An Ode to the Israeli Bicycle Pump

Shalom, chaverim! When I was growing up, a standing joke in our family was whenever someone was trying to guess the contents of a wrapped gift, we would be sure to ask, "is it a bicycle pump?" Looking back, exactly why that seemed to be terribly funny to us, I really can't say. Sometimes it's the little things that stick in our minds, though, more than the Major Life Lessons or the "teachable moments (eww!)."

Dedicated followers of this blog (and you know who you are) will know that Elul and I bought bicycles soon after we made Aliyah in December of 2011. While we are now a one-car family (we bought a second-hand Citroen C4 about six months ago), Elul uses the car on a daily basis to commute back and forth to work. This leaves me with the use of my feet and my bicycle with which to do my own errands, to commute to work, and to get to evening lessons in my private students' homes. Since I'm so busy these days, biking is also about the only exercise I get now, so it also performs that function in my life.

I had to address safety and practicality with my bike right away. As is true with all cycling, readers, repeat this mantra after me: "Visibility is my friend!" I got a bright white light for my handlebars (because I want to be seen, rather than go into it), and a flashing red light for the back of the seat. In addition to my protective helmet, I also acquired an abandoned road safety reflector vest that someone wadded up and threw into a bush. (After a few rounds in the washing machine, it came out just fine; not pretty, of course, but very functional.)

A friend had upgraded his bike and had a leftover white wire carrying rack for the bike, which he kindly offered to me; with a handful of zip ties, Elul fastened it to the back of my bike in no time. My bike started out as a sophisticated little Italian number,  perfect for Euro-posing with a fragrant bouquet of wildflowers and a round of Camembert in its elegant wicker basket. But now, between the front basket, the back rack, the lights, the vest, the helmet, and my wonderful "Big Student" Jansport backpack firmly strapped to my ever-broadening middle-aged back, any hope I had of  being mistaken for a willowy extra from the central casting agency of France has been dashed like the dreams of an avante-garde poet who has received his first (and last) royalty check.

Once I started truly relying on my bicycle for efficiency, convenience, and the shared responsibility of getting my behind to the classroom on time, however, I realized I had to start paying a little more attention to those little things that make cycle commuting so much easier. For example, I need to keep my tires properly inflated. With my bike, I quickly learned, even a small drop in tire pressure can make riding about as pleasurable as trying to pull a tank down the road with your knees.

Shamelessly playing "the girl card" with Elul, a la "honey, would you be so sweet and go down to the storage room and put some air in my tires for this week, flutter flutter," led him to use the hand pump to pump up my tires a few times. However, this was tedious and difficult for him since a hand pump (which I had sneakily given to him as a "Hanukkah present," which was all part of my evil plot) wasn't really strong enough to do the job easily. On to me, he used his high skill in marital jiu-jitsu by quickly presenting me with the solution. "You want your tires pumped up? Ride down to the grocery store gas station yourself and use the pump there! I'm not going to be seen riding a girls' bike!" Game, set, and match. Well played, Elul, well played.

So I did, and oh! What a pleasant surprise and wonderful use of technology! On the air machine, which everyone can use for free, you can actually program in the exact air pressure you want for your tires. I needed 90 psi, so that's what I put in, and when I began adding air to my tires, the built-in, real-time digital gauge said I only had 64 psi in them. No wonder I felt so out of shape and cycling was so hard! Not only that, but when the air pressure in your tires hits the desired level, the machine lets out a rousing and satisfyingly long and loud "beep" to let you know it's time to stop.

One does not simply...roll around town with 25 psi in one's bicycle tires.

I bend my knees in respect to the power of the Great and Wonderful Electronic High Speed Bicycle Pump.

Oh, you Israelis, whatever will you think of next? This is the most wonderful machine I've come across in a long time. Whether you invented it or not, I thank you from the bottom of my heart to have the generosity and intelligence to make it available to the public. Now my bicycle floats along the speed bump-filled roads of Nahariya like a beautiful black butterfly...ridden by a dork.

Shabbat shalom, everyone!
 

Chag Purim Sameach!

Shalom, chaverim! It's been a couple of weeks since I've posted, and I have no excuse for my radio silence except for the usual double-whammy of being either too busy or too exhausted to write, and sometimes both simultaneously.

