New Year, Old City

25 September 2006

The picture of the day, in honor of Mr. G. and what we're not eating:

I write this from the lunchroom of a certain yeshiva that happens to be located above a Mazda dealership, rather than attending yet another class that I likely won't take. With the coming of this new year, I hope to be freed of my nagging desire to take as many classes as I possibly can--this is not high school, after all. So while I can't relax today with a coffee in some lovely cafe, I'll take my few moments to catch up on this rather-neglected blog.

I find myself settling in rather well to Jerusalem, still beset occasionally by bouts of homesickness, but doing my best to make space for myself in this town of overwhelming history. Rosh Hashanah here was very nice, full of new and old friends and synagogues on every corner. i was a bit surprised at the number of cars that I still heard outside of my window--I'm told Yom Kippur here is really the holiday of the bicycle, though not Rosh Hashanah.

One thing the holiday brought out for me was the (perhaps flawed) notion of authenticity: in telling a friend about my RH services where everyone spoke English, we both tossed around the word "authentic." If I've spent most of my ritual time with native English speakers, am I having a less "authentic" Israeli experience? On the one hand, I am here to learn Hebrew, and I'm somewhat frustrated that I'm not speaking more Hebrew in my daily life. But I also feel that American Jewry has really been innovative with forms of Jewish expression in ways that I don't see in "native" Israeli Judaism, particularly in terms of egalitarianism and women's issues. I do want to speak Hebrew during davenning, but not if that means I've no way to participate in the service.

There is also the paradox that Israel is entirely an immigrant society, a gathering place for Jews (and Muslims, and Christians, and foreign workers, but that is another story). While we may idealize a country of sabras, the culture has actually been created by people from all over the world who gave up their native languages and lands to speak Hebrew and become Israeli, a melting part even rawer than the American one. As easy as it is for me to disparage spending time with Anglos as being "inauthentic," I shouldn't pretend that the other ethnic enclaves are any more authentic than my corner of Emek Refaim. And I do love the morality, spirituality, flexibility of American Judaism, where I don't have to be either dati or chiloni but can be somewhere in between.

That said, it's time to begin speaking Hebrew! So far it's been very easy for me to shop classes at the various liberal yeshivot around town. I'm ready to begin working at a social service organization that can use my energy and my skills--and hopefully my Hebrew as well.

One other piece of excitement, on the ritual frame: I had my first tefillin experience the other day, one ritual I've avoided (while shooting longing glances). This may be something to be actualized this year...we shall see. I'm a bit scared to purchase tefillin here--will they be as kind to a woman as the Brookline folks? (See "egalitarianism" above.) Ah well, we shall see.

A sort-of placeholder

20 September 2006

Just a quick note to say Shanah Tovah to all of you. I have been busily studying Talmud, learning about early Zionism, and planning Rosh Hashanah meals here, as well as managing my spotty internet connection. In any case, I am excited for this year of more frequent blogging and good lines of communication with both my stateside and Israel readers.

A first New Year's Resolution: a good update before Yom Kippur. In the meantime, I'd planned to post a picture of camels from my recent early-morning hike in Arad, but I've been unsuccessful (see spotty internet connection, as referenced above). Pics to come soon, I promise.



Update: one more try on the camels...

finally here

3 September 2006

Sorry for being remiss in posting for a while. I got off the plane in Israel and immediately fell into such a jetlag and whirlwind of things to do, it’s been hard to get back on the blog journey. (I am also struggling with the personal/public nature of a blog, which is why very few of you have been given this address yet…all in good time.)

