Shalom, a menage trois

I am sitting in my room, the walls are pure white. My suitcases are busting at the zippers, but they stand sentinel, ready to wheel on home. I'm leaving this place in 7 hours. I'm comforted by the fact that Israel will always be here for me to visit, however, it will be impossible to recreate specific moments and revive the feeling of living here. I've gotten over the shock of leaving and ending this chapter several days ago. Now, as I return my phone, my keys, and put one last coat of white paint where photos, postcards, and other memories used to be, the fear has transformed into excitement. I don't know if this is my last post, so I don't want to say goodbye. "Shalom" has three meanings, and I like to think I am experiencing all of them now. I really don't want this to be corny, sappy, and mournful. My entire blog is the true testament to my journey this year.

Goodbye

- Israel

- Kfar, I learned to love your cats, loathe your reeking elevators, and admire your Jerusalem stone charm.

- Town, for your tourists to mock and sometimes identify with, haggling with your taxi drivers, haunting your streets at night for some food and drink, and shlepping beautiful produce from your shuk

- Cafe Kadosh, and your delicious savory french toast

- Mamila Mall

- Afula, and your lulling kibbutz life.

- Egged and Dan busses...I did my best sightseeing and thinking while looking through your windows.

- Tel Aviv, old stomping grounds

- Bezalel, my messy studio, lugging canvases and drawing paper through your labyrinth hallways

- Teachers. I grew so much as an artist thanks to them. Specifically my drawing and pottery teachers. I now know how to express myself differently.

- The dank piano room (dank is used with a negative connotation, but without you, oh piano room, my musical inclinations would have been unrealized)

- Friends with a history of living together for a year.

- My room, festooned with photos, transvestite wrestler figurines, and every flavor of Must gum. Oh...and bless those shades that make the midday dark like 9 PM.

Peace

- to israel

- to everyone i've met, and to everyone I will meet in this next chapter

- to the few readers of this blog

Hello

- family

- bagels and lox

- our swimming pool

- wild raspberries in the backyard

- the grand piano

- netflix

- fireworks

- sleepovers with friends

- hottub

- drumming for the old people

- skim milk

- summer thunderstorms

- Sushi sunday

- driving in cars

- concerts on the green

- Sparky

- the ECA crew

- shakespeare in the park

- grilling

- cape cod

- camping

- my room

- the sound of crickets at night.

Free Cofe and Tee???

I was skimming the internet for things to do this weekend.

hmmm...tiberias, maybe.

There was this Tiberias hostel's website that literally made me laugh out my liver.

wow. its funny. the video is hillarious too.

http://www.tiberiashostel.com/

"If you be a lympho, i'll be a lympho"

If the body is a temple, then mine is the Second temple. Like the Beit HaMigdash, my purity was poisoned by an enemy...a microscopic military desecrated the hallowed hallways of my sanctuary, my veins.

Friday night I hosted 12 people for Shabbat dinner in my apartment. I complained to my friends about this itchy thing on my hand that looked like a popped blood vessel. They reassured me it was only a bug bite as they proceeded to devour my challah. The itching and swelling woke me up late saturday morning. From my inner wrist to my elbow, something was creating a trail through my veins.

The trail of tears.

It was hot and puffy. I calmly got out of bed. It was just me in the apartment so i ate a mango with museli. But my inner voice was pressuring me, "yo...you're eating granola while an unidentified pathogen is trailblazing through your forearm?!" I dressed my best, preparing for the worst: my American Apparel red hoodie and a headband. I made sure i packed my book and took a decent crap before going to the clinic (i wanted to be comfortable...who knows how long i'd be). Keep in mind, it was shabbat, so i had to hail a cab with an arm that looked like it had been crying in the bathroom for two hours. Was it blood poisoning, an alergic reaction, a parasite? The nurse took my temperature and blood pressure. Only Dr. Gazim knew what my prognosis was. He took one look at my arm. "Lymphangitis," he said, his Tom Selleck moustache twitching a little. Then he left.

okay...

He came back with a script, "Take two pills, three times a day for a week."

Then he left for real.

What's Lymphonjitiz? I wondered, What am i swallowing these pills for? Am i going to die at home surrounded by mango peels and museli crumbs with an arm consumed by red rash?

I went to the pharmacy that the receptionist said was open on Shabbat, but when i got there, i found my insurance policy was not supported by the drugstore. I paid out of pocket, took the pills, popped the first dose in my mouth, and said, "Salaam alaycum."

One hour and a 210-sheckel cab fare later, i got home and did some research:

Lymphangitis is an infection of the lymph vessels (channels). It is a common complication of certain bacterial infections.

I then began to read about signs, tests, and treatment. This is where Dr. Gazim fell short:

Signs and tests

The doctor will perform a physical exam, which includes feeling your lymph nodes. The doctor may look for signs of injury around swollen lymph nodes.

A biopsy and culture of the affected area may reveal the cause of the inflammation. Blood cultures may be done to see if the infection has spread to the bloodstream.

(I don't think he even touched me.)

Treatment

Lymphangitis may spread within hours. Treatment should begin promptly.

Treatment may include:

• Antibiotics to treat any underlying infection

• Analgesics to control pain. Nope.

• Anti-inflammatory medications to reduce inflammation and swelling. Nope.

• Warm moist compresses to reduce inflammation and pain. Nope.

Surgery may be needed to drain any abscess. Thank God, Nope.

I was mostly upset I didn't receive warm, moist compresses.

I'm fine. It's late. I finished "Bonnie and Clyde," and i'm going to sleep (until 8 when my alarm will wake me up for my pills...man, does that make me feel like Grandma Joyce). I'm going to the beach tomorrow. Shavuah tov.

Oh...i also did some other cool things this week, like having my work exhibited in our group's gallery showing, going to Jerusalem's Light Festival in the Old City, and making turkey neck soup for shabbat. Maybe i'll talk more about that later. Right now I need to itch my infamous inflammatory infection.

