The Jewish New Year has approached and I find myself living on the edge. I say this: 1. because our landlord thinks we're vacating at the end of the month (14 days) 2. because I have yet to find a new apartment 3. because in 5 months I will have to notify my school district in America of my intentions to return and 4. due to the status of my professional credentials and low salaries for psychologists in the public sector, life in Israel is anything but stable.
Before moving to Israel, I decided to leave a life of "stability." By the age of 30 I was a certified school psychologist and homeowner. I had left one school district after achieving tenure and moved to my local school district where the salary and commute were more favorable. I had a retirement fund, pension, and life insurance policy. And so it went for the next five years. Each year, without any of my own effort, my salary increased. My health insurance policy was superb allowing me monthly visits to the chiropractor and massage therapist. Stability+predictability+security at the time meant stagnation, monotony and boredom to me. Yet I had achieved the "American Dream" didn't I? So why was I so restless to abandon the lifestyle I had worked so hard to build?
After recently deciding to take the plunge and go through the Israeli immigration process, I am now part of a universal health coverage system that I still don't totally understand. I have something called a Karen Hishtalmut, (some type of retirement investment plan that I still don't fully comprehend), am part of the pension system (I think), and have some sort of insurance plan called Harel. For all I know my life here may be stable after all, considering I'll never go broke/go into debt because of college tuition or medical bills. I don't think the Ministry of Education will fire me because of budget cuts. In the meantime, I wake up each day acutely aware of the uncertainty of my life. When looking at Maslow's hierarchy of needs, I find myself working to regain my security of resources for the first time in many years. But really? Not knowing where I'll be sleeping in just 14 short days is a little out of my comfort zone.
I supposed we aren't always aware of it but there is always a level of
uncertainty that creeps around the corner of life. Even when we think
we can calculate the risk our relationships, health, marriages, jobs,
and finances carry- a powerful force (the universe, g-d, mother earth
etc.) can decide to change the direction at any moment. So just 1 year after abandoning life in America, here I am living in Israel
contemplating whether I can afford to live in a 30 square meter
1-bedroom apartment by myself in the center of the country.
I often remind myself that I made the conscious decision to sacrifice monthly manicures/pedicures, massages, shopping for material items in order to have this middle eastern adventure. I'm totally ok with that. Though I still hate it, I've accepted street cats and cockroaches in place of squirrels and bunnies. I traded in my Toyota Matrix for a monthly bus pass. This makes perfect sense because of outrageous gas prices and limited parking. I squeegee up the floor after I shower instead of pull the plug in the bathtub. I take a number, wait to be called, and pay money to argue in Hebrew with bank tellers convincing them to perform easy transactions. Goodbye drive through free banking; there are no promotional freebies, coffee, and donuts welcoming me at Bank Hapoalim. Instead, there are pages of foreign jargon to sign over and over wasting trees and printer ink. So long Trader Joes. I will no longer be driving my car into your parking lot and loading up on groceries and loading out at my front door. Instead, I walk downstairs to the neighborhood fruit stands and grocery stores and fill my eco-friendly bags up with fresh, local produce. When feeling ambitious, I take the bus to the open market with my baggies or rent a car to drive to a neighboring town for American style purchasing. I have to admit; however, that I am a bit surprised how close to the edge I am actually living and I'm not quite sure about how I like this cocktail of anxiety, excitement, acceptance, and curiosity.
My entire surroundings have changed and will continue to change as I enter this New Year. Today marks the Jewish New Year and I smile and laugh at the irony. It's true, I have no idea where I'll physically be living in 14 days. I intentionally cut myself free of the years rooted in stability and ask myself how it feels living on the edge. It's scary and exciting to see what g-d has in store for this New Year.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Indentity Crisis
From 6,000 miles away I thought stepping back into the American life I put on "pause" would feel strange and foreign; like trying on a pair of jeans that no longer fit. But after a week of: speaking English, American customer service, reunions with all the amazing people I'm blessed to call friends, driving my car, the US dollar, bathing in a bathtub, 110 voltage etc. I am appreciating the realization of how comfortable life was for me in Chicago. It's surprising how in the 11 months I've been living in Israel, I honestly managed to forget how much can be accomplished in an American day. That's probably why we are able to finish university, get our first jobs, buy homes and build families at such an early age.
There is a reason why people call this the "Land of Opportunity." For someone with intelligence, determination, and education there are no limits to what can be achieved here. Though now I see that there is a price that is paid. It is an "easy come-easy go" model seen the minute the economy crashed and people were jobless and upside down on their homes.
America's corporate consumerist beast lures us in and encourages us to exercise our purchasing power until we wake up one day and find that we are working like hamsters just to maintain large lifestyles. And because this standard of achievement is what we are born and bred for, we work relentlessly to acquire our large homes filled with our large furniture and appliances. We, of course, need to drive our large cars and take large vacations and fill our large bellies and pay our large medical expenses and college tuition bills. Our autonomous and independent existences provide us wings to fly through the red, white & blue American skies while across the ocean in Israel people are serving their country, competing for selective positions in the universities and job market, and living with parents and roommates in order to cover the expenses of a modest lifestyle.
So back to the million dollar question I ask myself and the many other Westerners who chose to go through the optional Israeli immigration process: "why?" Why leave a healthy salary, home and car ownership, artificially deflated gas prices and the purchasing power of the US dollar? Why choose to ride the bus, share an apartment, make minimum wage, struggle to communicate, argue for reasonable treatment and conditions? It all sounds quite masochistic, indeed.
I guess I will spend the next year developing my final answer. For now....I'd have to say it is because there is something meaningful about living in the land of my ancestors where national holidays overlap with the history of the Jewish people. There is something I'll call "exotic" about learning to speak an ancient language. Somehow the changes I've made have simplified my lifestyle so that it is smaller and more manageable. This feeling is liberating. Detaching from my materialism has increased my appreciation for the smaller things in life. I can now find happiness in smaller things. It is a challenge and a growing experience to move away from living on auto-pilot and learning to survive in a foreign culture. While living in Israel is similar to living with one large dysfunctional family, it feels like people are all in the same boat and will take the time to listen, care, and help out *
* disclaimer that statement only applies on a social level not when it comes to business, landlords, bureaucracy etc.
There is a reason why people call this the "Land of Opportunity." For someone with intelligence, determination, and education there are no limits to what can be achieved here. Though now I see that there is a price that is paid. It is an "easy come-easy go" model seen the minute the economy crashed and people were jobless and upside down on their homes.
