Raising A Child - Love And Other Things

 חֲנֹךְ לַנַּעַר, עַל-פִּי דַרְכּוֹ

My mum stayed with us for more than a month and when she left last Sunday, I felt like a child, who needed comfort so much, that did not know what to do. I was putting Ezra to sleep while I felt like a child myself who needed his mum right away to soothe him to sleep.

Once my old friend said that she was panicked when realised now she was a mother herself and had to take care of her newborn baby - not just physically, but mentally. 

Honestly, changing diapers and nursing are not that hard (well, they ARE, but not exclusively), giving your child right direction, right education, that is called Chinuch in Hebrew, are indeed.

Every once in a while I also get terrified of being parent and the great responsibility I hold towards my children. 

Will I be able to provide each of them exact things that they need? Will I be able to bring the each one up according to its character as Great King Solomon says, you should train/raise your child according to its own way.
Rabbiner Shimshon Raphael Hirsch brings example of Esav and Yakov, twin brothers whom the Same mother had born. They were brought up in a Same environment and got Similar chances to become what they had to become. Yet, Esav was a wicked man, who could fool his father easily and pretend he was righteous too asking very smart questions, while Yakov became the Patriarch of not only Jewish people, but anyone, who recognises the Bible (let alone Jacob is one of the popular names) by being good man and working on his traits. My personal favourite achievement of his is defeating an Angel or himself, shall I say his Ego, because I am of that opinion, which believes Yakov fought himself at that very night. He had to fight his fears, shortcomings and only afterwards could he win over Esav and his mighty powers, which would later become Rome. I got little carried away, sorry; what I meant to say was, that Rabbi Hirsch talks about those two brothers and suggests, that if they were brought up not Similarly, but in a way that would be suitable for each of them, Esav's story might have been different. He doesn't criticise Yitschak and Rivka's chinuch directly, but only suggests his view on it.

Every child has its own way definitely; he has his very own temperament, character and mission as well.
But now let me look at all this from the point of parents, who also have their own way of upbringing, which is subconsciously caused by the way they were brought up. Some people try to oppose their upbringing while some admire their own parents' methods and keep educating the generation "traditionally". I am not to judge any of them.
I believe one should find its own way (again!) of parenting. From what I've gathered last 2,5 years of parenting, this is a BIGGEST challenge one may have in life, because it is about your most closest person, the one you brought into this world and now are about to make it comfortable in it, right? So, you absolutely want to make the best of it. Everyone wants to be the parent of a leader, winner, genius, and so on... but only very few are.

Do I too? Surely, but as Isaiah put beautifully, I created you and I shall bear you. My children will always be the best to me ananyway.

As for children, they don't need nervous and uptight parents, who make them anxious too. They want to see self-confident, strong-willed and intelligent ones, who can make rules and sometimes even break them. It will take years for children to honestly love and really appreciate their parents, I can tell from my personal experience, but they will if they were brought up with love. As one very wise woman told me once, you can never go wrong with love! First, love yourself, she said, otherwise you can't love your fellow people. 

So this is when I sort of calmed down and let myself relax a bit :-)
Yes, I am a big girl now, although it doesn't bother me to miss my mum and want her to pet my head and massage my tired mama back. 

I am mum myself of two clever and sunny boys, who I want to give my best, make them feel secure and happy, but I also realise that I cannot do everything. I cannot be the best mum in the world, because they will have issues in life, they will get hurt, they will be upset and I might be the one who will contradict, criticise and preach them too.
We are all human and it is fine.
Fine as long as there's love and we know about it - parents and children alike.

Yes to raising a child on its own way, as you say - and do it with love, I say :-)

(Have I been finishing my posts with rhyming lately? So funny!)

Little before Rosh Hashanah

It's month of Elul for us, less than 10 days left before Rosh Hashanah and the judgment day - doesn't it sound scary?
It is indeed.

