Monday, January 23, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Adventure Continues
The Jewish Sabbath Is on Saturday and begins at sundown on Friday. Most offices, schools, and government institutions close at noon. Even though Tel Aviv is largely secular, there is a very festive feeling in the streets as the Sabbath approaches. Families are out strolling, sitting at outdoor cafes, buying flowers. By mid afternoon, there's an amazing reduction in traffic, and the streets are quiet. By late evening, though, it resumes again as young people go out to party until the wee hours as they don't have to work on Saturday.
Friday afternoon to went to hear chamber music, at one of the many venues in Tel Aviv for music. This one was the Felicia Blumenthal Centre, named after a Viennese born Brazilian pianist who eventually came to Israel. Two trios performed music written by Yehezkiel Braun, an eminent Israeli composer. What impressed me most was the number of children in the audience, many of whom are no doubt learning to play musical instruments, who sat enraptured throughout the performance. Israelis take their music very seriously and obviously it starts at a young age.
The next morning I was awake at 6am. My cousin Elie was picking me up at 6:30 so that we could go for a 6k walk and a swim at a beach in northern Tel Aviv called Tzuk. Except for the odd taxi, the streets were deserted and it was barely light. I was sure we'd be the only people on the beach. There were already a goodly number when we began walking, but as we progressed, the foot traffic increased. The crowd was mostly post 50, no doubt working off the Sabbath meal of the night before. There were signs everywhere saying no fishing allowed, but you wouldn't have known it from the number of people fishing. When I mentioned it to my cousin he gave me a one word explanation. "Jews!"
Joining us on the walk was Elie's friend, Idit, who's a retired professor of literature at Tel Aviv University. When she found out I'm Canadian, she engaged me in a discussion on the works of Alice Munro and Margaret Atwood.
After the walk, Elie and I went for a swim in the Mediterranean. We were the only ones without surfboards. The waves were high and frequent, and absolutely thrilling to dive into. The water was much warmer than the Pacific in Vancouver in summer, even though the air temperature was only about 65.
We were showered, dressed, and ready for breakfast by 8:40am! And what a start to the day that was.
Yesterday I spent the better part of the day with another cousin, Bruriah, who is 81 and a native born Israeli. She takes a weekly class in biblical interpretation, free, and sponsored by the City of Tel Aviv. The subject for the lecture was the siege of Samaria, from the Book of Kings in the Old Testament. Even though I was completely ignorant of the subject matter, I was captivated by the artful story telling, and the erudite interweaving of ancient art and modern poetry with the biblical material. The class members were mostly women in their seventies and eighties who were clearly familiar with the material, and who didn't hesitate to call out comments and questions at will. It made for very interesting and humorous ( to me) discussion. My cousin, Bruriah, was the most vocal of all.
In the afternoon I determined yet again to get an Israeli Sim card for my phone. Despite a couple of previous attempts, I had not yet been successful. This time I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I wandered into a shop on Ben Yehuda, one of the main streets of Tel Aviv. Between Daniel, the gruff but very competent owner who threw people out of his shop if he didn't like them, and Valerie, the Russian girl who lots of face piercings, and lots of grumblings from both about Fido and Rogers with whom they evidently have experience, the job got done. I now have an Isreali Sim card and get and make calls within Israel without being gouged by my Canadian carrier!
Friday afternoon to went to hear chamber music, at one of the many venues in Tel Aviv for music. This one was the Felicia Blumenthal Centre, named after a Viennese born Brazilian pianist who eventually came to Israel. Two trios performed music written by Yehezkiel Braun, an eminent Israeli composer. What impressed me most was the number of children in the audience, many of whom are no doubt learning to play musical instruments, who sat enraptured throughout the performance. Israelis take their music very seriously and obviously it starts at a young age.
The next morning I was awake at 6am. My cousin Elie was picking me up at 6:30 so that we could go for a 6k walk and a swim at a beach in northern Tel Aviv called Tzuk. Except for the odd taxi, the streets were deserted and it was barely light. I was sure we'd be the only people on the beach. There were already a goodly number when we began walking, but as we progressed, the foot traffic increased. The crowd was mostly post 50, no doubt working off the Sabbath meal of the night before. There were signs everywhere saying no fishing allowed, but you wouldn't have known it from the number of people fishing. When I mentioned it to my cousin he gave me a one word explanation. "Jews!"
Joining us on the walk was Elie's friend, Idit, who's a retired professor of literature at Tel Aviv University. When she found out I'm Canadian, she engaged me in a discussion on the works of Alice Munro and Margaret Atwood.
