Sunday, August 3, 2014

my son's first significant friendship / something tragic

A few days ago, I wrote a Facebook message to the mother of Declan's best friend from gan: "Declan was eager to show Kimi his new shirt today, then he told me after gan with some surprise, 'Kimi wasn't at gan today.' I don't think he's fully grasped the extent of their separation yet."

The previous day, to give her some time to pack and her husband more time at the office before their trip to Germany, my husband and I oversaw a playdate between Declan and their two older children: Kaya, who is six, and Kimi, who is three and in the same gan (daycare) as Declan. Declan and Kaya had a memorable time laying ambushes and swinging around sticks while pretending to be King David. As the playdate ended, Kaya called from the backseat of their dad's car as they drove past us: "Bye, Declan!" and Kimi yelled, "Love you, Declan!" "Love you too!" Declan yelled back.

Every time I went to pick Declan up from gan, he would be in the middle of something with Kimi. When I dressed him in the morning and prepped him to go out the door, Declan would want to hold one toy "to show Kimi."

It's starting to hit me, I think, that we're leaving. I've finally started setting down roots and found genuine community in this country with a strong clannish culture (which seems to be the case of this entire region, actually). And now, as I start to pack definitively, the roots are being ripped out bit by bit. I find myself morose, avoiding people's invitation to hang out because...what's the point? The real kicker is listening to Declan chatter on every now and then about how he's looking forward to Kimi coming back from the latter's family vacation. How they'll play together again when he returns. When my husband and I tried to prepare him for the transition, Declan said, "I will make friends at gan in Taiwan. Then I can play with Kimi in Taiwan, and Kimi in Haifa!" He tells me he likes his gan now, even though not everyone is his friend there.

Declan with his best friend in Israel. 
They have a fascination with action figures...

I wish we can stay. I have no idea what living in Hsinchu is going to be like, or if I'll actually make friends there without the typical local regard of me as someone slightly (or a lot) freakish. At least here I'm not expected to fit in. Tired.

And I hope this operation officially ends by the time we leave.

Monday, July 28, 2014

nothing spectacular but kind of nice

Writing the scales... because I don't feel particularly drawn to writing, but I should make this a daily discipline. I guess the same goes for running, but this is the second day my morning run window of time is closing because I either wake up too late (6:20am instead of 6am or 5:30am as planned) or squander the first 20 minutes or so cruising FB. Priorities, priorities.

Yesterday was rather un-momentous. I seemed to have caught a stomach bug of some sort and had, shall we say, extreme gastric distress the whole day. Missed a going-away party in Isifiya and spent most of the day lying in bed, alternating between curled up in pain at the twisting of my stomach and reading Candace Bushnell novels on digital loan from the Vancouver Public Library. This little fact is about as embarrassing/odd as my fascination with Britney Spears music videos: I find Bushnell to be a really enthralling writer. Sure, her characters tend to be on the side of insipid, but their relationship dynamics is so cuttingly realistic. I've read comparisons between Bushnell's writings and that of Jane Austen. In terms of social satire, I can see the parallel. Now anybody with a sharp or literary mind reading this have just lost all respect for me, I presume.

Because one of the mothers I hang out with in Haifa is heading to Germany on Tuesday for a vacation (and I'll be gone by the time she returns), I chose not to beg off a dinner gathering at a local Asian fusion restaurant. Four of us showed up: Two Germans, one Israeli, and one Taiwanese/American (moi). We chatted over our food for about two and half hours. I'm really going to miss this small mothering community that I finally have and which I will be leaving behind in three weeks.  I really have no idea or expectation on the people I might befriend back "home".

Taiwan no longer feels like home. Israel does. Oh well. Such is life that whenever I start to feel remotely comfortable, then it's time to move on. Again.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

reflections, on israel

Gulf War 1991 - I remember classmates gathered around me on the playground, and me relaying everything I've overheard the adults saying about this outbreak of violence between nations in a region called the Middle East. About the fear that this could be the start of another world war. I remember being thrilled that my class crush at the time (we were in third grade) came over to listen with quiet attention as well. A few months later, I immigrated to the US.

Oslo Accords 1993 - I remember walking into my fifth grade class that morning to find a TV set airing live footage of Rabin, Arafat, and Clinton shaking hands in front of the White House. Our teacher was telling us what a big deal this was, and I wondered why it was in fact such a big deal and why everyone seemed so happy. I noted the applause and smiles and figured it was a good thing. Then we did fifth grade stuff and never talked about it again that year.