America's corporate consumerist beast lures us in and encourages us to exercise our purchasing power until we wake up one day and find that we are working like hamsters just to maintain large lifestyles. And because this standard of achievement is what we are born and bred for, we work relentlessly to acquire our large homes filled with our large furniture and appliances. We, of course, need to drive our large cars and take large vacations and fill our large bellies and pay our large medical expenses and college tuition bills. Our autonomous and independent existences provide us wings to fly through the red, white & blue American skies while across the ocean in Israel people are serving their country, competing for selective positions in the universities and job market, and living with parents and roommates in order to cover the expenses of a modest lifestyle.
So back to the million dollar question I ask myself and the many other Westerners who chose to go through the optional Israeli immigration process: "why?" Why leave a healthy salary, home and car ownership, artificially deflated gas prices and the purchasing power of the US dollar? Why choose to ride the bus, share an apartment, make minimum wage, struggle to communicate, argue for reasonable treatment and conditions? It all sounds quite masochistic, indeed.
I guess I will spend the next year developing my final answer. For now....I'd have to say it is because there is something meaningful about living in the land of my ancestors where national holidays overlap with the history of the Jewish people. There is something I'll call "exotic" about learning to speak an ancient language. Somehow the changes I've made have simplified my lifestyle so that it is smaller and more manageable. This feeling is liberating. Detaching from my materialism has increased my appreciation for the smaller things in life. I can now find happiness in smaller things. It is a challenge and a growing experience to move away from living on auto-pilot and learning to survive in a foreign culture. While living in Israel is similar to living with one large dysfunctional family, it feels like people are all in the same boat and will take the time to listen, care, and help out *
* disclaimer that statement only applies on a social level not when it comes to business, landlords, bureaucracy etc.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Being Buddha
Three of the six Sharkans are in Israel for the first time in twelve
years preparing for my sister's wedding. Friends and relatives will
soon be here to help celebrate their union and work obligations seem
secondary to all of the month's festivities. My loyal puppy will be going under
for a biopsy of her ears tomorrow and the six-month old leak that was
repaired by two different repairmen after hours of arguing decided to sprout it's
ugly head again. I have my immigration meeting scheduled and am petitioning to the state of Israel for professional recognition. And to top things off, I forced myself to walk away from a potentially amazing opportunity which brought me great sadness.
It's times like these when I miss my weekly silent meditations. I still practice Yoga which provides a quick fix, but doesn't quite offer the lasting effects of a 45-minute neurological re-balancing. I'm just a baby Buddha striving to practice principals of acceptance, non-judgement, and compassion but without my weekly practice I'm like a carpenter without a hammer. Where are my tools when I need them? "Be present" "let go of attachments" "take the middle road" "return to the breath" "observe without reaction." External forces such as: societal norms, scheduling obligations, expectations and moods of others interfere with my ability to hear my baby Buddha's voice. I loose my compass. As if the external forces aren't enough, being Buddha means checking the internal Ego and primal desires that have a mind of their own. What's a girl to do?
Oh right, breathe and strap on my tool belt.
It's times like these when I miss my weekly silent meditations. I still practice Yoga which provides a quick fix, but doesn't quite offer the lasting effects of a 45-minute neurological re-balancing. I'm just a baby Buddha striving to practice principals of acceptance, non-judgement, and compassion but without my weekly practice I'm like a carpenter without a hammer. Where are my tools when I need them? "Be present" "let go of attachments" "take the middle road" "return to the breath" "observe without reaction." External forces such as: societal norms, scheduling obligations, expectations and moods of others interfere with my ability to hear my baby Buddha's voice. I loose my compass. As if the external forces aren't enough, being Buddha means checking the internal Ego and primal desires that have a mind of their own. What's a girl to do?
Oh right, breathe and strap on my tool belt.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Home is where the heart is
Standing at the horizon of month 9, I'm afraid to say that life in the Holyland is starting to feel more like home. Is it true that "home is where the heart is?" Since childhood I've never been one to get homesick; I loved having sleepovers and sleep away camp. I embrace adventure. And though I miss the ease, conveniences, and people back in America I am not homesick. In fact, I am a bit worried about going back in August and being confused about where home is. My house, job, car, family, friends all exist for me back in Chicago. Is that home? Is Israel? I'm not sure. I'm definitely still considered somewhat of an outsider here but I'm also not living my Chicago routine anymore.
Luckily I've been blessed to have a handful of great friends by my side to ease the culture shock of immigrating to a new country. Soon enough I will hold Israeli citizenship and join the many ex-pats who likely asked themselves similar questions of Identity. Truthfully, becoming Israeli scared me a lot more until I watched friends go through the process and realized that as a Jew, it is a fortunate opportunity. I am not the sort of Zionist that believes all Jews should return to live in this country because surviving here can require finding internal resources that is just not for everyone. As I recently explained to a newly immigrated and crying 15- year old British student and her mother: "Sometimes Israel kicks your ass. Once a week I wear my Wonder Woman t-shirt to remind me that I can take the beating. I can prevail. I chose to be here and I will stay until I decide it's time to leave." That earned me a chuckle.
Each of us has our immigration story. Depending on a myriad of factors such as: financial standing, language skills, social network, and employment there is a huge range of assimilation success. And in the process of assimilating some can get swept away by the emotional turbulence that accompanies us all. It's hard and most will admit that, I think. At the end of the day, I think it will all be worth it if I can look back and say "I learned the language. I like my job. I have good friends/family. Mentally and physically I feel healthy and strong. I have all that I need." Wherever I am geographically when I reach this point, I think I 'll be home. I guess the cliche is true. Home IS where the heart is.
Luckily I've been blessed to have a handful of great friends by my side to ease the culture shock of immigrating to a new country. Soon enough I will hold Israeli citizenship and join the many ex-pats who likely asked themselves similar questions of Identity. Truthfully, becoming Israeli scared me a lot more until I watched friends go through the process and realized that as a Jew, it is a fortunate opportunity. I am not the sort of Zionist that believes all Jews should return to live in this country because surviving here can require finding internal resources that is just not for everyone. As I recently explained to a newly immigrated and crying 15- year old British student and her mother: "Sometimes Israel kicks your ass. Once a week I wear my Wonder Woman t-shirt to remind me that I can take the beating. I can prevail. I chose to be here and I will stay until I decide it's time to leave." That earned me a chuckle.
Each of us has our immigration story. Depending on a myriad of factors such as: financial standing, language skills, social network, and employment there is a huge range of assimilation success. And in the process of assimilating some can get swept away by the emotional turbulence that accompanies us all. It's hard and most will admit that, I think. At the end of the day, I think it will all be worth it if I can look back and say "I learned the language. I like my job. I have good friends/family. Mentally and physically I feel healthy and strong. I have all that I need." Wherever I am geographically when I reach this point, I think I 'll be home. I guess the cliche is true. Home IS where the heart is.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Israel ranks 14th on Happiness Report
Disclaimer: What can I say? I happen to seriously be blessed with smart, interesting, creative, cultured, and talented friends both here and in Chicago (y'all know who you are) so its possible that the following ramblings are colored in some way by this fact.
