I gave a dvar torah

This past Shabbat, I had been asked to deliver a Dvar Torah. Risking my modesty, I would go so far as to say it was perhaps some of my better work as far as Dvarim go, and I have given a fair few in my days. So, here, I am going to attempt to recreate it here.

The Torah portion this week was parshat Noach, the story of Noah. The biggest and most discussed part of this parsha is of course the whole deal with the flood-ark thing. Noah built it, gathered the animals, loaded the family, and waited out the raining and the draining. This story we know, we know what different metaphors and life lessons we get from this, the whole thing has been talked about a lot, in general and also during this Shabbat in specific. So I am not going to talk about Noah, or the ark, or the flood.

In the parsha, lots of things happen after Noah and his family and all of the animals came off of the ark. Noah gets drunk, his sons do and don’t show respect for him, things go a bit off, Cham proves a jerk, etc.
Later on, the descendents go down into the valley and decide to build a city. They decide to build a tower in the center of this city (the tower of Babel) that will reach all the way up into the heavens, solidifying the unity of the people and ensuring their future harmony. However, Gd sees this tower and says, “ Look at what this people are already doing?! This cannot be allowed!” and Gd destroyed the tower, and babbled the language of man, creating the different tongues of the world, and preventing easy communication and cooperation.
Well this seems a bit off. Why would Gd want to divide people, to prohibit cooperation and easy cohabitation? It seems that it would be a more peaceful, harmonious place where people aren’t preemptively misunderstanding each other due to language issues. So what happened?

It has been pretty much accepted (by me, at least) that details that are included in the Torah, especially details that seem unnecessary and unimportant are in fact just the opposite. When it talks about the construction of the tower, the Torah tells us that in the valley there were no stones, and so the leaders instructed the people to make bricks with which to build a tower that would reach the heavens. We are not told any dimensions of the tower, we are not told anything about what the tower will look like, we are not told about what the purposes and functions of the tower will be; this is a great contrast to what happened when the instructions for the building of Noah’s Ark, or the Tabernacle, which were described to the minutest detail. In this case rather, we are told solely that at the location where the tower was to be built, there was no stone, and they would instead make and use bricks.
So, what does this mean? Was it the advancement in human technological advancements that offended Gd so? And if so, then from a Jewish perspective are all of our technological advancements today, from laptops to medical advancements to ipods, equally heretical?
No. Let’s look again at what is said about the tower; we are not told exactly what the purpose of the tower is, but again, that it was made of manmade bricks in absence of natural, organic stone, in the absence of what was there without them—in the absence of Gd. It wasn’t the act that proved so offensive, but rather the godlessness of the foundation and inspiration of it.
In this way, if we, as individuals, choose to include Gd in the actions of our everyday lives, to realize that what we do which may seem so far separate from Gd, really is just as connected as water, trees, and air.

As a conclusion to my Dvar, in tradition with the environment, I gave all the girls a Bracha to be ‘fruitful and multiply.’*

From the previous week’s Parsha, Beresheit, we are commanded to be fruitful and multiply. The problem with this is that, especially as women, there is a very limited amount of time in which this mitzvah is even possible.
In the beginning of Noach, we are told that the toldot-offspring- of Noach are firstly that he was a righteous person and secondly the names of his children. Rashi explains that this is because the most important offspring of a righteous person are not necessarily their children (which are of course important) but their good deeds; based on this, we can all be fruitful and multiply in our deeds for our entire lives, filling the world with our most meaningful offspring, our mitzvoth.

what happens in some classes...

Today in class, our teacher questioned us:

If we [Jews] all have a neschama, and the Torah is in fact our true nature, than how is it possible that some people [Jews] do not live according to their true nature?

She asked us each to take a few moments to write our own thoughts to this question, and asked us to share what we thought. A good lesson: don’t ask questions of people you are not prepared to hear answers from.

My answer:

If we truly accept axiomatically that Jews are inherently and naturally constructed internally according to ideas of Torah and the Jewish neschama, and accepting the assumption that the vast majority of the people [Jews] who do not live strictly according to the Torah are in fact of sound mind and body (which is fair, as 1. we have not all been institutionalized, and 2. Gd has not found it necessary to smite us all, as the Torah tells us happened to the irrevocably perverse generation needed to be wiped out by the great flood), than the only logical solution that can be drawn from these statements is that what is today interpreted as the way in which one needs to live in order to be living according to the Torah has been perverted from what it in actuality means. Do not mistake this for my opining that those who do live a more traditionally lifestyle are wrong, but rather that the spectrum of lifestyle choices that are in fact acceptable according to what the Torah tells us is greater than is today recognized.

