Hello Dalai

A very interesting article in today's Haa'retz magazine. First of all, I've been meaning to contact Rabbi Gafni about our peace work because he is not your conventional rabbi and because I feel a closeness to non-conventional spiritual beings - be they rabbis and/or llamas or popes and sheikhs.

Plus the fact that there seems to be a spiritual connection between India/Tibet/Tibetans/Buddhists to Israel/Judaism/Israelis - and India, particularly Dharmsala, is high on my hit list of places to see before I get too old to travel.

But what raised my eyebrows (way up) was the fact that this Rabbi actually talked sex with His Holiness. I was like - what if they guy doesn't know what you're talking about?? Maybe he's never had it. Slow down Rabbi."

But maybe if you are on a holy level, you don't think of it as I do and certainly not as Hubby does - as in wham-bam-thank-you-maam. Maybe Holy people think of sex on a different level. Who knows. I'll never be on that level anyways. And I certainly would never have had the guts to talk about sex with the Dalai Lama if I had a chance for an encounter. No, no, I would truly shudder at the thought.

But the part I absolutely thought was the greatest was this one - and I quote

"The rabbi takes out the fabric he bought in the market the day before, orange silk cloth such as the Tibetan monks use. He asked an Israeli woman named Idit to sew tzitzit (ritual fringes) in each corner and then he had a totally kosher tallit (prayer shawl). With much grace and decorum, he presents it to the Dalai Lama.

"Ho!" the Dalai Lama calls out, moved. "This is wonderful Jewish-Tibetan merger. How wonderful." After the rabbi explains its kabbalistic meaning to a very attentive Dalai Lama, he wraps himself in it, chortling delightedly. Then he gives us white silk scarves, as is the custom when parting - and gets a skullcap. He and the rabbi embrace and their love for each other is felt by everyone. Everyone bows to the Dalai Lama; he bows in return and leaves.

I was caught in the garden. Suddenly the Dalai Lama emerged from behind me, wearing the skullcap and prayer shawl, on the way to his next meeting. "I am a Tibetan Jew! A Tibetan Jew!" Pleased as punch he was."

I would have given anything to see a photo of this.

To see the full article click here

I need a coping with men pill

"Come into the board room as quickly as you can" - barked the Professor I work with. The tone in his voice meant I didn't have the time to say " could you wait a minute while I click on "save" so we don't lose the fucking document?

And then I ended up reading a 7 page biography 30 times for him over a period of 3 hours. Tedious, mindless work.

I was relieved when he went to a meeting for the rest of the afternoon, so I could rush back to my office to "save" my document - fortunately there were no electrical mishaps and my document was still there.

And then grumpy Hubby who'd rather go for the false teeth than take care of his own teeth. He's been moaning in pain for 2 days now but you won't see him sitting in any dentist's chair.

"And where do you think you'll find your false teeth, sweetheart" I asked him gently this afternoon.

"At Shopper's Drug Mart?"

He is an awful excuse for a human specimen when in pain. I'd like to kick his hynie way over the Atlantic back to Canada where he could freeze his goddamn molars.

He came to the table tonight sweat pouring off his head.

"What's the matter dad - YOU goin' through menopause" asked my 21 year old daughter.

And then my teenage son wanted to watch the movie "Scream" for the 514th time and not let my overworked 21 year old near the TV. We managed to wrestle the television controller from him though so we could watch "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and "America's Next Top Model" -

I need to write a report for my interfaith group on our meeting last Monday. I might be able to get it done - if the men in this world let me....

God - what more d'ya want from us!!!!

I dunno. I watched the Israeli movie Ushpizin over the weekend - a strong movie about all things going wrong over the Jewish holiday of Succot for this newly-Chassidic man and his wife but they never lose their faith despite everything and things turned out the way they wished in the end. A happy ending.

I knew the day was not gonna go ok from this morning - we got a notice from the City that it's unlawful to have plastic storage sheds on your balcony. Our balcony is huge and could fit 10 of them. But after Hubby bought the 2nd one, either a jealous neighbor or a city employee passing by complained about it. We have one month to remove them - even though there's no storage space inside our home. Hubby invited the engineer to our home. The engineer wanted us to bring him floor plans. We don't have floor plans - we are renters. But go explain anything to these people.

That was the least of our troubles today. Hubby had to go to debtor's court and I had to go to my Criminal Daughter's reformatory to see where they would put her at the end of the month. Hubby tried to get out of debtor's court, but some creditor's lawyer was there making it difficult for him. Meanwhile, the ex-Criminal felt awful about her dad not being there. I tried to explain that Dad would go to jail if he didn't show up in court - but try explaining anything to a self-centered 15 year old. The judgement for her was harsh. They felt she still needed additional protection from the outside influences and guidance and therapy and are putting her in a place similar to where she is now - only much closer to home. She was miserable thinking she could handle it in a more open atmosphere and cried bitterly. I felt like a helpless mother, but told her it will all be for the good. She must feel like I hate her.

Getting back to Hubby, who couldn't read the applications in Hebrew and didn't have 100% of the things they asked for - just 95% - they froze MY bank account - because Hubby can't have one - and I just said "fuck it." I think God wants us to deal with our debts and settle with all the creditors NOW. Only one is an asshole - the rest will probably settle at a much lower amount. I had a strong feeling about it for a while, but this is the push I needed to really get going with it. Hubby can't leave the country while he is in debtor's court and I feel he has to go see his mother, whom he hasn't seen in nearly 10 years. And this is God's way of telling us - Just Do It.

Top nearly 30 searches in May that brought up Jerusalem Wanderings

Top (nearly) 30 Searches in May - These are some of the searches people did that brought up my site this month. I've labelled them as follows.

1. Garden Prayer Circle - normal
2. Overdose on Chocolates - normal - for me anyways
3. City Hall Jerusalem - normal
4. Step by step hackig (hacking) Arabic google - wacko
5. Real whores - sicko
6. Israeli fashion - normal
7. Tongue ring - wacko
8. Abraham's Wanderings - normal
9. Boombamela - normal

10. Bukharian porn (I featured first on that search) - SICKO
11. Fools of prophecy - wacko
12. Pretty gravesites - wacko
13. Who whore the kippa first - wacko

14. Tel Aviv Stripclub - SICKO
15. Writin' in Arabic - normal
16. Homeopath Jerusalem - normal
17. Gruzini Jews - wacko

18. What happened to the Jews in Medieval Spain - normal
19. Egyptian architecture - normal
20. Nigerian perspectives on Palestinian-Israeli conflict - wacko
21. learning how to speak gypsy – wacko
22.cleaning your penis on expeditions – WACKO AND SICKO
23. Jerusalem fashion - normal
24. Life in Jerusalem - normal
25. Conrad Schick- normal
26. Eliyahu acupuncture – a bit of a wacko

27. Synagogue in Spain- normal
28. Nasty Daughter - another unfortunate

29. Sikh temple - normal

goin' shopping

My friends were talking about the new store in the pedestrian mall called "C Cup and Up" - for women only.

"When you go inside there, you feel like everyone's watching from the street to see the women going into the store. It's so uncomfortable."

Sure. From the city that brings you the Jerusalem Syndrome, there is bound to be your freaks and perverts hanging around the Store for Big Boobed Women.

I'm shopping on Friday morning for groceries and two women are fighting by the fruits. In English. One is American and the other Russian. But both are yelling at each other in English.

"You're Stupid!"

"No, YOU'RE stupid."

"I'm not stupid. YOU'RE stupid."

"You're more stupid."

And I stood by the avocados staring at the two of them, thinking they're BOTH stupid.

Later that afternoon, unbeknown to me, Hubby went shopping. I thought he was just going for a haircut, but he came home with a silicone ring to put on his watchamacallit - "to please your woman" the hairdresser who sold it to him, told him. While he was describing the item to Hubby, the curiosity of other female patrons was perked. The innovative hairdresser sold quite a few of those "toys" in that hour.

A New Discovery

I feel like Columbus. I think I've just happened on a great discovery. I don't know who these guys are but they are cool and their video is great. I love slide guitar, I love Spanish music. I'm not crazy about rap, but it's there too - but since they're Jewish guys rapping, it's funny and I can relate. Check out this amazing video . It's called Gorrito Cosmico.

Israeli Gigolo

I was given 1/2 hour to go pick up some groceries - a rare luxury during working hours - in the company of the company's driver - a Israeli man of Morroccan extraction, close to 50 years old, who recently married for the first time, ever.

We're driving through these older Jerusalem neighborhoods and it's a trip down memory lane for him.

"This is where I had a girlfriend. On this street" he tells me. He goes on further.

"It's such a quiet neighborhood here. And she's screaming and screaming with me during the night. I tell her - sssshhhh!! Everyone can hear you!!!"

Like the dude's really embarrassed by it.

He continues..."In the neighborhood of Katamonim - EVERYONE screams. It's better there."

I'm grateful I live in the quiet neighborhood where no one screams - not even yours truly. Just the street cats who go a-howling through the night.

Conflicts and Confusion

Hubby laughed on the way to work yesterday.

"Did you see that Arab guy wearing a t-shirt with "Celebrate Israel's 50th anniversary" on it?" and he couldn't stop laughing about it.

