Big Picture Award Friday, Feb 5 2010 

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Coen Brothers, A Serious Man

Dear Into Israel Readers,

The 2010 Oscar nominations were announced this week, and drum roll please, A Serious Man, is up for Best Picture.  I loved, loved, LOVED this movie.

Now, it has no chance of winning, ain’t gonna happen, none whatsoever.  The odds that it could win are about the same as the chance that there could be Peace in Israel by Purim.

That’s really okay with me, because I don’t pay a lot of attention anymore to the Oscars.  It I were running the show, I would create a new category named, Big Picture.  Make no mistake about it; the highly talented Coen Brother’s, A Serious Man, would definitely win this year’s Big Picture Academy Award!

If it were not for the fact that this year the Academy decided to nominate 10 movies in the Best Picture category, it wouldn’t be on the roster at all; it wouldn’t have made the cut.  So, how then, and more importantly why, did it get nominated in the Best Picture category?  The reason is that A Serious Man is a seriously good movie.  I haven’t seen any of the others, well, I tried to watch a little of Up in the Air, but was bored so I stopped it, and never went back to it. Yet I suspect that A Serious Man is the best of the bunch.

The Academy and its members cannot give the Oscar for Best Picture to A Serious Man, and to explain that in depth is complicated.  Just suffice it to say that this would not be an example of a dark horse Indie movie coming from behind to win, which has, of course, in the past occurred.

What is unusual is that it wasn’t nominated for anything else, such as Best Actor/Actress, Cinematography, Directing, etc., till the Writing—Original Screenplay category.  So the film was nominated in the Best Picture and Writing categories, and from the title we know it’s about a man, who was in virtually every scene, yet this amazing actor, Michael Stuhlbarg, wasn’t nominated for Best Actor.  It doesn’t make sense, but then again it does, but that goes back to the complications that exist in Hollywood.

I’m continually astonished when I meet someone here in Israel that his or her English is so good.  When I comment to them that their English is quite proficient, their reply is “Oh no, it’s not really.”   But it is, dear Into Israel readers, Israelis speak excellent English, and they learn it from American movies and television shows.   Actually, they learn it in school as a second language, and they perfect it from American movies.

American media is cycling and streaming around the globe, it is one of the United States leading exports.  I know most of you know this, especially those of you who have traveled, but you don’t really get the impact of this until you live abroad.

As I walk along my pathways in Jerusalem, I sometimes wonder what it would be like if a handful of America’s exceptional Jewish filmmakers could make their way here to live and to work.  That this would be their home.  Israel’s film community is growing; this is the third year counting that Israel has a nomination in the Best Foreign Film category; this year for Ajami.  Israel needs these gifted American filmmakers to join the ranks to take the Israeli film expertise to the next level.

When I was in film school in Austin, at The University of Texas, I developed a schoolgirl crush on Steven Spielberg.  We were both young then so it seemed innocent, and since we never met it remained an on again off again unrequited infatuation till finally it was transferred one day out of the blue to a real love that came to me in the form of a handsome director of Jewish documentaries, who was also an interviewer for the Shoah project.

Still, one never forgets those early loves, and so it was with utter delight when I learned of Mr. Spielberg’s recent decision to produce a new reality TV series at Shaarei Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem.  No, he’s not moving here, but yes, his production company is coming and filming here.  It’s a beginning.  Maybe, Woody Allen will not be far behind him, and even one day, Ethan and Joel Coen.

Naturally, the Big Picture Life Achievement award goes to none other than God, who has complete control of our life, yet also gives us free will.  I once saw a movie that probably left the greatest impression of any movie of my life, yet I barely can remember the plot!

I saw the movie during HemisFair ‘68.  Located on each armrest of every seat in the theater was a panel with two red buttons.  From what I can recall, in the first scene there was a man and a woman talking and walking over to a taxicab.  As they approached the door to the cab the movie stopped, and then asked the audience to choose whether the man would get into the cab with the woman—Button A, or not to choose to get into the cab—Button B.

The results were tallied before our eyes on a big screen with red buttons flashing.  If Button B had more results, then the movie switched to the man not getting into the cab and walking away.  They had edited different scenarios; hence it could proceed differently, pending each new audience’s selections.  This process continued throughout the film.

