No More Socializing

When we first came to Israel, the kids went to local school. One thing I could never understand was the driving need for Israeli parents to be friends. Every school outing they would try get all the parents to come along. At bonfires, tiyulim (field trips), teacher evenings, they were always trying to get the parents to hang out together. The end of the year parties were pretty much an excuse for the parents to meet. If god forbid your child did some extra-curricular activities like soccer, macrame or group screaming, there too you were expected to meet and enjoy socializing with the other parents. At the beginning of the year, there were the "getting to know you" gettogethers, then all through the year the obligatory festival parties or meals and at the end of the year you were expected to attend "farewell" parties. Now really. We have enough friends. We don't have enough time to see the ones we have already acquired, so why look for more? No wonder no one in Israel has time for hobbies.

When our two offspring moved to the American School, I was happy to see that a quality school understands that all we want is to be left alone. No end of the year parties for parents and only the minimum of parents needed to volunteer to give rides on field trips. Nice and impersonal, that's how I like it. So why, why, why do I have to go tonight to a post Poland Holocaust Trip Evening, where "students share their experiences and photos with parents etc. etc." The boy went to Poland. O.K. He showed us the journal and the pictures. It made an impact, he "got it". This must be because the trip was organized and run by the locals. They're very social are my people. Next there will be a Facebook group and monthly Post Poland decompression meetings for parents. No, I say. No.

A Conversation in the House of Black

Guest post by Jo
7 PM. Master bedroom, Jo (Blackwifeo) on the bed, Blackpetero in his chair (where else) patting BlackLola who refuses to leave the upstairs floor, even though bdo never feeds her or changes the cat box

Jetblackpetero: So you really believe that the fact I posted our address on the blog was why we got robbed?"

Wifeo: "Well its a possibility. I mean, one is supposed to be anonymous online and not post personal details, and somebody told me that that may have had something to do with it."

Man-in-blacko: "Jo- you will believe anything. That's ridiculous."

Wifeo: "hhhm. well its possible."

Pierre-le'noir-o: "so tell me, where are the 3 garbage bags of laundry that were downstairs?"

Wifeo: "They got sent out to Lootzik the Laundromat, who is now not Lootzik the Laundromat any more."

El-pedro-negro: "so we spent countless thousands of shekels getting the Jonathans etc working again, and now you are sending out the washing. I bet Lootzik, who is now not Loootzik bought the Laundromat solely based on the fact that you send in the laundry to them all the time."

Understandably-defensive-wifeo: "It's not every week!!! and its not ALL the washing (I do the undies). And after you bitched about the socks getting lost, I haven't sent those in once. Anyway, its once in a blue moon, when I am so inundated that I cannot catch up. Oh, and Aziza still doesn't know how to run the machine, and black motherinlaw has not been over to help me for 3 weeks, cause Aunty Tony was visiting from San Diego. Don't forget that you fired her, remember?."

Pietro-nero: (in a typically petero tone of voice): "So we are actually saving money by having a big American size washing machine and dryer and not using it."

Sweet-pucked-upon-wifeo: "Well, its summer and we shouldn't be using the drier anyway- --are you going to hang up the washing everyday?"

Aswad-Beetero: "Not only is this whole thing ridiculous, but I hate the way they fold the washing. Lootzik did a better job. I mean what is the point."

Wifeo: "well, its too late, its gone, finito la comedia!"

Schwarzapetero: "oh, and its a good thing the cats are not in the house anymore"

Fed-up-wifeo: "oh shutup already, I am trying to play Lexulous"

Gypsy Girl

In a galaxy far, far away, we once owned a record shop. Alon, Jonny and I were foolish youngsters with dreams in our hearts and no brains in our heads. We did have killer parties though. Somehow I found the 12" single of Creulla De Ville's "classic" hit Gypsy Girl (I still have it here in my office). We knew nothing about the band (luckily Wikipedia knows all), and had no idea that the two leads were twins, that the female was the excellently named Philomena Muinzer, and the reason they never made an album was that the drummer "absconded with the recordings". Well, we danced and danced to this song at those parties in Ein Karem.

p.s. I had a completely different song picked out for today, when the black wife asked about this song in a blog comment. This needed mentioning to prove I listen!

