J.Fro in J.Lem

And Just Like That... It was Done

2009-05-21T12:21:00.003+03:00

This particular post makes me pine for the days of Live Journal, when you could use a little figure to denote your mood and choose a song that expressed how you were feeling. Nevertheless, I'm going to break that mold and tell you my mood AND my song RIGHT NOW.

Mood: Anxiously Elated

Song: "Even Better than the Real Thing," by U2 (Achtung Baby)

About an hour and a half ago, I completed my first year of rabbinical school. Final final finished, every last paper turned in, goodbyes said, every necessary piece of closure completed. I'm kind of in shock, and not really sure what to do with myself, but I'm happy and relieved to be done, and very much looking forward to going home.

It's a little bit unsettling and bizarre to be done; to be walking around an apartment that's half-packed and fully messy, thinking about the last-minute things I have to do before I leave Saturday night. I'm a bit in limbo, but I'm also in celebration mode. As we say in Hebrew, it's a little gam v'gam.

I cannot believe that I made it through this year. Literally. Can. Not. Believe. What. I. Just. Did. When Adam left back in September I remember him telling me how much he looked forward to me coming home in May because I would feel so accomplished; that if I could make it through this, I could make it through anything. And you know what? He was one hundred percent right.

This was by far and away the toughest year of my life. I don't think I've ever been so challenged by so many different elements - by school, by people, by Judaism, by Israel, by my own health; it seemed this year that every time I thought I'd figured one thing out, something else would pop up in its place and go "Oh, hey you! Yeah, you! LOOK AT ME I AM TALKING TO YOU! FIGURE ME OUT RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I WILL PUNISH YOU MUAH HA HA HA!" (That's my way of explaining the ubiquitous menace in my Israeli life. Deal with it.)

And I never thought I'd say this, but I am so grateful that this was not an easy year. I'm incredibly appreciative of what it's taught me. I'm proud of myself for sticking it out and making it through eleven months in an entirely different universe, dealing with each challenge thrown my way and learning and growing as a person in the process. I'm proud of myself for doing it all on my own - an independent woman - without my beloved Jew Fro by my side. And while it wasn't a perfect year, it was an amazing one. I know that I will never, ever be able to relive what I just did in any other place, in any other capacity, in any other time of my life. I feel incredibly blessed to have had this year here.

And so I thank you, Israel. Thank you HUC. Thank you Ramban Street, and Wolfson Medical Center, and Asaf Gershon my laundry man, and the fresh juice guy across from Supersol. Thank you Shabbat, and thank you TaNaKh, and thank you Hebrew. Thank you Ben Yehuda Street, and Zuni and Link and Chakra, and thank you Bar-On in the Old City for providing my family with Jew-y gifts. Thank you Tel Aviv and Haifa and the Galil; thank you Negev and Arava and Petra, and especially Binyamina. Todah Rabah l'ha kol.

Thank you, all of you, who kept up with this journey of mine. Thank you for your love, your support, and above all else, for making me laugh.

I'm off to get a massage. My body and soul deserve it!

With love,

Jaclyn

You say goodbye, I say hello?

2009-05-16T10:58:00.006+03:00

Well, it's the beginning of the end of the beginning here in Jerusalem.

Hard to believe that one week from today I'll have full suitcases by the front door, a nearly-empty apartment, and a one-way ticket to Los Angeles in my hand.

It's hard to process the whole thing because there are just so many emotions to feel. I'm ready, I'm not ready. I'm thrilled, I'm devastated. I'm excited for the next chapter and terrified of re-integrating into reality. And I'm sifting through all these emotions while attempting to study for finals and write these papers. And packing up all my crap.

Anyway, rather than spend a full page blabbing on about my emotions, I decided to share pictures instead. So enjoy.

This week's faculty-student soccer match. I'm sad to say, the teachers kicked our asses. And rather surprised to admit that, too.

The uber-hot cheering section

HUC's #1 cheerleader, future Rabbi Amy Goodman

At last night's final banquet, with this year's surrogate boyfriend, Joel

One of the MOST awkward pictures of all time: Leslie and I looking cute and hiding Nancy behind us. Oh well.

With beautiful Lisa B

Scrunching into a photo with Les, Leah, and Lisa. I love my L's!

With the world's best roommate, Lauren. It kind of looks like I'm crushing her, but don't worry! It was all in good fun.

Meredith and Ari performing one of their smash hits/rewritten words-to-Disney-songs at the final banquet last night. Mer's face pretty much encapsulates my year!

So there you go. Now back to the trenches.

Love,

Jaclyn

Shabbaton in Binyamina

2009-05-10T22:36:00.005+03:00

This past weekend was one of the best I've had in Israel. I spent it in Binyamina, a small town on the coast, south of Haifa. It was there that our Parallel Lives group of students and soldiers had our final Shabbaton together.

First mifgash: an intense discussion about community and world Jewry

Truth be told, few of us were looking forward to the Shabbaton. It came a mere week before our finals start, two weeks before many of us are scheduled to go home. Everyone's stressed and frenzied, and the thought of going up north to a foreign place made us all a little bit meshuggie. Yet somehow, we arrived in Binyamina on Friday morning refreshed and ready; we were greeted with an insane amount of love and respect from the community, and all of us - soldiers and students - had an awesome time.

With my host mother, Orit Orr

What made it so amazing? Well, I think it started with the natural beauty of Binyamina. It felt a lot like a sleepier, quieter, less fancy-shmancy Santa Barbara. Arriving there I felt so much lighter and happier; getting out of Jerusalem will do that to anyone. So right from the start, it felt good; it felt like a Shabbaton.

Binyamina residents are unbelievably kind, and it's a small enough town that everyone seems to know and love each other. The family that hosted us (me and Rona, a female Tzahal soldier raised in Tel Aviv) was so fabulous. They were just awesome, lovely people. Orit and her husband Boaz had a warm, beautiful home. Within ten minutes I was in love with both of them, and felt totally comfortable in their house. They invited us in and fed us boatloads of delicious, homemade food. They wanted to know all about us - who we were and what we did. They were fascinated and supported my decision to become a rabbi. They were so alive, warm, and kind. It was the first time this entire year I felt welcome - truly welcome - in an Israeli home.

With Boaz, Orit, and soldier Rona

The programs were mostly put together by Maya, who coordinates the program from the Israeli side, and the various residents of Binyamina who volunteered their time out of interest and generosity. LuAnne and I have coordinated the program the whole year from the HUC side, so it was great to be able to simply be participants. The events were planned beautifully. They were meaningful and significant and not over-the-top. We were also able to simply have downtime in our host families' homes. Which, obvi, I was thrilled to have.

This weekend was the first time I was able to look back and understand what a tremendous experience Parallel Lives has been. I was also able to witness the impact it's had on students and soldiers. We each came away from this yearlong program understanding each other better, having learned about each others worlds. We became friends, we became a community.

The group says goodbye... for now

The most important part of Parallel Lives, for me, was building a bridge between Israeli elite unit soldiers from all over the country and a select group of aspiring clergy members in North America's Reform Movement. In a time when Israel's Progressive Movement is struggling to find its voice, its identity, and its legitimacy, I feel that I contributed some small part to the cause. I feel that I did something to help bring the beauty of Reform Judaism to the Israeli masses. Hearing what the soldiers learned about us, and how they were impacted through this program, made me realize that we did make a difference; we did achieve some wonderful goals throughout the year.

And so, I do hope that these relationships and conversations continue, and am confident that they will. Some soldiers will visit us in LA in the fall as the final piece of the program. They will come to our turf and observe how we live our lives. By then, hopefully, we'll all be settled and comfortable in our new lives in Los Angeles. (For which I am getting incredibly excited)

Six Years?!?!?!

Finally, yesterday was my six (yes, SIX) year anniversary with my dear darling Jew Fro. Thanks to the suave skills of my dear friend Lisa, I received a beautiful bouquet from my beloved Fro this afternoon. What a mensch, that Adam! I cannot wait to get back to California, back to family and friends and especially to he man who honors my deep love of fresh flowers. (And 30 Rock)

In two weeks I'll be home, and all this will be a distant memory. Thank goodness I've got a blog to keep the virtual momentos.

Love,

Jaclyn

Nearing the end...

2009-05-02T16:20:00.005+03:00

Today, May 2nd, marks exactly ten months since I arrived in Israel for the start of this journey. I de-planed the El Al jet sweaty and disoriented, Adam my love by my side. We arrived in Jerusalem several hours later, to an apartment I could not fathom living in, to a neighborhood filled with religious Jews, to a city that didn't look at all like I remembered it. I was an emotional wreck, overwhelmed and in shock and in total disbelief that I would actually be able to accomplish what was being asked of me. In those first few days, I walked around in a haze; my heart ached for Berkeley, for home, for normalcy.

And now, I've spent just shy of one year here. I'm three weeks away from the finish line. So much has happened, I can't even process it. I've had the most incredible, challenging, and emotionally stirring adventure. I've pushed myself in every which way a person can be pushed. I've done the vast majority of it all without my beloved partner, with whom I belong, by my side. And I simply cannot believe it's coming to a close, or how much I will miss this life I've grown accostomed to.

As we start to pack up our lives here in Jerusalem and look towards uncertain futures back in the states, I find myself torn. On the one hand, I've been ready to go home since January. You could not get me on that sixteen-hour nonstop flight faster. And yet on the other, I am so deeply saddened that this life will be completely over. End chapter. Book closed. Shut forever.

Never again will I have the opportunities I've had. Never again will I be able to live in Jerusalem - the tortured, divided, and beautiful epicenter of my religion. And never again will I have the privilege of learning in this particular environment or capacity.

So, it's safe to say on this cloudy but warm Shabbat afternoon, as the weekend descends to the start of our penultimate school week, that I'm finding a part of myself tearing more and more in two with each passing day: the part of me that aches for home, and the part of me that will always be, strangely, connected to Jerusalem.

-Jaclyn

Yamim Noraim shel Aviv

2009-04-29T23:12:00.005+03:00

Yom ha Zikaron tekes (ceremony) at the Gymnasia Rehavia high school

If there was ever a day on which a person could get the most pure, undistilled picture of Israel, a day in which everything about who they are and why they are who they are was on full display, it would undoubtedly be Yom ha Zikaron.

Yom ha Zikaron literally means "Day of the Memory," from the root זכר - remember. It is Israel's day of remembering its fallen soldiers - their heroism, their devotion to the state of Israel. In recent years it has also become a day to remember victims of terror attacks. Yom ha Zikaron is a day so unlike any other; a day where the entire country comes to a standstill and remembers, observes, and expresses its otherwise unexpressed emotions.

Last week was Yom ha Shoah, the first of the three springtime Yamim Noraim - days of Awe. That particular day commemorates the Holocaust. Last Monday, I was fortunate to attend the national ceremony held at Yad Vashem. It was a tremendously moving experience, especially when you think about how intertwined the Holocaust and the inception of the state of Israel are. While the events of the Holocaust did not ultimately create Israel, they certainly expedited an already decades-long process to form a Jewish homeland. So the connection between the two is quite deep, and quite powerful.

Exactly one week later, the country ushers in Yom ha Zikaron. It begins with the most chilling sound one can hear - the sound of an air raid siren echoing throughout the country. It literally cuts right through you, and all you can do is stop and listen and bow your head. The same one goes off on Yom ha Shoah, but for some reason on Yom ha Zikaron it just felt different. On both days, you watch traffic come to a standstill, people get out of their cars, and stand at attention. I cannot imagine a more perfect picture of national unity and identity.

Yom ha Zikaron is such a hugely significant day here in Israel. Every single citizen is connected to the army in some way, and nearly every single person has lost family or a friend, or both. So literally, the entire population of Israel is implicated in this day - no one is immune.

Yesterday, after leading services at HUC, we made our way over to Gymnasia Rehavia, one of the oldest high schools in Jerusalem. On Yom ha Zikaron, the school puts together a ceremony for the community. There were speeches and songs, and then students recalled the names of the 138 graduates who have died while serving in the army, or in a terror attack. It was literally bone chilling to watch high school students - not even eighteen years old - carry out the whole thing. To think that they know in their minds, in just a few short years they themselves will be in the army and serving their country... well, it just blows my mind.

Graves at Har Herzl Cemetary

After the ceremony, Leslie and I headed over to Har Herzl Military Cemetary to observe - to see how things are over there on Yom ha Zikaron. It was absolutely breathtaking and moving. Every single grave had flowers, gifts, flags, money, poems, photographs - you name it. People had clearly come to pay their respects. Family and friends left multiple bouquets on single graves. Some people were still there, praying or reading or simply talking to the gravesite, as if that person were still there.

The most recently added graves

Perhaps the most emotionally gut-wrenching part of the day was finding our way to the big blue tent. Underneath said tent were a greater collection of people and flowers than the other sections, so Leslie and I investigated. Turns out, this particular area is for the most recent deaths. There were soldiers buried there who were killed as recently as January '09, in Gaza.

I cannot even express what I felt walking through that section. There were so many people - families and friends just sitting, crying, laughing, eating, remembering, recounting the people they lost not too long ago. It tore my heart out. Especially when the groups of soldiers - in full uniform, no less - came together to one grave to visit their friend and comrade. I just... I can't even fathom it. I can't compare it to anything. I can only sit back and recall the experience with pain and respect and tears.

It's just so very Israel. Having had the experience of coordinating Parallel Lives this year, I feel I've gotten a much better understanding of the mandatory army service. I've come to see how much Tzahal - the IDF - impacts this entire country, creates and molds and shapes these people. Yom ha Zikaron makes it all coalesce into this one perfectly understandable little package -this major moment of clarity in which you understand, you get it. Of course, to translate what you get on a blog is much more difficult than one would imagine, so I'll just let the pictures do what they do.

And just as the powers that be planned, as soon as Yom ha Zikaron closes out, the country welcomes Yom ha Atzma'ut, Israel's Independence Day and 61st birthday.

Watch out! A young girl gets creamed (Shaving Cream-ed) on Ben Yehuda

Transitioning immediately from somber to celebratory, the entire country turns into one big party for Yom ha Atzma'ut. Last night, we headed downtown to watch fireworks, hear live music, dance rikudei am, and join the masses of people in toasting Israel. It was actually a lot of fun, and it was quite thrilling to see Israelis out and about, laughing and having a great night.

Then today, we did what all Israelis do on Yom ha Atzma'ut: Barbequed.

Getting our BBQ on...

Lisa and Deana in Yemin Moshe park

With the BFFs, Lisa and Leslie

All in all, while Yom ha Atzma'ut was such a stark contrast to Yom ha Zikaron, they were both really amazing days to experience. Had I arrived shortly before these Yamim Nora'im last year, I would not have understood them at all. Having been here for nearly eleven months, I just get it. I understand how it all works and comes together as one communal, national thing.

I'm starting to get tremendously nostalgic and sad about the idea that in 24 short days, I'll be back in California for good. I'm ready, I'm not ready, I'm happy, I'm devastated. I can't believe this adventure is coming to a close. And at the same time, it has been one hell of a year!

These coming days and weeks will undoubtedly be filled with many blog-worthy moments. I'll do my best to keep the blogosphere in the loop, and will see you all in person very soon.

Love from Jlem,

Jaclyn

Petra, Spectacular Petra

2009-04-19T23:51:00.006+03:00

The Treasury of Petra, as viewed through the Siq (narrow canyon)

There are times in our lives when we experience something so incredible, so unique, so breathtaking, that it resonates within us and stays there forever.

Petra, the ancient city carved into rose-colored stone in the middle of Jordan, is one of those somethings.

I was incredibly fortunate to visit Petra this past weekend, during the final days of my Pesach vacation. I was also incredibly fortunate to have a cousin living in Aqaba, the resort town of Jordan that lies just across the Red Sea from Eilat. So Ari, Lauren, and myself went down to Eilat on Thursday, crossed the border between Israel and Jordan on foot, and spent the weekend at Cousin Rich's swanky apartment in the 5th district of Aqaba. Early Friday morning we were picked up by a lovely taxi driver named Hatem, and he drove us to Petra for our five-hour experience. We returned for the remainder of an awesome weekend in Aqaba.

With Ari and Lauren in front of the Treasury.

Petra, you may recognize, is the facade of the final scene of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," one of my favorite movies. Whether from that movie, or from simple promotion by the Jordanian government (who clearly regard Petra as the jewel in their country's crown) it has become the second most-visited "new wonder of the world," just behind the Great Wall of China.

There are few words to adequately describe Petra, and the pictures just can't do it justice. It's such a spectacular place, and there is nothing else like it on earth. It's an ancient city entirely carved out of rock! It's massive! There is so much to see and do and experience, and you climb up onto these structures and you hike up mountains and run and play and it's just so, so incredible. The setting of it all is majestic - you are literally in the middle of the Jordanian desert, with red sand and rock everywhere. The rock itself is stunning, and it changes color throughout the day as the light hits it appropriately.

The Siq, a narrow canyon that you walk through to enter the city, in the early morning...

And again in the early afternoon.

There was something quite magical and unbelivable about Petra. It almost seemed like a fairy tale. You just can't comprehend how something could be created like that so many years ago. The story goes that the city was created by the Nabateans thousands of years ago, and was a stronghold in the Arava valley. The Negev desert, which I visited with school a few weeks ago, lies on the other side of the hills.

More Petra prettiness

Despite its location in what was once the Biblical Land, Petra has no religious significance anymore. Its sites were clearly dedicated to religious worship, however. The Monastery, which is up a steep hike I simply could not do (legs are still healing) is a real reminder of the centrality of worship back in ancient times.

Practicing my air guitar on what I deemed to be the Stairway to Heaven

The path leading to the High Place of Sacrifice

Petra is extraordinary. Even though we were there five hours, I could have easily gone back and done some further exploring. However, it's not easy! It's a lot of moving up and down and hiking in the hot desert sun. But it's just incredible. You're surrounded by people from all over the world - you literally hear dozens of languages around you as you walk through the park. You're seeing things with your own eyes you could never, ever see anywhere else. It just blows you away. I am SO glad we got to go - that we made it happen with only five weeks to go in the program. I feel privileged to have said I visited Petra.

With Cousin Rich on the balcony of his Aqaba apartment, overlooking the Red Sea

It was also very cool to visit Aqaba, a city in a major period of transition. It is quickly becoming a major resort town, as it is the only city in all of Jordan on the Sea. There is a tremendous amount of real estate invested in its growth. My cousin Rich has lived there for about a year and a half, doing some form of community development. He works with local residents and helps build structures for organization and local leadership. It's actually quite inspiring to hear what he's doing, and to meet the people who he works with and knows. And it was great to see him and spend time with him.

Crossing the border was a hoot and a half. It's the most relaxed, strange, bizarre experience. You pay your shekels, get your passport stamped by Israel, walk 150 yards of "No-Man's Land," and then you're in Jordan! It's the funniest thing. Slash... kind of creepy. I wish I had taken pictures of the absurdity of it all, but I don't think it's legal to do that. Regardless, just picture something really funny, me laughing while walking between the two countries and sweating, because it was really, really hot.

Once you get into Aqaba, you really see that you're just not in Israel anymore. It's very much a moderate Arab country. Everything is in Arabic and English, people are dressed conservatively and traditionally, and there's just a totally different feeling there. Aqaba itself felt like a strange mixture of touristy and local-y. We went from dinner in an uppity touristy area to fruit shakes (absolutely delicious fresh fruit) in a very local hubbub-y area. The switch was very apparent. It was fascinating to see how people in Aqaba live there lives. They were all very nice, polite, and interesting. Their approach to women, however, was a little unsettling. I felt very much aware of my femininity while there. You just get treated differently, talked to differently, and viewed differently. It's hard to describe why. It actually made me miss Israel a little bit.

All in all, the whole weekend was a great success. We had a fantastic time, and all the details seemed to work out flawlessly. We made it back to Jerusalem late last night, in time to start school again this morning. It's now five weeks 'til the finish line, and I can't believe it. The time has come to say goodbye, but it won't be an easy goodbye to say. At all.

Until next time,

Jaclyn

Pesach with the Parents

2009-04-14T15:39:00.007+03:00

I just spent the most lovely ten days with my two loving parents, Lenny and Jill. They arrived in Tel Aviv on April 4 and stayed through the first night of Pesach here in Jerusalem. Then on April 9, we headed to the Greek island of Crete for five days of sun, fun, and adventure! They're headed back to the states right now, and in 40 days I will join them back in Los Angeles permanently. The countdown has begun!

Hanging out in Ein Kerem, a quaint town in West Jerusalem

What can I say about my parents? They're both incredibly good, funny human beings. They love me and my brother to pieces. They are so incredibly supportive, and both came separately to visit me in Israel this year. They're just wonderful people, and I adore them. As nutty as we are, we have a great time together.

Mom and I on Mamilla Mall, before purchasing a new (professional) tallit for me!

Given that this was their third time in Israel, we had a pretty mellow time exploring Jerusalem. The real fun came when we did a day trip to the north. Our destination was Tzfat, and the other highlights included Rosh Pina for lunch and Zichron Ya'akov for dinner. Each time I head up to the Galilee, I'm reminded of two things: 1) how strikingly beautiful Israel can be, and 2) how much Israel looks like Southern California.

