Category Archives: Times of Israel

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I think I love thee, O Jerusalem – my love letter to Jerusalem

This piece was first published on Times of Israel.

Jerusalem, you are a tough place to live. It’s one thing to deal with your crowds, the multitude of cultures, the personal safety issues, and the religious turbulence as a tourist. It’s a whole other thing to live inside you, and to be engulfed with these things single day.

And so, I have always felt a commitment to you but I never really loved you.

Now, three years since my return to you, I’d like to tell you that it wasn’t you. It was me.

You’re wild. No one can deny this. You are an in-your-face, livin’-on-the-edge, eastern city. For some, wild is a natural choice. But not for me; it’s just not who I was.

My choice to leave you for Vancouver in 2006 is proof of this.

After being a Jerusalemite for 16, I realized that I was totally sick of you. I found you rude, loud and unattractive. I also found that my relationship with you made me extremely claustrophobic. When I noticed how I really felt about you, I knew it was time for me to leave you.

That’s when Vancouver came into the picture. I needed to choose a new place to live. Although I have a lot of family in New York, the big and rowdy city never felt like an option. It may be in the west – already an improvement over you – but it was still too energetic for my taste.

In the end I chose the peaceful and off-the-map city of Vancouver. It’s a beautiful place where nothing much happens.

And I loved it.

I’m so sorry, Jerusalem; Vancouver was the first city I ever loved. Because falling in love with Vancouver was easy. I arrived, saw the ocean, the mountains, the cute homes… I had a few people smile at me on the street, and very quickly I was starry-eyed in love.

It was just a perfect fit for me at the time. The chilled ambiance was exactly what I needed. Not to mention the laid-back Jewish community.

It was a perfect relationship, what can I say.

But no, O Jerusalem, I never forgot thee.

Not because I particularly loved you. But I always hoped I’d end up back here since this is where my family is and something in me felt like I was missing out as long as I wasn’t here.

And so, after two and a half years in Vancouver, I started the six month process of convincing myself to give you another chance. It was actually more terrifying coming back to you than it was leaving you because it felt like a crazy decision, going back to a relationship that didn’t work out well the first time.

I kept thinking about how unhappy I was in my former life in Jerusalem. Who said this time it would be any different? But I just needed to try. I needed to see what it would be like living in you after all the growing up I’d done since I left (and maybe you changed a little too?).

And so it was. After dealing with a ton of fear, I ordered my one-way ticket to Israel.

I gave Vancouver many kisses goodbye. I made sure to see some last places I had missed (like Victoria and Gastown). I told it I still loved it but I had to go away. I cried. My love for the place and the people was palpable.

And then I left… Knowing I may never see it again.

On the last day of the month of Elul 2009, I boarded a plane back to Israel. My El Al flight was packed full with Israelis who had made yerida and were coming to Israel for the holidays. I sat next to one such man who was excited for me, and slightly jealous, that I was making the leap and giving you another chance.

I arrived in Jerusalem on erev Rosh Hashana. What a perfect day on which to begin a renewed relationship with you. Jerusalem, you were buzzing with holiday preparations. My parents’ home was vibrant and I was surrounded by lots of family members. Despite my jet lag, I helped my mom prepare for the chag, so excited to finally spend it with my family again.

A new year was beginning and I was beginning it with you.

It was such an emotional moment for me. Actually, as I write this to you, I am still extremely emotional about it. I felt like a new life full of opportunity lay before me.

Jerusalem, I did not fall in love with you overnight the way I did with Vancouver. You are a place that someone like me – whose natural choice is not heat, noise and prickles – needs to grow to love.

And now, exactly three years since my return, I see that I am growing to love you. I now struggle through your hot summer days but am absolutely and totally in love with your cool evenings. I am anywhere from uncomfortable to fearful of your Arab inhabitants but I love the feeling of living in a multi-cultural Wild East and I am happy that I am not living in a bubble. I work hard to pay for a small apartment but can’t get over my fortune of living in a cute home in such a pretty and funky neighbourhood. I am proud of my sweet life that is split between work with the most amazing people and after-work with, well, the most amazing people.

I love where east meets west deep inside of you. I stand on Derech Hevron on the Cinematheque bridge and look out to the Old City, the new city and the hills of the Judean Desert… Or I ride the Light Rail on Kvish Echad (actually named 60 Road or Cheyl HaHandasa St.) with all kinds of passengers, and I know that when one chooses a relationship with you, one truly lives on the edge.

It is because of who you are that you are the place where things happen. This is the city with such a long history that one archeologist said that anything found in a dig that is less than 2,000 years old is chucked aside. You are such a wild place that although you are the political centre of Israel, the world just can’t come to terms with who you are, even though it is under Jewish rule that you will always remain a pluralistic, open city for people of all religions.

O Jerusalem, I will always think of Vancouver as a beautiful little corner of the world but you are the real deal for a Jewess like me and you accepted me back with open arms. You are wild, prickly, stony and beautiful. You are welcoming in a way that not everyone can see. But I see it now and I love you for it. I truly do.

I saved a man’s life, and then I cooked soup

First published at Times of Israel, March 19, 2012.

See, that’s the crazy thing about life’s experiences. You save someone’s life. You protect your nation in a war. You discover America. And then you poop.

No matter what, you always continue to be human: Still doing the mundane, human things that the rest of us do.

Except Pharaoh of course. He never pooped.

I’m serious, by the way. Last night, on my way home from work, I saved the life of a man. AKA, I saved an entire world (read the Mishna and you’ll see I’m not kidding).

Since you’re dying to hear the tale, let me tell it:

I was standing at a Jerusalem intersection. A guy was standing next to me. He was on his phone and looked impatient to cross. And so I watched. Because I’m always waiting for that moment of catastrophe. I mean self-glory. I mean…

Forget it. It sounds bad either way.

Anyway, he started crossing before the light was green and I saw one last car pushing through the yellow/red light on the other end.

And as I saw the car heading toward this dude on his pelephone who has probably survived wars in the IDF, I yelled, “Tizaher!”

Of course he immediately turned to me and said, “Li’eize ulpan at halacht? Ze Hi’zaher! Yesh lach pashut mazal she’ani bichlal adayin bachayim im ha’ivrit hanora’it shelach.

Loosely translated as: “My God. What is with your Hebrew? Did you not know that ‘Tizaher‘ means ‘You will watch out’? You ain’t no prophet – as you can see, I didn’t watch out – and you ain’t no linguist either.”

Anyway, I’m lying. Twice. What he really said, with a smirk on his face, was: “Didn’t that dude cross on red?” and I said: “It wasn’t red yet.” And then I said: “But either way I really don’t feel like seeing someone die tonight.”

And that is just the point.

We live in a culture that lacks excitement and intrigue so much that we can take one semi-saving-of-a-man’s-life experience and change it into an all-time blog hit. (Just watch.)

Which is why you should all move to Israel. If you haven’t yet, of course.

You should make aliya and join the IDF where you will have authentically exciting and life-threatening experiences. And then, when please God you come out in one piece, you probably won’t feel compelled to blow the half experience of saving a dude’s life out of proportion.

Aliya’s new motto: “Aliya – the antithesis of Facebook. Today.”

Either that or you can just try crossing the street in Israel. Either will do.