Saturday, June 19, 2010

More Citizen Activism (or, The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Shekel)

If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s paying for something and then not getting what I paid for.

About a week and a half ago, I was heading to work from downtown when I needed to use the bathroom. Just across the street, I saw one of the coin-operated bathrooms that the Jerusalem municipality installed recently, and decided to use it.

Automatic toilet

The “Vacant” light was on...

The "vacant" light is on

... so I paid my shekel and pulled the door, which wouldn’t open. I pushed the refund button, but my shekel didn’t come back.

By now I was pretty annoyed. I called the municipality’s hotline and complained, and eventually, after quite a runaround, I managed to speak with the head of the sanitation department. Unlike the others I had spoken to, he was understanding and accommodating—even when I asked for my shekel back on the grounds that the municipality gets enough of my money in taxes every year.

And so, several days later, we met near the parking lot of my workplace, and he handed me two shekels: one to make up for the one that I had lost, and a second one for the woman who had tried to use the automatic bathroom as I was speaking to the municipality people, and had inserted her shekel before I could reach her.

One shekel

Since I don’t know who the woman is, I donated that shekel to charity. I put the other one toward a small bag of chocolates that I shared at the office.

Citizen activism: it pays!

Some Pics from the Weekend

Last Thursday night, my group, Et Al, had a gig up north in Kiryat Tivon, a gorgeous suburb of Haifa.

The gig went fantastically—I think it was our best one yet. I spent the night at my friend Joanna’s, and early Friday afternoon, we headed to Mifgash ha-Steak, an excellent, reasonably-priced kosher grill restaurant in Herzliya’s hi-tech zone, for lunch.

We ordered Middle Eastern salads for appetizers. I’m sorry I forgot to take pictures of them when they arrived. They were varied, colorful and delicious. I didn’t count how many of them there were, but there were a lot. We had great fun sampling each one.

And then came the meal we had ordered: the mixed grill for two.

Meat meal

It was heavenly. We couldn’t finish it. The only suggestion that I would make to the management would be to include two lamb chops instead of one, since it’s not easy to split one lamb chop between two people. I can᾿t imagine that it would increase the cost by all that much, and I’d be willing to pay it.

Then came dessert. I usually don’t order dessert when I eat out, but this time I did. I asked for one scoop of raspberry sorbet and ordered Turkish coffee, which is said to aid digestion. By the end of this meal, I needed all the help I could get!

End of the meal

Then, we drove to the nearby marina to get a look at the sea and the boats. This boat appears to be a navy vessel:

Military boat

Then we saw something a bit more connected to land: a magnificent, gleaming Harley-Davidson motorcycle:

A Harley at the marina

At home, I was greeted by a praying mantis resting on a newspaper that was sticking out of a mail slot:

Praying mantis

Then it was back home for Shabbat and rest. In all, an excellent weekend.

Just Nine Tenths? I Think Not

It would seem that recently, Hadi has learned one important word:

Hadi and her toys 4

“Mine.”

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Around and About

A metal gate at the Mahane Yehuda open-air market:

Metal gate

Open drainage holes in a Haredi neighborhood. According to one resident, the local residents opened them in order to prevent children from using the area as a soccer pitch.

Open drainage holes

The light rail tracks from one angle...

Light rail tracks

... and from another.

Still under construction

World news: in Hungarian, English, French, Romanian and Amharic.

World news

Construction across the street from Jerusalem’s central bus station. I believe that it is for the new train station at the International Convention Center, for the fast train to Tel Aviv that we’re supposed to get one of these years.

Construction

Temporarily Detained

So... I’m leaving for work, and...

Temporarily detained

“Umm... Your Ladyship, I have to get to work.”

“I know.”

“Sweetie, I can’t go to work with your head on my foot.”

“I know.”

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Silly

(With apologies to Burt Bacharach, Hal David and Dionne Warwick)

What do you get when you kiss a cat?
You get enough fur to sew a blanket,
And for a week, you’ll sit and yank it—
I’ll... never kiss a cat again....
(Don’t believe me!)
I’ll... never kiss a cat again!

