Hey Guys,
It’s me, Elizabeth (aka Liz, Lizzy, Blum, Bula, Eblum, etc. etc.) Savetsky.
So for those of you who don’t know, Ira and I have decided to spend the next few months in Israel. Jerusalem to be exact. The German Colony to be exact exact.
So for those of you who don’t know, Ira and I have decided to spend the next few months in Israel. Jerusalem to be exact. The German Colony to be exact exact.
The night before we were supposed to leave (see “Getting There” for elaboration) I was having goodbye drinks with a couple of friends. They asked me the same question I have been asked since I first mentioned the idea of our Israel trip to anyone. “What exactly will you be doing there?” WELLLLLLLLLLL…the truth is I’m not entirely sure. Sure I want to travel the country, study some Torah, and hang out with Ira Bear, but the actual plan and itinerary for the next 3 months are rather uncharted for the most part. Being asked this question for the umpteenth time the night before our journey was to take place and still not having a clear answer struck a chord within the deepest depths of my neshama (soul, if you will). So, in a moment of potentially regrettable drink-induced narcissism, the idea for Lizrael was born. This way, I can let everyone know what I am up to here in The Holy Land as I figure it out for myself.
Why Israel? Why Now?
The idea began to develop in the summer of 2009, a few months before Ira and I were married. We were sitting around one Saturday afternoon wallowing in a cloud of miserable stress and self-pity. Ira was just starting his third year med school rotations and I had just begrudgingly reentered grad school at Penn. (I had dropped out for about six weeks before eventually guilting myself back in.) We were stressed with wedding planning and bored with the monotony of our lives as students in Philadelphia (no offense my Philly friends). We were desperate for an escape, even a temporary escape. As a joke, Ira suggested we put everything on pause, and spend our first year of marriage in Israel. We both thought the idea was insane, but for some reason we could not stop talking about it. It would be like a spiritual adventure—a year-long honeymoon. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to spend some quality time with each other and grow together religiously as we began to build our home as newlyweds. On a lazier note, we also both agreed that Israel is the one place in the world that you can do absolutely nothing and still fill your days and feel productive. Anyone share my sentiments?
However, after speaking with our parents, and giving it some thought we came back to reality. We both knew it would not be the smartest thing to take an entire year off, as we already have a negative income and should try not to prolong our financial state (or lack there of). After much deliberation and research we decided to spend a portion of Ira’s fourth year in Israel, right after I wrapped up my grad school studies. And here we are. The time has finally come.
Getting There
We had to wait until Ira scheduled all of his residency interviews across the country until we booked our flights to Israel. We spent all of December and January traveling around like chickens without heads. Actually, that’s a lie. Ira was a chicken with no head. I was on vacation. But still, we were all over the place, living out of suitcases for over 3 weeks at a time and barely getting to actually see each other. (Sidenote: This was extra stressful for me because I am the worst packer known to man. I get anxiety weeks ahead of time thinking about what to bring. I always pack in outfits, trying on every piece, including accessories and I usually end up wearing NONE of them. Additionally, I am a terrible folder; in high school, I was nearly fired from Banana Republic for my shortcomings.) We had not been together for nearly six weekends in a row due to Ira’s interview schedule. Needless to say, we were both anxiously awaiting some quality time. The only thing that carried us through those times apart was knowing that our three months in Israel was just around the corner. We looked forward to Wednesday January 26th, our date of departure, with the same excitement and anticipation as children going to Disney World.
So we returned from Miami on January 23rd and on January 24th I decided to try to pack everything I owned to take to Eretz Yisroel. I mean…three months is a long time, guys. And then I came to my senses (sort of) and took out about half it. (If my mom had been present, she would have had me carrying on a small roller board by the end of it…I did not inherit the efficiency gene. However, in my defense, Ira’s definition of “packing light” includes nothing short of 27 shirts.) Even after removing half of my stuff, I still had a minor nervous breakdown about fitting everything into the two suitcases that I thought I was allotted with my British Airways ticket. Fortunately, my dear friend Rachel came over and saved the day, helping me squeeze in every last thing. We even thought I might have been just under the required 50-pound limit.
So Ira and I were all packed and ready…AND THEN…news of the storm broke. The weather forecast suggested a terrible blizzard would hit just as our plane was scheduled to take off. We waited and waited and our flight was still “on time.” Soooo we headed to the airport…with 8 bags in tow…not including my purse. 4 to be checked and 4 to carry on.
As we checked in, everything seemed to be going smoothly. We put our bags on the scale (which was in kilos mind you) and the British Airways ticketing agent said nothing, but simply put the tracking labels on them…first to London and the to Tel Aviv…and sent the 4 bags on their way on the conveyer belt. We thought, “Phew we’re in the clear with the weight!” The agent then looks at Ira with a stone cold glare and dryly says, “And how would you like to pay for your EXCESS today?”
The first thought that came to mind, was MY EXCESS, hmmm…which excess exactly? I mean, he didn’t specify. Can I pay for my emotional baggage excess too? I do happen to have a lot of issues--my excess anxiety, my excess over-analysis of things out of my control (i.e. JUPITER), etc.
The agent looked at Ira and said, “That will be $280. How would you like to pay?” OY VEY! Well, nobody told me that now you only get ONE free bag for international travel. SO that is $60 extra for each additional bag, not to mention the overweight charges. Who can live out of ONE suitcase for three-months?
And now I know that Israel is a country that doesn’t believe in high heels, but I’m a girl who doesn’t believe in flats, so I am going to need to have some OPTIONS people!
After all of that, we made it to the gate, boarded the plane, and taxied out to the runway. And
then we waited and we waited and we waited. After three hours and what felt like 1,000 feet of ice and snow falling from the sky, the pilot announced in his charming British accent, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the weather conditions do not seem to be improving. Unfortunately this flight must be terminated.”
Well, we were told we would be getting our bags back. After another hour of waiting we did not get the bags, so we decided to climb into the 75-person deep line of people waiting for taxis in what was one of the worst snowstorms I’ve witnessed since residing in the northeast.
And then the most amazing thing happened. It was like a Greek god pulled up on his golden chariot to whisk us away. His name was Tom and he was a Vietnamese cabdriver with chains on his tires and an affinity for icy bridges. Without Tom, Ira and I would probably not be alive today. Everyone in Philly should message me so I can give you Tom’s number. He will save your life too. We even had him take us to the airport again on Sunday.
The rest of the night and next morning is quite a blur. I do remember waking up and being quite confused about where I was. Afterall, I was supposed to either be on an airplane or in Jerusalem. Well, I must have fallen asleep with the TV on because when I woke up there was an infomercial playing that was advertising an Amish-made electric fireplace. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the whole thing with the Amish, that they DON’T use electricity? This would be kind of like a Jew opening a pork sandwich restaurant. Which is funny, because there is actually a Jewish guy who lives on our hall who did just that. I guess business is business. Anyway, with all that snow piling up outside the window, that fireplace looked amazing and I was tempted to call and order one.
We spent the weekend in Philly and arrived at the airport again Sunday evening for our second attempt at our travels.
