Showing posts with label bus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bus. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

A Peace Summit on the 480

       I just met Lenny, an American Jewish philosophy professor, on the bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. We chatted the entire ride. Lenny informed me that he was here in Israel as a member of the MERETZ delegation from the States, and essentially he was here to make peace between Israel and its neighbor.

        Now, normally, I don’t engage too deeply with people on the complete opposite side of the political spectrum. And before you yell at me, hear me out. I am right- wing. Quite. Duh. I’m not really that middle- of- the- road, nor are my opinions “developing” or “fluid.” I also like people and want them to like me. And one way to ensure someone won’t like me is to have a screaming match with them about politics. And therefore, I try not to engage to the point where this might occur.

        Back to Lenny. He said he was here with Meretz. I kept my eyes from rolling straight back into my skull, because I’m an adult. Then Lenny said, “well, we’re both Zionists, so we can build on that!” I paused. I asked him, “Does Meretz really consider itself Zionist?” He responded affirmatively and I realized that, like their religious observance, generally people think that their Zionism is the correct way to do Zionism. So that was a good starting point.

         Throughout the ride we found lots to agree on- the miracle of Israel, the fact that academia has become an impossible place to be a Zionist, the incredible people who live here, the shameful lack of assistance for some olim that causes them to leave.

          We disagreed on more. The African refugee/migrant problem (semantics play an issue). Changing demographics- he believes Jews will soon lose their demographic majority, I don’t. We were on the same page about BDS until he told me he won’t buy from “the Settlements.” I told him to please change “settlements” to “Jews” and be aware that he is boycotting Jews. Boycotting Jews like the Germans did in the ‘30s. Then he said his father was a survivor and we just agreed on a lot of Holocaust stuff for a bit and got back on track.

           He tried to make me believe that the conflict was about land, while I think it’s religious. I begged him to please not equate Bibi with Abbas (Meretz despises no one on earth more than Bibi, I learned. His name came up many times, as he is apparently the root of all evil in this country. Who knew?)

          At one point I tried to turn around and get back to my 12 waiting games of Words With Friends. Lenny kept the conversation going. And I realized this. Lenny is an idealist, I am a realist (although he’d say he’s a realist and I’m a pessimist.) He genuinely wants everyone to be happy and content here and I worry mostly about the Jews in Israel and our safety and well-being. He believes we have peace partners (it’s not his fault, I’m certain Palestinian reps are telling Meretz reps whatever they want to hear) and I think that’s just a fantasy.

          So much of what divides us is our vocabulary. Lenny always called them “settlers” and I call them “citizens.” Lenny only calls Judea and Samaria “the West Bank.” Lenny talked about the “hilltop youth”- a not large group of nationalists who have become a bogeyman and a convenient parallel for Muslim terrorists. Lenny called the Africans “refugees” while they have also been referred to as “migrants.” We come from such different places- he in secular American left- wing academia, me in Modern Orthodox right- wing Israel advocacy. 

But at the end of our trip, we talked about what we agreed upon- a strong, safe, Jewish Home for us all. We shook hands, wished each other well and I can only assume he’s writing a blog post about me as we speak!

           Good luck with everything, Lenny, and keep fighting the good fight!


Thursday, May 12, 2016

The 68 Reason I Miss Israel (Most)







Hello from NYC! I have been on my yearly pilgrimage to America since before Pesach, but honestly, it feel like forever! Not that I haven't been enjoying- it's been so lovely and full of incredible memories (more on that in a blog to come). But when I was planning my trip and people would ask when I was returning home to Israel, they would inevitably exclaim, "WHAT?! You're missing Yom Ha'atzmaut? How could YOU miss that here?" Emphasis on the "you", since I am a vocal and rabid Zionist who enjoys just a regular Tuesday in February in Israel. Imagine my sadness in realizing that my sister's sheva brachot wedding festivities would coincide with Israel's Independence Day! But, as one of my best friends put it, "Yom Ha'atzmaut comes every year, your sister only gets married once!" Good point, Donna. And so here I am, missing Israel terribly, feverishly checking Facebook to see how my Israeli contingent is enjoying, and counting the ways I miss my country- I chose 68 for Israel's birthday specifically, but I probably could have gone on a lot longer. Here they are, the 
At my sister's wedding, with my flag


