Room 124
Image courtesy of Jerusalem Shots
Israeli bureaucratic institutions have been slowly but surely modernizing over recent years. You can get in and out of the infamous Interior Ministry in less than a day…and you don’t have to line up at 8:00 AM just to shove your way in through the heavily guarded front door.
The health funds now have computerized kiosks that print out the name of the doctor, his or her room number and the time of your appointment; a flat screen monitor tells you when it’s your turn.
Ditto with the banks and the post office where you can now kick your feet up and relax while you wait for your number to flash.
The tide of advancement, however, has apparently not yet washed over the shores of the Education Ministry which, naturally, is exactly where I had to be yesterday. I have been considering taking a tour guiding course; to be admitted I needed to have my non-Israeli diploma officially “approved.”
The Education Ministry’s building is a formidable mass; a wide arching wall of concrete with identical small window slats all facing towards a forlorn courtyard. Once inside, a spiral staircase winds its way to “Room 124″ – a tiny cubicle of an office where a lone clerk sits to satisfy the academic supplicants’ demands.
There is no brightly-lit waiting room, just a scattering of chairs along the walls and up against the staircase railing. To the Ministry’s credit, there is an old-fashioned paper number dispenser; when I first made aliyah 15 years ago, you just plopped yourself down and asked “who’s last?” A fight would inevitably ensue when someone arrived late and claimed that he or she was “here earlier” and was “after” some naive looking stranger who quickly disavowed any knowledge of the presumptuous intruder.
There were 17 people ahead of me – a true melting pot of Israeli immigrant society. I heard smatterings of foreign tongues – Russian, Arabic, French, Spanish, and of course English.
When my turn finally came – after an hour and a half wait – I braced myself for an abrupt confrontation with Israeli officialdom. To my surprise, my clerk was a bundle of buoyancy. When she started speaking to me in English rather than Hebrew, I asked where she was from. “Albania.”
What a pleasant turn of events: the woman in charge of the immigrants was an immigrant herself. As my forms were duly stamped, we traded travel stories. She told me that you can fly to Turkey and rent a car to drive to Albania by way of Bulgaria and Macedonia.
Maybe I should think about leading such Mediterranean road trips. After all, I now have the stamp of approval from the Ministry of Education.
Protesting Israel-style
Filed under: Israeliness, Life, Politics
For illustrative purposes
The email we received last week was dire. Our neighborhood was in grave danger of being ruined by unscrupulous real estate developers, it read. A massive 210-unit apartment project had been green-lighted to be built right in the middle of an already congested neighborhood.
The resulting traffic, pollution and just plain lack of aesthetics (the planned project includes two eight-story towers reminiscent of the Holyland monstrosity) demanded a response. The residents’ considerations had already been rejected by two lower committees. We were urged to attend a last chance meeting of the Va’ad Artzi, the national planning commission, to take place at 9:00 AM on Sunday.
Normally, I shy away from such events. Highly technical Hebrew with lots of architectural lingo spoken at very high volume (read: yelling) isn’t how I like to start my workday. But this seemed important, so my wife Jody and I high tailed it across town to the Chen Hotel in the Bayit VeGan quarter of Jerusalem where the committee was meeting.
Truth be told, this was our first government gathering in Israel. Back in the States, I was a regular since I held the planning and city council beat at my first newspaper job. So I was expecting something similar. A small auditorium with council members sitting on a raised stage around a long table. Members of the public would step up to a podium and speak into a microphone. The men all wore ties; the mayor held a gavel.
But this was casual Israel. We residents (about 20 of us showed up to show our support) sat around the perimeter of the room behind the opposing parties who were seated at three tables arranged in a U. On the city’s side sat various officials, the project developer and several architects. We were represented by local residents and a member of the Society for the Protection of Nature (SPNI): a burly man with a gray beard, a polo shirt and a baseball cap. At the front table was the Va’ad itself.
Despite a hustle bustle of participants getting up for drinks and noshes, chairs scraping across the floor, animated whispering and cell phones ringing, the proceedings were surprisingly efficient.
The contractor spoke first, followed by the residents. Both sides were articulate, used PowerPoint slides, and seemed genuinely interested in finding a workable compromise. The SPNI man was careful to say he wasn’t opposed to the project, just the lack of public green space and the destruction of a grove of trees that had been thriving since the British Mandate era.
The developers, in turn, showed numerous plans that they’d rejected until arriving at one that they said had the least impact on the neighborhood. Most of the trees would have to go in order to build underground parking which was of course better for the neighborhood than forcing 300 new cars onto city streets. The plan also called for setting aside 25% of the luxury project for less affluent families – a rarity among shekel-crazed developers and their cronies.
One reason the battle was so relatively amiable is that everyone agreed that Jerusalem has no choice but to become denser. When the Safdie Plan – which called for massive construction in the green belt around the city – was nixed last year after protests by the very same SPNI, the alternative was to find and build on empty urban space.
