There is no jay-walking in Venice

Well hello there,

It has apparently been awhile. I just got to Rome for the last leg of my trip (I am coming home on Thursday!) and since I once again have access to a computer, I thought I would update you.

I spent last week in Florence which was fantastic. Shabbat there was sooo much nicer then Rome! The Chabad is really welcoming and hosts a big meal for everyone and I met all kinds of cool people. Many an Israeli, of course, but also a girl from Australia and two from Brazil. We all hung out Shabbat afternoon and then again Saturday night and I just couldnt believe what a huge difference it was from my experience in Rome.

I spent most of the week wandering around Florence (such a beautiful city) checking out churches and art museums :) The australian girl (Sharona) and I also took a daytrip out to Siena and got to see their amazing Cathedral- which was especially exciting because as opposed to all the frescoes cielings everywhere else, the big attraction here was the intricately mosaiced floors. It was a nice break for my neck since I spend so much time staring up.

I also got to enjoy some kosher restauranting and a night at the opera. It wasn't exactly the Kennedy Center, just a woman singing some arias in a church, but she was absolutely fantastic. The big bummer was that on Tuesday- the day I got a reservation for the Uffizi in one of my few moments of planning ahead- Florence went on strike and all the museums were closed. I almost cried when I saw the sign but then I saw everyone protesting and it seemed like it was something important so I gave them the benefit of the doubt and cheered on the unions or whoever they were. I did however have to cancel my daytrip to Cinque Terre since I only had one day left in Florence and there was no way I was not going to the Uffizi. (Where, by the way I spent 3.5 hours and it was worth every minute I had to wait in line).

From Florence I headed to Venice for Shabbat. I had about a 15 minute walk from the train station to my hostel and with my giant tbag on my back I felt like a teenage elephant in a neverending glass shop. My hostel was the most interesting one I have been in yet. It had very mixed reviews online but was the only one I could find in my price range near the synagogue so there wasnt really another option. The staff is very friendly and the environment is very open. So open in fact, that there aren't really doors anywhere within the hostel. Nor lockers in which to lock up your stuff. They had a very nice common area there and I met some very  ccool and interesting people, but I left my wallet and valuables with some of the Israeli girls I met last week in their hotel.

Anyway, Shabbat was fantastic. The chabad there hosts Shabbat meals in the one kosher (and fantastic) restaurant- Gam Gam. I ate dinner on the canal at a table with over 100 people. The food was amazing, the people (mostly Israeli) were very interesting and friendly and the Chabad people themselves were chatting and singing and really just encouraging a wonderful environment. I also enjoyed shul, as this was the first synagogue that wasnt built for 500 people and being used by 15. I could actually hear the chazzan! (who I had made friends with on Friday).

The only downside of this past weekend was that I dislocated my toe, and am now kind of limping. So I have a few more days in Rome and then I am headed back to Israel and I must admit, I am ready to come home. I feel that I have gained so much from this adventure and I am so happy with where I am right now, but I am ready to get back to my life, or rather get started in a new city, a new apartment, and a new school.

Io Contadina Toscana

Thats right! I speak Italian now! Or at least, I can now say "I am a Tuscan farmer" as well as "Please pass the oil" and "Come on!"

I now get to say I am a Tuscan farmer as I have spent the past week and a half pruning and clearing the olive trees in Chianti country. I get up at 6 and feed the chickens and water the garden and walk the dogs (Oz and Charlie) and then head out to the olive fields and attack thorny brambles encroaching on the olive trees and climb up into the trees and cut out all the extra branches. I have become an expert tree climber and scythe-wielder. The thorns tremble when I approach. Around 11ish, I head back to the house, done with my farming for the day :) I then get to nap, swim in the pool, hang out with the family, and work in the studio. So, it is pretty much the best vacation ever.