And when I went to today's meeting of the Interfaith coordinators at Notre Dame, I saw a group of Orthodox Jewish girls - some wearing right wing slogans on their t-shirts - being given a lesson on the place by their teacher, a young bearded man, while the Palestinians in the security booth looked at them and wondered what they were doing having a history lesson on the street in front of their place.

I still am totally confused thinking about Saturday's events - like - did the soldiers not want us to speak to Palestinians on Saturday or were they just simply following orders that we couldn't be in that particular area because of security reasons.

Were the two settlers sitting near the home where we were visiting just out for a Sabbath stroll or were waiting to see who was visiting their "enemy" and were they out to hassle us too? The fear was so great that our hosts asked that we climb a ladder in the other direction, through olive groves to get to our van waiting on a main street. This thing - which should have been no more than a 5 minute walk on a main road took us 15 minutes, through olive groves, brambles, steep dirt and rocky steps and through other people's courtyards and garbage dumps that I was thrilled to be back in the taxi.

Our Hebron host called me laterthat evening to make sure I got back ok. He gets hassled daily, but thinks of calling ME to make sure I'm ok. Amazing. Things like this make it worthwhile for me to go through the hassle of meeting the other.

Tonight is Eliyahu's peace party. I'm going and speaking and am curious who will show up. But say a little prayer for him because he needs to move out of his rented apartment and into another one by July 1st - and he needs a place with a big enough living room so he could continue having these monthly peace parties. He's also asked me to belong offically to the Jerusalem Peacemakers Circle - I accepted which means God will have to see to it that I have the time to undertake all of these important things.

Running from the Troops

I hadn't done any "field" peace activities lately, other than the Jerusalem stuff I do and the call for a solidarity visit to Palestinian families in Hebron sounded quite desperate. I told Hubby.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't be doing all this shit."

"I need my adrenaline going. Fox News just doesn't do it for me, honey. Not even with their heightened 'terror alert-elevated' signs flashing constantly across the screen. I'm so sorry."

And off I went. The crowd was a good mix of people - about 40 strong. Off we went in 4 Ford Transits. We were warned that the army may not let us through to talk to these families - perhaps because they expected a very large crowd and didn't want a strong or any confrontation between the settlers and the Israel Palestinian-sympathizers with the army having to get into the middle of all of this. Each van was equipped with a "walkie talkie" informing us of what lied ahead. We were notified that our Israeli van wouldn't be allowed into Palestinian controlled areas so we got out to continue our travels in the large yellow Palestinian taxis. While driving into Hebron some asshole swiped the side of our car while making a turn and not wanting to wait while our car passed. Miraculously, even though our van veered onto oncoming traffic - no one got hurt, not even a whiplash. I was shaken for about 60 seconds and then we all didn't want to attract too much attention to ourselves - lest our visit be sabotaged - and got into a passing taxi. The driver was really curious.

"You're Israeli?"

I'm sure it was many years ago that he last transported Israelis around Hebron. We all spoke quite animatedly in a mixture of English, Arabic and Hebrew. We told him we wanted to go to Tel Rumeida.

"To visit Jewish families??" he asked

Now he sounded worried. His smile returned when we told him we were visiting Palestinian families.

We stopped all together in a marketplace and after 10 minutes saw a troop of Israeli soldiers coming our way.

"Follow me" shouted someone in the Christian Peacemaker's Team that organized this.

I did as I was told. I followed her and didn't look back because the soldiers were in full battle gear and looked scary. Even that they were my own. The soldiers ran past me to grab someone else from our group. I walked passed them, as if I always encounter these kinds of things and followed this young woman into this Palestinian family's courtyard. Some more of us eventually got to where I was. We were a group of 10. I was nervous for the families thinking the soldiers might follow us and that the last thing these families need are Israeli soldiers traipsing through their property. But the families weren't fazed by any of this and were more curious as to what we were doing here. I told them

"we're Jewish Israelis from Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, hiding from Israeli soldiers."

That sounded real weird and I said it again to everyone within earshot. We got a call from someone who was with the rest of the group. Apparently, they were all arrested and detained at a police station nearby. It's illegal for Israelis to be in Palestinian-controlled area A. And that's where we were. Even if we take responsibility for our own safety. There was so much urgency in the soldier's voices, I really believe that they believe that every Arab in Hebron is a terrorist. And if anything happened to our group, it would cause a major incident. A political backfire, a whatever. But we were here on a mission. And that mission needed to be carried out no matter what.

Someone led us through a back path up the mountain until we got to this doctor's home. Very much like James Bond – we walked in silence, looking to see if the coast was clear of soldiers – and went into the living room. He told us his story – about his home being vandalized, about his being beaten into a coma and his kids wondering why he didn't use the big knife they had in the kitchen. After 1/2 hour we were ushered into another home, more dangerous, right beneath a settler compound in Tel Rumeida.

Tel Rumeida is historically where King David is said to have had his palace. I don't think any excavation was carried out anywhere on this Tel, but I thought of him while I walked on those paths. And I knew why the Jews chose to live there.

Sitting beneath a grape vine, this family was also constantly harassed by settlers – the teenage kids smashed their little boys face into the ground and crushed his teeth. The kid showed the photo around to the crowd. It seemed barbaric and so sad. They are virtually prisoners and are afraid for their kids to walk around, so no one ventures out too often. The main roads are blocked for them, so that they must use the dirt steps and path to go uphill – with groceries, etc. I walked it and it ain't an easy walk.

Despite all this, I didn't hear hate in their voices towards the settlers. Only pain. I didn't hear that the settlers should move away from them, etc. (although I did hear the Israelis say it – more than once). I told them what I do - organizing interfaith dialogue groups that discuss commonalities in our religions in order to respect each other's beliefs and faith. They were so excited about it and said they have no problem with this and wouldn't mind having a dialogue with any of the settlers. Meanwhile, I invited them to an upcoming dialogue in June in the Bethlehem area, which would be easier for them to get to, not having to obtain an Israeli permit. And I was touched when I quoted my friend Eliyahu's quote "The land doesn't belong to you or to me. It's God's land" , and they all shook their heads in agreement, that claimed ownership of land is what is causing all this strife and grief. I was touched when the Palestinian hostess told us that she invited us because she wanted her children to see another kind of Israeli. A good Israeli. That not all of them are made of hate. And this took a lot of courage. On both sides.

Restless woman rant

I felt I was doing ok with myself until I saw something totally evil in the house the other day that I hadn't seen in years. A scale. Unfortunately I stepped on it - and it didn't lie to me. My daughter bought it because it was on sale. I could personally think of alot of other and better things I would buy on sale - rather than that. But never mind. It's a sign from God. The hot summer is a good time to scale down (pun intended) on eating, especially when you feel like drinking water all day long and let's see what happens.

I was noticing out all the Peace stuff going on this week. It seems that that is what they are concentrating on these days. Then the kite flying for peace yesterday, the Gypsy music thing at 2:00 in the Russian Compound that I promised Amoun I would go to, and on Saturday the solidarity visit to Tel Rumeida in Hebron and the silent peace walk in Hawarra.

Hubby rarely joins me on any of these, opting to take me out instead for a lovely rural-side breakfast-brunch.

"If there was an organization called Sex for Peace, I'll join." he muttered on the way to breakfast. So I missed the Kites for Peace thing at 1:00 pm and we passed by a gorgeous flower nursery and spent all our time looking at the exotic and beautiful plants so that I missed the Gypsy thing as well.

The "silent" people of the Walk on Saturday called me to see if I would join. I would mean getting to Jerusalem. Then catching a taxi to Tel Aviv then waiting for someone I never met before to pick me up in her car and then we'd be off to that place. Too much of a hassle for me on the Day of Rest. I opted out.

Perhaps the solidarity visit to the Arabs in Tel Rumeida. Last time I was there was perhaps 7 years ago on a solidarity visit to the Jewish residents there with the Women in Green. Before I embarked on my Peace ventures. I remember waving this huge Israeli flag while I walked around, protected on all 4 sides by Israeli Defense Forces finest. My take then was a bit different obviously. I still think it should be a mixed city of Jews and Arabs because it's a holy city for both - but there's no dialogue there, just alot of hatred towards the other. I'm thinking of going there today, to see what is going on - on the side I didn't care to see seven years ago.

You are what you wear

I was looking at this girl's ankles yesterday while she was brewing up some coffee at the shuk coffee shop. I don't have a foot fetish or anything but it takes one kind of person to recognize his own. She was wearing a beaded ankle bracelet - the kind that the Bedouin sell in Sinai. I knew she had been there recently. I didn't have to ask her, I knew. Like others who stare at my jewellery and know where I'd gone. Like the white turbaned, and all dressed in soiled white cotton clothing rasta-haired cute guy I saw getting on the bus in Eilat. I knew he had just come back from Sinai. I didn't have to ask him. People don't dress like that wandering around Eilat.

When we were an Orthodox family living in Canada, we'd go for hayrides in the Ontario countryside farms with our small children. Hubby wore a cap instead of an obviously Jewish kippah on his head so he wouldn't stand out too much. We're talking hicks here who probably never met any Jews before. We'd occasionally stumble onto other families there whose father and sons also wore baseball caps and we knew that they too were from the tribe of Abraham, without having to talk to them.

I wouldn't dare

I had a routine mammogram done today. I told my kids I'm having my boobs squished and I dreaded the visit. It's no picnic having boobs squished against a pane of glass and the base of the machine. They do it four times. Vertically and horizontally. The techie was a woman who questioned me relentlessly about menopause since she was two years older and was wondering whether she was pregnant or whether it was menopause.

