Purim, with a side of toast

Suddenly, the month of Smarch crept upon us. Here's my latest trouble-making turn, this time for the Times of Israel, telling of an experience I had with a disgraced politician. Upon posting it, I saw the ugly side of quite a few people I used to otherwise deem as fairly decent. Plus ca change :)

This week, I've taken a turn for the healthy, I'm also preparing for a trip back to the Mother country (Remember that country I was born in, but which I no longer deem home? Yeah, that one).

I ride the 2 miles into work and back every day - that's 4 miles! - am eating lovely massive salads for lunch (most days...) and the biscuit drought on my floor is definitely helping.

Talking of the office, the other night was the office's Purim party. Purim (the festival retelling the story of Queen Esther from the bible) is one of my favourite holidays ever (the other is Chanuka - doughnuts!) because it's a custom to dress up. It's the one time of year that I get to coat myself in glitter, or blood, or any available shiny or gooey substance of my choosing and dress up however I damn well please without fear of society shunning me.

It's a fun occasion back in Blighty - a few years ago during my teacher days, I dressed up in the school's uniform.

Miss Fliss gets OLD SKOOL

 Craziness ensued. I got shouted at by members of staff for being in the staff room; confused (and slightly drooly) looks from some of my older pupils; almost got pulled over when driving home (trying to explain that one to the police was awkward - 'no, it's a fancy dress costume...yes, fancy dress during the day...I'm a teacher, I promise!') and then went home to have a further confusing conversation with the builders at my parents' house, who couldn't understand what sort of a mother would let a school-age child live away from home, drive and wear bright red lipstick to said school.

Here are a selection of my other costume choices for Purim:

Courtney Love, many, many moons ago:

I committed to the role by smiling like a smackhead in a public setting

Another school one, the year after the 'school uniform' confusion: I dressed as a more generic, less provocative leopard (Hi Mel!)

'Raow'. That is all. 

And, the same year, with not quite la piece de resistance but pretty awesome nonetheless, I was Superwoman: 

It felt right.

And so this year, with the office party's costume competition (first prize: an electric bike), I decided to outdo myself, going as the bloodied Bride from Kill Bill.

My first costume choice was to be Gaymy Winehouse (don't even ask), and smother myself with glitter. Either way, I didn't win, but a great time was had by all. 

I would say that Purim here is the equivalent of Christmas back in England - it's a a kind of festive atmosphere where people get a bit silly and offices celebrate with lots and lots of free alcohol. One of the commandments of the festival is to get so drunk that, when you hear the megilla you can't distinguish between the hero, Mordechai and the villain, Haman (although surely that defeats the point, and you should really know who is who in the story? I digress). 

But anyhoo. What gwans at the office party, stays at the office party. And even if that includes crazy drag queens, pole dancers, unfair costume competitions (YELLOW #$@^&*% JUMPSUIT???) and potentially a snake dance at the end (it was rumoured to have happened, but alas, we will never know), so it shall be. 

On to more pressing matters.

In 5 days - that's 5 sleeps - I will be going back to London for the second time since my aliya for a very special occasion - my baby bro is finally getting married!

It's been an 18 month engagement, which seems to have gone both quickly and slowly. I haven't been that involved in much, mostly due to preparing for and making aliya (obviously). Consequently, I hadn't really thought about the steps which my bro and his fiancée (soon to be wife!) will be taking in under a week, and how it sort of heralds the true, marked beginning of adulthood.

Obviously, I'm an adult myself - I made aliya (again, not exactly news to you, is it?) alone, in the middle of a war, gave away one of the only things I ever loved with all of my heart, a month before that losing another, managed to get the various strands of my life together just in the nick of time before emigrating and doing it all over again 5 months later moving to a new city, with a new job and surroundings.

But my 'baby' brother - we're actually pretty close in age. We even ended up in university in the same school year. We hung around with the same groups of friends, went out together and had experiences that we will still never, ever disclose to our mum.

I would still kill using only my bare hands absolutely anyone who would even dare to harm him, although nowadays he's bigger than me and I'm pretty certain both he (and his intended, come to think of it) can aptly (only 'aptly') manage the job.

People used to think we were twins - as the only tall, blue eyed members of our family. This is my favourite picture of us, where we're half-drunk at an event I'd organised and pulling the stupidest, cheesiest grins because neither of us knows how to smile completely naturally at a camera.

