A Glimpse

From the rise near the old Town Hall, I look back over the Old Town and spy several gleaming glass towers. The 21st c. exists across the river from this sleepy sunwashed antiquity. I quickly head past the market back to Zydu.

Yiddish storms in and out of my brain. When I’m on a roll, the letters fly out of my pen and phrases and sayings rush in to mind, complete with faces and voices of family.

Ode to Joy and the Brahms German Requiem are the soundtrack in class. More German than I thought, Yiddish even uses only certain letters for Hebraic words – to keep them holy? The rest of the alphabet (aleph-bays) is free to form the nearly vowelless words of Slavic and Teutonic origin.

Oh yes. When I am not on a roll Ich fargessen gantze – I forget it all, can’t read my writing or my work book with its eye destroying tiny print.

Between our two 1 ½ hour classes we have a lovely coffee break under huge umbrellas in a pretty courtyard. The courtyards of the University and the residential area nearby contain a labyrinth of courtyards, porticos and new courtyards. Entering from the street, the environment is MC Escher meets babushka doll.

I have become buddies with a few women my age, American and French and we sit in a cafe and study together, which helps to mitigate the intensity of this immersion program. Yesterday’s lunch was with a few of them in the artists’ colony nearby. We sat outside and ate herring on the banks of a noisily babbling brook.

The French women are lovely, tres gentille and quite fluent. They are ready to help.

Michael the Schnorer- a local panhandler - appears every other day. His line is “do you speak …English, Deutche, Francais, etc. and he then proceeds to ask for bus fare in your language. He’s persistent and will show scars and bruises to try to convince his prey. We are convinced he’s a junkie.

And then there are classmates. In addition to my teachers Ber Ber and Anna, and my friends and the lovely Martina from Venice, are several Austrians, including the young carrot top, Bertie (Adalbert), several young German women, and two lesbian women. One a self described “hairy lesbian” whose close cropped hair belies her handle. Daniel Aleph seems to have landed one of the 2 young Parisiennes. Daniel Ein (1) is quite friendly with Martina since his Swedish girlfriend left. He’s a tall super thin Jew from London, about 25 and a self-described Anarchist. We may go to Kaunus with them. He reminds us that is the birthplace of Emma Goldman. Alan is a middle aged Jew for Jesus from Berkley. Joshua is a silent Yiddish Jedi Master who in real life is a Yale Law School Student. Sharon is right. This is the Island of the Misfit Toys.

Indeed, I have the great escape.

Continuing Education

I forgot how life is without the incessant drone of the weather report. I have a pictogram on my computer, I otherwise consult my skylight. It is cold, sunny and humid here, so one can get cold or warm depending on shade, indoor/outdoor, and the ever threatening drizzle. I'm enjoying the intensity of the work, and the very interesting people. These three days have seemed very long -- my only life, and very distant from "real life." Hard to know what will result from this extended visit.

I try, mostly in vain, to find English language TV that is not dubbed over by the sole voice of TV, a loud guy who drowns out men and women with his voice over. Interesting are the American series dubbed in Russian and voiced over in Lithuanian. How mangled!

I have two teachers, one is Dov-Ber, who, thanks to Meredith I think of as Bear-Bear. He's a burly, grizzly fifty-something Russian Jew who looks like the man who is always in Jewish/Israeli tourist art. He's a little full of himself. He's written a text with a number of errors, which, ever the editor - even when I don't understand - I correct publicly. I think he feels the book was his heavy lifting and that he can coast. He spends too much time telling jokes and speaking Yiddish in an Italian accent so as to flirt with 20-something Martina from Italy. Our other teacher is Anna, an Estonian Jew, stick thin, 30-40, almost Abigail - like in her waifishness. Her intensity and didactic forward march are tremendous motivation.

School Days

Classes started on Monday. 3 hours of immersion, speaking, reading and writing. I haven’t written using the Hebrew alphabet in over 40 years. At one point I actually think I know something. Many light bulbs flash. Then I can’t even read my writing! To the French, Germans and Austrians, add Lithuanians, a Finn, a lovely young woman from Venice. One professor is from Estonia, the other from Russia.

Running Away From Home

I guess the trip to Vilnius is a major escape. Hopefully an escapade as well. I need to change that nasty mental ruckus. I need to leave the environment of the USA Network. So I am running into the past. The land my grandmother was born in over a century ago, to study a languishing language. Not quite my fantasy of an airy flat in Rome and a job singing in the local church. But, different enough from the everyday to change the conversation. I guess I'd like to change my life as well, but I think that's too difficult. We'll see.