautiful braid. I said, "wow, thats beautiful, who made that for you?" she said "my mother, its because I have lice." "Wonderful," I said, as I slowly inched backwards. You hear something like that and you can't help but be paranoid the rest of the day.

Back in September, when I was just starting to get acquainted with the school and the kids and all the policies, one of my students came to me crying saying, "I have lice and it itches me. I want to call my mother." I thought that was a legitimate request. I was all ready to take her to call home, heck I thought they'd send her home, but I figured I'd check with the homeroom teacher first. She turned to the kid and yelled at her, "You know we don't deal with lice here! When you go home, tell your mother to take care of it!" While I can't say the teacher's tone was appropriate, I have since learned that that is indeed the school policy. It is against the law to send a kid home for lice here.

I was getting my haircut for the first time here, so I said to the lady who was going to cut my hair, "I'm a little scared of lice." She laughed at me and started combing and cutting etc. She said, "I haven't seen lice in years! They must have died out or something.." Just as I was begining to feel reassured, the mother sitting next to me said, "No, my kids have lice all the time, I just think its disgusting to clean it out" I responded "Thats not fair for the rest of us..." But I don't think she really cared for my opinion.

Theres a woman in our community who is a proffessional lice lady. She coined the name "Kinanit". You hire her to pick out the nits and lice, she charges by the hour. This kind of thing exists in Brooklyn, but not here. The local newspaper did a whole article about her. The day after the article came out, everyone was buzzing (no pun intended) about it at school. "Did you see?" "Did you read?" They thought it was absolutely ridiculous!

When you move to Israel, Nefesh B'Nefesh tells the olim, "Don't try to change the country; you won't succeed. Just take it as it is..." Merry Rosman told me the same thing, but she gave me permission to change the policy on lice. I will try to make her proud. Next on the list of necessary reforms: chocolate chip cookies. I've got my work cut out for me.

Disco Wedding

Last night I attended the wedding of my co-worker's daughter. He is the head of maintenance at school, (remember-- the 65 year old man who sat next to me at he Chanukah party...). He is not dati so I was preparing myself for a wild party. It was way out, in a hall near Netanya. I had volunteered to drive some co-workers because I didn't want to stay to late, and this way I could make sure I got home at a reasonable hour. Normally I would never offer to drive out of Modiin, but with our new GPS (thanks folks!) I felt I could go anywhere (though this would be my first time actually using it...). Yaakov entered in the address of the hall for me and told me which buttons to press, and I was all set. I warned my "carpool" ahead of time that I wasn't familiar with the route, and though I had the GPS, they should keep their eyes on the road to help me out. The wedding was called for 7:30 and the chupah for 9. Knowing how unlikely it would be for them to start on time, we figured we could leave Modiin at 7:30 and be there by 8:30-8:45. Deciding what to wear took some careful thought. After all when I asked the security guard if he plans on wearing something nicer than his uniform, he said, "What's the big deal, I'm not the groom!" He wasn't joking. That got me a bit nervous. Anyway, I decided to go with a low key outfit and stilleto heels. I hopped in the car and picked up my co-workers and we were on our way. Of course, the minute they got in the car they asked me how much I bought my car for and how much the GPS cost...The route was pretty simple and we continued on the highway for a while. I wasn't looking at the road signs at all, I was simply following the GPS. Apparantly my fellow passengers weren't looking at the road or the GPS. About an hour into the ride we were approaching a roadblock with soldiers and, one of my coworkers perks up and says, "Why are we entering the shtachim?!!" Oh Dear. We were entering Ariel, on the West Bank. We must have taken a wrong turn, or didn't take a right turn, and here we were, nowhere near where we needed to be! It took us a little while longer to find our way out of the mess, and back in the right direction. My car mates were very supportive and took full blame for the error, well... they questioned my GPS too, but at least none of the blame was on me! In fact, they told me what a good driver I was and how calm I had been throughout our confusing journey. We got to the wedding close to 10, after a 2 hour car ride. We missed the chupah and most of the meal, but we were just in time for... disco dancing! The bride and groom came out to flashing white lights, bubbles (yes, bubbles), and a loud, booming, floor-shaking rythem, and everyone started to boogey down. A whole group of us teachers cornered a little section in the corner of the dancefloor and stood around (me) or danced (them) to the rythem. On the dancefloor I had an opportunity to check out all the outfits. Bride- nice big poofey dress, nice hair and make up. Groom- all black suit (including shirt and tie), and slicked back hair in pony tail. Interesting. Friends of the couple- some in shirts and slacks. some in dressy outfits. mostly in jeans. As you might have guessed, I stood out like a sore thumb. And it wasn't because I didn't have cut-outs in my sleeves for my shoulders (is that a worldwide trend these days, or just here?). It was because I didn't have big fake jewelry, or big hair, or big platform shoes. My dainty stilletos and Sophie's jewelry made me look like the first lady compaired to the rest of these people. No matter. I had a good time, and we left within the hour. We got home in half the time that it took us to get there. I was home by 12 and in bed by 12:15. Not so bad considering I made it to bed around the same time as Sunday night after my midnight meeting...

