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.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
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.
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