Wednesday afternoon I was sitting in the cafeteria at Hebrew University. I had just gotten out of a class about early Protestant texts in Europe, and I had, as usual, fallen asleep. It's hard to listen to Hebrew for 90 minutes straight! I am understanding more and more, but I still get to the "overload" point before class is over and my mind just checks out. Plus, I hadn't eaten much all day, and I knew I had to get a sandwich or something or else I wasn't going to make it through 6 more hours of Arabic.
So I bought an avocado, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a wheat hoagie. The thing cost me 13 shekels. 13!! I'm pretty sure that one tomato, 1/2 an avocado, the hoagie bun, and the 3 pieces of lettuce probably cost about 4 or 5 shekels. They are really making a killing off of those things.
Anyway, I went and sat down at a table and started wolfing down the sandwich so I could go to the library and meet with my Arabic tutor. A man dressed in an army officer uniform approaches my table, sets a folded note down in front of me, and starts talking rapidly in Hebrew. I understand nothing of what he's saying, but I smile politely and nod a couple of times, thinking he's passing out invitations to some event or something. And the "I live in the West Bank" part of me feels a little nervous, wondering if he's accusing me of something (he is, after all, wearing an army uniform). After a minute or two, he asks in Hebrew, "Is everything ok?"
"Yes," I answer, "but..." I stare at him and wonder if I should tell him that I have no idea what he just said, or if I should just leave it alone because I don't really care. "You don't speak Hebrew!" he says in English.
"Well, yes," I answer, not wanting to explain that I do speak Hebrew, but not when people talk that quickly.
"I was just sitting over there and I saw you. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I've really never seen anything like it. Here is my number (and he gestured at the note). I know we don't really know each other, but I would love it if we could go out for coffee or something. I'm sorry to interrupt your sandwich."
I sat there shocked. Really. What am I supposed to do in this sort of situation? I probably smiled or nodded or said, "No, it's not a problem that you disturbed my sandwich," or something, but I'm really not sure. What I do know is that after delivering his message in both Hebrew and English, he walked away quickly, and I finished my avocado sandwich and went to the library.
Later that evening, after my Arabic class in Jerusalem (another 3 hours in a different language--but this one was actually enjoyable), I was walking the 2 blocks home from the store. It was about 9 pm and, as usual at this hour, the streets were deserted. Suddenly I heard someone walking behind me, playing music on his phone. (Palestinian shabab have this weird habit of turning music on their phones and blasting it out of the little phone speakers when they want to look cool or impress someone.) Uh-oh, here comes trouble. Luckily I was almost home and hopefully, if I ignored him and let him get in front of me, I could walk in peace.
No such luck. I heard him approach. I slowed down to let him pass. As he passed, he turned around and said "Hello" in Arabic. "Hello," I responded in Arabic, knowing from previous experience that when I say something in Arabic, people leave me alone and just assume I'm native.
No such luck with this one. "Are you a foreigner or an Arab?" he asked in Arabic. "Foreigner," I said, looked away and kept walking, hoping he would get the hint that I wasn't giving him the time of day.
"Are you married?" Oh no. It's another one. How many of these people skip straight to the marriage question? "Yes." "No you aren't." "Yes, I am." "No. You aren't." Excuse me sir? Why are you calling me out on my marriage? I knew he didn't think I was married because I was walking alone at night, so I conceded. "I'm engaged, but I'm getting married next month." That should get him to leave me alone.
"Is he Arab or a foreigner?" "A foreigner." I didn't want this guy to think that I just up and marry Arab men.
"Do you want to exchange your fiance for me?" Excuse me? Did you just ask me what I thought you asked me? No, I do not want to exchange my fiance for you. This was not flattery. This was straight up harassment. Luckily, I was a few paces away from the store across from my house. I pretended not to understand the man and kept walking.
"Walk with me," he said, reminding me of Kohor on The Testaments (you know the creeper who employs Jacob as a stonecutter). The feminist in me gets fired up. Excuse me? Don't order me around. Don't tell me what to do, and don't think you're getting some action tonight. The only action you'll get is three slaps to the face if you keep talking to me.
I walk toward the store. "Where are you going?" "I have to buy something. Bye." "Bye," he says, and turns away. Wow, that was easy. I stayed in the store for several minutes to give him time to walk away. After buying my stuff, I checked to see if he was outside. Safe. I couldn't see anyone. I opened the door and walked out. And THERE HE WAS, skulking in the shadows.
"What?!" I said in Arabic. "Walk with me," he said. "No," I stated emphatically, looking disgusted. His shoulders drooped and he turned to walk away. I stormed into my apartment building. No such luck tonight, buddy. I certainly wasn't born yesterday.
That's two in one day, people. And I didn't even change perfume or laundry detergent brands...
So I bought an avocado, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a wheat hoagie. The thing cost me 13 shekels. 13!! I'm pretty sure that one tomato, 1/2 an avocado, the hoagie bun, and the 3 pieces of lettuce probably cost about 4 or 5 shekels. They are really making a killing off of those things.
Anyway, I went and sat down at a table and started wolfing down the sandwich so I could go to the library and meet with my Arabic tutor. A man dressed in an army officer uniform approaches my table, sets a folded note down in front of me, and starts talking rapidly in Hebrew. I understand nothing of what he's saying, but I smile politely and nod a couple of times, thinking he's passing out invitations to some event or something. And the "I live in the West Bank" part of me feels a little nervous, wondering if he's accusing me of something (he is, after all, wearing an army uniform). After a minute or two, he asks in Hebrew, "Is everything ok?"