Again, if it is an accepted axiom that we, as Jews, are inherently drawn to living according to the Torah, to living in harmony with our Neschama, than it would be physically and psychologically unhealthy to live in a way that contrasts with the Torah. The reality of people being able to live fulfilling, healthy lives in a way that perhaps is not exactly in line with what the orthodox community sees as the canonical was of the Jewish life is proof that this script is not mandated and necessary for each individual Jew to live to his or her full potential.

I have just relayed this opinion to the teacher. She seemed thrilled, and then reiterated to the class what I had said; she said that the issue is that we cannot know our natures, and we misunderstand what the Torah is accepted as saying, because we don’t know what we are. She says how the rabbinical interpretations of the Torah are what understand what our true nature is, and that for the individual it is a constant battle to bring themselves to the understanding that will allow them to live in harmony with what the Halacha tells us is our nature. This is what the teacher understood me to be saying.

Sometimes I wonder why people ever even bother trying to say.

(side story:

This same teacher has multiple times used different examples of how people, starting from infancy, learn to meet the world; she explains that a child who crawls along the floor, sees something, picks up the brown unknown substance, and puts it into his mouth and discovers it is sweet, enjoyable, and his mother than encourages the child, explaining the substance as chocolate, offering the child more. The teacher explains that this is the important way in which people physically discover the world; however, this sort of behavior, encouraged and accepted, actually just encourages taking things from the ground and imbibing them, unsure of what the circumstances may be. Teacher, perhaps you encourage your children to eat strange things from the ground, but I would not do.)

Side story 2: According to the bias of Rivka Marga, when people cut out large parts of their selves, of their lives, in order to fit into what they think is the accepted mold to which they think they are expected to fit, it is not good. Rather, each individual needs to be able to create a tailor made relationship between themselves and Gd.

and I had an epiphany

I have realized a great thing, maybe for the first time since I have arrived here.

Sunday night, I walked into one of the girls rooms where a few girls were talking, two of whom are very good friends of mine. One of the girls got very uncomfortable, and told me that she didn't want to ask me to leave, and didn't want to talk about what she was talking about in front of me. I knew what she was talking about (a boy, which is awkward, because she is technically shomer negiyah, but had been hugging him and such at a bar). I also knew it wasn't a personal thing, but simply that I had not been there on the night this all happened, as the other girls in the room had. The other girls told me to stay, but I didn't mind her asking me to leave, so I did.

Later, she gave me a big hug and said she felt bad, and asked me if I was mad at her. I told her, truthfully, that no, I was not mad, but rather sad for her.

I realized that the worst thing that I could ever be, is someone who is so uncomfortable with myself, that I cannot face what I am doing in my life in front of my peers. If I am so ashamed of what I am doing that I cannot own up to it, than clearly either my standards or my actions need to be adjusted. However, I can honestly say that there is nothing in my life that I would not be able to admit to in almost any setting. And while I can feel that way, I know I am okay.

My father's cousin's daughter's husband's sister's family...

is technically family (in-law). Last weekend, since it was an out-Shabbat at Mayanot, I decided to contact Yamit and take her and her family up on their offer for me to come visit while I am in Israel.
Thursday afternoon, I traveled with Anna to Tel Aviv, helping her move all of her things there, and intending to meet Arlene, my first-grade teacher, who had arrived to Tel Aviv that morning. We got there easily enough, and indulged in the grocery store, buying hot dogs, french fries, and sweet wine to dine on that evening. Before dinner, while Anna took a nap, I walked to Arlene's hotel, where I had a glass of wine with her and her husband at the hotel lobby. Who would of thought that I would one day find myself having a glass of wine in Tel Aviv with my first-grade teacher.
Hot dogs are yummy, Anna has discovered the wonder of carembas, and I finally saw the movie 'Seven Pounds." Very beautiful, very sad. All very fitting for my goodbye slumber party with Anna.
The next morning, I checked out the antique market at Kikar Dizengoff, met with Musha and Anna briefly, and then went off to the bus station to head to Kfar Varburg, where I would spend Shabbat with Yamit, Assaf, Shahr (2.5yrs) and Ela (5 months). Bus drivers can be frustrating.
This was my first real time in a Moshav, and it is incredibly endearing. For Shabbaton, we went to Assaf's parents, where I met his sister, and where Yamit's brother, whom I had met at Emily and Boaz's wedding in June, also joined us. Dinner was delicious, and kugel with eggplant is a great idea.
The next morning, we joined six other families for an all day Jeep Tiyul. Starting at 9:30 am, the seven jeeps went off roading, stopping for a morning coffee break, an afternoon barbecue at the JNF Bulgarian Park with tons of delicious kebabs, burgers, and of course, hummus, as well as tons of good company.
The day continued with several more hours of off roading, exploring caves, seeing views and then a pancake break at sundown.

