Paul 2 Israel

Adopting the Canadian attitude of “politely waiting” in Israel is about futile as using cotton candy to sink a battleship.

In the bank this morning, I was part of a gaggle of new immigrants to Israel (like myself) trying to get their accounts set up. We had all been in to the bank yesterday to fill out paper work and needed to return today.

The woman acknowledged that my account was set up, but since she was so busy helping others who were as frantic as me trying to get their accounts open, I would need to return at 11am.

Not a chance! Since it is Friday, banks close very early (12ish).

So I went and lined up in the line for Israelis at the bank, requested to see someone else and then demanded that they finish the file which was on her coworkers desk.

To my polite Canadian amazement, it worked, and THANK G-D it did because it took 1.5 hours to fill in the paper work WITH the clerk, which means that I would have wasted this afternoon AND Sunday dealing with this.

Win!

Just as I arrived back at the ulpan in East Talpiot I realized I didn’t have buy a fan, one of my goals for the day.

After some initial research over lunch I decided to risk it and take a bus to the mall or “canyon” as it is known in Hebrew.

It was closed, because it is Friday. And so were the three other stores I tried, which made for a scorching walk in Talpiot.

I was about I give up when I remembered seeing a “Superpharm” while on the bus earlier. Superpharm is literally a Hebrew carbon copy of Shoppers Drug Mart, stocked full of LIFE products.

I got a cab and in a mixture of butchered Arabic, Hebrew and English i tried to explain that I needed a fan.

He showed me a Superpharm in a mall, but I had him drive me to the one I saw since it was on my bus route.

We arrived, and it was just a pharmacy attached to a medical clinic.

He drove me to the Superpharm that he had initially showed me and I got out.

Went in and no fans.

I spied a store across the mall and it was full of appliances.

I sprinted over and the door was shut and the last customer was paying.

I start banging on the door and shouting everything about how I am new to israel “Oleh hadash” to how I walked here, from some colorful curse words to the rhetorical question of “how would I sleep tonight.”

The door opened. I picked a model and as I was paying the woman buying a tv told me she demanded the clerk to open the door because she worked at the immigration agency.

Now for a thankfully chilly nap!