The second week summation

The second week of my adventure in the army is over. It’s been a great week with tons of learning, many more push-ups, lots of new words, and plenty of new friends. My group has really been coming together this week, and we are starting to work as a team. It’s very difficult to make it through the challenges of each day, its great to have so much support from the group. Soldiers in our unit come from Canada, the US, India, Russia, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, Switzerland, Hungary, France and Israel, and that’s just my immediate unit. Each seventeen or eighteen hour day has been planned second by second, and it’s been a very good week. I don’t have much time off this weekend, and will be in for the next two weeks. Thanks to everyone for their calls and emails, here are some highlights from the weeks past in basic training.

Chanukah in the army was really nice, the sufganiot were not that great, but seeing the candles and singing Chanukah songs at dinner time made it really special.

The army is much like an archeological excavation with less digging and more running. The sleep depravation, immediate chain of command, and endless activity seem very familiar, and I think I am adapting well to army life.

I have met officers from our unit and those in charge of the base. Everyone really knows what they are doing, and from our drill sergeant all the way up, I think we are in good hands.

You can never have enough gumiot. They are the small elastics which hold your pants up, and having many spare on and can really be a life saver when they get lost at least once a day.

I figured out how to properly put on my uniform, it looks a lot better now and I finally feel confidant that I look like a soldier. I also learned how to properly tie my boots, one of the more critical soldering skills to have.

While standing in formation a couple nights ago, it started snowing on all of us. The snow was a reminder of Canada, although my Dad told me that they don’t have much snow yet, a bizarre reversal.

In the rain/snow this week there was a magnificent rainbow right off the base, it was by far the clearest and closest I have ever seen a rainbow.

I now know all the parts of the M-16 in Hebrew and can field strip and reassemble it in about 1:20. I am hoping with more practice I can get it down to under a minute.

My first sit-ups of the army turned out to be more like modified crunches, several hundred more and I are sure I will get the hang of it. I am getting much better at pushups, my daily high is around 100 with 20 at one go.

Rain, snow, cold, wind, and hail all made better by insanely strong army tea laced with enough sugar to kill a horse.

Much more detail and many more stories during my next leave, sorry for being so short, but I have to get back to sleep and try to do some more catching up.

First week down

It’s been a very long and exhausting week. The transition from civilian to military life has been drastic, but I seem to be catching on quickly.

From my first day at Bakum (the central in-processing base near Tel Aviv) getting processed and receiving my uniform to starting my basic training in Michveh Alon in the North, it’s been interesting, and quite the adventure. I am located near Tzfat, close to Mt. Miron. I have never done so many pushups, or have to calculate the difference in seconds polishing boots or brushing teeth. I have been keeping notes of what I have been doing during the day, more on that when I am not passing out. I have to be on a bus heading back to the base in less than 10 hours, so more updates on my next weekend off.

The trifecta

After months, weeks and days of waiting it’s finally here. It’s a trifecta event, Chanukah, Shira’s birthday, and my army induction.

To celebrate Shira's birthday we are going to Papagaio tonight to eat several cows’ worth of meat with family. Shira's middle name is literally Chanukah, which makes it all the more special. Chanukah is Israel is amazing, walking down the street last night, you can just smell the latkes and sufganiot smell everywhere. It's going to be great to get out with everyone tonight; I need to limit the amount of meat I eat so I am OK tomorrow in the army.

Tomorrow morning I will be joining the IDF, the first one in my family to do so. I guess by the time I finish my service, my Hebrew should improve to the point that people no longer ask me about my accent. Over the past year quite a number of people have asked me if I am French, perhaps it’s the Canadian Hebrew accent. As far as the army, I should be somewhere in the military for six to eight months. The great thing about having the armed forces all in one branch is that I could end up in the army, navy, air force or any number of other places. Since I am an old out of shape shlav bet (second stage, condensed service for people older than 18) guy, I have a feeling its not going to be glamorous, but that’s all part of the fun. One of the exciting things about Israel is meeting new people from all over the world and experiencing so many cultures. The melting pot in Israel, the commonality everyone has is in the army and I am excited to get the adventure underway.

I don’t know where I’ll be or what I will be doing, but I am sure it’s going to be interesting. I do know that I will be in basic training for a month, probably in Michveh Alon, but I am not yet sure. From what I understand, I report in Jerusalem tomorrow morning, and from there everyone heads to Bakum (the main processing base) near Tel Aviv for in processing. Shots, x-rays, pictures, uniforms, equipment, questionnaires, and much more follow at Bakum before I go on to my basic training base and a tent. That’s about all I know at this point. I will post updates as I get to access to the computer; I hope to keep notes as I go along. From what I understand, I cant post any specifics while I am serving, more on that later.

Thank you so much to everyone for their thoughts, prayers, cookies and candy, keep ‘em coming, I really appreciate all the support.

