I guess that’s my way of saying that I’m back in the states. And it sucks.
I can’t handle much reflecting on it, but I miss Israel and my friends SO MUCH.
The first post on this blog is about leaving for Israel “tomorrow” (meaning the day after I posted it). I remember that day well. I was freaking out. I was nervous and excited, and thrilled and afraid, and I was wondering how it was possible to feel all of these ways at once. I was remembering my first day of college, and my first day of high school, and my first day of middle school, and my first day of elementary school, and my first day of pre-school. And I knew I felt the same at all of those times, because beginnings are rough.
I leave Israel tomorrow morning. Endings are rough as well. How do I say goodbye to this place I’ve come to love, and in truth loved right from the very start? How can I say goodbye to friends who feel like family? What’s going to happen when I no longer live in a youth hostel with my best friends? I know that the first morning I wake up in Florida, I am going to have this awful realization that my friends aren’t a four second walk away. And I’m going to cry. And maybe watch Shit Bnei Dan Girls Say and cry some more. And then I’m going to feel terrible because my family will be there, and they’ll want me to be happy. And they’ll want to hear how my semester was. And how can I tell them? How can I explain to them what these past four months were to me? What can I possibly say that can sum up all of the ways I’ve changed and grown in the past four months? Right now, I am the best me I have ever been, and I don’t know how to tell them I got there.
I’m trying not to focus on goodbye, because it makes me sad. Instead I’m trying to be happy. I have one more full day. One more day and one more night. And I can do with it whatever I want. What I want is to be with my friends. Because they’ve had my back this whole time, and I truly believe they’ll have my back forever. What I do with today is unimportant, as long as they’re there and we’re in Tel Aviv. And we’ll reunite outside of Tel Aviv, and obviously, it won’t be the same…but it still will be, in a lot of ways. This city brought us together, but I don’t think that leaving it will tear us apart. Our trip to Cyprus showed us that we can be a core crew anywhere in the world. Even in the US.
Being home is going to be different. It’s going to be REALLY different. But in the end, you know what? It’s going to be ok. I’ll cry for a few weeks, and I’ll always miss Israel, but eventually the US will feel normal again. It’s hard not knowing when I’ll be back in Israel, but knowing that I will be back gets me by. It’s so hard for me to leave this place, but it’s not going to be goodbye. It’s going to be l’hitraot.
I spoke to my friend from home this morning, and I was explaining to him that I’m not ready to leave. I’m not ready to become the girl I was before this program started. I’m not ready to become “New York Marissa.”
He said that there aren’t two Marissas. There is not a New York Marissa and an Israel Marissa. There’s one Marissa who was born and raised in Florida, moved to New York for college, and spent one incredible semester in Israel. And now she can take those experiences and bring them back to the States. And she can take the person she was in Israel and be that person stateside.
But I’m not really sure that’s true. Next semester, I’m taking a heavy course load. And I’ll be in New York, which is maybe the most stressful place in the USA. And I don’t know if I can keep myself from getting annoyed with everything like I did before and like I don’t do now.
But I think I might be coming to terms with my time here ending. A few weeks ago, I had one really incredible night with this boy. And it’s looking like I’ll never see him again which is fine. It’s not like anything happened that would make me feel bad about not seeing him again. And a friend of mine said, “You had one great night, and isn’t that better than two okay nights?” That applies to this semester, too. It’s better to have this semester end than it is to have had it never start in the first place. It’s so much better to have one perfect semester than two fine semesters.
For right now, there’s a sun in the sky and an ocean to the west of me and a beautiful park across the street. And I have good friends and good food and good wine and good beer. And I have good memories and great pictures. And I think that’s what I want for the rest of my life.
It’s going to be ok. Eventually, I’ll figure it out.
