Punning in Hebrish

One thing I've come to appreciate since moving here is that English has a life of its own as a second language. At first I thought it was weird to see, say, Serbian Eurovision announcers talking to each other in awkward English, but then I started to realize that there are many forms of English: American English, British English, and International English (including its Israeli form, Hebrish).  In some Israeli commercials, for example, you actually hear voice-overs in Israeli-accented English-- sure, they could have found someone with a flawless American accent, but they wanted Hebrish, not American English.

One of the most awesome and cringe-worthy aspects of Hebrish is the Israeli love for bad Hebrew-English puns. For example, a pizza shop down the street from us is called פיצה מן, which is a mild pun on "man" and "manna" (as in the bread that rained from the sky for the Israelites in Sinai). "Manna" in Hebrew is pronounced "mon." To any American, the vowel sound in "man" and "mon" are not the same (unless the pizza joint is rostafarian, mon). But Israelis don't hear the difference between these vowels, so... welcome to the world of Hebrish punning, where "dead pun" takes on a whole new meaning.

Here are a few other classic bad Hebrish puns... what would you add to the list?

 

1. The Grand Canyon... which is a mall near Haifa. "Kenyon" is the Hebrew word for "mall." What better name for a big mall than "Grand Canyon"? What... you don't think a majestic natural wonder and a shopping center have anything in common? Well... but... kenyon! Canyon! Get it?

 

2. Zer4U, a chain of Israeli florists. If you don't get this one right away, first consider the fact that "zer" means "bouquet" in Hebrew. Then say "zer 4 U" really slowly and imagine yourself speaking English with a thick Israeli accent... get it? Get it? I'm zer for you!

 

3. Cup O'Joe, an Israeli coffee shop chain. (Thanks to Toby for pointing this one out in the comments of my post about Israelis not being able to read their own language!) Ok, so this one really only works if you read the name in Hebrew as well. In the English version, you see that the name is "cup o'Joe," which obviously refers to a cup of coffee (Joe). But in Hebrew, the vowels and consonants are ambiguous, so the name just as easily reads as "cuppa joe" or "cafe joe"-- and the word for "coffee" in Hebrew is "cafe." See how that works? This is a little more sophisticated than Grand Kenyon or Zer4U, but still fabulous. 

 

4. Top Gan... an Israeli kindergarten. So the word for kindergarten (and garden) is "gan," and that old Tom Cruise movie was called "Top Gun," and in Hebrish "gan" and "gun" are the same sound....  hence this actual name for an Israeli daycare center. (That's not the actual picture-- it's what came up when I ran a google image search for "top gan." Based on its context, I'd say it's some kind of knock-off image from Indonesia.) Do you really want to imagine Tom Cruise giving you thumbs up as you drop little Itay off at gan? Does a Tom Cruise flight movie and a kindergarten have anything in common other than the word "gan"? No... but that never stopped Hebrew punsters! ("Top Gan" is also the name of a chain of garden stores: www.topgan.co.il.) 

Update: here's the real picture of the outside of the Gan, and though it isn't as pretty as a young Tom Cruise, it's about as creepy-looking:

Here's one that "anonymous" brought up in the comments, and it was too good to leave out...

5. Oh Magash, a chain of pizza shops. (Magash=pan of pizza.) Priceless! (For the record, I'm going to continue to believe that "Paz Gas" is not an intentional pun.... please don't tell me otherwise. That would just be too depressing. www.pazgas.co.il)

This phenomenon is so widespread that I'm sure there are examples I'm missing. Have you encountered any bad Hebrish puns?

How do you pronounce שופרסל?

In my last post, I posed a probing question that elicited riveting debate in the comments-- how do you pronounce the name of the grocery store chain found on these boxes of dried fruit? Take a closer look:

 

In case anyone reading this doesn't understand Hebrew, this is a tricky question in part because Hebrew is written without most vowels and some letters-- including two in this store's name-- can make more than one sound.  ש can make a "sh" sound or an "s" sound, and פ can make a "p" sound or a "f" sound, so this word's pronunciation comes down to this: sh/s--oo/oh--p/f--a/e/i/o/u/silent--r--a/e/i/o/u/silent--s--a/e/i/o/u/silent--l. Are we confused yet? 

But, see, Israelis all know how words are pronounced, so the system never fails. You just have to be in the know. Right?

So, let's narrow the answer down to the choices proposed by this blog's astute readers in the comments:

Supersell (which wouldn't be weird at all by Israeli standards, Bryan-- I mean, we have a mall known as the Grand Kenyon, in one of the worst English-Hebrew puns I know!)

