unrelated notes

In your face, Misrad Hapnim! You refused to acknowledge our parental rights to name our daughter the exact name we deemed for her. You refused by not providing us with one iota of official document that contains her rightful name and assigned her name as "Petra King" instead, no middle name. You and the US Consulate both scorned my statement on the affidavit about her middle and last name ("Her name is not Petra Lilia Spector...You would like her name to be Petra Lilia Spector, but it is not.")

But today Petra's US social security card arrived in the mail. And it says "Petra Lilia Spector".  Mwahahahaha. You'd said that as long as we have one official state document that has her name on it, then we can file for that to be her official name on all other documents.

Thank you, US bureaucracy. Your lack of inter-departmental coordination helped us jump through an Israeli government loophole.

On an unrelated note, I'm pretty sick right now, sinus and energy-wise, because I went for a run under the sun for 1.5 hours on Friday without sunblock or water. And the trail was completely uphill from the lowest point of Haifa (downtown) to one of its highest points (Louis Promenade). If you were to drive a car from one of these points to the other, your ears would pop.

It was a run/practice organized by a fitness club in conjunction with the city of Haifa in preparation for the real event on 17 May. It's kind of like Pittsburgh's StepTrek in the South Side, except you run it, and it's even steeper. There were three trainers that moved everyone along, motivating us by taking pictures and videos of us and so tapping into our vanity of wanting to look fit and happy and not at all done in by the heat and altitude change. I really envied how in shape they were. Their ridiculously lean legs and boundless energy. I was finally so dehydrated (hence, why I'm now sick with a wrecked sinus) that I asked for water from one of them who's carrying a backpack. To hell with my concern about hepatitis or other water-transmittable diseases.

As I thanked the trainer and sipped just a little bit of water from his water bottle (there weren't much water left and I didn't want to leave anybody else high and dry), he said, "You're welcome"--in Chinese! I was so surprised I spat out a little bit of the water in my mouth. (Gah.) It turns out he also speaks fluent Spanish, Portuguese, English and Arabic...along with the usual Hebrew. So the fact that he only knows a few Chinese phrases is still really impressive.

On another unrelated note, Declan starts gan at the Technion tomorrow. To say I am apprehensive about a few concerns is an understatement.

A third unrelated note: I saw a picture of my friend Candi in full Ph.D. graduate attire at the Pitt commencement ceremony, and was struck with admiration for such an amazing woman. It made me nostalgic for our less formed destinies during our M.A. days... and also some disappointment, wistfulness, and uncertainty in myself about the great unlikelihood that such a picture (of me graduating with a full-fledged PhD in English/comparative literature) would ever be realized. I'm not going to dwell on the latter though. I'm just really happy and proud of Candi, and I hope our family will always stay in touch.

Later tonight, Kirsten and Or are coming by with some sloppy Joe and cold potato salad (among my favorite American comfort foods) so I made some Israeli-style salad: chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, cilantro, carrots, kohlrabi, tahini, lemon, sauteed garlic, mustard, salt, pepper, zhatar...  I've never really have a habit of eating salads, but it's with every meal here in Israel whenever one eats out. If everyone eats the salad and enjoys it tonight, I might try making salads part of my culinary habits from now on. It would sure be an easy way to use up all the (excessive) tomatoes and cucumbers our CSA always distribute every week (probably because a typical Israeli customer would consider the amount just enough for a week-long supply of salad).

It's been so hot this week due to the heat wave aka chamsin from the Egyptian and/or African desert. Several forest fires had to be put down. Extra caution must be made for the bonfires of Lag B'Omer. I am afraid of the sun.

