Rainy days and Mondays (are good for you)

I think one of my favourite things in the world must be coming home wet and muddy from a walk in the woods in the middle of a verdant Israeli winter. If my clothes reek of damp earth and woodsmoke from sitting around a campfire, so much the better.

The folks who organised my kid's morning in the forest certainly knew what they were talking about when they refused to allow rain to stop play, at least until at lunchtime it turned into a real downpour complete with hail. By then though everyone had enjoyed several hours of stories, crafts and running around and was about ready to scramble into their vehicles and head for home anyway.

Our outings to the woods have become a regular activity this year. J scampers off with her group and madrikha (youth leader) doing a good impression of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys climbing trees and making things from the forest floor's raw materials, while the toddler makes nature his playground with dry carob pod rattles to shake and twigs for scratching the dirt. Little wonder I guess that "tree" was amongst his first few clearly distinct words.

Today in the rain the madrikh taught the children how to safely and responsibly build a campfire, how to keep it burning in the drizzle, what kind of kindling works best to start a fire, which to maintain it, how damp wood would make it smoke and crucially, how to put it out. The tragedy of the Carmel fire is still in everyone's thoughts and with bonfires so much a part of the local culture teaching fire safetly to such young children is more prudent than ever. Only you can prevent forest fires. Indeed.

As the kids and a few parents gathered around the crackling fire the madrikh donned a silly hat and spun ever more complex yarns featuring animal folk tales from around the world. The children interjected comments or corrections now and then, my budding little story teller volunteering one of her original creations.

The rain beat down from time to time, some folks huddled under umbrellas or in their hooded anoraks, other just enjoyed the sensation, keeping warm by the fire as the rain soaked into their hair and clothes.

Even during the unseaonally warm days of dry drought, the green carobs and eucalyptus offered respite from the yellow browness of a landscape which should have been greened by winter weeks (and later months) earlier.

Using the miracle word here is to be sure a cliche, but that's just what it feels like now that winter has finally arrived, watching the land come to life again, finding freshly grown grass and shoots sprouting from the dust. Today we found carpets of pink cyclamen, clumps of tall white asphodels, covered in raindrops as though adorned by diamonds. All kinds of unfurling leaves promise even more delights on our next visit.

The long and the short of it

It's Tu B'Shvat time again so of course I had to plan a nature walk up on our little wilderness hill to see if despite the late rain and extended drought some of the seasonal flowers are in bloom, and most importantly, to check out the almond trees.

This is the first time I've had two walking children to take on the annual family Tu B'Shvatish ramble. OK, so one still has a distinctly toddlerish gait to him and as far as I can tell no concept of Tu B'Shvat or even what day of  the week it is, but thank God, he has two very keen eyes and is incredibly observant, so maybe he got more out of the walk than I thought he would.

J is an aspiring botanist and naturalist among other things. She confidently led the way pointing out things she recognised and in between getting carried away and running ahead she also made time to take the little guy's hand and teach him a little about the local flora, inviting him to rub his fingers on the leaves of sage and za'atar plants and then to sniff them while intoning breathless mini-lectures to him along the lines of "Baby, this is sage, it tastes good in cooking, Ima puts it on potatoes and you can make tea with it to make a tummy ache feel better and I think Abba puts it in the meat when he makes it for the Seder and in another few weeks maybe it will have little white crescent shaped flowers".

Baby smiled, laughed, pleased at the attention, but before she was finished had already noticed something else, maybe an ant highway or a beetle. I sometimes think that his fondness for ants in particular is simply that he can say their name so easily. Or maybe it's just an affinity for creatures so small and low to the ground. Regardless, he loves them. Perhaps it's just that a fascination with creeping things runs in the family. We tend to get strange looks when as a family we all stop in our tracks and stoop to study a passing beetle or millipede.


A few metres on and J excitedly left the path to investigate a huge clump of leaves, proclaiming it to be a "child sized forest". It was actually a clump of giant asphodel leaves, some with tall sticks of buds, a scant two or three already with flowers. "Ah yes, asphodels, these are commonly found around the Mediterranean" she announced confidently. "I learnt that from David Attenborough".

