Two weeks left

There's a well known Rabbi in town, Beryl Wein, who has a lecture series on Saturday nights in the winter. We've attended several in the years we've been coming here for an extended stay. The topic this year is 100 years later - how World War 1 continues to affect the world and the Jewish people today. I wish we were staying longer (for all kinds of reasons) to be able to hear all 10 lectures. He's a very good speaker, another one who doesn't use notes which seems to be de rigueur around here. 

As our time here winds down I've had to pack a lot of things into the calendar that I've more or less put off. This week it was getting together with Timna, an American-Israeli friend from Chicago who came back to Israel after 20+ years in the States. We met for coffee and then went to a play that a co-worker was in. The play, surprisingly well written and acted by an amateur theatre group, touched all the points on the emotional scale. 

Everyone knows The Hunt for Red October. This week it was The Hunt for Colonia. The first question is: what is Colonia? I've been hearing about it for years. It's supposed to cure everything. My friends swear by it. It heals cuts and bruises. It helps an upset stomach. It's good for aching joints. Etc. If it's such a great product you'd think you could find it everywhere. Actually not. There is one little hole-in-the-wall store in Tel Aviv that sells it. So on Wednesday Batsheva and I hopped on a bus to Tel Aviv (the sleazy part) for a little shopping trip. 

Tel Aviv has two central bus stations - the old one and the new one. Duh. The old one is really something to see. In its heyday, which wasn't so long ago, it was a destination in itself. It's 6 stories tall and was essentially a big shopping mall with a bus depot attached. Unfortunately it's in an unfortunate part of town. Up till a couple years ago there were a lot of homeless squatters who made camp in a park outside the station. It's not the sort of place you'd want to walk around at night. But during the day it's fine, and that's where the Levinsky Market is. The market neighborhood used to be mostly Turkish, and that's where you go for authentic Turkish products, of which Colonia is one. Then it was a matter of finding the shop. We looked into a couple of the small stores, and finally had to ask someone. Where can we buy Colonia? Everyone knew, of course. Go to the shop next to the bakery.  

The shop owner was typical of the small businessmen of a generation that I thought died out a long time ago. Surly. Unfriendly. But he was the Colonia guy, so you just have to put up with him. We asked for 8 one litre bottles. He had 7 on the shelf. He tried to sell us one of the larger bottles. We said no, we want 8 of litre size. He made a big show of looking for an 8th bottle and then miraculously, on the shelf below, he found an entire carton full one one litre bottles. We had to bargain, of course. After all we were buying in bulk. So he agreed to lower the price by 2 and a half shekels, to 35 shekels per bottle. 

Levinsky Market in the sleazy part of town

The shop, the ONLY shop, that sells Colonia.
Behind the owner is a shelf full.
The only other things he sells are large cans of anchovies, lots of olives
and some smoked and pickled fish.

From Levinsky we went to another market, the famous Carmel Market. It was a quick bus ride away. We walked around for a while and then went to get something for lunch at a great Yeminite restaurant called Mangana.

Busy, bustling Carmel Market

After lunch we made our way to the new bus station and caught the bus back to Jerusalem. Fortunately the traffic flowed and we got to Jerusalem at 430PM, a bit later than I wanted because I had to meet my friend Bevie at Hebrew University for a harp concert that started a 5. Traffic was pretty congested so I hopped in a taxi. We went a couple of blocks and then it was a parking lot. Traffic jams in Jerusalem are legendary, and this was epic. Long story short, I got there with 5 minutes to spare. The concert was lovely. It was the first time I'd seen a harp played from up close. Who knew there were foot pedals?

Hanukkah starts Sunday night. On Monday everyone is coming over here. I should think about what to make. On Wednesday we're going to Madrid, not something I'd recommend in the winter. But Batsheva is turning 70 and instead of a party she wanted to go abroad. I don't think she cared about the destination. No one consulted me; I would have said somewhere warm-ish like Greece, Sicily, Malta or Cyprus. The kids decided on Madrid, which is what happens when the kids are in charge. I'm not taking my laptop to Spain, so next week's post will be delayed by a few days.

