Quick Friday Post
Nothing dramatic to report.
I've been pitching various stories to some pretty "big budget" publications. The way freelance journalism works is that the amount I'm paid depends entirely on the budget of the publication hiring me. I can do the same amount of research and write the same number of words at the same level of talent for two different magazines or newspapers, and get paid four times as much (or more) by one as by the other.
For the few years I've been in the business, I've been sort of coasting along, writing mostly for the same clients, and getting paid enough to pay my bills -- sort of. I've decided that it's more worth my time to start pitching to the better-paying magazines, even if it means fewer assignments, than to keep spending all my time on the medium-budget stuff. (Don't worry, Jewish Week and World Jewish Digest, I still love you.)
I've been dreaming of getting into travel journalism (haven't we all . . . ). This week the editor of a chi-chi travel magazine told me that she wouldn't "rule out" publishing something about Israel, but I shouldn't get my hopes up because it's not a "high image" destination (ie, it's not on the same level as, say, Barbados or Tuscany). Clearly the efforts by the Ministry of Tourism to promote Eilat and Tel Aviv as exotic vacation locales have gone only so far.
Speaking of exotic locales, my roommate has left to go on a vacation with her family to the British Virgin Islands. Lucky duck. It is therefore quite lonely here, and I'm going to starve to death because Liza is the cook around here (I can cook, but she does cook). However, her room is free, so a former roommate will be staying here for a few days, and two of my little charedi cousins will be coming for a sleepover. (Yes, I have permission from Liza to use her room for guests.)
My Shabbat plans: Dinner tonight at Rachel, Gila and Estee's. Lunch at my place tomorrow with Yael. We have leftover coconut milk so I'm trying this recipe. It's simmering on the stove as I write this. Smells good. I just realized that I'll have to leave the sauce on the blech overnight - good thing there's a lot of it. Whatever. It's hard to ruin chicken.
Have a shabbat shalom!
Friday, August 08, 2008
Thursday, August 07, 2008
So Where are My Spidey Powers?
Your results:
You are Spider-Man
Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...
(Hat tip: Ronit)
Your results:
You are Spider-Man
| You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.  |
Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...
(Hat tip: Ronit)
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Bizarre
So yesterday I'm hanging out in my apartment, trying to get some work done on the computer while simultaneously cleaning the bathroom (not an easy task, I assure you, which may explain why I was successful on neither count), and acting as an intermediary between my roommmate and some good friends who were generously offering to take in "Sparky" for a few days, when the phone rings and it is not about Sparky -- it's the police.
Police: Is this Sarah?
CS: Yes
Police: This is Yiftach from the police department. Did you lose a credit card?
CS: I don't think so. Let me check my wallet.
[checks wallet]
CS: No, they are all here . . . but a few months ago my bag was stolen, with my wallet inside.
Police: Was there a credit card in it?
CS: Yes, a few of them in fact. Why?
Police: We found someone trying to use your card.
CS: What?
Police: We have detained someone, who had your card on him. He was trying to use it.
CS: Wow! I can't believe it. It was stolen so long ago.
Police: Well, ma'am, we're the police. It's our job. Can you come in?
CS: Um, OK. Um. When's the latest I can come?
Police: Well, we'd like you to come now.
CS: Um. . . . well, OK then, I'll be there in an hour.
So I trekked to the police headquarters at the Russian Compound, and watched them load handcuffed prisoners onto a bus in the parking lot until someone from Yiftach's department came to fetch me and show me where to go, and I was ushered into a tiny office where four older and surprisingly jocular Israeli men had their desks. I was shown the card and asked to identify it. They also showed me a little slip of paper with numbers on it, and asked if this was the PIN for my card -- which it wasn't.
From the pile of sealed envelopes on the investigator's desk, and the questions they asked, it appeared to me that they caught someone with about 8 credit cards on him, belonging to other people. He probably tried to convince them that he had permission from all these folks to use the cards, and when they asked him to prove it by providing the PIN numbers, he bluffed his way through and wrote something down.
