No Country for Sick (Wo)Men

The past few days I've been suffering from what can only be called Israelitis. I'm not sure what it is. It's probably a stomach virus, though the doctor I visited didn't think it was anything more than "digestive troubles." Yet last night, after a week of minor suffering, I came down with a low-grade fever and chills. It felt like my body was falling apart. I hate getting fevers. They're terrifying.

So, I elected to stay home from school yesterday and only stayed in class one hour today to take my Hebrew test. Which, all things considered, went fairly well. I've been resting and dousing myself with fluids, but I still feel disconnected and slightly out of it. I miss being around all my classmates but don't want to get them sick, too. So, here I am, alone in the apartment, trying to get well. Adam is out with a friend from his Birthright trip. Though I miss having him here to take care of me, the kid deserves some fun times out in this city!

Yesterday's visit to the health center was oh-so-blogworthy. It started with my nearly getting lost on the way to the doctor. I was told the Wolfson Medical Center in the Wolfson Towers would be easy to find. I followed the directions and arrived at the building ten minutes after leaving my apartment. Yet I was confused to discover two apartment building towers in front of me, and no information on "medical" or "health" anywhere. There was a big blue-silver-art-looking-building contraption between them, but that thing had no apparent entrance. So I walked around and around, walked upstairs and downstairs, and finally, totally frustrated, found the path to the security guard who informed me in horrible English that Wolfson was on the third floor of the blue-silver-art-looking-building.

Turns out, we were on the 7th floor (ground level) and I had to descend to the third floor to seek medical attention. So I did.

I think Wolfson is a part of a greater program called Family Health Practice or something, because there were several different reception desks in the area. I walked up to the one with four young conservatively-dressed women working behind the counter because it looked the most... sanitary. I didn't even notice the four artsy signs above the desk designating it as "Wolfson Medical." One of the women took my name and insurance information and asked me to wait. So I did.

After about fifteen minutes, a doctor whose name I still can't pronounce took a quick look at me. Originally American, he made aliyah eight years ago and became a partner in this health practice. He was nice, religious, and had a kind way about him. Yet I don't completely trust his diagnosis, and I have to wait a few more days to see if the medicine he gave me really does the trick.

After the visit, I was told to head downstairs to the pharmacy (floor 2) where they would make a copy of my perscription and give me the medicine, which was already included in my co-pay. However, when I arrived the rather unhelpful woman assured me that, no way did they have a xerox machine, I certainly did not understand the doctor, I had to go back upstairs to make the copy myself (both copies go to the pharmacy, mind you) and that it would be a 17 shekel charge for the medicine.

At this point, I was just so annoyed with the whole thing. I tried to give the pharmacy woman a bit of attitude (or, a bit of Israeli-ness) but to no avail. She wouldn't even give me my prescription until she had her two copies. So, I headed back upstairs to make the copy, then back downstairs to get the medicine. Then I got back in an elevator, headed to the 7th floor, somehow found my way back to the main road, and walked home.

Even for an English-speaking health clinic that deals primarily with tourists and students, it was a typically Israeli visit if I ever had one. There was so little interest in my personal situation. There was no polish, no finesse, no comfort. Confusion, misinterpretation, language barriers, and me being given a hard time. This place made Cowell Health Center at UC Davis look like a five-star health retreat resort center! Still, it was exactly what I expected. And I think I may have to go back tomorrow morning for a second opinion. Lovely.

I have concluded from this nonsense that is within all our best interests to just not get sick here in Israel. This is obviously impossible. However, I feel I have to step up my already overeager sense of health paranoia in order to avoid further health issues.

Unfortunately, this country doesn't take food cleanliness or sanitation as seriously as I would like. It would make my father absolutely cringe to see how food is handled here; in restaurants (casual and fancy) and especially in the shuk. Not to mention the lack of thought put into aesthetics; food is simply given to you, and you eat it, and it's done, and you're full. There's no show, no riffraff, it's just served, straight up. And if the plate's dirty, nobody cares. It's unnerving.

And it's not just the food! The other night a huge group of HUCsters ventured to the Malcha Mall movie theater to see The Dark Knight. (Which was very good and VERY intense) The floor of the theater was disgusting and dirty. It was sticky and smelly, covered in popcorn and soda droppings from Hashem knows when. And the women's bathroom at the theater was positively vile. I can't even think about it without feeling sick to my stomach. Then again, I am a bit under the weather.

Again, this is just the Israeli way. This land fought over for thousands of years is treated in places like a garbage heap. Why? No one really knows. Adam mentioned something a bit disturbing a few days ago; maybe their thought is, it might get destroyed anyway, so why keep it clean? I personally think it's linked to Israeli's lack of patience, or the fact that they just don't want to invest the time in something so trivial when there are much bigger problems going on. Either way, some places are just plain gross.