Thus each scene would start then stop, the audience would be asked to make a choice, the results were counted, and then the movie would start again.  When the movie was finished the producer walked out to talk to us, and explained that it didn’t matter what direction the movie took with each individual audience, because there was only one first scene and one last scene.

The intended outcome was always known by the filmmakers.  It’s intricate for us to see God’s Big Picture for us when we stay focused on the here and now.  Don’t forget this when you are watching the first scene in A Serious Man, and by all means, don’t dismiss this for your life!

Lights, Camera & Action,

Barbara

 

LAND OF MILK & HONEY Saturday, Jan 30 2010 

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Rugelach at the Marzipan Bakery in The Shuk

Dear Into Israel Readers,

I’ve been looking forward to this post for sometime, and now that the time has arrived, I’m not so sure.  I will explain momentarily.  I love the food in Israel.  It is outrageously ta’im—tasty, and I usually eat at home.

I have never seen a fast-food, drive-through restaurant here.  Maybe, they are here somewhere; I just haven’t seen them.  Tiny pizza and felafel enterprises are numerous, and when I’m up near King George Street or down in the German Colony, I sometimes stop in for a felafel or shawarma.

Ultra Fresh Produce!

The produce is fresh, actually quite fresh.  When I went on the bus to Haifa, I was shocked at the banana fields, just rows and rows, and acres and acres of bananas.   These bananas taste like the way a banana is supposed to taste.

Ultimate Organic Bananas

Then there’s the hummus, especially the hummus from Abu Tor.  I know I will never be able to eat the hummus from Central Market or Whole Foods ever again, both grocery stores I love.  And miss, oh, I miss them so very much!  But I don’t miss their hummus, no way, never again, not now!  There, the hummus tastes like some form of mashed potatoes hummus.  The one from Abu Gosh is smooth and creamy with oil and chickpeas floating on top.  It melts in your mouth, just melts, dear Into Israel readers.

They bring the right from the oven bread in on trays!

If I time it right at one of the multitude of bakeries in Jerusalem, the whole-wheat pita is hot from the oven, the steam still escaping from it.  Once I have my base of pita and hummus, I can stuff it with a variety of veggies.

Everyone in Jerusalem goes to The Shuk.  Maybe not every week, but they go.  I am convinced both Whole Foods and Central Market patterned their stores after Jerusalem’s Shuk.

The Shuk probably has on any given day the highest concentration of Jews from every background all squeezed in together more than any other place in the world!

It is a large, crowded, noisy market selling everything, as in everything Kosher.  It’s an outing for me to go to The Shuk, and when I just want to pick up a few things I walk over to a more traditional grocery store like the Super Deal down by the old train station.

The last time I was at Central Market, they didn't have Kippahs for sale!

I had wanted to do a Food post for quite awhile, and exactly the day I planned to begin this post, I received a Path of the Just post from Rabbi Feldman, and this post was all on how we really shouldn’t to be so concerned with food and eating.  I love food, I love eating, and I love watching cooking shows, so I reread the post several times in hopes that perhaps I could spin the words to my advantage, my love of food advantage.   I thought.  I pondered.  I deliberated with a cool dish of ice cream topped with walnuts and Israel’s delectable whipped cream.  Yes, this is truly the land of milk and honey.  The dairy products are so incredible.  The chocolate milk, the sour cream, the cheeses, the yogurt …

Halvah, a national obsession, one must have a super sweet tooth for this!

Yet what Rabbi Feldman is saying is that we shouldn’t be so consumed by food that it takes time and energy away from our spirituality, and I do relate to that as I was spending too much time concocting meals.  My kitchen didn’t come with an oven for Kashrut reasons, so I had bought a small convection oven that Aaron carried home for me when he was here, and I was enjoying baking ta’im dishes.

Steam your Artichokes and serve with 1 part Israeli Lemon infused Olive Oil, 1 part melted Butter, and Kosher Salt to taste!

Now I will strive to keep my food simple, and not be “seduced by its so-called pleasures,” as Rabbi Feldman states.  I will limit my Rugelach intake.  This will be difficult, as the Rugelach has been known to seduce me so much that Lauren has told me to step away from it!

