Tales from the Holy Land
I have always been a big fan of people-watching, and while I watch them, I create narratives in my head about their life stories. Though, with the situation as somber as it is in this beautiful country, I try to keep the narratives positive. Otherwise it is just too heartbreaking. So, with this humor column, will come some humorous tales. Well, at least I think they are humorous…you be the judge.
Since I am here to spend time with Danish and her sister, I am spending the majority of my time in the Shtetl. The Shtetl has supermarkets and bakeries and stores and restaurants and, most importantly, my kids and their cuties. I really only feel a need to get to the Kotel, which, thank God, I have done a few times.
So I am at the holiest place on earth with my DIL’s sister (who is my new BFF) and we arrange a time to meet after we finish praying. I, of course, finish first, so I start wandering around. I happen upon a family, older parents, married siblings, younger kids, all trying to arrange themselves in a family photo. As I hear that they are speaking English, I offer to take the photo.
“Thank you so much,” the organizer of the photo exclaims.
She finishes arranging everyone and then hands me her phone.
“Use portrait mode for some of the shots and then just go to photos for the others,” she explains to me.
So I take a bunch of pictures, making sure everyone is in all of them. And after I say, “Okay, I think we are good!” I hear the organizer’s sister say, “We probably should have gotten someone younger to take the picture.” OUCH.
“Hey, wait a second,” I come to my own defense. “You don’t even know how these pictures came out!” Turns out, they came out just fine, because they didn’t ask anyone younger or otherwise to retake the family photo.
Yup, just when you think that coloring your hair makes you feel that you look a little more youthful, a dose of reality smacks you in the face. All good.
Another tale. My friend and I went out to eat one evening. I, of course, ordered some highly caloric pasta dish. My rationale was all the stairs I have been walking up and down. Anyway, a few moments after ordering, some very, very skinny waitress plops my order down without even looking at me or acknowledging the order. “Oh my gosh, she is fat-shaming me,” I declared to my friend. “She cannot even look me in the eye because she is so unnerved by the fact that such a large person would be ordering such a fattening (though exquisitely delicious) dish.”
I was so upset, though not upset enough to not eat the whole serving, that I was ready to say something to the manager. Of course, my Hebrew is terrible and there would be no point, but still. And then, I noticed the folks at the table next to me. Two skinny people out on a date. And the waitress did the same thing to them; without making eye contact, she just plopped down the plates. She wasn’t fat-shaming me, she is just extremely unfriendly. Ahh, I felt much better about what I had consumed.
And then there are the kosher crunchy Cheetos. Delicious, cheesy goodness. The man at the only store where I can find them knows when I walk in, I am there to hoard some more for my trip home. The other day, there was a large box blocking my route to the heavenly snack. Do I take this as a sign that God no longer wants me to buy any more Cheetos? The store owner looks at me, says “One minute” in Hebrew (that I understand) and he rushes to my aid by climbing over the box and gathering up my delicious snack. Only in Israel.
Soldiers dancing around a newly engaged couple at the Kotel. Chabad gentlemen putting tefillin on soldiers. And the posters of the beautiful soldiers who have been murdered. It is hard to put into words. We take the good with the bad and pray for only funny stories, good health, and peace.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is hoping to be back in her native land by the time you are reading this, even though she will miss her beautiful Israelis terribly…but it’s not looking hopeful! Hashem yishmor.
comments