Despite all these complaints, my random observations about life in Israel have furthered my insight onto all the different ways this country is so unique. These experiences, good and bad, all deepen my understanding of this culture and how it functions. That is the purpose of this year, so in a strange small way I am grateful. I get to see the dirty underbelly of living here, not as a tourist, not as an olim hadasha, (aliyah-maker) but as a one-year resident with an apartment, a lease, and a purpose.

Missing all of you back home, hoping the LA crowd is recovering from the earthquake.

Lots of love,
Jaclyn

Tiyul to Tel Aviv

Though I've been to Tel Aviv several times, it never ceases to surprise me how different the city is from good ole Jerusalem.

Yesterday a vast majority of us HUC-sters and SOs boarded an air-conditioned chartered bus (thank you, interns!) and journeyed down the hill to the city by the bay for a day of sun and fun. We arrived around 1pm, ate some delicious non-Kosher sandwiches, lounged at the beach for several hours, ditched a Shabbat service to have non-Kosher Chinese food for dinner, and headed back to quiet Jerusalem in the early evening.

The glorious Mediterranean Sea welcomes you with a "Swimming Prohibited" sign

Thanks to my inability to get out of the house on time, Lauren, Adam, and I had to haul ass down to HUC so we didn't miss the bus. By the time we got there we were sweaty and disgusting. This is, unfortunately, not entirely uncommon. Two showers a day is the norm here in J'lem.

When we got off the bus in Tel Aviv we were shocked to be hit by a wave of intense humidity. Thus, the sweat and disgust that had somehow evaporated during our air-conditioned ride returned tenfold. However, we were so happy to be smack dab in the middle of hustle-bustle Tel Aviv, it barely mattered.

A group of us walked around the Nachlat Binyamin shuk-like-area for about ten minutes before the density of the crowd got to us. There were more people crowded into that packed little street than any other place I've been in J'lem; even the shuk on a Friday morning could not compare.

People buying things. Lots of things.

So, we meandered over to Shenkin Street (arguably the epicenter of Haute Couture in Israel) for a delicious lunch and window shopping.

Israel-Chic on Shenkin Street

It was midway through our lunch that my Sensory Overload wore off and I was able to ascertain why Tel Aviv is so different from Jerusalem. First, the way women dress in Tel Aviv is starkly different from the buttoned-up conservative-chic look of J'lem. Everywhere I looked on Shenkin Street were women of all shapes and sizes flaunting their figures and not giving a hoot. Women had crazy colored hair, tattoos, and all sorts of interesting clothing choices. The female body is celebrated in Tel Aviv, whereas Jerusalem encourages its women to button it up and save it for their husbands.

The noise was overwhelming in Tel Aviv. Granted, Jerusalem any day but Saturday is not a quiet place. (Especially on Rehov Ramban) But the sounds coming up from the streets of TA were overwhelming! Every time my eyes moved, my ears focused on a new word, new sound, new melodies. It felt like Tel Aviv was bursting with life and raw, unbridled energy. It could have been Friday afternoon craziness, or perhaps it was something more. But Tel Aviv was loud. Real loud. And completely, totally proud.

The third thing I noticed was the relative scarcity of ultra-religious Jews walking around. Here in J'lem, and especially in Rehavia, there are religious Jews everywhere you look. They identify themselves not only by way of dress, but how they carry themselves in the "outside" world. Usually, picking out an observant Jew begins with their clothing choices. For men it's a polyester black suit, kippah or black hat, and occasional tzitzit. For women, it's the long sleeves, long skirt, and obvious wig.

But with both men and women, there is a tremendous conveyance of coldness that comes out of their body language. They look harried, exhausted; like they're rushing to get to shul. The women pushing the baby strollers always kills me; they look unhappy, perhaps desperate. It's a strange thing to experience, especially when you believe in the same God. Relatively speaking.

After our Shenkin Street tour, we walked several blocks down to the beach. Now, as Los Angeles girl I feel it is my birthright to love the ocean and worship the goddess of warm white sand. Yet, I've always found the beach a bit unsettling, and perhaps a little bit uncomfortable. The crash of waves can be a little scary, I worry about people (specifically children) drowning, and the sand always gets in places you don't want it to go.

However, the Mediterranean Sea was warm, sparkling, and beautiful yesterday. Just to be able to dip my feet in the water was a gift that kept on giving. Adam and I shared some delicious Stella Artois beers at the restaurant overlooking the ocean, and it was incredibly relaxing. It felt like a real pleasure to sit there and enjoy our Friday afternoon together.

