Looking back on the first five months

Tomorrow marks the end of my five-month program. At 9:30 a.m., we’ll be out on the streets – some of us staying here in Israel, others heading home.

In some ways, I can’t believe how long ago the first few days feel. The first day I walked in, sweaty and out of breath after lugging my way-too-heavy suitcases up the stairs in 90+-degree heat, to find some of my new roommates and our madrich (program adviser) sitting in the kitchen. I was immediately overwhelmed by the new personalities, the apartment, the realization that this was the setting for the next five months of my life.

Those first few days, I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to make it. I knew only a couple of people in Tel Aviv outside of my program. I felt way too old to be on the program at all, let alone to be in an apartment with seven other people, sharing a room. I was beyond grossed out by our bathroom and shower situation (my hair phobia didn’t help matters). Our power went out the first night, yielding a sleepless, sweaty night. I was tired, anxious and scared. I started looking for a sublet.

Goodbye, tiny bedroom

When I realized I wasn’t actually going to move out, I tried to make the best of my apartment situation. I barely (read: never) cooked because our kitchen grossed me out so much. Our eight personalities clashed in sometimes ugly ways. Our apartment became so moldy with the winter rain that three people actually moved out. But hey – I made it. I was lucky to get along well with my roommate (truly the most important), and I only fell out of my twin-sized bed once. I didn’t overcome my hair phobia, but I’m alive and didn’t inhale so much mold that I have brain damage (that I know of, anyway).

I quickly came into my own on the program. I reassured myself that age is just a number, and that I can survive five months anywhere. And thankfully, I was right.

I made friendships I know will last a lifetime. I’m excited to know people all around the world – Argentina, Brazil, France, Hungary, Russia, Germany… even Canada! Though I didn’t meet nearly as many Israelis as I might have liked or expected, I know that’s partially on me, and I’m making a strong effort now that I’m staying.

My internship was a fantastic experience. I learned about the world of public relations, and met some truly wonderful people along the way. I also got to interact with Israel’s high-tech startup scene (and I now know more about cybersecurity than I ever expected!).

I finally feel like a local in Tel Aviv (maybe not Israel, but at least Tel Aviv) as opposed to a tourist. I can figure out the buses and have yelled “Rega! Nahag!” (“Wait! Driver!”) when the bus doors closed before I could shove my way to the doors. I know my favorite restaurants and how to order shawarma. I don’t expect to get water at a restaurant unless I ask a few times.

Most of all, I feel confident in my decision to stay in Tel Aviv longer. I’ve started the process of making Aliyah (becoming an Israeli citizen) instead of only applying for a work visa. I opened a bank account (after four attempts…), rented an apartment with a lovely Israeli roommate and am going through job interviews.

I miss home; most of all, I miss my friends, family and cat. But I’ll be back to visit, and someday to live, I’m sure… and in the meantime, this is everyone’s excuse to come visit Israel!

Thank you to everyone I’ve met – in one way or another, you have all had a positive impact on my experience here, and I hope we stay in touch.

 

 

Should I stay or should I go? (Pt. II)

As 2016 comes to a close, I’ve made the decision you’ve all been waiting for…

I’m staying in Tel Aviv for a bit longer.

I don’t have a set amount of time I plan to be here; it will largely depend on the job I get and how integrated I feel into everyday life here. I’ve found an apartment (assuming everything goes well tomorrow with the lawyer!) with a lease through September, and now I’m waist-deep in job hunting.

Why did I decide to stay? Ultimately, it came down to this: I don’t want to regret not staying for longer. Five months is really not that long, and certainly not long enough to really know a city (or country). I know that if I move back to the U.S. now, I would probably never move back to Israel; in contrast, if I stay here, I can always go back to the U.S. if I decide it’s not for me.

Also: the Mediterranean, shakshuka, krembo, 1+1 deals, Thursday nights and Shabbat.

Should I stay or should I go?

