Now Vegan- and Loving It!

A few weeks ago, I finally made the decision to return to veganism.  I pretty much always knew I'd make the switch back eventually; just like with my weight loss, it was a matter of being ready to commit to and accept a healthy lifestyle.

Now it seems that veganism is becoming all the rage.  I've been reading about 'power vegans'-  Yikes! who would have thought there would be talk of power vegans!   Yup- hamburger inhaling Bill Clinton has joined the vegan club, as have Steve Wynn, Mort Zuckerman, and - Mike Tyson!  (Hmm.. I'm not sure how I feel about being a member of their club...)

[Check out this arcticle about power vegans in BusinessWeek.]

Bestselling books are pushing veganism.   Little did I know when I picked up "Skinny Bitch" that the authors' agenda was to push a vegan diet.  There I was, laughing my head off for the first half of the book, when all of sudden-  Bam! -  the book turned into a serious manifesto of why veganism is the only sane diet to follow.

I've got another best seller, "The China Study," sitting at my elbow.  I haven't started reading it yet, but with endorsements by two authors (Dean Ornish, and John Robbins) whose books, years ago, originally led me to become a vegan, I'm pretty sure I'll find it a good read.

It was neither the desire to be a member of a power club, nor the need to be trendy, that led me to return to veganism.   As I wrote in my previous post, my return seemed like a natural extension of my decision to lead a healthy lifestyle.   At first I thought I'd eat vegan 2 or 3 days a week, but at the end of the second week I realized that I hadn't eaten any dairy or eggs, and I hadn't even noticed.   What I did notice was I was sleeping better and feeling more energetic.  I'd have been foolish not to make the switch.

Now, three weeks later, people are commenting on the rosy glow in my cheeks, I'm noticing the bounce in my step, and the weight keeps rolling off.   I'm eight months into my diet, and it looks like I'll lose 10 pounds this month.   Pretty darn good, especially since I've been eating about a grocery bag full of food each day:  a quart of strawberries, 2 or 3 persimmons, several peppers, bread, apples, a bowl or two of soup...

I'm not a fanatic- you won't find me freaking out if something I eat turns out to have a touch of egg or dairy.  But I'm really enjoying my new appreciation for how good fresh fruits and vegetables taste (I absolutely crave them), and I'm amazed at how great I feel. 

A year ago, I never would have believed that I would voluntarily give up eating my beloved hard, sharp cheese and deep, dark chocolate.  Now, I openly and honestly say that not only do I not miss them, but I can easily imagine living the rest of my life without eating them again.

(Note: Vegans do eat chocolate.  I've eliminated it from my diet for weight loss and other reasons.)

New Year, New Me!

I've lost so much weight that I don't recognize myself in the mirror!

Wow- what a way to start the new year!

Seven months ago, something clicked, and I started focusing on a healthy lifestyle.  I cut out sugar, most additives, excess fat, and began to move around- not enough to say I was exercising, but a heck of a lot more than I was doing.

I'm not going to say I don't deserve a big pat on the back, but the truth is,  making this lifestyle change hasn't been that difficult.  My craving for sugar disappeared fairy quickly, and the weight has been all but rolling off.

Some stats:

Start date:    June 1, 2010
Starting weight:  242 lbs              Present weight:  158 lbs        Goal weight:     120 lbs
Starting size:      22-24W  (3X)     Present size:   ~ 10  (S-M)     Goal size:      4-6  (XS-S)


As to what exactly I'm doing to take off the weight: 

- I keep a daily log of what I eat, and what/how I exercise. 

- I limit my fat intake to 10% of my daily diet.

- Basically, my diet consists of vegetables, fruits, and whole grains, with a touch of low fat dairy.

{I've been a vegetarian for 30 years, with occasional bouts of veganism, and I'm starting to feel a strong pull back toward veganism; I've started 'eating vegan' 3 days a week, and when I look to the future, I have a feeling it will be only rarely that I'll be choosing non-vegan foods.}

 - I'm not being fanatical about exercise- only about 1/2 hour a day, with a mix of walking and some light weight training; I do the weight work at home, and the walking is done mainly around my neighborhood (although I really enjoy finding new places to walk).

