Bulls on Parade
I’m not sure where the phenomenon of the urban artistry of concrete/fiberglass animal painting comes from. It’s cool, don’t get me wrong, although I can’t explain why exactly, but I find it a bit odd. My first experience was with the painted cows in NY. I also recall gargantuan teddy bears all over the streets Berlin a few years ago (creepy!). I read something about pigs in Cincinatti (treyf!), moose in Toronto, sharks in San Jose and the absolute greatest idea ever…the Mr. Potato statues of Rhode Island.
I know that Tel Aviv had cows and penguins and Jerusalem had (and still does in a few places) Lions. I recall seeing Dolphins somewhere but can’t recall where… Herzliya? Raanana? My imagination?
In any case, Tel Aviv uber-blogger Imshin reports that fiberglass bulls have invaded Tel Aviv. Bulls? What connection does the bull have to Tel Aviv? Does the bull symbolize Israeli machismo?
I also found penguins troubling. The only place I’ve ever seen penguins in Israel was at the Jerusalem Zoo. It’s shame because we have several cool indigenous beasts in this biblical land that would make awesome street art. Someone needs to stand up for the ibexes, hyenas, jackals, hyraxes, hyaenas and wild boars of Israel. Okay, so wild boars might offend Jewish and Moslem religious sensibilities, but the rest can work. They deserve more.
What animal would you like to see on the streets of Tel Aviv or Jerusalem one day?
The photo on this entry was taken by Savta Dotty. Check out more photos of the Bulls of Tel Aviv at Safta Dotty’s flickr page.
UPDATED: I have been informed that use of the the bulls is in honor of the 70th anniversary of the Tel Aviv Stock Exchange. Still, give those cute hyraxes the respect they deserve.
Crossposted to The View from Here.
The pool hall
I’ve been taking my 11-year-old son to a pool hall in the center of town recently. Now before you go calling the Social Welfare Board on me, let me explain about this pool hall. It’s not quite like you think.
The first time we went, he demurred about entering, as the tinted windows suggested a dimly lit den of inequity. But he finally acquiesced, and when we entered, we found a brightly lit bustling establishment.
Granted, it wasn’t going to the opera. There are a dozen or so pool tables taking up the bulk of the room, and there’s a fair share of teens and older men sharpening their cues that you might not to run into in a dark alley.
But there’s also a family atmosphere to the place – with mothers and toddlers stopping in for snacks, 60s Beatles music alternating with the latest hip hop, teenage girls feeling comfortable enough to get their own table and giggle at missed shots, and observant folks with kippot on not feeling embarrassed to enter a ’seedy’ establishment.
Seediness is relative. At least in my suburb (recently described negatively in the British pop magazine ‘Q’ as ‘Truman Show cookie-cutter perfect”), I feel safe and at ease moving around anywhere, even the local pool hall. And my son is acquiring an education that appearances on the outside don’t necessarily match what’s inside.
He’s also acquiring a killer corner shot.
A Little More “Nuditity” Please
Archie Bunker, the protagonist of the massively popular 1970s TV sitcom “All in the Family” used to decry the increasing amounts of “nuditity” in the world that always seemed out of synch with his less than open-minded views.
I kept thinking about this classic malapropism as Jody and I attended a performance of the Pilobolus dance troupe where there was more than enough “nuditity” on parade to shock even Meathead, Archie’s liberal hipster son-in-law.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” as Jerry Seinfeld would say some twenty years later in an equally popular sitcom.
We of course knew that a Piloblus performance was not for the modesty-inclined. The troupe, fonded in 1971 at Dartmouth College, has long emphasized the pleasures of the dancing flesh.
But the advertisements in the Friday print edition of the Jerusalem Post showed the dancers in rainbow-colored skintight leotards, as did Pilobolus website’s home page. Jody had seen the group perform nearly twenty years ago at Hebrew University and was keen to relive what had been an inspirational evening. I figured there’d probably be some adaptation of the show’s dress code to cater to local mores.
