One Night in Jerusalem

March 31, 2005 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General 

Last night I attended a wedding in Jerusalem. The groom, an Australian friend of mine who I met here in Israel, married an American, giving the wedding an American-Australian flavor (actually, the Australian flavor was more pronounced, especially with the groom donning an Australian Rules Football guernsey and guests kicking around a football). This is one of the great things about Israel: because you have Jews from so many different countries and backgrounds, weddings have their own unique flavor, as they incorporate different customs from different countries.

But this post is not really about this particular wedding, or weddings in Israel in general. It is about what happened to me after the wedding, and what this says about Israel and Israelis.

I leave the wedding at around 11:30pm, and make my way to my car. Now I should probably explain how my car’s security works. On my keyring, I have two separate “controls”: one contains a button for activating the alarm/locking the car and deactivating the alarm/unlocking the car; the other contains buttons for locking and unlocking the doors, independent of the alarm. In addition, there is a keypad inside the car, for inputting a code to enable ignition.

As I approach my car, I press the button for deactivating the alarm.

Nothing.

Hmmm

I press again.

Still nothing.

This is weird. This has not happened to me before.

And yet again.

What’s going on here?

Now panic starts to creep in. Here I am, in the outskirts of Jerusalem, at 11:30 at night, far from home, and I can’t even get into my bloody car. Or can I?

I have an idea. I press the button for unlocking the car, and a familar sound breaks the night’s silence. The car is unlocked. Unfortunately, a second later, a much more audible sound is heard. The alarm!!

Other departing guests stare at me, some guy in a car, with the alarm blaring, who, in their mind, may not even own it. Although I suspect my skullcap probably gives away the fact that I am no car thief.

I enter the car and sit down. The alarm stops after about 10 seconds.

Now what? Hey, wait, I have another idea.

I enter my code and start the engine. Phew! The engine starts.

So does the alarm.

D’oh!

So I am faced with a choice. I can, theoretically, drive home, but with the alarm blaring the whole time (I live about 30-45 minutes away). Of course, that would not only be annoying to me and all other drivers, but would probably result in me being stopped by the police. Or I can try to deal with this now.

I decide to drive. I am tired, and it is late. I drive down the road, to a more remote area, but then stop, realizing that this is not a good move. I need to somehow deal with this situation now.

As I am contemplating my next move, a bald-headed, tough looking guy knocks on my window. I open the door. He asks me, in Hebrew, what the problem is.

I cannot disable the alarm.

Is this your car?

Well, it’s my company car. The company leases it for me.

Give me your keys and I’ll see what I can do.

Now, in most other countries, I would never just hand my car keys to some strange, tough looking guy in the middle of nowhere. I would be too afraid. But in Israel, I feel differently. Crime is certainly lower than in most places, and I am used to Israelis bending over backwards to help someone in distress. So I hand over my keys without blinking.

The man takes my keys and starts playing with the button to deactivate the alarm. He is no more successful than I was. He then asks me to open the car bonnet. I ask him:

Do you think you can disable the alarm?

Well, I have stolen a few cars before.

Really?

Yes.

So here I am, having given over my car keys to a man with experience in stealing cars. Yet I am not overly concerned that he will pull a knife on me and steal mine.

The man tries to see what he is doing in the pitch black, but has no success. So he asks if I have a number for the car leasing company. I retrieve it from the glove box.

Can you also give me your phone?

I oblige.

Now the man not only has my car keys, but also my phone.

He dials the number and requests that a service van be sent to assist me. He patiently describes the problem, and informs the woman on the other end our exact location. He then hands back my phone and keys, and asks if I have a cigarette.

No, sorry. But if you find one, I wouldn’t mind one either.

The man laughs, wishes me luck, and disappears into the darkness.

Approximately 45 minutes later, the service van arrives. I go over to the technician, explain the problem, and he proceeds to replace the battery in the control. The old one was flat (have they heard of providing spare batteries with their rental cars?!)

As you can see, the story had a happy ending. Sure, I am extremely tired today, and somewhat peeved that I was delayed by 1 hour because of a flat battery in the car alarm control. But the point of the story is to give you an insight into a great feature of life in Israel: complete strangers are willing to bend over backwards for you, and, consequently, you are willing to place your trust in complete strangers. And while this is not unique to Israel, I believe it is certainly more prevalent here than in any other place I have ever lived or visited.

