Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

justice doesn't cut it.

Last Thursday, Joe Tedesco was indicted for first degree murder, unlawful concealed possession of a weapon (or something like that), and unlawful use of a weapon.

People say that time heals wounds. Time does not heal wounds. Time allows us to become accustomed to our wounds, to learn to use them and to learn to live our every day lives with them,and to not let them control us. The way someone who looses a limb learns to manage without it. But just like a wound or a bruise, we have only learned to be careful for it. Exposed, newly agitated, it still hurts as much as ever.

four months later, part 2

this is going to be nutshell style. I decided to stay in new york, thinking staying could have as much adventure as going. I have since accepted a full time position with the animation company I am working for (and I will begin full time september 1st. As part of this, sometime this fall I will be going for a period of time to our Bangkok office. So I guess I will be going away after all.

four months later...

it has been a very long time since i posted.

less than a week after Alyssa's murder, in the middle of Pesach, I moved back into Manhattan. Through craigslist I had found a reasonable, comfortable, furnished month-to-month arrangement. This was perfect, since, still nannying, i had neither stable income, or a real idea of how long I would be in New York for. I had applications out to two programs abroad, an academic fellowship studying European Jewry in Stockholm, and a working fellowship with the JDC to somewhere in Europe, likely either Berlin or Serbia.
In the meantime, in New York, I was living between worlds. Coming from fresh crisis, I was now living with people who didn't know me, and didn't know about this; how could I explain? How could I have made it sensible, how would it have been fair to inflict strangers with this tragedy because I had to deal with it? At times, in my apartment, walking down the street, I would look around and just want to scream at the top of my lungs, "My friend has been murdered, how could this have happened!?!" the first weekend after I had moved into my apartment, I was out with friends; it had been too much, and i broke down.

I started finding ways to stay busy. I walked a lot, both to save money on the subway since income was unpredictable, to use time I had, and to exercise off the fat that had stayed with me from Israel. On average, I was walking 5-6 miles a day. I was aesthetically attacking my apartment, reorganizing all public spaces, cleaning with a vengeance, and finally, painting. This started with the window in the door of the bathroom, never a good idea. I put a Marc Chagall image on the inside, Frida Kahlo on the outside. Then I stenciled a tiled-look to the ceiling. Then a dandelion mural on one kitchen wall. Pineapples along the other kitchen wall. The apartment reminds me of Berlin.

And the job hunt. When I wasn't painting or babysitting, I was writing cover letter after cover letter, going through revisions of resumes, trying desperately to find, well, anything really.

Generally speaking, being back in the city was good for me. I began to regain control of my life, myself. There were days that I even felt like myself again, or what I thought that meant, at least. Things were here to distract me, seeing friends regularly, frequenting old locations and new ones. The volcano in Iceland occasioned enough to be talked about, and T, who had been in the city on a lecture tour, was around for a while. Got to see the Daily Show (thanks again), and I convinced him of the magnificence of Artichoke Pizza (he had been skeptical).
Beginning of May, I accepted a part time morning job at an animation company, going in from 7am-10am and, essentially, copy editing the animation. Shortly after, I was offered and accepted a part-time position at a locally conservative synagogue working with their teen-group, and teaching their once weekly gan-class in the fall. As a summer event, I went with the group to Six-Flags--the bus company had made a mistake, and we went in a luxury tour-like bus. Sweet.
Soon, I began to help out at a friend's art company (elementem.com). We revamped the website, and developed a marketing plan. At the beginning of June, I began management of a project at The National Urban Technology Center, a non-profit working for academic, life and professional skill development through the use of technology in urban communities. I suddenly found myself with 4/5 (part-time)jobs, plus occasional babysitting. At best I was working nearly 12 hours a day, and sometimes up to 18. things were becoming more comfortable.

At this point, I heard back from the programs in Stockholm and mainland Europe. I had been invited to both; from Stockholm, especially, this was a huge honor, since they only sometimes accept even 1 American. However, at the time my life was just gaining some stability. I was reeling still from the successive deaths of 5 people I had known (including Alyssa, and another of our high school classmates, who succumbed to cancer after many years), and bracing myself for two more still expected (one has since occurred). As much as the idea of going to Stockholm or back to Berlin appealed to me, enticed me, I couldn't bring myself to leave at this point. In addition to not trusting how I would do for a year in a foreign place without a support group, I was afraid of leaving again, and coming back a year older to the same instability I'd found after Israel. And so, I decided to turn down Stockholm and Berlin. Perhaps the greater adventure would be in staying, afterall.

morning mourning

I woke up this morning and for a moment, I thought everything that had happened in the last 24 hours had been a dream. Then I saw the garbage can full of tissues and the photo album on the desk.
Hopatcong, where I grew up, is not the sharpest tool in the shed of hometowns. The people aren't always the brightest, most ambitious. But it had a bit of small town charm to it, a nice lake, and a slight removal from other issues.
My friends and I had all been poised to get somewhere better.

Saturday night, amidst making plans for the week and taking care of her dog, my very good friend Alyssa Ruggieri was murdered in her home, shot to death.

It feels important that people realize that she was murdered. This wasn't some beautifully tragic illness. She didn't do drugs. It wasn't a care accident. It wasn't an accident at all. Another human being looked at her, saw her beautiful face, smile, heart, and pulled the trigger.
It reminds me of one of the ends of a Harry Potter book--after Cedric Diggory is killed by Voldemort, and Dumbledore ignores the advice of the ministry and tells the school the truth about his death. DUmbledore says that to not tell the truth would be an insult to his memory, implying that his death was any kind of accident, or due to his own mistakes.
I feel the same way now. Vague comments about my friend having died, people would likely assume car accident. Which could have been faulted to another driver, herself, the weather, the road, anything. Because accidents happen. This does not happen. This should not have happened.
I have known many people who have died, I have been to many funerals, too many this year already even. But each of those people, sad as it was, had lived lives-most had children, grandchildren, had had the chance to get married, have a career.
Alyssa was 22 years old. And she was so great, even in this economy and just out of college, she had a job.
I am not interested in talking about Guiseppe Tedesco, her murderer. He is more than a criminal, he is a villain. But this is a time I am glad I believe in God--justice on this side cannot compensate. The other side will have to.