“That’s silly, Rahel.”

Looking up

You’re right, Your Ladyship. It’s very silly.

“But it’s cute.”

Thank you, Hadi. Gimme five!

“Sure, as long as you give me a bellyrub.”

Gimme five!

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Learning to Trust Again

I think that Hadi is gradually forgetting her traumatic visit to the vet. This morning, she appeared much calmer, and she let me pet her and offer her bellyrubs.

In fact, we went from this...

Under Hadi's watchful eye 1

... to this...

Paw on hand

... to this.

Blissed out

Hadi appears to be feeling much better... and she also appears to be learning to trust again.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

No Vow of Poverty

Like most people I know, I’m a member of several professional email lists. An ad appeared on one of them recently from a local outsourcing company seeking workers.

Soon afterwards, one of the list members posted a link to the company's brochure, suggesting that we read a certain excerpt. She ended her post by wishing us appropriate, gainful employment. Although she did not tell us what she had discovered or include an explicit warning, her tone was clear enough.

When I clicked on the link, I found the following:

In the current economic climate especially, clients would gladly outsource these services if they could save money without sacrificing quality. The challenge? Finding qualified Americans (and other Anglos) who will work for wages considerably less than the US standard.

The solution? Israel! There is a wealth of American/Anglo émigrés to Israel. Most are highly credentialed, highly motivated professionals with limited job options. Salaries in Israel are generally lower than in the US, demand for jobs is high, and this group, who accepted material sacrifice when they moved to Israel, and with limited knowledge of the local language, are happy to accept work at much lower than US rates. It’s a win-win – a difficult to employ group gets challenging work in a congenial work environment while earning a living wage and [redacted] gains the ability to offer higher end services to its clientele....

My first thought was: what hutzpah! This company posted an ad looking for workers, and at the same time describes in their brochure how they intend to take advantage of them! Still, I can say one thing in the company’s favor: at least they’re honest about it.

I was also offended at the thought that the founder of this company, himself an English-speaker living in Israel, is so willing to cash in on his fellow immigrants’ economic plight. But then, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened in Jewish history. Jews were sweatshop owners, too, back in the day. (And worse than that—but that’s a post for another time.)

I also felt personally insulted—as though this particular employer were portraying English-speaking immigrants to Israel as a bunch of miskenim (Hebrew: poor, pitiful creatures) at worst or, at best, starry-eyed idealists who took a vow of poverty on the tarmac at Ben-Gurion Airport. No, Mr. Company Owner, none of us “accepted material sacrifice” when we moved here. Yes, we put up with certain disadvantages in order to live in a Jewish country, but I do not know anyone who is resigned to them. Every single person I know who lives and works here is constantly trying to better his or her situation, as am I.

Not only that. Many of these “credentialed, highly motivated professionals” who are forced to accept “wages considerably less than the US standard” end up leaving Israel after a while. The long, relentless struggle to meet basic living costs and cut expenses can be extremely wearing and, in many cases, dangerous to health. Over the past several years, quite a few of my friends have left the country because even with all their training, ability and motivation, they couldn’t make a living here. They would have preferred to stay, but their circumstances deteriorated beyond mere “material sacrifice” to outright poverty, and at a certain point, they’d had enough. Just last week, a friend of mine, a brilliant, capable English-speaker who works three jobs, all in her field, told me that with all the work that she is doing, she can barely make ends meet. She hasn’t given up, though. She constantly takes courses and expands her field of knowledge in the hope of finding better employment.

I don’t think anyone needs a degree from Harvard Business School to figure out that companies do better when their employees are pleased and feel appreciated. Desperate, embittered employees earning subsistence wages do not make for a stable, productive work force.

Speaking for myself, Mr. Company Owner, I do understand. Really. You want to make a profit and live well. There’s nothing wrong with that. Only there’s this one thing: so do I. Like any reasonable person, I prefer to work where my employer appreciates me and pays me what I am worth.

