The Perils of an Israeli Cyclist

Somehow, I got this idea that I wanted to cycle my way around Be'er Sheva instead of spending my money on a bus pass and on costly taxi rides.  So, for my birthday, I bought myself a shiny pink bicycle with a basket and a rack on the back.  I'll tell you, my body is mighty happy at this decision as I'm watching the weight just slide off and as my legs are getting strong enough to kill a man.  My wallet is also happy, and I love the feeling of independence that it brings.  There are drawbacks, however, and I'm ready to rant about them. 

Here is my gorgeous bike, decorated for Israeli Independence Day.

 

My major beef is with pedestrians.  I don't think people realize how stupidly they walk when strolling down a sidewalk.  People don't walk in straight lines and are very unpredictable.  They also prefer to walk directly in the middle of the sidewalk, regardless of how narrow or wide it may be.  Now, I know that a lot of you will say, "But you shouldn't be riding your bike on the sidewalk."  First of all, there is plenty of room to share the way.  Second, if I didn't ride on the sidewalk, you would all be reading my obituary because I would already be dead from Israeli drivers.  And third, my city is full of bikes, and bike paths are slowly being built - I just see at as I'm using these paths before they're ready.  ;)

 

Okay, pedestrians.  Their unpredictability and their sporadic behavior makes life for us cyclists a nightmare.  I have this adorable bell on my bicycle which is really only effective at scaring cats and birds out of my way.  I find myself ringing this bell ad nauseum, followed by my exasperated pleas of "slicha!" or "excuse me!"  Lastly, I do my best to "think skinny" on the bike and squeeze past these ridiculous pedestrians, much to their panic as they realize I'm there (not like I wasn't making enough noise earlier).  This exchange then ends in me saying something smartass and giving them an annoyed glare.  So Israeli of me.

 

Now, there are some pedestrians who are worse than others.  Let me say, you would be surprised at how much room a little old lady can take up on a sidewalk.  I hate ringing my bell at them because I don't want to scare them, so I typically proceed with great caution.  Somehow, though, they always end up exactly in my way, moving with me as I try to pass.  It's like they know...

 

The second, and arguably most annoying, group needs some explanation.  If you're Israeli, you know exactly the stereotype of arsim and frechot.  For those who don't, I've found this hysterical video that explains the arsim stereotype, with a short cameo of who frechot are.  Watch it before continuing.

 





Warning, I'm about to feed into a stereotype A LOT.  Just be aware.  So basically, you have these overly masculine, arrogant, slightly ignorant men, or arsim and these overly made-up, high pitched air heads who make up the female counterpart, or frechot.  They typically travel in groups, too, which makes them even more dangerous.  They knowingly won't move for a bicycle, and I've gotten very close to flattening a few over the past few weeks.  The trick is to not give up your space and just keep going.  It's like a constant game of chicken, wondering who's going to give in and move first.  Thank goodness, the sheer heft on my bike gives me a significant advantage.  I'm not gonna lie - I've considered making a game out of it and assigning points based on just how stereotypical my opponents are and how hard they are to get out of my way.  I'm sure I'm getting a reputation as "that bitchy blonde girl on the bike."

 

Also, when you're on a bike, and I guess just in general in Israeli life, people really feel the need to give you their opinions about things, especially YOUR things.  The most poignant example just happened to me yesterday.  I was stopped at a stoplight, waiting to cross, and this taxi pulled into the turn lane with his window down because it was a GORGEOUS day.  He promptly started talking to me and lecturing me on how I need to wear sunscreen if I'm going to be riding my bicycle around in the desert.  I mean, I realize that I'm eggshell white, and it didn't help that I was wearing a dress with biking shorts underneath, exposing my transparent legs, but seriously?  Also, guys think that if they compliment on how cute my bike is that I'll actually stop and talk to them.  What, you've never seen a cute American in a dress on a bicycle before?  Sometimes in heels, I might add.  :) 

 

And those are my current rants of being an Israeli cyclist.  Amateur for sure, but I'm loving every minute of it.  So, I need to go put on sunscreen and get ready for my next adventure.  Until next time!