Mom's visit

It was really a treat to have my mother with us last week. I have a free day so infrequently that the fact that I had a couple of days to do some errands and sip an ice coffee WITH MY MOM was really a novelty. My mother landed Sunday night and on Mon we drove to J-lem to visit my grandfather. He was very disappointed that he wan't able to feed us on Taanit Esther, but he sent us home with enough to make up for it. We raided his Pesach pots, because I'm making Pesach for the first time and he won't be cooking at all. After we loaded up the car with our million plastic bags, we headed out to the shuk. There we filled in whatever other Pesach items we needed, and of course bought some food to break the fast. When I say "some food" I really mean a ton of food. My mom in the shuk is like a kid in a candy store. We bought so much that we had to make two trips to the car. Fruit, veggies, fresh bread, fresh cheese, nuts, and of course "g'viniyot". Whats a g'viniya- you might ask. Cheese Danish. They're not so easy to come by here, but the Fruchters of Queens can't break fasts without them. Its the carrot at the end of the stick. In fact, if there is evidence that there will not be a cheese danish at the end of the fast, it just might not be worth it to finish the fast. My mom was getting a little tired and was weakening with the smell of all fresh bread and pastries, "do you want to break your fast?" she asked, looking at me for support. "Mom, hang in there," I said, "we'll find you a cheese danish for later and you'll be fine." and thats exactly what happened. Gviniya in pocket, she held out and we continued on our way. That night was Purim. We all went to shul to hear the megilla and we stayed afterwards for a carnival. They had break-fast food there. Shame we spent the whole day and a whole week's salary on break-fast food at the shuk. Oh well. We ate that food for the rest of the week-- breakfast, lunch, and dinner... There's always room for g'viniyot though, they were finished by the next morning.

Purim day was fun, we had a seudah with my grandfather's wife's family. We were an ecclectic bunch-- including charedi, granola, and normal (thats me). Ayelet had a fabulous time because 2 of my grandfather's charedi step-grandaughters were dressed as clowns. Ayelet thinks that any clown is Nachum the clown from Uncle Moishe. She followed around these 2 teenagers the whole afternoon, calling them "Nachum." There was singing and dancing and a birthday cake for Grandpa. We had a great time and headed back to Modiin with some time to relax a bit.

We were back to errands on Wednesday, and made a trip to Home Center. Home Center is supposedly the Bed Bath and Beyond of Israel. But don't get your hopes up. Its half the size, half the quality, and at least half the pace at the checkout counter. We got some things there, including yet another set of plastic drawers. I decided that you can only consider yourself a true Israeli if you have one set in each room. I'm proud to say we've reached that mark!

Whenever we have visitors come, everyone always asks, "what did they bring?" My mother brought us lots of goodies and clothing, toys and books. When my parents are here they don't buy many things to bring back. Snickers are kosher everwhere, so gone are the days where you would stuff a whole dufflebag full of those. Gone too are the days when you would buy Marzipan rugelach and bring them back... or KFC chicken. I don't want to take this personally, but it's hard not too. I mean come on- is there really NOTHING here, in my country, thats worth buying to bring back? I was pleasantly surprised then when my mother explained to me that she was on a misson to bring back some of the tiny tik gavs (knapsacks) that I described in an earlier blog for her friend's grandkids (hi Judy!). I take full credit for those purchases. Maybe I should begin to endorse more Israeli products on this blog, hmmm....

We had a great rest of the week and in short, it was just wonderful to have my mom here. We accomplished a lot together and had a good time doing it. She got the water stains off my dishrack, I got her hooked on nana tea, and now she knows how to say cheese danish in Hebrew. Could you ask for anything more?

V'nahafoch Me: Purim

Forgive me for talking about Purim even though the rest of you are probably on to Pesach already... there are just a couple things I have to get off my chest before I approach the next holiday. For most of my life, Purim seemed like an after-thought, or at best a last-minute thought. As a kid you get the costume a couple of days before and have a fun day with family and friends, and of course "trick or treating". As an adult I was either in college- which didn't really account for Purim, or in SAR, where we worked Purim day. I always dressed up in SAR as the same thing, a chinese woman, because all it required of me was to throw on this red kimono that I have (many say I look Chinese, so I didn't even need the eye-liner). Mishloach manot was whatever I could throw together, trying to look creative without investing much effort. Here I am in Israel where Purim is neither an after-thought nor a last-minute thought. Purim starts to be discussed the day after Tu B'shvat. Just as the dried fruit is being rolled out of the stores, in roll the tiny wine bottles and tiny chocolate bars. Purim costumes and accessories line the toy stores and halls of the mall. People devote coffee and lunch breaks to "What are you dressing up as?" Once Rosh Chodesh Adar rolled around, there was a note on the door of Ayelet's gan every afternoon, instructing the parents what to dress the children in the following day. This brought on a lot of undue stress! It would be 4 o' clock in the afternoon and suddenly I would have to start putting together a clown costume, or an animal costume for the next day! I too had to dress up in many different costumes through out the week prior to Purim. To put it lightly, these Israelis get very into it.

