The Shimmer and Awe of Israel

The thing about aliyah is that a lot of people move to Israel and spend the first few weeks or months or even years marveling at the awesomeness that is Israel. For those who show up and move to Tel Aviv or another very "American" city (I describe Tel Aviv as Miami with Hebrew), perhaps the shimmer of awe isn't so bright, but for those who move to Jerusalem or other holy cities or superbly historic locales where tour groups in matching hats tend to outnumber actual citizens, there's a sense of wonder, I think.

Old meets new in Jerusalem with the light rail (the smoothest ride ever) and the historic buildings set up by old-world bajillionaires and formerly occupying governments like the British. You can hop off the rail and shop at GAP, Crocs, and other major brands at the Mamila Mall, whose secret is that when the Temple is rebuilt, the shops will become the locale for purchasing your sacrifices. One day you're buying a shirt bedecked with Swarovski crystals, the next you're picking up a few goats and some fruit for your sin offering!

Going to the shuk aka Machane Yehuda aka the giant outdoor market with tiny alleyways and a bustle of movement and smells of fish and cracked-open pomegranate and spices feels quintessentially Middle Eastern. I'll admit that every time I step into the shuk, there's a feeling of moving out of a space I've known -- the fluorescent lights of a midwestern grocery store to the screams of men behind piles of bananas and avocados and melons trying to lure customers in. At the same time, the shuk is filled with modern amenities like Aroma coffee shop where you can get your fanciest of coffee beverages or Re:Bar the new froyo/smoothie chain with every fruit and vegetable combo tossed with your own shot of wheatgrass if you prefer (not for the gluten-free folks).

The variety of people, too, seem to paint the best picture of old-meets-new, east-meets-west. The men, in particular, seem to offer the stark contrast of ideologies and observances the best, with men in black-and-white seen as the old world, modesty at it's utmost and modern Israelis in blue jeans and button downs or T-shirts of brands that are too expensive in Israel. A mix of Ethiopians and Filipinos (often seen pushing the elderly), speakers of Yiddish and French, Anglos that stick out like a sore thumb most of the time, strollers filled to the brim with children, screaming babies, and old men shuffling about stroking their beards, women moving faster than the speed of light, teenagers at pastry shops wasting the day. I recently saw a Hassidic man on a motorized bicycle, black and white, beard and peyot flying in the wind, hat tightly on his head, speeding up Yafo in between the light rail trains moving in either direction, his bike making the sound of a tired engine. It was a sight to be seen.

I don't know what it is about this place, but the awe I feel for it is not the type of awe that people normally feel when they see something brilliant or unexpected for the first time. It's more muted, more internal, more personal. It's like my neshama has been here the whole time, like my body and eyes and nose and ears are simply catching up. Nothing surprises me -- no scent or site, no inconvenience or frustration. For me, it's all part of a continuous tapestry that I am lucky enough to experience day after day. It's just life, and I'm living it.

In many ways, I think I am like my father, and I think my little brother Joe also takes much of this on in his personality. A sense of calm, of rolling with the punches, of appreciating people and scenery and history. For all of my neurotic moments and tendency toward being a bit hot headed, I've never been the kind of person who feels a sense of perpetual urgency. I can sit at the bank for two hours, and it doesn't bother me. I can sit outside on a park bench and watch the world spin fast around me and be contented with watching the people, the breeze through the trees, the cats swirling around the Jerusalem stone, and I'm content. I can play the part, of course, of the irritable, impatient, rude Israeli passerby. That's what we call survival skills, folks. In New York City, I drove like a NYC cab driver out of necessity.

But I'm simpler than that, despite what most may think. I appreciate silence, I appreciate the slow and patient approach to life. And in that way, I'll never be Israeli. I will speak the language, eat the food, shop in the stores, relish in the smells and sounds, but I'll never lose my patience or internal awe for Eretz Yisrael.

Why? This place is a gift. No matter how many people fight over it, no matter the amount of tension and unrest, this land means so much to so many people crossing the bounds of gender, religion, creed, and color. If there is any place and any time in which I should be thankful above all else for what my life has become, it is now, and it is here.

Contrasts are beautiful, and Israel is and will always be a land of the starkest, most briliant contrasts.

An Ultimate Hodge Podge Update

Holy wow, I haven't blogged since last Tuesday about aliyah. I'm guessing everyone is wonder what exactly has been going on, and my mind is blown even thinking about it. There have been phone calls in Hebrew with phone company, a visit to the bank (alone) to pick up my bank card, a visit to Misrad HaKlita to get my funds set up, and so very much more. I've been using my Hebrew like mad, which has been both exciting and intimidating.

Basically it goes something like this ... I walk into a store. I ask a question in Hebrew with my pretty okay Israeli accent. Shopkeeper responds with a really lengthy answer in Hebrew. My head explodes, but I nod and smile and say "okay" and "todah" (thank you in Hebrew) and go on my merry way. The thing that baffles most people is that I speak Hebrew much better than I understand Hebrew. Most people who grow up Jewishly hear Yiddish or Hebrew in some form, even if it's just in Hebrew School, so there's usually a gap in speaking but a decent semblance of understanding. I am an anomaly, but I think that's because I didn't start learning Hebrew until 2006 -- and then it was biblical Hebrew!

One gnarly thing about Israel is that I'm really living it up gluten-free style. You see, there are some things that are next to impossible to find in the U.S. both kosher and gluten free. One of those things? Rice noodles. Yes, something as simple as rice noodles, which essentially is rice and water, is impossible to find with a hechsher (kosher symbol). Here? Dozens of options. Curry paste? Easy. Fresh gluten-free bread? No problem. Gluten-free cakes? Delicious and less expensive. Here's what I nabbed for about 119 shekel last week (that's roughly $30).

That's fresh gluten-free sandwich bread, pita, a cake, two

packages rice noodles, and Tamari (wheat-free soy sauce).

