Hurdles

Big hurdle forded yesterday. Ira and I successfully passed our driving tests. You may wonder? You had to take a driving test? Well, according to local lore, after the 'Russians came,' this to be compared with my Mother's line of after the 'Hungarians came,' (explain: post-world war II, the Hungarians who had survived in greater numbers, even though Hitler did his best to kill off as many as he could despite the fact that it was '44, arrived in NYC, they brought with them their more uptight version of kashrut and observance and according to my mother and grandmother z"l, that's when heckhshered cheese first showed up - in the '50's perhaps. Ask Danny Magill for more information.)

Anyway, when the Russians came enmasse, it became apparant that driving laws/testing was even more problematic there than here where driving is quite the sport - people are killed more on the roads than in wars - and they tightened the rules so that every new immigrant has to at least take a lesson and a test in order to be licensed. Use to be, you just brought your American license down and got switched. My parents were the last to be able to do that. In typical Israeli fashion, you have to go for a very intense eye test (no standing and reading the letters at the DMV) and then, of course, to the doctor (such a bore), and then, down to the DMV type of office for your forms to be stamped and such many times and they make note of where your license came from, etc...then, you get to take your lesson and test.

We had been given the name of this guy, David, who is clearly making a killing helping nervous immigrants go through this process. He picks up your papers, gets them to the appropriate offices and then, calls you to schedule your lesson/test, drives you back and forth to the testing area and generally, holds your hand (he patted my head but at least he's over 70) and tells you it will all be fine - this for 400nis or about $100, which is alot of money considering that a regular lesson is about nis100. But we went with it because of all the horror stories - like Alan Salzberg failing the first time. Also, we had waited until the umpteenth moment to do this. You have 3 years to do the test but if you don't pass by the end of the first year, you can't drive until you pass. Some disagree with this, some say you'll just get ticketed if you get caught but there it is.

It was Tisha ba'av/fast day for commemorating the destruction of the 2nd Temple a loooong time ago (you know Jews and their long memories). Light traffic. Auspicious day. I had my lesson at 7:50 with Bob Carroll (went to Brandeis, knows Simcha boy back when he was Fred), and it should be added that Ira and I were making our lives marginally more difficult by doing the test in stick. We both drive stick and in this country, typically, you have to pass the test for stick in order to drive both types. If you pass just automatic then you can't drive a stick. Rediculous I know. Actually, maybe it's not so rediuclous but it's amazing to think that they're so stringent but nobody drives well anyway. One theory we have is that they make you drive so slowly and carefully, that nobody is ever trained to deal with normal road conditions. Also, I think that they are patriarchal to the women and make them nervous so many of the bad driving one sees is by women and then men drive as if they own the road and EVERYONE tailgates which is a major cause of accidents.

We each had our lessons. I, of course, had to go inside btw lessons bec of babysitter handoff since Akiva wasn't in school yesterday, and have my stomach be so upset and nervous that I ate a cracker and drank water (so much for fasting but I'm not a great TB faster to begin with) before I went back into the car for the rest of Ira's lesson (of course the teacher said nothing to Ira about anything - at least not the way he lectured me about road rules and of course, Ira was cool as a cucumber).

The tester entered the car. Nice guy. Ira started and drove, and I kid you not, maybe 4 minutes before being asked to pull over to the right (I thought he had done something wrong but nooo....) and then, I went (I told Bob, our new bff, that I had to go next or die of nervousness) and I drive for perhaps 3 minutes, and finally, Bob, who took us back the driving test offices. And that was it. We passed. For this I had to eat my kishkes out? And what a scam really. Thank goodness I'm not like my niece Elisheva, who's failed 4x and has put so much money into her lessons that it's just absurd. She can drive but they keep failing her on odd technicalities and just to keep getting the money - you have to take 28 lessons just to take the test the first time if you're a new driver and then each time you fail, you have to take a few more and then if you fail a certain amount of times you're really screwed. Natan says he'll never do it.

On to the next adventure.
Natan has arrived back in country. Oh happy day.

Tis the Season

Quick trip to the 'yarkan'/veg and fruit guy on Friday. I should preface this that when we don't go to the shuk or to 'supersol deal' we do one of 2 things. We now order organic deliveries once a week - very nice but very small selection of fresh and dry goods. On Friday though, we stop in at the 'yarkan,' for salad makings, fruit, you know, shabbat stuff. Of course, the last week or two, I've been over buying as no Natan, and now no Gabe - got to learn how to downscale. Thank goodness Natan returns on Wed.

Our neighbor across the hall, actually is the proprietor with is brother, I believe, of the yarkan on Derekh Beit Lehem on the corner of Esther Ha'malka, but we really prefer to go to the yarkan across the street from him - also on DBL as well. He's a nice guy and it's a nice store and he always discounts me if he's there BUT they all smoke in the store, they wrap their veggies with saran in pkgs, which let's be honest is no way to buy your produce. They do have good arugula - almost always - and some nice homemade salads. The guy across the way, has more interesting berries and this week, pant, gasp, faint...LIMES.

I have waited a whole year for this moment. On Friday, as I browsed thinking of what else to buy to make sure that we wouldn't have to shop for a few days as life has been too busy (but that's another story), I saw a 'havila'/basket of green, round objects. I've been fooled by these before. They could be green lemons. I looked and sniffed - then, I asked...'ha'eem zeh limon...' I trailed off expected the answer, 'ken, limon,' and she looked and smiled and said, 'limes.' This was funny as it was immediately apparant that there's no real plural for limes in hebrew. Fine with me. I bought a whole basket and began considering my options - margaritas? mojitos? salsa? lime bars? I called Lisa Smith immediately and bought her 6, just as a taste. I came home and cut into the lime and it was a lime - I rubbed my nose in the lime, inhaled the smell and squeezed it on salad and in yogurt and on fruit but haven't done any drinking yet. Working up to it. Gili, the owner, said to expect them to be around for a while but I wasn't taking any chances and the cashier, his sister, approved. She said, people come in and say 'limes!' and then buy 3. What can you do with 3 she asked?' I agreed.

Let the party begin.

Wall of Sound

I went to Shira Hadasha on Fri night and Shabbat morning this week. Friday night was particularly special as Jess came, along with a visiting friend and sister-in-law, Miriam but for myself I was struck but how happy I felt to have her there and not be alone as I was on the Shabbatot that she was in the hospital and I came without here. She was greeted with many hugs and kisses and that was nice to see as well.

This morning, I went back for more. I went, despite the 600 people (according to Ilan the guard), despite the overwhelmingly American feel with all of the visiting groups and groupies, and despite the crowding - as a member, at least I can call some of the front seats my own when I come in, a real blessing during the tour group season. I returned, for what I like to call, the 'wall of sound,' of the tefila/prayer there.

We all struggle with tefila - the good days and the bad days. The days that we should have stayed in bed and the days where it all just feels right. The good days definitely outnumber the bad days at Shira Hadasha. This again despite the at times annoying nusach/prayer melodies, or the overly long and yuh buh buh'ying tendencies to the tunes, or the feeling that there are a bunch of Welsh men singing over on the men's side on their way home from the mines. Thing is, there is nothing like the sound of so many people singing out - singing out their stress, their weeks' fatigue, their Shabbat happiness, their pleasure in the experience of the evening.