(Cross-posted on Israellycool)

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For chowhounds only…

March 29, 2005 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Food, General 

We all have our secret food places. The joint with the best burger. The best shwarma. The best falafel. Now, while we think that these places are the “best kept secret” more often than not, hundreds, if not thousands of people feel the same way. I’m steadfast that one of my local pizza joints is the best pizza in Israel (only when eating in, not when it’s delivered), but for now, I am going to keep that one to myself. Although most regard Dixie in Tel Aviv the best burger in the country, I know of a place in Jerusalem that is far better, cheaper, less trendy and you can almost always get a table.

Falafel is an easy one. It’s that small joint in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Meah Shearim in Jerusalem whose address I don’t know and even if I did, I couldn’t tell you how to get there. Or maybe it’s that Yemenite place on Nevi’im street also in Jerusalem where you are always greeted with hot a falafel ball while you wait for your pita to be filled with salad, pickles, hummous, techina and zhug (chili pepper sauce.)

Hummous is a no brainer. I agree with all the experts that Ta’ami on Shammai street in Jerusalem is the best but Abu Shukri in the Old city isn’t far behind. I’ve been to several places in Tel Aviv that purport to be the best hummous in Israel but they pale in comparision. Okay, I concede some place on Yirmeyahu street was pretty damn good but the name escapes me.

Shwarma? I still haven’t found “the” place. But I do know one thing. Shwarma proprietors are universal in their hatred towards me. I love Shwarma. No, not that turkey or chicken garbage that passes as Shwarma these days but real lamb. I like it really well done and crispy. I ask for a little hummous, a tiny bit of zhug (a chili condiment) and a couple of chips. I don’t like putting in thirty different types of salads. My minimalist approach to shwarma eating is often frowned upon by shwarma stand proprietors. They usually give me the evil eye. I can read their thoughts.

“How dare you request just meat! This means I must give you more meat to make up for the space in the pita that the salad would fill! I should charge you more for this outrageous act! You shall be punished!”

The punishment is putting the hummous and the zhug at the way bottom of the pita so the last bite is super messy and unreasonably spicey. After the last bite there is obviously no more pita to douse the chili peppers blistering my mouth.

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Reality TV

March 29, 2005 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General 

Nothing like a sick day to catch up on TV watching.

When I first moved to Israel in the mid-80s, there was only one channel and a dearth of American programming. We’d wait all week for that lone episode of LA Law. In fact, we had to tune into Jordan’s English-language station in order to watch B-grade made-for-TV movies, and an occasional classic like The Graduate.

Thankfully, those days are gone. I’m not even talking about all the TiVo equivalents available here that enable you to program your own station. Just the basic cable packing from the Golden Channels had me warm and fuzzy, as I was able to reconnect with reruns of some of my favorite guilty pleasures of the last few years.

Before the kids started coming home from school, I managed to view episodes of Boston Public, the Gilmore Girls and Chicago Hope (from the Christine Lahti years).

Then, being a music freak, I always tune into VH1 a few times to see what’s showing. Israel provides the European version of VH1 which is infinitely inferior to the American edition. However, the one saving grace is the abundance of old video clips they run from London’s The Beat Club – recorded mostly in the 60s and 70s.

I caught a quaint lip-synced version of Manfred Mann’s “The Mighty Quinn” and a hilarious 1979 clip of Supertramp singing that jaunty song that starts “Take a Look at my girlfriend..” (It’s perplexing how any of them had girlfriends to sing about – as they epitomized the unwashed, hippie ethic that was quickly headed to extinction thanks to the spewing bile of The Sex Pistols and The Clash.)

The afternoon and early evening saw a couple reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond and King Of Queens, and by then, the combination of the flu and too much TV had turned my brain to mush.

But I couldn’t resist flipping through the three different nightly news programs to hear about the referendum bill failing and the plans for disengagement going full steam ahead. Nothing like a reality show to bring a sick boy back to life.

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When Israeli eyes are smiling

March 27, 2005 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: General 

I love the Irish.