In the Tzfat Artist Colony

My parents had never been to Tzfat, so it was cool for them to wander the streets and visit the artist colony. The weather was perfect; warm, but not hot. Clear as crystal. The views were stunning, and it was very relaxing to be out of the Pesach-infused chaos of Jerusalem. And while Rosh Pina is a bit of a snoozefest, Zichron Ya'akov is a fantastic little area with the best pedestrian mall in the country. There's lots of good, cute shops and delicious eateries. The people are mellow and friendly, it's near the ocean, and it's a great place to go. The last time I was there was on our first overnight tiyul back in September; just before High Holidays, right after the start of fall semester. It's shocking to realize how far we've come; how the end is drawing near on this Israel adventure.

With our proper Pesach placecards

The holiday of Pesach descended upon Jerusalem like the Angel of Death searching for the Egyptian firstborn. I say that in the most positive way possible! In reality, Jerusalem morphed into the happiest, prettiest little place as people - religious and otherwise - ran around town preparing themselves for the holiday. People in our neighborhood burned their chametz (bread products) and raided the aisles of Supersol for Kosher-l'-Pesach goods. Tourists came from everywhere - Jews and non-Jews alike - and turned the town into a veritable Jewish Disneyland. It was actually a really good feeling, as opposed to other holidays where the mood turns totally somber and people get really, really irritable.

The supermarkets covered the vast majority of their goods that weren't Kosher for Pesach, and have remained that way since the holiday began. Everywhere you look, people are adapting their lifestyle to fit the chag, right on down to my favorite sushi restaurant completely changing its menu for the week of Pesach. It's another example of how fascinating this country can be; how different it is to be in a place where the entire country is mandated to live by a certain Jewish code. Perhaps because I'm looking ahead at my very near departure, it doesn't bother me as much as it did in the past. Instead of rejecting the religious imposition, I'm actually welcoming it and examining it and finding some interesting tidbits in it. Israel, for all its 'ish, never ceases to fascinate me, that's for sure.

Just in case we forgot each others' names after ten months together!

For the first night of Pesach, my dear friends Meredith and Joel coordinated a communal seder at Meredith and Lisa's apartment. Both Meredith and Joel were hosting their parental visitors, so with my mom and dad, plus Lisa, Jimmy, Ari, and Lisa's friend Micah, we came together to celebrate the holiday together. It was a mish-mash, everyone-takes-a-role seder, and it was great fun. The food was delicious, the room looked great, and it was really special to celebrate our freedom in Jerusalem. After so many years of shouting "next year in Jerusalem!" at my Passover seders, it was truly special, albeit unique, to be here for the holiday.

Welcome to Greece!

Early the next morning we headed to the island of Crete on holiday. We knew very little about it, except that my trusted travel agent Brigitte could get us a great package deal. So, we went armed with a couple travel books and Lisa and Leslie's recommendations. (They went in August) It turned out to be a fantastic, interesting, beautiful place, and I'm glad we went together.

Crete is a massive island. Its capital city, Heraklion, is just as modern as bustling as San Francisco. It had all the necessities of any major city: trendy, cosmopolitan bars and restaurants, high-style and haute couture shops, and plenty of things to keep one busy. We didn't stay in Heraklion, but just the thought that we could have access to the modern necessities of a major city kind of shook me. I mean, it's an island in the middle of the Mediterranean. Who knew? There's also the second-largest city, Chania, which is both beautiful and has a rich history. Crete itself has an amazing history.

Mom and Dad lunching in the pretty city of Chania

In Chania, near Eitz Chayim, the restored 15th-century synagogue that served the Jews of Crete up until the Holocaust.

A plaque in Eitz Chayim bearing the names of Chania's Jews who died when their deportation ship was accidentally sunk by a British submarine in 1944

We explored Heraklion and Chania, plus the other towns of Rethymnon and Agios Nikolaus, and a small village called Archaneus. We visited Knossos Palace, which was supposedly the seat of Minoan culture 4,000 years ago. We ate delicious, fresh, presumably local food. We sat on the beach. We had a ridiculously zippy Fiat rental car. (I still maintain that they're really "Firts," not "Fiats") We just had a really fun time together, the three of us. It was a wonderful time. BUT it was truly incomplete without my brother Andrew. We really missed him! (And it would have been extra-awesome to have Adam there, too)

Mom and me with the town of Agios Nikolas behind us

What really struck us about Crete was both its natural beauty and the character of the people. The island obviously has beautiful beaches, but there's a tremendous series of mountain ranges, even some peaks still with snow on them. As we drove across the island, we were each struck by the quaint charm and beauty of the Mediterranean hillsides and the cute little villages. It was so peaceful and calming.

Dad, Mom, Me, and my giant sun hat in Agios Nikolas

And the people - I cannot say enough about how nice they are. I think that altogether, Crete survives on its tourism. As this was literally the first weekend of the summer season, a lot of hotels and restaurants were still closed and boarded up for winter. Everyone who we interacted with was so happy to have visitors, and so welcoming, accomodating, and happy to see us. Crete was a lot like Israel in its live-and-let-live/whatever-goes attitude, but in a much more mellow and relaxed way. We loved it, and I encourage everyone to go visit Greece!

A final dinner at Zuni in Jerusalem

As we landed at Ben Gurion yesterday my heart started to swell as I realized the next time I go to that airport, it will be my last. The adventure is coming to a close, and I'm quite emotional about it. Similar to the way I felt as we bid farewell to Israel upon the conclusion of our NFTY trip back in 2000, a part of me feels at a tremendous loss over leaving so soon. While I constantly remind the people I love how mentally "done" I am, and how quickly I want to get back to my old life, I think that deep down, the magnet effect of Israel has got me good. I'm attached to this country, for better or for worse. These past ten months have been incredible; an amazing learning experience for me. The people I care about here, my teachers and my studies; they all mean so much to me. I can't believe that in less than six weeks, it will all be over.

With a little bit of a glisten in my eye, I bid you farewell... but only for the time being. The Pesach adventure continues on Thursday when Ari, Lauren and myself head down to Eilat and Petra for, presumably, the final travel hurrah of the year.

Many hugs and Chag Sameach,

Jaclyn

Desert Rosenbloom

2009-04-04T14:58:00.004+03:00

Here's a confession: I love the desert.

It's kind of an unexpected thing, I know. I don't seem like the desolate-landscape-sand-and-sun-and-extreme-temperatures type. But I really do love the solitude and beauty of the desert, and that stems from my first encounter with the Negev on my NFTY trip back in 2000. I vividly remember sleeping out under the stars - the millions of bright, beautiful stars - and hiking through a haunting, candlelit canyon at night. It was peaceful and quiet and gorgeous, and I loved it.

This past weekend HUC took us on a tiyul to the Negev, and it was fabulous. It came right on the heels of my fantastic French adventure, so I basically got one entire week off, and that is always awesome.

Photo Credit: Sir Ari Lorge

We stayed on Kibbutz Yahel, which is associated with the Reform Movement. It's a great, mellow place. The people who live there now mostly came to Israel from the States back in the 1970s - when the Kibbutzim really hit their stride. Many of them were active in NFTY and their own Jewish communities, and decided that life was more enticing on a kibbutz in the middle of the desert. They were all good-hearted people, if just a little bit strange. Life just moves slower on Kibbutzim, and Kibbutzniks are a special, unique breed. (In a good way)

In the Kibbutz Lotan organic garden.

We also had the pleasure of visiting Kibbutz Lotan, just down the road from Yahel. It's a truly unique place, and their entire emphasis is on sustainable eco-living. They use water-free toilets and live in green-friendly bio-domes. They have a Green Apprenticeship program, which teaches people how to live green-er, and take better care of the Earth. It's really a fascinating thing to observe and visit, though I don't think I could ever live there.

Solar-powered oven!

At Kibbutz Lotan, we were given a presentation by a certain Kibbutz member who grew up in California and went to Berkeley. I think he was attempting a campaign for making aliyah, but his entire speech came off insulting and condascending. I looked around and realized that almost every single face was unified in a look of both disgust and "hell-no-I-won't!" It was interesting to observe how we each reacted and recoiled both to the idea of totally uprooting ourselves and committing to a permanent life in Israel, or even in the desert. However, after the presentation we all agreed we have the utmost respect for people who can sustain that kind of lifestyle. I guess that's where the line lays: if you can come away with a degree of respect, yet know it's not for you, I guess that's pretty mature. Or maybe just progressive.

A little eco-dome hut.

All in all, it was a great tiyul. It was fascinating to visit the Kibbutzim, it was incredible to see what they're doing down there, and it was so relaxing to just veg out in the desert. I'm glad I went, I'm glad the weather was awesome, and I'm glad to share the pictures with you.

Somehow, I've reached the point in my journey where the parents have arrived, Pesach is around the corner, and I am looking ahead at seven weeks left in Israel. It's nothing! I cannot believe it. It feels like only yesterday I first arrived in this apartment and freaked out about this new life in Israel. Yet it also feels like nine years have passed, aging me to the point of no return. It's great to have the parents here again, together, and I look forward to five days in Greece next week. Not to mention my first (and presumably, only) time in Israel for Pesach. I'm excited.

Lots of Love, and Chag Sameach!

Jaclyn

Paris, je t'aime!

2009-03-25T15:51:00.010+02:00

Mon Petit Ami avec Moi a Paris!

Ah, Paris. It's everything a city should be. Breathtakingly beautiful, romantic, cultured, diverse, and oh-so-delicious. I visited Paris with my family in 1997 following our ten-day trip to Israel. And I was incredibly fortunate to return this past weekend for a rendezvous with my beloved Adam. The trip came at precisely the right time. My feet have finally started to heal properly, and I was able to walk around Paris with almost no issue. (Had to sit down and rest from time to time, like all eighty-year-old women) And, it was just the most incredible feeling to be wrapped in the love of my Adam, having not seen him since my January trip home two months ago. I adore the man, I love traveling with him, and it was so delightful to just be together in the City of Lights.

It was an incredible four days, though they were simply not enough. I don't think a lifetime would be enough to explore Paris. But we definitely got a hefty dose of France, and I will attempt to summarize the adventure through the following pictures.

Our trip began at the Eiffel Tower, where all decent Paris trips should. The Eiffel Tower is every bit as romantic and captivating as people say. It's really an amazing thing to behold, and to kiss in front of.

On our final day, Adam convinced me to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. While the view was intense, my fear of heights was almost more so. So I spent a considerable amount of time grasping the rail and breathing heavily. Still, it was pretty gorgeous!

The Seine, which splits Paris in two (Left and Right bank, respectively) is a sight to behold. Almost every single building along the river is ornate and gorgeous, and espouses Parisian architecture.

Here's the River again, postcard-pretty.

The Paris Opera, which, I believe, is the setting for Phantom of the Opera, of which I am not a fan. Still, from the outside, the Opera is freaking beautiful.

This is the Basilica de Sacre-Coeur in Montmarte. It's a really beautiful hilltop church that looks out over all of Paris. It's in an area that's very quaint and lovely and special. We ate dinner there on our final night, at a little hole-in-the-wall called Jardin d'en Face. It was delicious!

This, dear friends, is Notre Dame Cathedral. It's impressive, it's built on an island, and the interior looks like every single European church we've ever visited in our travels. Still, the exterior is pretty awesome, and the famous gargoyles are terrifying.

My partner Adam manages to turn his jumping pictures into works of art. Here, he's jumping at the Musee d'Orangerie, a lovely little museum near the Louvre (which we didn't visit, because it's boring and overrated)

However, you bet we took a picture in front of the Louvre! For the memories, y'all.

Trying to get in on the romance with a statue in front of L'Orangerie.

This is the Musee D'Orsay, one of the coolest and most fantastic museums I've ever visited. It's housed in a former train station, has dozens of different levels, and lots of fantastic art from all different genres. Definitely the cultural highlight of our visit!

Each time Adam and I visit a foreign country, there's inevitably at least one long-lost cousin thrice removed who Adam's mom has been in contact with for years. It's uber impressive! Paris was no exception: here we are with Adrian Bondy, a mathematics professor at the University of Paris, connected to Adam on his mother's side.

Here we are at the Arc de Triomphe at night. I don't know the history of the Arc, and am too lazy to Wikipedia it. So if you're curious, take yourself over there.

This is the Metro, Paris' intricate and incredible subway system. We basically took it everywhere we went, and it was really convenient and easy to use. But what we really liked was observing all the different kinds of Parisians that live in the city. Taking the Metro proved that Paris is an incredibly diverse city: ethnically, financially, stylistically. The subway provides an excellent view on the culture you're visiting.

Adam and his cheese! The fromage flowed like water at every restaurant we went to. Here's Adam at Les Ancetres Galouises, a restaurant on the Ile-de-St.-Louis that gave us one of the most incredible meals of our lives. And just before the dessert course came our cheese, making Adam a happy camper! Too bad I'm just not a cheese fan. But thank goodness for Lactaid!! (For Adam's benefit, and for mine!)

So that was our adventure! It was truly memorable. I'm glad we could share it with all of you. In the next couple of weeks, I'll be finishing up a ton of work, celebrating Pesach with my parents in Israel, then heading with them to Greece for five days, and culminating the travel extravaganza with a trip to Petra, Jordan. It's a definitive highlight as I look to these final two months in Israel.

Until the next adventure, I'm sending all my love from Jlem.

Jaclyn

On Love, Loss, and Healing

2009-03-15T19:20:00.008+02:00

Sunset in Tel Aviv

These past few weeks have been emotionally turbulent, to say the least. My health woes have found me bouncing back and forth between four separate doctors to figure out what exactly was going on with my legs/ankles/feet. It has finally started to improve. After finally seeing a rheumotologist this afternoon, it has been declared that my immune system, while fighting off a head cold a few weeks back, started attacking the joints in my legs and ankles. It happens sometimes, and people are fine. I'm healing, and I'm fine. I feel like an eighty-year-old woman, but I'm fine.

However, the emotional scar of four weeks of fear and anxiety has left me exhausted and extremely pensive. From the very beginning of this whole thing, I convinced myself that I had something terribly serious and incurable. Nothing else seemed to make sense in my head. My legs literally were not working - certain days, I could not walk further than eight steps without the joints below my knees starting to hurt and pull and stretch painfully. I would wake up in the morning and my Achilles would be so sore I could barely walk to the bathroom. The pain would occasionally dissipate, or change, or become nonexistant. But then it would come right back, scaring me into fearing the absolute worst.

The necessity of getting around Jerusalem - arguably one of the more hilly, busy, chaotic, and handicap inaccesible cities of the world - frustrated me to no end. I've spent the past eight months without a car, and I've come to depend on my body to get me just about anywhere. Having that taken away from me, and having to deal with the abusive and at times cruel cab drivers of Jerusalem, was a little harder to bear than I expected. I truly came to understand the necessity for accessibilty - for all people, with all different kinds of transport issues.

As the healing process has continued, albeit slowly, I have come to realize certain things about myself. While this whole thing was indeed incredibly scary, I became so overwhelmed by fear that I let that fear run away with my sanity. I lost my head a little bit, I made my family and Adam crazy, my roommate thought I was nuts, and my school probably had no idea what to do with me. And now, here I am four weeks later, feeling totally and utterly exhausted. I've finally started to regain my smile and sense of humor. (Baruch Hashem for that)

It has made me all too aware of how much I need to return to meditation, focus, and calm. It has made me realize how much I need to harness my anxiety, and conquer my fear that every little health woe = impending death. I know the root of this particular anxiety, but that doesn't necessarily make it okay. So, my goal for the next few days/weeks/months/eternity is to start working more dilligently on my emotional response to the unknown and the scary. It's part of the healing process for me, and it's part of coping with what I cannot, and will not, control.

The DAJJ, or rather, the DJJA, at Funkbruary 2005: Daniel, Jordan, J.Fro, and Adam

The (hopeful) end of my major health saga coincided with some tragic news. Many of you remember that my junior year of college, I lived with, hands-down, the most awesome three people in all of Davis. All of Yolo Country, really. The DAJJ, comprised of Daniel, Adam, Jordan, and myself, inhabited The Colleges #122. Daniel and Adam have gone on to great things in Washington D.C., and Jordy joined the Peace Corps in Benin, Africa in July 2007.

My dear Jordy emailed her listserve yesterday to inform all of us one of her closest friends, a fellow Peace Corps worker in Benin, had been senselessly murdered. I immediately called her to reach out and talk, to help her heal, and cope with such a tragic loss. Her friend Kate sounded like a truly amazing human being, a selfless and giving young woman; just like Jordy.

The news has been sitting in my stomach like a rock, reminding me how far away I am from my loved ones and how strange and sick this world can be sometimes. I keep thinking of Kate's family, shocked and in mourning. I keep thinking of Jordan's family back in Castro Valley, who are undoubtedly worried about their daughter and wishing for her to come home.

I keep thinking about the responsibility we have as people, as close and as extended community, to rally around those who experience unimaginable loss. We have an obligation, be it religious or spiritual or just plain human nature, to lift those people up and support them with all we have. It's part of comforting those who face tremendous loss; it's part of being a member of the human race. We reach out, we send our love, we try to help in any way we can.

As a rabbi-to-be, and as a paranoid android, death is on my mind more often than I care to admit. The rites and rituals surrounding Jewish mourning, death, and burial are topics I've explored in classes and discussions. And right now I am researching and writing a paper on Kaddish Yatom, the prayer for mourners that comes at the conclusion of a Jewish service. Thus, with the backdrop of my own illness, I've spent a great deal of time thinking about this tragedy, about grief, about loss, and about moving forward to keep living.

I guess the one thing we can always do, and always remember, is to tell the people we love that we love them. Never go to bed angry. Remember how fortunate we are, even in the midst of something terrible or frightening. Always count our blessings. And take advantage of the opportunities we have to do something good, even great, for ourselves and for others. It may be a recycled message, but it's a good one. And recycling is great.

So with that, I leave you. Take care of yourselves, look out for each other, and be well.

Love,

Jaclyn

בעיות בריאות

2009-03-09T20:05:00.004+02:00

For the past three weeks, I've been quietly battling what can only be described as a paranoid person's worst nightmare.

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I've been having some trouble with my legs and feet as of late. About three weeks ago, I spent the better portion of a week exercising far too much, and too strenuously. (See everyone? Exercise kills.) And following that week, my ankles and my feet and my shins just started bothering me. They were sore, but also in pain, and they felt funky. It was hard to walk around. And it was vague and unspecific. Was something sprained? Was it an infection? Was I falling apart at the seams? It was all very unclear.

And then this past weekend, it got really bad. Really hard to walk. Lots of pain. Lots of freaking out. And nothing really made sense. Nothing except the story of the Brazilian supermodel that scared the living shit out of me three months ago. It seemed to be hitting too close to home.

After eight and a half months of living in this country, with just eleven weeks left until my return to the states, I thought the finish line was in sight. I thought I had just about made it through. And, I thought that I'd done pretty well with the paranoia. But then this thing started, and I found myself back at square one. And by square one, I mean my first day of seventh grade at Windward, when I literally had a panic attack in the administration office and cried to the school counselor for two hours about missing my elementary school. (It was then we discovered my slight lack of coping skills)

The thing is, I'd never really thought about what it would be like to not have use of my legs and feet. I complain so much about the whopping size of those suckers, and joke so often about how difficult it is to find shoes. But my body-paranoia usually centers on the loss of my eyesight, or hearing, or losing a finger. It never crossed my mind that something horrible might happen to the very foundation of my body; the very things that I so often wish were different, or smaller, or at least more manageable in shoe stores.

For the past two weeks I've walked/hobbled around this fair city, taking cabs from place to place, experiencing what it's like to be somewhat disabled. I've learned that Jerusalem is absolutely one of the worst places in the world to be handicapped. There is almost no way someone seriously injured or wheelchair-bound could live here. Aside from the ubiquitous hills, there's a huge lack of elevators, slippery Jerusalem stone everywhere, narrow sidewalks, and horrible drivers that will run you down if you take more than three seconds crossing an intersection. It's kind of appalling.

I must admit, as scared as I am to receive the results of yesterday's blood test post-Purim, I'm looking forward to getting some sort of resolution. And as scary as this has been, and as much as I've withdrawn from loud, crazy, laugh-y spotlight-hogging Jaclyn, I am somewhat grateful for having this little, horribly scary experience.

Today in T'filah I felt myself praying with greater intensity than I can remember in recent memory. I felt myself connecting with the prayers about our bodies and souls, speaking and chanting the words with greater fervor. And, though I did not stand during the Amidah, I attempted to release my tension and breathe into the sacred words. In a way I guess I was petitioning God to help make me better, but also thanking God for giving me a body that works most of the time. I think moments like this can either make you totally angry and disconnected (which, to be fair, happened during Kabbalat Shabbat services on Friday) or they can make you think deeper about what you do have, and what you're fortunate for, and how disappointing it would be if you didn't have that anymore.

So, on that note I leave you. Tomorrow is Purim, and we have two days off from school! (The second day is, in all seriousness, is supposed to be for getting over a hangover) Though I'm not particularly in the costume-party-make-a-fool-of-yourself mood, I do look forward to laughing a little bit and not taking myself, or my peers and faculty, so seriously.

Until next time,

Jaclyn

Slumpdog Millionaire

2009-03-03T08:28:00.002+02:00

It's been a weird past few weeks here in Israel. The majority of my class, including me, has completely checked out of this year. We're ready to go home. Been there, done that. We're over it. Finito. גומרים. Nothing more to see here, folks. Peace Out, Yerushalayim.

