Working Girl part 2

It was after my first day at work.
My head was overloaded with information and the sun was hot. It might also have been that the three layers of clothes I was wearing, from the morning in Jerusalem which had been very chilly, were a bit too much for one o’clock afternoon in Tel Aviv.

The loved one called and said that he was on his way to pick me up. I said I would get a sandwich and wait for him by the petrol station on the main road.

This I did.

Got a sandwich and sat down on a low wall under a small olive tree that grew next to the petrol station. They were rebuilding the road and the area. The olive tree belonged to a small group of olive trees forming a tiny little park next to the dusty big road.

I sat reading some papers minding my own business when a red car suddenly drives up on to the pavement and stops next to me.

The window unfurls itself and inside I see a dwarf or is the politically correct term “little person”? I know I shouldn’t use “midget”.
But anyway, this tiny man of about fifty was standing in front of his steering wheel and he looked out the window and asked me in Hebrew (I will put a translation in brackets):

- Kama? (How much?)
- Slihka? (Sorry?)
- Kama? (How much?)
- What?!
- Ahhh… ein Hevrit? (Ahhh...no Hebrew?)
- Lo. (No)
- Russit? (Russian?)
- Lo. (No)
- Anglit? (English?)
- Yes
- Ahh ok… So how much?
- How much for what?!?!

The minute man with the big head looked a bit confused for a bit and then he turned bright red. I on the other hand was laughing my head off.

- Eh, I am sorry? You not work…I mean live here?
- Here? In the park? Next to the road? No.
- Ah…oh…I am very very sorry. I think you work, I mean live here…
- Well, no I am sorry but I don’t.
- Ah, so what are you doing here?
- I am waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up.
- Oh, I am sorry. I will go now. I am very very sorry I think you are… I mean Sometimes I need… I am so sorry…
- Don’t worry about it! Better luck next time!

Then he laughed in a relieved sort of way and drove off.

The loved one was very sore with me afterwards for passing up on little person sex ;)

Working Girl part 1

So I got the job!

At the organisation which works for Equality in Education.

Here’s the deal: There is a Ministry of Education in this country. And there is a curriculum (sv. Läroplan). But the ministry is apparently a bunch of people waiting for their retirement and the curriculum is sort of followed - sometimes.

There are no inspectors who check the quality of education in schools or make sure that the budget allocated for education is actually used for education. There is no one who makes sure that the curriculum is followed.

Which leads to…

Kids from lower “socio-economic” areas (poor neighbourhoods) do not have schools to attend in their neighbourhood, so they are sent to boarding schools (sv. internat) far from home and families. Also they might not receive the necessary schooling to do further education in universities.

There are a lot more strange and terrible things happening to children whose parents don’t know what rights they have.
For instance, kids are recommended to go to vocational schools (sv. yrkesorienterade skolor), forced to use Retalin (to make them calm and more focused) to be allowed into classrooms, or are classified as mentally disabled and are put in special education. All of this because they might not have Hebrew as a first language or maybe can’t read or write because the teachers they’ve had before were not licensed to teach.

The groups who mostly benefit from the organisation I am working for now, are Arabs in Israel, Bedouins and Ethiopian Jewish new immigrants.

The organisation I am working for, is teaching parents about what rights their children have and getting parents organised in groups so that they can fight authorities and demand to be treated fairly.

My job will be fundraising. Writing to different foundations all over the world and asking them to fund our organisation or donate computers to schools or something like it.

Most of my work will be writing letters in English, meeting with officials from Embassies and presidents of foundations. There might be a possibility of travelling. But the organisation I work for is very small and I suppose it will be up to me if I manage to raise money so that I can travel.

So if anyone has any ideas on foundations or companies with a policy of donating money to different causes, tell me.

I am really nervous about the job by the way but I know it is all about being new and all. When I know the organisation inside out I will be very good at selling. Hey, if I could sell service to corporations, I am sure I can sell a good cause to foundations. Right?

Just life

I have been thoroughly bad at keeping in touch with everybody so I guess no one knows what is up with me and what’s the point with a blog if I don’t give u some information about my life, other than my paranoia about invading robot aliens and such.

So we had a couple of rough months, as would be expected from any relationship. We had our honeymoon period and then came the storm. It was tough, hard, what ever, but we are over it and now life is wonderful again.

So. More?

I am still looking for work.

Have three options at the moment.