When you are willing to do that, sir, we can talk. Until then, I hope and pray that I will never be desperate enough to need a job at your company.

The Wanderer

Just as I was getting ready to go to bed a little while ago, I heard meowing in the stairwell. Thinking that perhaps one of the local strays had become trapped in our building, I opened my door in order to go downstairs and let it out.

Imagine my shock when a lovely tortoiseshell cat with white paws walked into my apartment and started sniffing around!

She was not wearing a collar. Fortunately, I realized immediately that she belonged to the couple who live in the apartment directly below mine. I picked her up gently, reassured her that all was well, and made my way down the flight of stairs. Luckily, my neighbors were still awake. I put the cat down, and she waited politely at the door. I knocked, and the husband answered.

“Is this your cat?” I asked him.

“Yes! Thank you so much! I’m sorry for any trouble that you went to,” he said.

“It was no trouble at all. I’m glad she’s home,” I said, and headed back upstairs to tell the story...

... and go straight to sleep!

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The Great Ear Mite Massacre

For the past several days, Hadi had been scratching at her right ear so much that she had developed a sore on the skin nearby. This morning, my neighbor and I got her into the cat carrier and took her to the vet.

It was a fascinating visit. The vet took samples from Hadi’s ear, prepared a slide and put them under his microscope. “Oo-wah,” he said—that’s the Israeli equivalent of “Wow!”—“look at that! She’s got ear mites, all right—loads of them. And an ear infection, too. Hey, come look at this—there’s a female ear mite laying eggs, right here on the slide.”

We looked. She was.

Well, no more. The vet gave Hadi an injection and several topical treatments, including Revolution. That little kitty is now up to her ears—literally—in medications, and it looks like she’s going to be fine.

Now if I can just get the sight of those reproducing ear mites out of my mind....

Friday, May 21, 2010

So How’s Hadi Doing?

Thanks to my friend, her human mom, Hadi’s doing just fine.

She’s so much better since her recent visit to the vet. She’s gotten more affectionate, more trusting and more playful. Here are some photos of her enjoying some human company.

First, doing some kitty yoga:

Hadi practices kitty yoga

Now, posing for the camera:

Hadi

In all this, we’ve been lavishing love and attention on Her Ladyship:

A skritch for Her Ladyship

After a cuddle, Her Ladyship curls up to sleep:

Princess of Siam

Her Ladyship and Hadi have met a few times, and Her Ladyship has yowled and hissed. But we’re not worried. She will get used to Hadi in time, and who knows? They may even be grooming each other in a few months’ time.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Bully at the Bus Station

A young woman named Noa Raz was assaulted in the Central Bus Station last Tuesday for bearing the imprints of tefillin on her arm.

Here is the news story at JTA.

From Ms. Raz’s own account of the incident:

A few minutes after I got to the station, I noticed an older man, in Haredi garb, standing and staring at my arm. A few more seconds went by until he realized that his stare was not transmitting his message clearly enough. He leaned over towards me, pointed to the ruddy stripes on my arm, those that linger on the skin after taking off tefillin, and asked, “Tell me, is that from tefillin?” I ignored him, but he asked again: “Is that from tefillin?” Again, I ignored him, but he moved in on me, stood right in front of me, and again asked, in a loud voice: “Is that from tefillin?” I couldn’t ignore him anymore, so I looked at him and replied, “Yes. What do you want from me?”

To be truthful, I was sure that as soon as I would answer him, he would spit out some curse, turn around and leave. But I was mistaken, he had just started. He forcefully gripped my left arm and simply began kicking me. Of course, he didn’t forget to scream out a concoction of words such as “woman, abomination, desecration,” and more.

At first I just froze. I didn’t understand what was going on. But after a few moments I came to my senses. I struggled with him to free myself and ran for the bus that had now arrived. I felt completely alone. The place was not busy, but there were some people around. Some looked on with interest, others turned away. Only one woman shouted back at him, "Leave her alone, already." I don’t want to think what might have happened had I not managed to get away.

