December 12 & 18, 1972
December 12
A week from hell? The kids are sick. My husband is sick. I’m the last man standing.
And then the refrigerator broke down. To even look at it the man wanted $125. Outrageous. We called the nephew of the owners of the cottage, and he told us we were responsible. Is it our refrigerator? No. So we rented a refrigerator for $65 for the rest of our time in Israel. The rest of the family is very nice, but this nephew is such a pain and he’s our contact. Why he was chosen, I have no idea.
On the bright side, we took the kids to the Safari Park in Ramat Gan. I was amazed. The first time I saw the park—before the animals—it was just being developed. That was in 1967 right after the Six Day War. There was nothing, no shade, just dust and some plantings. Now it’s lush with so many trees and flower beds. The animals aren’t in cages but allowed to roam free, while we walk along the rim and watch them. Or we tried. The kids enjoyed the playground more.
I think it’s good to keep the animals separated from your average Israeli, especially the children. They don’t have the experience to relate to and respect animals. One time I saw a small child throwing stones at an animal in an enclosure. I can’t remember what the animal was but I told the kid to stop. The child looked at me very strangely and after I left probably continued the stoning. I found it very disturbing.
Speaking of disturbing, four Israeli Jews were arrested for spying for Syria. Everyone was shocked because one of the Jews was a member of a kibbutz. A real Sabra hero.
I don’t usually report on the national news but something happens every hour, somewhere there’s the threat of infiltration or the odd shot being fired across the border. We watch where we go and are careful when we plan our trips. It’s a small country and still surrounded.
December 18
Abe, my husband was involved in a road rage incident. The damage light on our car, and I wasn’t with him when it happened. Needless to say, the rage wasn’t on Abe’s part, as he doesn’t do rage. But he said the other driver was like a madman. At least Abe got the guy’s license plate. I, of course, took American action and called the police. This caused more hilarity among our Israeli friends. The police weren’t concerned about dangerous driving, just what we wanted to do about an insurance claim. When I noted the problem wasn’t insurance but a crazy man on the road, the policeman told me to write it all down in a letter. Ah, the laughter this suggestion brought forth, as friends said the police would’t even open the letter for two years. At the earliest.
Israeli drivers are truly insane. I think it might be that private cars are just now a more common form of transportation. Most people are used to travel by public transport. But so many deaths are caused by stupidity and aggression. So much aggression. My brother-in-law’s sister was just standing in a medium waiting for the light to change when a car hit and killed her. Why? So if we die in Israel, it won’t be terrorists, it’ll be Israeli drivers.
Work continues in the Israeli style. They’ve now hired another woman—to use my typewriter. Yes, we’re both supposed to work on the same typewriter at the same time. Sigh.
Saturday we took the kids to Jerusalem, went to the Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock, plus other areas. It was interesting to walk through the marketplace. I have to say though that I don’t enjoy Jerusalem. Too many crazies. Tel Aviv is much more my style.