"Do you get nightsweats?" She asked, while crushing the glass or hard plastic down on my boobs.

"OUCH!!! Hasn't anyone come up with something better than this? Why are you doing this to innocent people? Why not just do this to criminals? No, I don't get night sweats, only hot flashes."

"Hot flashes? How long do they last?" she asked while crushing my boobs vertically this time.

"AAAAAAAYYYYYYYY don't have hot flashes more than a couple of minutes."

"There, don't breath" she said.

I don't dare to.

Back at the office the Professor called me from the West Coast of the USA - I didn't understand something someone had written and sent to him. I told him I had to check with the author of the document.

"You don't want to be a clerk, now DO YOU."

"Is this a promotion from being a SLAVE" I thought, but didn't dare say it.

Meanwhile, the reformatory was calling in between the Professor's calls from overseas telling me ex-Criminal hadn't arrived yet. She was 6 hours late and they were about to let the police know she was on the loose. I gave them her talkman phone number which we had given to her over the weekend. She was on leave from the place over the weekend and was supposed to spend her time with us. Instead she spent it with her boyfriend and family.

I blamed it all on daughter herself. But Hubby was pissed - not at her but at the boyfriend's family. "It's their fault for having her stay with them, for allowing it. I should go ahead and call them and tell them exactly what I think of them.

I wouldn't dare.

things that make you cringe

Friday the 13th. We have a slew of horror films being shown on all the movie stations here. But those things don't give me the horrors. Other things do.

Like when my Eldest Daughter spoke to me first thing this morning.

"Mom, why is your neck wrinkled?"

"Honey, I'm pushing nearly half a century. That's what happens as you near 100."

She looked mortified as if she was seeing me turn into Ms. Werewolf herself.

But we all take turns making each other cringe every now and then. Like today when Hubby took 3 of the kids to go shopping at our corner grocery store. He took a banana and started eating it and absentmindedly started scratching his underarms.

The local Israeli brat kids - about a gang of 4 around the ages of 5 to 8 - crowded around him pointing

"There's a monkey. That's a monkey man! Monkey man. Bald monkey man!!"

They were wild with glee.

My kids were like - er, we never saw this man before in our life. The were in fact absolutely cringing.

Even big Harley tattooed bikers cringe.

Yesterday I crashed my biker hairdresser's barbecue. He had other bikers there - one more tattooed than the rest. The most tattoed one is the head of a bike club - or as I know it from the States - a "gang". He seemed not to have found his niche in this country. So what are the gang members like?

He bellowed - "they want to stop and go into this coffee shop and get an Expresso. An Expresso!!! I mean why don't they just go and listen to fucking Abba music, for Christ's sake. Yeah, man, I'm gonna go and get a fucking Espresso? Like I wanna hang with you?"

No beer-guzzling bikers in the Middle East, unfortunately for him. He'll take a double espresso.

My Complainer Kid went with us yesterday and was appalled by the crowd.

"Americans. Full of them. And they all spoke English! And your friend... why doesn't she get married. Doesn't she know when she gets old she'll be all alone?"

And she looked at me like I'm the one responsible for my girlfriends' singlehoodness.

And the last time I remember cringing myself was when I went to the dentist this past week and he was talking about buying lox in 18 different flavors. The store he went into was in the "schvartza" neighborhood in LA, he told me. I took a look at his Ethiopian dental assistant and wondered if she knew what the word "schvartza" meant. (A yiddish term for black person - not as derogatory as the "N" word, but not politically correct.) I didn't react to his comments. Maybe she didn't understand Yiddish terms. I prayed she didn't. I really don't want to get the dental assistant upset and have her give the wrong stuff to the dentist to put into my mouth.

Happy Friday the 13th....Mwaaaaa haaa haaa

Independence Day and other stuff

Tonight we celebrate Independence Day. Independence Day from British Rule in 1948 and the creation of a Jewish state. Most Palestinians do not celebrate with us. They call this day the Nakhba or "disaster". So I've been laughing whenever my Palestinian friends wished me a Happy Holiday for today.

"and what will you be doing for the Nakhba?" I asked them.

Pity we don't celebrate Independence Day from the Brits together. But it just can't be for the moment.

Meanwhile, I'm still hoping the good Lord doesn't punish me for wanting to go back to my Paradise in Sinai. I miss it so much that I feel like those biblical Israelites who were reluctant to leave Sinai for the Holy Land. I was just reluctant to go back to the Holy Land, not because of the giant grapes or whatever those spies found there but because I didn't want to face my chronically complaining family, my bosses who work me to the bone. I felt healthier there. I was eating a proper 3 meals, was outdoors the whole day and not in front of a computer all day long. Meanwhile, the hotel manager called my daughter 4 times since Sunday asking when we'll be back and I've had to censor 2 photos so that the daughter's boyfriend doesn't hit the roof - the ones where she's picked up by Mohamed, the Karate black belt guy. He picked her up like a feather.

I teased Hubby that the reason I took my daughter was that I was sick and tired of being the only one in my family who everyone called an "arab lover". So now they'll have to include my daughter in that as well.

And then I came back to an influx of e-mails from the Rolling Stones list - because tickets have gone on sale for their US tour in the fall. I'm getting dizzy reading about how everyone got their seats, which row, which section, what the cost was. These people actually know on the spot exactly where section 35, row 6, Gate 3 is. They'll tell you it's in the back, side, 2nd tier, floor seats, etc. Over the years they have memorized the seating plan of every stadium and arena - so that when they have a choice of tickets online, they know which ones to pick. Astounding.

Egyptian architecture

Where the young people stay..

Our desert hike

Bedouin kids of Tarabin

A bit of coral by the shore

Octopus Garden

And as the sun rose

Sinai at Dusk

I'm Back

Upon returning to work this morning, my co-worker looked at my severely blistered feet and said to me.

"That's how everyone comes back from Sinai."

Bruised and happy. The Good Lord cannot give me the perfect vacation so something's gotta hurt.

Last Wednesday my reluctant 19 year old Good Daughter and I set out for the unknown. Everyone had told us to cancel this trip and my daughter told me she had a bad feeling about it - would something bad happen to us over there? With everyone cancelling out on me and my forcing my daughter to come with me, I thought pretty much the same thing, but I had this mysterious force pulling me towards the Sinai Desert. We entered the Egyptian border at Eilat after a pretty boring 4 hour bus ride from Jerusalem. It was quite desolate there at 7:00 pm and eerily quiet. The hotel sent a driver to meet us at the border and off we went. I didn't know whether the guy hated Israelis or is just your typical Egyptian driver. He went along the curves at over 100 KPH and passed other cars on CURVES (!) while daughter and I held hands tightly. She was sweating and I was getting a stress headache. We sauntered into our cozy pink hotel which seemed like a mirage after this ride of terror. Immediately 2 glasses of guava juice appeared together with the manager and owner of the place, wearing a cowboy hat and shorts.

"Have a drink. Put down your bags and let me show you around."

I didn't have time to catch my breath. We picked out our rooms (we were given a choice) and sat down for dinner.

"Welcome to Paradise" said a fellow Israeli with his wife to me. "You won't want to leave this place and this certainly won't be your last time here."

I felt as if I just stepped onto the set of Fantasy Island. From the minute we landed, the all-male staff pampered us. After dinner they lit a fire on the beach and the owner introduced me to everyone, while the young manager asked my daughter if she wanted to play "bool". We had a hard time figuring out what this Egyptian game of Bool was until we realized it was Pool, as in Snooker!!

For the rest of our stay there, the staff was amazing, flirting with us, but knowing their limits and were totally respectful. It was a perfect balance. The next day after telling the owner I'm scared to snorkle, he came with a snorkel mask and wet suit and raft, together with the French singer and her husband and the English woman whose name was Carol, but whom the staff called "Coral". They didn't budge until I put the friggin flappers on my feet and I was hauled off with the whole lot of them. I held onto the raft with one hand and to the owner with my other, while I actually did manage to dip my face in the water for an astounding coral reef show. I felt like I was tripping, looking at all the colorful fish. I laughed thinking of the Mafia saying "you'll be swimming with the fishes" and thought it really isn't too bad a thing.

The next day at low tide the entire area was alive with sea life. Wading up to my ankles I saw an orange octopus, crabs, starfish and every snail was alive and shimmying over the rocks. The Bedouin kids came by with sacks full of beaded jewellery and fawned over us. They were so cute I had to buy a shitload of ankle bracelets and necklaces (for next to nothing).

There were a few of us that bonded - the Israeli couple that welcomed us to Paradise as well as the French singer, who is famous in France and her husband, and the English woman from Devon. We did everything together. We took a jeep trip into the desert and hiked to an Oasis. The owner took us and the trip was on the house. He took us to his eccentric friend's home who built a replica of an ancient castle to live in, complete with tunnels, etc. It looked like the Flintstones meet the Crusaders.

And Carol kept us in stitches most of the time, called the diver Magid "Maggot" and teaching the entire male staff the Conga while sitting by the bonfire on the beach. The staff were not locals but were from Cairo for the most part save for a few that were from Luxor. Two of them fell in love with my daughter and talked with me about her the whole time. It was so sweet how open these young men were about their emotions - one confessing about his first love who got married to someone else. He seemed to be on the verge of tears while telling us this. They didn't think it unmanly to open up. They politely avoided any political discussion and didn't have opinions on anything political - at least not to us. Perhaps they were trained to be that way, and in that respect not offend anyone. But they said the local Bedouin resented them and called them all Pharoahs, which I thought was hysterical.

