The second sign is that you start to feel disapproval of various of sectors of society; the ultra-religious, the ultra-secular, the Arabs, the Russians, the Americans... etc etc etc.
The last two weeks have been packed with such experiences, in which we've met a lot of people, been to a lot of places, and explored various facets of Israeli society.
Based on what's going on around me right now, I'll work backwards.
Right this second, it's 11pm on Sunday 17th January 2010. We're in Jerusalem, and outside is raging a fierce storm; it's downpouring, the lightning is blinding, and the rumbling thunder is almost continuous. Watching the Israelis sheltering under their umbrellas, or better yet, under the entirely metal bus stops during lightning storms makes one question the level of physics education in this country.
Yesterday, we were staying with my cousins Beryl and Pinchas on Kibbutz Degania Bet, the oldest kibbutz still operating, and by far the most relaxing escape I've ever encountered. But during our stay, we had a little trip to the shores of Yam Kineret (The Sea of Galilee), formerly Israel's primary water source, as well as a fantastic tourist trap for Christian pilgrims who wish to try their luck at walking on it. In the technological age, those people who care can follow the day to day level of Yam Kineret online at www.mekorot.co.il, but frankly, there isn't much point these days.
When Yam Kineret is at its highest level, which last happened in 2003, flood gates are opened, allowing torrents to pass into the Jordan River, filling the valley and flowing - depending on how much water gets through - all the way to the Dead Sea. But, each year since then, the level has dropped, dropped more, and dropped again. The 'red line' marked the point beyond which the water level would be considered 'dangerously low'. When that line was passed several years ago, with no sign of enough rain (or enough water conservation) to replenish the lake, the 'new' red line was created... and passed. The 'black line' marked the point at which the entire pumping system which gathered water from the lake to distribute to the country would be left high and dry. Now, even the new, deeper pumps are left out of the water, the Jordan River has been completely dammed off, and still the level remains so low that instead of 'Yam Kineret', Israelis cynically refer to the lake as 'Yaar Kineret' (Galilee Forest), given the trees now growing on land that was once at the bottom of a lake.
Coming back from our respite in Degania involves a bus journey. Buses in Israel are a fantastic place to people -watch. Deborah and I have a fun game to pass the time; What's that nation? Before a person opens their mouth, it's often possible to guess the ethnic origin of the person, based on clothes, make-up, demeanour, facial expression, effort involved in pushing onto the bus, amount of luggage, travel companions and odour. The nuances of an American who has lived in Israel for twenty years, compared to a Frenchman who came last week, or an Arab who has decided to integrate into Israeli society, versus one who clings with every thread of existence to his own national identity, is profound.
On this particular bus journey, we were privvy to a typical example of such a culture clash. Sat in front of us when we boarded was a seemingly sweet religious Jewish boy, perhaps ten years old, travelling along to Jerusalem. He took out his junior softback version of Talmud Bavli (the Babylonian Talmud) and began studying. In fact, being one of the first buses to operate after shabbat went out, most of the busload were observant individuals who had spent shabbat in Tiberias (one of Judaisms four holiest cities - along with Tzfat, Hebron and, of course, Jerusalem). One stop along our journey through the Galilee, the bus filled with more people, and disaster struck; a woman - yes, that's correct, a woman - asked to sit next to the boy. He initially refused, and told her to sit elsewhere, but as no where was available, she sat next to him anyway. The horror on his face was soon hidden as he tried to conceal himself from her, pulling his baseball cap low over his face, pulling his coat high up to his chin, and sinking down in his seat, while ensuring a safety gap between the two. Before long, he was on his mobile phone, crying to mummy in Hebrew. 'I tried to stop her but she wouldn't sit anywhere else... There's no room on the floor [I assume his mum has suggested he sit on the floor at this point]... I can't concentrate, and I can't do my learning...'
