The Tale of a Canadian in Israel and Other Stories

Offensive Slang

2011-01-03T07:40:00.000+02:00

Sometimes everything works out great in Israel. Other times, no so much so. I recently had a run in with the dark side of Israelis, the park ranger with a bad attitude. No, I don’t mean Clint Eastwood style, rather a small Israeli park ranger. She was probably doing her national service, and had the misfortune to get stuck in the middle of nowhere under the blazing sun humoring the likes of me.

Normally, Israelis find it endearing when you say things like the Hebrew equivalent of "what's up dude", the untranslatable "kaparah alayich, einiem sheli, nishama." This literally means something like "an offering on you, my eyes, soul". Its one of those things you just have to say a million times to smirking Israelis before it makes sense. Anyway, trying to be cute and outgoing, I naturally slipped into some slang while looking for my park ticket. Big mistake, the diminutive ranger went ballistic. Not just the usual ranting, but psycho screaming. Apologizing profusely, I slunk back to the car and did not enter the park. I don’t think the Canadian in me could stand to make someone so mad I could literally see the steam pouring out of her ears. I was later told she was just having a bad day, but it really made me think.

I guess the moral of the story is to use slang cautiously, you never know who you might inadvertently offend. Wait, a real Israeli wouldn’t care who they offend… Well, its back to the drawing board…

Rabbinate without borders

2008-12-26T19:34:00.002+02:00

I found this article very interesting, another attack by Amos Harel of the rabanut. I would talk to the average secular soldier about the amazing shabbat in Jerusalem experience and what they take away from their service having learned more about their culture and faith, making them better civilians. Read the article and judge for yourself.

Rabbinate without borders
By Amos Harel - Haaretz

Capt. David Shapira, the paratroop officer who stopped a killing spree in Jerusalem's Mercaz Harav Yeshiva last March by killing the terrorist, recalled his experience on Monday in an interview with Army Radio. Divine grace, he told interviewer Ilana Dayan, was with him that night. He did not assault the terrorist with his M-16 rifle alone; he was guided by the divine power of faith.

Shapira is not exceptional. At an Israel Defense Forces conference a few weeks ago a battalion commander protested what he viewed as the critical tone of guest lecturers from outside the army. "I have soldiers who were killed for the sanctity of the land in Gaza," he said. The lecturers were upset: since when do IDF soldiers talk like that? But the officer refused to concede. Upon leaving the conference, he encountered a brigadier general who encouraged him. Don't let them confuse you, the brigadier general advised the lieutenant colonel. You're right. Incidentally, both officers are secular.

The IDF is changing before our eyes. It speaks a different language than it did a decade ago. This change has not been imposed from above; it came from below, from the platoon and company commanders. There is no point or justification for fighting this development when some 40 percent of recent officer course graduates wear skullcaps. The left's response - that it must send more kibbutz members to officers' school in order to "stop the religious takeover" - sounds arrogant and empty. Whether due to education, ideology or achievement orientation, the fact is that the religious Zionist community sends its sons to front-line units and officers' courses in greater numbers than any other segment of society. The army will have to learn to meet them halfway on noncritical issues. A religious combat soldier should not be forced to listen to a female singer or be taught by female sports instructors wearing shorts.

But there are times when the army gets confused. A good example is the behavior of the IDF's chief rabbi, Brig. Gen. Avichai Ronski. Two months ago, Haaretz published an investigative report on how the rabbinate has taken over the IDF's educational programs and injected extremist content into the explanatory talks it gives to soldiers. Since then, new evidence has accumulated. Ronski gives Torah classes in jails, including to convicted Jewish terrorists; the rabbinate conducted a tour of Hebron for soldiers in Military Intelligence in which they met with Rabbi Dov Lior (who compared the dismantling of the Federman Farm outpost to his family's expulsion by the Gestapo); a settler accused of assaulting and wounding Palestinians is currently spending his house arrest in Ronski's home.

In response to the Haaretz report, Chief of Staff Gabi Ashkenazi instructed the head of the IDF's Personnel Directorate to reexamine the boundaries between the Education Corps and the rabbinate. Since then, however, not much has changed. In a recent letter to his staff, Ronski informed them that it was business as usual.

A green folder in Ronski's office contains printouts of the emails he received following the Haaretz report. The commander of the Golani Brigade's reconnaissance unit, the commander of the Shavta Base and the chief medical officer's aide in charge of dentistry all expressed shock at Haaretz's "tendentious and baseless" reports and encouraged him to continue his important work. Ronski is convinced that the troops are with him.

In his view, the Torah is not Judaica; it is not a museum exhibit. Its essence is its national aspect, the connection to the Land of Israel. He is not the chief rabbi for religious soldiers only, nor is he the army's chief kashrut supervisor. That is not why he returned to full-time service after 30 years in the reserves. If his activities are restricted, he would prefer to return to his 200 students at the yeshiva in the settlement of Itamar, most of whom are combat soldiers.

Next October, his term of office expires. Ronski is afraid that his successor will be more in the "Zionist ultra-Orthodox" mode - a group that causes less consternation among the influential leftist media, which he himself refuses to read.

In Ronski's view, his staff has merely filled the vacuum left by the Education Corps. A Shabbat in the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem's Old City, under the rabbinate's auspices, is preferable to a vacation weekend in Ashkelon. On one side of the scale is values-based education, to bolster the recruits' morale by finally showing them what they are fighting for. On the other is the "Sunday culture" of stand-up comics and American movies.

Ronski consistently preaches against draft dodging - a view that requires a non-negligible amount of fortitude given his ideological milieu. He has greatly strengthened the rabbinate's connection with combat units and introduced more reserve combat officers into the rabbinate's ranks. But overall, the impression is that no one is supervising or counterbalancing the messages his rabbis are giving combat soldiers - least of all the IDF chief rabbi himself, who has said in private conversations that in his view, "overall, a religious soldier fights better than a secular one."

That is a narrow-minded, arrogant view that reflects contempt not only for the Education Corps, but for the army's (still) secular majority. Its rationale is also dubious: If the IDF failed in Lebanon two years ago because of its "combat values," as Ronski claims, how does that fit with the fact that so many of the junior officers were religious, and thus presumably brimming with values?

Ashkenazi did not appoint Ronski as the IDF's chief rabbi; he inherited him from his predecessor as chief of staff, Dan Halutz. But it seems that he would be wise to summon Ronski and make it clear, once and for all, where the boundaries of an IDF chief rabbi's activity and speech properly lie.

Cooking Loof

2008-12-05T15:13:00.003+02:00

The proverb “revenge is a dish best served cold” obviously applies to loof. It would seem that not only does loof get its gastronomic revenge on your eventually, its effects can be exacerbated by heating it up. While on a camping trip recently, I figured it would be brilliant to stick an open can on a camp stove and heat up a nice can of chicken loof. I never understood why it was always eaten cold in the army, I found that with enough mustard, it was even palatable. It was also the one thing no one ever wanted, so whenever we had a meal in the field, it was great to be the only one of a hundred people who would actually eat the stuff.

I quickly found out that heating loof is perhaps not the best idea, as huge black clouds started billowing from the small stove and a horrible smell emerged. I would equate the smell of cooking/burning loof with the smell of cooking an entire cat, but since I have never had cat, I can’t say for sure. Regardless, I would recommend eating it out of the can cold, slicing it and cooking with it, dicing it, etc. I have heard quite a few stories of cutting it up, sticking it into a small pan, and cooking it on the engine of a tank, I am sure this is a better smelling and tasting was to cook loof.

Enjoy, and don’t forget to send me your favourite loof recipes!

Ode to a Phigeon

2008-08-19T19:57:00.000+03:00

A Phigeon and I sat for a cup of tea,
I looked at him, he looked at me.

How did he taste, I thought,
He wondered the same,
The taste of chicken coursing through my brain.
He tempted me and taunted,
Rubbed me with sauce,
But in the end it was futile, simply his loss.

While we both lived to die another day,
I somehow feel the Phigeon wont come back to play.

Ode to a sandwich

2008-06-16T03:34:00.001+03:00

I always knew you were the one for me,
Open face and hot,
You are the greatest bun,
I really like you a lot.

Do you like toppings,
Lots of tasty treats,
I like everything,
Including piles of meat.

Load my sandwich up for me,
This is what Ill have,
Give me everything you got,
Just don’t make me mad.

Rye is nice,
Pastrami too,
How about some kugel,
And a pickle or two?

Chicken salad,
Mashed potatoes,
Rice and gravy,
Pickled tomatoes.

Burgers with meat,
Platters of deli,
I want it all,
In my belly.

You’re the best sandwich I ever did see,
That’s how I knew you were the one for me.

Food, a Road Trip and Friends

2008-05-26T04:32:00.002+03:00

I was thinking about writing something, but I cant remember what I was thinking of writing. I was positive it had something to do with food, a road trip and friends, so here goes.

I woke up, confused, not sure where I was. Staggering out of the car into the freezing cold, I noticed we were in a gas station. I looked at my watch and realized I had been sleeping for at least the past eight hours, and really needed to pee. Once I had answered the call of nature, I headed back to the car and slept until I was awoken by the smell of fresh deep fried chicken. That was a very strange trip to Washington DC and Silverspring, Maryland. It was made stranger still by the many police stops while driving back to Canada, it seems that I was in the back sleeping each time and my friend was driving, apparently just a bit too fast. But this story was not about any of those things, in fact, it’s the story of a completely different road trip.

In this completely different story, I was with a bunch of friends in New York on a road trip. One of my friends, being very into food and teenage hi-jinx, stopped into a popular restaurant and ordered us all food. While we were waiting, he dumped the toppings and condiments intended for several hundred into his cooler and we spent the next four days eating relish and pickled onions.

It does not seem like that’s what I was thinking of either. I guess I can try one last time to jog my old tired memory into the right story.

There was this one time I was fishing with a friend in the boat a couple of kilometers downriver from the small Northern town my family was living in at the time. After an hour or so of trolling for bites, the engine suddenly spluttered and stopped. We tried pumping the gas, kicking the engine, praying for a miracle, but nothing worked and we were stuck, floating in the middle of a small lake. My friend suddenly went into panic mode and started talking about living of the land, Tom Hanks in Castaway, cannibalism, and would anyone ever rescue us. I pointed out we could row back, or for that matter, get out and walk along the shore for twenty minutes to get home. I think that just made him panic more. I gave the engine one last kick and tried to start it, and shockingly it sprang to life and we were saved. Heading back to the town we were just on time for dinner and I was not even a bit hungry.

From New York to Tzfat

2008-05-11T13:22:00.000+03:00

While in Tzfat last week I was walking though the artist’s colony, basically a narrow alleyway of galleries, shops and weary Israelis selling the tourists bracelets. As I was walking, I passed the store of a guy dressed in traditional Yemenite clothing and making lachoch, a type of pancake with tomatoes, peppers and hot sauce sprinkled on top. It was not the sight of food which made me hungry, but the incredible aroma wafting down the street. It smelled like a bit of heaven fallen into a pan. Even though I had eaten twenty minutes before, I had to stop in for some of what he was selling. The man was cheerfully greeting passing customers and offering them some traditional Yemenite food. I ordered a pancake with all the trimmings (easy on the hot sauce) and a delicious cup of iced lemon-mint drink.

While I was sitting in the store relaxing on the low sofas, I started to find out a bit more about the proprietor. He did not always live in Tzfat, or for that matter dress like he just walked out of Yemen. He grew up in Rishon L’Tzion and had a very normal and traditional Israeli life. Following the army, he got married and together with his wife decided to seek out the Israeli dream, life in America. He lived in New York for nearly a decade selling art and being moderately successful, living a comfortable lifestyle. I could not understand how someone who leaves Israel for the States and makes things work could ever possibly end up selling pancakes while wearing a robe and a funny hat in Tzfat. He told me that he has a friend who was tired of the lifestyle in Israel. He was sick of driving a beat up old car, having second hand things and yearned for the good life in the States. He set off to make his fortune in the US and for a while, things worked out great. He had a pretty good job, bought a relatively nice car, and he was satisfied with what he had. Over time, the guy began to notice that even though his car and home were a lot nicer than what he had in Israel, it still didn’t compare to what other people had in the States. While he had achieved a level of material success, he missed his friends and family back home in Israel, and eventually made the move back. When he returned, he saw that his friends beat up cars were now second hand as opposed to third or fourth, their houses were a bit bigger and overall people were happier with what they have. The guy then bought a fourth hand car and rented a small apartment and started over again. I guess the moral of the story is you can make money anywhere, and live anywhere, but the most important thing is to be happy with what you have. My Yemenite host continued to tell me that everyone in Israel might not be able to afford steaks, but pretty much everyone can afford a piece of chicken. In the States you might be able to afford more steak, but will probably have less friends dropping by for the BBQ.

I was struck by how happy this guy was. Its refreshing to see him, just doing his thing, living his life, and having the right goals. It was really nice to meet someone who finally found the thing they really wanted to be doing, and for the right reasons. He was not living in Tzfat for the money or the prestige, but found a place he is happy in, and doing a job which would seem crazy to most, but makes him, and his customers, happy. He told me he was not really sure about moving to Tzfat and selling pancakes when he was living in New York, but decided to humor his wife and try it for a year. That was ten years ago, and he is still doing what makes him happy today.

How to invite a chayal boded (lone soldier) for Passover

2008-04-01T15:27:00.002+03:00

If you want to invite a chayal boded (a lone soldier who is doing his or her service in Israel without any family) for Passover, contact me for the army contact to get the process started. They will send you a form to fill out and upon approval you have guests for the seder. Its a really big mitzva and very interesting to meet soldiers who left home to serve in the army. You can request soldiers who speak English, French, Russian, Spanish and Hebrew.

A Must Read

2008-02-15T16:19:00.002+02:00

Thinking about Shlav Bet? The good, the bad, the ugly: http://jonnydegani.livejournal.com/

More Shlav Bet pretty sounding PR

2007-12-27T01:33:00.000+02:00

As this new article in the Jpost shows, the army loves to announce the great opportunities available to Shlav Bet. They seem to leave out the part which requires you to sign up for more time, in some cases years in order to serve in the soldiers field.

'Shlav Bet' soldiers to get better jobs By SHELLY PAZ, Jerusalem Post Dec 16, 2007

Immigrant soldiers serving in the IDF's Shlav Bet shortened service program will be assigned to technological and academic units that will utilize their professional skills, the army announced Sunday.

In addition, the army stressed that immigrant soldiers assigned to more desirable positions would be asked to serve for a longer period, extending their service to at least one year.

The IDF changed its policy toward Shlav Bet soldiers after a story in The Jerusalem Post published in August 2007 revealed that the IDF was not efficiently assigning skilled immigrant soldiers with academic degrees, work experience and high motivation to positions that would utilize their skills and education.

The standard Shlav Bet program, designed for new immigrants between the ages of 22 and 25 who are required to serve in the IDF, lasts from four to six months. The program includes basic training and an optional ulpan. The IDF's ulpan class, especially designed for new immigrants, spans two months and is taught by soldiers from the Education Corps. Olim who arrive after the age of 25 will not be allowed to volunteer for the program.

After the ulpan, the soldiers spend three months training for a variety of positions, including tractor and truck drivers, tank mechanics and artillerymen. The feeling among many new immigrant soldiers who fall into this category is that the IDF does not take their work experience and academic education into consideration when allocating army jobs, and does not invest in them because of the shortened period of military service.

Native Israeli men and immigrants who serve in the army before the age of 22 serve three years; women serve 18 months.

Some of the unsatisfied soldiers said they wished they had made aliya after the age of 25 to escape what they termed "useless" service in the army.

"Today, the army fights for every soldier against the private sector," a Shlav Bet soldier told Post military correspondent Yaakov Katz in August. "When it receives highly skilled and highly motivated resources, it should not waste them through bureaucratic inefficiency."

On Sunday, the IDF promised its new program would better utilize the professional skills the newly arrived soldiers bring with them, starting from the current Shlav Bet induction.

"According to this new policy, the recruits will participate in a seminar in which explanations on the IDF's needs and opportunities will be given to them," the IDF said. "Afterward, the soldiers will be interviewed for the available positions in technological units and will be assigned in accordance with their skills and professions."

2007-12-07T12:26:00.000+02:00

Sergey Segal at tironout

This is us at night (shah tash) during basic training sitting around and doing a whole lot of not much before bedtime.

Check out this blog

2007-09-17T00:56:00.000+02:00

I would highly recommend this blog written by a young woman who recently completed her military service. She goes by the name of Mad Zombie Hunter, and this is one of the only blogs about the craziness, fun, trials and tribulations in the IDF which made me laugh out loud. Not just smile, but laugh so hard I thought I was going to have an accident. I have an extremely different and much more optimistic outlook on army life, hearing it from the other side was very refreshing and entertaining. Starting from the bottom post and basic training to the top and getting out of the army, its a wild ride, and an insight into what people are sometimes really thinking.

Check it out at http://www.poe-news.com/forums/sfs.php?fi=U9407

Black vs Srugie

2007-08-29T22:30:00.000+03:00

From the Jerusalem Post:

Aug 10, 2007 8:42 | Updated Aug 10, 2007 8:42
Haredi rabbis in IDF fear replacement
By JPOST.COM STAFF

Haredi rabbis in the IDF rabbinate are concerned that the army wants to replace them with rabbis from the national religious sector, Israel Radio reported on Friday.

The rabbis say the haredi presence in the military rabbinate is decreasing, and that there is a growing tendency to prepare national-religious officers for the rabbinate.

According to one IDF source, the fact that priority is given to rabbis coming from fighting units rather than haredi yeshivot could cause a rift between those yeshivot and the army.

The report also said the number of rabbis taking the army's officer's course has doubled in the past year, and even tripled in comparison to previous years. The rabbis receive the rank of lieutenant following the course.

The IDF said in response to the report that the number of rabbis pressed into officer positions due to a shortage of reservist rabbis has grown, and added that the army respects every rabbi as-is and will continue to encourage the service of haredi officers.

> There are so many things that are wrong with this, I dont know where to start. Oy.

Training Day

2007-08-22T23:59:00.000+03:00

Before joining the army, I was curious, nervous and very excited. I had no idea what was going to happen, and put a lot of irrational fear and over thinking into what it would be like. I researched, checked blogs, scoured the internet, and finally built what I thought was an accurate portrayal of the army in my head. I realized I had no idea what was going to happen when I walked into Ricochet with my friend Josh and ordered everything on my extensive list, a combination of suggestions I had read on the internet, the army’s checklist, and something from the Jewish Agency. I got things I never used, but it’s still good to have some random piece of kit in your bag, just in case. I try to make my motto “always be prepared”, and while I am not much of a boy scout, having a safety pin in your pocket can be real handy sometimes. Leading up to the army, I think I watched Full Metal Jacket way too many times; it really made me expect something altogether different than what actually happened. When we got our rifles for the first time, someone did start singing “this is my rifle, this is my gun” which was an ongoing joke for the English speaking guys during basic training. Everywhere during basic someone was quoting that movie, or someone rattling on about gumbo or Vietnam ala Forrest Gump. In many ways, basic training was a lot like summer camp with guns with a few small differences. Lots of long days, plenty of running around, formations, tons of food, constant snacks, great friends, and plenty of small annoyances. I found it critical to think positive, and looking back I think I had a great time. One of my teammates told me I did a lot of grumbling and always wanted more information about what is coming next. I did remember not being very happy with the first couple weeks and not knowing what was going to happen, eventually we had a posted schedule of the weeks’ activities.

