Jordana in 2020

The last time I posted a blog was in January. And while that may sound weird, considering the downtime we've all had this past year, let us also consider what we've largely been doing: Nothing.

For posterity's sake and in case my kids ever read this blog on their iPhone37s one day, we are T- minus 7 days from 2021. And while I assumed we'd be entering this new year filled with optimism for better times ahead, I can't help but be tempered by the reality that I'm last on the list for a vaccine, we need 70-80% country-wide compliance before things can return to normal, and mostly- we have no idea what normal actually means.

So maybe a yearly recap then? In January I was traveling (lol!) through Europe, not a care in the world. I came back with a wicked case of laryngeo-tracheitis which upon reflection I wonder was early-adoption Covid. I think everyone I know who was randomly sick in January or February 2020 thinks they were patient zero for Covid, but I digress.

This gal traveling in Portugal has no idea what's coming

I remember watching a Facebook video about a virus in far-flung Wuhan, China which looked out of a science fiction/horror movie. "Wow," I thought, "It must really suck to live in Wuhan." Never did I expect it would suck to live... literally everywhere.

Then came Purim and rumblings that the virus was spreading. Did I go to shul and a party? Yep! Was I on a committee to host a dinner the Friday night following that the rabbi didn't want to cancel because he was sure it would all be fine by then? Yep! Was that the beginning of life as we knew it? YEP!

In short order, life shut down. It was during the first lockdown that I really understood the breadth of the pandemic. Of course there was the physical toll (more on that later) but the emotional, economic and mental tolls were never something I foresaw. And it was that mental and emotional strain that caused me to flee a country that had Covid "under control" (Israel) to join the hysterical masses in Covid-ravaged New York to be with my family. 

To Cliff's Notes the next part of the year: I flew in an empty airport, essentially holding my breath in fear for 10 hours before joining my parents in a house where we all wore masks. Around each other. We had a lovely, low-key Pesach after which I discovered that there was essentially no way for me to get back home. Flight after flight got canceled, resulting in nine incredible weeks in NYC. And by NYC I mean the four walls of my house because I basically saw nothing and went nowhere.

All that said, those nine weeks were bizarrely some of the most incredible I've ever had. Tragically, my grandfather Henry Sealine passed in the beginning of my stay. I was able to say goodbye to him and attend his funeral which probably would have been difficult in the best of times but certainly impossible during a pandemic. I was able to be there for my mother during a shiva week where no one else could be there for her. I was able to watch my nephews and grocery shop and help out in a way I generally can't living so far away.

And my sister's family was under the same roof en route to moving houses, so I had nine weeks of unadulterated family time, which I know will never happen again. So that was definitely the peak in a year chock full of valleys.

Did I force my family to take this photo because I never get to be in family photos anymore? Sure did!

Finally I came home and by that I mean to my apartment. All the time. As someone I refer to as "Covid-careful" (too careful?) I turned into someone totally new- a homebody. Pre-Covid I was out maybe 4-5 nights a week. I was social, guys. Suddenly I was always home. Parties were paused as were big Shabbat dinners. Weddings were on Zoom and so was wine club. Meeting new people became difficult so dating became even more so. Tel Aviv, the Israeli city that never slept took a long nap (for me at least- I saw some people raging on Instagram and well- it's their lives!) Summer passed me by unnoticed and Fall was largely uneventful but punctuated by High Holidays spent praying alone due to a second country-wide lockdown.

Here we are in December and heading into yet another lockdown (an idea so amazingly beneficial it has to be tried again!) Truth be told, I was unaware the second lockdown had ended. Just passing closed restaurant after shuttered bar- I didn't really see the point of this lockdown but then again, I'm not one of the super-geniuses running our government (can't wait to choose my favorite super-genius in the upcoming "yearly election!")

I'm now chilling in bidud (quarantine) because I recently went back to the States for an even shorter period of time than I will be in said quarantine. And why would I make such a crazy sacrifice? Because my delicious nephew was a bar mitzvah and some things in this world are worth the aggravation of Covid flights, 4 Covid tests, a 2- week quarantine and month-long jet-lag. This was one of them. 

Me and my favorite Bar Mitzvah young man

So here I sit- a few days before my bidud birthday and on the precipice of a new year. One that the optimist in me hopes is better, while the science-lover in me waits patiently for the vaccine. And until then I will wear my mask, eat my sushi at home, a raise a rosé l'chaim to 2021- may it be the happiest, healthiest year yet!

A Land of Our Own

Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day and the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. One of the two days in the year (the other being Yom HaShoah) where the world has the opportunity to reflect on the horrors of the Holocaust. I think, for Jews, that opportunity comes up a lot more often. For someone like me, who has a mild to moderate obsession with the history of the Holocaust, I reflect quite regularly.

I spent last week in Europe, mostly traveling alone. I went to Lisbon, Frankfurt and London on my yearly "mental health break" where I see the world and just breathe a bit (if you can swing it, I highly recommend it.) And in between scavenging for kosher food, seeing the sights, sailing on those ubiquitous European rivers and shopping ("Zaras across Europe!") I did what I always do. I designed my usual "Jordana's Jewish tour" of whatever city I traveled. 

In Lisbon, I saw a tiny community, a Chabad that is currently closed until March, no real kosher to speak of (Gd bless their one outpost) and a generally empty synagogue. Portugal has a storied (read: horrible) history with regards to their Jewish citizens. In deference to Spain, Portugal expelled, killed or forcibly converted all their Jews in the 1500's. Jews weren't allowed back into the country for hundreds of years. Today, the Lisbon Jewish community is around 300 and the Porto community ("much bigger!" exclaims my tour guide) hovers around 400. There is also a belief that due to the widespread phenomenon of hidden or crypto-Jews, as much as 35% of the Portuguese have Jewish blood. That's great. Didn't stop me from having to send my passport in advance to be able to be let into the bulletproof gate surrounding the synagogue that, when built, wasn't allowed to face the street. Because Christianity. Moving on to Frankfurt.