68 Reasons I Miss Israel

1) I miss getting to Ben Gurion Airport, where customs will say "Welcome Home."
Welcome home from DBG
2) I miss getting onto the bus as it pulls away, the bus driver rushing me on with a smile, knowing he's made my day a little easier.
3) I miss searching for hidden lions all over Jerusalem, sometimes just chilling out on rooftops.
4) I miss all the kosher options. Sure, New York has lots of kosher- but is the entire food court on the mall kosher?! I didn't think so!
5) I miss going from the biggest city to the second biggest city (Jerusalem to Tel Aviv) in under an hour- can you imagine getting from NYC to LA in an hour bus ride?!
6) I miss the bus ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. It's long enough to snooze, browse Facebook and chat with a friend, but short enough that, before you know it, you're there!
7) I miss the weather. Today is beautiful in NYC, but I was in a coat for 2/3 of my visit- in MAY! Weather report in Israel? Sunny with a chance of gorgeous.
8) Speaking of weather change, I miss not having allergies. I forgot all about the intense suffering I had at the hands of New York pollen. Luckily, I haven't had one seasonal sniffle since my aliyah!
9) I miss my tiny studio apartment (which hasn't been robbed- I checked, thank G-d!) Just me and my 30
meters of personal space! And my shoes.
10) I miss being a round people who don't think making aliyah is insane. G-d bless my friends and their support for the Jewish state, but when I say I moved to Israel, half the time I get a look of utter shock. It's not that crazy, guys!
11) I miss Chabad and Breslov dance parties- in town, at the bus station, on top of their vans. I love seeing devotion to G-d set to an awesome techno beat, tzitzit flying everywhere!
12) I miss watching awesome street performers, like that Hasidic man who sings classic rock and the electric violinist lady who wails on some Josh Groban.
Street performers are the norm
13) I miss the street names, and the fact that I can live on a Sholom Aleichem instead of an Avenue U.
14) I miss how safe I feel in Israel. As I always tell people who worry, Israel is totally safe, with just a touch of terrorism! (Weirdly, this doesn't calm them...)
15) I miss using my Chofshi Chadshi (my monthly metro card.) Once I've paid it at the beginning of the month, I feel like I'm riding for free every time!
16) Speaking of the bus, and as much as I love driving, I miss the bus! I miss getting a ride back at the end of a long night, not having to worry about driving and ending up at my door- like magic!
Buses in Israel featuring the Shema prayer!
17) I miss the Mediterranean lifestyle! I miss seeing 5 Israeli men at a cafe at 2 PM on a Wednesday, not a care in the world! Do they work? Probably! But for now- Turkish coffee!
18) I miss hummus at every meal. You don't realize you are missing this Israeli staple until it's gone---and even worse, when it's there but it tastes bad!
19) I miss the little jingle that precedes the Israeli news on the radio.
20) I miss listening to the news, trying to understand the gist, and getting excited that half the words are names ("blah blah Barack Obama blah blah Benjamin Netanyahu blah blah California")
21) Speaking of politics- I miss our government! Dysfunctional as it may be, I can't wait to escape the Donald Trump/Hillary Clinton juggernaut that dominates the news here.
22) I miss hearing little kids speak Hebrew. In general, I love the sound of the language, but tiny people speaking it more fluently than I will ever in my life? Adorable!
23) I miss the artists' markets on Fridays. Even when you don't buy anything, it's beautiful to see such talent coming from me fellow Israelis.
24) I miss the Tel Aviv bus station- just kidding it's gross. But where else can you buy a coffee, get a tattoo, send money Western Union, pick up an outfit to go clubbing and catch a bus to Eilat- all in the same place?
25) I miss Goldstar. I'm so happy I love our national beer (sorry, I've never tried Maccabi) and I love that it's a delicious and economical choice!
26) I miss continuing my quest for best Israeli breakfast (pssst- it's Cafe Greg or Caffit so far)
(Israeli) breakfast is served!
27) I miss the desert. I don't spend that much time there, but every time I go there is such a peace in the silence. And G-d knows, I need to be silent sometimes.
28) I miss the North (of Israel). Like the desert, I don't spend enough time there, but every time I go- I'm dazzled by the green and the air and the natural beauty- I just love it.
29) I miss being a tour guide for visitors. Nothing better than a friend from NYC coming to visit and asking me what to do, where to go or what to eat. In my past life, I was a tour guide for sure. Now I'm just a frustrated tour guide. Who has eaten at every kosher restaurant in town.
30) I miss the indescribable feeling you get when beating the bureaucracy. Like when I figured out a bank issue or got my Israeli driver's license with only minimal agita. Priceless.
31) I miss Mizrachi music, my non-secret, non-guilty, guilty pleasure. Yalla Habibi!!
32) I miss having my Hebrew corrected (constantly and without remorse) every time I speak (or text.) In America, everyone thinks I'm fluent and back home, Israelis think I speak like a 3rd grader with a concussion.
33) I miss watching awkward dates of Hareidim in lobbies. I don't feel bad saying this, because for a long while, I had those dates myself. Hello from the other side!
34) I miss the arsim who always make me feel hot, even when I am looking definitely not.
35) I miss the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv rivalry and how I started off firmly Team Jerusalem and now I'm a bit less sure.
36) I miss Sarona Market in Tel Aviv. I went to Chelsea market here in NYC, which is almost exactly the same, but it's indoors! Total win for Sarona!
Sarona is a paradise
37)  I miss not having to hear about how expensive yeshiva tuition is. We get it, America, you pay a lot for your kids to not learn Hebrew very well. Move to Israel already!
38) I miss Israeli slang, now that I'm starting to understand it. Yes, I do "chaya b'seret/live in a movie" thanks for noticing!
39) I miss seeing tourists do double takes at the guy on the beach with the swim trunks and the rifle.
40) I miss rooting for my new favorite basketball team- Yalla Hapoel!
Love my team!
41) I miss discussing with tourists (especially non-Jewish European ones!) how different Israel is from how it's portrayed in the media.
42) I miss people being happy on rainy days. They know that the rain is a blessing, so they enjoy it. I still don't, but maybe one day!
43) I miss being wished a "Shabbat Shalom" or "Chag Sameach" by everyone- not just the religiously observant. And I miss saying it right back!
44) I miss the shuk on Fridays- I won't actually go there to shop, just to soak up the energy once in a while, when I become jaded about living in Jerusalem.
45) I miss watching the kids on Birthright fall in love with Israel. I often miss being the one who gets to show them Israel, but I miss seeing their faces as they come home for the first time.
46) I miss the shuk at night! Who would have ever thought Jerusalem would become a hub of nightlife? Certainy no one in Tel Aviv did! And yet here we are, with this awesome market that turns into the greatest place to spend a chill Tuesday (ar any) night, listening to music and gettinga drink with friends.
My man, Menachem Begin, spray painted at the shuk
47) I miss the quiet in the streets of Jerusalem on Shabbat. Though we're not all observant in the city, most people observe shabbat in some way, and the streets become very still and traffic is super slow, You don't get that in many places on a Saturday!
48) And I miss how the city comes alive on a Thursday night. As a country where the day off is Friday, not Sunday, Thursday night is our Saturday night (you follow?) Thursday night is the night to party, and I rarely stay in- although

