Hot Fun in 5771

I know it's been a while since I've updated this.

I know it's a lot more impersonal listing things, but it's gotta be done...partly to get my memory cogs turning again, and also for your sake (because I know you have more important things to do than read about my epicurean lifestyle abroad)

Monday Nightish

Had Ulpan class...we are learning more "basics" of conversational Hebrew. Here's an example from my textbook.

דוריס: שלום, איך קוראים לך?
איציק: קוראים לי איציק.
איציק: איך קוראים לך?
דוריס: הם קוראים לי דוריס. האם אתה עולה חדש?
איציק: לא אני תייר מברזיל.

.Doris: Hello, what do they call you?

Itzik: They call me Itzik.

Itzik: What do they call you?

Doris: They call me Doris. Are you a new immigrant?

Itzik: No. I am a tourist from Brazil.

...One small step for Itzik and Doris, a giant leap for Aliza Gans.

I have befriended the "Mitz Man" (mitz means juice in hebrew) stationed ten feet from my ulpan classroom, and on mornings when i don't have time to make breakfast, I order a fruity breakfast cocktail from him. Monday it was Pommegranite Orange Mango. Tuesday it was Orange Carrot Ginger. It's only 7 sheckles.

After ulpan I went to hunt for a place to develop photos with Anna. I went home at 6ish and my friends in my apartment were leaving for the beach. We swam and watched sunset over the mediterranean. I swam on my back so i could only see a blackened sea and the constellations and the waves rocked me. Talk about a Wonderdome.

Tuesday

Went to Ulpan, they gave us apples and honey for the holiday. That night we went to a concert at the port, which actually sucked because it was a band that covered American songs in an Israeli accent. But we had french fries afterwards which made up for it. Israelis aren't too keen on ketchup, so they only had little packets of which we used until the wrappers piled 5 inches high.

Wednesday

Woke up late, had that realization that it was 2 hours before I was supposed to take a bus to jerusalem to visit my friends Yoash and Marina for Rosh Hashanah. I frantically stuffed some clothes into my carry-on, turned off the air-con (British/Israeli term for AC) and hid my laptop in the oven. We purposely finished all the food in the fridge before the holidays so I ran to the nearest Aroma with Anna for a much needed cappuccino and delicious egg sandwich (only 12 NIS (sorry I keep on detailing how much things cost...partly because I know my mom is giving me food allowance and I don't want her to think I am blowing it all on bon bons...i am a spend thrift when i need to be).

We searched for the bus stop that would take us to the Central Bus Station only to find that it was right across our apartment. Arriving at the bus station was like being teleported from the Soho to Harlem. It was poorer and dingier. The station was filled with Ethiopian Jews, Vietnamese, Thai, Indian, and all sort of other cultures I didn't know existed in a presumed-to-be white jewish state. I looked for platform 607 which drives directly to jerusalem. The driver said i needed a special ticket, and pointed in the direction of the ticket booth. I followed his finger arrow in circles until i realized i had missed that bus. I found the ticket booth, bought a ticket for 15 NIS (not bad!) and was first in line for the next bus that arrived five minutes later. (It's funny how local transportation is more confusing than international travel). I found a window seat where I could "ooh and ahh" at the plains and groves on the way to Jerusalem. Triumphantly inking into a cushioned seat in a bulletproof bus, I felt I could do anything.

At the Jerusalem station, Yoash picked me up in his overly pineapple-air freshener-scented car and drove me back to his apartment. He was really good at pointing out landmarks and showing me around. Marina had fractured her rib a couple days before, but she still somehow managed to make schnitzel and salad for lunch. I met Lavi who is about a year and two months old. He has four teeth and has very long eyelashes.

We left to go to Marina's grandmother's house. If dinner there was a portrait, it felt like a Chagall. It was so culturally striking yet warm and welcoming. Everyone toasted to each other and laughed. I'm almost glad i didn't understand a word. It probably would have been less charming. Marina's grandmother, Ellie, prepared a three-course meal all out of her crammed, old age home kitchen. I befriended Ron, a five year old russian boy obsessed with cars and spinning tops. I taught him how to spin the top upside down and made a ramp for his race cars to zoom down. I helped myself to salads upon salads, all made with mayo. Gefilte fish pureed and poached in the natural fish. Shuba: a jello mold of cold lox and whitefish with mayo, onions, scallions, and beets. Homemade blintzes filled with mushrooms and chicken. I didn't even eat the main course. For desert we had tea, homemade cream puffs, fruit, and cake. One could say my stomach felt like those russian nesting dolls.

I slept on a futon in the living room. The baby kept on waking up in the middle of the night, so i had trouble staying in one stage of REM.

The next morning Yoash made omlettes and then we left to his family's house in Beer Sheva. His family is sweet and warm and they didn't speak much english so i had a good time watching Israeli toddler dvds in the living room and trying to not look so pathetic. There was another abundance of food...a bit different this time. Fried morroccan cigars, meat bureakas, chicken wings, steaks, skewered chicken livers and hearts, malabi (a rose pudding topped with toasted coconut), chocolate balls, fruit salad. It was enough to cause a bulimic to overflow the septic system.

Yoash's mother and father gave me a honey cake and new calendar to take home. I slept on the car ride back and embarrassingly woke up in a puddle of my own drool. I arrived to a charmingly messy apartment, all to myself for an hour. Olivia came back and we searched for a midnight falafel fruitlessly until we settled for greek yogurt and toast back at the ranch.

And now i'm here. It's a new year. I don't have anyone to go to synagogue with, so I'm introspectively reflecting. Olivia invited her friend to crash for the night here. I think i'll walk to the beach and buy some pasta to make for shabbos.

Here's to 5771...in Jerusalem!