Dateline Jerusalem — I finally feel like an Israeli. This summer, G-d willing, will be my seventh anniversary living in Israel. I might never become fluent in Hebrew, but my understanding of the language is coming along. The problem is, I only understand Hebrew when an American speaks it. My reading recognition of words has vastly improved. I am comfortable in a taxi telling the driver where I want to go, which way to turn, what type of restaurant I am seeking, asking how much it will cost to go from one location to another. This may seem elementary, especially when one-time tourists to Israel have a larger vocabulary of common phrases. But I feel a sense of accomplishment. Finally I am able to express myself in Ivrit (Hebrew) without going through charades with hand and body motions.
There are certain stereotypes about Israelis. I am the typical stereotype of a relatively new American immigrant. The first question I ask wherever I go is “Medaber/medaberet anglit?” (“Do you speak English?” I am the typical ugly American, expecting everyone to speak English. Although I always demanded immigrants to the U.S. speak English, I also expect Israelis to speak English in Israel. When I speak Hebrew, I am often told to speak English because I butcher the language. Don't Israelis realize it is difficult to pronounce the Hebrew “r” and “ch”? Since English is required as a second language in most schools, why don't all Israelis speak it?
Although Hebrew and Arabic are the official languages of Israel, most street signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English. The English spelling is unrecognizable in many cases, but it is English. The English on each of the four street signs of an intersection is usually different on each corner. The other day I was walking through town and noticed a clothing boutique with a sign that said “Close” instead of “Clothes.” English menus in Israeli restaurants are hysterically funny. With all the Anglos living in Israel, I do not understand why most Israelis do not use them to translate Hebrew into English. Since the Russian population of my town is large, it is not unusual to see storefronts in Russian.
American immigrants to Israel are recognized by their non-Israeli behavior. When an emergency vehicle siren is blaring, they pull to the side of the road. Not so the Israeli driver. Rarely seen are Israeli drivers using their turn signals or letting other cars cut in front of them. They think nothing of driving or parking on sidewalks. Israel is one of two places in the world that I do not drive. The other is New York.
Not just on the road can Israelis be assertive. When I came to my town, a clerk at City Hall told me I would never make it here. I was “too nice.” I did not do anything for her to get that impression other than wait my turn in line while others cut ahead of me and demanded the clerk's attention. Even when it was my turn, people would come up to the clerk and demand that she stop helping me and help them. Once at the post office there was a big “balagan” (chaotic mess) when that happened. The other Israelis in line got loud and upset with both the clerk and the person cutting ahead of them.
An old Russian woman once came up to me at an Israeli government office and asked my ticket number. When I showed it to her, she opened her purse and took out a wad of tickets until she found a number lower than mine. She soon cut ahead of me, waving her ticket to show she should be before me. That would not happen to me today. I have become assertive in my old age. I have learned to spread my wings. Now I stand in line for the bus with my elbows outstretched so that no one can get around me or get in front of me.
Whether it is my new command of the Hebrew language or my recently acquired assertiveness, finally I feel like a real Israeli. I love it.
L'hitraot. Shachar
