Our friend Dave, who recently came to visit us and managed to time his trip so he arrive three days before the fighting in the North started and stay until about a week before it ended, sent us a poem. It's a poem that Yuval wrote 3 1/2 years ago when Dave was in Europe and debating whether or not to extend his trip and come to Israel for the first time. Yuval dashed out a rhyme in order to encourage him to travel eastward.
When you're feeling confused, overtravelled and triste
come discover your Yiddisher roots in the east.
Come and take in the sun, come and eat like a beast
leave behind the cold tepratures, rain, hail and mist.
When you're caught in a limbo between Rennes and Rome
Come discover a place that yearns to be your home
Come and watch how soft waves turn into a soft foam
From upon a cafe seat, while reading a tome.
It's a land where the mountains are handsome and tall,
It's a land where no winter is known, nor is fall,
And the all-night night-life drips with fine alcohol,
There all biblical promises lead, after all.
Past the very distinct lines it sure is a mess
of atrocious war crimes, I have to confess
But sweet coastal reigions are troubled far less
And the way you'll be hosted is sure to impress.
Good friends will transport you to castles of old
and feed you good food that is spicy and bold
Within you new concepts of life will unfold
A taste of the middle east won't leave you cold!
Do give us as a nation the great honour,
Shalom, salaam, Peace,
Yuval.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Times and Seasons
Today I went looking for figs. I LOVE fresh figs. They bear no resemblance to Fig Newtons, the closest thing I ever had to a fig before I came here. Unfortunately, there were no figs to be found. Fruits and vegetables here are, in general, fantastic, fresh, cheap and exotic. They have an additional bonus/disappointment attached. They all have their own time schedule. Things come very much in season. Cherries appear at the end of June and disappear by the middle of July, so if you like cherries, you have to make the most of those three weeks. I'm a little worried that we hit the tail end of fig season without my knowing it. The upside: avocados are on their way!
I haven't yet worked out the timing of these seasonal reappearances and diappearances. I'm often caught by surprise. There have been times when I planned to repeat meals that I had just last week. I fantacize about them all day- portobello mushrooms with blue cheese for example. At the end of the work day, I wander the several blocks of the open market and find one sad, black portobello mushroom, but suddenly the place is bursting with artichokes and eggplants. The whole thing lends itself well to creative cooking. It also makes me appreciate the fruit I have when I have it. There is a Jewish prayer that is said at special occasions and, at least according to our prayerbook, whenever one eats the first fruit of the new season. This makes me even more aware of when the first fruits of the season are available.
It isn't just produce that runs by a special clock. We tried to make fish last Sunday, the first day of the work week. We walked for 30 minutes in 90 degree heat to get to the fish shop only to find it closed. On our way back we stopped at the grocery store. No fish there either. Fortunately, someone there was able to explain that since the fishermen don't work on Saturday, there are no fish on Sunday.
Not only fishermen don't work on Saturday, almost all stores are closed from Friday afternoon until Saturday evening. This leads to some serious traffic jams between 8:30-11:00 pm on Saturdays. We tried to make our way to an Ikea sale at 9:30 last night, 20 minutes to the north of us. When we arrived, the traffic at the freeway exit was at a standstill with the intersection opening into the Ikea parking lot creating gridlock that reached to the freeway. We debated for a few minutes, visualizing the horrors this would lead to at the checkout counter, and then made a mad dash back south for Tel Aviv.
My first Ikea shopping trip of the season will just have to wait.
I haven't yet worked out the timing of these seasonal reappearances and diappearances. I'm often caught by surprise. There have been times when I planned to repeat meals that I had just last week. I fantacize about them all day- portobello mushrooms with blue cheese for example. At the end of the work day, I wander the several blocks of the open market and find one sad, black portobello mushroom, but suddenly the place is bursting with artichokes and eggplants. The whole thing lends itself well to creative cooking. It also makes me appreciate the fruit I have when I have it. There is a Jewish prayer that is said at special occasions and, at least according to our prayerbook, whenever one eats the first fruit of the new season. This makes me even more aware of when the first fruits of the season are available.
It isn't just produce that runs by a special clock. We tried to make fish last Sunday, the first day of the work week. We walked for 30 minutes in 90 degree heat to get to the fish shop only to find it closed. On our way back we stopped at the grocery store. No fish there either. Fortunately, someone there was able to explain that since the fishermen don't work on Saturday, there are no fish on Sunday.
