...the customer at the post office started yelling, and the clerk...

The past week was a relaxing and fun one.  Work wasn't too stressful, the weather wasn't rainy, I got to see a couple close friends throughout the week, I had a festive Thanksgiving celebration, I had two delicious shabbat meals, and I got to see my roommate's play.

The beginning of the week was pretty standard.  I worked Sunday through Wednesday and swam a bit. I had Thursday and Friday off, though, so my weekend started early!  Wednesday night, I met up with an Israeli friend who I hadn't seen since the beginning of the summer.  When we last saw each other, we spoke mostly in English, sometimes switching to Hebrew, but usually only at a basic level.  When I met up with her for coffee this time, we spoke ONLY in Hebrew.  And not even in basic Hebrew.  Those of you who know me well know that I like to speak very quickly.  My friend also does.  About halfway through the conversation, she pointed out that not only was I able to follow her when she was speaking at her normal speed, but I was also speaking quickly, at a speed comparable to the speed at which I speak English.  I had a great time catching up with my friend, and the feeling of accomplishment after having such a flowing Hebrew conversation lasted the rest of the week.  I continue to surprise myself, especially because I never considered myself to be good with languages.

Thursday was a day of running errands.  My morning started at the post office.  I had to pick up two packages for my roommate.  I had all the notices filled out and signed granting me permission to pick up the packages, and I wasn't predicting any problems.  When I walked into the post office, though, my care-free attitude wasn't shared by everyone.  I walked in to a cluster of people crowding around the clerk and speaking heatedly.  I must have walked in at the end of the debate because a few minutes later, everyone sat down dejectedly, but the gist of the argument was that the customers who came into the post office were taking numbers (like in the deli department of the grocery store), but the postal clerks were just asking who was next in line without paying much attention to the numbers.   It got sorted out, and whoever had the next number went up.  After he was done, the clerk asked who was next in line.  No one moved, so he asked again.  The man next to me, the main screamer from the crowd before, started complaining under his breath.  The clerk asked again, and when no one moved, he finally went back to the number system.  The screamer happened to have the next number.  It was so Israeli when the customer started yelling again about the numbers and the clerk began yelling back.  The conversation went something like this:

• Customer: BLAH BLAH BLAH
• Clerk (maybe in his 40s): I don't understand.  My father yells at me once a year, and I have to listen to you yelling at me every week.
• Customer: I have to yell in order for you to listen.
• Clerk: I don't think so.  You just seem to enjoy yelling every time you come in.  I never listen.

I found it quite funny and giggled a bit.  After this gentleman and a few others, my number was called, and with not too much trouble, I was able to pick up my package and be on my way.  Apparently even with the form filled out, I am not allowed to pick up my roommate's packages, but with a bit of sweet talking, it all worked out.  Afterwards, I had a relatively painless experience settling my apartment's property tax bill (it was my second visit to the office, though), and I got to do a bit of shuk shopping and have a quick swim before heading off to a Thanksgiving dinner.

Several years ago (the year between high school and college), I was a participant on the gap-year program Nativ.  Each year, there is a big Thanksgiving dinner for all of the participant and any alumni who are in Israel   This year, nine participants and one staff member from my group (two are not pictured) attended the dinner, and there are two other participants living in Israel who did not attend.  In all about 10% of our group is currently living in Israel.  It was nice to catch up with friends I hadn't seen in several years, and  get a little taste of America.

Friday, I did a ton of cooking.  The America theme continued.  I followed up a hearty Thanksgiving meal with a delicious Tex-Mex shabbat.  We had 10 people at our place on Saturday for a delicious lunch, and I introduced my Israeli and Australian roommates to the cheesy goodness and spicy yum of Mexican.  We made enchiladas, chili, and rice, and added a Mexican salad, chips, salsa, and bean dip.  All in all, it was a yummy meal and a fun one to cook, too.  I did a bit of reading and a lot of sleeping, and then Saturday night, I finished my weekend with a bang before going back to work today.

My Israeli roommate studies theater, and since I moved into the apartment in August, she has been rehearsing for a play, an adaptation of Kipling's (not Disney's) The Jungle Book.  Earlier in the week, I called to order tickets.  They were 30 shekels for students and 50 shekels for everyone else.  My other roommate, my friend, and I are not students, but I was able to get all three of us tickets for the discounted price because we are olim chadashim, new immigrants.  It was hard to follow the complex Hebrew of the play, but the scenery and costumes were very simple and the impact of the actors' movements and expressions helped us follow the story line.  I enjoyed the interpretive play, and it was cool to see what my roommate had been working on for the past few months.  Afterwards, we went of for hot drinks and then hurried home in the cold.

Now starts another week.