Only In Israel #21: Of Cabs and Mitzvahs

A friend of mine recently took ill, and was sent by her doctor to Shaare Tzedek Hospital in Jerusalem. She’s a new olah, with no family in Israel, so when she was admitted, she decided to call me, hoping to get a visitor, a listening ear, and someone who spoke Hebrew to come help her out in the hospital.

So, after much dithering on my part (it was late at night, and I do have a little one at home and a husband to feed supper) I called a cab, and away we went.
The cab driver, a middle aged guy who was not wearing a kippah, noticed my morose mood on my face, and asked what was doing. I replied with the tale ofmy friend the olah, who needs someone by her side in the hospital, and how I’m jumping in a cab to go help her out, since I’m the only person available help her.

He listened, interjecting remarks, and then replied, “You know, you’re doing a BIG mitzvah. Actually, two big mitzvot. One, you’re visiting a sick friend who needs you. Two, you’re being like family to her- doing such a great chesed by coming to her aid as a new person in Israel without family.”

He continued without prompting. “You know, you’re like my wife. She goes up to the Rav of our Beit Knesset and asks, who are families that need food, who need support- and quietly, privately, she sends them food and necessary items, she offers them a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear. It’s a big mitzvah.”

I listened, heartened to hear that one more member of Am Yisroel is doing such a wonderful thing.

He drove me to my husband, who I picked up on the way, nad then to Shaare Tzedek. When I asked for the price- he quoted something very low. When I asked why- he said, I too want a share in this mitzvah.

How’s that for OII!!

OII: Seasons and Buses

Just noticing that again, just in this wonderful country that we call Israel, even the buses wish you a Shana Tova and a Gemar Chasima Tova on their flashing signs which also state which place they are going.

And I wish you all the same- to all my readers, a Shana Tova- happy New Year- and a Gemar Chasima Tovah. May we all continue to be inscribed in the Book of Life- filled with happiness, joy, blessing, health, and prosperity.

OII #20- Buses Yet Again

Yet another OII happened to me today. I was on a busy bus, standing with my book bag on my shoulder and cellphone in other hand, while trying to cling to a bus pole so I wouldn't fall down. (That has happened to me on buses before)When I reached the busy Bar Ilan intersection, a woman with a baby in a stroller got on. Someone got up for her (which is nothing new, but still very nice), and she sat down as the bus continued on its way.

I then felt a tap on my shoulder. Someone behind me was waving a bus ticket in my face. "L'vir et zeh l'nahag. Paam Achat." I didn't understand the rapidly mumbled Hebrew, so I asked him to repeat himself. "Pass this up to the bus driver. One time (punch)." I looked in front of me- but there was no way I was getting through the mass of humanity in front of me just to get a punch for this man. I looked back, and he pointed to the woman with the baby. "Rak L'vir et zeh." "Just pass it on." And so I did.

Her nearly full bus card was passed from passenger to passenger, duly punched by the driver, and handed safely back to the mom.

I guess I can't imagine this happening anywhere else but Israel.

OII #19- Of Bus Drivers and Brissim

So, this past Friday, I had the privilege of attending a very good friend of mine's son's bris. She lives in my neighborhood, but the bris took place in the center of town, the better to accommodate her relatives that were arriving from all over Israel.

As required, I prepared Shabbos ahead of time, and left my house to take the bus to the center of town to make it in time for the bris. The simcha was lovely, the joy heartfelt, and the main participant wailed his way into the covenant of Avraham Avinu.

I waited till a neighbor was ready to leave as well, and we walked to what we thought was the correct bus stop. After watching our bus pass us by, we realized that with all the changes Egged has instituted, changing the route and stops of our bus was one of them, and we walked to the next bus stop to wait yet again.

We hopped on the bus, and it started heading towards Geulah area. Now for those who know, Geulah on Erev Shabbos is one of those places that can literally be called a madhouse. People are dashing everywhere, cars are honking, buses are swerving...in essence, I was glad I was on a bus already rather than being outside.

So we headed towards Yechezekel, and passed by the edge of Nechama Bakery. We were stuck in literally bumper to bumper traffic. Our bus driver stops, opens his window, and yells out to a worker standing outside the bakery. Quicker than our eyes can see, the guy runs into the bakery, pulls out an already wrapped challah, and runs across the traffic to give the challah to our bus driver. The driver counts out the correct payment, hands it to the bakery worker, and resumes driving (that is, if you can call traffic driving). All this so our bus driver and his family can have challah for Shabbos.

