The Israeli version laments Israel’s failure to get into the World Cup, for anti-Semitic reasons, of course… or not of course. Israel’s enemies (and this the song’s authors) claim it’s actually bad soccer. Imagine that?
On a non-surface level, it’s just nice and relaxing when we poke fun at ourselves once in a while, as opposed to obsessing through humor about everyone else hating ourselves.
I don’t think I ever really stopped being a kid. There are a few things I always held on to: the covered slide, Disney movies, fruit snacks.
Ok, who am I kidding… there are about 20875691346 things I never let go of to become an adult.
Anyway, having a kid is a 24/7 excuse to live like a kid again (and not seem like a creep). Now I can go to a park and use more than just the swings. I can go on the water slide in the hotel pool… over and over, not just once to ‘make sure it’s safe’ for the kids.
Finger painting, for example. I haven’t done that since… I was a camp counselor for 3-year-olds a decade ago. Ok, fine.
A lot of us diaspora kids grew up with Naomi Shemer’s music. It was like Intro to Israeli Culture 101 for kindergarteners.
Here’s a little something about נעמי שמר, the ‘first lady of Israeli song,’ from Answers.com:
Shemer did her own songwriting and composing, set famous poems to music, such as those of the Israeli poet, Rachel, and adapted well-known songs into Hebrew, such as the Beatles songs “Hey Jude” and “Let it Be” (“Lu Yehi”). Shemer’s songs have contributed significantly to Israeli culture. Several of Shemer’s songs have the quality of anthems, striking deep national and emotional chords in the hearts of Israelis.
This short (7 minutes short) Israeli film is six years old, and I saw it for the first time today. Thought I’d share it further in case you’re not one of the 1.2 million people who have already watched it…
Directed, written and produced by Erez Tadmor and Guy Nattiv.
It’s a nice thought. I like reminding myself of what that warm fuzzy feeling is like.
On another note, I’ve always wanted to live in Haifa.
On Friday, I returned with my home-peeps to the poor man’s Central Park in Modiin (for the record, it’s called Anava Park, פארק ענבה במודיעין) for a kid-friendly experience in daylight.
The main draw for me was the boating (pedals, row, or kayak). Koala’s mama grew up on an island, his pops is from a bay, and it was about damn time he experience a boat ride.
You can rent a lil boat and spend 15, 30, or 45 minutes moving around the big man-made lake. There’s also a kiosk for snacks and drinks. Plenty of grass for a picnic. And… and… a GIANT playground of awesomeness.
What? Koala wanted to go, I just followed along.
I highly recommend it… but more so in September or October or other non-melty months. It’s a lot of open space with barely any shade. And being on the water is fun, but not being able to jump in is less so.
Today my travel agent (la di da) and I were commiserating over traveling cross-Atlantic with kids.
Can I get a hell, yeah?
She had some words of wisdom; not necessarily advice but an appropriate sentiment I had not been able to express until she mentioned it:
Flying with children is like giving birth – it sucks for about 12-15 hours, it’s painful, it’s uncomfortable, it’s torture. But at the end, when you’re done, you’ve totally forgotten it and are happy with what you have…
…which is why we end up doing it, again and again and again.