So when the curtain opened at the Jerusalem Theater a few weeks ago and the four men and two women comprising the troupe appeared not in leotards, but clad only in loin cloths and (for the women) bikini tops, I was a little surprised.
But hey, I’m a modern guy, I can deal with a little “nuditity,” right? I was more worried about some of the other members of the audience. In particular, a religious-garbed couple in the row in front of us – he with a large knitted kippa, she in a tasteful wig – as well as our fourteen-year-old son Amir’s religious school principal who was sitting with his wife two rows in back.
In addition to the skimpy wardrobe, a Pilobolus show is defiantly erotic. The dancers contort themselves into pretzelated shapes that defy our conventions of what the human body is capable of. The repeated pairing of flesh upon flesh without the mediation of substantial amounts of fabric can’t avoid but conveying overt sexuality, even in one dance, for example, that clearly seemed to me to depict two insects in battle.
Set to rhythmic drums and world music from the likes of Brian Eno and The Talking Heads, the dancers of Pilobolus are at once exuberant and graceful; it is a feast for the eyes. After awhile, awareness of clothing (or lack thereof) faded away; it seemed natural. Like, why would dancers ever want to be encumbered by something as bulky as a leotard in the first place?
After a short intermission, we settled back into our seats to enjoy the second act. But what was that…was she? Were they…oh my…
The women had dispensed with their bikinis and now were completely topless. I squirmed a bit uncomfortably in my seat, feeling that somehow my feelings must be representative of the wig wearer in the front row and Amir’s principal behind me.
Oh yes, did I mention we were seated in the second row?
Then I heard nervous giggles. I looked around. There were children in the audience. Who brings their pre-teens to an R-rated dance performance?
Which got me wondering: was this appropriate? Was the nudity really necessary…in Jerusalem in particular? Would the Pilobolus performance create unnecessary friction, I wondered? Would word get out and lead to black-clad boycotts outside the theater the following night? Maybe the Chief Rabbis would go so far as to shut down the second performance?
And: would it have been so hard to leave those bikini tops on for just a few more minutes?
Yet, despite the nudity being so decidedly in your face, so to speak, no one got up to leave. People seemed to be truly enjoying themselves. When the final number launched – an Esther Williams-esque slip and sliding acrobatic skinny dip on a wonderfully water-flooded stage – the audience was on its feet cheering and clapping. Las Vegas had arrived in the Holy City and Elvis had not left the building.
And it occurred to me that rather than worrying that Pilobolus might prove incendiary, I should be applauding the fact that Jerusalem can support events like this and that people come out in large numbers to attend (the shows were completely sold out).
For Jerusalem, despite its reputation for moving increasingly towards ultra-orthodoxy, is still quite the cross-cultural and post-denominational melting pot. Maybe more so than ever. And that’s a good thing. For Jerusalem…and for the entire Jewish people.
And so I joined in the fun, swaying to the music as the dancers splished and splashed their way through several curtain calls. Because underneath our clothes, we’re all the same, right? What could be a better rallying point for Jewish unity!
Hey Arch, bring me some more of that there “nuditity.”
Brian Blum is a journalist and entrepreneur. His latest startup Bloggerce offers publishing services to budding bloggers. His weekly column about “normal” life in Israel appears at www.ThisNormalLife.com. A podcast version is available on iTunes. He lives in the Baka neighborhood of Jerusalem with his wife and three children.
Mitzpe Ramon
Mitzpe Ramon in Israel…WHAT? WHERE ? and HOW ?
When you travel by bus to Eilat, the bus stops for maybe 30 minutes…that is NOT enough time to see ANYTHING.
AMAZING! INCREDIBLE! and more..
This incredible place in the NEGEV… (Negev means Desert),
so when people say “The Negev Desert” they are doubly correct ?
(they are actually saying “The Desert Desert” ? ?
MITZPE RAMON
MITZPE means “viewsite”,
and RAMON is from the Arabic word meaning Romans.
