People are talking about war. Just today when I went to the laundry,
a man wearing a kippah stopped me on the street. He asked me something
in Hebrew and I said, "English." He switched to English and asked me
where I was from and wanted to start a conversation. I wanted a
conversation, too. Unfortunately, his English was very bad and I could
only understand a word or two of what he was saying.
He seemed to
be proselytizing about Hebron being the burial place of our fathers. He
also seemed to be talking about war, but I couldn't make the connection
between war and a burial place. So I excused myself and continued on
with the chore of taking laundry to the laundromat lady.
And it is
a chore. It is a very long walk, which I enjoy. But the suitcase I'm
dragging full of dirty clothes is heavy. Hot weather makes the suitcase
even heavier. When I get home, I have to pull the suitcase full of
clean clothes up three flights of stairs. Once in the apartment, all I
can do is lay listlessly on the floor for about an hour.
I've read
that people are readying bomb shelters, and maybe that's true, although
I have no idea how one readies a bomb shelter. I took a walk the other
evening and saw that in a nearby apartment building the lights were on
in the basement which I presumed to be the bomb shelter. As far as the
bomb shelter goes in our building, it is locked and the entrance is
blocked by scrap wood and furniture. The old couple in Unit 4 safeguard
the key.
In response to a potential threat from Syria, the
article also stated that gas mask sales are going through the roof.
Even though the other day I saw a man carrying half a dozen boxes of gas
masks; I doubt the veracity of the report. Israeli citizens don't have
to purchase a gas mask, they can pick one up for free at the post
office. So why would anyone buy a gas mask they can pick up for free?
Another
time, I saw a man bring home a grocery cart full of bottled water. It
took me a few moment to process that he was probably stocking up on
water...just in case. Not a bad idea. David and I talk about stocking
up on food and water, but haven't done so, although I am keeping a large
toilet paper supply handy...just in case.
For most Israelis,
impending doom is business as usual, and they are cavalier about the
whole thing. The guy who owns the shwarma place where we go for lunch
all the time was talking about war.
"It's going to start after the New
Year," he said as casually as talking about the start of football season.
"Israel is going to attack Iran?"
He seemed absolutely certain it will happen, and didn't have too many concerns about it.
"What if the United States, doesn't want or can't help Israel?"
"We can do this without the US."
"What if Russia and China get involved?"
"They
won't, they have their own problems. Syria and Iran mean nothing to
them except to buy their weapons, so they welcome war."
Then he stared at me, "But you, you've never been through this before. You should go back to America for a month or two."
I
know an Israeli woman who invites me over for coffee every once in
awhile. She is very old and shriveled and has completely lost her
boobs. Just by looking at her, you can tell she is very tough and
strong. She smokes like a chimney, but seems to be in good health, and
climbs about 100 steps back and forth to her apartment every day.
She
was born in Palestine before Israel became a nation. She helped build
Israel and speaks Arabic, Hebrew, German, Yiddish, English and a teensy
bit of French. I actually may speak more French than she does, but
that's not saying much.
Her husband was in the Israeli navy and
died about 20 years ago. He was in a shipwreck in the Bermuda
triangle. I couldn't exactly understand what he was doing in Bermuda
rather than the Mediterranean; but according to the woman a huge storm
literally tore the ship in half.
I asked her about upcoming war.
She sized me up as a spoiled American who has never seen adversity. In
response to my question, she shrugged.
What could she say? You live in Israel, this is what it is.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Haircut Israeii Style
Before leaving for Israel, David got his hair cut really, really
short. Seven months later he needed another one. Well, he needed one
earlier than than, but he keeps thinking he's going to let it grow and
wear it in a pony tail in back. However, he's been getting calls for
job interviews and most employers don't go for men wearing pony tails,
so he decided it was time.
I'm glad, because his hair was at the point where it was too short for a pony tail and so long he was looking kind of like a clown especially when he put on his baseball cap. His hair would bush out at the sides. What's so unfair, is he has great hair. Very little grey, no baldness, and his hair is thick, black and naturally wavy. My hair is thin and limp and if I stopped dying it -- white as snow.
We're still learning the language, and it will take years to become conversational. Although, I'm kind of conversational if people will talk really, really slow. But they don't. Lately, I've been pretending like I speak Hebrew, which doesn't work so well, because I understand very little and end up looking at whoever is speaking to me with my mouth gaping open and a dazed expression. At which time they immediately guess I speak English, not Russian, but English.
Well, anyway, there's this shwarma place that David and I visit about once a week. Shwarma is this wonderful food that I love and David thinks is so-so. But red meat is expensive here and you have to get it from a butcher and our Hebrew just isn't there yet. So the only meat available is when we go out either to a real restaurant which runs around 200 shekels or the shwarma place which costs 60 shekels. Normally shwarma is served with pita bread, but neither of us eats pita, so we get it on a plate. Shwarma is shaved lamb that has been roasting on a vertical spit, and it comes with hummus and a variety of other vegetables including fried eggplant. Yum!
