December: Tests and Nice People

Hello dear readers,

It is now mid-December and a coolness has settled over the land. To be honest, it feels more like Autumn to me, but I guess I come from a much colder climate.

I have been doing well overall, thank G-d. I've been feeling quite tested lately--mentally, physically, in all areas really. Perhaps it is because I was an unschooler for my formative years, but I still have not grown accustomed to graded examination of any sort. There is something quite unpleasant about another person being granted the judgment of how adequate I perform a task. There is something subjective and downright unfair about the whole operation. In any case, I detest examinations by anyone except myself, performed on myself. Self-testing I accept because I recall learning in a course entitled "Thinking" that testing is an effective way of learning. Testing--but nothing about grades. Just the act of recall aids in the encoding process. One of the exams I had to take was earlier this week. It was yet another theoretical exam (this time just on phlebotomy) in Hebrew. I made enough of a fit that I received help in English. I had wanted to write a blog post chronicling all deceptions and outright lies I was told about it, but I have decided I lack the energy to write about it. I am just relived that exam is over, and all I have left for phlebotomy is a practical exam this upcoming week.

I have digressed and lectured you all long enough on my enmity of testing. Let us discuss what else is new in my life. I have been working in the hospital, and really enjoying it. I work with an excellent team of doctors, nurses, CNAs, social worker, and secretary. They are all so kind and understanding. They know I struggle with Hebrew, but they also know I am an extremely hard worker. Once, one of the doctors approached me and asked if I could call a different hospital to make inquiries about radiation treatment for a patient of ours. He explained to me what to do, but tacked on that if I found it too hard to do on the phone it was alright, he could do it when he finished rounds! His consideration astounded me. I, of course, wanted to try, so set out to the secretary's office. I told her I wanted to try to phone the hospital on my own, but would she mind if I did it in her office just in case I ran into any trouble or misunderstanding? She complied, and I made the phone call. Thank G-d the woman who answered was patient and understandable. I got the information I needed and passed it on to the doctor. Every component of the above tale testifies to the sheer amiability of the staff I work with!

And it is in this condition I find myself enjoying work, despite it being in a hard ward. I disfavor working in Internal Medicine, as I find it very sad. I had never fully realized just how ill people can be. Sometimes we have patients with such an extensive list of ailments, it takes several minutes before we reach the current complaint. Death is also a part of daily life for me. It's very difficult and painful for me. I intend to pen a poem on the very topic, and perhaps when I do I will share it. Suffice it so say that the sound of grief is no stranger to me now, and that is not something to be proud of at all.

Well, there is always more I could tell. I could describe the less pleasant encounters I have at work, they are almost exclusively Hebrew related. But, let us just dwell on the positive for a while. I will just be grateful in this moment to G-d, my family, and friends that I am doing alright today, well over a year after Aliyah.

  לי בארץ אני מרגישה 'ה כמאת כל יום. יש המון דברים קשים לעשות ולעבור ותמיד הם לא בשפה או תרבות שלי. מה אני עושה? עובדת כל כך קשה ומתפללת ומדברת איתו. הכל יהיה בסדר

Translation: For me, in Israel I feel G-d nearly every day. There are lots of hard things to do and overcome and always they are not in my language or culture. What do I do? I work really hard and I pray, and I talk with Him. Everything will be okay.

I remain yours etc,
Shira

The Pit and the Weasel

Dear Readers,

Hello! All is well here, thank G-d. 

I’ve been out of comission for two days due to a stomach bug but hope to return to normal life tomorrow. Being ill in an empty apartment on one’s birthday is not the most pleasurable experience, but at least this blog post is finally all finished! :)

Anyways, I would really like to share this very happy experience that happened to me a couple of weeks ago. The story has a few parts, but ties together in a serendipitous fashion that I find extremely pleasing. :)

• Part one: About a month ago two dear friends of mine came up to visit for Shabbat (Sabbath). These friends are girls I had learned at Midrasha (Seminary) with and so obviously over Shabbat religious topics arose and one of my friends was asked to give a Dvar Torah (Torah thought/idea). She related to my family that she was learning Tractate Tannit and there was a really interesting story she had learned that goes like this: a man happens upon a woman stuck in a pit and he tells the woman that he will only rescue her if she agrees to marry him. The woman promptly accedes. After rescuing her they share details, and the whole issue is settled. The man looks around and sees a wesel nearby. He tells her that both the pit he rescued her from and the weasel will serve as their witnesses for the agreement. They then part ways. The woman waits and waits, but the man never comes to call on her and marry. Meanwhile the man had married a different woman and had two sons, completely forgetting his agreement with the woman from the pit. His first son dies from a weasel attack and shortly afterward the second one falls into a pit and dies. The man’s wife tells him these are strange ways to die and asks him if he ever did something that would cause such unusual punishment. The man suddenly remembers the pit, woman, and his agreement. His wife tells him to divorce her and go make it right. He gives her a get (religious bill of divorce), and marries the other woman. The story ends there, and that was what our friend shared with us that Shabbat.

