Tel-Aviv is a microcosm of London, with a beach and sun of course. I have moved into an apartment in the centre of the city. The roads are slightly dirtier, the glamour of high society may not exist, but what is present is a sense of freedom in this city. I can walk the streets and feel alive. Maybe this is due to its geographical size, as here I don’t need to rely on transportation. I can wander the streets at my will. Even more so, this new found freedom derives from the fact that for once, I can be a Jew on Jewish soil in an environment that doesn’t press religious expectations; here I simply can be one as I wish.
As with every major city in the world, life can be silent and lonely in a place so bustling, noisy and overpopulated. When embarking on a new life in a foreign country, I was never quite aware of the effect this transition could have on my emotional wellbeing. Coming here, I felt stripped bare of all thing comforting and familiar. My slate was wiped clean and I could finally understand the person I was in England, my character, and all my flaws. I could have easily slipped into my boyfriend’s life, but I wanted to do this myself, the one chance I could fully understand my life so far. If I am to establish an independent life here, the only person I can rely on is me.
Work
I was fortunate to find a job quite early in my search, in a financial derivatives pricing company. I decided to put a pause on my somewhat small journalism career, an industry that doesn’t carry the prestige and pay in Israel that it does to its Western counterparts. So I decided to press on with the finance.
Despite the familiar corporate foundations to this company, the Israeli work culture was definitely something that would take a lot of adjustment. Only in Israel can the CEO get away with walking around in flip-flops and socks. No formality is applied to dress and time management. Even dialect amongst colleagues seems ‘non-business’ like, with shouting being a means to and end. A country whose economy has grown from its superior on technology on a global level still resides in operating within a system of ‘balagan’ ( Hebrew for chaos/mess) and disorganisation. Something has to give here.
Thursday’s end of week ‘happy hour’ at work consists of another common theme to every social dynamic in Israel … eating. At my place of work, on times of celebration, such as meeting sales targets, we would be invited to drinks and canapés at work. The first form of celebration at my new work place consisted of a table of food ... hummus, meat, falafel, pita bread, an array of salads. My ‘English’ expectations of wine and a few nibbles had been trashed. Any form of social gathering here seems to imply eating, and a lot of it. I partially believe it to be an influence of our Jewish roots. Eating has always seemed to be a top priority throughout my life. In Israel, this food-devoted culture seems to have extended into the workplace. But of course, I am not complaining, even if my tuchus is (‘tuchus’ is Yiddish for buttocks).
Enjoying oneself and devoting time to relaxation seems more prominent here than in London culture. Although on the flipside, this emphasis placed on life outside the workplace leaves the work environment feeling quite empty and flat. People seem to lack the drive and ambition that has been the driving force for my life back home. In London I was defined by my work, yet here I feel loss and this identity is no longer important to the people I am surrounded by. Work doesn’t seem to be an important feature to ones identity, but rather what ones hobbies are, what one enjoys to do in the evenings, or more precisely, after work. This may be a positive aspect to Tel Aviv life … I have learnt to discover that there is more to life than a job, that life can be fulfilled through so many more means … painting, photography, dancing, watching the sunset on the beach with friends. Something that was so important to me has required to take a back seat ; and through this, I am learning to enjoy life in different ways. Yet, I can’t help but feel slightly incomplete; maybe the London girl in me is still around. I am a career woman G-d dammit! One step at a time … I am considering joining a knitting group … out of work hours are so fulfilling!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Thursday, February 16, 2006
1:6 The Western Girl, Not So Western Anymore (Sunday, January 29, 2006)
Since coming to Israel, I spent the weekends, whilst in Jerusalem, and the last few months in Ashdod, a quiet town in Southern Israel. This community, located an hour south from Tel Aviv, replicates a card-board cut-out of American suburbia. Tall, simple, white rectangular buildings, planted in mounds amongst the neatly paved roads, which are lined with pink and yellow flowers and palm trees. This new clean 'ghetto' provides homes to communities from North Africa, Ethiopia, Russia, France and India, making its social makeup slightly peculiar and awkward.
In Ashdod I have been living with Effy's family. It was amongst these wonderfully dynamic people that I felt truly suffocated by Middle Eastern living. In this setting, all my familiarities disappeared. As I became immersed in an environment totally foreign to me, it was here that I have come to fully understand the culture I come from and truly appreciate the diversity of human beings that exist in all corners of the world. Western values that I have taken for granted are yet to be developed in Israel. In every social setting, the role of men, women and the family structure echo underlying values labelled as archaic and backward in Western countries. It has been somewhat of a struggle and journey to learn to leave aside the values that have shaped my conscience, and enter a home in which this understanding of life is contradicted to entirety. I have literally learnt to shut my mouth, and observe to the extent I can this 'new' to me yet 'old' way of living.