I recently showed a friend who is a former US Marine my pictures from basic and he said he was shocked we looked like we were having a good time. He said “It looks like summer camp, in the Corps they were actually like in the movies”. I love it that in Israel the point of the army is not exclusively to make you the best soldier you can be, they are always thinking about what comes next and how to make you the best civilian you can be. The trips to cultural, national and religious attractions I have gone on in the army have only reinforced how important the country is to the army, and the soldiers who serve in it.

Getting back to basic, I did have tons of questions, I wanted to understand every aspect of the army, and how everything worked. I got to know the term “sheylat kitbag” or kitbag question quite well. It refers to a more or less obvious and idiotic question you pulled out of your army duffle bag that you were saving from when you joined the army. The response to this type of question is also used when the NCO has no idea what the answer is and wants to make something up. For example, our rifles during basic training were long M16’s from the Vietnam era, older than pretty much anyone on the base. One of the NCOs told us that the reason there was a picture of a horse engraved on the side of the gun is because the Colt Company used to be a toy manufacturer. The story goes that they decided to make rifles since it proved to be more profitable than making toys. My friend and I volunteered to research the topic and provide some factual information about the M16, Colt, and the origins of the modern rifle. We went through all the information Wikipedia had on the subject, and came up with a great briefing. During our “camping out” time around the shooting ranges, the entire team sat around in a circle and we shared the story of the M16, from when it was developed post WWII to today.

The army in general is a relaxed place. Soldiers call each other bro, and soldiers address officers by their first name. Saluting is usually reserved for ceremonies and training, everyone is always ready to do what they have to do if required. I love it that people are always so in touch with the folks back home, coming home weekends, constantly on the phone, and always planning weekend activities. Service here is all about making friends, doing a great job, serving the country, and really being a part of something special.

Schwartz and the mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream sundae

2007-08-22T23:58:00.000+03:00

I got an email a couple days ago from someone asking for another Schwartz story, so here is one from way back in the day. Since my memory is not really all that great, this story is how I best recollect things. This means that this story may be completely different than how it happened, or an elaborated version of real events.

Schwartz and the mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream sundae

We were once hanging out in downtown Toronto, enjoying a nice day strolling around the busy streets. I don’t remember what we were doing down there, except it was a rather warm day and there were plenty of birds chirping. Walking into a nearby mall, we walked around and window shopped, Schwartz looked at the clothing and accessories stores, while I carefully perused the computer and gadget places. After a while, Schwartz told me he was in the mood for something, something cold and delicious. Unaware of what he could be referring to, we continued to ramble, until we happened upon an ice cream stand. Schwartz’s eyes lit up and I thought of my Dad saying “make sure your big eyes match your stomach”. It was hard to take in the multitude of flavors and options; there was just so much milky goodness. I decided on one of my all time favorites, a scoop of daiquiri ice, which is a strange tasting pale green sorbet. I was also eyeing the tiger tail, another favorite of mine. It made up of orange sherbet filled with swirls of melted black licorice and quite a good contrast. My usual third option is my fallback plan, French vanilla. If it was not for the fact I was lactose intolerant, I would be eating a whole lot more of plain vanilla ice cream.

Getting back to Schwartz, he was thinking about going for the mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream sundae. This amazing sundae contained everything a mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream treat should, a dozen huge scoops of ice cream, a split banana, peaks of whip cream, all topped off by sprinkles, nuts and of course, cherries. I don’t think in the history of the ice cream shack had someone actually ordered a mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream, and the woman at the counter asked twice to make sure this is what he really, really wanted. Confirming that he really did want a mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream treat, could pay for it, and would probably eat several, the nervous counter woman started to scoop the ice cream. I think she may have felt a little guilty, since it’s like someone going in to a store and asking for a thousand corn beef sandwiches, they just have to make sure you don’t want to just put an end to everything. After all, who hasn’t heard of death by chocolate? Scoop by scoop the ice cream started piling up in the enormous sundae dish. I lost count of how many there were, first came the plain vanilla scoops followed by chocolate. Jamaican chocolate rum, cookie dough, fudge, maple walnut, strawberry cream, cookies and cream, cream and cookies and many, many more followed. Once the ice cream was arranged just so on the tray, an entire can of whipped cream, or several thousand calories worth, followed. From the forests of Brazil rained hundred of various nuts, closely followed by a rainbow of sprinkles and candy bits. Not to be outdone, several scoops of crushed cookie were liberally applied, and to top it all off, enough cherries to, well, enough cherries. The mega-super-ultra-stupendous ice cream sundae was all its name said it would be, and a lot more. After waiting patiently as this stupendous ice cream concoction was created, Schwartz dug in with gusto.

I won’t go into detail about what happened next, suffice it to say he stared the sundae in the eye, and it didn’t blink. Since that day, I think about projectile vomiting in a whole new way. The lesson to learn here is, if the ice cream is mega-super-ultra-stupendous, just walk away and leave it alone before it comes looking for you.

Making it in Israel (my heroes)

2007-08-13T07:42:00.000+03:00

I guess in a way it was easy for me to start a new adventure in Israel. After I went to the dig in 2005, I had a house to go to, knew people on my Moshav, and felt like I had a place here. Despite being an outsider, not really speaking Hebrew, not knowing all that many people who still lived here, I still had somewhere to go home to. During the last couple years, I went to Ulpan, joined the army, went digging, and put together all the pieces of my life. Thinking back, I guess I really had it easy. Even though my house didn’t have windows when I arrived and was undergoing a huge renovation, and I spent a couple months sleeping in a tent and sleeping bag, because we didn’t have windows yet, I still didn’t have to pay rent or feel pressured to make things work.

My heroes are my friends who I see slogging it out on a daily basis to make the dream of aliyah work. Its hard to impossible to stay in Israel without adapting and integrating, things made much harder while putting themselves through school, working and always juggling a dozen things. The fact that they pull it off is a huge inspiration to me, it really shows that with effort, determination and desire, you can accomplish anything. I have such enormous respect for the people who are making a go of it with their best foot forward, I think that a couple years of struggling, directed in the right direction can pay off with huge dividends later on in life. Maybe an Oleh without that initial struggle doesn’t really understand what it’s like to truly be Israeli and is still living in tourist mode. Deciding you’re going to go ahead with making the radical change of coming to Israel, and making it work no matter what is amazing. It really makes you part of the whole, like it says in the Salach Shabati movie, “I may have it hard now, but just wait till I am the old hand and new people come to Israel, I am totally going to have fun with them”. Before you know it you become a real part of society and are a major part of making it better.

Kol Hakavod.

Utopia in a fortune cookie

2007-08-06T17:35:00.000+03:00

Confucius from the "The Wisdom of Confucius"

"When things are investigated, then true knowledge is achieved;

when true knowledge is achieved, then the will becomes sincere;

when the will becomes sincere, then the heart sees correctly;

when the heart sees correctly, then the personal life is cultivated;

when the personal life is cultivated, then the family life is regulated;

when the family life is regulated, then the national life is orderly;

and when the national life is orderly, then there is peace in this world."

Finally, some changes to Shlav Bet!

2007-08-03T15:55:00.000+03:00

From Jpost

Aug. 3, 2007 1:45 | Updated Aug. 3, 2007 15:34
IDF revamping 'Shlav Bet' for new olim
By YAAKOV KATZ

Under pressure from new immigrants and in an effort to encourage aliya and better utilize its human resources, the IDF is in the final stages of revamping its Shlav Bet program for immigrant men who join the army in their mid-20s and plans to begin tailoring jobs for those from Western countries, The Jerusalem Post has learned.

The new plan, the brainchild of OC Human Resources Maj.-Gen. Elazar Stern, is designed to better utilize immigrants who arrive in Israel at an age at which they can still serve in the IDF. The program is a joint effort with the Immigrant Absorption Ministry, which plans to advertise the initiative on its Web site and in target communities in the West.

In the meantime, the Post has learned of a group of new immigrants currently serving in Shlav Bet who, lamenting that they were wasting much of their time and could perform more useful service, sent a proposal including a number of key recommendations on Thursday to Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, Defense Minister Ehud Barak and to IDF Chief of General Staff Lt.-Gen. Gabi Ashkenazi.

Shlav Bet is a service track designed for new immigrants aged 22 to 25. It consists of six months of military service including basic training, an optional Hebrew ulpan and then a course that trains the soldiers to fill a variety of positions - including as tractor drivers, tank mechanics, artillery operators and truck drivers. On average, the IDF holds two Shlav Bet drafts a year consisting of some 200 recruits.

Following the drop in the number of immigrants to Israel and a simultaneous increase in the number of immigrants coming from Western countries such as the United States, France and Great Britain, the IDF decided to revamp the program and instead of "throwing" soldiers into jobs while ignoring their degrees and work experience, the army will now work to find personally-tailored jobs for the new recruits.

"The makeup of new olim today has changed," a senior officer in the IDF Human Resources Department told the Post Thursday. "We are aware of this and are working to make the necessary changes so we can better utilize the soldiers and their skills."

In their own proposal sent out this week, the Shlav Bet soldiers bring two examples of soldiers who came to Israel highly motivated and with advanced degrees but spent their military service cleaning gardens in various military bases. One soldier had a degree in international relations from Oxford University and had worked in the British Parliament. He asked to serve in the IDF's Strategic Planning Division but instead spent months cleaning Northern Command headquarters in Safed.

"We came to Israel to serve in the army and contribute," a Shlav Bet soldier told the Post. "But instead we are doing absolutely nothing and we, as a human resource, are being wasted."

Fearing a drop in aliya numbers, the IDF is planning to interview all recruits for the next Shlav Bet draft, scheduled for December, prior to their enlistment and to try to find them jobs that suit their qualifications.

This week, the IDF signed up a new immigrant with an engineering degree from MIT to a three-year service in the air force. It does not, however, promise to replicate anything like that for Shlav Bet soldiers. And if a Shlav Bet recruit would like to serve in a more serious job according to his/her qualifications, he or she would need to sign on for an extended military service of at least one to two years.

Jobs will be found "according to the degrees and qualifications the recruits come with," an officer said. "We are looking for people with degrees in exact science, engineering and international relations. If someone comes with a degree in fitness or sports, we may not be able to make use of that."

Breakfast

2007-07-31T19:27:00.000+03:00

This morning while walking though the mall in Be’er Sheva, I passed one of my favorite shwarma stands. Since it was 8:45am, they were just setting up, putting out the salads and preparing for a bust day in the mall. Since I was hungry, and would probably miss lunch at the base, I decided to grab a quick bite, perhaps a pita with some salads. The owner of the shwarma joint, recognizing me, shouted out a cheery “good morning!” and the usual follow-up “what can I get you?”. I told him I was thinking about something light, maybe a pita with salad, and he gave me a dirty look. “Listen soldier,” he said “when I was your age in the army, I would eat meat the second I woke up till the second I went to bed”. I explained that not only was it a bit early to be eating roasted shwarma, but I was afraid if it was undercooked, it would kill me. He explained that a real man ordered shwarma in the morning and had it grilled, making sure it was perfect to eat. My manhood having been called into question, I took him up on his offer and had a wonderful, if slightly burnt shwarma for breakfast. I guess this is another small step to being a true Israeli….

Shlav Bet considerations

2007-07-08T05:02:00.000+03:00

I am going to eventually get around to writing down everything that happened during Shlav Bet, but it seems that I never have any time these days... I have recently gotten a bunch of emails from guys thinking about going to shlav bet, wondering what the options are, etc. If you're considering it, wondering what its like, or have any questions, get in touch with me, I am happy to help you get on your adventure or put you in touch with someone that can. There are tons of people doing everything and anything in the army right now, with the right hookup, you can get sorted out.

Some things to think about...

Figure out what interests you and what your options are
Think about how much time you can commit, is doing whatever they offer you for six months a better idea than signing on for longer to do something you want to do?
Are you interested in being a combat soldier, tomech lichimah (combat support) or jobnick? See here for the differences.
Do you want to learn more Hebrew and try to become more Israeli or find a job where you can use your English (or other) language skills?
Try to arrange interviews even before you get into the army
Everything is possible, but at what type of commitment? Are you willing to put in the time needed to do something different?
Try to stay positive, smile, and embrace your experience, its going to be a great experience once you get through the bureaucratic mess, putting the right spin on things is the only way to get the most out of the short time youre going to be in the army.
Do you speak enough Hebrew, or do you need an ulpan? (before or during the army...)
Being even a bit older and more mature than the average soldier gives you a big advantage, make sure the army knows it.
How often and what type of millium (reserve duty) will you do?
Will you be using your education/background in your army service? Do you want to get into a special unit?
Do you have religious considerations? Do you know what the options are? What types of options would you consider? (this topic is a whole conversation on its own)
How do you feel about serving close to home vs somewhere more interesting

All the best in the army, its an amazing experience!

Shalom from Gaza

2007-07-08T04:53:00.000+03:00

Sidney and Ofir in the Shekem (canteen)

Waiting for some service in the shekem (canteen) - Check out the pin

Waiting for the bus to get home at Tzomet Ashkelon

Web surfing

2007-06-24T09:31:00.001+03:00

I ran out of things I wanted to see on the "interweb" today. Desperate to find a new site with endless hours of idiotic fun, I quickly found http://www.randomwebsite.com/ a site that sends you somewhere, anywhere, when you click the pipe smoking icon. As their site proclaims, "How often do you find yourself on the internet looking at the same boring pages? You know there is something out there but you don't know where to look"

A sampling of the sites I found myself visiting today:

http://despair.com/viewall.html
A website of professional despair
http://www.rinkworks.com/stupid/
Computer stupidities
http://www.kurtnoble.com/
The least designed web site of a web design company
http://www.washington.edu/home/maps/southwest.html
A map
http://democracynow.org/
"democracy" now
http://www.cognex.com/
Cognex - featuring the new checker 200 inspection sensors

So much out there, so little time...

Tel Zaharah 2007

2007-06-24T02:53:00.000+03:00

Erin bugged me to write something in my blog because it really has been so long, so here goes. After the last six months in the army, its finally come time for my first vacation week. Every four months, every soldier is entitled to a week off, and I suspect most spend it at home sleeping. Since I recently signed up to be in the army for at least a couple more years (more about that later), I had to fit my usual summer pursuit, archeological excavation, into a week instead of a couple months as I had originally planned. Today is the first day at Tel Zaharah 2007, which will one day translate into another T-shirt in my growing collection. I have always heard that the sign of a true Israeli is the large and varied ripped, stained and stretched T-shirt collection one amasses over the span of camp, army, or this and that. It sometimes seem that you can get a T-shirt for anything, I guess in a way it’s a lot like boy scout badges for tying your laces and walking across the street.

All in all, the dig was a lot of fun, but I spent way to little time out in the sun this summer...

Army notes (good things to know if youre going to Shlav Bet or the IDF)

2007-06-24T02:47:00.000+03:00

The guys in the previous and current shlav bet programs doing the ABC course only do 2-3 days of training in the place of miluim (reserve duty) every few years. I was in the Dec 06 program, which just finished a few days ago. We had options such as APC repair, ABC cleanup (with a week after basic training of shooting a MAG to upgrade to 03 from 02), heavy truck driver (over 15 tons), D9 driver (tractors and other equipment) for the homefront command and combat engineering, and general repairman. The APC course ended up getting canceled because not enough people were interested.

Every draft has slightly different courses and activities, depending on the needs of the army, the current budget and several other factors, you may get sent to a couple temporary postings after basic training, or go straight to a course. Like everything in the army, you hurry up and wait, and something usually happens with five seconds to spare.

They will try to pressure you to take a course on the spot and make up your mind, dont go for it, ask people and find what you want to do, then insist on getting that. After a while someone will probably end up helping you. There are unlimited opportunities in the army, with a million different jobs offering a wide range of possibilities. Its important to keep an open mind and remember that even the worst job, done in the best possible way with professionalism is recognized. For every job, someone has to do it, so it might as well be you doing your best.

Also, a couple more things.

Army food is generally good, depending on where you are located. Just remember that the army is a once in a lifetime experience, stay positive, and you may even come to enjoy breakfast food for dinner. Every base has a slightly different way of doing meals, but for the most part, the food is varied, tasty and fresh. I could not understand how people complain about army food after living on my base for a couple months, the food there is excellent. After broadening my horizons a bit more and visit more bases around the country, I realized I was relatively lucky to have cooks who actually care if the food tastes like mass produced sawdust.
My giyus in shlav bet had people ranging in age from 22-28, from all over the world, my team of 20 came from 15 countries. Its really interesting spending a considerable amount of time with people who the only language you have in common is Hebrew. Its also great practice for being in the real army, where people may not speak English at all.
People in the army love speaking English, always tell people youre working on your Hebrew and want to learn, that way you may actually learn some of the army slang
Always be friendly with everyone, particularly if they work in the kitchen. Its good to know the people with access to food, and be on good terms with all the people who can really help you out on a daily basis, or make your life miserable. Having a friend explain the endless paperwork can often save hours, and lots of pointless running around the base.
If youre in shlav bet, and ever feel the urge to say AD MATAY?! (until when, the moaning cry of soldiers with a couple years left to go) be prepared to justify yourself seeing as you'll be out of the army in a few months, and most everyone else in a couple years. A good sense of humor goes a long way to bridge the cultural divide and make people laugh instead of wanting to kill you for complaining.
Ask someone who has been in the army how to tie your boots before your first day, its a bit confusing, and no one at bakum has time to explain how to do it properly. Just remember that your boots should never have X's, they are always laced in straight lines.
Make sure to bring lots of extras, just get a huge 90L backpack and throw it all in. Having an extra elastic for your boots or a backup brush and polish can really come in handy.

Shlav Bet specific tips (accurate as of my draft):

You can work in lots of places, even without signing on for more time, its not easy, but it sometimes works. Before going in to the army, speak to people, find out what you might be interested in, and start going to interviews even before you go in. Making contacts is critical to your army success, as well as to life in general in Israel. Its always good to introduce yourself, ask names, make friends and build the contacts you will need at some point.
The D9 (tractor, backhoe, earthmover, etc)- Homefront command course is ONLY training, you are never in an actual unit. You do basic training, wait two months sweeping streets or doing something on some base, then go to your course for a couple months, and then finish. Only in miluim do you get assigned to a unit (maybe) or just come in for excersizes every couple years
The medic course is usually not offered without signing up for more time, the artillery course is sometimes offered, but you dont work on the artillery itself, just as a support soldier (since you only do 02 basic training, and artillery soliders need 03)

There are three kinds of soldiers in the army

1. Combat - For artillery and field intel: Training 03 and above 3+ months in basic training minimum. For infantry : Training 05 and above 5+ months in basic training minimum.

2. Jobnicks - Basic training 01 to 02 which takes a week to a month

3. Combat support troops (tomchei lechimah) - Basic training 02 which takes a month to five weeks. The basic training is the same as a jobnick soldier, but you get sent to a more dangerous area (with a small bonus for danger pay). Support troops do regular jobs in addition to a lot of guard duty, patrols, and operational support. I heard that combat soldiers think you're an idiot if you are support solider because you're really a jobnick and jobnicks think your crazy for being a combat solider. All in all, it can be a very interesting setting for an otherwise boring job.

