We love Iran

March 19, 2012 - 10:33 PM by · 4 Comments
Filed under: Blogging, coexistence, design, education, General, Israeliness, Life, News, Politics, War 

Ah, those crazy art students. Wouldn’tcha know it, but it took a couple of graphic designers to reach the Iranian public — through the web and Facebook – and let them know that we’re really just people, and not all that interested in a major war. The couple, Ronny Edry and his wife, Michal Tamir, created several simple, graphic posters depicting regular Israelis and the words, “Iranians We Will Never Bomb Your Country,” and within hours, began receiving hundreds of responses from Israelis and then Iranians.

On their Facebook page, people are sharing music links — Stevie Wonder’s We Can Work It Out — messages about their appreciation for the campaign, wishes for a happy Iranian new year and Iranian versions of the Israeli poster. If you were just reading this site, you’d think there’s no chance for a nuclear war.

Read this comment:

Just in from Iran:

miscommunication is a funny thing . when i saw the original blog and first comment was why so cocky why u say u dont bomb us like u want to but u dont and few hours later i saw one israeli said why they dont said it back that we dont bomb u either. u see? something its good thing in Your country and its bad thing in mine . because we dont know each other. they never let us to know each other. they afraid we became united and realize we got played and they cant control us any more (they are : government of both countries ) . i dont know about u guys but here they keep saying israel is bad . israel its evil and all that crap and its going into your subconscious and u start believe a lie that deep down u know thats not true at least not all of them but u know what, when i see pictures specially family ones its like i know u guys and i never met any of u .any one with a little bit knowledge knows innocent people gonna get kill in wars .people who dont deserve it and people who do deserve it they going to sit in their office and write a apology note . love and respect to every irani or israeli or american or what ever countries that say no to war . some people said this is start of a friendship between two countries but i say (base on two countries history ) this is reunion of brothers and sisters who lost each other over time and finally find each other .

B. Tehran – IRAN

It helps to have a ‘place’ to go where you can regain a sense of sanity about people and war and the general desire to vote for peace rather than warfare. The question is whether pink and green posters can make any kind of difference in this global disaster.

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Becoming the belt

March 15, 2012 - 10:29 PM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Art, design, education, General, Life 

I’ve been wondering about The Guild Tel Aviv for the last few years. Pegged as Israel’s school for shoemaking and accessory design, there have been quite a few shoemakers, bag designers and other accessory makers who have graduated from there in recent years — I’ve written about Guild graduate and shoemaker Kobi Levi several times in this spot — and many of the local designers, shoemakers and accessory designers teach there, helping develop this still-burgeoning industry.

Anyway, I’d been thinking about a four-week hat course for some time, but wasn’t sure I could really commit to four Sundays of making my way to Tel Aviv at the end of the day. (My ulterior motive was that I’ve been waffling over whether to continue wearing hat-like objects to synagogue each Sabbath, since it’s not feeling as exciting as it once did. I figured that new hats, made by me, in the style that I always seek in stores, would extend my hat-wearing, but it also didn’t make sense to base my shul hat gear on a Guild class.)

In any case, when my friend and I heard about a one-shot belt-making class, we knew it was for us. One Wednesday night, for just three hours, and with a NIS 99 price tag to boot, thanks to a special Guild deal being offered on Groupon. We gathered a group of friends who were also interested, including one serious vegan who verified that she could make a pleather belt, and reserved our spaces.

When the evening finally arrived last night, it was down to just the two of us again, after various family events and issues caused our friends to cancel. No matter. We got there within minutes of the start of class, and were immediately fitted out with our leather strips and hardware.

The teacher, a handbag designer, was warm and friendly, but could’ve offered a bit more instruction and direction. I experienced those familiar art class moments of, “Why am I here, I have no idea what to do with this strip of leather.” But after checking out what the three art teachers were doing across the table from me, I gathered my courage and started making holes. There was an incredibly satisfying feeling in pounding silver tools into the leather, creating my own stamped design along the belt’s length and figuring out where to place holes and loops.