Shufersal (means "quality basket," supposedly)

Supersal ("Super" makes sense because Israelis call any grocery store the "super"-- see this post about grocery shopping like an Israeli-- and "sal" still means "basket")

Supersol (no idea why "sol" would make sense)

One of the easiest ways to find the answer to this question is to try out all the likely URLs for the grocery store chain. The one that gets to the correct site is the right answer. Let's try it out:

www.supersell.co.il

www.supersal.co.il

www.supersol.co.il

www.shufersal.co.il

Oops. Except for "supersell," they all work.  

The answer to this trick question is that Israelis don't actually know how some of their words are pronounced. I most often hear people call this chain "supersal," but its name is technically "shufersal" and used to be "supersol." All those URLS redirect to this address, which expresses the brand confusion perfectly: http://www.shufersal.co.il/supersol_he/ 

In part, I suspect this name confusion lies in some kind of tax/anti-trust-lawsuit dodge: Who, us? But we're just a brand new chain, Shufersal. You must mean the old grocery story that used to try to drive all competitors out of the market, Supersol."Mark my words-- they'll be "Supersell" within a decade.

But the bottom line is that Israelis don't actually know how to say the name of this grocery store. In fact, you see Israelis mispronounce other words in fabulous ways too, especially when these words come from foreign languages. Anyone want to go bowel-ing with me? Then we can go get Whoffers at Boorger King! We can wash dishes in our Virlpool dishwasher! (And, as someone else in Benji Lovitt's hilarious Facebook feed pointed out, Israelis are still mourning the death of Parrah Paucett.)

So if you are struggling to read Hebrew without vowels, take heart: Israelis can't always read Hebrew either. :)

The Commercialization of Chanukah (Dreidel washing machine, anyone?)

Nah, this post isn't actually a rant about how commercialized Chanukah has become. In fact, I love Chanukah in Israel-- everyone gets together with family members, but gift-giving isn't the norm (although parents tend to give gelt money to their kids). Because Chanukah celebrates the burning of oil in a lamp for eight days, we eat all kinds of food fried in oil... mainly jelly donuts, or sufganiot.  Oh, and we don't light a "menorah"-- a "menorah" is what we keep on our bedside tables so that we can read books at night. (Menorah just means "lamp" in Hebrew.) The actual Hebrew word for menorah is "chanukiah"-- just so we're clear.

In other words, Chanukah in Israel is just what it should be: a celebration of light, oil, and family. (And the triumph of Judaism over assimilation. Nah, mostly just light, oil, and family.) Just as the four sons from the Hagaddah showed up in Passover advertising, so do ads around this time of year reference Chanukah.

An oleh named Jacob Richman does an amazing job of encouraging aliyah and gathering resources to help olim. For Chanukah, he collected a number of Israeli chanukah ads. Here are a few of my favorites:

Translation: "No matter how to turn it, this is the number one tuna in the world."

 

Translation: "The Mall of the Negev invites you to celebrate the holiday exactly like the Maccabis." (I'm honestly not sure what that means, but that's a wonderful picture of a sufganiah. Mmmmm.)

Washing machines and ovens in the shape of dreidels. 'Nuff said.

Ok, the thing I like about the one above is the punning. Up top, it says "A great miracle is happening here," which is a pun on what our dreidels say in Israel: "A great miracle happened here." (In the US, dreidels say "a great miracle happened there."  Ha. :)  The second line essentially says "Amazing sales for Chanukah at the Mashbir for the consumer" However, instead of "amazing," it actually uses the word "madlikim," which literally means "turn on" or "light up" and is slang for hot, super, great, cool. Get it? Get it? The Chanukah sale lights you up. 

Here's a clearer example of the same pun:

Translation: "Happy Chanukah at Auto Depot. An Amazing (madlikah) Present for those who buy more than 399 shekels..." I'll admit that sales are often referred to as "madlik" all year round, but I prefer to see this word choice as a pun at Chanukah.

Jacob Richman uploaded many more and provided translations of all of them, so definitely check out the full collection here.

After years of lip-service to Chanukah in the US (hey FarmVille, just because you call it a "holiday tree" doesn't mean it's part of my holiday), it's refreshing to actually see Chanukah reflected everywhere around me, from the Chanukiot glowing in the windows to the displays of chocolate money, jelly donuts and candles in the corner supermarket.

Chanukah Sameach!

How to Shrug like an Israeli (a Quick and Easy Guide to Nonverbal Hebrew)

Israelis are addicted to their cell phones, and despite this being illegal, love to talk on their cell phones while driving. This is especially terrifying because A) Israelis continue to drive like maniacs even while talking on their cell phones, and B) talking in Israel is a full body sport. I have actually seen Israelis take both hands off the wheel to gesture while driving and talking on their cell phones.