Good luck in the army, it can really be a great time and a lot of fun!

Passover Army Update

2007-04-06T14:54:00.000+03:00

It’s been a long while since I last wrote anything; I seem to remember always being a lot less tired, and having a lot more energy to write things down. It seems that these days I spend most of my free time passing out, counting the hours till I have to get up again and go back at it. Memories get turned into a grey blur, if it was not for my journal, I would start forgetting most of it. That being said, I think the last few months have generally been an amazing experience, and I am sure I will get all the stories down eventually.

I have been enjoying my Passover miracle, I was meant to get one day of vacation, and somehow it turned into nine whole days of being off. I don’t know how it happened, but as the first real vacation I have had in the army, I am really enjoying it, matza or no matza.

After leaving basic training twenty or so pounds lighter and slightly more clued in to the Israeli mentality. It turns out that a contributing factor to all the laid back hippy elements in Israeli society stem from cultural rebellion to having repressed those few years while serving in the army. Judging by the guys coming in for reserve duty a few years after their service, most leave the daily shave and frequent haircut far behind them.

I was temporarily assigned to a base near Gaza to wait the two months until my course opened. We were offered a number of courses, and not really knowing if there was an advantage to being a truck driver over something else, I picked chemical warfare. It sounded interesting, and in the worst case scenario, at least we would have our space suits.

After meeting several people on my temporary base and interviewing with a number of officers, I sort of fell into the role of army chaplain. I found it to be a great job which helped me learn a lot about the army, and interact with soldiers from all over the army.

I decided to stay on the base and take a course from the Rabbinate instead, so I will now be there till the end of my service, which should be early this summer.

More when my brain works again.

Pictures from my swearing in ceremony

2007-01-27T17:59:00.000+02:00

Finished Basic Training

2007-01-20T18:02:00.000+02:00

A month after I first started basic training and the course attached to it, my time at Michveh Alon is finally over. It’s been an exhausting month, I never thought that I could really push myself on as little sleep and as much activity as I did. I made many close friends, and I hope to see most again soon at the courses we will eventually be sent to. One of my instructors told me the Hebrew equivalent of: “you’re a small cog in a huge machine, but everyone is important to make things work”. It was at times hard, cold and snowy, but somehow it all worked out well in the end.

We ended things off last week with a couple days in Jerusalem. For the first time, I got to see the Old City, the Jewish Quarter, Yad VaShem (the Holocaust museum), and Ammunition Hill from a new perspective. Going back to places I had been a million times before in uniform made a profound impact on me, and for the first time, I really started feeling like a soldier. We had a tekes (ceremony) at the Western Wall; everyone stood at attention and sang Hatikva (The Hope, the national anthem on Israel). I remember all the times I walked by and saw the same ceremony when I was younger, being on the inside and experiencing it first hand really made me feel a part of something much bigger, serving for something important and real. Being in uniform around civilians made a huge impact, it’s easy to forget everyone is dressed the same while on a base with thousands of people. When you stand out and are always aware you are different it really makes you think.

Next week is my swearing in ceremony, and my first assignment. I will be sent to a new base, and new job, and my first adventure with a bit of independence. Not having someone tell me what to do and where to be every second is going to be an interesting change, but I am glad I made it through tiranut (basic training).

So much to write about, I hope to catch up in the upcoming months when I have more time.

Random Tanfoglio Mossad 9mm pics

2007-01-15T08:13:00.000+02:00

The distributors in Israel: ISRAEL

BUL Ltd.
Rival Stret, 10 67778 Tel Aviv Tel. (972) 3 639 2911 Fax (972) 3 687 4853 E-Mail:info@bultransmark.com

See http://www.tanfoglio.it/index.html for more info

The second week summation

2006-12-30T17:22:00.000+02:00

The second week of my adventure in the army is over. It’s been a great week with tons of learning, many more push-ups, lots of new words, and plenty of new friends. My group has really been coming together this week, and we are starting to work as a team. It’s very difficult to make it through the challenges of each day, its great to have so much support from the group. Soldiers in our unit come from Canada, the US, India, Russia, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, Switzerland, Hungary, France and Israel, and that’s just my immediate unit. Each seventeen or eighteen hour day has been planned second by second, and it’s been a very good week. I don’t have much time off this weekend, and will be in for the next two weeks. Thanks to everyone for their calls and emails, here are some highlights from the weeks past in basic training.

Chanukah in the army was really nice, the sufganiot were not that great, but seeing the candles and singing Chanukah songs at dinner time made it really special.

The army is much like an archeological excavation with less digging and more running. The sleep depravation, immediate chain of command, and endless activity seem very familiar, and I think I am adapting well to army life.

I have met officers from our unit and those in charge of the base. Everyone really knows what they are doing, and from our drill sergeant all the way up, I think we are in good hands.

You can never have enough gumiot. They are the small elastics which hold your pants up, and having many spare on and can really be a life saver when they get lost at least once a day.

I figured out how to properly put on my uniform, it looks a lot better now and I finally feel confidant that I look like a soldier. I also learned how to properly tie my boots, one of the more critical soldering skills to have.

While standing in formation a couple nights ago, it started snowing on all of us. The snow was a reminder of Canada, although my Dad told me that they don’t have much snow yet, a bizarre reversal.

In the rain/snow this week there was a magnificent rainbow right off the base, it was by far the clearest and closest I have ever seen a rainbow.

I now know all the parts of the M-16 in Hebrew and can field strip and reassemble it in about 1:20. I am hoping with more practice I can get it down to under a minute.

My first sit-ups of the army turned out to be more like modified crunches, several hundred more and I are sure I will get the hang of it. I am getting much better at pushups, my daily high is around 100 with 20 at one go.

Rain, snow, cold, wind, and hail all made better by insanely strong army tea laced with enough sugar to kill a horse.

Much more detail and many more stories during my next leave, sorry for being so short, but I have to get back to sleep and try to do some more catching up.

First week down

2006-12-23T21:36:00.000+02:00

It’s been a very long and exhausting week. The transition from civilian to military life has been drastic, but I seem to be catching on quickly.

From my first day at Bakum (the central in-processing base near Tel Aviv) getting processed and receiving my uniform to starting my basic training in Michveh Alon in the North, it’s been interesting, and quite the adventure. I am located near Tzfat, close to Mt. Miron. I have never done so many pushups, or have to calculate the difference in seconds polishing boots or brushing teeth. I have been keeping notes of what I have been doing during the day, more on that when I am not passing out. I have to be on a bus heading back to the base in less than 10 hours, so more updates on my next weekend off.

The trifecta

2006-12-17T12:49:00.000+02:00

After months, weeks and days of waiting it’s finally here. It’s a trifecta event, Chanukah, Shira’s birthday, and my army induction.

To celebrate Shira's birthday we are going to Papagaio tonight to eat several cows’ worth of meat with family. Shira's middle name is literally Chanukah, which makes it all the more special. Chanukah is Israel is amazing, walking down the street last night, you can just smell the latkes and sufganiot smell everywhere. It's going to be great to get out with everyone tonight; I need to limit the amount of meat I eat so I am OK tomorrow in the army.

Tomorrow morning I will be joining the IDF, the first one in my family to do so. I guess by the time I finish my service, my Hebrew should improve to the point that people no longer ask me about my accent. Over the past year quite a number of people have asked me if I am French, perhaps it’s the Canadian Hebrew accent. As far as the army, I should be somewhere in the military for six to eight months. The great thing about having the armed forces all in one branch is that I could end up in the army, navy, air force or any number of other places. Since I am an old out of shape shlav bet (second stage, condensed service for people older than 18) guy, I have a feeling its not going to be glamorous, but that’s all part of the fun. One of the exciting things about Israel is meeting new people from all over the world and experiencing so many cultures. The melting pot in Israel, the commonality everyone has is in the army and I am excited to get the adventure underway.

I don’t know where I’ll be or what I will be doing, but I am sure it’s going to be interesting. I do know that I will be in basic training for a month, probably in Michveh Alon, but I am not yet sure. From what I understand, I report in Jerusalem tomorrow morning, and from there everyone heads to Bakum (the main processing base) near Tel Aviv for in processing. Shots, x-rays, pictures, uniforms, equipment, questionnaires, and much more follow at Bakum before I go on to my basic training base and a tent. That’s about all I know at this point. I will post updates as I get to access to the computer; I hope to keep notes as I go along. From what I understand, I cant post any specifics while I am serving, more on that later.

Thank you so much to everyone for their thoughts, prayers, cookies and candy, keep ‘em coming, I really appreciate all the support.

Trapped!

2006-12-15T14:44:00.001+02:00

I just got into the elevator on the ground floor and pushed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator starting ascending, the numbers on the display started going up. When it got to the fourth floor, the doors stayed shut and the display showed a long line instead of numbers. It then shut down, all the buttons not working and went to floor -1, the parking garage. After a moment, the panel came back on and I hit the forth floor button again. The same thing happened another two times, until on the third attempt, the elevator shut down and nothing worked. I started pressing all the buttons, and eventually the alarm button worked. The lobby man asked if everything was alright, and I explained how I was trapped in the elevator. He came down a few minutes later and used a tool to get the outside doors open, I pushed the inner ones aside with my hands. The elevator had stopped about half a foot lower than floor -1. I went back up in the other elevator, I don’t think being trapped in small spaces for five minutes has turned me off of elevators just yet, I still prefer them to the stairs. Regardless, it was quite the experience.

Personal Translator

2006-12-15T13:09:00.000+02:00

Most of my friends in Israel are English speaking or Anglo-Saxons. Since most everyone in the Anglo community speaks both English and at least some Hebrew, you would think that being an English/Hebrew translator is not very complicated. Everyone is an amateur translator in some way or another, interacting with Israeli society in any capacity requires a degree of Hebrew comprehension.

When I first came to Israel and went to a primarily American, English speak school, I was not exposed much to Hebrew. Even though I was living in Jerusalem, I really didn’t get out much and talk to the people on the street. The first thing I learned in Hebrew shortly after I arrived was all the toppings for a falafel/shwarma and how to order one. This past summer I ran into a couple fellow Ulpan students who were talking about the exact same thing. Since ordering food is one of the more important things to know how to communicate, they learned how to ask for a falafel, but referred to the toppings by color. So they would go to the local store and say “Can I have just a dab of the red, plenty of green, a bit of the orange, and a little more white?” Fortunately, I had the food thing down within moments of arriving. I didn’t know how to say anything else, ask for a cup, or understand anyone, but I did know how to order a mean shwarma. The next thing I learned in Hebrew was how to take the bus. I learned how to buy a bus ticket and how to scream “REGA” in order for the bus driver not to drive off with someone half in, half out of the bus.

When I first met Shira and discovered she was a translator, I was not very impressed. After all, doesn’t everyone speak Hebrew and English? Little did I realize that having a detailed command of English and Hebrew, and how to translate back and forth is more than an amazing skill, it’s a form of black magic. When I realized that in comparison my Hebrew skills were less than primitive, and my English skills could use work, I started appreciating what exactly goes into proper translation. Understanding the cultural differences between the languages, translating jokes to press briefings, I was blown away. It’s a really amazing skill, and something which I think everyone should have. Shira didn’t always plan on becoming a translator; she sort of came across the two year MA program in translation and interpretation in Bar Ilan University by happenstance. I think it’s a natural fit; Shira grew up speaking English at home, and Hebrew in school from a very young age. I don’t think I would ever be on the level required to even get in the program, I see a number of additional Ulpans in my future with slow and steady progress. Understanding both languages fully and being able to effortlessly switch back and forth is impressive, but sight translation, i.e. reading a newspaper in one language and simultaneously speaking in the other is amazing.

I am just happy to have my own personal translator, it makes figuring things out so much easier, and I could never have gotten through Ulpan if it was not for her help.

Waiting in the Misrad HaRishui for a drivers licence

2006-12-14T13:33:00.000+02:00

Yesterday morning I decided to do one of the things olim (new immigrants) and Israeli’s alike abhor, go to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles (Misrad HaRishui) and get my drivers license.

Getting a drivers license is not a simple process and takes many steps, each of which involve arguing and of course, plenty of waiting. According to the AACI’s (The Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel) website, new immigrants, temporary residents and returning residents are permitted to drive in Israel with their foreign or international driver's license for one year following their date of entry into Israel. In addition, tourists who have resided in Israel for more than one year are obliged by law to drive with an Israeli driving license. The Misrad HaRishui allows olim and tourists who are in Israel to transfer their foreign driver's license for an Israeli driver's license within three years of arrival. They are exempt from taking the written exam. However, a driving test is compulsory.

In my particular case, I am heading for the army next week, and decided it was high time to get my Israeli license. The first step is to go to one of several glasses shops and get an eye test taken. It’s a simple computerized test, after about five minutes the woman at the counter handed me the green paper. The paper is green, has my photo on it, several boxes for driving instructor comments, the licensing ministry’s comments and a medical form. I went to take the eye test months ago in Jerusalem. I got my green paper but just swept it under the rug and conveniently forgot about it. After I realized it may be a good idea to get my license and be able to drive in the police and in the army, I decided to finish the process. After getting a physical and all the medical information filled out on the back of the green paper with a signature and a stamp of approval.

Its a little known fact that Israelis are crazy about stamps. Nothing is official unless it has one. Many people carry around little pocket stamps in order to stamp in addition to their signature. There is a whole story about our family car years ago and finding the right stamp, but that’s a whole other story.

Thinking I was now on my way to getting my Canadian drivers license switched to an Israeli one, I called a driving teacher and asked to schedule a test. In Israel tests are taken with a driving instructor’s car, he waits outside, and the official tester administers the road test. The helpful English speaking instructor asked me if I had the stamp from the licensing ministry, and I said no, seeing as I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained I had to go to Misrad HaRishui (the licensing ministry) and talk with them to get approval in order to take the test.

I arrived at their main office in Holon, just south of Tel Aviv, at about 8am. I had no idea how to get there, but a couple lucky bus changes at random stops landed me exactly where I needed to be. The scene inside the office was already chaotic. People were everywhere, running, shouting, waiting in line and talking loudly on their cell phones. The guard told me to go to window 8 and ask for a ticket. It took me a minute to find window 8 under the sign “foreign licenses”. Once I got my number, I settled in to wait for my turn. I found it hilarious when I later realized that the entire room was pasted in no cell phone posters and everyone sitting underneath them shouting at someone on the phone. I wondered what would happen if you had a waiting room full of people and no one was actually allowed to talk on the phone. Here everyone has at least a couple of phones, and since incoming calls are free, everyone is always talking with someone. The waiting room is large, brightly lit and filled with rows of chairs. On one side of the room Israelis were queued up to get and renew their drivers licenses. On the other side of the room were two counters, one for taxi licenses, and the other for foreign license exchange. The taxi drivers’ side of the room was filled with tired looking middle aged men, all looking like they could use an extra cup of coffee. It was hard to tell if their shifts were just beginning or just ending, but everyone sat quietly, reading the paper and waiting their turn. At the foreign license desk, people were conversing in every language known to man, English and French mixing with Arabic and Russian.

I waited and waited, time slipping by. I kept trying to do something like count the ceiling tiles, but my attention kept drifting back to the people and the stories going on all around me. The room seemed to divide evenly, after an hour or two of watching the door and observing new arrivals, I got a sense of where people were going just by the way they looked. The pair of teens wearing Abercrombie and Fitch naturally made their way to the left side of the room to sit and wait for the foreign license clerk to call their number. Their accessories were laptops and ipods, running shoes and baggy jeans. In contrast, when the tall, dark guy with greased back hair and a jean jacket walked in, I had the feeling he was heading to the right, and the Israeli license line. It may have been the greased back hair, or maybe it was the too tight black sweater or jeans. Perhaps it was the hair band, or the leather boots. His accessories were a pack on Nobles (the cheapest cigarettes in Israel) and a sheaf of papers. I love it how there is a look here combining a 50’s era greaser, imagine the Fonz, then add in a splash of tight Euro fashion and an Israeli flair, and you have, well, you have to see it to understand. In any case, you could definitely tell where people were going.

The place was packed and everyone was jostling in line when the loudspeaker blared “the fast line is now open in the lobby”. It was as if they announced they were giving away free cars or ice cream. The entire room emptied out as if hundreds of people had been sucked out by a vacuum. Startled, the girl seated next to me asked what was going on, I can see how easily someone could have misunderstood the announcement. If they had said “clear the building, there is a bomb in the basement and Jack Bauer is on the way” people could not have emptied out quicker. It would follow that the non native Hebrew speakers would be left standing at the counter trying to figure out what has just happened. The olim were left standing at counter 8, watching the big hand of the clock slowly crawl by.

Number after number, hour after hour, it finally came, my turn was next! I was getting ready to dash to the window and make sure no one snuck in front of me, when the loudspeaker came on again with another announcement. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, we would just like to let you know that the clerks will be on break from 10 to 10:30”. Glancing at my watch, it was now 9:59, and of course I was stuck waiting. I just took a deep breath, reassured myself that I was next in line, and went back to playing Monopoly on my cell phone.

When they finally called my number I kind of felt guilty that I was not letting the waiting crowds go on ahead of me. I did wait three hours though, so I guess it was OK to take my turn. The clerk asked to see my green paper, my license and my teudat zahut (identity document). As expected, it was not exactly smooth sailing.

The clerk asked me when I came to Israel, looked over the stamps in my passport, and glanced at my Ontario drivers’ license. She told me she was sorry, but since I didn’t have the document from the Ministry of Absorption stating I was a returning resident, she could not give me permission to take the written and practical tests. I explained how I was in Israel for more than a year now, was no longer a returning resident, and could she please just stamp the paper? She told me that since I now had residency, it would help if I left the country for four months and came back, which would make me a returning resident and allow me to just take the test. Since most everyone getting their license here must take 28 lessons, I really did not want to go that route. I explained that I was going to the army in a week, and it seemed a bit crazy that I would have to go back to Canada, where my drivers license is valid until 2011, in order to get a license in Israel. I think by that point she was bored with the whole affair and just gave me a couple stamps on my green paper. She just said “OK, just take the test and no lessons. Next?”

It was so simple, I wanted to cry. Three and a half hours of waiting, ten minutes of explaining / arguing and I can now study for the written test, but that’s a completely different story.

More socks, more army gear

2006-12-13T11:48:00.000+02:00

I found it a little strange to get my new backpack handed to me by the shop owner in a big plastic bag. It’s sort of like the conundrum with the chicken and the egg. If my bag comes in a bag, and that bag came in a box which came in a box, where does it end?

Walking around Tel Aviv the other day, I stumbled across a knapsack store. After explaining to the owner that I was going in to the army and was looking for a bag to carry all my gear, he showed me all the options. He spent ten minutes reminiscing about his army experience and wishing me a huge Mazel Tov. He said he would love to be starting the army with his future ahead of him. It was nice talking to him about the army, it really is a shared experience everyone has in common. Showing me around the store, I didn’t realize bags came with so many options, and features. He recommended a bag with rails on the top and bottom to attach boots and things to; it’s a mammoth 70L bag, almost big enough for me to fit inside. If you travel around the country, you always see kids backpacking with impossibly huge packs going anywhere and everywhere. It looks a bit better on me because of my size, but that’s the idea. It has a nice padded back, and with all the gear I have purchased so far, it’s only half full.