I had to head back to Jerusalem this evening to be ready for class the next morning. Serendipity let me meet up with some of the girls at arriving back, and we had a brief night out before heading home to bed.

Thanks for an amazing weekend, Yamit and Assaf!

lamah at ohevet tel aviv?

I made the decision to move to Jerusalem to do something different than the big, cosmopolitan city for a while. I am glad for this decision, but I still have been going to and from Tel Aviv a bit often. From both sides of things, this is often questioned...the religious in Jerusalem do not necessarily see the appeal of Tel Aviv, seeing as too big, too secular, too removed from the neshama. Those I know in Tel Aviv don't necessarily understand why, if I like Tel Aviv so much, I still choose to stay in Jerusalem. But really, these things aren't about choices, Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, religous or secular. That is the whole point of this--there isn't just the black and the white, I am here to further develop my gray zone. But no matter how much I am determined to stay in Jerusalem, to experience every aspect of what it means to live in this torn and tethered city, Tel Aviv keeps drawing me back. The city itself is like the sand on its beaches; beautiful, a bit dirtier than maybe preferred, but incredibly soft and fine, to the point that once you step foot onto the sand, it is unlikely to ever be able to wash it off of you completely.

Tel Aviv, yet again

Minus the Simchat Torah disaster, the time in Tel Aviv was lovely. Friday afternoon was spent doing a bit of shopping, Friday night by far the highlight.

After eating some dinner on the beach, I remained there, just thinking and relaxing and watching the ocean and the stars, when suddenly a man rode by on a horse. I immediately called Hayley, who reacted with surprise. She and I discussed ways we could convince the man to give me his horse, wondering if I would need to trade myself for it, in old Middle Eastern fashion. When he rode by again, I asked him where the horse came from. This man spoke no English, so I had to manage with my very minimal Hebrew. As it turns out, the horse was his own. After a bit more conversation, shockingly enough, he asked me if I wanted to ride! um...YES.

He dismounted, assisted me in mounting the steed, Anta, (a bit harder because of the soft sand and the hornless english saddle) and hung out by the gazebo as I rode up and down the beach for about 10 minutes.
Called Hayley back immediately after saying good night to the man--she was impressed.

Saturday was to be a total beach day, possibly one of the last good ones of the season. I arrived at 11 am, and left at 6pm, having spent the majority of the day with a few other American girls who had been sitting near me, all in various stages of Aliyah.

In the evening, I met up with an old NFTY-GER friend whom I hadn't seen in 7 years. Josh, less infrequently, I think :).

Sunday was to be a reunion day-- long lost Anna was back in Tel Aviv with her new friend, and after not seeing one of my partners in crime for nearly two and a half weeks, I went to the apartment she was staying at at 11 in the morning for a session of catch up, followed by lunch at the wonderful sandwich kiosk and an unplanned shopping spree, where we badly influenced one another. Then our trio was completed by the arrival of Hayley from Haifa! The three of us returned once more to the beach for the afternoon, before Hayley and I bid once more farewell to our musketeer and trekked back to the bus station to return to Yerushalayim.

Simchat Torah

Simchat Torah is a holiday that rejoices in the Torah, commemorating the end and beginning of the reading of the Five Books. In the States, I love this holiday, singing and dancing at Temple Shalom, watching as the cantor de jeur attempts to run the entire length on one breath. However, realizing how much a spectator I would need to be as a woman in Jerusalem, I decided to spend the holiday weekend in Tel Aviv.
Saturday night, after the Chag was over (by Israeli custom), a group of Beslov Chasids came to the boardwalk by the beach where I happened to be sitting, enjoying the water, and were dancing and celebrating with the Torah, encouraging passersby (males) to join in; in theory, I thought this was all nice and well enough. As I watched this happen, however, a sadness enveloped me. I remembered how it was to actually hold the Torah, and be able to dance with it, a privelage--a right--that had been struggled for by Jews in so many lands, and by women over so many centuries, that I in a way yearned for it. It was an absence that I imagine is felt in so many different sorts of relationships--the yearning of an absent lover, a parent kept from their child, and a child kept from their parent. The Torah, which simultaneously is what has maintained me and is reliant on me to be maintained, had often felt merely as an extension of me, and here I was, forcibly kept from it by a non-obligation turned prohibition, and my heart broke.