What I’ve managed to do:
• Get a cell phone, at the underground agency for American students. I’ve been given a 1800 number that folks in the States can use to make the call much cheaper—if you want it, let me know.
• Find an apartment. I was pretty committed to living alone, but after seeing a bunch of places both with and without roommates, I decided that I’d have a much easier time, logistically, if I’d take an apartment with a roommate. While learning Israeli society is all well and good, I was not so thrilled about having to call Bezeq and set up the phone line by myself, not to mention buying dishes and chairs and a bed. And while I have not yet moved into my roommate’s home, I must say that I’m looking forward to the companionship as well. I move in a couple of days—I am ready to unpack.
• Join a gym, not as nice as my beloved HW, but totally sufficient for spinning and yoga.
• Buy produce in the Shuk at unbelievably inexpensive prices, and buy toiletries at my local corner drugstore for far too much money. The Shuk has rapidly become one of my favorite places in Jerusalem—rows of produce sellers, spices in large burlap sacks, olives and nuts and dried fruits, bread and pastries, fresh cheeses and not-as-fresh fish, all in the main stalls. In the little side alleys are notions shops, cheap pots and pans and papergoods, Ethiopian grains in unlabeled bags. On Sunday or Monday it’s quiet, calm, sellers smoking over their wares and talking quickly in Iraqi-accented Hebrew. On Friday midday chaos reigns: prices of produce drop rapidly during the day, young children and old Arab women crouch in the aisles at makeshift booths and sell sabra fruit (cactus) and home-pressed olive oil. Some of my friends won’t brave the crowds on Friday; I feel that it’s the only time to authentically feel the rush, Shabbat is almost upon us! And in this season of Elul, occasionally a shofar blast sounds as well.
• Find my way to a minyan that needs my skills, although I’m not sure how much I’ll be willing to reveal myself as a potential organizer. There are only so many days I can make a community go—is this something I want to do this year, help out another startup with my good energy and Torah reading talents? On the other hand, I’ve begun to feel lazy by just sitting and listening each week. Sometime soon, my time will come…
• Learn my way around southern Jerusalem, from Baka to the German Colony, Rehavia up through Nachlaot to the center of town. Still can’t get around the Old City, though—its mess of aggressive sellers and hungry children makes me feel like a rich American, lost in somewhere all of a sudden very foreign.
• Made some friends, maybe? All in good time.

And things to do:
• Learning: one of the missions of this fellowship is to learn some serious Jewish texts in a formal or informal setting. My instinct is to enroll in an organized program of Jewish learning, preferably one where I can recapture some of my Talmud skills. Unfortunately, with the requirements of my fellowship (Thursday meetings), it’s been hard for me to find a class that fits my schedule. Interestingly enough, the classes that fit my schedule are the highest level classes at both P. and CY (two renowned institutions which I am concealing from Google by initials). While I’m a bit nervous at pushing myself into classes that are for people with quite a bit more recent text experience than I have, I’m going to replay the struggle of high school and try to get in to one of these classes. I do hope I’m not overreaching—I always hate to not be the best at something, but I also know it wouldn’t be shameful if I needed to drop down a level. Of course, that’s when Thursdays intervene. In any case, I’ll spend the next two weeks trying classes and then get settled.
• Hebrew language study: after visiting an Ulpan (immersion class for new immigrants), I’ve become more convinced that private tutoring would be a better use of my time. With my day-school background, my holes are more about useful vocabulary than about the grammar that upper-level classes teach. I can conjugate verbs in the future subjunctive, but I don’t know how to ask for change when I give cash for a bill. And mostly what I need is someone to speak Hebrew with me all the time, correct my mistakes, and teach me lots and lots of new words. That said, our fellowship’s regular Hebrew teacher has just absented herself from the program, so I’m on the lookout for a new teacher—I’m concerned but hopeful.
• Community service: perhaps the biggest cipher in the program profile for me. I’ve been calling and meeting with lots of former fellows to talk about their volunteer experiences and getting some ideas and some discouragements. I think I’ll have to narrow down whether I want to use my skills to work towards some sort of big change in society, or whether I’d rather have hands-on experience in my community and help just a few people but in a more direct way. Working with women, in a health-care setting, with children in an resettlement center—all of these possibilities have the ring of goodness but I’m not sure which will be the best for me.

Having all these loose ends flying around is rather irritating for a Myers-Briggs J like me. I’m not used to not having all of my ducks in a row. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that once I get my learning nailed down, other things will follow. I’m ready to wake up in the morning with a schedule and a plan, rather than the ambiguity of the current days. Perhaps when I’m looking ahead towards today and tomorrow, I won’t look back towards home quite so much.

I’ve much more to write—perhaps once I’ve installed internet in my house, I can write about our “community days” and their challenges: how to construct community in thirty-six Thursdays? Talk to you soon.