Anyhow, I am very proud of myself because I got through all of this entirely in Hebrew. The investigator, though, typed up my written statement for me, with my input, and I just checked the printed version for accuracy and signed it.
P.S. Update on Sparky here.
So yesterday I'm hanging out in my apartment, trying to get some work done on the computer while simultaneously cleaning the bathroom (not an easy task, I assure you, which may explain why I was successful on neither count), and acting as an intermediary between my roommmate and some good friends who were generously offering to take in "Sparky" for a few days, when the phone rings and it is not about Sparky -- it's the police.
Police: Is this Sarah?
CS: Yes
Police: This is Yiftach from the police department. Did you lose a credit card?
CS: I don't think so. Let me check my wallet.
[checks wallet]
CS: No, they are all here . . . but a few months ago my bag was stolen, with my wallet inside.
Police: Was there a credit card in it?
CS: Yes, a few of them in fact. Why?
Police: We found someone trying to use your card.
CS: What?
Police: We have detained someone, who had your card on him. He was trying to use it.
CS: Wow! I can't believe it. It was stolen so long ago.
Police: Well, ma'am, we're the police. It's our job. Can you come in?
CS: Um, OK. Um. When's the latest I can come?
Police: Well, we'd like you to come now.
CS: Um. . . . well, OK then, I'll be there in an hour.
So I trekked to the police headquarters at the Russian Compound, and watched them load handcuffed prisoners onto a bus in the parking lot until someone from Yiftach's department came to fetch me and show me where to go, and I was ushered into a tiny office where four older and surprisingly jocular Israeli men had their desks. I was shown the card and asked to identify it. They also showed me a little slip of paper with numbers on it, and asked if this was the PIN for my card -- which it wasn't.
From the pile of sealed envelopes on the investigator's desk, and the questions they asked, it appeared to me that they caught someone with about 8 credit cards on him, belonging to other people. He probably tried to convince them that he had permission from all these folks to use the cards, and when they asked him to prove it by providing the PIN numbers, he bluffed his way through and wrote something down.
Anyhow, I am very proud of myself because I got through all of this entirely in Hebrew. The investigator, though, typed up my written statement for me, with my input, and I just checked the printed version for accuracy and signed it.
P.S. Update on Sparky here.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Please Don't
At the point when Israel traded vile murderer Samir Kuntar for the remains of Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, I wasn't blogging so much, so I sort of "missed it" in blogging terms.
But I want you all to turn your attention to (and join) a nifty Facebook group, started by an acquaintance of mine:
If I die on miluim [reserve duty] please don't trade my body for a live terrorist.
'Nuff said.
At the point when Israel traded vile murderer Samir Kuntar for the remains of Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, I wasn't blogging so much, so I sort of "missed it" in blogging terms.
But I want you all to turn your attention to (and join) a nifty Facebook group, started by an acquaintance of mine:
If I die on miluim [reserve duty] please don't trade my body for a live terrorist.
'Nuff said.
Monday, August 04, 2008
While I Was Blogging . . .
Here is what my roommate has been dealing with (and, vicariously, me too). She is a seriously generous and caring person. I hope she is earning major heavenly brownie points for this!
Thanks to Rachel M. for driving me to the hospital last night, so I could bring L. some stuff she needed.
Here is what my roommate has been dealing with (and, vicariously, me too). She is a seriously generous and caring person. I hope she is earning major heavenly brownie points for this!
Thanks to Rachel M. for driving me to the hospital last night, so I could bring L. some stuff she needed.
The Date That Will Never Be (Thank God)
To wrap up our discussion about the man in question, in the end I wrote him an email saying that
a) I can tell from the way he worded his questions that he really wants a wife who will stay home full-time and take care of the house. And I am pretty much 100 percent sure that I, personally, will need a few hours a day to work on my writing (and I am ALSO 100 percent sure that I'll be at least as nurturing and attentive and "good" of a mom as anyone else). Also, I pointed him to the fact that I state pretty explicitly in my online dating website profile (through which he contacted me) that I'm not particularly good at housewifery. (Yes, there is a difference between mothering and housewifery!) (This is not a secret about me, and I do not consider it a moral failing.)
b) his reasons for not staying in Jerusalem hotels "enter into a level of prejudice which makes me uncomfortable."
c) let's "call a spade a spade" and acknowledge that this won't go anywhere.