And yet, I know there's more to come, unfinished business, and more adventures to be had. I don't want to accept it, because that means the 81 days before I fly back to California are actually real. The fantasy of going home tomorrow is delusional, but it attempts to assuage the general malaise I've been feeling.

The weather has been awful recently, too. We had a disconcertingly mild winter. One where not a single Israeli could get through a conversation without complaining of the Galilee drying up. And now, for the past few weeks, it has rained nonstop, (presenting us with a mild little flood in the apartment) and it's been freezing and bitter. No one could be in a good mood with that shit raging outside.

I've been dealing with a weird host of health woes recently, too. Last week, it seemed as though representatives from various parts of my body decided to hold a meeting in my liver and say, "okay... let's really freak her out." Random disconnected things - but most prominently some really annoying leg soreness and pain - started happening to me last week. Though I've come a long way with my paranoia and anxiety, let's just say I wasn't the easiest patient at the medical center to deal with. Not being able to walk properly was really scary. I'm doing better, but you know what? Being sick sucks. And being sick in a foreign country really sucks.

The February 10th election is still unresolved. Israel doesn't have a Prime Minister yet, or a Coalition in the government. And every day, when I click onto "Haaretz" and "JPost," I'm greeted with the same parade of messages: Bibi meets with Tzipi, Peres meets with Bibi, Lieberman is wackadoodle, NO coalition reached. It's hard to take the whole thing seriously when it seems like nothing is moving forward, or ever does.

However, Israel doesn't seem like a foreign entity to me anymore, and hasn't for awhile. I'm so accustomed to this way of life, to the way people treat each other, to the problems in this society, to the way people carry themselves, and to the daily rigmarole of Jerusalem, that it's become engrained in my way of living. It's not a surprise anymore. Nothing in this country throws me. I just get it. I don't like it, but I get it. That's something that comes with living abroad for eight months.

I'm in a slump. I know it. I've been going going going for eight months straight, with some serious ups and downs, and now I'm just pooped out. Eight months is a long time to be in a country that isn't yours; in a program that demands every inch of your soul every day of your life. I'm a bit suffocated here in Jerusalem. It's the intensity of the program coupled with the intensity of this city. Gam v'gam.

Anyway, because I like this blog to have a positive spin, and don't want to come off like some big Negative Nancypants, I will say that there's much to look forward to. Next week is Purim, and HUC has a ton planned. Then in two weeks I'm meeting Adam in Paris (hooray!) and then immediately after heading down to the Negev with school. I love the Negev, but haven't spent any time there on this particular trip. So I'm excited. Then there's Pesach, and the parents will be here, and then the end of school. It's hard to believe, but it's happening.

So perhaps the weather will lift, and perhaps my legs will be back to normal again, and perhaps I'll remember to see the silver lining in all these adventures, and perhaps I'll be reminded of what I'm doing here in the next few days. Until then, I'm just a lonely Slump-dog. Sitting in a chair. Of a Millionaire.

-Jaclyn

The Day the Music Died

2009-02-21T15:00:00.005+02:00

There are a handful of dates during the past twenty five years which I remember vividly.

I remember the Friday afternoon in October 1989 when my father, dressed in a brown plaid shirt, ran into Ms. Volterra's kindergarten classroom and notified my class that "Mom's having the baby!" Several hours later, my brother Andrew was born.

I remember the late summer day not even one year later when my parents sat me down on the porch in our backyard. They told me mom was very sick and needed to have an operation to make her better. I remember how grave their faces were, how worried they seemed. And at the same time, the weather was beautiful and the kids next door were laughing and playing in their yard. At the time I thought I completely understood the situation, and did not like it at all.

I remember the Northridge Earthquake: January 17, 1994. The only casualty in our house was a ceramic picture frame that fell to the carpeted floor in my room. I stepped on it, and it smashed to bits. I remember the four of us huddled in our foyer for hours, waiting out the aftershocks and glued to our handheld radio. Later that morning, my father called his family back east to tell them we were okay; we were informed his father, my grandfather Sol, had died in his sleep in Florida.

And so began a seemingly never-ending period of illness and death in my family. After Grandpa Sol came his wife Sylvia, followed by their son Harvey. It seemed like we were constantly in New York and/or Florida for years; an endless succession of black Lincoln towncars and deli meat trays. I remember the funerals, I remember the eulogies, I remember the cemetaries.

I remember my Bat Mitzvah: February 8, 1997. I remember the feeling that the storm had finally passed in my family. I remember the excitement, the thrill of being on the bimah, the respect I had for my parsha, Mishpatim (the laws). I remember fully engaging in the process and feeling that it was a part of me. And above all else, I remember realizing that this was something I could get used to; something I could love and do for the rest of my life.

The years in between 1997 and 2007 are both vivid and fuzzy. I remember middle and high school; how adolescence wasn't entirely kind to me. I remember the highs, the lows, and the mediocrity. But the one constant in that entire time period was the love I had for Judaism, and Jewish music, and the idea that I could one day take that and make a living at it. I wanted to be a leader in the Jewish community, and felt I had found the right role.

Two years ago this week, I received the letter that completely changed my idea of who I was, and how I would spend the rest of my life. After ten years of working toward one specific goal, everything came to a sudden halt.

I remember the thin little envelope addressed to me, sent from the very school which I now attend, sitting in the mailbox at our apartment in Berkeley. I remember opening that letter with Adam by my side, reading the first two lines, and feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me, that there was absolute no oxygen whatsoever in our living room, and that the floor had crumbled inward like that scene in "The Goonies" when Andy plays the bone-piano to get to the waterslides. I remember slumping forward, feeling dizzy, and angry, and shocked, and totally freaked out.

In the hours and days and weeks and months which followed February 24, 2007 came a tremendous succession of moments. Moments of excrutiating embarrassment, moments of tremendous frustration and anger. Moments of clarity and hope. Moments where I looked and felt like a lost soul; knowing in my heart that the root of this whole thing was something I could not avoid, and had to confront. I knew I had to re-align myself with myself. I had to search my soul. I had to let go of the rigidly defined vision of who I was going to be. And so, I did.

Exactly thirteen months later, on March 24, 2008, I received a different letter from the school which I now attend. It congratulated me, and welcomed me, and celebrated my accomplishments. The letter informed me that yes, it believed in me and what I could possibly do for the Jewish people. This time around, the air sucked out of me for in a different way. I ran to the phone and couldn't feel my legs. The smile stuck on my face wouldn't go away for hours, or days. After eleven years and two very different experiences, I had finally found the right letter.

I've been living in Jerusalem almost eight months now. I'm fully immersed in a program that I love, learning things that have opened my eyes and my soul in a multitude of ways. I feel that I have found my place, my passion, and a role that I cannot wait to step into.

Not a day goes by I don't think of the process I went through, or how grateful I am that it happened; how fortunate I feel to be here. Not a day goes by when I don't think to myself how much that entire process kind of sucked, yet was kind of awesome. Watching your past flash before your eyes, thinking about it in great detail (whether through a blog, or through talking, or through dreams) always makes me contemplative. The day I was rejected from Cantorial school was a watershed moment in my life, up there with the most major moments that will never, ever escape my memory.

I have three months to go in this program, and they're going to fly by fast. I've already got the itch; a major, major itch to come back home. Some may even say I've checked out of the year already. And... well, they may be right.

But what matters is that I'm here for the long haul; I'm here to come out of this alive and swinging. I'm here - so I can come back there - filled with stories and souvenirs of my experiences, so I can regail all of you with hours upon hours of can-you-believe-that-happened-isms. I'm here so I can come back there with a deepened understanding of who I am. I'm here because my school allowed me to be here, because they said "hey Jaclyn, we think you're pretty great." I'm here because I want to be here, because it's where "here" should be.

With much love,

Jaclyn

Gratefully,

Jaclyn

A Quarter of a Century

2009-02-08T22:02:00.006+02:00

Oh dear. It seems I've turned twenty five!

Birthday bouquet delivery from my wonderful בן זוג

This past Saturday was indeed my twenty-fifth birthday. And it was an international occasion! February 7th was celebrated all over the world: in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and all different corners of the US! Facebook and Gmail served as the great uniters; I felt the love from so many, and from so many different places. It really made the celebration complete.

I had the most incredible, love-filled weekend with my girlfriends. Eight of us headed down to Tel Aviv for some fabulous weather, great food, culture, and quality time. Though it was kind of hard to be separated from Adam and my family, I had a really fantastic time with the women who have become my support system and confidants here in Israel. We explored, we ate, we drank, we were merry. It was grand.

The reality of turning a quarter of a century hasn't entirely hit me yet. I feel like ever since my 22nd birthday, they've just kept rolling in, one after another. But twenty five sounds old, and kind of surreal. I haven't settled into it just yet. However, I believe many wonderful things will happen this year, some of them planned and some not! I feel good about this upcoming year of my life; I feel happy and excited to be exactly where I think I should be, fulfilling a dream and following an incredible path. And I really do feel so very loved and supported, and that makes all the difference.

Our little getaway was awesome. The greatest thing about getting out of Jerusalem for a weekend is... well, getting out of Jerusalem! Tel Aviv is so liberating; it's open and free, bustling and beautiful. The minute you get down the hill, the tension just seems to lift from your body. It's awesome. There's so much going on in the city, even though most of it shuts down for Shabbat. It's a real place, and a real representation of Israeli culture and society. I love going there. I love being there. And mostly, I love going and being there with good people.

Here are some highlights from our little vacay:

W/RVT on ha'sheirut to T.A.

(we're big on abbreviations)

Israel's national election is this Tuesday, the 10th. The country has been inundated by political campaign propaganda. Above is a picture of Benjamin Netanyahu, former Prime Minister of Israel and head of the Likud Party. We once worked out together at the David Citadel gym.

This is Tzipi Livni. We like Tzipi. Especially Lisa, who tried to kiss her.

This is the American Embassy. It was directly across the street from our hotel, which would have been convienient in case I (Has v'halilah!) lost my passport.

Friday night we had a fantastic dinner in a beautiful place called Nana, in a beautiful neighborhood called Neve Tzedek; kind of like the SoHo of Tel Aviv. (and previously unexplored by yours truly)

We saw a modern ballet production set to "Carmina Burana" at the famous Suzanne Dallal Center in Neve Tzedek. It was fabulous!

Saturday began with a long, leisurely brunch on the Namal, the Tel Aviv port.

Post-brunch Mimosa-hazed cuddling at Gilly's on the Namal

(with Leah, Lisa, Leslie, and Lauren... I only associate with L's)

Back to Jerusalem for an intimate gathering at 37 Ramban

(with Mer and Lisa)

Jimmy and I sniff the Adam-sent flowers

With Benjy and Leah, a pair of favorites

With Jillian, RVT, and Rachel M at the 37 Ramban m'sibah.

So there you have it. A birthday in a blogpost. I hope you enjoyed the pictorals; I certainly enjoyed making the memories.

For now, take good care. Have a great week. Catch you on the flip side.

With love,

the Birthday Girl

Father Fro Was Here

2009-02-03T00:02:00.009+02:00

My father, the shmear-o

Shalom.

The past week or so has been a total blur. I was completely jet lagged and out of it for the first couple days... wait, scratch that. I'm still jet lagged.

It was a weird transition going from LA to Jerusalem, from freedom to school. And I can't quite say my head is completely back in class mode. But overall, it feels good to be back where most of my clothes are; it feels good to be back in the neighborhood where I've created a life. And it feels good to be back in the thick of things at school, despite the fact that I could use another month or two off from classes.

The highlight of the past week was definitely having my father here. He arrived Friday morning from a business trip in Switzerland, and stayed through last night. Yesterday I gave my one and only D'var Torah (mini-sermon) of the year, on Parshat Beshallach. So it meant the world to have him here to hear it. I wish the rest of the family could have been there, too. Regardless, I had a great time with dad, and was sad to see him go. He and mom return at Pesach for two weeks.

The d'var was well-received, people were very supportive and really liked it. I was proud. It went well. Once I get my act together and take out all the "pause here" and "deep breath" marks, I'll post it on the blog. For now, enjoy a few pics me and Dad.

Enjoying a hot cup of Sangria ... not exactly Israeli, but truly reminiscent of our Father-Daughter trip to Mallorca, Spain

In Jerusalem, with the David Citadel behind us

With Lauren, Lisa, and Leslie at Darna, a Moroccan mis'ada

in the heart of Jlem.

At the Eretz Yisrael Museum in Tel Aviv

Until next time,

J.Fro in J.Lem

On being home...

2009-01-24T22:05:00.007+02:00

My two-week visit home was wonderful, strange, delicious, love-filled, and altogether very, very necessary. I got to see some really great people, eat well, see a movie or two, cuddle, laugh, dance, play, and sleep. I also felt like I was rediscovering Los Angeles, doing things and visiting places I've either never seen, or haven't been to in years. It made me incredibly excited to return there permanently for the rest of my graduate school experience.

The sunshine colored my already full days and made me deeply appreciate my Southern California roots. From the moment I landed in Los Angeles, the weather was as beautiful and warm as one could ever crave. Eighty degrees and sunny every day. Not a cloud in the sky. It warmed me up and helped me relax after a long semester, long week of finals, and tremendously long journey back to L.A.

As I previously wrote, being with Adam was so wonderful. The last time we were together, he was being whisked away in a sheirut toward Ben Gurion Airport and I stayed a hysterical, sobbing mess at the intersection of Ramban and Holy Shit. So, being together again was both totally awesome and weirdly familiar. Thankfully, we won't have to wait four more months to see each other again; we'll meet in Paris for his birthday, spring break, and our six year anniversary in March!

My family welcomed me with open arms, providing me with free laundry, delicious food, and bacon as far as the eye could see. They indulged my cravings and took me almost everywhere I wanted to go. Mom and I spent a great deal of time and money shopping, though I must say the economic downturn has resulted in really poor merchandise at these malls. I was not that impressed. But as for Target, well ... Tar-jay was awesome.

Despite the piss-poor mall situation, we did some other incredible things. From dinners with old friends to Shabbat to visiting the incredibly gorgeous town of Santa Barbara, it was indeed a full two weeks.

The view of the Pacific from the Getty Museum

On Saturday, mom, Andrew, and myself went to the Getty, merely a stone's throw from our house. While the museum has nothing really to boast about in terms of art, the view from the top of the hill is absolutely stunning. You can see all of Los Angeles from the Museum, and on a clear day like that, it was inspirational.

Adam and me with Ryan B

Adam, mom, and I participated in Thursday Night Dinner at the Bernet's. Ryan is one of my oldest friends; we've known each other since first grade. Ryan introduced me to Adam, and for that I will always be grateful! His mother Dorothy made us a delicious dinner; the food was great, and the company even better.

With EmKap!

On Friday night, mom hosted a group of our oldest friends for Shabbat dinner. She made brisket (delicious) and provided us all the opportunity to catch up. And Emily, one of my closest friends from college (and my little sis from the sorority) came down from Davis and surprised me! It was wonderful.

The whole mishpucha at Sunday brunch

One Sunday, we hosted my Aunt Carrie and Uncle Joel, cousin Neil and his wife Rachel, Uncle Peter, and my second-cousin-in-some-way-removed Ari, who goes to USC. Even though it looks like I'm crushing my mother in the picture above, we had a great time and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

First burrito in 6+ months! Hallelujah!

I ate several burritos. 'Nuff said.

The ever-gorgeous wine country of Santa Ynez Valley, just over the hill from SB

Wine tasting... clearly, I'm not a fan of this one.

Mom, dad, Adam and I spent one Sunday in Santa Barbara, wine tasting and just generally enjoying the beautiful weather. We found a really cool, off-the-beaten-path winery, called Koehler, (not to be confused with the toilet-making Kohlers) and ate a scrumptious dinner at Bouchon, a local and organic-emphasized restaurant downtown. Yum.

Our 44th President

Finally, the ultimate highlight was watching Barack Obama's inauguration. It was incredible, historic, moving, and so powerful. I'm so glad I was in the states to experience it.

It's truly hard to comprehend that there's only four months left of my Israel adventure. As tough as it was to say goodbye to Adam, mom, dad, and L.A., I know I'll be back there permanently sooner than I could even imagine. And though a part of me is really anxious about starting a whole other semester, I'm also really, really looking forward to it.

My seven-hour layover in Zurich is coming to a close. Thus, I must head off in search of my flight to Tel Aviv. Until next time, all my love.

-Jaclyn

Inauguration Day

2009-01-22T07:27:00.004+02:00

Boker Tov, President Obama!

My time at home has been wonderful. My parents and Adam have treated me well, I've eaten oh-so-much good food, I've spent time with the people I love, and have purchased some adorable footwear. However, the absolute highlight of these past two weeks was watching Obama's inauguration on TV with my family yesterday morning.

What an incredible feeling it was to watch Barack Hussein Obama become our 44th President. Even greater still was seeing how many millions of people turned out for the inauguration - filling the Washington Mall with joy, excitement, and pride. Yesterday was the much-delayed satisfaction of his winning the election in November; the gratification of a democratic system that finally delivered the result so many of us wanted. Here was also the final stroke of Bush's presidency, the end of eight years of disappointment and destruction.

Saying goodbye to Bush, bidding farewell to that smirk, that attitude, that administration; it felt really good, and totally weird. Almost unreal. Unfathomable. Our nation has suffered for so long under one person's leadership, and now he's been replaced by a man who seems, for all intents and purposes, beautifully prepared and poised to lead our country.

Even moments after the ceremony, as Obama signed his nomination papers and escorted Bush to the waiting helicopter, it felt like a dream. Is this really happening? I thought to myself. How did we finally get it right? Watching him move through the rest of his day - from a tragedy-laden luncheon to the parade to the overpacked inaugural balls of the evening, it still felt so bizarre. Who is this smooth-talking, deliciously adorable, patient, unflappable, talented, in-love-with-his-wife-and-kids, decent human being? Is this really our new leader? For me, it felt like when you have a really successful day at the mall, scoring awesome pieces that fit you beautifully, all on sale. You think to yourself, is this really for me? Did all this really happen? It's total gratification with a hint of complete disbelief.

I think it is tremendously important that Obama is the first African American president. His story is the personification of an American dream. That he is a total break from the presidential norm is a welcome and necessary message to send our nation's children. However, I think the most important thing to harp on is that this one person represents a new kind of leadership; his qualifications and his goals and the way he explains his message are all so brilliantly refreshing and needed. That he is stepping into a truly difficult situation, with everything pretty much in the shitter; well... I think, or perhaps I hope, that he will navigate this period of uncertainty in his typical unflappable style. I look forward to seeing how the world changes with him.

Though I've always been proud and felt truly lucky to carry an American passport, yesterday gave me a heightened appreciation for my national identity and the country in which I was raised. When I go back to Israel on Friday, I will take with me a renewed sense of love for the good ole US of A, and a profound interest in the political and governmental developments of my home.

With much joy,

Jaclyn

Done & Home

2009-01-11T03:24:00.007+02:00

I'm done with fall semester! And I'm home in LA! And I ate my first burrito in six months! Life is good.

Finals week was surprisingly great. I worked my ass off, but I felt like I was invested in my exams more than I ever have been before. I was totally into the whole process, as annoying and brain-mushing as it was, and realized in the thick of it all how much knowledge I've accumulated over the past six months. I feel like a may-jah dork saying this, but I'm so excited to be receiving this education. I feel fortunate and blessed, even though saying that after a week of finals... well, I think it might entitle me to a straightjacket. But still, I really did enjoy finals in a weird way, and actually look forward to getting my grades back when I return.

Celebrating the end of finals with Lisa and RVT

On Thursday night, I had a lovely celebration dinner with the girls at Mona. We toasted the end of fall semester and played "Remember when..," looking back fondly on our six months in Jerusalem. Then, late Thursday night (actually, ridiculously early Friday morning) I departed for the States. Originally, I was due to come home on the 12th; we booked the ticket through miles, and it was nearly impossible to change. Somehow, I managed to get a sensitive and kind-hearted person on the phone at United, who heard my plea and finally changed my ticket to the 9th. Only, I had to take four separate flights to get to Los Angeles. So January 9th became the longest day of my life: I was in Tel Aviv, Zurich, London, Washington D.C., and finally Los Angeles. It was an adventure and a total pain in the ass, but I made it in one piece.

The moment I saw Adam, it made the whole complicated trip worth it. It felt so weird and so great to finally be with him again; the last time we saw each other was exactly four months ago to the day, and I was a belligerent mess saying goodbye. Hugging my parents and brother, getting bombarded by my dog Chewy, and being back in the Fromer household has been surreal, but wonderful. L.A. weather is glorious; warm, clear, and sunny. I'm so deeply appreciative, coming from the bitter winter cold of Jlem!

My welcome wagon at LAX last night.

In Santa Monica with the beautiful Pacific behind us.

Today has been such a mellow and relaxing day. And I got to eat my first legitimate burrito since June. Oh, it was so delicious. So necessary. So essential. We went to the beach and walked around Santa Monica, I gazed out at the ocean and felt so sublimely happy to be living in Los Angeles the next four or five years. Just being with my family and Adam felt so, so great. I've had a smile on my face since I landed.

It partially feels like I never left, but at the same time, all these subtle reminders inform me I've really been gone a long time. It was totally weird to go through my closet and the boxes containing all our crap from Berkeley. Luckily, Adam is thee most wonderfully OCD person ever, so everything is organized and properly marked. But it's kind of a nostalgia overdose, too. A trippy reminder of everything I didn't shove in a suitcase with me back in July.