It's what I like to call, to use a coinage from the Phil Spector era of musical arrangments, the 'wall of sound.' As if we've all been crowded into a small room (we are considering the numbers), with a planned reverb or however these things are really done for our listening enjoyment. Everyone sings, hums, vocalizes, harmonizes and somehow, magically it almost seems, it all words. Invevitably, I feel 'farklempt.' It's sort of like being at a show and feeling weepy when everyone claps at the end - it's the swelling of emotion, all those good feelings and bonhommie that almost brings me to my knees. Sometimes I think, I'm just a shameless wimp, trained like Pavlov's dog to cry at AT&T commercials and other times I allow myself the feeling of emotion, so strange it seems after years of 'dry davening moments.' Maybe they're on to something here, this post-modern version of hasidism, this joyful take on the mundane and commonplace, this happy desire to sing their hearts out week in and week out, even if they need to come up with some new melodies.

My mother and my brother may scoff at it (don't be offended when you read this, Mom). It's too long, they get hungry, why do all this singing anyway? If we went to the local shul, we'd be home already. All of this may be true but once you open yourself up to the experience, it's quite enticing and the next thing you know you're, heaven forfend, clapping your hands and swaying in the aisles. Can closing your eyes and dancing ecstatically be far behind? Beer does lead to heroin at Shira Hadasha.

Shavua tov.

Sick Bay

I've learned so much over the past year but in particular I've learned my way around the local hospitals. Most recently, Jess spent 2 1/2 weeks at 'Hotel Hadassah,' a lovely environment, replete with bad lighting, mediocre food (but a decent selection of food in the, yes, mall near the parking lot), and even worse accomodations (try 5 in a room, with the 5th kind of parked by the window). The care was good, actually decent nursing care and reasonably pleasant floor doctors, except for a few that were brusque and lacked bedside manner.

But by comparison, where Sarah had her heart surgery was downright luxurious - little vases with flowers on your breakfast tray, 2 in a room with pleasant looking sheets although no designer hospital gowns. Sarah went the 'private route' for her surgery, an increasingly popular method for people with good agreements with her 'kupat holim'/medical plan. She had to cover various aspects of the surgery, like the cost of the valve but not the surgical fee (go figure) and decided that she wanted a quieter environment and what was ultimately, excellent care post-surgically. Jess, already a patient of this well-regarded fertility specialist at Hadassah Ein Karem, a leader in such care, ended up there because she was having an unexpected complication and it wasn't an 'elective' situation like Sarah. Not that Sarah wanted to have a valve replacement and double bypass but she had a minute to decide on where and when - within a range of a few days.

Hadassah did have a less, 'fah'kneytched'/very religious feeling then Sha'arei Tzedek, where I've also spend lots of time this year with my Father (from his hospitalization to his chemo Sundays). Demographic at both hospitals is everyone - religious, secular, Arab, Jew but Sha'arei Tzedek has a decidedly 'haredi/ultra relig' feel because it's more centrally located to downtown. Both hospitals (HadassahEK and ST) have shuls with minyanim at all hours of the day, kosher food, Jews walking around giving out sandwiches to family members spending hours at the hospital or offering meals on Shabbat to all who need - separate seating only or course - and the requisite rabbinical types appearing with a few words to the ailing person and his/her family.

I decided though, that the hospital took on a particular air over Shabbat. For those who have read Harry Potter, I was reminded of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Friday night, while Jessica was being tortured by a variety of well-meaning doctors, I noted the presence of full families - all haredi - for Shabbat at the hospital. As this was a women's floor, there were many women on bedrest due to pregnancy complications. In Jessica's room, earlier in the week, there were the 2 haredi women who yelled across the room to each other in Yiddush much of the day and didn't deign to speak to anyone else. One of those women had an older daughter with her on a different day, with baby in tow, stroller, stuff - this in the 5'er room - for the whole day! Hospitals are not places for babies but it's just the way it's done here. There was the guy in his full Shabbat regalia - long coat, fancy hat, and such, singing down the hallway, as well as the young, not more than 10, year old girl, clearly left in the hospital overnight to keep her mother company and assist in whatever way she could. She mostly walked around goggle eyed, especially near Jess's room as she was the hot ticket with the most action on Fri night that week. She also always caught me on the telephone, as I was most of the weekend with nervous family members checking in, as if to make sure that I knew that she had seen me speaking on the telephone on Shabbat. There was the guy who showed up to make kiddush on Fri night, and havdalah on Saturday night - albeit it a bit late for the rest of us who had already decided that Shabbat (probably the longest one in my life) was over. It was truly a bizarre place.

Today we walked out of there - Jess, a newly freed woman - and it was a good feeling and I'd like to hope that this is a pause, a breather, from the hospital gigs of late. My Dad is holding his own for the moment - back on chemo but looks alright despite being easily fatigued - so, we attempt to go back to normal over here.

As Seen on Janglo

Can't tell if this is real or not. Could be real or could be making fun of the whole Janglo problem and Jerusalem - people with too much time on their hands and this sort of religious/frugal/let's just share all we have attitude. Normally these ads even have prices of a few shekels for this or that. I sound mean but it can be surprising. On the other hand, Janglo is where we've gone to find all sorts of things like the 5th season of 24 which we just went and drove to Ma'alei Adumim for. But I confess it was a lovely drive and we visited an interesting little health food store that I think you'll be hearing more about if you read The Honey. Read on...


I have the following items which i don't need:

1. 15" monitor: You can see something but it's not clear enough to use
for work. It can probably be fixed by a technician.

2. Plastic case for 3 x 5.25" floppies.

3. Stainless steel shoe horn

4. Dust covers for a keyboard. Other dust covers still in the bag. I
think they're for a computer, maybe screen as well.

5. Mini-LED torch, keyring size. Works but the plastic casing is ripped.

6. Cloth for cleaning galsses.

7. String that people attach to their glasses to hang them round their neck.

8. Men's watch. I can't remember if it works or not but the light
brown strap is in good condition.

9. Vanish stick. Pre-wash stain remover. Not much left.

10. Do people still use handkerchiefs? I have 7 or 8 (off-)white men's
handkerchiefs to give away.

11. Two self-adhesive suede heel grips.

Pick-up Rechavia-Katamon, preferably Friday morning.
E-mail for more info.

Foodie Adventure

Now I know what it means to 'have a press pass,' or feel like you do. For a future Honey, I wanted to interview Moshe Basson, the charismatic chef of the recently reopened Eucalyptus, in downtown Jerusalem. Basson, is the Steve Brill of Israel. If you don't Wildman Brill, he's the guy you'll notice foraging in Central and Prospect Parks, bringing home delicacies such as burdock root, ginko berries (yes, I did this once but only had to go outside 409 Pacific to forage), sarsparilla bark, dandelion greens, etc. Basson, who is also a member of Chefs for Peace and is part of group of local chefs starting up a Slow Food chapter here in Israel, is someone who lives and breathes ancient cuisine as well as the importance of knowing, eating and ensuring the sustainability of local, indigenous plants.

