Alternative lifestyles
Most of us live within our little boxes of preferences, styles and habits. But that can get a little boring, seeing those same faces, doing those same things, and visiting those same places. When was the last time you did something you never did before?
I’ll bet with the confidence of Minnesota Fats that there wasn’t another Israeli who spent the weekend like I did. Did anyone else do all of the following in an 18-hour period?:
- Attended services for the bat mitzah of one of our favorite families which took place in an Orthodox synagogue. The Torah reading was a women-run event with men sequestered behind the mechitza (separation line) in two cramped rows and forbidden to participate. Talk about role reversal. Every man should be forces to sit behind a mechitza one time, and you’d see those walls come tumbling down.
Sub-culture 1 – Orthodox men getting in touch with their feminine side
- Played touch rugby in the weekly neighborhood Anglo family event. Even though I strained my Achilles tendon, I scored the first ‘try’ in my two-month old career, and was penalized for throwing forward passes only a few times. Bring on the Super Bowl!
Sub-culture 2 – Immigrants to Israel who refuse to give up on their home sports.
- Attended with two adventurous friends a concert in Tel Aviv by heavy metal legend Ronnie James Dio. I think we were the only English speakers in the predominantly Russian-speaking crowd. I never knew how many pony- tails, goatees and Iron Maiden t-shirts existed in such a small country, not to mention the plethora of fishnet stockings and black leather mini-skirts. Despite the potentially threatening appearances, the crowd was polite, nobody was noticeably drunk or stoned, and the band rocked!
Sub-culture 3 – Middle class metalheads unite.
So, next weekend, don’t do what you usually do – step out of the box and try something different. And don’t forget the fishnets…
Simple Pleasures
For several years, I have made friends on the Internet, then travelled thousands of miles to be able to meet them in person. Last week, I had the pleasure of meeting a cyber-friend who lives in the same time zone as I do. Not only that, the distance from her home to mine can measured in minutes, not hours.
Savtadotty is a wonderful lady. Of course, I knew that before we met in Real Life; I’ve been reading her blog for months. Still, there’s always that element of the unknown, the first time you sit together with someone you feel you know, but don’t – not really.
We sat and shared stories about our lives and our aliyahs over coffee, homemade marmalade (hers) and fresh-baked muffins (mine). We talked about our families and our interests while working on our knitting. I take it as a sign of how well we got along that we both needed to go back and fix mistakes we’d made in our work. We’d been too busy enjoying one another’s company to pay attention to stitch count, increases, and cable rows.
A few quiet hours on a sunny day in autumn with a friend. We should all enjoy such simple pleasures in life.
Celebrity sightings
What do Bill Gates, Willem Dafoe, Phil Collins and Ronnie James Dio have in common?
They’re not afraid to come to Israel.
These days, celebrities from the US and Europe are beginning to trickle in, with the hopes of reaching pre-Intifada days when folks like Bono, Madonna, Elton and Sting would show up with alarming regularity.
Microsoft founder Gates only arrived for 24 hours, but had plenty of praise for Israeli high tech. Dafoe and his Italian bride attended the Haifa Film Festival last week, and he had plenty of praise for the Israeli film industry.
Heavy metal icon Dio plays here this weekend in Tel Aviv, and just wait for all the black t-shirts and tatoos to come out and play.
And middle of the road crooner/ former rock star Phil Collins is expected to fill the 30,000 or seats of Tel Aviv’s Bloomfield Stadium next week. You can’t listen to the radio without hearing him in phonetic Hebrew urging Israelis to come to the show or listen to the concert on the live radio broadcast.
I guess all those old rumors about his alleged anti-Israel slant are either false, or, like Sting and Peter Gabriel before him, he feels that he’s enlightening the population by coming to perform. And I’m sure the paycheck isn’t too bad either.
Whatever the reasons, welcome, o famous ones. And please tell Mick and Keith that they should make up their minds already and book a date.
Arik, maybe there’s still hope…
You really have to look for these gems while scanning the usual, depressing headlines. This one really made my day.
British Soldier Graffiti Found in Jaffa
POSTED by KARIN!