Now how's that for Only In Israel!

OII #18- Israeli Soldiers

My eyes started to tear as I told my mother over the phone what happened to me today, and her eyes started to water too. No, it wasn't something sad, but something touching. And something so routine that probably many take it for granted.

I got on the bus today with my daughter, heading out to pick up something in a neighborhood far away. I grabbed her tight, got the driver to punch my ticket, folded my stroller, and sat down. There was an empty seat next to me, and a woman across the aisle was also sitting, an empty seat next to her.

After about two stops, a young Israeli soldier boarded the bus, carrying his gun, his ammunition pack, and a giant duffel bag, probably containing all that he was taking back to his base after a brief trip home to see his family and do laundry.

He unloaded all his gear while still wearing his gun, and placed it on the floor next to my folded stroller. Meanwhile, I recognized that he probably wouldn't want to sit next to me, so I moved over to sit next to the woman with the empty seat next to her.

He looked up, saw what I did, and smiled. He then proceeded to sit down.
I have no idea what prompted me, but I looked at him and wished him quietly, "Hatzlacha Rabba". He smiled again, and nodded his thanks.

He then proceeded to spend the rest of the bus ride, until I disembarked, playing peekaboo with my daughter from across the aisle, making sure my stroller and his gear didn't roll their way across the bus, and generally acting so chesedik and kind to every single person on the bus who passed by. Like the elderly women who he helped with the shopping cart. Oh, and the other woman who he helped off the bus with her stroller.

I'm telling you, he was such a stereotypical example of an Israeli soldier, down to the kindness and all. Our boys, our young Jewish boys, head out to the army at such a young age, but they have such hearts of gold.

When I told this story over to my mother on my next bus ride, she started to cry. She reminded me of an even older story that happened with me as a young one and a soldier as well.

When I was a little child, about 5 or so, my parents went on a trip to Israel. They got on a bus, and a young soldier proceeded to play games with me at that age, just like this soldier did for my daughter. My parents were so touched, and showered so many blessings on his head as a result. I have a picture, as a young child, of me with that soldier, both of us smiling huge grins.

The soldiers of Israel- our brothers, sons, and fathers. May they all continue to be safe, well, and protected.

OII #17- It's a Gemach, Not a Store

Well, I'm basically settled in, and I started to explore the neighborhood. But I had a secret confession to make: I used to live next door, literally, to a major cheap supermarket. So, I was determined to find a way to do my shopping in the same manner- convenient, close, and cheap.
Little did I know that those things are possibly oxymorons.

At first, I took the bus ride to the nearest large and cheap supermarket, thinking that with all the money I'll save, I can make up for the bus ride and delivery charges. This was true, but a major hassle.

Then, I found a smaller, not as cheap, but still large supermarket, a short bus ride away, that I would also have to pay for delivery. Not financially worthwhile, except on the days they have major sales.

I tried the store advertised in the local circular, but although they have sales, the other items are inflated to much higher prices.

The local market suited me fine, as it was a makolet with it all, but I heard rumors about the Arab men working there, and that just scared me off.
So where to shop?

Then I heard about the other local makolet. It was stocked with American products, albeit that the prices were sky high, but everyone, and I mean everyone, shopped there.
Why? What was the hype? I had to go and check it out.

The first odd thing that struck me was that the store owner was manning the checkout.
The second odd thing was that he said hello to me, and welcomed me to the neighborhood.
The third odd thing was that every one, all the workers, were Jewish, and not only that, but were extraordinarily helpful.
Even odder- they all spoke English.

So I shopped there. And continuing with the oddities, I was subjected to the help asking me if I needed any.

When I checked out, I asked for delivery, and how much it would cost. "Free," he remarks to me, asking where I live in the next breath.

There was a small notecard box next to him, and I immediately realized that this was a store where people shopped on credit. If they had money, or they didn't have money, everyone was able to buy food, and then pay it off when they needed to.

