Yad Vashem

This week, I finished my visit with Yad Vashem. I stook my time reading all the plaques and looking at the pictures. I could feel myself losing focus and because I wanted to be able to absorb everything, I left after learning about Hitler's power and the rise of Nazis. Afterwards, I went to the Hall of Remembrance where the names of each concentration camp are laid out. It wasn't until the next day the I learned about the fate of two of the camps. Belzec had only one survivor and that Chelmno only had three survivors. These two facts had a big impact on me. Survivors I have heard speak were in Bergen-Belsen, Auschwitz, Dachau, or Treblinka. It never even occurred to me that these two camps, which I don't recall learning about by name, would have so few survivors.

In addition, one of the posters included information on the Nazi's next move. However, the war luckily ended before they could be put through. The plans included, by country, how many Jews they wanted to kill by the end of the next year. Most of the countries were in the hundred thousands. There was one country, I can't remember which one, but I think it was somewhere in Northern Europe, where the number listed was 200. The fact that this number even made the list is incomprehensible. They were so into their goal that everything mattered. Even this one little country.

One last thing that I had only heard small details about is the Einsatzgruppen. One specific operation killed over 30,000 Jews in two days. Or, a whole city completely wiped out. One SS officer wrote a letter to his wife and son that the first killing was hard, but after that it became habit. Habit! Everything I have learned about the bystander effect and group mentality in terms of the Holocaust is completely wiped away. Telling people to dig their own graves and to undress near it so that they will fall right in when they are shot is beyond inhumane. That's not group mentality, that's your own mind becoming insane.

The Nuremburg Trials were supposed to convict Nazis. One time when I learned about the Holocaust, my teacher asked us if the factory workers making Zyklon-B should be put on trial. Or if the train drivers. Technically, they didn't point the gun, but both workers had a big part in killing the Jews.

Though Yad Vashem is depressing, there is a certain spirit that I felt as I walked back outside after going through the museum. The inside of the building is full of dark terrible nightmares describing slaughters and mass murdering. But outside, the golden sun shimmers off the building. A garden winds through the Jerusalem forest towards Mount Herzel. The triangular building over looks Ein Kerem. I walked outside into the conclusion. It's very hard describe. I have been to the museum in DC and while the museum is good you don't get the same sense of pride as when you walk out the doors. When you walk out onto the DC streets you continue living as an American. But stepping out into the Israel air, you are continuing life as a Jew.

Your Epidermis is Showing!

My thought process: It's hot out today. I'll wear these shorts and a tank top. But I'm going to the city center, I always feel so uncomfortable. I'll put a t-shirt over my tank top.

Fast forward a few hours: I go through the entrance of the supermarket. The guard gives me the go ahead to enter the store without checking my bag. As I am picking out apples, a different security guard comes up to me and tells me that they saw me on camera and that I am not dressed appropriately. I'm wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but apparently my shorts are too short. I am given a scarf to wrap around my waist so that my knees aren't showing. As a side note, I was not the only one in this situation. There were a few other women (and only women) who were also given scarves.

Yes, I am in a religious neighborhood. But I'm picking out apples from a bin, not from the Tree of Life, but the way that I was approached made it seem that way. If I'm in the parking lot of the store, the same people who saw me inside will see me outside and see the way I am dressed. It is my belief that on a hot day, I can wear shorts and a t-shirt in all different colors. If you are a religious woman (by which I mean a Black Hat), it is your belief to wear long skirts and long shirts in either black, grey, or blue. Just because I choose to express myself differently does not mean that my right should be taken away when I go food shopping. 

But wait.

There's a sign in the front of the store that asks customers to dress appropriately because this is specific supermarket is a religious one. This company only owns a few other stores in the country, maybe two or three. So I should dress like they want me to...right?

( pictures )

Tasting America and Israel

As I waited to get onto the plane for the second leg of my Aliyah flight, there were two people to check the tickets. One line was fuller than the other and of course I was in the fuller line. The other one was empty and the check-in lady told people to go to her side. The lady a few people behind me, an American, and I both stepped to her booth at the same time. There was an exchanging of "go, no you go, no you." before I finally stepped forward to end it. I felt that this was perfect in giving me my last taste of America. There was no pushing, no shoving, but rather a politeness factor.

After arriving in Israel, I went to the Ministry of Absorption to gather my teudat oleh (my ID indicating that I am new in the country). This sounds like it should have taken no more than five minutes, which technically it didn't. However, we had to wait for every person from the previous flights and my flight to get their ID cards. So about twenty people. Then we had to wait for the bus to drive everyone back to the airport and pick up luggage. But finally I was in Israel and on the drive home, the sun set over Jerusalem.

The next few day then consisted of setting up everything you need to live. But I was not able to sign up a cell phone or a bank account or ulpan until I received my teudat zehut (my permanent ID). In the meantime, I investigated the banks and cell hone companies. There are two major banks in Jerusalem and a few other ones that are not as prominent. In the end, I just chose a bank where the people were the nicest. Though at the one I chose, the teller told me that I wasn't allowed to open an account unless I lived in that neighborhood, but he would allow it this one time. For cell phones, the first place I looked, the seller wouldn't give me any discounts as an oleh (immigrant) which I am entitled to, until the person I brought with me told him that he himself, has this company. Then all of a sudden, the seller started taking discounts, but he also stopped talking to me. The second place I went, which I was reluctant to go to in the first place because it's logo gives an expensive look, was immediately nicer. They offered me a discount when I showed my ID, they told us to sit down, have some water (which they do literally everywhere there is business to be done. This happened at the bank too), and discuss my options. Because this company was nicer and actually talked to me as well as inexpensive, I chose them.

After waiting an hour at the Ministy of Interior (Misrad HaPanim), which was a quick name, parents name, prove you're Jewish and were born (all of which I needed before making Aliyah), I opened a bank account and received a cell phone. Oh, but then I had to go back to the Ministy of Absorption to tell them my bank account number and cell phone, but I need to make an appointment. And I found this out after waiting an hour in line.

Except for the red tape, everything else is going great. On Friday morning, I could really feel Shabbat in the air. Black hats were scurrying, cars were bumper to bumper, and everyone had somewhere to be. For the weekend, I went to the beach, which was absolutely gorgeous. Afterwards, I went food shopping and since it was hot outside I was wearing a tank top (a real tank top, not spaghetti straps) and shorts. When I walked in, the guard told me that because my shoulders were showing, I had to wear a scarf over my shirt.

First of all, my shoulder were mostly covered. It was the kind of shirt that stretch at the shoulders. Second of all, this was food shopping. I understand if it was a holy place, but last time I checked Pastafarians don't care whether or not my shoulders are covered. I took the scarf off later and no one bothered me, but still.
And by the way, Pastafarian is a real religion recognize by the government.

Pictures should be up shortly.