Happiness. One of the most important emotional states. Some strive to achieve this through pursuing specific career paths, acquiring large bank accounts, procreating, socializing, giving and receiving love, feeding their sensory systems with food, sex, drugs, music, art, dancing etc.
In America, where most would agree anything is possible, things were fine for me. Status quo. While I do agree that America is the "land of opportunity" I'm not sure I would agree that the streets are "paved in gold." Life is unquestionably much easier for me in the US than it is for me in Israel and yet I am signing up for another year and citizenship in this country. So I have to ask myself "why is that?" Does it have something to do with my pursuit of Happiness? I publicly complain a lot about the inconveniences I encounter living here, so what exactly do I see contributing to Happiness in Israel?
First of all, the value system here in Israel seems like it is based more on close family ties. By "close" I mean in proximity since the country is small and children stay in their parents' modest-sized home until later in life. I also happen to see many grandparents caring for their young grandchildren and continuing to spoil them well into their young adulthood. Because of financial stress, there also seems to be an multi- generational reliance on family members to help provide necessities. For example, on our apartment lease, the first information requested is "parents' address and phone number." Later, I was explained that often it is the parents who co-sign on apartment leases. Due to its shear size and the options for University and jobs in America, children begin to leave the nest much earlier. Once settled with their own families, they may only return on an annual basis.
Then there is the sense of pride and ideology here. Many people chose to come to this country for ideological reasons, which automatically instills a higher purpose into one's daily existence. As long as the ideology remains strong, this forces a person to be connected to the country in personal way. Because the country itself is so young, many of its live citizens still have a sense of pioneering the land giving them a sort of parental pride. Others come here escaping hardship looking for opportunity and in comparison to their homelands, Israel offers them more stability.
The next point becomes more obvious after having crossed two of Israel's borders (Jordan and Egypt). This tiny little country is indeed surrounded on all sides by enemies which promotes a tribal society. Within a tribe, individual needs are secondary to the survival of the tribe. The Middle East has a long-standing tribal history. The remains still exist all over the country where fortresses were strategically placed to protect communities from their enemies. The country of Israel has become a fortress for Jews (and non-Jews) all over the world searching for safety and survival. People are escaping religious discrimination and persecution, violent governmental regimes, poverty etc. With the military presence everywhere you turn, Israeli citizens know their fortress is being protected. Living in this tribe somehow requires citizens to sacrifice some of their individual needs for the survival of the country. In turn, Israelis depend on one another more.
The privileges that come more easily with an American passport can be achieved here but are reached with a deeper level of appreciation. Case in point. Devorah and I rented a car this weekend and (among other trips) had a therapeutic release by Target-style shopping. How many times did I take for granted simply jumping in my car for a Target run to load up and pull up to my door to unload the cargo? It's second nature. I never even thought twice. Not this time. With every step through the aisles our eyes were in awe of all the options and reduced prices. And the fun didn't stop. There would be no schlepping on a bus or walking. Door-to-door service. AHHHHHHH. The ease a rental car gave us in buying just some basic necessities for the house. Including... du da du. Drum roll please......A fold up, plastic 6-person diningroom table. Our charming sunroom has instantly been transformed into a dininghall. And only the two of us can understand how this may somehow contribute to our staying in our war-torn apartment. Happiness and Appreciation experienced with something I'd consider quite ordinary in America.
Privilege and Appreciation. I guess my parents knew what they were doing when they worked hard and saved to move to the suburbs in order to give their children the privilege of better schools. Do any of the students/parents in my previous District 112 think it is a privilege to have a Smart Board in every classroom? To have personal laptops? For the class sizes to be under 30? To be able to join after-school activities? For their teachers to answer parent phone calls and emails? My guess is an emphatic "no." At one of my schools, there is no computer lab. And the students who are given the "privilege" to log on to the one open computer during a free period will likely have to share with other students. Are they more appreciative of the opportunity to log on? I have to say, I think so. When things in life are taken for granted and you run on automatic pilot it hard to be appreciative. Though I do not think I can endure some of my Israeli challenges long-term, the temporary sacrifices are 100% making me more appreciative. I can only speak about my personal experience and therefore I cannot generalize, but for me the work environment is a lot less toxic. There are challenges and pressures but overall there is much more solidarity and less division among professionals. I am appreciate of this though saddened by the insulting salaries.
Finally, I think the Mediterranean climate, diet, and lifestyle contribute to Israeli Happiness. Taking a simple evening stroll along the sea, eating healthy fresh food, and absorbing lots of vitamin D all year round helps buffer the daily hardships. Of course experiencing this with close family and friends helps once again to promote Happiness. So some of what I see as contributing to Israel's somewhat impressive Happiness ranking (considering its economic and political reality): close social ties, ideology, pride, patriotism, tribal survival, deeper appreciation.
Happiness. One of the most important emotional states. Some strive to achieve this through pursuing specific career paths, acquiring large bank accounts, procreating, socializing, giving and receiving love, feeding their sensory systems with food, sex, drugs, music, art, dancing etc.
In America, where most would agree anything is possible, things were fine for me. Status quo. While I do agree that America is the "land of opportunity" I'm not sure I would agree that the streets are "paved in gold." Life is unquestionably much easier for me in the US than it is for me in Israel and yet I am signing up for another year and citizenship in this country. So I have to ask myself "why is that?" Does it have something to do with my pursuit of Happiness? I publicly complain a lot about the inconveniences I encounter living here, so what exactly do I see contributing to Happiness in Israel?
First of all, the value system here in Israel seems like it is based more on close family ties. By "close" I mean in proximity since the country is small and children stay in their parents' modest-sized home until later in life. I also happen to see many grandparents caring for their young grandchildren and continuing to spoil them well into their young adulthood. Because of financial stress, there also seems to be an multi- generational reliance on family members to help provide necessities. For example, on our apartment lease, the first information requested is "parents' address and phone number." Later, I was explained that often it is the parents who co-sign on apartment leases. Due to its shear size and the options for University and jobs in America, children begin to leave the nest much earlier. Once settled with their own families, they may only return on an annual basis.
Then there is the sense of pride and ideology here. Many people chose to come to this country for ideological reasons, which automatically instills a higher purpose into one's daily existence. As long as the ideology remains strong, this forces a person to be connected to the country in personal way. Because the country itself is so young, many of its live citizens still have a sense of pioneering the land giving them a sort of parental pride. Others come here escaping hardship looking for opportunity and in comparison to their homelands, Israel offers them more stability.
