The Numbers Game
Who knew there’d be so many numbers to keep track of? And I’m not talking about useful numbers that I ought to memorize (like the one on my Israeli ID). I’m talking about small, everyday numbers that we use for measuring, weighing, and even telling time. There’s nothing like having to stop and calculate every time you look at a clock to remind you that you’re not where you used to be.
In Israel we use a 24-hour clock. After ten years here, I’m pretty fluent in 24-hour time, but for the first couple of years, I had to stop and think before it would sink in that 16:30 meant half-past four in the afternoon. Even now, I insist on wearing an analog watch, because I don’t want to have to make that minor adjustment every time I glance at my wrist.
The names of the days of the week are actually ordinal numbers; Sunday is Yom Rishon (First Day), Monday is Yom Shaynee (Second Day), and so on. This, of course, comes straight from the book of Genesis, when God created the world. Sometimes the days are not referred to by name, but by a letter, so that Sunday becomes Yom Alef (the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet), etc. Imagine getting an announcement from the school telling you that your meeting with the teacher is on Yom Hay (the fifth letter) at 17:20. It’s enough to make your head ache until you become completely familiar with the system. Having to stop and figure these things out reminds you that you’re not in step with everyone else.
Grades in school are also referenced by letters of the alphabet. First grade is kitah alef and it goes right on to kitah yud-bet (twelfth grade). It’s embarrassing when someone asks you what grade your kid is in, and you have to stop and make the calculations. Of course, as the year goes on you get used to saying it, but there’s always next year, when you have to memorize a new grade.
Probably the worst part of the numbers game is getting used to the Metric system. You buy gasoline by the liter and fabric by the meter. I may know that it is 100 kilometers to my in-laws’ house, but I won’t really “get” it until I know what that is in terms of miles (about 60). And it’s lots of fun to step on a scale and see a number below 100, until you realize you must multiply your weight in kilograms by 2.2 to figure out how many pounds you weigh. Over time, I have gotten used to these numbers, but some of them still don’t really sink in until I’ve translated them into terms I know.
What’s the forecast for today? Partly cloudy with a high of 29 degrees. The middle of winter? No, it’s a lovely summer day in degrees Celsius. What is that in Fahrenheit? Heck if I know; it’s hot but not unbearable. I have never bothered to learn the calculation for temperature. If I really feel I must know the exact temperature, I look at the thermometer (with markings for both Celsius and Fahrenheit) that’s stuck to my kitchen window.
Shopping brings its own hazards. How did I go from wearing a size 7 shoe to a size 38? European sizing in clothing is another adaptation I’ve had to make. In America, I would know right away what size jeans to buy for my seven-year-old daughter; here I either have to ask for help or take a peek at the tag in the clothes she is wearing. If I don’t have a list of proper sizes tucked into my purse, I can’t buy anything unless the intended wearer is with me.
I’ve always had a better relationship with words than with numbers. This constant need to calculate before I can process information frustrates me, and serves as a constant reminder of the “otherness” of everyday life here in Israel. When I reach the point where alot of thought is no longer necessary (as with the 24-hour clock and the days of the week), I feel that much closer to being acclimated.
This has also been posted on my website Postcards from Israel.
The Bonfire
A little story for Lag ba’Omer
An old man appeared out of the darkness and approached us. At least, he seemed old to my twelve year old eyes. Thinking back he was probably only in his fifties. Small, and dark, with bright, lively eyes, he was wearing a checked flannel shirt covered by a blue doobon coat, like everyone wore back in those days.
We were all girls, half a dozen or so twelve year olds and our fifteen year old scout leader. Most of us had sleeping bags draped around our shoulders. The boys had stayed behind to urinate on the embers of the fire. You didn’t waste good drinking water on a bonfire.
The old man went up to our leader who was noticeably taller and older than most of us, and obviously the boss. He said something to her that I couldn’t hear.
It was the eve of Lag ba’Omer, the thirty third day of the ancient tradition of counting the days of the omer, the harvest time, between the spring festivals of Passover and Shavuot.