I remarked on my unusualy experience with the Rebbitzen of the neighborhood, and she informed me that the owner has a heart of gold. He can't stand to see anyone go hungry, and he allows all who need to pay over many months. "It's a 'gemach', not a store," she told me. He just keeps on giving, and those loyal customers who actually do pay are keeping his business afloat for those who can't.

Mi K'Amcha Yisroel- where a storekeeper uses his entire shop to perform mitzvos. May he continue to have success in his business.

OII #15- Busy Times

It's been so hectic lately, I barely have time to sit down with my computer. NBD to play with, guests from America to entertain, and the requisite packing that goes with any move.

I took some of the guests to a hotel, since they have an excellent package in which you can join their gym and fitness room (with seperate hours) for the day, and also enjoy the enviroment.

So, I'm wandering around, when I stumble upon H. Stern.

For those who don't know, H. Stern is a jewelery company- with some exquisite pieces that I, or any girl who likes sparkly things, would enjoy. I struck up a conversation with the manager, and as usual with most Jewish people, the saying applies: if you haven't found something in common talking with another Jew, you haven't talked for long enough!

She was born in Yerushalayim, and I introduced her to NBD, my first sabra. She mentioned her love of Israel, of her wish never to leave the Holy City, and of the fact that she has a cousin who is a 7th generation Yerushalmi.

We shmoozed, and she mentioned that there was a convention of livestock and cattle owners going on in the hotel, and as such, Tnuva was there, giving out free products.

The manager from Stern left, and came back bearing some Yoplait yogurt for me and my guests. "Only in Israel," she remarked, "can you get free yogurt with a Badatz hechsher on it from a Jewish farmer!"

Only In Israel is right!

OII #14- Thinking of Others

I was at the Kotel recently, and two wonderful things happened to me- making me realize yet again how special the people of Israel are.

First, I was with NBD. For all those who know the Kotel, the only way to get down from the Rova to the Kotel is by the giant stairs (or one could take the outside road, but I was with a guest who wanted the stair view). With a stroller, that feat is nearly impossible.

I started to bump down the stairs, NBD securely strapped in, when a young man stopped. "Can I help you?", he asked in Hebrew. I at first said no, not wanting to bother anyone, but he insisted in such eloquent terms. He just picked up my stroller, with NBD inside, and hurried down the steps as if he was carrying a feather.

I kept thanking him the whole way down, and his answer?
"B'Simcha Gedola (with great happiness)." He has a family of his own and he does this for his own children- so he's used to it! Wow. Such a good deed.

I then went down to the Kotel, and noticed a woman, dressed in heavy clothing, walking around with a water bottle and cups. She stopped by groups of people and offered them a drink. In return, they said a loud and clear Shehakol Ne'heyah B'dvaro. She was offering water to the entire Kotel.

She offered a cold cup to me, and I accepted, responding with the bracha. I then asked her, "What made you think to do something like this- it's such a big Mitzva!" She replied that she was once thirsty at the Kotel, and no one was there to offer her a cold drink. So she decided to take it upon herself to offer this to others.

Mi K'Amcha Yisroel! Who is like Your nation, O' Israel!

OII #13- Yet Another Traffic Jam

Somehow, whenever I'm sitting in traffic, something interesting seems to happen to me.
I was with Mr. NMF and NBD was in my arms, slowly falling asleep (since it was late at night), when our taxi driver turned on the radio.

I asked him if he would mind turning it off, since NBD was trying to sleep, and he obliged. But, he remarked that he was going to fall asleep himself since it was basically bumper to bumper traffic. He told us that he would tell us his story instead. Whenever anyone has a story- I'm up for listening, but this one totally blew my mind.

It seems that David, who was our taxi driver, was the first soldier in 1967 to reach the Kotel during the 6 Days War. That statement alone was shocking enough, and I wasn't sure whether or not to believe it. But he corroborated his statement by telling me the story, and telling me I could look it up on the Internet if I wanted to.

He was part of the paratrooper unit who, as entering into the Old City, was returning sniper fire. He and his friends fought valiantly, and finally reached Lions' Gate, where the entrance was. He then finally reached the Kotel, but of his unit, 24 men died fighting. The Arabs had erected a wall between the Kotel and their houses, in order to prevent the Jewish people from ever seeing the Kotel. After all, from 1948, when the State of Israel was established, till 1967, no one had seen the Kotel except for older men who had seen it in much earlier times.

