For some reason, I was under the impression that Israel was some kind of third world country where the cost of living was laughably low. I was enchanted by the thought of heading to the shuk (outdoor market) and trading bits of string or an old Debbie Gibson tape for my weekly groceries. Not so much. Rent prices are the same you’d find in any major American city, and food? Forget it. A 10-ounce block of tofu set me back almost four bucks. When I told the lady at the store that it was much less expensive in America, she shrugged at me and said, “That’s the price”. Guess she wasn’t a big Debbie Gibson fan.

My school is hosting a shabbaton this weekend for all of the students in Har Nof, a nearby section of the city, but Shuie and I have opted to spend this Shabbos at home. Though I’d like to get to know some of the other young marrieds I’m learning with, we still need some time to catch our breath after all the moving around we’ve been doing. Thankfully, we have an invitation for dinner Friday night at our new friends’, the Katz’s, so I won’t have to do as much cooking as usual.

Speaking of new friends, I have been searching the streets of Ramat Eshkol for potential posse-mates. The Mercaz Meschari (commercial center) is always filled with young mamas pushing strollers, so I’ve been taking The Bug out in the afternoons to check out the scenery. People here (mostly Anglos, by the way) are friendly enough, but many of the women are settled into their lives and may not feel the need to reach out to a stranger. I don’t take it personally, but the afternoons can sometimes stretch long with just Yonah to talk to. This afternoon in particular was a toughie; I was ready to climb the walls (which I was probably going to have to do anyway to get Buggy down from there). Then I remembered an ad that Shuie showed me last night in the local paper: a new playgroup starting in the neighborhood for 1-2 year olds. I dialed the number on the ad and spoked to a woman named Rachel, a lovely American from San Diego with a 15-month old son. While she wants her son to interact with other babies, Rachel confided to me that she had ulterior motives in forming the group. “I looked around and realized that yeah, I’ve been here for two and a half years, but I don’t really have any friends,” she told me. I practically shot my hand up into the air and said, “Oooh, oooh, oooh! I’ll do it!”. So, on Monday afternoon Yonah will hopefully make three new baby friends and I’ll make some new mommy friends.

My brother-in-law Shloimie is attending a Yeshiva a few doors down from us, and two of Shuie’s other sibs, Tovi and Nechemia, are both learning here in Jerusalem. While it’s difficult for me sometimes to be so far away from my family (I had my first brief bout of homesickness today), it’s a comfort to have my sibs-in-law so closeby. Last week, we had them all over for dinner, and Shloimie comes by nearly every day just to visit or throw in a load of laundry. In exchange for the free grub and courtesy washer/dryer, we are guaranteed a weekly babysitting gig, free of charge. Date night!

In Yonah news, many of you know that it’s been a struggle of sorts to get Yonah to use the sippy cup. Yesterday, Shuie had the brilliant idea of buying a bottle with handles. Voila! Yonah is rocking! Of course, Mommy has to warm up the milk first or The Prince won’t drink it. Besides babbling a blue streak, Yonah is also pushing himself up onto his knees and thrusting his torso into the air, his first efforts to stand himself up on his own momentum. Yonah has also discovered yelling. When he doesn’t want something, he scrunches up his face and lets you have it: “DADADMANADADADAAA!”. I don’t need my Babyspeak dictionary to know what that one means, but dang it, even when he’s angry, he’s the most delicious thing in the world.