It’s been so long.
I spent last weekend visiting the family friends in Nes Tziona. I almost didn’t go because I could not get my day started, and before I knew it, it was 3pm and Shabbat was nearing. I ran out to the bus stop and waited for 20 minutes along with a gruff guy who gave his crotch a good scratching about three times. Ten minutes later, he asked me for a lighter, I gave one to him, and when I took my lighter back from him, I realized my lighter, and ergo my hand, touched his crotch. I kept my hand at a safe distance until I able to wash it later on.
The bus came, but it moved slowly. Religious people were rushing in the streets, making me more antsy. I dreaded having to call and tell my family friends I missed the bus. Because I sleep till, god forbid, 10 am when I visit them, they think of me as some sort of slacker and would assume I missed the bus because I slept too late and took my time getting ready.
I got the central bus station. The place was clearing out. Sherut drivers yelled to tell me there were no more buses. I wasn’t falling for their tricks. I ran on. I ran past the security line, almost forgetting to put my bag through the scanners, and ran up and up the escalators. The station was deserted. Not one person was running for something, and I knew that’s a bad sign. I persisted. I ran to the area where the buses stand, and in the distance, I saw one lone bus. It could have been any bus going anywhere in Israel. But I still ran. I approached the bus, asked the driver if he was going to Rishon Le Tziyyon, and he said yes. Success! I beat procrastination! I think I can leave at 3:15 next time.
Despite the fast-paced start, the visit wasn’t all that exciting, but I got to watch some classic Israeli movies, as well as Back to the Future II and Big. The TV selection for movies made after 1990 is just not good here. An overwhelming number of made-for-TV Lifetime style dramas that somehow pass for American cinema rule the lot.
On the bus ride back to Jerusalem from Rehovot on Saturday night, the bus was filled with datim in full Shabbat regalia. One guy didn’t bother to turn on the overhead lamp to read his texts, but instead attached a portable book light to the edge of the book. I thought it was a great photo. No camera on me. I was soon distracted by a familiar song playing loud enough to drift towards me from the driver’s area- R.E.M’s “Losing My Religion.”
I came back to the Rishon/Rehovot area a couple of days later to vote! I wasn’t planning to vote, assuming I missed some registration deadlines, but when I found out I received a voting card and all I had to do was bring it to a nearby school, I decided to do it.
(Google.co.il on the day of the Israeli elections. Probably the American election day logo, considering the booths, with an Israeli “elections” button thrown in.)
I walked to the school with the older wife. It was a cold day out, and I was unprepared. It has been so warm here that I stopped bringing out my jacket, but the day of the elections was windy, and later on the rain poured so badly, my lights flickered and my internet went out for the night.
I voted not because I like any of the candidates, but because I wanted to experience what the process is like here. The wife and I walked into the school building, down a hallway decorated with cardboard paper shapes on the walls, per usual, and walked to the room designated by a number on our cards. She walked in first, and I waited. The room was set up with a long table with 3 or 4 people sitting there, 2 checking off names. There was a Russian guy there working the door who could tell I didn’t speak Hebrew well. When it was my turn to vote, I walked into the room and he asked me if I needed help. I said maybe. He said, in Russian, ”Do you know who you are voting for?” I said yes. He said, “Oh ok then, I thought I could help you decide if you weren’t sure yet.” Even the moment before I voted in the actual voting room, someone was trying to manipulate my vote! I walked to the other side of the classroom, and stood behind a folded presentation board posterboard (what do you call those things?) that sat atop a desk. Behind it was a box with partitions for slips of paper for each party. I picked mine and put it in an envelope that was given to me. Then I walked out and inserted my envelope into a blue box that looked like it donated by the kids who normally roam through that classroom. Then I left and caught a bus to Tel Aviv.
Maybe it’s part of my general mistrust of everything here, or my strong belief in how badly practically everything is run here, or the face of that Russian guy, but many times I wonder if that box made it where it should go.
