Two years. Twenty-four months, 104 weeks, 731 days (2016 was a Leap Year) etc etc. Tomorrow will be 2 full years since I stepped off that plane, into Ben Gurion airport to start the next and hopefully best chapter of my life.
I just reread my post for last year's Aliyah anniversary- boy, that Jordana was cute! Brimming with life changes and accomplishments, overcoming small challenges of bureaucracy and moving furniture- I envy her. Not that this past year wasn't great- quite the contrary, my Aliyah continues to be the best decision I've ever made. But when you make a huge life decision (moving, getting married, having kids- so I'm told!) there are peaks and valleys. And this year came with higher peaks and lower valleys than I could have imagined in my first year. To gloss over the bad would be allowing this blog to become inauthentic. I strive to make anyone who reads it understand that although I believe aliyah is for (almost) all Jews, I understand that there will be complications and sad times. So I will be straight up with some of my struggles here. I still have not found the job for me. I have not found that magical equation of: I enjoy it+ I am good at it +I am challenged by it= it pays me enough to live. You might think these are super reasonable qualifications, you might think I'm asking too much (not to be confused with a conversation on "what are you looking for in a spouse?" which sounds interestingly quite similar to this.) Although I have blessedly been employed by wonderful companies and people for the entirety of this year, I am a bit at a loss for why the job for me eludes me. I thought I had it for about 5 minutes, only to realize it wasn't quite right and have to start from Square 1. If I had to pinpoint this year's lowest valley, without a doubt, it would be that setback. In fact, I write this as I am still trying to climb back up from that, so if this blog seems a little less than effervescent, it's probably just because you should not write a blog post in a state of flux. But what can I do?! My Aliyaversary is falling out smack in the middle of my time of flux- what a bassa!
I do remain hopeful and (weirdly) confident that a job that involves writing/marketing/politics/Jewish outreach/Israel advocacy/media will materialize, the powers-that-be will realize my talents and I will stay working there until I am a little old lady. It could happen, right? But until then, I remain positive- I have to! This is my home now. As I have mentioned several times- there is no "Plan B." There is no "going home"; I am home. I do not see myself ever living in America again (sorry, Mommy) so I will do whatever I must to make Israel the best home I could possibly ever have. "Ain Li Eretz Acheret- I have no other land." There is something terrifying and exhilarating about knowing that you have found your place in this world and no matter what, you will make it work.
There are fundamental differences between years 1 and 2 of my Aliyah journey. Liken it to the difference between starting a job and keeping that job fresh. The difference between starting to date someone and allowing that attraction to grow into something more. In practical terms: It's the difference between figuring out how to open a bank account and then how to bank efficiently on your Leumi app. If year one is finding a group of friends to go to a bar with, year 2 is growing those friendships into people you can trust with the real-life stuff. The first year is playing that "I'm new here" card when things get sticky and year 2 is "oh shoot! That card doesn't work as well, I guess I'll cut my teeth on Hebrew instead." Year 1 is waiting for friends and family to visit so you have a taste of home in your new city, while year 2 is playing tour guide for visiting friends and family, so you can show them your home. Year 1 is finding a place to live, a job and a favorite brunch spot; year 2 is paying full municipal taxes on that apartment, finding a new job (or 2- for me!) and making that brunch spot your Friday destination after a hard week of work. The luster and excitement that comes with everything new and shiny in your first year is followed by a tangible shift toward comfort and contentment. It's when you can feel your infatuation toward Israel becoming a real love of Israel.
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| Some scenes from Year 2 |
I used to teach classes for an outreach program and one of the questions we asked was "What's the difference between infatuation and love?" And the answer we gave was this- "when you love everything about that person/place/thing- everything they do and say is perfect- that's infatuation. When you can see the bad in that person/place/thing- when you are aware of his flaws and shortcomings, in addition to his good qualities- that is love!" So last year I was the conductor of that infatuation train. I had to be! There was a war, I was living in the fantasy-land of Ulpan, I was just getting my feet wet in Israeli society- everything was heightened and important (and I had a heck of a lot more to blog about!) This year, I was dealing with the mundane- paying bills, socializing (although now in Tel Aviv a lot more, go figure!) and working every day. Although I broke that up by traveling, and a trip to the States, life here went from aliyah fantasy to Israeli reality, without my even noticing it.
