10 September 2006

It may be the start of the school year here and you know Rosh Hashanah is around the corner with supermarkets selling candlesticks, gift packs of chocolate, and products like Pomegranate/Apple/Honey juice, but the weather feels like the middle of summer. Yesterday there was a nationwide sharav, the local term for a heat wave that's characterized by little or no breeze. Going out after Shabbat ended to catch up on email, the stagnant air and lingering heat felt out of place in this town set in the mountains. Returning to the apartment I caved in and used the air conditioner, which otherwise I've been incredibly good at keeping off.

I woke up to the sound and feel of the air conditioner, a wonderful feeling indeed. Today was no improvement over yesterday, and there was work to be done. To my advantage, defrosting a freezer on one of the hottest days made the whole process much smoother even with the scene of me pouring boiling water into aluminum pans which sat in the fridge, speeding up the process.
Off to City Hall to get a new immigrant's discount on arnona, the municipal tax. The walk over felt like walking in the desert, with very few fellow pedestrians in sight (smart bastards). Despite City Hall's impressive (and air-conditioned) halls, the process was typical style to both here and in the States: Get a number, sit and wait for your turn. I picked up a form I supposedly needed, trying to make sense of it despite there being no reference to new immigrants. Aside from the few university students waiting to get their discount (the municipality is encouraging students to live here by lowering their arnona payments), the vast majority of people waiting were either yeshiva students or wives of yeshiva students. Granted, it's important to have apt students learning Torah and Talmud; but this many?? Even though I am actively looking for a job, I felt in the moment very selfish for claiming this z'chut ("rights" as a new immigrant).
As I sat down for my turn with one of the many female clerks and told her that I'm an immigrant, she promptly said I didn't need that form – Who gave you that form, she asked? Chaim?? Of course he did, he's really been off today, hasn't he?! (turning to her colleagues busily rejecting the requests of other residents). She promptly took the necessary documents, offered to make copies of them for her own use (if you're not careful, most offices will take the originals), and was done in no time. Again, one more bureaucratic hurdle that went smoothly, especially after eavesdropping on the yeshiva student next to me, in his American accent, getting flustered over the forms he needed. A stop at the post office to pay the little amount I owe and I was done in ldefinitely less than an hour. The heat was apparently making Chaim and the rest of the clerks get testier than normal, as was everyone else in the city.
The friend on bleasure and I met at the shuk to grab some lunch. We sat down in the air-conditioned, popular café across from a spice market and what at first looked like an empty butcher. Soon after came the meat on the shoulder of some guy with no gloves, apron or uniform covering his clothes. The first piece was either a half of a sheep or the leg of a cow, hooked by the same guy who promptly wiped his nose with the same bare hands used to carry in the carcass. My friend had her back turned to the scene, but didn't miss the next installment. Soon after the guy was bringing in the hind quarters of what was definitely a cow, its ribs the size of a person's arm, all taking place in the heat approaching 100 Farenheit with no refrigeration in sight. Definitely glad I settled on dairy for lunch. After watching the butcher start to carve the Ivory soap fat off the slab of beef, it was time to get out of the "in" café.