How long –?

When people (mostly non-Jewish, but also Jewish friends and family) find out we’re moving to Israel, many of them ask, “so how long are you going for?”

Hello??  Does the word move have a different meaning in your world?

We’re moving.  That means that if everything works out, as we hope it will, we’re not coming back.

That doesn’t mean everything will work out.  Realistically, it often doesn’t, though I believe organizations like Nefesh b’Nefesh do their best to screen people (screening OUT those with unrealistic expectations) and give you a hint of the gruesome realities of making aliyah.

All of which said:  participating in the Go North program (which includes extra grants beyond the basic sal haklita – absorption basket - given to every immigrant) means we are contractually obligated to stay in the north of Israel at least three years.  (I don’t think this is a state secret; I found that information ages ago on the NbN website.)

Which means the short answer is:  three years.  We’re moving, yes, wholeheartedly and God willing, forever.  But in the back of my mind, because NbN put it there, there are those contractual first three years – after which, well, we’ll see, only because (like when you have one of those mortgage-burning parties) we will take note of the date that we are free from that obligation.

Three years is a good amount of time, it seems to me.  I’m told that the first year after aliyah is basically a write-off; there are good moments, but you are miserable a lot of the time.  Fun! 

So one year wouldn’t be a fair “trial.”  Two years, maybe, if you’re just starting to get settled in… or not.  I’m told it takes two years to get used to the weather, so I assume I’ll still be miserable during our second summer.

But three years:  that’s enough time for it to get good and BORING, which is what you really want.  It’s enough time for Hebrew to stop sounding new and strange everywhere you turn and just sound… normal.  It’s enough time for the kids to not only know other kids but to have good friends; friends they can’t remember not having.

Three years is enough time to put down roots and hopefully, start sending out tentative little shoots.

And for Israel in particular, two or three years also seems like the time that it’s generally quiet between Situations.  Sometimes more, sometimes less, but there are rarely four quiet years in a row.

So that’s how long we’re going for:  Forever, of course.  And three years.

The last fireworks

Trying desperately to stop family & friends from using the word “last” – like, “this is your LAST Shavuos here” or “this is the LAST time we go to Riverdale Farm” or some other Toronto landmark.

Yet I definitely felt the word LAST last night, celebrating Victoria Day (we’re the only people in the former British Empire to still do so) with our traditional downtown fireworks display. 

Sitting on the beach I have sat on so many, many times in the last 25 years, plugging a child’s ears because he’s scared of the noise (though he enjoyed it infinitely more now that he has glasses), and wondering if this is the very last time we will enjoy fireworks. 

And scared for what kind of noises that little boy will hear in his new home, so close to Lebanon, so close to Syria, so close to enemies on all sides, when he realizes that not everybody thinks Israel is God’s gift to… well, to the Jewish people, like we do. 

Sitting there, sad and scared and yet, enjoying the experience, bitter-sweetly.

I’ve always thought that fireworks must be a traumatizing experience for people from war-torn regions… just never realized they could be one for a mama on her way into one.

(for any family members or sticklers reading this - yes, this isn’t the last fireworks we’ll be here for, but we skip Canada Day fireworks if the holiday comes out during the Three Weeks, like it does this year…)

Getting the kids ready…

I’ve agreed to write a monthly blog post on the topic of “preparing the kids for aliyah in our little Canadian homeschool,” for the Homeschool Horizons blog, a collaborative bloggy reinvention of a belly-up Canadian homeschooling magazine.  Here’s the first month’s post. 

(this is a mostly Christian audience, so I’ve used English throughout)

This first post is more about the decision to move, rather than the practicalities.  So I think it’s probably quite relevant, and I may eventually repost it here.

And okay, I know what you’re thinking… well, I know what I’m thinking:  “if this is a monthly series, how many of these am I going to get a chance to write before we actually leave?”  The short answer to that is three. 

Three before… and maybe a whole bunch after!