Shabbat shalom and Hanukkah sameach from Jerusalem,
Peggy and Sid

Connections, Culture and Cocktails

Busy week ...

Started the week (Sunday and Monday) by going to our regular classes. After the Monday class I had lunch with my friend Bevie, who I've known for close to 50 years. And she looks almost the same as she did back then. It was supposed to be a quick lunch because she had things to do, but as usual when we get together it's not less than 3 hours. On the way to lunch we popped in for a quick tour of the new Ibis Hotel that (finally) opened on Ben Yehuda Street. It, like most things in Israel, has been under construction for years longer than it should have been. 

We had a bat mitzvah on Tuesday night. Naturally I couldn't show up without a visit to my hairdresser, Nabil. I met Batsheva at the salon, we both had our hair done and then went to lunch. Another 3 hour event.

By their head covering shall you know them. There are a number of communities on the spectrum of orthodoxy here. Most of our friends are modern orthodox, known in the vernacular as "kipa srgua" (knitted kipa). Just as it sounds, the men wear crocheted kipas and many of the married women cover their hair with scarves or hats, sometimes but not always. Women in this group are usually more participatory in religious activities, but not at the same level as men. (Feminist alert: You are not a man and never will be. There is no such thing as "gender neutral". Get over yourselves.) The idea of having a bat mitzvah for girls is fairly recent. Because girls don't participate in the same way boys do, a bat mitzvah is usually just a party, reminiscent of a sweet 16. Still this is a way to acknowledge that at age 12 girls are excepted to take on the role of an adult Jewish woman.

We went to the bat mitzvah of the granddaughter of good friends of ours from Chicago. I love these events. It's not about the party, it's about continuity. Another generation assuming the role of a Jewish adult. Of course, there is context. The grandfather is a survivor of multiple concentration camps. For him to see his grandchildren living in Israel, growing up religious, maintaining the values, practices and traditions, has a meaning that far exceeds the usual grandparents' and parents' nachas (pride). 

Proud parents Miryam and Eli, with bat mitzvah daughter Yael

Saba (grandfather) and Yael

Batia and Arnold

The culture part of this week's post was on Wednesday afternoon.  We've seen the permanent exhibits at the Israel Museum a thousand times; unless there's a special exhibit we usually don't go. This time there were four. We spent the whole afternoon there, which tested the limits of endurance. The exhibits were excellent, spanning archaeology, mythology, literature, clothing, photography and video.

We had lunch yesterday with Doris and Norm, friends from Chicago who are literally the accidental immigrants. They came on a visit a couple years ago and never went back. A health issue occurred that made it pretty much impossible for Norm to travel. They were fortunate to have people who cleaned out and sold their home, and shipped the items they wanted to keep. We got together with them during our last visit (summer 2018). They looked fantastic then, and continue to do so. They have a great apartment, kids, grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren who keep tabs on them, and have never been happier. They are both in their 90's and have been married 72 years. 

After visiting Norm and Doris, we went to our friend Ida's for cocktails. She's a great cook and hostess and has delightful friends. A wonderful way to unwind.

Ida with Jeff and Diane

Self explanatory

Ida with Sam and Debra

Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem,

Peggy and Sid

Another calendar page turns over ...

Well here it is December and I'm mentally counting down the days we have left. Then I look at my to-do list to see how many things I can squeeze in and I'm starting to realize just  how little time that is. Considering we will be in Spain (more about that in an upcoming post) for a week at the end of the month, we only have 3 weeks netto, as they say here.

Besides joining a gym, I've been busy training with Shefa and my original krav maga teacher, Moshe. We met on Tuesday at a large public park, Gan Sacker, and trained outside, Yes, it was that warm. We trained for 3 hours, split between learning the finer points of momentum and leverage and disarming guns and knives. Very cool stuff.

Learning to push off an attacker.

It's hard to see, but that yellow thing is a gun. A training gun.