During the Counting of the Omer, mourning traditions were practiced, with no celebrations allowed except for this one day, the thirty third – a celebration commemorating Rabbi Akiva and his students, and Bar Kochva’s brave revolt against the mighty Roman Empire. It also marked the date of the death of one of Rabbi Akiva’s students, another great scholar – Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai.
Most of us were pretty secular and we lived in a city that was known for its socialist tendencies, but Lag ba’Omer meant bonfires, and we were all for bonfires.
When we were little, we used to plan our annual bonfires meticulously for weeks ahead, carefully collecting the wood, mostly pilfered from building sites, choosing our spot, and picking out games. For one night a year, the grown ups allowed us to play with fire. It was too good to be true.
Now that we were older, we saw it as a welcome opportunity to stay out all night with groups of friends that included members of the opposite sex. We would sit together around the fire, playing games like Spin the Bottle, singing the old pioneer songs, and eventually, just staring into the flames, as they died down, and then laying our heads on the soft stomach of a friend, dreamily staring up at the stars.
Living as we did, up in the newer neighborhoods of Haifa, we were always in walking distance of the natural abundance Mount Carmel had to offer us – wadis (1), forests, and, of course, rocky open spaces, perfect for Lag ba’Omer bonfires.
This particular night was one of those crisp, cloudless nights that can be bitterly cold. We had planned to maybe sleep by the fire, hence the sleeping bags, but by one o’clock it was so cold that we were already considering calling it a night.
One of the boys came over to say he could hear some rustling noises near some bushes. Seeing that a few of the girls were getting jittery, the leaders decided to pack up and go. It was when we girls started to make our way on the path towards the road, leaving the boys and their leader to put out the fire, that we encountered the old man.
At first, our leader looked taken aback by what he had said to her, but she soon collected herself, grinning at us knowingly, and said to him boldly, in a clear loud voice, mocking an accent you didn’t usually hear in our well-to-do neighborhood, “Not for money and not for love”.
For weeks later I was haunted by her words. I hadn’t really felt threatened by the old man, but still I had admired her for the strong, assured way she had dealt with the situation. Too embarrassed to talk about it with anyone, I gradually managed to work out what she had meant, what the old man had wanted, and what he had thought we were doing out there with sleeping bags in the middle of the night.
___________________________
(1) Wadi – an Arabic word for a narrow valley between two mountains or hills.
Glitz, Glitter, and Glamour
Well, it was quite an evening for Israel, between Hanna Laslo winning “Best Actress” at Cannes and Shiri Maimon’s incredibly respectable fourth place finish in the Eurovision Song Contest.
If there had been an award for the nicest body and the bronzest breasts, Shiri would have won. She looked mah-velous — quite the resemblance to Mariah Carey, no?
Seriously, her song was good and she really belted it out well. One wonders, if it wasn’t for the “Israel factor” could she have won?
In the meantime, we’re gearing up for another big day. Everyone is waiting with baited breath for how Judy-Nir-Moses-Shalom is going to do as she greets the visiting First Lady Laura Bush.
Can she reign in her wacky personality enough to do the diplomatically correct thing? Are everyone’s fears justified?
Certainly Laura will be too diplomatic and tasteful to question her about the continually unfolding Madonnagate scandal….
Sing a Song
Tonight, many Israelis will be tuning in to watch the semi-finals of the Eurovision Song Contest (the finals will be held on Saturday night). Although I had never heard of this contest until I visited Israel, it has been going on since the mid-1950’s. Each of the participating countries sends one representative (an individual or a group). Two past winners of the competition are well- known even outside of Europe: ABBA, who won with their famous song “Waterloo,” and Celine Dion, who performed as a representative from Switzerland. Even Julio Iglesias (4th place in 1970) and Olivia Newton-John (4th place in 1974) competed in the ESC.
Israel first competed in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1973. In the ensuing 32 years, we have won the competition three times, in 1978, 1979, and 1998. Not only was winning an honor and a joy for our country, but since the winner of the competition hosts it the following year, our victories also meant revenue from participants and tourists who attended the contest (note: in 1979 we waived our right to host the competition).
