Today, someone told me about Woody Allen’s movie “What’s Up, Tiger Lily?” While I’ve never seen it, evidently Allen took a B level Japanese movie, and without knowing a word of Japanese, dubbed his own script over it. This is my life here in Israel.

Right now, I’m at work, listening for the second time to a training session on how to use the new website we’ve been building. The training is not for me, which is both why I can write right now and why it doesn’t matter that I don’t understand a word of what is being said. This is the second group of many of educational program organizers that associate with the organization I work for, and for the second time, I am the only person in the room who does not speak Hebrew fluently. I’m starting to feel the frustration of the “stranger in a strange land.” If nothing else, this experience is giving me new respect for my grandparents who moved to Canada and never quite grasped the English language. Not so long ago, I took my grandfather to probably the only Hungarian-speaking optometrist in all of the province of Quebec so that he could get new glasses. I joked that over 50 years, he had managed to find every Hungarian in town who could provide any possible service he might need. Last week, I asked someone for a recommendation of an English-speaking optometrist here in Jerusalem. No jokes this time.

What frustrates me most about living in this “Anglo bubble” (everything related to the English language is labeled “Anglo” in Israel) is that I hate being seen as a tourist. While I know I’m not even slightly an Israeli, I still would much rather blend in with the locals than stick out as the stereotypical lost, hopeless American. However, breaking through the walls that Sabras (native born Israelis) put up is not easy, as they are reluctant to accept anyone into their club. (Interesting side note: Sabras are named after the fruit of the prickly pear cactus, because they have a tough outer shell but are sweet on the inside, just like native Israelis.) I had someone tell me that after living here for close to 30 years, serving in the army, marrying an Israeli, and raising Israeli children, when she walks into a store and asks a question, they respond to her in English.

What I am pleased about is that I’ve finally managed to stop looking like such an American. I’ve started wearing sandals with all manner of clothing, I’ve stopped wearing t-shirts with random university names splashed across them (in Hebrew or in English), and I’ve taken to putting my Nalgene bottle, the true mark of an American, inside my backpack instead of in the exposed side pockets. Thus, on a regular basis, Israelis will stop me and ask for directions in Hebrew. However, when I respond with a puzzled “Mah?” (What?), they immediately switch to English, and I’m left feeling like an imposter once again.

Therefore, I am once again publicly setting a goal. My first attempt at using all of you as motivation worked well, as I found a job well before my due date, so I figure I’d use you all once again. My plan is to be studying in an ulpan (Hebrew language school) by the end of October. Now, some of you may remember my aborted attempt at taking an ulpan soon after arriving in Israel, and my lack of desire to commit to studying that hard. You should not worry; my desire to commit is just as weak now as it was then, however I managed to find a part-time (2-3 days a week) ulpan that I have heard good reviews on, thus making the prospect of studying much more palatable. Furthermore, some of you may question the extra-long time frame I have established for this goal. However, this is compensation for the fact that the Jewish High Holidays fall at the beginning of October, and that Julia is on break for 10 days in October, not to mention that her mom is coming to visit then too. So, the end of October it is, and I urge you to do the same bit of nothing you did last time to ensure that I meet my goal.

In other news, as of yesterday I had wasted a sum total of 2 1/2 hours at the local bank, and I still did not have a functioning account with an ATM card. In the states, when Julia and I went to open a joint account, they had us out of there, checkbook in hand, in less than 20 minutes. Here, I’ve gone in twice, both times for over an hour, and they still don’t know why it’s not working right. While I’m a bit frustrated by this process, the hope is that by opening the account, we can reduce some of the exorbitant fees we’re paying Washington Mutual every time we touch our money. In addition, the Israeli account enables me to actually receive paychecks from one of the jobs I’m working at an organization that requires direct deposit. Sometimes the Israeli version of efficiency blows my mind.

Speaking of that job, I had a nice chat with my boss today about my work there. Basically, I went in and told him that I wasn’t sure I wanted to be working there anymore. In recent weeks, I had grown more and more frustrated that this job was taking me away from my fundraising job, which in my mind is much more important and much more likely to be helpful on my career trajectory. Furthermore, this job is a good 40-minute walk from home. While it has been good exercise, it has also been very tiring, which lead me to start walking there and taking a cab home. However, the cab fares are equivalent to a good chunk of my daily salary, thus making me even more frustrated. The good news is that we reached an agreement today that I think will work to everyone’s satisfaction: instead of hanging up my keyboard, I will continue to work for them, but on an as-needed basis from home. This will give me the flexibility to work at odd hours, like when Julia is studying, and without having to schlep to the other side of town. Here’s hoping this system works, or I’m going to be rather annoyed at the time I wasted at the bank…