So you know how sometimes, you go for a drink with friends and your professor, but you kind of end up drinking a lot more than you actually wanted to drink and then you are at least a little bit drunk around your professor, who is giving you a GRADE? And then you start to think about things you don’t particularly want to think about. Like how you only have ten days left in Israel. And how the past four months have been completely different from how you expected them to be, but even so they have been the happiest four months of your life. And how maybe it doesn’t matter that you never did a lot of the things you wanted to do, because you have amazing friends and good memories and you did a lot of things you never knew you wanted to do. And then you start crying. In front of your professor who’s giving you a grade. And all of your friends are crying, too. And you just want to stay in Israel forever, because beyond the next ten days, you see no future. Life as you know it ends ten days from now.
Maybe that’s just me.
But actually, is there life after study abroad? A lot of people live to tell the tale, but I kind of feel like it can’t be true. I’m sitting at a cafe now, trying to write a paper, but writing the paper means it’s over. And how can I deal with that?
Hey. What’s up?
Here’s the deal: I need to interview Israelis for this final project I’m doing on Aliyah/other forms of immigration (but that’s mainly the suggestion of my professor…I really just want to focus on Aliyah) for one of my classes. And because I always feel really weird interrupting people at cafes (and because I really want to get this done ASAP so I can really enjoy my last weeks in Israel), I was hoping you all could help me out. So I’m going to post the questions following this message. You can inbox me with your answers, or inbox me asking for my email if you’d prefer to email them to me. It’ll be really anonymous, I promise, and only for this paper, and you’d be helping me out a lot! Thanks in advance!
Interview Questions:
How old are you?
Did you make Aliyah?
If yes, from where? What made you decide to make Aliyah?
If no, how long has your family been in Israel? From where did they
come originally?
What are your feelings toward Aliyah and olim in general? Do you
think they are positives for the state of Israel, or negatives?
What is your opinion of yaredah? If given the opportunity, would you
like to leave Israel? Why?
How do you feel about those who have left and returned? Do you think
all Israeli ex-pats belong back home in Israel, or that it’s okay for
them to stay outside of Israel?
What are your feelings toward migrant workers and refugees? Do you
think they are a threat the Jewish majority in Israel? Is it possible to
deny them a legal status and still remain a liberal democracy?
I didn’t have the option of studying abroad in the fall. If I had, I would have done a full year abroad. Maybe I would have liked to do the full year in Tel Aviv. More likely, I would have done fall in Buenos Aries and spring in Tel Aviv. But spring in Tel Aviv was always what I wanted. Why? If you come in the fall, you get the High Holy Days, and that’s pretty cool. But I wanted the holidays in the Spring. I wanted to experience Pesach in Israel. And most importantly, I wanted to be here for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut. Well, at first, it was mostly that I wanted to be here for Yom HaAtzmaut (something about Jews in the Diaspora pretending that they understand what Yom HaAtzmaut should be, but they don’t actually, and wanting to know how it actually is), and then I realized that Yom HaZikaron is the day before. And then I was curious to see the emotional transition between the two days.
Yom HaZikaron started last Tuesday night. My friends and I headed to Kikar Rabin for the ceremony on the eve of Yom HaZikaron, which was maybe one of the most moving things I ever experienced in my life. I’m at the point where my understanding of Hebrew is pretty good (though my speaking is still pretty terrible…I’m working on it), so the language barrier wasn’t so large an issue. Even though the ceremony was all in Hebrew, I still understood most of the testimonies. They chose to tell the stories of soldiers from all walks of life, who died in many of the major conflicts that have befallen Israel since its founding. Between testimonies, various Israeli musicians performed songs fitting to the occasion. A few rows in front of me, there was a couple, one male soldier and one female soldier; right after one of the testimonies, he turned to her and told her he loved her. I cried. At the end, everyone stood up and sang Hatikvah. It was so incredibly moving to see so many people in the same place, and to know that they’re all feeling the same thing.