As I wrote in one of my earlier blogs, the teachers in my school decided to dress up in a theme costume- and after I made sure that all my co-workers had signed up, I too signed up to partake in the group costume of Alice in Wonderland. I signed up to be one of the playing cards because I figured I could spend the least money on that, just 2 pieces of oak tag and a marker. The school had its costume day on Sunday the day before Taanit Esther. After almost 2 weeks of wearing a different costume each day, I was relieved that this would be the last. I worked on my costume on Saturday night, the Ace of Spades. Sunday morning, I show up in school, expecting to see a whole school's worth of teachers dressed up like rabbits and cats, caterpillars and cards, but alas I am one of 4 people who actually came dressed according to the theme. All my students run over to me and ask me what I'm dressed as. That's not a good sign, I think to myself. When I explain that I'm a playing card they say 'ohhh, you're the Ace.." Only they can't pronounce the word "Ace" so it comes out sounding like an inapporpriate word. Anyway, when I realized that I was only 1 of 4 in theme costume, I felt a little in the dark-- to say the least, and when I noticed that NONE of my fellow first grade teachers came dressed in part, I was somewhat... insulted, offended. I asked one of them, who was dressed like a ladybug, "what happened, why arent you dressed according to the theme?" she answered- "eh, thats just boring". yeah, ok, boring. Like a ladybug is so much more exciting. As I listened to myself think like this, I couldn't help but notice that yet another milestone has passed- I, just like any authentic Israeli, cared about my Purim costume! who would've thought?!

As a Judaic Studies teacher, it was common to give a lesson comparing Purim to Chanukah. After living in Israel I have a couple of things to add to that list...
Chanukah is an 8 day holiday celebrated for 8 days. Purim is a one day holiday that is celebrated for 2 weeks. On Chanukah, the fresh caramel sufganiyot made you think you died and went to heaven. On Purim, the store-bought hamentashen are not even worth trying. Even the pre-packaged Angel cake is better than that, and thats not saying much. Compared to Chanukah, I found that I spent a lot more money preparing for and celebrating this ever-so-short holiday of Purim....
mishoach manot shul fundraiser: 150 shekel.
personal mishloach manot: 100 shekel.
blonde wig for myself and cowboy hat for Yaakov: 40 shekel.
Wearing a costume in the middle of March and being "normal" : Priceless.

Luxuries Miss List

The following is a list of the luxuries that I miss. I call them luxuries because... well, I can certainly live without them, though some more than others. I call them luxuries because all my readers out there (thats all 4 of you!) may not know that these items are indeed luxuries, so if you happen to have these items in your life, hold them close to your heart and cherish them deeply. I've written next to each item what it has been replaced with, read on...

Luxuries Miss List (in absolutely no particular order)

1. My Camry - replaced with very expensive Ford Focus that stalls once a week and has squeeky brakes.
2. Dunkin' Donuts drive through- replaced with standing on long lines in cafes, waiting to order the only drink out of a list of 20 that is able to be made caffeine free.
3. High Quality for Low price- replaced with low quality for high price. Its simply an injustice!
4. Relaxing Saturday nights- no replacement.
5. Sundays - replaced by Shabbat, no comparison.
6. My treadmill- replaced with miles of beautiful walking terrain, but no time to take advantage.
7. Tasti -D-lite and other low cal treats- don't you know that Israelis don't diet... there is no replacement available.
8. Having 5 channels and being able to turn on the TV and find something to watch- replaced by having 100 channels and not being able to find anything to watch.
9. A cozy warm apt. on a cold winter night- replaced by a drafy apartment that doesn't retain any amount of heat that is blown into it. (I know I know... its cool in the summer...)
10. Having hot water whenever you want it- replaced with having hot water a 1/2 hour after whenever you want it.
11. Recycling facilities- replaced by feeling guilty that I am destroying this wonderful planet of Earth because I throw my newspapers out with the rest of my trash!
12. Bobbi Brown Counter at Bloomingdale's- replaced by cheezy makeup ladies at the Super-Pharm that hound you until you explain that you just came to buy diapers.
13. The Gap- irreplacable.
14. Free shopping carts at the supermarket- replaced by needing to dig into my wallet and every pocket in order to find a 5 shekel coin. Is that really enough of a deterrant for someone who wants to steal one? Come on!

I reserve the right to add to this list...