And the best part is the people. The family is made up of Pascal and Kirsten and their sons Oliver and Rudi. Pascal is a hot air balloon pilot and I woke up at 5 one morning to go watch them launch the balloon. So cool. Kirsten is an artist and one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Aside from giving me free reign in her studio and introducing me to monoprintmaking, we have the most fascinating conversations about art and life and God and nature and she is truly expanding my mind. I adore her. Oliver is also pretty wonderful. He has a forge where he makes knives and such and he brought me in and let me hammer out some steel with him. He walks around half naked all the time with his hair hanging down his back and just seems one with the farm. Oh, and he is part of a Medieval sword fighting group that came for the weekend and I got to see them dress up and swordfight. Which was pretty cool. Rudi is 17 and very much a moody teenager. He also insists on speaking Italian all the time even though he does speak English. This doesn't stop him from being hilarious- I never have any idea what he is saying but his sound effects and facial expressions make it highly entertaining regardless. On top of the family, their friend Costina and her son Sebasiano (10) were here for the past week. Costina is the one that went out in the groves with me when the family had to go ballooning in the mornimg. She is a masseuse and Reiki healer and I got to learn all sorts of fascinating things about healing with energy (as well as getting a free session). Sebastiano only speaks Italian and follows Oliver around like a puppy, but he is super sweet and taught me all kinds of useful words like "burning" and "good night".

This past week as I fell into the rhythm of the farm I found that each one of these people have amazing things to teach me and I know that I have learned so much here. In addition, I have had a chance to teach them so much about Israel and Judaism- things they knew nothing about. I am loath to leave on Friday, but I sense that this time is coming to an end and as I cannot actually move here, it is time I moved on. I will be coming back though, for I have made relationships that are not limited to this short vacation.

I head to Florence on Friday and I am not sure how I will do switching back into tourist mode. I am looking forward to Shabbat in Florence, as the Chabad Rabbi will be around and I am ready for some meals that I don't have to halachically analyze to figure out what is kosher. I made Shabbat here this past week, and while it was a truly holy experience and I got to teach them all about Shabbat and introduce them to Challah and Havdalah, it was a little hard to have to keep saying, "sorry, I cant do that today".

Anyway, I am super happy and so glad that I decided to incorporate this farm into my time in Italy- I think this is an experience that has really changed my life.

Hope you are all surviving earthquakes and hurricanes and all the other craziness that is going on in the world while I am cocooned in the sweet countryside.

I laugh hysterically whenever I realize I am about to spend a month in Italy!

Ahhhh I am going to Italy in a week and a half!!!!

I spent all day yesterday finding and booking hostels in Venice, Rome, and Florence which a) made me realize how much money I will be spending on this vacation and b) made me realize I am leaving so so soon!! I kind of can't believe that I am really doing this. :D I also contacted the Chabad houses in Venice, Rome, and Florence, but I am still missing plans for one Shabbat, so if anyone has any suggestions, please share!

In other news, I was incredibly productive this week- I paid my tuition, opened my student file so that hopefully the government will pay me back for said tuition. I finally got through the licensing administration and had my first driving lesson. I will hopefully be able to take the test next week but it might have to wait until I get back from Italy. My driving instructor wants me to review the Israeli laws (he told me that the laws here are different then in America, where we can turn left on red. ?)

And the most exciting part of my week- Alon turned one!! I got to skype with him- which was super fun. He may have been more interested in smacking the keyboard than talking to me, but I still got to bask in his adorableness. 

Anyway, I am headed into Jerusalem for Shabbat with my friends. I hope you all have a wonderful Shabbat and week.

My encounters with the law

Ah yes, I promised you tales of my travails last week- so here is another story about Israeli bureaucracy.

So the big thing on my list right now is transferring my driver's license. As you may remember, I tried to do this before I left for America but the issue date on MD licenses is not the day you originally got your license, but the day you got that specific piece of plastic. This was a problem for me because my issue date was post-aliyah, thanks to that lovely day when I lost my wallet in Tel Aviv. (And you can only transfer a license if you had gotten it before you made aliyah). Anyway, I had to get a paper from the MVA while I was in America that said when I got my original license. It turns out they don't actually put this on your permanent driving record (It is listed as a "change of address") but when I went to the MVA they told me the only way to get that paperwork was for them to pull my original application off of microfilm, which would take longer than I had. 

Anyway, last week I went armed with my license and my MVA paperwork hoping that the English would confuse them enough that I could convince them that my paperwork was sufficient. Unfortunately, I spent so much time worrying about this little piece of paper that I forgot another one- my Teudat Oleh (Immigration certificate.) That was annoying, but fine, I would just go home and get it and go back the next day. So I went home. And I opened my nice orange file thing where I keep all that important stuff- and my teudat oleh was not there. I then ransacked my room, unpacked all of my suitcases, went through the garbage, went into Jerusalem and went through the apartment I had rented for a month, and finally came to the conclusion that I had lost my teudat oleh. Crap.

