London

LONDON

March 14, 2013-March 17, 2013

Thursday: 

Arrangements were made for work, dog, and child so there we sat at Ben Gurion Airport full of anticipation waiting to board British Airways.  Our bags were packed for a quick European getaway;  sunglasses replaced with an umbrella and the sweatshirts and winter jackets ready for one last debut.  The occasion?  Gil's 40th birthday.  Embarking on our 3rd month together, we decided to take the plunge and test our ability to spend nearly 4 full days together out of our typical environment.  I was ready to push our limits and leave our comfort zone.  I truly had no idea how compatible we'd be as travel companions.  Would we want to kill each other?  Would we see each other loose our composure?  Would we argue about decision making?  Would it bring us closer together?  I wasn't sure how we'd survive four full days together without a routine and no real itinerary (except our tickets to Jersey Boys and my surprise birthday dinner reservation).  Time to roll the dice.  

Our first challenge came minutes after landing.  We were all proud that we had managed to successfully land, retrieve our bags, and navigate the train to the Central Park Hotel.  Adjusting to the oh-so familiar winter climate we schlepped our way to the hotel.  Relieved to finally arrive, we pulled out our reservation and attempted to check-in to the beautiful and centrally-located hotel.  Confusion filled the clerk's face as he scanned our reservation and checked the computer.  Shit.  We failed to double-check the address.  There were two Central Park Hotels in London.  "You've got to be kidding me!"  Big ooops.  We were left with no choice but to take a taxi across town to our Central Park Hotel around midnight (2am Israel time).  Luckily it was no one's fault just an oversight on both of our parts.  Lesson learned.  We looked at each other distraught during the 20-minute taxi ride as we ventured further and further away from the center of London.  Not to mention I was completely disoriented over the driving dyslexia I was experiencing for the first time.  Where was the traffic coming from?  Thank you England for printing "look left" and "look right" at each crosswalk.  

Apprehensive to exit the taxi in this dark, quiet, residential neighborhood we checked ourselves into the correct hotel.  The clerk greeted us and walked us across the street to the annexed portion of the "hotel."  The room was fine; renovated and large.  Exhausted, we collapsed in our room scared that we made a huge mistake booking this hotel.  Still unsure of our proximity to London, we contemplated tomorrow's exit strategy over the snores of our neighbor.  Gil wanted to rebook something in the center of town while I suggested calling the Israeli agency for an upgrade.                        

Friday: 

After a few hours of sleep we learned that, in fact, we were only a few train stops away from the center of town.  With Gil waking up 40-years-old in London, we were determined to make it a great day.  Screw the paper-thin, overpriced hotel and off we went with our Oyster cards (i.e. train cards) to explore London.  We took the clerk's advice and exited the train at King's Cross but soon realized that is more of a business district.  After consulting with a few locals and maps, we continued down the Piccadilly line to the Soho and Covent Garden region of London.  We wandered upon Le pain Quotidien, an adorable french cafe that became our regular morning breakfast stop.  There are few things I find more liberating than having hours to walk aimlessly in a vibrant new town.  And I was looking forward to an evening full of surprise and entertainment in celebration of my hunny's big day.  We occasionally popped into a pub or cafe to seek shelter from the cold and warm up with a drink.  After picking up our theater tickets and soaking up the vibes of the Covent Market and Soho, we returned to rest up and change to our "smart" outfits.  I was a bit stressed over the solo navigation mission of getting us to our surprise dinner reservation on time.  I refused to spoil the surprise and tell Gil that we would be dining at his one of his idol's famous restaurants.  We arrived  at chef Gordon Ramsay's Savoy Grill just in time for our reservation and to see the shock and disbelief on Gil's face.  After suffering through hours of Master Chef and Kitchen Nightmares against my will, I soon understood why the guy has multiple restaurants and reality shows allowing him to mold young chefs and make-over failing restaurants.  The service, decor, and menu were exquisite and we enjoyed being pampered like a king and queen.  After a successful solo navigation, I put the former Captain in the Israeli army in charge of getting us to the theater on time.  With umbrella in hand and high heels the two of us ran into the theater to be escorted to our seats 10 minutes into the show.  After enjoying the story of the The Four Seasons and jamming out to their familiar songs we took the train back and passed out.  I'm pretty sure an unforgettable, fun-filled day in London remedied any anxieties of turning 40.