But if you want to talk like an Israeli, you'd better master the art of Israeli body language.

To assist me in this lesson, I'm going to draw examples from the PSA that a bunch of Israeli celebrities filmed to protest the 30% raise in insurance prices for scooter and motorcycle riders. My husband commutes by scooter, so he's been involved in these protests. Basically, our government is raising two-wheeled-vehicle insurance to rates higher than semi-trailer truck insurance, and many times the rates of two-wheeled-vehicle insurance in Europe. The government is delaying a decision on this insurance hike because they hope the organized movement to protest this hike will peter out. Let's hope it doesn't!

Here's the PSA (there's a little bit of crude humor in the middle, but if your Hebrew is like mine, you probably won't get that part anyway):



Now, let's break down the classic Israeli body language at play in this clip.

1. The Lip Shrug
 

Seen at 0:16 in the clip, the lip shrug involves pulling down the corners of the mouth and pushing up the lower lip in an exaggerated frown. Often accompanied by a slight shoulder shrug and the extension of one open hand, the lip shrug indicates, "Ani yodeah? Nu, who knows? I have no idea. Not my job. I am also slightly disgusted."

2. The Instructional Finger

 

Seen at 0:18, this gesture demonstrates the authority of one who DOES know. Commonly used by Polish grandparents alerting grandchildren to certain danger and drivers explaining to fellow drivers how to drive, this gesture indicates that the listener should sit up and pay rapt attention. To correctly execute the Instructional Finger, raise your hand so that your palm faces your intended target. Keep both your finger and your head erect. In one swift motion, accent a particularly cogent point with an emphatic head nod and finger point.

3. The "I Really Really Mean It" Forefinger-Thumb Touch

Seen at 0:26 (and again at 1:02, to accent the phrase "b'emet") this is perhaps the most crucial gesture for would-be Israelis to master. It indicates that what is being said is urgent, crucial, and true. To execute the "I Really Really Mean It" Forefinger-Thumb Touch, place your thumb and forefinger together, keeping your other fingers loose and your palm facing towards your body. Accent your words with a shake of your hand and your listener will understand you to be earnest and sincere (or at least really emphatic in your attempt to swindle).

Note: Combine this with the final gesture-- pointing your other three fingers up rather than to the side-- and this gesture means "Techake Li Rega! Wait a second!" and need not be accompanied by words.

4. The Cooperative Two-handed Beckon

 

This gesture is at a more advanced level, and should not be attempted until gestures 1-3 are mastered. To execute this gesture (common among salespeople who are putting all their cards on the table and giving you the sincere advice that you should purchase their most expensive model, because they like you), move into your intended target's personal space. Extend your arms to the side and back from your body, so that your wrists are even with your hips. Raise your chin and eyebrows, open your palms, and say, "Tish'ma achi, what an I say? You want your water to taste like plastic, buy the cheap kumkum!)

5. The "Nu, Zeh Barur, Lo?" Shrug

At first glance, this gesture might seem to resemble the Cooperative Two-Handed Beckon, but note the key differences. In the "Nu, Zeh Barur, Lo?" Shrug, the shoulders are raised, the chin is lowered (and turned slightly to the side), and hands are extended out beyond the body. This gesture also differs from the Lip Shrug in that rather than indicate that the shrugger does not know, this gesture indicates that what the shrugger is saying should be obvious to any sane person listening. In fact, what is being indicated is so obvious that you shouldn't speak while making this gesture, because nu, it's clear, no?

6. The Two-Handed Precision Gestures

This encompasses a whole range of precise, two-handed movements. Using two hands together at close proximity indicates that the reader must pay close attention to follow the complex point the gesturer is making. (In this case, the gesturer is indicating the one spot in Tel Aviv where, just maybe, between 6 and 8 in the morning, street parking is available.)

7. The "Zeh Oh Zeh" One-Handed Swipe

 

In another gesture that is executed without talking, this gesture involves a dismissive sweep of the hand from the center to the side. This gesture indicates that all worrying is over (that's it-- zeh oh zeh) and a situation has been taken care of. If the gesture's recipient still worries, click your tongue and make a patting gesture to the side. As a side note, the person in this picture looks eerily similar to our landlord.

8. The Emphatic Finger

 

This gesture-- seen in the clip at 1:28 and elsewhere-- might at first be confused with the Instructional Finger. Not so-- this is the Emphatic Finger, and the palm facing the body makes it completely different. Execute this gesture by leaning slightly forward, raising your eyebrows, and shaking your hand forward slightly with every word. Frequently accompanied by baffled outrage at the government, this gesture indicates not only that the speaker really, really means what he is about to say, but that he has a very important point to make. 