Topsey Turvey Day

Today was "V'nahafoch Huh", or Topsey Turvey day, in preparation for Purim. As I mentioned in the previous post, I was very nervous about what to wear, and I forgot to ask the other teachers what they wear on such a day. As a new olah all I ever want to do is just FIT IN and NOT MESS UP! Needless to say, this kind of day put a lot of pressure on me. I got dressed pretty normally, aside from my bubble gum rain boots (it was raining anyway) and some of Ayelet's beaded necklaces. I figured I can always turn my clothes inside out if need be, and if not, I'm safe. I got to school this morning a couple minutes early, and I stayed in my car to scout out the scene. (I pretended I was on my cell phone, lest anyone wonder why I'm just sitting in my car). I was shocked to see that everyone entering school seemed to be dressed pretty normally- students and teachers alike! I'm used to SAR, where you can spot topsey turvey day from a mile away- really clowny outfits and silly accessories. But I was relieved by my assessment, and figured I had made a good decision this morning. Perhaps I was mistaken and it wasn't topsey turvey day after all. Once I got to school I realized that it was indeed topsey turvey day, but it was a much milder form than SAR's. The kids were wearing regular clothing, just inside out or backwards. No mismatched socks or crazy hats. So I snuck into the bathroom and turned my shirt inside out, and I was done. I figured that plus the boots and the necklace, I've really outdone myself. What's funny was that no one understaood how the boots and necklaces fit in. Here I was thinking that my boots looked silly, but everyone kept complementing me on them, and they did so very seriously...though surprisingly no one asked me how much they cost :) . The necklaces too, I got all sorts of comments, but it seemed like no one really understood that they were "lichvod" topsey turvey day. It was a fun day all in all, and most importantly, I survived!

Random briefings of the week

Lets talk about my Hebrew...its certainly been improving. In fact, this week someone thought I was Israeli for about 10 seconds, thats a new record! I was going for a jog (which consisted mostly of me walking, but its sounds much better if I say "jog"), and a car pulled up next to me and asked me for directions. In Israel, when you ask for directions, you don't say "Ayfoh Rechov Ben Yehudah?" (Where is Ben Yehudah Street?). In an effort to make the Hebrew language even more concise, you drop the "Ayfoh" and just say a street name with an inflection, i.e. "Ben Yehudah?" I therefore had no idea the woman asking was American, all she did was say a street name. I started to tell her in Hebrew what streets to take to her destination, and about 2 sentences in, she said, "Oh, you're American...we can just speak in English." While I was honestly a bit relieved, I was a little disappointed. I thought I had her fooled. But for now, even if she thought I was Israeli for 2 sentences worth, I decided that thats deserving enough to give myself a pat on the back...or a cookie when I finish my walk.
I was reminded however that my Hebrew had not improved enough in school recently. I was teaching a first grade class and one of the students, Michal, came in late. I stopped the lesson for a second to give her a hug hello and ask her if everything was ok, she said yes and went to sit in her seat. The next morning, I saw Michal's mother in school and she thanked me for hugging Michal yesturday morning when she came into class late. I wanted to say, " Ayn Ba'ayah" (No problem!), but instead what came out was, "Lo Norah" - "not so bad!" Essentially I was telling this mother that it wasn't so bad to hug her child. The mother winced, and so did I, and once again, I'm hoping she's forgotten about it by now...

This week was Rosh Chodesh Adar. We had a big "mesibah" or party in school on Rosh Chodesh. The whole school said Hallel together and then we had singing and dancing, including all the appropriate Purim songs. When I told this to my mother she asked, "Did all your students know the words?" I said "Mom, thats like asking a 7 year old American if they know the words to The Wheels on the Bus!" These kids were raised on these songs, and its so natural to them. They actually know the words and understand them. The mesibah was a lot of fun, and now everyone is getting very excited about Purim. From now until Purim, every day there is a separate theme for dressing up. One day is stripes, one day is polka dits, one day is pajamas, etc. I'm a little nervous, because the first dress up day is tomorrow, its officially topsey turvey day, but I don't know if teachers partake! I wasn't in school today and I forgot to ask 2 days ago... my gut says to dress up, oy vey! we'll see how creative I can be at 7 Am tomorrow morning.

