My Hebrew Sucks

Last night was a typical night in the life of a 23-year-old guy with a lot on his mind. Well, I wouldn't say staying out until the wee hours of the night is typical, and I haven't done it for a long time now, but it should be standard operating procedure at least once a month. That's been a motto of mine for years. You have to go all out one night a month - it keeps you young!

I digress into my own philosophical ramblings. At the end of the night, as is usual for such nights, I found myself wanting to purchase vast quantities of food, junk food, at my local twenty-four hour supermarket. I walked down to the market, noticed that the cashier seats were empty, and slowly looked around before I entered. Hey, I didn't want anyone to think I was robbing the place.

One of the regular cashiers walked quickly around the corner, broom in hand, and asked me what I wanted. I told her I just needed a couple things. She said sure, just a couple things? You aren't going to get a bunch of things? So, it'll just take a minute? OK, fine, you can go in.

That's what I thought she said. That's not really what she said. Let's just say I felt like an idiot when she scolded me for being so rude as to walk in directly after she said "I'll be a couple minutes. OK?"

Twenty-four hour supermarket? More like twenty-three hours, fifty minutes. Not my fault you have to sweep the parking lot. Not my fault that Hebrew can be so fast that even if I understand what was said, I often switch the meaning of the sentences around.

You'd be surprised how important little words like "you," "I," and "them" are to languages.

Lishkat HaGiyus - Army Recruitment Office

This envelope and her insignia mean many different things to various people; people inside and outside of Israel alike. This is the envelope that my tzav giyus came in, my I.D.F. induction notice. That sword and olive branch symbolize hope, peace, and security for a weathered people. The words Tzava Ha'Hagana L'Yisrael, Army For The Defense Of Israel, speak righteousness in my ears. I came to Israel to join this society, this culture of defense, these people that must serve together or face sure extermination. I came to place the seal of the Israeli Defense Force on my chest, no matter what anyone thinks of me or my decision. To think, all of this symbolism on a simple envelope!

But, as I have learned over the past few years living off and on in Israel, how different are our dreams from our experiences, how trying is the daily life in pursuit of a goal, how unideal our idealism can be! I dream of the day when I will stand tall and proud in this country, this unceasingly difficult to navigate country, unafraid of failure, defeat, and the dissolution of what I have set my sights on with the greatest of determination. I am lucky enough that my dream in life is so easily definable, a dream that I know I can achieve, but in no way does that mean that the gods have decided to take it easy on me.

The expectation that dreams will come easy is the fault of idealists with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the mountains. I can't tell you how many times I've heard from adults that "You're idealistic because you're young. That will pass when you see the real world." I disagree, of course. Idealism is not bound by time. Idealism isn't killed by the presence of reality. Rather, it is crystallized as strictly a dream by the very lack of reality. Our ideals and idealism and ideologies need not be attenuated for even a single day.

As a matter of fact, many grown adults, the greatest men and women of our history books, went to their graves with their undying passion decreased not a notch from its initial conception. Would Theodore Herzl, John Adams, Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, Susan B. Anthony, or Ben Franklin be the recognizable names that they are today if they subscribed to a defeatist attitude? No, of course not. Idealism doesn't die with time and reality. It dies with a failure to cope with the day to day struggle of living for a cause. If a dream is true and righteous, and the dreamer is conscious of his struggle's implications, even the greatest obstacles can be taken on with an indescribably joy - a reassurance in knowing that each assault on the realization of this dream is a sign that it is something worth fighting for. The greatest goal is always the most contested.

With all that high and mighty contemplation on dreams and goals and passions, those cliche words that I can't help but use, I think it's finally time that I get to the point of this post. Men and women like Herzl and Anthony and King faced real difficulties in the pursuit of their dreams: poverty, public indignation, death threats, insurmountable odds in the practical application of establishing a new country or changing thousands of years of discrimination. Those are enviable challenges to add to one's resume when accomplishing a goal. The names that exist in our text books knew real stumbling blocks.

