Pump it

In England, when I was a teenager, it was always my job to wrangle the petrol pump at the self-service stations and it was a chore I enjoyed.

Fast forward to my life in Israel and even after self-service had began to take over from the full-service in the mid-nineties it was always my hubby who dealt with the petrol, after all, he is the driver.

This morning my mother requested my company when she went to pick-up my Dad from hospital (Thankfully, he is feeling fine.)

On the way we stopped to get petrol. Due to my mother's minimal amount of Hebrew, she has no chance of following the self-service instructions so she always pays extra for full service. Today she offered to 'get the man', but with determination and a little trepidation, I stepped up to the pump.

The instructions flashed on the screen and the only minor hiccup occurred when my mother had to scrabble in her bag for her ID card as she has yet to learn her ID number by heart.

Finally, the pump clicked off and I returned the nozzle to its position. Feeling a little ridiculous the sense of victory that surged through me I was also pleased to reflect that despite wifehood, motherhood and imminent middle age I had not become totally dependent and 'girlie'.

Procastinating is Fun

It is amazing the wonderful amount of things I am getting done in the name of procrastination. I will do anything except writing!

I normally do well on deadlines. Tell me, 'I need two thousand words by tomorrow!' and I will probably get it done. But a month is too much time. The laundry needs doing today and the meal needs to be ready in an hour, this letter needs posting, this email need answering. They all have deadlines less than a month away and therefore take priority over NaNoWriMo.
Suddenly we are nearing the end of the month and my motivation, and time, has evaporated. I am like a deer in the headlights - I know I should move but I just cannot seem to snap into action.

In contrast NaBloPoMo, with its daily deadline, is going OK. My posts are hardly great works of literature but I enjoy talking about my knitting, the weather and my life in general.
I am also enjoying the comments I received and my chosen procrastination for today is looking through some of my friends' blogs.

Tropical Screamer has two blogs. On one she blogs about her knitting, quilting, cats - life. On the other 'Tropical Screamer Writes', she is doing an excellent job journaling her writing for NaNoWriMo and seems to be well on her way to winning this year.
I am enjoying reading about her progress even if I am a little jealous.

Ponders of Two Guinea Pigs is a blog written by ... two guinea pigs. Everyday stories of their adventures and those of their mum. For some reason I am reminded of Beatrix Potter.
The photos are wonderfully colourful and clear. (How they hold the camera and press the buttons with those little paws and claws, I'm not sure!)
They are so cute and remind me of my lovely Pitzi Ephraim who passed at the beginning of the year.

In addition, Wiggley blogged about my music post!

Cello Centred is another blog that caught my attention today.
In this post maricello discusses readability and how to make your blog more accessible to others. I found her blog definitely accessible - a very pleasant and soothing read.
I loved the discussions of her music interspersed with her various other activities.

Toad in the Hole

For the English speaker in Israel there is much humour to be obtained from the appalling English so frequently encountered on signs and labels.

Finding the 'vegetal' sausages on special offer at the local supermarket inspired me to prepare
the very British and , normally, very non-kosher dish of Toad in the Hole.

Argh!

I looked in the mirror as I was brushing my hair today and I noticed not just one but several grey hairs!!!!

I suppose I should have been prepared - My mother has been going grey ever since I can remember and my husband even has a few grey hairs in our wedding photos, he was 23.

I suppose I will have to start behaving like a grown up now?
Maybe not!

Pita Party

Today my children were invited to a friend's party.

We started getting ready at 4pm, late afternoon but the sun was still shining. It was relatively cool outside but I was still concerned that I might be too warm in my long -sleeved shirt. I always forget just how cold it gets in winter once the sun disappears.

By the time we took the bus and started walking along the road to the party's location the sun was setting and it began to get cold.

The place we were heading for is called Taboon BeLul, which literally means Oven in a Chicken Coop.

The northern area of Naharia is still quite agricultural and most of the properties are still small holdings or small farms.

This particular farmer had turned his chicken shed into a location for holding children's parties. The large space was equipped with a kitchen and a play area decorated with rugs and colourful wall hangings. With sofas and chairs against the walls for waiting parents and tired children.

About 50 children turned up for the party and they got a little out of hand but there were people paid to take care of that. I sat on a sofa in the corner, gently sipping some wine and chatting with friends. However, we were sitting by the door and every time someone walked through the cold blasted in so soon we were wandering the room, edging closer to the warmth of the oven.

The main attraction of the 'lul' is the taboon which is a domed oven containing a flat metal plate over the open flame.

The children were all given balls of dough and rolling pins. They rolled out the dough into a vaguely circular shape. The 'pita' were then slapped on the hot plate where they cook quickly. On another table there was labane, za'atar or chocolate spread to put on the homemade pita.