Effy's maternal and paternal grandparents came to Israel during the late 1940's after experiencing anti-Semitism and persecution in Tripoli, an Italian colony of Libya, Northern Africa. His family settled in Ashdod and continued to develop their Tripoli foundations, with marriage and offspring being maintained within their community... The result being this huge Tripoli tribe, in other words, Effy's family. The immediate members consist of him, his two brothers, and parents. Following this, on his mother, Miriam's side is the grandparents, three uncles, their wives and about 20 children. It is on his father, Yitsak's (Hebrew for Issac) side where things start to get interesting. Yitsak has nine siblings (one brother and eight sisters), extended from this we have Effy's stereo-type, 'made for mafia movies', Sephardic grandma and around fifty, yes fifty, first cousins, eight of which are also called Effy (taken from his late grandfather); and finally the remaining three pet dogs, one of which recently having eight puppies. Of those who speak English: around 3, maybe four. It is amongst these people, I came to realize how different human beings can be so different in nature, despite the biological construction of us all being identical.
In Ashdod I have been living with Effy's family. It was amongst these wonderfully dynamic people that I felt truly suffocated by Middle Eastern living. In this setting, all my familiarities disappeared. As I became immersed in an environment totally foreign to me, it was here that I have come to fully understand the culture I come from and truly appreciate the diversity of human beings that exist in all corners of the world. Western values that I have taken for granted are yet to be developed in Israel. In every social setting, the role of men, women and the family structure echo underlying values labelled as archaic and backward in Western countries. It has been somewhat of a struggle and journey to learn to leave aside the values that have shaped my conscience, and enter a home in which this understanding of life is contradicted to entirety. I have literally learnt to shut my mouth, and observe to the extent I can this 'new' to me yet 'old' way of living.
Effy's maternal and paternal grandparents came to Israel during the late 1940's after experiencing anti-Semitism and persecution in Tripoli, an Italian colony of Libya, Northern Africa. His family settled in Ashdod and continued to develop their Tripoli foundations, with marriage and offspring being maintained within their community... The result being this huge Tripoli tribe, in other words, Effy's family. The immediate members consist of him, his two brothers, and parents. Following this, on his mother, Miriam's side is the grandparents, three uncles, their wives and about 20 children. It is on his father, Yitsak's (Hebrew for Issac) side where things start to get interesting. Yitsak has nine siblings (one brother and eight sisters), extended from this we have Effy's stereo-type, 'made for mafia movies', Sephardic grandma and around fifty, yes fifty, first cousins, eight of which are also called Effy (taken from his late grandfather); and finally the remaining three pet dogs, one of which recently having eight puppies. Of those who speak English: around 3, maybe four. It is amongst these people, I came to realize how different human beings can be so different in nature, despite the biological construction of us all being identical.
'What's up' from Gangsta Nana
This 'new' culture I entered half a year ago contradicts all that seemed 'normal' to my very existence. I could envisage an imaginary knife slicing through the demographic of this family, one side being determined by a subtle form of male dominance and the other by all possible forms of female domesticity. However, do not misunderstand this situation, these Tripoli women stand far from the weak, subordinated ones that may seem to have been concocted. These women are strong and dominant in their own right. It is, however, the physical nature of their presence, the constant cooking, the repetitive cleaning and nurturing, which seems almost automatic in nature, and which unsettled my understanding of what it is to be a women in the Twenty-first century.
Table Manners
This lesson in cultural diversity took place in various daily social settings of human interaction. For example, I have always understood that eating does not simply mean 'to eat'; even more so, it has come to incorporate certain habits and behaviours. From childhood, I was taught to withhold from placing my elbows on the table, to keep my mouth closed when I eat and to try not to raise my voice at the dinner table. Put simply, certain communities in Israel seemed to miss the boat when it came to adopting a way of culinary mannerisms.
Miriam's family lives amongst each other in a 'Moshav' (this being a communal settling, similar to that of a kibbutz). Her three brothers live with their families in small bungalow-style houses, which surround the dynasty's leadership, the grandparents. The most jolting experience, so far, has been dinner time with the family. All relatives gather round grandma's table and eat mounds of meat and couscous. I do not believe my digestive system has ever quite got over the trauma of the food it has faced the last few months. One time, this consisted of eating every organ of a lamb that just had its throat slit by the local rabbi in the garden. The uncles and aunties enjoyed the delicacies of throat, brain and heart. Lunchtime is like food-lovers marathon, without a serviette or a complete cutlery set in sight.