We frequent a shwarma place walking distance from our apartment. The owner has a brother who lives in Miami, and lived in the US himself for many years. He missed Israel too much and came home, but he speaks English very well. He is very friendly, and every time I come he claims he can tell I'm learning more Hebrew and speaking better.
Well, David asked the shwarma guy where to go for a haircut. The shwarma guy pointed and said, "Across the street, down the stairs, and on the left is a barber shop. They're very good. They speak English."
The next day David got up and trekked out for his haircut. Now you must understand, it was a very hot and humid day. He was back within half an hour, drenched with sweat, angry and his hair was still attached. "What is it Israeli's can't do?" he hollered at me.
Me cowering, "I don't know."
"You know! We learned this the first day we were here."
Me cowering, "I don't know."
"You know!"
Me no longer cowering. "I don't know, just tell me."
"Israeli's can't give directions worth a damn."
"Well, did you go down the stairs?"
"Down the stairs? He didn't say anything about down the stairs."
"Yes he did."
So later, in the afternoon, we set out together in search of the barbershop. David was correct, even going downstairs, there was no hair cutting place. The only other place we knew to go was a salon in the mall that would be rather expensive. We walked in the baking sun to the Grand Canyon Mall. Some of the prices on the salon services went up to 1700 shekels. In American dollars that would be $420. Yikes. Fortunately, a simple haircut for a guy was only 70 shekels or around $18.
One of the guys took David in the back and washed his hair then I watched while he got sheared. On our way home David said, "You know how in the United States when they wash your hair it smells really good? The shampoo they used here smelt like Clorox or something."
Remembering the Israeli brand hair dye I purchased that had a terrible smell, I asked, "Ammonia? Did it smell like ammonia?"
"Yeah, ammonia. Can you believe it, they put ammonia in the shampoo here. That must be to kill some kind of fungus or something."
I'm glad, because his hair was at the point where it was too short for a pony tail and so long he was looking kind of like a clown especially when he put on his baseball cap. His hair would bush out at the sides. What's so unfair, is he has great hair. Very little grey, no baldness, and his hair is thick, black and naturally wavy. My hair is thin and limp and if I stopped dying it -- white as snow.
We're still learning the language, and it will take years to become conversational. Although, I'm kind of conversational if people will talk really, really slow. But they don't. Lately, I've been pretending like I speak Hebrew, which doesn't work so well, because I understand very little and end up looking at whoever is speaking to me with my mouth gaping open and a dazed expression. At which time they immediately guess I speak English, not Russian, but English.
Well, anyway, there's this shwarma place that David and I visit about once a week. Shwarma is this wonderful food that I love and David thinks is so-so. But red meat is expensive here and you have to get it from a butcher and our Hebrew just isn't there yet. So the only meat available is when we go out either to a real restaurant which runs around 200 shekels or the shwarma place which costs 60 shekels. Normally shwarma is served with pita bread, but neither of us eats pita, so we get it on a plate. Shwarma is shaved lamb that has been roasting on a vertical spit, and it comes with hummus and a variety of other vegetables including fried eggplant. Yum!
We frequent a shwarma place walking distance from our apartment. The owner has a brother who lives in Miami, and lived in the US himself for many years. He missed Israel too much and came home, but he speaks English very well. He is very friendly, and every time I come he claims he can tell I'm learning more Hebrew and speaking better.
Well, David asked the shwarma guy where to go for a haircut. The shwarma guy pointed and said, "Across the street, down the stairs, and on the left is a barber shop. They're very good. They speak English."
The next day David got up and trekked out for his haircut. Now you must understand, it was a very hot and humid day. He was back within half an hour, drenched with sweat, angry and his hair was still attached. "What is it Israeli's can't do?" he hollered at me.
Me cowering, "I don't know."
"You know! We learned this the first day we were here."
Me cowering, "I don't know."
"You know!"
Me no longer cowering. "I don't know, just tell me."
"Israeli's can't give directions worth a damn."
"Well, did you go down the stairs?"
"Down the stairs? He didn't say anything about down the stairs."
"Yes he did."
So later, in the afternoon, we set out together in search of the barbershop. David was correct, even going downstairs, there was no hair cutting place. The only other place we knew to go was a salon in the mall that would be rather expensive. We walked in the baking sun to the Grand Canyon Mall. Some of the prices on the salon services went up to 1700 shekels. In American dollars that would be $420. Yikes. Fortunately, a simple haircut for a guy was only 70 shekels or around $18.
One of the guys took David in the back and washed his hair then I watched while he got sheared. On our way home David said, "You know how in the United States when they wash your hair it smells really good? The shampoo they used here smelt like Clorox or something."
Remembering the Israeli brand hair dye I purchased that had a terrible smell, I asked, "Ammonia? Did it smell like ammonia?"
"Yeah, ammonia. Can you believe it, they put ammonia in the shampoo here. That must be to kill some kind of fungus or something."
Israel on High Alert
All you who have been keeping up with the news are aware of what's
going on in Syria and the instability there. When I lived in Colorado
and was a member of the Multi-Lingual International Club, I knew a woman
named Strasia from Syria. She was a blond overweight woman who was
more interested in her friends from France than me. She tended to act
like nobility and wore really great designer clothes. You could tell
she was moneyed.
