Nothing But Teeth

As I walked into shul (synagogue, whatever) for the start of the last two days of Pesach (Passover), I found myself immediately confronted with the need to give a running report on my time in Israel. With each, "How is Israel?" I got a sense that everyone was expecting only the rosiest of pictures. "Well, you know, it has certain problems..." wasn't a response that was going to be well-received by the masses. No one wants to hear that their fantasy land is just a fantasy, but that's the reality of the Not-So-Promised Land.


I think that just being in America, with busses and planes that run on time, people who don't purposely step on you, and requests that are both coherent and practical, has made me a disgruntled expatriate. I was talking with someone in Israel who owns a restaurant that often employs young Americans who have recently moved to Israel. He said that the success rate of people staying in Israel after moving there isn't so high. I can believe it. Luckily, it isn't my experience, as I am neither an immigrant nor a secular soldier, but it is the reality. Countless teenagers move to Israel; immediately enter the army after intense, but meager classes teaching Hebrew; spend the next several years of their life living in standards that are even low for "Israeli standards"; and are then thrown into a working environment of 14-16 hour days to pay for their 1/8 of the share for a two bedroom apartment. I'm sure that people who move to America don't always find it much better, but at least the promise (or lie) of America is better. Of course, this doesn't mean I'm all for America, and dislike Israel, my previous few blogs show the reality of that. However, I am all to aware that Israel has troubles itself. The huge sign at Ben Gurion Airport saying "Welcome to Israel", would be wise to follow-up with, "Watch Your Step".

As the conversations rolled on at shul and by meals, invariably it would turn to, "Do you want to live in Israel?" or "Would you marry an Israeli?", and I would try to phrase my answer so as not to be so harsh. However, in the company of several Israelis and other people who know me well, I was more honest. "I doubt it. I like carpet, air conditioners, things set for arrival at 5:15 not arriving at 5:45 as a rule" and so on. For others, I understood that they didn't want to hear this sort of thing. So, for their sake, I was nice and sociable, but as a wise man once said, "Sociability is just a big smile, and a big smile is nothing but teeth."

Really Not That Different...

Since I've been in Israel, it hasn't really occurred to me that I'm in a different country. I can walk into almost any store or restaurant in the surrounding area of Rechavia/Shaarei Chesed/Nachlaot/City Center and speak in English, and get an English response without much hesitation. On the bustling Ben Yehudah Street, packed with seminary girls and yeshiva guys, English can be heard over Hebrew 10 to 1. I still feel like I can get in a car and drive over to my parents' house, or go to Sarah Chaya and Avraham's for dinner. There are, however, a few things that I have picked up as being "different" in the time that I have been here so far:


1. traffic: By traffic, I don't mean just vehicles. In most places, pedestrians and automobiles share street and sidewalk alike, with people walking in the middle of busy streets and mopeds and cars driving in open air plazas. The most popular place for cars to park in Jerusalem seems to be slanted on the sidewalks, and because many of the neighborhood streets are so small, people are forced to walk in the middle, with cars (usually taxis) zooming by, barely missing the people.

2. taxis: In America, taxis are generally outdated cars, or at best some mediocre make and model. In Israel, however, the vast majority of taxis are either Mercedes, Volkswagen Passats, or Peugeots.

3. check out counters: The places where you place your items is about half the length and width as in America, meaning that you can't generally put anything up until you are the person being checked out. Also, you normally have to bag your own groceries.

4. lines: I have noticed this each time I came to Israel, and it can also be found among the Israelis in America. If you see people in Israel waiting in a straight, normal line, then you can be sure that those people are not Israeli. Israelis tend to huddle by whatever it is they want to enter, bypassing any silly Westerner who has some sense of being cordial and waiting their turn. When I came back from Israel last time (during the summer), my plane landed at JFK at the same time as a British Airways flight from London. When we went through the border and got our luggage, the El Al passengers were all huddled at the customs gate, while the British Airways passengers were standing in a single file line at their gate. After several warnings, the customs attendant at the El Al gate closed his gate and left. The (seeming) need for order leaves Israelis confused.

