A New Week, A New Look

It’s Sunday, the first day of the week here in Israel. The weekend spans Friday afternoon through Saturday night, then it’s back to business as usual. It’s nice to have that little oasis of calm every week, however brief. The busses stop and the stores are closed, though some cafes and restaurants remain open. The art museum is open (with children’s activities making it a popular place for families) and there are concerts and other cultural activities as well. We see a lot of extended families together, especially on Shabbat, but also during the week when we see bubbes wheeling strollers or picking up children from school. Given that the birthrate is not so high here, we are seeing a surprising number of babies and, of course, they are all adorable. Some examples from friends and relatives have reinforced our impression that family is very important. For example, Atar lives in the small community where her husband grew up and his parents live nearby. Her father-in-law picks up her three year old from preschool and keeps him until she returns from work. Tsipi, our neighbor across the hall, frequently has her grandchildren and children traipsing in and out. Rekefet, the young assistant at Sheatufim, told Lew that she and her husband barely know how to cook because her mother-in-law brings them food constantly. When I told my cousin Ruthie that Gregory would be in Buenos Aires this semester and that Rachel lives in Washington, she laughed with disbelief in her voice and said, “that’s how it is in America,” which I assumed meant that we are all scattered to the winds (which of course we are at the moment). Meanwhile, for those who can afford it, many people depend on Filipino women for child and elder care. In the park we see groups of older people in wheel chairs with their Filipino caretakers, the Filipino women visiting amongst themselves while their charges socialize and enjoy the sunshine. Also on the subject of domestic help, Lew reported a conversation amongst the young women staffers the the office about difficulties getting their husbands to share the housework. They expressed a familiar mantra, “I tell him something needs to be done but he doesn’t see it!” After asking Lew for his suggestions (!), one of the women chimed in with the solution, “Get a Filipino.” I’m very curious about how this particular conduit for immigrant workers developed.

Meanwhile we continue to explore the city. I am in love with HaYarkon park where I can run or walk for miles past open expanses and through groves of eucalyptus, palms, and olive trees towering above emerald green carpets of grass and groundcover. In the distance rise the new high towers of the bustling city, seen especially well from a hill with an unobstructed panorama. The main path is helpfully divided into two lanes, one for bike riders/roller bladers and the other for pedestrians, though not everyone obeys the rules. Passing me are hand-holding couples, young and old, groups of kids—sometimes in their scout uniforms, joggers of every age, parents wheeling strollers, and pairs of walkers deep in conversation. I am particularly fond of two grey haired gentlemen, perhaps in their early sixties, I see in the late afternoon. They are wearing shorts with matching long sleeved white t-shirts and talking animatedly while vigorously striding along at a fast clip. I observe all this as I bop along to the Temptation and the Four Tops or mellow out with Thelonius Monk on my Ipod and life is grand.

Speaking of Ipods. I am listening to a beautifully read novel at the moment (available in print as well, of course). The book, “The Clothes on Their Backs,” was short-listed for the Man Booker prize last year. The author, Linda Grant, a 57 year old novelist and journalist, was born in Liverpool to Russian/Polish immigrants. This book, set in London in the 1970’s, tells the story of a young woman in her twenties who uncovers the secrets of her immigrant parents’ former lives in Hungary through her hidden contact with a disreputable uncle from whom her parents have attempted to shield her. I also recommend another of Grant’s novels, “When I Lived in Modern Times,” which takes place in Tel Aviv in the late 40’s and describes the early years of the state of Israel (I think this book received the Orange Prize). She also has written a travelogue about Tel Aviv, “The People on the Street,” which I haven’t read yet.

With the war in Gaza winding down, the elections here are heating up. During the conflict all campaigning was temporarily stopped but now its back to politics as usual. We are following the best we can by reading the newspapers (Ha’Aretz and Jerusalem Post in English; I have Ha’Aretz as my home page). Unfortunately, the more hardline Likkud party (Netanyahu) seems to be destined to win the most seats. Although we didn’t hear a great deal of dissent during the heat of the Cast Lead operation, we did read some interesting exchanges and editorials that raised issues about the efficacy and conduct of the Gaza operation. If you are interested, I recommend you check out the exchange between A.B. Yehoshua (contemporary Israeli novelist) and Gideon Levy (journalist), and additional editorials by David Grossman (another novelist) and the recent column by Levy (“Twilight Zone, The Next Step”, on the Ha’Aretz website. If you read these and the comments that are posted in response you will get a good idea of the tensions in the debate here. On his website www. Gregmargolis.com, Gregory has put some of his reflections on the issues with links to columns he has found thought-provoking.

