I am the grocery shopper in our house, for no real reason than I have Wednesdays off so it's easier for me to go. Also, there's a super right near my work so I can easily pick stuff up on the way home. The problem is, though, that I have to do it on my own.
Usually it turns out fine. I know most of the words and everything has big pictures on it. Sometimes I flub up. I've come home with trash bags three-sizes too big, or olives that were sliced and not pitted. Nothing horribly tragic, but annoying. The latest mistake came in the form of jam. I wanted peanut-butter, but they didn't have the generic brand and I wasn't about to spend 19₪ for a regular-sized jar. So I bought strawberry jam instead, as it's equally good on toast or for a quick sandwich.
Simon was less than pleased. Simon also likes to complain (he's Israeli) so I just brushed him off. It's something new that he didn't ask for, of course he has an opinion on it. I like strawberries, they didn't have peanut butter, I made an executive decision, and if he was going to be that picky he can do the bloody shopping himself. End of discussion.
Until I opened it today and tasted some. First of all, it's a color of red I've never seen in nature before and, I think, glows slightly. Second of all, it tastes the way dry erase markers smell, but mixed with pancake syrup and extract of Strawberry Jolly Rancher. I turned it over to look at the label...
Yeah. 60% sugar. I don't think it contains a single natural ingredient. My teeth still hurt.
31 March, 2012
26 March, 2012
What's in an email?
Most days, the political situation here (by which I mean Israel's pariah-like status in the Middle East) doesn't really enter my thinking. Whether that's because it's become so rote as to be ignorable or because it's more smoke-and-mirrors on the part of politicians (::coughthelattercough::) I don't know, but that's what it is. Every once in awhile, though, something happens that makes me a bit nervous. Today was one of those days.
23 March, 2012
Well, looks like my timing was pretty off.
When I started this, my workload was relatively light despite a few projects that were in the pipeline. In the past four months, though, I've gotten all kinds of professional and personal projects piling on, taking a few international work trips, and now am slated to be transferred back to the US for a 12-month contract for my job. In the Old South. Awesome.
So hence the reasons this blog never quite got off the ground. My return to the US will be mid-summer and, obviously, Simon won't be coming with me. We've done 10 months apart before, so I have no doubt we can pull off twelve. Then we'll see where we are: if I come back to Israel or if we go find somewhere else entirely to live. Professionally we'll both be in better places in a year's time, so who knows what the future holds.
We'll see if I get anywhere on this blog in the coming months before I head back State-side, though don't hold your breath. I'm already juggling enough, nevermind now having to plan a move and find housing, furniture, etc. a few thousand miles away, and Simon is pretty overworked himself. The time and energy needed to convert a pretty humdrum life to interesting blog posts just isn't available right now.
In the meantime, my Tumblr is queued up with some interesting reads about expat-ness and GLBT stuff in Israel. I'll keep that running, since it's pretty low maintenance, and am always available to answer questions, but blogging...just not in the schedule right now.
So hence the reasons this blog never quite got off the ground. My return to the US will be mid-summer and, obviously, Simon won't be coming with me. We've done 10 months apart before, so I have no doubt we can pull off twelve. Then we'll see where we are: if I come back to Israel or if we go find somewhere else entirely to live. Professionally we'll both be in better places in a year's time, so who knows what the future holds.
We'll see if I get anywhere on this blog in the coming months before I head back State-side, though don't hold your breath. I'm already juggling enough, nevermind now having to plan a move and find housing, furniture, etc. a few thousand miles away, and Simon is pretty overworked himself. The time and energy needed to convert a pretty humdrum life to interesting blog posts just isn't available right now.
In the meantime, my Tumblr is queued up with some interesting reads about expat-ness and GLBT stuff in Israel. I'll keep that running, since it's pretty low maintenance, and am always available to answer questions, but blogging...just not in the schedule right now.