• Part two: Two weeks ago my mom invited me to her book club meeting because they were having a special guest speaker, Jeffrey Saks. The book for the month was a short story called "Tehila" by Shai Agnon, available in both its original Hebrew as well as translated into English. I printed out the short story and read it on my bus ride home that week (the book club was on a Thursday night). I didn’t actually make it through the whole story, but I read as much as I could on the buses and trains I took to get home (when you live in the North but work in the Center getting home always takes hours and many modes of transportation). Once I got home, my mom served me copious amounts of pizza and then ushered me to the Yishuv (settlement/community) library where the talk was being held.

• Part three: Earlier that same  week I saw on my facebook feed that the same friend from Midrasha was having a Siyum (completion ceremony) for Tractate Taanit scheduled for Thursday night in Jerusalem. I debated heavily about going to it, but in the end decided to go home since it takes me so long to get there and I really wanted to be home. I hoped many people would attend in person to celebrate with her, but I would have to celebrate from afar.

• Part four: At the talk many layers of the story were brought out. Jeffrey Saks is an expert on Shai Agnon and a superb translator. He had even prepared a source sheet that we loosely followed. We discussed historical events concerning Shai Agnon, biography, his talents, etc. Finally we came to a source from Masechet Taanit. The speaker began by saying that few had heard of or learned this uncommen piece of Gemara, but that it tied in nicely with Tehila. He began to tell a story...the story of the pit and the weasel! I was in shock. As he methodically made his way through the short story I felt a grin spreading across my face like wildfire. I snuck a glance around the room and nobody else seemed to be having my reaction. I whispered to my mother that I knew the story! I knew the obscure story! I was so excited, my blood was pulsing through my veins, I felt my cheeks warming and I was beginning to bounce in my seat. I could hardly contain myself! The parallel was drawn between the part in the story where the “coincidences” were simply not adding up in the sad life of the protagonist Tehila and the death of her two sons. Although it is a rather unfortunate story and parallel, I was utterly elated that I recognized a random piece of Gemara that is not so well known, and that this happened on the day of my friend’s siyum!. Afterwards I immediately phoned my friend, and excitedly told her what had happened, and all on the night of her Siyum. I felt very connected. I felt like I had truly celebrated with her, and I felt the lifeline of Torah being spread, just like blood in the body, as it passed from one to another.

Well dears, that's a happy event that transpired. I hope you enjoyed this little tale. I hope you are all doing well wherever you find yourselves. Don’t forget, the sky's the limit! (Except when it isn’t, but more on that another time…)

I remain yours etc,,

Shira

Hebrew is from google translate because on my laptop. Dreadfully sorry.

היום הייתי חולהולא היה לי זמן לחשוב על הרבה דברים . התחלתי לחשוב על אם השמים באמת הוא הגבול . זה ממש קשה לפעמים כאשר הסיכויים מרגישים שנערמו נגדנו ,ואני עדיין לא בטוח מה הוא הגבול ... עוד על כך בפעם אחרת.

Translation: today I was sick and I had time to think about a lot of things. I started thinking about if the sky really is the limit. It's really hard sometimes when the odds feel stacked against us, and I'm still not sure what's the limit... more on this another time

P.S. I realize that often I have begun to use blood references and discuss things in terms of veins and blood flow etc. I hope this has not offended anybody, it is simply due to the fact that part of my job every day is drawing blood and since I am still a beginner I am still getting used to it and thus it is on my mind a lot. On a comical note, veins are all I seem to notice about people these days: strangers on the bus, friends, family, cute boys, everyone! It’s all just veins veins veins!

On Getting Lost and the Question "Where are You From?"

Hello Readers,

In typical Shira fashion I haven’t posted in over two months. It is now fall, although I really don’t feel it when I step outside. During the daytime summer lingers and at night winter is hinted at. I know, however, that in another week or so it will be winter already. I’m enjoying the use of a light jacket while I can.

What have I been up to these past months? I started Sherut Leumi (National Service) on september 1st and I’ve been very busy with that. I spent the first three days at the hospital I will work at, and since then I’ve been attending a course at a different hospital. The course is all in Hebrew, and I miss large chunks of information, but aside from that everything is dandy.

I have great flatmates (two are American as well!) and am already making some good friends. I call them children or babies because most of the people I interact with are eighteen. At least one of my flatmates is twenty though, and she and I jest at the expense of the youngsters at every chance we get! :D

A quick narrative I can share is the time I got lost my second week. During my my first week I had gone out to pizza with two of my flatmates. We had heard there was a mall near our apartment so we set out to find it with our GPS (Waze). We soon found out we were not good at navigating Waze when on foot so asked for directions from some passerby. They were very kind, and happened to be heading to that mall or very close by so offered to walk us the whole way. We followed them, and managed to find an affordable and delicious pizza joint. As the time neared to leave, my flatmates started looking around worriedly and expressing concern on how we would return. As it began to get dark they fretted about how they had no idea how to get back and what would become of us. I asked them why they hadn’t thought to pay attention to where we were going so we could get back on the way there, and they returned that they had been thinking about pizza and the mall. I had paid attention to the way and led us back without incident, the whole time mulling over their immaturity and, fine I’ll admit I had the thought--idiocy.