Further along her excited shouts announced great clumps of cyclamen leaves, followed by a shrill whoop when she found two actually in flower, and even greater excitement ensued when she finally found Eretz Israel irises, a low ground-hugging white and yellow iris, among the first flowers to bloom during the rainy season.

The bright red crown anemones are always a treat, only a handful were out, late by usual standards, but considering the lack of rain, that was no surprise. What did surprise me though was J's insistence that some were in fact nuriot (buttercups). I patiently explained that I thought it was too early for nuriot, and anyway, these all looked like anemones to me, but she adamantly studied each one of the few flowers on the hillside and insisted that she'd counted the petals on each and that one had the wrong number of petals for an anemone so it must be a nurit. Her brother chose this moment to tire of toddling, so it was back to the buggy on the path and no chance for me to check her findings in the field.

While the kids focused on the ground my sights were set on higher things. From my (comparatively) lofty height, it was my job to scan the hillside for almond blossom. I saw a paltry few blooms here and there, but mostly the almond trees were disappointingly bare.

All that is, except for one on a west facing slope overlooking the town. There in all it's glory was an almond tree in full bloom, a huge cloud of delicate white-pink blossoms like a giant cotton candy fluff on the hillside. Couldn't have asked for better. J ran excitedly down the rocky path to get a closer look. I tried to draw her brother's attention to it but at that moment a jay flew by and enthusiastic birdwatcher that he is all he could see was the "Bir! Bir! Bir!". Chacun a son gout as my grandmother used to say.

Shore leave

Really and truly had a date night, how cool is that ?! It's been, well, I really don't know, but a LOOOONG time since DH and I got some downtime all to ourselves to go out and pretend to be carefree newlyweds again. Does that make me sound really old? Hmm.

We found a real babysitter complete with teenage angst, boundless energy and an impressive variety of bodypiercings (and an excellent rapport with the household little people). I only called her twice while we were out and when we got home the kids were asleep and the next morning Junior reported that she'd had a great time and could we go out again and have G come to stay with them?

So what to do with all this freedom? Continue with DH's musical education I guess.

John Lee Hooker Jr, yes, the son of, was in Tel Aviv as part of a European tour and it sounded like a fun way to spend a grown-ups' night out, and boy was it ever. The sheer energy of the man is unbelievable, his dance moves, showmanship, never mind the funky music. Way to make an old married couple of 30something feel young? Watch an almost 60something prance around on stage like he's 21. Very inspiring. I want to have dance moves like John Lee Hooker Jr when I'm nearly 60.

A friend of mine said you can't do R&B (and I mean old time R&B) without a smoky bar and a few pints of beer in front of you, so I guess I couldn't convey the complete experience to DH because a)it was a nightclub outfitted to look vaguely 1930ish with red crystal chandeliers and seating at neat little tables b) however it was still 2010 so no smoking c) DH was driving, so no booze for him and I was so darn knackered that if I'd drunk anything alchoholic I would have facepalmed right into the table raucous electric blues or no raucous electric blues. We made do with lemonade. Hardly authentic, but we're realists.

He sang a lot of original material, catchy in a funky, electric sort of way, some funny wry lyrics which were as much fun as the music. I think the crowd responded even more warmly though to the covers of his father's stuff, not surprising, they are just so well known. Truth be told though TA responds warmly to pretty much any act that comes from abroad, this is a coastal city with its eyes to the world. Bunch of the audience were a typical young crowd there for a night out, whatever the act. There were quite a few expats and tourists consuming far more copious amounts of alcohol than the locals from what I could see, quite scary to watch the sheer extent of the beer guzzling at the next table. Noticed a fair number of oldtimers too though, fans of Hooker Sr, every bit as enthusiastic as the "kids". I thought it was kind of cool to see that  mixed an audience, and I don't think anyone was disappointed, it was music to get you up and moving whatever your age or nationality.

Overall though it was fun, energising and just plain liberating to go out as adults for once. And the warm up act, a local R&B/Blues outfit called Sobo, were pretty cool too. 