Amazing things happen in Israel everyday. A few months ago I was walking my dog (in the same place I walk her everyday–at the end of a valley in Jaffa where the old Jerusalem Jaffa line train once ran) and as she rooted around for a suitable spot, she led me to an unusual find: 60 year old graffiti left by British troops. As she started doing her business I noticed some penciled scribble and peered in closer to decipher the message.
It read as follows:
This is Not a Pissole!
Here is some fine work left by the likes of Curly Python and Broonie Demob found on the wall…and my pooch Tasha found some of her own poetic justice.
Birkat Cohanim
Walking up through the hill gardens above the Sultan’s Pool (Breichat HaSultan), my wife and I joined a steady flow of people heading in the direction of the Kottel (Western or Wailing Wall) to take part in the ancient ritual of Birkat Cohanim (the Priestly Blessing).
Heading into the Old City, we cut down past the Cardo and the Hurva Synagogue, heading for the spot to which Jews have directed their prayers over the millennia. Wanting to get a decent view and to avoid the crush, we headed for a vantage point overlooking the Wall, which, even though we arrived 45 minutes before the appropriate time, was already crowded.
The sound of a shofar echoed off the ancient buildings and groups of tourists snaked across the open space in front of the Kottel, now quickly filling up. Whilst usually there are many different minyanim (prayer quorums) running at any given time, reflecting the different ethnic backgrounds of the worshippers, today, in an unusual display of concordance, tnes of thousands of worshippers joined together in just one service, led by an elderly man with an even older sound system which alternately boomed, crackled and faded.
5 minutes before the “main event”, almost as if some higher being was watching over us, the thin drizzle which had seemed intent on ruining everyone’s day out, made way for the sun which glinted off the Golden Dome of the Rock.
Sukkot is one of the 3 Pilgrim Festivals on which Jews made the journey to the Temple in Jerusalem on foot with the various offerings that were required of them. The Cohanim, descendants of Aaron who performed the Priestly duties in the Temple, bless worshippers every day as part of the morning prayers. It has become traditional however to gather at the Kottel on Sukkot and Pesach to bless the people en masse.
The Cohanim cover their heads with their Talit (prayer shawl) and facing the gathered crowds chant the blessing:
“May the Lord bless you and guard you; May the Lord cause his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; May the Lord lift up his countenance to you and grant you peace”.
Looking around me I see black hats and furry shtreimels, baseball caps, knitted and velvet kippots and the odd bare head. I see sheitels and snoods and kangols and falls, long and short sleeves skirts brushing the ground and up above the knee. I hear Hebrew, Yiddish, English and French. My fellow worshippers are Jews from all over the world and represent the entire religious spectrum. There is something very special about taking part in an ancient ritual with such a huge and diverse crowd. I always get an emotional kick out of having chosen to be here at the focal point of our religion – I really meant it when I sang “LeShana HaBa BiYerushalayim” over all those years.
Chag Sameach,
Gilly
Cross posted at If I forget thee…
Louis the scooterer
This whole “travel idea” began, because of “those
people” who told me that I’m crazy to “drive in Israel”! ?
that was when I first arrived on Aliya – on 31 Oct 1999.
SO my mission or (mishugass) — is that I want to drive on “every road”
and visit “every place” [where permitted]? on my scooter.
Every direction, NEWS = [north.east.west.south],
and (during the rain-season in a cheap-rent-car.)
Most of my trips are spontaneous, and a few have been “planned”!
and its ongoing and going-on and must NEVER end.
Hi, I live in Netanya and ride all around Israel on a scooter, and have
some interesting numbers to play with:-
I am 1 single male, riding a 2 wheel
scooter for more than 5 years now,
I have been to 4 seas, the Kinneret, Med, Red and Dead
and now the numbers jump -
I have travelled more than 80,000 kilometers,
[yes EIGHTY THOUSAND] kilometers,] on a
50 cc scooter,[ my sixth now].
I reckon I take 2 minutes to ride 1 kilometer SO I’ve sat on the saddle
for 160,000 minutes and each minute I’ve seen at least 2 nice “things”
SO thats about 320,000 nice things??
Has anybody out there seen 320,000 nice things lately ??