Beautiful shul for a tiny community

I'm sure it's unsurprising that I may have felt some trepidation as a Jew in Frankfurt. In this particular instance, I came for one full day and stayed with a close friend who observes kosher. Which was wonderful. While my hostess took care of errands, I went to the open Jewish museum (the main one is undergoing renovation) which focused on the Judengasse- essentially the Jewish street right down the middle of the Jewish ghetto-home to all of Frankfurt's Jews for hundreds of years. And, of course, the museum was guarded by two burly, heavily armed soldiers right out front. Because, Europe.

Can you tell I was nervous to photograph the guards?

The museum is free and beautifully done and maintained. I saw relics of a time and a place long-gone. I also read stories of regular pogroms, and regular blood libels and absurdly high taxes, and forced money-lending jobs, and displacement, and otherness and Jews essentially being at the mercy of whomever the king or kaiser happened to be at the time. And this, my friends, was one hundred years before Hitler.

Thanks Germany!

Then I went to London and well, I love London. I've seen so much of it so when my host suggested I spend the morning of my last day at the permanent Holocaust exhibit at the Imperial War Museum, I jumped at the chance (it's like she was in my brain!) And as I walked through the impeccably done exhibit, I wasn't focusing as much on the stories and displays as I was on my fellow visitors. I was watching them read and ingest so much of what I already knew and have seen (I've been to Yad Vashem alone well over 25 times.) I hoped they made the connection between anti-Semitism before the war and some of what they heard about in the news today and hoped they'd try to be part of the solution.

A lot of what I thought about was those who try to deny Jews the right to their homeland, specifically anti-Zionist Jews. I had to wonder- have they been to a Holocaust museum? A European synagogue with soldiers armed to the teeth posted outside? A memorial to a ghetto where Jews were made to be outsiders, endlessly wandering with nowhere to call home? Have these people ever really understood the rootlessness, the all-consuming fear that must come from having nowhere to go? Or have they lived their whole lives in the warm embrace of an America or a Canada where they're just as accepted and just as integrated as anyone else in their neighborhood?

I'm grateful to the United States for providing Jews with a safe place to settle after thousands of years of crusades and pogroms and expulsions and Holocausts. But I never take the miracle of Israel for granted and I always feel the luckiest to live here, on my own terms. I wasn't forced to make aliyah (quite the opposite!) and maybe it just takes a quick trip to Europe or a special day like Holocaust Remembrance Day for me to realize that "Never Again" is only a reality because Jews will never be homeless again. 

In unending appreciation to the blessed US soldiers who liberated the hell that was Auschwitz, the saintly righteous among the nations, who risked their lives for other human beings, and the State of Israel, for providing a safe haven for all Jews from all places, whether they choose to live here or not. May G-d watch over you and keep you safe.

Goodbye to the City of Gold

I'm sitting here in my first Israeli apartment, surrounded by boxes and bags, waiting for my moving truck. This is the first time I've properly sat here all week. I've been collecting boxes, shlepping and folding, throwing (not enough) things out and taking full cars of stuff to the new place. And my apartment is doing this crazy magic trick where I move more and more things out and yet it never looks less full. 

About 1/10 of my never-ending box-stravaganza

I remember moving in here 3 years ago with around 5 big duffel bags. It is insane (and highly embarrassing) to realize how much I've accumulated these past years. But I had to turn this empty box into a home, and that I did.

I am moving to Tel Aviv today. I know it seems totally crazy, especially to you readers who don't know me or to those I haven't spoken to in a while. I have been the consummate Jerusalemite- heck, I even named my blog after my city! And I was certainly no fan of Tel Aviv in the past. But over the past years, that's changed. I know I don't blog as frequently as I did or should, but I'm a different Jordana than the one who made Aliyah. I'm still an observant Jew (that's a common question when people ask how I could possibly move to Tel Aviv.) I'm still a fervent, full- throated Zionist (and a right-winger, about to move to the city of the Left!) I'm still committed to staying in Israel for the long haul, with no plans to move back to the States (sorry, Mama.)

But this is where my road is taking me- a new city, new friends (keeping the old ones though, because I picked some good ones here in Jerusalem), a new job (pending!), a lovely new apartment with a new incredible roommate (after 3 years of living alone!) and oh yeah- the beach!

It's true- I do!

I leave behind the city I love most and the birthplace of a thousand stories. In my years visiting, Jerusalem was my anchor- it was where I landed and the place I knew best. I can get anywhere, find anything in this city. There is nowhere more diverse, beautiful, frustrating and real. I know that I will miss this city, its people and its stones every single day. I know that I will come back to visit, at first a lot, and then less. I know that when my Tel Avivi friends laugh about Jerusalem- its religiosity, its conflict, its otherness- I won't join in. I will be the defender of the Holy City in the White City- because if they only knew Jerusalem like I know Jerusalem, they'd fall in love too.

But it's time to go and start fresh now. It's time to feel the sand between my toes and sip cafe hafuch on Rothschild. It's time to stay out til 3 am and then hit up the huge kiddush in shul on Shabbat afternoon. It's time to hang out on rooftops and turn on the air conditioning! It's time for me to make the move. And find a new blog name too, huh?

Saying goodbye to the Cabana

If life is a book with many chapters, and I'm on to the next one. Keep reading to find out what's in store!