Would I do it again? I already have a list of concerts I'd love to get to and another list of possible babysitters lined up. 'Bout time.

Hannukah miracles and silver linings

This Hannukah we've certainly had an unwanted kind of light shining in the darkness, a raging, blazing fire right in the middle of the Festival of Light. Instead of lighting candles the country is busy dousing flames.

I would say there was a silver lining in this Hannukah's tragedy, only there really aren't any grey clouds to be seen unless you count plumes of smoke.

The lights of the Hannukiya though are there to remind us of the great Hannukah miracle all those millennia ago, how a foreign power came and tried to extinguish Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael, snuff out all observance of the Torah and enforce Hellenisation of the Jews. It didn't work though because we fought back and succeeded in restoring our religious and cultural autonomy, even if Judea remained a vassal state to the mighty Seleucids. You can't always have it all, but you should be gratetful for what you do have.

There was a Rasputin clone (if Rasputin wore ragged jeans and t-shirts) in the post office on Thursday ranting about how the burning of the Carmel, site of Elijah's famous showdown with the false prophets of Ba'al, was a message from God, a sign that the end is nigh. Bunch of folks there, religious and secular alike, were quick to point out that he was seeing things that weren't, that there is no prophecy in our age and would he kindly just shut up and let folks get on with doing post officey things.

Well maybe there are still prophets among us and maybe not, but it doesn't mean God isn't active in the world and doesn't mean we can't learn from events. Question is what are we meant to learn?

Maybe that we're better off than we often think. On this holiday when we celebrate the survival of our nation and culture and faith in the face of Antiochus' decrees which tried to force us to assimilate into the Hellenic world, isn't there something wonderful about a modern independent Jewish state receiving aid from those very Hellenic nations?

It's sad that we need it, sad that maybe the shortsightedness of our leaders required us to have to call in favours from friend and not so much friend alike, but fact is they came running to our aid, treating us like an equal, a fellow sovereign state among the nations. And what's more, many came while expressing their gratitude for the aid we have offered over the years to so many nations in their time of need. It's never easy to ask for help, but how incredible when so many gladly heed the call.

I'm not suggesting this is any great comfort to the 41 who lost their lives, to the many more who lost their homes, their livestock, their life's work. But it is a comfort to a nation which increasingly has to battle hateful lies and attempts at total delegitimisation as part of an ongiong propaganda war against the Jewish state.

It's a war of attrition our enemies have been waging for decades now, rewriting history, denying our right to this land, to our holiest shrines. Even respectable, educated people get taken in by it as we saw with the recent UNESCO decisions denying Judaism's link to the cradles of Jewish history, the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron (whose exactly? Um, I wonder) and Rachel's Tomb in Bethlehem. Who in their right minds would think that biblical figures like Abraham and Rachel might have anything to do with the Jews?!

The sweet folks behind the assorted anti-Israel delegitimisation campaigns are trying to make us despondent, make us believe that their campaign has made us a pariah state. Their constant harping about divestment and sanctions and boycotts is designed not just to hurt us economically, but to demoralise, make us doubt our survival and purpose and ability to survive. They want us scared of what the future will bring. They want us isolated from the world, cut off from the rest of civilisation.

They want us to think that we have no one to rely on, no friends, no allies.

This weekend's crisis was a massive slap in the face to those enemies. I'm not deluding myself into thinking that suddenly the world loves us, because, well, they have their own interests and we are still just a small country and there are lots of bigger or richer countries who really don't like us and the nations of the world don't think it's in their interest to alienate them by being too friendly with us. I get that. But still, even Jordan and Egypt, despite domestic opposition, sent us aid. Even Turkey with whom we really haven't been getting on well of late. Even Russia which is kind of buddy buddy with some of our worst enemies.

I don't pretend they did it from love, but I hope perhaps they did it in the knowledge that Israel has extended assistance again and again, whether it was the Armenian earthquake in '88 or the 1999 earthquakes in Turkey and Greece, or in '97 when Israel sent firefighting helicopters to Turkey to put out a massive out of control blaze or the 2005 relief efforts to southern Asia after the tsunami, to name just a few.

