The Great Cat Divide

Cat in Baka, Jerusalem. Summer 2011? Photo courtesy of my father, David Nechamkin

My sister came to visit, and instantly fell in love with all the cats that creep around Israel, ruling the school that was Ulpan Etzion Beit Canada, pouncing on the garbage dumps and attacking each other in the night. She cooed at them, and pet them. And she is not the first anglo I've seen to approach the cats (at times, even I must admit to thinking they are cute. There was this fierce one at Ulpan that looked like a lion...)

Israeli cats match the terrain here. Supposedly they were brought over by the British to control the rat problem, but now they are true Israelis. They are tough and not to be trifled with. I have heard horror stories, urban legends involving cats. About a really macho, former big-deal guy in the army who got a cat bite, wasn't gonna go to the hospital, finally after much nagging did go to the hospital, and then was told that had he not gone to the hospital he would have died. And yet, for non-Israelis, the cats are cuddly-cute. Even in the ulpan, people took care of them and in anglo-heavy neighborhoods like Baka, cat kibble is left out.

My sister with a "meow-meow." Sorry, ma...

True story: at an outdoor cafe in the chic Tel Aviv, my little sister scooped up a cat and put it in her lap. PUT A STRAY TEL AVIV CAT IN HER LAP!!! The cafe goers were all horrified, but she insisted it was clean. The cat jumped on the table and its tail swooshed by the sugar packets. I've seen where those cats go, and I was terrified it would touch me.

This brings me to the great cat divide: Israelis do not understand Americans' obsession with the cats. Never have, never will. They do not get why we find them so cute, so adorable, so cuddly-wuddly. I am sure the lack of understanding between the two sides is indicative of something larger.

My sister and I went out with some Israelis and we were discussing the cat situation and the events of the past few days. My sister was saying how she wanted to get a cat now for sure. We were drinking choco (hot chocolate), sachlev and milk shakes on a Saturday night.

I was thinking about how much had changed since I first came here to about a year and a half ago. About how Israel makes sense to me, how it really is home and how the cats are really just rats here. About how certain things no longer wow me, how maybe I'm no longer so moon-eyed and perhaps the honeymoon phase is drawing to an end as I enter year II of Aliyah. How I am starting to feel like a local. How my Hebrew has improved B"H and how I am starting to understand the culture. But, just when I thought I had the Israeli mentality all figured out...

"Now squirrels," said one of the Israeli girls who had spent a year in Ohio. "Now those are funny."

Keeping It Real and Classy

Click on "article" for an excellent article about life as an oleh/ olah (olim olot, for those of you out there who did ulpan) from my former Pardes chevruta, Lance Levenson.

All of the Lights (Part II)

Chanukah in Israel is something special. Delicious sufganeyot (filled with pistaccio cream, chocolate and halfa, or the traditional strawberry jelly) are popped out by bakeries and sold in corner stores; chanukiyas in glass boxes line the streets and larger ones consume the central squares; and Chanukah parties are all the rage, from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv and beyond.

There is a communal sense of it all. The miracle is really publicized it, and you can really feel it. The Chanukah spirit is in the air. Much like when I saw throngs of people, the masses, migrating towards to Old City of Jerusalem during Sukkot, Chanukah in Israel makes me nostalgic. It makes me think of how it must have been the last time we held Jerusalem.... and how Chanukah, anywhere else in the world, could never quite compare.

My Chanukiya, Bought at the Artists' Market in Tel Aviv

Chanukah Kid's Party at a Bakery in Tel Aviv; Please Note the DJ

First Night Lighting, Tel Aviv

Sufganiyot (Oily Doughnuts) for Sale at the Bodega in Tel Aviv (Look Closely)

Chanukiya in a Box... Outside on of My Favorite Buildings on One of My Favorite Streets in Jerusalem

Chanukiya in Kikar Tzion, One of the Main Squares in Downtown Jerusalem

Close Up from the Second Night

Many of the Chanukiyas, Such as the Above, Are Sponsored by Chabad

Four Glass Boxes of Chanukiyas All Lit Up for the World to See on Bezalel Street

Matchy-Matchy

It all started when my roommate told me that her fancy shampoo didn't work in this land, and the best stuff she has used is the cheapo caroline brand from superfarm (Israeli CVS). Sure enough, my fancy shampoo had not been working either and so I went out and bought 1+1 shampoo myself, and instantly my hair felt and looked better. The shampoo was harsh though, like all things here; it was designed to work with the hard Israeli water.

Still Life of Cat at Cafe in Brown and Beige, Emek Refaim

This whole soap debacle made me wonder. What is the Israeli landscape? What are nations, and how can someone look of that nation? Why do Israeli products have a distinct look, and how is it that Israelis can be spotted miles away? Sometimes now on facebook my Italian students post photos of their friends, and I think how perfectly they blend into their surroundings. But what does it mean to blend in?

When I lived in Milan, my father said I looked Italian. Blond and fair, I am not so sure if any Italian was ever fooled. But still, it is true: I did dress differently when I was there, adapted myself to both the weather and the culture and what was available. Waterproofed all my shoes, put on eye makeup everyday, drank espresso in the morning and ate a lot of focaccia.

In Israel, sometimes I can't make sense of it all. The Hebrew language, Israeli manners, Israeli bureaucracy, Israeli schedules and how everything here can be so last minute or take so long. I meet the children of Anglo parents, and sometimes they speak english perfectly, and sometimes they have accents. Sometimes they seem quite American, and other times they are meah akhoz (100%) Israeli. Sometimes they marry other anglos or children of anglos. But still, somehow, they know how to get around here and there. They can make sense of the land, they can blend in and they can speak Hebrew without an accent. They look Israeli. But how, but why? We have the same genetics, most likely. Their parents probably look like mine.

Israelis match the hard but beautiful terrain of Israel. Israelis just get it, they can make sense of this country and know how to make an intimidating waitress smile or how to get around a certain rule. Or how to look good in hiking clothes and how to survive on an Israeli salary. How to get from point A to point B and how to act during an incoming rocket. They know what to expect, or know not to expect anything whatsoever.

Finding a shampoo that works after almost a year of looking was a big deal to me. I finally felt like I was figuring things out, finding my place in society and what worked for me. Cutting my dependence on foreign goods. I felt like I was starting to blend into the Israeli landscape, knowing what to get. Tiny battles, sure. But significant ones.

And perhaps now I look a little more Israeli.