#Cross-Cultural Living

Cliquez ici pour la version française sous la photo Three months into this move, summer is already behind us. Halloween is approaching, and soon my phone will be filled with pictures of ghosts, spiders, pumpkins, and all the crazy decorations. This is one of my favorite events. It's so American, and it's a shame there's only one official day to celebrate it! I'm making progress on the practical front. I now know where to find proper croissants and French bakery treats, which

Cliquez ici pour la version française sous la photo As I empty box after box, I find myself thinking that we have way too much stuff. Especially when I unwrap Tupperware lids with no containers—the containers were given away before we left—or find that fan that only works on European voltage. I wonder how on earth they made it here. I must have gotten tired supervising the movers emptying drawers and cupboards! It was actually rather nice to live in a nearly empty home these

Cliquez ici pour la version française sous les photos They say food is the way to the heart… or isn't there an expression like that? Over my many relocations, I have met plenty of expats for whom cooking was the ultimate link to their home country. They recreate family recipes, sharing their roots through food. I am not one of them. For me, food is mostly fuel, and every time I start a new life in a new country and a new kitchen, I have a hard time remembering what to cook be

A selfie among Michelangelo’s angels. 🇫🇷 La version française suit la version anglaise. I took this photo at an immersive art exhibit. How often do I get to find myself surrounded by angels? Michelangelo’s, on top of that! So I took a selfie. Somehow, it felt fitting for this post about being new and immersed among New Yorkers. A few weeks ago, as I was entering a busy store in Manhattan, I held the door open for someone. Two other people quickly pushed their way through as

A distant, slightly blurry zoom shot of the Statue of Liberty against the horizon, capturing a humorous and imperfect view from the new neighborhood. Une vue lointaine et légèrement floue de la Statue de la Liberté à l'horizon, capturant un aperçu humoristique et imparfait depuis le nouveau quartier.

Cliquez ici pour la version française sous les photos A few nights ago, a sudden, sharp explosion jolted me—and, I suspect, everyone else—awake. When the relative Manhattan silence returned, I drifted back to sleep. Somewhere between asleep and awake, my brain slipped into a kind of lucid dream and answered a question I had been asking myself for days: What would my first post from the United States be about? The answer was surprisingly simple. I am in the United States, and

From childhood pen pals to cross-cultural marriage, a deeply personal reflection on travel, living abroad, and the emotional difference between finding a place to stay and truly belonging. The seeds of “elsewhere” were planted by my father—or perhaps by the fairies above my crib. ^_^ He spent his life in the navy and came home every few months with stories from far-off ports with magical names...

Every so often, life brings us someone who changes the direction of our lives. For me, in 1991, it was someone I had never imagined needing ever: a well-known, beloved North Tel Aviv rabbi. Though he has since passed away (z”l — may his memory be a blessing), I remember him with deep affection. I landed in Tel Aviv in November 1990, completely clueless about Judaism or the local attitude toward non-Jews. My husband, a very secular Israeli, was certain we would be fine as we w