Israeli Famous

As promised, here is a translation of the piece I wrote for the Channel 2 news here in Israel.  If you want to see the original article in Hebrew, go to this link.  Enjoy!
 
The First 6 Months

My first Yom Hatzmaut is quickly approaching, and I’m happy to finally be here celebrating as an Israeli.  I’ve only been here half a year, but it feels like much longer.  In this short amount of time, I have experienced more than a lot of olim experience in their first ten years, and I feel like I’m ready for just about anything.  So, let’s recap this “Year of Firsts”!

October 2012 – I landed at Ben Gurion airport and walked into Israel for the first time as an Israeli.   Little did I know what would be waiting for me with this new identity…

 Me in Jerusalem with my Teudat Zehut – officially Israeli!

October 28, 2012 – At 0530 in the morning, I experienced my first azaka (air raid siren) in my home of Be’er Sheva.  Nothing prepares you for that piercing sound, especially when it wakes you from a dead sleep.  I had no idea what was coming for me in just two short weeks…

November 2012 – I sang “Hatikva” for the first time as an Israeli at a Yithak Rabin memorial ceremony.  I had chills all over and felt an overwhelming pride for my new country. 

November 14, 2012 – Not even a month in Israel, and I was in the middle of my first war, Amud Anon.  There were lots of firsts with the war:  first time being stuck outside for an azaka, first time smelling and feeling an explosion, first time doubting if I had made the right decision to make aliyah.  I also drove through the “war zone” of the South and saw rockets explode in the sky like fireworks.  I got stuck in a traffic jam that was caused by a rocket that hit the road.  And finally, I successfully made my first schuna (in other words, we made a scene) in Hertizliyah with other “Southern refugees,” acting crazy and getting a huge discount on dinner because we were all from Be’er Sheva.

 

Me and the dog stuck in the Mamad, pretending we could actually sleep.


At a friend’s house, ready to run to the shelter in my cowboy boots.  War makes you a little crazy.

December 2012 – For the first time, someone thought I was some nationality other than American.  Lots of people try to speak Russian to me now, but that makes more sense than the guy at a club who thought I was Moroccan.  When he didn’t believe me, I spoke to him in English with a good Southern accent, and he responded in Hebrew, “Why is this Moroccan pretending she can speak English?!”

January 2013 – This was a big month of firsts.  I learned what a checkpoint looks like as I drove right past it and into the West Bank accidentally.  I also learned how scary it is to drive past Hebron in the middle of the night, not knowing exactly when I was going to get back into Israel.

When I returned the rental car that took me on the last adventure, for the first time, I actually stood up for myself when the worker told me I hadn’t put enough gas in the car.  I knew very well I had, and I’ve never felt more Israeli than when I told him to go put gas in it himself. 

January 21, 2013 – Some brilliant person thought it would be a good idea to let me vote in a national election soon after making aliyah, so that was another first.  I proudly voted for Yair Lapid after lots of research.  It didn’t hurt that he’s a hottie, and I also learned the Hebrew word for “hunk” because of him.

 

In the voting booth.

February 2013 – I started getting more confident in my ability to speak Hebrew, and I made my first big fadicha with a tiny spelling mistake.  Instead of writing: "אני חושבת שאקבל ציון גבוה" I wrote "זיון גבוה" (“I think I’ll get a high grade” but instead, I wrote, “high fuck”).  I also randomly started to remember various Russian words instead of the Hebrew words.  Let’s just say I got a 1 + 1 deal in my ulpan class.

March 2013 – I bought a bicycle for my birthday at the beginning of March, and I’ve turned into an Israeli driver.  A car cut me off the other day, and I threw my hands up and screamed at him, ending my complaints with “ya maniac!”

I also started working in my first Israeli job at the end of March in a clothing store.  I’m still not sure why men think it is okay to just try on clothes in the middle of the store.  I’ve seen more back hair and fat than I ever thought I would in my whole life.  Gentlemen, there’s a dressing room for a reason!  I’m walking out of the store the first time a guy tries on pants on the sales floor.