Over the years, we have sent individuals and groups, adults and even once a child (let’s just say that that was not a rousing success), to compete in the Eurovision Song Contest. Each year, the song to be sung is played on the radio (over and over) and people enjoy debating its quality and chances for success. They also bicker over the selected performer, who has sometimes been chosen by a popular vote, sometimes by a committee.
This year, the people of Israel voted. A special television program featured each of the Israeli competitors performing their songs. We chose as our representative a lovely and talented young woman named Shiri Maimon. Of course, that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been any controversy. Originally Shiri was to perform her song in Hebrew. That was how she sang it in the TV special, which is what people based their votes on. Now, apparently aware that many of the other countries are sending singers who will perform in English, she has decided to sing the first half of the song in Hebrew, and the second half in English. Some feel she will have a better chance for success if more of the audience can understand the words to her song; others feel that singing in a language that is not her mother-tongue may weaken her performance. It will be interesting to see what happens.
This whole Eurovision process is like a microcosm of the Israeli approach to life.. We love to analyze, criticize, and argue about practically anything – and the ESC is no exception. In May, when the time for the Eurovision Song Contest draws near, people call in to radio talk shows, write newspaper columns, and post blistering messages on Internet forums. Each person has his or her own opinion on every aspect of the competition. But be assured, come ten o’clock tonight and the start of the competition, everyone will be rooting for our Shiri. They will cheer each time she is awarded the maximum number of points from each voting country. They will boo those countries who give her fewer points. And no matter whether she wins or loses, when it’s over absolutely everyone will say, “I knew this would happen.”
UPDATE: Shiri advanced to the finals! Here is a link to her performance last night: Video clip
Cross-posted on my website Postcards from Israel
Little Earthquake
Well, there’s a little earthquake going on in local politics. My town of Ra’anana’s legendary mayor Ze’ev Bielski, who we faithfully reelected by an outrageously huge margin only recently, has been tapped to head the Jewish Agency.
Those of us who love Ra’anana’s quality of life and have never lived in a non-Bielski-led town are a bit nervous to put it mildly. This happened really, really suddenly — and we can’t really fault Bielski for doing it to us, because the resignation of the current Jewish Agency chairman was so sudden.
And the job is perfect for him — he is the consummate shmoozer, and an effective administrator. What is terrible news for us is good news for the Jewish world as a whole. If anyone can get the Agency’s act together, it’s Bielski.
It’s a big national story, because it looks like our next mayor will be a guy who is even more famous — infamously famous — than Bielski.
His name is Uzi Cohen.
I looked around the web for a full-on description of the multi-faceted Uzi and lo and behold — the best overview was an an entry on Shai’s blog — which links to this profile from the Jerusalem Post. (Reading the profile, it appears that Uzi charmed the pants off of Larry Derfner, a pretty left-wing guy whose natural inclination wouldn’t be to like him. It looks like he couldn’t help it.)
Trying to look on the bright side, it’s not the end of the world for us if he’s mayor — his heavy-duty national connections have served us well in the past, and may do us good in the future. And he sure knows how to make a city look nice. From the Post piece:
Ra’anana, after all, is not some dead-end town, but rather a model of bourgeois living in Israel, much favored by Anglos. It is one of the most beautiful, best-cared-for, greenest, most prosperous cities in the country. Ra’anana even has big, green street numbers painted on all the buildings so you can actually find where you want to go – a unique touch in Israeli urban design.
“All of this is only because of Uzi. He’s a great man,” says Ben-Zvi Yosef, 41, working at “Fistok’s House,” a snack bar on Ra’anana’s main drag, Rehov Ahuza, a block from City Hall.
“He’s responsible for the appearance of the city – for all the parks, trees, bushes, flowers, street lighting, everything. He said he was going to build a lake in the municipal park and no one believed him, but he did it. Whatever people in the rest of the country think of Uzi, people who live in Ra’anana know the real story. You can see it with your own eyes.”
