Homeward Bound

In a few short hours, our car service will pick us up and take us to Ben Gurion Airport for our (long) journey home.  Tel Aviv to Newark to Cleveland.  Almost 6000 miles from apartment to home.

Last Saturday, the girls accompanied Jan and me to services, knowing full well that our friend Moritz would share some nice words with the congregation about it being our last Shabbat with them.  But we got some wonderful words from Rav Gustavo, "אתם חוזרים הביתה.  אבל יש לכם גם בית כאן."  When we traveled up north in October, our tour guide David said something similar, "You'll go back home in December.  But always remember that this is your home too."

Home is a tricky concept.  Is it where your stuff is?  Is it where your family is?  Is it where your mail goes or is it where you feel most comfortable?  The answer to all of these questions could be different but you might still say that they're all home.

One of the questions I know we will be inundated with is "How was your time in Israel?"  There are lots of "easy" answers.

• Jan and I got lots of great work done.
• The girls did really well in their respective schools.
• We had the opportunity to travel and explore Israel: Tzfat (Safed), Caesaria, Nazareth, Tiberius, the Golan Heights, Jerusalem (the Western Wall, the Old City, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Temple Tunnels, Yad Vashem), Hebron, Masada, Ein Gedi, the Dead Sea.
• We (re)connected with people: Josh, Katja, Mort, Gili, Amos, Miriam.
• We made new friends: Moritz, Ava and Arnon, Sherri, Mallory and Douglas, Charlie and Janet, the owner of "The Green Onion", the guys at Falafel Nonna, Doreen, Karen and family, Julie and family... 

But I think that we experienced a second home of sorts.  We "lived" Israel for 5 months, insofar as we could.  This was our country for a while.  We cheered the country's successes and lamented its failures.

No country is perfect -- not the one we're leaving and not the one we're flying to.  But a home isn't always perfect.  It's flawed, sometimes more that we'd like.  But it's still our home, a place to rest our head, a place to share memories with loved ones, and a place to kick up your feet and feel comfortable.

If our girls get nothing else out of this 5 month experience, I hope it's this -- just like you can be yourself in Oberlin, so too can you be yourself in Israel.  Celebrate your Jewish heritage through Shabbat, the holidays, and historical sites that are upwards of 3000 years old.  Remember the people who came before you and made it possible for you to explore this wonderful place.

I know that I'll never forget the opportunity to work remotely for 5 months and I will be eternally grateful to Manuel and Tom for helping to make this happen.  I don't know that I'll ever have the opportunity to do something like this again but I'm glad that I took advantage of it and explored, practiced my Hebrew, climbed Masada (again), and found another place that I can call home.

One Final Tourist Weekend

There are some things that almost everyone who visits Israel tries to do (depending on their religious affiliation): The Western Wall, Bethlehem, Nazareth, the Dome of the Rock, wanderings in the Old City of Jerusalem.  With mere hours to spare before we leave, we managed to hit on three big ones: Yad Vashem, Masada, and the Dead Sea.  I am privately referring to it as our "Trip of Death."

Yad Vashem is Israel's Holocaust Museum.  The name loosely means "Know the Name," a reference to the fact that the goal is to have people see the human side to one of the 20th century's great atrocities.  Our visit there was almost a non-starter.  We had booked a private guide, figuring the s/he would be able to tailor the tour to our family.  We knew that you had to be 10 to enter.  So we told the girls that we were going to lie about their age.  What we didn't know is that when we checked in, they wanted documentation of their age -- passport, ID, anything.  Quick thinking Dad that I am, when they asked for the girls' birthdate, I said, "June 4, 2009" to which they replied, "I give them permission."  If only proving age was that easy anywhere else...

There is no doubt that Yad Vashem is depressing.  It has to be, for it tells briefly of Jewish life in Europe before World War 2, shows how their situation changed dramatically, and highlights all of the evils that were inflicted upon them.  You can't help but be sad, morose, depressed, select-your-favorite-synonym-here.

But there's more.  There are memorials and remembrances of those who worked hard, at risk of their own lives, to save Jews.  The memorial on the right is to Janusz Korchak, a Polish-Jewish educator who was the director of an orphanage -- he did everything he could to save the children but when he couldn't he was there to comfort them in their last days.  There is also the Garden of the Righteous, a tree-lined passageway dedicated to all of the Europeans who did what they could to save the Jews.

It was hard to tell how Gabi and Alice were impacted by this but they were quieter than normal during the tour.  I suspect some of it sank in but only time will tell how much.

