You knew it was coming. After all, it’s the white elephant in the room. I can’t call myself an oleh columnist and not write about it. I’m in the Holy Land, livin’ the Zionist dream, enjoying the hot weather and beautiful beaches…in a culture that’s absorbed enough Americana for me to feel comfortable and delude myself into thinking that it really is enough to speak English here. But there’s this pesky little thing that keeps nagging at me. Everyone’s speaking Hebrew, man!
When I got here, the only Hebrew I knew was the alphabet – back from when I was Bar Mitzvah’d – in a time when Michael Jackson really was the King of Pop and everybody still watched VHS. I could follow along in a prayer book during services…until I lost my place and then I was screwed.
It’s a priority for me to learn Hebrew. I mean, I feel like it’s my language, as a Jew. I want to speak it, so I wasted no time registering at an ulpan – an intensive language school for adult immigrants. I’m working full time, but my job’s based in the U.S., and my hours are afternoon through evening. So I decided to take the most intensive “Kita Alef” class offered – mornings, 5 days/week, 5 hours/day.
My advice for new Ulpan students: hang on tight. (And, go to class everyday, and do your homework.) Also, it helps if you teach yourself the Hebrew “cursive” alphabet before the first day. If you don’t already know it when the course starts, it’s like having to learn two entirely new alphabets. (Ed: also useful – Hebrew, the naughty words!)
Being an English speaker in Israel is really a blessing curse. Israelis all know English, and it’s tempting for Anglos to be lazy and coast. If I only spoke Russian, French, or Spanish, I’d have no choice but to learn Hebrew. But for English speakers, you really have to be motivated. Also, there’s some pretty suspicious loopholes to the “everyone speaks English” rule. I’ve been in situations where my Hebrew skills didn’t cut it, and I had no choice but to use English. It really sucks in those moments to ask everyone around you, “Do you speak English?” and get only “No” responses. What gives? I thought that not only could everyone speak it, but also that “Israelis love to practice their English.” The reality though, is that even if Israelis can speak English, they sometimes fake it that they can’t. Maybe it’s to avoid the embarrassment of making mistakes. Nobody likes looking stupid.
Then, there’s the exquisite awkwardness of being out with a group of Israeli friends, maybe having a coffee. At first the conversation will be in English for my benefit. But the default’s always Hebrew, and we’ll they’ll keep drifting back into it. Someone will usually catch me up periodically in English. But if they don’t, I’m just left to smile and nod, nod and smile. It can be embarrassing; not just because you don’t understand and have to smile and nod like a moron, but because everyone knows you’re not understanding and just smiling/nodding. Poor guy, they must be thinking. Not understanding a word of this, having to fake enjoyment when he feels so left out. I bet it’s awkward for him. I’ve definitely gained some retroactive insights, like why my friend’s Japanese wife may have been so silent in past conversations, or why a Korean friend of mine sometimes made syntax mistakes like, “Is that a sewage?”
Fortunately, I’m blessed with a lack of embarrassment. I don’t care if I “look bad” and like an obvious new immigrant by making lots of mistakes when speaking Hebrew. I am one! So a couple of months ago I began speaking Hebrew in stores. Simple things like, “I want 500 grams of Mexican turkey, please,” and “Three slices please – without olives.” But full-on conversations still felt out of my reach. I would try with Hebrew-speaking friends, but after two conversation “volleys” back and forth, I would feel totally inadequate and bust forth with, “Oh, who are we kidding? We have to use English if I want to say anything….”
I get lots of opportunities to practice Hebrew throughout my day. Like when I forgot to take my “towel card” from the desk attendant as I left the gym after a workout the other day, and I went back and said שליחה,שחכתי את הקרטיס שלי. תודה, ביי (Sorry, I forgot my card. Thanks, bye!).
Or, when a woman asked me for directions as I waited at an intersection for the light to change. I didn’t know enough Hebrew to help her out, and I tried to explain this, but she really wanted an answer and wouldn’t accept my limitations. She pointed to the street we were on and asked me (in Hebrew) This is Dizengoff, right? I answered yes, but still couldn’t answer her next question. Eureka! Since I had my bearings, I thought to point to my left and say צפון (north) and to my right and say דרום (south), and she was like (in Hebrew) A-ha! Thanks, Buddy! as she took off in the direction she needed to go. Score!
And, I was super stoked when I spontaneously answered my boss in Hebrew, and told him an important piece of information he was asking about. He was so surprised, and when we eventually switched back into English, he was very encouraging, telling me I had done great.
And then a few weeks ago I decided to take it to the next level and start attempting Hebrew conversations with my friends. There’s no “waiting until my Hebrew’s good enough.” That’s not how it works. You have to “jump beyond yourself,” and just begin using it in conversation. It’s like being a rock climber. To get to the top, you have to, you know, climb up the side of the mountain. And it’s really difficult, a real struggle. But you’ll never get to the top without climbing. Or I’ll recall a parallel situation from New York, when an immigrant struggled to speak English with me. Of course he made mistakes and used the wrong words, or put them in the wrong order. But I never mocked him. I was patient and encouraging, and admired what he was trying to accomplish.
Oh, I go s – l – o – w . You can practically see the gears turning in my head; it’s like I’m expecting time to stop until I come up with the right word or verb conjugation. My poor friends just look at me and wait as I stare a million miles off into space, coming up with the word I’m looking for. And I need lots of help from them; it’s like I’m a bimbo actress and they’re feeding me lines…
עבל אני עושה אותו (But I’m doing it)