All the way from Akune: February 2010

Hello all and a long overdue happy new year.

I have been in transit for over a month. It all started with my 700 a.m. bus ride to Kagoshima airport on the morning of December 24th. That bus ride became the first two hours of what would end up being a 34-hour day of traveling. Two buses, three planes and a nesher (shared taxi cab) later, I reached my destination, the Machon Ya’akov Yeshiva in Har Nof, Jerusalem, at 300 a.m. That is where I met the first of three new brothers, Ronnie. I was escorted to the top floor of the yeshiva and into a room where I finally stopped moving and started sleeping. It was a joy to be back in Israel.

The next two weeks in Israel were phenomenal. It had been nearly six months since I had seen my parents and almost two years since I had seen my Uncles and Aunts. Needless to say, I was excited to reunite and rejoice with my family. Despite the high tensions that any family experiences before a wedding, I was calmed by the presence of my family and pleasantly stimulated by the sights, sounds and smells of Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem.

Having just spent a solid 5 months Japan, I was confronted with certain aspects of Israeli society that just did not compute. As I rode in my Uncle Marshal’s car, walked down the narrow passage ways of markets and soaked up the atmosphere of restaurants I was constantly asking myself questions: Why don’t Israelis wait in line? Why is everyone so loud? And how on Earth do you think I could possibly eat this enormous portion of food you just served me without the slightest trace of a smile on your face? I was a victim of Israeli culture shock. Luckily it was a long awaited, exciting and delicious culture shock.

After spending a few days in Tel Aviv with Uncle Marsh, the family moved camp to Jerusalem. From our centrally located hotel at the top of Ben Yehudah street, my parents and I spent the few days before the wedding touring the Old City, shopping at the market, a truly thrilling experience in itself, and thoroughly enjoying the hotel breakfast. It was a special time that I shared with my parents, for two reasons. First, I had not seen them in a long time so there was a lot of catching up to do. Also, it was both my parents and my second time in Israel. That was something I thought was unique about this past trip.

I was personally thrilled at the opportunity to come back to Israel and not be tethered to the strict time schedule of a Birthright-Israel tour. I loved my Birthright trip, believe me, but this time I was free of the long bus rides, the amorous atmosphere of the hotel stays and Long Island Jews who were always late to get back on the bus. I finally had the time to sit down and soak up the atmosphere, rather than take as many pictures as I could before joining the herd back on the bus. In the few days before the wedding I was able to get to know the Ben Yehuda neighborhood, the Market and meet Chloe’s friends from Neve Yrushalayim, my friend Becca from high school and, of course, Yehuda and his family.

“OK, Ash. Let’s go to Chloe’s wedding.”
This is what my Dad said as he and I walked out of our third floor hotel room dressed in black suits with matching white pocket squares and pitch black kippot. I am surprised that my kippa stayed on the whole night considering how much and wildly I danced. How could I not? It was my sister’s wedding. Chloe was such a beautiful bride. I remember taking pictures with her right before the wedding. There were children standing right beside us, children who had never seen a bride before. I hope they know how lucky they were to have been able to seen my sister. She was absolutely stunning and Yehuda, with his pearl white tie and crisp black hat, was as sharp as he could have been.

Having not seen each other for a week before the wedding ceremony, the moment when Yehuda came to see Chloe at the beginning of the ceremony sent tears streaming down their faces, right past their enormous smiles. I was put at ease by the extremely high emotions of the wedding. The crowded chuppah, the resonating tones of the Rabbis blessing and the rambunctious dancing were each as soothing as they were awe-inspiring. It was an unforgettable wedding. Oh, the simcha.

I was glad the buzz from the wedding lasted as long as it did or else I don’t think I would have been able to survive my 48-hour trip home including a ten-hour in Rome on the way. When I arrived in Fumicino airport I went straight to the central train station and hoped on a tour bus and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of nostalgia from my Birthright days wash over me. I had a limited amount of time to soak up the centuries of art, architecture, fashion and gelato that Rome has to offer. For how meager my time was in Italy I will remember many things about Rome: the tour buses are awesome; the neck ties are bright, silk and not that expensive; the espresso is to die for and cheap; the fountains are extravagant; the Jewish quarter is staggeringly beautiful; the kosher restaurants are underwhelming; and if you hold your camera up in the air, close your eyes and shoot you will get a great shot.

My return to Akune was comforting. It was a relief to be back home in the countryside. However, I only had a few days to shake my jetlag and readjust to the rhythm of the city before I had to help Laura, my very first and long awaited visitor from the West, do the same. Laura was a (slightly cold) trooper for the whole trip. I did my best to show her all that Akune has to offer in terms of sights, good eats, long walks in the mountains and through the neighborhoods of my schools. I even had the privilege to introduce Laura to one of my favourite schools in the mountains (of which there are only two and they are both my favourite). On two of the three weekends that Laura was in Kagoshima we took a trip to Kagoshima city to get a feel of the big city, a look at an art museum, a taste of Indian food and a Japanese business hotel experience.

It has been a slow weekend and a cold one at that. Having heard from a number of Akune natives, this winter has been especially frigid. Luckily the Captain has spent numerous days doing hard manual to make his very own 竹火バー (Bamboo fire pit/bar) in his own backyard. Thanks to the Captain and his devotion to thrive as a macho man should-outside, huddled around a roaring fire, grilling fish, eating Dutch oven-cooked meals and drinking booze out of bamboo cups-I have spent a warm weekend in an otherwise cold countryside. Reflecting on my wintry woes I am reminded of this Japanese proverb:

冬来たりなば春遠からじ (fuyukitarinaba harutookaraji)
When winter is at its worst, can spring be far behind?

Until next time.

I am not hitting this woman, I am just making mochi (pounded rice cakes) for the new year. Check it out . . .

See? Harmless, delicious mochi with anko (bean paste) filling, still warm.

There is something about the sunset over the Mediterranean that is more vibrant than anywhere else in the world. You should have seen the sunset in Jerusalem at Shabbat.

Smoked saba (mackerel) in Shuk ha'Carmel (Carmel Market) in Tel-Aviv. This fish was so succulent, I had to buy some. I ended up buying too much, oops.