Can we talk about breastfeeding for a moment?

It doesn’t come so easy to many women. It didn’t for me. Moreover, it doesn’t come so easy to many men either. It’s fraught with squeamishness and discomfort and awkwardness and shrouded in stress and anxiety and shame and guilt and pressure and embarrassment and did I mention discomfort? - all rolled into one.

Since we’re all adults here, surely we can agree that something as basic as feeding a baby its essential, natural sustenance deserves to be addressed with plain, open and honest discussion, and yet at the same time, it really shouldn’t attract as much attention as it does. 

An Australian member of parliament just breastfed her baby in parliament and it made headlines in world news. I don’t know whether it was simply an action of maternal necessity or one of political standing, but either way, while I’m very happy she did it, it’s sad that in 2017 this is a news item. 

As I say, breastfeeding didn’t come easy to me – not with my first, nor second, nor third. God knows what I didn’t go through to get the hang of it and eventually find my (our) groove… With each child, it was a different ballgame.  To break it down, I persevered with an assortment of massages (self-done as well as other people helping me out), lumps, expressing, syringes, engorgement, mastitis, cabbage leaves, nursing pillows, varying positions, cushions, footstools, lactation consultants, ointments, silicone nipple shields, annoying bras, pumps, freezing bags, ice boxes, nursing aprons, supplements, muslin wraps, lopsidedness… you name it. 

At first, I only wanted to breastfeed at home. In a room, where I felt comfortable, away from relatives and guests. Once I progressed to being out and about a bit more, I would find a quiet, not-so-public place – sometimes the bathroom, sometimes back in the car, to modestly breastfeed. 

When my first-born was about 3 months old, 8 years ago, I remember going in to the office for the first time to have a meeting with my then boss to discuss my return to work. I forgot to bring a muslin cloth with me so I had to make do without and I breastfed during this meeting. It was a milestone for me. And my boss? Well, he didn't even bat an eyelid. He just continued talking naturally, which made me feel very relaxed and comfortable about the whole thing. I was grateful. Of course, it never occurred to me that this could be a news item. Then again, I guess this wasn't parliament.

Fast-forward to now, and it’s still not easy. However, these days, my mind-set has changed, and I don’t think twice about nursing whenever and wherever I need to - oftentimes, without the apron. You do what you need to do I guess. Yesterday, while waiting for my appointment in a doctor’s waiting room, I needed to nurse my baby. She decided quite suddenly that she was ravished, and neither pacifier nor cuddling was going to do the trick. For the sake of peace and quiet in the waiting room, I quickly picked her up – a sweaty, clenched-fisted, screaming, red-faced mess - before I could grab a muslin cloth or nursing apron from my bag. I knew I had one packed somewhere in the bottom of the bag, but I realised the amount of effort involved in single-handedly foraging for it while holding a squirmish, squealing baby was not going to be worth the hassle. Plus, I didn’t want to leave the room as it was my turn to be called to the doctor next. 

And so, I began to nurse her.  People around me busied themselves (perhaps courteously or perhaps just naturally?) by staring either at their phones or at the silent TV perched on the wall. In fact, the silence of the waiting room seemed to only amplify the impressively loud slurping, gulping and swallowing sounds my baby made as she drank with full gusto. The secretary looked up at me and politely proposed (in barely an audible whisper) that if I would be more comfortable, and only if I wanted to, I could find the female bathroom and adjacent nursing and change room outside the doctor’s waiting room and right down the corridor toward the end of the building. As this would mean that I would certainly miss hearing my name called out, not to mention, I’d have to walk past everyone while either holding the suckling baby across my chest or run the risk of putting her back down in the stroller while wheeling her out and she would undoubtedly scream ever more loudly, I graciously declined the offer and opted to just stay where I was, where I would be sure to not lose my long-awaited place in line.  She smiled. I smiled back. Baby gulped. And farted loudly. I giggled. The young man next to me shuffled in his seat. Half-apologetically, I looked up, a bit flushed, and made eye contact with the older man who was wearing a kippah, sitting across from me. He didn’t have a phone in his hands and he wasn’t watching the TV. “Kol hakavod,” he said to me, rather loudly – meaning “well done”. I’m not sure if he meant for this to be directed toward me or toward the baby. In any case, it made me realise something.

Breastfeeding is not a one-woman job.  It involves encouragement of women the world over and cooperative babies, alongside proficient government leadership, as well as accommodating workplaces, and support from families and friends, and assistance from the health care system and back-up from communities and society to really make it all work.

And just for the heck of it, here is a picture my mother recently took of me that I was previously reluctant to share… my daughter was one month old. Mum said she’d caption it “Multi-Tasking”. I’d caption it just “getting shit done”.

I gave birth exactly 1 week ago and...

Now seems as good a time as ever to revive this dormant blog of mine!

My daughter, Jasmine, is 1 week old today.  My amazing Doula, Michal Melamed, posted the following story about our marathon labour. That may sound funny, but I say "our" because she shared in the event just about as much as I did (okay, so maybe I had the slightly greater share!) and I say "marathon" for two reasons, which will be made clearer once you read her awesome post, which I have embellished with pictures and a ridiculous video of me dancing my way through contractions (Yes, I am one of THOSE women!)  :)

So, without further ado, and yes, I am taking the easy way out by blogging this time round with the aid of a "guest blog" - More from me next time - whenever that may be! (I know my track record doesn't look too promising but I'm going to do my best!)

"Birth Before The Marathon" - by Michal Melamed- Doula, childbirth counselor and dance instructor

I had seen signs the Friday before when I was walking on the beach in Tel Aviv with another laboring Birth Mama (trying to help contractions progress). It was 5:00am, a simply gorgeous morning and the boardwalk was filled with runners preparing for the Tel Aviv marathon. Many religious women, something I noticed, being one myself. She had mentioned the roads would be closed next Friday 24/2/17. I started to get a little concerned, being a doula and knowing that there might be a "small chance" that I’d have to drive to a birth in Tel Aviv that day.