He wasn't sure what he was seeing- after all, he wasn't sure if it even was the Kotel or not.
But he remembered something. When he was a young boy growing up, he went to an irreligious school. On the page of the textbook he used was a section about Torah. And there were three pictures- the Kotel, the Maarat HaMachpela (Cave of the Patriarchs), and Kever Rachel.
David saw the picture of the Kotel in his eye, and he knew it had to be it.

He inched forward, and noticed that the sniper had stopped shooting. He wedged himself between the wall and the Kotel, and (in his own words)- felt the Shechina (Divine Presence) there. He was so shocked, so overcome with emotion, that his friend, who came after him, thought he was dead; that the sniper had gotten him. His friend checked him for blood- and only then did David come out of his reverie.

Yitzchak Rabin came, as well as Moshe Dayan, and the first civilian there was Rabbi Shlomo Goren, who, since he was a civilian, the snipers didn't shoot him. David and his soldier friends all went to cover the Rabbi, who took out a walkie-talkie and said those famous words, "Har HaBayis b'Yadeinu, HaKotel b'Yadeinu!" (The Temple Mount is in our hands, the Kotel is in our hands.) Rabbi Goren then blew the shofar.

David finished his story, which he said all in broken English, by the way, with interspersed Hebrew for greater translation, and Mr. NMF and I were in shock. Such an amazing story, and from such a unique person.

Just then, the traffic started to move- and David laughed and said that there was far too much traffic here. I responded, "Well, that's why there was traffic. So you could tell us your story." He laughed, and answered, "Yes, that's true. But I was just a soldier- I was just doing my job."

Only in Israel, would a taxi driver be one of the phenomenal heroes of our time.

OII #12- Traffic Jam

Today, I headed out for a brief outing at Canyon Yerushalayim, otherwise known as Malcha Mall. However, the traffic was brutal outside, and I couldn't figure out why. I asked the driver, who responded that there must have been an accident on the road, because there usually isn't any traffic at that hour of the day.

As we inched forward, I noticed the site of an accident- a stalled car. However, that's when the OII occurred. Before my eyes, a man reached out of the side of the vehicle ahead of me, and handed the guy with the stalled car a 2 liter bottle of water- so he wouldn't get thirsty and tired while he was trying to fix the cause of the problem.

Wow. Who would ever think of doing that anywhere else? Such a small thing- but such a big impact.

OII #11- A Day of Fun

I haven't posted another OII for a while, but my recent activities lead to a burst of posts on this phenomenal country and the people in it.

*I went to pick out flowers with my neighbor for her apartment. When I went there- there were hardly any flowers outside, leading me to believe, in typical Israeli fashion, that this job was not one that would get done today, but rather, the ubiquitous 'tomorrow/Machar'. And, I was proven right, as since the flowers come from all over Israel, including the Golan, Tzfas, and Netanya, they didn't have them ready so close after Shavuos.

But, the flower owner apologized, and made a wonderful remark. He said that since they come from all over Israel, we should be proud and grateful we can get flowers from the Golan! And, so we agreed, that it is wonderful to be able to enjoy the fruits from all over Israel! What a great perspective!

*As we were heading out of the flower market, I heard another lady remark on the fact that the owner had pushed us all off till the morrow. I repeated his comment, on how we get flowers from the whole of Israel, and how lucky we are. She smiled and agreed. Then she introduced herself. Lo and behold- her name was Tzivia Ehrlich-Klein! Author of the Only in Israel book series!! What a wonderful event!

When I remarked on how much I love her books- she blushed and said- I'm glad that there are those out there who recognize the beauty of Israel. So, in the street lurks authors as well....hiding behind every possible face.

*I went to Har Nof recently, and I ended up in JII Pizza. I asked the owners of the store if they had a bathroom in which I could feed NBD. They said no...but they would give me another place. And before I could say boo, they cleared themselves out of their entire kitchen, handed me a chair, and offered me the key to lock the door so I could have some privacy.

How many restaurants in the US would give over their entire kitchen to help out one person?

What a wonderful people in what a wonderful land!

OII #10- Yet Another Driver

Somehow, Israeli taxi drivers are the best of the bunch. Seriously, I have more special stories involving taxi drivers than I think any other 'group' in Israel- and I usually take buses!