My understanding of how humans live amongst each other was incomplete. Western people, with western values and western way of living was all I knew, yet which was what I was ignorant of until I surrounded myself with unfamiliarity. The people I came to know have a different history and foundation for living. Their behaviours may seem to shock or even insult, but this is what they know best, this is how they see fit to live in a world dominated by war and ideological terror. It works for them, so why bother changing it, even if their Western visitor may nod her head in disbelief of cultural snobbery.
1:5 Happy Birthday (Sunday, December 11, 2005)
As promised
September 2004
One night in Tel Aviv, a few words from a passing stranger led to the world spinning from under my feet. The humor of this stranger and the grin on his face was totally endearing. My ‘British’ presence in this bustling Israeli nightclub was to be the brunt of his jokes.
This night lead the way to my life as it was taking on a whole new meaning. It defined the beginning of our future together. I had finally met my best friend.
His presence reminds me of the smell of burning lavender oils. On entering a room, aromas of comfort intoxicate the air. There is no escaping its fragrance. Theis sweet smell makes me feel soft inside, I feel calm and complete again.
He urged to see me again, ‘at least one time’ before I return back home to London. I dropped my veil of stubbornness and gave into his sparkling chocolate eyes and soft voice. Something felt so right and butterflies in my stomach flickered to confirm this. It was just so simple, it could not have been anything but right. This was how it was meant to be and there was no going back.
His presence lightens my soul. He makes me laugh like no other. This laughter lightens my world and his soul has given my life the happiness I have always yearned for.
The ‘final’ day before returning home felt like something I wanted to grab hold of and pull back with a rope. Acknowledging the feeling of emptiness to come sickened me inside. He slotted into a place in my heart. The afternoon in the airport would signify the time when my heart would become incomplete until the time of his return to my life, to fill it once more.
His presence is my focus in life. No one so kind, so giving, so sweet, so generous as he. My living angel has taught how to care and to love undividedly. He has helped me grow into a complete woman.
Today
Only two weeks following my departure, he came to London and back in my life. My darling has continued to stay in my life. He completes my heart.
Being away from the one you love is a struggle, it is impossible to breathe freely, to sleep at night with a rested mind and continue each day without a clouded thought. You cannot continue to live until they are back to fill that hole in your heart again. London was not my home anymore without him. When I am in his presence, I feel at home inhaling the scent of sweet lavender again.
Happy Birthday, I love you my baby, Effy.
XXXX
September 2004
One night in Tel Aviv, a few words from a passing stranger led to the world spinning from under my feet. The humor of this stranger and the grin on his face was totally endearing. My ‘British’ presence in this bustling Israeli nightclub was to be the brunt of his jokes.
This night lead the way to my life as it was taking on a whole new meaning. It defined the beginning of our future together. I had finally met my best friend.
His presence reminds me of the smell of burning lavender oils. On entering a room, aromas of comfort intoxicate the air. There is no escaping its fragrance. Theis sweet smell makes me feel soft inside, I feel calm and complete again.
He urged to see me again, ‘at least one time’ before I return back home to London. I dropped my veil of stubbornness and gave into his sparkling chocolate eyes and soft voice. Something felt so right and butterflies in my stomach flickered to confirm this. It was just so simple, it could not have been anything but right. This was how it was meant to be and there was no going back.
His presence lightens my soul. He makes me laugh like no other. This laughter lightens my world and his soul has given my life the happiness I have always yearned for.
The ‘final’ day before returning home felt like something I wanted to grab hold of and pull back with a rope. Acknowledging the feeling of emptiness to come sickened me inside. He slotted into a place in my heart. The afternoon in the airport would signify the time when my heart would become incomplete until the time of his return to my life, to fill it once more.
His presence is my focus in life. No one so kind, so giving, so sweet, so generous as he. My living angel has taught how to care and to love undividedly. He has helped me grow into a complete woman.
Today
Only two weeks following my departure, he came to London and back in my life. My darling has continued to stay in my life. He completes my heart.
Being away from the one you love is a struggle, it is impossible to breathe freely, to sleep at night with a rested mind and continue each day without a clouded thought. You cannot continue to live until they are back to fill that hole in your heart again. London was not my home anymore without him. When I am in his presence, I feel at home inhaling the scent of sweet lavender again.