After the walk, Elie and I went for a swim in the Mediterranean. We were the only ones without surfboards. The waves were high and frequent, and absolutely thrilling to dive into. The water was much warmer than the Pacific in Vancouver in summer, even though the air temperature was only about 65.
We were showered, dressed, and ready for breakfast by 8:40am! And what a start to the day that was.
Yesterday I spent the better part of the day with another cousin, Bruriah, who is 81 and a native born Israeli. She takes a weekly class in biblical interpretation, free, and sponsored by the City of Tel Aviv. The subject for the lecture was the siege of Samaria, from the Book of Kings in the Old Testament. Even though I was completely ignorant of the subject matter, I was captivated by the artful story telling, and the erudite interweaving of ancient art and modern poetry with the biblical material. The class members were mostly women in their seventies and eighties who were clearly familiar with the material, and who didn't hesitate to call out comments and questions at will. It made for very interesting and humorous ( to me) discussion. My cousin, Bruriah, was the most vocal of all.
In the afternoon I determined yet again to get an Israeli Sim card for my phone. Despite a couple of previous attempts, I had not yet been successful. This time I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I wandered into a shop on Ben Yehuda, one of the main streets of Tel Aviv. Between Daniel, the gruff but very competent owner who threw people out of his shop if he didn't like them, and Valerie, the Russian girl who lots of face piercings, and lots of grumblings from both about Fido and Rogers with whom they evidently have experience, the job got done. I now have an Isreali Sim card and get and make calls within Israel without being gouged by my Canadian carrier!
Friday, January 6, 2012
Visit Israel, see the world
It's hard to believe that in a country the size of New Jersey there could be such a diverse population - and I haven't seen anything yet but Tel Aviv! Of course there are many people here from the former Soviet Union, both Jews and non Jews. Some 300,000 emigrated to Israel in the 1990's. How such a small country could absorb so many people in such a short time while defending its borders is beyond my comprehension. But the Russian presence is very noticeable. Many people in the street speak it, there are Russian signs everywhere, and many shops, especially jewellery and clothing stores which feature very ornate pieces that I imagine would have appealed to the Czars- or anyone else with royal inclinations! Apparently they are for the most part a very patriotic group and have their own political party called Ysrael Beytainu, which means "Israel, our home." and as if to corroborate that, I met a woman from Odessa yesterday, who came to Israel in 1990 with her husband and 2 children. "In Russia where I was born, I was always an outsider," she told me. "Here I am at home."
There are also a great number of Africans, mostly from Eritrea and the Sudan, both Christians and Muslims, who fled their homelands because of civil war and found shelter in Israel. They seem to do the menial jobs, but without language or skills they have to start somewhere.
Eating has provided us with the opportunity for adventure and insights. A couple of days ago while in Jaffa, an ancient port city on the coast, about a 45 minute walk from our apartment,with a mixed population of Arabs and Jews, we made our way to Abu Hassan, an Arabic restaurant that had been recommended by one of my guide books. We arrived during the lunch crush, and it was very noisy with all male waiters screaming orders. The clientele was also almost exclusively male. In the midst of this apparent and slightly overwhelming chaos, order was suddenly imposed. One of the clients took charge of us and told the maitre d' what to serve us. We were then ushered to a table where 2 men were already seated. Our lunch dates! Our food arrived in the blink of an eye and I recognized hummus and a bean paste on the plate, but there were other items that were a mystery, but very delicious. Our "dates" were very courteous, showing us which sauces were appropriate for dipping with which of our varied
tidbits. It was hard to tell from appearance (not that it mattered) but they were both Jewish. One owned a garage in Jaffa that his father started 30 years ago. When I asked him if his clients were mostly Jews or Arabs, he responded in a way which indicated that the answer was obvious, "Both." the other fellow had crutches and was disabled. A bullet from an Arab sniper, he told us. Yet when he left, he warmly embraced the owner, who's an Arab. Go figure.
This delicious feast cost us $5 each.
Yesterday we went to the Florentine district in south Tel Aviv. My uncle had a dry goods store there when I first visited almost 50 years ago, and it was then a pretty seedy area with little shops owned by Jews from eastern Europe. Now it's still seedy, but with obvious gentrification going on and the shopkeepers are both Arabs, and Jews from Middle Eastern countries. Our noses drew us to a Persian restaurant where we had what I thought was chicken soup with matzo balls. It turned out we were eating "Gondi", which are made with ground chick peas and chopped chicken. We were absolutely swooning with pleasure.