The area for this particular new development was formerly mostly empty agricultural land and fields next to the venerable Ulpan Etzion which was shut down earlier this year for budgetary reasons. It was only a matter of time.
As the meeting stretched into its third hour, Jody and I had to leave – protesting is fun and all, but we do need to work. In any case, the committee wasn’t taking a vote on the spot.
We of course hope that the project will be scaled down, although Rachel Deitcher, the resident who’d invited us in the first place warned that compromise is not generally the Israeli way. Nevertheless we appreciated the fact that there was a forum in Israel where opposing sides could meet and, to our unjaded eyes, seemed genuinely interested in solving the conflict. Most of all, our first foray into city planning politics wasn’t as painful as we’d feared.
When the verdict is handed down, I’ll be sure to let you know.
A free offer that’s too free
Filed under: Business, Pop Culture, Technology
It happens every year at this time like clockwork. I get a call from a “private number” according to my phone’s caller ID. I answer, expecting to hear a plea for funding from a new charity. Instead, it’s the Haaretz newspaper offering me a free gift: a two-week trial of the English print edition of the paper along with the International Herald Tribune.
How can I resist? Never mind the fact that virtually the entire daily and weekend Haaretz is online and I can (and do) read it regularly, and that by having the paper delivered to my door I am contributing to who knows how many extra trees that must necessarily be felled because of my greedy acceptance.
Still, growing up in a newspaper family (my father worked as a reporter for The San Francisco Examiner for 35 years), there is nothing like the feel of fresh newsprint at the breakfast table (and later in slightly less fragrant parts of the house).
We subscribed to both the morning and afternoon papers, which turned out to be somewhat of a problem as I felt compelled to clip out any and all articles of interest. Several years ago, when my parents moved to a retirement community, leaving the home in which I grew up, I had to wade through the 31 boxes of “stuff” I’d stored in my old bedroom. A majority of those boxes were filled with my obsessive newspaper snips.
My kids will never have the same “opportunity” to take scissors to paper. Within a few years, publications will be online only (you think it will take longer…bookmark this article and read it again in 2015). As a result, anything even vaguely resembling the current newspaper form factor will be consumed on a portable reading device like the large screen Amazon Kindle or the upcoming “Que” from Plastic Logic. My 31 boxes of data could fit on a generously sized disk-on-key.
When my two-week free trial of Haaretz ended this week, I waited for the inevitable follow up call. But it never came. In fact, the nice salesman who made the offer in the first place didn’t call last year, or the year before either.
Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point of freebies to hook the recipient into purchasing something they really don’t’t need? Perhaps Haaretz isn’t bound by the natural laws of marketing. Is it possible that the newspaper was truly giving me a thoughtful gift out of the goodness of its icy corporate heart?
You want to know the most ironic part of the story? After two weeks, I was feeling like I might actually enjoy a daily subscription! Oh well, back to the Internet where the bytes still roam free.
Oud v’Rikoud
The annual Jerusalem International Oud Festival has become the leading event of its kind on the ethnic music calendar. Now in its tenth year, the festival, which kicks off next week, lasts for 16 days and includes shows in both Jerusalem and Nazareth. But those of us fortunate to have attended last week’s “Boogie Nights” dance party got a special sneak preview.
Boogie is a Jerusalem institution. A twice-monthly feel good free movement extravaganza, Boogie is a place where you don’t have to worry about your dance steps or dance partner. You just flail your arms around, hop up and down and twirl to the beat which emphasizes energetic world music rather than the disco or trance found at more traditional dance clubs and bars.
This edition of Boogie featured an hour-long Oud performance in a separate room. The tight group of three actually performed on guitar, darbuka and a strange breathy sounding flute. The crowd lounged on yoga mats arranged haphazardly across the floor. Many clutched cups of Chai tea, a popular Boogie beverage – in keeping with its international flavor.
The oud is a strange-sounding (to Western ears) kind of Middle Eastern lute. It owes it origins to the Arab world but there are now practitioners from Turkey, Spain, India, and Greece. To mix it up even more, the opening night of the official festival next week features veteran Israeli rockers Nikmat HaTraktor (The Tractor’s Revenge) performing oud and electric guitar versions of Jewish piyutim (medieval poetry).
As for the funky rhyming name of the Boogie special evening – “Oud v’Rikoud” – the latter is Hebrew for dance. I wonder what they’ll call the next Boogie in two weeks which features another eclectic special event: an African drumming workshop and performance. I’ll most certainly be there and let you know.
Israel at the center of alternative energy development
No matter what your politics, there was nothing to feel conflicted about in Prime Minister Netanyahu’s speech at the recent 2009 President’s Conference where he sketched out an inspiring plan to develop a feasible, cost effective alternative to fossil fuels within 10 years.