I'm so happy and excited to be home, but I am also very much looking forward to my remaining four months in Jerusalem. Looking back, my time there has been an awesome adventure, and it will be truly difficult to pack it all up and say goodbye. As crazy and intense as the country is, I am having a wonderful experience. But for now, it's all about California.

With love,
Jaclyn

New Years Pictures

2009-01-02T15:39:00.005+02:00

New Years Eve in Jerusalem was a great night! Though most Israelis celebrate the new year at Rosh Hashanah, a select few actually indulge in "Sylvester" bashes, and welcome the Gregorian year with pizazz and panache. We partook in the festivities with a New Years Prom, and here are some pics from the night. Enjoy. xoxo

Welcoming 2009 with Leslie, Lisa, and Meredith

Pinning the boutineer on my gorgeous date, Joel!
(a friend of Adam's since the diaper days)

Future Jewish Leaders of America:
Joel, Jac, Ari, Meredith, Jimmy, Lisa, Leslie, and Adam

Roommate Lauren and I get our boogie on

The crowd of HUCsters on the dance floor.

Happy 2009!

Love,
Jac

A New Year

2009-01-01T15:43:00.003+02:00

Happy New Year! Shana Tova u'Metukah. May 2009 be a good year, and may it bring peace.

I've spent many hours this past week trying to articulate my feelings on what's been going on in Israel since Saturday. As the world is well aware, that day Israel began a coordinated attack on the Hamas military infrastructure in the Gaza Strip. This act, called Operation Cast Lead, was a retaliation against the thousands of bombs that have fallen on Israelis in the past seven years. Even after Israel conceded Gaza and withdrew every last soldier and citizen in 2005, (but retained control of its borders) even after a weak six-month ceasefire, militants in Gaza continued to send missiles into Israel, destroying homes and lives.

So, what did Israel do? It fought back. And these attacks have been planned for months. Ehud Barak, the Defense Minister and head of the Labor Party, has made it very clear this showing of strength is also a response to the failed events of the 2nd Lebanon War in 2006. This is Israel saying, Hamas is a bunch of terrorists, we're going to take them down, contrary to before we know HOW do it, and the world just needs to shut up and let us do it. I'm kind of impressed with their resolve, but also deeply saddened that it had to come to this.

If you read the New York Times as often as I do, you'll see that their coverage has been (unsurprisingly) pro-Palestinian. Covering the loss of life, which is and always will be tragic. Profiling the victims of the attacks. Calling Israel the bully. Talking about massive numbers of rallies held in Israel and abroad against the operation. And it's just so infuriating, because the majority of the world (including Arab countries) has said that this was Hamas' fault, they did not listen, they refuse to listen, and Israel had to respond.

Let me make it very clear: the attacks are specifically directed at Hamas, NOT at Palestinians. Israel is doing all that it can to avoid civilian casualties, whereas the rockets being sent from Gaza into Israel are aimed at Israelis: anybody, anywhere, as long as they're card-carrying members of the Jewish religion. It's not like Israel is saying, let's kill all the dirty rotten bunch of them. NO! Israel is taking the necessary measures to protect its citizens, and unfortunately, it involves massive destruction and widespread loss of life.

It's a tremendously bizarre scenario in Israel right now. First of all, we are nowhere near the fighting. Gaza and the southern Negev are about an hour and a half away, which really isn't that big of a comfort, but at least bombs aren't falling on Jerusalem. However, with each passing day we get more and more worried that shit is going to start going down here, whether the missiles are going to reach us or angry people start carrying out their own personal vendettas. The unknown of the future is what scares us all. The immediate present has already sunk in, and we're basically immune to it now.

For the past several days, Jerusalem has felt even more intense than it usually does, which is saying a lot. Everyone (sabras and foreign students alike) has been on their toes. And we're all watching the news and listening to what the foreign media has to say - and it's just totally bizarre. It feels like Israel has a big target on it right now, with all the world's eyes on it. We're all remaining vigilant and keeping our eyes open for what might happen, though at this point us HUC students are mostly consumed with our final exams.

And as for the way it feels to be here, well.. I'm mostly depressed. I'm so sad that the situation between these two peoples is what it is. My History of Zionism class this semester was basically an explanation of exactly what's going on in Israel today: these are just two completely separate peoples who hate each other. I don't think that hatred will ever go away, and thus my hope for peace is basically no more. I just don't see it happening on a large-scale, even with a two-state solution. No one will ever be satisfied, and no one will ever forgive the other for the events of the past.

So, hinei Yisrael. This is Israel. This is what it's like to live here, constantly under the threat of war. This is what it's like to be surrounded by your enemies, to know that people absolutely hate you, to see that the majority outside world thinks you're assholes for attacking those poor innocent people in Gaza, who live in poverty and have nothing anyway. I do not understand why people choose to move here, but then again... they probably don't understand how I can be a full and legit Jew while living hutz m'aretz - outside the Holy Land, where Jews belong.

I'm now going home to California in eight days. (Hooray!) A part of me wants to stay in Los Angeles and never look back, and another part of me wants to return to Israel for the four months and twenty-four days I have left on my program, and support Israel by being here and standing with my fellow Jews. I think this is a tension many of my fellow students feel, both out of our fear of impending war and the reality that most of us have no interest in making aliyah. This isn't our home. California is my home. My family and Adam, and friends and loved ones: that's my home. I want to be with my home.

Yet Jerusalem has become my home too, in some way. I've set down some serious stuff here; created a world for myself and become comfortable in my temporary environment. It's going to be totally bizarre to be a tourist in Los Angeles for two weeks, looking at Israel from 6,000 miles away and thinking that my current life exists in Jerusalem, not in L.A. Whether I return to Israel or stay in L.A. is not up to me; the school will make that decision, and it's unlikely we'll be sent home to the states. Regardless, it's just going to be a weird experience, and I'll blog and blab all about it, and all my feelings, for all you lucky readers.

Sigh. Hinei Yisrael. This is part of the experience of living here, I guess. This is Israel, in all its glory. This is why I'm here: to live and breathe all that Israel does and is and will be.

To return to the message at the beginning of this post, Happy New Year. Really and truly. Let's make it a happy year. Let us rise to the occasion and rally around this new American government - let us create positive changes as much as we can, even in these tremendously dark and scary times. Let us ride that banner of Hope, wherever we are. And let us always look to the people we love, and know that we are lucky to have them.

Sending you my warmest new years hugs....

-Jaclyn

The Holiday Spirit

2008-12-20T15:58:00.008+02:00

שלום לכולם (Hello Everyone!)

This past week has been busy, productive, and positively COLD! It's suddenly winter here in Jerusalem, making me ever so grateful for the central heating in our apartment. The jackets and boots have come out in full force, just in time for Hanukkah next week.

The holiday season is fascinating here in Jerusalem. You know in your head it's the holidays, but you don't see a single Christmas tree. You listen for the sound of sleighbells, but hear only Hebrew. You walk through stores and restaurants expecting green and red regalia, but see only the usual chaotic mess. On the flipside, menorahs and Hanukkah decorations are sprouting up everywhere. And tomorrow when I buy my Hanukkah gear, I'll hopefully find some "Nes, Gadol, Hayah, POH" dreidels! (Denoting that a great miracle happened here, not "there!")

It's really quite cool, and yet strangely jarring, to only see one holiday represented in the bubble in which you live. To be greeted and left the same way by strangers - "Chag Hanukkah Sameach," doesn't faze me in the moment; yet when you think about it, you realize that everyone here speaks a collective Jewish language. Unlike at home, where you hear "Merry Christmas" and , if you're lucky, "Happy Holidays," here in Jerusalem only one holiday matters: Hanukkah. I'll be sure to blog about the various goings-on of the holiday here in Jlem next week.

This coming week is our last full week of school; the following week is pre-finals (complete with a New Years Eve prom) the week after is finals, and then I'll be home in Los Angeles with my beautiful family and Adam! I'm so excited, I can practically taste it. And quite honestly, this semester has been so long and so challenging (mono, anyone?) that I just want it to be over. It needs to be done! I hope I learned something, but it doesn't matter if I get an A; just that I pass. Words to live by, as written by J.Fro.

In other news, last night I had my one and only assigned service of the year. Each rabbinical student has to lead services once and give a d'var Torah once; I give my d'var in early February on Beshallach, the Song of the Sea. After you lead services, you get scrutinized and criticized up the wazoo by faculty, and students are invited to tear you apart, too. While some of the comments are helpful and productive, it's mostly an amusing forum where people get to channel their personal anxieties and frustrations with prayer onto those who lead it; the "reviews" tend to become big bitchfests. Our review is Tuesday, and I can't wait! Regardless of what is said, I'm proud of myself, and that's what matters.

Leading Kabbalat Shabbat with my roommate Lauren was a wonderful, positive experience. It was my first time ever being in the rabbinical role, though we sang almost everything together. I felt we crafted a beautiful service; people seemed really into it, enjoying themselves and praying along with us. Lauren is a supremely talented human being, and we worked off each other really well. She inspired my iyunnim, (otherwise known as the little nuggets of rabbinical wisdom in between songs) and I helped advise her on the music. All in all, it was wonderful.

It felt good - really good - to stand up there on the pulpit again. I feel comfortable up there, and not because I want to be the center of attention or the star of the show. I truly enjoy leading others in prayer. I love smiling into a congregation and seeing them smile back. To know that you are working hard to provide yourself and others with a meaningful Shabbat experience just fills the soul with nachas; it feels damn good. And it felt really awesome to finally show the HUC community what brought me to this school in the first place.

The theme of last night's service was light; specifically, bringing your light into the darkness around you. As we look to Hanukkah next week, we also see the official start of winter. As the days grow colder and the nights get darker, we light the candles of Hanukkah against that darkness, and bring our own illumination into the world.

To each of you who celebrates the holidays in your own unique way - may it be a beautiful season of warmth, togetherness, and illumination.

Missing you all,
Jaclyn

All's well in Jerusalem

2008-12-07T18:05:00.004+02:00

Shalom, friends.

Things are going well here in Jerusalem. This past week was another busy one, but as I finished the bulk of my midterms I'm feeling considerably less stressed. The weather has been beautiful, if a bit chilly. And as more time elapses, I'm starting to feel increasingly more at home here in the Holy Land. It's something I never thought I would say, let alone write on my blog. But perhaps it just takes a few months to become comfortable in one's new surroundings.

I passed the five month mark last week, and with that transition came a strange new feeling. As I began to think about my eventual return to California, some strong tinges of sadness came with it. I realized that this adventure will soon come to an end, and I'm just not ready for that. Feeling that; sensing a strange new sensation of premature regret, made me realize that I like this place more than I let on. Despite the complaints, I really am enjoying my time here. So in the spirit of positive thinking, I'm going to list some of the unique things I've come to love and adore.

1) Toilet Paper Everywhere - Every bathroom stall in this country has an overabundance of toilet paper. Every time you look at the dispenser and the roll's out, not to fear! Look behind you and there are seven more rolls, just waiting to be used. I hope American establishments take note of this, and start stocking up immediately. Especially in the ladies' loo.

2) The Jerusalem Light - Jerusalem is a beautiful city. I didn't realize it so much over the summer, because it was so hot and smoggy the only thing I found beautiful was a cold shower at the end of the day. But especially in the late afternoon, as the sun sets in the west, this city truly shines. I've never seen a city look as romantic in the setting sun as Jerusalem.

3) Makolets - The makolet is the Israeli version of a mini-market. Only, at these mini-markets, that's where you usually find a treasure trove of American products. The Feel Box on Azza (a truly fitting name) is a particular favorite. From salad dressings to peanut-butter stuffed pretzels, the Makolet has it all. It's also a cheap and quick alternative to SuperSol (aka Superslow) which, sadly, did not make the top-10 list.

4) Timol Shilshom - A famous Israeli cafe/bookstore, it has the most delicious Friday morning brunch spread ever. Every item is delicious and fresh. And the setting is so authentic; so old-school, candle-lit library poetry reading-esque, that I just can't get enough. Famous Israeli writers like Amos Oz have penned some of their best right there in Timol. And future rabbis like Jaclyn Fromer have eaten their fair share of spinach lasagna and freshly-baked challah there, too.

5) Fresh Fruit Juice - The fresh fruit stand is not a uniquely Israel thing. But the taste of a freshly squeezed Israeli orange or rimon (pomegranate) in juice form is simply divine. I think the juices just taste better here, for whatever reason. They're delicious. Amazing, Cheap. And all over the city.

6) The Hills are Alive - Jerusalem is a hilly city. Make no qualms about it. And those hills have given me the tightest quad muscles I've had in a long, long time. But the hills also provide for some beautiful, beautiful views. Climbing to the top of one and looking out over the valleys of Jlem, I feel alive, spiritual, and awake. These hills are inspiring.

7) The Roundup - Israeli currency is the Shekel. The shekel's equivalent of "coinage" is the Agora. If something costs 10.60 NIS, that means it's 10 shekels and 60 agorot. When you buy something, take a cab, whatever, sometimes the agorot disappear. You can get away with not paying it, or paying it, whatever. But sometimes Israelis also take away agorot from your final purchase at Supersol, too. It's a funny thing to me, and continues to crack me up that money is such a relative thing here. Agorot, no agorot... let's call the whole thing off.

8) School - I can't not include this one in the list; it's become my home! My campus is great, and I love seeing friendly faces every morning, noon, and night. The friends I've made are wonderful, and seeing them each day makes school feel like a safe and happy place. Plus, I feel like I'm learning and expanding my mind there, even though sometimes I leave with a pile of mush for a brain. But HUC is the best, and I love that I'm growing as a person within their walls.

9) Jewish Diversity - I was going to write "diversity" but the truth is, it's Jewish Diversity that really resonates here. There are all different kinds of Jews in this country. And it's really fascinating to watch them all interact. Perhaps I've been here so long, I don't only focus on the Orthodox-are-assholes thing anymore. Instead, I see the many kinds of Jews that live and breathe, work and play here. Seeing them as a majority instead of a minority is really and truly amazing, and it adds to my internal conversation about the importance of supporting Israel.

10) The I.D.F. - Israeli Defense Force - Since August, I have co-coordinated a program called Parallel Lives, which brings together a group of soldiers from an elite unit of the IDF with a small group of HUC students. We have activities and retreats together and learn about each others' lives. It's really been an amazing thing to take part in, mostly because my prior understanding of the IDF was so poor. But through this program, I have really gotten to see a different side of Israeli society, and have spent time with an amazing group of young soldiers. Through it, I have cultivated an understanding of the mandatory army service all Israelis are obligated to complete between the ages of 18 and 22, and come to see it as one of the most unique and poignant parts of Israeli life.

As this past weekend was our Parallel Lives Shabbaton, I thought I'd end my post by including some words and pictures from the weekend.

The Parallel Lives group: students and soldiers

Mixing at our first event: Kehillot Shelanu (our communities)

The soldiers getting goofy on the Tayelet: (from left) Miki, Rona, Mika, Darren, Shlomi, Ophir, Evi, Gili, and Adam.

The weekend was great, and for all the reasons I thought it would be. Students and soldiers interacted on a totally different level than our past few events. They saw each others' backgrounds and communities and who they really are. They went deeper and dug into tough questions, seeing how we are alike and how we differ. And as for me, I got a much stronger glimpse into the world of Tzahal, the Israeli army. Through all the discussion topics, and through the conversations over meals and in passing, I see these mature nineteen and twenty-year-olds as superb human beings, dedicated to their country and its survival. They depend on each other and on their leaders to do the right thing, keep them safe, and alive. And in turn, they defend the Israeli homeland. Their way of talking about Israel is both honest and inspiring, and I look forward to the continued relationships developing.

Until next time,

Jaclyn

Life, or something resembling it!

2008-11-29T23:22:00.006+02:00

Hello, friends.

Um, I've been really busy lately. Sickeningly busy. Like, need to take a deep breath, don't have time to pee during school, ready to poke my eyes out with an ice pick, think it's time for a lobotomy busy. Thankfully, some of the things keeping me busy are awesome. Not so luckily, most of what's keeping me busy is stressful and anxiety-inducing. But I take each day as it comes and try to keep my chin up, cause that's the only way to get out of this thing alive and kicking!

So what have I been up to, you may ask? Well, let's start with school. My days and weeks are full. So full. Like, waaaaay fuller than they were in high school. And unfortunately, there is so much busy work, I can't quite get away with skimping on the reading or avoiding certain assignments. Unlike college, where there was a paper every couple of weeks and reading I occassionally managed to avoid, HUC makes a point of pushing their students to the limit academically. I have nine classes, school Sunday-Thursday from 8:30-4:30, community service projects, three Kabbalat Shabbat services to plan (to be fair, two are voluntary) a D'var Torah to write for a February Shacharit service, and the strangest additional assignments one could imagine. (Tomorrow night our entire class is simulating the 1906 Duma Elections in Russia, and I represent the Communists. Go Red!)

Now, I am someone who responds well to a full load. I enjoy taking on multiple things at once and thrive on being busy. But this is... well, it's overkill. It's just a bit too much. And sadly, it's causing much stress, anxiety, and frustration amongst my peers. I try to promote my good moods, if and when I have them, and seek out the shining moments in an otherwise stressful week. But it's really a challenge, and all of it is exacerbated by my homesickness, my Adam-sickness, and my deep disappointment that our schedules prevent the exploration of Israel. Isn't that why we're 6,000+ miles from home?

Anyway, as for the good things I've been doing, well... there are plenty. Last weekend Leslie and I ventured to Tel Aviv for a truly awful showing of the opera "Salome." We had a great time together, but the opera was incredibly bizarre and made no sense to either of us. But the food was good, it was great to escape Jlem for a few hours, and we shared many laughs along the way. It was also so good to just get some culture, plus we were surrounded by so many well-dressed Israelis! It just felt good to do that, to not be surrounded by a bunch of frummy, depressed-looking religious people draped in black and hollering on about the Messiah's arrival. Despite the hilarity of the shittiness of the show, we really enjoyed our evening.

Last week my school visited the Leo Baeck High School in Haifa, and it was an incredible experience. A school based on Reform Judaism ideology, they stress the importance of being a mensch; a worldly, compassionate human being. I loved it, and I want to send my kids there!

Thursday Morning T'filah in the Leo Baeck Elementary

We also managed to participate in/observe a Thursday morning T'filah with the newly-formed elementary schoolchildren. At first we all cooed over how cute they were. But as the service went on. I realized that the kids were all singing along to melodies I myself knew from the states, guitar-based, Reform tunes to songs and prayers in Hebrew. They were praying together, reading from a siddur with pictures, and those student sh'lichei tzibbur (service leaders) were saying some beautiful, meaningful things. It moved me and put tears in my eyes, so I engaged.

Taking my seat next to a group of kids, I looked on with them and spoke quietly in Hebrew. Asking them questions about the siddur and prayers, they were completely engaged and enthusiastic. They kept asking me questions and looked so incredibly dazzled by me, this strange looking woman from the outside world. At some point, one of the kids turned and said "at studentit rabbanit?" (are you a female rabbinical student) When I said yes, the group did the Israeli equivalent of shrugging their shoulders, smiling, and saying "cool!" This nonchalant, of-course-a-woman-can-be-a-rabbi, isn't-that-awesome response absolutely made my day. Here is an entire generation of Israeli Jews raised on the progressive mindset I hope to espouse as a rabbi. It was really quite a cool moment.

And finally, let's talk about Thanksgiving! Or In Hebrew: Chag Hoddia, Turkey Holiday.

This is just the non-dairy spread... if only I'd captured the variety of creamy mashed potatoes and more...

Definitely a good, colorful selection!

The Thanksgiving celebration at HUC was wonderful; one for the scrapbooks. Organized beautifully by my dear friend Leslie, it featured the most incredible variety of food I have ever seen. As I've mentioned before, my peers are the most talented bunch of cooks! We had four huge turkeys, each prepared differently and deliciously by various friends. We had cranberry sauces, potato dishes, carrots, green beans, stuffing, biscuits, squash and so much more! My glazed carrots were a hit (I think) and the entire thing was supplemented by the most extraordinary desserts. My personal favorite? Pumpkin pie. Oh Em Gee, it is so good.

But more than the food, the Thanksgiving gathering demonstrated how close our HUC community has grown in the past five (!!) months. While T-giving has never been an especially poignant holiday for me, rather just a time to get together and munch with the nuclear family and our dear friends the Browns, many of my friends were sad to miss out on familial traditions. They leaned on us, we leaned on each other, and put together a tremendous celebration for ourselves. It was a marvelous evening, and I'll cherish it forever.

Happy, full HUCsters Ari, Leslie, and me

So what's on tap for the next few weeks? Lots of school, two retreats, (both work related) my official Kabbalat Shabbat-leading service, and eventually, finals! Oy vey. I'm both incredibly excited and tremendously sad that the halfway point of our year comes December 13. While I definitely cannot wait to return home to the people I love, I will be deeply saddened when this adventure comes to a close. I am scheduled to visit LA in January during my winter break, and know that visit will recharge and re-energize me, to come back and face the remainder of my time here in Jerusalem. It's a funny thing to near the halfway point and look behind and ahead.

It's also so interesting to see how far I've come in my perceptions of things here. Reading my first few blog posts just fascinates me; to observe my early thoughts and see how they've developed, especially with everything that's gone on the past five months... well, it just blows me away. Despite my frustrations, despite the homesickness, and in spite of the challenges of this year... I am having an incredible adventure and learning more about myself each and every day.

