Keeping in Touch

Keeping in touch with our dear US friends is harder than it seemed and we especially miss you all during the Winter Holiday season.

We do know what is going on in your (US friends) lives, but rather superficially:
I still glance at the New York Times daily to see what is happening in our other home.
Moshe and Naor are trying to follow football and frequently watch Patriots live on our TV screens exchanging Instagram pictures with Boston friends.
Once a month I catch up some Facebook updates and say Happy Birthday to someone.
The New Yorker gives us a piece of US intellectual life with all the latest cultural highlights that we try to watch and read. Amazingly, movies, magazines, serials and books are now available around the world almost instantaneously.

But the really important daily details of your and our life do not cross the boundaries.
WhatsApp is so ubiquitous here for instant updates, while it is barely used in the US (for some reason unlimited data plans are more affordable and popular here).
Telephone and Skype connect but with a 7-10 hours back to the US it is very hard to catch each other leisurely.
While I was't working it was a pleasure to find each other on Google Chat or devote hours to detailed emails. Now we are barely managing with the demanding jobs and three kids requiring attention, food and rides. The only thing I could type at the end of such days is "Hi". Just like you.

The real meaningful re-connection happens only when you or we visit. We were lucky to be able to afford it this summer and had a wonderful time with many of you. Memories of these moments still warm our hearts.  Some of you or your kids came over to Israel and we picked from where we left.

I guess there is nothing to do about it. We should try to make efforts to do at least the little gestures as one line email, a snapshot of how your kids have grown, relationship or health status, connect kids on skype when they are on vacation, send each other recipes or pictures of something tasty we just made. This will be like a hug from abroad. A few of my dear friends are very good at it and I unfortunately am not but perhaps will make it my New Year resolution.

And please come to visit! I am preparing a list of places we discovered in Israel that are off the standard tourist list but are well worth visiting.

And we are at war. Day 11.

The Israeli Army entered Gaza last night. An extremely dangerous and complex operation that was tried to be avoided but became the only choice and an obvious choice as the cease-fire was rejected and the rockets intensified. The sirens were everywhere - in the South where people are afraid to leave their homes for a week now, in Jerusalem in the middle of Bar Mitzvah celebration in the beautiful Sephardi synagogue, in Hertzelia during our son's swimming practice, at my work in Rosh Ha Ayin bordering the Arab Village Kassem, in the Ramat Gan's Safari. A piece fell in The Weitzman Institute of science in Rehovot, on the Tel Aviv beach, at Ramat ha Sharon tennis court.

Our little one that is two and a half has become sadly well-trained with the shelter procedure. Last night when we grabbed her from bed at 10pm and rushed to the shelter she said: "The sirens, and now comes the boom."  Like all of us she became extremely alert to any audio signals.  When an airplane noise woke her up last night, she started crying and said: "Mommy, I am afraid." Asking me to stay with her.

Shabbat is descending on us here in a few hours. I heard on the news that a special radio frequency was set for Shabbat observers. It is called "The silent wave" and will transmit silence only interjected by the rocket alert warnings. The chief Israeli Rabbi spoke now on the radio giving a special permission to leave this radio wave on, to inquire about the shelter at any synagogue and to stop any prayer (including the un-interruptable prayer number 18) if the sirens go off.

The boys and men have entered Gaza. Relatives, coworkers, fathers and sons. I don't know how their mothers and wives could manage to sleep at night.  Even I wake up and check news alerts every few hours.  All that I find myself capable to do right now it to make cholent (hamin) - a traditional soothing Jewish stew that I otherwise would never make during summer.

