...Purim overtook the entire country!

People always ask me why I moved here; how I deal with the low wages and high cost of living; why I chose a war-torn, unsafe country; how I survive without air conditioning in the summer, how I could leave my family and friends behind, and what I miss most about America.  I am almost never asked what I like most about being here.  When Israelis ask about my move, it is often with shock and disdain (that I would leave the cushy life of America).  They think that I am crazy.  Sometimes, I am met with admiration (also because I left a cushy life behind for something much more challenging).  Very rarely is news of my move met with contentment or understanding.  I can be admired for my move, yes, but many people can't fathom why I would choose to do something so hard.

Moving to a foreign country is hard.  I do get homesick sometimes.  Summers are hot and sweaty.  I am making less money than my friends in America.  I do stock up on a ton of clothes and goodies when I go home for a visit.  All of that is true.  But I don't realize it.  It isn't something I think about often.  It isn't something that particularly bothers me.  What I think about in Israel, despite how hard it is (in terms of language, bureaucracy, etc.) is how easy it is.  I have really good friends.  I have a life with weekly "activities."  I have favorite spots.

But there is something more than those things.  There is a feeling you get on a Friday afternoon in the shuk with the mad rush before Shabbat; the feeling when you ride the bus during Hanukka and pass hundreds of lit menorahs.  Most recently, it is the feeling of Purim.  In America you eat a little, drink a little, and dress up a little.  You make sure you hear megilla (the text read on the holiday), and you continue with your day.  In Israel it is a national holiday, and you really feel it.  Everyone is dressed up or talking about costumes, the markets and bakeries are bursting with hamentaschen (traditional triangular cookies), and hearing the megialla is a true experience.  This year, my friends and I went all out.  I was at a musical service and megilla reading at night with Disney tunes, some tunes from the Beatles, and a few other fun ones too.  It brought the holiday spirit of the country into the prayer service and was very festive and fitting.  Then I continued to another friend's apartment for some finishing touches to our costumes, and then we headed off to the shuk for a huge party.  There were Israelis, Anglos, religious people and secular people.  Everyone was dancing and having a good time.  And this was just one of the many parties to choose from.There were parties in town, in and around the Old City, in the various parks and public spaces, and at people's houses.

The next day throughout the city were Purim parties, activities for kids and families, and fundraising events. A group of men in our extended group of friends arranged a "Morning After" brunch, megilla reading, and charity auction for One Family, a local organization for overcoming acts of terror.  People within our community donated services (personal training session, cleaning services, lawyer services, dental check-up, etc.) to be auctioned, and together we raised about 15,000 shekels for the organization and another couple thousand for the needy in our community.  The fact that we did this in our community makes me proud to be hear.

 The day continued with a BBQ in the park.  We did it in costume, potluck style, and it was great.  We and the rest of Jerusalem celebrated a full 24+ hours, and the fact that that's normal here, and even expected, is why I live here.  The fact that Purim is just a given and that everyone can celebrate it and enjoy it is one of the reasons I truly love living here.  It feels like home because it is.

...my partner in crime...

It was so Israeli when I took Hebrew exams.  It was also one of the hardest experiences of my life.  Translating questions to English, thinking about them, answering them, and then finding the appropriate Hebrew multiple choice answer for the answer I had come up with in English is not easy.

It was so Israeli when some lady was getting her hair dyed outside the barber shop.  They were just chilling on the street corner. She was smoking, there was a dog near her feet, and he was dyeing her hair.

I was at the grocery store picking my line, and I thought I had picked a good one.  Someone else must have thought so too because he got in line behind me.  As the wait went on though, we realized that there were a line of carts in the row next to us with no people.  That is a relatively common thing here, but after about five minutes of waiting, the carts were still abandoned. He and I had looked at each other a few times throughout the wait.  With a final look and a smile I jumped ship and joined the line next to us, ahead of the abandoned carts.  It was so Israeli when he said he would stick up for me if the MIA shoppers came back. I had a partner in crime, and life was good.

My line progressed, and it was finally my turn.  The woman began ringing my things up before the person in front of me had finished bagging his groceries.  I am a pretty proficient bagger, but it's not just about the rate of bagging.  Placement is also important.  I had left a box of cereal (Kariot, literally pillows, but actually just amazing goodness) for then end.  When I looked up again though, it was gone.  It was so Israeli when the cashier told me it wasn't her problem that he took my cereal and that I had to pay for it anyways.  Needless to say the manager came over to mediate and the person behind me (yet another partner in crime) got involved too.  In the end, the cashier got reprimanded and I got my box of cereal.  And a yummy box of cereal it was!

...I missed my tomatoes!!!

So many tomatoes!!!

Since moving to Israel, I have loved shuk shopping.  I have eaten fruits and vegetables seasonally and taken their freshness for granted.  I grew up in Chicago, though, and there, I also ate fruits an vegetables.  Carrots and tomatoes were a staple in my diet.  (Mini carrots, the epitome of my childhood, have only recently become a thing here).  We had salad with dinner, and I had at least two fruits in my lunch.

On my most recent trip to visit my family, though, I was extremely disappointed with my vegetable options.  Everyone says the produce in Israel is better, but I had never been able to tell the difference.  Not only was it expensive.  Simply put, it was just bad.  I love tomatoes, but I didn't eat one the whole two weeks I was in town, and that wasn't for lack of trying.  I had become a spoiled Israeli used to fresh, good-tasting tomatoes.  It makes sense to me now why American salads are so heavily based on lettuce (the vegetables themselves don't taste good) and Israeli salads are not (our cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, etc. all taste so fresh and flavorful).

Upon landing I was grateful to be returning to a country of fresh veggies, fruits, and falafels!  I missed the berries of America--you can't find blackberries or raspberries here--but I was delighted by the tomatoes!

...she was wearing pink, striped, fuzzy...

I've been jet-setting (really just visiting family) for the past two weeks, and even though I was away from Israel, I didn't escape the Israelis.  When I travel, my ears always perk up at the sound of Hebrew, whether it's in the bathroom, on the plane, at a restaurant, or in an airport terminal.  I usually don't do anything besides smile a bit.  (My mom is an expert at initiating conversation with Israelis in foreign countries, but I didn't get that gene.)

My first flight from Israel was mostly Israelis, and surprisingly, my second flight to Florida was too.  One woman in particular stands out.  She spoke almost no English and was lugging around a ton of shopping bags.  It was so Israeli when I glanced down at her feet only to find fuzzy animal slippers.  I understand flying is exhausting and we all like to be a bit comfortable, but on the floor of the terminal?  Or at baggage claim after a domestic flight?  It made me smile and miss Israel just a bit.

My other flights weren't as Israeli.  I managed to find the one Israeli on my flight from Chicago to Toronto, and I guess he shares the gene my mother has because we chatted most of the five-hour layover before heading to Israel.  All in all, my flying was surprisingly pleasant. Just about all of my flights left on time, and a few even landed early; nothing was too full, and I slept and ate well.  Flying hasn't been that enjoyable since the 90s.

Now I am back to home and settled into exams.  I have been studying like a mad-woman and praying that my Hebrew is good enough to understand my multiple choice exam questions.  Wish me luck.  Hopefully nothing too Israeli happens this week because I need to pass these tests!