Last Saturday afternoon, following a tiring-yet-fulfilling day of wandering around fortresses and waterfalls in the North, I suddenly found myself feeling envious of my blogging pal Benji. Why was I harboring such feelings towards such an upstanding fellow, you ask? Okay. Picture this scene in your mind. You're sitting in the car with your loved ones, heading home from an excursion chock-full of the sights, sounds and smells of the Hermon region. Your mind is all a-jumble, as you think about Nimrod Fortress, the Banias nature reserve and waterfall, the deliciously cold mango slurpee you drank earlier, and the perfectly-timed iced coffee you're drinking now. The day was a success, and you can't help but wonder how it could get any better. And then it does. The radio station that you're listening to starts broadcasting an hour-long tribute to Naomi Shemer, and all of your old favorite songs are suddenly being played one after another.
Your thoughts start drifting back to the long, lost days of youth, lazy days of summer spent in summer camp. You can remember singing these songs, dancing to these songs. You think of the good times you had, the friends you made, and suddenly, you turn melancholy, wishing you were there again. And suddenly, you remember that Benji is there again. As you sit in your air-conditioned car, stuck in weekend traffic while singing along with the best of Naomi Shemer, ignoring the three year-old next to you who keeps asking for one last cookie, you realize that Benji is probably doing the one thing you'd give anything to be doing at that moment, and alas, you are indeed feeling envious of Benji.
Seriously. What could be better than spending your time with the words and music of the late Naomi Shemer, one of Israel's most popular and talented songwriters? Who hasn't heard "Yerushalayim Shel Zahav" ("Jerusalem of Gold"), or "Al Kol Eileh" ("For all these Things")? This prolific song writer, who passed away in the summer of 2004, played a definitive role in shaping the Israeli music scene, with her songs often reflecting the national mood of the day. Her music has accompanied Israelis through good times and bad, and her tunes have been sung by Israeli artists from all musical genres.
The clip below shows the Israeli singing group The Dudaim (Yisrael Gurion and the late Benny Amdursky) singing of one of my favorite Naomi Shemer songs. The title is "Tilbeshi Lavan" (You will wear White), and the first verse and chorus are translated as:
This summer you will wear white You'll think clear thoughts Perhaps you will receive a love letter Perhaps we will make choices.
I will choose you and you will choose me And together we'll mostly be If this summer you will wear white And pray for good.
As you have probably gathered by now, I'm a news junkie. It started in my teenage years, when a young Israeli woman (with whom I am still friends) from the town of Arad came to stay with our family for three weeks in the framework of a student exchange. I'll never forget how impressed I was that this 15 year-old Israeli was discussing politics and current events with my father, in English no less. At the same time, I was ashamed of myself for not being able to join in. Her visit was a turning point for me, as it was the catalyst that led me to start reading the newspaper and follow the news. I made the conscious decision to make myself aware of what was going on in the world, and it was a decision that had a great impact on my day-to-day life. I became more intense and found that I wasn't really interested in shallow small talk, and as much as it may have guided me towards certain friendships, I'm quite certain that there were people who were turned off by it, people who weren't interested in maintaining a friendship with someone who was so focused on such issues.
During my freshman year in university, I found myself going to various fraternity parties and other keg parties, as the early friends I'd made had been keen to attend, and frankly, I was curious. I discovered pretty quickly that it wasn't for me. In fact, I was pretty miserable during my first semester in school, until I found my niche. It took me a while to realize that I probably wasn't ever going to meet people who interested me at those parties, as the people who shared my interests weren't actually going to those parties. In the end, most of my friends turned out to be international students (or those with a keen interest in international students or issues), campus activists, and student government types, and once I'd begun to find these people, my life took a turn for the better. I much preferred sitting around discussing politics and current events to loud keg parties, and drinking coffee with friends was much more attractive to me than going to a bar and having to chat up strangers.
I tremendously enjoyed being a campus activist, enjoyed promoting various issues and taking a stand against others. I was proud of the fact that I was doing my part to make a difference; that I was taking an active roll in trying to shape campus life. I enjoyed supporting my student government friends (and also enjoyed going out to salsa clubs with them in the evenings, despite the fact that I have no rhythm and was a hopeless case, even though one of the Colombians showed extreme amounts of patience as he tried to teach me basic steps). I look back on my activist years fondly, and I suppose I'd have to say, judging by the contents of this blog, that I really miss those years, given how much I've written about various issues here, how frequently I've taken a stand. I feel lucky that I can use my writing skills as a tool to make people think about important and often controversial topics, that I can use my writing to promote various causes. I have a great deal of respect for a number of musical artists who also use their talents or their fame to help raise awareness for certain issues, whether it be Bob Geldof and Band Aid, or Midnight Oil, the Australian band particularly active in promoting environmental and indigenous causes.