Xoxo,

Jordana (originally of) Jerusalem 

On Parades and Aliyah

I may have mentioned that I grew up in a super pro-Israel household. The Israeli flag flies outside our door. I toured the country top to bottom at 13 with my family. We ate falafel at shul every Yom Haatzmaut. And most importantly, my family attended every Salute To Israel Parade down Fifth  Avenue in New York City, every year of my life. 

I was rolled through it as a baby in my stroller, flag flying behind me. I was a spectator most of my childhood, due to the chareidi nature of my elementary and high schools- Bais Yaakov of Queens may not have marched, but the Brown family most definitely attended! In 11th grade, I switched to a Zionist high school and was able to march for the first time. All my new friends yawned and complained about having to march again, but I was unbelievably excited. I even marched proudly again in 12th grade, when a large segment of my senior peers opted out. And in the college and post-college years that followed, Parade Day was one I always looked forward to, painting my nails blue and white and planning my outfits and coordinating meet up spots with my friends, some of whom I would only see on that one magical day of the year. 

I think I've also mentioned that it was never my lifelong goal to make Aliyah. For much of my young adulthood, my goals were: getting a well-paying job, finding a fellow pro-Israel  Jew to marry, settling down in some orthodox Jewish enclave and raising pro-Israel children, who would then hopefully repeat the cycle. Nothing on that list isn't exactly what 99% of my friends were hoping to accomplish as well. But about 6 years ago, when I began to become interested in Israel as a place to live, rather than a place to visit, the Parade changed for me, too. 

Deciding to move to Israel is a seismic, fundamental shift in character. It is a change in every way you can imagine, and my own move shocked everyone who wasn't intimately involved in my Zionist activism in the few years that preceded it. If you didn't see me during the years I took those 12 Birthright  groups to Israel, you would think I was the same Jordana who sang "Hatikva" at my Young Israel's 5k run-walk for Israel".

But once I decided that Israel was the place I had to live, because I am a pro-Israel Jew, I began to feel something odd at the parade. This isn't going  to be a blog where I berate everyone for not making Aliyah- I'm sure that will come someday, but not today. This is just my view as Jordana in Jerusalem, and maybe a bit of food for thought as well. 

Supporting Israel is great. Visiting Israel for Sukkot is great. Donating to Israel  is great. Singing hatikva in your Young Israel is great. Hanging the Israeli flag outside your home is great. Cheering on Team Israel at the World Baseball  Classic is great. Eating a shwarma on Main Street that Dudu sold you is great. Painting your nails blue and white is great. Dancing to Omer Adam at your house party is great. And going to the Salute to Israel Parade is great!

But it is not the goal, or at least it shouldn't be. Even if you think Aliyah isn't for you- it's so hard (it is), you'll be poor (you will), it's too far (sooo far), you don't speak Hebrew (lo norah), the people are mean (yeah, but they're also so nice!) and every other excuse I've heard a million times, it should be an ideal. Something you wish you could do, you hope to do someday. I promise you, ten years ago, Aliyah was not in my plans. But it was always an ideal, something I wished I could do. And ten years later I did!

Just think about it, and have an amazing time celebrating our country at today's parade!

My last parade before Aliyah

69 MORE Reasons I love Israel!

Well, kids! It's been ages since the last time I blogged. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me "When are you writing a new blog post?" I'd have... like 40 dollars. And most of that would be from my mom. But here I am, back in action, special for the best holiday of the year- Yom Ha'atzmaut! I can't say that nothing has happened in my life since September 2016, of course it has. But nothing that moved me to write a blog post, I guess. But now that I'm back here, maybe I'll stay! Aliyah starts with excitement and new and different and then a few years in, it's normal. It's your life. Sure, the bank is always an experience, but you've already been to the bank 100 times! So hopefully I can get back into making quality content on this blog- even if I have to just make stuff up- just kidding!

As yesterday was Israeli Independence Day and this year I actually spent it in Israel (unlike last year) I thought I'd give 69 more reasons I love this Land- one for every year since our Independence. Only, it's a bit hard to come up with so many new things! Not that Israel isn't truly magical every day, but it can be hard to quantify all the little things that make this so great. So I came up with a bunch and asked people (basically everyone) I knew to contribute. And here they are:

The 69 Reasons I love Israel Most

1) I love that I could watch the American presidential election go down from the sidelines, because if I lived in NYC I know I would have been completely immersed. And probably gone crazy.
2) I love that I've met my mayor six times.
3) Unlike my family in NYC, I love my mayor.

4) I loved watching everyone running the Jerusalem marathon in different colored t-shirts denoting worthy Jewish charities.
5) I love that delicious kosher options are exploding all over Israel-so many that visiting friends don't even know where to start and need to plan return trips to try them all.
6) I love all the amazing musical artists coming to perform here, knowing Israelis are among the best and loudest fans they have (see you soon, Aerosmith and Britney!)
7) I love that Israel wants to help the Jewish nation grow- providing IVF and fertility services for women who are struggling to conceive.
8) I still love the vibe of the shuk at night- a learning about my history and culture with the graffiti-ed murals painted on all the stalls. 
9) I love the National Israeli Baseball Team, who came out of nowhere to make the whole country so proud when they rocked the World Baseball Classic.

10) I still love Cofix- even though they raised their prices! (from 5 to 6 shekel!)

