N, Na, Nak, Nakba!

Part 1 in the "Making Up For Lost Blogging" Series.

So, I'm not sure I'm looking forward to work on Thursday. Thursday (for the information of those Shabak operatives who might be tracking my every move) is usually an East Jerusalem workday. However, THIS Thursday is when the Palestinians have chosen to mark the 60 Year Nakba (literally translated as "catastrophe"- and pertaining to the creation of Israel) Anniversary. So there'll be a siren in Ramallah, and standing in silence everywhere else (lasting 3 minutes, apparently. Just to show the Israelis that our 2-minute remembrance siren is pathetic potatoes in comparison.)

This time of year always gets particularly hairy for me. Last year, I was almost in the EJ office for Holocaust Remembrance Day. As I left home that morning, I impulsively decided to call in "late" and get my car washed instead (a mighty and time-consuming detour indeed) as I realised that I didn't want to be there for when they would likely ignore the wailing siren, and I'd feel uncomfortable standing alone in the office. The years have taught me that it would be too much to expect the Palestinian street to stand for a minute to remember the victims of the greatest human atrocity of our time (especially being as they don't consider it as such, and in fact blame it squarely for creating what they believe to be the greatest atrocity of their time.) Ah well. I figured I'd skip the potential uncomfortable silence (sic) in my office and leave any disgruntled colleagues to take up their ongoing grievances vis-a-vis problematic Holocaust-Israel associations with all the German funders which keep their corner of the Palestinian NGO sector alive, should they so wish.

Back to Nakba Day. So, it's this coming Thursday: Not, as many people believed, last week when Israel celebrated Independence Day. (That was another rum day for yours truly. In fact, quite a few amused folks even sent me "Happy Nakba" smses in the morning, which all blended nicely in the midday hangover sun. I tried to write back to one such comedian saying that a) it wasn't the right day, and b) "Happy" and "Nakba" in a sentence doesn't really work -unless maybe you're Joe Settler- but that wasn't entirely successful- I had nobody to blame but myself for attending a party with paintstripper vodka and no mixers.)

So unless reading the "This Week In Palestine" Nakba Special counts, I've admittedly been avoiding the whole shebang. Not that it was any easier than usual, celebrating 60 Years of Israel on my side of the fence: I attended my old haunt, the Alternative Independence Day Torch-lighting Ceremony, and felt very far removed from quite a substantial portion of the rhetoric spewed forth (although those adorable Marxists were still there... in fact, I'm sure that even after the nuclear Armageddon they'll still be there, waving their red flags and entreating the all new, mutated rat-human race to form communes.) Seriously, some of the organizations represented at the ceremony this year do fine work. But while those folks spoke beautifully and to the point, they weren’t in the majority, and there was only so much Israeli intolerance/ignorance of the "other" that I could listen to. It was when one of the esteemed lighters told the audience that "all settlers" were "parasitic murderers," that I snapped, with a not-quiet "Enough of this B******t! I'm outta here!" And walked rather ostentatiously away from the crowd. As we were leaving, one of my (Jewish Israeli) friends got a call from a colleague, a woman to the right of her politically, who among other things sarcastically asked her how she was marking her "Day Of Mourning." And so it goes... it looks like the Israeli Right Wing have as much narrative reconciliation ahead of them opposite the Israeli Left Wing as the Israelis and Palestinians do: I only hope that such a feat can come to pass before we mark the next 60 years of whatever we’re marking.

UPDATE- I just spoke to one EJ colleague to ask what the deal was re Thursday. "Will the office be open?" I asked her. "And if it is, is it going to make things uncomfortable for everyone* if I'm there when they're marking Nakba?"

"Sweetie," she laughed at me, "You know us better than that by now... For those who'll be marking Nakba, every day is Nakba! Thursday will be just another day, with heightened security at the checkpoints. You? You do whatever you like."

* me!

Still Alive

Now I'm sure nobody is even bothering to check this silent pink page anymore, and for good reason. It's been so long since I pressed "New Post", that I was actually surprised when they let me sign in again!

Anyway- I'm reappearing in a blink-and-you'll-miss-me fashion because this afternoon I decided to comment on a Guardian piece which I then thought might be worth sharing with "all" of you: If nothing else, to see what the lovely Comment Is Free trolls have to say to my ISM-cutting comment on the latest Rachel Corrie Memorial piece to grace their pages (I think mine is #11- I tried to play nice, but I'm sure I'll be abused accordingly in due course...)

Hope you're all well. Between the craziness, I do still try and follow the goings-on in the blogosphere... it has been quite an intense few months and while certain jaundiced folks might claim that Facebook has become my new blog, the truth is that no amount of "superpokin" will suffice (although it is admittedly fun to throw things/sheep/American Idol judges at your "friends" and not get told off for it.) I've simply not had the energy to formulate anything resembling well-constructed comment on the sheer amount of goings-on in my corner(s) of the region, preferring instead to read that of other people, when I have the time.