Today's 80s Music Video Sunday song is Midnight Oil's "Beds are Burning". According to its Wikipedia entry, this song is "a plea for the land rights of indigenous Australians", a term that includes both the Torres Strait Islanders and the Aboriginal people, who together comprise approximately 2.5% of Australia's population. An amazing song on its own, but even more so because it has a message.
Beds are Burning Midnight Oil
Out where the river broke The bloodwood and the desert oak Holden wrecks and boiling diesels Steam in forty five degrees
The time has come To say fair's fair To pay the rent To pay our share The time has come A fact's a fact It belongs to them Let's give it back
How can we dance when our earth is turning How do we sleep while our beds are burning How can we dance when our earth is turning How do we sleep while our beds are burning
The time has come to say fairs fair To pay the rent, now to pay our share
Four wheels scare the cockatoos From Kintore East to Yuendemu The western desert lives and breathes In forty five degrees
The time has come To say fair's fair To pay the rent To pay our share The time has come A fact's a fact It belongs to them Let's give it back
How can we dance when our earth is turning How do we sleep while our beds are burning How can we dance when our earth is turning How do we sleep while our beds are burning
The time has come to say fair's fair To pay the rent, now to pay our share The time has come, a fact's a fact It belongs to them, let's give it back
How can we dance when our earth is turning How do we sleep while our beds are burning
I've been at my current job for 20 months now, lugging my beloved laptop back and forth everyday, often using my train time as writing time. I'm not a big laptop expert, and am quite happy with my work-provided Dell (though I'm desperately in need of a new battery, which I keep forgetting to remind out IT guys about...). What I'm not happy about is the work-provided Dell laptop bag, which is big, bulky and heavy, not to mention terribly unfashionable. And, not that I am terribly fashionable (think "Gap chic" on a good day...), but I would still like to drag said beloved laptop around in a trendier, more useful bag. As it stands today, I barely have enough room for my "required" items, such as my wallet, a book (which will become even more problematic once I receive my pre-ordered version of the new Harry Potter book, due out in just a few weeks' time), a hairbrush (which I even remember to use on occasion), copious amounts of tissues, glasses case, and in winter, a small umbrella (fortunately, the Little One has long left the Cheerios phase, or I'd have little baggies with Cheerios in them as well, with the baggie often getting punctured by the brush and resulting in a smattering of Cheerio crumbs spread throughout). Everything must be fitted just so, and I often find myself having to take everything out and start from scratch. Chronic paininthebuttitis, that's what it is...
Hence, I've started the search for a new bag. I love bags – not the sleek yet impractical mini-bags, but rather bags with lots of room and lots of pockets and compartments. I love pockets and compartments (my father is the same way, so it's clearly a genetic trait). When I go bag shopping, I always make sure to bring a book with me, just to verify that it will fit in any bag to which I take a liking. If a bag doesn't pass the book test, it's probably not going to pass over the threshold out of the store, at least not with me. It's not that I buy a lot of bags, mind you. Truly, I don't (though I'm guessing that some males would probably disagree with my assessment, but seriously, how could I even debate this with individuals who only needs three pairs of shoes or less to get them through all of life's twists and turns?). I just tend to lust over them from afar, hoping to come up with a legitimate reason to make the purchase. I may look with longing, but I need to a definite reason to buy, and if the price is outrageous, I will never find the justification. Of course, the term "outrageous" is relative...
Where was I? Oh yes. A bag for the laptop. There's a chance I might have a suitable bag at home that would only require the purchase of a laptop sleeve, but I'm secretly hoping that I don't. Or maybe not so secretly, seeing as I've just let you all in on my little secret. Jeez, I can't even be trusted to keep my own secrets! Sigh... So anyway, I've been perusing the internet, getting bag ideas. And I've discovered something. I've discovered that I'm clueless (which some of you may have realized long before this). I don't know what I need, what will best suit my requirements. I don't know if I'll be happier with a tote bag or a messenger bag, and I keep finding myself surreptitiously staring at women's bags wherever I am, trying to envision myself with a similar bag and wondering if the particular style in question will do the trick. I've always tended to favor the messenger bag style, but that's only because I've never seriously considered the tote style, never really taken an in-depth look. Could I be a tote bag person? Could I have that trendy tote, or will I always be destined to go with the (more casual) messenger bag? Decisions decisions. If I go the messenger route, I'd have to make sure that I'm not taken in by canvas which, while totally laid back and comfortable (totally me), may start to look tatty, especially after one rainy Israeli winter. I'm not big on those brand emblems either, and I just can't see myself getting one of those flashy bags with brightly colored stripes or patterns, or some hideously loud-colored bag – it would have to be either black or brown, I'm thinking. After all, it has to be a bag that I can carry around with me wherever I go after work, on those rare occasions when I meet up with friends or go to a meeting of some sort, something that will fit in with my usual style (or lack thereof). Polka dots and plaids just won't do.