However, this week, although I took a bus to the Geulah neighborhood of Yerushalayim, I felt it practically impossible for me to take a bus home, as I was laden with packages, food, and NBD.
So, I started to snag a cab.

Now for those of you who know Geulah, and who know how to catch a Monit (taxi) there, you know it's a busy and dangerous business.
I usually head down Malchei Yisroel, until I reach a corner- because that way the taxi can pull over without blocking traffic, and without having everyone and his neighbor beep their horns insistently.

So, I did so, and a nice taxi pulled over. Now, again, usually, the driver doesn't have a chance to get out of the car, as the cars behind him would threaten to murder him if he blocked their right of way, so I prepared to fold up the stroller, put NBD in the back seat, and place the stroller in the trunk by myself.

Yet, the driver got out of the car and helped me do all of that, all with a smile on his face. When I told him I was ok- he said, "But I want to help!"

We got in the car, and were on our way. About 10 minutes into the drive, he started to munch on a bag of roasted peanuts. He turned to me and said, "Would you like some? They're so tasty!"
When I refused at first, he kept pressing them on me, so I took a few and made a bracha to please him. Yes, they were delicious, and I told him so. When he heard that, he offered me the whole rest of the bag! Now, I had just taken them to be polite, not to take his snack- so I refused. But he insisted on giving me the address of the store, so I could get some of these "Tayim"- tasty peanuts.

Last but not least, on the way back, he closed his window, remarking that he wanted to close it for the baby's sake. When I said that NBD had a hat on, and it was okay if he'd like to open it, he turned to me and said, "But you have to be extra careful for the baby's sake, even if she has a hat!"

Truly a wonderful experience. I love meeting people with such Simchas HaChayim- joie de vivre.
EDIT: A new poll is up to the right, feel free to vote!

OII #9- It's a War Zone- Really!

I decided to save some money this Pesach and join a co-op for vegetables. You had to order insane amounts of produce- like 9 kilo of potatoes, carrots, and onions, along with 5-6 kilo of other items- but it saved hundreds of shekels, at least in my calculations.

And I wasn't the only one- everyone I knew was ordering from them, telling me how easy it would be to head down to the local Bais Yaakov parking lot and just pick them up.
So, I blissfully sent in my money and waited to pick it up.

I offered to go myself, but Mr. NMF insisted on helping me out, and he went down. Little did I know what was in store.

He came back an hour and a half later- looking like he had just walked out of a war zone. Kippah askew, he told me, "That place is a madhouse. And, I didn't finish!"

So, I decided to go down to see for myself.
Hundreds of people, all crammed together, toting huge bags and sacks of vegetables. Trying to balance their chassa (romaine lettuce) and their green onions, on top of giant boxes of bananas, people were rushing back and forth, with baby carriages, shopping carts- you name it, they had it, to carry the produce.

I noticed two things.
Firstly- wow.
Mr. NMF has a rebbe who was here right after the 6 Day War. A friend of the rebbe's was sick, and the doctor prescribed eating apples. In order to get apples, they had to search, and finally found a rich Arab who was willing to sell them some apples from his one apple tree for a hefty price.
Now- we have abundance of produce- so much fruit and vegetables, that we can't even carry it home. Israel has come a long way since the days of no apples.

Secondly, a man was rushing back carrying his bag of apples, and it developed a hole.
Suddenly, everyone stopped, including me. We all dropped whatever we were carrying, and raced after the apples that were slowly bouncing down the hill, and retrieved them all. The man thanked us all profusely, and remarked- Mi K'Amcha Yisroel- who is like Your nation, Israel!

That's how everyone behaved. Despite the fact that it was a tumult, almost like a war zone, when it came down to it, everyone behaved like decent human beings, like a mentch.

So- if they say that Israel is a war zone- well, it could happen, but only during vegetable pick-up before Pesach.

OII #7- Brothers and Babies

I'm always amazed here in Israel by how phenomenal the soldiers in the army are. They go through three years there, starting when they are still in their teenage years, and even after that, they still participate in the reserves until they no longer can by law.

They are tough individuals, strong, brave- people you would want to have defending you and your country and people. Walking around all day with a gun on your shoulder might scare the passerby, or make them realize how special you are- to give up some of the time in your life to do something so constructive and valuable.

