Purim in Sderot (Better Late than Never)

Is it too late to talk about Purim? Because of camera issues, I didn't have my pictures till now but I don't want to let it go by without at least a quick recap. (Usually when I preface an email with "in short", I proceed to write a 75 page thesis but this will probably be quick. For some nice, emotional gobbledygook about Purim in Israel, see last year's recap.)

(Two more quick things:
1) Gobbledygook is in Wikipedia and would you believe there's more than just a sentence? YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO SCROLL DOWN TO READ IT ALL. WHO IS TAKING THE TIME TO ENTER THIS CONTENT???

2) Ech omrim "gobbledygook"?)

What does a cat on a tustus have to do with gobbledygook?

Nothing. So let's move on.

Holidays rule in this country. Thursday night I went to a party at a bar thrown by the organization of birthright alumni. I am the first to brag about my history of great costumes. This year did not add to the list. I am playing the "I was busy" card; only a couple of days before Erev Purim, I started to brainstorm. Sadly, those around me didn't share my vision. I was discouraged into saving "slutty separation fence" for another year.

At the 11th hour, I was running around Dizengoff Center begging the cashier at Home Center to lend me her red overall uniform to no avail. I couldn't find a Pizza Meter nearby to get one of their delivery uniforms and my El Al flight attendant friend didn't get back to me. Sigh, here we go.

One sheet of construction paper...check.
One cardboard box out of a dumpster...check.
Scissors....check.
String...check.
Marker...check.

And voila!

Hamantaschen Post-Iran.


Don't worry, nobody at the party got it either.

Five corners? Nuclear radiation? Never mind. Perhaps "nuclear Hamantaschen" or "Dimona Hamantaschen" would have made more sense....or maybe not. Hey, you take chances...they can't all be winners. I WILL NOT DUMB DOWN MY COSTUMES FOR THE MASSES!!!

(Ok, I'm over it.)

Friday morning, rather than go to any of the big outdoor festivals, I did something much more important to me: drive to Sderot. I've wanted to go for a couple of months and was never able to make it happen. If you don't know what Sderot is, I don't know where to tell you to begin. Here are a few links.

Before things quieted down a little following the incursion into Gaza, people in this country were just so angry and fed up with the situation there and the government's failure to do anything. It's strange for me to be here while it's happening. During the last intifada and especially while recruiting for Young Judaea Israel Programs, I was so frustrated by the way the vast majority of the American Jewish community just completely stopped visiting. I feel like those Israelis who have channeled their emotions into an actual visit are few and far between. I was fortunate enough to be able to come on a Federation solidarity mission in 2003 and there was no way I wasn't going to get to Sderot at some point.

So Friday morning, I awoke at 7 AM to drive with my friend Tal. On the way to meet him, I picked up a couple of oznei Haman (Hamantaschen) to give him as mishloach manot. According to a wise, Jewish man I know (let's call him The Internet), there are four mitzvot to fulfill during Purim.

1) Hearing the Megillah
2) Giving to the poor
3) Giving mishloach manot
4) Listening to Milli Vanilli's "Girl You Know It's True"

Just making sure you're paying attention. #4 is eat at a seuda (festive meal).

Tal and I with our Milli Vanilli costume starter kit.

I was hoping to do all four this year until I was told that, "Sorry, moron, the Megillah's only on Thursday night." Who can keep track with Shushan Purim and Purim Meshulash? (By the way, if you didn't get it, I am the moron.)

Fine, so shopping in Sderot was my version of giving to the poor (or in this case, needy) and I planned to have some friends over for dinner Friday night. As Meat Loaf said, "three out of four ain't bad." Or something.

Tal and I got to Sderot around an hour after leaving Tel Aviv. At first, I thought, "Man, the streets are empty! It's a ghost town...how sad!" before realizing that I was in a small town at 9 AM on a Friday morning. I'm pretty sure that had nothing to do with falling rockets. This wasn't exactly Gotham City. We parked the car and started walking around the small city center.

The first people we approached were two kids selling newspapers on the street. "Yediot Achronot! Chamesh shekel!" I gave the first kid ten and told him to keep the change. A few feet away, different paper, same situation. Didn't matter that I probably wouldn't read 100 Hebrew words. I was there to show my support and help the sagging economy. How to show your support besides spending money? Strike up a conversation with a local. I ask the first kid, "So what's it like living here?" He replies, "I live in Beersheva."