Which brings me to my next discovery. Who knew that bags could be so ugly? Some of the designs and patterns I saw were truly horrifying, as though a paint factory had exploded, or that my son had had a hand in the design. Or I did. People who choose laptop bags with garish polka dots should not be allowed to have laptops. There. I've said it. The truth laid bare. It's like letting guests from the Jerry Springer show breed. It just isn't right. Period. I may not have a lot of style, but I can certainly recognize an item that has none. I mean, it's not rocket science, you know. Besides, let's say for the sake of argument that you get the garishly polka-dotted bag. As long as you carry that bag, you can never wear polka-dots or stripes. You will clash with your bag.
I'm not saying that laptop bags can't be stylish and trendy, and even have color. Of course they can! Colored solids, elegant stripes (admittedly, my stripes would be in neutral colors). Knock yourselves out. Just remember what always used to say to the New Zealander who used to cut my air – make it interesting, but not embarrassing. There's a fine line between the two, and easily blurred at that.
And of course, now that I've probably managed to alienate the few readers that I have, if any of you have managed to read this far without being insulted, I'd, ummm, welcome your suggestions for a new laptop bag...
Not too long ago, I wrote this post, asking for prayers for a very sick little boy. Sadly, he lost his struggle yesterday afternoon. It is simply incomprehensible to fathom the pain of losing a child, and only a parent who has already been there can understand the sheer magnitude of the hurt. Losing a child who has been ill often provokes mixed feelings. I can remember when we lost our first child, how my pain was mixed with relief. Relief at knowing my child had been released from his pain, relief at knowing that we would no longer be spending all of our time in a hospital feeling helpless, living in limbo and waiting for something to happen. The pain, however, was intense. I felt that I would never smile again, never laugh again. I would wander around, and it seemed almost surreal to watch people going about their daily lives, seemingly without a care in the world, at a time when my world had been blown to pieces.
And yet, I knew that I would somehow pull myself out of this deep, deep hole, that I would – and indeed must – continue to live, continue to go on. And I have. From the depths of my pain, I decided that I had to move forward, and that it would be harder to surrender to the pain than to somehow pull myself out of it. The pain is and always will be a part of me, but it does not control me. Hopefully, with great amounts of love, friendship and support, this little boy's family will find happiness again, will learn to smile again. Hopefully, they will eventually learn to take control of their loss and find meaning in what they have gone through, seeking out the goodness and focusing on the special times. For now, they must somehow find a way to get through the day. Through today and tomorrow, through next week and next month. They have entered the second phase of this most painful of all journeys, and all we can do is wish them strength to get through it all. Keep them in your hearts and keep them in your heads, and don't forget to hug your own children, for one never knows what tomorrow can bring.
I've decided to do something a little different with this week's 80s Music Video Sunday, which is certainly my prerogative, given that I'm the owner of the joint. I've been tagged by Life Out East (who is now back in the UK) to do a meme about music, and thinking about it, I realized that I could use the meme as a tie-in to 80s Music Video Sunday. As usual, scintillating commentary will be added as I see fit.
5 - You're going on a long journey, what five albums MUST you take with you? Albums that you need to listen to regularly.
Maroon 5's "Songs About Jane". This is one of only two CDs that I've purchased during the past few years. I love their sound, and I love all the songs on the album. I'd love to get my hands on their new album, "It Won't Be Soon Before Long", and I haven't even heard any of the songs yet. That's how much confidence I have in these guys. They're brilliant.
Santana's "Supernatural". I bought this album shortly after it was released, and it's one of the few albums I've ever listened to that actually sent chills up and down my spine. Absolutely amazing.
Vanessa-Mae's "The Violin Player". While not generally passionate about classical music (though it's definitely part of my collection), this album simply blew me away. It inspires me, and I've even discovered that when it's playing in the background, I can actually write faster. What can I say – the woman is incredible.
David Broza's "First Collection". David Broza has long been one of my favorite Israeli performers, singing in Hebrew, Spanish and English. I've attended a number of his concerts, and even had the (mostly) amazing experience of organizing one while attending university. Give the man a guitar and a stool to sit on, and he turns into a god. Back in the day, one of my friends put it best when she said during a performance, "my god! It's like he's making love to the guitar!" This album is a great collection of a lot of his earlier stuff.
