Ain't Misbehavin'

Originally uploaded by sarandkel.

photo: volunteering at World Pride

{posted by Kelli}

“Welcome to World Pride! We’re behaving!”
With that carefully rehearsed but ultimately erroneous phrase—confusing the verb “to behave” with “to volunteer”—ready on my tongue, we arrived yesterday at our first shift of the week at the information table at World Pride. Realizing my linguistic mistake in time, I decided it would be best to leave the Hebrew greeting to the native Hebrew-speaking volunteer working with us while Sarah and I would handle visitors who use English, French, and American Sign Language (not that we expect any Deaf Americans, but you never know).

Which do you think would be the easier language for me at this point: French, having taken a three-week class almost three years ago; or Hebrew, having taken classes, some of them intensive, off and on for eight years? While I can certainly have conversations in Hebrew that I can’t have in French, it is so frustrating to walk past a telephone pole here and be able to understand the French flyers with some ease but really struggle with the Hebrew ones. I frequently remind myself that French and English are related at a level that Hebrew can’t begin to approach—for starters, sharing the same alphabet—but still...

Hebrew class has proven to be the one refuge from the frequent intrusion of war. Twice a week, after the last student enters the room, my teacher closes the door and begins with, “Are we ready? Good.” and proceeds with class. She has made it clear that whatever is happening out there (north), for the next two-and-a-half hours we’re here learning Hebrew together. It’s very rare for “the situation” to creep into our lessons, but it did once, briefly and in a humorous way. We were learning the construction for “rather” as in “I don’t have a master’s degree; rather, a bachelor’s.” The tendency for many students is to use the Hebrew word for “but,” which is incorrect. The drill involved the teacher holding up a picture of a famous person and asking, for example, “Is this Indira Gandhi?” And we would answer in unison, “No, that’s not Indira Gandhi; rather, it’s Madonna.” Then she came to this one: “Is this Nasrallah?” To which we correctly said, “No, that’s not Nasrallah; rather, it’s Harry Potter.” Later, trying to come up with a possible connection between the two characters, I did think that perhaps they’re similar because their days are rumored to be numbered?

Proud yet modestly artistic puppets that are ethnically disruptive
Not only is it World Pride week here, but the following events are also going ahead as scheduled:

>Modesty Parade, the local Jewish extremists’ response to World Pride. I’m not sure how having a paid-ticket-only event inside a stadium counts as a parade, but there it is. Don’t even think of showing up without your floor-length skirt and long-sleeved shirt.

>annual International Arts & Crafts Fair, which is purported to be an incredible display of items from around the world. We’ll be there Thursday night when one of our two favorite Israeli bands, Tipex, is performing.

>annual International Puppet Festival, featuring an amazing array of performances in our neighborhood, many geared to adult audiences and featuring no language barrier

>Israel's Communities: A Festival of Ethnic Cultures, this year spotlighting Russia, Latin America, Persia, and Ethiopia

>queeruption, the 9th international, counter-cultural, queer gathering (for those for whom World Pride is, admittedly, rather mainstream)

When it rains (rockets), it pours (tears)
Things in this region remain the same, with no end in sight yet. Friends scheduled to visit in Sept. understandably cancelled; possible Oct. visitors still have some time to wait and see. We do expect to get together with a couple from our synagogue in DC planning to be in Jerusalem for a family wedding next month.

We’re excited to check out life in Manhattan for a few months this winter but are determined not to leave here on a low note (unless that note is coming from an air raid siren), and so wish to remain to finish Hebrew classes and do a little more sight-seeing in Jerusalem and points south before heading back to the states. Sarah’s mom said if we come home right now, she’d get us a dog. Meryl sweetened the deal by offering a year of free pet sitting. Sarah is considering rigging up an e-bay-like auction for the best “bring ‘em home” bribe.

Don’t mess with our Bamba
From the “Jerusalem Post”—
“Regulations issued by the Emergency Economy Board, an umbrella organization coordinating between major companies and the Israeli Defense Force with the ultimate responsibility for keeping the country running in times of war or natural disasters, require all sorts of workers in essential services to carry on their daily lives as if their homes weren’t literally under attack. The list includes the obvious employees of the national electric, water, and phone companies along with emergency personnel and journalists. Strangely, it also covers workers at the Bamba factory. In 1991, during the Gulf War, then-IDF spokesman Nachman Shai advised parents to take a packet of the peanut-flavored snack into shelters with them to keep their kids calm. It was decided that the country should not have to survive a crisis without the puffy peanut pieces. As these kids come of age, the term ‘bamba’ has entered army slang and refers to rookies.”

While we agree Bamba is good—imagine a peanut butter Cheeto—we both prefer its rival, Bisli.

“The treasure of the world is Jerusalem. The dew which descends upon Jerusalem is a remedy for every sickness.” ~Barhan ed-Din el-Fazari, lecturer in Damascus, circa 1300.
Yeah, well, there wasn’t any of that dew here to provide us with relief from this stomach thing that whacked both of us a few days ago. Our plan had been to travel to Tel Aviv to join the first day of queeruption’s festivities, but instead we spent the day—which was, ironically, Tisha b’Av, the fasting holiday marking the destruction of the first and second temples—dealing with an unwanted fast of our own. All is well now. More another time…