Coming home

The airport logistics were unnecessarily complicated because Spesh needed to pick up someone the same day he was dropping me off. In the end, it didn't matter--he got me there when I needed to get there and ushered me through the security line. He's been told that a single woman traveling alone is "suspect" and his presence makes of less interest to them. Given Spesh's (radical) politics, it's somewhat hard to believe, but he's not on "their" list (yet), so maybe it's true.

When we arrived at the airport, we found the right line to stand in and Spesh answered all initial questions in Hebrew. I smiled a lot and flashed my passport a few times. Finally, the time came for my individual interview.

Those of you who haven't traveled overseas should know that this situation is a little different than in the US. Here, there are only those two questions--which they don't even always ask out loud anymore--did you pack your bags yourself? Have they been in your control until now?--and then the x-ray and magnetic thing you walk through.

In Israel, and Europe, they have those things too. But in Israel, and some parts of Europe, they also will come into the line, before you actually check in, before you go through the x-ray machine and ask you a whole bunch of peculiar personal questions. My interview went something like this:

Cute security guy: What was the reason for your visit?
J: I came for my nephew's wedding, and [indicating Spesh] to see my friend.
CSG: When did you arrive?
J: On the 12th.
CSG: The 12th [examining my passport] it says here you arrived on the 17th.
J: Oh, right. Right. I was here for twelve days. Right 12 days. I got here on the 17th.
CSG: Yes, that makes sense. So, do you speak Hebrew?
J: No.
CSG: Did you ever study Hebrew?
J: Yes, in religious school.
CSG: Sunday school?
J: Yes. Sunday school.
CSG: I'm sorry to ask, but are you a member of a congregation now?
J: No.
CSG: Do you celebrate any Jewish holidays?
J: Yes, um, Passover, Chanukah...[I completely forgot to mention the HIGH HOLIDAYS]
CSG: Ok, thank you. Have a good flight.

That's what I can remember anyway. Spesh stood next to me the entire time, waited while they put my bag through the bomb-sniffing machine and while I officially checked in. When it was time to pass to the passengers only area, we said goodbye. Big hug.

Then I was on my own.



I hung out in the lounge. I'd saved a few shekels so I could buy a coffee. I came home with some change in my pocket, but only a few bucks total.

The flight home was fine, though I was stuck in middle seats the entire way. What can you do?

Altogether, it was a good trip. I learned a lot.

Barkai, Akko and Haifa

My last full day in Israel started in Barkai—the kibbutz where Spesh grew up. He said he had an idea for our day--we should drive to Akko, a coastal town in the North.

I said, "I'm a bad guest, I don't have any suggestions."

"You're a good guest, you'll do anything I like." Ok then.

The plan was to drive his sister to school, which was in the same general direction as Akko, continue on to Akko, loop back towards Haifa and pick up the sister around 3:30pm. We got started at 9:00am.

Spesh had left his glasses in Tel Aviv so I volunteered to do the driving. I'd spent a couple of days driving around Jerusalem so I was relatively comfortable with this, and presumably not breaking any laws. It went fine, but after we dropped the sister off, I started to feel very drowsy. I suspected that I might be coming down with a cold. I told Spesh that after we got to Akko, he'd be doing the driving.

I didn't know anything about Akko, but it was clearly a tourist destination. There is an old city and a bunch of "Templar" walls, presumably remaining from the time of the crusades. We didn't go into any of the museums or pay to go into any of the ancient tunnels, but it was still interesting just poking around.



Because I was feeling so-so, we walked slowly. Spesh didn't even rush me. He would get ahead of me when I stopped to take pictures, though.


The market wasn't only for tourists.


This kid actually smiled at me, so I took his picture. The family was Muslim.


We were eating in a restaurant in Akko market and Spesh noted that we were the only Jews in the place without guns. Scary but true. Several groups of young (teenage?) people came in carrying semi-automatic rifles. Spesh said, "She's not even old enough to have a boyfriend, much less a gun." I had to agree.

After lunch, we saw this group, with their armed escorts on the left (one is grinning at me):


I said, "I don't get it, why do all those groups have guys with guns hanging around."

"They have to."

"What?"

"It's the law. All school groups have to have armed escorts."

"So are they paid? Are they soldiers?"

"They're volunteers—from the PTA. Or maybe the school pays them something. But the state provides the guns."

"Damn." I was surprised. It's amazing what you can get used to.

Here I am, looking at the sea.


We had dessert. This is knafe (accent on the 'e'). (The pic is actually of knafe from Nazareth, but it's the same stuff. The version in Akko looked a little different and didn't taste quite as good.)


We spotted some posters for the party Spesh planned to vote for:


It's an Arab party named "Balad" and they didn't even bother to print the posters in Hebrew. Not worth the trouble.

After the walking and eating, it was time to drive to Haifa. The drive would have gone a lot more quickly if Spesh hadn't pulled over three times to take calls on the cell phone. All business, he assured me, except for the call from his girlfriend. And the one from his friend. Even those had something to do with the fundraiser he was planning for Saturday.


By the time we got there, I was too tired to walk around, but we didn't really have time for that anyway. We drove through the town, which is tucked into a steep hill. It's the oldest modern city in Israel and one of the most integrated. It's a very pretty town. We got a little lost trying to get out of the city and we thought we'd be late picking up Spesh's sister. Somehow we made it right on time.

A view of Haifa:


The drive home was fun because we had a lively discussion about the pros and cons of raising children "kibbutz" style. In their kibbutz, and many others, after the age of three months all children lived separately from their parents in age-determined "children's houses." They spent a certain amount of time each day (from 4pm-8pm) with their parents and other siblings, but all basic care, sleeping, schooling, etc. took place in the children's houses. Spesh declined to talk about his personal experiences, but said the purpose of this style of child raising was to instill autonomy in the kids. The children took an active role in their upbringing and education. They had input into how things were run and what they did. This was purposeful. The sister was not as positive about the experience and said she would have given up some autonomy for a closer relationship with her siblings.

I argued too, because I feel like a pretty autonomous person, but I knew that kind of argument I was making was too anecdotal to mean much. We kept trying to get Spesh to share his personal feelings, but he steadfastly refused. I understand why, but as I said, we were interested in hearing more about him. We didn't hear it. Maybe another time.

We got back to the kibbutz and continued the conversation, in a more modified form, with his parents, particularly his mother. I got along with this family very well. It's like I'd known them for a long time already. During an after dinner conversation with Spesh's mom and sister, he retreated in the study/bedroom to make phone calls.

When he reemerged, he told me we'd been invited to a party in Tel Aviv. I didn't want to go and we decided to stay at the kibbutz. We did, however, make a housewarming call on a family who had just finished remodeling their tiny kibbutz house. The husband/father was an age-cohort of Spesh's. Spesh, his mom and I made the visit. The house was two bedrooms, one bath and an open-plan kitchen/living room. The family was mom, dad and two kids, all living together. Spesh's mom said it was the house where she'd lived when they first came to the kibbutz. Three families used to share the space, each getting one room. The configuration was completely different then, and, of course, the kids slept elsewhere.

The children's houses when away in the '90s, particularly during the first Gulf War. Now the kids live with their parents. There have been a lot of changes on the kibbutz.

After that, it was time to go to sleep. We had to leave by 6:30am to get to the airport the next moring. Yet, we managed to stay up late again watching a movie on tv. This time it was Wimbledon, something we'd both seen before. Cute, but no Groundhog Day.

From Jerusalem to Tel Aviv

A few more details about Shabbos. I keep remember the good parts after I get everything written. Yehuda, my nephew, the newlywed, and his new wife, Avital, were late to the lunch on Saturday. Very late. Over an hour late. Not only that, but he'd been a no-show to Shul (aka Synagogue) that morning.