Two wonderful, exhilarating births I had back to back that Shabbat and thought, Fantastic, the next birth should be early. It was her third pregnancy and she looked and felt "cooked". Sunday goes by – no news. Monday, nothing. Tuesday, Wednesday, and I’m getting a little concerned. Wednesday I was exercising with my personal trainer, who happened to be running in the Tel Aviv marathon. She knows I’m a Doula and waiting anxiously for the next birth. She quickly looked up the schedule for road closings for the marathon on Friday and tells me that from 4:00am until 2:00pm on Friday all the roads will be closed. Even the marathon participants will be taking the train to get in.


Of course, I’m getting a little nervous and text my client if "something’s doing". Other than irregular contractions, nothing else to report, she says. She heard acupuncture treatment is wonderful with helping labor progress. I said Yes, it is highly recommended. Go for it!


When I say this Birth Mama was “cooked”, I mean she was 2 days away from week 40, with an excess of amniotic fluid, belly very big and low, gestational diabetes, last ultrasound estimating baby weight to be 4.3KG, and she had been experiencing contractions for 2 weeks already. Considered “high risk”, her medical care providers had already given her a limit and she knew that if she were to turn up at hospital at 40 weeks, all things considered, it was most probable she’d be a candidate for medically induced interventions or a C-section. Her feet were swollen and she wasn’t sleeping well. Exhausted, and “over it”, she was determined and ready to bring on her own labor marathon in the comfort of her own home, using supportive, opening, releasing techniques.


Wednesday night at 11:30pm, a few hours after she’s had her acupuncture treatment, she calls with contractions every 5 minutes. Lasting a minute or more, for the last 45 minutes. I thought, Yahoo! This is the phone call I’m waiting for. Knowing it’s her third birth, and knowing third births could change to 2-mins apart  in an instant, I headed out to her apartment in Tel Aviv. I drove up to her front entrance and she calls to tell me her contractions have died down. False alarm. A little disappointed, but I said, Okay, if you can sleep through the contractions maybe it’s best you get a good night’s sleep, and wake up with energy in the morning in order to have this baby. Because Thursday is THE DAY.


I drove home at 1:00am and slept with my clothes on, hoping I’d get a phone call in the middle of the night. I woke up to a nice sunny day, no phone call and still thinking, OMG, marathon tomorrow!


I called my Birth Mama and said I’m coming over and we are having a "Birth" Day Baby Party Today!


We started off with yoga. She drank her raspberry leaf tea and a spoonful of castor oil washed down with an egg and some orange juice. Then we were off for a long speed-walk at Tel Baruch Beach, which I must mention is a gorgeous beach. We chatted, stretched, watched the stands of drinking water being set up for the runners, worked on the public workout gyms, stretched some more and stepped up and down on benches...

Then it was time to head back home.

"Should I call my acupuncturist again?" She wondered. "Definitely!" I said. 

Another spoonful of castor oil, some more raspberry leaf tea, and her husband cooked us an amazing real Moroccan Shakshuka lunch with Sudanese hot chillies and eggs, spicy enough that any fire-breathing dragon would have loved it. Poor Birth Mama, who is not a fan of chilli, is now sitting with mouth on fire, exhausted and nothing much doing with labor. But baby is looking pretty low. Back to a bit more yoga positions and spinning baby positions.

We put on some good music and start dancing, moving those hips and having a good old time until her acupuncturist turns up at 3:00pm. Acupuncture treatment for an hour. This gives my Birth Mama a much needed chance to lie down and relax. Today he ups the treatment a notch with electro acupuncture (EA) for labor induction! While she’s getting her treatment, I’m playing with her other two older boys who are just delicious and I feel like I’m now the third Grandma.

She’s exhausted after a full day and the treatment and would like to rest for an hour. That’s fine, sometimes a Birth Mama just needs a good quiet calming rest, away from the world and that’s just the moment when baby wants to enter the world. So she’s resting in her bedroom, I’m playing soccer with her son, like a good doula, taking care of everybody. Her husband had already called the police for road closure updates and both of us are concerned about the marathon. They said even for births, no drivers allowed, you will have to take an ambulance.


Her husband’s getting a little more nervous, but has a great outlet, stress cooking. So he starts making pregnancy sushi, which we all benefit from.


I go into my Birth Mama’s bedroom to ask her how she’s feeling .... Hhmmm, some contractions, a little more regular, but nothing she can’t manage. Knowing the kids are in the living room, I suggest it might be best to go for one more short walk in the evening fresh air. It’s 6:20pm. She stands up, starts to get ready and oops, her waters break!


Hallelujah. Change of plans. This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for. While she’s in the bathroom, changing her soaked clothing and having a shower, a chain reaction of events begins to set off and she starts feeling a lot of pressure. Barely standing, but still calm, she’s talking not your usual "this is it" contractions. She’s taking her time to leave the shower and she’s begun low-octave oooooohhs to breathe and hum through contractions.


7:00pm. Her husband’s cousin comes over to watch the other children. Birth Mama is feeling hhmmmm, I think the hospital might be a good idea. She’s feeling a lot of pressure and it’s very difficult to stand. Time to head out and it seems this baby is ready to meet its Mama.


We depart at 7:30pm and Waze says 28 minutes to Tel Hashomer hospital - that seems like a long time when you’re feeling pressure. We take separate cars, because again, marathon approaching and in a few hours there would be no way to get my car on Friday. I drive up to Sheba and I see their car is illegally parked out front, where the ambulances pull up at the entrance. Uh-huh. No monitor room, no check in, "green light".

It’s 8:08pm. I head straight to birthing rooms, ripe and ready to go. I get to room #3 and I can hear her wails reaching the high octaves. My couple are there and she’s pushing. Her last ultrasound estimated baby's weight at 4.3kg, which I know is usually off. But pushing seems slightly difficult, and in a small place in the back of my mind, as much as I’ve seen ultrasounds be off, I’m thinking maybe it was right. Thinking this just for a few seconds, but positive and knowing that this Birth Mama has the strength for this no matter what the weight of this baby would be as I’ve seen her in action at her last birth and know what she’s made of.


It’s 8:31pm and in a matter of just 20 glorious minutes and two or three great pushes, this beautiful angel entered our room covered in all the beautiful baby fluids that come with birth. Straight to her unbelieving Mama’s arms, their 3.7kg beautiful baby daughter is here.

