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.