Today I went to my courses in the Michlalah. They have a lunch room there that serves hot breakfast and lunch, as well as coffee and tea. The lady who works there told us that we don't have to pay for hot water, if we want to bring a tea bag or hot cocoa packet from home (well, she didn't say hot cocoa packet because such things don't exist here, but thanks to the Fruchter family visits, I've got enough hot cocoa packets to last me a while. ) For the past couple of weeks I've been buying a coffee there in the morning for 5 shekel and then maybe taking some hot water later for a tea or hot cocoa. This morning I decided that 5 shekel is a lot for an instant cofee, especially when I can just bring it from home. So I added to my Mary Poppins-bag-of-snacks a hot cup and some coffee grains. When I got to school I went in to the lunch room with my cup of coffee grains and filled it up with hot water, and then I walked over to the milk and sugar counter and started to lift the pitcher of milk. The man who runs the place, a tall, large Israeli man in his sixties came over to me and started yelling at me, in a very demeaning way, implying that I was stealing his milk, because I wasn't planning on paying for it. He cared so much about this milk it was as if he milked the cow himself and brought it from his kibbutz or something. He didn't quit yelling at me, and kept repeating the same thing over and over again. I got the idea, I wanted to say, but I didn't think he would have liked that very much. So I waited till he was done and then asked him how much would it cost if I just payed for some milk, and he said a half a shekel. So I forked over the coin politely, and was terrified to enter the lunchroom for the rest of the day. What did I learn from this experience, you might ask. Hmmm. Its time to get used to black coffee.

Midnight meeting: Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan ?

Last night we had one of our "midnight meetings" in school. I call them that because when you attend them, you don't get to bed before 12. Let me explain: They are mandatory in-service meetings that occur one every other week, from 8-10:30 PM. I know! Could you believe?! Its just crazy. In the beginning of the year I was all grumpy and resentful about it. Now, I realize that there is not one single person there who wants to be there, so I take comfort in the fact that we're all suffering together. Anyway, at this particular meeting we were having a workshop on classroom management, discipline, and communication. It was the fourth session so far in the series, and while the presenter is knowledgable and interesting, my brain shuts off at about 9, so by the time he gets started he only has about a half hour of my attention. Shame. Anyway, its about 10PM, and I am starting to doze, I notice that there is a piece of looseleaf paper that is being passed around. I watch and observe: every one of my colleagues stops, reads and decides whether to sign or not, and then passes it on. My curiosity is perked and I anxiously await to read the notice for myself. I'm secretly hoping that its a petition against coming to these midnight meetings, or maybe its a petition about how to handle discipline in the school...I really am very curious. Finally it gets to me and I read it. It reads the following: "Whoever wants to be part of the Alice-in Wonderland group costume for Purim, sign below". I'm taken aback by the foolishness of the notice, and diappointed that its not the petition I was hoping for. Once I get over that, I don't know what to do. I don't want to sign up impulsively for this constume thing- what if my "friends" i.e. first grade co-teachers, who hadn't gotten the notice yet, won't sign up, and instead are planning their own group costume? Then I'd be all alone with a group of rabbits and bunny holes that I didn't know... I figured I would consult with them after the meeting, and in the meantime I would just pass on the note unsigned. I was curious to see though what would happen when the note reached my Vice Principal, who was sitting just 4 or 5 seats beyond me. How would she react? Would she be upset that such a trivial note is being passed around in the middle of a lecture, would she read it disapprovingly but sign it anyway, or would she be gung ho, middle of lecture and all. Well, those who guessed the last option are correct. I studied her reaction; She read it, she chuckled, she signed, and then she passed it on! This place is crazy I thought to myself. In what other school would such a thing happen? Now, a description of the V.P. is in order. She is petite, dark skin, young to mid forties. In the begining of the year her hair was short, reddish-purple. For the first few months of school whenever I would eavesdrop on a conversation between her and another teacher, it would always be about her hair. I kid you not. She would explain that she's growing it out because she has dreams of going curly. Well, its now chin length, and she got a perm, so its frizzy, and her dreams have been fulfilled. She wears leggings to school almost every day. Either with crocs or little booties. When she wears the leggings with little booties, she really really looks like Peter Pan. Trust me! I was so surprised that she signed up for Alice in Wonderland. All this time I thought she was headed in a completely different direction!

Election day

I know you were all dying to know the end of the story with the babysitter, so here goes: It turns out she was busy, so I tried the only other number I had for a babysitter, and thankfully she was available, and it all worked out great. Yaakov and I went out for dinner and had a great time. We were so relaxed knowing that the next day we would both be off and could have a lazy morning. The next day was election day. We got a late start and then headed to the voting booths. I had been warned that the voting system in Israel is a bit archaic- and now I can officially agree with that. We went behind a booth, where there was a table with about 20 or so piles of small pieces of paper, each with a particular party's name on it. Every voter is handed an envelope, and you select the slip of paper that represents the party of your choice. You place the slip of paper in your envelope and then you place your envelope into a large blue box. All the votes are counted manually! It was fun to be a part of it, though it would have been nice to feel a little bit more passionately about who I voted for. This year in Israel it felt a lot like picking the lesser of two evils. Anyway, after that we headed off to Jerusalem to the Old City to walk around a bit and visit the kotel. It was a beautiful day and we had a great time. I hadn't made a trip like this to the kotel in 2 and a half years, so it was quite special. We then headed off to Katamon to visit my grandfather, or as Ayelet refers to him as "big Saba"(if you saw him, you'd know why). On our way home we encountered a huge thunderstorm, and hail I might add, so when we got home we all snuggled up on the couch to watch Toy Story. It was our first time enjoying a movie together as a family, and it was really fun. All in all, I must say it was the perfect day. We had a little bit of adventure, a little bit of relaxation, and a lot of nostalgia for those Sundays that we miss SO MUCH! Looking forward to the next one... in four years!