Not only fishermen don't work on Saturday, almost all stores are closed from Friday afternoon until Saturday evening. This leads to some serious traffic jams between 8:30-11:00 pm on Saturdays. We tried to make our way to an Ikea sale at 9:30 last night, 20 minutes to the north of us. When we arrived, the traffic at the freeway exit was at a standstill with the intersection opening into the Ikea parking lot creating gridlock that reached to the freeway. We debated for a few minutes, visualizing the horrors this would lead to at the checkout counter, and then made a mad dash back south for Tel Aviv.
My first Ikea shopping trip of the season will just have to wait.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Bar Mitzvah
Saturday was Yuval's cousin's Bar Mitzvah. The actual ceremony took place in an Orthodox synagogue, which means that the women were separated from the men. It wasn't TOO Orthodox though, which meant that we actually were able to stay on the same level as the men, rather than on a balcony above them, and we weren't separated by a curtain.
As we came into the synagogue, the men all took prayer shawls and prayer books and moved forward to pray. The women, all secular except for the Rabbi's wife, moved to the women's section sans prayer shawls (which would be totally out of place in Israel) and sans prayer books. I sat in between Michal and Tamar who kept discussing shoes, boyfriends, weekend plans, etc. throughout the ceremony. "What's wrong?" Tamar asked. "You look like your concentrating."
"I am concentrating. I come from a very different culture where you don't talk during a religious service."
"I thought that was it." She was quiet for a moment and then resumed talking with Michal.
At one point during the prayer, Orna turned around and said, "Jewish prayer, or all prayer, is really like a meditation. You just lose yourselves in the words. Even if you don't concentrate on what you are saying you can still get lost in the words. It's very beautiful." I noticed that she didn't actually have a prayer book and was talking to her mother.
The Bar Mitzvah boy sang wonderfully when it was his turn to read the Torah. The 90 year old grandfather stood up to read from the Torah as well, but not before winking and giving a thumb's up sign to the ladies section. When he finished, he puffed up his chest and gave a little bow.
After the final time the Bar Mitzah boy sang, the women threw candy, in order to shower him in sweetness. Then, they stood up and began preparing cheeses, breads, fish and vegetables for after the service. After finishing the food preparations and waiting for the service to end, I sat next to Orna.
"I just hate it," she said. "This ceremony only involves the men; it has nothing to do with the women. Here we sit in the back and then prepare the food while they actually take part."
For most secular Israeli's their relationship with Judaism is complex. As with Orna, one minute it is easy to idealize- all of it is so beautiful and so peaceful- and the next minute to criticize- what does any of this have to do with me anyway?
After Orna stood up I sat next to the grandmother. "I think this is nice. I think it does something for me just to be here. Shimon hates this," she whispered, referring to her husband who had stood so proudly to read the Torah. "He thinks its all nonsense. He says, 'where was God when they murdered six million of us? Why didn't he stop it? Who needs a god like that?'"
"And what do you think?" I whispered.
"I think that whoever wants to believe, should believe. I don't personally believe it, but at the same time I sit here quietly and don't interfere. I don't go shouting my opinions." But it still does something just to be there.
After the synagogue we went to what I think is possibly the most gorgeous house in the country. The yard was set up with tables and chairs, a full bar. A separate coffee bar turned the deck into a café, there were already children swimming in the pool and the dj was hard at work.
"The part of the Torah we read at the synagogue covered the rules of keeping kosher," Yuval pointed out, biting into his pork ribs. I reached out for another piece of sushi from the tray of a passing waiter.
As we came into the synagogue, the men all took prayer shawls and prayer books and moved forward to pray. The women, all secular except for the Rabbi's wife, moved to the women's section sans prayer shawls (which would be totally out of place in Israel) and sans prayer books. I sat in between Michal and Tamar who kept discussing shoes, boyfriends, weekend plans, etc. throughout the ceremony. "What's wrong?" Tamar asked. "You look like your concentrating."
"I am concentrating. I come from a very different culture where you don't talk during a religious service."
"I thought that was it." She was quiet for a moment and then resumed talking with Michal.
