lovely discoveries

It's been a bit of a downer Christmas this year given that Daniel got really sick/chose this week to go through coffee detox aka caffeine withdrawal. So my original plan to try a Chinese restaurant (of mixed reviews) in the German Colony and walk around afterwards checking out the Christmas lights around there on Christmas Eve/night was no longer possible. However, we still got to continue the Jewish-American tradition of celebrating Christmas i.e. eat at an Asian dining establishment. In this case, a sushi bar called Japanika that I had been curious about whenever we pass by it while strolling after dinner around Merkaz HaCarmel.

And! Because of Declan's severe motion sickness on local buses here due to the curvy, windy terrain of Haifa, we mostly constrain our travel plans with him to the Carmelit. Needing to return some overdue English children's books we'd checked out in Hadar, we stumbled our way around the area after getting off at the Solel Boneh station--and came upon the long-heard-about Oriental market, East/West, as well as the staircase entrance to the part of Wadi Nisnas in which the Holiday of Holidays Festival is held during the weekends of this month--an event I'd failed in my mission to locate the last time we traipsed down there. Most importantly, we also found that the Haifa Children's Library is in fact possible to walk to from the Carmelit. In fact, a closer station would have been the Hanevi'im stop. And! As we were walking towards the library, after checking out East/West, we also came upon the spice store and butcher shop opposite it that I've heard other expats recommend in FB groups.

I'm quite happy with these discoveries, as they'd been on my list of "getting to really know Haifa" for a while now. East/West was a bit anticlimactic... Sure, it's nice to know where I could get shrimp and other non-kosher seafood, but I don't think I'll shop there due to sanitary reasons apart from the staples of Asian seasoning (soy sauce, mirin, etc). I'm ecstatic to know that the Carmelit is a reasonable mode of transportation to get to the library. This is huge for Declan's benefit.

The librarians are so nice at the library... I'll detail this later as it has to do with one aspect of Arab culture that I truly appreciate. And now I need to finish making lunch for the family so we won't be late in catching the train afterwards to pick up Daniel's mom from Ben Gurion Airport.

an unexpected day trip

After literally two straight days of heavy rain interspersed with hailstorms, thunder, and lightning, I was about to resign myself to another day of being stuck at home as much as possible to avoid conditions outside when the weather cleared (enough) by 10:30am today. So Daniel, Declan, and I ended up doing the usual Friday grocery run before the stores shut down for the weekend, and we finally visited Wadi Nisnas, the Arab/Christian neighborhood in Haifa close to downtown. There are a number of buses that go there, but we chose to ride on the Carmelit because of Declan's motion sickness issue, despite its lack of free transfer within 1.5 hour upon the first boarding that the Egged buses would have provided. The Carmelit is just a straight up-down travel route, and thankfully it worked out. Declan even munched on some Cheerios as the subway shuttled downhill.

Wandering around Wadi Nisnas (aka "mongoose valley" as translated from its Arabic name), it made me wish a little wistfully/hypothetically that I was childless still. And not pregnant. The mobility and extra energy would allow me to do more exploring, etc. There are so many nooks and crannies to poke around. Ah well.

I hope I'll have a chance to return and really get to know that area a lot better. Today we mostly walked along St John's Street. There are two butcher shops there that I might actually step into and buy something from in the future. The falafel store at the end of that street, George's, seems to be run by an Arab Christian family. It's really good, the restroom facility's nicely maintained, and the customer service is lovely. It seems that vendors--the good ones--don't like to sell their edible products until the customer has sampled a variety of their stock. Apparently there are two other famed falafel places in the neighborhood on Wadi Street that other people are loyal towards. I'd like to try and see the difference... It reminds me of Philadelphians' personal preferences about where to get their cheesesteak sandwiches.

We also bought Christmas lights and some tinsels to decorate the little Christmas tree that Or and Kirsten lent us. Since the Eastern Orthodox church doesn't celebrate Christmas until January 6, I figured it's worth the 100 shekels on these decorations for us to have the tree around until then.

passing observations

During the last Israeli military operation, one of Daniel's colleagues received advice about riding the bus: The best seats are at the very front or the very back, because suicide bombers tend to sit in the middle for the greatest impact when they trigger the explosion. When I was riding in an extremely crowded bus one night a few weeks ago, I noticed that the aisle next to me was noticeably roomier than the front and the back of the bus despite all the standing passengers. I guess most Israelis got that memo. I was sitting in the most middle seat on the bus.

A big difference between how things are done in Israel vs. China seems to be that, in China, no matter how well-organized and conscientious you are about fulfilling the stated procedures for anything official, there are always still at least ten hidden steps that nobody's willing to help you with or be responsible for. In Israel, the bureaucracy can get pretty bad too, but as long as you inquire ahead of time and are prepared for the fine prints, you will most likely succeed. There's a nurses' strike going on right now, and one of the conditions is that patients are not allowed to go inside a lot of the clinics around where we live. Thus, the doors are locked and watched over by security. Unfortunately, I've been trying to get a blood testing done since I was 26 weeks pregnant (I'm 35 weeks now) and have been unsuccessful in my attempt amidst my confusion about the Israeli medical system. Since my "deadline" is coming up and my midwife really needs some information beyond the July blood test information, Daniel and I showed my medical card and argued with all the details we've learned by this point about what is required. The security guard acquiesced our entrance through the locked door...and while waiting, I noticed that nobody was actually turned away as long as they knocked on the door and made arguments for why they should still enter. That's really awesome... how the culture is so people-oriented. Things may be hard, and people could be really abrasive on the surface, but when push comes to shove, I witness time and time again how Israelis value helping people over the official policies.

I still didn't end up getting my blood test because I was confused about how glucose testing is done here vs. in the States. My bad... trying again on Thursday. The clinic said to go back then, despite the nurses' strike. Cool.

Somewhat related to my second passing observation just now, I'm really impressed by how developed and diverse Israeli humanitarian/volunteer organizations are. This is one of the biggest reasons why I'm troubled by accusations of Israel being a "military occupier" or "terrorist country" or  called "Israheil" aka the new Nazis via a lot of Palestinian advocacy sites I've started following for the sake of being more well-rounded in my information regarding the Middle East land conflict.  On one hand, I'm troubled by the Israeli government's push for more settlements in contested territory. And I have actual dreams in which I tried to work out (in my dreams) how Israel and Palestine might in fact co-exist peacefully without blockades around Gaza or IDF presence in the West Bank. And I do not by any means discount Palestinian deaths, even if a lot of the deaths happen as a result of open hostilities and provoked attacks triggered on the part of the Palestinians themselves. I've been trying to understand to the best of my ability, without any sense of allegiance to Israel itself (since I'm just a visitor here), just why Israel is so hated and opposed... And, honestly, I'm not saying that Israel's without its problems of social equality like other countries, but there's no real apartheid here. There's no discrimination against Arab-Jewish citizens on the same level as hatred towards the Jews. And right now, Israeli mothers and other Israeli citizens are rounding up blankets and clothes to send to Syria for the enormous refugee population. Syrian refugees, most of whom do not acknowledge Israel's right to exist. Time and time again, I learn about Israel's humanitarian aid to official enemies or non-Israel-supporting entities. Gaza receives medical supply and support on a regular basis from Israel despite the fact that its ruling body is so consistently deficient in payment that other Arab countries around the region (such as Jordan) now refuse to provide Gaza with any medical supplies.

The last passing observation is something that I'm still following closely, because I am genuinely confused by all the vitriol that I find out there regarding anything Israel. Once again, in living here, I see a lot of things that Israel could do better, need to do better, in order to show its willingness to co-exist. The argument that Israel should be wiped out altogether is a ridiculous idea to me, for reasons I don't have time to get into right now; That really should not be the only condition for peace to be possible.

the third (?) day of hanukkah

All I had for dinner tonight were donuts (aka sufganiyot) and latkes. I think I'm done celebrating Hanukkah.

In the end, I'm glad I volunteered to make latkes at the Haifa English Speakers Hanukkah party. If I hadn't, I would have opted to stay home on account of my sore back and foul mood. Instead, I fried up some genuine latkes for the first time ever after reading 10+ cooking blog entries about "secrets" to great latkes. Was amazed by actual existence of potato starch, which I was skeptical would actually condense/appear from the potato water I squeezed out of the grated potatoes. And several people were nice enough to come chat with me as I fried up latkes in Gael's apartment's kitchen. The best time I had at the party was actually during the breaks in my frying duty, as the few people who drifted into the kitchen stayed to chat. I got to meet finally and talk with Natalie, the English Speakers organizer, who is sadly leaving Israel soon. I would have loved to become friends with her. She's completing a PhD in children's literature and psychological development and has the most deadpan dry British humor. And was very kind and encouraging about my career hopes as well as (even though she admits to not wanting/liking kids herself) the importance and value of raising children.

She's just really, really cool. I wish I'm cool like her.

It was fun getting to know a few more new people as well, like Ronan the Technion masters student who loves his study in mechanical engineering ("It's like getting to play every day!" -- how cool to see someone loving what they do). Gael, who I had met once during the game night I hosted, was extremely motherly and insistent that I sit to rest and drink to stay hydrated during the moments I wait for the latkes to turn golden. (I think she's mildly afraid I might go into labor at her place.) And getting a ride home up the steep hills of Haifa from Andy and Shadi was so, so appreciated. (Super windy today, with sporadic showers.)