The next week I began my course. I had expected a terrible first day and was surprised by how tolerable it was and how kind the staff were to me. I got on the bus at the end of the day with a friend of mine who lived in the city right next to my apartment and didn’t think anything of it. During the bus ride my friend mentioned she’d be getting of before me, but I assumed the bus went to the central bus station which is a short walk from my apartment. Soon after she got off, I realized I wasn’t recognizing the roads and asked a fellow passenger if it went where I wanted it to go. I was directed to the driver who told me no, I had to go the opposite direction. I descended from the bus, crossed the street to a bus stop and promptly began freaking out. In my cocky self-assurance I hadn’t thought I would need my phone battery so had just about used it all up on the bus rides. I shot a text at my mother’s second cousin who lived in the area and then tried to conserve the small amount of battery I had left in the meantime. I tried to ask people around, but everyone was on their phone. I started to cry. Then I asked a bus driver of a bus that stopped at the bus stop and he told me to take bus #2 and explained to me where the bus stop was for that line. His explination sounded like this to me: “go to kbdhljhdwdndlkwe and then kdhsosme after you ahdjfjkkf and fkfjhwellponbcklks.” Suffice it to say it wasn’t so helpful. At this point I was starving, and my water was out. I finally got the guts up to ask a woman who explained it clearly to me and made sure I understood. As the bus stop came into view my mom’s second cousin called me and I told her hurriedly that my phone was dying and I thought I had managed. After I hung up my phone really did die, and I had to wait in mystery for the bus to come, since I couldn’t check where it was or what time it was at on my phone. For all I knew it didn’t run at that time of day! Again, I was starving, thirsty, and exhausted. The bus did come, and the driver was kind and told me when to get off. I made it back to my apartment, a starving tear-stained mess and after some tuna and a shower I surfaced with a little more compassion for my “immature” flatmates and basically felt like a failure at life. I’m much more careful now, though. Well, I try to be. I still managed to lose a bag of all my notes on a bus later that week...I guess I’m talented.

Gee whiz that was not very “short” at all. Ah well, on another note, this last Shabbat I spent Shabbat in Kiriyat Shemona, a city further north. I spent it with nine girls from my shevet, and it was also all in Hebrew (there was one other English speaker there, thank G-d. Thus she was able to smooth over and small issues and prevent catastrophic misunderstandings). When I stepped into the car with my friends to drive up one of them turned and said, in Hebrew of course, “wow Shira, a shabbat all in Hebrew. Yay for you!” I turned to her and bestowed one of my sourest looks. I responded that I preferred to think of it as a Shabbat with friends, not one in Hebrew.

I will note that it was a very enjoyable Shabbat. I didn’t cry once (a major accomplishment). I managed to feel somewhat at ease and savor a weekend in pajamas and tasty food. I definitely could not have done that a year ago. With all of that said, I still didn’t understand much of went on, and the girls made plenty of exceptions for me during games we played. It’s difficult to explain precisely, but more than simply the frustration of not understanding the physical words spoken, it’s the feeling of being secondary (not competent, subpar) in its entirety that I dislike. I detest always having to ask for help, being the one who everyone has to make allowances for. I am irritated that I cannot do things on my own, and unaccustomed to asking for help with simple tasks or concepts. I am habituated to giving aid, and being the one approached for help, not the other way around. I can’t express how depressing it is to sit in circle of friends, understand the topic of conversation, have meaningful ideas to add, but not being able to. I often feel constricted, choked, stifled, and bound. There are so many ideas and words spinning in my head and yet they will never be said.

I still liked it and had fun. I really adore the friends I have made here, and perhaps even more so because I had to work a little bit harder to earn their friendship due to the language barrier. Also, before I close this post, I just want to mention and share an awesome TED talk I watched recently. The woman talks about the idea of where people are “local” as opposed to where they are “from”. As a Hybrid and a new immigrant I really related to much of what she said as well as appreciated her eloquence and vocabulary. I won’t spoil it by sharing more of my thoughts until after you have all watched it. I will quote one thing she said during the talk that really struck me: “When somebody asks ‘where are you from?’ or ‘where are you really from’ they are actually asking ‘why are you here?’”

https://www.ted.com/talks/taiye_selasi_don_t_ask_where_i_m_from_ask_where_i_m_a_local

Thanks for reading and feel free to comment!

Yours etc,

Shira

P.S No Hebrew this time and not edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity. Both of these calamities are due to the hour (nearing two in the morning) but I dare say if I don’t post right now it may never happen.

