No Hair Raising News Here, Thank Goodness

I walked down Canada Gardens a little after eight o'clock this morning. I heard crows and pigeons, but no songbirds. Perhaps the songbirds only sing at dawn and sunset. The sky was a little overcast and there was a lazy breeze.

Arlan and I met and sat at opposite ends of a bench and chatted. There were lots of cute dogs out for walks. We were particularly charmed by a happy, brown and white, furry fellow who was smelling everything! We said "Shalom" to his owner, who explained that the doggy had been inside too long and was full of energy.

Arlan instructed me in pairing my phone with the earbuds he had given me two days ago. No luck. (If I touch technology, you can be sure it won't work.)

Afterward, we each did our shopping. I found apple-filled pastries at the bakery and matza at the grocery shop. They let me open a giant, Sefardi-family-size box and take a single packet of sixteen matzot.

Grocery store employees have been taking too many risks for us. I was pleased to see one of the stockers was wearing a dental assistant mask: a big, plastic face plate depending from a headband. Unfortunately, she was the only employee using that level of protection. The cashier bare-handedly gave me my change.

Before I had gone into the bakery, I saw a parrot and a dog sitting by a man on a bench. When I left the little shopping area, the man was wearing tallit and tefillin, and holding a siddur. (He's a lefty.)

Davenning solo with parrot and puppy

After I came home, I did laundry, and hung it on the rack in my open doorway to dry. I was glad to have the door open; it was a warm day and my mazgan isn't working. I also tried to sweeten strawberries with vinegar and two tiny packets of sugar; I need to buy more sugar tomorrow.

Shiputzim (remodeling) continues somewhere in the building. The constant hammering of a drill on cement blocks... it should be the theme song of Israel.

I wrote my keywords for the fourteen Pentacle cards in the little book that Carolyne had given me after my first surgery, then called it a day. It seems there's plenty of time-- knock on wood-- to write down the rest.

Ran (Ronen?), the volunteer who helps olim, called me about applying for unemployment. He said I should have received an email if the Dan Hotel applied for me; I had not. I texted my boss, Ayoub, and then tried to get into the website of Btuach Leumi (more or less equivalent to U.S. Social Security).

Nothing enrages me like automated phone lines and Israeli websites. I got over it, but unfortunately, now all my neighbors on the fifth floor know that think Israel is one of those countries Trump infamously referred to. My door was wide open as I did an excellent imitation of my father.

Ayoub returned my text and said I'm not eligible for either program. (So why, I wonder, did The Dan have me break the earlier, less strict lock-down to pick up forms from Damien?)

I did finally get onto the site. It turns out that Btuach Leumi is still paying me disability! It was supposed to have dropped to 30% in March and stopped before April. That's one of the reasons I started working in February. (When they figure out I've working, there may be hell to pay... I'll save that worry for another day.)

After that episode, I moved everything else that was on today's scheduled to other days of the week, and watched a few more YouTube videos while eating and drinking a beer.

Oddly, I didn't need a nap this afternoon.

Again, it was a beautiful evening. The hills, the slanting light, the breeze, the sense of being close to both earth and sky: wonderful. A couple was sitting on one of the structures in the archaeological site at the top of one hill.

There were, at first, no cats out by our recycling bins near my building, but I left some food there. A police car, flashing its lights, turned up the short street to Harim Road and then left onto Harim. I heard the policeman say, over a loudspeaker, "Go home," but I couldn't see the people they were talking to-- the couple at the top of the hill didn't budge or seem at all concerned.

I fed cats at the trash cans to the north (on the other side of the outdoor gym), crossed the street and fed a few more along the first steps down into Canada Gardens, and behind the bus stop that's also across the street, east of my building.

As I was crossing the street back to my place, another police card with flashing lights drove by. I just realized now that I crossed right in front of it, not in a crosswalk, with nearly complete insouciance. I have apparently been in Israel too long.

I circled around the two buildings in my complex on my now regular route. There are two trash containers and a construction-waste container. I focus on putting food behind those, so that no grouchy humans will see and complain.

Many of the cats recognize me now. One is very, very sick, with a scraped bloody nose, scratches all around her eyes, and matted, white fur. Someone else is putting food and water out for her. Alessandra would find a way to get near her and get her to a vet, but I feel helpless and useless.

Kids were playing,--probably football (soccer)-- on one of the hills. They actually seemed to be keeping a safe distance from one another.

