Yesterday afternoon, on my way to dinner, I was, for the first time, a true witness to life's greatest miracles.
A few days ago, I received a phone call from my mom's very good friend Yael, whom she has known since they were 18, asking if I wanted to come have Shabbat dinner with them this week. Of course, I was very happy to do so, so we planned that I would get on a bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem around 3:00 on Friday (the buses here stop about an hour before the sabbath, and the sun sets very early these days), and get off one stop before Jerusalem, in Mevasseret, where they live.
The bus stopped at the Mevasseret Bridge, literally a stop in the middle of the highway, around 4:00, and I got out, pulling out my phone so I could call Yaeli and tell her I was there. While I was on the phone with her, a man with a ponytail who was walking a bicycle ran up to me and yelled "do you speak Hebrew??" I motioned to him to please wait a moment, because I was on the phone, but he continued to yell in my ear. I barely heard Yaeli, over the shouting, say that I should climb up the hill to the side of the highway and she'd pick me up in her car at the top. So I closed my phone and turned to the guy, and said "what's the problem??"
His response was, "see the car parked on the shoulder of the highway? The woman in the front seat is halfway through giving birth. We really need your help."
I didn't know what to say or do, but I shrieked and ran over to the car. The mother-to-be, a Haredi (ultra-orthodox) Jewish woman was leaning back as far as she could in the passenger seat, calm and without screaming, while another woman was holding the door of the car, slightly open so she would have air, but mostly shut because of the cold wind. I will spare you all the graphic details, but suffice it to say that there was indeed half a baby already enjoying his first breaths, while the other half was still contained in its previous nine-month abode. What astounded me the most was that the mother wasn't making a single sound. She leaned back, and looked at me when I approached, and said nothing. I think she was completely in shock that this was going on, not to mention her husband, who was outside of the car, spinning around in circles and pleading for help with every person who walked by him.
Since most of the people helping out apparently did NOT speak Hebrew, someone handed me a phone as soon as I got there, and just said the word "ambulance." I took the phone, and spoke with the health representative on the other side of the line, trying to simultaneously follow and translate her instructions about keeping the mother warm, keeping calm until the ambulance gets there, etc... one woman put an apron over the mother's torso, as well, so the baby was obscured from view and wouldn't catch a chill. But then the voice said "now. I need you to take hold of the baby's head and very gently pull."
I'm amazed I didn't faint at that point. I told the invisible voice that I didn't think I could do that... I had never delivered a baby in my life, and didn't trust myself to do it now. The woman told me that this was very urgent, that the mother needed me now... that only I could help. I was about to lose it, when the mother calmly told me from the front of the car "oh, the baby's completely out now. Could you maybe help me wrap him up?"
I told the lady on the phone that the baby was out, and then quickly handed it off to someone else. With some help from the father and the guy with the ponytail, we found a clean, spare shirt in the mother's bag in the backseat of the car, and the ponytail guy and I, together, swaddled the baby (being careful not to choke him on his umbilical cord), just as we heard the ambulance's sirens wailing on the highway. (The ambulance did, at first, come up the highway in the wrong direction, and actually took an exit IN REVERSE, drove in reverse over the bridge, and showed up minutes later on the correct side.) At that point, the paramedics took over, the couple thanked us profusely, and I walked up the hill to go meet Yaeli (who was waiting patiently in her car, after calling me to find out where I was about 10 minutes earlier). I was still overwhelmed, trying desperately to put the images out of my mind so I could just focus on dinner with family friends, but I was also really blown away by what I had just seen, and what I had just done.
I will never forget that moment in my entire life.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
In Which Wednesday is a Very Good Day
To some, hump day... to me, on this particular occasion, a day full of good news, good food and good friends. :)
Yesterday, I had planned to have two friends over for dinner. In the morning, I got up, went grocery shopping, and then came home to start cooking. On the menu: a sweet potato risotto (parsnips in the recipe, but I've always been one to improvise), a lentil salad, a green salad, some homemade garlic bread and "hand made" chocolate mousse (hand made because I didn't have the right equipment, aka the electric hand mixer -- but it still came out delicious!). My French neighbor Benoit, who lives in the penthouse apartment of my building, stopped by to see my roommate, and was so impressed by the menu that he wants to have us all over for dinner (the whole building) next week. And I promised to bring something. I also ended up with a recurring coffee date to get together and practice my French, starting with Monday night. All good things. But moving on. :)
At 3:30 I had a job interview at the Israel Opera in Tel Aviv, with Ms. B, the production manager. Ms. B is an American woman who has lived in Israel for twenty three years, and doesn't speak a word of Hebrew. Everyone warned me before the interview, "she's a total character -- don't be alarmed," and "she'll either like you or hate you, there's nothing you can do about it, so just relax." All things you want to hear when you're going into a job interview!
