You and I are different in many ways. There's apparently one thing in common - we all want the perfect body. The question remaining, what prize are we willing to pay in order to accomplish that?
During my ten years of driving Ayalon highway I've ran into hundreds of commercial signs. Most of those big prints would usually carry a photo of a ‘sexy’ model, female or male. In the last couple of years, I think I've got so close to Bar Refaeli that I know each and every wrinkle in her body, if there are any. Those traffic jams.
Bar Refaeli on a typical Ayalon pose
Days passed by and like every Israeli driver, I try to avoid Ayalon highway as much as I can. I ran into this sign down on Alenby Street last week on my way to work; it brought some sort of relief to me. Although this might be a project of a radical feminist organization; I totally support it.
The poster states: Dying to look like her? The thin difference between life and death. The poster shows two pictures of young ladies, one is extremely thin anorexic and the other is a model on a beauty magazine. I usually prefer to avoid radical movements but I guess sometimes on social matters such as anorexia, radical change requires radical actions. I wouldn’t describe this poster as a pure radical one, but it surly shows a dramatic change in our mindset. I’m assuming this poster costs a lot of money, probably over five digits. But guess what? It promotes a superior cause!
The Poster on Alenby Street
I hope in the future, such messages could be transferred through commercial posters and not just a pure educational one - I’ve always wanted to amend Bar Refaeli’s poster with Meirav Michaeli. I totally believe she could promote ‘Fox’ better than any other woman could.
I owe this post to you young lady. Remember? We met around winter 2008 on platform number one in Tel Aviv's central train station.
She may not recall but I do. She was a woman of class, dressed very elegantly waiting for the train heading up north. As I did for my three year of under graduate studies in Haifa University, I was also waiting for that same train. I think there was an eye contact, something I admit I was seeking for. Those long train rides drove me nuts. I developed some sort of allergic reaction to long train phone calls and I always preferred a short intelligent conversation with one of the passengers. I might have looked for that eye contact due to her outstanding elegant look but gladly I found out later that there's so much more than just that.
Another habit I developed during those long rides was reading books. I was never a fan of book reading and today I almost forgot those times when reading in trains gave me a headache. The book I had that day was 'Once Upon a Country' by Sari Nusseibeh. Latter on I found out that the eye contact was because of that book.
I was sitting on a bench made out of stone and once the place next to me was vacant, she came right through and sat next to me. She didn't say anything but at that point I realized that the book caught her attention. I think there was another eye contact or two and then the train came in.
Going up the train is quiet a hassle in our civilized country. I'm always amazed by the interaction in Europe between the passenger getting on board and those getting off. There's a beautiful flow that is so rare in Israel. Anyways, I usually wait until all that mess fades out and then ride the train. I tried to act as a gentleman and let the lady go on but she stayed behind me and basically allowed me to proceed. I sat right next to the entry door and I was a bit disappointed when she passed me by. Two seconds after, she came back and sat right in front of me. I was starting to feel that conversation coming up.
As the train passed the last station of Tel Aviv (University) she looked at me and asked if she could take a look at my book. No foreplay. No introduction. No nothing. Of course I handed it to her with a smile, not saying a word. She smiled back after she read the back cover and handed the book back to me. Those minutes felt like it was forever. What am I suppose to do now? Put my iPod on? Wait for her to? what?
Gladly, she was a pretty talkative person. At first she said that the book sounds interesting. I offered her to have it but then she said there's Amazon so no worries. She then started asking me questions about my motivation reading the book. Let me just make this clear, once she started talking (In Hebrew) I realized she was Palestinian (Israeli). Somehow she didn't realize I was one too which basically gave that conversation a whole different direction. If she would have known I spoke Arabic, the conversation would have probably ended after 2 minutes. Instead, she was so curious about that Jewish young man reading Sari Nusseibeh's memories. I couldn't resist that fake scene and just kept on acting as if I was a young Jewish man studying in Haifa University and reading Sari Nusseibeh. I found myself convincing her that it's an ordinary act amongst Jews to read Palestinian politicians. That young lady was shining like she just won the lottery. How could I disappoint her? At a certain point I was pushing it too far.
Sari is considered a very liberal secular Palestinian. There are many Palestinians that literally hate him. I will save you from a book review but I find his point of view about the history of this land rather original. I told her that there are many Jews against the settlement, the discrimination and the lack of equality and on and on. I told her how I like the fact that Sari was in a Kibbutz as a volunteer - basically trying to stay away from controversial issues, I just didn't want to show too much of familiarity. I was afraid she would find out about my identity so I started asking her questions about her Life.
It is like she was waiting for me to ask. She told me that she graduated from Georgetown University in the States and that after she came back to her village up north she meet her husband, gave birth to two beautiful girls and been wanting to go back to the States to proceed with her graduate studies. She was acting like an ambassador to the Arab people. Telling that young man about the romantic life in the village and how talented and bright her daughters are. She didn't say much about her husband but she said that he is the main reason she is still in Israel. She talked a lot about her experience in the States and how she wants her daughters to have more opportunities than she did.
The train was almost at the Carmel station. I told her I have to get off and she reached out her hand to shake mine. With great pride she said she was honored to meet someone like me and she mumbled her name which I couldn't get right. I acted like I didn't hear her name so I won't have to give up my identity with my name. I said it is a great honor for me to meet her too in hope we will meet in the future. Very unusual to my common behavior I didn't pull a note and write my number. That conversation was just the peak and anything that I will do at this point would just ruin it.
Took that bus up the Carmel Mountains to the University wondering what would have happen if she knew I was just like her.
Posts
