My massage therapist and I are both new immigrants to Haifa Israel. We both trace our roots back to Colorado in The United States. This story is both about Jonah's experiences and about the cultural challenges faced by immigrants to Israel.
Haifa, Israel from my window
When I was in the United States explains Jonah, I studied massage and reflexology at the Colorado School of Reflexology in Denver, and at Harbin in California. Although I had the training, I never worked professionally as a massage therapist because I wanted to do something more important with my life, but it looked like that’s never going to happen. Moving to Israel and not speaking the language, has me doing massage therapy. It would seem to be a perfect way to make an income especially until my husband David finds a job.
Also, since I’m older now, and my youthful beauty has been replaced by a big fat stomach the likelihood of getting hired for a “real” job is greatly diminished. Sadly, many of our friends and neighbors have experienced age and gender issues in seeking employment in Israel. Human behavior is the same everywhere.
We chose a two bedroom/1 bath apartment, which in Israel is called a three room apartment. The three rooms are the living room and two bedrooms: the kitchen and bathroom are assumed. The building is on what deceitfully appears to be a quiet street. It is quiet in the evenings — after say midnight — and all day on Shabbat. The rest of the time it is pretty noisy with cars, buses and people. What’s weird is the street really isn’t that busy, but it is still loud here nonetheless. Israelis are not quiet people. They love the "brogus" which is a mild dispute accompanied by lots of loud yelling and animated body language. The brogus is a public display most often found in grocery stores, the post office and in any situation involving motor vehicles. Driving is a night mare in this country. I and many of my friends will not buy cars or even drive in this place.
We wanted a place with an extra bedroom so that I can do massage. It is a good room for massage in being away from the street and having a tremendous view of the Mediterranean Sea and the Haifa port.
Purchasing a massage table was another story. One woman wanted to sell me a table that she used for facials. It was a fine table but not a real massage table. I wisely decided to keep looking and found a massage table dealer in Tel Aviv. He made it sound like he had a warehouse full of massage tables and we schlepped to Tel Aviv to purchase to look at it. His warehouse was a small one-room apartment with about five boxes of new tables. He demonstrated the table and promised it was sturdy and came with a year guarantee. The table was made in China so I had my doubts, but we couldn’t find a table anywhere else so we bought it. I’ve done enough massages to pay for things and now I am in the process of buying sheets and sheets and sheets just in case I actually get busy. Unfortunately, it creaks and squeaks and gives me concerns about breaking and I really doubt the table has a warranty.
What’s more, the dealer said the table was very light-weight and transportable. He carried it for me to the bus stop, and then it was my turn. What was he talking about? That thing weighs a ton. I almost fell over getting on and off the train with that thing. Anyway, it’s home now and business is coming in drubs and drabs.
The good thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean. The bad thing about having clients come to the apartment is you have to keep it clean all the time. Let’s face it, I’m not busy enough to schedule clients at my convenience so I have to give massages at their convenience. In Israel it is a habit to call and want to show up in the next hour or so. If the place is dirty, David and I have to scramble to get the room ready and make the place presentable. I have this toilet thing and won’t do bathrooms. Ick. So that’s David’s job.
Well anyway David’s nephew, Zack, called and wanted to know what we were doing. We knew that meant he was coming for a few days. David asked me if I wanted him, and I said okay. Two hours later Zack arrived. In spite of Zack’s good upbringing, he has turned Orthodox. Israel is a very non- sectarian society in day to day life. Sixty per cent of Israelis refer to themselves as "Hilonim" or not observant. Ten per cent of Israelis are orthodox or "Haredim". That being the case, Zack can’t eat our food or even use our kitchen supplies. Actually, this is good because I don’t have to cook for him. We have a couch that folds out into a bed, and we were somewhat set for company.
In repayment for our hospitality Zack made a massage flyer for me to post at different areas in town. I did, and received two phone calls. When it comes to advertising, there’s one little problem. I don’t speak Hebrew well enough to understand what someone is saying. The first call was blown. The second call, however, was from a guy who spoke broken English. With my broken Hebrew and his English we managed to make an appointment. It was one of those things where he would be there in an hour.
We hadn’t really cleaned the place up since Zack left and scurried to make the place presentable and the client was here before I could put sheets on the massage table. He looked around and said he would call again in an hour and seemed more curious about the bedroom than the massage room.
Uh-oh. It’s a good thing David was home and he said, “That guy wasn't interested in a therapeutic massage, he wanted the other kind.”
Oh boy, I’m a " professional" now. Well, not really but apparently some people who are reading my sign think so.
jona@greenwolfconsulting.com
No comments:
Post a Comment