When I arrived in Israel in late August, I did so with an open mind: I didn’t have a clue whether I’d stay past the program end in January. I told myself that I’d go with the flow and give myself time to make up my mind. The goal, ultimately, was to make this decision by the end of December, so that if I decided to return to the U.S. I could begin my job search (and, conversely, if I were to stay in Israel, start finding a job/housing here).

Now, It’s the second week of December, and I don’t feel any closer to a decision than I did before. I had days when I was sure I would stay, and days that I’ve wanted nothing more than to return home in 2017.

I’ve tried pro/con lists, which have helped to an extent, but have certainly not been definitive. Below I’ll share some of my reasons – just a few of the selected, more publicly-appropriate ones, of course. Over the next few weeks I’ll be doing some serious soul-searching to hopefully come to a decision.

PRO: STAY IN ISRAEL!

• More time to explore Tel Aviv and the whole of Israel
• Easier (and cheaper) to travel to other European countries
• It’s an adventure
• Learning opportunities
• Pushing myself out of my comfort zone
• I don’t have to figure out a new job and new city back in the U.S.
• No need for a car
• I really love this city.
• The Mediterranean and the beach

• The weather (and not returning to the U.S. in the dead of winter)

CON: GO BACK TO THE US!

• If I stay, I need to put in a lot more effort to learn Hebrew. If I go home, it’s back to my first language.
• I really miss my friends and family – and my cat, Leinie.

Look at that cat. How could you not miss him??

• The eight-hour time difference makes it hard to stay connected to those back home.
• I’d surely make more money.
• Cost of living in Tel Aviv is really high – groceries, bills, especially housing
• Summer in Israel is brutal.
• Living in the U.S. is just EASIER. It’s easier to do things like go to a clinic, deal with customer service representatives and get things fixed (like my phone, which is barely functioning) – and not just because of the language barrier.
• I could afford to join a gym and start working out again. I’d probably eat more healthily, too (probably… not definitely).
• A majority of the people I know here are on this program and leaving at the end of January. That said, I’m pushing myself this next month to get to more events and meet more people, especially Israelis.

Advice? I’ll take it. Affordable apartments in Tel Aviv? Any jobs back in the U.S. that would tempt me to come back even more? Oh, I’ll definitely take those.

Hitting the three-month mark

How I know I’ve been in Tel Aviv for three months:

• I no longer turn to see what cars are honking at. They’re just honking.
• I don’t worry about off-leash dogs. Their owner is nearby somewhere and they’ll be just fine.
• I’m much less careless about jaywalking.
• I don’t assume that things will work – air conditioning, water, toilets, doors…
• I don’t expect listed opening hours to be correct.
• I take nice weather for granted.
• I remember to say “Shabbat shalom” on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. It’s the equivalent of “Have a great weekend” (and here, weekends are Fridays and Saturdays).
• I know that I have to get my errands done during the week, because most places will close early on Friday (especially as the days get shorter) and stay closed through Saturday.
• I know how warm Israelis can be – and that when they invite you to their homes for Shabbat, holidays or other events, their invitations are (usually) sincere.
• I don’t say “slicha” or “excuse me” anymore. I just push my way through.
• I also have no problem lightly shoving old people and children out of my way.
• I expect to be run over by old ladies with carts at the shuk.
• I don’t expect customer service or politeness.
• I remember that I have to ask for the check when I’m ready to leave a restaurant or bar.
• I know it’s not worth paying more than 5 shekel for a Diet Coke, no matter my level of desperation (unless it’s a fountain DC, which is nearly impossible to find past fast food restaurants).
• I don’t notice the (generally bad) smells of the city.
• I know that “iced cafe” is NOT iced coffee. It is basically ice cream. And it is delicious.
• I don’t feel weird asking for the wifi password at restaurants and coffee shops.
• I keep forgetting Thanksgiving is this week.
• I’ve really, really started to miss home.
• I don’t freak out at every cute cat (ok, that’s a lie. I do).

 

Rain dancing

I know that I won’t miss snow or a “real” winter while I’m here in Israel. I miss the fall colors, but I don’t miss the fall weather. What I do miss is rain.

