Before I begin this article, I want to be extremely clear about one thing. I am delighted I made aliyah - truly and honestly. Not only am I genuine Zionist at heart, but I really do wholeheartedly believe that Israel was the right decision for me. I genuinely hope I spend out the rest of my days in this mad and turbulent country, until I’m doddering around in Netanya still complaining about the heat (more on that later.)
That being said, before I made aliyah I truly did believe that when I arrived at Ben-Gurion, I would be greeted by a red carpet, and that the word ‘olah’ itself would solicit sympathy, concern and empathy. It did not. Not even close. Living in this country is a privilege, an honour and just truly fucking hard.
So if you’re planning on joining us in this tiny strip in the Middle East, let me help prepare you for some of the daily realities you may well face.
Supermarket shopping
Now, I know you all think this is going to be a soliloquy on price - that everything in this country is crazy expensive. But, honestly you do get used to this. And, frankly, most of my friends work in high-tech in Tel Aviv, even those on chalat are doing just fine thank you.
But, here’s what I simply cannot abide in supermarkets in Israel. The service. Or lack thereof.
Listen, I’m not here to pass judgement on the socioeconomic status of those who work in supermarkets, but I’m guessing it’s fairly similar in most countries. And let me tell you in England - those who work at the checkout are efficient and helpful. Heck, I’d go so far as to say they are friendly.
In Israel, you are lucky to get a grunt and eye contact. They are achingly, painfully slow. Passing each item through as if it were made of lead. That’s if they are not on their phone, schmoozing with another checkout person or gone to help some poor sucker at the self-checkout, which has to be the most useless piece of technology in this country.
P:S - in England we have dedicated supervisors to monitor these for maximum efficiency, but whatever.
And, lord, don’t even get me started on the butchers at supermarkets. They always truly don’t give a fuck. These men (and it's always men) can make mincing meat (you obviously can’t buy pre-minced here….another rant, another day) drag out for a full five minutes. I can’t even begin to describe their lethargic actions and how painful they are, but I have argued with them. Twice.
2. The Language
As anyone who knows me knows, I have invested heavily in my Hebrew. I am just about to start my fifth ulpan and I take learning this language extremely seriously. And no, before you say it, having an Israeli boyfriend does not help - he’s an incredibly pedantic and impatient teacher and rarely is a strong relationship founded on a mutual desire for language improvement.
So after two years in this country, I would describe my Hebrew as not bad, respectable even verging on OK.
And yet, whenever I speak to an Israeli, even an Israeli whose English could be kindly described as shit. They will respond in a broken, heavily accented echo of my rich language. Because no Israeli has ever had the humility to say, ‘no I can’t speak English.’
And so I am not only forced to endure this horrific butchering of my language, but am denied the chance to practice my language skills.
And yet all this being said, dear Olim - you will need Hebrew to navigate life here. It is the classic conundrum that whilst no shopkeeper, random family member or co-worker will allow you to speak Hebrew; when push comes to shove you will need it.
3. Mean olim on Facebook
I don’t know what it is about olim on Facebook. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the high taxes. Maybe it’s coming to close to Hakodesh Barach Hu, but they are super duper mean. Especially on Facebook groups, which in truth are incredibly helpful and I would recommend getting yourself onto some pronto. That being said, the comments on these groups can be vicious. Honestly, a question as innocuous as buying vs leasing a car can result in increasingly hateful comments that, eventually, will attack the entire value system of the original poster. I beseech you to proceed with caution and perhaps check on the search function if someone braver has asked before you.
4. The Heat
I know this will be a more controversial point, but whatever, I’m going to be honest, I was never a natural sun worshiper - I don’t like the beach *gasp*, sand gets everywhere and I end up finding it for days afterwards. It’s also immensely difficult to read with the blazing sun in my eyes. Also thanks to my incredibly Ashkenazi heritage I feel it wise to protect my skin at all costs. If savta raba wasn’t rollicking around in the sun in Latvia, I see no reason to start now.
But, that being said as a tourist I could cope with the sun. I don’t remember ever coming to Israel and finding the journey to buy frozen yoghurt at Tamara or daven at the kotel (back in the day I was every stereotype of a Sem girl) that challenging. But, oh my G-d, summer in Israel is intense.
Picture it. You’re moving flats in a billion degree heat. You’re walking to the beauticians and arriving dripping. Now she has to work out how to do her job whilst an egg could cook on your face. You fancy a walk, and so off you go at 9PM at night, and still the humidity suffocates you.
My prayer this year? Next summer a trip to fucking Iceland - give me a break from this unrelenting heat.
5. The attitude
Here’s what I’ve learnt since making aliyah - Israelis aren’t mean, they just don’t give a fuck. Fearful of being seen as a frair, they will shout and scream to make themselves heard. Whilst in England, following the rules, being polite and generally just a respectful citizen seems to do the job. Here, forget it. You want to get something done - you should shout lader, faster and quicker than anyone else.
Let me give you a recent example.
Last week I wanted sushi - I called five times - asked politely for sushi and was respectively hung up on, told to call back and put on hold indefinitely.
My hebrew boyfriend called - spoke in a tone that suggested ‘don’t fuck with me, I want raw fish wrapped in sticky rice and I want it now.’ It was ready 10 minutes later.
In Israel - you have to be just a little bit of an asshole to get anything done.
Now, whilst these are my top five there are so many more oddities to Israel - the fact that the bureaucracy makes no sense, the fact that we had three elections in one year, the sadness over the gulf between the Charedim and the Hilonim, I could go on and on.
And if you’d like some more hard truths about living in this country, please do feel free to follow me on @networkwithhelena where I talk about what it’s really like to be an oleh in this country.