I know that I can’t really know what it means or how it feels to be Israeli on Yom HaZikaron, but I think I have a solid idea. In the United States, Memorial Day involves sales and cookouts. We don’t collectively mourn those who paid the highest sacrifice for our country. But maybe we once did. I think what makes it so different and profound in Israel is that everyone serves. And because everyone has the collective experience of the army, that could be anyone up there. That fallen soldier is someone else’s son or brother or boyfriend, but he could be yours. Israelis understand the meaning of life, and of one life, and of the sacrifice of one’s life. Of course their memorial day is spent in actual mourning, memorializing the dead. It’s the least they can do to honor those who paid the unfortunate price that too often is paid for freedom.
I went back to Kikar Rabin for the changing of Yom HaZikaron for Yom HaAtzmaut, which was also an incredible—though quite difficult—experience. It’s very strange to need to go from mourning one second, to celebrating the next. And I don’t think I was quite as sad on Yom HaZikaron as most Israelis, nor was I quite as joyful on Yom HaAtzmaut.
It was Israel’s 64th birthday this year, and I’m so happy I got to celebrate here. In the States, so many people who are OMG ALL ABOUT ISRAEL celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut, but most of them haven’t been here for it. Most of them can’t comprehend the experience of being here for it. It’s a celebration of Israeli independence, yes, and a happy birthday to the only state many of them have ever called home. But it’s also a celebration of having survived to another Yom HaAtzmaut. It’s a being thankful that there’s still a place for the Jewish nation to call home after 64 years. It’s celebrating life. Yom HaZikaron is about mourning those who fell in the fight for freedom; Yom HaAtzmaut is about living in that freedom.
On the day of Yom HaAtzmaut, we picnicked in HaYarkon Park, and watched all of the barbecues and families. It was incredible. Really. And even though I think I smelled like barbecue after, I had the best time. This whole experience—those two days, in particular—are experiences I will never forget.
Israel is really an incredible place. I was talking to my RA about it the other day, and maybe the most remarkable thing about this place is how there are thousands of different realities in such a small space. You could live your whole life here, and never experience all of the different realities it offers. You just need to walk 100 meters to find a reality completely different from yours. And yet, on Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut, all of the different realities didn’t matter. Everyone was Israeli. Everyone was strong as one nation, and feeling the same things. And that’s amazing.
I think being here for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut made me really realize how strongly connected I feel to Israel. I leave in 16 days and I feel like a significant chapter of my life is about to end. I don’t want for it to end. I want to stay here forever. I can’t stop thinking about how these past few months have been the happiest of my life, despite some ups and downs. I almost feel as those being here saved me from a path in life that might not have made me happy. I think it’s about the people I’ve met and been with, but I think it’s also about this place. I think I owe it to myself to spend much more time here in the future. It could be on a ten month program, or it could be as an olah, or maybe the first then the second. But I don’t know how I’ll go back to such a stationary existence in the States. Not when I know what kind of a life I can live here, and knowing how happy that life has made and will continue to make me. I want to spend many more Yom HaZikarons and Yom HaAtzmauts here in Israel.
It’s Yom HaAtzmaut! Chag sameach! Today, Israel is celebrating her 64th birthday, and I couldn’t be happier to be celebrating with all of the Israelis this year. It has been no small feat to get here, and I am so proud of this little state that could (and still can!). But more on that later.
Today being Yom HaAtzmaut and all, I think it’s time I tell you all something that I’ve been keeping to myself for a while: I’ve decided that within the next 6-ish years, I want to make Aliyah. Preferably on the sooner side of that…like maybe I’ll just say “Screw the LSAT!” and come here for grad school…and then never leave. I’m American. I always have been American (what else would I be?), and even if I really do move here, I will always be American, at least in some sense. But over the course of this semester, I’ve realized that there’s something so so so so so special about Israel, something that goes beyond any spiritual connotation that the place may hold.
The fact is that I could live roughly ten thousand lifetimes, and it would never be enough to live all of the lives I want to live. I could live ten thousand lifetimes in the United States, and it would never be enough to live all of the lives I want to live there. I could live ten thousand lifetimes in Israel, and it would never be enough to live all of the lives I want to live here. Too much is possible. And yet, of all the lives I could potentially live in either place, I want to live a life here the most. I suppose I could come back for visits, but that’s not really feasible for a lot of reasons. There’s the financial aspect (visits to Israel are prohibitively expensive), and also the fact that I will eventually have a job and a life if I stay in the states. And even more eventually, a family. And then the time won’t exist. Besides, I could visit all I wanted to, but all the visits in the world would never be enough.