At 3:30 I was waiting in Ms. B's secretary's office. At around 3:40, Ms. B's door opened and I was invited inside.
After the hellos and how are yous, Ms. B said to me "Shani, tell me about yourself." So I told her about my undergraduate degrees, and my decision to move to Tel Aviv after college... and her response was "ok. Let's cut the bullshit."
I was very taken aback, because that's not something I was expecting to hear two minutes into my interview. I didn't know exactly what I had done wrong, but I stopped talking and looked at her for a clue as to what to do or say next. And then she continued that thought. "...enough with the small talk. You sold me when you walked in the door."
We spent another twenty minutes or so chatting, her asking me about my experience, whether or not I can read music (affirmative), whether I can read/speak any other languages (affirmative), whether I like opera (affirmative)... she told me that normally does not like hiring relatives of employees (for those of you who don't know, my aunt Limor works in the Tel Aviv opera house), but that clearly I am not just taking advantage of my connections, that I actually have the skills and experience necessary for this kind of work (not on stage, but backstage - production work). The peak of the conversation was the moment when she told me that ideally, she wanted me in the position of ASSISTANT ARTISTIC DIRECTOR... but that that job is taken for the time being, by someone who, I gather, is unsatisfactory. She hinted that there may be a chance that the position will at some point become available, but for the time being that she really wants me around the place, that it's where I belong, and that I will be called whenever I am needed. At the end of the interview, she stood up, shook my hand, and said "welcome aboard."
...
I now work for the Israel Opera in Tel Aviv! Officially! :)
After the interview, in a daze, I walked to my next appointment, which was a two hour babysitting job. In this house, I am half babysitter, half governess -- the family just spent two years in Pittsburgh and has hired me as much for English practice as for babysitting. I will meet with the three girls once a week (ages 5-9), pick them up from school in the afternoon, and then spend a few hours of exclusive English speaking with them until their parents come home in the evening. Yesterday, we played some board games, and then when it was time for me to leave, all three of them draped themselves over me, saying "no! Shanini! Don't leave!" which I was very touched by, of course. I will see them again next Thursday.
Then, I came home, finished cooking, and spent the rest of the evening relaxing in my apartment with my childhood friends, Sahar and Alma. What a very lovely day!
P.S. Today my roommate's sister came by to pick something up, and remarked that Bamba has never acted around any of the other roommates as she does around me... she lets me play with her, kisses me on the nose, curls up in my bed... apparently I am the first to receive that privilege. More good news. :)
Yesterday, I had planned to have two friends over for dinner. In the morning, I got up, went grocery shopping, and then came home to start cooking. On the menu: a sweet potato risotto (parsnips in the recipe, but I've always been one to improvise), a lentil salad, a green salad, some homemade garlic bread and "hand made" chocolate mousse (hand made because I didn't have the right equipment, aka the electric hand mixer -- but it still came out delicious!). My French neighbor Benoit, who lives in the penthouse apartment of my building, stopped by to see my roommate, and was so impressed by the menu that he wants to have us all over for dinner (the whole building) next week. And I promised to bring something. I also ended up with a recurring coffee date to get together and practice my French, starting with Monday night. All good things. But moving on. :)
At 3:30 I had a job interview at the Israel Opera in Tel Aviv, with Ms. B, the production manager. Ms. B is an American woman who has lived in Israel for twenty three years, and doesn't speak a word of Hebrew. Everyone warned me before the interview, "she's a total character -- don't be alarmed," and "she'll either like you or hate you, there's nothing you can do about it, so just relax." All things you want to hear when you're going into a job interview!
At 3:30 I was waiting in Ms. B's secretary's office. At around 3:40, Ms. B's door opened and I was invited inside.
After the hellos and how are yous, Ms. B said to me "Shani, tell me about yourself." So I told her about my undergraduate degrees, and my decision to move to Tel Aviv after college... and her response was "ok. Let's cut the bullshit."
