Today's blog was supposed to be inspiring. I was going to tell the story of how I gave blood in Jerusalem. I was going to speak of the great joy I had, giving back to the country that has already given me so much, of finally contributing to Israeli society in a meaningful way. I was going to describe how I had sat on a long line, smack in the middle of the day, waiting upwards of 40 minutes, with another 10 Jews hoping to do something good with their day too. It was going to be a beautiful post, down to the picture of me smiling, "caught in the act (wink!)" of donating blood to the people of Israel. Of course, that is not what happened. After waiting upwards of 40 minutes, outside in the 90+ degree August heat (forgive me, Centigrade friends), I was informed that my iron level was .4 under where it must be for the great honor of giving them my blood as a present. Now, I know what you are going to say, it's not healthy for me or the recipient to give/take blood so devoid of precious iron, but I was livid. Really, I had myself to blame. I knew this might happen, that my iron levels might come back to bite me. Since coming to ulpan, I rarely eat meat. And here is why.
The meat (main) meal in this country is lunch. Lunch is served at 12:45. The line for food is a mile long by 12:46. Imagine, if you will, the best meal in the world. Steak, sushi- what have you. Imagine then, that it is free and plentiful. You would gladly wait on such a line, would you not? Unfortunately, in ulpan, everything in that scenario minus the insane line is the opposite. The food is free, to be sure, but it is also never appetizing (to me) and relatively sparse (no seconds!) On the rare occasion where I eat an ulpan dinner, it is generally two fried eggs, some rice or pasta (plain) and various salads. But for now we will discuss lunch. Allow me to set the scene- so it's 12:45 and my teacher has let the class out a bit early. I am first in line! Let's not celebrate just yet. Suddenly, I become very popular. People I barely know come over to chat with me about nothing. And stay there. And stand there. On the line. Because without my consent, I have just become an accessory to line- cutting! And lest you think this is a "rude American" phenomenon, please be aware that the worst perpetrators of line-cutting are the Russians and the French (in that order.) I don't want you to be concerned that I am segmenting the ulpan by nationality/language spoken- I mean, I am- but it is totally fine and accepted. We all refer to each other this way, makes things so much easier for descriptive purposes. Back to the lunch line. So it's me, my new best friends who've used my kindness to cut in front of 50 fellow students, the French, the Russians/Ukranians and a closed door. At 12:45, the door opens and lunch is served.
There are many students who enjoy the food at ulpan. I am not one of them. The choices are essentially meat or meat or meat or meat or unidentifiable fish or questionable vegetarian option. Now, I am no vegetarian, but since ulpan began, I have essentially become a pescetarian (fish-eater). This means, I always eschew the meat options, get scared by the veggie options and settle for the fish options. On any given day this means: 1) piece of fish in unidentifiable sauce, 2) fried fish (recipe: 3 pounds batter, 2 ounces fish) or today's option: 3) fish balls. I offered everyone in ulpan 100 shekel to identify the fish in fish balls, to no avail. Then to the side dishes. Can I interest you in some carbs? We have rice, pasta, potatoes, corn or couscous. As a Bostonian might say "cahbs on cahbs on cahbs." Next, you have your salad bar (term used loosely) and of course, your soup of the day. I do believe I am the only student at ulpan to be completely baffled by the need for hot soup on a scorching Jerusalem August day. Depending on the day, dessert will be served, and if you are one of the lucky few who get to the watermelon slices on time, I salute you.
So here's the main issue. I know that if I just ate the meat at lunch, I'd live a happier life. But in the USA, minus shabbat lunch, I never ate meat in the middle of the day. You see, I wait 6 full hours in between eating meat and dairy, which means if I had that schnitzel I've been eying for the past month, I might not even be able to eat the dairy I'm being served at dinner! It's truly a problem and one I haven't yet worked out. It does, however, explain why my iron is so low, and why I can't give my new country my true, blue- and- white, Zionist blood. Here's the plan: I will spend the next month building up my iron, so that I can regale you with my tale of finally giving back to my Homeland, as well as a full account of how delicious ulpan schnitzel really is. Can't wait!
