Daily Musings

I have been thinking a lot about being here in Israel, and what that means to me. Would it matter if I stayed here? Would it make any difference to move someplace else?

Just before I went to the states for two weeks in September, I was getting very antsy and wanting to leave - wanting to be away from this place and its troubles, its battles, its heat (literally and figuratively).

I missed my family, my friends, familiar, comfortable things like Trader Joe's and my car and my favorite coffee shops where I know exactly what I want to order before I set foot in the shop.
But then when I got to Oregon (even when I arrived in the Newark airport), I felt so strange and very out of place. Here was my family, my familiar things, my friends, but it all felt so foreign to me - as if I were thinking about a dream that I had or some previous life-cycle.


I felt so happy to be with my family, especially the kids, whom I'm not getting to see grow up ( :0( ) but I also felt so out of place.

It's so ironic.
When I got back to Israel, I was so happy to be back among my "familiar" things (chuckle), back to my life.
It seems as though I've rent my life in two. It doesn't show any signs of clearing up, and I am quite sure that I will feel this bifurcation for a long time, if not my whole life. Sure, I grew up in Oregon. I have roots there, and family and friends, but I have a life here now. What I am supposed to do about it, I have no idea. It's just an observation from a completely new experience I guess. When I'm there I want to be here; when I'm here, I miss the people and places there, the green and the crisp Northwest air.
Then I called my aunt last week, and we had a really nice conversation. I've always felt very close to her, despite living miles apart for my whole life.
Just as we were saying our goodbyes, she stopped me and said, "Wait. I just want to know one thing - are you happy?"
I was so surprised because I didn't answer right away. It took me a few moments to think about it.
The answer is - yes, in some ways. But happiness as a result of moving here is not true happiness. Sure, I've followed my dream and it's been fulfilled beyond my wildest imagination. But if my happiness is based upon whether I succeed or not here, then I will be what I have been for the past six months - so worried about succeeding so that I could be happy and forgetting about actually BEING happy.
I had, somewhere in my consciousness, decided that the only way for me to be happy was to move to Israel. Once X, Y and Z happened, or once I achieved so many things on my list, then, not only would I be happy, happiness would come to me like the rain on a gray April morning in Eugene.
But why should I wait to be happy? Why can't I be happy now?

Why all this talk of happiness?
I recently made a fortuitous discovery, one that has greatly contributed to my happiness - I came across the blog of a woman named Gretchen Rubin (thanks Gretchen!) who embarked on what she has called "The Happiness Project"

It's a seemingly very simple but actually quite complex question - what contributes to my happiness (not leaving clothes strewn around, crossing off things from a to-do list, making small splurges, giving, receiving)? What doesn't contribute to my happiness (not getting enough sleep, not exercising, eating "fake food")?

More on this later, but I urge you to check it out. She, unlike yours truly, is generally very good about posting almost every day, and I've never been bored once - which is a success in itself.

One Year Later (Part 1)

I know it's hard to believe (I'm having trouble believing it myself), but Tuesday will mark one year since I arrived in Israel, one year that I've lived, laughed, cried, loved, learned, fell and lived my dream here in this ancient land.

Israel is many things (so much more than the violence, struggle and conflict that might come to mind). Israel has also been so many things to me, and, although I have gone through, experienced and enjoyed so much in the past year, I have just begun to scratch the surface.

Almost all of my dreams have come true in the space of this year, in this tiny country probably about the size of the Oregon Coast to the Willamette Valley across and from Portland to the California border lengthwise. To be honest, I never thought much about beyond my dreams. My plan was to get here, make it through the initial absorption process, after which I figured I would have a clearer idea of my direction here....Well, I've made it, and the question has come up - So now what?

There will be more on that to come, but in the mean time --

These are some of the things I've learned in the past year (this list is not comprehensive, and it will be updated as I remember (and laugh about) more things):

1. Never, ever cross the street against the light in Israel, unless:
-you have looked both ways AT LEAST five times, or
-a big, swarthy Israeli man walking his pekingese crosses in front of you, or
-the cars that tried to inch in past their own impending red light are all stopped over the crosswalk and will buffet you from any other oncoming vehicles, or
-it's 4 am and the street is absolutely empty, or
-you are absolutely, positively and in all other ways certain that no cars will come through the intersection at the same time as you

As a side note, and per the unfortunate but now very wise, advice of a friend of mine, if you decide to jaywalk, do a quick but thorough scan of the general area to make sure there are no cops in cars, on motorbikes or standing nearby. They will give you a ticket. If they try to give you a ticket, even if you know some Hebrew and have lived in the country for a year (me!), play the tourist card, feign ignorance, and, if you're gifted in that area, bat your eyelashes and giggle a lot. This last part is not recommended for men.