Now go and gesture like an Israeli! Which gestures are your favorites? Which ones do you actually use? Would you add any to the list?

Listen to David Broza!

A few weeks ago I went to my first concert where I knew most of the words to most of the songs performed... and no, I don't mean Madonna or Leonard Cohen. (I was probably one of the 47 or so people in Israel to not see either singer when they came to Israel recently!)

Instead, I saw David Broza, an Israeli/Spanish singer who could be considered, oh, the Israeli Bruce Springsteen. David Broza was born in Israel but spent most of his childhood "b'chul." (Israelis have a wonderfully self-centered way of talking about the world. We refer to Israel as haAretz ("the land") and everything outside Israel as chul, which is an abbreviation of chutz la'aretz-- "outside the land.") Broza sings some songs in Spanish and English, others in Hebrew. The Argentinians in my ulpan class knew many of the folk songs that he translated into Hebrew (and turned into Israeli hits). The "David" in "David Broza" is pronounced in the English/Spanish pronunciation (Day-vid) rather than the Israeli pronunciation (Dah-veed)... as I learned after attempting to sound Israeli in my pronunciation of his name for years and actually making myself sound a little clueless.

The concert was incredible. Broza came out saying that he was putting on this concert to spoil himself, and the pleasure he took from singing and playing guitar was contagious. Oh, and the man is an AMAZING guitar player. In concert, he seemed to tickle his guitar and incredibly complex melodies and rhythms just flowed out.

So if you want to be Israeli, get to know the singer who (like all good olim) took pieces of other cultures and made them very Israeli.

This song ("Mitachat LaShamayim"-- Under the Sky) is one of my favorites, and for once it isn't a translation of a Spanish folk song! The story Broza tells at the start of the clip is about the origins of the song, and you can see a translation of this story if you click through to youtube.



Here are the words (from MP3Music.co.il), along with my own rough translation. One caveat: at some point during the David Broza concert I had to ask my husband if one of Broza's new songs was about a girl growing up or a girl being kidnapped. You might want to take my translation with a grain of salt.

 באנו לכאן
מתחת לשמיים
שניים
כמו זוג עיניים

We came here
Under the sky
The two of us
Like a pair of eyes


יש לנו זמן
מתחת לשמיים
בינתיים
אנו עוד כאן


We have time
Under the sky
In the meantime
We're still here


את ואני
את ואני
את ואני
והמיטה רחבה
לתת אהבה


You (feminine) and me
You and me
You and me
And the bed is wide
to give love

לילה ויום
לילה ויום
לילה ויום
והחיוך מתנצל
שהוא מתעצל

Night and day
Night and day
Night and day
And the smile will apologize
for being lazy

באנו לכאן
מתחת לשמיים
שניים
כמו זוג עיניים

We have time
Under the sky
In the meantime
We're still here

שנינו אחד
שנינו אחד
שנינו אחד
אחד שלם ועגול
שלם וגדול

The two of us are one
The two of us are one
The two of us are one
One full and round
full and big

בואי ניתן
בואי ניתן
בואי ניתן
אני אתן לך לתת
לתת לי לתת לך

Come and let's give
Come and let's give
Come and let's give
I will give you to give
to give me to give to you

באנו לכאן
מתחת לשמיים
שניים
כמו זוג עיניים

We came to here
Under the sky
The two of us
Like a pair of eyes

ולמרות הפער
ולמרות הכאב
ולמרות הצער
אני אוהב
ואוהב
ואוהב...

And despite the divide
And despite the pain
And despite the sorrow
I love
and love
and love...

(In the performance above, David Broza adds a final verse. I'll leave that one to you.)

Hmm. On second thought, in English that comes across as a) incomprehensible or b) a ploy to get a woman into bed. It's much better in Hebrew. Trust me. Or it might be a better song if you only understand about half the words, which could possibly be why I like Hebrew music so much.

This next song ("Cmo SheAt"-- "How you are") is not "pretty," but it moves me and sticks into my soul each time I hear it. The performance that I saw was accompanied by three young musicians on violins... it was intense. The version below isn't as good (I think Broza's voice has become more gravely and moving with age), but it gives you the idea. And, er, you might not even want to read my attempt at an English translation down below.  (For the record, though, I like this song even more after learning the words.) Just watch the video:



Here are the lyrics (once again from MP3Music.co.il):

חיי הם אבן,
כמו אבן,
אבן הם חיי.