Together with a restless internal war, there seems to be a political war going on against Israel on an international stage. Unfortunately Israel is very bad at PR. And the conflict that was portrayed as very simple at first (200 Gazans dead, 1 Israeli, therefore Israel is at fault) is far more complex, especially as the Hamas behavior goes against acceptable norms and rules of logic. I always took pride at being liberal and worshiped The New York Times. But now they seem to skew the facts and story. It is horrifying to see the anti-Israeli demonstrations going on in Europe and the US.  By the way, they are not censored by the Israeli TV. Our dear friends around the world, we do need your support now. Thank you to all the Bostonians who went to the pro-Israeli rally yesterday and going today.  And thank you for all the PR work on Facebook. Israel really needs it now.

The Sad Days and The Happy Days

A week ago: Holocaust Memorial Day. 10 am sirens caught us a a bank. Everyone stood with their heads down in silence commemorating the lives of 6 million Jews mass murdered in the concentration camps and ghettos.

I was surprised to learn that quite a few people avoid sending their 3-8 year old kids to day care and schools on this day. Apparently instruction of the education ministry require all public day care and school teachers mark this day based on their own judgement of the kids understanding and emotional capabilities and many parents do not trust this judgement. My boss brought his 7-year old daughter to the work instead. In our toddler's day care there were two 5-year old kids that used to attend this day care before and now came as visitors avoiding their public kindergartens.

A week later: Memorial Day honoring our fallen soldiers and victims of terror: over 23,000. In a tiny and tightly connected country as Israel everyone knows someone who died. In the evening many families participate in the ceremonies held at every neighborhood. We drove to the one in the old part of Beer Sheva, where the daughter of our friends performed. Organized by the student volunteers, it combined songs, poetry, and theater pieces mediating on the peace, war and memory.

In the morning: another chilling siren and very sad and beautiful ceremonies at all the schools. Our town of Ramat ha Sharon also held the traditional "Boys March" on Saturday: an organized 8 km walk in memory of local youth that died defending the country. It wasn't easy in the 90F heat but those who made it enjoyed the fruit ice and fresh oranges at the finish line:

In anticipation of the Independence day the whole country is decorated with the Israeli flags: on cars, buildings, street poles. The high tech park where I work is located in-between the town of Rosh ha Ayin and the Arab village Kasem. Sitting down at my desk recently I noticed a triplet of new flags outside the window on the Arab village side. In these days of sad "us-them" stories my first thought was that these may be Hamas and Palestinian flags posted by Kasem villagers as antidote to the Independence day fuss. But checking closer we realized that these are German, Portugal and Italian flags - in preparation for the Soccer World Cup starting in Rio De Janeiro in a month. The same Championship that people at my work are staring to make bets for...

The Memorial Day broke into into the Independence Day with a beautiful ceremony translated over TV from the Mount Hertzel in Jerusalem (where my mother-in-law happened to be singing).  This year the ceremony was themed on Israeli Women and their achievements. 14 remarkable Israeli women of various ages, colors, roots, accents and professions were selected to light the Independence Torches. Among them a beautiful paralympic champion, a Muslim woman entrepreneur, and a ultra-orthodox woman rabbi. Read more on them here.

Independence Night concerts, street fairs and fireworks continued well past midnight. Kids wondered the streets with their friends arriving at 1:30 am. I didn't last long as the streets were too crowded and loud to squeeze by with a stroller.

Next morning: beach time and traditional Independence Day bbqs.  On Hetzelya beach we first observed the parade or yachts and then the Air Force show:

This week between the Holocaust Memorial Day and the Independence Day is the most amazing week of the year in Israel. It is the strongest week of this nation: when the polarized country suddenly unites, when everyone goes from tears to joy, when we remember and honor together, when everyone feels very proud being a citizen.

Pick Your Own.... Paprika

In Boston this time of the year we used to go to the Marino Farm in Natick to pick apples, pears or peaches. Yesterday we drove 2 hours North to a little spice farm near Haifa to pick our own paprika. Much lower scale and less organized but much cheaper than Marino Farm, The Spice Farm, was holding a 10-day Paprika Festival. Here are paprika bushes that we picked the ripe red peppers from:

This is a paprika bath where a few green peppers were hidden among thousands of red and everyone was invited to sift through for a prize. Nadia found one.

