If At First You Don't Succeed, Try, Try again--Wow That Get Old

Hello readers,

Today is a cozy stormy day in Israel and seems like the perfect day to compose a blog post. I've just turned on the official Pride and Prejudice soundtrack so I can get straight to it!

The other day I needed to get the phone number of a specific office. I had previously been directed to call a Moked (I guess sort of like an information hotline?). After much procrastination I settled in to do the task. I called the Moked and was immediately bombast-ed by an automated menu all in Hebrew. It was fast, complicated, and unclear. I tried to hit the option I thought I wanted...but it didn't work. I hung up.  I renewed my resolve and redialed. Again the prerecorded list of options was presented to me and this time I tried to hear it all the way through, concluding that I must have missed the "speak with a breathing human being" option. I failed afresh and shut my phone once more.

I hunkered down and called yet again, my resolve staying firm but my annoyance building. I tried and tried to puzzle out the meanings of the lavish verbs and nouns they felt appropriate for the machine to use. For the third time I was unsuccessful in reaching a human being to get the number from and my understanding still disastrous. I dialed the number for a fourth time. The now familiar menu once again said it's piece and I impulsively decided to go with what possibly sounded like the option of speaking with a person if I stretched my imagination very much. It worked! I was put through to a woman who after I explained what I needed was super efficient and kind. The interaction took all of three minutes.

I left this situation in a musing mood. On the one hand I was very proud of myself for getting the number I needed. The whole ordeal was all in Hebrew and I didn't have to ask for help even once. That feeling was amazing. On the other hand, it took me four tries to call a simple line and get a phone number. I'm a twenty-something and I cannot complete a simple phone call. I was disappointed with myself and frustrated that as an Olah a straightforward task becomes such an ordeal.

I realized that this is where I am in my Aliyah. Thank G-d I am able to get many things done*, but it takes me several tries. It is hard for me to get things done correctly the first time, and because I moved here as an already-competent adult, this regression is onerous for me. I have indeed progressed since I first came here when I couldn't do anything and required aid for each undertaking. I am grateful for that but I am still exasperated that I am not as I once was. The echos of a past Shira continuously remind me that I used to be cool, that I used to be independent, and that I used to be  efficient.

As youngsters we are told "if at first you don't succeed try and try again. Well when you're a child and this adage is thrust at you it's easier to take in stride and just try again. But when it feels like you're all grown up and should be able to take care of yourself,  it's less elementary to have another go. Sometimes it's  just a drudge and even though I am thankful I can eventually make the phone call and piece the meaning together, I still miss the old Shira.

*(Please note that not everything can I get done and please don't leave this post thinking that I completely manage and I do get into many scrapes which I may record at another time).

I remain yours etc,
Shira

On the Vexation of Holiday (What a Joy Indeed!)

Dear Readers,

For all of you who have forgotten me, my name is Shira and I have a blog which you are reading and that I am dreadfully naughty at remembering to post on. Updates are in order as is expected when so long of a time span as elapsed since I last wrote.

I have finished my Sherut Leumi  (National Service) and am on vacation. Being on vacation is so delightful that it is actually vexing. Of a sudden, all the goals and aspirations which a mere week previously I felt and held dear to my heart, have thoroughly disintegrated and I find myself wondering why in the world I should ever return to routine, to studies, and pursuing goals that are so tough. Why not, say, spend my life as a Gardner? Or just read novels all day and all night long?

This is how you find me. Suddenly again at a loss of what to do, and when to do it, and also the question of why do I even want to do it. On holiday i find myself with the time to appreciate all the small things and remember my hobbies and petty pleasures. I have conversations I am 100% involved in and I have no nagging worry. I can focus completely on a task and my sister now keeps remarking on how sharp I am. I wake when I like (relatively speaking) and slumber when I wish and in general prance about as I like and lay about lazily and essentially just do as I please. To exist in such a carefree state is pure contentment! And so I find myself disoriented. I did not expect to feel this way after taking such a long while to decide what I wanted to do. After months of carefully planning and what feels like ages of serving the country I had not anticipated this questioning to resurface.

