Last night I had another anxiety-laden dream.
I had just arrived to Chicago's O'Hare airport to start my journey to Israel...when I realized that I forgot my bags!
Note to self: remember your bags!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A New Chapter
In two weeks from today I will board a Nefesh B'Nefesh-chartered El Al 747-400 aircraft at New York's JFK International Airport bound for Israel.
In two weeks from tomorrow, when the plane lands, I will be in Israel for the first time...as an Israeli.
This life experience and monumental change is quite surreal - I am experiencing both tremendous excitement as well as waves of anxiety and uncertainty.
My thoughts are many: will I be seen as an Israeli? Will I be welcomed into the society? Will I see myself as an Israeli? How long will it take to become fully immersed in the culture and living in the Middle East?
These existential questions transfer to some on a more basic level - should I bring my bike? What kind of phone should I use there? How will I transfer money from my US banks to Israel?
Just last night I had an awkwardly frightening dream. When the flights lands in Israel, I dreamed that I proceed to an area to receive a free voucher for a taxi ride to a destination of my choosing, a nice benefit offered to new immigrants (olim, in Hebrew) from the Government of Israel and Nefesh B'Nefesh. I leave the airport area en route to my friend Rafi's apartment in Jerusalem, only to realize that I forgot about the ceremonial welcome celebration for all the immigrants upon landing in Israel after it's too late!
I'm pretty sure that I won't miss the music and dancing off the plane, but it is evermore apparent that with the jubilation of this new chapter in my life, there are also jitters that are quite evident along the way.
Overall, I can easily conclude that this step in my life is one that encompasses significant meaning and realizes a dream and idealism I have not yet recognized.
In two weeks from tomorrow, when the plane lands, I will be in Israel for the first time...as an Israeli.
This life experience and monumental change is quite surreal - I am experiencing both tremendous excitement as well as waves of anxiety and uncertainty.
My thoughts are many: will I be seen as an Israeli? Will I be welcomed into the society? Will I see myself as an Israeli? How long will it take to become fully immersed in the culture and living in the Middle East?
These existential questions transfer to some on a more basic level - should I bring my bike? What kind of phone should I use there? How will I transfer money from my US banks to Israel?
Just last night I had an awkwardly frightening dream. When the flights lands in Israel, I dreamed that I proceed to an area to receive a free voucher for a taxi ride to a destination of my choosing, a nice benefit offered to new immigrants (olim, in Hebrew) from the Government of Israel and Nefesh B'Nefesh. I leave the airport area en route to my friend Rafi's apartment in Jerusalem, only to realize that I forgot about the ceremonial welcome celebration for all the immigrants upon landing in Israel after it's too late!
I'm pretty sure that I won't miss the music and dancing off the plane, but it is evermore apparent that with the jubilation of this new chapter in my life, there are also jitters that are quite evident along the way.
Overall, I can easily conclude that this step in my life is one that encompasses significant meaning and realizes a dream and idealism I have not yet recognized.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
A Different Sort of Interview
Today, after months of thought and hours of paperwork (all online thankfully - so paperlesswork, perhaps?) I had my official 'aliya interview' at the Jewish Agency's headquarters in Jerusalem. My meeting with Daniel Rosenfeld, a nice, laid-back aliya interviewer, turned out to be humor-filled and pretty low-key.
I was nervous to hear back from Daniel - my anticipated aliya date, flight and ulpan (an intensive Hebrew immersion program) was all in flux until I was officially approved.
I received a phone call later this afternoon with the good news of my approval to move to Israel - quite an inspirational conversation - and started queuing everything else in place.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Soo that India trip..
Yes, it was fascinating, but it was also consuming in many ways: long days, dramatic experiences of both mind and stomach and a heightened level of fascination that permitted, evidently, just two or so stretched nights chronicling the adventures.
So the rest of the three weeks was pretty awesome.
(written some time later)
So the rest of the three weeks was pretty awesome.
(written some time later)
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Day Two: Mumbai and I
The morning started with a quick walk across the street to see Mumbai's Indian Gate. The actual walking was fine, but there were huuuuge balloons that were attached to these guys who kept wanting to sell their balloons to us. Apparently they lost the need for the particularly large and unuseful balloons. No upcoming birthdays. Sorry buddy. The arch was basically a bigger version of the Arc de Triumph with quite a bit of scaffolding. Our next stop was the courtyard of Bombay University and some adjacent courthouse. The funny thing about the courthouse was that it had so many legal files that were piled outside, in the courtroom and wherever else there was space. Literally just piles - no shelves, no order, just stacks of papers.
