Being an American in a foreign country has given me the chance to see the USA from a different perspective and has actually taught me a lot about what it really means to be American. Being an American in Israel is especially enlightening, I think, because there are so many ways in which the two countries are similar, so many ways they are different, and so many ways each misunderstands the other.
I proudly voted for Obama right before I moved here - it was a time of great hope but also began what I see as a trend of division and ugliness. As soon as I moved, I found myself having to explain things I was not (and still am not) qualified to explain: the financial crisis, Obama's foreign policy and view of Israel, the opposition to the healthcare reform bill, the Tea Party, Sarah Palin. There are intricacies of the US political system that cannot be understood by a country of just under 8 million people with a Parliamentary system of government.
What I cannot explain is the recent trend of hate, ugliness and ignorance coming from the US. And I am no longer talking about what is going on in politics, although that is bad enough. It is horrifying to watch your fellow citizens display their ignorance about their President, about the political decisions they need to make when they go to vote, about what is science and what is religion, and about people different from them.
One of the great things about America is that we are allowed to express our opinions, protest, and be pissed off at our country. What scares me is the lack of factual information used to form these opinions. It seems that instead of wanting to hear both sides of the story in order to form an intelligent opinion, people just seek others who share their same views and sit around agreeing with each other and yelling at the other side in a big am-not-are-too playground battle. Most of the time, it seems these groups think the louder and more extreme they are, the more correct and righteous that makes them. And the one person who is holding his cool and trying to fix the mess he inherited is constantly under attack for not having solved these problems yesterday.
The news of the NYC mosque and the Quran-burning pastor has of course made it to this neck of the woods. I found myself at Shabbat dinner last night, surrounded by 60+-year-old native Israelis, almost in tears discussing these events. Imagine that, someone from the big Melting Pot trying to explain to people who have a daily threat from Arab Muslims how we can be so wrongly scared of Islam.
Again, I think it's amazing that America is a place where people can protest and express their opinions, no matter how controversial, uncomfortable, or extreme. What I think has really struck a nerve with me is not so much the actual act of burning the Quran, but on doing so on the memory of all those who perished on 9/11. Have we learned nothing in the past 9 years?! This is how people want to remember the dead? By letting ignorance and hatred penetrate our nation? What a departure from the sense of solidarity and patriotism that occurred in the aftermath of the attacks.
My hopes for America as we remember the horrific day 9 years ago and seek to honor those who died:
Hug your families and loved ones and be thankful each day that you have them.
Instead of shutting down and putting up a wall between you and someone with a different opinion, listen to them. Challenge yourself to understand their point of view because it will only make your opinion that much stronger.
Celebrate our differences. Learn from them. Be thankful you live in a country where these differences can even exist.
Continue to fight and be pissed off, but at least do so intelligently and effectively. Being ill-informed and loud doesn't make you right, just noisy.
Instead of burning the Quran, read it. Instead of shutting the doors of a mosque, enter one. Learn about the religion and realize the beauty that the great majority of followers see in it. At the same time, realize how it is extorted by extremists and the danger in equating the religion with terrorism. Islam =/= al Qaeda.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
'Tis the season...
...for figs!
One of my favorite things about Israel (of course it would be food-related) is the abundance of fresh produce here. There are only a handful of fruits and veggies that the States does better - apples and corn, to name two.
Our landlord has tons of fruit trees around the yard. Unfortunately, this year's weather prevented the berry and cherry trees from producing much of anything. My disappointment at not being able to pluck fresh cherries from the backyard was compounded by the fact that the same weather affected all the country's orchards, thus driving up fruit prices at the market. It's hard to spend 12 shekels/kilo on peaches when last year they were half that.
But the figs! The figs survived! The figs are coming! Ron collected all those you see in the photo (minus the half-dozen we promptly devoured for breakfast). And they are so. Good. And I think this would explain the appearance of two fruit bats to our yard last night - last year we would sit outside after the sun went down and watch them fly around the yard, confused by Ron's squeaking bat-calls. Last night was the first night we saw any! All because of the figs!
One of my favorite things about Israel (of course it would be food-related) is the abundance of fresh produce here. There are only a handful of fruits and veggies that the States does better - apples and corn, to name two.
Our landlord has tons of fruit trees around the yard. Unfortunately, this year's weather prevented the berry and cherry trees from producing much of anything. My disappointment at not being able to pluck fresh cherries from the backyard was compounded by the fact that the same weather affected all the country's orchards, thus driving up fruit prices at the market. It's hard to spend 12 shekels/kilo on peaches when last year they were half that.
