Israeli Style Repairs

Dealing with simple, day to day household tasks can sometimes be a little intimidating when you have very basic language skills. Making calls, understanding automated responses on phone lines, explaining your problem, arranging appointments and understanding customer service advisers all becomes a challenge.

For this reason I put off dealing with the rubber seal which was coming away from our relatively new fridge. I didn’t know the words to use to explain what had happened and I just didn’t get round to it. Over time the fridge started to drip a little and I knew that the problem had now reached the top of my ‘to do’ pile. Luckily a neighbor offered to handle it for me and I was extremely grateful. They had problems convincing the shop to deal with it as the fridge was now out of guarantee. However, finally they were successful in organizing a home visit for me.

I was a little perturbed when the repairman arrived without a spare seal for the fridge. It seemed obvious that he had already made the decision that he would not replace it for me and was going to fix it up instead.

I waited for him to produce some kind of professional tool or gadget to repair the broken seal but instead he asked me for a hairdryer. He used this for a while over the rubber seal, expecting it to spring back into shape. It didn’t. Finally he asked me for some cotton wool and appeared to be cleaning the seal. I didn’t like to hover over him and left him to sort out the problem.

When he was done he showed me the seal which appeared to now be working better. However, when you opened and shut the door it did not automatically stick to the inside of the fridge and a gap remained unless you pushed it hard to seal the contact. I was not particularly happy with this but before I knew it he was out the door. On closer inspection I could now see that the cotton wool had not been used to clean the seal but was in fact stuffed inside it bring it closer to the inner door and help it to connect. I made a mental note to learn the Hebrew for, ‘bodge job’, which I felt sure would come in handy on many future occasions.

Israeli repairmen always seem to come up with improvised and crude methods of fixing things.

I once had a gas man come to the house to investigate the smell of gas. I was expecting him to produce some kind of gas sensory device to take a meter reading but instead my Israeli ‘Mr Fix It’ simply poured washing up liquid over the pipes and looked for bubbles.

Somehow they continually fail to inspire me with any confidence and they just have a very amateurish air about them. They are rarely dressed in any kind of uniform, their tool kits contain general household items as opposed to technical gadgets and they always look for the cheapest way to resolve the problem, even if that means it is likely to recur.

Yet again the language barrier clouds my decision making. Do I bother my neighbor again who already took time and effort to arrange the visit? Do I phone up myself and try to express my dissatisfaction? Or do I simply shrug my shoulders and live with it?

What do you think?!

Sharona B

www.judaicamosaica.com

Voting, Israeli Style

Yesterday was my first experience of carrying out my civic duty and voting in an Israeli local election. I guess that’s some kind of a landmark. I think however, those monitoring the election process must have wondered who on earth they had on their hands and whether I had the mental capacity to cope with voting at all! I must have seemed a little clueless whilst trying to cast my vote. The whole process is different to ‘back home’ and I didn’t really know what to do or fully understand the instructions I was given.

I was given two envelopes and for a while afterwards stood around searching for a ballot paper inside each of them and looking for pen to mark an x. After a while I realized things were done a little differently here and that I was standing the wrong side of a booth, which was hiding numerous slips of paper, two of which I needed to insert into my envelopes.

Having rectified the error I mustered as much dignity as I could and prepared to post my envelopes in the ballot box. The officiator, having surveyed my confusion repeatedly checked that I had managed to put the yellow slip in the yellow envelope and the white slip in the white envelope. I assured him that (even) I had managed this.

Later on I walked to the local supermarket and brought a trolley full of food. I asked for a delivery and was initially told there were none today (no reason given, just, ‘not today’). I stood for a while considering which items I needed the most and could manage to carry home. Suddenly the loud speaker unexpectedly announced that deliveries were back on.

Later on in the afternoon my delivery arrived whilst I was on the phone. I noticed the man deliver two boxes and then return to his van for more. I was conscious that I had a final box and assumed he was rummaging around in the van for this. Finally, call over, I peered outside to see what was happening. There was no sign of him. Realizing that my final box had not arrived I phoned the store. I established, in the best Hebrew I could, that I had just had a delivery but that my box of fridge and freezer food had not materialized. I gave them my name and address and waited for them to respond. The phone was passed around to a few people and finally I spoke to someone who acknowledged that one box was indeed missing. Rather than apologizing (An Israeli apologizing? Does that happen?!) I was asked whether they could now deliver my box tomorrow. As I needed some of the items that night I said, ‘no’. Their caring, customer-focused response was, ‘why not??’. I began to pull together a sentence in my mind in Hebrew, explaining that there were things I needed. Suddenly I realized that a better approach was simply to treat the question as an Israeli would. ‘Cacha’ I said (‘because’). Israelis rarely back up a ‘cacha’ with anything, a ‘cacha’ is simply enough. I am proud to say my tactics worked and my box arrived shortly afterwards.

So I guess I may be a little inept at all this new election stuff but I am starting to feel my way in dealing with everyday situations.

Sharona B

www.judaicamosaica.com

A Contented Moment

It’s the final few weeks of the summer break; the end is in sight. The kids are a little restless.

After a hot, humid day when no-one felt like going out, we ventured out for pizza. The older kids each bought a friend with and we ordered our food then looked for a table. There were many to choose from but all those free were covered in bits of pizza, spilled drink and, predictably, a selection of ants, wasps and flies. I asked if a table could be cleaned for us and the response was typical customer service, Israeli style; I was given a handful of paper towel to wipe down a table myself!