The funny thing about working several bazillion jobs (at last count) is that one's time very quickly becomes spent only in three ways: preparing for work, doing the work itself, and recovering from work. When my life gets like that, my observational blinders go on, and I find myself noticing very little about my surroundings, and lose that sense of wondrous excitement that I had when there was more temporal (and mental) "space" to appreciate my environment. Spring is on its way, but it took a friend to point out that the cherry trees are just about ready to blossom, and the fields are full of poppies and other wildflowers. Likewise, Mr. and Mrs. Bird, a relatively monogamous pair of sparrows who nest in our neighbor's overflow drain, have begun trying to make more Little Birds. With great enthusiasm, I might add.

Still, I've had a little bit of a rest these past days because in Israel, Purim is a two-day school holiday. And this year, unlike last year, I didn't crap out and fail to attend a giant Purim party. Elul and I went to the kibbutz at Rosh Ha'Nikra, where they hold one of the biggest Purim parties of the year. The cost was 90 NIS per person (about USD $22.50), and featured an open bar, food, decorations, and a very good DJ, complete with lights, fog machine, disco ball and even a couple of dancing girls with multiple costume changes. The DJ had a great mix of music, and it was wonderful to see hundreds of people, all in costume, just shaking it out there on the dance floor. Especially when we were dancing to Abba tunes!

Dancing Queens, indeed. Note the smoky atmosphere, NOT coming from my fake cigarette.

My costume was not particularly funny or outrageous, but it still meant something to me. My father, who passed away just three years ago, was a doctor with a great sense of humor. He loved costume parties, and always served as the master of ceremonies at his clinic's annual Halloween party. My stepmother was kind enough to give me one of his old lab coats after he died, so I decided to wear it to take a little "part" of him to the party with me. My costume was as a Russian-Israeli doctor who worked for an Israeli health fund, complete with dark circles under my eyes, long hair falling all over the place, bluejeans, lab coat, sparkly top, and a (fake!) cigarette in my hand. "Subtle" is what I was going for, although others could have just as easily tagged my costume as "lazy" or "weak." Never mind--I was wearing comfortable clothes and I was doing something in honor of my dad, and that was the only way I was going to go.

Other friends of ours were much more imaginative and colorful with their costumes. My friend Angie (above) is a Colombian-American-Israeli, and she went to great lengths to construct an enormous Carmen Miranda-style hat, with a pile of fake fruit glued on top. Handily, she can also use that hat as a centerpiece for next year's Thanksgiving. Her fiance Simon went as a "gorilla fighter" (geddit?), complete with a toy machine gun, a banana, and a card on his t-shirt that had "gorilla fighter" written out phonetically in Hebrew. Lisa and Jonatan also picked up on the Latin theme, and went as citizens from somewhere south of the U.S. border. Carlos went as the famous, masked, "Blue Demon" Mexican wrestler.

Left to right: Yours truly, Elul, Lisa, Jonatan, Simon the "gorilla fighter," and Carlos the "Blue Demon." Behind Lisa's head is a rendition of E.T.

Elul went as Yair Lapid, the leader of the Israeli "Yesh Atid" ("There is a Future") political party, with which Benjamin Netanyahu may be trying to form a coalition. Since Elul resembles Lapid quite a bit, his costume was a simple matter of dressing the way Lapid usually dresses (black t-shirt, black blazer, black jeans) and touching up his eyebrows with an eyebrow pencil to make them a bit bushier. To his credit, a few customers did a double-take in the grocery store, perhaps wondering if he was, indeed, Lapid.

Hottie Israeli politico Yair Lapid--thanks to Tikkun.org for this image. My hubby is hotter, though.

Elul. See? Told ya'!

So, we have lived to tell the tale of our first blow-out Purim party in Israel.  It's hard to believe this is actually our second Purim in Israel...at this time last year, we were so dazed and out of it from being so new here, we really didn't know how big a deal Purim was. This year, we were too busy and tired to do much about it. I've had to turn down four other Purim party invitations because of work, in fact, but next year I'll know better and will clear my dance card in plenty of time. And I'll put some real effort into getting a great costume together!

Shavua tov, everyone!
 

Vanz More, Mit Feelingeh

Shalom, chaverim! While the northeastern states in America get their collective tucchuses clobbered by the Mother of All Blizzards, we've been ambling along in mostly sunny Nahariya with only a few days of rain. I never thought I'd be using the words "balmy" and "February" in the same sentence, but here it is: truth is stranger than fiction.

