I was walking in downtown Jerusalem. At an intersection, I waited for the little red figure to turn green. When it did, I crossed to the middle of the street, beyond which the next little figure was already green. As soon as I stepped into the crosswalk, that figure turned red. It took just five paces for me to reach the opposite sidewalk, onto which I turned.

A car pulled up alongside. A slim young woman with religious headgear opened the window, shook her fist, and gave me a piece of her mind. She seemed less worried about my safety than annoyed at having her jackrabbit start delayed by a microsecond.

Although many words in Hebrew slang are Arabic, one of them, Dugri, is Turkish. Israelis use this to mean “blunt,” “straight from the shoulder.” Many Israelis like to talk Dugri. They want you to know just what they think: about things, about life, about you. They consider this “honesty.”  Others, raised elsewhere otherwise, may call it something else.

The houseware shops on HaPalmach are small and crammed with merchandise. I bought a lithium battery, then turned to leave. An old woman leaning on a cane stood in the doorway facing out, but made no move to exit. I walked up behind her and waited. At length I leaned over and said, “Slicha, Excuse me.”

She took a few steps, then turned to me as I came out, her face dark with fury. “It’s your problem,” she barked. “Just push, and........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)