Many in the world may choose to hate us, but they do know that Israel has and will come through for them over and over again to offer humanitarian aid in time of crisis. Surely as a Jewish nation founded on the notion of being Or Lagoyim, a Light Unto the Nations, that is part of our purpose, to set an example for how decent people the world over should behave. It's a principle laid down in our most sacred texts - even if you see the ox or the donkey of your enemy collapsing under its burden you are required to help. If we've helped to spread that concept around, then we're fulfilling at least part of our mission.

This Hannukah's miracle is very much bittersweet, there's no denying it, and yes, maybe we imagine a miracle as Hashem opening the heavens at exactly the right time and dousing the flames with rain, but we need to open our eyes wider and appreciate the miracle of civilised peoples helping one another. In a crazy fickle world that isn't something to be taken for granted.

Seoul Music and Ping Pong Diplomacy

Went for the cultural jackpot today - with Junior to the opera for kids' series in the afternoon, followed by an evening of cool jazz in Jerusalem. Truth be told I'm totally amazed that it all worked out, what with working out babysitting for the baby, then promptly rushing of to Jerusalem, dropping off the kids for an evening of auntie fun and then making it to the theatre in time for the jazz. Very well coordinated, especially for me. 

I guess Korea isn't the first country that comes to mind when you think of jazz acts. For most people it's the country of LG and Hyundai rather than music and the arts. Well this week I suppose we're all thinking of Korea as the flashpoint for a potential armagedon thanks to the lunatic in charge in Pyongyang, but anyway. 

We arrived at the theatre expecting a relaxing evening of jazz, so you'll forgive our inward groans and eye rolls when a guy gets up on stage before the show and announces that actually there will be a little awards ceremony first with a member of the Jerusalem Municipality and an MK and the Korean Ambassador, and you know what? I came to see a show, not for some political posturing, thank you. 

Imagine my surprise when no other than Yuli Edelstein, minister for diaspora affairs and one of my all time favourite political leaders (and I don't have many of those) and childhood heroes, gets up looking rather sheepish, and explains that actually he also came this evening for the jazz but the organisers saw him in the audience and twisted his arm into saying a few words. Poor man, kept his cool and his charm but I think he was just as miffed about being drafted as we felt initially at hearing about said ceremony. 

Being Yuli Edelstein he kept it short and brilliantly beautifully to the point. Who better than he to point out that Israel has often stood in the dark place that South Korea now finds herself, facing unprovoked rocket attacks on her civilians by a tyrannical neighbour. He expressed Israel's sympathy and solidarity with South Korea with such warmth and sincerity that I wanted to hug him on behalf of my very dear South Korean friends. 

Hilik Bar from the Jerusalem city council spoke about warm ties with Korea and the recent boost in Korean tourism to Israel's capital. And his mangling of the Korean language was cute, even if I didn't understand what he said, I could make out the Israeli accent.

Turns out Israel's ambassador to Seoul heard Korean jazz singer Malo and harmonic player Jeon Jeduk perform in the Korean capital and was so taken by them that he decided to try and set up an Israel tour for the duo and their backing band. So far they'ed played Tel Aviv, Haifa and elsewhere, finishing up right here in Jerusalem. Cue little handwave to said ambassador, his wife, his daughter, her boyfriend, all sitting in the audience tonight.

South Korea's ambassador stole the show though, all humble charm, sweetly accented English and wry humour.   He was he explained, used to spending time with Minister Edelstein, his regular ping pong partner. Who knew? 

Finally he tried his hand at some Hebrew and mispronounced it as beautifully as Hilik Bar had Korean, but he'd won the hearts of his Israeli audience who enthusiastically clapped and cheered his initiative. I think he single handedly boosted Israeli tourism to Korea. That man has talent. 

