Now & Then

If Israel is my one, true love, Italy is the one that got away. The one that could never be. And so on...

And yet, perhaps it is no coincidence that both countries pull me. As my mother says, the sunlight in Italy is the closest thing the rest of the world has to the light in Jerusalem. The cobblestone paths of Israel and Italy's historic centers blend together. The magical ability to get lost going anywhere in both Jerusalem and Rome. The Mediterranean Sea. The love of food and coffee. The hand gesturing. The many accents. The big, curly hair.

And sometimes, when I walk by an old smoky building I am back at my host parents' Florentine flat on via Giacamo Medici.

Galipoli, Italy. Spring 2008

Nahlaot, Jerusalem. Summer 2012

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I have spent three summers in Israel, but this is my first September 12th in the Land of Milk and Honey. So far, I am loving it and I think the chagim (high holidays, Rosh HaShana through Sukkot) are set to be my favorite time of year in Israel.

First of all, the weather is quite lovely. It is starting to cool down, and by 5 pm or so it is already sweater weather. So it is a nice mix of summer in the morning and a chance to preview your fall wardrobe in the afternoon (even though I doubt so many other people in Jerusalem dream about back-to-school shopping and blazer season followed by chunky sweater season). On my walk home from work around 11 pm, it is chilly at first but by the time I make it to the tram, I am already warm again. It is nice to feel the crisp air, smell Jasmine plants and see flowering bushes overflow from gates and walls. For me, this is a truly Jerusalem sensation.

There is also a really festive atmosphere in Jerusalem. Israelis love to celebrate. Everyday, I see either a religious party or a birthday party or a bunch of people just celebrating for no reason. People are constantly barbequing in the parks and blasting dance music. Everyday here is a reason to eat cake. So when there is actually a real festival, it is quite exciting. Supermarkets are having special pricing. People sign their emails wishing a happy new year. Even store venders will wish you a happy new year. Outside the shuk, there is a booth selling stuff you might need for the chagim and for the year to come: pots and pans at a special price, tablecloths, sheets sets (for all the guests you will be hosting presumably), new years cards with French, English and Hebrew on them, calendars and more.

Which brings me to my next point: presents. The chagim are a great time because apparently people give and receive presents. It is also customary to buy yourself some new clothes, i.e. give yourself a new present. So there is a lot to love about that.

Last of all, there is some truly great seasonal produce going on here. You really realize that it is harvest season. I love seasonal things, they were one of my favorite parts about Italy. I loved hearing about the truffle mushroom harvest from my students in the vocational school and seeing my Florentine host mother whip up a cake with whatever was fresh, be in grapes during grape season or chestnut flour during chestnut season. Here, there are pomegranates literally everywhere in the shuk, and two types of long green beans. My guess is that one is sugar snap and the other is string beans, but when I talked to the vender at the shuk he said you had to cook both for about twenty minutes, so that doesn't sound like either. But he said that both types of ambiguous green beans are eaten this time of year and for the New Year. I also bought some special crystallized honey and one of my French roommates plans on making her Tunisian grandmother's special honey-sugar recipe.


All in all, this is a beautiful time of year and the chagim haven't even started. It is wonderful to see everyone getting excited and celebrating together. Next up: eating in a Sukkah at any ol' restaurant in Jerusalem.

sukka after sukka after sukkah

blurry view of sukkas over restaurants

post-sukkot etrogs on sale

Ps and Qs

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.

8 Days a Week

Because of Shabbat (Friday sundown to Saturday nightfall), everywhere in Israel has its own weekly rhythm, unique from anywhere else in the western world that I have been. Shabbat affects the whole country, even places that are considered "secular." Buses stop running. Like Sundays in Europe, most stores are closed on Saturday, even in Tel Aviv, although non-kosher restaurants and bars often stay open. Even all this aside, time in Israel definitely has its own way of going about.

Thursday is kind of like Saturday night--everyone goes out. Tables upon tables crammed into the streets (even up and down hills), tons of people walking around, everything open. In Jerusalem, this means that the several streets downtown that people go to are jam-packed. But Thursday is also special in its own right. Supermarkets stay open late to compensate for closing early on Friday, and if you look carefully, you can see bakeries preparing challah for Shabbat until the wee hours.

Bread Baking in the Basement of a Bakery on Yaffo Street

Friday, as I mentioned, is a great day to brunch. Also a terrible day to do kniyot (food shopping). It can get very hectic, but great deals can also be found in the rush to close for Shabbat.