Must be terribly difficult to find Docket 24.A.19 People v. American Guy Who Took Pictures in Courthouse.The morning rush at Victoria Train Station was just that. Throngs of people arriving and departing, crowding the cars until they became over-packed. Just fascinating to watch. Yes, I've been to many train stations before, but this was unlike a European depot or Chicago's Metra. The design of the outside of the station was even more impressive. Think castle, grand palace.
We rushed ourselves to see the dabba walla in full swing. These guys are the Bruce Lees of food delivery. Minus the kung fu but with the same expedited seriousness. And hopefully with a tinge less vengeance. Sound simple? Not quite. After studying it as a somewhat official observer for a few minutes, I still didn't get how it works so efficiently. Here's the scenario:
-Mom/wife packs you a yummy lunch of your favorite curries and maybe even a note with Ganesha on it for good luck. The same guy you've seen day after day, year after year, comes and picks up the lunch in the morning, wearing his sailor-like hat, makes his rounds and congregates with all the other tiffenmen on the main thoroughfare across the street from one of the other main train terminals.
- Some local runners put the different to-go lunches on every inch of a bicycle, but more common are the long trays of about 4' x 6' that is carried on their heads, put into the luggage car of a train and then, upon the train reaching its destination, relayed to the team responsible for actually hand delivering the food.
The process is crazy, but they swear by it. I thought it would just be easier to carry your own lunch to work, but was told that it was too tightly packed on the trains to facilitate everyone bring aboard a sack lunch. Seems like a lot of work for lunch, but it's practical for them.
Crawford Market was our next stop. This bizaar mainly offered a wide array of food products. Eggs, watermelons, mangoes, apples, strawberries - the list goes on. Walking further brings out the more peculiar offerings: poultry, fowl, ducks, mangy cats and mice. No, not as a result of the filth, the cats and mice were in cages to be sold. Under the main covering was much of the same as well as the spice markets. I bought chicken tikka spices and a wetish but really good smelling spices. I'm excited to use them - or at least smell them.
We visited two more places before the end of the day. Another common service, similar in style to the dabba walla is the dhobi. These guys are the pro-bowlers of the laundry service league. Spread across a few acres, this service provides regular cleaning for much of Mumbai. But not in the typical fashion, of course. Large sacks of clothes/garments/etc. are carried to the outdoor 'operations facility.' The clothes are then beaten repeatedly against a tub-like stone basin containing water and a mild, natural detergent.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Hmm...
Some peculiarities / differences between cultures:
- No sunglasses worn
- Yes PNP and BPNP (Public Nose Picking - also done Blatantly)
- No trash cans - compared to Chicago, even India lacks garbage receptacles
- Janwaro Kesat nachna - translates in Indian to Dances with animals (our guide wasn't savvy on translating wolves, but you get the idea)
- Sleeping policemen = speed bumps
- Street cleaners = pigs/cows eating trash off of the ground
- Yahoo ads are crazy - "Priya is looking for a soulmate...Are you the one?"
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Feeding Religion
When talking with friends to determine where to go to eat, how often is Indian an option? I love going for Indian food, but usually sparingly - once a month or so. Mexican I could have every day for every meal, but Indian is more of a treat for me. Not to mention how full (read: bloated and disgusting) I feel after each Indian meal. Imagine that bloated feeling times three - every day! To take advantage of the authenticity of the surroundings though, I have only been interested in eating the best Indian food here. Locally known simply as 'food.'
My favorite new dish is the samosa chaat that we had at Samrat. It consisted of smashed samosas in light yoghurt and tamarind chutney sauces, garnished every so elegantly with Jay's potato chips. Excellent! I've also really enjoyed my new choice drink: fresh-squeezed lime juice. The limes are so different from what I'm used to - not at all and very mild and light tasting. If that makes any sense. On the bottom of the drink list is a bottled lemonade served aboard an intra-India flight. It might have been good except for all of the salt that was added to it. Other good stuff includes a thali, an assortment of many different dishes, sauces, rices and breads. The dangerous part: it's unlimited so you keep getting refills on everything. The two best places for thali so far are Samrat in Mumbai and Natraj in Udaipur, which served and refilled dishes at speeds unfathomably fast.