April 2013 – Probably as a result of being tired from the new job, I was in Aroma one morning, and I really wanted orange juice, but I asked for a potato instead.  I know, these two words are not so close, but in my head, there is a connection.

Passover 2013 will be forever remembered as the first Passover where I gained weight.  We don’t have the luxury of Kosher for Passover food in Arkansas, and so normally, this week is one of suffering and dieting.  This year, I literally ate so much one day that I couldn’t comfortably eat for 27 hours, and another day I had to excuse myself from the table to go take a nap. 

Along with Passover came my first Mimuna.  I have been excited about going to a Mimuna since I learned that it even existed.  Be sure, I was not let down.  Me and my group of best friends went to a Mimuna all together, eating mufletta, singing ridiculous songs, and learning how to kululululu.

Eating my FIRST mufletta at my FIRST mimuna!

 

The best friends (who I aptly named the chofrim) teaching me how to be Israeli.

Yom HaShoa 2013 – This day was more powerful than I ever thought it could be.  I experienced my first siren (which I was panicked about because of my trauma from the war), and I was amazed at how an entire country can stand still to honor those lives lost in the Shoa.  The respect Israelis have for this day was overwhelming and beautiful.

And next?  My first Yom Hatzmaut, exactly on my six month anniversary of making aliyah.  I’m so excited to see what the next six months has in store…

The Chills of Yom HaShoa

Yom HaShoa, Holocaust Remembrance Day.  I definitely wasn't prepared for how powerful this day would be here in Israel.  It's a different, more intense feeling, definitely because of the deep connection this country has to the horrors of the Holocaust and the triumphs of the Jewish people afterward.  It has honestly been hard to get back to that feeling of profound sadness, and I've been dreading writing this, a bit, just because of how much it shook me.

I first started feeling the buzz of the day Sunday night.  As I'm sure many of you know (or maybe I've mentioned it before), all of our holidays start at sundown the evening before.  I had worked all day and had come home to crash before going to scavenge for food since I hadn't been grocery shopping.  I took the dog on a walk with dreams of falafel dancing in my hungry head only to find everything closed up tight.  Everything.  Even the little convenience store that is open on Shabbat was closed.  That's the first time it hit me just how heavy this holiday is for everyone here.  I retreated to my house and cooked all that I had, plain chicken breast and spinach.  Which, in retrospect, would have been a feast for a lot of people, especially those whose memories we were recalling.  And now I'm feeling a bit guilty about complaining as much as I did. 

I was a little panicked about the next morning because my friends had informed me that at 10am, there would be a two minute long siren to honor the memory of those lost in the Holocaust.  This brought back horrible fears of the war and the constant sirens, but I was assured that this siren sounded different.  I nervously watched the clock all morning, and when 10am came, the piercing siren started.  However, this did not evoke a sense of fear in me but more, a sense of chilling realization.  I stood at my window, trying to calm the frightened dog, and I watched as the street behind my house became empty as people actually stopped on the road to show respect.  I reflected on why we were all stopping, and I was initially hit with a wave of sadness connected to this tragedy.  But curiously, I was next hit with a sense of pride in that I am living proof that the Jewish people have succeeded and survived.  I am here, living the dream, and continuing on the Jewish legacy.  By living my life, by just being alive, I was honoring all those lives lost.  The fact that I was finally living my life in a Jewish place and living to strengthen the nation of Israel was an even profounder way of honoring their memories.  A lot passed through my head in those two minutes, obviously, but it was so powerful.  Just to give you a taste, watch this video of how my country reacted to this siren and how they honored those 6 million lives.  It's worth it to watch it all the way to the end and experience what we did. 

I felt so proud of the fact that I am Israeli, and I watched as other new olim reacted to what they had also just experienced for the first time on Facebook.  Pretty amazing stuff.