And then I got angrier than I have maybe been in a very long time. Sitting merely 30 feet away, I watched as one of the Breslovers jumped down to the beach, urinated on the beach (surrounded by a big city with endless bathrooms), and then returned to his fellows, holding the Torah to dance.
1. This man was not a child, nor an animal, nor stranded in the middle of the woods. In what world is it acceptable--reasonably--for an individual to simply pee, on a beach, where less than ten hours later people would be?
2. In what way is it at all appropriate for a man to go from holding his penis while he urinates to holding the Torah, and yet my holding the Torah would not be appropriate?

I stood for about twenty minutes, developing a bit of a speech (in Hebrew) to scold this man; in the end, I was not brave enough to deliver. It took a phone call to Musha and to Hayley, venting and elaborating on the ways in which this was unacceptable, before I was able to relax enough to fall asleep.

the little bird, to caitlin, with love

my lovely roommate caitlin leaves tomorrow, returning to haifa for a semester of academic study. She has a favorite Nigun (a chasidic song), called The Little Bird.

The little bird is calling
it wishes to return.
The little bird is wounded,
It cannot fly but yearn.

It's captured by the vultures,
Crying bitterly,
Oh, to see my nest again,
Oh, to be redeemed.

The little bird of silver,
So delicate and rare,
Still chirps amongst the vultures,
Outshining all that's there.

How long, how long it suffers,
How long will it be,
When will come the eagle,
And set the little bird free?

The little bird is Yisroel,
The vultures are our foes,
The painful wound is Golus,
Which we all feel and know.

The nest is Yerushalayim,
Where we yearn to be once more,
The eagle is Moshiach,
Whom we are waiting for.

When I was in Haifa on Thursday, after riding the cable car, I saw on the sidewalk a beautiful bird, it's wings splayed out to it's sides, very much alive, but clearly injured. I looked around for the first person I saw, and asked the man if he knew if there was someone we could call to help the poor creature. He said he didn't know, but while his wife, modestly dressed with a Hijab, and children waited, this man and I discussed what could be done for the bird. In the end, together we agreed that the best thing to do would be to move the bird to a less exposed place, and try to place some sustenance within reach. This episode made me think especially of my roommate and this Nigun she loves so much, and something seemed to poetic and beautiful about the fact that here was this actual injured bird, and the most that could be done for it was a collaboration between this man and me, him an Arab, a Muslim, me an American Jew.

still a week of vacation

Last Sunday I arrived safely back from Berlin, Monday I went to Hevron, and Tuesday I had planned to head down to Tel Aviv, except rain was predicted, which never came. Oh, well. Instead I went to the Arab shuk in the Old City with a few of the girls, and then spent the evening down town with Hayley, Irena, and a certain yeshivabucher we know and love. This evening was in place of joining a lot of the Yeshiva girls to go down to Geula and Mea Shearim to watch (passively) the Haredim (Men only, of course) dance. I am not exactly the spectator-Jew sort.
Especially post-Hevron, I decided that it was time again to get away from Jerusalem, and so decided to go and visit my friend and his family's sukkah in Haifa. Haifa is pretty far from Jerusalem. And it is pretty pretty.

I arrived in Haifa and my friend picked me up at the bus station. For Sukkot, there was some sort of street fair going on, which we briefly purused before getting some burger ranch (kosher) and going back to eat it in the Sukkah.
Thursday morning, while my friend was in a meeting, I walked through the Bahai Garden in Akko, and only Gan Eden could possibly be more beautiful. Thursday afternoon, Hayley and her father were arriving into Haifa, so after spending a couple of hours on the beach, I met them and rode the cable car up the Carmel with them, before scurrying off to the train station to go to Tel Aviv, meeting Roi and Asaf to go hang out with Nadav at his work and eat some dinner (all cousins). Roi and I enjoyed watching some of the pretty men play soccor, occasionally with input from Asaf. Thursday night I stayed in Petach Tikvah at Roi's, meeting Mike (his adorably cuddly dog) and discovering just how amazingly talented an artist Roi really is. Before heading back into Tel Aviv the next morning, Roi and I enjoyed breakfast at Cafe Hillel.
Back in TA, I met Shai for a quick coffee before doing a bit of shopping and checking into the sky hostel for the weekend.