At one point during the prayer, Orna turned around and said, "Jewish prayer, or all prayer, is really like a meditation. You just lose yourselves in the words. Even if you don't concentrate on what you are saying you can still get lost in the words. It's very beautiful." I noticed that she didn't actually have a prayer book and was talking to her mother.
The Bar Mitzvah boy sang wonderfully when it was his turn to read the Torah. The 90 year old grandfather stood up to read from the Torah as well, but not before winking and giving a thumb's up sign to the ladies section. When he finished, he puffed up his chest and gave a little bow.
After the final time the Bar Mitzah boy sang, the women threw candy, in order to shower him in sweetness. Then, they stood up and began preparing cheeses, breads, fish and vegetables for after the service. After finishing the food preparations and waiting for the service to end, I sat next to Orna.
"I just hate it," she said. "This ceremony only involves the men; it has nothing to do with the women. Here we sit in the back and then prepare the food while they actually take part."
For most secular Israeli's their relationship with Judaism is complex. As with Orna, one minute it is easy to idealize- all of it is so beautiful and so peaceful- and the next minute to criticize- what does any of this have to do with me anyway?
After Orna stood up I sat next to the grandmother. "I think this is nice. I think it does something for me just to be here. Shimon hates this," she whispered, referring to her husband who had stood so proudly to read the Torah. "He thinks its all nonsense. He says, 'where was God when they murdered six million of us? Why didn't he stop it? Who needs a god like that?'"
"And what do you think?" I whispered.
"I think that whoever wants to believe, should believe. I don't personally believe it, but at the same time I sit here quietly and don't interfere. I don't go shouting my opinions." But it still does something just to be there.
After the synagogue we went to what I think is possibly the most gorgeous house in the country. The yard was set up with tables and chairs, a full bar. A separate coffee bar turned the deck into a café, there were already children swimming in the pool and the dj was hard at work.
"The part of the Torah we read at the synagogue covered the rules of keeping kosher," Yuval pointed out, biting into his pork ribs. I reached out for another piece of sushi from the tray of a passing waiter.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The Hollywood Institute
This week Yuval and I went to three brothels. We started our tour in the heart of Tel Aviv's slum, at a building that was burned in August of 2000, but a religious lunatic who locked the door of what was then a functioning brothel and then lit the building on fire. It was his way of protesting immoral activity. Four women burned to death and in their memory, women's rights activists held a memorial ceremonial at the site. We and about 100 other protestors gathered to light candles and place flowers in their honor and in order to protest trafficking in women. Trafficking in women and children is, unfortunately, more common than you might think and the lighter restrictions on trade in the EU have also made trafficking in women and children easier. In Israel, most of the 3,000 trafficked women who enter Israel annually come in through the Egyptian border.
After the commemoration ceremony, the group of protestors were given stickers with the 24 hour hotline that offers services to trafficked women. We marched through the neighborhood and placed the stickers. After marching for a while we came to the Hollywood Institite and there we paused. It actually took me a minute to realise what the flashing lights of the Hollywood Institute meant. We stood outside and chanted. A woman on the top floor of the building came out to the balcony and waved at us. After a few minutes, a man came out and shut the main door to shut out the noise of our chanting.
We marched through the pedestrian street of the area where Russian speaking men sat with bottles of beers on their tables and cat called at the parade of women who appeared from nowhere marching through their territory. I felt like the circus arriving in a small town, or like the women prohibitionists in the early 1900's.
The protest ended with a ceremony in a park where a member of the parliment spoke against trafficking in women.
After a little while, Yuval and I walked on. It was late afternoon and I realised suddenly, when the world started spinning, that I hadn't drunk anything for two hours and the heat was getting to me. We walked past a newly remodeled falafel stand. "That's the only falafel stand in Tel Aviv with a permanaent guard," said Yuval. It's been blown up twice in a row already, not somewhere I wanted to stop for a drink. We walked on and came to a kiosk. I walked inside and chose a drink. As I was trying to pay, a police car pulled up across the street. Suddenly everyone around me started shouting, the developmentally disabled guy at the register started laughing and shouting "The cab! The cab!" Yuval laughed too. I started panicking and shouted to Yuval "Help me!" He was just laughing and enjoying the show as all of the people in the shop started running down the street or hopping into cabs. To me, it was just a reminder of how much higher his fear threshold is set. When I'm in a slum and the police pull up and all the wanted criminals around me freak out and start diving out of the way, I personally want to disappear. I'm sure I'll be shot in the next minute or so. He, on the other hand, is aware that the last thing that a wanted criminal is going to do is shoot some random person in front of the cops as they are trying to run away, bizarre accidents aside. And that police officers who have pulled up to address a parking violation on the other side of the street, are not very likely to open fire on the person buying a bottle of water across the street.