I had not foreseen myself questioning my life path any more but I find myself indeed doing just that. Questioning, however, is healthy and I am not angry at myself, merely puzzled. As I recently advised a close friend of mine, in my opinion before making any important decision it is wise to turn the ideas round and round in our heads and analyze it from any and all angles so that there is an answer to every single naysayer. I want to know why I am doing something just as deeply as I want to know why I am not doing something else. I must defend my ideals to myself and in this I find myself at present, struggling.

Do wish me luck as I wish to you all. In the near future I intend to post more about my reflections on two years of service dedicated to the country as well as host a guest writer.

I remain yours etc,
Shira

  חופש הוא טוב לנפש. להשתחרר אחרי שנתיים של שרות זה כיף וטוב. השרות שלי לא היתה מסוכנת או רעה בכלל אבל בסיום של כל דבר שעושים לתקופה ארוכה יש סיבה לחגוג ולהשתחרר. אני מודה ל 'ה על ההזדמנות לתרום למדינתי ולתת בתקן שהיה כל כך משמועתי לי אשית. זכיתי  מאוד.

Translation: Vacation is good for the soul. To feel release after two years of service is fun and good. My Service wasn't dangerous or bad at all but for any completion of something done for a long period of time there is reason to celebrate and give release. I thank G-d for the opportunity to give to my country and in a job that I found very meaningful personally. I greatly merited.

On Being Problematic and the Reality of not Giving a Poo

Dear readers,

I think I've changed. Actually, I believe I have become so altered that my former self would not be able to recognize me now (see the title of this post; most shocking!). I am approaching three years of being in this country and I am slowly acclimating to the culture and expectations here. However, I don't like what and who I am becoming.

I am in the process now of trying to attend a summer course while finishing my national service. I shall spare you all the gruesome particulars but essentially my boss agrees I should go and is willing to vouch for me and yet the national service people are adamantly opposed and feel I cannot do this. Without entering all the details, a conversation I had with my coordinator for national service went something like this:

Her: What? No no that's too many hours and days it's really not ok.

Me: Well I have permission from my boss so it really should be fine.

Her: No that’s not enough, it's not up to him. I can talk to so and so but it's really an issue.

Me: Ok but how is it an issue? Want me to talk to so and so?

Her: No, I will. But it's just very problematic.

Me: So what should I do?

Her: Give up. Push it off or do the course later. Or give up your service. It's just so problematic.

Me: *And here is where I really surprised myself* Ok. Is there anyone else I should get permission from perhaps? Are you sure you don't want me to talk to so and so?

In that moment I simply progressed with the conversation. I wasn't mean or aggressive but I was quite frankly unphased. I was non-pulsed by being called problematic. I began to reflect on what my response would have been a few years ago and I was aghast at my composure. If someone had said that what I was requesting or that I myself was problematic I once would have burst into tears. I would have struggled with being a "problem" for anybody. I used to shudder at being disliked but now…now I suppose I'm ok with it. I have begun to recognize that I can't win everyone over. Somebody, somewhere, at some point in time won't like me. I need to come to grips with this.

I am by nature what is often called "a people pleaser." I usually say the correct thing to placate the right people because I dislike confrontation and I can't live with the thought that someone doesn’t like me. I don't want to fight. I want everyone to love me, always. However, I am realizing this is impractical and vaguely childish. Pop stars have been singing about haters for decades and indeed "the haters are gonna hate." My epiphany is "so what?" I am not being lacksidaiscal, I am being pragmatic. I observe my surroundings and I see that on a day-to-day basis I am easy enough to work with. People in my ward don't complain about me, and on the contrary I am told I am very well liked and appreciated for what I do. If I'm problematic well, I guess yes, yes I am. Sorry you'll have to deal with that.

This kind of newfound gall in myself I have discovered is either completely new, or otherwise it has resurfaced from the deep recesses of my half Israeli hybrid self. I guess it's like taking the phrase "not my problem" and going above and beyond with it. When I studied in my course for phlebotomy I was told similar things. My then coordinator was shouted at on the phone for my request to have help translating my exams into English. She was verbally harassed as they told her ever so impolitely that this program was for Hebrew speakers, who did I think I was to make requests like this? This simply wasn't done, and this was the first and last time they would do it etc. We went ahead with it, however, and I am so glad we did as I find a lot of meaning and purpose in my service.