With being so far away from my family, it hadn't really occurred to me that the wedding would actually creep up as it has done. And so this blog post has derailed into a toast, of sorts, to my darling brother.

So here it is, Pol- a toast to you: I know it'll be too difficult to tell you on the day, or before, or even after (such are the strictures on us, with my flight and the preparation for the wedding). I almost wish this was someone else's wedding so we could hang out and catch up a bit, but, as you know, you'll be a bit busy. And as a chick, and a bridesmaid I'll be right there, a little further away than I would like, on the other side prepping your misses-to-be.

My amazing, strong, mature (sometimes) and dare I say it - clever (EDIT - 'supremely intelligent', on your own admission) - little bro - I am so proud of you, and everything you have become.

I don't think we thought you'd ever get there, because let's face it - you were bloody lazy and not the most natural of students (think back to the twattish, but pointed, words of Mr Luca), but you really surprised us and proved us wrong in the biggest, bestest way possible.

I know that especially lately you've had my back, despite being 1000-odd miles away. And, if you were ever stupid enough to get into those sorts of situations, you know I'd irrevocably have yours too.

Talking of which. if you were to ever mess around with my 'Legend of Zelda' SNES file, all of the above is null and void.

You're one of the only people who understands the difference between coke and lemonade, celery juice; a psychopath named Mugetsu and some blokes called Sion, Kou and Volt; that sometimes you just have to 'have a thuck! have a biiig thuck!'; that 'special stuff' is only for Local People; that I don't need a hand, I need a FACE and that we should be moving forward, not backward; upward, not forward; and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom!

We're very happy that you're happy, Pol, and doing so well. You've never had it the easiest, but you've shaped your lot into something truly splendid, and the stuff you try in vain to explain sounds really impressive and important.

I don't think I've ever been prouder of you than I am right now, and that's really saying something - I once saw you wolf down something like 20 slices in a Pizza Hut Friday session.

So here's to you, little bro. See you soon. 

At last...!

I've now been in Tel Aviv for a month. I really never thought I could be this happy...ever. Despite all of the awful things that have been happening in Israel and around the world since I initially began drafting this post, things are pretty. Frickin'. Sweet.

Let us kick off with exciting things: here are the latest batch of my articles for theisraelidaily.com: A tongue in cheek response that the writers have gone into hiding, as satire is dangerous after 'Charlie Hebdo'; How all of the shit happening is most likely G-d messing with us; the sudden resurgence of Al-Qaeda, a la Eminem; How Saudi Arabia is secretly gay and trying to rid itself of women and how, following Eminem's shock (FAKE) announcement that he will be converting to Judaism, how Kim Kartrashian will be following suit. Not bad, eh?

Life in Tel Aviv is pretty frickin' awesome - I'm out and about a lot, there's always stuff to do and people to see.My job is great - I work in a really fun, young company, everyone is really lovely and there are all the free biscuits a girl could dream of (ok, so mostly they don't filter down to my floor, but lately I have been going on biscuit hunts on other floors, so I've had an excellent variety to sample). I feel much more in my element and comfortable in TLV, not to say that I don't miss Jerusalem because I do, in a weird way. I'm back there at least once a week anyway, so it's like I'm getting the best of both worlds.

And stuff is only going to get more exciting - on Sunday, I move into my own place with Deborah, located on one of the most exciting streets in the world - Dizengoff. It is a street that has been intertwined with my every experience of Israel in the past 10 years. To actually move there on my own terms and with someone I'm comfortable with, seems almost symbolic, like everything is coming full circle (FINALLY).

And and and - I'm scouting around for a new ulpan to go, in the evenings near where I work. This means I can continue developing the Hebrew I have already acquired, and one day, with practise I may even be something approaching fluent.

You see, the issue of actually practising Hebrew speaking is a bit of a touchy subject with Anglos (the ironically funny name given to native English speakers; ironic because we are not descended from the Anglo-Saxons, who had little to no Jewish blood in them. While the Anglo-Saxons were ravaging Britain, the 'Anglos' ancestors would have been in Jerusalem, schlepping about, kvetching, balaganing and such like). Whenever an Anglo, of any level of Hebrew proficiency, attempts to go native and speak their adopted language, their attempts are mostly futile.