Israel is not unique of course in recognizing that the world cannot depend on oil forever. It’s clearly a threat to the environment, to the economies of those countries that import oil (that would be most of the world), and more critically global security.
Israel has an even more urgent agenda. We’re a small country and the supply of oil can – and has – been used against us. When I was growing up in the U.S., I remember the post-Yom Kippur War oil crisis. At the time, I was not really aware of what was happening on the political stage, but the lines around the block at gas stations made me want to blame someone. For many, the punching bag then (as too often now) was Israel.
Fortunately, Israel is perhaps ideally situated to develop an alternative energy solution. We are already at the cusp of innovation in many related areas – from agro-tech, nanotechnology and solar energy to battery technologies and renewable energies (take a look at this page from the main Israel21c website for Israeli companies involved in social energy) .
We also have more Nobel Prize winners and more venture capital money per capita than any other country. We’re already in bed with Shai Agassi’s A Better Place initiative to deploy electric cars and charging stations around the country within the next few years.
Netanyahu says he aims to establish “a national commission comprised of scientists, manufacturers, engineers, businesspeople and government officials.”
Can we do it? That’s another story. Rhetoric doesn’t always translate into action. Budgets get slashed. Bureaucrats squabble.
But the stakes are too high here. As Netanyahu put it succinctly: “We have the brains, but we also have the will.”
Anka ticket angst
Israel is back on the rock concert map. We’ve seen some truly big names of late: Madonna, Leonard Cohen, Paul McCartney. But there have also been some visits by musicians slightly lower down on the food chain. A few months ago, it was Gilbert O’Sullivan, best known for the saccharine pop ditty Alone Again Naturally. And now it’s…Paul Anka.
I shouldn’t be so gloomy. A lot of people are big fans of the Canadian-born Anka. He has two shows scheduled during his tour of Israel. The 68-year-old contemporary of the Beatles (ouch, that’s a little hard to say in the same sentence) had a string of hits in the 1960s and by the end of that decade had sold more than 100 million records.
He’s been in the news again lately when it was revealed that he would receive half of the songwriting royalties for Michael Jackson’s new song, “This is It.”
I even thought it might be fun to attend his upcoming mid-November concert in Tel Aviv. But the prices, ranging from NIS 340 to NIS 1,000 ($92-$271), set me back in my chair: that’s an amount I usually tuck away for last minute emergencies like leaking roofs and car repair.
Madonna, McCartney and Cohen also had ticket prices in the same ballpark. One more lucid reminder that we’re not in the heartland of America where you can see a top performer for under $10. I have the ticket stubs to prove it. Pink Floyd: $8.75. Queen: $9.00.
Silly me. Like Anka, I was stuck in the 60s and 70s myself. Concert prices around the world today rival what we pay in Israel. Those ten-buck tickets have gone the way of the electric typewriter and the rotary phone. Even entrance to see oldies hit makers Three Dog Night now starts at $50!
Fortunately, ticket prices for Israeli bands are still relatively down to earth. You can see rockers Bet HaBubot or Erez Lev Ari for under NIS 100 ($26). Or catch them at a festival like Jerusalem’s annual Chutzot HaYotzer arts and crafts extravaganza where a full performance from a top star – Ivri Lieder, Yehudit Ravitz, Aviv Gefen have played in the last year – is included in the ticket price of NIS 40 (just over $10).
Try seeing Donny Osmond for a price like that!
A Night in the Desert
It’s been a couple of years since we last visited Succa Bamidbar, but as fall inches slowly towards winter, a visit to the magical “Succa in the Desert” would be warmly welcomed.
Succa Bamidbar is so far off the beaten track, there’s barely a road to get there. Located 5 km from Mitzpe Ramon, the establishment, founded in 1990 and run by the amiable Avi Dror and Chen Hadar, consists of 8 small succot – cabins made of wood and fabric – scattered across a barren rocky hillside. Don’t worry – they’re enclosed on all sides to keep the cold out.
Each succa is set no less than 150 meters from the next. There is no running water and many of the succot have no electricity either. You sleep on mattresses or low beds. Two eco-friendly outhouses are located at the center of the site.
The most striking element of Succa Bamidbar is the solitude. With no lights at night, you walk the narrow paths between the guest succot and the central “Succa of Abraham,” where two meals a day are served, with just a lantern.
Silence is also a major player in the uniqueness of the place. That is until 6:30 PM, when Avi and Chen ring an enormous gong, which sounds over the entire valley – the call for dinner. On our last visit, we had a delicious lentil soup with home-made croutons, macaroni and assorted vegetables. Our second night included freshly baked bread and home made sweet wine with a ginger cinnamon kick. The sweet potato soup and zucchini goat cheese casserole were both to die for.
