For falling off the face of the earth is a big trip

It has been brought to my attention that I haven't blogged in awhile. So I checked, and holy cow! It has been awhile. Many apologies. There was much going on, including my sister getting married! Said event entailed the following:

• mom coming for a visit. She decided to spend the first of her 3 weeks with us.
  
• however, since said sister was getting married, there was a lot of happy shlepping into Jerusalem.
  
• and visiting other relatives who were gradually making their way in.
  
• and the tichel party
  
• and dad arriving
  
• and the "groom's family meets the bride's family" cocktail party
  
• followed by wedding supply shopping
  
• followed by Shabbat, which was in the Old City, where we were staying with my sister
  
• which included the Shabbat Kallah; the sister's friends coming over for Seudah Shlishit
  
• followed by wedding preparation stuff
  
• and the day of the wedding, and all the girlie stuff that goes along with that
  
• and all the emotional stuff that weddings bring out
  
• then visiting the police because my mother's jewellery was stolen
  
• which happened before the first Sheva Brachot
  
• and the 100 degree fever I came down with that day
  
• which was the day before we were hosting 40 people for the second Sheva Brachot
  
• after which we spent a casual day in Jerusalem having lunch with the new couple and the parents (for the first time this visit)
  
• where we discovered the jewellery had been returned, coincidentally right after the police informed the hotel staff that they would all have to take a polygraph test
  
• which was good news for my parents to return to the States with,
  
• which was followed by Pesach cleaning
  
• which involved one - count 'em, one! - seder.

I missed a lot of ulpan. But I had a lot of taxi drivers to speak Hebrew with!

For recovery purposes, we resolved to do absolutely nothing this Chol HaMoed. Nothing. And the beautiful thing about being in Israel is almost everyone is on vacation. During Chol HaMoed - the days between the first and last days of Pesach - schools are closed (no ulpan!), many businesses are off, and a sense of festivity abounds. Since you aren't supposed to do any laundry during Chol HaMoed, I had no chores, so I sat around and read and played on the computer and finally caught up on my email. The only problem was, with Shabbat in the middle, and 7 days instead of 8, it seemed like there was hardly any Chol!

We had a trip on Monday, which was our only concession. I love the desert, and this was a trip to the desert, to hike through a canyon, ride camels, and go on a jeep ride through the desert (the best part!). So I happily gave up a day of doing nothing for that.

More on that in the next post...

6 pound frame on a 2 inch toe

So 12 days ago, I noticed that someone shoved our large wind chimes into a moving box for artwork that holds a large painting (I won't name the husband who put the chimes there). I was afraid the wind chimes would scratch the frame, so I pulled the them out of the box.

What I didn't know was the wind chimes were holding up some smaller frames that had also been shoved into the box (again, by the same unmentioned husband). The 6-pound frame (that held the diploma of some guy-who-lives-here) dropped from a height of four feet. Onto my big toe.

After screaming bloody murder, and having a good, hard cry (it HURT!), and icing it, I elevated it and watched the toe turn all sorts of pretty shades of purple (yes, I was having flashbacks to the ankle I sprained years ago. Pretty, pretty colours.)

It hurt for a few days, then went away. Then two days ago, still slightly bruised, it started aching. And I realized I couldn't touch it. I hemmed and hawed, and finally got scared into going to the doctor by a friend of mine who started talking about blood clots and such (thanks, Claude!).

The point of all this prelude is that we managed to navigate our way through seeing a doctor without an appointment, getting an X-ray, getting a diagnosis, and getting my toe taped - which was the longest part of the whole process (the nurses' clinic was closed that day, so the doctor had to do it), and was something I could have done myself, being that I used to be an EMT. And we did all this mostly in Hebrew.

In the US and Canada (probably in England & SA, too, I assume?), when you get an X-ray, the technicians are extra careful about asking if you're pregnant, and putting the big lead vest on you, and explaining what's going on.

Yeah. Not here. When my name was called (along with something sounding like "codor regel" which made no sense to me, because "codor regel" means football, and I certainly wasn't there for field goal tryouts), no one was waiting for me, I was facing 3 doors that said X-ray, none of which were open, and when I asked the woman in the one office that was open which room I should go into, she responded with the Israeli equivalent of, "how the hell should I know?!"