But the figs! The figs survived! The figs are coming! Ron collected all those you see in the photo (minus the half-dozen we promptly devoured for breakfast). And they are so. Good. And I think this would explain the appearance of two fruit bats to our yard last night - last year we would sit outside after the sun went down and watch them fly around the yard, confused by Ron's squeaking bat-calls. Last night was the first night we saw any! All because of the figs!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Driving with the Devil (all 8 million of them)
On the day I turned 16, my mom (bless her heart) and I went to the DMV in Apple Valley, MN without an appointment, stood in line and hung out on the lawn of the testing center watching the hired pedestrians pacing around the side of the road. The days before I had diligently practiced parallel parking (I knew my weakness!) our old Chrysler minivan in our driveway, and then suffered a minor freakout when, for some reason that evades me now, there was a last-minute substitution for my dad's Toyota Celica. You'd think I would be thrilled, because Celica > Caravan any day, but I hadn't practiced! I didn't know where the hazard light button was!
So, it was with pounding heart I sat in the driver's seat, looking frantically for that little red triangle without being obvious as one of the largest men I have ever seen tried to squeeze himself into the bucket seat of the Celica. I bet he was wishing for the Caravan. He managed to get his bulk, plus his clipboard, safely buckled in, and we were off! At a screaming 20 mph! I even managed to parallel park, even though I was a bit far away from the curb. That, and "not inspecting the intersection before I entered on a green light" were my only infractions, so I had passed! Happy birthday to me!
Fast-forward 13 years later, and once again I found myself needing to pass a driving test. I had started the bureaucratic process of converting my US license to an Israeli one 6 months ago: getting an eye exam, detouring to renew my visa, getting permission from the Misrad haRishui (the Israeli DMV) to schedule a lesson and exam, scheduling said lesson and exam, going to the post office to pay fees. I had a contact of a driving instructor from fellow Ulpan students who had successfully changed their license. At 7:30 one Sunday morning, he met me outside of the University for my 20 minute behind-the-wheel lesson. I have been driving in Israel on my US license for over a year. There's nothing like learning by immersion, so this lesson was more a formality - "so you can't say you've never heard this before." I was shocked to hear him tell me to "stay on the right" and to "not enter the intersection on yellow" and to "give right-of-way to pedestrians" and to "always signal when turning" because I was certain these rules had disappeared from Israeli memory. "You're technically not supposed to use your horn except in case of emergency but no one enforces THAT rule." Ah, okay, that's better.
It took a month before I was scheduled for an exam. I was given an appointment at 8:20 am, which meant full-on Jerusalem rush-hour traffic. Joy. As I dropped Ron off at work, his one piece of advice? "Don't drive like an Israeli. You drive well, but don't drive like you normally do." Um, okay, thanks?! When I arrived to the testing center, I chatted with the other couple who shared my appointment. They were a nice young religious couple from the States, who were on their second try. They had horror stories about the woman who tested them the first time: she grabbed the steering wheel, she used her brakes, she screamed. Her goal in life, it seemed, was to fail drivers. This was far removed from most of the stories I had heard, where the instructor just wants to make sure you've driven before and have control of the vehicle.
Finally, our instructor arrived, and true to the apparent trend I have, he was thankful the instructor's car was a practical sedan and not a Celica. I sat in the backseat as the couple took their turns: 10 minutes or so of aimless driving around the Talpiyot section of Jerusalem. This meant many cars, many round-abouts, many small streets. Both of them seemed to be driving scared, but they were fine. It also was apparent that the instructor was not out to trick anyone. His vocabulary consisted of "right... left... pull over... change drivers." Then it was my turn, and we basically just had to return to the testing center. I was on my best behavior: no horn-honking, no quick moves to pull into the round-abouts, no maneuvers to get around buses. And then it came: I was on a two-way street that had only enough room for one car at a time. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Brinks van came barreling down the street with no signs of slowing down. I had to slam on the breaks and pull my nose over. And I could have SWORN the tester used his brake. That's it, I thought, it's over. I failed. He used his brake.
Now, due to some unpleasant incidents in the past, you don't find out on the spot whether or not you pass the test. Instead, I had all day to convince myself I had failed the test. And I did a fine job of it: I had drawn out scenario after scenario of being disgraced. A failure! She can't drive, even well enough by Israeli standards!
At 4:36 I took a deep breath and called my instructor to find out my results. "Hi Erin, how are you?" "Fine... I think. You tell me."
