Nadav: A True First-Hand Account of Poker in Israel

by GILAD CHUDLER, Editor-in-Chief

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Summary: This narrative journalistic piece takes a look at poker culture in Israel and contrasts it through the eyes of Nadav, an American who lived in Israel for two years and came back to visit friends and family there. The article attempts to show differences and similarities between the way a casual tournament in America would be as opposed to how it was in Israel.

“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!” cried Nadav’s alarm clock, notifying him that it was time to get out of bed. Nadav, a UC Berkeley student about to enter his fourth year as a Development Studies major, knew that it was going to be a long night so he made sure to take a nap until about 9:30pm. That way he would be able to stay awake with his friends instead of passing out on the couch. The sweltering heat of the day had waned, although it was still humid enough to swim to the bathroom.Nevertheless, Nadav managed to drag himself out of bed and with great effort got dressed, washed his face and made his way over to the kitchen. He did all of this slow and methodically, like a man in a trance. In many ways, he was in a trance. He was not used to going out so late at night. Most of the time in Berkeley he’d be getting ready to go to bed instead of to go out with his friends to play cards, but this wasn’t Berkeley. This was Israel and social norms of America no longer applied here. He was back in the Holy Land and he knew that around these parts most people didn’t leave their houses to go out at night until 11:30pm at the earliest. Although it was only 10:00pm, he had a sneaking suspicion, judging from the noise and smells in the kitchen, that he wouldn’t be leaving any earlier than 11:00pm.

As expected, the entire family was over at the house. It wasn’t like back in America where seeing the entire family after a nap meant seeing two cousins and your aunt and uncle. In Israel this means walking into a room laden with four types of chicken, three types of rice, two types of fish, potato patties, meat patties, fava beans, humus, tahini, Turkish salad, stacks of pita that almost reached the ceiling and an entire army of hungry, ravenous Israelis who will bite your finger off if you get in the way of their drumstick. Amidst the sounds of snarling and chewing, Nadav tried to inch his way over to the door unnoticed, but he got caught. His grandmother, a 95 year old Iraqi woman who, to this day, does not allow a child to leave her home without feeding that poor soul to the point of illness. She saw Nadav trying to leave without eating a plate of her rice and stopped him dead in his tracks. Her angelic voice camouflaged her malicious intentions to see if she could make her plump little grandson’s stomach explode. “Nadab,” as she so fondly called her American grandchild, “eat some fish sweetheart. There’s fish.”

“Grandma, I’m not hungry. I just woke up from a nap five minutes ago and the last thing I want to think about is food. Anyways, I think I’m still full from the twelve course meal we ate at lunch. I just want some tea.” Nadav was trying to get off easy by just asking for a tea, but there was already a hint of futility in his voice. His grandmother, Nadira, was already tearing her eyes up. Although tiny in stature, she had lived a long life filled with trials and tribulations. There was no way she would relent to anybody under the age of 80.

“Nadab. Eat some fish. There’s fish and chicken. And I made rice! Eat something,” she motioned with her hands towards the various platters and pouted her lips, laying on the famous Jewish guilt with unbridled animosity. “I made it for you, Nadab, eat some. It’s good.”

As Nadav tried to stave off the culinary attacks of his grandmother, he heard his grandfather release a deep belch. He didn’t even look up to see if he had offended anybody, belching like that was as normal as scratching his head for Nadav’s grandfather. The younger generation giggled as these moments of generational differences brought them great joy. It reminded them that their grandparents came from another world, one of camels, sultans and swordfights.

“Alright, fine. I’ll try some of the fish.”

Before Nadav made it out of the house he had eaten two plates of food and had to kiss nearly fifty men and women on both cheeks before exiting the door. He also had four dates with his aunt’s; each one separately took him aside and made him promise that they could cook for him one night this week. As Nadav made his way through the door he took one final look back at his family as they continued to feast. Although he felt like throwing up after eating all that food and he was slightly annoyed that his next four nights were already taken up, Nadav had truly missed scenes like this. He gave himself a moment to observe the scene going on at his grandparent’s apartment -- the very same apartment he lived in for an entire year only a few short years ago. He missed the kitschy decorations that included several large framed pictures of Rabbi’s that were displayed on the walls surrounded by dozens of pictures of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He missed the backgammon boards with salt-shaker bottoms as pieces because the young children always lost the originals. He especially loved the poster of a rendition of the third temple; the one religious Jews hope will be built to replace the second temple. The second temple in Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans and is the now the site of the famous Wailing Wall.

Nadav took it all in and with a satisfied sigh he closed the door, stepped into the hallway and pushed the button for the elevator. Even though he didn’t want to eat all of that food before going out, he was glad he did. It tasted like his childhood and brought back a flood of memories sitting on a coach in Israel on a hot and humid night, struggling to digest pounds of home cooked Middle Eastern food. He hadn’t been to his old home in Petach Tikvah for nearly three years and he was relishing every exquisite, mouth-stuffing moment.

What could he possibly complain about anyways? Tonight Nadav was going out to see his old friends from high school. He was a little bit nervous knowing that much had changed since he last saw his teenage companions. In the time since he last saw them, he had almost completed a college degree. On the other hand, his friends had been busy defending Israel as members of the IDF (Israel Defense Forces). They were no longer children and a great deal of life had happened since they all last saw each other. Yet, one thing at least was sure to remain the same. When he saw them tonight, they would order a pizza, smoke hookah and play poker until the sunrise...

Stay Tuned! Part II will appear in the August Issue of The Worldly.