Hey There Sandy

It's more then safe to say that I was just as prepared for the one and only Sandy just as much as my fellow New Jersey-ites were.

I wore that Ramah (never once stepped foot in that camp) poncho loud and proud to greet those stormy seas. This storm was just too severe for my pink J.Crew frain coat (frain coat= fake rain coat. Gosh.)

Oh hello umbrella that was tightly held in my right (shoutout righties) hand. You practically saved my life from that virtual rain.

Israeli outcome of Sandy- 4 leaves fell off a tree.

Sandy, you wish you could have knocked down 5 leaves.




Email I sent to my fam jam as Sandy slowly nears. As Sandy returns from Texas.

"I will just like to wish you a farewell for the next few days until you get power back.
Happy dining on canned tuna and corn.
Be merry with the gallons of water provided not just from Poland Spring, but from the heavens up above.
Realize this is reason number 7395 you should come and join me in this " and tomorrows forecast will be 84 and sunny. Wait that's not just for tomorrow that's for the next a thousand years" country.

Start rounding those flashlights
Get those rain boots ready

On your marks, get set, SANDY!"

So I thought this was an excellent email. Apparently only my brother Shaya did as well. Thanks Su.

A Friday Adventure...

Again, amazing blog (well at least I think so). Not chronological.

Date: Give or take 5 weeks ago.
Weather: Hot. This is a must know.
Receiver of the Facebook message: a friend... hey Rena.

So Adina and Nissana were here for Shab Shab and it was their job was to get the drinks.

Proof that in fact A & N were here. 

Anyhoo, everyone was too busy making potato kugel, so out of the goodness and boredness of my heart I offered to go on a little field trip up the road (it was back in the Katamon days. Hence the "give or take 5 weeks ago") and get the drinks. Someone gave me her credit card and off to the mall I went with that baby.
JOKES.
 I would never do such a thing. As I was leaving they told me we need more eggs for the kugel.
So I was on my jolly way.
Drinks and eggs.
Drinks and eggs.
Drinks and eggs.
The sun was shining (and not sparingly, if I may add), the birds were chirping, Friday mid-day in the holiest place. What an excellent life!

And then I walked into the supermarket.

It was psycho-ville, but all I had to get was drinks and eggs.
I found the perfect pack of eggies after pushing some person over since she was hogging the floor I needed to step on. And I got some drinks- coke, peach spring, and Sprite since when I asked what drinks to get SPRITE was very much emphasised.

Finally after waiting on a 22 minute line with some wacka doodle doo attempting to speak to me and me pulling the "ani eparon" card it was my turn.
I put all the food on the thing (obviously when I say thing you know exactly what I'm talking about. We are just that close) and started bagging it, but saw that the Sprite was no longer there, so I asked the lady (who by the way this was the third time in a week I had her. I thought we were besties at this point. I saw she had an engagement ring. We were so at the point of our employee consumer relationship that she would invite me to her wedding. Or so I thought) "EIFO HA'SPRITE?! As if some awful robbery had just taken place. For gd sakes I wasn't using my credit card and if they asked for Sprite, I will bring them their Sprite.
They will get that Sprite.
I will stop at nothing.

She said there was no code on the Sprite so she couldn't ring it up (ok, so maybe I wouldn't be a bridesmaid at this wedding anymore, but I could still potentially be invited).

1) This has seemed to be a current issue in this supermarket.
Solution: Get someone who's job is to "code" things whatever that may mean. Solution two: If you have a guy with the title The Coder, FIRE HIM
2) Code or no code, I searched high and low in your supermarket for these items. I endured waiting on a line. I want what I came for. And as I learned from Spongebob, the costumer is always right. So, if I say there is a code, whether there is one or isn't just give it to me.

Clearly these two ideas were not an option because she wasn't budging so I asked her if I could go to the drinks shelf, grab a new Sprite and she could ring that one up instead. I told her it would take two seconds, and if she doesn't believe me she could count.

And there went the wedding invitation.

She clearly was not into counting or watching people run, because ohhhh she got feisty.
"It won't take you two seconds. You can't run that fast. Now sign the receipt."
I truly have no idea what came across me at that moment. It's not like that supermarket was the only place in the entire Katamon, no in the entire Israel, no in the entire world, that sold Sprite. It's not like there was one Sprite left on the planet and I needed it. I have no idea why I couldn't leave with some dignity and just go into a makolet next door and get the stupid Sprite.

I told her that my friend is sick and all she wants is a Sprite.

She slammed the receipt on the counter, I got scared, and scribbled some sort of signature.
So much for playing the tough Israel.

Then I was passing a makolet and I saw they had Sprite (because in case you didn't know there are 5,000 Sprites produced every 2 minutes. Snapple Fact of the day. True or False?) so I put it on the counter and gave the guy the credit card to which he said "we don't take credit cards for under 20 shek."
Me: "I don't have cash and my friend desperately needs Sprite. That's all she has ever asked for."
Thank Hashem he saw how traumatic this entire experience had become and he let me pay for it with a credit card.

I finally got back to my apartment (drinks in the bubby cart... yes, laugh at me all you want. I am beyond embarrassed. But I WAS NOT THE ONE THAT BOUGHT IT. AGAIN, NOT MY IDEA, DID NOT BUY.* And eggs in my hand since I was too scared to wheel them. My hand was in the shape of the egg crate since I was holding them so tight.) and told everyone my Sprite adventures...

"but never fear guys, I am a hero once again and (wait for me to dramatically whip out the Sprite...) I GOT YOU SPRITE!"

The answer I get: "oh I didn't mean get Sprite specifically. I just said it to mean get any soda."

Ok. I can take that. No biggie that I ruined my reputation and got un-invited to a wedding.

"Fine. So I got the best eggies"
Answer I get to that- "oh I guess you didn't get our texts, we're not making kugel anymore."

Fun fact- there is no service in the supermarket in Katamon.


* Bubby cart update- the BC probably heard all the insults I made about it and decided enough is enough and broke on me one day when I had a ton of food in it. May it rest in peace. And may I never see or use anything like it again (well until someone buys it and then I remember how useful it is. I am squirming just writing that.
We have hands for a reason.

Officially A Voter (Well Once I Mail, Fax Or Scan It In But That's Not Important)

I've been hearing that there have not been enough pictures put up. 

Apparently this blog is also too self centered (then again that's the point of a blog I thought)

Unfortunately I can only please one party at a time. 

ME VOTING!!!

For the sake of this voting photo shoot I was looking for a red, white and blue outfit, but I still don't have a closet (notice the yellow duffel in the back? Yup, that's my closet) so green will just have to do. Go Libya, I guess. 