Toes

Summer arrived today. Summer here is not marked by a gentle warming sun, sparrows chirping merrily in flowering trees or deep blue skies and pleasant cool breezes. No summer here is brutal. The sun is so hot that it superheats the air into an eye melting liquid. The wind is so dry that the spray from the car wash place across the road evaporates before it reaches the cars. Your black shirt sticks so strongly to your back, you need a shoe horn to undress. There are some pluses, though. With summer comes the tiny mini skirts and see through dresses worn by the young lovelies just off the beach. They grace the many restaurants around squint central at lunchtime. It's easy on the eyes.

But, summer also means sandals and open shoes. God! and those toes. And there are some scary toes out there. Today I walked back to work across much of Herzilya Pituach around lunch time. You must understand that after a pleasant winter of closed shoes, I am not used to this kind of abuse. It was hot, and the streets were crowded with feet being aired for the first time this year. Boy, there were some frightening toes. Look people, I understand it's hot and it is your right to wear what you like. Be it solid new Naot sandals or fancy red open Italian shoes with laces that wind up your shapely legs. Please, please, cut your toe nails. Get rid of that white nail fungus, medicine has made great strides in this area. If your big toe nail has been ripped off, consider socks or something closed. It's for your own good I mention this. The fact that I couldn't face lunch after the walk, well, that's my problem.

I would have posted pictures, but some of you may be eating or considering marriage. If you must have visual pointers, go to uglytoepics.

International Day

Today was International Day, the day at our school where the parents of the many nationalities attending the school showcase their diverse cultures. Of course, culture means food. This year there 28 countries represented. In my professional opinion Egypt won on the vegetarian food front (some sort of pasta, chickpea and fried onion concoction with spicy sauce), followed closely by India (chana masala, potato curry and chapatis). On the sweet front, the UK won me over with what I believe was hand made shortbread. The meat eaters recommended the South African stall, with borewors rolls (with mustard) and biltong. Thailand had excellent eggrolls. Israel could have done better, the humus was not up to scratch, and the falaffel was cold. They did have milkies and Bamba, which along with soup almonds (shkeday marak) are the only true Israeli foods. The event was well organized, well run and well attended. Our PTA rocks.

I like this day. My kids are very fortunate that they are exposed to so many diverse cultures on a daily basis. The school is truly international and daily on campus you see kids of all languages, colors and sizes, interacting and fooling around as all normal kids will. It's great that to these kids "international" means a lot more than just weird foods.

Tal

Every Saturday for the last month or so I have set out "exploring" the Holy Land. This week I took it easy and not only did I not blog yesterday, I slept in this morning. I had arranged to meet "The Beautiful Tal" in Tel Aviv and together we were to visit the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. This we did. As we walked down Even Gvirol street, dodging the cyclists and the in-crowd sipping their iced lattes at the streetside cafes, I was disappointed by the lack of photo opportunities. The Beautiful Tal allowed me to photograph her while we ordered her iced chocolate and my borekas, but the pictures do not do her justice. At the museum they took my bag, and strictly forbade any photography. So today's adventure, like the revolution, will not be televised, I'm afraid.

But, this being Israel, there was one memorable incident while The Beautiful Tal and I waited at a bus stop opposite the museum for our ride back. Here's Tal waiting:

So we're waiting and talking, when along comes what can only be called "a dude with a dog". He walks past us, glances at The Beautiful Tal and does a double take. He blurts out something lame like "if I would have know there was such a lovely woman at the bus stop, I would have swapped my dog for a bus". He then proceeds to hit on Tal with all his "charm". He tells her she's the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen and asks for her number. "No!" she says. He asks why. Tal, used to such attention, cuts him down to size and says "because my boyfriend loves me" (implying the boyf will kick this fool's ass). He accepts that he is way out of his league here, and slinks off, but not before asking if I was her father (or perhaps an uncle). Gotta Love Tel Aviv.

Enough Noise.

The neighbors are having a party. That wouldn't be so bad, but god, the music sucks. They have this live singer singing songs directly from the bible (psalms I think). It's torture. I would go off about them, but my lovely wife made me read this article today, and I don't want to be accused of racism. The music though is truly shocking. Just as I thought it could not get worse, the hazanut (Cantorial wailing) started. I'm surely being punished.

