A Toast: To Attempting to Figure Out WTF to Do

I hung out with my cousin on Monday. She just got back from traveling in Asia and also had to visit some government offices to straighten things out. At the end of the day, we visited a little bar in the shuk (marketplace) we'd gone to together in October. It's called the 5th of May, a closet sized store with a couple of small tables inside and out and a nice cherry beer that I can actually stand to drink. I decided to go with a proper Israeli drink: Arak (or Ouzo or Anis or whatever it's called in your place of residence). I asked for it in a "chaser"- shotglass, idk why it's called a chaser, but ok- lifted my glass, toasted "to the Israeli bureaucracy", and tossed it back. I didn't do it, but I was in a mood to get smashed.

Allow me to start at the beginning -only of the day, don't worry:

I unexpectedly slept over at a friend's apartment Sunday night and needed to leave early Monday morning together with her roommates so that we wouldn't need to worry about keys. Fine. So I get into town around 8:00am and head to Sam's Bagels on Ben Yehuda, my place to go if I want more than coffee and pastries for breakfast, to wait for my cousin. Well, she got stuck in traffic on her way into Jerusalem and I can linger over my coffee for only so long, so I went to develop some photos I'll be making into cards. She arrived and we headed to the office of Bituach Leumi-the National Insurance Institute, basically the Israeli Social Security office.

Now, for those of you who don't know, if you need to go to a bank or government office, if you show up after 12noon, you won't be able to get in 9 times out of 10. That's just how it is over here.

So we get to Bituach Leumi at about 9am and they're closed. WTF. Turns out they have afternoon hours on Mondays. From 3pm-5pm. Fine. So we decide to wander around and run some errands we needed/wanted to do. Among those things was going to the bank. We went to my bank, I took a number and then a seat, waited my turn- inasmuch as one waits for a turn in Israel- and sat down with a personal banking rep. Four things I needed to do, I even wrote them down:

*change my bank branch to a more accessible location,

*make sure that my account is no longer locked (I had it in a 6 month locked account, like a certificate of deposit),

*change my address in the system (I don't need important bank info going to NY if I'm not there!), and

*order a new bank card.

Great. I start to tell the woman what I need to do. "No problem" she tells me. Beware of this phrase! When an Israeli tells you "no problem"- expect problems!! Branch transfer- really was no problem: click click, ok your account information is being transferred, it should only take about 2 days. Locked account? no, no I can see it's ok, you have X shekels. Scrreeech!! Hard brakes! How much???? the number she told me was 1/3 of how much I knew I had in the bank! Well, ehhhh, until your account is fully transferred, I can only see so much... Ok. Fine. I'll verify the amount when it finishes transferring, address change? "Don't worry" (that's another one to watch out for, so now I'm more than a little anxious) we'll do it after this is your branch, no problem. New card? same thing. Well, hell.

Walked around, walked around, walked around... got some craft supplies I needed, got some

earrings, walked around some more... met two of my cousins' wives for a light lunch at a great place on the corner of King George and Hillel- that's apparently been there forever and used to be a salon style place for politicians, then headed to Bituach Leumi.

Again, I took a number and then a seat, and waited for my turn. When it finally came, I go to the lady, I say I'm an Ezrachit Olah (a citizen born abroad who moved to Israel) and that I came because they told me I needed to register before I could sign up for the health plan of my choice. Ok, here's a form you need to fill out. But this says it's for a Toshav Chozer (returning resident), that's not my status... Same thing. Um, ok, do you have one in English? No. Um... ok... So I start filling the form out- address, identity number, etc. I turn the page (4 pages in all) and the questions seem to be asking about my business and if I sold all my property... I'm not sure I understand what it's saying so I ask my cousin to help me. She doesn't think it's the right form either and we stand up to tell the lady. So she finishes with the man she's speaking to- I hesitate to say "helping"- at the moment and looked me up in the computer.

According to the computer system at Bituach Leumi, I lived in Israel from 1992-2006.

Allow me to assure you, faithful-ish reader, I was most definitely in America during my formative years. I mean, just ask me how many pairs of shoes I own, I think that's a pretty strong indicator.

So I took the papers and my shocked self out of there, ranting and raving like the proper Israeli I'm becoming and we set off to find somewhere I could get a strong drink.

So raise your glass of arak and toast the runaround, headache, angst, and all the other "good" stuff that comes with making aliyah.