I bag was marked down from 200, and had a sticker advertising a discount, but when the guy asked me for 195 (in cash), including tax, I was too tired to argue. Normally, tax is included in everything, and I guess he wanted to take advantage of a greener. Its nice to know when you’re getting taken advantage of, because then at least you can make a judgment call that the extra 15 shekels is still worth it.

With my new backpack in tow, I met up with Josh and we got all the little odds and ends on my list. I have a feeling the people in the store thought I was a bit crazy, I don’t think many people come in and get excited about buying electrical tape and ear plugs. I figure that since I am only going to the army once, I should get all the things I may need, or they recommend.

I asked one of the vendors if he sold army socks. He said “well sir, I do have a few pairs, but they are more expensive than normal socks because they are very, very special”. It’s a warning sign when people are two polite to you, it usually means they are really going to jack up the price and bargaining is going to be required. He explained that US Marines use these socks, which came in a package labeled HIKE SOCKS and in small print below US MARINE CORPS. Now, I know Nike, but I have never heard of the internationally acclaimed company Hike. I guess they figure if you print USMC and stick an American flag on the package of Israeli army socks; it makes it a more valuable commodity. He ended up charging a couple shekels more than I paid elsewhere, considering they look like nice padded socks, and they are Hike, it was worth it. I am really going to be making a fashion statement in the army. I am sure my officer is going to come up to me and ask, “Wait, are those Hike?!” Nondescript grey socks go a long way to define your personality, or at least that’s the impression I got from the sock vendor.

While in the shuk buying fruit and veggies for dinner, Josh and I both got an SMS at the same time. Each SMS was personalized with our names. It was something like: “Would you like to come celebrate your enlistment with “Sidney” at a party including unlimited alcohol Thursday night?” I was confused who had both our numbers and knew we were both joining the army, especially considering I was going into shlav bet, and he was going to machal. We called them for more information and they called me back several times. After getting in touch with a number of people going in with us, most seem to have got the message as well. There is a big party this Thursday night in Hertzalya for everyone joining, but I was more concerned how they got our numbers. It seems that my sense of privacy of information is completely wrong; its nothing like it is in Canada. If you want to give enlisting soldiers free booze, the army is happy to give you a list of names and numbers. I found it bizarre, but it’s just another interesting fact to figuring out Israel.

Google, cumin and inducing labor

2006-12-12T14:16:00.000+02:00

People get to my site through Google by searching for all types of strange things. Looking through the site statistics, I found a keyword entry yesterday titled “tea from ground cumin to induce labor”. This is one of the stranger topics people have searched for and ended up at my blog. I have never written about tea, so I assume they found my recipe including cumin or the story about Dougie’s spicy food inducing labor.

I don’t know one way or the other, but I did find a comment on a message board about it. “My midwife said that the reason Mexican food works sometimes is because cumin does something with the blood vessels of the uterus and makes it contract.” I don’t know the answer one way or another, but I think the advice from the Herbalist makes sense: “Why are you trying to induce your labor? Babies come in their own sweet time unfortunately, and though it can be frustrating, they will arrive when it's time. If, however, you are having problems, you should seek professional medical assistance immediately. Inducing labor is very dangerous and could be fatal to you and your child, so please seek medical help.”

So keep on eating tacos and don't forget to invite me over for dinner. Oh, and Mazel Tov on the new addition to the family!

YnetNews

2006-12-11T22:53:00.000+02:00

Exciting news, I just had an article published by Ynet. Check it out http://www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-3338603,00.html

I am not sure people have figured out that humor is different than an attack on how things are done or people here. I don't know anyone who has not had a crazy experience with bureaucracy in Israel, if you haven't, let me know your secret. I am just happy its out there, and I only read constructive criticism, so leave me some, or better yet, a nice comment. Time to get back to the real story.

Plain Toast

2006-12-10T14:36:00.000+02:00

The Hebrew language has a word for toast: tznim. You probably know what I am referring to, taking a piece of bread, sticking it in the toaster, and voila! You now have a nice piece of toast, perfect for spreading shmear on. This understanding does not always follow here in Israel. Toast here usually means what we call grilled cheese. Asking for toast in a restaurant is usually followed by the waiter/waitress asking you what you would like in it. I myself love a nice slice of toast with my breakfast. I would not eat sunny side up eggs or have a spread of jam any other way.

I went to a French style breakfast place recently and requested toast to have with my eggs. The waitress gave me a puzzled look and asked me what I wanted in my toast. Explaining I didn’t really want toast but actually tznim, I though I had averted a cultural crisis. She took my order and went into the kitchen, only to reappear several moments later. She asked me to explain what exactly I would like in terms of my tznim/toast. I explained what exactly I wanted, and detailed how one makes toast. I went through all the stages from slicing the bread to sticking it in the toaster. She looked confused and frustrated; I guess I was the first person to ever order something as exotic as a plain piece of toasted bread.

While she went off to explain the concept of toast to the kitchen staff, I read an interesting story printed in a corner of the menu. It seems that a few years ago, while waiting for a flight to France, the owners of the restaurant had their flight canceled. Undaunted, they decided to open a French breakfast restaurant in Israel instead. It’s a cute story; it’s just a small example of how Israeli cuisine is really global fusion.

After about twenty minutes the waitress came back with something that had gone from being bread to toast and proceeded to a lump of coal. I thanked her for the effort; they really toasted that bread, and got full points for being extremely thorough.

Savlanut

2006-12-09T18:15:00.000+02:00

One of the first things olim (new immigrants) learn upon arriving in Israel is how to cope with Israeli bureaucracy. You would think that having better customer service, longer hours of operation and helpful clerks would actually make the companies/government more money and make life easier for everyone. If that’s what you thought, you would be completely wrong and still living in the “North American head space”. It may seem like a foreign concept to wait in endless lines, initial and sign hundreds of mystery documents, and receive mail with no apparent purpose other than the bank or power company wanting to be in touch. That’s more or less just the way Israel works, fighting the system or trying to change it is usually frustrating and pointless.

Many new immigrants assume these are all just things they don’t understand, and with time they will figure the system out. The only problem is most Israelis have no idea what any of these things mean either, but they do know how to work the system. Dealing with everything from the government to the post office and the banks is like trying to roll a huge boulder uphill while people on the sidelines shout directions at you in a language you can’t understand. Being truly Israeli is a matter of creating balance, a cultural feng shui. There must be a careful balance between two concepts, savlanut and being atzbani.

Savlanut is the concept of patience, taking a deep breath, and not getting frustrated when you realize the bank is only open for three hours on Tuesdays. Savlanut is the reason why we don’t have drive by shootings, people killing each other while waiting in line, and endless public brawling. I guess it also helps you have to check your gun when you visit most government offices and beer is sold in corner stores. I once asked at the Jerusalem DMV why you have to check in your gun before standing in line to wait you turn to argue with the unhelpful clerk. She just stared at me and asked “don’t you think it just makes sense?” It seems that utilizing savlanut is extremely important to get through the day and to deal with the million and one hassles that someone from North America just can’t understand. Why does the tax office think everything you import in your lift contain bottles of single malt scotch and cartons of cigarettes? At the tax rates they inexplicably charge, it would be cheaper to forget the furniture back home and buy a couple cases of alcohol and tobacco here to help you get through the home shopping experience. So take a deep breath and just exhale, reminding yourself its all worth it because you’re now in Israel.

When all else fails, and it quite often does, the real Israeli turns to the second half of the equation. If savlanut is the force side of the Israeli persona, becoming atzbani is nothing less than the dark side. When one finds it’s no longer possible to maintain self control, keep calm and wait patiently, its time to turn atzbani. Like the Hulk getting angry, the screaming, shouting and hysterics come bursting to the surface. The glare, the shouting, the “try me and see what happens” attitude are all parts of getting really, really atzbani. Many Israelis evoke this tactic after waiting in line for a couple minutes, or may even get started while on the drive over. As a North American, you will still have plenty of patience when the entire line has already passed you, gone berserk, and gotten exactly what they wanted by virtue of screaming alone. You may be tempted to copy the Israelis and do some screaming on your own. Just remember, the important thing is not to apologize in between each epithet at the clerk’s mother and his choice of shirt. Apologizing and displaying savlanut in an atzbani situation confuses people. It makes them think you are a fryer (sucker) and are meant to take advantage of, if only to teach you a lesson. Being atzbani is not about creating enemies or making the other person feel bad, it’s just a way of getting what you want. As the maxim goes, he who screams loudest gets exactly what he wants, with a discount to top it off. Just because you went ballistic on someone and got what you wanted, it’s important to remember that in Israel the other person is now your friend, you have been through a cultural exchange, not an exchange of insults or verbal taunting.

The bottom line, try to stay calm, try to figure out how to work the system, wade through endless paper work and keep a smile on your face. When all else fails, blow your top and see if screaming accomplishes anything. Either way, its all part of the experience, welcome to Israel!

Ikea and the army

2006-12-08T08:50:00.000+02:00

It’s time for another army update. I now have a small pillow to rest my head on, another box checked on the two page list I have been carrying around. My friend Moshe recommended bringing a small pillow, as they don’t have pillows in the army. The little time you have to sleep should be on something soft, as opposed to a pile of rocks or in the mud. I still don’t know what my basic training is going to be like, but from what I have heard, it involves mud and tents. I still think going in December has to be better than August. In any case, I am Canadian (as the beer commercial goes) I should be better suited to freezing cold than blazing heat. Getting back on track, I found myself in Ikea yesterday and came across their wonderful mini pillow, which cost 10 shekels and rolls up into a tiny bag. I think its going to be perfect to roll up and tuck away in my backpack. I tested it out last night to ensure it works properly, and I slept great. Now all I have to do is replace the bed for a sleeping bag, and the room for a tent, and I’ll be good to go. I am slowly getting all the things on my list; I hope to get most of my shopping done sometime next week. I think know a few people who are going in with me, so hopefully there will some familiar faces. With exactly ten days (to the minute) left to go, its making me really ponder what army life is going to be like. Hopefully there won’t be any digging, but I am sure it will be like a dig, too little sleep, too much fun with your new friends.

I just read a horror story about Machal, I guess I am lucky to be in Shlav Bet. I think these guys are going to be on the same base as I am. I am not sure if we are going to be doing our tiranut (basic training) together, but we should all be going to the same place, Mikveh Alon.

Moving right along, I had a great time in Ikea yesterday. I think it was the first store that was really American (or Swedish) and was like an exact replica of the one in Toronto. Change the signs from Hebrew/English to English/French and I could have been back in Canada. The best thing about Ikea was the food; we had a wonderful breakfast of salad, coffee and hot pretzels. This then gave us the energy to walk around the enormous store for another hour, returning to the cafeteria for lunch. Even though all the food was kosher, I was afraid to try the Swedish meatballs. I had a salad, vegetable soup in a bread bowl (for the first time ever), huge spaghetti with meat sauce, three rolls, and unlimited soft drink refills. I would say it was the best meal of the day, but our friend took us out for a spectacular dinner, but more about that later. If you order something of Israeli origin, like schnitzel, they stick a little Israeli flag in it. If you order something of Swedish origin, it comes with a little Swedish flag in it, and so on. I really had a great time in the store, and it wasn’t just the shopping, food, or cartoon network playing on a projection TV. I impressed the kids sitting around eating lunch with my Johnny Bravo impersonation, although it may have been the dozen Coke refills doing the talking.

Sufganiot explained

2006-12-07T08:41:00.000+02:00

My friend Sarah recently asked me about when people in Israel start eating sufganiot (jelly doughnuts) to celebrate Chanukah. Here is a slightly more detailed explanation of what we eat, why, and when.

Back in North America, it’s typical to eat latkes, or fried potato pancakes. The miracle of Chanukah was that the oil in the temple burned for eight days, and to commemorate the special oil, we deep fry everything. Latkes are usually eaten with a variety of condiments, each family having their own tradition. It ranges from your basic apple sauce to sour cream or ketchup. I am sure there are die hard Canadians who have their latkes with a liberal drenching of maple syrup.

Here in Israel, the national Chanukah food is sufganiot, or as I call them, sufis. Unlike in North America, we don’t just have Chanukah where one eats greasy fried food, we have Chanukah season. Bakers wanting to try out their machinery and deep fryers start cranking out fresh doughnuts months in advance. I think I had my first sufi of the season about three months ago, and its still two weeks to Chanukah. When you walk into the corned market and get a whiff of the deep fried powered sugar covered goodness, you get the feeling Chanukah is right around the corner.

For many years the only flavors available were raspberry or strawberry jam filling for the more expensive sufis, the cheaper ones had a generic red goop. I am sure the red goop comes from the same factory where they make petel or Israeli bug juice mix, but that’s a whole different story. Not wanting to be behind the times, I am sure some enterprising Israeli baker visited a Krispy Kreme in the States and saw the multitude of jelly stuffings. He then decided to bring some of the shmaltzy goodness back home. You can still get cheap (2 shekel) red goop doughnuts and a number of mid level jams and fillings. However, there days at many bakeries around the country, you can now get crème and caramel, butterscotch and chocolate dipped. They also have whip cream filled and topped and I have even seen a halva sufi, a simply deadly combination (with a calorie count in the low thousands).

So while we now have many choices, we don’t yet have a Chanukah tradition of dressing up like a Macabee while eating our Chanukah sufganiot, or while playing driedel. I think Sarah is on to something; we should have a recreation Chanukah, and give everyone lots of free food. I think it could be the best festival, ever.

Lucky Lottery

2006-12-07T08:08:00.000+02:00

Last night we went to a Chinese restaurant in Tel Aviv. The food was good and the experience was pleasant. The story happened right before we went in. Standing on the street corner near the restaurant waiting for our friends to arrive, I spotted a lottery booth a bit down the street. It was the typical small orange booth, covered with banners and streamers shouting “50 million shekels!” My Mom always said that her father, Zaidy Sidney said “the lottery is a tax on idiots”. With that in mind I read the lower part of the streamer, which said in Hebrew, “it just takes five”. I assumed that meant it takes five shekels to win fifty million, and that seemed like a good deal. I have never bought a lottery ticket in Israel before, and had no idea what to do. I plopped down five one shekel coins on the counter and said “Hello, could I please have a ticket for 50 million shekels?” Having no idea what I was talking about, the vendor just stared at me with a puzzled expression. Undaunted, I continued “you know, the lottery with all the banners all over your booth?” There were so many banners and streamers coming out of the top if the booth it made it look like a giant Hershey’s kiss. Finally understanding what I wanted, the lottery guy explained that the 50 million shekel lottery ticket was a minimum of 11 shekels. Confused and not willing to shell out more than the five shekels lying on the counter, I took one of the scratch tickets he offered. It said I could win 25,000 shekels, and I figured that would be nice too. It turns out that the “it takes just five” refers to picking five numbers for eleven shekels, and not five shekels to win 50 million. Another lesson in Israel learned. I was unsure what to do with the lottery ticket, which was decorated with pictures of fish. I guess fish is a lucky thing; they should come to Northern Canada where we have plenty to spare. I was unsure where to scratch and what the rules were, so I gave it to Shira. She scratched it off and won another ticket. We then scratched off the second ticket and won ten shekels. The guy asked us if we would like a couple more tickets or maybe pay him another shekel and get a ticket for 50 million. Despite the allure of being a thousandaire or a millionaire, we decided to cash out and use the money to tip our waitress. Everything worked out well in the end, I have a feeling I won’t be playing the lottery again anytime soon.

Pita Tacos

2006-12-05T13:37:00.000+02:00

We were in the mood for Mexican food. Its really hard to find chili or taco seasoning in stores here. I have seen it in a few specialty stores around Modiin, but that’s about it. Someone on the internet was kind enough to give me a recipe and I modified it to fit what I had on hand. Here it is:

Sid’s Israeli Taco Spice

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon hot paprika
1 teaspoon sweet coarse Hungarian paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon Charif Adom (red crushed chili mix)
1/2 teaspoon Frank’s Red Hot Sauce
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground oregano
a dash of cinnamon (optional)

I put 1lb of frozen ground beef into a covered pan with 1 cup of water. Once the water was boiling, I slowly flipped and mashed the ground beef until it was broken apart into small pieces. I left it simmering on a low flame until most of the water had evaporated, and added in the above spices with a bit of olive oil and water. I turned the flame back up to high for a moment and browned the meat. I then added just a bit of boiling water to make a bit of sauce.

The meat is served in a pita with chummous, techina and salads. I cut up a whole mess of lettuce, tomatoes, onion and cucumbers to stuff the pitas with, and some new pickle mix.

Bon appetite!

Quick update

2006-12-04T16:03:00.000+02:00

Great news! I just found out I passed the police exam. I am now finally done shlav aleph. Its great knowing that I got through 90% of the test, in Hebrew, on my own. I now can fake my way through the army, no one will ever know I really don’t speak Hebrew half as well as I should. Its one thing to order a shwarma and quite another to write an essay or figure out a complicated exam written in complicated Hebrew. I am excited to get my uniform and get started at the police as a uniformed policeman.

For the moment I have bigger problems, such as getting everything on my list for the army. My enlistment day is two weeks from today, its getting closer all the time. I was in touch with some friends who I may be on the same base with, it seems that the Marvah guys are going in the same day, but I am not sure if we will end up in the same place.

Perl's pepperoni supply is getting low

2006-12-02T18:44:00.000+02:00

So it’s finally happened. I am down to my last package of Perl’s pepperoni. A friend from Toronto was kind enough to send me a dozen packages of pepperoni before my excavation this summer at Tel Zaharah. Since airmail was more expensive than the pepperoni itself, he opted for the slow boat via China method, and it took about four months to get here. I don't know how it was sent, but it sure took a long time. I didn't even get charged by customs, I guess they figured no one would actually send meat in the mail.

It was triple sealed and double packed, everything got here without a dent. Over the past three months or so, I have been carefully rationing my pepperoni sticks. I knew the day I would run out was coming, I tried a number of different Israeli alternatives, but you know what they say, nothing tastes like home.

With Perl’s out of commission for the next while, I can’t really get more; I was hoping to take some with me to the army. I am going to have to be resourceful and have someone bring me some as soon as they are back open. I can’t imagine waiting months longer so another treat. I am actually a much bigger fan of the real Perl’s pepperoni, but it wont stay preserved as well as the pepperoni sticks will. Well, I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Dov Shurin Live

2006-12-02T18:28:00.000+02:00

An interesting video from Dov Shurin. I thought the video was something else, a good illustration of the many types of Israelis who make up the country. Leave comments and let me know what you think.

Four and a Half

2006-12-01T15:19:00.000+02:00

Let me paint you a picture. This very well many be a true story, however no one can verify it with any certainty. I am sure everyone will come to their own conclusions and judge for themselves. Be warned, this could change your life…

The twisted and winding roads in Old Yaffo (Jaffa) hide one of Israel’s most secret facilities. Streets upon streets of squat, grey unremarkable buildings create a neighborhood no one would give a second thought to. Off an unmarked side street where even the locals get lost, a path leads away from the road towards yet another grey building. The path leads toward a seemingly ordinary apartment building known only as building Four and a Half.

Like many buildings in Israel this one has a guard stationed outside. On closer inspection one might notice some interesting differences in this particular building. Unlike most guards at public schools or buildings, the guards at four and a half seem to have just finished their military service, a good generation or two younger than the average guard. The guards at Four and a Half seem to act with a sense of mission, knowing the installation they guard holds the key to Israel’s future. They walk upright and are constantly on alert. The building must be the only one in Jaffa without a rampant cat problem, as they too are scared away by the constant patrolling presence of the guards.