Like Nike tells us, “Just do it” – and we DID IT! What a marathon!

My Son's Operation.

“Now when I put this on you, you’re going to be the captain, OK? You’re the pilot. In a few seconds, you’ll be flying.” Solly seemed thrilled. The anaesthetist handed him the mask as he lay on the bed in his bright hospital pajamas, wide-eyed and curious, an IV poking into his thin skin.

Solly before being anaesthetised

Eli stood at the bedside, a little nervous, and just as the two men believed the drug to have set in, Solly opened one of his big eyes, in classic Solly style, as if to check who was tricking who as he shot a cheeky grin at the anaesthetist. “You didn’t trick me,” smiled the anaesthestist, playfully, “but close your eyes now before I bite you”.  Within seconds, Eli says, his eyes rolled back and he was out of it. 

Solomon’s Supersonic, Sensitive Hearing

Now just to side-track here, in response to a post of mine on Facebook recently where I mentioned Solly’s operation, not for shock effect, but just to gage which topic people thought it most interesting I blog about – many wrote to me in private messages, alarmed, wishing Solly well, saying things like “Poor Solly”…

Well, thank you for your kind words, however, to reassure you all, let there be no mistake – there is no poor Solly in this story. Solly is fine. He was very brave, as usual, and he was not fazed at all by his operation. On the contrary, I’d even go so far as to say that he was excited about it and felt very special overall.

And this is Solly still before drugs (you'd never guess it!)

He was back on his feet within hours, as good as new, if not instantly better, and not only that, something really incredible happened.

So there’s this video that’s gone viral in the past month (over 10 mil views!) showing a 7-week old Australian baby hearing for the first time...  you may have seen it:

Well it’s not anything like that (I just really liked that video and think it’s amazing) – but it’s somewhat similar!

Solly was by no means deaf, but only now, immediately post-operation, am I discovering the extent of how much more improved his senses of smell, taste and especially hearing, have become. He’s still getting used to this new sensation of heightened senses and before the novelty wears off, he appears unable to filter out extraneous sounds from the background. It seems unreal, but his hearing is so darn impressive, he can hear the garbage truck from a few blocks away, over the sound of the TV, well before I can (and I have excellent hearing). I tested him (with Eli and my mother-in-law as witnesses) by whispering a random number from a room well away from where he was standing, and he could call out the numbers I whispered, when neither Eli nor my MIL could hear me whisper anything! A passing bus in the street causes Solly to raise his hands to his ears and complain about the noise. He was sleeping the other night – make that snoring – while I was telling Eli a story in the kitchen about something that had happened during the day involving Solly, only for him to appear right in front of us, half asleep, asking if we were talking about him! True story!

It’s like a whole new world! A whole new Solly! The boy has super powers I tell you!

Solly has other superpowers unrelated to this specific story, which involve building really impressive things from lego. I insert this here only because he built this amazing thing while killing time in the waiting room at the hospital. Awesome, right?

So how did all of this come about, I hear you ask? Back the tuck up to about 1 year ago, and the story goes like this:

"Don't worry, he's just ignoring you," I assured his kindergarten teacher, who had hinted to me on more than one occasion now that I should really be taking my son to get a hearing test, "He ignores me too. All the time."

Six months later I would find myself sitting in on an interesting hearing test at the hospital with Solly. While I couldn't hear what he could hear in his massive headphones, I could hear what the instructor sitting opposite him was asking of him. I looked on from the side, proudly, as he diligently responded to the tasks at hand, moving colored blocks around a board and picking up different colored balls and other toy-like objects, following instructions and listening for cues. It was pleasurable, almost fun. “He’s aced it”, I thought, and smiled to myself, as I imagined returning to his kindergarten teacher, assuring her with full confidence that Solly really had no hearing problem.

 

“He has a significant loss of hearing”, concluded the doctor afterwards, bluntly, “most likely caused by liquid trapped in the ears.”

For as long as I could remember, Solomon had had a snotty nose. I felt assured that it was totally a normal thing for young kids to be snotty. It came as part of the whole package of kids just being sick so often as their little bodies adjusted and adapted to germ-infested reality outside the womb, not to mention being surrounded all the time by other snotty-nosed kids. Whatever doesn't kill them makes them stronger, right? It was even healthy and indeed, preferable, to have a snotty-nosed toddler over a toddler who was never sick – it would come back to bite them when those healthy infants grew up to be unhealthy adolescents, having been brought up in unnaturally overprotected cocoons of hyper-hygiene.

“Yes, this is a good thing,” I assured myself in the middle of those long nights when I would give my baby endless cool baths and cold compresses to bring down temperatures and ease hours of ear-ache related crying and discomfort. It was normal for kids to get ear infections and it was normal for kids to be picky eaters. While I didn't like it, I succumbed to the annoying "pasta without anything" requests. I guessed it was an Israeli thing. It was also normal for kids to ignore what they don't wish to pay attention to (like parents, for example), or so I thought, in just the same way that it was perfectly normal for kids to talk loudly over others. Right?

The favourite meal for every annoying kid I know: Pasta with nothing. 

It was true that my Solly, for the life of him, was incapable of talking softly. He was loud and he’s stubborn by nature, and I was fine with that, for the most part. I figured he was just like his father.

I think it was first his doctor, who surprised me when seemingly out of nowhere, at the age of around 3 and a half, before his kindergarten teacher had even said anything to me, and without any thorough checking at all, he suggested that Solly would eventually need to have his adenoids removed. Why have something removed from a perfectly healthy boy, I thought? OK so maybe he wasn't perfectly healthy, as we were at the doctors - again. But this hypothesis struck me as odd at the time, seeing as though now, we were at the doctor for something unrelated to ENT altogether, like an eye infection I think. What gave doctors the right in Israel, I wondered, or anyone here for that matter, to offer unwarranted advice on things they weren't even being consulted for? 

"He just has that look on his face," surmised the perceptive doctor – medical sophistication at its finest. "And I can hear it in his voice. He may also need tubes put in his ears. Then he won't get ear infections as often," he added, possibly sensing my skepticism.