For Israelis, detecting an accent means one of several things -
1. The Anglo's accent is sexy. Or funny. Or both. In any case, the Anglo must be told this immediately and repeatedly.
2. The Anglo can't speak Hebrew for shit, and the Israeli tries to 'help them out' by switching to English.
3. Suddenly, the Israeli has a great opportunity to practise their English with a native English speaker (because language lessons are expensive).
4. The Anglo is fresh meat and this is the Israeli's chance to befriend them/date them/continue the conversation for as long as possible for any number of other weird reasons (and believe me, some of these reasons don't get much weirder...).

...and each of these occur towards me frequently. It's amazing I even bother still trying sometimes...but I must. And I do. I did not go through that entire ulpan just to not speak the Hebrew I picked up. Damn straight.

I think this may be my most boring blog post yet. For once in my life, I have nothing much to report - everything is great, I'm happy, I feel fulfilled and like I have some potential, a real direction and that everything is as it should be.

For the first time in quite a while, there is no drama anywhere in my surrounding environs (THANK GD. FINALLY!!!), and I'm going to settle in one place for a very. Long. Time. No 'ifs' or 'buts' or knowing that I'll be upping and leaving 'soon', because I've already done it - first to Israel, then to Tel Aviv.

At long last - I have finally become that boring person I've always wanted to be - content, settled in one place and with nothing much to say... and exhale...

For now, anyway. ;)

Cultural clashes - London and Tel Aviv

Dear readers, I am pleased to announce that one of my aliya goals is now complete -

I write from my bed in Tel Aviv, having had an accidental 2 hour nap post-first day of my new job in Tel Aviv. Yes, you read correctly - I am living (!!) and working in Tel Aviv, as of a few days ago.

I am the happiest person in the world right now - thank G-d, a lot of amazing stuff has happened in the past few weeks since my last post, that has made my life in ulpan seem like a bizarre and distant cheese-dreamish memory. It's almost like it never really happened.

The last week or so of my stay in ulpan was actually rather great - I had the whole place to myself, and despite having some awful combination of laryngitis and bronchitis (the type of combo which of course only I could ever get), and having to go to the emergency doctor in the middle of the night, I had a great time. I hung out with the shomrim and the cats, climbed up on the roof and did some more exploring.

I ended up leaving a few of my things - the stuff I didn't put in Oranit - in a cupboard in one of the rooms in ulpan, somewhat naively. When I returned, I saw that a strange combination of items had been stolen as the door wasn't locked - most importantly, the thieving bastard had nicked my kettle and my hair straightners!! Such a combination is of course devastating to a Jewish Brit, but unfortunately, it seemd to be the case that my love of tea and straightened hair was my downfall. Never mind.

So, decaffineated and messy of hair, I returned from my trip to London.

It was very nice to go back and see my family and friends - even if I didn't get around to seeing everyone, or not even as much as I would have liked to. Little Louis is now a mahusive version of when I last saw him, with his enthusiasm and bounciness undiminshed. He almost knocked me over when I got through the door.

Unfortunately, I also was told that Dylan, my other doggie who was left alone after Benjy's sudden death in the summer, is (in the words of my mother), 'not very well'. In 'in your face Israeli' translation, it means that he is slowly - but naturally - dying. It wasn't the nicest thing to come home to - both of my babies, Benjy and now Dilly - who I raised from puppies - will have died within a year of each other, one suddenly, unpredictably and horrifically, and the other slowly (but apparently not painfully, so thank G-d for small mercies) and gradually. It's a horrible thought to think that the next time I see him, when I return for a few days for my brother's wedding, he will be either a diminished version of my beautiful and proud little boy, or potentially not there to greet me. but, that is the price I have to pay for my life choice.

It was very strange being back - I had obviously not expected life to stand still sans moi, but I also didn't expect my return to reflect how much I had changed in such a short space of time. It has become apparent that I have Israelified, in the (slightly bastardised) words of my mother. I hadn't realised how quiet and calm stuff in England is, and the shock of suddenly it being Christmas, and cold (it reached -8 degrees C one night I was there), and everything being in English, and the types of discussion going on around - the weather; inevitably, forthcoming weddings; Christmas TV (of which I watched none); some headline news about late trains - was quite a shock to the system, and different to the stuff of everyday Israelis, which is more along the topics of (to put it in a condensed manner) - when will there be another war; from which direction and who; the respective merits and conditions of living in Jerusalem,, Tel Aviv, the North and South (these last two points are inextricably linked); cultural clashes and segmentation amongst the olim (immigrant), religious and secular communities and much, much more.

