OK, I think I've got this thing working now. Hi, everybody.

So I have decided to keep this blog as a means of keeping everyone informed of what is going on in mine and Elana's day to day life. It will not be very interesting to most people, I'm afraid, unless you find my particlar brand of prose particularly enthralling. Really, I'm only doing this for my benefit, as a means of cutting down on the number of mass emails I send.

So, I'm going to start now, with a brief synopsis of everything that has happened since we left Los Angeles. First things first is our travel story, which I hope you find amusing.

We left Elana's grandparents house (which is no longer in LA, but rather about an hour and a half north of it) at 6 AM for a 10 AM flight. Everything seemed pretty okay at that point. We were on our way to New York (an intermediate step between there and Israel). It turned into a rather rough day. First of all, we were flying ATA--never a good idea, if it ever comes up. In order to comply with their regulations regarding the number of bags we could take, we had placed our laptops into a larger black bag, which, according to the size limits published online, would fit. But more on that later. Security was a hassle (as it should be, of course). Security meant opening up the laptop cases and sending them through individually, opening up Elana's French Easel (which was a lengthy process, as she was not allowed to touch it, but had to try to explain to the security workers how to open it, and it is a complex piece of wood), and sending through our shoes and backpacks separately. When we went to repack the black bag that contained our laptops, the zipper broke. When we finally got it fixed, it was time to board. We thought we were in the clear. However, ATA being ATA and not a real airline, they neglected to mention that although the overhead bin is in fact the dimensions they gave, the entrance to it is not. Which meant that again, we had to unpack the black bag. Here I give ATA the credit it is due: they were cool and let us unpack and carry the laptops separately. Again, unfortunately, as we unpacked the bag, the zipper broke. You will notice a recurring motif with this bag.

Nothing extraordinary happened on the flight, though Elana did whip me at cards (another recurring motif you will notice). We had a stopover in Chicago-Midway--another bad idea, as airports go. However, having flown out of there a couple of times, we had a good idea of where to eat, and had a charming little meal, with all our bags, at Harry Caray's. Then our friend Ben, who we know from our time living in the Big Windy, came out to the airport to meet us. This was very cool of him, seeing as how he came all the way out from the loop (downtown, to you Chicago illiterates) through some of the poorest ghetto in America to visit with us for approximately half an hour before our next flight. It was great to see him there.

The slight problem was that seeing him meant leaving security. I would do it again, of course, but as you'll recall from LAX, this meant unpacking the black bag (the zipper breaks), and opening Elana's easel (which also had broken during our visit with Ben--one of the nuts fell off, so one leg of the easel was swinging down near the floor, and Elana had to clutch it to her chest with both hands to avoid smacking unexpecting passers-by with a piece of wood). Midway security was lower on the competence scale than LAX had been, so we were the last people to our plane. Which meant bumbling down the aisle with our oversized bags (we decided not to fix the zipper this time, considering we would only have to unpack it as soon as we got on the airplane)..."Oh, sorry," "Excuse us," etc. Fortunately and unfortunately, we had the same flight crew to New York, so they immediately told me just to unpack the damn things and be done. Or words like that. Probably they were more polite than that.

The flight to New York again passed without incident, though I again was demolished at cards. Then we landed. And the REAL frustration began.

We went to wait for our bags and for Elana's uncle (really her second cousin's father and grandmother's brother-in-law, but her family is very big and very close, so this is a close relative), who was going to drive us from LaGuardia to Brighton Beach, where we were to stay with the aforementioned second cousin, Gyena, and his wife and two little children. Considering the tenor of the story to this point, you may have already guessed that neither arrived. Two of our bags did--one containing Elana's favorite clothes and one containing most of my clothes (although, in a veritable binge of poor planning on my part, no change of underwear)--but the bags containing most of Elana's clothes and my favorite clothes were nowhere to be found. As I was waiting for the bags to arrive, a heap of our other luggage at my feet, Elana was running around outside, trying to find her Uncle Misha, meanwhile talking to Gyena on the phone. He was saying, "He left at eight. He's there, just find him." So while she is outside peering into every car to see if it's he, the baggage conveyor stops, and we are those two bags short. She comes back to stay with the bags for a while, and I go to the lost baggage office to ask them if they know where my underwear is, and why it isn't here yet. She of course knows nothing, but does tell me that the next flight from Chicago would be arriving at 11:15. It was already 10:45 (we had been on the ground since about 9:30), and we had no other ride anyway, so we decided to wait. In the meantime, we continued to seek Misha with no success. Predictably, 11:15 came and went. The luggage from that flight came and went. We were still down two bags. All we could do was file a report, and we left in a taxi, their vague promise to try to find our bags still ringing in our ears.

Then our cab driver didn't know where he was going. My knowledge of New York's burroughs is admittedly limited, but one would think I wouldn't have to say, "No, that was the street" as many times as I did. Once, he stopped and reversed on the Belt Parkway. When we arrived at Gyena's house, it was about 1 AM. We came in quietly to avoid waking the children, and basically collapsed. The next morning, we had to be back at LaGuardia for a 10 AM flight to DC, where we were going for a weekend visit.