Warning: this is a really pathetic post. I just had to though.

Me and my absentee ballot... cheese!!

Woot woot. 

Writing the month before the date has never felt so good. Excuse the upside down-ness

Contemplation...  hmmmm. 

Any guesses who the lucky winner is? Go to the next picture...  Prepare for the shock of your life.
Dear Family, I 'm sorry. 

And the lucky winner is...! Dare me to be more patriotic? 

Thanks Daniella S. Ginsberg for these clearly professional photos.

It's About Time!!!!

Saying Sh'heciyanu isn't even enough to describe how happy I am to finally be able to say, I came. I saw. I conquered.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yABo7QBawU- Today's anthem.

Today, October 25 will be a national holiday (not because it's Rachelle's birthday... ;-) but because I had my first day of school! One class, but you gotta start somewhere. Clearly Bar Ilan is very into easing people in sloooowly. If only I could tell high school me that one day I would be so excited to start school.

I walked in to the room faking to be all cool calm and collected. Key word in that sentence- FAKING. Big time. I had my coffee in one hand, my iPhone aka my security net in the other. (One could say I was pulling a Kimmy Samet... who knew I was so into shout outs today) When I walked into the room some girl said something to me. I have absolutely no idea what she was saying. It could have been anything from "your shirt is inside out" to "I see your American and have no idea what is going on and I will hate you." It truely could have ranged. Great, I walked in and two seconds later someone is possibly hating me already. I know I'm good looking but calm down there, no need to be a hater.

The teacher came in. And we had to write our names, major/ minor and year on a piece of paper. FYI- I am getting so judged by the fact that I don't have a minor. It's like people won't talk to me because I'm the kid that's not minoring in something. I just can't get it right! When I had that five minute idea (maybe even less then that) once upon a time that I was going to minor in art history everyone (ha, I make it sound like everyone knew. Maybe one person knew aka my mom. I told you a five minute idea. No one get insulted here) was like "oooohhhh you can't minor. No one minors in things. Ew who does that. You're contaminated. This friendship is over." Clearly, I took that very personally and now that I am not minoring in anything it has come to bite me.
Message of the story- no I am not minoring in anything. Sue me. Or love me. Whatever floats your boat.

So fine we had to write down our life story (well to me it felt like my life story since that is all people seem to ask me these days. Name. Major/minor and year. Like do you want to know where I was born? Who my second grade teachers were? Obviously not.) This guy asks me if he could borrow my pen to write down his info. My hands were legit shaking. He had to catch the pen from my hand. If I wasn't me and I saw that I think I would call 911. Poor kid.
Well for this teacher writing down your info wasn't enough, he wanted all of us to become buddy buddies so we had to say our life story too. I think I melted.
You know those stories of people "dying" and then coming back to life? So I think that happened to me today.
Like really? They really need to hear my accent in the first 7 minutes.
I should write a book. "How To Not Make Friends In Israel"- Way number one- SPEAK. And not only speak but speak with the abnormally strong New York accent that is slowly just turning into a curse.

So it was my turn. I think I did pretty well. I now know that in a case of emergency and panic (which this certainly was) I remember my name, my major and my year in University. Because what else matters in life, right?
Clearly Israelis and Americans have the same sense of humor because after I said my name my teacher said "ahhh kimo ha'caffe"Ha. Ha. Freakin Ha. I have never ever ever heard that hilarious joke before.

Then down to business. Class started. Shockingly I understood way more then I thought I would.

Somehow the topic went from why and how Modern Jewish History got the title Modern to how nice shuls are in America. It is very possible I was putting words into his mouth, but I really think that's what was flying. I think I was glowing. Actually glowing. All of a sudden I remembered shuls in America looking like Beverly Hills mansions (I can assure you my shul does not look like that). If one of them were to ask me what my shul looked like I think I would have answered, "gold. Just gold. Oh and some diamonds here and there. You know, the usual."

My notes. It doesn't matter that there were 1 million Jews living in America in 1900. It matters that America was mentioned. Best moment of Bar Ilan so far. USA USA USA

Ok then some more Hebrew gibberish, and then he asked the best question ever.

"Who knows what haskala is in English?"
I was thinking, "ok I am going to give these losers a chance to shine and show off their "rocking" English skills. Some girls raised her hand and said education.
Now, at the time I had no idea that haskala in Hebrew does mean education. No worries, about a half hour later I found out. You know, right after judging this girl insanely because she was so pretentious thinking she knows English and all that.
Anyhoo, she says education and I'm thinking what an idiot. It means enlightenment. Do you not know anything? Like I own this class because I know exactly what he's saying and she doesn't even know what haskala means in English. Uch I'm going to have to tutor her and be extra nice to her because clearly she doesn't know English and just needs help in life. Yes, this all made sense in my head.
Anyways, when the teacher said "no it means enlightenment." it was possibly the best SHABOOYA I OWN YOU moment of life.
Yes, as I said before my friend, Shayna (woohoo again with the shout outs. It's your lucky day.) told me a little later that indeed haskala does mean enlightenment.
Well whatever, she should have understood the context in which he was asking better. So yes, I still rock. I charge 50 shekel an hour for my English services.

Once class was over, it was the moment you (well at least I) have been waiting for. My chance to shine when I go up to the teacher and say how amazing I am for doing what I am doing and he should start praising me now because it may take all year.
So I fix my hair a little, you know gotta look good for this big, huge, life changing moment.
I had this massive smile on my face. You would think someone just gave me a million dollars and my own private island. Nothing could destroy this moment for me.

Me: "Shalom!! Ani oleh chadasha v'..."
"Yodati."

That's it?! No balloons falling from the sky? I no longer wanted to give him my whole speech that I practiced numerous times and even wrote out. He did not deserve that.
Instead he deserved an email a half hour later (it took me so long to type I could have taken a nap, woken up, made a snack, cured cancer, and saved Darfur in the amount of time it took me to write this three line email in Hebrew. I am telling you a taf on the Hebrew keyboard just doesn't exist.) asking to clarify what the homework was.

And there it is day one. Well class one.
Strike back on next week? Who knows.

P.S.- Ronit says she loves this blog and you should show people because she wants me to become rich and famous. What a selfless friend.

In The Last Five Minutes...

Usually I don't post breaking news, as they are happening events, but this one is just way too good to wait. Way too good.

If you didn't know there has been a strike in Bar Ilan conveniently since Sunday, the first day of school then stop saying "ohhh Lottie I love your blog ohhh ohhh" and actually read my blog. I may begin testing people on my life. Yes, my ego has been growing rapidly.