Life is Good.

I haven't been on top of my 80% watch lately. Obviously, I'm just too happy and contented here in Israel. Everything is perfect, and it's not the Paxil talking. You see we have a new government, and they're marvelous. Not only do we have more Ministers costing more money than ever before, we have "Honest Bibi" running the show.

Yesterday while driving back from my archeology class (I realized many of the other participants are so old, they saw the destruction of the first temple live), I heard an interesting show on the radio, where they went over Bibi's campaign promises. You know what! He Lied! I can't believe it! He promised not to raise taxes, yet our VAT will be going up 1%. He promised to cut government spending, but guess what, there is a 3% increase (last week this was 1.7%).

The pope is in town. I thought he came to see Depeche Mode - that they're still performing is some sort of miracle. He went to visit the "Wall", and not just the one in Jerusalem. No, he went to visit the security barrier where he told us "it's tragic" seeing walls being erected. It is. But Dude! Don't you think that the whole anti abortion, anti gay marriage, anti birth control, anti ordination of women thing is like a wall between you and the real world? When are you going to tear that down? And those guys are not even trying to blow you up on buses.

But, on the positive side of things, Bar Refaeli, Israel's excellent physical specimen, was ranked the third "hottest" woman in the world by Maxim magazine. She came in right behind Megan Fox ad Olivia Wilde in the top 100. Hey that's 98 percentile. So there is one thing about Israel better than the 80%.

Okkervil River

I have been a member of emusic for a while. I get 50 downloads a month. Some months it's hard to find things I want to download, so I hit the recommendations. Sometimes I'm lucky, sometimes not. Last month I downloaded Okkervil River's album The Stage Names. I had never heard of them. But, I liked their stuff immediately. I think the track "John Allyn Smith Sails" is fantastic, but unfortunately I could not find a decent video. The video below is of "Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe", also a good track. Enjoy.



Their song, "Love to a Monster" must have some of the very harshest words I have heard in ages. It's the best breakup song I've heard this year.

Burn Baby Burn!

Tonight is Lag BaOmer, my least favorite Israeli holiday. Last year I blogged the following rant. I'm quite proud of it.

"On top of it all, today is Lag BaOmer. The day that Israel goes crazier than usual and burns all the wood in the country. We have very few trees here in this desert we call home. All the wood we need is imported from various depleted rain forests around the world. Once a year, we encourage all our children to rob building sites and steal anything that can burn, then set about maximizing our carbon footprint by lighting bonfires on every available patch of land. Everything that can light is burned. The air gets full of soot. No one sleeps because teenagers spend the night screaming at each other over the flames of burning Vodka bottles. The supermarket trolleys that are stolen to move the giant piles of wood lifted from building sites are left standing charred in fire's ashes like the buildings of Hiroshima. Over the course of the night the hospitals are filled with Darwin Award candidates sporting varying degrees of body burns."

Helpless

While I try keep upbeat about life, sometimes the despair just takes over. Nothing rocks my world more than when I come in from work only to find the house trashed and the kids shirking any responsibility for the disorder. Either they left the house without a second thought for the others that live here, or else they're completely oblivious to the mess. Where have we gone wrong? Why is it impossible for them to realize that doing some dishes, cleaning the cat box or taking out the trash are just a tiny fraction of what it takes to keep this family running. They are not little children. I understand their difficulty in thinking of their future, but this is the present we are talking.

I hate facing failure in myself. I suppose the despair is just my utter lack of success in getting through to my kids about these simple things. I'm furious that this parenting thing has completely beaten me.

It's the Humus, Stupid.

Blacksono and I set off this morning for Haifa. The plan was to visit the Maritime and Illegal Immigration Museums, which I have driven past for years, but never investigated. We left home a little too early for the museums, so we drove up the Carmel and stopped to take in the view from the Stella Maris Church . I had forgotten how pretty Haifa can be, what with it's mountains and all. While gazing out over the city, I remembered, Haifa = Humus. My build-in high tech 3D humus locator engaged and I saw!!!


We were still a little early, so the boy suggested we drive around a bit. Soon we were lost in the maze of streets that's downtown Haifa. At some point we stumbled upon a flea market, with the usual stash of stolen goods . The boy looked for his missing computer, but no luck.