The apartments all have dark windows, as if decades of grime and dirt have built up and no one bothered to wipe the windows clean. Like gargoyles perched on the rooftop, Four and a Half is littered with dozens of security cameras, following, watching. There is no laundry blowing in the wind from the balconies, no one is every seen walking outside or sitting out in the sun. If it was not for the trickle of people coming and going, the building would seem to be just another neglected building, forgotten and abandoned.

To enter Four and a Half, ID must be shown and the current password must be given to the guards. Everyone entering the building must pass through a metal detector, as well as scanned by several humming machines. Upon approval from someone unseen, the guard ushers people into the small lobby. There are video cameras everywhere, tucked away unobtrusively in the corners, silently watching everyone. The interior of the cramped lobby has the ambiance of an era gone by; it was probably furnished in the 60’s and is now frozen in time. Old travel magazines in Hebrew featuring trips to the Orient litter the small corner coffee table. The only other features of the room are a few vinyl chairs draped with cracking plastic covers and a lazy ceiling fan, slowly revolving as if it doesn’t have the energy to spin properly. The air in the lobby smells old and musty, as if it too had not been refreshed in decades. At the opposing end of the small lobby is another door with a panel of buzzers at its side. The door is covered in a faux wood finish, perhaps from the same era as the vinyl chairs. Inserting a key and entering a secret combination on the panel causes the door so slide open silently, the first hint of what lies beyond is much more than just another dull grey building.

The door has the appearance of a simple door panel, but slides away into the wall, as if it were something out of Star Trek. The open doorway reveals the interior of a gleaming elevator, decked out in chrome and mahogany. It’s certain the interior decorator of the elevator was born decades after whoever designed the outside of the building. It’s a huge contrast to the lobby, the air smells fresh and sparkly pushed around by an unseen silent fan. The chrome gleams in the sophisticated halogen recessed lighting, and the wood gives off an aura of prestige. This is a very serious, very powerful elevator, used to transporting people of a similar standing. After several seconds, card verifications, video confirmation and a destination chosen, the elevator door silently slides shut and the decent beings. The speed of the elevator is hard to gauge, but the pressure which builds up, popping ears again and again, may suggest the depth of what lies below.

After several minutes, the elevator arrives at floor one. From an unseen speaker a soothing computerized voice announces “floor one, research, administration and conference rooms”. Whoever designed that voice knew what they were doing, it gave the impression it was thanking you and at the same time complementing you on your excellent taste in elevators. The door slides silently open to reveal a glaring corridor painted in bright white with pastel trim. A light blue sign painted on the wall says “Welcome to Four and a Half”. To the right, another guard checks clearances, and issues a pass. The hallway looks as if it were a sterile environment, not a speck of dust can be seen on the white polished floors. Down the hall are huge plate glass windows, one after another, revealing laboratories with scientists in white lab coats running around and performing experiments, taking notes, and taking naps. Taken out of context the activities and experiments being carried on in the labs might seem strange, but there is an excellent reason for everything. Next to each window in a door with a sign, each labeled with a series of seemingly nonsensical letters and numbers. Directly ahead, at the end of the corridor, are large doors set with a small engraved plaque simply stating “Conference Room”.

Entering the conference room, the true purpose of Four and a Half becomes no less apparent. What seems like a panel of seven delegates sit in the front of the room on an elevated stage, while the rest of the room is ringed with desks arranged in rows. The design is reminiscent of the UN or the Knesset. On each desk is a small card with the name of the occupant. The seated people come from across the spectrum of Israeli society. Every religion, ethnicity, language and culture is represented. The Druze delegate stands and shouts the famous Druze saying “The pen is in thy hands, write and fear not” to the assembly. Heads nod, and the murmuring of the crowd turns to a dull roar. After a moment, the Chassidic Rabbi raises his hand and says , “Does it not say in Perki Avos that Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said, On three things the world stands: on Judgment, on Truth, and on Peace?” More argument, more muttering and all heads turn to the Muslim and Christian delegates to see which would be able to come up with a witty retort.

But before anyone could take the floor and should out in true Israeli fashion, all attention was suddenly diverted to a heated debate between the Israelis of Yemenite and Moroccan decent. “It has to be ground! That’s what my mother said!” one shouted and turned a slight shade of red. The other screamed loud enough for all the assembled dignitaries to hear while turning a slight shade of purple. “It’s roasted and then ground! Everyone knows that”. The crowd screaming, the panel banging for attention and everyone screaming only added to the chaos. More screaming, more cursing, and the delegates took a few minutes break. Everyone has their own recipe for the perfect cup of coffee, how exactly to put in the grounds, how much sugar, how much water, when and for how long. The five minute break turned into an hour long shmooze about coffee and everything else. Slowly, the delegates filed back into the conference room.

I imagine there really is a place like this in real life, there has to be. Go to any supermarket or makolet, you will find dozens of chummous containers of all shapes, sizes, ingredients and types. How do they come up with so many blends of peppers, eggplant, chickpea, technia, charif and a million other additives? How do they make it appeal to everyone while coming up with new variants on a weekly basis? Chunky, creamy, inbetweeny, green, red, orange, pine nuts and walnuts, the variety is endless. American style, Moroccan, Yemenite, Mediterranean, and Greek, picked peppers, chopped up leek.

The only logical explanation I could come up with is a secret national laboratory, where new recipes are not only created, but cultural input from all sectors of Israeli society is taken into consideration. In a small country where a matter of miles is like a continent away, it’s an amazing challenge to take everyone into consideration. How to make someone who hails from Jerusalem find the same chummous flavors interesting and exciting as someone from Cairo, Siberia or Detroit. We all have different backgrounds and inputs into how things are in Israel. Unlike any other country I have been to; we certainly have the most strangely flavored potato chips, but that’s a whole other story.

Happy December

2006-12-01T06:35:00.000+02:00

December is finally here, and it’s going to be a great month. Among the many events happening this month: my army enlistment day, Shira’s birthday, Chanukah and of course, the advent calendar on NeoPets.

I didn’t know what the advent calendar really was until one of my friends from the UK told me that she was excited about the chocolate and gifts one gets in December from the advent calendar. Thinking she was referring to the NeoPets advent calendar which gives free items every day during December, I told her how my NeoPet, HelenDixon, now has over a million neopoints and has been looking forward to December all year long. It was a bit of cultural miscommunication, and after a bunch of emails back and forth, me figured it all out.

If you have no idea what NeoPets is, don’t worry, neither did I. I was introduced to it by my seven year old sister Emunah about a year and a half ago. Since then, I have perfected my neopoints earning strategies and wasted an endless amount of time on the site. The games are addictive, you can collect endless items, and there is a whole community of people out there playing all the time. It’s amazing how a site that appeals to kids holds the same fascination for adults as well. It’s hard to describe the allure and the endless places in Neopia for you to explore. I think the best way to understand it all is to try it out for yourself. You can sign up for an account here.

My Neopet, HelenDixon, is named after my friend Helen Dixon who I met at the Tel Rehov excavation in 2005. She is from Georgia, always has a story, and is a wonderful person to be around. She has long red hair which was the natural inspiration for my red neopet. As Helen puts it, she has the perfect name to run for President because it looks great on a campaign poster. It’s a great looking name because it has five letters and five letters and has a memorable ring. I am sure when she grows up; the world will need a US President fluent in ancient languages.

Back to advent calendars, I did a little research and was told my Mr. Wiki the true meaning on advent calendars here.

In short, the traditional calendar consists of two pieces of cardboard on top of each other. Twenty four doors are cut out in the top layer, with one door being opened every day, from December 1 to December 24. Many calendars have been adapted by merchandisers and manufacturers to include a piece of chocolate or a sweet behind each compartment, aimed at children.

I always thought that while everyone just had the one day of Christmas, we had eight days of Chanukah. Now it seems that some people have a whole month of chocolate and presents. I think we should start a movement to make an entire holiday season, say half a year, with presents, chocolate and school vacation. Although now that I think about it, when I was growing up we had to go to school on Chanukah, and I am sure a candy season would not be that good for anyone’s teeth.

I think Ill stick with the traditional Chanukah, where we take everything and deep fry it.

From buttons to shirts

2006-11-30T08:25:00.000+02:00

I have a shirt which is missing two buttons. You would think it would be a simple matter to find matching buttons, or replacement buttons and move on. After visiting more button stores than I thought possible in Tel Aviv, I have yet to find replacement buttons. I even tried to find buttons that would work and replace them all. It seems that of the millions of buttons available in button stores, they are all either for women’s clothing or for arts and crafts projects. Walking through the shuk HaCarmel, I spotted a number of shirts with the right type of buttons, but it seemed silly to buy a shirt for spare parts. They were extremely cheap, so worst case scenario, when I finally find the right buttons only to discover they cost more than a new shirt, I may trade up.

Which reminds me; I was in shuk Betzalel and noticed a store selling Hawaiian shirts for five shekels (about $1.25). It seemed like a fantastic deal until I got close enough to actually feel the material. Apparently, the factory had a mishap and a batch or drapes got somehow mixed up with dish rags and paper towel, the resulting material was both scratchy and strangely absorbent. I guess in this case value isn’t everything.

Perception versus the Israeli reality

2006-11-29T10:56:00.000+02:00

With less than three weeks left to go, my army service is right around the corner. I have been wondering what its going to be like, and how I will cope.

I was thinking about how before I started the police I really had such a different perception of what it would like; mainly based on things I had seen on TV. In reality, the way the police operate in Israel and the role they play is completely unlike anything in the States or Canada. I didn’t really have a good frame of reference for how things are done here. To highlight just a couple of the major differences: in Israel police officers don’t wear bullet proof vests under normal circumstances, and unlike in the States, police never use their guns to order people around, ever. Even putting handcuffs on someone is considered an arrest with force; the focus is always on maintaining the dignity of the person, and providing excellent, prompt, respectful and proper service. Many of my friends from back home have the idea that being a cop in Israel is like something out of the Wild West. From what I have seen so far, the role of a police officer in a city is much more benign, with a definite emphasis on “customer service”. It’s really different here, I guess when you feel something in common with the average guy on the street and the fact that everyone is Israeli, makes it completely different. Somehow we are all in this together; you can really feel it while interacting with the general public. In Canada, people have much more of an Us versus Them mentality, here when you pull someone over to give them a ticket, they come running out of their car and either start screaming, tell you who they know, or show you how you’re related.

Much like the police experience, I have a feeling basic training in the army is going to be nothing like it is portrayed in the movies. I am certain it’s going to be hard, but it’s a great experience and one of the cultural gateways to really becoming Israeli. I am not that great with sleep deprivation or exercise, but as the past two summers excavations have shown, you can get into it quite quickly and enjoy it. I am looking forward to the experience; I think its going to be a real adventure. The first day of the army is a once in a lifetime event, I am sure I will make a lot of new friends, and along the way have a lot of new stories. I am not crazy about getting shots and blood tests on the first day, but I guess it’s a small price to pay to get a uniform and represent the country.

Forest doodle

2006-11-28T11:59:00.000+02:00

I was doodling a forest...

Yemenite breakfast

2006-11-28T09:31:00.000+02:00

Some days you just wake up and feel like an Israeli, or at least pretend to feel like one. This morning I had two fried melawach smothered in cheeses, hard boiled egg and schug (extremely hot pepper sauce). According to Mr. Wiki, Malawach or malawah is a Yemeni-Jewish bread. Resembling a crepe, malawach is made up of hundreds of thin pancake layers. It is usually fried. It was excellent, definitely a change from cereal and milk, French toast and pancakes. I am usually not much of a breakfast person, but I figured I would give something new a try. Using Scott’s recipe, I covered them in spread-able Bulgarian cheese, Labeneh and Zatar. They also got a liberal spread of red and green schug, I am really feeling Yemenite this morning.

Happy belated Thanksgiving

2006-11-28T03:02:00.000+02:00

I am in the middle of writing a new story titled Four and a Half. It just doesn’t seem to want to get off the ground. After a number of revisions, it’s still at the half way mark, and right now I am not inspired enough to write the rest. I guess as soon as I get around to polishing it off, it will be posted for all to see. Its going to be an interesting story, I just need to ponder it a bit more.

In the meantime, I wanted to pose a question. If you’re like me, you’re not an American but have plenty of friends stateside. So when American holidays come around like Thanksgiving, it’s hard to understand what all the fuss is about. In my personal experience, we don’t give American Thanksgiving much though in either Canada or Israel. In Canada Thanksgiving is celebrated on the second Monday in October. It’s a recent development, on January 31st, 1957, Parliament decided that "A Day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed ... to be observed on the 2nd Monday in October." From then on, Canadians everywhere had a day to eat turkey.

The problem is, here in Israel we don’t have a national turkey day. So I don’t feel left out, one of my friends from the US gave me a fantastic idea. Everyone in Israel should get into the spirit of Thanksgiving by eating a Turkey shwarma on the new National Shwarma Day to Promote Unity and Harmony. Its something new we are trying to start, get everyone to go out and have a shwarma. It’s a great idea because you don’t have to wait hours for it to cook, you don’t have to keep it moist, and its ready to eat as soon as you get it. Also, I don’t know if chummous would go well with a traditional turkey.

Therefore, I don’t think anyone from the Middle East can object to a national shwarma day or NSDPUH. NSDPUH, or as we call it, Nasdupah, will be the best civil holiday of the year, simply because the government will mandate shwarma eating. I don’t see Hamas staying mad much longer after we invite them to a Nasdupah celebration with tons of roasted meat, fresh pitas, and tons of spreads. Nasdupah revelers from all over the Middle East will be flocking to my favorite shwarma joint to have a hot one right off the presses. At the same time, we can warm our relations with the States, and have yet another reason to eat shwarma. I am sure the turkey producers of Israel and the US would love a holiday which promotes their industries, as well as mutual understanding and cultural exchange.

Happy belated American Thanksgiving!

Chanukah Math

2006-11-27T16:49:00.000+02:00

In Israel, we do Chanukah a little differently than everywhere else. Our dreidels have a different letter, and Israeli’s don’t get down with the latkes, rather its sufganiot (jelly doughnuts). While latkes can be eaten with sour cream, apple sauce or ketchup, in Israel sufganiot are stuffed with everything from jam to cream, caramel, and chocolate fudge. For good measure, most sufganiot are covered with a liberal dousing of powered sugar.

My sister told me that since the army gives them to soldiers, and I am enlisting on Chanukah, I should try to make it worth my while. If it wasn’t for me wanting to go to the army for patriotic, Zionistic, or nationalistic reasons, perhaps service for food would be an interesting concept. I signed up looking forward to the real army experience; I think it’s going to make for some great stories. However, say someone did sign up to break even through eating army food.

Here is my calculation. The average plain jelly sufgania sells for about 2-3 shekels (which is about 25-30 cents). Assuming an average monthly salary in Israel of $1462 or 6300 shekels, you would have to eat about three thousand doughnuts. Factor in the salary from the army and multiply by the number of months you have to serve in Shlav Bet (second stage) and account for the other services the army pays for like food, accommodation and transportation. According to my calculations, you would have to eat about 10,800 sufganiot to break even with the army over the course of six months in comparison to the average salary.

In my particular situation however, the only problem is, I am starting my army service on the fourth night of Chanukah, leaving only four days to eat 10,800 jelly doughnuts. Accounting for sleep and bathroom breaks, that totals up to a whopping 175 doughnuts an hour for four straight days!

I guess I will go back to dreaming up loof recipes and take it easy this Chanukah.

Kubah Soup Recipe

2006-11-27T08:50:00.000+02:00

Someone searched Google for “Kubah Soup Recipe” and got my blog. I feel bad that I don’t actually have one posted, so here is my recommendation where to get some. One of the best things at my favorite Yemenite restaurant, Marvad HaKisamim (The Magic Carpet) is the Kubah. There are many other amazing dishes; I would of course recommend the shipudim (chicken/meat on a stick) and the salad platters. Kubah served on a plate as a side dish is normally deep fried, it’s a small pocket (or cone) of fried dough, stuffed with ground beef and pine nuts. The kubah in soup is usually boiled instead of fried, and slightly rounder, resembling a matza ball. In Israel, you can pick up frozen packages of kubah ready to drop into any dish.

My Dad and I used to go to their old Jerusalem location fifteen years ago, since then it has gone from being a well kept secret to a Jerusalem landmark. The food is excellent and they have recently opened several new branches around the city. I have been with a number of visitors as well as friends from Israel, and everyone loves the place. I like the huge amounts of salads, choices and value. It’s really authentic; the bread is baked fresh and melts in your mouth. For a review and a coupon, click here: http://eluna.com/rest/Marvad.asp?mumu=251

I don’t have a recipe for the perfect kubah, but eating it at Marvad is better than making it at home.

Fender's brain is melting away: a song

2006-11-27T07:38:00.000+02:00

Here is a song for Fender, Stinny’s dog.

I took Fender to the park,
I wanted to see him run and bark,
He ran, straight to me,
But instead he plowed right into a tree…

Fender's brain is melting away,
What more can I say?
The damage is severe,
I think he’s drinking beer,
When will he get back here?

He is always there for me,
Even if we have a dented tree,
We go for walks at night,
He walks me and rides his bike…

Fender's brain is melting away,
What more can I say?
The damage is severe,
I think he’s drinking beer,
When will he get back here?

Fenders acting strange,
I don’t want my dog to change,
He’s smoking Cubans,
And eating Rubens,
What happened to Fender, my old dog?

Fender's brain is melting away,
What more can I say?
The damage is severe,
I think he’s drinking beer,
When will he get back here?

This is the first song I ever wrote, hope Fender likes it. The song will be out on iTunes just as soon as Kammy pimps it out on Garage band. Stay tuned for a best selling hit. Up next, the song about how Trevor and Fender take over the world.

Exam over, waiting on results

2006-11-27T07:24:00.000+02:00

Well, it’s finally over. The police exam for shlav aleph (the first stage course) consisted of thirty-four multiple choice questions over eight pages. I understood about 80-90% of the Hebrew, some of the questions and answers were in paragraph form, requiring understanding everything in order to answer correctly. I think (hope) I passed, I will find out in the next couple of days. It took me just over an hour to get through it; I was the first to start and the last to leave. They screamed at us a bit first about being extremely careful in everything we do in a professional capacity. Now that we have uniforms it means there is more risk of being prosecuted for stupid things we do. It was really interesting. Unlike the culture I come from, in Israel people just keep talking throughout the test, with small breaks when the test administrator screams for everyone to shut up, which lasts about five seconds. It was really funny when people walked by and whispered answers to each other. I did everything on my own, and hopefully my grade will reflect that. The exam was extremely varied; there were questions about all aspects of the course. I especially liked the questions about the procedures for opening fire. It was something like this:

Before opening fire you:

Shoot first and ask questions later
Shout a warning, fire in the air, and then fire to injure but not kill
Fire in the air and shoot to kill

Questions like this seemed rather obvious (the second option). Other things about traffic and enforcement were a little more complicated. Over the two months of the course I enjoyed every class; it was always interesting and provides the basics. I think at this stage the biggest help is learning to wade through the endless paperwork and forms. Every class they talk about a different subject, giving the basics of court procedures, traffic, law enforcement, professional ethics, paperwork, first responders, weapons, communications, and a lot more.