I’m working really hard on my Hebrew, and am hiring private tutors to help me continue learning the language, even though I don’t have the credits to take the advanced Hebrew seminar in the fall. I don’t know if I will ever be really fluent, but I think I’ll get to a point—quite soon, if I keep working—where I will be able to function in Hebrew quite nicely. Not perfectly, but good enough. And, while it’s not preferable, I can always throw in an English word where I don’t know the Hebrew one. Most people would understand. Language isn’t my main concern here. For once.
I don’t generally talk about the fact that my mother isn’t Jewish. I suppose she’s “officially” Catholic, except actually she isn’t and she hasn’t practiced at all during my life. She just never converted. My parents chose to raise us Jewish because my father’s Jewish faith and heritage is important to him. Legally, I can immigrate to Israel under the Law of Return, and receive help from the government, but the status of my Judaism is somewhat shaky in the Israel’s eyes. In terms of taxation, military service, and the like, I would be considered Jewish; in terms of everything else, I’d be labeled a “secular non-Jew” or “no religion.” I would not be permitted to have a legal marriage performed within Israel to a matrilineal Jew or a Jew with full Jewish parentage; I could only be married to another patrilineal Jew, and I would not be permitted to have a Jewish ceremony. I would also not be permitted to be buried within a Jewish cemetery. In order to be considered a Jewish citizen of Israel, I would need to undergo an Orthodox conversion.
Let’s emphasize that for a second: ORTHODOX conversion. Now let’s be real, if I could just undergo a conversion within my own stream of Judaism (I’m Reconstructionist), I totally wouldn’t mind doing it. (Though I’m honestly not even sure they’d agree to letting me convert if that were the case, considering they’ve walked me through every life cycle event from brit bat to bat mitzvah, and consider me a full member of the Jewish community.) Sure, I think it’s kind of stupid to convert into something I have always been, but I’d be able to swallow my pride and go to the mikveh and emerge whatever could be deemed acceptable. But the fact is that I am never going to be Orthodox. Even if the process of conversion were harmless for me—considering I’ve completed every major life cycle event up until this point, it might be…I don’t actually know if I’d need to undergo the full Orthodox conversion, or if it would basically still be a mikveh/beit dan/done deal—I don’t ever plan on being Orthodox. As it stands, I practice more out of cultural convention than out of adherence to ritual. It feels somehow fake to convert into something I’ll never actually be. Also, would an Orthodox rabbi even be willing to help me, considering I’ll never practice Judaism in a way he considers acceptable? I don’t know.
It’s offensive, really, that the only way I can be considered Jewish is an Orthodox conversion. Non-Jews who convert in any other stream have their conversions officially recognized by the State of Israel, as far as I understand it. How come they can come to Judaism as adults and be recognized as fully Jewish? Judaism is all I have ever known, and being Jewish is so much a part of who I am…how come there’s this question of whether or not I am, when this same question doesn’t exist for so many for whom it maybe should?
It was my mother’s choice—not mine—to not convert when she married my father. In my opinion, it was a very selfish choice, but I suppose she couldn’t have known that one day, she’d have a daughter who dreamed of making Aliyah. In the States, being of patrilineal descent was never an issue. Within the Jewish community I have always been a part of, I am accepted as a full member. The idea that my Judaism would ever really be called into question could never have existed within my parents’ imaginations. And yet. It became in issue in the States a bit when I started college. There were boys I wanted to date who couldn’t date a girl who didn’t have a Jewish mother, heaven forbid they maybe want to MARRY that girl. And now there’s this. I know my parents could not have foreseen that my mother’s refusal to become fully Jewish—though she’ll tell anyone who listens about how she’s practically Jewish, how she was so involved in our Jewish education, and how she celebrates all of our holidays and very few of her own (and then, it’s to be with family, not for religion’s sake), and how is that any different?—I don’t understand why I must be punished for something in which I had no say.