I used to love to stay in Saturday nights in NYC. There's just too much going on in Israel on a Thursday night!
49) I miss roof parties! With awesome weather for over half the year and limited indoor space, roof parties are probably my favorite kind. Other than wine parties, Those are really my favorite.
50) I miss wine parties. Particularly on Wednesdays.
51) I miss the views from the bus heading into or out of Jerusalem. There is usually a noticeable quieting as everyone on the bus gazes out onto a truly breathtaking view out our windows
This view!
52) I miss starting renditions of Israel's national anthem, Hatikva, everywhere I go and having my friends roll their eyes before they join in too for the big finish.
53) I miss starting singalongs on public buses during festivals like Purim and Yom Ha'atzmaut, where the whole bus joins in a sings "David Melech Yisrael" at the top of their lungs.
54) I miss Cofix! I miss being able to get a beer, a sandwich, a soup or an iced coffee for just 5 shekel! In a country where we try to be frugal- it's the best!
55) I miss staring at the boys in Tel Aviv- some of the handsomest in the world. I actually think that's a fact I read in an article somewhere, but even if it's not, it's true. 
56) I miss "Chag Sameach" for whichever holiday it happens to be flashing on buses and in all store windows. I'm still new enough here that seeing "Chanuka Sameach" on the bus makes my whole day.
Happy Purim! Love, Jerusalem
57) I miss the festivals! I can't wait for the summer and my favorite, the Summer Wine Festival and the Arts Festival-Chutzot Hayotzer. But really, there's always some festival happening in Jerusalem at any time- anyone remember Japanese Culture Week?
Summer Wine Festival- best night of the year!
58) I miss seeing a mezuza on every door. It's still weird to head into a room here in the States and automatically kiss every doorway, and not have a little mezuza there to greet me.
59) I miss the attitude. I know that seems crazy, but being in NYC, where politeness is certainly not a virtue, I miss the kind of well-meaning aggressiveness Israelis have. Maybe it's because I'm from NYC, and not short on chutzpah, but I don't mind the rough Israeli style, I can handle it just fine.
60) I miss the diversity of Jews. I never realized it, but in my New York bubble, my Jewish friends are a bit...homogeneous. They are wonderful, beautiful and amazing- but we are all pretty much the same. Israel boasts Jews from every country, speaking every language, with every culture, living in one tiny space. It's pretty awesome.
61) I miss the bubble. I miss not knowing what movies are out, what songs are popular, and what are the must-see shows. There are probably Israelis who know all these things, but I don't! Don't get me wrong, I'm still pretty up on pop-culture, but I do like the extra degree of separation that comes from living 6,000 miles away from the US.
62) I know this will sound a little crazy coming from me, but I miss the coexistnce. sometimes there are times of fear or mistrust, but generally, the different cultures of Israel get along just fine. In the malls, the supermarkets, on the light rail or at the bank- citizens of Israel generally get along just fine with one another, and it's a good thing.
63) I miss our soldiers. Some of my favorite people in Israel have served or currently serve in the IDF, so our army is made up of people I truly love-whether I know them personally or not. May G-d bless them and keep them safe.
64) I miss my friends who have become my family, especially my fellow olim. There is a bond that comes with moving to Israel alone. I may not celebrate the holidays with my mom and dad and sisters, but I have some incredible new friends in my life who help me miss them a little less around the holidays.
65) I miss how everyone here feels like your family, and how they may yell at you one miniute, but they will kiss and hug you and invite you for shabbat the next minute- just like your real family.
66) I miss wishing someone who has just made aliyah a "Mazal tov!" Who says that when someone moves to Canada or England? I also miss making people "Mazel tov on your Aliyah!" posters!
My family hasn't made aliyah (yet!) but I can dream, right?
67) I miss learning new things about Israel every day. Whether it's a new Hebrew expression, a new historical fact or a new place to get the best cafe hafuch, I can't wait to learn more!
68) I miss feeling like I'm home. I will always love America deeply, for it's freedom and because the people I love most live here. But I live in the homeland of the Jews, and that is the great gift.

   So HAPPY 68th BIRTHDAY, Israel! You are beautiful and you are brave, you are ancient and you are young, you are traditional and you are innovative. You are a home to us all- and we love you!



Sunday, December 27, 2015

Fear and Loathing in Jerusalem

        "Jordana, I really want to come to visit Jerusalem tomorrow, but is it safe?" If I had a dollar for every time I've been asked some variation of that question in the past four months or so, I'd be a millionaire! Well, not exactly- but I could afford a really nice meal. It is a bizarre question for me at first, because they are essentially asking if the place I live- where I work, shop, socialize and walk around- is dangerous for them to visit. You know, because of the terrorist stabbings that have been happening with nauseating regularity in our holy city. 
         But I get it. If all I kept hearing was "stabbing in central Jerusalem...car ramming in Jerusalem.... thwarted stabbing attempt in Jerusalem..."on the news all day, I'd probably be a bit freaked out too. I mean, how do we even live? The answer is the same well-trod answer Jerusalemites have been giving for the past who-knows-how-many years, "Life goes on." Sure, you pause every time you hear about some new attack, you frantically search the internet for information, you discuss it with your friends and co-workers. But inevitably, you will realize that you're out of milk, that the bank is closing soon or that the light rail train in 3 minutes away, and you will return to your regularly scheduled life, a bit tenser, but in astonishingly short turnaround time.
It does get a little sticky when there is nowhere in your daily routine that hasn't been targeted. The shuk, where I have spent countless daytime hours picking out fruits and vegetables and evening hours having drinks with friends? Yep, two women with scissors started stabbing people there. The Central bus station, my main hub for getting out of or back into the city, several times weekly? It's been targeted a number of times. Countless bus stops, bustling city corners and road junctions that I would recognize anywhere- suddenly flashed across TV screens as the site of the most recent attack against my Jewish brothers and sisters, my brave and beloved policemen and soldiers. And while the armed populace has become more vigilant, more adept at neutralizing and killing the terrorists quicker, it bizarrely hasn't stopped the attacks from occurring.
         People are most scared of the Old City, and that breaks my heart. The area of Jerusalem where all visitors yearn to come and spend time and pray is now one of the areas they are most scared to visit. For months I would calm friends and say "Take Shaar Yafo/Jaffa Gate.It's all tourists and nothing has happened there." And then something happened there. And now I don't know what to say to friends. Because I am not in their shoes, looking in from the outside. Would I still go to the Old City through Jaffa Gate? Yes, and it's definitely not because I'm so brave. It is because of this.
         As hard as it is, I can not be scared of my city. I can keep my hands on my pepper spray, I can avoid suspicious-looking passersby (yes, through profiling- not sorry!) and I can be aware of my surroundings. But I can not be scared of my city. I can warn others of where to go and where not to go, I can give suggestions of routes or streets to take or avoid. But I can not be scared of my city. I can follow the news one day and shut it all out the next, to stay sane. But I can not be scared of my city.
        My city isn't like Tel Aviv or Haifa, or Beit Shemesh or even Tzfat. My city is the capital of Israel and the eternal capital of the Jewish homeland. It represents so much more to me and the Jewish people than anywhere else. We have cried, prayed for and bled for Jerusalem. I personally moved across the world, all alone, in order to live in Jerusalem. So I can not be scared of my city. And I hope you will come here and join me in my city- in our city- and we will not be afraid.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

I have started and re-started writing this blog post every day since the current wave of terror started about 2 weeks ago. And, sadly, each post would have been incomplete without including the latest news, the newest angle or the most recent heroic story. I gave an hour-long tour at my job yesterday, only to come back and find that I missed two attacks in different areas of Israel. In one hour. So I will do my best to organize my frenzied, terrified and confusing thoughts into one (hopefully) readable post.