I met up with a friend at the Eretz Israel Museum to see a photo exhibit by a guy who supposedly unlocked the world of Charedi people. There were a few good photos, but mostly Flickr positive comment good, nothing amazing. I was also annoyed that this photographic “unveiling” of Charedi life featured almost no photos of women.
After we were done there, we walked over to a few of the other pavilions- coins, ceramic, the mail history pavilion- which featured nothing but large facsimiles of postcards on posterboards and TV screens- but the exhibition that shone the brightest was… the concrete exhibition. Yes, an entire room devoted to the history of concrete in Israel. When you walked into the room, there was a little cement mixer, and in the hole was a TV screen that featured an artsy black and white film centered around shots of a large abstract concrete structure. The surrounding walls were covered in tiny TV screens depicting historical images of building Israel using concrete. However, the TV screens were mounted on frames made of wood, the antithesis of concrete. The frames were so massive that the entire concrete exhibition hall smelled strongly of freshly sanded wood!
Speaking of Russians. My neighbor is officially insane and everyone here hates her. Recently, she had her mom stay over her room for a few days. At first, I was elated because I thought the mother came to help her move out. The semester has ended and they were cleaning the room obsessively. But instead her mom stayed over a couple of nights last week and this week. Almost every night, I heard the Russian throw tantrums, call her mom stupid, a bitch, ask her if she was sick in the head or plain dumb. The mother said nothing in return.
Yesterday, they were actually getting along well, and I saw the mom in the kitchen. A plain woman, bleached blond hair, bright eye shadow. They were having a grand old time, which surprised me. She had her awful techno blasting through an open door and they smoked cigarettes in the hallway. Then they discussed how the mom would get to the airport, and about a half hour later, in a flash, the Russian began to scream at her mom and ran out the room, slamming the door to the kitchen and bathroom along the way. It was so bad everyone came out of their rooms to see what happened. A half hour later, two girls knocked on my door asking if I would come with them to complain about her, but in the end I couldn’t because they wanted to go when I had to work. However, after that, I heard the Russian again, arguing in Hebrew with some people. I came out, assuming it would be those girl, but I saw two of the Arab girls and a male friend of theirs. I couldn’t really tell what exactly they were saying, but I heard the words “noise,” “room,” etc. I decided to add my two cents. I told her, in Russian, that she is always loud, slamming doors, blasting music. “I’m never in room!” she said. She is always in her room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her mom gazing at the scene doe-eyed, but the Russian yelled at her mom to go back into the room and she scurried away.
The Russian continued, to me, “Listen. I’m so, so, so sorry if I have upset you in any way. As a Russian to a Russian. I would never. I beg your forgiveness. These girls are giving me such problems, these Arabs,” she sneered. She stank of cheap liquor, and wore her usual black leather jacket and iridiscent green eye shaow. “Honestly, I can’t believe you came out here like this. I would never do that to you! Anyway, I’m leaving soon. Did you know that?” I lit up visibly, probably. “How would I know that? Um, when are you leaving?” I could see a glimmer of disappointment behind her eyes when I asked that, but she didn’t answer me. She made some more racist comments, and continued to implore me to join her in the Russian plight against the Arab girls who want quiet so they can study. ”I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” I said. ”But it does! These girls are disgusting, look at that one over there!” Then she made some vulgar comment I couldn’t grasp but involved her breasts. “This makes no sense. We are all neighbors and we need to live together.” “No we don’t!” The Arab girls started up their arguing again, and the guy joined in, and I said, “Listen, I just want quiet” and walked back to my room. A few minutes later, the Russian yelled something that was obviously offensive because the guy asked her to repeat it, but instead she ran into her room, locked the door, and then yelled it again. All of this with her mom there. Lovely family.
Yes, it is time to move out of here.
At least I get a break from it all during my visit to New York- less than 6 days away!