11) I love how Israel won 2 Olympic (bronze) medals and the country celebrated more than America and her 121 medals ever could.
12) I love how excited Israelis are about Ama're Stoudemire- they love basketball and America so no matter what he does here for his team, he's a hero.
13) I love that my quest for the ultimate Israeli breakfast continues another year (Adraba in TLV and Nocturno in Nachlaot are favorites for this year.)
14) I love the unity I'm seeing from our ally, the USA. I'm excited for the strengthened friendship Nikki Haley and David Friedman seem to be spearheading.
15) I loved seeing the desert bloom this winter as the South hosted the Darom Adom (Red South) festival.
16) I love how handy and well-equipped Israeli guys are- they can pitch a tent, start a fire, change a tire and make a mean poika (kind of a beach stew) without breaking a sweat.
17) I love spending Shabbat in Tel Aviv! I know, right? I have the privilege of having shabbat dinner with 150 young professionals of all stripes and then enjoying an incredible Shabbat day kiddush every time I go!
18) I know it might seem odd, but after many years, this year I went to my first Henna- twice! I love Hennas! I love the pageantry and the food and the music and the culture of my Sephardi brothers and sisters.

19) Speaking of smachot- I love Israeli weddings! Most of them may not be as lavish as the ones in the States, but they are so beautiful! The backdrops, the views, the mix of guests- every wedding holds the potential for the best night of the year.
20) I love photo magnets! Apparently this hasn't caught on in the US just yet (I think you do photo booths?) but it's super fun to get photo mementos of being all dressed up with your friends and blanketing your whole fridge in magnets.

21) I've said it before but I love wine festivals! And since last year, I've discovered that Herzeliya also has a white wine festival- so that's basically a dream come true!
22) I love the normalcy that comes with living here almost 3 years.  Life here now is normal, and I love knowing that I'm where I'm meant to be.
23) I love that I live in the center of Jewish world- it's so fun always bumping into someone you know from back in the day or getting to see friends and family from the old country when they make a visit here.
24) I love the left- wing Israelis. I know that seems odd coming from me, but defending my position and my ideology in a productive and meaningful way both opens my mind and strengthens my own beliefs.
25) I love that the rhythm of the country is based on Judaism. Weeks, months and years- Israel moves to a Jewish beat.
26) I love that losing your wallet often ends with its return and your faith in humanity rejuvenated.
27) I love how here in Israel, my third cousins are just "cousins." I feel just as close to them as I do my first cousins back in the States, because they have taken me into their family so fully and lovingly.
28) I love that Tinder in Israel is basically JSwipe and Jews are able to meet other Jews and start Jewish families and have Jewish babies. Makes me smile.
29) I love ending a fun night out with a 3 AM shwarma. 

30) I love that even the graffiti is Jewish- Na Nach Nachman Me'uman! 

31) I loved the way the country stops on Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hashoa. A lot has been said about it, but I agree. It's beautiful and important.
32) I love how different Yom Hazikaron is from Memorial Day in the States. I love that Israelis consider it one of the holiest days of their year and grieve so fully for their loved ones. It hits home for everyone here, and it's palpable.
33) I love Yom Ha'atzmaut! Don't get me wrong, July 4 is super fun but for me it doesn;t compare to Israeli Independence Day. And the celebrations are non-comparable too- Israelis GO WILD for their tiny country built on miracles! 
34) I love that you know the next Jewish holiday because of what is on sale at the supermarket (like donuts before Hanukkah, dried fruit before Tu b'Shvat, and cleaning supplies before Pesach!)
35) I love that little kids will tell you we must save water "for the Kinneret"
36) I love that this country actually utilizes the Hebrew (lunar) calendar! In the US, I probably couldn't even tell you the lunar month. Here, you can write the Hebrew date on your checks!

37) I love that Israelis are called Sabras- prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside is the perfect fruit-based analogy.
38) I love how I get to know different cultures, both Israeli and of my fellow olim. Anglos/English speakers are diverse, we're not just Americans! I now know lots about the Brits, Canadians, Aussies and South Africans (my fave!)
39) I love that most of my most important phone apps were developed in Israel- where would we be without Whatsapp, Moovit, and Waze? (Probably friendless, stranded and lost!)
40) I love when Birthright season begins- I pray now more than ever, Jews in the diaspora will see how incredible Israel is and spread the word.

41) I love Wine Wednesday. It's a charity initiative in Tel Aviv where young professionals get together (Usually on a gorgeous rooftop) to raise money for a worthy charity and drink wine with friends. It's the best way to give back! 

42) I love that when Israelis get married and move away, they're generally generally still nearby. Makes me a bit sad that I can't say the same (although my parents can always make aliyah and join me- keep praying, friends!)
43) I love when people say that I'm so lucky that I live here, and I get to tell them that they too can live here! And the government will even give them money to do so!

44) I love that Israel revived a dead language. What was for so many year only utilized in Torah study is now a thriving and ever-growing language representing the Jewish homeland.
45) I love that cab drivers will always have a guy for you. It is amazing how they can truly see how perfect Dudu and I would be for each other after 7 minutes in a cab.
46) I love the sign on the bus that says what day of the Omer it is.
47) I love having one day of chag. When I lived in the States, I swore the extra day made the chag extra beautiful. I lied. Make that one day beautiful.
48) I love that Aroma gets in on Jewish holidays like giving gelt on Chanuka and funny face wrapped chocolates on Purim.

49) I love the aggressive love Israelis show you once you finally establish that it is, in fact, coming from a place of love. It's like a country full of people who want what's best for you, whether or not you want the same.
50) I love that Shabbat dinner isn't just for the Orthodox here- that so many Israelis consider this beautiful custom an important tradition.

51) I love all the budget airlines that allow cheaper travel. I have flown to more countries in 2 years than all my life in NYC, and on extremely sketchy airline (one was actually called JetAirFly.com- I kid you not!)
52) I love that the buskers here play Jewish songs.
53) I love the siren before Shabbat, letting you know the country is about to slow way down.
54) I love the Bar mitzvah celebrations in the Old City- a cacophony of shofar blowing and bongo playing accompanying the 13 year old and his 50 closest family members and friends.
55) I love that Israelis call their friends "neshama" or "soul."
56) I love borrowing money from someone behind me on the bus and having them tell me to give it to tzedaka instead of paying them back.
57) I love that the municipality decorated the side streets of downtown Jerusalem all summer, making our beautiful city even more so!