I've been thinking and analysing things so much lately. Millions of bees have been buzzing in my brain (if it's a correct way to express my state of mind) and asking so many questions I couldn't answer.
The month before Rosh Hashana is supposed to be the time for meditation, changing one's character traits and shortcomings that one knows should be changed. It's time to think more and talk less.
I don't have much time for thinking because I'm mum, you know, of the 16 months old energetic boy who needs my attention all the time.
But I also know that it doesn't mean I can slip away from Elul having those reasons mentioned above. I don't want either - I want to change myself and move forward as a better person.

Sometimes I have a feeling that everything is illusion though.
Everything, especially religion.
Just look into their philosophies - starting from my very own Judaism and finishing with most modern religions - don't they all have same content?
Don't most of their authorities brainwash the mass conscious?
Don't most of them ignore women?
And in the end everyone is expecting Messiah, which gets so annoying, I wish I could ask G-d, what's all that for? Are we just puppets? Why are we so weak that can't make it without Messiah who should come and do the work for us?

I have one favourite rabbi (I have VERY few of them) Osher Baddiel - great old English man emigrated from Germany before the WWII. He gave shiurim to us couple of times in the midrasha and talked a lot about Mashiach/Messiah that is to come and redeem us all. Rav Baddiel was little sarcastic, but brilliantly explained that no-one's coming to redeem us like we expect: nobody will come and bring heaven on Earth. Messiah isn't/won't be son* of G-d, that's for sure (since we're all G-d's children in general) and he won't be walking on a water... he won't do the work for us either, he said. G-d has created this world in a way that we should sweat working and overcome obstacles before us.
In short, redeemer is mostly in us - it's our soul, our willpower and our desire to work on ourselves, help others and live according to Torah.

I absolutely loved Rav Baddiel's points of view, although he made sure that Mashiach definitely will come, as it's promised, but not in a way most people believe.

Yes.
Older I get less I believe in changing the world while I can't even change myself (do I really try?). Little Elul is left and I hope to get some strength and time to have meaningful Rosh Hashanah.
Or just let Mashiach come, and soon, please!


*with all respect to my Christian readers - this doesn't mean to reassure or upset you. We all should believe in what or who we believe in. Diversity is beautiful.

Forgetting your name

I heard someone I truly respect saying that we, modern people, especially from, so called, first world, tend to be very self-centered and pay too much attention to social services and etc. He also said that we become very easily frustrated when somebody forgets our name, or spells it incorrectly. I listened to him and then said I didn't agree, because it is natural for a person to be conscious about its name and want others to remember it correctly. If somebody forgets your name or doesn't bother itself to spell it properly, it means that person is inattentive, shallow and above all, doesn't care about you enough to bother oneself and memorise the name, I said.

The other day Ezra and I went grocery shopping and ran into a very lovely girl. She's not exactly friend of mine or anything, but she's one of the few people I hug. I mean, Germany is not very hugging country, even people who emigrated here have become (or essentially were) icy cold and which hugging you ask for, when they even forget to greet you. You know, it is nice to hug friends and be hugged too. This girl has always been different - very polite and kind. We know her family and been invited for dinner once too, and I felt quite close to them -- lovely people.
Anyhow, we saw her at the supermarket and went to greet her. We talked about this and that, then her phone called, it was another mutual friend of ours, who happened to be there too and wanted to join us. Sure, this girl said, we'll wait for you. Apparently, the person on the other line asked, who were "we", because my friend hesitated and blushed, couldn't answer immediately and turned to me, asking what was my name. She then apologised thousand times, she said it was because we hardly see each other and she didn't know how could she forget my name.

I remember back in school I had a really nice teacher, but she called me Sofia all the time. It used to upset me really, I tried to explain her politely it was Sophie, but she never seemed to hear. So I started to dislike her even though she was always nice to me and I even liked talking to her about different subjects.

 

Now suddenly I was happy. I know, this is crazy, but it was like illumination for me, seriously -- because I experienced exactly same what my friend was talking about the other day. I realised I didn't mind much someone forgetting my name, not because I am so humble that didn't think of myself important (no I am selfish enough, trust me), but I thought I shouldn't judge people in any case. You never know reasons - she might have been tired, or sick or anything, or we really don't see each other that often so she could have my name in her head all the time.