14 February, 2012
Information at your fingertips
I'm a big proponent of technology. Heaven knows I depend on it for everything from communication to brainstorming to reminders. So, obviously, I have my iPod Touch loaded up with Israel-specific apps. Here are the apps I use on a more-or-less daily basis:
These are on top of the usual apps you'd use in any place you live, such as Skype or Evernote or the ubiquitous Facebook. I also don't have an iPhone, so I don't have apps that depend on having a constant connection to the internet, and these are just the apps I tend to use, so it's certainly not to say this is a be all, end all list. Not by any means. But these are my recommendations for what works for me. If you have any suggestions, for iOS or Android, leave them in the comments.
These are on top of the usual apps you'd use in any place you live, such as Skype or Evernote or the ubiquitous Facebook. I also don't have an iPhone, so I don't have apps that depend on having a constant connection to the internet, and these are just the apps I tend to use, so it's certainly not to say this is a be all, end all list. Not by any means. But these are my recommendations for what works for me. If you have any suggestions, for iOS or Android, leave them in the comments.
08 February, 2012
Navigating Simon's family can be a bit tricky.
Like more people, Simon came out to his family in stages: first his siblings, later his mother, and, about two or three years ago, his father.
His brother and sister are totally fine with us. I've been over to houses for dinners and weekends and the occasional New Year's Eve party. His mother is just "OK" with his being gay, and doesn't know what to do with me. Every time I'm at their house, she's very nice to me and, like any Jewish mother, feeds me until I can't walk anymore. And kudos to her, because it took her a long time to get even that far. And Simon's father...well, Simon's father doesn't quite know what to do with the "gay" thing, nevermind me. Needless to say, I've never met him.
Last Friday was no different. Before Simon's father got home from work, we went over to his parents' house. It was one of his niece's 6th birthday today, and they were having a little party for her. Upon entering, his niece (she of the birthday) proceeds to explain in detail her new birthday outfit, and how the sleeves of the sweater don't stay up when she puts her arms over her head. I am then literally almost bowled-over by his 5-year-old nephew, who ran out of a back bedroom and latched onto my leg (he likes me because I play with him a lot, mainly because I can't keep up with adult Hebrew but kid Hebrew is do-able). Then his other niece tottled out of the bedroom to see what the commotion was all about, saw me and Simon, giggled, and ran back into the bedroom. She just turned four.
New this week, though, was Simon's grandmother, who I had never met. Simon's mother's family is from Morocco, and came to Israel when Simon's mother was a teenager. Simon's grandmother is getting up there in age, and both her hearing and her mind are starting to go a bit. Because of this, she's forgotten much of her Hebrew, so all conversation with her has to be in loud, simple Hebrew or Arabic. Between my intermediate Hebrew and strong accent and her mixing of Arabic and Hebrew and strong accent, we didn't do much conversing. Even Simon shouting "THIS IS BEN" in Arabic took three or four tries before we're pretty sure she got it.
And so the afternoon went. After stuffing ourselves on schnitzel, peppers with spaghetti, and that spicy Moroccan tomato salad I can never remember the name of (I'm pretty sure it starts with an "m"), much of the rest of the time was spent playing Dora The Explorer matching games, freeze tag, and then putting a Yug-E-Oh puzzle together. And then I had to hang up a string of balloons because I was the only person in the house tall enough to reach the ceiling lamp*. Oh, and I almost fell off the chair and crushed Simon's grandmother. I don't think she noticed.
Around dinnertime we had some cake and coffee (oddly enough while watching Joan River's Fashion Police: Golden Globes Edition), and then Simon took me home in his parents' car on the way to going to fetch his father at work, which is how we usually run things when I come on Fridays. And then I came home to catch up on "Nikita" and Simon went back to have dinner with his family.
It's a bit hard for me, since I don't have any family here and only a limited group of friends in Tel Aviv. I feel like I should go out and meet people, but that's so much easier said than done.
*For reference, I'm 5'11"/1.80 metres.
22 January, 2012
So this just happened to me...
I was in the bathroom at work, peeing, when I hear the door open. My first thought, in all my paranoia, is that it's my boyfriend from down the hall. Then I hear all kind of rustling, and then the paper-towel dispenser open. It's about then that it dawns on me that it's the janitor, this mild-mannered Russian woman who minds our building and empties our trash, etc.