On Friday night I witnessed a discussion between Yehuda and my brother (entirely in Hebrew, translated for me later). Yehuda came over and said he was relieved that he would be called to (read) the Torah on Saturday. My brother, B2, said, Oh, but you will. Then began a lot of Yehuda arguing his case that he wouldn't have to, it wasn't important, etc.

In the Ashkenazi tradition, the groom is called to the Torah the Saturday before the wedding. And Yehuda had read from the Torah that day. In the Sephardic/Yemeni tradition, the "groom" reads on the Saturday after the wedding. Yehuda was balking at having to do this twice.

According to my brother, this reluctance is due to shyness. I'm not so sure. "Shy" isn't exactly how I would describe Yehuda, but B2 knows him better than I.

A boyhood friend of Yehuda's showed up at the Saturday lunch expressly for the purpose of making a speech in his honor. He said to B2 (my brother), "Did you forget to invite Yehuda." B2 laughed.

A woman at my table said a few times, "Are they both late sleepers? They must have slept late."

B2 said, "I don't think that's it." I had to agree with him.

The happy couple did arrive eventually. And graciously accepted all tributes. Yehuda even made a speech. However, he had not read from the Torah that morning.

---

Sunday

I didn't leave myself much time in the morning, but I thought I could sneak out for coffee before heading to the train station. Dad and Susan were gone, though they left a note telling me where to drop off the keys (mailbox #6). After I had my coffee, I ran back and gathered my things. I'd left myself about 12 minutes for the taxi ride to the train.

Somehow, we made it. The cab driver knew when the train left so he took an alternative route when we ran into some traffic. I got on the train a minute or so before it left. Not bad.

The ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv was a little over and hour and uneventful. The scenery for the first part of the journey was remarkable. We rode through an isolated valley where the hills were covered with terraced gardens and olive orchards. I saw an older woman and a donkey. Later, I saw two young men sitting on the ground, talking, with a donkey nearby. It was almost completely undeveloped--in the modern sense.

When I told Spesh about it, he said, "They're planning to get rid of all that." What a shame. Apparently, mostly non-Jews farm there.

Spesh was waiting for me at the train station. I have to say, this trip required the least possible knowledge of where I was going and how to get there of any vacation I've taken in recent memory. That was kind of nice.

We hoped on in a ten-seat mini-bus called a "service." These mini buses follow the municipal routes but will stop wherever you request them to and charge a little less than the regular bus fair. How much do they cost? I have no idea because Spesh paid both times we took one.

We went to Spesh's girlfriend's place. "A" gave me a friendly greeting and sat and talked to us for a while. Then Spesh said he was hungry, I said I could eat and we three went to lunch. They took me to a neighborhood called the "Yemeni Vineyard" and we ate traditional Yemeni food in a tiny hole-in-the-wall place. Fried dough with a tomato spread and soup. All very tasty.

We strolled around a bit after our early lunch; it was around noon. A had to run errands and she left us on our own. Spesh toured me around a bit, showing me a clothing market which he claimed sold "high fashion" items at a discount. It was not even name-brand stuff--rather off-label, discontinued lines and the like. And you had to paw through it to find anything good. Spesh said, "This is where my mother buys clothing for me. I should buy her something and see how she likes it."


We continued to stroll and he took me to the tree lined Ben Gurion Boulevard. Like a few other streets in Tel Aviv, this one had a wide pedestrian/bike path lined with benches in the middle of the street. We were both tired, so we found a bench and sat for a while. Spesh called his friend, G, the women who had been with him to meet me at the airport and she came to meet us.

Ben Gurion Boulevard:


We walked some more. I have to say, those two were on their cell phones A LOT. Usually, they took turns so someone was free to talk to me. Annoying, especially when you can't even eavesdrop.

We were hungry again, at least G and I were, and we found some falafel. Very good. Spesh said, "It's better than that place in Adams Morgan, right?"

"Yes."

"Everything's better--the toppings, the bread."

"Yes. The pita is much better and the falafel are softer and hotter. But the fries there are good. They don't even have fries here."

"Harumph." [Not really.]

While we walked, I kept stopping to take pictures. I tried to take pictures of things one couldn't find on postcards. Then again, I didn't buy any Tel Aviv postcards. Oh well.

I apologized to G for slowing us down. She didn't mind. "It's good when someone is taking pictures. You pay attention to things you wouldn't see otherwise." Ideally, anyway.

I joked about all the cat pictures I was taking. "It's so strange for me to see all the feral cats."

"It's just like it's strange for Israelis to see all the squirrels in America."

"I guess so. There sure aren't any squirrels around here."

"Yes, but you have them as pets too. So it's the same."

"Uh, well, no. No one keeps a squirrel as a pet. They're not domesticated."

"Really? They're not pets."

"No, they're too wild." Spesh was on his phone during this exchange so he missed the entire thing.



After a while, G had to head home and Spesh and I go fetch my things. It was 5pm by then. A came to the door in a towel and was annoyed with Spesh. He said we could catch a 5:15 train or a 5:30 train. We barely made it to the 5:30 train, taking another mini-bus. The train ride was fine but not as pretty as the ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. Spesh's mother picked us up at the train station.

The family fed us well, as usual, but I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. Spesh's parents and sister wanted to take a walk, but his mom didn't want to leave all the dishes undone. I said, "We'll take care of it." And they practically ran out of the house. I realized I'd volunteered Spesh, so I didn't mind doing most of the dishes myself.

Even though we both almost fell asleep at 8pm watching tv, we still stayed up past 11pm watching yet more tv. First Groundhog Day and then The South Park Movie. Spesh later commented that "That South Park Movie was crap, but Groundhog Day was good."

"I thought it would be too sentimental for you." I said.

"I'm a sentimental kind of guy."

"Really."

More dining

When I was helping set up for dinner on Friday, I took a picture through a window in the Yeshiva. Adina saw me and asked, "Are you taking a picture of the wall?" I hadn't even realized it was there. So close.

This is the picture I was taking:


I said, "I guess I am, but I didn't know it. So is that an Arab town on the other side?"

After Adina pointed out the presence of the wall, I took a second picture:


"Yes, but there are also some Jewish towns on the other side."

"Oh, so is that a problem? Can they get across?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

I asked, "What do you think about it?"

She said, "I think it's ugly."

I laughed. "I agree. But are you for it or against it?"

"I don't know. I not sure what I think. I'm nothing."

I said, "I'm not sure you can be nothing on this. You know, my friend, Spesh, is very against it. He does a lot of protesting and work against it."

"Well, give him my number; maybe he can convince me."

I like this kid; she's a good sport. And funny. And not so much a kid anymore--she's 18. I like that everyone in my family has a good sense of humor; it helps bridge the cultural divide.

---

Saturday meant more entertaining in the same makeshift dining hall. Lunch was to be served at 11:00am. But "Kiddush" was available at 9:30am. I woke up in time to be there and help out. A light-ish supper was served at 5pm. Yes, it was a lot of eating. Luckily, my sister-in-law is a very good cook, so I liked almost everything she served.

A very cute phenomenon was the way the little kids (girls and boys) lined up to help set up the tables. Before people sat down, common dishes with salads were placed on the tables. My nieces worked in the kitchen dishing them out and plating the other courses. The little kids would come in and get instructions: two of these at each table. On Saturday, there wasn't as much to place, but I made one little boy's day by handing him a bowl of potato chips to put out on the table. He gave me a big smile as headed out to do his job. That particular boy was one of 12 children.

I expect little kids to be a little shy when they first meet me. It's a good instinct. But, usually, kids warm up to me and start smiling in just a few minutes. That was not the case with the orthodox kids. They all regarded me with suspicion upon first meeting and would turn the other way or hide behind their mothers. They might not run away but just look at me blankly--no smile at all. After two or three meetings with a kid, they might warm up to me, but there were a couple who never did.

I'm not sure when I asked my brother these questions--it was either Friday night or Saturday afternoon, but I finally got some answers. The first was about the name for the meals we'd been having all week, "Sheva Bruchas." I asked him what it meant. "Literally, 'seven blessing.'"