Mitzpe Ramon itself is a small town only a few dozen years old, but the RAMON CRATER under it, is only a few hundred million years old, and stretches for many kilometers in all directions, hills and sand and rocks of many different colours, and you can go and walk wherever you want to.
I planned a 2 nite stay, and there was so much to see and visit, so I stayed 4 nites in this incredible place… (and still never saw it all.)
When I first arrived in the town I didnt know whether to turn right or left, SO I carried on straight for a few hundred meters to come to this fantastic viewsite, and for a few minutes I just stood there gawking at the view of this magnificent giant crater.
I sensed that I and my scooter was being watched, and these IBEX were staring at me from the opposite side of the road, some of them only a few meters from me, and others were perched on rocks.
AT first I never saw them as they blend in with the “same coloured rocks” of the cliff?
At this time I never had a map, so I rode around and found the municipal office, where I was given coffee and some maps and brochures and more coffee, and suggestions of where to go, and I always know that I “cannot see everything”?
So off I scooted to the main viewsite, at Visitors Centre, an incredible building with displays and exhibits and in the “cinema”, I was shown a marvellous movie to explain about the place, which also has many exhibits of animals and insects plus more and even more, and also has platforms, and places from where to look-at-the-view(s), these breathtaking views, and there is also a restaurant and curio shop, everywhere with a view.
Many hours are needed in this fascinating district, so I rode on the beautiful walking promenade, always aware that the Ibex are “doing their thing”– perched on the rocks, and also walking next to the promenade, watching me and my scooter ? –and surely they will watch you.
I scooted around to the Sculpture Garden on the other side of the highway, and wondered what the artists were thinking when they made these sculptures. The views from everywhere always remain spectacular while I stare with binoculars and read the brochure – and imagine.
I rode in the real desert and found the Alpaca Farm, where Llamas and other animals are bred, which also takes a few hours to really explore, and getting close to the animals to feed them and pet them and enjoy.
I arranged a shorter drive [2 hours, instead of 4] in the desert in a TOMCAR, a real rugged desert vehicle with only 2 seats, with Safriel as driver and guide.
He explains many things as we drive over rocks and into ruts where nothing grows, and he drove close to Bedouin areas, who live in tents and they have new 4×4 jeeps, and animals roaming in enclosures, most fascinating, and he allowed me to drive this powerful desert vehicle.
I stayed 2 nites in the Youth hostel dormitory, which is a very pleasant place, but because of tourism being low (at that time), the dining room was not operating for breakfast, and I needed to find my own breakfast, (Not a problem for me, once I found a row of stores and eating places.)
The other 2 nites I stayed at a very “different” hostel, in a converted warehouse, the premises run by a dance group who chose to live in this rustic place instead of the big cities. A most fascinating place where dancers, and others, come to enjoy a tranquil existence away from the bustling big cities, and the large main hall area is filled with comfortable lounging-chairs and cushions on rugs, to sit comfortably to watch shows by dancers and performers from places all around the world.
A most unusual sleeping set-up in “indoor tents” and sleep on mats on the floor, again a most interesting place where it is easy going, even as I prepared my own breakfast, and mixed freely with dancing types and meditating types, and of course I learned a lot at this eye-opening place.
Also the sunsets and sunrises in different places, are SPECIAL events in that magic place.
While I did do a lot of visiting to sites, and many places in and around Mitzpe Ramon, definitely more visits are in planning…(especially a visit in the rain season).
SO I suggest you “google” Mitzpe Ramon, for full details about the crater, and the technical and geographical information, and info about other interesting places and things to see.
OOPs –dont forget to wear comfortable walking shoes.
Thanksgiving
Like the previous 20 years since we moved to Israel, we gathered this week for our annual Thanksgiving dinner with a group of American-born friends.
The food is always as close as you can get to the real American thing – a whole turkey (ordered in advance from the supermarket), stuffing, cranberry sauce (canned, imported from the US), pumpkin pie and sweet potato.