Breakfast is also served: a panoply of home made jams, yogurts and cheeses, hard boiled eggs and a fabulous chunky humus (with an accompanying schug to warm up even the toughest desert denizen).
Succa Bamidbar is a 45-minute drive from hiking in the Machtesh Ramon; there is also a pleasant 25-minute hike from the Succa Bamidbar campsite to the edge of the crater with its breathtaking view.
Prices are not cheap but it’s worth it. You can find details on their website. But don’t look for an email – they don’t have a computer – or for that matter a cell phone. Now that’s roughing it!
Jerusalem to become accessible to the disabled
Jerusalem’s Old City is one of the top tourist attractions in the world, but with its ancient alleyways and endless stairs, much of the area has been inaccessible for visitors with handicaps. That’s set to change.
An article in Ynet today reported that the Jerusalem Development Authority recently allotted NIS 10 million (about $ 2.7 million) to make the Old City of Jerusalem fully accessible to the physically disabled. The money comes from a special fund in the National Insurance Institute (Israel’s version of Social Security).
Among the improvements: making Jaffa Gate and its surroundings wheelchair-friendly; preparing accessible walking paths in the Jewish, Christian and Muslim Quarters; and possibly buying a car to drive handicapped people around the Old City.
Other tourist attractions to be upgraded include the Tower of David Museum, the Jerusalem Archaeological Park and Davidson Center, the City of David and the Herodian Quarter and Wohl Archaeological Museum in the Jewish Quarter.
Most intriguing: the project includes technologically innovative services for deaf and blind people, such as three-dimensional models which can be touched, vocal signs and visual transcriptions.
As someone who’s father was never able to visit Jerusalem due to the relative lack of physical consideration for people with disabilities, I applaud the city’s efforts. But there’s much more work to be done in the capital and around all of Israel.
Guru in our backyard
The Israeli meditation community was all a flutter this week with the arrival of meditation guru (both figuratively and literally) Sri Sri Ravi Shankar who spoke yesterday at Hebrew University to a crowd of about 600.
Shankar is best known in Israel as the founder of the Art of Living, a type of meditation that includes very strenuous breathing exercises (not the usual calm “notice your breath”). My wife Jody has been an active practitioner for several years now and swears by the process.
Like a traveling Gandhi, Shankar has jetted around the world, from his home base of India to Baghdad, Kashmir, Sri Lanka and beyond, spreading his message of peace and love. He is speaking this week at the 2nd Israeli Presidential Conference. He was last in Israel in 2003 during the height of the suicide bombings.
The Hebrew University event included a talk by Shankar, guided meditation, and music by an Israeli ensemble on sitar and percussion.
At the end of the evening, Shankar invited the audience to come and stay with him in India. While some certainly will, many Israelis were happy to have gotten a glimpse of their guru in their backyard.
The Waffle Bar
I’m a big fan of waffles. Growing up in California, I used to eat the frozen Eggo Nutri-grain variety pretty much every day for breakfast. Drenched in butter and maple syrup, they weren’t healthy but it was something to look forward to when arising early on a dark winter morning.
Years later, on a business trip to Florida, I drove what must have been 30 minutes on a bland 6-lane city highway lined by endless strip malls and fast food joints to find an International House of Pancakes. It was my Harold and Kumar White Castle moment.
So I was filled with thinly concealed squeals of delight when a waffle bar opened up just a five-minute walk from my home in southern Jerusalem. That was a couple of years ago, but it wasn’t until this week that we hadn’t had a chance to sample the wares.
Waffles have apparently hit the big time here in little Israel. Our little Waffle Bar had a long waiting list and a crowd of gussied up Jerusalemites in tight black jeans and stiletto heals milled around jostling for a table (this despite the fact that the hostess had taken everyone’s names). It was a dichotomous uber-secular crowd, seemingly out of place in the increasingly observant Baka neighborhood.
We must have waited close to 45 minutes for our table. It was after 11:00 PM when we finally sat down. The Waffle Bar’s décor is nothing fancy – more like an Israeli version of a diner than a trendy Tel Aviv hot spot. The location itself used to be an Italian restaurant which was rarely full, and before that a Friday morning prepared food take out joint.
While the menu includes a range of full meals, you come for the waffles. There’s vanilla cream, apples and blueberry, Nutella chocolate and nuts, plus many more equally decadent delicacies. My wife and I actually ordered a sweet crepe with a side of vanilla ice cream. At NIS 40, it wasn’t cheap but it was quite yummy.
As we left around midnight with our tummies sufficiently filled, we remarked how sophisticated Israel has become. A nearly hour long wait for a table might be understandable for a new sushi bar in the Big Apple, but Jerusalem?
Fortunately, across the street is Falafel Oved, considered by many (including me) to be the best establishment in town for fried chickpea balls in a soft laffa (get it with the spicy garlic sauce). It’s not waffles, but it’s quintessentially Israeli. And the line is much shorter.
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