The hunt for a good babysitter

As a parent I've been very spoiled. Not just because I have an amazing little girl for a daughter... but because I've been blessed with wonderful babysitters. In Riverdale, I had the cream of the crop. Working in the junior high of a neighborhood school, I would hand pick my most favorite, most responsible students to be my babysitters. I really could trust them because I knew so much about them: their parents, their siblings, their social security numbers (okay that last one is just a lie). I had friends calling me saying, "Can you look at your class list and find me a babysitter?" It was awesome. Fast forward a couple of months and I find myself 6,000 miles away in a place called Buchman. Its a beautiful new suburban town, where the oldest kids are about 10 years old. You know what that means. Dearth of babysitters. When you find one here you don't let them go, and you most certainly don't share them with someone else (unless you're super nice or just stupid). Unfortunately for me, I haven't found one yet, and as wonderful as my daughter is, she is kind of particular about the adults she likes. While this might be asking a lot, I not only wanted to find a responsible babysitter who spoke English, I also wanted to find one that Ayelet would like. So pathetic as it may seem, we really haven't been out much at all. My parents babysat once, my brother babysat once, and my neighbor just once or twice. I decided it was time to be a little more aggressive about this because... I need to get out!

I was at the park today with Ayelet. It was a warm but cloudy day, so there weren't very many park goers at all. It was basically just us and a group of teenage girls- who were speaking English. I looked at them and thought, they can't possibly be younger than 12. Its worth a try. I approached them. I kept thinking this is crazy, who am I? What kind of mother picks up a random teenager and asks her to babysit her daughter. But I went for it anyway. I asked one of the girls her age, her grade, where she lives, parents names, does she have experience babysitting, for who, etc. The exchange went well, and best of all, Ayelet had a twinkle in her eye and immediately connected with this 8th grade girl. She gave me her number and I just left her a message a couple of minutes ago, asking if shes available tomorrow night. Tomorrow night is not just an ordinary Monday night. Its the night before the elections. Practically the whole country has off on election day. Its our only real vacation day other than religous chagim and Independance day. Simply put: tomorrow night is the equivalent of Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, except it only happens once every 4 years! I'll do whatever it takes to get a babysitter and go out!

I'm a student again!

I've decided to pursue an official teacher's licence, since I don't have one yet. The way it came about though was so... Israeli. I got a phone call about 2 weeks ago, it was a Thurs afternoon at about 5 PM, from a woman at Misrad Hachinuch (think Board of Ed), telling me about this teacher's licensing program in English specifically for new olim. It starts in February she said, so I must call the woman in charge, Orit as soon as possible. BUT, Orit is only in the office Mondays and Thursdays, so I'll have to wait till Monday to call. Surprised? No. Okay, I made it my business to call Orit on Monday. She told me to come in for an interview Thursday, so I did. I ventured out to Tel Aviv. I was so nervous, I was sweating and my heart was racing . I really wanted to get into this program. I was hoping they'd consider me qualified. I reached the building and I was invited into a office where I sat before a committee of 4 people, who in a matter of minutes, determined I was perfect for the program. Have you taught before? Yes. You speak English and Hebrew well? Yes. Do you have a teacher's licence? No. Okay, you're in. The rest of the half hour was spent explaining the program, trying to settle some techinical and logistical issues etc. One of the bigger challenges discussed was the fact that the program is twice a week, and I had only one day a week on which I wasn't working. The committee explained that I would have to convince my principal to let me have another day off in order to attend classes. This task did not seem so appealing to me, so I asked if they could call the principal right then and there and explain to her the importance of me being there twice a week. I wanted this request to come from them. One of the committee members responded "It wouldn't be professional if we'd call her now, we'll write her a letter and you'll give it to her. " Okay I figured, I understand. I expected to get a type-written letter on official letterhead, you know, something "professional" looking. Instead, the director of the program wrote a scribbly note on a piece of paper from his notepad, and put in a sealed envelope. Sure, I thought to myself, this is much more professional than a phone call...

After all was settled, they told me the program starts Tues, in Cholon. and that there a number of people attending from Modiin. "How do I get there, can I have directions?" I asked. "Call one of the other girls from Modiin, they'll tell you," and I was handed another scribbly note with a couple of phone numbers on it.

