Back from Bellingham

A-Minus: 3 Weeks

I just returned from my final trip to visit the family up north before aliyah. I could write a thousand words, but I'll just post the pictures below instead:

Dad and Me in the Woods

Jake, our Jack Russel Terrier, enjoying his watermelon.

Me, sitting by the pool, prearing my resume.

Mom tripped over this root, breaking her ankle. Here you see me taking revenge, restoring the family honor.

Out To Lunch

I'm here up north on Vacation. I won't be able to write for a while, but I'll get back to blogging soon.

Saw a few anti-Jewish pro-Lebanese protesters downtown (the town is full of geriatric hippies.) Otherwise, just watching the televised war and relaxing.

Watching A War

Why is it that every time I move to Israel there’s a war?

I mean really, you would think they could keep it together for a month. Last time I moved there was August 2000. I got a good two and a half weeks to adjust before the Intifada started last time. Now Lebanon had to go crazy again?

Anyway, I spent yesterday’s fast working. I didn’t get hungry, but started getting dizzy towards the end of the day. I was constantly calling vendors and leaving messages, but for some reason not getting any response. The I get home and check my machine…

BEEEEP - “… Uh, Ephraim? Yeah, this is Bob from Acme Valve Corp calling you back.”

Turns out I was so punchy at work that I was giving out my home phone number for them to call me back when I left them messages. The funny part is my home message has a Hebrew greeting on it, so these guys were really thrown off.

Spent some time reading Israeli papers, watching videos of burning buildings and homes in the North, wishing I were there to help out in some way. Hang on guys, I’ll be there soon. I swung by some coworkers’ offices and had to explain what’s happening there and why.

Spent the rest of the day reading Lebanese bloggers rapidly posting and updating as Israel systematically knocked off buildings, bridges, and airports as if they were stepping on ants.

As a Jew and future Israeli citizen, I understand the need to immolate the country. If Israel doesn’t, then Israel will get it back ten times worse than it’s giving right now.

As an engineer, I see this as an unmitigated and tragic destruction. Such beautiful infrastructure is being reduced to rubble, and far worse is to come. Just wait until the ground invasion.


As a human being, I feel badly for the middle class Lebanese who were too frightened and weak to take control of their country before something like this happened. Despite the hatred many express for Israel and Jews, most of the bloggers I’m reading understand on some level that this would not be happening had Hizbullah not attacked Israel. Perhaps something good will come of this if they some day see that they have more to lose by passively standing on the sidelines as their country becomes a terrorist playground than they do by disarming Hizbullah. But the only way to demonstrate that fact is by making them lose big time now.

UPDATE 10:02 AM: Israeli Jets Blast Beirut Building Believed Housing Hezbollah Chief

Ooooooh, this is just too good to be true. Nasrallah isn't that stupid, is he?

My Brain is Burning

A-Minus: 1 Month, 3 Days

I'm just sitting here. Reading other people's blogs. Checking the news. I have work to do. Bags to pack. Things to sell. But it all seems such a waste.

Seven Israelis (Jews and Druze soldiers) died, two kidnapped. But I feel it's not right to say anything. I remember living in Israel, hearing the "go getum'" corus from America as my favorite little landmarks and my public transportation was repeatedly blown to smithereens for the glory of Allah the "merciful." But I never appreciated the gung-ho attitude I got from some of my American Jewish friends, praising every Israeli reaction to Arab violence, but when it came to actually contributing something, "What me, move there? But how would I make a living?"

So as long as I'm in America, I keep my mouth sealed shut. No talking about the disengagement, the Gaza kidnappings, the coming war in Lebanon. If you want my opinion, read my posts from 2000-2002. You can probably figure out what I think now.

In the mean time, the duct tape stays over my mouth. But only for another month.

Movement

A-Minus: 1 Month, 4 Days

Operation Trashheap continues apace!

-I have someone coming over tonight to pick up a bunch of junk, someone else who wants one of my computers.

-Delivered three large boxes to the post office to be sent to my folks' up north.

-Packing three suitcases for my upcoming visit home to store at their place.