- I've been focusing more and more on the 'time after'-  my life once I've reached my goal weight.   My food and exercise choices are done with easy lifetime maintenance in mind, which is why I'm limiting my exercise time.   My thinking is that 1/2 hour of daily exercise will pretty much be always easy to do; more than that might become a chore.   I also eat out a few times a month- I order carefully, but I do make sure to order foods that I'll enjoy and consider a treat.

- I smile a lot :-)

- I weigh myself everyday, but I accept the weight that I am.  I don't freak out about not having lost weight; I know that if I'm eating 'right' the weight will come off.  

- I go through my closets at least twice a month.   There's nothing like baggy pants for encouragement!

- I have a wonderful network of supporting, encouranging, and loving friends and close ones- starting with my husband, Stu, whose enthusiasm for the new me is infectious!

- I start every day with gratitude and with a slap on the ass, telling myself that at my age I should be smart enough to know how to get my act together.

- I look for articles, books, and films that will be inspiring.   I recently read 'Skinny Bitch' and loved it; 'Eat Pray Love' is a favorite, and the film 'Super Size Me' had me nodding (and shaking) my head.

- I meditate.  Not as often as I'd like to (but that's one of my New Year's resolutions).

- I always look forward.  (I'm already perusing eBay for size 8 and size 6 pants!)

And that's all there is to it!  

There have been some weird bumps along the road (my heart threw me a couple of loops over the summer, but I'm dealing with it), but all in all, it's been pretty easy.   The weight loss has slowed down, but I knew that would happen, so it's not an issue.  With the arrival of the new year, I've renewed my committment to taking- and keeping- the weight off, and am looking forward to new ways of toning and smiling at my body.  

I'm amazed at the increase in my stamina.. Heck- I'm thrilled that I can see my toes!

Writing this post is my public 'coming out'.  I'm actually not sure what's prompted me to go public with my 'before' stats, but if it helps or inspires anyone, then I'm glad I went public.

I guess some 'before; pics are due, so here you go, along with my wishes for a happy, healthy, and content year, filled with hopes and dreams realized and fulfilled, and at least an inkling of glee every day.


Nov, 2009:

Dec 2010:

If Religion, Then..... Why?

Church of All Nations

On Tuesday, while we were fasting for Tisha B'Av, Stu and I went to the Mount of Olives.

Getting there from our home was an interesting experience.  It only took about half an hour, but in that short time we drove thru new Jerusalem, and via the religious neighborhoods of Mea Shearim and Bar Ilan, crossed into Arab East Jerusalem near the area of the Temple Mount.  Driving onward, we followed the walls of the Old City to the Mount of Olives, where we found parking across from a long row of tourist buses that lined the approach to the Church of All Nations.

The area was filled with tourists from around the world.  We saw groups and independent travelers from places as widespread as Korea and Italy.  Most were focusing their sights on the church and its surroundings (which includes the Garden of Gethsemane), but while we lingered a bit, the focus of our visit was across the road.

Directly across the street from the Church of All Nations lies the Jewish cemetery at the Mount of Olives.  With its view of the Old City walls and of modern Jerusalem beyond them, you would expect that tourists to the area would be eager to take at least a few moments to explore the cemetery and its view.

But we didn't notice any tour guides pointing out the view to their groups, and almost no one turned around or crossed the road to take photos. 

Sounds odd, doesn't it?

The explanation might lie in the reason for our visit:  to see and walk among the thousands of old and ancient Jewish graves which were destroyed during the years of Jordanian occupation before Israel gained control of the area in the 1967 war.

The contrast from one side of the street to the other is quite remarkable- and uncomfortable.

On one side are two very elaborately decorated churches- the richly painted Church of All Nations, and the gold plated onion domes of the Russian Orthodox Church above it.

On the other side of the road, facing the walls of the Old City (and the view of the golden Dome of the Rock peeking above them), are tens of thousands of graves, many of which still lay in ruins, their tombstones smashed, the earth around them strewn with debris.

Over 40 years ago, shortly after the '67 war, I visited the area for the first time, and although I was only 11 years old, the sadness of that visit is still burned in my mind.

Although Israel had only regained control of the area a few months before, valient efforts were being made to restore the cemetery.  I'll never forget the sight of dozens of people wandering through the destruction, trying to locate the graves of loved ones.  It seemed like an impossible task- how could they hope to locate anything amidst those piles of rubble?

The destruction was so intense, that 40 years later the restoration is still not complete.  In 19 years of occupation, the Jordanians had worked hard to destroy the cemetery, desecrating and uprooting graves dating from biblical times to our modern era. 