I won't burden you with the contents of his response, except to say that in trying to tell me how much I misunderstood his questions, he demonstrated that I'd been exactly right to nip this one in the bud.
A couple of points before we move on:
1 - The Importance of Context: I'm of two minds about the fact that he asked interview-like questions before we even spoke on the phone. On one hand, I don't like this business-like dating approach in the Orthodox community. On the other hand, if these are really make-or-break issues for him, then hey, we both just saved ourselves a lot of headache. Good deal for me, not getting emotionally involved with someone and then finding out that he's a male chauvinist bigot!
The problem is that many issues become less make-or-break when put into the context of a person's history and personality. For example, racism in my dates bothers me so much that until I overhauled my profile recently, I listed it as a disqualification in my profile. And as you can see, in the absence of any other information about this man, the fact that he showed himself to be that prejudiced was enough for me to end the deal, because anything I might learn about him afterward would be in the context of his being racist.
But let's say the issue hadn't come up, and we'd spoken, and met, and really hit it off. Let's say that we'd become really close, and that many weeks after meeting, in the course of an intimate conversation, it was revealed that he's petrified of Arabs and really can't stand them.
It would still bother me. But I'd have a chance to find out whether there were mitigating factors. For example, I'd be more understanding and forgiving if it turned out that he or someone he loved had been injured in a terrorist attack. I'd also be more forgiving if he knew that his view was black-and-white, and treated Arabs civilly even though it was hard for him. And even without any of the mitigating factors, if we'd been dating for a long time and I really cared about him, then maybe -- perhaps -- I'd be willing to accept his being racist as a flaw I could live with (I have a hard time picturing it, but never say never). Because his bigotry would be in the context of his being an otherwise good man whom I care about, and who cares about me.
That's the danger of bringing up some of these make-or-break things so early, before knowing someone. In relationships, context is everything.
2- The Value of "No" - Not long ago, I would have continued communicating with this person, because in a world where people give up on good guys (and good women) over stupid, picky little complaints that have nothing to do with having a good marriage, I'd been taught to give people the benefit of the doubt, allow myself to learn the "context" described above, and really give everyone a chance.
This is good advice up to a point. In some ways it becomes even better advice as one gets older, more jaded, and more bitter. It is so easy to say "no. Not this one. Next!"
But it is also important to remember that one reason older daters are often bitter is that we've been pressured to give chances to people who were wrong for us. How often have I been told "it's just one date" or "it's just dinner. How can it hurt?"
The truth is, spending dinner after dinner after dinner with the wrong people hurts a lot.
I'm not talking about dates with generally reasonable men who, for one reason or another, are not "for me" (or do not think I am for them). If the dating trail involved only good people who weren't an exact fit, but were an "almost," it would be a lot less painful. I've always appreciated meeting such people, and have remained on friendly terms with many of them.
I'm talking about excruciatingly wrong dates. Like, dates with men who make it very clear by the first date that they can't even imagine why a woman would prefer to spend time, any time, doing anything other than raising her children (which this guy communicated in a later email). I'm talking about the dates after which I come home and flop onto my bed and groan and wonder what I did to deserve this.
There comes a point after which a woman who says "no, I do not want this" is not being picky, or stubborn, or close-minded. She's just valuing her time and her emotional energy. There comes a point after which telling someone "it's just one date, how can it hurt" is cruel and unusual punishment.
When it comes to dating, yes, beggars can be choosers.