I know more seasoned Olim will see this and scoff "It's only been 2 years, Jords. Relax. Come back to me in 10 years." And I intend to! And I know each year will bring its own victories, its own epiphanies and, realistically, its own failures. But the same would be true if I were back in New York, or living in London, or Timbuktu! The difference here is that I have the motivation to make this life I create here the greatest possible life I can have on earth. Because nothing beats the fact that I am living in the Jewish state and the truest home I have ever known. Nothing beats the fact that I know that with all the hardships and loneliness, anxiety and stress- I have finally ended up in the place I am meant to be. So hopefully next year when I recap Aliyah Year 3, there will be less lows, higher highs and the same certainty that Aliyah was the greatest choice I've ever made.
Next year in Jerusalem! (or maybe Tel Aviv? Who knows!) Stay tuned...
I just ended the longest period of not working in my adult life. Sure, I was in ulpan, and then I had a part-time gig event planning, and my blog is always a legitimate time-consumer. But since my high school days, I've always had some sort of consistent employment. I started as my one of my neighborhood's most in-demand babysitters, then I was a youth leader, a counselor every summer, I tutored, I balanced books at my dad's warehouse, worked at my synagogue, and taught Hebrew school- all before I ever started working "for real." Then I had a bunch of years as a speech therapist, all while spending all my breaks leading Aish or Birthright trips. And I LOVED it!
I'm not someone who sits and chills. On vacation, I'm doing things! I'm riding the Segway to the museum right before the night's music festival. I'm rarely the one up at 1 PM to just sit on the beach for hours. So you can imagine my distress at an untold number of days, weeks, months (years?!) where I wasn't sure what I'd do for employment!
One of the first things I did (once my Aliyah benefits ended) was file for unemployment. Lest you think this is a viable alternative to working, I will have you know, I jumped through many, many hoops to collect what I can only describe as "not enough to live on." But hey, any little bit helps and I am glad the government was there to help a sista out!
And wouldn't ya know it, that was to be my one and only unemployment check! Whilst interviewing for a number of great jobs (in my general field of interest and skill), I had a chance meeting with someone who worked in the EXACT field where I feel most passionate- Israeli advocacy. If you couldn't tell thus far, I'm truly in love with Israel and I just want others to see the beautiful country I do. So here is this opportunity to teach young North American Jews how to advocate for Israel, on their campuses and online. The tide of anti-Israel propaganda right now is a full-on tsunami. Most supporters of Israel just don't have the tools or the fortitude, or even the network to speak up on Israel's behalf. There is a wealth of information to utilize, but they need a direction with which to channel it all.
That's where we come in. We put together a six-week internship where participants learn the tools they need to advocate, learn video technique, travel around this amazing country and delve into their Jewish culture- it hits all the spots I love! (SHAMELESS PLUG- check out videoactivism.tv to see what I'm talking about!)
So that's where I am right now. I'd like to thank everyone who helped me and worried about me. Everyone who forwarded my resumé and gave me recommendations. Everyone who listened to me kvetch and prayed for me to FINALLY find something to do. Everything helped, and people are really good. And if you need me, I'm currently located in the heart of the Old City, overlooking the hills of Jerusalem, feeling lucky to be here every day!
This past Friday night I was invited to post- Shabbat- dinner drinks at a new friend's apartment. It was a lovely evening, and at the end, a toast was raised to an attendee who was moving back to his home country after living in Israel for work for 2 years. As we wished him well on his return to his native land, the common refrain from the largely Anglo group was "You're so lucky to be going back!" and "Wish I could do the same!" I stared around at the room, absolutely gobsmacked. Not one to be shy with my thoughts, I wondered aloud; "Are you guys still American citizens? Have you renounced your citizenship? Are you native Israelis? Why don't you just go back, too?" I didn't understand why, if leaving Israel was a desired and plausible option, everyone was still here!
The responses came from all sides, "How long have you been here?," they wondered. I responded with, "I've been here since July 1, and I finished ulpan December 15th." This response elicited knowing looks between those involved, as if to say, "Soon you'll learn." I was confused. All this time I had been hearing that the transition to Israeli life was most difficult at the beginning. It was hard to leave family and friends, difficult to find a job, a pain to navigate bureaucracy. And now, here I was hearing the exact opposite. That this was my honeymoon phase, where every day was rosy and Israel could do no wrong.