2. When you go to Europe (or at least to Antwerp, where I was less than two weeks ago), and you see little silver, mushroom-cap-like objects that seem to be demarcating a certain area or track for some unknown purpose --
do not walk there! Stay away! Do not even enter the general area for a few seconds or your life will be suddenly shortened by a crazy Flem (aka a Belgian) on a very fast bike.

3. Whatever cannot be communicated by language and words can most definitely be conveyed through various hand gestures, babblish baby-talk noises and bodily demonstrations. This works for anything from clothes shopping to picking up members of the opposite sex.

4. I do have an actual fear of telephones. Refer to number 3 to understand why this is even worse when trying to do it a foreign language. Despite what you might think from watching Israelis talk on their cell phones, nothing can actually be conveyed through body language and hand gestures over the phone. And without hand gestures, well....you can see why I put off calling my non-English speaking landlord for quite some time. It may also turn out to be a problem when I have to take driving lessons to get a license here.

5. No matter how much you can't wait to get away from your parents and out of their house and away from the general area in which they live, you will eventually miss them....

6. When your company sends you on a business trip to Europe (or anywhere for that matter), make sure you buy a suitcase.

7. Banks and governmental service branches will, without fail, be closed on Monday afternoons, all day Tuesday, Wednesday afternoons and Fridays/Saturdays, or any variation of the above that strikes the branch manager's fancy. At least twice, the said "service" branch will be closed when you most need to go there. Forget 9 to 5, on Mondays and Wednesdays, despite being closed in the afternoon, the banks reopen from 4 to 6. My particular bank branch, nearest to my house, is completely closed all day Sunday, but open for a few hours on Friday.

8. If you need to do anything of importance at the bank, you can't just do it at any old branch (even though they're apparently difference branches of the same bank). If you want to make an international transfer, order checks, order a new debit/visa card, speak to someone about a loan, you must either do it at your main branch (which, for me, happens to be the one at which I opened my account - IN JERUSALEM), or, the people at the other branch must phone the branch manager at your main branch and receive authorization from your main branch's manager to complete the transaction.
"Okay then," I said. "I don't live in Jerusalem anymore. I'd like to switch my main branch from that one to this one."
"You'll have to do that at your main branch."

Apparently, there's one more thing you can't do at any other but your main branch. A guy I know from the Jerusalem ulpan went to an ATM, which took his card and wouldn't return it. Fortunately, the bank was open, so he went inside to get his card back. The woman went over to the machine, removed his card, somehow found out that this particular bank wasn't his main branch and wouldn't return the card to him until she had received authorization from the main branch's manager, which took an additional 30 mins.
Unbelievable.

The First in a Long Line

The first things to go when exhaustion hits/begins (in no particular order):

1. My tolerance – for people who do things that annoy me, for others’ kvetching and complaining, for heat, cold, hunger and thirst, for both non-committals and over-committals, for flakes, for misunderstandings, for foul odors, for messy kitchen counters and stinky sinks, for very full garbage bags, also in my kitchen, for walking up three flights of stairs twice after forgetting something, for mumblers (especially in foreign languages that are hard enough to learn as it is), and for intolerant people.

2. My memory – for remembering things I did or didn’t do less than ten minutes prior, for remembering things that people told me to do less than five minutes prior, for remembering what it is I reminded myself to do less than three minutes prior and for remembering why I came into this room in the first place.

3. My attention span - an occurrence exacerbated by hunger, thirst and having to use the little ladies' room.

4. My empathy/sympathy – I just lose interest, I guess - something to do with the attention span, too, I think.

5. My cognitive reasoning skills – math is the first to go, followed by grammar and logic, also exacerbated when nature calls. Seems my brain prioritizes where it puts its energy.

6. My coordination and general spatial awareness - This includes tripping a lot on cracks in the sidewalk and when walking up stairs, as well as running into things and people (fortunately no cars, but bikes, yes).

7. My interest in writing this list

Americans are NOT stupid - WITH SUBTITLES

Sad about the appalling state of America's (lack of an) education system? Not sad enough.....

Just put me out of my misery!

You Know You're From Oregon When.... II

In honor of our upcoming trip to Oregon (two weeks!!), we at Yayin Tov present the second installment of "You know you're from Oregon when..."