But here's the thing: I'm in the men's bathroom, with my wang in my hand, peeing, and there's a woman in the room. She doesn't say "hi" or acknowledge my existence, but just goes about her work, checking the toilet paper and whatever else she was doing (I had my back turned and was dying of awkwardness, so I didn't see). And I'm just standing there, peeing.
And that's when it occurred to me that it wasn't really awkward. She couldn't see anything (if there weren't those between-urinal dividers, I might have a different opinion), it wasn't really bothering me, and we both had stuff to get done. So I finished my business, washed my hands, and left, like it was a regular trip to the restroom. The restroom that just happened to have a middle-aged lady in it at the time.
I wouldn't have cared if it was a male janitor or another guy that had to use the restroom, why does it matter that it's a woman? Maybe Anglos are too uptight about formalities and boundaries and civility. For now, though, let's not push it beyond the occasional woman in the men's room, yeah?
But here's the thing: I'm in the men's bathroom, with my wang in my hand, peeing, and there's a woman in the room. She doesn't say "hi" or acknowledge my existence, but just goes about her work, checking the toilet paper and whatever else she was doing (I had my back turned and was dying of awkwardness, so I didn't see). And I'm just standing there, peeing.
And that's when it occurred to me that it wasn't really awkward. She couldn't see anything (if there weren't those between-urinal dividers, I might have a different opinion), it wasn't really bothering me, and we both had stuff to get done. So I finished my business, washed my hands, and left, like it was a regular trip to the restroom. The restroom that just happened to have a middle-aged lady in it at the time.
I wouldn't have cared if it was a male janitor or another guy that had to use the restroom, why does it matter that it's a woman? Maybe Anglos are too uptight about formalities and boundaries and civility. For now, though, let's not push it beyond the occasional woman in the men's room, yeah?
30 December, 2011
Thoughts on advertising
On the way to church on Sunday, there was one if those rotating billboards. You know, with the slats that turn and show three different signs? Anyway, one was for high-speed internet on your mobile phone. The second was for the grand opening of a Forever 21 store, which is wholly unnecessary and apparently a scene of complete madness (which doesn't surprise me at all). But there's already an Abercrombie & Fitch at Mamila in Jerusalem. Haven't we suffered enough already? But if Hollister shows up, I'm leaving.
And the third was for the new 3-D film "Puss in Boots", which I guess was a fairytale reference Israelis wouldn't get because they translated the title as "Shrek's Cat". Marketing creative license, I guess.
25 December, 2011
An Expat Xmas
Since I’m spending my fourth Christmas in a very Christmas-lacking
country, I’ve collected a smattering of music and videos and articles on my Tumblr to
supplement that and to create a nice Christmas-like holiday at least in
my own house.
So, in the spirit of Christmas, throughout the day I’ll share with you guys my Christmas things for those of you who are spending Christmas Day without a lot of Christmas atmosphere. I would have been more organized about this, but it occurred to me to do this this morning on the way to church so, in true Israeli fashion, it’s a bit slapdash and last minute.
חג אורים וחנוכה שמח!
ميلاد مجيد!
Happy Christmas, everyone!
So, in the spirit of Christmas, throughout the day I’ll share with you guys my Christmas things for those of you who are spending Christmas Day without a lot of Christmas atmosphere. I would have been more organized about this, but it occurred to me to do this this morning on the way to church so, in true Israeli fashion, it’s a bit slapdash and last minute.
חג אורים וחנוכה שמח!
ميلاد مجيد!
Happy Christmas, everyone!
23 December, 2011
The Pink Elephant in the Room
So there's this guy at my office who works down the hall from me who is gay. Well, I'm pretty sure he's gay. You know how you just know when someone is gay, just from looking at them or hearing their voice? That. Like, sterotypical enough to be say, "yeah, gay". Also, my gaydar is awesome. Correction: my American gaydar is awesome, and he's American. My Israeli gaydar sucks. But that's a blog post for another day. But there's a bit of a problem.
This guys works down the hall from my office, and we both have "pinged" each other (I'm pretty sure) so we both know the other is there, but we work for different departments so there's no real reason we would actually have to talk to each other. It's not like if someone walked in wearing a New York Steelers hat and you could go, "You like the Steelers? Me too! I love hockey", and take it from there*. You can't really pop into someone's office and go, "Yeah, cocksucking. So, how's that working out for you?". I mean, you could but I'm pretty sure you'd get fired, even in Israel.