To wrap up our discussion about the man in question, in the end I wrote him an email saying that
a) I can tell from the way he worded his questions that he really wants a wife who will stay home full-time and take care of the house. And I am pretty much 100 percent sure that I, personally, will need a few hours a day to work on my writing (and I am ALSO 100 percent sure that I'll be at least as nurturing and attentive and "good" of a mom as anyone else). Also, I pointed him to the fact that I state pretty explicitly in my online dating website profile (through which he contacted me) that I'm not particularly good at housewifery. (Yes, there is a difference between mothering and housewifery!) (This is not a secret about me, and I do not consider it a moral failing.)
b) his reasons for not staying in Jerusalem hotels "enter into a level of prejudice which makes me uncomfortable."
c) let's "call a spade a spade" and acknowledge that this won't go anywhere.
I won't burden you with the contents of his response, except to say that in trying to tell me how much I misunderstood his questions, he demonstrated that I'd been exactly right to nip this one in the bud.
A couple of points before we move on:
1 - The Importance of Context: I'm of two minds about the fact that he asked interview-like questions before we even spoke on the phone. On one hand, I don't like this business-like dating approach in the Orthodox community. On the other hand, if these are really make-or-break issues for him, then hey, we both just saved ourselves a lot of headache. Good deal for me, not getting emotionally involved with someone and then finding out that he's a male chauvinist bigot!
The problem is that many issues become less make-or-break when put into the context of a person's history and personality. For example, racism in my dates bothers me so much that until I overhauled my profile recently, I listed it as a disqualification in my profile. And as you can see, in the absence of any other information about this man, the fact that he showed himself to be that prejudiced was enough for me to end the deal, because anything I might learn about him afterward would be in the context of his being racist.
But let's say the issue hadn't come up, and we'd spoken, and met, and really hit it off. Let's say that we'd become really close, and that many weeks after meeting, in the course of an intimate conversation, it was revealed that he's petrified of Arabs and really can't stand them.
It would still bother me. But I'd have a chance to find out whether there were mitigating factors. For example, I'd be more understanding and forgiving if it turned out that he or someone he loved had been injured in a terrorist attack. I'd also be more forgiving if he knew that his view was black-and-white, and treated Arabs civilly even though it was hard for him. And even without any of the mitigating factors, if we'd been dating for a long time and I really cared about him, then maybe -- perhaps -- I'd be willing to accept his being racist as a flaw I could live with (I have a hard time picturing it, but never say never). Because his bigotry would be in the context of his being an otherwise good man whom I care about, and who cares about me.
That's the danger of bringing up some of these make-or-break things so early, before knowing someone. In relationships, context is everything.
2- The Value of "No" - Not long ago, I would have continued communicating with this person, because in a world where people give up on good guys (and good women) over stupid, picky little complaints that have nothing to do with having a good marriage, I'd been taught to give people the benefit of the doubt, allow myself to learn the "context" described above, and really give everyone a chance.
This is good advice up to a point. In some ways it becomes even better advice as one gets older, more jaded, and more bitter. It is so easy to say "no. Not this one. Next!"
But it is also important to remember that one reason older daters are often bitter is that we've been pressured to give chances to people who were wrong for us. How often have I been told "it's just one date" or "it's just dinner. How can it hurt?"
The truth is, spending dinner after dinner after dinner with the wrong people hurts a lot.
I'm not talking about dates with generally reasonable men who, for one reason or another, are not "for me" (or do not think I am for them). If the dating trail involved only good people who weren't an exact fit, but were an "almost," it would be a lot less painful. I've always appreciated meeting such people, and have remained on friendly terms with many of them.
I'm talking about excruciatingly wrong dates. Like, dates with men who make it very clear by the first date that they can't even imagine why a woman would prefer to spend time, any time, doing anything other than raising her children (which this guy communicated in a later email). I'm talking about the dates after which I come home and flop onto my bed and groan and wonder what I did to deserve this.
There comes a point after which a woman who says "no, I do not want this" is not being picky, or stubborn, or close-minded. She's just valuing her time and her emotional energy. There comes a point after which telling someone "it's just one date, how can it hurt" is cruel and unusual punishment.