After the commemoration ceremony, the group of protestors were given stickers with the 24 hour hotline that offers services to trafficked women. We marched through the neighborhood and placed the stickers. After marching for a while we came to the Hollywood Institite and there we paused. It actually took me a minute to realise what the flashing lights of the Hollywood Institute meant. We stood outside and chanted. A woman on the top floor of the building came out to the balcony and waved at us. After a few minutes, a man came out and shut the main door to shut out the noise of our chanting.
We marched through the pedestrian street of the area where Russian speaking men sat with bottles of beers on their tables and cat called at the parade of women who appeared from nowhere marching through their territory. I felt like the circus arriving in a small town, or like the women prohibitionists in the early 1900's.
The protest ended with a ceremony in a park where a member of the parliment spoke against trafficking in women.
After a little while, Yuval and I walked on. It was late afternoon and I realised suddenly, when the world started spinning, that I hadn't drunk anything for two hours and the heat was getting to me. We walked past a newly remodeled falafel stand. "That's the only falafel stand in Tel Aviv with a permanaent guard," said Yuval. It's been blown up twice in a row already, not somewhere I wanted to stop for a drink. We walked on and came to a kiosk. I walked inside and chose a drink. As I was trying to pay, a police car pulled up across the street. Suddenly everyone around me started shouting, the developmentally disabled guy at the register started laughing and shouting "The cab! The cab!" Yuval laughed too. I started panicking and shouted to Yuval "Help me!" He was just laughing and enjoying the show as all of the people in the shop started running down the street or hopping into cabs. To me, it was just a reminder of how much higher his fear threshold is set. When I'm in a slum and the police pull up and all the wanted criminals around me freak out and start diving out of the way, I personally want to disappear. I'm sure I'll be shot in the next minute or so. He, on the other hand, is aware that the last thing that a wanted criminal is going to do is shoot some random person in front of the cops as they are trying to run away, bizarre accidents aside. And that police officers who have pulled up to address a parking violation on the other side of the street, are not very likely to open fire on the person buying a bottle of water across the street.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe Ever
Great Chocolate Chip Cookies from David Lebovitz's Great Book of Chocolate
1/2 cup (100 grams) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120 grams) firmly packed light brown sugar
8 tablespoons (1 stick) (115 grams) unsalted butter, cold, cut into 1/2-inch (1cm) pieces
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 cups (175 grams) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups (200 grams) semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup(130 grams) walnuts or pecans, toasted and chopped
Adjust the oven rack to the top 1/3 of the oven and preheat to 300F (150C). Line three baking sheets with parchment paper.
Beat the sugars and butters together until smooth. Mix in the egg, vanilla, and baking soda. Stir together the flour and salt, then mix them into the batter. Mix in the chocolate chips and nuts.
Scoop the cookie dough into 2-tablespoon (5cm) balls and place 8 balls, spaced 4 inches (10cm) apart, on each of the baking sheets.
Bake for 18 minutes, or until pale golden brown. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack.
Store at room temperature in an airtight container for up to 3 days.
Make about 20 cookies.
From The Great Book of Chocolate by David Lebovitz (Ten Speed Press, 2004)
1/2 cup (100 grams) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120 grams) firmly packed light brown sugar
8 tablespoons (1 stick) (115 grams) unsalted butter, cold, cut into 1/2-inch (1cm) pieces
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 cups (175 grams) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups (200 grams) semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup(130 grams) walnuts or pecans, toasted and chopped
Adjust the oven rack to the top 1/3 of the oven and preheat to 300F (150C). Line three baking sheets with parchment paper.
Beat the sugars and butters together until smooth. Mix in the egg, vanilla, and baking soda. Stir together the flour and salt, then mix them into the batter. Mix in the chocolate chips and nuts.
Scoop the cookie dough into 2-tablespoon (5cm) balls and place 8 balls, spaced 4 inches (10cm) apart, on each of the baking sheets.
