Archive for the 'aliyah rites' Category
February 11th, 2010 by elie
You know you’ve been here a while when you get all the jokes at a Jerusalem Anglo comedy show.
Presenting… HaHaפuch! Tonight was the group’s opening night; you may have already heard it of it from such performances as Facebook and YouTube.
How about a little description?
Our comedy troupe provides the other side of Israeli life, the daily dramas of bureaucracy, cafes, traffic jams, political troubles and more. And we do it through humor using improv, sketches, videos and music to let the world know that it’s ok to laugh at Israel and in fact there are a lot of funny things happening here.
Have to say, I was really impressed with the fact that with all the funny things we see and hear as immigrants in Israel on a daily basis, there is yet more that can be shared over improv, sketch and video comedy and still be hilarious.
The group aims to perform once a month, so stay tuned for its next showing.
As HaHaפuch says: Remember, Israel is funny. And if you don’t think so then you haven’t seen our show.
July 15th, 2009 by elie
Just left the Australian Embassy in Tel Aviv. If you happen to be an Australian married to an American and you have children together, then I don’t have to tell you how much more of a pleasant experience it is to acquire Aussie citizenship and passport for your tri-citizen child.
The embassy is located at the Discount building in central Tel Aviv, a building which actually made me a little homesick for New York City (mainly due to the complicated elevator system).
When you step through the glass door of the embassy, the security is… a guy. With a metal detector. The check is as laid back as the atmosphere of the embassy itself. The corridors and stairwell are peppered with Australian photographs and imagery, mostly places I recognize and animals I just want to cuddle.
The view from the tower windows is a bird’s eye of Tel Aviv and the beginnings of the Mediterranean. My Aussie half said it reminded him of Melbourne and the bay.
At the reception window, a guy best described as a ‘good solid bloke’ was hanging around with some paperwork. He must have taken this embassy job because of the location; he was the perfect fit as an Australian relocated to Tel Aviv: light cotton shirt, beaded necklace, shoulder-length blonde-highlighted curls, and the accent we all associate with the late Steve Irwin.
My husband took care of business and I wandered and wondered if either of us could get a job working in this paradise. Imagine hanging out in a little piece of Australia every day, just 40 minutes from home?
As we wrapped up, the Aussie passport clerk told us how much my husband’s preparedness was appreciated; you see, the application was not only complete, but he even brought back-up copies. He shared with us how most people don’t fill in all details, bring documents with mistaken information, or as one applicant did – take the photo details too literally (it says to submit the photo face down; the man tucked in his chin and pointed his eyes to the floor).
“Y’see,” the clerk said, “some people just don’t realise at first they get the birth documents with misspelled names… then they get he-yah and it boomerangs back at ‘em.”
I guess the best thing, aside from the whole thing taking about fifteen minutes, was sitting at the little table by the window with the view and reading a pamphlet about immigrating to Australia. “Retire the Australia way!” “Start your own business in Australia.” “Watch your kids grow up Australian.”
My little Australian paradise. And then… my paradise broken in half and shattered into a million pieces when a guy walked through my happy hallway dreams and yelled into his cell phone, “Yossi? Yossi! Shomea oti? YOSSI!!!”
At least I’m leaving Tel Aviv today with two Australians of my very own.
July 14th, 2009 by elie
I’ve been in this mood lately… I’m not sure what it is exactly, but it’s this subtle hostility I’ve been feeling towards my Israeli surroundings.
Perhaps it was the head-on collision between two cars on the Beit Shemesh road (speeding drunk teens versus middle agers at 5pm). Perhaps it was the pointless fire in my neighborhood yesterday. Maybe a frustrating experience at the bank last week. Annoying telemarketing calls I’ve been getting. People at the supermarket.
Probably all of it.
Despite that, today I felt like eating a tzabar/sabra (cactus fruit) and as I was peeling it open, I was thinking about that old cliche: A popular slang term for native-born Israelis is ’sabra,’ because like the Mediterranean fruit, they are all prickly on the outside yet sweet and soft on the inside.
Yet, what everyone fails to mention in that metaphor is that within the sweet fruit you swallow there are lots and lots of hard, dense seeds.