Well, mostly I felt happy because I sort of fought over my conscious self, didn't get upset and assured her it was all right while sometimes we even forget our own names, let alone others'. Don't we? ;)

Scary Schimmel

I am almost sure many of you have seen those American movies about girls moving to Europe or exchanging apartments with, let's say, British people and etc. And behold, disaster - rusty sewerage system, molded walls, squeaky doors - come over as soon as they move in.

This is old lousy Europe.

If finding a flat in the west Germany is almost impossible, over here, in the east, there are plenty of apartments one can rent (after millions of people left for the west in 90's). Comparing to the western prices, the eastern ones are quite reasonable. Did I say reasonable? Nothing is reasonable in life if you really ask me. It's all about us searching for reasons, but never finding them and making up our own.

Anyway, the story is about our apartment. We've been living here since June of 2011. I liked this place at the first sight just because there were 7 memorial stones of 7 people deported to different concentration camps on the doorstep. It meant so much to me and my husband to rent a flat in a house where 7 Jewish people lived, loved, suffered, and then were thrown out from their own homes like they were nothing. 6 of them were executed in Auschwitz and 7th one, Salomon Weininger, if I remember his name correctly, actually fled from the camp back to Leipzig and was hiding for couple of months before he got caught again and was sent to Latvia, where he joined other 6.000 000 Jews in heaven.
So imagine how symbolic it was for us, orthodox Jews, living in this place and keeping the Torah commandments everyday - so uplifting for those perished souls.

Now realistically, the flat was quite cheap, near the synagogue and our community centre, which is important for us to be able to walk there on Shabbat. It was sunny with high ceilings and very comfortable kitchen. So we rented it and moved in after the wedding. Summer was great, Autumn was also lovely, but Winter - that's when the walls in the kitchen and bathroom started to mold. Scary. But we fixed them and lived on. Then we had Ezra in April. Sooner came Summer and we still lived sunny life, so was our second Autumn too.
Ooh, Winter again.
All this mold began to come out since December 2012 and we just can't stop it. We painted the wall, spreyed the liquid to exterminate it, but it would appear in a month's or less time. So unpleasant and not good for health.

When I started cleaning for Pesach the other day, I discovered that in every room behind the heating batteries walls are molded, some less, some more. Then we called the "Hausmeister" who would be the guy in charge about technical things of our house. Now he has to come with some guy who could fix and take off the mold if it's possible. I hope they will not tell us it needs to be seriously repaired and all. It's just before Pesach time and I am beginning to get very nervous, I definitely don't want people coming over and do capital repairs.

Wish us luck in finding new flat - CLEAN and in a good condition not like this old moldy one. Because even the 7 memorial stones and all the romantic stories I imagine can't make us live here anymore.

Purim then and now, and always

Old Midrasha Purim 2011 - my friend and then room-mate Liora "Pippy Long stockings" and me "self made pirate or Clint Eastwood vs Moshe Dayan", scary!

It's been snowing like mad for two whole days or even more. So I very much doubt we're taking Ezra to the Purim dinner at the community centre. We can't definitely move the stroller in this snow, our car is also covered with beautiful fluffy whiteness, plus the baby car seat got really small and uncomfortable for Ezra. Usually we don't get to ride in car with our dad that often, we mostly use public transport which is a blessing in Germany. Always on time, clean and clear.

As for Purim itself. It's magical. If you remember, the story takes place in Shushan, place in Persia, where it must have been very hot and nothing like Germany. Anyway, thousands of years later we're still in exile, thousands of miles away from Persia as well, and still, all the Jews celebrate Purim the same: reading megillat Esther, singing, children making lots of noise with groggers, everyone dressing up like queen Esther or Mordechai, King Achashverosh or evil Haman, and so on.

As it most of the time happens to me, I packed up the mishloach manot and then remember I had to take photos. Well, missed it.