How do we move on from Yad Vashem?  By having a 2am wake-up and taking a bus 90 minutes to Masada.  Masada is atop 400 meter high mesa in the desert.  It was the site of a Herodean fortress from around the year 0.  And it was the site of a mass suicide pact by Jews who holed up after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70 CE - rather than give in to the Roman and be their slaves, the Jews decided to die by their own hands.  Pretty gruesome.

There are 3 ways up: cable car, the snake path (so-called for it's switchback, winding path), and the Roman siege ramp (you walk up the ramp that the Romans build to get to the Jews atop Masada).  The snake path may be the most famous and it's the one we took.  50 minutes to get up.  Lots of panting and strong, fast heart beats.  And sweating when we were done, even though it was about 50 degrees.  But it was all worth it for this view at approximately 6:30am.

Absolutely spectacular and absolutely worthy every aching bone and screaming muscle in our bodies.

Last stop on the "Tour of Death": the Dead Sea.  It's the lowest point on Earth, 430 meters below sea level.  It is so salty that nothing lives in it.  There are signs posted that remind you not to rub your eyes, not to drink the water, that if you do swallow water you need to immediately see a lifeguard, etc.  It's hard to avoid getting a drop somewhere close to your lips and I can attest to the water being saltier than anything I've ever tasted.  Take the ocean and multiply by 100 or more.

Everyone who has been told about the Dead Sea hears that you can't sink.  The water is so salty that you can't help but float.  Alice and Gabi weren't sold and took way too long to try for themselves, but they did eventually get the hang of it and seemed to have a good time.

Yeah, they're the typical tourist pictures at the Dead Sea but we were playing tourists for a couple of days and needed to do the typical tourist thing.  But boy did the showers later in the day feel good.

December in Ra'anana

Just as it was stunning and nice to be in Israel for our major holidays this Fall for practical reasons like schools being canceled, stores being closed, and everyone having the day off, it's remarkable in a similar way to be here in December. There's no Christmas presence.

Ok... there's a little at Helen's school, the American School, for all of the embassy families who are a religious minority in Israel. But that's it.

The keyboard player outside the Mega grocery store? Playing a Hanukkah medley. (I only caught the cadence of Judas Maccabaeus, sorry!)

flimsy menorahs

cheap menorahs

The Muzalim "junk" store? Super flimsy menorahs for 3 shekels (about a buck). Less flimsy ones for 25 shekels (7ish bucks)

expensive menorahs

The Judaica stores? They've moved their menorah wares up. (hundreds of shekels)

sale rack...  no red, no green....

The outdoor sales racks at Parisian clothing stores? Normal beautiful clothes with no special colors standing out.

sufganiyot

The bakeries? Sufganiyot (a Hanukkah treat) and not a scent of peppermint to be found anywhere.

Ra'anana is just as pretty as ever with its main street, Ahuza, lit up after dark. But no Christmas twinkle lights.

Don't get me wrong, I truly like Christmas--the memories, the smells, the music (well, most of the music), my friends' and family's pictures, Christmas cards, and the general joy that gets passed around. I love being invited to people's homes to decorate trees, cookies, etc.

What I don't like about Christmas is watching my kids feel like outsiders because of our lack of house decorations and music concerts with songs everyone knows but them. This is a result of choices Josh and I have made about what I hear Jewish moms calling the "December Dilemma." Jews make a wide range of choices on what to do about December, and our choice has been to have no Christmas in the house.

I am grateful to our school district for handling religious holidays so much better than many/most school districts in America. I have read some horrible stories from other moms this December: letters to Santa as homework, Christmas spirit week, etc. Oberlin SD isn't perfect (I'll never forget the Parent/Teacher conferences that were rescheduled on Yom Kippur and subsequent the lack of follow through from SD administrative leadership with our family), but we are lucky to have a SD --and especially the Oberlin teachers-- that works actively to practice religious inclusion and is open to suggestions.

Even though I like the Christmas experience, it's such a relief this year to not be a religious minority. I don't have to decide how to respond in front of my kids when well-intentioned people wish us a Merry Christmas when we don't celebrate it multiple times an outing. The simplest thing to do is to say Merry Christmas back, but I really want to say "we don't celebrate it, but I hope you have a wonderful Christmas." But then the other person feels bad or an awkward conversation ensues and I just don't have time or heart for all that.

