Friends in a Vegan World

I was cleaning my bag out yesterday, at a Jerusalem vegetarian/vegan club, careful that no one should see the recipes I had printed out for chicken lo mein with ginger and a variety of other prohibited dishes. My friend whispered to me, while looking at someone wearing a t-shirt with a picture of an angry cow that read 'I'll eat YOU fucker!' - "watch it, they're fascist vegetarians". None of us really knew what the word "fascist" meant, even though she's got a Masters and we laughed about it. We just know it's mostly used to describe people/regimes that hate/are intolerant. One day I'll look the word up in a dictionary.

But the Jerusalem Veggie Society is situated somehow in a luxurious neighborhood, across from the prime minister's house, and I wondered how on earth did this Society afford such digs? While we waited for what my friend called our zen (vegan) pizzas "one with everything", I cried bitterly on her shoulder and laughed hysterically at her "zen pizza" request.

I cried because Hubby lost his job 3 weeks ago and I'm nervous as hell as to how to pay our bills and eat, plus my son is avoiding the army, even though it'll give him the discipline he so desperately needs. I bemoaned the fact that I had bought him a Galaxy II phone and am paying for it dearly, but it was on condition that he serve in the army, which I thought he would do in August. Plus I think he's becoming a gambling addict and this really, really worries me. What little money he makes from waitering he runs to the local shop and buys soccer Toto tickets.

My friend and I find a big airy quiet room where I can cry to her, laugh, and we speak in lines from various Beatle movies, as we have done since we were both 14 years old. It's so comforting to act the same way you did when you were 14 and didn't have such adult worries on your head.

Someone comes into our room and sits down by the big piano and plays Dylan and Leonard Cohen. The chai tea, the surprisingly good vegan food and the quiet guests milling around and sitting on bean bags soothe me. It almost made me want to trash those darn meat recipes hidden deep in my bag.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Peace in the Middle East - in 15 minutes

Traveling to Jerusalem from Ma'ale Adumim can be a test of patience as a 15 minute trip can turn into 45 minutes with traffic. However we do have an express lane for busses and for cars with 3 or more passengers. This morning, someone who wanted to travel the express lane, offered me a lift. I've taken rides with him before.

As we drove along the highway, we watched as several young Arab teenagers crossed the highway and made their way through the fence up to an Arab village.

My driver muttered - "future terrorists".

I looked at him. "They're young Bedouins. How can you say that? What if they're not."

"They're all future terrorists."

"Why do you think that?"

I thought let me try to listen to him, rather than me lecture him for being small-minded. And that's when the conversation took a turn for the unexpected.

"Because of how we treat them."

"Go on."

"If you were in their shoes, and every day you had to go through checkpoints and have 19 year old soldiers humiliate you and tell you to put your hands up against the wall, you'd want to strap explosives to your body as well."

"I haven't seen that in quite some time. Not since the Intifada."

"Go to checkpoint 300. Have you seen these checkpoints? This goes on every day."

"What would be your solution?"

Now this is not me talking, remember. I'm just asking the questions.

"I'd get rid of the checkpoints and fences and walls. All of them. Everyone should have Blue ID cards (Israeli IDs) and get rid of the inequality. Why give everyone a hard time with permits and checkpoints. It's common sense that people who want to work aren't going to commit terror acts. They should just let them go without hassling them.

Then if anyone, and I mean anyone, commits a terrorist act because of race, religion - whether that person is a Muslim, Jew, Christian or jackass - we should forcibly move the terrorist's relatives, all their relatives - to a special place in the Negev and let them all rot. Then you will see how there won't be one single terrorist attack. No one would be giving out sweets, that's for sure."

Empty Nest

"Anyone have a basketball?" asked Hubby by the bus stop where this really tall woman stood in front of him. He never ceases to embarrass me in public. I was praying she didn't understand English. I'll have to do an awful lot of praying because it seems to be just the two of us around the house lately.

With the older two married, the third working 6 days a week and around the clock, the 4th daughter working in Salt Lake City, Utah and my son in army jail, it sure is pretty quiet around here. We have nothing to argue about. We're like these quiet old couples who just watch the sunset and walk up and down the block.

My serenity was spoiled this afternoon when I put on some Beatles music and the remaining daughter at home yelled at me to "turn the music down." Huh? Since when are we switching roles?

I celebrated our first Sabbath in a quiet home with just the three of us by ordering take away Chinese - advertised as a Shabbat special for about $35 - happy that I didn't have to cook this weekend. I had so much time on my hands, no one bugging me to get them this and that and borrowing money from me and the general torture kids put their parents through. Nothing.