What is most important for the world to know is how remarkable a person this woman was. We had become close friends since the 8th grade. A life time of being friends with Alyssa would not have been enough, and 9 years certainly wasn't. Alyssa was one of the bravest people I have ever known in the most dangerous of environments--High school. She would never just follow along, would always say exactly what was on her mind. She had a confidence that could never have been measured. Her devotion to her friends and family were unparalleled. Even as we grew up, grew apart, it never felt that way. Whenever together, it was like things had never changed.
But now they are changed forever.
I cannot give justice to my friend's greatness in words. Trying would be like trying to catch the moon in a butterfly net.

The entire world should feel the gaping hole now left by her having been stolen from us. The fact that there are people who don't know about it, don't feel it, is incomprehensible to me.

I will miss you every day for the rest of my life, Alyssa. Rest in Peace.
9.4.1987/3.27.2010

more than shoes.

after having lunch with a friend of mine today, I wandered into the shoe store on the corner to peruse their current 'exciting sale.' Not surprising, I found something that I liked--a pair of ankle boots, dark brown leather with straps wrapped around. Not something that would have traditionally been my style, but something about them called to me, and not just the for sale tag. I found out that the pair on display was the last in the store, and a half a size smaller than I usually take. But I decided to try them on anyway, and they were nearly perfect. So close to fitting. Especially being leather,I tried to convince myself they would stretch and be perfect. But every lap around the store, I could feel that they were just slightly too short, and would eventually hurt. So I put them down, determined to go to the same shoe store two blocks away and see if they had what I was looking for (since of course this location couldn't call over for me). Unfortunately, they also were completely out of stock. Not ready to give up just yet, I decided to check the Strawberry on another corner of this same street...sometimes they surprise you. And I was! There, on the wall with the shoes, was one pair of the boots I was looking for, in my exact size. Even more than that, they were a better sale, and $50 less than the first pair I had initially seen. But the color was different--a different shade of brown, like a camel, generally a color I really prefer. And yet, when I looked at them, all I could see was what they weren't. Even though in the context of themselves, I would have loved those camel boots and bought them in an instant, all I saw in them was what they were not--the dark brown. Since New York is abounding in shoe stores, I decided not to settle and to keep looking, trekking through the mush and slush and snow toward Soho, toward what my mind told me I wanted, through more than half a dozen additional shops. No luck.

Ok, I realize that this may seem entirely shallow a story to share--boohoo, the girl couldn't find her shoes, not that she needs any more anyway. But really, this is more than another example of American consumerism and greed...this is the problem that so many of us have in our lives. I was so convinced of what I wanted, that dark brown boot. And yet when I first found it, it didn't fit, but rather than be dismayed or reevaluate what I was looking for, I convinced myself that with so many places to look, what I had ideally in mind must be out there somewhere. And so I passed on the pair a bit too small, and I let go the pair exactly my size (and more my budget) determined that this now holy grail of shoe must exist somewhere. Everywhere I went, where I would see other possibilities, I did not see them for what they were, but only for what they weren't. I had prematurely locked myself into this corner of an idea of what I was looking for, that even when I found what was actually perfect in so many ways, all I could see were flaws.

I finally realized this, and what this meaningless search I had send myself on really meant about my problems in general, and decided to go back to Strawberry, get the boots in the other color (which were even preferred by some of the friends I had sent pictures of them to!) Of course, as is only appropriate in such a story with the moral given, by the time I got back there, the perfect boots were gone.

(in a nutshell for those who wanted to skip the intro about my incessant shoe shopping: too often, we get these ideas of what we want and convince ourselves that even though it really wasn't right when we were first exposed to it, it is right in the end, and nothing else will do; then, when we see other things that could be right, or that are even more right than the first, the memory of the first taints us so that we cannot see things for what they actually are when we find them.)

i don't know if i've been changed for the better...

...but I have been changed for good.

It seems like a long time has passed since I last wrote, a long time since I sat in the lounge in Tel Aviv. I guess it is because it has been a long time.
I had expected a slightly rocky and slow transition back in to my old life, my old places. I expected time to deliberate. Who could have predicted that, due to two deaths in my immediate community circle in the firs few days I was back, I would see nearly every single family friend at least twice, and be asked what I am doing now with my life more times than I would ever wish to count. Unpacking and adjusting to the cold weather don't seem to be acceptable answers.

The return was in many ways surreal; in one conversation with my mother, she asked me if I really felt like I was coming home, she asked me even, where I considered my home to be. This might seem like it ought to be an obvious question, but how could it be? Was home Roseland, where my parents live, my dog lives, my room is and all my things are? No, how could it be a place filled with but separated from my life, a place I hardly knew and knew no one in. Hopatcong, where I had grown up, spent 19 years? I had never truly felt home there, and less so with most friends moved away, and my childhood house covered in Christmas decorations. Berlin? Jerusalem? True, these places were beloved, invaluable, but foreign. I realized where I considered home to be--a place where I had actually lived, grown in, and the first place where I chose to be. New York.

As my time back, wherever I was, some things had improved. I had started making a proper Shabbat dinner every Friday night at my home. I was seeing old friends, reconnecting with people I hadn't seen in a while. Eventually, after the constant Shivas ended I went to spend a week in the city, seeing my friends, walking my old routes, returning to some old and loved places, routines. Things that always seemed immortal. And yet somehow, in a certain way, it had become foreign. Not just the snow, which was a shock to my middle eastern comfortable system, but something intangible..
even though you return to the old places, people, it seems that from some things, you really just can't go home again.

but that doesnt mean you stop trying to.

Chassidim never say goodbye

It certainly seems like the time has come for me to go, everything seemed to know it: Shabbat afternoon, while I was reading in my room, my empty mug, sitting on my shelf, suddenly cracked. Monday morning, while cutting a carrot, my knife broke in half. And so here we are, Tuesday morning, 9:50 am. My flight leaves Israel in one hour, 25 minutes. I am sitting currently in the Dan lounge, drinking a cappuccino and a diet coke. Very Israeli of me. How did I get here?

Sunday evening, in honor of the Frediker Rebbe’s yahrzeit (I won’t even get into the creation of still more holidays by Chabad…not the issue of the entry), we had a nice sueda (meal) and presentations about Judaism around the world. Then I participated on a panel about how I find Gd in my everyday life. After, there was a fabrengen at Rivka Marga’s, which I intended to go to before it began to downpour, hail and all. I guess I would stay in and pack instead. As I had returned from Ramallah too late to ask Chaim to get my suitcases for me, I was unable to do more than organize, and during this time, Jen and Sara joined me, with some chocolate liqueur.

