Life of Yeshiva Guy

Israelis are great. Really. I’m not kidding…they’re great, and it’s great (read: a blast) to be around them. Israelis, in this particular context, is meant to be all inclusive. Let it never be said that I’m not a lover of all Jews. I mean chilonim, dati leumi’im, charedim, and yes, even Arabim. They’re great for many reasons, but the reason I have in mind might, to be honest, place the “great” term in slightly sarcastic overtones. That’s OK; it was meant as such.

Chalk it up to their Mediterranean temperament, the lack of stable weather conditions (this last week we had snow, a high 80′s gorgeous day of sun, and three rain days), or the stable they call the Knesset and the b’heimos inside, but whatever the case, the people of this land can never, and will never agree. On anything. Whoever said that Israelis aren’t contrarians is just being contrary. The fact of the matter is that they’ll argue with you over anything at all, anytime, just l’sheim the argument.

According to the old joke, Israel’s Prime Minister was once visiting with his US counterpart, the President. During the course of their discussion, each was bemoaning the grueling nature of their respective tasks. The President felt that he had a better claim on the more difficult job, since while he admitted that Israel certainly had more than its proportional share of political issues, he had to deal with far more constituents…300 or so million versus the paltry 15 million of Israel. The Prime Minister famously replied that while it was true that the President was in fact the leader of 300 million people, he is Prime Minister of 15 million Presidents.

Like they say, everybody’s got an opinion.

Throughout my stay here, I’ve noticed various manifestations of this attitude of ours. As with so many other things, no one is a better barometer of Israel’s national mentality than her taxi drivers. Here is a case in point…

The other week I was taking a monit (taxi) to back to my dira. Upon arriving at my destination, I indicated it with a wave of my hand and a casual “kahn“, which translates as “here”. The nahag (cab driver) slows down, points, and confirms with a laconic “poh“? Which, for those of you who don’t know, is synonymous with kahn. I nod and reconfirm with “kain” (“Yes”). And didn’t think too much of it. Until the next time I was in a taxi, and the same routine occurred. Kahn. Poh? Kain. Initially I assumed that they preferred the poh to kahn, for whatever reason. But I had my suspicions. Thereafter, I switched it up. I said “poh“, and received, as you’ve guessed, “kahn“?

The prosecution rests.

This little experiment has since been tested, and it is tried and true. It’s guaranteed to work. They just can’t help themselves from displaying this subconscious contrariness. Whichever synonym you use to express yourself, you’ll get the other in response. Try it yourself. Works every time.

Court adjourned.