So which is it? Walking home, I thought about each perspective. On the one hand, I was very much honeymooning. I came to Israel on a wave of intense Zionism, buttressed by a long, thought- out aliyah process and many years of living in New York behind me. I knew that this was the life I wanted, smooth sailing or not. So I made a conscious decision not to "sweat the small stuff." This stuff currently includes making a doctor's appointment, ("We will have that doctor available in 2 weeks" Hope I last that long!) a broken couch ("Someone will be by to fix your couch in 24 days (!!!)" Is this real life? Three weeks on a broken couch?!) and finding a job ("We will let you know about continuing the interview process next Thursday" Oh, cool, I'll just wait here on this broken couch, then.) And even though these frustrations would never exist back in the States, I signed up for them. I signed up for poor customer service and socialized medicine, offices closing for 5 days for no reason and a reasonable wage of 5 dollars an hour. Nothing is really freaking me out too bad just yet.
It makes me nervous to think that all this positivity and confidence I have in my life here might have an expiration date. It frightens me to think that maybe in a year, maybe two, I'll be sitting across from some new oleh from New York City, she all bright- eyed and bushy- tailed, and I will express a desire to move "back home" to NYC. When I left New York, I had never made a more cautious and well- thought- out decision in my life. I went to informational seminars and had Skype meetings. I asked millions of questions and interviewed extensively. I was no recent high school graduate burning to start my life in Israel (not that those olim are not impressive, maybe even more so.) I was a woman with a Master's degree and years of work experience, and entire family nearby and more friends than I deserved, yearning to make Israel my forever home. I made the decision with a full heart and yet this conversation has stuck with me.
It's hard to say what will happen. It's hard to know how I'll feel living here single for a while, or newly married, or starting a family, or in a job I hate, or dealing with a lifetime of bad customer service and endless bureaucracy. And I won't know if that's reality and what I'm feeling now is just a honeymoon phase. But I do know that this is where I want to be. And I hope, that if in a few years I feel the itch to leave, to go back to where things were comfortable and easy, I look at this blog post and remember how I felt in this phase of my life, where Israel was the only place I ever wanted to be and nothing could ever change it- my Israeli honeymoon phase.
I know this post's title is misleading. It makes you think that there's going to be something juicy or emotional in here, and I apologize for that, but bear with me. Maybe one day I'll blog about my social life (unlikely), but this is not that day. This is about another stressful and pressing issue- the fact that I am currently unemployed. Now, if you were to ask me how aliyah is going, I will always be positive. The move has been great, almost seamless. I love this city, my friends, my apartment. I have never felt more at home or more sure of any major decision I've ever made. The only dark cloud hovering over my perpetually sunny, aliyah day is the fact that I am a month and a half out of ulpan, and I haven't yet found gainful full-time employment. I am still enjoying the few hours a week that I assist the best event planner in Israel, but I need a job, my friends. A real life, full-time, paying- the- bills, up at seven, home after nightfall job. See, I have been working in some capacity or another since I'm twelve. I babysat, tutored, taught Hebrew school, and balanced books. I have been a counselor, a youth leader, and a madricha for almost every Jew in the tri-state area. And all of that was before I finished my Master's in Speech Pathology and worked in various schools all over Queens for the better part of seven years! This whole "not working" thing is kind of freaking me out.
So you must all be wondering (and by all, I mean my mother and other assorted concerned adults) "Jordana, why don't you just continue to pursue speech therapy in Israel?" The answer to that is four-fold (as you can see, I've answered this a lot.) One, you have to take a qualifying exam in Hebrew to work here in an agency/school system. At this point, I don't think I could pass this exam in English, as it's been a million years since I graduated and I'm a bit fuzzy on oral musculature and sensorineural hearing loss these days. Second, on the crazy chance that I passed said exam, I'd then have to see clients, plan lessons, do paperwork and meet with parents in Hebrew! As proud as I am with my budding Hebrew skills, that's a truly daunting thought. Third, and I'm being honest, is that the pay here for speech therapy is okay, but certainly not good. I have a friend who works for a kupa (agency) who says she basically makes enough to cover her babysitter. I think most speech therapists in the US will tell you that the pay and the hours are a strong factor in choosing a career as an SLP. This is not really as much of a factor here. But I think the biggest reason for me is that, with all these barriers, if I really loved being a speech therapist, I'd do it here too. But I never did. When you choose a career path at eighteen, you have a certain life-plan in mind, one that includes a husband and kids in the near future and requires a nicely- paid, flexible job. So you choose speech and you work in it, and you enjoy it, but then your life isn't necessarily exactly what you envisioned. You don't need that family-life flexibility and pay as a single girl.
Making aliyah was the fulfillment of several dreams. One was to live in the Jewish homeland and hopefully raise my own family here. Another was to find a job in an area in which I am passionate and talented, to feel a sense of fulfillment in my job. This is not to say I wasn't fulfilled helping kids learn to better communicate; it was just never my passion. It's just being honest about who I am as a person, and using my skills in a different way.
