Men's Club, Movies and Mega

Men's Club
Picture the jacuzzi room at Ramat Rachel at 5:30pm on an average day. 5:30pm is achar ha'tza'ha'ra'yim/the afternoon, which means after 4:00pm. Many older men show up, in their teensy, weensy bikinis, young and old, short and tall. They meet, they greet, they gossip, they play sheshbesh/backgammon, they eat snacks and drink coffee - in short, they hang out, primarily, in the jacuzzi. So, Jess and I finish swimming and we enter the jacuzzi area and there are guys everywhere. We sit in the 'shvitz' and yap with 2 older guys about how to play with the thermostat and make the steam hotter. We sit in the jacuzzi and listen to the chatter about pensions, wives and children, work, and other scintillating matters. It's surprising relaxing, once you get over the initial shock.

Movies
We went to the movies last night. First time since we got here. Went with Jess, friend Esther and Ira. Actually, the first time I've seen a movie since I don't know when - can't remember the last one. Saw The Queen. Excellent. First, we went (yes, don't be surprised) to Burgers Bar and ate eh burgers and greasy fries. Burger was flat and bun thick but components - lettuce, pickles, garlic mayo (opt), chimichuri sauce (opt and not bad at all), ketchup and tomato, made a decent presentation. And hey, it was kosher, too. Jess says the burgers are better at another local place.

I had forgotten that movies in Israel are a particular kind of experience. Reserved seats on your ticket. This means you can nurse your coffee until the last minute and walk in and still find a seat. It also means that if you reserve late, you run the risk of sitting in the front row and there's nothing you can do about it. Of course, there was the guy who walked in when it was dark and the previews had just started. He called out for his wife who responded "Avi, we're in the 4th row." My memories of movies in this country date back to 1970. We lived in our summer rental in Kiryat Ha'yovel. There was Cinema 1, up the block. We saw "Gone With the Wind" - burning of Atlanta, Tara and Scarlett O'Hara, in living color. People used to yap alot during movies, since they were reading subtitles anyway. They'd drink their cokes and roll their bottles down the uncarpeted aisles. They eat sunflower seeds and make piles of shells on the side of their seats. Every theater had a sign in Hebrew - don't crack sunflower seeds. I remember seeing Quo Vadis in Tzfat a billion years ago - quite the experience. Then there was History of the World, Part 1, the Mel Brooks movie - they didn't get that one, either.

This time, behavior was better. Perhaps it was Helen Mirren's example as Queen Elizabeth. There's also the time honored intermission, usually during a love scene or cliff hanger. It's a Jewish country, maybe someone's hungry or needs to go to the bathroom (I always do). No one should be uncomfortable.

Mega
Did a really fast shop in Mega today. It's indicative of how much better we are at maneuvering in the grocery store. Knew where to go, didn't spend too much time over label reading and deciphering, didn't get dazzled by new products and the specials of the week. Just picked up the bare essentials and ran out. Mega isn't my favorite store but it was fine for the usual bread, humous, fruit, and such.

Torah, Torah, Torah

Was present at the dedication of a Torah scroll at Shira Hadasha - you know, that's the shul with all the singing, that makes Ira crazy but makes me happy. Anyway, in honor of their 5th Anniversary, there was a Torah being dedicated in memory of a member's mother, who died a year ago. I went along for the ride with Jess and courtesy of her, had cadged myself a bit part for the night. More on that later.

We met up at a house where the final letters of the scroll were being finished. Interestingly enough, anyone was welcome if they were male and right handed. Something about left handedness being a problem, unless I guess, the whole scroll was written by a left handed sofer/scribe. As I arrived, amid noshing children and adults, Daniel (Jess's) was sitting and filling in a letter, which he said, was quite a thrill. The sofer had the usual bearded look but was wearing outrageous magnifying glasses while he worked and supervised the "filler inners." When all was finished, he produced, of all things, a blow dryer and dried the scroll off. The Torah was dressed, in a lovely velvet, embroidered cover and carried off for it's walk to Shira Hadasha (about 5-7 minutes away). Btw, the Torah is a small one, designed to be portable and to bed used for happy occasions like B'nei Mitzva and sad occasions, being brought to a shiva home.

We exited outside and were greeted by noise and excitement. A van had arrived, pulled by a car in the front. The van was lit up with colored lights and decorated with a large, lit up crown on top. It sparkled and twinkled and frumy, hassidishe music was playing. I'm not sure why you have to listen to Hassidic music at such an occasion but it seemed appropriate to all. There was a huppa/canopy in back, and the Torah traveled under the huppa along with singing and dancing to the shul building.

Jess and I ran off to Shira Hadasha, to pick up the Torah's that are already there and bring them to the entrance gate to "meet" the new Torah. That was my special job. We came to the gate, Torah's in our arms and were met by kids with torches - shades of "I'll get you my pretty," but everyone assured me no problem, not to worry about little kids with fire (typical Israel). The van arrived, the new Torah arrived and we made our way into the building, up the stairs and into the main space with song and dance. It was fun and relaxed in its way and I enjoyed it very much. The family that had dedicated the Torah spoke - the wife did, about her mother and about her feelings toward the community and the support that they had offered here when her mother died. After 1 other speech from the community thanking the family, the 3 grandchildren got up and read from the Torah. That was fun as the youngest was a girl of about 8 or 9 and the next child about 11 and the oldest was probably of Bar Mitzvah age. Shira Hadasha has it's problems - too crowded, too much yuh'buh'buh'ing, the mechitza - but it's resolutely an egalitarian, orthodox model and it works and it makes for a community where the women really feel that they matter. They do as a matter of fact and that makes it a good place. As well, there is no other place that I have ever been to that has singers that take their singing as lustily. I say this, as I was there this week on Fri night and Sat and sometimes you wish they'd move on to the next prayer but there's an attention to prayer, a love of prayer and a sheer enjoyment of the whole thing that is infectious. I am fortunate that the women are a friendly bunch - open, warm and welcoming - especially after they see you return on a regular basis. Unfortunately, the guys are not that friendly and the only thing that we've been able to figure out by now is that it's a guy thing - guys have to daven and that's that and there's a suspicion of being friendly to a tourist when they won't be around next week. I say, what's wrong with being friendly with tourists. Anyway, enough of that. It was a good 5th Anniv celebration and it continues to be a place that calls to me.

Shavua Tov. A good week to all.

Belleayre Day

I came home smiling, after driving about 8 hours today (well, brother Jon drove about an hour or so for me at one point) so that I could have the Belleayre experience, or rather, the Jiminy Peak experience. That is, I went skiing for the day. The big boys and I, sans Ira and Akiva, and accompanied by niece Helaina who is here for 2nd semester at Hebrew U, drove up to the Hermon.

It was a true of act of skiing faith that we actually went, and a stroke of good fortune that we managed to ski. We had planned the day trip with my brother Jon and 2 of his four, Adam (18) and Talya (11). After Shabbat, we spoke on the phone. It was stormy in J'lem - howling winds and strong rains and the Hermon was receiving snow and nobody know how this wuold effect the opening. I asked, "When it snow, doesn't the mountain stay open? That's how it works in the States" I was told, "Nothing works here the way it does back in the States." In the States, as any good skier knows, upon hearing of a snowstorm, you pile into the car and drive north, hoping your tires and forebearance will hold out until you reach the mountain and make fresh tracks in the snow. The Hermon, by comparison, closed down in bad weather on Saturday and had to take 1000 skiers off the mountain. I remember a day at Belleayre last year, where we skied, essentially, in the fog. The next time we went back, we were amazed at what we had skied down because in clear conditions we had to stare down the headwall of a steep run, always a daunting sight, as opposed to ski it blind because we couldn't see it in the fog. I did feel that I should have gotten a refund from Bellearye that day but chalked it up to win some lose some.

When we spoke to Jon on Sat night, he was pessemistic. He said that when the snow is heavy, visibility is lousy up there and the fog descends and they close the mountain. He himself was caught on a lift that lost electricity during a storm a few years ago. Jonathan recommended that we should pack our bathing suits and the worst case scenario, go to the hot springs at Hamat Gader, near Tiberias. Ok, that sounded good to me and to Helaina as well. We packed up, after searching through the machsan/storage room downstairs for our skis and accessories, and made many sandwiches and headed for bed, a 5:00am wakeup call planned. Note: Ira wasn't going. In his continued efforts to pull up lame at all times, he had wrenched his back and wasn't skiworthy. He'd get Akiva off to school and receive him and also make time for a trip to the chiropractor.

I went to sleep feeling anticpicatory. I didn't sleep well, sleeping on what I call the "local," waking up every hour or so to go to the bathroom and listen to the wind whistle through the trissim/shutters and the rain beat against the window. At 5:00, I checked the Israel Weather Service report and we learned that the it had snowed and was still snowing but should be letting up, with weather improving up north during the day. Jon called at 5:20am and thought we should bag the whole plan but he'd go with my decision. We discussed and called him back and told him we were on. We decided to drive until 8:00am, when we'd be able to check with the Hermon and find out if they were opening or not. At 5:45am, we were on our way.

Jonathan had prevailed upon me to drive towards him and continue up Route 6, cutting through the middle of the country. I had planned to drive through the Jordan Valley, on the Beka'a road, which would have saved me some time but agreed with him as it's a narrow road and likely to flood in bad weather and the rain was still heavy at times when we left. We met up on Route 6, after a necessary gas, coffee and potty stop at about 6:45ish. I'm finally getting better at pumping gas but they ask for way too much information - first you swipe your card, then enter your TZ/identity card #, then your license # (I always have to look) and then you can fill your tank.

We headed up Route 6, toward Yok'neam and then turning into Wadi Ara, eventually running parallel with the Kinneret/Sea of Gallilee, which we could catch the occasional glimpse of. The weather had improved and we noted a patch of sun through the clouds over to the East and felt sure that that was the direction to which we were heading. At 8:00am, I listened to the news which was about choosing the new commander of the Israeli army, who'd been blown up in Baghdad, including the terrible information about the large number of American soldiers who'd been killed over the weekend, and the Kassam that had landed in an open field and caused no injuries down south. The report ended with the weather and the important words, "the Hermon will be open today," which everyone in the car, down to Helaina, understood. Jonathan, called the mountain and had that information confirmed. Cheers. We continued driving, passing Rosh Pina, and heading toward Kiryat Shimona which we drove through and continued East toward the Hermon. At some point, probably around Rosh Pina, we saw the Hermon, large, imposing and snow-capped in the distance. That's when we all realized that we really would go skiing at some point.

