A few days after finishing our language course, and after what was ultimately two weeks of cleaning and tidying, we said goodbye to our first EVER real marital home, leaving it in the hands of a friend/lodger, and headed back to the UK. The intentions: 1. See new babies (Debs’ first nephew and my 2,416th niece). 2. See rest of family. 3. See friends and go to a friend’s wedding. 4. Make some money by working a bit!
For months before we left, Deborah was so excited to see the new Baby Joshua, yet I was hardly brimming with the excitement of going back – primarily because I was scared that we would realise what we were missing.
As our Jet2 budget plane with its plastic seats and amputee-only legroom came in to land in Manchester, we looked out of the window to see our old haunts – my student days in Fallowfield, the Hilton Hotel from our earlier dates, country walks in the Peak District and Winter Hill. And we landed to be met by eerily pleasant weather. The sun was setting, people were out in T-shirts, and the ground was dry! Someone had stolen Manchester. Probably a Scouser.
As we moved around the country, from Manchester to Liverpool to Chester to London to Manchester to Liverpool to Lake District to Liverpool to Manchester, we both suffered somewhat from the grass-is-always-greener syndrome; although of course, it literally is when you come to the UK from the Middle East.
The first shock was when I went into a bakery in Manchester. I queued up in a line (queue and line are two words that don’t feature prominently in Israeli culture), and when I got to the front, the smiling woman said, ‘Hi, what can I get you?’ So shocked was I not to have been greeted with ‘What?’ that I commented to her how nice her manners were. And these little miracles continued for the duration of our stay; cars that indicate before they turn, drivers who give way at give way junctions and people who say ‘thank you’ when you hold a door for them. Using bins is the norm, not the extraordinary, and most smokers are considerate enough to obey the law and go outside while they kill themselves.
Of course, despite our rapidly improving Hebrew, street signs, newspapers and adverts in English are so much easier to understand, and the cars were on the correct side of the road!
As we saw more people and places, it really struck home what we were missing. My nieces and nephews had all grown, although thankfully did seem to remember who we were. Our old homes were as inviting as ever, and Deborah’s cat Rupert still moped about on the grass (he’s famous by the way – you can see him on Google Maps Street View. Moping about on the grass.). The countryside from the luxurious high speed train seemed greener than ever, and the food in the supermarket was cheap! On top of all this, it hardly rained the whole time we were there.
After a week of seeing friends and having fun, it was time to earn our keep, and so we each went off to the temporary jobs we have taken for a four day stint of ‘damage limitation’, that is, to try and balance the books in some small way after half a year of unemployment, and to make a meagre attempt at retaining some small element of medical/pharmaceutical training (respectively) before it all seeps away through lack of use. So, having only been back in the UK for a week, we each commenced a week of real life – commuting, working and earning. One would think that long days of high pressure work, with little time to ourselves, rushing to get there in time, stressing over sick patients in unstable conditions, eating out of a plastic pot in a hot staffroom while Wimbledon / World Cup / other mind-numbing activity plays on the TV, would not be considered a good life. But bizarrely, after a long period of feeling useless and at a loose end, this was exactly what we both needed; I never really realised how important it is to have a purpose, albeit temporary, and coming back from the end of a long day, feeling that you had worked hard and earned the money that will feed and house you, is something we take for granted.
After three weeks in the UK, it was time to head back to Israel, but no more information about our long or short-term future than when we left – still waiting for licenses to start work, still with no idea of when the army will call me, not knowing whether we were going to start our medical ulpan or not, not even completely sure if our apartment would still be in the same position we left it in, we headed back into the unknown.
Despite the loveliness of seeing our family and friends, our trip back still felt a little bit like a kick in the teeth. A reminder of what we had given up. While we try to avoid getting into debt by buying cheaper vegetables, our friends are buying houses and nice cars. While we concentrate to get the gist of the news, to find out when we can collect our gas masks in case Ahmadinejad decides to try and destroy the world, our friends stress about whether to buy the iPhone 3G or wait for the newer model. Only yesterday, a couple of our close friends announced that they had decided to move to the US; and although we hate to hear it, and hate to see them give up on Israel, we understand why. Life here is more difficult than other places. It takes a lot of effort and a lot of courage.
But, despite all this, we don’t have a regret in the world. It’s tough, and it’s sometimes daunting being here. We are living a dream that, even if it doesn’t work out and we decide to leave, would have haunted us both for the rest of our lives if we didn’t give it a go. And we both know that until we give ourselves a real chance here, feel what it’s like to live here as a true Israeli, to work, pay taxes, vote, serve in the army, own a home, and even bring up a child, we’ll never really be in a position to judge and decide to live anywhere else. Like it or not, this is home. Sooner or later, for the Albert family to grow up in their homeland, where they descended from, where their forefathers lived and thrived, someone will have to make these sacrifices. We recently met for the first time some elderly relatives here who knew my great grandfather; they told me that he always dreamed of coming to live in Israel, but it never happened for one reason or another; it’s an honour to be the ones to attempt to make the dream come true.
As excited as I am to be coming back home, it's going to be tough to leave NY...I was here for 2 months. Things are so much cheaper here. But the fruits and veggies don't taste as good.
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to be back.