I saw the more luxurious Hilton Nuweiba which was a perfectly manicured place - but it looked so out of place in Sinai and I was glad I chose a more relaxed and authentic place. Most of the young people stay in "Chushot" - huts with thatched roofs with beds or mattresses in them but public bathrooms. I figured I'm too old to go camping and was so pleased with the staff that escorted us to the Tarabin Bazaars at night, so we wouldn't feel uncomfortable as two women walking around alone.

I don't know what it was about this place. I can be anywhere in the world having the greatest time and yet be thrilled to be going back to Jerusalem. But when we both got into the taxi with the staff coming outside to say their goodbye's to us, we both burst into tears as the cab left. I must say I did feel a bit guilty that I wasn't looking forward to coming back to the Holy City - but I guess I needed that bit of timelessness and a glance into Paradise.

Into Exile

in 24 hours - I will have put myself and my Good Daughter into temporary self-inflicted exile. Back to Egypt. Exodus in reverse.

But the good thing about going away is coming back to Israel. You get that "YES I'M HOME!" feeling which is absolutely exhilirating.

Everyone seemed nervous about my going there. I don't know why. Perhaps because of the travel warnings. But I continued to take buses in Jerusalem even when they were blowing buses up weekly. I had no other choice. So what's another travel warning.

I wanted to call up the hotel in Sinai to "suss them out". I wanted to hear their voices and feel what kind of place that was. I always get nervous before a trip.

I spoke to the people at the hotel. They spoke perfect English and were polite but reserved. But when Mohammad heard I was coming from Israel, he turned into my younger brother "MO".

"Hey what's up! You'll have a great time. We have other Israelis here. We have 5 girls your daughter's age. Nice girls. Good girls. Our restaurant is open until 1 in the morning."

I guess that was my biggest concern besides getting a mad driver at the border who may step on the gas pedal a little too hard for my liking. And probably never took driving lessons or passed a driving test to boot. But the hotel said they'd send a driver to the border for us. There's alot of quiet there and I'm packing alot of music and mosquito repellant and comfortable clothing. No fancy nightlife there, which will save me lots of space in our bags. And I feel like I'm about to be pampered in Exile.

I don't know if there is internet access - so if there is - I'll say hello, and if not - talk to y'all on Monday.

Ciao.

Ahhhh Sinai

I really need to be in a place where no one expects anything from me. Away from complaining children who do nothing but sleep all day, away from the demands of a family, from the job, from errands, from appointments, from volunteer work, from regimented schedules, from time, etc. And the one place in the world where you can do that is in Sinai.

Everyone I spoke to today about going down to Sinai would roll their eyes heavenward and sigh.

"aaaahhhhh. Sinaiiiiiii"

Everyone.

From the girls at work who had been there, to the ones working at the cellphone center where I switched phones - complete strangers. And from all of them it was the same reaction.

"aaaahhhhh. Sinaiiiiii"

Some were warning me that there were travel warnings out there - not to mention the terrorist attacks in Cairo over the weekend. But that didn't stop 20,000 Israelis from crossing the border into Egypt over the Passover holiday.

I tried to convince my Good Daughter to come along with me to Paradise - to the unspoiled beaches filled with beautiful coral and where the friendly dolphins swim right up to you.

"There's nothing to do there." she complained.

"That's the point. There should be nothing to do. We'll play card games and backgammon and read."

"I hate reading."

"I hate playing games."

I guess it will be equally a challenge for time-obsessed me to do nothing but pay attention to my daughter and look out into the Red Sea for hours. There may be a camel trek and Bedouin dinner to break up the monotony but not much more. And after tiredly preparing leftovers for dinner and cleaning up after everyone and cajoling my daughter to help my son with his homework and being unsuccessful in convincing my Complaining Daughter that a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico will be good for her and she continues to refuse to cooperate and call up someone who is making a movie about it - so that I believe I will cancel the whole deal with her- and when I want to send my son to sleepaway camp for 2 1/2 weeks, and he doesn't want to go to a "stupid camp" - I think I need this time to gaze out into the sea and do absolutely nothing and be absolutely uncontactable for 4 days this weekend.

Passover video

No one could explain what we have been through this week better than this

The rest of the musicians - Jaffa Gate

Looking at a shop selling biblical figurines

Dancing for Peace - Old City, Jerusalem

Starting our walk down the shuk

Ofer in front of Jaffa Gate - the concert just beginning

The Golden Path

There were two separate groups getting together yesterday for an interfaith peace walk into Jerusalem in honor of the last days of Passover. One was The Middle Way - who do silent Buddhist-influenced walks handing out cards as to what they're about, while walking without talking. They do compassionate listening in both Arab and Jewish cities. Of course it's compassionate listening, if they don't talk. They wear white sashes across their chests, and when they walk they do make quite an impact.

The other group - The Path Circle - is a group of noisy, bohemian musicians who sing and play musical instruments throughout their entire walk.

Eliyahu was telling me it's like the Litvish Jews and the Chassidic Jews - the Middle Way people being more serious and thinking the other group are clowns (the Litvish way), while the Path Circle are more like Chassidim - believing that dancing and being joyful will bring peace.

Hubby tells me if I want peace I should go back to America.

I waited an hour for both groups of "hippies for peace" by the Old City entrance at Jaffa Gate, to show up. I dressed the part so they won't miss me. I wore turquoise bell bottoms and a white Indian top. One person from the "noisy" group arrived. She looked at me and figured I was with one of the groups. Hippie Radar. Ofer Golany, the Peace Musician, took out his guitar and pretty soon an impromptu concert took place just inside Jaffa Gate while hundreds of people passed by - tourists (and there were loads of tourists!), Hassidim who couldn't figure out who and what we were - one couldn't handle the sight of us and put his hands over his eyes so he wouldn't have to see us while he walked passed our group. Someone played flute and one played darbuka and there were two guitars and a violin. And with the "noisy" group drawing attention - the silent group had to join the noisemakers in the end and we sauntered down the alleys of the Arab Shuk singing peace songs. The shopkeepers had different reactions. Some joined us and took out their darbukas and sang with us - others looked at us like "peace. yeah right." I think they would have rathered we bought a shit load of stuff in their shops than just singing in their alleys. But we gave out our flyers in Hebrew/Arabic and English/Arabic about what the groups were about. Many were impressed that someone even bothered to print the stuff out in Arabic.

The local Dylan wannabe was there too, talking to me about Jesus. Why talk to me about Jesus, man. Don't you think Dylan is the Messiah?

Ibrahim and the two Babas - Boombamela

Indian Baba - Boombamela

Dancing like dervishes around the bonfire

Bonfire at Boombamela

Green people at Boombamela

People at Boombamela

Monsters at Boombamela

Showin' off - Boombamela festival

Jews for Jesus at Boombamela

Breslov Hassidim at Boombamela

The Prayer Tent at Boombamela

Boombamela

I can't believe we did this a second time. It was so crazy last year, we didn't think we'd go back. But this year because Eliyahu was having an interfaith gathering, we got complimentary tickets for the 3 day festival on the beautiful sand-dunes of Nitzanim beach.

I feel I need to point out the "only in Israel" bits here. First of all, Eliyahu left the tickets in an envelope outside his door which is on street level in a busy area. No one took the envelope, even though he wrote "tickets" on the outside. Then, I left my digital camera at a stand inside the festival. After 1/2 an hour, when I realized it was not in my purse, I saw it there still. I had bought a wine glass before the holiday and left it in a shoe store. Yesterday it was still there and we took it home. So I thought this all very very cool.

We were walking along the route getting our bags checked at the entrance. I brought my Arabic lesson book with me and Hubby had matza (unleavened bread we eat during the holiday) wrapped up in tin foil, which was looking terribly suspicious and the took it out and unwrapped it thinking perhaps we'd brought 1000 grams of cocaine or ecstasy tablets to the festival. We actually did this festival straight.

The first tent we got to was the Shiva Ashram. It was elaborately done up with 2 Indians Babas sitting there silently and someone serving chai tea all day long. I laughed and told Hubby I don't really feel comfortable sitting in the shiva tent because shiva is a word we use when someone dies and you have to "sit shiva" for 7 days. There was a holistic area and we passed the Ayurvedic tent. Hubby, walking ahead of me, thought I said Iron Maiden was here.

After a few hours we met up with Eliyahu on the beach who had brought in 25 Arabs from the North on a bus. It was impossible to bring in West Bank Arabs even if they had permits because there was a total closure for the Jewish holiday. But this place was shocking even for the Israeli Arabs looking at all the string bikini chicks walking around - and opinions ranged from "how disgusting" to "isn't it great everyone's having fun". One young man couldn't contain his mixed emotions - was it disgusting to see all these "free" women running around, or was it just plain wonderful? He was sitting in the group watching everyone and screaming everything from "Allahu Akbar" to " Hey gingi(redhead) come over here and talk to me! Why are all the women here such snobs". And he kept on heckling a few others.