Sending lots of love back home,

Jaclyn

Two way street

2008-11-16T18:27:00.005+02:00

I think it may be time to blog about my current state of being in Israel. That, and I'm engaged in some serious procrastination over my Second Temple history final.

I've been here four and a half months, and in that time there's been a major schism in my personal life. On one side, I could not be happier. My social life is awesome, and I don't think I've ever been this busy. I am developing incredible relationships with my classmates; becoming really close friends with some, I believe, for life. We all live near each other, hang out easily, get together for Shabbat dinners and birthday celebrations, and laugh all the time. We rely on each other and have cultivated somewhat of a collective family here in Israel. The only thing missing in this department is my beloved Adam.

And yet as those relationships grow and I become more and more content with my social surroundings, my relationship with the place I live is regressing. The more time I spend on the streets of Jerusalem, the more discontent I grow with it. And sadly, it's getting to the point of depressing. I came here with eyes wide open, and slowly my heart is hardening to this country.

I can't walk to school in the morning without screaming "shut up" at someone honking their horn. I've started avoiding certain streets and stores and people because I just don't have the patience to deal with their bullshit. And perhaps the biggest indicator of my frustration, I was thisclose to slugging a man in the face on Friday morning. Not only did he cut me in line at the bakery, but he interrupted my conversation with the meltzarit (waitress) and pushed me out of the way so he could pay. I yelled at him, but refrained from physical violence. I figured, if I'm going to be a rabbi, I probably shoudn't go around assaulting people at this stage in the game.

Sadly, the man's behavior is what I've grown accostomed to here in Jlem. It's just the way people treat each other. There's a coldness, an attitude, impatience, arrogance, and a hard exterior that's often hard to crack. I've been lucky to crack certain people's sabra-ness, like Assaf the Laundry Man and Ya'akov my makolet (little market) guy. But most others make me want to remain a defensive island unto myself, which thus perpetuates the viscious cycle.

The struggle I face now is what to do with all this negativity. I don't want to feel this way about Israelis, or about Jerusalem. I want to see more good. I try to find the positives in every situation; to convince my friends that there are silver linings to every cloud. A realistic optimist, they call me. Above all else, I try to find the humor in the ridiculousness. Sometimes it helps to just shrug your shoulders and laugh.

But there is a very real problem here, a problem I'm determined to confront and overcome in the next six months. That problem is, how do I support a country (financially, spiritually, emotionally, educationally, and all sorts of -llys) when they seem so clearly disinterested in me? Not just as a female Reform rabbinical student, but as an American Jew? Sometimes I sense this Israeli attitude that, simply because I'm an American Jew I have a natural obligation to support Israel. What's the point in wooing me if I'm already committed?

At the same time all these thoughts are raging inside me, I am completely convinced that Israel is the most fascinating country on the planet. Learning the history and sensing the culture, you can't help but be enthralled by its very existence. And unlike what you see from the window of a tour bus, living here is a completely unique experience. I'm thrilled to be doing it like I am, because it feels authentic. Like it or not, I'm really seeing Israel. When May eventually comes and I return to the people and place I love, this experience, good and bad, will stay with me the rest of my life.

In case you hadn't gathered it already, I miss all of you very, very much. Many hugs and much love to California.

שלום וברכהת

Jaclyn

Barack and Berlin

2008-11-13T17:01:00.007+02:00

OBAAAAAMAAA!!!!

Shalom, my faithful readers!

First, an apology. So many wonderful things have happened the past few weeks, and I bet you thought I was too cool to write about them. And I was.

But I have since developed a bit of humility, and am now ready to relay to you all the thoughts and feelings and emotions and pictures that have captured world events of the last few weeks.

Let us begin with Halloween. For those of you not hooked up to Facebook, I dressed up as Sarah Palin. I won the HUC costume contest. I pretty much rocked everyone's socks. And I believe Obama's victory was one hundred percent due to my incredible costume.

I can see Russia from my house!

A few days later, in our early hours of November 5 I, along with three HUC friends, departed for Berlin, Germany on a four day conference. Called "Lech Lecha: Jewish Journeys," it brought together progressive Jews from Europe and Israel to learn, pray, commemorate, and be Jewish. It was an amazing experience in its own right, but the fact that it began with us watching election returns at Ben Gurion Airport and witnessing (along with the rest of the world) as Barack Obama was elected 44th President of the United States; well, that made it incredible.

Tears of joy for Obama.

It is really and truly hard for me, a woman rarely rendered speechless, to fully put into words what I felt when the political pundits of Fox News (of all stations!) proclaimed Obama the victor. Though it wasn't exactly a surprise, the reality of it; actually watching the moment with my own eyes, gave me a feeling of genuine joy I have not ever experienced in my life. It was elation, happiness, relief, excitment, and hope rolled all into one. I cried on the phone to Adam and my mother. I hugged my friends and danced in the terminal. It was a moment of sublime happiness, and I'll never forget that moment.

We arrived in Berlin to a world that seemed a bit different; happier, lighter, and more optimistic. I asked so many people how they felt about Obama winning, and every person responded the same way: "It's great! No more Bush!" Some said they thought Obama represented a new kind of America, that it was great so many people supported him, and how happy they were to have a new "political family" in the White House. Others suggested that Obama will be positive for the international community, that his ideas are better and more in touch with what the world needs. It was certainly the talk of the conference, and I was incredibly proud to refer to myself as hailing from "the United States of Obama."

So, yeah. That was pretty awesome.

Brandenburg Tor (gate) at the center of the city.

So... Berlin. What a city. It is both progressively modern and totally haunted by its past. Walking around, you feel that something truly awful happened there. I don't know how to explain it. At the same time, I could see myself living in Berlin. It was beautiful, well-designed, clean, efficient, (the buses were early, people) and altogether Western-influenced. There's also some really amazing culture there, from the art museums to live performances to gorgeous street graffiti. It's a throbbing city, full of new life and energy, yet still trying to redeem itself for the crimes of its past.

It's interesting to note that the people were either ridiculously friendly, or I've been in Israel so long that a smile and "hello" seemed like overt hospitality! Really, the people were delightful. I never felt uncomfortable, I always felt welcome. It was a happy respite from the attitude and coldness of Israeli culture.

We managed to do some sightseeing, which was both fun and exciting and yet totally painful. The Reichstag, Holocaust Memorial, Checkpoint Charlie, and Berlin Wall were so moving; you really see this city for what it was. We all needed to just sit down and have a beer after several hours of fierce emotional tourism. But all in all, it's a really amazing place to visit and experience. I highly recommend it.

With fellow HUCsters at the Reform Synagogue of Berlin

The conference itself was wonderful. Though the content wasn't highly intellectual, it was a fabulous experience. I met people from all over Europe and the UK. They were involved, progressive Jews and leaders within their communities. They wanted to create an active Jewish environment for them and their friends; essentially hoping to rebuild communities destroyed by the Shoah. It was true heroism, and I feel fortunate to have met with them, talked with them, and heard their stories. As with most conferences I've attended, the real meat of the gathering occurs outside the lectures and meetings. It was there that I developed a new understanding and appreciation for European Jews.

With Adam's Uncle Tom and Aunt Lilka at Jaffa Gate in Jlem

Finally, just to go totally out of order, I had a wonderful visit with Adam's aunt and uncle the night I left for Germany. It was so lovely to see them, and to be reminded of the people I love back home. Though I knew I loved my people before I left, the distance has made my heart grow so much fonder. I miss all of you so deeply and cannot wait til the day I can hug you again.

Sending you so much love from Jerusalem,

Jaclyn

So, about that election...

2008-10-25T09:57:00.004+02:00

According to my sources, something major's going down in the US of A on November 4.

Even though I'm 6,000+ miles from home, living in a country so often spoken about by US politicians and reporters it might as well be denoted the 51st state, my entire being has become consumed by this American election. And while I hate to sound preachy, I just have to say it: Never before has an election been so decisive, so pivotal, and so unbelievably important to the future of my country and our world.

When I first realized I would not be in the states for the 2008 election, back when I thought my girl Hillary had a shot at commander-in-chief, I was devastated. Having volunteered for Kerry's campaign in 2004, and actually believing in him and what he stood for, I felt a certain obligation to work on behalf of the Democrats and do all I could to support their candidate. I wanted to be caught up in the energy and the excitement of an election. I wanted to register people to vote and educate them on the issues that matter! But mostly, I just wanted to slap a cool bumper sticker on my car.

Fast forward to Hillary losing the primaries, Barack Obama, for whom I had medium feelings, stepping up to the plate, me realizing that this election was going to be absolutely insane, and thus coming to terms with being removed from the mud-slinging and the name-calling; the finger-pointing and the negative press. I was actually kind of relieved to be outside the states for the election, though I vowed to take my rights seriously and vote absentee. (Which I did on Wednesday)

But over the last several months, I've realized that I am my mother's daughter. I am simply too fascinated with politics and dreams and the potential of human beings to sly away from the excitement. I simply cannot deny my concerns, my curiosity, and my love of people, the future, and my own citizenship. So since August, I've been following this election religiously.

Since August, around the time I watched his major DNC speech in Denver, I have fallen in step with the ideals of Barack Obama. I have come to see him as a leader that can not only bring about change, but can make others believe in themselves and what they are capable of. I have read his policies, and now know that they are totally in sync with mine. I have watched him speak to crowds of supporters and groups of indies, and seen him handle it all with ease. And especially recently, I have watched him take all the attacks and vitriole against him and rise above it, which says more about his character than any political ad, endorsement, or editorial could ever do.

Is he perfect? No. No person is. We forget that when we watch these people compete for our affections, and our votes. And whoever steps into the Oval Office on January 21, 2009 has more work to do than any of us could fathom. But in my bones, I feel that he is a great person. I feel that he can guide this country back on the right track. And I feel that he can put people in his cabinet, and appoint people to office, that will stand up for what is right and decent and progressive. I feel that he will make wise choices, lead effectively and intelligently, and above all else, he will point the country in a better direction. I believe in Barack Obama.

I've gotten into some heated discussions here about the virtues of McCain and Palin. A friend suggested I hate them and their party so much that I won't even bother considering them. And well, that's just not true! I don't hate Republicans. I feel that they represent a certain set of beliefs and principles, and for the most part, they're just not mine. In a perfect world, that would be okay. It would be enough to call a spade a spade, say we're different, and go on our merry ways toward the voting booth.

But unfortunately, that's not enough anymore. McCain and Palin represent a not-entirely-new mentality based on negativity, hate, and fear. I've watched both of them, observed their campaign, and more important than anything else, I've read where they stand on the issues. Suffice to say, I completely and totally disagree with what they stand for and the methods they're taking to garner support. I feel they would direct this country in a worse direction than we're already in; not because of who they are, but because of what they say they want to do!

I cringe when people say Bush's intelligence is enough to hate him. He's not an idiot, and that's not a reason to detest a politician. You look at what they stand for. You read what they have to say. You see who they appoint to positions and what they themselves stand for. You observe how they handle themselves in pressured situations, both home and abroad. You ask yourself if this person represents you, and your family and friends, and actually cares about their futures. You have to put your faith in your leader, and my faith is simply not with him, or with John and Sarah. It's with Barack and Joe, and it's staying there for good.

So, yeah. I'd say this election is pretty important. It's important to me, just Jaclyn, the woman who's studying to become a rabbi in the holiest city in the world. It's important to Adam, my beloved, living in liberal blue-state California, hoping Public Health will receive more attention and funding than it is now. It's important to my parents, my grandparents, and all their friends, worried about their investments and the hard-earned money they expected to last them through their lives. It's about the people I've never met in New Orleans, still picking up the pieces from Katrina and wondering when they'll actually get their fair due. It's about people all over America, in poor towns, in rich towns, red states, blue and purple, curious as to what the future has in store for them. And, it's about people the world over, looking towards my country and seeing what move we'll make next.

But it is probably the most important to those who have yet to come to be. To these future generations, what kind of world are we leaving them? What will those who come after us inherit, and how will they approach our creation?

VOTE.
-Jaclyn

Mom-o y Mono

2008-10-21T15:50:00.008+02:00

Hello, friends!

I am writing to you from the confines of my living room, swathed in sickness and doused in warm liquids. A week ago I was diagnosed with the kissing disease, known throughout the world as mono. Who I got this from, I have no idea. But someone really nasty either sneezed in my coffee or spit in my cereal... and as a result, here I am! Swollen glands, intense fatigue, and an altogether bitter taste in my mouth about the sanitation (or lack thereof) in the Middle East.

The past couple of days have been a doozy, but the ultimate highlight was having my mother here with me. I believe it to be some sort of divine intervention that she scheduled her trip in conjunction with my diagnosis.

With mom in front of my apartment

It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful to have her here. For the first few days I was feeling fine, so we managed to get in some great sightseeing. We took in Yad Vashem, the shuk, Caesaria, Haifa, Akko, and Rosh Hanikra (all along the northern coast) and lay on the beach in Tel Aviv together. Though the mono posed a hindrance, it did not diminish from the joy of just being together. It also reminded me of how much I miss my family and home.

In the beautiful grottoes of Rosh Hanikra, the northernmost coastal point of Israel

My mother was here during the week of Sukkot, or "festival of booths." It's a holiday that commemorates the Jews wandering in the desert for forty years and making makeshift huts for themselves as temporary housing. It celebrates God's benevolence, for the people of Israel never had to strive for anything, as long as they kept their faith in God.

Personally, I found Sukkot to be a wacky, fantastic, and cool time to be in Jerusalem. Sukkahs sprung up in every corner of the city, and Jerusalem itself received a downpour of tourists of all faiths. Walking through the city, I noticed sukkahs on balconies, in front yards, back yards, and on the street! Restaurants erected them for their more religious customers and decorated them to the high heavens. It was altogether awesome, and fascinating to observe.

Mom in front of a massive restaurant sukkah in the Mamilla Mall

Posing with my landlord Naomi, her husband Yankele, their kids Yuval and Roni, and my roommate Lauren, after Shabbat dinner in their sukkah.

Perhaps the best part of having my mother here with me was getting her to see my life in Jerusalem. She met some of my friends, saw my neighborhood haunts, experienced the massive shutdown known as Shabbat, and managed to see the front facade of HUC. (They're all locked up for Sukkot) As we walked together through the streets of my city, it became more familiar to her. We visited as a family back in 1997, so to come back and see how this place has changed was interesting, to say the least.

Following a get-to-know-my-friends dinner with Lisa, Leslie, and others.

All in all, I would have loved for more time with mom, but the mono made things difficult. After a week together, she headed back to Los Angeles and I crawled into bed. So far, I haven't emerged from the apartment. When I will, no one knows! For now, I'm just trying to keep the faith and stay strong! Any wishes of wellness, you know where to find me!

So from Jerusalem to wherever you are, I'm thinking of you.

Much Love,
Jaclyn

High Holiday Reflections

2008-10-11T16:55:00.005+02:00

Well, the High Holidays came and went, as I expected they would. And though some elements were very powerful, I was left with an Almighty Feeling of Blah as the last moments of Yom Kippur petered out; as cars returned to the roads and people returned to their kitchens.

As a whole, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in Jerusalem are two very unforgettable experiences. The city literally shuts down for both days, though YK is its own bag of tricks when it comes to city abandonment. On these two holidays, every Jew is in shul, or walking to shul, or getting ready to go to shul. The entire city becomes captivated by a specific moment in Jewish time. That, in and of itself, is amazing to behold.

The normally packed intersection of Ramban and King George on Yom Kippur: people taking to the streets, and not a car in sight.

Services were just a bit disappointing this year, and that was an unavoidable letdown. I expected more from them; more engagement, more participation, more warmth. Instead, prayer was cold and disjointed, peppered with moments of holiness and excitement. It was indeed a great experience to hear my friends sing, and to pray with the walls of the Old City directly in front of me. But I wasn't all that moved by services; I was moved instead by my own memories, my own private prayer, and my own internal reflections whilst praying with a group of Reform Jews.

Simply "being" here during the High Holidays was a different story, though. I had so many communal meals; festive and delicious gatherings of HUC peers and new friends. And that in and of itself was great. I had a fabulous time simply "being;" focusing my entire presence on living and soaking in High Holidays celebration in its different capacities.

With Meredith and Joel at Leslie's Rosh Hashanah 2nd day dinner

HUC students sure can cook!

Squeezing in every last ounce of fun at 11 Ramban's break fast

Perhaps the most meaningful component of my High Holidays experience was taking a long afternoon walk, meditating, and writing on Yom Kippur. After four hours of being preached at during morning services, I was just plain old done. So, I set out on a journey, armed with only my thoughts, some paper and pen, and just thought. I thought about what I want out of this year, and where I could have been a better human being last year. I meditated and pondered what I want for myself and those I love. Thinking about the future, my career, my relationship, friendships, and that which has yet to be, was cathartic. It truly reconnected me with my reason for being here.

Yom Kippur sunset on Ramban.

And finally, I will say that the silence on Yom Kippur is astounding. I knew leading up to it that would be the case, but the reality of having not a single car on the road for twenty four hours was incredible. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was open. People walked in the streets, hurrying to shul or to their own private celebrations. It was really a marvelous thing to participate in, and I'm glad I got to experience that very infamous Israeli moment in time.

Until next blog,

Jaclyn

Three months IN... Eight months to go.

2008-10-04T10:45:00.004+03:00

Two days ago I passed the three-month mark. Three months here in Jerusalem. This is officially the longest period of time I've spent abroad, (Spain was just under three) and the longest I've gone without seeing my family. Had I not worked SO hard for my Student Visa, I'd be kicked out of the country now that 90 days are over. Luckily, I did get it (six days before departure, let's not forget) and therefore am allowed to stay a full year. Phew!

I think I've hit a bit of a slump here, punctuated by moments and days of pure joy and satisfaction. I attribute this slump to many things, the first of which being Adam's absence. In the days and weeks since he left I've gone through a roller coaster of emotions. I've vacillated between confidence and loneliness, excitement and disappointment. Mostly, I feel like I'm redefining myself as an individual, not as one half of a super-awesome couple. I'm standing on my own two feet without the beautiful Jew Fro behind me, cheering me on.

Granted, I do speak to Adam every day. And I see his face on Skype all the time. But it's just not the same to be here without him, and to be physically apart is brutal. Thus, as I continue to evolve here, some days are harder than others. Some activities make me miss him like crazy, while others, like going to Tel Aviv with my girlfriends (see below) I'm completely fine. The bottom line is, this year in Israel is tough to begin with. Going about the day-to-day without Adam by my side makes it just a little bit harder.

Another slump-y situation I've blogged about before is my spiritual quest here in Israel. I came here with an open mind and a desire to become more spiritually aware. I came here as a lover of prayer, and as someone who feels connected to God. I figured there was no place on earth I would be more comfortable praying as a Jew than Israel. This is, after all, the homeland of the Jews. Doesn't every Jew belong here? Isn't it true that the closer you get in proximity to the Western Wall, the louder God hears you?

Sadly, I feel that my quest for deeper spiritually in Israel has been a major disappointment. I can't seem to find a comfortable place in which to pray, or a community where I feel welcome. My HUC bubble is fine, but it doesn't feel completely authentic; there's something a bit off about the prayer we participate in. Perhaps it's the fact that we're engaging in American-style prayer abroad, and it's led by former Americans who've made Aliyah. There's a lot of cross-cultural confusion there.

It's also the tremendous feeling of tension and division amongst Jews here. I can't speak for other parts of Israel, because all I really know is Jerusalem. But either way, I feel the spiritual air here is so tense you could cut it with a knife. People are so used to fighting for something that they shun outsiders and are therefore naturally unwelcoming in their communities. Luckily, from time to time you find the occasional exception. But even those exceptions have their shortcomings, and I am left with a strange sense of homelessness when it comes to prayer.

School is another story. While I'm still completely enamored with what I'm learning, I'm starting to feel deeply insecure about my intelligence and my abilities. While I love my class, being surrounded by 41 people just like me is a bit difficult. We are all going after the same goal, which is great. But, some have more experience with the academic side of Judaism than I. Some seem to have a MUCH better ability to retain information than I. And, I consistently feel that my California upbringing puts me in a totally separate category. I think I'll need to devote a completely separate blog post to that.

The bottom line is, the past few weeks I've tended to look at this year like a prison sentence; a sentence I'm eight months from completing. But I don't want to have this attitude! This year is a gift, and I'm completely conscious of it. I want to appreciate it and live it up. But all these external negative factors are getting in the way, and putting me right in the thick of a push-pull battle between my happiness and frustration.

Luckily, yesterday I had a wonderful tiyul to Tel Aviv with my friends Meredith and Leslie. It felt fabulous to just get out of Jerusalem and head to an actual, thriving, bumping city. Now, let's remember that Tel Aviv is a representation of everything Jerusalem is not. It's footloose and fancy-free. It's rebellious, and slightly dangerous, and all-encompassingly badass. The beach is therapeutic, the shopping is divine, and the non-Kosher food is just... well, amazing.

The tiyul was exactly what I needed: some relaxation, some time away from Jerusalem, and quality time spent with good people. I'm glad we went. And perhaps the most awesome part of our adventure was meeting kind, sweet Israelis; genuinely good-natured, calm people. We had a great conversation with an Israeli now living in Belgium on the sheirut back from Tel Aviv. Just talking to him and gleaning some of his positive energy was a delightful experience.