"James Taylor Live". I have always loved the music of James Taylor, and especially connected with his references to New England and the Berkshires, an area where I spent a great deal of my childhood. His music just washes over me and relaxes me, no matter what my mood. Definitely one of the most talented singer-songwriters ever.
4 - What four albums/songs do you most associate with a journey or travel experience? You know, the ones you listen to that instantly transport you back to a place and time.
REM's "Green". During my sophomore year in university, I went away to Jamaica with friends for Spring Break. While there, we hooked up with a group of young cadets from West Point, and this was the album that we took to the beach with us every day. There may have been other albums, but this is the only one I can remember. We just kept flipping that cassette over and over, and never seemed to get tired of it.
A-ha's "Hunting High and Low". As I wrote back in this post, I broke my ankle shortly after arriving to spend a year in Israel after graduating from high school. While in the hospital, I listened to this album constantly, in order to block out the hospital sounds. It's probably what saved my sanity during my stay there.
Chava Alberstein. We have one of her collections at home, as the Husband is a big fan, and I got it for him as a birthday gift many years ago. I can't remember the name, but I will forever associate it with a road trip we once took in the US for a few days. We listened to that set over, and over, and over, and over again. To this day, whenever I hear any of the songs from that collection, I'm instantly taken back to that trip.
Depeche Mode's "The Singles 81 > 85". My serious Depeche Mode awakening came about during the aforementioned year in Israel. Their songs were playing in all the clubs, and I had a friend who was particularly keen on their music (to put it mildly). I bought this album (the version with the original cover) in Israel that year, and given how frequently I listened to it, I'm amazed that the cassette still plays. Whenever I hear any of the songs on the album, I'm immediately transported back to that year, to the dance clubs of Jerusalem, many of which, are undoubtedly long gone.
3 - Your three favourite songs of all time?
This one is definitely a tough one. Let's see if I can limit it to three...
"Mr. Jones and Me" by the Counting Crows. I love this song. It was this song that led me to all their other songs, and I could listen to it over and over again. It could definitely be an answer to the next question as well, but I don't want to double up, so I'm only listing it here.
"Unforgettable", the duet version from Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole. After we decided to get married, we were going nuts trying to come up with a song that we could use for the first dance. We didn't have an "our song" as such, and were trying to come up with something that worked. I went to visit a friend in New Orleans for a weekend, and while wandering around a shopping mall in the city, this song came on. I knew immediately that this would be "the song". And the rest, as they say, is history.
Shlomo Artzi's "Melech Haolam" ("King of the World"). It's a beautiful song about a mother and her young son, how she talks to him while she dresses him, telling him that he can be anything he wants to be because for her, he is king of the world.
2 - Two feel good songs, the ones that are guaranteed to lift the blues and put a smile on your face.
"Cliffs of Dover", by Eric Johnson. This obscure instrumental is one of those songs that seems like it was created for playing at high volume in the car during the summer with the windows rolled down. Check it out here. One of my apartment-mates was a music student, and she's the one who introduced me to the song.
1 - Absolute, overall, undoubtedly the best album of all time, in your opinion.
Hmmmm. That was definitely harder than I thought it would be, having to narrow down, leave things out, etc. Before moving on to today's featured video (drawn from the lists above), I think I'll tag the following folks: Beth, Raanana Ramblings, Lisa, and Anglosaxy. Oooh! I'll also tag (if one can tag after the fact...) TAFKA PP, as not only has she expressed interest over doing this meme, but we are also supposed to meet for coffee in the near future, and don't want the fact that I didn't tag her initially to cast a pall over the proceedings...
And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog feature...
After much deliberation, I've decided to go with REM's "Stand", taken from the aforementioned album Green. This song takes me straight back to that Spring Break in Jamaica, which was, without a doubt, one of the more interesting social experiences of my life. While I definitely had fun that week, I also realized just how much I wasn't cut out for the whole shallow party scene, something I'd pretty much figured out at that point anyway, but kept trying to deny. I've never been good at shallow small talk, never been a big drinker, and couldn't flirt to save my life. While I absolutely loved Jamaica (we even went there on our honeymoon) and for the most part had fun with the friends with whom I'd traveled, that trip was definitely one of the defining experiences of my youth, in that it helped me to realize who I'm not.