In Israel, I don't have to watch wistful nine-year-olds looking at all the stuff to buy that we won't buy. All the media blaring Christmas all the time. All the stores and doctor's offices decorated for the holiday. I don't have to constantly explain that Hanukkah is not a major holiday and try to tamp down the buying impulse to make up for not celebrating Christmas. I don't have to witness Hanukkah being tokenized over and over again or explained as the Jewish Christmas (think about that one!). I don't have to wince at the Santa Claus mug that made it into our house from a gift basket we won at a fundraiser and that the kids want to use. It's a relief.

My only closing thought? I miss Christmas ale. Not sure how that fits into the whole story, but there it is.  :)

The Final Countdown

Way back in 1986, Europe released "The Final Countdown".  This was the era of heavy metal bands, huge hair styles, and skin-tight leather pants.  In retrospect, perhaps not the finest period in music history.

But as I think about the end of our time in Israel, a final countdown seems right.  We only have 11 days left until we leave.  We're cramming things in left and right -- 3 trips to Jerusalem, a visit by cousins, dinner with a high school friend, and (eventually) a trip to Masada and the Dead Sea.  It seems like only yesterday that we were waiting in lines at passport control, wondering why the customs officer didn't know what an A1visa was and when we were going to eat.

So to start wrapping up our semester, I asked everyone in the family the same 3 questions:

1. What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?
2. What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?
3. What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?

Here are their answers.

The Don't-Mess-With-Me-Cat (aka Alice)

1.  What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?  See and name all of the cats.  (There are lots of cats living on the street in Ra'anana -- Alice has had fun seeing them and naming them)

2.  What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?  The cats and the rock that she always jumps on.

3.  What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?  Springs in my mattress (her mattress here is pretty bad), a dark bedroom, and seeing my friends.

The Playful Kitten (aka Gabi)

1.  What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?  Having the beach about 15 minutes away.

2.  What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?  Stripey/Sochi/Sushi (one of the cats on the street) and seeing my friends.

3.  What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?  Seeing my friends and sleeping in her real bed.

The Social Butterfly (aka Helen)

1.  What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?  Eating falafel and going to the beach.

2.  What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?  The weather and the fact that school doesn't have hallways; you just walk outside.

3.  What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?  My room and a door that closes totally (the door handle here fell off -- it wasn't put on right to begin with -- and we haven't asked to have it fixed).

The I-Just-Liked-This Wall Crochet in Tel Aviv (Jan)

1.  What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?  Becoming a part of a community through our shul and celebrating the High Holidays in Israel.

2.  What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?  The quality of the meats and produce.  Our tiny dining room table -- it's been fun to be so close to one another when we eat.  The weather in November and December.

3.  What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?  My friends.  My bed.  My shower.

Mr. I-Can't-Walk-By-Sufganiyot-Without-Buying-One (Josh)

1.  What are 1 or 2 of your favorite things that you've done in Israel?  The food has definitely been great -- fluffy pita, challah everywhere on Friday mornings, falafel stands every couple of blocks.  In addition, some of the traveling around the country has allowed me to reconnect to my Judaism -- visiting the Wall in Jerusalem, getting to Masada, seeing how it's a way of life here is something I didn't expect.

2.  What 1 or 2 things are you going to miss most about Israel?  What will I miss?  Small things.  The friendly crossing guard in the mornings.  The fruit and vegetable stand owner who high-fived me one morning.  Whiskey at Shabbat morning services.  Seeing friends from high school and college who I haven't spoken to in a LONG time.

3.  What 1 or 2 things are you most looking forward to about going back to Oberlin?  My bed and comfortable mattress.  A shower with a door.  Our basement and a couch to stretch out on.  Physical books to read (as opposed to an e-reader).  Not having an upstairs neighbor awake before 6am.  You know -- the important things in life.

Three Trips to Jerusalem (and an extension to Hebron)

So, in the span of 17 days, we took three trips to Jerusalem. We had an amazing day there with my parents on Helen's birthday and were comfortable returning 6 weeks later to navigate our way on our own. It's an easy trip and not an easy trip. We walk about 25 minutes to the main bus junction in Ra'anana (granted, we could take a bus to get there, but we do like to walk), then we climb on a bus for a ride that takes 75-120 minutes depending on the traffic. That lands us at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem and from there, there's a light rail that gets us to the Old City or more buses to get us where we might want to go. Costs about $16 a person roundtrip (half that for the school-aged kids).