Yesterday, Monday, mainly went by in a blur. I actually got up early, went to Chassidus, figuring I might as well go out in style. The classes were interesting, Monday being one of my favorite days, with Rabbi Levinger first, and Pearl Bloch third. The whole day seemed almost like a performance, knowing how the classes would go, how they would end, from the beginning. The hugs, the goodbyes, good lucks, all things in health and happiness. Dina Hendel asked who would be there to challenge her now I was leaving, Pearl Bloch reminded me how she would miss my reading, my curiosity, and we agreed to stay in touch, that she would send me the week’s lesson. By the end of Nechama’s class, when I was asked to direct the lesson, and then to say a few words, I thought that if I spoke anymore that morning, some of the other students would leap across the table and kill me. During lunch, I called to make my Nesher reservation, and as Chaim had finally arrived for the day—the one day in Mayanot history that he needed to come in late—retrieved my suitcases from the attic storage.
After class and lunch, the rain subsided enough that Hayley and I went on a trip to the shuk by way of Rivka Marga’s—she wasn’t there, but Rayzel and her friend were a fun little diversion, trying to keep us from leaving. I walked through Mahane Yehuda, wanting to study every inch of it, taking in the sites and the smells, the sounds of the merchants advertising their goods, especially in preparation for Tu B’Shvat. After buying some candy, dried ginger, halva, and a fresh piece of laffa bread, while simply perusing the area Hayley and I saw a new addition to the shuk—an olive oil shop, looking like a William and Sonoma display, and therefore very out of place.
On the way home from the shuk, last purchases in hand, we stopped again by RM, and this time she was home. After a short visit, a L’chaim on sweet wine, and a non-goodbye hug, Hayley and I set back out into the rain to go home for dinner, and so I could finish my packing, now that I finally had my suitcases.
At 9:30, after a nearly tearful goodbye with Chaya Levinger, Naomi, Jen, Erica, Elysia, Sara, Hayley, Laneia, Zack, Nechemia and I set off for Café Café for a final drink before I would leave the next morning, complete with a photo session.
This morning I woke up at 5:20, since my Nesher was due between 6:45 and 7, and I had to pack the last minute things and say goodbye to people, some who had gotten up to see me off, and others who asked me to wake them before I left. Laneia joined me at 6, and Hayley at 6:30, which was very good, since the nesher, which is usually late, arrived 10 minutes early. The down side to this was that then we needed to rush to bring my bags outside and get them all into the car, but what is probably good is that then there was no time for any sort of teary goodbyes, which I felt might have been coming on, at least from me. BTW, big thanks to Laneia, Hayley and Naomi for helping me to carry out my million pounds of luggage.
So now I sit here in the lounge, waiting to board my plane to take me back to New Jersey. But it reminds me of what I said to Dani and Hillary at their goodbye fabrengen, when we all talked of what it means to be going back, and they were concerned about their ability to be who they now were when they went back…the reality is, in our lives we almost never go ‘back’ per se—even if we are returning to a different place, a place we came from, we are still going there with the new parts of ourselves, with the current versions of who we are, so even going back is really just a different direction of going forward. No matter where we go, we take everything we have experienced with us, and changes, for better or worse, stay with us, so there really is no going back.
Looking out the window right now, I am thinking back on all I have done and seen, and all the people I have come to know these past five months, I am thinking about all I am going to in the US, and all I am leaving behind me here in Israel. But if there is one thing I have learned during these five months studying at Mayanot, it is that, although I am leaving Israel, and many people and places that I love here, I am not truly leaving them forever, rather just until next time. After all, Chassidim never say “goodbye”.

A few things about the politics, and some facts

One of the hardest thing about being in Ramallah was the discussions about the presence of the IDF, and Israel in general, in the “West Bank” and in any of the land, the ‘occupation’ of Palestine as a whole. I am not nearly right wing enough to suggest that Israel has done nothing wrong, and that the entire situation is entirely right and ethical, but the reality is that, as Mayor Bloomberg said, when your cities and citizens are under attack, “there is NO overreaction to terrorism.” When you are already acting outside of ethical means, ethical standards can hardly be practically or successfully applied.

Anyway, some facts.
The names of places such as Nablus, Galilee, even Palestine, came from the Romans as they conquered the ancient kingdoms of Israel and Judea, approximately 2000 years ago, and this is historical fact. “Palestine” was derived from “Phillistine,” the legendary mortal enemy of the defeated kingdoms, and so this name was used by the Romans to further destroy their conquest, not just physically but in name and in spirit.

Regarding the “West Bank”. What does this name actually refer to? The west bank of the Jordan river. In this light, it is easy to believe the truth—That Jordan, during the 1960s when they were in control of the region, rechristened the area as the “West Bank,” to further validate their attempt to annex the region. Before this time period, every map—those of the UN, etc—had this regions labeled as Judea and Samaria. Why did the entire world acquiesce to the idea of the name change? In the time period in happened, Israel was for the first time no longer always the small, weak David versus the Goliath; name such as Judea for a region is hard to ignore in connection to the Jewish people. The West Bank, however, seems much more neutral, and yet much less likely to be an authentic name in a land where Hebrew and Arabic are the native tongues. A rose by any other name may smell as sweet, but that doesn’t really suggest that the name is culturally unimportant or irrelevant.

Sunday in Ramallah

Back when Chelsea, Caroline and I had gone to Cairo, we met students from Europe and the US who were studying at Birzeit University near Ramallah. I have kept some contact with particularly one of the girls we had met since November, and finally, I decided I would take her up on her offer, and come and visit. Since Jess had taken me along to Bet Lechem, I invited her to join me in this excursion, and so at 10 am, we met at the Damascus Gate of the Old City, in East Jerusalem, and boarded the number 18 bus for Ramallah.
Marica, Salsa and their friend Banan met Jess and I at the bus depot, to which we arrived at with no issues at all, as the bus wasn’t even stopped by a checkpoint. Together, the five of us walked a bit around the center of the city and made our way over to a service, like a sherut, to travel outside the city to Birzeit. There, in addition to the memorials for Arafat and Hussein, the girls brought us to their university to show us the campus and to see the viewpoints, from which we could see the beautiful mountainsides in the region. Getting hungry, we jumped into a cab and traveled back to Ramallah to get lunch, a delicious traditional restaurant where we had soup, sameesh, hummus, baba ganoj, garlic salad, labaneh, and rock-baked bread. Finishing up, we continued to walk around the city for a while, ending our day at Stars and Bucks Café, where, unfortunately, they did not have standard mugs that Jess and I could buy (although they gave us Stars and Bucks stickers.) Coming onto 4pm and not wanting to be going through a checkpoint after sunset (especially since, even though Jess and I both have Israeli student visas, we had not idea of what a checkpoint from the capital city of the Palestinian Authority would actually mean) we said our goodbyes to our hosts and went back to the bus depot. In the end, the checkpoint was hardly anything, only taking as long as it did (about 10 minutes) because the guard in charge of checking passports was training another about what to look for, rather anticlimactic.