My life is a stone,
Like a stone,
But it's my life.

כמו שאת אבן קטנטונת,
כמו שאת אבן נזרקת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת זמר של הלך,
כמו שאת אבן של דרך כמו שאת.
כמו שאת אבן של נחל,
כמו שאת אבן שוקעת כמו שאת.

Like you are a tiny stone
Like you are a tossed-away stone as you are.
Like you are a song of a wanderer,
Like you are a stone of the path as you are.
Like you are a stone in a river,
Like you are a settled stone as you are.

כמו שאת אבן קטנטונת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת אבן של נחל כמו שאת.

Like you are a tiny stone as you are.
Like you are a stone of the river as you are.

כמו שאת ביום של גשם,
כמו שאת אבן שקר לה כמו שאת.
כמו שאת אחר כך נוצצת,
כמו שאת חצץ של רכבת כמו שאת.

Like you are on a day of rain,
Like you are a stone and you feel chilly as you are.
Like you are afterward sparkling
Like you are gravel of the train as you are.

כמו שאת אבן קטנטונת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת אבן של נחל כמו שאת.

Like you are a little stone.
Like you are a stone of the river as you are.

כמו שאת אבן מתלכלכת,
כמו שאת אבן מתהפכת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת לא אבן של חן,
לא אבן חומה,
לא אבן שלמה,
כמו שאת.
כמו שאת.

Like you are a stone that gets dirty,
Like you are a turned-over stone like you are.
Like you are not a stone of beauty,
Not a stone of a wall,
Not a complete stone.
As you are.

כמו שאת אבן סוררת,
כמו שאת אבן מתפוררת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת אבן נזרקת,
כמו שאת אבן קטנטונת כמו שאת.
כמו שאת.

Like you are a rebellious stone,
Like you are a crumbling stone as you are.
Like you are a glittering stone,
Like you are a little stone as you are.
As you are.

David Broza has so many other incredible songs that I have to make myself stop... look up "Yiyeh Tov" (which is kind of the Israeli "We Shall Overcome"), "HaIsha SheIti" (a great Spanish-inspired song), "Shir Ahava Bedui" ("Bedouin Love Song"), and so many others. Just search for David Broza on Youtube. And if you ever get a chance to see him in concert, go for it.

What are your favorite David Broza songs? Who are your favorite Israeli musicians?

My first Israeli recipe ever: Ketzitzot!

This week, I plan to subject my husband's Israeli family to a full Thanksgiving dinner. I ordered a full turkey from a butcher shop-- they thought I was crazy, and I'm not sure the turkey will fit in my oven, but it's on its way! I found kosher frozen cranberries in Tiv Taam. I bought fresh sage (which is for some reason readily available, while dried sage isn't), and I am planning to boil down the chunks of pumpkin sold in every veggie shop into pumpkin pie.

The last one is almost guaranteed to disgust my guests, because Israelis see pumpkins as a purely savory food-- I guess they see pumpkin dessert the way I see those Asian bean curd pastries. Is it bad that I am highly entertained by the idea of inflicting American recipes on Israeli guests?

Anyway, trying to cook American for a change made me think about the first Israeli recipe I ever managed to cook, way back before I made aliyah. I had eaten at my Israeli mother-in-law's house countless times and attempted to duplicate her cooking, but whatever I cooked always tasted so... American. I began to think that something on my birth certificate made it impossible for me to get the seasonings right. Finally, I sucked it up and figured out the Hebrew in one of my M-I-L's cookbooks, and I made these meatballs (ketzitzot). They were a revelation! My food finally tasted completely Israeli! 

After that, I began to improvise my own Israeli-tasting dishes simply based on the confidence (and seasoning insight) I gained from this one recipe. I also learned that it pays to use Hebrew cookbooks. Not only do they help me cook like an Israeli, but they improve my vocabulary-- I may not be able to tell you what the word for "shoelaces" or "steering wheel" is in Hebrew, but I know how to say "frying pan" (machvat) and "minced" (katzutz dak)!

This recipe is found on page 136 of the book BaRega Aharon (At the Last Minute) by Benny Saida, one of the foremost Israeli cookbook authors. Saida's recipes are easy, delicious, and very Israeli. The Hebrew he uses is simple and the directions concise. I've never been disappointed by any recipe from any of Saida's books. You can order this cookbook online in the US here.

Veal Meatballs with Green Tahini Sauce

Click on the image below to see a larger version. The translation is my own... it may not be perfectly accurate, but hey-- I've made this recipe many times, and the ketzitzot are always delicious! Comments in italics are from me.