Morning update: My arm's still itchy, but the red line is barely visable. I took the antibiotics and had this trippy dream that I was tripping on antibiotics....kind of like in that boat tunnel scene in Willy Wonka..."there's no knowing where we're going..."

This post will Wow your pants off.

I will post some remarkable things, but mostly unremarkable things.

Remarkable:

Went to a craaaazy concert on Israel's National Student Day. My friends and I stayed up thanks to unlimited, free Coke Zero (wait...does that mean it also has zero caffeine? It must have been placebo then). We saw the sun rise to the rhythmic, resonant rumblings of Balkan Beatbox. (If you replace all the B's in Balkan Beat Box with F's, you almost get a comprehensible set of words. Falkan [I'm thinking more, falcon] Feat Fox. Coolio.) I had no idea who the other bands that performed before were. I rode a mechanical bull. I got home at 8:30 AM. Aren't I cool? staying up late like that?

My achilles is better so I'm back at the gym.

Went to Afula for Shavuot on kibbutz Beit HaShitah with the Ahuvia family. It was quite a retreat. I ate cheesecake two nights in a row. Butter, butter, dairy, butter was the motto of the weekend. Delicious food in the company of a warm family. Berthe and Amir's daughter, son-in-law, and two little grandchildren were also there. Very cute. I wanted to tell them how cute they were. Except they only spoke Danish. So, I faked a little Danish accent and even picked up a few words. "Again" means again. "Yeah" means Yeah. "Tractor" means Tractor. "Angry Birds" means Angry Birds. Amir took us to Israel's national kite-surfing competition on a fishpond nearby. It was EXTREME! Later, I went to a Shavuot harvest ceremony in the field where the kibbutz children sang and performed. Then massive tractors and other agricultural equipment harvested the wheat crop before our very eyes! I left on Thursday morning very rested, my backpack weighed with jars of Berthe's homemade jam and fresh-picked corn from the fields.

Unremarkable:

I think I finished two paintings for our exhibition. The crab one, and the car crash. Those are the titles respectively.

I got kicked out of the Kotel AND the Church of the Holy Sepulcher because my skirt was a centimeter above my knees. Even though I was wearing a modest, long black cardigan, and there were plenty of other people dressed sluttier than I. One woman literally herded me out of the Kotel. She waved a "complimentary modesty shawl" at me like some bullfighter. Is that what you want? You call yourself a Jewess, Bat Yisroel? Fine. I'll go to church. Uh. Not welcomed there either.

I got some things back from the kiln. The intricate designs I painted on my ceramics became washed out after the glaze firing, and some of my pieces are mysteriously "lost". My pots are aesthetically disappointing, but they are functional! I drank a glass of water from one of my cups!

Saw three unremarkably remarkable things today:

- a naked kid running around the botanical gardens while his father was sleeping.

-a dead raven

- the pages of "Cages," by Dave McKean...the most beautiful graphic novel I have ever read.

Starting to think about packing. The thinking is scaring me. Imagine when I actually have to pack! 19 days!

Hey is not just for horses. It's also for other ungulates and for Alizas that want so say "Hello!"

cool things i did:

- i blogged

- went to see the Jerusalem symphony on Mahler's 100th yartzeit

- Got things fired in the kiln

- Painted an explosion

- painted a crab

- made cups

- said happy birthday to my mom and 2 best friends

- ate a fried whole fish after going to the symphony

-Don't you think "Xerox" is actually a cool name for something other than the copy machine? "Yo, Xerox, I told you to use freecreditreport.com to evaluate your credit score!" or "Xerox, play dead."

- What kind of sicko teaches their dog to "play dead"? Why don't you teach your dog something useful like to bag its own shit off the sidewalk instead of having fun "killing" your pet.

- walked a couple hours to town on shabbat and saw some relijios kids sucking hard on popsicles

- Something funky's going on with my Achilles. The tendon feels like the sensation of chewing on the butt of a balloon. So i havent been to the gym in a while.

- went to the zoo and saw two Syrian bears mate

- spontaneously went to coffee with Tuni and ended up walking in on the best coffeehouse concert of my life. here's the band: http://www.myspace.com/kedmaproject

- grilled cheese

- saw mayumena again...this acrobatic Stomp/Cirque De Soiel performance at the MASA final event.

- House drinks for when I become a Bartendress:

"Flaming Nipple": (Baileys + sambuca, flambe) , my take on the "Slippery Nipple".

"th" : I just think it would be funny to have someone order something phonetic that sounded like they were farting out of their mouth...like, 'Can I have a [pause] thhhhhhhhh?' And it would be super strong and super tasty so people will want to order it and couldn't avoid saying it.

"Shirley Goes To Temple": Mannishewitz and Plum Schnapps, aka Slivovitz. Instead of an olive, have a nice piece of herring speared with a cellophane toothpick just like at Congregation Rodeph Shalom.

"Camel Piss": An Israeli exclusive that tourists will order to be exotic, thinking it's just a clever renaming of whisky, or brandy, or any other amber-colored spirits, but it's actually the real deal! Ha! Stupid Americans! Silly Evangelist tourists!

- Met Hannah in Tel Aviv to say goodbye and Happy Greece travels to her. Ate at Dr. Shakshukah and got a pretty dress at the flea market. AND I met my drawing teacher's nephew!

- came up with a list of words I wish existed: graped, shinter, scafillate, 5-dive, blincose, yex, thivish, cordillion and rhyth.

- I asked a cab driver to close the window because I was cold, and asked a barista what was inside a pizza bagel...all in hebrew!

- I ate lox this week!

- I watched "About Schmidt" and wished Jack Nicholson was Jewish, just so I could say it was a Gans Documentary.

- Why is the dollar sign an "S" with a line through it?

gloating over goat feces

Yeahpppo

i'm back in jerusalem after a brief but beautiful stint in the North with my program. I realized I forgot to post about Yom Ha'Zikaron and Yom Ha'atzmaut...Israeli Soldier Remembrance Day and Israel Independence Day respectively. Yom Ha'Zikaron was observed properly. I was on the bus with Naftali when the morning siren went off. The engine was humming, the bus just paused mid-traffic. We were both unaware it was sounding, so we were caught off guard. It was bizarre seeing a whole street of people and cars momentarily stagnant in the mid-morning bustle of Jerusalem. That night our group attended a memorial service on Ammunition Hill. The Masa event was complete with a live orchestra, multimedia effects, and fancy lighting. Quite impressive.