I was very taken aback, because that's not something I was expecting to hear two minutes into my interview. I didn't know exactly what I had done wrong, but I stopped talking and looked at her for a clue as to what to do or say next. And then she continued that thought. "...enough with the small talk. You sold me when you walked in the door."
We spent another twenty minutes or so chatting, her asking me about my experience, whether or not I can read music (affirmative), whether I can read/speak any other languages (affirmative), whether I like opera (affirmative)... she told me that normally does not like hiring relatives of employees (for those of you who don't know, my aunt Limor works in the Tel Aviv opera house), but that clearly I am not just taking advantage of my connections, that I actually have the skills and experience necessary for this kind of work (not on stage, but backstage - production work). The peak of the conversation was the moment when she told me that ideally, she wanted me in the position of ASSISTANT ARTISTIC DIRECTOR... but that that job is taken for the time being, by someone who, I gather, is unsatisfactory. She hinted that there may be a chance that the position will at some point become available, but for the time being that she really wants me around the place, that it's where I belong, and that I will be called whenever I am needed. At the end of the interview, she stood up, shook my hand, and said "welcome aboard."
...
I now work for the Israel Opera in Tel Aviv! Officially! :)
After the interview, in a daze, I walked to my next appointment, which was a two hour babysitting job. In this house, I am half babysitter, half governess -- the family just spent two years in Pittsburgh and has hired me as much for English practice as for babysitting. I will meet with the three girls once a week (ages 5-9), pick them up from school in the afternoon, and then spend a few hours of exclusive English speaking with them until their parents come home in the evening. Yesterday, we played some board games, and then when it was time for me to leave, all three of them draped themselves over me, saying "no! Shanini! Don't leave!" which I was very touched by, of course. I will see them again next Thursday.
Then, I came home, finished cooking, and spent the rest of the evening relaxing in my apartment with my childhood friends, Sahar and Alma. What a very lovely day!
P.S. Today my roommate's sister came by to pick something up, and remarked that Bamba has never acted around any of the other roommates as she does around me... she lets me play with her, kisses me on the nose, curls up in my bed... apparently I am the first to receive that privilege. More good news. :)
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
In Which Things Start to Happen
I realize it has been a while since I've posted. Since my chicken adventure, in fact. Those of you who are my facebook friends may have noticed that there were certain events in my life that demanded my immediate attention. But I have not forgotten you all, and here we are again with another installment of Shani's life in the promised land. :)
On the practical front, things have not progressed much. I am still currently unemployed, on the market, as it were -- though certain Tel Aviv citizens have interpreted my aura of "on the market" a little too literally. I am trying to keep a tally of the number of guys -- of all ages, single, divorced, and STILL MARRIED -- who have hit on me in the streets and asked for my phone number (I believe yesterday's bus encounter makes seven). While this may sound very obnoxious (and it certainly can be), this kind of behavior (dubbed by my father "testosterone fest") does not have the same stigmas attached to it that it would have in the United States. I have come to the conclusion that people in Israel are simply friendlier. It is much more widely accepted to strike up a conversation with someone who catches your eye, whether it is on the beach, or in a cafe, or even just waiting for the bus. The outspoken quality of the Israelis is taking some getting used to, for sure, but I am very flattered by the attention and am taking it all as a big compliment!
In other news, my one remaining claim to studenthood -- my Hebrew University course -- started yesterday. Getting myself signed up and registered for this course was nothing short of a headache. After a complex and elaborate telephone scavenger hunt (with each phone call resulting in someone telling me to call someone else), I was finally able to talk to someone who seemed to know what to do. It's tricky because I'm not registering for a specific degree, but just a single course, and so both the registration and payment processes are different than the norm. So all of this comes with a great deal of red tape. But once I was able to talk to someone who told me that I was able to register online, I did... only to receive a letter in the mail a week later informing me that they are sorry, but I can't register for a course in humanities because my level of English is not high enough.
...
Once I stopped laughing, I sent a frantic e-mail to my dad asking him for help. That is a criticism I had not yet encountered, with my two bachelor degrees from an American, completely English-speaking university. This all happened about a week before the course was supposed to actually begin, so I wasn't sure exactly where this would go. As it turns out, the conclusion was based on my failure to submit a te'udat bagrut (the Israeli equivalent of, say, an International Baccalaureate exam -- specific tests for each subject), as I did not go to school here. So I scanned my DePauw transcript, faxed it in, and am now -- FINALLY -- an official student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, studying on the Mt. Scopus campus! My first class was yesterday.
