...I went to track down my orchid only to find...

Since I last blogged, in no particular order, my mom came to visit me, I turned 22, I brought in a new year, I visited the States, I went to a couple weddings (mazal tov!), I started a new job, I moved into a new apartment (twice!!), I traveled Rome, and I had many more Israeli experiences.  Without dragging on too much (I hope), I am going to try to catch you up on the past six months, and from here on out, I might actually update my blog a bit more regularly.

Some of my classmates and our teacher, Mazal

My ulpan experience, which was my primary excitement during my first five months in Israel, came to an end at the beginning of June.  After a final test and a closing celebration, I could say goodbye do the dreaded 8 bus forever.  It was a bus that never came often enough or on time, rain or shine, to ulpan or home.  The route was a long one, and there were no other options.  After many morning runs (to catch the dreaded bus) and minutes upon minutes wasted waiting, I am pleased to say that the horrors of the 8 bus are in the past. Since ending ulpan, I have yet to take that bus again.  I did, however, familiarize myself with a few other lines over the past six months.

As soon as ulpan ended, my mother made a quick visit to Jerusalem.  We spent our ten days eating, shopping, and walking.  The weather was beautiful while she was in town, and because I was through with ulpan I got to spend the whole ten days with my mom visiting family (both real and adopted), eating at all the restaurants I couldn't afford, coffee shop hopping from one shop to the next, and sightseeing.  We also made some progress on my summer shopping list, and one of the things we needed to buy was a fan.  It was so Israeli when then salesman at the store, with whom I was bargaining, began to ask me about my personal life.  When he had determined that I was single, he decided (with my mother looking on) to help me find my true love.  He didn't make much progress, but that common sentiment of playing matchmaker to anyone and everyone was yet again fulfilled.

My host siblings and me: Ori, Gal, Tal, Sondra, and Itzik

After an eating extravaganza, I packed up my apartment into four suitcases and a couple of boxes and moved down south.  I spent my summer volunteering in Kiryat Gat.  It is the same city in which I volunteered last summer.  I have a host family there (my mom finally got to meet them), I feel comfortable with the city, and it is a great place to speak Hebrew.  I also found a new "favorite" bus line, the 446, there.  It is the line from Jerusalem to Kiryat Gat, and it takes FOREVER.  I took it round trip at least once a week, often opting to spend my weekends in Jerusalem.

This summer my volunteer projects consisted of a bit of manual labor in a community garden and a more consistent project at the local absorption center for Ethiopian immigrants.  I volunteered 3-6 hours a day with a group of first graders.  The first part of the summer, I helped out with an after school program, and the second half of the summer, I helped run the center's day camp.  As my volunteering continued, I not only became a more confident Hebrew speaker, but I also became a more central part to the camp's running, and by the end of my experience, I felt such a strong connection to the group of students I worked with that I was sad to leave.  My most memorable experience was when we took a mini-field trip into the center of town.  A carnival had been set up for a couple of days, and arrangements had been made to bring the children along with their parents.  Many of these children had only ridden in a car a handful of times and had never even seen a carnival ride let alone ridden on one.  The day was a magical one for me as I watched families explore the new experience with awe and glee.

Throughout the summer, while not volunteering, I spent my time figuring out what I wanted to do with the next several months of my life.  I did some apartment hunting, looked for a job, explored Kiryat Gat and relaxed a good bit.  I decided to take a year before beginning my graduate degree to work on my Hebrew a bit more, to save some money, and to really be confident in my decision for a graduate program.  I was accepted to a program to begin this year, but in the end, I just wasn't sure if it was for me.  While not making serious decisions, I checked off a few short term goals too.

One of these was to pass my driver's license test.  From a previous post, you know that the process began as an arduous one.  With all of the paperwork done, though, I was able to look for a teacher in Kiryat Gat, take a lesson, and hopefully pass my test.  I asked around for a recommendation and was put in touch with a local teacher.  It was so Israeli when I called him, and right away, he was thrilled that I was American and that I had moved to Israel.  He was excited that I was spending my summer in Kiryat Gat, and he wanted to help me in any way that he could.  The only problem was that he only taught on a stick shift car.  He made a commitment to helping me out though, and he most definitely followed through.  He found me a teacher with a fair price who would be able to schedule my test within my two week time frame on an automatic car. (I guess teacher's can only schedule a certain amount of tests each week.)  The teacher he found me was nice, and my one lesson was fine.  It was mostly just getting used to driving a new car, and I passed my test the next day.  My teacher dropped of my temporary license later in the week, and now I am waiting for the permanent one in the mail.  If only everything here was as easy as that test.

