Every exit out of the RBS comfy haven and into the real Israel world leaves me with enough experiences to write a story.
This morning, as I stood in a queue for the metal detector frame at the entrance to a governmental institution, there was a guy in front of me, wearing a long black cloak, looking more like a robe than a capota, with peot below his waist. He went through and the frame beeped. Now, the guard woman there wan't blessed with much patience. Metal out - she commanded. He looks behind her and says, I have no metal. Goes through - beep! She growls. He says, ah! and empties a pocket full of dozens of coins in small change. Goes through - beeeeep! - Metal! - she barks at him. -No metal, he pleads. After a prolonged search, he discovered a key and some wipes. Goes through. Again - Beeeeep!!!
The guard takes him aside, barely holding herself together, and empties him all out. In the bottomless pit of his left pocket she discoveres a packet with dociments, miniscule nail sccisors, some string, and a clove of garlic. Yeah, I'll still be pondering this mystery tomorrow. What do you think?
Then I had to help an Ethiopian woman, who explained to me in pantomine that her daughter gave birth, and the husband doens't work, and she needs papers for that, and it took me a few minutes, and I explained to her that she is in the wrong institution, and we were both cracking up, and parted as good frends.
Then I had to buy some ant poison, because the invincible creatures are pretty much taking over my house, we've got ants in the pants, and the disinfestation companies only guarantee cockroaches. Ants cannot be guaranteed. No, I'm not kidding. Maybe it has to do with ancient Egyptian magic rules, as in, they are smaller than a "seah", or maybe because the only thing that kills ants is a nuclear explosion, or maybe because phosphoorganics are illegal, I'm not sure.
I ask the guy, will my cat be safe if I use this poison?
Sure, - he says. - and if she isn't, get another one. All cats are the same, no?
- No, actually not. My cat is so tame and lovely, she sleeps with me.
- Oh, bullshit! You have to throw out the cat and get yourself a guy! So you don't have to sleep with cats. And don't be picky, take whatever comes! Don't complain! You need a guy! May God send you a good one, but take him in! Don't pick and look for faults! Feed him! Pamper him! And then you can sleep with a man, not cats!
I say, don't worry, man, I've got 4 kids, they keep me busy.
-So what happened to your guy, he asks?
-Um... em.... he's gone, no more, good bye.
-No good. - he tuts and tuts. - Mamash no good! Get a guy and then you can come and take my cats also, I have plenty in my yard.
At least I got a discount. Nothing like flirting with an 80 year old. Why didn't I think to say, if you think guys are not all the same, you've got to admit that cats aren't, either.
Oh, but I suffer from severe case of staircase wit. No good.
I'm off to have a cup of turkish coffee with the pet show owners, they treat cutomers like royals. And then the Russian cashiere at the supermarket will greet me with, how are your kids? Are you done studying yet, or you'll study forever? And I'll say, oh, but has your daughter come back from the army yet?
No place like Israel.
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