Standing in the checkout line, we invariably have to explain to curious shoppers why we’re buying a whole turkey (a fairly uncommon occurence here).
The crowd has changed somewhat since the beginning of our Thanksgiving gatherings, with a couple families having moved back to the States. However, there are still three originals, and we’ve gradually replaced those that gone back.
It’s a fun, yet bittersweet evening – our collective remembrances of Thanksgivings growing up, watching or playing football, the cool, brisk weather, and most importantly, our families.
We left it all behind to build a new home in Israel. But it’s still nice to gather once a year and remember that we are also Americans. And Thanksgiving is a great holiday – nobody has anything bad to say about it.
So, here’s to one more common bond between Israel and the United States. It’s no coincidence that the words in Hebrew for ‘turkey’ and ‘thanks’ are nearly the same.
And don’t forget to pass the gravy…
Wanted, the Israel I used to know!
I’ve often wondered what ever happened to the Israel that I used to know as a young man, back in the late ’70’s early ’80’s. The country seemed so much calmer and simpler then. People were friendlier, even to total strangers. I got a glimpse of that Israel the other day on the train from Akko to Tel Aviv (yes, it was on time!) and it made me long for just a little of what we had back then. A soldier from the Border Patrol got of the train near Netanya forgetting to take his mobile phone. After a while the phone rang. At first none of us sitting there answered, hey, we live in a country where it has been known on a few occasions to use these things to trigger off bombs! In the end, the young woman sitting next to me answered the phone and on the line was the soldier who had realized that he was missing what has become somewhat like an extra part of our bodies, his cell phone! With little hesitation the people around us started to see how they could reconnect this soldier with his phone. Where does he live? Can I get to him? Can he get to me? In the end, a lovely woman who was going shopping in Tel Aviv made arrangements to meet the soldier’s friend, a total stranger and get his cell phone back to its concerned owner. It made me feel good to know that we still cared enough about each other to do something so simple. I was warmed by the facted that while we might now be more cynical and less innocent than we once were, it’s not all gone the way of us not caring about one another.
Won’t get fooled again
So, the race is on as Israel gears up for yet another election which will determine who the next prime minister is as well as the makeup of the next Knesset.
With Ariel Sharon – at 77 – forming a new party called Kadima ‘Forward’, a half-dozen Likud lieutenants like Bibi Netanyahu and Shaul Mofaz already scrambling to take over the party leadership, and Labor still dazed by the victory of its wayward son Amir Peretz over Shimon Peres in its leadership race, I’m reminded of the pivotal line in The Who’s ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’.
“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”
The outcome of this spring’s elections will undoubtedly result in another limping coalition of partners tugging each other apart at the seams, with the same old leaders making the same old back room deals.
The only aspect to look forward to actually, is the campaign commercials for the fringe parties like the taxi drivers’ party, the Green Leaf party for legalizing pot, and the sentimental favorite – the battered husbands’ party. Now that’s entertainment.
However with a new law requiring a party to receive at least 2% of the vote in order to gain a Knesset seat, these parties are even less likely to break bread in the Knesset cafeteria next spring alongside Shimon, Tommy, Arik and the rest of the aging Israeli leadership.
So make some popcorn, grab a comfortable chair, and get ready for Israel’s version of the Gong Show.
Where are they now?
Even after nearly 11 years here, I don’t understand the whole phenomenon of the stocking of the shelves of our nation’s supermarkets. It’s like there’s some sort of conspiracy consortium that decides which non-Israeli products should be sold, and for how long.
Just when you’ve started to relax, secure in the knowledge that you can easily gratify your Hershey’s Kisses craving, suddenly they vanish from the shelves. The first time something like this happened, I figured the store had simply run out, and would order more. Call me optimistic.
Then I noticed that certain things, like good old regular in-the-yellow-box Cheerios disappeared. But not just from one store – from every single store that had ever stocked them. These were not “sister” stores, or markets that were part of a chain. Just random stores. And wham, just like that, they were gone.
Who decides these things?
