Note: This will begin a series of posts about love in the Holy Land. Today's post, "The Soldier" tomorrow's, "The Arse."
OHHHHHHHHHHH Israel. It is a land of history and conflict, extremes and polarization, love and hate. No where is this more evident than in the hearts of young American Jews that head off to the Holy Land at the behest of their overbearing mothers to gain a 'cultural' experience that ends up being a quest for some Israeli ass. While I cannot comment on the experiences of young American males lusting after the Israeli Jewess', I can reflect on the experience of courting an Israeli male between the ages of 18-24 (30 when drinking).
The Soldier (and Israel's Public Transportation System)
In case you didn't know, there is mandatory conscription in Israel, all citizens must go into the army at age 18 (that's right, both boys and girls). The guys stay in three years, sometimes more (if they are an officer, in an elite unite etc). They walk around in their army gear (green shirts and army pants) with their guns and combat boots. This is insanely attractive and inevitably leaves American women of all ages lusting after 18 year old boys. A feeling that invokes an uncomfortable mixture of guilt and regret in those that are just on the cusp of their mid-twenties and clearly to old to be pursuing young, muscled, tanned soldiers.
Being in Israel for six months after graduating from college at the ripe age of 23 clearly qualified me as over the hill when it came to the 18 year old soldiers. However, I managed to tell myself the consoling lie that puts all women on the track to cougar-ville; he looks much older and probably has an advanced level of emotional maturity being in the army and all (which probably wouldn't be that far from the truth - as where they see war, I am in fact an emotionally stunted child of divorce who watches The Bachelor for relationship advice).
These seemingly beautiful soldiers can often be seen riding the public buses dangerously careening between the Peugeot's and gaggles of Hasidim in the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv (the bus system really should come with army protection as Israeli drivers are worse than Jersey natives in stop and go traffic on the turnpike).
Crossing between the two cities is the real jackpot though. The greyhound style buses that travel to and fro J'lem and Tel Aviv, leaving about every fifteen minutes throughout the day, are filled with all sorts of passengers. There are the mothers with their hair bound up in head scarves, five children tugging on their long black skirts. There are the young American kids on year programs, gossiping endlessly about Yoni and Raheali. There are the old men who haven't showered in a while, who's waist length beards retain the crumbs from their last meal. And then there are the soldiers. All hot and sweaty from the Middle Eastern sun (okay I was there in winter and it was cold and rainy but I prefer to remember them as tanned and glistening).
Getting on the bus is in itself a feat. There is no real "line" or "que" if you will. Instead it is a free for all; a massive swarm of people who either don't know how to use deodorant or really need to upgrade to the prescription stuff. A survival of the fittest if you will. When traveling between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem one understands what prompted Darwin to figure out all that evolution stuff. Basically there is a HUGE mob around the bus stop and people push and pull hair in order to get on. I've seen small elderly women trampled and blind people pushed aside. No one cares though, they just kept on boarding that bus. Israel is quaint like that.
The one upside to this is the close proximity to the aforementioned soldiers the swarm and board experience provides. I like to consider it my time to get to know them. Of course I don't talk to them. Instead, I fight to get on the bus and snag a window seat. Once uncomfortably seated I do stare at each young military man that boards and hope that the cute ones will sit next to me. And that maybe, just maybe, we will make out if there is heavy traffic.
Alas, this has never happened. Only once did a male soldier sit next to me. He was tall with a crew cut. Clad in the typical green fatigues and certainly sweaty, one would think my dreams were coming true. As it turns out, close up this young feller was not quite as dreamy as I had hoped. Instead he was droopy faced and chubby. He also had some serious personal space issues. He didn't seem to understand that a shared two-seater is in fact made for two people. It appeared that he was under the impression that my seat was also for him. When we did inevitably hit heavy traffic there was no smooching, there was instead a steady snore and drool routine going on. His head lolling to the side, dangerously close to my face, he napped like Rip Van fucking Winkle.
There were a couple of short stops that threatened to force the spittle beads down onto my shoulder. A couple of times my elbow "accidentally" found its way into his side (I mean there was no where else to put it, he had of course monopolized the arm rest with his bear claw of an arm) and he begrudgingly turned his lolling head (and now full upper body) in the other direction. I swear other passengers shot me looks of sincere pity and compassion, something which has never before and never since happened to me in the entirety of my Israel experience.
Suffice it to say I never found love with a soldier or on the Israeli public transportation system.
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