When it comes to dating, yes, beggars can be choosers.
Friday, August 01, 2008
On the Arab Man Serving Scrambled Eggs at the Breakfast Buffet
Thanks so much to everyone who commented on my last post.
I think I’ll have to tackle this piece by piece.
Regarding “Part I,” and the question of staying in hotels where lots of Arabs work, the most fascinating aspect of the issue is that every single person who actually lives in Jerusalem, both among blog readers and friends – all but one of whom self-labels as “right wing” or “center-right” – believes that it is ludicrous to let the presence of Arabs deter someone from staying in a good hotel in the holiest city in the world. The only people in my extremely informal survey who sympathized with this guy’s racism are people who live outside of the city.
I think it stands to reason that those of us who actually encounter Arabs every day, even if only in service situation and at the mall, understand that the likelihood of being blown up, poisoned, or given the evil eye by any one particular Arab person is extremely low. Yes, the city is very segregated, but we encounter Arabs every day. In my particular neighborhood, they prepare our food, they drive our taxis, they stock our supermarket shelves. And it is obvious to anyone who is exposed to this on a consistent basis that the vast majority of these Arabs are just there to do their job, get paid, and go home. They are no more interested in actually hurting anyone than they are in endangering their employment or, really, doing anything other than living their lives and paying their rent.
Of course there is also
I “get” why people are afraid of Arabs. And even in the absence of fear, I “get” being uncomfortable around them, because I often am too – not because I assume that this particular Arab will try to kill me, but because it is always uncomfortable to be around people who are different from you, even under the best of circumstances. In my college dining hall (in the United States), it was typical for Jewish students to sit together, for black students to sit together, for a group of Muslim girls to share a table, etc, because it is always easier to surround oneself with others just alike. And here in
But people have to live their lives. If Jerusalemites let their suspicion, fear, and hatred get in the way of their activities, they would have to shut themselves into their homes and never enjoy what this amazing city has to offer.
Besides which, taking one’s general fear of war and killing and transposing it onto the bellhop is not savviness, it’s just racist. And, frankly, for an Orthodox person to not stay in
I may have been willing to overlook it – maybe, but with hesitation – had it not been for “Part II.”
More about that next week, along, I hope, with a post on "Why Asher's comment is spot on" and "Why the value of supporting one's fellow Jew takes on different nuances in a country where Jews are the majority."
Thanks to all my readers for your attention and good vibes!
Shabbat shalom.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Pulling a Treppenwitz
I'm going to borrow a blogging technique I learned from a favorite blogger friend: I will tell you something that happened to me, and ask how you would handle the situation. Tomorrow I'll tell you how I handled it.
Imagine, for a moment, that you are a 35-year-old single woman, and an age-appropriate, decent looking man with a good-enough profile (seems nice enough, is educated and employed, nothing blatantly wrong) contacts you. You exchange a few emails and agree to meet the next time he comes to Israel.
**
PART I:
In the course of these exchanges, he mentions that in his trips to the holy land, he stays in a certain town quite a distance away from you (details withheld to protect the innocent) rather than in Jerusalem (where most Orthodox tourists usually base themselves, unless there is a specific reason to be somewhere else). You ask why.
Among other reasons, including knowing people in Town X, he says
What is your reaction?
I'm interested in hearing what my readers think about this, and am conducting a bit of an experiment. Please share your opinion in the comments, and please include where you live and how you would "label" yourself politically vis-a-vis Israel. Thanks!
**
PART II
Now imagine that in the same email, he has the following questions for you:
I'd like to hear from readers, especially female ones, what your answer would be. If you don't mind, include your age and whether you have kids (and if so, how many hours a week you leave your kids in the care of others, if you do).
Thanks!
I'm going to borrow a blogging technique I learned from a favorite blogger friend: I will tell you something that happened to me, and ask how you would handle the situation. Tomorrow I'll tell you how I handled it.
