Over the
past few days, I have been asked my age three times,
held a Haredi woman’s baby on the tram (not the first time either I have been asked
to play temporary babysitter in Jerusalem), discussed with a cab driver how
being Shomer Shabbat affected his career as a policeman and had a waitress compliment my friend’s glasses, ask her where
she got them and how much they cost.
"Behavior of the natives" and "customs of the land" are constantly discussed by new olim. Just the other day, I talked about the differences of manners in Europe, America and Israel with one of my French roommates. All this
begs the question, what exactly are manners in this Jerusalem-stone jungle I
find myself in? What are the rules of the game? From what I gather, apparently it is not rude to ask someone's age and it is dumb to the point of being offensive to wait in line patiently.
For some, Israel has a
wild sort of atmosphere. Personal space is metaphorically and literally invaded. People
push and don’t say “excuse me” unlike in New York where people push, say
“excuse me” and then continue to push. Sometimes it feels like everything is a
fight. At the bank, I am constantly begging to get any information about my
account, am offered water when I show up sweaty (it’s a 15 min walk uphill
under the hot Middle Eastern sun) and am obliged to listen to my bank teller
lament about it being too hot outside for her party that is set to take place in just a few hours. Other times
I am told (not asked) to put money into a savings account even though the
majority of Israelis are in the red zone. And yet today, my bank teller was
really helpful, above and beyond, when I asked her for help as an olah chadasha, even calling up VISA when I had a question about a charge and
offering to get it cancelled for me. As much as I genuinely love the impersonal
smiles Bank of America, you don’t get that type of help outside of
Israel.
People,
especially Anglos, seem to complain a lot about Israeli manners, how they could
never get used to life there (here). P.J. O’Rourke in his typical good-natured
stereotyping writes in his travel memoir Vacations
from Hell:
The larger the
German body, the smaller the German bathing suit and the louder the German
voice issuing German demands and German orders to everybody who doesn’t speak
German. For this, and several other reasons, Germany is known as “the land
where Israelis learned their manners”
(Definitively
a new spin on the Israel-Germany relationship for those who claim Israeli
exists only as consequence of the Holocaust. But I digress…). And sometimes it’s
true—sometimes I would prefer it if the fruit vendor at the shuk didn’t make
fun of me or my bank teller just smiled at me dully. And yet, perhaps because so many
normal boundaries blur here, Israel almost feels like a socialist utopia where
anything could happen. Israelis can be blunt, rude, aggressive. But after living here for about a year, I have toughened up and learned how to react. And, on the flip side, Israelis can be the most generous, genuine, open-minded and helpful people anywhere. In fact, I have even seen Israelis yelling (being blunt, rude, aggressive) when someone didn't give up his seat on the tram for a pregnant woman.
In Jerusalem, you aren’t afraid of talking to other people, of asking for help, of looking at someone else in the eye. Kids play in the streets unsupervised. If you are a 50 agurot short it is ok. There is a certain spontaneity in everyday life here, freedom in knowing that no matter what people will care if something really bad happens, that you can always find a ride or someone’s phone to borrow if yours dies. Someone will even be there to take care of your child should you need to pop open the stroller on a crowded tramcar.
In Jerusalem, you aren’t afraid of talking to other people, of asking for help, of looking at someone else in the eye. Kids play in the streets unsupervised. If you are a 50 agurot short it is ok. There is a certain spontaneity in everyday life here, freedom in knowing that no matter what people will care if something really bad happens, that you can always find a ride or someone’s phone to borrow if yours dies. Someone will even be there to take care of your child should you need to pop open the stroller on a crowded tramcar.
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