The other thing is that I have to walk by his office to go to the bathroom, the kitchenette, and the elevator, so the whole situation is just very there. My nightmare is that I'm in the restroom having a slash and then he comes in, because if you're the only two people in the room then you have to acknowledge each other in some fashion; you can't just ignore the other person without the awkwardness exponentially increasing. Plus, doing introductions with your dick in your hand is not only mortifying but also pretty unhygienic. And, gay guys and pensises and public restroom are such a cliche that I would probably get the giggles, which would make me seem insane.
I had a similar situation when worked at a hotel in Jerusalem. There was an Arab guy who worked there, and we kept kind of scoping each other out, and I was pretty sure he was gay but I never really had the opportunity to talk to him because I worked at the bar and he worked in maintenance. And when we finally had the opportunity to hang out for a bit (we weren't all drinking vodka in the front office as a going-away party for someone, I swear), it turns out he's bi. And that was great, because then we knew we had a compatriot in the building, even though we never really interacted at all. It was just nice knowing you're not the only one. There's a certain comfort in that.
I don't know this guy that works down the hall. I'm not saying I want to be besties with him or anything. I just want to figure out how to break the gay ice, so to speak. I keep hoping we run into each other at a socially acceptable place, like the elevators or kitchenette or something (drinking vodka in secret at work), and can engage in a bit of small talk to get the introductions out of the way. But until then, the Pink Elephant roams the hall freely.
*I do in fact realize I mixed sports, teams, and cities there.
This guys works down the hall from my office, and we both have "pinged" each other (I'm pretty sure) so we both know the other is there, but we work for different departments so there's no real reason we would actually have to talk to each other. It's not like if someone walked in wearing a New York Steelers hat and you could go, "You like the Steelers? Me too! I love hockey", and take it from there*. You can't really pop into someone's office and go, "Yeah, cocksucking. So, how's that working out for you?". I mean, you could but I'm pretty sure you'd get fired, even in Israel.
The other thing is that I have to walk by his office to go to the bathroom, the kitchenette, and the elevator, so the whole situation is just very there. My nightmare is that I'm in the restroom having a slash and then he comes in, because if you're the only two people in the room then you have to acknowledge each other in some fashion; you can't just ignore the other person without the awkwardness exponentially increasing. Plus, doing introductions with your dick in your hand is not only mortifying but also pretty unhygienic. And, gay guys and pensises and public restroom are such a cliche that I would probably get the giggles, which would make me seem insane.
I had a similar situation when worked at a hotel in Jerusalem. There was an Arab guy who worked there, and we kept kind of scoping each other out, and I was pretty sure he was gay but I never really had the opportunity to talk to him because I worked at the bar and he worked in maintenance. And when we finally had the opportunity to hang out for a bit (we weren't all drinking vodka in the front office as a going-away party for someone, I swear), it turns out he's bi. And that was great, because then we knew we had a compatriot in the building, even though we never really interacted at all. It was just nice knowing you're not the only one. There's a certain comfort in that.
I don't know this guy that works down the hall. I'm not saying I want to be besties with him or anything. I just want to figure out how to break the gay ice, so to speak. I keep hoping we run into each other at a socially acceptable place, like the elevators or kitchenette or something (drinking vodka in secret at work), and can engage in a bit of small talk to get the introductions out of the way. But until then, the Pink Elephant roams the hall freely.
*I do in fact realize I mixed sports, teams, and cities there.
20 December, 2011
Instant holiday!
This morning we were out of cereal, so I made a generic-Nutella and peanut butter sandwich. Thing was, I running late so I ate it on the way to the bus stop, after I brushed my teeth with peppermint toothpaste. Do you know what a chocolate and peanut butter with overtones of peppermint tastes like?
Christmas. Delicious, delicious Christmas.
Christmas. Delicious, delicious Christmas.
18 December, 2011
"Just...hear...those..."