Part of the goal of the restoration work was to reopen the cemetery to new burials as soon as possible- an ironic testament to the endurance of the Jewish people.

Walking among that destruction, trying to decipher the faded lettering on cracked tombstones, I found myself overwhelmed with the feelings of frustration and confusion that often haunt me when I travel around Israel.

Those feelings were particularly disturbing that day:

How could it be, at a place that is deeply holy to so many people, that we were immersed in the evidence of the deliberate desecration of one one religion, while within clear sight of the golden domes of two others?

How could it be, that visitors who came from all over the world to glory in the beginnings of their own religion, not turn around and reflect upon another?

Since the inception of this blog, I've avoided writing about these reflections.  It's so much easier, and of course more pleasant, to enjoy each day without having to think of all the whys of the world.

But Tisha B'Av, of all days, is the time for exactly those questions.  Not just for Jews- for everyone.  And maybe now that I've finally started talking about them, I'll find the strength and determination to return to those reflections regularly. 

In the meantime, I have a feeling that each time I put on the sandals I wore that day,  the fine grains of sand from the cemetery still clinging to the crevices and soles will strengthen my identity with the thousands of years of Jewish struggle and fortitude in this region- linking me to my past in a reminder of how, after a lifetime of longing, I emigrated to Israel.. but at the same time, continuing to raise a deep turbulance within me as new dimensions of whys continue to fight their way to the surface.

Smokin'

If you're chuckling at the illustration to the left, chances are you've been in Israel in the summer.  I don't know if it's a macho Middle Eastern thing, or if it's just part of the Sabra (native Israeli) culture, but Israelis seem to feel that it takes an entire can of lighter fluid to start a bbq!

While the air on summer days may have a touch of smoke from a nearby forest fire, you can be sure that come nightfall, the smoke you smell- and you will smell smoke, that's a guarantee- is from someone's grill. 

In Jerusalem, you know you're approaching Sacher Park by the clouds of smoke from family bbqs drifting onto the road.  Residents who drive by know to be prepared for a moment or two of temporary blindness, while visitors to the city have a landmark to help them find their way.

We've become used to quickly running around the apartment, shutting windows, whenever we get a first whiff of lighter fluid from our neighbors' terraces.   If we're not fast enough, within moments white puffs of smoke start drifting over our yard and into our home, followed by half an hour or more of gray clouds of smoke filling the air.  I guess in one sense we're fortunate that Israelis have a proclivity for an overuse of lighter fluid- at least it gives us a heads up to seal our apartment before being inundated with smoke!

This post is dedicated to our new downstairs neighbors, who certainly broke all smoke records last night.   I was doing some gardening in the front of our apartment, when my husband came out to warn me that our house had quickly filled with smoke from the downstairs bbq.  (He had been outside helping me for a while, so we were caught unawares.)

It was the first time that the new neighbors had started their grill, and it was memorable- they must have been smoking something, because a thick white column of smoke rose from their terrace all night.   Both floors of our apartment were filled with smoke, and we were caught in a bind- close the windows to keep more smoke from getting in, but in doing so trap any smoke that was already there; or try to keep the air circulating with open windows and fans, with the hope that we'd have some chance of clearing the air.

We kept the windows open, figuring that within an hour they'd be finished cooking, and the smoke would stop, never thinking that the smoke would go on and on (and on and on!).   Being the neighborly type, I hesitated going downstairs to say something, because I could hear that they had company, and didn't want to embarrass them or interrupt their evening.  But at 11pm, with the smoke still pouring into our apartment (by then I had shut most of the windows), I finally knocked on their door. 

[Aside: by writing that, I just gave away my immigrant status.  No native Israeli would have waited that long to complain.  (And again, if you've ever spent time in Israel, you can add a few other differences in approach .. !)]

Our interaction was very pleasant and civilized, although he did mention that he wasn't finished grilling yet.  (Gulp!)   I asked him to please, in the future, let us know before he started grilling, and also suggested that he consider moving his grill to the other side of his terrace, a bit further away from our apartment (but of course, that would mean the smoke would then be directed at his apartment, so I don't see that happening any time soon!).

This morning our home was still somewhat smoky, and when I returned from errands a short while ago, the smell of smoke hit me as soon as I opened the front door.