What the...??? HEY, I WANT MY TEN SHEKELS BACK!!! Punk.

We continued down the block and came across a group of yeshiva boys dancing in the streets for the chag. That was nice. It was uplifting to see some happiness there after what they've been through. At some point while discussing the amounts of money we were going to spend that day, one of us said, "Hey! What are we doing in Tel Aviv? We should come here and pose as locals! We'll make a fortune!"

A resident of Sderot who was nice enough to drive me around town.

Any resemblance to a middle-class Long Island native is strictly a coincidence.

Then the shopping commenced. We bought a few things at a hardware store, a food store, and somehow resisted the urge to buy ars-y jeans (the dangling zipper-chains attached to the back pockets made it easy).

Next stop: cafe for breakfast. Two things to say about this:
1) The waitress's costume was really cute.

"Rak lo tseva adom!" Just not the color red. "Tseva adom" is the name of the alarm that sounds when a rocket is about to hit. Her shirt had stickers of all different colors...except for red. I loved it. Great.

2) The waitress spilled coffee all over me. Aleph, it wasn't hot, and bet, I thought, "I'm gonna come to Sderot and complain about coffee??? Not a chance." I just smiled.

See, folks, Sderot really is dangerous.

Last stop, supermarket. I spent a bunch of cash there and, not surprisingly, I've already let some of the vegetables go bad....what else is new?

After about three-and-a-half hours, we headed home. On the way out, we passed one of the protective bus stops.

A closer look revealed the sign's donors...

How about that, my friends in Atlanta? See where your dollars go? For those of you American Jews who give on Super Sunday, kol hakavod (loose translation="good job"). Those who don't, I hope you'll consider. (Ok, I just went to the Atlanta Federation's website and see that this identical picture already resides there. So much for me winning the Pulitzer.)

So how was it? Quiet. Normal. No sirens. Just another day in Sderot. (Wasn't that a Jon Secada song? 1992 in the house!)

I'm so glad I went. It's important to support Israel these days and the people of Sderot need it. So whether it's visiting, giving money, sending care packages to the kids who are surely going to have issues to deal with as they get older, writing a letter to an American senator, or whatever...I hope everyone does something.

Better late than never....chag sameach.

(Did I say "quick"? I meant "meaningful".)


Live in Jerusalem and looking to help? This just in:

Fair for Vendors from Sderot and the Gaza Periphery, April 11th, 10:30- 15:00

The situation in Sderot and the Gaza periphery is difficult, and has taken its toll on all of the area's residents professionally, personally, and financially. Looking for a way to get involved without making the long drive?

Come do your pre-Pesach shopping at The Merkaz and support businesses from Sderot and the surrounding areas. The atmosphere will be festive, with fun gypsy music and stands with vendors of all sorts.

The entrance fee is only 10 shekels, free for children, to cover costs.
Please come out in support of these great business owners. For more information, contact Deena at 02-561-9165 *203 or at deena@themerkaz.org

Entrance to The Merkaz is at 7A Dor Dor VeDorshav, to Mozeon Hateva on Hamagid Street.

More of “What the *$@# does that word say?”

Inspired by Pant Steak…

Who saw “Hisardut (Survivor)” last night? Great way to practice your Hebrew with the subtitles. Until I saw “גו גתר”.

Here was me sounding it out in the second before the audio caught up.

“Gav? Gav ga-TAHR?”

Oh GEEZ…

This is starting to require its own blog category…

Thank G-d It's Thursday

Ok, so it's Friday. But yesterday was Thursday. And in this country, that's the last day of the work week. Has anyone made the "TGIT" t-shirts yet? I call dibs.

Today is Friday which in this country means shopping day. Or coffee day. Or "get as much done as humanly possible because tomorrow, you ain't doin' squat" day (aside from sitting on the beach...ha ha, Jerusalemites.) I should seriously do some shopping, as I still have my Pesach gift certificates from a year ago that I should probably use at some point. What brave soul wants to take me shopping?

Sheinkin Street's shopping district. This country makes me laugh.