No matter what your view, one can only be dismayed by the lack of vision in the leadership. Where are the young leaders? Atar, who previously directed a community development organization in Carmiel that promoted dialogue with the Israeli Arab population, was very unhappy that none of the speakers at the conference on civil society we attended mentioned anything about empathy for Palestian casualties while expressing the usual support for the troops. She says that some of her Arab friends from her previous job are reluctant to come to events sponsored by Sheatufim because they are afraid they will not be welcome, a situation which disturbs her. During the conflict, the government tried to ban Arab parties from the election but the Israeli courts said this was illegal. Tel Aviv feels like a bit of a bubble, away from the more in-your- face conflict in the south, Jerusalem and the West Bank, and the northern border. Yet, the entire perimeter of Tel Aviv University is encircled with fencing and there is controlled access through turnstiles and gates manned by security guards. Also, in the middle of the city, directly across the street from the cultural center of the city (the art museum and the opera/theater complex) and the a few blocks from the Tel Aviv medical center, is the fenced off compound which houses the headquarters of the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces).

Back to more mundane observations/experiences:
A message from me would be incomplete without some mention of food! On evening last week we were strolling down Dizengoff St. in the heart of the city when the most incredibly enticing aroma wafted our way. We were literally led by our noses to a small shop from which emerged a line of patiently waiting customers. In the window a young woman was rolling out dough, cutting it into strips, and linking these strips in a continuous chain around a cylinder with a long handle. After brushing these with what I assumed was butter, she put them in an oven. When finished and taken off the cylinders what emerged were beautiful hollow tubes of exquisite tasting pastry, some flavored with cinnamon, others with chocolate and halva or other goodies. Crispy, hot and chewy, this Hungarian rugelah is sensational! For a good description and some pictures, go to www.kurtosh. co.il. Of course, the best part of the story comes next. We were given our prize after waiting our turn, told to let it cool in the open bag and then transfer it to another plastic bag and tie it closed with a bit of ribbon we were given. We left the shop and decided to catch a bus home. As we were nearing our neighborhood we determined that the pastry tube had cooled sufficiently so we started to ease it out of one bag into the other one, trying not to crush it. In the middle of this delicate operation I happened to glance over to the window ledge where I saw an intrepid cockroach scouting his territory.
Luckily we completed our transfer without mishap and at that moment reached our stop and exited the bus. With any crumbs we left behind, I say to the cockroach, “B’tayavon” (good appetite!).

Finally, here is the story of my new look. I decided I needed my hair cut and the color refreshed. Strolling the streets I saw many, many small hair salons, some looking very fancy, others full of older ladies. Walking around I’ve noticed a lot of women with bright red hair, sometimes tinged with purple undertones and sometimes veering towards orange. I was pretty sure I didn’t want that look. At random I walked into Sharon Chen’s small place on Yehuda HaMaccabbi, the main business street near our neighborhood. Sharon, the young man who owns the salon took me in hand and, with the Israeli confidence I mentioned in my last installment, decided he knew exactly what I needed. His lovely tall blonde assistant (probably Russian) applied the rich, brown color (“not too dark, I pleaded”) and, after I agreed I wanted “short” hair but “not too weird,” he spent about 45 minutes meticulously sculpting my head, leaving me with about 1” of hair or less all around. Actually, I’m very happy with how it feels and how little care it takes! Take a look and let me know what you think. Also check out new pictures on flickr (www.com/photos/linda-lew).

On Wednesday I’m off to Haifa to meet the director and some other folks in the Haifa office of Shatil, the training and support branch of the New Israel Fund. They are going to introduce me to some of their projects and explore what organization might be able to use some volunteer assistance from me. Next week, we’ll be going to Jerusalem to visit my friend Ruth, with whom I was on ulpan as a teenager 44 years ago. She is a former journalist who also works for Shatil. She is particularly interested in the challenges facing Ethiopian immigrants in Israel. She has arranged for us to visit to a music and dance conservatory where she started a scholarship program to enable Ethiopian kids to attend. She is also raising money to enable Ethiopian high school students to join their classmates on a trip to Poland to learn about the Holocaust and she is making a film about the derivation of Ethiopian names. I will send two letters describing these endeavors. I’ll have more information after we spend time with her in Jerusalem.

Well, time to stop for now. It’s lunchtime and I’m starving. The huge chunk of manchego cheese I bought from a vendor in the middle of the fancy Azrieli shopping center with the beautiful atrium (why there? Don’t ask!) awaits me, as does the fresh pita we purchased on our return trip to the HaCarmel shuk.