Being back at home with my parents and siblings, and going to all of the places I used to when I was back in England made me realise how different and new my life is in Israel. I am thrilled that I live in one of the most insane, by turns frustrating, wondrous and beautiful countries in the world, where I am (FINALLY) able to communicate with people from all over the world in one common unifying (resurrected) language, which is concurrently highly logical and illogical; that I've achieved something that most people only dream of, and which doesn't usually go beyond a mere dream - I've emigrated and shaped my life to almost exactly how I wanted it to be - it is by no means perfect, but it's made me feel content.

And therefore, as great as it was to see people, I realise the sheer extent of all the stuff I needed to do to set up the next leg of my adventure, making the decision to return two days early, which turned out to be a rather good move.

Moving from one city to another in Israel is unlike anywhere else. It's not a case of get up and go; more of you need to move every aspect of your life - bank, medical centre, formal re-registration of your address, bus pass etc - to your new city, which is often only an hour or so away. Event though I haven't yet done this, the extra two days gave me time to get my stuff from Jerusalem and Oranit and schlep it to my new place in Tel Aviv.

I hired a car for this purpose, which was rather a strange experience as I'd become confused about driving on English roads during my London trip. On my first drive out after six months in my lovely little car, I had to really concentrate on which side of the road I stuck to, and how roundabouts worked (because, if you think about it, it actually makes far more sense to go around it anti-clockwise, as in the rest of the world).

And so, driving along from Jerusalem to Oranit to Tel Aviv on the right hand side of the road, on the way to my new life in Tel Aviv, Lana Del Rey blaring from the radio, I felt pretty damn chuffed with my lot (and the 700-odd tea bags I schlepped back from Tesco because, however Israeli I become, I will always need real, hard-core English tea).

Even if this elatedness (is that a word?) is only a temporary thing and eventually subsides into every day contentment and/or I eventually take it for granted, I know for certain that there are two moments of this past year that will forever remain etched into my conscious mind as two of the happiest (with please G-d more to come) - the day I finally made it back to Israel, and the day I finally set up shop in Tel Aviv.

I was also really excited to start work today - where I timed my first day to a 'First Sunday' company party (complete with wine and decadent food treats) and a free company umbrella. It's a 15 minute commute from door to door, my boss is awesome and the company is really young, friendly and fun.

I've not always made the best choices in life, or even so far on this journey (read: that whole ridiculous 'relationship' episode), but every so often, even in the depths of a massive oncoming rain and snow storm (expected this week in Israel), things seem to have a way of evening out.

Happy new year to you all, from one of the best cities in the world.

The End: A fork burial and a birthday

And just like that - it was all over.

The last 5 months of my life - which, if I'm honest, always seemed like it would never come to an end - have been filled with everything and anything, from the wonderful, to the unpredictable, to the downright crazy.

Talking of which, let us continue a hallowed tradition of first discussing the cats.

Last week, I found myself sitting arse-down in the mud outside the kitchen area. I was digging a grave using a fork while my friend looked on, cradling a dead kitten. If that doesn't signal the end of ulpan or encompass the transformation I have undergone, then I don't know what does.

This is a different dead kitten, by the way, to the one I discussed last post- Scruffy (BDE). This week's dead kitten was one of Black and White Mummy's 4, one of the ones I called 'the twins', as they looked so alike. The other twin has since also died.

I'd noticed that she was semi-abandoned and having difficulty breathing on Friday night. Much like Scruffy, she wasn't eating. Unlike Scruffy, the kitten had a support network around her, and was being kept warm by her siblings and Mummy.

The next day however, early in the morning, I counted up Mummy and one kitten, two kittens, three... but couldn't see the other, ill one. I scanned around a bit more and eventually saw it much in the same place we'd left it only 12 hours before.

It couldn't move. Mummy had clearly left it to die, and moved the others away (yet more fascinating cat psychology I've learned), so I grabbed it and took it to my room, trying to keep it warm.

To put a very sad and distressing story short, the little kitten - one of whom I'd helped raised and fed ever since they were born - sat with me for about 20 minutes, before dying in my arms.

Her little nose went white; her eyes, glassy. So along came Sarah and we set to finding a way to give the kitten a good burial.

I had to keep double checking with her that the kitten was in fact dead. Despite seeing it happen literally infront of me, I found it very hard to believe it.

