An appropriate title for all that has occurred since my last column.

Another strike.

­

This time the Ministry of Interior is on strike, and they are in charge of the preparation of some of my documents.

The same documents that had me going to Raanana when the Absorption Center there would not accept me.

The same documents I need to have corrected immediately.

My Lone Worry

The Post Office is still on strike. So no health insurance yet. I am feeling better. I don’t worry about anything other than which government organization will be striking tomorrow.

I was given an American name, a Yiddish name, but never a Hebrew name when I was born.

Shachar is the Hebrew translation of my American name. I like the name, even though half the time I can't pronounce it, especially that gutteral “ch” sound.

It sounds as if I am clearing my throat all the time, or choking. Appropriate for my choking coughs.

In May, I fill out paperwork for an official Hebrew name change to Shachar so that all the information and paperwork will be ready by the time I arrived here in Israel.

What, Me Worry?

Since I was going with a group who claimed I would avoid the bureaucracy by having a name change and documents prepared on the flight, I was thrilled.

At the airport we again filled out forms on a computer laptop so that by the end of the flight the name change would be in effect, only to find out that the documents would not be ready until July 4 in Jerusalem.

I was not staying near Jerusalem. I called up that morning to make sure they had my identity card with my new name before I made the schlep there.

I was assured that everything went well and only one person on the flight didn't have documents prepared correctly. Not to worry. Come to Jerusalem.

Two in a Row?

What are the odds that I would be the one person on the entire flight to get messed up?

I already had been sent to the wrong city, and all my documents still incorrectly reflected Raanana.

What are the odds of two strikes in a row?

Okay. Strikes are common here. But two in a row are unusual.

I start to feel badly for the poor person who didn't get his or her name change since I have been quite discouraged lately with my bad luck.

I speak too soon.

Feeling Like Abraham

“We apologize. We don't know what happened. The Ministry of the Interior is on strike so we can't help you.”

They are talking to me.

What are the odds I would be that one person on the entire flight who doesn’t get the name change?

I feel like I am Abraham going through his 10 trials.

Everyday something new to make this aliyah difficult.

I purposely chose to make aliyah through the group because I wanted to avoid all the bureaucracy here.

Ha, ha.

Allegedly, they handle everything, getting me all the proper documents, making important arrangements, speaking with those in the know.

Only those in the know either don’t know or don’t want to know or know to disappear when things are messed up.

Next stop, the shipper.

Also in Jerusalem.

And Then There Was the Shipper

The trip wasn’t a total waste, except for the five hours spent at the shipper.

In February, my furniture and belongings were packed and sent to Israel via ship from Los Angeles to China, unloaded and reloaded onto another ship to Israel. Everything arrived in May, so I have been paying for storage since it as now July.

I explained to the shipper I had just arrived and had not yet found a place to live. But I would notify him when I did so.

He insists I come to his office. This is a highly recommended international shipper.

My cousin tries to find the place but can't understand why it is in a residential neighborhood. Why? Because it is a tiny room in the owner's house.

Which One Was Worse?

There are two guys working for the shipper, each knowing less than the other.

The shipper gives me paperwork to fill out and take to customs tomorrow (something they were supposed to do) because rumor has it Customs might be going on strike.

It is a good thing I have an eye for detail (due to my cop and attorney background).

Otherwise things would be really bad for me here.

The shipper checked the wrong boxes, listed my items incorrectly and tried to work on my case while speaking to his wife, children, and other customers on the phone.

At one point he must have realized he wasn't a multi-task individual, and he asked one of his employees to help me.

This guy couldn't get things right.

I spent hours going over the documents until they were correct.

By the time we left it was dark.

What more to expect?

L’hitraot, Shachar