I should probably start at Castro, whose clothing seems to be ubiquitous. I could be wrong about this but as a citizen, you are legally obligated to have at least one shirt with the red label hanging off your body attracting attention. I'm tempted to hold out to see if they take away my teudat zahut (identity card) at the end of my first three years.

One place I will not be going is one of my least favorite stores: Fox Baby, the cousin of its American counterpart, Baby Gap. I'm sorry but I hate one year-olds who dress nicer than I do. That's humiliating.

Clerk: "Awww, is the wittle baby crying because he needs a new diaper?"
Parent: "No, he's pissed off because his Dora bib doesn't match his sweater vest."

Why is this kid laughing?
Because his Hebrew is better than mine. Punk.

Ok, it's 9:30 AM, I'm still in bed, and we just lost an hour (did you change your clocks?) Coffee time. Mmm....coffee.

Kikar Rabin: "Lights...Camera....Ehhhhhhhhhhhh"

Tonight was Earth Hour here in Tel Aviv, an hour to turn off lights to make a statement about global warming and the environment (hopefully this statement was that it's not good). Thousands came to Kikar Rabin for a concert, sponsored by the city, where the band Knisiat Hasechel performed. At 8 PM, the lights went out in the iriya (municipality building) and apparently in certain businesses around the city who agreed to participate. The lighting for the band was powered by a group of spinners on an adjacent stage (When I was a kid, these were called stationery bikes. When the hell did "spinning" come along? What is this? Do Israelis call it "speeneeng"?)

I love the site of people in attendance to support the environment...smoking cigarettes. I wonder if they'll pass out plastic flyers with information about global warming as well.

Here's a short look. If you don't recognize the female journalist, that's Bar Rafaeli. She likes when I call her "Amalia". That and "Sugar Falafel".

Earth Hour for the rest of the world happens in two days. Who says Jews are late?

Now That's Service

Hello, my loyal readers-I'm home sick today.  Woke up yesterday with a fever and sniffle.  Change of seasons?  Perhaps.  And what did I learn on my first sick day?  That in many jobs apparently, you need a doctor's note for the time off to come from your sick days, not your vacation time.  That's new for me....not sure what else to say about that.

In between two of my naps and during one of my sit-around-and-do-nothing sessions, the phone rang.  I answered it and was greeted by "shalom, zoht Tia m'Machbesat Amir."  (This is Tia from Amir Cleaners.)  My first thought was "that's strange, I don't remember dropping off clothes there."  Surprise-she's not calling me to ask me when I'm going to pick up my 2002 Banana Republic black sweater which I refuse to get rid of.  No-she's calling to say I haven't been around for a while and is everything ok?

Wow.  I had heard about these calls but not yet received one.  My answer is that I recently moved to Kikar Rabin and their store just isn't so close anymore (and after my recent 72 shekel dry cleaning bill for 2 shirts and a sweater, I'm not sure I'll ever dry-clean again....although to be fair, that was at a different store.)  

That's some nice service.  The pessimist might say "don't take it personally, they're just trying to get your business."  Could be but it actually seemed like they cared.  Am I crazy?  

Now...back to my soup....

How Can Someone Wet Her Pants But Still Conjugate in Passive Tense?

Good morning, my loyal readers-I hope to have my Purim update online in the next 24 hours. I’m having some logistical issues in the camera department which will be resolved soon. As always, it was a nice holiday experience. I hope you all had a chag sameach and to any of my Christian readers (do I have any Christian readers?), a happy Easter to you.

Today is our company costume contest and several employees brought their kids to work. Lemme tell you…there is nothing cuter than little Israeli kids (quite possibly because they represent the small segment of the population whose Hebrew is on my level). And of course, when you see a baby, a dog, or a kid in the office, you are bound by the laws of physics to drop what you’re doing and pay attention to them.

So when I saw a little 5 year-old in costume, I made my way over to say hello. No matter what the language, you assume your “talking to a little kid voice” with inflections and slow pace of speech.

“Boker toooooooov! (Good morning)”
“Bat kamah aaaaaaht? (How old are you?)”
“Sorry, we’re aaaaaaaall out of Absolut.” Just kidding.