I called the restaurant and in typical fashion, when I listened to the machine, got both the new phone number and Basson's cellphone number - which I called. I told him that I was a writer for an internet based e-newsletter and I was curious to talk with him about reopening, his new menu, what he's been doing, etc. He invited me to come to the restaurant with a 'ben zug'/partner at 7:30. I informed Ira that we had a gig for some tastes of this and that, shouldn't take long - he had a gig with Len Wasserman and a friend for a beer night downtown.

We arrived. Empty restaurant. Smiling staff. Nice space on Horkonos in the Russian Compound area. We sit, then move as we're told we'll need a bigger table for all the plates. Moshe, introduces himself to us shortly after we arrive and proceeds to wine, dine and educate us over the next 3 hours of eating. I haven't spent this long at dinner since a meal many years ago with Ralph and Lisa at the De Puys Canal House, where we ate and ate and ate and then staggered back to the Thunderbolt (or something like that) Motel to sleep off the excess of delicious food. We started with a big fresh laffa style pita with some assorted salads. Essentially fresher, more sophisticated versions of the regular stuff. Next, a trio of soups - a fab lemony red lentil, tomato with min (refreshing and good) and Moshe's specialty grain, 'geresh ha'carmel' in soup form - a young spring wheat, served in the spring as well as the following year, once it's been dried (then it has a slightly smokey taste). We punctuated our eating with lengthy discussions of different herbs and grains and Ira and I sniffed and tasted and nibbled at the many things that Moshe showed us. Moshe was suitably impressed at our ability to recognize certain plants and recognized us for the foodies that we are. The meal continued with some different salads which we only nibbled at, knowing there was more ahead - particularly liked his take on taboule and this very creamy, whipped kind of potato salad. Everything is always beautifully seasoned with lots of fresh herbs.

When Moshe, or his talented sous chef, Sofyan, cook, people talk about food, it's culinary and emotional history as well as the political history of this part of the wold. Moshe has cooked with Jews and Arabs alike and feels that knives should be used for chopping, not killing. That might sound simplistic but for a guy of his background (Iraqi), it's revolutionary. He has friends on both sides of the fence and they are people who care about the land and its future and want to preserve the plants, grains and foods of the people of this part of the world - proper stewardship even in the face of war. Moshe said that he has contacts who show up at his kitchen bearing their unusual offerings - ancient grains and plants cultivated all over the country that Moshe enjoys using in his cuisine.

We kept eating through a lamb course - lamb and vegetables topped with a pastry, Moshe's signature dish of figs stuffed with chicken in a tamarind (tamar hindi) sauce and some beef with eggplant that was meltingly tender and lovely. We tasted his Magluba - a one-dish casserole, served with great fanfare, of chicken, vegetables and rice. Sephardic hamin/cholent, but thankfully not as abused as the Ashkenazic variety. Eventually, too stuffed to take another bite, we finished with a simple semolina cake with tahini and honey decoratively arranged on the plate and Moshe's homemade liquors. It was all wonderful, including the moment where Moshe went across the street to the parking lot to show me local caper berries and how they grow everywhere - I've since found them on my way to shul.

We took Barat Ellman and Jay Golan back there last week and they as well enjoyed a meal and the attendant food education. We didn't eat as much but we let Sofyan (who was behind the stove that night), choose the menu and set the pace until we told him we'd had it and then finished with a sahlab pudding which was great and a bit of liqueur.

He's only been reopened a couple of months but if you're going to be in town, make time for Moshe and tell him that Beth sent you.

Wings - We got wings

There are retarded people here in Israel. They're on the street, in the parks, out in groups, on their own. I see a guy regularly when I go to Shira Hadasha. He keeps, Ilan, the guard, company. There's a young woman who works at Aroma at the Hadar Mall and a few people at the local supermarket. Whether or not attitudes to the retarded here are perfect or not (as noted in an articles from today's Haaretz - read your link), at least people with disabilities are visible. I've mentioned this before but I guess I still find it amazing after the invisibility of life in NY for the special needs community.

As seen on The Honey (just scroll down that issue a bit), we noted a cultural offering last week at Ha'maabada/The Lab, a local performing arts joint - actually, really not a joint. A cool space, lovely for smaller venues and a nice bar/cafe right outside with beer on tap and of course, espresso. We went to see, Amutat Kna'fay'im/Wings, a theatrical performance by disabled adults about their lives and their work - in a spoon factory. I don't know what we were expecting, really, but despite some last minute excitment (Jessica needed to be stitched and glued in 2 fingers because she spaced out while cutting watermelon but it should be added that she had 1/2 of Danie's TRY students at a barbecue at home. Of course, Daniel couldn't leave because of the TRY students so Ira, who loves blood, had to take her to the local emergency clinic - he said he didn't look), we managed to get there - me, Lisa Smith and Ira (who was a bit late).

Full house, included 2 other families that we know locally with children with special needs and Akiva's principal from Feuerstein, who really looks like a smurf. Stage was set, lighting came on and we were absolutely held in thrall for the next hour or so. About 18 adults - some with physical disablities, some with emotional and all appeared to be developmentally delayed in one way or the other. They spoke, they danced, they talked of their lives - their wishes, hopes and dreams. The good thing was that it wasn't sweet - in some cases, especially the women, it was downright angry. Two women spoke of being treated poorly on the street by others, especially men, and one spoke of being taken advantage sexually by men in her neighborhood. Most of the women spoke wistfully of wanting to have homes, families and their was a poignant but well staged section of most of the women, veiled, dressed in elements of bridal finery, pretending to be brides.

Everyone expressed some kind of thought, feeling or opinion - some actors were harder to understand than others but they all had something to say and it was cool to watch the actors work together, encourage each other and clearly show how they knew what they were doing. It was a well-rehearsed and well thought out piece and we were all impressed and excited with the evening.

We clapped and cheered and the actors bowed and smiled and cheered for themselves. The performance was free, which surprised us as we all thought it was good theater, better than alot of 'paid' theater that we've seen - it was not about "let's go see the retarded people and clap for them."

Natan's Big Adventure

I dropped Natan and Ira off downtown yesterday morning at about 8:30am. I was on my way to Rosh Ha'ayin for a day with Sarah and they were off to find the 'lishkat gee'yoos' or local draft office. They found it and Ira abandoned Natan, our firstborn, to his biggest adventure yet here - the start of his potential initiation into the army. Don't get too worried yet. They have to meet him, talk to him, decide his status physically and such. As well, nothing happens until after he graduates high school and is 18 and even then, there are all sorts of ways that kids defer and do volunteer work for a year or sometimes are offered opps to study in college as a pre-army function and then they go in when they are older. (We've studied the colored brochure and have determined such as this. We've also asked around and spoken to cousins and other kids who've just finished in order to understand some of the process.)