I knew that Israel was a dry place and that I’d be arriving at the end of summer, a dry season. I knew it wouldn’t rain until the end of October, at the earliest. But there’s something about not seeing rain for a full two months – to seeing “0% chance of precipitation” on the weather forecast each day – that has started to get to me.

I love sunshine and summer. I have a hard time spending the day inside if it’s nice outside – probably drilled into me after growing up in a place where summer is extremely short-lived. When every day is beautiful and summery, there’s a constant internal pressure to find something new to do outside, and I have to remind myself that today won’t be the last day of beautiful weather, that there’s more around the corner. It’s a strange feeling after years of worshipping summer weather to wish for just one rainy day.

In a bigger city like Tel Aviv, a lack of rain means that the city is covered in a layer of dust and dirt. I’ve gotten used to the dust, to constantly having dirty feet, and against all odds, I’ve even gotten used to the smell of thousands of dogs using the sidewalks as their restroom. But the city still just feels a little tired. It needs the rain.

Rain brings renewal, a sense of a fresh start. Now that the month of holidays is over, it’s time for the rain to wash away some of last year’s dust. The city will feel cleaner and the country will slowly turn green again. I’ll be doing a rain dance or two to facilitate the process.

 

 

Update: It rained the next day, and it was glorious. 

Yom Kippur

I can’t think of another way to describe Yom Kippur in Tel Aviv but magical.

“Magical” is not the word I ever would have associated with Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur is the day of atonement; you fast, you spend most of the day in synagogue, you’re hungry and tired.

But in Tel Aviv, it’s the one day that absolutely everything shuts down – every single store, coffee shop, restaurant – and there are zero cars on the road or planes overhead.

I started my Erev Yom Kippur with a walk to the beach to watch the sunset and spend some time journaling (thanks to Marcy for the awesome journal!). The sunset was beautiful and the time alone was precious. During my walk home, there were few people on the streets.

Within just a few hours, pedestrians, bicyclists and dogs took to the streets. Walking around Tel Aviv at 11:00 p.m. felt like being in The Walking Dead – except much happier. Kids biked around in packs, whooping and making siren noises. Young children were learning to ride bikes themselves. Arabs barbecued at a park near the beach. Dogs chased each other around. We saw a single car driving down Allenby, trying to weave through hordes of people, only to stop at a stoplight.

Yom Kippur itself was the same. I didn’t want to go inside and lose the feeling of being in a magic land where we reclaimed our streets. Sometimes alone and sometimes with friends, I walked to Yafo, up to my office space near Azrieli Mall, back to Yafo, always in the middle of the street – almost 15 miles by the end of the day.

It was strange to feel sad upon seeing the first cars back on the streets. People seemed reluctant to move out of the streets back to the sidewalks.

Yom Kippur, like Rosh Hashanah, was not a particularly religious experience for me; I didn’t pray, nor did I go to synagogue. But I spent more time alone, thinking and reflecting, and for me, that’s enough.

Today I’ll head back to the office for one more day before going up to the lower Galilee region to spend a few days hiking, exploring, spending time with friends and celebrating the first night of Sukkot on Sunday.

Introspection and atonement

At sundown today, Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement, will begin, lasting through sundown tomorrow.

This Yom Kippur, as with most years, I’m taking time to reflect on the past year and the wrongs I’ve committed. I’m sorry to say that they aren’t few or far between, despite my best efforts. My private list is long and detailed, but my sentiments here are no less genuine. I am truly, truly sorry to anyone I have hurt, intentionally or unintentionally.

This year, I’m sorry that I have:

• Hurt some of the people I care about most
• Committed lishon hara (talked badly about people)
• Ignored calls for help from others, whether obvious or not
• Traveled so far from my family
• Not kept in better touch with my friends and family back home
• Not given people the benefit of the doubt
• Been disrespectful
• Lied
• Not put my best efforts into work or extracurriculars
• Not spent enough time fostering relationships
• Been passive-aggressive
• Been short-tempered
• Not given enough to charity – either money or time

I hope that in this coming year, I can be a better person. Perhaps my list will be a little bit shorter next year.

