What do you mean, you don't want the Shoko?

Culture clash.

Here are some examples of why Americans (or people from ANY other country) are constantly amazed at the Israeli culture:

1. Turning down a mivtza (bargain or sale) - Israelis, bless their little hearts, cannot for the life of them understand why you would turn down a mivtza.  To wit, yesterday's conversation at the supermarket checkout:       

• Cashier: We have this HUGE bottle of shoko [Israeli chocolate drink, which may or may not have some natural ingredients in it, but I doubt it] on sale!
• Us:  We don't want it.
• Cashier (with a look of utter bewilderment on her face): What?  But it's a mivtza!  Look how much you save!
• Us: We don't DRINK it, though.  [This is when we start good naturedly laughing, assuming she will laugh along.  She does not.  Quite the contrary, she is supremely insulted that we have turned down her mivtza]
• Cashier:  So what?  You should buy it.
• Us:  But we don't want it.
• Cashier shakes her head and continues completing our checkout.
• Us [on the way out] - they must get a kickback for selling that stuff at the register.

2. Driving

Israelis drive on whatever the heck side of the road they want to.  It does not matter that it is YOUR side of the road.  Defensive driving has taken on a whole new meaning here for us - it means assuming every single driver on the road is going to try to pass you or do something incredibly dangerous.

3. Customer Service

Hahahahaha!  Sorry, I couldn't help myself there.  Basically, as the customer it's not that you have no rights or deserve anything - you are on your own, buddy.  You do get used to it, and Israelis are not bad or mean people, they are just very tough.  

I heard on the radio the other day (in Hebrew, folks, so I may have understood the story completely wrong), the announcer told a story that he called the city government office to find out how much he owed in property tax.  The woman who answered responded to his question with this one:  "What do you think I am, a computer?  I have no idea what you owe!"

4. Fashion

I can't quite place the fashion sense of Israeli women.  It's somewhere between tacky and OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IS SHE WEARING?  Forget that about 99% of Israeli women dye their hair some unnatural color of red/maroon, and the makeup is applied, it seems, with a magic marker (permanent), but what bothers me is that in fact so many of these women are actually quite beautiful without a drop of makeup (my theory about most makeup/women, but that's a discussion for another time). The heavy makeup they wear, well, let's say it doesn't help them.    

Maybe it's that they just don't care, they want to wear what they love and what they think is beautiful and fashionable, and I assume they think they look great.  Maybe in the end that's how we should all feel.

5. Business culture

I'm new to this, but it seems to me that Israelis in the business world assume you are trying to pull one over on them, and that if they agree to something, they are being taken for a ride.  I'm still trying to figure this one out, but there is a general sense of suspicion and not wanting to be a "fryer."

A "fryer" is defined as someone who you have taken advantage of.  A sucker, sort of.  The phrase "I'm not a fryer" tells the person you are talking to that you are not going to let them pull the wool over your eyes.  There is even a website for Anglos who want to avoid being fryered - www.nofryers.com - check it out, I'm not making this up.

6. Living in a country surrounded by its dire enemies

So, of course this is a more serious one, and in a way it explains some of the above.  But after having grown up in the US, which sort of has a "king of the world" mentality about it, here you are part of a thousands-year-old struggle which you feel every day.  It's what makes Israelis so tense, yadda yadda yadda.  But of course it affects every day life. 

Every Israeli you see has probably lost someone in their family in combat or an act of terrorism.  It's not like the US where only some people have relatives in the military.  Here it's every single family.  So these are the things you have to get used to:

• Seeing guns wherever you go
• Checkpoints
• People in military uniforms everywhere
• High school kids discussing which branch of the military they'd like to be in
• High school parents realizing their 17 or 18 year old is about to start risking his or her life
• Having your bag and car inspected before you go into a mall, store, movie, theater

7.  Living in a country that is not someone else's

I know, I've said this before.  But having been born and raised in America, it really is weird to be in your own country, where everything that happens is somehow related to your Judaism.  Even the fights in the Knesset, the current battle over army service for hareidim - when you look at the big, big picture, it's kind of cool that it is all about the Jewish people. 