Hevron, where craziness comes out a few days of the year

So yesterday I went to Hevron. It is one of the holy cities for Judaism, maybe the holiest after Jerusalem, because it is the site of Machpelach, where Abraham bought land and built a kever in which to bury Sara, and in which consequently Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rebeccah, and Leah were all buried. The city of Hevron, however, while being official a Jewish settlement, is a very controversial place, and is located in the West Bank (sorry, Mom), thus making it an extremely controversial place. The cave at Machpelach has been divided, with a Jewish section and a Muslim section, and the two groups are not allowed to visit the other's side. However, because the tombs of Isaac and Rebeccah, as well as the fountain of Gan Eden (said to be the entrance to heaven) are on the Muslim side, on ten specific days of the year, coinciding with different holidays, the Muslim side of the Israeli controlled holy site is closed to Arabs and open to Jews (and Christians, agnostics, etc). So, deciding this was likely a once in a life time experience, I decided to go with two of the girls to Hevron.
The insanity begins.

I had some tasky things I really needed to get done in the morning, and combined with my only waking at around 12, I was not ready to leave with the other girls, so I decided to meet them there. Since the city is located a bit deep in the West Bank, getting there is a bit complex: first there is the local bus to the central station, then bus 160, which takes us halfway to Hevron before we switch to a bulletproof bus to go the rest of the way, and then we are dropped off in Kiryat Arbah, a neighboring city, about 15 minutes walk from Hevron. Believe it or not, getting off of the first bus and onto the bulletproof, bullet dented bus was the calmest part of the entire event.

I have been in some scary situations. I was on the tube when the second london bombing happened in 2005. I was in a car accident in which the car did a 180 degree spin through three lanes of traffic into the woods. However, getting on the bus at the central station in Jerusalem was by far the scariest thing I have ever done.
Because of how special the day was at Hevron, EVERYONE IN ISRAEL TRIED TO GET THERE. Black hatters can be quite scary. People were all pushing and cramming and jamming, trying to get onto the bus, I was sure people would be knocked over and trampled. There was screaming and fighting, one man even knocked the glasses off another, and he retaliated by throwing the man's black hat away. Had I been shorter, I may have suffocated. Police were called to control the intense mob scene, and all in all, it took about two hours to get onto a bus and pull out of the central station to even begin to head toward Hevron. During this ordeal, I made friends with an Ethiopean girl who had made aliyah with her family in 1991-- very interesting, and she helped me with my Hebrew!

Once I arrived, it took quite a bit of effort to find my friends, but eventually we were together and online--meaning in the throng like crowd- to enter into the Kever. here, again, I saw how scary women--especially religious women--are, as everyone pushed and shoved, nearly knocking over the barricades to try to get into the site first.

While the whole experience was very exciting and ought to have been very spiritual and very special, the crowds, and especially the percieved anger emanating from the crowds made it a bit
difficult to appreciate how amazing it was to be at the grave of Avraham Avinu and Sara Emeinu.

the worst of the entire thing: so in this cave there is the well of Gan Eden-- this site, covered by a silver cap, at which a stream of air continually rises and you are supposed to be able to talk directly to heaven, and therefore directly to God. Again, however, this spot is only accessible to Jews about 10 days out of the year, and the women trying to get at the site were very eager to see it, to pray at the site, which can only really be accessed by one person at a time. Try to get one angry Jewish woman to do this at a time and see how successful it goes. So many women were shouting and pushing, yelling in a way that I couldnt understand what was being said but could definitely tell the anger in it all--one woman in particular seemed absolutely livid at everything, she was yelling at everyone and hitting people, me in particular, trying to get to the front of the line. Definitely a change from the line loving individuals in Berlin.
Because I am so much taller than most of the women, they all saw me waiting for a long time, and all assumed that I had already done the well and was standing in the way, taking up space, which of course I couldnt explain was not the case. In the end with all the pushing and yelling, after I finally did manage to get to the well, when i stood back up i smacked the back of my head near my neck very hard on a metal bar, so that i couldnt even speak for a few minutes to tell my friend that I was alright. Very sweetly, the entire night she was checking on me, making sure I was waking up and coherent.

im told that in normal circumstances, visiting Hevron is a very spiritual experience, but on this day, while I am glad I was able to get there at a time when I could access the entire site, the trip was completely mundane.