-And, of course, trying to continue with the rest of my life in the mean time.

There's an extra spring in my step every time I ship a box, sell a tool, or clear up a bit of floor space.

My exit comes not a moment too soon, as neighborhood I live in has been going downhill. Not that it was ever very high on the hill to begin with, but it's somewhere in the sewer now.

As rents have gone down and places remain vacant, management started renting to "Monument People," i.e., the crowd that hangs out on Monument Blvd. in downtown Concord. I.e. illegal - no, make that "undocumented" immigrants. And that includes the maintenance supervisor.

They have been congregating in the front courtyard of my neighbor nightly, engaging in rowdy gambling sessions that last till midnight or 1 AM. I would tell them to be quiet, but I don't speak Spanish. And I don't want to get shot.

A family moved upstairs from me, and I started finding crushed beer cans and burnt cigarette butts in my back yard. Not smart, considering my back yard consists of 2 foot high grass. I went up and tried to discuss the issue with them, but, you know, "No hablo Ingles." I immediately told the management and then took out a renter's insurance policy in case the complex burns down. Then, they started throwing feces into my back yard. Yes, you read that right.

After that, my next door neighbors tore out the bottom board of the fence connecting my back yard to their back yard. Then they got a dog, which is not allowed per the renter's contract, and trained the dog to crawl under the hole they made in the fence and "make" in my back yard.

That's not to mention the three automobile breakins, leaky sinks, ajar doors, flee infestations, broken heater, and peeling paint. No, I will definately not be missing this place.

My Two Worlds

A-Minus: 1 Month, 5 Days

It's difficult pretending not to care. Partners and project managers zip by my office with faxes. New engineers pop their heads in with questions. Office Services delivers boxes, Information Services installs patches on my computer, my supervisor reviews my timecard, and all the while nobody here has even heard of Gilad Shalit.

I'm checking headlines every few hours, hoping we'll get him back. I go to shul.
"Heard we got twenty bad guys last night," Pinchas tells me.
"Yeah, and they hit one of the bomb factories," I add.
We're both middle east news junkies.

But then we both go back to America, where nobody cares. And I'm getting tired of the double-life.

Camp BBQ

The barbecues continue! Been making the most out of July. This is my third barbecue in the last month. This time, it was for the Camp Gan Israel kids, and a bunch of us Chabad regulars heard that there would be burgers so we just happened to show up.

Flame broiled.

Art Zeidman, can't help being gabbai.

I decided to go low-carb.

The kinderlach at camp.

Their adoring parents.

Cousin Joe on his recumbant bicycle.


Pinchas (Paul) with Planet Israel (Ephraim)

Summary of Progress

Making progress, moving forward.

1. Finally got my 2nd computer up and running last night. It's almost ready for me to sell. Meanwhile, people keep buying my junk from what they see on Craigslist and my Website.
2. Took down my old word processor (it's basically a glorified typewriter with a monitor and memory.) Pulled up some old files that were in its memory from my high school years. My writing has certainly improved. I'll need to print those out so I can save them before I erase the thing.
3. Going through all my old records (car, medical, tax, etc.) trying to figure out what to get rid of and what to scan. Can't get rid of that old shredder just yet.
4. Got my 3rd computer up and running and ready to sell.
5. Set up boxes for shipment. Some boxes go to my folks' house up north, some directly to Israel.
6. Loaded up the car with stuff to bring by goodwill. I thought about salvation army, but I don't know if there's a problem giving to an organization which encourages proselytizing. Not that I have a problem with them, it's just a halachic (Jewish law) question I'm too lazy to ask.


And that's not to mention my having to do the usual stuff. You know, do the laundry, make dinner, clean the house, and all the other things necessary to maintain the facade of being a fully functional member of society.

Visa Issue Settled

I finally got my passport back from the Israeli consulate today, for the second time. Now, they have at last spelled my name correctly. I am Ephraim Aryeh again.  And so at last, all is right with the world. Or at least my paperwork.

In the mean time, I'm still waiting to actually receive my grant from Nefesh B'Nefesh. Emailed them and they said I might not get it until I'm actually on the other side of the pond. Ah, well, I've got plenty of other things to take care of for now.