I worried a bit about my daughter who is deep in Mormon country who had never travelled before in her life. She landed in New York a few days ago en route to Salt Lake City and was enthralled with the Big Apple - even though it was just JFK airport.

"Who is JFK?" she asked me. They don't learn American History here and I gave her a crash course in 1960s American history right then and there on the way to the airport this past Monday.

She loved the friendly and helpful people she met during her 5 hour stopover at JFK which seemed to reflect the general excitement of the city. She messaged me on Facebook in perfectly spelled English. I knew she had managed to cajole someone into writing the message for her. Her English spelling is absolutely atrocious and goes something like - "Hai mami, hoo ar yoo?"

This daughter is the partying type, which is another reason why I'm antsy about the fact that she's in Salt Lake. Mormons don't even drink coffee, so how is she going to feed her restless soul? I googled Festivals in Utah and got the following info which frightened me even more.

"In the fall, get lost and find your way out of a giant corn maze, cheer on pig races, and then shoot corn cannons and pumpkin blasters at the Cornbelly's Corn Maze and Pumpkin Fest at Thanksgiving Point."

I'm wondering how will she survive?

Jailhouse Rock

"We're going to jail" said Hubby to the kid sitting next to him on the bus, who smiled as one would when you're sitting next to someone you think is crazy. We were actually going on what I've been calling "an adventure" to visit my son in military jail. He turned himself in last week, good boy that he is, and he was utterly despondent at withdrawal from Facebook, Cola, sugar, Samsung Galaxy phones, and his computer. Plus he called me on Friday night, nearly in tears because his Sabbath food was absolute shit. What does he expect? He's in prison.

In order for us to visit him, there's this procedure where you have to pick up this permit slip, with your ID #, allowing you access to visit the jail. I applied two days before the visit to ensure that we will be able to get a permit. The young woman assured me it will be faxed to my office before 10 am the day of the visit so that I'll have ample time to get there.

"Can't you email it to me?"

"We don't have email"

How primitive.

Then the day before the visit, my son calls to tell me he's moving to a jail further north. Way north,near Haifa. Fantastic. Now I have to do this bureaucratic crap all over again and make a new request for a permit. Somehow at that moment, I felt very Palestinian, waiting for details on my permit to be able to enter some place in Israel and not knowing if it will come at all. Looking at the bus schedule, I calculate it will take us 5 hours and 3 buses to get there. We'd never make it by 1:00, our designated visiting time. I had to think fast and knew that the only way to do this was to rent a car. This was gonna be an expensive day out. I get to my work and there's no fax. No permit. I'm livid. It's a 2 1/2 hour drive and I have only 1/2 hour before I need to get on the road. The military office in Jerusalem is not answering the phones.

"They're probably just sitting there drinking coffee while the phone's ringing" said one of my co-workers.

I get to the office and storm upstairs to get my permit.

"You were supposed to have this permit faxed before 10 am to my office. I'm supposed to visit my son today!!!"

"There's no visiting hours today." said the girl.

"What??"

"Only Mondays and Wednesdays"

It was Wednesday and this idiot hadn't a clue what day it was. After convincing her that it is indeed Wednesday she ran to get the thing stamped and off we went, while another person in another office called me on my cell to ask me where to fax the permit. "Sweetie, you're late with faxing and we're on our way."

"But you can't get in without the fax!"

"Exactly. Which is why I didn't wait for you. I went straight to the head office."

By this time, all this bureaucracy was making me dizzy and nauseous.

We drive in the pouring rain and when I say pouring it's like a monsoon, without the strong wind, for a good half an hour and the highway is flooded in a few places. We drive real slow. I'm thrilled that Hubby is a good driver and can get through this. We see a lightning bolt hit a power line and we both jump.

We get to the jail 1/2 hour before 1:00 but it's 1:20 before they let us in and only because some giant gorilla of a man, one inmate's dad, banged hard on the metal door and yelled "HEY!!!! THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING HERE TO GET IN. WHAT'S GOING ON???" and you'd think with him banging and screaming like that, they'd purposely make us wait more. But I guess force works and in a minute the door opened for us. There was a Druze woman who was visiting her son who didn't want to serve in the IDF at all. She said her other sons did but he, the youngest, didn't want to. After 7 years of being AWOL, they finally picked him up and carted him off to jail. Seven years!!!

We hug our son, who is growing a beard because they took away his electric shaver. We hug him some more and feel sorry for him, but he seems happy. He likes his new jail.

"I know so many people here, my good friend is here and the food is much better than the other jail. I had 4 plates of pasta for lunch! My tent is heated too."