The next point becomes more obvious after having crossed two of Israel's borders (Jordan and Egypt). This tiny little country is indeed surrounded on all sides by enemies which promotes a tribal society. Within a tribe, individual needs are secondary to the survival of the tribe. The Middle East has a long-standing tribal history. The remains still exist all over the country where fortresses were strategically placed to protect communities from their enemies. The country of Israel has become a fortress for Jews (and non-Jews) all over the world searching for safety and survival. People are escaping religious discrimination and persecution, violent governmental regimes, poverty etc. With the military presence everywhere you turn, Israeli citizens know their fortress is being protected. Living in this tribe somehow requires citizens to sacrifice some of their individual needs for the survival of the country. In turn, Israelis depend on one another more.
The privileges that come more easily with an American passport can be achieved here but are reached with a deeper level of appreciation. Case in point. Devorah and I rented a car this weekend and (among other trips) had a therapeutic release by Target-style shopping. How many times did I take for granted simply jumping in my car for a Target run to load up and pull up to my door to unload the cargo? It's second nature. I never even thought twice. Not this time. With every step through the aisles our eyes were in awe of all the options and reduced prices. And the fun didn't stop. There would be no schlepping on a bus or walking. Door-to-door service. AHHHHHHH. The ease a rental car gave us in buying just some basic necessities for the house. Including... du da du. Drum roll please......A fold up, plastic 6-person diningroom table. Our charming sunroom has instantly been transformed into a dininghall. And only the two of us can understand how this may somehow contribute to our staying in our war-torn apartment. Happiness and Appreciation experienced with something I'd consider quite ordinary in America.
Privilege and Appreciation. I guess my parents knew what they were doing when they worked hard and saved to move to the suburbs in order to give their children the privilege of better schools. Do any of the students/parents in my previous District 112 think it is a privilege to have a Smart Board in every classroom? To have personal laptops? For the class sizes to be under 30? To be able to join after-school activities? For their teachers to answer parent phone calls and emails? My guess is an emphatic "no." At one of my schools, there is no computer lab. And the students who are given the "privilege" to log on to the one open computer during a free period will likely have to share with other students. Are they more appreciative of the opportunity to log on? I have to say, I think so. When things in life are taken for granted and you run on automatic pilot it hard to be appreciative. Though I do not think I can endure some of my Israeli challenges long-term, the temporary sacrifices are 100% making me more appreciative. I can only speak about my personal experience and therefore I cannot generalize, but for me the work environment is a lot less toxic. There are challenges and pressures but overall there is much more solidarity and less division among professionals. I am appreciate of this though saddened by the insulting salaries.
Finally, I think the Mediterranean climate, diet, and lifestyle contribute to Israeli Happiness. Taking a simple evening stroll along the sea, eating healthy fresh food, and absorbing lots of vitamin D all year round helps buffer the daily hardships. Of course experiencing this with close family and friends helps once again to promote Happiness. So some of what I see as contributing to Israel's somewhat impressive Happiness ranking (considering its economic and political reality): close social ties, ideology, pride, patriotism, tribal survival, deeper appreciation.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Be careful what you wish for
Rewind exactly one year ago. I was packing up my 1200 square foot townhouse dividing my contents into categories: moving with me into "the sorority house," donations, moving into storage, moving to friends' homes, or leaving for my tenants. The stress and fatigue left me delirious. I don't think I would fit the criteria for a hoarder but 5 years in the same spacious home allowed for quite a bit of accumulation. The process of paring my belongings down took me months and each step of the way I cursed my American consumerism. I vividly remember wondering why I owned umteen pairs of jeans and white pants. A girl has to update her wardrobe every now and then, right? Though my parents didn't really raise me to value flashy "things" I honestly found some pleasure in my home furnishings. And with endless closet space, a basement, and garage things never felt cluttered. With a healthy American salary and Target around the corner, there is no reason to say "no," right?
"I wonder if I could not buy anything for an entire year......" I posed this challenge to myself before lugging my three suitcases on the plane bound for the Middle East. Ha. Little did I know that would be way easier than it sounded at the time. I've lived here seven months and aside from some of the absolute necessities (mattress, closet, kitchen supplies, couch etc.), I have purchased 1. slippers, 2. hat and 3. dress. I would come out with more from one trip to Target.
What is the value of being a consumer in America where supplies are endless, affordable, and the options diverse? It's so easy. It's what we are bred for. When we suffer economically, the government offers "bail outs" and encourages citizens to spend. We happily invest in keeping Corporate America alive and thriving with our dollars. I don't understand economics enough to understand what is happening in this country but I know for a fact, it is a different beast. To begin with, Israel is founded with principals of Socialism in addition to relying on a strong military presence for its survival. That means that taxes are higher but things like health care and education are less expensive. However, working within the education system in one of the richest towns in Israel leaves me confused. 40 students to a classroom, educators making minimum wage, no technology, no special education resources, no extra curricular activities, hmmm. Ok. So they mean at the university level then, right? Ummm, there are something like 30 spaces a year in the country for various Masters programs forcing students to go abroad to receive higher education and then return to the workforce. Transportation? Nope. Gas prices are some of the highest in the world (something like $8 a gallon). Buses and trains are expensive and cars cost twice as much. Rent and food then? Uggh, no so much. In popular neighborhoods, the rent is similar or higher to that of the States but with little to no amenities. Groceries also more expensive than the States. It's no surprise then, that thousands of social protesters camped out in the streets last summer begging for economic relief. I really don't get it. Are prices artificially low in America because of the scale in which we purchase? Are high prices in Israel a result of the exploitation and corruption of the Mafia here?
Needless to say, breaking away from my American consumerism was easy due to necessity. Typical Israelis don't live with the same level of over- indulgence since space and money is limited. There is no complementary bread basket and water given before your gargantuan meal at a restaurant. No free samples of perfume and lotion thrown in your bag after purchasing cosmetics. I haven't seen anyone with a backup refrigerator and freezer for their stockpile of food. Instead, I've seen educated middle class families of 5 living in small 2 bedroom apartments. I've seen parents bicycling to daycare with one kid riding on the back the other on the front. I've seen people carpooling and sharing the burden of gas prices to get around. I've seen people purchase enough groceries to prepare only 1-2 meals. At the end of the day, the result of Socialism that is most easy for me to observe in Israel is how it forces social dependence, physical proximity, and careful financial planing onto citizens. People rely on each other a lot more here. Families, friends, colleagues, and neighbors are in closer contact here; most people are concerned with survival. For the next year, I will continue to explore my connection to Caplitalism and Socialism and decide where life will take me.
