In Which Shani Atones for her Sins by Way of Live Poultry

As some of you may have read on facebook, I made plans two days ago, on the phone, to meet my friend Alon in Jerusalem today, Thursday (and as those of you who read this on facebook know, I serendipitously ran into him an hour later at the train station in Tel Aviv when I was there to meet my cousin -- not an important part of my story, but nonetheless a funny coincidence).

We had not made any specific plans, but instead said that we would meet and figure something out from there. It wasn't until yesterday that he called me and said he had an idea. He would not tell me what it was, except that it involved live chickens, and that I was to dress in conservative, Jewish orthodox attire and meet him downtown at 10 am. The chickens threw me a bit, but every time that Alon and I spend time together, we end up doing something interesting and enlightening, and always very original. So, while it seemed an unusual set of instructions, I complied. But in between that conversation and the following day's activities, yesterday evening, I was to attend a concert at Beit Avichai as part of Jerusalem's piyut festival.

For those of you who are now staring blankly at the screen wondering what on earth I am talking about, I will tell you that one week ago, I didn't know what a piyut was either. Here is an explanation for those of you in need of internet validation, but in a nutshell, a piyut is a Jewish liturgical text set to music. In this case, the festival consists of concerts and lectures from around the Judaic world, making the event as much a world music festival as a celebration of Judaic liturgy. The particular concert that I attended was performed by a group of Libyan musicians, with very compelling and original instruments. I went in the company of a young man named Ben that I had befriended a few weeks ago (a connection made via the "friend-of-a-friend-back-home" network, as always), and a group of his colleagues from the Hebrew Union College, or the cantorial school. The concert was really fun, partly because of the music but also because many of the audience members seemed to know some of the melodies of the piyutim already, and were singing and swaying in time with the music. The concert was set in an outdoor courtyard, in perfect temperature (Jerusalem outdoors during the summer maintains an ideal climate), and we generally had a very good time.

That was yesterday.

This morning, I woke myself at 8:30, showered, and then realized from looking through my bag that I had not actually packed any orthodox-appropriate attire. This is odd for me, as some of you may realize, because the main requirement for a young religious Jewish girl is a long skirt, and as we know, that is not an unusual find in Shani's wardrobe; but in this case, I found myself without. So, I hopped upstairs, and after obtaining permission, rifled through my hostess' closet in search of something passable. I found a long, purple, corduroy skirt which seemed fitting, and paired it with my own clothes, a simple, modest, black t-shirt, and a long-sleeved, loose black jacket on top of that. Once I had french braided my hair to the side, you could not have picked me out of a lineup of young observant Jewish girls. I still find it interesting that wearing specific clothing and walking in specific areas can completely change your identity; in that garb, I was spoken to differently, treated differently -- especially once we reached our destination -- and what's more, I felt different. But all that is beside the point, so I grabbed my camera, and walked out of the door.

From there, I took a bus to Kikar Ziyon, the place I think of as the very center of Jerusalem, whether or not that is actually accurate, which is where I was to meet Alon. After briefly catching up over some coffee and a decadent pastry at the Kadosh Cafe, we set out towards Me'a She'arim, one of Jerusalem's oldest and most religious neighborhoods. It is one of the few places I've been to where I hear conversational Yiddish, where the modest conservative attire is enforced, and where every Jewish tradition is followed by everyone, without question. Stepping into Me'a She'arim feels like entering a whole different world. After some searching, some asking, and a bit of navigational luck, Alon and I came across a tent on the sidewalk. Inside the tent was a table with some laminated prayer cards on it, some Haredi Jews, a stack of boxes, and along one side of the tent a chicken run, fully stocked with noisy chickens.

I think it's time to explain.