For years, I worked on a volunteer basis in the worlds of Jewish and Israeli advocacy. I love meeting and working with Jews and Israel advocates and I knew by coming to Israel, that's where I saw my path leading. Okay, great! So now that I had a direction, how do I go about getting a job? I had a two-pronged system. One was what Israelis call protekzia, or connections. This is where I'd tap into the thousand people I know in the Jewish world, add that to the two thousand people my mom and dad know, the ten thousand my synagogue friends know, and the other various people I'd randomly meet though an awkward and unnatural phenomenon known as networking. As part of this plan, I was advised to join LinkedIn, a social media platform which is essentially putting your resume in a questionnaire format and then forging a "connection" with every human who looks vaguely familiar to you on the site. Apparently, they don't have to be your friends, just someone who's name you recognize next to their picture. I joined this website, and being the absolute Jewish- geography superstar that I am, got to connecting! "But now what?" I thought. I have sent my resume to every person I've ever met who possibly knows anyone in the Jewish organizational world, my dad is basically accosting everyone in shul about a job for me, and my million amazing connections in different organizations are coming up empty! What do I do?
That is where the second prong comes in- good old fashion job searching and applying. When I was planning my move here, Nefesh B'Nefesh helped me a lot. Then, in December, they sent me an email asking how my job search was going at the wrong time. I responded with a strongly worded email saying, basically, "Not great, you gonna help me or what?" And guess what? They did! They sent me this great little dynamo, Melissa, who revamped my intensely outdated resume (eight years in speech, remember?) and showed me all the places I should be looking. She also, bless her, started sending out my resume herself to jobs she thought might be appropriate for me. As appreciative as I am for this, it sometimes leads me to interviews where I have literally no idea about the job for which I'm applying. "Ohhh, you're looking for a part-time office assistant? Okayyyy, cool." But I put on a brave face and try and get that office assistant job! Not that I want the job, I just want to get the job, you know? But this isn't the time to get into my competitiveness issues. Moving on to interviewing in Israel.
I know the job market here in this country. I am not in high-tech and I am not an engineer. I have not created an app, and I am not a radiologist in NYC who commutes back and forth. I am not a real-estate magnate and I do not own a sports team. I will never be wealthy in this country. That is not the goal. The goal is to make enough money to afford my rent, go out on Thursday nights with friends and maybe buy a ticket back to the States once a year. I'm a simple girl. But apparently, based on the current salary base in this country, I am aiming too high. Essentially, this is what you're dealing with (paraphrased): "Hello, Jordana! So great to meet you. Let me tell you what we're looking for here at ABC Organization. We're going to need you to direct our social media and digital marketing campaigns, take care of our English correspondence, plan our events, take care of all our logistics, produce our newsletter, maintain and grow our donor relationships, do some light office work, write and edit our website content...(10 minutes pass) and we're looking for Sunday-Thursday, 8AM to 5PM but obviously more when the need arises. Now the pay is going to be low, but it's such a great work environment and you will really get a lot out of this." Then they quote you a number so low that even if it were dollars you'd freak out for the sheer amount you need to accomplish to earn said salary, and your mouth is agape. And here is the kicker! You are one of ten applicants (at least!) for this job! There are nine other girls (I don't see many guys in the waiting areas with me) who are fine selling their lives to these organizations for peanuts. So you suddenly feel like you need this job, you must have this job! It is a stressful environment, especially for someone like me, who knows what they need to accomplish in life and how to do it, but has no way of actualizing it. Melissa from NBN said to me, "Finding a job is a full-time job," but I don't want this job! I want to make the lives of Jews better, I want to improve the lives of Israelis, I want to make a significant difference in this country I love with the people I love, and I am hitting the proverbial wall.
So that's where I am, currently. I appreciate you taking the time to let me vent, and I hope I made you laugh a little. It's really not that dramatic, and most of the time, it' a great learning experience. And even with all the hassle, the financial stress and the dramatics, I wouldn't go back to a cushy life in NYC for the world. Israel is the only place I want to be, warts and all.
To leave off on a positive note, I know this is temporary. It was a little nuts that my aliyah was going so smoothly, and I had to be aware that some bumps were bound to show up on the road. So I will keep sending out my resume, keep networking and keep interviewing. And hopefully, in the not-so-distant future, I will look back at this post and think "Wow, what a stressful time! Glad that's over!" Wish me luck, and if you want, connect with me on LinkedIn! Let's network!