The only thing we could find (despite searching far and wide) to dig with was an abandoned fork. So Sarah sat cradling the dead kitten, while I channelled my inner dog and started going hell-for-leather with the fork.

After a while, I'd managed to create a large enough hole to safely cover the dead kitten and be sure that noone would step on her. We put the earth back over her, almost like we were tucking her in to sleep. I covered up her face last. I still couldn't quite believe the sequence of events, all in the space of an hour.

Sigh.

But, onto less scarring things - finally, after all of the crap that rained down (it feels like years ago now, but I think it was only a month ago. Once again, the Ulpan time-space paradox), I finally have some exciting news to report -

It's all looking UP!

 I have found a job. But, not only a job - the perfect job! - in online content writing.

It's in a perfect location, right by a Cofix and some bars etc, in the heart of Ramat Gan, and I'd be writing THE. WHOLE. DAY. It's also in a really cool company and my boss seems amazing.

I've also managed to find an apartment, located in central TLV, in walking distance of pretty much everything. So I'm a fairly happy bunny.

I'm also heading back to London for a week, to visit my family and 'celebrate' Christmas (read: eat chocolate, watch TV and get my haircut/go sales shopping).

I'm excited to be going, also because it's the first time I've ever left Israel, being absolutely certain of the exact timing of my next trip. Previously, I'd be quietly distraught and scheming internally at ways in which I could stay in Israel for just a little while longer.

This time, I know that London is there and waiting for me and that I'll be visiting again in a few months. I don't have to worry that I will never make it back to Israel, because it is now where I call home - for real.

I'm leaving on a high, having finally got all my shit together, and - despite some rather horrible bronchitis/laryngitis and self-imposed sleep deprivation - I feel great - happy, relaxed and excited for what will be and is to come.

Otherwise, the ulpan has vacated, and ironically I'm literally the last person to leave.

The place is quite nice but a bit eerie without the hustle and bustle of everyone and everything. The cats are free to roam the hallways, uninterrupted by people. It's pretty great, actually.

It does come over a bit like 'The Shining' at points though. The other day I got so bored (and hungry - I 'd forgotten the ulpan stops providing us food now), that I went exploring. I climbed up all 3 buildings and tried to get on to the roofs. While all doors were locked, using my cat-like abilities, I managed to climb up and squeeze through the window to gain access.

I can't believe I left it until the last few days I was in ulpan to do this. The view was absolutely breathtaking - I could see the West Bank!! -

Armon Hanatziv - West Bank to the left; East Jerusalem to the right

Later, I went back to the roof at night. The sky was clear, the stars were shining (I didn't realise how polluted the sky is in London - sometimes there I could barely see the stars) and so I started, what Grandpa would call, 'aving a fink'.

I've had a great time in Jerusalem lately. Despite what happened, despite the random terror attacks, Jerusalem has actually rather grown on me.

For me, it used to be a place of only bad memories, tension and general lack of opportunity. It was where I was biding my time until I left.

But, then several things happened - I met some fantastic people, namely my colleagues at Masa; some of the girls from my ulpan (they made my birthday one of the nicest, calmest and best I've ever had), as well as some other factors.

But Tel Aviv is where I've set to lay my hat...well, as soon as all my things are in one place - as I've had to stay in Jerusalem to finish my job at Masa (which actually I don't really mind so much), I've had to stay at the ulpan until I leave for London. When I return, it'll be to Tel Aviv. I therefore need to keep my bags all in one place, and move them before I leave for London.

Once again, David HaRomani has helped me out. He kindly offered to pick me up form the ulpan in his car and schlep my cases from ulpan to Oranit, just outside Tel Aviv, leave them there for a week and let me collect them when I return to move them to Tel Aviv. It's a massive help - I needed them to be near Tel Aviv! - and puts a lot of worry to rest in my mind.

In the meantime, just like I said, it's all coming up Milhouse,....or Fliss. The 11th hour is better than the 12th. I knew I'd get there eventually!      

All that is left to say is Merry Flissmas to you all... and a Happy Jew Year :)

The Great Apartment Hunt

'Great' as in 'large', not 'great' as in 'good'.

