“shame”

… was the human user verification word for the online fellowship application I just submitted. Is this a sign?

Severe Butter Shortage

When I went to the supermarket and found nothing but margarine where the butter should have been, aside from being mildly annoyed that I’d have to go to another store in order to get ingredients for my Thankgiving baking, I was charmed by the thought that I’m living in a country where a large supermarket could manage to run out of something as basic as butter.

When I went to the shuk, and found only a limited supply of butter there, it occured to me that the problem might be more widespread than I’d realized. As it turns out, Israel is in the midst of a severe butter shortage. Not surprisingly, climate change plays a role, as unusually warm weather has caused cows to produce lower-fat milk, resulting in less cream available for butter-making. While it’s frightening to wonder what other shortages might be coming our way as the earth continues to warm, I feel gratified to be living in a country where supply chains are short enough that the retail consumer feels the impact of what’s going on with farmers.

The Ministry of the Interior

This week, I had my first first-hand experience of the dreaded Misrad haPanim, the Ministry of the Interior. I had an appointment to get a new student visa, since my old one expires in a month and a half. All the horror-stories I’d heard about this place proved to be well founded. There were seven of us from Pardes who had appointments that morning, and at the end of the morning, after more than one of us had been brought to the point of tears, only one student walked out of the office with a new visa.

In the meantime, in the course of having our visas refused, we were subjected to the following indignities:

• One student had her sanity called in to question by the clerk processing her visa application, who told her that Israel doesn’t want to give visas to people who are mentally unbalanced.
• One agent refused to admit the existence of the country where the applicant’s mother was born (it’s a country you’ve all heard of).
• One student was told she needs to produce a certificate proving that she has never been married (I’m pretty sure that there is no such thing).
• One student was told that even though he has a letter from his Rabbi in the U.S. affirming his Jewish status, he needs a letter from a Rabbi in the other country where he has lived recently affirming his Jewish status.
• Another student was told that even though she has conversion documents signed by three rabbis affirming that she is a Jew, because she doesn’t have a letter from her rabbi to the same effect her application could not be processed. Never mind that the rabbi they want a letter from is one of the rabbis whose signature is on her conversion documents.
• I was refused a visa because I couldn’t provide my original conversion documents, even though the fact that my father is Jewish was enough to get me a student visa last year. The clerk actually looked me in the eye and said “we don’t give visas to non-Jews to study at yeshiva.”

Anyway, it looks like I might need to leave the country briefley before my student visa expires in December. I’m thinking this is a good excuse to spend my Hanukah vacation in Istanbul.

Overheard in a Brooklyn Cafe

Israeli Guy: Give me a latte.

Barista (not moving): Please?

Israeli Guy: Please.

Barista makes coffee.

I’m on TV!

There are a few reasons I watch the popular Israeli television series Srugim, even though it’s exactly the kind of show I’d normally disdain in America. For one thing, it’s a chance to practice listening to and understanding modern Hebrew, something I don’t get to do very much at school, where my classes are taught in English and almost all of the texts we read are in Biblical or Mishnaic Hebrew, or Aramaic. My modern Hebrew is terrible, so an insipid television drama provides just about the right level of sophistication for me.

The other draw of the show is that it is about religious Israeli singles in the their late twenties and early thirties, living in South Jerusalem. In other words, my friends and neighbors.

When I lived in New York, I never felt particularly drawn to watching any of the many television shows set in that city. But in Jerusalem, which is a much much smaller town, it’s quite exciting to see the intersection, the synagogue, the park I know so intimately show up on TV. It feels like watching a show about my own life.

But the real reason I watch Srugim, is that I heard a rumor a few months ago that I appeared in one episode, walking down the street. Being possessed of my fair share of ordinary human vanity, I started at the beginning of the series, looking for my face in every street shot. I finally found the episode I’m in today, but by now, after twenty episodes or so, I’m hooked. I might have to keep watching this silly television show until they cancel the thing.

I show up 20 minutes into this otherwise somewhat boring episode:

zSHARE video – Srugim.S02E03.avi.flv

But personally, I recommend starting from the beginning of the series.

Toilet Talk

I recently received the following email:

Subject: For some reason

Body: It feels weirder to poop with a hat and scarf on than it does to por [sic] with a beer and laptop. Is it just me?!?!