The Irish in Tel Aviv were enjoying Purim yesterday. Purim is a Jewish holiday which celebrates the foiling of a plot against the Jews by the wicked Haman.

It has been said that most Jewish holidays have the same basis. They tried to kill us all, let’s eat. The Irish are equally consistent. It’s a holiday, let’s drink.

Full story from The Irish Times.

The Israel-Ireland World Cup qualifying match (that’s soccer for you Americans) was held last night in Tel Aviv. Roughly 3000 Irishmen and women came upon Tel Aviv in one big swoop. The Irish football fans are known for their undying dedication to their team and will follow them anywhere to support them. Tel Aviv, to their credit, welcomed the Irish with open arms. Some say that they overcompensated a bit, but after spending yesterday in Tel Aviv, I quickly realized nothing could be further from the truth. It was nice to see Irish flags waving over hayarkon street . The weather was beautiful and the beach and promenade was packed with Israelis and Irishmen alike. The cultural differences were apparent though. The Israelis were enjoying coffee in the cafes that line the beach while the pubs across the treat were filled to the brim with the Irish with glasses…well..for a lack of better expression…filled to the brim. But it wasn’t a completely segregated scene. I saw many Israelis reveling and shmoozing with the Irish folk in the bars and one too many pasty Irishman soaking in the sun’s rays on the beach. I also witnessed random Israelis approaching green-clad Irishmen and striking up conversations. The vibes were great, and for a moment, I felt transported back in time several years ago when the streets were packed with tourists and there was a constant feeling of positivity in the air.

Simply put, it was just a damn great day.

The game ended in a draw last night, with Ireland scoring in the first couple of minutes and Israeli player, Abbas Suwan scoring in the last thirty seconds to tie it up.

UPDATE: Check out the blogs of Shai, Lisa and Imshin for their impressions of the day.

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Purim

March 25, 2005 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Holidays 

We had such fun today! Dizengoff Street was very crowded. There were loads of people, many in fancy dress, but not enough. I don’t see how you can go to a fancy dress carnival without even a symbolic silly hat or something. Any way, it was pretty hectic. There were stalls and things at the edges and Brazilian dancers. We managed to see some body painting going on before we fled. You know me and crowds, not good friends. And our visitors from England – we didn’t want them completely shell shocked.

We were a party of ten, our cousins, my brother, and us, and we’d come in two taxis and a scooter. But getting there turned out to be the easy part. The problem was leaving. No taxis to be found, we eventually got a bus to north Dizengoff, where we went for a hummus lunch at Hummus Assaf, our favorite.

It was a beautiful day, lovely and sunny. Not too cold, not too hot, just right, and most important – no rain. Amazingly, we’d managed to get everyone at least slightly dressed up. Even Bish had this horrible blond wig on. It went well with the stubble on his chin! He looked rather forbidding, but he still managed to get on like a house on fire with my cousin’s youngest daughter. There are three of them, and they all got rides on Bish’s scooter. Plucky parents!

The girls seemed to get on fine with my two, eventually, after the ice broke a bit. My girls started to discover what I have known all along – that their English is far better than they realize. Their problem was understanding their cousins’ London accents. Not quite the same as Hollywood sitcoms.

After lunch we went for a walk along the Yarkon River, which was hopping. Loads of people, walking, riding bikes, rowing. Hearing music from the other bank we made our way over towards the crowds we could see. They were selling Irish beer and they had bands playing Irish songs.

You see, tomorrow night there’s a big soccer game in Tel Aviv between Israel and Ireland. Tel Aviv is apparently full of Irish fans. We even spotted a few at the happening in the park. They got them up to sing ‘It’s a long way to Tiperrary’ and have a drinking contest.

So there were stalls and things there. We particularly liked the mock sumo wrestling. It’s good – two people from the crowd put on suits that make them look (and weigh) like sumo wrestlers and then they have a go at each other.

I’m so glad we took them out. We usually steer clear from crowded events and today really was fun, even Dizengoff.

No photos. I forgot the camera, as usual.

My sister had our cousins over for dinner this evening. I’m afraid we must have worn them out, because she rang to tell us that the girls were passed out on the couch. Serves her right for not inviting us!

Cross posted on Not a Fish.

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