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???