My view from our table in the restaurant.

As the sun went down we found ourselves sandy, sweaty, and slightly exhausted. Thus, the option of going to Shabbat services didn't thrill me. And I was plenty hungry. So, in true Tel Aviv style, we skipped services and headed off to a nearby Chinese restaurant with a small group of HUCsters. It was a good meal, good conversation, and good adventure. To me, having positive experiences with new people can substitute for a service you don't feel you can sit through.

To sum it all up, Tel Aviv seemed to me like a big middle finger sticking up at Jerusalem. The city itself felt like a rebel, challenging the orthodox of Jerusalem with its non-Kosher restaurants and scantily-clad women. It seemed a bit over-the-top, a bit ballsy, but totally and completely unique. Tel Aviv is a fearless city; unafraid to be a little dirty, a little secular, and a whole lot busy. I hope to spend more time there in the next few weeks before Adam returns to the states.

Until next time,

Jaclyn

Pigua K'rova

It's one thing to hear over and over again how impressive Israeli's resilience is after terror attacks. That they can go on living their lives and continue to be who they are in spite of tremendous adversity in this chaotic land. You hear it from abroad, you witness it on the news and in public venues, and you learn from a distance that this is the Israeli way of living life.

It is quite another thing to physically experience this resilience after a terror attack three blocks from your school that occurs at the same time you are let out of class at an intersection you frequent several times a week and that several of your classmates live adjacent to.

Less than three hours after the second bulldozer pigua since my arrival on July 2, our community and our neighborhood were completely back to normal. People bought food from the market, boarded their buses, drove themselves home, and went about their lives. That evening, in the lovely upscale neighborhood of Emek Refaim, locals (and tourists) were window-shopping and eating dinner in outdoor cafes. There was even a small festival-market gathering and live jazz concert at the Adam School. It felt like everything was back to normal. As if nothing ever really happened.

Except, you know, something did.

Later that night, my friend Rachel and I walked from Emek back to our neighborhood. Earlier that day we purposely avoided the Keren Hayesod/King David intersection and took a taxi together to our back-to-back voice lessons. But we chose to walk home back the way we usually do to see the area with our own eyes.

As we approached the intersection, my body went into uncontrollable chills. It felt like I was getting the flu. It wasn't anxiety or panic or even discomfort; just ridiculous waves of chills. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I wanted to get the hell out of that intersection at that very moment.

The strange thing is, absolutely nothing had changed. Not even a lamppost had been dented. Minus a tiny bit of caution tape left dangling from a pole, there was not a single remnant or reminder that earlier that day some crazy guy went on a rampage for reasons we will never understand, injured a bunch of people, crushed some cars, screwed up a bus, and then got himself killed.

This is the way it is here. Israelis refuse to let those who hate them win. They keep pushing forward, keep celebrating, keep eating and drinking and loving and learning. So there was a pigua? So what. Clean it up, let's move on. It's unnerving, and yet somewhat comforting, that they can be so strong and so used to these events that scare the shit out of us.

Yesterday was both incredibly scary and tremendously clarifying. First, I realized (with Adam's help) that remaining calm is quite literally the only thing you should do in these situations. I saw how this seemingly endless war of hatred hits so close to home. And, my respect for Israelis and their ability to keep moving forward grew exponentially yesterday, as did my appreciation for the soldiers and police officers trained to keep civilians alive.

I am happy to report that no victims were killed and that everyone from HUC is okay. Shaken up, but okay. We're still here, and we'll continue to be here, cultivating our understanding of this crazy strip of land in the middle of so many different wars.

Love,
Jaclyn

Back to Shul, Back to School

Shalom and Bruchim Ha'baim.

The past few days have been filled with many wonderful events and moments. I've been blogging all of it in my head, and now it is time to edit and share with all of you.

On Thursday evening we celebrated finishing the bulk of our Orientation sessions with a trip to the Israel Museum. It was there that we indulged in the annual Jerusalem Wine Festival, a large gathering of dozens of wineries based here in Israel. Each had their own booth to showcase several of their best bitter, semi-decent wines. A delightful jazz band played as we meandered. It was held in the Sculpture Garden, where the famous Ahava (love) sculpture resides.


The event featured hundreds of happy, relaxed, and most likely inebriated people from all corners of the globe. Which was refreshing, considering earlier that evening each HUC student and SO received a text message from one of our administrators saying there was a Security Threat and we were to avoid the shuk and Ben Yehuda. Add Wednesday's tragic events to the mix, and you had one huge collective sigh of happiness from oenophiles and wine neophytes alike.

