Chutzpah

Shalom you, yes you. The one who had the audacity to come to my blog and read about my crazy journey here in the LAND OF MILK AND MONEY.

You know what we call that all over the world (rhetorical question), we call that CHUTZPAH

Okay,  doing simple task here in Israel requires a sense of humor, a lot of patience, a huge bag of laughs that you can dig into without notice and wait, did I mention a sense of humor?

First, there are those moments when  I’m on the autobus and someone is stalking my phone so hard that the only thing I can do is turn my phone to the person and  share all of my instagram photos and voila , five minutes  later we are laughing together. I swear this happens once a week. Oh and getting in line of any kind and anywhere  looks like the original Exodus from Egypt. I’m talking Pharaoh  and his goons chasing us and everything. There is no line. Even when there appears to be a single file line, there is always that one person who just casually  walks to the front like they have been there the whole time. I also love when people shamelessly ask you how much money you make and how much your this or that cost  (I do this too by the way). I also love when I’m minding my buisness  and writing (like I’m doing right now) and I look up and somebody is just staring.

Matter of fact people stare so hard and it’s funny  because I’m good and ready for a stare down contest and I have literally ( after winning the prize of absolutely  nothing) waved or just smiled  or just  flat out asked “hakol beseder.” Oh and don’t go to the ATM  and expect privacy. HA. How many times have I actually gotten help because the person was right on my back waiting on my money like my son does when he needs something, which by the way is all the time. Let’s not forget parking and driving on the sidewalk. Oh how many laughs from seeing people drive on the sidewalk has given me.

I was not really sure if any of the above was all appropriate  but a client at the salon that I work at simply  pointed  out there is a small difference  between rudeness and chutzpah and that not everyone can spot the difference.

Look the moral of this post isn’t meant to be a bitchfest, it is a small glimpse into my daily experiences. I came to this country for an adventure  and I am living the exact vision I had for my life. I realize that we are literally family here so some of these  things reflect the realness and the comfort  of basically being in that setting, oh,  like seeing a woman tapping on the forehead  of a sprawled out and  heavily sleeping teenager on the autobus for a seat when all she had to do was go to the next seat. Family is the whole bus yelling at the bus driver for being heavy handed with his horn at sheva v hetzi  bah boker (7:30 am) and the bus driver actually yelling back. Family is me sitting next to someone  on the bus and him offering  a mint (I was like is my breath stinky or something)  and some  water (I did look a little  parched) and me looking in my purse  for something  to offer him in return.

I don’t know if it’s chutzpah  or rude but I’m having fun watching it all unfold…