‘Munich is very family-friendly. It’s like a kibbutz’

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Heloise Temps, 34, Asaf Yaacobi, 42, Eden Yaacobi, 4, Zoe Yaacobi, 1; live in Munich and flying there

How was your visit in Israel?

Heloise: In Germany, there is a protocol for everything. You need to do A, B and C, and everything is written down systematically, everything happens by the book. In Israel there is simply no f—ing playbook!

Asaf: We didn’t receive any form about quarantining. Every official gave us different information.

Heloise: I went into a French Facebook group of people in Netanya, because I thought maybe they could help me understand.

Asaf: In the end, my mother went to the district health office in Netanya. She had to tell the guard some story so he would let her in, and she spoke with someone there.

Heloise: Welcome to the Middle East.

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Hang on – you’re French, you’re Israeli, you have two daughters and you live in Munich. What’s the story?

Heloise: We lived in Paris until the first lockdown. I grew up in a small rural area in France, and after high school I moved to Paris. I was so thrilled to be living there, I went out every night, I drank champagne, I worked. At age 20, I went to New York, which is where we met, and then I returned to Paris. It was amazing – until I got tired of it. It’s a big city, and we have children. You want to take them to the park, but there is no park. There’s a tiny place with a slide, and you have to wait in line to get onto it. There’s no nature, only buildings, and you can’t breathe. We wanted to move to a green place, but it depended on Asaf’s job – he was just then looking for work.

Asaf: I’m an industrial designer in the automotive industry. I’m establishing a school for automotive design in Munich.

Heloise: We really felt that we had to move to Munich. It was odd, we’d never set foot there, we didn’t speak German, but when Asaf started the process of applying for a job there, the approach was: “There is no other option – you need to get that job.” It worked.

What’s it like in Munich?

Heloise: Very family-friendly. There are playgrounds everywhere, it’s very green.

Asaf: In a word: kibbutz.

Heloise: The biggest problem there is finding day care. It’s a very conservative environment, and in their view the wife should stay home and raise the children. The female destiny is to be a housewife. So because of that there aren’t many preschools in Munich, and people struggle to find one.

How are the Germans compared to the French?

Asaf: It depends. It’s nicer to live in Germany than France, because the Germans are more respectful.

Heloise: The train arrives, and there’s a proper line of people waiting. In France everyone pushes you so they can get on.

Asaf: The only thing I don’t like is the look Germans give you to let you know you’ve done something wrong.

Heloise: Germans are simply not flexible. In my first days in Germany I rode a bike. I’m French, so if I want to cross the street on a red light and there are no cars – I cross. In Germany, even if there isn’t even a single car on the street they will wait for the light to change. I saw it! A woman was running to catch a bus and she stopped for a red light even though the road was completely empty. And she missed the bus! She didn’t cross! It’s amazing!

How is it that you met in New York at age 20?

Asaf: Do you want the long version or the short one?

The long one.

Heloise: I went to New York with a girlfriend. Asaf had just met an Australian guy in a hostel, who was supposed to meet with that friend. The four of us spent 48 hours together, he really fell for me, but I didn’t go for him because he looked like a Pakistani.

Asaf: Imagine what it’s like to listen to this story.

Heloise: In short, I fell in love with the Australian guy.

Asaf: Get to the point.

Heloise: Asaf and I stayed in touch, we spoke every few years. And then came a very bad period in my life. I lost my brother, I had jaundice, I was exhausted. When I told Asaf about it, he said, “Why didn’t you call to tell me?” I had this moment of “Wow, who is this sweet guy?” I knew he was sweet, but man, we’re speaking once every three years, why should I call to tell him about my brother? And then he says I’m invited to visit him in Tel Aviv. I went, and we fell in love there. I felt that I had found myself in a male version.

Great story. What’s your account of how you met – the short one?

Asaf: We met in New York.

Yonatan Strauss.Tomer Appelbaum

Yonatan Strauss, 23; lives in Shimsheet; arriving from Venice

Hi, Yonatan, where have you been?

I was on a 12-day trek in Italy, on the Alta Via 2, which means the “high way.” I love hiking.

What do you love about it?

It’s great to see landscapes that don’t exist in Israel. I also like getting to know the culture of other people and learning from it. It’s so different from Israel. There are a lot of older people on treks; we lowered the average age on almost every hike I went on. I don’t know what all those Europeans eat, but people of 65 and 70 hike with packs on their back. You see a lot of families, a lot of women, many couples. The truth is you hardly ever see groups of men. We climbed to the peak of the highest mountain in Italy, and we were the only group of men. It was superb.

Where do you sleep? In tents?

You can sleep in a tent, I slept in huts called rifugios. Every one is a special experience. There are rifugio where you’re alone and others that are full of people playing cards and drinking beer until 11 at night.

Whom did you hike with?

Two friends. We met in the mechina [pre-army program] in Paran. I came back by myseolf and they went on to Kyrgyzstan.

Can you tell us something about the mechina?

It’s mixed – secular and religious. We had a large mass secular of people. Most of the year you work in farming, study, go on hikes and do field workshops. I don’t feel pressure in life to do things fast, and I didn’t feel pressure to rush and be drafted. The mechina helped me very much afterward in the army.

How?

I think my life was a bit of a bubble. I grew up in Shimsheet, which is a community in the Jezreel Valley of around 550 families. And then a naval officers course, which is also a bubble, and which was quite similar in terms of the kind of people in it. Afterward, when I switched to Paratroops, it was different. So the mechina prepared me for being with other kinds of people, taught me to be away from home for a lengthy period, how to live with people, far from one’s parents, friends, siblings. So it’s not exactly the same as the army, but you learn to be away from home for two or three weeks.

Just a minute – you were drafted into the navy but you ended up in the Paratroops?

I started in a naval officers course, I was there for eight months. The basic training is very difficult and intense. There aren’t many furloughs, you don’t sleep, you get pulled out of bed and into the sea every night, you’re cold and tired. You’re taught how to handle a sailboat, then a rubber dinghy, then how to command a rubber dinghy, then there are battle procedures, and then you sail from Zikim [north of the Gaza Strip] to Haifa. After that period we started the regular training program and I realized it wasn’t for me. I signed a waiver and switched to the Paratroops.

What made you realize it wasn’t for you?

We spent a month on the boats, and I understood that I wasn’t motivated enough to be doing that for seven-and-a-half years. I didn’t get along with the sea so well, I threw up a lot and it was hard for me. Beyond that, I’d already seen life on the boats. I saw how others were gung-ho, how badly they wanted to be naval commanders, and I realized that I had to look somewhere else for my place.

What was different in the Paratroops?

In the naval commanders course, everyone comes with strong desire, and the goal you have is to get through the stages and advance. If something needs to be done, everyone raises their hand to volunteer. It’s not so real, you know. Sometimes it’s what they demand of you, or it’s what needs to be done to look really good. It’s not like that in the Paratroops. It’s a different experience.

Was it hard to leave?

It’s a big deal, the whole business of leaving or being told to leave these courses. For obvious reasons, people don’t want to say they were cut, or that they left. Because why did that happen? Am I weak? I think that in a lot of army programs, people don’t do what’s right for them, because they’re afraid of what others will say. After I left I was so calm and at peace with myself that it was clear I’d made the right decision.

Okay, thanks for talking to us.

Can I add something?

Sure.

Two months ago there was an awful accident. Someone’s car crashed into a family; they were injured and their son, Oliver, was killed. He was a year old. I’m a relative of theirs. There is a crowdfunding project to help them with medical treatment. It’s called “In Memory of Oliver.” I’d be glad if anyone who wants to will help them.