We arrived at about 9:45am, paying the entrance fee (per person!) to get in. We headed up to the lodge, shlepping our stuff (Jonathan insisted on putting on his ski pants in the car, even tho I assured him that he could do it in the lodge but like any good Israeli, he is used to car changes for anything from bathing suits to ski pants) in. It looked, like any basic ski lodge - nothing fancy and basic in it's amenities. Bathrooms, cafe with sandwiches and coffee, shop with hats and gloves for all those unsuspecting Israelis who'll show up to admire the snow and realize that they're cold and ski shop with ski related stuff. We rented equipment and proceded to get ready for our day on the slopes. Skiing at the Hermon is pricey, certainly by Israeli standards and definitely by Skop/Steinberg "skiing on the cheap" standards. Lift tix were 200nis each, or about $50, regardless of age (no discounts for kids and no free skiing for 70+) and rentals were about 135nis or $30. We were lucky, we had hit a special and rented for 70nis or $15. Good savings for us. In the States, we rented for the boys each season, figuring that we'd invest in permanent equipment when they finished growing. We're thinking that Natan may be ready for boots and skis - maybe we'll wait another year. We also had a ski rack in NYC but left in the basement of 409 Pacific as we didn't know if it would make sense to shlep it here for the handful of times we're likely to get up to the Hermon. As well, we didn't know if it would fit on our car here (it wouldn't), so we couldn't take my skis with us but at least I brought my boots, but STILL had to pay the full fee just to rent skis - sigh. When we go back again, we're going to look into staying overnight as we're told that the lodging deals include lift tix and are generally worth it.

We got ourselves ready and out on the slopes, excited and anticipatory. A few facts on the Hermon from Wikipedia, but I will tell you that Gabe knew the elevation, which he learned in Ulpan in his Hebrew geography class. Mount Hermon (33°24′N 35°51′E; Hebrew: הר חרמון‎, Har Hermon; Arabic: جبل الشيخ‎, Jabal el-Shaiykh, Djabl a-Shekh, "mountain of the chief" and "snowy mountain") is a mountain in the Anti-Lebanon mountain range. Its highest point is 2,814 m (9,230 feet) above sea level. This summit is on the border between Syria and Lebanon, and is under Syrian control. The southern and western slopes of Mount Hermon came under the control of Israel as a result of the Israeli victory in the 1967 Six-Day War.

The Israeli sector of the mountain is heavily patrolled by the Israel Defense Forces and the Israel Police, and the Israeli Security Forces maintain a strategic observation post for monitoring Syrian and Lebanese military activity near Mitzpe Shelagim ("Snow Lookout"), which is at an elevation of about 2,224 m (7300 feet). Its adjacent peak, at 2,236 m, is the highest elevation under Israeli control.

Happily, it looked very much like a ski resort, albeit an underdeveloped one. The resort is managed by Majdal Shams, a Druze village right at the base of the mountain, and Neve Ativ, a moshav a few kilometers south of the mountain. It's absolutely beautiful up there and topographically, it reminded me alot of the look of the Little Cottonwood Canyon, where we skiied last March, in Utah. Scrubby, rocky looking mountains, that you snake through on switchbacks, gradually seeing patches of snow that eventually turn into a light frosting and then, suddenly, heavy coverage. The mountain is big and craggy, and above the treeline, and it stares down upon the visitor with imposing demeanor. There are not alot of runs, although I'm told it's alot better than it was 15 years ago, and there are beautiful, untouched areas of virgin snow, that just beg for a brave skier to venture into. Thing is, the snow is heavy and moist, not light fluffy powder and one wonders if a skier would get stuck in the wetter stuff, beneath the upper crust of snow. I saw a few off piste skiers, but felt that without fatter skis and without a knowledgeable guide, it was not going to work. Anyway, we had our work cut out for us, with 3 beginner skiers to take down the mountain. Talya was the most experienced, with Helaina a close second and Adam a rank beginner. They were all game and worked hard all day. Gabe took Talya under his wing and she followed him down, much like the rows of little ones in ski school filing after their instructor like ducks in a line and Natan handled Adam for a good portion of the time, especially after Adam admitted to Natan that he needed a crash course in turning. Helaine was slow and steady but made good headway in getting herself down the runs successfully. After a while we switched and I bothered Adam much in the same way Rebecca Schiffman used to bother him - "pick up your butt, keep your poles in front of you, look down the mountain," and then, when he tired, went back to basic ski kid talk, "pizza/snowplow and french fries/parallel." He did well. We stopped for lunch as Jon had insisted we keep our sandwiches in a backpack with us. We ate voraciously of our smushed but tasty sandwiches and headed back for more. As warned, fog had descended earlier in the day which had made skiing the upper mountain hard, esp with our new skiers but we managed. At about 2:00pm, the fog lifted and Jon and I headed for the other side of the mountain. Natan and Gabe were tiring and stayed with Helaina (Talya and Adam had traded their skis for sleds), eventually going into the lodge and returning their skis. Jonathan and I headed over to the Siyon side, taking a rope tow up to another spot. We got off the rope tow and there we were at the top of a beautiful canyon, complete with a snow crusted cliff to our right. We skied along the upper rim - I had to sightsee and stop along the way, agog at the beauty and grandeur of the mountain, which we had, virtually to ourselves. We skied down into a valley, towards the base of the Western face of the other peak that we had been skiing on earlier. The snow cover was thick, the quite was absolute, except for the soft schuss of the skis. We reached the bottom, by the lift, alongside the lift house and watched a few soldiers joking with the workers, smoking cigarettes, their rifles hanging alongside their sides, their green uniforms at odds with the pristine beauty surrounding them. We had seen other soldiers during the day, wearing white coveralls, skiing with us, some on some of the oldest equipment I'd ever seen. These were members of a unit that patrols the Hermon and I'm told they train in Norway. Got to find out more, maybe they're interested in one of mine for such a posting. They didn't look like hotshot skiers but I only saw a few of them out on training runs. I don't think there's an Israeli ski team but skiing in the army, there's an idea...

We headed up the lift - all the lifts were slow 2-chairs but the weather at this point was warmer than it had been all day and we were tired. It was too late for another run down the valley so we headed over to the other peak and skiied down - answering the phone on the way, it was Helaina, wondering where we were - and headed for the lodge and the gift of every ski day, taking off your ski boots. The kids were already in their street shoes. We gathered our stuff and changed and got ready to leave.

A note about the skiers. Most of them were newbies and most, rank newbies. Normally, when one goes skiing, there's always a few impressive skiers, who zip past the likes of the rest, carving beautiful arcs into the snow. I would say that there were none of those but lots of happy beginners with a bunch of intermediates thrown in for good measure. What we saw alot of were new skiers. New skiers, complete with tzitzit and kippot flying in the wind, new skiers with skirts over ski pants (and sometime not), new skiers with jeans and sweat pants, wet on their behinds, skiing or trying to ski and generally getting in the way and falling all over the place and mucking about in areas they shouldn't have been finding themselves in. I was glad I had my helmet but it was fun to see such happy newbies enjoying the snow. Maybe they just put out their cigarettes and hang up their phones (I stopped when I answered mine, unlike another guy I saw skiing and talking) and they'll be less of a threat to everyone on the mountain.

We were ready to leave at about 4:15pm with a minor complication. I was to deliver Natan to his play rehearsal at 8:00pm in J'lem. It was starting at 7 but I had dispensation to bring him late. What to do. There was no way that we could get home and have sahlab, which Jonathan had been planning all afternoon. We'd have to drive the Jordan Valley way on our own and it was getting dark and I was thinking I didn't want to. I called the director and said, "W're fine, had a good day and just wondering how much you need Natan." Leah had given us her blessing to go but had exhorted Natan not to come back with a broken jaw as the last actor had done during the play period. She said, "Well, I'd like to have him." I said, "No problem, I'll get in the car and get him to you." She said, "I don't want you driving like a maniac." Excellent. I had invoked Jewish mother guilt. I said, "No, we'll be fine but, I'll tell you, this has been a good day for Natan. He's been working hard and under alot of strain and it's a special day for him. BUT...if you need him, I'll get him back to you." I should add, that as expected, Natan is an excellent and responsible cast member and knows his lines and his blocking and I'll tell you more about the play another time. Leah thought and said, "Don't hurry back, it's ok." I asked her again if she was sure and she said she was. Natan was overjoyed.

We headed down the mountain and made our first stops at a group of small shacks right as you exit the entrance to the area. We stopped, according to Jonathan's scientific analysis, not at the first or the last but the middle person. We were greeted by hot cups of sweet and spicy tea. She told us that it had sage and cinnamon in it. Lovely and restorative. Then, we ordered large druzi pita sandwiches. I tasted, saving myself for the sahlab. They looked like crepes almost - quite flat and large. She folded one in half and laid it across an overturned pan, shaped much like an upside down wok, and warmed the pita. Then she slathered it with either chocolate spread (for Gabe and Talya) or labne (soft yogurt cheese), sprinkled with a hot, spicy herb mix and a drizzle of olive oil and folded the whole thing up for eating. She offered tastes of homemade cherry preserves (not too sweet, complete with pits) and something she called, grape honey, which was sweet and syrupy, perhaps a cooked down syrup from grape juice. We tasted her olives, which were crunchy and good and some sort of salted bean - perhaps a relative to ful beans but smaller. We got a few cups of sahlab. Hers was quite unusual with an almost sagelike taste or maybe it was lavender - not my favorite, and it lacked what Jon and I consider essential, chopped nuts, but we drank anyway, some of us dumping midway, or giving to Natan to finish. We headed off, extra pittot and jam in tow, and Jonathan decided to stop at the last shack, veering from his scientific hypothesis of the past, and we sampled another sahlab which Helaina liked more but which I thought was lacking completely. After a quick stop 10 minutes later to view a waterfall, we got on the road, driving to Rosh Pina, where we stopped for a quick potty stop and a driver change (Jonathan took over for me). We considered eating humus but of course, everyone was full, not surprisingly.

Jonathan drove the next leg back down to Route 6 and we switched again, when we neared Kochav Ya'ir and I took us back up the hill to Jerusalem, listening to the soft snuffle of Natan's snoring in the back seat. We arrived home at about 9:15pm - really not a bad trip overall and I think, under the projected 4 hours each way but didn't clock it of course, much to Ira's chagrin, and we'll analyze it further the next time we go, hopefully, in a few weeks (assuming there's still snow).