The next day was Yom Ha'Atzmaut. The streets of Jerusalem turned into one big street party. Major intersections were blocked off, and there were live performances in front of Ben Yehuda and the shuk. Teenagers sprayed eachother with silly string and shaving cream. Vendors sold hot corn, kubbe soup, burgers, and falafels with cheap beer and mixed drinks. We saw fireworks shoot up and crackle over the Leonardo Hotel. It was wild and at times overwhelming.

A couple days passed by and I left for the north Thursday morning at 6:30 AM. The bus ride was long, but we stopped at a beautiful overlook, at the northernmost kibbutz in israel. That afternoon, we arrived at our campsite, dropped off our bags, and drove to where we would be hiking. The hike was gorgeous, complete with freshwater springs (my feet got soaked) and a small pool which we spontaneously went swimming in. After our refreshing 6 or 7 km trek, we arrived at the campsite. We began preparing dinner, which tasted like....camping. We made a decent-sized fire and the Rimon musicians played music long into the night. I set up my sleeping bag outside, except the stars were obstructed by rainclouds. I woke at 4 AM to the tickle of drizzle on my face. I moved my sack to the warm fire, and slept until sunrise.

In the morning we ate a campside breakfast, rolled up our tents, and boarded the bus for Tsfat and repelling down a mountain.

We arrived at some nature reserve where the view was incredible and would have been much more extensive if it wasn't so cloudy. As I clipped my harness to the pulley that would lower me down the cliff, I caught a whiff of organic animal detritus, A.K.A Goat shit. No biggie, I thought, the scenery is breathtaking so there would be no need to inhale the sweet stench. I repelled down the mountain slightly clumsily, and the sight of everyone smiling at me from above and below was something i had never experienced before. Even though the actual repelling lasted only a minute or so, I was so glad I didn't wimp out; my heart rate barely increased. As I neared closer to the bottom of the cliff, I noticed the entire bottom was covered in pellets similar to Cocoa pebbles. I braced a blanket of goat crap which came up to my ankles. Apparently, the nature reserve is home to mountain goats, which for some odd reason see the bottom of this cliff as a giant toilet bowl. Maybe it is to spite all the tourists that repel down and land there. As I waited at the bottom of the cliff for my comrades to join me, it began to rain...pour, actually. The instructors quickly packed up their ropes and my friends at the top of the mountain were forced to seek shelter in the bus. Meanwhile, me and seven others were left at the bottom. The only way to the bus was by a 40-minute hike over slippery rocks and....you guessed it, goat shit. As we gathered up the courage to hike, the first rolls of thunder bellowed, and the rain quickly turned the dried feces into a shit slurry. Along the hike, lighting and thunder shook the dense clouds. At points in the hike, the only way to continue on the path was to slide on our butts, and consequently, my pants were completely crap-caked. I had goosebumps not only from the cold rain, but also from the jaw-droppingly beautiful view from the edge of the mountain. At the last stretch of our hike, there was only six inches of ground for footing, and we had to climb by putting our belly towards the mountain and grabbing onto metal cables drilled into the rock as railings. A couple girls were paralyzed by fear. Was this the most miserable moment of my life? No. It was thrilling. I felt pretty close to death, and I could have shit my pants (thankfully, the goats already did that for me!) but I felt a little buddy-buddy with God. I peeled off my dirty, wet clothes on the bus, and sat in the dry warmth of my towel. I felt a little more seasoned than my friends who were slouching in their seats, already dry and comfortable.

We arrived at our hostel in Tsfat in dire need of showers. The skies cleared. After we freshened up, we visited the ancient cemetery where many famous Kabbalists were buried. At the end of the cemetery, an acoustic, middle eastern band gave us a private concert. We watched the sun set over the lush hills of Tsfat. It was stunning.

That night we went to Shabbat services and ate in Ascent...I was so paranoid that I would bump into Justin Beiber girl.

I slept late. Woke up and had a very boring synagogue tour of Tsfat. After Havdallah, we drove to this woman's private art gallery/vineyard. We had a wine tasting, talked about the architecture of the home, gawked at the rows of grapevines and art-lined walls. Je suis sophistique? I think so....

Sunday morning we went to Israel's oldest kibbutz, Deganya, where there is also a chocolate factory. We decorated pralines like pros. Mostly, I gluttonously spooned the melted chocolate into my open mouth. Then we went rafting in the Jordan river. I had already done this before with Bronfman, but it was still GREAT! The water was high because it was spring, and i didn't get hit by the river reeds too much. We had dinner on the grass and then went home. Back to the kfar. I started classes again today. It went fine. I realized how much work I have to do and I realized how unmotivated I am to do it. I have an appointment with a kiln tomorrow. Hopefully I will FINALLY have some finished ceramics to bring home. I'm really tired from typing all this and reliving the North. I made some sweet potato oven fries. okay!

Golden Tales from the Golden City

A great week.

I don't know if it's appropriate to consider Yom HaShoah great, but I think I spent the day appropriately. I woke up at 8 with a group of friends to go to the Old City. We wanted to hear the siren that sounds throughout the country to remember the lives lost in the Holocaust. Everyone at the Kotel stopped praying, stood up and was silent for a number of minutes, until the siren stopped. Immediately then, a bar mitzvah celebration continued. A woman began talking on her cellphone. I guess those talkative israelis don't like to be shushed...even if it's for a memorial moment.