Strange to think that when my father was growing up all his bread was cooked in a similar way.

The Sopranos meets .... well you'll see

[Hat tip to Jules on Facebook]

Podcasts - Israelisms

So what does a girl do when she first discovers podcasts?

Well in my case, I searched for all podcasts connected to Israel. There were about half a dozen at that time and I tried to listen to most of them but one of the first I started listening to and still listen to today is the Israelisms podcast.

Charley and Carol, with rare appearances from one of their daughters or a special guest, try to explain to the outside world just what life in Israeli is truly like.

Once a week they sit together to discuss whatever has cropped up in the news during the previous week interspersed with a sprinkling of personal and family news and the occasional anecdote highlighting the craziness that is life in Israel.

Carol careful explains the situation and then Charley puts forth his solution.

Sometimes they discuss the peace process however they also include other stories that rarely make the international new media but are just as important to Israelis, such as the newly formed Israeli baseball league and the teacher's' strike.

From time to time they agree, more often they don't but it is always fun to listen.

Whether you are a new immigrant, old immigrant, Israeli or not, or just someone interested in learning something more than a sound bite about this tiny Middle-Eastern that spends so much time in the news - this is the podcast for you.


edit: I nearly forgot something important - Carol is beautiful!

Daily Amusement

Today was hot yet again. So I spend another day trapped in the house, crouched over the computer screen, with hair as straight and as dry as straw as a result of washing my hair during the heat wave which is raging outside the closed windows.

As a stay-at-home Mum who works part time from home, I divide my time between the computer and housework.

I love cooking and don't mind laundry but cleaning and tidying is a punishment thought up by the devil and all chores can be boring when executed in silence.

As to my work: I am a bookkeeper. There are few things in life that give me more pleasure than reconciling accounts but due to years of experience and computer automation most of the work does not require the 100% participation of all my brain cells.

Television is no good as a distraction. I need my eyes for the computer screen while working and it would be a temptation too far for my self-discipline especially when competing with the dubious attractions of washing floors.

Radio could be an option except that endless pop music is not my thing and Israel talk radio does not appeal to me.

As always, my trusty computer came to the rescue. One day I was surfing the net searching, in vain, for the perfect RSS reader when I stumbled across podcasts.

After a short flirtation with ipodderx, iTunes became podcast friendly and I switched even though I have never owned a Mac or even an iPod.

Now I am subscribed to about 70 podcasts. Some have fallen by the wayside due to lack of time or lack of interest but there are still many gems that keep me company during the day.

If nobody objects (and even if they do - this is my blog after all :0) each week I will recommend a favourite.

Tomorrow I will return with my first recommendation.

So What Did You Do During The Ceasefire?

(Sorry this is late. I forgot to post it)

So now there is no background noise of artillery fire and we can walk freely outside.

On the first Sunday of the ceasefire my son’s classmate had a birthday. Her mother wanted to hold the party at the local beach. I thought it was a great idea but warned that other parents might still be nervous of an outside event.
The party was held in a local burger joint.
It was a surprise party and for once most people turned up in time and the birthday girl was truly surprised.

Of course just burgers are not enough, every party must have an entertainer. This guy introduced himself by explaining how pleased he was to be back working at children’s parties – he had spent the last month as an infantry solider in Lebanon.
He was a small, wiry guy with an animated expression and the birthday girl’s parents towered head and shoulders above him, the Dad was almost twice as broad.
It made for great comical effect when he asked the parents to help him blow up the balloons. They huffed and puffed to no avail then he bounced over and in a couple of quick breaths inflated each balloon. An opening gambit that had us all laughing.

After more balloons and some games he told the children of a night he’d spent in Lebanon. In the middle of nowhere carrying heavy equipment they had crouched under some bushes for cover while Israeli and Hizbollah fire crisscrossed the night sky above them. The blazing colours had, he claimed, inspired him to create a new game. The children liked the story and loved the game.

My children were quite tired when they got home. They have got out of the habit of socializing and find it quite tiring.

The Matnas (local community centre) arranged an activity program for the children in the morning of the first full week after the ceasefire. Sunday they just met up with their friends and on Monday there was a trip to Kfar Maccabbiah (home of the Jewish Olympics). Because the activity program was organised informally parents had to accompany the children for safety reasons. Oh the sacrifices we make for our children!

It was nice for once to be with my husband and not just alone with the children, especially as I showed my usual aptitude for choosing the bus with the slowest driver and the trip took forever.

