Aliyah Diary 4: First Day of School

Miss the first entries?
See Part 1: Preparation for departure over here.
See Part 2: First Few Days
See Part 3: Moving In

Things I Wish I Knew

A lot has been going on since my last diary entry. One of my main purposes is to share with people information about “what it is really like” and the “little things” which no one tells you about because they just don’t think about them or don’t think they are important enough to single out.

For example, on food products, I’ve written that it is more difficult to figure out your calorie, fat, and sugar intake because the labels are written as “per 100 grams” and I don’t weigh my food. However, they have these red and white stickers on the front telling you if the product is high in sugar, fat, or salt. It’s a short-hand reminder that what you are about to eat isn’t a great food choice. In America I’d be like … how dare you invade my privacy and tell me what to think. In Israel, it just seems like a good idea.

Incidentally, blue and white stripped curbs mean you can park there and fire hydrants don’t take away parking spots. Rather, they are placed on the opposite side of the sidewalk from the street and are much taller than American ones so firefighters don’t have to bend down. There are a lot of smart things like that – stop signs … haven’t seen any. There are roundabouts so traffic flow never stops and accidents, when there are any, are along the side of cars rather than one hitting directly into another – they’re safer. Also, no alternate side of the street parking (maybe it’s in some cities?).

Actually, I’m really enjoying my time here – it’s quite different than the nervousness I had leading up to arriving. It will probably be years before I can go back and read part 1 of this diary.

First Day of School

There’s the cutest elementary school ^.

Okay – it’s not all roses. Today was the first day of school for my kids and myself (Ulpan – Hebrew classes). We’ll start with my kids – high school teachers are on strike. (How is that a thing?) My high school child went anyway and sat it on a different class where a teacher … taught.

High schools starts in either 9th or 10th grade depending on what city you live in. They have “megama’s” which you’re not supposed to call a “major” though it’s . . . where you choose one subject to focus on. Depending on the size of the school, the megama can be biology, physics, art, coding, biotech, and numerous other science and art fields. One of my daughters is choosing art and another wants to choose biotech. This means you’re kind of locked in – they don’t even let you switch after the first few weeks so that’s your course of study for three years.

Some high school student art ^.

America is like, “you need a little of everything to be well-rounded so take all this stuff you’ll never need” and Israel is like, “get to the point – take the thing you’ll be an expert in and that’s it.” It’s so Israel – tachlus!

I think I’m somewhere in the middle on this. Chemistry and physics is still useful even if you major in art and vice versa. I want to know art and physics and want my kids to appreciate all fields of learning too, yet, they don’t need to read Wuthering Heights or Beowulf. No 10th grader actually understands Beowulf anyway. It needs a translation.

For English speakers they also have high level English classes … meaning, comparable to what there is in the United States. There’s a certain number of requirements to graduate and classes are on a point scale, up to 5 points. Americans are automatically at the “5 point” English level and can technically graduate with nothing else, I think. Any immigrant student, arriving from first grade up, gets free points on tests – the country is very immigrant-centric.

Other things about schools – girls schools usually have uniform shirts – the secular and the religious. The religious schools have tznious baseball shirts with different color arms and knee length black skirt. Obviously, depends on the school though it seems to be universal that they have an insignia ironed on for each school. I stood in line at “Stoochie”, after getting a haircut from “Dudi” ($19), to get the insignia ironed on some shirts ($4/ea) by a lady with a sleeveless t-shirt that said “New Jersey” on it.

The school policy in middle and high school says they took five points off your grade for tznious violations and lateness to class. We’re not sure if it’s true or not though such a thing in America would be so – not – a thing. How can you punish someone for that, or make a person feel bad. Things seem more ‘fluid’ here rather than strict, ironically or perhaps not.

Clothing Observations

Sandals are very popular around here. I bought a pair myself before arriving and I’m wearing them every day whereas it wouldn’t fit in so much back in my community in the United States. They’re comfortable and cool (both meanings). However, no one else seems to wear them with black socks. I will find my blood brother one day.

Further, even secular Jews seem to be dressed modestly – both men and women. By that I mean there’s nothing showy or flashy. Few people are wearing anything full of graphics or meant to be eye-catching. Sure, we’re not talking about modest dress al-pi-halacha, though there is a certain sense of modesty regardless. It could be this is different in other parts of Israel, though that’s my experience where I am around Modiin.