UPDATE: The city spokesman’s office just clarified — Uzi is definitely going to be mayor, but only for 60 days. She wrote: “Elections will be held for a new Mayor within 60 days of the resignation. The newly-elected Mayor will serve the remaining time of the tenure only, after which time elections will be held for both Mayor and City Council. The acting Mayor, Uzi Cohen, will serve as Mayor for the 60 day period.”
It’s going to be a fun few months in Ra’anana…..
MORE UPDATE: The buzz is that Uzi is waiving his temporary 60-day term and it will go to someone else (Link in Hebrew) No one knows who yet. Does this mean Uzi really doesn’t want to be mayor or is it a strategic move? Time will tell…
Just back
from the obligatory Yom Ha’atzma’ut (Independence Day) picnic. Being the sotzyomatim we are, we did not opt for a big event with the Hevr’e (what hevr’e?), but we did something we’ve never done before.
Can you believe that I’ve lived in Tel Aviv for twenty years and I’ve never seen the Yarkon River on Yom Ha’atzma’ut? It’s sort of out of bounds for snobby North Tel Avivis like us on Yom Ha’atzma’ut. Well today I saw it. My daughters finally got to see how most people spend Yom Ha’atzma’ut.
We did try to go to a real Yom Ha’atzma’ut picnic one year, with other people, but after crawling in a traffic jam for two hours and only reaching Ben Gurion Airport, about a third of the way, we gave up and headed back home, where we proceeded to have a lovely picnic on the living room carpet. Other years, we had picnics with friends on the roof of our previous apartment, and before that we used to go to a friend’s place near the beach to watch the air force and navy demonstration they used to have there.
Anyway, back to today, I made us all a nice little picnic, picked it tidily in a wicker basket (no barbeque for us), and off we rode, all four of us on our bikes, to find a spot on the bank of the river.
It was a bit of a shock at first, the park was scattered with dozens of little groups of people, all sitting around little tables amid clouds of smoke from burning meat (We’re vegetarians, in case you hadn’t cracked on yet. We don’t begrudge anyone else their animal flesh; it’s just that we don’t enjoy the smell or the sight of it ourselves), but being there on our bikes was great. We didn’t have to find parking. We didn’t have to get there early to save a spot. We could just cruise along till we found somewhere we liked. We settled for a lovely grassy spot under some eucalyptuses that we only had to share with one nice, quiet couple who had put up a tent. And the breeze from the river meant we couldn’t smell anyone else’s food.
The river itself wasn’t at its best. It was full of people on those little boats with the motors, and that had brought up all the mud. But the people on the boats seemed to be enjoying themselves no end, and so were the people barbecuing their meat on their ‘mangal’s, for that matter.
Another plus was that we didn’t have to stay all day. In two hours time we were home again, happy and well fed. Quite enough, thank you very much. Mind you I stink of barbeque smoke. Time for a shower.
This post also appears on my NEW BLOG! (That was a shameless bit of advertising if ever I saw one)
Close to Home
So it’s Memorial Day once more. The routine is pretty well-established in our town of Ra’anana — the memorial ceremony at the military cemetery, everyone standing silently with bent heads as the siren sounds, listening to the sad songs on the radio that are so familiar that they almost feel like a form of prayer.
Hearing these songs are extra sad this year since so many of them were written by Naomi Shemer and Ehud Manor, both of whom passed away this year.
What really touches me is seeing the schoolchildren heading off to school in the morning — first graders and high school students all wearing white shirts.
They will all attend solemn ceremonies in their school, memorializing the graduates of the school who fell in service of the country or as victims of terrorist attacks. The loss feels so real, so tangible, when you see the teachers mourning the soldiers as children who look just like yours do now.
That brings it all close to home.
A little bit too close to home.
Anyway, we’ve got a few more hours left to be sad. Then the pendulum swings around in this bipolar country and all of a sudden we’ve got to be all joyous and celebrate our independence — it’s time for dancing and fireworks in Ra’anana’s big fabulous park and tommorow — grilling lots of steak for the grownups and hot dogs and burgers for the kids.
The one-two punch of Memorial Day and Independence Day can get a little weird, when you’re experiencing the first day and planning for the second. You’re standing there listening to the siren, feeling all sad and solemn, when suddenly your mind flashes with worry: did I buy enough ketchup?
