More socks, more army gear

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.

From buttons to shirts

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.

Return of the Schwartz and the Dinner at Dougie's

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!

Grey Socks: My Army Adventure Begins

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.

First Rain in Tel Aviv

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.