That’s Yom Hazikaron-into-Yom Ha’atzmaut. The country is somber and slowly, as it gets to evening and nightfall the country comes alive. There is music, and partying and celebration. There have been flags out since right after Pessach, and people are walking around carrying flags, they’re waving out of cars.

This year I spent Yom Ha’atzmaut in Jerusalem. At night there are celebratory tefillot [prayer services] in many batei knesiyot [synagogues] and then I had a BBQ at my friends’ apartment and then went into town. There were three stages with three different performances going on—it was crazy! The best analogy I can give is New Year’s Eve in NYC. Packed with people, noise, security (OK, not quite the same, but still…), people dancing, partying, drinking, smoking. The buses run later than usual, but there is so much traffic and many streets are closed to traffic so people end up walking. There are so many people walking around, in the parks. There are fireworks until all hours, the streets are lit up.

On Yom Ha’atzmaut day you cannot walk anywhere without seeing at least five mangalim (barbecues). The air smells like a barbeque…because everyone is barbecuing. Israelis celebrate by barbecuing—you know the signs in the park that say it’s forbidden to have a open fire/BBQ/etc.? Those are just suggestions. Israelis barbecue all the time in the summer. But after each Independence Day (and other holidays), there are apparently many parks, such as Gan Sacker, where you see lots of circles of burned grass from mangalim gone awry. In Jerusalem there is also something called “The Living Museum” which is an afternoon-evening street fair where they have people in period costume walking around putting on short performances—scenes/reenactments—from when Israel was born and the events surrounding it. There are music and dance performances, food vendors, things like buses from when Israel was established…There are also other events going on all over the country—performances, concerts, gatherings. all over. And then there are fireworks to end the day.

It’s made all the more meaningful and feels like there’s more of an impact, because it’s immediately after Yom Hazikaron, the day when we have just mourned all those that were killed so we can celebrate this day, freely, as we want.

If you missed it, here is Part I of the article…

Memorial Day

In America, where I am originally from, Memorial Day is mostly celebrated with sales and BBQs, and it is the kickoff day, so to speak, of the summer. It means school will be out soon, beaches are opening up, and it’s time to get out the bathing suits and beach towels! In Israel, Memorial Day starts with a siren throughout the country at 8 pm. Things stop. I was on a not-so-large street and when the siren sounded, my friends and I got out of the car and stood during the siren. Before the siren started a bus pulled over and waited until the siren was over. It wasn’t only our car and that one bus that stopped. It was other cars, too, and other people standing.

After that I went to a ceremony in a popular neighborhood and it was eerie to walk down the street and see EVERYTHING closed. Restaurants, coffee bars, shops. The street was quiet. The ceremony I went to was packed. After the ceremony there was a shira b’tzibur – singing as a group in public. Everyone was sitting on the floor, the words were projected on a screen. It was folk songs, war songs. The radio plays these songs and everyone knows them. It was definitely an experience.

There was a second siren in the morning, at 11 am, and I was at Har Herzl for that one. There are government ceremonies for different days and memorial reasons. I went to a ceremony for the victims of terror where I carried a wreath up for Natan Sharansky to place on a stand. It was amazing to see, as I was walking up to Har Herzl (we couldn’t even get there by car, there was so much traffic) the number of people that there were. And when I got to Har Herzl there were people giving out flowers to place on the kvarot (graves), tehillim, Yizkor (“Remember”) stickers, booklets with Tehillim (Psalms) to say, and bottles of water for people to drink (it’s hot out).

There were people from all different backgrounds, in uniform, in plain clothes, carrying things…And at the graves there were soldiers and families and people who didn’t know those who died. Everyone knows someone, or knows someone who knows someone. In America, I can’t tell you a single name of a person who died so I could live in America. I know too many names, friends of, siblings, parents, grandparents of…here. These are people who died so I could live in Israel.