Saturday--Just a typical night

Instead of any sort of goodbye party, I wanted a simple, normal evening with the usual suspects, and so, a facebook event came into being: Just a Typical Night. Along with Hayley, Laneia, Zack, Nechemia, Elysia and Jen, we began Saturday night at the Soup Place (tomato and cream, plus lots of pesto) and then made our way over to Blue Hole, where we were joined by Beeno, Shu Shu and Dudu, as well as Sara and of course Edwin, who informed me of my great potential as a possible Olah Hadasha, and the great opportunity to be part of a young country. He predicts I will be back here soon, maybe within a few months even. We’ll see. Typically, I left off my Blue Hole time with a hot apply cider with rum.

Shabbat

One last Shabbat in Jerusalem. Although I got home only at 5, I woke up at 10 to start my day, taking a nap again after lighting candles at 4:23. Nearly 15 of us were going over to Loren’s for dinner that night, and so a little after 6 we made our way over. The
whole evening was beautiful, and Loren had done an amazing job of putting such an event together, but unfortunately, I began to feel sick (bad headache) and had to take
myself home early, going straight to bed and sleeping for nearly 12 hours for the first time in a long time.
The next morning, as we all lazily got ourselves ready in the morning, Malkah, an army veteran, gave us a short self defense lesson while we discussed her upcoming marriage, after which Hayley and I took ourselves over to the Barkai’s for our Shabbat lunch, French-Israeli style. From the beginning aperitif through the rhubarb tart, both company and fare left nothing to be desired.

Thursday

Originally, as this is my last Thursday in Israel, we had talked about having some sort of party, barbecue, something, but then drama mixed with bad weather changed that. So, since a friend of Hayley’s was having a birthday party in Tel Aviv, we decided to go there. Although we had planned to leave early in the afternoon, unexpected things pushed us back, so that we actually left around 8pm, arriving around 9. Not even a little bit into our night, Hayley and I were immediately walking down the street singing. Definitely a good sign for the night to come.
Since we were passing it anyway, we decided to stop by and say hello to Anna and Omer—Hayley the creep covered the eyehole as we knocked on the door, and Anna literally shrieked and she saw us walking in the door. After a short visit and a bittersweet goodbye, Hayely and I continued on our way to 70 elephants, stopping for some L’chaim along the way.
The place was a wine bar, mainly located in the basement level. We entered into a lively scene, embraced into the heart of the party by a mix of Israelis, Olim Hadashim, and Americans, and started off with a tequila shot. I’ve got a feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good night.
As it happens, TW was also staying in Tel Aviv, so it would only make sense that we would meet here—he’d said he might be going to a concert, and would likely meet us at 70 elephants, probably between 10 and 11. Showed up at 12:30, true to form. Otherwise, the meeting was very nice, potentially helpful. And then the most unexpected thing occurred—just after T left, I sat down to call Hayley, organize ourselves since it was 2am, and our bus at 3, and then I turn next to me and see my cousin, Nadav. Now of course this isn’t necessarily the craziest thing per se, he does live in Tel Aviv, etc, however, as a major city, there are plenty of bars, and even within this bar there is plenty of space, so it seems clearly HP that we should meet there. I hadn’t been sure it was him at first, my contacts were dry, it was dark, but after looking for a few minutes I said to him, “Nadav?” and he turned around, “Elizabeth?!” We chatted for a bit, and then it was pumpkin time, so Hayley and I said our goodnights and left. Our bus arrived back to Jerusalem around 4am, and for some reason decided to drop us off by Mamilla Mall instead of at the Central Station, significantly more convenient for us. We got ourselves some hot dogs, and walked home, getting to bed at 5.

Are biometrics making us more or less secure?

Biometric issues are not something that I am especially familiar with. I know that the current American passports have chips in them, and I know that I am glad I still have an old one—a little less big brother, but other than that, its largely enigmatic. And so, I had Shai enlighten me.
In Israel, especially the government issued ID cards, which people get at age 16 and are meant to always carry (although don’t always in practice) are extremely forgeable. A bit worse than the old New Jersey driver’s license, the ID is pretty much a piece of paper with a photo, laminated. Makes sense that Israel would want to reform this; even NJ switched to IDs with holograms.
And so Israel decided to create a great data base with everyone’s information, and have it connected to ID cards and passports. The level of the technology that this data base would be set in would allow [somehow] for a camera to scan a crowd, be run through the system, and, through photographing individual’s faces, compile a total list of everyone in that crowd. More than just those in crowds, those who demonstrate and protest. Shai’s point against this, especially, was that then the political and police machine would be able to build profiles of average, law abiding people, the sort that usually only exist for those who have been through the justice system, would be able to profile people for their religious views, sexual orientation, political involvements, everything. Theoretically, if it remained secure, there isn’t anything necessarily inherently dangerous in this; the problem is, the individuals who would have access to this information would at their essence be human, and capable of human prejudices, human grievances, and flaws. And therefore, of abusing access to such information. Additionally, in the initial plan, the company who would be overseeing the database implied that they would have no issues with selling select information, plus the reality that databases can be compromised by skilled hackers. Just a few years ago, a great database was made of all dog owners in Israel, meant to keep track of vaccinations, etc. Eventually, it was hacked into, and now any random person can download the entire database. With the new biometric system, the stalking abilities would make facebook and twitter seem like jokes, very private.

Additionally, a complete implementation of biometrics into the IDs would compromise the security of Israelis abroad, and especially of future Mossad (Israeli FBI/CIA) agents. If the database were compromised, then Israelis traveling abroad would be sitting ducks to those who would wish to kidnap or target Israelis (and less face it, unfortunately that is a real possibility). As for the Mossad agents, even if their files were deleted after they became agents, Israelis get IDs at 16, and many get passports earlier; even if at age 25, 30 or whatever their file was erased, their preexisting information would still be available, and endanger their secrecy, and security.