58) I love the Israeli folk dancing in public places- Israeli senior citizens staying fit and young by cutting a rug on a Tuesday evening.
59) I still love the light rail- even when it gets held up for 17 minutes for suspicious objects, it's still a super quick and comfortable alternative to the bus and it has made Yafo street pedestrian and therefore an excellent place to stroll.
60) I love that I have the ability to connect with other Israelis anywhere in the world. Whether is was my pub-crawl guide in Amsterdam, my waiter in Paris or the owner of my bagel store in NYC, being Israeli gives you an instant connection to other people around the world. Israelis are a roaming people, but it's certainly special to find a piece of home so far away.

61) I love Jerusalem stone- its is strong, and beautiful and everything in this city is composed of it. Every time I see it in the States and hear how hard it was to get it and how expensive it was to import it, I think "My city is just covered in the stuff!"
62) I love the fact that the news has someone translating everything into sign language and so do Yom Ha'azmaut concerts! Watching someone "sing" hatikvah in sign language is so moving!63) I love that I don't have a car and I'm surviving just fine. I basically lives in my car in Queens and thought that this change would be horrible- it hasn't and I make it work. Maybe one day, though...
63) I love that the Israel haters bother me less- I live here, I see the good, I know the truth. I can see for myself how wonderful it is, I don't need their approval or acceptance. And I'll never get it any way, so why be upset about it?
64) I love how people say "Shabbat shalom", not "Have a good weekend." This may be due to the fact that essentially our whole weekend is shabbat, since Sundays are workdays, but I prefer to see the Jewish beauty in the concept.
65) I love how there are a bazillion native English speakers, but no one ever seems to ask us to proofread their signs or menus! I wait patiently for the day when someone posts a job opening seeking "translations proofreader." Then my aliyah will be truly perfect.
66) I love how this is a country full of Jewish mothers, which means that pretty much everywhere you go, someone in looking out for you and worrying about you. Makes ya feel good.
67) I love how we call Israel "Ha'aretz- the Land" and anywhere outside of it "Chutz La'aretz- outside the Land."
68) I love how when I had a bit of trouble coming up with so many things, everyone had a suggestion which made me fall even more deeply in love with this place.
69) I love how now that this is my home, I get to find new things to love about it every day!

Thank you for reading and feel free to add your own reasons! Looking forward to another fantastic year in Israel, awaiting the day when you join me and together we can celebrate Israel's 70th- next year in Jerusalem!

Work in Progress

I may have mentioned before that I live in the center of Downtown Jerusalem. Reactions to this information are mixed. They range from “That is so so cool!” to “Um, why?” The short answer is that I wanted to live alone and this was the best and most affordable option, while still being walking distance to everywhere other single Orthodox Jews live. And for the most part, my apartment situation has been an utter delight. My apartment is light and airy, tiny but perfectly sized for me, and truly in a fabulously central location. Almost no complaints. Almost. Although, I do have at least one complaint, and IT IS HUGE.

One of the things people worried about with me living in town is the noise. (No one here was worried it was dangerous to live there alone, because #Israel.) They thought my proximity to bars and restaurants would keep me up at night and cause me untold angst. For some reason, though, the noise of the restaurants and bars barely registers in my little studio. Even though they are open every night (including Friday night- sigh) and even though I am only one flight up and leave my windows open for the breeze, it is not the boisterous chatter of people much more social than me that is causing me the most distress. It is the roadwork.

Most people who now hear where I live wonder, “Haven’t they been working on your street for a while now?” Why yes, kind friends, they have! They have been working on “fixing” my street since before I moved in, and I have no doubt, will continue working on it till long after I am gone (either after my lease is up or at 120, whichever comes first.) I would like to say that the municipality is working on a huge upgrade to both the city and the world, based on the amount of time this renovation is taking, but I literally have no clue what the plan is with this street, and it’s been 6 months!

Site of "Construction/Brick Moving/Earsplitting Noise" at Night

They seem to be moving the barriers side to side, incrementally, weekly. I am pretty sure they are doing this purposely, to mess with me. Sometimes they will put down new bricks, sometimes, those bricks are gone the next day. Sometimes there are cranes and bulldozers, other times, shovels and jackhammers. Sometimes there are barriers, sometimes you are free to wander in and fall to your death in an unguarded hole in the ground. It’s truly an exciting game of “What on earth are they doing?”

But honestly, I wouldn’t care at all if they wanted to build a new light rail line through the street if it wasn’t such a huge, life-altering inconvenience to me with no foreseeable end. Take, for example, the fact that the road is essentially a one-car-at-a-time quagmire that is perpetually filled with honking cars. If, for some reason, I wished to subject someone giving me a ride, or a cab driver to that mess, that would be one thing. But even if I did, I’d be caught in a web of gates, keeping me from my door, unless I wanted to climb back up the block and then down, or down the block and then back up. That is to say, there is no point in getting a ride to my block, as I will essentially have to walk 2 extra blocks anyway. This also makes food or grocery delivery all but impossible, as I feel horrible making anyone deal with the construction zone that is my street. You can imagine what a delight this was during the weeks I was moving in and delivery men would come with my furniture. No amount of “I’m so sorry” could wipe the scowls off their faces after tangling with my street.