Since I arrived in Israel, 4 months ago in a few days, I have dealt with overwhelming amounts of bureaucracy, and found getting pretty much even the most simple things done a borderline migraine-inducing test of strength and will. Oh, you want to open a bank account? Sit here for two hours, and don't even think you're going to get your bank card until you've been here 7 times over 8 weeks. You want to earn some money and make a living? Well, do you speak Hebrew? Ha! If it's a no, then it's a no. Come back when (and if) you do. You want to convert your driving license? No, I'm sorry. I'm going to give it to some randos in Talpiot, and you'll have to go to a tribunal in a month's time where they'll decide whether you're allowed to drive or not. The racists.

All that is manageable, and bearable, because I'm where I want to be, and I've managed to get through it all fairly unshaken. This is mainly as I know I've got a certain amount of time during ulpan to 'land softly' and get through most of it, surrounded comfortably by my safety net.

But soon, this is all going to change. In just over a month's time I will be out on my ear, having finished ulpan finally. Sounds great, but in reality, the flat-hunting is maddening, draining and saddening by turns.

Here's my formula while conducting the search: location, divided by cost, divided by access, divided by space. I'm looking for something near the centre of the city or in a nice, well-to-do place, up to 4000 schmekels a month. I don't want a million rooms (for some reason, in Israel property isn't advertised like in England as '1 bed, 2 bed etc, but 1 room - studio - two rooms, etc) but I don't want to squish up all in someone else's face either. 2 rooms minimum would be fine with me, and easy to keep clean.

I'm also beginning to realise that my flat in London is massive. Some of the places I've visited (I've been to 4 so far) have been about a third of the size of my flat - 30 sqm, whatever that is. some have been fantastically located, a great apartment, one even came with a little kitten (which I'm going to try and foster even if I don't live there) but is a lease for only 5 months. one I saw today is fantastic, newly renovated and in a lovely quiet neighbourhood, but is a bit far away from the centre. Another I saw was in the best location possible, looked great from the outside but then had this weird bunk bed/loft thing, and a shower hanging over a toilet. That's a step too far even for me, I'm afraid.

And - even if you manage to find he magical apartment that is everything you ever wanted in a place and location etc etc, you better be quick - here, the best apartments re advertised 'mi pei le ozen' - literally 'from mouth to ear', but colloquially 'by word of mouth'. People tend to avoid using agents, as they charge a full month's rent as their service fee, plus a security deposit of one month's rent, plus your normal rent. As a result, when a 'good' apartment is advertised, around 50 people show up to view it. And, if you're stupid enough to look in 'advance', as I am, with 4 weeks to go, you're going to have to pay to get it. If I want to move in in mid-December, I'd need to pay for the rest of this month too to secure the place for myself.

Anyhoo. Stress-rant over.

Two of the best things to happen today - my sudden nosebleed after my third apartment viewing earlier, which happened out of nowhere and had people scrambling to help me, rather embarrassingly, and my driving lesson earlier.

My driving instructor - fluent in English, yet throwing in some Hebrew here and there just to keep me on my toes -  turns out to be my bank mate's dad, is absolutely charming, and has a lot of belief in me. I kept telling him that it felt wrong to be on the other side of the road, but he didn't seem to care, and off I drove for a full hour, in an automatic. next time I'll have a go on the manual, which is the one I want to take my test on.

Impressively (I think!) I managed to stay on the right side of the road, and noone got hurt. My instructor said that if I'd wanted to take the test on an automatic, he would have given me the test right there and then. Score!

As I said just a few weeks into my ulpan sojourn, 'hakol yihyeh beseder' - it's all going to come up Milhouse, just as everything else has.

Like most other things in Israel, it will take zman, savlanut and koach - time, patience and strength - and then it will be ok.

Here's to another week.

The Dismembered Kitten, and other stories

...and so begins another week. It's beginning to feel like I've been here for quite a while now.

Here are my  latest satirical finger-smashes: Israel to host the 2020 winter olympics, 'The Expendables 4' to be filmed in Gaza' and how a yogurt caused mass Israeli emigration to Germany. You should also check out theisraelidaily.com. It's totes worth the click. And the signing up. And more. Sod it, just read it every day!

But to the main point of this post. As I may have made mention of before, Israel has a lot of street cats. Ulpan, a microcosm of this compact but strangely vast land, has shitloads.

According to the JPost, it's (once again, as per my last post) the fault of the British:
'Cats were not prominent in Israel’s streets until the 1930s, when they were brought in to help eradicate a rat problem, but this decision ultimately caused a “cat infestation” in and of itself. No one knows exactly how many of the street cats live in Israel now, but estimates say about 2 million, according to Meow Mission.'