They put on this gruff exterior when they are on duty- no nonsense, no funny business or even cracking a smile to those watching. But peer out of the corner of your eye, and you see them laughing with their comrades in arms, playing jokes on the men they are supposed to command, and generally acting like normal people. Each one of these soldiers is a brother to some, a son to some, and they act it, despite the fact that they have learnt Krav Maga- a deadly form of martial arts.

I was in a mall with a friend and her baby daughter. As we passed through security, she needed to remove her daughter from the stroller, because the little one was scared by the metal detector. All of a sudden, the stern-faced security guard and his soldier friend turned into different people. "Aize Metuka!" (such a cutie!) they cried, and started to make funny faces to cheer up the slightly shocked baby. "Chamuda," they said, as they grilled my friend as to how old the baby was. The little one made their day by giving a grin, and these soldiers thoroughly enjoyed themselves. I would have thought they would have grabbed the little one and bounced her on their laps soundly, if they hadn't been on duty. That's Israeli security. Give them a little one- and they turn into the brothers of the sisters they left at home.

Recently, I was in the Old City with NBD, and I wanted to get from the Kotel to the Rova. Being as I had a stroller, I had to take the long way around. When I got half way up, I saw a security guard standing by an entrance- and I asked him if that way led up, and were there stairs. He looked at me, and at NBD- and said, "What's the problem?! I'll carry her up." And so he proceeded to do, chattering all the while about how cute she was, and how he has a 1 1/2 year old at home waiting for him.

So, beneath that exterior lies something waiting. No Israeli can resist a baby.

Only In Israel #6- Neighbors and Taxis

Families share a lot of good times in their lives- but with that also comes sharing other things.

Last week, Mr. NMF got sick, then with heaping helpings of chicken soup and tea, he got better. Now, it seems, it's my turn. I'm just starting to feel almost better- complete with extra tea made by Mr. NMF (see- taking turns being sick works out for everyone!).

Then, my neighbor's daughter comes down with some nasty bug, and she nursed her back to health. Then my neighbor (Neighbor #1) fell sick. (Wow- it has truly been a LONG week.) She was really sick- stuck in bed, can't do much of anything, antibiotics sick.

I stopped over there, when I was feeling better, and saw Neighbor #2 cooking toast for Neighbor #1's kids, because Neighbor #1 was in bed and couldn't move. So I figured, hey, I can do something.
So the next night, I sent over a large supper- hot and tasty. (Spaghetti and meatballs, if you wanted to know.) And, thank G-d, today, Neighbor #1 is feeling much better.

It was funny though- because I've lived in places before where I didn't even know my neighbors! I didn't know their names, or how many kids they had, or when their next simcha was. I know that's not a unique concept- that one can know their neighbors outside of Israel, but it was a wonderful thing that we all know each other and are willing to help out when needed.

I was in a taxi, heading home to warm up the spaghetti and meatballs for Neighbor #1, when my taxi driver remarked on how there was absolutely no traffic, despite the fact that it was rush hour.
So, I remarked that it must be that Hashem knew I had to get home to make supper for Neighbor #1 who was sick, and therefore, Hashem cleared the way for me.

He thought about it (note: this taxi driver was not wearing a kippa), and said- that is probably very true. And it is so nice that you're helping Neighbor #1. I hope there are more people like you out there.

I asked him if his neighbors do things like that- and he says, sometimes, but he doesn't know most of his neighbors. But he's impressed that there exists neighbors who do exhibit these good behaviors.

So, he was happy that he got to his destination quickly, and he wished Neighbor #1 a Refuah Shleimah. I love hearing that from a taxi driver; it never gets old. No matter if they are religious or not, if they are Jewish, they care about other Jews. It's wonderful.
And so ends another OII moment. Or not- as this could happen anywhere. So, find out who your neighbors are, and get involved!

Chanukah in the Mall- OII #5

I went yesterday to the main mall in order to buy a small item for my friend- and I dragged some of my guests from Chutz L'Aaretz too.

Their reactions- astounded.
"You mean to tell me they have dozens of projects for the kids in this place?"
"They are selling sufganiyot and menorahs, just out in the open like that?"
"They have a menorah in the middle of the mall?"
"They allow the kids to run around crazily- it's such a family friendly place!"
"No carols playing anywhere? Maoz Tzur?"
"The sales people wish you a Chag Sameach??"

