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.