After lunch we made our way to a nearby street where there are shops selling an array of dried fruit and legumes that rivaled anything I'd seen in the markets in Istanbul. We bought candied ginger, dried apricots, and pumpkin seeds still hot from the roasting oven. That was supper, along with a bottle of very cheap and delicious cabernet Sauvignon from Romania.
There are also a great number of Africans, mostly from Eritrea and the Sudan, both Christians and Muslims, who fled their homelands because of civil war and found shelter in Israel. They seem to do the menial jobs, but without language or skills they have to start somewhere.
Eating has provided us with the opportunity for adventure and insights. A couple of days ago while in Jaffa, an ancient port city on the coast, about a 45 minute walk from our apartment,with a mixed population of Arabs and Jews, we made our way to Abu Hassan, an Arabic restaurant that had been recommended by one of my guide books. We arrived during the lunch crush, and it was very noisy with all male waiters screaming orders. The clientele was also almost exclusively male. In the midst of this apparent and slightly overwhelming chaos, order was suddenly imposed. One of the clients took charge of us and told the maitre d' what to serve us. We were then ushered to a table where 2 men were already seated. Our lunch dates! Our food arrived in the blink of an eye and I recognized hummus and a bean paste on the plate, but there were other items that were a mystery, but very delicious. Our "dates" were very courteous, showing us which sauces were appropriate for dipping with which of our varied
tidbits. It was hard to tell from appearance (not that it mattered) but they were both Jewish. One owned a garage in Jaffa that his father started 30 years ago. When I asked him if his clients were mostly Jews or Arabs, he responded in a way which indicated that the answer was obvious, "Both." the other fellow had crutches and was disabled. A bullet from an Arab sniper, he told us. Yet when he left, he warmly embraced the owner, who's an Arab. Go figure.
This delicious feast cost us $5 each.
Yesterday we went to the Florentine district in south Tel Aviv. My uncle had a dry goods store there when I first visited almost 50 years ago, and it was then a pretty seedy area with little shops owned by Jews from eastern Europe. Now it's still seedy, but with obvious gentrification going on and the shopkeepers are both Arabs, and Jews from Middle Eastern countries. Our noses drew us to a Persian restaurant where we had what I thought was chicken soup with matzo balls. It turned out we were eating "Gondi", which are made with ground chick peas and chopped chicken. We were absolutely swooning with pleasure.
After lunch we made our way to a nearby street where there are shops selling an array of dried fruit and legumes that rivaled anything I'd seen in the markets in Istanbul. We bought candied ginger, dried apricots, and pumpkin seeds still hot from the roasting oven. That was supper, along with a bottle of very cheap and delicious cabernet Sauvignon from Romania.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Yesterday's highlights
I know that yesterday's news is old news, especially with immediate gratificaton technology, but it's the best I can do. So much to see and do in a day, and even I have only so much energy.
Those of you who know my habits will be amazed - as am I- that I wake up before 7 am, which is wonderful so that I don't miss any of that exquisite Mediterranean light and sun. Yesterday we went to the open market at Nachalat Binyamin, which is a street that becomes a huge craft market, twice a week, with many different stalls. With artisans from all over the world living in Israel, the crafts displayed are so varied and original,
One memorable encounter was withva woman by the name of Sara, who is a native born Israeli, born into a secular family. One day God spoke to her and she became Orthodox. She lives in Kfar Chabad, which is an Orthodox community. Her husband doesn't work as he studies the Talmud all day, an arrangement not uncommon in that community, and so she is the breadwinner - happily so- for her husband and twin children. She makes exquisite jewelry from bits of glass and shards she finds near the Dead Sea, and says that the spirit of God moves through her every time she creates something. It's safe to say that her pieces are indeed divine and I must confess. I succumbed. But I bought only one piece. When she found out I was single she insisted on giving me the name and phone number of a rabbi she swore would help me find a man. I don't think I'm going to follow up on this lead.
I left the market and walked along the sea on the Taylet, the promenade, and met my cousin Flossie for lunch. She took me to an upscale restaurant for lunch called Moadon Hakzinim, or the captains' club. Many of the dishes on thevmenu contained pork, which the Israelis euphemistically refer to as white meat, and shellfish, which I refer to as bottom feeders. I settled for a chicken stir fry which was delicious.
Joining us at lunch was Aviva, Flossie's friend who lives on kibbutz Ein Harod, in the north of Israel, near Afullah. She was born in Poland. She was a child when the Nazis were rounding up the Jews, and her parents entrusted her to a Polish family who hid her and saved her life. Her entire family perished, but an aunt in Israel adopted her and today she is a happy woman with 4 children and 13 grandchildren, all living within a short distance of each other.
