Rose Art Crayons

It's hard to explain what life is like over here. I've written before about the conflict, the separation wall, the many different people with many different perspectives all trying to live together in such a small geographical space. But it is still challenging to get across some of the little things that make life in Israel/Palestine so different from life in the U.S.

I was pondering these things this weekend as I took a much needed trip to Tel Aviv to recharge and relax after such a stressful month in Jerusalem. These two cities, though both in Israel proper, are radically different from one another. Going to Tel Aviv is like experiencing reverse culture-shock: it's like a mini-vacation back home to the states, where culturally things make sense again and life seems to run as normal. No random, hastily set-up checkpoints in neighborhoods, no newly installed metal detectors on the street, no groupings of soldiers carrying M-16s at every bus stop. It's a whole different world.

If I had to describe my life here in these last 4 months, I would say that it has been a lot like coloring a picture with Rose Art brand crayons, instead of Crayola. They still get the job done, color is still smeared onto the page, the blank spaces are filled in - but it looks waxier and paler than it should be. And the experience just doesn't feel as smooth as it does with a box of good ol' Crayolas.

Going to Tel Aviv is like being gifted a box of new Crayola crayons: everything just feels so much easier, like how it should be. I'd been coloring with Rose Art for so long now, I had almost forgotten that Canary Yellow could be so bright, that Tickle Me Pink could be so dazzling.

My poor hosts for the weekend must have thought country had come to town:

"Wait, you mean you actually flush your toilet paper? In the toilet?"

(In Jerusalem the pipes are too old to handle paper, you have to throw it in the trashcan instead.)

"Where's the hot water button for your shower? What do you mean you have a timer for that?"

(Most houses require you to flip a switch to turn the boiler on, 20-30mins before you plan on taking a shower or doing anything that requires hot water. The people I stayed with in Tel Aviv had a timer set on their boiler that ensured hot water during normal shower times.)

"Whoa! You have a bath tub! I haven't seen one of those in so long!"
(My shower is a drain in the middle of my bathroom floor.)

"It's Friday night. How am I going to find a place for dinner? Oh. So, anywhere then?"
(In Jerusalem, almost everything shuts down for Shabbat, which runs from Friday afternoon through Saturday evening. If you want to go out to eat on a Friday night, you better chose a restaurant owned by Palestinians. In TLV, Shabbat doesn't have as much sway. Restaurants and stores are still open, and even buses still run throughout the city.)

"I CAN GET CHEESE ON MY BURGER?!"
(Almost every restaurant in Jerusalem is Kosher certified, which means they can't mix dairy and meat products together. Which means no cheeseburgers, ever. Not an issue in TLV, apparently.)

These are such small things, and yet they add up fast. Everyone I spoke to in Tel Aviv knew English, most of them fluently. Every restaurant I entered had a menu in English, every convenience store clerk could hold a conversation. People dressed in clothes you would see on the streets of any big city - there was no fear of turning a street corner and suddenly finding myself surrounded by women in skirts and long sleeves with their hair covered, men dressed in knee-length black coats and top hats, unable to look me in the eyes because their religion forbids it (this is the case in many Ultra-Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods).

I felt comfortable, I felt happy, I felt at ease. It made me want to move there, especially since I would then be so close to a dance community that has already taken me under its wing and made me feel so at home. But then I remembered that I didn't come to Israel/Palestine to enjoy coloring with Crayola crayons. I came to experience life with a box of Rose Art - to not just hear about Palestinian's lives here, but to live the way that they live. Or as close as I can get, with my white skin and American passport that grant me automatic privilege wherever I go.

I wanted to experience the frustration of trying to color within the lines when the only tools one has are sub-par: blunt, waxy, cheap. I wanted to experience the dissonance that comes from living in between a developed country, and one that is trying to develop. I wanted to experience being that kid in class who knows their picture could be just as pretty and neat as Susie's, if only their mom had been able to afford the 120ct. Crayola bonus pack with colors like Vivid Tangerine and Sunset Orange.

But mostly, I wanted to learn how, even with limited resources and crappy Rose Art crayons, one can still make something beautiful and worth putting on the fridge.