It makes sense that the easy argument for the other side is that, anyone who is law abiding should have nothing to fear, as long as they are not doing things they would wish to hide; additionally, this system would make the justice system in certain ways more able and capable of solving crimes. However, even more than people, computer systems are fallible, no matter how strongly we rely on them.

Wednesday

Class as usual. I had intended to get up early to go to Chasidus. That didn’t happen. Classes. Rabbi Hendel, Rabbi Schapira, Sara Zadok, Dina Hendel. These were my last classes with Rabbi Schapira and Sara. I’ll especially miss his class, he generally represents things very well, and can actually hear another perspective, even if it isn’t something he agrees with. A rare and invaluable quality in a teacher, to a certain degree especially on a Wednesday at Mayanot. After class, I went to meet Shai for a final time on this trip, since he was in Jerusalem to speak against the new biometric passport and identification system being implemented in Israel. We spent a couple of hours at Tmol Shilshom, slightly altering my plans for going there in the evening with Laneia.
Later in the evening, along with Sara, Jen, Hayley, and Zack, Laneia and I went down for a drink at Tal Bagels. The girls keep saying it is important to spend time together since I am leaving, but I have been insisting on typicalness still. No tears from anyone before Monday at the earliest, myself included.

It's the final countdown: Tuesday

Nadav dropped me off back by the Dizengoff Center where I met up with Anna and Jen, who were shopping. The rain that had been predicted was finally beginning to come, especially in Jerusalem, as Hayley reported. Instead of waiting for a bus, Jen and I sprang for a cab to get back to Mayanot. Taxi from the Tachana to Mayanot: 34 shek. Not needing to stand in the rain: priceless.

Tuesday morning. Officially one more week until I leave to go home to the States. I woke up to a surprise, an email from TW, letting me know he was in Israel, asking if I was still around; always a surprise on Facebook. In the evening I met Yiftach, with whom I had studied in Berlin. I felt bad that he lives less than 20 minutes walking from where I have lived the past five months and this is the first time that we are seeing each other. Five months may seem like a long time, may seem like enough time to see everyone, to know everyone you are supposed to know and meet, but it goes by surprisingly fast. He is such a surprising combination of ideas; as radically left wing as he is seen as being in many ways, such as his tshirt with a Palestinian flag, which reads (in Arabic) ‘free Palestine,’ and on the other hand, he works at Yad Vashem, does work internationally in Holocaust awareness and education, and asked me whether I had met a nice Israeli while here, particularly commenting that if I had called him when I was first here, he has parties sometimes, and he knows many nice guys. Politics regardless, everyone is a Jewish mother.

hanging out in the city

For a change, when coming into Tel Aviv Hayley and I missed the stop we had intended to get off at, and so had to get off at Hahagana, the Central Station, which is in actuality anything but central, but rather very large. It was a nice enough day, so we decided to walk to meet up with Jen, which allowed us to walk along Shenkin Street and admire all the shop windows. Along the way, coincidentally, we also ran into Tanya on Allenby.
We finally met up with Jen around 4, dropping off our things at the apartment where she was staying and hanging around to watch Super Sweet 16 on MTV for a little while before heading out again.
Eventually we went to my favorite eatery to get dinner—the sandwich shop. Amir, our sandwich guy, was just leaving as we got there, but we were able to hello before he went home and went off to miluim (reserve service) the next day, and Hayley and I were able to get our delicious deli delights. After we were satisfied, we went to meet Anna and Omer to catch up. Hayley then went to a concert with a friend of hers, while Jen and I stayed at Omer’s place for the night, catching up with Anna and each other. Since the dangerously torrential rain predicted for the next day seemed not to be coming, after sleeping in, again, Jen, Anna and I went for a small breakfast at a local café and to do a bit of shopping. I got a Golda Meir tshirt. Happily, since I was staying in Tel Aviv again, in the afternoon I met Nadav (my cousin) for lunch. While we were inside the restaurant, there was a short downpour. Nadav explained that he loved the rain, but conceded that his having a car made him less inconvenienced by the rain. Also in the restaurant with us was a cat, probably owned by someone who at least worked there, who flirted around amongst the different patrons, settling in Nadav’s lap for a while; although he protested, I got a picture of this.

taking the train to tel aviv

Although I was still a little bit tired, I decided to stay awake the entire train ride, looking out the window at the landscape that passed before me. I watched the Mediterranean crashing to my left, the mountains waxing and waning to my right as we passed out of Haifa. The city turned into countryside, exhibiting horses and goats grazing in fields. While Hayley dozed across from me, I watched Israel traveling past me while listening to my Ipod, watching places I had come from being left behind me. It truly began to hit me that I would be leaving Israel in about a week, and these places that were passing by me as I sat on this train, places I had spent some time in, may never be seen by me again. Although I was going to Tel Aviv, a very exciting thing, going to see friends, family, places I have come to love, I had to leave Motzkin and Haifa, a place I had become so comfortable with. And really, that is the problem with going someplace. No matter where you are going to, in order to get there you need to leave someplace else behind.

No party like a Shabbat dance party

Shabbat again, this week an out, so Hayley and I went north to spend the weekend in Motzkin (a suburb of Haifa) with a friend of mine. In the end, my friend would not actually be at the apartment for Shabbes, but at his parents’, where his new niece would also be for Shabbat. Understandable. Making ourselves at home, after eating our Shabbat dinner, Hayley and I indulged in some spirits (in the form of Greygoose) which led to our having a loud, energetic song and dance party in the living for an hour or so. What began with a reenactment of a scene from The Proposal (to the window, to the wall) led to an all out party, complete with Spice Girl’s songs, Brittany Spears, Christina Aguilara, Aretha Franklin, Shania Twain, Rent, Wicked, Fiddler on the Roof, the Black Eyed Peas, Ace of Base and a medley of other 90’s pop artists, with a cameo appearance by the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

After exhausting ourselves, and our BAC, we concluded the night playing Connect 4 and Phase 10. Although we had planned to go to Schul the next morning, and after that to go visit the zoo my friend had shown us the day before, by the time we finally woke up at 11:30 the next morning, we were too late for schul and then utterly unmotivated to get dressed and go out. It was clear that the zoo was not going to happen. After lunch, we got back into bed, played a game of Phase 10, and read/slept for the rest of Shabbat. I managed to read an entire book again (Running with Scissors). I think reading on Shabbat will become a tradition of mine…if I finish a book every Shabbat, it would be a good thing. When T came home Saturday night, the three of us decided to go to the mall to get something to eat, and to see the mall, of course, and then watching half of V for Vendetta before going to bed. Although T had to leave before 6 am the next day to go to university, Hayley and I slept in again, getting up finally around 11 and heading out of the apartment for the train station, heading down to Tel Aviv to meet up with Jen and Anna.

