Ode to a City

Who’d have guessed it? I’ve fallen in love, and it feels so good! The sights, the sounds, the people (well, obviously not all the people, and certainly not in an individual, sexual sort of way! Get your minds out of the gutter, people!)! That’s right, I’ve fallen in love with Tel Aviv! I know what you’re saying. You think it’s too soon. I’ve been on the new job for less than a week. You’re thinking that I’m still in the honeymoon period, that chinks in the armor will start to show soon enough. Okay, I’ll grant you that it’s certainly a possibility, but only as something in the vague, distant future. Not something that’s going to happen today, tomorrow, next week, etc. For now, this is it. The real deal. The tingly feeling (or is that a Fimbley Feeling? Too many hours spent viewing the kiddie shows on BBC Prime, no doubt…) I get when crossing the bridge from the train station, the adrenaline rush as I power walk through the streets towards my office (which may very well be connected to the caffeine buzz I pick up while inhaling the large, low-fat cappuccino I grab each morning at Ilan’s Café). Oh, and did I mention the magnificent vistas from the 7th floor patio of our office, with sweeping views of Tel Aviv? I know it sounds so cliché, but on a clear day, I can even see the sea! Oooh! It’s just so lovely!

Of course, with all due respect to those of you who actually live in the city, I’m not sure that I could live there, as attractive as it seems at times. I like my quiet and I like my space, both of which are at a premium in Tel Aviv. Still, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time there of late, and find that I’m sometimes envious of those who don’t have to tramp back to the suburbs at night, those who can step out of their homes directly into the hustle and bustle, with restaurants and shops at every turn. I mean, shit! How exciting must that be?! Don’t get me wrong, I love where I live. However, you can’t really walk anywhere, and the public transport is less than stellar. And despite the fact that we’ve got a number of shops open on Saturdays, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I sometimes wish for something more. I mean, not that I’m expecting a food festival or love parade, all I’m saying is that it might be nice if things were a bit livelier.

And Tel Aviv is definitely a happening place. Why, in my own little adopted corner of it, there are a veritable plethora of restaurants to suit all sorts of tastes, at least one excellent coffee place (as mentioned above), an assortment of shops and bakeries, and, for those of you who might be interested (though there’s certainly no need whatsoever to bring your interest to my attention), there’s even a selection of strip clubs. A most diverse area indeed. I haven’t had much of a chance to explore (and there are a few establishments that will most likely not make it to the list), but I do know that the British Council has an office around the corner, with a quaint little café that provides a range of current British newspapers, English news on the telly, a small library and a bank of computers connected to the Internet. Even the name of the café was quaintly British, though it escapes me now.

Just being in this exciting city makes me feel good, like I’ve suddenly been presented with a gift of endless possibilities, all mine for the taking. I can make plans with my Tel Aviv-based friends to meet up for lunch or a drink, or attend a stimulating lecture. I can go to the theatre or a concert, or catch a movie at any one of the many cinemas that the city has to offer. I can sit in a café for hours on end, nursing lattes and writing, while the world of Tel Aviv passes by. Aaaah, bliss.

I’m not quite sure how to end this, but it seems that the decision has been taken out of my hands, as the train will shortly be pulling into my stop, and given that it’s Sunday and the path to the door is an obstacle course of people, bags and weapons (many soldiers with rifles casually slung over their shoulders), it’s best that I start now, otherwise, I’ll never make it off the train, and will miss my morning coffee (shudder).

Welcome to my job

Well, after more than three months of searching, I've finally done it. I found a new job! I've been with my current company for more than four years; lots of ups and downs, redundancies and general disorganization had completely sapped my energy and will to continue working there, and an interesting reorganizational move following the last round of firings provided me with a boss whose micromanagement style made me want to beat myself repeatedly with a hammer. Motivation to move on had reached dizzying heights. Dusted off and updated the old CV, shot off a few emails and contacted a few old friends, and then sat back to see where the chips fell.

Interviewed at nine different companies in a veritable plethora of locations. Gotta love the interview process. Repeating the same information about yourself so many times that after while, it begins to sound fake. Honestly, if I hear someone ask me one more time to "tell me a little bit about yourself", I think I'm going to gag. One company even sent me for psychometric testing! Filled out a nine-page questionnaire (written in Hebrew, though I persuaded the powers that be to at least let me answer in English) by hand, followed by a series of intense logic-type tests using a computer. Was there for just over five hours, and by the time I was done, I felt like my eyes were going to bleed. Just to put you in the right frame of mind, think SAT exam from hell.

To make a long story short, in the end, I had to choose between two great job offers, each with it's own set of advantages and disadvantages. In the end, the company with the better location won out. Both companies offered some pretty nifty benefits, and I found that with just a bit of negotiation and playing one company off the other, I managed to get a salary and benefits package that was better than I'd hoped.