I am standing in front of the festival's poster and proudly holding a bag of picked paprika and a dry paprika wreath Nadia and I assembled.

Scarecrow.

This farm is a popular tourist attraction and frequently holds some tours or cooking classes, in addition to an excellent spice market. Worth a visit if you are passing by.

The view of Bahaian Gardens from the main Haifa street.

Then we met a local Arab friend for a coffee in the Fattoush restaurant in Haifa. The atmosphere and food in the restaurant were so good that we almost stayed in the nearby hotel overnight in order to enjoy the dinner. Alas, the hotel was all booked and we will have to return back to Fattoush one day.

With the coffee, I had a pistachio ice cream with tahinni and honey, which was so delicious I forgot to take a picture before it was gone. Little Nili swallowed her share helping herself with a spoon and both hands.  But then when Moshe's order of kanafeh arrived, I was ready with the camera:

It is a traditional Arabic cheese pastry served with a sugary-sweet syrup.

Here is the link for Fatoush if you ever find yourself in Haifa: TripAdvisor Fatoush

A sign at the entrance to the restaurant welcomes people of all colors, cultures and religions and the mix of languages, colors and friendly laughter on this main Haifa street leaves some hope that peaceful coexistence in this part of the world may be possible.

Our First War Sirens

It started as a regular tennis lesson in the Tel Aviv's Park ha Yarkon.  A magical complex with ten or fifteen well-lit courts and elegant party place among the tall palm trees and the amusement park in the background. All the courts were full with students of all ages and group sizes. Our daughter was one out of two girls and six boys aged 9-10 with a teacher and an assistant. Given the late after-work hour (6-7pm), few of the parents were there waiting for their kids or taking the lessons themselves. I, as always, was using this time to play with our baby on the grass under the palm trees. She was holding my hand and pulling me to run in circles. Suddenly, 20 min into the lesson, the siren went off.  Not the loud one as in the second world war movies and not the low and steady one as we hear every Friday from Bnei Brak, but the up-and-down dull one. Before I figured out what was going on, the teacher told all the kids to lie down in the middle of the court and cover their heads with their hands. Few moms ran to join the kids in the court. I grabbed the baby and rushed next to my older daughter. Surprisingly kids were not scared and thought it all must be a part of some training. The baby was trying to escape my enclosure and crawl away. In a minute we heard a distant boom and sirens stopped. One mom grabbed her cell and frantically started calling her kids who were left at home alone. She then grabbed her daughter and left hugging my back on the way as we exited the courts, like saying "It will be OK, newcomer.". The rest of the parents stayed and called their families to check on or share the experience while kids continued the lesson as usual. A few minutes later my cell posted "Ha-Aretz" newspaper alert that sirens went off in Tel Aviv. Then my mom called and my sister-in-law. I sent an instant message to my husband who was travelling that we just lived through our first war siren. In this bright court light with so many people around it looked more exciting than scary. Back at home we found my dad glued to the TV.  He told me that he just served himself dinner when the siren went off. He contemplated for a second but then decided that warm food and hungry stomach can not wait.

The day before my cell-phone posted a news alert that Israeli Defense Forces assassinated the main Hamas mastermind, Ahmed al-Jabari. Almost immediately a non-stop rocket fire escalated from Gaza and all large people gatherings (schools, weddings, outdoor birthday parties) were cancelled in the nearby to Gaza areas.  Rocket fire to Shderot, Ashkelon and Ashdod has happened a few times in the past months already so it wasn't very unusual.  But then my mother-in-law sent an instant message advising to buy water supplies and I started to think through the assassination news.
I called my cousin's wife from Ashdod and offered her to bring her daughter over tomorrow. She told me that she happens to be at the wedding in Rehovot with my mother and that she is going to stay at home tomorrow with her kids and her mom. Her husband, my cousin, went to work in Ashkelon the next day, passing through 3 sirens on his way, then after 15 more sirens his factory got closed for the day and he returned home.