The Darker Side of being a Hybrid

Dear Readers,

It is mid-July and shamefully hot on this side of the planet. The days are long, the nights are cool, and the afternoons are nightmarish. Napping is an excellent use of one’s time, and all physical activities and chores are to be postponed until the nighttime. With all of that grumbling out of the way, it’s also sensationally beautiful every day, the sunshine is sanguine every day, the wildlife is diverse and scampering about in the open, and being on vacation is always so refreshing.

Being on vacation gives one a lot of time to think though, and this writer’s thoughts are all jumbled up. I used to think part of moving was reinventing myself, and it was very valuable to create the new and improved Shira. And while I understand moving presents one with the opportunity for growth and expansion, I also am beginning to comprehend that there is something to hoarding the old aspects of myself and to gaurding the pieces of Shira that just may be more essential than I thought.

There is something comforting about using the same dish I used when I lived in America. It is soothing to see the same pictures on the wall, and reassuring to be staring at the same computer monitor. When I first arrived in my new home I thought I wanted, or rather needed, everything to be new and fresh. but hindsight has taught me that perhaps it’s wise to

hang onto the old as well. I suppose in the beginning it was too painful to see all the mementos and too hurtful to act as I used to. But after nearly a year, it now feels good when I use the objects I used in my old house. It is pleasant when I do the same activities I did there.

Sometimes I get this dark feeling inside of me. It’s not really “homesickness” because I have it while sitting in my home here, but I’ll call it that because it is the closest feeling I can think of. It’s also a little bit similar to homelessness. I reminisce a lot about the places I used to go, the streets I knew like the back of my hand, the supermarkets I could navigate with ease and finesse. I recollect the friendships I nurtured and tended, the buildings I called my second home, and the people  and experiences that shaped and moulded the person I am today. And frankly, I miss them.

Last post I wrote about being a hybrid, focusing on the positive aspects. All those lovely facets exist of course. but they are accompanied by feelings of loneliness, peculiarity, singularity, and the overwhelming feeling of not belonging. I grew up very unique, so I’m used to not fitting in. I was homeschooled and that’s considered strange in mainstream society. I am an orthodox Jew, and grew up being one of the few such individuals in a 100mi radius. The list is extensive of all the things that are uncommon about me and my upbringing. Now, however, I’ve begun to realize that language and culture can be added to the tally. I always had an accent, and I still have one here (if anything I finally sound more American here than I did in America! Go figure). I often used a vocabulary more suitable for books than conversation and I find myself doing that here as well.

One affair that I find particularly vexing is when English words have different usage and meaning here. Sometimes when I say one of the words listed below I get looked at like I’m a martian. I am annoyed because I’m not being ridiculous at all, if I said any of those things in my hometown nobody would bat an eyelash. Really they wouldn’t!

Consider the following brief catalogue:

Word	American meaning	Israeli meaning
Coke	Coca Cola beverage	The Drug. Must say “Cola” if want to drink Coke.
Ice Coffee	Coffee made with milk and ice instead of hot water	A blended iced drink of coffee. Cold coffee is what I have to order for ice coffee.
Tights	What we wear under fancy skirts	Leggings. What the heck?!?!

I always mix up words here, and sometimes I get discouraged and frustrated. I am very gung ho about learning Hebrew and improving my vocabulary, but when I get corrected for the seventh time in two minutes I feel like I’ve had enough. I love to read, and I realize how important it is to read books in Hebrew for language development, but when I have to check with my dictionary for more than 70% of the words on the page I get dispirited. People are always correcting my spelling when I send text messages so I started leaving voice notes instead, but apparently I still pronounce words wrong and it is daunting to hear “what word are you asking about? I’ve never heard that in my life!” The old me would only get that response because I used a word of too high a caliber to be understood by my conversation partner, not because I was botching up a word so badly even Dr. Suess would have trouble understanding me.

I keep going all the time, and I’m up for the adventure. The more I spend time with people here, the more different I realize I am. I had theorized that my idiosyncrasies were because I was Israeli, but now living amongst the Israelis I posit that no, that is just me. I’m learning an awful lot about myself. When people ask me about getting married, I’m really hesitant because I only feel like a shell of myself here. So much of my identity is tangled with immigration still, that I would feel like whoever I dated was just in a relationship with a husk of Shira.

Well, that’s the musings for today. A little bit of nostalgia, a drop of complaining, and a pinch of self discovery. Enjoy the rest of your day or night wherever you are!

הייתי בטיול עם חברות שלי מישוב לפני כמה ימים. היה ממש כיף אפילו שרק הבנתי 60% ממה קרה :) שחינו ואחר כך אכלנו פיצה שהיתה טעימה לגמרי (עם תוספות!)  בנוף מאוד יפה על יד הכנרת. הרגשתי שסוף סוף יש לי כמה חברים בארץ אבל באותו זמן התגעגעתי לחברים שלי בחו"ל. אני חושבת עליהם הרבה ואני זוכרת ימים יפים שהייתי איתם לדוגמה כשהיינו שתינו קפה ביחד או טיילנו. אני עדיין אוהבת אתכם!