That's it for now - I'm awaiting my American-born "shiputznik" (handyman) to come do some work in the apartment.  I use him because his business card promised (I am not making this up) "clean, American style service."  

5 Months! - Some Thoughts

I know I talk / write a lot about Ulpan, but for an olah chadasha that is pretty much the center of your life for the first few months (5 months to be exact - as of yesterday). 

Your Ulpan friends become your family - you grow very close because you end up talking about your family history, your feelings, and your personal story during the conversations you have in class.  You become a very tight group and grow to really love and care for each other.  We are all going through the same issues - learning the language, navigating the bureaucracy, finding work, creating a brand new life - so we lean on each other for support. 

When one of our class found an apartment in Tel Aviv that he'd been looking for since the beginning, we almost felt like giving him a party.  The sad part for us (and him, I think) was that he left us for an Ulpan class in TA.

So today we talked aobut war. Today is June 5, the first day of the Six Day War, and June 6 was the first day of first Lebanon War in 1982.

Our teacher, a wonderful and sweet woman, very religious, who was born in Nahariya, told us that she remembers that there were no defense shelters in 1967, and that her father dug trenches for the family behind their house, where they hid when there was a siren.  I thought of myself as a 13 year old at the time, I remember my father crying and telling us how he wanted us to move to Israel (he had also told us that if Kennedy didn't win the election in 1960, we were going the next day!)

Our teacher then told us about the 1982 war in which her brother fought.  He was badly burned and when she went with her mother to see him for the first time in the hospital, her mother kept asking "Where is my son??" becasue she did not recognize him with all of his burns.  As she told this, she began crying.  We all became very quiet and sad.  She then spoke more about the wars, and was clearly extremely emotional and tearful.

We then got into a discussion about the wars, the territorial fights, peace, etc. 

At the end of the discussion, as she often does when we "argue" these types of points, she stated, "Hashem yaazor" [God will help.]

Now sometimes when people say that I feel a little angry - I mean (in my mind) God wants us to help ourselves and show Him how brave we are, how committed we are.  But this is coming from someone who has suffered through many wars and lost family in them.  She and all her family, and all of the families here who have been through these wars, have indeed shown God how brave they are.  And, in the end, they know that we look to Hashem for the ultimate help. 

All I could think of was, "THIS is living in Israel. The incredible mixture, each and every day, of the spiritual with the reality of everyday life. I am so incredibly lucky to have been able to move here.  What a bracha.  I wish more people would come and experience this."

I'm not one for telling people what to do - you do your thing, I'll do mine.  But I will say that I compare living here to many other mitzvos - with the approach of na'aseh v'nishma - you DO it, then you understand.

I'm just beginning to understand.

Standoff at the Ulpan Corral

Well, it had to happen. 

You see, it seems in many Ulpan classes there are those who just want to learn as much useable Hebrew as they can and those who want to become Hebrew linguists and know every possible conjugation of every possible verb, why it is used, when, and what the exceptions are.

Me - useable Hebrew.

In the past week or so the teaches have begun talking about the test at the end of Ulpan, near the end of July.  They gave us a link to the past tests and suggested we practice with them.  We even distributed one test to the class and we had to take it at home and then come in to see how we did.  Let's not discuss how we did, ok? 

So slowly, as the test nears, the teachers seem focused on us doing well on the test.  I am sure it reflects well on them and the entire Israeli government if we perform well.  It means their Knesset decision to keep funding Ulpan is worthwhile, blah blah blah.

Some of us have gotten a little frustrated with the focus on the test.  Now, to be fair, if you are going to apply for a job which requires that you have taken Ulpan, you do need an Ulpan certificate.

None of us in the class is in that situation.  Not that we'd mind taking the test, mind you, but all in the name of a good laugh.  Like, "Did you see question 10?  I didn't understand the directions, let alone the sentences."  or "If you thought you felt stupid before, wait until you take the test."  That kind of good natured ribbing which makes everyone feel so accomplished.

