After about 20 peaceful minutes, a pair of guys came sauntering up the shore. Happening to catch my eye through my intentionally selected dark, dark sunglasses, one stopped.
"Ma nishma? Are you a writer?" he asked.
"No, I'm a teacher."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"You're great, you know."
"What does that mean?"
"You're really beautiful."
"I'm sick."
"You don't look sick... Oh, yeah, I guess a little pale. [pause] Do you want to go to the mall with us?"
"No thanks."
"Can I have your phone number, then?"
"No, I have a boyfriend." (Necessary statement, regardless of its veracity.)
"Oh, that's why I asked if you were married."
???
"OK, nice to meet you."
------
Ten minutes later, while I was on the phone, a middle-aged man walked by.This guy decided to use sign language.
[Pressing his two index fingers together, length-wise]: translation: "Are you with someone?"
------
These Nof Yam Israelis are a funny breed.
Upon returning home, I received a phone call from one of the Korean mothers at school. "I heard you were sick!" she said. (I have no idea how she heard. I knew it was a small school, but this is a little absurd.) "My son is sick too, so I made some soup. I'll bring it over right now."
10 minutes later, I had homemade miyuk-guk, a large tub of kimchi, and some Haagen-Daaz strawberry ice cream.
As much as I complain about the more undesirable aspects of Korean and Korean American culture, the Korean expatriate community in Israel is the most caring, supportive network. My fridge is always full of Korean goodies, I've had many homesickness-curing Friday night dinners, donations of hard-to-get items such as kim or a rice cooker(!!), and one mother even talked me through my dilemma of whether accepting the offer of teaching at the school an additional year would supplement or detract from my ultimate goals. All in all, I feel very fortunate. Who knew Israel was home to a thriving Korean population?
These Nof Yam Israelis are a funny breed.
Upon returning home, I received a phone call from one of the Korean mothers at school. "I heard you were sick!" she said. (I have no idea how she heard. I knew it was a small school, but this is a little absurd.) "My son is sick too, so I made some soup. I'll bring it over right now."
10 minutes later, I had homemade miyuk-guk, a large tub of kimchi, and some Haagen-Daaz strawberry ice cream.
As much as I complain about the more undesirable aspects of Korean and Korean American culture, the Korean expatriate community in Israel is the most caring, supportive network. My fridge is always full of Korean goodies, I've had many homesickness-curing Friday night dinners, donations of hard-to-get items such as kim or a rice cooker(!!), and one mother even talked me through my dilemma of whether accepting the offer of teaching at the school an additional year would supplement or detract from my ultimate goals. All in all, I feel very fortunate. Who knew Israel was home to a thriving Korean population?
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