Our son was at his swim practice in Hertzlya and learned about the rocket only later. He called asap, ensuring that everyone is safe and was on his phone all evening discussing the situation with his classmates and swim team friends. He told me that he was calming down a girl from his school who was from the South but lived in the boarding school in Tel Aviv. They all were in the bomb shelters.

Our neighbor stopped by and brought me keys from her house. Unlike our old-built house, they have a bomb-shelter room inside theirs and she invited us to run over no matter whether they are at home or not.  Another option would be to run to the town shelter that is located one street away but there is no chance we could reach it in 1.5 mins, and this is how long it takes for the rocket to reach Tel Aviv from Gaza.

Our son demanded that we should prepare an emergency bag and I asked him to list everything he thinks should go into it. He did a great job: water, pocket knife, food, baby diapers and food, flashlights, money.  I packed it and left next to the front door. Later on my dad added a giant plastic bag full of garbage there and we joked that we should be very careful to grab the right bags if we ran. I also mused that kids should put on their prettiest PJs and wore sport clothes myself for the night.  Despite these preparations, we all decided that if something happens in the middle of the night the safest would be to gather in the master bedroom and lie face down like we did on the tennis courts.  Before sleep to calm the kids down from all the news, I let them watch extra TV and our daughter was so surprised and excited that she muttered: "I don't mind the sirens going off every day." The night was quiet, aside from baby teething and awake a few times.

School was open the next day but the planned school-wide ceremony got cancelled. Life went as usual on Friday mornings. Another siren went off soon after lunch and we all rushed to the bedroom covering our heads with our hands. I stood on my knees hiding our baby under me and she started crying scared from the dark under my body and sweater flaps. Again, a min or two, a distant boom and sirens stopped. Relatives called as well as our son swim teammates who live in the Northern areas inviting us/him to come over. Someone told that the rocket fell in the fields close to his school.  In the afternoon he left for a swim meet in the North that was going on as planned. I took both daughters to the neighborhood park that was all empty. The weather was magnificent: autumn warm and quiet; air slightly yellow from the setting sun.  A few men in variously colored kippas went by to the local synagogue. It seemed so close to Paradise, so peaceful. Back at home I made the Tomato Basil soup from the New England Soup Factory cookbook and we watched two movies occasionally checking the news. 

9-Months Progress and How We Got Here.

It has been almost nine months since we came to Israel and it seems that we have completely adjusted. Sometimes it even feels that we never left, while we have been away for 17 long years.  We have been perfectly comfortable in the serene Boston suburbs and now are surprised to discover that the boisterous Tel Aviv pace awakes and energizes us. We are exploring and learning: Kikar ha Tarbut (Culture square) is one of my new favorite places; Memorial and Holocaust Days - real days of mourning unlike the Memorial Day in the US. Our kids are gradually finding their circles and are getting used to the loud, rough but friendly school atmosphere.

Now it is time to reveal that I was the one who didn't want to come back. In the past few years, our life in the US settled into a comfortable and convenient routine: we loved our neighborhood, were surrounded by close friends and supporting neighbors, we figured out the schools and a bunch of extra-curricular activities combining Russian math, JCC swim team and a US lacrosse league, life-long mortgage and Caribbean vacations were all within our reach.  We had a favorite newspaper, magazine, radio station, political party that we proudly chose, restaurants, and a hardware shop.
Why trade all this for a life with a constant threat of war?
For a politics we would never support?
We loved Israel and always enjoyed our yearly visits.  I thought this was enough. Why endanger the kids in the army?  Why take away their chances of going to Ivy League universities? Why downgrade our lifestyle? Why immerse ourselves into this land of pronounced contradictions (religious-secular, Sephardic-Ashkenazi, arabs-jews, right-left, rich-poor)?