Up next: The contrast of Yom Haatzamaut (Independence Day)

This was my first Passover (Pesach) in Israel, and my first Pesach as an Israeli. One thing that separates Israel from the rest of the world is the number of days in the holiday. Outside of Israel there are 8 days to Passover, and in Israel there are 7—so there is one less holiday-day (called chag) than outside. As a new Israeli, the concept of having only one day of chag is a little weird, because it kind of feels like half of the holiday is missing. In a way it is, but it’s still odd to have only one day.

Another difference is that you have to check EVERYTHING for not only being kosher for Passover (Kasher l’Pesach, or abbreviated as “kashl“ap”), but also checking to see if it’s kosher for Passover for everyone, or only for those who eat Kitniyot (legumes and such, including rice, beans, and corn; Jews of Sefardi descent eat them, Jews of Ashkenazi descent don’t). There is a lot in Israel that is kosher for Pesach that may contain kitniyot, including drinks, snacks, even yogurt. Outside of Israel, especially in North America where I am from, things will generally not be on the kosher for Passover shelves if they have kitniyot in them, or they will be in a separate area. Here they’re very mixed in and you have to check things very, very carefully.

As far as the products—in Israel there is a law that chametz (leaven) products cannot be displayed for public sale. In North America, if you’re not in a kosher grocery store, then there is usually a part of the store sectioned for Passover products. In Israel, they drape plastic tablecloths over the non-kosher l’pesach areas and put a sign on them that says “chametz.” And anything else is kosher for Passover, however you have to check it for kitniyot.

And since it’s a national holiday, many people are off or take off from work and participate in the Israeli pastime of hiking and camping. The North is just starting to bloom, and many people go camping on the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) and in other areas of the Galilee and Golan (Ashley: to be honest, I wouldn’t recommend the Sea of Galilee during the holiday season…). Another popular spot is the Dead Sea. One other thing—the buses, at least the Jerusalem buses, alternate the route number and direction with “Chag kasher v’sameach”—“A kosher and happy holiday.”

Passover in Israel…nothing like it!

*Note: when I talk about fees and charges, they are about my bank specifically; I don’t know what the other banks charge, but based on what others have said, it seems like they pretty much have approximately the same fees.*

Israeli ATMs

There are two kinds of machines outside at the bank—one for money and one for information. The one for money only does transactions—you can’t check your balance, etc. The information one allows you to check your balance and print your statement, get a new password, etc. Also, you get a PIN number assigned to you and you can’t change it. Kind of annoying.

Israeli Bank Accounts

There are checking accounts and savings accounts, but as far as I understand, accounts don’t earn much interest here so it’s not so worth it to open a savings account as well. I only have a checking account, and I haven’t even attempted to open a savings account. When I opened my account, I opened it as an oleh chadash account, which means (at least in my bank) that they charge you half-fees for the first year within your aliyah. Other banks do different things for olim. There are also student and soldier accounts (being a student at ulpan does not entitle you to a student account) which also have different fees.

Israeli Banking Fees

Banks here charge you for EVERYTHING. First of all, there’s an account maintenance fee which varies with the bank, type of account, etc., and included in this are a certain number of transactions. An example using made-up and easy-to-figure numbers (but the fees are random numbers like 3.68 or 7.28 or something else odd): Your monthly account maintenance fee is 15 shekels per month. ATM fees are 3 shekels per transaction, deposit/withdrawal fees (including hora’at keva (see previous article about hora’at keva and tashlumim), paying for something with your ATM card (which is a debit card only, not a credit card) is 3 shekels per transaction (but if you use the ATM to make a deposit/withdrawal it’s one fee), transactions at tellers are 5 shekels. If you make 3 ATM transactions, 2 hora’at keva payments, and 1 teller transaction, that’s 9 shekels for the ATM transactions, 6 shekels for the hora’at keva payments, and 5 shekels for the teller transaction, which adds up to 20 shekels. The first 15 shekels cost was included in your account maintenance, so the bank takes out just the 5 shekels more. It’s ridiculous. What many people do is get a credit card (which usually has a small fee) and have hora’at keva payments put on that and use that card for purchases. That gets withdrawn once a month—so only one fee instead of each one individually.