This may yet change, however- things are hotting up and I'm sitting on some exciting notions which I might well share. Or I might be forced to fade right back into the ether: We'll see. Either way, look after yourselves, and watch this space...

How Do You Say "Yom Kef" In Arabic?

A few weeks ago, just at the start of the summer tourist season, my Palestinian office announced that we'd all be going on an Office "Fun Day". (Called "Yom Kef" in Hebrew) I've only ever been on a handful of "Fun Days" since I began my professional life in this country, and they've mostly not been "fun" at all (W, remember the Lunch of Olives on the Mount of Olives?) and so I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Then, upon discovering that the plan was to go Kayaking "up North" on the Jordan River, I was very pleased: What better way to spend a Thursday in a heatwave? And I hadn't been Kayaking since participating in a Zionist Youth movement program, and I definitely recall it being Much Fun.

It didn't begin in a particularly fun manner: First of all, the beyond ridiculously early start, because the West Bank Palestinians had one day permits to be in Israel, and we had to leave in time to get back in time to get them back through the checkpoints. Or we could all have been jailed, apparently. Nice! Then, well into our journey, It suddenly occurs to me that our minibus has taken the "Occupation Superhighway*" aka Israel Toll Road 6, which I've only ever heard hailed by many of these colleagues as a Palestinian land-grabbing, environment-destroying money pit. "Er, I thought you didn't travel on here as it cuts through the Territories?" I ask one of the bosses, tentatively. "Well, we can't go via Jericho and the Jordan Valley, even though it would be the quickest way," she replies "because they won't necessarily let us through the army checkpoints, even though everyone's permits are all in order. And we'll miss the Kayaks if they hold us up there all day..."

Well indeed, who am I to question anything anymore? I stretch out on my seat, finding it a little bizarre, yet familiar: I mean, I've taken countless such trips before to Israel's premier touring reserves, dozing on the bus in my hiking clothes, applying sunscreen while the air conditioning leaks, and people around me make jokes, munching on warm fruit and wilted sandwiches. I've just never done it in Arabic before.

(Their Arabic, n.b.: I mostly just smile and nod. And talk in another language if I need to make myself understood beyond "Can I have some more cheese")

Ah, the North. LOVE the North! Especially as we get closer to the Kinneret (Sea of Galillee) around where I spent some of the best months of my 19th year on a Kibbutz, I reminisce out loud. Fuelled by a sudden burst of North-lurve euphoria, I point out "my" kibbutz to a girl who has recently joined our office, as we drive by its junction. She smiles politely, and tells me her husband's family fled from the village which was razed to make way for it.

Yeah, so I decide to rein in the euphoria from that point on. (And try not to start wondering how many other razed Arab villages there are around here: Today, Kayaking! Tomorrow, I'll check the "Zochrot" website.)

We get there: A guide gives us instructions in Hebrew. Halfway through, one of the Palestinians, who doesn't understand, makes a joke: the instructor switches to Arabic immediately- who knew, most of the people working at the Kayak place are Arabs with Israeli citizenship. I’m sure that this was probably the case always- I just wouldn’t have noticed on previous trips.

Only once we're on the water does the surreality of the next 2 hours dawn: I'm now in a boat with 3 colleagues whose common language is Arabic (which basically leaves me high and dry if we aren't swearing, taking telephone messages or asking for more cheese), one of whom speaks some Hebrew, one of whom speaks English and also quite randomly does a killer impression of American tourists speaking/singing in bad Hebrew (apparently many march through his neighbourhood in the Old City regularly) and one newer girl who speaks no languages I speak, so we communicate mostly via gestures and smiles. Other boats that go past get very confused. "Are you guys American?" ask the Israeli National Service girls in heavily-accented English and patronizing smiles as they float past to hear me cursing (in Brummie) the fact that my sunglasses have just chosen to jump off my face and start a new life at the bottom of the river Jordan. "Ugh, Heaven Forbid! We're from Jerusalem" I snap back at her in Hebrew, just as one of my friends spots a distant cousin in a nearby boat and deafens us all in a stream of Arabic excitement. Then a boat full of 16 year-old American girls drifts past, getting stuck in the riverbank trees until my Old City-dwelling colleague masterfully sets them free. "Ohmigod, Israeli guys are like, SO. HOT." says one of them, gazing at his Palestinian back adoringly as we sail away, and then giggling as he strikes up a rousing chorus of American-accented "Hevenu Shalom Alechem" to serenade the settler family now floating by- who just so happen to be wearing T-shirts emblazoned with slogans advocating his transfer. It's all getting a little too much for me to cope with, in all this heat, so I start singing "Row, Row Row Your Boat"- and the North is alive with the sound of music.