I know this sounds like a rant (go ahead, tell me you wouldn't be ranting in this situation!), but it's actually more of a reflection of life here in Israel (really!). 

You just gotta laugh  (and sometimes -OK, often!- shrug your shoulders, and sigh :-) ) .

If It's Not One Thing, It's Another..

I've been promising myself, for the past couple of weeks, that I'd start posting somewhat regularly, but clearly that's a promise that's being pushed aside.  The truth is, while I've had passing urges to write, I never felt I had anything to write about.

But, somewhere back in my head, there was a nagging feeling that I should sit down at the keyboard and just get to it.  Was my life really so boring, that I had nothing to say?  C'mon!

Well- sort of.  Actually I've been juggling two things:  interviews for a job in Tel Aviv, and a frustrating series of medical issues that keep rolling in.

Oh- I guess I do have something to write about, but it's not what you might think:

I can hear my naturopath's voice humming in my ear:  "Maybe you've got all those medical issues because you really don't want to get that job."

A couple of weeks ago, I was almost listening to that voice.   After all, I've been basically at home for almost ten years- ever since we moved to Israel.   Sure, I spent a most of that time caring for my mom, and a good chunk of the past couple of years traveling, but when someone asks me what I do, I don't really have much of an answer- and that's something I never faced when we lived in the States. 

Once I got a taste of having some place to go regularly, I find that I'm itching to get out of the house. 

So, why did I get the shingles?   Why am I having mysterious painful flashes in my mouth?  Why are my blood pressure and pulse so low that my doc is sending me for an echo cardiogram?   Why did I tear a tendon in my sleep?

You know what- I don't care!   I feel like I'm living in a state of euphoria: nothing can phase me.  It's as if going through a cancer scare has made me 'despondent-proof'. 

I'm finding it incredibly frustrating to be house bound this week- that torn tendon is really putting an annoying crimp in my lifestyle.  

But-

My motto is ever 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' and that's what I've been doing:

-  Good thing they haven't made a decision on that job yet- the longer they wait, the longer my leg has a chance to heal.

- Ditto for all the medical tests I've got to go through:  maybe I'll have  a chance to get them all done before I start working, so I won't have to take some half days as soon as I start a new job.

- Thank goodness they're taking their time:  the longer they take, the more sure I am that I want to get out of the house and work!

So, while I'm not quite saying  'Bring it On!,'  I can say that I'm not phased by all these little things.  My life is filled with love and laughter, and my head is filled with dreams and plans for future trips and the determination to make them happen.  Whether that involves a job in Tel Aviv, or finding other ways to finance my travels, I have no doubt that I'll find a way.   Self employment, consulting, painting, tutoring, or something new- that's all part of the challenge.   And, I love a good challenge!

Marking Time

Spring has always been a favorite time of year for me.  How can you not love seeing bright new blossoms, hearing the sweet chirp of baby birds, or enjoying the fresh, grassy taste of the first asparagus of the season?

In Israel, we don't get to share the excitement of the sight of crocuses and daffodils peeking through the snow, but we get a valley filled with pink and white almond blossoms, and the end of the rainy season. 

Judaism fills spring with holidays- from Purim (the Story of Esther) in March, to Passover a month later, then onto Lag B'Omer and, finally, at the end of May, Shavout- a festival that is celebrated by decorating our homes and synagogues with flowers.  (What a way to say, 'Spring!')

But as much as I love smiling at springtime, it also brings to our family a time of reflection: as we prepare to celebrate each holiday, we also mark the anniversary of the death of a parent.  My mother-in-law passed away a few days before Purim; my father-in-law died suddenly that Passover; my father died two days before Lag B'Omer; and my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer Shavuot time (she passed away a few weeks later). 

I've been quietly marking time since Purim, when I found that lump in my neck.  Incredibly (and incredibly frustratingly), it's been almost 4 weeks since I had my biopsy, and I still don't have the results.   We knew we were going to celebrate Purim and Passover with 'the unknown' hanging over our heads, but I don't think we counted on still being in the dark over Lag B'Omer, and it definitely never occurred to us that we would still be in limbo over Shavuot.

By now, I can recite thyroid cancer statistics at the drop of a hat:  37,000 new cases in the US each year; 1,600 deaths.   I can give you a list of celebrities who are survivors (Catherine Bell, Joe Piscipo, Rod Stewart), and one who didn't survive (Supreme Court Justice Rehnquist).  I fill friends' and family members' ears with optimism and make sure that I add a giggle when they call to confirm that, no, I still haven't gotten the biopsy results.

