A Mossad situation
Because nobody's ever questioned me about my involvement with Israel's top-secret spy agency, the Mossad, I'm now ready and willing to talk.
It all began while I was still living in Toronto and planning my escape to Israel. One day I stumbled upon an advert in a national Canadian newspaper inviting people to join the Mossad by applying via their new website. Yeah, I was also very surprised to discover the rather unclassified ad. Anyhow, I applied but hadn't heard back from them by the time I had left for Israel to make Aliyup. This, incidentally, would be my second attempt at settling successfully in Israel. My very own "Second Aliyah" if you will.
Comments (10)The non-accent
When I made aliyah, I didn't give my accent very much thought. I have a near-perfect Israeli accent when I speak Hebrew, which, I have learned, is both a blessing and a curse.
When I go out with other olim chadashim [new immigrants], they're all sure that Israeli vendors are trying to rip us off. As we approach booths in the shuk [market] or at the Nachalat Binyamin art fair, my friends' voices drop to hushed tones.
"Ask him, in Hebrew, how much the necklace costs," someone will whisper, then stand hunched behind me, listening for an answer and hissing demands as I try to negotiate the price.
Life as a Jewsician
Some folks make aliyah for religious reasons, others for nationalist reasons. And then there are songwriters like me who come to Israel for no apparent reason, and decide to stay, until they're asked to leave.
Being the wandering Jewsician that I am, I've recorded in a number of major studios in Toronto, Montreal and New York. But there's no place like Tel Aviv for making music as I, an immigrant from Canada, was aboot to find oot. (So like that's how they speak in the Old Country, eh?)
The landing
The blood dripping from my nose tasted salty and I wondered if that's the way blood always tasted or if I had some leftover airplane peanut shells on my upper lip. I had just emerged from a 13-hour aliyah flight full of religious people singing, rebellious babies crying, and redundant Israeli immigration workers questioning my reasons for making aliyah. Nonetheless, it was a welcome return to the land of my forefathers and four mothers when we rejoiced in song and cheers as the wheels of the 747 touched-down.
On the tarmac at Ben Gurion Airport I felt like an exiled former dictator returning home on the same plane as a returning Eurovision champion. Flowers, cheering crowds, and a spread of sandwiches were waiting on the runway, but no-one was really there to see me. The plane evacuated in a mob of head-covered humanity eager to reunite with their loved ones and tuna baguettes.
Jerusalem, it's a heck of a town
When I see artists painting the same stone arches and cobblestone streets that I walk through every day, I think to myself, "Jerusalem, it's a heck of a town."
When I walk into Jaffa Gate, and I'm not the least bit surprised to see a camel sitting there, or someone playing sitar, guitar, or harp. When I see the policemen riding in the ancient streets on six-feet-tall horses and imagine that it must not have looked too different here three thousand years ago, I think to myself, "Jerusalem, it's a heck of a town."
Faking aliyah
When I first 'made' aliyah way back in 1992, I didn't even know what the word aliyah meant, let alone how to pronounce it (a-LEE-ya? a-LIE-ya? Eliza?)
The truth is, I didn't come to Israel for any Zionist reasons - another term I was unfamiliar with, although I did hear somewhere that it's the same as racism. Funny, I thought racism was a bad thing. In fact, I was merely bent on getting the heck out of Quebec, Canada where Anglos were deemed too un-French - particularly by the province's "French Language Police" - and encouraged to leave their native land SVP ASAP. The Indians, oops, I mean 'Aboriginal' people, oops, I mean 'First People of Canada' were welcome to stay, albeit with some reservations, merci beaucoup. And what a beau coup it was.
Joshua and the walls of...Ra'anana
My final two weeks in South Africa proved mostly depressing. Goodbyes are not something I am particularly good at (why do they call it a "good" bye anyway? It's only good if you don't like the person and then why would you bother to be polite enough to say goodbye at any rate?) nor are they something I enjoy. I spent my last week in Cape Town, my second last in South Africa, saying goodbye to people I love and cherish.
Packing my bags was also difficult. Not only did it take me three days to pack, repack and repack again (I still managed to forget some things), my "life" or at least my things managed to fit into two bags. How depressing is that?!
Dalia Itzik, a dodgy clutch and the greatest story not yet told
So this is my final blog entry and I've been sat in front of my laptop for more than an hour trying to work out where to start and how to try and describe how I feel.
I am currently sitting here in on my balcony in Herzliya having just had the most unique few days of my life and looking ahead to my future in a country I can wholeheartedly call home. I've always thought that language, though often beautiful, can sometimes do little justice to convey a feeling or an emotion. Therefore, I'll give you a run through of all that has happened since we left Eilat on Tuesday morning and the experiences that will stay with me forever.
The overwhelming arrival
This is my final blog entry of this 'Making Aliyah' series. Yaniv and I have written separate entries for this final blog posting, which may give you the chance to compare and contrast how we each describe the events of the past few days (for those who are that way inclined).
I wrote my previous blog entry from Eilat on Monday evening, on the eve of our planned journey north from Eilat to Hertzliya, via Sensana and Latrun.
Here to stay
It's been a world-wind journey over the past few days.
The feeling of being an 'Oleh Chadash' is not going to sink in for a while, and certainly will not until the Rally is over in a few days time. Having said that, there's an immediate affinity that I do feel to my surroundings and with the people we meet and talk to along the way. And even on the simplest level, following road signs written in Ivrit after travelling so far and seeing signs in so many other languages has a nice feeling.
I've been an Oleh for a little over 24 hours, and I'm not sure there are many Olim who have started off their stay in Israel as we have. We have a jam-packed schedule until the finale on Wednesday, so I'll just tell you a little about what we've done so far.
About this blog Making Aliyah
Aliyah stories and observations from our readers and contributors. Everyone is welcome to send by clicking here.
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