Imagine, for a moment, that you are a 35-year-old single woman, and an age-appropriate, decent looking man with a good-enough profile (seems nice enough, is educated and employed, nothing blatantly wrong) contacts you. You exchange a few emails and agree to meet the next time he comes to Israel.
**
PART I:
In the course of these exchanges, he mentions that in his trips to the holy land, he stays in a certain town quite a distance away from you (details withheld to protect the innocent) rather than in Jerusalem (where most Orthodox tourists usually base themselves, unless there is a specific reason to be somewhere else). You ask why.
Among other reasons, including knowing people in Town X, he says
Though I love Jerusalem, staying in hotels there is not pleasant as there are too many Arabs working in them. In the hotels I stayed in Town X, I did not find that to be the case.
What is your reaction?
I'm interested in hearing what my readers think about this, and am conducting a bit of an experiment. Please share your opinion in the comments, and please include where you live and how you would "label" yourself politically vis-a-vis Israel. Thanks!
**
PART II
Now imagine that in the same email, he has the following questions for you:
Would you feel fulfilled as a housewife and full-time mother? Would you wish to work away from home, while leaving your children in the care of others?
I'd like to hear from readers, especially female ones, what your answer would be. If you don't mind, include your age and whether you have kids (and if so, how many hours a week you leave your kids in the care of others, if you do).
Thanks!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
What I've been up to
1- I was in America for 3 terrific, whirlwind weeks. First, I stopped in Manhattan for 2 nights and did some shopping. Then I spent a night in Brooklyn with my parents and sister (who all had traveled in) and we went to my cousin's wedding, which was lots of fun. Then I spent a night at a nice hotel with my sister, just the two of us -- nice sister bonding time. We flew together to San Jose, where she lives, and I spent a week playing with my nephews. Then I spent a week in Cleveland with my parents. From Cleveland, I got a ride to Pittsburgh, where I went to the wedding of a former roommate. After the wedding, I got a ride as far as Elizabeth, New Jersey, where I spent the night before getting rides (2, in segments) to Teaneck to have breakfast with my buddy Judah. From Teaneck, it was back to Manhattan, where I hung out with a couple of friends and spent another night. Finally, back to Israel! Whew.
FYI, British Airways is a great airline. The service and comfort was akin to that on Swiss, but the kosher food was better, and on some of the planes you can start and stop your movies whenever you wanted. BA is my new favorite airline.
JetBlue sucks.
2- Working out almost every day. Feels good.
3- Writing, a little. Not as much as I should be. It's hard to get back into the groove.
4- Re-reading Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series, which totals many thousands of pages. I'm in the middle of book four at the moment.
5- Trying to stay cool. We just got through a long heat wave. It was terrible. It was, as I emailed to many friends, TOO HOT TO LIVE.
6- Yesterday I went to the socioeconomically disadvantaged desert towns of Dimona and Yerucham to cover a story. I thought it would be TOO HOT and really depressing, but it wasn't too bad. I met lots of nice people and got out of the house (and got what I needed for the article I was working on). Thank God, it turned out that the people I needed to see were in air-conditioned buildings.
7- Watching my roommate do beadwork. Liza has a huge collection of little tiny beads, and just finished making a purse -- done up almost entirely out of beadwork -- for a friend of hers. Now she's making me a bracelet for my birthday, which is on August 18. Beadwork is something I don't know how to do, and wouldn't have patience for if I knew, so it's neat to see these beautiful things being made bit by itsy bit.
8- I recently learned to play Minesweeper, and within days had completed a game at Expert level. Now I have gone back to Intermediate and am trying to get ever-lower times. See number 3, above.
9- Trying to get back into blogging, see?