On Wednesday we went to Tel Aviv to meet Dori and Itzik, her bf, for lunch. We took the train and it was very quick and efficient. Once we got to Tel Aviv we had to take a local bus to the Carmel Market to meet Dori. The hardest part of the transportation was locating the bus stop. The train station is connected to the bus station by a bridge that goes over a major highway, so they are more or less together, which solves the confusion of two weeks ago when Sid went back to Sar-el. They have done a lot of renovations, but someone forgot to tell them to make signage for the buses. The bus parking lot is huge. The bus stop signs are small. I asked a driver where the #18 bus was and he replied, in typical Israeli fashion, over there. So we walked "over there", and finally found it. The rest was a piece of cake. We met at Erez Hatemani, one of the hole in the wall restaurants in the Yeminite Quarter, which used to be a slum and is now prime real estate. Location, location, location. It's very close to the beach and the Bauhaus neighborhood.  We sat outside; yes, it was that warm. It's always interesting to talk to young Israelis about their plans for the future, which usually include a several-months break before settling down to the working world. This, of course, is after the several-months post-army trip. I'm all for it. If you don't do it when you're young by the time you get around to it you're too old. These trips involve hiking, backpacking, hitchhiking. camping, hostels and local buses. 

After lunch Sid and I went to Liebling Haus, a new museum in the Bauhaus neighborhood. It opened in September with a special exhibit called Transferumbau (Transfer Agreements), which was the name of a program between 1933-1939 that made it possible to get some assets out of Germany. This is a little-known chapter of the pre-War Holocaust. Jews who had the foresight and means to get out of Germany and go to the Mandate were prohibited from taking assets with them. A program was set up between the German government and the Jewish Agency whereby Jews could sell assets, deposit them in a bank, and purchase construction materials with those funds. While Liebling Haus was being renovated walls that through time had been plastered over and floors that had been re-tiled were uncovered. Lo and behold German building materials from the 1930's were uncovered: wall and floor tiles manufactured by Villeroy & Boch, plumbing fixtures, doorknobs, building materials etc made by other German companies. The curators mounted photographs of the two families that lived in the building, along with photographic collages of the rehab work. A small and highly personal account of two families who were forced by circumstances to flee the homeland they loved, where they had lived for generations to a hot, dusty, primitive city where they didn't know the language or customs, but knowing they were among the lucky ones who got away with their lives and at least some of their possessions and assets.

Getting ready for an overnight guest and candles are in 15 minutes.

Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem,

Peggy and Sid

Giving Thanks

I'm often asked about Thanksgiving in Israel. Do people know what it is? Is it celebrated? Can you get turkey? Cranberry sauce? Pumpkin pie?

One thing is for sure. Israelis might not know about Thanksgiving, but they know about Black Friday. It's caught on here, without the insanity of stores being open for 24 hours starting at midnight or whatever the shopping hours are. When I explain to Israelis what Black Friday in the U.S. is like they are incredulous. Who waits in line for hours just to get a TV at a bargain price? Who shops at 3AM? Who fights over the last microwave? Because Shabbat starts at 4PM, Black Friday extends at least until Sunday and possible longer. 

Thanksgiving, being the consummate American holiday, is celebrated by most Americans here. Traditionalists celebrate on Thursday, but a lot of people move the menu to Friday, celebrating both Shabbat and Thanksgiving with one meal. One of the hotels in Jerusalem has been putting on a big spread with all the traditional food for decades. I went once with an American friend when I lived here. Back then the food wasn't anywhere near the quality that it is today. I don't remember how good the dinner was; what I do remember is that it was a big splurge for a taste of home. 

On a per capita basis, Israelis are the biggest consumers of turkey in the world. But the idea of a whole turkey is a foreign concept. Back in the day, no one had an oven large enough to accommodate a whole turkey. Now it's a matter of who makes a whole turkey? Even in religious homes with large families, people make half turkeys or parts. So how is it that Israelis manage to eat so much? Shwarma (similar to gyros), schnitzel and smoked. 

Since we've been coming to Israel for an extended stay, we've celebrated Thanksgiving here 3 times. The first time was during our first visit in 2013 when the apartment we rented didn't have an oven at all, and only a 2-burner cooktop. I made a half turkey in a toaster oven. My fear was that it would burn on the outside and be raw on the inside. Fortunately it came out fine. 2013 was also the year that Hanukkah and Thanksgiving coincided, a confluence that won't take place for another 10,000 years. Literally. When I mentioned this to the butcher he looked at me with a blank stare, waiting for me to make the point. So to answer the first question above, not everyone knows what Thanksgiving is. Interestingly, in subsequent Thanksgiving years, when I tell the butcher I'm going to need something in November he says yes, a whole turkey. 