My mother-in-law had told me how Eli had needed this procedure done too when he was a child. But Eli wasn't Solly; Eli was born with a hole in his eardrum skin as well as a host of other issues (not to mention as a baby he had his leg in a cast for 3 months because it was twisted. But that’s a whole other story!) This was about Solly and Solly was perfect. Objectively speaking, of course. Snot and all. 

But the snot was ever-present.   

Many people confuse adenoids and tonsils.  You can see your tonsils in the back of your throat but adenoids are a patch of tissue that sit at the back of the nasal cavity. Adenoids do important work as infection fighters for babies and little kids. But they become less important once a kid gets older and the body develops other ways to fight germs. Adenoids usually shrink after about age 5, and by the teenage years they often practically disappear.

Interesting Hebrew lesson: the word for tonsils is "shkedim", the same word for almonds :) 

As for ear tubes, this also turns out to be a very common procedure. The tubes are tiny, but they do a big job: draining icky fluid that causes childhood ear infections, pressure, and hearing problems in children.  The tubes need little maintenance — heck, they even come out by themselves in about a year. But it does mean that we need to be super careful about not getting water in his ears. Hence, we waited until Solly was 5 and a ½, and for the end of summer, so no more swimming for a while.

To conclude...

I am in absolute awe of the state of science and medical technology today. If for nothing else, I am grateful for the simple fact that when he came home that day from hospital, tired and hungry, I served Solly his favorite meal – pasta, of course – but this time with sauce. He not only commented on the good smell and the delicious taste, he actually finished a whole plate and asked for more! Now what else could a mother really ask for? What other miracle operations are perhaps in store for us down the road?

When Solly eventually came round, after the anaesthetic wore off, with Eli idly waiting by his side, the first thing Solly said to him was, “Abba, were you also on the plane?”

We are in this journey together and I am very pleased with Solly's impressive trajectory. Onwards and upwards, Solly!

·     [*Post Script: I haven’t blogged in 9 months, pathetically, I know, so I’m afraid I’ve been rather long-winded here. My next blogs, which will hopefully come sooner rather than later, will be half the size in length, I promise (if not shorter)! Thank you and well done if you've managed to read it through to the end!]

Making a comeback to blogging after an 8-year hiatus!

Well this feels slightly strange and liberating at the same time!  It's a new year and a new resolution. I've been reading a lot lately and thinking a lot about writing, but unfortunately I never seem to get around to writing about what I'm thinking.

All of this will change this year.

Where do I start? 

So, I just rediscovered my blog, which I began in November 2005, when I first moved to Israel. Yes, the very original-named sarahinisrael.blogspot.com 

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about getting back into writing again. Last week, I wrote this for my work for jwire.com.au . Other than that, I've written only a couple of times for the Times of Israel, not for lack of ideas or good intentions for more articles (no shortage of that!), but mainly more due to lack of time and lack of confidence that people will find interesting what it is I have to say. I don't know why.

I guess I could write about many topics. Maybe I should take a vote here?
I can write about such genres as:

• The amusing things I find about life in Israel
• The ups and downs (but mainly ups) of life as an Australian immigrant in Israel (this may me similar to point 1)
• The amusing things one discovers about parenthood (in Israel, and with my kids in particular, and just in general)
• Israeli Diplomacy (no shortage of issues to write about there)
• Israel-Diaspora relations, and why I love what I do and think it's important for young people to visit Israel on amazing programs like #AMHSI
• What really gets my goat in the world
• Trending news 
• Social media and marketing communications stuff

I really enjoy writing. I write press releases and sometimes I write longish status updates, which people seem to like. People keep encouraging me to write more. So, here you have it people - due to popular demand,

Baby Got  I AM  BACK!!!

I read plenty of blogs, some by people who I know, and some by total strangers. There's this woman, who I don't know personally, but she is battling cancer right now and she writes about it so honestly and so openly, I've been following her blog religiously for a while and I think about her and about her young kids whom she writes about often. Some bloggers who I follow, aren't particularly good at writing at all, but I admit I continue to read their crap anyway, because it gives me renewed inspiration each time to get back into writing my own, much-better-blog-than-theirs. I keep wanting to write, but since my last blog oh-so-long ago, so many things have happened...

Like this... happened. 

I made lots of new friends, got married, bought a place, renovated, got a 'proper' job, had a kid, did a Masters Degree (see nerdy cameo below), established a non-profit organization, opened a business, changed positions at my job, had another kid, bought another place, traveled overseas a bit...

                

I can never work out how one plunges back into things after an 8-year hiatus. How do I pick up the pieces? I have a hard enough time trying to pick up the phone and call friends of mine who I haven't spoken to in months. (By the way, speaking of new years resolutions, if you're one of those friends, and you're reading this, you know who you are and I feel really guilty about this, and hope to do something about this guilt some time really soon. So expect a call from me. Or feel free to call me first. That would be best!)  

I was writing regularly back in the day until I got sick of countless repetitive, long, eloquent emails, with friends and family back in Oz, and I moved communications over to my blog. I thought this was a great solution and I kept this up quite diligently until May 2006, my last entry, when, I'm not sure what happened, but for some reason I stopped. I think that must have been around the time when I began working as Deputy Editor for Time Out Israel magazine and guidebook, and was writing a lot for them. And then there came Facebook. And smartphones. And we all know what happened after that. 

I just racked my brain for a solid hour or so, trying to recall the password associated to the old email account with which I'd set this blog up, back when that email was the only thing I had a password for. (Ha, how times have changed!) After several failed attempts, a good dose of frustration, and a memory jog of several dearly loved ex-cats of mine (doesn't everyone make passwords out of pet names?) I finally gained access to the coveted dashboard, which is like being in the cockpit of a mystery flight. I have the power at my fingertips but the destination is as yet unknown. And it's exciting! So, here I am. I'm in. Fingers at the ready. Wondering what I should write about... 

Well, to start, I just re-read all my blog entries now and re-lived all the novelties and exciting discoveries that were part and parcel of my Aliyah experience (moving to Israel).  

Wow. What a trip down memory lane. I highly recommend it (not necessarily you reading my own past blogs, but you reading your old diary entries or old emails... as I also just managed to do now that I worked out the password!)