One time I asked her about Israel. I can't remember what she replied, I only remember her normally sweet demeanor changed into sheer hatred. The last I heard she was back living in Syria. Now I wonder if she is dead.
Since the bombing in Bulgaria and Syria seems to be falling apart, little things are happening. Yesterday the Israeli government tested the air raid system. The alarm went off for a minute, and the siren sounds different than the Shabbat and Memorial Day sirens which are long wails Yrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-for a whole minute-rrrrrrmmm. The air raid siren is more like a wave or echo YRrrrYRrrrYRrrrYRrrr. That's good to know.
Maybe they test sirens once a year no matter what. According to David, for many years in Chicago they tested the air raid sirens every Tuesday at noon. No on paid attention. The USSR needed to be sure and attack Chicago on a Tuesday at noon. In Atlanta they test tornado sirens on a weekly basis. Since we've been here, the first test of the air raid siren was yesterday.
Other little things are happening. Like there was no furlough for Israeli soldiers this weekend. Usually, they get to go home for Shabbat. El Al the Israeli national airline has tightened their already tight security. The guard at the grocery store is now has a holstered gun. Little differences.
Our view of the Mediterranean allows us to see northward toward Syria and Lebanon. A lot of times we hear fighter pilots overhead but can rarely see the planes. We figured out most of the planes we hear are patrolling the gas reserves under the sea belonging to Israel and Cyprus. Today I saw a low flying plane heading north, as in north toward Syria. Probably just doing reconnaissance...right?
Thursday in Israel is equivalent to Friday in the US. Thursday is go out and party night, kids walk around the street at midnight laughing and talking loud. They can do that in Israel because they don't need curfew laws here, because the kids aren't causing a lot of problems and it is safe for kids to be out at night as there is relatively little crime here. You do have to lock your doors, but only for theft. Rape and murder are very rare. So anyway, Thursday nights and Friday mornings are generally quite loud. Last night and this morning, Haifa was subdued. Even our Russian girl upstairs who likes to blast American Heavy Metal or as David calls it devil music has been unusually quiet.
We can't listen to Hebrew news, but there has been nothing in the English edition of the Jerusalem Post and other English news outlets about a potential attack: at least nothing different than the norm. It's just a sense.
At any rate David told me to be aware, Israel is officially in a heightened state of alert. What he did was make me really scared. Obviously, I knew something like this could happen even before moving to Israel. It's one thing to understand something in the abstract and another to experience it first hand. David said whatever Syria/Lebanon -- possibly spurred on by Hezbollah -- does to Israel, they're going to get it worse. Small comfort.
One time I asked her about Israel. I can't remember what she replied, I only remember her normally sweet demeanor changed into sheer hatred. The last I heard she was back living in Syria. Now I wonder if she is dead.
Since the bombing in Bulgaria and Syria seems to be falling apart, little things are happening. Yesterday the Israeli government tested the air raid system. The alarm went off for a minute, and the siren sounds different than the Shabbat and Memorial Day sirens which are long wails Yrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-for a whole minute-rrrrrrmmm. The air raid siren is more like a wave or echo YRrrrYRrrrYRrrrYRrrr. That's good to know.
Maybe they test sirens once a year no matter what. According to David, for many years in Chicago they tested the air raid sirens every Tuesday at noon. No on paid attention. The USSR needed to be sure and attack Chicago on a Tuesday at noon. In Atlanta they test tornado sirens on a weekly basis. Since we've been here, the first test of the air raid siren was yesterday.
Other little things are happening. Like there was no furlough for Israeli soldiers this weekend. Usually, they get to go home for Shabbat. El Al the Israeli national airline has tightened their already tight security. The guard at the grocery store is now has a holstered gun. Little differences.
Our view of the Mediterranean allows us to see northward toward Syria and Lebanon. A lot of times we hear fighter pilots overhead but can rarely see the planes. We figured out most of the planes we hear are patrolling the gas reserves under the sea belonging to Israel and Cyprus. Today I saw a low flying plane heading north, as in north toward Syria. Probably just doing reconnaissance...right?
Thursday in Israel is equivalent to Friday in the US. Thursday is go out and party night, kids walk around the street at midnight laughing and talking loud. They can do that in Israel because they don't need curfew laws here, because the kids aren't causing a lot of problems and it is safe for kids to be out at night as there is relatively little crime here. You do have to lock your doors, but only for theft. Rape and murder are very rare. So anyway, Thursday nights and Friday mornings are generally quite loud. Last night and this morning, Haifa was subdued. Even our Russian girl upstairs who likes to blast American Heavy Metal or as David calls it devil music has been unusually quiet.
We can't listen to Hebrew news, but there has been nothing in the English edition of the Jerusalem Post and other English news outlets about a potential attack: at least nothing different than the norm. It's just a sense.
At any rate David told me to be aware, Israel is officially in a heightened state of alert. What he did was make me really scared. Obviously, I knew something like this could happen even before moving to Israel. It's one thing to understand something in the abstract and another to experience it first hand. David said whatever Syria/Lebanon -- possibly spurred on by Hezbollah -- does to Israel, they're going to get it worse. Small comfort.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Things in Israel not in the US
In Israel many things are very similar to the US, but there are also many differences. Some of the differences can be startling and some are just really hard to figure out.
