Archive for July, 2007
July 16th, 2007 by elie
Why did I move to the “Holy Land,” seeking Jewish freedom, if what that means is that a Harry Potter book release party is still going to take place on a Friday night and I can’t even use Shabbat day to read it?
In other news, I did place an order for my very own copy at Steimatzky… Come the end of Shabbat next week, I had straight to the mall and do not resurface in public until I know who lives and who dies. That’ll probably be Sunday morning. I’m like that.
July 16th, 2007 by elie
Join Standing Together Wednesday July 18th
We will be visiting Sderot, viewing the damage, supporting the shops and meeting the children and adults who remain in this forsaken city.
Tour the city and see damage cause by rockets,
Shop in Sderot stores to help the shopkeepers remain open,
Eat lunch at the Yeshivat Hesder Sderot and see what they are doing to help,
Distribute treats to children in camps and adults trying to hold on to what little they have.
Bus leaves Jerusalem at 9AM; will return approximately 3PM
75 shekel includes lunch and transportation
With enough participants we can also add bus stops in
Bet Shemesh and/or Gush Etzion
Email info@stogether.org for reservations
Not in ISRAEL? You Can Still Participate!
Sponsor the treats we are distributing to the Sderot Residents.
Email us to deliver.
Click for more ideas of how to help
July 14th, 2007 by elie
It’s one of the first things you learn when entering into Israeli drinking culture: Israelis have the chaser all wrong.
A chaser is something you swallow after you’ve just ingested a stronger drink. That means, if you’ve just had a tequila, a lemon is a complement of a chaser. If you’ve downed a whiskey (and you’re amateur) beer might be a good chaser. If you’ve knocked back cheap vodka, anything that isn’t cheap vodka would be a great option for a chaser.
However, Israelis must have misunderstood when the drinking fairy came to town. Because, to Israeli bars, a chaser is a shot of the stronger liquor. A package deal at an Israeli bar is getting a half-liter of beer (strong?) with a chaser of… whiskey.
On Thursday night I was out with two guys who both ordered the package deal and who both downed the ‘chaser’ first, as it was meant to be. We subsequently wondered if the Israeli waitress thought they were backwards.
Then, today, I see this ad in the paper (notice the last line at the bottom):
Aye, Dublin; you do not live up to your name. Who EVER needs to chase a Guinness???
They may want to hang this reminder behind the bar:
Beer before liquor,
never been sicker.
Liquor before beer,
you’re in the clear.
July 14th, 2007 by elie
Calling all Israeli cell phone users (or, all Israelis, as it were): Magen David Adom, Israel’s Health Ministry, cell phone companies and others have come together to launch a pretty clever initiative.
Mark someone in your cell phone as your emergency contact, knowledgeable in your medical history, so doctors and paramedics can speedily work you out.
This person should be listed in your phone as follows:
101 Name
05xxxxxxxx*
I wonder how many Israelis will take this seriously. If you want to, see the ad below for more:
July 13th, 2007 by elie
It’s incredible (and maybe disturbing) how the older we get, the more we lose control of our memories. There are more memories constantly being made; we don’t realize it until much later on, and by then we’ve lost control over so many more from way before.
For dinner, I joined a group of Binghamton alumni ranging in graduations from the 60s to last semester. What a trip; most of all because I haven’t stepped foot on campus in 3 years and it seems like a lifetime, considering so much has changed (apparently).
Just by being there and listening to younger alumni talk made me realize how much I’ve forgotten about this ‘past life’. University life. College campus. T.A. Journalism. Israel Action Committee. R.A. Political science. Controversy. The decision to make aliyah…
That chapter is so completely closed in my mind. It’s even dusty. Is 3 years such a long time? Or have I done so much in that time that the memories have been buried under new ones?
July 12th, 2007 by elie
“But ya know what, I can look out my window at work and think how lucky I am to live in Jerusalem and in Israel … and then, with two feet on the ground, get back to work.”
Amechad’s comment got me thinking. Not for too long, not too hard, but I what I was thinking was: I have a very nice view from my office. Ok, not my office; I don’t have any windows that lead outside. But my office in general claims some really pretty views. Sometimes in meeting I just stare out into the hilltops and pick out houses I can see along the decline.
So I thought I’d share where my eyes focus when I get the chance. A partial view from the conference room:
July 9th, 2007 by elie
Just met with an old friend who is visiting/studying for the summer. She considers aliyah from time to time. It’s been a while since I’ve sat down for a conversation with a friend from ‘home’. Especially one who considers making aliyah.
