When It Stops Being Vacation

It hit me like a ton of bricks last Wednesday. I got a card in the mail from my friend Christy (my first personal mail since I arrived), and I started to cry. I cried during my studies, I cried so much at the cafe that I kept having to go inside to get more napkins to mop up my tears, I cried on the phone to my Mom, and I cried into Keren's shoulder until she had to leave for an appointment.

I cried not because I am in Israel. I belong here, and I know that. I am home.

I cried because everyone who loves me and knows me really well is thousands of miles away. I cried because all of my friends and family are having their lives and doing their things and I am too far away to be a part of it. I cried, mostly, because they are NOT here.

There is no Mom to sit at a cafe with and talk to and joke with. There is no Dad to spend endless hours on the phone with, because, by the time I call him, it is very late here, and I am in school 5 mornings a week. There is no Bob and Jane and Hansje and Chris and Sirli et al to see at Karate, to remind me that I have friends. There is no little Grae to show me that I can love a child completely, when I thought they were all a pain in the ass before. There is no Lisa to call me with all the local Charleston dish. There is no Melissa to nag me into getting my dead ass out there and be sociable. There is no Mike to teach me Kung Fu and serve as a reminder that there are good men out there who understand me. There are no yoga clients who love me because I am NOT like other teachers, who can't imagine learning from anyone who is 'traditional'. There is no Karen, my best friend from four years old, to know me better than I know myself (a 9-hour time difference is a bitch). In short, I miss my people.

And the ridiculous, hackneyed platitudes that I am given make me INSANE. "It will get better", "You'll make new friends here", "It just takes some time".

Duh, people. I know that. But that doesn't change the fact that I am no longer feeling like I am on vacation. School has started, it is time to start working, my friends here all have lives of their own and can not be at my beck and call, and the reality of being so far away has set in.

Tel Aviv is no less beautiful than it was 6 weeks ago, and neither are the men. My friends here are still wonderful. The falafel is still fantastic. Learning Hebrew is fun and interesting, though sometimes a little frustrating. And, after six weeks of essentially camping in my apartment, having my stuff here from America is wonderful. Sleeping in my own bed. Eating with real silverware, not plastic. Having the rest of my yoga clothes, so I'm not wearing the same 3 things to class all the time. And, once I get the voltage changed on my washer and dryer, watch out, baby! I love doing laundry. It's like therapy.

In short, I miss you. Yes, you! Come visit. There is always room at ba'it suzanne (casa suzanne, chez suzanne, my house) for anyone who wants to see Tel Aviv, or Jerusalem, the Galilee, the Kineret, Eilat, and everything around and in between.

Real life is not a vacation. I knew that before I moved here. And things will get better. It just takes time. Yadda, yadda, yadda. (Seinfeld reruns are in heavy rotation here...shock!)