Translation: I went on a trip with my friends from the community a while ago. It was really fun even though I only understood 60% of what went on. :) We swam and afterwards ate really delicious pizza (with toppings!) on a beautiful lookout by the Kinneret (sea of Galilee).I felt that finally I have friends in Israel, but at the same time I missed my friends that live around the rest of the world. I think about them often and I remember great days that I was with them, for example drinking coffee together or going on hikes. I still love you guys!

Yours etc, 
Shira

Initial Musings on Being a Hybrid

Hello friends,

I think a quick life update is in order. It is the end of June and I am off for the summer. :)

I completed my time at Midrasha (Seminary) and learned a lot while there. I spent about three or four months there, and I had so many experiences! I lived away from home for the first time (with just one sister, so I think it really ought to count as on my own). I lived on the campus of the school in a dorm. It was fascinating to live with people who weren't my family members. I learned a lot about myself, and how much I am like my parents. I understand this is a very common phenomenon when young adults leave the nest. I also learned that I really am an Israeli-American hybrid, and frighteningly, have been my whole life. 

It's kind of unsettling actually, to feel like I don't really belong in either place. I'm just so Israeli to my American friends. And here in Israel I'm unforgivably American. This came up at Seminary in a couple of different episodes. Once, upon discovering my strong revulsion of Chalva (a deplorable yet popular snack in Israel made from Sesame. Yuck!) a roommate of mine proudly informed me that she had finally found one thing she was more Israeli than me in. Imagine that! I was a little bit taken aback by her comment, especially because she said it so passionately. I guess The Roommates had caught on to my tendency to take short showers (water-saving), eat rich breakfasts (as opposed to just cereal and milk), wash dishes by first lathering soap on all of them and only then washing them (the water-saving way), my bone-deep love of sunflower seeds, and my fondness of wearing sandals for just about every occasion--irregardless of the formality of the function. Most of these habits I'd picked up from my father in America without any concise thought. Of course I picked up just as many quaint American manners from my mother, like waiting in proper lines, saying “excuse me” if I bump into somebody, and not sharing my personal opinions or life advice with strangers I happen upon. In any event, I’ve began to realize that I'm really half--half and it's time to embrace this identity. Not only am a citizen in this country because I am Jewish and chose to return to my homeland, but I've been a citizen since birth! 

This realization has given me a lot to ponder, and in some ways has bolstered my confidence, while in other ways rattled me to the core. This epiphany has aided me in fielding some of people's unwarranted comments and general feeling of foreignness because I feel a really strong right to be here, and also I don't feel the same longing to be "Israeli" that I've seen in many of my friends and acquaintances. I have met people who really feel (or at least seem to me) that the end-all goal is to speak Hebrew “like an Israeli,” and be culturally “Israeli” in everything they do and think and feel. I don't really understand this desire for two reasons:

1)    You can’t help where you were born, in what country, time, or region. It’s not up to you what your mother tongue is, or how many languages are spoken in your home. Why try and pretend or make up for an upbringing that wasn’t yours?

2)    If you moved here for religious reasons, and with a desire to settle the land then just being here and living life here is fulfilling that commandment and/or dream. G-d said live in Israel. G-d didn’t say “be Israeli.” If you are Israeli and you live in Israel—wonderful. Then your culture and language match your region. If you’re not Israeli but live in Israel, well try very hard to learn and use Hebrew (it’s the language of the land), and it is definitely smoother if you understand it’s a different culture than where you came from, but you can’t be “Israeli” if you grew up in a different culture. And it seems painful to keep pushing for this unattainable and sort of silly goal.

Many people talk about doing “Israeli things” and integrating into society as a goal of the highest importance. I’ve even heard of families who come from America and only let their children be friends with Israeli kids and no other Olim children who speak English because they want their kids to be Israeli and not have any problems in society.

From the above example it would seem that it’s the most important thing ever to assimilate into Israeli society. Yet I remain unconvinced. I think it’s important to try and understand it, and not to feel the need to change it. It’s very useful to know what is rude here, and what is expected. I’m not in America anymore and I’ve realized that. Some things that I would modify maybe should not be changed because they have reasons based on how Israel functions, where it’s located on the map, and a whole bundle of other really fantastic reasons that my newbie self has little or no knowledge of.

With all of this I’m still American and I’m not sure why people think that’s such a bad thing. Is the Hebrew-only speaking Sabra fulfilling settling the land of Israel better than I am just because he doesn’t get confused at the bank and doesn’t take two and a half hours to fill out an application? It’s certainly easier for him to live here but I don’t really see how he’s doing anything more than the French Oleh that made Aliyah to be a lone soldier in the IDF, or the family from Britain that moved here to build a life here. We all; are living in a time where we have the privilege and blessing of being able to live in our homeland. We all can reap benefit from this amazing gift.