On this topic, I have seen very, very few obese people. Most people look fit and few are even overweight. There are certain segments of society here which are more like America though for loshon hora purposes, you’ll have to guess. People here are, in my view, more attractive. Not as much as my wife or anything like that. It’s not fair to compare others to her though.

Ulpan

Okay, so after that digression, this is an article about the first day of school, right? Right.

My first day was today … 9am on a Sunday? Six weeks of ulpan and then I get to have my American-style Sundays back. After a typical Israeli-style, “how close did the GPS get me there this time?” I came to a closed gate, walked around and found an entrance and followed a sign with the red arrow towards the something-something Klita – I’m going to the something-something Klita! for. A woman stands in the doorway, spreads her arms from post to post, and blocks my entrance. Then she walks me back to the front door. Oh come on. Right building, wrong entrance. So close.

I walk in and a woman I’d spoken to on the phone and email to sign up starts chatting with me in English and Hebrew to size up how well I can speak (in Hebrew, I hope). She says “you’ll go to level gimmel” (level 3). That’s the highest. Nah ah. If it’s not right, I can switch – that’s a thing. I do as I’m told because this woman is not my wife and now sitting at a desk among a row of desks like a child on his first date of school, I realize that when I have to ask the guy next to me what’s going on, this isn’t good. The handout comes next and looks like my kids homework from 3rd grade that I can’t do. This isn’t the right place for me.

I go down to level beit (level 2) and it’s still scary … then they have everyone can up one at a time in front of the class and talk about themselves in Hebrew. This successfully puts us at ease because you’re learning about others there, asking the speaker questions, and seeing that like golf, there’s always someone better than you and always someone worse than you. (On my one try at golf in high school I defied physics and hit the ball which traveled between my legs and hit my friend standing behind me – and I wasn’t the worst one there.)

Some observations about my class: the new olim were from many different places: Casablanca, France, Russia, Moldova, Atlanta, New Jersey (a few of us), and New York. We all seem to have kids and many of them. We were almost all religious – perhaps all. Can’t always tell though most everyone was wearing a yarmulke or tichel of some kind (never both – I used that joke already).

I stink at learning language though I’m trying to pick up some new words each time – Google translate helped me ask the Moroccan if it was safe (kesefet) to wear a yarmulke there and he said in most places, yes. The Abraham Accords enable him to come to Israel now. I asked about ages … “gil” is age. Those are my two words for today, and to help myself re-enforce, we’re supposed to study “l’hitmagein”, as in “l’hitmagen pisenter” and “‘hitchonan” – to prepare.

Ulpan goes from 8:30 to 12:45 every day and you’re supposed to stay for a small group until 1:30 once a week or more.

Shabbos experience

I spent my first Shabbos in my new community. I was reading the Jerusalem Post that day and saw the candle lighting time for Jerusalem. Oh my … 15 minutes to go! Ran in and out of the shower and booked it to the main shul in my community. Got there and the door is locked. Is minyan downstairs? No … what is going on here? On the other side of the plaza is the sefardi shul … there are about six guys sitting around a table, probably learning Torah.

Then it hit me. Jerusalem lights candles 40 minutes before shkiyah (nightfall)! The rest of the country lights 18 minutes before. I was super early and so chatted with the gabbai until we started. In the U.S. if you look at the candle lighting time for Brooklyn, Lakewood, Monsey … wherever around there it’s maybe a minute or two difference in each. This was an Israel-only experience. (Side note: The Satmar Rav wanted candle lighting time to be 15 minutes before shkiyah so Jews who didn’t keep Shabbos would have 3 minutes less of not keeping Shabbos. He was outvoted and so it’s 18 minutes in the United States.)