Then I saw it. . Abu Shakker. Humus nirvana. Years ago, Beni took me here on the way back from a funeral in the Kryot. When squints returned from weekend family visits to Haifa, they used to bring us kilos of the stuff. As the sign says, Mother Hegget has been making humus here since 1936. And believe me, they've got it right. So blacksono and I went in.

We were seated at one of the four tables inside, hot pitot (multiple pita breads) were dumped on our table. Our orders arrived in minutes. Check this out:

It was as good as I remember. Creamy and smooth, nutty and warm. As we sat and ate, the place got busier and busier. Ima Hegget was sitting outside preparing the tabouli. She told me that on Saturday mornings they keep making humus, non-stop (a new Hebrew word this, nonnnstopp) and they always sell out by noon. By the time we left, the line to the counter was out the door and one wise guy wanted to know why the "doctor of humus" doesn't give out numbers like in the Kupat Holim (medical services). I bought a kilo to take home for the family.

The boy and I did the only reasonable thing after such perfection. We agreed, "screw the museum" and drove back home, full to exploding and completely happy.

Nodules

Let's talk nodules. My lovely wife's family are really big on massages. They love to massage each other and themselves, but mostly they love to receive massages. Now my family, we're normal people who don't really get into our backs being randomly palpitated by a complete amateur's sweaty palms. Anyway, blackwifeo's family are all plagued by these things called "nodules" in their backs. You often hear things like "What a day! my back is full of nodules" or "there, there can't you feel it, that's the nodule that's been bothering me". Blackwifeo will often beg for a "back rub" (she knows not to call it a massage around me, masseurs do massages, reluctant fools do back rubs). And I being a kind soul will usually give in after some bribery. She will then proceed to instruct me on exactly where the "nodules" are to be found. "Can't you feel it?" she will ask, "it's right there". Honestly, in 22 years of marriage I have NEVER felt, let alone removed, one of these wondrous nodules. Yet blackwifeo and her family members discuss them, describe them, and it seems have no trouble removing them from each others aching backs.

It seems us ostrinos are just stronger.

The Earring

Finding a black earring is hard work. I have searched the world and now have quite a collection of earrings, none costing more than $1.99. I get so many infections from the crap metal, that the alcohol used to clean a crusty, sore ear piercing lives by our sink. So when the lovely and vivacious blackwifeo slyly interrogated me as to what I wanted for my birthday (she very subtly proclaimed, "You're impossible to buy anything for, if you don't tell me what do you want, you're getting nothing", I told her I wanted a "nice" earring (knowing that nice equals expensive for bwo). She bitched and moaned about how busy she is and how it's not possible to find that kind of thing just anywhere. But, she is a shopping savant.

Well yesterday she presented me with my very own hand made, white gold, sapphire filled earring (it looks black, OK, it's a "black" sapphire, they do exist, look on wikipedia). I love it. My bwo rocks.

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Wouldn't you want to spend your birthday in an hour and a half accreditation meeting (at least they had cake) follow by a four and a half hour school board meeting. I would.

When I finally came home, blackdaughtero had bought me this trippy usb-powered fan, with funky disco lights. It's super cool.

Gogol Bordello

I have a particular liking for anything out of the ordinary as far as music goes. At one point I discovered "gypsy-punk" music. Let's face it, who would not want this song at their wedding. Thanks to Scarlet for pointing me to Gogol Bordello's "American Wedding". Their whole latest album, Super Taranta!, is filled with joy and energy.


p.s. Have you ever been to an American wedding, where's the Vodka, where's marinated herring?

Why Us?

Sometimes I forget we live in the desert. My car was clean yesterday. Then last night it rained mud. Then came the sharav. The hot, dry wind that howled around the house all night and caused all sorts of power spikes at work today. It was so unpleasant that walking was completely out of the question this morning. If this is a taste of the summer to come, I want out of here. Now!

What was so wrong with Uganda anyway?