Wouldn't it be nice?


Wouldn't it be nice if I could board a bus, shop in a supermarket or walk to my friend's house without my heart beating out of my chest? Without my eyes darting, my neck craning, constantly trying to turn myself into a moving target instead of a stationary one? I try to be vigilant, to profile (luckily, I'm not a liberal, so I don't even feel bad) but the terrorists are as young as 13 and women have gotten in on the action, so it gets tougher. I clutch my pepper spray and turn off my headphones as I watch the list of terrorized areas grow- Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Petach Tikva, Maaleh Adumim. The Old City and the light rail stations, the main streets and the side streets. And now the buses. The buses, which for years I avoided because of their prominence for terror during the Second Intifada, suddenly again a target, a nightmare realized. X-Ray- vision would be nice.
Meet my new constant companion- pepper spray.

Wouldn't it be nice if a mainstream media outlet reported truthfully, without anti-Israel bias? If the headlines read "Palestinians terrorist stabs Jew" instead of "Israel shoots Palestinian"? Sure, the Palestinian was shot- that's pretty much the only way to win a knife fight! If you find another way, please tell me! I'm pretty defenseless over here with my little pepper spray. And the media volume is too much to bear, the rhetoric too high. I vacillate between wanting Israeli news reported worldwide and knowing that once it is, Israel will look like the aggressor and instead of the world ignoring us, they will demonize us. I wish I could find an article to share with my friends on Facebook that tells the truth and also isn't from an Israeli/Jewish publication. An unbiased Washington Post piece would be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if rational people in the world rallied around us, vocally and unequivocally? Didn't refer to this as a "cycle of violence," as if shooting terrorists isn't warranted? Can't they just refrain from telling "both sides to settle down" as if we're two equally impertinent seven year olds in a fight? There is a Left-wing writer who, instead of using this time to advocate for Israelis and our unquestioned safety, is shaming Jews into placating Arabs. Her microphone is huge, mine is tiny. So any American Jews reading her words are going to be misled into thinking this conflict is about anything but what it is. It's not about bubbling frustration over the Temple Mount, or the "occupation." It's not about Duma or Gaza or the checkpoints or the security wall or the blockade. It is about murdering Jews; frequently, randomly and brutally. Not "settlers," policemen or soldiers. Sure, them too, But in reality, according to a large majority of Palestinian and Israeli Arabs, all Jews in Israel are guilty and all worthy of the same fate. A little more moral clarity would be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if someone had a solution? Because as "radical" as my ideas might be, I can't think of that many that would work right now. If I thought house demolitions, kill- shots to terrorists and curfews would stop this, I'd be the biggest cheerleader. But our largest obstacle right now is incitement and indoctrination- and no checkpoints or metal detectors can stop that. And so we choose to blame the government for not doing more- and even I vent my frustration- but what is it they should be doing? What's the answer? It would be nice if someone came up with something good and soon.

And wouldn't it be so nice if Israel could just live in peace? Not the peace that comes from capitulating, or cutting off one arm to keep the other- but real peace? Who honestly believes that any right-winger wants war, wants this? Who doesn't realize that we all just want the right to live as Jews in the Jewish homeland, without apologizing? We all want a safe place to live, for our kids to grow up. We all want our biggest gripe to be the rising price of hummus or the spottiness of Egged buses. No one wants to live in constant fear, constant anger and constant dread. No one wants to choose between pepper spray and a taser, or sign up for a "stabbing self-defense class." No one wants to feel petrified to leave the house, to attend a wedding, to lay on the beach. No one, not the Left and not the Right wants war. It would be nice to live in safety.

It would be nice to live in peace.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Get On The Bus, Gus



As an underqualified but highly motivated Aliyah tour guide, I thought I’d give my perspective on the transportation system here in Israel. Please read on for the good, the bad, the ridiculous and the insane of Egged, Dan, Kavim and more- AKA- The Israeli Bus System.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that I am something of a bus novice here in Israel. In my early days of visiting Israel, buses did not have a good reputation. And by that I mean that they were terrorist targets and gave me and my mother feelings of panic just walking near one. Was this a fair assessment? Kind of. There were definitely attacks during those years of the Second Intifada where just the sight of a bus would have me crossing the street, but the vast majority of buses rolled on, safely and soundly. This fear, however, led to strict instructions by my mother to never, under any circumstances, take a bus. It also compelled her to pay for the taxis that would inevitably become my preferred mode of transportation. As the years passed and my trips to Israel became more frequent and longer, my mom was kinda like “This is getting expensive.” And once the money train stopped, wouldn’t ya know it? I started taking the bus again! I remember my triumphant return to a public Jerusalem bus, marked with only two short prayers to G-d for my safety and 10 friends taking photos of the auspicious occasion. From then on, it just wasn’t that bad.

In New York, I had a car. I wasn’t one of those cool New Yorkers who lived on the subway, or the less- cool ones who rode the LIRR (kidding!) I lived in the outer boroughs and worked in several different schools as a speech pathologist, so as the saying goes “I lived in my car.” I remember when I told my mother I wanted to make Aliyah, she said “How could you leave your niece and nephews? Daddy? Your car?!” She, and I, if I’m honest, knew how attached I was to having my own vehicle. I’m a goer and a doer and being on someone else’s schedule, in this case, the Egged Bus Company, was going to be a challenge.