I need to make absolutely clear that this event was as astonishing and disgusting to most Israelis as it probably is to you; most of us on the bus, including the woman - a secular Arab - found it quite amusing. Orthodoxy at times considers mixed seating to be inappropriate and, where possible, to be avoided; such as during prayer, but generally speaking, people are realistic, and basic manners prevail. A new creation in Jerusalem is the 'Mehadrin Bus'; an extremely antagonistic and controversial phenomenon, of buses with separate seating for men and women. They currently only run on routes to the main holy sites, and opposition to them is fierce. Symbolically, one of the main points of contention is that men sit at the front of the bus, while women sit at the back; if some buses reversed this to allow women at the front, or perhaps had left for men, right for women, people would perhaps be less enraged by a bus system better suited to Saudi Arabia than a Western Democractic state. Still, Deborah and I are yet to come across a bus where we cannot sit together.
At the other extreme of Israeli culture, and equally uncomfortable, is the strongly secular population, best demonstrated by our trip to Eilat last week.
Eilat is the southernmost point of Israel, on the Red Sea, at the bottom of the desert, next to Egypt and Jordan, and a short distance north of Saudi Arabia. 4 hours drive from Jerusalem, one arrives in a miniature Las Ve
gas. Sprawling hotels adorn the shore, accompanied by dozens of restaurants, bars, nightclubs and the associated clientele. Phone booths (and the streets) are littered with business cards, where voluptuous women advertise their special massages, without any suggestion of a legitimate qualification. (I wanted to test out one of these massages so I could put on the blog if they were any good, but Deborah didn't seem keen). People tout boat trips, snorkelling, SCUBA, SNUBA, camel rides, trips to Petra in Jordan... basically anything that will encourage tourists to part with their money.We got a fantastic deal at the Dan Panorama - one of the more reputable hotels in town. Like all Israeli hotels, it is kosher by law. But, the same cannot be said for Eilat as a whole, and finding places to eat and drink was amazingly difficult. In a town where tourism is by far the main income, it is perhaps understandable that businesses choose to break shabbat to remain open on Saturday - the busiest tourist day in Israel, and in doing so automatically become disqualified from being kosher, even if all their food is considered kosher. However, the number of places serving food that was totally prohibited was surprising; restaurant chains considered to be of the highest level of religious standing in Jerusalem would sell cheeseburgers (meat and milk can never be eaten together) and on occasion shellfish, in Eilat. Worse still, some restaurants claimed to be kosher, and even print so on their menus, but still serve the same treif (non-kosher) food. Why? Simply because they do not care, and the word 'kosher' will bring in ignorant tourists who trust them. Those who run, and frequent, these restaurants are generally speaking either totally secular Jews, or non-Jews. But as testified by the Hebrew menus listing the varieties of treif available, many of those non-Jews are people who have come to live in Israel under the law of return.
The Law of Return is the section of Israeli law that gives all Jews the right to return to their historical homeland. However, nothing here is straightforward. Created in the wake of the Holocaust, Israel established itself as a safe place for all those who were persecuted by the Nazis' antisemitic mission. In Jewish law, Judaism is passed maternally - in other words, someone is Jewish if their mother was Jewish, or their mother's mother, etc. The Nazis considered that anyone with a single Jewish grandparent must be exterminated, and so Israel took this as the definition required to make aliyah. So, somone who by Jewish law is not Jewish, who does not practice any of the religion and who has married someone not Jewish, with non-Jewish children, is entitled to move to Israel, along with his family, his wife's extended family, and any other reasonably close relatives. So, one non-Jewish person can use the policies of the Nazis to bring a dozen or more non-Jewish people to Israel. It is impossible to count the number of non-Jewish people who have become Israeli citizens in this way, but the impact on the country is profound; a paradigm of this was on New Year's eve, when Deborah and I returned home at half two in the morning, to find party music rumbling 4 floors up in the building (Russians seem to like base on their trance music). By half three, I'd had enough and went to ask the culprits to turn down the 'music'. When the door was opened to me, I was greeted by the sight of four very very drunk Russians, two of whom were wearing crucifixes, dancing around a Christmas tree. Whether they were too intoxicated to find the volume control, or just chose to keep on partying, we didn't get much sleep that night.
On the flip side, Christianity brings a huge amount of positive influence to Israel. Primarily based in America's bible belt, large populations of Christians have long left behind the old claims that 'The Jews killed Jesus', and now strongly support not only the existence of Israel, but the Jews' right to return here. Granted, the reasons for this vary from the humourous to the scary, but nonetheless their help is appreciated. Some believe simply that the Old Testament shows we are G-d's chosen people and what is prophesised in the Old Testament must (and is) coming true. Others believe that our return will bring Armageddon - the end of the world - at which point Jesus will come back and save everyone and we'll all live happily ever after. Other are politically motivated and consider Islamisation of the world a danger, to which Israel remains a bastion of Western Democracy and forward thinking. Finally, there are those who view involvement in the Jewish homeland a great opportunity to preach and encourage Jews to convert.
The Christian Friends of Israel is a wealthy international charity, that is perhaps understandably met with caution and mistrust. As well as helping to locate and then relocate in Israel the remaining small Jewish communities from Eastern Europe before they fully assimilate, they also provide services in Israel for olim (immigrants). These range from providing kitchen equipment, to a free wedding dress hire system, to clothing, and shopping vouchers. The catch? Well, they say there isn't one. After much deliberation, Deborah and I approached them for some pans. They greeted us with open arms, explaining in the thickest Russian accent outside of Goldeneye that they 'truly and deeply love all Jews and want to help them all come home'. We were offered a 'tanach' (The Jewish bible) but politely declined this on the grounds that we already own one, rather than risking taking possession of a different bible that we would not be able to keep.... Either way, their help to new immigrants is not to be sniffed at.
So, back to us. This week marks the end of the 'honeymoon' period. Our three weeks of integration and setting up are over, and today marked the start of our Ulpan, or intensive Hebrew course. Each of the 250 participants completed a multiple choice comprehension, wrote an essay, and had an oral exam, through which they were categorised to a Hebrew level, from aleph (learning to read and write) to daled (almost fluent). Deborah and I are waiting to hear where we'll be placed, when things start properly on Tuesday. Our meagre existence, surviving on a couple of pans and a cheap kettle will soon be superceded by the twice-daily catered stodge of ulpan meals. The relative low fat and low carb diet will be no more, and the double-digit waist sizes will be a thing of the past. As Deborah and I enter a phase of life where our studying is 30 second roll from our bed, and we have no need to leave the campus besides the occasional trip to buy milk and cereal, we will need to ensure a concerted effort to avoid living in the ulpan bubble, and to continue to mingle with the real world.
These three weeks have been a suitably gentle start to our time here. We've travelled, made friends, reconnected with old ones, and developed something of a routine. To those of you who will follow in our footsteps, make sure you allow enough time to settle before your ulpan starts; the last thing you want is to start to build your life up while working each day.
Adam and Deborah's top tips for your first days of aliyah:
1. No doesn't mean no. It's a starting point for negotiations.
2. If coming to an absorption centre, remember that they give you NOTHING. Bring bedding, including pillows, and be prepared to go out for breakfast the next morning.
3. When people offer you special deals for olim, they mean one of two things. Either they are offering you a great deal because they want to welcome you, or they are trying to rip you off because they think they can. If they tell you it's an offer that is for today only, walk away. It'll either still be there tomorrow, or it was too good to be true.
4. Arrive early to give yourself time to settle before you get responsibilities like work or ulpan.
5. Put in the effort to meet people early on - every contact is a friend or a work contact later on.
6. Everywhere you go, ask for an oleh or a student discount.
7. Plan everything you possibly can before you, but then be prepared for everything to appear chaotic on arrival.
8. Be excited because you're coming, not because you're leaving.
9. When being told anything, from politics to bus routes, get a second and a third opinion before making up your mind.
10. Every so often, stop, take a breath, and remind yourself why you're here and how lucky you are.
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