Kfar Maccabbiah had invited groups from several towns in the north as well as from Sderot (main target for Qassams from Gaza) in the south. They were very organised. As we walked through the entrance they handed us a snack breakfast and the lead us to the area reserved for Shlomi. Our friends were already there (different bus) and had saved us seats. We also received Kfar Maccabiah T-shirts and caps in a Kfar Maccabiah bag.

There were hot and cold drinks on tap. We were supposed to received coupons for the snack but somehow that didn’t work out. It didn’t matter as there was a plentiful supply and the servers were easygoing. When the children rested between dashing around all the different pools they refreshed themselves with iced lollies and candyfloss.

We accompanied the children to couple of the pools but mostly we lazed around chatting with friends. There was a Jacuzzi which we were too hot to try but the Olympic pools was ‘adults only’ so we escaped to the calm and quiet and swam a few lengths in company of a large group of pensioners.

Lunch was also well organised. They arranged shifts called each town to eat by name. The food was laid out on tables buffet style with staff serving at the hot platters. There was a wide choice of food and it was tasty. Even though we piled our plates high we went back for seconds. After a month of bland army food my husband really enjoyed the spicy stir-fry noodles.

In the afternoon there was a performance by the stars of the children’s channel and a couple of pop stars. There was some highly amplified singing and an insane amount of bouncing around on stage.

Meanwhile the parents had a heated discussion about the failures and corruption of local government during the war. Stories communal to all of the inability to obtain food parcels while warehouses were packed full, trips to 5 star hotels that nobody knew about except those close to the Mayor, donated electronic goods that had never been distributed and the total disregard for the majority of the population stuck in security rooms. The more you hear the worse it gets. Children with special needs or health problems who were told that there was no relocation of any sort while donor organisations tell a totally different story of trips and relocations.

I thank everyone for being so generous but I think from now on organizations will have to supervise their assistance programs much more closely.

After the children’s show we all made our way to the buses. Again it was very organised with staff holding signs to direct us to those buses parked further away.

Once on the bus we received ‘supper’ – a fresh, delicious sandwich. They also distributed a goody-bag of sweets and snacks for each child.

I always prefer travelling in the dark but cannot understand why drivers insist on going through Yokeneam rather than straight through Haifa. Haifa traffic is heavy but only congested at rush hour and even on the new roads if you get stuck behind a semi-trailer in Yokeneam the journey can seem endless.

My mother claims it’s the scenic route but what is so scenic about flat, dusty fields, scrubby Arab villages and the occasional quarry or industrial area. The Haifa road parallels the coast and then winds through the shabby chic of the downtown port area. Even the shortcut my husband takes that leads through what was once the city landfill has now been beautifully landscaped.

Tuesday we had our congregation board meeting. We spent half the time discussing various initiatives to help members of our congregation deal with the aftermath of the war.

First order of business was to confirm that we had made the necessary repairs to the Matnas where we meet for Friday services. A katyusha had fallen in the yard damaging an aircon unit and some railings as well as shattering the windows. The Matnas is a government building but we had decided that the bureaucratic red tape would tie us up forever and so we took on responsibility for repairs. This ensures a quick return to normal services for us and we hope will build goodwill for the future.

The other half of the meeting was spent discussion preparations for Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year) which was, as usual, mildly contentious. There are also questions concerning whether we should relocate to accommodate the extra people. The rental of most locations answers that question for us.

We are again feeling the need for a building of our own but we need somewhere central with ground floor access and a central room big enough for services. Not so easy in Naharia.

On Thursday I picked up the children at 13:00 and we had just finished lunch when my friend phoned, “When do you think you will be here?”

It had totally skipped my mind that we had a project-funding meeting with the Director of the Reform Movement. Thankfully my friend had phoned early so I still had an hour to get ready before we needed to leave. We had arranged that my children would stay home with hers.

The meeting went reasonably well.

When we returned to my friend’s house we fed the children then my friend’s husband offered to drive us home; my friend’s daughter came with us as an overnight guest for my daughter.

My husband got home about 5 minutes before we did, the guys chatted while the children settled in and I watched a great Sci-Fi program.

My husband was at home for most of the week as the army had given him extra days to catch up on sleep before he returned to work. At work they were desperate for him to go back and he was greeted with great celebration when he returned on Thursday.

You would think that with the children at the Matnas and my husband at home to run errands I would have had plenty of time to work. But husbands, however pleasant they maybe, are time-consuming. They needing feeding and clothing and occasionally you have to talk with them and pay them some attention!

By the end of the week I had mountains of laundry. All I seemed to be doing was cooking and washing dishes, eating and keeping my hubby company as he consumed the news.