Until this point in my post I was very cool. Until I got a very nasty phone call from my coordinator. I was accused of being a liar, and told off for trying to convince others to lie for me including a prestigious professor. I was very taken aback on the phone and I could hear my voice falter. Still, I tried to understand. I told the coordinator I didn't understand and she proceeded to lecture me on how I did indeed understand but I was just trying to make everything go my way and get what I want. I was aghast. I felt assaulted, violated, and very, very, very misunderstood. I am an immigrant! How    dare you tell me I understand when I'm telling you that I don’t!

And all this in an exclusively hebrew conversation as this coordinator frequently informs me she

doesn't understand one word of English.

Afterwards the coordinator of the hospital came on the phone line and wonder of wonders, this 

woman (who usually disfavors me and has made it clear on several occasions I am far from her favorite person) and she of all people tried to help me. It was extraordinary. She decided to extend her hand and try to make it work. Perhaps she was having a good day? Perhaps she was remembering the time I did her a huge favor and translated a document for her which was totally out of my range of duties but I did it for her since I'm nice? Whatever it was, she decided to try to help me try to make it work.

 I have been writing this post for something like a fortnight and each time I sit back down to it, new events have transpired. I still do not have all the paperwork in my hands but today I physically faced the coordinator who was so rude to me and we were fine. I will likely never understand why we are fine, but somehow we sat down together and there was no drama. She was so insulting on the phone and yet there we were smiling at each other. Showing my face reminded her of the papers and we are once again in the process of working it out. Only time will tell if I really will be able to do the summer course.

I don't really know what to think I suppose. What started out as me being ready to embrace my gall in the first part of this post, transformed into my anger and hurt at being spoken to in such a nasty tone, which then become annoyance and reluctant acceptance of how things are playing out and work here.  I call daily the summer course program to find out if I have more paperwork to do and no one picks up the phone. I try to stay on the straight and narrow, but am scolded or simply not answered. The real change in me is that now, I keep ploughing through because if I don't, no one will for me. I've learned that if  I let people, they'll just walk all over me. Is that a good thing to learn? Is this the proper way to feel? I really don't know.

I remain pensive and yours etc,

Shira

כל העניין הזה מאוד מתסכל אותי. מעצבן ברמות ואפילו שאני לא אוהבת להגיד את זה "אין לי כוח." אני מתחילה לשאול את עצמי אם אני בדרך הנכונה אם זה כל כך קשה ויש בוץ בכל פינה. כבר לא יודעת מה אני ואיפה אני בחיי. כנראה נראה.

Translation: This whole matter really frustrates me. It's super annoying and even though I hate saying this "I have no energy." I'm starting to ask myself if I'm on the right path if it's so hard and there's mud in every corner. I already don’t know what and where I am in my life. I guess we'll see.

  

Evolving Zionism

Hello Readers,

Spring is here! Passover has come and gone, and we just finished another annual round of the
"Yom Ha's," three modern (I don't really find this term fitting but so they are called) holidays. It began with Yom Hashoah (holocaust remembrance day) where I got to particpate in lighting candles at the hospital's ceremony. Yom Hazikaron (Memorial day) followed a week later, and the whole country mourned the loss of fallen soldiers and victims of terror. Immediately following is Yom Haatzamoot (Independance day) where we jarringly go from tears of sorrow to tears of joy and parties spread throughout the country like wildfires.

Of course a lot of thoughts and feelings have been surging through me during these weeks. The whole country is contemplating and this year even more than in the past I've felt the meaning and reflections of these days lingering in my consciousness. This year I felt more like I was experiencing these days from the inside and not just looking in. I hadn't really realized, but these last two years I still related to these holidays somewhat as a tourist. This year I knew more of the names being read, I remembered where I was when these things happened. I was here...in Israel. It struck me that I wake up every morning to serve a country my great grandparents could only dream of. I serve the people of a long hope. I walk the streets of a longing so old I can't even really wrap my head around it. I go out with friends in places my ancestors cried and died for. I sit in parks and have BBQ's in cities and villages immortalized in songs and poetry from ages ago. Me, Shira. That's what I do because I live in Eretz Yisrael.

