Bayit, Bayit M'tukah (roughly "Home, Sweet Home")

Shalom m'Yisrael, Riders shel haBack shel Ziggy! (Hello from Israel, Riders of the back of Ziggy!)

Okay, that's enough "Hebrew" for now. I'm sure we'll get to plenty more of that as I learn it. Just went to dinner with one of my roommates, an Israeli law student and a bunch of his classmates. Didn't understand much! I'm getting the feeling that I'm going to be feeling like an idiot a lot in the coming weeks*.

Here are some photos of the neighborhood and apartment that I share with the law student and an architecture student, who I've not yet met and whose existence I can not confirm with any certainty. Of course, I've only been moved in for about seven hours.

Back home, I used to complain/joke about how long and complicated my address was. Here is my new street sign. As soon as my Hebrew improves, expect the complaining/joking to commence anew!

This is my building. Good ol' Smolenskin 3! My room is just inside the open door on the 2nd floor, far left.

This is the entrance to the building. You walk in to a normal apartment building lobby, except that there's no door to/from the outside! It's not an outdoorsy place; it's indoorsy, yet nodoorsy.

Evidently, the current or former owner of the apartment in which I live is a Dr. Pechthold. Or that is the name of the door on which this plate appears. I've not yet been here long enough to determine whether doors are named and some awarded doctorates.




The view upon crossing the threshhold that Dr. Pechthold protects. (I've decided to go with the named doctor door unless I find out otherwise.)

My room. View number 1 is from the door, facing the desk and door to the mirpeset (balcony). Okay, really, no more Hebrew today! View number 2 is from the mirpeset toward the bed.

I'd show you the closet, etc., but I don't want to wake my jet-lagged roommate, who is napping in the bed....

Well, of course he's here with me! He's going to be a rabbi, too!

And finally, the view to the southwest from my balcony...

The Prime Minister's home. If you look closely, you can see a security car with flashing lights in the foreground, and a metal barrier behind it. There are always soldiers patrolling. I live on a safe street. If you're going to mess with me, I recommend doing it elsewhere!

Sorry if the spacing of this post is a little crazy. The photos seemed to have overwhelmed blogger!

How Unsurprising The Important Lessons Are

About 26 hours from now, I'll be at Memphis International Airport, out of which I've flown scores of times, but almost never for an international journey. This time is different. Not only will I be leaving the country, I'll be staying gone, if all is well, for almost a year. Personally, unprecedented.

This has required me to fully move out of my condo, in which I have lived for almost nine years. The few of you who've been over can imagine the unbelievable adventure that cleaning it out and making it ready for a new tenant or owner (interested? It's available!!) has been. As I've made (tried to make, at least) the condo clean and clear, while also spending time with friends and family before I go, I've been struck (actually struck! Right over the head! Okay, fine. Figuratively.) with renewed recognition of long-established priorities.

As the moments tick toward departure, I feel less and less connected to the stuff that has surrounded me in my home. What I saved over the years and carefully sorted weeks ago, I am now giving away and throwing away freely and gladly. Way too much stuff! Why did I save it? Why did I want it? Why did I care? And the things of which I am now in the final stages of ridding myself, when in disorder (which, let's be honest, was pretty regularly) often kept me from inviting friends and family over and spending time with them in my home.

As the moments tick toward takeoff, I feel more and more connected to the people in my life. To family and close friends, sure, but to others who've played smaller, even miniscule roles in my daily life, too. As much as I may love my telescoping fork (and I do really love it!), or my little plastic toilet that squirts you with water when you open the lid (caught it once at a Mardi Gras parade), or my approximately 1.7 million t-shirts (I was going to say billion, but I didn't want to exaggerate), I'm realizing again what I've always known deep down. My "valuables" are people. My friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances, each of whom brushes his own vividly colored strokes onto my life's canvas with her actions, words, companionship, humor, emotions, and thoughts.

Don't worry, wonderful people of my life. I do not plan to box you up and stack you in my parents' playroom/office like my Burger King costume and so many other ridiculous items that now reside there. I do, however, plan to continue treasuring you and being thankful that you choose to share some of the moments of your life being in mine.

Oh, and I plan to harrass you about coming to visit me in Israel this year. Book your flights! Oh, and if you're coming, can you stop by my parents' house and get that fork for me?