The first week - settling in

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Wednesday, August 3, 2011 – Tuesday, August 9, 2011

After almost a week in Israel we are all starting to emerge from the fog of sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, and culture and language shock. Still, at times the fog quickly returns to engulf us anew. And throughout it all, Aimee and I keep turning to each other and saying, “I can’t believe we did it.”

After a quick and dirty unpacking – duffels and hockey bags remained laying half-emptied around our apartment for a few days – Aimee declared mid-morning on our first day that we should go out and find a good nutritious breakfast at a nice local establishment. … as a way to feel less dislocated and more at home. So we headed to our neighbourhood’s main drive – Jerusalem’s equivalent of Vancouver’s 4th Avenue and the Broadway strip between McDonald and Alma – in search of that restaurant, which also needed to be kid and dog friendly. This pretty much limited us to Pizza Sababa at the corner of “the Emek” (Rehov Emek Rephaim) and Rehov (street) Rachel Eemaynu, which has a semi-shaded outdoor area in which Rosie was tolerated, and which sold Pizza at 10:30 a.m. Not surprisingly, we were the first and only customers. A little surprising, on the other hand, in addition to the best pizza on the strip, Pizza Sababa also serves a variety of healthy and generous salads at a reasonable price.

After a couple of “meshulashim” (triangles) each, the boys and I headed out to find “Braychut Yerushalayim” (the Jerusalem Pool) which is an Olympic sized (50 m) swimming pool and aquatic centre almost completely hidden from public view in the midst of Emek Rephaim. Having spent a month in the ‘hood almost two years ago I wondered if the pool still existed, having read about efforts to rip it up and replace it with a high-end commercial development. (As it turns out, there is currently a court injunction preventing its destruction obtained at the behest of a political action committee created to save the pool.) I asked several people in and around Pizza Sababa, all of whom gave me similarly vague directions pointing us towards the corner of that very block. Yet there was no sign of the pool anywhere. And I mean anywhere. About to give up the search in the belief that the development interests had won out, I wandered into a winding hallway in a non-descript building near the corner. Half way along the hall I just happened to glance to my left … and saw an unmarked and narrow passageway which led to, you guessed it, Braychut Yerushalayim. Having confirmed its existence, we resolved to return in the afternoon.

Back out on the street, we ran into a group of five enterprising boys, around Ezra and Adin’s age, with a “leemonada” stand; with glasses selling for two sheckles – the equivalent of about 60 cents. Of course Ezra and Adin wanted and, with the temperature near 40 degrees, they needed. The deal – ask in Hebrew and I’ll foot the bill. Adin, “akshun” (stubborn) as always crossed his arms, pulled in his chin, and refused. Ezra, as always happy to make a deal, agreed and ordered for both – “shtay cossot bevakasha” (2 cups please). While the boys, that is Ezra, ordered two refills – in Hebrew - I asked the vendors whether they could use a couple of new partners. The apparent ringleader said he already had too many partners and was not looking for more.

Aimee did a basic shop at “Super Moshava” next to Pizza Sababa – it would appear that everything one needs is next to Pizza Sababa – where they really do provide service, and that service does really come with a smile. As Aimee paid for her four bags worth of groceries the checkout clerk asked if she needed help to her car. Aimee replied that she’d walked. The clerk offered a buggy, at which point the manager joined the conversation and “volunteered” one of his staff to carry the groceries, no matter that it was four blocks away. You pay a premium at Super Moshava due to its location (next to Pizza Sababa), but boy to you get value for that little extra.

While Aimee went back to emptying our luggage, the boys and I returned to Braychat Yerushalayim. For an invisible aquatic centre, this was one impressive, if somewhat rundown, facility; a covered 50 meter full Olympic lap pool with about 8 lanes, large outdoor kids pools with a large water slide, and a grassy area with tables and sun umbrellas. And a Godsend for the three of us, where we could cool down while burning off some serious nervous energy. The perfect facility, where the boys were able to play with a veritable armory of water guns and swim in the children’s pools for the better part of an hour, while I did laps only steps away.

When we returned home, Aimee walked over to Budget Rent-A-Car, at the northern end of the historic King David Hotel, which the Irgun terrorist/liberation organization blew up in Israel’s battle for independence (actually only the southern end) 65 years and 2 weeks ago on July 22, 1946. While at Budget the heat and exhaustion finally got the better of Aimee, who was falling asleep on her feet while completing the forms. Thankfully Aimee retained the presence of mind to realize that driving home in this condition in Jerusalem’s afternoon rush hour traffic was ill advised, particularly as Aimee had never before driven in Israel. So the kind Budget clerk agreed not to charge us for the day, though we had pre-paid, and arranged for our two-week rental to start the following day. After nodding off on her feet while walking home, Aimee boarded an Egged bus, and stayed awake long enough to be let off right in front of our apartment complex on Rehov Rahel Eemainu.