But truly, the worst part is the noise, as everyone had warned me. See, in New York, road work and construction work in general are often done overnight (on highways) and on private streets during working hours, so as not to disrupt the sleeping residents of that area. Not so in downtown Jerusalem! Prime brick- moving hours are from 6-8 AM and premium jackhammering takes place from 10pm to 12 am most nights. In case you’re playing at home, that’s before most people wake up and while most people are trying to get to sleep! And if you’re wondering what is going on from 8 am until 10 pm in that construction area… you guessed it! Nothing! Perhaps the workers are catching up on all that sleep they’re missing while they assault my eardrums late at night and early the next morning. And lest you think it’s just the jackhammering and bulldozing that make up the soundtrack to my life these days, there is also varying levels of screaming that takes place amongst the workers as they move their bricks. And I assure you, there are few things more melodious than a man yelling “Ahmed! Ahmed!” at his friend who is down the block, jackhammering, oblivious to any other sounds. Only I am privy to the constant and unending calls of “Ahmed!,” as Ahmed works to blow out my hearing faculties from a different vantage point.

And here it is in the daytime-true beauty!

I think I had basically learned to block the sounds out, and then it became summer and I started leaving my windows open for air, and then the sounds traveled from outside and magically ended up right near my bed. Sometimes, I don’t notice that it’s that bad and then a friend will sleep over and inform me in the morning that she “couldn’t sleep a wink” due to all the noise. And then I feel terrible, because my goal in life is to be an amazing hostess and show people the best Jerusalem time imaginable.

So that’s basically what it’s like to live on a construction site for 6 months, stretching out into infinity. Do I think the work will ever be done? In my low moments- no. I assume they are building an underground tunnel to China or spearheading a Jerusalem subway project on my block without telling anyone. I imagine there are no actual plans for the street, and that the brick-moving will continue, interminably, forever. Who really knows? All I know is that it’s another way Israel is showing me that it’s not perfect, because nothing is perfect. There will be bumps along the way, but I think living on a noisy street in Jerusalem beats living on a quiet street in Queens any day!

Confessions of a Retired Birthright Counselor.

          Facebook has this fun new shtick where you can see what your Facebook activity consisted of on that day of each year since you joined the network. It's a kind of "This is your life," for the new millennium- a scarily accurate analogy for people who "live" on Facebook. Anyway, this week I noticed that one year ago that day I left for my final Birthright trip. For those of you who don't know (which is basically only people who've never met me, so- welcome!) I have staffed A LOT of Taglit-Birthright trips. Twelve, to be exact. So many that the powers that be honored that milestone with a little certificate and it was SO cute and I loved every trip. 

Heading into my final Birthright trip

         Why am I bringing this up now in this blog post? The reasons are twofold- first, I am currently working in the Old City and making many trips down to the Western Wall. When I make these pilgrimages on a Friday evening (or any day, really) I am inundated with hundreds of young, excited Americans who are here for (usually) the first time on Birthright. It warms my heart to see them writing their notes, singing whatever Jewish songs they know and taking "Kotel Selfies" with their friends as they experience the moving power of the Wall. I stand there and watch the boys putting on tefillin, often for the first time ever, and the girls draped in their shawls and maxi dresses, touching their fingers to the stones. I hear the conversations between them (I'm not eavesdropping, they're loud!) where they wonder who felt what, who cried, and how it all was. Every time I see a group I am transported to the many times I took my own groups to see the Wall for the first time, and the questions they would ask me. I mean, sure, them being there makes it take an extra 13 minutes to get into the Kotel Plaza and I have to dodge a million group photos, but seeing a fellow Jew make a lifelong Jewish memory is totally worth it.
       The second reason I bring Birthright up is because it reminds me about both how time goes so fast and so slowly simultaneously. Was it only twelve months ago that I still lived in NYC, was still a speech therapist at a public school in Queens, still celebrated shabbat and holidays with my immediate family and close friends? And here it is, just a year later, and basically nothing is the same. Not only do I not live in NYC, not only do I no longer practice speech therapy, but I have lived livessince then! I have made aliyah, done a full ulpan, found an apartment, found a job, made new friends, been back to visit NYC -all before even a full year has passed. It's incredible to think how many things can happen in just one year. 
        Now when I see Birthrights, it's with the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia. It's realizing that I went from being one of them, an American Jew, to this whole other person- an Israeli. We no longer share the same backstory, the same hometown and the same daily experience. And while I may understand where they're coming from, and speak their language, and be able to relate to this trip they're on- something has indelibly shifted. When I see them, I think about how in ten days, their time here will be over. They may extend a while, they may come back to visit, but by and large, they will go back to America, just like I did twelve times. But now I am retired from the Birthright game. And now I don't have to get on the plane to go back home- because I already am home.

Jordana in Jamaica Estates (Part 2)

       Welcome back to NYC- or rather, my reflections of my time in NYC coming at you from a booth at a coffee shop in the Moscow airport. 

I call this look "Blending In"

Where were we? Ah, yes- after a week of preparation for Passover and seeing some great friends, my family packed up to leave for our Pesach program, which was to be held in a mansion/hotel on Long Island. The program will henceforth be known as “Pesach-For-Less,” as it is both the actual name of the program, as well as the essence of the program. My whole life my family went to a hotel in the Catskills called the Granit (and then the Hudson Valley Resort.) This was Pesach for me- I didn’t even know Pesach could exist outside Kerhonkson, New York. Then a few years ago, we began to stay home. To say I hated this new arrangement is an understatement. So much so that I would find a way to spend a few days at the Granit by myself, and hang out with friends I knew who still went. Turns out, the only person who hated staying home more than me is my mom. So she found this program, and we hoped for the best. I mean, how bad could it be, right? We’d all be together and someone else would clean our rooms for Pesach and cook our food- seems awesome. Turns out Pesach For Less (PFL) isn’t just a name, it’s a lifestyle. While the location was lovely, the crowd was, shall we say, different from my family. We are a proudly Orthodox, American family, but we lean modern. My mom doesn’t cover her hair and my dad doesn’t wear a black hat. I might wear a knee-grazing skirt and flip-flops to the pool. This crowd did none of these things. They hailed from Brooklyn, Monsey and Lakewood- all lovely places, but certainly not my target demographic. Everyone was very nice, but I wasn’t motivated to socialize, which worked out great, since I was there to be with my family. My Bubby and Grandpa also joined us for the holiday, and my aunt, uncle and cousins came for the last 2 days.