Saturday:

Now feeling quite competent riding the train and finding our way around London, we headed out to our favorite french breakfast cafe in Covent Garden.  With the whole day ahead of us there was no way the cold and rain would keep us in.  Thanks to free wi-fi and our tablets it was decided...off to the Tower of London we would go.  I remembered reading about this place with one of my students and it was just a hop, skip, and a jump away thanks to the sophisticated underground train system.  Undergoing many transformations over the years, The Tower of London was once the fortress of the British nobility, prison, and public killing ground.  Now basically a museum for tourists, we joined the thousands of daily visitors to learn about the history of England (most of which Gil already knew).  I never imagined that I would one day be standing in front of the London Bridge of the famous nursery rhyme, "London Bridge is Falling Down" yet there I stood. 

Too chilled to take the walking Jack the Ripper tour, we decided instead to go for out for Indian food.  Being in London reminded me of how much I miss the diverse ethnic restaurants back home.  The food in Israel is fresh and tasty; however, it's almost impossible to find excellent ethnic restaurants.  Bellies filled with chai and curry, we headed back to the center of town to experience London on a Saturday night.  Wow.  The rain and cold didn't hold anyone back.  The streets were packed with party-goers young and old ready to drink and dance the night away.  Feeling spontaneous, we decided to pop into a Chinese massage parlor for a half hour session before boogying down at a nightclub.  After good food, some history, massages, and dancing we decided to call it a night despite the electricity in the air.       

          

Sunday:

Our last full day in the diverse and vibrant city of London was bittersweet.  We were thrilled to be able to maximize the day before our night flight but were not ready to leave.  We splurged for the third and last cafe breakfast and agreed to head over to the Camden district to explore and have a St. Patrick's day drink.  There we walked around the markets mistakingly trying the street food and toasting to an incredible (but not long enough) trip.  After weaving our way in and out of the markets, we jumped over for a quick visit to the Big Ben clock tower before beginning our departure.

             

       

                                                           

We left London with British accents, energized from the weekend events, and dreading the crash landing back to reality.   After a red-eye flight back home, I somehow dragged myself to work and left my exhausted birthday boy in bed.  It's hard to believe that was only last week.  If turning 40 is inevitable, I highly recommend celebrating in London.    

I guess the fact that I haven't posted since September is indicative of how full my life has become here in the Holyland.  So much happens each day and as I sit here playing hookie from work, I finally have a moment to catch up.

Back in September when I returned from a month visit in Chicago, I instinctually knew that in order to sustain myself long-term in this country I needed to re-arrange a few pieces of the puzzle.  Since my status as a school psychologist was demoted down to an intern level and with salaries in the public sector being as depressed as they are, I knew I needed to supplement my income.  Before I had a chance to put much effort into it, a fellow ex-pat (Jamie), began to forward me her overflow of private English students.  Within a month's time, I saw that private English tutoring was a viable way to stay afloat.  However, since most of my students are school-aged and the prime tutoring hours are from 3-6pm, I found myself spending way too much time on the bus running around to all of my lessons.

I found myself busier than ever with the addition of a handful of private students and my own Hebrew lessons twice a week.  Still maintaining my caseload as a psychologist at three schools, practicing yoga, and dating- I quickly became fatigued.  Not to mention the brief security crisis in Israel involving rockets from Gaza being launched throughout the country (including the Tel Aviv area).  This is a blog entry of its own.  