Score! In the U.S. this would have cost me probably double. So when you're in Israel, look for this store on Agrippas in Nachlaot near the shuk.

As Chanukah approaches, these things are popping up all over the place. However, for me, these are a no-go. What are these? Sufganiyot, which are traditionally jelly donuts, but nowadays are gourmet and come in all sorts of exotic flavors. While the U.S. gorges on latkes, Israel gorges on donuts!

What else has been happening? Well, I spent Shabbat up in Ra'anana, which is a really nice little town outside of Tel Aviv that has a seriously amazing mall (yes, I went there, and yes, I bought kitchen gadgets and fresh, delicious coffee and loose-leaf tea). It was a huge blessing because I got to spend two whole days with my surrogate family! Good food, good company, getting to relax and see how grown up the kids are ... time flies when you're a world apart.

Finally, I was at the Jewish Agency for Israel's Board of Governor's meeting this morning as a "voice" for the generation of Jews that represent flux and fluidity and how JAFI can better engage and play to that audience. It was quite the excellent morning, and I got to catch up with a bunch of old friends from ROI Community and meet some newer folks, too. Networking is like coffee for me!

Mah od? (What else?) That's the quick and dirty. Life is still amazing, I'm working, I'm socializing, I'm drinking coffee, travelling, walking everywhere, waking up happy, and aside from a few annoying mosquito bites, I cannot complain about anything. I'd really wanted to write a Lech Lecha blog post since that was this week's Torah portion -- tying it to aliyah and how perfect and right it all feels -- but alas, time was not on my side this week.

Here is to another amazing week in Israel as an Israeli!

A Gluten-Free Manischewitz Review

The kind folks over at Manischewitz were kind enough to send me some amazing and delicious gluten-free treats around the holidays last month. Although I didn't have the time with my big aliyah move to cook with all of them, I did have time to sample a few items, including the Guiltless Gourmet All Natural Snack Crunches: Roasted Cashew Crunch, the Mishpacha Gluten Free Flavored Coating Crumbs, and, of course, the Manischewitz Gluten-Free Chocolate Cake Mix.

My thoughts? Well, the first thing I dove into, of course, was the cake mix, which happened to come conveniently with the pan to bake it in and the frosting mix. Now, for someone who lives alone, this was the perfect size cake -- roughly the size of the box when made. Yes, I happened to indulge in the entire thing, and yes I got a little sick from the sugar, but honestly this was one of the better gluten-free cake mixes I've happened upon. It was incredibly moist, the chocolate was thick and dark, and it hit the spot. If I liked yellow cake, I probably would have made the other box, too, but my waistline thanks me for not enjoying yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Find all their sweet treats here.

The next nosh? The All Natural Snack Crunches: Roasted Cashew Crunch (yes, they come in other flavors). The first thing I did with this was look at the ingredients, because when you're eating something that says All Natural, you really want it to be All Natural. I think that Guiltless Gourmet does a pretty good job of sticking to it, and I appreciate them explaining what inulin is. The ingredients?

Dry roasted cashews, pure cane sugar, tapioca syrup, inulin (chicory root fiber), sea salt, natural flavor.

I'm not sure whether tapioca syrup, inulin, or "natural flavor" are good for you, but by and large for having no GMO ingredients and being vegan and gluten free, I'm hesitant to complain when they tasted so so so good. I topped off the package without batting an eyelash over a few days. It was the perfect snack to hit the spot -- the kind of thing you buy and keep in your car, because these are better for you in a million ways than stopping at Starbucks for a super venti mega sugar carb loaded beverage to hold you off until dinner.

And last, but not at all in the least, are the Flavored Coating Crumbs, which are surprisingly produced in Israel, my new home! I used these in making a batch of Spaghetti (Squash) and Bean "Meat" Balls as a binding agent. I've done these before, but never with a coating crumb (aka "bread" crumb) before, and the honest truth is they kept their shape a lot better than without. There wasn't a huge flavor shift, but I was extremely happy that they kept my delicious little Italian-style bean balls together in one piece for my makeshift vegan version of a classic. (And, if you're really, really religious, you'll be pleased to know there is not one but three hechshers on the package!)

Overall? I was pretty happy with the new gluten-free products out by Manischewitz  I really wish I had gotten a chance to try their gluten-free noodles, so I'll have to see if I can't manage to find them here in Israel.

If you hit the store and try out any of their gluten-free nosh, let me know what you think!

My Aliyah Essay

I'm considering using this as my shidduch (matchmaking) resume. This is the essay I wrote for my Nefesh b'Nefesh/Jewish Agency application for aliyah. Enjoy!

This is a doozy. Where do I begin? I was born and bred a Midwestern girl in a Midwestern tradition of Christianity. I spent most of my childhood in the Bible Belt of Southern Missouri, denying the faith as young as 10 years old. We moved to Nebraska when I was entering middle school and despite my best efforts to fit in by the time I was done with high school I was a religious question mark. I created my own religion, with my own tenets, and I lost a lot of friends over it. My freshman year of college, during one of those deep metaphysical conversations freshman have about the meaning of life a friend quipped that I should pick up a book on Judaism, him seeing that my own made-up sense of religion was, in fact, best aligned with Judaism. I bought Anita Diamant’s “Choosing a Jewish Life” from a used bookstore, quickly discovered there were two synagogues in town (a Reform and Conservative), and that I had a friend who had a friend who was Jewish. After a few years of hammering out what I knew was awakening in me through university classes and blogging, I stepped foot in a synagogue and never looked back -- I was home. I completed my Reform conversion in April 2006, moved to Washington D.C. and quickly dove into the Torah, reading every parshah every week for an entire year. I moved to Chicago in 2007 and found myself moving in a different direction than the mega-church-style Lakeview Reform community and stepped into a Conservative synagogue into a “breakaway” young adult minyan. And then? Then I went out and bought two skirts (the first I’d owned probably since high school) and made my way to an Orthodox synagogue a few weeks before Passover in 2008. Imagine carrying around a load of bricks, and you’re not sure why you’re carrying them and then suddenly you go someplace and realize, “Oh, right, these belong here!” Well, stepping into that synagogue was what that felt like. I vowed to have an Orthodox conversion, and the moment I got to Connecticut to pursue my master’s in Judaic Studies, I found a synagogue, found a rabbi, and by January 1, 2010, I completed my RCA Beth Din conversion in New York City.