So I'm glad I didn't stay home to feed my unexplainable down-ness. And that I've quite gotten my fill of donuts for a long, long while. Daniel and Declan had a good time too, I think.

on the way to church and back

It's....well, not surreal, but slightly disorienting--yeah, that's it--to be riding on a big charter bus up Mt. Carmel, passing the trees and trails of Carmel National Park while the people behind me chattered in Russian, the people ahead of me mumbled in Hebrew, and the bus radio played the Korean pop song "Gangnam Style."

I was on my way to a Messianic congregation located around where the prophet Elijah faced off with all the priests representing Baal once upon a time. There was a group of middle-aged Chinese visitors from the States (Daniel noticed they gave their monetary offerings in USD), sitting just one row in front of me, during congregational worship. A part of me really really really wanted to talk with them, because it's so, so rare to see another Chinese face, let alone 10 of them! But a part of me didn't want to get all ethnically giddy on tourists that probably want to experience the Holy Land tour uninterrupted. I ended up completely ignoring them.

Declan threw up all the donuts and latkes on the sherut ride home. The congregation had handed out these treats in lieu of Hannukah. They were delicious.

a psychological overview of this past year or two

In a week or two, my little family will have stayed in Israel for longer than we stayed in China.

This will seem like quite a milestone for me, because I do feel some guilt over Daniel's decision to quit his job in China in the face of his PhD advisor and Chinese boss' adamant advices not to do so. I know that, even though Daniel didn't like how much time got squandered in the embedded bureaucracy of the math department there, how toxic the working relationships at that university was, how shady the channels of financial compensation were rigged, and how oppressive and lawless the living conditions were in general, he would probably have stuck it out if it weren't for how unhappy I was.

On my end, if Daniel had been happier at his job and if we didn't have Declan to be responsible for, I would have probably stuck it out too, given how I was making some decent local friends, starting to get a feel for the expat scene, and getting potential job leads.

But the fact remained that Daniel and I were bound to each other in marriage, equally upset to see how the other one was suffering, and our child was constantly getting sick there. The decision to leave was an extremely difficult one. My parents were against it as well, but we fell upon the unabashed support of Daniel's mom. The professional (and financial) repercussions of this decision had been tough and we are still feeling it. I sense that Daniel's a lot less self-assured about being a math researcher as a result, and we're waiting to see if the institutions he'd applied for next year's academic cycle will judge him for leaving.

All of the above is the biggest single reason why I felt/feel terrible for struggling in my life here, now. For all my complaints about the hot weather that's finally drawing to an end, passing into rain season, and the linguistic and social isolation, the outrageously high cost of living... there's actually a part of me that is really glad and thankful that we get to live here. I miss friends I already have and cultural things I 'm comfortable with so much, but I'm starting to grasp a sense of the unique and interesting attitudes/ways that form Israeli life. I really didn't want to "fail again" at living abroad, at seeming to not be able to live anywhere else besides the two countries in which I grew up.

So I threw myself into checking out venues of distraction and enrichment, resources that would help my little family survive the day-to-day here. Life in China certainly broke us in to face the difficulties here with a lot more sense of humor than otherwise, because we know how much worse it could be. Along the way, I think we're also being exceptionally blessed and cared for by God, because other postdocs/expats who've been here longer have repeatedly expressed amazement at how quickly we're navigating through life here. Even though, and especially because, I become more and more anti-social and reclusive further into my pregnancy, I'm forcing myself to meet and get to know new/more people. This week, there was an English book club that met fairly late which I wanted to bail from, then there was an "Asian" restaurant outing with a bunch of postdocs near Castra mall. In the end, even though so much activity triggered pretty strong contractions for me that lasted basically all afternoon and night yesterday, I'm glad I didn't skip out and in exchange got to hear about other people's lives a bit more and understand them better. I slept in today and the contractions went away, thank goodness.

On the other hand, there persists this dark cloud that permeates all of my perception, that I cannot beat back with my frenzied planning or socializing. That tells me I'm still failing, that I'm going to mess everything up, that I'm dragging Daniel down and not raising Declan optimally. And I'm starting to wonder if this condition is something that transcends anything material or circumstantial in my life--it wouldn't matter if I were living in any country under any financial/social condition--and will follow me to my grave.

I'm glad for Hanukkah starting soon, to give me some breather from this mundane crush. In the meantime, I also treasure these little milestones in my family's personal history. Anything to stay afloat.

and then the weekend

It's been pretty busy time towards the end of last week... Besides the postdoc dinner on Wednesday, Daniel and I hosted a game night Thursday night with a bunch of other people from the Haifa English Speakers facebook group. I was a bit unsure if it'd go well, since people didn't rsvp until fairly last minute and also showed up later. (Another similarity between Jewish and Chinese culture--the so-called "Asian time"--expecting people to show up 30 minutes later than planned--applies in Israel as well.) But game night was in the end quite fun! Apparently, I had more fun than Daniel did...even though he's the one who won Settlers. My team kicked his team's butts in Taboo though, probably given that his team consisted of a cross-cultural Israeli, a Belgium, and...Daniel, the consummate American. I had to tell him to not even try to get his team to guess "The Stetsons."

Sadly, things got a little dicey for Declan's and my health as the weekend (Friday and Saturday here) approached. Maybe it's one of the game night attendees' toddler chewing and drooling over Declan's toys, maybe it's one of the postdocs' baby that was having a fever for several days while hanging out with us, maybe it's the cats at the postdoc's home that basically shut down my respiratory system by the end of our lunch visit. One of these reasons caused me to stay in bed for most of the weekend sneezing and trying to get enough air through my incredibly congested sinus. I think I had a bit of fever as well. Meanwhile, Declan now officially has the croup after a few days of my thinking it was just a minor cold. Now I really felt bad for not being more sympathetic to his complete preference for me over the babysitter this morning. The babysitter and I ended up hanging out together with Declan after he got really worked up crying while I stayed in the other room, hoping to "train" him not to be so physically attached to me. Eventually, Declan developed a seal bark-cough and started wheezing and having trouble telling stories while trying to breath. This was about an hour after I gave up trying to study Hebrew today and just hung out with him, so it's a really good thing I didn't allow him to cry for longer before I changed today's plans.

Now I'm making turkey broth with vegetables on the stove, and hopefully that will help Declan's vocal cords and sinus feel better. Sigh. I should be more thankful during the times when everyone's just fine and healthy.

postdoc dinner

Last night, seven Technion postdoctoral students stopped by around seven to eat dinner at our place. I put on an old Disney movie via Youtube to distract Declan while I prepped dinner, starting at 3:30/4pm. It is so strange how I never noticed how racist/classist old Disney movies are when I used to watch the few I did as a child. Check out Lady and the Tramp and the first 10 minutes of 101 Dalmatians to see what I mean. The menu ended up being:

Butternut squash and apple soup
Spinach risotto
Sweet potato puree with nut crust
Roasted root vegetables (anise, jerusalem root, beets, with cilantro garnish)
Roasted stuffed green pepper halves (filling: mushroom, cheese, onion, breadcrumb, egg, with soy sauce and black pepper to taste)
Shaksouka - brought over by one of the postdocs' boyfriend, who is currently working in a northern kibbutz and travels south to see her on weekends
Tapioca pudding - brought over by one of the postdocs, whose almost-eight-months-old baby was having a fever last night and therefore was a bit out of it

I got to know some of the postdocs a little more... It amuses me how far-flung from around the world we are. Well, actually not really. There's still a bit of cultural homogenization despite the different countries: Former Soviet Union (now Ukraine), Germany, France, Switzerland/Indonesia, USA (Texas, New York, Minnesota, Illinois/Oregon/Pennsylvania). It seemed like everyone had a good time, and that lightened my mood a bit. Daniel washing most of the dishes afterwards so that I didn't have to face a dirty and crowded kitchen sink and countertop this morning was also *super* nice.

I wonder how much things will change once our daughter arrives. I wonder if I would still be able to make dinner for people to come over and eat/hang out together. Perhaps I will just be absolutely overjoyed to have enough shut-eye time. Yes, a bit apprehensive.

thanksgiving this year

Last year, in China, celebrating Thanksgiving consisted of walking from our apartment to the Vineyard, the bar/restaurant that also served as a regular waterhole/gathering place for all Hangzhou expats, widening our eyes at its incredibly expensive (by the standard of the local salary Daniel was earning) Thanksgiving menu, and being able to decline with relief the head chef's invite that we come back another day because it was a RSVP-required event anyway.

This year, Daniel, Declan, and I were invited to four different Thanksgiving dinner gatherings, and we accepted the first two invites, which happened on Thursday night and Friday night.

The Thursday night crowd consisted of a bunch of random mostly late-20s/some 30s/a few early 40s English speakers from the Eastern seaboard of the US, England, Australia, other parts of Europe. A lot were math postdocs at Technion or from other Israeli institutions who had rode the train up from the south. It was loud, crowded, short on quality food, but well-stocked in liquor. The turkey was brined and deliciously moist, and the green bean casserole that I liked so much was gone in about 30 seconds. I also accidentally grabbed a cup that I had thought was clean/new, but upon the first few sips, realized that it was most likely someone's discard, which they had not thrown away but simply put down next to the stack of new, unused tower of cups. It was like making out with a drunk frat boy during a college party. Yuck. Declan ate a lot of turkey because he likes salty things, then he threw it all up on the bus ride home. (Thank goodness I kept the plastic bag that we brought our dinner contributions in!) Haifa has very curvy and hilly roads, and Declan's motion sickness on busses is yet another reason-- aside from last week's likelihood of bus bombings--that limits my mobility around the city.

