the case of the disappeared ice cream (brand)

Pretty soon after our little family returned to Israel towards the end of last month, Daniel attempted to re-start the Talk.

I'm so sick of the Talk. The Talk of Where to Go after Next Year. My life plans have been in flux ever since college graduation. According to my five-year life plan at that point (in that distant year of antiquity: 2004), I would be currently married to a traditional Cantonese boy I'd been dating for three years by that point, living somewhere in the U.S., and teaching English/literature at an inner city public school. I did not foresee meeting a half-Jewish/half-Irish red-headed boy, getting married to him, moving as if on the run from Pittsburgh to China to Seattle to Taiwan to Israel in less than two years' timespan, and not working professionally but rather squeezing out human beings from my body twice and guarding the home and hearth while trying to keep said human beings alive and--on my more ambitious days--shaping them to be future productive members of society.

The biggest lesson I took from this near-decade of living is to not bother making plans. Is that a healthy attitude? I don't know, and by this point, I don't really care. Still, I guess it's necessary to make some kind of vague gesture towards some sense of direction. And that direction seems to be out of Israel after the next year or so.

Which got me thinking about the things that I would miss here, and one of the biggest things would be this particular ice cream brand that Declan helped me discovered. I used to go nuts for Magnums, at 12 shekels a bar, after my first encounter with this ultra-rich ice cream brand in Paris during the summer of 2005. On one afternoon, however, Declan caught sight of a purple-wrapped ice cream bar and was quite insistent about getting that over a Magnum. It turned out to be two shekels less, and what's more, was freaking delicious. It has a hard chocolate shell, vanilla ice cream of a more watery kind (which I prefer...more thirst-quenching), and a hard milk chocolate core. My instantaneous switching of brand loyalty from that moment on is proof that product quality is more compelling than any marketing tactic.

However. When I returned from Europe this time, and caved to a craving for this specific ice cream, I went to my source as usual--the park across the street from our apartment. And could not find it anywhere. Not at that park. Not at the convenience store one block away from that park. Not at four other ice cream stands in Merkaz HaCarmel, one of the most happening shopping areas in Haifa.

What. Is. Going. On. The sad thing is I don't even know what this ice cream is called. So I can't even request it by name. I could only describe it by how it looks and tastes like the illiterate I am, and met every time with "No, we don't carry that anymore." Anymore! Which means it did exist!

I tried googling it to find an image of this longed-for ice cream, with admittedly vague terms such as "Israeli ice cream" and "purple wrapper" and got a bunch of pictures of gelato and goat-milk yogurt. I tried "Unilever" and "Strauss", which are popular ice cream brands here. And got nothing. Nothing!!

Well, I did find a box of the same brand and similar-style-bars at the supermarket the other day. But it doesn't have a milk chocolate core. It has a bunch of food-coloring-rich funfetti sprinkles. Disgusting.

One thing for me to start missing about Israel already, I guess. Why did the entire country suddenly stop carrying my favorite ice cream bar in all the world during my two-week absence? Israel, why do you like to tease me so?

and i'm back (for now)

Last day of June. Wow. This month flew by. Well, kind of. I got really sick during this month several times, including a bout of most likely food poisoning just a few days after our recent return from the whirlwind conferences in Europe. When I was writhing in a horizontal position wherever that might be in our apartment, with a toddler by my side yanking on my arm and yelling, "Get up, Mommy, pleeeeeease!" and a baby that suddenly wanted to nurse all. the. time. Even when asleep. ...the days seemed a lot longer then.

Still, here we are, and I have some major backlog of events to chronicle. Firstly, a shout-out to Emily for meeting up in Paris on such short notice, and for bringing along her lovely husband as well as the potent cheeses and delicious wine, as well as escorting us around the Luxembourg Park. As well as sharing interesting stories about herself and her husband. It was stupendously nice to better know someone I'd previously only corresponded with via the Internet. And she even gave me a book as a totally unexpected present. How did she know I love books?

So hopefully I'll be able to catch up on things this week, and enliven this blog with more real-time action. After I catch up on all the chores that languished as my body warred with whatever bacterium or virus that was trying to colonize it. We are also moving out of our current apartment for good at the end of July, right before we fly to Taiwan for a mix of business and family visits. The apartment we thought we'll move into after we return to Israel for the next school year just fell through as an option, as its landlord has decided to convert it into two studios in hopes of reeling in more rent money from university students who mostly just need to a place to sleep.

Ah well. Will write more later.

 Back from the intermittent train rides through Europe. 

I love trains rides through Europe. Or train rides, period. 

Looking forward to doing it again someday 

(not too soon, but not too much later) with the family.

virus

Apparently there's something going around in the Middle East, according to Daniel's mom. Whatever it is felt a whole lot like malaria to me. Which is not impossible, since malaria can be caused by eggs of infected mosquitos in Southern China--eggs that can live inside a person for up to 20 years before they hatch and cause havoc. I alternated between uncontrollable shivering and feeling like I would never be warm again ever to wanting to throw myself into the icy waters of Siberia. Declan came back from gan yesterday afternoon, gave me a hug, and pulled away, exclaiming, "Oh! You're hot!"

The next time I get mad at Daniel, I must remember how he took care of me and bore the brunt of Declan's demanding-ness all yesterday. I also appreciated what a mild-mannered baby Petra is, who mostly kicked and coo-ed in bed as I lied dying next to her.