"That's what I thought!" I found out that at each meal you recite seven blessings; there can be any number of celebratory meals.

"Didn't you notice that we were taking turns saying the blessings?" My brother asked.

"I noticed last night, but at the other meals the men were sitting separately and I couldn't rally tell what was going on."

"Ah. Well, the first blessing is the 'boray pre hagafen' [the blessing over the wine]."

"That one I got. But the others?"

"The other six are specifically related to the wedding--they're for the couple. So there is one glass of wine for the 'pre hagafen' and another glass of wine for the other blessings."

"Can I ask you about something else?"

"Of course."

"Well, " I said, "on my walk around residential Jerusalem the other day, I saw bread a few times, left out next to the trash, wrapped up in a bag. Do you know what that's about?'

Guess what? He did know. "Ah, good question. That's because bread is treated differently than other kinds of trash because bread is life--it's the staff of life--so you can't throw it in with the rest of the trash. You have to wrap it up. Some people feel that isn't enough, so they don't even put it in the garbage can."

"But won't it just go into the trash anyway? The trash men will just put it in..."

"Right. We just wrap it before we throw it away."

I'm not surprised--you don't push those things off to other people. It has to get into the trash anyway--if you've wrapped it, that's sufficient.

None of the 'secular' Jews I talked to had ever heard of this practice before. Please consider me the Reform knowledge repository of obscure Orthodox practices.

The meal on Saturday was a bit more relaxed than things on Friday night. No food preparation was involved, just dishing things out.

After lunch, I was completely exhausted and went to lie down. The room the family had given me was tiny, near the front of the house. I believe it was Yehuda's old room. I shut the door and read for a bit and then closed my eyes. I don't think I fell asleep.

Dad wanted to go for a walk with me, but I declined. I was feeling annoyed with him, but I can't remember exactly why. I figured he'd ask me a bunch of intrusive questions and I wasn't in the mood for that. Ora (oldest niece, age 19) went with him instead. I sat around the house for a while, reading, and then I walked outside. I encountered a little girl whose name I never learned, who was a niece of the bride's. She and I had trouble communicating due to no common language, but I'd picked up a couple words of Hebrew by then ("come," "here") along with the phrase my nieces taught me, "Ani doda shel Yehuda," which means, "I am Yehuda's aunt." I also used, "Ani ahot shel Avram Shimon." That means, "I am Avram Shimon's sister" Avram Shimon is my brother's Hebrew name, but I always call him by his English name.

So, the little niece of Avital was looking longingly at the playground across the street. She lead me there, a little annoyed that I didn't speak any Hebrew. We found my youngest niece there, playing with a friend. The four of us hung out for a while and met another boy, Yankee (nickname for Yaacov), who is 5 and a friend of the family. The girls played without me some of the time, but called in my assistance when they encountered a playground bully. They made me stand by and look at him. That didn't stop him from kicking the little niece in the rear. Yikes. My youngest niece took that moment to say, "Let's go home" (in English), so we all did.

We found Susan there, and Dad came home not long after. Yankee is one of the chattiest five-year-olds I've ever met and I dearly wish I could have understood him. At one point he ran out and came back with a picture book that had Hebrew words (with vowels!) under the pictures. A picture dictionary. What a smart kid.

My problem with Hebrew is that I should know it, or at least know a lot more than I do. I can identify the letters and their sounds--I can even recite the Hebrew alphabet due to years of Sunday school. I can say a lot of prayers, but I can't translate them. Most Hebrew on signs and in books is written without vowels, so I'm really lost. Only kiddies need vowels. The picture book was great and if Yankee had actually let me study it, I might have learned something other than that the Hebrew word for "tank" is "tank." And that "sofa" is "sofa." Oh well.

We mobilized for the next meal, after which we Americans were going to depart--for good. Dad and Susan to get on a plane, me to spend some more time with Spesh.

The last meal was even lighter and more sparsely attended than the lunch hour meal. It lasted until the end of the Sabbath.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, during Shabbos, which lasts from sunset Friday to sunset Saturday, you can't do many, many things. You can't drive, which is why we spent Friday night at my brother's house. You can't tear things (like toilet paper--there are special packets of single sheet paper set out for Shabbos), you can't turn anything on or off. If something is on, you may leave it on. In most homes there is a gas range and one burner is left on at a very low heat for the entire period. The use of timers for is acceptable. You can't spend money. You can't smoke or use the telephone. You can't carry things outside of a specifically designated area. And much, much more. It would be relaxing it if it weren't so restrictive.

Another meal, even more of a blur than usual. Hasty departures--I don't think the family realized it was the last time they would see me. I hadn't been so sure either, but I wasn't going to have time to come back to Jerusalem. Yehuda made it a point to ask us to send his and Avital's love to my other brother, his wife and all of his kids in New Jersey.

Dad drove us home and he and Susan packed to get ready for their early morning departure. They had to leave by 4:30am to be at the airport in time for their flight. I had more leeway. I called Spesh and made plans to meet him in Tel Aviv. We decided I would take the train because it was a pretty ride.

I lent Dad and Susan the computer for one last email check and chatted pleasantly with them until around 10pm when they were going to try and sleep. I don't think I did much of anything after that, not even writing wise. I'm sure I watched a movie on tv. There were just way too many uncut movies on digital cable to resist.

Shabbos

Friday. What happened on Friday? Dad and Susan went out, without me. I took it easy, then went for coffee. I believe I fiddled with my photos and wrote a little.

When I got back home, Dad and Susan where there. Dad said, "Would you mind going over to B2's now and help them set up for the dinner?"

I was in a good mood, so I took this well, "No, I don't mind. When should I head over?"

"As soon as you're ready. You'll need to pack your things for the night. We'll take a taxi and meet you there later. They need the car to help move things."

What was going on? Well, as I've mentioned, each night this week, there has been a special dinner in honor of the new couple. On Friday night, Shabbos (Sabbath) night, the family is giving a dinner for 50 or so of their closest friends. The family of the bride will attend as well. My sister-in-law and her daughters are doing most of the cooking. Some friends will provide a few of the side dishes.

I asked, "Will they feed me lunch?"

Dad said, "I'm sure they'll be noshing." Being around our Israeli family causes us to start speaking Yiddish.

I gathered my things, went out to pick up the wedding (and other) photos I'd had printed, and drove out to the homestead. I didn't even get lost on the way there.

Once there, it wasn't clear exactly what they needed me for. The girls were helping do the final Shabbos cleaning before evening fell. Tikvah (my sister-in-law) was slaving away over a hot stove. The oven had two enormous pots on it--one full of soup, the other full of "cholentz." When Tikvah caught sight of me she said, "You got here just in time!"

Well, not really. I stood around and watch them clean the house for a while. Part of this involved mopping the floor--which was accomplished a bit differently than in the States. Oshra, niece#3, dumped a bucket of soapy water on the floor and started scrubbing with a mop. It wasn't exactly a mop, though.
It was long-handled wide squeegee with a rag wrapped around the end. Oshra scrubbed and Adina (niece#2) used another "mop" to swoosh the water around the house and, eventually, out the front door. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, I asked Adina, "What do the upstairs neighbors do?"

"I don't know." But she did know. "They probably use the drain, you know, in the bathroom."

Houses in Israel often have a drain in the bathroom towards which all errant water may be directed.

Earlier we discussed how I clean my floors in DC since they are wood. You can't have standing water on wood. Oshra was a little shocked that I don't mop the floors in the entire house. She was somewhat assured when I pointed out that only one person lives in my house, as opposed to the seven in hers, so the floors don't get as dirty. I neglected to mention the cat.