My mother sent a box of Christmas decorations. They arrived today. I've already loaded up my iPod with all my Christmas music, and my flash drive is filled with Christmas movies. Simon is hoping there will be cookies. I'm hoping there will be tinsel. Either way, our house is about to get Christmas-fied. Finally.
Just don't tell the neighbors.
Just don't tell the neighbors.
15 December, 2011
I have some really absurd fears, living in this country.
One of them is going to the hospital. But not just going to the hospital, going to the hospital under really sketchy circumstances. For example: yesterday, I was cleaning the apartment since I had a day off. One task was mopping the floor. So as not to get any cleaning detergent on my clothes, and since it was pretty warm, I stripped down to my underwear and a tie-dyed tank top that I had slept in.
So I’m happily mopping along, listening to the radio, when Single Ladies comes on. Now, obviously, no one who is home alone can listen to Single Ladies and not shake their booty at least a little bit. So that’s what I was doing: a bit of dancing while mopping the tile floors with soapy water in my tie-dyed underwear.
So I’m happily mopping along, listening to the radio, when Single Ladies comes on. Now, obviously, no one who is home alone can listen to Single Ladies and not shake their booty at least a little bit. So that’s what I was doing: a bit of dancing while mopping the tile floors with soapy water in my tie-dyed underwear.
Obviously, you can see where this is going.
Of course, I almost slip and, as I’m almost crashing to the floor, what flashes through my mind is the scenario where Simon comes home to find me bleeding to death on the floor and has to rush me to the hospital or call an ambulance, and I regain consciousness in the hospital as a Russian nurse is asking my boyfriend questions about why I’m covered in blood, wearing only a tie-dyed tank top and boxer-briefs, wet, and smelling vaguely of mountain freshness. And that, no matter how rational and accurate our explanation may be, she says something like, “well, you boys should be more careful next time; those towel racks come right out of the wall”.
Because worse than having to go to the ER for a sex-related injury is having to go to the ER for a non-sex-related injury that looks like a sex-related injury.
Of course, I almost slip and, as I’m almost crashing to the floor, what flashes through my mind is the scenario where Simon comes home to find me bleeding to death on the floor and has to rush me to the hospital or call an ambulance, and I regain consciousness in the hospital as a Russian nurse is asking my boyfriend questions about why I’m covered in blood, wearing only a tie-dyed tank top and boxer-briefs, wet, and smelling vaguely of mountain freshness. And that, no matter how rational and accurate our explanation may be, she says something like, “well, you boys should be more careful next time; those towel racks come right out of the wall”.
Because worse than having to go to the ER for a sex-related injury is having to go to the ER for a non-sex-related injury that looks like a sex-related injury.
08 December, 2011
Israel and the Color Pink
Israel has published a website touting it's record on gay rights and the GLBT community in Israel. Some of this has been met with derision and accusations of "pinkwashing" while other call these accusations nonsense. I think that both have interesting points, and there is something to note when the far-far-right Avigdor Lieberman suddenly becomes the GLBT community's best friend, but I don't know politics enough to know if there's truely "pinkwashing" going on or if Israel is just doing PR. But this sudden chumminess of the Israeli government, especially the current one, with the GLBT community makes me a bit skeptical.
The claim that Tel Aviv is the gay center of the Middle East is absolutely true; there is nowhere else in the Middle East that has an open gay community like that in Tel Aviv, that has the protection of the government, and that has laws explicitly providing equality to GLBT people. That is 100% correct. There are gay bars here, nightly GLBT parties at various clubs, the national gay rights organization Agudah and adjoined café, the annual GLBT film festival and pride parade, youth outreach programs, the Israel AIDS Taskforce; all located in Tel Aviv. There isn't even a "gay-borhood" in Tel Aviv, which I think says a lot to how integrated the GLBT community is into the wider community.
But, on the same hand, being the "gay capital of the Middle East" is a pretty low bar to clear considering most Arab countries still outlaw homosexuality, akin to saying you've got the biggest dick in the room if you're the only man standing in a nunnery. It's also a bit irrelevant since Tel Aviv is essentially off-limits to most Middle Easterners, due in part to Israel's own policies. Indeed, the one gay Arab population Israel could actively help, Palestinians, are forbidden from entering Israel or applying for asylum for any reason, including due to persecution based to their sexual orientation. So to call yourself the gay capital of the Middle East when most Middle Eastern gays can't come to it, and when you actively prevent Middle Eastern gays from coming to it, makes the title ring a bit hollow and feels more like stam marketing than a genuine effort.
