Offensive Slang

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…

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

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.

1. 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.
   
2. 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.
3. 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
4. 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.
5. 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.
6. 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.
7. 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):

1. 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.
   
2. 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
   
3. 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!

Waiting in the Misrad HaRishui for a drivers licence

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.

Savlanut

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!

Sufganiot explained

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

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.

Happy belated Thanksgiving

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!

Kubah Soup Recipe

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.

Exam over, waiting on results

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:

1. Shoot first and ask questions later
2. Shout a warning, fire in the air, and then fire to injure but not kill
3. 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.

Police exam next week

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

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

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

In search of a bagel

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.

9mm Mossad Fratelli breakdown

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.