So, what's the hardest part of my personal journey? What causes me to lose sleep at night? What takes my hope and determination and twists it into a little ball of doubt and hesitation? I wish I could say that the public wouldn't understand my beliefs, that I would be a person beyond my time, but I am just one of thousands joining this army. I wish I could say that I face poverty, but the truth is that I will be paid for my service to this country, a luxury many idealists traditionally can't rely on. No, and I hesitate to be so honest, but the greatest obstacle to me attaining my dream, the element of this pursuit that distresses me the most, is sheer embarrassment!

Have you watched the movie Full Metal Jacket recently? If not, here's a clip of the beginning of that film. If you have bad-language sensitive ears, I highly recommend just taking my word for it that boot camp commanders are not nice people.





Now, the Israeli army is so wildly different from the American army that you can hardly compare the two outside of the use of guns and tanks and war jets, but I just can't help but see myself as one of those idiots being yelled at! I can't help but imagine that I'm going to be the idiot that smiles during all this! I can't help but imagine that anything like this will happen at all! And to think it will all be happening around me in a language that often flies over my head...

The truth is that I am not afraid of the traditional possibilities that are inherent in joining an army. Because I see this army as a great miracle, that there is a Jewish fighting force wearing the Star of David after 2,000 years, that we are a real army with a record of unfathomable accomplishments, because this army is itself an ideological dream, I am proud to be a part of her in any capacity possible. The gift that I, of all the generations that have lived before me, have the chance to actively defend the Jewish people from savage enemies - It would be a sin to say no. My idealism easily conquers the fear of fighting.

All that pride and idealism was washed away in an instant, however, when I started talking to a very attractive and very uninterested female soldier in the army recruitment office a couple weeks ago. I had to go in to give them a copy of my diploma (which is in Latin, by the way, so I wonder what kind of looks that thing prompted) and sign some request forms. Going upstairs to hand over the diploma and give them some more information, I spoke Hebrew the entire time without any difficulty. The girls in that part of the office didn't seem to have a problem with my Hebrew, and I didn't have a problem understanding theirs. Fifteen minutes later I felt pretty damn good about myself and my journey.

And then I had to talk with Little Miss I Hate My Job. I was shepherded into a closet, a room with two desks and about two feet by two feet of free space for me to stand in. I figured I would jump right in with the 'Brew.

"...שלום אני רוצה לבקש"

Simple Hebrew, simple request forms, but she looked at me like I was speaking Greek. Now, why was it that the girls upstairs treated me like someone who does speak Hebrew, and this girl was looking at me like I had a third eyeball? Needless to say, her immediate switch into English killed my spirit.

Eventually we got to the part of the request forms where I had to give reasons why I wanted to move up my induction date to the army. All in English, of course, I explained that I am going to be older than the other guys by about five years, so I want to just get in there and get the waiting over with. As she was writing all of this in Hebrew, I mumbled "אני ישן".

Stupid, stupid mistake. "You are what?," she asked. After a second of looking at me, she began laughing the heartiest laugh I've heard in years.

"Yashan?! Did you just say that?! Yashan!" She couldn't get enough. She looked over at the other girl in the office, who was leaning halfway off her chair trying to figure out what was so funny, and began speaking Hebrew that I unfortunately understood quite well.

"He said 'ani yashan!' Oh, he's going to have fun in the army! What an idiot!"

Here I was, standing in the middle of this tiny little office with my backpack on, looking around, totally realizing my mistake in using the word for old that is the opposite of new, not young, and just having to shrug off two cute girls' laughter at my expense. And then they turned to their commanding officer who was sitting in the adjacent office and filled her in. Some guys who were there doing paperwork looked at me and shook their heads in disdain. I was the butt of the joke.

After the laughter died out, my considerate and compassionate Israeli sister looked up at me and said in English, "Your Hebrew make me laugh today. Thank you." Unable to resist, I leaned forward, placed my hands on her desk, and said "Your English make me laugh today too."