I feel as though I've stepped back in time. It's like I've rediscovered a once loved album which I'd long forgotten about. Kind of like when Alanis Morissette performed in December last year in Tel Aviv, during my penultimate week of pregnancy #2, and I hadn't listened to her music for a good 10 years, but swore to myself that one day, if and when I find myself in the same city as where she's performing, I will go, by hook or by crook (discovered last week that many Americans are not familiar with this idiom)! And then for weeks leading up to the concert, I just listened to her CD non-stop and all the awesome associated memories I had came flooding back, and I belted out nearly every word to every song at the concert with one of my best friends from high school by my side (Hi Shir!). I felt a rush, like I was young again, and I loved it and life was great.

Alanis, playing like she ought to know, in Tel Aviv

OR

It's kind of like I've chanced upon an old pair of my favourite jeans, hidden at the back of my wardrobe, ones that I've had since my teens and refuse to part with. Although I may have forgotten all about them, somewhere deep down I was hoping that I'd find them one day, and now I've just realised that not only are they still in perfect condition, but they're totally in style and I can still fit in to them. 

Ha! Who am I kidding? I may have gotten carried away there with the analogies so I'll quit while I'm ahead and get down to "tachles" (the most important word I've learnt in Hebrew since living here, which they didn't teach me at school, deriving from the Yiddish word - literally meaning "purpose" or "the  point").

Its 2:40 AM. I've been interrupted at least 10 times while writing this, and each time it set me back, trying to recall what it was I was thinking about saying before I got distracted. I am reminded of why I haven't touched this blog in so long!

But, with culprits like these, who can complain?

The guilty party who eat up all my time, my energy, and my love. 

More later. I'd love to know if people think it's worth me pursuing this blog and continuing with it, and if so, in what direction?

Busy start to May!

To carry on from where I left off last blog (which was exactly 1 week ago! GO me for keeping upto date!), I went out with Shir last Saturday night to one of the best clubs I have ever been to. There were 4 big DJ's, at one stage all playing at the same time together. The atmosphere was unique- kind of like a big major event gig (like The Big Day Out tent or an expensive concert in a club) but really small. And not so expensive. It was underground. And everyone there was just cool. Lots of Rastas. Maybe that's what did it. There was an exciting vibe to be dancing there I guess, and not once did I put up with a single song that I didn't like!

Anyway, last Tuesday it was Yom Hazikaron- Israel's national memorial day for fallen soldiers and victims of terror. This is a holiday which, in my opinion, has been paid too little attention in Australia (and possibly other diaspora countries as well). I guess it is an Israeli National holiday rather than a Jewish holiday, but still... Everyone here gets the day off work. It's a very somber day, as was Holocaust Rememberance Day which was only the week before (and another day off work). On both days people don't listen to music. And if you do, the radios are all playing very nationalistic songs. Last week, Eli and I went to a very moving ceremony with lots of Holocaust survivors and also the chief Rabbi of Israel. In fact, one of the survivors there, was the reallife character in the Schindler's List film who gets married. I forget his name.... anyway, A lot of people around me were crying. It was difficult for me to follow everything in such formal Hebrew, so I admit, I didn't feel as moved as I possibly would've had I understood everything, and I did nod off for a little bit, but the parts that I was awake for were definitely very interesting. Especially the end bit when the anthem was sung- or more correctly, belted out with intense feeling. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE was singing the anthem, and very loudly. I guess it was the first time I felt some kind of patriotism to this strange land. I think I've always felt connected, but that ceremony really did something.

Anyway, as with that holiday, there was what I'd call a very loud 'air raid siren' which sounded on Yom Hazikaron too, for I think, 1 minute. Upon hearing the siren, every Israeli stops what they're doing and stands in silence. Even people in their cars stop driving and actually get out. I witnessed that when I was standing outside my laundromat at the time, which is at a particularly busy intersection in Florentine. Most surreal.

Everyone here seems to know someone who died and is remembered on this day, and people attend memorial ceremonies. Eli went to the North to visit the grave and family of his best friend who died when he was 20 whilst serving in the army. I didn't go. Interestingly, Israel purposefully decided to put Yom Hazikaron one day before Yom Ha'atsmaut -Independence Day-, which means 2 days off work. A lot of people found it awkward to put such a sad day next to a celebratory holiday, but by doing so I think the government made it clear: without the soldiers who gave their lives, there would be no Israeli independence to celebrate. It's kind of like the crushing of the glass under the Jewish wedding canopy; In times of great happiness we remember sadness, and vice versa.
(Pretty much an exact replica of my above photo appeared in the front page of the newspapers here the next day! Yay to me and my amazing photographic abilities! You know how hard it is to capture fireworks?!)

So anyway, Independence Day is just about THE biggest day of the year here. The night before (which, in the Jewish calendar, is actually the start of the day ahead) is celebrated with lots of BBQ's, music, parties and fireworks- every hour on the hour! Eli had a gig in a hall somewhere up North near Haifa, which I didn't want to go to, so I ended up with some mates from work at Rabin Square (the square which marks the place where past prime minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated) in a big big crowd, which I don't really like being in here, watching the fireworks and dancing with strangers to Israeli music, then going to a bar. My primary school Israeli dancing lessons really paid off...