Milk in bags.
Although you can purchase milk in a carton, you can also buy milk in bags. Since I discussed that in another blog, I won't go in detail here.
Unisex bathrooms.
I know I have a bathroom thing. But usually the only places in the US where men and women share a public toilet is in dirty, filthy gas stations, concerts with porta-potties and really small restaurants in old buildings. Right? Where else do women have to go where men go? In Israel, the malls, train and bus stations have sexes peeing separately, but everywhere else it's pretty much share and share alike. That being the case, I've never seen a urinal here, David says he hasn't seen one either.
While we're on the subject: Children peeing openly in parks and on the sidewalk.
Here's what I've seen in the US, little kids who have to use the bathroom and the mother is saying, "hold it, hold it," and the child is literally dancing around holding it. They teach their children to use toilets and children learn how to plan accordingly. In Israel parents just let their kids pee on the sidewalk in public and no one seems to care. I've even seen grown men opting to use a tree than to be an adult and find a toilet. We're not in the woods here, we're in civilization. I don't get it.
Post Office.
In the US you go to the post office to buy stamps and send packages. Some may have a PO box where they collect mail. In Israel the post office is so much more. You go to the post office to buy stamps and send out packages -- sure -- but you also go to the post office to obtain your gas mask
and even pay your bills. The post office even serves as a bank and you can purchase US dollar or Euro pre-paid cards...sometimes you can even get the mail. Mail delivery is erratic and seems to come once or twice a week.
Sheets
The reason I know about sheets is because I have to keep buying them for the massage business. Since we don't have a washing machine that works properly, we have to send out the laundry which takes about a week to get back. They don't have laundromats here, they have people who do laundry for you and charge about 10 shekels a gram. We average about 100 shekels a week in laundry. The massage sheets are only a small portion of that.
The sheets in Israel are weird. The lower fitted sheet is what you would find in the US except really poorly made and paying about the same price. The cover sheet is a double thickness. It's almost like a big pillow case, except without the opening at one end. There is a small opening, but not big enough to crawl in between the sheets. What's more, there's these small plastic buttons or snaps at one end of the sheet. I can't figure out what those are for. I thought maybe it was to attach to the fitted sheet, but that sheet has no snaps or button holes.
Since Zach solved the mystery of the milk bags, maybe he will be able to explain about the sheets.
Milk in bags.
Although you can purchase milk in a carton, you can also buy milk in bags. Since I discussed that in another blog, I won't go in detail here.
Unisex bathrooms.
I know I have a bathroom thing. But usually the only places in the US where men and women share a public toilet is in dirty, filthy gas stations, concerts with porta-potties and really small restaurants in old buildings. Right? Where else do women have to go where men go? In Israel, the malls, train and bus stations have sexes peeing separately, but everywhere else it's pretty much share and share alike. That being the case, I've never seen a urinal here, David says he hasn't seen one either.
While we're on the subject: Children peeing openly in parks and on the sidewalk.
Here's what I've seen in the US, little kids who have to use the bathroom and the mother is saying, "hold it, hold it," and the child is literally dancing around holding it. They teach their children to use toilets and children learn how to plan accordingly. In Israel parents just let their kids pee on the sidewalk in public and no one seems to care. I've even seen grown men opting to use a tree than to be an adult and find a toilet. We're not in the woods here, we're in civilization. I don't get it.
Post Office.
In the US you go to the post office to buy stamps and send packages. Some may have a PO box where they collect mail. In Israel the post office is so much more. You go to the post office to buy stamps and send out packages -- sure -- but you also go to the post office to obtain your gas mask
and even pay your bills. The post office even serves as a bank and you can purchase US dollar or Euro pre-paid cards...sometimes you can even get the mail. Mail delivery is erratic and seems to come once or twice a week.
Sheets
The reason I know about sheets is because I have to keep buying them for the massage business. Since we don't have a washing machine that works properly, we have to send out the laundry which takes about a week to get back. They don't have laundromats here, they have people who do laundry for you and charge about 10 shekels a gram. We average about 100 shekels a week in laundry. The massage sheets are only a small portion of that.
The sheets in Israel are weird. The lower fitted sheet is what you would find in the US except really poorly made and paying about the same price. The cover sheet is a double thickness. It's almost like a big pillow case, except without the opening at one end. There is a small opening, but not big enough to crawl in between the sheets. What's more, there's these small plastic buttons or snaps at one end of the sheet. I can't figure out what those are for. I thought maybe it was to attach to the fitted sheet, but that sheet has no snaps or button holes.
Since Zach solved the mystery of the milk bags, maybe he will be able to explain about the sheets.
Zona comes pretty close to my name
I learned a new Hebrew word today: shar-mu-tah.
Currently, and by currently I mean now and forever because work gets done very slowly here, there is some kind of road work going on the street where we live. They are digging a trench and the mountain is mostly rock so they have a jack-hammer going practically all day. It's very loud and you can barely think. The noise starts at 7am, stops for about 30 minutes around noon and continues until 4pm.