But returning from every visit to Israel we felt brokenhearted leaving behind all those people who loved us, the sunshine, sea and the happy frenzy of Israeli lifestyle.  We always had some doubts but were quickly dismissing them settling back into the sweet and calm routine. Perhaps one day when we will be very old; warm climate seems to be good for older people.  Every year a family that we knew moved back to Israel. We said farewells, observed their absorption, but never thought it will be us. To be more precise, Moshe secretly hoped that one day it will be us but I was quite certain it won't. A job offer came but we rejected it: "Not now. Life is too good to change it."

And then we started going to Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties, where families were together and shared touching stories of their past. And we thought, who from our family is going to come to our son's US Bar Mitzvah?  And then our relatives were sick and we felt guilty for not being closer to support the daily struggle. When Moshe's large and united family called on Jewish Holidays he always turned grim. But what really pushed him to tears were memories of Falafel David in Nes Ziona and the songs of Ehud Banai. And then another job offer came and we realized that it is now or never. And we decided to take a chance. Kids, born in the US, were not happy.  We were taking them away from everything their world was: life-long friends, house, sports, language. We were trying to soften the shock by saying that we can always come back if things don't work out.

The first 6 months were not simple. The relocation in the midst of the August heat was sticky and bureaucratically painful. Kids adjustment in school was heart-breaking.  They were coming home and seeking silence, crying for their US friends. They kept saying that they will run back to the US as soon as they reach an independent age. External and internal political news were very saddening. I had my own crisis one hot September morning (Friday) in the Rami Levi discount supermarket. More than once Moshe was very close to giving up while dealing with bureaucracy, broken air conditioners or broken promises. But the sunshine helped us smile and friends and family's support balanced the external troubles.

We slowly discovered our neighborhood - welcoming people, small food shop, great fruits and vegetable store, hair salon, private pharmacy, a wonderful park. Things that we started calling home now.

10 things we like in Israel (more than in the US)

1. Food. As everywhere around the Mediterranean, food  in Israel is a top priority and investment. It is elaborate, flavorful, and usually spicy. It is also pretty much the only thing that unite everyone in the region: Arabs, Jews, Christians, Druzes; secular and religious people; political right and political left.
   
   
   
   
   
2. Friday rituals. For the secular crowds in Israel, Friday became a sacred day, much more special than Shabbat.  Most of the adults do not work.  Kids are in schools or day-care till around noon. The adults enjoy these few hours of freedom by relaxing in coffee shops with partners or friends, then stopping at the neighborhood markets to buy Shabat hallah, weekend newspaper, flowers, pastry and other last-minute food.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   The majority of shopping is usually done in advance. Then, there is cooking for expansive Shabat dinner or anticipation of going over to the parents' house, Galei  Zahal radio in the background. Those who do not cook, enjoy a sweet rest in the afternoon. And at night, everyone puts on festive clothes and goes over to meet the rest of their families for large, noisy, late and delicious dinner. For young adults this all is just an prelude to continuing the night by going out with their friends. They get back home only around 2-4am and sleep till noon on Shabbat.
3. Public display of affection.  Parents are openly "devouring" they kids on the school steps or playgrounds, while kids comfortably enjoy it and giggle. Relatives express love for each other openly in person or on the phone. Even our kids started saying "I love you" to us a few times daily. Adult men can greet each other with a kiss without any embarrassment. Lovers behave like there is no one around, sparking the air with affection and sexuality.
   
   
   
   Image from Flickr, distributed under CCL.
4. Warm clean sea and fantastic beaches. 
5. Passion for life. It may be the warm and passionate Mediterranean blood, an antidote to the daily political stress, or something else, but Israelis live to the fullest.  Even on the weekdays, even those with kids, all eat, drink, laugh and party till late. Fun opportunities are never missed for the sake of sleep. Tel Aviv is rightly advertises itself as a city that never stops.
6. Flower bloom instead of snowstorms in February.
   
