1.   I went to the post office today.  They have the whole “take a number” system.  Unfortunately, people here are retarded.  Actually, it was mostly the foreigners who were the problem (and, shockingly, the tellers).  These foreigners wouldn’t take a number, and would waltz right up to the counter (with a thousand Israelis shouting obscenities in the background), and they were dealt with.  The tellers were all very busy.  On their cellphones.  For whatever reason, they refused to click the numbers, and we were all like, “Hello?  Numbers, move them. It’s your job.”  And they were like, fuckyoubye.  I was there for almost an hour.  Seriously.  I went to investigate about packages that Matt’s mom sent and that have been sitting at the post office for a few weeks.  We’ve never received word that they arrived. When I explained the situation, the woman behind the counter started looking at packages, and immediately found ours.  PS - you couldn’t miss them, one of them can fit an NBA player.  And she comments that “oh, I found them by chance”.  Seriously.

2.   I want to know why important university offices are only open for two and a half hours three days a week.  I have to go show them my high school and university grades, to prove that they’re equivalent to grades here, or something.  I’ve met students who’ve gone to high school here.  I learned more my freshman year than they did throughout their whole high school “career”.  Clearly, my grades are equivalent.  But this office, who will be determining whether I need to take a preparatory year (I better not!), is only open on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays from nine-thirty to noon.  What is this nonsense?  Don’t people apply to school?  These aren’t even summer hours; these are all the time hours.  I mean, Jesus Christ!  How does anyone get anything done around here?!

3.  Websites here are horrendous.  They are impossible to navigate, both in English and in Hebrew.  Information is completely unavailable.  It took me 45 minutes (swear to G slash d) to find what the hours are for the office I need.  And the only way I managed to find that was by putting the office’s phone number into the search field.  They don’t even tell you how to get there.  So now I have to navigate yet another impossible website (the Dan buses) to figure out how to get there.  Although first I’m asking a few friends about the best way to get there.  Short of shooting myself and avoiding the whole thing altogether.

Living in this country has convinced me that there’s a Big (Wo)Man in the Sky.  Because there is no other way we’d still be here otherwise.

Seriously.

It’s still weird to adjust to the Israeli schedule, although it’s busier here on a night before work than it would be in the States.  And later, too.  We left just before midnight, but people were poring out of every city orifice and into bars, pubs, and restaurants.

It makes me happy I’m here.

Perhaps more notably, I’m single for the first time in four years.  Over the course of those four years, I’ve been in three significantly life-changing relationships.  As good as it is for me that I’m finally flying solo, I remember how exhausting being single gets.  Finding dates.  Nights wasted on the boring, the insecure, the unstable.  The last thing I want is a boyfriend, but I would like to be able to spend some evenings in the company of a nice, intelligent man (extra points for good looking).  My next door neighbor also recently broke up with his girlfriend, so at least I can go through this with someone.  I’m also slowly piecing together a group of friends, which will help.  The next step is to find a Pilate’s class and also register for a course at the University.

What I miss the most, though, is being in love.  Joel and I fell out of love shortly after we moved in together.  It’s been almost a year since I’ve been truly passionate about a man, and I’m starting to feel the void.  It’s incredible to be a part of something that makes you whole, to be with someone where all you need to survive is to be near him, to breathe in his scent and drink in his face.  It’s not something I want right now, but I do miss it.

We then continued to Steve’s Pack, because this addiction is contagious and Matt infected his mother with the “Steve’s Bug”. In beige. It really is lovely. So we dropped some cash there, and promptly left. Otherwise Matt would have started fondling a variety of things, and really, who wants to see a grown man fondle bags? We paused at the Kippa Man, where Matt went into the narrowest store in existence, picked up two gorgeous kippot, and we continued to the Old City.

We moseyed on over to the Kotel. I realized, too late, of course, that I was wearing a tank-top. This is indecent dress for the House of G-d, and I was a little upset that I forgot to bring a shawl with me. Luckily, because it is summer, there is a fashion patrol of sorts, and they give shawls to those wearing shorts, miniskirts, tank-tops, tube-tops…you get the picture. One of the things that I love about Judaism is the way we all look out for each other. In many ways it’s the whole “village to raise a child” mentality, and it’s nice to know that there will always be someone who will watch your back. I approached the Wall, bent my head in prayer, and for the first time in a long time, I felt complete faith. I thanked the Big Guy for all he had given me, and for once had nothing to ask but that He protect the ones that have touched me, even if merely in passing.

