Soccer Dad

Taken for a ride - my only in israel story

West Bank Mama wanted "Only in Israel" stories. She didn't require that they not have been previously published. Here's mine.

Published in the May 2003 issue of Where, What and When

Since returning from my family’s recent trip to Israel, I’ve been asked (in different forms) is “What’s different about Israel?” In other words given the current situation (or “matzav” in Hebrew), how has Israel responded.

The most obvious change is the ubiquity of security guards. They are more commonplace than I recall. And stricter, too.

One night I entered a store and was questioned in extremely fast fashion. I missed the question. I didn’t get the question until I heard “ekdach” (pistol in Hebrew), and answered negatively. Subsequent encounters with security guards made it clear that I was probably being asked “Yesh lecha neshek?” (“Do you have a weapon?”)

Another possible sign of the situation is the attitude of cabbies. Cab drivers often offer clues as to the atmosphere in their country of residence.

It’s true that I’ve never used taxis the way I used them in this visit, so I have no basis of comparison. Still I can speak for the attitudes of taxi drivers in April 2003.

Maybe it’s the dearth of tourists. Maybe it’s a simple realization that it is more effective have a customer than simply having a succession of one-time fares. Cab drivers now seem intent on cultivating a clientele. Most are quite friendly too.

Many cab drivers had business cards and others, even if they didn’t, would ask that we call them in case we needed another ride.

My first driver was Yaakov, the son of Moroccan immigrants; a friendly driver who took me from Bet Shemesh to the airport to pick up my rental car.

After discussing Yaakov’s past – he previously had worked for the JNF ( or KKL) and helped develop properties into parks – we started talking current events.

Since, during the previous week, Baghdad fell to American forces we talked a bit about that. He surprised me, for when I mentioned that the pulling down of Saddam’s statue reminded me of the fall of Ceausescu in Romania, he told me that he visited Romania with some friends a few years ago. But he told me that Ceausescu was succeeded not by democracy but by a mafia.

He also offered his thoughts on Iraq. He thought that there would be an improvement in Iraq for Israel but that Arabs were incapable of democracy as we know it.

Before I left the cab, he offered to wait until I had rented the car so I could follow him back to Bet Shemesh. I told him that it wasn’t necessary. (Despite my misgivings, I had no difficulty finding my way back to Bet Shemesh.) He also asked me to consider using his services in the future and handed me a business card.

Yaakov’s initiative paid off quickly. While at the rental agency I discovered that I didn’t have my passport. The agency kindly informed me that without my passport they couldn’t rent the car. So I called Anne and asked her to come with my passport. I suggested that she call Yaakov. (I had a little delay before renting.) He had returned to Bet Shemesh by the time I talked to Anne and he drove her to the airport.

Bet Shemesh is the home to Monit Bet Shemesh (Bet Shemesh Taxi). This fleet of red and white minivans seems to have an impressive operation. The cabs mostly run between Yerushalayim and Bet Shemesh.

In Yerushalayim, they are based right near the bus station. The cost of a trip to Bet Shemesh is lower than that of the bus. And you don’t have to wait for a bus; just for a cab to fill. That happens on a regular basis.

In Bet Shemesh they are a phone call away. Or if you’re waiting for a bus, one of these taxis is likely to be scouting the bus stops before the next scheduled bus arrives.

On our final Friday morning in Israel Anne and I, and our two daughters were headed into Yerushalayim and that’s exactly where a driver found us – waiting for a bus. We said we’d be willing to go as a sherut (shared taxi – cheaper but would take a little longer) and got in.

As our driver drove through Bet Shemesh trying to fill his cab with other riders to Yerushalayim, he made a few stops. At one another man approached the driver’s window with two big shopping bags. The man and the driver had a spirited discussion. Judging by his response, our driver lost the argument. The man handed him the bags, and our ride continued.

A short while later we saw another Monit Bet Shemesh heading toward us. The cabs approached and stopped. Our driver opened the window and handed the other driver a small bag from one of the shopping bags. This happened another time or two before we left Bet Shemesh and we were curious. We asked the driver what was going on and he simply informed us that it was Friday, seemingly unwilling to volunteer any more details.

Later I got the courage to probe a bit. “Are those challahs?” I ventured. “Sandwiches,” he replied. And we didn’t discuss the matter further.

The Friday sandwiches remained a mystery for another few days until our trip home.

During her annual stays in Israel, my mother has become friendly with Mr. Alfasi, a driver of a Monit Bet Shemesh. Given the need of getting 15 Gerstmans to the airport to go back to America, my mother hired him to take us.

There’s a reason Mr. Alfasi gets along with my mother. He is quite friendly and very helpful. I decided to take advantage of his good nature and asked him in my best Hebrew, “What’s the story of sandwiches on Friday?”

Mr. Alfasi laughed and told us that there was Yemenite woman who had two sons working for the company. Every Friday she made sandwiches filled with Yemenite delicacies for all the drivers. “Charif (very spicy)”, Mr. Alfasi added. The woman’s kindness didn’t go unappreciated, every holiday the drivers got together and got her a gift.

Maybe the friendliness isn’t just a ploy; maybe driving a cab draws in genuinely friendly people. Overall I found cabdrivers to be an unexpected pleasure during my time in Israel.

Technorati tags: Only in Israel.

Posted by SoccerDad at November 16, 2006 7:34 PM | TrackBack