Guest Lecturer

Before coming to Israel and beginning Ulpan, I would have balked at listening to a lecture in Hebrew, but now it has become the highlight of my week. I am not sure if that denotes a lessening of expectations or a rise in my own confidence. Either way, it was terriffic.

Today my level got to hear a lecture and participate in a question-and-answer session with Eli Amir, the author of "Tarnegol Kaparot", a text read by almost every Israeli at some point in their school career. The novel tells the autobiographical story of Eli's move from Iraq to Israel in the 1950s, the years of the first major aliyah. His life is the unfortunately standard tale of a religious family giving up their wealth and position to move to the Promised Land, where they were forced into temporary camps with tents instead of houses, no prospects for jobs, a foreign language, and an almost total lack of religion. The bulk of the novel focuses on how Eli found a future working on a kibbutz despite the many ideological and emotional obstacles that posed.

One of the most interesting aspects of the speech was the lack of animosity felt by the author. From the way that era has been portrayed in film and text, one would imagine him to be full of loathing for the establishment that offered him false hope and a total remodelling of his existence, but during the Q & A he actually professed admiration for what the kibbutznicks achieved, and he finds promise in the idea of a melting pot, pointing out that if it hadn't been for the massive numbers of immigrants that overwhelmed the system (the population of the country more than doubled in two years) the transition from Iraqi to Israeli could have been very smooth. He sees a similar scenario in the segregation of Ethiopian-Israelis into largely Ethiopian schools today, which is causing the exact rifts that were avoided sixty years ago.

Another point he raised is that the problem with today's kids (my phrasing, not his) is that they lack the capacity to dream. He noted that for Western youth, the world, information, and wealth are more accessible than ever before, but we have no idea what to do with it all. We want to be rich. Or we want to travel. Or we want to be smart. But what will it lead to? Where is the ideology? Is there anyone today who could potentially see through the large scale implementation of a dream such as Zionism or Communism? Perhaps such people exist, but do we hold these individuals in high esteem?

While my Hebrew may not have advanced today, it was the most challenging and interesting day of Ulpan thus far. Then I was lucky enough to come home to find Rina toiling over work for Candesco. Who would have thought that going to school would be so much better than staying at home, playing on the computer?

Presents

During my teaching practicum in Boston, one of my lessons was about poetry. The objective that day was to teach the class about poems which had no specific meaning, and whose purpose was simply to play with language. The way I approached the lesson was to distribute several Wallace Stevens pieces to the class, and to have them attempt an analysis of the works using the tools we'd been utilizing on other poems. My plan was that, after twenty minutes of their toiling on the meaningless poems, I would surprise them with the truth about the works, and we would proceed with a discussion about why on Earth someone would write a poem without a meaning. Luckily for both myself and my students, my advisor stepped in and told me that it was an awful idea and was sure to breed resentment and hostility. So I changed the plan.

The last time that Sofi (one of my Ulpan teachers) gave us little bags, they had inside several types of candy and a clever poem about Shabbat. Today when she took out of her bag an assortment of brightly coloured plastic packets that had the words "Happy Birthday!" on the side we all had our hopes raised. These hopes were further stoked when we looked inside the bags and saw taffy and chocolates, and another piece of rolled-up paper. The hopes were cruelly crushed, however, when we unrolled the paper to find that we were being assigned a surprise essay. Hurray. Luckily I was able to push off the completion of the assignment by our (Rina and I) taking a brief trip to Mea She'arim to fulfill assorted Judaica needs. Oh, and on the way home we met our cousin Dov Kempinski, just back from his vacation in Toronto.

In other, more exciting news, the present which we bought for my sister before her year Israel, which has since been re-gifted to two other girls spending a year here, has finally been used. Tonight we unpacked our sandwich maker and made the only sensible thing, little mushroom quiches.