Two hours later, with some rushing to finish things off at the end, I had a new belt, made by moi. I liked the fact that you walk out of just one class with a finished product, and at a price that’s a lot cheaper than buying one in the store.

I would try The Guild again, and maybe even consider trying my hand at millinery. And just so you know, most of the teachers speak English, if necessary.

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In Israel’s troubled south, apathy is our enemy

March 11, 2012 - 10:39 PM by · 3 Comments
Filed under: General, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness, Life, News, War 

I just came across this video on Facebook, posted by a friend, from her friend of a friend, of a grad rocket landing next to the ‘videographer’s’ apartment in Ashdod.

The video is actually several years old, but the experience is the same now as it was then: The siren comes, people scatter, trying to get into bomb shelters or shelter of some kind in the few minutes they have between hearing the sirens and the fall of the rocket. And there they remain, waiting until the calm to emerge into their lives again for a few hours until the next round.

I was upset to hear about the renewal of rockets landing in the south over the weekend, and immediately spent some time reading up on what had happened over the weekend and what it all meant. I thought about it all, and then I turned to something else, since I can, living in Jerusalem where we’re not disturbed by those kind of incidents at the moment. But as a friend of mine pointed out in a Ynet article he read, our apathy is our enemy. The article was written by a 24-year-old Ashdod resident, Nir Tal, who writes:

“What’s most bothersome is our apathy, the apathy of us all. It allows us to play the tragic new game of the southern cities, where we try to guess where a rocket landed after hearing the siren. It allows us to get used to the new situation over the past few years. The apathy is our new enemy, without a doubt. But what are we guilty of? It’s natural.”

I guess so. I know that when I think about what I can do, the only thing I come up with is opening my home to residents of the south, but no one I know down south wants to come here. They want to stay home, even if home may mean a bomb shelter for several nights running. And when I think about going down south for a story later this week, a story that has nothing to do with the current volley of rockets, I consider not going, as it doesn’t make sense to go down south for something that doesn’t have to be written right now, as it isn’t about the current situation, but is more concerned with the non life-threatening matters of culture and life.

When this kind of situation is taking place, you don’t want to be apathetic. But you also wonder what you can actually do to help.

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Driving in the fast lane

February 27, 2012 - 10:33 PM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness, Life, Technology, Travel 

The seven shekel sign

I’ve been avoiding the fast lane to Tel Aviv. Sure, it gets you there faster, but I didn’t know enough about it to consider actually using it. And, while it might have hastened my arrival to the big city all the various times that I’m running late, I never felt I had enough time to actually veer off the highway to the fast lane center in the last year and find out what it’s all about. So when my friend and work partner suggested we take the fast lane while on our way to Tel Aviv last week, I agreed, because this was clearly my opportunity.

Why not indeed? We exited off Highway 1, right near the airport, veering around the curved road into the parking lot of the fast lane center, so to speak. This is where you can 1) Register for the fast lane (also doable online, but this is actually more convenient) 2) Park your car for free and take a free shuttle into Tel Aviv 3) Pay at the turnstile to enter the fast lane.

Luckily, as we were short on time, as usual, my friend had already registered for the fast lane on a previous trip. That left us the task of entering the two-lane turnstile in order to pay our seven shekels and enter the fast lane. The turnstile, however, did not make sense. If this fast lane is considered the most advanced in the world, why is it that it is impossible to get the car close enough to the self-serve turnstile without having to actually get out of the car in order to pay? And once you do start getting out of the car, a cranky man comes over to take you to task for not getting close enough. He appears to be a tollbooth operator, but not the kind that I’ve ever experienced in my toll booth situations.