Our first trip was on a Sunday when we went to see friends who live in Jerusalem. For one of them, Josh S., this was the first time we met in person, and we have a picture to prove it. The second person was Katja, a grad school friend of Josh L.'s, and it was lovely to catch up (and we have a picture to prove it, but not on my camera). It was nice to be in Jerusalem to see people instead of stuff, to feel like residents of Israel rather than tourists.

Our second trip was exactly two weeks later with our cousins traveling from Bulgaria, Jon and Carrie. We went in to see the Old City and took a tour of the temple tunnels. These were super cool! It was also fun to show Jon and Carrie some of the highlights of the Old City such as the Kotel and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. It was a cold a rainy day by time the afternoon came around, which was not pleasant, but it is all part of experiencing Israel (and Jerusalem, in particular) in December. It took quite a while to get home because of traffic in the rain, but we're all glad we made it to Jerusalem together! (And the younger Levys got to miss three Sundays in a row of school to be in old cities: Jerusalem, Plovdiv/Sofia, Jerusalem!)

Our third trip was just two days later, and only Josh and I went. Once we got to Jerusalem, we took a city bus to a specific parking lot where we met a tour bus headed to Hebron operated by a group called Breaking the Silence (BTS). This is a controversial group within Israel, but from where I sit as an American liberal Jew who has struggled to wrestle with this issue from across an ocean, they didn't feel controversial: they oppose the occupation of the Palestinian territories on moral grounds and from first-hand experience, they believe in Israel's right to exist, and they do not support BDS. It was a compelling trip. I have new knowledge of the history and complexities of this ghastly state-of-being and definitely understand that I barely understand anything at all. I walked the deserted streets of the H2 area of Hebron, looked at a lot really upsetting street art, listened to BTS's take on why Hebron is a ghost town, and will continue to process and think for a long time. One question that the tour guide returned to over and over concerned the idea of security and questioning what it means in different contexts and what the cost (especially ethical) is. I think the occupation is horrible, and it was important to me to witness and learn about it while I was here.

As a side note, we were gone from 6:15 a.m.-5:45 p.m. that day. The girls got themselves up, out, and to and from school. I was coming down with a cold and Josh had to go immediately to work, so we sent them back out to bring home pizza for dinner for all of us (ordered in Hebrew by Gabi).

We will be making one final (fifth) trip to Jerusalem as a family in two more Sundays (our last Sunday here). We're going to take the girls to Yad Vashem, which is the Holocaust Museum, and then do a sunrise hike up Masada followed by a visit to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea. That will check off pretty much everything from our bucket list just two days before we leave.

A Side Trip to Bulgaria

One of the things that we talked about doing while in Israel was to travel outside of Israel.  While there's plenty to see here -- and we'll be doing more of that right before we leave -- there's also a big world to explore.  Thanksgiving seemed to be the right time to go -- Helen was out of school for the holiday -- so we pulled Alice and Gabi for several days and jetted off to Bulgaria to see Jan's cousins, Jonathan and Carrie, who are there for work for a couple of months.

I've never been to Bulgaria but for most of my admissions life, I've read applications from Bulgaria.  So I sort of felt a pull to the country.  I knew the capital is Sofia and that the next largest city is Plovdiv.  But my knowledge ends there.  Currency?  Didn't know that it's the lev.  National drink?  Rakia, as I learned later (it's made from fermented grapes or plums).

Jonathan and Carrie met us at the Sofia Airport and promptly got us onto the metro, which took us to the train station for a 2.5 hour train ride to Plovdiv.  The biggest shock of our first few hours in Bulgaria?  The weather.  We deplaned (via the back staircase, mind you) and promptly saw our breath.  It was quite the change from Israel.  Fortunately, we borrowed winter clothes from a friend and were prepared.

Plovdiv is a fascinating city of just under 700,000 people.  It's actually one of the oldest cities in the world, with evidence of habitation back 8000 years.  It was inhabited by the Thracians, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Goths, the Turks, and eventually plain old Bulgarians.  What's more fascinating about the city is that as they dig and built, they keep finding ancient buildings and have to stop their projects.

We walked everywhere.  We traipsed over an ancient Roman road.  We strolled up Bunardzhik Hill and saw the Aloysha Monument.  We saw the ancient stadium of Philippopolis (right in downtown Poovdiv) and the amazingly well preserved ancient theater of Philippopolis.  We did a little rock climbing on Nebet Tepe (one of the original 7 hills of Plovdiv).  And several times, we walked by Dzhumaya Mosque.