After our prayer sesh, we headed to the Arab Market. It was perfect timing on our part - just as we started in the muezzin could be heard over the loudspeakers scattered all over the market - Allahu Akbar - it was so moving. We stopped first at the Holy Sepulchure to light a candle for one of Matt’s friends. It’s one of my favorite places in this country. I love religions.

We picked up a b-e-a-u-tiful bracelet for me, and a Fulla doll for Matt’s mom. This Fulla doll wears a hijab and sings in Arabic. It’s cute and a little haunting all at the same time. What’s actually slightly more disturbing is the fact that it appears that the doll was taken out of the box, dressed in Muslim-friendly attire, and repacked. I’m not sure how I feel about the doll. I’m all for cultures promoting what they believe is right and true, but I’m really not pro sexual segregation. It’s tricky, to reconcile tradition and modernism, and I’m not sure I’ve quite struck the balance for myself. I don’t know that I ever will.

Next was the trek to my parents’ apartment.  There is one (1) bus that will get me from Jerusalem to my parents’ place, and that is the 177.  I told Matt (who, due to the heat) misunderstood, and thought that was the best one, and not the only one.  So, when the 171 showed up, and he said, “Is this one good?” I only half glanced (and, to be honest, with the way the sun hits the digital-ness, sometimes the 171 looks like 177 and vice-versa), and said, “Yes, yes, this is it.”  We climbed on, and got moving.  All of a sudden - i.e. fifteen minutes later - I realized we’re heading in the complete opposite direction.  We get off in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, cross the street, and wait at what appears to be a bus stop.  The stop at which we got off is right near a checkpoint, so, it turns out that this “bus stop” is actually where Arab detainees are held when pulled over by the (really hot) soldiers (who approached us, looked at us like we were SpEd, and informed us that, in fact, this was not a bus stop). We go to the actual bus stop, and wait for what seems to be an interminable amount of time.  Then, under a halo of heavenly light, a bus emerges.  Turns out, it was the “Superbus”, the actual name of the company. It’s a subset of public transportation that caters to the religious folks, where the men sit up front and the women sit in the back with all of the children.  It’s very Jim Crow-esque.  Of the three buses that passed us, only two stopped, and the (nonreligious) drivers were clearly hesitant to let a tattooed, pierced man and tank-top clad woman (who were clearly unmarried) board the bus.  He knew what would be coming to him.

Luckily, a saint of a man picked us up and drove us back to Jerusalem.  Although he was clearly very religious and I was dressed as a “whore”, he spoke to me as an equal, and never once asked if Matt and I were married.  Although, if he did, it wouldn’t have been the first time we were asked.  He pointed out everything as we passed, explained the neighborhoods to us, and then dropped us off with three sets of directions to get back to the bus station.

What should have been a 45 minute ordeal turned out to be a three hour excursion.  At least we made it to my parents’.  I can only imagine what would have happened had we got stranded where we got off the bus.  And by imagine I mean we would have had to walk to Jerusalem.

What a day!

I’m all for slowing down the vaccination schedule.  Some doctors say this is bad, unnecessary, foolish.  I don’t know enough to know if they are correct in that, but my sentiment is that as long as children receive their vaccinations before they pass around snot-ridden toys in pre-school.

My problem is that, there is no hard proof that these vaccines cause autism (in fact, there s no hard proof at what *does* cause autism, although several people with fancy letters after their names are postulating a point mutation on some mtDNA).  This, of course, does not in any way mean that nothing should be questioned.  But herd immunity is immensely important. It helps children with compromised immune systems, who cannot get vaccinated, or who will not be able to survive the flu.

Many diseases that *should* be eradicated by now are still running rampant, needlessly harming and killing people.  I’ve seen and worked with children with severe autism and spectrum.  I know that living with and parenting these children, to say the least, is no picnic.  I don’t have children, so I don’t know what it is like to want to protect them, but everything is a risk.  Perhaps it is worth the risk of vaccinating in order to help protect the larger community.

My personal opinion, though (with, admittedly, little actual information to back it up) is that since most children with autism start out “normal” and suddenly regress, perhaps it is merely the timing of the vaccinations that makes it seems as if there is some correlation.  It is also possible that children are born with a predisposition to autism, and the vaccines set something off.