Sof sof!

And now? Well, after being married for 16 months (May 2010-September 2011) and asking for a get just weeks before Rosh Hashanah in 2011 and moving halfway across the country to Colorado to clear my head, I’ve realized that I’m happier and healthier than I’ve been in my entire life. But the things I don’t have in Colorado are numerous: the Orthodox dating world is nonexistent and guys from the coasts don’t want to date someone who doesn’t live closer, I have a fairly nonexistent social life, and I have no family here. The people I consider family live in Israel. The R-----------s, who watched me pre-conversion, post-conversion, through my marriage, and held my hand through my divorce, live in Ra'anana. They’re my family. Friends I’ve met on Twitter and through my blog reside in Israel and make me long for the place that, whenever I visit, I feel so at home. I have a bracelet with the coordinates of Jerusalem that I had made because wherever I go, my heart is in Jerusalem.

I always told people the only reason I don’t live in Israel is because of the weather. I’m a sucker for snow, and I hate hot weather. But, I guess, I’m feeling the nudge now. I’m single, unattached to any place, and now is probably a good of time as any to make the leap. I miss my friends, I miss my family, I miss knowing that I’m at home. I know it will not be easy -- believe me, I know that. But very little in my life has been easy. What I know is that with people at my side who genuinely care about my well-being, anything is possible. And, of course, there’s always the obligation to live in Israel, to dwell in the land, to be a part of something amazing, beautiful, and brilliant. To watch the children of Israel return, with hopes and dreams in tow.

The Flattery and Losing

I give you ... my dinner! Here you have in my Middlebury College-Brandeis University Hebrew Ulpan mug, some delicious Schwepp's Riesling-flavored Soda, and then there is some delicious sauteed kale with tomatoes with a bit of olive oil, salt, and pepper. Next to that you have some gluten-free crackers and my new favorite hummus, which happens to be some type of crazy spicy fiery hummus.

Delicious and fresh.

Today was a particularly interesting day. I spent the morning dealing with some cellphone stuff, and I was proud of myself for being able to call and tell the women -- in Hebrew -- that my data plan wasn't working, that I couldn't log on to the website, and that I needed some serious help. Eventually I got to an English speaker and he helped me out.

I spent the afternoon working at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Yafo, and I got to experience my first real bit of rain in Israel. It was warm and cool at the same time, and the world kept moving while it was raining. As I sat underneath the overhang outside the coffee shop, taking in all of the people moving so quickly in every direction, every type of Jew, Christian, Muslim, and non-religionist. If you believe for one second that Israel is filled with nothing but Jews, just sit at a coffee shop on Yafo for fifteen minutes and your mind will be blown.

I capped the day off out with @melschol shopping for some shells (those things women wear under their shirts to be modest, or tzniut) when the craziest thing happened! Yes, I was randomly hit on by a guy trying to bum a cigarette. He was frum (Orthodox) enough to not have an email address but not frum enough to avoid shaking my hand -- twice. It was weird. Flattering? A little bit. But not much.

And now? I'm home panicing because it appears I've lost my teudat zehut already. Yes, that's my ID card. It's like losing your driver's license. I've had it since Thursday. And already it's gone. I know it was in my purse when I left. And I don't know when it disappeared. But when I got home, there were two guys outside my gate who said "Hey, you lose your ID?" and I said "No," because the truth is that I didn't think I had lost my ID. And then I looked, and oh, I'd lost it.

And now? I have no way to look in the mailbox, because it's the whole building's mailbox.

Ahhh ... freak out!

Shabbat in Yerushalayim

Shavua tov! What. A. Shabbat. Where do I begin? Seriously, where!? Last night I spent some time at the home of some good friends and had the most delicious crisp of my life. Also? They had air conditioning, which was stellar and a nice reprieve from the heat I've been dealing with at my apartment. It also was nice to just sit and chat for several hours about everything and anything. It was comfortable, and relaxing, and amazing! Today, I slept in pretty late, had some cereal, and then schlepped off to the Kotel. The amazing thing about living in Jerusalem is that I can just wander aimlessly and at a pace as slowly as humanly possible. I arrived to the Kotel around two something, which means I was able to sort of sit and people-watch and daven for about three hours.  I had some crazy, bananas emotional moments while davening, realizing that I was really, really there. In my Ohel Sarah siddur, there was a special supplication for the Kotel, which I read a few times. There also was a special prayer for finding a zivug, which I read several times. Between Minchah and Ma'ariv, I was reading Pirkei Avot, and came across something 2:20, which gave me some insight into my search for a zivug ... 

Rabban Gamliel the son of Rabbi Yehuda the Prince said, Torah study is good with a worldly occupation, because the exertion put into both of them makes one forget sin. All Torah without work will ultimately result in desolation and will cause sinfulness. 

All who work for the community should work for the sake of Heaven, for the merit of the community's forefathers will help them, and their righteousness endures forever. And as for you, God will reward you greatly as if you accomplished it on your own.

Yes. Work and Torah. Avodah v'Torah. A real mensch does them both, and it keeps him occupied enough so that he doesn't have wandering eyes. So the Kollel guys and the work-only guys and the no-work guys ... no dice.
And then there were a few things that I realized ... things in which I think a PSA is needed!