They wake him up at 4:30 in the morning for roll call and he goes to bed by 8:00 pm. Far cry from the all nighters on his computer.

We gave him two chocolate bars, the fancy ones he wanted with the rice and M&M's. That's all he asked us for. Other people came with bagfuls of junk food and home-cooked meals, and it's like a family picnic during a holiday when the parks are full. After 45 minutes an officer tells him visiting time is up. They are strict with time.

Everything we spoke about, he was like "no problem". "No problem this" and "no problem" that. We kind of like this new obedient child of ours.

The Good and Bad of Praying

Well I can see that God doesn't want me to pray that much to him. I got ill on Rosh Hashana and wanted to pray for Gilad Shalit's release in synagogue. I even had a special prayer printed out on a large piece of paper and the person leading the service asked me to read the prayer. But I couldn't go after all that preparation and the piece of paper just hung out in my kitchen along with the other "to do" things, in a pile. And thankfully, despite my not having prayed for his release, he was released anyways.

Now there's Sukkot. I had gone to see Israeli heavy metal band Orphaned Land in Tel Aviv and we were one of the very few over 50s there. We waited in line with all these teens wearing black Metallica and Marilyn Manson t-shirts and they looked at us as if we were parental spies. Then we just talked to them and I think they were actually thrilled that someone of our age would listen to them at all, never mind sharing a love of the same music. Some of these kids flew in from Switzerland and Germany, where this band has a huge following and plays metal festivals in front of 100,000 fans. I especially love the band's ethos, which is to get Arabs (from many different countries) and Israelis/Jews together through their music with the way they combine religious texts/music into their songs. Who said heavy metal is all about war, blood and destruction? And to top it all off, their lead singer looks like a tattooed Jesus. In fact, one teenage fan from Europe said if Kobi was Jesus, he'd go to church.

I was surprised that standing in the front, people were friendly, that I wasn't crushed, that people wouldn't kill me (as I feared from going to a metal concert)and I even sensed a spiritual energy from the audience to the band and vice versa. Their music is metal, but has a Middle Eastern element in it, and as they explained in a video shown right before their show, they used to sit in synagogues filled with Iraqi and Libyan old men and listen to their liturgy which would the get incorporated into their music. I laughed as I pictured these long-haired tattooed men, sitting in shul with these elderly men, who probably didn't know what hit them. That's why I'm so intrigued. One fan said he had come from Germany and would never have stepped foot in Israel if it weren't for them, and was astounded at how warm, friendly and open Israelis are. "They even invited me to stay over their homes and they are total strangers!" But our age showed as after the show, I didn't stick around for the "meet and greet" the band had with their fans and as it was, we got home at 4:00 am, even after our own children trudged in with their partying.

The next morning my daughter and I were having our coffee together and she told me how much she loved her boyfriend.

She said, "He told me that he hadn't had dated seriously in years and that for a year and a half, all he did was pray that he'd find the right one."

And I looked at my daughter, the one who usually complains about everything, and laughed until I was hoarse and I thought, - oh dear. This poor guy prays to God for a year and a half and this is what he gets? Oy vey. But he does seem to believe that God has answered his prayers and that's all that matters.

More Highs on the Holidays

Yom Kippur went better than expected. My kids were asking me all sorts of questions - like my still AWOL son asking me - 

"Mom, what will happen if I break the fast?"

"Nothing really. You just won't feel quite part of the community at large if you do, but you'll feel really good if you don't break your fast. Like you'll have this amazing 'yay! I did it' moment."

My growling Hubby was continously reminding me of one sin in particular that I do (going to Arab homes/restaurants to eat their "halal" meat), so I left him at home to seethe with my sins in mind, while I went to synagogue for Kol Nidre services. I hadn't gone seriously to synagogue for Yom Kippur in years because I can't follow the Kurdish, Yemenite, Moroccan, Iraqi, Syrian services that are all over the place in my neighborhood, plus the familiar Ashkenazi one is too dry with all those perfect "real housewives of Maaleh Adumim". I don't fit in. Period. But a Conservative congregation just sprung up over the past year and they were really trying to make a go of it in this mostly Orthodox-ruled enclave. Afraid that it was going to be just a ho-hum service, I was happily surprised. For one, they began with three people, each doing a different version of Kol Nidre. The energy was good, inclusive and happy. They mixed in a bit of Sephardic (middle-eastern) melodic liturgy which I was thrilled to sing along to and was able to easily follow. It felt like family. After all, isn't this exactly what my family has become with my daughters all marrying/dating into Sephardic families from Tunisia, Turkey, Spain and Morocco? So I really felt a kinship with the service and with the congregants who were also a mixture of Jews from all over the place, albeit without any Ethiopians. The next day I attended the "Neila" closing service, which was led beautifully by an Orthodox woman who was open-minded enough to do the service in front of a mixed-seated crowd (Conservative congregations have mixed gender seating, as opposed to Orthodox, which separate men and women during services). People brought cakes, fruit and soft drinks to break their fast and it was lovely to mingle afterwards with this very friendly new-found community.  I brought in the Muslim Ramadan custom of breaking the fast with a date and water and explained this custom to a few people.