I spoke with a psychologist from Arab Kfar Qassem who seemed angry that the summer Sulha will be taking place with neighboring Jewish Rosh Haayin. "They take our lands and build their industrial section on our lands and we have to pay taxes to Rosh Haayin. I wouldn't mind if they build on our land and then the property taxes go to us, but it goes to them. How can you make a sulha with these people??" I listened to him rant for 20 minutes and told him not everyone knows this, and don't blame all the people of Rosh Haayin for it. They probably don't know. They certainly don't know each other too well. The Sulha will perhaps change that.

We made a big circle around the bonfire that was being lit at dusk and the organizers called up a few of the Arabs to speak. There were several hundred people around the circle who, a few minutes earlier, were doing some strange-looking energy-imbibing slow-hugging thing with their eyes closed, to Indian music. Two of the young Arab women joined in their circle and actually enjoyed that new-age experience. When the bonfire was lit, we all danced like dervishes and joining us were Indian Babas with lit coals on their head and Native Americans. The young Arab heckler even stopped heckling to take the microphone and sing Arabic songs while the Israelis drummed on darbukas and the rest of us danced around the fire.

We had dinner at the Prayer area, where the religious Jews hung out. Hubby had stayed there earlier that afternoon while I went to get a massage at the holistic tent and met a few people who lived in settlements around the Hebron area. Needless to say, we caused a few mouths to open as the Arab women, covered from head to toe, with their families arrived. "Are those Arabs?" asked one person incredulously as we took our place inside the tent for dinner. But as soon as we sat down, one of the Jewish women freaked and told security that she saw one of the Arab women put "something" under the mat. They checked the area and told the paranoid woman it's nothing. I didn't see any of this going on (Hubby did), but wished I had because I would have told that woman to sit down with us. Most people wandered over to our group very curious.

We took Ibrahim home around 10:00 pm but Hubby got sick and couldn't drive just as we were leaving the place. After about 1/2 an hour and a loud vomit, Hubby felt better, but Ibrahim called for someone to sit near him in case he got sick again. The Lakota Indian healer who lives in Jerusalem came to our rescue. He's actually half Indian, half Israeli. His name is Shuki and claims he's the only North American Indian that can speak Yiddish as well as Lakota.

"No you're not. Didn't you see Blazing Saddles" I asked? and we laughed at the parody of Indians speaking Yiddish.

Passover Festivities

We were all pretty lethargic and no one in our family ventured into the synagogue on the eve of the holiday. We spoke about it, but it never happened. I invited an assortment of people to join us in the lengthy meal we call a "seder", but everyone was busy. I ran out of Jews to invite and invited every Moslem friend that e-mailed me or left me text messages or who had called me to wish me a happy holiday, but they all had other plans too. I called up Mahmood who was working on a "big Hollywood film" being filmed on the Mt. of Olives, but he was actually going to an open Seder that was being run by this guy who ran Seders up in Daramsala, India, where the Dalai Lama lives. It'll probably be far more interesting than ours, but ours will have better food. I thought how odd it would be for any Arab sitting at my table, while we tell the story of the "evil Egyptians" and celebrate their demise and our Exodus from Egypt.

Then I thought of all the Israelis travelling to Sinai for the holiday thinking how inappropriate that is because you're supposed to be leaving Egypt, not running to it during Passover.

So in the end it was just us. I thought of being inventive like dressing up like a biblical character and playing out the Exodus. I told Hubby about it, and he said he'd like to dress up like Cecil B. DeMille. So much for my creativenss.

I tried to bring a big of originality to the Seder. I read from the book we all read during the Seder called the Haggadah. I bought one that a friend had written, called the Holistic Haggadah, which brings in stuff from other religions and tells you to "eat the matza in silence, remembering the times you felt restricted and felt like a slave." Hell I feel like that every time I have to wake up at 6:00 am to go to work. I read from the book, thinking my grown-up children would appreciate the stories and continued reading "Not yet, not yet......" And my kids roared with laughter mocking me in Russian, "Nyet, Nyet....Slava! Slava!"

My entire family was drunk with laughter and I was the only one drinking 4 cups of wine. Go figure.

And tomorrow I hope to go to a New Age Festival called Boombamela. Apparently 50 Palestinians from Gaza are invited for a dialogue. I've got to be there to participate. This is, of course, the holiday of freedom. And we've got to give them a taste of it too.

Passover Preps

With Passover just around the corner - here in a coupla hours - the past week has been real hectic. This is not like any holiday on the planet. For this holiday, you have to get rid of everything in your house that is made of "bread", including flour, wheat, barley, oats - stuff like that. And the customs of what to eat and what not to eat vary within the Jewish community. Depending on how observant/Orthodox/strict you are with this holiday, it may take weeks of preparation. When we were Orthodox Jews living in Canada, we began 4 weeks ahead, cleaning the upstairs bedrooms of any crumbs of anything - perhaps pretzels and peanut butter sandwiches - leafing through the pages of each book, going through pockets of clothing, windowsills, etc. Once that room was finished, a sign would go up on the door - Kosher for Passover, which meant you weren't allowed to eat in that room.

Nowadays, I don't go through that extent, but do change the kitchen around, which is probably the most tedious job of all. We have separate pots/pans, dishes, cups, small appliances just for this holiday alone, as you are not supposed to use the utensils you use during the year. Our boxes of Passover "stuff" are stored in our plastic garden shed.

This year I didn't take off work, as most do, one or two days before the holiday to get it all ready. Hubby said we'd hire a cleaner to clean the stove and fridge, which had to be emptied out and which hadn't been cleaned properly in 3 years. Neither did the house see a professional cleaner since we moved in 3 1/2 years ago.

The first frantic phone call was at 9:00 am from Hubby.

"The cleaner's not here. What shall I do? It's very unprofessional that he's late."

"OK - I'll call up the cleaning company.

I asked them what's going on with the cleaning person.

"He's on his way" they told me.

"Did you confirm with him last night?"

"Of course we did"

"Because nobody called me to confirm"

"Don't worry, he'll be there shortly."

Hubby called me very distressed at 9:30 because no-one was there and we had to empty out cupboards where we would replace dishes, pots and pans, etc where the Passover stuff would go into, plus the entire kitchen had to be scraped down and cleaned thoroughly. Who was going to do that by tonight? I gave him the number of the company for Hubby to hash out with. He took the day off work, so he's got more time to argue.

He called me back 5 minutes later.

"The cleaner can't come because his dad had a heart attack."

I didn't know whether that was a real excuse or a lame excuse but that's no reason for us to get a heart attack.

I called my Gypsy friend for help. Her sister was unemployed, just sitting around the house and we were going to pay her well. I was at their home which is spotless and figured I'd help out a friend's family. Hubby had to drive 1/2 hour to pick her up from the Old City.

I'm sitting at work with the Professor and my kids are calling me every two seconds since they've been off from school since the beginning of the week for step-by-step advice.

"Dad wants to throw the eggs out. Should we keep them? What can we throw out in the fridge?"

"They're ORGANIC EGGS!" I screamed into the phone. "Do not let him throw them out."

He can toss out most of the crap we have in the fridge, I'll be especially glad to see the moldy tomato paste go and whatever it is in there that smells of fish. It's pretty gross to stick your head in there for longer than 10 seconds.

I smiled at the Professor and said - "It's just pre-holiday chaos at my home."

"Can you come into the board room now?" he asked me, not giving two fucks what was going on in my home at the moment.

I'm sitting in the board room, hearing my cell phone ring every five minutes. It's scary. I finally am able to get to it when the Professor takes a break and it's the social worker from the Reformatory where ex-Criminal daughter is at.

"She was supposed to go home tonight with one of the staff workers who lives in your area, but we have a rule that she cannot be alone in the car with a staff member without an escort. She'll have to go tomorrow morning. She'll be very disappointed since she planned on coming home tonight for weeks now. Can you come and pick her up?"

What's a round trip three hour drive on the busiest day of the year?? I told her I'd have to get back to her before she hits my daughter with the bad news.
I dreaded calling Hubby who was supervising the kids, the Gypsy cleaner and Abed who was helping with the heavy stuff.

"I'm having a bit of car trouble, but I could be there this evening. We owe it to her."

"Are you SURE??" I didn't want to encourage him, because if something happened along the way, I'd be accused of making him do all this shit.

The Professor paid for a taxi back home for me, and I was thrilled to be cabbing it back in luxury instead of taking two buses. Ah, the perks of work. Princesses don't take buses and he's been calling me "Princess" lately. It pays to be royalty.

I got back home to hug and kiss Hudra the Gypsy sister of my friend and Abed had worked on the fridge, dousing it with a hose and oven cleaner so that the varnish on the front came off in streaks. I didn't care about how it looked on the outside, because I had never seen it so clean since I bought it 8 years ago. Trouble is when we went to plug it back in, it caused a electrical shortage.

"Leave it for a few hours until it dries and then it will be ok"

"Are you sure???" I glared at him because no one fucks with my fridge and if he ruined my fridge I would kick his ass all the way to Mecca.

Meantime,I had given them both all the stuff in my fridge that didn't have mold on it and they were very grateful.

Meanwhile, Hubby had gone to pick up my daughter, and he was 15 minutes away from her place.

"MY car's overheating and the temperature is way up. I can't drive it anymore. It's stalling and I'll have to have it towed to Jerusalem."

That will cost a small fortune, I thought. He was distraught but I knew he was at a busy intersection. I told him to take a taxi to where Daughter was and bring her back to the car and wait for the tow truck. He thought I was a genius for the idea, because he couldn't think straight at this point.