Thankfully all went well with my principal, scribbly note and all. By Sunday afternoon, I knew I would be attending school on Tues. I called "one of the girls from Modiin" and we decided to car pool, which worked out well. She and the another 2 Anglo women became my instant buddies. My first day of school was interesting, in a taking-it-all-in kind of way...I thought I would be one of a room full of Anglo olim just like me. You know, from Efrat, or Ramat Beit Shemesh... from New York or London...It turned out that only half of us were Anglos and the others... Russians. Yup, the tall, skinny, blonde type. Heres the weird thing- why do all Russian women have blonde hair and all Russian men have black hair? This will be very interesting, I thought. Are they going to learn how to speak English before we start this program? Then I yelled at myself for being so judgemental. I mean, here I am, an American, teaching first-grade-Israelis Hebrew. Shame on me. It turns out that during our lunch break I was sitting around with some of the people from the program and one of the other Americans thought I was Russian! I mean I've been told I look Chinese, Vietnamese, even Hawaiian, but Russian- never! I am the farthest thing from tall, skinny, and blonde. I was actually thinking to myself that this person doesn't look Jewish at all, but I didn't go there...


Also interesting is the makeup of the school altogether. Its a michlala datit, where religous women go to get their teacher's licenses. Everyone was young, like 19 or 20, wearing skirts, and lots of them were covering their hair and pregnant. So I finally got my Stern experience after all.

The day wasn't so bad. On a scale from 1-10, I think it was a 5. The month of February is devoted to workshops, and the real courses start in March. We spent about 6 hours there, in a workshop about introducing art into all areas of learning. I think what I learned could've been learned in about a quarter of the time, but thats okay. The presenter was really smart and experienced, but it was initially hard to take her seriously given her choice of wardrobe. I just kept thinking: My mother presents at these kinds of workshops all the time. This woman's outfit is so far-fetched that it would qualify as a Purim costume for my mom. A long summer dress, hot pink socks, light blue patent leather Mary Janes, etc. But in the end, I did gain from the experience and became optimistic about the program.

Getting attuned to the radio

Living in Buchman, where I'm pretty much surrounded by Anglos, I often forget that I'm living in Israel for extended periods of time. Until...I get in my car and turn on the radio. The radio is my wake-up call that I am here. Not just because its in Hebrew, though. Its because the taste in music is just plain old bad: every Hebrew song is sad and dreary and every English song is either a really old Beatles song, or a random one-hit-wonder like "mmm bop" by the Hanson brothers. Its because the DJ, a woman with a sultry voice, never lets people finish their sentences when she interviews them on-air. Its becauise they cut off the songs at the begining and end by just a few seconds- but enough to totally ruin a listening experience. Its because the traffic reports every hour of every day don't change: the road from J-lem to Tel Aviv is ALWAYS backed up, and by the way, theres no other way to go, so why bother reporting it altogether? When I get tired of listening to the music station, I flip to the news station, hoping at least I'll improve my Hebrew and learn about the world. I unfailingly have to turn up the volume to make out what this mumbler of a reporter is saying. Ok, maybe he's not mumbling after all, I just don't understand a word he's saying, which again reminds me that I'm in Israel.

Learning the Lingo

It turns out that learning the lingo really is as hard as it seems. Yaakov and I are at an advantage having come to Israel with pretty good Hebrew, but we still have plenty to learn. It took a couple of weeks to understand what the cashiers were asking us every time we handed them a credit card, "tashlumim?" they would ask. We politely declined every time and as soon as we would leave the store we would turn to each other and ask, "whats tashlumim?" I don't know about you, but the last time I heard the word tashlumim was in Midreshet Lindenbaum, when we learned the Halachah about which prayers could be said at a later time if you missed it the first time around. Something was telling me that this was not what the Russian cashier at Supersol was referring to. Anyway, we finally learned that tashlumim means installments, because apparantly Israelis pay for absolutely everything in installments...

It was Meet the Parents Night, back in September, and one of th eparents of my class asked where I live, and I answered, and she explained that she also lives in Buchman. She proceeded to ask me what street, what building etc. Then she asked me if we were "merutzim". I didn't recognize the word, so I figured I'd use my survivial skills- quickly dissect the word, find the root and go from there. The problem was that the root of the word means want or desire. In the passive tense, which was the word she used, means "wanted or desirable". Was this lady asking me if I was wanted or desirable in my building? If my landlord liked us? How rude! In the half a second that it took me to think those thoughts, which in the end only paralyzed me, I figured I'd just be honest and say, "huh?" She explained, that merutzim means happy or content. The innocent woman just wanted to know if I was happpy in her neighborhood. Good thing I fought my initial instincts to bite her head off. That could've been really awkward...

Surprsingly I've had very few mess-ups at school in general, but this one was pretty embarassing: I was on recess duty when one of my students came to me saying she wasn't feeling well. She looked okay to me, so I told her to get a drink. Now, the word for water fountain is "beerzeyah". My intention was to direct her to the water fountain, but instead I told her to go get a drink from the duck-"barvaz". I think she's forgotten about it since, but I don't think I ever will...