Friday afternoon consisted of Daniel and I making fried garlic mashed potatoes, a sweet potato dish, and white/dark chocolate chip cookies to take over to Kirsten's and Or's place. A lot of their (and our, now) friends from Tel Aviv rented cars and drove up to eat together. It was wonderful. Especially with the home-made gravy that I drizzled over e-ve-ry-thing. We gave thanks before dinner for the Iron Dome, the ceasefire, everyone being safe during Operation Pillar of Defense, Rachel's seven-week-old baby, and a new pregnancy amongst us. I ate more than I needed, and did not regret my gluttony at all.

So. My Thanksgiving 2012 chronicles. Who knows what next year will bring.

an honest picture of my day

While I was making his lunch, attempt #2, this afternoon (Declan refused to eat the tuna salad sandwich I made so I decided to try fried rice since that would include a little bit of ketchup), he started hitting the stove with his drum sticks. I told him to stop. He yelled, "No!" and hit the stove some more and harder. I told him to stop one more time. He repeated the above process.

I just got too sick of his shit. I understand he's only two, but I'm tired of him acting like a spoiled brat each and every day and I am the only one that has to take it every single day, some days every hour, by myself.

So I took his drum sticks away. And he HOWLED, and I really wanted to yell at him to shut up and smack him, so instead I shut myself out in the balcony. Somehow he got the balcony door opened, and came howling at me again. I went to the kitchen and separated us with the door. This time he couldn't open the door, but instead spent the next half an hour screaming, throwing himself at the door, and screaming so more.

I sat at the kitchen table, listening to his yelling and pounding, and I thought about how easy it would be for me to just cut my wrists with the kitchen knife. Or throat. Maybe I could leave a note for Daniel to shut off the stove when he gets home as I remembered the chicken soup with vegetables that I had just started simmering. I decided this idea is not the best as my husband would probably get too distracted by my corpse on the kitchen floor and waste an entire pot of good soup.

So I waited...and wondered how I got here as Declan continued to pound and scream. There was never a question of whether or not Declan has stamina. A small part of me worried about all the stress hormones that might be coursing through him at the moment, but mostly I just felt numb.

At one point, I heard him run away, down the hall. So I opened the door to follow him. He heard the door and came running back. This time, he silently lifted his arms up and appealed with his eyes for me to lift him up and hold him. So I did. Now he's eating the lunch attempt #2 after I refused on four occasions not to add any more ketchup or to feed him cookies or ice cream instead.

I don't think I'm in a good place right now. I am afraid it's getting worse. I seriously thought about ending my life today or not caring if Declan fell off the balcony. I don't know how to stop or reverse this descent.

my heart weeps

Tears of sympathy and also anger.

Sympathy as I read the news and watch the numbers of rockets and Palestinian casualties climb. Wincing at the danger everyone within rocket range is still in, and knowing how the death of innocents will be used for hate propaganda that only serves to stop peace negotiations. I cry helplessly as I watch and dream of video coverages of both Israeli and Palestinian children running in terror to the closest "safe" place as the shrill sound of rocket grows louder.

Anger because friends with limited access to up-to-date information are spouting insensitive and over-simplistic rhetoric on facebook, not to mention irrelevant. The fundamental issues of land rights and state sovereignty should be discussed, yes, but could we focus right now on how ceasefire should be achieved right now? I can understand Arab fb users calling the Israelis all sorts of derogatory names based on a decades-long grudge caused by a variety of reasons, but what the hell are my American friends getting all riled up about in complete favor of one side without any regard for the suffering and danger that ordinary civilians on the other side are also experiencing right fucking now?

I am by turns so glad I'm here in the Middle East during this current violence, because I'm really starting to understand more of the situation from both sides. And it's not weird for me to care so much and spend so much time researching up on the issues because my family's here, and we can't leave as a lot of moms I've been talking to are thinking given that I'm so pregnant at this point. And by turns kind of wistful about my previous disinterestedness, because it's been a really emotional couple of days encountering all sorts of comments that I could have let pass in the past, but now feel responsible in responding to. I feel a great deal of the important issues in hand are being muddied and I cannot simply stand aside and watch that continue.

God, I can only pray. In the end, only You are in control.

bookmark regarding the current escalating violence between Hamas and southern Israel

Breaking news: Egyptian President Morsi condemns "brutal assault" on Gaza, recalls his ambassador from Tel Aviv and calls for an emergency session of the UN Security Council - http://www.jpost.com/MiddleEast/Article.aspx?id=291872

My immediate thought upon reading this in the Jerusalem Post:

(1) So Hamas firing 100+ rockets at hospitals, schools, and residential areas in Israeli towns for over a week is not considered a "brutal assault"? (2) The UN security council is such a joke at this point.

It feels so surreal to be reading on Israeli mothers fb group from actual moms in southern Israel preparing to pack up their kids and other moms up north (like in Haifa) offering places to stay. These are moms that, just two weeks ago, have been posting about the typical early childhood issues such as teething, food, sleep... The Israeli government has set up a hotline for southern Israel residents to call if they want to evacuate, and northern residents can also call to volunteer to host. Daniel and I thought about hosting, except most of the southern Israelis only speak Hebrew, so communications might be a really big issue...

I've been lax about writing lately despite a lot of things going on, but I'm also been having so much pain related to this pregnancy that I'm contemplating the possibility of needing to do bedrest. Soooo... will hopefully catch up on things soon, once Declan's two-year birthday celebrations and Thanksgiving preparations/gatherings and housework are finally all completed.

trying to be positive

I wish that I could be in Pittsburgh right now, and take Declan exploring through Frick Park or Schenley Park every morning. Imagining the two of us heaping golden leaf piles and "hiking" with sticks, as well as stumbling upon deer nests.

I wish I could have made Jess' Rwanda photo gallery show, and hung out with other friends. Enjoying the music and cookies and cool autumn weather in a light sweater.

I wish I could make fall dishes like pumpkin soup and pumpkin cookies and pumpkin pies. Using the crockpot to make stew and briskets, etc.

I wish I have good friends to visit on weeknights and a church community to immerse myself in during the weekend.

I wish it's not such a struggle to meet up with potential new friends due to my limited physical capacity during this really uncomfortable pregnancy and my unfamiliarity with the bus system here. Looking up destinations with the Egged website is really not that easy, even with English translation. The conversation I had just now in order to find a ride to an English book club makes me just want to give up altogether. Could I have highlighted my airheadedness and ineptitude at living life here any better?

* * *

I am thankful to know *some* people in Haifa that also likes Declan. Like Kirsten and Or, Mark who would visit from Tel Aviv, and some of the moms I'm getting to know at Monday and Wednesday Mommy and Me classes.

I am thankful for a fairly reliable babysitter that Declan likes to play with, who comes on Sunday and Thursday mornings for three hours.

I am thankful that we have enough money to live on, even though the cost of living in Israel is incredibly high.

I am thankful for this large apartment that should be sufficient even when the new baby comes.

I am thankful that Declan's starting to communicate with words and learning to use the toilet pretty well.

everything is gray

On Thursday night, Daniel, Declan, and I took the Carmelit to Massada Street. Rumor has it that a street party was taking place there, and the Carmelit was free to ride on that night. It turned out all right. Rain and thunder. Open-aired burger/fries and pomegranate juice place. Because it seems most Israelis don't pick up after their dogs' poop, I wouldn't let Declan play in the puddle after the last big bout of rain while we were at the street party. I suspected plenty of fecal matter run-off congregated in the water, and was semi-impressed, semi-disgusted, and semi-incredulous that another mom was letting her toddlers jump up and down in them. It proved too torturous for Declan to simply watch without joining in on the play, so we had to move and distract until Daniel's colleague and her boyfriend finally met up with us in the crowd.

On Friday night, Mark and his mom traveled up from Tel Aviv and we all shared a cab to Nesher to eat dinner with Or and Kirsten. There were tender meatballs in tomato sauce, nicely flavored crockpot bone-in chicken with mushrooms, roasted fingerling potatoes sprinkled with rock salt, among other things. It was delicious. I brought over some sauteed greens via the CSA supply and zucchini chocolate chip muffins, which I kind of over-baked.

Then, today, we had banana pancakes with imported Canadian maple syrup with Mark and his mom, a stroll along the Louis Promenade, and a lunch of four differently stuffed bourekas with hard-boiled eggs and Israeli pickles.

It was nice...to have company of friends. Comfortable people who I truly feel at ease around. Still, I don't know what's wrong with me... I feel "like butter spread out over too much bread." It's not because I'm awfully bored at home with Declan. There's now a schedule in place during the mornings: Mondays and Wednesdays, I stroller Declan over to Vardiya (a 25-minute hilly walk) to a Hebrew mommy-and-me group. Sundays and Thursdays, I study Hebrew for three hours while Declan plays with a babysitter.

When I meet up with friends and hang out with them for a period of time, the gray shroud lifts temporarily. And it's not that I dislike living in Israel--I'm increasingly grateful for the chance to observe the culture here firsthand. One year is really a very short time to experience a foreign country.

Yet, I'm still dragging my feet, psychologically, every single day. Not quite sure I'll make it to another day without going crazy. I am, in a word, unhappy, but I don't really know why.

the israeli spirit

So. In all my crazy, concentrated traveling in the past two years, I've come to a realization: There are no perfect place/country on Earth.

I love my Taiwan, in the same way that I recognize a lot of Americans love their USA and Israelis who've made aliyah love their Israel. But I think, if all of us are truly honest with ourselves, we could point out a lot of problems with our first-love nations. And actually it is because of our great loves that we're able to point out a lot of deficiencies and problems we would like to see improved. For the sake of our countries' futures and our people's well-being.