Analyzing time and money factors brought me to the realization that the only way to maintain my schedule would be to buy a car.  So yeah....cars in Israel are taxed at 100% and are outrageously expensive.  The gas to fuel them, also ridiculous.  I spent a few weeks discussing whether I really wanted the responsibility of car ownership in this country, searching for second hand vehicles, making phone calls, and taking test rides.  Simultaneously, I was running around the country like a chicken with my head cut off transfering my foreign driver's license.  Not like the good ol' DMV where everything is under one roof, Israel decides to make it a 9 step process.  Yes 9 steps.  Including an eye exam at one location, a visit to the doctor, a stamp on a piece of paper at another location, 2 visits to the post office, driving lessons, and a 10- minute rode test at yet another location.  After all was said and done, I finally found Georgia, my 2001 Diahtsu Sirion, and it was an instant love connection.  The previous owner and I wrapped up the deal and set up insurance and the paperwork in 2 days.  

That was at the beginning of December and I haven't looked back.  I cannot describe the appreciation I feel each day knowing that all I needed to do is ride an elevator down 3 stories and there she is waiting for me in my parking spot.  Since then, I freed up a significant amount of time and energy that was being consumed by Israel's public transportation system.  I managed to earn recognition as a basic psychologist (step one of a multiple step process) and meet a special someone.  This topic will be continued......

 

Happy New year-Living on the edge

The Jewish New Year has approached and I find myself living on the edge.  I say this: 1. because our landlord thinks we're vacating at the end of the month (14 days) 2.  because I have yet to find a new apartment 3.  because in 5 months I will have to notify my school district in America of my intentions to return and 4.  due to the status of my professional credentials and low salaries for psychologists in the public sector, life in Israel is anything but stable. 

Before moving to Israel, I decided to leave a life of "stability."  By the age of 30 I was a certified school psychologist and homeowner.  I had left one school district after achieving tenure and moved to my local school district where the salary and commute were more favorable.  I had a retirement fund, pension, and life insurance policy.  And so it went for the next five years.  Each year, without any of my own effort, my salary increased.  My health insurance policy was superb allowing me monthly visits to the chiropractor and massage therapist.  Stability+predictability+security at the time meant stagnation, monotony and boredom to me.  Yet I had achieved the "American Dream" didn't I?  So why was I so restless to abandon the lifestyle I had worked so hard to build?   

After recently deciding to take the plunge and go through the Israeli immigration process, I am now part of a universal health coverage system that I still don't totally understand.  I have something called a Karen Hishtalmut, (some type of retirement investment plan that I still don't fully comprehend), am part of the pension system (I think), and have some sort of insurance plan called Harel.  For all I know my life here may be stable after all, considering I'll never go broke/go into debt because of college tuition or medical bills.  I don't think the Ministry of Education will fire me because of budget cuts.  In the meantime, I wake up each day acutely aware of the uncertainty of my life.  When looking at Maslow's hierarchy of needs, I find myself working to regain my security of resources for the first time in many years.  But really?  Not knowing where I'll be sleeping in just 14 short days is a little out of my comfort zone.   

I supposed we aren't always aware of it but there is always a level of uncertainty that creeps around the corner of life.  Even when we think we can calculate the risk our relationships, health, marriages, jobs, and finances carry- a powerful force (the universe, g-d, mother earth etc.) can decide to change the direction at any moment.  So just 1 year after abandoning life in America, here I am living in Israel contemplating whether I can afford to live in a 30 square meter 1-bedroom apartment by myself in the center of the country. 

I often remind myself that I made the conscious decision to sacrifice monthly manicures/pedicures, massages, shopping for material items in order to have this middle eastern adventure.  I'm totally ok with that.  Though I still hate it, I've accepted street cats and cockroaches in place of squirrels and bunnies.  I traded in my Toyota Matrix for a monthly bus pass.  This makes perfect sense because of outrageous gas prices and limited parking.  I squeegee up the floor after I shower instead of pull the plug in the bathtub.  I take a number, wait to be called, and pay money to argue in Hebrew with bank tellers convincing them to perform easy transactions.  Goodbye drive through free banking; there are no promotional freebies, coffee, and donuts welcoming me at Bank Hapoalim.  Instead, there are pages of foreign jargon to sign over and over wasting trees and printer ink.  So long Trader Joes.  I will no longer be driving my car into your parking lot and loading up on groceries and loading out at my front door.  Instead, I walk downstairs to the neighborhood fruit stands and grocery stores and fill my eco-friendly bags up with fresh, local produce.  When feeling ambitious, I take the bus to the open market with my baggies or rent a car to drive to a neighboring town for American style purchasing.  I have to admit; however, that I am a bit surprised how close to the edge I am actually living and I'm not quite sure about how I like this cocktail of anxiety, excitement, acceptance, and curiosity.