This is yet another example of the highly troubling, and increasing, trend of Haredi extremism here in Israel. I hope that the police are looking for the perpetrator, and that he will be prosecuted for his actions—just like anyone should be prosecuted for attacking someone else unprovoked. (Sorry to say, I’m not holding my breath.)

Since I can’t arrest that despicable bully myself and bring him to justice, here is my answer to him and to all who are like him:

A woman's hand 2

A woman’s arm wrapped in tefillin straps, and her hand holding tzitzit, touching the Western Wall, Judaism’s holiest accessible site. (Come to think of it, a can of pepper spray or a Krav Maga logo might be more appropriate, but I don’t have a picture of either.)

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

My Latest Voiceover Work Is Up on YouTube!

A video produced in honor of the 130th anniversary of the founding of the Neve Horim home for the aged in Jerusalem:

Monday, May 10, 2010

Welcome, Hadi

My friend rescued a cat from her workplace about a week and a half ago. She had her spayed, brought her home, and took her for further veterinary treatment today.

Meet Hadia—Hadi for short.

The new kittycat

My friend, Hadi’s human mom, tells me that both names are actually different words in Arabic. Hadia means “gift.” Hadi means “quiet,” which certainly describes this new little one.

For the first several days, Hadi barely stirred from her cushions on the floor of the closet where she chose to stay. Once she felt more secure, she began to explore her new room. Here, she sits in a regal pose. A rescue she may be, but she is definitely royal. Princess Hadi!

Regal pose

Hadi’s human mom and I are working to get her used to human contact. Here, Hadi allows me to pet her for the first time.

A skritch for the new cat

Hadi enjoys her new scratch pad. Look at her go!

New cat on scratch pad 2

After a vigorous round of scratching, Hadi takes a rest:

Taking a rest 2

Hadi is recovering nicely from her visit to the vet, eating heartily and accepting gentle petting and cuddles.

Welcome, sweetie. Welcome, Hadi.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

The Latest Batch

My camera’s finally back from the shop, and so: pictures!

(Profound thanks to my friend N., who lent me her camera for the duration so that I wouldn’t have to go through photo withdrawal.)

A window decorated with flowers and flags in honor of Israel Independence Day:

Flowers and flags

Passing a stopped train on the way from Bet Shemesh to Jerusalem. Since the route, which was built more than a century ago during the Ottoman era, is so narrow, a side track was built at the old Bar Giora station in order to allow the track to be used by two trains at once. The Tel-Aviv-bound train stops briefly on the side track while the Jerusalem-bound train passes it and the two drivers wave to each other—yes, I saw that!

Train meet

Here’s the train parked at the Jerusalem station:

Jerusalem train station

A display downtown to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the birth of Theodor (Binyamin Zeev) Herzl. This popular Israeli song (lyrics: Yankele Rotblit; music: Yair Rosenblum; vocals: Rivka Michaeli) was on the soundtrack as the display progressed:

Celebrating Herzl's sesquicentennial

Finally, a mirror image on a plant at Kibbutz Tzora:

Mirror image

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Happy Independence Day!

Some photos in honor of Israel’s 62nd anniversary:

Three women in an archway in downtown Jerusalem:

Three women in an archway

A scarlet pimpernel, very close up:

A scarlet pimpernel, super close up

As I watched the horse and rider approach, the rider stopped the horse so that I could admire him. I held out my hand for the horse to sniff. Then I stroked him, and he dipped his head to me. His name is Blondie.

Blondie and friend

Finally, red, white and blue:

Red, white and blue

Hag atzma’ut sameah!

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Memorial Day

This post ran originally on May 1, 2006.

Helichrysum sanguineum

The deep crimson flower above has many names: red everlasting, cudweed, Helichrysum sanguineum. In Hebrew it is called dam ha-maccabim—blood of the Maccabees.

This is the flower that symbolizes the memorial day for Israel’s fallen soldiers and victims of terror attacks. On this day, which started just a few hours ago and which will end tomorrow night—ushering in the festivities of Independence Day—many people wear special stickers bearing an image of this flower and the Hebrew word nizkor—“We will remember.”