My Zionism is changing. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could call the shots and make the judgments and knew what everything felt like. Silly, arrogant Shira.  This tough little country is wriggling her way into your heart in ways  you had never anticipated it. Her soil is becoming rich and dear to you like you never imagined. She may be small in size, but she is huge. Each step taken here is heavy, it is laden with tears and blood. It reeks of smoke and gun powder. Each stone has been fought for with sweat and courage. The decades blur together as battles of now and then play out. And their sacrifice echos in the wind and is heard in the waves.  People died so I could live here. People fell here so I could stand. People sacrificed so I could be here. The implications are ginormous. The connections are unfathomable. A stranger on the street lost her son so I could take the train. The soldier guarding my border saw a friend fall before his eyes so I could go grocery shopping. The sense of gratitude, of debt, and of responsibility to live and care for the land is overwhelming. How could I live anywhere else?


Bought in blood and tears,
Your currency is shattered hopes and dreams.

Soil is thick in blood and fear.
And sorrow sings from your fallen beams.

Stones cry out in past grief,
Yet your trees blossom on soil won with courage.

Enemies galore, many call you theif.
But truth I know because here I stand and I will not be discouraged.

Today the air is tranquil and still.
And flags of blue and white sail through your sky.

Soldiers protect me from those who want to kill.
And every day I remember those who for you , were willing to die.

To you I came and here I will stay.
Because I am in my land, and quite simply, there is no other way.

I remain yours etc.
Shira

Winter Thoughts (on an Ironically Sunny Day!)

 Hello Dear Readers,


This past week in Jerusalem I had the privilege of enjoying some splendid winter weather. I want to take this opportunity to share some photos I snapped and also to share some of my thoughts on winter weather in Israel.

Reminiscence:
I woke up one morning to my roommate staring out the window and shouting "Oh my gosh, I can barely see past the next house!" I was so excited, and when I saw the fog I was even more charmed. That morning on my way to Service I couldn't stop photographing the winter wonderment. The petrichor elated me, and I found myself grinning unexpectedly at no one and nothing in particular. It's hard to put into words, but when the sky is grey and the asphalt streets are dark with moisture I can't help but feel at home. I feel like I belong in a way I just don't the rest of the time when the sky is baby-blue clear and the sun shines down fiercely on me. I spent so much of my childhood watching raindrops fall against windows and looking heavenward for answers in an overcast sky. The sound of rain is peaceful to me, and I could watch raindrops land in puddles for hours. The damp feel of the brush (the meager amount of brush I find in the holy city!) as I walk past it is tranquility itself for someone like me. I don't find the opaqueness of the fog blinding, but rather it opens my eyes and imagination and paints the whole city like aqueous strokes on a canvas.

When I got to work on this day, there was a skip in my step. When the night shift doctor asked how I was, I bouncily explained that I absolutely loved the weather and was having a fantastic morning. He was unimpressed and asked why I felt so much at home. I patiently explained to him that I come from a place where it rains nine months out of the year and fog is a near constant companion. The weather didn't dampen my spirits at all!

Adapting to Israeli Winter:
In my home state there are trees everywhere and they offer protection from the wind. Here there is no shelter to be sought in the boughs of any tree since the few trees that manage to take sustenance from the sparse rainfall, only yield scrawny and lanky branches. When it rains here in Israel, it feels much more serious and every rain is like a storm with huge gusts of winds attacking everyone and the rain drops feel larger and more dagger-like. Thus, despite fighting much embarrassment and shame, I use an umbrella sometimes. I would never have agreed to such a silly concept in Oregon, and over there everyone could spot a non Oregonian miles away based on if they carried an umbrella. Sigh, I have now joined the dark side.

The driving here is both highly amusing and  tragic when it rains or is stormy out. Growing up in such a wet state, we learned early on in driving lessons how to handle ourselves in hail, heavy rain, drizzle, fog, frozen rain, icy roads, etc. Israelis, however, are shocked anew each time more than a few droplets spill from the sky, and often put on their emergency lights and slip into the right lane so they can go at exaggeratedly slow speeds. The slick roads also are hard for them to navigate, and just about every time it rains there is an immediate spike in automobile accidents, which is very sad.