Back home, I watched Israeli news in English (i24 News) on the television in my new place. The situation is serious, but Israel is in better shape and handling things better than many countries. There are drive through testing sites in Bnei Barak, Haifa, Tel Aviv, and Jerusalem. The IDF is being trained to deal with civilians. (I read later that Home Front Command is manning call centers to answer questions from members of ultra-Orthodox communities that initially ignored or were unaware of lock-down directives.)

There was also news from New York City, where Governor Cuomo is begging medical professionals from other states to come help. Jessica says that in Oregon leaving home is a Class C misdemeanor, but that the police aren't enforcing it. Later, I saw a YouTube video about enforcement in the UK; it did not reflect well on British bobbies.

I feel I'm safer, from both the virus and from totalitarianism, in Israel than I'd be anywhere else. Hopefully, I will be able to read that statement someday and nod, "Yes, I was."

Below is a heart breaking video of Eilat that John sent me. I don't understand much of the song. One phrase is "All the prayers..."

I was so sad when I saw the piano on the tayelet (boardwalk) that Arlan played just a few weeks ago.

Wide-eyed and Dazed

I went to the outdoor gym this morning. I was inspired not just by lockdown. The elevator of my new building has a full-length mirror and, yesterday, I was horrified to notice that I look like a slovenly, middle-aged woman. None of the clothes shops are open now, if I even enjoyed clothes shopping. Exercise is my only option.

I considered taking the stairs down, instead of the elevator (for health reasons, not vanity), but it seems that even in better neighborhoods, Israelis take no pride in their surroundings. Never mind the kids' bikes, why does the Va'ad not clear out the door and bed frame? It has been like that since I moved in 12 days ago.

It was beautiful outside at 10:30. I took a couple of pictures after I crossed the street to the gym, but then put my phone away. There's no point in wearing gloves if you're going to play with your phone.

The machines are actually very good and I also stretched out the night's stiffness.

A man came to work out, too. He asked if we were allowed to be there. I had been wondering that myself, and told him I didn't know. (This evening, the gym was cordoned off, so I guess the answer is, "No.")

I missed a call from Ichilov Hospital while I was at the gym. They were probably wondering why I'd missed my oncology appointment. Listen to your voice messages! I told you I live in Eilat and can't leave the city! Hey, I was lucky that I even got through to voice mail; that was the first time I've gotten through in the two years I've been dealing with them.

It was another unproductive day. I exchanged text messages, read Facebook posts, and scrolled through headlines on my news feed. I texted Damien and said I'd pick up the Passover bonus from him after lock-down is over. One article someone posted lead me to amputate my fingernails; that may have been most productive moment of the day other than cleaning three rugs. Strangely, I still have tons of unread email messages.

Most of the day, I felt dazed and every limb and muscle felt weighed down. The black circles around my vacant eyes seem to say that I haven't slept in weeks. But I have slept, and pretty well, too.

Today, I was scheduled to fly out of Ramon Airport to visit my friend, Maya, and her family in St. Petersburg.

I didn't have internet when I first moved, so I couldn't cancel my flight reservations. Today, Maya took it upon herself to try to get me a refund or to reschedule my flights. She spent hours working on it! I was so grateful she wanted to do that for me. After she gathered all the info from several different airlines, there was a technical issue on the website, but a few minutes later received a refund receipt via email.

Thankfully, Maya had not purchased opera or theater tickets that would go to waste.

Gosh! I'm still really excited about visiting!! Knock on wood that it will happen.

My calendar had instructed me to go online and apply for unemployment (in Hebrew) this morning, but I couldn't find the energy. I decided to go outside for a short walk, but sat half dressed in front of my laptop for an hour.

I ate lunch, considered studying Hebrew, and then took a nap. (All while Maya was working fervently on my behalf.)

At some point during the day, I brought my altar out of the closet. I mean that literally. I'd set it up in a cupboard since there was space in there at eye level and because I'd thought a small studio apartment would look neater with fewer things out.

I felt better after putting it out on the kitchen counter.

Altar and... disposable gloves...

When I finally went outside, at 6 p.m., I was astounded by the views. The hills made me feel both grounded and hundred times lighter.  These are the hills in which I hunted for rocks with Arlan after my first session with my online counsellor. She had instructed me to get in touch with the land, because I didn't feel connected to Eilat. I still have the first rock that Arlan found; it's the reddish pyramid-shaped item in front of the kiddush cup on my altar.

Cats ran to me this evening! They were still skittish when I came close to put food down, but they know who I am and there are many more of them.