Happy Birthday, I love you my baby, Effy.
XXXX
1:4 Lesson on Life (Monday, November 21, 2005)
“In every work of genius, we recognise our own rejected thoughts and they come back to us as alienated majesty.” Emerson
A few weeks ago I attended a “shior” (‘lesson’) in Jerusalem given by Professor Zornberg of Cambridge University. Amongst the abundance of information and historical commentary given on Jewish philosophy, I was presented with the above quote. The shior was impressive and inspirational, giving insight into human potential and instinct through the analyzing of the lives of biblical figures. This quote, or interpretation of human behaviour, has haunted me since its recital, echoing insecurities that have often possessed my mind.
Explanation
Many, during life, encounter thoughts of potential that they truly believe can be achieved, avenues they wish to venture, which can take them to new places. These thoughts can be ideas, beliefs, simple dreams or day dreaming ‘gone crazy’. In most cased, these thoughts are repressed, ignored and eventually forgotten. In the case of the lecture, it was Abraham who actually chose to overlook the possibility for repression. He actively acknowledged and ‘lived out’ all thoughts and epiphanies of the existence of God, conclusively leading him to Judaism.
There have been countless times I have repressed motives and ideas, which could have surely taken me towards alternate directions in life. For instance, if I had taken piano lessons more seriously, surely it would have been my destiny to perform in front of thousands. Or, I am certain my passion for justice could have led to my posting of leader for the British Government, if I had even bothered to participate in the debate team at school. The ‘would haves’ and ‘could haves’ tend to be stunted by dismissiveness, laziness and comfort for the norm and simplicity. Sometimes, life is better lived when it is more complicated, just to ensure that true happiness is an optional pursuit.
At least I can say my passion to live in Israel is being ‘lived-out’ rather than simply remaining a dream. Furthermore, writing these accounts reflect my passion for writing finally being acted out. I just hope I can continue to live life by this rule. I wish to no longer add to my list of regrets and be left with the thought that my potential dreams are the “alienated majesty” of others’ fulfillments, left with the thought that “I knew I could have done that”.
A few weeks ago I attended a “shior” (‘lesson’) in Jerusalem given by Professor Zornberg of Cambridge University. Amongst the abundance of information and historical commentary given on Jewish philosophy, I was presented with the above quote. The shior was impressive and inspirational, giving insight into human potential and instinct through the analyzing of the lives of biblical figures. This quote, or interpretation of human behaviour, has haunted me since its recital, echoing insecurities that have often possessed my mind.
Explanation
Many, during life, encounter thoughts of potential that they truly believe can be achieved, avenues they wish to venture, which can take them to new places. These thoughts can be ideas, beliefs, simple dreams or day dreaming ‘gone crazy’. In most cased, these thoughts are repressed, ignored and eventually forgotten. In the case of the lecture, it was Abraham who actually chose to overlook the possibility for repression. He actively acknowledged and ‘lived out’ all thoughts and epiphanies of the existence of God, conclusively leading him to Judaism.
There have been countless times I have repressed motives and ideas, which could have surely taken me towards alternate directions in life. For instance, if I had taken piano lessons more seriously, surely it would have been my destiny to perform in front of thousands. Or, I am certain my passion for justice could have led to my posting of leader for the British Government, if I had even bothered to participate in the debate team at school. The ‘would haves’ and ‘could haves’ tend to be stunted by dismissiveness, laziness and comfort for the norm and simplicity. Sometimes, life is better lived when it is more complicated, just to ensure that true happiness is an optional pursuit.
At least I can say my passion to live in Israel is being ‘lived-out’ rather than simply remaining a dream. Furthermore, writing these accounts reflect my passion for writing finally being acted out. I just hope I can continue to live life by this rule. I wish to no longer add to my list of regrets and be left with the thought that my potential dreams are the “alienated majesty” of others’ fulfillments, left with the thought that “I knew I could have done that”.
1:3 Change of Reality (Friday, November 11, 2005)
Since coming to Israel, my perspective on living, on life, has been altered. The news I watch represents a different reality; my priorities have a taken on different values, and my outlook on life has transformed.
Lately
The last few months have been somewhat stressful. Searching for a life on the internet hasn’t created a sense of hope for me. The language and culture is a huge obstacle to finding the ideal job and apartment. The system in Israel is based on nepotism rather than meritocracy. To find a job, you must know ‘someone’ ... what do you when you have moved to country in which you don’t know anyone. My situation exactly. Lately, I have been spending most evenings searching on the internet for work, sending my resume to anonymous e-mail addresses, in the hope that someone will notice mine amongst the many other hundreds. Career wise, journalism doesn’t seem to be calling for me in Israel, so I have decided to take a career shift in the hope to actually find a job!