"I wonder if I could not buy anything for an entire year......" I posed this challenge to myself before lugging my three suitcases on the plane bound for the Middle East. Ha. Little did I know that would be way easier than it sounded at the time. I've lived here seven months and aside from some of the absolute necessities (mattress, closet, kitchen supplies, couch etc.), I have purchased 1. slippers, 2. hat and 3. dress. I would come out with more from one trip to Target.
What is the value of being a consumer in America where supplies are endless, affordable, and the options diverse? It's so easy. It's what we are bred for. When we suffer economically, the government offers "bail outs" and encourages citizens to spend. We happily invest in keeping Corporate America alive and thriving with our dollars. I don't understand economics enough to understand what is happening in this country but I know for a fact, it is a different beast. To begin with, Israel is founded with principals of Socialism in addition to relying on a strong military presence for its survival. That means that taxes are higher but things like health care and education are less expensive. However, working within the education system in one of the richest towns in Israel leaves me confused. 40 students to a classroom, educators making minimum wage, no technology, no special education resources, no extra curricular activities, hmmm. Ok. So they mean at the university level then, right? Ummm, there are something like 30 spaces a year in the country for various Masters programs forcing students to go abroad to receive higher education and then return to the workforce. Transportation? Nope. Gas prices are some of the highest in the world (something like $8 a gallon). Buses and trains are expensive and cars cost twice as much. Rent and food then? Uggh, no so much. In popular neighborhoods, the rent is similar or higher to that of the States but with little to no amenities. Groceries also more expensive than the States. It's no surprise then, that thousands of social protesters camped out in the streets last summer begging for economic relief. I really don't get it. Are prices artificially low in America because of the scale in which we purchase? Are high prices in Israel a result of the exploitation and corruption of the Mafia here?
Needless to say, breaking away from my American consumerism was easy due to necessity. Typical Israelis don't live with the same level of over- indulgence since space and money is limited. There is no complementary bread basket and water given before your gargantuan meal at a restaurant. No free samples of perfume and lotion thrown in your bag after purchasing cosmetics. I haven't seen anyone with a backup refrigerator and freezer for their stockpile of food. Instead, I've seen educated middle class families of 5 living in small 2 bedroom apartments. I've seen parents bicycling to daycare with one kid riding on the back the other on the front. I've seen people carpooling and sharing the burden of gas prices to get around. I've seen people purchase enough groceries to prepare only 1-2 meals. At the end of the day, the result of Socialism that is most easy for me to observe in Israel is how it forces social dependence, physical proximity, and careful financial planing onto citizens. People rely on each other a lot more here. Families, friends, colleagues, and neighbors are in closer contact here; most people are concerned with survival. For the next year, I will continue to explore my connection to Caplitalism and Socialism and decide where life will take me.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
The sun will come out tomorrow
WARNING. THE FOLLOWING ENTRY CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY GROSSED OUT.
After the most rainy winter Israel has had in a while, the sun is fighting for its summer arrival.
How apropos after being hit with some stubborn Israeli viruses which kept me in bed three times in the last month. Physically, I too am fighting for my inner fire to finally dry out the damp petri dish my body has become.
My latest digestive virus woke me up at 4am last Monday with a cold sweat and every orifice on high alert. Thinking the worst was over by 8am, I dragged my weak body onto the bus to work. Wrong move. A few hours (and a handful of crackers) later, I was back on the bus dizzy, nauseous, and sweating profusely. Unlike the respiratory bug that knocked me on my ass two weeks ago, the digestive strain requires proximity to a toilet. Ooops. The vigorous swaying of the public bus was exactly the shaking my stomach needed to hurl out anything that was left. Which is exactly what happened just as I came to my stop and projectiled into a bush. It brought back memories of when my office was next to the nurse's office at Oak Terrace and kids would be running into her office with a garbage can around this time of the year. Sometimes running without the garbage can, leaving breakfast on the floor outside my office. Good times.
So as the sun comes out and my immunity returns, I put on my Israeli armor and tackle the challenges that accompany life in this complex country. They say that the first year of immigration is the most difficult; I'd venture to say that it was at approximately month 6 when it truly began for me. Thankfully, I have my closest gal pals and canine sidekick by my side for fuel. Together, we remind ourselves what it takes to make it here. It takes persistence, strength, "chutzpa," talent, confidence, sacrifice, meaning, dedication, connection, street smarts, and at many times- the ability to kick-ass. So when I contemplate returning to the ease and comfort of America I am simply not ready. I like the challenge and as masochistic as it sounds, I think it is character building. I'm not going to lie, I yearn to spoil myself with pedicures, massages, facials, and the King Spa (of course) but unfortunately those luxuries are no longer part of my reality. The whole notion of immigration to Israel, which in Hebrew is called "Aliyah" (to ascend), suggests to raise/lift/move upward. Am I? I think I might be. Maybe? Sometimes I feel Israel makes you suffer in order to test your commitment, kind of like the rabbis try to discourage converts from joining the tribe. It's survival of the fittest in this country for sure. And if you make it in this country it will have to be for reasons other than materialism, ease, and comfort. I've been told it's kind of like living in one big dysfunctional family and at the end of the day, you can't escape your family. I'm still not sure though. In the end, will I be one of the fittest? One of the converts? Will I have ascended? I just don't know.
After the most rainy winter Israel has had in a while, the sun is fighting for its summer arrival.
How apropos after being hit with some stubborn Israeli viruses which kept me in bed three times in the last month. Physically, I too am fighting for my inner fire to finally dry out the damp petri dish my body has become.
My latest digestive virus woke me up at 4am last Monday with a cold sweat and every orifice on high alert. Thinking the worst was over by 8am, I dragged my weak body onto the bus to work. Wrong move. A few hours (and a handful of crackers) later, I was back on the bus dizzy, nauseous, and sweating profusely. Unlike the respiratory bug that knocked me on my ass two weeks ago, the digestive strain requires proximity to a toilet. Ooops. The vigorous swaying of the public bus was exactly the shaking my stomach needed to hurl out anything that was left. Which is exactly what happened just as I came to my stop and projectiled into a bush. It brought back memories of when my office was next to the nurse's office at Oak Terrace and kids would be running into her office with a garbage can around this time of the year. Sometimes running without the garbage can, leaving breakfast on the floor outside my office. Good times.
