I’m working on filling the kids’ baby books with notes about our life here, and came across these paragraphs from my letters to family and friends in the States:
We are nearing the one-year mark since making aliyah. Despite being very glad to live here, both rationally and Zionistically, my chief feeling at the end of this year of drastic change is fatigue. Most days are some combination of novelty, adventure, or frustration. This may sound like a wonderful thing, but it really is tiring after a year or so. Life in America for us had the familiarity of a lifetime of prior experience, and that tended to make days comfortable and even dull. Perhaps Canada would make a nice in-between place to live! While at the Toyota dealer in Jerusalem, Jonathan and I bumped into a former ulpan classmate of mine. Mikhail lived in Russia until he was 33, then moved to the U.S. for several decades, and made aliyah two years ago. He’s now in his early 60’s, I would guess. He asked how things are going and when I told him I’m tired after a year, he nodded knowingly. He explained that it takes five years to get used to life in a new country. He described how much of one’s “nervous energy” goes into mundane things like changing a lightbulb (where to buy them, how to ask for them, etc.), and said that lasts years. He also said it is useful to look at things one dislikes about one’s new country with an attitude of “I don’t understand this” rather than “I hate this” or “This is wrong.” I found his observations informative and validating.
Nonetheless, it will be utterly delicious to be back in the States again. Besides seeing family and friends, our top ten list of things we look forward to includes the following
1) eating Ricardo’s prime kosher meat, the like of which we have yet to see even in this Zionist Paradise;
2) reading signs with no Hebrew or Arabic on them;
3) shopping for things we can’t find here (Tom’s of Maine stuff, Keillor’s Dundee Three Fruits Marmalade, Yasou and Soy Vay salad dressings, plastic wrap that actually clings);
4) knitting stores that sell something other than acrylic or kippah yarn;
5) taking the kids to a merry-go-round;
6) Morningstar Farms fake bacon and sausage, cinnamon Life cereal, Lite Life fake bologna;
7) J.P. Licks ice cream (we get Ben and Jerry’s here, but we miss the experience of going to a real ice cream joint);
8) corn on the cob.
In the end, I couldn’t come up with ten things two years ago. But I probably could now (add red leaf lettuce, maple cream, and my mom’s homemade ice cream). The difference now for us is that we’ve found more things here that we’ll miss while we’re in America (fresh pita, creamy smooth hummus, ease of kosher shopping, the comforts of home), and much of the stress of our first year has abated. Things are no longer new for us, we’re settling into a permanent community in our own house, and we’re delighted with life in Efrat. Going back to the States for us (Monday, so plan on no new posts for nearly a month starting from then) is a bonus, a nice chance to reconnect with loved ones. We’re all dreading the flight, but our kids are great fliers, and hey–it’s only 19 hours in airports and on planes.
Lehitra’ot!
Shimshonit 
Squee!
Morningstar, yes!
I also miss Silk soymilk. Now, in truth, perhaps they do have such in this country. Perhaps they also have good cereals besides corn flakes (I love granola, muesli, Post Great Grains, etc.). But I don’t know, because my dorm has no fridge, so there’s no use in my even looking.
But I’m moving to Yeshivat Petah Tiqwa, where the students do get fridges! So we clearly see one additional way in which the Modern Orthodox are superior to the Hardalim. (Queue the “Jumping to Conclusions” scene from Office Space.)
I also miss the convenience of being able to get my laundry done for free and buying whatever food I want at the supermarket. But that’s more a function of living with my parents than it is of living in another country per se.
So far, the only things I really dislike about this country are:
(1) People using their personal utensils to take food out of the communal platter, and
(2) People announcing to you on a moment’s notice that some change has occurred in planning, or that you have a particular duty. We’re talking everything from picnic planners letting you handle raw chickens only to tell you afterwards that there’s no soap, to people telling you without prior notice that you have mess hall cleanup duty in five minutes.
And I’m sorry, but I do hate these aspects of this country. To my grave, I will teach my children: you do plan ahead, you do use soap, you do respect the difference between communal and personal platters (Joy Luck Club‘s soy sauce incident!).
But I agree with you on the “nervous energy” thing. Something as simple as wanting some of the yoghurt down the table, when I realize I don’t know the word for “yoghurt.” Every little thing you used to take for granted, and now you don’t know what to do. You’re sitting in the bathroom, see there’s no toilet paper, and then you realize you don’t know the word for that either.
Heather: Touche!
Michael: When in doubt with Hebrew, say the English word with a Hebrew accent. It doesn’t always work, but a surprising amount of the time it does. The worst you get is a puzzled expression.
In general about Israel, my neighbor in Beit Shemesh told me, “Expect nothing.” Then she corrected herself: “No, expect bad. Then when something good happens, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”