Natan should tell the story but I will relate some of his adventures. First he tried to figure out what the first soldier, who was a mumbler (never good when you're not fluent in the mumbled language) was saying. Eventually, the guy yelled at him that he should enter the first door on the left. Natan did so. He sat down upon seeing other guys and girls around. Then he figured out that he needed to show his teudat zehut (id card) to get the process moving. He did so and received the all important swipe card for the day. He swiped his way through the next few stations - the first interview station (a bit of social history). What does this mean 'you were homeschooled?' This took some time and bureaucratic confusion as Israel is a place that loves certificates and ratings. Natan eventually offered that he'd taken the SAT last year before we left - they liked this and we will send the scores although I'd rather he would have offered to take a GED and send them the scores since all they seemed to care about was something that would suggest that he can finish HS since he can't do a full set of bagruyot (the sort of matric exams that you do here at the end of high school - he's doing some but too hard to do all given language and newness). She tested out his hebrew which Natan said was relatively successful until they got to the dictation section.

Next, the physical exams. Height, weight - all that jazz. When Natan was explained the day by various cousins and extended cousins (Daniel's sisters kids), everyone quickly says, 'and then, you have to drop your pants for the doctor.' As promised, he survived the experience. There was some discussion about his eyesight but we don't really understand it all - just that he has some sort of rating because of his correction (can't be a pilot - oh well).

After that, some sort of test administered on the computer. Sort of a logic and spatial thinking test. Thankfully, one could choose which language to take it in. He took it in Eng and said that the first half was unpleasant but the second was better. He thinks that the Hebrew lang takers had a longer test.

Finally (I think this was the final thing), the big army interview. Natan said this was quite thorough. Your background, family life, sibs and such (Akiva and responsibilities to him - how do you feel about that?), school again (or lack thereof). Army 'what would you do in the army?' Natan, 'I don't really know as I don't know enough about what I can do. I would like to be able to use my English skills as they are good and I like computers and I like to sing (there is an army choir of course).' 'Do you want combat?' Natan, good boy, answered, 'no.' 'If you got combat, how would you feel?' Natan, 'I would make the best of it because it's 3 years and might as well make it work but would prefer not.' Army, 'overal any problems?' Natan, 'when my parents decided to move, I knew it would mean the army an didn't know how I felt about it. I wish that Israel didn't have to have an army but as it does, I am prepared to give service to the country - leet'rom shey'rut la'medinah.'

Here's the kicker. He did it all in Hebrew except for the doctor who spoke to him in Eng and Natan decided that if that's what he wanted...
Natan was supposed to have a soldier who's attached to his school (this, painstakingly arranged by his cousin, Leut. Dena, recently out of the army but this was her job in the army) accompany him and help him thru the day, especially language-wise but he didn't show and as Natan said, 'I would have called Yuval if I really needed him.'

I think that I'm most pleased about that. He was able to understand and be understood and advocate himself and answer pleasantly and honestly how he felt and hopefully they saw him for who he is - a good and responsible lad, who's unsure about the whole thing but reasonably open and positive. And don't think that's so unusual. Many kids feel unsure about the whole thing, even if they've grown up here. Natan was lucky that on Shabbat afternoon, he got some good advice from Eliav and Adin Laufer (Daniel's nephews), about how to handle the day. 'Be positive,' they said, 'don't give one word answers,' and 'tell them a bit about yourself, so they see you're normal, that's what they're looking to see.'

In the end, we don't know Natan's number - meaning, what his physical profile is which does affect where he might end up. Not sure if he was told it and missed it or if he'll find that out later. I guess we'll have to ask around.

That the whole thing is wierd and disturbing is a separate matter. That it might make sense to do something in your life between high achool and college is a good idea, I think. That it needs to be something like this? A different problem entirely. That the world is crazy, that the politics here are lunatic, that Gaza is imploding and nothing else seems that great - all true. Do I want my kid out in that mess? Not particularly. Don't want my kid to be fodder for the next incompetent war that the gov't decides to wage as they did last summer. Don't want my kid to be lost to a kidnapping in Lebanon or Gaza. That's a pain that I can't imagine.

I definitely have a more cynical attitude to the whole army thing then my father that is, but you can't deny the fact that these overgrown children are sacrificing alot in order to do this and that is something to think about. Will try not to think about it too much over the next year or so.

Hello out there

I know it's been ages since I've blogged ...
Lunch today was an 'Ashkenazic picnic,' or as Iris and Steve Katzner would put it, 'Jewish camping'. That is, first we decided to have a picnic. It was Jessica's idea and it was in order to remove the onus of more cooking and preparing after having just cooked and prepared for Shavuot. I agreed with alacrity. We'd all show up with some salads and stuff in tow and there we'd have it a meal. Ten minutes later, Jess called back. It will be too hot to picnic - the hunt for a suitably shady spot that wasn't too far a walking distance for all included - Jess and Daniel, Miriam and Peretz and kids (Daniel's sister and family), Elise Bernhardt (visiting dignitary from Bklyn) and Lisa and Alan and small children. We discuss various places to picnic and I suggest 'picnicking' on our mirpeset/porch, which is generally shady in the afternoon. This idea is immediately seized upon as the perfect idea. Noa, Miriam and Peretz's youngest, decides to actually have a picnic with friends on real grass and doesn't join us and the rest come to eat on plastic by us. Too many desserts but altogether a good meal.

Daniel told a good story today. He just finished the month or 'shloshim' - the 30 days of initial morning after the death of his father, Leo. He's been looking kind of 'bivak'sin,' or unkempt, that is, in need of a haircut and beard trim. He read that while he's allowed to get a cut after shloshim, he should wait until someone tells him that he should get a cut. He bumps into his regular haircutter in the neighborhood and proceeds to tell him this story. Eitan, the haircutter, said, "Daniel, you must get a haircut immediately." Daniel, wanting to make sure he hasn't too overstretched his bounds, responds that he really has to mean it. Eitan answers, "And I've made you an appointment for tomorrow at 8:30am." Daniel thanks Eitan and arrives the following day for his much anticipated haircut. Eitan cuts his hair and when Daniel goes to pay him, refuses him and said, "I invited you...we're a nation of customs." This from the secular hairdresser. One of those Israeli moments.

Watched Gabe play baseball on his team on Friday. Drove a bunch of boys out to Givat Zeev, a bit outside Jerusalem, sat in the blazing sun for 2, almost 3 hours, reading, watching, commenting (I did take on break to walk into town and get a cold drink and find a place to go the bathroom) and enjoying the chitchat in Hebrew and English between the boys as they alternately supported and occasionally berated each other, in good humored fashion, throughout the afternoon.

Lag Ba'omer Prep

Urchins walking through the neighborhood, pushing grocery wagons laden with debris, bits of wood probably illegally purveyed. Heard in the elevator of Super Sol Deal today - "Yeah, the kids take the wagons and turn them over and use it for mangal/barbecue." Kids arriving in the Super Sol to buy potatoes (traditionally roasted and eaten) and marshmallows (later addition) and whatever else they need for making a bonfire, staying up all night (you need blankets and sleeping bags) and not going hungry of course.

On Yom Ha'atzmaut, the country smells of mangal, on Lag Ba'omer, of smoke. Natan, much to his surprise, has been invited to a bonfire locally, with his group of lady friends (there are guys too). One girl asked him if he knew any hot guys and could he bring some along? Natan invited his friend, Natan from school but unclear if he's coming. Gabe will hang with cousin Noam and we'll check out some of the local action together and Elisheva, who's off for the evening will come to hang out and eat ice cream.