For those of you who don't know about this, let me explain a bit about the course. The Hebrew University was kind enough to construct a course based exclusively on my many and varied interests from my bachelor degrees. They may not realize that they scored so closely, but for one such as myself, with specializations in music, French, and medieval art history, a course entitled "Music, Art and Liturgy in Medieval French Churches" could not possibly have been more apt if it tried -- with the possible exception of, say, a prerequisite in red hair. It's that level of fortuitousness!
The course is a collaborative effort, taught by a professor in the musicology department together with a professor from art history. Yesterday, they had all the students (maybe 25-30 of us total, me being easily the youngest -- without the two years of military service I am farther ahead in my advanced education at 24 than most Israelis are at 27 or so) introduce themselves, and say whether they are from the music side or the art side, whether they have studied any languages, what periods they're interested in and if they have experience with the Middle Ages. When they got to me, my response was "I studied both music and art history, I majored in French (as well as taking Spanish, Italian and German at varying levels of intensity), and as far as art history goes, I am primarily focused on the Middle Ages." Yeah, I'm pretty sure the class hates me. But the professors seemed pleased, so I guess that's what counts. Haha. The course is a year long, though, which is an entirely new experience for me, but I have high hopes for it -- and much as I never thought that I would say this, I have actually really missed being in school and it's nice to have one day a week where I'm a student again. :)
This is not the only development of mine that has been the result of a great deal of hoop-jumping, however. As of last Wednesday (a week ago today), 21 hours after I received in the mail my official release from the Israeli military (a chore in and of itself, involving multiple phone calls, endless phone menus, military beaurocracy, e-mails to the States, e-mails to the various military bases in Israel, e-mails to experts that bounced back, and finally the help of a friend who is currently enlisted who was able to accomplish in a half hour what I had been attempting to do for a month), I had an appointment at Tel Aviv's "Misrad HaKlita," or the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption. After a lot of human ping pong, again, in which I was bounced backwards and forwards from one office to another, I walked out with my official "Te'udat Zaka'ut," or my Certificate of Eligibility. It is a document that proves that I am an official returning citizen, who, after having spent most of my life outside of the state of Israel, has decided to return and am therefore entitled to certain benefits. The document itself looks like a passport, and is my ticket to various perks such as free tuition, health benefits and a tax break, among others. All in all, an important acquisition. My next step is the national insurance office.
In other news, while the job front has not progressed much, I have still started to get my name out there, and am beginning to build a network of connections in Tel Aviv. Aside from the community of both Israeli and American families who have come out of the woodwork seeking bilingual babysitters, I also visited a youth center with an after-school program for underprivileged teens, where I believe I will start volunteering once a week as the resident voice coach. My great uncle Reuven, the non-profit king, took me to visit there last week, and there is apparently a relatively high percentage of students who are interested in singing -- everything from traditional Israeli music at family functions to the Lea Michele groupies whose next big dream is their name in Broadway lights. There is a semi-functional piano at the center, so I am headed there for my first session on Thursday, to meet the interested students and see how I can help. I think my job there will boil down to a few private voice lessons a week, as well as maybe some group preparation around holidays and national events, when the center organizes parties, and in some cases, even a talent show or revue performance. All in all, it sounds very rewarding, and I can't wait to start!
It is funny, too, how one musical happening leads to another, however serendipitously. While my head was abuzz with thoughts of vocal pedagogy, I happened to stumble across a status update on facebook, posted by someone I haven't seen in six years. This man, by the name of Yisra'el, was in a production of Camelot with me in Jerusalem when my family was here the last time, right after I graduated from high school, through a company called JEST: Jerusalem English Speaking Theatre, which is where we met; and later that same year he had organized a hanukkah cabaret performance, in which I was a participant as well. This particular status update was a cry for male voices for a production of Kismet (appropriately) that is being produced right now in Jerusalem. I posted some impromptu facetious comment about being able to sing baritone if necessary (particularly right now, as I have been plagued with a very nasty cough), only to be immediately targeted by a message that said "Wait, you're in Israel?? Do you want to be in Kismet? How are you??"" (to which my response was "Yes! Yes! And fine!"). So last night, after my course at the university, I headed to a neighborhood in Jerusalem called Rehavia to crash the rehearsal and (symbolically, thanks to the cough) audition.
