It is midday. Everyone is scrambling from one stand to the next. Most women trail behind them metal wheely carts in which to deposit their purchased items. Bargaining is the game. These strawberries? How much? The freshest and the best is what everyone is searching for in this madness called the shook on these bustling Friday afternoons. Eggs, challah bread, cheese, vegetables are all being sold. All of it must be the very best to serve your family. You can always tell where to go…the stands with the most Israeli’s and the least amount of food left. Fresh white cheeses stacked on top of each other, olives floating in bins full of juicy olives of every color, the fresh vegetables plucked from the surrounding fields; bright purple eggplants, sun yellow, melony orange and forest green peppers all thrown in cardboard boxes displayed for all the customers to see. Today is Shabbat. Shabbat Shalom. My favorite day of the week. Around 3, the magic of Israel happens. The whole country, simultaneously, slows down. Stores begin to close, people cram on their last bus home, soldiers are in transport from their base to see their family. Slowly the silence sets in. The sun sets and everyone is home. After the five stars are visible in the sky, everything stops. Shabbat begins.
I am lucky enough to spend my Shabbat with Reut’s family- who have become my family here in Israel. They always welcome me into their home- her mother with lots of hugs and family time on the couch. We relaxed together, getting formalities of how the week went out of the way. Sitting down to dinner, Reut’s father and brother, who is 12 ½ and about to be barmitzvah-ed recited the prayers from the prayer books. We ate all the usual Shabbat salads, breads, and ended with grilled fish. Throughout dinner, Reut’s family encouraged me to practice my Hebrew, so I ended up telling her family my little stories. I felt like a 2nd grader writing a mini essay and probably sounded like one too. Sometimes it is really frustrating speaking another language. While I can usually communicate what I need, it is another thing entirely to communicate jokes, or a high level of expression. I couldn’t talk about philosophy or the current political situation, at least not to the extent I would like to participate. So, I listened and learned a slough of new words.
While letting our food settle, we tried on our dresses for her brothers’ barmitzvah in April and then got ready to go out to Tel Aviv. Picking up Ali, we proceeded to get embarrassingly lost in Tel Aviv. One thing worth noting, in Israel the road signs are completely unhelpful. Next to the pedestrian crossings and tiny- it is impossible to read them while driving. Trying to find parking was interesting in and of itself. Never ever try to find parking in Tel Aviv on the weekend. Throughout this driving disaster, we began talking about Israeli politics and the Israeli view of outsiders, specifically of non-Jews. My friend says to me, “When people ask you if you are Jewish, it’s because they want to know if they can trust you. So immediately I question her; “wait, when people ask me if I am Jewish and I say no, they automatically trust me less?” she answers, “well, yes. It sounds bad but that’s how it is.”” Rather off put by that comment, I have to admit, it is what I expected. Kind of unfortunate I am viewed that way. I suppose I understand the mentality. Most people are surprised I am here doing what I’m doing, and are even more intrigued when they find out I’m not Jewish. An anomaly here, I love what I love and that’s it. Generally speaking, the underlying feeling here is that if you aren’t Jewish, you cannot truly understand the draw that brings Jews to Israel. You cannot possibly comprehend the feeling of safety, security and draw to the homeland that people feel when they choose to be here. I obviously am not Jewish and while I may not understand because of my religious upbringing, I like to think I empathize.
Back to my story; we got lost near the beach and got out to ask for directions. Thank god my Hebrew is improving! I end up getting directions, but, by this time Reut is skeptical about being able to get there so she invites these two random guys to get in the car and direct us there since they were heading in that direction. Kind of sketchy if you ask me. Thank god there were normal. We ended up at Hemmingway’s, a great bar in central Tel Aviv. There we salsa danced a bit and ended up finding our own little niche in the club. I love to dance and often times end up in my own world. It is by far one of my favorite things to do in life. I got bored around 2am so we ended up barhopping, walking in heels to 3 different bars. I met up with some friends, but not before purchasing my favorite late night food, salted peanuts. We all went to this random Russian bar, where I met the bar owner and Ali became the bartender for a while...
No comments:
Post a Comment