The Festival was an opportunity to do more than just enjoy our evening and have a good time. It was a chance to see a burgeoning part of Israeli agriculture, to converse with Israelis, Germans, Brits and Americans about anything and everything under the sun. (Or moon) Finally, it was yet another way to experience Israeli culture in some capacity outside the Americanized bubble that surrounds Hebrew Union College. I had a wonderful time with my classmates and with Adam, and we returned from the Museum with grand smiles on our faces.


The very next evening, Friday to be exact, we took part in our 2nd HUC Shabbat b'yachad. (together) It was absolutely wonderful. Really and truly great. The service itself felt warmer and more inclusive than the past several t'filah (prayer) sessions we have partaken in. The leaders, our fearless interns Haim, Lydia, and Dan, did a fabulous job. And, the past several days of getting closer to my classmates has only added to the feeling of connectedness and community that I've craved since we arrived.

After services we indulged in a delicious dinner, followed by an absolutely beautiful ruach (spirit) session. A bunch of my classmates brought out their guitars and began to play the familiar tunes of our youths. Everyone was singing and dancing along, and it really felt like a cohesive togetherness. Rather than contemplate the implications of how each of us connected to the guitar-based camp-style singalong music, I simply enjoyed myself. I connected to it all without even thinking about whether or not I would connect to it. It simply flowed, and it felt great.

Saturday morning's services were even better, and they left me rejuvenated and thrilled to be here in Israel celebrating Shabbat. Services were led by the dean of our school, Rabbi Marmur, and the dean of the Cantorial program, Cantor Havilio. Rather than go into what I liked or didn't like about the service itself, I will instead focus on the fact that they both translated tremendous connection with what they were doing. Regardless of their choice of words or the tunes we sang, I loved the service because their passion was so evident.

And, I will say that Rabbi Marmur is brilliant. I spent the whole rest of the day rhapsodizing about his brilliance, how interesting his sermon was, how erudite and yet wholly relatable his words are, and how dead-on he is about everything he says. It gives me great comfort to know he is leading this program. I cannot wait to just bask in his glow and learn from him this year.

Finally, Saturday evening we invited the entire class over to our apartment for dinner and Havdallah. It was a beautiful evening and everyone had a great time. I was so shocked by how many times people thanked us for hosting, and how often someone asked if there was anything they could help with. A few of them even did some dishes! They insisted! I could not believe it. I was honestly and truly blown away.

With fellow future rabbi Josh on our patio

What's special about this class, and what continues to surprise me, is that despite different backgrounds and personalities everyone seems to have a whole lot of respect for one another and a tremendous desire to build community. After searching for three stars in the sky, our Havdallah began. Lauren read a poem, and I said some rabbi-ish words. Then the entire group formed a circle and wrapped their arms around one another on our tiny little patio, spilling themselves onto the dirt area just so we could be linked together. That really moved me.

Cantorial student Jessie and SO Chad with Havdallah gear.

As Havdallah turned into Saturday night, and Saturday night became Sunday morning, we made our way to school at 8:30am to officially begin our HUC educations. That's right. We finally started! So far, school is good. The history class was mamash interesting, and my Hebrew teacher is awesome. Give me a few days, I'll write a full analysis.

Many hugs from an official HUC-JIR student in Israel.

Love,
Jaclyn

The journey officially begins

Today marked the official beginning of our Year-in-Israel Orientation.

It also marked the "end" of the Lebanon War, with the bodies of two Israeli soldiers being returned to their families, and the release of Palestinian and Lebanese militants to their home countries as well.

To be here in this country and starting this adventure on this particular day in Israel's history is poignant, powerful, and incredibly emotional. When we were told around 11am this morning that the soldiers were returning in coffins, as had been predicted by a vast majority of Israelis, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. The entire room of students took a collective gasp; our professors looked solemn and teary-eyed. And then, we continued our discussion about safety and security in this complex country that is Israel.

To read the news online from thousands of miles away is very different than actually being here and feeling the atmosphere of the country on a day like today. Israel is so small, so connected. The pain of the two families is the pain of the majority of the country. The frustrations and fears about future political shifts and changes are shared by everyone. It's such a different feeling than reading the paper in Berkeley, California about how someone from Yuma, Arizona died in Iraq. It just doesn't equate for me. There isn't the same weight or relevance. Which, I must admit, is a little bit pathetic. And something I wish to change.

