January bulletin article
It’s January, and I have reached a crossroads in time. Halfway through my year in Israel, I’m beginning to look toward coming back to the United States, and I find that I have mixed feelings. The United States is the land of my mother, my community, and my native tongue. Israel is the land of my father, my adopted community, and my second language. And after six months of living in Jerusalem, I’m realizing that Israel is no less a home to me than California.
Come June, I will be glad to leave the niggling threat of violence behind, the constant construction, and the awful telephone customer service. I won’t miss the religious sexism, the fact that Israelis can’t drive within the lanes, and the lack of decent vegetable stew.
On the other hand, there are quite a few things that I will miss, things that make Israel home, not merely a way station on the path to becoming a rabbi. Here is but a portion of my list:
- The quaintness of hanging clothes out to dry. I take the clothes in from the line and feel as though I’ve stepped back in time; I’m my own great-grandmother, pulling the white sheets in from outside and casting worried glances at the cloud-filled sky.
- Israeli breakfasts. Forget about pancakes, waffles, muffins, and all those other carbs – that’s purely American. When I order an Israeli breakfast, I feast on vegetable salads, eggs, whole wheat bread, three kinds of cheeses (mmm Bulgarit, kind of like feta) and orange juice. Even the hot chocolate after the meal is different - it’s hot milk with pieces of real chocolate at the bottom of the mug.
- The sound of different languages. Every day I hear passersby on the street speaking Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, English, and very often French. In the LA area, as diverse as it is, I usually only hear English and Spanish.
- The ability to stop by the Old City for lunch, or for some quick shopping at the shuk. The shrieks of the vendors reverberate in your ears: need an extra tapestry for your wall? A battered clay recreation of a second-century oil jug? Some ripe persimmons or freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice? Hop on into the Arab market, and pray at the Kotel on your way home.
- Movies with intermissions. In high school I once made the mistake of drinking a large Coca-Cola before seeing Titanic. It was the longest movie of my life - if only I’d been in Israel!
- Living in a small town in the midst of a huge city. We’re an entire nation, but with the feel of a tiny town. Last week, when I got lost walking to my community service, I asked directions from a driver stopped at a red light. Instead of simply telling me how to get there, she waved me over to the passenger side, yelled at her daughter to move over in the backseat, and then said “get in!” and drove me to the site four blocks away.
I love both America and Israel, and I realize that both are now my homeland. Israel, and Jerusalem in particular, are no longer strange, far-away lands. Their street names, landmarks, and varied nuances are just as familiar and close to my heart as are the taste of a Razmatazz from the Jamba Juice in the Marina Pacifica Mall, or the tang of strawberries from the stand that used to sit at the busy intersection of Clark, Los Coyotes, and Stearns. My wish for 2007 is that each of you will find your own physical, spiritual, and emotional “home,” and love it as much as I love mine. L’chaim!
I included the picture of Simcha and myself with the caption, "Michal and Simcha, her adopted Israeli cat - part of what makes Israel home."
Come June, I will be glad to leave the niggling threat of violence behind, the constant construction, and the awful telephone customer service. I won’t miss the religious sexism, the fact that Israelis can’t drive within the lanes, and the lack of decent vegetable stew.
On the other hand, there are quite a few things that I will miss, things that make Israel home, not merely a way station on the path to becoming a rabbi. Here is but a portion of my list:
- The quaintness of hanging clothes out to dry. I take the clothes in from the line and feel as though I’ve stepped back in time; I’m my own great-grandmother, pulling the white sheets in from outside and casting worried glances at the cloud-filled sky.
- Israeli breakfasts. Forget about pancakes, waffles, muffins, and all those other carbs – that’s purely American. When I order an Israeli breakfast, I feast on vegetable salads, eggs, whole wheat bread, three kinds of cheeses (mmm Bulgarit, kind of like feta) and orange juice. Even the hot chocolate after the meal is different - it’s hot milk with pieces of real chocolate at the bottom of the mug.
- The sound of different languages. Every day I hear passersby on the street speaking Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, English, and very often French. In the LA area, as diverse as it is, I usually only hear English and Spanish.
- The ability to stop by the Old City for lunch, or for some quick shopping at the shuk. The shrieks of the vendors reverberate in your ears: need an extra tapestry for your wall? A battered clay recreation of a second-century oil jug? Some ripe persimmons or freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice? Hop on into the Arab market, and pray at the Kotel on your way home.
- Movies with intermissions. In high school I once made the mistake of drinking a large Coca-Cola before seeing Titanic. It was the longest movie of my life - if only I’d been in Israel!
- Living in a small town in the midst of a huge city. We’re an entire nation, but with the feel of a tiny town. Last week, when I got lost walking to my community service, I asked directions from a driver stopped at a red light. Instead of simply telling me how to get there, she waved me over to the passenger side, yelled at her daughter to move over in the backseat, and then said “get in!” and drove me to the site four blocks away.
I love both America and Israel, and I realize that both are now my homeland. Israel, and Jerusalem in particular, are no longer strange, far-away lands. Their street names, landmarks, and varied nuances are just as familiar and close to my heart as are the taste of a Razmatazz from the Jamba Juice in the Marina Pacifica Mall, or the tang of strawberries from the stand that used to sit at the busy intersection of Clark, Los Coyotes, and Stearns. My wish for 2007 is that each of you will find your own physical, spiritual, and emotional “home,” and love it as much as I love mine. L’chaim!
I included the picture of Simcha and myself with the caption, "Michal and Simcha, her adopted Israeli cat - part of what makes Israel home."
posted by Michal at 12:33 PM
3 Comments:
Since I came to Israel 30 years ago I discovered that when you ask an Israeli for directions, they're apt to tell you: Go two blocks, turn left where the Oran Theatre used to be, go two more blocks and turn right where the Delek Gas Station used to be..... Michal, when you talk about strawberries from the "stand that used to be" at that busy corner, I realize how Israeli you have become in six months!!!!!
yer Savta
LOL you're right! I hadn't even thought of that!
Do you think Simcha is bilingual?
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