So as the sun comes out and my immunity returns, I put on my Israeli armor and tackle the challenges that accompany life in this complex country. They say that the first year of immigration is the most difficult; I'd venture to say that it was at approximately month 6 when it truly began for me. Thankfully, I have my closest gal pals and canine sidekick by my side for fuel. Together, we remind ourselves what it takes to make it here. It takes persistence, strength, "chutzpa," talent, confidence, sacrifice, meaning, dedication, connection, street smarts, and at many times- the ability to kick-ass. So when I contemplate returning to the ease and comfort of America I am simply not ready. I like the challenge and as masochistic as it sounds, I think it is character building. I'm not going to lie, I yearn to spoil myself with pedicures, massages, facials, and the King Spa (of course) but unfortunately those luxuries are no longer part of my reality. The whole notion of immigration to Israel, which in Hebrew is called "Aliyah" (to ascend), suggests to raise/lift/move upward. Am I? I think I might be. Maybe? Sometimes I feel Israel makes you suffer in order to test your commitment, kind of like the rabbis try to discourage converts from joining the tribe. It's survival of the fittest in this country for sure. And if you make it in this country it will have to be for reasons other than materialism, ease, and comfort. I've been told it's kind of like living in one big dysfunctional family and at the end of the day, you can't escape your family. I'm still not sure though. In the end, will I be one of the fittest? One of the converts? Will I have ascended? I just don't know.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
The Warrior Princess
So I hit the 6 month mark and was hit with the anxiety of my decision to sign up for another year living in the Middle East. Approval for another year leave of absence from my district assures my option to walk back into my job, house, car, and American life that I put on hold come September 2013. Wise people along the way have made statements to me such as “in Israel people are difficult just for the sake of being difficult” and “you need to know why you are here.” These statements made in passing have begun to haunt me especially last week.
I found myself sick with a vicious flu-like bug (perhaps because the temperature in my house is often colder than the temperature outside due to heat deflecting architecture) contemplating whether to be bothered to get my “doctor's note” or just use one of my two free yearly passes. After choosing the free pass, I dragged myself out of bed the following day in the rain to take my crowded bus commute to work. To the job that pays 1/3 of my American salary! At that exact moment, the words repeated themselves in my head, “why are you here?” Thankfully, as the rain dried up and my health returned I was able to remind myself of the reasons that I am here. I came to Israel because I needed to escape the automatic pilot setting my life was being run by. I really want to learn Hebrew. I really would like to meet an interesting Jewish guy to consider building a future with. I really want to find meaning beyond what “the American Dream” offers. Automatic as my life was in America, it sure was a lot easier than life in Israel. Any American here will echo my sentiment, yet each year plenty of us choose to attempt life in the Holyland. Many of us quickly choose to return to the comforts of Target, nice vehicles, spacious/closet-equipped dwellings, healthy salaries, the US dollar, customer -oriented service, dishwashers, driers, gas stoves, drive thrus, English, Trader Joes, bulk purchasing, hard working ethics, written employment contracts, the King Spa etc. Those of us who make it here need to find a way to channel our inner warrior. To remind myself that I can make it here, I decided to gather inner strength by watching “Xena, the Warrior Princess” and repeat the matra “whatever doesn't kill me will make me stronger.”
Four more months until I am reunited with family, friends, house, car, the King Spa, and the collection of reasonably priced belongings that will make the final cut back to Israel. If all goes as planned, I will be taking steps to officially become a citizen of this country (maintaining dual citizenship of course). Why? I can only explain with Devorah's metaphor that living in Israel is like having an affair with a really hot but slightly abusive lover.
Just a collection of cultural observations. You know you're in Israel/Israeli when:
-The Ministry of Interior is allowed to officially lie about where your file is for months.
-You're told your work visa application is “at the police department” for months until you go into another office and it's processed on the spot.
-When you feel like you've been microchipped and the country is tracking your grocery purchasing, bus rides, time in and out of the office, yoga classes, gas purchasing, bank and telephone transactions etc. You know you are “on the grid” at all times.
-You're practically asked to donate an organ before signing a rental lease
-Magenta is a tint option at the beauty salon.
-You develop excellent Tetris skill each time you open the refrigerator (they are miniature)
-Tenants travel with their appliances and closets (yes, I said closets).
-Placement of electrical outlets causes your apartment to look like a bowl of spaghetti.
-People you just meet offer to help you in ways that make you skeptical of their sincerity just to realize they are just “looking out for you.”
-Apartments come standard with roaches and poor plumbing.
-People look at you in a strange way and ask “why did you come here?”
-You can wear a light jacket and walk barefoot outside while the marble and concrete freezes you while indoors.
-In the winter months, there is a good chance your ceiling might leak and peel.
-You have to predict your warm showers and turn on the water boiler 20 minutes ahead of time.
-Within seconds of hearing an American speak Hebrew, over 50% of people can respond back in excellent English.
-Generations of cats live in dumpsters and you learn to distinguish the difference between cat brawls and baby cries.
-You spend what feels like an obscene amount of money on the most random items (toiletrees, ziplock baggies etc.).
-You dry all of your laundry outdoors and learn to live with crunchy towels.
-An 18 year old female boarding the bus in army fatigues and machine gun is just as likely as one boarding in religious attire covered from wrists to ankles.
-People prepare for professional meetings with yummy homemade dishes, European kisses, and constant cell phone interruptions.
-You have a 50/50 chance of connecting with an English speaker after pressing “4” for English.
-You can sail on the Mediterranean in January.
-You can hike in the dessert upon ancient ruins.
-The social norms of yelling and arguing make the whole country resemble a Jerry Springer episode.
-After earning an MD or PhD, you may still be earning minimum wage.
-The response to why straight men dominate the salon industry is “so we can have an excuse to be close to women all day”
-When professionals need to give their employer a “sick note” from the doctor for missing work
-People often travel with public transportation and grocery rollers to grocery shop.
-People often travel with public transportation and grocery rollers to grocery shop.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Oh, Israel
I (like many first world immigrants in Israel) find myself baffled at times wondering why Israel behaves like a third world country. When cruising the highways or sailing on the Mediterranean looking at the skyscrapers and palm trees, one could easily mistake Israel for Miami. I regret that I can't make more time to blog, because the interactions and mentality that comprise my days are truly unbelievable.
I consider myself to be better than average in my ability to adapt to new surroundings and accept different points of view, but the unfortunate turn of events with our lovely apartment have challenged my developing inner Buddha. If I weren't about to describe events from my actual life, I would find the whole story even more entertaining. I think Larry David could use this material for an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
So back in November when we fell in love with our apartment, Devorah and I knew there was a somewhat serious condensation problem that the landlord had promised would be repaired. Our damage was in the bathroom back in November, and the cause was identified as stemming from the upstairs neighbor. Their repairman and insurance would be responsible to fix our bathroom ceiling. Fair enough. We were confident that our French landlord (who coincidentally my sister knew and vouched for), held a similar mentality to ours and would indeed ensure a proper repair. Right on schedule, we were notified that the repairs would begin at the end of December. Great. Wonderful.