And a challenge it has been! I would like to take you on a sample bus ride to work so you can understand the little difficulties that add up to a total bus headache. What you want to do first is download the Moovit app for your phone. Created by Israelis (of course) this app uses GPS to create a bus/train/walking route for you, tell you how long the trip should take and estimate how soon your bus will arrive. I would like to emphasize should because being wrong is not unheard of. So you choose the route that looks easiest. Sometimes that route will take 2 buses- don’t do it. Do the “more walking” option because honestly, the only thing worse than waiting for one bus is waiting for back to back buses. So you get your bus and you’re the third person to board. Except because it’s Israel, people cut in line and you become the 6th person to board. Except because I’m from NYC, I get back to being 4th. Okay. Unfortunately, the first person is paying with cash (a 100 shekel bill on a fare of 6.90) and the third person’s bus card is malfunctioning but feels that a 5 minute argument with the bus driver would be the best course of action (pro tip- you will never win with the bus driver- the house always wins.) Finally, you swipe your card. When I first moved here, I would buy rides in increments of 20 until I discovered the “monthly unlimited” option (cue the angels and harps.) I have to tell you, as a former shopaholic- this card is my one monthly splurge. For about 65 dollars, I can ride as many buses and light rails as I want for the entire month! It’s amazing! And I know you’re thinking- okay, Jords, relax- but it is basically the biggest purchase of my month nowadays, and I look forward to the 1st of every month now for just that reason. A whole month of unlimited bus rides, far as the eye can see!

Did I actually take a selfie with my Rav Kav? Yes. Because it's love.
So I’m on the bus, right? Great. There are only 2 types of buses generally. Completely empty and bursting at the seams full. So your ride will go one of 2 ways- seated or smushed up against the handrail, praying for the next stop to be the one the entire bus is waiting for. Let’s say it’s empty, as most of my morning ones are. I get my seat and it is glorious. I put on my headphones and start reading one of the 50 articles I have “saved for later” on my phone. Inevitably, the bus will stop and more people will get on. And inevitably, regardless of how many empty seats are around me, their seat of choice will be next to me. Often I have wondered “why?” Why sit next to me and invade my space when there are so many other’s spaces that can be equally invaded? I believe it comes down to these elements: 1) I am clean/smell good (cannot be overstated on a Jerusalem bus) 2) I look safe- say what you want about political correctness, but the young American (because apparently it’s obvious) woman of ambiguous religious level is always a safe bet. I won’t be fervently praying next to you, reeking of smoke next to you or loudly gabbing on the phone next to you and 3) I look like I want nothing to do with you. Why is this a plus, you may wonder? Because I will not speak to you, not breathe on you and not cough on you unless my life depends on it. And when you are on your way from or to work, that’s a real blessing. This is all well and good, unless you’re me and you would kill for an empty seat next to you once in a while. Or would it be possible that the person next to me is a cute, religious young man once in a while? Nope. I attract every other type of person though- men and women, children and the elderly, Hasidic and Arab, French and Israeli- I am an equal opportunity seatmate.

Once on the bus, the driving style of the bus driver is really anyone’s guess. The majority of my rides are smooth and easy, but I have definitely had more than my share of rides that ended with my kissing the sweet, sweet pavement upon reaching my destination.

You have buses that come super late and buses that show up early, so you can wave goodbye to them with tears in your eyes as you hunker down to wait for the next. You have buses with open windows in the rain and no A/C in the summer. Some of the hottest days of August are not complete without a sweltering standing-room-only ride chugging up the hill from the Old City, smelling the smells and feeling the feels of your fellow man as you blast your music, think of puppies and pray that the lights all turn green. You have the people who will talk on the phone as if they are on their own patios, sharing all their private information with everyone around them, and the old ladies who will shush you when you quietly chat with your friend. You will have the tourists who will inevitably miss their stop and then get detailed directions to get back on track and the old timers with their carts full of produce, who have been taking that bus and that route since its inception.

You will see the hills of Jerusalem and the Judean desert and the highrises of Tel Aviv, and the passing trains, the fallow fields and a herd of cows and then an hour later, a line of camels. You will see heart-stopping drops and your ears will pop as altitudes change. You will traverse the entire country in less than a day and experience the wonder and the miracle of this land on every trip. And you will miss your car, and pray that one day you will be able to afford one here. But in the meantime, you will make the best of this time on the bus, when you can turn on your headphones, stare out the window and enjoy the beauty of your new home.
All day. Every day. Hi Israel.


Monday, August 24, 2015

My Declaration of Independence

         One of the most obvious drawbacks of making aliyah is that you will leave your family and friends, many of the people you love most in this world. But not only do these people give you the most emotional support in your life, they often provide the physical support you don't even realize you need. This post is dedicated to the most independent person I have come to know these past thirteen months- myself. Now before you go thinking, "This narcissistic brat. Who does she think she is, calling herself the most independent?" I implore you to read on and let me explain.
        I did not move to Israel after high school. I did not move after college, nor even after grad school. I did not move after my first time leaving home. I left as a full-fledged adulting adult. So when I moved, I never thought of myself as anything other than a mature, together, self-sufficient woman. Boy, was I wrong. My first few months here I couldn't have really even known. I was living in ulpan, with all my basic needs and schedule taken care of, going about my business with my errands and tasks keeping me busy. It wasn't until I moved out and on my own that I realized how essentially alone I was out here. I never realized how much I actually depended on people back in NYC to help me in tiny little ways.
      If I needed furniture moved or fixed, my dad was always right there. If I needed to pick up a notebook or cardigan, my mom would gladly get it for me on her next Target run. If I needed a ride to the airport at 3AM, my little sister would do it with a yawn and a smile. And if I needed anything else, I knew there was an assortment of lifelong friends, willing and able to help out. This is not the case here in Israel. When I needed my disaster of a couch fixed for the umpteenth time, and the guy who said he'd help me stopped answering my texts, I starting eating cereal on a folding chair. When I need a notebook or cardigan, I schlep my weary body to Max Stock or Castro after work and I get it myself. When I need a ride to the airport, I undergo the brutal abuse that is calling Nesher (cab-share service) and allow them to berate me in aggressive Hebrew and then drop me off 4 hours before my flight. And for anything else, I weigh how much I really need it versus the discomfort of asking a new friend for help if I don't really, truly need it.
          Let me give you an example of my new- found independence that just occurred this week. I have been in the market for a small cabinet for months. I have been following all the buying, swapping and selling in various Facebook groups to find the right size at the right price. Finally, a friend was giving one away! But how to transport it? I called a few friends who reminded me "hi, we don't have cars either!" Then I called someone I'm quite close with who didn't have the time/didn't want to (we're still close, but it was touch and go) I called and called various friends until I had to let her give the cabinet to someone else. I realized in that moment that in America: my dad could have helped me move it, my mom could have bought me one from IKEA, and I myself could have heaved it into my own car. Here in Israel- nothing. You may ask- why didn't you take a cab? Excellent question! Fact is, I couldn't stomach getting ripped off and paying more for the 3 minute ride than the cabinet was worth. So sue me. Finally, yesterday, I found a cabinet! It's made of plastic (meh) and the size and price were right. I decided to do this alone.
          Do you know what a Bubby Cart is? Maybe you know it as a "grocery cart" but I call it a Bubby Cart because it's what all the little Jerusalem Bubbies (grandmas) use to schlep their groceries around the shuk/market. So I recently bought a rather fancy one (thanks, mom!) and I took off the bag to fashion myself a bit of a dolly. I took the bus to the seller's apartment and boom- first hurdle- no elevator. It's cool, she helps me bring it down the 3 flights and I put it on the "dolly." No ropes? No problem- I'll just hold on to it for dear life. Made it to the bus stop with little trouble and only mildly horrified stares greet me. What- haven't you ever seen people move medium/large furniture on a public bus? I get on the bus and I am chilling. I mean, I'm winning at life! Spoke too soon. See, school hasn't started yet for the children of Israel, so at a stop between there and home, not one, not two, but three moms with carriages and 2 spare kids each load the bus. And not just the bus. The exact area where me and cabinet are. How big is this bus, you wonder? It's a double bus with nothing but empty space for the kids to frolic if they so chose. Which they did not. They chose to stand directly on my toes. Live, love Israel, amiright? So one mom gets off, then the next and finally I'm thinking I hit the trifecta, but no, Mom #3 decides to try and let me out. But in the process, she blocks the door and knocks off 2 of my cabinet's plastic feet. Whoops. Finally I get out of the bus and decide to take the light rail down the home stretch. And good news! It's only 3 minutes away! And it stays 3 minutes away for the next 10 minutes. Ultimately, the sign switched to "train stopped" and I realize it's me and my cabinet, bumping down Jaffa Street at rush hour, with the judging eyes of all Jerusalem upon me.
Me, my cabinet, and the #74 Bus