I'm a fountain of one-liners, all intended to keep everyone at ease:  

- After keeping me waiting this long for the results, 'they' owe it to me to give a good report

- I think I've discovered a new type of Mossad torture..

- Isn't keeping you waiting so long for biopsy results against the Geneva Convention?

I've actually been coping pretty well.  The first week after the biopsy, I made sure to find all sorts of rote things to keep me busy:  straightening closets, washing windows.. I told everyone I had the cleanest bathrooms in the neighborhood (that always raised a chuckle).   There've been a few difficult days- the occassional  anxiety filled morning, or afternoon where all I could do was sleep.  But, all in all, I think I've been doing OK.  I've even been able to fill phone calls and car rides with giggles so that whomever I'm with can relax.

But I'm starting to lose my cool, calm demeanor.   I was sure that I'd finally be getting the results today, and started to brace myself for the call from the surgeon's office.  But when I hadn't heard anything by mid-morning, I called them- only to be told that my doctor wouldn't be in his office until tomorrow evening.

I hung up the phone, and collapsed in my chair, crying.   It took hours, and trying all sorts of things, from meditation to alcohol, before I was able to regain a measure of calm.   Then I got angry, really angry, wondering how the heck anyone could be expected to wait this long for results, and how the hell a medical professional could keep a patient hanging all this time.   In between all that, I found myself amazed that I hadn't had a seizure or a heart attack or even just a simple fainting spell from all the stress.

Yet, here I am, writing, waiting, wondering.   I tell my friends that the wait is intended to bring a sense of quiet defeat to the patient- at some point, you stop caring what the results are, you just want to get them already. 

I told my husband, when Shavuot was approaching, and we didn't have the results, that in a way I didn't want to get the results until after the holiday, because I didn't want it to be another one of our 'bad news' holidays.  Now we're approaching a round of personal celebrations- our wedding anniversary (35!) and our birthdays, and I'm telling everyone (including myself) that 'they' owe it to me not to mark these special days with negative news.

Just a few more days of waiting.....  my spirit isn't broken:  I'm confident that the news will be good.  Sure, I'll still be facing some complicated surgery.  But as long as the word 'cancer' (there, I finally said it) isn't attached to that surgery, I won't be complaining.

C'mon, Skip Bo!

Last November, our granddaughters introduced us to the card game Skip Bo.  It's sort of a card version of Rummikub, and my husband and I took a quick liking to it.  

We've played hundreds of games since then, and somewhere along the line we started chuckling about the life lessons you can learn from playing Skip Bo:

       What I've Learned from playing Skip Bo

• Have patience     In Skip Bo, sometimes your opponent can have a turn that seems to go on forever.  All you can do is sit there and watch and wait until they've run out of moves.  But, eventually (well, unless they finish out the game), your turn will come.

             Real life application:   Patience is a virtue that can ease your life.

• Look around carefully    In Skip Bo, make sure, before you put down you 'end of turn' card, that you've checked the entire playing field very carefully.  Missing an available move can cost you the game.  

             Real life application:   Be aware of your surroundings.

• Stay cool, and have fun    Just about any game can become nastily competitive, and Skip Bo is no exception.   We've learned it's much more fun if we cheer each other on.  

             .Real life application:   Life is sweeter when you have a smile on your face.

• Never give up      Sometimes, especially when your oppenent has one of those never-ending turns, you can't imagine any way you'll win the game.   But there have been countless times when one of us was sure they'd lost the game by a landslide, only to wind up winning in the end.

             Real life application:    Never, ever give up-  not on your dreams,  not on your aspirations, not on love.  No matter how hopeless the situation seems, don't give up hope.

Right now, in my life, I'm rooting for Skip Bo.    I saw the surgeon a couple of days ago, and now I'm scheduled for a biopsy.   My appointment isn't until the end of April, and then we'll have to wait for the results, so we've got lots and lots of waiting ahead of us.   Patience is certainly going to be an important virtue, but, if I wind up in a difficult scenario, then it's that last Skip Bo lesson- 'never give up' that we'll be turning to again and again.

So- C'mon, Skip Bo!   Don't let me down.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Yikes!  I didn't realize how much time had passed since my last posting!  