Stand REM
Stand in the place where you live Now face North Think about direction Wonder why you haven't before Now stand in the place where you work Now face West Think about the place where you live Wonder why you haven't before
If you are confused check with the sun Carry a compass to help you along Your feet are going to be on the ground Your head is there to move you around
Stand in the place where you live Now face North Think about direction Wonder why you haven't before Now stand in the place where you work Now face West Think about the place where you live Wonder why you haven't before
Your feet are going to be on the ground Your head is there to move you around If wishes were trees the trees would be falling Listen to reason, season is calling
Stand in the place where you live Now face North Think about direction Wonder why you haven't before Now stand in the place where you work Now face West Think about the place where you live Wonder why you haven't before
It all began two years ago today with this post, after my former blogging partner convinced me that I needed to start blogging again, following an approximately year-long hiatus brought on by my general inability to get my shit together multi-task on a grand level after the Little One was born. He even agreed to be my partner in crime, figuring that between the two of us, we would certainly be able to maintain a decent blogging schedule. We all know how that worked out. Despite our little "break-up", we've remained good friends, and he even helped me out with a minor blog emergency yesterday, when I suddenly realized that I needed to make an urgent change to yesterday's post but was nowhere near a computer. Two text messages and a phone call later, and I can safely say that my reputation has been preserved. It's amazing how the lack of a simple strike-through can send a writer into a tailspin...
Two years full of rants, politics, humor, and burn-out combined with more or less equal parts of cynicism, sarcasm and merriment (not to mention copious amounts of caffeine), and I'm astonished by how much this one little website has changed my life. It'sgivenmemanywonderfulnewfriends, includingseveralwhoIhopetomeetface-to-faceoneday (and for those of you who feel left out, this is just a short list. Obviously, I'd love to meet most of you, and I didn't include those I knewbefore I began blogging, or those regular commenters who don't have their own blogs).
Not only has this blog provided me with some pretty amazing people in my life, but it has also been a platform for getting my writing noticed, something I have always wanted to do, but prior to blogging, was never quite sure how to go about it. This blog has been mentioned in a variety of publications and other websites, and excerpts have been reprinted in a variety of venues. I have been interviewed for different websites, and thanks to posts I've written about bringing the Little One into the world, I've been asked to share my experiences for a book that is currently being written. I'm often in awe of all the places where links to this blog have turned up, and am honored to be included in the blogrolls of several well-connected, well-respected bloggers. This blog has led to various writing gigs, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was both proud of and pleased with what I've managed to create. I'm also proud of the community that has developed (for the most part) and the exchanges that have taken place in the comment sections, despite differences of opinion. Even some of my regular commenters have managed to connect with one another, as evidenced by a recent meeting in Oslo between nrg and Rami (I have photo proof), who was in the city for a conference last week.
It hasn't always been easy, and there have definitely been times when I've considered quitting, times when I've wondered what I'd gotten myself into. Then I take an overall look at what I've accomplished both personally and professionally, and I think of the joy I've taken in writing many of the posts (peruse the "Favorite Posts" section in the sidebar to see those entries of which I'm most proud), and I know that at this stage, quitting is just not an option. Besides, it seems that I've got a few incrediblysupportive, amazingfriends who can be even more stubborn than me (imagine that!), and they always push me to continue and cheer me on from the sidelines (thanks, guys! you're the best!). So yeah, if I had to lay a wager, I'd say that you're definitely going to be stuck with me for the time being, for better or for worse.
Well, it's now official. Amir Peretz, aka "The Mustache" is gone. Following nineteen painful months as Labor party leader, Amir Peretz has been voted out. The winner of yesterday's Labor primaries is military man turned politician turned businessman turned politician Ehud Barak, who, quite frankly, does not make my socks roll up and down. I think I would have preferred Ami Ayalon, but as is often the case in Israeli politics, it would have been a matter of choosing the less disappointing candidate.
Barak's political history is not terribly impressive, and his brief run as prime minister left much to be desired. As I remember it, the most exciting revelation to come out of his previous incarnation as a government minister was that he was an accomplished penis pianist. He was also notorious for running his government as though it were an extension of the military, maintaining a small, tight group of advisors and militaristic secrecy, keeping odd hours and doing his best to keep his fellow players on their toes at all times.
Barak not only left the prime minister's office behind following the outbreak of the second intifada, he also left his former wife behind (who was, quite honestly the best thing he had going for him), removed an unsightly mole from his face, and successfully made his way in the world of business and the global lecture circuit, easily catapulting himself into the upper echelons of Israeli society. Not much was heard from him during his absence, and since his return to the world of Israeli politics, he was often criticized for remaining silent in the media. In fact, the only sound byte I can actually remember during the campaign period prior to the Labor primaries is that he is the only Labor personality who can beat out Bibi Netanyahu in nationwide elections, which, whether or not it is actually true, is a rather scant platform on which to base one's campaign for leadership.