I say that, on the frightening level, it will probably be hard to top the experience of getting on the bus. And don't worry, Mom, I don't have a concussion, today my head only hurts at the spot where I hit it.

Zurich is NOT the city that never sleeps.

Of course I was at the airport much earlier than I needed to be, although I only got there 2 hours before my flight. Arrived on time to Zurich, unfortunately, as I knew I would have twelve hours ahead of me there. By 10:30, most of the shops and restaurants were closed. By 11 pm, lights were off, and even the arrival and departure boards had blanked. Until 4 am, I maybe saw 4 people.
I lasted the night, aided by a small bottle of baileys, a bag of gummy bears, and some Turkish bread, rations from Berlin. The flight from Zurich was fine, I slept a lot of it, and chatted with my swiss seatmate (I was able to understand her Swiss German--quite a feat!) It was a strange feeling to know I was coming home, but the home I was coming to was Jerusalem, not something I had ever anticipated necessarily. The girls I came home to were all great to come home to, and of course my fellow heathenishy ones. In 72 hours, I managed to travel through three countries, switzerland appropriately being the neutral, limbo-like place of the journey, and arrived right back into the swing of things with Sukkot.

the rest of the week in Berlin

Wednesday I was lazy. Everything caught up to me a bit, and I slept until nearly 12. By the time I got out of the apartment, it was around 2. I walked around a lot, popping into a few boutiques in prenzlauerberg, and especially near my old haunts, stopping by Sophienstrasse, Rosenstrasse, Hackescher Markt, passing by the Neue Synagoge. At this point, I noticed that I the NS was the same Israeli guard that had been at Pestolozzi Str, with whom I had chatted a bit on Monday, and he also recognized me. We chatted a bit again about how he is just synagogue hopping in Berlin, and I had the great idea that I would love to interview him, as an anthropological interest, about his life and interactions in Berlin and with the Juedische Gemeinde, so I proposed the idea, and gave him my contact info.
I had plans with Kat that she would come over and I would make us dinner, so I met her soon at the market, and she and I bought the supplies for the dinner I had in mind: stuffed eggplant (vegetarian dairy dish).
I was able to have a healthy, hot meal waiting for Claudia when she came home from another long day at the library as well, and Florian also joined us after his class. The eggplant could have been a bit more baked, but all in all, was a good meal.

Thursday I met Rob and Stefan in Kreuzberg for lunch at a small italian cafe, and had my first pumpkin dish of the season (PUMPKINS!!). It was also the first real conversating I had done in German, not counting my interview, in quite some time, which was refreshing and successful enough. In honor of free museum evening-Thursdays, after some tea at his place, Rob, Rafi and I went over to the Hamburger Bahnhof art museum.
The most exciting exhibit for me was a short film being shown, Spielzeugland (Toyland). It takes place in the Third Reich, and shows the relationship between two families with small sons (who are friends), one Jewish, one not, when the German mother tells her son that the other family, who must go away, are going to Spielzeugland. I highly recommend seeing the short.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1280548/

After the museum, I brought the boys to my neck of the woods, to the Kohlenquelle in Pberg for a coffee before I had to head southwest for my interview with the import. Very interesting, notes to be analyzed, recording to be typed, possible report to follow.

Friday was Claudia's exam, and I so a big day for her. I met again with Martin in the afternoon for coffee, then went to find a relieved and newly coiffed Claudia to go to dinner with. The problem with small restaurants like falafel places that dont have you pay upfront is that the possibility to walk away and forget to pay exists. almost happened. embarassing. whoops.

That night, looking to unwind but not go crazy, my newly free friend and I shared a bottle of wine before heading back to the kohlenquelle with kat and florian to enjoy a few drinks and a juke box. The next morning, the four of us travelled back there for their breakfast, three euros for endless cheeses and salads, breads and sandwiches.

After packing my things up, while claudia ran some errands, I met Kat and Florian for some Tag der deutschen Einheits festivities at the Brandenburger Tor. craziness. not that I am one to generalize, but when germans don't have a line to que on, some just don't know what to do with themselves.