I went to bed exhausted but content. It had been hard to leave NY, knowing that skiing here would be complicated and different. This wasn't bad at all, and it was a good realization for the big boys as well. Maybe next year, we'll manage a real ski trip somewhere exciting, assuming global warming hasn't totally destroyed the glaciars in the Alps, but meantime, we've got the Hermon, right here in Israel.

Red Letter Day

Last Thurs, Jan 11 was a Red Letter Day. It was my birthday and I was reared in a home where birthdays were respected. This means that a few days, or if you were younger, a few months, you began planning. You planned your party, if you were still of that mind, you thought over your presents and let the interested parties know, and most importantly, you planned your birthday dinner.

Presents were complicated since I am a January baby, which means that if my mother didn't look into my present in advance of my birthday, it would mean no present or not the right present, as in the case of the year that I wanted, really wanted, really, really wanted Dawn's Beauty Pageant and received, instead, Dawn Dance Party because they Beauty Pageants had all been bought out at Xmastime. Dawn Beauty Pageant looked just like a beauty pageant stage, albeith with Bert Parks, complete with runway with moveable device that you could set the doll on and move her up and down the runway. There was a Dawn doll that came, with a beautiful evening gown on, pink with spangles and such and she was a blonde, I recall, and certain to win the contest. It was Miss America, scaled down for the average girl. Dawn Dance Party was fun, but it wasn't the same. It was smaller and Dawn stood on this stand and you rotated her around in pseudo dance mode. It did come with Dale, who was this hip, Black, Dawn doll, complete with groovy orange mini. I still have Dale. Jess and I divided up the Dawn spoils a few years ago, most of it going to niece Elisheva, when she was smaller. I think Jess kept the blonde doll. In later years, I ceded the collection to Jessica, who was into minatures and I helped her build a lovely domicile for the dolls, complete with furnishing, wallpaper and other built-in design features that were my specialty as older sister. The house was built into the lower shelves of the bookshelves in the family room in Malverne. Sometime in the 3rd grade or so, the doll condo was laid to waste by Jess's friend Mindy Elfenbein who was bored one Friday night and said, "Let's stage a robbery!" Needless to say, there was quite the controversy after this but I recall that the house was rebuilt.

This past Thursday, a b-day dinner was planned in the most relaxed of ways, to be held at Jess and Daniel's place. We've gone to dinner at their house on the occasional Thurs as they have pizza night every Thurs with Daniel's mother, Rita and other friends of theirs who live in Mod'iin (it's a rotating cast depending on the Thurs). I was feeling at loose ends about my birthday as Thursday, Jan 11th, was also the day that my father was having a repeat CAT scan and having it read by his oncologist. It wasn't going to feel that celebratory or certainly had that capability. For the many of my readers who've asked continuously about his health, he's been doing well, continuing with his chemo - every other week - and has been alot stronger than he'd been when all this started in late August. That said, the thought of another CAT scan made us all, especially my mother and father, quite nervous. I was feeling relatively postive - that is, my father was stronger, he looked better, he was eating well and had regained all weight lost - but you never know. I hoped for at least no further growth in the tumor on his pancreas. So, if the news was good, my birthday dinner would be easier to celebrate and if not, at least we'd all be together. So as not to keep you on edge, I can tell you that the news was/is good. His tumor shrank by a centimeter which is quite significant - an overall 25% shrink. This was unbelievable news, to which Jess and I and my parents were the first one to be privy. The oncologist was delighted and we couldn't believe it. The chemo was, at best, only likely to be successful in 10% of cases in terms of shrinking tumors. More likely would have been no shrinkage, a 20% chance. Given those odds, we didn't no what to expect. The upshot, another round of chemo and we'll see how he does this time. If things stay good or even stable, perhaps a break from chemo in the spring. We got a good look at his CAT scan - quite fascinating, really, in an odd way. Saw the tumor and saw his stent, sitting pretty since August. I feel quite the expert on stents and livers, so it was just a continuation of my liver education that started with Liat and Don's livers last years. We all drove home together - my mother dropping me and Jess off at our respective homes - in a state of stunned happiness and agreed that we should have a bit of champagne later, at the now to be sure celebratory birthday get together.

A bit about the birthday dinner. This meant that you could choose. My mother was not one for discussion when it came to dinner growing up. She cooked, we ate. There wasn't much talk or kvetching about what we didn't like or not. Maybe she was lucky and we weren't picky. Maybe she was a good cook, unlike the mother's of some of my friends who were challenged in the kitchen - she was/is a good cook. All I know is that she prepared a respectable meal every night for a billion years. Meat - this included London broil (which I never liked), meat loaf and it's cousins, including hamburger and sloppy Joe's and such (some of which I liked and didn't like), minute steaks (which I didn't like) and chicken (this was always fine with us but I never met chicken breasts until later in life, we dined on dark meat, which my parents preferred or learned to prefer in feeding 4 hungry children). Fish was a once a week occurrence - Thursday nights, and always teemed with chocolate pudding or we never would have eaten it. It was also frozen, as was the style of the time and therefore, somewhat lacking in taste, altho I did love my mother's fish chowder and probably at least once, requested it for a birthday dinner. One could easily eat it and look past the bits of fish for the potatoes and tomatoes. There was always a sensible salad to open with, or, a half of grapefruit, which we children would carefully cut and segment using the grapefruit knife. Sister Sarah, used to eat her entire grapefruit, down to the pith, which always seemed horrible to me in earlier years. A starch to round out the meal and here's where the trouble came in. My mother, to stave off cooks' boredom (and I know of what I speak), would try different things from baked potatoes (always good) to brown rice with mushrooms (bordering on questionnable) to kasha (absolutely horrible). My father, who actually liked kasha, would smash his kasha down into a nice flat mash and then tunnel into it, creating windows and doors and tell us (ostensibly to amuse us but it was horrifying, really) how tasty it was while eating his creation. I mean, had she made kasha varnishkes, we might have coped but she was a purist and probably looking for the easy methodology but really, what kid is going to eat a pile of kasha?

My mother had wonderful specialty dishes, mainly for Shabbat - veal ribs with sweet and sour sauce (definitely requested if your birthday fell on Shabbat), stuffed veal breast (this, I actually requested one special birthday), and a range of kugels, sweet and savory, particular favorites being her potato kugel (she makes the best one) and sweet, dairy, noodle kugel, each piece being at least 2000 calories and probably 15 grams of fat, but hey, she only made it for break fast and for Shavuot. Lasagna entered into our repertoire when I was in HS, I think, and her recipe used cottage cheese (who knew of ricotta) and had tuna in the sauce, which Sarah's Italian friends at college thought was really wierd. It did have mozzarella and I remember that my mother wrote to Polly O asking about their cheese manufactoring methods because it didn't have a hechsher/kosher marking, and she had never used such a cheese before. They must have responded the right way as she started making lasagna regularly. My favorite pre-lasagna, pasta dish, that really, was the only dish she made with pasta besides spaghetti and meatballs ("it's a favorite with everyone," said Father), was tuna casserole. That perfect blend of pasta with tuna and, you guessed it, cream of mushroom soup, topped with a few slices of american cheese (which isn't a cheese but who knew), and baked to perfection. I definitely used to request that for a birthday dinner, and in later years, when my mother tried out new pasta thems, used to ask and then make myself, her spinach noodle casserole with salmon and poppyseeds - Umm good. I will tell you that when Daniel came home from his last trip to the States, he brought home, in addition to cranberries for all of us (which are in my freezer), 2 cans of cream of mushroom soup. I said, "Mom, you can make a white sauce. It's easy and healthier than canned soup, which has all sorts of nasty things in it." My mother replied, "It's easier to open a can and besides, I like it that way. How often do I make it, anyway?"

Back to my birthday dinner. Nobody asked me what I wanted. The menu on Thursday never changes. It is always, pancakes (made by Rita and they're quite good and a perfect appetizer, esp when Jess is making pizza which takes time), pizza (homemade by Jess on special occasions. like my birthday) with opt toppings (olives, onions, peppers, mushrooms) and salad (we must have some salad to round it out. Dessert - ice cream of course but not mandatory. I was concerned about birthday cake and prevailed on Ira and Gabe to bake a cake that I wanted to eat and they made an excellent apple cake but like all things baked in our oven here, it burned. My parents were coming too and that was good, and Sarah and Noam were going to drive up and get there a bit late. Miriam, Daniel's sister came along for the fun and to see Sarah. Missing were Natan (rehearsal), Amira (Daniel's oldest, had a field trip at school and got home late), and the rest of Sarah's crew (Michael in Belgium, Benjy busy and Elisheva in training in the army). Jon, et al, were busy and that was fine. I wasn't looking for a 21 gun salute.

We had a good time. We laughed, drank scotch, ate pizza, pancakes and salad and felt happy. It was the first time in my adult memory that I sat around and had dinner with family members, other than the immediate, to share my birthday. I even got presents, which was so nice and it made the whole day great. Meaning, had I not gotten presents it still would have been nice but everyone likes to be remembered once in a while with a little something. The pizza was dandy, Sarah baked an excellent apple cake (she knows what I like and this way we saved our burned but still tasty cake for Shabbat) and the company was perfect. My first birthday in Israel, (actually my second but that was 24 years ago), not bad at all.

Reunions

You may wonder where I've been the last week and a half. I've been managing sick bay here at Rabenu Politi #3. Ira, as many of his readers know, has been down and out - a bit of pneumonia the doctor said (altho it did take 2 doctors to arrive at this diagnosis), a horrible cough that grew out of a dust attack - that's what happens when you don't vaccum for a well - from our living room carpet, a few nights without sleep for the both of us and then, the piece de resistance, smacking his head, amid a coughing fit, onto the bathroom doorpost, which being a steel frame, was ill advised to say the least. This resulted in a trip to the local emergency clinic, which went surprisingly well and was filled with fluey adults and sniffly kids and Ira with his luch in kup/hole in head. It is an impressive wound and it's healing nicely, glued up into a nice, 2" scabby looking wound (and will no doubt leave a lovely scar), which when combined with the now unearthly sound of Ira's voice - he's lost it entirely - makes him seem a little like He Who Must Not Be Named (for all you Harry Potter fans).

In the midst of all this misadventure, Akiva got sick - light virus and congestion but it passed reasonably well and only required one night of sleeping on the foof nearby in case of 3am barfing and Gabe continues to hack - yes, we'll take him to the doctor this week. Natan and I are both lightly sinusy and I've got a cough but have held up well under the strain of cups of tea and honey brewed and pots of soup prepared. By Shabbat, we were all beat though, and it was rainy and nasty and we all stayed home and worked on a puzzle, which was nice.