The next day Eli and I took a stroll to the old port of Jaffa. I didn't realise it was basically Tel Aviv. Nor did I realise we were only a 15 min. walk away! So this was a very pleasant surprise, and nice thinking of Eli. I think I've discovered a new jogging route! This: Jaffa is really nice. It was particularly busy the day we went (for obvious reasons). There were horses riding on the sand! And the seafood restaurants boasting gorgeous views of the water were overfilling. We found a great restaurant away from the hustle and bustle of the beach, and closer to where many boats and yachts were moored. It was called The Fishermen's Restaurant, and it's actually run by fishermen (d'ah). Inside there were amazing photos of the fishermen and their catches. I found these pictures really amazing anyway. Also, as Eli and I were ating our delicious meal, exhibit a----> I couldn't help noticing everyone stopping to gawk at this shark which was placed on the ground at the entrance of the restaurant. It was similar to what I remember people would take photos of standing next to in Sea World or something... Like some kind of mascot, statue thing... It was about 1.5 metres or so. So after watching everyone else look so intently at this shark, I also went over to have a look at it. It felt rough to the touch, like some kind of mesh net over the skin, which I didn't expect, because to the naked eye it looked as though it would definitely feel soft. Then I marvelled at how fake the eyes looked, and poked them a bit. They seemed like cheap marbles or stickers. I tried to see if it was actually attached to the ground so I tried pinching the point of the tail to lift it, and oddly enough it was able to move from side to side a bit but of course not up. Then I thought to myself about how clever it was that there was a bit of blood next to it. I wondered if it was red cordial. I was inspecting this shark along with a little girl, perhaps 5 yrs old, who had both her hands tucked under her chin, held tightly against her, as though she was too terrified to touch the shark, but at the same time she edged closer to me, fascinated to just look at it and watch me touch it. I was trying to tell her it wasn't real, that it was dead... and that she should have a go touching it. I was like, "you can try look inside the mouth, it's fake, see?" and my curiosity got the better of me as I lifted up its snout wide open to reveal a very large mouth with lots of sharp teeth and gums and more plausibly realistic-looking blood. The little girl shrieked with delight when I did this and someone else took a photo of me and her. Anyway, I resolved myself to thinking that this restaurant was very clever, because this was an excellent way to attract people. Then I joined Eli for dessert. Then, just when I thought I should probably take a photo of that cool shark, I saw a man come out of the kitchen with a big hook and he just took the shark away, then mopped up the wet blotch that remained in its place. I asked a waitress what were they doing with the shark, and she laughed at me and said "Steakim" -which is funny in itself because it's another one of those dreaded English words which made it into the Hebrew vocab, but got pluralled in the Hebrew way, much like "sandvichim"... anyway. So that was that. I can't believe I didn't get a photo goddamnit!

Yesterday I went over to Pini's place to play with the kittens. To refresh all your collective memories, Pini and Tzvika are our neighbours (well they live 5 doors away) Pini is the one on the right and Tzvika is on the left. Anyway, they've given one kitten away now so they're down to 4+ the mummy (who has recently had a name change from Dolly to Nefertiti.) They're at the stage now where they chase toilet paper rolls and scrunched up newspaper and shoelaces and toes and tails and basically anything else that moves. In short, they are just adorable. But Eli is still adamant that we can't have one. Booooooo :(

Today I ventured to go jetskiing. Eli stayed home because he had lots of work to do, so I went with his cousin and his friends, all in 4x4's jeeps... There was a big group of us and we went to a beach which was packed with jeeps and jet skis- strange reality I've never belonged to before. I liked it- everyone brought beers and we had little BBQ's and we sat under beach umbrellas and there were nice dogs playing around and we played matkot (a beach game very popular here- similar to ping pong but with a heavier ball and slightly bigger bats and no table) and I went for a swim in my t-shirt. Yay. The jet ski wasn't working so that was a bit of a disappointment, but otherwise, it was very enjoyable. I met a guy who spent the last 2 yrs in Canada. He's a blacksmith ferrier (I think that's how he called it?). "What?" I hear you ask.... Yeah, that's exactly what i said. He's basically a horse man. He makes horse shoes and fits horses with them, and does everything else related to horses and metal. Anyway, he ran a ranch here when he was 21. And in canada he was living on a ranch and went to some special horse school. Now he's just started a business here, and he happens to be the brother of Nitzan's best friend (Notzan being Eli's cousin who took me today). So he invited me (and Eli) to go horse riding with him thru the golan heights next wk. He seems like such a cowboy. Really western-like. Just Israeli at the same time. Cool.
Another guy I met is really into fishing and said we'll go next Friday. So I think I'm going fishing and horseriding next weekend which I'm very much looking forward to! So today was a good day for making good connections for me. In Hebrew, this is called a 'kombina' (someone who is a good connection for whatver reason...)

Anyway, I think that's enough for one day,
I hope you all have a good week.
yalla
xxx

The last 2 weeks of April. Where has this year gone already?!

Firstly, to see my photo album: click here
It has been updated.

Also, I put lots of effort into that thing, as well as into this thing here- can you people please comment! I love reading the comments. Makes me feel important, and then I know people are actually reading this....ok.

I forgot to mention in the last blog something that I found really amazing- that during Pesach here, everything was made kosher for pesach! As in, McDonalds had completely kosher for Pesach hamburgers, and shwarma was sold everywhere in a matza roll thing... It was all very bizarre.

During Pesach, there was a bomb in Tel Aviv at the old central stn. I was on the bus at the time driving right past it so I heard it go off. At first I thought it was a road accident of some sort, but then I sensed a lot of commotion on the bus with people moving over to my side of the bus to look out the window and see what was happening, and we could see some smoke coming from the markets area. The suicide bomber detonated outside a felaffel shop which was not selling kosher for pesach stuff- so it was pretty packed. Instantly people got on their mobile phones to call people. I heard the word 'pegooah' (bomb) being frantically utterred, then the next thing we know, 100's of police cars and ambulances and fire trucks were zooming past and the road was closed off and sirens were wailing and we're not moving anywhere in traffic, and the driver turned the radio up so we could listen to the news. I called my boss to say I would be late and he said he also heard it go off from our work, and he could see out the window all the traffic jams... it was nice that he was so concerned about me and told me not to worry and asked if I was ok... which I was.. but he knows that I'm new here, and most Israelis are no longer sensitised to this kind of thing, so he was just trying to look out for me and check . In fact, for example, the guy sitting next to me on the bus just continued reading his book throughout the whole ordeal. Other people decided to get off the bus and go check out what was happening....

There's a big push for blood donation here. Unfortunately (or fortunately for me?) AB positive is just not in high demand at all, so I didn't feel guilty about not giving any that day (There were mobile units you could go into everywhere).

