fbpx

Of Course

I had been to Israel before and was on my way there again. I had gotten this \"of course\" business before, from store clerks, bellboys, even strangers on the street, and it didn\'t seem to matter whether or not my question was a stupid one.
[additional-authors]
June 1, 2000

I was in London standing in line outside the box office hoping to get tickets for that night’s performance of “The Lion King.” Behind me I heard a mother talking to her daughter in Hebrew.”Are you from Israel?” I butted in. They were, from Tel Aviv. The mother’s name was Miri. Her daughter was Roni, the youngest of her three children, she told me. Miri was a travel agent and they were in London for the week. “Is this a school vacation?” I asked, trying to figure out what break would fall at this time of the year.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s Purim.”Israelis have a way of saying “of course” that makes you feel stupid for asking. It’s nothing like the Englishman’s polite “Of course” that means “I’m at your service.” Or the Frenchman’s supercilious “Of course,” meaning, “Yes, even though you’re beneath me.”

An Israeli’s “of course” is like something your mother or sister or Aunt Mae would say if you asked if you could have a second helping. “Of course, since when do you have to ask?”I had been to Israel before and was on my way there again. I had gotten this “of course” business before, from store clerks, bellboys, even strangers on the street, and it didn’t seem to matter whether or not my question was a stupid one.

Israelis are a tough lot. They don’t stand in lines or take turns. If you’re waiting to order a sandwich and don’t act fast enough, someone behind you will scream out an order, elbow her way up to the counter, pay and be through with lunch before you know what happened. Noise is another thing. They blow their car horns and holler at other drivers. They don’t talk, they yell. Every Hebrew conversation sounds like an argument with voices raised and arms flailing in the air. Only when they hug at the end do you have a clue that they were discussing whether to have fish or chicken for dinner.

A cell phone to an Israeli is what a water bottle is to a Californian. There is always one in his hand or in her purse or in an over-the-shoulder carrier. As for cell phone etiquette, well, there is none. Wherever you are – stores, hotel lobbies, restaurants, even at the top of Masada – cell phones are going off. And they don’t just ring, they play some Beatles song or “Hava Nagila” or Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Once I watched a couple in a restaurant talk on their cell phones throughout the entire meal, never exchanging a word until the bill came.

If you ask an Israeli for directions to a restaurant, he’ll tell about a better place to eat, or what to order, or to make sure to say hello to his cousin Yael who works there.

And that’s one of the things I love about Israel, because when you deliver the message to Yael, she’ll bring you a complimentary dessert and treat you like family. Even though I’ve only been there twice before, Israel feels very familiar to me. It’s about walking down the street and seeing a sea of faces that could be relatives. It’s about being with other people who can’t talk if their arms are full. It’s about being with people who can’t imagine sitting around a table, whether for a meeting, or a class, or a discussion, without laying out more food than could possibly be eaten. It’s about seeing bus drivers and teachers and men in army uniforms wearing yarmulkes. It’s about seeing Judaica in the window of more than just one specialty store.

It’s about a country full of Israelis. Sabras, they’re called, the fruit of a cactus, prickly and hard on the outside but soft and sweet inside. And that soft, sweet center will get you every time.I told Miri I was going to be in Israel the following week.

“Are you going to be in Tel Aviv?” she asked, opening her purse. “Call me. You’ll come over for dinner,” she said, taking out a business card and writing a couple of phone numbers on it. “This is my home phone and this is my cell phone. It’s always on.”Of course.

Ronnie Caplane is a freelance writer based in Northern California.

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

Difficult Choices

Jews have always believed in the importance of higher education. Today, with the rise in antisemitism across many college campuses, Jewish high school seniors are facing difficult choices.

All Aboard the Lifeboat

These are excruciating times for Israel, and for the Jewish people.  It is so tempting to succumb to despair. That is why we must keep our eyes open and revel in any blessing we can find.  

More news and opinions than at a
Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.