Today I have two goals:
1) Bring extra towels to my parents' vacation rental for the new tenants and figure out why they are complaining that there aren't enough sheets.
2) Get to my aunt's house for Passover (it starts tomorrow night, y'all!)
No too difficult, right?
FALSE.
First, I had to buy one more towel so I went to the grocery store (they sell all sorts of stuff there). I stood in line for what seemed like ever behind a two women, one of which meandered around the store gathering more things and periodically bringing them back to the line. An old man cut in front of them explaining that he only had one thing to buy (a bag full of beets). I glowered at him while I brandished my one towel. He moved to another line and I flatter myself that I had something to do with that.
Finally, after procuring the towel, I waited and waited and waited for the bus while every bus in all of Israel that wasn't going where I wanted to go drove by. Teenagers were waiting for a bus to the beach and were filling the air with shrieks and a toxic combination of aftershave and perfumes named after pop stars.
The bus was fairly full, and I was kind and considerate (big mistake) so I stood so other could sit. It turns out that this is a rookie mistake. Because as the bus pulling into my stop, my grip began to slide and I fell down the steep bus stairs, dangling by my arm. In Seattle, for the most part people would ask if you are okay. Here, a man shook his head at me and said "I told you! You should have sat down!" (Never mind that I don't remember him saying any such thing.)
It's not rude a$$holes, it's just Israelis!
I took a shared taxi to Netanya, squished into the back corner with my purse, backpack and four towels on my lap while a Russian lady sat directly next to be even though there were other seats. I should have told her to move, but I was saving my strength (I would need it).
It's not inconsiderate, it's just standard Israeli protocol!
I hollered at the driver to get him to stop at my stop and schlepped over to the apartment building. Where a middle aged heavy Russian man answered the door in his underpants. It turns out that we have no shared language what so ever. I held up the towels and he told me that this was his apartment. I left the towels and called the property manager who called another person to come and translate for us. I went into the apartment only to discover that they wouldn't let me count the number of sheets. I explained that I needed to know how many sheets they needed and they swore that there was a child sleeping the room with all the sheets so I couldn't go in. It seems that they thought I didn't trust them about the lack of sheets. Then they started shouting at me in English and Russian:
"We rent apartment without seeing! We give you money without seeing! Last year, not a problem! Kid sleeping in room! This not enough for six people!"
It's not you, it's just disgruntled Russians!
Finally, I said that I would call the property manager and left, exclaiming "THIS ISN'T MY JOB!"
I stomped out to the main street, intent on treating myself for having dealt with this nonsense. I got a taxi and paid way too much for it. I am now sitting in a cafe, having spent way too much money on a late lunch of a cinnamon roll and iced latte (soy milk has protein and vitamins, so it's healthy and balanced, right?).
Here you can see me listening to my favorite radio station from Seattle on the interweb! I was getting happier and happier with every song. My elation culminated in this song:
I hummed and swayed back and forth, smiling contentedly. Maybe today isn't so bad.
"Ha ha!" Laughed the universe!
Then the radio station started their new program where they talk to local community leaders about feel-good community leader things. NO!!! A call-in talk radio show?!? What has become of you 103.7 The Mountain? I leave and this happens? WTF, yo.
It's not you, it's just Israel.
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