   
   
   Image from Flickr, distributed under CCL.
7. Relationships: warmth, hospitality and easy-going. Anyone and anywhere you are visiting, you can expert to be seated and fed anything from a coffee-and-cake to a full meal. If you run out of eggs, salt or sugar - feel free to knock on your neighbors door. Pregnant or visibly sick, everyone - garbage men, market sellers, bank employees, or supermarket bag packer - will be wishing you a safe and healthy delivery and a quick recovery.
8. Strong women. They work (even with 3-5 kids), they manage kids-school-babysitter-activities logistics, they cook (very well), they do most of the housework, they dress well and look great, and they mostly spoil their husbands. They are smart and opinionated leaders.
9. Playground gyms - sportex.  Someone somewhere got an ingenious idea that in a country like Israel with mostly sunny and warm weather gyms should not necessarily be indoors. Now you can find adult gym equipment corners in every park. Why not build some strength,  while your kids are playing at the playground?   Why not work on the muscles after finishing your morning jog or on the way to work?
   
   
   
10. Abundance of exotic fruits and vegetables. Brown tomatoes, spherical zucchini, sabres, papaya, kiwi,  guava, anona, persimmon, pomelo etc. And if you, like me, do not know what to do with them, any shop seller or fellow shoppers will gladly offer you a few recipe suggestions.
    
    
    
    
    
    Image from Flickr, distributed under CCL.

Next to come - 10 things we miss most about US

4 months progress

A few weeks ago the kids stopped saying their heart-breaking "When we go back to America" sentences:
"When we go back, can we live in the same town we used to live?"
"When we go back, can we go to the same school?"

They are doing well and feeling much more confident in school, and finally are able to navigate through the not-so-consistent class schedule and homework assignments. New for us all - homework, exam schedule and all the updates are posted on a school website for which each kid has a login. It took a few months for our 8-year-old to figure out how it all works and now she finally feels secure and proudly independent.

We can spot some buds of close friendships that kids begin to develop here, but the nostalgia for their friends and life that they had left in the US is still strong and painful.  It seems that the older the child the more difficult it is to penetrate the already established circle of friendships at school because class lists are kept the same from year to year.  The older the child, the more of a language depth and common experiences he needs to establish strong friendships.  In Boston, so much of the boy activities centered around playing or talking about sports - Patriots, Celtics, Red Sox.  The language of sport is rather different here.

A major source of happiness for the kids was discovery of  American-style bagels, Philadelphia cream cheese and Wacky Mac&Cheese in a local supermarket.  Now the kids miss only their US friends.

While our parents visited us in the US yearly, the kids never had strong connections with them because of the short visit time, impatience in overcoming the language barrier and busy schedules. Now, partially due to the lack of local friends and partially due to kids' growing confidence in Hebrew, the grandparents and the kids are re-discover each other. First time I see our kids voluntarily call their grandparents and request their visits. The kids genially enjoy grandparents' company - playing games, talking, traveling, eating together.  And from the grandparents side it is no longer just hugs and kisses (from the Sephardic side of the family) and critique of kids manners and behavior (from the Ashkenazi, Russian, side) that we witnessed during their US visits; there is a real connection and understanding of kids' worlds.

I fill silly to admit that I was and am no longer alarmed by every ambulance siren and do not rush to check the news asap, imagining a terrorist attack somewhere nearby.  I am finally ready to explore a crowded open street market or a shopping mall without major safety hesitations. Here is a savory meal that I split with my sister-in-law at a Turkish cafe in a vibrant Carmel Market.

We enjoy daily sunshine, warmth and colorful year-around blossoms. In the last months in our Boston suburb, waking up in a quiet of a morning with birds chirping, I thought that we will never be able to enjoy the same in Israel.  It is true that the central part of Israel is much more crowded and you are more likely to hear your neighbors' whereabouts than birds' songs. But here we are, in Tel Aviv, waking up with a bird chirping and the birds are no less beautiful than in Boston.