• The reason people walk backwards away from the kotel is because it's as if you're walking away from a King. It's a sign of respect. Watch some old movies with English royalty and you'll see very much the same. A lot of people didn't seem to know why or for how long you are supposed to walk backwards (seriously? there isn't a limit, but don't run into people!). 
• The scarves that are available at the entrance are to cover your shoulders if you're wearing a tanktop or to cover your hair if you're married. Women were doing all sorts of crazy things with the scarves, but I noticed people of all ages covering their hair with the scarves. I think this is a bit of the confusion between the Orthodox Christian/Muslim/Jewish faith traditions. 

Part of me thinks there should be some kind of sign at the entrance to the Kotel in various languages explaining the traditions, practices, and so forth. What do you think? 

I realized after davening Minchah that there was actually a minyan down toward the Kotel (I was hanging out at the back) where the men stand really close to the mechitzah, allowing women to listen and participate. So when it came time for Maariv, I headed down there, which was nice, because they did a stellar havdalah! Yes, a giant cart pulled into the men's section with bundles of mint, which people passed out and around for havdalah! Talk about nifty. 

What a Shabbat. I saw so many attractive bochurim, so many young frum girls, and realized that I'm so old out here in the dating game. But that's what all the davening was for, right!?

Shavua tov, cheverim!

The Hebrew Index: If you ever have questions, let me know. Or if you want me to blog about any of the words I'm using or concepts I'm sharing, let me know, too! 
davening = praying
Maariv = evening/night prayers
Mincha = afternoon prayers
havdalah = the end-of-Shabbat prayers, separating Shabbat from the rest of the week
mechitzah = the divider that separates the men's and women's sections
bochurim = single guys
frum = Orthodox or observant
cheverim = "friends"
Ohel Sarah siddur = a specific prayer book for women published by Artscrolls
Kollel = that place where guys study after yeshiva -- it's like yeshiva for adults
yeshiva = religious "high school"
zivug = match, or partner
Kotel = the Western Wall, also known as Ha'Kotel Ha'Maarav (kotel = wall)

The New Apartment

A Day in the Life

Photos -- except the last one -- courtesy of Laura Ben-David of Nefesh b'Nefesh!

Getting off the plane. Smiling so big my face hurt!

After being shutteled over to the old terminal, we sit in orange 

chairs waiting for our names to be called for processing.  It is at 

this time that I realize my U.S. passport has had a sticker placed

in it by the Israeli Embassy with my Aliyah Visa!

Laura and I sit and chat. But mostly Laura was running around taking

so many amazing photographs. This woman is SUPER woman, seriously. 

Sitting down, signing paperwork, getting goodies, and learning a bit, too!

 The important things in life. SIM card with 200 minutes and my 

Teudat Olah (documentation of immigration, sort of like a passport). 

 The whole group -- exhausted, sweating, and ready to pick up our luggage!

And you've see this already, but this is me right before heading out

to the taxi that was to take me home -- to Nachlaot!

The In-Flight Commentary

I wrote this in two spurts while in-flight on my way from JFK in New York City to Ben Gurion in Israel. Enjoy!

As I walked down the ramp after reluctantly giving up my carry on, I said to no one in particular, with a huge grin,

"It's happening."

Dinner was outstandingly delicious. Consider ordering gluten free the next time you fly El Al. Fish with steamed zucchini and snow peas, hummus with rice cakes (a substitution I never considered), a salad with Italian dressing, and a delicious chocolate mousse. I was pleasantly surprised. Or maybe it was that I hadn't eaten all day ... Again.

It's just after 7 a.m. in Israel, which means the trip is more than half over. In 4.5 hours we land. That's like a trip to LA from NY. Someone on the plane is sick enough to necessitate the "Is there a doctor on board" call. Of course, there were several.

I'm currently watching some ooey gooey Discovery Channel-style thing. It made for brain-stimulating background noise as I completed a crossword puzzle. I spent a good ten minutes puzzled (bada ching!) on the last clue: feature for a garage door. S_ _s_r. Duh Chaviva!

I've watched two movies so far: Rock of Ages and some movie with a star-studded cast that took place in Rome. Rock of Ages was good, and not annoying at all. I was bummed by Alec Baldwin's role, however. And Tom Cruise just ... He just. The other movie had Jessie Eisenberg, Woody Allen, the girl from Juno, Alec Baldwin (seriously El Al, what's up with that?), Roberto Benini, and Penelope Cruz. It was quality, but it left me sort of wondering ... And? [Note: The movie is To Rome With Love.]

The flight has been going smoothly for me. More smoothly than usual. That is, aside from the kicking child behind me and the petite mother in front of me who has her seat all the way back and keeps pushing on it like there isn't anyone behind her. Sometimes I wonder why people pose all respect for human beings the moment they enter a plane (or any mode of transit, that is).

There are only 67 olim on this flight, which bums me out, but it's no charter flight. Now? I'll watch an episode of Alcatraz I've already seen. It's good Hebrew practice.

Just remembered to write about the international crisis averted when the security guy at baggage drop pulled Bananagrams from my suitcase.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A game," I said. 

"Did anyone give it to you?" he asked. 

"No ... It's mine," I said. 

The girl whose luggage was in after me? She also had Bananagrams and nothing happened. What's up with that?

It's now 9:23 in Israel. We're two hours out. What? Is this happening?!

I haven't gotten up nice to move around. I think my legs are not gong to be able to carry me when the time comes. That's the downfall of the window seat, of course. [Note: I did get up to move around about an hour before landing. It felt so good!]

And ... breakfast.

The Chaviva Has Landed

Photo courtesy THE Benji Lovitt, who greeted me at the airport!
My mouth hurts from smiling. And I think the delirium is obvious. 

I have three suitcases with various sundry items like clothing in them. They're staring at me saying, "Where on earth are you going to put us? Do you see closet space? Are you going to live out of suitcases for the next month?"