Supper on the first day … Aimee’s earlier Super Moshava shop bought us some essentials but not enough to put together supper. So … it was back to Emek Rephaim. Without the “Kay-uch” (strength), as my mother would say, for a sit down meal we ordered shwarmah (roasted and sliced turkey in a pitah) at the corner felafel/shwarmah stand for Ezra and me, and fries in a pitah for Adin (giving Adin at least a couple of the essential food groups). Adin fell asleep on his feet with his head on the counter while waiting. We took our meals back home, where Adin flopped straight down on his bed fully clothed - fries left spread out, limp, and uneaten on his plate. Ezra had a couple of bites of his Shwarmah, then said he needed a little rest on the couch before finishing. One second after Ezra hit the couch he was out. Aimee and I were quick to follow, dead to the world at 10:30 p.m. Note to self: Don’t buy Shwarma on the Emek.

Three hours later at 1:30 a.m. I opened my eyes, wide awake, and lay in bed in complete panic, trying to remember what we were thinking when we decided to come here for a year. I lay frozen on my back for two hours before drifting back to sleep. I woke up the next morning, much better rested, feeling almost human. And happily, the panic has yet to return five days later. But I do still try to recall what I was thinking.

Who says Israel’s a small country? … Thursday morning (August 4th) the five of us were in front of our building about to return to Budget when a thin guy in a keepa-sruga’d (knit yarmulka) walked towards us with loaded plastic grocery bags in each hand. “Raphael?” Aimee asked. Stunned, the man stopped. “Aimee?” he replied. Turns out this was Raphael Richmond, a friend who had lived one block away from us in Vancouver and who had made Aliya (moved to Israel) 7 years ago. And he was living in the building next to ours in Ganei Katamon. And his stepson is going to same school as our boys, is half way between Ezra and Adin in age, and has a large group of school friends he hangs with in the park in front of our buildings.

After exchanging contact info with Raphael we returned to Budget, the boys on their “heavy” duty bikes, Aimee, I, and Rosie on foot. Aimee then drove off in our white Hyundai hatchback to do a fuller grocery shop, while the rest of us returned home by way of the new – and very beautiful – bike path along the old tracks that demarcate HaMoshava HaGermanit and the equally desirable neigbourhood of Baka. If, one day, this underused bike path is extended through other parts of the city it’s going to be pretty spectacular. The rails of the tracks have been retained, but the ties have been replaced by a boardwalk for walkers. Bikers cycle along a paved path, separated from the boardwalk by a landscaped grassy boulevard,

We arrived home well before Aimee. Though I began to worry, it turns out that Aimee was just doing a lot of shopping. 1800 sheckels worth. Which translates to about $500. Did I mention that nothing is cheap in this country? At best, prices are comparable to those in Vancouver.

Thursday evening we met up with Ezra and Adin’s new tutor, and her teen-age niece, on the Emek. Very professional with lots of experience tutoring and teaching in Ulpan (intensive Hebrew language programs). “Michal” the tutor seemed to make a nice connection with the boys. We walked them part way to their car … Ezra and his new teen-age friend holding hands along the way.

Friday, August 5th. Aimee, Rosie, and I had our first runs in Jerusalem. Rosie and I took the first shift. We had no particular destination at the start … from past experience running in Jerusalem on our previous trip I’ve learned that having a destination at the start of a run was a pointless exercise since I always ended up somewhere else. With Jerusalem’s hills, twisting valleys, and windy streets - which change names ever few blocks - I feel my way through the city relying on my instincts which leave me lost more often than not. So I just headed west-ish towards Jerusalem’s big park – Gan Sackar and allowed the run to set its own course. While running in the park I decided to try and find one of Jerusalem’s two Kosher McDonalds, to satisfy Ezra’s self-proclaimed primary reason for being willing to accompany us to Israel. One of the Kosher Macs is in the Central Bus Station, a place I prefer to avoid if at all possible, and the other is a newish neighbourhood called Ramat Beit HaKerem next to Mount Herzl. Each Kosher McDonalds is marked my blue signs, rather than the usual red ones … like the red sign at the McDonalds on Emek Rephaim that so disappointed the boys the day before when we took them there with expectations of their first Big Mac. Sure enough I found my blue-signed McDonalds, complete with separate entrances for the meat and milk sections, each separated by a frosted glass wall on the inside. Is the glass frosted to prevent those eating meat from seeing those eating dairy?