However, there are still some countries that are better to live in than others, and which I would feel supportive of more than others. For example, I still despise China with all my heart, even though my hatred for it is not really with its people, except maybe that part of some of them that cover up or make light of their government's abuse. And when Daniel jokingly told me that there's a job position open in Beirut, Lebanon, I flat out said no, seriously. But, even though the US will probably always feel slightly foreign to me and I, always slightly scornful and greatly frustrated by the ignorance and entitlement that such a great part of its population possesses, I've grown much fonder of it as I witness more of life in other countries. Americans really have it very, very good. I can only chuckle at all the campaign outrage and complaints about rising gas prices on my American friends' FB newsfeed. This is not to say that the US doesn't have some serious fundamental problems, like with its public health, health care system, public education, national debt, and food market system -- to name the ones I especially worry about -- but, dang, it is so convenient and comfortable to live there on a day-to-day basis. What I appreciate most about life in the US: freedom and options for choice in basically every aspect of life. Freedom to seek information, which are much more readily accessible than in most other countries I've been to (aside from Taiwan). Which is why it's even more annoying how much quite a lot of Americans take such wonderful things for granted.

My point is, and I do have one, is that Israel's starting to grow on me... Back to my original point about every country having its own problems, there are so many things I could complain about life in israel. And reading other people's posts/rants in Israeli facebook groups confirm that I'm not just being an American softie. But, I'm starting to grow fond of some fundamental things about Israel that is truly unique to this country.

For instance, I'm still really impressed people's reaction during the burning bus incident. In the States, and I would expect even in Taiwan, if the same thing happened, there would be small-scale panic, probably some shoving, and at least two or three people falling down as everyone rushes out the bus doors. I mentioned how united in motion everyone was to my midwife during our last meeting, and she said that it's because everyone who lives in Israel long-term has essentially a plan for any emergency situation. Frankly, just reading about bus bombings in several of the Israeli novels I recently finished give me the creeps, and discovering that Haifa's last bus bombing (in 2003) occurred basically a block away from our apartment has made me look at that bus number with special regard when I see it go past.

And yet the Egged bus system in Haifa (and Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, where bus bombings happened even more frequently) is still fully functioning. Thriving, even.

My midwife, who specializes in helping women who've been through trauma to give birth naturally, also shared with me a paper she wrote that got published in one of the Israeli psychiatric journals. The paper details the experiences of Israeli women who became pregnant and gave birth after surviving terrorist attacks, and how the memories of the attacks either helped or re-traumatized them during their birthing. It's fascinating to read, and equally fascinating, how many of them just reflexively protected themselves and then carried on. One nine-month-pregnant woman was riding on a bus that exploded--she instinctively covered her face and bent down to protect her stomach as the bus windows shattered and metal pieces separated. Apparently Israeli busses are designed so that the doors automatically open in the event of an explosion, and so she got up once the initial blast settled, clambered over bodies and dismembered body parts, hopped off the bus, and sprinted for about five minutes, away from the site. Afterwards, she was physically treated like all the survivors were, and went on to give birth naturally without any post-traumatic stress disorder or long-term trauma.

Like, wow. This, to me, is a snapshot of the Israeli spirit. The threat of losing national land here is very real, and national security is no joke. Along every bus route and at the entrance of every large public space, there is a checkpoint and bag examiners. And yet, it's...not a big deal. Not in the day-to-day anyway, which is what real life is made of. The Israeli spirit is, at least on a daily basis, not a paranoid one. It is joyful and slightly (or, at 2am by the park across the street from our bedroom, very) hedonistic. And, at the same time in the back of its mind, prepared for the worst case scenario without dwelling on it.

This duality is really awesome. It gives life dignity, somehow.

stepping in and out of my limited perspective

At some point in my life, I suddenly gained the realization that everyone has his own perspective on life. More specifically, the people in the room at the time when this epiphany hit me were all thinking and seeing everything else in the room from their vantage points. I know this is so ridiculously obvious, but I can tell that this is not a thought that is even remotely on my son's radar right now. And this thought explains so much, and makes me be a lot less blase about people in general.

My point is, it also makes me realize that nobody else truly understands exactly how another person feels. Not truly and exactly, you know? It's all approximations, with some people being better empathizers/guessers/imaginers than others. And that's also why I'm sure that the life Daniel and I have been living for the last two years probably looks a lot different to other people than within our little family. We've picked up and moved from Pittsburgh to China to Seattle to Taiwan to Israel, with paperworks galore and need to figure out how each of these places provides for Daniel, Declan, me, and now our daughter-to-be as well. In this month alone, Daniel, Declan, and I had: (1) an encounter with a wild boar in the middle of the night during the dark of night while trekking through the Carmel forest along a path that (we found out last night via a friend who actually finished the trail) ends in a Jewish cemetery, and (2) evacuated along with a full busload of other passengers off a bus that ended up burning down to its charred skeletal frame. 

The funny thing is that when people hear about all of our moves, they think, wow, you're traveling all over the world. How exciting! And when they hear about the near wild boar goring and the burnt down bus, they say, what adventures! Sometimes when I distance myself from, well, myself, and think about our lives, it does seem pretty incredible. But mostly, we struggle with loneliness that comes from being constantly uprooted, culture shock at needing to fight for daily needs in a new system with a new language, and just psychological fatigue at being so rootless and constantly living out of our luggages and sublets--with no end in sight. I must admit that I do, in a way, really appreciate these two recent events. Suddenly being confronted with a very real possibility of a wild boar seriously injuring my husband and son, or when everyone was running swiftly off the bus with the question on all our minds as to whether it's a faulty bomb about to explode, there's that jolt of reminder: Every moment of our lives is not to be taken for granted.

It's just a fact so easily forgotten when I get so used to living out of my own perspective. I get bored with myself, and my life, yet stressed and tired by the lack of community and groups of friends that I enjoyed during graduate school in Pittsburgh. But it's true what someone said when she commented that God must have a legion of angels protecting me and my family--it reminds me of the car crash in 2006 that everyone at the scene said I should have died in. It reminds me of a lot of things that has happened along the way to my little family that we always thanked God for taking care of right after the crises passed. I think my struggle with feeling so alone and scared and worried about our present and future leaves out a lot of this kind of perspective. The viewpoint that a legion of angels has been appointed to our family, charged by God. Enough things have happened for that to not sound at all ridiculous to me. 

Hm.

Credit: Paul Caruso's Twitter account for the Jerusalem Post

Egged bus no. 28 after our evacuation

a brief reflection, that was originally supposed to be a mere tangent

Lately, when Declan sees a Batman comic book or his Spiderman pillowcase (both courtesy of the boys whose family's apartment we're currently subletting), he would point to the Batman symbol or Spiderman's tight bums and say, "Mama!"

I waver between feeling flattered and being very, very confused.

Sometimes I get really irritated that my son is simply inseparable from me. No matter where I go, even just not being in the same room as he is for, say, 10 minutes, and very soon, I would hear an inquisitive little voice saying, "Mama? Mama??" This is a constant refrain from the darkened bedroom when Daniel's coaxing Declan to sleep at bedtime.

Still, a part of me is really glad for this connection. I have a sneaking suspicion that children have the monopoly on unconditional love, and at some point in their lives, they start losing it for some reason, even (or in some cases, especially) towards their parents. And parents, being imperfect beings as all humans are, always have some things about which their children need to forgive them at some point in the latter's life. Oh sure, there are some people I've came upon who have unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents in all stages of their life. These people, in my experience, tend to be deeply couched in some kind of religious culture and never really moved that far away from their parents on their own. And my limiting, somewhat belittling categorization is, without a doubt, due to my wistful envy of said unbelievably wonderful relationships with their parents. I don't know if I would trade all of my life experiences for that, but...on some days, especially the days when I just got off the phone after another soul-crushing and disappointing conversation with my parents, I actually would. As I became a parent myself, I see more and more how truly tragic it is for a child and parent to be unable to understand and support each other, no matter their ages.

I sometimes wonder what these "some things" are that Declan and his sister will have to forgive their father and me for. And that makes me hyper-vigilant about my conducts and attitudes towards everything so that, at least, I would have given it my best shot in building a solid unbreakable bond between us.

In the meantime, I should do my best to enjoy the early childhood days when Declan identifies me as a superhero clad in tight spandex.

enjoying organic, local, and seasonal produce via israel's community-supported agriculture

I'm so excited and glad that I had not put off calling back the CSA referred by Noga to iron out the possibility of my family's subscription. One of the things I was really bummed about in having to leave Pittsburgh was relinquishing my jobs as a pickup point person for two local farms. One of them pay in cash and any leftover produce box that any customer fails to pick up that day, and the other one pays in one subscription that introduced me to sweet local strawberries, brussel sprouts, rutabagas, beets, and other vegetables/fruits that I would never have tried or enjoyed if my only food source was the supermarket.

When I made the call this morning, the delivery people were just about to head out and make their Haifa deliveries, which happens on Tuesdays. I'm also thankful that Daniel had gotten American Express prepaid cards that I was able to use to make payments with as a regular customer, because the only way to pay this farm was via credit card over the phone. Makes sense that they don't want their delivery people to be loaded down with cash as they make their rounds.

A few things happened recently that seem to be direct responses to a recent query/rant/complaint to God by me while "in the pit of despair."  I hope to elaborate later for my own posterity. Right now, I need to wash Declan's butt and try to put him down for a nap.

the bitter melon years

Today, I officially start learning Hebrew...and we'll see how much I've learned by the end of my time in Israel. My friend Sherry from Oregon ordered some Hebrew textbooks and had Amazon ship it to Haifa. Daniel picked it up from the post office. There're three books in all, emphasizing different aspects of the language. I've started on the thinnest one, which emphasizes how to read the aleph bet. Since I don't know a lot of only-Hebrew-speaking people here, I'm going to tackle my illiteracy first of all so that maybe I'll be able to start learning vocabulary (finally!) from being able to decipher, say, my grocery bill receipt.