The events of today further solidify my belief that this year in Israel is indeed a wonderful experiment and a necessary part of becoming a rabbi. Though I cringe at many of the decisions made by the Israeli government, and though at times I am incredibly frustrated by the way people in this country live and interact, there is something very pertinent about being here and experiencing a year in the life of Israel. Though it is terrifying at times to think about what "could happen" here, it's also helping me get through my ever-present tendency toward paranoia. It's helping me grow just to be here and see and live and breathe Israel.

What I think is so beautiful and incredible about this year is the very notion that its purpose is to remove us from our comfort zone. It's aim is to place us at the center of many different kinds of wars and get us to survive and hopefully thrive through them. Later on in our careers we will undoubtedly be faced with a litany of tough situations. I know that this year will give us the strength and knowledge to make it through a career in the unique profession of being clergy.

It pains me to think of the life I left behind, the celebrations and events I will miss, the changes and developments that will occur in our families, our social circles, and especially our country, and the human beings that have made such an impact on my becoming who I am. Yet I know that this year will be one of such immesurable growth. I know this year will be one of incredible adventures. And I praise Hashem for the geniuses that created Facebook, Skype, and Gchat. Even while 6,000 miles from California, it warms the cockels of my heart to know that my friends and family are only an electric current away.

Back to the orientation... our day continued with further discussions about our hopes and expectations, our fears and concerns. Speaking with my fellow students regarding our similar feelings starting this program, it felt both incredibly comforting and oddly gratifying to know that we are all, for the most part, on the same page about this year, and about Israel. Each of us acknowledges the complexities and challenges of the Jewish state, and the frustrations that accompany its politics. Where this will lead, I do not know. But I am thrilled to begin the year with respectful and tolerant dialogue.

I have grown to have a deep appreciation for my fellow classmates and future colleagues. I simply cannot believe how respectful and kind everyone has been since the very beginning. Every single person comes from a different background, yet there is a tremendous feeling of respect amongst the class. People have been incredibly welcoming to the small group of SOs, and Adam has quickly found himself a niche here. It's wonderful to observe and partake in.

Today's orientation concluded with us reading the T'filat Haderech, or Traveler's Prayer. I want to share with you the words of this prayer, as they had a tremendous impact on me as I read them today.

May it be Your will, our God and God of our ancestors
that You lead us in peace and help us reach our destination alive,
joyfully and peacefully.
May You protect us on our leaving and on our return,
and rescue us from any harm,
and may You bless the work of our hands,
and may our deeds merit honor for You.
Praise to You, Adonai, Protector of Israel.

I miss you all.

Love,
Jaclyn

Adam's Mishpucha

This is Adam's family. Front and center is his grandmother's sister Katka. She lives just outside of Tel Aviv. On the left is her partner, Natan. He did pilates while we were eating dinner.

Natan, Katka, me, Adam, and Katka's daughter Irit on the far right.

This is the meal Katka prepared: chicken shnitzel, mashed potatoes, and creamed spinach. It was identical in look, taste, and texture to countless meals prepared by Adam's grandmother Betka back in California.

The experience of having dinner with Adam's Israeli family was so incredible. First off, we felt like we were seeing the "real" Israel. Sitting in a modest dining room in Giv'at Sh'muel (a suburb of Tel Aviv) eating and drinking authentic food (not tourist food) and being with wonderful people who happened to be related by blood to Adam was just so amazing.

Watching Adam's eyes light up as we spoke about his family's past and present, I realized how important the "mishpacha" is to both of us. It's something we value tremendously.

Finally, speaking in Hebrew and acting as a semi-translator was thrilling and frustrating. It made me ever so grateful for my lessons with the world's best tutor, Ruth Rosenwald. It also made me realize my Hebrew really isn't as good as it could be. I need a lot of practice this year! Hebrew is an extremely difficult language, but it's beautiful and rich and lovely. It was awesome to attempt communicating with everyone at the dinner table.

More adventures will follow! Lots of love,

Jaclyn

Packing Punches

Intense.

That is undoubtedly the best word to sum up my Israel experience so far, and best way to describe the country itself. This is one majorly intense place, no matter which way you slice it. It's a beautiful, richly diverse place with so much to offer. It's a great place to take a vacation, to explore your roots, and to pray amongst many different peoples. But it is also extremely, unavoidably intense to be here, and experiencing life the way Israelis do is also equally as intense.

On Friday morning Adam and I took a trip to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. I visited there with my family in 1997, and since then the place has been totally redone. The new museum is unbelievably well-designed. It's a concrete triangle carved into a hill. You enter the building and have to follow a trail that tells the story of the Holocaust. Beginning with early antisemitism in Europe at the start of the 20th century, it takes you all the way through the war, the liberation, and its aftermath.