And let's not forget Sunday. It is back to work, bright and early, for most of us. For many olim, this is the hardest part of all. But for others, this isn't the case. After the rush of Shabbat and then the calm, half the shuk's stalls are deserted. Just like everywhere else, sometimes people just want to take the day off.

Honey, I'm Home: A Countdown

I returned to Israel on Monday morning, bright and early. On Israel Time, somehow the week is fast approaching Shabbat. Here is a list of how and why I know I am back:

10. I had hardly been in the country one hour when I had my sanity questioned by an angry group taxi/ sheirut driver. "At NORMALIT?" he blared when I asked him to take me to the front of the apartment rather than the back (which seemed to have a locked gate). However, when I screamed back "Slicha, ani oleh chadasha!" (excuse me, I am a new immigrant!) he calmed down and may have even felt badly. He also argued with this girl on the way back to Jerusalem over the best route, but by the time she left they were already parting as old friends

9. An older married couple visiting from Haifa chatted with me on the tram. One of their first questions was, not if I was married but HOW MANY CHILDREN I had. They said, they love all of the people of Jerusalem (including me)

8. Another day (my first day back to work, no less!), there was a twenty minute delay on the tram, possibly because of an unidentified package that was left at the Central Bus Station which was being investigated. Unfortunately, security concerns part of everyday life in Jerusalem. Security precautions are one of the only things (perhaps the only thing) Israelis don't seem to argue and yell about that much

7. I bought delicious fresh bananas, nectarines and plums at the shuk, all for the ripe price of 9 shekles total (>$3!). I also passed a stand selling "shmeers" spelled out in hebrew letters

6. Speaking of food, I found amazing goat cheese in the Land of Milk&Honey, in the supermarket no less

5. In the same supermarket in the same Land of Milk&Honey, I also confused my white dairy products and wound up with sour cream (leben/לבן) instead of plain yogurt (lavan/לבן), not to be confused with a cream cheese spread of sorts (lavana/לבנה)

4. I had an extremely tasty freshly squeeze juice from the shuk made out of orange juice, carrot juice and ginger. Tasty! Another wining combination: dates and bananas. When I asked about the pomegranate, the juicer knowingly said to wait a few more days for them to come into season

3. I ran into a friend during my break at work on Bezalel Street, one of my favorite places in all of Jerusalem

2. 15 shekel shwarma at one AM

and... #1. I have had my pronunciation of my street name corrected twice by two different Israeli cab drivers. However, the first pronunciation was corrected by the second driver who insisted that the first pronunciation was the "American" accent. It seems Israelis can find a way to argue no matter what, even pending time and space. More power to them!

Hey, it feels good to be home!

Cafes, shops and tram tracks along Yaffo Street. Photo courtesy of my father, David Nechamkin

How to Eat an Israeli Breakfast

When I lived in New York, Sunday brunch was one of my favorite things to do. Lie in bed for a little and drink coffee/ watch TV, and then around 1 or 2 go meet a friend for brunch. Living in Williamsburg, the options were endless and I definitely grew an affinity for poached eggs. However, there were also pancakes and waffles made out of creative batter and interesting breakfast sandwich combinations galore.

Now that I have moved to Israel, one of my favorite things to do is still brunch—but rather than on Sunday, on Friday morning. In Israel, the workweek is Sunday-Thursday because of Shabbat so Friday is the time people really go out to brunch. I also notice people tend to go earlier—perhaps to avoid the pre-shabbat rush of shopping/ everything shutting down.

Israeli breakfast food is also not like American breakfast food. Waffles are available in limited places, but they are thought of more as dessert or snack food. Pancakes I have yet to see. Israeli breakfasts seem to favor eggs—either scrambled, fried (in Hebrew, they are called something like “eye” eggs) or alternatively poached in shakshuka.

Israeli breakfast traditionally includes “lavana”, like cream cheese but healthier; Israeli salad made of cucumbers and salad; bread; and more. This means that Israeli brunch combines the best of American breakfast (eggs) with Israeli food--delicious espresso, mezze and salads. SO, here is how to order an Israeli breakfast!

1)   choose the coffee drink you want (cappuccino, latte, or sometimes an iced latte at an extra cost)

2)   choose a type of fresh squeezed juice (options are generally orange, red grapefruit or carrot)

3)   eat a huge chunk of bread

4)   with.... dips for the bread (cheese, Israeli salad, more cheese, olives, guacamole, tomato dip and more)

5)   choose your main course (eggs)

6)   finish with a green salad if you have room!