However, there are those in the class who feel differently - they are very serious about learning the exact grammar rules and knowing when they apply, etc.  They want to know every single instance where there is an exception to the rule.  They want to know ALL the rules.

And then there are the rest of us, whose thoughts are more like this during the 4 hours of Ulpan:

• "I wonder what I should eat during the break?"
• "I think my nails are too long."
• "He needs to iron his shirts."
• "What is that climbing on the wall?"
• "Sheesh, it's hot in here, why doesn't someone turn on the a/c?"
• "Oh, is the teacher talking to me?  I'd better pay attention."
• "NO!! NOT NIFAL!  ANYTHING BUT NIFAL! "
• "Hah, he didn't do his homework last night. I did."
• "I got every answer wrong on last night's homework."

You know, things like that. Mind you, we do take Ulpan seriously, but in the end most of us realize that after this basic instruction, only time will really improve our Hebrew.  Forcing words into our brain cells which are already crammed with trying to convert miles to grams or fahrenheit to meters is just not going to work..

So today we had a "discussion" about how to move forward.  To the credit of the Ulpan teachers, they are more than happy to teach us in any way we feel wlll be most useful - they are terrific.  It's the students that become the problems.

The decision was to move forward with a conscious mix of test-prep and regular stuff, like how to negotiate the grocery store and doctor's office. useful stuff.

I mean, to give an example, today we learned the words for things relating to color - like if the grass gets green in the winter and yellow in the summer.  It's a fancy shmancy way of saying "the grass was green in the winter and now it is summer and it is yellow" which is the way I would say it, and will say it forevermore.

Like I've said before, I've given up on the idea of sounding like an intelligent person for many years to come.

Test or not test, I plan to (sing it with me, everyone) sound like an idiot for years to come.

Hebrew, Hose

Today's dialogues:

Window screen man discussion #1:

• "Keep that window open for 2 hours until the cement dries."
•  "OK, 200 hours?"
•  [blank stare]
•  "Oh, oh, I mean 2 hours?"
•  "That's what I said."

  Window screen man discussion #2:

• "I will come back to check the cement."
• " I have to go out at three ['three' was said incorrectly]"
• "You have to go out at three ['three' was said correctly]"

Window screen man discussion #3:

• "Here is your money"
• "Don't you want your change"
• "What change?"
• "You paid me 200 shekel too much."
• "oh."

Went back to the home supply store yesterday to review the garden hose situation.  We found a simple garden hose with its attachy-thingies attached already, and I asked the nice man if this was appropriate for a mirpeset.  THAT I asked correctly, I think.

He said it was just fine.

Brought it home.  Screwed in nicely to the outdoor faucet.  Turned the water on.  Water comes out, let's say, much less enthusiastically than one would want.  It kind of comes out as big drops. 

Don't know if I have the energy to return this one and start again.  I may just deal with it.

Yesterday we drove to the big Jerusalem Mall - our Waze lady was a big help and we didn't get lost.  She said she knows the way to Efrat, but I'm not sure we can trust her.  I mean I don't really know her that well.  But Waze is very cool - they warned us of a "speed trap" even though it was actually the checkpoint on 443.  But I mean how would they know that? 

This is What it Feels Like...

You know how it is in the US as one of the major (non-Jewish) holidays approaches? You know how ALL you hear on the radio is the music, the talk of the sales, the ideas for cooking, etc.? You know how everyone at work is talking about nothing else?

You know how that used to make me feel?

Like an outsider. 

I used to think to myself, OK this is their country, it is basically about their religion, and we are here and we have a nice life, but we are not in our own country.  I'm happy for them that they are so excited. We have to live with the entire country revolving around those holidays.

And our holidays?

Well, we prepare we talk amongs ourselves, the radio and TV stations barely give it more than a passing mention, and we go to work where no one else is talking or thinking about our upcoming holiday and on erev yom tov we rush home and try to get ourselves mentally into it.