1 question: -is about 500 birds flying = to ONE “thing”
OR 500 “things” ?
or a herd of 100 camels = 1 thing ??
I have been to hundreds of ”places”, and spoken to thousands of people, and add to the millions of experiences.
I have been on ”all-sorts” of roads, excellent highways, back roads,
sand roads and tracks.
I have seen hundreds of good petrol-stations, many with coffee-shops, and little supermarkets attached.
I have seen thousands of good drivers, YES a few BAD ones as well.
By the way, more than 15 other scooter riders have said they want to ride with me —
NONE have as yet !
SO, as 1 male on a 2 wheel scooter – I continue…..
Anybody out there who wants to read more, e.mail louisdrinkingt@013.net
Happy Rain Day
Today is the first day of Israel’s rainy season, at least here in Jerusalem, and for me when it rains Jerusalem becomes a different movie: instead of an action-filled Mediterranean caper it becomes a gritty British drama, coloured grey rather than golden, with puddles and people in cars staring through steamed up windows.
I love the rain. It reminds me of England without me actually having to be there, visiting my parents and having to field questions about “my life” and whether I still love living in Israel, a question that amazes me since I have been here over 11 years, and I think it can’t be dismissed anymore as “a phase she’s going through”.
Anyhow, back to the rain. I just walked home from a friend’s place, refusing her offer of an umbrella or a hat. What’s a little water? But then, I’m English by birth, I know that water can’t hurt me. However, the streets, previously bustling, were suddenly empty, only a few brave souls under umbrellas, the rest peering from doorways as if the heavens were sending down thunderbolts rather than cleansing, refreshing raindrops.
I love the smell during the rain, and the streams of water running down the streets. I like feeling the rain on my face, the dampness in my clothes, the contrast when I get inside and suddenly all is dry and warm. I like walking in puddles with my boots on. I like having a bath without too much guilt, knowing that as I drain it the Kinneret is being refilled, even if only slightly (to see the current water level, go to http://my.ynet.co.il/pic/kineret/).
Rain in Hebrew is “geshem” and I was puzzled when I first learned the verb l’hitgashem, which is from the same root as rain, but means something like “to make real”. “l’hitgashem et hahalomot” is to realise your dreams. How wonderful, I thought, because rain is very real, something you can touch. Rain is not an abstract idea or concept, rain is definite and beautiful, it feeds and nourishes the land, fills up our water sources, cleans off the dust that has been settling upon us here on the edge of the desert all through the sticky summer. Rain gives us a fresh start, and we should be out in it, stamping through puddles, turning our faces up to the sky and feeling it on our cheeks. Don’t stay indoors, get out there and get wet. Happy Rain Day.
Between holy and regular
I always get a kick out of Yom Kippur in Israel.
Unlike in the US, where it felt like being a member of a secret club – walking to shul and fasting while everyone else carries on with their daily lives – in Israel, the whole country changes.
Hours before, as the holiday approaches, traffic has almost ceased to exist, and everyone’s inside their homes. It’s like a scene in one of those disaster movies where the houses and cars remain unscathed, but all humanity has been vaporized.
Juxtapose that with the evening hours after Kol Nidre – the streets suddenly become swamped with every neighbor you haven’t seen the whole year – kids are riding down the median strip on bikes and scooters, and it’s like a neighborhood carnival without the cotton candy.
Yom Kippur day is similar in the late afternoon – with the synagogues and the streets both full with Israelis observing the holiday in their own styles.
Sunset comes, the shofar is sounded, and at some point later, the first car starts its engines. The bikes and the pedestrians, for a short spell, compete with the new invasion of automobiles, but within a half hour or so, technology has won out, people go back to their 364-day ways, and the rhythm of the streets returns. The magic of Yom Kippur will have to wait another year.
Tel Aviv Signage
I see a lot of things around here that warrant a chuckle. I always say to myself, “Damn Harry, you should carry your digital camera with you wherever you go.” Luckily, this time I did.
I think I’ll pass on living on what I call “Take My Money” street and shopping at “Shams.”
It’s shame that my battery was dead by the time I got to the “Launbry Place.”
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