Dum-dah-dummmm.
"Oh, there is no problem. You passed."
I actually felt the weight being lifted from my shoulders. Whew! So, after another trip to the Misrad haRishui, I am the proud holder of an Israeli license. Not as proud as I thought I'd be, because I'm only here on a visa so I have only a flimsy piece of paper that has to be renewed every six months. No pretty plastic card with a bad picture for me. At least I don't have to take the test again!
So, it was with pounding heart I sat in the driver's seat, looking frantically for that little red triangle without being obvious as one of the largest men I have ever seen tried to squeeze himself into the bucket seat of the Celica. I bet he was wishing for the Caravan. He managed to get his bulk, plus his clipboard, safely buckled in, and we were off! At a screaming 20 mph! I even managed to parallel park, even though I was a bit far away from the curb. That, and "not inspecting the intersection before I entered on a green light" were my only infractions, so I had passed! Happy birthday to me!
Fast-forward 13 years later, and once again I found myself needing to pass a driving test. I had started the bureaucratic process of converting my US license to an Israeli one 6 months ago: getting an eye exam, detouring to renew my visa, getting permission from the Misrad haRishui (the Israeli DMV) to schedule a lesson and exam, scheduling said lesson and exam, going to the post office to pay fees. I had a contact of a driving instructor from fellow Ulpan students who had successfully changed their license. At 7:30 one Sunday morning, he met me outside of the University for my 20 minute behind-the-wheel lesson. I have been driving in Israel on my US license for over a year. There's nothing like learning by immersion, so this lesson was more a formality - "so you can't say you've never heard this before." I was shocked to hear him tell me to "stay on the right" and to "not enter the intersection on yellow" and to "give right-of-way to pedestrians" and to "always signal when turning" because I was certain these rules had disappeared from Israeli memory. "You're technically not supposed to use your horn except in case of emergency but no one enforces THAT rule." Ah, okay, that's better.
It took a month before I was scheduled for an exam. I was given an appointment at 8:20 am, which meant full-on Jerusalem rush-hour traffic. Joy. As I dropped Ron off at work, his one piece of advice? "Don't drive like an Israeli. You drive well, but don't drive like you normally do." Um, okay, thanks?! When I arrived to the testing center, I chatted with the other couple who shared my appointment. They were a nice young religious couple from the States, who were on their second try. They had horror stories about the woman who tested them the first time: she grabbed the steering wheel, she used her brakes, she screamed. Her goal in life, it seemed, was to fail drivers. This was far removed from most of the stories I had heard, where the instructor just wants to make sure you've driven before and have control of the vehicle.
Finally, our instructor arrived, and true to the apparent trend I have, he was thankful the instructor's car was a practical sedan and not a Celica. I sat in the backseat as the couple took their turns: 10 minutes or so of aimless driving around the Talpiyot section of Jerusalem. This meant many cars, many round-abouts, many small streets. Both of them seemed to be driving scared, but they were fine. It also was apparent that the instructor was not out to trick anyone. His vocabulary consisted of "right... left... pull over... change drivers." Then it was my turn, and we basically just had to return to the testing center. I was on my best behavior: no horn-honking, no quick moves to pull into the round-abouts, no maneuvers to get around buses. And then it came: I was on a two-way street that had only enough room for one car at a time. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Brinks van came barreling down the street with no signs of slowing down. I had to slam on the breaks and pull my nose over. And I could have SWORN the tester used his brake. That's it, I thought, it's over. I failed. He used his brake.
Now, due to some unpleasant incidents in the past, you don't find out on the spot whether or not you pass the test. Instead, I had all day to convince myself I had failed the test. And I did a fine job of it: I had drawn out scenario after scenario of being disgraced. A failure! She can't drive, even well enough by Israeli standards!
At 4:36 I took a deep breath and called my instructor to find out my results. "Hi Erin, how are you?" "Fine... I think. You tell me."
Dum-dah-dummmm.
"Oh, there is no problem. You passed."
I actually felt the weight being lifted from my shoulders. Whew! So, after another trip to the Misrad haRishui, I am the proud holder of an Israeli license. Not as proud as I thought I'd be, because I'm only here on a visa so I have only a flimsy piece of paper that has to be renewed every six months. No pretty plastic card with a bad picture for me. At least I don't have to take the test again!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
I almost died today. Or felt like it. In my head, parking a few km down the mountain to start my usual Saturday 20-24km run would mean my run would be flat.