You know you're from Oregon when:
You stand on a deserted corner in the rain waiting for the "Walk" signal

You have no concept of humidity without precipitation

You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit under a raincoat

You know all the important seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Raining (Spring), Road Construction (Summer), Deer & Elk season (Fall)

Your grandparents drive at 65 mph through a rain storm without flinching

You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked

You think sexy lingerie is tube socks and flannel pajamas

You blame everything wrong with the world on ex-Californians

You house or car has ever been damaged by a falling tree or mudslide

You complain about Californians as you sell your house to one for twice as much as you originally paid

You only honk your horn if a collision is imminent and never for anything else

You wear fleece and long underwear to the beach (read: coast)

You have ever tried squirrel fishing (or know what it is)

You laugh at these.

You Know You're From Oregon When....

In honor of my upcoming trip to Oregon.....The first edition of:

You know you're from Oregon when...

You feel guilty throwing aluminum cans or paper in the trash.

You consider that if it has no snow or has not recently erupted, it is not a real mountain.

You know the difference between Chinook, Coho, and Sockeye salmon.

You know how to pronounce Mishikhwutmetunne, Coquille, Sequim, Siuslaw, Puyallup, Issaquah, Oregon, Yachats, Yakima, and Willamette.

You are not fazed by "Today's forecast: showers followed by rain," and "Tomorrow's forecast: rain followed by showers."

You notice, "The mountain is out" when it is a pretty day and you can actually see it.

You put on your shorts when the temperature gets above 50, but still wear your hiking boots and parka.

You switch to your sandals when it gets about 60, but keep the socks on.

You think people who use umbrellas are either wimps or people from California

You buy new sunglasses every year, because you cannot find the old ones after such a long time.

You understand these.

כמה מילים - A Few Words

A few words as I pop out of 'editorial seclusion' (thanks for that one, mr. brendah) for a few moments.
Some things I saw in the past 168 hours:

-There is a street very near to my building (derekh namir, for those of you who know Tel Aviv). It is a main street, comparable to W. 11th or Franklin in Eugene, although mostly residential. Walking past on my way to work this morning, I noticed one of the signs on one of the buildings (most buildings, when listing the building number, also include the street name) said Derekh Haifa, instead of the current street name, Derekh Namir.

The road must have, at one point, been called Derekh Haifa because it is/was? a main road from Tel Aviv to Haifa, in the north of the city. Unfortunately, either no one has noticed that this older, still-inhabited building, has the old name on it when the building right next to it has the current name, or no one bothered to change it because, as we all know - it's not my problem; someone else will do it.

-Last Thursday night, I was waiting for a bus not far from my flat. A woman, probably only a few years older than I, walked by with a little furry thing that must have been a dog, although I am not sure on this point.

The dog-like creature stopped not two meters from me, squatted, and dispensed its little dark brown wares on the sidewalk. I looked at the woman, she looked at me, we both looked at the shit, and she continued walking. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I should have said something. What happened next confirmed my belief in the inter-connected nature of the universe, even as it relates to little piles of shit (excuse my Turkish).

As I was rehearsing in my mind how I could have made some comment or perhaps influenced the woman to pick up the shit with my limited Hebrew, I noticed a man walking in my direction, coming from the same direction the woman had. He was fairly tall and gangly, with too long limbs and clothes that seemed about to slip off his shoulders, older, with greasy black hair, papery skin, and shiny black shoes. I looked at him, looked at the shit, looked at him again, and realized with inner horror that he was walking in a dead straight line right toward the little pile of dog shit on the pavement. The soles of his shoes just rolled over and brushed the little pile. I made no movement, just watched. He slowed and his second foot hit the little piece he had just overturned. He didn’t notice – at all. I just chuckled to myself at the irony of it all.

Maybe I should have said something to the woman, or even warned the man, but, you know....

Now for the news:
-Apparently, the Pope wants to be friends with us. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I always thought this one had shifty eyes...
-There's a hot new Israeli girl band. Hopefully they'll bring us something better than those Spice-y British chicks.
-BREAKING NEWS: The White House released a report disclosing that the president (yes W's still there, can't tell you why, but it's true) was (gasp!) treated for lyme disease LAST YEAR. OH DEAR! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! YOU'RE KIDDING! IS HE OKAY?? Apparently he is, since this picture accompanied the CNN story:


You know, I'm sure it's on everyone else's minds, and I am just asking the obvious question, but how does he find time to run a country with all of those bike trips and polyp removals (oops!) Oh wait, but I forgot, Dick actually runs the country. Phew! I was worried there for a second. Come to think of it, that guy on the right is clearly Lance Armstrong, but the other chap doesn't look at all like ol' dubya. What is CNN up to, anyway?

Well, that's about it. I swear I had something else to put here, but I got distracted by all the President's polyps.

Signing off.