And I don't have an answer. There's a desk in this Nachlaot apartment, but I might have to relocate the desk and acquire an aron -- a sort of closet that isn't a closet. Something like what Belle had in Beauty and the Beast. Yes, the movie. The Disney movie. Am I delirious? It's possible. I've been up for quite some time, I didn't sleep on the plane, my arms are like spaghetti from the schlepping of the bags, I'm hungry but have no desire to pay for food or make food, I need to shower but kind of want to fall over sideways onto the bed and just sleep, my inbox is crawling with emails, I have so much work to do that my face might explode, and these CLOTHES ... what am I going to do with them?

I can't believe I'm here. Utter and complete disbelief. As I walked around with a good friend and her kids to Marzipan (a well-known bakery) and a few other stops, it just felt like home. Like normal.

I'm just going to have to figure out the language, my fear of spending while in Israel (yes, for some reason buying things at stores in Israel makes me anxious, however buying coffee and food at restaurants and cafes doesn't), and my schedule.

I have a bunch of things I wrote on the plane, sort of a play-by-play if you will, but that's going to come tomorrow, as well as the experience of arriving and the paperwork and onboarding that occurred. I'm too tired. I'm too dirty. I need to shower, I need to sleep. Time to put my sheets on this bed, make up my comforter-duvet, and put myself to sleep.

From an olah chadasha -- a new immigrant -- I wish you all a sweet lilah tov (goodnight)!

Leg One: Denver to New York

As our plane approaches the state of Illinois, and as I lament missing Felix Baumgartner's epic fall to earth, I have to relay that leaving Denver wasn't at all emotional for me this morning. Am I an emotional zombie? Or maybe just a sleep-deprived zombie?

I went to sleep around 1:45 a.m., woke up at 6:45 a.m. and proceeded to see if any of my luggage gained weight over night. Every suitcase looked like it was somewhere around 48 or 50 pounds, and I still had more to pack up. So I unpacked some things, sacrificing more stuff, again. I'm beginning to wonder what is in my bags that makes them so heavy, if anything. It's probably the bottles of vitamins. Maybe.

I showered, packed up, sold my bed, and schlepped off without enough time to hit the bank. Here's hoping there's a Chase Bank at LaGuardia or JFK. If not? I'm kind of screwed. I returned my car and arrived at the airport at the same time as approximately five million other people. Yes, the line for security went out and around to baggage claim, which, if you've never been at DIA is, well, insane. What's more insane is that it took about 15 minutes to get through security. I should have just taken the chance and not taken out my liquids and computers; they probably wouldn't have said anything.

If anything is going to kill me on this trip, it's the giant computer and the three books I could fit into my carry on. My carry on suitcase is … it's got to wait like 40 pounds. I nearly killed two people getting it into the overhead compartment. Throw on that my backpack, which is stuffed to the brim with my camera, my computer, my iPad, my unlocked iPhone 4s, and other fragile items like my mezuzot … and I'm going to have knots in my back the size of golf balls and sore arms for a week.

I'm kvetching a lot, aren't I? Sorry. I love traveling; I hate schlepping.

I'm eager to get to my hotel. For the first time in a good six months or so, I'll be able to watch Sunday night television -- live! It's the small stuff, folks. I'm eager to just kick back and chill out for a little while, to enjoy a cushy king-size mattress and really let my hair down (not that it's possible).

Listen, I'm not feeling the reality of my move yet. Is that weird? Maybe I won't? I wrote in my last post about how it just feels right, it feels like a second skin. Is that why it doesn't feel like I've packed my life up and am moving across the world? Why does it feel so … relaxed? So inconsequential? So … just so?

Maybe once I get to JFK tomorrow and see the Nefesh b'Nefesh booth and join the other olim at the gate it will suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. And maybe it won't, and I'm okay with that.

Anyone out there who has made aliyah: What was the experience like for you? Butterflies or anxiety or fears or excitement or anything?

The Listen and the Action

Two of my three 50-pound suitcases +

my carryon suitcase + my backpack. 

What I've realized is that there are not enough pounds in the aliyah allotment for me to schlep the amount of clothes, coffee mugs with sentimental meaning, medical stuff (vitamins, supplements, allergy pills, and my oodles of creams), my down-alternative comforter (because I'm neurotic about the things I sleep with and on -- not being able to schlep a pillow is actually causing me unrest), and so forth. I don't know how it filled up so fast. But it did. I had to hardcore downsize, leaving lots of clothing and some precious home goods behind. I sent home THREE boxes of books to my parents -- seforim and lots of books from graduate school I cannot part with. I'm not taking a single cookbook with me. I'm so paranoid about finding clothes that both fit me and are well-built (being a plus size gal makes certain items difficult to find anyhow), so I stocked up here. My luggage is brimming with Lane Bryant and Old Navy and ... I'll be set for a while, anyhow. 

I'm rising in about 5 hours and 45 minutes to shower and get everything else packed up. I'm weighing my luggage every few minutes, it seems like, and I just know I'm going to get to the airport and they're either going to be too heavy or they're going to have five pounds of free room and I'm going to say "WHY ME?! WHY!?" After packing, I'm packing up the car, taking a last-minute trip to the donation center, the bank to withdrawal a ridiculous amount of cash, and off to the airport for my 11:15 a.m. flight to New York City. 

If anyone desires a meetup in the Five Towns for dinner Sunday night, let me know. My flight gets into LaGuardia at 5 p.m. and I figure I'll be at my hotel by 6:30 or 7 p.m. Then? Rest. Relaxation ... and ... I'll probably end up doing a lot of work actually. Monday I have to be at JFK by 3 p.m. for my 7 p.m. Nefesh b'Nefesh flight to Israel. 

This is aliyah folks. When you're a young, single person, you pack your life into three, 50-pound suitcases plus a carry on plus a personal item. The funny thing is that it doesn't feel weird to me. At work on Friday everyone said I seemed inordinately calm. For me, it's like I'm moving to a new city -- something I've done so very many times before. Packing up a bunch of suitcases and schlepping them across a country is what I do, so an ocean seems no different to me. The only difference is that I'm not the one driving the car doing the schlepping -- I'm on a plane, my luggage is packed tightly away, and I'm at the whim of the weather, some pilots, and time. 