Whoever designed the new Yad Vashem did an excellent job. It was powerful, poignant, and very moving. The artifacts and testimonials from survivors, and the depth of information they covered, were all incredibly moving. You exit the Museum through huge glass doors that open onto an expansive vista of the hills of Jerusalem. It was a powerful, hard-hitting message that the land of Israel is, and will always be, a refuge for persecuted Jews around the world.

Outside the main building are other memorials. The most intense, by far, is the Children's Memorial. It's essentially a pitch black room with dozens of mirrors. At the center of the room is one candle, and that candle is multiplied by thousands to represent the children who died. As you're walking through the room, the names of children are spoken through the speakers. That room really packed a punch. An intense punch.

Our museum visit gave me my first feeling of "whoa" since we got here almost two weeks ago. Yad Vashem was very much connected with the idea that the Holocaust paved the way for the creation of the state of Israel. It was hard not to feel emotional listening to those stories and seeing those horrific pictures. But it was also very, very intense to think of the political and social implications of WWII and its aftermath, and how I am here in this program because of everything that happened. Again, intense.

That evening was another intense experience, but in a different way. It was the first official gathering of all our classmates in the President's Residence at HUC. David Ellenson, HUC's president, (aka head honcho) welcomed us to our new home, to the start of our journey, and spoke at length about what a blessing it was. There were head honchos from the Board of Trustees and the URJ there, too. They all made speeches and gave introductions. There were snacks and drinks and laughs and tears. And honestly, I ate it all up.

It felt so incredible to be in that room, listening to the words of people who have a) gone through this program before us, b) went after this education for the same general reason all of us did, and c) whole-heartedly supported us and our decision to enter this field. There was a whole lot of love in that room, and it felt good.

It also felt good to realize that I am one hundred percent in the right program. This was all meant to be, even if I didn't see it in February of 2007, even with my doubts about my capacity for study, even with my anxieties and fears over what I am getting myself into. It was such a strong affirmation of everything I've committed myself to over the past decade. And it felt really, really good.

After the gathering we joined our SOs (Significant Others) for a beautiful outdoor Shabbat evening service led by Cantor Havilio, the director of the Cantorial Studies program. They did it on a lawn that faces the Old City. To watch the sun go down over Old Jerusalem while singing the prayers of my people was so spiritually awakening. It felt powerful, intense, beautiful, lovely, and it felt like home. I got tears in my eyes at several points during the evening, and was ever so grateful that my wonderful partner Adam was there holding my hand.

The sun setting over the Old City:


The intense Friday was followed by a blissfully mellow Shabbat. That Shabbat was fillied with delicious food, great conversation, and the hospitality of our fellow classmates. I must say, my future colleagues are really good people! And talented cooks! Many have already hosted get-togethers at their homes, all of these chances to get to know one each other better and bond through the glorious equalizer that is food.

At the end of Shabbat, we headed out to Ben Yehuda for some drinks and dancing. Adam and I got funky on the dance floor, surrounded by American teenagers. Here's proof:



From the land of Israel, I wish you all a beautiful week and many blessings. Missing you all.

-Jaclyn

The Old City

Here I am, decompressing from an emotionally-charged and physically HOT day in the Old City, listening to my iPod to drown out the weird drilling sound coming from upstairs, glancing at Haaretz headlines to feel more aware of what's going on in the world, and feeling completely, totally confused.

Let's start in Turkey. An attack on the US Consulate in Istanbul. People dead. A message sent to the rest of the world. Obviously sad, obviously disturbing.

Then let's move to Iran. A claim that they can fire a rocket into Tel Aviv. A grainy, possibly doctored image of a rocket blasting into space with "Don't Mess with Ahmadinejad" written on the side. A threat to my current home, and the rest of the world, that Iran can kick your ass five ways til Tuesday.

Finally, back to Israel. Two people from Tel Aviv arrested for aiding Al Qaeda. Giving information to the "bad guys" about highly sensitive stuff. Like airport security and transportation codes and all that jazz.

So, how do I process all of this? How does it make me feel to read all this and visualize myself smack dab in the center of a map of the Middle East? How difficult is it going to be for me to actually step outside this little comfort zone I've created this week, possibly to travel outside the city or (gasp) into neighboring countries?

Why does it seem like with each passing year, and each highly-publicized act of violence, the world seems to get a little smaller? The feeling of safety and security you thought you had for five minutes morphs into a new feeling; fear, distrust, discomfort. It doesn't change the fact that you've got a job, or school, or something keeping you where you are and doing what you're doing. But it also makes it feel just slightly more intense, more difficult, more charged.