Passover prep has begun for most people. They haven't let lock-down discourage them from the exertion of Passover cleaning. In Israel, that means abandoning dishes, furniture, and other valuables near the trash. I saw some men come by in a large cab to take an entire set of white living-room furniture. Unfortunately, the end tables wouldn't fit in the van, too. The cab driver sounded annoyed that they were still trying to put more in the van.

I took the much lighter cat food bag upstairs, changed gloves, and grabbed my phone and wallet for a walk through Canada Gardens to the market.

The light wasn't as good by that time, but here are some of the shots I took before shopping at the store. (There are quite a few cats at the top of Canada Gardens; I'll have to add that area to my evening walk.)

Zoomed in view of archaeological site from
one entrance of my building

The gym to the north is definitely closed

Beautiful clouds behind the hills in the west

The top of Canada Gardens, east of and below my building

The top of Canada Gardens
(Yay, Montreal!)

Socially distanced mincha/maariv minyan at
the shul, just below the first playground

Girl and dog

The store was not crowded at 7. I texted Arlan, hoping to see him, but we missed each other.

There was no matza in stock yet. I considered carrying a bag of cat food home; the one I purchased just two (?) days ago is more than half gone. I think I'll call DagiDog and have them deliver a large bag. I'd like to support Limor's shop on Sderot HaTmarim, as she helps stray animals in the Yealim neighborhood.

Oddly, I purchased two food I've eschewed for since the new (secular) year: Jello and Yoplait Strawberry Yogurt. For eight months after my surgeries, they were the only foods I could eat. Now they seem like comfort food, perhaps because I survived that time?

John had tried to call me while I was shopping. He found someone who helps with "assimilation issues." (Funny how there are more helpful Israelis during a crisis.) He asked him for help with the unemployment website. John told him I'd be calling, too, and gave me his number.

The two "cards of the day" on my phone apps are The Hanged Man from The Robin Wood Tarot and The World from The Tarot of Trees. It's seems an apropos combination, but never today did I have the energy to think it through.

What Day Is It?

I was quite groggy from lack of sleep when my alarm rang at 7:45, but I managed to stumble over to Arlan's before 8:30. I waited for him outside his gate and then walked several paces behind him down to MacabiPharm on Sderot HaTmarim and Eilot Street.

It was quiet and we walked in the shade most of the way, listening to birds sing and admiring flowers in secret alleys that Arlan is familiar with.

At MacabiPharm, Arlan picked up medications for Jude and I picked up something for Diana. Unfortunately, the pharmacy did not have my prescription in stock. The pharmacist told me to go to SuperPharm; she didn't know whether or not SuperPharm would have access to my doctor's order.

Arlan and I got bottled drinks rather than icecafes at the makolet across from Stock. It was nice to see familiar faces there.

Arlan waited outside while I went into SuperPharm. Someone waiting outside the door tested my temperature before letting me in. (How does that device work-- while pointed at my forehead, it seemed to generate heat.)

There were two pharmacists serving customers when I first arrived. Then the second one started helping the first. Before I started checking the time, they had already spent an extraordinary amount of time going through the drawers to find prescriptions for one woman in a wheel chair. (Some of the drawers were more than six feet off the floor and they couldn't see into them.)

Meanwhile, the crowd that was gathered near the pharmacy grew and grew and grew. It was bloody hazardous. I stood farther away, but the crowd kept growing. One person tried to speak to the second pharmacist, but she ignored her. It had been twenty minutes since I first checked my watch and the two workers didn't show any sign of being ready to ring up the customer's order.

It was frustrating and frightening. Finally, I gave my number to a woman with a cane and left.

(I have over a week of medication left and someone on English Speakers in Eilat said that the small, private pharmacy will definitely have my records.)

We saw a homeless woman sitting on the street as we walked up toward Diana's house. I pulled out my wallet and she jumped up, smiling and talkative. I think she was as glad of human contact as of the money. She complimented my looks and I felt flattered even though I knew better. I can't imagine how hard it must be to be homeless, especially during a pandemic.

As we passed the parking lot in front of the Thai restaurant (which was open to make deliveries), Arlan suggested we stop in the Rav Kav office. Unexpectedly, a man sitting outside the building asked me, "Rav Kav?" and opened the door for me.

I explained that had used the phone app to put money on my RavKav card last week, but the credit didn't show up when I got on the bus. (I got two free bus rides last week.) My Hebrew wasn't up to the task of understanding him, so I had to call Arlan in for assistance. He was saying that I had not been charged. The man wasn't taking cash, but luckily the machine accepted my American credit card.