On Friday I had planned to take the children out but they were happily occupied with their guest and I was absolutely exhausted from doing nothing all week.

In the evening we went to services in the Matnas, through the newly repaired windows we could see the children playing in the courtyard and the shrapnel marks peppering the walls.

ES

The Water Park

I got up at the crack of dawn. OK so it was 5:30 am, which is when my husband always gets up, but I’m just not a morning person. It wasn’t so bad yesterday as I haven’t been sleeping so well. I wonder why?

The artillery was already going strong or maybe they hadn’t stopped all night.

I dressed, checked supplies for the trip and having said goodbye to my husband woke the children. They were too sleepy to eat much but I got them dressed without incident and at 6:50am we set off for the bus stop.

As usual we were the first to arrive. I positioned myself on the road to look out for the bus with the children close to the shelter, in case.

My daughter’s teacher arrived with a large suitcase and her son. After a day at the park they were staying in Tel Aviv. Her husband has to work so he will be at home taking care of the house and their dogs.

At 7am, when the bus should have already arrived, more people rolled up and there was quite a crowd when the bus finally put in an appearance at 7:15am

We drove on to the next shelter to pick up more people. And there we stuck. I have no idea what the problem was or if there really was any problem but people hovered outside and got on and off the bus. After half an hour something was resolved and we finally swung into action – only three quarters of an hour late!

The journey was reasonably uneventful with only light traffic. There was the obligatory pit stop that always takes longer than it should because some people have no sense of time (or just no sense) and can’t resist the urge to shop. This made a long journey even longer but the children were happy and had a school friend to play with.

When we got into Tel Aviv, and the inevitable traffic jams, we discovered that the driver had no idea where to go. He ended up asking directions from a passer-by in the Old Port. Of course we were going in totally the wrong direction so he had to phone the other drivers, who had already arrived. Finally we joined the long, slow queue to entrance.

We had been told lunch would be provided and when I inquired they said that there would be an announcement but they sounded a bit vague.

There was no one we really knew on our bus and the children were more eager to jump in the water than socialise so I found some chairs in the shade for our things. I was a little concerned about leaving our bags unattended although in an enclosed place like a water park they do a thorough security check at the entrance so there is not usual security panic connected with unaccompanied packages. I never take any valuables but losing my cell phone, particularly at this time, would be annoying. Normally we go to these places with my husband’s work and sit in an enormous group of friends and colleagues so there is always so one hanging around, resting.

Not that I got much rest this time. My son adored the wave pool so we went three times. At first we stood in the middle but the waves were quite gentle. We moved over to the side were the rise and fall was much more dramatic. The lifeguards were pacing up and down the side whistling constantly to insure that minor infringements of the safety rules didn’t become major incidents. There were bars on the side and my children hung from them like orang-utans I tried but it was too much strain on my biceps. I am always amazed at how strong and athletic my children are. Not my genes I’m sure.

There were several slides but my children were only interested in the ‘toboggan style’ and I guessed it was the only one suitable for my 7 yo son - he was just above the 120cm height restriction.

The queue was frighteningly long but moved pretty fast. One boy in front kindly informed us that the white run was fastest with red a close second. The blue was for scaredy cats and the infirm!

My son was in a brave mood and chose white, my daughter was perfectly happy with red and so I went blue.

I have been on several of these slides and they are great fun. Normally you can sit or lie flat to control your speed but here there were gallons of water making it too slippery to sit and it was fast. So fast that on the corners I almost flipped over. It was exhilarating but I was a little concerned that it might have been too exciting for my children. They were ecstatic and my son hardly paused for breath as he told me, and demonstrated with arm movements, how he had gone swoosh, swoosh and vroom vroom voom.

When lunchtime came I could hear plenty of announcements but none for us. However I did see people collecting food portions. I went on a look-see and found several worried people crouching over coolers: They had run out of food. There were a few portions left for the children but nothing for the adults. Whether more people came along than signed up or the person in charge had forgotten simple arithmetic, I didn’t stay to ask. I wasn’t really surprised.

Anyway the portions we received were adult-sized which was plenty between the three of us especially as my appetite is not up to par.

I also saw a woman I knew vaguely from the pool. She greeted me with a grin and started to chat about how they had had enough and relocated to Tel Aviv. I was a little confused so I asked whether it was happy coincidence she was here with every else from Shlomi. How naïve!

‘No,’ she told me, ‘the bus picked us up. When I heard about the trip I phoned the municipality and said “Don’t we deserve a little fun too?”’