I'll give the full report when everyone wakes up on Sunday, which is of course a day off from school, except for Akiva.

Acid Rain

It's not acid rain but it's dirty rain. First, the weather gets heavy feeling. Sort of humid but not quite because there's this dryness to the air, an intense heaviness mixed with a sense of dirt particles floating in front of you. The sky is grey with a hint of yellow. You drink and drink and drink and your eyes are dry and your nose is dry and your skin feels papery dry. It's May, so you're not expecting rain but then it comes, 3 minutes or in my case, on the way down the hill from Jerusalem, it pours for about 5-7 minutes, big raindrops, that leave the windowshields and the car and my nice, clean laundry drying out on the mirpeset, sort of spotted with brown dirt.

Then it dries up in a minute, the earth takes a quick drink, and all returns to normal dry state - except you need to go to the car wash.

First Funeral

Daniel's father, Leo, died on Monday night, erev Yom Ha'atzmaut. He died after a grueling illness. Essentially 12 years lost to a combination of Alzheimer's and a Parkinson's like combination. He was a survivor of the Holocaust, who fortunately was able to get out of Czechoslovakia and escape through Europe and eventually reach the US with his mother and sister. They were eventually reunited with his father. He spoke eight languages but spoke virtually nothing for the last two years. He was an academician, a Zionist and a liberal and believer in Israel, peace and the Jewish people. He raised four nice children but was denied a decent retirement (let alone a pleasant aging) with his wife of 55 years, Rita.

Rita, by the way, is one of Akiva's favorite people. They've bonded over Curious George, The Little Red Lighthouse and Shabbat dinners at Jessica and Daniel's. He went right over to her (he knows a Grandma when he sees one), sat on her lap and they became friends.

This was our first funeral in Israel. A few surprises. It's informal, of course. No suits, no black dresses, not alot of ceremony. It was held in the Sephardic hall as the family was told that they would be more comfortable with men and women standing (no seats except for a few around the side) together and with women speaking or even worse, gasp, helping to carry the body at the end.

Ah, the body. Wrapped in a tallit, lying on a stretcher of sorts. NO CASKET. Sort of drives home the fact that it is a body that is being buried. He looked so small and indeed he was never a big person while living (I only interacted with Leo Laufer when Jess and Daniel got married but he wasn't able to respond) but in death, he seemed even smaller.

People spoke. We stood. More people spoke. We stood some more. It was good even though it was sad. Daniel and his brother, Michael, spoke of a man that I don't know, even his grandchildren barely know (except for the oldest two who are 23 and 21 respectively) and most assembled knew through his family - through stories and memories. I was reminded of the children's book, written by Mem Fox with wonderful illstrations by Julie Vivas called, Wilfred Gordon Mcdonald Partridge which is a great book that tells of the friendship between the aforementioned WGMP and his neighbors at the Old Folks Home next to his house. He's friends with a few of the residents and in particular likes Miss Nancy because she has four names, just like him (I can't remember the names though). Miss Nancy is spoken about sadly because she has "lost her memories." WGMP collects some of his favorite things and brings them to Miss Nancy and she looks at them and remembers things from her childhood and is happy because WGMP helped her "find her memories."

Burial was down the hill. Won't discuss all the particulars except that there was a 21 gun salute of a sorts as nearby there were people doing some target practice for "mishmar ezrachi/civilian patrol."

It was a good funeral.

Yom this and Yom that

It's been busy. Yom Ha'shoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. Yom Ha'zi'karon - Memorial Day. Yom Ha'atzmaut - Independance Day. As I write this, the music playing somewhere live in the neighborhood is filtering in - Yom Ha'atzmaut, Moroccan style with oud music and trilling vocals and that particular kind of male tenor that you always here in Middle Eastern music of this variety. Ira and the big boys just left for town - there are live concerts, folk dancing, and fun of all sorts to be seen and had and they decided to check out the fun. I'm home with Akiva.

It's basically one 'tekes'/ceremony after another for about a week and a half. There are the official State ones, school ones, neighborhood ones and tonight, a program at Shira Hadasha. Minha services at 6:15, followed by a Yom Ha'zi'karon service - it was lovely. Poems and readings with musical accompaniment and most grueling, people stood and remembered names of people they knew (family and friend and extended) who had been killed in wars or terrorist activities and when they died. It was quite poignant to have people stand and remember a friend or cousin who was killed in '67 and '73 and even one woman who remembered a brother killed in '48. I thought about my friend Tzippi, who's fiance was killed in '82 in Lebanon, and Michael Levin, killed this past summer in Lebanon. Levin, was a Ramah Poconos boy, a friend of my nephew Benjy. He was featured in a DVD made by another Ramahnik, Sally Mitlas, and the DVD was shown on Israeli TV tonight. Levin was what's called a lone soldier as his parents and sibs are back in America and he was here on his own as a citizen and soldier. His mother, in Israel for the ceremony at Har Herzl - the military cemetary in J'lem, said that when they came in for his funeral last summer, they expected a small group, as they don't have alot of family here and when they pulled up at the cemetary they saw many people and wondered if there were alot of burials that day. All those people were there for Michael. They didn't know him but they wanted to pay their respects to this guy, here alone, without his family, giving everything to the country - his life.

What's interesting is that at the end of the service, we morphed into Yom Ha'atzmaut and did a festive Ma'ariv service, complete with Hallel and song and happiness and it felt good. It felt really good. I sang and was happy.
Chag Sameach.

Food of the Week

It's been an interesting food week.
Following our truffle adventures - we had truffle omeltets and truffle toasts (first you clean them, peel them and slice thinly) and we enjoyed the notion of eating the truffles but they weren't the all encompassing experience that we had hoped for.
Last Tuesday, I had a meeting - yes me, a meeting - with Jess and Hadass (Honey partner in Tel Aviv) at the port in Tel Aviv, or in hebrew, the 'Namal.' Very cool area. Wooden boardwalk, laid out in curves, with inset sand circle, waves splashing over the side, cafes with pillowed chaises and chairs to while a way some time, nursing a drink. A cross between South St Seaport, but better, and Hudson River Park. Hadass claims that it's ok during the week but that on weekends, when the Israeli equivalent to the 'Bridge and Tunnel' crowd shows up, the 'khu'bat'im' (from Holon and Bat Yam) that it's no fun.

Jess was writing about the company, Comme Il Faut, owned by a woman, run by women, with a feminist drive and direction to the company. The have a space down at the Namal, called 'Bayit Ba'namal,' and it comprises stores, spa (no guys allowed) and cafe with an array of nice looking dishes, that thank goodness don't have the usual look of Israeli menus, at least not what's here in J'lem.
We sat, at a lovely wooden table, umbrella gently shading us from the Tel Aviv haze, and I ate the loveliest salad - it wasn't enouph for the price and the enjoyment factor but that's a separate matter. It was buckwheat (not my mother's buckwheat, otherwise known as kasha and not even served with bowties or browned onions) but a paler and larger, grained variety. It was perfectly cooked and served with wilted greens of some sort (that I have yet to find in this country - meaning interesting greens to cook with other than 'alei selek' which translates to beet greens, but which look alot like swiss chard but don't taste like chard) and a lovely array of wild mushrooms, simply seared and served on top of the grains, with a dollop of sour cream on the side. I pooh poohed the sour cream but it was a nice counterpoint to the salad, although not completely necessary. We finished the meal with an iced cappucino/caffe hafuch, really nicely done and creamy and almost like iced coffee as I know it.