On a different note, there was also another feeling throughout that day.  As I was waiting for my dinner to be done Sunday night, I got an alert on my phone saying that, yet again, there had been a rocket attack in Southern Israel.  That mix of emotions was hard to take.  The fear, the anger, the sadness, the cynicism, the almost hopelessness.  What's worse is that it interrupted a Holocaust Remembrance ceremony...here's another video just to show you the reality of the situation.  The woman is saying "Red Alert, Red Alert" as the kids instinctively bolt for shelter.  This town, Sderot, only has 15 seconds to reach a safe place before the impact of the incoming rocket(s).  And what timing, while these brave residents were honoring those lost in the Holocaust. 

I'll leave you with that on which to reflect, but rest assured, our next posts will be FUN as Israeli Independence Day is just around the corner.  Shabbat Shalom! 

Another Day, Another Fadicha

In case I haven't taught you this word yet, you really need to know the Hebrew word "fadicha."  It means like a screw up, an embarrassment, a fiasco, and I make a lot of them when I'm speaking Hebrew.  As promised, here is my funny story about my most recent language mishap. 

I was working in the fitting room in the guys' section at the Bat Yam store near Tel Aviv (where I'm training until our huge store opens in Be'er Sheva).  This handsome guy walks in, and I give him a room.  A few minutes later, his friend comes in and asks me something I didn't quite understand fully, until the end when I realized he was looking for his friend.  So, I said to him, "You're friend is here."  However, in this curious language, the word "friend" is also frequently used to describe a significant other.  This is not something they taught us in ulpan (intensive Hebrew classes), and furthermore, they didn't teach us that there is a word to use to describe someone as strictly a friend ("yadid" instead of "chaver").  Back to our scene...so, the guy thought that I thought that he and his friend were a couple, and he quickly and defensively corrected my Hebrew.  I know I blushed, and I got so embarrassed, but I really couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Oh, right."  Now, I'm very careful to use these words correctly...even though normal Israelis aren't so careful about their word choice.  ::sigh::  Being a new immigrant...

As for an Artur update, you guys helped get him over 900 votes!  That's amazing because they were all genuine and organic.  Sadly enough, he didn't make it to the finals, although it was VERY close.  My theory is that he's just too good and so above the rest that the judges didn't think it was fair for him to be involved.  :P  He and I both appreciate all the support...if you want more, just go to his YouTube channel. 

In other exciting news, I was called by the same reporter who did a story on me during the war, and he asked me to write about all the "firsts" I have had as an Israeli leading up to Israeli Independence Day next week.  I worked really hard on the article, and I am happy to report that it will be published in the online version of Channel 2 here in Israel.  Of course, I'll post a link and a translation when it happens, either Monday or Tuesday.  Even cooler is that I realized that Israeli Independence Day corresponds exactly with my 6 month Aliyah-versary.  I can't believe it's already been half a year!  Wow...things just keep getting better and better. 

Until next time, my dear readers!

A Bribe

Okay, my dear readers.  I made a really funny mistake in Hebrew today, and I really want to tell you about it!  Buttttt...I'm not going to until we give my darling dear friend, Artur Katz, some last minute help so he can be in the top four and go to the finals of this Depeche Mode competition.  All the other bands are getting a last minute push, and it is TIGHT.  We need to show him all the support and love we can and NOW!  We have less than 7 hours before the end of voting.

Simply go to this link, scroll down to underneath Artur's video, and click the Facebook thumbs up (it says אהבתי next to it in Hebrew).  It will turn gray after you've done it, indicating that you can't vote again.  If you're on a mobile phone, give it a few extra moments to load. 

Share this with your friends!  Please, do everything you can to get him to the top!  I don't know anyone in this world who deserves to win more than he does.  True story.  Thanks!!!

Pesach Aftermath

A great picture I forgot to share. When I finally made it to the grocery store a day and a half after the end of Pesach, look at how bare the pasta section was. Everyone was ready for their carbs again, lol.

Shavuah tov and good week from the Holy Land!