I then went to school with the intention of getting a new Student ID and doing some ceramics work, but the studio was closed. However, I happened to walk into a Hebrew University-wide Yom HaShoah ceremony complete with acoustic guitar and poetry readings. When that was over, I went to the piano room, pecked at the keys for a while, and went to the gym. All they had on the gym TVs were holocaust movies. I happened to choose a treadmill with a screen broadcasting a very interesting documentary called "A Film Unfinished." Granted, most of it was in Yiddish/Hebrew, but I surprisingly understood a lot. The raw WWII footage was so horrifying, it filled me with energy (fear) to keep sprinting.

The next day I went to the beach in Tel Aviv. The weather was perfect. I went bodysurfing twice. At the bus station, I went back to the Lost and Found, latching on to a glimmering hope that my wallet resurfaced. I got so burnt (after applying sunscreen that morning, mom! I must have fallen asleep and hadn't noticed my skin crisping). My lobster appearance caught the attention of a woman working in a TV station. She pulled me aside to ask if I wanted to be in a Cellcom commercial. All I had to do was tell a love story. I told them I wasn't in a romantic mood. And on the way back to the kfar, an official orthodox "little person" asked me to model for him. I told him no thanks, but he pressured me into giving him a (fake) phone number. I told him my name was Ocelia from Sweden.

I just came back from a beautiful 9 km hike across the Judean hills in Jerusalem. It was only four girls from my program and two tour guides...one of them was our tour guide for our slichot expedition in the Old City. The other was an alum of the Amitim Bronfman program. A different year, though. I got even more burnt (I put on sunscreen twice, mom! It must be that expired "Native Tan" sunscreen from the pool shed.) We walked through a beautiful vineyard, saw some scummy springs carved out of the mountains, and our guides made us tea and coffee with this little Bunsen burner. I'm exhausted from the hike, but i made whole wheat pasta for dinner...didn't want to "undo" all of today's intense calorie cremation.

Chofeshions*

It's been a long spring chofesh so far. a lot to write about.

Sunday night I left Jerusalem all in a rut. That day I had visited the Lost and Found at the Jerusalem Bus Station to recover my wallet, but with no avail. The man at Lost and Found sat at his desk, surrounded by piles of lost articles: mounds of sleeping bags, a tree of keys, milk crates bursting with unclaimed purses. He was like the keeper of souls--guarding travelers' lost lives. He was an asshole. He screamed at me when i interrupted his personal phone call to ask him for help. I could have cried.

I left Jerusalem with less than 100 sheckles in my pocket, no ID, and NO RESERVATIONS to go see Hannah in Karmi'el. It was so incredible seeing her...escaping from the kfar dungeon, seeking refuge like a leper to Mama Teresa. She gave me food. Gave me a bed. I was nourished.

Monday, we (me, hannah, and a portion of her program) woke early to leave for haifa. We toured the Ba'hai gardens which were scintillating.

The actual Ba'hai people are pretty chill, they believe mainly in the spiritual unity of mankind. Sounds hunky-dory.

Then we ate lunch in this crumbling concrete park. Scarfed down whole hard boiled eggs and squares of matzah. I really felt like an israelite, trekking through the middle east, my clothes stuffed into my L.L. Bean backpack, trying to swallow shards of bread of affliction.

That night, we slept with the Israeli sister program of Hannah's group. It was really nice. They were making a giant hammer out of paper for a rally. We made mofletta to celebrate the end of passover.

The next morning, I had toast. It felt right.

We departed for Tel Aviv. Went to the shuk, where I bought two more pairs of Israeli boxer briefs and a new wallet: a 20-sheckel tan leather number with "APACHE airforce" branded into it. Hannah and I also split an amazing hummus bowl. We went to the beach briefly with our backpacks until Hannah's cousins picked us up.

Tuesday night, I had my first experience at Cinema City as a VIP guest. The mall itself is a mega modern palace....with glass elevators and lifelike dinosaur sculptures, a giant light-up disco floor that looked like something out of The Sims party pack. In the VIP section of the theatre is a dramatically-lit buffet with unlimited food and alcohol. Granted, the food was not that incredible, but the thought of stuffing yourself until you cant move and plopping on a plush, recliner and watching a movie (in English) is sublime.

The movie sucked. It was by the "Inception" dude and starred Matt Damon. So predictable and so corny. But, I got up twice to refill my popcorn and to get another beer. They handed out little chocolates encased in an envelope that said, "VIP". I felt bad for the peasants who had little foot room and got excited about cup-holders.

The next morning Hannah and I went to the beach. I got terribly burnt. I took a cold shower and we were driven to Hannah's other cousin's house in Holon. We attended a gala to support the 70th Anniversary of the arts in Holon. There were barely enough hours d'erves to keep us amused.

We watched 50 First Dates before falling asleep (after spending an hour hunting a mosquito that was trapped in the room and buzzing in our ears). Late Thursday morning, we visited Hannah's grandmother's grave. It was a beautiful walk...the weather a bit stormy, but the spitting rain excited us.

Then, it was back to Tel Aviv for hannah and Jerusalem for me. I had an incredible trip with my wench, but i was glad to finally remove my heavy backpack from my back and curl up in my orange down quilt.

*title cred: tuni ash

Diyenu, Diarrhea!!

While Jewish families across the world commemorate our journey from slavery to freedom, I have been reliving the journey from bed to toilet...too many times. I've been sick in bed since Sunday, eating little, cursing yet enjoying the dizziness, and feeling too sorry for myself. The last time I left indoors was to go to seder Monday night, narc'd up on the Israeli version of DayQuill. And I briefly went outside to kiss Hannah goodbye at the bus stop.

The chance that I may step out of my apartment and not be near a bathroom has made me agoraphobic. I guess boredom is the worst symptom of this virus. But I've been trying to keep my sloth to a minimum by watching movies ("The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly," "Glen or Glenda", "Memento," "The Ten Commandments," a documentary on the KKK, and "Prince of Egypt") reading "You Shall Know Your Velocity," By Dave Eggers, cleaning my room, chatting with the fam, making soup, planning the rest of my vacation, and drinking tea. I've also been researching Senegal a lot. Isn't it a beautiful name? I want to name my kid that. or maybe my yacht. Seh-neh-gahhllll. It means "our canoe" in Wolof.