I guess you have to keep a sense of humor when it comes to these things, but think about my position! Here I am, joining a far-away army, and I am barely proficient in the language. Israel's army was founded on the backs of immigrants, and it continues to be the only sure way to integrate foreigners into the society, but that doesn't mean it's easy to be the guy who is only 50% sure of what's going on, to be 30% sure of what to say, and 5% sure on how to say it.

You want to know what I'm worried about when it comes to my time in the army? I'm not afraid of bombs, bullets, or bad guys. I'm afraid of being yelled at in Hebrew and having exactly zero idea what was just said to me. I'm afraid of being told "Don't let any cars in," and instead hearing "Let all the cars in." I'm afraid of having to get on the radio and call in a question to HQ. I'm afraid of messing up the language.

But as I said before, if dreams were easy, they wouldn't be dreams. If I spoke fluent Hebrew, I would be like any other Israeli. The army wouldn't be a dream, but rather a requirement or responsibility. If you ask the average Israeli if they were in the army, they'll say quite matter-of-factly, "Yes. Why?"

If you ask me in a couple years if I served in the army, I think you'll get quite a different response. You see, the obstacles to our goals that seem so Herculean at the time, those very obstacles become part and parcel of the goal itself. Not only are your obstacles unavoidable, they will come to define your path, and even give greater purpose to it.

And if you find yourself laughed at, like I was, remember this quote by Viktor Frankl: "The attempt to develop a sense of humor and to see things in a humorous light is some kind of a trick learned while mastering the art of living."

Who Needs A Translator?

My boss sent me these pictures. These are 100% real signs in the Lake Kinneret area, the Sea of Galilee, the Jesus place (and Israel's biggest freshwater source). My boss, Mikhael, is pretty dead on with his observation of whatever mindset could allow these signs to actually be paid for and displayed in public as legitimate warnings for a well traveled area. I mean, these signs just take the cake!

According to Mikhael, and I agree: "I think that Israelis are so PROUD of their English, that they won't dare ask anyone to proofread it. I've been taking pictures of signs and wrappers since I got here, too. From the Psak Zman "4-play" candy bar (to put you in that special mood) to Kenvelo's F.B.I t-shirts ("Inspect body girl" -- get it?!), to permanent storefront signs ("Burger's Bar"), they just will not ask a native speaker to give it a once-over before it goes to the printers, I guess."



No, these are not Photoshopped.



That almost sounds like an Orbitz commercial. Keeps the teeth cleaning!



Could someone please translate the Arabic for me? Post them in the comment section on this post...



That one is probably the worst. It is, in no way, even just a terrible translation! It's on a different planet. The others were on the right track, with a bit of an adjective and noun shotgun blast. That one...

Heaven forbid the paid employee would stop any one of the thousands of Americans living in Israel and ask casually if their translation is correct.

Thanks to Benji at What War Zone??? for the link!

Hebrew Is Gobbly Gook!

Interesting Article Here!

This article that was on the Jerusalem Post website a few days ago is actually an answer to a question that I've had for a few years now. Considering that I am working with great effort on learning the Hebrew language, sometimes I look at its non-Indo European character set and I think, "Is this gobbly gook to anyone else?" I mean, do Israelis look at Hebrew text and see it like I see English -- as plain as my image in a mirror, as distinct as red and blue and green, as natural as the glare of a summer sun?

Apparently not!

Hebrew University did a study whereby they found that slightly jumbled words are more recognizable in English, and other Indo-European languages, than they are in Hebrew. For instance, "tutrle" and "mcie" are easier for English speakers to reorganize, instantly, into turtle and mice than their Hebrew equivalents would be.

This is because Hebrew is a root-based language. The Hebrew root is essentially a string of a few letters which have a definitive meaning, but can be used in tons of different forms (from verbs to nouns to adjectives) to carry on the meaning in a different context. You can't change them up.

In English, however, we would just have a totally different word with no connection between them. The best way to characterize the difference between Hebrew and English is that whereby English has thousands of more, distinct words, Hebrew is based more on context, structure, and these precious roots. Distinct words versus distinct word forms.

