One Week in Israel

One week in, and we are starting to feel more at home. We moved to our flat in Modiin on Thursday, and I for one was relieved that it was as nice as it looked in the pictures. After a good clean we were able to start unpacking and apart from the obvious lack of furniture, I could sit back and relax as I reflected on the huge journey we had embarked upon. Having talked about it since going on my gap year 8 years ago, it feels great to finally be here.

The neighbours knocked on from across the hall to introduce themselves and asked if there was anything they could do. Zak immediately asked if we could borrow their wifi code until we got our own set up. I was very impressed with his Israeli levels of Chutzpah; he would never have done that in Hendon! They were only too happy to help.

We had been invited out for Friday night dinner and Shabbat lunch by people we knew from London and Manchester which made our first Shabbat a truly relaxing experience. It is reassuring to be in a place with people that you know, which is one of the reasons we chose Modiin. In Kaiser (the name of our neighbourhood) there is park known as the ‘Shabbat Park’ where people congregate at 5pm when the sun starts to release it’s grip, so we headed round their at the allotted time. To our dismay, as we walked through the park we couldn’t see anyone we knew. Perhaps we had the wrong park, perhaps the wrong time, and then on a bench in front of me an old friend from home who didn’t even know we had arrived! Having spent a good hour or two in the park meeting old friends and being introduced to new ones, we wandered home to put the baby to bed.

It is refreshing being in a community of Olim. Everyone says, but aren’t you worried you won’t integrate? The thing it, everyone here knows what you are going through, because they have been through it themselves, and that is so reassuring.

Today is The Day

Today is the day. We have packed our 8 suitcases, the hand luggage is bulging with food and toys for the baby and we are ready to go. My parents drive with us to the airport to say goodbye and whilst I was expecting to feel sad, I feel slightly numb, as if this is happening to someone else whilst I stand by and watch. Saying goodbye is hard, but it doesn’t seem as final as I had anticipated, as my parents have already booked to come out for Chanukah.  And I know that we will see them on face time every day!

The plane journey is comfortable, we are lucky enough to get the leg room seats and thankfully the baby sleeps the whole way. When we arrive we are greeted by a friendly middle aged man with a sign with our name spelt wrongly. This is something we should get used to as Jeffay does not translate particularly well from English to Hebrew! We and one other family (who of course we happened to know!) were escorted to get our visas, which due to the recently ended strike we had still not received. It’s all going very smoothly, until our escort informs us that we have to wait for an incoming flight of 50 French olim before we can go to the old terminal to get our teudot oleh and teudot zehut. Take a deep breath, and prepare to be delayed. ‘Welcome to Israel’, where nothing is quite as straight forward as it might be. Five and a half hours later, papers in hand, and we finally get into our taxi to stay with my brother and his family in Jerusalem for two days. They made Aliyah last summer so they are an invaluable source of information and support during this tumultuous time. When we arrive we are greeted by balloons and welcome signs made by my six nieces and nephews who have been waiting all year for us to join them, never satisfied with the countdown even when I spoke to them last week and said we were coming in just a week. ‘It’s not soon enough!’ my 8 year old niece complains. Now we are here, and we have a few hours to rest before the kids get home from summer camp.

Those first two days are a blur, as we tried to adjust to the heat and enjoyed spending time with the family. Last time they saw Ashira she was 3 months old, so now at 11 months she is much more fun. My 4 year old niece is so excited when she realises that Ashira will copy her if she claps or blows kisses!

Now we are here, we have to visit a whole host of places before we can settled into daily life, from organising our health insurance, opening a bank account, buying a fridge/freezer and oven and considering our options with regards to a car. But for today, we will just relax and enjoy being looked after. Chocolate chip pancakes? Don’t mind if I do!

Buy or get rid of?

How much stuff do you have? The question which olim ask, not from an existential or even a charitable point of view. The simple equation, is how much stuff can I fit in to the smallest space? Will it cost me more to buy this pen again in Israel or should it spend six to eight weeks in a shipping container and meet us again on the other side.

That was today, as we moved from our flat into our parents (or in-laws or grandparents depending who is really writing!) for three weeks before we actually fly.

We realised that possessions fall into two main categories

Those things you want, need and use regularly to be known as ‘shipping’. E.g. photo albums, microwave & bed.

Those things you don’t want, you don’t need and never use to be known as ‘rubbish’. Rail Ticket Discount Card from 1997, seven boxes of icing sugar & anything on VHS.

Then there are all the things in between.

The challenge of aliyah is not the two main categories, but moving things from the middle into either shipping or rubbish. It makes you very sensitive to what you actually need, asking yourself ‘if this were to go down at sea would I bother replacing it?’

As the packers moved out an eerie quiet descended on the flat as it became pretty real that we were actually leaving. Six suitcases and a lot of stuff in carrier bags later we arrived in South Woodford which is to be our temporary home for the next few weeks.

The Aliyah Files

Welcome to our blog cataloguing the adventure that is Zak, Miri and Ashira’s aliyah. We will each do some of the writing (10 month old Ashira’s contributions will be slightly shorter!) and hopefully it may entertain and inform as we go.

Nine months after telling work that we were leaving, the aliyah process is well underway. As we stumble, trip and stagger through the process of leaving, arriving and eventually settling we’ll keep track of our progress right here.

You might have heard that there’s some striking going on at the Foreign Ministry meaning that there are no visas to be had. It’s nail-biting stuff but eventually we have our flights booked and we will be on our way visa-less British passports in hand.

As we sat worrying about when our shipment might go, when we could book flights, when to go and buy all the things we need from John Lewis we couldn’t help but feel a little bit self involved.

As good Brits the obvious thing seemed to be to write a stern but polite letter of complaint to somebody. As the draft took shape in my mind it struck me that my letter would have to be addressed to the most senior person I could think of. Having been dealing with the Jewish Agency for Israel throughout the process, the chariman was the obvious address.

A series of complaints found their way onto the page, and eventually the recipient’s name needed inserting at the top. Discovering that Natan Sharansky was to receive my moan put things into a sudden and very sharp perspective and the letter promptly found its way to the bin.

In a generation when we’re worrying about which kettle to bring to Israel it is somewhat refreshing to be slightly inconvenienced.

 I’m sure that the good natured idealism will be short lived but let’s hope that it sees us on to the ground in Tel Aviv.

In any event it seems that whilst the consulate might have put down their pens (or rubber stamps) ElAl are still taking bookings and a few forms later we are one step closer to making it happen.

Onwards and upwards!