Your Bank in Israel

You open an account at the Rechov X Branch of Bank Y. Bank Y has branches all over the country and you can use any ATM, but if you need to do certain things, like change your account details, type, add a person to the account, order checks, etc., you need to go to the Rechov X Branch. It doesn’t matter that you moved out of the city five years ago or whatever…if you want to close the account and open another, fine. But you can’t do every transaction at any branch of the bank. So…open it in a central location. Best advice I got about the banks.

For example, your health insurance/kupat cholim. Your phone bill. Your internet payment. Your electric bill. Your water bill. I think you get the idea. Pretty much the way things work here is that you need a credit card or bank account to do anything. Hora’at keva means that you give the company permission to deduct whatever you owe them straight from your bank account. Bank accounts also work differently here, but that is an entire separate post (probably the next one or so).

When you sign up for hora’at keva, it is automatically deducted from your bank account or charged to your credit card (again, more on bank accounts and credit cards later). For example, take my kupat cholim. I have the supplemental insurance and that’s taken out as hora’at keva. So the kupah takes out the 25-ish shekels every month. Then if you go to the doctor and they charge you (say for the visit or x-rays or something) they ask you, “Hora’at keva?” which would mean they take the fee straight from your bank account, or you can pay in cash.

When you sign up for hora’at keva, it seems very sketchy to Americans [sketchy to any non-Israeli! - Ashley]. You give your bank account info to a seemingly random person and sign a paper saying they can take money automatically. You have automatic payments in the US, but it seems so much less sketchy there. The trick to hora’at keva is remembering how much is automatically taken out of your bank account each month so you remember how much you have to have in there so you don’t go into overdraft.

Now, tashlumim. Tashlumim are installments. You can pay for pretty much everything in tashlumim. I went to the supermarket and with a bill of about 500 shekels, which is approximately 135 American dollars, was asked if I want to pay in tashlumim. So I would be paying for the groceries that I used three months down the road. Some things make sense—say, a car, where you don’t have the money all at once. Maybe furniture. A house. But not groceries. But that’s the way things go here. Tashlumim get turned into hora’at keva because they get deducted automatically for a certain amount of time. Personally I would not recommend doing these for things like groceries, but it’s really your individual call.

Next up: Banks!

Registering for Kupat Cholim

Israel has socialized medicine, which practically means that there are four health funds (kupot cholim; singular is kupat cholim) for Israelis to choose from. There is the sal briut which is the basic basket of services that all Israelis have. New immigrants—not returning minors or foreign citizen-immigrants—get the basic sal bruit for free from the government for 6 months. There is also supplemental insurance (bituach mashlim) which covers more things—medications, treatments, etc. This you have to pay for, the government does not give it to you for free, and each kupah has different plans.

The four health funds are Meuchedet, Maccabi, Clalit, and Leumit. Which one you choose is pretty much determined by where you live. You can belong to any one you choose, but you want one that’s accessible to you. You can also switch health funds every year by going to the post office and paying a fee of about 14.5 shekels (more on the post office and its role in Israeli society in a later post).

There are certain restrictions that the different health funds place on its members, such as you have to be member of the fund for a certain amount of time before xyz treatment. The supplemental plans are different for each kupah and cover different things, but the best thing to do is talk to people where you want to live and see what they recommend. Also, if you are taking any medications or have any medical conditions, check with the different kupot to find out if your medications, treatments, equipment, etc., are covered and to what degree (example: one medicine is not covered at all with the sal briut—the basic basket of services—but if you have supplemental insurance, it’s 50% covered in one kupah and 30% in another and 75% in another and 80% in another. But a piece of equipment is not covered at all in the first kupah, 100% covered in the second, 20% covered in the third, and 65% covered in the fourth. Or if you have the higher level supplemental plan it’s covered but if you have the lower level it’s not).

Once you have decided on your kupah, you go to the post office to sign up. You can’t do this until the day after you arrive because you’re not in the system yet (but you technically are covered even before you officially register). So you go to the post office with the voucher that you got from Misrad Haklita at the airport, pay a fee (I think it’s 14.5 shekels for each adult–child and get another paper that says you have registered to a specific health fund. You take that paper to your local branch of kupat cholim and finish your registration at the kupah and they give you a magnetic card right then, or send it to you in the mail. You can also sign up for the supplemental plans then.