1. Had a job interview with an NGO (Non Governmental Organisation) last week. They want a “fundraiser”, in other words a person who writes letters and calls rich people and foundations to beg for money for a good cause. Very well paid, sort of boring job but nice cause and part time. (I will tell you more about it if I get the job)
   
   Background:Since beginning of August I have been a trainee for another organisation, it’s cause is “workers rights”. Mainly immigrants, Arabs and low wage populations in the Israeli society. Well, anyway, this trainee job gave me the opportunity to apply to this other organisation. And I really hope I get it even though I have very little experience. So hold your thumbs, fingers and toes for me…
   
   
2. Archaeology – a job close to the Old City of Jerusalem. Have been guaranteed a job as soon as I get my Israeli ID. (I need it so that I can be insured). This job, well… WOW… it was always my dream to be a female Indiana Jones. So even though it is hard work and minimum wage I really hope I will be able to start within a week or two.
   
   
3. Nanny. Next door to us (right next door unfortunately) there is a day care centre for babies. My neighbour, a very nice girl who has just had a baby wants me to start working there so that I can keep an extra eye open for her baby. It would be easy, since babies don’t speak English and it is so close - I wake up at eight in the morning anyway from all the crying.

So that is the job situation.

Other than that, we are walking in the wonderful nature every day.
We had visitors from Sweden during the summer. My gorgeous sister for three weeks. And a favourite friend from University with his new girlfriend.
AND the first rain came!!! Amazing! Of course, I ran out in the middle of the night and danced with it.

The loved one is composing wonderful music, I am cooking delicious food, and fixing the house, painting and hammering and stuff.

We have friends over at least once a week. Lovely. And they all fall in love with our home. I must agree with them, it is the most lovable flat I’ve been in.

The only thing I am not doing is sewing.
Hmm… it breaks my heart. I really want to, but have a thousand excuses not to. I do crochet (Sv: ‘virka’) a lot though, in preparation for winter. Lots of hats and fingerless mittens. I hope the loved one will sell some at the Music Academy this winter.

I miss all of you and think about you every day:

My funky friends in San Fran; Treehouse friends where ever you may be (Germany, England, Scotland, Oz); my sweet soul in Germany (I miss you very much); the two wonderful artists who influenced and changed my life the most (New Zealand and Oz); my sister and best friends in Sweden; all my little friends; my sweetie darling whose heart is behind bars; all the fun people that I worked with; travelling friends; Uni mates; Ozzy family; Circus friends and all others.

As I've said before I wish I could all collect you on an island and live happily ever after.

I’ll tell you something you didn’t know about Israel…

This place is invaded by alien robots, people don’t take much notice of them since they have disguised them selves as fire hydrant.

But I know they are there.

Silent.

Still.

Secretly observing.

Cute Robot

Market Robot

Patriotic Robot

Robot Family - Daddy, Mummy and little wee one

Imprisoned Robot

Robot walking his Robot-Dog

Homework in Progress

I didn’t tell you that I started studying Hebrew.
Yes I know, this is an important piece of information but I am so way behind in all my writing and my entire life actually so you’ll have to bear with me.

I started studying “Ulpan” (like “Svenska för invandrare” in Hebrew) a couple of months ago.

The class has 23 people and what kind of people do you think study Hebrew?

I know what preconceived notions (sv. förutfattade meningar) I had:

• There would no one like me, who is in Israel because of a loved one.

• There would be A LOT of Jewish Americans doing “Aliyah” (immigrating to Israel)

• There would be A LOT of “Jewish” Russians doing “Aliyah” (but in most of their cases it is more about a better work opportunity than for a religious reason)

• All of them would be about 25 years old.

I was completely wrong!

My class of 23 has:

• 5 anti-social Catholic French people –
  only one of them can smile, the others will look panic-stricken when greeted or act as if it is thin air, and not my person, saying hello to them.
  All of them volunteer for Catholic organisations working mostly with handicapped or mentally disabled children. I really hope they talk and smile to the kids.

• 1 Belgian 65-75 year old man –
  very soft spoken and sweet Christian: “I embrace all religions, God is God. In the end we will all be judged for what good we did in life, not which Bible, Koran or Scripture we read.” This is what he whispered to me during class.
  He is not very good at learning Hebrew since he is so friendly that he engages anyone who sits next to him in a conversation. These talks are mostly about flowers or about the latest church, mosque, temple or synagogue he has visited. Since he is such an “all-embracing religious” guy he visits as many different “holy houses” as he can.
  He also volunteers with handicapped children and as a gardener.

• 3 German Catholics –
  one amazingly daft and the other two very bright. Also working with volunteering or studying.