I decided to recreate this meal with some additions for Friday night. We had visitors coming; Jeremy Slawin, 17 year old son of good frinds in Houston, Tx. Jeremy was coming on "March of the Living," and spending Shabbat with us. We also had a family of 6 coming as well - David and Robyn (both in Israel for many years) and their 4 kids (the 2 oldest are 17 year old twins and Natan is marginally friendly with them). Miryam W visiting with us, came with me to the shuk on Wednesday and we got some of the critical ingredients and I did a look-see of what I could get in order to make a reasonable do of the dish. After breakfast at my favorite cafe - she had brioche and I had a sandwich - we both had some excellent coffee - we took a walk around checking out the mushroom situation. I found buckwheat and here's what I learned (this, after I came home and read up on buckwheat). I learned that there's buckwheat and there's kasha. Kasha, is that brown stuff, essentially very toasted and slightly processed in terms of size of grain, buckwheat. Buckwheat, is lighter in color and larger in grain and the color of pearled barley. It cooks up fluffier and while retaining some of the earthiness of it's brother, kasha, has a lighter taste. I bought the light stuff on a hunch that it might be more of what I wanted. I hit real pay dirt with the mushrooms. We walked around and then stopped at a guy in the covered shuk, who was selling truffles and other interesting fungi. He had portobellos (we bought some of those), fresh oyster mushrooms (large and gorgeous, we bought those too) and fresh porcini mushrooms. I'd never eaten fresh porcini and they were a revelation - beautifully tinged with coral pink and quite lovely in size and shape. Quite different from their dried cousins. It was VERY expensive for one little package, but you only live once. The proprietor and I had a long chat about how to cook the 'shrooms, what order to cook them and what to add to them. He suggested lemon grass. I said how, I'd never seen any in Israel. He motioned me over to his fridge where he pulled out some lemon grass. I almost kissed him. Then, he suggested fresh garlic to chop on top. I hear you thinking to yourself, "well, garlic, that's nothing special." But, here in Israel, it's fresh garlic season. Meaning, fresh garlic, hard and juicy and garlicky and not dried and old. Fresh garlic everywhere and hanging and drying in the shuk on braided greens, perfuming the air with it's pungent aroma. I bought some. I already had some at home but didn't want to disappoint him. I also inquired after baby spinach and he again motioned to his fridge. I bought a nice pkge of greens. It wasn't baby spinach as I know it but it was better than the spinach that I tried to make wilted spinach salad with last week. I finished up my shopping trip with some other goodies - some excellent olives, fresh almonds (sort of like fiddlehead greens with a fuzzy exterior), a nice piece of cheese and came home pumped about my recipe.

Thursday we all cooked a bit. Assembled the buckwheat, made roasted sweet potatoes to satisfy those who might be scared off by buckwheat, cooked a white bean and tomato gratin that's really easy and tasty too and Natan made what turned out to be an excellent rice pudding cake. Essentially, arborio rice (what you use to make risotto), cooked with milk and combined with some sweetener, eggs, dried fruit and toasted nuts and baked into a lovely and light cake of a sorts. Ira and I and Natan (Gabe was playing baseball), sat down and ate some beans at about 10 and enjoyed the good smells coming out of the kitchen.

Friday, another trip to the shuk. Alan Salzberg called, "would we go out for breakfast?" He agreed to a shuk bkfast - Ira and Alan had a laffa feta (rolled toasted laffa sandwich with feta, olives, onions and tomatoes, Miryam had a brioche and I had a yoghurt with granola and fruit. Needless to say, we all had coffee. After bkfst, Alan gave us an hour. Picked up fresh salmon - this to satisfy all carnivores and besides, I thought that the salmon would complement the buckwheat, some herbs and teas - found a great herb guy who has his own real, powdered sahlab (orchid root). Next time. Bought greens, breads and some cookies and fruit. Stopped by the cheese guy and got goat sour cream (quite nice) and fresh farmer cheese (Ira says too sweet but I like it) and garlic butter (well, it looked so lovely and Gabe has been lapping it up) and a nice bottle of wine - look for red wines by Yatir Winery, quite good. We had drunk a bottle of Yatir on Wed night, when Miryam treated us to a fabbo dinner at "Tzachko" which is a great restaurant in the Iraqi section of the shuk and just happens to be owned by the same guy who runs the cafe that I love and who just happens to be the head of the shuk. You may not have known that the shuk has a director - 'yoshev rosh' but it does.

Went home and did final prep work. Poached the salmon in a light court bouillion (sp?), did a careful mushroom saute and in a sep pan, greens saute. Then, went to the pool and had a good swim and came home and went to shul at Shira Hadasha for some long-winded singing.

Great dinner. Good company. Great food.

Passover Report

Was planning on cranking about politics, my increasing unhappiness with everything that goes on in this country, from the settlers moving into a building in Hebron, to the disturbing story of a baby who didn't make it past a checkpoint to the hospital without wheezing to death while waiting for his paperwork to be checked, from Katzav receiving a new rape indictment, to the 3 soldiers still missing and not yet returned to their families, to my feeling that peace is so insurmountable, what am I doing here? But, I digress from my real annoyances of the day.

Cleaning, shopping and cooking. Where's all that extra time I anticpated from less yomtov and more hol hamoed? Swallowed up by entertaining - Wed night and Thurs night of last week, preparing for Shabbat with requisite honored guest of my cousin, Barbara, from the US, to more cooking on Saturday night because yomtov was approaching again, to cleaning today because more guests are coming - niece Helaina and an ever-changing cast of her friends, although I turned her down on 2 more friends at the last minute because I just couldn't face the laundry after they leave but did offer to feed them but them seem to have gone elsewhere, and cousin Rachel Brodie with husband, Adam Weisberg and 2 girls but they'll be with friends tomorrow so main cooking is for tonight but stillllll.....that meant food - yes, I'm sure you all want to know. Truth is I cooked with what I had on hand last night and this morning, although Ira did make a run to the shuk to replenish empty stores - no one should go hungry and is at the makolet/bodega right now getting eggs and milk and whatever else we still forgot.

Cooked with celery, carrots, fennel, onions/garlic, potatoes, sweet pots and turnips. First a nice soup, then sauteed veggies with quinoa, fresh salmon casserole with veggies and pear/apple crisp for dessert. That does not include cookies from the freezer that I saved for 2nd yomtov and the stuffed veggies that we'll do now - little dumpling zucchini's and peppers with quinoa and RICE (yes, we're offering rice to those infidels that will eat it on Pesach). Ira picked up, big excitement, negev truffles at the shuk - 150nis a kilo and he bought a quarter of a kilo and tomorrow will make truffle matza brie or truffle omelets or truffle something - must check the recent article in Ha'aretz about truffle ideas and preparation for local truffles. Who'd thunk it? And, hey, more affordable than in America where I've never bought them.