Last week I found myself on a bus Saturday night and it began to rain heavily. The whole freeway came to a near standstill as most everyone on the road stopped to wait it out. The rain fell thickly on the bus windows and the outside world looked like a mirage. Suddenly, it began to hail, and little white balls were furiously hurled down from the heavens. The whole bus was abuzz and kept excitedly shutting the windows and looking out avidly. The girl next to me excitedly asked me "do you think it's snow or hail?!" I restrained myself, and told her it was hail, because the sound it makes; snow is quieter. In my head, I also told her it isn't quite logical that it would snow mere seconds after rain, as it snows when it's too cold for rain. I thought it was adorable how eager she was.

A last issue I will raise is dressing for the cold. Israelis, bless their souls, don boots and scarves on November first no matter what. In their minds, it is winter and ergo we switch to long sleeves, and heavy footwear. No matter if it's still 60 F outside. Now as winter really does set in, the layers increase and the coats lengthen and inflate, so that by the time February arrives no one leaves the house without looking like a Michelin snowman. And new mothers have it the worst. They insist on en-robing their infants not only with extraneous layers, but also snowsuits! In a country where in most places it never snows, and if it does, it rarely sticks. I was recently chatting with a friend in America and she was telling me about all the snow they had, and she causally mentioned to me how she really ought to invest in a snowsuit for her little son. I could scarcely contain my merriment as I related to her the bundled up state of many of the babies in Israel. :-)


I wish you all the best, and am still too lazy to post in Hebrew from this laptop.

I remain yours etc,
Shira

Raindrops on Glass

Har Herzl in the Fog

The Doctor Visit

"Good morning Doctor"

"Good morning. Please have a seat. Tell me, how are you feeling?"

"Well, not so good. Actually I'm feeling a little off."

"Oh? What are your complaints? What is bothering you specifically?"

"Sometimes my heart hearts. Especially at night when I'm in bed."

"What kind of pain? Is it a stabbing pain? A muscle type of pain?"

"I would say an ache. It aches."

"For how long do these aches last during a given episode? Does it worsen if you get up, or if you do a lot of physical activity?"

"They come and go. Usually only when I am laying down before bed or sitting down and thinking, No connection to physical activity."

"I see, what else has been bothering you? Do you have a fever? Nausea? Diarrhea?"

"No, no fever last I checked and my stomach is fine. I've lost my appetite though. I just find it hard to concentrate on the food and my stomach feels like it's churning. But not exactly in an unpleasant way."

"Okay... does this happen when you are interacting with any specific people? Perhaps in stressful situations."

"It really only happens when I talk to one person."

"I see. Have you had any headaches? Been experiencing any dizziness or lightheadedness?"

"Now that you mention it, I haven't exactly felt lightheaded but I've been finding it very hard to focus and my friends and family keep telling me that I'm zoning out and I've gone to space. They often say I have a goofy grin while I'm doing this. Doctor, do you think something is wrong with my face?"

"Hmm, let's do the physical exam. Here, let me listen to your lungs. Breath with your mouth open please. Okay, and now let me hear your heart. Okay very good, stand up please, take a few steps. Okay very nice. Now follow my finder only with your eyes without moving your head. And now take your pointer finger and bring it to your nose, while your eyes are closed. And now the other side. Lay back done and let me feel your stomach and tell me if you feel any pain. Okay let me just feel your legs and jaw. Okay, we're all done here. Let me make sure I have all your symptoms down before I go type it in my computer: you've been feeling off, experiencing a loss of appetite but without pain or diarrhea and find yourself 'zoning' out a lot and sometimes smiling while doing this. People say you seem far away and you're having a hard time concentrating. You feel 'churning' in your stomach but haven't throw up at all. Have I got it all?"

"Just about. I also have been having a hard time sleeping. I can't seem to nod off and I find myself sighing a lot. Sometimes just in the middle of the day."

"Okay, let me summarize in your file for a moment and then I'll tell you what I think is going on."

On the computer screen the doctor writes;

Subjective: 23 year old male. Usually healthy with no noteworthy medical background. Complains of malaise, trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating, occasional chest 'aches' at a time of rest and 'churning' stomach (i.e. he has butterflies). No signs of infection or inflammation and clean diagnostics. 

Objective: 
Lungs: Completely clean with good air flow from both sides.
Heart: Regular rhythm and clean systolic pressure.
Stomach: Empty and without any sensitivity. No noticeable blockages.
Basic neurological check completely clean. 
Legs: No edema on either side.

Assessment: No need to seek further consultions from any specialist. Patient should be given a reality check and asked who the girl is. There is no indication for blood tests or images to be ordered. Patient is love sick.