• 4 Greek Orthodox –
  2 nuns all dressed in black and giggling most of the time.
  One of the nuns has a big black leather brand name bag and drives a small black sports car. She is at all times on the cell phone, sometimes even leaving the class room for an “important phone call”.
  The other nun is small and plump with apple cheeks. She is very good at Hebrew but is so shy that she whispers when getting a question whilst her cheeks turn bright red.
  Another is a very young priest who looks as if he has just escaped from prison. Black woollen hat worn at all times, long black ZZ-Top beard and black outfit that looks just like a nightdress. He has an I-Pod in his right pocket which he listens to when class is “too slow” or uninteresting for him. What he listens to? Yes I asked him. Well - German heavy metal – of course…
  The fourth Orthodox, is a beautiful mysterious woman who works at the patriarch (the orthodox church). Apparently she was a very famous actress who has escaped the world of fame and paparazzi for a much more modest kind of life…

• 5 Arabs –
  very talkative and friendly, one construction engineer from Saudi Arabia and the rest from East Jerusalem .
  Hmm…no... even though they are Israeli citizens and were born and raised in Jerusalem, they do not learn Hebrew in school. But, to be noted, neither do the Jewish in Israel learn Arabic in school (I mean it is not compulsory).
  Ehm, didn’t Dr Phil or some psychologist say something about “Communication is the key to having a good relationship” ?
  But anyway, their English is perfect. They are my favourite people in class, always friendly, joking and curious.

• 1 Finnish tall pale guy –
  studying at the bible school of the Swedish sect “Word of life” (sv. Livets Ord), you know the people who talk in tongues, consider homosexuals and mentally less able people to be connected to the devil in some way or other…I rest my case.
  One would have thought that a person who can learn the language of Jibberish to speak to God would be able to learn Hebrew (the language of the first Bible) pretty well. But I am sad to say, he sucks.

And then there’s a scattering of people from all over the world: 1 Philippine older annoying woman, 1 very shy Austrian guy who wears shoes made from pony skin?!, an Italian guy with an amazing singing voice but also very Christian and religious, a Japanese girl who is here because her Japanese husband is doing his doctorate here and a Korean girl who doesn’t say anything. That’s about it.

Visit from Home

The same night as the Purim party my sister and mum came to visit.

What followed was a hurricane of activities:

Old City - Jerusalem

Monk in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher - Jerusalem

Mountains - Dead Sea

Swimming in a waterfall - Dead Sea

Weird Animal - Dead Sea

Mud - Dead Sea

Cable Car - Masada

View of Dead Sea and Jordan

Tel Aviv

I wish it would rain

In the winter it rains in this country, although it is mostly a desert country there is actually more rainfall in Jerusalem per year than in Berlin or Paris.

All of the rain comes during three months in the winter.

Now it is summer and I am longing for some rain, it is hot hot hot, everyday has a clear blue sky and a large sun in the sky.

It is only five months until the next drop.

Then the streets will look like this again:

Purim

Sorry.

Too many things happened and I got so overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I wanted to write about, that instead of writing a line here and there, I just shut down.
Overload.

So now fast forward from where I left off:

Purim - celebrated somewhere in between February and March

Purim is an odd week in this country and it is the most popular holiday with huge parties.

The story behind the holiday has a Persian evil minister, a Persian king and his favourite (Jewish) wife and her Jewish uncle, as characters. Then there is something about killing all the Jews (you’ve heard it all before…) and how the plot fails thanks to the beautiful favourite wife of the king.
And anyway, because of this “historical” story all people wear weird costumes for a week and go to fancy dress up parties. Obvious isn't it...

The fancy dress parties are not like in Sweden where 10% of the party goers make something fun out of it; 50% put on a silly mask to match their everyday outfits; and the rest, 40% show up as normal as can be. Only wearing a sort of patronising look on their faces of disapproval at the childishness of the dressed up guests.

Here in Israel fancy dress is taken VERY seriously for the entire week and in everyday life:

Old man at a bus stop

Me as an Ars - Israeli "white" trash 2006
(first time I met all the loved one's friends)

Me as the hump of a camel 2007
(I made the camel from newspaper, towels and a bit of fake fur)

Work in No Progress

So I’ve written about how I live here, but I don’t think you really know WHAT I do here? How do I spend my days? What WILL I do?

They are very good questions and I better answer them shortly cause to be honest with you, I’ve run out of money. Ok, I won’t starve to death or have to run around without clothes in the street. But I might have to walk a bit more instead of taking a bus and not buy a coffee-to-go or a sandwich in the café (and they have such delicious sandwiches in this country!).

So I need a job, my wish was to do more creative things when I got here, you know, like sew or knit or crochet stuff and sell. And in the first few weeks I did crochet hats and fingerless gloves and actually sold a few.

The hats look like this for instance:

And the gloves:

Just simple stuff.

The gloves are pretty popular in the music school where the loved one studies, they are good for musicians, since they can keep their hands warm and still play piano or a guitar.

What I make has to be simple and quick or else I won’t be able to sell them, more time spent on something means means a higher price.

But even before the winter here ended I stopped making the hats and gloves.

I don’t know why, a friend of mine who has a clothes store in the most popular street in Tel Aviv even said that I should give him some samples of the gloves and he would try to sell them. But I didn’t give him any, partly because I didn’t have enough hours in a day to make the samples but probably mostly because I didn’t really believe it would be possible to sell them.