After living here for 12 years, it’s a familiar routine. And yet… this year feels a bit different, a bit more tense and stressful, with a cloud of impending doom hanging over it. As they step out of their daily routines and think about their nation, everyone is anticipating the disengagement in August worrying about how badly it will tear the fabric of the country apart. With the focus on fallen soldiers on Memorial Day, there was a lot of talk in the media today regarding will be done with the gravesites in Gush Katif.
And I’m sure that tommorow there will be a lot of focus on the Independence Day celebrations in Gaza, presumably the last for the families there.
For the record — I fully support the disengagement, but feel a great deal of sadness and empathy for the people who are going to lose their homes and communities, especially those who were born or raised there from a young age and didn’t come to this situation out of choice. I can’t blame them for not celebrating right now.
It’s going to be a long hot summer.
But hey, it’s still May and it’s almost Independence Day. What’s the use of starting the stress now?
For the duration of the holiday, I’ll put the worries aside, head for Park Ra’anana and enjoy the fireworks and the barbecue. I’ll think about the disengagement…and the calories…tommorow night.
Yom Hazikaron (Remembrance Day for the Fallen of Israel’s Wars)
Many come early in the morning. Some come with little folding chairs, others have with them buckets and brushes to clean up a bit before the crowds start coming. A soldier girl waits at the gate and greets each person with a flower and bottles of water. So no one should faint in the heat. It’s always so hot.
No one asks for directions. Everyone knows the way. Many have been coming here year after year on this day for over half a century. For some it is their first time. Each and every one of them would rather not be here. What would they not give to have been spared this?
Gradually the stream of people increases. By nine o’clock there is a steady flow. By ten o’clock the tension is rising as people begin to be anxious that they will be late, more and more of them passing through the gates all the time. They are from all walks of life, old and young, rich and poor, healthy and frail, Jews – Ashkenazi and Sephardi, religious and secular, but also Druze, Bedouin. United in grief, they make their way slowly along the familiar paths, under the unrelenting sun that does not know to distinguish them from the rest of us. By a quarter to eleven there are thousands flooding through the gates, a sea of people now rushing to get there in time.
And at one minute to eleven everyone is in place, each standing by the grave of a loved one. A hush falls. Any moment now it will start, the three-minute siren that opens the ceremony, the memorial service. For these are the families and close friends of the 21,540 fallen Israeli soldiers and members of the Israeli security forces. These are the people who pay the price.
This is the real Israel you seek. Come here on this day, for this is where it is to be found. Come and see them. They are all here, tens of thousands of them, and more. The parents who buried their children, never to dance at their weddings; the children who grew up not knowing their fathers, with no one to call “Abba” (Daddy); the wives who grew old alone with their memories of young handsome husbands, of love that was not destined to mature; the men who held their friends in their last moments, forever to ask themselves why they were allowed to continue their lives.
This is their day. On this day we share their pain with them. On this day we honor them and their terrible sacrifice.
_____________________________
Note: I first published this post on my blog on Yom Hazikaron in 2003. This year the number of fallen soldiers we mourn is up to 21,954 (according to this morning’s Yediot Aharonot print version).
You Know You’re An Experienced Israeli Parent When….
You don’t even blink when you get a call on your cell phone in the afternoon from your daughter’s classmate’s mom asking you to go out the next morning and buy 140 falafel balls and 30 pita breads.
Because you know that it’s going to be the day before Memorial Day and Independence Day and you know that your daughter’s kindergarten class MUST eat falafel on that day.
It’s practically the law. There can be no national spirit without falafel.
Gentleman… start your engines!
In the US, traffic lights employ the following pattern:
Red… green… yellow… red…
Having grown up with this system, I never gave much thought to whether or not it made sense… or whether it could be improved upon.
Here in Israel they have added the following convention:
Red… combination yellow & red… green… flashing green… yellow… red…
If you think about it for a moment, the Israeli traffic light cycle makes perfect sense on several levels.