Anyway, after Pesach, as I mentioned we would do in my last blog, Eli and I took a little vacation down to Eilat. Yay!!!
Eilat is about a 4hr bus ride south from Tel Aviv and you drive through the beautiful Negev (desert). Eli pointed out army bases and shooting ranges to me and a big de-salinating plant (where water is taken from the Red Sea and the salt taken out of it- Israel were apparently the brains behind this kind of ingenious technology- I don't understand why droughts pose such a huge problem still if there is such excellent technology which can combat this? There is so much sea water to draw from. No?) Anyway, Eli also educated me about the controversial massive fishing farm which we passed in the middle of the desert, which is owned by a big Japanese company. (Lena, so much of the fish you're eating there probably comes from Israel!) We also got to see the sun set over the desert mountains (if I didn't add in desert there you may have thought the mountains were green, but they are in fact a dry redish-orangey-brownish colour and they seem to be everywhere you turn. Like this.)

Eilat is situated on the Red Sea and the Red Sea is considered to be possibly the world's 2nd best place for snorkelling (alongside the Great Barrier Reef? Is that what you said Alex?). So Eli and I did some amazing snorekelling. Eli had never really been snorkelling before (apart from the time we went together in Sinai 2 years ago, and Eli stepped on a spiky sea urchin and was bleeding all over the place so we didn't last very long), and I had forgotten about this, however this became apparent when I detected an abnormal amount of excitment from him, especially when he would make unusual comments such as: "oh my god! I could actually see fish! Like, we were just swimming with them. Just like that. With the fish. Lots of fish. Everywhere... actually inside the water. With us!" etc etc... It was quite exciting though, I must admit, because I had never seen such a colourful coral reef like that before either- with big colourful fish and so many of them, and in such crystal clear water. Everything was just teeming with life. We even saw a couple of cea cucumbers. Eli was convinced they were poo. It was a strange experience also to be snorkelling on top of people who were scuba diving below us. Their bubbles kept tickling me as I swam over them. :-)

Basically, we lazed around the water all day. (exhibit a) under our beach umbrella (an excellent investment! Thank you Sarah) Eli read alot of Ibsen. Don't ask...

At night we slept in our tent right by the water. It was beautiful. Only thing was, we couldn't sleep past 8am because it got hot, DAMN hot. About 36 degrees. So we swam some more...

On the way back, whilst driving in the bus along a deserted lonely road, we passed by 2 bedouins on camels who were riding along the side of the road. They had big Israeli flags. They waved to us in the bus and I wondered to myself, where they could possibly be heading to?

Speaking of Israeli flags, it's Yom Ha'atsmaut this week (Independence Day) and one would have to be blind if they weren't aware of it. In fact, blind wouldn't be enough- you'd have to be deaf too. Israeli flags are literally everywhere; hanging off balconies (and Tel Aviv is the city of balconies, everyone seems to have one- except us), they're hanging off every telegraph pole, criss-crossing streets, hanging down the sides of buildings, and off car aerials... It's patriotism overkill, but still kinda nice at the same time. There's a stand selling flags right next to my place, and all day they have Israeli folk music blaring from loud speakers. I don't understand why I keep seeing so many American flags around as well? That lone Turkey flag in the centre of that pic is a bit of a mystery too. I think it's just there to be politically correct. But it is an interesting photo isn't it?

Oh yeah! Of course! I forgot to put in a funny story about Eli (most of my funny stories seem to revolve around Eli, funny that..) So this one takes place at the Tel Aviv central bus station on the day that we were leaving to go to Eilat. Eli had the backpack with all our clothes and everything inside it, and he got to the entrance where security guards have to check everyone's bags. Usually Eli is exempt from this because he flashes some army card, but this time, because of the aforementioned bomb that week, there was heightened security and they had all the big tough guys out. So Eli told the guard he'll open the bag but he asked for him to please not touch any of the clothes inside because they're all clean, so he will pick them up and move them for him to see... So when Eli opens the bag, what does the guard do? He automatically puts his hand inside to see what's inside. So Eli snaps and says he doesn't want him touching the clothes and underpants and other private things because his hands "are dirty". Well, the guard was Ethiopian, and this didn't go down too well. So Eli tries to fix up what he says, and explains that it's not because he's black or anything like that, he just doesnt like people touching his clean clothes. So the guard yells for his big boss to come out and says Eli is a problem and he won't let the guard look thru his bag, and also that Eli had called him black and said he was dirty. The guard says Ok Righto (or the Hebrew equivalent)-and tells Eli to turn around and leave. So Eli then tries to sort things out the Eli way and says "Listen, I love black people" and the boss can't believe what Eli has just said, so Eli says that he doesn't mind having his bag checked by anyone, but he wouldn't like anyone to touch his or his girlfriend's clean underpants with dirty hands. The boss asks the guard "Did you check his bag or not? What happened?" And the guard said "He took a few things out, but I don't know about him, I think he's suspicious." So the boss let Eli in after giving him a caution. And that was that.

Other than that- right now in Israel there's a bit of a heat wave. It's 8:30pm and I am boiling. Summer is coming and things are happening here. Went to a Motorola music festival yesterday in Dizengoff. Streets were closed- there were different stages, like Russian and Israeli hip hop; break dancing areas, street theatre, South American Capoera, battle of the bands... Eli knew one of the boys in one of the high school battle of the bands, so we watched that competition and it was quite impressive. Funny to hear kids singing broken English lyrics with thick Israeli accents. Although i really shouldn't find that funny, you'd think I'd be used to that by now since I hear it all day. (Oh, by the way, I'm going to teach 2 VIP students soon who are actually big celebrities- and I'll be going to their place! Oooooooh!) Anyway, here I am wearing the sticker supporting that kid's band.
It was a fun day.
And tonight I'm going out with Shir. Yay! Go Go go
Love to all,
I'm signing off now
xxxx

'get your ass over to my paddy's passover'

First of all, chag sameach and happy easter to everyone! I can't remember who I did and who I didn't email this to already, but basically, it's worth checking out again anyway- so have a look at www.atomfilms.com/contentPlay/shockwave.jsp?id=matzah&preplay=1&ratingBar=off for a good chuckle. (You have to copy and paste the links into the address field because I still haven't worked out how to make these links hyperlinks, sorry!)
Also, check out http://au.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/sarahknopman/my_photos
for the new 'A bit of Feb and March' album.