The roots can make for some really cool trivia. L'hosif, Yosef, tosefet - never mind.

Anyway, this makes me feel great! I kept wondering why my very smart teacher couldn't recognize a word in my homework because two letters were backwards. So those native Hebrew speakers actually don't have that instinctive recognition of Hebrew either! There's hope yet.

(If anyone wants to hear more about how AWESOME Hebrew is, comment on this post).

My Hebrew = 8 Year Old's

I was walking to the supermarket a few days ago and I passed a little girl shouting from a falafel stand to her sister sitting in a parked car. She yelled across the sidewalk to her big sis' to ask her dad what he wanted on the falafel. It was too cute, but it also gave me some much needed linguistic faith.

"Tagee - tagee - tag - tageedi aba..."

She couldn't spit out her Hebrew either! It's funny that a child's poor language skills gave me a boost of confidence. Not that children speak poorly. Actually, quite the opposite.

My Hebrew is about the level of a small child's (in terms of true fluency), so when they speak so much more quickly and correctly than I do, well, it really makes you think "I SUCK."

Thank you stuttering Israeli child for giving me hope.

Eh, It's Not All Fun & Games

You'll notice I've up this "Digg" thing on the right side of every post. Just an attempt to modernize this blog. I'm going to add FeedBurner soon, in case anyone wants to access the blog by RSS. Also, I bought the domain name "www.israelibyday.com" so when you access this site, that's all you have to remember. That's the new URL. For information on Digg, click here. To sign up for Digg, just click on the link itself.

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Anyway, so I want to inform the public here of a word that was used quite a bit in class today. Namely used by me to refer to the British girl that sits next to me. Yes, you, British girl. I know you are reading this. And yes, I'm about to PUNK you on my blog -- so, my Mom and Dad will read this, which is about the extent of my readership. Consider yourself officially "in the blog."

A nudnik, or in Hebrew נודניק, is a pest, an obnoxious kid that can always be heard asking, "Dad, Dad, Dad, hey Dad, Hey! Hey, are we there yet? Hey Dad? Dad!" An annoying, incessant, aggravating individual. Like this Brit in our class who argues every word with the teacher, even the one we have once a week who really doesn't speak English. I know what you're thinking. Give us an example of how she's a nudnik (technically a nudnikit, but whatever), right?

We were doing some grammar work when we came across a new verb. One problem inherent in learning a new language is a tendency to want to translate everything. Sometimes you can't help but translate. You don't really have any connection to the new word other than in your old language. For instance, I haven't used or experienced the verb "לזעזע" in Hebrew. So, when I think of "לזעזע" I'm really only thinking of the translation, "to convulse." I haven't melted that word into a neural pathway. I haven't used it in public. I haven't heard anyone say it. I've never seen it.

A nudnik, on the other hand, sometimes forgets that perfect translations are fairly worthless. The Brit finds herself in that boat. Again with the silly Europeans, right?

So there I sat as the class, mainly feuled by my English neighbor, got into an intense argument over the translation of a verb meaning roughly "to accomplish." No, maybe it means "to achieve!" Or "to perform?" No, that's not right. How about "to realize or attain!" I know it... "to actualize." Or how about when she argued over the difference between "fog" and "mist," all the while the actual word I needed to know began to slip away from me. I forget how to say... Perfect. Nudnik.

Oh, and we were tired today, if you couldn't tell by my two buddies in the picture. D, be careful what you wish for!

I've said over and over how this country is the international hub of the Jewish world -- and maybe of the Christian world, as well, considering that while walking through the Old City a few days ago I overhead a man say, "Well, it's more fun to love Jesus, anyway." That made me smile. Hey, you help our economy, you can love Jesus all you want!

Last week we were sitting in class, mumbling through our lessons with our typical laziness, when there was a knock on the door. About 5 people were out there, some rapid-fire Hebrew took place, which I caught just about zero of, and then all of a sudden a huge camera was in our face.