Last week we remembered the millions of Jews who were murdered before they could reach these shores. Today we remember those who paid the ultimate price for our ability to live here as free human beings and as Jews.

Actually, we always remember. Not a day goes by that we do not. But most of the time it is a private remembrance. Today it is a shared, public one.

Here are two of the people I remember:

Rafi, a young man from the Netherlands who was in the midst of his conversion process when I met him in the Sar-El volunteer program in 1991. He was killed in a terrorist drive-by shooting the day after Shavuot in 1994, only three months after he had been married, on his way back from a vacation with his wife at a Gush Katif hotel. One of the medics who tried to resuscitate Rafi recalled that the marks of his tefillin were still visible on his arm when he died. I was listening to the radio when the news broke, but because Rafi had changed his surname since we had last met, I didn’t realize he was the one who had been murdered until I saw his photograph on the front page of the newspaper the next morning. One of the last times I saw Rafi was at the annual Yom ha-Shoah memorial service at Yad Vashem. I was there with my ulpan class; he was there in IDF uniform as a Sar-El volunteer.

Sara, a member of my women’s tefilla group and the first of us to take a stand on wearing a tallit during our services. At her urging we held an evening of learning and debate about the issue. Well into the evening, Sara told us that she had to leave a little early because she was going on a trip to Petra with her fiancé early the following morning. We said goodbye and wished her a good trip. The next morning, the No. 18 bus on which Sara and her fiancé were traveling was blown up by a terrorist. It was February 1996. They had planned to go to Petra; they never even made it to the Central Bus Station.

Some years ago I learned that the essential oil of the helichrysum plant heals hurts and bruises. Since then I have wondered whether that might, on some level, however unconscious, have anything at all to do with the fact that this flower was chosen as the symbol of one of the most painful days in our calendar.

We go on... but we always remember.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Holocaust Memorial Day

This morning, after the siren, I thought about two people.

One was Mr. Bill Ahrens, my eighth-grade social-studies teacher. I don’t remember whether he was a World War II veteran, but for some reason I seem to remember hearing that he was. He taught our class a unit on the Holocaust, during which he showed us the film Night and Fog. It was extremely difficult to watch, but Mr. Ahrens told us that we needed to see it because one day, people would try to say that the Holocaust had never happened, and here, on film, was proof that it had.

The other person whom I remembered was a co-worker in the US who, more than twenty years ago, maintained that anti-Semitism was dead. (This was the same workplace in which another co-worker later defaced, with impunity, a poster advertising events in honor of Israel Independence Day.)

I would like to contact Mr. Ahrens today to thank him... and I would also like to ask my former co-worker whether he still believes that anti-Semitism—or, as I prefer to name it, Jew-hatred—is dead.

Some more posts:

Katie Green: The six million, this time around

Treppenwitz: Jewish Anti-Semitism

Meryl Yourish: Never again

Finally, a song. Lyrics: Natan Alterman. Music: Naomi Shemer. It’s called “Al em ha-derekh”—a tree stood at the crossroads. In the song, which takes place sometime during the Aliyah Bet period, a young mother sings a lullaby to her son, a baby too young to understand the terrible and tragic story that she tells him about why they are on a barely-seaworthy boat on a stormy sea, sailing to the Land of Israel... and why his grandfather is not on the boat together with them.

The song was performed by the Israeli navy’s entertainment troupe in 1972. The lead singer is Haya Arad.

The video above contains a slightly abridged version. The full version, complete with lyrics, is here. Another full version that shows Haya Arad and the Navy Entertainment Troups is here. The lyrics (in Hebrew) are here.

Friday, April 09, 2010

Cat on Tour

Actually, I was the one on the tour—a walking tour given by Dani Barkai, an excellent guide, and this is the cat I met.

The cat I watered

She was thirsty, so I watered her.

Specifically, I poured water from my bottle into the palm of my hand and let her drink. (Of course, I couldn’t get a picture of that.)