One standard option in many Israeli hi-tech companies is the option to take a lease a car through the company. Your salary is reduced by a certain (relatively reasonable) figure, and in return, you get a new car with all gas, insurance, etc., covered by that figure. If you happen to require a lot of gas, it can be a really great deal. Or, if your current car is beginning to die a slow, painful death, the leased car is suddenly a most attractive option. Given that we fall into that latter category (and we're not too shabby when it comes to doing a lot of driving, either), we've decided to take a car. Was told by the powers that be in the new company that we can choose between the Ford Focus, the Mazda 3 and the Toyota Corolla.

And so it began. We researched. We asked our friends. We became peeping toms as we wandered around parking lots, peering into windows to check the space (if we were lucky, there was already a baby seat, which would give us a better idea as to how our own baby seat would fit) and using our arms to measure trunk sizes. The husband even hit the dealerships, coming home loaded with brochures and information.

Back and forth it went. Apparently (depending on who you ask, anyway), the Mazda 3 has the best drive and the most comfortable driver's seat, but the smallest back seat area and trunk. The Ford Focus has the biggest trunk and is the most spacious, but doesn't have a lot of storage space for little things, no armrest for the driver, and no pick-up. The Toyota Corolla, might have a bit of a smaller trunk than the Focus, but there's more storage space. Everyone we asked had a different opinion. Back and forth, around and around, until we were dizzy. In the end, we decided on the Corolla, as it seemed to offer most of what we wanted and needed. Of course, I will continue to take the train to work, given that my new office is only ten minutes' walk from the station, and it would take me at least twice as long to get there by car. Besides, train time is the only "me" time that I've got, so why on earth would I want to give up a half-hour twice a day of reading or writing (on my new company laptop - yeah!) time and replace it with more than an hour each way of traffic time. Seems like a no-brainer to me!

Despite the fact that Husband will be the primary keeper of the car (and accordingly, his wishes as to which car we chose carried more weight, though we were in agreement on the Corolla, once presented with all relevant evidence), he says that I can choose the color! Now we're talking! Damn, it doesn't get much better than this!

(By the by, I would be terribly lax if I didn't make a point of mentioning that the title of my post is also the title of one of my favorite George Carlin skits. Just giving credit where credit is due...)

Of Trains and Men (and the lessons they fail to learn)...

I am a train commuter. We are a growing breed here in Israel, but when I first started taking the train, just over 4 1/2 years ago, we were still something of a novelty. While searching for my current job, I vowed that I would do everything I could to find a position that allowed me to commute by train. My previous job (which is probably deserving of its very own blog, as some of you know...) was a mere 40 minutes' drive during non-rush hour traffic. During rush hour, it became a nightmare, sometimes taking more than 90 minutes. Officially, I left because of the commute (the real reasons belong in the aforementioned, as yet unwritten blog), and I swore never to undertake a similar commute again.

But I digress.

When everything goes according to plan, train travel is great. I get on, grab a seat, stick my face in a book (just finishing up a reread of Marian Keyes' "Under the Duvet" while I wait for my recent Amazon order to arrive) and pull it out again when they announce my stop. Aside from the brief burst of energy required to move through the obstacle course of soldiers, civilians and a veritable plethora of bags to get off the train (in the face of all the impatient commuters so desperate to get on the train that they don't actually let you off first), then sprint to the other side of the station before everybody else (dodging equally harried commuters moving in both directions) in order to secure a spot on the shuttle bus, I arrive at work in a relatively relaxed state - no traffic frazzle, no near misses on the roads. Ditto for the ride home, when all I want to do is chill out after a stressful day at the office.

Yesterday, for hundreds of poor souls, everything did not go according to plan. Shortly before 6pm, a full train heading South plowed into a truck that was crossing the train tracks, killing eight people and injuring 195. Cars derailed from the tracks, some completely destroyed. When did I hear about this tragic accident? As I got on the shuttle bus after work, heading to the train station. We all looked at each other, silently wondering how this was going to affect our own commutes, and thankful that it wasn't our train. I even received an email from a friend who wrote that he rides that train home everyday, yet yesterday, he decided to work from home - a decision that may have saved his life.

They were saying on the news last night that the truck driver (who was among the dead) had been on the road for more hours than was permissible by law, and that the company he worked for had been under investigation by the police for allowing its drivers to work extended shifts. How typical of the Israeli fondness for bending rules and cutting corners! I am constantly amazed by the ease with which so many of the citizens of my adopted country ignore rules and regulations. It's practically a national sport, and nothing is done to change this dangerous attitude. Sure, there is talk, committees are inevitably formed (and occasionally, they even meet), conclusions may be drawn, and everything continues as before, essentially spitting on the graves of the victims whose lives were lost due to these callous acts of greed and ignorance. Whether it be a collapsed wedding hall in Jerusalem, a collapsed bridge over very troubled waters in Tel Aviv, or train-truck collision in the Negev, I fear that Israelis will never learn the lessons of these easily avoidable tragedies, and it is only a matter of time until we will be forced to mourn the next group of innocent victims.