When I feel like a break from dodging the various motorized contraptions that rule Tel Aviv’s sidewalks (see earlier post), or if it rains, the bus can be a life-saver. We are lucky to be living in the centre of town, so there are lots of bus lines at our disposal. You can pay cash…(5.9 shekels…about C$2.30) or you can get a “RAVCAV” card and load it with money, which saves you from carrying change, getting transfers etc. It is very useful of course…but the important thing is that it makes me feel like I actually belong in this town. This is a charming fiction that lasts as long as no one asks me anything in Hebrew, (at which point I freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. This happens with alarming frequency.) The card even has my picture and my name transliterated into Hebrew.לילי שיין , in case you ever wanted to know. (You can probably spot the Lili part!)
By the way…to my surprise…a lot of people in Israel are called “Lili”. I found this out when I went to Aroma where they call out your name when your order is ready. In the 15 minutes I sat there, I heard “my name” called at least three times. I barely stopped myself from getting up.
Back to the bus, getting the RAVCAV card, like most things in Israel, in a “process”. You can buy an “anonymous” card right on the bus for 5 shekels, but if you think you might be eligible for a discount, you must go to an official office, where your ability to wait…patiently… for attention, will get you one for free, and where you will also get a fare discount if you are eligible. Since I am the proud holder of an A4 visa (issued to spouses of students or clergymen…hmmm), I thought I would try for the personalized card and so set off to the office for an interview, with all my official documents in hand.
Before going, I practiced what I would say in Hebrew. As some of you might know I have a reasonable grasp of Hebrew grammar; unfortunately this does not mean I can actually SAY anything, much less understand the average Israeli. So usually one of two things happen when I am in a store: either I do manage to say what I have carefully rehearsed at home, at which point a torrent of Hebrew greets me; or I don’t even get to what I have to say, and a torrent of Hebrew greets me. After some time, the person who is talking to me takes note of my panicked expression, at which point it dawns on them that I don’t have a clue what they are saying. From there, we determine if English or French is a possibility, and if not, some combination of fractured Hebrew on my part, and goodwill on theirs, usually leads to the desired outcome.
So I now have a RavCav with a 25% discount, which works more like a bonus. When I load my card with shekels, by paying the bus driver, (a rare example of the “grumpy Israeli” stereotype), I am credited with 25% more; so 100 shekels gives me 125. I am not really sure why I get a discount, but I suspect it may be due to my advanced years.
Since buses do not make for good photos, I also attach a picture of the tallest Lego tower in the world, erected just yesterday in Rabin Square. After all…why not?