06 December, 2011
Shushi!
I have never been a fan of reality television; in fact, I can't think of one reality series that I watched with any regularity (though Rich's ANTM re-caps almost changed that). However, Simon somehow got it in his head that we simply had to watch the Israeli version of "The Amazing Race", which translates to "The Race for a Million (Shekels)". I reluctantly agreed, as I figured it would be good practice for my Hebrew.
Thing is: totally addicting. And it's on twice a week, too, which makes it worse (better?). They picked really good teams, so it's really more about the people than the race itself, which is probably the point. At first we were rooting for Shira and Firas, for obvious reasons, but they've since been eliminated.
So now we're torn: we like Alon and Oren because they're smart; Bar and Ina because they're ridiculous but surprisingly capable; Osi and Carmit, because they are Yemeni and made of awesome; and Tom and Adele, because he's dumb as a brick and she mocks him for it.
There's also Akiva and Anahel, the religious couple who are kind of annoying and too lovey-dovey and Anahel uses her pet-name for her husband, "Shushi", without reserve, as has been remixed in the above video. I don't think either of us would be too sad if they were eliminated...
But it's kind of fun to watch them.
05 December, 2011
Why Are They So Angry? | The Prospect
“High-pitched as Israeli political disputes are—and as eager as the Israeli parliamentary right is to restrict dissent, an Israeli dove visiting Jewish North America can still feel that he’s stumbled into a constricted, out-of-joint alternate universe. The moderate Israeli left’s argument that West Bank settlements undermine democracy and peace efforts is sometimes greeted in the U.S. as treasonous, sometimes as daringly unconventional. Ideas that have gone extinct in Israel still wander the American landscape, as if it were a Jurassic Park of the mind. What’s going on?” (source)I’ve seen this disconnect and felt its resulting frustration many, many times, from foreigners, Jews and Palestinians alike, who arrive in Israel with an ideology that is completely disconnected from the “boots-on-the-ground” reality; almost like their reality is mitigated by their ideology instead of vice versa. In many ways, I think people (especially those in the diaspora) build their identities around their ideologies, making those ideologies completely rigid and intractable. I guess it’s that kind of thinking that gives FOX News an audience, wherein reality becomes debatable if I don’t like what you say.
And it’s sad, because that rigidness so detrimental to everyone involved.
02 December, 2011
"Don't Go To Strangers, Lover Come To Me"
The Israeli government has stepped in it again. The Ministry of Absorption released a campaign in the US aimed at Israelis living abroad, encouraging them to return to Israel before they become too assimilated. It was initiated in I think five places where there are large contingents of Israeli expats, including New York City, Los Angeles, and Palo Alto. The campaign apparently consists of billboards with phrases like "Before 'motek' becomes 'honey'" and "Before 'aba' becomes 'daddy'", warning of the dangers of...speaking English, I guess.
The billboards are accompanied by videos which are so melodramatic and heavy-handed (Israelis are not known to be subtle) as to be comical. The tagline is: "They'll always be Israeli. Their children won't. Help them return to Israel", complete with sad piano music and the requisite sense of fear and foreboding that Israelis are so well-trained to respond to.
Aside from portraying Israelis themselves as lazy (if your kid doesn't know what Hanukkah is, it's no one's fault but your own)*, oblivious (I hope your kid knows the word for "fire" in Hebrew, Dad), and socially inept (hey, Dafna: stop creepily staring at the graphic of a candle and explain to your boyfriend what Yom Hazikaron is; he's American, not retarded), it insinuates that Americans and American culture are incompatible not only with being Israeli but with being truly Jewish. You can imagine how American Jews feel about that...
The billboards are accompanied by videos which are so melodramatic and heavy-handed (Israelis are not known to be subtle) as to be comical. The tagline is: "They'll always be Israeli. Their children won't. Help them return to Israel", complete with sad piano music and the requisite sense of fear and foreboding that Israelis are so well-trained to respond to.
