How does everyone manage the sudden transition from summer to winter? In Tel Aviv I notice every person passing by is well dressed for the long-delayed downpour. From one day to the next – sweaters, jackets, boots, everyone elegantly
stepping around the rivers suddenly appearing in the streets. Of course Shusha spent the night in terror of the thunder and lightning. Funny, she hasn’t reacted at all to all the planes flying overheard for the past weeks. Does she realize what is more dangerous? In any case, it looks like we’re in for a Noah-like winter. But, as everyone tells me, the drought tax is probably here to stay, no matter how much rain falls.
Oct 292009
As if the skies had been waiting for Rabin’s memorial, they opened today in full force. I sat in a traffic jam on the way back from the doctors for almost an hour listening to the radio – Ehud Barak on Rabin – feeling sad. Then Bill Clinton’s elegy for Rabin came on and I found myself weeping. Just like that.
As I shook out my umbrella I joined some neighbors in praising the rain – Even the old lady did a little dance. Then they opened their water bill for the month – the new tax law on water is enormous, it doesn’t even go to water conservation directly, and I think I’m going to protest it. But first, a bath.
My ears hurt, my shoulder hurt, my eyes hurt, my teeth hurt, my stomach hurts, and I myself don’t feel so great. My California friend, who uses an inhaler, says that it doesn’t seem logical – if she uses the inhaler it opens her throat that enables her to breathe in the dirty air that her throat is closing against for protection….
Any way I don’t think I have the swine flu but maybe i did catch a virus from my computer.
I wasn’t worried when Turkey was throwing all kinds of insults at us, but now, that they are talking peace while sitting in Iran, I’m worried. Last nights’ katyusha was only a little reminder – something is going to break out soon, and i had better not be stuck in bed when everyone is racing to the shelter.
What am I worried about? Nothing can get through my quilt.
Actually I wanted to write about the value of human life in Israel, but I’m too tired to tackle that subject right now – the Goldstone Report, the recent murders around here, the amazing situation of public health – all these mix up the whole question of how we value life. Of course you can help me out and give me some ideas for tomorrow.
Oct 252009
I’m pretty used to Pappa’s – a peroni on the balcony, some elegant main course like the scallopini, terramisu and grappa… But for a local family birthday party tonight we went to Moses where the food is basic hamburger, fries with smiley faces, and ice cream for dessert. That whole area of Ramat Hachayal, near the new Assuta hospital, is high tech – with lots of basic fast food. I asked for a doggie bag but someone in the kitchen forgot, so i wound up taking home a free kid’s meal for Shusha. Not bad for service.
Oct 242009
It has been a while since we’ve visited the Land of Israel Museum, even though I buy many many gifts from the store there. The thing that spurred me on today was the fact that the sand sculptures of landmarks in old Tel Aviv were going to be dismantled, or rained on, this week. So we ventured out in the heat of the day to see them, and then raced for the cafeteria for a drink, before we hid in the rothchild building at the exhibit of “faces.” The website doesn’t begin to illustrate the marvel of this exhibit, and the local fascination with others.
I mean eye contact and staring for starters. I can pick an Israeli out of a crowd because he is likely to be looking at someone else. The old story goes that the only reason people don’t make love in the streets of Tel Aviv is that everyone else would be stopping to give advice. It’s not necessarily sympathy, but definitely curiousity.
Having grown up with all kinds of political activity on campus, I have always been surprised that so little is visible at the universities here. Maybe they think we have enough politics in this country, or maybe the students are too busy earning a living, or maybe people are trying to get a broader and more intelligent perspective on the specific situation, but the amount of actual political activity on campus is pretty minimal. So I was a little surprised to read Benjamin Pogrund’s piece in the pages of Ha’aretz today. Then I remembered how I graduated from the University of Rochester in 1966. Our distinguished speaker was Richard M. Nixon, coming back from a long silence after “You won’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore.” And we all know it was going to be trouble. A large group of us didn’t want to attend the ceremony but we were warned that we wouldn’t get our degrees, and so there was a brief movement to show up, but turn our chairs around on the green in protest when he began speaking. But we didn’t. We sat there and listened to him, and from that day he came back into politics, became president, and I left the U.S. instead. Often I regret my silence, but then I remember: At the very least, the campus is supposed to be a place of open discussion on all sides.
Maybe there was a dinner invitation tonight i forgot about. I keep feeling there should have been something happening today but i don’t even have the energy to look in my diary. If you missed me at your table, I’m sorry. Really. But my days of bouncing around Tel Aviv on Thursday nights are past. Dinner at some friends, a little dessert on the beach, maybe a drink after at shesek… Not tonight Josephine. How did we ever spend our thursday nights from midnight to two cheering Sharon Moldavi at Roxannes? And how do people still do that kind of thing (of course in much smaller nightclubs now, but the principle remains the same). You’re going to have to look for other blogs to get the heartbeat of Tel Aviv. I’m just going to order a pizza and watch the stupid news.
You would think, wouldn’t you, that with all these exercises going on aiming to defray the rockets aimed at us from everywhere there would be at least a little talk about really large tennis rackets to bounce the bombs right back at the sender, wouldn’t you?
Nonsense? maybe, but the real news is not much better.
Ziggy Frankel used to say that the health clinic is like life; you know when you come in but you have no idea when you’ll leave. It used to be like that. I remember going for x-rays in Zamenhoff clinic (General Health Program) and coming home six hours later with a sick headache. So for a long time I was doing a super-duper program in Malram where you finish a dozen doctors in three hours and then do a mammogram and then go to work. But this year I’ve gone back to the health clinic, and today went for a mammogram in the spanking new electronic Maccabi building on Yigal Alon Street.
I wasn’t sure about where to turn, so I asked the lady in the car next to me at the light, and she said she too was on her way there and didn’t know so we could get lost together. For a moment I remember the fights people used to get into about their place in line and it occurred to me to figure out how to get there before her and race up to register, but then I remembered that times have changed and people have become just a bit more civilized.
We did get there, although the signs were not to clear because of all the building going on there, and I made it to the reception just in time. There I got onto the assembly line and was finished with the mammogram in 30 minutes, but like another few hazy people, was sent for an ultrasound down the hall. Unlike the previous waiting room which was filled with sympathetic partners, this one had a row of waiting women, most of them looking at the screen with their first names and last initials in the order they would be taken. “Karen,” they called, but I knew it was the karen with the tattooed eye makeup and not me, so I stayed seated as another woman came running up the aisle shouting, “That’s me! “I’m Karen too.” “No,” said the woman next to me who was crocheting a pink and turquoise baby coverlet.”There is order here for everyone.” “Just take it easy,” the woman in a white head scarf added, “When there are clear guidelines for everyone, you can relax.”
In fifteen minutes I was dressed and heading home. Unlike life, the health clinic is best enjoyed when the duration is short.
To answer your question George – yes – i was writing a story with a little moral
i was about to write a few lines yesterday when a visitor interrupted me, and reminded me of the publicness of this society. Like in American comedy series, but unlike real life in America, people knock on the door all the time – sometimes on a whim, sometimes because of a vague promise to ‘drop over in the afternoon,’ and sometimes because they’re been invited. But the person, at least in my life, comes before everything else. So apologies to all my virtual friends.
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