Sukkot is probably my favorite holiday because I get off from work, and there are no restrictions on what you can eat, like there is on Passover. Having all meals in the sukkah with my kids and their friends smoking nargilahs in the sukkah make it very enjoyable.

On the first day, I trotted off to Tel Aviv rather early in mid-afternoon. I wanted to see the sunset over the port, which is always breathtaking and I knew that people would be in the holiday spirit (i.e.it would be crowded everywhere). We caught the last bit of sunset over the boardwalk

and wandered over to the indoor food market

where there were a few unique restaurants and sat ourselves down to the tapas bar and had a couple of dishes.

Grilled okra with zucchini and eggplant on the bottom

Even though I don't eat seafood, the grilled calamari that the man sitting next to me ordered looked so incredibly delicious, I felt like grabbing it off his plate, when he wasn't looking...just to taste...but I did control myself.  I did.

Walking around the port several times, we revelled in the hustle and bustle of the happy holiday spirit that was all over the place before heading over to Reading 3 for a concert (to be continued...).

Pre Yom Kippur Reflections

Tonight is Yom Kippur.  I should be reflecting on past wrongs, apologizing to people, my family, strangers I accidentally knock over on  buses, etc.  I'm astounded at people at work these past few days, with whom I only have a minor working relationship, who tell me at the end of their conversations "I'm sorry if I did anything wrong to you".  Honey, all I call you for is to ask you about various meetings.  It's nothing personal.  But these people are apologizing to me left and right.

I was in a foul mood yesterday, thinking I don't even want to fast, I don't want to pray, nothing.  Of course, I'll still fast and I might even pray a little bit, but I'm still a little ticked off at God who I blamed for my stomach flu on the second day of Rosh Hashana.  I had made arrangements to go into Jerusalem to go to services at my Jewish renewal congregation and had been looking forward to it for weeks.  But obviously He didn't want to hear any of my prayers, so there.  I'm also working 12 hour days to pay off government tax debt that our wonderful Israeli government heaped on Hubby for the time he was in business and I blamed God for putting this bureaucracy in place where they run after the regular guy with no mercy whatsoever and tax middle income earners to the high heavens.  Perhaps that's where those bureaucrats should actually go?

Hubby has been acting like a troll of late as well and it hasn't been easy.  Today, as I filled out the form for the special  kapparot ceremony of sending this money to charity instead of us all dying for our sins, I thought about leaving out my husband's name on the form, but I would have felt  so guilty if he would have indeed croaked this year.   We used to do this ceremony as it is originally done with live chickens swinging over our heads, while praying that they will go to their deaths and not us - but I didn't think it was too humane to do this anymore to these animals.  They are always so frightened during this ceremony, squawking like mad, as if they understand the Hebrew prayer sentencing them to death instead of the humans.

And I didn't feel so alone in my foul mood at the local mall, where the lines were huge at the newspaper/bookstore.  People were buying books as if they'll be locked indoors for months and the line was excruciatingly long.  Everyone was complaining - especially after someone was asked for her ID after buying hundreds of shekels of books and she was insulted - "the people who worked here previously never asked for my ID!".  "But we don't know who you are..." said the saleswomen, prompting everyone on line to yell at these people - both customer and saleswoman -  to get to know each other some other time in the week, not today, when the fast begins at 4:38.  

Another gripe of mine.  The religious authorities made Daylight Savings one hour earlier last week so the fast should begin early and end early.  But I don't want to fucking start a fast at 4:38.  By 9:00 at night I'll be starving!!!!  Why couldn't they just let things be?  I wouldn't have to eat the pre-fast dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon, but at a more normal time of 4:30 in the afternoon  if the fast would have begun at 5:30 pm. What is so wrong with that!!??

But I'll be happy when it's all over and we're all munching on bagels and cream cheese to break our fast.  If I feel energetic enough, I'll even make cauliflower soup.  But maybe I'm too hard on God.  Maybe I ought to do some apologizing.  After all, He's got a lot of fixing to do in this world.....