It's so wonderful to see these kind of reactions! Only in Israel!
Chag Sameach to all!

OII #4- People in Israel

You may not think this is an "only in Israel" experience- but I find it happens more here than anywhere else- and it really shows something special about this country.

I went to the Kotel recently- with my guests from Chutz La'aretz- and I stopped by one of my favorite stores.

This store sells antiques- chatchkas for the tourists, new stuff for those too gullible to know the difference, but sometimes real and true antiques, just sitting there for those with a discerning eye. I've been going to this store for years- when it looked like a hovel in the Old City, and I've seen it change. I've searched through their items, and actually found some beautiful and rare stuff- Iranian hand-dyed carpets from his relatives in Iran, a megilla (unkosher due to its age- but with kabbalistic symbols checked by a reliable sofer), some Yemenite silverwork- and other such things.

Over the years I've become familiar with his entire family- his grandfather sold me the hand-dyed carpet in the end of the Cardo shuk, his son and brother, formerly in the Israeli army, and his grandson- about to head into the army for his first year. He comes from Iran, and has some family there still- who send him stuff when necessary.

So what's so special about all of this? First of all- he asks how I am, how my family is. I know shopkeepers in America or other places may do this- but it's a different sort of relationship. He shmoozes with me, commenting on the political situation in various countries, various items of humor or interest- all Jewishly based, giving me a flavor of the life he leads. (Yes, I know there are those of you out there who say he'll do this to make a sale- but most of the time, I can't afford anything.)

Hearing about his life in Iran is fascinating- and knowing all his relatives- even more interesting. He's planning on opening up another shop- and I wish him luck in his new business.

He talks with the people who come into his shop- dropping some Torah here and there for a talmid chacham, admiring the new baby of a mother....generally showing care for all Jews. And yes, he caters to the tourists and students as well.

From what I see in Israel- the shopkeepers, the people in the shuk, the taxi and bus drivers- they're all like that. Caring about everyone, willing to help out someone in need, and doing it all in true Israeli style. If that happens somewhere else- I'm so happy to hear about it.

But it seems to happen here more than usual. Welcome to Israel life.

OII #3- Collection with Style

Update on December 3: Today I got another knock- three sweet girls, the oldest not more than 10, collecting for Yad Eliezer- more non-perishables! I love Israel!!

I'm researching on my computer when I hear a knock on the door- no more than a tap.
I open it to find two cute Sephardi girls, with their little brother, neither one older than 8.
They are carrying two shopping bags- half empty, and present me a piece of paper.

It seems that my community is collecting food products (non-perishables) for a family in need of basic items. So, these two kind youngsters have volunteered to collect.

I don't know if they are part of the family in need, or just a friend- but to see two cute kids trying to collect tzedaka- real tzedaka- like basic food products- it just melted my heart.
So I handed them what I could, and wished them Kol Tuv.

Wow- so special. And, it's all done anonymously, with you actually seeing where the "money" is going- it's going into this family's hands- as actual food products- cans of tomato sauce, pititim (couscous), tuna fish- things that a family could actually use.
Kol HaKavod!

Kotel Adventures- OII #2

So, I went to the Kotel yesterday- as written about in an earlier post.
I went there, because I haven't gone in a while- and I have wanted to go.
But also because I needed to get something done in the Old City.

I've had a bracelet, made of silver, and etched with the 7 gates of Yerushalayim on it, for about the last 5 years. I never take it off- wear it to shower, sleep, swim...

It kept me thinking about the Holy City while I was in America, and here it keeps me thinking about how lucky I am to be here! So many Tzaddikim (righteous people) (the Gra- the Vilna Gaon for example) never made it here- and here I am- how am I worthy?

But, to make a long story a bit shorter, after five years, I bent it a bit too far, and it started to crack, along the engraving. Needless to say, I was quite saddened.

So, I decided to go where I got it from and see if it could be fixed.
I headed off to the Old City after my visit to the Kotel, and headed to a small shop next to the Cardo. The more famous shop is Hadera? (sp.), which is where all the seminary girls go to get

their trinkets.
I headed to a small shop owned by two silversmiths, a father and daughter- with the last name Ben-Yekusiel. They use their small shop as a workshop as well, and create intricate designs, in the Yemenite fashion. I met the father a long time ago- and he told me that their family has been making these items for generations. He has a daughter, so he trained her in the art as well. Their work is truly exquisite- (of course with prices to match- but well worth it)- fitting for any Shabbos table, or just as a magnificent work of art and craftsmanship.