        It was kind of weird to be away from Israel for such a special holiday. To this day, even with all the time I’ve spent in Israel, I’ve still never spent Pesach there! I got a lot of grief from a friend about leaving for the chag, “So will you actually have the nerve to sing ‘Next year in Jerusalem’ at your seder?” he taunted. When I reminded him that I live there full-time and he lives there never and still sings the same song, he did not back down and although I know he’s wrong, I am a bit irked. It actually has me thinking that I may have to spend next Pesach in Israel and find another time to visit the family in NYC. We’ll see. Holidays in Israel are one-day/one-Seder affairs, while outside Israel they are 2 days. This made my second day of the holiday confusing and weird. My rabbi told me I could do melacha (work/electricity stuff/what have you) only in private, with no one at all around. This was fun but awkward as I shared a room with my sister, and she is a napper. With her in the room, I basically just read, which is what I’d have done on the chag, so being Israeli wasn’t the perk I’d anticipated.

      Chol Hamoed at PFL was not all that exciting. Sure they had a pool and a tennis court, but the weather was atrocious and really, how many times can you swim in a 4-foot indoor pool? I spent most of my time outside the confines of the mansion, visiting friends and obviously, shopping (at this point, the addiction is kickin’.) The exception was Sunday, when my entire family spent the day together celebrating my grandfather’s Ninetieth Birthday! Since myself and 3 of my cousins live in Israel now, it was the first time the entire family was together in years! We all had lunch and cake together and then took a big family photo, which will no doubt be reused in perpetuity for years to come, as we are all featured. Two days later, I took my niece and nephews on a little trip to “Bounce!”, a play area essentially covered in trampolines and foam. Sounds super- fun, right? We made our reservation and headed over. To our shock and mostly dismay, every other Orthodox family in the tri-state area had the very same brilliant idea! The place was hopping (literally) with little kippa-topped kiddies as far as the eye could see. It made my little cuties extremely shy and apprehensive at first, staring at interminable lines of big kids waiting to jump. Luckily, the children have infinitely more tolerance for lines than their aunt, and as we left the day was deemed a huge success by the kiddos. And quite frankly, as long as they’re happy, I need to get over my own limited bouncing time!

         Pesach came and went without much more fanfare and I prepared for my last week in NYC, with no religious demands on my time, but tons of social demands. I know, good problems right? Basically, I would wake up and be out the door by nine every morning, only to return by eleven that night, exhausted and ready to do it all again the next day. As I used to do when I lived in the States, I lived in my car, catching up on my American radio (for those of you in Israel, it’s just “Uptown Funk”, the world’s most irritation song, on loop.) This would be my last hurrah with my car- as I’m not shipping it to Israel, and don’t want to make my family responsible for its upkeep for the once I year I use it. It’s now for sale (if you know anyone who wants a reliable Nissan Altima!) and that signifies just a bit more of my separation from America and ingratiation into Israel. I just got real deep describing selling my car, but I think you get it.

         After a week of seeing close friends, eating my favorite foods (I miss you already, Tuesday night sushi!) , taking in a Yankee game (and Yankee win!) with my dad, hitting a "friends of the IDF" event, and buying everything on sale in a twenty- mile radius, it was time for my last shabbat with my family. If you are my friend on Facebook, you know I love shabbat in Israel. Whether in Jerusalem or some other new and special Jewish neighborhood, I am blessed to experience shabbat in the Holy Land with holy people who also love and appreciate shabbat the way I do. All that said, there is nothing I connect with quite like hearing my father’s kiddush and havdalah, eating my mother’s chulent and chatting with my little sister at the shabbat table. My parents even made a kiddush with all their close friends who treat me like family. It was the perfect way to spend my last shabbat in America- in the incredible neighborhood where I grew up with the people I love most.

        One last- stop trip to Target (I had to!) and I was back in the airport, experiencing the utter joy that is international flying at JFK (insert extreme sarcasm emoji here). My flight here to Moscow actually featured 2 older Russian ladies who were probably the rudest humans I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet. They scream-spoke the entire flight (minus the hour they blessedly slept) and when I had the nerve to ask them to quiet down, not only didn’t they, but they yelled at me! I’m not ashamed to say I hope their ride home was bumpy, their borscht was spoiled and their fur hats were stolen! Anyway, next post will be back from Jerusalem, so until then- dasvedanya and paka!

It's Springtime in Moscow!

Jordana in Jamaica Estates (Part 1)

Privet from Moscow! I am currently sitting in a booth in a Russian airport, in the midst of an 8- hour layover from NYC to Tel Aviv. And why, you might ask, did I choose to take this very scenic and unbelievably circuitous route back home, after spending 3 delightful weeks with my family in New York? Because the fare was so low, you actually feel like this airline is doing you a favor. Yet once you actually take the flights, you realize the trek is so long, and flying so thoroughly uncomfortable, that you seriously reconsider ever doing it again.

           Since the whole experience of going back to America for the first time since aliyah is so intense, and since I did and saw so many things in my 3 weeks back Stateside, this post may actually turn into a 2- parter. But let me start at the very beginning, which I’m told is a very good place to start, and we’ll see how it goes.