We had some good news earlier in the week: Elul got a new job! He starts bright and early next Sunday, and this time it's working for a successful and established online business that sells information and support services to the public. In other words, it's not a startup, which is a good thing. The job will make good use of his many talents in marketing, journalism and business management, and will be a great source of free Hebrew "immersion classes" (read: sink or swim in the office). For the lead on the job, we are once again extremely grateful to the amazing and wonderful Tamara Klinger-Levy, the employment coordinator for the Go North program of Nefesh B'Nefesh. Tamara truly works tirelessly to help olim find jobs and navigate their way through the Israeli work climate, and has helped us and a number of our friends find work here, which is vital for making your Aliyah a successful one.

In other news, I've been doing my first paid gigs singing at a retirement home just around the corner from us. While I had the idea to do these types of shows the minute I arrived, it took quite awhile to get my repertoire together, buy a good Shure SM58 microphone, and for our wedding anniversary to come around so Elul could give me the gift of a badly-needed sound system. Fortunately, it all came together and I made my debut a couple of weeks ago at the "Yarden" rest home in Nahariya. I was commissioned to do three one-hour performances, which luckily are scheduled in the tiny block of time I have on Sundays between teaching and choir practice. I've done two already and have one left.

The audience is extremely supportive and forgiving of my bad Hebrew that I use to fill between songs, but they are getting more than a little tired of me mainly doing songs in English and keep clamoring for more Israeli and Yiddish songs. Thanks to the internet and YouTube, this week Elul and I have managed to scrounge up backing tracks for the most popular tunes like "My Yiddishe Mameh," "Tumbalalaika," and "Bay Mir Bistu Sheyn." I will be working on extending my repertoire as time goes on, but I realize that as a musician, I sorely lack the canon of knowledge that comprises Israeli, but not necessarily Jewish/liturgical, popular music. I clearly need an "informant" who can help me put together a show-stopping set list that will ensure lots of repeat business.

Speaking of show-stoppers, as we were scouring the web for Yiddish music, Elul came across this gem of a Purim takeoff of "Moves Like Jagger," called "Move Like Graggers." (A "gragger" is a noisemaker used at Purim.) Not only is it an amazingly clever and funny piece of work, but I was proud to see it was created by the rabbis and cantorial soloists of Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, where I first got involved in performing Jewish sacred music in the (gulp) late 1980's. Rock on, Temple Israel!

Shavua tov, everyone!

Trouble with the Neighbors

Shavua tov, chaverim! Well, our little corner of the world seems to be hotting up once again, this time with Israel carrying out two separate air strikes in Syria this past week. Some of the facts are disputed, of course, and the Israeli government is basically giving the world a big, fat, "no comment" about it all, but still, it's a bit worrying. In Nahariya, we heard loud military aircraft buzzing around the border at all hours of the night for nearly a week, although it seems to have calmed down now.

On a humanitarian level, what's been happening in Syria is absolutely dreadful. The weather here has been cold and rainy for a few weeks now, and it is certain that tens of thousands of refugees, who are mainly urbanites, have been living in tents in various refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon and Turkey. Some have been moved into temporary, substandard housing, and others have been dispersed throughout different communities to live in crowded and noisy conditions. Elul and I lay warm in our beds, with hot running water, plenty of food, jobs to go to and courses to attend, while hundreds of thousands of our neighbors languish in camps, grieve for their dead, and watch their dreams for their children's education, not to mention their future, literally disappear in a puff of smoke.

No matter which way you look at it, the staggering death toll within Syria itself, the continual destruction of housing, industry and infrastructure, and the enormous disintegration of mass centers of the Syrian population, all lead to a chaotic and quite bleak picture for every citizen there. It is frustrating for me to watch the daily news, where every day I see yet another bunch of politicians, diplomats, envoys and representatives all roll up in yet another bunch of shiny black cars, to sit around another big, shiny conference table, in yet another luxurious hotel, only to hear, yet again, that nothing worth a fig has been accomplished. No peace, no working ceasefires, no resolution. No end to the bombings, the imprisonments, or the slaughters.