So I went online to figure out how one goes about getting a new one. It is a two step process (sounds simple, right?): 
1) I have to go to court and testify that I lost it.
2) I have to schedule an appointment with the Ministry of Immigration to get a new one.

Right, okay, go to court. Now, um, where do I find one of those?

Well after a few phone calls and some vague directions I figured out where the courthouse was and even got the required paperwork filled out before I left. So Wednesday morning comes about and I am of course running late getting out of the house. I catch a tremp into Jerusalem and as we enter the city I see the bus I need pull away from the stop. Luckily, the car I am in passes it and lets me out at the next intersection. Unluckily, this is one of those intersections where you have to wait for 5 different lights to cross one street. And more unluckily, when I ran across the red one, I ran right into the police officer waiting to ticket fools like me. And there goes the bus. I am somewhat ashamed to say that I played dumb American to get out of that ticket, Anyway, I finally got on a bus and found the courthouse and I still had about 40 minutes to get to work. Eek. 

At this point, I am standing in the information line behind a woman who simply refuses to move. She is not getting what she wants so she insists on simply standing there until the nice lady who cannot help her, does what she wants. The security guards come and she brushes them off. The other guy in line begs her to just go upstairs like they say, and finally, after what feels like forever, she leaves. I get up to the counter, get sent upstairs, wait in another line, finally get into the office and the lady says to me "This is not where you belong. Why did they send you here?" Really, lady? Like I know why information sent me to you? Im just doing what I am told and trying to get someone to stamp this darn paper because I have to be at work in 15 minutes.

As it turns out, the guy I need was standing right next to the front door. He has a little booth there and I walked right by him. So he's pretty cool, stamps my paper, takes some money, and I manage to walk out of the courthouse 1 minute late for work. Luckily, they are cool and were alright with my showing up 15 minutes late.

Anyway, I am on to step 2 this week. Lets hope it goes well because after that I get to dive back into the Israeli MVA and I am sure that will be a blast.

I GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL!!

Woohoo!! Now I can stop worrying about not having a Plan B (I tried Ima, but I could come up with nothing better than becoming a hippie and farm-hopping across Italy) (Yes, I am already doing that, but not for the whole year).

I got an email on Tuesday that confused me a little but after some pondering, I decided it was, in fact, an acceptance letter. I will re-enact the conversation that went on in my head:

"Welcome to the Art Therapy Department"

I got in! and then, wait, or are they just saying hi?

Then the email asked me to fill out a form for my internship placement next year

Wait, so I got in?

"This is not your official acceptance letter- that will be coming from the main office of the University"

But I got in, right?

So I stared at the email for awhile, put it into Google Translate to make sure I was understanding it, and then decided, yes, this must be what an acceptance letter looks like. So starting on the 17th of October, I will be learning all sorts of fun things about mental disorders and art and some less fun things about research methods and scientific writing. This also means that I can now officially start looking for a home and could be moving as early as August 1!

In other news, at some point between yesterday (my Hebrew birthday) and Tuesday (my English birthday) I am crossing that line into 25-hooddom. I will be a quarter of a century old. As my 16 year old roommate told me- I am approaching the hill. So of course, I wanted to celebrate by throwing myself a party in a park with a moonbounce and gift bags and a giant ice cream cake. Unfortunately, I make about 600 shekel a month and am about to spend all of my savings on a vacation in Italy. So as much as I wanted a moonbounce, I settled for dinner at a restaurant with my good friends. Might splurge on an ice cream cake on Tuesday- after all, what better way to break a fast. (Note to God- what are you trying to say by dropping my birthday off on a fast day every year? I really haven't been partying that hard, you know!). I also just got my birthday present from my sister and her family and, I must say, nothing makes you as happy as your one year old nephew's signature on your birthday card :)

I have further travails I will regale you with next week because this is a happy email and I would like to keep it that way. As I was tremping (hitchhiking) into Jerusalem last night I had one of those moments of clarity where I just felt really lucky to be who I am and where I am at this moment. I think 25 is going to be a great year.

In the words of the great sage, Noam

"Nizrom" is one of the most important words I have learned while living in Israel. It means "to flow" but is generally used as "just go with it". It is helpful when you get lost or, more importantly, when you just don't know where you are going. As I nervously await news from U of Haifa and try not to worry about my life plan, I find myself frequently muttering "Nizrom" to myself and trying to shake off my stress. Though really, it is an attitude that is just crucial to living here.