Bake for 18 minutes, or until pale golden brown. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack.
Store at room temperature in an airtight container for up to 3 days.
Make about 20 cookies.
From The Great Book of Chocolate by David Lebovitz (Ten Speed Press, 2004)
Sunday, August 13, 2006
I should be happy but...
A cease fire is actually in sight- just 15 hours to go. There were times when I imagined the end of the fighting would send me out into the street dancing. Now all I want to do is curl up with a book and close out the world. Running through my head all day has been the list of casulties. A list that both sides will do their utmost to increase throughout the course of the night. All through the war I have been mourning the dead on both sides, the people that have evacuated the north of Israel, those that left their homes in Lebanon and have no home to return to, the fallen soldiers and their families. The children that died on Miriam's street in Nazareth, the children that died in the collapsed apartment building in Lebanon. The men loading fruits and vegetables into trucks that were then bombed from the air killing, I don't remember how many- was it 15 or 28?
The list of casulties goes beyond the people. There were over 800,000 trees burned on the Israeli side in fires started by rockets. There is the loss of who knows how many Lebanese leftists and centerists who hated Hizbullah and have now moved to the right. There is the destruction of Beirut, a city that the country had invested so much in and that stood as a symbol of healing, hope, and growth after a devastating civil war. There is the loss of Olmert's power to enact any kind of withdrawl from the West Bank. Once there is no West Bank, Tel Aviv will no longer be the refuge it was in this war and will become only a few miles from the border. Jerusalem will be on the border. At this point, and for who knows how long, no one will agree to give up the barrier that is the West Bank. People here are looking at Lebanon and saying, "We withdrew. We did what Hezbullah wanted and what did they do in the meantime? They built up their military capacity, they trained their soldiers, they prepared for conflict. How can we ever withdraw again?" The same thing with the withdrawl from Gaza. There aren't many people here still saying that it was a good idea. The lesson being learned isn't that withdrawls shouldn't be done unilaterally, but rather with an agreement from both sides, such as what occurred with Egypt and Israel's withdrawl from the Sinai, but simply that no more withdrawls should be made.
I think the disaster that has been ongoing in Gaza and the dead there should be added to the list of casulties of this war. I don't know that the amount of military activity that has taken place there the last few weeks would have occurred if the Israeli government and the world hadn't been keeping all eyes on Lebanon.
While I am devastasted by the death, damage, and destruction in my corner of the world, I'm still amazed at the powers that be in the US, France, England, etc. and the UN Security counsel managing to come to an agreement and find troops to send over (even after Israel kept accidentally killing the ones that were here) and yet the fighting in Sudan has carried on for years and it is estimated that "3.5 million people are now hungry, 2.5 million have been displaced due to violence, and 400,000 people have died in Darfur thus far." See www.savedarfur.org for more.
It's amazing what powerful allies are willing to do, or not.
The list of casulties goes beyond the people. There were over 800,000 trees burned on the Israeli side in fires started by rockets. There is the loss of who knows how many Lebanese leftists and centerists who hated Hizbullah and have now moved to the right. There is the destruction of Beirut, a city that the country had invested so much in and that stood as a symbol of healing, hope, and growth after a devastating civil war. There is the loss of Olmert's power to enact any kind of withdrawl from the West Bank. Once there is no West Bank, Tel Aviv will no longer be the refuge it was in this war and will become only a few miles from the border. Jerusalem will be on the border. At this point, and for who knows how long, no one will agree to give up the barrier that is the West Bank. People here are looking at Lebanon and saying, "We withdrew. We did what Hezbullah wanted and what did they do in the meantime? They built up their military capacity, they trained their soldiers, they prepared for conflict. How can we ever withdraw again?" The same thing with the withdrawl from Gaza. There aren't many people here still saying that it was a good idea. The lesson being learned isn't that withdrawls shouldn't be done unilaterally, but rather with an agreement from both sides, such as what occurred with Egypt and Israel's withdrawl from the Sinai, but simply that no more withdrawls should be made.
I think the disaster that has been ongoing in Gaza and the dead there should be added to the list of casulties of this war. I don't know that the amount of military activity that has taken place there the last few weeks would have occurred if the Israeli government and the world hadn't been keeping all eyes on Lebanon.