My new society
I live in a society in which, at times, the atmosphere can be cut with a knife. The reality here is different to the western societal comfort I took for granted whilst growing up. Life in Israel has been infiltrated by fear and terror. Israeli youths are committed to three years in the army from 18 years. Children grow to learn that death is very much normal and common; they grow into adulthood with a gun in their hand and learn to appreciate the sounds of firing as simply background rhythms to their teenage hood. Seeing a youth with a machine gun crossed against its back on the bus home from Jerusalem is something totally normal to me now. In London, this site would probably have shocked me somewhat; but now living amongst a generation that truly appreciates the meaning of life is my present reality.
Flip-side
“How bloody miserable”, you must all be thinking. Well, you can all rejoice in the fact the life here isn’t all doom and gloom. The other side of reality is one of joy and magic in Israeli culture. In a country where one truly learns to appreciate death, they learn to totally appreciate life (Mitch Albom). And this is what makes living here so much more exciting and real.
Last summer was filled along the streets of Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and across Israel with music, love, art, culture and atmosphere. There was a plethora of festivals, concerts and parties that continue on every year. It is surprising that in a country smaller than the size of Wales back in the U.K., they have more going on than what I ever experienced living in London. All I can say is that Israelis definitely know how to party. In September during the holidays, Effy and I danced along the promenade in Tel Aviv at the Love parade. On one side was the beauty of the sea and the sand. On the other side were the same young Israelis I see on the bus, those who spend there weeks in army bases with armory in their hands; this time were holding banners, drinks, and balloons, moving and singing along with the floats parading along the center of the street. The fears of terror and sadness were dissolved into the sounds of the beats and laughter. Israel felt very much alive.
In Jerusalem, spirituality suffocates the air, and beauty resides in the ancient dusty white lime stoned buildings along the cobbled streets. This city is totally incredible. There is no other place in which I experience such uplifting feelings, stimulated by something so invisible and unbelievable. Down the road from my residency exists a single view of Jerusalem, which incorporates the foundations of the three dominant world religions, Christianity, Islam and Judaism, on which the city was created upon. From the window of the building I live, at night I can see the wall of the old city light up (the remains of the Temple), alongside the glow of the golden dome. Jerusalem is truly breathtaking. Every turn you take, you blown away by yet another amazing magical view.
This is the beauty of Israel. The country has been blessed with a rainbow of colours, and a world of environments … green hills and waterfalls of the north, turquoise water and the desert of the south, religion, spirituality, ethnicity, music, and food. This is the country I live in, so even though life here can be unbearably tough, I have so much more to live amongst. This is my new reality.
Lately
The last few months have been somewhat stressful. Searching for a life on the internet hasn’t created a sense of hope for me. The language and culture is a huge obstacle to finding the ideal job and apartment. The system in Israel is based on nepotism rather than meritocracy. To find a job, you must know ‘someone’ ... what do you when you have moved to country in which you don’t know anyone. My situation exactly. Lately, I have been spending most evenings searching on the internet for work, sending my resume to anonymous e-mail addresses, in the hope that someone will notice mine amongst the many other hundreds. Career wise, journalism doesn’t seem to be calling for me in Israel, so I have decided to take a career shift in the hope to actually find a job!
My new society
I live in a society in which, at times, the atmosphere can be cut with a knife. The reality here is different to the western societal comfort I took for granted whilst growing up. Life in Israel has been infiltrated by fear and terror. Israeli youths are committed to three years in the army from 18 years. Children grow to learn that death is very much normal and common; they grow into adulthood with a gun in their hand and learn to appreciate the sounds of firing as simply background rhythms to their teenage hood. Seeing a youth with a machine gun crossed against its back on the bus home from Jerusalem is something totally normal to me now. In London, this site would probably have shocked me somewhat; but now living amongst a generation that truly appreciates the meaning of life is my present reality.
Flip-side
“How bloody miserable”, you must all be thinking. Well, you can all rejoice in the fact the life here isn’t all doom and gloom. The other side of reality is one of joy and magic in Israeli culture. In a country where one truly learns to appreciate death, they learn to totally appreciate life (Mitch Albom). And this is what makes living here so much more exciting and real.