After mopping was over, we loaded up Tikvah's car and my (rental) car and drove about a block to the hall. It wasn't really a hall, rather a Yeshiva (religious high school) and there were a couple of flights of outdoor steps to take before we got to the front door. We hauled food, soda, plastic plates, utensils, paper napkins, and much, much more down those steps.

Yehuda was there to help us--so it was Tikvah, Adina, Yehuda and I doing most of the hauling. When we got everything down there, Yehuda took his mom's car and left. The three of us remaining got to work arranging the study tables and benches in one of the rooms in a configuration suitable for eating. Tikvah set up a makeshift kitchen in another room.

It was hard work and I knew my shoulders would be sore the next day from all the schlepping (there's that Yiddish). The youngest niece showed up for a while to help and other friends of the family, and the other nieces, drifted in and out. I knew they were all working elsewhere, preparing food and making other arrangements.

We finally got back to the house and there was chicken schnitzel ready for us. It was a bit late, but it was enough for lunch.

I was asked to drive to Yehuda's new place to drop something off (candles) and pick something up (Shabbos kettle--to keep water hot all weekend). I took Oshra so I wouldn't get lost.

When we got there, the place was still in a bit of chaos due the couple just having moved in. What struck me was the mess of the kitchen table--crumbs, trash, an overflowing ashtray (my nephew smokes) and an half-eaten can of tuna. I wanted to laugh. They are so 20. But they are married! Avital, the new wife, was in the bed with the covers pulled up to her neck. That didn't stop her from chatting with Oshra and Yehuda in Hebrew. I waited for them to finish and took the opportunity to look around the kitchen, which is not quite finished--some cupboards still need to be hung. It's a small place, but nice enough. Fine for two people.

I rousted Oshra and we headed back to the house. Everyone took a shower and even I got a turn. Their bathroom is a little wet too, but there is a tub (no shower curtain) and a handheld shower thing, so it was possible to contain the wetness.

As soon as we were all cleaned up, friends started arriving, then Dad and Susan and we walked over to the makeshift dining hall.

Unlike all the other nights, the men and women were seated together. Each ten-person table held a family (more or less). Yehuda and Avital sat at the same table, with some of her family members. This was the first time we'd seen her family since the wedding on Sunday.

I was sitting next to my brother most of the time and I asked him about the mixed seating, "Why is there mixed seating tonight? Why is this night different from all other nights?"

B2 chuckled and said, "Mostly because Avital said she wouldn't come if she couldn't sit with Yehuda."

"Really?"

"Well, basically, that's why."

I have to say, it made me like her even more.

The dinner went on and on. There were the usual endless number of courses. And the singing (men mostly) and the praying and the speeches (mostly in Hebrew, but with more translation this time).

The meal wrapped up around 11:30 pm and the clean up commenced. Dad left first. Susan tried to get me to leave with her, "It looks like there's already too many people here. How long are you going to stay?" I just shrugged my shoulders (grumpy!) and stuck around. I'm not sure why I stayed--I just wanted to fully participate, even though I couldn't be much help. As people drifted away, I pitched in more. When it was just Tikvah and my nieces, Tikvah decided it was time to head home.

Back at the house everyone got ready for bed, my brother sat up and studied and I sat in the kitchen and had a long talk with Adina. This was the most satisfying conversation I had with any of the kids during the visit, so I'm glad I stayed late to clean.

I didn't get to sleep until after 1am, leaving me tired for the rest of the weekend. What can you do?

The Old City

The old city was tourist central. Upon entering I was assaulted, verbally, "Shopping? Speak English?" The man asked.

I said, "Yes." I know better than that.

He said, "You are American, I can tell." He walked along with me.

"Yes."

"You are shopping?"

"No."

"You have seen the wall, other things?"

"Yes."

"You are not shopping? You should help support Israel, the Jewish people."

That was a new one on me--guilt as a sales pitch. In my rush to get away from him, I found myself in the Arab quarter, walking down a narrow street crowed with tiny shops full of tourist goods. Another turn, and I was the only tourist and the shops were full of local goods--vegetables, socks, etc.

Another turn and there were no more shops, just boys playing soccer.

When I stopped to take a photo, a man walking behind me, probably in his 50's nodded and said, "That's good." After a few words, he asked me for coffee, "Just coffee, just to talk." I politely declined and he didn't insist.

After that, I found the Jewish Quarter, which my father recommended I visit. More tourists and more Jews.

I found a café and wrote a few words. Then I walked a few miles home.

The parties

Monday, I was exhausted and didn't do much. I couldn't sleep late and went out for a short walk and coffee with Dad. I can't remember much more about what we did, but it certainly involved watching movies on tv.

That evening, we attended the first of several late dinner parties given in honor of the newlyweds. These parties are like work. The Hebrew name for them is "Shevas Bruchas" which, to my ear, translates as "Seven Blessings." I might be right because there are seven blessings said for the couple as part of the wedding ceremony. (Turns out I was right; more on this later.)

The dinners are held by friends of the family. The party on Monday night was held by a couple who are good friends of my brother's and his wife's. I actually met them both, and remembered them, from my first visit to Israel. They now have a married daughter (or two?) and a grandchild. They are about 40 years old. Yowsa. About 20-30 people attended this dinner.

The Tuesday night party was held by a daughter of the family Tikvah (my sister-in-law) lived with after her adoptive parents could no longer take care of her. It's a large family and many of the siblings attended. There were about 40 people there.

On Wednesday night, the party was held by the women who work with Tikvah. About 30 people attended. Susan and I went, Dad skipped. Susan and I drove Yehuda and Avital (the new wife), home after the party. (Dad stayed home; we all stayed home tonight. Did I mention that there have been dinner parties every night this week in honor of the new couple?) As soon as we got away from the house, Avital pulled of her sheital (wig) that she's been wearing since the day after the wedding. She revealed a full head of long, gorgeous deep brown hair. She said, in Hebrew, that it was itchy. I was shocked. I have never seen a religious woman do something like that. I've known Tikvah (my sister-in-law) for over 20 years and I have NEVER seen her without her head covered. Not once. I was delighted. When I dropped them off, Avital actually walked from the car to their building without the sheital on. You have no idea how unconventional it was. I think this is a good match because Yehuda is not down with all the crazy rules.

The party on Thursday night was held by the men in the "Kollel" (Talmudic graduate school--not exactly, that's my description of it) that my brother runs with a partner. All of us Americans skipped.

The men and women sit in the same room but at separate tables. The men occasionally give speeches praising the groom and bride and including some kind of Talmudic or religious interpretation. Most of these speeches were in Hebrew, but I would sometimes get a translation. The men would also break into song or prayer and the woman would be hushed. Women were also hushed during the speeches. The men would always stand up and hold hands at some point and dance/walk around their table.

The women did not make speeches or sing. They are not allowed to sing in front of unrelated men. Men are not allowed to hear women sing.

The meals do not start until late--maybe 9pm or later--because the men have to go to evening prayers first.

When you arrive, the tables are set with plastic plates and plastic utensils, paper napkins and plastic cups and plastic tablecloths. It's the way to do it if you are having 40 people to dinner. Usually, the hosting family does not do all the cooking. Family and friends bring some of the food.

The meals have a certain sameness to them. The table is set and a first course or communal salads are set out. Someone arrives with fresh rolls and people sit down and start to eat. There is a blessing, but it is not communal. Each person says a blessing over their roll in their own time and start eating any time they like after that. For those of us who don't pray (me) we just watch and eat when we see others eating. After the salads, some kind of vegetable, stewed, is served. Then soup. Then a main course, chicken and chicken or pot roast and cold cuts--we've had all of these. More salads--tomato and cucumber, hummus, roasted vegetables, pickled cabbage, coleslaw, carrot salad--may be served, or are continually refreshed. After the meat course, there is a dessert. And, of course, bottles of water, regular soda, diet soda, soda water and fruit drink are placed on the tables. Plenty of food is available, but it is possible to limit oneself. I try most everything, but don't have seconds of anything. I haven't felt stuffed yet.