Much fun is had by all on and in the river Jordan (good to know that we’re never too old for water fights), and we eventually saunter back to the bus, passing the settler family from before, all wearing those racist T-shirts and looking frankly petrified when they see us approaching. "Arabs!" the kids whisper to each other, one of them scowling directly at my fake crocs... its all downright weird.

Then we move on to Tel Dan for lunch (just missing my friend S the Fantastic, who happens to be guiding a tourist group around there that day) Once we're there -and it's gorgeous, if you've never been- I'm once again struck by all the different demographics enjoying their tours around the place. In the space of 15 minutes, Ultra-orthodox teenage girls, kibbutz Israelis, high-schoolers, German Christian Tourists, Japanese pilgrims, and American teenagers troupe past where we've set up "camp" in the picnic area. It feels so far away from the tense environs of East Jerusalem as we sit, surrounded by mountains of good food, really enjoying the day off. Love the North! Yet in all honesty, East Jerusalem doesn’t feel so far away after all: Despite the sleepy heat, it’s clear that several passersby appear to be regarding our relaxed group with suspicion, solely because, it seems to me, they're cracking jokes in loud Arabic. Again, while I understand why some people might find that scary if they’ve never been taught that all Arabs aren’t terrorists, our group aren't exactly walking around waving Hamas flags and Uzis proclaiming the re-conquering of Tel El-Qadi (apparently the original name in Arabic, and I just had to look that up.) All we’re doing is eating watermelon and telling silly jokes, yet we’re still all getting our share of scowls and nervous glances from various walking past . Me too, and I'm only laughing at the punchlines I understand -about 1 in 999999- while collapsed in a sun-daze wearing fake crocs singing Row Row Row Your Boat to myself - what exactly is frightening about this picture?

I get my answer to that question a little later, on our way home (at breakneck speed to get back to the checkpoints in time) when we stop at a large Mall as we're exiting the North. All manner of languages are spoken there at high decibels- Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, Amharic- yet none of the shopping locals look particularly "bovvered." Ah- the North rocks! Full to bursting with all manner of potentially confrontational Jewish/Arab demographics, yet despite the history, provocative political tensions are without doubt scant in comparison to other areas of the Holy Land. (In all fairness, it isn’t just the North- there are many other regions of Israel which maintain ongoing and un-flashy coexistence in many languages. I just really love the North) I noted in retrospect that the people who seemed scared and distrustful of me and my colleagues on the Kayaks and in Tel Dan appeared by and large to be folks from both abroad and from sheltered communities within Israel who've probably never seriously contemplated the potential normalcy of coexistence, and probably never will. The same folks who stare at me in horror when I tell them I work with Palestinians and ask me “But how can you help… the enemy??” And that, I conclude back on the coach watching the sun set, is all rather sad. And that's just when considering the position of the Jews: I'm not under any illusions (ongoing Occupation, n'all) that large sections of Palestinian society would be any more amenable to notions of coexistence either. I stare out the window as we speed back Jerusalem-wards, contemplating how to engender lasting trust between peoples... I'm running out of inspiration. Oh well, at least the North is gorgeous. Oh look, there's a JNF Forest... And hark, there's a “Zochrot” sign right beside it, marking a razed Palestinian village... Row, Row, Row Your Boat...


Hope you're all having a lovely summer.

Ps. The answer to the question is "Yahm Keif"

*Copyright, Mr. @themuqata.

An Open Letter to The Guardian's "Comment Is Free"

Dear Editors,

Now, first up, don't worry. This isn't in any way one of those abusive missives from a Jewish reader where I take you to task on the Guardian's - or rather, CIF's- blatant bias vis-a-vis Israel/Palestine. While I admit, there was a time when it used to depress me slightly, nowadays I really rather enjoy it: I never cease to be amused when the anti-Zionist commenters protest with the same level of vitriol as their online foes that CIF is slanted towards Israel. And lately, I've been on the edge of my seat, waiting to see which proclaimed head of terror organization will next submit a column. Sarcasm aside, I personally think you're doing a great job holding it all together, mediating what has essentially transformed into an online version of the Middle East Conflict. It can't be easy, and I salute you and send you a very big bottle of Rescue Remedy.

However, lately I've noticed that you've gotten quite fond of certain local columnists, in particular some Jewish immigrants to Israel originally from NW London (spit) who essentially seem to serve as your unofficial "Voice of Reason/Yoof Culture" from the Israeli side, and in that spirit are currently embarking upon a tour of the West Bank, interviewing its Jewish residents and writing up exposés of the choice nuggets they hear, to the general delight/distress of the CIF masses.