Happy Independence Day!

I will be spending my independence day off... working! Actually, I woke up at 5:30 AM, instead of my usual 6:30 AM, so I just got up, did the morning thing, davenned, and came straight to work at 7AM. I'm trying to make up 8 hours that I lost during my Southern California Adventure, so I decided to work 8 hours extra this week. Worked 1-1/2 hours extra yesterday, so if I work 6-1/2 hours today, that makes 8 hours. So I can be out of here at 1:30 and still have the rest of the day free.

Anyway, the Craigslist ads and website sales are doing quite well. Sold my media cabinet last night. That's the last of the major furniture except the bed and dresser, but I'm keeping those until the last couple of weeks while I'm using them.

I've had some debate with myself as to how to move my oil paintings. I've got four of them, about three feet by four feet. That's HUGE, and I can't trust the post office to handle them. They also happen to be worth thousands of dollars (one of of the perks of having an artist for a grandmother.) I finally decided to just take them off the canvas, roll them up, and stick them in a mailing tube. Yeah, it's not the best solution, but any other method is going to cost an arm and a leg, and I need my arms and legs for other things. So I've spent my last two nights picking the staples out of the canvas, ever so careful not to damage the canvas itself. I'm still a bit nervous about damaging the paint by rolling up the canvas, but I've talked to a professional (my friend Miriam in Toronto) and she says that there is no problem rolling them. So it's on her head if they are damaged. And that's enough to keep me busy from 1:30 today till bed time.

Discouragement

A-Minus: 1 Month, 1 Week, 5 Days

By far the most frustrating issue surrounding my upcoming aliyah is neither the endless reams of paperwork nor the bottomless pit of boxes to pack. It’s the constant discouragement I’ve received from friends and relatives, the very people I trust and respect. I first encountered the characteristic distaste many Israelis have for their country during my year and a half living there, many of whom made it crystal clear that they would like nothing better than to get out of the country as soon as possible. I slowly came to understand that this self-abasement was partially a consequence of the hardships of life in Israel coupled with post-Zionism’s value-free emptiness. But the attitude is also a disingenuous pessimism imported from the slums of eastern Europe hardened with a soldier’s toughness. Most Israelis moan endlessly about the good life they could be living in America, but they stay.

"You’re crazy for living here. What's wrong with you?" they would ask me.
"Well, you live here too."
"Yeah, but I don’t have a choice. I was born here."
"You’re forty seven. How many chances do you need to get out?"
"What?," they would ask in mock offence, "Are you calling me crazy?"

Of course, Israelis are still Israelis even in America, so I began hearing the same sort of talk from expatriates the minute I landed in Walnut Creek. "You’ll find a girl, settle down, and forget about Israel," or, "When you were there before, it was just a honeymoon, you won’t last a year after you move back." Over the last few years, one by one, they’ve learned to live with my "insanity."

But I couldn’t imagine that the fulfillment of the commandment to live in the land of Israel could generate such resistance from my own religious leaders here in America. When mentioning my aliyah intentions to my rabbis here, I’ve often received the same repetitive Yiddish refrain, "Mann tracht und gott lacht!" A man plans, and God laughs. In other words, don’t get your hopes up, you’ll probably fail. Imagine if a local Jew came to them announcing his intention to keep kosher, only to be brushed off with the same brusque terseness, "Ha ha, yeah right, I’ll believe it when I see it."

And they’re not the only ones. Now it’s my relatives in Israel too. "Why are you coming here? The government is just going to kick you out of your house like they did in Gush Katif," one cousin warns me, bringing up the bitter memory of the destruction of the Jewish community of Gaza last year. "You know," a friend tells me, "the mitzvah of living in the land of Israel is not obligatory. I mean, it’s good to do, but you’ve got a whole life here in America. You shouldn’t give that all up for some fantasy of a future."