So, to conclude yet another sermon-esque blog post, I will say this: I miss California like crazy. I'm making the most of the day-to-day life I lead here in Israel. I'm enjoying my classmates and really am having a great time. But the word Israel literally means "one who wrestles/struggles with God," and I feel that completely encompasses my experience here. To live here is to struggle, and not just with God. Struggle with oneself and one's people, with one's spirituality and with one's emotion. With one's past, present, and future.

So maybe I'm exactly where I should be.

-Jaclyn

Party like it's 5769...

2008-09-29T22:47:00.004+03:00

It's officially Rosh Hashanah here in Jerusalem: the start of a new year. It's hard to believe the High Holidays have begun, even though the deluge of Chagim-inspired advertisements began to permeate Israel a few weeks ago, and in spite of the recent, fall-inspired change of weather. It's hard to believe, even though every single checkout clerk and waiter, telephone operator and bus driver, is wishing me a Shana Tova.

It's hard to believe it because I'm not where I always am: somewhere in California, leading services, with my family as my guests. Wearing a suit and tallit. Surrounded by Throat Coat, bottled water, and stacks of music. It's the first year since 1997 (that's 11 years, people) where I am not participating in High Holiday services in some way. So it just feels bizarre, and unusual.

Quite honestly, this didn't impact me until I actually sat my ass down at services tonight. I'd been operating on this mentality that I was totally, one-hundred percent excited to be here in Israel. That I was one-hundred percent okay with being a participant in services. Of course I missed being with my family, and being the Shaliach Tzibbur, but I wasn't really thinking about any of that. I was more mentally immersed in soaking up my High Holiday experiences here in the Holy Land than in lamenting the life I used to lead. This could be looked at as a good thing by some.

But then tonight actually happened.

Tonight, while sitting amongst my friends in the Blaustein Ballroom on HUC's campus, I had tears in my eyes and pride in my soul. In that beautiful room overlooking the Old City, I listened as my cantorial student friends sang beautifully. I contemplated the meaning of my existence as Rabbi Marmur delivered a fantastic, stirring sermon. I laughed and clapped with my classmates through a five-course dinner and rousing song session. I looked around and thought, "Wow. It IS a new year, and I'm here celebrating it with all these wonderful human beings." Far from home, but still enveloped in a whole lotta love.

As I listened to the choir, comprised entirely of cantorial students (all female) and a few rabbinical men, it really and truly hit me that that part of my life is over. I had a moment, during Nancy's Avinu Malkeinu solo, where I really got it. I am no longer going the route of the cantor. It's officially over. The career I wanted, the training I devoted myself to, it's all over. I believe it led to something truly wonderful, something I was simply meant to do. But perhaps I needed this High Holidays in Jerusalem to really accept and acknowledge the loss.

The problem is, I love this music terribly. I think it is so beautiful. I still have a tremendous connection to all of it, and wished at several points this evening that I could be up there with them. As a student rabbi, and hopefully in my career, I will definitely be able to sing. I WILL learn guitar, and I will play it. I will lead services, and I'll rock the Janowski Avinu Malkeinu. I will make it happen, and it will be on my terms.

Last September I was tiptoeing into a new world, fairly certain I wanted to become a rabbi. And now, twelve months later, I am here in rabbinical school, where I felt I was always meant to be. It's funny how things come full circle. And it's odd how feelings you thought were lying dormant deep inside you bubble to the surface at the most random of moments.

All in all, it was a deeply moving and powerful service. It evoked feelings and memories within me from years of prayer at Stephen S. Wise. And it brought me even closer to my classmates and friends, all of whom I think so highly of.

So to each of you I send my warmest hugs and my best wishes for a sweet, beautiful new year. Even in these troubled times, in America and abroad, may we hold on to a sense of optimism that if we will it, things will indeed become right again.

Much love,

Jaclyn

The joy in the struggle

2008-09-22T18:36:00.003+03:00

Something peculiar is happening to me here in Israel. Something I suspected would happen, but not to this extent. It's something I feel so proud of, yet terribly surprised by. It's perplexing as to why it's happened after Adam's departure. And all of it has been on my mind all day, through the rigmarole of my life as a rabbinical student at a Reform seminary in religious, pre-Chagim Jerusalem.

As I distance myself further and further from my former life, I find myself more and more captivated by the direction I'm heading towards. I'm walking into school each day more eager and excited to learn than I ever was in high school or college. I'm cultivating incredible respect and deep admiration for my teachers, and furthering bonds with future colleagues and friends. I open my books and feel enchanted by what they can offer me. I'm hanging on every word in lecture. I feel so tremendously blessed to be receiving this education. I'm participating, I'm engaged, and I'm fully present in this role as student; as rabbi-to-be.

Perhaps the most surprising of all, I'm starting to feel a part of my community. I smile at the familiar faces and they smile back. I laugh at the young boys with peos and tzitzit playing in the park near our apartment. I have short, simple conversations with locals in Hebrew and walk away with a smile on my face. I have a genuine relationship with my laundry man, who recently welcomed a baby into the world. All this after two months of only observing obnoxious Israelis, shockingly expensive groceries, and 20-year-old pregnant married women pushing baby strollers. Two months of heat as intense as the dialogue between Israelis and Arabs. Two months of discomfort, of unsettledness, and of acclimation.

After such a rocky start to fall semester, where I felt way in over my head and completely vulnerable due to Adam's leaving, this all seems so strange and sudden. It's only been two weeks. I still feel like I know almost nothing, and am still a little lost in certain classes. But it doesn't matter. I'm finding joy in the struggle. It baffles me, and yet makes me smile, as I'm sitting in Hebrew class partially understanding two-thirds of what's being said. I confidently chime in during Rabbinics class, though my words may be wrong.

I just feel, at this moment in time, like I was meant to do this. After all the bullshit I had to go through with cantorial school and having to essentially redefine my identity, it makes me all the more appreciative of exactly where I am. I feel so blessed and so fortunate to be here, and believe so strongly in what I'm doing, that it outweighs the homesickness and the longing for the life I left behind. My complete and total immersion into this whole program is something I've never really done before, but I like it. And I want it to continue.

Adam's being here throughout the summer was the most wonderful, helpful, and genuinely kind things anyone has ever done for me. Giving up his life, giving up a paycheck, simply to be here with me and help me acclimate; I don't know what I did to deserve such a gift. I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it until the day I die. It meant the world to me, and I am so glad we got to share that time.

But while he was here, I had the biggest reminder of the life I loved in Berkeley sitting right next to me every day. I looked at him and thought of Cheeseboard, the apartment on Bonita, the Marin Headlands, and the green rolling hills of the East Bay. I thought of us falling in love all throughout California during the summer of 2003. And with every passing day, in the back of my mind I knew that he would one day be gone; that I'd be alone here in a foreign land, forced to redefine myself as an individual: as Just Jac. I dreaded that day for months, yet when it finally came and went I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. And though I miss him terribly, I feel good knowing that I can do this year on my own.

All these realizations have been compounded by the fact that I'm approaching the Yamim Nora'im, my favorite time of year. Jerusalem is preparing itself for this sacred time. Fall has started and the weather, while still hot, is shifting towards cool. People are readying themselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually. You just can't help but think of where you are, and where you're going, at a time like right now.

So here I am in Jerusalem, having this peculiar epiphany. I will continue to ride this wave, and hopefully blog about it as well. Until then, I wish you all a wonderful week.

Todah Rabah,

Jaclyn

Back on track!

2008-09-20T11:04:00.003+03:00

Shalom Chaverim.

The lack of blogging the past two weeks has left me with pains in my fingers and in my soul. I've been so busy, so incredibly pressed for time, that this is really the first day I've been able to blog since our return from Istanbul. It feels good to finally sit down and blog it all out. And, it's fitting that Shabbat, my day of rest, is also my day for re-connecting with home and my feelings. But, it's also a day for working: on school, on homework, on the things I've needed to do but haven't had time for. It's a day to confront that which I've neglected. Shabbat is a complicated day, but this is a complicated place, so it goes with the territory.

In the heat of the moment, it was difficult to find the right words to express my immense sadness over Adam's departure. It was truly one of the hardest, most gut-wrenching experiences of my life to say goodbye to him. I'm feeling stronger now, and know in my heart these nine months apart will help us grow as individuals and as a couple. I'm so grateful to the creators of Skype for enabling me to chat with Adam while staring at his beautiful face, as this was something we lacked while I was studying in Spain in 2005. But I miss his warmth, and his physical presence in my life. I look forward to the day when I can just hold him again, and know it will come. I miss him dearly.

School starting was a huge kick in the ass, and I felt totally overwhelmed the first week. I have nine classes... NINE! But I'm starting to get the hang of it and feel more secure in my lack of knowledge. Most of these professors are incredible, and I feel so blessed to be learning from them. Sometimes I feel totally out of my league, and sometimes I want to stand up and cheer over some intellectual breakthrough. But mostly, this material fascinates and enchants me. As we get deeper into the year, I'll have more specific and concrete things to say.

This past week we traveled up north to the Galillee and Golan Heights for a school trip. It was great, and done well, and organized properly. It was on this trip that I had my first "Aha!" moment about Israel. I finally started to get it; how and why this tremendous connection between the people and the land exists here. I finally started to crack the surface; to understand why this is seen as the Jewish homeland, and why there is such an immense fight over keeping it for the Jews. People making Aliyah also started to make more sense to me, as we met with many people who encapsulate the "New Jew" philosophy. I'm still formulating my opinions about it all, and perhaps a later blog post is in order to fully encapsulate my understanding. But either way, I am really starting to get it. And I'm happy that the getting it is occuring.

Last night I attended services at Kol Ha Neshama, a Progressive congregation here in Jerusalem. It was the first service I've attended here in J'lem, outside of the HUC campus synagogue, that reminded me of home. Almost everything was in Hebrew, but the physical space, the set up, the prayer melodies, and the rabbi's way of running things, were all reminiscent of California synagogues. I enjoyed myself, but didn't feel entirely connected. Still, it was a spiritual breakthrough in what I've come to recognize as a somewhat frustrating prayer experience here in Jerusalem.

What I've ascertained is this: in my former life, my Jewish practice was a choice. I chose where to pray, where to get involved, and what community to belong to. I was lucky to have a relatively decent buffet of choices in San Francisco, and I fell in love with Emanu-El's congregation. I chose my choice, and I chose well. Here in Jeusalem, I feel that my Jewish practice is less of a choice. It's encouraged, and sort of forced upon us, to pray at specific places on certain dates. (Last night was set up through the school and the synagogue, and all my classmates were required to attend) I have yet to find a place that I'd go out of my way to pray at, or a rabbi who I truly connect to besides the ones who work at HUC. It's just a very different environment here, and a different way of doing things.

I also think my initial experiences at the Western Wall had a psychological affect on my perception of prayer here in Israel. The fact that the wall felt so segregated, anti-feminist, and closed off to anyone non-Orthodox, coupled with its status as the holiest site in the world for Jews, probably set me off in some way. Feeling one hundred percent secure in my affiliation with Reform Judaism, I find it hard to connect to God in a place so clearly dominated by an Orthodox mindset.

My hope is to get past all this, because even as I write it and think it, I see it as trivial. Prayer comes from the heart and soul, and that's where my prayer has always come from. I think I've just been very lucky that the physical spaces and communities I've prayed in have been open, welcoming, and beautiful. But now I'm on unfamiliar, tense ground, praying in vastly different spaces. My prayer compass is out of whack, but I think it will get back on track. I want to learn to get past the external, and think I have the ability to do so here in Israel. Time will tell.

For now, I'm looking ahead to the Chagim. Rosh Hashanah begins in a little less than two weeks, and I could not possibly be more excited to celebrate it here in Jerusalem. I've always dreamed of being here during the High Holidays, and am so excited to experience the power and awesomeness of it all. I don't exactly know what to expect, but know that I'm praying with HUC in a beautiful physical space overlooking the Old City. I think it will be incredibly powerful and definitely interesting! I'm also really excited that my mother is coming in just a few short weeks. The thought of getting a Jill Fromer bear hug excites me to no end!

So Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem. Take care of yourselves, have an excellent weekend, and know that I am thinking of all of you from many miles away.

Lots of love,

Jaclyn

Istanbul (not Constantinople)

2008-09-04T18:22:00.011+03:00

Istanbul is truly one of the most amazing, fascinating, interesting, and beautiful cities I have ever been fortunate enough to visit. Adam and I just returned from five days in the city formerly known as Constantinople, and it was a truly wonderful journey. So wonderful, in fact, that I am currently downloading almost 500 pictures from our trip onto my computer.

When we first decided to spend our hard-earned shekels up north in Turkey, we were shocked by the reactions we received from friends and family. "Are you sure you want to go?" they pleaded. "Istanbul is NOT safe." "It's a Muslim country, guys. You'll stick out like sore thumbs." Best of all, a member of Adam's family who we love dearly suggested he shave his head, for fear that his treasured Jew Fro would get us mugged, kidnapped, or worse.

Perhaps Adam and I have both shed some paranoid skin since arriving in Israel (which, let's not forget, is still on the United States Travel Advisory watch list) or maybe we just ignored everyone's negative comments. Somehow our desire to explore the world won out over the tremendous fear imposed upon us. Baruch Hashem to that.

Istanbul is a beautiful, modern, bustling city. Turks are unbelievably kind and gracious. About 95% of the people we saw wore tank tops and jeans; very few women wore full burkas. Walking through the city streets, you really sense how alike we all are. Their human needs are our human needs: live life, enjoy the company of friends, celebrate holidays, provide for our families, and love one another. Adam and I never once felt unsafe, or in danger, or even uncomfortable. All the hype about terrorism and political unrest? Phooey. We didn't catch a single whiff of it.

From these five days, we garnered an understanding of a culture totally different from our own. We saw how Istanbullus live, and it fascinated us. We ate how Istanbullus eat, and it filled our hungry tummies. (And upset them a little, to be fair) We marveled at the vast number of sights to see in Istanbul, from the soaring minarets of the many mosques to the expansive grounds of their two gorgeous palaces. We saw religious sites, historical sites, and sites so awesome we could barely believe our sight.

We even celebrated Ramadan as Istanbullus do! (Minus the fasting) It began the evening we got there, and lasts until the end of the month. On Tuesday after sundown, we went to a Ramadan festival in the Old City. Suffice to say, it was awesome. Thousands of people and dozens of booths selling food, candy, ice cream, tchotckes, etc. The vibe was so positive. It was just so fun to partake in, and it shed light on a different side of human interaction we might not have seen at another time of year.

Perhaps the most fantastic part of being in Istanbul was simply driving around in the taxi cabs, and on the double-decker tour bus. Each time we entered a moving vehicle, the radio was blasting uniquely Turkish music. And it was just fascinating, exotic, and all-around stirring music to listen to. Our vision and perception of the city came with a soundtrack, and we loved it.

All in all, it was a simply marvelous experience. I could not get enough. I'm sad to be back, but eager to start the school year this Sunday. It's shocking to me that our fall semester, and our core rabbinic classes, are finally starting. It's exciting to be at the threshold of something new, knowing it will be compelling and soul-stirring. I can't wait!

Now for some pictures:

Welcome to Istanbul! This is the view from Galata Tower, situated on the Golden Horn side of the city. Behold the Bosphorus river, which divides European Istanbul from Asian Istanbul. Istanbul is the only city in the world which straddles two continents.

Adam nearly flies above the Blue Mosque, also known as Sultan Ahmed Mosque, in the Old City. The "Blue" factor pertains to the tiles inside, which, strangely, are not all blue.

The Blue Mosque at night, during the Ramadan Festival in the Old City. In Turkish, Ramadan is spelled "Ramazan." We're pretty sure the sign says: "This is a mosque, and it is Ramazan."

Inside the Blue Mosque. Notice my ultra-chic head covering.

In the Old City, after our tour of the Blue Mosque. Behind us is Haghia Sophia, undoubtedly my favorite site in Istanbul. It was built to be a church in 537 by Justinian, converted to a mosque several hundred years later, and it's now a museum. It was so massive, so impressive, and so amazing to behold.

Inside Haghia Sophia... but the picture really doesn't do the place justice.

Another incredible sight: the Basilica Cistern, also built during the time of Justinian. (6th century) It stored and distributed water to ancient Istanbullus. It was absolutely stunning, and our walking tour had a beautifully creepy soundtrack playing throughout. Kind of like the "Are You Afraid of the Dark" opening credits song.

The view from our hotel window at sunset.

At the Ramazan Festival with our travel buddies Leah and Adena (from HUC) Sadly, this was the only picture I got of the four of us!

At the entrance to Topkapi Palace, the primary residence of the Ottoman Sultans. This place was massive, and unlike other European castles/palaces, this one had a distinctly Oriental feel to it. And the Harem, where the Sultan's thousands of wives, concubines, and sometimes illegitimate children lived, was awesome.

Just a super beautiful color combination of tiles in the Harem.

To close out our trip, we attended a performance of Sufi music and dance held at the train station. The men dancing above are known as whirling dirvishes. They whirl to get closer to God. Again, another fascinating sight to behold. One man in particular had the calmest, most peaceful look on his face as he spun. He was in it.

I hope these pictures give at least a small glimpse into the city that is Istanbul. It is a spectacular place not just to visit, but to really and truly experience.

Until next time!
-Jaclyn

History and Religion and Politics... oh my!

2008-08-29T15:28:00.004+03:00

On Tuesday we HUCsters reached the end of our summer Ulpan. After six long weeks, it was quite thrilling to say "l'hitraot" to my teacher. I actually quite enjoyed the experience of Ulpan, and found it a great way to begin our year in Israel. There wasn't a tremendous amount of pressure, the assignments were easy, and it was fun to get acquainted with my peers in such a low-stress environment. But I realized halfway through that my teacher's funny antics and lack of structure were hindering us from learning. I definitely didn't improve my Hebrew as much as I could have, and blame the summer heat for my lack of personal motivation. Thus, when Tuesday rolled around I was plenty glad to bid farewell.

Our ten-day vacation began with a tiyul up north, to Megiddo and Carmel, for our "History of the Bible" seminar. Before I lambast the class, let me say, I think the seminar has enormous potential. There is so much to be learned, and I believe we all have the desire to learn it. But the class is taught poorly, we march around on these tiyulim in sweltering heat and none of us can focus, the professors don't connect us with the material as I believe they can, and its status as a "pilot program" convinces me they haven't thought it through very well. It's disappointing, because there exists such wonderful opportunity for doing more than get tan and take cute pictures:

Adam and me make like our ancestors at the Carmel Caves

Lisa B (rabbi-to-be), me, and Leslie (future cantor) in the cave

The nice thing about our tiyullim is, they end with a trip to the beach. It's always so necessary to plunge into those warm waters of the Mediterranean. It has gotten so incredibly hot here in Israel (even hotter than July, when we first arrived) and when you're walking around all day, sweating like crazy and feeling like crap, it really is a wonderful treat to jump into the sea.

So, here I am, looking ahead to five days in Istanbul (we can't wait!) and a chance to breathe and mentally prepare for my fall semester. I am truly looking forward to starting my hardcore classes, like History and Liturgy and Rabbinics. I really feel more and more each day like this is what I was meant to do, and where I was meant to be. Even while disappointed with my summer classes, I still feel confident, excited, and optomistic about the future.

Speaking of optimism, I spent most of the morning watching YouTube videos of the DNC speeches. Today I caught Michelle, Hillary, and Barack. Hillary's speech moved me to tears, and Barack's sent shivers down my spine. It's hard to explain the immense feeling of patriotism I felt while listening to their words and perceiving each of their fervent desires to bring forth tremendous change. Being so far from my homeland, in a country that does not, and probably will never, feel like home, added to the impact of their words.

I miss America. I miss my home. I miss my family and California and the people who make up the wonderful life I lead. I feel honored and privileged to call America my home, especially while here in Israel. It's not that I have anything personal against this country; I certainly don't. But it's streets and trees and valleys are not mine; they are Israel's. The government belongs to its people; Israelis who live and work and raise their children here. Its soldiers fight for the future and perpetuation of the Jewish state, and to them I will always hold immense respect. But this is not my country, and this is not my home.

I believe so strongly in the words spoken by those at the Convention, not because I am a Democrat, and not because of my feelings regarding our current US government. I believe in these words because they encourage every human being to believe in their potential. I wholly support the inspirational message that every man, woman, and child can achieve great things if they set their mind to it. I cannot think of a more positive message to send to America, and to the rest of the world: believe in yourselves, and anything is possible.

Perhaps it was no coincidence that, just a few hours before watching these videos, Adam and I were working out at the gym alongside Benjamin Netanyahu, the former Prime Minister of Israel. (And future PM too, according to our trainer Ido) It was completely exciting, and he's looking good for 58. I couldn't help but stare at him and wonder, what has this man been through? What secrets is he privy to? How much of an impact did he have on Israel, and on world politics? To see him running on a treadmill in workout clothes reminded me that he is, just like all politicians and celebrities, just a human being like the rest of us.

Adam's return to the states is coming up soon, and I am not the only one dreading it. My classmates have fallen in love with him, and many of them have mentioned how sad they will be when he leaves. Having him here has been a truly beautiful experience. Seeing Israel through his eyes, perceiving my future here with him by my side, has been flat-out amazing. I will miss him greatly, but know he is off to begin a wonderful journey at UCLA.

Us at the Jerusalem Time Elevator, which you can read all about here.