Anyway, those are my impressions so far. I don’t understand a lot of things I see and hear here, but I’m learning more and more every day. I’m probably writing too much again, so I’ll end here. Hopefully I will write more of my experiences and impressions of living in Jerusalem in the next post. Until then dear readers, be well and I hope everyone everywhere is staying cool.

כשהייתי מדרשה פעם אחת אכלתי עם כמה חברות שלי בדירה שלהן. באמצע הסעודה רציתי להגיד להן שהיה יותר מדי אוכל אז אמרתי "ואי יש הרבה אוכל ואהיה שמנת!" כולכן צחקו עליי ושאלתי "מה? מה אמרתי?" הן הסבירו לי שהאנגלית אמרתי "I am cream" במקום "I'll be fat" מה שהייתי צריכה להגיד היה "אהיה שמנה" :)

Translation: When I was in Midrasha one time I ate with some of my friends in their apartment. In the middle of the meal I wanted to tell them that there was too much food. So I said "Why, I'll be cream!" All of them laughed at me and I asked "what? What did I say?" They explained to me in English that I had said "I'll be whip cream" instead of "I'll be fat." :)

I remain as always, yours etc,

Shira

P.S a few mistakes in the Hebrew I couldn't easily fix because I'm posting from my laptop and I don't have a Hebrew keypad yet. Sorry for all the prefix mistakes/lacks. Also it comes out in a funny color because I type it on my phone and copy and paste from email and a whole bunch of nonsense. I'll work on using a Keyboard next time... Thanks for your patience. 

Hello!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while...no wifi in my dorm and loads of other lame excuses. Also the formatting is a little strange for this post because I wrote it at so many different times. I apologize.  Anyway...

Well I always have such dreary and depressing posts and that's not really fun. I tallied up my positive versus negative posts and although they sum up about fifty-fifty, I noticed that the positive ones are about two thirds shorter. Oops. 

I realize this is strange, and I don't fully understand why this is, but I do see that it gives a more morbid feeling to the whole blog. Thus, to combat this dark cloud, I thought to jot down some funny conversations I've had (or someone in my family has had) or heard as an immigrant. I will note that these may be slightly embellished for effect, but a very close variation (if not the exact version) of these conversations did occur. 

1) Happy Birthday

My father, mother, and I are gathered around speaking to our American friend. She introduces us to her son who we are unsure if he speaks English. While my Israeli father is conversing with him

Friend (in whisper to me): It's my son's birthday today. Wish him happy birthday.

Me (awkwardly): !מזל טוב! עד מאה ועשרים

 Translation: Congratulations! Until 120!

Elongated (to me) pause. In my head I keep going: "Wait, how do I say happy birthday? How do I say happy birthday???" Meanwhile the conversation between my father and the son is continuing. Finally...

Me (interjecting loudly after socially awkward pause): !יום הולדת שמח 

Translation: Happy birthday!

2) Annoying Neighbor

Walking with my buddies from the Shevet (youth group) on Shabbat. One of them turns to me in a friendly way and starts to chat with me

Friend 1: מה שלומך שירה? איך מדרשה? שמתי שפלונה אלמונה היא שם איתך. איזה כיף! תגידי לי פלונה אלמונה היא מעצבנת אותך

Translation: How's it going Shira? I heard that X is at Seminary with you. What fun! Tell me, does X annoy you?

I think to myself "Well gee, that word probably means something like help or manages. Of course my friend helps me out!

Me: !כן כן בטח

Translation: Yes yes! Of course!

The friend in question, who is also strolling with us, swivels around and asks in a slightly hurt tone

Friend 2: מה? אני מה?

Translation: What? I what?

Me (beginning to color slightly): ...מה קרה? הפואל הזה כמו לעזור נכון? משהו טוב

Translation: What happened? This verb is like to help, right? Something good...

Friend one (in English now): No Shira, it is like to annoy.

3)The Hysterical phone-call 

I needed to make an appointment to receive a shot for my national service. I'd been through quite a few hoops already and many people I spoke to on the phone kept sending me to different offices and all around the country. Finally, I had everything I needed and I wanted to schedule an appointment. I'd been told that it is best to just ask to speak in English for anything medical related in this country. So I swallowed my pride and decided to just ask to conduct the phone call in English.I called the number to make an appointment and:

Me: שלום, אפשר לדבר באנגלית?

Translation: Hello, is it possible to speak in English?

Woman 1: כן רגה.

Translation: Sure, wait a moment

At this point she put me on hold. Then another woman picked up a few moments later.

Me: שלום, אפשר לדבר באנגלית?

Translation: Hello, is it possible to speak in English?

Woman 2:  כן רגה.

Translation: Sure, one moment.

This woman tried to transfer me to a different person, but it wasn't working and she kept telling me to wait a sec. Finally I just gave up and said...

Me (very disgruntled and wary):אפשר לדבר ברברית אם יש לך צבלנות.

Translation: It's possible to speak in Hebrew if you have patience.

The woman laughed and then said she did have patience. I made the appointment and it turned out she did speak a little English. After we had successfully scheduled an apointment from a mostly Hebrew conversation...