That accounts for all of my evenings except Thursday (tonight). Thursday, I did a lot of walking, had lunch with Dad and Susan, walked some more and came home, uploaded photos and wrote. Dad and Susan returned around 6pm and Susan apologized for being late--she'd said they'd be back around 5pm. I didn't care. Dad asked if I minded eating in and watching a DVD. Not at all. We walked out and got falafel and schwarma to eat at "home." It's been a good relaxing night--and great for the blog too. No one really watched the DVD. Susan went to sleep at 9pm, after dinner. Dad snoozed as the movie started and I was writing, but it was fine. We needed a good non-religious night.

Computer fiasco

The computer fiasco of March 2006 occurred on Tuesday. I was trying to sleep and Dad work me up. I'd snapped at him a couple of times already, mostly due to unconstrained grumpiness. I couldn't get to the computer until late that day, so I wrote in a longhand instead.

Some of my Tuesday thoughts:

I guess I must fit in around here because everyone starts speaking to me in Hebrew. But why shouldn't they? I would be more remarkable if they didn't. What is remarkable is that when I answer in English, "sorry," they repeat the question in English! "Where is number 1 Hanania Street?" "How much time can you put on this meter?" "Can I have your phone number?"

When I grumped out of the house on Tuesday, Dad asked, "Where are you going?"

I said, "For a walk."

"We're doing [this and that]. When will you be back?"

I said, "I don't know."

"Did your laundry dry yet?" I'd done a load the night before and hung things up on the drying rack provided in the unit. There is a washer but no dryer.

"No, not yet."

"So, we'll see you back here mid-afternoon?" Dad asked.

"Ok."

I went and walked. I bought a frozen coffee drink--like a frapuccino. It cost about the same too.

The highlight of the day: a dude on a scooter tried to pick me up. He pulled on to the sidewalk (a shockingly unremarkable event here), and asked me something in Hebrew--presumably directions (it was the second time so far). I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. I said, in English, "I'm sorry." I walked past him, but he started talking to me. I could have ignored him, but I engaged--not sure why. Maybe because he was cute. He said, in English, "You speak English?"

"Yes."

"You're a tourist."

"I'm here for my nephew's wedding. My brother lives here."

"For how long?" He asked.

"More than 20 years."

"You are from New York--your accent..."

"Yes--I live in Washington DC." I said.

"But you are from New York?"

"I was born there."

"Ok. I have more questions..." He smiled. So did I.

"You do?"

"Yes. I can have your telephone number?"

"I don't know. I'm pretty busy."

"But I can call."

"They have plans--parties for me to go to every night."

"But maybe one night, later this week--Thursday."

"I don't know."

"You won't even let me try?"

I smiled, laughed, shrugged.

He looked at me. I walked away. If I weren't thousands of miles from home, I might have given him my number.

I got back from coffee, after talking to scooter dude, and Dad and Susan were gone--my computer locked in their place. I lay down and tried to rest. I watched some tv. When I decided to go out again, around 2:30 pm, I found a note and a cell phone outside my door. Dad and Susan were at B2's house and would be there for a while. I needed to be ready to go to the party that night by 7:30pm. Fine. I went for a long walk.

I called Spesh on the cell phone and told him about my encounter. He said, "What kind of scooter? Don't be so impressed."

"It wasn't a Vespa or anything. Just a scooter."

Spesh said, "He tried pretty hard already. You didn't need to let him try anymore."

I said, "Yes, I give him credit for a good effort."

I wandered around residential Jerusalem neighborhoods. I found a UN vehicle and loads of feral cats--some were very cute. I am taking pictures of the Jerusalem cats.

On my walk, I wondered if I would get lost. I didn't have a map. But, somehow, I kept my bearings and found my way home. When I told Dad he said, "I never had any doubt you would get home. You have such a good sense of direction." I do, don't I?

My nephew's wedding (Part III)

The end of the wedding story.

The appetizers were placed precisely as the first guests arrived. I noticed immediately a difference between the Ashkenazi and the Yemeni women--the Ashkenazi women wear wigs (sheitals) to cover their hair. Almost all of the Yemeni women wore turbans (small ones) or head scarves--a few wore hats.

Why head scarves? Orthodox Judaism requires that married women cover their hair. It is acceptable to cover one's hair either with a scarf, hat or wig.

Since I'm not married, I don't have to bother. I'm still trying to attract a man so I get to show off my hair. Susan didn't cover her hair either--no one cared.

The front of the hall with the appetizers was divided with the partitions. All the good (fried) food was on the men's side--and so were the plates and flatware. The women did not hesitate to go to the men's side and load up their plates with kifte and other fried yummies.

By 7:30pm, Dad and Yehuda (my nephew, the groom) had not returned. My brother, B2, was getting a little frantic. My sister-in-law, Tikvah, was occupied guarding Dad's rental car because it was parked in a forbidden zone. The parking attendant insisted they would have to tow it.

At 7:40, the groom and his grandfather (Dad) finally showed up. Where were they? I found out from Dad while the men were off praying. Oddly, the Ashkenazi and the Yemini men did not pray together.

Yehuda needed a coffee. They found a little café behind a gas station. The staff figured out, or Yehuda told them, that they were serving a groom. They brought him some cake and ice cream and stuck a sparkler in it. Yehuda wanted to order a pizza and that's where Dad drew the line. He said, "We have to GO." And dragged him back to the hall.

And we had a bridegroom.

The ceremony itself was unintelligible--all in Hebrew--even though some of it was mic-ed. A videographer was camped directly in front of the couple making it impossible to see anything. Dad did get a few good pictures, though. This part of the event was the only time men and women were mixed together--all straining to catch a glimpse of the couple under the hupa.

I heard the glass break--the groom steps on a glass as part of the ceremony--but there were still seven blessings to go.

The ceremony wrapped up in about thirty minutes and we headed back to the hall.

The dancing commenced. There was food on the tables but few people were sitting.

The bride was the center of most of the dances. She would dance with a friend, who would fling her rather violently about, then a circle would form around them and the women would dance holding hands. It got hot and sweaty quickly.

The bride smiled for the cameras and her friends but she also looked like she was about to pass out a few times. They would sit her down in a chair so she could catch her breath and someone would bring her water. She probably did not get to eat. Later, I realized she was wearing a corset under her dress. Yikes.

After the first round of dancing, more food was brought out and Susan and I took a moment to sit and eat. A couple of nieces at a time joined us but they just took a few bites of food and a few sips of soda before they went back to dancing.

There was a goodly amount of food. And bottles of soda and water on the tables. Actually, the bottles, plastic, of drinks on the table is how we have been served drinks in all of the Orthodox households we've visited. Some of the food included "salads": hummus, roasted eggplant, cucumber and tomato. There was also bread. Later, there was a chicken, beef or chicken main course and dessert. All dishes were kept full.

I felt bad for Dad, all alone on the men's side. I doubt B2 had much time for him. And everyone was speaking Hebrew. Dad doesn't know a word. He's a very smart man, but he does not have a facility for languages. He's tried and tried for years to learn several different foreign languages and he's never been successful.

I stood on the edge of the dances and observed. I didn't know the footwork, but that wasn't really a problem. The Ashkenazi women were doing a modified version of the grapevine step, which is what you use to dance to the hora. The hora is a Jewish wedding dance--and it was pretty much what the women (and men) were dancing. However, I never heard "Hava Nagila" played, which is the only song at a Reform Jewish wedding to which a circle dance is done (at least in my experience).

After I had a bite to eat, I ventured back to the dance floor. I was watching the dancing (again) and a young woman who I'd met earlier that day at Tikvah's shop (she works there) took my hand and insisted I dance. She would find me whenever I wasn't dancing and include me. What a sweet thing.

My nieces did a line dance just for the bride--cute and odd. The whole group did a line dance later on and I joined in. I impressed the oldest niece with my ability to pick up the steps.

