Opening Pandora's Box

Greek mythology speaks famously of the story of Pandora, who was sent by the god Zeus to punish mankind for Prometheus' stealing of fire (my geeky childhood is suddenly coming in useful, as is Wikipedia!), and who is sent to Earth, by Zeus, with a mysterious, secret box. Pandora, as legend has it, got curious and opened the box, thus unleashing evil and destruction onto the world. Anyone else finding a rather nice parallel to the story of Chava (Eve) in the Garden of Eden? Anyhow, we're digressing. The box, once opened, could never be closed and the evil could never be put back. Hence we have the saying that someone is 'opening Pandora's box', when someone decides to do something that might end up with negative consequences, and ultimately cannot be reversed.

I think you might know where I might be going with this one.

Last time out I wrote about how I was tapping into my Israeli side, and becoming a lot more assertive in the way I go about my business here in the Holy Land. I thought perhaps an update was in order.

This week started with me having a meeting with my boss and her boss about me and where they see me heading. Instead of my usual 'Do you mind awfully if I just point out a few things? You do? Oh OK, well thank you for your time' jobbies, I actually stood up and made some forceful points. I even stood up to my Manager, who is a firm and tough boss (but ultimately quite a good one), which is something her boss himself struggles with...

But that was a mere entrée to the main course.

I have, as my friends here know, a real 'bee in my bonnet' about drivers not stopping at pedestrian crossings when there are people already crossing. I play a dangerous game of chicken with some of the most lethal drivers in the world (unfortunately, this is an area where we should not be so proud to be world leaders). This week I had two run ins (or should that be run overs?) with Israeli drivers.
Firstly, I was crossing King David Street and was about halfway across when a car whizzed straight through. Had I not foreseen this and checked my step, I would be, G-d Forbid, writing this from a hospital bed. My reaction was natural, in that fury boiled over, and to give you an idea of how close it was, I was able to slam my hand into the boot of the car in a fit of anger. What was also natural, and ultimately interesting, was that my words of fury were not in English, but in Hebrew. Then on Tuesday night I was off to meet friends for a drink and I was crossing Emek Refaim. Once again I was halfway across a crossing, when I saw this car, driven by the world's most lethal category of driver, the 80+ driver, rolling (and I mean rolling, i.e. no great speed, no real desire to change speed, no real desire to stop), towards me. You know the type of driver I'm talking about. The ones who believe years of driving experience will counterbalance their loss of sight, hearing, common sense, memory, and most importantly, the loss of any basic anticipation and reaction skills they may have had. This time though I didn't check my step and carried on walking, until the old dear had to apply her brakes. She then proceeded to beep at me (hoot, toot, blast her horn, however you say it).
Now 3 years ago I would have just stood stock still and stared her down, and that would be that. Not any more. I proceed to stand in the middle of the road and start waving my hands around like a wailing banshee, indicating to her in no uncertain terms (both verbally and non verbally) that I am on a crossing and she has no right to beep at me. A car behind her beeped me as well, which elicited a shout of !תשתוק - be quiet/shut up!, from me. I then completed the proceedings with something akin to the Israeli hand twirl that symbolises disgust, and went on my way.

Now apart from being very funny in hindsight, it again symbolises a further evolution in my character. It might be maturity, it might be Israeliness, it might just be, as one friend put in, that I'm growing into my future life as an old git. Whatever it is, I find it all very interesting.

This got me thinking further. I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago, and they asked me if I liked what they were wearing. My response was something along the lines of 'not really' and 'you've looked better'. I was berated, understandably, for my opinion, and started trying to blame my increasing Israeliness for my tactlessness and rudeness. However I stopped. Because in all honesty, it's not true. I've always been rude, tactless and unsubtle, I've just broadened my audience. I am a Taurean, or a Ford Taurus as another friend enjoys calling me, and while I don't believe in the watered down, scatter-gun, lucky dip style of astrology that exists in most papers and magazines today, I do go at a lot of things like a 'bull in a china shop'. Ask my friends.

So am I now pretty much Israeli? Nope. Anyone who decides to make everyone in his department a cup of tea one afternoon can't be. Anyone who stills uses phrases such as 'just peachy', 'not too shabby', and 'good grief', is not even in the ballpark of being Israeli. However am I as English as I was? Well, I think that's the point. I'm evolving. I'm pouring character traits from English society and Israeli society into my own unique cocktail shaker, and mixing them up with the person I have always been.

The result?

Chaim. An Anglo Israeli Jewish Bull, who just happens to be finding himself in more china shops then ever before.

Anybody Wanna Fight???

As I celebrate two years back home, I have been reflecting on how well I have integrated into my new life out here. The truth is, fairly well, I feel. True, 99% of my friends are Anglos, and outside of work, my Hebrew speaking is limited. I also live in an area with a large Anglo population, and I am yet to be found sitting in Baba on a nightly basis consuming a heart attack inducing amount of hummous. However, I have made really good and close friends who are now my family, I have a great set up at home, a job at a prestigious hotel, and feel that I am less English than I was a year ago, or even 6 months ago. More importantly, there is definitely a storm brewing that is blowing in some greater winds of change.

Allow me to elaborate.

Israel is a world renowned hotspot for anyone who fancies a good old fashioned barney. For the non-English amongst you that's what back in the Motherland we colloquially call, a hard core verbal argument.
What the Israelis do best is argue. They argue about their change, they argue about their food, their neighbourhood, who has right of way in traffic, who can negotiate peace, who cannot negotiate peace. The best way to open a שוקו בשקית, the quickest way to Tel Aviv from Jerusalem (is it the 1 of the 443?), and even what is setting off a metal detector outside the קניון('it's my belt, now let me in').

Over the last few weeks, things have started to rile me. Work, social life, sport, politics, I can feel my blood beginning to warm up on a daily basis. The, literal boiling point, came at the end of last week when my סבלנות - patience, ran out. The seed sowing, as I say, has been weeks in the making, but the sprouting started on Wednesday, and by Thursday, aided and abetted by a lack of food and drink, we had a complete fruition. I become blunt, rude, direct, and other assorted Israeli traits. I told agents to clear up their own mess, I started making people work for a discount and then I told them we didn't have any rooms. I invited myself to people for Shabbat meals, told people what I thought of their dress sense (and told others what I thought of other people's dress sense), and just generally became, well, Israeli.

Obviously, as I am now blogging about it as if it was an uncharacteristic blip for an otherwise 'awfully decent, awfully English, type of chap', the mood has passed somewhat. And yet, it still beats inside me. It's a door that although not fully open, remains ajar. And you know why I think it's still ajar? Because I enjoyed the darker side to me that came out. I enjoyed the assertive, no nonsense, Israeli like soul that appeared. There's a big part of me that feels he will be back soon, and you know something, I will roll out the red carpet and welcome him back with open arms.

My boss said something to me today that rang home. We were discussing me and the way I work and how she sees me in the work environment. One of the things she said to me is that I was still too English, still not tough enough, not Israeli enough, to really succeed in an Israeli workplace. Harsh, but on reflection, fair. Whilst I have no intention of killing my English manners and politeness, which I count as one of my great strengths, I recognise that without a little dose of Israeli stubbornness and patience-less assertiveness, my קליטה, my absorption, remains incomplete.

So that's my new project. Get a little more stubborn, be a little more blunt, and get a little more assertively Israeli.

Anybody Wanna Fight???