The shlav bet (second stage) course is starting in December; I will be in the army, but I hope to take it when I am done. The next course is exclusively about traffic and tickets, it should be interesting, but not what I am looking for right now. After the course I just took, everyone has the option of joining a specialized unit. After considering my options, I asked to join the patrol unit; it’s very general and gets called out to all types of situations. Not that school security, traffic enforcement and the many other options are not interesting, but I like to as Ole says, mix it up and see what happens.

Toasted Parmesan

2006-11-25T23:59:00.000+02:00

Toasting parmesan cheese might sound like a great idea, but as I found out the hard way, it’s not. Think about it, wonderful little crumbs of lightly toasted and slightly crispy cheese, what could be better? After thinking about it and realizing the only thing standing between me and the realization of my dream is action, I got busy. The first stupid thing was using baking paper instead of tinfoil. The second was probably forgetting about it while it was baking. The resulting fire was probably caused by the baking paper igniting, incinerating any traces of parmesan cheese. It was doused with a coffee cup full of water conveniently sitting in the sink, and disaster was averted. The toaster is fine and so are we; the cheese was unfortunately beyond salvage. I guess its back to the gastronomic drawing board.

A story from the Moshav

2006-11-23T05:32:00.000+02:00

Shira's father, R' Dovid Hertzberg z'l wrote the following story in the second chapter of his joke book. The joke book is a collection of jokes, stories, and recollections from R' Shlomo Carlebach, his followers and friends, otherwise known as the chevrah... Sometimes a little disjointed, sometimes nonsensical, they are always wonderful. Reading through the joke book makes you laugh, smile and cry. The stories run the gamut of emotion, you can always find a deeper or hidden meaning in them. Sometimes a simple story or a joke which has a punch line which you had to be there for, brings back something. I picture R' Dovid and R' Shlomo sitting with a group of friends and laughing into the night. I never had the pleasure of meeting Shira's abba, but through his stories, I hope to learn a little about who he was, the importance of being happy, and enjoying a good joke.

From the joke book, chapter 2, Dovidl's Jokes.

It was Friday night at the Moshav, and the Rebbe was going strong. We were all in the synogogue that was exquisitely painted by the famed artist Reb Yitschak ben Yehuda. He and his wife Rivka had been on the Moshav for some twenty years, ever since the school bus they were living in broke down. Sitting in this beautiful Shul (synogogue) with Reb Shlomo was truly a taste of the Garden of Eden. The teaching and the prayers went on for hours, and It was almost midnight by the time we got to 'Shalom Aleichem,' welcoming in the Shabbos angels. It seems the angels had a worthwhile wait as Reb Shlomo sang slowly and melodiously, swaying back and forth with his eyes toward heaven.

The holy Kiddush wine was flowing freely but our Rebbe gently taught us that the whole world drank in order to forget, but we Yidden drink wine to remember. The main thing, he said was that, G-d forbid, a person should never get drunk on Shabbos; but then he reminded us that we have to be drunk from Shabbos. So, too, we drink wine under the wedding canopy to remind ourselves that we should be drunk with love for each other. We ate, drank and sang for hours, and I don't remember anyone getting drunk. But we were certainly flying high that Shabbos. By the time we stood in front of Reb Shlomo's house on the Moshav I couldn't tell anymore what I was drunk from, but it seemed like an appropriate moment to tell one of my favorite jokes. I'd heard it from my good friend Reb. Fred.

Once there was a guy who went into a bar and ordered two scotches on the rocks. The bartender brought him a double scotch on the rocks. The guy started complaining saying, 'I ordered two single shots, not one double shot.' The bartender took back the double scotch, muttered something under his breath and brought back two single shots. They guy drank the first one and then crank the second one, saying 'cheers!' Now this went on for a month, and the bartender finally said to himself, 'I can't take it anymore. I have to ask this guy what's going on.' So the next night he said to the guy, "Hey Buddy, I know it's none of my business but could you tell me why you have to drink two single scotches everyday at the exact same time, five o'clock?" The guy started getting nostalgic. "Well, Joe, I'll tell you the truth. I have a buddy I served with in the army in Vietnam, and when we got out of Nam, he joined the Navy. We swore to each other that every day at five PM, wherever we were, we would both drink two scotches on the rocks and say 'cheers'; I do it twice, once for him and once for me. And he says 'cheers' twice, once for me and once for him. And that's the reason." After the guy left the bar, Joe the bartender turned to his regular customers, and with a tear in his eye he told of this guy's story to everybody. "Can you imagine? His buddy is out in the middle of the sea and he's here and the both of them are always connected, toasting each other and themselves. That's just so touching." By this time just about everyone at the bar was crying. Now this two-drink ritual continued for another six months until one fateful day the guy came into the bar at 5:00 and ordered one single shot of scotch on the rocks. Joe the bartender began trembling and was afraid to ask what happened to his buddy in the Navy. But the regulars kept signalling to Joe to ask him.

Finally, with trepidation, Joe asked: "Hey, listen, I don't mean to be nosy but I noticed you only ordered one drink. Is your buddy OK?" "Oh yeah," the guy answered, "he's as fine as can be." "Well then," Joe continued, "what's going on? How come you only ordered one drink?" "Oh," said the guy, "that's because I stopped drinking!"

Shlomo laughed hysterically and then said, "Dovid'l, that's a great joke. Where did you hear if?" I said, "where else Reb Shlomo? At the bar!"

The video of: I am cow

2006-11-21T13:12:00.000+02:00

Return of the Schwartz and the Dinner at Dougie's

2006-11-21T06:22:00.000+02:00

Here is another ramble about how things were way back when.
Schwartz and I were on many adventures together over the years. Our Dad’s grew up across the street from each other, years later we went to grade school together, made aliyah around the same time, went to yeshiva together, were roommates in Toronto, and so much more. Our stories could fill a book; we both have very different interests, yet were always close friends. I think the common denominator between us is that Schwartz and I always loved the news. To this day I have a fascination with what is going on around the world and read a dozen papers every morning. A typical breakfast was Schwartz frying up a package of Perl’s beef strips (a.k.a. kosher bacon) and me eating a grapefruit and toast, or something left over from the night before like a burger. We would sit at the table and say things like “so, have you heard what’s going on in China?” to which the other would say “yeah, that train derailment in Fujian province…” to which the other would say, “no, the one about the panda biting the guy in the zoo in Beijing”. That’s how good we were, both plugged into the news and deadly at trivial pursuit.

There are so many adventures we had together over the years…There was that time Schwartz almost got arrested by the police in upstate New York while eating a bucket of chicken and speeding. Or perhaps the time when the world went crazy when he couldn’t find his keys and we were stranded at a party. Maybe even the story about being at a friend’s house in the middle of the night and being confronted by her mothers screaming Italian boyfriend. All good stories, but I was thinking of New York a few years ago. These days, even when we end up on opposite sides of the globe, we still try to keep in touch with the occasional email or instant message. I guess that was one reason it was so shocking to meet his daughter, who is now a very mature three. She is a really cute kid, who walks and talks, and of course makes me feel old. We were all together in Flushing, NY the night before she was born, and this is more or less what happened.

I guess I could start by how strange I thought it was to live in a place called Flushing, NY. I quickly got past the toilet jokes when they took me over to the Israeli restaurant literally a couple doors down on the corner and got me some delicious lamb chops. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit, and realized I would easily weigh a few hundred more pounds if I lived around the corner from that restaurant. Living in close proximity to such a delicious eatery really takes some self control. Actually, I think the restaurant was near their second apartment and doesn’t really come into this story, but how could I pass up a mention of lamb chops?

In any case, I was in visiting from Toronto, and we all went out to Dougie’s in Brooklyn. It was a Monday night, and little did I know, there was an all you can eat buffet. Dougie’s is your typical meat burger/steak/chicken kosher restaurant with some interesting flair. The table cloths were made out of paper and you could draw your dinner with the supplied crayons while waiting. They come and give you salsa and nacho chips while you’re waiting, and the service is usually good. They had some interesting items on the menu, spicy chicken poppers, salad with a liberal sprinkling of meat, grilled meats, the works. We grabbed a table, and the gastronomic orgy began. There we all sat, Schwartz, his extremely pregnant wife ML, and I. We sat and stared at the rows of the buffet, chefs whipping and grilling, all for the taking. We ordered some drinks and grabbed our plates and it was off to the races. I have heard eating spicy food helps induce labor, and since ML was just snacking on the spicy chicken poppers all night, I guess it’s true. That’s the great thing about snacking, you can say you’re not really eating, but before you know it, you have nibbled away enough meat to feed a football team. From what I recall, I went up and grabbed about eight to nine plates of food. There was some great grilled meat, meat and chicken in sauces, salads, and not much in the way of “light” food. It was a real mans meal, meat, chicken and potatoes. I think that’s where the problem was. Women might have the common sense to know when to quit or maybe switch those last ten steaks for salad, but what can I say? I was captivated by the abundance of meat for the taking. I was drinking coke like a camel as well; I think I also drank a number of water pitchers. Once it got to the point where I could no longer get up, I sent Schwartz to grab me some more, a huge miscalculation.

At the end of the meal, I had the feeling that someone had rammed a pointy box into my round stomach, and things were poking out, just like when a snake expands and swallows an elephant. I could almost feel those small round chicken poppers poking me and trying to bust out. If you are what you eat, I am scared to think what I was after that meal. When we were finally done, I got up to pay. I stumbled over to the counter and was greeted by the chirpy woman, pretending not to stare at the guy who just ate and drank her out of business. She said “thank you so much for coming to Dougie’s! I hope you enjoyed everything, can we expect to see you back soon?” My brain was a little foggy from the mass quantities of everything I had just ingested and replied “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be back on a Monday night, I have better self control when I have to pay for what I eat.” She thought it was funny, but since then I had not been back to an all you can eat meat place until a couple months ago when we went to Papagio in Tel Aviv. I don’t remember much else of what happened that night, we went back to their apartment and I urinated for about half an hour, and somehow got back to where I was staying and passed out. The next thing I knew, Schwartz was calling to tell me they had a baby girl, Mazel Tov!

I guess its good luck to have the dinner to end all dinners the night before you give birth, or at least watch someone else eat one. The baby lives up to the hype, because while visiting Israel a couple months ago, she sang a song about cows by the Arrogant Worms, lyrics posted below. Anyone who sings songs about cows is a singer after my own heart. Everyone can sing about love, relationships, and being a teenager in angst, you have to be a genius to come up with a good cow song. I am sure one day she will be old enough to understand how she was born with the help of Dougie’s spicy poppers, and I will still be an old guy reminiscing about the good old days.

Arrogant Worms – I am Cow

I am cow, hear me moo
I weigh twice as much as you
And I look good on the barbecue
Yogurt, curd, cream cheese and butters
Made from liquid from my udders
I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo (moo)

I am cow, eating grass
Methane gas comes out my ass
And out my muzzle when I belch
Oh, the ozone layer is thinner
From the outcome of my dinner
I am cow, I am cow, I’ve got gas

I am cow, here I stand
Far and wide upon this land
And I am living everywhere
From B.C. to Newfoundland
You can squeeze my teats by hand
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!

My College Apartment

2006-11-20T16:18:00.000+02:00

My college apartment had a unique feature that separated it from most other bachelor pads. New forms of life were slowly taking over the apartment, but I skipped ahead to the end of the story. To start at the beginning, my roommate Schwartz and I rented an apartment in Toronto almost ten years ago now. We had both decided to come back from Israel and go to college back in the old country, Canada. We had a small three bedroom apartment in the middle of the city, which in most ways was unremarkable. There were the small quirks of living in any building, but generally it was a nice quiet place to live.

The owner of the building, an old woman, also owned the laundry machines. The laundry room was located right across from our front door. We often “forgot” our laundry in the dryer, and the friendly superintendent, with teenagers of her own, folded our laundry with a smile. I tried not to take advantage of her kindness, but she really wanted to help us, and we had no idea how to survive on our own, so we happily accepted. Easy access to laundry facilities is one of the perks living in the half basement, we still had windows, but about half our walls were underground. It actually came in handy on occasion when we forgot our keys and had to break into our own place.

The laundry/owner lady had an obsession with quarters. We had made a sport out of getting our endless rolls of quarters for the laundry. From the bank to the 7/11, they knew us well and usually saw us coming. When you come in every day and buy the cheapest item in the store with a $20 bill and ask for change in quarters, they tend to catch on quick. Back to the owner, I don’t know what she did with all those quarters, or why she refused to sell them back to us, but I am sure there was a good reason. She was always lugging away sacks of our scrounged up quarters. Perhaps like Scrooge McDuck, she enjoyed swimming in pools of coins in her massive vault. It’s a mystery, but I guess we’ll never know. In the apartment, we often had guests over, as I liked to cook, they liked to eat and everyone watched hockey or football, depending on the season. As these types of gatherings call for, someone inevitably brought beer.

Now in those days, we thought being fancy and sophisticated meant putting a slice of lemon or lime in the bottle. I think we used a few groves of lemons in that apartment. Thinking back, I imagine it was because I had a thing for Corona beer early on, probably because it was so expensive in Israel I could never afford it. Once we were in Toronto and I had sampled the multitude of Canadian alcoholic options, we applied the lemon rule to just about anything. Once the drinks were drunk, and so too were our guests, the lemon wedge was dropped in the bottle and set on our massive window ledges arranged all over the apartment. Within a few months, hundreds of bottles were neatly arranged around the windows in rows. Day after day, the sun beat down on those beer soaked lemon wedges, week after week, and month after month. One day, the lemons decided they had enough. It seems that’s it’s a cruel way to end your life, growing up in a sunny grove in Florida, only to be stuck at the bottom of a beer bottle. I guess that’s when they decided to get even and started forming bacteria in the bottles. The apartment smelled horrendous, and slowly but surely new forms of life started slowing making their way out of the bottles. I use the term “new life form” because unlike the regular types of mold and bacteria any university student can easily recognize, these molds were unique. The memory of the smell, colours, texture and shapes still to this day make me want to slap on a pair of rubber gloves, scrub something and jump in the shower.

While the bottle revolution was slowly forming on the window ledges, the battle of the sink was in its early stages of development. It seems that much like lemon wedges, dishes and food dumped in the sink with some water shpritzied on them, don’t stay happy long either. It soon came to pass that both of us would just dart into the kitchen, grab something from the fridge, and try not to look at the sink, gagging all the while. I think we had the policy of not looking at the sink as not to anger it, after a few days it was very, very angry. Tall, strange, foamy bacteria had started forming, and it threatened to take over the kitchen entirely. I don’t know what could have happened if not for the intervention of our friend Itimar. One day he came over to the apartment, put on some gloves, and started spraying soap and water at the sink. I don’t think the sink liked that much and started to fight back. This type of combat is not for the faint of heart or the weak stomached, I went to go lie down on the couch and tried not to gag. I don’t know what happened next, but ten minutes later he emerged from the kitchen and had clearly won the battle. From that day on, we tried to keep the kitchen as clean as possible, I had a feeling that Brutus the Bacteria was lurking, just waiting for him chance to come back and take us out once and for all. Suffice it to say, the bottles were gone the next day, and the only life forms left in the apartment were the two of us.

There are too many stories and adventures I have had with Schwartz to write them all down or ever remember them, this is another one that I won’t forget.

There was that time I put a knife though my hand, in one side and out the other while making hamburgers. The burgers were frozen and slippery and all stuck together. I placed them in the palm of my hand and tried to pry them apart with a serrated steak knife. In retrospect, it may not have been the most brilliant idea, but then again most ideas seem stupid post fact. In any case, I put the knife right through my hand and shpritized blood all over the open freezer, the ceiling, the cupboards, and the floor. I am still to this day appreciative of the guys wiping it all up while I was in the hospital. I know it wasn’t easy for them and had planned on doing it myself when I got back. I really wasn’t thinking when I pulled the knife out, it was an instinctive reaction. I grabbed a couple new dish towels, applied pressure, elevated the hand, and walked into the living room where Schwartz and a couple guests were watching the hockey game. I think it was an important game because they were both glued to the TV. I was completely calm and asked, I think it was Yona, to call an ambulance. Schwartz said, “can’t this wait until after the game?” After the told him it could not wait and it was an emergency, they got up and took a look at the kitchen. I don’t mind the sight of blood, but considering as the kitchen looked like it had been the set for a slasher movie, they were freaked out. There was a huge snow storm outside, and it took the ambulance a while to get to us. In fact, a couple days later, they ended up using ambulance APC’s from the Canadian Army, some areas were so snowed in they were impassable. The next thing I did while waiting was of course to call my Dad in Israel and ask what to do. Since it was 3am and he was sleeping, I apologized for calling so late and asked Doctor Dad what to do. He told me to head straight for the hospital and get sewn up. It was practical advice.

When we had waited for ten minutes and were sure the ambulance was due at any moment, we went out in the snow and waited at the curb. Within minutes a police car drove up, two officers got out and started asking us questions. I think I should have been clearer when I said to the guys they should call 911. Apparently if you call and say “come quick, someone’s been stabbed”, they tend to misinterpret the information. After reassuring them I did it to myself, and yes, I was actually stupid enough to cut frozen hamburgers while holding them in my hand, the ambulance rolled up behind the police car. They told me that they could not take me because of the storm, since my injury was not that critical, but I should get to the emergency room right away because losing lots of blood could be fatal. I love it how everyone gets pleasure out of stating the obvious. Fortunately, Schwartz’s cousin Elana had recently gotten her drivers license, and she rushed me over to the hospital. Everything ended up well, and I have a scar on either side of my hand to remind me to defrost first in the microwave.

Police exam next week

2006-11-20T01:03:00.000+02:00

At long last, it’s finally over. My final police class was tonight, now for a week of reviewing and studying before the exam next Sunday. Assuming I pass, and I sure hope I do, I will get my uniform a week before I go to the army. Even though its switching in one uniform for another, I am looking forward to both. While I am in the army I will still have to put in the minimum number of hours with the police. For regular volunteers in the mishmar ezrachi (civilian guard) its four hours a month, for volunteers who have completed the shlav aleph (first stage) course, it’s now fourteen hours per month. They said it would be OK if I don’t complete my hours while I am in the army and cant get away or spend my leave sleeping, but to make an effort to come. Although it sounds crazy, I am beginning to understand the rationale behind it. Keeping in touch with the police officers in each unit, and keeping in touch with the different officers make it much more enjoyable to come back once you’re free, instead of having to start over again from scratch as the new guy. I should be going for another rifle range practice this Friday to get certified on the micro galil and police handgun, but I think I am going to skip it and do it another time. I am going to be busy this weekend studying; I really want to pass with flying colours. I guess it’s also much more than just the test, it’s critical to know and understand the concepts, and to be ready to put them in practice in the field when the time comes. I learned some crazy laws at tonight’s class, but until I make sure I heard what I thought I heard, I'll keep it out of print. Tonight’s class covered some new topics and reviewed the subjects discussed in course. The courses are generally excellent, the guest speakers are knowledgeable, and have practical experience in their areas. I think the officers of mishmar ezrachi put together an excellent course, and really taught it well.