It's adventure for me. Grabbing life by the reins and really owning it. It's taking the land -- Eretz Yisrael -- and possessing it. HaShem commanded me -- all of Israel -- to do this. So it doesn't feel strange, it just feels more right than all of the other attempts I've made at moving and possessing the space I inhabit. This time, it's real. This time? It's for keeps. This time, HaShem is fully with me. I finally listened, as we're commanded so many times in the Torah to do so. Shema, it says. Listen. 

Not once in the Torah does HaShem demand that we obey Him. HaShem asks us merely to listen. To absorb. To take in. To internalize. And only then do we act, because we want to be an active participant in this world, in this creation, in Am Yisrael. 

"Be silent, Israel, and listen! You have now become the people of the LORD your God. Listen to the LORD your God and follow His commands and decrees that I give you today" (Deut. 27:9-10).

It's taken me several years of listening to finally act. And now that I am? The listening, the choice, the action -- it's like feeling my skin for the first time. It's a part of me.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock

This baby is so cute. I saw her in Dallas, 

and then saw her again in Denver! Oozing cute.

What the what! I haven't blogged in nearly two weeks. What is wrong with me? Where have I been? Where is my mind? Well, fancy you for asking!

The past few weeks have sort of floated by, and because of the nature of them floating, I didn't really notice the time flying so quickly. I'm now sitting in my apartment wondering how on earth I will empty it by Sunday morning when I head to Denver International Airport to head off to New York City where I'll spend Sunday night and then fly off to Eretz Yisrael on Monday evening.

My MacBook Pro was in the shop for two days last week, leaving me largely incommunicado. Then my Sprint service ended, so I was without any form of reaching people on the go. The wifi on my flight to Los Angeles for Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah on Sunday to visit my good friends the Lightstones was patchy, so I didn't get a thing done work-wise. By the time I got to Los Angeles, there was a Hoshana Rabbah meal to be had, followed by unpacking and helping out in the kitchen. I showered and before I knew it, it was chag. After two days at a Chabad Yeshiva davening for Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah and meeting so many amazing and inspiring people who wished me nothing but hatzlocha in my aliyah, the internet was down at my host's house. Without a cell phone with any semblance of technology, I ended up going web-less for a good 72 hours.

It was horrifying and liberating.

I spent most of today on the plane and when I got back clearing out my inbox, finally doing all of the work that had been put off because of computer problems and web issues. And now? Four emails in my inbox, and only two of those are actually pressing work issues that have to be handled tomorrow. Of course, that doesn't include one major, insane project that I really need to finish by Sunday so my head doesn't explode.

For some reason, it feels like I have to get tons of stuff done before making aliyah. Like I'm moving and then not doing my job anymore, but the truth is that I get to Israel, I sleep, I wake up, I work like normal. Life continues, work continues, everything stays the same -- I'm just in a different time zone (a better time zone, if you will). Oy.

In the past few weeks, I saw friends from Dallas, I saw a friend from back East who now lives in Denver, ate a ton of food, saw my friends from Crown Heights in Los Angeles, had an emotional moment realizing where I was staying in L.A. was right near Pink's (which, for those of you who have known me forever know that was the site of my first date with the great love of my life, Ian, who grew up thinking he was Jewish and then found out he wasn't). Two weeks, so many locations. So much food. So many emotions.

And now I have butterflies in my stomach. The kind of butterflies you get when you're going on a first date. You're excited, and worried, and scared, and eager, and it's a big mush that makes you feel like you have to vomit.

I anticipate a vlog coming up in the next day or so as I officially empty out my apartment on Friday morning when ARC comes by to pick up all of my remaining worldly belongings (which, honestly, is mostly kitchen stuff like plates and silverware and storage containers and cups). The only major thing left I need to sell is my bed. Someone, please buy my year-old bed, please!

Can you sense my anxiety? My excitement? My pure and utter elation and butterflies!? If you can't, you will ... oh you will.

Stay tuned for some highlights of my Los Angeles experience. That is, if I have the time to write about it.

Another Year, Another Number

So ... it's my Gregorian, crawled-from-the-womb-of-my-mother birthday. I'm 29 years old today. That means next year I'll be 30, and that's an age I've always longed for. Why? I can't say exactly. I just feel like it's some kind of prized accomplishment to hit 30. Twenty-nine, it seems, is not so exciting. But at least I remembered my birthday this year.

I slept in, went and got a massage thanks to a gift credit from an awesome coworkers, bought myself a birthday cake to take to a friend's sukkah tonight, and am now sitting outside of a Whole Foods still greased up from my massage drinking something called RUNA that advertises itself as "focused energy." Only 50 calories per bottle! Hoo-rah!

So what is my wisdom? What is my grand statement of day of birth clarity?

I honestly don't have one. Birthdays, it seems, are irrelevant at this age. I don't get gifts anymore, and the only in-the-mail card I got was from the stellar Tenzin (thank you!). It's another day, and that's okay.

If you look back to Tanakh, the only birthday ever mentioned was Pharoah's, and he was no friend to the Israelities -- so why do we even celebrate birthdays? Age, it seems, was only important at the point someone died or something major happened.

Perhaps someday a biography will state, "At age 29, Chaviva moved to Israel." And then it will skip forward to the next age-significant moment in my life's chronology.

When I was in kindergarten I had a bowling party. After that I think it was mostly sleepovers. My 16th birthday involved miniature gummies that were shaped like hamburgers. When I turned 21, I met my (mostly) underage friends for dinner at Old Chicago and then went bar hopping with my newspaper coworkers and imbibed quite a lot of Bomb Pops (perhaps the most delicious girly beverage on the face of the earth). After that? Birthdays stopped being fun and started being obligatory. Two years ago, I got my first ever surprise "party" on Shabbat when my ex-husband took me out while sick to a friend's apartment where there were mini-festivities as I sniffed and coughed and felt like utter hell.