But wait. The repairs began upstairs and all we had received was a visit from a nasty, old, grouchy, chauvinistic "installator" who Devorah let in to inspect our apartment. Within 15 seconds of meeting this person we've named "schmukface," Devorah's spot-on intuition told her that this man was not to be trusted. That his attitude and skill set would not resolve our damage. Days went by and as his work in the upstairs unit progressed, the ceiling of our apartment progressively began to resemble a sprinkler system. Water spots appeared, spread, and paint began to chip ad fall throughout the apartment.
Not only is this a horrible aesthetic problem but it has become a serious health and safety issue. So each day. we'd write the landlord with attached pictures to inform him that his apartment was becoming more and more damaged. Thinking we were just spoiled Jewish American Princesses, he began to dismiss us. The plan was to let all the water damage dry before entering our apartment for repairs. What does that mean? Ugh, leaving all the windows open for an unknown period of time while allowing paint chips to fall over my bed at night. "Ah, I don't think so." Before long, Devorah took the initiative to obtain a threatening lawyer letter which was served to our landlord. This finally got his attention. Since we had his attention, we were now able to have a productive conversation about the deteriorating conditions and our serious intentions of leaving the apartment.
Next step, invite schmukface back in to see the ongoing damage (that his repairs were causing us). Now I got to meet this "installator" who, after 10 minutes of arguing in Hebrew with, I decided to no longer converse with. This repair would not be something negotiated between us and him. Especially considering his rationale was that "ze lo kashur" (it's not connected) and that nothing could be done until the wet concrete ceiling dried. Wow, in Israel people offer the most outlandish reasons to avoid work and responsibility sometimes. Oh yeah, my ass, the rain was causing the damage. Right. Meanwhile, us three amigas downstairs are being closed in on. We've been watching the water spread like blood through veins behind the ceiling for weeks now. No more f'in around, Devorah and I gave the landlord a March 1st deadline that we will be moving into a new apartment unless we are living here with a totally repaired and sealed ceiling. And this is all after a few weeks of battling roaches. (Did I mention that we actually really like our apartment?)
Somehow we had convinced our landlord that if he does not want his apartment to become a rainforest, it is in his best interest to have his own "installator" come for an assessment. Now this man walks in our place and in two seconds speaks some reason. Looks at me like a poor, helpless baby and asks why in the world we have all of the windows open in the middle of winter and that the leaks are just spreading by the minute and this is not a human way to live. His assessment is basically that schmukface's work will need to be completely redone properly upstairs first and the whole thing will be a major operation.
My naive American mind thought logic and reason would have sufficed. No, it took a lot of pictures, emails, 1 threatening lawyer letter, a second opinion, and a deadline to get the upstairs landlord to respond. Within 24 hours, Mama Tova comes knocking on my door. In English, "Hello, I'm the landlord from upstairs, can I please come see the damages?" Looking somewhat surprised at the condition of our ceiling, she asked if her "very good installator" had seen the apartment recently.
Oh yes, had he been down multiple times already to share his negativity, deny that any of the damage was his responsibility, scream and argue with us. Not only that, but after a threatening email he was asked to come down to at least scrape off the parts of the ceiling that were actively falling on us. Begrudgingly, he did so and then insulted Devorah for the high quality plastic baggie and rag that she offered him to clean up his mess. The dude is a real charmer and yes, he was aware of the conditions.
"Well he will have to come back tonight and see the spreading damage." This is now February 2nd and I have already decided never to be alone in my house with this nasty human. So I refuse her request to let him in but agree that she can tour him around herself to see the results of all of his beautiful work. I stand quietly, watching and listening to the two of them analyze the damage. My response to her is that I have very little confidence in this "very good installator" and that I do not feel comfortable allowing him in to do repairs until speaking with my landlord.
Ahh. I probably should mention that our landlord practically lives in France so Devorah and I are stuck in this pingpong game between insurance companies, landlords, and installators.
Suddenly, this schmukface who thought "nothing is connected" and couldn't start repairs until all of the wetness had dried is ready to come in next week and fix it all up perfectly in 2 days. Here's where the sitcom can begin.
Notifying Devorah about his possible entry next week caused both of us some concern. Over the phone (because she is partially living outside the apartment because of the conditions) from Hod Hasharon Devorah wanted to have an idea of how shmuckface intended to repair something that was "not connected" and "that needed to dry." Logical. So the number Mama Tova had given me was her home number. Meanwhile she was in the upstairs apartment (where her daughter, son-in-law, and 2 small children reside) having a pow-wow with her family. Against my will, I agree to walk upstairs in my footie pajamas and bathrobe to hand the phone to mama Tova.
Not so easy. The son-in-law interjects that they would be happy to have a live conversation with Devorah but refused to engage in a conversation over the phone for fear the conversation was being recorded. Finally, Devorah convinces him to pass the phone to mama Tova (landlord in charge) who orders the mama to speak to Devorah in Hebrew. Ok, we all agree that is fair since Hebrew is the language of the country but his request was intended just to cause communication problems since she also speaks in solid English. So mama Tova precedes to raise her voice and concoct all these strange scenarios in Hebrew until Devorah is forced to hang up the phone on her. Scenarios such as... our installator barged into their apartment and poured water down the pipes to cause water damage in our apartment etc. etc.
So here I stand in my footie pajamas and bathrobe in this surreal moment like a scene out of Pulp Fiction. After being interrogted about Devorah's medical conditions, I'm told by the son-in-law that we are only causing more problems for ourselves. He stares at me like I'm a crazy spoiled American because I don't want to live in an apartment that their repairman is making a rainforest. Devorah has just hung up the phone on mama Tova and my Buddha returns. I look at them and calmly reply "this will not be our problem much longer. What will be, will be" and I exit stage right.
About 10pm after a long day at work and 4 apartment visits, our landlord is contacted in France and told of the evening events. The next logical solution.......THE TWO INSTALLATORS WILL MEET TO DISCUSS THE PLAN. Where am I? Oh yeah, the Middle East. It turns out that schmukface will be coming in this week to "repair" our place. Meanwhile, Devorah and I plan to hit the classified ads. Stay tuned to see where we will be living as of March 1st. Leave your votes here or on Facebook.
