Chag Sameach

In the midst of a month of celebration! An exclamation, I believe, is appropriate to describe this month. Weeks of vacation are punctuated with random reality checks, thrown in to remind you that you don't, in fact, live in synagogue...or in a sukkah...or on the beach...or in a coffee shop.

I began this year well: with family. Elyssa and I went to Tel Mond to stay with friends of the family (due to my lack of blood relations in Israel, we have agreed to adopt each other as "real" family). It was a strange but wonderful mix of religious and secular.
I went to services in the morning. Though nice, it was hard to concentrate when I was freezing, being constantly nudged by dynamic plastic chairs (there were quite a few children), and searching frantically through a machzor that seemed to include every commentary and every text ever written on every part of the Rosh Hashana service. The shofar blowing was enjoyable. For lunch on the first day, all of Yakis' family came over. It was pot-luck-esque, and extremely delicious. I'm happy to say that I contributed with a sof-haderech lental soup, and an apple challah that was equally yummy. Being surrounded by a very large Israeli family, I felt slightly foreign, but also very much part of the mishpacha. Children ran around, the two pregnant women talked about what was essentially pregnant mommy yoga (I could have the details wrong on this...I was eavesdropping...), mothers encouraged children to eat, and there was wine applenty.
The second day, I went to services again. When I returned, we rushed off to Bnaya's base to have a cook out with his army buddies and their families. It was delicious, interesting, fun, and definitely good practice for my Hebrew. While we were eating (in a little park near the base) a Breslover walked by and gave us his new years blessing. Everyone gave a rousing "Amen" in the end, which was very funny. He walked by again later and used our already ignited flame to light his cigarette. After a fabulous picnic, we headed back to Tel Mond to nap and pack.
Jump forward 10 days.
Yom Kippur was a phenomenon. We had three guests at the apartment. We needed to feed ourselves before the fast started, but afternoon was descending, and the city was unusually quiet. At 1:30, I ran to Emek Refaim to find some food. Everything was closed. Everything. Oh crap. Everything....Everything but Pizza Sebaba!!! I grabbed the last pizza they made before they closed and power walked home. After eating a delicious last meal, we donned our white clothing and headed to shul.
Elyssa and I went to Kol Nidre at Kol Haneshama. Services were beautiful. It was really a nice thing to have the ENTIRE congregation participating in a service. Try to find THAT at an American Kol Nidre. After running into many people we knew (including a sibling of a friend, my ulpan teacher etc.) Elyssa and I headed back toward the apartment.
I must explain a little about Yom Kippur here. For this one day, Jerusalem completely shuts down. No one drives. No one shops. Nothing is open (except synagogues). We joined the masses as we walked down Emek Refaim. Hundreds of people wearing all white, walking home from services, just walking, riding bikes, meeting friends, talking, sitting. Kids (and adults) rode bikes in the streets, people WALKED in the streets. It was amazing. The only car that drove by was a patrolling police car. We again saw many of our friends. After walking up and down for about an hour, we became conscious of the fact that we were not eating for 26 hours, and headed home. Services the next morning began at 8. After a day full of repenting and singing, we broke our fast with some wonderful friends. We are very grateful to the Ben Ors for their hospitality and family-ness they have provided us.
From one holiday to the next. We built a sukkah! Unfortunately not our own, but it was the next best thing! Elyssa, Benj, Emma, and I ventured to create a hut out of trash and tree branches. Sukkot is awesome. We gathered tzchach: Three of us ventured down the street a little and discovered a humongous pile of branches. People trim their bushes around this time and put everything in the streets for people like us who are looking to create a roof. As we were gathering huge branches, TWO people offered us more branches and clippers if we came by their houses. Only in Jerusalem. It was a day of learning:
1. You can make anything out of anything. Discarded two-by-fours make awesome sukkah supports
2. lashing is super strong and awesome
3. broken ladders may be dangerous
4. peppercorn branches make beautiful natural decorations
5. sap is sticky
6. wear pants
7. It's a very small world (we called a friend of ours to make plans and discovered that she was in the same building)
8. Frying shnitzl is best when oil is hot
9. Sukkahs are beautiful
10. Jews are strange

A full day of Sukkah building ended in the ushering in of the shabbat queen. We went to KabShab at Yakar, a Carlebach shul. Services were rousing and fun despite the fact that there were about twice as many people in that room as there should have been. As is the custom at synagogues like this, the Shaliach Tzibur reminds you not to worry if you don't have a place for dinner. One will be found for you. Great. That was the hope. When services ended, we approached him and told him we would love to join a nice family for dinner. He shouted over the bustling crowd: "I need two more places for the shabbat meal!!" And then in Hebrew. We felt a bit self conscious. Eventually, a very small and very sweet young woman came up to us and invited us to dinner. Of course, she spoke extremely limited English. We walked back to her home and were greeted by a huge family. Complete with a grandmother, a mother, and six kids (the seventh was in India) between the ages of 15 and 25ish. I was fully prepared to do the entire meal in Hebrew. Then they switched to French.
"Parlez vous francais???" I almost shouted. I then tried very hard to switch to French and speak to them in the language that had previously come easier to me than Hebrew. I failed. It came out in Hebrew. I guess it's a sign. After that, we carried on conversation in a bizarre mix of Hebrew, French, and English. They were very nice people and I'm looking forward to running into them again.
I slept today.
After saying goodbye to the Shabbat Kalla, Elyssa and I made dinner and went to see Waltz with Bashir. What a phenomenal movie. It was moving and sad and poignant. It really evoked a lot of anger and fear for me. It was about a man whose experiences in the first Lebanon War begin to come back to him when a friend tells him about his own. Through flashbacks, the movie details the emotional (and physical) trauma inflicted on several soldiers (animated) during the massacre at Sabra and Shatila. The movie ends incredibly powerfully. I left the movie with great respect for the position soldiers are in everyday. Elyssa and I had the same feeling at the end of the movie. In addition to the horror of the massacres, we were disturbed by the casual regard many American kids have for the army and the position soliders are in. A friend of ours had the opportunity to participate in an army simulation "for the experience of it." What does this really mean? How can we, as outsiders, begin to understand this culture? the obligation? the responsibility? The movie was incredible.

Tomorrow is the last day of ulpan.
Laila tov.