Anyways, this strike finally ended last night meaning my four month vacation has finally come to a close. I think I have covered everything there is to do over this vacation- spent more than enough time with my family, with my friends, casually moved countries, you know because everyone does that, learned the ABC's of Israeli bureaucracy, have apparently become more friendly (even though I see no change), slowly easing into this thing called Skype, and you know for someone that video chatting just isn't my thing (I can send a ten page paper as to why to whoever wants) this is a big deal. This vacation is slowly making me go insane from absolute boredom, maybe that's why I've been talking too much to people I normally don't talk to (JOKES. CALM DOWN).
Ok so great the strike is over and last night I looked at my Wednesday schedule. One class from 12-2 and then one from 2-4. Hazzah! The first day of school has finally arrived, even though it is coming to the end of October. It's not about the date or what month it falls on, it's about the occasion. Just pretend that made sense.
So as I am online choosing which lunchbox to buy, I have a little peak at what is going on in the Facebook world, because it is a proven fact that every 12 seconds something extraordinary is written or discovered and if I don't know about what some kid from camp 7 years ago wore two days ago no one will talk to me at the Friday night dinner table.
Something from one of these random Bar Ilan groups popped up that there is no class tomorrow from 12-2 because of some first day of school shindig. Like are you serious?! I just want to start already. I don't do bonding or let's all pretend we are so happy to be here and not counting down until these three years are up so we can move on.
But fine, one class cancelled, but I still have one more. Let's be positive.

All I have been waiting to do since I got here was to go up to my teacher and say "Hi! I just made aliyah. Heard that? I just made ALIYAH. I am a very important person and deserve all the help I can get from you, because if it wasn't for me this country would have a population of six million Jews and now they have a population of six million and one. So you might as well just give me an A in this course now so we can both get on with our lives."
And the good news is at 2 o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, my first day of school (finally! Yes, saying "finally" is always needed after I write "my first day of school") I get to say that.

Woke up this morning. The usual. Something about this morning though made me want to wear my contacts all of a sudden. You know, I wasn't in the mood to wear my glasses ( I figured I would need to for the first few weeks since I can't see building numbers) and hold a big map. I wanted to meet my future bridesmaids and that was not how I was planning on looking. Ok, so I spent a few minutes stabbing my eyes trying to get those stupid things in, but no no they don't budge.

I was on Jcrew.com looking for a cute idea for an outfit when I hear a little ding a ling on my iPhone (which by the way the speakers aren't working too well so if anyone knows how I can fix that I will pay you in potato chips. I have a lot of bags of potato chips for whatever reason), checked my phone and low and behold I get an email from my teacher who I have today at 2.
I thought he was going to say "Dear class, I am so excited to meet you and to learn with you and don't bother eating lunch today. Sushi on me!" or "Dear Lottie, you are the reason this country is still able to function. Here are all the tests I will be giving and here are all the answers. Our little secret."
I opened the email with pretty high hopes. The subject was "ain shiur hayom". Gosh, this teacher is not only giving me sushi for lunch but he's funny too! This is going to be a great year.

I read the email. Understood it, but thought I was losing my mind and put it into GT (remember, me and GT are on nickname basis). And yes, for once in my life I did understand it.

" Even though the strike is over, I won't be teaching until next week. See you then."

LIKE WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME GIVES HIM THE RIGHT TO DO THAT?!

You can't get what you want from the strike and then casually just take a vacation day. You just can't!
I think tomorrow I will just send the world an email and say "I know I am meant to be in college, but I am just no longer in the mood and I am taking a 7 month and 3 day vacation to Timbuktu."

As my brother Massye put it, "you will be diploma-less at 30." The odds of that are very much in his favor.

Ok, off to Jerusalem for the day. First day of school tomorrow. I think. I hope. I pray. That's all I can do at this point.

And I am not one for surprises.

Prophetic Times Are Back (Apparently)

Just a quick story time before I do this crazy thing called SLEEP.

The other day I was waiting for a local bus during my Jerusalem day trip. Some guy comes over to me and goes "what time is the next bus coming?"
So Little Miss Helpful (me) said (in what I thought was pretty solid Hebrew. This guy was probably thinking whoever taught her Hebrew should be put in jail.) "I don't know but as I was walking to the bus stop one was leaving."
Then he goes "I am not asking approximately how long it's coming I am asking when it's coming"
So I made up some time and he walked away.

Like do I look like a prophet or something?!
I'm very flattered, but no. Just no.

So About The School Thing...

In most schools the main words of the day on the first day of school are supplies, textbooks, homework, tests, you know all the super fun things that everyone just looks forward to doing. Well, that was in America.
I woke up Sunday morning all ready to start my first day of school. Supply-less and finally came to terms with the fact that no, I won't understand anything. I have endless amounts of survival skills. Endless.
Had my cup of coffee. Read the newspaper. Said good morning to the birds, because this is exactly what I do every morning. Gd forbid do I ever roll out of bed and skip breakfast and just about manage to say good morning somewhat friendly-ly  (yes, on my blog making up words is allowed. And encouraged. If this wasn't the case my blog couldn't exist primarily because half the words used are made up or grammatically not correct. Shhh.) Oh and whoever had the idea of pick your clothes out the night before just deserves thousands of dollars. Millions.
Of course everything I did that morning needed to be very dramatic. All the morning's events leading up to my first class (and only class that day, big deal) at 2 o'clock must be recorded in my baby book. My last time brushing my teeth before I am officially a college student. My last time cleaning the shower drain, hopefully ever, but also before I am a college student.* My last time checking my emails before I became the coolest college kid on the block eating my lunch on the quad (which is what in Hebrew? Yes, that's all I want to achieve in life- eat lunch on the quad.). Or so I thought.

*My very threatening sign about the shower drain. I have never felt more like my sister.

I opened up my emails and that was before I knew what a strike was in Hebrew. Ha what an armature  and it was less then 48 hours ago. Into Google translate (anyone know when it's GT, yes we are on nickname basis, birthday? Gotta get the makers of this thing a private island.) I go and walla I got my answer. Nope I didn't need freshly sharpened pencils for my first day or the biggest cheesiest "I am pretending I am so happy to be here but I really just want to crawl into that hole and hibernate until July" smile. I just needed to sit on my ugly couch all day, because October 21, my first day of college in Israel there was a shvita. That's strike for all you ignorant Americans.