Trapped!

I just got into the elevator on the ground floor and pushed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator starting ascending, the numbers on the display started going up. When it got to the fourth floor, the doors stayed shut and the display showed a long line instead of numbers. It then shut down, all the buttons not working and went to floor -1, the parking garage. After a moment, the panel came back on and I hit the forth floor button again. The same thing happened another two times, until on the third attempt, the elevator shut down and nothing worked. I started pressing all the buttons, and eventually the alarm button worked. The lobby man asked if everything was alright, and I explained how I was trapped in the elevator. He came down a few minutes later and used a tool to get the outside doors open, I pushed the inner ones aside with my hands. The elevator had stopped about half a foot lower than floor -1. I went back up in the other elevator, I don’t think being trapped in small spaces for five minutes has turned me off of elevators just yet, I still prefer them to the stairs. Regardless, it was quite the experience.

Personal Translator

Most of my friends in Israel are English speaking or Anglo-Saxons. Since most everyone in the Anglo community speaks both English and at least some Hebrew, you would think that being an English/Hebrew translator is not very complicated. Everyone is an amateur translator in some way or another, interacting with Israeli society in any capacity requires a degree of Hebrew comprehension.

When I first came to Israel and went to a primarily American, English speak school, I was not exposed much to Hebrew. Even though I was living in Jerusalem, I really didn’t get out much and talk to the people on the street. The first thing I learned in Hebrew shortly after I arrived was all the toppings for a falafel/shwarma and how to order one. This past summer I ran into a couple fellow Ulpan students who were talking about the exact same thing. Since ordering food is one of the more important things to know how to communicate, they learned how to ask for a falafel, but referred to the toppings by color. So they would go to the local store and say “Can I have just a dab of the red, plenty of green, a bit of the orange, and a little more white?” Fortunately, I had the food thing down within moments of arriving. I didn’t know how to say anything else, ask for a cup, or understand anyone, but I did know how to order a mean shwarma. The next thing I learned in Hebrew was how to take the bus. I learned how to buy a bus ticket and how to scream “REGA” in order for the bus driver not to drive off with someone half in, half out of the bus.

When I first met Shira and discovered she was a translator, I was not very impressed. After all, doesn’t everyone speak Hebrew and English? Little did I realize that having a detailed command of English and Hebrew, and how to translate back and forth is more than an amazing skill, it’s a form of black magic. When I realized that in comparison my Hebrew skills were less than primitive, and my English skills could use work, I started appreciating what exactly goes into proper translation. Understanding the cultural differences between the languages, translating jokes to press briefings, I was blown away. It’s a really amazing skill, and something which I think everyone should have. Shira didn’t always plan on becoming a translator; she sort of came across the two year MA program in translation and interpretation in Bar Ilan University by happenstance. I think it’s a natural fit; Shira grew up speaking English at home, and Hebrew in school from a very young age. I don’t think I would ever be on the level required to even get in the program, I see a number of additional Ulpans in my future with slow and steady progress. Understanding both languages fully and being able to effortlessly switch back and forth is impressive, but sight translation, i.e. reading a newspaper in one language and simultaneously speaking in the other is amazing.

I am just happy to have my own personal translator, it makes figuring things out so much easier, and I could never have gotten through Ulpan if it was not for her help.

Waiting in the Misrad HaRishui for a drivers licence

Yesterday morning I decided to do one of the things olim (new immigrants) and Israeli’s alike abhor, go to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles (Misrad HaRishui) and get my drivers license.

Getting a drivers license is not a simple process and takes many steps, each of which involve arguing and of course, plenty of waiting. According to the AACI’s (The Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel) website, new immigrants, temporary residents and returning residents are permitted to drive in Israel with their foreign or international driver's license for one year following their date of entry into Israel. In addition, tourists who have resided in Israel for more than one year are obliged by law to drive with an Israeli driving license. The Misrad HaRishui allows olim and tourists who are in Israel to transfer their foreign driver's license for an Israeli driver's license within three years of arrival. They are exempt from taking the written exam. However, a driving test is compulsory.

In my particular case, I am heading for the army next week, and decided it was high time to get my Israeli license. The first step is to go to one of several glasses shops and get an eye test taken. It’s a simple computerized test, after about five minutes the woman at the counter handed me the green paper. The paper is green, has my photo on it, several boxes for driving instructor comments, the licensing ministry’s comments and a medical form. I went to take the eye test months ago in Jerusalem. I got my green paper but just swept it under the rug and conveniently forgot about it. After I realized it may be a good idea to get my license and be able to drive in the police and in the army, I decided to finish the process. After getting a physical and all the medical information filled out on the back of the green paper with a signature and a stamp of approval.

