Israel's 60th Birthday Party!! and, My Neighborhood is like High School, Only I'm Popular This Time.

As many of you know (or maybe not, either way is okay), Israel is celebrating its 60th Birthday this year. I somehow managed to arrive in the beginning of a balagan of holidays. I choose not to translate balagan because I only know a very impolite term to equal it. Also, 'holidays' might not be exactly the right word.

Certainly, Pesach is a holiday. That lasts a week, and you can't eat leavened bread, so you either shop beforehand and stock up on pita or whatever bread or pastries you might want, or eat matzoh, which is actually really good when you break it up and mix it with stuff. Yom Ha'Shoah is not a holiday, really. It is Holocaust Remembrance Day, so it is not a celebration. It is somber, and sad, and a whole lot of other words that basically mean that it is not a time to be partying like rock stars. There is usually a little bit of time between Yom Ha'Shoah and the next two important days, Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) and then Yom Ha'Atzmaut (Independence Day). Not so this year. The way the calendar worked out this year, Independence Day would have fallen on Shabat, and you can't be partying like rock stars on Shabat, so those two days were pushed back a bit, and it felt like one right after the other after the other after the other.

At least Tuesday during the day was normal, so Alon picked me up in his new car and we went to Yafo to the Arab Shuk (market) there. The whole thing is various kiosks PACKED with stuff. Each one was more overwhelming than the last. I had deliberately left my wallet in Alon's car, as he said he would buy lunch, so I wasn't really looking for anything for me. We ended up in this one place that looked like it was tiny, but ended up extending back so far that I couldn't see the end. There were clothes hanging everywhere. Everything from belly-dancing get-ups to furs to Hawaiian shirts to jeans. Alon picked up a pair of jeans and asked if he should try them on. I encouraged him. He put them on and I almost passed out. "They aren't too tight?" he asked me. I think my response was something like "God, no". Then he tried on another pair that I liked a lot, so much that I was forced to grab his ass and say "look at that. You have to buy them". Then he picked out a pair for me to try. I ended up getting the same pair that he got, only my ass lacks the perfection of his. I look forward to the day that he and I end up going somewhere together, looking like idiot twins, wearing the same jeans. But I digress, as I so often do, to talk about Alon.

Tuesday night was the beginning of Memorial Day. Keren had a lot of family things to do, as so many Israelis do. The day memorializes not just those who have fought and died for Israel, but for people killed in terror attacks as well, and almost everyone here knows someone, or is related to someone who knows someone who died in these ways, so I was by myself at home. Hot, my cable company, chooses to not broadcast most channels normally on somber days, so I ended up going back and forth between Fox News (yuck) and BBC News (yuck again). The next day, I had a bit of anxiety, and a bout of homesickness--not for a place, but for my friends and family, so I didn't do anything at all on Wednesday. Keren came over that evening, and I was still feeling anxious and unsure how I could deal with the huge crowd that would be a Kikar Rabin (Rabin Square, right down the street from me) for the performances and fireworks. Nonetheless, I agreed to go out to get something to eat. We ate at a place near the square, and there were already a bunch of people on the street and gathering for the show, some dressed up, some spraying silly string on each other, and all having a good time.

We decided that we had to go back to my house and get my camera. By the time we got back to Rabin Square, the streets and square were packed with people. Keren and I fought the crowds and bought some perfect tchotchkes. I got a giant inflatable hammer with the Israeli flag on both sides. Then I got a star that lit up in a bunch of different colors and hung it around my neck. I took pictures of everything, and then the fireworks started.

Bear in mind that I am fairly jaded when it comes to fireworks. I worked in professional baseball for five years, and every Friday night game meant a fireworks show. It was a great way to sell tickets. But I got bored with it. I stopped going to Fourth of July fireworks altogether.

But this show was something else. It was beautiful, set to music, with lasers making pictures on the side of the building from which the fireworks were being shot. I filmed the whole thing. I found myself intensely moved by it, especially at the end, when everyone on stage and all 60,000 of us in the crowd sang the Israeli National Anthem, "HaTikva" (The Hope) together. Of course, the only way I know the lyrics is because of a cover done by an Israeli hip hop artist called Subliminal, but at least I could take part.

After that, I texted my friend Manara and met up with her down the street. She and her friend Hannah had found the tchotchke I had been coveting all night: headbands that had springs with Israeli flags at the end--and the flags lit up because of batteries in the headband. I was totally decked out in Celebratory Israeli Shiny, Lit-Up, Happy Junk. The four of us had so much on (did I mention the ring I got that also lit up in various colors for only 5 shekels?) that later, people thought we were vendors. Not vendors were we, just shamelessly tacky and having a great time. We walked around the city for a while to go people-watching, but we found ourselves to be the ones watched. We were photographed by a few different tourists who thought we were either a riot or just four crazy girls. We all enthusiastically posed with our arms around each other. It was a great night.

PART II--My Neighborhood is a High School, Only This Time I Am Popular.

While my Mom was still here, we found a great little flower shop owned by a woman called Billie. She has great flowers and they are crazily inexpensive. I stopped there today after lunch with Keren, because my apartment needed fresh-flower smell. When I went in, Billie greeted me like a long lost friend and asked me what I needed. I said I wanted something beautiful and fragrant. Her English is very nearly perfect, so she understood 'fragrant', but kept accidentally saying 'pregnant'. I didn't correct her, because the fertility of flowers is not a particular concern of mine. She helped me pick out some beautiful Stargazers and some other pretty-smelling flora, and I stood there while she went to the back to put together an arrangement for me. She called me into the back and said "Come talk to me". So I did.

She asked how I was liking the neighborhood, and I said that I love it. I also told her that I sometimes feel lonely because, at night, I am mostly at home either watching tv, reading, or sitting on the windowsill with Rita watching the drunks outside the pick-up bar across the street. She told me that she heard I'm doing yoga now. I don't recall having told her that I found a studio I like, so I asked her how she knew. She kind of waved her hand and said "People talk". She also asked why I get lonely, and I told her that I haven't really met anyone who asks me out. I mentioned that it might have something to do with how tall I am.

She said: "They certainly ask me about you".

I told her I wished they would ask me about me, and she said that they aren't sure if I'm married, or have a boyfriend, and maybe they are a little intimidated by my muscles and my height, but they have certainly been asking. Evidently, she is known in the neighborhood as being something of a match-maker (news to me), so men have gone to her, having seen me in the neighborhood over the last 4 weeks. She has someone in mind for me, but he is an American who made Aliyah and is opening a business next to hers. I'm not sure that I came to Israel to meet an American, plus I'm all hung up on He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Directly-Named, but I'm trying to keep an open mind.

So the mens here do still find me attractive, even though I live here now. I have already been told by several people that Israeli men love tourists and visitors because they are seen as "easy". I don't believe that I, at my age and stage of life, want the kind of man who wants to find a temporary playmate. So I am wary of the men who approach me and realize that I am not Israeli as soon as I open my mouth and speak English. I have been told that I look Israeli, which I consider a tremendous compliment. But I don't sound it. Sure, I am loud and borderline-obnoxious like many Israelis, but I am loud and borderline-obnoxious in English. Give me time. I already know how to say "move it", "outside", "where are the bathrooms", "big, strong latte", and "Avi, get off the table". I have some other Hebrew, too, but I only use it when I have to. I'll get over worrying about sounding foolish. It certainly never stopped me before in my native language.

Anyway, I am having a great time with a few blips of missing my family and friends in America (and Big Bro in Brazil). I am where I belong. Plus, you ALL will want to come visit me when you read more and realize how amazing this country is. My door is always open. As I hear so often: "Now you have family in Israel".