Me: ממש? וואו היה יותר קל מחשבתי! תודה רבה!!!

Translation: Really? Wow, that was easier than I thought! Thanks so much!

The woman was laughing and laughing as I hung up. I think I made her day. 

And my friends, those are just a few funny moments. Other times people tell me I have bad Hebrew, but they use the wrong gender and I laugh in my head at the absurdity of them insulting my Hebrew incorrectly. Sometimes I say I want to cancel something when I mean express it. This happens to the best of us and although in the moment it is often very painful, it is good to try and reflect later and have a good laugh. 

I hope you all have a great day. My eventual goal is to post once a week. Wish me luck!

Yours etc,

Shira

No need for more Hebrew here, there's plenty in the post :D

What Happened to Compassion?

Greetings,

A couple of weeks ago I spoke with a good friend on the phone about my acceptance to National Service in a hospital next year (I will G-d willing dedicate a whole post to all the shannagins that went into that some other time). My dear friend told me how happy she was for me, and she expressed her excitement that I was reaching a new phase in my Aliyah, a place where things were turning around and getting better. At the time, I accepted her congratulations and thought quietly to myself that Aliyah doesn't quite work like that, but maybe she was correct and I was looking at it wrong. Well, a few weeks later I realize my gut was correct--it doesn't work like that at all (sorry to my lovely friend, I know you were hoping for the best).

My sister is on a hike now with the other teenagers her age from our Yishuv (her Shevet). She didn't want to go, but we convinced her. "It'll be fun," we said. "It's good for you," we said. "Don't worry about the language, there will be English speakers there to help," we said. Well, I am officially eating my hat and sternly reprimanding myself for encouraging her to go on a hike she didn't want to go on, and for putting my head in her personal decision-making. I now understand why she didn't want to go.

It all started charmingly, her friend came to pick her up, and they set off to wait for the bus in good spirits. Before they had even left the soil of the Yishuv, someone heard my sister's friend speaking to her in English and said, "no don't speak to her in English, her house is in English, that's enough."

I was in shock. How could someone say that? How could someone pass that judgment on my sister? I am struggling to understand the insensitivity that one must possess to make a comment like that, even a passing one. I've been trying to understand this phenomenon for months now, and I still am no clearer on why people say these things. I hear people saying "yeah her Hebrew's not that good"--when I'm standing right there. This is not even touching on what people say to my face, such as "well, aren't you scared for the Hebrew? I mean I don't think you can do it." "Wait another year, it's too challenging for you."

Back to my sister and her hike: There is no way that that person knows what's going on in my sister's head. There is no way they know how much Hebrew or English she understands. What's the big deal if she likes to speak to her friends in English? Why is Hebrew so much better for her right now, at this moment in time--a mere 7 months after her arrival here? For the people that grew up speaking Hebrew; great! You've revived an ancient language.  For the people that never set foot out of Israel and don't appear to posses one iota of compassion or one speck of imagination for what it must feel like to be in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, all bombarding you in an unfamiliar language; cheerio. Let's all clap, you are all like Itzchak Avinu (Issac our father)...or are you? Do you really think he would have said that to my sister?

My sister just got here. Yes she didn't come from a war-raging country, or a poverty-stricken province. Yes, we (her and I) come from a more "spoiled" place. But that doesn't negate the fact that we chose to come here, to what is supposed to be the Jewish home. Just because I came from a 1st world country is my Aliyah a joke?

It's hard to leave plenty for poverty.

It is onerous to leave understanding for judgment.

It's tough to leave grandeur for rubble.

It's trying to leave popularity for pariah-dom.

It is challenging to go from being helpful to being an oaf.

It is herculean to leave comfort for struggle.

It is laborious to leave English for Hebrew.

It is a struggle to leave familiarity for the unknown.

And that struggle continues every day. Every wretched day. Does it come in waves? I would say so. Indeed, sometimes things look very bright and sunny. Every now and then I meet a really caring person, or come across a family who really wants all the Jews here, all of them home, and they do everything they can to welcome and help. But there are peaks and valleys, high and low points. I think as time wears on the stretches in between get longer, and maybe I will one day stay on the peaks permanently. But for now, there are still dips, and I ask G-d for help in everything I do.

People ask me why I'm here, why don't I leave? I came home, and home I intend to stay. I belong here, even if the natives don't seem to think so. Did I expect a warmer welcome, yes. Did I expect more understanding? Yes. Was I prepared for degradation? No. Was I prepared for continuous judgment? No.

Will I deal with it and persevere? You bet.

I remember hanging out with a lot of Saudi students in America. I was friends with many non-native speakers, and I learned a lot about other cultures. When I came to Israel and experienced being an immigrant for myself, I looked back on my experiences there and realized that I should have spoken slower, shouldn't have written such long messages and other retrospective tips. But overall, when I was there I tried to imagine what is was like for them and to show compassion to people far away from their home, food, language, and culture. I imagined, and even though I didn't get it right all the time, at least I tried to have compassion. I attempted to think about what it was like to be in a place where everything around someone is foreign.