This, however, is what it feels like to approach a yom tov in Israel:

• The radio announcers mention how many days it is until Shavuot
• The DJs on the rock station have a morning debate about which blintz is best, and mention that everyone should remember that it is "z'man matan Torateinu" (yes, this is a real rock station)
• The supermarket has fixings for blintzes and cheese cake as soon as you walk in, and Shavuot specials on every aisle ("Bargain!  For Shavuot!" signs are everywhere)
• Flower stalls pop up all along roadsides, and most of the flowers are white, with stalks of wheat in them
• You go to the mall on Erev Shabbos and they have a harpist and a flutist playing special music to welcome the chag
• EVERYONE in the mall is buying flowers, cheesecakes, etc. at the little stands that go up every Friday right in the middle of the mall

In short, the preparation for a chag is country wide - by the time you get to the chag, you and everyone around you has been talking about it for days / weeks, and everyone is into it. 

You know how that makes me feel?

Like (I know, I know, I've said this before, stop rolling your eyes) I'm home, for the first time ever. 

I never understood what people meant by this.  It is not something one can easily describe, sort of a feeling of rightness like you've never felt before, and a feeling of such pride and love that sometimes the littlest thing can bring tears to your eyes.

Today I saw a chayal, his rifle slung over his shoulder, walking in the mall with an elderly woman holding onto his arm.  They were speaking softly to one another, smiling and laughing, and she looked so proud of him.  They had packages of flowers and cakes. 

That is Israel, where everyone you see is family, and everyone is home.

What's It All For?

This blog isn't about aliyah.  The nice thing about blogging is that you can to pick a topic and blah blah blah all you want.  So today I'll blah blah blah about the "asifa" that was held on Sunday in New York.

In case you haven't heard, this gathering was held to warn everyone of the dangers of the Internet.  I downloaded the "kinus" that went with it and looked through it.

I'm not going to bash anyone here, so if that is what you were hoping for, move on. 

I am just terribly curious.

I am not a very well educated person, Jewishly.  I went to public school, to Hebrew School, and to the Baltimore Hebrew College. the latter providing me with outstanding command of Hebrew, familiarity with Hebrew literature, with traditional texts, and with philosophy.  But I didn't have what one would consider a traditional Jewish education.

So when I approach things it is not with a great deal of background, texts, explanations, etc.  It's usually just with very simple thoughts and questions.

So here goes.

I was always incredibly moved by Parshas Kedoshim when (I think I'm right), we are told that we are a holy nation.  I embrace the idea of holiness, and in my thinking the mitzvos were given to us to make us different and holy.  The incredible genius (a poor word and please forgive me) of Torah is that it lays out how we are to live our lives in the world, with others, in order to comport ourselves as Hashem wants us to - 24/7.  All of the warts of humankind are illustrated in one way or another by the mitzvos - the 'dos' and the 'don'ts' - because we are human, we err, but Hashem wants us to conquer our impulses and go forth to show the world how tough and brave an eved Hashem really is.

With me so far?  Anyone disagree?  I sure hope not or I reallly do have to go back to Hebrew School.

Now the Torah is timeless - Hashem gave it to us knowing full well what temptations were coming our way, and gave us mitzvos to help us to stay straight and show the world how to act.

Now, if we do conquer our bad inclinations, it makes us tough.  Incredibly tough.  I mean, look at us - despite the world the way it is we still keep Shabbos, dress modestly, daven, learn, etc.  That takes a kind of toughness that we probably don't realize we have. 

We live in the real world and see real things, and have to deal with them and we CAN because the mitzvos make us tough.  We were given the mitzvos to show the rest of the world what it means to follow Hashem's Torah. 

We can't do that if we don't live in the world.

So here's my question - why are people not able to overcome the obstacle of the internet?  Believe me, I'm not bashing anyone, chas v'shalom, I'm just confounded by this state of affairs.

If people are looking at pornography on the internet and it is ruining their families and marriages, then why does no one look any further than the computer screen? 

How about looking at the family dynamics and perhaps the yeshiva educations that exist today and ask why they are so fragile that a computer site can dissolve them?