If you’re fasting, I hope your fast is easy. I’ll be exploring a completely shut-down Tel Aviv and spending some time alone with my thoughts.

Fall (Stav)

It may still be in the mid-80s, but there’s no question: fall is coming here in Israel.

It’s hard to tell the difference between seasons in an obvious way we do in the States. The temperature is still quite warm (though nowhere near as hot as it was in July or August); people still go to the beach; most of the leaves are still green.

But the signs of fall are here. The wind has picked up, creating  nice, cool breeze that cuts down on the heat in the sunshine. The Mediterranean is a little cooler, the waves bigger. The sun sets earlier and earlier, and everything closes a bit earlier week by week on Friday before Shabbat. Leaves are falling. It’s even obvious at the grocery store: where once there were bountiful mangoes, now there are few (and they don’t look so great).

For me, fall always feels like a fresh time, likely because I’ve associated it with a new school year. It’s also fresh in that it’s the new year according to the Jewish calendar. Though October is a mess of Jewish holidays and strange work schedules, I finally feel like I’m settling in here in Tel Aviv, and I’m ready to see what this season brings.

Celebrating the new year in Israel

From late afternoon Friday until sundown Saturday each week, nearly everything in Israel closes as the country rests. There are restaurants and shops that stay open in Tel Aviv, of course, but the majority close. Buses start back up Saturday night and business resumes first thing Sunday as the week begins anew.

This year, Rosh Hashanah, or the Jewish new year, starts at sundown Sunday, lasting until sundown Tuesday. Once again, everything closes. It’s fascinating to see the country come alive for a short period of time Sunday as the grocery stores sell out of challah and chicken, furniture stores sell chairs and tables to families who realize they don’t have enough seating for their dinners and buses run for a few hours. Everyone seems happy as they dash around, wishing friends, family and strangers a chag sameach and shanah tova.

It’s days like this that I truly love being in Tel Aviv. Though many are secular, everyone looks forward to the almost obligatory two additional days of rest and celebration and the continuation of their weekends. I feel incredibly lucky to be spending this month of chagim in Israel.

Wishing all of my friends and family a healthy, happy and sweet new year. May 5777 be the best yet.

A night at Cofix gone wrong

What a strange experience to feel that your life may actually be in danger, in a land where it’s almost expected by foreigners, and to have it instead be fear of an Israeli woman.

Last night, my roommate and I went for a drink at Cofix Bar around the block from our apartment (Cofix is a chain of bars, supermarkets and coffee shops where everything costs five shekels. Yes, even drinks). After a short time, a woman came up, asking if we spoke Hebrew. When we responded that we didn’t, she moved onto the next patrons.

She became more agitated and upset with every moment, beginning to yell. She went inside Cofix and began pushing, punching and kicking the people working inside. We were told that she was accusing them of stealing her credit card. The employees tried to ward her off as peacefully as they could, but she was one strong – and violent – woman. One worker finally pushed her out of Cofix and around the corner – we thought that was the end.

Suddenly, she dodged into the restaurant next door, took a large knife and began waving it around. The restaurant emptied out in a matter of seconds. She ran down the block, waving the knife and yelling. Finally, one of the Cofix employees managed to disarm her, and it was at that point that the police finally showed up and she was arrested (not without a fight).

Last night’s happenings sparked an interesting discussion. If this Israeli woman had been Arab, would she have been able to run around, punching and kicking and eventually wielding a knife, for 15 minutes before being arrested – without major incident – by four policemen? I can’t imagine that she would have been nearly so lucky.

It’s the same issue here as in the U.S. to some extent, just with a different cast of characters. Imagining this situation there – a white woman attacking police – and subbing it with a black man or woman attacking police, it’s easy to guess what would have transpired. She would not be alive today.