We are still far enough away from nationwide elections that I don't feel the need to worry about the outcome. As it stands today, none of the potential candidates terribly excite me – not Barak and certainly not Olmert or Netanyahu. Barring the unexpected appearance of a knight in shining armor who will somehow miraculously be able to lead the country out of its current quagmire, I suspect that come election time, I will feel as though I don't have anyone to vote for. Indeed, the State of Israel is once again caught between Barak and a hard place.
I've been busy busy busy these days, and it looks like I'm finally taking the freelance writing plunge, without actually giving up the dreary but lucrative technical writing.
First, check out the post I've uploaded to my newest play area - Israelity. Be sure to let the powers that be know what you think. Feel free to leave comments here and there. I'll be popping up there from time to time, and you can expect to see quite a few posts from me over there in the future.
Second, while I can't go into the finer details, I'm going to have two columns in a new monthly publication, which is being produced by one of Israel's daily newspapers. Once column involves political/current events commentary, while the other deals with domestic news and commentary. Pretty exciting stuff, if I do say so myself. And, if that weren't exciting enough, you'll never guess who the magazine's photographer is going to be...
Oh, and in case you haven't noticed the new links on my sidebar, I've joined both Facebook and MySpace, ostensibly for networking purposes, but I must admit, I've been enjoying the opportunity to find old friends as well. Serious time suck...
Since moving to our home in the north approximately ten years ago (though in this case "north" is open to interpretation, as some would refer to it as the "Northern Sharon" or simply as part of the ever-expanding boundaries of the "center"), we have done our best to take advantage of our proximity to some of the more beautiful parts of the country (and this, of course, also being open to interpretation). While I enjoy a good walk, I've never been a big hiker. The husband, on the other hand, lives to hike, and consequently, we've spent a great deal of our marriage meandering along various trails around the country, trails with varying degrees of difficulty. Fortunately, Israel has a great deal to offer when it comes to communing with nature, whether you fancy a treacherous hike through the desert, a leisurely stroll through a forest or past a waterfall, a picnic in a nature reserve (watch those campfires, folks!), or an educational outing to any one of a great number of antiquities sites and ancient ruins.
We've spent a great deal of time in the wild lately, and I never cease to marvel at all this country has to offer. A few weeks ago it was Nazareth and the Basilica of the Annunciation with friends, and just this past weekend we managed to hit the ancient synagogue (with its very impressive mosaic floor) at Kibbutz Beit Alfa, the Belvoir (Kochav Hayarden) fortress (the photo above was taken there), and the water channels by Nachal Hakibbutzim (see the photo below). We also managed to hit a tremendous amount of traffic on the drive home, but that's simply par for the course when returning home late on fabulous Saturday afternoon.
The Basilica of the Annunciation took my breath away. One of my favorite things about living here is the accessibility to so much history, and the Basilica did not disappoint. Wandering through its intricately designed halls filled me with a great sense of awe. I gazed around the chapel and stood by the grotto, allowing myself to be taken in by the historical impact of my surroundings, feeling as I had felt many years earlier when I first visited various sites in Jerusalem's Old City, feeling the history come alive. I never grow tired of the seemingly endless sightseeing opportunities here, but few have struck me as the Basilica did.
And of course, what outing would be complete without food? Indeed, some of the best food I've eaten in Israel has been discovered far away from the culinary center of Tel Aviv. We recently had the distinct pleasure to eat at El Babor (click the link and then scroll up to the first restaurant listed under "North"), a restaurant in one of the Arab-Israeli towns lining Route 65. Just thinking about the lamb's neck stuffed with rice and pine nuts makes me drool with longing, and I'm not even a big fan of meat! Unusual salads and professional service have put El Babor on our permanent radar, and we will undoubtedly look for reasons to return.
The north is filled with excellent restaurants that are well-worth the detour off the beaten path, but should you wish to bring your own, there's certainly no shortage of picnic and barbecue sites, many of which also have large, well-designed play areas. I've lost track of the number of times when we've stumbled upon one of these spots during our travels, caught totally unprepared (in other words, not having had the forethought to actually pack and bring food), and added the location to our growing mental list of spots to return to with food and friends. And, in typical Israeli style, if you stay long enough, the inevitable four-wheeled Israeli phenomenon affectionately known as the "gazlan" will roll up, proffering a splendidly fattening selection of ice cream. The kids are happy and everyone is sated. Now if only someone would come around with the mobile cappuccino maker, life would indeed be complete...
