It’s not easy to spell Manischewitz. Thank God for Google.
The other day I told a friend that it takes me a few hours to pack. I must retract. It takes me hours to pack and procrastinate.
But finally I am as done as I can be at this stage of the game. And as a reward for that, washing my gazillion dishes and my toilet bowl, I am drinking the rest of my bottle of sweet, Kiddush Manischewitz wine. Yum.
Yet another friend (God, I’m freakin’ popular! : ) in chat one day expressed her opinion that this was a terrible alcoholic beverage to drink while sitting alone in your apartment. She imagined it as an extremely depressing thing to do.
So, who wants to come over?
Joking. JOKING! I am happily drinking it, out of a Corelle mug because:
1. I love the stuff.
2. I think it’ll go bad if I leave it open in my fridge for yet another three weeks.
3. I love the stuff.
4. It goes straight to the head.
Tomorrow I embark on what is feeling like a humongous journey. Not only because, check a globe, I’m travelling practically around the world. It is also a very big emotional journey.
My little sister pulls my heart strings possibly more than anyone. I imagine her running over to me when I walk into the meeting area at Ben Gurion.
Israel is also pulling my heart strings. Our beloved country. When I took out a little Ziplock bag with my te’udat zehut (Israeli identity card), my shekels and my Israeli phone recharger, I almost felt like I was in love with them. I saw the latest Israeli coin, the 2 shekels, sitting on top of the other change and I thought, “How lovely.”
OK, if I continue this way, maybe I should have called this post “Blubbering the 2nd”.
My trip to Israel is very different than people who are going on a trip there. For me, it is very much my home. Not like in an ideological way, but in a real, I-lived-there-16-years-and-most-of-my-immediate-family -is-still-there way.
My medicine (aka Manischewitz) is taking affect. I hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight, even if it is only for five hours (if I actually go to sleep soon).
Maybe what gets me is that now I truly feel torn between two places. My dear Vancouverite friends, I have grown very fond of you. My dear Vancouver (or GTA) Jewish community, I like the comfort I have found within you. My dear Kollel, I cannot get over how much you’ve given to me.
Amazing how travelling brings up so much emotion and introspection.