Obviously, cat are way preferable to rats. Much, much more so. The cats, providing they're not wholly diseased looking, are both a depressing and cute infestation to have. Add to this that quite a few of them seek affection (sometimes even post-eating), they really tug at the ole heartstrings - even my blackened, shriveled ones. Especially since I'm still feeling guilt about giving up Corny.

Since being here, I and some other ulpaners have unofficially (sometimes officially) adopted some of the cats in and around, mainly because of the boredom around here, anything to do with the various groups of cats - the ones who live in the back, in the garden; in the playground; by the entrance etc - causes excitement. There were three pregnant cats, all of whom gave birth about a month ago. All have interesting stories.

Mummy 1 - blind in one eye, black and white - the story goes, snuck into the building one day when we were all in class, and found an open suitcase outside in the corridor. She gave birth in it, to somewhere between 5 and 10 kittens (accounts vary). The suitcase's owner then returned, freaked out at its most recent usage and slung it outside, either with or without the kittens inside (again, accounts vary).

Someone then discovered to where the mother cat had fled - a tiny crack in a hidden away stone up a derelict and disused staircase, and put the suitcase near to the crack. People then started putting food and water into the suitcase, and the mother has kept her babies in the crack ever since.

Mummy 3 - a very friendly cat, one day we realised she was pregnant. Another day, I noticed she'd suddenly slimmed own and was defending a small corner of the courtyard - it turned out she'd given birth to two babies overnight - a little ginger one and a grey one. They are absolutely tiny and sleep together all snuggled. She has since moved the babies - to below my window, which is nice. I hear them mewing in the morning, and then mummy sometimes comes to the window to say hi.

Mummy 2 has had a very difficult time of it lately.

She initially gave birth to 3 kittens - two ginger ones and another, which looked just like her, with loads of different colours.

From the start, she had a hard time. Just a day after giving birth, people swarmed to look at the babies (like I said we're bored and they were really cute). For some reason, all 3 of the kittens have strange eye problems, where one of their eyes won't open fully, and developed crusts, later turning into almost a mask of gunk shrouding over half of their little faces.

To put a long and very sad story short, one of the ginger kittens died, of natural causes. It must be tough being a street cat-kitten. being around a lot of activity and not being able to see out of one side of your face. the kitten was very undernourished (cats are fascinating - the mother may have sensed that this one was weak and refused to feed it).

After it died, the mummy sat with it for a few hours. Then later, I went to check on it and possibly remove the body (in a public place, it would start to smell and rot quickly), but instead saw, horror of horrors -

The mother had decapitated it, and dismembered it limb from limb, not one foot away from her remaining kittens' shelter. A day later, only 4 little paws and half a skull were remaining.

Apparently, feral cats do this for several reasons - to fend off pray from attacking the rest of the family, or as a strange mourning ritual. Either way, it was pretty horrifying to see.

Another horrifying, sad incident involving Mummy 2 happened just this week. The other ginger kitten (who probably wouldn't have been much longer for this world anyway) mysteriously vanished.

According to the kitchen staff, she was last seen bleeding and being thrown on the floor (the Hebrew 'לזרוק', to throw, is different to 'לפול' to drop - one is active, one is passive) by a member of the ulpan. We hadn't found a body, or any trace of this - it could all be heresay, but disturbing heresay nonetheless.

Hot on the heels of that, someone decided to spread the rumour that the body of a cat had been found 'blugeund' ('bludgeoned') in the playground. We were horrified, with people out searchlight til 3am for the body of this cat. It later transpired to be one hell of a shit-stirring sick joke.

And that's ulpan for you.

It will end in 1 and a half months, and I'm crapping myself a little bit about finding permanent work - I have a few things up in the air currently - and a place to live. Do I stick around in Jerusalem (for a bit)? Do I up and move to Tel Aviv? What's my budget? We're all finding it a bit stressful at the minute.

But, onwards and upwards. With all of the chagim out of the way, it's much easier to crack on and plough through.

How time flies...unless it's 3 days of Chagim

...And suddenly, it became October.

I'm not sure how this has happened. It seems like only yesterday I was living my humdrum little life back in Britain. Fast forward to now and the spirit of change is in the air.