I listened to myself and realized how realistic I sounded. I don’t mean to discourage. I guess what I’m looking for is for people to see real life here. I know what it’s like, living in faraway America, or wherever, hearing stories and getting dreamy about falafel.
The only non-Israeli-born person who ever came somewhat close to speaking to me that way about living in Israel was a guy I dated at the end of college who was sort of half-Israeli and considering aliyah himself. He dared to preach financial difficulty… He dared to paint a picture that wasn’t coated in soft plush. I didn’t ignore him; in fact, I heeded his words. He was the only one who seemed realistic about the whole thing and that sat well with me.
Is that wrong? Is my being realistic to potential olim wrong? Even before I got here, and forced myself to do away with any expectations - was that wrong?
I think I’m doing pretty well for myself, all things considered. I’m halfway through a hebrew degree. I have a job that works out on many angles. I’m married (that’s a good thing, right?).
You know what; if I had stayed in New York, I feel like I might not have been so well-off. And I don’t think it’s necessarily living in Israel that got me so lucky. Maybe it was the absence of expectations and the open-mindedness in general.
Maybe my three aliyah rules are meant to work for anyone, anywhere.
July 7th, 2007 by elie
Yesh! Jerusalem/Egged is introducing a “solution for the small hours” of the night with late-night bus service across town. It extends pretty far and wide, including Gilo, Ramot, Givaat Ze’ev, Mevasseret and even Maale Adumim. I’m actually impressed with the service as listed in the flier below, which I found on the street; why hadn’t I heard about it from the newspapers or street ads?
I also wonder if it has to do with the long-promised Jerusalem light rail, whose opening date has recently been pushed off - again.
We did witness a few of the buses tonight running along Emek Refaim. Nice one, guys.
July 6th, 2007 by elie
In 2001 I started as a reporter-intern for the Staten Island Advance. I had already been freelancing as a teenager, so I knew a bit here and there, but I had never taken a course in journalism. I wasn’t unique.
On one of the first days, at our orientation meetings, we reporter-interns were told that the first thing to learn - and the first thing we’d do - was to write an obituary.
Clearly, this didn’t appeal to most of us. At first, I couldn’t see past the dead people. I quickly realized, though, that writing obits isn’t about the dead people; it’s about communicating with the living - the mourning living.
I toughened myself up for the task; after all, most people who die are already old and the families were expecting it… right? So the chances of me getting handed a 47-year-old father of three who died of cancer should have been slim… right?
Slim or not, there I was, staring at this guy’s name, age, cause of death. He seemed Latino from the name. I tried to answer the question list myself, making up a story as I went along.
“He was an insignificant guy; his family lost touch with him years ago when he was caught selling drugs to teenagers. No reason to feel bad, you see.”
Better yet, I thought, maybe the family won’t want an obit; they’ll decline the offer and I’ll wish them luck.
But deadline was approaching and I wanted to be a journalist.
I dialed most of the number and hung up. I looked around the press room. I listened to the phones ringing, the voices, the faint T.V. background noise. The cop radio. The world of a reporter.
And I dialed again.
I spoke to the guy’s brother first. He was sweet and more than willing to gush about his brother, a family man, a hard worker. Loved by all. Missed by all. He passed me to his brother’s widow, and my stomach felt deep and hollow. She was crying a bit, but happy to know he’d be in the paper. It would be a good thing to have.
I finished the interview and missed the guy.
You know why obits are the first thing a journalist is assigned? Because it’s the core of every story s/he’ll ever write. An obit is:
Who:
What:
Where:
When:
Why:
How:
Details, details, details:
Weeks later, I was doing three to six obits a day, at least. It was part of the shift. I spoke to old people, young people, relatives who missed their mothers and relatives who hadn’t spoken to their mothers in years. The mourners of heroes, of saints, of nonchalance, of victims to this or that.
I think about my first obit sometimes when I remember my venture into reporter-hood. There are other stories I remember too - speakers, elections, government events, city issues, small crimes, fires - and its some of those stories that are the reasons I pulled out of journalism.
But I stopped minding obits after a while and soon enjoyed those phone calls with the living. It reminded me that I, too, was alive.
July 5th, 2007 by elie
Maybe I’m crazy… Maybe it’s just me…
But I have a haunting suspicion that this sale, going on this week, advertised by the Mashbir - an Israeli department store chain - has something to do with July 4th…
See something familiar?
To be fair, it’s an Isracard sale, and Isracard does use red, white and blue in its logos… But the stars? I don’t know, guys.