I can't have any massage clients over until after 4 when the noise stops. It's just awful.
One of the workers out there called me about a massage, and I set up a time and he came over looked around, said he would call later and left. He's the guy we thought at the time was looking for the other kind of massage.
Well, someone keeps calling -- I can't tell if it's the same person or not -- and my Hebrew is so bad, I can't understand what the caller is saying. I catch ee-su-ee which means massage, and then I am learning to take control of the call by asking in Hebrew do you want a massage yes or no?
When?
What time?
I can do that, but if they start talking and asking questions, I really don't know what they're saying.
So some guy with a private number called and we're making an appointment and he asks something about sha-ma??? It sounded to me like shaman and I wondered if that was a borrowed word that has been included in Hebrew like it has been in English. Well, I want to be a shaman, which would be so cool, but I think I answered in Hebrew, I don't know. Or, I'm not sure, I might have said yes, but I'm pretty sure I said I don't know. Because he wanted to come tomorrow at 10 and David has an interview at the same time and strangers -- especially men -- are not coming into this house unless David is around, we could not set a time and he said he would call later. We were still uncertain if he wanted a real massage or the other kind.
Well, there's a couple of young girls who live upstairs and sometimes they play their music really loud. If there's no pounding outside, there's the pounding of the bass from the music they're listening to. It is so loud it vibrates the floor beneath us and the music is coming from upstairs. Sometimes this goes on for hours even after the Sabbath horn has sounded and sometimes it starts early in the morning. Maybe it was out of anger, but I truly was kidding around with David and said if that guy calls back, I can tell him in Hebrew the whores live upstairs.
I looked up the word for whore in my Hebrew/English dictionary and immediately realized that guy wasn't asking if I was a shaman, he was asking if I was a shar-mu-tah, i.e. whore. Oh no! And I either answered: Yes or I don't know. Either way, it is not good that those guys who are doing road/sewer work right in front of our apartment think I'm a whore.
Oy!
I'm sure this guy is going to call back. I'm going to say: Ah-nee LO shar-mu-tah! And I'm practicing how to say: Shame on you in Hebrew. (Heet-bah-yesh-leh-hkah!) And bad man, very bad man. (Eesh rah, eesh rah may-ode, rah may-ode!).
Hopefully that will end it.
Oh, and there's another word for whore and that is "zona," which is pretty close to my name which was on the signs. Boy oh boy oh boy.
Currently, and by currently I mean now and forever because work gets done very slowly here, there is some kind of road work going on the street where we live. They are digging a trench and the mountain is mostly rock so they have a jack-hammer going practically all day. It's very loud and you can barely think. The noise starts at 7am, stops for about 30 minutes around noon and continues until 4pm.
I can't have any massage clients over until after 4 when the noise stops. It's just awful.
One of the workers out there called me about a massage, and I set up a time and he came over looked around, said he would call later and left. He's the guy we thought at the time was looking for the other kind of massage.
Well, someone keeps calling -- I can't tell if it's the same person or not -- and my Hebrew is so bad, I can't understand what the caller is saying. I catch ee-su-ee which means massage, and then I am learning to take control of the call by asking in Hebrew do you want a massage yes or no?
When?
What time?
I can do that, but if they start talking and asking questions, I really don't know what they're saying.
So some guy with a private number called and we're making an appointment and he asks something about sha-ma??? It sounded to me like shaman and I wondered if that was a borrowed word that has been included in Hebrew like it has been in English. Well, I want to be a shaman, which would be so cool, but I think I answered in Hebrew, I don't know. Or, I'm not sure, I might have said yes, but I'm pretty sure I said I don't know. Because he wanted to come tomorrow at 10 and David has an interview at the same time and strangers -- especially men -- are not coming into this house unless David is around, we could not set a time and he said he would call later. We were still uncertain if he wanted a real massage or the other kind.
Well, there's a couple of young girls who live upstairs and sometimes they play their music really loud. If there's no pounding outside, there's the pounding of the bass from the music they're listening to. It is so loud it vibrates the floor beneath us and the music is coming from upstairs. Sometimes this goes on for hours even after the Sabbath horn has sounded and sometimes it starts early in the morning. Maybe it was out of anger, but I truly was kidding around with David and said if that guy calls back, I can tell him in Hebrew the whores live upstairs.
I looked up the word for whore in my Hebrew/English dictionary and immediately realized that guy wasn't asking if I was a shaman, he was asking if I was a shar-mu-tah, i.e. whore. Oh no! And I either answered: Yes or I don't know. Either way, it is not good that those guys who are doing road/sewer work right in front of our apartment think I'm a whore.
Oy!
I'm sure this guy is going to call back. I'm going to say: Ah-nee LO shar-mu-tah! And I'm practicing how to say: Shame on you in Hebrew. (Heet-bah-yesh-leh-hkah!) And bad man, very bad man. (Eesh rah, eesh rah may-ode, rah may-ode!).
Hopefully that will end it.
Oh, and there's another word for whore and that is "zona," which is pretty close to my name which was on the signs. Boy oh boy oh boy.