Since Israel and Syria have not exactly been kissing cousins for quite some time, I honestly don't know if the Israeli Magen David Adom (like the Red Cross, without the cross) is directly involved in humanitarian relief efforts for Syrian refugees. I'm fairly certain that none of the refugees are staying within Israel, however. Still, wherever you are, if you have a few bucks lying around, or even if you want to skip an appetizer and a dessert when you go out for dinner next time to save the money, please consider donating to a reputable charitable organization that can provide humanitarian relief for them. There is no one in their right mind who would actually want to make being a refugee a "lifestyle choice," so let's do what we can, even if it is simply praying for peace worldwide and helping good causes however we can. Israel cannot afford to be living cheek-to-jowl with a country that has squandered its most precious asset: their own people.

Shalom from Israel, everyone.

Israeli Elections: Our People Have Spoken

Shalom, chaverim! Things are rocking and rolling here in lovely little Nahariya, with last week's excitement being all about the national elections. It was with a quiet feeling of pride and communal participation that Elul and I went to our local polling station and cast our votes for the first time.

Voting in Israel is actually a fairly straightforward procedure. First, you get a card in the mail with your personal details and the address of your polling station. Then, on election day, you show up. (This is easy to do, since Election Day is a national holiday and nearly everyone has the day off.) You show the polling place worker your card and your national identity card (aka a "teudat zehut"), and when it's your turn, you are given an envelope and you go to your "voting booth." In Israel, your booth is basically a cardboard screen on a table.

A soldier casts his vote in his "voting booth."

 

Inside the "booth" is a cardboard tray filled with little pieces of paper. Each party has been given its own set of initials which identify it. All you do is grab the slip of paper that has the initials of the party you want to vote for, then put it in the envelope and seal it. Then you come out, put the envelope into a locked ballot box, and leave.

Sample of party identification slip and ballot envelope.

With this system, there is absolutely no chance of the "hanging chad" fiasco of American elections gone by. There is an elegant, low-tech simplicity to this process of voting. Aside from lots of trees being murdered for the sake of democracy, it seems like a method that is low-cost, easily understood, and very easy to administer.

The next day, there was great excitement all over the nation about the election results. The party of current Prime Ministery Benjamin Netanyahu, Likud, did not do as well as expected. Instead, a new party called "Yesh Atid" ("There is a Future") did quite well. This center-left party is run by a respected television news journalist and national columnist called Yair Lapid, and because of this strong showing got lots of seats in parliament. Now it's Netanyahu's job to form a coalition with different parties, including Yesh Atid, which should result in the country's moving away from the disproportionate dominance of the extremely religious parties. If you're interested in a reasonably concise explanation of Israel's current political parties, you can visit this article here. Note that this article was written before the elections, so some of the predictions were quite off. And, as the author notes, Israeli political parties seem to change as quickly as the weather.

The results of this electoral shift may have a real impact on the lives of millions here, and Israel's national economy. Since in the past, extremely religious Israelis called "haredim" have been exempted from military service and have received disproportionately large amounts of government assistance, the Yesh Atid party calls for an end to this preferential treatment. This is not the only problem facing Israel's economy, of course. But in short, the country cannot continue on its path of squeezing the working, tax-paying middle class into oblivion. Now that we have real "skin in the game" when it comes to matters of taxation and trying to make it economically in Israel, the political landscape has become less background noise.

In a small country like Israel, politics and democracy have real relevance to one's life. Remember, the entire country could fit into the state of Vermont, so we have to be very careful about how we conduct ourselves collectively. One of the reasons Elul and I wanted to make Aliyah was so we could have a real say in what goes on in Israel, and we wanted to earn the right to have that say. Our voices may be small and insignificant, but they are still being heard. Yet again, we're very glad we made Aliyah.

Shabbat shalom and shavua tov, everyone!

Swings and Roundabouts

Shalom, chaverim! It's lovely to be back, hacking away at the old blogface, so to speak, after a week "off." It wasn't really a week off, but just a matter of poor time management on my part. Last weekend Elul and I went off to our second annual Go North Shabbaton on Friday afternoon, and instead of rising early, I slept in and spent the morning packing and preparing, rather than posting here.

A Shabbaton, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a kind of Jewish weekend retreat that is filled with study, prayer and fellowship. It was beautifully organized by the great people of Nefesh B'Nefesh's Go North Program, of which we are a part. This year, it was held in a fascinating Druze village called Peki'in, which is about 15 miles east-ish of Nahariya. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at the beautiful youth hostel where it was held, I only got a few shots of the village from our window before sundown. Since it was a religious retreat, it wasn't appropriate to take photographs on Saturday until Shabbat was over--at sundown!