My Friend Rachel with her Coffee, Empty Juice Glass,
 and Selection of 6 Dips Before the Main Course Has Arrived

Then the Main Course and Salad Arrives.

Sometimes places will put their own spin on things. I went to a bagel place in the Americanized German Colony (Jerusalem’s very own Upper West) and on their menu they had Spanish, Italian and French interpretations of Breakfast.  No matter what you choose, you leave full of fresh fruits and veggies and some protein-rich eggs. Well, at least I tell myself that... But what really makes Israeli brunch so impressive to me is that it is an endless meal at an insanely reasonable price: I have never seen Israeli breakfast for more than NIS60.00 (approximately USD15.00). To me, Israeli breakfast is the breakfast of champions.

Reading Rainbow

One of My Favorite Used Bookstores Downtown

Israelis love books. I have  heard that more books are published per capita in Israel than anywhere else in the world. There are bookstores EVERYWHERE. Jerusalem’s Central Bus Station, instead of pedaling knock-off handbags, has tables and tables of discounted books, as well as an actual bookstore.  Used bookstores dot the downtown streets, selling books in many languages. A café downtown is named after a work of literature by Shay Agnon and is filled to the ceiling with books. 
 

The other day I decided to pay a visit the Beit Vegan library which was a disorienting experience in itself. I wandered around Hertzl Street peering into residential buildings’ courtyards for some time. After giving up looking, I stumbled on the library by chance while trying to take a shortcut to the Beit Kerem shopping center.

The library is located within the neighborhood’s community center and once inside the mysterious big building, I stumbled again on the library by chance. In a country with so much security—getting into Jerusalem Central Bus Station requires a body scan and a bag scan—I was surprised that no one seemed curious about a random girl with a backpack wandering around.

And so at age 24, a Smith College graduate with a degree in Comparative Literature and Italian Language & Literature, I find myself scanning the selection of children’s books, even putting some books down because they seem too intimidating.

Learning Hebrew has been a humbling process. I do feel like I am getting better; people finally respond to me in Hebrew, I am able to bargain with vendors and taxi drivers and I speak exclusively in Hebrew with one of my roommates. But still, I have a long way to go. And nowhere is this clearer than when I am reduced to reading books written for the same age level as the kids I babysit (incidentally, they approve of my choices).

Choosing a children’s book was in itself a challenge. I have the reading level of an elementary schooler, but have more sophisticated tastes than that. Even when I started reading Italian, I was able to jump into young adult literature (and no one does teen romance novels better than the Italians). Here, if there aren’t nikudot (vowel points), I struggle. And many children’s books don’t even have those.

Israeli kids must like book series because the children’s section was full of them. There was a Star Wars series, which was tempting, a series about a boy explorer that looked very old skool and a series called “Ezeh Pakhad” which roughly translates to “That’s Scary!” or “What fear!” The “Ezeh Pakhad” book I read was about an 8 year old boy who hears about a monster that lives in the Kenneret. When his family decides to vacation in the Kenneret, the narrator’s neurosis are exposed. I really couldn’t help but think about Woody Allen. They say the sabra is strong, not like his wimpy American counterpart, but now I am not so sure.

"Ezeh Pachad"

StarWars

After reading about an 8 year old’s fears for an hour, I went to the Beit Kerem shopping center to pick up my dry cleaning. I passed a Stiemansky’s, an Israeli bookstore chain. They were having a promotion of four books for NIS100, I think in honor of Israel Book Week. Unlike in America, and surprising giving Israel’s sometimes-gruff customer service, employees are really helpful in bookstores in Israel. I explained to them that I am a new oleh (immigrant), aged 24 but with a low level of reading, and am going crazy reading children’s books. They suggested Etgar Keret, and Caster Bloom who I have never heard of. I was shown a beautiful collection of Keret’s short stories—shinny Tiffany’s blue cover, nice paper, not too long, but without nikudot. NIS79.

As much as I don’t want to spend the money, books are a sentimental thing for me. I still have the first real books I read in Italian and Spanish, and have taken the book that I translated for my final project in Italian Translation with me, across the ocean, to Israel. I would love to have the first adult book I will read in Hebrew displayed proudly in my bomb shelter room, resting next to classics as Open Heart, The Forsythe Saga, a commentary on the book of Shmuel, and of course Dod Arieh (Uncle Arieh), winner of the Israel Prize Award in Children’s Literature.