Having something very practical and useful to do, to learn, that's apart from the mundane tasks of housekeeping and child-caring is....really, really nice. It makes me feel almost like my own person again. Or a fragment of my own person.

I managed to do two lessons from the 10-lesson textbook during Declan's nap time just now.  Most likely, when the new baby comes, it'll be an intense couple of months or first year of not having even this pocket of time to myself, but at least I won't be pregnant anymore. The going away of pregnancy hormones that bump up my suicidal streak would be ample compensation for lost studying time. Meanwhile, let me seize the moment now.

I think this is perhaps the saddest thing in my life: that I have become so removed from the day-to-day life of all of my friends and family due to the constant moving and social isolation I've experienced since I got married that, were I to drop dead tomorrow, nobody's life would really be affected at all.

Except that of my son and husband, of course. But that's usually what happens when your live-in maid and nanny quit working all of a sudden.

God doesn't actually love me, does He. Because I have to wonder why He's perfectly fine with me being this way.

and it is decided

The visit to the birth center called Agoola, located in Beit Lechem Haglilit (aka "Bethlehem of Galilee"), took two hours of bus-riding from Haifa to the destination, with three bus transfers. The last bus was not run by Egged (the Israeli public bus system), but a private charter company. Declan got car-sick midway there, and vomited a little bit on himself and Daniel. As Declan inherited this trait from me, I also felt pretty ill by the end of our travels and really zoned out during and after the (also) two-hour-long bus ride home.

However, it was all worth it.

Beit Lechem Haglilit is a moshav, that is, a community farm with individually-owned family units. The birth center, Agoola, is actually just the basement of my midwife's house converted into a homey apartment-looking place, equipped with all the thing one needs for birthing and postpartum tests. There's a room for dry births and overnight stay, and a huge luxurious cocoon-esque jacuzzi tub with a headrest in the bathroom for those interested in water births. Plus a kitchenette.  I was all set to do a home birth at my actual home in Haifa just so I could be spared the commute up north, but one look at that tub and I'm pretty much decided on renting a car to Beit Lechem Haglilit for the birthing. 

I learned a lot from my midwife about the antepartum, birthing, and postpartum care and medical system here in Israel. For example, new moms who are Israeli citizens receive a stipend from the government for giving birth, and their birthing is free no matter where they give birth. On top of that, the government pays the hospital in which the woman gave birth 11,000 shekels. This is also why, as non-Israeli citizens, we must pay 11,000 shekels right off the bat in order to give birth at any hospitals here, not counting other actual birthing-related costs. Thanks, Israel, for making my decision to not birth in a hospital that much easier. (Although, for our current arrangement, should complications arise and I have to be transferred to the closest hospital, which is in Nazareth, I'd need to pay my midwife her fee of 5000 shekels as well as the typical hospital bill.)

The things left to do are to find out what my health insurance really is and also a doula. If it's Clalit Platinum, we might be able to get some subsidy for hiring a midwife and/or a doula.  Daniel wasn't sure, after our pleasant experience at Agoola, whether we still in fact need a doula. Our midwife said that most women who opt for home births usually don't feel they need one, but I plan to interview some anyway because of the Declan factor. Last time I gave birth, there were my doula, midwife, mom, Jess, *and* Daniel as part of my team at the hospital. This time, it would just be my midwife and Daniel since my mom--if she actually makes it here to Israel for the birth--would need to help watch Declan back at home. And if my labor goes long, I'd feel a lot better if my midwife still has someone to help her care for me while Daniel drives back to Haifa to take care of Declan. We have a really high-maintenance son who has never went to sleep for a nap (except once, with Judy) or bedtime without either his dad or me being there, and even then it's always been something of a fight unless he was really exhausted.  So that's something I still worry about for my daughter's birthing--how my son's going to handle the strange disruption of our absence.

But that is a small potato compared to what I had been worrying about, which I don't have to worry about anymore. Thank God.

final hand-wringing about birth options in israel (hopefully)

So I just spent about three hours researching online regarding the best places to give birth in/near Haifa, and the best people (midwife/doula) to do it with.

Exhausted. Momentarily discouraged, again. This search was triggered by the correspondence last night with yet another mother I was introduced to before we took our Italy trip. I had been pretty excited about meeting Allyson and her then-eight-month-old son...but then she said her family's moving a week after we return from Italy. Then, I was pretty excited about meeting Miriam and her three kids...until she told me last night via FB that she's leaving for Germany in a month. Her family decided it'd be best for her to give birth to their fourth child there than do it here in Israel.

And, after all the searches in the last three hours, I totally empathize with her decision. Still, one encouraging note for me is that I decided to take one last thorough read of Allyson's email--which is quite long and chock full of her prenatal and birthing experience in Haifa--and discovered that a lot of the options and names I stumbled across on my own and read about are actually already mentioned in her email. I had missed all these before, and happily, a lot of my own conclusions are bolstered by her own experience. So it's nice to know that my gut instincts and educated guesses are right on. I'm going to consider the past three hours time well spent then, even though I gained no real new names besides what I received from Allyson. At least now I know with great certainty that the information she provides is solid.

Laniado sounds the nicest, what with its friendly relationship with doulas and midwives as well as large bathtubs. But it's 56 km away in Netanya, and husbands aren't allowed to stay the night. Unless someone from Kirsten and Or's congregation would be nice enough to host Daniel for the typical two nights that my post-birth stay would require for him, Laniado is not a good option since we still have to pay for the natural birthing suite. No point adding a hotel fee on top of that.

Carmel Hospital sounds the second nicest, but it is fairly medicalized. I hear the food is good, and we can get there by a quick ride on the bus. Still, I'm not too keen about the mandatory six-hour-long separation between mother and newborn that's typical of an Israeli hospital birth, and I don't like dealing with paperwork and constant fetal monitoring as well as unnecessary vaginal exams while in labor.

Right now, my options are either Agoola, a birth center about 20km away, with a midwife that's been recommended by two separate sources. Or home birth, with said midwife.  I can't believe I'm seriously considering a home birth, but there are some definite advantages to this option, if all goes well with the birth i.e. no complications. I might miss out on the hospital food (which, like airplane food, I really, really enjoy) afterwards and whatever new knowledge I might gain about medicalized birth in Israel as contrasted with my experience in the U.S.  But I guess I would be so happy with a smooth home birth that missing out on hospital food and firsthand hospital knowledge is a ridiculous trade-off to consider even a trade-off. Should we need medical help during the home birth, Carmel Hospital is close by enough.

Option #3: There is a kibbutz about 20km north of Haifa that a recommended midwife works at... It's within a stone's throw away from the Lebanese border.  I don't know how we would be able to check it out though. I guess, if my impressions towards the midwife I'm meeting tomorrow at Agoola are positive, that will be the end of considering the kibbutz at all.  The remaining question would be whether to give birth at Agoola or at home, and hopefully the midwife can provide some words of wisdom for that decision. I plan to start interviewing for my doula after my birthing location is set.

weaning, prenatal preoccupations, and sukkot

So I think Declan is officially weaned... It's about almost a month since the last time he nursed. When we were checking out the pre-Renaissance artwork displayed in the former Venetian Royal Palace, Declan showed great interest in all the pictures of the breastfeeding baby Jesus. He said "Num-num" (his word for nursing) and repeatedly pointed at Mary's boobs, eventually lifting up his own shirt to point out his nipples.  Usually, with such reminders, he'd be wailing pretty soon for me to nurse him, but at this point, he seems merely to have lots of fond memories of such an activity, with no absolute need for it anymore. He did look hopefully at me last night, after we returned from Sukkot dinner, but when I pointed out books he could read, he shifted his attention without much fuss.

And thank God for that...I had meant to nurse Declan for at least two years, not shy of 21 months. I wonder if I could have gone for a bit longer if I weren't pregnant. As it is though, my body's so sore and messed up right now from pregnancy hormones that it's a really nice break.  Israeli doctors are ridiculously thorough about prenatal tests... The organ ultrasound I took on Sunday was at least half an hour longer than the one given me in Pittsburgh, and they check for not only the vital organs like heart and kidneys, but also details like the corpus callosum.  Everything seems to be in order, and my daughter is currently about 700g in weight, or the 50th percentile compared with most fetuses her age. (Frankly, I find it a bit ridiculous to have such information.) I was hoping that I wouldn't need to go through the glucose test that I did when pregnant with Declan, but the nurse I talked with was pretty adamant. She seemed to think that the only reason for my hesitation is because I don't like the taste of the glucose solution I'd have to drink, given how she constantly reassured me by describing how "great" it tastes. Sigh. Whatever. My main focus right now is to find a birthing place and birthing assistants that I'm comfortable with. I'm a bit torn about two potential places right now. One of them, I'm bussing to this Thursday (hopefully the bus system is working, unlike today with the beginning of Sukkot...there's been a lot of religious-holiday-induced non-working days lately); the other is located in Netanya, a city about 56km south of Haifa. I've heard really good things about it, and love its philosophy, but I wonder if the distance would allow for everything to work out.