It took ages to finally get back to Claudia's, and I ended up leaving a bit later than intended, and then coincidentally ran into a friend again on the way to the Sbahn. but then, is anything really a coincidence?

the main event

Everything for the interview needed to be perfect, at least, everything within my control. The whole thing came about so suddenly and I wanted to be as in charge of the situation as possible, so Monday night after I came home from breaking my fast, Claudia and I did a dry run of my outfit, down the earrings, and then discussed potential questions, etiquette, and words that I may not know in German that I maybe would need to know.
I spent the evening reading up on some issues, brushing up on some phrases, and looking over the basic background of the Abgeordnete (like congresswoman) with whom I would be interviewing.

The next morning, I was so ready and intent to be early. Of course, with the Sbahn construction work being done, I was nearly 5 minutes late getting to the building. Fortunately for me, the abgeordnete was running 10 minutes late with the interview before me. During this time, I got to chat a bit with the two recent uni grads working in the office, and one turned out to be the former roommate of someone with whom I had studied in New York/Berlin--die welt ist doch klein!

overall, I would say the interview went well. There didn't seem to be too serious of language issues, and I had the correct answers to many of the history/protocal based questions pitched to me. The one question that at the time maybe I didn't handle best was one of my motives: on my application, I had stated my career goals as they had been at the time (and still largely are), most likely to be a professor. I was asked, if I want to be a professor, why would I want to work at the Bundestag? I gave a long answer about the beauty and necessity of interdisciplinary work and understanding, how no field can work in a bubble, how, as an anthropologist, I would be able to work in a political world in a more humanistic way. All good. Better would have been to include that the abgeordnete herself started her career as a teacher. (I decided to include this in the thank you note that I sent--I know this isnt a German tradition, but I was always taught that after an interview a thank you note ought to be sent, and it can't hurt anything...)

So the interview ended, it felt faster than it was (which I take as a good sign) and I will know in a month or so. Afterward, I made after-eight chip cookies with Kat at Shuff's apartment, and then met W at a local cafe, where we played with local pooches who were joining their owners for a beer. Oh, and I learned the magic of lighters.

let the waiting patiently begin.

so much to catch up on...first, Berlin and Yom Kippur

So I arrived to Berlin safe and sound Sunday mid morning--it felt in many ways like simply stepping back into my old life, getting back onto the bus that I know well, taking the ring to Schoenhauser Allee, where I would be staying with Claudia, which I have done before. After standard greetings and settling in, I washed up (in my hair I was still wearing the beach from Tel Aviv--my hostel had had bad water pressure), changed, and headed west to spend Erev Yom Kippur with a friend and his mother. I was very pleasantly surprised by his cooking skills, and the evening gave me a chance to get caught up with the election issues and ideas (as well as the see the results) as well as to get back into speaking German. Dinner was delightful, and the elections, especially for my SPD supporting hosts, were dissappointing. My overall judgement on them: Germans don't seem to vote very strategically. Granted, in this case strategy may not have resulted in victory, but the coalition and parliamentary system enables a more idealistic voter, not a practical one, and so the result in many ways reminded me of the 2000 presidential election, between Bush, Gore, and Nader.
Kol Nidre this evening was at a very small synagogue not far from where they lived, but it was a beautiful service, and felt very familiar to me.
Choosing to sleep in the next morning as there would be no first coffee of the day, I met Martin at 10:45 to head to the synagogue at Pestalozzi Strasse. A very old synagogue, rebuilt and consecrated about eight years after Kristallnacht, although they used a conservative Machzor, and the service was complemented with an organ (not really my taste, I prefer a simple piano), the women were seated on a level above the men, and keeping with the tradition of the synagogue, individuals and families 'owned' specific seats. They take this very seriously, as at about 12:30 pm, in the middle of the Shma (a very holy prayer), an older woman sternly taps me on the shoulder to inform me that I am sitting in her platz. Whoops.

I left the synagogue before the start of Yizkor (which individuals who have not lost their parents are not meant to attend) and decided to go home and take a nap before neila. Naps when fasting are good things. The whole fast wasn't so bad, and at neila I met another American girl recently moved to Berlin so that was nice, but the last ten minutes or so of the service were near torture. The sun was long set, and I had a special pop-rock chocolate bar I had brought with me from israel in my purse to break fast with, and the version of Avinu Malkeinu being done with the organ took ages.
Eventually, though, I found myself on the bahn back to Claudia's, enjoying my chocolate bar and beginning to mentally prepare for the morning: the big interview.