Banquet

On Thursday, the 14th of January, we would be having our second annual Mayanot Banquet, honoring the girls, the teachers, the alum, and above all, the donors. We expected around 120 guests, and we (the girls at large) were in charge of making the whole thing work. I somehow was a cochair of the food committee. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were spent baking in three different locations (at Mayanot, at Chaya’s and at Rivka Marga’s, where I was, making five recipes of cookies.) Through late nights for many people, especially Laneia, who was in charge of the art display, eventually Thursday came. The final five hours before the event were frantic, with salad being washed dried and cut up, fruit salad being put together, dessert platters built, etc. But eventually everything came together, the night went off well, with Naomi’s MCing and Hayley’s Dvar Torah being well received. It was nice to see many of the people in a more social setting.

After the banquet Hayley and I rushed home to change to go to Jess’s Pink Party birthday bash, where we were joined by Nechemia, Beeno, Zack and Laneia. Jess eventually found pink boas, so what more could be asked for?

Sneaky

Hayley brought back something from the US extra special—Inglourious Basterds on dvd. Sunday after classes, we took the dvd and went over to Zack’s to have a movie party. After the movie was over, I told her I had to head downtown to meet a friend of a friend that I had been postponing meeting, someone I didn’t really want to see. Zack explained that he also was meeting a friend in town, so, naturally, we walked together. What Hayley didn’t know was that this was actually our sneaky plan, heading downtown together to help Zack buy a present for her for their 2-month anniversary. When she found everything out a couple days later when Zack gave her the earrings, she was stunned. Aren’t we sneaky.

In/Out Shabbat with Laneia

Friday night, Laneia, Miri and I were placed for dinner in the Old City by the Schlosses’. I had heard that Rabbi Schloss was into mysticism, etc, and that he ‘read’ people.
After going to the wall to daven, the three of us went to our host home for the night, where a table was set for maybe 30 people or so, and a table complete with jalapeno pepper vodka (which I had). Halfway through the meal, Rabbi Schloss, who had been leading the discussion almost as a shiur the entire evening, suddenly quieted everyone and announced that Miri, as a relation of the Rebbe, would speak, and everyone should listen (this is not something she planned). After a moment of hesitation, she looked around, then looked back to the rabbi and said that she would pass her stage to her left, to me. Thanks, Miri. Nope, I had nothing prepared. I tried to tie in to what the rabbi had been saying, to which I had only been half listening, and in the end did pull off a decently well thought out short dvar, or at least, Miri and Laneia insisted it was, as well as a few of the yeshivish guys who were sitting across from us. I guess it wasn’t so bad.
When we had entered the house and seen that there were a number of yeshiva guys there, especially some from the men’s Mayanot program, I had jokingly told Miri that she would maybe find her shidduch. That’s why we were all surprised when I ended up spending the whole night talking to someone: ivy league, lawyer, upper west side, taller than me, seemed perfect—he even walked us/me all the way back to Mayanot at the end of the night. During the walk, however, he got right to business, discussing issues he had faced in relationships, marriage hopes, etc, and it soon became clear that he wanted much more of a traditional/subservient sort of wife than I could ever be. Oh, well…generally those who seem to be extremely eligible and perfect have problems, anyway. I guess no shidduch for Liz afterall. Saturday was another lazy day, with Laneia and I having a sleepover party and staying in bed nearly all day. Plus side, I finished the book I was reading, The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm. Not necessarily something I would recommend, though.

Birthday

While at Ein Gedi, I received a few phone calls from America, my brother and my mother calling to wish me a happy birthday (thanks!) That night, after getting back from Ein Gedi, I went to Timol Shilshom (my favorite coffee shop in Jerusalem) with Laneia, Zack, Nechemia, Jess and Tanya. The next day, in honor of my birthday, along with a few other girls I went to donate blood (very good thing to do, everyone who can should donate!) Hayley, who only just got back from Texas early Wednesday morning, was still sleeping all day, so she insisted that we should all go out again on Thursday night for my birthday (thanks, Hayles!). Dressed in my new birthday dress that Hayley had given me, we went to pregame by the boys’ and then set off for town to go dancing, where Laneia joined us. The boys, sweetly protective as they can be when we go out, were a bit too overprotective…maybe that’s why I get along with Nechemia so well, he reminds me of Josh… after not getting into a couple…altercations, we decided around 1:30 it would be best to leave.

Tuesday is for Tiyul: the trip to Ein Gedi

On January 5th, my 23rd birthday, and a Tuesday, Mayanot took a trip for the footsteps of Jerusalem program, although this trip extending a bit past the city itself. The plan for the day, which was only announced a couple of days before, was to head southeast to Ein Gedi, visiting the Kibbutz and botanical garden, the nature reserve, and the ruins there.
We left Jerusalem before 9, very early, and so I slept nearly the whole trip down.
Along with our guide, Eve, we started off at the Kibbutz, the only one in Israel with a botanical garden on site, to see a handful of their more than 1000 species of plants, including a great many species of cacti, Sodom apple trees and even a couple of great banyan trees. After we had concluded this tour, we boarded back on the bus and went over to the reserve, where the first agenda item was lunch, for which we were joined by a large group of Ibex (small, goat like animals that live in the mountains). Even though I was sorely tempted to give one my carrot, I listened to the sign which forbade feeding the animals, expressing this through a picture of an ibex being fed a carrot, with an “X” through it. Definitely explicit enough.
After eating, it was time to hike…maybe not the best order of things after all. Hmm. We did the standard short Ein Gedi hike (not everyone was dressed for real hiking…I was…I felt a bit silly.) On the way back, we passed by the main pool in which people often go swimming. Not surprisingly, being January 5th and all, no one was swimming at the moment. That wasn’t to last long though.