That’s my biggest problem. I don’t believe they will sell or that things I make look nice or that people will want to have them.

So when winter ended I tried to figure out what to do next and then one of my favourite friends back in Sweden gave me an idea:

Recently in Sweden a popular thing to sell is handmade crocheted jewellery which has been dipped in lacquer so it is stiff and shiny like plastic.

I tried to find pictures of this on the internet which was impossible so I just started to invent stuff and it didn’t turn out so well.

First of all it takes for ever to make them since the needle and thread are so thin which also make my hands and neck hurt. But most importantly they are ugly! Who’d want to wear them as earrings or pendants? Aren’t they ugly?

(These are not lacquered yet)

So what then? What can I do, which is creatively stimulating for me and quick and easy and will sell.

Another idea I had was to make little purses or bags like this:

It is not finished yet, only in a developing stage, I stuck a piece of paper inside, but the inside should be made of fabric with a little zipper. But to make these I need a sewing machine.
And oh dear, did I mention that I don’t have any money left?

So, Catch 307 - I can’t make stuff to sell so I will earn money which will mean that I can buy a sewing machine to make the stuff I want to sell so that I will earn money…

And yes, I could borrow some money I suppose, but I am really scared that I will get a machine and then not proceed to make things because I give up for lack of confidence and motivation.

“I don’t know if these will sell either and I don’t know if they are nice etc etc”.

I have other ideas as well. Baby clothes are easy and quick to sew and I think there might be a market for more “trendy” baby clothes here, since it is such a backward country.

But then again …sewing machine…

And will I really do it? Will the things I make be nice? Will they sell?

Not a Trivial Thing

I do not want to write about politics or wars.
These are not Trivial Matters.

But the situation is this:

A lot of people died today and not very far from where I am.

I don’t know what to say, it is too sad to reflect upon, so it is easier to bury ones head in the sand and not read newspapers or watch news on the television.

But a lot of people were injured today.

A lot of people huddled inside the shelters all day and all night, fearing for their lives.

I want to recommend another blog for you, it is written by two friends, one a Palestinian who lives in Gaza and the other an Israeli who lives 10 kilometres away, in Sderot, just over the border in Israel.

Read it:

Life must go on in Gaza and Sderot

Washing Clothes and Drying Dove

It is not fun to wash clothes, but it is something one has to do occassionally. In our case this occasionally, unfortuantly takes place once a week.

So last week I grumpily got out of bed knowing that it was washing day. The weather was dismal to match my mood. It was pouring down with an icey wind that came from everywhere.

So I collected the clothes in my big blue IKEA bag and forced myself up the hill, against the wind, the 100 metres to the laundry. It was hard work.

I started the machines and started to leave the building (which also has dorms and an office) but at the entrance of the building I came to a full stop.

There, huddled just inside the entrance on the floor was the most dismal pigeon I have ever seen. Its wings hung on its side dragging on the floor as if it had no strength to pick them up and I could understand her.

The pigeon was soaking wet and shivering, I have never seen a bird so wet before, it was as if someone had poured a whole bucket of water on top of her and there she sat, not knowing what had hit her and not knowing what to do. There was a puddle building up underneath her from the water dripping off her wings and tail.

It seriously broke my heart and I understood that she was trying to get indoors where it was a bit warmer but the wind was howling through the doorway and nowhere in the building was a safe haven for her. People were going in and out of this entrance - some girls screamed when they saw her pathetic being and others just saying Ooops! when they nearly trod on her. So the pigeon was very scared and dared not go anywhere I think, I also think she was so cold that she didn’t have any strength either.

So I went home with an aching heart – down the hill, against the wind.

And if you seriously think that I am a cold hearted terrible person and that I left her there to die, you are not worthy of being my friends.

I did go home alone.

But.

When I got home, I took a cardboard box (from our fuse popping oven) stuffed an old bathroom mat in the bottom and put a little container with bread crumbs and oatmeal in it.

The I took a soft pillowcase (the softest material I could find) and went back to the entrance, up the hill, against the wind, wondering if she would still be there.

She was.

And I wouldn’t say she was glad that I picked her up, but I don’t think she was very unhappy, either, to suddenly be embraced by warm soft cotton.

I put her in the box and put the box next to the radiator which was hot.

She didn’t do much, just sat there.

And in the morning she was dead.

NOOO! Just kidding!

In the morning she woke me up, by flapping her wings.

She was completely dry, so I took her outside, where she flew from my hands and sat on a lamppost to tidy her feathers.

Unfortunatly I was in such a distress when I found the pigeon that I didn’t have an sense to take a picture of her misery.