It's only Friday, but already a great weekend

Thursday night, after experimenting with our gas oven for only the second time (it was a success, by the way) we decided to take a walk down to Ben Yehuda. En route, we heard a car blasting Israeli pop music. After all the cars had driven away, we realized that that music had not been blasting from the car, but from the free concert in the park nearby, so we strolled over and watched as hundreds of Israeli teens and tweens screamed and jumped to the beat of a handsome, fit, and energetic pop sensation clouded in smoke. It was actually a pretty good show. We then capped off the evening with ice cream.

Today we slept in (hurray for Friday being the weekend!) then hiked to the Old City to see the Kotel, Rina's school, and of course some students. On the way out of the city, we saw a sign promising great hope: The United Buddy Bears were here to bring peace to the Middle East! What could go wrong, with these painted ceramic woodland creatures here to foster love between two factions filled with loathing since the time of the Bible? I know that I will certainly sleep easier after seeing their Care Bear stare in action. For some reason, however, even though the plaque told us that all 138 nations recognized by the U.N. were represented, Canada was absent. Either we haven't cut the cord with the U.K., or the Buddy Bears don't see any value in our esteemed Hockey Stick Defense Corps. After wandering around for a bit, we went to what Rina promised would be outstanding shwarma, and she delivered. Melech HaFalafel was cheaper than whatever swarthy stand I visited last time, and had a salad bar. I'm not sure what their actual policy is, but I hit up the salad bar for three refills. Awesome. We have a new front runner in the Great Shwarma Race.

After lunch, we went to the shuk to buy our cheap-as-free groceries, including dessert for Shabbat. We then headed home to begin cooking and cleaning before the ridiculously early sabbath is upon us. On the way, someone asked us for directions to the nearest pharmacy, and I got to give my first ever "yashar yashar". Hurray!

And then there were two

At Ulpan today we started the day with an hour-long lecture on the history of the Hebrew alphabet. This would have been great, except we finished off the intellectual morning with a rousing sing-a-long of "Aleph ohel, Bet ze bayit". Oh well. At least during the breaks I got to get back to normalcy by helping Sergei with his English homework, answering questions about the Titanic.

Tonight for dinner we met up with some other Pardes* students at the home of what is apparently a Pardes family (all of the children and one of the guests wore identical maroon t-shirts that sported the school's logo). The family lives in a high rise near the school, and they had an atypical apartment, in that their furniture seemed to have been found somewhere other than the curb, and their view was of all of Jerusalem, not the neighbour or synagogue next door. The dinner was great and company very enjoyable, but the Pardes-stereotypes fit the attendees like a well-fitted school-sponsored maroon t-shirt: all of the guests but we were varying degrees of vegetarian and were staunch supporters of liberal branches of Judaism.** Thankfully, nobody had any interest in starting a drum circle.

Of course, as we were clearing the table, one of the guests stopped me and queried, "this might sound weird, but where did you go to college?"
"Binghamton... Why?"
"Me too! I knew I recognized you!"
Of course.

*Pardes is the school that Rina plans to attend this year.
**Not that there is anything wrong with either of those qualities.

Finally!

Now I understand the smell - laziness

Now don't get me wrong, I do understand the drawbacks to clothes dryers - the air pollution, the wastewater, the consumption of electricity and the evils associated with it, the arguing with your landlord's crazy mother-in-law who doesn't speak any English except a few roughly translated curses - but is it really worth it? Is saving the world worth inconveniencing myself? I mean, we've had clothes dryers since the early 1800s, and electric dryers since 1915! Am I to believe that after two centuries of clothes-drying technology I have to revert to relying on the sun, that unreliable old fogey of a star? And what happens if he explodes? My clothes will stay wet and mouldy. I wouldn't be at all surprised if this whole regression is the fault of some clothespin mafia.

However, I have already solved the problem of my inability to open the washing machine and my hatred of dirty outdoor drying racks - I will simply let Rina take care of it. This isn't a sexist plan by any means, she just won't want me to ruin her outfits after seeing the way I mangle mine.