He was back by 10:00 pm, with daughter, with car (which was running fine but had lacked water in one of the tubes or whatever near the engine) and my fridge was finally working.

I felt like we had relived the Passover story in just 12 hours. From slavery to freedom. Happy Passover.

Israel's gonna rock and roll

I was sitting calmly in front of the TV with Hubby and my son, watching to see who the new Pope would be. It was terribly exciting for us, even though I figured it would be Ratzinger. And I was happy for my Catholic friends that they have a new (and rather elderly) leader.

Then I get to look at my e-mail figuring nothing's really happening besides the Pope stuff, and read that the Rolling Stones will be coming to tour in Israel in 2006. Being that terrorist attacks are down, insurance costs for bands dropped as well. So not only are they coming but the Scorpions (Hubby likes them) will be playing in July and Phil Collins in November. This will be a bonus year for us. We've always felt isolated as far as Western music goes. No one ever came to visit, except for the activists or spiritually minded, like Madonna.

But the news has caused quite a stir in the Rolling Stones' fan world and I'm already getting e-mails of upcoming huge gatherings (at my house of course), with one person already reserving a space. This is so truly wild.

Readin' 'n' Writin' in Arabic

Hubby was up at his usual 5:00 am - despite the fact that it was Saturday and he didn't have to work. I woke up hours later and let off a very loud fart, which sent him flying into the room

"What did you want?" He apparently thought I was calling him.

Men. Shows you what they understand and how they understand.

I am watching tv with Arabic and Hebrew subtitles. I can understand some of the Arabic words now. I CAN ALMOST READ!! I CAN ALMOST READ!! What a whole new wonderful world it opens up for me.

Plus I can show off now.

Especially when my eldest daughter called me a shitball this afternoon. And I wrote it for her in Arabic. Here, look at this - I showed her proudly.

"This is how you write "shitball" in Arabic."

She dare not swear to me now in a string full of curses. I'll end up making her sit down and watch me write them out in Arabic.

Nebi Musa

I successfully convinced Hubby to chauffer me down to Nebi Musa, the magical looking place where Moslems believe Moses is buried. There was going to be a Peace Caravan there or near there and Abdullah, a new friend, was one of the organizers. He met me a few months ago at the place where I study Arabic and called me about 100 times until he was able to get me at the right time and place so he could visit with me. He wanted to open up a kind of joint Jewish/Arab coffee pit stop where one could meet the other and I gave him some numbers of people who had the same idea. Unfortunately, I don't have the time or the money to help him further with his dreams.

I remember one time when he went on the bus with me - the bus to the "settlement" where I live outside Jerusalem. We instinctively didn't speak to each other. His accent is so heavy that he would have freaked out some of the people on the bus. He didn't have to tell me not to talk to him, I just knew he'd be uncomfortable. As soon as he got off the bus, he was talking a mile a minute (and freaked out a few of the people on the street).

He called me yesterday and I couldn't hear him on the phone. He wanted our friend Eliyahu's number. I wanted to impress him with my Arabic so I shouted out the number to him in Arabic as I was passing a checkpoint - and I was thinking - what if the soldiers hear me speaking Arabic. What would they do. I don't think they heard me. Like the time, I myself freaked out, perhaps for no reason - when one of Hubby's workers left an Arabic language newspaper in the back seat of our car and when our car was about to be inspected at the entrance to our Mall, I quickly folded up the paper on my lap.

Ah, but getting back to today, we took our Son along. Hubby explained to Son that Mommy was going to Nebi Musa so she could hug all the Arabs there.

You could hug them too - I explained.

We ended up at the site of Nebi Musa but the crowd I was looking for was not to be seen anywhere. The place was crowded with Moslem pilgrims and there were food stands, and other assorted trinket stands all around. I got out of the car and walked around looking for the Peace Caravan. I was the only Jewish person around among the several hundred there. I asked some people in Hebrew if they knew of any "celebration" going on - other than the one going on at Nebi Musa itself. A crowd of young Palestinian men gathered around me, amused and curious as to why this Hebrew speaking person was there. I explained to them who I was looking for and one person seemed to know and walked with me to show me a bedouin tent a few hills beyond.

"What's going on there" he wanted to know.

" A gathering of Israelis and Arabs - eating together, playing music together, and celebrating together for absolutely no reason at all - other than wanted to hang together."

We went off to the Peace Caravan tent and Hubby was like "there could have been terrorists around there!"

OK Mr. Always-on-the-lookout-for-Osama-bin-laden-types. Even if there were Jew-hating terrorists, if you go there and approach people with love, it will come back to you. Nothing else. No matter what they felt beforehand. And besides Eliyahu (the Orthodox Jewish friend of ours) met with Hamas types a couple of years ago, and they admired his beard!!!! Because he came to them with love in his heart. They admired his fucking beard!!

He seemed to understand.

We found our crew there. Everyone seemed to be lounging around the tent and the planned program for that afternoon seemed to not be happening. Son was getting impatient but managed to kick a soccer ball around with a few of the young men. Eliyahu and I spoke about an upcoming Interfaith gathering at Boombamela - a festival during the holiday of Passover that attracts thousands and thousands of young Israelis. He was in the midst of getting permits for Palestinians from Gaza plus he had festival tickets for them. The tickets are expensive and if he has extra, I'll go with Hubby, but if not, it'll have to pass. But at least it'll be happening - whether with me or without me. I laughed just thinking at the culture difference and that the Gaza kids will probably totally freak out. The festival has a neo-Woodstock feel to it with some women walking around - in the altogether from the waist up and usually painted purple or blue. I don't think these guys from Gaza ever saw blue boobs before, but there'll always be a first time. Funny how I feel kind of embarrassed about this somewhat - like perhaps they shouldn't be seeing this, they'll probably think we're people with terribly low morals if any at all. This isn't really how I like the Jewish people to be portrayed, especially when I know people will be meeting Jews for the very first time. I just hope they won't find out about the section at the festival for nudists. I, for one, won't be telling them...

Made in Israel

I'm sitting in the conference room, reading to the Professor his bio for the 50th time and stumbled over the words "he taught at the seminary" calling it "cemetery". I tried hard to stifle my laugh. How morbid could one get?

See - I was terribly annoyed at Hubby for pulling out the flowers from the garden. He didn't wreck all of them, just the cute violets by the rocks, because he thought they were weeds. And I was stressed because the counselor at ex-Criminal's reformatory called to tell me she needed us to bring her when we visit her an assortment of things like: batteries, conditioner, shampoo, a family photo, and Parliament cigarettes.

"I thought you guys supply everything for them." I said.

"Oh, we only supply things that are Israeli-made, and they're paid for by the State of Israel."

Finally, something the State of Israel is paying for, instead of taking from us, I thought. I guess they don't serve the Palestinian-brewed Taibeh beer. Hubby's been buying Palestinian cigarettes from his friend Abed because they're 1/2 the price of those sold in Israel. But Parliament ciggies will have to be bought for my daughter by us. It's not Israeli-made and the State of Israel will not give them to her. They will only poison her with Israeli-made Time cigarettes.

My Nasty Daughter, who came along for the ride to the reformatory this morning with us for visiting day, claimed that smoking cured her cough. She tried the over-the-counter cough medicines, as well as perscriptions and the only thing that cured her were cigarettes. Go figure.

Our host - waiting to wash our hands with clay pitcher

Genesis Land

Jeep tour - overlooking Dead Sea

Bulrushes at Ein Fashcha nature reserve

Qumran cave - where Dead Sea scrolls were found

Work trip

Our work took us on an outing today. This is a very Israeli thing to do. My daughter went with her work for a few days to Eilat. Our company usually takes one full day and goes wherever.

Today, our focus was on the Dead Sea area. We ate breakfast at Kibbutz Almog by the Dead Sea, hiked in Ein Fashche reserve and went on a 2 hour jeep ride through the Judean Desert.

We went to Genesis Land for dinner. This was an interesting place, where people dressed up as biblical characters, and the food and serving platters seemed to be "of that time."

Photos following.

Too much info

I was reading about the new train line in Jerusalem - that is supposed to get to Tel Aviv in 72 minutes instead of two hours. Cars can get to Tel Aviv in 45 minutes to an hour, so the train will be another novelty. It's not in the most convenient place - near the biggest mall, but it's not centrally located. So they were talking about the old train station in Jerusalem built in 1892 - "overgrown with weeds, where drug dealers and prostitutes hang out." That's more than enough info. Thank you. Now whoever didn't know where to get drugs and sex, now knows where to find them.

Then I went on to read Passover menus from caterers. "Health salad with red cabbage, carrots, raisins, almonds and oranges."

Yum. Looks like I don't have to buy from you guys. I'll just put together the ingredients myself. Thank you.

A Friend's Child's Death

I had made tentative plans to go to Sinai in May with a girlfriend. Sinai is affordable, far from the maddening crowds and a place where you can clear your head for a few days just sitting on the beach and watching dolphins play all day. If I felt brave, I'd snorkle and see the beautiful coral reefs, which are more plentiful there than they are in Eilat. My friend could only make this trip on certain weekends when her ex-husband could take care of their severely handicapped son, who wasn't able to walk or talk or feed himself.

