I arrived home from a heritage trip to Poland a month ago, and I hoped, by now, to have a few blog posts up about my experience.
Turns out, bearing witness to the one of the greatest atrocities in human history was a bit harder to write about than I anticipated. Every time I write, I find myself backspacing, until I erase the entire post. Why? I'm finding it difficult to put into words the magnitude of the experience.
But I feel a great responsibility to write about my trip, and to share the experience with anyone who is willing to listen. I'm about 1/3 done; so it's getting there.
Fear not, loyal blog readers. I will be posting my thoughts soon, and I hope that you'll take the time to read.
Until then, please enjoy my usual blogging shenanigans.
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Doctor Visit
A few weeks ago, I had my first visit to an Israeli doctor. After thoroughly checking out WebMD and other websites that feed my hypochondriac tendencies, I decided it was time to see a real doctor about my persistent sore throat.
I'm quite the complainer when I'm sick. My mom says that I get this endearing trait from my dad. But in any case, I was hoping for a little coddling and sympathy. Just a little.
Not in Israel. I went to a clinic a few blocks away from my house. The doctor came in and saw me for, literally, 4 minutes. She felt my throat, opened my mouth, and told me it was just a cold.
"Are you sure it's not strep throat?"
"No."
"What about another viral infection?"
"No."
"But WebMD said..."
"No."
I left the room and went to the check-out counter. There was a woman checking in, bleeding profusely from her forehead. These Israelis are tough; I guess I can handle my mild sore throat.
But still. Coddle me, please!
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Sabich
One night, I was really jonesin' for a falafel. I wandered into a new shop, thinking that I could get one. Much to my dismay, it wasn't a falafel shop.
The gentleman told me that it was "sabich," an Iraqi sandwich. Lightly fried eggplant, hard-boiled egg, potatoes, hummus, tahini, and Israeli salad in a warm pita.
"What the heck?" I thought, and purchased one (you know me, always throwing caution to the wind).
This sandwich is AWESOME. Delicious. Filling. Perfection. I might be so bold as to say that sabich is the new falafel. I went back twice that week.
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| Mmmmmm. Sabich. |
Jerusalem friends: You need to try this delicious sandwich. And invite me to join you.
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"Tremping" and Other Things My Mother Would Disapprove Of
In Israel, it's popular to "tremp," or as we Americans call it... to hitch-hike.
Last week, I was spending Shabbat at my teacher's house. She lives in a place called Gush Etzion, which is about 45 minutes from Jerusalem. As one waits at the bus stop (which is informally called the 'trempenada'), cars drive by and stop to tell people where they are driving to. If you are going to the same place, they graciously offer you a seat in their vehicle. In Israel, it's a very normal thing to do.
I was struck by the diversity of the people who were stopping, and also tremping: old, young, religious, secular, families, single people. And how do you thank the person? By simply saying "thank you" and wishing them a "shabbat shalom."
I don't plan on making this a habit (Mom), and I would never do this by myself (Mom). And in any situation, one must be careful and use his/her best judgment. Here is my rule of thumb:
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| Tremp |
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| Don't Tremp |
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I hope to be more consistent with my blogging; and stay tuned for Poland reflections!
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