Step-by-Step: Making Aliyah to Israel

Documenting the very personal process of making Aliyah (immigration to Israel) by one very atypical Israeli-American girl. Aliyah on 17, August, 2005. Roadmap: What do you mean there's no roadmap?! Hang on, we're in for a bumpy ride! Ole!

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Short post though I have tons of things I want to say and will eventually and tons of things I want to say but can't or rather won't; One thing I've learned, ahem today, is that you can't so much as spit in this country but everyone knows about it *grin*. So blogging about something is even worse --yeah, right, just go ahead and tell the world and never mind just this country. Though at this point I'm not sure why I'm being circumspect. I spat, so to speak, and ...:) <---hmmm maybe that should be a :( The one thing I will say is that the next time I spit, I will spit much better.

My big huge major news is "yesh li kesef." Yesh li mishkarah! I have money, I have a salary -wooooooooo!!! And it wasn't anything to sneeze at neither. Now I am that much more real with a real salary and real money sitting in the bank so that I can pay (yuck) real taxes like a real Israeli. Most importantly, I can now buy real food and pay off my real overdraft. But don't worry, like a real Israeli I will soon have again a real overdraft, especially after the upcoming family visit --oy in just like 2 1/2 weeks!

Other news that I deemed important prior to getting my "you are so real" credentials in the form of money: the bus to Be'er Sheva is way faster than the train. I learned this the hard way after so congratulating myself on actually getting to the train station a good 10 minutes early and then learning that there is a train to Be'er Sheva every single hour out of the day, er well until like 9 at night when they stop running, but otherwise every single hour except for one. That one being one o'clock in the afternoon. And that one, of course, being the one I needed to take. Complete and total panick and freak-out at the ticket counter when the woman finally got this news across to my unbelieving little brain. Is there a bus? I asked, desperation permeating my voice. Well, I knew there was a bus but where to get the bus..."yes," she says helpfully, "but not here." Ok, where? Shruuuuggggg. Next.

I raced out of the train station and grabbed a cab and fairly shrieked for him to take me to the central bus station. I had a meeting that I couldn't miss (and it turned out to be an awesome meeting as well and we are going to run an extremely kewl study together --I haven't been so excited about running a study in years!). Got there, found out I buy my ticket on the bus, found out where the bus was, had time to grab some bamba and a sufganiah (or berliner, as JFK once claimed to be and, if I keep eating these things I too will be able to claim that Ich bin ein Berliner, or maybe more appropriately, ani sufganiah) and to be extra healthy added in my accustomed diet coke and I was traveling. The bus took only an hour and 15 minutes and dropped me _right_ at the university. I arrived at my meeting only 2 minutes late. Huzzah!


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