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If you are ever in the city of Tsfat and you get one of
those official looking papers tucked under your windshield wiper, run! Sell your car and go live off the grid,
because that’s probably easier than figuring out how to pay a parking ticket.
I do have experience with this. Take,
for example, Tel Aviv. I begrudgingly paid my ticket right away using a
convenient phone service. To help
facilitate any issues, there’s a website in English with a Tel Aviv parking violation page.
same. But beware of bringing a car anywhere near Ra’anana, as menacing pkachim
will stealthily hunt you down. Those “Men in Black” with their dark shades
sneak around on their silent electric motorbikes handing out tickets even
before you pull the keys from the ignition.
Look at the ticket upside down, sideways, front and back; you will see words, but
gather no concrete information. There is no place on the ticket that tells you
how to pay it. You may make out something about the Doar, the place Israelis
line up all day long and perform the most bizarre, un-post office related
activities imaginable. Lining up to pay bills seems like a very backward
activity for such a high-tech country, but that itself may be another blog
entry and I’ve already had enough post-office related breakdown (see Burnt Quinoa and A Stamp).
phone number way up in the corner of the ticket. This was a start; it was
Monday at 1:00 p.m., regular office hours. The phone rang and rang. No one
answered and there was no message.
Tsfat. She has no car so has never had the opportunity to pay a parking ticket,
but she dug up a phone number for a company in charge of parking tickets.
number and I called. The woman who answered the phone said this was the right
place, but I needed to talk to Dina.
hung up.
such an answer? Outside of Israel, a
clerk would say, “She’s away from the office. Please call back in two days.”
and a tiny country where people talk to strangers like they are family, be it
with kind, gruff or rude words. It reminded me of the time I was stopped at a
red light and the driver in the car beside me signaled to me to pull down the
window. I did and he asked me how much I paid for my car. When I told him, he
screamed back, “Hah! You paid too much,” and took off.
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