May 24th, 2009 by elie
Subject: update from the mideast
Date: Sun, 13 Jul 2003 09:30:06 -0400
hey friends,
i honestly dont think ive felt this happy in years. im in a place where i belong and im having an incredible time. its so real and unbelievable at the same time. i never understood those ppl who go to israel and never return, but im starting to now… i have one year left at [university], and its gonna fly… im starting to look at grad school here next week. ive spoken to a lot of people, americans, about how theyre experience in making aliyah was. im coming to know better its going to be hard - its not just a dream - last night i had a mini freak out when i realized how much i would miss crazy snow and new york city… seems small, but its a big deal. i thought about leaving my family and u guys and, yeah, itll be really hard - i grew up with many of u from the start, some of u are newer but the thought of not really getting the full chance to get to know each one of u makes me feel empty and careless. but as i was looking out at the entire ’skyline’ of jerusalem from the top of talpiot, i realized theres no where else to be. for me. for lots of other ppl too, but right now, for me. i get sad thinking about americans and why they dont move here. its a hard thing though. leaving everything. house, car, job, family, shul, youth.steady paycheck and the garantee ull get to work that day. theres lots to get used to, and since im ‘low maintence’ in a way - kal vchomer everyone else… i mean who knew air conditioning was a luxury…
if it was doable, i dont think i would go back to ny. i know its only been 2 weeks for me, and i know i have things to finish back at home, and i know irrational staying here is stupid, so no worries for u. its just, ive completely opened my heart to all these new possibilities surrounding me here, and in life, and i dont think ive ever felt so complete, except for being in love, and again i find myself in love, but here, and like all relationships, this one has its hard, heart-hurting pulls, like the fact that im leaving my immediate family and friends behind, at least physically… it tears at me. i hope u dont think ur not enough for me, or the community some of u have given me in america isnt good enuf - no, i guess ive never felt completely accepted into the ny jewish community, or perhaps i never accepted them totally either, but i did have a great time and i love those of u who made it so much better than it could have been as a baal tshuvah… u know who u are…
well i guess thats all kind of heavy and i wasnt going to write all that actually… but my heart is weighing with excitement, happiness, anxiety and sadness, and i wanted u all to know where i stand.
ive been keeping safe, no worries. i have my very own plan for where to sit on the bus and how to react to being blown up types of problems. became friends with a medic. u know, just in case.
and i could def get used to this tan way of life.
im sure i have lots more to say but im at work (Jerusalem Post) and need to write about crap bec they dont realize how brilliant i am… i should be covering sharon’s trips to the bathroom, not puppet festivals. ha.
i love u all, please have a great summer! im going to be home sooner than we realize… gulp, cant wait…
love,
me
April 7th, 2009 by elie
Ah, the good old days. Pesach celebrated with the family back in America. My grandmother’s Sephardi dishes, my brothers’ haggadah-reading entertainment.
And of course, who could hold an American Pesach seder with the family without this gem of an experience:
Kedem grape juice! I know plenty of American olim who claim that it’s better than any of the all-natural stuff they have here. Though I think not.
Interested in reliving this American tradition? I found these bottles at a supermarket in - you guessed it - Efrat.
March 27th, 2009 by elie
Today we volunteered at a ’shuk kach-ten’ - kind of a giant yard sale where you bring junk and take other people’s junk. It was at the elementary school in Tzur Hadassah.
It was also the first time I have entered an Israeli school while it was in session. Kids running everywhere. Not unlike my own elementary school days… just, the screeching, laughing and taunting were in Hebrew.
I looked around at all these kids and their parents and their teachers… It’s absolutely true that the culture of education - and more importantly, the culture of schools - in Israel is completely different than what a lot of us Anglos grew up with. You could say here it is… without… certain elements we were raised to value.
After exiting the building quite bewildered, I went up to my husband and posed the following: “What the %#@! were we thinking having a child in Israel? Do you realize we are those immigrant parents? Elementary school was bad enough for me in English… How is my kid going to survive in this with me as a mom?”
March 6th, 2009 by elie
I’m covered in dust as I write this from the depths of old documents, yellowed papers, stacks of ancient bills. Call it spring cleaning, call it nesting, call it what you will but I have managed to set aside three cartonim of dead trees to recycle.
What’s super fun about doing something like this - in what is probably the first time since I’ve had a teudat zehut - is the fact that I get to find all the bits and pieces that mark my time in Israel as an olah. Cards from well wishers, that intro packet they give you from the Ministry of Absorption, the first apartment contract (ah, rechov Lamed Hey…).