I bought my small bracelet from them, and the daughter engraved it for me with the 7 gates, and with the pasuk "Yerushalayim Harim Saviv Lah"- "Jerusalem, hills surround her...".
So, I headed back- and it's been a long time since I've been there.

I opened the door, and the daughter was there. I told her she probably wouldn't recognize me, but she said my face was familiar. I told her how I bought my bracelet 5 years ago, and now I'm married and living here in the Aretz. I asked her if she could fix it for me- and she said it would be her pleasure.

Watching a silversmith work is a fascinating thing. If you want just to see it- head to their shop- it's amazing. She fixed the crack, re-etched the line, and buffed it to maintain the silver. Unfortunately, the patina of older silver that had happened to the bracelet, after 5 years of wearing- disappeared- but now I have it for another 5 years.

She took the time to do this in the middle of her work day, and took care in her work.
When she finished- with a bracelet as good as new- I asked her if I could pay for her work.
She refused payment. She said it was her pleasure, and she loves seeing her own work again- cherished and used. I was shocked- as she did spend time on it, and effort. She refused again, and said, if I'd like, I could donate the money I would have paid her to tzedaka.

Wow- so special. She fixes something for me that many others would say- too bad, you bought it, you used it for 5 years, now it's your problem. Then, she refuses payment. And, to top it all off- she then asks me to give the money I would have given her to tzedaka.

Only In Israel.

Stop by her shop if you're ever in the Old City. I can't say you'll be able to afford anything there- but watching her and her father at work is a wonderful experience. And you could tell her I sent you :)

Only In Israel #1

I love Israel!! There are so many good things about it- it would take forever to describe.
So, I decided to start a new label- OII- Only In Israel happenings, that occur to me (usually) around a daily basis.

Yesterday, I was asked to visit a certain rav, who lives at the bottom of my neighborhood, while my apartment is at the top of the hill, affording me a beautiful view of Harei Yerushalayim (mountains of Jerusalem). So, off I went- and foolishly did not take anything with me except my cell phone and keys.

My walk down was uneventful, until I got to a major hill right before the rav's house. There, while talking on my cell phone, my cell phone dies suddenly. I'm so confused by this occurance, that I neglected to watch where I was going, and tripped, rolling down the hill a bit. Ouch.

B"H- nothing major happened- a bit bruised up, but quite alright. And, I continued to the rav's house.

On my way back, I climbed up that hill, and then the next hill, and the next. By the third, I started to get tired, and wished I had brought my bus pass. The ankle that I had tripped on started to hurt- and I paused to rest in the middle of the hill.

I see a taxi- from Monit HaTzomet- driving rather slowly behind me, as if he thinks I have money and I'll take him. But I don't- so I kept walking. At this point, he's basically trailing behind me, while I stop at the next bench to check how my foot is doing.

He opens his window and says, "Geveret (ma'am) would you like a ride?"

So, I, the honest person say- "Todah (thank you), but I don't have any money on me."

So he- the nice Kippah Srugah wearing taxi driver- says, "Who cares?! Come on in, I'll give you a lift!"

I'm shocked- as most taxis are searching for people who can actually pay. So I respond again, "But I don't have any cash on me."

"Mah Baayah (what's the problem)?" he responds, and lets me hop on in.

I asked him to take me just up the hill (so at least I would be on level ground for the last part till my apartment, and he joked with me that he thought I wanted to head to Bnai Brak! He would have taken me all the way home, but I felt it was too much of an imposition- as he was doing this for FREE.

I asked him his name on the way out- Itzik- and thanked him profusely. He wished me a good night, and that I should feel good (Tehei Briah- you should be healthy?= not the best translation, but that's what it means.)

How many NY cab drivers would stop for a tired pedestrian?

How many cab drivers at all would gladly do it- even if the pedestrian stated that they had no money?

Only In ISRAEL!! (Oh, and if you see a Monit HaTzomet taxi driver who's name is Itzik- tell him thank you again!)