Not to overly dismiss the efforts of the brothers-?- Freedman, but I think that it may be time for a change. I propose that you answer the call of many of your commenters, who are requesting for more such exposés- from the Palestinian side as well: I would therefore like to present myself for such a task. I'd be more than happy to write you a series covering the NGO scene in the Jerusalem/West Bank area. And while yes, I agree, there's a small technical hitch that I'm not Palestinian, if you've ever read my blog you will note that I'm in quite an unique position to report from the edge. Further, Palestinians "in the soup", as it were (ie not the myriad finishing their post-Docs at SOAS who tend to grace the CIF pages) aren't going to be as willing to share "street" emotions from here as I am: That delightful Hamas gent who wrote a column last week basking in the post-Johnston glow will never repeat to you sentiments of the like that I quietly observe and absorb on a daily basis.

Furthermore, I'm actually very objective about being positioned in the midst of conflict: Read my archives and see for yourself. And I'm even quite funny sometimes. And I can spell and punctuate correctly (most of the time). Last but not least, I noticed you even pay a token fee for your CIF pieces: While Linda Grant may have dismissed such as sum as insulting for writers, for a Jerusalem-based NGO worker that would be a small fortune. And I'm even British, so there'd be no tax issues.

I do hope that my suggestion is one that you may be prepared to consider favourably: Being as your section of my long-time preferred daily appears to have developed such an obsession for this region, I think your readers will delight at the chance to hear something real, different and vaguely productive- I can even attempt to be optimistic on occasion, should you so desire.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Sincerely,

tafka PP

Coming Together For Laughs

We interrupt this blogging hiatus to comment briefly on The Israeli-Palestinian Comedy Tour, which I caught last night at its final show in Jerusalem. (And apparently, according to Blogger, this appears to be my 200th post! Ah me... It seems like just yesterday when I first became a blogger...blah blah blah)

So, back to the "Tour" - I’d read about it, even watched clips on YouTube and dismissed it as knee-jerk cheese which didn’t ring particularly “authentic”: 4 professional comedians, all born in the USA - 3 Jews (2 of whom hold Israeli citizenship and live here) and 1 Palestinian who lives in Chicago, who not only writes regularly for an Israeli paper but also happens to be married to a Jewish woman? Onstage coexistence didn’t exactly seem like the greatest stretch for these gentlemen!

But in retrospect I'm very glad I bothered. If nothing else, if was a revelation to hear Ray Hanania, whose columns I occasionally read: He took his platform as the lone Palestinian comic very seriously, delivering some stingingly controversial lines, as many of which were unpalatable as hysterical to the audience of tourists and English-speaking inhabitants of West Jerusalem. Hanania’s humourous delivery of the same rhetoric that we all so often hear spoken in fury, resignation or cold dispassion seemed almost radical inside the cozy synagogue: Apparently his routine went down very well with Palestinian audiences too, as did the diverse sets of the 3 Jewish comics, all of whom poked fun at Israeli life with gusto and got their deserved laughs - some more deserved than others, it must be said... even after multiple hearings, still gotta love Yisrael Campbell’s line about the bourgeois settlement of Efrat being “Just like Disneyland- But with Guns!”

So between the laughs and the odd painful silence, I even overcame my prior mental snorting about the tour’s bona fide status: Indeed- as if "native" Israeli comedians making jokes about army service and bad driving in Hebrew would ever actually be welcomed/permitted/understood- not to mention safe- if they were to suddenly decide to embark on a comprehensive tour of The West Bank and Gaza’s finest comedy hotspots! Similarly, Palestinian black humour about daily strife under occupation is something I’ve always found that they prefer to keep to themselves, withholding it almost as a secret weapon away from their Israeli “oppressors”… So perhaps an initial comedy tour in English, which fuses all these elements and appeals to many on both sides, with the added bonus of no patronizing declarations of solving anything, isn’t the worst idea in the world?

Indeed, even though some of the jokes truly bombed (no, please, don’t excuse the pun) while we’re all collectively witnessing the degeneration of this region at a rate of knots, last night laughing about it definitely seemed like a better option than crying about it: I was not unimpressed. And that, coming from me in these times, is praise of the most authentic variety.

Dropping their Guard

Those poor people at the Guardian sound like they need some trauma counselling more urgently than the beleaguered residents of Sderot and Gaza, it would seem, being as one of their headlines today screams in transparent "where did we go wrong?" desperation: UCU head against Academic Boycott of Israel

Sally Hunt, general secretary of the University and College Union (UCU), is expected to tell conference delegates later today that the issue should not be a major priority for the union and that a boycott is unlikely to win majority support from members. She will tell delegates on the opening day of the union's inaugural national congress in Bournemouth: "I simply do not believe that the majority of UCU members support an academic boycott of Israel or that they believe it should be a major priority for the union.