By mid-day it was naturally time to return to Pizza Sababa, having gone an entire day without a meal there. As pre-arranged, we met up at Pizza Sababa’s with the Sandlar family who made Aliya a year and a half ago, and whose eldest son Ilan and Ezra are best friends. Next to eating a Kosher McDonalds hamburger, seeing Ilan was the thing that most excited Ezra about coming here. I chatted with Ilan’s dad, Harvey, who is a chef. Harvey’s spent the past year and a half eating at Jerusalem’s finest restaurants - to “check out the competition” he says with a straight face (not). While noting that Tel Aviv is a completely different culinary scene, Harvey recounted that what passes for sophisticated cuisine in this city is dollops of tahina - on absolutely everything. You want Beef Wellington? You better like it with tahina. Fillet mignon? Tahina. Beef Tenderloin? Goes great with Tahina. … Sounds like there’s an opportunity here for Harvey.

With Shabbat approaching the Sandlars headed back to Efrat, a town in Gush Etzion (the Etzion “block” of communities) about 20 minutes drive to the south, and I set about doing my new “minhag” (custom), at Aimee’s “request”, of buying Shabbat flowers every week. As you might have guessed by now, it would seem that we can meet all our needs within mere steps of Pizza Sababa - there’s a flower vendor virtually right next door.

Back at the apartment we had our first Shabbat meal of the year in Jerusalem. Aimee and I drank LeChaim to our unfolding Israel adventure with our 1998 Highland Park single malt Scotch (not quite as smooth as 1996, but not too shabby) purchased at the Frankfurt duty free. And with our flowers set on the table in a little plastic milk jug weighted down with rocks to keep it upright, we sat down to a delicious roast-chicken dinner … since Pizza Sababa does not do a Shabbat meal.

Shabbat morning services here start and finish earlier than abroad. Everyone’s done by 11:00 a.m. instead of noon or later. We walked to the shul we had attended when we were here two years back – Sheer Chadash - now relocated but still in the neighborhood. We brought Rosie along, as she was still too PTSD’d to remain alone in the apartment for more than a few minutes without barking. Unfortunately, Sheer Chadash is now located in a building containing three separate congregations with a tiny square in front completely exposed to the sun. Which was not a place where the boys could hang out and play, nor where Rosie could wait. So Aimee davened (prayed) for the five of us while the boys, Rosie and I went to nearby Lindsey Garden where we all found spiritual fulfillment playing catch in the shade with Frisbee and football.

Sunday we headed up to visit my cousin Mel who lives on Kibbutz Sa’ar along the northern Mediterranean coast of Israel. On our way out of Jerusalem we fulfilled Ezra’s number one goal for Israel – a kosher McDonalds hamburger. Which, according, to the Z-man, did not disappoint. He even brought an extra one back to the car for the trip up north to Mel’s.

Our visit to Mel put our Jerusalem circumstances in a healthy perspective. Sa’ar was not only hotter than Jerusalem, being at sea level, it also had 100% humidity. We spent our first days in Jerusalem in a mental haze. We spent our three days with Mel in a physical haze of heat and humidity. Mel, being acclimatized to the conditions, had neither air-conditioner nor fan on. So his “cozy” modest apartment, having been baking in the sun throughout the summer, offered no relief to us delicate flowers from Jerusalem. Perhaps there’s an Arabic word for the stifling heat we encountered in Mel’s apartment but the English language, having developed in more temperate areas, has none. Mel offered to activate the air-conditioner to which Aimee’s desperate response was simply, “PLEASE!” And within an hour or so the apartment started to cool down.

With the setting of the sun, we drove to the beach of the nearby resort town of Naharia with the hopes of finding a cooler sea breeze. Adin enjoyed dodging the crashing waves with Aimee, while the rest of us watched from what we thought was a safe distance. After the boys “convinced” (i.e. whined, badgered and pleaded) us to buy them gum flavoured slushies along the beach promenade (that shared many features with Coney Island), we headed back to chez Mel. While Aimee worked at getting the boys ready for bed (always a major effort), Mel and I drove off to buy groceries. While the canned tuna and oatmeal on hand at Mel’s place would have more than sufficed, we went crazy and bought fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh bread, and an array of dairy products of a variety well beyond anything that exists in Canada.