The end of the summer always poses its own questions about the passing of time, people growing older, and good things coming to an end. The Yamim Nora'im, (High Holidays) are around the corner. Another season is ready to begin. Students will return to classes, families will come back from vacation, and people will begin their next cycles together. May it be a wonderful cycle for each of you, a year filled with promise, excitement, new adventures, and tremendous positive change for our countries and our worlds.

With love,
Jaclyn

Birthright... Birthrate...Boozeright... or Beautiful?

2008-08-23T11:57:00.008+03:00

Last night I had my first major encounter with Birthright Israel. Birthright, for those who don't know, is a totally free 10-day trip to Israel whose purpose is to connect, or reconnect, young North American Jews with their Jewish identity. Its other, less obvious purpose is to get young Jewish men and young Jewish women to hook up, fall in love, get married, and have Jewish babies.

The program began in 2000, just after my parents shelled out a considerable amount of money for their sixteen-year-old daughter to spend a month in Israel with NFTY. Years later, I paid the price for this seemingly positive purchase. My status as someone who had already been on an organized trip to Israel deemed me 100% forbidden from participating in Birthright as a young adult. In the eyes of Bronfman and Steinhardt, I had already been convinced of Israel's magic, and thus, some other American twentysomething deserved to go instead.

Every day on my walk home, I pass the Prima Kings Hotel at the corner of King George and Ramban. Each day it seems there is a new Birthright bus unloading kids and luggage. A new, completely enchanted group of twentysomethings stands there, hanging all over each other, looking a bit dazed and hungover. They look up and snap pictures of their hotel and of each other in groups of three; big smiles on their faces as they connect with other Jews. It happens nearly every day, thus convincing me that Birthright has permeated the city of Jerusalem.

Last night, my friend Meredith asked Adam and me to join her in singing and playing guitar for the Birthright group her boyfriend was in. She even threw in a delicious homemade dinner prepared by her and our friend Ari. We willingly obliged, and headed over to the Montefiore Hotel around 9:30pm. We arrived to find tables of twentysomething Americans talking, laughing, and having a great Shabbos. Only upon closer inspection did I realize that everyone was drinking, and there were bottles of booze and wine everywhere.

We moved the group outside for the song session, and the booze followed. As the music began, I looked around to see some people having trouble standing up. People were kind of leaning on each other, acting progressively sillier, and singing louder and louder. While I'm sure they were having a grand ole time, I was kind of uncomfortable and somewhat grateful when my mother called midway through "Closer to Fine" to talk about her trip to Israel in October.

Now, I'm no Prohibitionist. I like to think wine is the perfect way to wash down a meal. And just the night before a group of us had a fabulous time celebrating Ari's birthday with tapas, sangria, and alcohol-fueled karaoke singing. Yet, something about this gathering of people reminded me of college. It sounded exactly like Adam's experience on his Birthright trip, and it even reminded me of when those six Canadian boys got "caught" drinking on my NFTY trip and nearly passed out from dehydration the next day at Masada. (Dudes, seriously, what were you thinking?)

I couldn't help but wonder... (in true CB style) are these people having an "amazing" experience on Birthright because they're partying the whole time? Or are they really, legitimately seeing and hearing and breathing Israel and connecting to something whole, something Jewish, and something real?

And then, something rather odd happened. A young man named Andrew came over to introduce himself to me. I immediately liked him, for I am drawn to anyone with the same name as my brother. (Or my mom, or dad, or even Chewbacca our dog... though that's less common) He started asking me questions about where I was from, and what I was doing here.
Upon explaining my purpose for being in Israel, his eyes lit up. He proceeded to confess to me that this was a wholly transformative experience for him. Andrew grew up with a Jewish mother and Christian father, they gave him the option to choose and he never really did. He had always been ambivalent about religion but curious about Judaism. He agreed to go on Birthright when his Jewish friends convinced him it was worthwhile.

Andrew informed me that, here in Israel, he had never felt so Jewish, he had never felt so connected. He could not believe how it had happened, and only after a few days. He felt that Israel welcomed him with open arms, and that this was indeed his Homeland. He wanted to return to Miami and seek out a Jewish community for himself. Best of all, he was interested in becoming a Bar Mitzvah at the age of twenty-six.

I told him that, as a future rabbi, this was music to my ears. His motivation to seek out a Jewish identity separate from his parents or his background was, inevitably, a truly wonderful result of Birthright. Booze or no booze, this young man will come away from his time in Israel with exactly the kind of philosophy Birthright wants him to have. A committment to Eretz Yisrael, and a desire to create a Jewish community for himself back home.

I can't help but hope Steinhardt and Bronfman are reading this post and grinning ear-to-ear.

Adam and I returned home soon after Andrew's confession. I thought about the whole thing on my walk home, and wondered if maybe I've been to critical of Birthright to begin with. Perhaps these people crave their Jewish community, and alcohol helps accelerate that process in the short 10 days they have here. Who am I to say that booze should not be responsible for helping people solidify their Jewish identity? And how can I possibly be so judgemental about a group of strangers with such a short time together on an organized trip abroad?

Last night I realized I need to cut Birthright a little slack. The program, for all its mishegas, can be a tremendously positive experience for people. The way in which other Jews connect with Judaism is really none of my business; each person is entitled to their own conduit through which to renew their interest in being a Jew. I think one's experience should be shaped by a truthful, realistic portrait of the country they are visiting, and not just the view from the Birthright bus window. Yet I also know my own travels abroad have painted me a certain picture of the places I have visited. I have not always been privy to the frustration and squalor that exists in every country around the world. This is the hard truth of travel.

The moral of the story? Everyone is entitled to their opinion, their experience, their feelings. I believe every Jew should come to Israel and live and breathe this country. How people get here is entirely up to them. What people do here is entirely up to them. It is my hope as a future rabbi that people connect (or don't connect) with Israel based on legitimacy and truth. It is my hope that people see as much of Israel as they can, for this country has a tremendous lot to offer the world. Finally, I hope that people do seek out all kinds of connections here. The word "connection" seems to encompass so much of what I seek, and what I hope to pursue throughout the rest of my life. Therefore, I hope others use that theme of connection and apply it to their own perception and comprehension of Judaism.

To close, I will say congratulations and Mazal Tov to Barack Obama and Joe Biden, the world's newest It Couple. May they have a long and happy life together!

-Jaclyn

Go North, Young Zoog

2008-08-19T15:05:00.012+03:00

This past weekend, Adam and I took a romantic tiyul (trip) to the northern coast of Israel. Our sojourn began on Thursday afternoon in Netanya, where we returned to the Sugar family's beautiful home for one night. The next day we toured the ancient ruins of Caesaria with Tal and his mother, then spent Friday evening and all of Saturday in Haifa semi-on our own.

I absolutely love spending time with the Sugars. They are good hearted people who feed us delicious foodstuffs. They want to know who we are and attempt to connect with us on different levels. I feel incredibly fortunate to benefit from their hospitality. It warms my heart to see Tal and Adam together. Not only do they slightly resemble each other, (they are blood related, after all) but they get along like brothers. Their bond is so strong, in fact, it provided Adam with his all-time best jumping picture ever among the Roman ruins of Caesaria:

Team Awesome.

Caesaria is a very interesting place. To modern Israel it is essentially a coastal resort town, replete with golf courses and luxury hotels. It looks very lush and green from the car window. Yet the "city" of Caesaria is actually a national park filled with ancient Roman ruins from thousands of years back. You can literally walk anywhere and do anything amongst these ruins, then have a delicious and pricy lunch at one of the uppity restaurants in the park. The town itself is right on the ocean. It's really quite exquisite.

Love on the Rocks. Aint no big surprise.

We walked amongst the ruins for a good two hours. Unfortunately, our pamphlet-guide didn't provide us with enough information to ascertain what we were specifically looking at at any given time. So, we played and laughed and made up stories. We enjoyed. It was lovely.

I say, that a-way.

By noon the heat and humidity were so intense, we could barely function. We sat down for a lovely lunch, recharged, and promptly headed toward the train station to transport ourselves up to Haifa. While Caesaria was beautiful and definitely contained some great things to see, we felt we'd seen it all after only a couple of hours. Future tourists, take note.

We arrived in Haifa around 3 in the afternoon, only to discover the town was shut down. It was more like a ghost town than Jerusalem on a Saturday. There was literally not one shop open, and not one soul walking the streets. There were only cars whizzing past us, and even they were few and far between.

Haifa itself is very impressive from afar. As we pulled into the station we remarked on how much it resembles San Francisco, which of course made me nostalgic and slightly emotional. (More on that later) The vast bulk of the city is built into a huge hill, (Mt. Carmel) with white buildings dotting the greenery and huge hotels at the very top. It really is a sight to be seen.

Yet as we walked the .02 miles to our hotel, we realized that the port area (which is most likely the first thing tourists see, as it is at the base of the hill) was completely derelict. It was disgusting, actually. Buildings were falling apart, graffiti and garbage were everywhere. It was totally unsettling. Luckily, our hotel (which was in this area) was a gem. We had a great room, great service, great breakfast, and it was cheap. But from the beginning, we both felt that Haifa was a bit of a weird city. And the next day, that sentiment was reinforced tenfold.

Saturday morning. Haifa central. Breakfast in our stomachs, coffee in our bloodstreams. We met up with Adam's Israeli-British friend Amy, whom he met on Birthright and who lives in Nazareth. (Like Jesus!) The three of us set off to do as Haifians do. Only one problem. There were no Haifians to speak of. Again, it felt like a ghost town.

Luckily, the Haifa Museum's Contemporart Art wing was open. So, we wandered through the museum's bizarre and totally awesome Israeli Art from the 80's exhibit. It was really interesting and totally wacko, but we enjoyed it. Following that was lunch in the Arab Quarter. I still have no idea what we ate, but it was really delicious. And finally, we hiked and huffed and puffed up to the Science Museum, which was like a poor man's Exploratorium for children. It was there that we found every single Haifian in the entire city. Literally, the place was bursting with people.

At long last, 3pm came around. This was the time of our designated tour of the Baha'i Gardens, the crown jewel of Haifa's tourism. The Baha'i Gardens are essentially a series of perfectly manicured terraces built into the entire length of the slope of Mt. Carmel. Those who practice the Baha'i faith come there on pilgrimmage, as it is the 2nd most important site in the world for them. The gardens are actually quite gorgeous, and the enormity of their presence can be seen from just about anywhere in the city.

From the top mid-afternoon

From the bottom mid-evening

And stuck in the middle with Amy

Our tour was free, but we had to make an appointment. Apparently there can only be so many people in the gardens at any given time. Our tour was entirely in Hebrew, and at a certain point I gave up trying to translate due to sheer exhaustion and overheating. We started at the tip top of the gardens and walked down the ridiculous amount of symmetrical stairs. So basically, we started at the top of the mountain and worked our way down to the very bottom. By the end, or legs were shaking, our hearts were racing, and we were all in desperate need of some ice cream.

Post-snack, we met up with an old friend of mine from Davis, Shirley. She was born in Israel, raised in Davis, attended UCD, graduated in June, and is currently living in Haifa and working at the Technion. She picked us up in a fantastically air-conditioned car and drove us all around the parts of Haifa beyond the ridge of Mt. Carmel. We saw SO much! So many things were open! So many people were out and about! And there was so much beyond the hill... it really blew my mind. Thank goodness for Shirley and her lovely, lovely car.

We made our way to the pristine beaches of Haifa just as the sun was setting, and the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner on the sea. It wa so wonderful to see Shirley, and to bond with Amy. That dinner was a delightful end to our interesting, sweat-filled day.

Me, Amy, Shirley, and that gorgeous sea.

By nightfall, Adam and I were on an express bus to Jerusalem. He does a much better job of summarizing the ridiculous antics that occured upon our arrival, so I'll send you to his blog!

All in all, it was a great weekend. We enjoyed ourselves in each city, even if some of the moments aired more on the side of muzar (strange). Haifa is physically a beautiful place, especially those glorious beaches. I want to return, mostly to explore the land that lies beyond that hill! And I will say that, while I respect Jews' need to observe and honor Shabbat, I think it's ridiculous that the majority of the city felt completely shut down (more so than J'lem!!) in the midst of tourist season. I mean really, what do Israelis do when they need a little vacay? They have the same days off as we.

Haifa succeeded in reminding me of how much I miss the Bay Area. I was already feeling pangs of homesickness, but Haifa solidified my deep deep longing to be back in the city by the bay. And even though I'm still enjoying myself greatly, and discovering new things and new places each day, there is a part of me that craves my old life, my friends and family, and my network of love. So, if you get a chance, send me an email, or even a letter! Know that I miss home a little bit, and think of it often.

Much love,
Jaclyn

Tisha B'Av

2008-08-10T17:07:00.005+03:00

Today is a very strange, sad day in Jerusalem. It's Tisha B'Av, the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av. It was on this day in 70 CE when the Second Temple fell to the Romans and Am Yisrael, the people of Israel, found themselves in exile. What makes this chag unique is that today in 2008, there is an Eretz Yisrael: a homeland for the Jews. While the Temple no longer stands, the fact that Israel exists as a country makes Tisha B'Av a strange, somewhat confusing holiday. Why lament the loss of something when you have it again, in different form, today?

I had heard of Tisha B'Av before, but never given it much thought. I knew what it commemorated, but it never packed a punch. I gleaned no meaning or significance from this chag, seeing it as merely another time when the classic Jewish holiday mentality was repeated: "they tried to kill us, they failed, let's eat!"

Yet as I expected, experiencing this holiday in Jerusalem gave me a totally different perspective.

Last night, soon after sundown on Shabbat, the entire city came alive with a bizarre, ruthless energy. Hundreds of people made their way to the Kotel (Western Wall) to mourn and lament the loss of the Second Temple. We HUCsters attended a service on campus and made our way to the wall around 10pm to experience the unique feeling of being there on a seemingly sacred evening.

The women's section of the wall, Tisha B'Av

As we walked the streets of the old city, we found ourselves caught up in the rush of the crowd making their way to the Kotel. Surrounding us were people of all ages, wearing all different kinds of clothes, behaving in all different ways. Teenagers in trendy clothing laughed and joked and pushed each other; young men in black suits carried what looked like sleeping bags, cooking equipment, and folding tables. There were tiny babies being pushed around in strollers and old men and women walking slowly and carefully. Everyone had the same goal: Kotel or bust.

Now, keep in mind that before last night, the Kotel was not my favorite place in Jerusalem. My two visits since my arrival have left me frustrated and disappointed on a variety of levels. I had no intention of praying last night; I was there merely to observe.

Besides the masses of crowds, which I expected, there were some pretty disturbing sights. The women's side was absolutely packed; it was so tight, you couldn't get through. The men's side had an abundance of room for anyone with a Y-chromosome. There were tons of people all around, some of them looked incredibly depressed, crying and lamenting. There were Haredim looking focused and angry; women in wigs pushing baby strollers and avoiding eye contact. Teenagers were smoking cigarettes (!?!), gabbing on their cell phones, smacking each other around, and behaving, in my opinion, inappropriately.

There was no cohesiveness, no warmth, and no general feeling of communal suffering. Everyone was in their own world, or in their own group, or just not at all interested in making unity. It felt like someone had taken the state of Israel, in all its internal and external conflicts, and amplified it to the umpteenth degree.

I don't know exactly what it was, but being present and watching this scene made me suddenly and inexplicably angry. I felt rage in my fingertips. I wanted to get out of there immediately, and I was upset with myself for feeling that way.

I found Adam in our meeting spot far from the wall, embraced him, and started whispering in his ear how uncomfortable I was. No sooner had I wrapped my arms around him than an old religious man started screaming at us in Hebrew. I wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but I could figure from his gestures that our embrace was offensive. And within two seconds, a female guard approached us and physically separated us from each other.

Well, that about did it. I got so angry, so pissed off, so enraged, I nearly exploded. I stormed out of that courtyard with tears in my eyes and vowed to Adam not to return for the rest of my time here.

Last night was a perfect example of exactly what which enrages me about Judaism's role in Israel. Last night made me feel like an outsider. Not welcome, not wanted. Not included, and not really "Jewish." Like a stranger in a strange land. What kind of Judaism is this? The Judaism that exists at that Wall is not an empathetic, welcoming, loving language of God. It is separated, divided, incomplete.

Back on Reform Judaism's turf this morning, I felt much more comfortable and secure learning about Tisha B'Av. We had a series of discussions, text study, and T'filah in place of normal Hebrew today. It was truly fascinating to learn about it from HUC's faculty. From my teachers I learned that Tisha B'Av represents something major in the collective Israeli consciousness. It represents every loss, every exile, every promise of peace slaughtered before our eyes. It is a huge, major holiday... and learning about it while outside the confines of the the Haredim, (which I learned today means God-fearing) it made much more sense.

Last night was tremendously disappointing, but today renewed my faith. To me, even that painful admission is a representation of Judaism. The challenge, the defeat, the return. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Tisha B'Av has blown my mind, and I'm glad that I am here in Jerusalem to experience it.

-Jaclyn

Family and Friends

2008-08-08T15:26:00.007+03:00

Well, the illness I spoke of in my last post finally faded into oblivion. In the end, it turned out to be a nasty stomach virus (not "digestive troubles, as Dr. Know-Nothing assessed) and eventually it passed. I missed three days of school, but gained three days of rest. Adam took excellent care of me and continues to watch over my health like a hawk. An adorable hawk with a 'fro.

My body healed in time for the weekend, so we traveled north to Netanya to visit more of Adam's extended family. To say it was a wonderful experience would be a huge understatement. It was an incredible two days on so many levels, and I was thrilled to be included in all that we did.

Not only does Adam have a huge family in Marin, but his parents, uncle, and grandparents have invested a tremendous amount of time and energy into maintaining connections with their extended relatives all over the world. It's amazing to me, and I wish I had that with my own family. Alas, the Fromer and Hoffman clans are a small bunch, and to my knowledge there are few relatives to speak of abroad.

Adam with the Sugar Mishpucha

The entire Sugar family lives in Netanya. Mom and Dad are Alex and Ruth. Their kids are Anat and Dana (both married with two children each) and Tal is their twenty-four-year-old son, who still lives with them. Ruth's mother, named Marta, was Adam's paternal grandfather Leo's sister. Marta died over two decades ago, but Leo continues to stay in touch with the Sugars.

The Sugar parents own a beautiful home not far from the beautiful beach. We arrived in the early afternoon on Friday, spent a little bit of time at their home, and then Tal drove us down south to Tel Aviv (about a 20 minute drive) so we could walk around the ultra-chic port Tayelet, eat a sushi lunch, and swim in the sparkling Mediterranean.

Adam, Tal, and the Mediterranean Sea

That evening, Alex and Ruth invited the entire family over for an extremely delicious Friday night dinner. I think they were initially uncomfortable with my presence there as a female future rabbi, but I later realized their concern was that I would be disappointed with the lack of Judaism. There were no candles, no blessings, no nothing. And quite honestly, I didn't care. It felt like Shabbat to me because of the gathering family, and the warmth and love. I explained to the whole family exactly what I am doing here in Israel, and the unique nature of the Judaism I believe in. I think they understood.

The Friday night dinner was an amazing thing to partake in. The little kids were screaming, the adults were talking maher maher in Hebrew, the food and sodas flowed endlessly, and it felt like a true, delightful family meal. Adam was in his element, and those beautiful blue eyes of his sparkled as he connected with these people; his relatives, his family, his blood. By the evening's end, we were exhausted and full with huge smiles on our faces. It was just a great experience.

All of us conversed in decent English and broken Hebrew. My attempts to communicate with the four and five year old little ones were particuarly embarrassing. As soon as I saw them walk in I thought, "hooray! Little people I can talk to in Hebrew!" Yet I was mortified to discover that their Hebrew speaking skills could kick my own English skills at the age of five. I could barely understand them, they were so good. It was maddening, yet kind of hilarious.

Now's probably a good time to mention that my Hebrew has, regrettably, gotten worse since I arrived. I'm not quite sure why, as I spend four and a half hours a day in Hebrew classes. I honestly think the issue here is with Israelis speaking Hebrew here in Israel. It's a particularly muffled, mumbled, incoherent vernacular; I don't even think Israelis understand each other's words! They just moan and grunt in such a pattern that they quasi-comprehend one another. Unfortunately, I have yet to cross the threshhold of speaking Israeli Hebrew, and feel that I am falling behind because of it. I fully intend to do everything necessary to pull myself through it and kick ass on Ivrit. Just so you know.

Anyway, back to the weekend. Saturday was spent walking around the Seven Stars Mall in Herzliya. This was such a trippy, welcome respite from the deafeningly quiet Shabbatot of Jerusalem. First of all, the mall was packed. Absolutely packed. It was such an Anglo-cized mall, and looked uncannily like Fashion Square in Sherman Oaks. The fashions were just as sexed-up and indecent as they are in the states, and there wasn't a single "religious lady" store to be found. It was awesome. Not because I have anything against Middle Eastern malls or fashionable Orthodox women. But it was awesome to observe Shabbat life outside of Jerusalem; to see culturally-identified Israeli Jews enjoying their weekend.

Eventually it came time to bid the Sugars farwell, for the time being. Adam and I will probably stay with them again next weekend. They were incredibly kind, generous, and lovely. And it's safe to say Adam and Tal got along like best friends. Adam seems to bond with every long-lost family member he comes in contact with, and it's really wonderful to behold.