To be continued…

Two sides of the same coin

2006-11-19T05:33:00.000+02:00

In my world, people are always trying to come up with new ways to contrast and compare everything. Good and bad, black and white, there are so many fault lines and rifts between people, groups, and ideologies. The recent row over the gay pride parade and the rioting in Jerusalem is just one example of the tensions simmering below the surface. If you take a look at the patchwork way in which rifts between groups are mended, it seems as if it’s a temporary band aid on the underlying problems. It is paramount we work together as a society for the common good. We are made up of so many factions, from religious to secular, the privileged to the working poor, Israelis run the full spectrum of human possibilities. As I think the country has shown in the past, when push comes to shove, when the future is at stake, we put aside our differences and pitch in together. I guess it’s when we have nothing better to fight about; we look inwards and get riled up by our fellow citizens who may not be exactly like ourselves. The joke about the Jew on the deserted island goes, after years of being shipwrecked on a deserted island, he was finally found. Before he set off back to civilization, he asked the ships captain to come ashore for a tour of the island. The captain was blown away by the sight before him; the castaway had built an entire city out of wood. Walking through the street, the shipwreck told the captain “this is my synagogue, pointing to a building on the right” he continued “this is the other synagogue, on the left”. The captain asked why one person would need two synagogues; “well” the shipwrecked man answered “that’s the synagogue I don’t go to”. As the expression goes, as two Israelis an opinion and get half a dozen answers. We may not seem eye to eye on everything, or anything, but somehow we still keep the country moving along and trying to find the best compromise for everyone to keep things on track. I think that’s one the best features of the country. Get on a bus, go somewhere, stand in line, order some food, you suddenly have something in common with everyone around you. Shared history, heritage and outlook may be a common bond, but it’s more likely you will find yourself eating jachnun and schug (fried dough and hot pepper spread) with people from four continents. You so often meet people from all walks of life that in any other context would have nothing in common with. Suddenly you find both the ninety year old grandmother from Ukraine and the twenty year old sabra both love soccer, but root for different teams. Israel has a way of bringing people together, and making not just memories, but creating life in a state where things are dynamic, exciting, and alive. I read in a magazine a while back about a survey of chefs in Israel and what they thought Israeli food was. From shwarma to pita, chummous to cous cous, everything we consider Israeli has its origins in other cultures, and other places. Even in antiquity, Israel was the place where there was an exchange of ideas, culture, and goods. Perhaps the recipe for the perfect falafel was passed along by a merchant looking for the perfect recipe for shwarma… It seems that the real answer is that Israeli food, like our culture, is fusion, with bits and pieces taken from all over the world and woven into a tapestry. We have room in our cultural palete for gifelte fish, falafel, jachnun, malbi, and plenty of room left over for the hundreds of cultural delights. I always think of Dr. Seuss and his story about butter side up, or butter side down. As a nation, we each have a unique take on the world and how to go about making it a better place. Ultimately, we hopefully all end up eating our bread and butter whatever side it’s on. Maybe it’s not critical how we get there, but that we work towards a common goal together.

My third Kilo Burger at Norman's in Jerusalem

2006-11-18T20:00:00.000+02:00

Last week we all went out to Norman’s in Jerusalem’s German Colony and had a few kilos of meat. Yes, I said a few kilos, as is twice that many pounds. Scott, Rob, Shira, my Dad and I went out for lunch and ordered just about everything on the menu. I ordered my kilo burger well done. The burger came on two buns of half a kilogram each (the patties) to ensure they were, as I put it, “very, very, very well done”. The burger platter came with a side of fries, pickles, and salad. Scott ordered the huge 700g steak, and we shared both. Shira, Scott and Rob all ordered the pumpkin soup for an early American thanksgiving, my Dad and I ordered the beef stew based on a tomato soup, as Canadian thanksgiving was a while ago. Following the soup, we had a platter of Israeli starters, including kubah, egg rolls, chummous, Moroccan cigars, and chicken wings. The service was fast and excellent. Pitchers of diet and regular coke later, we were in the midst of the main course with a steak sandwich for Rob, a steak for Shira, and a chicken breast lunch special for my Dad. The steak Shira ordered as part of the lunch special looked like the baby sibling of Scott’s steak, which he had grilled to medium-rare. Once we shared our orders, I had to send my steak back and had it re-cooked to extra well done. The steak and burger were excellent. Scott took home the “I ate a Kilo Burger” T-Shirt as I already had two from previous outings. I did get to keep the frequent client card however, you never know when I free burger or steak could come in handy. Checking the Norman’s site the other day (http://www.normans.co.il/) I found my name on the wall of fame. I don’t think it’s something you can do very often and not have dreams of marauding cows. The last time I had the kilo burger, was after Tel Rehov in 2005, I had two in the same week and had nightmares for days. I also didn’t eat for about a week, but that is another story. In contrast, at this past summer’s excavation at Tel Zaharah, much of the time spent digging under the blazing sun and resting under the shade of the olive trees during break was spent discussing Normans, kilo burgers, and steak. I suppose that it’s only natural to fantasize about an American style burger when you suddenly find yourself eating kibbutz schnitzel and hard boiled eggs as your major source of protein. I definitely think Norman’s is part of the Israel experience, and not just because of the massive quantities of beef. Sharing the experience with someone back home, you instantly bond in friendship, a life long connection seared in beef and tasty deserts. It’s hard to relate the Norman’s experience to someone who has never been, the best way to find out what it’s all about is to experience it for yourself. I am friends with one the waitresses there from Ulpan, she told me someone once came in and ate two kilo burgers back to back, it put me to shame. I never thought it would be my goal to eat the weight of an encyclopedia in beef, I guess it’s healthier to focus on other life goals. It would be strange getting the reputation as the guy who ate five back to back, people tend to look at you differently if they think you can eat them in one sitting. I guess it’s not a contest; I am quite content having my clothes too big on me. Dessert and tea was excellent, a huge selection, and the vanilla ice cream, although pareve, still tasted great after a few pounds of meat, bread and salads. My third kilo burger was quite an experience, one I am not sure I will be rushing to repeat. So to everyone from Tel Zaharah who dreamed of eating one, and to everyone who has, I look forward to seeing you soon at Norman’s!

The slideshow from my first kilo burger in 2004: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5465569841486799281

Boring Borat?

2006-11-18T17:16:00.000+02:00

Borat Boring?

Borat, star of recent Hollywood success movie is good, very good. He started off as a bit character in the Ali G show, and had some funny, insightful jokes. While he made people express their prejudices, or agree with his, he was original and interesting. It seems that with the success of the movie, and the work that went into promoting it, he has devolved the humor of the character into nothing more than a long running potty joke. Laughing at and with the bumbling reporter asking a scandalous question was funny without the overt anti Semitism, constant bashing of Kazakhstan and toilet humor. The show could be carried with witty humor that does not have to sink to the level of Boltok the rapist, or how his fictional sister is Kazakhstan’s fourth best prostitute. I found it hilarious that throughout the movie he speaks in Hebrew, constantly screaming things at his producer in thick Russian accented Hebrew. I recently read he bases his “wa wa we wa” phrase on zehu ze, a popular Israeli TV show. I don’t know if that’s accurate, but the Hebrew alone makes the movie worth watching. Regarding the movie, this was the first time I heard the phrase mocumentary used, a mock documentary. I thought about it for a while, and it kind of made me hungry, it reminds me of mock chicken loaf (see my post about Perl’s).

We have recently seen several interviews with Borat on TV from all over the world. In Holland, on David Letterman, and the Howard Stern Show. It was surprising that the jokes were the same, the back story identical. Sacha Baron Cohen went from being funny and unique with Borat to boring and dull with repetitive jokes, and old material. I guess the movie, if taken with a grain of salt, would be funny for a first time viewer, or someone never exposed to Borat. Seeing as the success of the movie relies on people not recognizing him, I don’t think there will a Borat 2 anytime soon, at least not filmed in the States. Currently, the movie has made at least a hundred million dollar profit (boxofficemojo.com) while succeeding in annoying, offending entertaining and amusing millions of people. I would not recommend the movie if you have something better to do, or are familiar with the character, it is good for a mindless laugh at peoples prejudices.

I can understand the appeal of the concept though, I know many people who would not just be out of place in the big city, but seem as if they come from a different planet. One of the interesting aspects of Israeli culture is that we are all a bit like that, trying to figure out how to coexist in a nation of malbi and jachnun along side hamburgers and doughnuts. The fish out of water theme is something we can all relate to, now if only there was a way to turn my cultural confusion into a multimillion dollar movie project…

What exactly is Loof?

2006-11-16T18:58:00.000+02:00

Ever wonder what comes in a can, could be beef or chicken, is kosher, and has a pale pink colour? If you answered yes, you’re not alone. From soldiers with their combat rations (manot krav) to the more adventurous gastronomic explorers, the lore and legend of Loof is well known. I searched for loof on Google and found 964,000 results; someone must be searching the internet for more information. Many try to explain away the inherent complexities of what exactly loof is as the Israeli equivalent of spam. This could not be further from the truth. Loof comes in two varieties commonly found the supermarket, “beef” and “chicken”. It’s interesting that both the “beef” and “chicken” cans have the same picture on the label and more or less the same smell and consistency. Unlike spam, the ingredients are a mystery, and unlike spam, loof is very kosher. I have heard an urban legend of soldiers eating loof in Lebanon recently which was left over from the supplies earmarked for Lebanon twenty years ago. It seems that eating loof practically older than you are doesn’t actually kill you, and as far as the packing, contents and smell, the makers stick to tradition after all these years. It seems to be indestructible; thousands of years from now, archeologists will find cans which are still ready to eat. I wonder what they will think of us, based on those small cans? Loof is a pinkish mass resembling canned pet food, and comes out of the can with a resounding “Shhhllllluuurpppp!” as it slides, wiggling, onto your plate. There are many opinions as to how this delicacy should be eaten, fried, seasoned, roasted, and cold out of the can, the list goes on. It’s a versatile manna, and ready to be molded into the most creative of recipes. By volume and weight, it seems that it is approximately the same price as the leading band of cat food; I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, perhaps they get their “beef” from the same “farm”. Since loof is kosher, and has ingredients listed on the side of the can, I can’t imagine they put anything too terrible in there. They list the ingredients in the typical Israeli mystical fashion common to all cans: Beef, Preservatives. They don’t really explain what beef means, or what really is in there, its one of life’s big mysteries. I myself like picking out the small bits of identifiable “meat” and feeding the rest to the accumulated cats, who take one whiff of the potent smell and come running. I have noticed several times how the allure of the loof scent, which is ordinarily repugnant to humans, is like sniffing crack cocaine for cats. They are enthralled by the scent, fighting just to approach. The people in the vicinity however, are running while holding their noses and shielding their eyes. Loof isn’t for everyone, but everyone should try it at least once. Perhaps it’s like a rite of passage, live to tell about it, and have a long life.

Exploding Mazola

2006-11-16T17:18:00.000+02:00

We discovered something interesting this morning while making French toast for breakfast. Mazola margarine with olive oil in it can and will spontaneously combust into a huge fireball when coming in close proximity of the stovetop. It seems that even a small amount, when exposed to an open flame, turns into a conflagration in the pan. In the end, nothing happened, and neither of us lost any hair. I think it was reminiscent of a Chinese restaurant, huge fireballs accompany the meal. I think properly branded; Mazola with olive oil could include a slogan like: “Now with fireballs ten times bigger than the leading brand of margarine” or “Explodes faster than your waistline!” Maybe next time we will stick with the canned tuna, it’s safer.

Yourself Fitness

2006-11-16T17:12:00.000+02:00

We just tried the Yourself!Fitness program (http://www.yourselffitness.com/) and after the initial evaluation, we both set up profiles and did a work out. Some of the moves were hard to keep up with, but the program asks you how it was and adjusts the workout to suit. Everything is burning now, and I think I feel pain in places I didn’t know I had muscles, but its all good practice. As the evaluation let me know “it may be a good idea to lose some weight”. I found it interesting that the bar on the bottom shows you how much time you have left for each exercise, how much time is left to the workout, and what’s coming next. I also like that you can pick diffrent locations, its nice to choose what kind of mood youre in. You can also customize the music, workout plan and tons of other things making it much more "real". Overall, we both enjoyed it and if we stick to it, I am sure its going to be useful. Since I go to the army in five weeks from today, and as I have now found out, am totally out of shape, Mya (the virtual trainer) is going to be my new best friend. There are also recipes and progress tracking, but I prefer pizza to Chilean sea bass.

A fire in Perls!

2006-11-12T02:01:00.002+02:00

The bad news is farther down, but till we get there, I had to ask: “Where will I get my pepperoni from now?” From the deep fried greeben, to the pepperoni and pickles, Perl’s is always home. The women behind the counter never age; they seem as old now as they did a decade ago. The food is always consistent, and no matter what, they will be completely sold out of everything except for packages of lungs and liver on a Friday. The smell of the store makes me hungry, as my friend George put it “it smells like a morgue” but I knew its potential. From the back room always emerges trays of meat, deli and prepared foods. It was sometimes strange or spicy, I remember the time I picked up the wrong container of hummus and mustard and both were searingly spicy. Pepper steaks, breaded chicken, pickles and pepperoni were only a few of the reasons we kept coming back for years and years. Even after we had moved cities, and then continents, Perl’s was always a place to come back to and relive the childhood experience of peering into the glass display case hoping the woman behind the counter would offer a taste. Steaks on the grill, teriyaki lamb, hot dogs, hamburgers, and meat filled buns are all happy memories. The rice with chicken, chicken stuffed rice and a dozen types of mystery meat salami are all part of the meat mosaic. Smoked, sauced, and sautéed, the variety was immense and the new creations always interesting. When did we ever have a function, from back yard BBQ to a fancy dinner that Perl’s didn’t attend? From chulent to soup, their food was everywhere. Coming in to Perl’s, everyone knew your name (which may have meant I went there just a tad too often), and someone always asked “so young man, what can I get you? A pound of salami? Some pepperoni? Try something new?”. Perl’s didn’t wait for Chanukah to deep fry latkes and liver knishes; you could enjoy a hot one or pop it into the microwave all year round. No matter where I went and the places I have been, Perl’s is the best meat store the world over in my experience. I remember going to get that baseball cap at Bais Burger. It was always a problem seeing as you got it free with a minimum order of $100, and everything on the menu was so cheap. I think we only hit the jackpot once, before we went on a long drive up north and needed chicken nourishment for the road. A dozen burgers, fries, sandwiches, hot dogs and jumbos later, we had one Bais Burger hat, which I am sure belongs on the same wall as the “I ate a Kilo Burger” T shirt from Normans. The famous heart attach on a bun was always good, two burger patties, roasted pastrami and toppings. I think the first time I saw shmaltz in a jar was in Perl’s, as was the first time I found out you can eat chicken skin and lungs as a snack. Sometimes the food seemed to transcend cultural boundaries, food from the old country, food from today, and guessing at what type of meat nosh we will be eating tomorrow. I don’t think it’s a great experience for the heart, and undoubtedly not great for the waistline, but an occasional indulgence for the palate is understandable, its Perl’s after all. Its hard to sum up the allure of a store which seems like just another butcher shop, in reality its so much more. Maybe like all things, this too has to eventually fade away into the realm of imagination. I was hoping this memory of my childhood would be around a lot longer, so one day I could buy my kid his first latke in July as I remember my parents doing for me so long ago.

From the Globe and Mail:

North York butcher shop burned in four-alarm fire: A major fire burned for hours last evening at a butcher shop in the former North York. Fire broke out shortly before dark at a building near Lawrence Avenue and Bathurst Street. A total of 38 units were dispatched and the blaze grew into a four-alarm fire before it was brought under control. The business, Perl's Meat & Delicatessen Products, was not open and no one was injured.

Grey Socks: My Army Adventure Begins

2006-11-11T19:40:00.000+02:00

The adventure all began with a pair of thick woolen socks. While shopping in Shuk HaCarmel in Tel Aviv Friday, I spied them scrunched up in a corner, lying on a small shelf in the sock shop. Socks are the first item on my list of things to buy for the army, warm, thick, grey wool socks. I bought a couple pairs, and got a fifty percent discount from the sticker price. I think twenty shekels for two pairs is reasonable, but I have a feeling I could have negotiated for a better price. Of all the things I need to get before the army, socks seem like the most straightforward item on the list. I understand what I need to do with the socks, where they go and why. Other things on the list are a little more puzzling. Items on the list are varied, small items (matches), large (knapsack) and even esoteric (razor blades, even if you have a beard, shower sandals, and a watch strap). I have been asking friends how the two foot elastics to hold up pants’ cuffs and what they call a long shackle lock are used; I guess I will find out in the army. Most of the list seems fairly straightforward, featuring such items as a spare toothbrush for gun cleaning, shoelaces, duct tape, safety pins, a flash light and lots of cord for tying things. I found the most interesting item on the list “Toilet paper (absolutely essential)”. It seems that with key items like toilet paper, bringing your own is the best policy, and it’s probably better to be prepared and have some on hand. Another bonus listed in the chart was information about mailing letters; it seems that within Israel post is free. I don’t know how much time I will have for letter writing, and since it’s a small country I imagine I will be making it home every so often, but it’s still nice to know I can mail home a letter now and again. Within in the next six weeks or so I am going to be picking up everything else I need for the army. I feel that getting socks is the first step, now that they are sitting in my bag, going to the army seems all real.

The list they gave me is as follows below. I have another list of other items from the Mitgayasim book, which lists some additional items, but this seems to cover the basics.

Although the army takes care of all your basic physical needs, you will need to bring some personal equipment from home. The items recommended in the following list will go a long way toward facilitating your basic training and service.

• Personal first aid kit with bandaids (plasters,) mosquito repellent, aspirin and personal medications.
• Plastic bags to organize and separate your clothes and equipment as well as to keep everything dry and dust-free.
• Elastic (about 2 feet in length) for garters (gumiot) to hold up your pants' cuffs and also for eyeglasses.
• Pocket or draftsman's knife (olar) used for everything from opening packages to cutting materials.
• Razor blades (even if you have a beard,) matches and candles are required for basic training.
• Siddur, Talit, and Tefillin for observant soldiers; the army also supplies these upon request.
• Waterproof felt tip pen for marking all your army equipment with your name and serial number.
• Pen, paper, envelopes, and air letters (stamps are not necessary for domestic mail).
• Telephone telecards.
• Length of stout cord for a clothes line, holding up your pup tent, tying together blankets with loose equipment and a hundred other uses.
• Small flashlight.
• Toilet paper (absolutely essential).
• Small screwdriver for cleaning your weapon.
• Long shackle lock to lock your kit bag.
• Laundry soap for washing out socks and underwear when you can't go home on leave.
• Shoe polish, black or brown, depending on what branch you serve in.
• Safety pins for pinning tags on your uniform.
• Shower sandals (kafkafim).
• Extra gray socks, shoelaces and underwear.
• Toiletries and hand soap.
• A covered watch strap.
• An old toothbrush for cleaning your weapon.
• Electrical tape.
• Sheet (optional).
• Towel.

It is usually not necessary to have more than one set of civilian clothes with you.

