Reception in Tel Aviv

Leaving after a phenomenal stay in Haifa, I traveled by train back to Tel Aviv where I was greeted at the station by Lisa’s enthusiastic wave. Lisa, Ron and their daughter Laila became my next door neighbors upon their move to Seattle the summer of 2004, just before I began my studies at SIOM. Ron is Israeli, Lisa from the Bronx. They first crossed paths in Lhasa, later met again in Israel and eventually traveled for close to a year in Asia. Having lived in Israel together for some years thereafter, they moved to the US to fulfill Ron’s desire to work in the high-tech industry, optimally for Microsoft. During our two years as neighbors we shared meals, tea, onions or lentils or whatever the other didn’t have in the fridge at the time. Mayaan (now 2 ½), whose birth I had the honor to attend, was born VBAC at home. Laila (soon to be 5) gradually grew to more fully inhabit her own personality as a strong, opinionated, vibrant little girl. A part of the long term plan as long as I’ve known them, they decided to return to Israel this autumn, Laila’s entry into kindergarten being one of many reasons for the timing. Their move coincided with Microsoft establishing a campus here in Tel Aviv. This facilitated a reasonably smooth transition with job and temporary housing waiting for them. Regardless, the uprooting of a family of four to another country is not an easy endeavor regardless of the circumstances.

The girls in their 2^nd week of school, Ron having completed his first week on the job, having found but not yet moved into their new rental home, they still warmly welcomed me in to share a bit of the living room floor of their transitional apartment. Laila and Mayaan hardly batted an eye, that unique present moment childhood lens casting it as only natural that I should show up on their doorstep with huge backpack, thousands of miles from their Fremont home. And so time in Tel Aviv has been more kid-paced in all its whirl and immediacy. We have read stories, shared meals, a morning painting at the new rental house, another at the beach, a Shabbat meal at Grandma’s, Ron’s mother, in Jerusalem, an afternoon wandering the streets of Jaffa/Yafo ducking under shelter during one of the few rain storms since my arrival in the country.

My experiences in recent days have reawakened, with great poignancy, my admiration of all those who undertake the endeavor of bearing and raising children. Lisa and I have spoken about the journey of parenting, that balance between drawing boundaries and allowing children to freely express who and how they are. She has shared how heart wrenching it is to watch her daughters go through the process of finding their way in this new home. It is extraordinary to witness these two little girls adapting to a completely new culture, language, world which while they have visited is not yet their own. Mayaan, while more fully commanding the English language every day still doesn’t speak Hebrew. Laila understands, but at school is purportedly reluctant to speak. Amidst these challenges, they are finding and naming the familiar in their new home. They joyously rattle off the names of their new school friends and teachers. Laila articulately explained the system of flags raised on the beach indicating the relative size/threat of the wake (white = safe, red = some caution, black = unsafe to swim). They both commented with disappointment when, on a walk, we passed the dusty windowed light store all dark within, the owner an elder and gentle man apparently not in. I have observed in each of them dozens of tiny gestures, their establishing ritual and familiarity, claiming this new place as their own. They are shining examples to me of human resilience and adaptability, likewise their loving parents.

In tending to myself along this journey, supporting my ability to remain flexible and grounded, I have observed by now almost predictable changes in my sleeping patterns. I have always been an early riser. However, in this recent chapter my body~mind have consistently sacrificed sleep becoming alert in the stillness and quiet of early morning in whichever home I find myself. Not only does this allow me time to stretch and meditate before my hosts awaken, but also to slowly warm to social engagement which is both fundamentally nourishing and, for me, requires a unique kind of energy.

Since my arrival at Lisa & Ron’s, my mornings have been further enhanced by jogging along a spacious boardwalk extending the length of the Tel Aviv waterfront. My first morning fell on Shabbat. Perhaps people taking advantage of their day of rest, I encountered more spandex clad, exercised bodies than I have since my arrival in Israel. The boardwalk has not been so crowded on any early morning since. During the daytime, it is teeming with people. There are those headed for a swim, others enjoy the cafés and gelato stores. Men play matkot, a Israeli raquet ball game. On Saturdays, there is public Israeli folk dancing to recorded music being piped out from who knows where. We stumbled across it on our way home from the beach. A reasonable crowd surrounded maybe 100 or more people of varied ages, dress, sex, from athletic 20 somethings in spandex to more pear shaped elders. It wasn’t a performance, just a gathering, anyone could join in and many seemed extremely familiar and game to do so.

I’m not sure what to attribute it to, but in my limited experiences of these cities I have observed a distinct difference in the average female body in Haifa and Tel Aviv. In Haifa I was struck by the generosity of many female figures, particularly as here well padded curves are not tented in draping fabric but rather hugged with an array of tighter clothing. Upon my arrival in Tel Aviv, I found the general female population more consistent with the fit and slender US or European end of the physique spectrum, some women to the questionably healthy extreme. I haven’t been struck by a notable difference between men.

Heading to the Ancient City

During my days in Tel Aviv, Lisa was visibly distressed by her efforts to reconcile ambitions for all the wonderful things she would like to show me and the realities of their transition, their family and the tasks at hand. In light of that, I followed up on my friend Maha’s suggestion to head up to Jerusalem for a few days to take in the spirit of the place.

The morning I left Lisa awoke with a stomach flu that passed rather quickly leaving her rung out and annulling our plans to drive up to Jerusalem together with the girls. After a bit of acupuncture and preparing some rice congee for her, she felt more settled and on the mend. We trooped off to the station together where I caught a bus. And so I set out toward a city with roots dating back to the 4^th millennium BCE.