A bright memory here (so that I don't feel so down about missing the Great Race in Pittsburgh this year) is the Sukkot dinner last night wherein Kirsten made chili and baked potatoes with all the fixings, Or made salad, Rachel brought cherry pie, and I made garlic bread. Mark and Rachel came up from Tel Aviv, and it was a really good time with friends. I'm glad to have moments like this in a foreign country that I've moved to only a little over a month ago. It's a really a big blessing.

learning to be content in the humdrum life

It's always bemused me that Moses didn't adopt the mantle of leading Israel until he's 80, and that half of his life before then was spent shepherding sheep in the backside of the desert. Sounds...awful. It builds character, I guess. I fear that my faith is not so strong. :(

There's a Cafemom article floating around about "the mommy gene" -- how some women (or even men) were born and grow up with a sense that they are destined to be parents. They're drawn to little kids and babies and play house and are just naturally nurturing. If this article is true, then I'm definitely devoid of such a gene. I never liked to play house; The closest equivalent I can think of is the incorporation of what my brother and I learned in our social studies/history and government classes as well as watching the news into our playtime -- my stuffed animals printed their own currency and drafted Constitutions and peace treaties with my brother's stuffed animals. As for dolls, I've always found them a bit creepy, given my interest in ghost stories and their common theme of doll possessions.

So. Taking care of children, even my own son, often feel like drudgery. Admittedly, I get along well with children, namely because I strive to respect them just as much as I respect adults. I think children appreciate that, and it's something (I've come to realize) that not all adults do unto them.  But I think, just as it is with my adult interactions, I like the company of children--or really, any living thing--in small doses. I suppose it's from the habit of growing up alone; moving every year meant I never hung out regularly with any long-term childhood friends, and books were my constant solace apart from my very shy and introverted brother.  I kind of resent still being affected by the childhood I so want to leave behind but... there it is.  And, as awful as it might sound, staying at home, doing household chores and being constantly loving, patient, and attentive to my son--day in, day out, all by myself with no other mother friends or just really good friends in general for company--feels a little bit like shepherding sheep in the backside of the desert. I suppose I should think on the bright side that it probably won't take 40 years for my son (and daughter, later) to become responsible adults of their own.

I looked up airline tickets to Pittsburgh yesterday, wishing that I could spent most of October there when the weather is most pleasant in Pittsburgh and still A/C-necessary hot in Haifa. I really don't know why I'm so very homesick for Pittsburgh. This didn't happen last year when I was in China. Maybe it's because Pittsburgh was where I spent all of my pregnancy with Declan, and I feel secure and confident in my experience there. Maybe it's a part of the nesting instinct. Who knows. But I often think wistfully of the falling leaves and cool weather there, the many friends that I wish I spent more time with, the fall recipes I could make without wanting to burst into tears deciphering unfamiliar letters... I'm going to try an experiment for this coming month--of imagining what I would be doing in Pittsburgh if I were in fact there at this current time, and then try my best to replicate/make possible whatever activity that might be here in Haifa.

As kind of a prelude to that, I bought a bunch of typical fall produce for a dinner with friends last Thursday. Things like butternut squash, which I've always found a little intimidating to break down. Then, today, with the leftovers of the squash, sweet potatoes, carrots from the lemon-garlic chicken dish I made up, I experimented with making latkes comprising of such root vegetables rather than the usual potatoes. Daniel, Declan, and I ate the resulting latkes with spreadable cheese that tastes kind of sour onion-y. It was a nice blend of tangy and savory -- success! One of Daniel's co-workers might be stopping by later to drop off a batch of tahini oil that she made, so I've saved the remaining batter to fry up for her when she comes.

Little things like this do give me a great deal of satisfaction. To be able to be creative with food and feed my family and friends healthful things.  We've also found, via an Anglo-walk event, a stretch of path called the Louis Promenade (which I've mentioned before) that's a really pleasant route by which to take nightly walks. It's also been a good place to interact with local young families, as Declan would initiate play with other kids around his age that are also walking along the Promenade. Usually that results in Daniel striking up a conversation with the other child(ren)'s parent(s).

Maybe that's how most people stay happy through the humdrum life of the day-to-day. Things like the above to truly appreciate and be thankful for. I don't know what else I'm expecting life to be.  Maybe more people to share it with...? I really don't know.

Declan shrieking in delight at goats eating the bread he offered (in Cortina, Italy)

on food and yom kippur...and a little bit about homesickness

Tonight, I made capellini and we ate it with leftover meat sauce that I had frozen before our Italy trip. This is a nice break from the past two days of PBJ sandwiches, made necessary because our gas stove stopped working. Given that Yom Kippur was to start upon sundown tonight, Daniel was a bit frantic in getting the stove fixed. Otherwise, we would have to eat more sandwiches and other cooking-not-needed sustenance around the apartment for the next two days while all businesses shut down for the Day of Atonement. Having subscribed to several Jewish mothering blogs, I've been inundated with the topic of fasting while pregnant and/or nursing. As interesting as it sounds, this makes me so glad I'm not Jewish and therefore don't have to feel guilty about not fasting.

When we were in Italy, it was literally either pizza or some kind of pasta at every meal. Some of my American friends are extolling the virtues of the Paleo diet right now, and I was mildly amused by their potential horror at how we (and a typical Cortina resident) eat.  I thought I might get tired of eating pizza or tagliatelle or risotto or polenta with funghi... but instead I felt myself getting hooked. When we flew back to Israel, it was around 3am in Tel Aviv and the trains going north to Haifa had stopped running for Shabbot. We stayed at our friend Mark's Tel Aviv apartment instead and hung out for a day with him. Lunch at a nearby park was roast beef sandwich...and ravioli. (I had the sweetest yet savory beet ravioli during a late Italian dinner with the wedding party one night, and I now need to hunt down recipes for how to make homemade ravioli.)  Dinner was mushroom and roasted pepper pizza at a corner cafe.  Next to Chinese food, Italian food may be my favorite cuisine for how simple yet tasty it is. I still have not fulfilled my desire to try osso bucco, but I've eaten so much on the trip, that can wait. Cortina's carb-loaded dishes are usually tempered with porcini or speck/prosciutto or venison. Venice, being on top of the waters, has a lot of seafood. The latter is pricier, and not necessarily as flavorful. Daniel was disdainful of the pizza quality in Venice compared to the ones he had in Cortina, and I only had a few bites of a Venetian specialty -- spaghetti in cuttlefish ink -- before I chalked it up to an interesting meal I'd never order again.

As for our gas situation, the gas company came by this morning and--as our dinner contests--we can now cook hot meals again. According to the company, each gas installment should last six months, so it appears that somebody has been stealing our cooking gas. What an odd and petty thing to commit a crime about, especially when cooking gas doesn't cost that much. Time to buy a lock for the gas box.

As Yom Kippur begins tonight, Daniel, Declan, and I went for an after-dinner walk along the Louis Promenade by Dan Panorama. There were bikers everywhere and young children out in droves. Given Mark's detailing about how there won't be any cars on the streets or any businesses open, I had imagined a very quiet two days--like when the North American Eastern seaboard got its power knocked out in the year 2000-something (when I was still studying at UM), and everybody walked around through the eerily quiet dark streets with flashlights.  So far it's not been like that at all--In fact, we had to shut the bedroom window because of all the sounds the kids are making while playing or biking on our street.  Otherwise, Declan would never go to bed tonight.  Jewish parenting is....really interesting :/ I might elaborate on this topic some other time.

It's been kind of painful going on Facebook and seeing pictures of sweater weather in Pittsburgh right now. I'm actually, for the first time ever in my entire life, homesick for the U.S. Specifically Pittsburgh in the fall. Walking through the falling golden leaves in Frick Park. Wearing a light wrap on top of my summer clothes. Breaking out the crockpot or roasting fall vegetables. And, most of all, hanging out with friends at night over Settlers or new episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Now is the time when I keep wondering why I'm hot/awkward/illiterate and lonely in Haifa instead of in familiar Pittsburgh and close to friends. Am I really that much needed here?

Declan enjoying his first-ever ride on the Carmelit, Israel's one and only subway

finally home

In some ways, I felt more at home in Italy than I did/do in Israel. In the 10-11 days my little family was in Italy, I've started picking up on convenient, daily Italian phrases and could order off the Italian menu with just some guessing stabs a la knowledge of some Romance language roots. Then we fly back and it's once again utter, frustrating incomprehension at Hebrew letters on the signs everywhere.

Still, it's nice to be back in one's own apartment. Tomorrow, Daniel returns to math research and job applications for next year. I with Declan in tow shall unpack, clean the house, go grocery-shopping, and maybe babysit for someone who's moving away from Haifa just when we've met (sad!), and maybe catch the bus to the mall to pick up my finally-repaired laptop. If this very last step is met with success, I plan to organize some vacation pictures while Declan watches VeggieTales split-screen style on said laptop.

It's pretty late now, so I shan't go into details about the trip we just returned from. But I will, later, and perhaps recount things by contrasting Cortina D'Ampezzo with Venice, the two cities we spent time in whilst in Italy--and how the first city totally kicked the second city's ass in awesomeness.

For now, it's back to sweaty, hilly Haifa. And I just remembered I also need to start searching in earnest for a midwife/doula/birth facility in preparation of my daughter's birth.

quel prenatal care

I was initially quite excited to meet the ob-gyn with whom our Israeli health insurance booked an appointment. I remembered looking at the calendar at the start of this month and thinking, ah, about nine days to go before I get an inkling into the prenatal care system of another country. I know that the U.S.'s highly medicalized approach to what I see as a very natural part of the female body is not a desirable form of prenatal and delivery care for me and my child, personally, and I'm curious to see how it is in Israel.