I'm not complaining enouph. I sound like I'm enjoying it. Well, it is Gabe's b-day but he's gone. Fourteen years old. Not even a Bar Mitzvah boy anymore. He went to Aunt Sarah for yomtov - for the purpose of playing basketball with Noam. That's good.

Hag Sameach.

Pesach Oddities Noticed

Seen on Janglo, the local listserv which has answers on anything from selling new furniture, finding where to buy this and that to...

"ADVICE: where you can get kitniyot free mayonnaise answers

i was asked to post answers so here they are...
cheaperkol on kanfei nesharim
shefa shuk in the rav shefa mall in romema
shaarei ezra on rechov bar ilan
assorted makolets in bayit vegan
and someone said emek refaim but did not say what store so i am
assuming super hamoshava."

I am so grateful to this person, who clearly has too much time on their hand, like many jangloites for solving this important problem.

Actually, the kitniyot issue - this is related to the age old question of Passover? Where are your parents from and their families and did they eat legumes and rice on Passover? If you were lucky, your parents weren't from Eastern Europe (everyone's were of course, at least that I knew) and we all didn't eat kitniyot on Passover, meaning no rice, no beans, no humous, and in later more stringent years, no peanut, soy or corn oil, let alone anything that had any suspect ingredient realated to the list. Funny thing, kitniyot do not qualify as hametz/leavened foods, merely as kitniyot and moreover, while you shouldn't prepare them for someone who doesn't eat them, if you cook rice for yourself if it's your tradition, you do not 'treyf' up your pots and can still prepare non-rice and bean dishes for others who don't eat rice and beans and such.

Still, shopping here is an adventure in avoiding kitniyot or allowing them in small ways - soy oil, margarine with soy oil, or prepared mustard (made from the mustard seed which is considered kitnioyot), or milkys (choco pudding with whipped cream) which have something probably a questionable starch used as thickening. At a certain point, you feel like throwing up your hands - I called my friend Karyn frequently, checking in on various things. Karyn made sure that I had made haircut appointments for everyone well in advance of the last week (pre-sefirah rush), had washed my car before the final rush, and had advised me about the best oven cleaner (St Moritz but I couldn't find it), and that soy oil was considered ok, when I called in confusion from the grocery store.

"ADVICE: Kosher for Pesach Fish Food
My local pet store has some Kosher for Pesach fish food called Blood
Worms. But the ingredient list includes yeast and starch, which is of
unknown origin.

Rabbi Blumenkranz's book says it is OK to give the fish matzo meal for
a week.

Does anyone have any experience with feeding the fish matzo meal, or
does anyone know what kind of starches are in this food?

Thanks for your help. Gerti"

This defies comprehension, right? Can you imagine the digestive systmem of some poor, unsuspecting goldfish during his autopsy after Passover? Poor guy, died of acute piscatory failure, or better put, constipation or explosion due to complications thereof. I realize, that you're not supposed to have anything in your house that could be considered edible from a hametz perspective, and that includes the dried up pretzel bits and such in the car or inside the sofa, but have you ever really wanted to eat fishfood? Have you ever sprinkled fish food into the tank and thought about how you want to just take a nip of it - just to see. I mean, dog food I could see - as I fed Harry dog (the Shelanski doggy) his milk bone biscuit, I thought, hey, what's this like (not really but I could picture this more than fish food), and let's not forget the famous Honeymooner's episode of Norton and Ralph trying to market dog food, which Ralph finds delicious - and even feeds it unsuspectingly to the head bus guy (I can't remember why this happens, do fill me in if you remember), but at least dog food is a meat product with cereal and is food like and probably would keep you going if you needed to depend on it. Enough said.

Tonight, seder with Jess/Daniel and the girls, Sarah and Michael and their 3 and a friend of Benjy's, Miriam and Peretz (Daniel's sis and bro-in-law) and their 3, friends of theirs (3?), our niece, Helaina and 2 friends and I think that's it. Food will be extensive and will pay respect to all family traditions. We've made pickled veggies, roasted sweets and whites, and quinoa salad for tomorrow's lunch at Miriam's house (barbecue, I'm told). It's wierd not to be hosting and running around but certainly more relaxing than years of the past where we made 2 and thought nothing of it. We won't be drinking slivovitz though - haven't found any. Shocking, really, but bought a new bottle of Arak.

Thinking of all of you and wishing a wonderful Pesach - lots of crumbs and lots of fun.

Behind on Blogging

Way behind on blogging and now I find that I seem to be missing a draft that I was working on. Sigh. I was writing about the concert that I went to last week. Chava Alberstein, patron saint of folk singing here in Israel. Prolific, talented, musical, gifted with a lovely voice and pleasant concert personality. The concert was in Tel Aviv - got lost finding the restaurant for dinner with Brother Jon and Barbara and friend of hers. Found parking and restaurant and quickly ordered and ate. Turkish food. Good stuff, fairly meaty in orientation but well executed meat stew with okra, pargiot stuffed with nuts (pargiot are sort of chicken filets made from dark meat), rice pilaf and outrageously over-roasted eggplant drowning in a sea of cream tahini. Needed turkish coffee afterwards but no time. Rushed to theater in Yaffo (why we couldn't eat in Yaffo? Jonathan hates Dr Shakshuka which I love - oh well), to the Noga Theater, home of the Russian, Gesher Theater Company. Packed house. Older, ahem, demographic for the most part. Israelis like to sing along with their performers and they sang alright, whenever they could, although Chava wasn't singing the old favorites, but newer songs from her more recent releases, and the occasional Yiddush number - Alberstein was born in Europe and emigrated to Israel in the post war period, see http://www.aviv2.com/chava/ and she feels great connection to the immigrant experience. Those of you who have some familiarity with Israeli music, will know her as the voice of the song "Lu Yehi"/Let it Be, from the Yom Kippur War in 1973.

After the concert, we all wandered around Yaffo for a while, hoping that a coffee shop would appear with a nice table for all of us out front (Sister Sarah and Michael were with us as well) but alas, we admired the new roundabout (Michael says it's a real improvement from past traffic woes of the area and it will be very lovely once they plant the trees - a roundabout, really) and then headed back for our cars. Ira and I were dropped off back at our car on the other side of town and after a refueling at Aroma, headed back up the hill.

I wanted to type out one of my fave songs that Chava sings. She sang it a cappella at the very end, after singing another big hit of hers, "Aht Chey'ru'ti"/You are my freedom. The song is called, "K'mor Tzemach Bar"/Like a Wildflower. But now, as I look at it in Hebrew, I realize that I'm no translator and it will sound stupid, so never mind. I might do better with another fave that she sang, "Perach Ha'li'lach"/Lilac Flower, a tune that wistfully hearkens back to when life was easier and simpler - our youth, perhaps?

Today, perhaps we will delay the coming of night
and not strive for the starlight
and you and I, we have all that we've asked for
without workds we know that because we love (each other).

Today, perhaps we will delay the end of our days
and not remember that there is an end to everything
This is the path, that our legs must travel/walk,
from two sides, the grass will not end (in the hebrew, it may also refer to it drying and turning to crabgrass. too late to investigate further.)

Quietly, we love because you (Lee) and I (lakh) (leelach is lilac also)
have had enough of words of this and that don't know what or how to say how beautiful is the blooming of the lilac flower.