From our room, with a view of picturesque Peki'in.

The weather was extremely windy and quite cold, and, being somewhat exhausted after a trying week, I elected not to go on the walking tour of the village that nearly all the other attendees went on and, of course, raved about. "My wife, the world champion party pooper," Elul referred to me when others wailed in dismay at my admission that I hadn't gone on the tour. Cravenly, I muttered something about planning to return in the summer when conditions were better.

This is one way to keep your roof from blowing off on a windy day.

Still, the food was absolutely delicious and in great supply, the accommodations were very comfortable, warm and spacious, and the presentations were varied and informative. A lovely time was had a great time resting and visiting with our dear friends, as well as catching up with other people we know but rarely see these days. We will definitely go next year.

The previous week had been quite difficult, as I mentioned previously. Elul finally got completely laid off from his job, as his employer downsized the company dramatically. Within one day, however, I got a call for an interview to teach in a Druze school in Yarka (or Yirka, or Yrka, or however you want to spell it). To make a long story short, I showed up for the interview and got hired on the spot. What makes it even nicer is that a good friend of mine also got a job there, so I have someone to collaborate with. This brings my teaching hours up to a total of 14 hours a week, which is considered just over part-time.

A Druze flag waves proudly in Peki'in

It's a busy life, as I'm still doing my part-time jobs for two other companies, attend Shaanan College one day a week, tutor two private students, and perform in various singing engagements, but it's exciting and a challenge. And fortunately, just yesterday Elul was interviewed for another part-time job, which we hope he'll get and can pick up the slack from losing his primary source of income. The employment instability we've faced since we've arrived has taken some getting used to, but I know we are not at all alone in this experience, as many other olim seem to be going through the same types of things. Fingers crossed we'll get it to settle down sooner or later.

As a very wise woman in my choir recently said to me, "You've got to get up pretty early in the morning if you're ever going to make anything happen for yourself in Israel." She was so right!

Shabbat shalom, everyone!

Happy Snooze Year!

Shalom, chaverim! There's not much to report here in sunny, sleepy Nahariya right now, despite earlier this week being the start of 2013. Like Yom Kippur, we noticed the Gregorian New Year in Israel more by its absence of activity, rather than the presence of any celebrations. Specifically, I noticed a large number of Russian students absent from my teacher training course on Tuesday, which was New Year's Day. One teacher from the Ukraine sighed soulfully, and explained the half-empty classroom to me. "You see, it is very hard for Russians to give up having a great big party that lasts long into the night on New Year's Eve. They will be back next week," she said confidently.

Now that we've been here a year, a few subtle changes are taking place internally, as well as externally. As far as external matters go, we are now eligible to apply for, and receive, full Israeli passports. Also, most of our government tax breaks on our paychecks have been eliminated, so we are now doing a much better job of paying our way in the State of Israel, which is the most positive way of talking about taxes that I can muster. However, the fiscal bite is somewhat mitigated because since we've been resident in Nahariya for a full year, we were able to obtain residency certificates that make us eligible for other tax breaks. Nahariya is one of many communities in the North that are seen to be "at-risk" areas, due to its proximity to Lebanon, so in order to encourage people to continue to move here and keep the area populated, the government sweetens the pot a little. A local joke says that when things get a little too quiet around here, our mayor makes a discreet call over the border to ask Nasrallah for a few harmless missiles be lobbed our way, just to keep the government money coming.

The homework I'm doing for both the teacher training course, and another online course I'm doing about how to teach writing to EFL students, is beginning to pile up. The good news is, it's piling up mainly because I just got approved to teach another three hours a week at the lovely girls' school where I work. These extra hours will be devoted to working with seventh and eighth grade girls who are quite advanced in their English. My plan is to work with them to write, produce, and act and sing in their own musical, using adapted Broadway show tunes. I was pointedly advised that my school does not emphasize music, so I shouldn't have great expectations about the girls' singing abilities, but I am undeterred. If we need more spoken dialogue than songs, then so be it. Now I need to go through my own music library and see what songs might work. Or not!

Shabbat shalom, everyone!