Tov Appetit,

Barbara

Looking Up

 

DÉJÀ VU Saturday, Jan 23 2010 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

In the beginning, when I first arrived in Jerusalem, everything was so new.  Even for at least the first two months, I was still a bit disoriented.  I was experiencing Déjà vu, and I could not for the life of me figure out why, so I tended initially to dismiss it.  When it did hit me where the Déjà vu was emanating from, I was very surprised.  It was Mississippi.

Every plot line that could possibly generate a great short story, play or novel is encompassed in such dramatic and heightened orchestration in Mississippi. There is a sense of intrigue, of mystery, behind the shuttered windows and hushed voices.  As a result, the state has produced some of the country’s most beloved authors.  It was this sense of intrigue, that Israel most definitely has as well, that was my first association.

My father, Bobby, my paternal grandfather, George, and his father, my great grandfather, Samuel, were all born in the Delta, after my great-great grandfather, George Roth, from the Alsace Lorraine landed in New Orleans, and then moved up the mighty river to Mississippi.  He had met his wife, my great-great grandmother, Permilla Roth, whom I’m named after, on the boat over, or so the story goes.

My kind paternal grandmother, Ethel Jane Smith, was from Smith County that is in south Mississippi.  So between the Delta and south Mississippi, I am related one way or another to a lot of folks in Mississippi!

My Grandparents, Mississippi, 1919

You hear and read about the different factions here in Israel, and indeed, they do exist on political and religious observance levels.  Yet, aside from these different factions, there is closeness.  You feel it on the streets, in the buses, and everywhere you go.  I felt very loved as a child in my grandparent’s home, and for some unknown reason, this sensation has stirred within me here in Israel.  I feel loved.

I really don’t know if they are indigenous or not, but pine trees cover the hills surrounding Jerusalem.  They are in my back courtyard and along the sidewalks.  Pine trees appear to have been planted all over the country.  Hello, Mississippi.

In Itta Bena, there was a small grocery store around the corner from my grandparent’s house in the uptown section of the town.  Whenever my grandmother needed something, she rang on the phone to place her order, and then a boy on a bicycle soon dispatched the package.  The small grocery store across my street reminds me of this.  Here, the delivery men sit outside and drink coffee and wait for the goods they will take to their customers in Talbiyeh.

Especially in my childhood days, Itta Bena shut down on Sunday.  Everyone, or so it seemed, was religious.  They went to church in the morning, had a big meal at noon, took a nap, and then later they visited their kinfolk or friends.  In Jerusalem, it is 2010 (actually 5770) and not 1968, it is Shabbat and not Sunday, it is Judaism and not Christianity, but it is exactly the same.

Then, there is also the issue of the separation of people.  In Mississippi, it was the separation of races.  Here, it is between Jews and Arabs.  The feeling was then, and is now, that all will be good and well if you respect your designated boundaries.

As I sit and ponder over this, in the end my Déjà vu may have nothing to do with Mississippi, and could rather be Mexico.  After all, I just heard the other day that Israel is basically a Sephardic country.  So perhaps it has to do with my childhood visits to my maternal Abuelita in Texas, or to my Tias’ homes in Mexico.  They were all very pretty, and very demanding!  Sounds a lot like Israel, too, doesn’t it!

Shalom Y’all!

Barbara

For information about Mississippi and southern Jews visit-

The Museum of the Southern Jewish Experience

Temple Beth El in Lexington, Mississippi that was just down the road from Itta Bena

 

MY JERUSALEM Sunday, Jan 17 2010 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

Very soon after I had arrived in Jerusalem, a new group for English writers, Writers in Jerusalem, was forming and I went to the first meeting to check it out.  I thought it would be a good idea since I was both posting Into Israel, and it would provide me an opportunity to meet people.  In our monthly meetings at the historic Tmol Shilshom, we provide samples of our work and then the group critiques them.

This past Wednesday we moved to Sam’s Bagels that has a sizable upstairs seating area that looks down on the popular pedestrian street Ben Yehuda, because we invited some well-known authors to join us, and we expected a larger attendance.  Indeed, we had a full turnout, and it turned into a wonderful evening.