Prepare large quantities, because these meatballs will disappear from the table even before you have had time to fry all of them.

5 servings

Ingredients 

For the meatballs:

700 grams (1 1/2 pounds) ground veal (Ground turkey and ground beef also work well)
1 cup chopped parsley
1 onion, grated (or chopped finely)
4 garlic cloves, minced
1-2 eggs
4 tablespoons bread crumbs
salt, freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon sumac (sumac powder might be hard to find in the US, despite the fact that sumac bushes abound. You can harvest your own from a weedy patch-- being careful to avoid the poison-ivy-like poison sumac-- or check out a kosher, middle-eastern, or possibly Indian grocery store. You can try replacing the sumac with paprika, although the bittersweet flavor of sumac adds something special to this recipe.) 
1 teaspoon cumin

oil, to fry (Just enough to coat the pan is ok. I never deep-fry these.)

For the green tahini sauce:

1 cup tahini (available in most grocery stores-- this is sesame seed butter, and it's an ingredient in hummus as well as halva. In Hebrew, tahini is pronouned tachina.)
4 cloves garlic (Yes, 8 cloves garlic total. Israeli food is FULL of garlic!)
1/4 cup lemon juice
3/4 cup water
1 1/4 cup coarsely chopped parsley
salt

1. To prepare the meatballs: Mix all the ingredients of the meatballs in a bowl, and form the mixture into oval-shaped balls (kind of flat and long, like in the picture). Heat up the oil to fry, and fry the ketzitzot in the hot oil (high heat, fry until they are firm and golden). 
2. To prepare the tahini: Put all of the ingredients of the green tahini into a food processor, and mix to a thick sauce. (If it's too thick, add more water. If you want it to look more like the picture rather than a green paste, add in the parsley only at the end.) Taste, and adjust seasonings.
3. To serve: Divide the meatballs onto individual serving plates, and spoon over them three tablespoons of the green tahini. Serve with hot pitas.

So that was my first Israeli recipe. By the way, ketzitzot are a very popular Israeli food, which makes it all the more strange that Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs became Geshem shel Falofel (Falofel rain) when it came to this country. If you've never had Israeli meatballs, definitely try this recipe-- no spaghetti involved!

What was the first time you felt like an Israeli cook? What are your favorite Israeli recipes? What Israeli foods would you like to learn how to cook?

Hebrew words that sound like English but mean something else

One of the more confusing things about learning Hebrew is that some words sound like English but don't have the same meaning as their English counterparts. Or rather, their meaning has taken a life of its own in Hebrew, such as the way "super" means "grocery store" here. (In many cases, these words came to Hebrew from a different language, like French.) We all know of הוא (sounds like "who," means "he"), היא (sounds like "he," means "she"), and דג (sounds like "dog," means "fish"). Here are a few examples you might not learn in Hebrew school:

Hebrew word: cuckoo (קוקו)
Sounds like:

Actually means:

"Cuckoo" in Hebrew means ponytail. Does anyone have any idea why? Maybe ponytails swing off your head like the weight in a cuckoo clock?

Hebrew word: mommy (מאמי)
Sounds like:

Actually means:
This is Miri Mesika's absolutely gorgeous song, "Mami," and no, she isn't singing to her mother. In Hebrew, "mami" actually means "sweetie," and it's a term of endearment you might use for a friend as well as a lover. Another term of endearment is "boobie," but I didn't want to post a picture of what that sounds like.

Hebrew word: bagel (בייגלה)
Sounds like:

Actually means:

Bizarrely enough, bagels are pretty hard to find in Israel. When someone asks you if you want a "bageleh," they're usually not offering a little bagel-- they're offering a pretzel.

Hebrew word: nylon (ניילון)
Sounds like:

Actually means:

Who knows why, but a plastic bag (particularly the kind that you can get at the grocery store) is called a "nylon" here. (Sometimes you hear "sakit nylon," nylon bag.)

Hebrew term: kabob (קבב)
Sounds like:

Actually means:

When I was first offered a "kabab" in Israel, I expected a shish kabob-- in other words, chunks of meat and veggies roasted in a stick. Instead, "kabab" in Israel (and it most of the Middle East, I suspect) means ground meat and spices shaped into a kind of sausage. Traditionally, they're shaped around a stick, but not always. If you actually want a shish kabob, ask for a shishlik (שישליק).

Hebrew term: salat mayonnaise (סלט מיונז)
Sounds like:

Actually means:

Actually, potato salad basically is mayonnaise salad, so maybe that one is not misleading after all. Israelis just have a more honest take on the salad's primary ingredient.