By the time Dani had completed his explanation, the cat had drunk her fill and wasn’t showing interest in drinking any more water. So I grabbed a photo and headed off with the group.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Saturday, April 03, 2010

A Visit to the Western Wall during Passover

Last Friday morning, my group, Women of the Wall, held a prayer service at the Western Wall.

As we arrived and walked into the prayer area—passing the male security guard who sat at the entrance—I noticed that the women’s section had been expanded slightly. The metal divider, which is partially open here, is the one that is in place all year round. The divider covered with white sheets is the new divider, which was put in place for the holiday.

Temporary divider in the women's section

The prayer service was great—pleasant, quiet, completely uneventful, the way a prayer service ought to be. Some of the women present wore tallitot (prayer shawls) and nobody noticed—or, if anyone noticed, they didn’t say so. There were no disturbances at all, and the peace and quiet were wonderful.

I took this photo right before Hallel. Afterward, the group proceeded to Robinson’s Arch for the Torah reading. (I didn’t go because I had to leave early.)

Women of the Wall, hol ha-mo'ed Pesah 2010

In my opinion, Friday morning’s service was yet more proof, as if we needed any, that Women of the Wall constitutes no disturbance of the peace or threat to public order at all. The threat and disturbance come exclusively from those who come to the Western Wall deliberately to make trouble and engage in violent behavior. I suppose that the troublemakers were on vacation last Friday morning, which was just fine with us.

Since my friend D. had to leave early, too, we left together. On the way out, she called my attention to the dividers that had been placed behind the prayer area, in the plaza itself. “I think I know what’s happening here,” she told me. “There’s probably a plan to make this entire plaza separate, with men entering from one side of the plaza and women from the other.”

I reflected that this wouldn’t be practical at all for families who wanted to visit the Western Wall. They’d have to split up well before they got there, with one gender going around to the parking area and the other coming down from the direction of the Arab market. This would make visits to the Western Wall practically impossible for families with small children or elderly relatives. But when have considerations of practicality, or even common decency, stopped people or groups who were hungry for power and control?

At any rate, here are the dividers in the plaza, behind the prayer area, complete with signs above them ordering men to one side and women to the other:

Divider outside prayer area

That wasn’t all, though. Before we left the plaza, I decided to head for the restroom. As I began to walk toward the stone buildings at the other end of the plaza where the restrooms for both men and women are located, D. stopped me. “They’ve moved the women’s restrooms,” she said, drawing my attention to the sign above the doorway where they usually were.

Sign directing women to improvised restrooms

The sign reads: “Women’s restrooms in the parking area.”

So I turned back and headed toward the new, improvised restrooms. My friend said, “They’re probably messy and smelly.” I said, “They probably will be later in the day, but right now it’s still early. I’ll chance it.”

Of course, I also wanted to blog about them and post pictures. Here they are.

The improvised women’s restrooms, from the outside:

Sign: "Restrooms for women only"

The signs seem pretty stern, saying: “Restrooms for women only.” My friend and I had to laugh. Why was it necessary to add the word “only”? As if the restrooms were unisex the rest of the year!

Inside the small improvised restroom compound:

The entrance to the ladies' room at the Western Wall, Passover 2010

The sinks up close:

Sinks in the improvised ladies' room at the Western Wall, Passover 2010

Note that there is no soap, nor are there paper towels, as there are in the proper restrooms on the other side of the plaza.

So this is it: no soap, paper towels, hand-drying machines, counters, or changing tables. Because everyone knows that ritual washing cups are sufficient for proper sanitation, and mothers can change their babies on the stone floor.

Seriously: if it was so important to separate the restrooms by an entire plaza, then why couldn’t this improvised compound be for the men, and the women be allowed to keep the proper indoor restrooms? It would seem that in certain communities, chivalry is not only dead, but evidently never existed in the first place.

Here’s the exit, same as the entrance:

The entrance to the ladies’ room at the Western Wall, Passover 2010

I was so happy with our quiet and uneventful prayer service... but so disheartened to see these additional changes in the Western Wall plaza. This does not bode well.

Whose idea was it? And who gave permission?