Eventually, someone came looking for me, asked me what was being X-rayed, put my foot in the camera field, tossed a very small lead sheet at me and left. Good thing I knew where to put the sheet. He came back, moved my foot, and left. He came back into the room, said, "zehu" (that's it) and left for the final time. Left me lying on the table with the lead sheet. Okey dokey, then.

I should mention that he slammed the door each time, and he reeked of cigarettes. Welcome to Israel :)

The very cool thing is they gave me my X-rays on a disc, so I was able to look at them myself when I got home. And you can, too!


And of course, what did we learn in Hebrew class today, the day after I needed to go to the Kupat Cholim (health clinic)? All about going to the Kupat Cholim.

Thanks. Now I'll know for next time.

May you be comforted

I don't even know where to start with this. We have ongoing assignments in Ulpan to write a story on a particular topic and read it in front of the class. The current topic is "best friend."

This morning in class, a student wrote about his first wife, who died a few years ago. Today was her yahrzeit. She sounds like she was an amazing woman, and our classmate certainly did his part in elevating her neshama (soul) today. It was a privilege to share in her story.

That's not what got to me. Well, yes, her story did touch me, of course. But in any classroom, anywhere, this story could have been heard. Many people have lost loved ones, and have shared stories about them.

But what wouldn't typically happen in a typical classroom anywhere? You wouldn't have the entire class be attentive while the storyteller gave a learning, and then stand together while he recited Kaddish (mourner's prayer), with nearly the whole class giving the appropriate responses. You wouldn't have that followed by a little nosherei in the wife's honour. You wouldn't have all this done with the teacher's approval, encouragement and participation.

It was an honour to be a part of this man's observance of his first wife's yahrzeit, and I am grateful he felt this was something he wanted to share with his classmates. And I am so grateful to be in a country where this didn't seem at all out of place. To anyone.

May her memory be for a blessing.

Pleased to make your refrigerator

Everyone who has tried to learn another language has their major gaffe story. My favourite came from one of the aliyah lists I'm on: A woman confused the word "mishcafayim" with "michnasayim." Mishcafayim means glasses. Michnasayim means pants. She told someone, "I didn't recognize you with your michnasayim on."

Oops.

Mine today wasn't so bad. In Hebrew, there are two different words that mean "know." To know something is "yodea." To know someone is "makir."

And the word for refrigerator is "m'karer."

So, yes, I refrigerate him very well.

We learns the Hebrew

Okay, we confess: we cheated. We couldn't bear the thought of getting up before 6am to ride a bus full of little schoolkids to ulpan today. Starting ulpan was stressful enough. So we took a taxi. It wasn't bad, NIS* (₪) 38, and for some reason, the driver rounded it DOWN to ₪ 35. Yes, DOWN. Maybe he felt bad for us after we told him we were going to the primary school for ulpan (Hebrew school).

First the transportation good news. Someone offered us a lift home today, right to our door. Wonderful. There is another couple in our class who drive and live right near a bus line that goes to our house. It's also very walkable from their building. We'll beg talk to them tomorrow about possibly carpooling. The other bit of potentially good news is our neighbourhood #2 bus stops near stairs that lead up to Rehov (street) Reuven, where the ulpan is. We'd never know that from the schedule, and looking at the map, the bus stop looks too far from Reuven to walk easily. So tomorrow, we try the #2! One bus, one route, maybe 10 minutes or so of walking (or climbing, if you want to get technical).

Ulpan was good. It started out a little chaotic, but eventually the teachers broke the class into two groups. Then our instructor had each of us give our name and tell where we're from, where we live, if we have family here. All in Hebrew, of course. Then we all had to write our little stories. Same information, plus a sentence or two about what we do for work. That was fun. I write just fine, but I don't know how to spell anything. Hebrew is very logical, so I think it's a relatively easy language to learn, but spelling is a different story all together. There are so many ways to indicate the "ah" sound, two letters for "v", two letters for "k", two letters for "s", two letters for "t" - there are endless possibilities for some words! Somehow, the teacher understood my story.