Arlan and I walked to  Diana's so I could give deliver her Macabi Pharm purchases. A couple weeks ago, Diana had told me that the roof of her mirpeset had been badly damaged in the Friday the 13th storm, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw! She must have been terrified during that storm, which lasted a good 12 hours.

Arlan waited downstairs while I climbed the pitch black stairwell to her apartment. She also needed food from the makolet. I reminded her that people over 60 aren't supposed to go out at all, and picked up the things on her list while Arlan chatted with a friend on his Apple Watch.

(BTW, I have not reminded Arlan of the recommendations for people over 60. I'm sure he knows. but the restrictions nearly drove him batty at first. So I will just have to trust him to be careful while he also maintains his sanity.)

Diana is doing well. She's cheery and looks healthy. She already has a routine of studying and spending an hour a day on the mirpeset reading, so she is doing better with lock-down than many people. I didn't go inside, but while we talked, her cat Neo kept trying to come out, which was surprising because he's usually shy of me.

As Arlan and I walked up to our neighborhoods, we stopped in various spots on the way to sit in a bit of shade. It was a warm day and a long slog uphill. I missed the busses! People are eager to socialize; one man commented that I was "flying" up the hill as Arlan trailed behind. (Most people walk slowly uphill; I hate it so much that I go fast just to get it over with.)

When we stopped in a makolet for cold drinks, Arlan found something else Jude needed, disposable gloves, which they hadn't had at Macabi Pharm.

While sitting on a shady wall, we heard cat's yelling at each other. We couldn't figure out what was going on and watched them for a long time. We never decided if it was a game or bullying or some sort of feline court room scene. They dispersed suddenly, for no reason we could discern.

Jude was home (we had thought she might have a dialysis appointment today) so I finally got to see her place, the outside at least. It's beautiful, on a private street, gorgeous yard with flowers and paving and seats. I didn't know Israeli homes could be so well maintained and attractive.

It was nice to see her looking so great! She always has fabulous gray wigs and really unusual jewelry, but she was glowing with health and happiness. I was so happy to see her looking strong and vigorous.

She had broken her foot a few days before Bassia's funeral. (I don't remember the date... It was Daf Yomi Breisheet 13.) For several days now, she has been out of the wheelchair and moving around with a walker! She was full of energy and joy. And very glad to have visitors.

She came out to stand in the sun with us. While we were chattering away about volunteers who have been calling her and Arlan, she suddenly gasped. I turned and saw a policeman striding right past us. Yikes!

He hadn't said anything to us and seemed to be on some other mission. Then a car with flashing lights navigated the narrow street.

Time to leave!

"Bye-by, Jude. Come on, Arlan. Hurry up!"

We were actually close to home at this point. Arlan and I parted a few minutes later; he headed home and I visited the store for food before "climbing" Canada Gardens to my place.

Back home, I "ungloved" and put my groceries away.

I responsibly entered all my recent transactions into my spreadsheet and then collapsed in my chair to watch episodes of Barney Miller and eat a huge lunch and drink a large can of beer.

Before the nap (necessitated by said lunch and beer), Alessandra texted the "Levannah, Scottish Kitty" group, consisting of her, me, Arlan, and Tan, to show us a picture of Prupru, a stray cat she managed to take to the vet just eight hours before the strict lockdown was declared. Baruch HaShem!!! (Bless God.)

Prupru (Prudence) is one of the stays in my old neighborhood. Alessandra named her Prupru in hopes of giving her some prudence; she got in a fight with a car a few years ago and her shoulder is way out of joint.

Recently Prupru became really skinny and wouldn't eat even the wet food Alessandra brought her. On Wednesday, the vet gave her medicine that helped immediately. She looks so much better than she did before. Alessandra has been taking care of her for several days now. But Prupru is an outdoor cat... so she managed to squeeze out a screened window and down to the ground from the fourth floor (that's the fifth floor, to Americans).

Alessandra had to capture her again and is keeping her inside. Apparently she is getting along well with the two dogs, Maggie and Mocha. Mom is slightly less thrilled.

After some more aimless activity this afternoon, I took a short nap and woke up to find a message from Damien, a manager from The Dan hotel where I worked before it closed because of the pandemic.

At 3:06, he had texted the Pool Team asking us to pick up envelopes at ShuperSol (the grocery store over by Macabi Pharm) at 4 p.m. I'd slept through the message and appointment.