Petra also fell off the couch today and I found her face down flat on the (hard, uncarpeted) ground. I had literally just turned around to go get something for Declan from the kitchen, and heard a thud. She cried for a long time, then snoozed for a while after I nursed her. Daniel inspected her after coming home from work and said she looked fine. But I still feel a bit shaky, and guilty, and so sorry that I accidentally hurt her so much today.

a funny thing happened on the way home from gan

It was almost intolerably hot, especially for April and with rainstorms just two days ago. I was worried about Petra's delicate skin, already flushed since yesterday's walk home from Vardiya under the bright sun. I wished I could have held an umbrella over her, but my hands were already occupied with pushing Declan's stroller up the big hill towards Carmeliya.

"Shalom."

I stopped my pushing and turned back to see a middle-aged man wearing a kippa walking up to me while taking out his wallet.

"Shalom...." I wondered if he was going to sell me something.
"May I see your ID please?"
"Sorry, I don't have any ID on me."

The man looked surprised, while my heart was sinking. If this was a con artist, I didn't know how to extricate myself from the situation. If this was a legitimate ID check by a police/immigration officer, I was still in trouble for not having anything on me that proved my identity.

"How come you don't have any ID on you? No passport, nothing?"
"I didn't think to carry any. I was just on my way to Mommy & Me and a brief grocery shopping trip."
"Mommy & Me?"
"Yes, over there." (gesturing towards Hila's house) "Where a group of moms and their children get together to sing some songs."
"Oh...You should always carry some form of ID on you. What's your passport number?"

I thought to myself that, one of these days, I really should memorize my passport number. Meanwhile, the man was joined by another person.

Man #2: "What are you? Filipino?"
"No." (annoyed because why does everyone think I'm a Filipino nanny? Didn't my children look even vaguely similar to me?) "I'm Taiwanese."
"Ah, Taiwan. What is your passport number?"

We basically had the same exchange, with me increasingly defensive at the ludicrous nature of the situation. I was wearing Petra in a sling and fearing that she'd wake up and start fussing while we're still quite far from home, and Declan was arguing with me about how I'd just removed all the skin from his banana and he was greatly displeased. I finally called Daniel on the phone and passed him over to the more outspoken officer.

Declan: "Mama's phone? Man using Mama's phone?"
Me: "That's right, Declan, he's talking with Daddy on Mama's phone."
Man #1: "This is my ID card. You see? I'm an immigration officer. Tell your husband that we're real."
Me: "I know, I'm sorry, it's just that, in the US, people can make cards that are fake."

We waited as Man #2 got increasingly agitated while talking with Daniel on the phone. At one point, he started shouting his own name and ID # and shoved his ID card at my face, insisting that it's real. I just shrugged and smiled apologetically at Man #1. I had already apologized verbally for my husband's suspiciousness.

Eventually, Man #2 got so mad that he handed the phone back to me, told the people on his other phone (he was searching for my information on the immigration mainframe while talking with Daniel) to stop searching, told me that they couldn't find me and just effing bring my ID with me the next time I go out, snapped at his partner to get going, and both of them jaywalked across the street.

When asked for my identification info, Daniel had asked him for his identification info. Later, Daniel took the man's name and ID number and had a Technion administrative search for him in the immigration office. The man really did work for Israel's immigration.

I feel sorry for anybody who inadvertently gets caught up in legal matters with my husband.  Even when they win, they never really win.

please

tell me that this parenting things gets easier. Not 20 years later easier, but maybe in a couple of months?

rules of an israeli playground

Rule #1 - All toys are communal.

Once you bring a toy or bimba (any type of child scooter/car) into the playground and set it out so that it's visible to children, you automatically suspend your ownership of it for the duration of your playground visit. Sure, if your child really wants to play with it, then whichever other child that has taken it up must return it for the time being. Otherwise, do not be surprised to see people freely handling each other's belongings like good little Communists. To me, it is really charming how nobody seems to be afraid of theft. The unspoken rule is that one simply returns the toy to wherever it was last spotted, and the owner usually finds it back there again when it's time to go home.

Rule #2 - "Your child is not your own; s/he is the nation's."

I think this comes from Israel's culture of mandatory military conscription, and not just for the boys, as it is in Taiwan, but both genders must serve in the IDF for a minimum of two years upon 18 years of age. It builds some sort of kinship between unrelated families. As long as there is children, the adults would band together to watch over them. It's too bad I don't speak Hebrew, because usually any mom would get to know the other moms on the playground really well as their children play with each other. Nobody really keeps to themselves...unless you're that one Anglo mom that other Hebrew-speaking moms just smile at and then ignore.

A breakthrough in communication did happen this Thursday though, when I started changing Petra's diaper at the park because, well, she pooped. One of the Jewish grandmothers saw that Petra has a diaper rash, and started yelling, ahem, I mean talking, to me in Hebrew. I asked her to speak English, and she stopped. Then spoke more Hebrew, more slowly and loudly. Surprisingly, it did help (with her gestures) for me to surmise that she's instructing me on how to diaper change more effectively. She ended up forming a group of six or so other grandmothers and nannies, two of which speak decent English, to recommend me various diaper rash cream brands. Each competed to endorse their brand of choice as Petra waited, lying bare-bummed on the park ground. Finally, one of them squeezed out a huge glob of Desitin and smeared it on my hand.

This is why whenever I feel too lonely with the children, I drop by the park across the street.

Rule #3 - There is no such thing as food allergies.

The first few times I found Declan sitting in some corner of the park, munching on things unknown, I almost had a heart attack. Then it progressed to amusement as I see other moms and nannies share their children's snacks without ever asking for permission--something that would make American mothers react the way I did the first time. Now I just make sure to watch Declan as he eats the peanut bamba, cottage cheese, popsicle, ice cream, cookies, apples, etc... that he manages to get a piece of from other caretakers. Once, I didn't get there in time to stop a nanny from spoon-feeding Declan yogurt with the same spoon that she's simultaneously feeding her charge with. It was kind of gross, and I think Declan got kind of sick from it days later. Oh well... live and learn.

I would go on with more rules, such as, say, a rule #4 - Watch out for random piles of dog poop, but Declan is yelling loudly for me to start bedtime rituals and I don't want him to wake up Petra, who is the perfect child about early bedtimes. (Knock on wood.) So, good night.

regarding two major israeli national holidays

So I tried to put Declan in gan (Israeli daycare/preschool) after the Pesach holidays. That lasted for...one day. In the end, besides the factors of the new baby, the large number of children, him being the youngest child, the gannenet's reluctance...the biggest reason why I decided to hold off on gan for a few more months at least is because it looks like it'll take Declan awhile to get used to the new day-to-day schedule, and if we decide to go with this particular gan even after our current apartment lease is up, it would drastically limit our future sublet options. I would far rather find a more permanent gan later on in the fall that I can rest assured would be the place for Declan to form friendships and pick up Hebrew for the rest of our time in Israel. And who knows...maybe, by then, I'll be so used to taking care of the kids all day every day by myself that I would rather both of them continue to stay home with me the whole time. Maybe. A big maybe. Although I do see, currently, the greater value, of Declan's varied routines with me rather than the (already really nice) gan environment in which he would otherwise be immersed right now.

These two weeks are the highlights in Israel's national holidays. National as in non-religious, but having to do with the whole country. The first of the three happened this past Monday, called Yom HaShoah i.e. Holocaust Remembrance Day. An air siren went off at 10am through the entire country, while I had just strapped Declan into his stroller en route to Mommy & Me. Everything and everyone stood still. At the park across the street, all the adults stood up from their beverages and child-minding. The children slowed down and stopped their play to imitate their adults. Old men on the sidewalk stood, looking down at the pavement. Cars halted, and drivers and passengers alike got out to stand by their car doors. In the two minutes that life paused throughout this entire country, and all one hears is the warning blare that would otherwise only be heard during an air attack, I was really struck by the magnitude of the genocide the Jews faced during WWII. Struck in a deep, profound way for the very first time. There is a side to some of the Jewish culture here that I am growing in dislike. For instance, some people really are quite racist here. I don't know if they're more racist than the general American (and Chinese) cultures, but they're certainly more--like everything else--upfront and blatant about it. But, on Yom HaShoah, I see the lasting trauma that the Holocaust impressed upon a people's psyche and I think I can forgive and understand some of the people's reserve towards the Other... from the perspective of one who has been othered for so long and with such consequences.

To be honest, I have mixed feelings about Yom Ha'atzmaut (Independence Day). There are flags everywhere in preparation for the concerts and parades, and on one hand, I am very happy that Israel exists. I believe very strongly in the right to self-determination for persecuted minorities, and even without the Holocaust, the Jewish people truly need a nation of their own. If I were Jewish, I would want that. I would be so tired of the ebb of flow of anti-Semitism that never goes away, and the doubt of ever really being able to set roots in other countries that have historically (so who's to say it wouldn't happen again?) expelled/evicted Jews who had lived there for generations. On the other hand, I'm starting to learn about the Nakba, and about the very real tension between Arab villages and encroaching Jewish settlements that are often illegal. The fact of the matter is, as much as a lot of the media campaign against Israel is unfair and shoddy journalism, Israel is not innocent in this long-standing Middle Eastern conflict. It is placed in a difficult situation, and as a worldly power, has chosen and is choosing in several areas to use unjust means itself for a gambit at survival.

It is very similar, I find, to why Taiwan was under martial law for as long as it did and went through a period called the White Terror. Why, even now, the United States has not paid reparation to African-Americans for slavery, and have military bases everywhere in the world, and undisclosed locations holding terrorist suspects without trial. Why basically every single country that has ever existed has performed unjust acts in favor for itself and against its perceived adversaries in order to stay in power. To hold Israel to a higher standard than the rest of the world's nations seems...really hypocritical. So I plan to celebrate with the best of them here, without justifying away the darker sides of the wonderful reality of this country and how far it has come...and how far it could still go as a truly great nation.

if we had stayed in china

This morning, as I was reading books with Declan, it was obvious that he showed a preference for English books over Chinese ones. It pained me to hear him say: "No Chinese!" or start to dawdle and lose interest when I plowed on with reading in Chinese without doing on-the-spot English translations.

He's really starting to talk, and make conversations...all in English, with an occasional Hebrew word. But very little, if at all, Chinese. It makes me wonder, if we had stayed in China, if now he would be speaking mostly Chinese.

My children being able (and comfortable and willing) to interact fluently in Chinese is important to me. I am afraid this might become an impossible dream.

On the other hand, if we had stayed in China, I definitely would not have been willing to have another child. Even though life would have been a lot easier for me right now without the intense day-to-day struggles of minding a toddler and a newborn, it's hard to imagine never knowing Petra, this particular person that would not have otherwise existed in any other point in time, starting at her conception.

                       "Well, something's lost but something's gained

                       in living every day." - "Both Sides Now," Joni Mitchell

success!

Today, I finally washed the mountain of dishes in the sink that accumulated during the week-long Passover holiday. For most of the week, we had been eating leftovers brought back home from the Seder prepared by Or's grandmother. I tasted gefilte fish for the first time ever, and it reminded me of fish balls I've eaten in Taiwan, with a different consistency. The star of the leftovers was the goulash Or's grandmother made. Beef stew is one of my all-time favorite dishes, and this particular goulash was the best beef stew I have ever tasted. Ever.

I also washed out the secondhand, new-to-me slow cooker and made tonight's dinner with it. Daniel was skeptical due to its extremely low price that it would actually work. As this post's title indicates--it worked! And I'm also immensely pleased by how we obtained it. You see, after Thanksgiving last year at Kirsten and Or's, they lent us their large slow cooker to make turkey stock with the turkey carcass. I discovered how much more convenient it was to use the slow cooker for that kind of thing. Given the kids' demands and my always being tired, there were a couple of times later when I tried to duplicate stock-making with a stove pot--and failed miserably because I forgot about the simmering concoction only to be reminded by the dry acrid smell. Also, there were a few times when I prepped the night's dinner in the morning when I just woke up. And I was so glad to have a ready meal around dinnertime when I was getting too tired to want to cook much. So after I returned their slow cooker to Kirsten and Or, I started thinking that perhaps I should get a slow cooker of my own. If we were staying in Israel for longer than a year.

The thing was that I had had at least three slow cookers in the last two years, but every time I acquired a slow cooker, I have had to move--and to another country with completely different voltage. So I was a bit tired of getting all happy over my newly acquired cooking tool, only to have to give it up again in six months or so. When we learned that we'll be staying in Israel for another year, the slow cooker desire returned. During the beginning of this Passover break, Daniel and I went to the mall and found only one model, selling for 399 shekels. It seemed a fair deal, considering that everything in Israel tends to be a lot more expensive. But it wasn't exactly the model I wanted, so I decided to sleep on it.

When I got home, I remembered yad2.co.il -- one of Israel's online secondhand products website. Kind of like Craigslist and eBay, only completely in Hebrew. I had purchased a night lamp for Petra's nursery via this website, so I decided to hunt for a slow cooker with the help of Google Translate (and a lot of time spent contextualizing the Hebrew term for "slow cooker" via Google searches). There were surprisingly a lot for sale, with two dominant brands. In the end, I narrowed the possibilities to a brand new one being sold in Netanya for 100 shekels, a like-new one in Nesher for 100 shekels, and a like-new one in Ramat Gan for 50 shekels.

Long story short, the sellers in Netanya and Nesher never replied my email requests. The one in Ramat Gan had been my first choice, and a friend in Haifa had suggested that her husband could pick it up during their day-long foray to Tel Aviv, which is about 20 minutes west from Ramat Gan. Her husband ended up not being able to do so, and I basically gave up on all the possibilities since there's a chance I might not return to Israel from visiting my parents in Taiwan this summer anyway.

Still, 50 shekels was a really good deal... And suddenly it was a possibility again when Daniel and I decided, rather last-minutedly, to use the car we'd rented during Passover break to pick up Mark from Tel Aviv. We were heading south to Netanya anyway on Saturday, so what's a few more kilometers south? Mark turned out to be available, and he had an app on his smartphone that served as a GPS--and it showed the guy who's selling the slow cooker (still!) to live just 10 minutes away from where Mark waited for our car.

Done and done, and we exchanged the product and the money. The seller looked like a single guy in his late 20s or early 30s. I assume he tried out the slow cooker once or twice, then decided it was too much bother (maybe?). It looked great, albeit a little smaller than Kirsten and Or's, but big enough to have plenty of leftovers after Daniel, Declan, and I had eaten our fill of the dish I made tonight (carrots, fennel, potatoes, tomatoes - cubed and seasoned with salt, pepper, caraway seed, a dash of soy sauce and sesame oil, and cumin - in chicken broth and with a leftover turkey neck from the Seder placed on top of the whole thing).

Yay for yad2! (Which is pronounced yad-shtein...Yad means "hand" and shtein is Hebrew for "2" or second, in this case.) This is the second time I had used the website, with great satisfaction.

Hopefully this particular slow cooker* beats my track record and doesn't mean I'll have to move again for some reason in the next six months or so.

*I can't believe I wrote such a long post about a 50-shekel slow cooker. Can you tell I'm super excited and proud of how I acquired such a good deal? I like the serendipity of having something that was sitting unappreciated in an apartment near Tel Aviv to now be cooking food on a kitchen counter in Haifa. Because of that, I value it a lot more than a 399-shekel brand new multi-function slow cooker that would otherwise have been purchased from the mall.