Eve asked if anyone was actually going to go in, or should we just head back. No one moved. It was time to take initiative. Although I hadn’t brought a bathing suit, I had worn many layers of shirts, and two pairs of leggings. Good to go.
After getting down to my base layers and stripping off my socks and sneakers, I waded in. Cold. But soon enough, I was used to it, and after a quick head dunk, it was actually quite comfortable. My example was soon followed 
Before long, Ruthie, then Candice, then Malkah, Naomi, Deborah, Elana, Elysia had submerged, and then, to top it all, Rivka Marga, with her sheitl (wig) and all, joined us under the falls. Apparently, there are fresh water crabs in Ein Gedi. There was one by the fall. Not kosher.
After we left the reserve, many of us got ice cream, and then we went over to the archeological site, where the remains of a more than 2000 year old synagogue lay across from the Dead Sea, complete with a still recognizable bimah, aron hakodesh (Ark), mikveh, and a beautiful mosaic floor. The group who came to the site as we were leaving, maybe 10 yeshiva-bucher types with a teacher, behaved very badly, climbing over the ropes and walking on the ancient mosaic, etc, and so when no one else (ie, Eve, our guide) said something to them, I took it into my own hands, scolding the boys and their teacher for disrespecting not only an archeologically important site, but also a schul, still holy no matter how old.

its finally happened!

I am caught up! took long enough, and not a moment too soon.

Tomorrow is my 23rd birthday. I'm at the end of my early twenties.

we (Mayanot as a whole) are going on a tiyul to ein gedi and the dead sea, coincidentally. Should be nice.

Shabbat comes again

For services for Kabbalat Shabbat, I went with Jen to Yikar, a local synagogue with the rep of being organized by the Rabbi as an intentional meet market—I was curious to see how much of a parade the whole thing really was, and had heard a great deal about it. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected, and the davaning, as the shul is carlebach, was actually very nice.

The first Shabbat of the new year was an in Shabbat, and an especially interesting one, as it is the first since we have had a 50% increase in girls, so our meals would have more than 50 people at each. Expecting 50 people to know what their jobs are for the meal, and to do them without needing to be chased, is expecting too much.
The meal itself went so late, and the room was so crowded, that instead of staying for the official fabrengen, Naomi, Sara, Nechama and I snagged some goodies and fabrang on our own in our room until I fell asleep.

Saturday I stayed in bed until after 1pm, went to the meal, and then went nearly back to bed. Rest is good.

2010

The last week of December, the last week of the decade, passed relatively unremarkably, full of lots of naps, occasionally going out (especially as Daria was still here) and watching Disney movies streamed from youtube. Thursday night, New Years’ Eve, came before I knew it, and we decided to spend it in the usual company, starting at our usual place in a usual manner. We gave the night a slightly earlier start, assuming most places would get crowded earlier. It was our normal group, plus some additions from amongst the new girls at Mayanot, another reason to start early.

Along the way to meet Nechemia and Zack, we picked up a curious stranger, who became less and less attractive as his story was displayed, from dropping out of high school to a decade of drug dealing before moving to Israel, hoping to get onto the Derech and “find himself”. It seems that so many who move to become religious do so after falling farther than expected possible.

In general, the New Years was like most: I had built it up as having a great potential to be a great night, and found that everyone who should and should not have been was out in the streets, everywhere that was anywhere, even silly places, suddenly aspired themselves to have lines, charge covers, and people generally mobbed about like apes.

We ended up going to Blaze, hearing a decent blues band, and watching mid-life crisisers dance like they thought they were teens. Things were entertaining, things were trying, people were not always what we hope them to be.
Happy 2010, even if New Years eve is not like what we see in movies.

and it was good

The Shabbes following Christmas was an in/out, and I was anxious for some rest after the preceding week. Laneia and I had decided to go to dinner by one of our teachers Friday night, and were due to be there at 7pm. Although the address could not have seemed simpler, in reality there were two buildings of the address, one very obvious and wrong, and the other less obvious and correct. We circled the block for nearly an hour, close to giving up and going home, before we found the right place just after 8pm. The downside of being Shomer Shabbes, you cannot call when you are lost.
Saturday, Shabbes day, Laneia and I had decided to stay home and not take a meal anywhere, instead spending the day with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and eating in bed, staying in pajamas all day. This was a good day of rest.

to that little town of bet lechem

Hayley was to head home early Christmas morning, spending a week and a half in Texas for her mother’s wedding, so I spent the previous night at the Mayanot apartment, intending to help her pack but actually just sleeping through it all and waking up to a note from her shortly after she had left.
For the morning of Christmas day, I had arranged to go with Jess and some of her Pardes friends to Bet Lechem, since I could hardly pass up the chance to visit such a place on such a date. I met Jess by her apartment at 8:40, and we were to meet with the rest on derech Hevron at 9 to catch the bus. One of the guys, who seemed to be the coordinator of the expedition, told us of a free bus going to and from Bet Lechem from a nearby monastery and so we passed up the Palestinian mini-bus and set off for the church.
And we walked. And walked. After approximately 40 minutes (from Jerusalem to Bet Lechem is only about 9 kilometers to begin with) along which we could see the transition out of Jerusalem, we walked passed the eruv that surrounded the city, and even saw a shepherd herding his flock across the street, we found the right church, and after inquiring within, were informed that there was no free bus. But by this point, we were only about another 15 minutes from the checkpoint, so we continued on foot.
We got through with relative ease, just needing to show our passports, and then entered, for the first time, into Palestinian Authority controlled West Bank territory.
From the other side of the wall, it was another half an hour walk to Manger square, the first bit actually along the wall.

It was interesting, coming for the first time really into contact with the security wall. I am not even interested in hearing it compared with apartheid, or hearing it called a racist segregation—such comparisons are degrading to the histories and victims of actual apartheid. The reality is that the wall and the checkpoints, unfortunate as they are and as tragic as the effects have been to everyone, especially the Palestinian-Arabs, were built as a response to the multiple successful suicide attacks that took place nearly every week during the second intifada, and were not built to hurt people, but to protect people.

It is just further proof that the sins of a few will curse the many, the innocent who have done nothing wrong.
And this needed security, while succeeding in preventing further attacks, further angers and hurts the newer generations, making people become more radical and more upset, thus creating a cyclical curse of uncongeniality and hatred on both sides. What can be done. Perhaps more to come on this later, after I am all caught up to the date…

Back to the wall itself. In many ways, it physically reminded me of the Berliner Mauer, especially in graffiti to be found on it. In general, throughout the city and along the wall, the graffiti art was impressive, and inspiring.

Along the walk to Manger Square, we were constantly wished Merry Christmas, and invited into local shops and restaurants to see the ‘local offerings.’
True, there was a very great Palestinian military presence all around, but even still I felt perfectly at ease. Or at least, as at ease as possible when I don’t understand the language around me, which is more than I can say for my companions who were constantly concerned of any sort of separation between the four of us, even just a bit of distance if two lagged behind the others.