Yesterday a mutual friend tried frantically to call me, while I was in a 4 hour meeting at work, that the son - her only child who was not yet 14, had just passed away. Within a matter of hours after his death he was buried so I missed his funeral.

But I did manage to make it over to the house where the family is "sitting shiva" (the period of mourning for 7 days) waiting for her to return from the funeral.

The minute she walked in we cried on each other's shoulders, and settled her onto a low couch mattress on the floor, propping her back with pillows. Food miraculously appeared out of nowhere with people working in the kitchen, chopping up all sorts of things. Every time I turned my head, something else was put on the table. I looked at her and said "Looks like you'll have to do without your diet this week" and grabbed for her some bagels, guacomole and lox. Needless to say, I stuffed my face as well.


She told me - "They didn't even let me see him after he died. They wrapped him up in sheets and carted him off to the funeral home. There I went over to kiss him and they (the Rabbis) yelled at me not to touch him.

But she kissed him anyways.

I was like - the pope died ages ago and he's still hanging around.

Jews bury their dead quickly, but Jerusalem's custom is to not wait at all for burial, which can be quite traumatic, but perhaps the best thing. Who knows really what is the best thing for a mourning mother.

He had the privilege of being buried at Jerusalem's holiest and ancient cemetery – the Mt. of Olives – where many important and righteous people were laid to rest. There are many stories about the Mt. of Olives, one of which is that the Resurrection of the Dead will begin there. There are no longer any on the Mt. of Olives, but there are several plots reserved for "special" children so it was of some consolation that he was buried there.

I listened to her tell me she didn't think he was dead when the ambulance came, and pleaded with the medics to hook him up to some kind of machine – any machine – that would get his heart going again. But the medics worked on him for an hour right on the sidewalk and they could not revive him. He was still warm, she told me, as she held one his shirts to her face and I cried sporadically with her.

And then we reminisced.

"Remember when we had dinner in your garden 2 summers ago and Hubby started to talk about sex. All of a sudden, your son lifted up his head and looked very alert. At that point, I realized he understood everything that was being said. And we laughed so hard about it. That's when I fell in love with him."

I had the privilege of taking him to his first movie to see Farenheit 911 last summer. We were nervous he'd start making noise and be disruptive and we cautiously took him into the movie theatre with our popcorn and coffee and his wheelchair. He sat up in his chair, which he didn't do often, really seeming to enjoy the movie. We did it again a few weeks later taking him, together with my son, to an outdoor screening of the 1968 Beatles film Yellow Submarine and we sang to him throughout the film. People looked back at us, smiled and felt his enjoyment.

She took him everywhere she could, in fact, not caring that people stared at him, or shook their heads, or didn't know how to act around such a child. But he was indeed special – so special that several relatives who were close to him chose to enter the field of special ed to help others like him.

Rest in peace, pure soul.

Jerusalem Dentists

It was certainly bad enough having a one and a half hour appointment for the second part of a root canal yesterday evening. It was even worse going with two of my kids - Nasty and Young Son.

Nasty tells me on the way there - I read in the newspaper that they found that dentists here...

She paused - and I was hoping she wouldn't say "kill people".

She continued - "...say you have a cavity when you really don't just so they can make extra money."

I was wondering if my dentist would do that - in order to boost his profits. One never knows.

Enter Nasty for her check up. She's 17 and needs braces. She didn't want to "ruin" her looks at 15 but her teeth have gotten worse and she ~really~ needs them now. The dentist, assistant and I looked at her pulling out her tongue ring. It grossed us all out. He looked at me and asked if her boyfriend has as many holes in his face as she does.

He told her point blank - "you have to have better hygiene"

"What's that?" She asked. Seriously.

No one could have been more embarrassed than me, the bad mother, while the dentist and his assistant looked at me with that "How COULD you" look. He then thought for a bit, before chewing me out and asked her the same question in Hebrew.

"Oh" she replied

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Does she have any cavities?"

"No, her teeth are fine, she just needs to see the Orthodontist"

I shot my suspicious daughter a triumphant glance. At least THIS dentist was honest and wasn't going to treat her for imaginary cavities.

And after my Son, it was my turn. How lucky can I get. I looked at the clock while it ticked away ever so slowly. The slowest 1 1/2 hours of my life. I thought of other places I'd rather be at the moment - like sipping coffee at the hotel where Richard Gere was staying, hell - even home with Hubby is more preferable than this.

And then I saw a million little syringes on the table. He puts them into my teeth and asks his assistant - after he uses them on me -

"Do you know what are in these syringes?"

"No" says the assistant.

I manage a groan, thinking for sure they might kill me with an unknown substance in the syringe.

"Alcohol or Peroxide?" asked the dentist.

"I don't know"

That's just great. But it didn't really matter anyways. I managed to survive the treatment. I just thought perhaps in the future it would be better to go to a dentist whose language I didn't understand.

Gere's Here

The Incredible Hunk is in the Holy Land for the 4th time around. I knew his visit was going to be the beginning of the month as the newspapers prompted that info. Plus my friend Ibrahim chauffered him around last time he was here. On TV the reporters tried to get him to dance with Shimon Peres because it seems Gere enjoys dancing cheek to cheek with Prime Ministers - so perhaps he'd do it with former Prime Ministers. I got an adrenaline rush watching the news on him and got some raging hormones back, which had become quite lax in the past year or so.

At work the girls were plotting for me.

"You HAVE to find out where he is! Call Ibrahim! You must find him. I'll go with you and we'll meet him together."

The new receptionist looked at us as though she'd report us to the nearest the mental hospital.

"Don't worry" I assured her. "He's married."

"SO?" she replied.

Ahh. My sentiments exactly.

Perhaps one evening this week I'll end up sitting in the lobby, sipping outrageously expensive cofee at one of the more posher hotels in Jerusalem - just to catch a glimpse. An autograph hound I'm not, nor would I pop flashbulbs either. I'd probably be too shy to approach him with my business card, telling him about my interfaith work. It would probably be enough to watch him walk into the place, into the elevator and let my daydreams go beyond my imagination....

Nasty search engines

I was perusing who was perusing my site when I checked out that a person doing a search on "Popes condolence message Children" found my web site through Yahoo. I was absolutely horrified to read the following:

1. jerusalem wanderings

... message of condolence to all our Catholic friends for the Pope who did alot of interfaith work and probably was the most progressive of all popes ... does, he bites children ...
RSS: View as XML - Add to My Yahoo!
jerusalemgypsy.blogspot.com - More from this site

So someone would have to actually go INTO the daily blog to find out that it is not me who is accusing the Pope of biting children - indeed it seems that way looking at what shows up. But, rather, my son talking about our dog to prospective adoptive parents.

Alternative education

Little David, who was Jewish, was failing math.
His parents tried everything, tutors, mentors, special learning
centres, and nothing helped. As a last resort, someone told them to try a
Catholic school. "Those nuns are tough," they said.

David was soon enrolled at St. Mary's. After
school, on the very first day, he ran through the door and straight to
his room, without even kissing his mum hello. He started studying
furiously, books and papers spread all over his room. Right after dinner,
he ran upstairs without mentioning TV and hit the books even harder.
His parents were amazed.

This behaviour continued for weeks until report
card day arrived. David quietly laid the envelope on the table and
went to his room. With great trepidation, his mother opened the report.
David had gotten an A. She ran up to his room, threw her arms around him
and asked, "David, honey, how did this happen? Was it the nuns?
"No," said David. "On the first day of school when I saw that guy
nailed to the plus sign, I knew they weren't fooling around."

Honor Due the Pope

I did not give enough honour to the Pope yesterday in my post. My friend Ibrahim sent out a notice to his friends and he said it better than I could have.

Dear Friends,

We are joining the people all around the world in morning the passing away of Pope John Paul II.

I remember his visit to the Holy Land in year 2000, he came to the Mount of Olives and inaugurated "The Pope's Garden" overlooking the Dome of the Rock where our children now play.

I also remember his talks and his efforts for reconciliation between religions.

We, the people of the Land of the Prophets, Muslims, Christians and Jewish, all bow our head in respect for this great man.

May God have Mercy and Blessing upon His Soul.


God Bless You,

Ibrahim,

Mount of Olives

For other news articles from Jerusalem click here and here

Do I not exist???

Our interfaith group sent out a message of condolence to all our Catholic friends for the Pope who did alot of interfaith work and probably was the most progressive of all popes. The Israeli papers were full of nice articles about him.

Getting back to my gripes for the day - it seems to me that my inner voice does not cry loud enough. So people don't hear me, they don't get me, they do shitty things to me, thinking they are being so good hearted and generous.

Take Hubby, first of all, (please!) - who gave away my NIKON (!) 35 mm camera to his brother because, well, he wanted to. I saw this driver of a gold Jaguar putting into his luggage when he was here for a visit, my very own camera. Knowing the brother is not a thief, I asked Hubby - what's going on.

"Well you don't use it anymore. And besides you have the digital."

"Don't my opinions count. Couldn't you have ASKED me first." True, I hadn't been using the camera because the costs of developing the film was prohibitive. But I was hoping once my kids are out of the house, and my salary can go more for self-indulgence, I would buy myself a decent flash and zoom lens and use it more often. Cameras like this can last decades. Not wishing to seem selfish I let him get away with it - just this time - and threatened d-i-v-o-r-c-e the next time he does it.

Forgetting about the divorce threat, obviously, or perhaps wishing it, Hubby offered a toy we bought for our eldest child 10 years ago. My First Computer. He offered it to our guests for their 8 month old baby.