Still underwearless, we went via a Russian car service Gyena called for us (which was very nice) to LaGuardia for our US Airways flight. The day was already better. I called ATA baggage from the airport, and they told us they had found our bags, and that they had been sent to Boston by mistake. They would arrive at 12 or so that afternoon, and would be delivered to Gyena's house. So we would leave before they would arrive, but that was okay...at least they were found. And, I remarked to Elana, actually much luckier than we were. After all, our bags got to go to Boston instead of New York (always preferable), AND they had a ride to Gyena's house. Speaking of which, we also found out that Misha was okay, and had of course not simply ditched us. His car had broken down on the way to the airport. It was a bit curious that he did not call anyone to tell of this seemingly important event, but Gyena told us later he did not call because he did not want to wake the babies. Never mind the fact that Gyena has a cellphone.

Our trip to DC was a welcome respite. We stayed with good friends Jeff and L in Virginia, and had lots of fun hanging out with them and swapping files and horribly-fired stories. Interesting note to those of you from LA: we ran into Steve Glickman on the subway. He was also only there for the weekend from New York. Bizarre. We also visited my grandmother and my mother (who was also in town). It was wonderful to see them both, and as we had already said goodbye to my mother in Denver, this felt like a free visit with her. Kind of a treat. Seeing my grandmother was, as always, emotionally enriching. She really has her priorities straight, and inspires us both quite a bit.

Our return to New York was blessedly uneventful, and we arrived back at Gyena's house (this cab driver knew where Brighton Beach was) to find our luggage waiting for us. At that point I could fathom how the Jews felt when they first beheld the land of milk and honey after generations of slavery in Egypt, though perhaps to a lesser extent. We made good use of the subway and managed to see a good number of friends in New York. Molly came up from Princeton to see us, and we had a fantastic time chatting with her and running around central park and a good chunk of Manhattan. We also managed to see Lee at Columbia (with whom we suddenly found ourselves in the Italian Parade for some obscure saint) and Laurel (and met Laurel's boyfriend, David, who seems like a really great guy--they have the fattest, sweetest cat in the world. Later on, they showed us Old School, which I am ashamed to say I enjoyed). Ben, Dan and Bry came all the way from Boston to see us, and we all met up at Steve Berns' luxury penthouse at Mount Sinai with Lindsay and all together met up with Ali W. the next day. We had a super time hanging out with them, and we're really touched and happy that they made such an effort to see us. All in all, by the time we were due to fly to Israel, almost all of the bad feelings we got from our original trip out to the East Coast had been wiped away by our friends and by Gyena and Anna's hospitality.

We arrived at JFK a good three hours before our flight. Good thing, too. The first thing that happened was that El Al could not find our reservation. After a passing doctor saved my life with an on-the-spot triple bypass, they found our reservation after all. "Ooops...sorry," was what they said. Unfortunately, we had made our reservations over the phone, and Elana's name had been misspelled as "Telman" (seeing as how her passport and drivers license still said Pelman, it seemed easiest not to make the reservation in her married name). After the original prognostications of doom ("She cannot fly. You will have to buy another ticket.") we talked to security, explained the problem, and it was all cleared up. It reminded me of how I got my student visa in New York. I had gone to the Consulate with all my papers and everything, and filled out the forms. Then the guy behind the counter asked me where I lived. I said, Colorado. He looked very exasperated and said words to the effect of, "No, no, no, I cannot give you a visa here! You must go to the Consulate in Los Angeles! (Note: I would have, but did not have my Hebrew U. acceptance letter yet. He continued:) Also, you are leaving on the 22nd? This is not nearly enough time. I cannot give you a visa." He looked up at this point, and I'm not sure exactly what he saw; I was already calculating how I would have to send everything to Los Angeles, beg them to rush order it or something, but he clearly saw something in my face, because he hastily reassured me, "Oh, no no no, I will give you a Visa. I'm just telling you that, you know, I can't! Wait here." Half an hour later he emerged with my student visa in my passport. Usually it takes weeks. This is why I love Israelis. So, anyway, we made our way through security (El Al's posted baggage size limit actually matches the reality of the bulkheads), got on the plane, and flew to Israel.

There is something about this land, so much so that even the dirt I saw from the plane provoked an emotional reaction. Something to the effect of...sure, it's just dirt. But it's our dirt. Elana's aunt and two uncles (again, the terms are used loosely: in this case, one uncle, Grisha, is her grandfather's younger brother, and the other uncle, Zev, is Grisha's daughter Alla's husband. The aunt in this case is Valya, Grisha's wife.) They picked us up in two cars and took us to Grisha and Valya's home in Ashdod.

Ever since arriving, everybody has been of tremendous help. Valya added us to her "family" with a cellphone company, so we could get cellphones at a cheaper rate than we would have as non-Israelis (this was today). Zev has driven us all over the place, including to Jerusalem, to check out Elana's school. He has also helped us look for apartments. We still don't have one, but we are on the right track. We are buying a car from our friend Shaul's son Ori on Thursday or Friday, so we will finally have a modicum of independance. I also have to mention Alla as someone who has been very helpful, and Elana's cousins (really her second cousins) Tova, Liat and Eden (age 20, 16, and 4) as wonderful people it has been a lot of fun to get to know. Elana once said to me (jokingly, I thought) that had we had the wedding in Israel, we would have had the same number as we had in America from her family alone. I now see that she was more or less not exaggerating at all. She's related to half of Ashdod, I think, and this is just from her grandfather's side. It's great to have a network of people in place who really want to be helpful. I'm immensely grateful for all their support.

I think that's about it. Most of you are probably here because you received an email from me which contains our cell numbers, but if for some reason you don't have them let me know. Remember, it is expensive for you (but not for us) for you to call us on the cells, so unless you need to get a hold of us immediately email is your best bet.
- posted by @ 9:36 PM