Conversations

I am in Ben Gurion Airport with the WK, and we are waiting for our flight to Frankfurt. It's hard to believe that we are leaving Israel. It feels weird because we were here for such a short time, and because we know we will be back in April for the WK's Bar-Mitzvah. I want to write about Sunday and Monday, and some of the things that happened, but I don't think I have the cheshek (energy) to remember and type it out. Maybe I will try to write from the hotel in Frankfurt. (The WK and I are staying in Frankfurt overnight and doing some touring before we leave for Boston around dinnertime tomorrow night.) Actually, I am hoping to post this blog entry when we get to the hotel because I am astonished that there is no WiFi in the airport. I connected to it for a few seconds only and haven't been able maintain the connection.

Meanwhile, here are some stories from the week that I wanted to share. Interestingly, many of these stories happened while we were in cabs going from place to place. Yes, most of the time, but not all of the time, I initiated the conversation. I think it's fascinating to hear what "regular" Israelis think about the matzav ("situation") and about daily life in Israel:

On the taxi ride from our friends' house in Ra'anana to the airport, the cab driver and I chatted a bit in Hebrew. To be fair, this time the cab driver started the conversation; I just responded to him. At any rate, we were listening to the news on the cab radio (in Israeli, there is a news report at the top of every hour), and I understood some of it. Our entire conversation was in Hebrew but I am going to recount it in English. The cab driver asked what I thought about what was going on in Syria. I answered that I thought it was horrible, and that I felt terribly about all those children who had been killed. He responded that why should we feel badly for the children. Once those children grow up, they will just get weapons and try to murder Israelis. No, he said, he didn't feel badly about the children at all.

An example of typical Israeli interaction: On the taxi ride from Tel Aviv to Ra'anana, Pentheus and the CK called on the cell phone to speak to the WK and me. I spoke for a little bit, and then the CK specifically wanted to talk to the WK. The WK wouldn't talk because he was tired and cranky. I told the WK (in Hebrew) that he had to speak to his brother and that he should be nice; after all, the WK is in Israel and the CK isn't. The cab driver responded to me (in Hebrew), saying, "Mom, the boy doesn't want to speak to his brother. He's just a boy. What do you want from him? Leave him alone. He doesn't have to speak if he doesn't want to!" Hmm, not sure a cab driver in the States would interfere like that!

In the ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv with our friend, Shmulik, (before there was a shvitat neshek (on strike - think labor strike - with a we talked about how Jersualemites (people from Jerusalem) think differently than other Israelis. Shmulik thinks it's because those living in Jerusalem aren't exposed to the danger of rocket attacks as people in the South, and, to some extent, people in Tel Aviv and the surrounding areas. I think it's also because residents of Jerusalem tend to be more dati ("religious") than other, more secular Israelis. Anyway, Shmulik thinks that Israel needs lachkoch et harosh mehanachash (to cut the head off of the snake) in order to stop Hamas. A woman in line at the Dan Panorama felt the opposite way - her fear is that if we cut the head off of the snake, shyihiyu od roshim (there will be more heads). She specifically worried that is Hamas is held at bay, then ISIS or some other group will take over where Hamas left off. She also thought it was easy for someone in Jerusalem to offer an opinion when that person doesn't live in fear of missiles and has more than 15 seconds from the time the tzeva adom (code red) begins to get to a bomb shelter.

Our friend, Yaron, in Ra'anana, is my age (mid-to-late 40's), and he told me a story that happened to his friend, also our age, who was fighting in Gaza as a member of the meeluim (military reserves) with the younger soldiers currently in the  army (at ages 18-21, approximately). They saw a group of young children in Gaza who were running towards them screaming, "Help me! Help me! I'm boobytrapped!" and 'I don't want to die!" The soldiers saw that the kids had been outfitted with suicide vests attached to their bodies. The kids kept screaming and screaming, and the younger soldiers didn't know what to do. The Israeli army values life and soldiers are told not to kill civilians or women and children, but they knew that if they didn't kill the children, they would die from the blast along with them. The young soldiers froze, but Yaron's friend knew what to do: he shot each child once with a bullet to the head. The children died instantly and the suicide vest did not explode. But, as he shot each child, Yaron's friend had tears running down his face. He may have known what to do, but he thinks he will be haunted forever by the faces and screams of those little kids. (By the way, I asked Yaron for his explicit permission to recount this story in my blog, and he easily gave it to me. Yaron, and most Israelis, in my opinion, are worried about the misinformation that has been presented by the media throughout this conflict. I would not have told this story without such permission.)

I know I have written in the blog about my friend, Jessie, who used to be the Executive Director of B'tselem, the Human Rights Organization for the Territories. And, I know that Jessie knows and has told me directly that many Israelis find the work B'tselem does controversial, to say the least. Depending on whom I am around in Israel, I am careful not to focus on my relationship with Jessie. I have some Israeli friends and acquaintances, though, who know I am friends with Jessie, but disagree strongly with how B'tselem operates. Specifically, one friend asked me earlier this week if Jessie and I were still in touch. He then told me that he thought the B'tselem workers could (note: not should) be hung for war crimes because of the publication B'tselem prepares and distributes. He believes that while working for human rights is important, that the reports that B'tselem publishes is "airing dirty laundry" for the world to see. He believes that Israel works hard to value life and to act righteously, but that even when Israel acts inappropriately, even atrociously, the world need not hear about the actions so prominently. I guess it goes back to the discussion of the media reports from Israel and Gaza - his thought is that Israel has a hard enough time with its reputation - it doesn't need Israelis making it worse.

Finally, when we were in Tel Aviv, both generally and in the Dan Panorama Hotel specifically, I was surprised by how many tourists there were. We had heard so much about how tourism was down dramatically, and all of the cab drivers and a bunch of the shop owners had thanked us profusely for coming to Israel. Most said, kol hakavod ("all the honor") to us. It took a while, but at breakfast in the Dan Panorama the morning we left, I realized that most of the other guests in the huge dining room were speaking French. I said something about how I was surprised there were many French people at the hotel, to the cab driver when she drove us to a restaurant to meet friends (I'll write about that in another entry, hopefully). She (only the second female cab driver we ever saw this trip) said, "mahpitohm" (literally, "what suddenly," but more like "what are you talking about?"), and that all of the Jewish French were vacationing in Israel this summer because of the rampant anti-semitism in France. (To be honest, except for the "mahpitohm" I paraphrased what she said. I understood what she meant when she talked about all the terrible things that happened to Jews in France during Operation Protective Edge. I don't know that she used the Hebrew word for anti-semitism, but certainly that is what she meant.) I guess that makes sense - I hadn't thought about that. Then, on this plane ride (I am on the plane now), I read an article in The Week about how for the first time, more Jews are expected to leave France for aliyah to Israel. This year there will be more than 5,000 French Jews who make aliyah, ahead of both Russia and the US, which have larger Jewish populations than France. In a quote from the article, "They don't speak Hebrew and they're not religiously observant, yet they 'feel more welcome in Israel' than in the France of their birth.

We've just now checked into the Hilton Garden Hotel at the Frankfurt Airport. The WK is relaxing in a bath while I try to get the WiFi to work. Once I have WiFi, I will push "publish" and we'll get something to eat! Aufwiderzain!