But fortunately for you, I am an outstanding artist so here is a picture of what she looked like before…

and here's a picture of what she looked like after her ordeal:

Smelly fridge and fuse popping toaster oven

After about a month the smell of the fridge and freezer became worse and one day the freezer was nice and warm like a summer day and not nasty and freezing like a winter night. So we got the janitor over who looked at it and hmm:ed and haa:ed and then phoned some freezer mechanics.

These two nice mechanics arrived the next morning and one of them promptly sat down in our armchair and started to gaze at the view (I don’t blame him) whilst the other mechanic started to empty the freezer and taking it apart. The mechanic who was preoccupied in the armchair asked the loved one to play him some music on the piano which the loved one did after giving them some coffee.
After about just 15 minutes the working mechanic said something like “Aha!” (but in Arabic) and out came his hand from the interior of the freezer. Clasped in his hand was a black melted lump of stuff with metal bits sticking out of it in various places. This lump was reeking of the same chloridic smell we had had in our house since we moved in.

“What is that?!” I asked.
“The engine!” the working mechanic said with a big smile.

The non-working mechanic took the piece in his hand and whistled but then continued to gaze at our beautiful view (still don’t blame him).

Five minutes later the working mechanic had got another engine and fixed the freezer.

Had this been in Sweden the mechanics would have come a week after booking them, looked at the freezer without looking at the view or talking to you and then ordering a new engine which would have taken another week to arrive…

That same day we decided to try our luck at fixing the fuse popping toaster oven.

This meant that we drove for an hour through terrible traffic, argued with the sales people at the shop and then drove for another hour through terrible traffic before finally parking smack bang in the middle of a street, in front of the traffic lights. (Strictly forbidden! But what to do? The parking situation is insane in Israel)

We then took the toaster oven into 3 holes in the walls (which were next to each other) before finally finding the right hole in the wall. (3 different shops, but all had the exact same name)

All of the shops were about the size of a shoe box and all were drowning in kitchen appliances and spare parts to these. Inside and outside the shops these objects just lay in a big mess.
There wasn’t the slightest bit of order anywhere and the men in the shops smoked and look disinterested. So I didn’t have much hope.

But since I was on parking ticket duty I stood outside in the rain looking miserably at our car.

After about half an hour the loved one emerged from having a lovely chat with the owner of the fixing store. He knew the mans entire life story and they even exchanged advice on women, music and coffee brands before the loved one had to run out after I frantically called him to tell him we were about to get a ticket.

(One nice thing about parking ticket people. IF you are in the vicinity of your car, they are not allowed to give you a ticket. They will ask you to move the car, which you will, of course do. But they will not hand you a ticket whilst you are moving the car. As they would in Sweden)

Anyway, in the car, I asked:

“So? What is the toaster oven's verdict?”
“Erhm…” the loved one said looking gslightly embarrassed. “Well we are going to plug it in, using an adapter which will mean that the third “spike” of the plug will not be connected…”
“You mean that we will plug it to the socket without it being earthed (jordad)?”
“Yes! Exactly!”
“Ok!” I replied slowly “You know there is a reason why kitchen appliances like ovens are earthed, right? It is for safety. So the house doesn’t burn down!”

The loved one looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Yes, I know! And I know it sounds silly but this is what we have to do”
“Ok, but WHY are we plugging it to the wall without it being earthed?” I asked completely lost.
“Well, the fixer man said that he thought that the wiring inside was damp… And that when we plugged it in and it being earthed, it fuses it self… So if we plug it in without the earth then the fuse won’t pop and then after two hours the toaster oven will be dried out and we can re-plug it, with the earth. And everything will be fine.”
“Seriously?!” I asked “It sounds utterly insane!” I said.

The loved one agreed with me.

But when we got home we plugged it in anyway – without the earth.
Let it stay on for 2 hours.
And it worked.

Now our toaster oven works perfectly and it is earthed.

Weird.

Blossom

Thumb tacks

Making a home for yourself in a foreign country is easier said than done.

In ones home country it is easy to know where to get what. Say for instance that I want to buy a toaster, then I would know what kind of shops would sell it in Sweden and I would know where to find these shops.

But things aren’t like that here.
There aren’t many big department stores that have everything.
There aren’t any DIY shops that sell fencing, paint and everything in between.

There are, however a lot of tiny little holes in the wall shops that will sell everything within one genre. Like a shop that just sells pillows or a shop that only sells stuff for the bathroom. But then the range in these shops is not very big partly because of the size of the shop but also because it seems like most Israelis have extremely bad taste.

To make myself at home a bit quicker I brought some stuff with me from Sweden, a couple of pictures from Laos and Cambodia, some small golden mirrors and my shower curtain.