Apart from being curious how she had heard about the trip from Tel Aviv when most people in Shlomi didn’t know, I had to bite back to urge to say ‘Well no, actually. These trips are not just as ‘a little fun’ but a breathing space for children stuck in shelters 24/7. Not for those who have gone to Tel Aviv have access to activity camps and can play outside and move around as freely as they wish.’ But I didn’t want to start a fight.

I wouldn’t have been so furious if the trips had been more openly advertised but unfortunately it seems Vitamin P is still a necessary supplement when dealing with Shlomi’s municipality.

(Vitamin P = protectzia i.e. it’s not what you know but who you know)

After lunch we investigated a pool I’d noticed on the other side of the park. This was an adventure pool. There was a tree-house style ‘island’ with slides, hidey-holes and water sprays. I particularly enjoyed the vertical sprays, which give a firm back massage.

On the way back for ice cream I found a friend wading cautiously into the wave pool. She is as myopic as I am and was without her glasses so I helped her spy out her daughter. She was also unimpressed with the organisation of the trip. She too had only found out about it by accident and had had to fight with them to sign her up. Then when the bus arrived they weren’t on the list and the bus organisers were all for leaving her and her two children behind. No chance!

She said her children have been on the slides about a dozen times and she highly recommended the inner tubes.

When we had sated ourselves with ice cream we stood in line for the inner tubes. It was a short slide and not as creative as the one at Luna Gal in Tiberius but it was fun. My skinny daughter ended up with a large tube, which she fell out of and she had to be assisted by one of the hundreds of staff looking after us all. Because I was heavier and lower in the water than everyone else I seemed to create twice as much splash.

After that I collapsed in a chair with my book while the children played in the spray pool nearby.

It was announced that the Shlomi buses would leave at 5:30pm so at 4:50 I got the children out of the pool and a little after 5pm we were ready to leave. I felt a little foolish being ready so early but an English childhood still conflicts with the Israeli habit of being late. We weren’t the first people on the bus but it was quite empty and we settled into our seats.

By the time the bus was set to leave there was another furore. For some inexplicable reason people had decided to play musical buses and almost everyone had chosen to travel with us. In addition some adults had decided they were tired and stretched out over two seats to sleep.

As a result, even though several passengers had stayed in Tel Aviv there was not enough room on our bus. The female soldiers in charge of the bus were very sweet but totally ineffective in sorting out the situation. One little boy had a total melt down and sulked all the way home while a couple of families moved over to the other half-empty buses.

We’d scarcely left Tel Aviv when the bus pulled in for a pit stop. It was decided we would only stay 10 mins for a bathroom break but some cocky teenage boys decided they were hungry and we spent half hour waiting for them. The driver wanted to leave them behind for the other bus that was taking a longer break but their mother wouldn’t let him even though she refused to go and hurry them up.

At least the driver made good time and we got home some time after eight o’clock: a little sunburnt, rather tired but, despite all the craziness, very happy.

ES

Tales from The Big Orange

I write this as we laze on Yafo (Jaffa) beach. The children are in the water under the watchful eye of my husband while we sit in the shade of a sun umbrella purchased several years ago but unused until today.

We set off at 8am and arrived in Tel Aviv before 10am. The view of the sea from the coastal road is always soothing and we arrived at the beachfront in good spirits.

The promenade was teeming with people and the beach sprouted umbrellas. We were so fascinated that by the time we started trying to park we were up near Yafo. We realised that somehow neither of us had ever been to Yafo and decided that now was the time.

In the entrance to the port there was a parking space just our size and when we lent over the sea wall there was a sparsely populated stretch of beach.

A refreshing breeze cooled us as we strolled into the port. In some ways it is better renovated than Acco with some rather luxurious looking residences in the old stones houses, the Moorish arches facing the sea. But it is mainly a working port for the fishermen and rather run down.

On one side of the narrow entrance there are old stone buildings with decorative balconies and arches. Facing is a government office of ugly, brutish concrete.

The port itself is full of fishermen and older people sitting on numerous park benches jammed against the buildings. In one corner there are also some functional tables.

Along the length of the wharf is a warehouse sided with corrugated metal that has been eaten into holes by rust. My children play hide and seek with the kittens living within this rusty labyrinth.

It looks boarded up and unused, an eyesore.

The water in the port is incredibly green, phosphorescent and we wonder if it is algae or some chemical reaction. The children spy some minnows attacking a floating slice of bread.

By the time we have taken a few photos my son is complaining of hunger and we return to the car. Some spicy sausage revives us all then we hang towels over the car windows so we can change modestly.

Now we are on the beach. The day has become hotter and more people have discovered the beach but there is still a pleasant breeze and the beach is still uncrowded. Supremely important is the water: wavy but not too violent, warm enough to caress but not bath-water. And I think I shall go for another dip.

ES