All right, and what did I make?
1) Lemon cupcakes (although my husband is not fond of it, he liked it this time)
2) MUST have Hamantaschen
3) Gozinaki - traditional Georgian sweet made of honey and various nuts and seeds.

What else did I put in Mishloach Manot?
4) Fruits
5) Teabags
6) Fruit juice (you're supposed to give drinks)

Someone told me the other day that Purim is the day when one has to pray a lot because it's time when your prayers are heard. Then she added, don't waste your Sunday on wrapping up the presents, but pray.
That's when I realised me and that person would never get along. Not that I am very bad at praying, actually I am, no, that person just ignored the idea behind mishloach manot. Hey, it's not just wrapping up presents and getting rid of them, but putting all you heart and soul to make people happy. That is definitely my idea of it. So I skip praying part and go directly to wrapping up which I've already done.

You know what? There are no special times for praying. G-d hears us ANYTIME we're ready to talk. He's not an Oberburgermeister (kind of mayor for German cities) who has specific times to receive audiences and listen to them. He's not HUMAN, people, He just was, is and will be, remember? Purim is absolutely about coming together, having good time, sing, dance, laugh and give each other presents, not only material, but just a hug, or smile, or say a funny joke and make somebody's moody day.

Happy Purim!!!

P.S. I guess I am dressing up as a Persian lady today, have no other choice anyway, my mother couldn't come this time and we're left without our Purim clothes - Georgian national costumes, that was. Hopefully next time.

Happiness or joy

Today was the day when Ezra acted like little me. I couldn't make him nap when he was supposed to, refused to nurse and all he wanted was to play and giggle. No nap means he becomes hyperactive and I have to keep up with him which is not that easy after being sleep deprived, and still loads of household stuff to do. That's when I think I am going to lose it whatever this might mean.
On days like today I just can't wait when evening comes and put baby to sleep so I can have some time for myself a bit.

 

After Ezra fell asleep today and I also took half an hour nap, sort of felt better and started to pick up the photos to make our family album. It's a shame that we haven't even done our wedding album but my husband's colleague did and gave us as a present. Her husband is an amateur but still takes amazing pictures, so they made an album for us which was very nice. More kudos to Germans, who are actually quite honest and nice people. Although two photos in this post were taken by my sweet friend from Bulgaria, Masha Vasileva.

  

I found myself smiling all the time when I looked at our wedding photos. I tend to forget what a beautiful day it was and how happy we were. Some say, happiness is temporary and what one must do is to be joyful - because that is eternal, but I think it was such a mesmerizing moment filled with happiness, joy, excitement and LOVE all the same that nothing could ever make it different.

It wasn't that long ago actually, year and a half, as a matter of fact, but sometimes it seems like it was centuries ago when we used to be young, beautiful and slim (talking about myself)...
Now I know, whenever I am tired or down, or just sick of this heavy world, I should look at those photos and make myself as sunny as I should be.

Doctors and power

Do you dislike doctors like I do?

Only doctor I like in Germany, is the pediatrician of Ezra, who is really nice and positive lady.
Thank G-d, I haven't visited many doctors here, but my husband and his family have. Then, in my pregnancy I had a gynecologist, Frau Dr. Schindler (remembering the history, her name sounds so humane, no?), who seemed quite fine, but she didn't really care that much about my health, I think. Either she was very relaxed naturalist or just not giving a damn about this weird religious Jewish patient covering her hair and all. Well, because of her attitude, that she hasn't checked the amniotic fluid which was actually infected, I gave birth to Ezra 3 weeks earlier, on my 37th week. Again, thanks to Hashem, Ezra was born healthy and happy baby, 10/10 apgar test, but he was born very tiny which almost caused me depression: you know, every mother would have felt that way, eating herself up, why should her baby have been born so early and so small, wouldn't she?