1- I was in America for 3 terrific, whirlwind weeks. First, I stopped in Manhattan for 2 nights and did some shopping. Then I spent a night in Brooklyn with my parents and sister (who all had traveled in) and we went to my cousin's wedding, which was lots of fun. Then I spent a night at a nice hotel with my sister, just the two of us -- nice sister bonding time. We flew together to San Jose, where she lives, and I spent a week playing with my nephews. Then I spent a week in Cleveland with my parents. From Cleveland, I got a ride to Pittsburgh, where I went to the wedding of a former roommate. After the wedding, I got a ride as far as Elizabeth, New Jersey, where I spent the night before getting rides (2, in segments) to Teaneck to have breakfast with my buddy Judah. From Teaneck, it was back to Manhattan, where I hung out with a couple of friends and spent another night. Finally, back to Israel! Whew.
FYI, British Airways is a great airline. The service and comfort was akin to that on Swiss, but the kosher food was better, and on some of the planes you can start and stop your movies whenever you wanted. BA is my new favorite airline.
JetBlue sucks.
2- Working out almost every day. Feels good.
3- Writing, a little. Not as much as I should be. It's hard to get back into the groove.
4- Re-reading Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series, which totals many thousands of pages. I'm in the middle of book four at the moment.
5- Trying to stay cool. We just got through a long heat wave. It was terrible. It was, as I emailed to many friends, TOO HOT TO LIVE.
6- Yesterday I went to the socioeconomically disadvantaged desert towns of Dimona and Yerucham to cover a story. I thought it would be TOO HOT and really depressing, but it wasn't too bad. I met lots of nice people and got out of the house (and got what I needed for the article I was working on). Thank God, it turned out that the people I needed to see were in air-conditioned buildings.
7- Watching my roommate do beadwork. Liza has a huge collection of little tiny beads, and just finished making a purse -- done up almost entirely out of beadwork -- for a friend of hers. Now she's making me a bracelet for my birthday, which is on August 18. Beadwork is something I don't know how to do, and wouldn't have patience for if I knew, so it's neat to see these beautiful things being made bit by itsy bit.
8- I recently learned to play Minesweeper, and within days had completed a game at Expert level. Now I have gone back to Intermediate and am trying to get ever-lower times. See number 3, above.
9- Trying to get back into blogging, see?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
5 Stages in 5 Years: Checking in on my Aliyah Anniversary
This post is in honor of Leah G.
A couple of weeks ago was the 5th anniversary of my Aliyah. This is an important milestone because, according to popular wisdom, an American who manages to make their immigration to Israel work for 5 years is likely to stay for good, as they intended to.
Back when I first filed an application for immigration with the Jewish Agency in New York, I attended a seminar there in which they described the "Five Stages of Aliyah." They predicted that it would take a few years to get through all the stages, and indeed they were correct: I have definitely experienced at least four of them, and am working on the fifth. They also said that many of the stages will overlap, wax and wane, which has been true as well. The stages are:
1- Euphoria. This is the feeling of utter joy and fulfillment one experiences when realizing that one is living one's dream in the Holy Land. The Jewish Agency rep quipped, "This stage lasts for one . . . maybe two . . . minutes." I still feel it sometimes, especially when I'm walking somewhere in Jerusalem with a beautiful view, and I feel very alive and free and rooted in my new home. I also feel it at holiday times, and when I pick up hot kosher food in the middle of "nowhere," and when I see mezuzot on government buildings.
A friend of mine said "I'm upset because I don't feel the holiness as much as I used to." I answered: "You don't notice it as much because you've become part of it." Yet, once in a while, one still can step back and appreciate it. I live in Israel.
2- Panic. I actually don't remember what the second stage is, officially, but I think it was something like panic because I remember them giving the example -- so true -- that you will experience this the first time you go to the supermarket and start crying in the cheese section because you don't recognize any of the food items. Panic is what happens when you realize that you don't know what you are supposed to do to solve a problem, how to solve it, whom to speak to, or why Israelis act the way they do. Furthermore, you couldn't ask even if you did know where to go, because you don't speak the national language. You are deeply screwed, and you know it.
Panic happens less and less as time goes on, but will crop up now and again when one goes into a new situation, such as moving or buying an apartment. Urgh.