I was able to fake the steps for some of the circle dances, but the Yemeni women were doing footwork that was rather complicated. It reminded me of the circle dances I saw at the Moroccan restaurant I went for New Year's Eve. The other Ashkenazi women were also studying the footwork for the Yemeni dance and most didn't join in. The Yemeni women did not offer to teach, nor did most Ashkenazi women ask to learn. They could have, since they had the common language of Hebrew. But most of the Yemenis did not speak English so I had a hard time communicating with them. Attempts were made, by them, but mostly all we could do was smile and nod. Ah well.

Actually, this is also an issue with the bride. She does not speak English (or only a few words--she seems to understand a little). So, when I've been asked, "What is she like?" it's hard to answer. Still, I have a good impression of her. She is a good sport. She understands her role in all of the events surrounding the wedding. She is fashionable. She has a great laugh and a lovely smile. She is beautiful. I don't know that we would have the deepest conversations even if she spoke English, but I think we would get along just fine.

The dance area abutted the partitions, but there was no mixed dancing at all. Avital, the bride, did get to offically cross the barrier at least once. However, the women would peek through the cracks in the "wall" to see what the men were up to. Sometimes, women would stand on chairs and look over the partitions. I did this later in the evening and Tikvah joined me, briefly. I caught Yehuda's eye and he waved at me. You should have seen the way the men were dancing--just as vigorously as the women. They were also moving rather sensuously and holding hands. Too sexy for me, I tell ya.

Other notable dance moves--the groom tossed on a blanket and, later, hoisted into the air atop a piece of plywood. The bride was also held aloft on a piece of plywood and she tossed little bags of candy to the crowd. I was too busy taking her picture so I wasn't able to catch any candy.

Everything wrapped up--dancing and food--by about midnight. The buses--did I mention the buses?--were gone by then. Each side of the family rented a bus to bring their friends and neighbors to the wedding hall. Many people drove themselves, all of the family did, but since many folks don't have cars, the buses are a standard practice. The expected attendance was 400 people; 200 from each side--at least that many people were there. The location of the hall, just outside of Tel Aviv was a compromise--about halfway between the bride's and groom's home towns (hers is Haifa, his is, as you know, Jerusalem). The couple is living in Jerusalem, at least for the time being, just a couple of miles from my family.

After the guests left, some family remained. We sat on the men's side, at separate tables, while the men sang and prayed. When they finally finished, more offical pictures were taken.

The bride and groom went back to their new apartment in a taxi.

Cars were loaded with presents and food.

Fighting over the checks and cash commenced.

Around 2am, I got in a car with Dad, Susan and my two youngest nieces to drive back to Jerusalem. We got lost on the way back, missing the turnoff to Jerusalem, passing Tel Aviv. We finally found our way back home and dropped the girls off after 3am. The rest of the family was still not home! We got back and fell into bed.

And the parties began....

My nephew's wedding (Part II)

Poland meets Yemen

It's about 6:45pm on the day of the wedding. My family were at the hall and the first guests were yet to arrive. Dad took Yehuda on a walk and was to return by 7:10pm. I hung around the hall, took a few pictures and checked out the scene.

At an Orthodox wedding, the men and women do not sit together, dine together or dance together. The hall was divided by 8-foot partitions. They created a path that skirted the men's seating area and where the band was located. The partitions took a right turn and marked off the women's seating area--which was smaller than the men's even though the number of female guests was to be about equal to the men.

One wrinkle in this Orthodox wedding was that it was a compromise or a blending of two Jewish traditions. My brother and his community (and all of my family and most American Jews of Eastern European origins) are "Ashkenazi" as opposed to "Sephardic." The bride's family is Sephardic. Except not really. Really, they are from Yemen--her parents are the first Israeli generation. The Yemeni Jewish community is very old and their traditions are closer to biblical, some say, than the ways of the Ashkenazi. The Ashkenazi are generally people who came from Eastern Europe. They have certain customs, which are independent of how observant one is. For example, traditionally, Ashkenazi's don't name their children "in honor" of living relatives, but only "in memory" of dead ones. The Sephardi name their children "in honor." Some Hebrew pronunciations are different. And the Yemeni have their own customs--some of which are similar to Sephardic customs.

The differences between the Yemeni and the Ashkenazi really come to light in an Orthodox setting. Most of the Yemeni customs were accepted by my brother without too much trouble. A few things he insisted on. Most things they agreed on--like the separate seating and the videographer. My brother insisted on having the hupa (the canopy under which the wedding ceremony is performed) outdoors. This is a matter of no importance to the Yemenis (and the Sephardi, probably), but the Ashkenazi must have the ceremony outdoors, rain, shine, sleet or snow.

Here's an interesting difference that turning into a big problem--the wedding presents. The Yemeni's dropped off checks and cash in envelopes made available at the door. Ashkenazis gave gifts--but there is no such thing as a wedding registry. This was a bit of a problem because at the end of the wedding my sister-in-law, Tikvah, wanted to take the checks and cash home to the newlyweds. The other mother-in-law wanted to take them with her back to Haifa. They were at loggerheads and stayed at the hall until 3am counting the take. (Actually, my two oldest nieces did the counting. Tikvah sat by the front door to the hall and waited.) I said, inappropriately, to Dad and Susan that they had a Mexican stand-off. Hey, at least I got a laugh. It was resolved, but no one seems to like the bride's mother.

The wedding (Part I)

The day of the wedding, Dad and I left the house around 8:45am. Before that, I'd roused myself and walked out to find a cup of coffee. Ever since the first time I went abroad, I like to get up early in the morning and go find coffee by myself. I did it the first time I went to Florence (which was to visit Dad when he lived there for a year), and I did it here in Israel now that I had the chance. I walked down the main street in our neighborhood and passed two or three cafés before stopping at one. I ordered a cappuccino that turned out not to really be a cappuccino, but it was acceptable. I walked home, carrying it, and was way ahead of Dad and ready to go when he was.

Where were we going so early in the morning? I was going to meet my sister-in-law, Tikvah, and my nieces, so we could get pretty. They were planning to get rather prettier than I, getting hair, nails and faces thoroughly done. My plan was to have a manicure and do my own, very minimal, make up later on.

Dad was going to pick up B2 (my brother) and the groom, Yehuda, to make a visit to the cemetery. Actually to two cemeteries--that of Yehuda's grandmother, my father's first with, and to the burial place of his mother's parents (the other grandparents). Apparently that is the custom on the day of the wedding.

A side note--every wedding I've ever attended where there was a dead parent, that person was almost tangibly present. I can understand this practice.

Back to the frivolity--I'm not much of one for manicures, but I've had a few in my life. The last one was for a friend's wedding at least five years ago. It was a painful experiences because the lady cut my cuticles too close and made three fingers bleed. I haven't been back since. I bite my nails, which are soft to begin with, so a manicure is not a high priority.

But, for purposes of family bonding and vanity, I said sure. Susan (stepmother) almost said yes, but she'd just had her nails done back in the States, so what was the point?

It was ok--only one cuticle bled. The horrifying part was the extremely unhygienic conditions under which the manicure was performed. Things were re-used that should not have been, the nail debris was not contained, the clippers were not sterilized. I'm telling you, we don't know how clean we have it in America.

Niece #2, who is the sweetest, kindest girl in the world, asked if I was having my hair done. I said I'd do something but I wasn't sure what. She said, "Maybe my mother will do something for you." You know the end to that story (see picture in previous post)!

I watched Niece #3 have her hair turned into a frothy, Barbie-like confection (see picture in previous post). Tikvah could tell it wasn't the right thing for me. She asked if I wanted her to do something. I said, "Maybe." Then I said, "I'd love it if you could do something for me." And I sat myself down in her chair.