Oh, the horror... There's a sensible person heading a British Academic Unions who has chosen to focus upon... Education! Who could ever fathom that someone could possibly declare that jumping on the boycott bandwagon should not be prioritised? Quick, Guardian, call the Thought Police!

Poor dears, they can hardly keep their distress between the lines. But nevertheless they do their utmost to not-so-subtley shout down the (very reasoned, IMHO) comments by Ms. Hunt via the various "interest" articles they attach at the end, purported to give balance and background. (Hmm, obviously they can't add this one or even this one from their own paper yesterday which nevertheless has been shunted mysteriously out of all Middle-East related sidebars. Don't you just love journalistic freedom.)

I suppose it is too much to hope for a day when reliable sources of media will actually begin to focus upon reporting facts as opposed to further their agendas: Maybe that is why less and less people read the news and instead rely on tailored feed-y sites like that scary Little Green Footballs or equally belligerent electronicintifada: Much better to get your news fed to you in Bite-sized pieces spiced with flavours appropriate to your palate, and eat them with others who share your view. Not much use, however, if one is inclined to try a smidgen of everything...

(yes, we've gotten back to food metaphors again! I am nothing if not predictable)

I personally might propose that all journalistic agendas in the UK should be hereby abolished and passed on to that hilarious Scouse medium who used to be on TalkRadio in the early hours. (Derek something?) At least his interpretations would be constantly entertaining and not pretend to be anything but interpretation. Sadly, even the above nugget of transparency from the Guardian has only brief amusement potential, before it gets washed away in a CIF comments storm and makes me wonder why I bother. But before the depression sinks in, can I just say, Kudos to Ms. Hunt of the UC for not playing silly politics: I only hope she is not personally damaged by the inevitable fallout.


*** Update*** Read Bradley Burston on the Aftermath of the vote which enforece the Boycott. Primarily because he's said everything I wanted to say, and mostly because I've not got the energy at this point.

Favourite Restaurants Meme! Woohoo!

Thank you Cheezy, for tagging me with a Food Meme! Love an excuse to write about grub, especially when I'm hungry and find myself fantasizing about chocolate-coated brocolli (thanks for nothing, BOTH)

to the Meme!

The rules:

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.
Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
miss kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)
Jiggs Casey (Berkeley, CA, USA! USA! USA!)
Tits McGee (New England, USA)
Kat (Ontario, Canada)
Cheezy (London, England)
tafka PP (Jerusalem, Israel)

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location. (Cheezy tagged me as in "Israel" so I think I get the run of the whole country for this purpose... 'k, here goes!)

1) Maharajah, Ramle Fantastic, cheap n'cheerful, authentic Indian where the service, menu, adjoining ingredients shop and often hilarious decor makes you really feel like you're not in Israel (the restaurant is maintained by Indian immigrants who live locally) The only drawback is the confusing drive, but who cares if you get stuck in traffic? The upcoming gorge is definitely worth it.

2) Cafe Hillel, Anywhere (although I frequent the original branch in downtown Jerusalem) Call me a traditionalist, call me lazy, call me poor. I love their salads, quiches and yes even the ice coffee. And I used to adore their sandwiches as well, back in the days when I could still eat bread... Just a shame that they don't pay their staff minimum wage.

3) Marvad HaKsamim (Magic Carpet) "Behind HaMashbir on King George St", Jerusalem. This is where I learned to love kube soup, humus with meat/beans, stuffed vegetables, marinated chicken breast kebabs and... okra! And this one has the added advantage of being relatively free of loud American tourists, unlike the newer shinier branches in more affluent areas.

4) Decks, Tiberius Marina I've only been there once, years ago- but the memories of glorious meats and inventive side dishes still linger in the tastebuds even now, and so it hereby makes it into the Top 5. Absolutely not for vegetarians: I recall being greeted by several revolving cows. Food tastes even better if taken there by rich holidaying/hi-teching friends or family. Runner-up in this section: Papagaio, Herzliya Marina; Many different animals- All You Can Eat. Say no more.

5) I can't be on (5) already! Noooo... But I still wanted to put Jan's Bar (under the Jerusalem Theatre. Love everything about that place, especially the snuggle seating, the hot wine and the pancakes) as well as the Freij place in Beit Hanina - although not technically a cafe or restaurant, their white cheese and oregano fatayer are deadly dangerous- for my digestion, my waistline and possibly my spiritual health. Well, let's have 'em both.

3. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.