Pesach - Feasting to Our Freedom

This is, oddly enough, the first Pesach that I think I have GAINED weight.  Normally for me, Pesach is like the Jewish Atkins diet with no carbs, and sadly enough in America, not a lot of meat since Arkansas was/is lacking in the Kosher foods department.  Remember - we don't eat anything with any sort of leavening agent in it during Pesach, such as bread, cakes, cookies, crackers, and for those of us who are of Eastern European decent, this also includes rice and beans.  This year was COMPLETELY different.  I have not been that continually stuffed in my entire life, even when I lived in Italy, and that friends, is saying a lot. 

I left you guys at the pre-Pesach preparations, so let's pick up at the festive first night Seder.  I spent all the major milestones of this holiday with my Moroccan sister, Anat, and her family who have graciously adopted me.  It was so cool to sit at a table and participate in the Seder and for once understand A LOT of what was going on in Hebrew (and being just as confused as the native Israelis about what was going on in Aramaic).  It was also cool to hear how some of the prayers are said the same as in my family and how some are said differently, as communities and families everywhere have different rhythms and versions they use.  Oy vey, and the food.  There is nothing that can describe a Moroccan table of food other than full and delicious.

Here's me and my Moroccan sister at the beautiful Seder table.  Can't you tell we're related?!

Here's a progression of this really cool tradition that a lot of Moroccan families do where they take the Seder plate and pass it over everyone's head as a form of a blessing.  Everyone got a good bop on the head at the end, although I'm not sure that is part of the blessing.  ;)

 

I had to basically be rolled out of the door after this meal...and after each meal I went to with this huge, fun, loud family.  I finished eating lunch the next day around 3PM and couldn't comfortably put another piece of food in my mouth until 12PM the next day.  True story.  Here's evidence of how much we ate at lunch:

 

Guys, that's only a small portion of the dishes used.

 

The next few days were a mixture of rest and work, as I continue on my training and intensive Hebrew lessons at my new job.  I babysat Merv's dogs and stayed at her house with Pepper for a large portion of the week.  She's such a doll that she cooked for me before she left on vacation, but I also tried my hand at this Passover cooking.  And here is one of the badass results:

 

Made from scratch mazta ball soup - can't say it's as good as a Jewish bubbe would make, but I'm working on it.

 

I also got to discover the magic of there being lots to eat that is Kosher for Passover and that is NOT boring.  I ate chocolate brownies, I ate potato bread, and I even knoshed on pizza.  It's a different, cool, kosher, and Jewish world here, my friends.

 

PIZZA - that I didn't have room to enjoy but that I ate anyway because I had to try it.

 

I realize that I'm mainly writing about food, but I have a feeling not a lot of you will complain.  It was a delicious Pesach!  Another cool thing about the holiday here in Israel is that it is one less day than outside of Israel, so before I knew it, we were close to the end.  I really didn't miss bread so much this year (although the no-carb grumpies did get ahold of me a couple of times towards the end).  My adopted family invited me to lunch just hours before the holiday would end that night, and yet again, I ate until I wanted to explode.  It was a BBQ, and I just couldn't stop eating fresh, grilled meat.  I also learned that goose is my new favorite delicacy.  Also, I'm not cut out to be Moroccan because I had to excuse myself to take a nap on the couch because I was SO FULL. 

 

The table before the meat.  It isn't a proper table without a ton of salads.  So yummy.

 

The last of the Pesach tale ends in another strictly Moroccan tradition which is so cool.  It's a dessert meal called Mimuna, and let me tell you, it's the best way to break the Pesach fast.  We came into Anat's parents' house full of people and food and laughing and music.  We were promptly handed hot tea and mufletta (this pancake covered in honey), and we were instructed to eat and eat and eat.  People get so excited about Mimuna, and I understand why.  I was surrounded by my best friends, my adopted family, and all the sweets and treats my heart could desire.

 

The treats, the mufletta, and the gang.  Who could ask for more?

 

And there you have it.  My first Pesach in Israel as an Israeli...and a couple kilos heavier.  This year, close to Jerusalem.  Next year in Jerusalem?  Or Be'er Sheva.  I love it here.