Today's activities have made me all the more pensive about this subject. We finally went to the Old City for the first time since our arrival. And I have to say, it felt very different from the last time I was there. The Arab and Christian Quarters we walked through felt totally devoid of happiness or emotion. Everyone shoved tchotckes in our face, but without their insatiable energy or tireless enthusiasm to make a sale. It was as if everyone had given up caring.

The man who served us our hummus in the Arab Quarter looked so unhappy and so lost; obviously not a new phenomenon in Israel, but nonetheless upsetting. The people of the Old City seemed, on a whole, just kind of dead. The city also looked much dirtier than it was the last time I was there, or perhaps I just didn't notice it. There was construction going on, too. Which I thought was forbidden! There was a giant crane in the Jewish quarter. A giant crane! It made the Old City seem far less enchanted, far less dazzling, and far less impressive as the headquarters of all the world's major religions.

And then we went to the Wall. The holiest site in the world for us Jews. I've been there several times before. From my recollection, each visit prompted an emotional reaction. I felt moved in one way or another. The Wall always made me feel like a Jew.

But today, I felt nothing. No connection. No tears. No prayers came to mind. I was more annoyed than anything else, and surprised, as I watched girls and women around me texting or talking on their cell phones; women in inappropriate clothing not getting spoken to by the guard. It was incredibly strange and slightly upsetting.

A group of us future female rabbis started talking about how offensive the wall is to us. The men's section is vastly larger than the women's. Men can wear whatever they want. Men have a large, air-conditioned room in which to pray and study. Women have a shockingly small section in which to pray, have to cover various parts of their body so as not to tempt the men across the mehitza, and have a tiny shanty shack which you can't even get to because it's surrounded by occupied chairs. The Western Wall is such an interesting phenomenon; the name itself representative of creating a division amongst people, cultures, and sexes.

So begins my rabbinical school experience. Religion and its affect on the pious and the secular. Judaism and its restrictions. Other cultures' rules and reactions and ridiculousness. I have to admit, I am actually excited to get down to the nitty-gritty of all this and dissect it to such an extreme. As painful and surprising as all this is, I am looking forward to coming out of this year with a deeper knowledge of all of this.

And even as I look at the rest of the world through the lens of the news, the distorted reality of the times we live in shaking me to my core, I cannot help but wonder what this year has in store for all of us--each country and religion and culture--as we face the inevitable changes that lie ahead.

For your viewing pleasure, here's a pic of us prior to our Wall visit. Notice the difference in our choices (or lack thereof) of dress.

xoxo,
J

Visuals

As promised, here are some preliminary pics:

All sweaty, glorious smiles after 15 hours in the air.

In front of our apartment, which is almost ready for its close-up.

Rehov Ramban, (our street) which seems to be perpetually traffic-jammed: day or night, Shabbos or no Shabbos.

Out to dinner to celebrate classmate Lisa's birthday.

Lots of love from J.Fro and Jew Fro!

Israel is starting to feel more like home.

As the days have progressed and I've started to sleep more than one hour each night, the Holy Land has become more familiar to me in body and in spirit.

Our apartment is looking better each day, with all the repairs that should have taken place before we arrived getting done now. Lauren and I spent several bundles of shekels at the Malcha Mall (largest mall in the Middle East, mind you) on home stuff and appliances. Our place is lookin' good! Pictures are coming soon.

Adam and I have taken beautiful "discovery" walks in our neighborhood and environs. We found a lovely little street a block up from ours with a fantastically talented laundry guy (his folding skills are truly inspiring) and a Kosher pizza place with an abundance of kitschy American posters. Plus, an overpriced hair salon. Always a sign you're living in a nice place.

I haven't really been able to process my feelings about Jerusalem, and Israel in general, since I've arrived. I'm starting to get little reactions to things, attempting to fold them away in the back of my mind for a later blog post. But (un)fortunately, I have been surrounded by English and North America and gentrified restaurants thus far. The extended Israel I've seen has been washed away by my anxiety and frustration over moving. I can't wait to be fully, completely settled so these blog posts can be more about the country, and less about my longing for some semblance of normalcy. So keep in mind, those entries are forthcoming.

As I've spent more time with people in the program, I've grown more and more impressed with my future colleagues. From the small experiences I've had, I've gathered that nearly everyone seems to be truly good-hearted, affable, personable, and kind. There is a definite abundance of younger Jews, especially those just out of college. I can't wait to get to know more people and hear what drove them to such a unique profession as this.