• Are couples not open enough with each other? 
• Do yeshiva boys and girls have too much pressure on them to be perfect, modest angels and not allowed to express themselves outside of the classroom or yeshiva? 
• Do men and women feel so stressed and unhappy that they seek satisfaction outside of their marriages? 
• Are young couples not given enough guidance about how to have a relationship so that they know how to deal with problems?
• Is everyone so anxious to find some escape from their lives that they go to the nearst available website and imagine a different life? Why?
• What is their life so desperately missing that they feel the need to escape?

Aren't those, perhaps, the real problems?

In every generation there are incredible challenges to the Torah Jew - but we have to live in the world, otherwise we are just being mekadesh shem shamayim to each other and that is not how it's supposed to be - at least I don't think so. 

If we think this is bad, I'm pretty sure the temptations will get even more difficult as the years go by.  Shutting ourselves off from the world and what it has to offer does not make sense to me.

Two Sides, One Israel

Somehow Yom Yerushalayim doesn't get the status of Yom Haatzmaut.  Schools are not closed, life goes on as usual, no big banners across the roads, no flags. 

But in Ulpan today our teacher handed out a brief history of Jerusalem, which we read together, and then handed out the words of "Yerushalayim shel Zahav' which we translated together, and then sang.  She then played the live broadcast of the soldiers going in to the old city during the Six Day War and singing at the Kotel.  I don't think I'm exaggerating to tell you that there was not a dry eye in the room.

Every year on Yom Yerushalyim I make it a point to listen to the broadcast.  When the soldiers say that the Old City is "in our hands" I'm overwhelmed each time.  This year of course it has more meaning. I was impressed by our teacher's passion and emotion when talking about Jerusalem - I always love hearing Israelis talk about this country - it's such a deep, abiding love of the land and everything in it.  It's at the same time touching and inspiring.

And then......

We went shopping.  And another side of Israeli life hit us.

Walked into a hardware store.  Looking for a garden hose.  As you may recall my last attempt at garden hose maintenance has not altogether been successful.  Once I attach the nozzle to the hose and get it to stay on the spigot outside on the mirpeset, it usualy falls off the spigot when the water is turned on.  Then, and I am not proud of this, I cannot for the life of me re-wind the hose back onto the windy-uppy-thingy.  Tried 3 times, can't figure it out.

So what does a good ex-American do?  I figure, "I'll buy another one."  So off to the hardware store we go, this time a different store, figuring maybe they have better hoses.  We also needed some kind of adhesive to re-post our house alarm sign (this house is protected by ....blah blah blah) which had fallen off during a recent windstorm.  And it has to adhere to the stone facade of the apartment.  And, um, crazy glue does not work.  Trust me.

So, ok, we walk into the hardware store.  The man behind the counter glares at us.  Uh oh, what did we do?  I think we interrupted his staring into space or something.  We ask, in broken (I think more like shattered into a million teeny tiny bits) Hebrew for some kind of glue for the sign.  He brings out a huge container of caulk.  Hmmmm.  So we ask and what do we apply this with?

He brings out a huge caulking gun.  The kind they must use to put highway bridges together.  We look at each other.  He is still not smiling.  We decline the offer, then ask if he has a garden hose.  Except we don't know the word for garden hose.  So I do a pantomime of spraying the grass with water, which probably looks like I'm shooting bullets at the other customers.  He does not look amused and is not trying in any way to help us.  We, of course, are laughing at my ineptness in explaining what we want.  Then we see a hose sitting right there!  Exactly what we want!  We point to it and say, "Ka Zeh!" [like this!']. 

He looks at us.  He looks at the hose.

And he says, "Ayn." [There aren't any]. 

"Ayn?" I ask, with my hand on the hose.

"Ayn."  he says, shaking his head.

Then I get fed up.  "Ooooookkkkaaaaaaayyyy," I say, "we are outta here."

And we walk out trying not to giggle.

Now maybe he was having a hard day.  Or maybe he is the boss and had decided he didn't want to make any sales that day for what I'm sure must be a very good reason.  Or maybe for him that WAS customer service.

Either way, his loss we are not going back there ever again. 

All in a day's work for us Isarelis.  And you know what?  I love living here.  Because no matter what, when all is said and done, he and I are always going to be on the same side.  And that's all that matters.