Aliyahversary, the Second!

        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.

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...

The Floating Head at the Engagement Party

               Yesterday I attended my sister's engagement party. "How did you do this?" you ask. It's a valid question. My family lives in Queens, NY, some 6,000 miles away from my dorm room in Jerusalem. Through the wonders of modern technology, I was able to "attend" the party in a few different ways. First, I was sent numerous pictures of all the various decorations and party treats via Whatsapp and iMessage. Then, I was "tagged" in photos by actual, physical attendees, so I was able to see who was there and what they wore. Last, my father graciously "Skyped" with me at different junctures (before the party, during and wrapping up), so I was able to interact with guests and get a feel for the vibe and the action. This is how I came to be a "floating head" being passed around my sister's engagement party. I can only imagine what it was like in my grandfather's time, how absurd the idea of participating in a party happening on another continent would seem. I can imagine him in his tenement house, shaving ice off a block and into a class of cola, seeing only who was in his line of vision. Here I am, 70 years later, a yelping presence in a tiny box on an iPhone screen yelling "Grandpa! I like your haircut!" Unreal.
               While this was a major event for my family, for me it was even more huge. It was the "first family event I missed due to aliyah." The first in a seemingly endless stretch of engagement parties, bridal showers, wedding and bar mitzvahs to which I will have to respond "no", not because I'm busy, or because I'm not interested in going, but because there is this huge ocean in between myself and those I love most. While I definitely have a nice number of friends and family here in the Holy Land, I would guess that 95% of my social and familial worlds live in the US. That, my friends, is a lot of missed happy occasions. Last week I got a shower invitation for a girl whom I absolutely adore. She and I have been friends, and what's more single friends, for ages. Her simcha truly makes me ecstatic. And yet I will have to miss her special day (and undoubtedly a fabulous party) because I chose to "live the dream." It definitely stings. 
               This isn't to say that I regret my decision to be here, even for a second. I always knew that one of the toughest parts about living over here is that time "back home" would not freeze for me. No one would hold off getting engaged or having babies until my yearly trips back to the States. But knowing and experiencing are two very different things, I have learned. And so I will continue to be that floating head at parties, shouting "mazel tovs" and blowing kisses to the people at parties on the other side of the ocean. Until the day I can attend those parties as a hologram.