Massage Therapist in Haifa
When I was in the United States, I studied massage and reflexology at
the Colorado School of Reflexology in Denver, and at Harbin in
California. Although I had the training, I never worked professionally
as a massage therapist because I wanted to do something more important
with my life, but it looks like that's never going to happen. Moving in
Israel and not speaking the language, doing massage therapy would be a
perfect way to make an income especially until David found a job.
Also, since I'm older now, and my youthful beauty has been replaced by a big fat stomach the likelihood of getting hired for a "real" job is greatly diminished.
We chose a two bedroom/1 bath apartment, which in Israel is called a three room apartment. The three rooms are the living room and two bedrooms: the kitchen and bathroom are assumed. The building is on what deceitfully appears to be a quiet street. It is quiet in the evenings -- after say midnight -- and all day on Shabbat. The rest of the time it is pretty noisy with cars, buses and people. What's weird is the street really isn't that busy, but it is still loud here nonetheless.
We wanted a place with an extra bedroom is so I can do massage. It is a good room for massage in being away from the street and having a tremendous view of the Mediterranean Sea and the Haifa port.
Purchasing a massage table was another story. One woman wanted to sell me a table she used for facials. It was a fine table but not a real massage table, and I wisely decided to keep looking and found a massage table dealer in Tel Aviv. He made it sound like he had a warehouse full of massage tables and we schlepped to Tel Aviv to purchase to look at it. His warehouse was a small one-room apartment with about five boxes of new tables. He demonstrated the table and promised it was sturdy and came with a year guarantee. The table was made in China so I had my doubts, but we couldn't find a table anywhere else so we bought it. I've done enough massages to pay for the damn thing and now am in the process of buying sheets and sheets and sheets just in case I actually get busy. Unfortunately, it creaks and squeaks and gives me concerns about breaking and I really doubt the table has a warranty.
What's more, the dealer said the table was very light-weight and transportable. He carried it for me to the bus stop, and then it was my turn. What was he talking about? That thing weighs a ton. I almost fell over getting on and off the train with that thing. Anyway, it's home now and business is coming in dribs and drabs.
The good thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean. The bad thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean all the time. Let's face it, I'm not busy enough to schedule clients at my convenience so I have to give massages at their convenience. In Israel it is a habit to call and want to show up in the next hour or so. If the place is dirty, David and I have to scramble to get the room ready and the place presentable. I have this toilet thing and won't do bathrooms. Ick. So that's David's job.
Well anyway David's nephew, Zack, called and wanted to know what we were doing, we knew that meant he was coming for a few days. David asked me if I wanted him, and I said okay and a couple of hours later Zack arrived. In spite of Zack's good upbringing, he has turned Orthodox. That being the case, he can't eat our food or even use our kitchen supplies. Actually, this is good because I don't have to cook for him. We have a couch that folds out into a bed, and we were somewhat set for company.
In repayment for our hospitality Zack made a massage flyer for me to post at different areas in town. I did, and received two phone calls. When it comes to advertising, there's one little problem. I don't speak Hebrew well enough to understand what someone is saying. The first call was blown. The second call, however, was from a guy who spoke broken English. With my broken Hebrew and his English we managed to make an appointment. It was one of those things where he would be there in an hour.
We hadn't really cleaned the place up since Zack left and scurried to make the place presentable and the client was here before I could put sheets on the massage table. He looked around and said he would call again in an hour and seemed more curious about the bedroom than the massage room.
Uh-oh. It's a good thing David was home and he said, "That guy wasn't interested in a therapeutic massage, he wanted the other kind."
Oh boy, I'm a whore now. Well, not really but apparently some people who are reading my sign think so.
Also, since I'm older now, and my youthful beauty has been replaced by a big fat stomach the likelihood of getting hired for a "real" job is greatly diminished.
We chose a two bedroom/1 bath apartment, which in Israel is called a three room apartment. The three rooms are the living room and two bedrooms: the kitchen and bathroom are assumed. The building is on what deceitfully appears to be a quiet street. It is quiet in the evenings -- after say midnight -- and all day on Shabbat. The rest of the time it is pretty noisy with cars, buses and people. What's weird is the street really isn't that busy, but it is still loud here nonetheless.
We wanted a place with an extra bedroom is so I can do massage. It is a good room for massage in being away from the street and having a tremendous view of the Mediterranean Sea and the Haifa port.
Purchasing a massage table was another story. One woman wanted to sell me a table she used for facials. It was a fine table but not a real massage table, and I wisely decided to keep looking and found a massage table dealer in Tel Aviv. He made it sound like he had a warehouse full of massage tables and we schlepped to Tel Aviv to purchase to look at it. His warehouse was a small one-room apartment with about five boxes of new tables. He demonstrated the table and promised it was sturdy and came with a year guarantee. The table was made in China so I had my doubts, but we couldn't find a table anywhere else so we bought it. I've done enough massages to pay for the damn thing and now am in the process of buying sheets and sheets and sheets just in case I actually get busy. Unfortunately, it creaks and squeaks and gives me concerns about breaking and I really doubt the table has a warranty.
