Being blonde

It’s a funny thing, being blonde in a country where most people have dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin.  A friend of mine warned me before I moved to Israel that I would be very popular with the men here, purely because of the blonde hair/blue eyes/pale skin thing I’ve got going on.  That in itself is, I like to think, thanks to my Viking ancestors.  According to Wikipedia (so reliable…) ‘Brunskill has an Anglo-Saxon, Old Norse and Viking origin and is a topographical name for someone who lives at a brown-coloured stream or brown hill.’  I like to imagine that my ancestors were marauding Vikings whose blonde hair and blue eyes passed down through the generations to little old me.  Mind you, my Dad was a full-on ginger so something odd happened there (and that genetic code doesn’t bode well for any male children I may have).

Anyhow, that little diversion aside, I am blonde, blue-eyed, relatively tall for a girl and apparently I stick out like a sore thumb because I really do get a lot of male attention here.  I have been pondering this phenomenon of late and felt it worthy of a blog post, so here are some examples to illustrate my point:

• I get stared at basically everywhere I go and quite frequently am hit on by all kinds of men – religious Jews, Arabs, the guys in the shuk, any old guy on a bench downtown on a Thursday night.  Now, I’m not totally sure if that’s because of the blonde thing or because they see that I’m Western and therefore draw all kinds of conclusions that are based on the assumption that Western women are easy; either way, it makes life that little bit more interesting.  Last week I was walking through town quite late on Wednesday night and as I got closer to a bench where two men were sitting they turned to look at me then called out “Mashlomech?” (i.e. how you doing?)  I walked past and they continued shouting at me in Hebrew, presumably some kind of chat-up line that I don’t yet understand.  I really need to do ulpan and learn Hebrew properly.
• The men in the shuk love a blonde Western woman, which frequently works in my favour as I can flirt a little and get money off my shopping.  I know, I know, shameless…  Anyway, the other week I was shopping on a Sunday evening and went to my usual egg-seller (those of you who read my blog will recall that he is the guy I had my first real Hebrew conversation with).  He’s a fairly grumpy sort of man but I hadn’t been in a while so he seemed relatively pleased to see me.  He had been talking to some other guys, both wearing wife-beaters, one young guy with a huge tattoo and one old guy with a very impressive gut, and they both stared at me and smiled indulgently.  At that point one of the shuk cleaners showed up and shouted at me to get out of the way so he could sweep the pavement.  I stepped backwards, tripped over someone behind me and nearly fell over.  At that point the three guys all started yelling at the cleaner, who then started yelling back and there was much gesticulating and raised voices, as I stood there saying “Lo, lo, beseder, beseder” (“No, no, it’s OK”).  Eventually the yelling ended, I paid my 13 shekels for my dozen eggs and said goodbye, at which point they all smiled at me sweetly and again rather indulgently and said “Laila tov” in a protective manner.  Bless.
• Now, I’m not alone in this particular example, but every time I go to the Old City there’s a bunch of guys who hang out around Jaffa Gate and attempt to strike up some kind of conversation.  “Hello, how are you?”  “Hello, I like your earrings, where are they made?”  “Hello lady!”  My usual modus operandi is to avoid eye contact and keep walking, but I have to say that I admire their persistence and I’m starting to wonder what would happen if I went up to one of them and said “OK, let’s go.  Your place or mine?  Will your wife mind?”  My friend Tamar (also blonde) has lived in the Old City for ages, sees these guys every day and they still try it on continually.  Hope springs eternal...

It's tough being this attractive.

There are times when, frankly, it’s a bit annoying to be hassled all the time.  I was walking home up Jaffa Road last Saturday and it was pretty deserted (Shabbat turns Jerusalem into a ghost-town) except for the Ethiopians who are always about and a couple of Orthodox guys hanging around.  I walked past one young guy standing by a tram stop (not sure why, they don’t run on Saturdays) and he clearly saw me coming because by the time I drew level with him he was moving towards me and saying something in Hebrew.  Orthodox guys should never speak to a woman who isn’t in their own family, so the minute they start talking to you, you should run a mile.  Which I did.  The last Orthodox guy who started talking to me practically jumped me in the street outside my house so I have learned my lesson and just ignore any that try to talk to me.  Fending off that kind of attention becomes second-nature but it does sometimes bother me that I have to fend it off; being blonde and Western should not allow any man to assume that I’m easy.

That’s the negative side.  The positive side is that it is actually rather nice to be openly appreciated by men from time to time and Israeli guys are not shy about letting you know that they like you.  Provided you don’t let anyone take any undue liberties, it’s rather pleasant to be subject to such open admiration, certainly in comparison with men in the UK who generally don’t show their appreciation of you in such an open manner.  We’re all fearfully and wonderfully made by the Creator and the obsession of Western culture with being perfectly formed is refreshingly absent here – people really do appreciate you just as you are.  And as long as I keep getting free apples from the man in the stall in the Iraqi section of the shuk I shall continue to enjoy being a blonde among so many brunettes.