I always wonder…what do little kids think about immigrants who speak another language? At what age do kids understand the presence of different languages and countries? Did this kid think I was an alien? I assume Israeli kids figure it out faster than Americans because of all the English in their lives, starting with on television.

After about a minute of conversing, I said to the girl in Hebrew, “I think that your Hebrew might even be better than mine!”

She replies, “I know.”

Are they just born honest here or what? Is there even a translation for “white lie” in this country? Throw me a bone, kid.

Is there another situation in which a five year-old is better than you in some area? I don’t care who you are, that sucks.

A classic comedy about a man who must be brutally honest with everyone around him.
In Israel, this movie is translated as “Tuesday”.

Update: I just heard the girl speaking Russian to her father. I feel dumb.

"Ehhhhh....Mah Zeh Bracket?"

The wait is over. It’s everyone’s favorite time of the year.

Purim? I’m talking about March Madness! If you haven’t filled out your brackets yet, be sure to do so.

It was estimated that employers lost over one BILLION dollars last year in lost productivity during the two-and-a-half week period of March Madness. For my Israeli readers who aren’t familiar with this tradition, let me translate for you:

March Madness = coffee and cigarettes

In fact, I think seven of my co-workers are getting into March Madness as we speak.

Can you feel the excitement???

Anyway, without further ado, I will now reveal my Final Four picks:

UCLA, North Carolina, Texas, and Haifa University.

Haifa definitely has a long road ahead of them but the Fighting Bahais are due after underachieving each of the last seven years. Go Haifa U!

And a chag sameach to all.

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Broadcast to Make Fun of Americans

Lioz Shem-Tov is an Israeli comedian who recently was invited to audition for the next season of “Last Comic Standing.” Apparently the show, in an effort to become more interesting, has decided to open their doors to a few international performers. Lioz flew to Miami and was invited to come back for the next round in Vegas. A free trip to Vegas would be exciting for anyone but for someone living outside of the States, it’s even a bigger deal. (I want to use the word “chul” here but I know it’s not correct. Is there a word for “American chul”?)

Last night, Lioz calls me with help understanding a letter he got from someone at the show. (Raise your hand, olim, if THAT sounds familiar.) The conversation went something like this.

Lioz: “ ‘Please let us know where you will be location-wise on March 27^th.’ What eez thees? What does thees mean?”

Benji: “They just want to know where you will be on March 27^th so they can reach you. Your location.”

Lioz: “What eez ‘location-WISE’?”

Benji: “It just means location. (starting to laugh) I can’t explain it. It’s dumb.”

Lioz: “What eez ‘wise’? WHY DEH ‘WISE’? ”

Benji: (laughing hysterically now) “English is dumb. Forget the ‘wise.’

Ok, can we please settle this once and for all? As stated here, my fellow Americans, there is nothing correct about sticking “-wise” at the end of any word you want. Can we stop it?

This is a good resource, reference bookwise.

Bad English:
“Those treats were pretty good, candy applewise.”
“He’s a good basketball player, shooting guardwise.”
“It was naaaaaaaaaaaasty stuff, falafelwise.”

If you’re using “falafelwise” in a game of Scrabble, you’re cheating. (Did I beat this to death, dead horsewise? Ech omrim "dead horsewise"?) Maybe the English Ulpan idea isn't bad after all...

Happywise Purimwise, everybody! A holiday update coming soon…

Can We Get Roger Ebert on the Phone, Please?

Every morning, my day starts like clockwork. Alarm goes off, I stumble out of my room, and am greeted by the sight of my roommate eating breakfast at the kitchen table. This morning, the repetition of it all struck me. About 30 seconds after waking from slumber, I made the mistake of trying to explain the movie “Groundhog Day” to her in Hebrew. This is a rough translation.

“You know the movie about….ummm….there’s a holiday on February 2nd….about
this…ummm…this little animal that comes out of a hole in the ground…and if there
is sun, he sees his (grasping at straws to come up with word…no success)….and a
funny man named Bill Murray is in it…and every day, ummm...it’s the same day…

(silence)

You know this movie?”

Blank stare. I don’t know how to say “mental asylum” but she may or may not have called it when I was in the shower.

What a ridiculous way to begin a day. Ech omrim “can I have the last 60 seconds of my life back?”