P.S.- I wanted that post to not be so story-esque so this little tidbit I'm about to share didn't really fit in hence the P.S. (By the way, is it just me or do "P.S.'s" make you feel really VIP and like your part of some exclusive club. Only normal people get the letter. VIP's get the letter and the P.S. Ok, just my feeling of the day.)
All of my teachers were striking as of Sunday. I thought they would all be so happy to come back to school and see me, you know the kid that just made aliyah and is practically making the world a better place with just her presence. But apparently that was not on the agenda. Ok fine, go on strike. Do your thing. Make your signs and go picket rally or whatever it's called.
Then Monday morning I get an update email that one of my teachers, my Thursday teacher, is no longer striking.
Best moment of my life. Finally I can whip out that new outfit I have been saving and look all school-y and studious (emphasis on the look, not the act. I have no idea how to act studious. I was given a lot of talents, that's what my mom tells me at least, studiousness is no where near on the list.). My countdown to my first class of the year was on.
Thursday Thursday gotta get down on Thursday because I have class la la la la.

Got an email this morning, which I basically read as follows. "You've been punk'd! The professor is on strike. We just wanted to mess with you because we are just as bored as you are. So put that new outfit far far away."

If they were punking me- get a hobby. OR the other alternative is who goes on strike, then off strike then back on strike?! It makes no sense to me. None. But then again so does this whole culture, but we'll save that for another time.

Here was the conversation:  "here we are giving you what you want.  By the way, you have a nice newbie waiting for you in the front row Thursday. She will look like she is about to cry. Odds are she will be crying."
Prof: "ok, I'm going back on strike."

So to recap (wow do I feel like I am teaching you all a gemara or something), the strike is either Bar Ilan punking me, the prof having problems and perhaps some sort of amnesia (anyone know a doctor I can suggest for him?), or it's me. No reason why, just me.

The latter usually always seems to be right.

The Rova Zoo

And today in the rova, we are offering donkey rides!

Because the kotel is so 2,000 years ago and our in house animal, the cat (or the catS- emphasis on the "S"), is awfully unfriendly, we have brought in the donkey to entertain the youngsters. 

Don't fret the petting zoo is coming next week

After living in the rova for a year and a half this was the first time a double take was highly necessary. Perhaps they are trying to relive the past. I dare not ask anymore.

But this did make me wonder, did Avraham wear a helmet when he rode his donkey?

Orientation... Joy.

I received an email from Bar Ilan about a week ago about orientation. As I do with all my Bar Ilan emails, I see they are in my inbox and don't open them and just pretend they don't exist. I do this until I realize it will come back to bite me if I keep ignoring it. Ever wonder why I signed up for classes oh so late? And why my schedule (assuming I did it right, which I am severely questioning) deserves the worst schedule award?
Anyhoo, when I finally gathered the courage to open the what you would think was a death sentence email based on my facial expression, it said that orientation would be on Thursday, October 17 at 1:30 and details of a location will be sent in the following email.
Needless to say, details of the location were not sent in the following email. And that's not because I was too scared to check my emails from Bar Ilan.
Me, Ronit, and Daniella left our apartment (which is about a 1 minute and 12 second walk, well 3 minute walk if you plan on making an Aroma pit stop) at 1:15, because gd forbid should we be late for orientation. We don't even know what late means. Late does not exist anywhere in our dictionaries.
It was a very busy day on the road. Crossing the street took longer then expected, just FYI. So thank gd we gave ourselves that extra 15 minutes.
We got to Bar Ilan about 5 minutes before this orientation, location-less shindig began.
The best way to get to know a campus is to look for an orientation location. We walked everywhere. High. Low. Close. Far. I wish I could sound more like a Dr. Seuss book, but I can't think of anymore adj's (it's late, you know.)
We met up with fellow wanderers.
Oh, and this orientation was for new olim so I was convinced they were going to tell us how amazing we are for doing something so difficult and how we are basically changing the world. Yes, I would like to think I am changing the world by attending college in Israel. Iran is no longer a nuclear threat because now, I, Lottie Kestenbaum am attending a college in Israel. So chill.

My student ID. They asked for a passport picture. I understood that as my actual passport picture. Hence I look like a terrorist. Note to self- a passport picture means a passport size picture. Genius. 

But no no. Clearly their aim was to put us through the "can you really survive in this country" test and make us suffer and be nomads in a new campus. I was not leaving until we found this location.
Survival of the fittest is on.
I will not eat, or sleep. I will find this orientation and get the praise that I deserve.
Finally after our wandering group multiplied (my water was running low at that point. It was getting dangerous as the heat continued to pound. Poetic license is always prohibited.) Daniella got a text with the location.
About 22 other people were there.
What a party. And no freebies (last orientation I was at was the Stern one- story of it's own. There was a table of just presents. I came home with more pressies than I get on my birthday. A laundry basket, a frisbee, mincha/maariv, just to name a few. What did I do with all these things? Throw them out. Shhh.) all I wanted was a Bar Ilan shirt which duh I was going to wear all day everyday.

Topic of conversation- how much getting your tests translated into English will be (accepting donations now). And ask for help because you will have a hard time and want to go home.

Thanks for the encouragement.

My first day of school is tomorrow (assuming there is no strike which is the word on the street).
I think I may fake sick.

Oh jolly. 

Visiting hours in my apartment will be between 2-4 (aka when my class is. Please don't ask what it is about. I wish I could tell you.)

Fun Fact About Tuesday's...

My blog is like the Torah. Amazing and not chronological, so you are all just going to have to go with the flow.

(Sent to a friend on August 28... It was a Tuesday. This will be very relevant in about 7 seconds or 2 minutes depending on your reading quickly skills.)

Everyday is a new day and today I woke up with the sun (literally) at 6am.
Background to the story- we have been calling Misrad HaKlita (absortation office. That is what the air hostess on my aliyah flight called it.) since the day we stepped foot on this holy ground (song reference: SoulFarm- "take your shoes off Moses you're on Holy Ground..."http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6N3iz4pgKQ). Misrad HaKlita is the place that in a nutshell gives us free money for existing. Of course, you only exist if you live in Israel. So worth making aliyah. But so not worth it because they never pick up their phones.
I tried giving them the benefit of the doubt and figured that one of the phone picker up-ers went into labor and the other one was delivering the baby (think that scene in Rat Race. Precisely what was going on.) However, as the weeks went on (yes, we have only been here for two weeks but it has felt like so much more. I think I have aged significantly.) have gone past I no longer thought there is a future Misrad HaKlita worker being bounced around or that their phone is off the hook for excessive periods of time, or no, their battery did not die. They are just too lazy and incompetent and enough is enough!
We woke up at the crack of dawn with our "heck no we won't go" and "we are going back to America if you don't give us the dough" signs. We got to their office at 7:45, 15 minutes before the enemy's doors open. We waited outside and waited but nothing.
Then out of the corner of my eyes I saw movement.
We asked them if they will be so kind to let us into the building that is meant to embrace our existence but has instead been ignoring us.
Their response- " OH SORRY WE ARE CLOSED ON TUESDAY'S" (I told you to remember the very important fact is was a Tuesday.)
They pick Tuesday to be the day they close. What possibly goes on on Tuesday that they must oh so desperately need to take a day off?!
Maybe they are all for the environment and nature was created on Tuesday, so they sit in the park all day?!
Maybe they prepare for the holy Sabbath THREE DAYS IN ADVANCE?!
Best part is it says on the inaccurate, lying website "ve opeeeen on Tuesday at 8 o'clooock."
Um no you don't, you make new olim cry and ruin their day, their week, their month, on Tuesday's at 8 o'clock.
Not only do you lie, but you keep money from me.