Gilly, (legendary local restaurant critic, temporarily dispatched to) Rockville, MD
Anglosaxy, Tel Aviv, Israel
HolyLand Hipster (She seems to live in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and New York - so she can do a mix!)
Liza, "The North", Israel
Rachel, (Currently) Woman of the World
Harry, our man in Modi'in

And anyone else who wants to do this (especially if you're on strike, bored at work, or have "Bagel" in your name) consider yourself tagged!

Off to find some lunch.

Methinks the Lady...

... - actually, there's no "methinks" about it. This particular "Lady" has indeed been protesting far too much over the past 12 months, for all manner of reasons. And a very demoralising process it is too. So, when deliberating over coffee last week with Ms. TourGuide (who hasn't updated her blog in so long she doesn't really deserve a hyperlink) as to whether to go to the large planned demonstration last Thursday protesting the current Israeli Leadership (sic), it was far clearer to me that I wasn't going to attend than which type of coffee I felt like ordering.

(Incidentally, I'm realising that, after a good few years of ordering lattes, macchiatos, capuccinos etc at every turn, I don't actually like coffee all that much. Hmm. I wonder if everyone feels the same way and is also just beginning to wake up to the fact? If that is the case, it'll be an easy way to bring down The Starbucks Man...)

Digression as usual: Back to the Demo. Or not... Even the usual suspects among the local bloggers had their own issues this time around: Jameel (our friendly local settler) wasn't sure if he wanted to participate, whereas Harry had the best of intentions, but couldn't make it (feel better!). Noorster was there, but wasn't impressed. And Resident Traveler's interesting account of proceedings begins with his wait for the bus...

In the long queue for Tel Aviv, an obvious old-school Jerusalem-intelligentsia
left-winger was having a low-level argument with a family of settlers, even as
they were headed to the exact same rally. No point in specifying types: everyone was represented.

If you want some more background reading, Lisa has also analysed everything. Yay for the politically savvy blogosphere: I personally happen to be very grateful for their various commentaries, because I have nothing to say. I'm as bitter as an espresso: I've personally spent a busy few months year making, transporting and waving a plethora of placards across this land for various reasons, (even hiding behind them on occasion) and all I have learned is that nobody -beyond the folks who already care- seems to care. And even a few days after this big 'un, where substantially more people showed up than the tiny ones I'm used to attending- our elected leaders still seem more concerned with arranging suitable coverage for their respective sorry posteriors.

It would be nice to close one's eyes and make it all disappear. But that isn't possible, so instead I think I'm going to make another Vanilla Chai with Soya Milk.

Feeling Burned

From the (very) recent telephonic archives:

Good Friend (who worked for an Israeli Radical Left Movement): Hi- you'll be going to the Alternative Torchlighting Ceremony tonight, right? Can I get a ride to the Govt compound with you?

PP: Well, you absolutely could have done if I'd been going, but I'm not going this year.

GF: WHAT??? Why not? Are you feeling ok?!

PP: Very funny. No, I'm not going because this year they've apparently invited Tali Fahima to light a torch, among others. I don't get it: She doesn't represent me. And I also remembered that last year I left the same ceremony halfway through because they started yelling nonsense about Marx which, while that was all fun and relevant when I was 17, isn't really going to solve Israel's problems right now, is it? (Sigh) But it's not like I'll be tripping off to wave flags at the mainstream torchlighting ceremonies either, where everything is plastic soundbites: Especially after the enforced gloom of Yom HaZikaron, and last year's war and hostages so fresh in our minds, not to mention everything else which is still happening around us as we speak in the territories. So, er, yeah...that's why I'm not going... Sorry- that was probably a longer answer than you were expecting!

GF: Tali Fahima? Seriously? Hmm. Well, I agree with you. I don't think I want to go either! I mean- why are the organizers and the movements all getting so dafka? (There's no translation for this word, in this context it means "unecessarily over-the-top") You know- maybe we'll have to start up a new more normal movement of our own?!

PP: Yeah. Or maybe not. Maybe we should just go to a Barbeque and eat good food, hang out with friends and just for a few hours, not think about the negative implications of the state of our State?

GF: Riiight... Well, good luck with that: Get back to me on Wednesday and let me know how you did!

About Face

Lord, I don't know what on earth possessed me to join Facebook!

- Actually, I am perfectly aware of what my motivation was: Inexplicably, all the (non-"best deals for viagra") emails to my inbox virtually dried up overnight, and the ones which did still deign to arrive were all inevitably from Facebook, telling me that someone "had added me as a friend". And then there were the increasingly ubiquitous conversations about it. There was only so much a girl could take... So, I capitulated.