Whoever knows the word for this thing,

where the hell were you at 7:15 this morning?

Israeli Culinary Lesson #494

From the Department of What the Hell Was I Thinking?

I just ate lunch at a little place with home cooking. Feeling adventurous, I accepted the worker's offer to try the ghoulash-like dish which he referred to as "fajitas". Up to this point, I considered my worst decision in Israel to have been going to the mas hachnasa (income tax authority) three times in a week. There's a new #1 in town, folks.

And if I ever decide to eat "shakshuka" in Mexico City, please shoot me. Sorry, Big Felafel, still searching for Mexican food.

Idiot's Guide to Israeli Weddings, Part Shtayim

Guess where I went last night? A wedding! Good times had by all…mazal tov, Mark and Hadar!

As an addendum to last week’s Idiot’s Guide to Israeli Weddings, here are a couple more observations I forgot to include. Read that first if you haven’t already…

--Upon entering the wedding hall, you may see TV screens mounted on the walls around the room. Whereas in America, you might expect them to display a video montage of baby pictures of the couple, here they show some random morphing color show that looks like the thing in Windows Media Player. I know Israelis aren’t big Mac users but I can’t help but feel that I’m missing something here.

Welcome to our happy event!

--Israeli weddings are much bigger than your typical American or Jewish American wedding. In the words of someone last night, “everybody is invited.” As far as I can tell, the invitation process works like this: from a height of 40,000 feet, a blimp drops several thousand invitations over population centers of the country. Whoever picks one up, and…proceeds to then invite everyone in the phone book.

--Israeli men are more fun than American men on dance floors. In America, this territory belongs to the women. Men may or may not dance and usually do so in a fairly non-descript fashion with female dance partners. Remember Bar-Mitzvah parties? Women were the brave ones who formed the circle in the middle while the boys were off somewhere being doofuses (I’m not sure the doofus behavior is connected to our age.)

Last night, once the house/techno/trance (Can someone please tell me what that stuff is called? I only know that I wake up each morning and thank my creator that it’s not on my ipod) came on, the men went nuts, dancing and jumping together on the floor, arms flailing furiously as they laughed, sweated, and had a wild time. We could probably learn something from them. (While we’re at it, I’d also love to learn from them how to maintain that perfect level of four-day scruff. How does it always stay that length? Amazing.)

--There is absolutely zero correlation between appearance and job in this country. In America, someone might look at a hottie patottie and say about a profession, “that job’s beneath her.” Here? Not a chance. I don’t think this says anything about attitudes, just the preponderance of attractive people here. I’m not saying the staff of servers last night were hotter than the Negev in July, but…ok, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.

(Stay tuned for next month’s article about Israeli fashion and beauty in the Atlanta Jewish Times’s supplement. Should be a good one.)

What if this woman came to fix your plumbing?

Some guy just threw an entire roll of Charmin down the toilet.

--And two more things about fashion: if I am lying, let G-d strike down every falafel place I’ve ever eaten. Some guy last night had a white shirt with a dragon on the back. Ok, it’s time…I HAVE GOT TO BUY A NEW CAMERA.

Secondly, after getting dressed for the event and walking out of my room, my roommate, a female, starts to critique my outfit of choice. I had on a solid, blue, long-sleeved dress shirt, jeans, and Pumas. Because I won’t let myself speak English with her, I’m not exactly sure why this shirt was not appropriate, or the Pumas, one of my few articles of clothing which apparently are cool. (I half expect one of my friends from New York to break the news that Pumas are now the most dorky thing in the world and what am I thinking owning them? If this happens, I am moving to an island in the South Pacific and wearing nothing but grass skirts.)

9:21 AM “Omig-d, Trevor, those are soooooooooooo cooooool!”
9:22 AM “What are you WEARING??? GROSS!!!!!!!!!!”

I hate fashion.

So, since, of the two of us, she is in fact the native of this country, I changed my clothes after spirited debate and put on something more Israeli (the color black). Upon my arrival to the wedding, I made note of something which I would call the 614th commandment:

Thou shalt not worry about possibly being under- or inappropriately dressed at an Israeli wedding.

