Just when I start to feel like I am in an exotic foreign land, I realize that it is indeed a small world after all. Since I’ve been here, I have had quite a full social life—at least more than what DC afforded me. That could be due in part to the fact that in DC, every spare second of my life was consumed by a soul-sucking academic schedule. Anywho, I am fortunate enough to have an Israeli pal who has introduced me to a fabulous bunch a gals.
The other night, I went to a dinner party hosted by one of the ladies and before long, the conversation turned heated. Of course, this is the Middle East, so which topic could have stimulated such a discussion? The Palestinian-Israeli conflict? The Iraq War? The Iran nuclear threat? Yeh, no. The universal issue of greatest importance to a group of educated, passionate, politically informed women is naturally…boys. So, sitting among a group of fantastic women who hail from every corner of the globe, it occurred to me that the world is not as diverse as I had previously thought. I think the one thing I came away with was the realization that if I had thought the dating pool in DC was a bit shallow; I am now certain that it is positively parched here. Then again, this is the Holy Land, so miracles do happen.
Possibly in my favor is this new-found freedom to behave as an unabashed flirt without feeling silly about it. At home, I’d be afraid of making a fool of myself. Here, making a fool of myself is a daily past-time. I am under no illusion that I am projecting an image of a confident, capable woman. That conception of self was duly erased the first night here when I mistakenly ate a half pint of sour cream thinking it was yogurt. Anyway, the silliness has already paid off…literally. I got my friend out of a $100 + parking ticket thanks to an exaggerated hair flip, pouty boo-boo kitty face, and some hum-min-na hum-min-na eyes at two Israeli traffic policemen. My friend came running out of the bank to find me cooing to two men who had moments before been yelling threats. After a few minutes of sweet talk, they said that they’d waive the ticket, but if someone with a real handicap showed up, we were going to have to move. Is it really this easy? Has my hard, feminist exterior in the U.S. been working against me all of these years? Does ‘dummying it down’ actually make me smarter? I’m afraid of the answer.
Mind you, I only engage in this kind of overt flirtation on the Israeli side. In my Arab neighborhood, I don’t see too many women out and about. I couldn’t imagine there being a benefit to making myself even more conspicuous. Let there be no mistake; people are wonderful here. The Palestinians I have met so far have been so gracious and hospitable. For example, one day while I was butchering their language in the neighborhood shop, one of the female customers standing at the counter shyly handed me a bonbon. Now, there is an off chance that she hoped with the bonbon in my mouth I would have to stop desecrating her beautiful ancient language. The more likely scenario was that she was trying to show me that I was welcome.
Still, the politeness that I have encountered troubles me a bit, if only for one reason: I am not quite sure if I am making any sense when I speak in Arabic. Everyone indulges me and they nod along as I say my little schpiel. Then as soon as I’m done, they start speaking to me in English. I’ve decided that I’m going to have to put my foot down and insist that people speak only Arabic. I will do that as soon as I expand my vocabulary beyond the two verbs and six nouns that I seem to have mastered. First step: learn the numbers so I can stop holding out a hand-full of coins to the cashier every time I need to pay for something.
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