Misrad HaKlita
One of the most exciting parts about Aliyah (besides living in the holy land, land of your ancestors, blah blah blah) is the bundle of benefits you get as a new Olim. In an effort to help you out after you've plunked your junk-food loving American butt in the land of milk and honey, the Israeli government gives you some financial assistance. Don't get me wrong I absolutely love my Nefesh B'Nefesh hat and water bottle holder, but they're not going to buy my groceries, so I'm pretty keen to dig into my financial basket. Unfortunately just pledging your undying love for Israel isn't enough to earn you this sweet bundle of goodies. No, like all good clubs you have to go through hazing before you're allowed to join, hazing more commonly known here as Israeli bureaucracy.
I made an appointment with the Misrad HaKlita (aka the Ministry of Absorption) and jostled my work schedule around accordingly. My appointment was on a Thursday morning and Tair was going to be working the night shift so he was going to come with me in case I needed a translator. Unfortunately that plan fell through when he had a last minute change to his schedule. That's okay though, I'm Laura, and if everyone else can handle this by themselves then gosh darn it so can I!
WRONG.
I should have realized sometime in the 15 minutes I spent wandering around the small shopping center just looking for a sign to direct me to the ministry, walking into a different ministry, wandering around an nearly vacant basement level, and finally following some very sketchy directions to the right office, that I was in over my head. At the very least I should've realized something was amiss when the man at the door didn't speak English. After a small struggle to half explain half mime that I had an appointment the man with the lists of appointments tells me I need to go to room stem-esre, which means twelve, definitely twelve, he wrote it down on the paper to show me it said 12.
So I was off to a rough start but I wasn't worried, the guy at the door had lists, he knew what was going on. There were two people waiting before me so I chatted with another new immigrant from Australia while we waited for the the gentleman before us to finish with his appointment. Then the lady working for immigration left her office, presumably for her lunch break because we didn't see her again for almost an hour. Finally she came back and processed all the paperwork for my new Australian friend. I checked the time, 12:30, my appointment was for 11:00, well I thought, I won't make it to the post office but at least I'll have this part done.
"Who's next?" the lady asks
"Me" I say
"You, but you're not-"
She walks away. Odd.
She comes back and I expect her to tell me to come in and process my paperwork, to my surprise she asks the girl who arrived after me to come in to the office. I'm perplexed but being the ever polite small town American I wait nicely for my turn. After working with yet another woman she finally invites me in to the office. She asks for my Teudat Oleh (new immigrant ID). Confused I explain that I'm here to get my Teudat Oleh. No, apparently this isn't the right room.
She tells me to follow her without explaining anything further. She takes me out to the reception area where she proceeds to yell loudly in Hebrew at the guy at the front door, then talk to the lady at the reception desk. The lady at the reception tries to explain the situation but also doesn't speak English. From the bits of Hebrew that I understand I gather that the lady that I was supposed to see has left for the day. She says I'll have to reschedule. At this point I can feel the frustrated tears start to burn at the corners of my eyes. This is the ministry of absorption and nobody speaks English! But it's not their fault and despite the confusion they all seem like very nice people so I stow my frustration and continue my mime-Hebrew-English-note-passing ritual with the reception lady. Finally after another 10 minutes and various interjections of English words by the door man we set up an appointment for the exact same time next week and I prepare myself for Misrad HaKlita, round two.
(New Olim Tip: Avoid my frustration; either bring a friendly Israeli, or don't be afraid to look stupid. I'm not going to say they won't think you're an idiot, they might, in fact they probably will. Many people outside the US thing Americans are stupid anyway so just play the stereotype and smile a lot. Chances are if you're not sure what's going on you'll do something dumb (like sit outside the wrong room for hours) anyway. If you ask a lot of questions and keep double checking your information you'll (hopefully) never see these people again ;)
I made an appointment with the Misrad HaKlita (aka the Ministry of Absorption) and jostled my work schedule around accordingly. My appointment was on a Thursday morning and Tair was going to be working the night shift so he was going to come with me in case I needed a translator. Unfortunately that plan fell through when he had a last minute change to his schedule. That's okay though, I'm Laura, and if everyone else can handle this by themselves then gosh darn it so can I!
WRONG.
I should have realized sometime in the 15 minutes I spent wandering around the small shopping center just looking for a sign to direct me to the ministry, walking into a different ministry, wandering around an nearly vacant basement level, and finally following some very sketchy directions to the right office, that I was in over my head. At the very least I should've realized something was amiss when the man at the door didn't speak English. After a small struggle to half explain half mime that I had an appointment the man with the lists of appointments tells me I need to go to room stem-esre, which means twelve, definitely twelve, he wrote it down on the paper to show me it said 12.
So I was off to a rough start but I wasn't worried, the guy at the door had lists, he knew what was going on. There were two people waiting before me so I chatted with another new immigrant from Australia while we waited for the the gentleman before us to finish with his appointment. Then the lady working for immigration left her office, presumably for her lunch break because we didn't see her again for almost an hour. Finally she came back and processed all the paperwork for my new Australian friend. I checked the time, 12:30, my appointment was for 11:00, well I thought, I won't make it to the post office but at least I'll have this part done.
"Who's next?" the lady asks
"Me" I say
"You, but you're not-"
She walks away. Odd.
She comes back and I expect her to tell me to come in and process my paperwork, to my surprise she asks the girl who arrived after me to come in to the office. I'm perplexed but being the ever polite small town American I wait nicely for my turn. After working with yet another woman she finally invites me in to the office. She asks for my Teudat Oleh (new immigrant ID). Confused I explain that I'm here to get my Teudat Oleh. No, apparently this isn't the right room.
She tells me to follow her without explaining anything further. She takes me out to the reception area where she proceeds to yell loudly in Hebrew at the guy at the front door, then talk to the lady at the reception desk. The lady at the reception tries to explain the situation but also doesn't speak English. From the bits of Hebrew that I understand I gather that the lady that I was supposed to see has left for the day. She says I'll have to reschedule. At this point I can feel the frustrated tears start to burn at the corners of my eyes. This is the ministry of absorption and nobody speaks English! But it's not their fault and despite the confusion they all seem like very nice people so I stow my frustration and continue my mime-Hebrew-English-note-passing ritual with the reception lady. Finally after another 10 minutes and various interjections of English words by the door man we set up an appointment for the exact same time next week and I prepare myself for Misrad HaKlita, round two.
(New Olim Tip: Avoid my frustration; either bring a friendly Israeli, or don't be afraid to look stupid. I'm not going to say they won't think you're an idiot, they might, in fact they probably will. Many people outside the US thing Americans are stupid anyway so just play the stereotype and smile a lot. Chances are if you're not sure what's going on you'll do something dumb (like sit outside the wrong room for hours) anyway. If you ask a lot of questions and keep double checking your information you'll (hopefully) never see these people again ;)
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