I still get a little teary-eyed when I think of the life we left behind in the Bay Area. I miss my family tremendously, (Skype-ing with all three of them two nights ago was a hoot) but more than anything else I just miss our apartment, and our life in the Gourmet Ghetto. I miss my jobs at the synagogues, I miss my kids, I miss the glorious beauty of the Berkeley hills, and I miss the familiarity of our life there. It pains me to think we'll never have that life again. Even though I know we have an amazing life ahead of us, it's hard to look back on something wonderful knowing it will never be exactly the same.

Le sigh.

Adam is still being absolutely, incredibly wonderful. I cannot believe how quickly and painlessly he adjusted, how personable and outgoing he's been with my classmates, and how devoted he has been as a partner. He stayed home all day yesterday to set up our internet and supervise the apartment repairs, all the while having a smile planted firmly on his face. He's won over the hearts of all those I've socialized with, having impressed them with his cooking, his animation, and his guitar playing. I look at him and feel so fortunate, so blessed, to have him in my life.

Peace from the Middle East.

-Jaclyn

First Days in Jerusalem...

Shalom, Chaverim.

To say the past several days have been intense would be a tremendous understatement. It's been so intense, so hectic, so overwhelming, and so hot here, I still cannot process it all.

Altogether, the past few days I've felt like a fish out of water. Having been to Israel twice before, it doesn't feel as foreign as it once did. But the major transition, from Berkeley to LA to Israel, from twentysomething young professional to graduate student, has just taken a lot out of me emotionally. I feel like I'm trying to find my footing, and I know that I will.

We arrived on Wednesday afternoon after the longest flight in the history of the universe. It just wouldn't end! We spent fifteen hours on El AL flight 6, crammed into the tiniest seat, surrounded by Israelis who thought it was perfectly normal to kibbitz and shmooze in the aisles and by the emergency exits throughout the entire flight. It just went on forever.

When we finally arrived in Tel Aviv, it felt great. Great to get off the plane, great to be in Israel, great to get all our luggage, great to meet up with Adam's cousin Oshrat who was kind enough to pick us up... it just felt great.

And then Oshrat informed us that we had to stick around the airport for a little while, as there had been an "incident," or "pigua," in Jerusalem. A man drove a tractor into a crowd, killing and injuring many people. The roads were most likely still closed.

So there we were, our "Bruchim Haba'im l'Yisrael" welcome mat practically pulled out from under us, wondering if it was even safe to be here, and if this was a precursor for the rest of my year here. Surrounded by Israelis, engulfed in the intense heat, it was a strangely odd feeling to have fresh off the flight.

We eventually made it to Jerusalem, to our new home on Ramban street. The apartment itself is an interesting mix of fantastic and frustrating. The landlords are wonderful, sweet, attentive, and their English is perfect. The apartment is very modern by Israeli standards, and relatively clean. But the apartment has not ONE closet, it's not finished yet, there were problems that didn't get taken care of before we arrived, there's a seemingly inexplicable abundance of furniture; more than the apartment itself can handle.

So, it's just kind of a bizarre situation. If the landlords were awful this would all make sense, but the fact that they're so accomodating at least gives us hope that this stuff will get fixed and worked out in the near future. I'm sure it will. But, it just sucks after all the work Lauren (my rooommate) and I put into the search, the lease re-write, the money wiring, and everything. Just something we have to move past, I guess.

So now onto school... so far, I've spent several hours socializing and meeting my fellow classmates, getting acquainted with the school and surrounding neighborhood, and ever-so-slightly grasping what my future has in store.

As far as my classmates go, it's a surpising mix of very similar people. It feels like the majority of new students are straight out of college; friendly, affable, personable, good-looking young Jews. There are a handful of others like me, people who took a year or two to work after college, and a small peppering of older, second-career students. Apparently we're one of the smallest classes in the past decade, and the higher-ups at HUC are concerned at that. Only time will tell how we manage to bond and work together as a class; I'll be sure to update on that.

Finally, I want to say a few works about my Adam. I cannot begin to express how incredible, supportive, and amazing he has been since the very moment we started this journey. He has simply blown me away the past several days. From the moment we landed in Israel, he's had a smile on his face. His calmness has soothed my anxiety, his incredible personality has won over the hearts of every single one of my classmates, and he's just been absolutely amazing. I cannot say enough about how wonderful he is.

By the time he leaves in September, I think I'll feel much more comfortable, less anxious and overwhelmed, and all-around more settled in my life here. But for now, I feel incredibly fortunate to have him by my side, taking care of me and keeping me going. He is an amazing partner, and I want everyone in the blogosphere to know that!

Anyone who reads this, know that I miss you tremendously. I miss California, my friends and family, and everyone back home.

Keep in touch!!

-Jaclyn