Why OyVeyIzmir?

Oy vey (Yiddish) אױ װײ), oy vay, or just oy — or even more elaborately oy vey iz mir, oh weh! — is an exclamation of dismay or exasperation meaning something like "oh, pain" or "woe is me." -- Wikipedia

Oy Vey=Yiddish=Jewish=Israel

Iz mir=Izmir=A city in Turkey (located in the Anatolia province of Turkey (formally known as Smyrna), on the coast of the Gulf of Izmir, it is the second (or third, depending on the source), most populous city in Turkey, after Istanbul.

My trip to Turkey and Israel began as a way to mend a broken heart. A best friend had recently died, and in my time of mourning, some weeks later a relationship of nearly two years ended so abruptly, I still find myself replaying the details, wondering what and where it all went wrong. 

Suddenly single, cynical and disillusioned I needed to regroup, repair and restore. Although I've often thought of myself as "the luckiest girl in the world," I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and often just a mere word or thought away from tears. 

Among my ways of distraction was to do what I've always done, but in double time -- keep myself as busy as possible. This meant working harder than ever, playing more and going away.

I've been a lot of places around the world, often multiple times. But I'd never been to Turkey and I had been to Israel so long ago (nearly 35-years ago -- for six-weeks one summer as a high school senior), that I hardly remembered it. 

Turkey was definitely on my bucket list. My paternal grandparents, Sephardic Jews, lived in Istanbul before moving to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in the early 1920s. 

If I searched really hard I could find where my paternal great-grandmother, Lea Franco Rabishovsky (or RABISCHOFFSKY) was buried. Born in Bulgaria, Lea died of typhus soon after giving birth to her youngest daughter, Rosa, my father's aunt, just following the Ottoman Empire's defeat in World War I and just before the start of Turkey's War for Independence. Rosa, now in her later 90s, is the only living link to this Turkish heritage. 

My maternal grandfather spent his last few years in Tel Aviv after living in Brazil for nearly 40 years (he and my grandmother were from Poland). It was his dream to be there, though he died at the young age of 68. He is buried in Holon Cemetery, near Tel Aviv. 

So, there are people to see, but as important, things to do, and eat, which is always important. 

And away I go.