Its a little known fact that Israelis are crazy about stamps. Nothing is official unless it has one. Many people carry around little pocket stamps in order to stamp in addition to their signature. There is a whole story about our family car years ago and finding the right stamp, but that’s a whole other story.

Thinking I was now on my way to getting my Canadian drivers license switched to an Israeli one, I called a driving teacher and asked to schedule a test. In Israel tests are taken with a driving instructor’s car, he waits outside, and the official tester administers the road test. The helpful English speaking instructor asked me if I had the stamp from the licensing ministry, and I said no, seeing as I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained I had to go to Misrad HaRishui (the licensing ministry) and talk with them to get approval in order to take the test.

I arrived at their main office in Holon, just south of Tel Aviv, at about 8am. I had no idea how to get there, but a couple lucky bus changes at random stops landed me exactly where I needed to be. The scene inside the office was already chaotic. People were everywhere, running, shouting, waiting in line and talking loudly on their cell phones. The guard told me to go to window 8 and ask for a ticket. It took me a minute to find window 8 under the sign “foreign licenses”. Once I got my number, I settled in to wait for my turn. I found it hilarious when I later realized that the entire room was pasted in no cell phone posters and everyone sitting underneath them shouting at someone on the phone. I wondered what would happen if you had a waiting room full of people and no one was actually allowed to talk on the phone. Here everyone has at least a couple of phones, and since incoming calls are free, everyone is always talking with someone. The waiting room is large, brightly lit and filled with rows of chairs. On one side of the room Israelis were queued up to get and renew their drivers licenses. On the other side of the room were two counters, one for taxi licenses, and the other for foreign license exchange. The taxi drivers’ side of the room was filled with tired looking middle aged men, all looking like they could use an extra cup of coffee. It was hard to tell if their shifts were just beginning or just ending, but everyone sat quietly, reading the paper and waiting their turn. At the foreign license desk, people were conversing in every language known to man, English and French mixing with Arabic and Russian.

I waited and waited, time slipping by. I kept trying to do something like count the ceiling tiles, but my attention kept drifting back to the people and the stories going on all around me. The room seemed to divide evenly, after an hour or two of watching the door and observing new arrivals, I got a sense of where people were going just by the way they looked. The pair of teens wearing Abercrombie and Fitch naturally made their way to the left side of the room to sit and wait for the foreign license clerk to call their number. Their accessories were laptops and ipods, running shoes and baggy jeans. In contrast, when the tall, dark guy with greased back hair and a jean jacket walked in, I had the feeling he was heading to the right, and the Israeli license line. It may have been the greased back hair, or maybe it was the too tight black sweater or jeans. Perhaps it was the hair band, or the leather boots. His accessories were a pack on Nobles (the cheapest cigarettes in Israel) and a sheaf of papers. I love it how there is a look here combining a 50’s era greaser, imagine the Fonz, then add in a splash of tight Euro fashion and an Israeli flair, and you have, well, you have to see it to understand. In any case, you could definitely tell where people were going.

The place was packed and everyone was jostling in line when the loudspeaker blared “the fast line is now open in the lobby”. It was as if they announced they were giving away free cars or ice cream. The entire room emptied out as if hundreds of people had been sucked out by a vacuum. Startled, the girl seated next to me asked what was going on, I can see how easily someone could have misunderstood the announcement. If they had said “clear the building, there is a bomb in the basement and Jack Bauer is on the way” people could not have emptied out quicker. It would follow that the non native Hebrew speakers would be left standing at the counter trying to figure out what has just happened. The olim were left standing at counter 8, watching the big hand of the clock slowly crawl by.

Number after number, hour after hour, it finally came, my turn was next! I was getting ready to dash to the window and make sure no one snuck in front of me, when the loudspeaker came on again with another announcement. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, we would just like to let you know that the clerks will be on break from 10 to 10:30”. Glancing at my watch, it was now 9:59, and of course I was stuck waiting. I just took a deep breath, reassured myself that I was next in line, and went back to playing Monopoly on my cell phone.

When they finally called my number I kind of felt guilty that I was not letting the waiting crowds go on ahead of me. I did wait three hours though, so I guess it was OK to take my turn. The clerk asked to see my green paper, my license and my teudat zahut (identity document). As expected, it was not exactly smooth sailing.

The clerk asked me when I came to Israel, looked over the stamps in my passport, and glanced at my Ontario drivers’ license. She told me she was sorry, but since I didn’t have the document from the Ministry of Absorption stating I was a returning resident, she could not give me permission to take the written and practical tests. I explained how I was in Israel for more than a year now, was no longer a returning resident, and could she please just stamp the paper? She told me that since I now had residency, it would help if I left the country for four months and came back, which would make me a returning resident and allow me to just take the test. Since most everyone getting their license here must take 28 lessons, I really did not want to go that route. I explained that I was going to the army in a week, and it seemed a bit crazy that I would have to go back to Canada, where my drivers license is valid until 2011, in order to get a license in Israel. I think by that point she was bored with the whole affair and just gave me a couple stamps on my green paper. She just said “OK, just take the test and no lessons. Next?”