I won't go any further but suffice to say that it's better in Hebrew. Listen to her on the web, I'm sure you can find her.

The Honey

I'm an entrepreneur...again. I've been an entrepreneur - what a word - in the past; Home Catering (many of my satisfied customers may still remember some of our highlights - the lemon-poppyseed cake, spicy peanut dip, curried couscous salad), Pampered Chef (I know some of you still use your mandolins and choppers), and side venues along the way that involved cooking classes (I realize it's only a variation on the theme), and food/health workshops, and then there was the theater work with the homeschoolers but that wasn't about the money although I began to imagine that there might have been ways to develop it further but left to come here.

Late today, we sent our third version of The Honey. How exciting really, to see it come to fruition, from my discussions with Jess about different business ideas that we should experiment - stay tuned for our other ideas - to this one, a newsletter, a way of disseminating all that information on where to go, what to do, where to eat, new things to buy, here in Israel, that we always seemed to enjoy having at our fingertips. People are responding well. If you, my dear reader, have not seen it, please check out thehoneyisrael.wordpress.com and read our archives and please, let me know so that I can send you a copy. As well, please forward and recommend friends and family to subscribe (you can send me their emails with their permission) and help us build our subscriber list.

Funny thing. Who's our tech go-to-guy? Natan. He's the html man, who helps us with the layout each time and is really quite good but grumbles too much and requires too many snacks while handling layout. This must be how techie guys get a pot-belly.

Too tired to say much more. Have cooked a nice bit. Welcoming Miryam Wasserman to chez Skop/Steinberg tomorrow. Looking forward to a whiff of Bklyn.

Shabbat Shalom.

Home Again

Funny as it may seem to many of you reading "over there," I did arrive back home yesterday in the late afternoon. No delays, not a bad flight overall, and was welcomed by Ira, who helped us schlepp the heavy bags to the car and upstairs (Natan came and schlepped, too). Interesting to present my Israeli passport at the passport control and this time they didn't even ask for my American one as everyone else did along the way earlier - I guess I just don't look like an Israeli. Most of the time, though, they seemed the most interested in Gabe who has aged a bit since he last took his Amer passport picture, which is 3 years old, I think.

In case you're interested, we did stop for a snack on the way home. We were on 443 and feeling somewhat peckish and there was Jonathan's favorite side of the road sahlab guy. I was looking forward to a steaming cup of sahlab but unfortunately, weather was too warm to make sahlab. I had malabi - it was really a rice pudding with cinnamon heaped on top with a slight flowery taste but still good. Ira and Gabe shared an oversized turkish boureka with cheese, hot sauce and an egg sliced and stuffed inside. We were happy the rest of the ride home.

Akiva greeted us all warmly and immediately began speaking of airplanes, airports and Brooklyn. I told him of the many people who sent hugs and hellos for him and then we went upstairs where I read him Dr. De Soto and we cuddled together as we sang Sh'ma and got him into bed, all snug and cozy.

My mattress was delighted to see me and it was nice to have Ira in bed next to me. Natan gave me a big hug but both Ira and Natan declared that it was much quieter in the house without us. I blame Gabe.

Weather could be warmer - it's stormy and windy today, but I got up late, marched around in my jammies for a while and enjoyed my jet lag, while unpacking, speaking to people, attending to business (we launch on Thursday if we solve our technical problems, cross your fingers and you can all read our email on Thursday or subscribe - I'll let you know how), even cooked a bit with the boys tonight and watched a 24 episode. Home.

Brooklyn

Dear, dirty Brooklyn. We, Gabe and I, arrived late to JFK - sick passenger, airplane forced to turn around and return to Heathrow, hours on the runway, not enough water and air, 4 hours late which is not bad really, considering, Harry at the airport (how nice to be welcomed personally, even though I had claimed that we could do it on our own but we were SOOOO tired), settling in at the Shelanski's place was easy (they invented the term hospitality), an immediate hug from Ellen Shaw, Iris and Steve for a side of cow to celebrate the return (I restrained myself on the scotch for fear of falling over in my plate) and finally to bed at about midnight, or really 7am Israel time after a full 25 hours of being awake.
The first day just enjoyed the fact that the Tea Lounge is around the corner, with Ralph inside drinking tea, that we could ride the subway and visit homeschooling buddies in Windsor Terrace, and that I could see Erszi on Court St and be in town for the "frecha" store sale (LF).
Dinner at the Steins with the Olenicks, was lovely altho Gabe had reached pass out stage before I had anticipated but we managed to hold ourselves together until the end.
Bat Mitzvah #1 was as anticipated - Leah was excellent, community happy, parents and brother beaming. All was well in the world.
Press of people was intense and Lisa K and I are sure that I was taken for her by someone who engaged me in a long conversation with barely a "how is Israel," which at first I was grateful until I realized that something didn't seem right. Lisa and I have long been considered fungible so that was fine, really, once I realized. Hugged and kissed many - often twice.
Weather is manageable and not cold at all although certainly colder than J'lem.
Enjoy bumping into people on Court St in manner to which I am accustomed and have missed in J'lem but which I do as well when there, too.
No good humous to buy in the store, had to settle for inferior product but mercifully Gabe didn't complain but could be because I bought tofu turkey slices to go with.
Familiarity is only slightly marred by new stores and restaurants in 'hood and the unfortunate Starbucks on Smith St.
Am conscious of the fact that I am a vistor but know that it's not completely a normal visit.
Everyone looks lovely to me - children are bigger and more beautiful, babies have morphed into toddlers, pregnant bellies have popped out new babies, yielding pleasantly beautific fathers and nursing mothers (always pleasurable to see but I am told that nobody nurses in public which is sad as that was what I spend my life doing in the Kane St community room for so many years), and aging friends seem younger than ever.
Shul is what it always was - an annoying mix of the sacred and profane. People walking around analyzing this and that and that and this and the service rises above the same as it ever was, never to change, never to really be faster or slower, just the same. That's what makes it nice.
Davening/leading svcs reminded me that I do like to lead, have a certain skill at it, honed over the past few years, and should find myself some gigs in J'lem and not worry so much that people might not like me.
Have tried not to engage in too many political discussions and realize that I'm shifting leftward faster and faster, even tho I retain certain righter vestiges but find them harder to defend for a host of reasons - even with the threat of Iran and Syria, I remain a peacenick.
Have tried to be honest about big boys and their adjustment and the effort it all is, despite gen'l family happiness.
Purim was just too giddy for me but enjoyed a schnapps to pass the time and the sight of Meir Khatan in jeans - his first pair since the late 80's I think. Gillian said that when they went shopping at the GAP - can you picture him at the gap - he kept tugging at the waistband and saying they didn't go high enough. I will say that they looked fine on him and he was, in Sonny Bono wig and mustache and tie dyed shirt and suede vest - unrecognizable. Gill made a decent Cher but didn't push the envelope enough in costume but I imagine Bob Mackie was unavailable for a styling session.
Purim party today, then Charlie and Jo and hopefully Pammy, which will be just lovely, and then we're off to Mt Snow for some ski and snow.
Purim Sameach to all, esp those in J'lem.