“I can get you a Green Card…does that turn you on?”

I just remembered something that needed to be shared: so sometime during the war (or “operation” or whatever it was that just happened here in Israel), we were sitting in class when we heard a large number of helicopters and airplanes and whatever flying around Jerusalem. Whenever something like this used to happen back in LA or Chicago, I used to be like, “Goodness, are we at war or something? Haha…” And without thinking I totally said it here in Israel when, yes, we were indeed at war. Boy did I feel like an idiot.

So, about the job: I went in today, as I was asked…..and neither of my bosses were there are the moment, so I just sort of hung around and chatted with one of my (former, I guess) co-workers from Chile who is a very nice girl. And then the boss who told me to come in today to talk to my other boss entered the store, and immediately from the look on his face I could tell that I had done something wrong, though I didn’t know what. There was an awkward pause, then I said in Hebrew, “Is [other boss] here?”

And then in response he snapped at me as if he were just impossibly irritated and said, “No, he’s NOT here….I said CALL today.” Oh man did I feel embarrassed. Yesterday I could have sworn he said to come in tomorrow. He used the word “to enter,” “ticansi.” I remember thinking to myself, “Wow, that seems like a weird word choice, are you sure he said ‘ticansi’?” And I really thought hard and decided that that’s what he said, because I thought maybe “enter” can be like “come in” and then it’s like in English where you can be like, “Yeah, just come in tomorrow and we’ll talk.” And maybe it’s like that in Hebrew too, I don’t know, but APPARENTLY this is all irrelevant because he said ‘titkashri’ which is call. Fuck. I could have sworn he said ‘ticansi.’

So now, not only do I not understand Hebrew, but apparently I’m also deaf.

Oh man, I’m pretty sure my face was bright red, but I tried to salvage whatever amount of my dignity that I could. I tried to act like all these Israeli women I see walking around all the time in their boots and weird clothing, and their expressions that seem to say, “I don’t give a shit about what you have to say.” I said in the most confident way I could muster in the best Hebrew accent I could manage, “Fine, then I’ll call later.” And then I tried to waltz out of the room as if I had somewhere much more interesting and important to be.

Of course, I DON’T have somewhere much more interesting or important to be.

Instead I decided I’d walk down to the Old City and maybe check out the Christian sites, none of which I’ve ever seen before, or drop in for some praying at the Western Wall (which clearly I could use at the moment….). So I went towards the Kotel via the Arab market, because the Armenian Quarter isn’t all that exciting. And as I’m walking down the steps, I see this Arab guy on a cell phone. First he happily chirps, “Aywa!” (Yes.) Then a second later he yells even more happily, “Aywa!” And then completely ecstatic about something, he lets out a climactic, head-turning, “AYWA!!!!!” And then to top it off, “ALHAMDULILLAH!!!!!”

Anyway, I’m just glad SOMEONE in Jerusalem was having a good day….

So anyway, I was about to turn down the alley to the Wall, and then I thought maybe I would actually go to the Christian sites first. So I continued down the path through the Muslim Quarter, and suddenly a voice from behind me calls out in English, “It’s closed!”

I turned around and saw an Arab guy sitting in a chair a few paces back, across from the alley that gets you to the Wall. Basically every single time I’ve ever been to the Wall using this route or left the Wall using this route, there has been an Arab guy (a different one each time) sitting in that chair and yelling advice/travel advisories/directions to passing tourists. I have no idea how these men make money, the only way I can figure they can afford to do this all day is that somehow the government sponsors them. I’ve decided from now on to refer to it as the “Arab Ministry of Information.”

“What do you mean ‘It’s closed,’ what’s ‘it’?” I said to the man from the Ministry.

So apparently when the mosque is being used for prayers the route I was taking to the Stations of the Cross is closed. Whatever. So instead of doing the Jesus thang, I went down the alley to the wall, and instead of actually going down to it I stayed up on a balcony, grabbed the bars of a the railing in front of me and poked my head through for about 20 minutes.

Also, I have to say that in a sequel to what happened one time outside the Rambam’s Tomb in Tiberias, another yarmulke-wearing man who colored his speech with frequent “Baruch Hashem”s and “B’Ezrat Hashem”s tried to pick me up as I exited the Wall plaza. First he offered to take me to a bar for a drink (mind you, it was about noon at the time…), and when I politely refused he offered to take me to his apartment for drinks. So I have to ask: what is it with creepy religious men trying to pick girls up outside of religious sites?



On a final note, you know what it felt like to work? I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder when she was teaching at the Brewster’s school, and she had to live with the Brewsters. If you’ve read the Little House series, maybe you’ll know what I’m talking about….