As to the reunion of my title. When I was in Israel in 1982, I lived with Barbara Hurwitz. Barb and I were both doing Sherut La'am, a sort of Peace Corps progam here in Israel. We shared an apt in Z'fat up north and later that year lived together in Jerusalem. The idea was that you lived in a Development Town and did some sort of worthy work. I worked with 2 women who had created an inovative drama/arts program for the local schools and Barbara did something else but I can no longer remember what. It was a great year. That December, we went on a tiyul/trip with Sherut La'am during Chanukah, hiking in the Negev, the south. It was a chance for all of the Sherut La'am'niks to meet and greet and have fun. We had a ball. On day 2, I believe, Barbara met Jay Shofet, her husband of 21 years or so. Actually, I met him first...but anyway, it was all moot once they laid eyes on each other. The three of us had alot of fun together that year and returned home to NYC after the year. Jay and I discovered a few interesting connections that year. One, that he was from Millerton, not far from Camp Ramah in the Berkshires, and had actually gone to Webatuck High School, which amazed me, having driven past it on numerous occasions and two, that his mother, Shirley Abrahamson Shoifet, had grown up in New Brittain, Ct, where my father hails from. When we were Stateside that June, our respective parents chatted on the phone and enjoyed reconnecting - they had known each other as kids (it was a small Jewish community) - but it didn't go beyond that.

Flash to 2006 and Jay and Barb were marking their younger son, Nadav's Bar Mitzvah. All the grandparents and family came in from the US. There were Jay's parents, whom I haven't seen in sometime. They brought with them a picture of the Hebrew School of New Brittain, Ct, circa 1942/3. There was my father, Jay's mom and various other names from my father's past. As well, Jay's Cousin Judy was at the BarM and she and her husband, Irving (what else), are bosom buddies of my cousin Joe Brodie, also from New Brittain. Shirley took one look at Natan and pronounced him the spitting image of Teddy Steinberg. He does look alot like my Dad, esp when you look at pics from his teenage years. So...after some delays, a meeting was arranged and I met up with Shirley and her husband, Jake along with Jay, at my parents house this afternoon.

It was really nice for my Dad. Essentially, he left New Brittain at around 14 to attend a Mesivta on East Broadway. After he finished there, he went on to Yeshiva University for College and Rabbinical School. Although he frequently went home for Shabbatot and holidays, he didn't keep up his ties with all of the buddies of his youth - the guys that he played baseball with and, according to Shirley, "cut up around town with." As well, it gave him a chance to talk about all the names of peoples and streets and locations of New Brittain of the 1930's and 40's. His parents eventually left New Brittain along with some of the family, and ended up in Norwich, Ct (some went to Hartford), so my Dad would drive thru on occasion to visit the cemetery or go see a friend who was local pharmacist but those trips were few and far between. He's been nostalgic lately and this was the perfect opportunity to indulge those feelings. Shirley was great, she remembers everything and everyone and was a font of information about who had married whom and where they had gone.

We took some pictures and I'll have to see if I can download them from my phone and send them around to the 2 families. I was reminded of this great kid's book that everyone should read and it's called, "Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge" and it's about people and their memories. It's written by Julie Vivas and beautifully illustrated by Mem Fox. Read it.

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago, it must be I have a photograph
Preserve your memoriesThey're all that's left you"
Paul Simon/Bookends

Midnight Mass

So, on Xmas eve, DRB-Debra Reed Blank, said to me, "Do you want to go to midnight mass at Latrun?" Latrun, is a monastery on the road to Tel Aviv, established in the 1890's (and then rebuilt in the 1920's after they were expelled by the Turks, I think) by Trappists monks complete with monks chanting(quietly, I imagine, as these monks live with an oath of silence in their daily lives), a vineyard and supposedly lovely gardens. I thought, hmm, midnight mass, monks, could be interesting. The weather had been getting colder, though, and the thought of the drive back and forth and the lateness had me a little less than thrilled. Jessica suggested Abu Gosh, which is slightly closer and is a Christian Arab village to where I've only been to eat humous but which she said is a popular place for midnight mass on xmas eve.

I asked Ira what he thought - he wasn't sure about the whole thing, just didn't think he wanted to go. We thought about it over the next few hours and as the day progressed, I decided that I was curious to go somewhere. All those years in the Catholic Ward known as Carroll Gardens and I had never gone, while Ralph and Lisa and Debra and Arnie were regulars at St. Mary Star of the Sea and what's the name of the big church on Hoyt? We even lived on Summit St for the first 2 years of our marriage, home to St Stephens, and witnessed the Saint ( I thought Theresa but maybe Mary?) being carried about the neighborhood, knife to her heart, well dressed men in tuxedos walking behind her as she blessed the streets of the neighborhood - she came out 2x a year, Easter and ?, and one time of the year it was happy and the other time dirgelike (maybe on Easter) and people would gather (after the gun salute) and look as she was carried on her byre and say things like "she looks good this year."

DRB called back and said she had read that we could go to Eyn Karem, which is closer and at the edge of the Jerusalem Forest, just west of us. They had a choir which would sing at 11:30 but it didn't look like they did a mass. I called Lisa Smith to invite her and after a moment's thought, she said yes and then, "what should we wear?"

During the early evening, amid dinner preparations for all, I kindly making new food so that those who didn't want to eat Shabbat leftovers, like me, had new choices - quinoa with sauteed veggies and marinated tofu - we discussed when to leave, 10:30ish, should we reconsider driving down to Latrun, no, how cold would it be, cold, and did the kids want to come, especially Natan, yes but he had an early test the next day - prep for Eng bagruyot - so, no.

At 9:30ish, DRB called. She pronounced extreme fatigue. I'd like to say that both Ira and I had extreme doubts as to whether or not she'd make it to the alarmingly late, for her that is, hour of 11:30. DRB is known as an early to bed kind of girl and the fact that she'd suggested midnight mass was nothing short of amazing. Earlier in the day I'd asked her if she'd be awake and she assured me that she'd be fine. She was more concerned with me as the driver. I, who ordinarily go to bed hours after she does. As well, I had been suspicious that she wanted to go back to her room that evening - had invited her to dinner but she wanted to relax at her place. Fine, I thought, but I could imagine her room, cozily overheated with Jess's heater that we had lent her, her feet tucked under a blanket, all alone and quiet with the paper and a cup of tea and felt that the chances of her making it out awake were slim. I was right, as was Arnie (her husband who had cast his doubts by phone earlier that day) and Boaz (her friend who's here right now and since he doesn't read my blog may never find out that she didn't go - I told her to fool him and gave her all the info it the next day) and Ira, who also had doubted her ability to make it past 9:00pm.

Lisa Smith called. I told her we were down one, by our leader, the DRB, and she laughed but told me that she was still on. We agreed to a 10:40 pickup on the corner of Naftali and Yehuda and she hung up to go dig up her gotkes/long undies to wear for the occasion. Ira decided to go. We bundled up and left the house, not before I ran back in to get a hat, which was a good thing to do. After picking up Lisa, we headed for Eyn Karem. Our directions - it's been a while since I've been there and it's dark and all that - were a typically Israeli affair. Make a left at the monster slide (in Kiryat Ha'yovel), head to the gas station and make a right and then an immediate left onto a road that looks like nothing and head down the mountain until you reach the village. We arrived, parked the car and walked over to St John the Baptist. It's so lovely and old - you walk through a gate into a center courtyard, clearly built that way for security purposes of another time and it was quiet - no sense of xmas. We walked the stairs up to the church and I noticed my first sign of xmas, a wreathy bit of spangly stuff over the main doorway. Upon entering the church, there they were, 2 modest xmas trees all lit up and twinkling brightly. We took seats in one of the few remaining pews towards the back of the sanctuary, huddling close together for warmth in the space. I smiled at a few familiar faces - Jess's friend Daniel Schwartz, a favorite of Gabe's for his ability to play initial baseball, Tania with her non-Jewish boyfriend, James, both Brits, and a few other familiar looking faces, probably, as Ellen Shaw puts it, Jewish face #303 and #904. The crowd looks almost entirely Jewish. I can't see who's sitting up front but the chatter is a mix of languages and most do not seem to be members of the Church.

It's a lovely space with a pleasantly old and somewhat rundown feel and the traditional church architectural style. Sitting in the pews, it's easy to imagine being in Kane St and we discuss how Akiva would like it. Here's some historical info about the church,

"The Church of St. John the Baptist was rebuilt by the Crusaders, but after they left the Holy Land the sanctuary was either destroyed or fell into complete disrepair. A few centuries later, the Franciscan Order purchased the site and work began on its reconstruction. Most of the church was restored in 1674 with the aid of the Spanish royal family (their coat-of-arms is located above the entrance inside the sanctuary). Many of the paintings are originals, drawn by Spanish artists and donated by Spanish kings. Diverse blue-and-white tiles considered to be Spanish in style line the enormous square pillars and cover parts of the walls. Further work on the church was carried out in the nineteenth century, again with Spanish assistance. This included a new marble altar for the grotto, donated by Queen Isabella II of Spain."

We sat and chatted until about 11:45pm when the choir started singing. We looked up into the choir loft and I caught a hint of a nun passing through but ultimately we couldn't see the singers. DRB had said that it was to be an Israeli choir but they worked the traditional songs nicely, including one or two selections in Latin. I was reminded of how Ira's mother, Pearl, loved xmas carols. She grew up singing them in NYC public schools and she loved on xmas eve, to put on WPIX with the yule log program (Remember that? A constantly running loop of carols with the image of a burning yule log on your tv screen? For some years, it disappeared but was brought back by public outcry), and iron shirts, a specialty service of hers that has gone the way of most specialty services. At about 12:00am exactly, in paraded a group of worshippers, singing along with the choristers - a few nuns with candles, some younger looking men - perhaps priests in training, and then a 3 very fancily dressed priests in white and gold, the last one holding a fancy pillow upon which a very small baby doll rested.