          One things that's really fun (read: infuriating) about people in Jerusalem is that they stop for no reason, for any length of time, in the middle of the street, whenever. It is the most bizarre phenomenon. So there I go, bobbing and weaving around the human statues, trying to will the street shorter or the cabinet lighter or the weather cooler (it goes without saying that I was not enjoying the August Jerusalem heat at the moment.) I'm almost there, I can see my block, and the cabinet slips off the dolly with a thud. After some colorful language and a quick "why me?" a sweet girl offers to help me. I first say no, my independence speaking for me, but then allow her to help me so I can make the last few feet on my own. I schlep the cabinet up my stairs, alone, clean and stock the shelves and drink about 2 liters of water, unbelievably (maybe too?) proud of my accomplishment.
         Are all my tasks this huge and difficult? No way. Doesn't anyone ever help me? I would be remiss to not mention the amazing people in this country who help me in countless ways every day- the people who let me use their laundry machines and the kind souls who have me for meals. The generous people who give me rides when they can and the incredible friends who offer me support when I'm sick or sad. Israel is full of beautiful, kind-hearted people who I know I will grow to need and count on just as much as they people I left.
    But for right now, I am still new here. I haven't yet built my family and my friendships are still young. You can't make an old friend in less than a year. So I will continue to fix my own appliances and move my own furniture. I will pick up my own necessities and find my own way to the party. I will even figure out a way to fix my good-for-nothing couch somehow. Because I have decided to move away from my safety net and totally on my own- and I wouldn't change that decision for anything. And if you need me, I'll be eating cereal on my folding chair.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

To Fear or Not To Fear

             The statistics are clear. It is much more dangerous to live in New York City, my previous home, than Jerusalem, my current (and hopefully forever) home. And yet, I never woke up to news of a massacre in my synagogue, thank G-d, and I never feared standing at a bus stop, and I never gave passersby the side-eye as I walked the streets of Queens. This is my new reality here in Jerusalem. The macro fears of this past summer, the rockets and the sirens, have been replaced by something far more insidious. The mood that surrounds me is much more reminiscent (and I have been loathe to even think it) of Jerusalem in 2001. In those days, I didn't take buses and I didn't shop at the shuk. I didn't visit the mall and I didn't go out in town. And I gave the side-eye to passersby, because you didn't know where, when or what might happen in the Holy City. 

Painted concrete barrier at Jerusalem light rail station

             And I am afraid. My family is calling me, panic in their voices, because the news is biased and the news is scary and the news is sparse and it doesn't come fast enough. And we want to see the pictures but the pictures are terrifying so we don't want to see them. And our friends are worried- our friends in Los Angeles and Detroit, Chicago and New York. Friends from cities with crazy crime rates are asking us to stay safe and be alert. People are questioning if I regret my move here, wondering whether I'll "come back home" to the US where it's safe and warm.
              But I am not afraid. I live in a country with a strong army, willing to lay down their lives for me, sacrificing their own lives for my safety. And even though the situation keeps getting worse I know  that most of the government is tearing out their collective hair, trying to protect us. And it cannot be easy. There are lefties who want to appease our enemies and those on the other side who want it ended by any means necessary, and those from every side who just want it to stop. There is no easy solution, and I do not envy those decision- makers for whom there is no right answer.
             And yet I am afraid. The news doesn't stop. There is always a new terrorist, a new murderer and more information about those who don't deserve our time or our ink. But we are voracious in our desire for news; we have to know where they came from (Israelis, with ID cards and the right to vote and working in our businesses) and what is being done (Heaven forbid they weren't killed on sight and we have to treat them in our hospitals). The only thing we don't have to wonder about is why. It is because we are Jews. It is not because we are Zionists or settlers. It is not because we are policemen or soldiers. It is only because we are Jews and that is enough for them.
             But I am not afraid. I know that this land is the Jewish land, not because the UN recognized us or because we have foreign governments who tell us we can exist. It is not our land as an apology for the Holocaust or because we had nowhere else to go. This land is not Uganda, just a place for Jews to gather in safety. It is our home because it has always been our home. I'm not being hokey when I say that Israel has been home to Jews for thousands of years; I'm speaking about reality. You know what is not our home? Syria is not our home, nor is Libya, Iraq, Iran or Saudi Arabia. Lebanon is not our home, nor is Oman, Liberia, Morocco or Egypt. Afghanistan is not our home, nor is Jordan, Tunisia or Algeria. These are legitimate homes for the world's billion Muslims, but Heaven forbid we Jews be honest about the fact that Israel is our ancestral Homeland and will forever be.
           And still I am afraid. I lived through the second intifada and this summer's war. Moving to Israel is a risk. You risk being away from your loved ones and missing out. You risk not finding a job as good as the one you left. And you also risk being here when our "neighbors" get angry, when our neighbors are incited to kill without pattern or warning. You risk the land you live in being derided in the media, and the brave members of the IDF being demonized. You wonder what risks you should take. Do I really need to go in to town today? Do I really need to visit that friend in that area tomorrow? And even though we are a resilient country, you wonder "Is this all worth the risk?"
          But I am not afraid. I am not afraid because my faith in G-d is strong. And I know that this is not the case for everyone. There are plenty of Israelis who feel differently, who draw strength from other places. But for me, there is a large sense of calm and peace that comes with the belief in a Divine Plan. And does this mean that nothing could ever happen to or around me (G-d forbid)? No, not at all. But there is a strength in knowing that we are not all-knowing and that we are part of a larger reality. This doesn't make the pain hurt any less and it doesn't make the fear disappear, but it does infuse it all with a sense of purpose. And that honestly helps.
          And even so, I am afraid. I want this to end. I want to go back to worrying about finding an apartment and a job. I want to start my search for the perfect sufganiya (donut) and to celebrate Hanukkah as an Israeli for the first time. I want to welcome my family here on their visit and show them all the amazing things I get to experience by living here. I want life, as they say, to go on. And I know it will. This, too, shall pass and all that good stuff, because the Nation of Israel will live on. It's not just a catchy saying, "Am Yisrael Chai." We will survive, we will thrive and we will live here in Israel, because it is our one true home, because it is ours.
           So I am not afraid.
         