I’m meeting with my rabbi upon my return to the States to discuss my options, but right now I’m not super optimistic. Maybe that will change. I honestly wouldn’t mind being labeled as “no religion” or whatever if religion didn’t play such a huge part in the state here. But the fact of the matter is that it does, and if I do want to live here—and I really really do—I’m just going to need to find a way to make it work for me. And hopefully I’ll be able to think creatively and make it work. Because my time here is growing kind of short, and I can’t stop thinking about a future here. Above that, I should probably figure it out at some point, because I don’t want my future children to have the same problems that I’m having now. It’s just not fair.
In any case, it’s time to go out and celebrate. ISRAEL IS 64 YEARS OLD, EVERYONE! Isn’t that something?
I had a rough time choosing a vacation destination for Pesach break, but once a couple of girls from my program showed interest in coming with, I ultimately decided on Jordan. I did want to stay in the Middle East (it seemed our entire program went to Western Europe). I was also interested in seeing the Arab world, because I wanted to try to understand what living in an Arab country is like. Since very few would be willing to let a blatantly Jewish girl with an Israeli student visa displayed proudly in her only American passport, Jordan it was. Jordan also had very much that I was interested in: Roman Ruins, Petra, a few really cool biblical sites…I was good to go.
First Stop: Amman!
We flew into Amman on Sunday, April 8th, and landed sometime in the afternoon. We headed to the city, checked into our hotel, and then spent some time exploring our neighborhood. We had dinner at the famous Hashem restaurant, and then (on a recommendation from a friend on our program) had some kanafe from Habibbeh. SO DELICIOUS. We went to bed early, completely exhausted.
The next day, we had our hotel arrange a driver to take us to Ajlun and Jerash. Jerash is the largest Roman ruin outside of Italy, and I had SO MUCH fun just playing around. My friend wanted to test the acoustics of the amphitheater, so I ended up singing Call Me Maybe from the stage. The tourist police gave me a standing ovation. Success. Ajlun also offered really awesome views, and I’m really happy we went. For dinner, we had mansaf, the Jordanian national dish, and it was DELICIOUS. I was so pleased. And then we had more kanafe. Always delicious.
(Notice that I am wearing Toms. Do not wear Toms somewhere as sunny as Jordan. You WILL get a very awkward, very noticeable shoe tan.)
The next day—our last in Amman—we took a bus to Madaba. In Madaba, we our course spent time in the Church of the Mosaic, and I was very excited to find Jerusalem on the Mosaic Map. Also I eavesdropped on a tour these three Israelis were giving themselves in Hebrew. That made me miss Israel a lot. After lunch, we headed to the Latin Church. There, we climbed up a bell tower, and got to play in a live archeological site. It was AWESOME. We then negotiated a cab to take us to Mt. Nebo, wait while we looked around and took pictures, and then drive us back to the bus station. Unfortunately, the visibility wasn’t good enough to see all the way to Jerusalem, but it was fine. Back at the hotel we met two boys—one Israeli, and one a German studying in Israel—who asked us if we wanted to go out. We agreed, so we ate a quick dinner, and then headed to Rainbow Street with them. We had some shisha and some beer, and then went back to our hotel where we had more shisha and drinks on the roof. It was relaxing and really very nice.
The next day, we hopped a bus to Petra in the morning. The original plan had been to get two days in the park, but with an exam looming and actual exhaustion starting to hit, we decided to instead to nap and study. It proved to be a good choice. We needed the rest. That night at our hotel, we met a really cool kid who was studying at a school in a different part of Israel and we all agreed to go to Petra together the next day.
