America is a country obsessed with health and fitness. On every block you’ll find a gym of one sort or another, and all the weekly trash mags are constantly touting the latest health craze (”The Stairmaster Colon Cleanse!”, “Arctic Yoga: Build an Igloo and Strengthen your Heart Chakra!”). But I’ll tell you something: even the fanciest, most high-tech gym in the ol’ U.S. of A. ain’t got nothin’ on the hike up my street.  I am not exaggerating when I say that Ramat HaGolan curves sharply into at least a 65 degree incline, which continues for a quarter mile.

Now, I’m not a gym rat by any stretch of the imagination, but I thought myself in remotely decent shape. Ha. This morning, I left my house particularly confident in my new hot pink skirt and carefully applied makeup, but by the time I pushed Yonah’s stroller up to the top of the street, I looked like Sigourney Weaver in “Ghostbusters” after she gets possessed by a demon.  Still, there was a distinct sense of satisfaction after I made it to the top of Mount Heart Attack, probably because I burned three days’ worth of calories and didn’t have to pay a cent.

I have a new best friend in Yossi Reter, my landlord from upstairs. We’ve had a little trouble getting money out from the local Bank HaPoalim, so Yossi has been driving me to the one in the French Hill, about 5 minutes away. During our little tiyulim (trips), Yossi talks a blue streak in Hebrew, telling me all about his family, his wife, pontificating on everything from the number of Jews who have won Nobel prizes to the convenience of EZ-Pass (which was patented in Israel, by the way). I understand almost everything he says, and I am becoming more confident in my ability to respond. At the bank today, he called Carmela on his cell phone to discuss their plans for the afternoon. Almost immediately, I could hear her talking a blue streak to him. He tried to break in, saying, “Ani Yachol Ligmor? Ani Yachol Ligmor?” (Can I finish? Can I finish?) he said. After they hung up, he shook his head and chuckled. “She’s the general,” he said. “Yeah,” I replied. “It’s the same in English as it is in Hebrew.”

I had a nice surprise this afternoon in the form of Seth Perkins, my sister Shira’s best friend, who’s made Aliyah to Israel seven months ago. Though Seth and I have met a few times and Skyped on occasion, we never had the chance to just sit down and talk. Today we got to do just that, and it was an absolute pleasure. I don’t want to embarrass him too much, but I will say that I completely understand why Shira loves him so much. Seth’s parents, Marlene and Gary, have opened their home many times to Shira, and I’m so happy to return the favor now for Seth.

In other news, I’m starting to settle in at school. It’s a nice mix of married and single women from all over the spectrum of Orthodoxy where a funky personality like me can make a niche for herself. Morning text study alternates between Chumash (The Five Books of Moses) and Navi (Prophets), followed by a shiur (literally “quantity”, but is used to describe a portion of learning, usually given in lecture form). Today was a Navi day, in which we studied the story of Chana.

Chana was a woman who suffered terrible pain due to her inability to conceive a child; desperate, she went to pray in the city of Shiloh, where the High Priest Eli saw her and accused her of being drunk (in those days, it was customary to pray out loud; Chana went and prayed in a whisper, which made her look like she was talking to herself). She explains to him that she is not drunk, but is praying from the depths of pain and anger. Eli gives her a blessing that she will have a child, and Chana goes home in peace. Later, she conceives a child, Samuel, who would later become a prophet of Israel. I was moved by this story for a many reasons, but the most poignant one is because it reminded me of my mother. For eight years, she and my father suffered from infertility. When doctors told them they would never have children, they were heartbroken. And then, miraculously, they had not only one child, but four. My mother raised us with immense joy, so appreciative was she that she had had children. Reading the story today, I could picture Chana’s happiness in finally having her son, the same happiness I saw in my mother every day of my life.

And finally, we have an American phone line! This means that you folks can call us without paying astronomical rates, if you so choose. Our new # is: 646-300-9951. Now that our phone and internet are all set up, I think we can officially say that we are all moved in. Hooray!