Apparently, the largest news provider in Brazil wanted to get a piece of the Hebrew action. Once a week, according to my Brazilian friends sitting next to me, that particular TV channel does a piece on some interesting thing. I'm not sure if it's always an international topic, or just whatever catches the producers' attention, but they've decided to do a bit on Israel.

This cameraman came into our class, stayed in there for about 15 minutes filming all of us while everyone except myself tried pathetically 100% harder to look like good students, and then left with all of our souls in his digital device. Well, minus the last part, of course. It was quite humorous to me to see everyone sit up straight, wipe the gunk from their eyes, hack up the morning mucus of reticence, and excitedly respond to our teacher's own amount of added effort: "Binyan?" "Hitpael!" "B'atid?" "Teeshtataef!" "E'zeh talmidim!" "E'zeh morah!"

Not that I'm better than anyone else, or that I'm cooler for not joining in with any added enthusiasm. Not at all. I just found myself to be, believe it or not, quite camera shy. Hey, Brazil is a big country, with a lot of people. Presumably a few million people may see this thing. Doesn't that make anybody else discomfited? At least I wasn't one of the people who got that super bright, super scary camera shoved in their face. If that's the price of my 15 minutes, count me out of time. It was so hilarious when he got down on our Ethiopian student's face, zoomed way in, and just held it on him for about a minute. I think he felt the same way as me. He's had enough excitement in his life. You know, the whole escaping genocide thing.

I probably would have told him to bugger off, as the Brits say. Coincidentally, I was caught on tape again by this same group as I was eating some falafel out in the New City. And then, that same day, they caught me as I was leaving the Old City. Can't a brother get some privacy? Sheesh.

Yesterday marked the one week anniversary of my ulpan. If you read a previous post of mine you'd see that I thought I was in the lower half of the class, barely able to keep up with the level. I was mistaken. I wouldn't be so presumptuous to say that I'm actually in the upper portion of the hierarchy, the hierarchy of the "better" students, but I would say that I seem to have one of the larger vocabs and ability to conjugate the verbs. Essentially, the way the class works is that she throws things out there, like a new verb or some review, and we answer her with the conjugated forms or sentences or discuss the questions she poses. Many, many times I'm the only one answering when it comes to which structure the verb falls in; the binyan, an all important element of conjugation. Sometimes, I'm the only one even answering what the verb means -- we do have quite a few on our plate right now, so I think I just have a mind for memorizing infinitives.

It's funny that I was so worried about the next 5 months and whether or not I would be able to stick to the class for that long. If you miss a day or don't understand something, and don’t have a chance to study, in a language course, you're just screwed. I had a right to be weary, but I misjudged my fellow students. I'm not saying they're dumb, or don't know Hebrew – they are smart, and they know the language pretty well. I simply lacked that all-important confidence. I am still too reticent in speaking, as I feel so self-conscious when I do. In my opinion, honestly, learning a language is the most difficult academic subject available. Math, science, politics... at least you can listen to the professor in your own language!

The class has taken on some new people, and other people have left (for the ones that left I thank Heaven). We have two new French girls, one of whom is fairly beautiful, but I don't think they really speak English. The pretty one is a little ridiculous. For instance, she was talking on her phone in the classroom, during class. For about 10 minutes. Yeah, French people often deserve their stereotypes, at least in my encounters. Also, we got an Ethiopian guy, who I can't understand a word of in Hebrew, or any other language for that matter. I think he speaks French to the Parisians. And, we have these two really cool Brazilian kids, a guy and a girl (and another girl, but apparently she said that the Americans have funny/stupid accents and she can't understand us, so...). The cool Brazilian girl is pretty attractive, in that South American, she's a dance instructor kind of way. The guy was supposedly an Olympic weight lifting hopeful. He isn't overly huge, though, so maybe I misunderstood him and he only helped train weight lifters. Whatever.