Aside from portraying Israelis themselves as lazy (if your kid doesn't know what Hanukkah is, it's no one's fault but your own)*, oblivious (I hope your kid knows the word for "fire" in Hebrew, Dad), and socially inept (hey, Dafna: stop creepily staring at the graphic of a candle and explain to your boyfriend what Yom Hazikaron is; he's American, not retarded), it insinuates that Americans and American culture are incompatible not only with being Israeli but with being truly Jewish. You can imagine how American Jews feel about that...
"The idea, communicated in these ads, that America is no place for a proper Jew, and that a Jew who is concerned about the Jewish future should live in Israel, is archaic, and also chutzpadik (if you don't mind me resorting to the vernacular). The message is: Dear American Jews, thank you for lobbying for American defense aid (and what a great show you put on at the AIPAC convention every year!) but, please, stay away from our sons and daughters."The reaction of diaspora Jews is a little more complex than that, depending on if you're reading the more conservative Ynet or the more liberal Haaretz talkbacks sections. I'm not going to wade into that issue, because a) I'm not Jewish, and b) given the tone of this blog entry already, do I really need to? What I think is interesting is what this says about Israel and, more importantly, Israelis.
26 November, 2011
Things About Israelis Which Confuse Me, #8012
Black Friday sales. Which make absolutely no sense. They have a consuming-laden event (despite not being a consumer-driven culture...yet) that falls the day after a national holiday they don't have (Thanksgiving) and which kicks off the shopping season for a religious holiday they don't celebrate (Christmas). I wish I had a camera phone, because the advert was actually written "BLACK FRIDAY SALE" in English in giant letters, which just makes it all the more odd.
I asked a few people about it and they had no idea what it was, aside from a sale. No idea why it was called that, where it came from, nothing; just adopted directly from American culture with no context. Kind of like I had to explain to people that those red felt hats with the white fur and puff-ball on the end are in fact Santa hats, and no where but Israel do people wear them for Sylvester (aka New Year's Eve).
It's just odd to see things here which are so blatantly out of place, yet trying to be shoehorned in with such fervour.
I asked a few people about it and they had no idea what it was, aside from a sale. No idea why it was called that, where it came from, nothing; just adopted directly from American culture with no context. Kind of like I had to explain to people that those red felt hats with the white fur and puff-ball on the end are in fact Santa hats, and no where but Israel do people wear them for Sylvester (aka New Year's Eve).
It's just odd to see things here which are so blatantly out of place, yet trying to be shoehorned in with such fervour.
25 November, 2011
Introduction
I’ve been meaning to start a blog for a while but, to be
honest, I’m really bloody tired. All the time. It’s part of the
immigration process, I guess…that and working two jobs plus studying.
And I don’t really have anything to say, honestly.
So why this blog? Well, the process of immigrating to another country is very difficult and it’s not always easy to find support. This is especially true for non-Jews coming to Israel, where the plethora of government and community programs aimed at new arrivals is off-limits to us. Add to that the layer of being a bi-national couple, and a gay bi-national couple at that, and available resources are few and far between.
So what I hope to do here is have some internet presence where I can write a bit and post things, compile practical information, and people can ask questions and we can share information. Whether this is a proper “blog”, as such, with regular postings and whatnot, I don’t know. And I’ll probably throw in a smattering of other random stuff, too, just for shits and giggles.
We’ll just see how it goes, eh?
So why this blog? Well, the process of immigrating to another country is very difficult and it’s not always easy to find support. This is especially true for non-Jews coming to Israel, where the plethora of government and community programs aimed at new arrivals is off-limits to us. Add to that the layer of being a bi-national couple, and a gay bi-national couple at that, and available resources are few and far between.
So what I hope to do here is have some internet presence where I can write a bit and post things, compile practical information, and people can ask questions and we can share information. Whether this is a proper “blog”, as such, with regular postings and whatnot, I don’t know. And I’ll probably throw in a smattering of other random stuff, too, just for shits and giggles.
We’ll just see how it goes, eh?
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