At 10:30 she explained that would normally be our break time, but today, we could go home. Since everything is stone and marble, every sound echoes, so sometimes it's a little hard to hear. And even though our teacher promised to speak slowly, sometimes she would go too fast for me. And everything is "rak Ivrit" (only Hebrew), no English allowed. But we got through it. Ultimately, the only mishap of the day was trying to find the ladies room in the boys yeshiva. We had permission to use the bathroom in the administrative office, so I asked someone to show me where the "sherutim" (bathrooms) are. I went through the door I was shown and saw a sink and two completely enclosed stalls (which is typical here). There was a third door with a sign on it.

However, it wasn't until I came out of one of the enclosed stalls that I realized the sign on the third door said "nashim" (women). When I left through the main door, I looked back at it and saw the sign that said "gever/nashim" (men/women). Obviously, the two stalls were for the men. Weird setup. Thank G-d, no one came in while I was in the stall.

I wondered why the seat was up...

Tomorrow: the bus!

*NIS = Israeli New Shekel (₪), the currency here. Yes, it should be INS. But that has bad connotations to American immigrants.

Ehhhhhh, ech omrim,* "Charlie Foxtrot?"

So we finally got news of our ulpan (Hebrew classes) and when it starts and where it is. It starts next week, and it's in a school in the neighbourhood of Buchman**.

Alllllll the way on the other side of Modi'in.

Now, you may have heard that the buses in Modi'in bite the big one. This is even more true if you live in the northwest of Modi'in and need to get to Buchman in the south. There is no bus that goes from here to there ("you can't get there from here"). To get to ulpan we would have to take a #1 to some point in town, then walk to a #3 bus stop. And assuming we wouldn't have to wait too long for the #3 (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), we would still have what looks to be about a 20-minute walk from the #3 drop off to the school where the ulpan is being held. And remember, Connex doesn't do transfers, so we're talking 8 bus tickets a day for the two of us. Every day. For the pleasure of about an hour-and-a-half trip each way. To go maybe 5 kilometres.

But see, I just interrupted myself to double-check the Connex website and discovered there is no #3 that would get us to the school on time! We'd have to either take the 5:45am or the 8:25am. Except class starts at 8:30am. So rantus interruptus; I have to interrupt my rant with a new improved rant.

:sigh:

We were told the reason classes are being held in Buchman is because there is free space at the school. That's fine. But then, provide transportation. Most of us new olim (immigrants) don't have cars. And the Ministry of Absorption knows that. The Ministry also knows how bad the buses are. We were told there's are new buses for the schoolchildren, particularly the #10. That's great, the #10 stops near our house and goes right to the school. Except the #10 runs only once at 7am (and how, exactly, do we get home?) AND the Ministry of Education has not agreed yet that we adults can ride the schoolkids' buses.

Which actually is fine by me. It's hard enough when I have to go through each day speaking like a 5 year old and dealing with the frustrations of not being understood, and not knowing enough to make myself understood. It's embarrassing enough to stand in the middle of a store playing charades trying to get a store clerk to understand that I need a long shower curtain rod because I have a very long bathtub space. Do I really need to have what's left of my dignity buried under some kid's Dora the Explorer backpack by being the only adults on a children's schoolbus? No thank you. I love kids. I don't want to ride on a schoolbus with them.

We've asked the Ministry to compile a list of everyone in our neighbourhood who is registered for ulpan. Maybe someone has a car, and we can all carpool and share gas costs. Maybe there's enough of us to make it worthwhile for Connex to add another bus for the ulpan students. Maybe there's enough of us over here to make it affordable to split a taxi van; maybe the Ministry will arrange a van. Maybe maybe maybe.

All I know is trying to learn a new language as an adult, and living in a country where you don't speak the language is stressful enough. We don't need merely getting to the classes to be anxiety-inducing as well.


*ech omrim = "how do you say"
** Buchman is pronounced, "booochman" with a "ch" like "l'chaim!"