Last summer was filled along the streets of Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and across Israel with music, love, art, culture and atmosphere. There was a plethora of festivals, concerts and parties that continue on every year. It is surprising that in a country smaller than the size of Wales back in the U.K., they have more going on than what I ever experienced living in London. All I can say is that Israelis definitely know how to party. In September during the holidays, Effy and I danced along the promenade in Tel Aviv at the Love parade. On one side was the beauty of the sea and the sand. On the other side were the same young Israelis I see on the bus, those who spend there weeks in army bases with armory in their hands; this time were holding banners, drinks, and balloons, moving and singing along with the floats parading along the center of the street. The fears of terror and sadness were dissolved into the sounds of the beats and laughter. Israel felt very much alive.
In Jerusalem, spirituality suffocates the air, and beauty resides in the ancient dusty white lime stoned buildings along the cobbled streets. This city is totally incredible. There is no other place in which I experience such uplifting feelings, stimulated by something so invisible and unbelievable. Down the road from my residency exists a single view of Jerusalem, which incorporates the foundations of the three dominant world religions, Christianity, Islam and Judaism, on which the city was created upon. From the window of the building I live, at night I can see the wall of the old city light up (the remains of the Temple), alongside the glow of the golden dome. Jerusalem is truly breathtaking. Every turn you take, you blown away by yet another amazing magical view.
This is the beauty of Israel. The country has been blessed with a rainbow of colours, and a world of environments … green hills and waterfalls of the north, turquoise water and the desert of the south, religion, spirituality, ethnicity, music, and food. This is the country I live in, so even though life here can be unbearably tough, I have so much more to live amongst. This is my new reality.
1:2 The Alef Bet, Men and Women (Monday, October 10, 2005)
My newly acquired skill: to beable to order falafel and humus in the most polite and appropriate forms.
I have been at an ‘ulpan’ since July, this being a place that one learns Hebrew having made ‘Aliyah’ (this being “Jewish immigration to the Land of Israel”, Wikipedia encyclopedia).
Hebrew is an interesting language. Despite the fact it has developed upon biblical Hebrew, Aramaic, Babylonian and other ancient languages, gender somehow worked its way into the equation and played a defining part in determining its formation.
Now, I am sure in ancient times people had already determined that men and women just don’t talk the same language. I am assuming the whole men are from Mars and women are from Venus theory existed in some form back then. However, this conflicting relationship just seemed to work its way through to communication, and gender was incorporated into the construction of the Hebrew language.
This certainly did not make things easy for me. For example, I can say the word ‘love’ in about a thousand ways, including: masculine singular, masculine plural, feminine singular, feminine plural, as a noun, as the root of the verb; past masculine singular, past masculine plural, past feminine singular, past masculine plural, future forms, imperfect form and the list is endless. Why can’t love just be simple … men always seem to know how to complicate the situation.
The difficulities of the Hebrew language didn't end there. You may be thinking, it can't be that hard, it must be the same pattern to say each verb, for example to say I love, I hate. Oh well, uh oh, no pattern at all. Each bloody single verb is part of one of the plentiful, complicated groups that exist, each having its own pattern of how they are constructed, spelt and pronounced. On top of that, there are the thousands of bloody exceptions, just to throw a spanner in the pipeline (English phrase), the logic explained by my teacher as ‘Cacha Cacha’, i.e. just because.
Conclusion to my dilemma: I wont be surprised once having ordered my falafel and humus that the guy at the counter asks if I had a sex change.
(No I haven’t ... but if you haven’t got the last line, please read again, this time slowly!!)
I have been at an ‘ulpan’ since July, this being a place that one learns Hebrew having made ‘Aliyah’ (this being “Jewish immigration to the Land of Israel”, Wikipedia encyclopedia).
Hebrew is an interesting language. Despite the fact it has developed upon biblical Hebrew, Aramaic, Babylonian and other ancient languages, gender somehow worked its way into the equation and played a defining part in determining its formation.
Now, I am sure in ancient times people had already determined that men and women just don’t talk the same language. I am assuming the whole men are from Mars and women are from Venus theory existed in some form back then. However, this conflicting relationship just seemed to work its way through to communication, and gender was incorporated into the construction of the Hebrew language.
This certainly did not make things easy for me. For example, I can say the word ‘love’ in about a thousand ways, including: masculine singular, masculine plural, feminine singular, feminine plural, as a noun, as the root of the verb; past masculine singular, past masculine plural, past feminine singular, past masculine plural, future forms, imperfect form and the list is endless. Why can’t love just be simple … men always seem to know how to complicate the situation.