And it's not even been a week, and I haven't got a scrap of work done since. Urgent reports? Meetings? Paperwork? Pah! These have all fallen by the professional wayside, paling into insignificance - because there's "newsfeed" to check! - who knows whether people I either haven't seen since I was eight or met with for coffee yesterday have added me as a friend, eaten bread for breakfast, used the toilet in the last hour or joined a group called "Hands Up Who Thinks The Sky Is Blue?", "I'm Bored At Work", "Woof!" or similar. And I haven't even been reading the real news in all this time, now I come to think of it!

No, don't get me wrong, I'm having fun: It's great to re/connect with nice people and this is clearly the way forward. (Although I can't help but worry that one day in the not-so distant, we won't remember what people's faces actually look like beyond the carefully chosen Facebook album display. And further, the human race will have lost the ability to communicate via speech, instead we'll be walking around with keyboards and monitors surgically attached to our person. Well, I guess that could make dating more interesting.)

And who knew, alongside all the old/new friends (and the other people who add you just to bulk up their numbers) there are even some relevant groups out there among all the mad ones, I'm slowly discovering. Maybe I'll even start my own when I've become more au fait with the system. Hmm... How about "Jerusalemites for Social Change"? "Jerusalemites completely worn out and disheartened trying in to effect Social Change"? "Jerusalemites for Social Chocolate"?

Ok, well, nice as it has been to chat, I've got to run. Never mind the deadlines: I've got to check again if my 16 year old cousin has confirmed me as his friend yet.

Crumbs

Note to self: Next time you de-plane* after a rather long- albeit most enjoyable- work trip on a continent far far away, try not to do it quite so VERY close to the mandatory and meticulous spring clean you are supposed to faithfully undertake for the swiftly approaching festival of Passover.

*Yes, indeed, English speakers- "De-plane" is a real word in the language they call American! The attendants all said it, on all my internal flights, and everything. More than once, so I can conclude that it wasn't even an April Fool's Joke.

And sadly, neither is the fact that at this rate, I'm going to be selling my boot (that's the trunk of the car, Americans) for Chametz.

Just as well I've got this pertinent moan, as (fantastic friends, weddings, and friends' weddings aside) I'm too overwhelmed to recount any of the not-so-subtle "welcomes" I've had to field in the short time I've been back in the "holiness", all of which remind me how incomparably and inhumanly stressful this region can be. I'm also not driven to discuss in any great detail alleged renewed Peace initiatives, Iranians, stupid CIF pieces or growing anti-Semitism in the UK. For now, I'm just going to close my eyes and think of Trader Joe's.

And then open them again, and carry on frantically scrubbing the oven.

Happy Festival of Redemption to you too.

The Streets of Philadelphia and other stories

Aaagh, no time, no time, I'm just signing on for a moment to say that after a several hours-long incident involving a chocka Greyhound bus, 4 cabs, 4 illiterate, potentially illegal and definitely non English-speaking cab drivers and me, I will never use the term "Only In Israel" in exasperation ever again. And that's a promise.

Yeah- so any thoughts I was entertaining of long-term love for the Land of the Free (which I think primarily stemmed from the fact that every time I open my mouth, people comment on the Cute British Accent: Cheap dates!) are melting quicker than the mounds of grey snow which line all the streets. And sadly, even my all-time white bread staple American Idol loses its kitsch charms (ahem) when you watch it in America. No wonder Simon is always so grouchy.

Anyway, let's not lose all faith. Until now it's been great, and I've still got a few more states to be swayed by. So, as the governor of one of them which I still have to hit once said... I'll be back!

Haikus From The Edge

I've shamelessly ripped off both Robbie and Harry here, but I hope these attempts will go some way to explain where I've been, (and where I am still) and why I've not posted in an age... Yellow Boy might actually write something one of these days on more local issues, if he gets any inspiration/free seconds. Anyway- hope you're all well!


Twelve Hour Flight, Noisy Folks
Back Injury.
Lethal Combination

Cool Doctor in Jersey
Gives me strong Drugs
Says he likes my accent

Land of the SUV
Nice not to have to solve
The conflict, today

"Small" supermarket
More food than African country
What to do?

Egyptian cabbie impressed
by Palestinian slang:
Still rips me off

Niagara Falls, from the plane...
Wow. Brief moment
For Superman, too.

Canadian Squirrels are black!
Friendly locals
But it's cold

Guards in H&M:
For client satisfaction-
Not hostile factions

Israel goes flashbulb mad for
Leo, (so I hear
while watching snow melt)

Even though hard work must be done
Strangely refreshing
From this distance

Another Year Older, A New One Just Begun

Don't be fooled- I'm still very much underwater (as we Pisceans are wont to be) but I wanted to surface mometarily and express brief, but deeply heartfelt, gratitude to all those who made me feel warm inside over the course of the big 3-1. There's nothing like good company, wishes, wine and of course, a smattering of the sweet stuff to take one's mind off the seeming failure of one's ongoing efforts to end all regional violence/discrimination/intolerance/poverty etc- nevermind one's growing despair in witnessing the expanding occupation of grey hairs on one's poor defenceless head.