Seriously? I really thought I might offend someone? With all the sneakers and designer t-shirts…not a chance anyone was gonna notice me.

Bottom line: everyone had a good time and that’s what’s important.

I think this wraps up this somewhat exhaustive guide. At least till the next wedding.

Did I miss anything?

De What???

Just a couple of days ago, I wrote about my effort to buy Pant Steak from the store. That was just the most recent example of my attempt to read English words in Hebrew which all Americans know are the toughest ones to make out. Just a few days later, I ran into another problem when looking at my bank account online.

Second to last transaction...“Who in the hell is De Na-SHON Tar-PEEK?”

Anyone want to take a stab? Or you can give up and check my Facebook profile. I laughed out loud really hard when I figured it out.

And since I volunteered a prize which I now have to pay up, Silver Spring Alan, if you email me a topic about something silly in Israel, I will write about it. (Lame prize? I couldn’t think of anything else…what, you think I’m making mad cash off this site? (Ech omrim “mad cash”?))

Postscript: Ok, so after a little bit of thought, perhaps it's best to not have my company name show up on this blog. After all, b'Yisrael yesh Goo-gehl (written like it's pronounced...and yes, a few weeks ago, my roommate actually "corrected" my pronunciation.

Somewhere in the middle of a discussion...

Benji: "Google."
Roommate: "Goo-gehl"
Benji's brain: "Did that just happen?")

So Miss Worldwide, you were correct in your second comment which has since been deleted. The rest of you...if you can't figure it out, hey, welcome to Israel.

Ten Bucks Says the Ethicist Has Never Boarded an Egged Bus

And now! Another Israel-based question for the Ethicist!

I participated in a triathlon in which drafting, riding close behind another
bicycle to gain an aerodynamic advantage, was prohibited. While riding alone, I
was overtaken by a large group of cyclists riding together. I had two choices:
slow down and let them pass me, obeying the rules but losing significant time,
or ride with them and break the rules. I chose the latter, and none of us were
disqualified. Was this the right decision? — JOSHUA KULP, MODIIN, ISRAEL

The Ethicist: It was not. Other people’s cheating does not justify your own. Nor were you limited to the alternatives you describe. A triathlete I consulted, Tim Donahue, suggests that you should have shouted: “Guys, watch the drafting. You know the rules.” If rule-breaking riders ignore your warning, he says, report them to race officials and “make a special point to waste them on the run.”

The Israeli Ethicist: What are you, freier??? (optional ars-y open-palm wrist twist in Holon/Bat Yam) Nu, be’emet! Evree-body draft in race! If you do not, you getting screwed. You mahst screw deh government! You know how much money they take each month for tax and arnona???

Hypothetical Devil’s Advocate: But isn’t that cheating?

Israeli Ethicist: Fahk* cheating! (both hands raised in air for emphasis)

Hey, Ethicist, have you read this? Welcome to the Middle East!

Lastly, how many olim have taught their Israeli roommates about the 90% arnona discount only to have their roommates casually suggest (read: DEMAND) that they get the discount for the entire apartment? The "suggestion" generally takes place roughly .0023 seconds after the conversation begins.

*Editor’s note: Please note that “fahk” in Israel is not profanity. See also “bool sheet”

More letters to the Ethicist from Israel:
http://www.whatwarzone.com/2007/12/eat-your-heart-out-rays-pizza.html
http://www.whatwarzone.com/2007/04/take-two-of-these-and-call-me-in.html

An Idiot’s Guide to Israeli Weddings

Well, my loyal readers, the weather’s heating up. You know what that means: that’s right…love is in the air. Wedding season is upon us so you best be prepared for it, Israeli-style. I had the privilege of attending a couple of weddings recently which gave me an up-close-and-personal look at matrimony, Middle East-style.

Now…Israeli weddings are somewhat different from in America so you’ll want to know what to expect beforehand. Buckle your selt belts, here we go. (This does not apply to religious weddings which I have yet to experience here.)

Attire:
Dress in this country is casual and weddings are no exception. I can’t even tell you the last time I wore a tie since moving here, if it’s even happened once. This makes for an interesting learning experience at your first wedding.

“Hey, who let the homeless guy in??? (pause) Oh, that’s the groom??? How’s he gonna break the glass wearing Crocs?”