The run was beautiful, looping around trails in the mountains outside Jerusalem, near Givat Yearim and Kesalon:
Problem was, it wasn't flat. Not even a little bit.
During all those yellow/orange/red sections - so, like, an hour+ - I was kicking myself for not making gazpacho yesterday. It would have tasted amazing post-run (although, let's face it, my running socks probably would have tasted amazing provided they were chilled first). I had stocked up on extra veggies at the market especially with this recipe in mind. I made it once before, and it's lovely. Granted, my recipe looks a bit different from the published recipe on Epicurious.com, in that I entirely ignore the quantities (do people really measure out vegetable amounts in recipes?!). Like most recipes, I tend to use them as guidelines, rather than hard-and-fast rules. I'm by no means a seasoned chef, but I know my way around the kitchen enough to feel confident tweaking recipes even if I've never followed them before - it's just a matter of knowing which things you can change or substitute (# of garlic cloves) and which things are best left alone (flour:sugar:egg ratios in baking). Of course, if a recipe involves yeast, the only thing I change is adding the instruction "hold your breath and pray."
Well, after a fantastic banana-pear-yogurt-milk-flax-peanut butter smoothie (thankfully I did not have to eat my socks), I set to work making the gazpacho I spent 7 brutal miles drooling over.
First things first:
Because cooking isn't cooking without a glass of wine.
Please note the still-wet bottles from my water belt. I have an amazing transition time in my running-drinking biathlon.
One of my favorite things about living in Israel is the plethora of amazing fresh produce. Cucumbers here have FLAVOR. Plus, you don't have to peel them, because their skins aren't made of wax. And, it's cheap - peppers right now are about 4 shekels/kilo, which works out to about $1/kilo, which works out to 45c/pound. So many conversions, so little time.
Ingredients all assembled, I set to chopping. And chopping. Like I said, I didn't measure anything, I just made sure I had room left in the bowl for the liquid ingredients and that all the colors were in a nice proportion. Final count: 2 peppers (one yellow, one orange), 3 tomatoes, 3 cucs, a handful of cilantro, 2 little red onions, one hot pepper, cumin, pepper, homemade chicken stock, the remainder of the bottle of white wine vinegar, a 3-second pour of olive oil, one liter tomato juice, juice from half a lemon. Plus, the mashed garlic-salt-egg concoction (with 3 cloves and sea salt) and breadcrumbs to thicken.
Before:
After:
It's now merrily chilling, and unless we eat during the Germany-Argentina game, it will be dinner. Unless Ron gets to it first, I already had to keep his nose out of the bowl once!
The run was beautiful, looping around trails in the mountains outside Jerusalem, near Givat Yearim and Kesalon:
Problem was, it wasn't flat. Not even a little bit.
During all those yellow/orange/red sections - so, like, an hour+ - I was kicking myself for not making gazpacho yesterday. It would have tasted amazing post-run (although, let's face it, my running socks probably would have tasted amazing provided they were chilled first). I had stocked up on extra veggies at the market especially with this recipe in mind. I made it once before, and it's lovely. Granted, my recipe looks a bit different from the published recipe on Epicurious.com, in that I entirely ignore the quantities (do people really measure out vegetable amounts in recipes?!). Like most recipes, I tend to use them as guidelines, rather than hard-and-fast rules. I'm by no means a seasoned chef, but I know my way around the kitchen enough to feel confident tweaking recipes even if I've never followed them before - it's just a matter of knowing which things you can change or substitute (# of garlic cloves) and which things are best left alone (flour:sugar:egg ratios in baking). Of course, if a recipe involves yeast, the only thing I change is adding the instruction "hold your breath and pray."
Well, after a fantastic banana-pear-yogurt-milk-flax-peanut butter smoothie (thankfully I did not have to eat my socks), I set to work making the gazpacho I spent 7 brutal miles drooling over.
First things first:
Because cooking isn't cooking without a glass of wine.
Please note the still-wet bottles from my water belt. I have an amazing transition time in my running-drinking biathlon.
One of my favorite things about living in Israel is the plethora of amazing fresh produce. Cucumbers here have FLAVOR. Plus, you don't have to peel them, because their skins aren't made of wax. And, it's cheap - peppers right now are about 4 shekels/kilo, which works out to about $1/kilo, which works out to 45c/pound. So many conversions, so little time.