"How Not to Have to Dry the Dishes" - by Shel Silverstein
If you have to dry the dishes,
such an awful, boring chore,
If you have to dry the dishes,
'stead of going to the store,
If you have to dry the dishes
and you drop one on the floor,
maybe they won't let you
dry the dishes anymore.

Let the Games Begin

When we were little, cereals weren't chosen based on sugar and fiber content, but on the toys they held inside. The best toys were the ones that came in sets, so that after digging our grubby hands through five boxes of cereal we would be left with five flimsy and colourful plastic playthings. These boxes were always emblazoned with the command "Collect the whole set!" Today I began to collect the whole set of students. My hands are a little less grubby and the collection is a little less flimsy, but the game is just the same.

To be fair, I work at a Bnei Akiva school, and the kids are encouraged from conception to spend a year/lifetime in Israel. Also, I may have invited them all over for Shabbat. Regardless, when I make the sweaty trek in a t-shirt and shorts to the Old City, my expectation is to see the sights, not to meet a minyan of my boys, and later, on a sidestreet, some Grade 10 girls. Of course, the first words spoken were "I didn't recognize you without a tie!" I suppose I should have worn a tie, being that it is summer vacation, the weekend, 85 degrees, and ISRAEL. Silly me.

T.G.I.T.

This morning on the bus-ride to school I finally got to witness the infamous skill of Israeli drivers. The bus was stopped four cars back at a red light. I was staring pretty mindlessly out the window, and got to witness a semi, also four cars back, start driving forward when the light turned green. Unfortunately, none of the cars in front of the massive truck had moved yet, so he plowed into the little sedan in front of him, crumpling the entire rear end into itself. Equally unfortunately, our bus then started moving, so I didn't get to witness the infamous temper of Israeli citizens. All I could see were wild gesticulations as we pulled away.

Tonight I went to the International Arts and Crafts fair, which was set up in the Sultan's Pools, just outside the walls of the Old City. When I first heard of the fair, my initial thoughts were of people from around the world making popsicle-stick sculptures and macaroni-necklaces; fortunately it wasn't so. There was a massive assembly of artisans from around the world displaying and selling their works from small outdoor booths. There were collections from South America, Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, and the media ranged from glass to wood to metal to paper. While many of the products were a little redundant (lots of pottery) there were also some very unique pieces, like Matrix-worthy sculptures made of cutlery and "paintings" made entirely from different colours of wood woven together. Spread throughout the fairgrounds there were also performances by acrobats, a flamenco guitar trio, drummers, and various types of actors, in addition to artists, like glassblowers and potters, practicing their crafts. It was a very lively and entertaining event.

Perhaps my favourite part of the exhibition was the food gallery. There was a huge variety of foods from which to choose, and I thank G-d that I have no more money to spend or I would have had to roll home. There was sushi, Mexican, Chinese, Bugersbar, a fondue station, a booth where you could drench waffles in a variety of syrups, a crepe station, and even a make-your-own-laffa area, among other, more standard, carnival fares. Perhaps the most odd booth, yet the most fitting, was the halva stand. Sadly, I think I am developing a taste for the noxious and crumbly confection, even though there is probably a clause against that in our ketubah.

The evening closed with a concert by an Israeli band whose name escapes me, but whose music was the complete opposite of what I expected. There was pounding bass, a smoke machine, strobe lights, and a mosh pit - not quite what I'd imagined complimenting an Arts and Crafts fair. Not quite Pete Seeger, but lots of fun.

The Clutches of HaRova

During a break between classes a young-ish student walked past the door to my classroom, then doubled back. She approached me and said, "Jon Parker? Wow. You haven't changed at all."

Great! A compliment on my youthful mien.

She continued, "I'm Abby Laub!"