I heard him tell the guests.

"You can have that toy computer we bought ages ago in Canada. No one uses it."

I will have none of that. I fucking fed those guests. Shouldn't that be enough? Why not give them the microwave which we hadn't used in 48 hours or how about the good quality facial products my daughters bought for you, mister, since you NEVER use them.

I immediately nipped his generosity in the bud. "Sorry" I told the guests. "But this toy is not for an 8 month old." And gave a glare to Hubby.

"Anyways our son can use it." And the son, did use it, asking me geography and science questions all afternoon, so I had actually wondered had it not been better to have given it to our guests after all.

With the weekend over and back to work, I was with my boss's secretary at our second place of work - where I do not have an office - taking meeting minutes and she nonchalantly asked him "Do you want her (meaning me) sticking around until you get back from lunch?"

Yes of course he does.

How long might that be, I asked her.

"Oh, an hour and a half"

"An hour and a half!!! I have things to do back in the office. I have nothing to do while he's stuffing his face. Never volunteer my services to him. Jeesus!"

She was so startled that she promised to bake me 2 dozen chocolate chip cookies to calm me down.

And that, well, sort of did it.

The Rabbi and the IRS

The Internal Revenue Service sends an auditor to a synagogue. The auditor is doing all the checks and then turns to the Rabbi and says,

"I noticed that you buy a lot of candles."

"Yes," answered the Rabbi.

"Well , Rabbi, what do you do with the candle drippings?" he asked.

"A good question," noted the Rabbi. "We actually save them up and when we have enough, we send them back to the candle maker and every now and then, they send us a free box of candles."

"Oh," replied the auditor somewhat disappointed that his unusual question actually had a practical answer.

"Rabbi, what about all these matzo purchases? What do you do with the crumbs from the matzo?"

"Ah yes," replied the Rabbi calmly, "we actually collect up all the crumbs from the matzo and when we have enough, we send them in a box back to the manufacturer and every now and then, they send a box of matzo balls."

"Oh," replied the auditor, thinking hard how to fluster the Rabbi. "Well Rabbi," he went on, "what do you do with all the foreskins from the cirucumcisions?"

"Yes, here too, we do not waste," answered the Rabbi. "What we do is save up all the foreskins, and when we have enough, we actually send them to the Internal Revenue Service"

"Internal Revenue?!" questioned the auditor in disbelief.

"Ah, yes," replied the Rabbi, "Internal Revenue...and about once a year, they send us a little prick like you."

Freaky Friday

Another wacky day. I wanted to register my kid in a religious junior high school, after that last episode of registering him in a local school where they made him feel like half a criminal because he's not a perfectly-behaved clone child. He's a great kid -really. And I need a school to recognize that greatness.

I lost one hour of sleep due to Daylight Savings beginning today. And it was no April Fools joke. I hopped into a cab. I told the cab driver where I was going - to this religious boys' school in an Orthodox Jewish area.

"Had I known you were going there, I wouldn't have taken you!" was his remark. Being in a rush, I had no intention of jumping out of his cab to wait for another one. What a dick. And he continued.

"I remember driving you on the Sabbath."

He was obviously confused.

I told him that, yes, we are not an Orthodox Jewish family, however, it is my 13 year old son's wish that he go to one of these schools and I fully respect his decision.

My cab driver didn't.

"I just got a call from a woman in Vered Yericho (a settlement near Jericho). She told me she wants a cab at 1:00 pm on Saturday but wants a non-Jewish cab driver. She would only take me if I'm a Moslem. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT??? So I told her - yes, I am a Moslem. That's what these rabbis told her. It's ok for her to drive on a Sabbath? But not ok for me to drive her because I'm not a Moslem?" And he droned on and on until I nearly fell asleep in his cab. Fortunately the ride was only 10 minutes.

Later that afternoon Hubby showed our half-bassett hound dog to a prospective adoptive family. It was getting impossible for either of us to fully take care of him. I'm too tired to walk him at night, so it's usually Hubby walking him twice a day and he's resentful. So we decided anyone looking for a dog who looks half -normal, can adopt him. But my son decided to sabotage the entire deal.

Hubby to prospective adoptive family "This dog is gentle, smart, doesn't bark and doesn't bite."

Son: Yes he does, he bites children. He jumps up on the counter and chases cats. He jumps out of the car window and when you take him for walks and let him off the chain, he doesn't come back.

Hubby called me up afterwards, while I was having coffee in downtown Jerusalem frantic.

"That's it. I'm taking away his keyboard. Everything I told these people, he told them the opposite."

I was with a friend, with a Buddhist calmness about him. That calmness was contagious.

"You just have to understand where this is coming from" I told him with great owl-like wisdom. He obviously doesn't want you to give away the dog.

Funnily enough, when this couple and Hubby took the dog for a walk - the dog, as if knowing what was going on, took a whiff of fresh dog crap on the grass, ate half of it and then rolled back and forth on it, smooshing the crap on himself. What a pooch.

Weird Shit

I knew this week was getting weird when I found a pair of my underwear on the floor near our private entrance in the parking lot for our apartment building. Now how the heck did that get there. I think about it for a few minutes each day. Did the damn dog have it in its mouth on the way to the "toilet" outside at 5 am in the morning. Did Hubby feel a moment of passion while toying with the undies while having a smoke by his automobile? Geez. Life is such a mystery.

Then there was the unidentified hairy object I found sleeping next to my eldest daughter a couple of mornings ago when I opened up her unlocked door. I must have stared too hard. He sure was cute. I didn't believe her one bit when I called her up at work and asked who he was.

"He's gay" she told me. Sure, sweetie. Mama knows best. She has gay radar. The guy is definitely straight.

"We're just friends" was her other excuse and continued giving me about 25 stupid excuses. More on mystery #2 next week, perhaps.

I went to my friend's son's wedding last night in some remote place 1 1/2 hours north of Jerusalem. Hubby bugged off on me and thankfully, knowing how stable life is with the Caveman, I was wise enough to make a backup plan. I hitched a ride with one another Jerusalemite going to the wedding. I had to take a cab from work though because of time constraints. The cab driver was concerned. Of course, they have to know where I'm going and why. Always.

"You aren't dressed to go to a wedding" he observed.

"I have my clothing in a bag here and I'll get dressed at that person's house before we leave. It'll only take me 5 minutes."

"5 MINUTES!! FOR A WEDDING?? How will you have time to put on your makeup?"

I thought of asking him - Why do you doubt my word, mister man. Have you been dating my eldest daughter, you freak. (She's the one that takes 2 hours to step outside the house, even if she's just going to the grocers).

I was very grateful, while stepping out of the cab, that we do not tip taxi drivers in Israel.

Pinocchio in drag

Kids are Scary

Jerusalem - Purim 2005

Visiting the captive

Today was visiting day for my daughter in captivity. Hubby had never been there and I, who has a very bad sense of direction, managed to remember the various highways and turnoffs in order to get there.

She was happy to see us and we stayed for 2 hours. It was sunny and warm on the grassy lawn. The 11 girls who are in the "secured" part of the place are contained in a small area, their rooms, their lounge, their diningroom and their lawn area, which has several picnic tables, two couch swings and a table for the girls to do their lessons outdoors. My daughter told us about the place - the big breakfasts with cheeses and salads, a meat lunch, and a light dinner. They had a party last Wednesday until 10 PM and a DJ was brought in. Sheesh. Sounds more like a teen's paradise to me than a court-ordered-reformatory.

There was one loud horrible newer girl there, yelling and screaming at everyone within earshot. Who is she? I had to know. Turns out that girl's 2 months pregnant and I wondered if she was going to keep the baby, if her relatives will keep the baby, or will she have to give the baby up for adoption. She acted totally dysfunctional. I also wanted to know if my daughter had enough aspirin for the headaches she's gonna get living together with this chick for the next 3 months. It looked like a reality tv set. 11 girls living together in a small area and they can not leave until they're there 5 weeks. There were 2 Palestinian girls there as well. They looked as sweet as pie. But so did my daughter who wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup. They don't leave mirrors in the rooms, to be on the safe side so the girls don't break them and try to hurt themselves or others with it. So there's just one communal mirror for them all. So that explained the lack of girls wearing makeup in that place.

She asked me to bring her a discman. We don't have one, but her little brother, ridden with guilt for his constant fighting with her over the computer, suggested he'd chip in for one for her. I wonder how much these girls can get out of their parents who are feeling bad for them being in lock up - even with good food and DJs.

She asked me to let her use my cellphone to call her boyfriend. "You know you're not allowed to! I don't want you to get in trouble and you have to listen to RULES!"

"Mom! Every mother when they visit lets their kids use the cellphone to call their friends. My friend even spoke to 5 of her friends. I haven't heard from him in so long and I miss him so much."

A week in this paradise slammer did seem like a year, even for me. I thought of Romeo and Juliet. Juliet was also 15, as my daughter, and Romeo was 17. I thought about their tragic ending. My daughter has this real Juliet-like passion for this guy who is a year older than her. I reluctantly dialed the cellphone hiding inside my purse. Then I put her head on my lap and let her talk to him for 2 minutes, just to tell him that she loves him and will see him when she gets out in 4 weeks. When she got off the phone she kissed me and told me that she loves me. I guess some rules just have to be broken.