Day Forty-Six

I went up to Yemin Orde for Shabbat – I think there's something that has clicked in me... I feel...different, in a good way.

Tuesday – the day started as any other – I got up, ate and ambled off to work. There was a new madrich in the zoo, one I’d never met before – ‘R’.

We went off to de-cartziot all the doggies – he speaks FA all English, so I really made an effort with the ole Hebrew. Anyhoo, the animals absolutely love him – they went nuts when the two of us approached their cages. I was like his pet the whole day: he’s been working there for 5 years, so obviously knows the ropes...so we ended up working together in the donkey and camel enclosure. My job was to get 5 kids (there were 6 groups of 30 kids visiting the zoo that day) onto the donkeys, then let the donkeys run up to the end of the enclosure and back, while I did that R took the camels around, and I got more kids on the donkeys, and let them run,  etc etc.

So it transpires that I have little to no ability to control five rampaging and snack-hungry donkeys. Long story short, the donkeys would run up to the end of the enclosure, but never return. Every time. So R would go and chase them all back to me, then go and take the camels etc etc...thereby doing the job of one and a half people.

The Brit in me felt the need to apologise for this. Upon going up to him halfway trhought the third group of the day to apologise for my inability to complete the donkeys' run, he looked into my hot sweaty face and said [in Hebrew, 'there's no problem, don't worry, you're doing really well'

Amd then kissed me on the lips. In front of 30 relig girls from Beit Shemesh.

Now, in modern Israel,I'm guessing it;s not the standard protocol to wander up to coworkers - who you've only just met that morning - and give them a ful on smacker, particularly infront of a large group of kids, relig ones at that.

I gave it a bit of time, and got back on with my rather taxing work (I jate to admit it, but, being hihgly embarrased, I immediately succumbed to every English impulse there was, including a crazy amount of blushing). However later I decided to talk to R in private about what had happened earlier. I thanked him for all the help he gave me, and complimented him on his amazing ability to control animals and children (I thought I had animals locked down...turns out I'm horribly wrong) and then asked him what the F*@# he thought he was doing earlier. Did he not know I was datia? Was it the nosering? Was it my elbows on show? Was it my crazy 'seductress' eyes?

But then maybe I'm NOT datia, in contemporary Israeli thought - sure, I keep kosher and shabbat, and I was pretty much shoms til that incident... but I have a nosering, and I'm very chatty with the Israelis, boys and girls... maybe this is actually an indication of untzniut behaviour?

But no, simply put, the reply to my questions was, in broken English:

'I. Loooove. Yooou.'

Love? That was out of LOVE?!

I must say I was ...incensed. Love? What was this guy's problem, taking the piss...

Then I remembered that occasionally, some vocab doesn't translate so well. The Heb verb אהבה - Ahava - means both 'to like' AND 'to love' - there is no differentiation.

So, after a quick explanation - that 'love' is like weddings, bride and groom, for life etc etc, and 'like' is like girlfriend, boyfriend, a more immature form, I got the corrected version of the confession, and that was that. I explained that before doing that kind of stuff, one should really ask some form of permission (especially since I've never had a coldsore and I donlt want one, but I donlt know what they look like so even if someone had one I probably wouldn't be able to spot it) .

Everything returned to normal the next day at work, and another diplomatic incident had been averted.

Later, recovering from this incident, I was sitting down to write it all up outside the miklat when Frenchie joined me. I'm always nervous when these occasions arise, as Frenchie only has two modes of operation: 1. multiple personalities and 2. relentless argumentative idiot. Mostly these two modes are concurrent.

Frenchie also never drinks, mostly because it could potentially trigger off the evil/frightening/psychotic personalites. Here he was, polishing off a bottle of wine, which he invited me to join him in.

I can think of at least three things I'd prefer to do than drink with him. 1. Sit through a four-hour solicitors meeting while badly needing a wee; 2. Perform minor surgery on myself; 3. Entertain Cheryl Cole/Zac Efron/any footballer for an evening. The salient facts of the subsequent experience are these:

- Frenchie has a terrifying laugh when drunk
- He does not like to argue in French, but forgets parts of general English grammatical structure when drunk. So we switched back to French.
- He does not like me at all. And he likes to follow me around, telling me so. In fact, upon managing to escape him for the sixth time, I finally just sat and admitted defeat so that he could accomplish his aim. At least it made him happy.
- He does not understand Hebrew. Hungarian wandered over to see what all the commotion was about, and we communicated between ourselves in Hebrew, while he and I spoke in Ftench, and Hungarian-Frenchie spoke in English. It was amazing, in a strange way.
- He is psychotic and paranoid, often imagining or inventing things which people (not just me) are saying about him/the French/etc.

It was exhausting. Then New Jersey wandered in, highly bemused. So me, her and Hungary went for a lap around the kibbutz, leaving Frenchie (at last glance) beating up the birdcage in the tree.

When I got back from the walk, the birdcage was lying in small pieces on the ground.