5. living quality: In general, the interior of average Israeli homes and apartments just isn't what it is in America. Before I came to Israel for this extended stay, I voiced my reservations about living in a country that is "minimalist and quasi-section 8; a Third World country pretending to be Western." Well, I seem to be doing okay, but still, looking at unpainted walls and exposed wires, ignored cobwebs and laundry hanging over streets for all to see makes me cringe a little. Also, I miss being able to shower without pre-planning. Now, I have to press a switch and wait 30 minutes for my water to heat up so that I can take a 5 second shower.


6. expression: Unlike America, expression seems to be found all over in Jerusalem. There is hardly a wall without some form of grafiti or art. Here, people don't seem to frown at what Americans call "defacing public property". Except for private homes and upscale hotels, one can find political statements, small art exhibits, and poems sprayed on the columns and retaining walls. This is especially true in the adjoining area of Nachlaot. Nachlaot is, for lack of a better description, an Orthodox Jewish 1960's Haight-Ashbury. On my walk to the city center, I pass an organic co-op garden in Nachlaot, where men in tye-dye shirts and dreadlocks with yarmulkes sit with barefoot babies and women with elaborate, colorful scarves covering their hair (as opposed to the usual wigs), playing in the dirt with the scent of incense clearly present. This open expression seems to extend all across Jerusalem, as well as in Tel Aviv, though the flavor there is a bit different to say the least.

For now, these are the most prominent differences that I can recall. Perhaps later I will edit, or make occassional "What's Different" posts as I see the need.

What A Day

Today, for the second day this week, I woke up ill. After coughing all night, sleeping very little, and waking up achey, it was clear that I would not be going to yeshiva, at least for the first half of the day. I continued to lay in bed, sleeping on and off, as the trees beat against my window from the BRUTAL winds outside. On the other side of the apartment, Arab workers pounded away, trying to finish the giant apartment next door before the American owners come for their first, and likely only, visit during Pesach. For those that don't know, my neighborhood, as well as the adjoining neighborhood, are popular places for American and British people to buy apartments, renovate them, and then only come once or twice a year. This has caused the real estate to rise dramatically, evethough a large percentage of the homeowners are only here, at most, 18 days a year.

When I finally did wake up, I went to the kanyonit (small shopping center) at the bottom of the medical plaza across the street. With the wind staying strong, it was difficult to walk straight on the sidewalk leading to the kanyonit. Jerusalem is generally windy, and living on the side of a large hill doesn't help matters. When I finally got inside, I found that the pharmacy, as well as most other stores, had a big sign saying: Closed for election day. The only useful store open was Mr. Zol, and despite the name (meaning Mr. Cheap), the groceries and other items are often several shekels more than at other stores. Finally, with apple juice and tea, I scurried back to my apartment, dodging whatever the wind had whipped up.


Back in my apartment, I checked the computer to see what was going on with the elections. A friend in the yeshiva told me that for businesses, election day is like Shabbos: workers given the day off, no one to answer phones, rare disobedient places open. Apparently the religious world is equally as concerned with going to the voting booth. One of the Gedolei HaDor (great rabbis of the generation) here in Israel said that voting for "Gimmel" (the letter used to indicate the ultra-Orthodox party) outweighs one's obligation to sit shiva! What?!? To sit shiva is one of the most crucial periods of mourning for a lost relative, where they immediate family privately and intensely mourns for their loss. Voting is more important than that? Another rabbi, HaRav Ovadia Yosef, said that voting for his political party is the only appropriate thing to do in honor of the memory of the one who has died. As I cannot vote, this whole show hardly has anything to do with me. However, it is very interesting to see how seriously politics are viewed in Israel, that people are allowed to push off religious obligations in order to vote against the secular, Zionist parties.

In other news, it seems that going to Switzerland has turned my Swiss roommate into the new Martha Stewart. He has decided to re-do the apartment, and the refrigerator is defrosting in the hall (I always wanted a lake in my apartment), and there is spackling material scattered throughout the apartment.