Nevertheless I'll try and blog about something meaningful before I polish off all the Birthday choccie, but no promises: I've decided to strategically divide it between East and West Jerusalem so that it lasts longer. (Long ago, I might have followed that comment with a witty closing segue about the parallels between my eating habits and regional peace, but I fear I'm now too old/cynical/hungover for such verbal frivolities.)

My parting wish is that whether you found yourself in snow, sunshine or sandstorm (yes, that's what we had here, I'm not just alliterating for kicks) you too enjoyed yourself on my birthday! Bye for now...

Away With The Fairies Dolphins

Well, hello. I know it's been a while. What can I say, work has been so heavy of late that I've not had time to breathe, let alone foray into the blogosphere and check that you're all still breathing. So assuming that you are, please forgive me for the prolonged hiatus.

So, as you may have picked up from me in previous posts, it can be a miserable and thankless slog, this whole trying-to-save-the-world lark. (Especially when it doesn't appear to actually want to be saved, instead preferring to rage on angrily, regardless of those pesky lil' consequences such as war, famine, global warming, etc.) In fact, some days ago, following a particularly difficult week, I found myself complaining bitterly about the pointlessness of it all to a friend whose opinion I implicitly trust. Yet this time, having patiently listened to my rantings, his response could not have been more surprising: "D'you know what I feel you should be doing with your life?" he asked me. "No, go on" I replied, waiting for the usual gem or two of encouraging inspiration regarding my chosen field. He cleared his throat. "I feel that you really should be...working with dolphins."

Well, at least that particular gem provided some comic relief. Water sign - the fish one, no less! - I may well be, but all the same, I'm not too convinced of dolphin-tending being my ultimate destiny: Although I imagine it might be a lot less angst-filled. I bet Dolphins don't limit the other's freedom of movement, invent class systems and a multitude of reasons to declare war on each other and assualt/subjugate/murder their females when the mood takes them. Or maybe they do? Any dolphin-experts out there?

I haven't yet had the time to start mapping out my all-new Life With Dolphins- unfortunately I remain trapped in a Life With Deadlines. And a few days later, I'm sitting in the Palestinian office. Everyone is tense because of the heightened security situation around the old city (for my East Jerusalem colleagues, that basically meant that the usual difficulties of the journey to and from their homes would be amplified beyond the norm, added to the fact that they couldn't go pray, or even necessarily get home, they were all generally very nervous; Similarly in West Jerusalem, there was/is much nail-biting afoot in much-hyped fear of an imminent 3rd Intifada) So to change the subject, I tried to go for something more positive and hopeful, and decided to ask them a little about the much-lauded hot international news item (which in some places was even beating Anna Nicole) "Well, at least there's a new Palestinian coalition government now! That's something to be optimistic about, isn't it?"

Cue many snorts of outright derision, along with some choice phraseology to add to my ever-growing Arabic curse collection. The winning quote goes to a gentleman who was eating a sandwich: "If this "unity" lasts longer than it takes me to finish my lunch, I'll be pleasantly surprised."

I gave a half-smile in response. Because black humour aside (and there's plenty of that to get us through the days around here) I couldn't help wondering at very that moment, why am I bothering? Why on earth am I sitting here at this desk, trying to make a difference to people's lives, earning next to nothing and making myself a nervous wreck in the process, if it's all in vain, and corrupt individuals and twisted politics will continue to stamp on any grass roots I might help to plant?

On the verge of a mini-existential crisis, I found my eyes wandering around the room aimlessly. And at that moment, as if by magic, my gaze came to rest upon the bookshelf in the corner of the room, or more specifically, something which, since the day I first started working in that office and noticed it on top of the shelf, I've always thought was hideously ugly... yet suddenly it took on a whole new meaning...

(not actual clock, but extremely close. Which I guess means that more than one person in the world actually ever bought one of these. Oh dear.)

Not since I was 8 years old -and haranguing my parents to buy me a similar-themed item from the Bournemouth Aquarium- has such tasteless cheese caused me to raise such a smile: Clearly, all was not lost, and I could once again breathe easy knowing that I'm fulfilling my destiny in a roundabout, Made-in-Taiwan kind of way.

Now, whether the dolphins or the clashing local factions wish to acknowledge the veracity in my chosen professional path for the time being is up to them. For now, while my work remains tough, at least I'm safe in the knowledge that all swims along nicely.