Ok, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Although for some reason, it is virtually impossible to find a plain white dress shirt in this country. Apparently clothing manufacturers receive government incentives to print their white shirts with a dragon on the back. Future immigrants, bring dress clothes with you. Forget the ties.

I know you're not sold on it but wait till you see it with the cumberbund.

Gifts:
You've seen "The Apprentice"? Money money money moooooney! MONEY!

Gift shopping is definitely easier in Israel. “Ehhhhhhh…mah zeh Crate and Bah-rehl???” There’s no registry, people…it’s all about the Benjamins, baby. Or the Yitzchak Ben-Zvis. That’s right, cash money.

Guests are greeted upon arrival by a box in which to drop your cash gift, in an envelope of course. (So are you supposed to put a card in there too? At my last wedding, I just wrote my short message ON the envelope. Weird, I know…but isn’t the drop box/cash thing weird anyway?) Someone told me that the happy couple uses this money to pay for the wedding and you’re basically paying for your meal. There’s a joke here somewhere. Commenters?

Voting for Knesset or leaving his gift? I guess we'll never know...
(Hey, as long as you're here, care to officiate?)

By the way, the guy on the 100 shekel bill is Yitzchak Ben-Zvi, the President from 1952 to 1963. He’s wearing a tie. Looking sharp, Yitz! It might be time to change those glasses though.

Chupah:
In America, often the bride invites her hometown rabbi who then recounts his history with the happy couple: “When I first met Sarah in the junior congregation, I knew she was going to be a wonderful Jewish woman.” In Israel, the couple may or may not choose the rabbi by opening the phone book to the letter “resh” and throwing darts. When the two families join the bearded man under the chupah, the guests then join together and sing “one of these things is not like the other”.

Then the ceremony begins. The goal of the invited guests is to talk as much as humanly possible and pretend that a wedding is not happening. Bonus points are awarded for answering a cell phone.

Immediately afterwards, mass congratulation ensues. I wasn’t used to that. At my first wedding, somebody came up to me and said "mazal toooooov!"

(Confused look) "What did I do? Well, I did eat 12 egg rolls in 5 minutes. I just didn't think anybody noticed."

Reception:
Israeli weddings: where Bryan Adams songs go to die. Yup, heard it twice recently.

"Baby, you're all that I want...when I'm lyin' here in your arms...
I'm finding it hard to believe...we're in Hevron."

Performing at Madison Square Garden…or at Shlomit’s wedding.

After the traditional couple slow dances, the party begins with the DJ playing one of the following songs:

1) “Put your HANDS up in the air, put your hands up....IN THE AIR!” (That’s all I know. I think those might be the only words.)
2) “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, baby! (Ooh! Ah!) I wanna knooooooooooow……..if you’ll be my girl!

Holy cow-I can’t believe these are actually songs that are able to be found online. Is there anything not on the internet? Neither one of those however can possibly match the sheer ridiculousness of the following song. Here it comes...oh dear G-d...

3) A remix of “9 to 5”. I wish I were kidding. (Can people who are still alive roll in their graves? Dabney Coleman is rolling in something.)

Please note that the Israeli wedding is not to be confused with an Israeli dance party where the party does not officially begin until the DJ plays “Hips Don't Lie”.

Holy ful, I swear this is true. At my friend Maya’s wedding a few weeks back, the party’s raging, she’s dancing up a storm, and everyone’s having a great time. When Maya does her rounds to say hello to all her friends, I ask her “Maya! How are you?” In just the right voice inflection that can’t possibly be conveyed in print, she responds “b’seder!” For the love of G-d, does anything get this populace excited? WHAT IS NOT B’SEDER???

Would winning a gold medal be b’seder? How about the lottery? The classic Disneyworld commercial just wouldn’t translate to Israeli TV. “Dudu, you just signed a peace treaty with the Palestinians to end hundreds of years of conflict!! Where are you going?”

Ehhhhhhhhhh…I am going home! B’seder!

"Hey, Amit, your house is on fire!"
"B'SEDEEEEER!!!"

Of course the whole American concept of wedding crashers would never work here. The country’s too small…everyone knows each other!