Paying for these—the government gives you 6 months of the basic health basket for free, but the supplemental plans you pay for and you have to give the kupah your bank details so they can do hora’at keva, which is designated payments (more on these later) from your bank account.

We were told to get on the flight. So we did—there was no boarding according to groups, seats, rows—none of that. It was “Board when you get there.” So we did. I was with a couple of guys that I met while waiting on line and we took pictures along the way to the plane. And of the plane.

They grouped people by type—NBN staff, Israeli government officials, and press were up front, singles were next, followed by couples without children, and families were at the back of the plane. There were 81 singles on the flight (I didn’t count, they kept repeating it), and I was sitting near someone I know from high school and a couple of other people I met while waiting. The back of the plane actually looked like a playgroup– kids playing in the seats and aisles, snack wrappers, crayons, toys…  During the flight, people from Misrad Hapnim (Ministry of Interior) came around to people who had not done the paperwork earlier and did the paperwork then– checking your name, that all your info is correct. I tried to sleep but was not too successful.

And then we got to the landing.

Once we touched down, everyone clapped and “V’shavu Banim” and “Come Back” started playing from the speakers, and it was just…I think I was trying to figure out if I was officially Israeli from the time I landed or if I was Israeli from the time I got on the plane. It was…everyone clapped and people were videoing…and it was just…overwhelming and amazing and intense and happy and sad and pretty much on par with every other emotional moment involving my aliyah– very, very bittersweet.

The Welcome

We got off the plane– there were steps for us to go down. You know like the president comes off the plane on steps that pull up to the plane and he comes down and waves and all that? Yeah, that’s kind of what it was like. There were stairs for us to come down and I walked out the door, onto the little platform before the stairs, took a couple steps down and just stopped. I wanted to remember that moment forever. I didn’t take a picture, but it’s in my mind. Looking down, some people had already gotten out and were down the stairs, there were people on the stairs. I kind of felt like I was in a slow-motion or surreal sort of time warp. I got out of it, walked down the stairs, and then it hit me– “Wait, I’ve just made aliyah. I think this qualifies as a “shehecheyanu moment.” ["shehechayanu" is a blessing that is made on special occasions, such as holidays, new fruits, new clothing, etc.] Rabbi Fass (one of the founders and the head of Nefesh B’Nefesh) was at the bottom of the stairs. I turned to him and said, “Rabbi Fass? Do I make a shehechyanu?” He said, “You can.” I was so excited. I was making my first bracha (blessing) in Israel as an Israeli, and it was shehechyanu. How appropriate for such an occasion.

We took pictures in front of the plane and in groups, and then they bussed us over to the old terminal for the Welcome Ceremony. I had my own welcoming committee, and I got to see other people who came for other olim and to welcome the olim in general. There was someone with a giant shofar and, of course, more music was playing.

I got inside and was whelmed. Very whelmed. Exhausted and exhilarated too. I think I was in a daze/half asleep for most of the ceremony. The ceremony was long, a lot of people spoke, two people got their teudot oleh (new immigrant cards) on stage, and then the ceremony was over and the people who came on the NBN bus went back to Jerusalem and all the olim went to get our teudot oleh (well, one person from each family)– we went up some stairs, into a room, and then they called our names. We got our teudot, taxi vouchers, and first sal klita (immigration basket) payments. Then we went to get our luggage (eventually it all came through. There was a LOT of stuff), and to the taxis.

I had a taxi to myself which was nice. I did not want to have the “smush five people and all their stuff into one taxi” situation– thank goodness that didn’t happen. Got home, got all my stuff inside. And was just…whelmed.

Stay tuned for first step adventures—registering for kupat cholim (health fund), opening a bank account, getting a cell phone, and more!