Anyways, I've gotten shitloads better and I'm looking forward to going to Tel Aviv/Jaffa with my good ol' buddy, D.H. Matzah hasn't gotten old for me yet, and two tablets (man, the pesach symbolism!) of Tylenol PM should get me feeling fiiiiine.

One Little Kid

Chad Gad Ya...thats how i feel right now. A measly little piece of livestock stranded in this huge field. I must kasher my entire apartment before tomorrow. The task before me is filled with trials and tribulations. I separated everything and put my chametz into garbage bags. I found a website where i can sell my chametz online: https://www.mychabad.org/holidays/passover/sell_chometz.asp?aid=111191&jewish=Sell-Your-Chametz-Online.htm&site=chabad.org

Right now, I will "fully empower and permit Rabbi Yosef Landa to act in my place and stead, and on my behalf to sell all chametz possessed by me, knowingly or unknowingly as defined by the Torah and Rabbinic Law (e.g. chametz, possible chametz, and all kind of chametz mixtures).

Also chametz that tends to harden and adhere to surfaces of pans, pots, or cooking utensils, the utensils themselves, as well as pet food that contain chametz and mixtures thereof."

Who is this Yosef Landa? Why out of all the Chabad rabbis is he the one "empowered" to do this. Maybe he's an ex-baker and has a lot of experience with bread. Maybe he has connections with the "homies" and goishah gangstas to which he can sell my chametz. Maybe he's making the world's largest French Onion soup and needs a lot of yids' croutons. Overall, it seems like a very OCD drug deal (not that i have experience with a good or bad drug deal), or maybe some weird cult initiation, or a field trip permission slip with a liability clause.

Anyways, everyone's hyped about Pesach. I passed a street in Mea Shearim (the religious quarter of jerusalem) and there were giant vats of boiling water for jews to put their pots and pans and other kitchenwares to deem them kosher for passover. Mostly all the restaraunts have switched over to kosher-for-passover, and the aisles of my local supermarket are brimming with passover edibles. It's so easy to do here, but it's hard for this whole process to have meaning without a family to accompany me. But, Hannah will be coming here tomorrow, and I'll be sitting at a seder with a big moroccan family. I am very excited.

Oh....and I got a Flickr... It's a website to post images on so that my non-facebook friends can view my art and such. It's really just a way for me to have an organized, ready-to-go portfolio : http://www.flickr.com/photos/ganzilla/

"So let it be written..."

I am sitting on my couch, waiting for Cecil B. DeMille's 1957 "The Ten Commandments" to load on megavideo. Naftali questioned my motives: "Don't you think you should wait until Pesach to watch it?"

"No," I replied, "I'm pre-gaming".

The Mt. Paramount with it's sunset landscape behind, epic biblio-drama soundtrack booming in the background has gotten me shivering with excitement. This is my favorite springtime tradition. I wish dad was here to set up the surround sound.

Things that have been happening: I've been screen printing more. If you want a Carl Sagan T-Shirt with "We Will One Day Venture to the Stars" printed in yiddish on it...speak now!

I got a ton of pottery bisque fired, so one more firing and i'll be a bit more of a morning person with my CoffeeWorld coffee in a homemade mug.

I rented this FANTASTIC book from the Bezalel library called "Food Design XL". It's incredible and interesting. I think i want to be a food designer when i grow up. (is that now?)

I posted a lot of my artwork on facebook because it takes FOREVER to post art on this blog...Like 1 hour for 5 photos. Not really worth it. Maybe i should get a Flickr or something.

I dreamt about sesame bagels last night.

Happy birthday, Dad! You put the "MAN" in "Shemantra".

I have no idea how i'm going to sell my chametz or kasher my kitchen or make that infamous matzah brittle. But I'm going to do the best i can do. It's what hashem, ha kadosh barchu, would have wanted.

"...So let it be done!"

Chraine is in the air

I was recently bullied into writing this blog post by my pops.

I had one already partially written up as I was trying to watch the live streaming of Auntie Mia's funeral, but someone exxed out of it. It was a really interesting post, too! it combined grand themes such as the fragility of life with small details such as eating Captian Crunch cereal with over-expired yogurt. But because of our terrible internet connection, I ended up missing the "real time" version of the ceremony anyway. I had to watch it two days later downstairs in the Student Village Pub (free, great wifi) where I was forced to question whether I was really crying or whether it was the hookah smoke making my eyes water. If I couldn't have my family with me, at least I had Katy Perry's Autotuned voice and a crowd of wiling Arabs.

I miss my aunt already. She was a real force. I'll never forget that story she told me of her Mike Tyson-look-alike boyfriend getting chased out of her window by Grandma Ingie with a baseball bat, or when she asked my sister and I if we minded her being naked in the hot tub with us.

I did go to a real funeral with flesh-faced people, not pixels, a week-and-a-half ago... Abba's funeral in northern Jerusalem. He was a really great friend. In my bedroom, I have an enlarged photo of me and him dressed in Mariachi wear at Sukkot in Chabad. It was eerie seeing his body simply wrapped in a tallit without a coffin. Maybe it's an Iraqi practice. Nevertheless, it was really comforting to see the Battats and other family friends there. May they both rest in peace.

Besides the past week of Debbie Downers and Solemn Solomons, I had a lot of intensely exhilarating days. Here's a rubdown:

- Gorgeous weather. The botanical garden is in full bloom. My drawing teacher takes us there and we sketch the fiiiine flora and fauna of eretz yisroel.

- Saw a live concert in Tel Aviv...an onstage collaboration of writer, Eshkol Nevo, and pianist, Shlomi Shaban. My two forms of expression combined! It was great!

- Made beautiful things in ceramics. Got an english-speaking friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend to guide me through the ceramics section in the art store.

- Saw "The King's Speech" at a movie theater which lets you have beer and popcorn as you watch (a ridiculously tasty combination). It was the first movie i've seen in israel, and I loved it. Every Israeli movie theater includes an intermission so you can, you know, get up, stretch, take a pish, get a nosh, give your two cents on whether this movie was worth your thirty sheckles, etc.