Over time, I’ve come to forgive their resistance as a sort of defense mechanism, not for me but for themselves. There’s a fear behind their words that I’ll come back as a jaded realist. That if they were somehow involved in sowing great expectations in my mind, then it will cost them our friendship when reality causes those dreams to whither and die. But they can rest at ease, because there may be some truth in the Yiddish that Man plans and God laughs, but it’s important to remember the Aramaic expression that God helps every man on his way. That whatever goal a person strives for in life, God provides opportunities to accomplish it. And as I tape up the last box of books for shipping, I know God is on my side. So who’s laughing now, eh?

2nd of July BBQ

Went to a barbecue with my old college friend Mike Karatov, who happens to live about ten minutes from me. The 4th of July falls on a Tuesday this year, so we had to improvise on the date.

My stomach seems to have expanded drastically after six hamburgers.

Sarah and Mike

Summer is Here

A-Minus: 1 Month, 2 Weeks, 1 Day. Approximately.

For the last few days I've been on my heat wave diet. That's where I put off cooking and eating because it's so hot out that if I were to try to prepare dinner indoors, I might end up cooking myself instead of my dinner. So I wait for the planet to cool down slightly, and by the time it's cool enough to eat, all I have the energy to make are some steamed vegetables.

Temperatures were in the mid 100's this week. That's Farenheit, of course. The up side is that I should be loosing weight due to the incredible temperatures. But the down side is that any caloric savings I experience is neutralized by the fact that it's too hot to run, so I burn less calories as well. This is all some sort of subversive Neo-Con Zionist plot to cause global warming.

Meanwhile I've been going through all of my old clothes to sort through what will end up where. I keep finding perfectly good suitcases next to the dumpster, so many that I have extras now. I have an upcoming trip to visit the folks up north, and I'm thinking I'll load up one suitcase with clothes for my trip and then just leave it there, so I'll never need to pack another suitcase for my visits there, I'll just have clothes waiting.

Other clothes will go to Israel, but I want to take mosly new stuff with me when I go so I won't have to worry about clothes shopping for a while. Israel doesn't usually carry my size anyway. And the rest; my estranged grandfather's pimpin' silk shirts, snazzy jackets that were slick and trendy fifteen years ago, and shirts big enough to house me back in the days when I was 60 lbs fatter? Goodwill, here I come.

Also, sent off my first M-bag today. I managed to stuff 65 lbs of books into one of those little canvas sacks! It was so heavy that the postal employees couldn't lift it. They made me come behind the front counter and put it in the right pile. It should take 4-6 weeks to get there on the slow boat 'round the horn, and I'll be there in about 7 weeks, so I should have some good reading material waiting for me when I arrive.

More Visa Garbage

I consulted with the Israeli consulate this morning, and they consoled me on my connundrum concerning my misspelled name, and the consequent complications I'm having in consumating my aliyah.

How'se that for an opening sentence?

In plainer talk, since they misspelled my middle name as "Louise" instead of "Louis," I have to send my visa back through the process again and get a brand new one.

Notary to self: Get Apostille

A-Minus: 1 Month 2 Weeks 5 Days

Ever heard of an Apostille? Neither had I until a few weeks ago. Sounds like some sort of amphibious French cuisine. But no, it's actually something like a notary. Most civilized countries and Israel signed a treaty to recognize each other's Apostille stamps on official documents. These stamps are needed on birth certificates of immigrants in Israel who want to marry. I do, in fact, plan on getting married some day, and have a few minor details, like getting my Apostille and finding a girl, to work out.
Figure if a notary public can give a notary, he can give an Apostille too, right? Wrong. But he sent me on the right path, telling me that only the California Secretary of State can actually issue the Apostille, so I have to send my birth certificate to Sacramento. But then I learned that I need to have certified copy of my birth certificate which is less than five years old, which I don't have.
Hunting online, I finally found the form, which requires... a notary. So I went back to the notary, who notarized the form, to get the copy of my birth certificate, to get the Apostille. And all over my lunch hours.

Almost Famous

I received an email from Nefesh B'Nefesh. Turns out they have some publicity coming their way, and they wanted to know if they can use me as a subject for an interview. Of course! I told them.