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Just Right of Center

                I thought this blog post would be about looking for an apartment. I had planned to write this whole post about my madcap search for the perfect home with roughly ten dollars to my name. But at this point, what is going on in my city is so much bigger than what is going on in my life and I am compelled to write about it. Here is the usual preamble: these thoughts are my own, you may not agree with them but they are based on my upbringing and my experiences, yadda yadda. Truth is, notwithstanding a blurb about supporting Jews living in "the Settlements" and attending a pro-police rally last week, I keep this blog pretty "Center- Right." If you actually know me, though, you will note that I am actually much more "Right-Right" and that will be reflected in what I am about to say.
             I experienced the "Second Intifada." I was a naive 17-year old, spending my seminary year in Jerusalem when bombs started exploding in crowded areas and buses were being blown up. I remember the mood of that year with perfect clarity. I remember not taking one bus from October on. I remember being forbidden to enter the mall, the Machane Yehuda market, and most especially the center of town. I remember the group text messages from my school inquiring about where we were during attacks, I remember calling any and all friends to make sure we were all safe. I remember spending exorbitant amounts of time just roaming my own tiny neighborhood, because most other places became out of bounds. And mostly, I remember the fear that lived inside me imperceptibly, always just a tiny bit anxious and unsure. See, that is the whole point of an Intifada. It is meant to disrupt your life, to keep you indoors, to make you suspicious of everyone, all the time. Now I'm not saying that is the current mood here in Jerusalem, thank G-d. But I am saying there are rumblings. There are conversations in Whatsapp groups that look like this:

X: Guys, we were just in town and heard a boom. Don't come in to town if you can help it.
Y: Oh my gosh! Are you okay?
X: Yeah, I just ran away and I'm heading back now.
Z: Shoot, I needed to go into town to pick something up! Should I not go?

       Obviously, there is nothing intrinsically terrifying about going into town or taking a bus right now. But over the past few weeks, Israel has seen a considerable amount of terror by so- called "lone wolf terrorists" which is most certainly taking it's toll on the Jewish population here. There have been several terror attacks committed by Israeli Arabs and Palestinians who have rammed their cars into innocent civilians getting off the train near Arab neighborhoods in Jerusalem. One of those murdered was a precious 3 month old baby, on her way back from her first visit to the Western Wall. Other attacks more recently have included stabbings and shootings, and the targets have no discerning connections. Border police have been targeted and yeshiva students. Babies and the elderly. Residents of "the Settlements" and denizens of Tel Aviv. The only responsibility target is "Jew", even if the victim eventually turns out to be Druze. And it is no longer "the Palestinians" who are claiming responsibility for the terror. It is more often than not Israeli Arabs, who live in Arab towns alongside Jewish ones, with the full rights of Israeli citizens. They are being inundated with the directives to "rise up" and "kill the Occupiers" with billboards and television commercials, radio addresses and Mosque sermons. They are being encouraged to stoke the flames that the Israeli government (in my view) seems unwilling to properly subdue.
         Ahhh the government. For the most part, I support what the government has to say. The rhetoric matches mine to the letter: "We will not tolerate this terror. We will catch and prosecute the terrorists. We should take stronger steps to punish those responsible. We will not allow this to continue." And yet, continue it does. We build concrete blocks at train stations, we chase stone throwers, we apprehend the terrorist. But we also treat said apprehended terrorist at our incredible hospitals. I know what you may be thinking "What kind of monster won't treat someone who is injured?" Well, I guess I am the kind of monster who is picturing my family member who was just hurt or murdered by that terrorists, not really concerned with  his physical well-being. But that's me. I guess I'm the kind of person who is more concerned about the safety of myself and my friends and family than the rights and feelings of the community stoking the flames of aggression and terror against the Jewish people. 
Cracked window on Jerusalem Lightrail