- made a screen print of Carl Sagan. It was incredible finally printing something that took forever to process. I might actually show up on time next class.

- dropped the worst drawing class ever with a teacher who looks like an ice mummy and makes us draw with transparent grids in front of our faces. In replacement, I took up a painting class with One-Arm. We have a nude male model every week!

- Spent the weekend in Tel Aviv with Naftali, Daniel Ho, and his eccentric Israeli grandmother. Went to the beach three times, freeloaded a lot of great, home cooked food, and watched "Eight Legged Freaks" on T.V.

-Went to a Food Festival in the Old City. It was filled with beautifully-lit carts of steaming hot, fried pastries, great live music, and free samples.

- I just came back from volunteering at a shelter for mentally disabled girls. Today is supposedly some national volunteer day in israel. It was incredible, except for the fact that I had to paint with giant rollers and without tape to make straight lines. They were so nice. They gave me pizza, and a candle they made in the factory they work at.

- I restarted Grapes of Wrath and I passed the halfway mark! Whoopee.

- it's raining.

- Passover is coming. I wish I was with my family, but hey...doesn't everyone say "Next Year in Jerusalem?" Well I'm here, Klal Yisrael, so suck my matzoballzzz, Diasporasswipes.

i'm okay

To all of those who heard about the bombing today in Central Jerusalem

or didn't hear about it (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/middleeast/israel/8402317/Jerusalem-bus-bomb-kills-one-and-injures-30.html) , I'm okay. I was in my apartment eating lunch while it happened, and my roommate told me.

I decided not to go to my afternoon class (didn't want to risk a confrontation with a dynamite explosion and...well, i actually wasn't planning on going to class anyways.) and I followed the news and drawing instead to keep me calm.

what does it mean to be 'wounded'?

30 wounded and one dead

it happened right near the bus station where i was a couple of days ago. I take the busses all the time. Shit gets real, real soon. I'm really fine. nothing a pot of blossoming tea, a plate of chicken curry, and some Curb Your Enthusiasm couldn't solve.

L'Chaim to Justin Beiber!

The following account is 100% true, although embellished at certain points.

I am beaten. I am reduced to a sackcloth rolled in ashes; my sanity torn like the hymen of Hannah Montana. Is life worth it? Will I hear a baby laugh again? or will i only hear the incessant ringing of my Nokia polytone? On the other line is a Justin Beiber fanatic, whispering sweet nothings into the receiver, coaxing me to offer my body as a blood libel to sanctify the Beiber spirit.

I met her at a purim party.

It was just a one-night fling. I don't even know her name.

I was sitting on the women's side, blotting out the name of Haman like, "HAMAN IS SO MEAN. EAT DIRT!" She heard my American accent and immediately assumed I was a fan. She whipped out her mother's cellphone (this is how religious and/or pathetic this girl is: she doesn't have her own mobile device and has to use her mother's to store her Bieber beats on! Oy!) and asked me if I preferred the trance remix or regular version of "Baby" featuring Ludacris.

"I like to stick to the classics. Regulari, bevakashahh," I said in a half-mocking, disinterested tone.

"I love Justin Bieber. I want to marry. I am love Justin Beiber. Ani rotzeh l'fondle ha beitzim shel Justin Bieber. At ohevet? At mekirah et 'Never Say Never'?"

We did three L'Chayims to Justin Beiber. At this point, I was getting a kick out of this. Look at the sorry, greasy seminary girl dressed up as a tiger, trying to win me over through bad American pop culture. HAH

She then swept me over to the computers in the hostel (Oh, did I mention I spent purim in Tsfat at Ascent, this uber-chabad-y center in the old city? more about that later. i need to vent)

She tried to show me that she was actually friends with Justin Bieber on Facebook and when he comes to israel, she has backstage tickets to see him. Wow, girl. You're facebook friends? You know how exclusive that is? I wonder if he'll drop his hot girlfriend, Selena Gomez, for your pimply perfection clad in a pit-stained turtleneck!

She showed me his pictures and had me stare at his "Quotations" section until I felt like a pedophile for stalking a pre-pubescent boy.

I thought maybe she drank a little too much Purim punch and temporarily forgot about social graces, but the next morning as I was sitting out on the veranda of the Tel Aviv Hotel, sipping tea and eating an egg sandwich, I smelled something that was too strong to be egg. And there she was, breathing down my neck, shoving her Imma's cellphone into my face, blasting the latest techno version of "One Time" (by the way, I had to look up the names of all these JB songs to make this blogpost more specific and engaging....I have no idea who this Canadian Boy-Meets-World is).

I told her I have to go. She insisted I give her my number. It was too early in the morning to fake a realistic-sounding israeli phone number, so I typed it in.

She was the reason I didn't stay for the last two hours of the Purim program in the hostel. I checked out early because of her. I ran to the bus station like Lindsay Lohan on parole. Even with a crying baby and a seminary girl noisily eating three bags of chips next to me, the 4-hour bus ride back to Jerusalem was pure Gan Eden.

Twenty-four hours later and she has called me more than twenty times. Thrice before nine in the morning. TWENTY TIMES!!!!!

Let me put this into more quantifiable terms for you:

Imagine 20 warts on your face. That would suck.

If you found 20 bucks on the ground would you be a happy person? I would think so (except this isn't a situation to be happy about...I am just shifting the perspective)

Picture someone pregnant with twenty babies! Now thats a world record!

TWENTY!!!!!!!! (and a handful of voicemails)

If you were shot with 20 bullets, what would be your chances of surviving. Slim, eh?

Twenty Twizzlers shoved up any of your various ventricles. Ouch!

One Holocaust was enough for the Jewish people. Imagine TWENTY!

I'm telling you, I don't know if I can take it anymore. I tried letting her down politely. Making up excuses: you have the wrong number. I'm in class. I'm in america where calling is 5000 NIS a minute from Israel. I am waxing. I am Justin Beiber (I thought maybe she would die of excitement).