"Yes," I answer, "but..." I stare at him and wonder if I should tell him that I have no idea what he just said, or if I should just leave it alone because I don't really care. "You don't speak Hebrew!" he says in English.
"Well, yes," I answer, not wanting to explain that I do speak Hebrew, but not when people talk that quickly.
"I was just sitting over there and I saw you. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I've really never seen anything like it. Here is my number (and he gestured at the note). I know we don't really know each other, but I would love it if we could go out for coffee or something. I'm sorry to interrupt your sandwich."
I sat there shocked. Really. What am I supposed to do in this sort of situation? I probably smiled or nodded or said, "No, it's not a problem that you disturbed my sandwich," or something, but I'm really not sure. What I do know is that after delivering his message in both Hebrew and English, he walked away quickly, and I finished my avocado sandwich and went to the library.
Later that evening, after my Arabic class in Jerusalem (another 3 hours in a different language--but this one was actually enjoyable), I was walking the 2 blocks home from the store. It was about 9 pm and, as usual at this hour, the streets were deserted. Suddenly I heard someone walking behind me, playing music on his phone. (Palestinian shabab have this weird habit of turning music on their phones and blasting it out of the little phone speakers when they want to look cool or impress someone.) Uh-oh, here comes trouble. Luckily I was almost home and hopefully, if I ignored him and let him get in front of me, I could walk in peace.
No such luck. I heard him approach. I slowed down to let him pass. As he passed, he turned around and said "Hello" in Arabic. "Hello," I responded in Arabic, knowing from previous experience that when I say something in Arabic, people leave me alone and just assume I'm native.
No such luck with this one. "Are you a foreigner or an Arab?" he asked in Arabic. "Foreigner," I said, looked away and kept walking, hoping he would get the hint that I wasn't giving him the time of day.
"Are you married?" Oh no. It's another one. How many of these people skip straight to the marriage question? "Yes." "No you aren't." "Yes, I am." "No. You aren't." Excuse me sir? Why are you calling me out on my marriage? I knew he didn't think I was married because I was walking alone at night, so I conceded. "I'm engaged, but I'm getting married next month." That should get him to leave me alone.
"Is he Arab or a foreigner?" "A foreigner." I didn't want this guy to think that I just up and marry Arab men.
"Do you want to exchange your fiance for me?" Excuse me? Did you just ask me what I thought you asked me? No, I do not want to exchange my fiance for you. This was not flattery. This was straight up harassment. Luckily, I was a few paces away from the store across from my house. I pretended not to understand the man and kept walking.
"Walk with me," he said, reminding me of Kohor on The Testaments (you know the creeper who employs Jacob as a stonecutter). The feminist in me gets fired up. Excuse me? Don't order me around. Don't tell me what to do, and don't think you're getting some action tonight. The only action you'll get is three slaps to the face if you keep talking to me.
I walk toward the store. "Where are you going?" "I have to buy something. Bye." "Bye," he says, and turns away. Wow, that was easy. I stayed in the store for several minutes to give him time to walk away. After buying my stuff, I checked to see if he was outside. Safe. I couldn't see anyone. I opened the door and walked out. And THERE HE WAS, skulking in the shadows.
"What?!" I said in Arabic. "Walk with me," he said. "No," I stated emphatically, looking disgusted. His shoulders drooped and he turned to walk away. I stormed into my apartment building. No such luck tonight, buddy. I certainly wasn't born yesterday.
That's two in one day, people. And I didn't even change perfume or laundry detergent brands...
If you stick around long enough you might have to hire a bodyguard to play the part of your fiance!
ReplyDeleteI love this story so much. I'm still waiting for the note translation, though!!
ReplyDeleteI don't understand why anyone would think this is a cute anecdote. WHY are you walking deserted streets on the West Bank ALONE? Are you nuts? This guy could have easily overpowered you - and he probably watched you "storm" into your apartment building. Now he knows where you live. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but not all human beings are nice, kind people who want to take care of the cute little helpless foreign girl. I think you should be a little more careful.
ReplyDeleteInteresting. Im also trying to learn arabic.
ReplyDeleteI can't wait until you write about your date with the Army guy! A "cup of coffee" (ahem. hot chocolate) sounds harmless - right? Thanks for sharing such a great story!
ReplyDeleteThanks, TazLady, for your concern. I think no one else who reads my blog was concerned because, well, they've heard stories like this before from me, and naturally I don't feel the need to disclose every single detail in exchange for smooth story telling. I was actually walking on one of the main roads in the city in which I live, and I told the creeper that I live somewhere else. I actually just walked into the closest building, which he did not know was my apartment building, and which would be a very normal thing for an Arab girl to do (walk into a close building to get help).
ReplyDeleteI definitely know that not all humans are nice, kind people, but I was surprised that someone would think I am a "cute little helpless foreign girl." Hopefully all those kickboxing lessons and the pepper spray I carry with me won't all be in vain!
Breanne - you are definitely not helpless. That was a poor choice of words on my part. It's just that in some of your posts, you seem to be at the mercy of strangers and you've really lucked out because it's always turned out ok for you. Your religion and your faith may be one of the reasons! You are an experienced traveler and will be fine, I'm sure. Just keep your eyes open and be careful, but still have fun!
ReplyDelete