Then .. .they have “shale shudes” (seudat shishi) at the same time as Minchah. That is, the 3rd meal of Shabbos is during the afternoon prayers. Can’t wrap my head around this … we eat seudat shlishi after Minchah in America. Turns out that’s another Israel thing – holding like the Vilna Goan – Minchah is at the first possible time, as soon as the afternoon starts and not when it is ending. Sure enough, my host for lunch pauses lunch and we go out for Minchah … which brings me to another experience …

During Covid, neighbors gathered on the street to daven together. They like it and they’re still doing it. About five houses down the street at a corner, I find minchah and maariv every night. (In shul they wait about 20 minutes between them so as to say the Shema after nightfall … which is a better thing to do). The outdoor minyanim don’t wait so I go there. Tonight we didn’t have a minyan because someone had a wedding which took some neighbors with it. No problem … we walk one more block to another and join with those on that block. Together we have a minyan.

“Is it safe?” (kasefet, right?) [later edit: no, it’s not – it’s batuach]

“You went to a Catholic law school – surely not with your yarmulke?” asks a South African. Yes, of course I could.

“What about Columbia University? Is the US still safe for Jews?” Sigh. Yes.

Yet Americans asked me, I told them, … “you’re going to Israel? It it safe?”

To which another South African added in there, “we had big barbed wire fences around our properties with guards for safety. Here, big deal, we hear a siren every once in a while and you think it’s not safe?”

Pretty much.

Using the healthcare

One of my daughters got sick – we took her to emergency care. In America … fill out a bunch of paperwork and wait for a bill of unknown size. In Israel … swipe your kids’ insurance card in a machine, take a number and sit. I went motzei Shabbos (Saturday night) and a woman who think was the doctor comes it after we’re waiting about 10 minutes … she’s wearing pajamas.

Then to go to a pharmacy … they all closed by 11pm except those in the Arab cities. Do I want to chance it in Ramallah for a cough syrup? Maybe because my wife will kill me if I come home without it. I didn’t chance it because I had to get up for Ulpan early Sunday morning so I took the heat.

Now for prescriptions – you can only go to a pharmacy for your health insurance company, of which there are four companies. Or – you can go to SuperPharm which is a national chain that fills for any health insurance company for the same price. I don’t get it.

Choosing a gym

My next task was to find a gym. I live in a suburb of Modiin – a Yishuv. Modiin is city we read about when I took Hebrew in college. I had decided then if I moved to Israel, it’s where I’d want to be. It’s centrally located between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, modern, and well designed for cars. About 30% are “Anglos” (from English speaking countries). You don’t get extra points for making aliyah difficult so this is a good place for me. Modiin is where I need to go to find a gym.

Google maps shows me which ones are around … some are ‘real’ gyms and some are ‘we have a large mat for woman to zumba around their pilates until you rinse and put in the dishwasher’. Others are, ‘we have two bench pressed in a small room pained in black with guys that grunt.’ There are some with water parks (?) that don’t seem to be centered on what I’m looking for, one which, when you call, you can’t reach a human. They text you a link to contact them on Whatsapp where you have the equivalent of “Our menu options have changed; please listen to all the choices and smash your face against the 8 key until someone answers and hangs up on you.” Kind of what happened – I hit the numbers for “I want to join” and two days later, while I’m in ulpan, someone calls me back. I declined the cll and call them back during the break and get another text message to use Whatsapp.

Hence, I joined a gym called “Profit” while listening to galgalatz radio playing a song, “I love you because you pay the rent.” They mean the name to be a conglomeration of “Professional Fitness” though I do hope they turn a profit. It’s about $43/month with $20 signup fee. They were up front with fees, cancellation policy (send them an email; cancel one month before you end) and all in all it’s not much different than in America except they seem honest.

The gym is kind of like a less nice L.A. Fitness for a little less price. Machines are all labeled in English as are the motivational signs on the wall. Some of the machines have pounds on them, though the weights are calibrated in kilograms. The showers and locker rooms are a separate door from the toilets – strange. Elliptical machines have lower handles than in the U.S. – and they are multi-lingual. Choose your language. All in all, it’s pretty similar to an American gym.

Where is the Gym?

I turn right into a side road parallel to the main road and find parking along a blue/white curb with fire hydrant and look around. I ask people here and there – “it’s upstairs somewhere” … “what floor” … “I don’t know”. I walk to the bathroom and look up – there’s a small sign in the window. Ah. Everything in Israel is like a secret that you better really want because they aren’t coming after you. In America it’s like … my sign is bigger and brighter than yours – check me out.