Woah. Not a compliment on my youthful mien. Abby is the youngest sister of a classmate from Buffalo, younger even than my own sister. The last time I saw her had to be between 10 and 13 years ago, smack in the middle of my owly glasses, braces, poofy hair, and flannel shirts, what Rina politely calls my "awkward phase". At least I don't have to feel bad for not remembering her - our last meeting was over half her life ago.

It was nice to catch up, though. I got a quick recap of her family's doings for the last decade, found out that she attended Midreshet HaRova last year, and made aliyah last week. She's the second person in two weeks to tell me that, and it makes me wonder what exactly is in their famous chocolate chips pancakes.

Confessions of Bageler

People (Rina) often criticize others for "bageling"*, or laugh at those recently "bageled", but in Israel, especially in shul, it is nearly impossible not to. Take, for example, this past Shabbat, when someone from every part of my life somehow made an appearance, sort of like a segment of "This is Your Life".

Following the painful experiences of last Friday night at Yakar, Ilana (my sister, who is staying with me for Shabbat) and I decided to find another shul for services. Since following the white-shirted folk was what led me into trouble a week ago, this week we followed a tall, skinny white-haired man in a suit. We figured that suit=old=fast service, and it worked out wonderfully. It also turned out that the man we trailed was Rabbi Saknowitz, Rina's guidance counsellor and the former Rabbi of the downstairs' minyan at Shaarei Shomayim, a shul in Toronto.

Today we attended Yakar, and after shul Ilana spotted a friend she had made during the summer, and we went over to talk to him. We quickly discovered that he (Jordy) was a CHAT graduate a year younger than Rina, and he had lived in our current apartment while the previous residents were in Thailand. After that weirdness, I noticed another participant in the Melton program, and I went over to say hi. She was with her husband, who she introduced, and the conversation went as follows:
"Where do you teach?"
"Oh, it's a private school in Toronto called Or Chaim; you've probably never heard of it."
"Of course I have! I'm from Rochester!"
"Really? Do you know (insert a list of names from my youth in N.C.S.Y.)?"
"Of course, they are all my brother's friends - wait - are you Jonathan Parker, from Buffalo?"

Ilana and I then went with Shai and Layla Mintz to have lunch with the Back's, where we discussed (briefly) our childhoods in Buffalo.

For being so far away from home, I'm awfully close.

*Bageling is playing Jewish Geography

Walking Tour

Today, my first real day off, I spent walking around Jerusalem. I started by walking to the Old City, where I first visited the Kotel, then moved on to a meandering (some would say lost) tour of the Jewish Quarter. When I went to see my cousin Dov in his store (where he was absent, apparently visiting Toronto) I was surprised to see one of the few Jewish landmarks I recognize, the Hurva Synagogue, being rebuilt. On every previous trip to the Old City I have seen nothing but a lone arch commemorating the synagogue that once stood, but now there is a full structure there. It's interesting to think that a city whose architecture and appearance centers around unearthing the past has now gone so far as to recreate it. One wonders what they'll try to rebuild next... I'm betting on dinosaurs.

After the Old City, I went to the shuk to buy things for Shabbat. Even though I'm sure I didn't get the best deals, It is ridiculous how much cheaper things are a 30 minute walk from home. I spent 30 shekels and came home with food, towels, and cleaning supplies. I don't think I could have gotten any one of those for that price at the shops near our apartment. All you have to do is put up with the smell, the pushiness, the smell, and the abusive parents. And the smell. But its Israel, and everything is pushy and abusive, or smells.

Study break

Tomorrow is our first test, meaning that tonight is the first real study session, leaving me with the opportunity for my first study break. To that end, I met Nikki at Ben Yehuda street for the most delicious study break ever. I'll give you some hints - it is a dead animal, roasting in the open air, my server wiped his nose with his bare hand, there are a dozen sauces of various shades that shouldn't be eaten and can only be pronounced by spitting, and there are plenty of oily eggplants, peppers, and french fries as toppings... Ah, shwarma, was there ever a more appetizing break from verb conjugations?