We first went directly to the Church of the Nativity. Within the site, there were two churches, an orthodox church, and a catholic, in which mass was in progress (the Orthodox church celebrates on January 6th). It was incredibly packed, and very international; in general, I was sad to see that there was an incredible lack of formality amongst the worshippers. It may seem shallow, but I have always thought that places of holiness deserved greater measure and effort than jeans and t-shirts. I also think it is weird when Jews not only know all the latin hymns and such, but think it appropriate to sing along with them, when I imagine they are talking about the holiness of Jesus and Mary and the church, etc….I have no problem being in a Church, but I wouldn’t recite prayers, or think it necessarily appropriate for a non-Jew to recite the Shema or something when sitting in Shul. Anyway.
After mass, we went into the Orthodox side, which was much darker and older looking, and had parts of which that looked like parts of a barn. Apparently you could see the actual manger in which Jesus was born, but the line for this was very long, and Shabbat was to come in eventually.
After we left the church, we stood in Manger Square for a bit, watching pilgrims sing and dance (and seeing the sale of things such as tourists would buy, including helium balloons, including army tank shaped helium balloons…) and then made our way to the Milk Grotto, where it is said that a drop of Mary’s breast milk hit the ground and turned everything white. It was also very crowded, not necessarily a place for someone who is claustrophobic.
It was getting later, and people were hungry, so we went to find some falafel before leaving. I was not too hungry, so Jess and I decided to forgo the 5 shek falafel sandwich, and order simply some pita and hummus. It was the worst hummus I had every eaten, even the pita was pathetic. And then we paid 30 shek for it. Lame.

The one negative thing that I have to comment on about the people in the city, which is also something that I saw in Hebron, was the very frequent use of toy guns by small children; and I do not mean neon colored nerf-type guns, but very realistic, noise making handgun and rifle and machine gun type toys. At one point I even watched a three year old standing on a wall behind his father/uncle whomever, who was leaning against a car. The child had a very large toy gun, which he had pointed into the back of the adult man.

Eventually we found our way to the stop where the minibus would leave and go back into Jerusalem along Derech Hebron toward Damascus Gate, boarded the bus, and went back across, stopping at the border to disembark from the bus, show our passports to the Israeli border police, and then reboard the bus. The man who looked at my passport thought my having a residency visa from Germany was exciting.

BBQ

Christmas eve night, my tradition is always Chinese food, often a movie. Originally, this had been the plan between myself, Hayley and Laneia, but then it was decided that Nechemia would be having a barbecue this night in the park since Daria, his girlfriend, was visiting from Boston. It may not be Chinese food, but its good for me 
Around 9 we set out, including Jess, for the park. One of the beautiful things about Israel is that you can have an outdoor barbecue at night in the end of December.
The barbecue had all the usual suspects present, including a guest appearance by Nechemia’s parents, who were very nice, as well as a few neighborhood dogs. We ate, we drank, we schmoozed, the boys rough housed near to fire, nothing unexpected, and around 1 am or so, we packed up and all went our separate ways.

l'hitraot, irina....

The problem with studying in a place where there is not a set schedule and people can come and leave as they may is that people do just that, and leave before you would like to see them go. On December 23rd (this week in December, if not already evident, was a very full week, and every day demands its own post), Irina was to spend her final day with us, her nesher coming at 4 am between the 23rd and 24th. We all tried to spend every moment possible getting good quality bonding time, packing together and everything, and at 9:45 pm a lot of us all went down to café rimon to eat and schmooze with girl time, and had planned to after meet up with the guys for a drink before sending Irina off. Time seemed to speed up, and before we knew it, it was nearing midnight, her nesher was to come at 3:45, and she hadn’t finished packing, so we had to finish up at rimon and simply spend the walk back home with the boys. Around 1:30, we set ourselves back to packing (mainly I packed Irina, and Laneia, Tanya, Hayley and Sara helped clean up her room, while Irina started saying her goodbyes.) We were done by 2:30 am, and didn’t need to leave Mayanot to head over to the Levingers’ with her things until just after 3 (Irina had had some confusion with the nesher people, and they got pissed, refused to send her a car, so we had to fake a new person at a different address) so all of us collapsed in the lounge and took a short nap. Then Irina said more goodbyes, and Laneia, Irina and I started off with her luggage. Just after we got to the right address, Irina decided she needed the bathroom, and it was 3:30 am, so the only option was to go back to Mayanot—just after she left, however, the nesher called and said they would arrive in five minutes, and so I had to call her to come back (poor dear, she got lost coming back!! From two blocks away…) and before I knew it, she was packed away into the car and gone…and then there were three.

meeting with destiny

The next day, the 22nd of December and the 5th of Tevet, is also a special day in the Chassidic calendar; for some reason, I was never quite sure why, it is a special day of books, and people are supposed to buy books, and give each other books.
(side note: very sweetly, Mayanot got a book for each of the girls here, Feminine Spirituality, a translation and discussion of a discourse by one of the Chabad Rebbes. Although the book itself seems interesting and the ideas perhaps even inspiring, it is painfully obvious that the editors did not even use spellcheck—the first sentence in the preface describes the books as a great addition to the “Chassidic Jewish Herirage series,” and that is only the beginning…sigh.)

I had the chance to meet up with a friend of mine from when I had studied in Berlin with the Leo Baeck institute; although Omri is an Israeli, he and his wife have been living for some time in Stockholm, so it was an occasion to see him in the Eretz. The meeting was proof that although I have been living here for nearly four months already, I still don’t necessarily know all there is to know of the area, and he showed me a coffee shop, and then a tasty café that I hadn’t seen before.
Although he personally is Israeli secular, I was telling him about what I am doing here, and the studies I am doing at such a frum institution, and about how the previous day had been my Hebrew birthday, and we had a fabrengen. Suddenly inspired to know what his Hebrew birthday is, he took out his Israeli ID to check (interestingly, government issued IDs still have Hebrew birthdays as well as secular dates listed on them). Since his English birthday was coming up, he thought maybe his Hebrew one was, too. And what do you think?—his Hebrew birthday is the 5th of Tevet, that very day. Coincidentally, we had stopped at a second-hand book store already and bought some books, honoring both his birthday and book day…we agreed that it was appropriate that his birthday should be book day, and he an academic.