And that's what I just don't understand. Didn't peoples' parents and teachers tell them that? Didn't peoples' counselors school them in the ways of compassion and kindness?

What happened to compassion?

  היום אני במצב רוח רע. יש עננים שחורים ואני מרגישה בייאוש. אני מקווה שאנשים יהיו יותר נחמד בעתיד

Translation: Today I'm in a bad mood. There are black clouds and I feel in despair. I hope that people will be nicer in the future.

I remain, yours etc,
Shira

March Life Update :)

Greetings readers,

I had stopped writing here because I was finding the posts too depressing and morbid. However, the fans (dare I address anyone as such?) have protested and thus I find myself again staring at the computer screen, wondering how best to showcase my life without making anyone want to cry.

Well, despite that dreary introduction, life is actually improving. I've passed the six month anniversary of my Aliyah (moving to Israel) and I can see that in some respects I am getting more comfortable and accustomed to the ways of the people here, and some of the places themselves.

Since I last wrote, of course much has changed. I finished Ulpan, although don't know how I did on the final exam yet. I recently moved to Jerusalem to learn in Seminary (A Jewish religious school just for girls). I'm learning in the overseas program which is taught in English (although of course 90% of our books and sources are in Hebrew) and is open to girls of all ages. Some people asked me why I didn't just go to learn in the Israeli program which is all in Hebrew, and my answer was that I wanted to go to Seminary to learn Torah, and I'm learning it for me, so I can be a better Jew, and I can understand more of my Avodat Hashem (work of G-d). In my mind, it doesn't matter what language I do that in, meaning I could do it through pictures if it would help me, or in sign language. I am going there for the material, and I really want to understand what I am learning. At this point in my life I understand a lot more in English than I do in Hebrew, especially subtlety and details. And that's what I'm doing. I really love it there, and I'm learning a lot. Oh, and just to clarify I do actually take a couple of extra courses that are in Hebrew. I get much less out of them of course, but I try. And I am always looking for more to augment my studies.

Moving right along, Midrasha (Seminary) is going well, I'm making a lot of friends and I am very lucky because one of the girls from my Yishuv studies there as well! I am even fortunate enough to live very close to her, like just across the hall! We hang out a lot, and she helps me learn Hebrew. :) Also in my Yishuv I find myself feeling closer to the people here, and understanding them more than I used to. As time goes on many of the girls in my Shevet know my feelings on Hebrew, and now they can laugh with me when I make faces at the what's app group, and when I send photos people respond and know who I am. I'm still really quiet, and I'm not sure how long it will take for that to change, or even if it ever will. Maybe I will forever be a quieter type in Hebrew, and maybe that's okay. Many people associate silence and slow delivery of speech with mystery, snobbishness, and intrigue. So perhaps my issues of self expression in Hebrew will actually serve me well and make people think I am loads more interesting then I actually am. I mean, hypothetically people could mistake my long pause (where in reality I am searching for a word or translating a phrase) for deep introspection, and this will make my answer more important or interesting.

On a related note, at Seminary as I find myself in more conversations in English I realize it is so much easier to accidentally be mean or insulting. I didn't realize that having to measure each word and painstakingly prepare it before I deliver it, something I have always found dreadful and agonizing, could actually be a gift. When I calculate each word so meticulously I am much less likely to hurt or insult people. I can really be a master of my speech, and when I look at it in that light, it's actually remarkable. Just as one man's trash can be another's treasure, sometimes torment can actually be a legacy.

Lastly (I daresay I am always droning on endlessly on these posts; so sorry) here are some photographs of my Purim celebration today. Two photographs of are the lovely meal I attended--a "before" and an "after." And then one photograph is of the Mishloach Manot (gifts) I received. :)

I remain yours etc,
Shira


כן כן חיים שלי הוא ממשיכים כל יום . עדיין יש צרות אבל עכשיו לפעמים גם יש רגעים גדולים . לפעמים אני מרגישה אני ואני לומד איך להרגיש יותר נוח חוץ מהבית שלי (הוא מקום אנגלית). אני מקווה שיהיה היום בקרוב כשאני לא לדאוג . אני מחכה לפגוש עוד אנשים נחמדים במיוחד בעלי/בעלות מדות . אפילו שאני צעיר בחיים שמתי לב שאין מהשו יותר חשוב ממדות בבן אדם באמת בסוף היום אין דברים כאלא.

Translation: Yes yes, my life continues every day. Still there are troubles, but now sometimes there are also great moments. Sometimes I feel like myself, and I am learning how to feel more comfortable outside of my house (it's an English place). I hope that there will be a day soon when I will not worry. I am waiting to meet more nice people, especially masters of Middot (good character attributes). Even though I am young I have noticed in my life that there is nothing more important than Middot in a person. Really, at the end of the day there is nothing like it.