But how to describe Petra? It was actually incredible. Like….I’m not actually sure there are words for how great Petra is. Some highlights included me hiking all the way down from the Monastery by myself (I’m afraid of climbing down stairs—a weird fear, I am well aware—and the fact that I didn’t require help is quite amazing. We saw some incredible stuff…lots of great views. It wasn’t at all what I expected it to be like…but it was better. We hiked for nine hours straight. After exiting the park—no small feat, because the hike back to the entrance is pretty long and has some uphill sections—we went back to the hotel, ate, showered, and watched movies with our new friend.
The next day, we headed to Aqaba. Because none of my research thought it important to mention that there is only one bus from Wadi Musa to Aqaba on Fridays, we got to the station too late and had to hire a car. Our hotel room wasn’t ready and we missed a day of beach. At night, we ate a traditional Jordanian dinner, had a ton of shisha and Turkish coffee, and then went to bed.
The next day we met up with our friend from Petra and headed to the beach. After a day swimming in the Red Sea and lounging by a pool, I was sunburnt (which is very very very rare in my life). But it was still awesome. I especially liked seeing Israel, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia all while standing in Jordan. We had another traditional dinner and shisha that night. And then bed.
(Look at how excited I was to see Israel. And this point, I was SO EXCITED to go back.)
The next day we crossed the border at Eilat. Because we were saddled with our luggage, our flight left really late, and the border crossing barely took any time, we stayed in a mall food court with our luggage for five hours doing homework. Then we headed to the airport, where I was interrogated, and I’m pretty sure the only reason why was because the guy doing the questioning was fascinated by American Jewish life. Eventually we got our flight, went from Eilat to Sde Dov Airport in Tel Aviv, and took a cab home. When I got back to Bnei Dan, I wasted no time before hugging my friends. I was SO SO SO happy to be home.
(And it’s weird, right? That I now consider this home. I think I’m going to post on that later.)
I also just want to add that I think all I needed to start speaking more Hebrew in Israel was some time in the Arab world. Seriously, I am so happy people are finally speaking a language I understand again that I am speaking Hebrew to everyone who speaks Hebrew to me first. It feels great. I think I know a lot more than I thought I did.
…and now it’s time for some homework. L’hitraot.
Before this year, I hadn’t been to a Pesach Seder since I started college. It just never worked out. My plans fell through freshman year, and sophomore year, being home for my nephew’s bris worked out so that I missed both my parent’s seder in Florida and the seder I was invited to back in New York. In truth, I had missed it. Pesach was always among my favorite Jewish holidays, despite my hatred of the cracker-like excuse for a bread substitute that is matzo. This year, I was lucky enough to be in Israel for Pesach, and luckier still that one of my friends from the program is Israeli. She invited some of our close friends to her family’s seder in Caesaria. And I had the BEST time.
At this seder, even reading from the hagaddah was fun! And the seder itself was short, because everyone can actually read Hebrew, and it thereby goes faster. Everyone got SO into the songs, and Echad Mi Yodea was maybe the most fun I’ve ever had singing a religious song. The food was excellent, and the company was great, and I got to spend Pesach with my friends…I don’t think I could have asked for anything better than that.
At the seder, also, I tried sabras for the first time! (I mean the fruit, not Israelis.) They are delicious. Seriously. One of my friends and I literally could NOT stop eating them. They were just too good.
After the seder we were all full and walking around our friend’s neighborhood, and we may or may not have seen the house of someone VERY IMPORTANT and INFLUENTIAL in Israel. Not naming names. The joke is that we crashed his seder. In truth, they didn’t even leave their door open for Elijah. Rude.
Apparently, post-Seder is a really big night for parties, but we were in huge food comas and couldn’t bring ourselves to go out post-Seder. We just came back to Tel Aviv and slept.
I think it MIGHT have been the best seder I have ever been to. I don’t know how I can possibly go back to American seders now.
Next up: a post about Pesach break in Jordan.
(Side note: today marks exactly one month until I am torn away from Israel. I want to cry. I miss it here already, and I’m still here.)
I want to write a post on the seder I went to for Pesach, and then another on my trip to Jordan, but I have a feeling that the second one will take a while. So it might just be a bunch of bullet points or something. But I promise…it’ll get here.