In the Jewish tradition, Kapparot, or "atonements," are an ancient custom. It is believed that it is possible to release your sins from the previous year by transferring them to an object that is then sacrificed or destroyed. In many Jewish traditions, the person performing the kappara will use a bill of money, which he or she will then donate or invest in a worthy cause. The more archaic version is to inflict your sins on a live chicken, which is then donated to a needy family for their pre-Yom Kippur feast. For those of you who don't know, Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement, begins tomorrow night at sundown and continues through Saturday night. It is a day in which people fast, symbolizing their sorrow and regret, in order to absolve them so they are then able to begin the new year with a clean slate. The customary time to perform the kappara, then, is before Yom Kippur begins. The ritual involves selecting a chicken, holding it with both hands, and moving it in a circle three times over your head while reciting a prayer of atonement. Then the chicken is not returned to the run, but placed in a box, ready to be delivered to its next destination.

I am happy to say that both Alon and I released our sins today, in time for Yom Kippur. I am even happier to say that I am not a witness to the next stop in the chicken's journey, but I do feel that I made an anthropological study today, and learned something about my religion that was I was not formerly acquainted with -- and above all, I got some very original photographs. :)

 

In Which Shani Closes the Year as a Girl, and Starts the New Year as a Lobster

Let me begin by wishing everyone a very happy new year, or shana tova. :) It is now the year 5771, and the moon is broken, the stars are radioactive, and humankind has evaporated, leaving only technology and the pure shadows of...

...no, it's not like that. But yes, according to the lunar calendar, we have begun our 5771st year. And may I say that it began with as much sun and hot weather as we experienced at the end of the year 5770. After four days of baking on the shores of the Sea of Galilee with my cousins, my skin is more vividly red than the Midwest on a typical electoral map of the United States. But let me backtrack.

The beginning of last week was spent in trying to reorganize myself a bit. My bed has still not arrived, I was promised that it would between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur (this past weekend, and next weekend, respectively), but I was able to get a bit farther along. My room, in fact, now houses a halfway-built writing desk, surrounded by erroneous wooden boards, screws, tools and a small container of glue. Yeah, ok, so I didn't finish it -- I ran out of time. My fairly distant cousin Yarden, who up until Tuesday afternoon was just a figment of conversation, finally materialized on my doorstep, complete with screwdrivers, and helped me construct some of the furniture that I had bought with my dad's cousin Ganit two days before. Unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to finish, because I had to run and catch a train to Modi'in, to be picked up by my cousin Yuval and taken to Re'ut, where they live, for their great aunt Fini's birthday party.

I had never met Great Aunt Fini before. She is Austrian, married into my uncle's family (who in turn, married into my family, so I'm not related by blood to any of these people), and now considers her Israeli branch of the family her closest relatives. She was visiting from Vienna, and it was her birthday, so all of my uncle Gideon's brothers and sisters and their children made it to Re'ut for the event. I saw people I hadn't seen in years (including Gali, the little girl who last year became famous for befriending a Sumatran tiger cub, if any of you remember her), and also got to meet Fini and her daughter, who told me that as soon as I decided to make a trip to Vienna, I would be treated like family and acquainted with everyone they know at the opera houses and the philharmonic. (I'm saving already, for those of you who are wondering.) We saw a slideshow of pictures of Gideon's trip to Mongolia, Susie (Fini's daughter)'s trips to French Polynesia, Thailand and Kenya, ate good food, and generally had a very good time.

The following morning, my aunt Orli, uncle Gideon, my great aunt Naomi, myself, and my two cousins Yuval and Yaarah left for the Kineret - or, the Sea of Galilee.

Since we were so many people plus luggage, we needed to take two cars. I was placed in the car that my cousin Yuval was driving, a fairly new thing for him (he's almost 18 years old) and definitely the longest drive that he has thus far attempted (only about 2 and a half hours, for those of you thinking by American standards). My other cousin was in the backseat. The "grown-ups" were in the other car. After arriving at our little kibbutz, our little beachfront resort village, we spent four glorious days swimming in the freshwater, baking in the sand, eating in the restaurants, and filling our spare time with games (backgammon and guillotine being the most popular choices) and movies in our cabins. It was a wonderfully relaxing vacation, marred only by the fact that gingers were not intended to bake on beaches, and, once again, we return to the subject of my hideous sunburns -- although they are already beginning to turn into an uncharacteristically impressive tan, which, as those of you know who are pale and pasty like me, has almost the comforting equivalent of aloe vera.