It's not that I haven't had anything to write about.  There's actually been times when I sat down to write- I just never actually started typing.  I've got little scraps of paper all over the place, with long and short jottings of ideas for blog entries, and even some with experiences I absolutely, positively wanted to write about right away.

So I guess it's sort of ironic that when I finally pushed myself to sit down to write, the topic turns out to be 'waiting'.

We wait for so many things in life-  for a lover to call, for a child to be born, for school years to end.  We wait for smiles to start and tears to dry, for the weather to clear or for a storm to start. 

Some just simply wait for time to pass.

It's all well and good to say that we shouldn't consume our lives with waiting; that it's up to us to make things happen.   But, sometimes we aren't in control of events, and our only recourse is to wait.  We can fool ourselves by finding all sorts of things to keep us busy so that we don't seem to be, or don't feel, that we're on edge waiting for that phone call, email, or test result- but that's all just camouflage.   Waiting is hard; it's painful; it's frustrating.

I have a mantra that I use when the things I try to ease the stress of waiting don't work.  I take a deep breath, and say:

"I am patience."

Sometimes I have to repeat it several times, but eventually it helps me clear my head and push aside my frustration, and move on- at least for a little while.

Sometimes you know that the wait will be short.  Today, for example, I had to wait a bit for the roads to be reopened after the US Vice President passed by.  As I sat in traffic, I wondered if he realized how many people his entourage was inconveniencing (that was after I asked why the heck he had to travel via a major highway instead of helicopter!), but I knew I'd soon be on my way.

I've learned  ways to amuse myself while waiting on line at the post office, the bank, and the supermarket.  That waiting is always fun here, as Israelis aren't known for their patience.  I've enriched my Hebrew vocabulary in all sorts of interesting ways while waiting on those lines :-)

I have a friend who had to wait 2 weeks for the results of a biopsy.  I don't know how she made it through that wait.  I asked her about it, and she said that it wasn't easy, but she had no choice, so she managed somehow.

Unrequited waits can be tough.  We wait for our weekly Friday morning phone call from our son, and we're on edge until his call comes through.  If he misses that call, or if we don't get to speak to our grandchildren on the following Sunday, life just doesn't seem as bright.  But we pull ourselves together, and get on with our week (hmm...or should I say 'camouflage')..

I'm stuck in the midst of a very frustrating waiting game right now.  Two weeks ago, as I was putting lotion on my neck, I felt a lump in my throat.  I was able to see my doctor the next day, and he sent me for an ultrasound which confirmed the presence of the lump.  My doctor says the next step is surgery, but when he called to make an appointment with the surgeon he insisted was the best, he was told that he was out of the country for a conference, and wasn't scheduled to return for over a week.

So, I waited.  The day he returned to Israel, the surgeon's office called to set up an appointment. But the earliest they could squeeze me in isn't for another 2 weeks, so I'm waiting again.  Then, once I see him, I'll have to wait for an open date for the surgery.  And, of course, once I have the surgery, there will be that other waiting.... 

'I am patience.'

A Lesson, in Song

In June, for my birthday, I treated myself to a 4-night cruise to Cyprus, Rhodes, and Mamaris, Turkey. I sailed on a reconditioned ferry, run by a small Israeli cruise line. We sailed out of Ashdod, and I soon learned that, aside from some crew members, I was the only English speaker aboard.

I wasn't fazed by that. I've been living in Israel for almost ten years, and by now I'm fairly fluent in Hebrew. I chuckled when I realized that all announcements were going to be only in Hebrew, but again, no problem- I understood every word. Food wasn't an issue, either, as after 10 years my tastes now often lean more toward the Israeli than American.

I signed up for shore excursions in each port, and once I decoded the Hebrew words for Cyprus, Athens and Rhodes (each roughly pronounced as 'Kafrisin', 'Atoona', and' Rodoos'), not only was I able to understand the guides' narratives, but I was able to participate in the question and answer give and takes that were a part of their repartee.

A substantial part of my enjoyment of that cruise was how easily I felt I fit in - no language barrier, and culturally, at least to the storekeepers in each port, I was as much of an Israeli as anyone else on the ship. For someone who will forever be known locally as an 'American,' being thought of as just another Israeli in the group was nice.

