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. :)