UPDATE: I have begun to recieve my six installments for money. Thanks to all Israeli citizens for your money. Loving this!

And It All Happened Before 8am...

Yesterday morning, October 17, 2012 (I will remember the day before since I expect a present every time this day comes around), the day after I moved, the morning after I slept on a floor (since I am forbidden to get a second hand mattress. My parents would rather I sleep on a hard tiled floor then gd forbid sleep on a second hand mattress), smack in the middle of my "WHAT WAS I THINKING MOVING HERE AND GOING TO A SCHOOL IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE" meltdown, I went to Ben Gurion airport to meet my brother, Zushye. Did I mention the time was 6am? Best big sister award? I think yes.

I've deserved the best sister award ever since I let Z use my pink bouncy chair

I took a cab since I knew at 6 am I am in no state to be figuring out a bus situation. No state at all.
When I got to the airport I looked at the board with the times and lucky me his flight was delayed 40 minutes.
I was very on top of being there on time because the night before my best friend, Daniella, made aliyah and to cut a long story short which I would like to think was no one's fault I missed it. Yes, I was sitting on a bus to the airport with all my welcome home signs for D when I got the dreaded phone call. "Ummm so they said if I want the free cab I can't wait for you any longer and I need to leave." So I cried. Got sushi. Went home. Holding the welcome to Israel signs. It was such a breakup scene.

Me & Daniella back in 9th grade. Peace yo. 

Anyhoo back to my wonderful Tuesday morning in the airport. So the flight was delayed and I needed to kill quite a lot of time. I saw everyone was holding balloons, so I figured better to be in the trend then out, so I went to the balloon store. I don't know why but I was in the "yay let's speak Hebrew" mood. I whipped out my handy dandy iPhone (I promise I did not take it out as dramatically as I am making it seem.) and looked up how to say balloon in Hebrew. Obviously it's one of those words that are the same in Hebrew and English, but to be fair to me without nekudot it's very difficult to tell. So in my head a balloon was a belon. To be fair to me again at this point it was 6:29 in the morning, my Lacoste thinking cap was still not turned out.
I turned to the women looking at her with the "you think I am a tourist but actually I live here and I am going to show you that with my rocking Hebrew", and asked her for a belon. Yes, a belon. It rhymes with melon. Duh.
She rightfully so said "MAAAA". So I said it louder "ANI ROTZAH BELON." This went on for about 5 minutes. I was pointing to the "belon" so I don't understand why she had to play along. Just give me the belon and let's get on with our lives.
Finally. And I mean finally. Like after the flight from Moscow and London landed she goes "ehhhhh at rotza BALLOON?" Now, as I've said before I am never wrong, so I told her she has to idea what I want and she should start reading the Hebrew dictionary so she could learn what a belon is.
I will remember for the rest of my life now a balloon is a balloon. Why I need to make simple words so difficult, I have no idea.
Anyway, I left the store belon-less and got front row seats to see Z come out.
One of my favorite movies (I promise this is not an ADD moment, it really has to do with the blog post, it will all come together in about two lines) is Love Actually. To sum it up I love movies with obvious endings. Suspense is so not my thing. SO the opening scene in Love Actually is this-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDZUfGBUSeY
Favorite scene in the world.
There was a flight from Bangkok. Full of Israelis. It was that scene but violent. I never knew someone could miss each other so much they can fall down hugging them. It was pretty intense. They were probably gone for a week, why this needs to be so intense I have no idea. Let's just say my foot was stepped on several times and rolled over by suitcases before I decided I would rather not be suing these people for a broken toe their first day back in Israel.  I took about a thousand steps back and let these people do their thing.
The next group of people to come out was from this place that three eyes me (I decided not to wear my glasses or contacts that morning. Ha. Not like I ever wear either of them) saw was from UFO. I was thinking wow what a funky name. A flight from space or something. These people looked so Russian or Polish I can't even tell you. I thought they would kill me with their stares. I googled UFO, Russia turns out surprise that place doesn't exist. It was UFA, Russia. Ten dollars goes to whoever can figure out what that stands for.
These people were on some program. I really hope the program could manage to get some sort of smile out of them because landing in Israel certainly didn't. They straight up looked like they were going to a funeral. Communism ended 20 years ago... SMILE!
The name of their program was called Flying Carpet (is anyone else thinking that their mascot is Aladdin?). They all walked into the arrivals terminal wearing stickers that said flying carpet. Some poor guy (who I sincerely hope was making thousands of dollars) was holding a sign that said Flying Carpet. These people looked at the sticker on their shirt, looked at him, looked at the sticker again, until I am assuming the guy said (in Russian)"yes, you smartie pants, you are wearing that sticker because that is the name of your program. I am holding the sign because I am in charge of the program. Whom let's put two and two together and tada YOU are on my program"
The guy holding the sign for the program had to say about a thousand times (I am taking upon myself poetic license or whatever that is called to describe what he is saying. This is at least what it sounded like to me.) "Hello. Welcome to Flying Carpet (name of the program). Welcome to the 21st century also. We no longer wear our hair like Heidi or wear Amish style skirts." I'm sure he said more but I was so proud of him that he had the nerve to tell them that their hairdo's were bizarre looking. Again, poetic license.
Finally Newark (no no not New York which would be coming from JFK airport, but NEWARK, yes an airport in the greatest state of New Jersey.) was next to make the entrance. I took out my really pathetic looking sign and my non existent belon and waited for Zushye.
There were chassidim one after another. I had no idea Zushye was actually on a flight that left from Uman for the ones that got left behind post the chaggim). Black and white. Black and white. Black and white. Suddenly RED. Us Kestenbaum's always know how to make an entrance.

Yes, there is the red shirt. He's baaaaack!! 

