Showing Mom Israel, Part 2

Before my mom had her first falafel or shawarma, I introduced her to what I consider Israel’s greatest contribution to the culinary world: the schnitzel sandwich.

I grew up in the American South, where the fried chicken sandwich is basically a rite of passage. So naturally, one of the first foods I fell in love with after moving to Haifa was Israel’s version: crispy chicken schnitzel tucked into a fresh baguette with hummus, Israeli salad, red cabbage, pickles, harif, and enough tahini to make a delicious mess.

Mom’s verdict: “That ain’t bad.”

When I knew my mom was coming to visit, I decided that I didn’t just want to show her the famous places—I wanted her to understand why I’ve fallen in love with this place. With ordinary Israel.

Picking her up from the airport meant two trains and a bus each way. Eight hours after we’d left home, she was finally sitting in our third-floor walk-up in Haifa.

Over the next few days, I showed her the everyday version of our life. We wandered through the neighborhood, browsed at the hardware store, picked up prescriptions, bought groceries at the shuk, and stopped for iced coffee at our favorite cafe.,

I took her to my office so that she could see where I work. For over a year and a half, she’s heard stories about my projects snd deadlines, but she’d only seen the hospital through video calls. It’s even more impressive in person. I showed her the gardens, which are still overflowing with blooms despite the suffocating heat of the past two weeks. I showed her the quiet beach where I like to go for a chocolate croissant. I also showed her the NICU where Baby ש spent his first days and where my husband and I became parents.

She also got to see the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.

Then, we went to Jerusalem.

I’ll admit something that might ruffle a few feathers: Jerusalem has never been my favorite city. (No shade if you love it; just don’t revoke my darcon, please) I find it loud and overwhelming, but seeing it through my mom’s eyes reminded me what it felt like to visit it for the first time.

We walked down Jaffa Street, casually dropping in and out of the shops. We wandered around Mahane Yehuda, weaving our way through the crowds before stopping at overflowing produce stands and the olive guy. Mom tried a lychee. We went on a tour of the market and experienced the flavors of home brought to Israel from across the world. She had her first falafel, beautifully golden on the outside and bright green on the inside, and hummus, bli harif. We walked through the narrow streets of the Old City, where she stopped every few minutes to stare at stones that are older than America. She stood in front of the Western Wall. She felt the energy in the city and her wonder was infectious.

Just under two years ago, I landed in Israel, moving to a country that I’d never visited before. Just under two years ago, I was the one discovering these places. Just under two years ago, I was the new girl trying to find my way.

Now I’m the one saying, “You have to try this,” and “Let’s turn here.”

If you ask her directly, mom came to Israel to “spend time with Baby ש and help out.”1 For her, the most important part is being Savta, and that normalcy is one of the greatest gifts she’s ever given us.

One afternoon, my husband and I slipped out together to buy diapers. Without any family regularly on hand, this was the first time that we’d been anywhere without Baby ש in 12 weeks. For most folks, it would have just been an errand, but for us, it was nearly a date.

We held hands as we leisurely walked to the pharmacy sans stroller and diaper bag. We casually talked about what to make for dinner, and we took our time because, for 45 minutes, my mom was loving our baby boy.

She also caught a glimpse of the less glamorous side of living in our neighborhood when the nudnikim decided to throw rocks at us again, nearly triggering an international incident. Like I said, the good and the bad.

So yeah, when I think about my mom’s trip so far, Jerusalem isn’t the first thing that I think of. I think about chatting over our morning coffee. I think about showing her where I work and introducing her to schnitzel sandwiches, falafel, and Israeli cottage cheese. I think about watching her become a grandmother to our son.

Sure, our days together have been extraordinarily ordinary, but that might be what made it special. I wanted my mom to see the whole picture of our lives here. The real version—not just what lives in her imagination or is shaped by the headlines.

I think she gets it now.