Getting attuned to the radio

Living in Buchman, where I'm pretty much surrounded by Anglos, I often forget that I'm living in Israel for extended periods of time. Until...I get in my car and turn on the radio. The radio is my wake-up call that I am here. Not just because its in Hebrew, though. Its because the taste in music is just plain old bad: every Hebrew song is sad and dreary and every English song is either a really old Beatles song, or a random one-hit-wonder like "mmm bop" by the Hanson brothers. Its because the DJ, a woman with a sultry voice, never lets people finish their sentences when she interviews them on-air. Its becauise they cut off the songs at the begining and end by just a few seconds- but enough to totally ruin a listening experience. Its because the traffic reports every hour of every day don't change: the road from J-lem to Tel Aviv is ALWAYS backed up, and by the way, theres no other way to go, so why bother reporting it altogether? When I get tired of listening to the music station, I flip to the news station, hoping at least I'll improve my Hebrew and learn about the world. I unfailingly have to turn up the volume to make out what this mumbler of a reporter is saying. Ok, maybe he's not mumbling after all, I just don't understand a word he's saying, which again reminds me that I'm in Israel.

Learning the Lingo

It turns out that learning the lingo really is as hard as it seems. Yaakov and I are at an advantage having come to Israel with pretty good Hebrew, but we still have plenty to learn. It took a couple of weeks to understand what the cashiers were asking us every time we handed them a credit card, "tashlumim?" they would ask. We politely declined every time and as soon as we would leave the store we would turn to each other and ask, "whats tashlumim?" I don't know about you, but the last time I heard the word tashlumim was in Midreshet Lindenbaum, when we learned the Halachah about which prayers could be said at a later time if you missed it the first time around. Something was telling me that this was not what the Russian cashier at Supersol was referring to. Anyway, we finally learned that tashlumim means installments, because apparantly Israelis pay for absolutely everything in installments...

It was Meet the Parents Night, back in September, and one of th eparents of my class asked where I live, and I answered, and she explained that she also lives in Buchman. She proceeded to ask me what street, what building etc. Then she asked me if we were "merutzim". I didn't recognize the word, so I figured I'd use my survivial skills- quickly dissect the word, find the root and go from there. The problem was that the root of the word means want or desire. In the passive tense, which was the word she used, means "wanted or desirable". Was this lady asking me if I was wanted or desirable in my building? If my landlord liked us? How rude! In the half a second that it took me to think those thoughts, which in the end only paralyzed me, I figured I'd just be honest and say, "huh?" She explained, that merutzim means happy or content. The innocent woman just wanted to know if I was happpy in her neighborhood. Good thing I fought my initial instincts to bite her head off. That could've been really awkward...

Surprsingly I've had very few mess-ups at school in general, but this one was pretty embarassing: I was on recess duty when one of my students came to me saying she wasn't feeling well. She looked okay to me, so I told her to get a drink. Now, the word for water fountain is "beerzeyah". My intention was to direct her to the water fountain, but instead I told her to go get a drink from the duck-"barvaz". I think she's forgotten about it since, but I don't think I ever will...

I pulled up to the gas station and one of the gas girls (oh yeah, the people who work at the gas
stations are not creepy uneducated men. They're pleasant, young girls. really weird..) Anyway, she asked me if I "hidlakt"- which I interpreted as "have you lit the fire?". In a panic I said yes. Don't ask me why. I honestly had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. So I stayed there and waited for someone to fill my car with gas. She came over to me after and said, "you said that you hidlakt already!" I then learned a new word - l'heedalek-which happens to sounds an awful lot like l'hadleek, means to get gas.

In school I speak Hebrew all day, and sometimes I'll rack my brains for the right word, and then the other person will blurt it out before me- only its an English word that been Hebraisized!! Here's a couple of examples: concept, legitimacy, optmisitic...But the most confusing ones are the English words that are misused! Velcro is called "Scotch", "Tape" means a tape recorder, and Scotch tape is called "Niyar Devek". A stapler is a Shadchan, not to be confused with a matchmaker. And a marker is a Tush. It took me a couple of days to control myself from bursting into laughter everytime a kid would say "I lost my Tush". But I'm over it now. I think.