In general, although my accent will always disclose my immigrant roots, I've been pretty well absorbed into Israeli society. We have Israeli friends, with whom we speak only in Hebrew, and there are even some popular Israeli songs that I find myself humming more often than old English language favorites.

But, every now and then, we find ourselves in a situation that flies our immigrant status in our faces.

This past Saturday night was one of those times:

One of our friends is a retired music teacher, and every year he holds a sing-a-long in his home. 30 or so friends cram into his living room; song lyrics are projected onto a wall, and his sons accompany us on piano and flute.

My husband and I did our best to join in the singing, but we soon were stealing mirthful glances at each other. We were surrounded by friends who were belting out songs they had grown up with, and we enjoyed joining in as soon as we caught onto the melody. But aside from the occasional song we recognized (and gave ourselves a happy squeeze when we did), we were definitely in new territory.

To anyone who had grown up in Israel, or who had raised children or grandchildren here, the evening's songs were old, comfortable favorites. But to 'lone immigrants' like ourselves, who have no young ones at home or nearby, each song was a new revelation.

What a joy to be in a room filled with friends and song; all of us having a great time! And, while we were trying to catch on to each melody, we had a chance to carefully read the lyrics of each song, and gain a greater appreciation of their loveliness that we would have if we had been able to join in the singing from the first chord.

As we sat on that small couch towards the back of the living room, we knew we were also sitting on a small island of immigration- and that for as long as we lived in Israel, that couch would never be far away. To the surprise of neither of us, we're perfectly fine with that. We'll always have new lyrics to learn and enjoy, and the accompaniment of friends to help us learn the tune.

Seeing the World with a Painter's Eye

My husband, Stu, has always been 'into' photography. The first time I met him, he had two cameras around his neck (and a girl on each arm, but that's not at all relevant to this post!).

Stu has a natural eye for photography. I've always been impressed with his instinct for framing a photograph, for capturing a moment, and with his eye for composition. I've tried to learn from him, but as the years pass, I've come to realize that he's got some sort of innate photography sense that I don't possess.

That's probably one of the reasons that I don't take many photos when I'm traveling. I find myself wandering about wide-eyed, drinking in all that I can see, and not wanting to have to think about how and what I should be photographing. Which is totally opposite Stu's approach- he always has a camera at hand, and seems to be able to instantaneously spot and click the perfect photo, no stress involved.

After traveling to London and Paris, and having no photos from those trips, I was determined to take pictures on my latest trip. I took all the standard tourist photos- the Sydney Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, beaches and koalas and kangaroos. Taking photos in New Zealand was easy: the scenery was so gorgeous that snapping away was a no-brainer.

Somewhere in New Zealand, I found myself thinking how painterly the scenery was starting to look, and I found myself focusing my photography on things I would like to paint. Suddenly, picture taking became much easier- and much more pleasurable.

I thought I'd share some of those photographs. Maybe one day, I'll post pics of paintings that incorporate elements from some of these photos. What I'd most like to do is to go back to New Zealand with an easel....

From New Zealand:









As inspirational as I found New Zealand, it was at the nature sanctuary my cousin took me to in Florida that I came across the most 'paint ready' scenes (the last two photos were taken on St. Martin):

Replugged, with No Worries

I've been back from my trip for about 3 weeks, and I woke up this morning determined to return to my blog.

So here I am, back home, back online, and getting back into things.

It's been a busy three weeks, filled with visiting grandchildren, apartment hunting (and showing our apartment to prospective buyers), noise from renovations that our new upstairs neighbors are doing before moving in, adjusting to being home and back in Israel, and, as ever, dreams and plans for my next trip...and the ones after that.

Where I've been..

A quick recap of my trip: On September 30, I flew to Los Angeles with my husband. We spent 2 fun weeks together at our son's home, relaxing and enjoying our grandchildren. We saw the youngest, Moshe, take his first steps, and enjoyed mornings with a bed filled with little ones, and days giggling, chatting, and hugging.

After my husband returned to Israel, I took a 4 night Carnival cruise to Catalina Island and Ensenada, Mexico. A few days after returning from the cruise, I was on my way to a week in Sydney, followed by a week in New Zealand's South Island. Then, a short stay with a cousin in Florida before a week of total relaxation on a Caribbean cruise on the Emerald Princess. On Novemeber 16, I returned home refreshed, fulfilled, smiling- and wondering where my travels would take me next.

Highlights

The beauty of New Zealand floored me.