I like to think that I'm staying on top of things, news-wise, with my musings for The Israeli Daily - here's my thoughts on Scottish Independence and Lady Gaga's love of Israel. Check 'em before you wreck 'em.

Strangely, the whole Hebrew thing seems to have clicked. Although it takes slightly longer to form a whole sentence - without mistakes, hesitations etc - than it would in English) as I need to think about what I'm saying more, not necessarily a bad thing), my conversational skills and vocabulary are definitely improving. I'm even beginning to understand some of the logic behind the (intensely complex but deep and beautiful) language!

Although sometimes, my accent leads people to assume that I don't know Hebrew, or that I'm American. Both presumptions offend me.

The other day in the shuk, upon stocking up for the 3 day festival bonanza, of which I shall shortly discuss, I was buying fruit. The bloke behind the till, hearing my accent, began to address me in English. In competent - if imperfect, but I can live with this realisation - Hebrew, I let loose: that I needed to practise my Hebrew; that as a new immigrant here, he shouldn't assume that I couldn't or wouldn't speak Hebrew, that I wasn't stupid and he should be happy that I was at least trying to communicate. The bloke apologised, and I asked him how much my purchases would cost.

Just as I did so, by sod's law, there were a chorus of loud noises - someone shouting next to me; a van driving past - and I didn't hear what he said.  I asked him to repeat.

Cue the other chap, next to the first. After my whole, glorious sphiel about proud new immigrants etc, he turned to me and said, in heavily accented English: 'It nine shekel!'

What a time to make a point! I turned, and with my strongest English-accented Hebrew, retorting and enunciating every distinct word: 'I. Understood. I. Didn't. Hear. Because. Of. The. Noise!'

But que sera, sera. I'm now over halfway through my ulpan program - we had our מבחן אמצה - midway test - this week, and I think I did ok. I have noticed my test scores, spoken and written Hebrew have definitely improved since I've been practicing, attending class more and doing my homework every night. I'm willing to begrudgingly admit these are direct correlations.

And so it came to pass that Rosh Hashana - the Jewish New Year - this year ended up being a 3 day festival, incorporating Shabbat too. It's a time where people go to their family or friends and celebrate with them.

Having precious little of either in this country (most of my ulpan mates had gone to their families, alas), I stayed in ulpan for the 3 days. It did feel a bit weird initially - as usually I'm with my family over the holidays, apart from last year as I was looking after Corny, who wasn't very well, but that passed.

It was actually quite nice - some of my friends from ulpan were also staying there, being in the same boat as I am! - and we tried to make it as special as possible. The ulpan's kitchen tried to make everything that much more special, either because it was a festival or they pitied us poor sods with nowhere to go, but I appreciated it all the same. The food was good, the company was good and I had a really nice time!

And then, on Shabbat, just as a few more people returned to ulpan, we were fed yet another delicacy - beef. Now, I've been a little bit suspect of places which feed people en masse, other than restaurants, for some time. It's a tendency with these places, when people aren't paying directly for their food, to feed as many people as possible, as quickly and cheaply and possible. The unfortunate timing of the 3 day chag/Shabbat combo also meant that he food for Shabbat had to be cooked before the chag began.

Hence the slightly suspect timing of the beef's appearance on the Friday night. nevertheless, with not a care in the world, we ate, drank and were merry.

And then, the next day, we weren't. It soon transpired that the beef had been cooked, cooled and reheated a few days prior (aha!), and to cut a rather unpleasant story, we all got the runs. While painful, revolting and unfortunate, it was also one of the strangest bonding experiences I've yet had in ulpan. Yelling at some other pale, weak-looking soul across the courtyard, 'how many times have you had the shits today?' really goes to show just how close some of us have become.

And so. Not much else to report - this weekend will be the first time in 33 years that Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, and Eid al Addha, the Feast of the Sacrifice, will coincide. It's due to get heavy, and security has been beefed up across Jerusalem, so that should be fun. But that's probably just how stuff is, when you've got two sets of people (who already have 'issues' with one another), with one set praying, crying and fasting, and the other set feasting, celebrating and making a lot of noise.

Ironically, Eid was always my favoruite time of year when I was a teacher, as none of my pupils would be in, and I'd manage to plough through my work, free of distractions, for one blissful day.

Wishing all a גמרכתיבה וחתימה טובה וצום קל ושבת שלום! - 'may you be written and sealed in the book of life, have an easy fast and shabbat shalom'.