I had deliberated on what to share for this special occasion, and in the end, I decided to write a poem.  I had written it as a Word document, but right before I left when I went to print it, I decided to quickly handwrite it instead.  I was searching for a piece of paper, and I came upon an envelope from a card someone from Austin had sent me.  It had taken three attempts for the card to reach me, so I wasn’t too keen on throwing away even the envelope.  I cut open the envelope and wrote it on the inside.

My Jerusalem

I could never leave you, now, my Love

Now that I have held you so close

Now that you have swept me up in your winds

I have walked your streets till I was weak and weary

I have wept in your parks till I felt your forgiveness

I have been stunned and arrested at your reclusive beauty

So my Love is now eternally forever

Precious and Pure, you will soon know the

Peace you seek, your Destiny, your Hope

United, our Love, will hold unbroken

Lo, I will neither leave nor be far away again.

When I got up to introduce myself, I inquired of the crowd if anyone was from Texas.  The audience was quiet, and then one woman said “I was in Dallas for a while.  Does that count?”  I shook my head to say, I’m sorry, no.  Be that as it may, I chatted on how I was in Love with Jerusalem, and like any new relationship, I was in Stage 1 Love.  A very pretty woman came up to me afterwards and told me she was touched by my poem, and that she had made Aliyah 11 years ago, and still was in love!

Certainly I have my own thoughts about love and relationships, and maybe one day I will write about these reflections.  For now, though, I want to share something remarkable regarding my Hebrew studies.

When I was a child at Northwood Elementary School, I always struggled with my handwriting.  It was difficult for me to connect the letters, and my hand hurt after writing.  Most likely I have Dysgraphia, yet at any rate, the moment I was no longer graded on penmanship, the letters flew apart and have remained that way to this very day.

During High School I took a summer course in Shorthand to compensate for this ache and to assist me in my note-taking, and for some reason that I can’t recall, I remember laughing a lot in the class.  It is still very difficult for me to handwrite anything lengthy, and I always prefer to type it.

That is, till I learned Hebrew script.  The cursive letters are not connected; they are made for me, or rather, the other way around.  I love to sit at my table and write; I need no incentive to practice.  My hand never throbs.  I take the circulars that come in the mail that are written in the script form, and copy them word for word.  When someone sees my writing they always ask, “Did you write that?”

I am eager to know just what I am writing, so I have increased my vocabulary knowledge much more than if I wasn’t doing these exercises, and that has lead to a higher reading comprehension.  Now, hopefully, the part of this arduous journey, fluent speaking, is not too far away.  I’ll keep y’all informed …!

Shalom,

Barbara

 

The Pursuit Sunday, Jan 10 2010 

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We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

From the second sentence of the Declaration of the United States, July 4-1776

Ah, that fleeting emotion of Happiness we seek to find, and when we do, we attempt to hold on tightly to it.  It has been written, that as Americans, this is our Right.  So lives are spent trying to obtain Happiness, never fully understanding that being happy is an emotion, and emotions, by their very nature, come and go.

So, I beseech you, my dear Into Israel readers, to ask what Rights our Creator truly endowed us with, and what, just what, should be your true Pursuit?

United States    The Pursuit of Happiness

Eretz Yisrael     The Pursuit of Hashem

Navigation

 

ISRAEL IS THE NEW ITALY Thursday, Dec 31 2009 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

This is a special post, and one that I hope you will enjoy and share.  It’s my end of the year post, and I wish you all a very Happy New Year.  I appreciate so much your encouraging words you have written and spoken to me about my Aliyah and Into Israel.  They have touched me deeply.

I wish I could be there in Texas, if just for a moment, to share in your New Year celebrations.  If I could, I would be with my BFF’s from Temple in San Antonio at a quaint bistro laughing away the hours, or with my family partying down in Port Aransas, or at the Bocachica in Austin with Stephanie as she lights the bonfire while Fred, Majau, and the gang fan the flames, or hidden in a Hill Country cabin with a guy I am in love with, but I can’t, because I am here, and here is where I’m supposed to be, and my upmost hope is for you to come and visit me here. So, let’s get the show on the road; I’m off to an Anglo Party!