We shopped at “Shuk Faisal,” a vast Arab-owned warehouse-style supermarket with the best prices and best selection of everything, especially the produce. The staff - very friendly and mostly, though not exclusively Arab. The clientele – mostly, though not exclusively Jewish. A hopping, happy, prosperous place that reveals a comfortable co-existence that is almost never shown in the Western media.

Back at Mel’s, the apartment continued to cool. With the boys down, but not yet out for the count, we dined on a fabulous salad and fruit. Well satisfied, we headed to bed, with the apartment now almost livable for us delicate Jerusalemites, after a mere three to four hours of cooling. In fact, with the help of an extra fan, we slept soundly through the night. And our Jerusalem digs now seemed palatial to us.

Monday - Mel dog-sat Rosie, while we, along with Mel’s 10-year-old twins and their mom, headed to Israel’s northern-most town of Metulla, which is located near Syria right on the Lebanese border, and is home to “Merkaz Canada” - Canada Centre. Merkaz Canada is Israel’s only real ice-hockey facility. Because we had not intended to go to Metulla during our visit to Mel we had left our skates back in Jerusalem (yes, we really did bring our ice skates to Israel). So we got the world’s worst blue plastic rental skates - that may actually have been sharpened once, but certainly not in recent history. It’s a rather weird and very uncomfortable feeling to push off on one’s skates and remain absolutely in place because there’s no edge on the skates to grip the ice. After returning our skates, and after the skate girl checked several pairs, the boys and I all got skates with super dull edges, but actual edges nonetheless. And with our blue plastic shells buckled (yes buckled) on our feet, we headed back on the ice.

For the first time in Israel Ezra and Adin were truly in their element. Ezra especially, spent an hour with a feel-good smile glowing on his face. A local boy, 12 year-old “Neev,” who was clearly also a hockey player, recognized Ezra as a fellow hockey player. Neev sidled along side Ezra and struck up a conversation, starting in Hebrew and then shifting to English. They became fast friends on the ice and spent the next hour flying around the rink and chatting together. Neev was also impressed with little Adin, who to Neev seemed too small to be skating so well and to be a hockey player. I joined Ezra and Neev, as well as the on-ice official “Ben” who played adult hockey. They gave me the scoop on the local ice-hockey scene. Needless to say, neither Neev nor Ben was skating in blue plastic. They had real Canadian skates. Ben “explained” that the guy who sharpens skates recently had an operation and was unavailable for work. Perhaps one day he’ll return.

I have to say that for me, and for the boys - and despite the blue plastic shells - it felt great skating. It felt even greater skating in Israel, and shmoozing with real live Israeli hockey players who truly love the game as much as Ezra and Adin do. There was a natural affinity between us all, and it was wonderful to see Ezra immediately bond with another Israeli boy who truly seemed thrilled to bond with Ezra.

After skating to closing time, we were famished. But with sunset approaching and the fast of Tisha B’av (the Jewish holiday commemorating a number of tragedies in Jewish history including the destruction of the Jewish temple in Jerusalem) approaching with it, we raced against time to find someplace, anyplace, open that served food. Metulla had shut down so we quickly drove to Kiryat Shemona, the bigger town five minutes down the road. Thankfully, “Felafel Aharon” was open and jumping with business, perhaps because it was the last place selling food in town. For future reference, Kiryat Shemona has a well-deserved reputation for making dynamite felafel. And one could do a lot worse than a felafel from Felafel Aharon at the far northern end of town.

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Photos

Photo 2
Dogsitter Mel with daughter Ofek

Photo 3
Hockey buddies - Neev and Ezra

Photo 5
Jeez it's hard to edge without edges

Photo 6
Ezra glowing on the ice

Photo 7
Whow! It's even hot on the ice here

Photo 8
Mel's son Shalev - these Cdn cousins are crazy!

Photo 9
Mel's place

Photo 10
Never met a tree I didn't love to climb

Photo 11
Hey, this kibbutz food's not bad

Photo 12
pool entrance?

Photo 13
50 meters of swimming

Photo 14
the essence of cool

Photo 15
Hey, I've got this pool to myself!

Photo 16
Adin's don't mess with me look

Photo 17
Hey! What's did Adin put in my hair?!

Photo 18
In front of boys' school

Photo 20
flowers on Shabbat - the newest "minhag"