While I am devastasted by the death, damage, and destruction in my corner of the world, I'm still amazed at the powers that be in the US, France, England, etc. and the UN Security counsel managing to come to an agreement and find troops to send over (even after Israel kept accidentally killing the ones that were here) and yet the fighting in Sudan has carried on for years and it is estimated that "3.5 million people are now hungry, 2.5 million have been displaced due to violence, and 400,000 people have died in Darfur thus far." See www.savedarfur.org for more.
It's amazing what powerful allies are willing to do, or not.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Brave Cookies
Yesterday Yuval brought home chocolate chip cookies from the grocery store. The packaging was the same as always, except for the addition of a little sticker bearing the words "I'm from Nahariya." Nahariya is one of the communties that has been contiually hit over the last 32 days and yet people continue going to work and producing things like chocolate chip cookies.
Not just our cookies are from Nahariya. Yuval's parents are hosting a couple from Nahariyah. They are both very young, 19 or so, with a new baby. The baby spent the first two weeks of her life in a bomb shelter before the parents found an alternative. The young couple was connected to Yuval's family through a hotline service that connected families from the north to those further south interested in hosting. We also hosted three people, but all of them close friends. It would be a real challenge for me to open my home to complete strangers for an indefinite amount of time and even more of a challenge for me to spend my maternity leave in a house of complete strangers while all my family remained within firing range of Hezbullah. It has already been two weeks since they left their home and yet everytime we have seen them, they have been nothing but calm and full of sweet smiles.
Hopefully tomorrow Israel's government will approve of the UN resolution for a ceasefire and the death and destruction on both sides will stop. I don't have a lot of faith that the government will do so, but we are hoping for the best.
Not just our cookies are from Nahariya. Yuval's parents are hosting a couple from Nahariyah. They are both very young, 19 or so, with a new baby. The baby spent the first two weeks of her life in a bomb shelter before the parents found an alternative. The young couple was connected to Yuval's family through a hotline service that connected families from the north to those further south interested in hosting. We also hosted three people, but all of them close friends. It would be a real challenge for me to open my home to complete strangers for an indefinite amount of time and even more of a challenge for me to spend my maternity leave in a house of complete strangers while all my family remained within firing range of Hezbullah. It has already been two weeks since they left their home and yet everytime we have seen them, they have been nothing but calm and full of sweet smiles.
Hopefully tomorrow Israel's government will approve of the UN resolution for a ceasefire and the death and destruction on both sides will stop. I don't have a lot of faith that the government will do so, but we are hoping for the best.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
I read the news today, oh boy
What really kills me is the repetition here. Today I again had the experience of opening the news website and seeing the headlines and thinking, honestly believing, there must have been a mistake. They must have somehow, on accident, put up an archived webpage. This is last year's news.
Today is was this article that caused me to think this. A tourist, stabbed at night in the Old City of Jeusalem, has died of his wounds. Last July or August, the headline was the same. We had a friend visiting from Boston at the time. He was staying at a hostel in Jerusalem and I had agreed to meet him at Yad VaShem (the Holocaust Memorial museum.) When he arrived he was visibly distraught.
"Did you hear about the stabbing in the Old City?" he asked.
"Of course!"
"Well, it was right outside my hostel. I got there about a minute after it happened, but it was already too late. There was just too much blood. And it took forever for the police to arrive. By the time there was anyone there who could do anything at all, it was definitely too late."
The poor guy also had his camera stolen that day. Then we spent two hours in a Holocaust museum. What a vacation.
I was also in the old city this week. We took two American friends there with us. One of the friends was here for Birthright (apparently not to be confused with Birthright International ) and had been told never to go to the parts of the old city where we took him. While lunching on knafe and drinking strong Arabic coffee, he asked, "Is this what everyone told me to be afraid of? I'm never going to believe anything anyone tells me about this place."
"Don't believe anything we say either," I told him. "Everyone's got his own bias."