          It was the week before Pesach/Passover, and I was finally taking that “trip back to the States” that I had booked way back in November and at the time seemed eons away. I chose this super-cheap flight via Aeroflot, and prepared for the worst. After all, online reviews had me thinking this was a pre-war era plane manned by KGB members with no indoor heating or cooling. And I was fine with all that, because the price was right. And who didn’t want to see the highly regarded Moscow airport (one of three in this city, I’m told) ? No one likes culture more than me, and I have a lot of great Russian friends, so what better way to connect to them than through spending 4 hours in their 3rd largest airport? Thankfully, the flights were totally fine- personal screens and all! And the airport even officially had wi-fi! Not wi-fi that actually connected you to the internet, more the kind that showed up on your phone as full service, but kept your screen loading indefinitely, you know the type. One of the fabulous things about traveling internationally as an Orthodox person is the wealth of kosher food options available to you worldwide. And by that I mean, there is nothing and you starve. It’s the main reason I am so well-traveled throughout the US, and so poorly traveled everywhere else. I refuse to stuff my suitcases with granola bars and microwave meals. I have way too many pairs of shoes for that nonsense. So I prepared in advance, and stocked up on Bissli, Bamba and Pesek Zman chocolate in Ben Gurion Airport in anticipation for the fast. I didn’t just want to be Israeli in that Moscow airport- I wanted to shout it out through my snack choices.

          I’ll fast-forward through the travel, because I could probably explicate on that for ages. One exciting element of traveling is that it was my first time ever doing so as a dual-citizen. This meant that I showed the Israeli agents my Teudat Ma’avar (temporary travel visa- you get a passport a full year after aliyah) as well as my American passport. Although, if I’m being honest, I’ve been using my American passport almost everywhere else. It’s just so much faster and I got things to do!

So excited to be a dual- citizen!

So I finally get out at JFK, locate my bags (which I have an irrational certainty will be lost or stolen off the carousel every single time I fly) and reunite with my all-time best friend- my dad. He takes me to my family home where I hug my mom, my sister and my car- in that exact order. We then go to dinner with my other sister and her family, which include my 2 nephews and my niece. It is at this dinner, where I am sitting with the people that I love most on earth, some of whom don’t ever and will never be able to visit Israel, that I get super-emotional. I am lucky that I have a real sense of certainty in my decision to make aliyah. While I’m in Israel, I never question if my move was the right one- I know it is. I walk around smiling all day, and feel unendingly blessed to “live the dream” as they say. But at that table, with my niece and nephew on my lap, joking around with my immediate family just like it’s any other time, it is at the same time totally normal and completely surreal. And I allow myself a millisecond to think- how can I be without these people every day? How can I have made the decision to move across the globe alone, while my heart and soul are here? I will have this feeling a few more times over the next 3 weeks, but these are fleeting thoughts, and they do not last long.
                The next day I make my long-awaited return to the mall. I have mentioned in other posts that back in the States, I was an avid and skilled shopper. Since moving to Israel, my interest in shopping has waned, both due to the lack of stores and styles I like as well as the exorbitant prices for clothes here. I may pick something up once in a while, but my “shopping addiction” has definitely been cured by the Holy Land. Add that to the theory that I began developing this past trip- Americans are much more attached to buying. Now, before you Americans get all indignant, hear me out. You live in a place where malls are huge and everywhere, every third week is a blowout sale, and every item imaginable is available, both in- store or at your doorstep via the internet. In Israel, the most popular mall in the country, Malcha Mall in Jerusalem (you can look it up, Israelis, it’s true) would fit in my mall’s east wing. In the States you have the affordable shipping (or free shipping!) available online, the clearance sales and the outlet malls. You have a Target and an Amazing Savings for crazy value. And you have a car to shlep it all home with. It makes for a very comfortable shopping experience. In Israel, I have to agonize over buying one item, already marked down, and carve out a time to go pick it up and get it back home. It’s a production, so I don’t do it all that often. In case you were wondering, a shopping addiction can be cured, but it never goes away. Just going back into that mall with my mom was crazy- so many stores and everything on sale (obviously, because it was pre-Easter, post winter-whatever.) I rationalized everything by saying I was getting ready for Pesach and stocking up for Israel, but in reality, I was probably just relapsing hard core, and there was no stopping me. How is everything so cheap?

              Later that evening, I headed to Manhattan. I know that people who don’t live in New York (and many who do) are dazzled by Manhattan, but I’m over it. It’s fast and loud and crowded and (in my opinion) overrated. The subways are a hassle and driving is a nightmare and parking is impossible. All that said, I went in for a special reason- I had organized happy-hour drinks for some friends at a great bar where my friend works. He set aside a section and even made a special menu of drinks for my guests.

Interestingly, the Bar-Lev is a drink that has nothing to do with me being Israeli

It was the perfect way to see a whole bunch of friends I adore in one place at the same time. As friends walked in throughout the evening, one face after another made me light up. I realized again how much I love the people I had to leave.

            Coming back is a lot of the same conversation, many times a day, for 3 weeks. Where do I live, what do I do, who do I hang out with and how is it all (it seems as if people are not keeping up with Jordana in Jerusalem as diligently as I hoped)? I must have answered those questions a hundred or more times over these past 3 weeks, but I didn’t mind (that much) because those would be the same questions I’d ask them if the roles were reversed. And it’s always a beautiful thing to be able to talk about how much I love Israel and the new life I’m building there. I think if I didn’t feel so secure in my decision to make aliyah, these questions would stress me out, but it’s awesome and empowering to get to say “I love it every day,” and mean it. Oy, this is getting long. Okay, more to come in Part 2- see you then! Dasvedanya!