An immigrant to Israel learns the art of patience
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Jill Garbi, writing this column in the garden of her new home in central Israel.
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August 27, 2012
When NJJN managing editor Abby Meth Kanter suggested I write a column about my move from Oakhurst to Israel, my first instinct was to respond “No, thanks.”
The first couple of months are the toughest after making aliya, and I wouldn’t want an account of my family’s challenges to affect anyone considering the same move.
But the truth is, the allure of Israel and its people outweighs the exasperation of the bureaucratic balagan* that most new immigrants endure.
I made the move in July with my husband, Pinni, and our 11-year-old daughter, Eden. We moved for more reasons than this column can describe, but partly because my sabra husband missed his family and homeland, and Eden and I longed for a meaningful Jewish adventure.
Ironically, it is my husband who is having the hardest time out of the three of us as he readjusts to the mentality he had left behind after his IDF service. Chief among his complaints are the careless drivers, pushing in lines, and road signage that’s scarce and confusing.
With each passing day, our daughter becomes more and more Israeli in her speech and mannerisms. She speaks and argues in Hebrew around the clock with her cousins. Her American accent is fading in a way mine probably never will. Amazingly, she is undaunted by the prospect of enrolling in a new school where she knows no one, and where subjects like math, science, and history will be taught entirely in Hebrew.
We find Israeli life full of contradictions. Most Israelis work (and argue) with an intensity that borders on ferocious. But they have an equally voracious passion for pleasure, particularly of the unplanned, drop-everything-and-go variety. Hibachi grills and picnic blankets pepper each patch of green throughout the country. Water holes and watering holes are filled to capacity. The beaches swarm with Israelis swimming in their skivvies because they were on their way somewhere else when the urge to swim struck.
All it took was a mere mention of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), and within moments we were on the road with several carloads of friends, family, food, and kayaks. A phone call from the road landed us a cruise on a friend’s commercial fishing boat and the opportunity to dive into the deepest part of the sea, where the water is the coolest.
‘Smart move’
While the typical Israeli lifestyle is fast-paced, momentum screeches to a halt on the important stuff — like registering as a citizen, getting a driver’s license, enrolling our daughter in school, buying a car, or choosing a cell phone carrier.
“L’at, l’at,” we are advised repeatedly. This translates loosely to ‘Hold your horses; these things require time and patience.”
Israelis offer more opinions than one can digest in a lifetime.
The discussion on the pros and cons of installing central air conditioning or split units in our new house dragged on for more than a month, ultimately postponing our move-in date. L’at, l’at.
The furniture can’t be delivered until the air conditioners are installed. L’at, l’at. The flowers and fruit trees in the garden are in full bloom, but the kitchen counters, stove, and cabinets are not in yet. L’at, l’at. School starts soon, and we can’t register our daughter or tour the school until the secretary gets back from vacation. L’at, l’at.
Overall, we are captivated by life here, invigorated by each Shabbat spent in the Holy Land, and the prospect of our first High Holy Days with our large extended family. We love reuniting with New Jersey friends visiting Israel, and those who have also moved here, such as the Tanzmans from Long Branch, the Rosenzweigs from Oakhurst, and the Mandlebaums from Highland Park.
Soon we will move to our new home on a farm once owned by my husband’s grandparents. It’s in a dusty town called Moshav Petahiya that few Israelis have even heard of and where no Americans have lived before. Fortunately, the moshav is a short drive from the thriving metropolises of Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and Modi’in.
Adjoining our property is a vineyard and fruit export company run by our uncle Zemach Ishay, who once served as Israel’s water commissioner. Now in his 80s, Zemach hasn’t lost the gift of making desert soil bloom. The daily yield of just one of his fig trees can feed the entire village.
Moshav Petahiya is a perfect haven for writing, and I look forward to staying connected to Monmouth County’s Jewish community by covering its missions and Birthright trips to Israel for NJJN. I often re-read all the congratulatory notes sent to me by friends from various Monmouth Jewish agencies when they heard we were moving to Israel.