So basically this post was not so much to write about how happy I was to see Z (because obviously I was thrilled) but more about my airport experience. So I'll stop writing now because once I saw him I don't really have anything else to share. Unless you are interested in the cab ride back to my apartment in Givat Shmuel (Yes, the move was successful!) and bumming around for the rest of the day. I think I will spare all of you.
Well as we say in Russian- do svidaniya (that's goodbye for you non cultured people)

Sunday Is Not Funday.

You would of thought my first Sunday would involve waking up late, making delicious brunch, watering the flowers (even if I had flowers odds are I would forget to water them), feeding the birds (toppins a bag- name that movie. Oh, also I am petrified of birds so this wouldn't happen either), baking a pie (which I would burn) you know just a lazy 1950's housewife like Sunday doing eco friendly activities I always do. Ha.

Yup, this is exactly the type of Sunday I was looking forward to.  Rocking that apron and all. 

Well not my first Sunday. My first Sunday as I mentioned in my last post involved getting a new Teudat Zehut, a new Rav Kav and learning a lot about my new surroundings. All I gotta say is when times get tough I listen to Frank Sinatra... New York, New York.

Yes, yes, I do miss this. Hence it's my Whatsapp background.  (photo credits- yours truly) 

I sent my friend these little shortie moments from that fateful day. Now they are public. I will be signing autographs tomorrow.

* You know when there is a long line, so there is that ticket machine thing with the numbers and you just wait for your number to be called? So in any other country that system works like a charm. Then you get to Israel. The first person in the line was number 34. The number on the screen was number 2. The people behind the counter started yelling at all of us that we don't come running the second our number is on the screen. I just wanted to yell back, " sweetie, it's because you don't count 2, 34, 35 etc." We had to wait and wait because according to them "someone must have those numbers."/ Of course someone has them, how can I be so silly... of course someone took number 1-34 and ran off with them. Wow Rav Kav workers really are always right.

Anyhoo, the scene was getting pretty feisty but I pulled the "ummm ani m'America, lo yodaat ummm klum" card a few times because I just couldn't be bothered playing lawyer for these people today. So, I was number 44 and finally, my silent prayers were answered and 42 was on the screen. Two numbers away from getting on with my life!! The women next to me stares me up and down, most likely to see if I will take her up on the dare she is about to tell me. She tells me she is number 43. I was thinking "great, you want a medal or a monument for that. Why do I care?" Then a minute later she whispers to me that she spoke to a lot of people and she knows that there is no 42. She told me to crumple up my ticket and hand it to her so no one sees and act like I am number 42 so she can be next. It was probably the most Mosad-esque moment I have ever had in my life. I gave her my ticket and ran behind the counter to get my Rav Kav before anyone saw. I just felt her beaming at me. What a great little future Mosad agent she made out of me.

And believe me that was by far the most scandalous thing I have ever done in my life.

* When I was in Misrad Ha'Pnim waiting on line to fill out the form for my new TZ, this was the conversation happening right in front of me.

Aussie woman: "I Have a working visa that expires September 1 and I want to extend the visa until Decemeber."
Woman behind the desk: " Ok well I can give you an appointment to come in in October to extend it."
Aussie woman (why she still wanted to stay after hearing the ridiculous response to her question is beyond me): " but my visa will be expired by October. I may get deported"
Psycho behind the desk: " You won't get deported. There is no other time for an appointment. Come back in October. Bye."

Well I'm sure this Aussie was shipped back to the outback September 2.

Moving Week

My version of I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane (because it's moving week babyyy!! The four and a half month summer vacation is over... very mixed feelings!)

"My bags are not packed

I am so not ready to go..."

Writing songs was never my thing. I hope you get the idea. 

A for effort?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19ToC8pQrCY

Come visit me in Givat Shmuel. I love guests. 

Missing: A One Day Old Teudat Zehut

The yeshiva bachur & I

I made aliyah on a Tuesday and one of my dear oh dear brothers of mine, Massye, landed in Israel on Thursday to begin his shana (I would like to think of it as chaim) ba'aretz. Being the best sister that I am (Dear Siblings, I am still patiently waiting for a "we got the best sister shirt") I decided to go to the rova Friday morning and meet up with him and give him all the tips and tricks of being a rova rat (which I was NOT).
Oh and by the way I got my teudat zehut on Thursday. Just a side note. It's not like this entire post is based around that or anything ;-)
When I got my teudat zehut it was stressed over and over again that it must be carried with us everywhere. Going shopping? Bring your TZ. Going one step out of your home? Bring your TZ. What  the heck the deal with a teudat zehut is I have absolutely no idea. You know how police men whip out their "I am a policeman, don't mess I.D. badge thing? So I do the equivalent- "I am Israeli, shabam." Not that that would help me in any situation and looking from the standpoint of the worlds attitude towards Israel it would most likely get me killed.
The picture I gave Nefesh B'Nefesh to use for my teudat zehut was the classic Lottie mug shot. I am obliged not to smile when I get passport pictures taken of me, apparently my eyes get all Chinese- esque. So I learned my lesson and instead of having the professional passport photographer (obviously they all went to F.I.T. to study photography) yell at me that he can't see me because I am smiling, I stand in front of the white canvas and just stare at them as if I am in jail until the picture is taken. I don't even bother looking anymore when they ask me if I like it, it's just far too depressing.

Exhibit A- my USA passport picture. I was yelled at when I smiled. Not something that happens daily 

So back to the story. In a nutshell my teudat zehut picture was me looking like a terrorist wearing a nude shirt. I promise I was wearing a shirt and I promise it was the color nude. Don't listen to what other people may say. But whatever at the end of the day this was my I.D. card and I am finally a real Israeli, deodorant-less (JOKES) and all.

The first TZ picture. Judge for yourself. 

