Another Day

 Presently the war with Gaza is already in the past.  I feel like a hamster, going round and round on its wheel.  The same thing, for years now.  Rockets over the border, retaliations, 'targeted' killings, 'collateral damage, " (the killing of civilians and children) - a ceasefire, again and again and again.  What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting some kind of result?

So, war over, inflation, money going to the Haredi community, fighting in the coalition.  

Anyway, having said all that, I took the train the other day to Binyamina.  A friend from Zichron Yaakov was to pick me up.

At the railway station my ticket didn't work - the gates did not open, no matter which way I swiped. Some passersby also tried - nothing, no open sesame.  The young guard looking through peoples' luggage and handbags let me in.  To my surprise, it worked when I exited the station in Binyamina. My friend suggested we go to the transport office anyway, and I agreed. First we had coffee in their lovely apartment with windows overlooking the fields and valleys going down to the sea.  If it hadn't been so hot and dusty and hazy we would have seen the Mediterranean, but I did see it in my imagination, sparkling lapis blue and turquoise.  Off to the transport office.  A young woman with long painted nails, and puffed out lips took my card and tapped some keys on a computer.  

"ID card" she said.  I asked if something is wrong with my card.  Brusquely she said, 'it is not working" and without any further explanation  she made a new card and handed it to me.We strolled around the shops and galleries of Zichron and went to have lunch in Ramat HaNadiv - the gorgeous, well maintained gardens established by Baron Rothschild.  

Then it was time to return by train.  My ticket worked.  There was actually someone at the information window - the first time I have seen an official.  I asked her which train to take to Beit Yehoshua and she told me platform 3.  When I got there I realised she hadn't seen which number train to take and what its final destination was.  I looked at the notice board - names in Hebrew, Arabic, English repeated - somewhere I once saw Beit Yehoshua, but then didn't see it again.  A train pulled in - I had no idea if this is the train I should board.  The doors closed - some religious men ran toward it and got on, couldn't ask them.  Along ambled someone who vaguely looked like he might be a conductor - I asked him.He looked at me as if to say "what a nuisance you are" and pointed to the train with closed doors.  "How do I get on?"  I asked - rudely he said, find a green button.  I lost my composure - I said "I am new and I don't know how things work, would it hurt you to not be rude?"

I got to Beit Yehoshua and had to find a bus.  The guard letting people in sat at his post biting the nail on his forefinger, he proceed to bit the nail on his middle finger. I asked him where the buses are - "I don't know," he said chewing on his nail, "ask the person at information" he said, waving his hand in the direction of an empty office.

"There is no one to ask" I told him.  He shrugged and continued to his next nail.

Eventually a passenger told me where to go.  

It takes a lot of patience, living in Israel, and some days I just don't have it.

I took a taxi home.

A Day in the LIfe Of

 Or, rather, a couple of days in the life of ......

I may have mentioned before that life as we know it, begins in Israel on Sunday, and if I haven't, I have mean to ..... every week!

The weekday begins Sunday, and I find this very confusing.  By the time it is Tuesday I am sure it is Thursday.  Somehow the whole order of life with its routines just doesn't feel right.

This week I woke up on Sunday with a blood red right eye.  I looked like half a devil.  What is odd is that it is presently my left eye that is badly infected and I have been using antibiotic drops in it for a week. That eye I can't open in the morning as it is stuck together - all disgusting.  I cleaned my stuck left eye which opened and then I saw my devilish red eye.  I had no pain in it, and I could see, and anyway I knew I had an appt. with the eye doctor on Wednesday. I was OK with this - but I live in a place of opinionated people.  From my first public appearance I was bombarded with - ' go to the doctor,' 'go to the clinic,' 'call emergency' 'go to hospital' 'get an ambulance.'  I spent the day telling people that I had a doctor's appt. on Wednesday, I don't have an emergency, I am OK  LEAVE ME ALONE

Monday morning my eye was still red but my left eye felt like there might be something pressing on the eyeball, but I didn't see anything. In the afternoon, as I was diligently cleaning my eyes, I lightly pressed under the left eye, on the eyeline and a fountain of pus erupted.  I was HORRIFIED.  I cleaned and cleaned and applied compresses, canceled an appointment for the museum the next day and tended to this revolting situation.  I could still see, and I had the upcoming appt.  On Tuesday afternoon I arranged for a taxi to pick me up Wednesday morning at 8.30.  This was arranged through the reception in my presence. Tuesday morning I awoke to hear on the news that Israel had struck Gaza - civilians were killed.  Wednesday morning no further news, also no taxi.  I waited - then told reception and at the last minute another taxi came. 

Got to the doctor in the nick of time - surprise! infections.  Drops, treatment, caught a taxi back and lay down for 2 hours. I awoke to the news that rockets have been sent from Gaza to the center of Israel, and the activity that was planned for tonight  - Lag B'Omer - eating outside, singing, watching firedancers, has been cancelled. We know where our shelters are - planes are not allowed to fly into Israel. A war, again.