For the pictures I wanted white thumb tacks (häftstift) to put them on the wall, but there aren’t any white thumb tacks to get in the entire country! They have the plain silver and bronze metal tacks but not colourful ones. And when I ask in the shops or my friends they don’t know what I mean. So now I am thinking of framing the pictures – I’ve seen a shop which sells only frames of all shapes and sizes…

Also I want to get a few items like lamps but I don’t really want a new modern lamp that costs a fortune, I wanted a second hand, cheap lamp with more personality. But there aren’t any second hand stores in this country either!

We went to IKEA one day, just cause I knew what I could get there and that it would be cheap. But NO, it is not cheap, it is three times more expensive than in Sweden! So we ended up buying just candles...

When we finally got a real bed in the bedroom I took the other two beds and made a sofa out of them. I planned to get some simple bed covers of a nice colour to match the other stuff in the living room. But even though this country has the largest amount of bed cover shops I have ever seen, the only kind of bed covers one can get are fluffy with leopard spots or Winnie the Puh on them. I could also go more fancy and get silky golden covers with a tacky frill along the side.

Finally and desperately I went into a shop with materials to buy some material and make my own covers - no matter the cost.
In Sweden it is impossible to save money on buying your own material and making an item yourself. It is much too expensive, so you can imagine my shock when I realised that corduroy material (Manchester tyg) only costs 10 shekels a meter (20kr, 2Euro) that is about the tenth of the price in Sweden!

So now we have a nice golden corduroy sofa.

But it is really frustrating, every time I go out I have an idea of what I want to get and I always end up coming home with - nothing.

Other stuff that is hard or impossible to find in this country:

100% wool
simple shelf for spices
Yellow cheese
Mushroom Soy Sauce
Tins for tea, coffee and cocoa
Network cable (a longer one than 3 meters)

Fresh herbs (in a pot)

Snow in Jerusalem

A couple of weeks ago it snowed.

For me that is not very unusual, it is supposed to snow in winter, but in Sweden not in Israel. And this year they are growing potatoes and carrots in Sweden cause it is so warm. So far I don't think there has been any snow there.

But anyway it snowed like mad for two days here.

Old people became kids and wore silly looking thermal overalls, all the students in the campus where we live were out all night building snowmen and having screaming snowball fights and the city was at a standstill for three days.

I mean a complete standstill.

There were no buses and no one went to work, all schools and universities were closed. They said that on those three days of snow only 15% of the workforce actually went to work.

15%! Wow!

And all because of a little snow.

Everybody we knew called us and told us not to venture out in a car but we didn't really listen to them. The loved one was so excited to drive through the slush of white. Mumbling to himself "Wow! Its like a disaster zone! Wow! Shit! Cool!"

It was fun, the only other vehicals that were out and about were the police and rescue services that stood on standby in different areas of the town.

But since we live in a campus that is situated within the grounds of Jerusalems largest hospital (more about that later) all the roads leading to it (and our home) were cleared of snow first thing. So it wasn't difficult to drive at all.

And we even have penguins in the street:

Central Heating is Not to be Taken for Granted

The second best thing apart from the view in the apartment, is that we have central heating!

This may sound strange for you, most of you think that Israel is a warm country and if you look at the weather on the news you’ll see that the temperatures in winter are usually above +15.

They don’t tell you that at night it is sometimes below zero.
They also forget to mention that there is no insulation in the buildings or that the windows only have one pane of glass nor do they mention the cracks in the walls where the draft whizzes through.
Oh, and another small detail they refrain from talking about: The floors are nearly always made of polished ice cold stone.
And no one that I know has central heating! They will have a small portable heater or if you are a little more posh - air conditioner with hot fuzzy air - like in a car.

So, if you are out in the evening you put on some warm clothes, a hat and gloves. And when you go indoors, you take your jacket, gloves, hat and shoes off – cause you are indoors, it is warmer indoors, right?

WRONG!

When you go indoors, you put the kettle on, to fill the hot water bottle; you wrap two or three blankets around you; roll on an extra pair of thick woollen socks; and keep the hat and gloves on. Then you drag your small protable heater around with you where ever you may go even and probably most importantly to the bathroom. But you have to keep moving it around cause it is so very hot that it will burn you toes off if you aren't careful (although your heels will still be stone cold).

That is how it was last year when I was here during the winter.

But not this year! And not in our home!
Cause we’ve got wonderfully hot central heating!

Living in the sky

Home

Two and a half rooms.

One: Bed room.
It has one wall of yellow (?) cupboards and a double bed, or so it seems at a first glance. The double bed is actually two single bed frames with very thin mattresses on top. The silliness of this so called double bed is that no matter how one lies in it, even if you lay a still as a corpse you’ll end up sometime in the night with at least one limb stuck in between the two cots.
Lovemaking in this “double bed” is a gamble. If one isn’t careful and the love a bit rough it could break ones neck as the two bed slide apart so that the head is on one of the halves an the rest of the body on the other.