Great. So I go to the rova bright and early Friday morning. Massye and I had to make our plans Friday night and play it all 1990's old school since the sim card for my phone had not arrived yet. Baruach Hashem, my iPhone was back in my hands and was not given to Mohamed-ette for Ramadan.
The minute I saw Massye I took out my teudat zehut and went on a rant about how he is just a tourist in my  country. That he counts for nothing here and it's like he doesn't exist, because obviously the only people that matter in Israel are people with teudat zehuts. What a foreigner he was. Such an American.
Once I brought the poor kid to metaphorical tears since I made him feel so guilty, I PUT MY TEUDAT ZEHUT IN MY WALLET AND MY WALLET IN MY BAG. I did. I really really did. AND I CLOSED MY BAG.
Massye then had to go so I told him that, I, the Israeli, have far better things to do then to hang out with such a tourist. Fun fact, that was a flat out lie.
I figured I would go to the kotel. You know first Friday in Israel as an oleh chadasha heading down to the kotel, how original.
There were a ton of people at the Kotel plaza, and my wallet was in my backpack and having a neurotic mother (WHO I LOVE DEARLY) who puts ideas in your head which are most likely true, I reached into my backpack to take my wallet out.
One problem it wasn't there.
I was going to my grandparents in Modiin for Shabbat and I brought all my clothes with me to the rova so I could just go straight. I spilled out all the contents of my bag on to a bench. When I say the contents of my bag I mean to say my bright blue polka dot PJ pants because that was about all I brought. No wallet.
I shook the contents of my bag out, aka the PJ pants and put my hand in my empty bag searching for a good 5 minutes. What I learned about myself in that moment in time is when I can't find things irrational thoughts go into my head. Such as perhaps my wallet is invisible or I can't see it I can only feel it. Don't ask.
Still no wallet.
I re-traced my steps about 12 times. Nothing. I gave a suspicious looking women a death stare. She just moved benches so she was no longer stuck in my stare.
Oh my goodness, I was going to get arrested for walking around without a teudat zehut. I was going to be the first oleh chadasha to be thrown in jail her first week in Israel. I mean that is definitely a way to get my name out there but not really what I had in mind.
I had no other choice but to be that neb that goes up to the Kotel security people in between sobs "can... I... borrow your your your... phone... I CAN'T... FIND... MY... WALLET."
Thankfully, one of the security people did not wake up on the wrong side of the bed that morning and handed me his phone. I told him I just made aliyah (it's great pulling out the aliyah card as often as humanly possible) and my phone is unlocked but I'm waiting for the sim card. He cut me off mid sentence and told me to just use his phone he doesn't really care why.
To make a very uninteresting story interesting, I lost a rather large amount of cash that day, two credit cards, my beloved Holy Bagel card, my gd sent oil blotting papers, a pretty solid eyeliner, my Rav Kav (with if I may say so myself a very good picture of me) and my new friend- my teudat zehut.
What to do, what to do?
I needed to wait until Sunday to go to Misrad Ha'Pnim to get my new teudat zehut.
Motzai Shabbat I couldn't sleep. I was going through every single terrible scenario that could potentially occur the following morning. I convinced myself I would get kicked out the country. I mean how suspicious is it that someone who made aliyah less then a week ago already lost her teudat zehut. They for sure were going to think that I wasn't a loyal Zionist, and I would be expelled forever. What would I tell my family?! What would I tell my friends?! How could I ever look at myself in the mirror again.
I walked in shaking that Sunday morning. One of the guys behind the desk had to fill out my form for me since I did know what the heck it wanted from me. The form asked for my address, telephone number, you know the normal. The guy for sure thought I was an idiot, but hey, at least I saved the ink in my pen since I didn't have to fill anything out!
Finally after waiting for 8 minutes (always go to these places early. Shockingly it is pretty organized and there are not too many lines. It's a morning miracle) (oh and I was totally timing how long I was waiting for) my number got called and I went up to one of the desks.
I told the Blondie what happened and she was laughing for a solid two minutes and saying in between laughs "and you just got it three days ago". Yes Blondie, I am aware I got it three days ago, get it all out of your system and give me my new and hopefully improved (I brought a better picture this time and I am wearing a jean shirt so no need for machlokets as to whether or not I am dressed) teudat zehut.
I guess losing your teudat zehut after three days isn't terrible. I was fortunate enough to bring laughter and happiness to Misrad Ha'Pnim so early in the morning. Mitzvah gedola lehiyot b'simcha, and I decided that the mitzvah is even bigger if you are the one supplying the simcha. So go me!

TAKE TWO!!! Please ignore the enlarged pimple... clearly it came from stress. 

In short I am now the owner of a beautiful new teudat zehut with a picture ten times better. So worth going through all that for a better picture. See, everything does happen for a reason!



Thanks whoever stole my wallet. And enjoy that purple eyeliner that was in there. Just FYI it isn't waterproof.

My Newest Hobby

Scenario: You have 15 minutes in Yemin Moshe to kill. Yes, only the most beautiful place known to man.

Solution: Make photography your newest hobby.

Enjoy!

P.S.- there was some guy with an entire film crew filming something in French (when I don't know what language aka if it's not English or Hebrew, it's always French, well at least for me). Anyhoo, filming this guy talking standing on a sidewalk or by the breathtaking scenery was far too normal for this film crew. Come on, we are in hip and happening times, things need to be taken to the next level.

This man was being filmed while he was crouching down in a rosebush. Please don't ask. I wish, I really wish there was a rational answer for the one question- "WHY?" 

The very few signs of fall in Jerusalem

I spy with my little eye

 

"It's the one with the blue door"

Best seat in the house.

I will begin bar mitzvah and wedding pictures next week. 

Instagram and Camera+ were not used in the making of this album... yeah right. 

My Day One Saga...

Nikki and I planned that for the first day as Israelis citizens we would do something so Zionistic, something so extraordinary and something that will most definitely benefit Israel's economy. Get ready for this... We were going to get our iPhones unlocked and finally get them Israeli-fied!!

See how much more Zionistic can you get?! My iPhone was becoming Israeli with me. What a special occasion.

We went to some random hole in the wall on Yafo and with oh too much skepticism and after giving this poor guy the biggest background check he will ever receive as well as insisting I watch him unlock someone else's phone to make sure he really is as careful as he says he is, I left my baby with him for the next 24 hours.

Nikki planned on staying in town a little longer, but having had no sleep the night before due to this lovely thing I call jet lag I desperately needed to get some beauty rest back in our apartment in Katamon.

I promised Nikki I knew exactly how to get back to our humble abode. I knew the precise way. The shortest way there is and I would be back in my couch (yes, I sleep on a pull out couch) in 27 minutes exactly because Lottie's Way is always right. 

My iPod and I were en route home. 10 minutes down. 20 minutes down. 40 minutes down. I had absolutely no idea where I was (which if you ask me in person if I really had no idea where I was I would deny it. One of the perks of reading these moments on this blog.) apart from the fact I passed the same bus stop about three times, I had a drop of water left, and no Google Maps because the one time I really needed it my phone was with some potential phone thief who claims he was "unlocking" it but the more I thought about him the more I was convinced he was handing his niece my phone as a happy Ramadan present. 

Something to know about me- I am never wrong. I don't get lost, I just voluntarily take long, tourist-esque walks. You know, get to know the sights and scenes. And one thing I don't ever do is ask for directions, because why ask for directions if I know exactly where I am going since I don't get lost. 

I have an iTouch, but there was no wifi where I was which was totally ok because I purposely walked in a circle about 3 times over now. I wanted to memorize what those houses looked like.