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I moved into my ulpan dorm last week, and the only place where wifi is available is the common area in the lobby, and since my preferred blogging position is cross-legged on a bed listening to Britney Spears (yep, still) and wearing pajamas, this new arrangement isn't quite working for me.
If this post makes me come off as a spoiled American oleh, kvetching about first-world problems, well- that's probably a valid complaint. As far as New York Japs go (dispensing with the formality of being outraged at my employing the word "Jap") I would say I'm a solid 5.3. I can rough it if I have to, I can kill bugs, I can eat on the floor/grass, my grooming regimen is pretty normal, but at the same time- I like nice things, I have more pairs of shoes than most full-sized families, and my cooking skills are virtually nonexistent. So when I came to my new home for the next 5 months (we'll see...) my expectations were about what a seminary girl or university student might expect from her new dorm home for the next year. Oh, those heady days with my biggest fear being how small my closet would be.
When applying for ulpan, you are told the rooms accommodate two or four residents each. Requests are not allowed, but (obviously) I wrote an impassioned email to the ulpan, imploring them to have pity on a single oleh in my current stage of life, and put me in a room of two. Lo and behold, I enter the ulpan and am informed that there is a magical rooming option called "a 3- person room!" Two people sleep in a larger bedroom and then there is one tiny adjoining room- big enough for a bed and 2 shelves. I honestly saw this room and little sparkling hearts appeared before my eyes. I wanted this room. So I asked, in my most charming possible way, if before anyone else moved in, I might have one of those treasured rooms instead on the teeny tiny room I was to share with another person. I spoke to the madrich (dorm counselor), then the guidance counselor, and then the office assistant in charge of making the rooms. I was offered a 4 person room instead. I was gobsmacked. I know I'm new to this country, but by my estimation 4 people is more than 3 and most certainly more than 2! It was a no- go. Let the record show "In July of 2014, Jordana Brown did not get what she so politely requested, and she still lived." So, on to the room that I begrudgingly moved into.
During orientation, we were told that we are the 130th session of our ulpan. That means our ulpan has been functioning for over 65 years. To say that my room has not been renovated since then is no exaggeration. We are talking original electricity, plumbing, furniture and grime. We are talking Six-Day War- era luxury. We are talking Yom Kippur War-time facilities. There is no air-conditioning in the room. Thankful as I am for Jerusalem's blessed nighttime breezes, they are often accompanied by the rowdy noise of the students outside at 1 AM. So what's it gonna be- sweaty but quiet or breezy and raucous? You choose! Let's take a tour of my domicile, shall we?
First to the beds. You know when you have a child over to your house, and he's only but 5 years old, so you keep a small bed in case he sleeps over? That is our bed. A mattress as thick as a notebook, wedged into a tiny metal bed frame. Two shelves and an adorably rickety desk, round out the bedroom furniture. Did I mention my roommate and I are so physically close to one another we can stare lovingly into each other's eyes and share secrets all night? We can, except we're adults, so we don't.
Onto the kitchen. A welcome surprise! Although it was left to us in a condition somewhere in between dirty and the kitchen-that-time-forgot, we still have a cute little fridge/freezer, a whole bunch of cabinets and drawers (which I will likely use to store excess shoes) and a burner/hot plate combo. It is the bright spot of the dorm, and my new happy place.
To the bathroom, possibly the most shock-inducing room in out palatial dormitory. There is the shower, a misnomer as it is basically a continuation of the floor with a spout on top, a sink; which only has pressue on the "hot" tap, of course, and then the "medicine cabinet" which is currently housing my Advil. And it's full. Add to this the prehistoric grime my roommate and I have to eradicate, and we most certainly are living the Israeli dream.
Any of you who know me know that I have a lot of clothing/shoes/accessories. You saw me packing and thought "where will she keep all this?" Well, I am here to inform you that you were all correct! I have 2 large and beautiful clothing cabinets except for the niggling fact that I have to share them! On our little, tiny hanging- clothing rod, of which I was given half, I have essentially put 3 items of clothing on every hanger. I have turned my closet into a virtual rummage sale, or the clearance section at TJ Maxx. Nothing makes sense. Denim vests on shabbat dresses, leather jackets over maxi dresses- it's chaos in there!