I pulled up to the gas station and one of the gas girls (oh yeah, the people who work at the gas
stations are not creepy uneducated men. They're pleasant, young girls. really weird..) Anyway, she asked me if I "hidlakt"- which I interpreted as "have you lit the fire?". In a panic I said yes. Don't ask me why. I honestly had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. So I stayed there and waited for someone to fill my car with gas. She came over to me after and said, "you said that you hidlakt already!" I then learned a new word - l'heedalek-which happens to sounds an awful lot like l'hadleek, means to get gas.

In school I speak Hebrew all day, and sometimes I'll rack my brains for the right word, and then the other person will blurt it out before me- only its an English word that been Hebraisized!! Here's a couple of examples: concept, legitimacy, optmisitic...But the most confusing ones are the English words that are misused! Velcro is called "Scotch", "Tape" means a tape recorder, and Scotch tape is called "Niyar Devek". A stapler is a Shadchan, not to be confused with a matchmaker. And a marker is a Tush. It took me a couple of days to control myself from bursting into laughter everytime a kid would say "I lost my Tush". But I'm over it now. I think.

No shame

Cultural observation: Israelis have no shame asking how much you bought a certain item for. In the U.S. that is outright tactless, and could even be considered offensive. But here, its almost expected that when you get a complement on something, the price will be asked. My first observation of this phenomenon was when a co-worker of mine walked in with new boots. Everyone kept walking over to her, complementing her on her boots, and then asking, "kamah hayu?!" (how much were they?!) Because its so accepted to divulge how much you paid, its also very common to volunteer the information even before being asked. One of my co-workers booked a very last minute trip to Europe for Chanukah break. I said, it must have been expensive being that you booked so late... she said "No, it was 4,000 shekel." Okay, by now I'm getting the hang of this... its actually a little freeing.
Yesturday I went to the mall, and for the first time in 5 months, I looked for something to buy myself. Novel idea. I found a really nice pair of boots. Thats an understatement. I'm pretty picky and I have to say these boots were perfect. They were 399 shekel. I didn't hesitate to buy them, and the whole trying on and purchasing process went pretty quickly. Only after I left the store did I slow down and think: when I wear them tomorrow, and when people ask me how much I paid, should I say 399, or 400 hmmm... something to think about. Now you're all wondering what happened today in school- do you really have to ask?

Chanukah oh Chanukah

Chanukah was a lot of fun. I had off from the school the whole week. The country took on a festive feel, though there was no snow... in fact there were barely any winter coats. i took advantage of my free time to relax a bit and get some errands done. We also went on some day trips. The Modiin Ministry of Absorbtion organizes trips for olim every now and then, and we decided to go on one of them- it was to a place called Kibbutz Gezer. Though the trip ended up being nothing to write home about, my registration for the trip was quite noteworthy. The morning before the trip we called the Ministry of Absorbtion and asked if we could still join the trip. They said there was still room, but we needed to bring over a check that same day. So I headed over there, and took care of the trip registration. Before turning to leave, I asked a completely unrelated question to the clerk- whether the government would pay my tuition if I was to pursue a Teaching Degree. After all, all the rights and benefits of new olim is under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Absorbtion, so if anyone could answer my question, they could. She gave me the number of someone else (of course) who could help me (meanwhile that someone hasn't returned any of my phone calls), and she proceeded to ask me about other degrees and certificates that I have already. She explained that if I plan on pursuing another degree I may need to get my degrees and transcripts translated and notarized. I sighed (more errands, more expenses...). Obviously she sensed my frustration and said, "weren't you told that we would take care of that for you?" I said "no." She said, "you mean your liason didn't tell you that?" I said "no." and then I thought to myself- I don't want to get anyone in trouble here, I mean I actually like my liason... So I quickly corrected myself and said, "well, it could be that she told my husband, and that he didn't tell me." She then said, "what, you dont speak to your husband... your'e divorced?" Whoa!!! Where was this coming from? Of course, I took this quite personally, her implying that the level of communication between me and Yaakov was equivalent to that of a divorced couple. So I answered shortly, "no, it could just be that he forgot to tell me." Then I decided to elaborate, "you know that making aliyah is a bit overwhelming and sometimes we tell each other 99 things a day instead of 100" to which she said, "oh, so you have many children?" Again! Where is this coming from?! According to this woman, if you're overwhelmed by your aliyah, you must either be divorced or a mother of many children. You would think the Ministry of Absorbtion would hire some more sensitive individuals! As the tears started welling up in my eyes, I said, "why are you yelling at me, no I'm not divorced, and I only have one child, but there is still alot to take care of and a lot to adjust to!" The tears must have worked because she turned a bit softer and said she's here to help with whatever I need. Whatever.