So there we are. It's 2012, I'm 29 years old, and it's really nothing special. I'm crazy stoked for Sukkot, but I'm realizing that leggings or tights or something warmer than what I currently seem to have in my wardrobe might be necessary.

Here's to another year. And celebratory birthday leggings. Chag sameach, everyone!

Yom Kippur in Galut

I had an incredibly emotional Yom Kippur, and for the first time in many years I was able to power through a migraine and fully fast without drinking anything. There was something in the air this year about Yom Kippur ... something fulfilling and powerful. Something that moved me to tears during the confessions or vidui.

We have willfully sinned.

That one got me every time. Thinking back on the past year and knowing that I made choices that were ones of sin, and yet acted anyway, well, that smacked me in the gut and brought tears to my eyes. I think that for the first time the Yom Kippur service held a deep and painful personal meaning for me, and it stretched back beyond last year into my failed marriage. 

I was asked to speak during Kol Nidrei with Minyan Na'aleh for roughly five minutes on "new beginnings" because of my impending aliyah. I gladly accepted -- to be asked meant so much to me. I toiled over what to say for a long time, and I ended up turning to my rav to hash out exactly how to connect Yom Kippur with aliyah with new beginnings with my ever-changing experience. The result, I think, had a more powerful impact than I could have known. I won't repost the text here, mostly because it's that personal. Yes, I stood in front of a crowd of largely strangers, but for some reason it made sense. The message? Choices. I spent three years of my life devoid of choices. Aliyah is me breaking out with the ultimate choice. 

I managed to stand throughout the entirety of Neilah, despite fatigue, a headache, and the fact that I was completely freezing. The sanctuary was frigid, and I was dressed for a typical Colorado summer day. Near the end of the service, when the shofar was blown and a burst of adrenaline had the men dancing around the bimah singing "L'shanah ha'ba'ah b'Yerushalyim!" (next year in Jerusalem), I realized that the words were so apt. So personal.

As Yom Kippur ended and I grabbed some Orange Juice and headed home, I realized that I'm so close to Israel. I'm mere weeks away. I just have to power through the eight days of Sukkot and Simchat Torah and Shemini Atzeret and then ... I'm off.

Sell my car. Sell my bed. Pack my clothes and books. And say goodbye to Colorado and hello to the choice of a lifetime. 

It's a MoSHY Life for Me!

Motzei Shabbat cooking ... sweet squash stuffed with lemon-pepper rice.

I've returned to the classic tradition of some of our greatest scholars ... the tradition of MoSHY -- Meat on Shabbos and Yontif. After spending a good bulk of the year as a vegan, I recently started eating fish again, and then with the holidays appearing I realized that my dietary restrictions made me a tough guest for people. So I've opted to be MoSHY for the time being. So the things I'm not eating? Dairy, gluten, and "added" sugar. And meat. But only during the week. 

Food is so complicated, but I've discovered that my body isn't absorbing the right nutrients, at least not in the right capacity, so I'm hoping consumption of fish and some meat will get my body back on track. My aliyah flight is kind of a bummer because I have two options: Gluten Free w/Meat or Vegetarian w/Gluten. Clearly I have to order the former. Chances are good I'll be bringing my own nosh on-board. 

So for Shabbat, I whipped up some delicious Dairy-Free, Gluten-Free Salmon Chowder. This recipe was me kind of winging it. I combined roughly four different recipes I found online but didn't like in full, so I picked them apart and put my own together! In the future, I anticipate adding some corn starch to thicken it up a bit and a bit more fish. But overall? Amazing. 

Ingredients

1 large yellow onion, diced 

1 can corn 

2 cups fingerling potatoes, diced 

1/2 bunch kale, roughly chopped 

2 carrots, peeled and diced 

4 cups vegetable broth 

1/2 cup almond milk (or other dairy-free milk)

1/2 cup Original So Delicious Coconut Creamer 

1 1/2 pound salmon fillet, skinned, boned and cut into small cubes 

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley 

1/2 teaspoon dried dill 

1/4 teaspoon sea salt 

Plenty of pepper 

Directions

1. Saute the onion and celery until onion is translucent. Add potatoes and saute 5 minutes more. Do not brown. 
2. Add carrots and stock, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until vegetables are fork tender about 15-20 minutes. You really want the goods to be fork tender.
3. Add milk, half and half, salmon, kale, parsley, dill and pepper. 
4. Simmer over low heat 5-10 minutes or until fish is cooked through and liquid is steaming, but not boiling. Throw on some minced chives if that's your fancy.
5. Add plenty of pepper and salt to taste.

Motzei Shabbat cooking ... a random rice concoction including wild rice,

corn, red pepper, tomato, tangerine, maple syrup, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and ...

I think that's about it. Completely random ingredients I had around.

What is a Jewish Birthday?

All of the goodness in this blog post comes from the amazing book that is Bnei Avraham Ahuvecha: Gerim in Chassidic Thought by the illustrious and wonderful Dov ben Avraham.

I was born on September 30, 1983 || 23 Tishrei 5744.
I was born Reform-Jewishly on April 28, 2006 || 30 Nissan 5766.
I became a halachic Jew on January 1, 2010 || 15 Tevet 5770.

So, what do I celebrate?

I get excited every year when we're nearing Simchat Torah because that's my birthday! The actual day that I was born day. The day that I crawled out of the womb of a non-Jew into a big world that was just waiting for me to realize my neshama. I like to think of it as HaShem knowing that I'd someday give in to the Jewishness and thus forced me out into the world on the day that we dance around and celebrate the completion of the cycle of Torah. It's celebrating coming full circle. Thus every year I really feel like my birthday and Simchat Torah really offer a unique experience.

But the truth is this: Even though my my actual date of birth remains the same (halachically speaking), I should be celebrating my spiritual birth as a Jew. Even though when a person completes geirus (conversion) it is a rebirth, the ger emerges as a gadol (a fully halachic adult).

