There's this one guy that is often on my bus whom I told he's stalking me cuz we always bump into each other (ach, not literally you silly) and he was so surprised and like started apologizing and I'm like dude I'm jokin hehe. Americans. What are we gonna do with them. The only thing they're good for is tofutti ice cream. So I was in the health food store (lookin for healthy techina cuz the blood donatin person aka mada volunteer told me to get it so I can raise my hemoglobin level) and I saw 30 calorie fudge pops and I almost fell to the floor. Not so much from excitement but cuz they were sponga'ing. On the way back to the apartment someone was coming out of a store and he rammed right into me and it hurt and he didn't say sorry and I was so shocked and surprised and annoyed that I just yelled at him without thinkin (yea, that happens often-the not thinkin part..) "You're gonna go to jail for that, you know!" and I stomped off and felt a bit better.
So the other night I was at the bus stop and bitachon comes over to me and gives a hearty shalom and I answer back a lil cautiously cuz whats with this friendly welcome and then she's like you dont remember me and of course I don't and after a few minutes I do. She had been at the tachanat harakevet, train station, in Lod and boy did she remember me from all the times I passed through there and my terrible Hebrew and the way I used to talk and how I used to always say 'hi' to her so anyhow she's my new friend. Her name is Mari. Not like the American "Mary", but the Etiopi way, roll the reish and say it with a guttural kushi accent. I brought her vegetable soup after cuz she was so cold. I'm part of the bitachon chevra now and it's a really nice feeling.
Talk bout nice feelings-a few days ago my boss calls me at work and asked me to go to the post office. No prob. I love errands. Especially in Israel. Especially when I'm getting paid for it. So i merrily go on my way and it's merrily drizzling till I get off the bus and need to walk 5 minutes, then it starts to merrily rain quite hard and I consider running but quickly disregard that idea for a number of reasons, one being I didn't wanna slip. So I walk. Merrily. Head held high. And then it starts to pour. Not so merrily. I continue walking casually, happy that I'm wearin boots not so happy that they're suede. I start to quietly hum a (merry lol) niggun. I start to get lotsa looks. I guess they ranged from shocked to confused to jealous to disapproving to admiring. Most were admiring (of course of course). So I finally get to the post office (stopped off on the way in some food place just for shelter) and I try to be as inconspicuous as possible cuz remember how I'm stage fright and hate a hundred people lookin at me at once, so yea, try being inconspicuous when your literally dripping wet, you're tracking in water, you're makin lil squeaky sounds when you walk. I mean your shoes are, not you, and you bring in all the frost, fog and wind. Hehe. Not a winning situation, eh? Wait it gets better-the letter that the Rabbi needed wasn't even there. Yay. So then I went back. But I hate the feeling of wet plasticy materical on my skin so I took off my jacket and now people were really confused. It's ok, it keeps the relationship spicy (don't know between what and what or who but that's for another time). I made friends with real sabra lady at bus stop-told her she can't complain about weather cuz she's Israeli and they love and need and depend on this rain but I could cuz I'm American. So she's like-yes I like it and need it but only when I'm home. And we started discussing/arguing and then I'm like -what the heck, I'm also Israeli now so I guess I love it and we both laughed and joked and everyone else was just standing.
Please behave urself and go to freepollard.org
O and I met the coolest soldier who taught himself Arabic and goes to the Dome of the Rock golden place behind the Kotel and dresses like Arab and no one's allowed to go there, even Mishtara, and I ask him with mock sternness-"Does your mother know what you do every day!?" and he looks at me as if I fell off the moon (please no dirty comments on that one, thank you) and answers "Are u crazy!? For sure not!!"
Point of the story is simply that I know something that an Israeli mother doesn't.