After wandering for a while and buying frankincense and myrrh outside the gate that leads from the Dome of the Rock, and visiting the Wailing Wall, we did some shopping near Jaffa gate. In one of the stores, the lovely Palestinian salesman started chatting with us. We stayed so long he invited us to settle in and drink a cup of coffee with him. We discussed the group he volunteers for that unites Israeli Jewish and Palestinian kids in different high schools over the web. We talked about the war with Lebanon, the notorious Ministry of the Interior in East Jerusalem, that he says is better now than it was. We discussed pot growing in California, how a bill becomes a law in the US, whether or not he enjoys his job teaching or should move on to something else, and so on for two hours. In the end we exchanged cell phone numbers and shook hands and thanked each other from making one another's day a little better. Another day in Israel: beauty, good food, strong coffee, death, fear, hope and friendship.
Today is was this article that caused me to think this. A tourist, stabbed at night in the Old City of Jeusalem, has died of his wounds. Last July or August, the headline was the same. We had a friend visiting from Boston at the time. He was staying at a hostel in Jerusalem and I had agreed to meet him at Yad VaShem (the Holocaust Memorial museum.) When he arrived he was visibly distraught.
"Did you hear about the stabbing in the Old City?" he asked.
"Of course!"
"Well, it was right outside my hostel. I got there about a minute after it happened, but it was already too late. There was just too much blood. And it took forever for the police to arrive. By the time there was anyone there who could do anything at all, it was definitely too late."
The poor guy also had his camera stolen that day. Then we spent two hours in a Holocaust museum. What a vacation.
I was also in the old city this week. We took two American friends there with us. One of the friends was here for Birthright (apparently not to be confused with Birthright International ) and had been told never to go to the parts of the old city where we took him. While lunching on knafe and drinking strong Arabic coffee, he asked, "Is this what everyone told me to be afraid of? I'm never going to believe anything anyone tells me about this place."
"Don't believe anything we say either," I told him. "Everyone's got his own bias."
After wandering for a while and buying frankincense and myrrh outside the gate that leads from the Dome of the Rock, and visiting the Wailing Wall, we did some shopping near Jaffa gate. In one of the stores, the lovely Palestinian salesman started chatting with us. We stayed so long he invited us to settle in and drink a cup of coffee with him. We discussed the group he volunteers for that unites Israeli Jewish and Palestinian kids in different high schools over the web. We talked about the war with Lebanon, the notorious Ministry of the Interior in East Jerusalem, that he says is better now than it was. We discussed pot growing in California, how a bill becomes a law in the US, whether or not he enjoys his job teaching or should move on to something else, and so on for two hours. In the end we exchanged cell phone numbers and shook hands and thanked each other from making one another's day a little better. Another day in Israel: beauty, good food, strong coffee, death, fear, hope and friendship.
One month and counting
It's been a month since the fighting in the north began and I don't see an end in site. I am amazed at the responses of the people around me. One woman I work with had a husband who has been on reserve duty in the north since the beginning and a child in the reserve service and two that are still fulfilling their army service. I didn't know any of this until today. If it were me, I would have walked around hysterical and moping and made sure that every one knew. How can one function with so much to worry about? She seems to have the classic Israeli response, which is, "It'll be fine."
Now I am sitting in my living room. Behind me Yuval is playing the guitar along to an opera singer. Our friend is throwing herself a birthday party in the park near our home and someone hired an opera singer to seranade her. Yuval is the accompaniment. It should be a lovely party in a gigantic park on a summer night with lovely music guaranteed. Even in wartime on days when all flights to England have been stopped because of severe terror threats, the parties in Tel Aviv just keep going.
Now I am sitting in my living room. Behind me Yuval is playing the guitar along to an opera singer. Our friend is throwing herself a birthday party in the park near our home and someone hired an opera singer to seranade her. Yuval is the accompaniment. It should be a lovely party in a gigantic park on a summer night with lovely music guaranteed. Even in wartime on days when all flights to England have been stopped because of severe terror threats, the parties in Tel Aviv just keep going.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
I didn't know there were Jews in Utah...
Today at work we had a guest lecturer from the United States. During the course of the lecture, he heard my American accent in one of my comments and later, while distributing handouts, asked, "So where are you from in the States?"
"I'm from Utah."
"Woah. I didn't know there were any Jews in Utah."
I just laughed. As did most the audience. The woman next to me put her arm around me and said, "Well some of the Utahns become Jews later."