In search of a bagel

2006-11-11T19:37:00.000+02:00

The first call went something like this: “Good Morning, we would like to order bagels, lox and spreads for a dozen people, two dozen bagels, a salad platter, etc”. The order confirmed, we sat easy waiting for the time to pick it up. A couple hours later, we wanted to check on a detail of the veggie platter, wouldn’t it be a good idea to get some salad dips and maybe some chopped egg? Our second call resulted in another “sure, no problem” and everything was right as rain. On the way to the Moshav, we called a third time to make sure the store was kosher, something it may have been smart to check the first time, but in Israel its easy to assume based on the location it probably is. Assured everything was kosher, we hung up feeling satisfied (and hungry); our bagel plans were on track. Sitting in traffic for an hour from Tel Aviv, we began to worry the store might be closed by the time we got there, our fourth call confirmed our order, established the bagel place was open 24 hours a day, and we had nothing to worry about. After a quick stop on the Moshav to pick up my Dad, we headed to Modi’in and the bagel place.

I had a bad feeling when the bagel place (which is what it said on the sign) didn’t have a single bagel on display. Additionally, all the salads seemed to have been the type which come straight from a can and are used in “toast” or grilled cheese. Not deterred, we waltzed up to the counter and asked for our order. The girl behind the counter seemed puzzled and put us on the phone with the owner. “So” he asked, “when would like your order for? Bagels? We don’t really have them, but we can order then from Jerusalem for you.” The girl who took the order seemed in shock. Everything worked out in the end, we went to the supermarket and bought packages of lox, different cheeses and salad and together with the baked ziti Shira had made, it all came together. I guess four phone calls, orders and confirmations are not enough to establish the bagel place is actually a grilled cheese on bread place, and does not really deal in bagels. Oh well, we know for next time.

Perspectives on Winter

2006-11-11T19:35:00.000+02:00

I think I know the exact moment winter started this year. I think it was Sunday, around 5am. I was standing at the bus stop in the pouring rain with my police jacket on checking busses for illegal workers coming into Israel from the territories. The policeman with me was soaking as well in the freezing rain. He turned to me and said: “Isn’t it such a bracha (blessing)?” He continued: “It’s so wonderful to work in the rain.” I guess in a place where even in the rainy season it doesn’t rain much, it’s refreshing to see someone feeling refreshed in a shower of blessings, rather than being in a dark, cold, downpour. We were in that bus stop for a few hours, coming out to check busses every ten minutes or so, it was quite an interesting morning. We did find a couple workers without permits and took them back to the checkpoint, as they put it at the station “It’s too rainy and cold to hold anyone today.” Maybe that will change one day when Modiin builds a proper lockup, but for now, the rain washes everything away.

Down at the checkpoint, there was a Yemenite guy who looked like he was ready to hit the beach. The soldiers were huddled up in their winter gear and looked freezing cold, this guy was walking through the checkpoint wearing flip flops, a tank top and shorts. It takes all kinds to figure out what winter really is here.

The Israeli Concept of Time

2006-11-11T19:33:00.000+02:00

A couple weeks ago, when setting the date for the rifle range, the officer in charge of my course kept repeating, make sure you’re early for the shooting range, make sure you’re early. Five minutes early is better than a minute late. So on and so forth. I got the idea that it was extremely important to arrive on time. I woke up that morning at 5am and played a bit on the computer; I made breakfast with Moo, and got to the station a few minutes early, promptly at 8am. I signed in and asked the desk officer who I am going with. He said to wait a bit; the instructors were not even there yet. I went to go sit outside and enjoy the sunshine. There were half a dozen people waiting as well, most seemed closer to grade school than high school or army age. It seemed this was just another example of the “hurry up and wait” school of thought. We ended leaving the police station for the range at 9:30, after loading the police vans, finding ice for the drinks, picking up all the paperwork, etc. At the range, the same thing happened, apparently the signup list is not for who arrived on time, it’s for pushing to the front of the line. Even though I was not in a supermarket, it made it feel like Friday. Eventually, the instructors did their speeches to my group, and since by that time most everyone had cleared out, we had the place to ourselves and took our time. They let us practice with one clip first at 30 meters, and because I was confused with all the new Hebrew terminology and had the instructor screaming in my ear (to simulate a pressure filled situation), half my practice shots found other targets, the ones which did find the mark were all too high. Exasperated, the instructors took our small group of five and explained everything all over again, imbuing us with wisdom such as “if your nose isn’t smashed against the stock and pressing into your hand, you’re going to miss” and “don’t think, just shoot”. I also found “don’t spend too much time aiming, just find the target and shoot” interesting. The final round was half standing and half crouching, they dry drilled us a bunch of times to ensure we understood all the commands, and it went really great. I got 15/15 in the target at 30m, and got my license card. I got back to the station around 2pm with a newfound appreciation of “Israeli time”.

Luciano’s Restaurant in Mevo Modiim

2006-11-11T19:23:00.000+02:00

I have had the pleasure of working and eating many times at Luciano’s Restaurant these past few months. There is always something interesting happening at the restaurant; I have hundreds of funny stories, there is never a dull moment. People come for the atmosphere, the food, and to feel a connection with R’ Shlomo. For many people the restaurant is the epitome of the Moshav.

During the recent festival, I was working in the restaurant for over a dozen hours. The pizzas were a blur, food going out as fast as we could put it into the oven. People were lined up to get a slice, and everyone really enjoyed themselves. Despite the craziness of the crowds, everyone commented how nice it was to be there. It’s just one of those places that feels like coming home, no matter how many guests you have over. One customer walked in and asked me for a Carlebach and a slice. I stopped what I was doing and laughed.

Personally, I have been eating at the restaurant for over a decade. While I was living in Canada, it was often my first and last stop to and from the airport whenever I came to Israel for a visit. Shoshana is always there with a joke and a smile, and of course, excellent food. Shoshana is one of those people who is always b’simcha, always looking on the bright side of things. Things have stayed the same over the years, and the pizza is still great, defiantly worth coming back for again and again.

The food is one of the best aspects of the restaurant. Everything is made from scratch using only olive oil and fresh ingredients. You can really taste the difference in the pizza, pasta and salads.

On those long Summer nights, there is nothing like sitting in the garden outside the restaurant in the glow of the candle light, spending time with friends. The restaurant has been the setting for many a first date; it’s a great place to meet your soul mate. Just like Cheers, it’s nice to go somewhere where everyone knows your name.

Tel Zaharah

2006-11-11T19:17:00.000+02:00

This is another article for the good news, Its all copyright, please ask permission before quoting. Thanks.

I took part in an archeological excavation for a month last summer. I was located in the beautiful north east (the Jezreal Valley) just south of Bet Shean at Tel Zaharah. This past summers dig was the first excavation of Tel Zahara. Because it was the first season, it was an exciting with unlimited possibility. While we didn’t exactly find what we were looking for, we did make a few discoveries, and while it was nothing on an Indiana Jones scale, it was great a great experience and I am happy I had the chance to participate.
During the excavation, we were housed nearby at the guesthouses located at Kibbutz Nir David which is across the road from the site. It’s a wonderful place to unwind after a day of digging, with unparalleled facilities. In and around the Kibbutz, there is a horse ranch, an Australian wildlife and Kangaroo Park, sports complex, and a river perfect for fishing and swimming. Life on an excavation is a combination of hours of stress and hard work outdoors, meeting new friends, relaxing, and of course, washing pottery. People come to excavations in Israel from all corners of the world, of all ages, and all backgrounds. I was surprised to find at my first excavation a couple years ago, that many of the volunteers and students were not even archeology majors. People come to excavations because of many varied interests, whether it is the history, religion, digging, vacation, etc. Not everyone realizes what they are getting into on a dig, its much more than a vacation, its actual physical labor, which can be extremely hard in the blazing heat, but I guess that just makes it all the more fun. In addition to digging, many excavations also run a field school which teaches the basics of excavation techniques, technical skills, paperwork, pottery, archeology, a bit of history and many other things. Every day is a great hands-on learning experience; often you are the first person to unearth artifacts which have been buried for literally thousands of years. Excavations can be a lot like summer camp with digging, there is a real sense of camaraderie which develops when everyone is digging for eight hours a day together and living the same experience. While each excavation’s schedule varies, most follow the general idea of the excavation I was on last summer. Wake up is 4-4:30am, crawling out of bed, getting dressed, eating a slice of bread and making it to the bus is usually the major challenge of the day. We usually dig till noon with half an hour off for breakfast and a break at 11am. While working in the sun without a shade can be hard, wearing the right hat, sunscreen and plenty of water make is much easier to dig without getting overheated. I was recently told that while in Saudi Arabia you can stick a shovel in the sand and hit oil, we stick a shovel in the ground and pull out antiquities. Its amazing what people find and what pottery shards (or even intact vessels) can tell us thousands of year’s later about things like trade, population, area politics, etc. This past season at Tel Zaharah, we had a team from Poland, volunteers from all over the US, and supervisors from Denmark, Jordan, and Kentucky. The majority of volunteers were from Montana. A dig is a fantastic place to meet new people and make new friends, and a great way to really experience Israel, the land and the history.

First Rain in Tel Aviv

2006-11-11T19:12:00.001+02:00

Walking with a small group to a friend’s house following a Moshav Band concert in Tel Aviv a couple nights ago, the unbelievable happened. At first it was only a few drops, making me wonder if someone had thrown a cup of water off their balcony. Within moments, the sidewalks were covered in a polka dot pattern of rain drops, and then it started what in any other situation would be called a drizzle. The first rain was warm, surprising and wonderful. Water is so important here, it’s really a blessing to get wet. I would normally react with annoyance at getting caught in the wet, but the first time it rained this year in Tel Aviv, I was not quite dancing in the rain, but it felt great.

Scuba Diving in the Red Sea

2006-11-11T19:11:00.001+02:00

This is an article I wrote for the Good News newsletter in Mevo Modiim, its all copyright, please contact me if you want to quote, or rip me off.

Scuba diving, like everything else in life, can be exhilarating, challenging, exciting, and tons of fun. Diving is a unique learning experience, with many things to see and do in the vast unexplored depths of the oceans.

I first thought about learning to scuba dive a few years ago. At the time, I was debating taking flying lessons or learning to dive. Scuba diving won out in the end as it was cheaper, seemed more fun, and you got to stay on, or below the ground. You meet all sorts of interesting people from all over the world who are diving enthusiasts, with all different interests and backgrounds. I have met people who dive for golf balls, dive to see sharks, dive under ice, dive to explore, dive for work, and of course, people who dive for fun. The cool thing about diving is that since the world is mostly water, you can pretty much find some type of diving that interests you.

Learning to dive was very fun and challenging. Instructors are with you each step of the way, and work at your pace to ensure you learn and memorize all the required procedures. Learning to dive is not really about actually learning how to dive; rather it’s all about what to do if something goes wrong. I felt confidant knowing that in case of an emergency, I knew what to do and could do it in my sleep. You drill over and over and work with your equipment, eventually you can do most things without even thinking about it. I took my confined water dives in a swimming pool near my house, and often went back to the pool just to play. There is nothing like riding a bike underwater, or playing underwater Frisbee. I found I could suddenly do back flips and had total freedom of motion. There is really nothing like it without going into space.

All the preparation, classes, and practice don’t prepare you for the first time you go diving in open water. I always thought diving in the practice pool was amazing, but nothing compares to seeing an entire new and exciting underwater world. I found that once I got used to the idea of breathing underwater and became calm enough to have fun, I had an amazing time. Weightless, you soar over beautiful coral formations, schools of fish, and gain an entirely new perspective. It feels like flying, except you have a scuba tank strapped to your back instead of a tiny Cessna.

As you start to descend, you realize that what appeared to be an empty, vast body of water is actually teaming with plant and animal life. In every direction, there is something colorful and to look at, it’s like walking through Times Square, there is always something to look at. As you get deeper, the light begins to dim slightly, and you begin to feel the temporary panic of being too far under to just swim back up, and too close to the surface to give up. I usually take a moment to adjust and relax, and keep on descending. Its at this point you work out overcoming your fears, and rely on your training to keep you safe, and get to the business of having fun.

Being safe and cautious is the most important trait of a good diver, knowing that you are within your limits lets you get out and have a great dive. Diving is like driving, if you stay on the right side of the road, you’re usually OK.

Israel has some particularly good diving spots. Many marine life enthusiasts dive in both the north and south of the country. I have several friends who do an annual dive in Yehudia national park in the north, while you don’t see any fish; you sure find a lot of interesting things people dropped into the pools. It’s important to remember we are responsible for our fragile ecology, and try not to hard plant or animal life while in the water. My diving instructor’s motto is, take pictures and leave only bubbles so someone else can enjoy. I hope you give diving a try, it’s really the thrill of a life time.

Another Ulpan Is...

2006-11-11T19:09:00.000+02:00

Ulpan is...

Sitting next to someone who busses for two hours and arrives on time

Listening to Carmen on the violin playing outside of your window

Meeting people from all over the world, and having to communicate with them in Hebrew

Making new friends

Trying to figure out Israeli culture while learning the language, why are the teachers crying when it doesn’t really seem that sad of a movie?

Finding your food options limited to Aroma or Frank Sinatra

Finding yourself totally in over your head, not understanding anything that is going on, and having a fantastic day where you shine

An ovation for a great news imitation

Pitching in for the teachers presents

Carrying home drunk yeshiva kids from town

Pretending to sing while secretly doing homework during singing classes

Pizza as a lubricant in spiritual enlightenment

Considering your future in Israel, and much more Ulpan

Talking during class, but only in Hebrew

Forgetting how to say driver’s license and looking like an idiot

Almost coming to blows while critiquing the program

Evaluating everyone you meet by their level

Learning everyone’s name, story, and all the wackiness that comes with it

Doing laundry in the hill while singing show tunes

Checking your gun at the security office, but carrying around the bullets

Thursday to Thursday, working towards the weekend breaks

Writing essays in Hebrew and hoping to spell anything correctly

Giving an interview in Hebrew as an example of an Israeli

Meeting interesting and pseudo famous people, OK?

Absorbing culture through little chocolate bars

Trying to figure out what a gerund is

The mystery of the teacher’s British accent

Pizza study party for finals

Meeting a doctor, an artist, and a future commando who all think Hebrew is important

Learning the coulors of toppings instead of the names

Begging for change for the dryer

If a had a zillion dollars

2006-11-10T10:13:00.000+02:00

If I had a zillion dollars, I could afford to spell my name out in buildings. That way, when I fly by in my jet, I could see my name written out way below. I could also spell out funny messages or enlarge my ego with blocks of buildings which say things like "Sid, you're the greatest!". Until I do have a zillion dollars, I can plan and scheme using geoGreeting! a nifty website which spells out your name, or whatever you type in, in buildings. Its a total power trip, and there is even an option to send it to your friends and let them know how things are going to look like once you take over.

9mm Mossad Fratelli breakdown

2006-08-19T13:58:00.000+03:00

A great video by YB of my new handgun, with a step-by-step breakdown of the 'Mossad' 9mm handgun by Fratelli. I purchased the gun from an army officer, it was in great shape and I have been shooting with it a number of times. Its a great concealed carry weapon because it is so compact and light, and doesn't really pull the pants down much. When I am at the police, I usually use an external holster made of moulded plastic. Its interesting that in Israel, a country perceived to be more dangerous than the US, the role of firearms in policing is completely different, you never draw your weapon here unless you or a citizen is in mortal danger.

I was quoted in an article about my Mentos and Coke video

2006-06-12T19:15:00.000+03:00

Diet Coke ‘experiment’ gives Mentos a surge in publicity

Suzanne Vranica and Chad Terhune
Wall Street Journal
Jun. 12, 2006 10:47 AM

Hundreds of amateur videos have flooded the Internet in recent months showing an oddball experiment: people dropping the quarter-size Mentos candies into bottles of Diet Coke. The combination results in a geyser of soda that shoots as high as 20 feet into the air.

“It’s a funny thing to do,” says Sidney Shapiro, a 26-year-old student in Israel, who posted his film on Google Video last month.

The popularity of the videos - Mentos says it has found some 800 online - is producing a gusher of free publicity for the candy maker, a unit of Italian confectioner Perfetti Van Melle. “We are tickled pink by it,” says Pete Healy, vice president of marketing for the company’s U.S. division. The company spends less than $20 million on U.S. advertising annually. He estimates the value of online buzz to be “over $10 million.” The company is considering striking a marketing deal with the two men responsible for one of the more elaborate videos - using 101 two-liter bottles of Diet Coke and 523 Mentos to create a dancing fountain like the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas - posted on EepyBird.com, Mr. Healy says.

Coca-Cola Co. is much more blase. “It’s an entertaining phenomenon,” said Coke spokeswoman Susan McDermott. “We would hope people want to drink (Diet Coke) more than try experiments with it.” Coke could use some extra buzz right now. Sales volume of Diet Coke in the U.S. was essentially flat last year, as consumers switch from diet sodas to bottled water and other noncarbonated drinks. But McDermott says that the “craziness with Mentos … doesn’t fit with the brand personality” of Diet Coke.

Despite Coke’s “Who needs it?” attitude, the phenomenon shows how brands can take on a life of their own, particularly on the Internet. Mentos’ Healy points out that Coke-Mentos experiments have been around for years, but they have been given a new jolt by the newfound fascination among young people to create video content and share it online.

Many companies that have spent years and millions of dollars nurturing a brand aggressively try to retain control of how it is portrayed in public. Last year, FedEx sent a Tempe, Ariz., man a cease-and-desist letter demanding he take down his Web site that showed furniture - such as a desk and chairs - made out of FedEx boxes. “The FedEx brand is one of our most valuable assets,” says Howard Clabo, a FedEx spokesman. “In this particular instance, we simply asked that the violator stop using our brand for their personal benefit.” The site was down for a brief period but reappeared earlier this year.

For Mentos, however, the video buzz offers an opportunity too good to pass up. The candy maker is considering hiring the Eepybird.com duo to do demonstrations of their fountain trick - perhaps even as the opening act for a music-concert tour, says Healy.

The men, Fritz Grobe, a 37-year-old professional juggler, and Stephen Voltz, 48-year-old lawyer, from Buckfield, Me., belong to a local theater company called Oddfellow theater. They got the idea after seeing a less sophisticated version online, and “We wanted to make it bigger and better and turn it into something theatrical,” says Mr. Grobe.

After experimenting with different combinations of sodas and candies - establishing that Mentos and Diet Coke produced the most spectacular effect - they posted their film on EepyBird.com, a site they operate, on June 3. By last Friday, more than 800,000 people had watched the video on Revver.com, a broadband-video site. The pair say they have also had calls from several late-night talk shows, including CBS’s “Late Show with David Letterman.”

“It’s all very exciting, it’s been a whirlwind of attention,” says Grobe. “We would be happy to help Mentos,” adds Voltz.

What’s the chemistry behind the geyser? San Diego chemist Neal Langerman suggests the answer lies in the higher level of carbon dioxide in diet sodas than other sodas and the porous surface area of a Mentos. Langerman, the past chairman of the division of chemical health and safety at the American Chemical Society, said similar results wouldn’t be achieved with an M&M, for instance, “which is really solid.” Diet Coke has more carbon dioxide than Diet Pepsi, he says. Coke wouldn’t comment on the comparison.

2006-03-09T14:19:00.001+02:00

This is a video we made of Shira singing like a cat on the Moshav almost a year ago. It came out really well, and a couple thousand downloads later on google video, its still a very popular video. We made the video using Real Illusions Crazy Talk 4 along with a number of other videos. The software has some great features, and has unlimited, if sometimes a bit creepy uses.