"Aleeeeza, I love you. I love Justin Bieber. I miss you soooo much. I can't wait Justin Bieber. I want listen. I want touch. Bieber Fever! Bieber Fever!"

If only my patience was as long as JB's swoopy bangs.

i just had a poppyseed lassi right after 30 min of cardio

it was sooooooo good

march madness

I haven't updated this in a looong while

and for no good reason.

i just didn't feel like it.

a ton has happened since Joe Seigel: a retreat in an eco-dance-village, failed and accomplished class assignments, stuffy nostrils, new friends, extravagant purim costume ideas, a lot of potlucks...it goes on.

I will give you deets about the Vertigo Dance Workshop in Beit Shemesh just because I already had to bullshit a summary for Shoshana and the Dance Company's website. I'm warning you...it's as cheesy as the gay, PeeWee Herman, minstrel rabbi on "Miracle Days" (remember that, Sahg?! Is it still in the attic?) http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/1276646/jewish/Miracle-Days-Purim.htm

Dear Shosho,

Attached is that summary you requested. When do I get my commission?

xo,

Aliza

Early Thursday night, the artists and musicians of the MASA Bezalel-Rimon group greatly anticipated a two-day retreat at the Vertigo Dance Eco-Village in Beit Shemesh. Though our group had very few expectations, we were ready for an eye-opening, creative experience.The smell of a wood-burning stove and cauliflower curry warmed our senses as we prepared for an introductory session of “contact” dance. Our instructors, four expressive, bright-eyed sisters, gave us a foundation in “contact” so we were able to branch off into our own forms of self-expression. The evening soon evolved into a synergy of art, music, and dance that continued long into the night.

After a soothing Tai-Chi class and a delicious breakfast the following morning, we headed outside to mix the right amounts of sand, clay, water, and straw for mud bricks. We artists enjoyed “getting messy” and learning about sustainable living in an eco-conscious setting. With our mud bricks baking in the mid-day sun, the musicians and artists split into separate rooms for our respective workshops. The artists participated in a project involving semaphore flags to spell out a single word that represented each individual. The musicians partook in an improvisation workshop. When the artists and musicians converged in the main studio, we exercised all we had learned over the past two days in a collaborative dialogue of dance, music, and art.

The workshop helped us articulate our own artistic statements within a broader community of artists. We exercised what comes natural to us in a non-conventional way. We were thrust out of our comfort zones, though the discomfort didn’t hinder our creativity; it exposed our humility. From this raw, vulnerable state we grew together. Witnessing this change in ourselves and in each other, we became closer and unafraid.

We became closer and unafraid?! More like we wallowed in each other's BO, and shit in a hole in the ground covered in sawdust.

It was actually nice. Except for the Tai Chi class where I was paired up with a realllllly smelly, old, Israeli geyser.

Other stuff that happened:

The past couple shabboses, I've been baking fantastic challah. I learned how to braid with four, five, and six strands. I went to the schul nearby the Kfar and met Esther, the jewish finalist in America's Next Top Model. She looked...okay. Her lips were a bit too pouty for me.

challot

Shabbos table

Saturday night Klezmer in a basement in Mea Shearim

I had the BEST BREAKFAST (brunch?) at Kadosh, the BEST BREAKFAST (brunch?) place in Jerusalem. We got a basket-ful of rolls and brioches, an omelette with cheesy scalloped potatoes and labane, sunnyside-up eggs on a fried brioche with wilted greens, israeli salad, an assortment of spreads, two hot drinks apiece, and they come with little butter cookies to dip in your coffee. I didn't even feel like stealing sugar packets, I was so satisfied and felt i had gotten my money's worth.

I visited my drawing teacher's studio yesterday. He invited me because he was inviting another girl to come and see a sculpture of his, and he didn't want her to feel as if it was an invitation for rape. It still felt like an invitation for rape, but I was comforted that I had one on him...having two arms to defend myself and all. His studio is awesome. Located right behind the shuk, incredibly messy, and with an extensive music collection. The 8-foot epoxy'ed sculpture of a naked man took up half the space. He's a really coool dood.

Pesach's Studio

"A Still Life with Cellphone"

Pesach showing us the liquor bottle he intends to melt for a glass sculpture

Pesach just cheesin'
The epoxy golem

I got a pretty mucus-y cold this week. I've been stuffed and coughing like a smoker. But i'm over it thanks to Ricola Cranberry Cough Drops.

Purim's coming up, and I just bought tickets for Bezalel's Purim party. It's held at school and I feel a lot of pressure to come up with an outrageous costume. I had originally intended to make a snake headdress for a medusa costume (the purim theme is Monster) but I couldn't find plastic snakes in Jerusalem. I will probably just dress up as Vishnu again just because I'm making henna paste now and I have those crazy paisley Aladdin pants. (I'm REALLY SAD IM MISSING THE PHAGWA PARADE IN QUEENS, BY THE WAY!) If I'm really pressed for time I'm gonna just put purim on my nipples (pur means dice in persian), and a hamentaschen on my pubic area. Or get a false beard and dress as a rapist. Or my drawing teacher!

Hi Mom!

Look what's happening in Jerusalem! Are you gonna bring me back home?

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/3386430/Holy-smoke-UFO-in-Jerusalem.html

What's also happening in Jerusalem:

Yesterday I had pottery class. I was surprised I remembered how to throw a pot. My new teacher is fierce. She is first cousins with Joe Seigel. "He was so famous. He also lived in Coh-nik-tee-coht. (awkward pause) He died."

I then had screen printing, which would have been informative if I had understood a word of it. I amused myself by flicking the screens which were stretched tight enough to sound like drums.

That night we had a potluck. I made some tofu lettuce wraps a la P.F. Chang's. I learned how to make sushi like an asian from the Asian on the program (If you're making hand rolls, the key is to put a little pat of rice on the end of the nori to seal it.)

Today I had typography which was also intimidatingly in Hebrew and with second-year students, but the teacher was sympathetic and the students were soooooo nice to me. I think i'm gonna have to learn how to use photoshop.