Nevertheless, we paid the seven shekels — the price seems to be calculated based on number of passengers in the car and traffic on the road — and headed toward the fast lane entrance. As usual, signage was a little confusing but we figured it out and got on our way. Luckily, we didn’t need to get off at Kibbutz Galuyot, the first exit on Tel Aviv’s Ayalon Highway, as the fast lane doesn’t allow you to exit there.

We arrived at our final destination, just off the LaGuardia exit, with minutes to spare. Were we saved by the fast lane? Probably. But I was not impressed by the system or service. Just to juxtapose it with our next transporation-related segment: We entered a parking lot only to find that all the spots were reserved for the various insurance companies in the building (why did they let us in if there’s nowhere to park?) We finally made our way to the exit, and the parking operator told us he had a parking spot just for us. Where? In the non-authorized spot behind his booth, between the entrance and exit lanes to the parking lot. Quixotic? Yes. But the car was waiting for us four hours and forty shekels later. At that point, we just drove home slowly.

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The Gutman shul

February 20, 2012 - 10:34 PM by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Art, education, Entertainment, General, History and Culture, Holidays, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness, Life, Religion 

I’ve always liked the Nachman Gutman Museum in Tel Aviv’s gentrified Neve Tzedek neighborhood. It’s small, just two floors, and exhibits just a portion of this well-known artist’s works, many of them related to Tel Aviv and the pre-state period. The paintings, many of them oils, are of subjects that feel so familiar and close by, and I’m not even from Tel Aviv. It’s also in what was formerly known as the Writer’s House, as from 1907 to 1914, the building was used as the editorial offices for the Ha-Poel Ha-Tzair newspaper, as well as the residence of editor Yosef Aharonovitch, his wife, author Dvora Baron, and author Joseph Hayyim Brenner. So clearly it has a familiar feeling to the writer in me.

Why am I mentioning the Nachman Gutman Museum? Because of a happy coincidence that took place last weekend. We were in Tel Aviv for Shabbat with family and friends, and had spent time Friday at the Carmel shuk, eating hummous and buying treats and then hanging out and relaxing. On Shabbat morning, some of us wanted to go to shul, while others were happy to walk on the beach or in nearby Neve Tzedek (it was next to our hotel and is considered to be the first Jewish neighborhood of Tel Aviv outside Jaffa). We knew that there was a Masorti synagogue, Kehillat Sinai, in Tel Aviv. (Full disclosure: My BIL is a Conservative rabbi.)

We also knew that said Masorti shul was supposed to move to new digs in Neve Tzedek, at the new Schechter Center for Jewish Culture, which is otherwise known as Beit Lorenz, an historic Templar building where writer S.Y. Agnon once sat and drank coffee.

But as these things happen, the building wasn’t completely ready yet, and Kehillat Sinai is temporarily meeting at the Nachman Gutman Museum, which is just across the street from the rabbi’s house. I could not have been happier. This way, I could get in some shul, visit the museum and show it to my friends, and be in Neve Tzedek.

We strolled over, enjoying the narrow streets and gentrified but still elegant architecture of the neighborhood. When we got to the museum, I realized that the shul is using a meeting room, but the museum is open on Saturdays — this is Tel Aviv, not Jerusalem — and you have to buy tickets to get in, as usual. Clearly, it would’ve been too easy to go to shul and get to see a favorite museum. So I sat in shul in any case, enjoying the mixed crowd that Kehillat Sinai draws, including some tourists, some transplants and a few Israelis who have clearly returned to religion the Masorti route. And what was most amusing was seeing the odd-museum goer walk in, buy tickets (at the gift shop next to our ‘sanctuary’), and then stick their heads in to the shul to stare and clearly wonder, “What is going on in here?”

To be a Jew, in shul, in a public manner, in Tel Aviv, can be awkward. Particularly when it’s viewable to those who are not doing the same. But the flip side was how right it felt to be using this building for yet another purpose, and that it all works. You can spend your Shabbat strolling, museum hopping, praying or some combination thereof. I felt Gutman would have approved.

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