I arrived to meet Hunter and Tal for a coffee after leaving the post office. I ordered a Mint Lemonade and was treated to the most delicious thing in the world. It was equal parts refreshing and sweet. I could have drank a gallon of the stuff!

Tal (yes, another Tal) was born in Israel, with a father who is South African and a mother who is a New Zealander. As a result Tal has a funny combination of accents – a mix of pretty much all of the Anglo accents. Tal was nice, talkative and easy to open up to. As an Israeli who has spent parts of her life outside of Israel, she was no stranger to its idiosyncrasies and the frustrations of daily life. She said that every time she returns from the US, New Zealand or England, she is always taken aback by the lack of social protocol found here in Israel. Hunter and I had to laugh along with her – we had certainly found the same thing to be true.

At the market, old women will roll over your foot with their heavy cart in order to squeeze past you and grab a tomato. People of all ages will just take almonds, candies and occasional grapes out of the containers at the stores, sampling the goods before they decide to buy. At the bus stop there is no unwritten “you were here first,” and everyone waddles on the bus in a small herd, causing stubbed toes and crushed purses. The sidewalks are never wide enough, even if you are on a ten foot wide path. Someone will walk really close to you, or simply not avoid you – forcing you to change course because this person didn’t. These problems are exacerbated once you’re in a car – the traffic lanes are suggestions, and cutting someone off is not considered aggressive, it’s merely an element of being on the road. Why is this? Why do Israelis act so defiantly with their own interests in mind, ignoring the greater good and comfort of the strangers around them? I’d be interested to hear your thoughts. This element of the lifestyle is a reminder that although Israel is a first world nation, with a strong economy and modern lifestyle, we are certainly in the middle east. The rules of decorum and civility back home don’t apply here, or rather they are watered down into something completely different.

Slowly, but certainly surely, I have started to adjust to this change in attitude. At the market the other day I demanded a half scoop of olives, not the full scoop that the vendor originally handed me. “I can’t give you less,” he said, not too friendly. “I want half, is that not possible?” I asked, not backing down. He shrugged, “I need to give you a bag, not this container.” He acquiesced, I had won! I didn’t care that the olives were now sold to me in a ziplock instead of a thin plastic tupperware. I had followed the Israeli code of conduct – if a rule is unwritten, it doesn’t exist. Don’t ask for permission, demand it.