Liat Shpigler
צילום: יעל כהן
Making the team
As an old-new immigrant, Liat Shpigler often wonders if it is more fitting to present herself as American-Israeli or as Israeli-American
You are American in Israel and Israeli in America and you oftentimes have to ask yourself if it is more fitting to present yourself as American-Israeli or Israeli-American (the latter adjective is the stronger).
However, there comes a point, after living in Israel that you know you’ve made the team. I moved to Israel with a group of North Americans on the Israeli Scouts Garin Tzabar program. We lived together in Kibbutz Ashdot Yaacov, and most of us woke up before the roosters to go work in the banana fields. Kibbutz Ashdot Yaacov is near the Sea of Galilee, a place that attracted predominant figures in the first aliyot to Israel, amongst them Rachel the Poetess who is buried on Kibbutz Kinneret.
In those days, when naivety (as Israelis would call it) or purity of heart (a more American description) was still my predominant drive for being in Israel, I likened my banana-picking experience to the “real” Zionists, the ones who arrived in Israel to work the malaria-ridden land.
Then I joined the army, and I will never forget the first day I wore my olive green uniform. I was standing alone at Haifa’s central bus station and someone called out “hayelet” (hey soldier), and then again, “hayelet”, and when I finally realized that the poor man, who simply wanted to know what time it was, was talking to me, I turned around and answered him with the best possible Hebrew accent.
Later, being Israeli meant dreaming in and making people laugh in Hebrew.
Body language
But being Israeli is the way the outside world perceives you too. Israeli became being a representative of the Jewish State all over the world.
I recall having to explain to some very one-dimensional woman on a flight that people in Israel actually do look like me. I was wearing pants, no head covering, told her I drove a car and not a camel and at that point had a nose ring – I shattered this lady’s perception.
In two separate locations, Turkey and Thailand, my family members and I were coined Israeli even when we didn’t reveal that often-tender detail.
Being Israeli abroad is often associated with stealing sinks, packing up one of each of the edible options displayed at the breakfast buffet in multiple napkins, and carrying them throughout all of Paris, Milan, Moscow, Prague and New York, only to throw them out later, so that you don’t feel cheated somehow. It is also bargaining over one Baht, because Israelis are so empathetic that they suddenly understand the worth of the Thai currency.
So, conscious of the perception the world sometimes has of Israeli travelers, I don’t necessarily advertise my Israeli identity, (even though it should be noted that I am not ashamed of it and do not hide the fact when asked).
A few years ago, my mom, my sister and I were moseying along the Egyptian spice market in Turkey’s Istanbul and speaking in English (no this wasn’t a performance for the Turks, but actually the language we speak amongst ourselves). When we stopped at one of the stands the owner tried small-talking us into buying something and in an ever-so-friendly manner asked us where we were from. We answered him in an effortless, accent-less English. Nonetheless, the guy wouldn’t buy it. He was sure we were Israeli because he said we had “an Israeli look in our eyes”.
What that means, I don’t know – but I guess being Israeli is body language that doesn’t only include conjoining your thumb, pointer and middle fingers into what means “shut the $%&* up and wait a minute.”
Was it fisherman’s pants or chutzpah?
Then, one day on a sunny beach in Koh Samui, Thailand, my sister and I ordered some ice cream from one of the vendors making his rounds. We paid, he left and we opened our ice creams and found that they were quite undesirable and fully freezer-burned. We waited for him to return and when he did, called him over to ask for a replacement. Our whole side of the conversation was conducted yet again in perfect English.
I was surprised to no end when the guy very fervently answered us in Hebrew better than a lot of Israelis I know that “lo ani lo mevi lachem glida chadasha” (no way was he giving us another ice cream), and “mah zeh mashkanta? Bank Hapoalim, Bank Leumi?” (did we think he was a mortgage broker at Hapoalim Bank or Leumi Bank)? Again, said fluently in Hebrew.
Was it the fisherman’s pants, the curly hair, the chutzpah? Whatever it was, it was identified as Israeli.
Funny thing, abroad I am called Israeli and in Israel I am American when I'm doing something not to someone’s liking, when I'm naïve or because I didn’t grow up on "Rehov Sumsum" (Israeli "Sesame Street") or "Parpar Nehmad" and Israeli if I know who the "Gashash Hahiver" are, drank Tropit (soft drink), eat schug (hot pepper sauce) and fly to Turkey on an all-inclusive deal. Which one is it?