My entire surroundings have changed and will continue to change as I enter this New Year.  Today marks the Jewish New Year and I smile and laugh at the irony.  It's true, I have no idea where I'll physically be living in 14 days.  I intentionally cut myself free of the years rooted in stability and ask myself how it feels living on the edge.  It's scary and exciting to see what g-d has in store for this New Year.     

























  

Indentity Crisis

From 6,000 miles away I thought stepping back into the American life I put on "pause" would feel strange and foreign; like trying on a pair of jeans that no longer fit.  But after a week of: speaking English, American customer service, reunions with all the amazing people I'm blessed to call friends, driving my car, the US dollar, bathing in a bathtub, 110 voltage etc. I am appreciating the realization of how comfortable life was for me in Chicago.  It's surprising how in the 11 months I've been living in Israel, I honestly managed to forget how much can be accomplished in an American day.  That's probably why we are able to finish university, get our first jobs, buy homes and build families at such an early age.

There is a reason why people call this the "Land of Opportunity."  For someone with intelligence, determination, and education there are no limits to what can be achieved here.  Though now I see that there is a price that is paid.  It is an "easy come-easy go" model seen the minute the economy crashed and people were jobless and upside down on their homes.

America's corporate consumerist beast lures us in and encourages us to exercise our purchasing power until we wake up one day and find that we are working like hamsters just to maintain large lifestyles.  And because this standard of achievement is what we are born and bred for, we work relentlessly to acquire our large homes filled with our large furniture and appliances.  We, of course, need to drive our large cars and take large vacations and fill our large bellies and pay our large medical expenses and college tuition bills.  Our autonomous and independent existences provide us wings to fly through the red, white & blue American skies while across the ocean in Israel people are serving their country, competing for selective positions in the universities and job market, and living with parents and roommates in order to cover the expenses of a modest lifestyle.

So back to the million dollar question I ask myself and the many other Westerners who chose to go through the optional Israeli immigration process: "why?"  Why leave a healthy salary, home and car ownership, artificially deflated gas prices and the purchasing power of the US dollar?  Why choose to ride the bus, share an apartment, make minimum wage, struggle to communicate, argue for reasonable treatment and conditions?  It all sounds quite masochistic, indeed.   

I guess I will spend the next year developing my final answer.  For now....I'd have to say it is because there is something meaningful about living in the land of my ancestors where national holidays overlap with the history of the Jewish people.  There is something I'll call "exotic" about learning to speak an ancient language.  Somehow the changes I've made have simplified my lifestyle so that it is smaller and more manageable.  This feeling is liberating.  Detaching from my materialism has increased my appreciation for the smaller things in life.  I can now find happiness in smaller things.  It is a challenge and a growing experience to move away from living on auto-pilot and learning to survive in a foreign culture.  While living in Israel is similar to living with one large dysfunctional family, it feels like people are all in the same boat and will take the time to listen, care, and help out *

* disclaimer that statement only applies on a social level not when it comes to business, landlords, bureaucracy etc.

Being Buddha

Three of the six Sharkans are in Israel for the first time in twelve years preparing for my sister's wedding.  Friends and relatives will soon be here to help celebrate their union and work obligations seem secondary to all of the month's festivities.  My loyal puppy will be going under for a biopsy of her ears tomorrow and the six-month old leak that was repaired by two different repairmen after hours of arguing decided to sprout it's ugly head again.  I have my immigration meeting scheduled and am petitioning to the state of Israel for professional recognition.  And to top things off, I forced myself to walk away from a potentially amazing opportunity which brought me great sadness.    