I actually wasn’t quite sure when I became Israeli—when I got on the plane? When I landed? When I got my teudat oleh? It was confusing for a while, because I had my flight date and details, but I hadn’t actually made aliyah so was I an olah? I pretty much side-stepped the question by saying, “I’m making aliyah on the Dec. NBN 29 flight from JFK.” And they (NBN/ElAl/etc.) referred to us as olim once we got on that plane, so I think I became an olah once I got on the plane, but I’m not quite sure when I actually became Israeli. Confusing? Try it sometime—it won’t straighten things out at all.

So, the flight. I decided I wanted to go on an NBN flight because it makes the paperwork so much easier, you get to go with a whole planeful of people who are ALSO making aliyah so you’re all in this together and get to meet people who are also going to be LIVING IN ISRAEL (not just coming for a visit)! I also knew that I wanted to time my flight with Ulpan Etzion, so that made it a late December flight (aka “the winter flight”) or a late June/very early July flight. I went on the Winter flight, the last flight of 2009.

I don’t remember how many olim there were, but I know there were 81 singles (I didn’t actually count, they kept repeating it), the youngest oleh was 2 months (I think), and the oldest olah was 84 (again, I think). All the singles were together and there was tons of press floating around constantly during the flight, taking pictures, asking questions. Before the flight, at JFK, Misrad Hapnim (Ministry of Interior) representatives came around having people check the forms and changing their name if they wanted to (I kept my English name for my paperwork). If you hadn’t done it then, the representatives were also on the plane.

JFK:

NBN told us to get there at 9:30 am (the flight was scheduled to leave at 2 pm, I think). I did, and there were already people waiting. Everyone had tons of luggage (and pets), there were family members and friends…There was an area marked off for the flight and we were told to hang out there until they called us. Eventually they made an announcement to come up, get your ticket (if you were a family, one person from the family only), and go check in. I did. And then I went to check in. We were all given extra luggage allowance—weight, suitcase amounts, sizes…things were literally put on the scale, ticketed, and sent along. I don’t think weighing was a factor that was even considered.

After that, we hung around a bit with family and friends until the farewell ceremony started. We moved into another area of JFK where there was a huge cake and drinks, and a couple of speeches. Then came time to go to the security check-in…which meant we had to leave our families and friends. My parents, younger sister, and insanely talented and very close friend Chari Pere (charipere.com) were all there and they walked me to the checkpoint, and there were a lot of tears and hugs. Bittersweet.

I went through the security check-in (which was the best one I’ve gone through yet—I think it had something to do with me making aliyah…) and went to the gate where I met up with some people I met waiting on line. We sat at the gate for about 20 minutes waiting for boarding to start and then an ElAl rep comes over to us and goes, “What are you waiting for? Get on the plane!”

And we got on the plane.

…to be continued…

There is a lot that has to be done before you actually MAKE aliyah. There are applications to fill out, forms to give in, pictures to take, letters and proofs of…things (birth, residency, marriage/divorce if applicable, Jewishness). As you know, I went through an amazing organization called Nefesh B’Nefesh which literally means “Soul-in-Soul” (like hand-in-hand, except souls) which helped with the paperwork and the process. They have their own forms, which means more paperwork beforehand but the tradeoff for help with the Israeli end is so worth it. They really want your aliyah to succeed, so they make sure you are prepared as much as you can be. I hyper-plan anyway, so this worked out well.

I started my aliyah process early, about a year before I actually made aliyah, which gave me plenty of time to fill things out, get all the proofs and documents I needed, and make the preparations I could beforehand—getting set up for Ulpan Etzion, and getting my degree recognized (more on that later, because the Ministry of Education didn’t exactly do that correctly…) and really make sure that this was the right thing for me.

Before you actually get on the plane you have to go to NBN and/or a Jewish Agency (Sochnut Hayehudit) office to fill out an application and give in the proofs listed above. If you go through NBN, you have an online application to fill out which is very easy—you scan in your documents and upload them. Once all that is in, you wait, they get back to you, and then if you are approved, you get a visa (by the way, this is for olim chadashim; ezrach oleh, katin chozer, and toshav chozer are slightly different).