Yes, they probably do. I am not one of them. The woman who organized the lecture knows I am not Jewish. She spent a year living in Utah and knows that she can never fail to crack me up by using Mormon terminology in her Hebrew accent. "Our best friends from Provo are 'Jack Mormons' (a derogatory term for Mormons who don't practice). We didn't know many Molly Mormons (Mormons who are known - a little cynically- for how very righteous they are.)" It kills me every time to hear these words in a country where I think about 30 people probably know what they mean.
When people make the immediate association that because I am inIsrael, I must be Jewish and jump right in with the "I didn't know there were any Jews in Utah" I usually let them run with it and sometimes even play along because I happen to know there ARE Jews in Utah. Salt Lake City has a lovely Reform/Conservative synagogue- yes that's right- two in one, because there aren't THAT many Jews in Utah. The community there was lovely when me and my Israeli boyfriend were living in Salt Lake. They gave him a volunteer position at the Day School. I attended my first Bar Mitzvah, the son of one of the most amazing single mothers I have ever met. I baked Hamentashen (holiday cookies) with the kids during one of the spring holidays. So, if someone asks about the Jews in Utah, I'm more than happy to fill them in.
"I'm from Utah."
"Woah. I didn't know there were any Jews in Utah."
I just laughed. As did most the audience. The woman next to me put her arm around me and said, "Well some of the Utahns become Jews later."
Yes, they probably do. I am not one of them. The woman who organized the lecture knows I am not Jewish. She spent a year living in Utah and knows that she can never fail to crack me up by using Mormon terminology in her Hebrew accent. "Our best friends from Provo are 'Jack Mormons' (a derogatory term for Mormons who don't practice). We didn't know many Molly Mormons (Mormons who are known - a little cynically- for how very righteous they are.)" It kills me every time to hear these words in a country where I think about 30 people probably know what they mean.
When people make the immediate association that because I am inIsrael, I must be Jewish and jump right in with the "I didn't know there were any Jews in Utah" I usually let them run with it and sometimes even play along because I happen to know there ARE Jews in Utah. Salt Lake City has a lovely Reform/Conservative synagogue- yes that's right- two in one, because there aren't THAT many Jews in Utah. The community there was lovely when me and my Israeli boyfriend were living in Salt Lake. They gave him a volunteer position at the Day School. I attended my first Bar Mitzvah, the son of one of the most amazing single mothers I have ever met. I baked Hamentashen (holiday cookies) with the kids during one of the spring holidays. So, if someone asks about the Jews in Utah, I'm more than happy to fill them in.
Tour of the North
My mom and her husband came to visit us this spring and we took advantage of the time to travel around the country and show off the Galilee in its prettiest season of the year. We stayed in a lovely bed and breakfast in Rosh Pina. We had lunch at a restaurant in a small town overlooked by the hills of Lebanon. My mom lost a crown during that lunch and so afterwards we drove to Kiryat Shmonay to visit the nicest dentist ever. On our way down from the north, we stopped at the Mount of Beatitudes before driving through Tiberias. A few days later Yuval's parents took my parents on a tour of Haifa and the surrounding area.
Before this trip, all of these places now appearing daily in the news would have been meaningless to my parents. Now they read the news and see that the hometown of the nice Druze dentist is being hit almost daily by rocket fire, the town with the restaurant with the great pottery and the weird design has been hit. They followed up with the owner of the bed and breakfast and were relieved to hear she was in Tel Aviv. The hills above the bed and breakfast have been burned by fires started by rockets.
I joked with my mom that Hezbullah has strategically targeted all of their vacation spots. They must have known my parents were actually considering coming for another visit at some point. My mom, in a shocking about face from her previous requests that I return to the US said, "We still want to come visit again, even if we just spend the whole time in the basement or a bomb shelter."
Mom, is that you?
Before this trip, all of these places now appearing daily in the news would have been meaningless to my parents. Now they read the news and see that the hometown of the nice Druze dentist is being hit almost daily by rocket fire, the town with the restaurant with the great pottery and the weird design has been hit. They followed up with the owner of the bed and breakfast and were relieved to hear she was in Tel Aviv. The hills above the bed and breakfast have been burned by fires started by rockets.
I joked with my mom that Hezbullah has strategically targeted all of their vacation spots. They must have known my parents were actually considering coming for another visit at some point. My mom, in a shocking about face from her previous requests that I return to the US said, "We still want to come visit again, even if we just spend the whole time in the basement or a bomb shelter."
Mom, is that you?
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