So Benji is spending the summer as a unit head at our old summer camp, and quite frankly, I can't wait to hear all about it! Some of my greatest teenage memories are from there, whether it be hours spent happily on the softball field (proving that even though I was a girl, I could play better than most of the boys), folk dancing every evening after dinner, fighting over Fruity Pebbles during Shabbat morning breakfasts or choosing between the various "optional-mandatory" sessions (there were many sessions to choose from – attendance was mandatory but each person had the option to choose the one that sounded the most interesting, hence the name) held on Shabbat afternoons. I'll never forget the Saturday evening Havdalah ceremonies, when somehow, no matter how the weather had been all day, the days before, the days following, etc, it never ever rained, so we were always able to hold the ceremony outside, a record that held throughout five years of month-long sessions.
While I'm not really in touch with people I went to camp with (though interestingly enough, I've since made friends with people who were there around the same time as me, but whom I never met back in the day), I can still remember the good times we had and the closeness and comradery we shared, not to mention the friendly rivalries that existed between the geographical regions from which we'd each come (I remember the Texans as being, ummm, especially proud of their heritage, and being rather loud about it too! "The eyes of Texas are upon you, all the live long day..."). Shabbat was always a special time, starting with the Friday evening services and "Kabalat shabbat", prepared each week by a different group, and special dinners, followed by a short skit (again, prepared each week by a different group) and folk dancing, where, because it was Friday night and the camp kept the shabbat laws, we danced to the sounds of our own voices singing, so as not to break shabbat by using musical instruments or recorded music. Saturdays were relaxing, with prayer services in the morning and most of the day spent at leisure, aside from the previously mentioned "optional-mandatories". Saturday evening dinners (always dairy, as I recall) were followed by the singing of quiet songs (which were often preferred, as they involved a great deal of touching because everyone put their arms around one another's shoulders as we sang, and despite the somewhat spiritual atmosphere, when it came down to it, we were still a bunch of horny teenagers looking for any excuse to make contact with the opposite sex...), the aforementioned Havdalah ceremony (which involved a great deal of hand-holding), and a veritable orgy of folk dancing.
Some of my fondest memories of the camp years were the times spent with the Israeli Scouts – our sister movement. Every year, there would be several young Israelis in camp with us, as well as a group of Scouts who traveled around the country, performing at different summer camps and other Jewish venues (performances were similar to those of the army's entertainment troupes). The Scouts were an integral part of our summer camp experience, and I always enjoyed getting to know these amazing young people who shared their culture with us. To this day, I still have an official "Scouts" bandanna, given to me by a Scout nicknamed Solo in 1984. He had been my best friend that summer, and even though I never saw him after that, I've never forgotten what a wonderful friend he was and the special friendship we shared. I've occasionally tried to look him up during my years in Israel, but so far, without any success.
If I had to pick a favorite summer – and I'd be hard-pressed to do so, but for the sake of argument, let's say I was required to do so, it would have to be the summer we lived in tents. Each tent slept two people (single sex only, so don't go getting ideas into your heads), sat on a raised platform and had a few electrical outlets (hey – it was for a whole month, AND we were American teenagers!). I shared a tent with my friend Pam, with whom I had something of a love-hate relationship, as I recall. I don't remember specifics, I just have these vague memories of the occasional disagreement. One of the things I remember most about that summer was the tent next to ours. One of its inhabitants was a guy named Craig. Craig, in addition to being a champion swimmer (I believe he trained for the Olympics), he was a huge fan of the 80s group General Public. We always knew when Craig was in his tent because we could hear General Public being played (needless to say, tent walls are not very thick...). And so, due to the rather incessant playing of this duo's music (and a minor crush on Craig), I became a fan too. I acquired a copy of "All the Rage" and the rest, as they say, is history.
Tenderness General Public
I don't know when to start or when to stop My luck's like a button I can't stop pushing it My head feels light But I'm still in the dark Seems like without tenderness there's something missing
Tenderness Where is the Tenderness Where is it?
I don't know where I am but I know I don't like it Open my mouth and out pops something spiteful Words are so cheap, but they can turn out expensive Words like conviction can turn into a sentence
I held your hand Rings but none on your fingers We danced and danced but I was scared to go much further with it Just half a chance Make sure that one night you're here, but Next night you're not It always leaves me searching for a little
Tenderness Where is the Tenderness Where is it?
Whistling in the graveyard Calling up your girlfriend Just trying to make you understand You're squeezing the telephone like it was her hand No questions (so many questions) She's gonna catch you out boy It all seems so underhand Now hat she's the only thing that ever made you feel like a man, man Madman madman Tenderness Where is the Tenderness Where is it?
