Back to the drawing board

In my two weeks back at home, I've been lucky enough to see good friends and family, and to try and keep up with my 91-year-old grandma as she rides her giant tricycle, which is pretty amazing when you consider that she can't see that well (my aunt or someone always accompanies her, jogging on the side).

It's been interesting to observe the effects of reverse culture shock within my emotional and logical clockwork. I found myself longing for Israeli bluntness instead of this "beating around the bush" business that Americans sometimes get into. 

(I will say though, I was glad to have sidewalks to traverse my environment without worrying about getting run over by a speeding car every 5 minutes, which is the case in Nazareth where sidewalks are either non-existent or cars are parked on them. The 2,000-year-old streets need an upgrade.)

I also found it hard to adjust to my parents' "New York minute" attitude about time and structured sense of planning. The other day I woke up, leisurely late, at around noon, and my mom got home about an hour later asking if I wanted to go to a yoga class that started in a half hour. After that we were planning to get a manicure (which is rare for me, being a "non-girly" girl; anyone who knows me well knows that I can't put on makeup to save my life), then run an errand, then go have dinner with some friends. It was like ABC. 123. Tic-tac-toe. Three-in-a-row. (Get my jist?)

In Israel, time is more stretched out. Plans are more easily made and easily unraveled (which can be good or bad depending on your perspective). 

I just got home from a New Year's party that my parents have been going to for the past 20 years or so. I do like everyone there, but I always feel like when I meet people here (in America) that I haven't seen in a long time, like I have to rehearse a kind of speech: "This is what I'm doing with my life and these are my goals and blah blah blah."

When I went to a Thanksgiving dinner at an American family's home in Israel (and they were part American, mind you), no one introduced themselves to me right away, which in America might be considered rude (or if there are just a lot of people then whatever), or asked me, "Who are you? What do you do? What's your story?" 

I just sort of drifted into conversations, and ended up having some really neat discussions without ever having to say, "This is where I was born, where I went to college, this is what I'll be doing in 20 years, blah blah blah."

It could also be a New York mentality to have this "speech." But I also think it has to do with the "American dream" idea, and cultural beliefs about "success." In America, "success" seems very important.

In Israel, people don't seem to live according to a "check-this-box-and-move-one, yes I've done that, now I'll do the next thing" (whatever that is) sort of mentality.

In California (at least in the Bay Area), people are a little less "success" oriented. When I lived there, I still had to recite "the speech" sometimes, but I feel like people in California are generally more about "hey, what do you do for fun? What's your favorite color? What music do you listen to?" etc.

Well, now I should start packing, which I always procrastinate on. Then it's back to the drawing board, cuz I haven't practiced any Arabic in 2 weeks. Get ready to be rusty.