As well as Yisra'el, there was another girl there, involved in the show, who I haven't seen in six years. My friend Inbal, another Camelot survivor, three months older than me who I had gotten quite close with until she got married a month after Camelot closed and had two kids, making quality hanging out time slightly more complicated. I showed up at the rehearsal with my friend Ben, cantorial student and pillar of moral support (who, incidentally, got attacked as soon as he walked in the door and everyone learned that he is a male who can sing -- something I feel quite guilty about), and the first person to walk out of the rehearsal space was Inbal. We both shrieked and hugged each other, and I suddenly couldn't believe that so much time has passed since we last saw each other. It was a truly great moment that more than made up for the haphazard, disorganized atmosphere and crazy theatre vibes (all things that I dearly miss, mind you) that were bouncing ceaselessly around the rehearsal venue.
Anyway, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but two hours later I walked out of the hall with sheet music in my hand, choreography in my head, and -- apparently -- a part in the musical "Kismet." They rehearse three times a week, so mostly doable as far as the commute goes from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. It opens in about a month. I am quite excited, and as always, astounded by the ways in which theatre is able to find me, even in a place in which I know virtually no one. :)
On the practical front, things have not progressed much. I am still currently unemployed, on the market, as it were -- though certain Tel Aviv citizens have interpreted my aura of "on the market" a little too literally. I am trying to keep a tally of the number of guys -- of all ages, single, divorced, and STILL MARRIED -- who have hit on me in the streets and asked for my phone number (I believe yesterday's bus encounter makes seven). While this may sound very obnoxious (and it certainly can be), this kind of behavior (dubbed by my father "testosterone fest") does not have the same stigmas attached to it that it would have in the United States. I have come to the conclusion that people in Israel are simply friendlier. It is much more widely accepted to strike up a conversation with someone who catches your eye, whether it is on the beach, or in a cafe, or even just waiting for the bus. The outspoken quality of the Israelis is taking some getting used to, for sure, but I am very flattered by the attention and am taking it all as a big compliment!
In other news, my one remaining claim to studenthood -- my Hebrew University course -- started yesterday. Getting myself signed up and registered for this course was nothing short of a headache. After a complex and elaborate telephone scavenger hunt (with each phone call resulting in someone telling me to call someone else), I was finally able to talk to someone who seemed to know what to do. It's tricky because I'm not registering for a specific degree, but just a single course, and so both the registration and payment processes are different than the norm. So all of this comes with a great deal of red tape. But once I was able to talk to someone who told me that I was able to register online, I did... only to receive a letter in the mail a week later informing me that they are sorry, but I can't register for a course in humanities because my level of English is not high enough.
...
Once I stopped laughing, I sent a frantic e-mail to my dad asking him for help. That is a criticism I had not yet encountered, with my two bachelor degrees from an American, completely English-speaking university. This all happened about a week before the course was supposed to actually begin, so I wasn't sure exactly where this would go. As it turns out, the conclusion was based on my failure to submit a te'udat bagrut (the Israeli equivalent of, say, an International Baccalaureate exam -- specific tests for each subject), as I did not go to school here. So I scanned my DePauw transcript, faxed it in, and am now -- FINALLY -- an official student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, studying on the Mt. Scopus campus! My first class was yesterday.
For those of you who don't know about this, let me explain a bit about the course. The Hebrew University was kind enough to construct a course based exclusively on my many and varied interests from my bachelor degrees. They may not realize that they scored so closely, but for one such as myself, with specializations in music, French, and medieval art history, a course entitled "Music, Art and Liturgy in Medieval French Churches" could not possibly have been more apt if it tried -- with the possible exception of, say, a prerequisite in red hair. It's that level of fortuitousness!