Birth Date and Time..... June 5, 1968 12:01 PM Birth Location............. Brooklyn, New York Sun Sign.................... Gemini
"Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others - Modest, unobtrusive, and often rather quiet or shy, you are a person who is content to be in the background or to serve as an assistant, in the supporting role rather than in the lead. You are quite humble in your own assessment of yourself and you have a very strong perfectionistic attitude, with a tendency to be overly self-critical. No matter how well you do something, you always see the flaws in it and how it could be improved. Often you will simply refuse to attempt something because you feel you cannot meet your own high standards."
So, do you think it's accurate?
Apparently, I've got the same birthday as Draco Malfoy. Lovely.
Over the years, there's one thing Israelis have done that always makes me laugh. They aren't bashful about singing out loud, singing along with the radio, or basically about doing (or wearing!) anything in public that would make the average American cringe. The funniest, though, is definitely the singing, especially when the songs are in a language other than Hebrew. I've lost track of the number of times I've had to exert tremendous self-control in order not to laugh over badly mangled lyrics belted out in horribly accented English, often in a way that suggests the person is rehearsing for their "A Star is Born" (Israel's answer to "American Idol") audition. And of course, you know that if this were indeed the case, your acquaintance would wind up being one of those poor souls whose audition was shown on television purely for public enjoyment.
Sometimes, though, word-mangling is simply inevitable, even for those of us who actually know the language of the song being sung. Often, the lyrics are utterly unintelligible, and as hard as you try, you simply cannot understand the words that the singer is singing. This seems especially true of songs from the 80s, where discovery of the actual lyrics shows you just how far off the mark you are. We all know this was the case for this song, as well as several other songs that have been featured for 80s Music Video Sunday. The scary part is, even though you've finally found out what the real lyrics are, you've got the incorrect words so deeply ingrained in your brain that you know chances are slim that you'll ever learn the song properly, and will continue to sing along using the wrong words, remembering that they are wrong only after you've actually sung them.
There is, however, one song from the 80s that stands out in my mind as a gem in the indecipherable lyrics genre. "Come on Eileen" by Dexys Midnight Runners was a huge hit. We all loved it and we all sang along, but in truth, I don't think anyone actually knew the words. If we had each been asked to sing the song alone, I can only imagine how different each person's take on the words would have been, and if we take that thought even further, I'm guessing that each person's distinct version of the song would be far, far away from the original. I've just looked up the lyrics now, and quite frankly, they don't even resemble any words that I'd have come up with on my own.
Everyone "knows" this song, but with regard to the actual lyrics, how close were you really? Hmmm?
Come on Eileen Dexys Midnight Runners
(Come on Eileen!) (Come on Eileen!)
Poor old Johnny Ray Sounded sad upon the radio He moved a million hearts in mono Our mothers cried and sang along and who'd blame them? Now you're grown, so grown, now I must say more than ever Go toora loora toora loo rye aye And we can sing just like our fathers ....
Come on Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) At this moment, you mean everything With you in that dress, my thoughts I confess Verge on dirty ...... Ah, come on Eileen!
(Come on Eileen!) (Come on Eileen!)
These people round here wear beaten down eyes Sunk in smoke dried faces They're so resigned to what their fate is But not us, no not us We are far too young and clever Go toora loora toora loo rye aye Eileen, I'll sing this tune forever
Come on, Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) Ah come on, let's take off everything That pretty red dress .... Eileen (tell him yes) Ah, come on! Come on Eileen!!!
Come on Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) At this moment, you mean everything
Come on, Eileen, taloora aye Come on, Eileen, taloora aye Come on, Eileen, taloora aye Come on, Eileen, taloora aye Come on, Eileen, taloora aye Come on, Eileen, taloora aye
Go toora loora toora loo rye aye
Come on Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) At this moment, you mean everything With you in that dress, my thoughts I confess Verge on dirty ...... Ah, come on Eileen!
Come on, Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) Ah come on, let's take off everything That pretty red dress .... Eileen (tell him yes) Ah, come on! Come on Eileen!!!
Come on Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) At this moment, you mean everything
Come on Eileen! Well, I swear (what he means) At this moment, you mean everything
Your thoughts start drifting back to the long, lost days of youth, lazy days of summer spent in summer camp. You can remember singing these songs, dancing to these songs. You think of the good times you had, the friends you made, and suddenly, you turn melancholy, wishing you were there again. And suddenly, you remember that Benji is there again. As you sit in your air-conditioned car, stuck in weekend traffic while singing along with the best of Naomi Shemer, ignoring the three year-old next to you who keeps asking for one last cookie, you realize that Benji is probably doing the one thing you'd give anything to be doing at that moment, and alas, you are indeed feeling envious of Benji.