So I left that Frau Dr. Schindler and went to other doctor for the 6 weeks postpartum check up. This lady also seemed ok, serious and very friendly. Then she asked us which contraception we'd like to choose; she suggested 3 months injection, IUD (copper spiral) and mini-pills since I was nursing. We decided to take mini-pills, Cerazette, you might have heard.
It was one of the terrible experiences I ever had.
First, postpartum period is very hard for every woman and it was even worse for me. I couldn't forget the fact of giving birth before the due date and had nightmares, nursing awfully hurt, Ezra had colicky and wouldn't sleep, needed to be nursed and soothed almost every hour; in addition with all that, I started to bleed really badly after taking those pills.
I don't quite blame the doctor, she couldn't have known the side effects of the mini-pills, because every body responds differently, but suggesting 3 months injection was very cunning, you know, because you buy pills in the pharmacy store, but 3 months injection you need to get from her - which means, she gets paid for it.
Then I had to have injection to stop bleeding. So I quit taking mini-pills and started to require new contraceptive, which took quite a time and energy from us.
[After making a little research, I've discovered that hundreds of women had same experience with Cerazette, but doctors still keep prescribing it giving credit to this scary drug company. The company probably, in return, gives credits and loads of advantages to doctors.]

I should note that in the beginning of my pregnancy, I had private insurance which made Frau Dr. Schindler happy, but by the end of 35th week, I switched to the government insurance that doctors really hate. I think this might have been the reason of her not bothering herself to check the amniotic fluid. I could say the same about other Frau Dr. L. who is less "naturalist", but moneylover all right.
I might be sarcastic right now, but if you imagine how terrible results could be when doctor makes mistakes, you wouldn't laugh. It is scary to know that some people love money more than their profession, or worse, they have chosen this profession only because they would get more money than others.

Now I am afraid to visit gynecologists again. I try to have trust in them, and as my teacher used to say, I should remember and pray that G-d would be with the doctor when visiting for check-up. I don't doubt that if I ask, G-d will be there for me as He always has been, but I am a human too, you know, simple mortal, who is afraid of many things and probably hasn't developed that strong bitachon (meaning: unconditional trust to G-d) yet to really know - doctors don't have any power at all, but He does.

Say that again, Soph!!!

Learning to love

I think I am learning to love. It's weird to realize that it took me 27 years to learn how to love.
Ezra taught me. When I look into his eyes and see my reflection, I know that even if I failed in my career and never found the job I wanted, I have got him.

It's not always that easy though. Ezra and I went to supermarket yesterday and met my mother in law outside the train station. When we stepped on the escalator to go down where that supermarket is, we talked. Suddenly some afroamerican man started to shout at us. It appeared that he was standing behind us and because I took little more time to move Ezra's stroller over, I blocked his way. Man, was he rude. He definitely heard us talking in different language and realized we weren't Germans, that's how he got chutzpa to shout. I did not tell him anything back. I felt awful. You know why? First thing that came to my mind was the line from O'Henry's story where the Doc tells to the Yankee: "You freed our slaves and fought with them against us". I am the least intolerant or racist person but I absolutely shared the anger of the Doc about freeing the slaves. I know one single stupid man doesn't mean anything but you must be very cruel and evil to shout at the woman with the baby.
Note well, that Germans, especially old people in a public transport or shops have been extremely nice to me and Ezra so far.
So when people complain about Germans, I often tell them that they haven't done anything worse [to the Jews] than other nations (e.g. Spanish inquisition, Ukrainian kazaks with Khmelnitsky or Bandera...), they were just better organized as they always are.
I live in Germany since 2009 and have never faced any racial problems with Germans, but emigrants/immigrants have been ruder very often.

So yesterday I did not love people. I hated one of them.

I've always been an advocate for racial or religious tolerance. I've always been saying that the world belongs to each and every human being, therefore one can choose to live wherever one would like to. I have indeed lived in various countries of Europe and even though some say Europeans tend to be racists, I've never had any problems with this for local people were always very nice to me.
Now I'm hesitating about supporting emigration. I even doubt if the whole world is ours and we can live anywhere...
This time I felt so small realizing that I don't actually have country of my own. Neither I speak the national language nor am I citizen of it which makes me somewhat of an alien, doesn't it?
I wrote to a friend in Georgia the other day saying that we will probably never know what it's like living in a normal democratic country, happy and peaceful, we are such poor offspring of post-soviet utopia.

