There’s this thing I’ve heard once or twice that you’re not supposed to complain about Israel, it being the gift to our people from Gd and everything. Word on the street is you may even sacrifice your chance to be here if you’ve got beef and advertise it. Well, today I’m willing to risk it because this country is ticking me off, big-time. Well, maybe I should rephrase. The country itself is not bad; it’s actually quite beautiful when you look past the collective bad attitude of its residents and the ridiculous policies that make everything, from transportation to picking up a package, a complete balagan. But eventually, one comes to think of a way of life as inherent to the country.

Allow me to illustrate. Yesterday I got on the bus and waited to hand the driver my card. I was standing within the door frame and could not move forward until the girl in front of me moved on. The driver decided to re-open the door, which caught my arm and gave me a good, painful jostle. When I looked at him incredulously — of course he knew I was there — he started snapping at me as if it was my fault. This, by the way, is a typical Israeli attitude: it’s always YOUR fault. I lost it on him. “I can’t move!” I yelled at him. “And I’m pregnant!”. I refrained from using a few choice names, but only because I didn’t know them in Hebrew.

Today, I went to pick up a package from my brother Josh, which apparently could only be held in one central location far, far away. Not the biggest deal, but I’m not quite sure why they couldn’t hold it at our local post office. So I arrived at this huge warehouse in Givat Shaul and was pleasantly given my package. That is, after I paid a delightful 300-shekel tax, of course. Not even the sight of my brother’s familiar left-handed scrawl or Katherine’s fantastic wrapping paper could cheer me up after that one.

I know individually these little incidents don’t seem like much, but they pile up. So, while I’m grateful that Israel is open and available to everyone who wants to risk it, today is just one of those days where I wish I’d passed.