Cranberries and pumpkin are another matter. Pumpkin is grown here and used extensively in soups, couscous and stews. But pies are another matter. Pie is almost unknown, in spite of the American influence over food (peanut butter is very popular and locally manufactured) and the number of similar foods such as samosas and bourekas which come from a variety of food traditions. Cranberries can't be grown here but they are available in dried form. I'm not sure if soaking dried cranberries and attempting to make them into something approaching the cranberry sauce we're used to would work. Word on the street is that there's a store in one of the more Anglo neighborhoods that has all kinds of vital American canned goods. Two years ago one of our guests managed to find cranberries. This time I wasn't taking chances so I brought a can from home, but I wasn't going to try making a pumpkin pie because I don't know how it would work with the local parve cream. 

Every Thanksgiving has been different. Last night there were 6 of us. Two old friends, one new friend and a total stranger. Lots of food, laughs, stories and gratitude. 

When you don't have a rolling pin you just have to improvise

It's a good size kitchen

Thinking ahead I brought a can of cranberries. It got mangled by baggage handling.
Think about this the next time you check luggage.

This was a 7 kilo bird. It cooked in 2 hours. Nothing like fresh turkey.

Moshe, who is shorter than I am, attempted a table shot.

Shefa, Moshe, Sid

Shira and Nechlia

The aftermath

Hope your Thanksgiving was as nice and memorable as ours was.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,

Peggy and Sid

You're in the army now ...

Unlike the US (and probably most countries) that has separate military branches, Israel has one army with 3 sectors: the "regular" army (infantry, armor, paratroops, intelligence, special forces etc), the navy and the air force.

The highlight of last week was watching our grandson Nir being inducted into the air force following 3 months of basic training. The ceremony took place at the Kotel; there can be no better place. We had the best seats in the house. There's an event space on the second floor above the Kotel plaza and Yafit, who heads the parents' group for Nir's section, reserved it for a party. There's always a party.

We got to the Kotel early and watched the rehearsal, then went upstairs. It was very emotional, watching these 18 year old kids and hearing them take their oath with the Kotel in the background. Something else that is unique in Israel. When they are sworn in they get both a rifle (M16) and a Tanach. The message is clear: this is what you're fighting for and this is what you're fighting with.

This story is best told in pictures:

Getting ready

Places, everyone, places!

The sign says "Combat Soldiers Induction"

"

Everyone is where they're supposed to be

What's a party without friends and family?

Who doesn't look good in uniform?

Nir wasn't the only one to go into the army. Sid started his two-week stint in Sar-el on Sunday. I wanted to check out the train from Jerusalem to the airport which is where the group assembled. The ride was quick (20 minutes) and on time. Most of the the route goes through a series of tunnels, which is why it took so long to build. Blasting through bedrock takes time. He was assigned to the same base where he's been serving for the past 7 years, packing medical supplies. He's home for Shabbat, which starts in an hour.

More next week.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,

Peggy and Sid

Something New

We did a couple of things this week that were new, proving that no matter how much time you spend in Jerusalem there are always new things to discover.

On Sunday we went to Ammunition Hill, scene of one of the toughest battles of the Six Day War. Bill, Jane and Sid insisted that the 4 of us went there on a previous visit (23 years ago), but I have zero recall. Whether I was there or not, the site has been completely redone so it was new for all of us.

I've said this before and I'll say it again: no one does museums like the Israelis. First there is a film using original footage of the Six Day Way, particularly the 2-1/2 day battle for Jerusalem, and interviews with soldiers who participated. Then we went to the exhibit itself, which was very hard to find because the signage was terrible, also very Israeli. It's a self guided tour with automated commentary. No buttons to push; the sound starts and stops as you go through. The narration puts you right into the battles, with original sound tracks recorded during the fighting, as well as background interviews and descriptions. They got the fog of war exactly right, by using gauze over original films and sketches and drawings that morphed according to what was being described. 