It was so simple, I wanted to cry. Three and a half hours of waiting, ten minutes of explaining / arguing and I can now study for the written test, but that’s a completely different story.

More socks, more army gear

I found it a little strange to get my new backpack handed to me by the shop owner in a big plastic bag. It’s sort of like the conundrum with the chicken and the egg. If my bag comes in a bag, and that bag came in a box which came in a box, where does it end?

Walking around Tel Aviv the other day, I stumbled across a knapsack store. After explaining to the owner that I was going in to the army and was looking for a bag to carry all my gear, he showed me all the options. He spent ten minutes reminiscing about his army experience and wishing me a huge Mazel Tov. He said he would love to be starting the army with his future ahead of him. It was nice talking to him about the army, it really is a shared experience everyone has in common. Showing me around the store, I didn’t realize bags came with so many options, and features. He recommended a bag with rails on the top and bottom to attach boots and things to; it’s a mammoth 70L bag, almost big enough for me to fit inside. If you travel around the country, you always see kids backpacking with impossibly huge packs going anywhere and everywhere. It looks a bit better on me because of my size, but that’s the idea. It has a nice padded back, and with all the gear I have purchased so far, it’s only half full.

I bag was marked down from 200, and had a sticker advertising a discount, but when the guy asked me for 195 (in cash), including tax, I was too tired to argue. Normally, tax is included in everything, and I guess he wanted to take advantage of a greener. Its nice to know when you’re getting taken advantage of, because then at least you can make a judgment call that the extra 15 shekels is still worth it.

With my new backpack in tow, I met up with Josh and we got all the little odds and ends on my list. I have a feeling the people in the store thought I was a bit crazy, I don’t think many people come in and get excited about buying electrical tape and ear plugs. I figure that since I am only going to the army once, I should get all the things I may need, or they recommend.

I asked one of the vendors if he sold army socks. He said “well sir, I do have a few pairs, but they are more expensive than normal socks because they are very, very special”. It’s a warning sign when people are two polite to you, it usually means they are really going to jack up the price and bargaining is going to be required. He explained that US Marines use these socks, which came in a package labeled HIKE SOCKS and in small print below US MARINE CORPS. Now, I know Nike, but I have never heard of the internationally acclaimed company Hike. I guess they figure if you print USMC and stick an American flag on the package of Israeli army socks; it makes it a more valuable commodity. He ended up charging a couple shekels more than I paid elsewhere, considering they look like nice padded socks, and they are Hike, it was worth it. I am really going to be making a fashion statement in the army. I am sure my officer is going to come up to me and ask, “Wait, are those Hike?!” Nondescript grey socks go a long way to define your personality, or at least that’s the impression I got from the sock vendor.

While in the shuk buying fruit and veggies for dinner, Josh and I both got an SMS at the same time. Each SMS was personalized with our names. It was something like: “Would you like to come celebrate your enlistment with “Sidney” at a party including unlimited alcohol Thursday night?” I was confused who had both our numbers and knew we were both joining the army, especially considering I was going into shlav bet, and he was going to machal. We called them for more information and they called me back several times. After getting in touch with a number of people going in with us, most seem to have got the message as well. There is a big party this Thursday night in Hertzalya for everyone joining, but I was more concerned how they got our numbers. It seems that my sense of privacy of information is completely wrong; its nothing like it is in Canada. If you want to give enlisting soldiers free booze, the army is happy to give you a list of names and numbers. I found it bizarre, but it’s just another interesting fact to figuring out Israel.

Google, cumin and inducing labor

People get to my site through Google by searching for all types of strange things. Looking through the site statistics, I found a keyword entry yesterday titled “tea from ground cumin to induce labor”. This is one of the stranger topics people have searched for and ended up at my blog. I have never written about tea, so I assume they found my recipe including cumin or the story about Dougie’s spicy food inducing labor.

I don’t know one way or the other, but I did find a comment on a message board about it. “My midwife said that the reason Mexican food works sometimes is because cumin does something with the blood vessels of the uterus and makes it contract.” I don’t know the answer one way or another, but I think the advice from the Herbalist makes sense: “Why are you trying to induce your labor? Babies come in their own sweet time unfortunately, and though it can be frustrating, they will arrive when it's time. If, however, you are having problems, you should seek professional medical assistance immediately. Inducing labor is very dangerous and could be fatal to you and your child, so please seek medical help.”

So keep on eating tacos and don't forget to invite me over for dinner. Oh, and Mazel Tov on the new addition to the family!