In Tosafot Rosh HaShanah 27a, Rabbeinu Tam writes that G-d's ...

"desire for the world began in the month that would eventually become Tishrei, while the physical creation of the world happened in the month of Nissan. The physical creation of the world, however, is not emphasized or celebrated. Instead, we commemorate God's desire for a world which would benefit from His goodness. The date of a ger's physical creation, his biological birth date, is not the tachlis (the purpose) of his being. Rather, his purpose, what God ultimately desires of him, is found in his spiritual birth via becoming a Jew." ("Some Halachic Aspects of Geirus" by Rabbi Avraham Chaim Bloomenstiel in Bnei Avraham Ahuvecha)

Thus it's most appropriate for the convert to celebrate the spiritual creation rather than the physical creation.

That being said, there's nothing outright wrong with celebrating your Gregorian/physical date of birth. In fact, after so many years of doing so, it seems strange to switching to just my spiritual birthday. Celebrating both, on the other hand, seems right up my alley.

I do think it's interesting to consider, however, that a born Jew -- whether they're religious or not -- technically has their "spiritual awakening" at birth, no matter how spiritual. It's automatic.

Then again, I suppose that there is not date and time that a born Jew becomes a ba'al teshuva, right? Or can you pinpoint the moment you returned to religious observance (if you're a BT)? And if you're a convert, what birthday do you celebrate?

Names.Vocabulary to Know

• Rabbeinu Tam was a leading 12th-century halachic authority. 
• Tosafists were medieval rabbis from France and Germany who are among those known in Talmudic scholarship as rishonim that created critical and explanatory questions, notes, interpretations, rulings, and sources on the Talmud.

Links to Visit

• Find your Hebrew birthday and make your own certificate here: http://www.chabad.org/calendar/birthday_cdo/aid/6228/jewish/When.htm

The Q&A of 10Q: The Ultimate Truth

I thought about writing a reflective piece on divorce and how it impacted me over the past year, since many of last year's 10Q answers focused on that. But I realized my answer to two questions actually define the past year and offer my ultimate truth.

Day 2: Is there something that you wish you had done differently this past year? Alternatively, is there something you're especially proud of from this past year? 

Your Answer: I wish I had spent more time on myself and not become so wrapped up in my failing marriage. I lost myself. And I am not proud of that. I am however proud that I stood tall and walked away in order to save myself.

And part two:

Day 5: Have you had any particularly spiritual experiences this past year? How has this experience affected you? "Spiritual" can be broadly defined to include secular spiritual experiences: artistic, cultural, and so forth. 

Your Answer: I realized my relationship with HaShem need work. I need to rediscover my passion and faith.

There are two things here. One is that I lost myself, and the other is that in the process I lost my relationship with HaShem. Over the past few months, I've been mastering the art of rediscovering myself while reconnecting with HaShem.

And that is the ultimate truth for 5773, and it is the path by which I'll guide myself this year. Me, Myself, and HaShem!

L'Shanah Tovah u'metukah!

Chaviva Does Dallas!

Hopped on a plane at Denver International Airport at 7 a.m. It was the first time I walked up to the counter to check in and the guy said, "You're a plus seat, so you can have the best seat on the plane, what do you want?" So I opted for the second row, and I got free TV on the way! I watched Kathie Lee and Hoda. It was a fun flight. 

Rav Tex and I went shopping at Trader Joe's for some last-minute goodies and I spotted some delicious-looking pomegranates that weren't a million dollars each. Huzzah!

And here's the cutest little girl on the planet, who makes me happy because she lights up when I walk in the room. Makes. My. Life. If only you could see her eyes. Seriously, the bluest, most beautiful eyes on the planet. And she loves the toy and jacket I brought for her!

So excited for Rosh Hashanah here with tons of my friends' family members. I've been so relaxed while here. I can't believe that in one month, I'll be in Jerusalem.

Life is happening! L'shanah tovah friends!

Big Differences: Ba'alei Teshuva and Converts

I recently received the following email from a blog reader.

...More than once people have drawn the comparison between being a convert and being a BT. I find myself having a hard time explaining the difference to people who cannot relate. My question to you is what is your thoughts on this and if you can help me figure out something smart to say about what makes converts different than BTs.

So for starters, BT stands for ba'alei teshuvah, also known as someone who is born Jewish and either isn't religious and then becomes religious, or is religious, strays, and returns to the religion. 

This is a conversation I have more frequently than I'd like, and it's also one that very rarely has a clean resolve. BTs often feel like they've gone through what a convert has, while converts are often left feeling like BTs and even FFB (frum-from-birth) Jews just "don't get it." In fact, I find it personally frustrating when BTs say that they're also "Jews by Choice." A Jew by birth didn't choose the birthright, it was inherited. A convert chooses to answer the call of the small, still neshamah within. 

So my conversation ender is usually something along the lines of this: 

A born Jew can eat pork one day and have an aliyah the next day. They'll always be Jewish, no matter how far they stray from the path. A convert who has a halachic conversion is held to a "higher standard" that requires a strict adherence to the path. If he or she strays, the entire conversion becomes one big question mark. 

This is something I had cause to deal with earlier this year, as you all know. And I'm sure there are still people who would think twice about having me at their Shabbos table, let alone setting me up with a sibling or cousin. 

I want to emphasize that I'm not saying that BTs or converts are better, holier, or have a more difficult experience than the other. I'm saying they're different. The experiences are different. The outcomes are different. And the struggles are different. 

Whereas a BT might have to deal with a long-secular family thinking they've gone nuts or joined the "dark side," a convert might have an incredibly supportive non-Jewish family that doesn't get it but is willing to support them. On the other hand, a BT might mess up and eat meat and milk together and people will chock it up to the learning curve while a convert might be told that they clearly had a poor education and aren't committed to the law. It's different. Apples and oranges, folks. 

So what do you think? Is there a magic bullet that separates the BT from the convert? A conversation stopper that says there are differences?