Fast
forward to today and, what do you know? Practically outside my new
Jerusalem door is a post office with boxes right outside!| Rich's Chronicle Index | E-Mail Rich | Rich & Sara's Family Page |
The
Brownsteins in the Land of Israel
Chapter
3:
An
Address, Maybe?
July 30, 2003
First let me thank all of you who
have written in encouragement after my first two installments.
It has been wonderful hearing from all of you!
I promised last week to tell the
story of "The Washing Machine That Refused To Be Replaced!"
But, because so many people wanted to have an address, please indulge me
the following update.
Many of you have suggested that
life in Israel would be hard.
Those of you who know me well have suggested that I might not have the
disposition to deal with the "opportunities for growth" here.
Many have come right out and challenged my ability to have patience in
difficult situation. Don't worry,
though. I have been nothing but patient -- even in the face of a third
world post office.
When I first moved to L.A. in the
1920s, I go a mail box on Robertson Blvd. It
has proved to be a very good thing because each time I move, I don't sweat it.
That is why I wanted a box here.
Fast
forward to today and, what do you know? Practically outside my new
Jerusalem door is a post office with boxes right outside!
So
I try to go inside. But, instead I run into Doron, the guard. He is
really excited to see me because, of course, he lived in Encino for 10 years.
Doron loved to talk with me about Ventura Blvd. and the Oscars.
While all kinds of strange looking people with k'fias and big coats
saunter past, Doron wants to talk Lakers.
And,
as you know, nobody loves talking more about the Lakers than I do.
So
once I finally got past Kobe, I waited in line for a few minutes, catching the
tail end of a stink between a postal clerk and a young girl from Chicago.
She was livid because the clerk took from her 48 "shecks," as
she too hiply noted, for some medicine sent to her. She was yelling to them to get the manager. But Levy,
the main postal dude, has made a concerted effort to stay away from customers'
needs. The girl said that the
posted clerk suggested that she might be able to get the money back when she
left the country, but that nobody in the post office had any idea how.
This infuriated her even more: "They took my shecks and won't help
me get it back." I asked how much the medicine was worth. She said about
$60. I told her that Israel has an 18% VAT (Value Added Tax) ... on
everything! I pointed out that 18%
of $60 is about 48 "shecks." She left, mumbling something about
never declaring the drugs again.
Next
was my turn.
It
takes about 20 minutes to learn that no boxes are available. Come back (to
Meir) in a few days. A few days
later Meir (through the Guard) tells me that a box is available. It will cost about $15 until the end of 2003.
Great. Come back in a few days for the keys.
Just
to be sure, I mail myself a letter from the same post office.
It only takes three days to arrive. You figure it out.
Anyway. It works.
The
address is below, as are Batya and Yehuda, in the belly of a Kanga in the
Jerusalem Zoo.
By
the way, my wife, Sara, now is of the belief that our new Zoo here is the finest
in the world. It is really great (I
feel like Larry King). Complete with animals and everything.
Here
she is, just before going onto Noah's Ark.
Anyway,
thanks again for reading this far.
I appreciate and look forward to your comments and greetings.
Please
stay tuned for Chapter 4: The Washing Machine That Refused To Be Replaced!
All
the best,
The
Brownsteins
PO Box 8130
Jerusalem,
91081 ISRAEL
Phone:
011-972-2-6733-491
NOTE:
No non-kosher Animals were harmed in the photography of this reenactment.
All characters are purely fictional.
If you want to add someone to this list, or remove yourself, just e-mail
rich@brownsteins.net and let him know. Please
freely distribute to those with too much time on their hands
Copyright (c) - Rich Brownstein 2003
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