So, I gave the guy my number.  We meet up a bit later, and he says, “Wanna hit the beach?”  Seeing no problem with this, I jump on his bike (OK, moped)…and we head off to the beach.  He takes me to this secluded area, populated only by two copulating couples.  I say, “Ummm….FYI no?!”  And the whole time he’s apologizing.  The next thing he asks me is if I’m looking for a relationship.  Seeing as I’ve been in and out of them for the past four years, I answer in the negatory.  Just looking to meet people, make friends, and have a good time.  And he says, “Is that for real, or just because of me?”  And I say, “Uh, no, it’s for real.  I’m not interested in girlfriending.”  In my head, I say, “Oh.  I love needy and insecure.  NOT.”

So, we bizzounce from the beach, and head to a park.  We’re hanging, and the whole time he’s talking about how the best thing is a serious girlfriend (I hear: blah, blah, blah).  How Israeli girls only use guys (translation: I’m a doormat), that Israeli women are interested only in money and looks (aka, women not in his league). I remind him that I’m not really looking.  Oh, and also, I’m not a whore, so…don’t bother making a move (aka, not interested).  So, regardless of what he is looking for, he is wasting his time.  Because he’s not looking for friendship.

All of a sudden, he leans in for a kiss.  And I say…”Actually…no.”  But in a much nicer way (promise).  He pushes half-heartedly for a little bit (and I must say, as a girl brought up on Lawn Guyland, I was happy to hear that I have a lovely, lilting voice), but I was firm (I don’t do pity-booty).  Then he starts apologizing.  Profusely.  Again.  I’m not really sure why.  I mean, never apologize to a girl because you tell her she’s beautiful and you’re interested.  I apologized because, well, I rebuffed.  But seriously, man, get a grip.

I have a long year of unfortunate encounters ahead of me.  I can’t wait.

I read through a chunk of the comments, and was appalled at how nasty some people can be, the assumptions many of them can make.  For instance, many assumed he was Fundamentalist, that he had a problem with other religions.  More than a few claimed that he was selfish, manipulative, a religious nut, inflexible, and bigoted.  A large number railed against him for “cramming religion down his (future) children’s throats”.

Aside from the fact that many of these atheists/agnostics appear to be Fundamentalist (def: strict adherence to any set of basic ideas or principles) themselves, and hence slightly hypocritical, I have a problem with the last statement.  The process of parenting involves indoctrinating one’s children in the values they deem to be true with the hopes that when they mature and formulate their own opinions they will be identical to the ones they grew up with.

A parent, for example, will teach their children that drugs are wrong.  This, too, like religion, is an indoctrination.  Will a parent then be upset if once his child leaves home, and then starts shooting heroin?  Of course!  Not only is it against all that was taught, it is dangerous, and physically harming.  If a parent teaches her child to study hard and do all her homework, and then when she leaves for college she fails her first semester, the parent will also be upset - the child is hurting her odds at a good career and hence a good life.

It is the same with religion.  If a child turns away from the faith he or she was brought up with, a parent fears for his child’s soul.  A good parent will meddle if their child does drugs, and a good parent will get involved if their child “strays” from the religion in which they were indoctrinated.  Good parents will also know when it is time to let go, and allow their children to choose for themselves the life that they want.  Even if it means wasting away with cocaine, or converting to another religion.  For a devout person, these two are both harmful - one physically, the other spiritually.

A parent who chooses to raise her child within the confines of a particular religion (or within the realm of a non-religion, such as agnosticism or secular humanism), is no more cramming a concept down her child’s throat than a parent who makes his child study or eat his vegetables.  A child left to her own devices would never do her homework and would ice cream and cookies for dinner, resulting in bad grades and a bad stomach ache.  That is why they are children - they don’t understand how present actions have future consequences.  Until one day they do, and parents back off, and allow their children to do what they believe will be the best.

What bothered me most, I think, was the inordinate number of people riding the poor guy for refusing to raise children in a religion outside of his own.  I personally would not marry someone who wouldn’t let me raise our children Jewish, just as I wouldn’t marry someone who wouldn’t indoctrinate our children on the value of a good education.

And the vast number of people who called the poster bigoted are, in my opinion, the intolerant ones.