Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012, January 15, 2004, Page 6, Image 6

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Clockwise: Because many people pray at the Western Wall of the
Temple Mount in Jerusalem, the men and women are separated
out of respect for the Orthodox Jews, seen here in the black
hats. • Sun breaks through clouds onto the hills of Haifa. • The
Jewish quarter of the old city of Jerusalem is so ancient it is
possible to dig below to layers that date back to different eras of
civilization. Seen here is a staircase that descends from one of the
more modern levels to the ancient Roman street level below.
Jason McLean Freelance Photographer
1
TOURIST
continued from page 5
It was also exciting because we saw our chance to speak
at length with some young people, which was an incredi
ble opportunity for the cross-cultural exchange that many
of us felt had been noticeably absent. In addition to the
soldiers (who were actually serving in the air force rather
then the more common army service), we would also
travel with two students who were taking a sociology
class on American/Israeli relations. Of all the sights I saw
and the people I met, my time with these Israelis was the
most revealing.
PART 2 OF 2
Last week: The perceived danger of
traveling in Israel and its cultural impact
on an American traveler
Today: A look at the Israeli perspective
of America
REPORTER’S
NOTEBOOK
Throughout the
trip I had been
mortified by my
complete lack of
fluency in He
brew, the national
language. The
prospect of com
ing across as the
stereotype of just another stupid American tourist, speak
ing loud English and frantically waving my arms to com
municate, was quite frankly horrifying. These were the kind
of Americans I detested most, and yet there I was, com
pletely unable to speak any Hebrew.
I apologized often, which
mostly seemed to confuse the Is
raelis, who more often than not
spoke perfect English with thick,
exotic accents. All Israelis com
monly take English beginning in
elementary school.
Eventually, my Hebrew progressed to the point where I
could say "Excuse me," "Thank you," "Thank you very
much," "What is this?," "How are you doing?," "Good
morning," "OK," "Wow," and "Excellent." "Excuse me"
was perhaps the most useful phrase, and "What is this?"
was handy for unknown foods.
I discovered, however, that my speaking English was not
insulting for the Israelis, but on the contrary, very welcome.
The country's economy depends heavily upon the tourist
industry, and the current political turmoil has not been
good for attracting tourists. To shopkeepers and Israelis,
the sound of Americans or other foreign languages means
that business might be looking up.
Most of my everyday interactions prompted these ob
servations, but when I found myself sharing a seat next to
an Israeli sociology student in her late 20s during a long
ride from a natural hot springs spa on the border with
Jordan to our hotel in Haifa, I decided to pull out the big
guns and ask the tough questions.
How did she feel about Americans? How did she feel
about President Bush? What did she hope for the future,
and how did she feel about Arabs? Her responses were sur
prising and sometimes ambiguous.
She told me that she perceived Americans as some
times arrogant but more than anything as emotional —
far more emotional than Israelis. Her words implicated
something simpler than she intended and noted our easy
ability to become inflamed as a nation, but also the way
we interacted on a person-to-person level. She said when
we believed in something, whether it was politics or love,
we had a passion that she did not see in the people of her
country. She called it "something in the eyes that looked
for a connection."
She confirmed what I had heard other Israelis say about
Bush: They could say nothing negative about his politics
toward their country and felt he had supported them in a
time of need. However, she said they didn't think much of
him personally and that most people she knew thought of
him as quick-tempered, irrational and unintelligent. Then,
with in a glimmer in her eye, she looked straight at me and
said, "Besides, Clinton was so much more fun."
As far as the conflict between the Palestinians and the
Israelis, she found it frustrating. As she spoke, I could tell
she was struggling to find the words to explain her posi
tion. She, like the rest of the country, was in emotional
knots, and she described a social pressure to simply de
monize the Palestinians and, which conflicted with her
rational intuition that says the conflict is more an issue
of communication.
I asked if she would be friends with someone who was
an Arab — there are, in fact, many Arabs who live within
Israel; there the term refers to any non-Jewish, non-Christ
ian resident — and she began telling a story.
She told me of an Arab girl in her class who had
worked with her on a project. They became acquaintanc
es, but they had never done anything outside of class. I
asked her why, and she said the other girl had never asked
her to do anything.
I asked if she has considered making the first move to
ward friendship. She told me that she could never do
such a thing and that her parents would never allow it.
However, she also would never lead her own children to
believe they could befriend non-Jews or teach them to
hate. Things are not simple, she said — they are not black
and white, as the older generation would have us believe.
It may be a long time before those ideas fade — maybe
another two or three generations — but in the end, she
told me, we will change.
Steven Neuman is a freelance reporter for the Emerald.