Ahavah with all my Heart,

Barbara

Israel is a romantic country endowed with sweeping vistas, charming villages, a Mediterranean coastline, and canyons, caves and waterfalls in the Negev. Italy may have Florence and Pisa, but Israel has Zikhron Ya'akov and Safed. After all, it was the Roman Empire that wanted this Land, and not the other way around. Mystical and mesmerizing, you can't help but fall in love with Israel.

Italy may have Vatican City that dates back to the 1st century CE, but Israel has the Old City from before the 11th century BCE. Here, you will find key Jewish, Muslim, and Christian religious sites, shopping, and cafés that serve dishes with olives and fruits fresh from the hills that surround it.

You can still wear your Capris in Israel. Eilat, perched at the northern tip of the Red Sea, offers camel tours, Bedouin hospitality, scuba diving, bird watching, freefall parachuting, the Eilat Film Festival, and the Coral World Underwater Observatory. With gorgeous beaches and restaurants with food from around the globe, who needs Capri!

So you say, "Yes, but I really want Italian food." Stop, look no further, because Israelis have gone wild for Italian food perfecting it down to the last linguini. The smell of pastas and pizzas stretches from one end of the country to the other. Relax and enjoy fresh baked pizza off a side street vendor or Italian fusion cuisine in the upscale restaurants.

There are so many museums in Israel; her history goes back thousands of years. The sheer number of museums precludes listing them all, but a good reference to study before your trip is ilMuseums.com.

You're now ready to unwind with a nice glass of wine, and Israel abounds in award-winning wineries ranging from boutique operations to large-scale wineries. With a Mediterranean climate like Italy, the Israeli wine industry can be traced to back to Baron Edmond de Rothschild.

With a professional Tour Guide or self-guided, by walking, biking or bus, tours in Israel exist for every location, every desire, every age and everyone. There are Biblical, photographic, biking, bird watching, and hiking tours to name just a few.

No visit to Italy is complete without a cup of their famous cappuccino, and indeed when I had my first cup there, my tour bus waited patiently till I had finished every last sip. I hadn’t tasted a great cappuccino till the day I tasted a cappuccino at Aroma, Israel’s highly loved coffee house with over 73 locations. It was even better than the cup in Italy! Israelis are fanatic about their coffee, and Aroma’s owners take coffee very, very seriously. Photo-Mike Goldberg

Italy has the Colosseum, circa 80 CE; Israel has Masada, circa 37 BCE. The Land of Israel is a treasure of archeological riches from the Neolithic Revolution and the Bronze and Iron Ages to the Classical and Medieval Periods. Archeological and Biblical tours will take you from the pre-historic Carmel Caves to the classical ruins in Caesarea.

The greatest natural Spa in the world is in Israel, the Dead Sea. With its mineral rich water and oxygen rich air, it will be an unforgettable and rejuvenating experience. Both luxury and quality spa packages are available. Or for a more holistic approach, try the warm springs at the aromatic Sea of Galilee, famous since Roman times and a magnet for people all over the world.

If after you’ve toured, eaten and rejuvenated, and are still up for some fun, then there’s Tel Aviv, voted one of the world’s best cities to party in. No, Rome nor Milan, did not make the list. The next afternoon you can always spend a lazy afternoon at the beach, or do a walking tour of the Bauhaus architecture before your trip home.

 

In the Still of Shabbat Saturday, Dec 19 2009 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

The weather finally turned cold and rainy, and it’s that time of the year when all I want to do is cocoon towards home, and make soups.  I made corn chowder for dinner yesterday, and it was pretty good if I say so myself.  I altered a Barefoot Contessa recipe, since of course I wasn’t including bacon.  Sorry about that for all you bacon lovin’ folks, gosh, there’s so many of you.

This coming Monday is a special day for me.  It is not just that my son, Aaron, arrives.  That in and of itself would make it quite festive.  It is also that this is the first time I’ve been in Israel with both of my children present at the same time.  Even though they will be busy, Lauren with school and Aaron with friends, it will be heartening to have both here.