Plan: Explain to patient that he is completely healthy and ask what her name is. 

"Alright listen up. Your physical exam is totally clean and you are healthy. Nothing is wrong with you and although your are indeed suffering from symptoms. It is a bug that people catch, especially in your age range. You have this bug and it may pass or it may persist. The fate is in your hands."

"Doctor? I don't understand what you're saying. I have a bug? Like a stomach bug??"

"Yes. You have the love bug."

"...."

"Son, you're love sick. What's her name?"

"I...uhhh, Her name is Noa."

"Well? Are you gonna tell her or what? If you don't do anything one of two things can happen. Either the symptoms will go away and everything will pass with only minimal scarring, or it will persist for a long time after and you'll start to feel feelings of regret and have even more trouble sleeping."

"Doctor, isn't there anything you can do? Anything I can take? What do I do."

"Go ask her out, That's the best treatment. Good luck."

The End

I remain yours,
Shira

A Day of Culture Shocks, oh What Fun!

Hello Readers!

Last week was an interesting and busy week! I had one day in particular where the whole day I experienced such hilarious and continuous culture shock that I felt the need to share it on the blog with you so you could all have a good laugh:

Incident #1:

The day started out normal, I was a little fatigued in the morning but continued on with my day. In the morning I was sitting in the doctors room as I often do, and the doctors were getting ready for their day, casually filling each other in on patients and discussing everyone's situation. It wasn't exactly a meeting, but the room was full. All of a sudden one of the residents starts rummaging through his locker and then in front of everyone, without warning, whips off his t-shirt and puts on his scrub shirt. I was very taken aback and had to quickly turn away from his exposed torso. No one seemed to notice but me, and he didn't look abashed in the slightest. Trying to keep my composure I asked my Israeli friends and coworkers if this was acceptable behavior in this country, and although they said not everyone would do it, they were't surprised that some would. More than their words I watched their faces and every time the shock I was waiting for didn't come. 

Incident #2: Later in the day one of the doctors started distributing a cake he had brought to work in celebration of the fact that his son who had been ill was released from the hospital (this in and of itself is different culturally as in Israel it is always expected that the person celebrating something will bring cake or food to give out, and not other people bring for him. This is counter-intuitive to me as I am accustomed to bringing the birthday boy a cake, or bringing food to the woman who just came back from maternity leave!) He began cutting huge pieces and gave me the honor of the first piece. All at once, everyone began telling him to stop serving enormous pieces. One doctor said "I'll just share with Shira" to which I happily agreed. I of course, expected her to bring another plate and fork, and take half my cake on to her plate. This was not to be! She plopped herself right beside me, grabbed a fork and dug in right with me, on my plate. As if we were sisters or bosom buddies from childhood. Of course we are neither, she is a senior doctor in my department who I've known all of three weeks. This is how it is here, everyone really does feel like family. I worked hard to hide my incredulity, and we shared our cake in 'piece'. I ate the cherry on top. :)

Incident #3: I went to an event in the afternoon at the Association for American and Canadians in Israel (AACI) and on my long bus ride there from the hospital I saw an old man on the bus pull a bag of some sort of unhealthy snack (chips or pretzels or something of the sort) and start to munch contentedly as he stared out the window. I found myself grinning at the entire situation. The picture I was seeing before me of a) an old man eating a children's snack, and b) him eating on the bus! My childhood is flooded with memories of either being told off for bringing a drink(with a lid!) on the bus or seeing the huge signs plastered on the windows of the bus with large red X's through pictures of food and drink. I smiled to myself and relished in the relaxed attitude of Israelis towards eating on the bus.

I hope you enjoyed these little episodes of culture shock, and laughed like I did. The journey to understanding different peoples and cultures may be long, but it is definitely worth it. 

היה לי יום מאוד מצחיק וזה כיף לי מאוד שאני יכולה לצחוק ולא לבכות בימים האלה. אני מרגישה שהתקדמתי בנתיב האישי של חיים ואני עוד צעד יותר קרוב. 

Translation: I had a very funny day and it's so great for me that I was able to laugh about it and not cry on these days. I feel that I have advanced on my personal path of my life and I'm one step closer.

I remain yours etc,

Shira