It's times like these when I miss my weekly silent meditations.  I still practice Yoga which provides a quick fix, but doesn't quite offer the lasting effects of a 45-minute neurological re-balancing.  I'm just a baby Buddha striving to practice principals of acceptance, non-judgement, and compassion but without my weekly practice I'm like a carpenter without a hammer.  Where are my tools when I need them?  "Be present" "let go of attachments" "take the middle road" "return to the breath"  "observe without reaction."  External forces such as: societal norms, scheduling obligations, expectations and moods of others interfere with my ability to hear my baby Buddha's voice.  I loose my compass.  As if the external forces aren't enough, being Buddha means checking the internal Ego and primal desires that have a mind of their own.  What's a girl to do?   

Oh right, breathe and strap on my tool belt.   
   








    

Home is where the heart is

Standing at the horizon of month 9, I'm afraid to say that life in the Holyland is starting to feel more like home.  Is it true that "home is where the heart is?"  Since childhood I've never been one to get homesick;  I loved having sleepovers and sleep away camp.  I embrace adventure.  And though I miss the ease, conveniences, and people back in America I am not homesick.  In fact, I am a bit worried about going back in August and being confused about where home is.  My house, job, car, family, friends all exist for me back in Chicago.  Is that home?  Is Israel?  I'm not sure.  I'm definitely still considered somewhat of an outsider here but I'm also not living my Chicago routine anymore.  

Luckily I've been blessed to have a handful of great friends by my side to ease the culture shock of immigrating to a new country.  Soon enough I will hold Israeli citizenship and join the many ex-pats who likely asked themselves similar questions of Identity.  Truthfully, becoming Israeli scared me a lot more until I watched friends go through the process and realized that as a Jew, it is a fortunate opportunity.  I am not the sort of Zionist that believes all Jews should return to live in this country because surviving here can require finding internal resources that is just not for everyone.  As I recently explained to a newly immigrated and crying 15- year old British student and her mother:  "Sometimes Israel kicks your ass.  Once a week I wear my Wonder Woman t-shirt to remind me that I can take the beating.  I can prevail.  I chose to be here and I will stay until I decide it's time to leave."  That earned me a chuckle.

Each of us has our immigration story.  Depending on a myriad of factors such as: financial standing, language skills, social network, and employment there is a huge range of assimilation success.  And in the process of assimilating some can get swept away by the emotional turbulence that accompanies us all.  It's hard and most will admit that, I think.  At the end of the day, I think it will all be worth it if I can look back and say "I learned the language.  I like my job.  I have good friends/family.  Mentally and physically I feel healthy and strong.  I have all that I need."  Wherever I am geographically when I reach this point, I think I 'll be home.  I guess the cliche is true.  Home IS where the heart is.              



       

Israel ranks 14th on Happiness Report

Disclaimer: What can I say?  I happen to seriously be blessed with smart, interesting, creative, cultured, and talented friends both here and in Chicago (y'all know who you are) so its possible that the following ramblings are colored in some way by this fact. 


Happiness.  One of the most important emotional states.  Some strive to achieve this through pursuing specific career paths, acquiring large bank accounts, procreating, socializing, giving and receiving love, feeding their sensory systems with food, sex, drugs, music, art, dancing etc.  

In America, where most would agree anything is possible, things were fine for me.  Status quo.  While I do agree that America is the "land of opportunity" I'm not sure I would agree that the streets are "paved in gold."  Life is unquestionably much easier for me in the US than it is for me in Israel and yet I am signing up for another year and citizenship in this country.  So I have to ask myself "why is that?"  Does it have something to do with my pursuit of Happiness?  I publicly complain a lot about the inconveniences I encounter living here, so what exactly do I see contributing to Happiness in Israel?  

