Dream Season

One night last week, I had two dreams in one night. My mind skipped back and forth between the two of them all night long. In fitful sleep, I imagined renting out space near a grocery store where I had noticed an available storefront, and I was selling imported towels from the States. (We have been missing the thick, luxurious towels from the US.) The other dream involved us living back in the states, in upstate New York, where we met up with random strangers and invited them to our house to study Torah and spirituality. (Living in upstate New York on a big farm is one of my husband's fantasies.)

The dichotomy between these two dreams is a paradigm in my unconscious that I struggle with. Part of me feels at home in a world where people don't appear to be lacking physically, and I feel that I have a niche- something to offer them in terms of Jewish learning and a more spiritual culture. On the other hand, being in Israel, I finally feel like I am living in a place where involvement in mundane activities is, in itself, a spiritual experience, and one where I feel worthy of those mundanities and I feel they are worthy of me.

It's ironic, really. Dozens of Olim with similar background to mine compete daily for the precious chinuch jobs, and many Israelis and Olim who couldn't make it here return to the states to go into business there, but this is how I've been experiencing this place. I also feel that there is such an overflowing of religion here that I have little to add or contribute. Surely I would have something, but I don't feel like I can compete with the culture. I sit on the bus, and I overhear an old woman who gave something to someone say, "It is not mine, it belongs to the Master of the World!" The power of such a conversation- to overhear this humbles me to no end. I am in love with the culture that can produce that sentiment from strangers, who will give freely of their physical possessions in that way, and I feel unworthy of it.

I ask God to please make me worthy of this country. Let it rub off on me. Help me learn he language- not only in vocabulary and grammar (although that would be a great start), but its expressions and turns of phrase that are often so rich with meaning and history. And give me the inner wisdom to reject what I don't need from the culture here, and to find my own way, and help my family find our way here.

First experience with the medical system here

Unfortunately, Lev has been sick for the last couple days-- he has been teething, and feverish. Plus, he has this cold that has been getting worse, and with it, making the fever and teething worse. So after a couple of days of this, my husband and visiting mother (yay for visiting family!) insisted that it was time to bring him to a doctor.

The first thing to know is that when I stepped in there, I didn't have any expectations, so whatever happened, I went with it, to a point. I gave the receptionist our tourist insurance, and she took it and signed Lev in. 25 minutes later, the PA woke up my sleeping child to send him through triage and weigh him, and determine that he is not really a priority for this Terem today. So we proceeded to wait for another hour and a half, until we were graced with a room. Then, more waiting for the doctor to appear. Finally, right? This is the moment! Ok- Israeli doctors are not masters of bedside manner. Not once did anyone during this whole process ask me my name. Ok- doctor checks patient, and mumbles a couple questions, complaining that I did not know what his temperature had been.

Then, doctor asks, out of no where, does Lev take barzel? I was totally thrown off by the question- I couldn't figure out why he was asking that, but he went on to check out the situation. He tells me that he will take a blood test with a finger prick. "where?" I ask. "here," he responds, annoyed by the question. More waiting. Then, after waiting with Lev for another 20 minutes, he starts to venture out of the room, and I follow him. The doctor sees me and asks me, surprised, "your still waiting?" The woman who is taking blood samples sees me, and immediately has us sit down in a completely different place for the blood test. They don't appear to have an efficient system worked out for what happens next, but eventually, they ask me to clear my stuff out of the room, since they need it, and to wait on a bench for the test results.

So, after three hours, I find out that Lev has a viral infection, but that his lungs and ears are clear- I only know about that last part because I asked specifically, and the doctor reluctantly mumbled a response.
I have heard from people that Terem is not the best place to get healthcare, but here's the thing. After all the waiting and terrible bedside manner from the doctor and inefficient system that got us a result that we should keep on giving Acamole- the Israeli version of Tylenol, to keep the fever down, something incredible happened. They printed out some helpful rules about fever and Tylenol, and then behind it, they gave me a copy of the doctor's notes, as well as the test results! What a progressive, incredible thing! While Israel has much to learn from the US, here is something that I have been wanting my whole life. Of course! We should always get a copy of our test results and the doctor's notes as part of the deal. That basically made up for all the craziness.

Lev finally got to go back to sleep after all that, and he continues to teeth and have a cold, but we're hoping he'll beat this thing soon. I wore him while I walked to Superpharm to get him some saline for his cold, as per the advice of our pediatrician back in the states on previous occasions. It's just a good thing that the air in the land of Israel heals the sick.

Kum Vehithalech Ba'aretz: "Get up and walk the land!"

When we planned this trip, we said we were not going to get a car. Number one, we did not want to have to drive around Israelis- especially not in Jerusalem! The news doesn't report car accidents here, but they take many more lives than the terrorism that is in the news every day. But I also had this feeling that walking around Israel would just be better, on some deeper level. Over the last two weeks, I have been thinking a lot about what it is that makes walking around in Israel so powerful. I think I haven't evolved to take life in at 50 miles an hour- or even at 25 miles an hour (or kilometers, but I still haven't gotten used to those). The world passes us by so quickly when we're in a car, and we need to be thinking about cars and traffic laws, and we inevitably have music or some radio station playing with the windows closed.

Granted, I walked around Jerusalem, wandering with two children in a double stroller and one in a backpack, in the rain, dragging around a duffel full of pots and pans, looking for a mikva in which I could ritually immerse my dishes. We wandered the city for several hours, only to find an enormous swamp-like puddle which I saw fit to use as a mikva for our dishes. (I later found out that there is a beautiful, brand new mikva around the corner from us, but that's besides the point.) I understand that when we rented a car for a few days, it did not take an entire day to do one errand, but I am not sure that being productive is all it's cracked up to be. We're all in such a rush to accomplish so many things, be in touch with so many people, go to so many places. I think taking a walk and focusing on a single task at a time is a luxury that many of us have forgotten how to enjoy. There is a kind of beauty in its simplicity. Now that Tikva started Gan, and it's a 25 minute walk from our house, the car has grown in its appeal, since the regular commute first thing in the morning especially, is a drag. A part of me wants to see it through, though-- for the experience. Even without listing the many health benefits, it seems like walkers live a more contemplative, rich life. I want to be a walker.