Still waiting for visas.  You, dear avid readers, will be the first to know when we have them.  Okay, the second… after everybody I know in real life.  :-)

What not to tell someone making aliyah

(some details of this online conversation are paraphrased to cover up the person’s identity, but I have preserved the gist of the conversation so you may scream along with me)

Concerned Acquaintance (CA) is a person we don’t know all that well, but is a facebook friend, meaning this person has access to me at all hours thanks to the wonders of instant messaging.

Here’s the message that popped up with a chirrup late one night:

CA:  When you get to Israel, don’t forget to buy gas masks.  Find the bomb shelters.  Figure out how to get there fast.  But you’ll get used to it – hang in there!

Me:  Okay, gas masks are on the to-do list.

CA:  When you’re in the shelter, pray.

Me:  :-)

CA:  Yeah, Lebanon has hundreds of thousands of missiles all lined up waiting to rain down on Israel. 

Me:  :-(

CA:  We’ll be praying for you!

Me: 

CA:  And when the war is over, I’ll come visit!

Me:  Yay!

(I really did say “yay”… really, what else could I have said???)

I’m not saying this person is not correct… these are all valid points, but it’s not like this stuff wouldn’t have occurred to me if it hadn’t been brought to my attention.

“What?  Israel has ENEMIES???!?”

(scream)

Notes from an aliyah pilot trip

Forgot to mention – I wrote this article – Notes from an aliyah pilot trip – about our pilot trip for the Canadian Jewish News and it ran over Pesach.

They used this picture of us, which I thought was an absolutely TERRIBLE picture, but my daughter said it’s one of the best pictures of me she’s seen.  I don’t know what she’s seeing, but when I look at it I see a bitterly cold February day on which we’re supposed to be standing looking out at Karmiel while I was busy regretting my decision to leave my jacket behind in the tour bus.

It really is Karmiel, though. 

Isn’t it pretty?

Again, in case you missed the link, click here to read the article.  Hard to sum up 2 weeks’ worth of very emotional work in 700 words, but I actually think I did quite nicely…

Goodbye, Library

Just went online and changed all my public library holds so they expire on July 31st.

I almost cried.  This feels like pre-arranging a death.

Rebirth!  Rebirth!  Must focus on being reborn in a new and better place… though it’s hard to imagine a universe where I will not need a constant supply of shiny, happy library books.

The truth, however, is that more and more of my books have been coming from places other than the shelves of the library.  I still need a few hard-copy books for Shabbos and Yom Tov reading, but my Blackberry Playbook is a great ebook reader (I had a kobo touch before that, but with no backlighting, it was next to useless). I can still get free ebooks from the library, and there are other ways to obtain reading material that don’t depend on living walking-distance from a great English-language library branch.

So this is a good time to be leaving, technologically – it’s probably never been easier to get English-language reading materials in Israel.

Still.  It’s a bittersweet feeling – mostly bitter.  Some of the books on my list, I know, will not arrive in time. 

For one of them, I’m Patron 260 out of 283.  There’s no way 259 people can read however-many copies of the book they have in the next 4 months.

I wonder which of the many goodbyes in the next four months is going to be the hardest –?

Well, okay, besides the obvious – the Big Goodbye with our family.

Things I will miss… Streets

that start in one place, go in a straight line, and when they’re done doing that, meet all the other streets at nice, tidy right angles!

Here’s our little neighbourhood in Toronto…

And here’s the centre of Karmiel…

Every city looks pretty much like this, all swirly-whirly, as if someone were trying to flush it into some massive subterranean vortex.  Or something.

Of course, this is because streets in Israel are generally built into the landscape, of which there is a great deal.  Whereas here, in this wide-open country, the first European settlers picked places where there wasn’t much landscape to speak of, and then levelled it off just to be sure you’d never have to go up or down more than a few meters.

The nice thing is you’ll never get fat (or stay fat) walking up and down, up and down, and all around the vortex.