The Israeli Newman
The Israeli mail carrier hasn’t received the same kind of media attention as postal workers in other countries, particularly the U.S. That could be because of the lack of drama attached to the job. As far as I know, no Israeli postal worker has ever ‘gone postal’, although I wouldn’t blame them if they did, given the myriad tasks they have to do in the typical postal bank, which can include anything from supplying stamps and changing currency to acting as a bank teller for customers paying their household and business bills. And given that the post office is always open during the oddest hours, hours which you are never fully aware of, they are generally full of disgruntled people.But one thing they can’t complain about is that they get to work in their own clothing — often jeans or shorts and a tee-shirt — carrying the mail in regulation Israel Postal Service backpacks, a more casual look than the typical American postal carrier bag. Now it is true that the American mail carrier bag has become a long-time trendy accessory, known as the messenger bag. Yet it cannot be argued that the American postal carrier ever appears to be trendy, particularly not when you’re channeling Seinfeld’s Newman as the typical mailman.
These were some of my thoughts the other day as I was watching a mailman go from apartment building to apartment building along Katznelson Street in Jerusalem’s Rasko neighborhood. He would deliver the mail to a few buildings, crossing back and forth on the street, and then replenish his bag from an locked olive green box on the street. And dressed as he was in shorts, tee-shirt, baseball hat and backpack, one wouldn’t necessarily guess that he was the mailman unless noting the Postal Service logo on his bag.So imagine my surprise when, after asking him if he would mind if I took a picture of him for my blog, he answered in English — having heard my American-accented Hebrew. Turns out that this particular postman, Eric Lemel, wearing an L.A. Clippers baseball hat, has been delivering mail in Jerusalem for 13 years, and loves it. I think that may an ultimate aliyah professional story. Because how many Jewish mailmen do you know? (Besides Newman.)
Of Matisyahu, Larry David and their [dis]connection to Israel
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Israeliness, Movies, Music, Pop Culture, Religion

Matisyahu - Israel a life-changing experience (AP)
It’s always interesting to learn how the American Jewish experience end up informing their views on Judaism – and Israel. For the 25-year-old, California-raised Attias, having an Israeli father was the key. He used to spend summers with his dad’s family in Kiryat Malachi, and liked it so much that he would lie to his parents about coming home and end up staying another month or two.
“One year, I did the Gadna military program – my Israeli friends said, ‘are you crazy, you’re volunteering?’ But I loved everything about being in Israel,” he told me.
It was also during his summers in Israel in the late 1980s that Attias – nicknamed the Young Lion – first grew to love reggae music, travelling every weekend to the Soweto Club in Tel Aviv.
“I was only 12 or 13 but I used to get on a bus in Kiryat Malachi by myself and go to Tel Aviv to the reggae clubs,” said Atias. “They had this DJ spinning the records, an Arab guy who loved the music but had no idea who he was playing, so they would ask me to announce the songs, and I’d hang out in the DJ booth all night long.”
Matisyahu also has a teenage Israel story which proved to be a life-changing experience. As a secular New York 16-year-old, he spent a semester in Israel at the Alexander Muss High School in Hod Hasharon.
“I remember one moment. They took us up to Mount Scopus around sunset to look at the Old City. For the first time, I got all emotional, and swept up in the idea of me being part of the Jewish people. Until then, it was a minor component of my identity, but it began to raise my awareness of the history and ancestry and rich background that I had. It was overwhelming,” he said, adding that it took a few years until Matisyahu became an Observant Jew and changed his name from Mathhew Miller.
These days, Matisyahu, who performed this week twice in Israel, spends a month here over the holidays every year.
Contrast the Attias and Matisyahu experiences with those of Adam Green and Larry David, born 30 years apart. David, who grew up ‘very Reform’ in Sheepshead Bay, New York, ended his Jewish experience after his bar mitzvah.
Since we were speaking a couple days after Rosh Hashana, I asked David how his holiday was, and he replied, “Uneventful.”
You don’t go to services on Rosh Hashana, I asked, treading dangerously close to a Larry David moment.
“Nah. I used to go to when I was married, that was part of my marriage arrangement, but it isn’t anymore,” he laughed.
Neither is Israel, apparently. When I asked if David had ever visited the homeland of the Jewish people, he answered, “No, I have no particular interest. Naturally, I want Israel to prosper and survive, but I’m not active in my support.”
Thirty years after David’s assimilation, a similar thing occurred to Adam Green, the quirky Brooklyn folkie, who as a member of The Moldy Peaches in 2001, co-wrote “Anyone Else But You,” the cloyingly charming song sung by the main characters in the 2007 indie sleeper hit film Juno.
Growing up in Mount Kisco, New York, he also was bar mitzvahed, but today, “I’m an atheist. I’m not at all observant now, what’s the point?” he said, adding, “I hope it’s not too late to make my first trip to Israel.”
Perhaps that’s the question all of American Jewry should be asking.
A ‘souper’ restaurant in Jerusalem
Jerusalem has way more than its share of both overpriced trying-to-be-trendy restaurant/bars and cheap fast food falafel and shwarma joints. But it’s a rare occurrence to find a place that totally bucks all trends – and in fact – reminds you of walking into an alternative hippie world circa 1972 Amsterdam or Cambridge, Mass.
The Marakiya (The Soup Kitchen) is as about as far away from Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi that you can get. The folks that run it are so nice, and laid back. But they do share a common passion for soup – that’s the only thing on the menu (aside from deserts).
Hidden on Coresh St., a side street behind the aforementioned trendy establishments near the Central Post Office, the nondescript storefront opens up into a bohemian paradise. Non-matching couches in and a motley crew of chairs surround long wooden tables. You may find yourself sitting next to college students, area business people out for a quick lunch, or just professional hanger outers. Chess and backgammon boards are there for the diners’ enjoyment, as well as collections of customers’ old IDs or credit cards which are alot of fun to thumb through.
Cluttered, but not dirty, going into the restaurant is like walking into your grandma’s house, if she tended to hoard garage sale items and didn’t care about visual uniformity. But, hey, we’re here to talk about food.
A big chalk board lists the day’s offerings of a dozen or so soupy concoctions – including such innovative blends as Peas and Nana soup or Humous and vegetable soup. Of course, all the soups are made on the premises, and are served with huge loaves of bread with fresh pesto and butter.
Hundreds of 33 rpm albums are stuffed haphazardly on shelves next to the chalkboard, and the main waiter/cook/cashier makes sure to keep the working turntable going all the time. With our huge bowls of mushroom soup and sweet potato soup, we were accompanied by a vintage album by The Cure, and then Buddy Holly’s Rave On.
The music, the soup and the bread were all fantastic, but the best part was the price – NIS 26 (about $6) for a filling meal with no-frills wonderful ambiance. I can’t wait to go back.