So... in addition to the practices I've seen in China, Taiwan, and now Israel, I am forming a general rule of thumb: the medical practice and low-risk pregnancies just don't mix. Look, I'm not sick, I'm just pregnant. But the medical establishment, especially of the Western persuasion, is all about watching out for the worst-case scenario and preventing that from happening. I am thankful for that, but I'm a very healthy woman who've proved with my first pregnancy and delivery that I'm fairly low-risk, child-bearing wise. So why am I constantly subjected to an ultrasound and a blood draw in addition to other things during every prenatal visit? Why do I have to keep saying no to amniocentesis or testing for Down's Syndrome? I don't plan to abort the child no matter what, so just leave me alone, ok?

It's all the more demoralizing and disappointing because I had a midwife during my pregnancy with Declan (up until week 30, when he suddenly folded up his practice due to family emergency and I started learning firsthand about the hospital approach), and it was so much better. Really. I got one ultrasound and one blood draw. ONCE. During the whole pregnancy, and that's all I needed. The rest of the time, the midwife measured the baby's growth with his hands and I heard the heartbeat with the doppler. So much less intrusive, so much more....reassuring and confidence-building. The medical system makes a pregnant woman really unsure about herself, even scared, so that by the time of delivery, I wouldn't be surprised if it's got them broken in like circus horses. I remembered arguing with three different nurses on three different occasions while I was in active labor with Declan in order for them to desist from their plan to putting a hep-lock in me. They painted scenarios to persuade me that would have cowed me into submission if I weren't a doctor's daughter who's aware of the possibilities of those situations actually happening. And this was at a hospital that's rated among the top 10 in the nation for women (and which I do agree deserves this standing!).

So... sigh. I skipped the improv gathering last-minutedly tonight because I'm just too down to see other people. I started crying as Daniel and I left the ob-gyn office because Daniel said he knows how badly I feel...and that made me really angry to boot because no man should ever claim he understands how a pregnant woman--who's now afraid and unsure about how she's going to deliver safely in the way that she desires and protect her newborn from unnecessary medical intervention--actually feels.

And I still have to scout out hospitals in which to deliver and attend the tours which would most likely be in all Hebrew. Joy. I hate not being able to have a say about what is being done to my body.

Addendum: Just received an email from a friend of one of Daniel's colleagues that I made dinner for last Thursday night. Wow, I'm so touched that Daniel's colleague actually wrote her friend about my apprehensions about birthing in Israel, and that her friend actually got on the ball and supplied me with a whole slew of resources. I feel a lot more hopeful again, and am greatly amused by some of her observations via her own prenatal experience here:

In my experience the prenatal care here is heavy on the testing, light on the actual "care" and overly dramatic about anything outside of the norm.  Generally, at each appointment they do an ultrasound, ask you if you're taking your iron, and send you for whatever tests they like to perform at that time.  We did not do any extra tests except for the weekly sonograms which were mostly to check my cervix and not the baby.  They think you're crazy for turning down a test, but if you say no a couple times they get over it.  Israel has a strange way of thinking about "perfect babies" and is quick to suggest termination for the slightly problem.  Most doctors do not weigh you or check fundal height or anything like that.  If you want to have your weight and blood pressure checked that takes place at the Tipat Chalav clinic which happens to be very close to where you live.  Personally, if you feel in control of your pregnancy and feel like you can stand up for what you do and don't need, just find a doctor that has good hours and a good location. Almost every doctor here will speak some level of English because of the nature of the field. 

a funny mental snapshot i keep giggling over

Today was/is a family friend's birthday, and his wife so very kindly invited us to join the little birthday gathering she organized with two other friends from Tel Aviv plus one of the friend's brother who's visiting from the States.  My little family shared a car ride with Kirsten and Or (the birthday man) to their church in Netanya in the morning. After a potluck lunch (for which I invented a baked lemon-marinated tilapia garnished with sauteed garlic, green onions, and different colored peppers I got from the shuk the day before), we rode the car together with them again to a man-made fishing lake called Dag Bakfar. There, we met up with Mark, Alex (the brother), and Rachel--who is about 34 weeks pregnant, and got to fishing.

We didn't end up catching anything, although we saw other people catch some big ones a couple of times. Someone gave Or a live fish, but he released it back into the lake as he wanted to catch one for himself. Declan spent the afternoon chucking pebbles into the lake as he stood next to me, effectively scaring away any fish that I might hope to catch.  The fishing place closed around 6pm, and we wrapped up the day with a dinner together at this burger place that had some really fantastic burgers. Meat is so much more expensive here in Israel that Daniel and I have been eating mostly vegetables for the meals I make at home, so it was a real splurge to chow down on a thick lamb burger.  I still need to be on a lookout for a birthday present for Or though, and hopefully one for Kirsten as well, as I think she mentioned her birthday (Oct 15?) in passing once during a story about her annual visa renewal process.  Maybe presents from Italy?

Now I'm listening to Jason Mraz on grooveshark, because the burger place played old American pop hits that were a mixture of Daniel's and my favorites and made me nostalgic for music I used to listen to all the time.

But the funniest memory of the day, besides Declan sitting by Or along the lake and waiting together for a fish to bite, besides Declan clinging onto Mark's back during dinnertime and rocking to the music, besides Declan being the shortest little person racing along with three other bigger kids at church this morning, was how during lunchtime, I had offered Declan one last bite of mashed potato. He had just gotten off my lap and was about to run off to search for the 2.5 yo girl that he was holding hands with on and off. I held out the mash-ladened fork out to him. He said, "No!" once. I offered again. He said, "No!" again, this time taking a step towards me while shoving an open palm as if to push my fork away across the space between us. I offered one last time. This time, he suddenly stopped, smiled, and jogged back to stuff in his mouth the content on my fork before he raced off. Kirsten and Or said Declan's starting to act like a real Israeli already. Apparently, people here tend to say no to every question the first one or two times around, and it's important to persist.  Something of a challenge for my live-and-let-live attitude, but I'm learning to be pushier since living in China...and being married to Daniel, who tends to have a more overpowering personality than I naturally do.

Just that, "no"...."no"...and then sudden change in demeanor. What a funny little guy. I hope and pray that my son and I will always have a good relationship with each other.

last rant about being illiterate

I really wish that I had been more studious about learning Hebrew before we came to Israel. I keep saying and thinking this thought that it's getting a bit boring, so this shall be the last time. Now that I'm here, and discovering that the daily circles I interact with (mostly working-class) aren't that keen on English, I've been asking random Anglos who've lived here for a while where I might be able to learn Hebrew, either by getting a tutor (expensive) or signing up for an ulpan class. Sadly, the expensive factor of a private tutor is a bit of a hindrance--Daniel doesn't get paid that much to be a post-doc and we're already stretching our budget by renting out a three-bedroom apartment, and another baby on the way when we have given away or were unable to bring most of our saved baby items. Plus, in Israel, even renters need to pay property tax for the property in which they currently reside. As for the ulpan class, those are mainly reserved for people who're actually making aliyah. I could register or audit a Hebrew course at the Technion, but that doesn't start until winter term, which means I would most likely have to drop out midway through to give birth and care for a newborn plus a two-year-old.

My illiteracy makes grocery shopping, trying to find the library, trying to find books or events provided by the library and/or the city, traveling around by bus, looking up bus routes, finding essential ingredients for recipes... all very overwhelming.  I really hope that, despite this major language barrier, the resourcefulness my dad claims I have a strong reservoir of will in fact assert itself and help me, by the grace of God, to eventually make an okay life here.  For now, I feel very much alone and struggling to stay afloat. It's not as bad as China, because the fresh fruits and vegetables here--the essentials of life, especially while raising children--are abundant here. Yesterday, Declan and I rode the Carmelit (Israel's sole subway system) and found a small produce/fruit store at Paris Square (after much walking around and searching in the noon day heat). Today, I finally made it to the Talplot shuk via bus number 37 and then bus number 3. It reminded me of the traditional markets my grandmother and mother took me along during their weekly grocery shoppings in Taipei and Kaohsiung. A bit chaotic, messy, and loud...just the way I remembered it as a child.

It really is much better shopping for better quality and more affordable produce and fruit at the shuk than at the usual Western-style grocery stores here. Daniel and I invested in a dolly for 50 shekels for future shuk visits. Still, I've been itching to bake so Declan can eat healthier cookies, etc, but I don't know how to decipher between the various differently powders with Hebrew labels or ask for, say, vanilla extract. I don't think my friends back in the States understand this demoralizing climate of cluelessness... One of my Pittsburgh friends suggested, in response to my doubt about how to secure such ingredients, that I make my own extract. Well, yes... except now I need to ask for vanilla bean and vodka instead. In Hebrew. Still clueless, and even more bizarre to the supermarket people.  I'm going to make an ingredient list, google translate it, and copy the info down with my atrocious Hebrew handwriting, then make the best of it at the store next week.

Or rather next next week, when we return from Italy. I'm going there this coming Tuesday for a wedding, and I cannot express how much I'm looking forward to not being alone all day with a child during the weekdays, seeing friends, and feeling cool weather. I vow never to complain about the cold ever again, as it is still really hot where I live. Before flying to Italy, our little family needs to traipse downtown to change our visa status so that we're allowed to return to Israel and my first prenatal checkup in Israel is also coming up.

an extrovert after all

This past weekend has been one of the best couple of days (despite the occasional breakdowns, per usual, of my feeling overwhelmed by trying to navigate the bus company and library websites without understanding Hebrew). I realized, with a spark of surprise, that it's because I got to hang out with friendly people. Not necessarily Americans, but Anglos who've lived all around the world as well so I didn't experience the usual language or cultural barriers.  Friday Shabbat dinner consisted of cooking for two hours, catching an hour-long car ride with our friends Kirsten and Or to the Messianic congregation they attend, and spending the next three hours sharing food, conversation, and play (in Declan's case) with really welcoming people. In Declan's case especially, he had a thrill following a couple of big kids around. I worry sometimes that he doesn't socialize enough with other kids, and he definitely had a good time at Shabbat dinner. The food I made turned out well, despite my using some unfamiliar spices found in the pantry, so that also made me really glad.

