Light up the sky
Filed under: General, History and Culture, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness
Driving into Jerusalem this evening, we were treated to an array of firecrackers lighting up the sky over our general neighborhood. We couldn’t quite figure out where they were coming from at first, but given that we’re in the period of the nine days before Tisha B’Av, it was clear that they weren’t coming from a wedding hall in Talpiot, as weddings aren’t held during this mourning period. As we approached our ‘hood, it became clear that they were coming from Beit Safafa, a nearby Arab neighborhood where someone, somewhere, was probably celebrating something.
It isn’t an unusual happening to have firecrackers going off in our neck of the woods, particularly during the spring and summer months. It starts with Purim, when the noisy merrymaking includes firecrackers, although local rabbis have been prohibiting their use after the number of injuries goes up during the three-day holiday. Then it continues into Yom Haatzmaut, with massive displays in local towns and cities as a sign that Yom Hazikaron/Memorial Day has ended and the celebrations of Yom Haatzmaut, Independence Day, can begin.
But once the merrymaking starts in the spring, it continues unabated into the summer, with nearly every event, whether it’s the nightly weddings, outdoor summer concerts or just general solstice revelry that brings out the fireworks. It’s sort of the westernized version of firing a gun into the air during a celebration, a local Middle Eastern custom, or the slightly tamer version of the Israeli love of fire scultpures, witnessed in Scouts ceremonies, when an entire banner or symbol will be set ablaze in the evening light.
Whatever the reason, once you get over being spooked by the sound, which can sound a lot like a bomb — tfu, tfu, tfu — you head outside and look up at the sky for the latest pyrotechnic display. Fun for free.
Black metal in the holy land
Admittedly, I watch a lot of TV. Some folks might say too much. Those folks are should shut up. I have my shows that I watch on a regular basis and when I’m not watching them I surf on over to channel 24, Israel’s music channel. I can’t stand the absurd amount of mediocre folk and aging rock starts that litters the screen during the daylight hours and prefer watching the specialty shows. By far, the best is the “Alternative” show shown late at night. I always find nuggets of Israeli genius in the lo-fi videos and fringe acts that otherwise I would never see. 
Saturday night as I was coming down from my usual weekend eating binge I was immediately straightened out when I witnessed for the first time Israeli Black Metal. Yes, there is such a thing. Black Metal is a Satan loving sub-genre of Heavy Metal that often blasphemes religion (usually Christianity) and loves all that is pagan. Normally this would comical but a couple of Norwegian bands took things a bit too far by committing murder and burning down churches. When I was in Norway a couple of years ago I kept my eyes open for followers of Black Metal but did not come across any. However, I did see a lot of trolls, Nobel Prizes, tall blondes, several Thor lookalikes and many fjords.
I saw a video for the band Arallu, who describe their music as Barbarian Mesopotamian Black Metal. The song was called “Jewish Devil” from the album “Satanic War in Jerusalem.” “Butchered,” the lead singer screeched his religion-condemning lyrics in both English and Hebrew among the backdrop of the Judean Hills and David’s Tower in the Old City. I was in awe. I HAVE to see this band live.
I wonder if Butchered had a bar mitzvah?
Garden woes
I’m ready for this shmitta year of ours to be over. Yes, I’ve been observing — more or less — this seventh year of rest for the land, mostly because it was the first time that I had a garden of my own and I was charmed and intrigued by the idea of learning about and following a new area of halacha.
But at this point, I’m over shmitta. I’m tired of not being able to plant new flowers, bushes and vines in my little patch of green. Sure, I’ve gotten by, found my loopholes by putting flowers in planters and pots, and placing them around the garden. That was an idea given to me by a rabbi friend who said the prohibition against planting is just for the actual soil of the land of Israel, not the potting soil used in ceramic pots.
My fingers are itching to get in some new succulents, to replace the red-leaf bush that mysteriously died in one corner and to figure out what happened to the parsley, basil and strawberries that didn’t quite make it either. Sure, I’ve been making do with weeding, trimming and cutting grass, but it’s not the same as getting your hands dirty in the actual soil of the land.
My new gardener friend at the local nursery has been commiserating with me, telling me to make do with fertilizing the lawn, and remarking that it’s a long year for all of us. In the meantime, he and I stroll around the plants in the nursery, talking about which will be right to plant come October, once Rosh Hashana is over.
Of course, by then I’ll be about eight months pregnant and won’t be doing much digging or planting, but there’s always the rest of the family. My free labor, I like to call them. And this way, we all feel that sense of satisfaction that comes from hard, sweaty work, and knowing that we’ve followed shmitta through to the end, and don’t have to worry about it for another seven years. By then, we’ll have had our fill of limes and nectarines, along with a new batch of parsley, basil and strawberries.
Slow and steady gold
Despite the numerous European championships won by Maccabi Tel Aviv, Israelis aren’t exactly known for their athletic accomplishments. At the most recent summer Olympic games in Athens four years ago, windsurfer Gal Fridman won Israel his first gold medal after 52 years of attempts.
The Beijing games are set to kick off in a matter of days now, and we’re dead set on picking our battles. One blogger astutely points out that we dominated the celebrations at July’s Mathematics Olympics in Madrid.
And we can always look back fondly at the accomplishments of the Ramat Gan Safari’s Tortoise Olympics, where a new world Sudanese giant tortoise speed record of one kilometer per hour was set, triggering wild celebrations involving flowered wreaths and enthusiastic monkeys.
The old parable about the tortoise and the hare earns added poignancy in this context. And besides, let’s not forget that Israel is a place that has much love for turtles, operating a very special sanctuary dedicated to the creatures in Michmoret – just a few hours by turtleback from Gal Fridman’s hometown of Hadera.
Foto Friday
My husband is one of those alarming adventure types. He’s always into some kind of action sport – either mountain biking, snowboarding, surfing, offroad motorbiking or paragliding.
I remember him leaping off a steep cliff on a paraglider some years ago. It was his first time, and he’d had no training that I could see. After about 30 minutes he yelled down to a friend as he circled above the cliff top – “So how do I land?”
You get used to it gradually. As well as the occasional hospital visits for broken fingers, stitches, torn ligaments, and a range of other – thankfully – minor injuries.
The one thing about these trips is that he gets to go to all sorts of places off the beaten track that most of us never get to see. On a recent offroad motorbike trip to the Negev, he came back with these beautiful pictures.
Makes me almost wish I’d gone with him… yeh right.
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