Suddenly as I was finishing that last paragraph I was back to thinking about soups, and then the cold, and my mind was transported to Chili, and I thought yes, I want Chili.  So I quickly emailed Aaron in hopes he will bring me some Chili packets.  Oh my goodness, I have never gone a winter without Chili, so Aaron, if you’re reading this before you leave, please don’t forget the Chili packets.

As soon as I feel a sniffle coming on, I’ll take out my huge pot, and cook chicken soup with matzo balls.  I grind my own matzo meal in the blender, and then I like to stand in the kitchen and roll each matzo ball perfectly to the size I like.  If they are too small and dense, they are not fluffy enough.  If they are too large, they tend to fall apart.  It’s a big production, but one that brings me comfort.

I always serve my soups with fresh bread, and the small grocery store across the street, called a macolet, has a wide assortment of fresh bread, rolls and bagels.  This macolet is one of the things I love about Israel.  Whenever I need anything it is just steps away, about the distance from one side of the Bocachica to the other.

The following is a preliminary list of the things I am fond of about Israel. My apartment in Talbiyeh is perfect for my first year here in Jerusalem.  I finally feel settled in.

The Walk—I like being a part of a pedestrian society.  There are cars everywhere, but people walk here, some for exercise but more just to get where they are heading.

Money—Better known as Kesef!  Yes, Israelis desire money and to have a good job, those are universal goals.  Yet, kesef is the not the definition of success, value or purpose.  They don’t appear driven towards it, but are more impressed by what you do with your money, and rather if you are interesting.  People that don’t even know each other will stop on the street and start talking like long lost friends.  There are no strangers in Israel.  Here is an article about an impressive Israeli.

Design—I love all the Design—Architecture, Art, Fashion, Food and even the Money.

The Beach—I love being so close to the beach, and I want to move even closer.

The Food—The Food is good and fresh; I like cooking and eating here.

Tomatoes from the Green Grocer across the street with my own Vinaigrette

Humor—I laugh more here.  I have moments here of feeling happy and free that I’ve never experienced before.  This combination of freedom and happiness is so acute that I’m quite sure it must be rooted from some desire for escape, be it emotional, physical, or spiritual, most likely a little of all.

Shabbat—I look forward to the stillness and closeness of the 24 hours all around you. It is considered a holiday.  Imagine having one holiday every week.

Shabbat gives greater definition to the rest of the week, too, and perhaps it is what has led me to being happier and laughing more, which in turn made the food taste better. I think I’ll make Tomato Bisque tomorrow.

Shalom,

Barbara



 

Miracle of Miracles Saturday, Dec 12 2009 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

I had so much fun, delightfully, giggly fun, watching all the You Tube high school musicals of Fiddler on the Roof to find one I wanted to post the song Miracle of Miracles for you.  It’s one of those songs that gets stuck in your head, but that’s not a bad thing, to have your head spinning with Miracles.

Yesterday, I defected, and I did it with such ease.  Ulpan Mitchell was having our Chanukah Party, and our Aleph class, was presenting a Dreidel song new to us.  We had broken into four groups, English, French, Spanish and Russian.  Each group was to sing the song in their native language, and then we were to sing it together in Hebrew.  In the class before I had practiced, naturally, with the English group.

The Spanish group consisted of five people from Spain, Peru and Rivkah from Brazil, who also knows Spanish in addition to her native Portuguese, but on the day of the party, three were not there.  Batya had already left to go see her family in Spain.  Across the room, Yoav, the chosen leader, beckoned for me to join them. “Barbara, please come over here,” he said in Spanish, since he speaks no English.

I couldn’t let them down, especially since the English group had plenty of people.  I only speak Spanish in the present tense, as I never could get past all the other tense conjugations, but this was a simple song with just a few lines, and I knew I could do it.

The narrow auditorium with a stage was packed with the classes that go all the way up through Vav.  In our practice session, the four Russian women were really good, the French pretty good, and well, the English group, not so much.  Yoav had us practicing till the moment we went on stage.

It didn’t hurt that I was in the good-looking group, too.  Yoav, from Peru, is dark and debonair and Aliza, who made Aliyah from Miami, is blond and striking and was decked out in a royal blue silk dress.