I’m not going to say this was all easy—it took me two or three tries to get the proof of Judaism letter right-because of the wording! And I had to find my high school report cards because I didn’t have tax papers and this and that. And then I took my pilot trip (after I had submitted my entry-exit Israel list, and another form I had needed to change). I looked into different places for work (I already knew where I wanted to live and go to Ulpan; I looked into that once I decided I was making aliyah and so many of my friends went to Ulpan Etzion, which is the “young professionals ulpan” in Jerusalem and now in Haifa as well) and talked to people about what might be available.

I did a lot of asking questions and talking to people about where they went to ulpan, budgeting, shopping, jobs, salaries, rents, etc. In talking to people, I found out that there are so many different options and that it’s almost impossible to plan everything before you get here.

Next up: My flight and starting life in Israel!

Hello all! I’m Lauren Gelnick. I’m an olah chadasha (new olah) from NY. I’m going to be taking over duties on the making aliyah desk, although Scott is going to write a column from time to time (come on, we have to hear about Petey and his progress!).

A little about me: I came to Israel on the December 30, 2009/13 Tevet 5770, Nefesh B’Nefesh (hereafter referred to as “NBN”) flight from JFK. Left 17 degree (Fahrenheit) weather for 70 degree (Fahrenheit) weather. Nice, no?

So how did I come to make aliyah? It was never in the plan. Really—when I was cleaning out old school papers, I found an English assignment from 12th grade entitled, “Seven Years From Now I Will Be…” I wrote that I was going to be a physical therapist living in Manhattan or somewhere else close to New York City, maybe married maybe not.

Israel? Nowhere on the page, literally.

I was raised in a home with Israel playing a very prominent part—Israeli music, pictures, my parents had volunteered and went to university in Israel, the schools I went to were Zionistic, and my parents had a very good friends who had made aliyah years ago, but aliyah was never something I planned on doing. I personally had never been to Israel until the day after my high-school graduation when I left to go on Birthright.

My Birthright trip, as everyone says, “was amazing.” I went in the Summer 2003, the day after my high school graduation. I sat on the plane to go back saying, “The plane can take off, I’m staying here.” Needless to say, the plane took off and did not leave my seat on the runway. I went back two and a half years later on a Jewish Impact Film program and one of the staff members asked me, “So you’re planning on making aliyah?” I’m still not quite sure where that came from, but I said, “No, I don’t think I could. I mean, maybe I could live here for two or three years, but I couldn’t leave my family.”

—Insert two years of occupational therapy (OT) school HERE—

I decided that after I finished OT school I wanted to go to Israel for a couple of months; I hadn’t been there for more than 10 days at a time, and I wanted to go spend more time there and not on a very structured program—really experience Israel and be a part of it, not just a tourist. In January 2008 went to a seminary for a few weeks and then volunteered with Magen David Adom (the Israeli Red Cross) through the Overseas Program for 2 months. When the two-ish months I was in Israel for were up, I came back to NY to take the National Board exam for occupational therapy…and booked my ticket back to Israel for May roughly the day or day after I got back to NY. I was in Israel again from May-June 2008, and sometime during that time I decided I was making aliyah.

I can’t explain it logically; on paper, there is no logical reason for me to leave NY: I had a good job making a good salary, I was financially stable, my family is there and most of my friends are around there, I’ve lived there my whole life, and things are in a language I know perfectly. In making aliyah Israel, I’ve exchanged a salary in dollars for almost the equivalent in shekels (roughly 3.7 shekels to the dollar, at least for the moment) in the same position, no longer financially stable as I have no income currently, my family and most of my friends are in NY, and my language skills are considerably lacking. But there’s something that can’t be quantified. It’s like a puzzle—sometimes you can smush a piece that doesn’t quite fit into a spot but it’s not quite right. And then when you find where that piece goes, it’s like—“aaaaaah…that’s right.” And that’s me now. It feels right here, it feels like home.

You’ll hear all about my life as an olah, starting with the pre-aliyah process of making aliyah, through the flight, getting my teudat zehut (ID card), dealing with Israeli bureaucracy, and more! Hang on…because I’m not quite sure where this is going!