First of all, the value system here in Israel seems like it is based more on close family ties.  By "close" I mean in proximity since the country is small and children stay in their parents' modest-sized home until later in life.  I also happen to see many grandparents caring for their young grandchildren and continuing to spoil them well into their young adulthood.  Because of financial stress, there also seems to be an multi- generational reliance on family members to help provide necessities.  For example, on our apartment lease, the first information requested is "parents' address and phone number."  Later, I was explained that often it is the parents who co-sign on apartment leases.  Due to its shear size and the options for University and jobs in America, children begin to leave the nest much earlier.  Once settled with their own families, they may only return on an annual basis.      

Then there is the sense of pride and ideology here.  Many people chose to come to this country for ideological reasons, which automatically instills a higher purpose into one's daily existence.  As long as the ideology remains strong, this forces a person to be connected to the country in personal way.  Because the country itself is so young, many of its live citizens still have a sense of pioneering the land giving them a sort of parental pride.  Others come here escaping hardship looking for opportunity and in comparison to their homelands, Israel offers them more stability. 

The next point becomes more obvious after having crossed two of Israel's borders (Jordan and Egypt).  This tiny little country is indeed surrounded on all sides by enemies which promotes a tribal society.  Within a tribe, individual needs are secondary to the survival of the tribe.  The Middle East has a long-standing tribal history.  The remains still exist all over the country where fortresses were strategically placed to protect communities from their enemies.  The country of Israel has become a fortress for Jews (and non-Jews) all over the world searching for safety and survival.  People are escaping religious discrimination and persecution, violent governmental regimes, poverty etc.  With the military presence everywhere you turn, Israeli citizens know their fortress is being protected.  Living in this tribe somehow requires citizens to sacrifice some of their individual needs for the survival of the country.  In turn, Israelis depend on one another more. 

The privileges that come more easily with an American passport can be achieved here but are reached with a deeper level of appreciation.  Case in point.  Devorah and I rented a car this weekend and (among other trips) had a therapeutic release by Target-style shopping.  How many times did I take for granted simply jumping in my car for a Target run to load up and pull up to my door to unload the cargo?  It's second nature.  I never even thought twice.  Not this time.  With every step through the aisles our eyes were in awe of all the options and reduced prices.  And the fun didn't stop.  There would be no schlepping on a bus or walking.  Door-to-door service.  AHHHHHHH.  The ease a rental car gave us in buying just some basic necessities for the house.  Including...  du da du.  Drum roll please......A fold up, plastic 6-person diningroom table.  Our charming sunroom has instantly been transformed into a dininghall.  And only the two of us can understand how this may somehow contribute to our staying in our war-torn apartment.  Happiness and Appreciation experienced with something I'd consider quite ordinary in America.

Privilege and Appreciation.  I guess my parents knew what they were doing when they worked hard and saved to move to the suburbs in order to give their children the privilege of better schools.  Do any of the students/parents in my previous District 112 think it is a privilege to have a Smart Board in every classroom?  To have personal laptops?  For the class sizes to be under 30?  To be able to join after-school activities?  For their teachers to answer parent phone calls and emails?  My guess is an emphatic "no."  At one of my schools, there is no computer lab.  And the students who are given the "privilege" to log on to the one open computer during a free period will likely have to share with other students.  Are they more appreciative of the opportunity to log on?  I have to say, I think so.  When things in life are taken for granted and you run on automatic pilot it hard to be appreciative.  Though I do not think I can endure some of my Israeli challenges long-term, the temporary sacrifices are 100% making me more appreciative.  I can only speak about my personal experience and therefore I cannot generalize, but for me the work environment is a lot less toxic.  There are challenges and pressures but overall there is much more solidarity and less division among professionals.  I am appreciate of this though saddened by the insulting salaries.    

Finally, I think the Mediterranean climate, diet, and lifestyle contribute to Israeli Happiness.  Taking a simple evening stroll along the sea, eating healthy fresh food, and absorbing lots of vitamin D all year round helps buffer the daily hardships.  Of course experiencing this with close family and friends helps once again to promote Happiness.  So some of what I see as contributing to Israel's somewhat impressive Happiness ranking (considering its economic and political reality): close social ties, ideology, pride, patriotism, tribal survival, deeper appreciation.