What is ultimately surprising to me is that even after a number of days in India my digestive system has not objected at all, probably thanks to considerable efforts against supporting the Lactose Regime and abstaining from all dairy entirely. I asked Yael, our Mumbai guide, what religion I would be if I lived here, considering my dairy prohibition. There seems to be an unending number of sects, each with their own beliefs, practices and dietary restrictions. Most familiar and intriguing to me are the people known as Bene Yisrael, or Yehudis. Shipwrecked off the Mumbai coast over two thousand years ago while refugees from a foreign occupied very pre-Israel strip of land. They were also called Shanivar Teli, meaning Saturday oil-pressers since they abstained from working on Saturdays and since oil pressing was their game. They are the dis-connected, now reconnected Jews before Jewish meant anything. But they eat dairy, so I guess that makes me a bit more religious...maybe.
The major religious muscle includes Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus, the vast majority, many of whom are vegetarian but simply called 'veg.' A new (for me) interesting religion is Jainism, an offshoot of Hinduism. There are special items on many restaurant menus catering to Jain standards. I thought at first that notations saying that certain dishes can be made without garlic or onions were for tourists. Not so - Jains revere the earth and dirt and believe that all therein is holy and therefore refrain from eating that stuff. Actually all root vegetables. Some kid's clever attempt to avoid eating vegetables if you ask me.
Somewhat opposite from the Jains are the Farsis, who worship the sky and air, ground too I think. They have mysterious traditions, as their temples and practices are open only to their faithful. Little known fact: the creator of 'Members Only' jackets was a Farsi. Yet is is more commonly known that they have a certain area of Mumbai that is cordoned off in which is kept their Temple of Silence. I don't know how tall the tower reaches, but I did learn that it was definitely silent: they hang their dead so the body can be with the holiness of the air. I guess that was thought to be paramount to the destruction of the body over the course of a few hours by hungry vultures, buzzards and vicious parrots. Ok maybe not the parrots but that really sounds quite unappealing and morbid when thinking of how to execute one's last will and testament. I'd think the family's grief might be a bit expounded by seeing a bird eat mommy...
My favorite new dish is the samosa chaat that we had at Samrat. It consisted of smashed samosas in light yoghurt and tamarind chutney sauces, garnished every so elegantly with Jay's potato chips. Excellent! I've also really enjoyed my new choice drink: fresh-squeezed lime juice. The limes are so different from what I'm used to - not at all and very mild and light tasting. If that makes any sense. On the bottom of the drink list is a bottled lemonade served aboard an intra-India flight. It might have been good except for all of the salt that was added to it. Other good stuff includes a thali, an assortment of many different dishes, sauces, rices and breads. The dangerous part: it's unlimited so you keep getting refills on everything. The two best places for thali so far are Samrat in Mumbai and Natraj in Udaipur, which served and refilled dishes at speeds unfathomably fast.
What is ultimately surprising to me is that even after a number of days in India my digestive system has not objected at all, probably thanks to considerable efforts against supporting the Lactose Regime and abstaining from all dairy entirely. I asked Yael, our Mumbai guide, what religion I would be if I lived here, considering my dairy prohibition. There seems to be an unending number of sects, each with their own beliefs, practices and dietary restrictions. Most familiar and intriguing to me are the people known as Bene Yisrael, or Yehudis. Shipwrecked off the Mumbai coast over two thousand years ago while refugees from a foreign occupied very pre-Israel strip of land. They were also called Shanivar Teli, meaning Saturday oil-pressers since they abstained from working on Saturdays and since oil pressing was their game. They are the dis-connected, now reconnected Jews before Jewish meant anything. But they eat dairy, so I guess that makes me a bit more religious...maybe.
The major religious muscle includes Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus, the vast majority, many of whom are vegetarian but simply called 'veg.' A new (for me) interesting religion is Jainism, an offshoot of Hinduism. There are special items on many restaurant menus catering to Jain standards. I thought at first that notations saying that certain dishes can be made without garlic or onions were for tourists. Not so - Jains revere the earth and dirt and believe that all therein is holy and therefore refrain from eating that stuff. Actually all root vegetables. Some kid's clever attempt to avoid eating vegetables if you ask me.
Somewhat opposite from the Jains are the Farsis, who worship the sky and air, ground too I think. They have mysterious traditions, as their temples and practices are open only to their faithful. Little known fact: the creator of 'Members Only' jackets was a Farsi. Yet is is more commonly known that they have a certain area of Mumbai that is cordoned off in which is kept their Temple of Silence. I don't know how tall the tower reaches, but I did learn that it was definitely silent: they hang their dead so the body can be with the holiness of the air. I guess that was thought to be paramount to the destruction of the body over the course of a few hours by hungry vultures, buzzards and vicious parrots. Ok maybe not the parrots but that really sounds quite unappealing and morbid when thinking of how to execute one's last will and testament. I'd think the family's grief might be a bit expounded by seeing a bird eat mommy...
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