We went after the French, and we Rocked!  We were the smallest group, but we got the most applause!  Why?  The Russians were more in tune, the French more melodic, and the English had more people, but we had rhythm.  We may have been outnumbered, but we had Soul.

As you light your Chanukiah this Chanukah, let the lights illuminate a path for you to your Soul.  Be still, it is there, but often it is hidden. This year, 5770, record a list of the Miracles in your life.  They are present everyday, and pray, never stop praying, for prayer is your broadband connection to Miracles.

Chag Sameach,

Barbara


 

Rains, Trains and Buses Monday, Dec 7 2009 

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Dear Into Israel Readers,

I’ve just received my first pair of rain boots, a stylish leopard pair.  Now, I can’t wait for the rain, and since fall has arrived, the rainy season is here in Jerusalem, and with it comes the windswept streets and beckoning puddles.

I love walking the streets, usually alone, but I don’t mind as I seldom feel lonely. I’m with my People, and I’m in my Land.  I write the first draft for the Into Israel posts in my thoughts a lot of time on these long walks.

My First Pair of Rain Boots!

Sometimes, though instead of walking, I will take the buses.  Before I moved to Israel, I had never spent a lot of time on buses.  Most likely I will buy a car, but for now I’m enjoying my bus rides.  I recently passed my Driving Test.  I had heard ahead of time the whole process was daunting, but I won’t even attempt to go into it, because you wouldn’t believe me anyway.

When the moment grabs me, I will get on a bus and see where it takes me.  I’ve had some interesting experiences with my carefree excursions as some of these routes twist up into the hills of Jerusalem, and I find myself looking back into town.  I try to block out the homes and vehicles, and wonder what it was like thousands of years ago.

There’s a system for riding the buses, but it doesn’t take long for one to be a pro. Often I select standing versus of sitting on the bus, because I then use the bus as a way of working my upper arm muscles as I stand holding on as the bus swings around a corner.  I really have to hold on tight for dear life, or I might fall into some guy’s lap, heaven forbid.

On My Way Home

Here’s a link to an article about a fascinating new web site a college student created for the Jerusalem bus lines entitled the Jerusalem Bus Map.

There’s a train that runs between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and I’m looking forward to my trip on it soon, as I’ve heard it has breathtaking views.  There is also a train that runs parallel to the coast from Tel Aviv to Haifa.

I may or may not move to Tel Aviv, but it has to be one of my favorite cities to visit. The atmosphere in Tel Aviv with the shops and cafes and Bauhaus architecture, and of course the beach, is young and energizing.  Here, you will see those souls walking along the promenade, older but still fierce and full of life, who built this city from the sand.

The contrast between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem is astonishing.  They are day for night, and it is always dark when I arrive back in Jerusalem after a day in Tel Aviv.

The City of David is a quiet city, waiting, as it holds its breath.  Waiting for the Mashiach, waiting to see where and when the next shoe will drop, its stone walls privately weep in the stillness.

My biggest surprise of Israel is actually her diversity on every level, topographical, cultural, and even religious.  It is a whole world in this small nation, after all. There’s no need to leave, never ever, never again.

Shalom,

Barbara

 

Gates with Thanksgiving Sunday, Nov 29 2009 

1 , , , , , , , , , intoisrael 11:11

Dear Into Israel Reader,

The day started out with such Promise.  I was going to my first wedding in Jerusalem that evening, and it was Thanksgiving.  I was also thinking about you, dear Into Israel reader, wondering about your Thanksgiving with all its preparations.

I got up early to press my long silk skirt I was going to wear that had creased in the shipment.  With it I was going to wear a white silk shirt that I had bought at a boutique in Austin where I had visited with the owner who had just filed for divorce the day I was there.

I had told her that I got along fairly well with my former husband, Alan, but of course, quite naturally, there were some exceptions.  She was hoping that would be the case with her, too, but she had some reservations.  “What were my exceptions,” she had curiously asked?  Always desiring to initially spin the positive, I told her at one point I thought I would lose my mind when our fourteen year old daughter had gone to live with him, but I was now better because I had moved to Austin.  Distance doesn’t always heal, but sometimes, well, it does and in this case it had been a very good decision.