The last word is about this really really cool Italian girl. She's from Turin, which makes her cultured right off the bat. She knows Latin, French, English, Spanish, Italian and working on the 'Brew. Being that she's Italian, even though her English is better than many Americans, she tends to speak Hebrew with an Italian accent. So, when you think of Italian inflection, think "Now that-seh spice-eh meat-ah ball-eh!" And then, in Hebrew, "Yeish-eh lee-eh cheshek-eh laasot-ah..." It's a problem because suffixes are king in this language, but boy oh boy, how I laugh and laugh when she speaks! To myself, of course, considering I probably sound like a redneck to these people.

And yes, my main observations were just about the attractiveness of the girls in the class. What else did you expect? I'm 23!

Yesterday morning, bright and early, I had my first day of ulpan, intensive Hebrew school. Five hours a day, five days a week, for five straight months. Sitting in that seat and realizing how strenuous the next five months are going to be, I felt not a little pang of despair. I'm not normally one to feel like that in academic environments, but the nature of an intensive language course, one for a language of the country you live in and desperately want to be a part of, the language of Abraham and G-d Himself; The nature of learning a language under these circumstances is slightly overwhelming.

I suppose you could just call that 'pressure.' Sure, there's a lot of pressure to learn, but it goes deeper than pressure. Think about America and the influx of Hispanics. How many of us think, "Can't they just learn the language of the country they want to live in? If you want to go to all the trouble of moving here, take the trouble of a year or two and learn English!" A common sentiment, no?

The same sentiment and attitude is present in Israel, but it's magnified ten-fold. Firstly, a huge majority of the citizens of Israel, the Hebrew speaking public, come from families that moved to this country around a hundred years ago or less, and mainly around seventy years ago from the period of 1929-39. So, if I ever find myself having a conversation with older people, like taxi drivers or the random guy on the street that asks if you got any cool pictures of Bush (true story, had a 20 minute convo with this stranger), I tend to ask where they are from. They say Israel. I say, "No, no, where were you born? Where is your family from?" Germany, Syria, Morocco, Poland, Russia, etc. The point is, everybody's grandad and grandma had to do ulpan, every one learned this language in the exact same way that I am right now. There's no other way, really, besides the army.

The sociological effect is a mentality of "Everyone else did it, you can too," and if you don't, or cannot... Well, there's obviously no punishment for not knowing Hebrew, except the social stigma and despise it will bestow. In a country of rough personalities, people that don't care to hold back their opinion, despise is just about the equivalent of a crown of thorns.

But don't worry about me. I'm not too terrible at the language, and I enjoy it, which goes pretty far once you're in the trenches of language acquisition. If you are forced to learn a language that you couldn't care less about, like Spanish in high school, you'll never learn it, and if you get overwhelmed -- you're finished. So, I love Hebrew, even if I suck at learning it. It amazes me that I can have whole conversations in this strange language, after only a few months of class time over the past 2 years, and especially when I compare my knowledge of this language to Spanish, which I took for four years in high school. Four years and I couldn't order food at the local Mexican place. A few months of Hebrew and I'm debating politics and religion...

The only problem is that I'm either the worst or second worst speaker in my class. Ulpanim are broken down into knowledge/skill levels, which are determined by a written and oral test. I am in an intermediate (lower side of intermediate) class, which is just about my level, but the kids seem to know a bit more than me. The demographics of the class are interesting: 3 Americans including myself, 2 Brits, 2 Brazilians, 2 French, and an Italian girl that's probably 6'0 tall. The problem is that European and South American Jews are taught to speak and listen to Hebrew, while Americans are generally taught to read. So, I may be the worst speaker in the class, but I am one of the best readers.

Unfortunately, however, in the hierarchy of learning Hebrew, speaking is king. Therefore, I am the dunce. One last thing: Were you wondering what it actually means for a language course to be "intensive?" It means that the class is 99% Hebrew. For 4 and a half hours the only English or non-Hebrew you hear is when a new word is explained. And the levels above me don't even get that much. The teacher just goes, "Shalom, boker tov blah blah blah blah." And you're expected to keep up, or else.

As my new teacher, Sara, told us, "If you do not review, you will not remember, and if you do not remember... You won't get a job!"

Wish me luck. I will absolutely need it.