Hebrew word: Mafia (מאפיה)

Sounds like:

Actually means:

(That isn't an Israeli bakery. If it were, some of those pastries would be mushroom-filled.) Technically, the Hebrew word for bakery is pronounced ma-a-fi-a, and it comes from the verb "leefot," which means "to bake." I was relieved to discover this after being told to go down the street to buy bread from the mafia. On the other hand, if someone tells you to buy your challah from one of the mishpachot pesha... you're probably in Netanya.

I can think of a few more. French fries are "chips" (although that should come as no surprise to anyone who has traveled outside the US), the secular New Year's Eve  is "Sylvester," etc. To me, "arse" (the term for a slicked-up, dressed-to-the-nines in too-tight and overly-trendy-clothing young-mizrachi-guy) always sounds like the British word for, er, hindquarters. This blog post offers a great list of some more Hebrew faux-amis.

What are your favorites? Have you ever been confused by a sound-alike Hebrew term?

Sometimes, literal translations don't work

This week marks the end of summer vacation for Israeli kids-- as any Israeli can tell when we venture into the back-to-school mayhem at Office Depot or Kravitz.

This got me thinking: the literal translation of "summer vacation" into Hebrew would be "chufshat kayitz," the "vacation of summer." But most Israelis call summer vacation "hachofesh hagadol," or "the big vacation." Jewish holidays insert a number of shorter vacations into the Israeli school year-- a week off for Sukkot, at least two weeks off for Passover, days off for Purim and Rosh Hashana and Shavuot. Summer vacation doesn't start until July here, but when it does, it's the big one-- "hachofesh hagadol."

There are many other phrases that are best not translated literally. For example, if I look up "retired" in the dictionary, I find "begimlaut" or "bedimus." However, most Israelis say "latzet lepensia"-- to go on a pension-- in place of "retired." Last night, my husband and I watched There Will be Blood, a very depressing Oscar-winning movie about a couple who ends up with a suitcase containing two million dollars and a psychopathic hitman in chase. After finding this windfall, they said they were "retired"-- which the Hebrew subtitles translated as "yotze lepensia," despite the fact that no pension was involved.

Sometimes literal translations INTO Hebrew fail. For example, I tend to say "right" a lot in English, so in Hebrew I say "nachon." Problem is, Israelis don't use "nachon" to express agreement-- they use it to confirm that something is correct-- so I end up sounding like I'm critically assessing what is being said to me instead of agreeing.

Similarly, when we were looking for apartments, I'd tell property owners that I wanted to "levaker et hadira"-- a literal translation of "to visit the apartment." However, "levaker" in Hebrew can also mean "to criticize," so what the owners heard was that I wanted to come criticize their home. (It's best to say you want to see the apartment, "liraot et hadira.")

Finally, there's the literal translation of the English movie title O Brother, Where art Thou into Hebrew: Achi, Aifo Atah? Which is accurate, except that O Brother, Where art Thou sounds like something you might read in the Bible, while Achi, Aifo Atah is something that Israeli cabbies shout at each other over their mobile phones-- "Hey bro, where you at?"

Have you encountered other examples of literal translation FAILS?

Can I use the bathroom... er... toilet room... er... WC?

Not our toilet. (http://nerdapproved.com/bizarre-gadgets/mr-toilet-plush/)

Israelis tend to think it's gross to have a toilet in the same room as a bathtub. I've seen a few houses or apartments with everything in one room, but most Israeli homes contain a toilet room and then a separate room with a bathtub, shower and sink. Nicer homes have a little sink in the toilet room, but in our apartment we have to angle out of the toilet room (attempting not to touch anything in the process) and into the separate bathroom to wash our hands. This is especially fun when a guest happens to actually be taking a shower when I just used the, er, toilet room-- although I guess it's nice I can use the toilet at all when someone else is showering!

All this leads to a little terminology confusion. I'm used to calling it all the bathroom, or the ambatia in Hebrew. But when I ask where the bathroom is at someone else's house, people tend to think I'm looking for a bubble bath. So then I have to figure out what's the word for the room with just a toilet-- restroom? Toilet room? Powder room? Maybe WC, the British word for "water closet," and, incidentally, what they call toilet rooms in French (Veh Seh). In Hebrew, the correct word is shirutim, "services," but I tend to forget this. Once, our drains clogged when we had American guests. I took one of the guests to use the bathroom--er, WC-- in our neighbor's apartment. But when I got there, I completely blanked on the right word, and I ended up asking if the guest could use their "asla," their toilet. A little graphic. I've never quite been able to look the neighbors in the eye since.