And so to the music. Jeon Jeduk was on first with the band. Blind almost from birth, he was escorted on stage and seated front centre, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. When he took out his harmonic though you forgot all that, he made it sing like a clarinet, a sax, all kinds of things that definitely did not sound like a harmonica, his face scrunched in concentration, lost in the music. DH, a fan of the clarinet, was truly blown away. I was pretty impressed too. 

I thought Malo, stage name of singer Soowol Cheong, was the highlight of the show though. Her scatting was a joy to listen to, playful and vibrant. She had the audience eating out of her hand. I loved the gentle sound of her native tongue in her jazzy versions of Korean pop tunes (including one that sounded like Hatikva!) while her English singing was almost unaccented.

What can I say, it was fun, it was spirited, and it most definitely had soul. 

Make that Seoul.

For more information check out: http://koreajazz.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/malo/ and http://www.jpost.com/home/article.aspx?id=195939

Ten years on, in case anyone has forgotten

Happened to be going through some old files of mine and came across journal entries I'ed written almost exactly a decade ago. No sweet nostalgia though because they were chilling notes about the early weeks of the Oslo War or Second Intifada, grisly descriptions of the daily bombings, riots, shootings and lynchings with which our dear Palestinian Authority peace partners ripped up the supposed peace accords and unleashed some of the worst and most consistent campaign of terror Israel has seen.

It's amazing what time will do, how far removed I feel today from that fear and confusion and disorientation as day to day life was turned upside down and ordinary citizens felt like they were taking their lives in their hands just by travelling to work or going down to the shops.

I hope that Obama or some of his advisors remember what happened here in October 2000. I hope they realise why ordinary pro-peace Israelis feel nervous, cautious, even fearful about new concessions and a new peace process considering the horrific way in which Oslo quite literally exploded in our faces, mere weeks after the dovish pro-Oslo Barak administration offered PLO chairman Arafat the most drastic concessions ever proposed by an Israeli government.

Barak's government was determined to reach peace that summer. He went out on a limb with a deal which included concessions most Israeli citizens would have found hard to swallow, but which Barak was determined to go through with anyway. Arafat, rather than building on this unprecedented Israeli flexibility walked away from the talks and shortly after initiated an all our terror campaign against Israel which cost the lives of over 1000 Israelis, wounded thousands more, around 70% of those casualties Israeli civilians.

So despite how the foreign press likes to prattle on about Israeli "intransigence" "belligerence" and other sweet little epithets that paint our nation, or at least our leadership as little better than the Mongol hordes, the actual reason Joe Israeli feels nothing but trepidation in the face of renewed American and European and general international pressure for more concessions, more relaxing of security, is none of these, just simple self-preservation from a people who were so badly burned the last time they went out on a limb for peace.

It's the same reason all the campaigns to boycott, scream at, delegitamise and otherwise blacklist the Jewish state are mostly met with indifference and nose thumbing by Israelis. Better than any American or European "peace" activist, we know what the horrors of war are, we know what it means to leave the house for work in the morning without knowing whether we'll return home in one piece, if at all.

We've been there and done that and we know that the only thing that stopped it in the end was military action and the construction of the security fence. Not talks, not concessions not fairweather ceasefires that leaked attacks like sieves. Nothing worked to stop the daily Palestinian perpetrated carnage on Israeli streets until Israel's military finally was given the green light to aggressively go after the terror networks and infrastructure riddling Gaza and the West Bank. Would that all those visits by Zinni, Powell, Mitchell and their buddies had yielded results, but at the end of the day they produced nothing but hot air and empty platitudes.

Increasingly many Israelis have come to the realisation that perhaps there is no solution to be had right now, that all we can do is try to muddle through as best we can. It's not a pleasant thought, and it doesn't mean there won't be attempts to make things easier for all the peoples living in this troubled little corner of the world, but it does mean that people are more cautious about grand peace talks and grand concessions which open us up to more Oslo era terror.

Some people look at all this and dismiss us as a PTSD nation, and maybe there is some truth to that. I don't think anyone lives through such an extended period of life threatening daily terror without experiencing some kind of long term trauma. But that isn't at the root of our present day caution or our increased resolve not to bend to international will. No, I'd say it was common sense.