Assassination of Yitzhak Rabin 1995 - I remember sitting in the crowded and noisy choir room, waiting for the obligatory Channel One news to finish airing before our conductor did his usual belittling act of shaming us middle school choir members into behaving more like professional musicians. Most of my classmates were communicating with each other through American Sign Language, or laughing and chatting loudly... To be honest, I don't remember if everyone stopped talking when the footage of Rabin's assassination played. I just remember, personally, seeing the blood-stained papers that carried the speech he was about to give and being stunned to a quiet roaring in my ear.

Second Intifada 2000-2005 - I remember hearing about bus bombings, restaurant bombings, night club bombings. But I was also trying to fulfill my college expectations and being crushed daily, so actually during my college years, when I expected to be the most politically active, I wasn't. Unless you count my foray into US prison reform, but I mostly just made friends with prisoners and not much else. I do remember seeing demonstrations on the Michigan U with placards that accused Israel of stealing Palestinian resources. That's when I started reading Edward Said.

Unilateral Israeli withdrawal from Gaza 2005 - Having recently arrived to a new US city (Pittsburgh) after working for a year in Taiwan at my first real job after finishing university, finally completely ending a three-year-long relationship, and touring Paris while fulfilling my promise to visit my closest cousin there... I was staying at my ex-boyfriend's apartment while looking for an apartment of my own. I remember picking up the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette one morning to see Gaza as one of the headlines. Reading through the news article, I had hope for land for peace.

Second Lebanon War 2006 - I remember sitting in my Oregonian neighbor's living room and watching CNN on their TV while I was house-sitting and dog-sitting for them the summer before I return to Pittsburgh and start graduate school. I called up my Jewish cousin (the same one I visited in Paris) and asking some questions on Israel's "disproportionate responses". She shared with me several sources that pointed out the unique practices of the IDF which no other military in the world exercises. It was the start of my disillusionment with all media.

2010 - I don't remember anything noteworthy about Israel...except that I visited it for the first time in my life. My parents' only input when we talked on the phone was how dangerous it was. I returned to Pittsburgh and told my boyfriend (now my husband) how I became open to the possibility of having a child during the trip. (BOOM -> our son)

2012 - My husband, our one-year-old son, and I (five months pregnant with our daughter) moved to Israel. Two months later, Hamas rockets picked up in frequency towards the south and Operation Pillar of Defense began. We checked the news obsessively. My parents called daily to persuade me to get on the next flight out. I spent a ridiculous amount of time arguing online with strangers. I spent the mornings chatting with southern citizens who've came north to wait out the constant sirens; they're easy to spot as they're the only moms beside me who tend to be by themselves at the parks as their children played.

2014 - Again rockets from Hamas and the ongoing Operation Protective Edge. My family's reaction to it very different than two years ago. We have more friends here now, and personally know soldiers who are fighting as well as Israeli Arab friends who either support or hate the IDF. Didn't really hear from my parents aside from some internet jokes sent by my mom and some Confucius sayings from my dad. I unfriended about 300 people on FB--not necessarily for the offense of too much stupid noise over all the shit that went down and are still going on; mainly because it made me realize how many people with whom I've only the scantiest connection. If someone you consider to be a friend doesn't even care or remember you when you're in the middle of a war, it is safe to say they're not really a friend at all. So that helps me to trim back closer to the ideal scientific number of 150 people who I can deeply support as a friend myself.

So this is my personal history/connection with the Middle East, and specifically Israel. It's terrible that for the most part, the memory lane is marked with war. It reminds me of Simeon, a man who prayed all his life "for the consolation of Israel" (Luke 2:25). When Jesus was being dedicated at the Temple, the latter was already a graying old man and he prayed as he saw Jesus: "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

It is with this same longing that I pray daily, that one day--before I die--I might be able to see Palestinian Arabs and Israelis living in the same region as equals without rancor.

Monday, July 21, 2014

eating (or not) my emotions

What is the ultimate comfort food for me? A piping hot bowl of Asian ramen.

I have to make a distinction between Asian (namely Taiwanese, Japanese, or Korean) ramen vs. Western or Israeli. The former is an addictive cocktail of dried vegetables, real oil, and MSG while the latter is just not even worth chewing. A lot of my American friends don't understand the warmth and childlike joy I have in the prospect of a savory slurp. If you don't get it, it can't be explained.

So, very thankfully, the student I tutor for English with incredible thoughtfulness brought back several packs of Shin ramen from Korea. She had been away for about a month, visiting family, and shares my pain of having no way of buying real ramen here. And I've been trying to make them last, but we have a war right now, and seriously I try my best not to eat a pack a day. But sometimes knowing that I'll get to have 20 minutes of not thinking about the dead and dying, immediate friends being called up, immediate friends with children and pregnant wives--knowing I'll get to take a break from real life and just enjoy a bowl of noodles like all the times during typhoon blackouts as a child, helps.