I walk through the door with the red circle, which apparently doesn’t mean “do not enter” over here (maybe it does? Whatever – it’s Israel) and there we are. I check it out and on my second travels to the gym I’m feeling like a champ. I find it right away and take the stairs to the second floor. (If Farside teaches you anything it should be that you don’t take an elevator to the gym and you don’t push on a door that says ‘pull’. The door to the locker room says ‘pull’ and I pushed … to be fair, it’s written in a different language … with words I know.)

Downstairs from the gym I had lunch for about $6 – some Yemenite bread that gets cooked overnight along with an egg. It’s times like these that I appreciate that I’ll try anything. Kosher food abounds and is always good.

Memorization all over again

I still remember phone numbers from elementary school friends … 5108, 7553, 1064 … (giving last four digits only). Why oh why did I etch those in my brain so well taking up precious space in there? Now there are a new set of codes: code to the safe, code to the car, code to the other car, Israel ID number, my own phone number, and dagnabut, I don’t even remember what other codes I have to remember. Then there are the 100 people who have introduced themselves to me in the community. One guy got it right: “you won’t remember my name anyway, ask again next time” – I don’t remember his name.

Trick: when I put them in my phone I put them with some comment so I can associate them – e.g. “Jose Martinez gym guy” because he told me about the gyms. (His name isn’t actually Jose Martinez … it’s something like Murray Applebaum or Blackula or something that I don’t remember.)

Client from Aza (Gaza)

New potential client from Gaza – he’s in Turkey studying. I tell him I’m glad he’s safe and asks me over and over where I’m from, did I always live there, etc. I finally ask him, “Are you asking this because I’m Jewish?” I reassure him I do business with plenty of Arabs and give examples … this guy who sells hookah, that guy who sells hookah, that guy who rips of that guy who sells hookah who turns out to be my partner’s client so it’s a conflict of interest … and a company that certifies hallal food. (I mainly told him about the latter.) I'”‘d like to do business with him regardless of where he’s from. I am hoping to actually hear his perspective and let him see Jews as people. I don’t think he’ll call me again.

Random tidbits

Someone told me that when you’re buying gas and paying with USD, you have to use full service and it’s worth it over having to do a currency transfer to Israel. Yes! New Jersey-ians don’t pump their own gas. I’m saved!

The window blinds are amazing here – complete blackout of a room. Also, we had a blackout during havdalah. Power came back on not long after. Black out was community wide … gives you more of this, “we’re all in it together” vibe that you don’t often get in America. I live in a Shomer Shabbos community where the streets are closed on Shabbos … I love it.

Payment services: there are two different apps that people use – PayBox and Bit. IF you know the other person’s bank account number, you can send money very quickly and easily like Zelle in the United States. With Bit, they have an easy way to split a bill though it rounds up and there’s a shyla about ribbis with it (which I think you can be maikel with… ask a Rabbi).

The value of the Israeli Shekel to the U.S. Dollar seems to be proportional to how the war is going over here. If it looks like Iran is going to attack, the shekel weakens. If it looks like Iran has been deterred, the shekel gets stronger. Puts me in awkward position when my money is in dollars and war saves me money.

Money has been deposited in my account from the government – I get monthly payments as an oleh hadash. It’s not an insignificant amount, either.

Celsius is stupid.

Ever say to a child, “guess a number from -10 to 35?” No, no you haven’t. You say, “guess a number from 1 to 100.”

Celsius is stupid.

Feeling what I don’t want to feel

When I came to Israel I decided I wasn’t going to get emotionally attached to “the trauma” because I don’t want the trauma.

This morning I read about six bodies of hostages recovered. Didn’t seem all that shocking to me. We know, unfortunately, many have been killed. Yet I get to ulpan and one of the teachers is very upset – didn’t you hear the news? I wasn’t even sure what she was upset about so I said ‘no’. She repeated what I had read in distress (at the time it was only known that bodies were found – not much else).

Later that day in the gym I’m listening to galgalatz and I suddenly I understand the Hebrew – they are naming each of the six who were killed, where they were from, and where their funerals are today and at what time. I know those places. I’ve been to all of them. This isn’t someone killed in a shooting in Chicago. This is your family. B’yachad n’netzach.

Go to Entry 5: Two weeks In …