And what did she do? Something special that didn't hurt and was totally "me." Fancy but not ostentatious. She used a couple dozen bobby pins (33 to be exact, I counted when I took my hair down), a lot of hair spray and her imagination--and knowledge of my tastes--and in about 15 minutes she fixed me up just right. She worked very hard that day--fixing my hair and that of her four daughters--but she remained calm and cheerful through it all.

After they finished up with the polishings, waxings and blow-dryings we all headed to our respective homes.

I took a cab back to the apartment. The cab driver spoke no English and did not understand my pronunciation of the street where I'm staying. I still can't say it correctly. I did convey the name of the main street that insects my street, so we got going. It was a situation where I understood most of what he was saying--not the actual words but what he would have been saying in that situation. For example, "On which end of the main street is your street located?" I couldn't have answered that one anyway. Or, "Will you know it when we get there?" The answer to that was, "yes," but when did he ask it? I said, "lo" (no) and "kin" (yes) and "beseder" (all right) a lot. And "todah" (thanks). And somehow we got there, when he finally correctly interpreted my mispronunciation.

The plan was to meet Dad and Susan back at the apartment and be ready to go by 4:00pm. We left around 4:15pm.

We arrived at B2's place to pick him for the drive to the wedding. My dress is sleeveless, which is why I have the white cardigan draped over it in the picture, so I would be properly covered. When B2 sees me he says, "You're going to be covered?"

I said, "Yes, that's why I have this sweater." It had been a little warm in the car on the way to his place, so I wasn't fully buttoned up. I started buttoning.

B2 said, "I can loan you a shirt if you need it." He smirked a little and walked into the hallway.

I said, "But that would be man's clothing--and it would be improper to wear men's clothing." The rule is men wear men's clothing, women wear women's clothing. The end.

From the other room, B2 said, "Oh, you remember--very good!"

I muttered, "Hoisted on his own petard." The triumphs with B2 are small and one must savor them.

He did approve of my outfit when it was fully buttoned up. Not as attractive as the dress without the sweater, but not bad. It wasn't like I was going to meet any boys that night.

On the drive to the hall, B2 made a joke about passing a Coke-a-Cola bottling plant. "When you start to feel thirsty, you'll know it's coming up." I said it wasn't subliminal if you could see it. Then B2 told a story about reading one of the Curious George books to the kids when they were little, "I didn't remember the story but all of a sudden I got the taste of spaghetti in my mouth. Then I turned the page...and there was Curious George in a bowl of spaghetti!" We all laughed. B2 is very sweet.

When we arrived at the hall at 6:30pm, the groom, Yehuda, didn't want to go straight in. Perhaps first I should tell you the plan for the wedding:

7:00pm--Official start time. Appetizers available, guests start to arrive.
7:45pm--Rabbi arrives.
8:00pm--Wedding ceremony under the Hupa.
8:30pm--Dancing, eating, dancing, eating--until midnight or so.

My sister-in-law and nieces planned to arrive early, around 6pm, to take some pictures. The groom wanted to arrive no earlier than 7pm.

B2's plan was for Dad (aka Grandpa) to take Yehuda off somewhere to hang out until he was ready to be officially present.

That is pretty much what happened.

Part II tomorrow....

Wedding preparation

I'm too tired to write more, but I'll leave you with this...

My fabulous wedding hair, courtesy of my sister-in-law:



Niece #3's astonishing wedding hair:


My wedding outfit:


Yep, we're just that pretty. Maybe I'll get a picture of the wedding hair in the wedding dresses later. The girls, my nieces, are wearing formal gowns. I feel slightly déclassé in comparison, but they confirmed that only the close family is supposed to be that dressed up. Well, they're stuck with me and they don't seem to mind.

I'm putting on my make up in a few minutes; then it's off to the races.

Full updates later....

(The place Dad rented for me is VERY nice and there is free WiFi--but of course!)

Longest first day ever

As you know by now, I arrived in Israel safe and sound. Made it off the plane, through passport control and baggage claim. I came through the meeting point, but where was Spesh? I walked to the right...I walked to the left. Nope. There were a variety of tall young men with dark brown hair, but no Spesh. I wondered if I should get some money. I wandered far to the left and there he was, sitting down with a friend. I waved, he saw me and jumped up, surprised.

"When did you come out?"

"Just now."

"I didn't see you."

"Well, you wouldn't have, sitting way over here."

"Don't you have a black jacket? I thought you would be wearing a black jacket."

I glanced at my blue and white fleece, "No."

"Could you go back and get it?"

"Sure...just hang on!"

"I'm sorry, there was no excuse for that." He introduced me to the friend and she took my bags. I asked Spesh if I should get some money and he said I wouldn't need any for a while. Then I told him he needed to buy me a soda and he did.

We drove into Tel Aviv proper and dropped off the friend. Then we headed to the kibbutz.

The drive went by in a blur though I tried to pay attention to the landscape. When we stopped for gas I demanded more money so I could buy water and a chocolate bar.

The family home was very 1970's. Small, neat and full of Danish modern furniture--reminding me of a few pieces that I have. The parents were extremely kind and welcoming and happy to meet me. There was a sister--who I didn't know much about, but who I liked right off. Over dinner, Spesh became completely silent. Except to complain about the potatoes, which were too salty.

After dinner, we went to a Purim party at the dining hall. Yes, it was a couple of days after Purim and it wasn't much of a party, but it was hoot. There was a light supper (of which we did not partake), some tasty cookies and a copious amount of alcohol. I had one drink and I was ready to go home.

By the time we got home, I could barely keep my eyes open. I think we watched part of a movie on tv with his dad and then I trundled myself off to bed around 10pm Israel time. As expected, I woke up around 6:45am. A very good sleep.

Spesh and I decided, vaguely, what to do that day. First, I talked to him about the bath. The bathroom, while small, was perfectly adequate--but it was of the type I've encountered in Holland where the whole bathroom is the shower. I'm scared of baths like that--how do you keep the whole room from getting soaked? The answer? You don't. You just minimize. And there is a mop right there to swoosh everything towards a drain in the center of the floor.

Oh, another thing about Israel--all floors in all houses are made of stone. I'd forgotten. I should have packed slippers. They're not optional around here.

After a quite enormous and tasty breakfast provided by Spesh's parents, he took me out to pick avocados. It was just a short walk from the house--but we could not find a single avocado. Spesh told me over and over that he had seen tons of them just the day before. But we were out of luck.

Instead, we took a long walk, through the fields, past some scary, alien looking trees that are grown for lumber (to make pressboard). We passed through a locked gate and finally, it was time to turn back. Spesh didn't want to retrace our steps, so we took a route a few yards up the hill, along a line of trees. Unfortunately, where this route met the fence, there wasn't a gate--we walked along the fence and then found ourselves on the side of a highway. I was not pleased and grumped at Spesh about it after about 15 minutes of highway walking.

We cut back towards the kibbutz and ended up at the dairy. The cows and calves mooed at us, but only the youngest ones weren't skittish. Spesh said, "The babies will suck your finger." Sure enough, it was true, and I walked around with some cow slobber on my hand for a while. Very cute, though.

After a visit to a nature preserve with a tiny spring--it also involved skirting a locked gate--and hanging out with some of Spesh's kibbutz friends--we plotted the rest of the day.

Spesh decided to drive to Nazareth and eat, then to Jerusalem. Before dropping me at the apartment Dad had rented for me, we would stop by and see Spesh's girlfriend, A, at her parents' house.

On the drive to Nazareth--
Spesh: When DrJ was here, I made up a story about Jesus jumping off that mountain. Then when we got to the top of the mountain--and it was true!

I laughed and laughed.

We ran into hoards of Japanese tourists. Spesh said, "Do you think they know they're in a tourist area?"

I said, "Probably, but there are tons of locals around so they may not get it."

After we ate, we took a very long drive to Jerusalem.

We found our way to A's place. Very nice people. They fed us some sweet apple kugel.