I consider myself to be better than average in my ability to adapt to new surroundings and accept different points of view, but the unfortunate turn of events with our lovely apartment have challenged my developing inner Buddha. If I weren't about to describe events from my actual life, I would find the whole story even more entertaining. I think Larry David could use this material for an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
So back in November when we fell in love with our apartment, Devorah and I knew there was a somewhat serious condensation problem that the landlord had promised would be repaired. Our damage was in the bathroom back in November, and the cause was identified as stemming from the upstairs neighbor. Their repairman and insurance would be responsible to fix our bathroom ceiling. Fair enough. We were confident that our French landlord (who coincidentally my sister knew and vouched for), held a similar mentality to ours and would indeed ensure a proper repair. Right on schedule, we were notified that the repairs would begin at the end of December. Great. Wonderful.
But wait. The repairs began upstairs and all we had received was a visit from a nasty, old, grouchy, chauvinistic "installator" who Devorah let in to inspect our apartment. Within 15 seconds of meeting this person we've named "schmukface," Devorah's spot-on intuition told her that this man was not to be trusted. That his attitude and skill set would not resolve our damage. Days went by and as his work in the upstairs unit progressed, the ceiling of our apartment progressively began to resemble a sprinkler system. Water spots appeared, spread, and paint began to chip ad fall throughout the apartment.
Not only is this a horrible aesthetic problem but it has become a serious health and safety issue. So each day. we'd write the landlord with attached pictures to inform him that his apartment was becoming more and more damaged. Thinking we were just spoiled Jewish American Princesses, he began to dismiss us. The plan was to let all the water damage dry before entering our apartment for repairs. What does that mean? Ugh, leaving all the windows open for an unknown period of time while allowing paint chips to fall over my bed at night. "Ah, I don't think so." Before long, Devorah took the initiative to obtain a threatening lawyer letter which was served to our landlord. This finally got his attention. Since we had his attention, we were now able to have a productive conversation about the deteriorating conditions and our serious intentions of leaving the apartment.
Next step, invite schmukface back in to see the ongoing damage (that his repairs were causing us). Now I got to meet this "installator" who, after 10 minutes of arguing in Hebrew with, I decided to no longer converse with. This repair would not be something negotiated between us and him. Especially considering his rationale was that "ze lo kashur" (it's not connected) and that nothing could be done until the wet concrete ceiling dried. Wow, in Israel people offer the most outlandish reasons to avoid work and responsibility sometimes. Oh yeah, my ass, the rain was causing the damage. Right. Meanwhile, us three amigas downstairs are being closed in on. We've been watching the water spread like blood through veins behind the ceiling for weeks now. No more f'in around, Devorah and I gave the landlord a March 1st deadline that we will be moving into a new apartment unless we are living here with a totally repaired and sealed ceiling. And this is all after a few weeks of battling roaches. (Did I mention that we actually really like our apartment?)
Somehow we had convinced our landlord that if he does not want his apartment to become a rainforest, it is in his best interest to have his own "installator" come for an assessment. Now this man walks in our place and in two seconds speaks some reason. Looks at me like a poor, helpless baby and asks why in the world we have all of the windows open in the middle of winter and that the leaks are just spreading by the minute and this is not a human way to live. His assessment is basically that schmukface's work will need to be completely redone properly upstairs first and the whole thing will be a major operation.
My naive American mind thought logic and reason would have sufficed. No, it took a lot of pictures, emails, 1 threatening lawyer letter, a second opinion, and a deadline to get the upstairs landlord to respond. Within 24 hours, Mama Tova comes knocking on my door. In English, "Hello, I'm the landlord from upstairs, can I please come see the damages?" Looking somewhat surprised at the condition of our ceiling, she asked if her "very good installator" had seen the apartment recently.
Oh yes, had he been down multiple times already to share his negativity, deny that any of the damage was his responsibility, scream and argue with us. Not only that, but after a threatening email he was asked to come down to at least scrape off the parts of the ceiling that were actively falling on us. Begrudgingly, he did so and then insulted Devorah for the high quality plastic baggie and rag that she offered him to clean up his mess. The dude is a real charmer and yes, he was aware of the conditions.
"Well he will have to come back tonight and see the spreading damage." This is now February 2nd and I have already decided never to be alone in my house with this nasty human. So I refuse her request to let him in but agree that she can tour him around herself to see the results of all of his beautiful work. I stand quietly, watching and listening to the two of them analyze the damage. My response to her is that I have very little confidence in this "very good installator" and that I do not feel comfortable allowing him in to do repairs until speaking with my landlord.
Ahh. I probably should mention that our landlord practically lives in France so Devorah and I are stuck in this pingpong game between insurance companies, landlords, and installators.
Suddenly, this schmukface who thought "nothing is connected" and couldn't start repairs until all of the wetness had dried is ready to come in next week and fix it all up perfectly in 2 days. Here's where the sitcom can begin.
Notifying Devorah about his possible entry next week caused both of us some concern. Over the phone (because she is partially living outside the apartment because of the conditions) from Hod Hasharon Devorah wanted to have an idea of how shmuckface intended to repair something that was "not connected" and "that needed to dry." Logical. So the number Mama Tova had given me was her home number. Meanwhile she was in the upstairs apartment (where her daughter, son-in-law, and 2 small children reside) having a pow-wow with her family. Against my will, I agree to walk upstairs in my footie pajamas and bathrobe to hand the phone to mama Tova.
Not so easy. The son-in-law interjects that they would be happy to have a live conversation with Devorah but refused to engage in a conversation over the phone for fear the conversation was being recorded. Finally, Devorah convinces him to pass the phone to mama Tova (landlord in charge) who orders the mama to speak to Devorah in Hebrew. Ok, we all agree that is fair since Hebrew is the language of the country but his request was intended just to cause communication problems since she also speaks in solid English. So mama Tova precedes to raise her voice and concoct all these strange scenarios in Hebrew until Devorah is forced to hang up the phone on her. Scenarios such as... our installator barged into their apartment and poured water down the pipes to cause water damage in our apartment etc. etc.
So here I stand in my footie pajamas and bathrobe in this surreal moment like a scene out of Pulp Fiction. After being interrogted about Devorah's medical conditions, I'm told by the son-in-law that we are only causing more problems for ourselves. He stares at me like I'm a crazy spoiled American because I don't want to live in an apartment that their repairman is making a rainforest. Devorah has just hung up the phone on mama Tova and my Buddha returns. I look at them and calmly reply "this will not be our problem much longer. What will be, will be" and I exit stage right.
About 10pm after a long day at work and 4 apartment visits, our landlord is contacted in France and told of the evening events. The next logical solution.......THE TWO INSTALLATORS WILL MEET TO DISCUSS THE PLAN. Where am I? Oh yeah, the Middle East. It turns out that schmukface will be coming in this week to "repair" our place. Meanwhile, Devorah and I plan to hit the classified ads. Stay tuned to see where we will be living as of March 1st. Leave your votes here or on Facebook.
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