But then I started thinking about it. I haven't even given notice to my employer about my plans, and it might mess up my schedule (and look vey low class) if they were to find out about my plans via the media. Also, I have some, eh, other plans, which you, my dear readers, will find out about in good time, and being publicized would throw a wrench in those gears as well. So I quickly wrote them back and told them to hold off for a month.

I've been spending my Sunday sitting here working, trying to make up the hours I missed when I went on my So-Cal vacation. At the same time, I'm getting all my computers up and running to sell. The place is getting emptier and emptier. Someone just came by and bought my fish tank ($95.) In a few hours, someone is coming for my computer desk, and someone else wants my box of screws.

Fellow Walnut Creeker and Oleh Chadash Adam Neril came into town for a visit for shabbes. We had an interesting discussion on living expenses, and it looks like the cost of living is a bit lower than I thought it would be. I should have sufficient savings to last about a year, G-d willing, once I get there.

As I ramble on, it's important to note that a soldier has been kidnapped by Hamas in Israel, two others killed. We should all daven hard that our kidnapped brother be returned to his family safely.

Sellin' and Packin' Goes On and On

A Minus: 1 Month, 3 Weeks, 2 Days

I sold my antique mirror a couple of nights ago.

Last night, someone came over for my futon. When she showed up in her Chrysler sedan, I knew we were in for some work. I had to disassemble the whole futon, stuff the components into my hatchback, drive it over to her place, haul it all upstairs, and reassemble it. Grand total, it took me about an hour and a half. Fortunately, she paid me an extra $50 for the trouble.

Meanwhile, I'm packing up all my books into M-Bags. M-bags are these huge canvas sacks you get at the post office for shipping books and printed material. So far I've got about 150 lbs of books. Would you believe it's cheaper to ship M-bags to Israel than Canada?

Speaking of Canada, I bought my tickets for my flight to Toronto. I'll come into town on Sunday, August 13th, hang out there for a couple of days, then proceed to catch my Nefesh B'Nefesh flight on August 15th.

And the drum beats on...

My So-Cal Adventure

A-Minus: 1 Month, 3 Weeks, 4 Days

Work has been quite stressful lately. Industry is experiencing a dire shortage of electrical engineers lately, so our company hired a subcontractor to help us with a job we're working on. The problem is, they are all Chinese and speak English at about a second grade level, so it's been very difficult coordinating mechanical and electrical issues, and I keep getting busted for design mistakes. Very frustrating. And they (my company) also seem to have great expectations that I am able to do tasks in which I have no experience, so it's doubly frustrating.

Add to that the burden of selling all my junk over the next month, and the stress has been piling up.

So I decided to get out of Dodge for a while. I took Friday and Monday off and drove down to S. Barbara (where I went to school) to see my old friends at Chabad of S. Barbara, and had a great time.

See the pictures below:

(Future Rabbi) Chaim Loschak. He looks pretty young, right? Looks can be deceiving. The 11-year-old fought me to a draw in chess.

Rabbi Loschak and his son Avi at Havdallah. Yes, they make Havdallah on Bud Light.

Havdallah. Notice the big black carbon smudge on the ceiling from decades of Havdallahs in the same spot.

Me with Lloyd, the S. Barbara resident charchiturist, chess master, and 60's drug experience storyteller.

Lloyd draws his Charchiture of me.

A close-up on the charchiture.

Making my grand entrance at Ventura to visit Christopher and Alicia. Yes, I'm still driving the rust rocket after a theft, a failed break-in, and innumerable bangs, scrapes, and collisions. You can see the sunroof where thieves tried to pry their way in with a crowbar. I had sealed the cracks with duct tape. Notice the streamers of duct tape peeling off the sunroof and trailing over the rear window.

My ex-roommate Christopher and his wife Alicia. And I remember when they had just met. Notice Christopher's Christ-like hairdo. Last year the look was ZZ-top.

The Stubbans took me to the Baron Herzog kosher winery in Oxnard. They even had a kosher restaurant, but it was too expensive to even think about.

Wine tasting at the Baron Herzog winery.