But the view from our window/balcony door (without a balcony) - is amazing.

Two: Living room.
It has the same view but double the amount of windows/balcony door (without a balcony) as our bed room. There are some built-in white bookshelves on the white walls and a Hodgepodge of quite ugly but practical furniture.

The best part about the flat is the view, one can stare at it for hours. At night it is as if we live in amongst the stars in the sky and by day we are small people looking down on the villages and olive trees in the valley below and on the hills above.

Half: Kitchen.
Tiny. The huge fridge eats up most of the space. I did care a bit about the very strange and strong smell that came from the fridge in the beginning. A smell similar to chlorine. The campus janitor told us to put a glass of coffee (ground) in the freezer and fridge and funnily enough the smell disappeared.

Also a part of the kitchen is a small gas stove. And being from Sweden where it is more common to have an electrical stove, I had in the beginning, a lot of respect for the small thing.
For something so small it is strange how intimidating it can be.

So for the first two weeks I treated it with the respect it demanded, not leaving its side for a second when it was a lit and always checking three times before I left that it was properly un-lit.

Then I got a bit more comfortable with it.
Which I shouldn’t have become.

It’s ok to burn the food once or twice, but to burn it about ten times in one week?!

Things go ever so much more quick on a gas stove.

Like hair for instance. One minute you have nice long hair and the next moment: wooosh and you have a nice smelly fringe.

Standard of living

When I left my apartment in Sweden the flat had to be inspected by the landlord, this is a norm in that nice proper society.

In an inspection they look for scratches of the parquet flooring, for many or large holes drilled into the walls and make sure that all electrical outlets work.
If you have decorated the flat during your stay, like repainted the walls they could ask you to change it back to the original colour, if the new colour is too drastic or if one has used the wrong kind of paint or even if they consider that you’ve just done a lousy painting job.

In Israel I think things are a bit different in this matter.

An apartment comes as it is, as far as I’ve been able to gather, there is no minimum standard state an apartment has to be in.
Luckily for us our new little student flat was just recently repainted white and if one doesn’t mind dried paint on the windows, floors or all over the bathtub I must say it looked fresh.
That is until I noticed the little black spots of mould in the bathroom ceiling that they’ve painted over.

In my Swedish bathroom the landlord checked for cracks in the toilette bowl and the sink. I had a tiny crack in the sink but blamed the previous tenants so I didn’t have to pay for a new one. The landlord replaced in anyway.
In our little student flat here in Jerusalem, the sink in the bathroom only has one big crack and if I am careful when cleaning it I don’t get cut on the sharp edge.

They go a bit too far in Sweden I think, I don’t mind cracks or spots or scratches, as long as the place is liveable. But before one moves out of an apartment one gets a list of things to think about and places to clean:

Clean the windows and don’t forget the windowsills
Dust the walls (?!)
Wash the floor (obviously)
Clean and unclog the drains in kitchen and bathroom (eiuh!)
and to forget to clean BEHIND the stove and refrigerator etc

Its no wonder Sweden has a high standard of living. Every apartment has to be spick and span when one moves in and even if you only get a rental apartment, one is entitled to complaining and getting reimbursed for anything that might have been missed. One can get money for repainting the whole apartment if one is lucky. Also, it is standard to have central heating, triple paned glass windows, a stove with oven, a fridge and a freezer. People in Sweden really do take these things for granted.

Our nice two room apartment has big splashes of dried paint in the bathtub, cracks in the walls where the draft comes in and all the floors are askew so every table or chair wobble slightly. Only one glass pane in the window which makes it pretty cold when the temperature at night is below zero. But I don’t care, I love it anyway!
We have a fridge and a stove but not an oven. As a housewarming gift we got a small portable oven but when we plugged it in, it blew the fuse.

Of the entire building.

Hehe…

Arrival

The loved one picked me up at the airport, it was five o’clock in the morning, I had been awake for more than 24 hours.

My first encounter with another person in these 24 hours was with a policewoman who shouted at me for being illegal. Actually she looked more like a policechild, she couldn’t have been older than 18 but wearing enough make up for a clown in a circus and with nails long, fake and red.

And what a nasty girl it was.

I told her I was married and that I intended to stay, but she said, a visitor is only allowed a 3 month tourist visa per year and that I had used up my allowance for this year (I was in Israel for three months last winter). I said that I had called the Israeli embassy in Sweden and asked about a visa and they’d told me to go to Israel first and then applying for it at the Ministry of Immigrations. She retorted in a hysterical voice verging on breaking

“Well you can go back to YOUR Embassy and tell them that a POLICE-woman told you this is ILLEGAL, you are doing an ILLEGAL thing!!!”

I did want to point out to her that the Embassy was in fact her Embassy and not mine and also that if she put a stamp in my passport I think she would be the one doing an illegal thing and not I. Also, if it was so very illegal maybe she should just not let me into the country.