And it is only Wednesdayl ---

And that is a synopsis of a day in the life of .......

Some photos

 

It is the beginning of the season of platinum and gold. Spring is over.  These photos are of Mt. Tabor and the fields around the kibbutz.  A photo also of the cemetery, which is so lovely and peaceful.

It was good to be there. The memorial day ceremonies were sad and respectful - meaningful is perhaps the right word.  

I visited my friend Ziva and said goodbye to her also.

Tough Times

 The days between Holocaust Memorial Day and Yom Hazikaron (Israel Memorial Day) are never easy, certainly not for anyone who has suffered losses during these times. And unfortunately, there are way too many of us in Israel who are not personally affected.

However, this year, which marks 50 years since the Yom Kippur War, and 75 years since the birth of the State of Israel - the terrible political situation makes it much more difficult.

I will go to the Kibbutz - from the evening of Yom Hazikaron and will stay there through Yom Haatzmaut.

The ceremonies on the kibbutz are beautiful: dignified, respectful, no displays of nationalism or fanatacism.  The setting, in the beautiful Jezreel Valley in the late spring, could not be more idyllic. It will help me stave off the questions of 'what for?' and 'why.'  The what for has been relatively easy to answer until now.  The why is not a question that can be answered.  One simply lives with the reality of what happened, and I for one, am grateful for each moment I have been granted.

Sadly, the size of the cemetery in the Kibbutz is increasing.  This will be my first visit to my dear friend, Ziva's grave.  This is impossible to imagine, Ziva who was there for me from the moment Ray and I arrive on the kibbutz - who was there for me when we were told of his death, who was there for me on every Remembrance Day, whether or not I was in the country.  How we always laughed together, and cried together, and understood each other, throughout life's many vicissitudes.  I cannot fathom that she too, is in a grave. 

I understand that this is a rather morbid post, but goodness knows, we live in morbid times.

How I can only dream that peace will be upon us all.

A Snow Globe

 Okay, think of a snow globe that is NOTHING like a snow globe.  Rather it contains myriad particles of sand and dust, and dirt - and it has been shaken up and nothing inside is visible.  I stand and look at it from the outside, and wait for the different particles to settle down so that I can make out what is inside this globe. 

This is how the last year (and then some) has been for me - I have been shaken up, and yes, some particles have settled - on a physical level at least.  I like my home, the myriad of bureaucratic dealings are beginning to fall into place.  However, when I receive an email, or a SMS, or an actual letter, and have to fill in forms the inner turmoil takes over, maybe just a tiny bit less than previously but it is far from gone.  On a spiritual level - I feel I belong here. It is so good to be with my family and my close friends.  But there are times I feel I am between worlds.  My dreams certainly show me this.  The most recent theme is that I am with friends somewhere in America, either in a restaurant or at a cinema,  or driving somewhere, and suddenly I am lost.  I can't find anyone and I don't know where to go or whom I can ask for help. It is a struggle, and I wake and think, "oh, a dream," and then fall right back into it. Of course they are peopled by friends, by work colleagues, by patients, everyone and everything all jumbled up, and I can't find where I should turn to for help.

And then there is the dreadful reality of the Netanyahu government, the violence, the upheavals.  It is coming up to Memorial Day, and for me, and for everyone who has lost someone dear to them, the globe of dust is shaken up again and never quite settles, and all feels futile.

But there are moments also of everything feeling OK, especially like today when it rained a bit, and the air is cool again and dust free.

Tomorrow is the end of Passover.  Please let it be peaceful, even just for a day.

Bay Area Tryptich

These pastels are from photos I took over the last couple of years, while still living in the Bay Area. The current state of Israel is too upsetting to write about. Also, it is 100 degrees fahrenheit, so one doesn't feel like doing much!

Shabat

 Today is April Fool's Day.  In Hebrew it is Nisan - the month of spring, hope, renewal, passover.  The root of the word is Nes  (I am not kidding) which means miracle.

For me today the Nes is the quiet of shabat (where I live).  The cool air, the mild sun, the beautiful clouds, the fragrance of the trees and flowers that are blossoming. The pink blossoms of the almond trees, the uplifting fragrance of a shrub with light purple flowers whose name I do not know. The jasmine. The cooing of the doves, the chirping of the birds.  It truly does feel like a miracle amidst the turbulence and upheaval, the insecurity, and the fear that surrounds us.  We know we are on the very edge of a precipice, will we grasp and eat the strawberry, or will we fall to the bottom of the abyss?  Even the weather forecast portends the coming of a chamsin, (a heatwave) just in time for the seder.

So I choose to enjoy today, to walk outside, to sit on my balcony and read, and continue with my pastel painting.

Shabat shalom