I had a fun adventure one evening with a friend getting to know the pizza joints of Kiryat Gat.  If I was going to make the smal ltown my home for the summer, the hope was that I would at least have somewhere nearby to get a good slice of pizza.  We went on a pizza tour of the town.  We mapped a route, ordered slices and rate each one on various scales from taste to convenience to price.  In the end, only one place was really worth going back to, but it was a fun night nevertheless.

Celebrating my birthday with friends in Jerusalem (above)
Celebrating my birthday at the amusement park (below)

My birthday also fell during my stay in Kiryat Gat.  I celebrated with a friend at a (somewhat) nearby amusement park and then had a yummy dinner and dessert.  I also celebrated in the States with my FAVORITE Deerfield's Bakery chocolate cake, and then again back in Jerusalem with more of my friends.  A couple days before my birthday, though, I got an interesting call.  The volunteer coordinator told me that someone had delivered some sort of a plant to me and that a neighbor picked it up for me.  She gave me the neighbor's number, and I called him to try and figure out what was going on.  We chatted for a few minutes, and I wasn't much more informed than before the conversation.  He told me that someone had delivered a flower to me (maybe a boyfriend, he inquired?), and said that he would call me when he was home so I could pick it up. We touched base a little later, and he gave me his address.  It was just a few street numbers away from my house, so I assumed I would have no problem finding it.  That turned out to be an incorrect assumption.  Another neighbor on the block saw me walking down the street, obviously looking for something, and asked if I needed help.  I gave her the address and she directed me to an alley with a few house.  I found the right one after a few more minutes.  It was so Israeli when I knocked on the door and was greeted by a slightly surprised man without a shirt.  At first I thought I was in the wrong house, but then he started telling me about the course of events of the day.  It turns out my aunt, uncle, and cousins sent me an orchid for my birthday and the neighbor was near my house (which is a good couple minute walk down the alley) at the time of the delivery.  He picked it up and watered it for me.  I thanked him kindly and he wished me a happy birthday on my way out. (I guess he read the card).



The summer came to a close, and I packed up my four suitcases and a couple boxes, yet again.  This time, though, the destination was unknown.  I left my suitcases, boxes, and orchids (yes, it's still alive) with some friends, spent a day in Jerusalem interviewing for a job and apartment searching, and then I boarded a plane to the States. I spent my two short weeks away surprising my grandfather for his 80th birthday, celebrating a wedding and an engagement with friends, celebrating a birthday with family, eating and shopping (a common theme), and catching up with everyone in the States.  I had a fun trip, but almost as soon as I landed in Chicago, I was ready to head back home to Israel.

My street-crossing buddy

On my way home, I had a 14 hour layover in Rome.  I planned a full day of events and executed it perfectly.  I visited the Colosseum, the Palatine Hill, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon, and the Jewish Quarter.  I ate some pizza, had an espresso, and indulged in delicious gelato--twice.  I walked around the whole day and had a really good adventure.  The guide books I read before my trip warned of difficulties in crossing the street.  I read that some cars and all motorcycles and scooters do not follow traffic signals.  Thus, it is important to be aggressive in all street crossing endeavors, make eye contact with drivers, and when at all possible, follow an Italian.  I tried to follow these guides throughout the day, but at one point in the afternoon, I found an intersection that I just couldn't cross.  It was so Italian when (well maybe not--I am not an expert on Italians), I tried to cross, failed, made eye contact with another pedestrian, made a non-verbal pact to get across together, followed his lead across (with a bit of a sprint by both of us), and thanked him in beautiful Italian.  He gave me a nice smile, and then we both continued on.

