Did you smell anything last Thursday night, my loyal readers? Love was in the air! Either that or some bad shakshuka. My roommate got married and I was of course in attendance. If you’ve never been to an Israeli wedding before, stop what you’re doing and read the Idiot’s Guide to Israeli Weddings. Or if not, could I at least interest you in this????
Raise your hand if you just got Rickrolled. Or as we say in Hebrew, m’rukral. Rick Astley in hufal.
So I’m at the wedding, attempting to find the drop-box for the money envelope. What’s the etiquette for the envelope, by the way? It’s not like I ever bring a Hallmark card with me. (Can you even imagine an Israeli Hallmark card?
Cover: “You’ve been going through some hard times recently.”
Inside: “Ayn ma la’asot.” (What can you do?)
I spent a couple of minutes looking for the box before finding it inconspicuously located near the front door. At least I’m pretty sure it was the box. It’s not like it ever has a label or neon lights flashing from it. I swear, one of these days I’m going to unknowingly put the money into a trash can or something.
- Immediately after the chupah, they put on some kind of familiar music. After a minute, I identify it as “Down Under” by Aussie band Men at Work. Except instead of the lyrics, it’s something in Hebrew with “kallah”, “chatan”, and other Jewy words. In disbelief, I found an Australian acquaintance to confirm. But wait, there’s more…
“I come from a land down…..ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”
- True or false: during the dancing, the DJ plays “The Final Countdown” set to klezmer. If you get this wrong, then I guess you’re not Israeli.
- I sit down and introduce myself to the guy next to me. After about three tries, I finally figure out his name. It’s “Sergio” and, little do I know, he’s from Mexico. Except with his accent and authentic pronunciation, it comes out as SerCHio. I’m like “Sercher? Sercho??? Mah???” Leading to the eventual “OOOOOOOOOOOH, SERGIOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” (See “OHHHHHH, LUNCH BOX!“, “OHHHHHHHHHH, HAMBURGER!”, and more.) If somebody with a non-Anglo/non-Israeli accent’s going to introduce themselves with a non-Anglo/non-Israeli name, we really need a heads up.
- Someone at my table is an optometrist. Except that it’s a woman so she’s actually an optometreest-eet. (“I’ll take “optometreest-eet for $200.” Milah o lo milah?) So why isn’t a female ophthalmologist called an optolmologeest-eet? Oh. Because it’s rofa aynayim. Am I the only one who has to stop and think about which is the doctor and which is the glasses person? Because optometrist sure is a medical-sounding name. Psychologist. Psychiatrist. Optometrist. Shouldn’t they just be “glasses technicians”? How did they get such a big wordy name? From now on, I’m a bloggist.
Oh, Israeli weddings. How I love you.
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