“Very smart move,” one note read. “Wish we had done it long ago.”
* The first word learned by most new immigrants to Israel, meaning bedlam, chaos, fiasco.
Jill Garbi moved with her family from Oakhurst to central Israel last July. Before making aliya, she was an NJJN contributing writer.
Comments
Jannette Brickman
August 29, 2012
This was great to read! My husband and I want to take a trip to Israel at some point and this was a nice primer!
Avi Rosenzweig
August 30, 2012
Love reading about former NJ Jews and their adventures—especially related to Israel and Aliyah. Keep the posts coming! Wish you the best of luck in your Aliyah, and a smooth transition.
Kim Mejer
August 30, 2012
I was so excited to see this article and am happy to know that even though your family is thousands of miles away, you are adjusting, and we can continue to follow your family’s growth abroad. Keep the articles coming!
lynn angelini
August 31, 2012
Jill, you look radiant and glowingly beautiful. This was a lovely article that makes us all smile for your happiness.
Yoav Mejer
September 02, 2012
I am glad to hear you guys are enjoying the experience. If I am might suggest future articles: expectations vs reality, ulpan experience, eden’ school experience, the israeli schul wxperience, compare and contrast daily tasks, etc. Israel has a lot to offer, but it is a different language and culture. Tell us about it !
Shashi Ishai
September 19, 2012
My family and I left Teaneck, N.J. three years ago (Rosh Hashona). Your article made me chuckle, as I remember the terrible time I had that first year. Upon entering Ulpan, I went five hours a day, five days a week and about three hours of nightly homework. What you have to learn by yourself is the Israeli psyche. It defies logic, as well as organization and common sense.
We live in Netanya. We bought a top of the line vacuum cleaner, that allegedly had a “wet” button to wash, as well as a “dry” button to suck up the dirt. Neither worked. We shlepped it back to the chain store to get a refund or similar product. A"disection crew” of former Soviet agents began to test out our allegations, frequently referring to the manual, and exchanging knowing looks between each other. My 10th grade dissection of a worm didn’t look as precise and thorough. They threw dirt on the store floor (probably originating from my apt), and alas, the machine failed to pick it up. Finally, the store manager looked at us and yelled, “what do you think this is, a vacuum cleaner?”
Three years later, I laugh and love Israel. Only now, I use a broom.
Lauren Cohen
September 23, 2012
Jill and I have passed emails between us and she suggested I read this - I am so glad because a. I must admit that I too have never heard of this Moshav, even though we have lived in Modiin for the last 12 years; and b. here is my story of Aliya. I am writing this to encourage others, though this is not a “fairytale” Aliya:
My parents made Aliya right before the Yom Kippur war. I was 5 and my sister was 2 months old. When the war started, we were livin in Jerusalem in French Hill. My father was very worried that perhaps he had made a terrible mistake in taking his young family into a war zone. During the first night of blackout (I remember the windows being covered), a knock was sounded on our door. When my parents opened it was Havatzelet from my dad’s work. She had walked (no buses) from Ramot Eshkol to French Hill in the dark just to ease my parent’s mind. She had told my parents that “Yehiye Beseder” - everything will turn out ok eventually and it did.
However, my parents found it financially very difficult here and decided to return to the states when I was in the middle of my army service. My Mother left first and my father and 2 sisters joined later. They had asked me if I wanted to join them, but since I had met my then future husband (during the army service) and since I felt that I belong here, I stayed.
After a 5 year stay in Texas (my husband’s work had sent us there in 1995), we are proud residents of Modiin. We can also tell funny-yet-sad stories about the service in Israel, but I think things are getting better (or perhaps I am just used to the conditions here..)
I wish you all Gemar Hatima Tova,
Lauren Cohen
Marisa Procopio
January 23, 2013
Fascinating, and a wonderful read!