The difficulities of the Hebrew language didn't end there. You may be thinking, it can't be that hard, it must be the same pattern to say each verb, for example to say I love, I hate. Oh well, uh oh, no pattern at all. Each bloody single verb is part of one of the plentiful, complicated groups that exist, each having its own pattern of how they are constructed, spelt and pronounced. On top of that, there are the thousands of bloody exceptions, just to throw a spanner in the pipeline (English phrase), the logic explained by my teacher as ‘Cacha Cacha’, i.e. just because.
Conclusion to my dilemma: I wont be surprised once having ordered my falafel and humus that the guy at the counter asks if I had a sex change.
(No I haven’t ... but if you haven’t got the last line, please read again, this time slowly!!)
1:1 (Part 1 'Can't take the London out of a Londoner) The Background, The Result, The Conclusion (Sunday, October 02, 2005)
So here we go … the explanation to why I left one of the most prosperous, buzzing cities of the world to live in the heated melting pot of all religion, all culture … the epicenter of it all … Israel.
I fulfilled my life ambitions by the age of twenty-four. I had my dream job, a financial reporter for a huge corporation. I had a pension plan, health cover, gym membership, a new car and everything seemed to be in my reach. Yet, the shiny surface of this Western package can be a reality of dull undertones. It was in these shades of grey I lived. The clouds shaded the music, laughter and joy. I was left in a lonely place … my bed, my desk at work and the train ride home.
My reality
Work … an 11-hour a day, at the desk by 5:45am, the constant pressure of accuracy and speed (the core policy of real-time news writing), the daily grunting of verbal abuse amongst colleagues and the lack of sunlight ... glamorous city life! My name had even developed into “f#@king c#Ô" by the night-time editor, and accompanied the beginning of depression and RSI that had spread across my back.
My colleagues
I was experiencing life amongst a bunch of egotistical and self-righteous being (journalists, in other words), whose opinions were clouded by a “middle-class” superiority complex.
Insight into a few of these attitudes
Office banter often brought views and beliefs of these beings to the surface, and often leaving me with feelings of resentment and anger. I can recall one conversation with one young, white and English (questionably 'middle class') colleague concerning the topical matter in British Politics, the practice of fox hunting. This sport, which involves people riding horses, in bowler hats and red jackets and competing to kill foxes, had finally been banned in the United Kingdom. This particular colleague disagreed with this governmental decision and attempted in every measure to justify the sport.
Him: “It has been a tradition for thousands of years imbedded in British culture, why should it change now? It is important to maintain our tradition”
Me: " Hmmm ... forget about the foxes for a sec, slavery and women being denied the right to vote didn’t happen that long ago!"
He abruptly ended the conversation with a grunt.
Morning conversations often included a session of digging over the contents of the daily tabloids (for example, “The Sun”), which involved humouring over how the alien “working class” conduct their lives. “Ohhh, pregnancy of a 16-year-old” … “oh my, drug abuse, how could this be happening!” (N.B. sarcasm on my part ladies and gentlemen).
My so-called colleagues even demonstrated an acceptance for public figures to wear Nazi symbolism at fancy-dress parties (i.e. Prince Harry’s doing in other words). This discussion did seem to fade out with my arrival in the office that day ... I recall one saying "why would such an act offend Jews”. Well, what about the fact that if I had been born 50 years earlier in certain parts in the world, I would more likely be dead than alive. I simply bit my tongue and continued with the day. My passion to defend my beliefs and my identity had worn quite thin over the years. I learnt to shut my mouth and just live with what I believe.
Result
My life didn’t seem to equate with the city life I had quite imagined. It didn't involve sipping on cosmopolitans and lunch dining as envisaged when I finished university. Reality was a cup of tea and a lousy soggy cheese cling-filmed sandwich.
One night, I began thinking (something I seem to be a pro at) “I am in my 20’s, a miserable old cow who can’t seem to find happiness in the life I am living. Hold it … what the hell am I doing with myself?
… I know, I am going to make a stand with my life and determine it's direction. I am buggering off to a country that I have a passion for, a connection to, that serves Kosher kebab 24 hours a day. I am going to live in Israel.
Yes, I do have my ties there. Being Jewish and having an Israeli boyfriend did help prompt my decision, but I was sacrificing all the things every Jewish mother dreams for their child, a career. Well, what could I do, I needed an escape route from this life I somehow fell into.
I wanted to get back in touch with who I am and what I believe. I didn't want have to defend my postion anymore to people that didn't understand the half of it and didn't even care. I wanted to be amongst 'real' life ... living politics and living beliefs. Israel incorporates all of that and more.