For instance, on Sunday I went hiking in Ein Gedi with my friends Rami and Krystel, who were here on vacation. First we got on a bus with the craziest driver I have ever met. He rushed us all on to the bus as if he wasn't 20 minutes early telling us we could pay him later. Then, when I went up to pay him while he was driving like a maniac through the desert, his bus ticket machine was broken and he took my money without giving me a ticket. I later found out that he overcharged us. We ended up getting off at the wrong stop and found ourselves at a spa next to the Dead Sea- but alright, Nizrom. We caught another bus back and managed to start out hike just as the sun was at it's peak. Now there are two ways (that I know of) to hike Ein Gedi. The first is to go in through the entrance and wander up some waterfalls to more waterfalls and then back again. The second is to climb up the mountain a bit, then some more, then wander through the dry shade-less planes, through the dry boiling wadi and eventually down to those nice fresh waterfalls. We, of course, did the second one. Our hike alternated between near death and amazingness. We climbed up the side of a desert mountain at noon, which wasn't the brightest idea, and I, at least, nearly got heatstroke (do you "get" heatstroke? are there varying levels of heatstroke? I am rather uninformed on this subject). We eventually found some shade and had some lunch and then climbed down the dry wadi to the most beautiful view of the lush waterfalls below and the Dead Sea beyond. However, we could only see the waterfalls, and at about this point, we ran out of water (I know, very bad planning on our part). So we climbed back out of the wadi and eventually stumbled upon a stream which we deemed clean enough to drink from by using the very advanced method of looking at the water. (It's okay, it was totally safe to drink, we found out later.) This got us through the last dry stretch until we got to the waterfalls at the bottom and fell in. That part was heaven. And the truth is, at the end, it was an amazing hike, because I was with two people who just took everything in stride- as American as they may be, they've got the "Nizrom" mentality down pat.

The rest of the week felt wonderfully usual. I worked during the day, hung out with friends at night, got a sufficient amount of things done on my "To Do" list, and had some down time to read my book (it's in Hebrew!). It felt stable, and home-like, which is a really good for me in a time when I feel like my life is so up in the air. But, yalla, Nizrom.

Sometimes I have delayed emotional reactions

Do you ever cruise along on supreme confidence until the moment when you need it most and you suddenly find yourself overwhelmingly nervous?

Well that is pretty much what happened to me when I went to Haifa for my interview this week. Though I have known that nothing was official and keep meaning to come up with a Plan B, I have not actually done that because deep down inside I was pretty confident that I would have no problem getting into this Master's program. I even tried to get nervous the night before because I felt like I should be, but couldn't quite get it. Even though my bus took 45 minutes and I was nearly late, I was still doing okay. That is until I sat down with the other 15 women who had been called for this interview and eavesdropped on their conversation. Which was all about how hard it is to get into the art therapy program and how many of them were there for the second year, having been rejected the year before. Oh, great.

Of course, at the moment the three professors (also women- apparently no men are interested in art therapy) who would be interviewing us came in. The interview would be split into two parts- an individual project and a group project- both with the objective of drawing a picture that represents what art therapy means. I had a pretty good idea for the individual part, creating what is called a "Feelings Map" that allows you to chart out your various emotions and their interactions without having to find the words for it. This is a big part of art therapy- expression without words, so I thought this was a great idea. That is, until we all reconvened to talk about out drawings and I realized I did not have that much to say. This was further aggravated by the fact that I had to go second and had stupidly been thinking in English this whole time. So I fumbled through a short explanation of my drawing and then proceeded to feel more and more stupid as I listened to these Israelis all say things that sounded really smart and well worded in Hebrew. Ugh.

So when we were split into three groups, I was determined to show the professor monitoring us that I was not a total nincompoop and was in fact capable of speaking Hebrew. I think I actually did pretty well on this one, in terms of working with the group and standing out as the spectacular individual that I am. I also approached the professors afterwards to explain that, though my Hebrew may not be perfect, I will work very hard to make sure it is not a problem. They did not seem at all concerned about my Hebrew, but I left feeling rather nervous regardless.

This was the last step to being accepted, so I will hopefully know within a few weeks. I guess I should thank my odd mental state for at least waiting until now to let me get nervous. At least its only a few weeks, right?

I have also started looking for apartments in Haifa. I am at that point where I would really like to unpack. And have a home. And feel grounded. But as that will not be happening for a few more months, I will throw myself into planning my Italy trip as a distraction.