But let's end this post on an up- note! I am trying to make this work. I am working to make this dorm my home. I am putting up pictures and posters. I am keeping things clean, neat and orderly. I am stocking my fridge with essentials (and by essentials I obviously mean cereal and cheese.) I am picking up cute (and cheap!) wastebaskets and other assorted knicknacks to brighten up the place. And I am constantly telling myself- you live in Jerusalem, the most beautiful home in the world! It ain't so bad!
You know that dream we all have where you are sitting in class, about to take a test, and you completely blank on everything? Including your name and how to correctly hold a pencil? Usually, these dreams peter out over time, as we move further from our school days, but I'd estimate I still have them 3-4 times a year. That is 3-4 mornings where I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering why in the world I signed up for physics when I barely passed chemistry! Then I calm myself down, put on my grown-up clothes, and drive my grown-up car to my grown-up job. I have been done with school for many years, and always assumed I was done forever. But now I'm back!
I haven't gone back to college or university or trade school or anything (although I'm looking into becoming an electrician- those guys make a fortune here!). I am spending the next 5 months in an Ulpan program, where I will intensively study Hebrew language, 5 days a week, 5 hours a day. My goal is to become fluent, or at least on the road to fluency. It kills me that after being in Israel a million times, spending 12 years in Jewish schools and a tremendous amount of time with Israelis, I am essentially at a 6 year old level, at least grammatically. And if you know me, you know that I take grammar seriously. So I signed up for this program, where my classes are free and my living expenses are subsidized (more on that in my next post- lots to say about my new accommodations!)
I haven't really moved in yet but I got to the ulpan yesterday to speak to an administrator about some informational stuff I needed. Little did I know that I was late for an orientation! People may joke that I am late to meet them ("In the car! On the highway! Traffic!") but for the first day of school? I am Swiss-precision, generally. So I get to the ulpan and see a gaggle of Israeli staff, informing the new students of various rules, requirements and factoids. So I stood outside, like an interloper rather than an actual student, and listened to one teacher after another take a crack at a "Hebrish" (Hebrew+English hybrid) introduction.
After the intros, I realized that I was wholly and completely unprepared to start classes. I didn't have my passport photos on me, or my teudat oleh, I hadn't gotten my student card, and I was apparently late to take my placement test. Have you ever had your nightmare actually come true, almost to the letter?! So I begged apologies, promised I'd have everything ready by class time, wrote down all the information I was given (pro tip- teachers love when you take notes) and headed over to take my Hebrew test.
If you are reading this and you don't know me well, you should be aware of 2 facts about me: 1) I need to excel at my studies, or else I get anxious and 2) I will do the absolute minimal amount of work/studying to accomplish this. This is why this test was really up my alley. There was no studying required, and I think I did pretty well. There was a multiple choice section, basically focusing on you spoken- grammar knowledge, a written section (where I wrote a 4th grade-level paragraph about my first day in Israel post aliyah) and a short conversation with 2 of the most Israeli-type Israeli ladies I've ever met. At the end of it, they told me I spoke "very nicely" and I just about floated out of there.
Another interesting part of testing day was meeting the other students. There are both internal (living at the ulpan) and external (living on your own) students and we hail from all over the world. And by all over the world, I mean France. I'm kidding, but also not. There are a load of French Jews fleeing France right now, and I totally get it. As an American, you move to Israel, where most of the people you know here are also American olim (okay, maybe Canadians too) and you assume that everyone in your ulpan will be American, though hopefully not New Yorkers. I'm hoping I fill the New Yorker quota. But the reality is, I was one of the only English speakers! There were French, Italians, Latinos, Russians ("wherever ya go, there's always someone Jewish!") but basically just me and a few Brits speaking the Queen's language. So I essentially just spoke to them for now, biding my time until both myself and the others can all have beautiful and meaningful conversation together- in Hebrew!
As soon as I know my class level results, I'll pass them along, in addition to a detailed post about my impressions of my new home base here in Jerusalem. Until then- shalom, chaverim! (Goodbye, friends!)
