[img]96|left|||no_popup[/img]Dateline Jerusalem – As my trip to the U.S. is coming to an end, I have mixed emotions. I am anxious to return to my home in Israel next week to celebrate my fifth anniversary as a new immigrant in the country of my ancestors. On the other hand, I am saddened that I must do so alone since my family lives over 7500 miles away from me, 15 1/2 hours via a non-stop flight from Los Angeles to Tel Aviv. Much to my amazement, I have learned more of the Hebrew language visiting the U.S. this trip than I did during the last five years in Israel. Perhaps it is because my ears are attuned to that special guttural accent unique to Israelis who seem to speak slower in the U.S. than they do in Israel. It is as though I yearn to be around Israelis and hear them speak when I visit the States.
My knowledge of Hebrew is almost non-existent because I am surrounded by Americans and other English-speaking friends in my Israeli community. Other than in synagogue, English is spoken most of the time. One reason I chose to live in Rehovot, Israel, is because of the high percentage of English speakers and the number of Anglos living in the city. Even when I first arrived in Israel, I only worked for American companies. I did not avail myself of the five-hour, five days a week, five-month Ulpan language school because I had a job almost upon arrival. That meant no time to learn Hebrew. My excuse always has been that at my age, even if I had finished the intensive Ulpan, I still would be illiterate. At least that is what I was told when I made plans to move to Israel.
Although the national languages of the country are Hebrew and Arabic, English is taught from elementary school on. Street signs are in all three languages, even though the English spelling of the street changes, depending on which corner a person might be standing. Most restaurants have an English menu, although often the words are spelled incorrectly. Most Israelis understand English but commonly are afraid to speak it, and they have difficulty writing it. I can relate. I am able to understand some Hebrew, even read some despite my lack of vocabulary. But I cannot speak it at all. When I try to say something in Hebrew, my pronunciation is so bad Israelis practically beg me to speak in English so that I do not butcher the beautiful Hebrew language.
It is hard to believe that five years ago I made a decision to make aliyah (literally, “ascent” or “going up,” but usually referred to as the immigration of Jews to the Land of Israel). No one thought I would last three months, definitely not a year. Now, to the amazement of family and friends, and to my shock, I am still in Israel. To be honest, I am not shocked. I have yearned to be in Israel since my first visit in 1979 when I landed, touched the ground, and got shivers from head to toe, goosebumps on my arms, tears in my eyes. I knew I was home, the home of my ancestors. How could I not remain in this special country where the presence of G-d is felt wherever I go?
Israel has something for everyone who visits, no matter their ethnicity or religion. Perhaps that is why visitors in record numbers flock to Israel from all parts of the world. Most people continue to come even when parts of Israel are being bombarded by rockets and missiles. In this last week, more than 50 rockets hit Southern Israel within a three-day span of time. Ceasefires mean nothing. They tend to be unilateral on the part of Israel. Palestinians only use the ceasefires to re-arm while their people continue to lob rockets, missiles and mortars into Israel, just not as many as when there is no ceasefire.
I am looking forward to my return to Israel. But I will miss my family here in the States.
L'hitraot. Shachar