They ascended to the altar area and began the service. The main priest, Father Fergus, began with welcoming remarks. He welcomed all of us, saying that each year he is overwhelmed and pleased by the numbers of Israelis who come to see the service. He commented that the rituals are not "yours" the service is not one that "you can understand," that "you sit quietly and respectfully," this is no small feat on the part of Israelis, "that he speaks to other colleagues about this every year, that basically, it amazes and pleases him. Ira and Lisa and I looked at each other and smiled when he was finished. It was just so lovely and so warm and so ecumenical. He told us that now he was about to do some things in Italian but that he would tell us when to get up and when to sit down. With that, he told us to rise and start the service. We stood quietly for a while and after a bit of back and forth of ritual activities, we sat down again for his homily, his xmas speech to us. DRB later commented that she's sure that he chose to do this early on in the service before to many of us left (people did leave quietly at different points during the beginning of the service) and I think that could make sense because his sermon was so geared to the crowd - he opened with a scientific discussion of the big bang theory which was so cool for a priest, I thought, and then discussed the fact that not everything can be explained by the big bang theory (remeniscent of all those who heard Ira's d'var torah of last year about the same topic), he went on to discuss the xmas story and then finished with some words of peace (never a bad idea in this part of the world). When he was done, I looked at my companions and said, "that was great, I don't need to hear anymore." It should be added that we were all a bit snoozy by that point - combination of the hour, sometime near 1:00am and the cold which makes you huddle and sit stiffly and is tiring as well.

We exited the church, heading back out into the cold night, the lights of the mountaintops of the Jerusalem hills winking in the distance. We couldn't get how welcoming the priest was. He wasn't proslytizing, he was encouraging us to feel comfortable in his church, to share his enjoyment of the holiday and its meaning BUT on a level that was comfortable for us. That is, we could watch from close, respectfully, and appreciate that we were all there to enjoy things that are meaningful to him on xmas - rebirth, peace, spirtuality and a real belief in ecumenicsm among peoples of all religions and beliefs. And you know, it really worked. I didn't want to convert, I didn't want to start celebrating xmas but I was glad that I taken the time to remember that this was a day celebrated by many all over the world and that what has always made J'lem a special place is it's importance to people of all religions. That's a good thing and it's too often forgotten in the more fundamentalist Jerusalem of today.

I'm a girl that grew up with a father who was a Rabbi on Long Island, NY, a bastion of Christian as well as conservative sensibilities and values. My father took part in inter-faith groups in the area, maintaining good relationships with local clergypeople in his area. I will never forget the Passover seder that we hosted a priest and a nun. It was grand fun and I couldn't believe that they both could read Hebrew! Who'd've thunk it. When I returned to my modern Orthodox day school and reported to my school mates and teacher about it, I was greeted with a certain amount of incredulousness and concern over whether or not I had let them pour/touch the wine at the seder. Most expressed interest but there were those few who didn't and I remember wondering why they didn't see how great it was to share customs, learn about what other's do and all that jazz. I was only in 7th grade but I never forgot the experience.

Being here during Dec was interesting. There was NO feeling of xmas, none, and this the country where Jesus is said to have been born. Truly, I wasn't disturbed by it, Israel is a Jewish country and the focus was on Hannukah and even that was a soft focus. The best part was the lack of commercial push during the weeks building up to Hannukah. We really didn't think of it at all. I would imagine that for those celebrating xmas here - and I did like the article in the paper which let Christians in the area know that free xmas trees were available for pickup courtesy of the municipality and that there would be free bus service to Bethlehem on xmas eve and day - that it's probably both frustrating and heartening to have their xmas uninterrupted by commercial exhortations to spend their money and focus on everything that the holiday is not about. As an American, I guess I missed some of the hullaballoo, the lights and action, the sense of bonhommie on the street so missing from daily NYC life. In the end, I'm glad that I chose to mark xmas, or at least investigate xmas, at the source, in a local church that made me feel very good about my choice to attend their celebration.

For anyone interested, I include an exerpt below from an article that the Jerusalem Post printed last week with a quote by Father Fergus about midnight mass at his church. DRB told me that she saw 2 interesting op eds about why Jews should go to midnight mass and why they shouldn't , but I scoured JPost.com and haaretz.com and couldn't find them on either site. I told DRB all about mass the next day when we went to an excellent exhibit at the Israel Museum that was the perfect counterpoint to the previous night's excitement. It was called Bread: Daily and Divine, and it discussed at great length, bread - the importance of it and it's use it rituals all over the world. There was a great video at one point of bread and wine rituals in the Christian world - DRB was disappointed that we hadn't stayed to see how they did communion in this church - she and I both liked the Orthodox church methods, which meant spooning out a serving of wine and bread (pretty graphic really, when you think of it) into the mouths of the waiting supplicant. But it reminded me of the previous night and the good feeling that I had when I left the service.

From an article in the Jerusalem Post from last week, preceeding xmas.
"But in smaller parishes, quieter ceremonies occur on Christmas Eve. Franciscan Father Fergus Clarke is guardian of St. John in the Mountains Church, built at the traditional site of John the Baptist's birth, and on Christmas commemorates the Magnificat - the Virgin Mary's extended quote in Luke 1.
"Since we're a very small community," he says, "it's extraordinary that on Christmas Eve our church is full of mostly Jewish people. For example, last year I counted only eight Christians present. Since the church is very small, holding about 110 people seated, when I say it was 'full,' I mean standing room only.
"These Jewish people arrive as early as 11:15 for midnight mass. What is really so edifying is that the Jews, predominately young, stand in complete reverence and silence for almost an hour and half. If you compare it to other churches you wouldn't see such reverence and patience.
"Remember, the mass is celebrated in a foreign language for them, since we celebrate in Italian. The whole ritual is foreign to them, apart from the homily, which is given in English.
"But they come from as far away as Tel Aviv, and many call in advance to be sure they'll be here on time. They come because of some sense of mystery or awe of the divine that comes from the ritual, the music, their memories - transmitted from their parents, perhaps. For us it's a very uplifting ceremony because of their presence and attitude."
Fergus says the Israeli presence contributes to the "peace on earth, goodwill toward men" that Luke says the angels proclaimed at Jesus's birth.
"This year we are having an Israeli choir sing at midnight mass, and two years ago we had a Southern Baptist from Alabama sing a solo," he said."

Beth Steinberg, reporting from J'lem.

Nor'easter

It's a Nor'easter today. We woke up to swirling winds (remember Ira talked about those summer winds? Well picture them in winter form) and banging shutters, and the squealing sounds of a real winter storm. It had started to storm last night, somewhat putting a damper on my Kiki sale (I had a designer from Tel Aviv, who did Jess's wedding outfit, come in with her stuff to my house, people come to shop....I got great clothes, everyone goes home happy, much more fun than Tupperware), raining cats and dogs, thank goodness as everyone was really worried about drought this season, with temps dropping fast.

This morning, I almost expected to see the snow banked up on the windows. I could picture myself laying in my bed (now living in Phila) at 409 Pacific, looking out at the snow all worked up the screens of the windows, listening to the wind howl and watching the TV newscasters talk about the big blizzard. I even had Ira look outside as they have been forecasting snow here for today sometime and wondering if it had started. Snow forecasts here are somewhat riotous as like all weather forecasts they are laconic in the extreme but snow is a big deal so they get a bit excited and people go shopping because if 1cm of snow falls they may run out of eggs and milk and they forget that the snow lasts for about an hour if you're lucky. Driving goes to pot in the snow as well, nobody knows how to drive anyway, let alone in the slippery stuff.

Today it's cold, real cold, like 32 degree cold or something like that. It suggests that it will be -2c in the paper and that's really impressive sounding here, even though I know that it's in the high 20's but again in this land of no winter coats and boots, it's meaningful. When the hail started falling this morning (after having rained and thundered all night), I decided to be nice and take the boys to their respective programs. I popped by Debra Blank's place to return her cellphone - simple methodolgy, yelling to her thru the window since the door was locked. Mission accomplished, shlep thru traffic to Dave the haircutter - I miss Maggie but Dave is a Red Sox fan and I love listening to his "Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd" Boston accent. It's getting colder over the morning as I drive about town. We were all late this morning digging out our jackets, sweaters and warm shoes and such. Natan off with his big fuzzy fleece and Gabe wore his winter coat. Even though I have a meeting this morning and should dress to impress (this turns out not be true), I'm wearing jeans and boots and a nice sweater with my shell and a vest and I feel so impossibly American and apres ski that it's kind of a hoot but familiarly pleasant. Ira crawled back into bed this morning, deciding that Ulpan would both be cold and would take to long to get to - by bus would be a shlep and by foot would be a wet, rainy mess.

Home to eat some breakfast and arrange my papers. We're - myself, Jess and 2 others (Jen and Hadass) are off to meet with Jacob Nir-David about our business idea. Jacob is a venture capitalist and we're curious to bounce our business plan off of him and see how he'll react, let alone be interested in its viability. For those curious, let's say it's an internet based venture, targeting the Eng speaking world here - tourist and permanent resident. I step into the jalopy and it's gotten colder. We pick up Jen and head for the Malcha train station where Hadass is waiting for us (she trained it from TA for fear that the bus would be too bogged down because of rain). A quick, restorative cafe hafuch at Aroma in Malcha Mall right next door - we talk strategy and decide that we're naive and inexperienced but not stupid. We find Jacob's office and head in. I'm immediately struck by how nice it is, albeit overheated.

We talk, present our idea to Jacob and an associate who sticks his head in the door and joins the meeting. All goes well. We spend a long time there. On the way out brief chat with a friend of Jess's back in Israel after a long stint making money in the US. He's also interested in our idea.

We split up at this point, back out in the rain and wet and colder feeling day. A bit of sleet in the air. Jess and I head over to my mother and father's. My mom is desperate for new pants and we bring by the Lands End catalog because she's not an online kind of gal. After a lesson on faxing and printing, we head back to the house, with Aidan (Jess's younger stepdaughter) and after a pickup, Amira (stepdaughter #1) and a friend. By now, it's starting to snow and the girls are absolutely wild with excitement discussing all sorts of plans for the evening and next day, as if we're facing a blizzard with snow days to follow. We stop to pick up something for Amira and Aidan runs out of the car into the thick flakes, with her tongue sticking out, giggling happily. Ah, snow. I drop Jess and co off at her house. Things are cancelling right and left - Natan's music lesson, his rehearsal may be moved because usual location in a school is closed. Natan is still at school and it's dark now and cold and nasty. He calls me and tells me finally, that he's on his way home and with a friend, Natan Brodie, who's stuck in J'lem because he can no longer get home to Efrat. I put soup up for dinner and get started thinking of how else to feed hungry people. Gabe is over at Jess's and comes home all wet and snowy from a snowball fight of sorts with Aidan. The boys come in, wet and happy and I tell NatanS that rehearsal is officially cancelled - he is apopleptic with excitement. They snack and warm up on tea and crackers and spreads. The snow is admired on the mirpeset/porch. DVD's are examined for nightime watching and now everyone is upstairs jamming on the guitars and piano. How lovely.