Eretz Israel.
Eretz Israel.
Eretz Israel.
When are we going to go back home, Dad? Are we at all?

So, I stopped loving the world right away. Our sages were so wise advising, first, learn to love your close ones, your nation and then go loving and saving the world.
I am not saving it anymore!
I am learning to love myself and my people properly.

Since then

I decided to open up all curtains after pocketful of rain and get down to blogging. Literally. There was quite a rain today in Leipzig.
It's been more than a month I've blogged and since then our life has changed for good.
Last post was published on 2nd of April and two days later, after all that water breaking story you have seen in movies, I gave birth to a tiny baby boy at Leipzig's Uniklinikum.
So that makes me a brand new mum.
Labour is tough. Even though my delivery was so quick you wouldn't believe; it still was painful and took me several weeks to get over it. I used to have nightmares and emotional outbursts such as crying about everything and feeling very tender. Some call it babyblues, some may call it postpartum thing and I call it - Sophieish nerves.

Chronologically:
on Wednesday morning (04.04.12) when my husband and I were to go shopping after breakfast and get a buggy, I woke up with terribly swollen feet and water flowing underneath. Not usual water as we all know from the movies, but different and much less than that.
I was due 20 days later and never in my mind did I expect baby to come so early, especially two days before Pesach. Not suitable time at all while we were not done with the festival cleaning. I did not want it to happen like that, I wanted to control my body, but ironically nobody can do that even me (man, this self-confidence is killing me!).
Even at the hospital when midwife was smiling and calming me down I did not believe I would give birth so early. Even then when baby stuck out his head and I thought this would never end I still thought it was too early and I would push him back if I could. Insane. I know.
Well, baby did not think so. He definitely had his reasons to break away and spend Pesach with his parents. It was difficult, but with G-d's help we managed it. My husband did his best shlepping all the yom tov food to the hospital (for food all the credit to Emma Chandalov and Tora Zentrum von Leipzig), we had our fresh family seders there and I would say it was the best time I have ever had.

Leipzig's Uniklinikum is very recommended to everyone who thinks can handle many people and keep nice to the medical students who come in and out checking baby's and your blood pressure, smiling and being very nice all the time, almost every hour. Everyone was so friendly and smily there, you would forget you're in Germany. It did not feel very hospitalish, let me tell you, rather homely.

Now it's been almost 6 weeks we've been home and break away baby's name is Ezra, giving tribute to Avraham Ybn Ezra's father and to Ezra haSofer that's been so inspiring all the way.
What else can I say?
Being mum is so personal. Everything is very private, sometimes hard, but still very sweet.

2012 Purim, Ok and that's all for now

This year's been full of changes and saying this I feel like deja vu all the time. I think since 2010 my life's been going through such changes that one may go crazy. As for myself - do not worry, never heard someone went in the same water twice as they say.

Anyway, Purim was good, but as every other festival, you wait for it forever and it lasts for a second, then the celebration is gone and you're left with the hope of next and better one. Oh, and loads of chametz to finish till Pesach.


Yes, I baked loads of Hamantaschen this year for Purim and hope people liked them. We had them for Shabbat dessert too and my husband thought they were good enough; since he's only fond of a Russian type of creamy-sweets and fat tarts, it sounded quite as a compliment.
Making Gozinaki did torture me though. I stayed up till late to make it proper so that one could've given away. You need patience to make a good Gozinaki, trust me as I come from "the land of nuts and honey". In the end it came out delicious indeed and hope, people who tried it did not regret knowing me.
That's how our Purim went.
We had this very extraordinary Purim hopping party where we visited three families of our community. Each one of them had a very original idea for food and drinks, there were Russian, Mexican and USA snacks. Very enjoyable, truly. I love Leipzig community more and more, relaxed and family-like, you can be in your shoes and be happy if you know what I mean. Usually it is always hard to stay in your shoes and not to try some fancier ones but the thing is I've always preferred my mainstream shoes to others' couture ones so I like Leipzig better than any other place I've ever lived; even in Tbilisi you get depressed about shoes and all the material crap that is. Well, it's not about the shoes you can always tell.
So right now I absolutely second east Germany.

