Shanah Tovah (cont'd)

When we left off I had fallen asleep on Friday night, the first night of Rosh Hashanah.

I decided lying on the mattress that I didn't really want to wander around too far and so I'd just stick with Shirah Chadashah for Shacharit as well. We walked over there after I had the 1.5-height Milky Flo got especially for me: two chocolates under a cream (they also sell 1-and-2). The guy at the back of shul gave me a little note with the name of the person whose seat I was to sit in (obviously because he wasn't there). The tunes were all the familiar ones except for a slight variation on U'Netaneh Tokef/ונתנה תקף and a very happy short tune for parts of Kaddish. Flo had the seventh aliyah* and likened learning a new tune for those blessings to trying to sing the ABCs to a tune other than the totally universal one. Which is impossible because it's totalyl universal. But even universal tunes change on the day of the birth of the universe.

Actually, that was addressed: is it the birth of the universe? Or just the creation of man? Was the world created on 1 Tishrei or 25 Elul with the sixth day being 1 Tishrei? This was the dvar torah but I was too far back, there were too many loud kids and opening doors, and projecting to a ninety-degree angled audience was too hard for me to catch what she was saying about it. Maybe if it were in English it would have been OK but I've found that unless I can see the lips of the person I'm trying to listen to I have a really hard time comprehending. I still managed to talk to Yigal for a good five minutes Thursday night (speaking of the present week) on the phone, which made me happy.

*She had the seventh aliyah after the first six--which were immediately preceded by a Kiddush! Who ever heard of doing Kiddush in the middle of Shacharit? But there's two smart things about it. A lot of people don't eat before shul, so this is a way of getting around the problem by starting shul and then providing some food. More importantly (?) it provides a built-in bathroom break during Musaf. Specifically, during the repetition. Naturally I didn't avail myself of this, um, golden opportunity, but the thought is nice. Another few smart things Israeli shuls have that I've never seen anywhere in the States (though I'm no professional shul-hopper):

• Modim d'Rabanan printed up in big letters at the front of the room so you don't have to flip flip flip through the book when you're supposed to say this because you can just look up
• Siddurim that are more like Chumashim; that is, they have all the Torah readings in the first few hundred pages of the book and then Shabbat services in the last hundred so there's no need to carry around two books

I left shul walking towards where I thought Rafi's house was because I remembered passing his street when I took a bus down what I thought was Emek Refaim. But apparently it wasn't because I couldn't find that street and since parallel streets intersect here with alarming regularity but perpendicular streets are likely to never touch, I figured I'd ask someone before I went too far. I asked in Hebrew. The two women answered in English with what looked like a little snicker. I let on nothing (besides the accent) and thanked them in Hebrew. Psh. I found Rafi's; I had been walking the right direction but I needed to switch to the next main street. One wishes the city planners of Israeli towns had learned the Pythagorean Theorem before they starting paving horse paths.

He had called me before Chag to say that he wasn't going to be there and I told him that it was OK, I'd be fine eating with his parents or brothers if they were home from school/army. Cheryl and Josef came up the stairs a fwe minutes later and we had a short lunch and a long nap--as in long enough that I wouldn't have time to walk to Kol HaN'shama for Maariv and then to walk all the way to where we woere having dinner. I told the Klein-Katzes that I might show up to shul but that I didn't want to drive over with them. It just wouldn't seem right. I finally found the place after realizing that when a street on the map stops and then starts again (with a different name) it's probably because there's a hill separating the two places. I realized that after looking down the hill at the continuation of the street, which I couldn't get to because there was a hill separating the two places. Not only that, but my map showed "Hatekufah" coming off the right side of Shimoni, which it very clearly does not. I got to dinner on time but then they didn't answer the door until 5 minutes later because there was a lot of noise in the apartment.

The hosts were a British convert and her husband, a very emphatic guy from...somewhere, USA. I ate with the Klein-Katzes, or at least Yavin because Matan was off somewhere and also a second guest-family. He's a reform rabbi; she said, "Klionsky...Klionsky...where have I heard that name before?" I brought out the pomegranate I'd picked off a tree before Shabbat the week before (with the permission of the nice woman who owned the tree) and cut one for the first time ever because Naomi's monopolized it ever since Dad showed her. It wasn't ruby-red inside, but apparently there are two types of the fruit and we only ever get one in the States. When Yavin and I got up to start walking back were, the stories came out.

"Do you have relatives in Bingha--"

"Yes!"

So Cara Saposnik knows David Borsykowsky (that's Sarah's second Geography hit, mind you) from...somewhere, I don't remember the details. And, of course, we went over hometowns next. She knows the family of the guy who lives in Room 224 (and I'm in Room 223) from Madison--Eli, the guy I mentioned in the previous post. And as if two connections weren't enough, she also knows Julius Solomon from somewhere else.

It was a long walk back. If my maps had scales I might try to measure the total distance I walked on this no-work holiday. It was quite a ways.

*

When I got up, only Sally was awake and she directed me to the closest shul (I was just going to wander until I found one, so her tip was good): "turn left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right and then you're standing in the building. Make the first turn you can each time." It took me to רחוב אביגיל/Rechov Avigayil/Abigail Street ("wife of David the King", reads the little line under the street name), which is about twenty feet long and consists of exactly one, very short building. I can't remember the name; I'll have to ask the K-Ks. It's a Sephardi shul (a contradiction in terms, maybe), and by that I don't mean that they add a few words to Kaddish and say Barchu before Aleinu. I mean hardcore Sephardi, as in Morocco and chanting and 14-notes-in-a-scale and not pronouncing some letters auctioning off aliyahs before reading Torah ("pa'amaim 'hai"). Try saying that. Not chai. Not hai. But b'emet, mamash, 'hai. "..elohei Abraham, elohei Yitz'hak, elohei Ya'akob".

I didn't like it. There's nothing wrong with that style of davening, but it just wasn't pleasing, and especially on Rosh Hashanah, to be with unfamiliar tunes. The first day was a lot better. But I went back there for Minchah and Maariv after walking back to Shirah Chadashah only to find they had no afternoon services.

In between, I ate with the Klein-Katzes and Michelle and Marc from camp were there, too.