What's more, the dealer said the table was very light-weight and transportable. He carried it for me to the bus stop, and then it was my turn. What was he talking about? That thing weighs a ton. I almost fell over getting on and off the train with that thing. Anyway, it's home now and business is coming in dribs and drabs.
The good thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean. The bad thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean all the time. Let's face it, I'm not busy enough to schedule clients at my convenience so I have to give massages at their convenience. In Israel it is a habit to call and want to show up in the next hour or so. If the place is dirty, David and I have to scramble to get the room ready and the place presentable. I have this toilet thing and won't do bathrooms. Ick. So that's David's job.
Well anyway David's nephew, Zack, called and wanted to know what we were doing, we knew that meant he was coming for a few days. David asked me if I wanted him, and I said okay and a couple of hours later Zack arrived. In spite of Zack's good upbringing, he has turned Orthodox. That being the case, he can't eat our food or even use our kitchen supplies. Actually, this is good because I don't have to cook for him. We have a couch that folds out into a bed, and we were somewhat set for company.
In repayment for our hospitality Zack made a massage flyer for me to post at different areas in town. I did, and received two phone calls. When it comes to advertising, there's one little problem. I don't speak Hebrew well enough to understand what someone is saying. The first call was blown. The second call, however, was from a guy who spoke broken English. With my broken Hebrew and his English we managed to make an appointment. It was one of those things where he would be there in an hour.
We hadn't really cleaned the place up since Zack left and scurried to make the place presentable and the client was here before I could put sheets on the massage table. He looked around and said he would call again in an hour and seemed more curious about the bedroom than the massage room.
Uh-oh. It's a good thing David was home and he said, "That guy wasn't interested in a therapeutic massage, he wanted the other kind."
Oh boy, I'm a whore now. Well, not really but apparently some people who are reading my sign think so.
Synagogue Intrique
There are two reform synagogues in Haifa, the one we occasionally go
to, and the one we never, ever go to. The reason we never, ever go to
the other synagogue is because we don't have a car and the buses don't
run on Friday night and we would never find our way home. Besides, the
one we go to has enough intrigue to keep us entertained for years to
come.
Did that sound sacrilegious?
If you are above gossip, you do not need to read any further, but if you are interested in rabbis going down in flames read on. I exaggerate.
First, everything I am telling you is second-hand information from three different sources. So take the story with a grain of salt. Here goes.
The rabbi has been at the shul for many years maybe 10, maybe even 20 years and he has never taken a vacation. He made aliyah in his early twenties and is an American citizen. As an American citizen it has been easy for him to make many shnoring visits to the USA to beg for money from supporting synagogues. When we first started going there, almost every Friday night there would be an American contingent visiting from one of the sponsoring synagogues. I have noticed that recently American groups are not showing up, and now understand why.
Follow the money.
Right after the Second Lebanon War nearly 6 years ago, US money came pouring in. Pouring in to the tune of millions, yes millions. During that time, the synagogue spent money like there was no tomorrow and did not plan for the lean years. They elected a board president who had a contract for a salary of around $100,000 a year for five years whether he worked the full tern or not. He may or may not have been dipping into the till, but he really let the synagogue down and they somehow managed to get rid of him. During this time the US economy busted and the money stopped flowing.
Because of the president's questionable activities, and the lack of money since they spent the millions like a game-show shopping spree, the board took a long hard look at the books. It turns out the rabbi bought himself a car using synagogue funds. There was nothing wrong with that, his contract allowed him to purchase a car, but he took the money from the wrong fund aka misappropriation of funds, and -- according to many on the board -- he bought himself too nice of a car.
Too nice of a car, is relative. According to one of the sources, it's a nice car, but if the money was flowing in, the board would have wondered why the rabbi didn't buy himself a nicer car. So they decided to "fire" the rabbi. They did it in such a way so the rabbi is taking a year long sabbatical where he is being paid half his salary and at the end of the year, he can re-apply for the position. In the meantime, they have hired a temporary rabbi fresh out of rabbinic school.
But that's not really the problem. The problem seems to be a large anti-American feeling about the congregation. For instance, when the now fired rabbi was leading a service, the American flag was up front along with the Israeli flag. Seems fair, since the only reason this congregation exists is because of American money. When the rabbi is gone, the American flag is gone.
In fact, the woman whose husband paid for the building with his own funds to the tune of half a million dollars attended one evening. She spoke to the congregation and gave a brief history of all that her husband (now dead) had done for the synagogue, and basically said: get your act together or I'm not giving you another dime.
I don't know what that means exactly. Does that mean they should bring back the rabbi or simply make sure they do a better job of spending their money?
The fired rabbi has done a lot for the promotion of reform Judaism in Haifa. From his own pocket, he has helped support people in need, and is helping to bring Palestinian and Israeli children together in sporting events in order to promote peace. I like him, he's a nice guy. And he has established the relationship with the American synagogues that support the congregation.