Ingredients all assembled, I set to chopping. And chopping. Like I said, I didn't measure anything, I just made sure I had room left in the bowl for the liquid ingredients and that all the colors were in a nice proportion. Final count: 2 peppers (one yellow, one orange), 3 tomatoes, 3 cucs, a handful of cilantro, 2 little red onions, one hot pepper, cumin, pepper, homemade chicken stock, the remainder of the bottle of white wine vinegar, a 3-second pour of olive oil, one liter tomato juice, juice from half a lemon. Plus, the mashed garlic-salt-egg concoction (with 3 cloves and sea salt) and breadcrumbs to thicken.
Before:
After:
It's now merrily chilling, and unless we eat during the Germany-Argentina game, it will be dinner. Unless Ron gets to it first, I already had to keep his nose out of the bowl once!
Motivation
Well, obviously I haven't posted in a while. I think my "Israel is funny" angle just isn't motivating me enough to post regularly. I mean, if I'm supposed to be acclimating, I can't be fixated on the differences between here and the States, otherwise I won't be making a complete transition to my life here. So, I'm going to try a new angle - to just write about MY life here, simple as that. I hope to emphasize the "only in Israel" aspects of my experiences, but also use this blog as an outlet to vent, complain, brag, babble aimlessly, whatever. So, with that, I've got a post percolating in the ol' noggin that should make its way here in the next day or two :)
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Another milestone passed:
I passed through airport security, the Delta ticket counter, the next round of airport security, and Duty Free - all in Hebrew :)
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Headlines to die for.
The driving habits of Israelis could fill up an entire blog by itself. I would have enough material for a daily blog if I just recounted the traffic-law violations I saw on a daily basis. Scratch that, forget traffic-law violations, just common-sense violations would suffice. Turn signals? Turning left from the left-hand turn lane and not three lanes over? Driving right, passing left? Driving at a constant speed without randomly throwing on the emergency brake and coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road? Forget it, such things do not exist here.
Apparently, the powers that be have apparently caught on to the erratic driving tendencies of Israeli drivers. Right now there is an advertising campaign urging people not to do anything but drive while they're behind the wheel. On the radio, you'll hear a "common" situation, and until a couple of weeks ago, this would be followed by the sound of a crash, followed by a very solemn voice urging the driver not to do such things. The worst one was a father calling home to say goodnight to his young daughter before she went to bed, only to have her hear an accident and cry futilely "Abba... Abba?!" into the phone. The crash sound has recently disappeared, probably because of the cringe-factor.
I'll admit, some of these situations aren't specific to Israel. Especially the whole texting/talking on the cell phone bit. And I'm sure elsewhere, people fiddle with their GPS systems, their kids' movies, the radio, turn around to calm a screaming child, look at a map, or read the newspaper.
Wait... rewind... what?!
Yes, one "common" situation here in Israel is for people to catch up on their daily news whilst driving. I have seen it, from bus drivers of PUBLIC buses (Egged, are you listening? I don't see "certain death or bodily harm" listed under that "services" menu). I mean, are red lights seriously that boring? This in a country where the news comes on every radio station every hour - and some every half-hour. NOTHING has happened that will change your life since you last hear the news. Shocking, I know, but it's true.
Now, we have to work on a campaign to explain the difference between the gas pedal and the brake pedal.
Apparently, the powers that be have apparently caught on to the erratic driving tendencies of Israeli drivers. Right now there is an advertising campaign urging people not to do anything but drive while they're behind the wheel. On the radio, you'll hear a "common" situation, and until a couple of weeks ago, this would be followed by the sound of a crash, followed by a very solemn voice urging the driver not to do such things. The worst one was a father calling home to say goodnight to his young daughter before she went to bed, only to have her hear an accident and cry futilely "Abba... Abba?!" into the phone. The crash sound has recently disappeared, probably because of the cringe-factor.
I'll admit, some of these situations aren't specific to Israel. Especially the whole texting/talking on the cell phone bit. And I'm sure elsewhere, people fiddle with their GPS systems, their kids' movies, the radio, turn around to calm a screaming child, look at a map, or read the newspaper.
Wait... rewind... what?!
Yes, one "common" situation here in Israel is for people to catch up on their daily news whilst driving. I have seen it, from bus drivers of PUBLIC buses (Egged, are you listening? I don't see "certain death or bodily harm" listed under that "services" menu). I mean, are red lights seriously that boring? This in a country where the news comes on every radio station every hour - and some every half-hour. NOTHING has happened that will change your life since you last hear the news. Shocking, I know, but it's true.
Now, we have to work on a campaign to explain the difference between the gas pedal and the brake pedal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)