Alien in Israel

For the past two days, I’ve taken the train from Rehovot into Tel Aviv to explore a bit on my own. I especially liked Jaffa, with its views of the Mediterranean Sea, its ancient port, and its hilltop garden. I arrived as the adhan was called from the minaret tower around noon, and sat by the clock tower eating a pear pastry.  Unhindered by an official guide or an abundance of facts, I let myself cross to another time around every corner. It’s an odd feeling. You know, rationally, that you’re just a dopey tourist who doesn’t speak the language, but you also have this light-hearted, wistful empathy with the ghosts who still wander the narrow, steep streets.

Later I wandered into the flea market, where men hunched on stools and threw rapid games of backgammon. No object was too mundane or useless to be up for sale: old cell phones, TV remotes, battered pots, used shoes, vinyl records, and metal keys. A warren of market streets and alleys offered art, furniture, menorahs, dishes, locket watches, and jangly hip sashes for belly dancing. Since bargaining is the custom, no prices were marked, so I had no idea what anything was worth, not even in shekels.

I could identify with this sculpture at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art.

My favorite interaction involved a taxi driver. After my time in Jaffa, I walked up the seaside boulevard to downtown Tel Aviv, and when my feet gave out, I asked a cabbie for a ride to the Ha Hagana train station. He informed me he only traveled north, so that station was outside his range, but he urged me to be certain that no other driver charge me more than 30 shekels. He said that since I wasn’t from around here, another driver might take advantage. I thanked him and began walking away, and then turned back. “Could you take me to a train station that’s within your range?” I asked, since any station on the line would suffice. He agreed. When I climbed in, he said “I’m playing this for you,” and popped on Adele’s “Someone Like You.” Imagine rollicking through Tel Aviv in the back of a cab, listening to Adele with a cabbie who sings along.

Much of my time here has underscored how difficult it is to navigate an unfamiliar place without knowing the language or customs. I expected to find English because it’s one of the official languages of Israel, but it’s more of an afterthought to the Hebrew and Arabic, occasionally making an appearance on street signs and tourist shops.  For instance, I would have welcomed English announcements of stops on the trains when I couldn’t read the Hebrew. I’m not used to having my purse searched as it was four times today, or seeing college-aged women and men in uniform everywhere. When strangers spontaneously spoke to me, I had to smile and apologize because I didn’t understand them.

But it all worked out. True, I have only a superficial acquaintance with Jaffa and Tel Aviv, but I have a better understanding of myself in a strange place. I’m not afraid. I’m independent. I can learn. I will be kinder to aliens when they show up in my hometown.