Happy trails (and that's another matter as it's snowing up north on Mt Hermon and that means skiing! We hope for next week) from snowy J'lem.

Small Country

So, now I live near my mother and father. This is a wonderful thing. It's been great to talk to them daily, sometimes twice, to be reprimanded if I don't call every day or so (in a friendly way), to have my mother want to chat with me on chemo Sundays (my specialty), because, as she says, she's catching up on 13 years that we were apart. My father likes seeing the boys and talking to the big boys especially about all sorts of things of interest - from baseball to what their learning, if they admit to that. Both parents absolutely kvell when they hear any one of us speak hebrew. If Ira even opens his mouth to say something, and it can be a very simple something, they beam - as does sister Sarah and sisterinlaw Barbara. Ira finds this rather annoying of course - it's not as if he couldn't speak at all but still the pride is rather humorous to say the least.

The day we arrived, we walked up the stairs to our apartment, somewhat shellshocked and met the neighbors. My mother made the following pronouncement and I must add here that although her hebrew is not bad at all, her accent is appalling, "Heym olim chadashim, heym lo mi'dab'rim milah achat b'eev'reet" - "they're new immigrants, they don't speak one word of hebrew." This is/was patently absurd but we swallowed our guff and smiled gamely. Meanwhile, two of the neighbors tend to speak to us in Eng but their Eng is excellent and the rest, we manage just fine in Hebrew. Sigh.

Meanwhile, the other day, my phone rings. It's Friday afternoon, the day one's phone rings the most, at a time that one wishes it wouldn't, sometime in the hour or so before Shabbat. I answer.
"Is this Beth?" a voice asks, in badly accented English.
"Yes, who's this?" I answer in hebrew.
"This is _____(don't remember name), you mother gave me your number."
"My mother?" I say incredulously, knowing I have a mother but amazed at how things work here.
"Yes, your mother, Dorothy Steinberg?" answers functionary.

Suffice to say, it was an agent from the Jerusalem Post, calling to offer me a good deal for daily delivery of the paper - he didn't seem to mind that I already receive Ha'aretz/Herald Tribune daily, and generally, those who read Ha'aretz don't read the Post, altho the Post does have its virtues - better US sports reports, weekend reprints from the Times, overall a bit more to read, poorly written but Ha'aretz is poorly translated, and the most right wing views in town. The phoner goes on to inform me that he has a special deal and that both my mother and I will receive a special gift if I subscribe. He won't tell me what the gift is - darn. I tell him that I'm mildly tempted because I find Ha'aretz a bore for all sorts of reasons even tho I'm addicted to the Times crossword in HTribune and Gabe would love the Post sports and wouldn't it be nice to read the week in review in paper, as opposed to online form, once a week, but I decline. Functionary is distraught - I buy the Post once a week on Friday, don't I know that it wouldn't cost me that much more for weekly deliv and the for the first 4 mos it's only....

Truth is, we need to get a hebrew paper in daily and that's a real quandry. Which one?
I could get the Post anyway, though, because after all, Mom recommended it and she gave them my number. Small country.

Food Report

Since we know that my blog is just a thinly veiled excuse to discuss my food discoveries in a new country, I'd like to tell you of today's fun. We set out to sister Sarah's house today. The plan was to visit with our cousins at her house. They live in Haifa and would come about an hours journey to Sarah's house and we'd all meet up there. Leah is our cousin on my father's side of the family and she has 2 grown children, Sima, who lives in Haifa and Arye, who lives on Kibbutz Gezer which is down the hill from Jerusalem. We arrived late - it was the third day in a row that I was setting out on a driving adventure out of J'lem and the thrill was no longer there. We got up slowly - Akiva slept late, which was lovely and left the house at about 9:50, arriving at about 10:40. My parents were there, as well as Sarah and her youngest, Noam (Benjy and Elisheva both in the army, Elisheva went in last Thursday, and Michael working), and Leah with Sima and her husband, Yoki and their daughter Nomi. Aryeh popped in with his wife Irit which was really nice as we don't see them too often - just don't know them that well, they're a bit older than me and we haven't spent that much time together.

We talked, drank tea/coffee, ate some cake and other nibbles and covered the basics from Naomi's upcoming bat mitzvah in Haifa in Feb to how we're all doing to how Leah's health is and so forth. Then we covered humous in Acco - they feel they know the best place and said that we should come and check it out. Ira and I are planning a little trip on our own sometime in the next few months and since there is no snow in the "alp'im," we're thinking of staying in country and doing some hiking and eating humous and finding interesting "tzimmerim/b&b's" to stay in.

We left, all children in tow (Gabe had spent the night and petitioned for another night but was defeated) and headed on home. Inspiration hit that there was good sahleb on the way home that brother Jonathan had often spoken of. We called him and he told us where to generally look for the sahleb. He said, "look for a sign on the side of the road and then keep your eye out for a white van, sometimes he's there and sometimes not, you have to be lucky." We headed down the road and decided to stop at a different van that we had seen on the side of the road advertising "bourekas turki." Now, for those who don't know, bourekas turki are very special, oversized bourekas, sort of loopy in size and filled with all standard types of fillings. Ira went over to the van, practicing whatever he felt he needed to try out in order to make the order. Now picture that this van is a small, rundown sort of vehicle, on the side of a dusty road that is between Rosh Ha'ayin and Shoham (where Ariel Blumenthal lives). This road has some quarries on one side and for many years after Sarah and Michael first moved to their town, it was literally a back road that one would drive on the way to their house from J'lem, passing quarries, big trucks with big loads and these roadside vans selling lunch to the truckers. It's not the kind of place that one will find what Ira found, a proprieter who spoke perfect English to him. Turns out that he's always liked the Eng language, specifically American style and has studied Eng for a long time and looks for opportunities to speak and here was Ira, happy to speak to him. Anyway, he served up the boureka - potato filled, crusty, cut into pieces and with a blob of hot sauce on the side, a few olives and a hard boiled egg on top, liberally sprinkled with salt and pepper. It was delish and much more digestible than most bourekas which are quite frankly too greasy and too heavy and definitely not as fresh. A tall glass of homemade lemonade to chase it, and for after, we all tasted malabi, which is a relative to sahleb but firmed up into pudding form and served with the usual chaser of sugar syrup poured on top and chopped nuts and something wildly fuschia colored on top. Fun for all.

We continued our drive home and actually noted Jonathan's sahleb van but decided that we'd leave that for the next time. And that's the food report for the day. About to eat a much simpler dinner of salad greens and some toast with avocado. Happy 7th day of Hannukah.

Panhandlers and Holy Men

There we were waiting at a red light, right off the Ayalon (the highway on the way to Tel Aviv) on D. Hashalom, when shock of shocks, someone started washing my windshield. I almost kissed the guy, who was young, perhaps in his teens, and really looked quite harmless even though I was ready to deck him after getting over my shock and delight at the experience. I resumed my usual NY expression of ennui and after he finished, shrugged my shoulders as Jess rolled the window down and said, "You didn't even ask if we wanted our window done."

Ah, the joys of city life. Acutally, the other day in Jerusalem on our way somewhere, we were down near Tzomet Pat, there was a panhandler looking for a handout. Religous Jew, handing out some sort of information, literature, hoping for a little tzedakah in return. That the difference between Tel Aviv and J'lem in a nutshell. In TA today, and I was only there for a short stint - quick park, short walk on upper Dizengoff, buy sandwich which took forever but was good, back in car, drive to Park Yarkon, find Gabe's baseball game, watch end of baseball game (Gabe hit a grounder for the final out), drive Gabe to sister Sarah's house in traffic, drive in traffic home to J'lem - but I saw and actual panhandler. This guy was authentic in a grubby outfit, walking in a manner that suggested physical handicap and looking for change.

As usual, the weather was positively balmy today in Tel Aviv and it was nice to take our jackets off and bask in the tropical air - at least for an hour or two in the middle of the afternoon. The Park was great, sort of Central Park for Tel Aviv and really reminded me of what's seriously missing in J'lem, green space for all. Here were baseball and soccer fields, hoops, bikers, boaters and scullers on the Yarkon River, kids riding Segways! (we said we had to return to do that) and the smell of green grass and fun. The panhandlers were nowhere in sight.

Xmasanukkah

Decorations on Yaffo (main drag in town), the mall has hanging dreydels, menorot everywhere and I mean everywhere - whether they're Chabad supported or the municipality, which loves to spend money on menorot when they could spend money on finishing up the damned light rail project for the city of Jerusalem, they are everywhere.

Natan and I had about an hour together yesterday in the evening. We were coming from the Hannukah party at Akiva's school, which was, how can I say, disabled. Picture a pleasant auditorium filled with, for the most part, older retarded people all very excited about the party. Many came in with older, tired and grey looking parents - I pointed out one such pair to my mother, saying, see that mother with her son? That's me in another 20 years. My mother loves when I say such thing, I truthfully find it comforting in an odd way. Anyway, excited student body, Akiva, somewhat confused as to why he's in the school building at 4:30, who are all these people (until he sees 2 staffers and practically leaps into their arms - Sivan and Victoria, who are equally excited to see him) and seemingly confused (we people who live with disabled people are somewhat disabled too) adults setting up the menorah for lighting, the big kids who are supposed to help light, the mike (which never works at all the entire time and generally reverbs in a style remeniscent of The Who), and one guy who's playing Hannukah music on the accordion. Did that sound busy enough in a confused manner? Meanwhile, we have Grandma and Grandpa in tow and Aunt Jessica who are enjoying the pre-game show but G&G who are hungry and already discussing dinner - where should it be, which "khick" (meaning milchik/dairy or fleishig/meat - which is really all about dessert as you can't have ice cream after meat but during hannukah all you see are an endless parade of sufganiyot) they should eat, and kvetching that the show hasn't started yet and what's with the reverb of the mike and can't they turn it off? Eventually, things started and it was lovely, kids singing, kids playing on the electric piano, sort of, and kids yelling and making retarded noises - I felt right at home. There was a sound and light show of sorts that went on too long for the ordinary types, let alone the spec'l needs crowd and we eventually left in a hurry as G&G had had enough and nobody really wanted sufganiyot.
We split up - Ira and Akiva going off with G&G and Jess (who needed to drive my parents car once so that my father would approve her driving for tonight's trip out to my brother's for latkes, finally, and family, food of course, and fun). Ira would like me to add that what really happened is that when G&G got antsy, it was decided that he and Akiva would go home with them and with Jessica, instead of taking a cab home as we had originally decided. He also says that he had no problem with this plan, kvetchy in-laws notwithstanding, but felt that had we (Jess and I) warned him of this change, he would have been happy, instead he was lambasted for being confused and not going along with the plan. Gabe was off playing baseball in a special baseball tournament (they smashed their opponents), so it was just me and Natan. Thank goodness. Ira had to get some work done (after putting Akiva to bed) so that he and Gabe and Natan could stay up late and watch 24, their new obsession. Take deep breaths but it really wasn't so bad.