For those of you who question -- why doesn't the congregation support itself? -- the answer is not so simple. First, unlike many of the reform synagogues in the US, the congregants are not wealthy. There's just not a lot of wealth in Haifa. Second, orthodox synagogues in Israel are supported by the state, while reform and conservative are not. This means that as an orthodox shul-goer, yearly dues are not necessary because Israeli tax dollars are paying for the synagogue. But if you happen to be reform, struggling to make financial ends meet, and you are asked to pay dues to support the synagogue, the natural inclination is to think: orthodox don't have to pay dues, why should I? That means, if there is going to be a much needed reform movement in Israel it basically has to come from American dollars. American dollars pretty much built this country anyway.
So here is this synagogue totally dependent on American money and they're throwing out the rabbi that brings it in. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.
David predicts that a year from now attendance at Friday night services will be close to zero. He believes the Americans have already gotten wind of what is going on and will send their financial support elsewhere. Part of their willingness to give was the knowledge that the rabbi was doing outreach to the Palestinians and needy in the community. Part of their willingness to give was that they were welcomed when bringing groups into Haifa. And maybe part of their willingness to give was seeing the American flag next to the Israeli flag. David predicts the American supporters will go elsewhere.
It will be interesting to see what happens.
Did that sound sacrilegious?
If you are above gossip, you do not need to read any further, but if you are interested in rabbis going down in flames read on. I exaggerate.
First, everything I am telling you is second-hand information from three different sources. So take the story with a grain of salt. Here goes.
The rabbi has been at the shul for many years maybe 10, maybe even 20 years and he has never taken a vacation. He made aliyah in his early twenties and is an American citizen. As an American citizen it has been easy for him to make many shnoring visits to the USA to beg for money from supporting synagogues. When we first started going there, almost every Friday night there would be an American contingent visiting from one of the sponsoring synagogues. I have noticed that recently American groups are not showing up, and now understand why.
Follow the money.
Right after the Second Lebanon War nearly 6 years ago, US money came pouring in. Pouring in to the tune of millions, yes millions. During that time, the synagogue spent money like there was no tomorrow and did not plan for the lean years. They elected a board president who had a contract for a salary of around $100,000 a year for five years whether he worked the full tern or not. He may or may not have been dipping into the till, but he really let the synagogue down and they somehow managed to get rid of him. During this time the US economy busted and the money stopped flowing.
Because of the president's questionable activities, and the lack of money since they spent the millions like a game-show shopping spree, the board took a long hard look at the books. It turns out the rabbi bought himself a car using synagogue funds. There was nothing wrong with that, his contract allowed him to purchase a car, but he took the money from the wrong fund aka misappropriation of funds, and -- according to many on the board -- he bought himself too nice of a car.
Too nice of a car, is relative. According to one of the sources, it's a nice car, but if the money was flowing in, the board would have wondered why the rabbi didn't buy himself a nicer car. So they decided to "fire" the rabbi. They did it in such a way so the rabbi is taking a year long sabbatical where he is being paid half his salary and at the end of the year, he can re-apply for the position. In the meantime, they have hired a temporary rabbi fresh out of rabbinic school.
But that's not really the problem. The problem seems to be a large anti-American feeling about the congregation. For instance, when the now fired rabbi was leading a service, the American flag was up front along with the Israeli flag. Seems fair, since the only reason this congregation exists is because of American money. When the rabbi is gone, the American flag is gone.
In fact, the woman whose husband paid for the building with his own funds to the tune of half a million dollars attended one evening. She spoke to the congregation and gave a brief history of all that her husband (now dead) had done for the synagogue, and basically said: get your act together or I'm not giving you another dime.
I don't know what that means exactly. Does that mean they should bring back the rabbi or simply make sure they do a better job of spending their money?
The fired rabbi has done a lot for the promotion of reform Judaism in Haifa. From his own pocket, he has helped support people in need, and is helping to bring Palestinian and Israeli children together in sporting events in order to promote peace. I like him, he's a nice guy. And he has established the relationship with the American synagogues that support the congregation.
For those of you who question -- why doesn't the congregation support itself? -- the answer is not so simple. First, unlike many of the reform synagogues in the US, the congregants are not wealthy. There's just not a lot of wealth in Haifa. Second, orthodox synagogues in Israel are supported by the state, while reform and conservative are not. This means that as an orthodox shul-goer, yearly dues are not necessary because Israeli tax dollars are paying for the synagogue. But if you happen to be reform, struggling to make financial ends meet, and you are asked to pay dues to support the synagogue, the natural inclination is to think: orthodox don't have to pay dues, why should I? That means, if there is going to be a much needed reform movement in Israel it basically has to come from American dollars. American dollars pretty much built this country anyway.
So here is this synagogue totally dependent on American money and they're throwing out the rabbi that brings it in. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.
David predicts that a year from now attendance at Friday night services will be close to zero. He believes the Americans have already gotten wind of what is going on and will send their financial support elsewhere. Part of their willingness to give was the knowledge that the rabbi was doing outreach to the Palestinians and needy in the community. Part of their willingness to give was that they were welcomed when bringing groups into Haifa. And maybe part of their willingness to give was seeing the American flag next to the Israeli flag. David predicts the American supporters will go elsewhere.
It will be interesting to see what happens.
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