Brain K'fart

Back in the swing of thangs.

I'm extremely tired and stressed for no reason. Is it jet-lag? Is it residual laziness from vacation? Is it laziness as an inherent characteristic? Too many Lemon Zest Luna Bars?

But his Roasted Brown Rice Green Tea from the Fish Market in New Haven is bumping my day from Good to GOD.

Upon entering the Kfar for the first time in a month, I was in some little La La land...it was as if the past three weeks I spent at home was a fleeting daydream (were a fleeting daydream? three weeks is plural...so it would be were. but i'm referring to them as a singular subject...so, WAS? damn. this lack of formal education is corroding my brain)

Anyways.

I came home to the warm faces of my old and new roomies. They looked the same, except for the new ones i had never seen before.

Thats a crazy thought. If I dyed my hair salmon and hole-punched my eyelids and put pennies through them, then the new people would just always know me as Aliza-The-Girl-With-Penny-Eyes (sounds like a Beatles song). They'd have no other point of reference. I'll chew on that for a while.

My room was just like I had left it. Which is a good and bad thing. GOOD because I left the door unlocked since Shosho told me that a girl from Rimon was going to stay there for the break. Nothing was stolen (not even my assorted sugar-free gum collection). BAD because the half-drunken mug of tea I had abandoned had accumulated a 2.5-inch coating of mold.

Shabbat was really nice. All the stranded and downtrodden came and had a potluck with us, except I made wontons filled with meat, so a pot-unluck (HA!) for the vegetarians. I forgot how much I missed the shuk on machane yehudah. Really groovin on the new Asian mart right on Agripass St.

My spine cries for my memory foam mattress at home, and I miss the family a lot. But I have new imported pillowcases and blankets from that smell like Downy, and those great fluffy towels from Grandma's linen closet. And Sparky has deposited his DNA all over my black clothing (I mean his fur, not his sperm, you sicko).

I got my report card today and put the final touches on my schedule for 2nd semester. So far it looks like this:

Sunday: The History of Spiritual Consciousness with Reb Kegger (Rabbi Kagan)

Monday AM: Pottery with Jaqi

Monday PM: Screen printing

Tuesday AM: Typography (I'm excited about this one)

Wednesday AM: Painting with Talia

Thursday AM: Intro to Sculpture

Thursday PM: Drawing with Mr. One-Arm

Friday-Sat: Aliza G-s rested, and saw that it was goooooood.

I only got grades for 3 classes. 90s in Painting and Drawing and a 95 in One-Arm's class (I gotta stop calling him that. Ahemmm...Pesach's class.)

Overall, I'm very happy considering I've never been to a formal art class before and this is the best in the country! Although in Photography class where we had to grade ourselves, I gave myself a 67.9001359. Thats a whole other story.

Flying Back El-Al

2/17/11

I woke to ghosts:

men draped in white, swaying

in the aisle, thumbing through prayers.

I am returning (leaving?)

Last month my parents rushed to fill

a nest that was rapidly unweaving.

When I arrived, we desperately clung

to the frame.

Home became a verb

whose infinitive I almost

forgot the meaning of.

I burnt the bottom of an uncooked challah,

misplaced new dishes in old cupboards.

Tried to reclaim

what had grown without me.

I embraced Woodbridge winter:

driving past cemeteries

with tombstones peeking through

snow like a teething earth.

Frigid air perfumed with burning wood.

Now, sitting on a wing

gliding at 35000 feet,

I am ready to re-own a place:

The dumpster cat

with eyes as black as Turkish coffee mud,

slices of kugel served at klezmer,

the Slow Saturdays.

The ghosts have removed

their sheets and now fold

them to fit into velvet bags.

We sip water

pre-packaged like applesauce--

a reminder of how this far up

we are self-sustained.

Orthodox Jews are Hipsters

Today our ceramics class presented final projects. I was a little concerned because half of my "Family of Cylinders" was still baking away in the kiln, and the remainder of my stuff was unglazed...some of it not even fired for the first time. The reason for this is that a) I'm American, so I don't understand when the israeli potters blab about "bisque" and "angobi" and "chomer" and all that hebrew clay jargon. b) I am not in the ceramics department. I am in fine arts, so i don't spend every breathing minute in the pottery studio. c) glaze is expensive and I don't want to buy dozens of colors by myself. and d) I like throwing pots on the wheel a lot more than spending hours meticulously painting designs on a piece of clay.

So this morning, despite the fact that the world was working against me, I was confident. This class is a learning experience. I don't need pots and mugs to take away, I now have a skill. My other classmates, on the other hand, were freaking out. I think 4 girls were on the verge of tears. One girl was so finicky with her fishing line, trying to create the illusion that her pots were suspended in mid-air. People brought tablecloths to place their work on, and you could hear them trembling as the teacher walked over to their station. This is their lives. Their cares reduced (raised?) to mud.

I guess it's years of army training that does that to you. Anyways, some stuff my instructor said about my work:

- you have improved. your cylinders have grown very tall.

- you approach the clay with grace. you accept what the clay gives you.

- your handles combine ceramics with elements of abstract sculpture.

- you have a steady painting hand. Your designs are like MC Escher.

- you are positive, you don't take everything too seriously. You work confidently and i can tell you enjoy the process.

not bad considering i thought my unglazed collection was shit. maybe she was bullshitting me to be nice, and she'll give me a really bad final grade.

On a more important note, I realized that Orthodox Jews are hipsters.

They are incredibly obscure and exclusive.

Hipsters consider themselves "above others" and elite...we, too are the chosen people.

Rattails= peyis

in Mea Shearim, the big, thick-rimmed glasses are quite a trend, as with indie, underground, hipsterculture.

both are greasy and unshaven.

act incredibly White.

Both are uninformed in mainstream culture and prefer to sit in their hipster dens/shteibles contemplating the esoteric, the etherial, the transcendental: God/Animal Collective.

both maintain higher standards of eating: kashrut/veganism.

This article's funny: http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/people/columns/intelligencer/n_9756/