So there we were in the mall, with all of the other happy Hannukah frolicers. It was a madhouse. Sufganiyot piled high on tables, toys and games to buy on other tables, a group performing at one end of the mall - cute boy singing, wearing what looked like, to Natan and me, a Parks Dept T-shirt and jeans, surrounded by cute girls wearing short skirts (of course) and tanks, dancing in that post-Flashdance style that has permanently affected all teenage girls - animals to pet on the other end (in the mall? but what do I know, I hear that at the Mall of America there's a University and who knows what else) and various special games set up so that children can bother their parents to use their hard earned money to play.

Best moment was still to come. By this point, we had found a reasonably quiet spot on the 3rd floor and were enjoying a meal at Aroma - Iraq sandwich and choco for Natan and salad with rouquefort for me, although I assure you that anything that shreds as neatly as what was decorating my salad cannot possibly be roquefort but it was edible. Besides, I had espresso with which to wash it down. We hear singing and look to see 2 young religous guys who are lighting a Hannukah menorah in a nearby store and are lustily singing Maoz Tzur. Two minutes later, the same scene is being reenacted next door. By the time we finished and moved on to the arts and paper goods store to buy binders and "nylonim", we ourselves were treated to what was becoming a yawn. In they'd run, setting their candles up on the fly, singing, looking around to guage their crowd (ours was an eyebrow raised, "I'm looking at my oil paints and you're in my way, crowd"), and if it was good, sing a few Hannukah songs after the standard candle blessings. I tried to imagine how many times these guys would inflict their holiday bonhomie on the mall crowd that night - 25? 50? more? Natan and I paid and with relief left the mall, found the car and I took him to his rehearsal, sitting and chatting with his director, listening to him sing his ballad with his love interest, while he blushed and grinned a bit.
Happy to all.

Hannukah Vacation

We went to the big mall tonight for about 90 shock inducing minutes. Crazy filled with people, kids on vacation and can stay up late tonight, religious and non-religious, Arabs and Jews, all there for some shopping, some chow (kosher food court, dairy on one side, meat on the other), maybe a movie and if you're young, to hang with your buddies. The scene was loud and frenetic and the decorations were all for Hannukah - large hanging dreydels and suchlike themes.

Friday morning, Ira and I made the shocking realization that we had done nothing for Hannukah except buy some candles. I confess that I had thought about Hannukah in an offhand way but I guess without all that Xmas reminding, I hadn't considered the whole present purchase thing.
Friday morning dawned at the early hour of 6:15 or so with getting Akiva off to school. That was followed by house tidy and prep for cleaning by a lovely Argentinian student who comes 2x a month. We stripped beds, started laundry and in between, did some cooking. Had done most of the cooking Thursday night but with Shabbat starting at 3:57pm, one has to make sure that as much is done early in the day as possible because it's just too stressful otherwise. I digress, big surprise.

Anway, I headed to the pool for my usual battle with all of the old people who don't understand lap swimming etiquette and arrived, horrors, in the middle of the water exercise class. This meant the lanes were even more crowded than usual. I got in and persevered. It's all about the jacuzzi anyway, the best thing about swimming at Ramat Rahel. Finished up, listened to the chitchat of the ladies next to me as I dressed - she's remarrying, someone non-jewish, I think, and will be getting married in Cyprus as she can't do it here in Israel.

Returned home, picked up Ira, picked up Debra Reed Blank, visiting here for a few weeks (teaching and such), and headed for the shuk. Did the usual, ate breakfast at favorite cafe (all out of brioche, DRB made do with croissant which she pronounced as good as Paris) after a bit of a wait for a table, a few pickups - recently discovered, courtesy of Alan Salzberg, incredible pastry with a sort of liquid chocolate interior or halva interior - and headed for shops in town. Managed a quick frenzied shop with all the other people thinking about simple stuff for gifts. Soccer shirt for Gabe, funny hat for Natan, some other clothing items, music and books for Akiva.

Sufganiyot/jelly donuts everywhere. New flavors this year - dulce de leche, chocolate cream and other interesting taste sensations to tempt those tastebuds jaded by basic jelly. People bellying up everywhere to buy them - large and pillowy with powdered sugar on top, hopefully filled with a good few bites of sweet filling. Both Ha'aretz and Jerusalem Post had articles recently rating local bakeries, Ha'aretz covering Tel Aviv and JPost handling the local bakeries. Intrepid reporters ate many donuts, ingesting goodness knows how many calories. It turns out that Akiva has a liking for sufganiyot, not seeming to care how high brow the flavor is. On Thursday night, we went to horseback riding and were told that there were sufganiyot to eat afterwards. I offered the treat to Akiva and Adina (with whom we go to riding) and Adina wasn't interested but Akiva sat right down and said, "sufganiyot, ok...sit on bench." He picked it up and took a bit bite through the center - meaning, powdered sugar on the nose, jelly coming out the sides - and proceeded to eat the whole thing. Today at lunch - he did it again.

Debra enjoyed watching the action of the city. It was high noon in the center of town, on the first day of Hannukah break (if you're lucky enough not to have school or work on Fridays). The sugar shock alone was enough to set everybody on a high for the day. I also introduced Debra to my favorite shuk person, the toothless man who sells pickled and preserved things. He knows me by now - I often stop to pick up his preserved lemons or pickled Persian garlic, as well as hilbeh (fenugreek sauce) and this week he has spicy carrots and eggplan with tahina (just made yesterday, he assures me). If only he made jams and jellies and pickled cukes, he'd be just like the toothless man in Becket, Ma, who ran off this year and was no longer pickling and making jams, when we stopped by this past summer. This guy is small and cute, though, always offering tastes and smiles along with his products, only available on Thurs and Fridays.

We finished up and headed back home. Did the last minute Shabbat prep and run for the finish line. Took Akiva and Natan and went to Shira Hadasha to meet up with Simkha Weintraub, next Bklyn visitor in line. Dinner with Simkha and some others, Akiva practically apopleptic at sitting next to Simkha, whom he as spoken about weekly, every Shabbat for the past 4 mos. Lovely to see Simkha and hear about his trip and work on developing Jewish chaplaincy work and the nature of Jewish spritual healing, mind and body, here in Israel. For those interested, I made couscous for the first time - you know, the couscous and then the broth and the veggies on the side. Excellent veg recipe and I honored the flesh eaters with some fish as well. Finished with a really good semolina cake - stayed in the middle eastern theme.

Today, usual synagogue split. Ira went with Daniel and Jess to Ma'yanot and the boys and I went to Moreshet Avraham. Had lunch plans with Rena Magun and David Ebstein (he once tried out for Kane St and was in Debra's, Josh Gutoff's and Debbie Cantor's graduating class at Reb school). Debra met up with Ira and then walked with him and Jess and Daniel to Rena and David's. Good meal, nice conversation - we all know each other a long time (Ramah, sister Sarah, yadda yadda), and it felt good to be with longtime friends. Headed home late, replete, tired and woozy but it was a good day. Cold tonight, supposed to be under 40. I actually put on my light, down jacket and it felt good but didn't need anything that serious during the day when the sun was out.

Hannukah festivities all week. Will report later in the week.
Hannukhah Sameach.

Meeting

Went to Tel Aviv again this week. I really can't describe how I feel when I go to Tel Aviv. Yes, there are palm trees, yes, it's somewhat reminsicent of Los Angeles, yes, it's got trees and cafes on the tree lined median of Rothschild, but it's looks overwhelmingly like a real city. We drove in - Jess, Jen (friend and now, business associate - more on that later), and I, in my parents lovely jalopy that we're driving and as we approached the city, I felt that excitement of being there. It's really a great place and all those people who've naysayed Tel Aviv in the past - me being among them - I recommend rediscovering it on your next trip.

Ira and I were discussing this week that we are definitely edgier in our discourse then many that we meet here. We speak more quickly, talk more sharply and feel, how can I put it, just snappier than many of the Jerusalemites that we meet. Will we lose this sharpness, we wonder with a feeling of panic? Will we lose that essential New Yorkerness? It's a disturbing notion.

We were on our way to a meeting. A business meeting. I haven't had a business meeting in a billion years. That's not quite true but I'm not the conventional meeting type. And, this wasn't a conventional meeting. We went to Hadass's house (Jess's friend, who's a PR person and a writer). Hadass lives, with her husband, Dan, in an apartment building that looks initially like a dump but which they renovated before they got married, sometime over the last year. They live, right near the heart of the action on Shenkin, and they represent that other demographic - secular, left, city types, living and working in Tel Aviv - that other part of the country from Jerusalme. The four of us, met to discuss a project that Jessica and I hatched and are in the process of writing a business plan for. We talked about the plan and how to finetune it, and make it more professional over tea, excellent cake (this country is teeming with good baked goods but this was actually a cut above the ordinary) and fruit. I'm excited about this and looking forward to a project that could be successful, will keep me out of trouble and might even generate some income over the long term.

At 12:00pm, we decided that we needed a quick shopping trip as part of our research. Jen, never gets to TA, having recently had her third child, and we zipped over to a part of town to check out one store that Jess and Hadass like. Thirty minutes later brought success to some of our party - I window shopped. We hopped back in the car and returned back up to our hill hear in Jerusalem. But oh, the big city. We may get back there this week with the kids during the Hannukah break.

Napa-Sonoma

Had a trip to the wine country last week. Friends visiting from the old country. What to do? Let's drive into the Jerusalem hills, drink some wine, see some nof/scenery, and hopefully find some good food. We drove down the mountain towards Beit Shemesh - due west and slightly south. We headed first for the Ella Valley winery, one of the top boutique wineries in Israel. We arrived and noted a business meeting happening at a table - wine and business, what could be bad? The winery really had a California feel. Tables with large cafe umbrellas, terracotta tile and wood, and these big bird cage/houses. A cockatoo flying around named "Gever" or Guy, and 2 Toucans, and another birdhouse with little birds flying around chirpily.