Then on Sunday night (yesterday), I ventured to Gan Ha'em around 8pm to meet the improv group that just started in Haifa, as a copy of the one that meets regularly in Tel Aviv. Feeling pregnant and fat and tired, I kind of wanted to stay home and be lonely as usual, but Daniel encouraged me by walking to the meeting place with me. It turned out that the four other people who showed up were waiting for me at the park benches, so it's a good thing I showed up, even if I was 20 minutes late. Improv turned out to be a refreshing challenge, and we stood around and chatted for half an hour more after the two-hour session ended. Everyone came from such diverse backgrounds! This may be the biggest plus to living in Israel, for me: meeting people from all over because of the international emphasis in this small country that's surrounded by enemies. Kind of like why Taiwan's such a mix of foreign influences as well.

The thing is, it wasn't just being in China or Israel that had made me increasingly depressed for the last two years... It was more because as I got pregnant and stopped official work, and then needing to stay home a lot more to care for the baby.... I became more and more estranged from people I usually hang out with, and being cloistered frankly sucks. Moving to four different regions in the world within a year's span didn't help the situation either.

Now that Declan's more and more able to be cared for by not just me, I've had a little more freedom and can make more of an effort to, basically, rejoin human society, I'm trying to put out of my head the worries of needing to go through such a lonely time again when the second baby comes.

a nice friday afternoon

Right now, my son is playing by himself (for about 10 minutes now!) with wooden train tracks and miniature magnetic trains--toys courtesy of the boys in the family that we're currently subletting our Israeli apartment from. He's making little babbling conversation noises and train sounds while he's pushing the pieces around. Most of the time, I seriously regret having a child and making life 1000% harder and more exhausting for myself, but right now...right now I wish I could set up a webcam to capture his playtime for his grandmothers to see, because maybe they would be able to appreciate how almost unbearably cute he is being.

In about two minutes, I need to start making food for Shabbat dinner.  Our friends Kirsten and Or had invited us to the monthly potluck gathering at the Messianic congregation they attend. Because most every place, including the grocery store, closes by sundown Friday and stay closed for all of Saturday, the lines at the grocery store were super long. Additionally, I had not brought enough shekels and needed to take items out.  Additionally on top of that, I had missed seeing the 10 items express sign (written in Hebrew, decipherable by me via the Arabic number 10) until after I'd unloaded all my items and only then registered the dirty look the cashier was casting towards me. It was nice of the man behind me to gesture for me to stay in the line, but I loaded everything back in my cart and got in line behind two giant grocery carts in the other lane. It is, I think, more important for me--who already don't speak much Hebrew and thus require everyone else to satisfy my English needs--to be as courteous as possible and not risk feeding the legend of Ugly Americans.

It was still really nice to go somewhere without having a kid around though. Despite the above mortifications, this grocery trip I had to make during the Shabbat-prep rush was still so much easier than when I go with Declan. A reassuring thought that the reason why life seems so much harder for me now could be because of motherhood, not simply because I've somehow became a really incompetent person.

Oops, times up. I'll hopefully be able to describe the family morning outing to Dado Beach at some later time.

a brief interlude upon the past before I move forward from it forever

So it's official. Finally settled in my mind. A little over a month ago, about the time when I turned 30, I had decided to attempt at repairing as many broken relationships as I can remember. To my (pleasant) surprise, the one person that I thought would never forgive me seemed to have put his grudge against me finally to an end. At least, that's what I interpret the acceptance to my Facebook request and the friendly response to my birthday wish for him to be. To my (very sad) surprise, one other person--who I really don't know why I care as much as I do--did not. J.G. had broken up with me via email after a (disastrous) eight-months dating relationship while he was playing with his Pittsburgh church friends during the summer I was interning for a radio station in Asia.

His reason was that he didn't think our friendship was strong enough as a foundation for our relationship, so he would like us to break up in order to better strengthen our friendship first.  Our hanging-out remained cordially enough after I returned to the States--we even drove to Michigan and back together for two mutual friends' wedding as soon as I returned from Hong Kong (for which he still has not paid me his half of the car rental fee, oh well). For some reason, though, it all went sour. Maybe because I started dating another guy. Maybe because all the unhealthy things we did together during our dating relationship caught up with him and conflicted with his high idea of himself, and he could no longer acknowledge my existence. The latter is most likely the reason, since the last time we really talked, he had said, "It makes me feel bad to see you. Seeing you makes me feel bad."

It was really the last straw for me at that time. After all that he had done, somehow he made it sound like everything bad was all my fault. I distanced myself from then on, and he didn't stop me.

So, yeah, he definitely came to mind when I thought about burying all hatchets on my birthday.  It was not the first time I had reached out since that period of cooling-off, and I had received radio silence when I informed him of my engagement as well as being completely ignored when he sat across from me during a mutual friends' lunch gathering and other people expressed, well, emotions upon the news of my first pregnancy. So I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised to find out that he's decided to cut me from his life forever, if all of his Facebook activity sans any attention to my Facebook request is any indication. I shouldn't have been so surprised except for the factors: (1) it's been more than three years, (2) we'd been friends for far longer than we've been significant others, and (3) he's for all appearances involved finally in a dating relationship with a girl that's clearly more attuned with his personality and culture and who absolutely adores him, so why would he still be blasé about me?

Then I came upon, by serendipity, an internet article about letting friendships go, and it's really clear to me that that's a very specific case applicable to him. So, okay. Farewell, my former friend. I do wish you all the best in your future, and I hope one day you will truly forgive me for all the wrongs, real of imagined, that I did you. And also come to recognize me for who I really am, not some demonic being that pulled you down for a while, as you seem to see me.

first attempt at connection with local civilization

Today is our first experience with Shabbat in the Holy Land. Strangely, it doesn't feel much different from weekends in Paris during the two weeks I was there, aside from the everything shutting down around Friday dusk and all of Saturday here instead of Sunday in Paris. Last night, I fell asleep on the living room couch while waiting for my husband to put our son to bed and woke up around 11:30pm by young-sounding guys and gals yelling while partying outside. I turned off all the lights and went to our bedroom, to discover that our son's sleeping with one leg slung over the side of the bed so that if he were to roll over by a little more degrees, he would have most certainly fell to the hard floor and conked his head. Close call.

Daniel has stumbled upon a Messianic congregation online that appears to be half an hour by foot from our place, so we set out walking to there this morning under the blazing sun. Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves on the top of the famed Bahai Garden. Turns out the map Daniel was relying on required us to walk through the Garden to the bottom of the hill into downtown. Unfortunately, one could only do so via a guided tour through the Garden. Plan change-- we hailed a taxi instead... and discovered that the driver had no idea where he was going or could barely understand what we were trying to convey. He asked for our destination at least four times, and each previous time seemed to remember the information incorrectly. We ended up riding down the hill to downtown and then up the hill to somewhere that he was sure was where we said we wanted to go. It was a very strange experience to be pointed to a place that's obviously not where we said we wanted to go and being refuted over and over again that, yes, in fact, that was the place. I finally said, NO IT'S REALLY NOT. WHAT SHOULD WE PAY YOU TO JUST LEAVE US ALONE? as we got out of the cab and waited for him to leave. The thing is, he had not turned on the cab meter, so he said, "What do you want to pay me for driving you all over the city?"

Like, WHAT.

Anyway, we ended up paying him the price he named, even though I think we were supposed to haggle a bit but I was too disgusted to care by then.  And, 45 minutes later, we found another 100% more competent cab driver to take us to the Messianic congregation after we got a map that shows explicit directions from a hotel we stumbled upon. I am very grateful that our son was pretty calm and quiet through all this traveling, despite the heat and going in and out of his stroller.  We actually made it to service fairly on time (five minutes late).

The service was interesting... I really appreciated being able to worship with other believers. The congregation consists of Hebrew, Russian, and English speakers. So everything was in Hebrew, and Russian and English speakers get earpieces that we can hear instantaneous translations from the professional translators sitting in the back. Kind of like worshiping at the U.N. I'm starting to discern some Hebrew alphabets via the hymns we sang, and I really hope I'll be able to learn a lot more Hebrew while I'm here. I'd been lazy about picking this language up since a lot of people assured us that most Israelis speak English, but I'm discovering that a lot of them don't speak it very well, or don't like to speak it. And 90% of street signs are only in Hebrew, which really drove home to me a feeling of being shut out literacy-wise. I've never felt so disconnected with words, which is usually my one lifeline. I wasn't that intimidated while traveling in Japan, since I've studied Japanese,  simplified characters in China were fairly easy to adapt to, and most European languages are honestly not that daunting. This is an entirely different story, with a completely foreign script.

I don't know if we will stick with going to this congregation. We met some nice people, but that's always the case when going to a new church. Somehow, I'm having a hard time shaking this stale feeling of "here we go again." I must confess that I'm afraid... I'm afraid I'll be as unhappy here as I was in China, that maybe I'm just an unhappy person no matter where I go. So of course nobody will want to be friends with me.

Somehow I feel like I've failed so many times in the past to fit into a new place, to build a life in which I feel truly purposeful. And throwing a tantrum-prone toddler and another impending birth into the mix basically finishes off any shred of optimism and self-confidence left for me.

Well, we'll see what happens. Day by day.