One month in, I’m no longer considered a newbie, although I don’t think anyone will confuse me with a Sabra just yet either! It’s been an interesting few weeks, and sometimes I can’t help but compare my new experiences with what it’s like back at home.
Let’s start with the people. I love interacting with the down-to-earth, straight-talking Israelis. I met an elderly woman at the park and was able to confidently converse with her in Hebrew (thanks, SHS!). She spent several minutes trying to persuade my friend and me to let her introduce us to some chayalim she knows because she was convinced that would get us to make aliyah quicker. We politely declined, but I sure loved her audacious spirit.
Dorm life at seminary is kind of like camp and school rolled into one. We have classes in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings with breaks spaced in between. I love constantly being with my friends and I enjoy getting to know the teachers and rebbeim during Shabbatons, trips, and other informal settings. There is always something going on somewhere, but I am learning to balance the FOMO with taking much-needed breaks and alone time.
Let’s talk weekends. In Israel, Friday is all about Shabbos, and Sunday is just a regular day. I used to tease my brothers (lovingly, of course) that they had to go to school on Sunday mornings while I got to relax or sleep in. Now, Friday is my day off and I have a full day of classes on Sunday. I love being out in the neighborhood on Friday mornings in the middle of the hustle and bustle. Everyone is busy shopping, or traveling with their backpacks, and the streets are buzzing with life. Whether I am in the shuk or in Geulah, the smells coming out of the bakeries are otherworldly. I also have to keep careful track of the time because several hours before sunset on Fridays, public transportation completely stops.
Going into Rosh Hashanah, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I figured I’d be homesick for my mother’s special yom tov dishes and that I would miss my Rav’s niggunim that made me feel so connected during davening. There definitely was some of that, but I also got to experience enjoyable meals with so many friends, and the davening was truly inspiring surrounded by all of my classmates. At home I usually did Tashlich with my family at the beach in Far Rockaway, which often concluded with throwing stale challah to the fish, although the seagulls get to it first. This year, Tashlich took place at a drinking fountain in the park next to my school, with no bread, birds, or fish involved. Yes, it was the same park where I met the aspiring shadchan.
Israel is permeated with a spirituality that isn’t comparable to home, although I do admit that the Five Towns is its own special bubble. I will end with a story that illustrates my point. I spent a lovely Shabbos with my friend, hosted by her grandparents. When I complimented my friend’s grandmother on the delicious challah she explained that she uses a secret ingredient. She collects rainwater in a container that she leaves outside, and uses that water for the challah dough. Her challah is infused with the taste of Yerushalayim.
Whether it is the people, traditions, or routines, I love the exposure to all of these new experiences. They truly foster meaningful growth.