The CEO of the winery took us around. We saw a little film with bucolic scenes of grapes growing, being picked, crushed and made into, you guessed it, wine! The winery prides itself on the fact that they grow all of their own grapes, pick them at night and also, hand pick them. They produce 200,000 bottles a year, which is not alot. We walked by the rooms where the grapes are pressed and the first stages of winemaking take place. Then, the best part, the tasting. We were good, we did spit a bit but mostly we tasted - a simple everyday red that not all liked (it was young and a bit raw but not undrinkable), a good Merlot, an excellent Cab select. We all bought a few bottles for the collection and considered our building hunger. The winery intends on opening a cafe with bread and cheese but alas, not yet. Where else to eat? Ah ha - I remembered passing a mean roadside stand as we turned towards the kibbutz where the winery is located. I asked the CEO for any recommendations. He had none. Depressing. Not even a local humous stand. I voted for the mean roadside stand. We headed there.

It was, a find, in a sense. The menu wasn't quite clear but there was a sign on the side of the road. Shakshuka, tuna, omelet sandwich, nocknickiya/hot dog or sausage , sh'nitzel. The proprieter, working out of a bus that was painted decoratively and permanently parked on a dusty shoulder of the road, was somewhat surprised to see 6 adults and 2 children descend on him. we ordered shakshuka (remember that this is the spicy eggs with sauce) sandwiches, omelet sandwiches and plated shakshuka. He commenced filling orders. It took forever. There was no hurrying the artist at work. I had opted for a 1/2 sandwich, assuming that more food opportunities might come my way later that day (not really but hey, worth a shot). Who knew I'd eat it long before Ira and Lisa would even get their shakshuka b'tza'la'chat - on the plate? The kids had omelets. The fixings were good, ranging from a creamy cabbage to a pickled cabbage to pickles to humous and fries all mixed into the eggy, saucy mixture on a crusty but unfortunately, too fluffy white bread roll. Sometime later, we finished. By the end of the experience, Lisa was standing in the kitchen (such as it was), holding the plates while our friend spooned in the salads and sides to the shakshuka.

We continued to our next winery, at Kibbutz Tzora. We checked out their wines, they also had nice cheeses and cookies and other gourmet jams and spreads and things of that variety. They also grow their own grapes and produce some whites along with the requisite reds. Their wines weren't bad, we bought a variety of a riesling that was good but Ella Valley was better. Noah and Carolyn went off with Moses for some serious sight seeing and Alan left for Jerusalem and Fayanne, Lisa, Ira and I were on our own. We drove along and veered off the road when we saw a sign for winery. We poked along on a simple track and came up on a building with some trucks and other loading trucks. I headed out and looked inside. Bingo, tasting room. I got someone to open up and offer us some tastes. We had a few varieties - not great but not bad, especially the bottles from a few years ago that were not kosher. That is, in later years, they got Rabbinical Supervision but in their first years, they didn't have. They did have excellent olive oil - their own, which we bought, and Taibe beer which is also excellent beer from the territories (Jess knew the owner back in the '90's when she was reporting on business people doing exciting things in Gaza and thereabouts) which we also bought.

On the way home, we stopped for coffee which we all needed. Unfortunately, we had to head into a local strip mall (such a comedown after wine and scenery) for our coffee at Aroma. It felt alot like Starbucks but we drank and headed back home up the hill, sipping our coffee and listening to Fayanne snuffle in the back seat contentedly.

We headed for our next

Hotel Bar Mitzvah - Making Connections

Had a swanky hotel Bar M this past weekend. My good friend, Karyn and her husband Asher, hosted a good crowd of their friends and family to their 3rd kid's BM. 3rd kid, is the typical 3rd kid, rolls with the punches, talks back, cracks jokes, is a nudnik not that disimilar from my own loveable nudnik, Gabe, and up until 6 mos ago was the sole male child of the family (in April, after a 9 year hiatus from baby making, little Dan was born). Ira and I were invited, along with Gabe who is friendly with Gad, to come. Natan and Akiva spent Shabbat at sister Sarah's house, being fed and taken care of in Goldbergian style.

The hotel was in Herzilya, a well-heeled town on the beach, north of Tel Aviv. The hotel was on a strip with other hotels and beachy like surf shops and such enterprises. The average Herzilyite has the look of a Tel Avivite with that suburban air - well fed, well dresed and generally, with a good tan as well. Karyn and Asher chose the hotel because of its proximity to Asher's shul of his teen years. His family made Aliyah from Queens - ask Lisa Kleinman, she knew them - to Herzilya, which was probably a sleepy beach town in the early '70's when they arrived. His father was an engineer who did something interesting for the military - can't remember what, and they essentially built the shul in Herzilya. Asher's father died some time ago, yet he is still remembered fondly, along with his wife and 5 kids (only 1 currently doesn't live in Israel), by the synagogue community. Asher was pleased to have his son be called to his first Aliyah in the same place where he himself marked the same moment in his life. As well, the portion read this week, talked of the births of Jacob's sons, of which 2 of them are named Asher and Gad, which was a nice touch for the Bar Mitzvah family.

Essentially, the weekend consisted of prayer, food, speeches, some singing, more prayer, more food, a few walks on the beach between prayer and food. I'm not ordinarily a hotel cuisine type but the food wasn't bad at all. Decent salads, unabused vegetables, some mighty fine non-dairy desserts, in and of themselves a miracle, really, some hunks of meat that many enjoyed and I will say that I partook of a piece of lamb as that is my favorite, and a pleasant selection of wines and liquors that made the whole experience much more palatable for all. Gabe spent the weekend playing ping pong when he wasn't eating, praying, sleeping or playing cards.

For us, the weekend was an excellent social opportunity that we mined to its fullest capacity. Karyn and Asher live about a 10 min walk from us in central Talpiyot, the next neighborhood over (as Miryam W as she grew up in Talpiyot until she was 7 or 8). They daven at Beit Boyer, a local community center that is a 5 min walk from out place. Beit Boyer is a very standard ortho minyan - meaning, separate seating for men and woman with a reasonable height but not very attractive divider between, men are responsible for all syn duties of a ritual nature and the style of prayer is standard "Land of Israel." Given that the synagogue is in Talpiyot, it is host to a large amount of Eng speakers, Brits and Americans and a decent amount of French speakers. It boasts an MK - member of Knesset (Israel's parliament) as de facto Rabbi of the community, which means he makes ritual decisions and occasional announcements or talks. He actually seems like an ordinary guy, but hey, I'm not reading his tax returns. The BarM crowd was a Beit Boyer crowd - everyone was from our gen'l neighborhood and they either go to Beit Boyer on occasion or every week. Again, in J'lem, it is not unusual to meet a couple that splits up synagogue, it's normal. As well, given that it's J'lem and Israel, we sat down at dinner and within a short time I was greeted with a comment from the woman on Ira's left - "You look familiar, do we know each other?" We reviewed the basics, name, age, place of birth, college, workplace...bingo! Somehow I made the connection. We both worked at The Jewish Agency in NYC, in the old building on 60th and Park, in the late '80's. She moved to Israel, married, had kids, got more religious....blah, blah, blah. Then, I turn to my right side and realize I'm sitting next to Karyn's first cousin, who was in high school with brother Jonathan (they were good friends) and I haven't seen him in a billion years and he just got remarried - mazal tov to all and how's it going, I ask. We talk some more and then, someone, can't remember who, comes over to tell me that I've got to meet this couple that's at theBarM, they "know who you are..." It's a couple that we had emailed back and forth with from NYC. They know Karyn and Asher from Cambridge/Harvard Hillel days, and also know good friends of the Touger family (former Kane Streeters) in NJ and and old college buddy of Ira's (isn't this just a bore?) and we are very excited to meet them because....they have a 3 kids, one of whom, their youngest, a daughter, who is retarded, autistic and hearing impairmed. We bond - it's that retarded thing that does it every time. It's lovely to meet them and the wife is from Kentucky - who'd've thunk it? Our initial bonding moment over, we are greeted by an classmate of mine, Miriam Feldstein - we met in 2nd grade (when I met Karyn) and went to school together until 6th. Were we in HS too? Could be, can no longer remember. Her brother, Eric, went to Columbia with Ira, altho the only thing of worth that I remember of Eric is that went we were on the same school bus in JHS/HS, he "played" his books (like a drum) and did a great version of "Hawaii 5 O" - I can hear you all humming. Miriam and I stood and mused (we missed the soup course but I was already full from salad and fish) that at the weekend there was me, Karyn, Miriam and Abby Rick. We were all in the 2nd grade at H.A.N.C. - our school, in 1968 together. Pretty cool. Of course, Abby Rick's mother was the teacher but then they moved to Israel shortly after that year.

The Bar M itself was lovely the next morning. The weather was warm and lovely, it's always amazing how much warmer it is in the center of the country than in J'lem. It's been too warm lately, anyway, with no rain the past months and everyone is worrying about drought conditions for this winter. At least I don't get too depressed about no snow and no skiing, as I really haven't been cold yet. Of course, even if Ira and I wanted to ski in the Alps, we wouldn't be able to, as they're experiencing the warmest fall/winter in 1200 years, or something like that. No snow, no World Cup races.

The best "do I know you" moment was yet to come. Ira, who has been rediscovering old friends right and left recently (old girlfriend refound thru sister in law, Jo, on dress buying trip in Merrick - I'll let Ira tell), is standing at the salad table choosing from the dizzying selection at lunch. He's being introduced to a VERY tall woman, who's also choosing salads. "Marla, this is Ira...what's your last name?" "Skop," he says or I say. "Skop?" Marla says, musingly, "I once knew an Ira Skop in Queens. Ira and Charlie Skop." Ira, looks closely and says, "Marla? Marla Travis?" "Yes," Marla says. "Ohmigoodness!" exclaims Ira. They had last seen each other sometime in 1978, perhaps at a USY kinnus or shabbaton. She moved to Israel right after HS and they lost touch, and here she ends up at my friend Karyn's kid's BarM, AND, she lies around the corner from us. We're planning Shabbat lunch together. Ira had a pic that he searched around the house for after the weekend - Ira, my friend Beth Mann, Marla (looking tall and about 15 or so), and 2 other friends, at the Salute to Israel Parade, circa 1976.

Only in Israel.