        It is hard for me to remain neutral in this situation, it brings out the radical in me, the Kahane-loving, orange bracelet- wearing, Temple Mount- reclaiming, Blue and White- bleeding, crazy Right Wing-er in me. Does this mean that I would, G-d forbid, be involved in some counter- extremist measures? Never. Does this mean I will start throwing rocks, or yelling at random Muslim passersby, or comporting myself as anything other than the model Jewish Israeli? Absolutely not. But it has most certainly shown me that the government needs to take stronger and more forceful steps to avoid further aggression. We can't keep putting Band-Aids on bullet wounds and we can't keep putting up barriers to protect ourselves after we've already been attacked. We can't blame this on "the Settlements" because the attacks are in Tel Aviv too, and we can't blame this on the IDF, because they are attacking babies and the elderly. We have to be honest with what we are facing, as uncomfortable as it makes those liberals among us and realize that as much as we want this not to be happening, it is happening, and we need to remain unified if we want to stop the terror now.
           You know I can't leave a blog post without optimism so allow me to tell you a little story. I was having a talk with a fellow recent new immigrant to Israel. Like me, her birth country is friendly to Jews and relatively safe (ie- not France). She said to me "Jords, I'm scared and sometimes I feel like I wanna go home. Do you ever feel that way?" Mind you, this girl is a real- deal Zionist and left a super- easy life to come to Israel and start her family here. And I looked at her and said, "Sometimes I do feel like I want to go back to America, but only really to see family and friends. And go to Target. Because America really isn't my home anymore. This is my home." Am I the best Zionist in the world? (yes) No. I am just someone who moved here, knowing that life would get rough and that we had some very angry neighbors and that life might get kinda scary sometimes. But I also know that this is where I'm meant to be, that the struggles in Israel are my struggles too and that that this is my home, and I'm staying.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Dude, Where's My Wallet?

                Exactly one week ago, I misplaced my wallet whilst returning from Modi'in back to Jerusalem. You know those beautiful and life-affirming stories about people who lose their wallets/phones/marriage licenses/pets in Eilat and suddenly it winds up on their doorstep in Jerusalem? The kind where you wink and say "Only in Israel!"The kind where you just can't believe how crazy- wonderful life in Israel can be?! Well, this is not one of those stories! A full week later and I still have no wallet, nor even the faintest idea of where it might be. The main reason for this is that I don't know whether the wallet was stolen or misplaced, and that distinction has made all the difference. But for purposes of this blog post, I will focus on the funny, the silly, the exasperating parts of losing a wallet, while having only being an Israeli for a month and a half.
               So I'm on the bus and the first thing to note is that this is not an Egged bus. Egged is the largest bus provider in the country and most certainly in the Jerusalem area. Ninety-five percent of the buses I take in this country are Egged. But not this bus! This was a line called Kavim, which caters to the Modi'in area (about 30 minutes outside Jerusalem) and I would soon learn, Kavim is not my friend. This particular Tuesday I was absolutely exhausted. I had woken up at 5 AM to meet the newest olim via charter flight at the airport. What an amazing experience to welcome 330 Jew brothers and sisters in their new life in Israel! It just warmed my cold heart. Then I took the train (another chavaya/experience all on it's own!) to Tel Aviv to meet friends. I know Tel Aviv is, like, the greatest place ever, but I personally don't enjoy being there, going there, or visiting there, so it was a bittersweet excursion. The weather in Tel Aviv in the summer is somewhere between a swamp, a rain forest minus any precipitation, and a crowded sauna. All told, it is a place I visit because some of my favorite people live there and because, quite frankly, Birthrighters won't come visit me in Jerusalem.
              From Tel Aviv, I get a ride to Modi'in, which is essentially a large new neighborhood of apartment buildings with a huge shopping center in the middle. I don't mean to slight Modi'in- if you live there and I'm missing something cool, please let me know! Anyway, I mostly took the ride there because now that I have no car, riding in a car that I don't have to pay for is the greatest thing ever. Ask any American (or person!) who moves here and has to give up the comfort and mobility that comes with one's own car- getting a ride is just the biggest treat in life! I shopped for a bit in Modi'in and then boarded the bus back to Jerusalem. And conked out. The bus pulls into the Central Bus Station, I put on my pink headphones and head back to town. While walking back, I look into my bag for gum and notice that there is a suspiciously large amount of room in the bag. I have a small bag and an even smaller wallet, so there is an alarming lack of heft on my shoulder. I look in my shopping bags- and....nothing. I run back to the bus stop, all the way back sniffing the ground like a bloodhound, eyes peeled to the pavement, looking for my tiny, puffy wallet. It is not on the ground. Then I go into 2014-mode, googling names and numbers of the bus company on my phone. After an annoying debacle of finally locating the number for Superbus, I remember that my bus line was Kavim! 
                 So I finally locate Kavim's number, which sends me to an automated system. Lest any of you readers forget, I am Class B2 in ulpan. Today I learned a story from a children's TV show. I most certainly am not at the level of responding to an automated phone system! Apparently in this country, pressing zero does not take you to the operator- it takes you to the beginning of the automated system! Tears in my eyes, I frantically dialed the second number given on the website and blessedly got the voice of a live representative! After establishing he spoke English ("ehhhhhm a leeetle...") he understood my dilemma. 
"So, can you help me? I'm freaking out!"
"Oh, I understand. Eet must be so hard. So what bus was this?"
"The 110. From Modi'im"
"Oh, then you must call Kavim. This is Egged. I cannot help you."      
                  Can you imagine? Finally a live, English-speaking bus rep and he doesn't work for Kavim! Only in Israel! Anyway, let me skip ahead. Ultimately, thanks to my cousin, I made contact with a human Kavim rep. He left my message for the  bus drivers. So did the next rep I spoke to later that evening. And the one the next morning. And the one that afternoon. By the 4th time, my online file was jam-packed full of fruitless requests to the lost and found and I realized that maybe the glorious, miraculous stories we hear about finding what was lost was not in the cards. At that point, it was about rebuilding my life, via my wallet.
                Remember my blog post about the tedium of running errands here in Jerusalem? Imagine doing it all over again one month later. The bank, the health insurance, the bus card, the Jerusalem card, the student ID- all replaced in record time. Then came the American side of things. I had been checking my American bank to ensure nothing had been charged (blessedly) and reordered my credit cards, driver's license and Starbucks card (priorities- I'm working on a gold card!) Now all I have to do is wait until my visiting friends transport these cards over to me so I can resume life as normal. 
               All told, I lost a little bit of money (thankfully I rarely use cash. I'm as Ashkenazi as they come) and gained a whole lot of aggravation. I tell myself that things could have been much worse, that now I'm on a much-needed budget (blech) and that I'll know to be more careful in the future. Really, the hardest part is over- I told my mom I lost my wallet and she had a way smaller heart attack than I expected! And the best part is- I had a great story to tell all of you! Onwards and upwards!