Pesach is coming up so are some of my important dates and it makes me nervous how am I supposed to clean and prepare everything with my growing self? :) Then I just remember I should not worry and stress myself, but let it go and as I've read here, just feel OK, because when I am OK, everyone else around is OK too.
OK?

Lights will guide you home

This post is dedicated to the memory of Sylvia Plath - my late inspiration.

Sipping my Earl Grey while there are words of the Coldplay's "Fix You" in my mind.
Trying to believe that lights will guide me home... home... There have been major changes in my life. Since March 23rd I've been engaged to get married. I am to be a wife. I am to be the one warming up home and making it into the coziest place for my husband and most irresistible castle for the non-friends.

I am so grown up while I still sometimes feel like this little Georgian girl wandering around the world who used to look for the light. Light guiding home, light guiding to the heart of the person who could be the light itself.

What does every girl dream of? Finding a perfect guy, to love and be loved. To get married, wear a white gown and feel like the queen of the universe knowing this must be the best day of her life.
I've never dreamed of wedding actually. All I ever wished was to marry a guy who would be worth of dedicating my life.
There is very famous German scholar Rabbi Hirsch who said love is something to come after marriage, after the time two people become one and I cannot agree more, but before two becoming one you need chemistry between those two; you need this divine or, let us say, physical attraction that makes them committed to each other.

Life is all about seeing the light and letting it guide you through darkness. We all know spiritual and mental darkness is the worst of all. Just have finished Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar" and once more realised that life is so hard especially for intelligent women. You may go insane by every little thing that comes your way and does not go your way if you know what I mean. More you think less you know.

Then you just sip off your Earl Grey and loving the last drop of it - bittersweet and so English tasting - warms you up and guides you to serenity. If there is any serenity at all. It is all up to you.

Eli7's B-day

Our snacks

Yesterday our madricha Elisheva had a birthday. She's really sweet person, always there for us, full of energy and fun. It happened to be Rosh Chodesh on the same day, so we couldn't let this day pass without celebrating.
Leah made a cake, we also had chocolate fondue - so delicious... mmmmmmm... crackers, cookies, fruits and all. Then Zsolt Balla and his wife Marina joined us. He played guitar with Keren, who plays Domra, this weird russian national instrument. You can even watch the video I made yesterday.
At 11 party was almost over... almost - because Dvora and I decided to dance and have fun. You know I'm fond of dancing or rather sliding on the floor and be happily crazy or crazily happy :D

So, I wish all the best to Elisheva, and to the other girls too!!! I love being here in this cold and scary Germany, I feel I should be here now. It's the right time and place to me, G-d willing.

Berlin - as I see it

Brandenburg Gate

Bundestag

Only one of him is alive soldier

Today I went to the upper east side of Berlin, where are Reichstag, German Parliament and other historic buildings. When I was standing there on Pariser Platz, I felt sudden heartbeat, I looked at people who were walking, smiling, talking, taking pictures... there was time 60 years ago when this place was bombed, millions of people got killed. I've never felt something like that before. May be it's because that Germany has been dominant country of the modern history. Germany had begun both world wars. It is a country which makes you think about many things - even about your personality, who you are, what you are and where are you going to end up, if you know what I mean.

Even though I did not like Berlin very much at the beginning, now I can see that it was meant to be for me to come here and find my own self. Berlin is quite a city - clean and cold. So I hope I'll be able to clean my soul and never become cold, you know. Life is full of challenges and they make me better, stronger and wiser for sure.

I hope you all try to find something in places where you live which will motivate you for doing and being good.