When I told her I lived at the Bocachica, she told me she knew some folks there, and how it was indeed the coolest place in Austin.  I had loved her selections and I was sorry to see that she had gone OOB-out of business before I left.  Even though I had intended to go back to her store, I soon would be focused on my Aliyah, and my budget would then be only for necessities.  With this silk shirt and skirt I was going to wear a black velvet swing jacket and black suede spectator pumps, and lots and lots of pearls.

I had not been anywhere elegant since I had been here, and I was looking forward to one whole day of pampering.  A facial, manicure, lingering steam exfoliating bath followed by a shower with a deep conditioning shampoo and condition were on my beauty treatment list.

Once the hot water button was flipped, all I heard was a Boom, and the apartment went pitch black.  This was not a good sign, and I trepidatiously crept outside the front door in my robe to the breaker box.  I have done a lot of remodeling, and I am no stranger to fixing a thing or two.  With the lights back on, I now went to access the actual problem. Oy, this was really not a good sign, as there was smoke damage all around the hot water button.  It was definitely OOB.

I tried not to panic and thought quickly through my plan of action.  First, I called the condo owner.  Next, I thought to call Alan who was in Israel on business and to see Lauren.  He was also going to the wedding, and I would check if I could shower at his hotel.  No, I thought, cross that off.  So instead I called Rabbi Barry across the hall to ask if I could shower there.

In no time at all, I had showered and a team of people was stationed in my apartment reviewing the situation.  With a cup of coffee in hand, I stood back and listened to the discussion, which was all in Hebrew.  I wished I had been advised, because I would have offered an alternative solution.  I had no idea what they were concocting.

A new water heater was needed, but first the old one had to go.  In the States, that would seem easy enough.  Yank the old one out, and pop the new one in.  This isn’t the States.

The old water heater had been installed horizontally in a crawl space above the bathroom.  The team determined this was lo tov, no good, which in theory was correct.  Yet since the apartment is small, they agreed to install it in the bathroom itself, hanging over a space where a combination washer & dryer could be installed.  Yes, hanging, I now have a hanging water heater!

When I had remodeled my town home on Rue Charles, I had installed a new tank that held a gazillion gallons, so when they brought this baby water heater in, I just laughed.  The head remodeler of the team has assured me that I will have plenty of hot water. We’ll see.

The wedding was an American wedding by Israeli standards.  The parents of the bride and groom are all Americans, and the father of the bride is from San Antonio.  There was no expense spared for this lovely wedding.  I had never been to an Orthodox wedding in Israel, and it differed from what I have known.

As Alan, Lauren and I arrived at the hotel, they were serving stations and stations of food.  We thought this a bit unusual before the wedding, but we were starved so we grabbed our plates.   Since it was Thanksgiving, there was a turkey station with all the fixings of cranberry relish and the best pumpkin pie I have ever had.  I really want that recipe.  There was also a fajita station along with the traditional Israeli foods.  We couldn’t understand this, and didn’t know if this was the dinner or not.  Someone then told us it wasn’t and a full sit-down dinner was to come, so we immediately dropped the forks!

The bride, gorgeous and glowing, came out and greeted everyone, and then she sat on a throne between her mother and future mother-in-law.   The groom, surrounded by the men, danced in and approached her, then lifted her veil.  There was dancing and singing and then everyone proceeded to the chuppah.  After the ceremony was the sit-down dinner followed by more dancing and singing.  I lost track of the courses.

I should have known.  Oh why dear Lord, is hindsight better than foresight?  Thanksgiving + family = stress, a trigger, and with me feeling sensitive.  It has always been that way with me during the holidays.  This was not about the wedding; it was beautiful.  This was not directly about Alan.  These are my issues.  It appears that as soon as I see someone carving a turkey, reactions trip on to the scene.

It took me being here, in Israel, to understand this.  I now know I needed to be so far away physically from where I grew up and was married to peer spiritually and inquire of myself, “What the hell just happened?”

I came home to the plaster and dust from the workmen.  Silk shirt and pearls and all, I curled up on the couch, and prayed to God for what I am Thankful for and petitioned to let the morrow be better.  It was.

Shalom,

Barbara

 

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