This week my husband returned from the UK. He came with treats for each of us; chocolate, magazines, teabags. It is lovely to have him back home. I asked him to bring me some colored grout from the UK as I prefer it to the grout I can buy locally here. Unfortunately for him, the grout caused a security alert at Heathrow as El Al could not understand why anyone would want to take home such an item. After much discussion his luggage was finally accepted.

Later in the week I sat outside in the shade of the garden, finishing off a mosaic table. As I used the newly delivered grout and watched the table transform itself as the grout accentuated the design, I had a moment of quiet satisfaction. It occurred to me that this new life of ours really is different to the life we left behind and I felt truly blessed. I am out of the ‘rat race’; I have no rush hour stress, I breathe in clean, hillside air, I am able to work from home around the needs of my kids and I live in a friendly community with good facilities. I sat there, thankful to be in Israel and doing something that gives me a lot of satisfaction.

Sometimes it is important to remind ourselves of the things we are doing right. It goes a long way to counteract our experiences at the other end of the scale. Living in Israel we can have days when people are rude to us, bureaucracy weighs us down and seemingly simple tasks take a ridiculous amount of time and effort. It was nice to have my moment of contentment and I shall hold on to that feeling as I go through a week full of frantic pre school preparations, liaisons with the tax office to get my paperwork ready for some new work I am undertaking in September and continued (and so far unsuccessful) sleep training with the baby.

Sharona B

www.judaicamosaica.com

A Day On The Beach

It’s been a while since I ventured out to the coast but today was to be a landmark day; the baby’s first time on the beach.

She had not slept all day and when she refused to give in to her obvious tiredness on the bus I thought she was bound to fall asleep on the beach and miss all the fun. But no. This baby LOVED the beach. Everything about it. My sleep deprived toddler beamed from the moment she arrived, giggled as the waves splashed against her little legs and smiled at the sensation of sand between her fingers and toes.

One thing surprised and saddened me; there was no beach side kosher café at all. Apparently, some have kosher kitchens but all are open on Shabbat, so have no certification.

Tired, hungry but happy, we embarked on our journey home. We bought a supply of snacks then got on the bus. It was crowded. We all split up throughout the bus. I parked the buggy where I could and had to get the baby out, who by now, was exhausted and needed a hug. I was surrounded by bags and the empty buggy. I sat on the floor and slowly she fell asleep.

A lady got on the bus and ended up standing near me. She took one look at me, crouched down with the baby and told me I should be sitting in a seat. I re-assured her that I was fine; I had bags, a buggy and a sleeping baby so moving along the bus was just too complicated.

She just would not allow me to continue sitting on the floor. She marched up to the back of the bus and organized a seat for me. She ushered me down the bus and then, bag, by bag, my belongings were passed down to me and positioned close by. The buggy was then watched and taken care of by a rota of people who made sure it did not roll around or hurt someone.

I ended up sitting opposite my daughter. When the lady next to me realized this, she insisted on switching seats. My daughter, tired out from the beach, got up, rucksack on her back and bag of chips in her hand. As she did so she tipped the packet upwards and they all came raining down on the lap of a man in the opposite aisle. He smiled and brushed the pile away. She finally found her balance and sat down next to me.

I guess, once again, I witnessed another facet of Israeli warmth and their natural love of children. On an average day out the baby will be cooed at and the kids chatted to much more than in the UK. To be honest we were all more or less happy where we were on the bus but to the Israelis, things were just not good enough. Their organization of my family's seating arrangements caused disruption and yet my fellow passengers all quite happily endured spilled chips, bags passed over their heads and being put on buggy watching duty with good spirits.

We got home and emptied our sandy bags out. As I was putting the towels and clothes into the washing machine, the kids asked the inevitable question, ‘Mum, can we go to beach again tomorrow?’

Sharona B
www.judaicamosaica.com

Israeli Nurseries - The Smell of Success

On Friday we had a party to celebrate the end of term at nursery. The kids all sat down and enjoyed singing and performing the actions for various songs. They waved coloured squares of material, shook tambourines and waved sparkly shakers. The parents videoed their every move and, being Israeli, chatted throughout, almost drowning out the kids.

When the singing ended the feast began. The kids sat down and munched through a whole range of treats. I watched as, one by one, they emerged from the dining room with chocolate mustaches and sticky hands.

The parents had clubbed together and purchased presents for the three staff. I felt bad because I was unaware of any collection. Perhaps it took place whilst my little one was off sick. They were each given a basket of goodies, but what I felt was more meaningful, was that each of them was given a piece of paper with a personal message on, thanking them for the care they had given the children. The message was written out neatly in gold pen and real effort had been made to make it a special keepsake. The parent who organized the collection read each one out to those present and everyone clapped.

It is at moments like this when Israelis really come up trumps. They have such inherent warmth to them and it is little touches like this that make me proud to be here and have adopted this homeland as mine. I think in the UK the onus would have been on the gift, but here, what was stressed and what will, I am sure, remain in the memories and hearts of the recipients, was the heartfelt thanks they received for what is, after all, extremely hard work.

I have been really impressed by the nursery staff. I chose a small nursery with a family atmosphere. The kids are all very well disciplined; when it is time to watch a video they sit down and don’t get up till the end; when it is time to eat they wait for the prayer before tucking in; when they have finished an activity they are involved in clearing away too. The place is full of music and laughter and the kids obviously enjoy coming.

Having left a tearful toddler with them for the last few weeks I know that my child is being well looked after. I know this because when she returns home she smells of the scent of one of the nursery workers. I guess she must be getting lots of hugs, love and security during tearful moments.

Israeli nurseries, like any others around the world, are good, bad and indifferent. I am so thankful to have found somewhere that I am happy with and that, more importantly, my little one has grown to love and enjoy.

Sharona B
www.judaicamosaica.com