Suddenly I got wifi and Google Mapped my address, not because I was lost just you know as us Israelis call it "stam". 

I got the directions and began to walk in that direction but then lost wifi. 

In the mean time I had a drop of water left. The question became how am I possibly going to divide this drop of water to last me what could be another 5 minute walk or another 5 hour walk.

I began walking straight, since that always seems like a safe bet. Can't ever go wrong walking straight according to my theory which has no proof or rhyme or reason. 

Right before I passed the President's house, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my life. I thought I was hallucinating. There is a scene in this movie Kangaroo Jack when they are stuck in the desert and suddenly a water fountain appears, but it's all a hallucination. Well well, someone must have been looking out for me. I was stuck in the blistering heat in this desert called Katamon and Abra cadabra there, out of no where appears a water fountain. I always knew I liked Shimon Peres. Not only is he a good president (I don't know the first thing about him) and supplies Israel with stability (for all I know he could be the most instable president Israel has ever had) but he supplies the nomads and wanders, as well as the fresh off the boat from New York olim of his land with a water fountain. Not only that the only working water fountain in a country suffering from permenant water shortage. Golly gee, what a mitzvah man risking Israel's water to give to the thirsty. I owe my life to Shimon Peres and his water fountain. 

As I was filling up my 1.5 liter-er and benching gomel (believe me every time I pass that insanely unhygienic water fountain I just have the sudden urge to begin the Water Fountain Foundation of Israel) I got a notification on my iTouch...not only is there a water fountain, but wifi also!! Oh the simple pleasures in life. I started at my iPod for a solid 2 minutes to remember exactly where I was going and with a full bottle of water I felt reborn again.

I was reaching the third hour of my tiring journey and I told myself today is my day. I can and I will get back to my apartment in 14 minutes. I can do this because Google Maps told me I can and they are on Team Lottie.

All was good until I missed the turn. 

Then for the first time in my life I asked for directions. I may have been back in my apartment 7 minutes later but the humiliation was so not worth it. 

A Message To My Psychologist

The date was July 25
The mode of communication was this social network I like to call "The Facebook"
The feeling at the moment of communication was just a tad stressed. Just a teeny drop
The receiver was Miss. Rena T. Levin (my self appointed free psychologist)

Rena, a kind hearted human being to all walks of life. 

1) my Bar Ilan payment is due today... Called them last week to pay (the number they gave me at 5am my time) went to voicemail, voicemail box was full. Email the person back and she says you can pay with a check but obvs fails to mention is has to be in shekels not dollars which I happened to have found out by chance. Payment due today. Haven't paid. I can't pay in shekels just dollars and no one is answering their phones. I am releasing the pigeon in a matter of minutes. It will travel 8,000 miles with a credit card in tow.

2) don't have an ulpan... I have an irrational fear of speaking Hebrew which doesn't seem to be getting any better and now I have a fear of speaking and unknowingness of the language of the Hebrew man. I am changing the song to "speak the language of the ENGLISHman."

(Side point- I didn't end up going to ulpan. Still have a fear of Hebrew. Yes, I will be starting Bar Ilan in 13 days. No biggie)

3) don't have a Givat Shmuel apt which I am trying to put a brave face on and say "oh it's chill Nikki is crafty, she'll decorate our box. But I don't want to live in a Fed Ex box. That's one way to make friends- "come spend Friday night dinner in my humble box abode"

(Side point- Nikki is one of the friends I made aliyah with and am living with.)
(Side point number 2- An apartment was found and signed and sealed on Friday!)

4) speaking of inviting people over I won't have friends so I'll just have to play Bananagrams alone. One is the loneliest number you know. The "Find Lottie Friends Foundation" (FLFF) is open for business big time. Know of any generous donators?

(Side point- FLFF is still very much open)

5) I have absolutely no idea when I'm meant to be signing up for classes and it's boycott Lottie year so no one answers anything I ask anymore. Phone, email, text, Facebook, letters- the "I couldn't get in touch with you" excuse no longer applies in the 21st century. I think the only solution is to super glue my feet so someone's office floor so they are forced to answer because I ain't going anywhere Ms. I Suck At My Job.

(Side point- I did manage to sign up for my classes. Don't ask me what any of them mean. If only I knew...)

Do you know of any verrrry heavy sleeping pills that just knock you out for a good two months? Legal or not I am so down.

(Side point- still looking for that heavy sleeping pill. I'm thinking of one that will last until Chanukah time)

So long farewell afidesen (kiss kiss) goodbye)
Or shalom as us Israelites call it

It's Go Time (The Very Much So Shortened Short Short Version)

The day finally came- Monday, August 13. The day I was looking forward to as well as dreading. Got to the airport with two of my brothers and my dad. All was pretty standard. The first stop was signing for your teudat zehut. I felt like I was signing my life away... no going back now baby!
Did the usual airport to do, no celebratory champagne yet.
While I was waiting on line to check in with my dad, I did the standard somewhat judgmental look around to see who is making this life changing adventure with me. As someone who very much appreciates a stylish outfit, the question of who looks better me or them was very much on my mind. As I was looking around all I saw were people and their dogs. Lots of dogs. It was like over night the new rule to get on this flight was it's a "Dog and Me" aliyah flight, you can't come dog-less. Very important side point, I hate dogs. When I see a dog I see myself in it's mouth. Clearly this was a conspiracy against me. Suddenly I wasn't nervous about moving straight into the Middle East conflict or leaving my family and starting anew or going to a college that speaks a language I don't understand. No no, the fear was now I am going to get eaten alive by a dog.
When it was my turn to check my bags in, my dad asked if I was sitting next to a dog. I told you this was a very serious concern. I would take it as a very bad sign if my seat was next to Fluffy. Thankfully the answer was no, so the aliyah procedure was no longer put on halt.

This is more of a what happens after my aliyah venting session blog, so to make a long and boring story short, I made it to Israel. Clearly.

Thanks Facebook friends for giving me 123 likes, it's as if you know I have number OCD. Much appreciated!

Standard flight. Very exciting. Wish I could say more then I listened to my iPod, practically bit my nails off and was shaking like a leaf.
Unfortunately or fortunately I was in such a daze. I do remember waiting for an interview when we landed (YES I DID IT FOR ALL OF MY BIGGEST FANS IN AMERICA) but I was knocked over by some army unit of a family. So if you saw a huge family being interviewed and then saw some neb jumping up and down in the back, that would be yours truly.

Why write about it when you can see some highlights in this handy dandy video.
I am the one who can't decide if I like wearing my glasses or not
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rWyW3xXYqA