No shame

Cultural observation: Israelis have no shame asking how much you bought a certain item for. In the U.S. that is outright tactless, and could even be considered offensive. But here, its almost expected that when you get a complement on something, the price will be asked. My first observation of this phenomenon was when a co-worker of mine walked in with new boots. Everyone kept walking over to her, complementing her on her boots, and then asking, "kamah hayu?!" (how much were they?!) Because its so accepted to divulge how much you paid, its also very common to volunteer the information even before being asked. One of my co-workers booked a very last minute trip to Europe for Chanukah break. I said, it must have been expensive being that you booked so late... she said "No, it was 4,000 shekel." Okay, by now I'm getting the hang of this... its actually a little freeing.
Yesturday I went to the mall, and for the first time in 5 months, I looked for something to buy myself. Novel idea. I found a really nice pair of boots. Thats an understatement. I'm pretty picky and I have to say these boots were perfect. They were 399 shekel. I didn't hesitate to buy them, and the whole trying on and purchasing process went pretty quickly. Only after I left the store did I slow down and think: when I wear them tomorrow, and when people ask me how much I paid, should I say 399, or 400 hmmm... something to think about. Now you're all wondering what happened today in school- do you really have to ask?

Chanukah oh Chanukah

Chanukah was a lot of fun. I had off from the school the whole week. The country took on a festive feel, though there was no snow... in fact there were barely any winter coats. i took advantage of my free time to relax a bit and get some errands done. We also went on some day trips. The Modiin Ministry of Absorbtion organizes trips for olim every now and then, and we decided to go on one of them- it was to a place called Kibbutz Gezer. Though the trip ended up being nothing to write home about, my registration for the trip was quite noteworthy. The morning before the trip we called the Ministry of Absorbtion and asked if we could still join the trip. They said there was still room, but we needed to bring over a check that same day. So I headed over there, and took care of the trip registration. Before turning to leave, I asked a completely unrelated question to the clerk- whether the government would pay my tuition if I was to pursue a Teaching Degree. After all, all the rights and benefits of new olim is under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Absorbtion, so if anyone could answer my question, they could. She gave me the number of someone else (of course) who could help me (meanwhile that someone hasn't returned any of my phone calls), and she proceeded to ask me about other degrees and certificates that I have already. She explained that if I plan on pursuing another degree I may need to get my degrees and transcripts translated and notarized. I sighed (more errands, more expenses...). Obviously she sensed my frustration and said, "weren't you told that we would take care of that for you?" I said "no." She said, "you mean your liason didn't tell you that?" I said "no." and then I thought to myself- I don't want to get anyone in trouble here, I mean I actually like my liason... So I quickly corrected myself and said, "well, it could be that she told my husband, and that he didn't tell me." She then said, "what, you dont speak to your husband... your'e divorced?" Whoa!!! Where was this coming from? Of course, I took this quite personally, her implying that the level of communication between me and Yaakov was equivalent to that of a divorced couple. So I answered shortly, "no, it could just be that he forgot to tell me." Then I decided to elaborate, "you know that making aliyah is a bit overwhelming and sometimes we tell each other 99 things a day instead of 100" to which she said, "oh, so you have many children?" Again! Where is this coming from?! According to this woman, if you're overwhelmed by your aliyah, you must either be divorced or a mother of many children. You would think the Ministry of Absorbtion would hire some more sensitive individuals! As the tears started welling up in my eyes, I said, "why are you yelling at me, no I'm not divorced, and I only have one child, but there is still alot to take care of and a lot to adjust to!" The tears must have worked because she turned a bit softer and said she's here to help with whatever I need. Whatever.