When sitting at a red light it is helpful to have a moment’s warning when the light is about to turn green. The combination yellow/red serves this purpose admirably, and ensures that the first cars in line don’t waste precious seconds taking their feet off the brakes and getting their cars moving (thus causing the ‘accordion effect’ as traffic moves forward in a staggered line).
Also, having this short warning helps avoid the phenomenon of people using ESP and other less-than accurate forms of prophesy to anticipate the exact moment that the light will change to green. Just as in a drag race… everyone knows precisely when to stomp on the accelerator pedal, fair-and-square.
The other place where the Israeli traffic light sequence makes sense is at the end of the cycle.
Just before the light is about to turn yellow, there are first a few seconds of flashing green. This double warning before a red light helps eliminate that terrible moment of indecision when one has to figure out whether to try to make it through the intersection or not.
I have yet to meet an Israeli who felt he/she couldn’t make it through in time. The addition of the flashing green seems to have helped dampen this optimistic spirit somewhat.
Another innovation that has taken some of the indecision out of intersections… those without traffic lights, that is… is the relatively recent introduction of the round-about.
It has been obvious for decades that a four-way stop is incomprehensible to most Israelis. A four-way stop requires that everyone at the intersection employ a small degree of etiquette and tacitly agree upon who arrived at the intersection first… and who has precedence to proceed.
There are no words in Hebrew for ‘ettiquette’ and ‘tacit’ (at least none in current use).
Every single Israeli driver who ever approached a four-way stop arrived there first.
Moreover, every Israeli who ever approached a four-way stop is the only driver to have ever arrived at the intersection! If you question them under truth serum, torture or threat of death, every single one of them will insist that they clearly had the right-of-way.
It’s a cultural thing.
So, to deal with the over-developed Israeli sense of entitlement, the round-about was imported from Europe and points north.
The basic rule of the round-about is that the car in the round-about has the right of way over any car waiting to enter. This arrangement also requires a small degree of awareness that other cars exist… but the fact that one car is in motion and the other is not lends a certain, shall we say ’significance’ to the decision of whether to proceed or not.
Israelis may be somewhat self-absorbed on the road, but they are acutely aware of how the laws of physics will effect their mostly-stationary car if they creep out into the path of another vehicle already very much in motion.
Now, if only we could come up with a few equally effective innovations to deal with the the Israeli fascination with passing.
I’ve written a few times about how Israelis will do nearly anything to avoid being a ‘freier’ (sucker).
One of the ways this manifests itself is through the need to constantly move forward in traffic. The person at the front of the line is the clear winner… and everyone else is a freier!
If you leave a safe distance between yourself and the car in front of you, the car behind you will take this as an invitation/challenge to pass you.
I was talking about this phenomenon with a coworker and he explained that most Israelis can’t comprehend the concept of defensive driving. To their way of thinking if you leave a safe buffer zone in front of your car, someone will inevitably pass. If you slow down to create a new buffer zone someone else will also pass. Before you know it you will be stopped… or even traveling in reverse! You’d never get anywhere!!!
It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic!
For a few years now there has been an organization called Ohr Yarok (Green Light) whose sole mission is to change the driving culture in Israel. I wish them luck… because in my limited experience the only innovations that have any chance of success in changing any Israeli’s driving habits are those (such as the traffic lights and round-abouts) that are difficult or impossible to ignore/bypass.
Anyway… I’m off to work now.
Gentlemen (and ladies), start your engines!
Cross-Posted on Treppenwitz
Subscribe
Subscribe to Israelity via email:
Social Media
Categories
- A New Reality
- Art
- Blogging
- Business
- coexistence
- Crime
- design
- education
- Environment
- Food
- Foto Friday
- General
- health
- History and Culture
- Holidays
- Immigrant Moments
- Israeliness
- Life
- Medical Breakthroughs
- Movies
- Music
- Nostalgia Sunday
- Picture of the Week
- Politics
- Pop Culture
- Profiles
- Religion
- Social Justice
- Sports
- Technology
- Travel
- tv
- War
The Face of Israel Today
-
About Israelity
Free newsletter
Stories from ISRAEL21c.orgPopular Posts