My apologies for not blogging for a few days. I'm afraid a combination of bad blind dates and the GRE kicked my ass.
Like a good leftist, I made an appearance Saturday night at the annual Rabin memorial event held in Tel Aviv's Rabin Square. Like a bad leftist (or maybe an honest one), I left early because I had a blind date.
I'm usually bored at such events, and although I did enjoy the company of some close friends who also attended, this was no exception. Can anything more be said about the assassination? How many religious people were in attendance? I think I saw maybe three people wearing kippot.
The memorial opened as it always does, with the loudspeakers playing an excerpt of the speech Rabin delievered in that same square, just minutes before he was shot dead, and then it was followed by the announcement that the prime minister was dead. I still feel the emotions swell up inside when I hear those words.
At the request of the Rabin family, no "politicians" spoke at the event. Tel Aviv Mayor Ron Huldai was the lone exception, and his comments were quite political. He said those who do not accept democratic principles were not welcome in Tel Aviv. I guess he meant elements of the right-wing who are calling for refusal to implement the evacuation from Gaza, but technically speaking he could just as easily been referring to someone like me who refuses to serve in the territories.
Former chief Rabbi Yisrael Lau also spoke. I wasn't paying too much attention, being the rabid secularist I am, but he said something about how Rabin was one of all of us, in an apparent effort to depoliticize the man and his legacy.
I left less than an hour into the event. I went to meet my date near her place and we headed to a bar called Paula, which is on the corner of Ben-Yehuda and Ben-Gurion streets. She picked the place as I had never been there.
Anat (not her real name) was quite beautiful, but definitely puts time into it, with bleached blond curly hair and the requisite makeup. Immediately I suspected she might be the typical bourgeois 30-something single woman in Tel Aviv. The fact that she wasn't at the memorial event was a point against her in my mind.
"Aren't you scared of going to such events?" she asked me early in the conversation. I found this to be a strange question considering they haven't been the site of terror attacks. Even stranger when she told me of her recent trip to Thailand, where Al-Qaida could target the Israeli hot spots.
Anat told me about her work as an accountant for the government tax office, Israel's version of the IRS. She was very proud of a recent promotion and told me of how people are always asking her tax questions.
At this point, less than 15 minutes into the evening, I'm wondering what the hell am I going to talk about with this woman.
I told her of my hopes to become a professor and lecture students. "My parents are both teachers so I guess that's affected me. But I don't want to be a teacher."
Her next comment went somethign like this: "Being a teacher, that's a low-level job. Not intellectually challenging."
Now, the teaching profession in Israel gets a bad rap. They are underpaid and as a result, perhaps the most qualified people don't become teachers. But Anat just told me that my parents are in low-level jobs that aren't intellectually challenging. I decided not to say anything.
At some point Anat talked about how her depressed friend was so amazed by her positive outlook, how she refuses to be depressed, how when she lived in New York for two years people were struck by her positive outlook, and even a New York traffic cop she befriended stopped giving her tickets when she parked her car outside the work.
(She also told me that she's not allowed in the U.S. for several years because she stayed after her visa expired.)
"Is it too late? You said you have to go to work early tomorrow, no?" I asked.
"No, I'm fine. It's not late."
Shit. How much longer do I have to listen to this dribble. And the bar is filled with young Tel Aviv residents, smoking, badly dressed, trying to act sophisticated. I just want to be in a cafe with a good book, or curled up in bed with my basset hound.
"I don't understand how people sleep with dogs," she said at one point. "Don't you think about what she licks."
She told me how she usually comes home from work and goes out with friends. What do I do for fun, she asked. I like to read, go to cafes, walk my dog, run, swim.
"Do you have muscles?" she asked. I couldn't tell if she was kidding or actually so shallow that she thought this was an appropriate question.
I said something like, "Well, that's not something I'll reveal right now." (I didn't know what to say.)
Luckily, after a few awkward silences, she suggested we get the check. I offered to pay, only because I wanted to avoid any interaction with her over dividing it. I put down 70 shekels for the 55 shekel bill and didn't wait for any change because I wanted to get the hell out of there. I walked her home and made the required "Haya naim l'hakir..." ("It was nice to meet you") and headed home.