My So-Cal Adventure

Welding one of Christopher's projects. In the background you can see the cart that he's transforming into a rolling pizza oven.


At the beach in Ventura. The force of the waves was very effective at shoving seawater up my ears. Christopher didn't seem to share my problem.

A bizzare-looking rock formation at Morro Bay.

Seagulls Roosting in Morro Rock.

Morro Rock and Morro Bay.

On the jetty at Morro Bay.

I came to Hearst castle while driving up highway 1. This photo is taken from the bottom. I looked around the museum, but didn't want to take a tour, as it would have taken 2 hours and cost $25. Besides, it's the sort of thing that is better to do if you're with someone else.

The Bixby Bridge (or as I used to call it as a child, the Bigot Bridge) near Big Sur.

Pulling Up Anchor

A Minus: 2 Months, 6 Days

Leaving Walnut Creek is a far more difficult experience than I thought it would be. I've seen countless Israelis who leave Israel for America for a couple of years to make a little bit of extra money. It's a perfectly reasonable thing to do considering the unaffordable housing costs and tiny salaries in Israel. "Od shanah achat. Just one more year," they always tell themselves. Which turns into two years. And before they know it, they've been here 30 years, and have become so acculturated and hooked on the prosperity of America that they wouldn't be able to go back even if they wanted to.

I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen, that I would do my best not to grow addicted to the ease of life here. It wasn't such a challenge, and I have no issues about leaving the prosperity I found in Walnut Creek. Well, that's not true, I'll definitely feel the loss, but the burden is not insurmountable. My student loans are almost paid off, but I can still hear the little voice in my head, "Ephraim, now that you're out of debt, you have an excellent credit rating. Why not buy a house? Just as an investment for a year. Think how much better off you'll be when you finally do go. Od shanah achat." But the voice doesn't sway me.

For the last few years, I've been quietly planning my aliyah. I figured that when my moment finally came, I would be ecstatic. But, while I am happy, my emotions are mixed. What I didn't expect was to become so close to a community. I sit at the Shabbes table, look around at my friends, and wonder which ones I won't see again after two months. What will happen to my little kinderlach at the Hebrew School? Who will buy the sodas for the shul? Lift the heavy boxes of siddurim? Wolf down the leftover cheesecake from Shavuos?
But when I think of staying, my mind retches at the prospect. How am I going to meet someone and start a family way out here? What future do I really have here, besides work, work, and more work? No, I have to go.

And Gabi is going. He was never an "Od shanah achat" Israeli. Having left Israel 25 years ago, he made no promises of impending return. But then he decided to move to Florida. Mishane makom mishane mazal. A change of place brings a change of fortune. Well, as long as he was moving, why not bring his stuff to Florida, set up there, and go visit Israel for a few months. Pretty soon, Florida was just somewhere to store stuff, and he's now moving back full-time to Tel Aviv. We celebrated his aliyah with a barbecue last night (see attached pictures.)
And my own aliyah approaches rapidly.



My aliyah visa finally arrived from the Israeli consulate yesterday. This will allow me to land and immediately declare citizenship. It's actually an amusing piece of work. For those who read Hebrew, notice they spell San Francisco as San Frantzisco. Thought that was cute. Less cute was the fact that they misspelled my middle name.

Selling stuff has been going well now that I've found a successful strategy. I simply post everything I have for sale, all 150 items, on Craigslist on Friday afternoon, telling them to come by on Sunday morning at 10AM. Motzei Shabbat (Saturday night), I check email and answer any questions people have. Usually I have about 40 messages waiting for me, all of them signed by people promising to be there at 10 AM sharp, pleading with me to please hold their favorite item as they just can't live without it. Of these 40 people, probably five will actually show up. Of the five, maybe three buy things. I typically bring work home with me so I can have something to do (and build up extra hours) while I'm sitting around waiting. Then, I repost everything Monday morning, and Wednesday morning, to keep the ads current. Little by little, I've sold quite a bit over the last three weeks. It's to the point where I'm starting to move things into boxes. My apartment feels lonely without my stuff in it, but I think that really it's just exposing an emptiness that was already there.