My day of walking, sightseeing, and eating exhausted me, and I was looking forward to a bit of rest of my flight from Rome to Israel, but I was out of luck.  I was seated next to a religious, Israeli family with a ton of kids (six or seven).  None of them spoke English, and the Alitalia flight attendants most definitely did not speak Hebrew.  I was trying to tune out the family next to me and all of the other loud, Israeli families on the flight that were running back and forth and screaming across aisles and ignoring fasten seat belt signs, but even at one in the morning, sleep wouldn't come.  At one point, after a brief exchange with a flight attendant, she gave me an exasperated look and just sort of shrugged.  She was trying to prepare for landing and there were four children seated in the two seats next to me.  She couldn't communicate with them so I translated for her.  The girl next to me was shocked that I spoke Hebrew.  She asked me where I learned, and then told me that she wasn't going to move seats.  It was so Israeli!

I landed, though, safe and sound and tired.  I slept at a friend's place for a couple of hours in the morning, and then, with some helped, moved into a new apartment. (The final arrangements were made from the States.)  I am now living in a neighborhood of Jerusalem called Katamon.  I live with an Israeli and an Australian who I met in ulpan.  My favorite thing about the apartment is that we feel like a family.  We get along well, but it's more than just three roommates living together.  We also speak Hebrew which is a huge bonus for me.  I settled in quickly after a nice welcome home shabbat and a few nights of solid sleep.  Then I jumped straight into work.  (Pictures coming soon...maybe.)

I am currently working full time in a Montessori preschool.  I speak Hebrew at work with the children and also with the other staff.  I get along really well with the women I work with, and the children are growing on me, too.  I may or may not have favorites.  The preschool is only a ten minute walk from my apartment, so that makes it really convenient as well.  It is by no means a dream job, but I generally like it, and it meets my two requirements: it helps with my Hebrew, and it allows me to save money while I narrow my sights on a grad school program.

When I am not working, I always find a way to keep busy.  I joined a gym when I came back from the States, and I have been swimming several times a week.  I babysit a bit, and I see friends a lot.  Building a strong community has been a priority.  A couple cool coffee shops have opened up recently, so we have been enjoying trying them out.  I don't live as close to the shuk as I used to, but I still try to go once a week on my day off.  I also find time in the evenings to cook a bit.  I have been really into quinoa lately.  It's good with a bit of feta cheese, lemon juice, cucumbers, mint, and pomegranate seeds.

Thinking about pomegranates brings me back to all of the delicious food, pomegranates included, that I ate during chaggim (the high holy days).  I spent Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, most of Sukkot, and Simchat Torah in Jerusalem.  One of my roommates and I hosted a few meals for Rosh Hashana and then went out to several others. We did a lot of cooking and had a really nice holiday.  We had some meals at home, some meals out, some meals with friends, and some meals with families.

One of our meals was quite an interesting one, mainly due to what occurred within the first ten minutes.  We were supposed to eat with a family that my roommate knew.  We met them at shul and walked with them to their apartment after Rosh Hashana services.  Their building had a pre-programmed elevator which we piled into to go up to the seventh floor. (Rosh Hashana, like shabbat, is meant to be a holy day of rest: working, use of electricity, etc, are prohibited.)  We managed to get stuck in it somewhere between the sixth and seventh floors, even though we were below both the weight and capacity limits.  We banged a bit on the door and finally an angry neighbor came out from his meal yelling and screaming and helped us pry the door open.  He continued to yell, though, even after we climbed out, because now the elevator was stuck in between two floors and could not be used for the rest of the two day holiday and shabbat (this was of course the first day).  The only way to get around this was to find a non-Jew to call an elevator repair man.  After standing on a corner for a good half hour, one of the guests at my meal found such a person who came up to the seventh floor (via the steps), assessed the situation, and made the call.  Apparently it was his third such call of the day.  As we were waiting for/with him we began chatting with the once angry neighbor.  It was so Israeli when the previous screaming was completely forgotten, and instead celebration ensured (the occasion is still unclear). A bottle of wine was passed around from neighbor to good Samaritan to neighbor, and with the blink of an eye, everyone was smiling and toasting.  After another fifteen minutes, everyone settled back into their respective meals to continue eating and patiently await the elevator repairman.  From my understanding, everything has since been resolved.  The rest of our meals, while not quite as entertaining, were equally fun, warm-spirited, and delicious.



The month of holidays was a fun one, and now that it is over, I am back into my weekly routine of working, swimming, and coffee drinking or eating with friends.  Hopefully I have caught you up well enough for the time being....