So if you want to be Israeli, just remember to ask for the shirutim, not the ambatia. It's also a good idea to remember that the plural of shirut (one of those group taxis) is moniot shirut, not shirutim... I've also gotten weird looks when ask if shirutim come to this bus stop.

Ah, good times. Maybe I should stick to posting about my dirty dishes. :)

Random thoughts...

First, check out the new Haveil Havelim: http://atimeofthesigns.blogspot.com/2009/06/haveil-havalim-224-fourth-of-july.html

I'll be hosting the Jewish blog carnival next week, so submit your posts! If you aren't sure how to use the submission form, you can also post links in response to this message, and I'll try to include them.

Second, happy July 4th! This is my second American Independence Day in Israel, and I think we've got a tradition going. While I normally try to cook like an Israeli (big surprise), on July 4th I go all out and try to cook American. Heinz barbecue sauce on chicken, pasta salad, baked beans, corn, apple pie, and-- of course-- "lettuce salad" (as Israelis call it). On Friday night I had Israeli family as guests, and it was great to see them picking cucumbers and tomatoes out of my salad to try to make it a bit more Israeli. :)

And just in case you thought we don't have the same kind of (redneck) patriotism here that you have in the US, here's an Israeli flag flying from the back of a pickup truck:


Finally, here are answers to the "Hebrish" quiz-- congrats to Alone in the Holy Land for getting almost every question right!

1. Cat scratcher (From one of those cardboard scratching boxes. Don't ask me why this one was in English.)
2. Instillator (This is a word that sounds like English but probably comes to Hebrew from another language. It means "plumber." We have about 10 "instillator" magnets stuck on our metallic door... maybe I'll post a picture some time!)
3. Salon Abraham (from a beauty salon nearby)
4. Extra large (I forget the context, but it wasn't a fast food meal.)
5. Double lotto
6. American Pancake
7. The sexiest ("Hachi sexiot"-- "sexy" is conjugated for plural female. This is from the cover of a women's magazine featuring Bar Rafeili.)
8. HaTalkbackistim (In other words, "the talkbacks." This is probably referring to people on Internet sites "talking back" about participants in the reality show "The Amazing Race." I love the fact that this very English idiom is conjugated with Hebrew grammar. :)
9. Hava International (Probably a play on "Dana International," Israel's most famous transvestite superstar, who is not to be confused with "Roni Superstar.")
10. Big Ben (Referring to Ben Affleck!)
11.Astrologit (Astrological)
12. Horoscope
13. 10 classikot (10 classics-- referring to books.)

Hope you enjoyed!

Can you read Hebrish?

When I first started to learn Hebrew, the prospect of reading without vowels was daunting. (Most printed Hebrew contains consonants without the vowel notations-- it's like reading Englsh lk ths. Hrd, rght?) Except that it isn't like reading English like that.

When you become comfortable in Hebrew, you develop a sense for its patterns. If a word is past tense or present tense, for example, you know what its vowels will sound like. Dipthongs or consonant clusters (which pepper English) are rare in Hebrew, so between almost every consonant there will be one vowel-- which your brain starts to automatically insert.

We even insert vowels into acronyms. The acronym for Torah, Neviim, Ctuvim-- the complete Hebrew Bible (pentateuch, prophets, writings)-- is not "T.N.C" but "TaNaCh." Tzava HaHagana LeYisrael -- the Army for the Defense of Israel-- becomes TzaHaL. Chutz LaAretz-- Outside the Land (i.e., anywhere not Israel)-- is Chul. You also know that what will be a hard "p" at the start of a word will be a soft "f" at a word's end. Hebrew makes sense. Vowels appear naturally, where they fit.

This breaks down when you run into Hebrish (Engrew, if you prefer)... English words that have been adopted into Hebrew or simply written in Hebrew characters. Whenever I struggle to read a word, I usually realize in the end that it's English. How good are you at reading Hebrish? The good news is that you don't even need Hebrew skills to try to read these, for the most part-- you just need to learn the aleph-bet!

1. (Hint-- a צ with an apostrophe after it makes a "ch" sound)
2. 
3. 
4. (Hint-- a ג followed by an apostrophe makes a "j" sound.)
5. 
6. 
7. (The first word is Hebrew-- "hachi," meaning "the most. The second word is based on an English word.)
8. (This is a tricky one, but I had to fit my Israeli Amazing Race obsession in somewhere. The Hebrish word is highlighted, and if you think about how reality shows work you can probably figure it out.)
9. (The first word is a name. The Hebrew is second.)
10. 
11. 
    
12. (Related to #11!)
13. 

Can you figure these out? Post your guesses in the comments! I'll post the answers soon!