When we arrived at the museum there were several groups of soldiers. What struck me immediately was that none of them had ranks. At first I thought they were in basic training, but when one of the soldiers, a paratrooper, struck up a conversation and I saw his wings, I knew these weren't recruits. So I asked who they were and what they were doing at the museum. He told me they come from all branches of the army and are training to be medics. The army is big on taking soldiers on tours, and you see groups all over the place all the time. It reinforces patriotism; you have to know what you're fighting for. And in the case of these future medics you need to understand what combat is all about, something this museum does very well. 

Some of the soldiers waiting for their tour to begin

A platoon under an olive tree

Soldiers are like interns. They take cat naps wherever and whenever they can.

Sid, Tamar, me, Bill, Jane having another small world encounter. Tamar, a docent at the museum, lived in Chicago for a year and worked at Akiba Schechter Day School with our daughter Jessica.

On Monday we did something I've been wanting to do for years. We went to a couple of wineries in the Judean Hills. The reason I've put it off is because I won't drink and drive, and you can't get to wineries on the bus. Two couple friends of Bill and Jane's happen to be in Israel now, and they are wine aficionados. They arranged for a van and driver to take us to two wonderful wineries and was it ever an education.

Once upon a time if anyone offered a glass of Israeli wine you would say no thanks. It was like that with food as well. That was then. In the past 30 or so years both food and wine have come a very long way and Israel is considered a foodie destination. Uri Buri in Akko was voted one of the top 25 in the world by TripAdvisor (so take it with many grains of salt). Even more impressive, Israel has 13 restaurants on La Liste, which can actually be taken seriously. It ranks # 21 out of 64 countries, putting it in the top third. 

The Judean Hills are an ideal place to grow wine, as it was during Biblical times according to the sources. Twenty years ago there were only 30 wineries in the Judean Hills. Today there are 400 and counting. Fun fact: there are more words in Hebrew for anything associated with wine than in any other language. The vintners are taking steps to become a terroir (an identifiable geographic location whose soil, sunshine and climate have an effect on the taste of the finished produce) and appellation  (the place of origin). The last time Israel had an appellation was in the 1950's for Jaffa oranges. This should take some of the guesswork out of the EU's campaign to blackball Israeli wines by labeling them as products of the so-called "west bank" as they just voted to do.

The first winery was Nevo, named for the owner, located on Moshav Matta. It's really a boutique, not like some wineries that call themselves boutique. They opened in 2002 and produce 12,000 bottles a year, mostly reds. Everything is done by hand (including harvesting the grapes at night) and under Nevo's strict supervision. We tasted a Merlot and a Cabernet, both 2017, both excellent.  They only sell direct to the public; you can't find them in hotels, restaurants or stores. For wine connoisseurs (and you know who you are) the website is nevowinery.com.

The tasting was accompanied by bread which had been baked in a wood stove at the winery, olive oil which they also produce, and cheese from a boutique cheesery in the Negev. The name of the cheesery is Mashkochit, which is the word for the lead sheep or goat in a herd who wears a bell. And I thought German was precise.

The 8 of us with Nevo, before the tasting. 

Nevo, the owner

Sharon, who led the tasting. She's a walking encyclopedia of wine and wine making

We had a whole course on wine before they poured the first bottle

The Cabernet and Merlot we bought

From Nevo we continued to Flam. They are a much larger capacity winery, producing 170,000 bottles a year, 70% of which are exported. Although far from a boutique, they are family owned and operated. We tasted a 2017 Classico Red (many of their wines are blends), a 2017 Reserve Cabernet, a 2017 Reserve Syrah (a wine that gets way too little attention in my opinion), a 2018 Blanc and a 2018 Rose. There was of course bread, cheese and olive oil to accompany the wines.

Golan Flam, one of the brothers who operate the winery. 

Tamar, who led the tasting

The week continued to be busy, with enough material to carry over to my next post. Shabbat starts early in Jerusalem at 405PM, and it's getting close to that now.

Shabbat shalom from Jerusalem,
Peggy and Sid