Doesn't mean that when push comes to shove the Israeli leadership will hold firm, but for the sake of all Israel's citizens, I pray that they do.

Peace is nice, but only if you are alive to enjoy it.

Starry starry night...

If we didn't have to choose a place of residence based on mundane considerations like jobs and work and stuff like that I think our family would long ago have moved to somewhere in the boonies, probably out in the desert.

I think it each time we visit some desert boiberik community, feast my eyes on those bleak vistas and feel the cool chill of an evening desert breeze and my soul just screams to me that this is where I should be, not cooling my heels in the Middle Eastern equivalent of white picket fence country. Oh, but practicality rules and darn if we don't have to consider things like commuting distance and job markets.

I got a double dose of desert fixes last week, Judean and Negev deserts in one week, both as enchanting and soul searing as ever. Truly, it hurt to leave, however much I like my home, and really, I do, well, most of the time.

Mitzpe Ramon perched on the rim of the dramatic Ramon Crater (Makhtesh Ramon) really takes the soul food cake for me though. As towns go it's a tiny, neglected one-horse affair of a place (well, maybe 2 or 3 horses, but it doesn't look big enough for that). But look out beyond that aging low-rise tenements and the old concrete prefab houses and your heart gets caught in your throat as the red cliffs drop away to the vast Makhtesh in all its multi-hued rough and ready glory.

I finally fulfilled a long-time dream this week and went out there to view the Perseid meteor shower. The town is home to Israel's biggest telescope and a team of astronomers taking advantage of the high elevation and clear desert skies. And the town takes advantage of them, promoting events like the Perseids to bring visitors in, though I think most of the folks who crowded in to the town's sad little football stadium (think scrubby field with a fence and a few rows of bleachers against one wall) were locals or at least other southerners.

The municipality turned off all the town's lights for the event and the effect was just incredible, so many stars and so many constellations and a bevy of astronomers with telescopes to show you delights like the bands on Jupiter or a binary star system (I will never doubt SF writers again, well, maybe at least a little less).

Sure, early on in the evening there were annoying crowds of noisy families waving their torches (flashlights) around and screwing with my night vision, but then there were also fascinating lectures and for the grand finale, before the astonomers went of somewhere even darker, there was a guided tour of the desert sky with laser to point out the constellations usually washed out by the pollution of urban glow.

Then the astronomers left and we common folk were left to just enjoy the show.The pose of girls behind me were musically inclined and kept bursting into song. Fortunately they were all blessed with beautiful, melodious voices. Seemed to be into Israeli oldies, which was kind of surprising for a bunch of late-teens and 20-somethings, but that was kind of cool, seeing as I kind of dig that sort of thing myself. Even found myself singing along some of the time.

The middle-aged guys camping out to the left spent most of the time yakking about their army days in the 70s, who served when, where and how, occasionally lapsing into arguments over which remembered buddy had done what when. It was kind of like listening to some classic Israeli comedy from 30 years ago. Then they lapsed into car buying talk and I zoned out because, well, minivan versus small truck comparisons in the wee hours just doesn't do it for me.

It was actually kind of nice to lie back on my blanket at around 02:00, the kids finally asleep snuggled up next to me against the desert chill, watching the lazy streak of meteorites across the sky. And yeah, I've seen more spectacular meteor displays, truly I have, but I still enjoyed this one, some incredibly bright ones, clearly flaming, red taking many seconds for their trails to fade from the sky.

Beautiful or not it was damn cold.

That was a real treat for Israel in August.

By the Perseid peak at 03:00 most other folks had either left or gone to sleep, and it was so wonderfully peaceful and the vast starry sky was so achingly mind blowing that it felt like a religious experience, the secrets of creation just spread out like a treasure map for me to puzzle out.

I guess when all is said and done I really am kind of sappy at heart.

And yes, I will confess that Don Maclean did briefly flit through my mind, but Matti Caspi gave him a firm shove, followed by, well, Psalms. And Led Zeppelin. No, I don't know why, it just seemed fitting.