(the ancient theater of Philippopolis; and yes, you can walk all over everything in it)

Most interesting to find in Plovdiv was a memorial to those Bulgarians who saved the Jewish community from the Nazi annihilation.  In fact, Bulgaria was the only Axis nation that did not send its Jews to their deaths.

After Plovdiv, we drove to Sofia (about 90 minutes) for a day of sight-seeing.  Bulgaria's capital city, it's home to around 1,250,000 residents.  There's lots to see in a small area but there are two highlights.  First is the Square of Tolerance.  Within an area of maybe 200 square meters, you have the Sofia Synagogue (one of the largest
Sephardic Synagogues in the world), Banya Bashi (the last mosque in Sofia), St. Joseph Catholic Cathedral, and Sveta Petka Orthodox Church.

The second impressive sight was the Cathedral of Saint Aleksandar Nevski.  It's huge.

And then, just as quickly as we went to Bulgaria, it was time to go home again.  We'd recommend a visit -- things are so incredibly cheap (the Bulgarian sufganiyah was the equivalent of 30 cents) but Bulgaria is joining the European Union and once they adopt the euro, prices are going to skyrocket.

Reflections at 75% Done

So, Helen has this nifty watch that can count down days until an event (thank you Uncle Jason & Aunt Meredith!). It shows 35 days left of the 140 (or 141) that we are here for. That means we're 3/4th the way through our trip. When we wrote about being 1/4th of the way through, it felt like we were just getting settled. Now it's the other extreme: it feels like going home is right around the corner.

I find myself thinking about community a lot as I contemplate leaving. An unexpected difficulty for me this Fall has been being in a perpetual state of receiving. At home, we like to welcome new people and help them out. Here, we are the new people! It's hard not being able to reciprocate with invitations back for shabbat meals or holiday meals next year (have we mentioned how small our apartment is and how impossible the kitchen is?)! I am much more comfortable giving than receiving, for sure. So, while there's stuff/things I will miss, what really makes a leave-taking difficult for me is not the material stuff, but the relationships.

Almost all of the community we have built here grows out of two places: Oberlin and the shul we joined, Ra’anana Masorti Congregation Amitai. From Oberlin, there is a network of (1) people Josh went to school with who made Aliyah (immigrated to Israel under the right of return) and are now long-time Israelis. On further thought, this group also encompasses people from high school and grad school; (2) friends of friends from our current Oberlin life; and (3) Oberlin alum who we had never met before coming to Israel but who--in their true Obie way--have cared a lot about making this a good experience. These Obie-related people have taken care of us for holiday meals, translated scary government forms, helped with homework, connected us with more communities that suit us well, and provided a little bit of home-away-from-home. As frustrating as the Oberlin communities can be, Obies truly do share a common something that makes going to new places a little easier.

From shul, the people we met the very first time we attended have opened doors to additional communities (musical communities, nearby conservative Judaism communities, youth communities), had us over for amazing meals, and answered endless questions about what to wear, what to bring, where to go for X, etc... In particular, we met a whole street of amazing families because we went to a house concert advertised through someone at shul. That event resulted in more holiday meals, homemade challahs, walking partners, more concerts, and more people to just run into around town. Ironically, a lot of these people are from Denver (small world!). At services, the warmth of the president, rabbi, and chazan make the space feel like another home away from home, and I will always be grateful to them for being so good at welcoming new people.

There's the musicicologists in Israel who have taken me for coffee, to faculty meetings (90 minutes of ....?), invited me to lecture in their courses, and told me about concerts.

Then there's all the folks in our daily lives whose names we don't know. The crossing guards, especially the one on our street who smiles at my horrible Hebrew attempts. The fruit-stand guys at the Green Onion who we visit almost daily (including the one who really thinks I should be Filipino given the way I look). The lone fruit vendor with his grocery cart on the corner of Ahuza and Bar Ilan (who wants to talk to us but we just haven't gotten there yet). The guys at the nuts/spices/dried fruits store. The parents we see every morning at Gabi & Alice's school. The list goes on and on!

I miss our communities at home a lot. We've lived in Oberlin for so long (18.5 years!), and we have many long-time friendships. These relationships in Israel are so young and fresh, it's sad to see them changed by time and distance so early on.

But for now, we're going to relish in the fact that we actually run into people we know when we are out and about on foot! And I'm holding the happy thought in my head of getting together with family and friends back in America in a matter of weeks.