For first night Pesach, we went to one of Eli's Aunty's place for dinner up in the North. When we travel up North by the way, to visit Eli's family, it takes about 2 hours to get there. But on Pesach, the whole country is travelling places so it took about 3 and a half. The seder was good- extremely loud (I just can't get used to how loud a group of 12 Morroccans can get- it's insane!). We did a very abridged version of the haggadah reading, and basically got straight into the food after about 15 mins. I read in Hebrew for a bit and impressed everyone :-)

It's strange here, everyone gets Pesach presents from their employers- so I was pleasantly surprised to receive a big aromatherapy present from Wall Street (which included a big chunky mango candle and smaller candles and bath salts) plus a 250 shekel voucher for Golf- which is a designer label here for clothes and homeware. How cool is that? Yay!

Pesach is obviously very different to how I'm used to it back at home. First of all, being a Jewish country and all, everyone is basically on holidays right now, so many shops and businesses have closed down for the week. And everyone goes away. We spent the first 2 days in the North and we'll be going back there on Tuesday and Wednesday again to celebrate Maimoona with Eli's other side of the family. Maimoona is apparently a traditional Morroccan holiday which takes place on the last 2 days of Pesach. I think it involves just more eating, I'm not sure though exactly what to expect, but I'd say that's a safe guess. Then on Thursday and FRiday, Eli and I plan to go down to Eilat to snorkel. The weather is getting much hotter now. If Nitzan (Eli's cousin) and his pal come with us then they'll bring their jetskis and we'll be doing some of that as well. yay!!! Nitzan by the way, is Eli's cousin who is in a wheel chair. His best friend- who seriously goes with him everywhere- is Ido, who is permanently on crutches. The 2 of them are very funny together. Sometimes completely inappropriate. For example- we're all at a cafe and the waiter comes to serve us and mentions how he's so exhausted because he's been on his feet all day and he's complaining about how busy and tired he is. Nitzan will say "you've been on your feet all day? I haven't been on my feet for 10 years! Do you hear me complain?" And he and Ido will crack up laughing whilst the waiter turns bright red. They enjoy this sort of dark humour. The 2 of them have decided they've worked out a plan how they're going to save lots of money. They're going to India together. And they're going to rent out their places whilst they're gone. They've calculated that they actually save money by holidaying in India rather than living in Israel. Haha! What a brilliant plan!
When we were driving to the North in Nitzan's car, (and boy what an awesome car it is!) we wanted to stop off at a shop to buy a drink, and someone in front of us pulled into the disabled parking spot. This happens a lot in Israel and it drives Nitzan crazy (understandably) so he invarialy ends up parking on the sidewalk and puts a letter in the window to explain why he's parked there. So this time, he got out of the car rally fast and was going over to them in his wheel chair when they saw him and reversed out of there quick smart.

In other news, a couple of weeks ago I went along to a wedding which Eli was playing at. It was in Zichron Yaakov, which was about 1.5hrs bus drive from my work. It was a very nice and most unusual wedding. The bride was Israeli. Her mother and grandmother were Yemen, and her father was Portugese. She was marrying a Mexican guy who had converted to Judaism for her (reform)- and all his devout Chistian Mexican family were there as well as some of his friends from the States- where he had been living for the last 8 years or so. So under the Chuppa, it was one big balagan, with 2 rabbis and everything being translated from english to hebrew to portugese... then again for the speeches, everything was being translated into 3 languages. The father of the groom wore a big sombreo, and the mother wore sunglasses, and fro the opposite spectrum, the Yemen grandmother of the bride was wearing some traditional Yemen sack-looking garb. Then there was traditional Yemen dancing which was very entertaining- reminded me of something I saw in Ubud in Indonesia- where the dancers go into a trance. He was just sooo happy dancing!
Of course, need I say it? The food was superb. You know, I really love going to weddings to watch Eli play. I really feel like it's a night out for me. Always great entertainment, I cry at all the weddings, I eat great food, I dance...I speak to random people, it's brilliant! Lucky for me at this wedding I had lots of Aericans to chat to.
Yeffy is the band leader and singer. We went to visit him as well on Pesach. He lives in a moshav- like a village where everyone knows everyone. It's the complete opposite of city life there. Everything's so quiet and peaceful and full of nature.. people chew on grass and share cats.... that sort of thing. He's the one I spoke about previously who had 5 generations around the table. Well it happened again. I'm always so overwhelmed when we visit! It's so nice! Whilst we were there, one of the little kids got her head stuck in the stair railings. It was a big mission to get her out. Yeffy saved the day. He is extremely charming and nice and sweet that man, and he sings well and dances well too. (Ask Jord! :-) )He loves to tease Eli and dance with me, then pass me back to him as if- "now it's your turn, show us what you can do" :-) Eli in fact said to me after that wedding, 'maybe we should start ballroom dancing or salsa dancing classes'. Can you believe it? It was actually his suggestion, not mine! I can't believe it! So we're looking into it. now.. one of my students at WS runs a salsa dancing school... I need to speak with him.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, speaking about nature- on election day- which was March 28- Eli and I took his mum, Eti, on a road trip up north to the Golan Heights, to a historical place called Gamla. It was fascinating! See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gamla
Along the way we picked up a hitchhiking soldier who was in the same unit as Eli used to be in the army. It's just the done thing here. At Gamla, we went on a trek and hiked for a few hours.
It's eagle season and we saw lots of eagles. In fact, through one kind man's binoculars, we even got to see some scavenging on a dead cow! We also saw Israel's tallest waterfall. Yay. Then we continued on our merry way to Tierius to eat fish from the Kineret. It was very nice. All in all it was a lovely day.

In conclusion, Eli and I have discovered a cheap pool place right next to our house- finally! Israel has a drastic shortage of pool/snooker bars. So we've picked up a new hobby, alongide basketball and jogging and playing with kittens and going to our corner bar to watch the basketball finals on the tv- it's the first time in my life I've ever lived without a tv. Even when I was backpacking with Lena around the world for 8 months, we kept catching TV in hostels here and there... but here I feel I never watch anything! Just 2 German channels. And that keeps me occupied.

Once again, happy holidays to everyone, and I hope you are all well- I will catch up with the personal emails very soon, I'm sorry about the delayed response! Take care y'all xxxxxxx