Unbelievable

I was walking home today. As I approached the Seven Star Mall, a little white car pulled up next to me and carefully maneuvered itself into position behind the last car before the entrance to the parking lot, partly blocking the exit. See the picture above. I was certain the woman behind the wheel was waiting in her car for someone and was amazed when she got out her car and waddled off towards the mall. There were plenty of free spaces in front of the very car she parked behind. So I called to her and asked "Lady, why park there and block the traffic when you can park in the empty spaces in front of that black car?" I'm sure you all know what she answered "What do you care?" or "מה אכפת לך".

Tel Gezer

This morning's excursion was to Tel Gezer (check out the link to the parks board site, it's in Hebrew unfortunately, but very informative). I "called Martin's bluff" and he and Dean met me at 6am and off we motored to Karmi Yosef. The instructions off the web were spot on. We drove through the Moshav and parked on the dirt road that leads to the Tel. It looks unassuming from the road , which in ancient times was the junction of the main coastal highway connecting these lands to Egypt and Jerusalem (about 30km to the east). Gezer's history in a nutshell: Strategically placed with a view of the whole Shefelah (plain), it was initially conquered by Joshua. It was then under Philistine rule and was conquered by King David. According to the Bible, Pharaoh (probably Merneptah) first destroyed the city then gave it as a dowry to one of Solomon's wives. There are something like 26 layers of civilization at the site. Most of the site was dug in 1902 by R. A. Stewart Macalister, who carted off all the good finds to the British Museum and The Museum of the Ancient Orient in Istanbul.

The views are amazing. On one side you can see as far as Tel Aviv and the sea . On the other side is the Ella Valley, leading to Beit Shemesh, hazy in the early morning light .

Their most interesting find was the "Gezer Calendar", a giant replica of which is displayed at the site (the original is limestone, 11x7cm) . It's one of the oldest known examples of Hebrew writing, dating back to the 10th Century BCE and is believed to be a schoolkid's memory exercise.

There is much evidence of strong walls and big buildings , store rooms, guard towers and "Solomon's Gate" . Shards of pottery and ceramics are everywhere. Dean found this "proof", a piece of a handle to a ceramic pot, lying on the path . Of course, we returned it to it's resting place.

We saw some storks , and beautiful spring flowers of all shapes and colors and sizes .

Most interesting is the 10 monolith temple, with stone basin which is believed to be the venue where Gezer and nine neighboring cities forged an alliance. The basin may have served as a container for "blood libation" (according to the sign). Their water system is also particularly impressive. From this entrance they dug 40 meters into the rock till they reached ground water.

After walking the ring path around the Tel we made our way back to the car. Then, we had a "only in Israel" experience. Below one of the houses bordering the road, we met a man watching the bee-eater birds through his binoculars. He asked where we had been and we explained that we explored the Tel. He offered to show us something remarkable in his house. He leads us through his yard, past all sorts of interesting stones, into a gallery . Gershon Harel, our host, has been sculpting (obsessively) for three years. He makes figures out of clay. But, that's not all. He tells us that when he built his house he discovered an ancient (3000 year old) burial crypt in his basement (that's Dean being brave going down the stairs). Macalister and his archeologists removed anything interesting, but Gershon has set it up as a display area. Check it out: , the alcoves and the shadows make it all seem unreal . He certainly has been busy, there are armies of figures . The whole thing is awesome.

Gershon was friendly, intelligent and happy to share his knowledge. There was no overt selling, he was happy for us to just look in wonder. I should have bought some of his owls though.

We were home by 10am. Thanks Mart and Dean for an excellent time.

Production

I'm still worn out from yesterday's blog tirade. It was quite exhausting. So I have nothing specific to report today - only that I hate doing paperwork. My U.S. taxes are due soon and I have a bunch of school financial forms to fill out so I filed and Quicken'ed and sorted and trashed. Horrible work. It's amazing how much paper we still get in this electronic age. I have gone paperless wherever possible, yet it still accumulates until the piles get dangerously high and could topple and flatten the kids. Still it's always a good feeling when chaos is slowly beaten back and order shyly raises its golden head. And I only had one argument with blackwifeo, which resulted in me grovelling and nearly having to take two trips to Jerusalem and back for penance. She took pity and got a ride. So paperwork done, guitar binding sanded, music server updated, bomb shelter storeroom cleaned out, stairs cleared of debris and we hosted the whitegoato and her brood for more hours than expected. All in all, a productive Friday.