But then I thought it might not be the smartest thing for me to do. Being logical with such a young hysterical person, made up like a working girl with the unfortunate job of being an authority would maybe harm me more.

After abusing and screaming me for a little while longer whilst I nodded and said “sorry” she stamped my passport fiercely and let me through.

So it was with quite a shocked and saddened face I went out in to the arrivals hall.

I found him before he found me, jumping on his back and kissing his neck - I think.
Looking happy - I think.

That was the intention anyway and that was how it was supposed to be. This was the beginning of a new and exciting life together with someone I love. It is not every day one is granted the opportunity of being with a person one loves. It is not every person who is even granted with the possibility to finding a person to love or who will even love you back.

Israeli Ms. Golden-Claws vs. Swedish Proper Flight Attendant

Already as I get to my seat on the plane in Stockholm I notice the differences between our two cultures.

In the seat in front of mine, a good looking woman in her early forties is doing a Hebrew cross word. Her seat is reclined so I can’t put my big bag underneath it. I pat her shoulder and say “Can you pull your seat forward so I can put my bag underneath, please?” I smile at her, she looks nice, big Israeli tits, tanned skin, lots of black around her eyes and her fingernails are well manicured - the very tips of them are painted in glittery golden nail varnish.

She smiles at me with a lost look that I know very well, it’s a look that says, “Oh dear silly me! I had no idea I was in your way!” and at the same time she is thinking “I very well know that I am in your way but I was hoping I would get away with it.” Slightly mischievous but not mean in any way.

She says sorry and pulls her seat up but then adds “Can I put it back down again when you sit?”

“Yes, of course, I don’t mind, but I think the flight attendant will tell you to raise it up until we are up in the air”

“Oh yes, until we are up in the air” she says with the same mischievous smile.

The flight is calm and comfortable since I get three seats to myself.

The Israeli Ms. Golden-Claws makes friends with the timid Indian boy next to her and they exchange numbers within five minutes. Then the family in the seat in front of Ms. Golden-Claws realise they are from the same country and a wild babble begins, the two little kids pop up and down on their seats like those things at the funfair that you have to hit with a large rubber sledge hammer. They are screaming and laughing so much that I actually wish I had a large rubber sledge hammer.

The light for “fasten your seatbelts” goes on and the pilot announces that we will land in 15 minutes and could we raise our seats up in the upright position and fold our trays up and fasten our seatbelts…

The flight attendant walks slowly up the aisle doing his thing, until he reaches Ms. Golden-Claws who is comfortable in her reclining chair, tray down so she can do her crossword on it.

Twice he tells her to put her tray up. The first time she does, but as soon as he takes a step she folds it down again. He backs a little and smiles patiently at her and asks her again to fold her tray up – and could she please also raise her backrest!

“Oh dear” Ms. Golden-Claws giggles as if caught in the act, but raises her seat.

As soon as he is out of the way she puts it back down again.

Another stressed flight attendant rushes forward and urges her to do as she is told, Ms. Golden-Claws apologises and does what she is told – again with the mischievous smile.

The plane starts to descend.

Suddenly Ms. Golden-Claws is standing up and leaning over the seat in front, talking with the Israeli family. The annoying three year old also unclasps his seat belt and starts jumping on his seat. The mother and Ms. Golden-Claws chat for 2 minutes before a very red faced flight attendant comes up to them and says that they really have to sit down and fasten their seats belts since we are landing very soon. Ms. Golden-Claws flashes a great big smile at him and says impatiently “Yes yes, wait, I must give her my phone number”

The flight attendant argues with her “No I must insist, you can get hurt, you must sit down”

Just as Ms. Golden-Claws says “that it will be she who maybe will get hurt so it is her own responsibility”, just as she utters these words, the plane does a sharp turn to the left and Ms Golden-Claws is thrown head first, passed her Indian friend and into the aisle.

I start to laugh, can’t help myself and get a nasty look from Ms. Golden-Claws who is helped up by the malicious flight attendant.

This contrast. The breaking of rules. The non respect for regulations and norms, this is the culture I am going to.
I am coming from the country with the people who love queues, adore regulations and would never ever even consider doing something that someone else might find wrong.

It takes a while to get used to and I don’t know if I ever will get used to it completely. Some days I'll probably be irritated by the lack of respect for rules or ways, cause with rules and norms life can be smoother.

A bit more boring but smoother.

But then on the other hand I hate to follow the stream or to do as I am told.
So most days I will probably just smile at the unruliness of the Israelis and feel a bit sorry for them because in their strife of living a life “doing what they want” they trip themselves up.

The amount of time it takes to shop, to drive through town, to get an official stamp is so much longer when everybody has to do it his own way.