While we were there, Dad called on Spesh's cell phone wondering where we were. We said we were on the way. A came with us to make sure we wouldn't get lost.

Spesh and A came in to meet Dad and Susan (stepmother). Handshakes all around! The place was big, new and very pleasant. Dan and Susan have a one bedroom; I have a studio. Smaller than the studios I've lived in, but much nice than your average hotel room.

Almost as soon as I arrived, after Spesh and A left, it was time to head over to B2's (my brother). We go there just in time for Havdalah.

It was great to see the family. Everyone was there, all four nieces and the prospective groom. They were happy to see us too. There were hugs all around (except between the adult men and women--it's not permitted). It's another world but family is family. They're all so big and grown. Yowsa.

I finally had the thought that oldest nephew will potentially have babies soon. Scary. He is just much too young for that. Hopefully they will wait.

The best laid plans...

Washington Dulles Airport

I had hoped to carry on my luggage. I have a small rolling bag and a medium-size backpack. But, no luck; they are a bit more strict on international flights.

The flight is also overbooked, so I'm getting a middle seat. In fact, I could have volunteered to fly tomorrow and they would have paid for a hotel and given me $600. I know, I should have volunteered. But, I hate changing plans. I'd miss a night with Spesh and I really would miss it. I would get there Saturday, not Friday. The wedding is Sunday. That extra day is going to make difference between feeling slightly human and felling like an alien being. So, I didn't volunteer. And I get a middle seat. And I had to check a bag. Blah.

When I got to the airport, I had a tremendous headache. I took a Dramamine for the bus ride, which was smart because I would have suffered otherwise. Not sure if the headache is a side effect of that ride or not.

Despite the drug cornucopia I'm bringing, I failed to get any headache medicine from the rolling bag before I checked it. Doh.

Near the gate there is a sparsely stocked shop with magazines, candy and soda. And a few tiny sized travel items. There was aspirin for sale. I comparison shopped--4 extra strength for $1.49 or 4 regular strength for $1.69. What's up with that? I bought the extra strength. I can add them to the air sickness kit.

There is also a fancy wine shop near the gate. How odd.

This wing of the international terminal at Dulles is tremendously crowded. The use has outgrown the space. There is a Wendy's nearby and I almost bought a Frosty but I decided the line was too long. Next time? I'm sure they'll have ice cream in Israel. I've been craving ice cream recently.


On the plane

I forgot how smooth the ride is on the wide body jets. Love me some 747. And the food--so much food! I defeated the good intentions of my steward when he served me the snack first and I passed it to the fellow to my right. But I learned my lesson and graciously gave him my requests first whenever he came back to my row. The stewardesses simply served us in order. I can't recall a single time being served first on an airplane because I'm a woman.

Frankfurt Airport

The flight arrived about an hour late because of strong headwinds, which are very unusual when traveling from west to east, as we were. My 2.5 hour layover became a very good thing.

They bussed us from the plane to the terminal where all the signs pointing to the "C" gates (what I needed) were hidden. I found one sign and headed up an escalator. I looked longingly at the shops and restaurants I couldn't patronize due to lack of Euros. And that's really stupid because I have 60 Euros at home which I never exchanged from my trip to Holland a year and a half ago. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Not that I had time to stop, but maybe I would have any way at the "Coffee and Milk" bar.

When I got to the top of the escalator, I couldn't spot any signs for the "C" gates. Again. I asked someone at the information counter, "Where is C?"

"It's there." He answered in a tone that indicated that he thought I was an idiot for not seeing the ONE sign that said "C" on that level. There were easily 5-10 signs saying "B" and "D" and only ONE for C. I muttered, "Fuck you." Yep, I was just that pissed. Remember, it was 3am my time and I didn't really sleep. I sort of slept and some German dude was giving me attitude. Grumble.

I wended my way to the gate and had to pass through not one, but two, security check points. These functioned rather differently than those in the US. Though I've found that the rules are slightly different in different US airports. Here, I had to take the computer out of the backpack, but not out of it's thin case. I could put my purse and coat in the same bin with the computer. I could not hold on to my boarding pass. Both times I was given a thorough, arms aloft pat down with a wand. There were equal numbers of men and women working at each check point so the pat downs were administered by someone of the same gender. At the second checkpoint, after my bags had gone through the x-ray, but before I could retrieve them, and after the pat down, I was asked to sit down and take off my shoes. I complied and the lady (not the pat down lady) rubbed my feet and took my shoes and passed them through the x-ray machine. She brought them back to me, I put them on and retrieved my luggage.

Now I'm in the waiting area for the last leg of the journey. A soda machine and a snack machine that only accept Euros are taunting me. The restrooms are outside of the gate area so I have to wait. And, according to the computer clock it's 3:42am. It's 9:42am Frankfurt time. I have another 3 hours and 45 minutes of flying before I'm in Israel. This is a tiring experience, to say the least.

What did I do?

I didn't pack last night. I packed this morning. Yes, I am that crazy. After dropping Tabitha (the cat) off with all of her stuff (bed, blankie, food, scratching post, toys, brushes—anyone notice what is missing?) and hanging out for a while, I was completely exhausted. I got home and I just could not pack. I knew I'd wake up around 6am (I always wake then, I just don't get out of bed) and I figured I'd have a few hours to pack in the morning.

And that is what I did. I even made it to the office before 10am. Extraordinary.

---

Amusing pre-trip exchange #1 with Spesh (my friend who lives in Israel):
Spesh: The night you arrive is the Purim party at the kibbutz. Sleep on the plane and wear a costume.

J: Is it ok if I come as a sleepy American?

Amusing pre-trip exchange #2:
J: I should probably bring you something—what do you want?

Spesh: I want you to bring me cash. I hate that I have to pay a fee to have it transferred. Can you bring a couple of thousand dollars?

J: Are you crazy? That's not a good idea. You want me to carry thousands of dollars of cash?

Spesh: You're right. I don't want you to do that. You'd probably spend it.

---

What did I pack?

In the small rolling bag:
Sleeveless black linen dress with white embroidery (for wedding)
White cotton light-weight cardigan sweater (to wear with dress to make it "decent")
Black skirt
Black pants

Three short sleeve shirts (1 white, 2 black)
Long sleeve black cotton cardigan
Two light weight long sleeve shirts for layering (pink and green)
Three-quarter length sleeve black & white stripped shirt (had to bring something with stripes!)

Short black silk scarf (to wear with dress)
Large black & beige patterned silk scarf (to dress things up)

Swim suit
Small ultra absorbant towel

Loads of socks
Loads of underwear
Three pairs of tights (2 black, 1 grey)
Three bras
Pajamas

One pair black shoes (mary janes with small heel, to wear with dress, skirt or pants)

Make-up (a tiny bit, just in case)

A virtual drug store: , Benedryl, Imodium, Tylenol, Aspirin, Ibuprofin, anti-biotic ointment, band-aids, hand sanitizer, elastic laundry line, gauze, ziplock bags, tissues

Computer
Variety of cords and chargers

In the backpack:
Toiletry kit (everything is travel-sized; I decant): shampoo, soap, lotions, potions, etc.
Waterproof anorak, stuffed into its own pouch
Black capri-length pants

Sunglasses
Eyeglass case
Camera
DVDs

One book
Four New Yorkers
Two notepads

The everyday kit: gum, tissues, folding brush, pen, lip balm, large hair clip, rubber band (no pull kind), lip gloss, toothpick, hand lotion, eyeglass cleaning cloth

In a small bag that fits into the backpack:
Ipod
Two sets of earphones
Wallet
Passport
Plane ticket (an actual paper ticket)
Itinerary

The airsickness kit: Dramamine, Valerian, Gum, Earplugs, Saltines

Wearing:
Black pants
Long sleeve cotton shirt (blue) over short sleeve cotton shirt (red)
Light fleece jacket
Ugly red shoes (so incredibly comfortable)