Shwarma, I think I love you.

And so begins my search for the city's best. Any suggestions?

A little awkward, but it could have been worse

Ulpan is progressing well - my vocabulary is better than some in the class, my conversation is as good as I expected, and my grammar doesn't exist. A solid C average, overall. The fun of Ulpan is in the people, though, and today I got to meet someone new, as we began our electives. I chose Israeli History. At the outset of class, we did the obligatory state-your-name-and-place-of-origin game (not actually a game, though. More of a dull droning sigh.), and I was surprised to hear someone say that they were from Toronto - my first compatriot! After class I went up to him, to ask him more specific questions, but found him to be approaching me first. He stuck out his hand, and with a smile on his face said,
"You don't remember me, do you?"
Now, unfortunately, this question is asked of me almost daily, and the answer is almost always no. Sometimes I can get away with a "you look familiar..." or "yeah, you were at that thing with the stuff, right?" but not this time. How many 18 year-olds not from Or Chaim do I know? Then, noting my blank look, he said, "I'm Disenhouse."
Ah yes, of course. Why shouldn't I be in school with my former camper?

After Ulpan, I had my first Melton meeting, which went well. Even though my grammar is ridiculous, everyone laughed at my joke about the cats that have nightly deathmatches in our backyard. Or they laughed at me. Either way, we all got along fine, and it turns out that of the five of us here for Ulpan, most live in the same neighbourhood, so we can get together, which means I can pretend to have friends, at long last. And, even better, they're all older than me, and none has ever been my student, my camper, that kid I used to babysit, or anything else that makes me feel that all of my 27 years have suddenly become 72.

School on the Weekend

School on Friday was exactly what school is on Fridays everywhere, except that for us it also meant the loss of the weekend. Instead of sitting in class, getting ansty because the weekend was approaching, we sat there getting antsy because our weekend was quickly slipping away. This was offest by the wonderful news that for homework we would get to write the ending to a story about an ant and a grasshopper! Huzzah! The best part of school today was when we were suddenly transported to some sort of cross between CenterCamp (a day camp for kiddies in Buffalo) and Leo Baek (a Reform school (not reform school) in Toronto). During one of our lessons, the entire level (about 70 people) tramped down to the auditorium for - what else - a singalong. We were given neon photocopies of Shabbat classics like "Chiri Biri Bim" and "Adon Olam", and asked to sing along with an overzealous teacher and a clearly bored woman playing the keyboard with her index fingers. Oh, and don't forget that after chorale we found a delicious treat awaiting us in the hallway - mini-challas and dixie cups of grape juice! But don't worry, nobody was bitter about losing their Friday to join the Mickey Mouse Club. Not at all.

For Friday night I tried to follow the two pieces of advice given to me about finding a shul - follow the sea of white shirts, and don't go to Yakar. So I followed the white shirts, and found myself in Yakar. The singing was nice, but only for about 15 minutes. The second, third, fourth, and fifth set of yabbabais and babbaboos seemed a little unnecessary. On the upside, I was pleasantly surprised to see Shai Mintz, a rabbi from my childhood in attendance, and we got to catch up (and get invited to lunch, of course).

In case you are concerned about any seeming bitterness in this post, please be comforted that it is (mostly) for Zvi's benefit, seeing as he went to all that trouble to use a big word like "sardonic".

First Day of School

Wow.

Now I remember why it is so much better to be a teacher than a student.