The course is a collaborative effort, taught by a professor in the musicology department together with a professor from art history. Yesterday, they had all the students (maybe 25-30 of us total, me being easily the youngest -- without the two years of military service I am farther ahead in my advanced education at 24 than most Israelis are at 27 or so) introduce themselves, and say whether they are from the music side or the art side, whether they have studied any languages, what periods they're interested in and if they have experience with the Middle Ages. When they got to me, my response was "I studied both music and art history, I majored in French (as well as taking Spanish, Italian and German at varying levels of intensity), and as far as art history goes, I am primarily focused on the Middle Ages." Yeah, I'm pretty sure the class hates me. But the professors seemed pleased, so I guess that's what counts. Haha. The course is a year long, though, which is an entirely new experience for me, but I have high hopes for it -- and much as I never thought that I would say this, I have actually really missed being in school and it's nice to have one day a week where I'm a student again. :)
This is not the only development of mine that has been the result of a great deal of hoop-jumping, however. As of last Wednesday (a week ago today), 21 hours after I received in the mail my official release from the Israeli military (a chore in and of itself, involving multiple phone calls, endless phone menus, military beaurocracy, e-mails to the States, e-mails to the various military bases in Israel, e-mails to experts that bounced back, and finally the help of a friend who is currently enlisted who was able to accomplish in a half hour what I had been attempting to do for a month), I had an appointment at Tel Aviv's "Misrad HaKlita," or the Ministry of Immigrant Absorption. After a lot of human ping pong, again, in which I was bounced backwards and forwards from one office to another, I walked out with my official "Te'udat Zaka'ut," or my Certificate of Eligibility. It is a document that proves that I am an official returning citizen, who, after having spent most of my life outside of the state of Israel, has decided to return and am therefore entitled to certain benefits. The document itself looks like a passport, and is my ticket to various perks such as free tuition, health benefits and a tax break, among others. All in all, an important acquisition. My next step is the national insurance office.
In other news, while the job front has not progressed much, I have still started to get my name out there, and am beginning to build a network of connections in Tel Aviv. Aside from the community of both Israeli and American families who have come out of the woodwork seeking bilingual babysitters, I also visited a youth center with an after-school program for underprivileged teens, where I believe I will start volunteering once a week as the resident voice coach. My great uncle Reuven, the non-profit king, took me to visit there last week, and there is apparently a relatively high percentage of students who are interested in singing -- everything from traditional Israeli music at family functions to the Lea Michele groupies whose next big dream is their name in Broadway lights. There is a semi-functional piano at the center, so I am headed there for my first session on Thursday, to meet the interested students and see how I can help. I think my job there will boil down to a few private voice lessons a week, as well as maybe some group preparation around holidays and national events, when the center organizes parties, and in some cases, even a talent show or revue performance. All in all, it sounds very rewarding, and I can't wait to start!
It is funny, too, how one musical happening leads to another, however serendipitously. While my head was abuzz with thoughts of vocal pedagogy, I happened to stumble across a status update on facebook, posted by someone I haven't seen in six years. This man, by the name of Yisra'el, was in a production of Camelot with me in Jerusalem when my family was here the last time, right after I graduated from high school, through a company called JEST: Jerusalem English Speaking Theatre, which is where we met; and later that same year he had organized a hanukkah cabaret performance, in which I was a participant as well. This particular status update was a cry for male voices for a production of Kismet (appropriately) that is being produced right now in Jerusalem. I posted some impromptu facetious comment about being able to sing baritone if necessary (particularly right now, as I have been plagued with a very nasty cough), only to be immediately targeted by a message that said "Wait, you're in Israel?? Do you want to be in Kismet? How are you??"" (to which my response was "Yes! Yes! And fine!"). So last night, after my course at the university, I headed to a neighborhood in Jerusalem called Rehavia to crash the rehearsal and (symbolically, thanks to the cough) audition.
As well as Yisra'el, there was another girl there, involved in the show, who I haven't seen in six years. My friend Inbal, another Camelot survivor, three months older than me who I had gotten quite close with until she got married a month after Camelot closed and had two kids, making quality hanging out time slightly more complicated. I showed up at the rehearsal with my friend Ben, cantorial student and pillar of moral support (who, incidentally, got attacked as soon as he walked in the door and everyone learned that he is a male who can sing -- something I feel quite guilty about), and the first person to walk out of the rehearsal space was Inbal. We both shrieked and hugged each other, and I suddenly couldn't believe that so much time has passed since we last saw each other. It was a truly great moment that more than made up for the haphazard, disorganized atmosphere and crazy theatre vibes (all things that I dearly miss, mind you) that were bouncing ceaselessly around the rehearsal venue.
Anyway, I'm not entirely sure what happened, but two hours later I walked out of the hall with sheet music in my hand, choreography in my head, and -- apparently -- a part in the musical "Kismet." They rehearse three times a week, so mostly doable as far as the commute goes from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. It opens in about a month. I am quite excited, and as always, astounded by the ways in which theatre is able to find me, even in a place in which I know virtually no one. :)
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