Conclusion
So here I am now, four months down the line having moved to Israel … studying the language, immersing into Israeli culture … it is brilliant!!!!!!! I spend my weekends at the beach. I get to spend time sipping on what the hell I want; I get to relax and breathe in the atmosphere and enjoy the life that I have always dreamt of. I meet people from every corner of the world, the greatest people. My pains are finally dissolving, I can drink, dance, relax …. I am finally happy.
I fulfilled my life ambitions by the age of twenty-four. I had my dream job, a financial reporter for a huge corporation. I had a pension plan, health cover, gym membership, a new car and everything seemed to be in my reach. Yet, the shiny surface of this Western package can be a reality of dull undertones. It was in these shades of grey I lived. The clouds shaded the music, laughter and joy. I was left in a lonely place … my bed, my desk at work and the train ride home.
My reality
Work … an 11-hour a day, at the desk by 5:45am, the constant pressure of accuracy and speed (the core policy of real-time news writing), the daily grunting of verbal abuse amongst colleagues and the lack of sunlight ... glamorous city life! My name had even developed into “f#@king c#Ô" by the night-time editor, and accompanied the beginning of depression and RSI that had spread across my back.
My colleagues
I was experiencing life amongst a bunch of egotistical and self-righteous being (journalists, in other words), whose opinions were clouded by a “middle-class” superiority complex.
Insight into a few of these attitudes
Office banter often brought views and beliefs of these beings to the surface, and often leaving me with feelings of resentment and anger. I can recall one conversation with one young, white and English (questionably 'middle class') colleague concerning the topical matter in British Politics, the practice of fox hunting. This sport, which involves people riding horses, in bowler hats and red jackets and competing to kill foxes, had finally been banned in the United Kingdom. This particular colleague disagreed with this governmental decision and attempted in every measure to justify the sport.
Him: “It has been a tradition for thousands of years imbedded in British culture, why should it change now? It is important to maintain our tradition”
Me: " Hmmm ... forget about the foxes for a sec, slavery and women being denied the right to vote didn’t happen that long ago!"
He abruptly ended the conversation with a grunt.
Morning conversations often included a session of digging over the contents of the daily tabloids (for example, “The Sun”), which involved humouring over how the alien “working class” conduct their lives. “Ohhh, pregnancy of a 16-year-old” … “oh my, drug abuse, how could this be happening!” (N.B. sarcasm on my part ladies and gentlemen).
My so-called colleagues even demonstrated an acceptance for public figures to wear Nazi symbolism at fancy-dress parties (i.e. Prince Harry’s doing in other words). This discussion did seem to fade out with my arrival in the office that day ... I recall one saying "why would such an act offend Jews”. Well, what about the fact that if I had been born 50 years earlier in certain parts in the world, I would more likely be dead than alive. I simply bit my tongue and continued with the day. My passion to defend my beliefs and my identity had worn quite thin over the years. I learnt to shut my mouth and just live with what I believe.
Result
My life didn’t seem to equate with the city life I had quite imagined. It didn't involve sipping on cosmopolitans and lunch dining as envisaged when I finished university. Reality was a cup of tea and a lousy soggy cheese cling-filmed sandwich.
One night, I began thinking (something I seem to be a pro at) “I am in my 20’s, a miserable old cow who can’t seem to find happiness in the life I am living. Hold it … what the hell am I doing with myself?
… I know, I am going to make a stand with my life and determine it's direction. I am buggering off to a country that I have a passion for, a connection to, that serves Kosher kebab 24 hours a day. I am going to live in Israel.
Yes, I do have my ties there. Being Jewish and having an Israeli boyfriend did help prompt my decision, but I was sacrificing all the things every Jewish mother dreams for their child, a career. Well, what could I do, I needed an escape route from this life I somehow fell into.
I wanted to get back in touch with who I am and what I believe. I didn't want have to defend my postion anymore to people that didn't understand the half of it and didn't even care. I wanted to be amongst 'real' life ... living politics and living beliefs. Israel incorporates all of that and more.
Conclusion
So here I am now, four months down the line having moved to Israel … studying the language, immersing into Israeli culture … it is brilliant!!!!!!! I spend my weekends at the beach. I get to spend time sipping on what the hell I want; I get to relax and breathe in the atmosphere and enjoy the life that I have always dreamt of. I meet people from every corner of the world, the greatest people. My pains are finally dissolving, I can drink, dance, relax …. I am finally happy.
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