Melanie's Mass Mailings, Vol 3 Issue 2: Escape from the Zoo and Other Stories

date: Jul 3, 2006 3:20 AM
subject: Melanie's Mass Mailings, Vol 3 Issue 2: Escape from the Zoo and Other Stories

Shalom Family, Friends, Frisbees!

Hope all is going well on the home front and wherever you may find yourself. Thaks to all of you who wrote back from the last e-mail--its so wonderful to hear friendly voices when I'm so far away from home. In trying to put some order into my life and my ramblings, I've decided to divide this issue into chapters as a good place to start. This is a long one (sorry!), so if you don't read to the end, I'd just like to sign off here by saying be happy and be healthy and enjoy life.

Tov, here goes...

CHAPTER 1: HOW TO ESCAPE FROM AN ISRAELI ZOO
(Or, If Melanie Can Do It, Why Can't the Monkeys?)

Yes, you read the title right. When I told my mom this story, I could see her shaking her head in disbelief yet not at all surprised over the phone. "Melanie, you just have some sort of cloud that follows you," she told me with a sigh.

I discovered the Haifa Educational Zoo by accident one late afternoon during my wanderings. I didn't have high hopes--I figured it might be a few snakes, some mangly looking petting zoo ponies, and that's it. The entrance gate was open and when I walked in without paying my expectations were further lowered.

Not having frequented many zoos in the past five years or so I don't have much to base this on, but wow! Lions and tigers and bears oh my! All types of monkeys! Mongooses! Pythons! Leopards! Alpacas! Peacocks wandering around! But one thing I just could not figure out: where were all the people? Wandering around the zoo for an hour or so I didn't come across another human being save for a few zoo workers who looked at me strangely and continued on.

As it approached 7:30 PM I was also impressed with how late the zoo was open--hoe wonderful that the children of Haifa can enjoy the animals so late in the day! It was at the owl shed that my zoo adventures came crashing down around me. "Giveret! (Ma'am!) WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? All the gates are locked and we closed over an hour ago!!" a man in green overalls yelled at me. More yelling and gesturing ensued as I proclaimed my innocence and he maintained that I broke into the zoo. The exchange ended in "I know you broke in and I'm going to call the police!" which I took as my exit cue, leaving me only one choice: time to break OUT of the zoo.

I made myself scarce near the crocodiles, trying to find the exit. I finally found a climbable gate, heaved my bag over and was climbing down the other side when Mr. Zoo Keeper drove right toward me on his golf cart, talking furiously into his walkie talking using the words "mistarah" (police) and "break-in." I didn't look back as I escaped from the zoo--I booked it to the main street, hoped on the nearest bus going vaguely in the direction on my neighborhood, and scrunched down low in my seat.

So the real question remains about my high stakes escape from an Israeli zoo: does my escape make me look better, or the monkeys?

CHAPTER 2: HOW TO FIND AN ILLEGAL ISRAELI WAITRESSING JOB AND QUIT AT THE END OF YOUR FIRST SHIFT
(Or, How to Make As Many Israeli Customers as Mad as You Can in the Shortest Amount of Time)

Though I am receiving a pretty solid deal through the Jewish Agency regarding my free apartment, wanderings such as mine tend to be a bit of a drain on the wallet just by going from here to there. That or like an out of control fire hydrant leaving me wondering where my last shekels could have gone.

Anyways, I decided to realize my dream of bartending around the world this summer. I asked around at a few places, and was ecstatic when I got an "interview" at The Camel, a trendy bar right on the beach with tables and chairs in the sand and cool colored lighting at night. On my first break of my first shift, I called my dad. "Dad! I got a job!"

It was just a few catastrophes later, after bringing napkins instead of olives and chocolate ice cream instead of beer when I called my mom on my second break. "Mom! I'm quitting my job!" Aside from the severe lacking of my Hebrew skills that caused many tables of Israelis to mutter about "stupid American," they wanted me to work on Shabbos (Jewish day of rest when religious Jews do not travel or work), which is not B'seder (OK) with me. Technically it's illegal to fire someone because they won't work on Shabbos, but let's return to the fact that I myself am an illegal worker in this country.

CHAPTER 3: HOW MELANIE THOUGHT SHE WAS IMMUNE FROM CULTURE SHOCK BUT ENDED UP WITH HER WORST BOUT YET
(Or, The Realization that Sometimes No Good Very Bad Days Happen, Even in the Holy Land)

I'm not going to lie--I thought I was a culture shock pro. I can identify the stages, I know the triggers, I can usually snap myself out of it within hours. But something happened to me that's never happened to me before in Israel: I was unhappy. I couldn't figure out what was going on in this land that I love--I was frustrated and lonely, broke and unfamiliar with the area. It didn't occur to me before I left that every single one of my Israeli friends would be in the army or university and therefore very, very busy, and I know absolutely no one in the city of Haifa. My Hebrew wasn't where I wanted it to be and suddenly the idiosyncrasies of Israel--the cars that honk non-stop and the way everyone cuts in line in the grocery store and how milk comes in a bag--the things that make Israel unique and wonderful became instead more than I could handle.

I found myself for the first time since age 16 doubting my commitment to live here (at some point in time). I missed knowing what was going on and where I was geographically (which does happen on occasion in the States). I began to second guess my decision to come to Israel this summer--what did I hope to accomplish? "Why are you here?" people ask me all the time. And if I can't answer them, if I don't know the answer myself, do I even have a right to be here?

But the funny thing about culture shock is how quickly it disappears. Maybe it was my escape from the zoo, or seeing the sun set over the Mediterranean or any little trigger that switched something inside me. Suddenly I opened my eyes and was so happy to be here--to be in ISRAEL. To be exploring a new city and speaking an unfamiliar language and finding adventures behind every corner.

I am so happy when people mistake me for Israeli or when I figure out how to get from point A to point B successfully or when I make the most perfect Israeli salad with vegetables from the corner market that cost 2 shekels (less than 50 cent, who by the way was in Tel Aviv last weekend). I love the way Roger Walter (of Pink Floyd) came to Israel last week and caused traffic jams over almost the entire country. I love meeting up with old friends and Maryland friends and new friends and eating felafel every day for a week. I just love being here, in Israel. I just love it.

So I'll sign off here... Sorry for the ridiculously long e-mail. Coming up in the next issue: How Melanie Finally Accepts That the "Stupid American Who Doesn't Know Anything Card" Will Never Trump Israeli Bureaucracy (Or How Melanie DIDN'T Run a Triathlon Even Though She Wanted To), and other adventures.

For those of you watching the news in the states, please remember that news from Israel is always presented with a fatalistic slant. I hope you will join me in wishing for a speedy and safe end for the current situation and a safe return for Gilad Shalit (the kidnapped soldier). But please also be assured that Israel is SAFE and daily life is marching on.

I hope you are enjoying your summers and escaping zoos of your own, both figuratively and physically. I wish you all the best wherever your adventures take you, and, above all, watch out for the crocodiles.

Yours truly straight from the monkey house,
Melanie