Later that evening at Flossie's house, her husband, Elie, brought out a bottle of Cabernet Franc, made by his cousin who has a phd in agriculture and is an acclaimed amateur winemaker. It was outstanding.
We're
Those of you who know my habits will be amazed - as am I- that I wake up before 7 am, which is wonderful so that I don't miss any of that exquisite Mediterranean light and sun. Yesterday we went to the open market at Nachalat Binyamin, which is a street that becomes a huge craft market, twice a week, with many different stalls. With artisans from all over the world living in Israel, the crafts displayed are so varied and original,
One memorable encounter was withva woman by the name of Sara, who is a native born Israeli, born into a secular family. One day God spoke to her and she became Orthodox. She lives in Kfar Chabad, which is an Orthodox community. Her husband doesn't work as he studies the Talmud all day, an arrangement not uncommon in that community, and so she is the breadwinner - happily so- for her husband and twin children. She makes exquisite jewelry from bits of glass and shards she finds near the Dead Sea, and says that the spirit of God moves through her every time she creates something. It's safe to say that her pieces are indeed divine and I must confess. I succumbed. But I bought only one piece. When she found out I was single she insisted on giving me the name and phone number of a rabbi she swore would help me find a man. I don't think I'm going to follow up on this lead.
I left the market and walked along the sea on the Taylet, the promenade, and met my cousin Flossie for lunch. She took me to an upscale restaurant for lunch called Moadon Hakzinim, or the captains' club. Many of the dishes on thevmenu contained pork, which the Israelis euphemistically refer to as white meat, and shellfish, which I refer to as bottom feeders. I settled for a chicken stir fry which was delicious.
Joining us at lunch was Aviva, Flossie's friend who lives on kibbutz Ein Harod, in the north of Israel, near Afullah. She was born in Poland. She was a child when the Nazis were rounding up the Jews, and her parents entrusted her to a Polish family who hid her and saved her life. Her entire family perished, but an aunt in Israel adopted her and today she is a happy woman with 4 children and 13 grandchildren, all living within a short distance of each other.
Later that evening at Flossie's house, her husband, Elie, brought out a bottle of Cabernet Franc, made by his cousin who has a phd in agriculture and is an acclaimed amateur winemaker. It was outstanding.
We're
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Almost 48 hours
If you have been eagerly awaiting my first blog from Israel, here it is. And the big news is that just after 24 hours in the country I bought my first pair of shoes, too beautiful to pass up, on sale. The line between need and want is very blurred.
I bought them as I was already laden down with the freshest of fruits and vegetables bought at the Carmel Market, the oldest outdoor market in Tel Aviv, in a marginal part of the city now becoming revitalized. The market is a wonderful feast for the senses. Such a display of food, all home grown or home made. Shoppers from all over: Israelis, both Arabs and Jews, Africans, Asians, North Americans, Europeans. Vendors too. I bought spices from Michel who's from Tashkent, Smoked fish from Asher from Georgia, the shoes from Yossi from Iran. That's the thing about Israel. Almost everyone is from somewhere else, coming here in the search of new beginnings and a better life.
It poured in the middle of the night. I thought of Noah and the flood. Coming from Vancouver heavy rain is not an unusual experience for me, but I guess being in Israel puts me in a biblical frame of mind.
Today my friend, Helen and I are going to walk along the Tayelet, the paved walk along the Mediterranean to the old port city of Jaffa, about a half hour walk, on the hunt for great food, and adventures. I am resolved not to buy any more shoes, at least not today. One day at a time I say.
I bought them as I was already laden down with the freshest of fruits and vegetables bought at the Carmel Market, the oldest outdoor market in Tel Aviv, in a marginal part of the city now becoming revitalized. The market is a wonderful feast for the senses. Such a display of food, all home grown or home made. Shoppers from all over: Israelis, both Arabs and Jews, Africans, Asians, North Americans, Europeans. Vendors too. I bought spices from Michel who's from Tashkent, Smoked fish from Asher from Georgia, the shoes from Yossi from Iran. That's the thing about Israel. Almost everyone is from somewhere else, coming here in the search of new beginnings and a better life.
It poured in the middle of the night. I thought of Noah and the flood. Coming from Vancouver heavy rain is not an unusual experience for me, but I guess being in Israel puts me in a biblical frame of mind.
Today my friend, Helen and I are going to walk along the Tayelet, the paved walk along the Mediterranean to the old port city of Jaffa, about a half hour walk, on the hunt for great food, and adventures. I am resolved not to buy any more shoes, at least not today. One day at a time I say.
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