I came into my first day of school, nervous as a kid on his first day of school, and tentatively made friends with the people around me in Baylor room 306. We are all at around the same level of competence when it comes to Hebrew, so none of us felt shy about speaking with horrible grammar or long pauses when we searched for words, so everyone quickly got comfortable with everyone else. The class is a mix of Hebrew University students, Olim, and tourists, and everyone has their own background in terms of Hebrew that puts them at an advantage in some area and a disadvantage in others. Talia and I haven't spoken the language in several years and have no background in grammar, but have good(ish) vocabularies. Sergei learned his Hebrew in the army, so has a great vocabulary and very little grammar. And Elazar, a Japanese tourist, has just done the first two levels of Ulpan so has exactly the mix expected by the teacher. Yes, there are more than four students in the class, but no, I can't remember their names (some I've even tried to forget, like the girl who rooms with one of my students from Ulpana. When did 27 years old become 45?).

The classes were all fun - as fun as foreign language classes get, I suppose - and we had a mix of activities that I remember from elementary school: songs, poems, stories, question-and-answer periods, and the like. And we got homework, hurray!

After class, dinner, and homework, I met Ilana (my sister) at the Israel Museum for a wine tasting event. As we entered we found it interesting that most of the people in attendance were driving, but the spittoons scattered around the park were pretty empty. I guess that explains the stereotype about Israeli drivers. Anyways, the event was fun, and we tried a whole bunch of brands I'd never heard of (probably because we didn't realize until we were five booths in that only some of the products were kosher. Oops), but by the middle everything started to taste the same. Still delicious, but the same. Once it was over Ilana made plans to go out with friends, and I staggered home to sleep for a few hours before getting up at 6 a.m. for our first and last Friday Ulpan. Blech.

Meeting Mandy

Once in Israel (again, after no movies but the blue screen and blinking plane) I stood in a long line, the only single person trying to get into the country. The only thing that made the time passable was the presence in the line next to me of the entire Australian Water Polo team. Now I can see why Sarit spent so much time down there.

I caught a sheirut into Jerusalem, and aside from being totally incapable of directing the driver to the apartment (as I'd never seen it) everything was fine. Once there I lugged my 120 pounds of stuff up to apartment four, then back down again, as I was in the wrong building. Once I'd found the right place, I piled up the bags in the corner, and hurriedly tried to establish an internet connection so that I could call home like the dutiful boy that I am. After half an hour I realized my incompetence and gave up, and took a 30 minute nap before my meeting with the landlady.

She arrived at 9:30, and taught me how to shower, turn on the stove, and sweep the floor. I don't know if she thinks that I'm seven or that only Rina knows how to do these things, but my time would have been much better spent napping. Maybe she recognized my frustration, becuase she then sped through a list of vital phone numbers, what they are for, and the time frame for calling them in about 30 seconds, and then left to show me how to kick the gas cylinders to see how much remains. After giving me some general directions to local stores and the bus to Hebrew U, she left. Then I did.

After a long and tedious (the uniform limestone bricks might be novel and pretty, but I found myself missing the craptacular facades of Bathurst) bus-ride to school, I disembarked at what was clearly the wrong stop, and spent the next twenty minutes trying to find an entrance to campus. I then spent the next thirty minutes trying to locate my program's office, which was hard as nobody had ever heard of it (which makes sense, there being only fifteen people in it). I found it, and then came the Meeting with Mandy. Many is the administrator with whom I have been corresponding for the last five months in preparation for the program. Our first face-to-face meeting was, however, somewhat underwhelming. We met, made small talk, discussed the program, and set up health insurance. Wheee! I don't know what I was expecting - maybe some balloon animals or a flaming tiger dancing on chopsticks - but it was just a regular meeting. Maybe in Israel you need to supply your own petting zoo at these things.

After our meeting I spent two hours navigating the bureaucracy of Hebrew U to get my student card and register for Ulpan, then rushed off to get my cellphone (my first ever! I'm finally a teenager!) and set up the apartment before I passed out from sleep deprivation. After doing what I could to make the apartment feel more like a home than a dorm or a cell, I made a quick dinner (thank you to the Chais for the delicious sardines, which really made me feel loved and at home) and passed out. I figured it was probably a good idea to get some sleep before school began the next day. If only my mommy were here to lay out my clothes and take my picture.