“Hey, who are you?”
“Ehh…I am Moshe, I am stock broker.”
“No, you’re not! You’re Dudu’s cousin! You work at gas station!”

So there you have it. An Idiot’s Guide to Israeli Weddings. In conclusion, bring cash, dancing shoes, and be prepared to have fun.

Oh yes…and put your HANDS up in the air , put your hands up....IN THE AIR!

Geez...I almost forgot to include an actual picture. A happy couple.

Update: Part II found here.

More "b'seder":
Yiyeh b'seder and health!
Yiyeh b’seder and the bomb!
Yiyeh b'seder and its soulmate!

No time to read them? B'SEDEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!

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Thank You for Not Smoking (Except for in the Stairwell, You Freaks of Nature)

Two days in a row, my loyal readers...we're baaaaaaaaaaack!!!

Ok, we already talked about aliens invading Delta-Israel. I don’t want to be an alarmist or anything but I just got a company email which makes me question who wrote it. This sounds way too American to have been written by an Israeli.

Hi All,

It has come to our attention that some people have been smoking inside the building, where it's strictly prohibited.

We kindly ask you not to smoke inside the building/public areas. Smoking is permitted only in designated areas.

Thank you four your cooperation
in this matter,

The Administration Dept.

Here’s how I would have written it after one-and-a-half years of living in Israel.

Ehhhhhhh…chevre!
To ev-rybody who smoke inside….mah, atem dafukim l’gamre???

(optional open-palm wrist twist for residents of Bat Yam and Holon)

B’simcha,
Moshik, Mankal

(Do you like how I completely ignore the part about PEOPLE SMOKING INSIDE AN OFFICE??? Hey, I’m Israeli. Should I also make fun of the sun rising in the east?)

Udi: "Why is he posting a picture of an ICU?"

Anat: "ICU??? I thought eet wahz smoking lounge!!!"

Where Do I Find an Ulpan for English?

Hello, my loyal readers. Sorry for the recent lack of posts. Life as an oleh chadash is busy as always and I’ve had a packed few weeks with stand-up shows and other things. A couple weeks back, I was asked to perform for at a conference for Techshoret, an organization of technical writers and communicators. Here’s a short clip (if you don’t find Microsoft Word jokes amusing, feel free to call us dorks and keep on reading.....yes, I was a technical writer back before I realized that this type of writing is far more rewarding).

What else can I tell you from my last couple of weeks? Just a couple of thoughts:

• I know this isn't news and, yes, I might be the last person to figure this out, but Machaneh Yehudah kicks the hoo-ha out of Shuk HaCarmel (ech omrim "hoo-ha"?) I was in Jerusalem last Shabbat and had a lovely walk thru the shuk (does the use of the word "lovely" automatically make me old or am I aging regardless of my vocabulary?) Ten minutes in the Tel Aviv shuk on a Friday makes me want to put my head through a window. (Ech omrim "put my head through a window"?)
• Now that winter seems to be officially over....wow, that was pretty brutal, Tel Aviv. I don't know how we did it. In the meantime...see you at the beach!!!
  

I think that's all for now. I've missed you guys!!! (Anybody still here?)

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

Do you like impressions? Here is my impression of me examining various cleaning products at the store earlier this week.

“Panat…pantastayak…what the hell is Pant Steak?”

The first non-Israeli to correctly identify this word wins a prize.

(Thanks, Stacey, for the graphic.)

Haaretz Gets in Touch With Their Inner Tupac

YO YO YO, MY LOYAL READUZ!!! This is MC B-Love, kickin' it from the 03 in TA.

EAST SIIIIIIIIIDE!!!!!!!!!!!

I want to focus today on my main man Moziz. Moziz be CRAAAAAAAAAAY-ZEEEEEEE!

I knew it for a while, you know what I'm sayin', but I don't know if Y'ALL know it. Lemme aks you this: if I told you Moziz was frontin' all that time in the desert, not keepin' it real or being true to himself, would you believe me, dawgz? NO?

WELL, BELIEVE THAT!

Moziz was STRAIGHT trippin', yo!

(If Israelis don't understand what I just say, fear not. Neither do I, although do know that white youth in America like to listen to music lyrics like these. For more info on Moe, click here.

G-d, I hope they leave the headline.)