He told me to come to his home tomorrow to get it. I know where he lives because I had to pick up unemployment paperwork from him last week and it's definitely not within 100 meters of my place. I texted John and learned the contents of the check are a Passover bonus. I may wait until the lock-down is over to pick it up. I'm not sure which frightens me more: the virus or the possibility of being arrested.

This evening, the cats came running to me. They learn fast. I already have names for a few: Rishona (the first one who came near me), Gingi (who, obviously, is orange), and Bobby E. Lee (because she's gray).

Later, I spent quite some time texting with Tan's best buddy, Yossi, who is in lockdown in Columbia. I updated him on the storm, my move, the barricading of the city, and the closure of the hotel. He told me about his new davening routine, his family in the States, and Chabad's impending Pesach deliveries. Then he mentioned an emergency flight out of Columbia to Atlanta tomorrow.

I immediately texted Jessica, but she was already aware of the flight. Her daughter, Sharon, is probably going to stay put  with her host family there.

Twelfth Day of Lockdown in Israel

Is it the fourth day of the stricter lockdown? I’m uncertain. (No, it's only the third day.)

It is definitely Shabbat. Last evening, Arlan and I lit candles, chanted Kiddush, and blessed bread together over the phone. Then I went downstairs to feed the stray cats.

Shabbos candles and disposable gloves

This morning, my alarm rang a little before 5 a.m., and I logged onto Zoom to join a Reform community, Beit Haverim (House of Friends), in Oregon for Kabbalat Shabbat (Receiving/Welcoming the Sabbath). The birds began singing outside before the call ended and the sky beyond the hills was just beginning to lighten when I went back to bed. When I woke again, around 8 a.m., one of the melodies that the cantor had sung was running through my head.

Although it was beautiful outside, as only Eilat can be just prior to the extreme heat of summer, I puttered around my new place. It takes an extraordinary amount of time to turn the bed back into the appearance of a couch; it’s a process that I’ll have to streamline sometime before work resumes.

Eventually, I put on a pair of black, disposable gloves on, hung my key around my neck, and carried my drum across Derech Harim (Hills Way). A gentle breeze and the perfect blending of sun and clouds were caressing the day.

There is an archaeological site, the world’s oldest above-ground burial, across the street from my new home. It is possibly more than 100 meters from my building, so at first, I only went as far as the bottom of the path that goes past the site and into the hills. I wish I could describe the the bare naked hills and all their colors that Arlan calls the Bones of Mother Earth.

I drummed as a few families and individuals passed me on the dirt strip that parallels Derech Harim, walking their children or their dogs. Here and there, a couple walked through the valleys or climbed the hills.

After drumming the seven directions, I kept drumming and became caught up in the rhythm as I never have before, and when I finished, I climbed the path to the archaeological site.

The bases of small, stone structures survive: individual circles, paired circles, some paved, pairs of standing stones, and one that looks, to my imagination, like the lower half of a torso and legs. I looked out at the Gulf and the city of Aqaba to the east, at the hills to the west and north, and down to the east and south at the outdoor gym and buildings of my new neighborhood, Mitzpe Yam (Sea View).

I found the circle that I’d sat near, for a ritual in November 2017, three months after I moved to Eilat. I had completed the ritual on Friday afternoon before Shabbat came in and walked all the way back to my old apartment in the Yealim (Ibixes) neighborhood just at candle-lighting time. The site for my ritual had seemed so remote; I’d never imagined that I’d eventually live in the building nearest it.

I returned home, stripped off my disposable gloves and struggled a bit with the lock on my door. Since I don't know how to work the mazgan (air conditior/fan/heater), I left the door open so the breeze could flow through my studio; the paper lanterns I'd made for the bare bulbs rustled cheerily. I drank a couple of glasses of water because it's important to remain hydrated in the desert.

Arlan texted and asked me to call him. It was nice to hear his voice. He had already walked down to our friend Jude's house to get her Macabi card so we can go to the pharmacy for her tomorrow and also get gloves for her mitapelet (caregiver). She had offered to let him borrow her car, but it wouldn't start.

We've decided to walk both ways, even though a few buses will be running. We won't go to the grocery store there because Arlan is sure that our little market will have matza and other Pesach foods soon.

 

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, I walked to the market to get more cat food and some more food for myself. I ran into Isobel, another Anglim who lives nearby, and we chatted for a while-- at a distance, of course. We must have been standing very still: at one point, a crow flew right between us!

When I returned home, I did my laundry and accomplished nothing else!

I'll go downstairs and feed the cats in a little while, and perhaps watch a movie, but I'm eager to crawl into bed and block out reality.