On July 15, I fasted in solidarity with the Muslims and Jews who were fasting for notable days in their religion but who're dedicating their fast towards peace and breaking bread together at sundown. It was the first, or perhaps only the second, time that I actually really stuck by a fast from the night before to sundown the next day without, say, swigging just a little bit of juice at least. As I counted down the hours to when I got to eat, it really hit me how everyone needs to hunger for peace the way I hungered for food. How many other people thought about this as we drew close to the end of the fast? To long for that something to fill us with strength again, fill our hollowness. Am I just paying lip service when I say I want peace too? Does wanting--longing for peace amount to real attainment?

Abba God, what are You doing right now?

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

practicing scales

I recently read an interview with David Sedaris in which he mentioned that he would habitually, every day, write about one memorable thing from the day before. He described it as akin to a pianist playing scales. I really liked the thought of that. As an aspiring writer, I've always been told that the most fundamental thing to do is just to write. Write a lot, and frequently. That's difficult to do with small children around, a dearth of ready-to-go subjects, as well as, oh, my own lack of self-discipline.

But Sedaris' idea of this writerly habit is appealing because it's a small but purposeful thing. And even if on some days, I might end up just describing an amazing bowl of ramen I inhaled the day before, it's at least as meaningful as practicing the scales. So let me try to do this.

What was the most memorable thing that happened to me yesterday? Going for a more-than-3K-but-less-than-4K-probably run after almost a full month of hiatus. I almost didn't do it because of a missed connection with an usual running partner, and also I started feeling tired and headache-y from the hours of internet news reading and crying over the deaths of the three Israeli teenagers. Despite the long absence from running, and the definite increased amount of fat jiggling on my arms and legs as I ran, I felt really strong, totally unfazed by the hilly terrain. It cleared my head. The entire back of my Jerusalem Marathon jersey got soaked, causing it to stick to my skin, and sweat beads rolled from my hairline down the sides of my head. Along with these droplets, out of my body, were the frustrations and sadness and fear I had been feeling all day for the people of this region, both Jews and Arabs.

It may be a good thing we're leaving this country next month, and I don't know how the rising tensions and accompanying actions are going to affect my plans to visit parts of Judea/Samaria aka the West Bank a few weeks from now. I am incapable of staying zen over the very real possibility that everything might at any minute, in very real terms, explode into all-out violence. Not so much frantic over my own safety, but the rising body counts of complete innocents and the ugly shouts for more hatred and condemnation... these are already more than enough.

Friday, June 6, 2014

brief respite

After one week of much intense stress, mental (and sometimes literal) hand-wringing, self-condemnation and belittling, with actual work in one and two hour long spurts, I just sent off my first Chinese to English translation of a religious text written in the 19th century. There is plenty more where that comes from in terms of this massive translation job I agreed to take on, but for now, I will celebrate especially as the Sabbath is soon to begin.

Hopefully the professor I'm working for likes it.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

return from amsterdam

In this past week, I traveled by taxi->train->plane->plane->train->tram to Amsterdam, hung out with my goddaughter and her family (who I haven't seen since three years ago in Pittsburgh, PA), and did the whole travel modes in reverse order back to Haifa. Got home with Petra around 2:30am, Israel time. Collapsed on the bed. Still trying to get my sleeping cycle normalized. Worth it.

I will write more about Turkish Airlines, the airbnb the Husband rented for me, the discovery of our current relationship dynamic and how I want it to change, the relationship dynamic between me and each member of my goddaughter's family, and about Amsterdam/Europe itself.

It feels like there's a ton of things I need to catch up on -- Translate some Chinese literary works for a local professor, meet up with the student I'm tutoring in English, review and meet up with the teacher who's tutoring me in Hebrew, say good-bye/hang out one last time with one of the moms I've formed a much appreciated friendship with this year (she's leaving in a week for New Zealand *sob*), organize my Amsterdam photos and dropbox them to share with my goddaughter's parents who are waiting, clean the apartment, grocery shop and prep food (once our stove finally has cooking gas again--we ran out right before my trip and the Husband and Son ate...I don't know what while I was gone), and start to pack to relocate to our next country-to-live. Because the Husband got a permanent job offer in Taiwan and it starts sometime in September.

These are the must-dos. There are other smaller would-be-nice-to-dos, no doubt.

The Hemingway-esque synopsis of the trip: Amsterdam was a lovely, lovely city to see. A lot of it reminded me of Seattle, but about a thousand times nicer in a hundred ways.

Happy cows actually come from Holland...or specifically Edam, 
judging from the rolling green pastures and baby lambs, goats, and cows 
following their families around. For the record, Petra started waving at 
the cows first, and I wanted to encourage her friendly ways with animals.


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