It’s all flashing before my eyes on old crinkly papers: my first Israeli bank account, my first Orange bills, subsequently my first Cellcom bills (what self-respecting Israeli would only have one phone contract?), my university application. Contracts from my first job here, updated contracts from my first job here. Bar Ilan schedules and Bar Ilan bills. Minhal Studentim letters and ishurs and then the faxes pleaing for more money from Minhal Studentim.
Did I mention Bar Ilan notebooks and Bar Ilan finals schedules and Bar Ilan student ID cards and Bar Ilan assignments?
My Israeli life on paper seems to have been fairly active so far. Getting here, opening accounts, applying for jobs and internships, signing housing and job contracts, organizing trips abroad and health insurance, working on a second degree, planning a wedding, proving my Judaism in order to get married, owning a dog, continuing to work on a second degree, getting pregnant. I’ve been jobless and homeless and directionless and I’ve been hard-working and studious and settled down. City life, suburbia. Single, married. Student, employee.
While there have been many chapters to my aliyah so far, I do feel like this is the beginning of a truly new and fresh chapter; perhaps this is a ‘Part II’. Everything before has been about me and my perspective, whether on my own or as part of a relationship, and from here on in, well, life in Israel - the good, the bad, the scary - will be shaped by the existence of a unit far greater in value than just me.
Next up: Israeli family life.
December 30th, 2008 by elie
Since motzei Shabbat, I, like everyone else, have been watching as Gaza, the news and - at least my - inbox have exploded.
And by inbox, I really mean all forms of electric communication. I’m getting messaged, emailed, SMS’d, tweeted: Help organize food and supplies to Israeli border towns! Host a family from the south! Support the soldiers being sent to Gaza!
Then there’s another kind of message I’m receiving as well: It’s the outside-of-Israel perspective on help and support. It’s rallies outside of the UN or protests at pro-Palestinian events. It’s the kind of action only an (American-minded) campus/non profit/lobbyist organization can provide. It’s political. It’s edgy. It’s intense in its own way.
I used to be a part of that world, about four years ago now. I helped organize. I attended. I prepared materials, talking points. Summoned students to rallies.
And now I’m here. Watching it from afar; watching from inside. Some things are the same, some are different. I can see how right wing and left wing people are on the outside. How political. How partisan.
It’s not as clear cut here I think; not to the average person, anyway… Sure we have our opinions on what should be done - some of us are right wing, some of us are left wing. Many of us are in the center, trying to think of what’s best for everyone.
But we also live in border towns or we watch our coworkers’ sons and husbands get ’shipped’ out. We call up family members from the south and offer refuge in our homes. We drive to work a different way, to avoid passing through machsomim and Arab towns. We think twice when joking about the food and blankets we keep in the ma’amad.
We wonder how far it’ll reach and if it’ll reach us, all the way out here.
We know that whether we believe one thing or another, we’re here. We’re in it. So support has to be more tangible. We have to feel it in ourselves. We support our fellow citizens, our family down south, our friends in the army. But we also support ourselves.
Otherwise, how would we still live here?
August 19th, 2008 by elie
I’m in New York City for the next three weeks.
On one stretch, between my office on 35th to the bus on 42nd, I hear not one - not two - but three Hebrew conversations.
I get on the bus, there’s a six pack of hard lemonade in my seat; former passenger leftovers. I drop everything and carry it over to the bus driver. Then I walk back to my seat and feel guilty that if it’s laced with explosives, I just killed him.
Yeah, that never gets old.
August 12th, 2008 by elie
Last night I got to be the family member who picks up my cousin’s sick kid from a camping trip near my house.
Basically, I have Israeli cousins up north, and they sent their daughter on a youth movement camping trip which was located about 15 minutes from my place. She had called them late last night, complaining she didn’t feel well. They called me and asked if I minded picking her up and letting her stay over.
Of course I obliged; if you’re an oleh with Israeli friends/family who have done nothing but taken care of you since you arrived, all you want to do is repay them. Often I’m told to “pay it forward,” which I do, but it is so nice when you can really prove how settled you are by doing favors for the same people who took you in at the beginning.
It was also kinda fun to be the adult family member to sign out the minor. I felt like an authority. Plus they all called me “doda” which made me feel old, but in a cool, hip, young aunt kind of way.