3- Depression. I think this is what my friend was feeling when she complained that she didn't notice the holiness anymore. "If it's all so hard, and I don't feel much euphoria, then why am I here? Why isn't it turning out like I thought?" . . . I personally never really got depressed about my aliyah, or ever doubted the decision. I've been depressed about other things though, and being in an unfamiliar culture doesn't help.
4- Adaptation is what occurs slowly over time, as one figures out, for example, what all the different cheeses are, and who at the bank speaks English, and how to read one's electricity bill. It's the feeling of "I don't really fit in with the natives much, but I can manage my life and do what needs to be done. There is no more panic happening." Thank God, I got into this stage pretty fast, probably because my Hebrew was already pretty good when I arrived and I live in an area with a lot of English-speakers. It's where most immigrants spend most of their lives, I understand.
But the pot of gold at the end of the absorption rainbow is . . .
5- Acculturation. The Jewish Agency person said "This is when you go to America for a visit and wonder why the Americans act that way."
I have a hard time believing I'll ever get there, but who knows? It's only been five years.
This post is in honor of Leah G.
A couple of weeks ago was the 5th anniversary of my Aliyah. This is an important milestone because, according to popular wisdom, an American who manages to make their immigration to Israel work for 5 years is likely to stay for good, as they intended to.
Back when I first filed an application for immigration with the Jewish Agency in New York, I attended a seminar there in which they described the "Five Stages of Aliyah." They predicted that it would take a few years to get through all the stages, and indeed they were correct: I have definitely experienced at least four of them, and am working on the fifth. They also said that many of the stages will overlap, wax and wane, which has been true as well. The stages are:
1- Euphoria. This is the feeling of utter joy and fulfillment one experiences when realizing that one is living one's dream in the Holy Land. The Jewish Agency rep quipped, "This stage lasts for one . . . maybe two . . . minutes." I still feel it sometimes, especially when I'm walking somewhere in Jerusalem with a beautiful view, and I feel very alive and free and rooted in my new home. I also feel it at holiday times, and when I pick up hot kosher food in the middle of "nowhere," and when I see mezuzot on government buildings.
A friend of mine said "I'm upset because I don't feel the holiness as much as I used to." I answered: "You don't notice it as much because you've become part of it." Yet, once in a while, one still can step back and appreciate it. I live in Israel.
2- Panic. I actually don't remember what the second stage is, officially, but I think it was something like panic because I remember them giving the example -- so true -- that you will experience this the first time you go to the supermarket and start crying in the cheese section because you don't recognize any of the food items. Panic is what happens when you realize that you don't know what you are supposed to do to solve a problem, how to solve it, whom to speak to, or why Israelis act the way they do. Furthermore, you couldn't ask even if you did know where to go, because you don't speak the national language. You are deeply screwed, and you know it.
Panic happens less and less as time goes on, but will crop up now and again when one goes into a new situation, such as moving or buying an apartment. Urgh.
3- Depression. I think this is what my friend was feeling when she complained that she didn't notice the holiness anymore. "If it's all so hard, and I don't feel much euphoria, then why am I here? Why isn't it turning out like I thought?" . . . I personally never really got depressed about my aliyah, or ever doubted the decision. I've been depressed about other things though, and being in an unfamiliar culture doesn't help.
4- Adaptation is what occurs slowly over time, as one figures out, for example, what all the different cheeses are, and who at the bank speaks English, and how to read one's electricity bill. It's the feeling of "I don't really fit in with the natives much, but I can manage my life and do what needs to be done. There is no more panic happening." Thank God, I got into this stage pretty fast, probably because my Hebrew was already pretty good when I arrived and I live in an area with a lot of English-speakers. It's where most immigrants spend most of their lives, I understand.
But the pot of gold at the end of the absorption rainbow is . . .
5- Acculturation. The Jewish Agency person said "This is when you go to America for a visit and wonder why the Americans act that way."
I have a hard time believing I'll ever get there, but who knows? It's only been five years.
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