I really don’t think it’s fair that some evil, sadistic bureaucrat the mysterious Food Czar has this kind of power over us. Who is s/he to decide to deprive my daughter of her favorite brand of instant mac & cheese?
It’s gotten to the point where I’m leery of going to the store, list in hand. Who knows what will be missing next?
And, as we say here, may this be the worst problem we face. We’ve come a long way since the days when only wealthy neighborhoods had luxuries like sour cream in stock at their local markets.
But I still want my Kisses back.
This rant piece is something you won’t find at my website, Postcards from Israel.
So Why Stay?
Often, my entries are jaded jabs at the system and disgruntled commentary. When I’m feeling reflective, however, I’m forced to ask myself:
What keeps us here in lieu of the headache, hassle and bureaucratic hell?
It’s home – the short answer. Nowhere else has felt this much like home. In fact, the entire concept of “home” comes into question, I believe, when a person has grown up in one place and yet finds the feeling of well being in another place altogether. Almost like a calling or longing. Very deep.
Medium length answer: Gorgeous, sea-side sunsets, sleeveless dresses and sandals in November, an un-bridled sense of freedom, subsidized education, not being afraid of walking through the park after dark, subsidized agricultural and dairy goods, not feeling terrified of letting my son out of sight on the playground or in public.
The long answer shortened: To loosely borrow from David Horovitz’s A Little Too Close To God, The Thrills and Panic of A Life in Israel , being alive at a time when Israel actually is in a state of statehood, impinges a sense of obligation regarding dwelling here. And no, I’m not religious. That’s the more philosophical, not hugely in-depth but could lead to a lengthy discussion answer.
Stop on by the Drive Thru. You may be glad you came!
The deep south
Every once in a while, it’s good to get away and this Thursday found Mrs. G and myself heading out of Jerusalem, hanging a right at the Dead Sea and going (pretty much) “Yashar, yashar, ad hasof” til we hit the bright lights of Israel’s southerly city, Eilat.
The occasion was a special one; our first anniversary and we’d chosen to spend a few days away from it all – just the two of us with no mobile phones going off, no cooking for Shabbat, no need to stand on ceremony for friends and family; just a decent hotel (the Dan Panorama booked very efficiently through Zion Tours), a couple of decent books and plenty of good food, long walks and most importantly, sleep.
Eilat is a short jog over 300 kilometres from Jerusalem and despite the poor lighting and only one lane in each direction, there’s no reason why the trip should take more than 3 1/2 hours if you obey the speed limit all the way. We arrived shortly after 7 p.m. and, having dumped off our stuff headed for the dining room (I’m taking my beloved out in Jerusalem for a decent meal too – you can read about that later in the week…..). 40 winks and a shower later and we were ready to go out on the town.
No visit to Eilat is complete without a visit to the Monkeys bar on the boardwalk – who could possibly resist the overpriced cocktails and past-their-prime rock bands mixed with an eclectic clientele? Seriously though – the Monkeys is such an Eilat spot that when a footy friend told me that he’d met his fiancee in Eilat, it wasn’t even impressive that I guessed that their eyes first met across the dance floor their on a Saturday night.
Exhausted after too long a week, we didn’t last long, heading back to the hotel in the cool night air. It was wonderful to see the boardwalk packed so late in the season and gratifying to note that we’d missed the school trips which fill the place with hormonal 17 year olds strutting their stuff.
We had my ultimate lazy weekend – getting up late, strolling down to breakfast, getting stuck into a couple of semi-decent novels, walks along the front in weather that allowed for t-shirt and shorts but didn’t make you feel the need to jump in the shower afterwards – the perfect time of year to visit and lots of decent conversation. The stress just melted away.
All too soon, Saturday night rolled around and we were heading back to Jerusalem for a drink with our hilarious, never-lost-in-the-crowd mate Gils who is off to Australia for a couple of months. That was at Goldie – another new kosher bar in town which looks promising…
Shavua Tov,
Gilly
This was originally posted on the blog, “If I Forget Thee...”
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