We headed back to Jerusalem in time to catch Mamma Mia at the Malcha Mall. (considerably less Anglocized than Seven Stars) The movie was awful, but kind of hilarious. And we were with a huge group of HUCsters, so it was loads of communal fun.

We've settled into a routine here in Jerusalem and at school. It's good, sometimes monotonous, but always interesting. Something new happens every day here. Partially it's because HUC designs it that way, partially it's because we're still at the beginning here, getting to know each other. And the newness of it all is still fairly fresh and exciting. The people are still great, the classes are still fun. We're all still discovering and gaining our ground.

My only regret is that I am not spending more time exploring my spirituality. I've been to several services at HUC, but have yet to venture out into greater Jerusalem for T'filah. Hopefully that will change tonight, as Adam and I intend to visit Har-El Synagogue here in Rehavia. But beside that, I feel that I am not committing myself enough to prayer. I know this will change as time goes on, but for now I'm feeling spiritually confused amongst all these different kinds of Jews in J'lem.

To close out this post, Tuesday Night was the first Beit Cafe (Coffee House) of the year, held outdoors at HUC. It was such a lovely evening; there was dinner, drinks, and lovely performances by my classmates. Adam and I performed two songs together, and it brought back many Nick Roth Trio/Mazeltov Cocktail Memories. I love singing with him, and hope that it continues upon my return to Los Angeles. Here is a pic of us singing together, behind us is the sun setting over the Old City in Jerusalem.

Take care, Much Love!

Jaclyn

No Country for Sick (Wo)Men

2008-07-30T14:00:00.004+03:00

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

2008-07-26T16:20:00.010+03:00

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

2008-07-23T18:07:00.004+03:00

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

2008-07-20T16:57:00.008+03:00

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

2008-07-16T16:20:00.005+03:00

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

2008-07-14T12:48:00.005+03:00

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

2008-07-12T14:18:00.005+03:00

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

2008-07-09T17:11:00.005+03:00

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

2008-07-08T23:49:00.006+03:00

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!

2008-07-08T10:19:00.001+03:00

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...

2008-07-06T11:03:00.000+03:00

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

One day to go...

2008-06-30T11:02:00.000+03:00

Since that evening in late March when I found out I'd been accepted to rabbinical school I have encountered the widest gamut of excitement, anxiety, and stress one can imagine. And each week, with its set of new promises and challenges, had me thinking to myself, "well, at least I'm not leaving tomorrow." Nearly every day the past three months I've thought this, trying to assuage my anxiety by convincing myself there was still time. Still time to make plans, still time to say goodbye, still time to deal with whatever I needed to.

Now, the day has come where my departure is, in fact, tomorrow. Like any major life cycle event, the countdown to showtime climaxes with the feeling of one-day-to-go. Just one more day to get every last minute thing done, say every last word you need to, make every last phone call, and do all that is necessary to ensure you'll do exactly what you've planned to do for so many months. That day is today, and I simply cannot believe it.

The past week of my life I've felt like the star of my own freak show. Between leaving Berkeley (which was achingly difficult to do) and battling the Israeli consulate for my visa-stamped passport (just as emotionally draining) I feel exhausted and somewhat defeated. It's been mildly exciting making all these trips to Target and Costco, but I feel so guilty for spending so much and making a mess of my parents' living room. I'm certain I haven't been as pleasant or appreciative to my family and Adam as I should have been, focusing on the stress of what wasn't getting done, rather than the pleasure of accomplishing what was finished. But I guess that's just the way I roll.

To be fair, my overwhelming feeling right now is one of great anticipation. I am really, honestly and truly excited about this upcoming experience. I think it will be amazing, and I am truly excited to return to Israel after eight years. I've looked forward to the year in Israel since the day I decided to consider becoming a cantor. I always thought spending a year in Jerusalem would be incredible, and always thought I'd have a wonderful time.

On the other hand, I'm a little bit upset about being out of my comfort zone for a whole year. Not three months, or six months, but a year of my life. While I know I can do it, and that deep down everything will be okay, I'm just kind of scared. And a little bit sad. I love California, I love my family and friends, and I'm not all that keen on spending so much time away from it all.

I would imagine that everyone else in the program is feeling similarly right now. I mean, how could they not? Every major life cycle moment has the potential to be bittersweet: exciting and daunting at the same time. I guess that's just what keeps us getting stronger.

I bid you all a wonderful day... relax and decompress for me!

Love, Jaclyn

2008-06-26T23:01:00.000+03:00

I GOT MY PASSPORT!!!!!!!!!

Oh sweet Lord, Baruch Atah Adonai, all that is holy, THANK YOU!

For the last week of my life, I've been in a bitter custody battle with the Israel Consualte over the love of my life, the cream in my coffee, my winning lottery ticket: my passport.

As is the case with most custody battles, they wanted to keep it for themselves. Apparently they wanted to play in the park with it, teach it how to catch, and buy it a nice dinner in Union Square. They tried to win it over. Alimony be damned, they wanted it bad.

Finally, they grew tired of it. They realized what hard work it is to have a passport. Albeit, they came to this decision several weeks later than I expected them to. It probably had something to do with my dozens of aggressive, obnoxious phone calls and messages. My intense persistence. Or my completely unbearable anxiety. One way or another, I won it back.

So, here I am, happy as a clam, kissing my passport and welcoming it back where it belongs: with its mother.

Peace be the journey.

Goodbye, Berkeley

2008-06-24T10:02:00.000+03:00

We moved.

Adam and I are no longer living in Berkeley.

We, along with all our crap, are now residents of Los Angeles for one week.

We leave for Israel July 1.

I cannot process it all.

Wah! I miss Berkeley!

Because (They) Loved (Us)

2008-06-16T22:54:00.000+03:00

Adam and I have both received a tremendous outpouring of love and support the past few weeks. It's been so heartfelt, so kind, and so honest. I thank you, our dear friends and family, for enriching our lives and filling it with love. It's tough to leave, but we'll be back soon! I promise!

This week is the beginning of the end, our last full week in Berkeley. We leave June 23 for LA, and fly to Israel on July 1. Our week is already jam-packed and I don't know how we'll get through it, but we will. I'm certain things will work out.

Walking through Berkeley the past few weeks, I've observed just how tremendous a place it is. There is something enchanting about Berkeley; I've always seen it, but my impending move has made me experience it in a different way. The energy is palpable, the greenery is lush, the placement across from the Golden Gate Bridge is inspiring, and the city itself is a magical place.

Thinking back to summer 2006, Adam and I had just graduated from our respective colleges and decided to move in together. A part of my wondered if San Francisco was a better place for a young couple such as ourselves; he was completely against the idea of moving to the city. Thankfully, we stayed on this side of the Bay.

After an agonizing and hair-raising search, we found this cozy apartment in a salmon-colored building on the beautiful Bonita Rose. We signed the lease and celebrated with Italian food. In August we moved in, bringing dozens of boxes with us. We built an entire repertoire of furniture from Craigslist. We built a life together, invited friends over for home-cooked meals, snuggled up to one another in the winter, opened the windows in the summer, and kept the place (reasonably) clean.

This apartment has been host to celebrations and defeats, pain and triumph, friends and family. Its walls have kept us safe for two years. And now that we're packing it all up and leaving the city that we love, there's a tremendous feeling of loss and sadness. I know I've blogged about this before, but it is really heartbreaking to leave a place you call home; no matter what that place is.

Well it's back to the trenches for me. Enjoy this priceless pic of the whole family at Andrew's graduation!

Love, J

A Change a Comin'...

2008-06-14T08:13:00.000+03:00

What up peeps.

Oh jeez, there is so little time left before I go. A little over two weeks. I got so anxious today I thought my brain was going to explode. Everyone keeps telling me, "make lists! Lists are helpful! Lists! Lists! Lists!" But the truth is, each list I make keeps getting longer... each time I cross something off, six more things take its place. I just wanna be done, you know? No more to-do lists!! No more to-do lists!!!

There is just sooooo muuuuuuch to do.

Anyway, this week my younger brother graduated from high school. It was incredibly moving and special to see him in his cap and gown. He performed thrice during the ceremony, and he was unbelievably good. I was filled with such a sense of pride; so much nachas! My brother has evolved into a wonderful, mature young man. It's just so hard to believe that he's about to start college.

All this transition is rather jarring. There's change afoot everywhere I look. Brother's going to college, Adam moves to LA for grad school after a summer with me in Israel, parents are becoming official "empty nesters," people are getting engaged, traveling, changing their jobs, going back to school... there is just an overwhelming amount of change happening all over.

Let's not forget Obama! Now, I have to admit I was a big fan of Hill-dawg. and a part of me was very sad when she resigned from the race on Saturday. But I do think Obama has a lot to offer, and more than anyone else in recent history he physically embodies the notion of "change." Watching his fist-pump with wife Michelle when he cinched the Dem nomination put a huge smile on my face. When it comes to change, he represents it to a very strong degree.

That doth rock.

I'll be in Israel in November, and I hope to devote much of my time to getting my fellow Americans absentee ballots and stuff. I just want to do all I can, you know?

Well, my brain is on overload and I can't handle much more. I have seven different gossip magazines to get through to distract me from packing, and I fully intend to indulge in them this weekend.

Everybody get down, get funky.

-Jaclyn

Good Morning, Good Morning

2008-06-07T19:46:00.000+03:00

Things are progressing at such a rapid pace now; it's hard to keep up. I feel like the days have sped by faster and faster since I left the Music Festival in April. It's kind of crazy how fast the weeks are going now! It's overwhelming me.

I've hit the moment where suddenly there's so much to do, and my mind is filled with anxiety about how to get it all done. The week of nothing, a la last week's post, should have been filled with small errands and things. I'm kicking myself for not taking more off my to-do list. But, I think last week was a weird form of procrastination. It's over and I need to move on!

I've started to dream about Israel. Weird dreams. Dreams that don't particularly make sense, aren't scary or nightmarish, but have some sort of meaning to them. I don't remember them all that well, just that my dreams involve my move in some way.

The one thing I do recall from last night had to do with being there and NOT being able to blog, (the horror!) Harry Goldenblatt being a former rabbi, and a movie theater on the same street as my apartment. Oh, and something that had to do with visiting Adam's family in Israel. They spoke in English, then randomly the mother would smack the family and tell them to speak in Hebrew.

Interpretations? Anyone want to be my Joseph?

Anyway, what else can I tell the general public... this week was my last week at Emanu-El. It was totally anticlimactic since there's absolutely no one there right now. I have to say it felt a little bit strange leaving. Not sad, not happy, not emotional or anything; just strange. A weird, bizarre feeling of emptiness or oddness. I can't explain it.

I wound up leading services twice the past week to fill in for the Cantor. That was a whole blog post of its own. It felt good to be back on the bimah, singing the same pieces that made me want to be a Cantor in the first place. I even sang the same piece from my audition, Sim Shalom by Michael Isaacson, one of my all-time favorites.

I have to say, it was very meaningful and poignant to do this right before I left. It gave me a chance to say goodbye, theoretically, to a part of my life that I'm glad is over. Being on that bimah, singing those songs, made me feel safe and comfortable in this new path. As much as I love the music, I can't stand the pressure. I can't handle the stress placed on my voice; the awkwardness of trying to convince a congregation to sing opera with you. I love music so deeply and always will, but I want it to be something I enjoy and do because I want to. I want to sing out in praise, not sing to get people to pray.

I don't know, in some weird way it all makes sense to me and I'm thrilled about becoming a rabbi. I do anticipate some sort of weirdness when we get to Israel and it really hits me that I'm not in the program I always thought I'd be in. It will take some getting used to.

So now I bid you adieu, as I head off into the great blue yonder and figure out how to pack up this darn apartment. I hope you're all having a great weekend. Check back soon.

-J

p.s... Anyone want a couch?

SATC

2008-06-02T04:28:00.001+03:00

The movie was awesome. Soooooooo goooooooood. Anyone who says otherwise is just WRONG.

The fashion and materialism was a little over the top, and some of the situations were a little unresolved... (Anthony and Stanford???) but all in all, it was a great slice of Sex and the City pie.

Comfort in Calm

2008-05-30T07:40:00.000+03:00

The past several days have been blissfully calm, yet somewhat lonely. I've had the week off from teaching, though next week sees my last two days working at Emanu-El. I've had so little to actually "do," and for the first time in my recent memory, I've forced myself to do nothing. Literally. I've had to force myself to not set the alarm, not make plans, not drive to the city on impulse. I've forced myself to slow my body down, enjoy the calm, and not make myself crazy. I've taken a few naps, watched some horrible television, and above all else, I haven't felt compelled to be in a rush all week.

Now before you conclude I'm just gloating, let me assure you... this has not been an easy week. Since birth I've been on the go; I cannot remember a prolonged period of time where I chose to be lazy. Any eras of laziness were undoubtedly forced upon me. For example, the summer after high school the GAP hired me, then neglected to give me hours. Thus, by mid-July I was officially jobless, unable to find something else to do, and the endless UC summer became interminable. I hated that summer and craved something, anything, to do. I was antsy, bored, and uncomfortable in that state of mind.

I enjoy being busy; I like juggling different things at once. I'm more comfortable having a packed schedule with different things to do than I am just sitting around doing nothing and watching TV or sitting in an office staring at a computer screen. I thrive on being busy, but also commend others who do their best work when not under pressure. And, I look forward to my eventual career as a rabbi, where craziness and staying busy are the norm!

Anyway, I feel like I'm catching up on all the rest I missed out on during the last two years. All the rushing and the pushing and the nutso-futso-ness that ensued really took its toll. Going through those two physically and emotionally draining application processes, balancing three different jobs at once, the Hebrew tutoring, the voice lessons, and everything in between was not easy. It definitely made me into a stronger human being, but it was exhausting. Hence, I feel I deserve at least a week of chilling out.

It's very interesting to experience Berkeley during the hours most people are at work. Usually when I go out it's in the evening, and with Adam. I rarely, if ever, see people by themselves. Today, everywhere I went there were solitary people. People eating alone; people shopping alone. People armed with nothing but a book. People just wandering, enjoying their day. It was just so interesting to observe; so many people were alone, just like me. I wanted to talk to them, strike up random conversations, bridge the gap between us lonely folk. But most of these "loners" looked completely comfortable in their own solitude, and not at all interested in talking to the curious girl with the big mouth. So, I kept to myself.

In other news... this weekend is the premiere of Sex and the City: The Movie. Let me assure you, there are few other women in the world more excited to see this thing than me. I can quote episodes, dominate trivia contests, and rattle off about the social and psychological implications of Carrie and Co.'s trials and tribulations. I've looked forward to seeing the movie with my girlfriends for almost a year. I even watched a scene being filmed in New York when we visited in November!

But now that it's finally here, I'm nervous to see it. I've built it up in my head as the Most Amazing Movie of All Time. It's too much pressure! I've read the somewhat unkind reviews coming out, and they've made me a bit sad. I don't expect it to be amazing, I just want to enjoy it. To live and laugh with the characters of the show who have, rather unapologetically, become a major part of my life. Whether it's lame or not, the show has had an impact on my evolution as a young woman and my understanding of love and relationships. As unrealistic as the lives of the women were, the interaction between all the characters was very real, and very wonderful. I'm excited to see the movie, to be with my friends, and to laugh with the girls again.

It's time to go to sleep. I wish you all a lovely Friday, a Shabbat Shalom, and a restful weekend.

Love,
J

Memorial Day Thoughts

2008-05-27T00:54:00.001+03:00

The silence in Berkeley this past weekend has been deafening. Adam and I have taken several walks in our neighborhood and seen almost no one. There's very little traffic (which, I must say, is awesome) and the stores and restaurants just seem kind of dead. It feels just a little bit lonely.

The weather has been miserable this weekend, too. Chilly, gray, cloudy; I think it rained on Saturday night. It's oddly depressing and super confusing, considering last weekend it was 100 degrees in the shade. It was so hot the UC Davis sticker on the back of my car melted and burned into oblivion. This weekend, it's practically frozen back on.

All this has made me eerily pensive about Memorial Day. I once viewed the holiday as nothing more than a day off from school, tinged by the scent of grilled meat and frisbees gliding through the air. I used to think nothing of it; just an extended weekend, a day for sleeping in.

But today, for some reason, Memorial Day 2008 has taken on a different persona. This is the first year I've ever really thought about what the day means. Today for the first time, I stopped flipping through the channels when I got to Fox News, only for a moment, to observe the feed from memorial services for soldiers in Iraq or elsewhere.

I've spent a lot of the day thinking that Memorial Day honors those who died while they were doing their job. Men and women who handed themselves over to the government and said, "Here I am. I want to defend my country. Take me and train me. Do what you want with me. I'm willing. I'm ready." Of course, Memorial Day also honors those who perhaps weren't so willing. People who were forced, drafted, or pushed into doing something they didn't necessarily want to do. Those people gave their lives, too.

Memorial Day is not about politics. It's not about Bush or Barack, Hillary or Johnny MC; it's about people. Ordinary men and women who are no longer living. People who died doing what they were assigned to do: defend... whatever that word entails. And I think those people deserve to be honored, remembered, and thought about. So, I'm thinking about them today.

Next year in Jerusalem, I will experience a Memorial Day unlike any I've thought about before. Yom HaZikaron, which always falls the day before Israel's Independence Day, is a day unlike any other. There is a buzzer and everything stops; people get out of their cars and leave their offices to gather together and think: think about the many, many people who came before them. They gave themselves while defending their country. Defend... what does that word mean, anyway?

As my departure date draws closer, I get more and more excited and freaked out. Sometimes both emotions hit me in waves, and it's like a roller coaster to observe. What I look forward to most is having my mind open up as it never has before. Submerging myself in a completely different way of living life; experiencing what life has to offer in a completely new environment. Celebrating holidays and memorial days in a country so far away from my cozy California home. I look forward to having my mind blown in so many ways next year.

Bring it on.

You know what they say about big feet...

2008-05-22T08:00:00.000+03:00

At approximately eleven o'clock this morning, I, J.Fro of Berkeley, entered a war zone.

I'm not talking war zone like, say, the one I'm going to be living in starting July 2. And I don't mean war zone like Afghanistan or Iraq or even a diva-licious Hollywood movie set.

I entered what can only be described as the Valley of Forgotten Shoes. Or perhaps I shall call it by its appropriate title: The Nordstrom Half-Yearly Sale Shoe Racks for Well-Endowed Women.

For those of you who've known me awhile, you've probably been acquainted with my large (and dare I say well-groomed) feet. I passed size 10 toward the end of elementary school, and around seventh or eighth grade I established myself as a solid 12. Sometimes, very rarely, I can push my feet into size-11 strappy sandals. But this is a rare, and often celebrated, occasion.

As Nordstrom is one of the few stores that actually carries my size (less and less frequently as the years have progressed) I feel I owe it to myself to brave the first day of each sale, if I can. As brutal and as chaotic as the environment may be, it's worth it to hold those precious pieces of gold in your hands. The possibility of walking home with new footwear is a splendid high.

There's also a great comfort in talking to fellow big-footed women in your designated section. Those of us who leave a larger footprint commiserate with each other; we ruminate on how "nobody understands how we suffer" and "Our moms are so petite! How did this happen to me?" and my favorite, "If I ever have kids, I swear to G-d, I'm binding my feet."

We're like war buddies, us big-footed women. We know how it is. We've been dismissed from mainstream shoe stores, ignored by salesmen and women, shoved our feet into size 10s only to damage our pedicures; we've poured over Zappos and Piperlime and Nine West online, only to discover that the shoes we've paid an extra sum for in shipping don't fit at all.

We've walked past the "regular size" shoe sale racks time and time again, heads down in agonizing shame. We've been harassed, made fun of, joked about, laughed at, and yet we've still kept our heads high, all the while knowing that our feet give us a more solid foundation to stand upon than any size-6 pixie-footed shrimp.

But we're also a tad competitive; we're pushy and overbearing and want to make sure we get our hands on the Stuart Weitzmans and Sam Edelmans first. We're polite and kind, but deep down each of us has one goal: walking away with as many pairs as possible. We commiserate and we suffer, but we do it together. We go to battle with one another, and with our own two feet.

So I am pleased to report that I did find two pairs of shoes perfect for my Jerusalem adventure. I survived the war zone with my sanity intact.

Perhaps the so-intense-it-prepares-you-for-Israel factor was what made it so fulfilling, or perhaps it was just the fact that I had fun at the mall, but today was a good day.

I'm excited.

Early Ruminations

2008-05-20T07:37:00.000+03:00

The departure date and jumping-off point for my new life as a future rabbi is set for July 1. That's a little less than a month and a half away. A little less than a month and a half is not sitting well with me. I've started to get emotional, and that's just the way it is.

We sold two pieces of furniture and I cried. A 13-year-old girl and her father came by to check out our piano and I cried. I got the final version of our lease in my inbox this morning and I cried.

I watched Inside the Actors Studio with Sarah Jessica Parker talking all about the SATC Movie and I got totally, completely, all encompassing-ly ferklempt.

I like blogging. It helps to get the emotions out.

Introducing: Adam!

2008-05-19T09:57:00.000+03:00

This is Adam, posing with me at Picnic Day 08. He's a cool dude who likes to color inside the lines.

The first, the very first, the bright and shining promise of a new start

2008-05-19T01:30:00.001+03:00

Welcome one and all to my blog! I'm pleased as punch you've found your way here.

Stay tuned!