Last night, on our way home, we stopped at Cinema City (Tel Aviv's answer to an American movie theatre -- a 25 screen shopping mall) and saw "The Maiden Heist," which was very different from all of our expectations. If you are in the mood for a tongue-in-cheek heist film with really good actors (Christopher Walken, Morgan Freeman, William H. Macy, Marcia Gay Harden) playing in ridiculous roles, a simple plot, and a lot of campy humor, then I highly recommend this film. All in all, it was the perfect relaxing end to the perfect relaxing holiday.

In Which Shani Gets a Bed, and There is a Lot of Walking

Today, after spending an impressive amount of money and contributing greatly to the Israeli economy, I am the proud owner of a full-sized bed (1m40 for those of you who follow European measurements), which will be delivered to me once Israel recovers from the sudden bout of continuous Jewish holidays that it always suffers from this time of year.

I won't bore you all with the details of choosing a bed. Trust me, it is not interesting. I will say a major thank you to Shmulik, my dad's cousin and bed-hunting companion, for his help in the matter, as well as to the rest of the family, friends and other Israeli residents who have been so kindly hosting me during my pre-bed bedlam, and leave the matter at that.

One thing I've learned, however, from two days of continuous Tel Aviv action -- once my dad and the car were, of course, out of my day-to-day routine -- is that I need a good pair of sandals, a pair that was perhaps NOT purchased at Urban Outfitters on sale for $10. That is my next project -- it is only marginally less important than a bed.

I was alarmed, at first, at the size of Tel Aviv. I have never really lived in a big city before (I lived in Jerusalem for a year after high school, it's true, but it was a very different experience, and Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are two cities with totally different personalities as well). The amount of things that Tel Aviv has to offer, combined with the number of important people who live here led me to believe that I was dealing with an intimidating, overwhelming metropolis, a la New York City. This, however, was only until I started walking around, carrying a map (smartly wrapped in plastic, thanks to Yael) in my purse at all times. Remember the plaza that is very very close to my apartment? The one that was built to commemorate Prime Minister Rabin? Well, the distance between the plaza and my apartment on the map is about an inch. That gave me an idea as to the scale of the map and the size of the city, and I started walking just about everywhere, which has been allowing me both to get to know the city better, and to understand -- most importantly -- where the cozier coffee shops are located. This pastime is rated one of the more important by the residents of Tel Aviv, who seem to spend their evenings flitting from one cafe to another.

Just so everyone is aware, a coffee shop in Israel is not the same as it is in most parts of the US. It is not just a place to drink coffee. First of all, there is always plenty of coffee-free food on the menu as well, usually very good and often quite healthy (everything from salads and sandwiches to full meals), making the coffee shop a perfect place to sit and have lunch; second of all, though, it becomes a social gathering place, a workplace, a place of serendipitous occasions. I found myself with almost three hours to kill, yesterday, in which I armed myself with a purse and a laptop, and found a coffee shop near my house where I parked for that time and caught up on various things that needed to be done. Everyone was very friendly, and the wifi was free -- and the food, of course, delicious. It is definitely a place that I will keep in mind for the future. (Like a true Tel Avivian. And so it begins...)

All this is beside the point, however -- the point is that I did not get lost ONCE, and was even able to loop back around to the house I started from at the end of the evening, having practically walked the circumference of the city, with various stops along the way.

Apart from the oppressive heat, it has been a rather fun and effective way of getting to know Tel Aviv. For a city that has all the amenities of a big, happening place, it also has the advantages of a smaller one; it is walkable, it's familiar, and no matter where you are, you are very likely going to run into someone you know.