I've always dreamed of visiting New Zealand, and from photos and reading knew it was gorgeous, but I literally found myself breathless as I looked out the plane's window on the flight from Christchurch to Queenstown. More shades of green than I'd ever imagined, blue skies punctuated by snow capped peaks, thousands of sheep, glacial lakes...

Walking around, and traveling by bus, I found that each bend in the road brought another breathtaking landscape. I've mentioned before that, to my occasional regret, I'm not much of a picture taker, but in New Zealand I found myself clicking away, intent on capturing the beauty unfolding before me.

Milford Sound, Doubtful Sound, Mt. Cook, Queenstown.... glory upon glory...





A Week of Firsts- I Prefer Nature Touring, but Sydney was Lots of Fun

I toured Sydney with my friend Laura, and while my week in New Zealand was unquestionably the highlight of this trip, I really enjoyed Sydney, too.

We walked and walked (actually, it was more like Laura walked and I trotted next to her- boy, does she have a long, quick stride!), took ferries to beaches and to the zoo, toured the Opera House and went to an opera, and saw little children everywhere - Sydney seems an energetic city of young, blond, expanding families.

It was a week of firsts for me: I saw my first opera, petted my first koala, saw my first platypus (a real highlight for me, as they've been stuck in my mind since I read about them in second grade), and maybe most important, learned a great new phrase: 'no worries.' I heard it countless times in Sydney and in New Zealand, and now I've found that it's replaced my usual 'no problem.' Such a sweet outlook on life, embodied in a quick and easy phrase!

Here's a few photos from Sydney:




A Very Pleasant Surprise

From New Zealand, I flew to Boca Raton, Florida to spend a few days with my cousin Susan.

I'd been promising to visit Susan for way too long, and finally, on this trip I made my way to her home. I shouldn't have been surprised to find that she had gone out of her way to ensure that I would have a comfortable and enjoyable visit. For months, emails flew back and forth, asking me about my favorite foods, favorite things to do, how much quiet time I wanted...anything and everything that the perfect hostess would want to know about a guest was asked and answered. When I arrived the fridge was filled with yummy treats, my bedroom outfitted, and I was treated better than royalty: Susan's love and delight in seeing me embraced me, and I could feel the smile on my face enveloping my entire being.

Besides feeding me, Susan took me to the beach, to a nature preserve, and on a tour of 'Boca' and neighboring towns. I had only set aside 3 nights for my visit, and by the middle of the first day I was regretting the brevity of my trip. Needless to say, the promise I made to visit at least once a year is one I will be eager to keep.

Capping it off with a Sanctuary

As long as I was going to be in Florida, I figured I might as well take a cruise! I wound up on the Emerald Princess for an Eastern Caribbean cruise (Princess Cays, St. Martin, St. Thomas, and Grand Turk), but I spent most days in the private area of the ship called 'The Sanctuary.' The Sanctuary more than lived up to its name: an oasis of quiet and pampering, with thickly cushioned daybeds instead of the ship's regular lounge chairs, and a staff who strived to make one's stay as comfortable as possible. The ship was great and the Caribbean was lovely, but my time in the Sanctuary was heavenly.

A few of my favorite photos from Florida and from the cruise:




... Where next!?

No question about it- once you've got the travel bug, it never goes away. When I booked my ticket to Sydney, I thought that might be the end of my travels for a while. Silly me! Within a couple of days of returning home, I was already leafing through travel magazines and browsing websites..

My husband's asked me to stay home for at least a little while, so the trip to Egypt I was flirting with for this week will have to wait for a bit- but only a bit, as Stu's promised me that the next time he goes to Port Said on business, I can fly with him to Cairo and tour from there. Hopefully, that will be by the end of next month- especially since I've already started planning my trip!

We're hoping to finally get to Petra together next year, too, but other than our regular trips to see the kids, I'm leaving my travel plans for 2010 open for now. Sure, I've got some 'maybes' floating in my head: a return trip to London and/or Paris, Amsterdam or Copenhagen, a British Isles cruise, Sedona, AZ and thereabouts. A Greek Isle cruise if I spot a great price. Maybe a long weekend in Prague with Stu.

Mostly, travel in 2010 will be low key, with mainly shorter trips. But I've got big plans for 2011 and 2012 :-)


Oh-

How could I not include at least one pic of the true highlight of my trip!: