I love that when I’m in Israel I forget that some people share names, just like the in US. Back in LA/Chicago I know a pantload of Daniels, Sarahs, and even fellow Sam(antha)s, but this doesn’t seem to bother me. “Well of course I’m in a group of 10 people and 3 of them are called Dan. Of COURSE!” I think to myself. But when I’m in Israel I hear two people named Dorit or Yael or Lior or Tomer or Or, and I freak the fuck out. “No!” I cry to myself, “THAT girl is Soshi, you can’t possibly be Shoshi too!” Someone named Rotem is on TV, and I yell, “But you’re not my army heir!!!”
Proportionally speaking, there are probably the same amount of Dans my age in America as there are Avis my age in Israel, but for some reason I notice it more in Israel. Maybe because I’m not used to the names here, so every name here seems special and unique to me, even if it’s one of the 10 most popular names in Israel.
Another thing I love about this country? Biteavon. Bon appetit. Enjoy your meal. I leave work for my lunch break and I get a chorus of “Biteavon”s. I pass people I know on my way to the dining hall. They ask, “Where are you going?” and when I tell them I’m going to the dining hall, they call out, “Biteavon!” A woman serves me a piece of meat with, “Biteavon.” I go to pay for my food and the guys who ring you up say, “Biteavon!” Even if they’re working at the other register, they make sure to say it to EVERYONE. I sit down with friends, and they wish me, “Biteavon.” I spill some water and so I reach for a napkin—only to find that “Biteavon” is written on ALL of the napkins. I just love that. When I used to go to “Hebrew Table” at university, I remember noticing how my Hebrew teacher always used to say “Biteavon.” Without fail, every single time. And I thought that was a bit strange, because most people in the US don’t tell their lunchmates to enjoy their meal or “Bon appetit.” At least not EVERY time. But now I understand this. And one day I hope that I too will be able to naturally join in with this chorus of Biteavons!
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