And of course now's the time when I suddenly get three editing gigs, and have two tutoring sessions today (postponed to tomorrow). I managed to complete one of the editing assignment just now. Whew. Load off my mind. Awaiting the two others, which will probably overlap with our trip to Lausanne-Paris-Milan.

During the throes of my agony, I wondered why I even bother to keep one toe dipped in the professional world with petty endeavors like the above. Wouldn't it be enough for me to keep the home clean, the kids taken care of, the meals made, as long as everyone is healthy?

I still wonder, even as I feel a bit better today.

at a loss of resolve

Is it more important to be as highly "qualified" as one could be in order to have the option of accessing as many venues as possible?

Or is it more important to be "on the ground" and gauge the pulse of society and culture in that way?

The first option would mean more time in exile, so to speak. But perhaps with a greater impact later. The "perhaps" is a big concern, because I've seen, time and time again, how friends who went into law or medicine with an intent to advocate for the disenfranchised later turn into corporate representatives and reach for the medical system's acclaims instead. I used to be a lot more judgmental of their evolution, but I see now how easily one's M.O. can change with time, family persuasions, financial concerns, and priorities regarding the future. And who's to say they are not still biding their time until they do what they originally planned to do?

Still, I don't want to end up dying at, say, age 40 and realize that I should have gotten started on my heart's desires a lot sooner.

On the other hand, maybe there are merits to the second option that I am overlooking which would tip the scale irrevocably in its favor.

I feel ambivalent about the choices facing me. It reminds me of when I would patrol the night markets in Taiwan and be so overwhelmed with the possibilities that I end up going home, empty-bellied.

Father God, please give me and my family clarity, wisdom, insight, and guidance.

possibilities, or maybe not

I was a radical Islamist who hated all of you.

The above link is an interview with a former radical Muslim, reflecting upon the role of ideological narratives for the process of radicalization. Really insightful. It also makes me wonder anew, despite my misgivings about the time and viability involved, the worth of studying for a PhD. If worthwhile, I would deepen my undergraduate and graduate focus of post-colonialist perspectives, by narrowing my examination onto the literature produced from post-colonial regions such as the Middle East and Southeastern Asia (Taiwan included). I want to examine how cultural and literary movements shaped and are shaping the concept of national/ethnic identity, and how they could be used for nonviolent yet still effective movements for the present and future for righteous/just civil rights and minority empowerment. Maybe Ireland/Scotland and Poland could be templates for how that has worked out.

Otherwise, I'm interested in becoming an author that deals with these themes. I got this idea from reflecting upon my own grandparents' lives and how they were so personally affected by the practical application of ideologies that even their great-grandkids are still caught up in the aftermath. Their lives are certainly worthy of novels, and it would be inevitable for any research or narration of their stories to examine such topics. And this route might reach a wider receptive audience, since more people spend time reading novels and good fictions than academic papers...

Or maybe I'll remain a stay-at-home mom, and teach my children about such things. No point thinking so far ahead since I'm still having trouble even putting one foot in front of the other on some days. Just things to talk with God about, I guess.

i think i need a mental break before a mental breakdown

I should be....washing the dishes, sweeping and mopping the floor, cleaning the bathrooms again, taking out the trash, attempt at lectio divinia, even nap.... but I feel like, what's the point?

There is a point, I'm sure, especially when my older child leaves crying to the gan in the morning just so I could be more productive elsewhere. And chores must be done, regardless of circumstances.

It's just that I feel devoid of any energy, and yet cannot sleep restfully. Even in my dreams, I am thinking of different ways I can cease to exist.

I think, when I visit Taiwan in late summertime, I will seriously look into whether my national health insurance covers anti-depressants. After wanting to go drug-free for so long, I'm tired of trying to make it without. I'm clearly not. I guess it's time to think about surrendering and joining the legions of mainly women, and mainly American women, who medicate themselves regularly.

I'm ashamed to discover that I secretly ascribe to the stigma attached to that. Maybe this is God's way of telling me to get off my high horse.

Lots of "I"s in this post. I guess I'm pretty self-centered, which makes depression worse.

In other news, I think I'm going to stay away from local/regional news for a while. Reading about all the badly reported rhetorics against Israel gets me down. It's one thing to read about legitimate criticisms, and they need to be publicized for sure (like what the world is the deal with the Prawer Plan?), but I'm tired to needing to sift between agenda and bias. I'm not a rabid Zionist right-wing nut, and I'm tired of being pushed towards that direction just because I desire a more honest level of discourse. Oh yes, clearly I must be delusional and have a high and mighty sense of myself to perceive the situation being as the above.

In the meantime, there will be two nation-wide bomb raid drills tomorrow to ready the citizenry for escalating violence by the Syrian government because Israel had destroyed long-range missiles that Iran was "smuggling" through Syria to terrorists in Lebanon, even as the Assad regime and the rebel forces continue to slaughter and displace their own people by the thousands for two-plus years. But these are details that anti-Israel "human rights activists" can't be bothered to know. Or care about. Onwards with Israeli aggression!

Just sick of it all.

like a bell jar

I feel, a lot of times, as if I am made of glass. And hollow on the inside. I am simultaneously dumb and reverberating violently. 

Days would glide by in which I think, I am finally okay. And then, without warning, they clump together again. Like today, and yesterday, and the day before that. 

By the grace of God, one day, perhaps one day, I can finally look back and be thankful that I did not give up. For now, I am so frustrated at myself for being so irrationally weak.