Real Life

Since the holidays ended in late October life has reverted to normal (such as it is) and we are now absorbed in day-to-day activities, although we still find time for special excursions to places of interest.

Weather

Through late October we could still go to the beach and swim, although the temperature had moderated from the brutally hot August. The photo below is from a camping trip we took during the week of Succot, in mid-October.

Then one morning it rained, a short, intense downpour, literally the first raindrops we had seen since leaving New York almost three months earlier. After that, it was as if someone threw a switch -- suddenly we went from shorts and flip flops to jeans and sneakers.

Still, the weather is very pleasant. Over the last month about 80% of the days have been sunny and warm (T-shirts or polo shirts are fine during the day), with cooler nights and early mornings (sweatshirts). The other 20% have periods of overcast, or less commonly, rain. But even then it usually doesn't last the whole day. People still go to the beach to enjoy the sun and play in the sand. Only the most adventurous go in the water, but I imagine that even now the water temperature is similar to what you'd find at Martha's Vineyard in August.

Basketball

Ben's basketball team is very intense, both in terms of time commitment and approach to the game. There are two required practices per week and one optional fitness practice. Games are every Tuesday evening. The team travels together by bus to away games to build "chevra" (team spirit) and discuss strategy.



There are professional coaches in this league. Ben's coach, Eran, is soft spoken but very serious about basketball, running intense and creative practices that teach skills. Ben doesn't know much Hebrew so he learns mostly by watching, but Eran explains the important stuff in English.

However Ben is gradually learning basketball Hebrew. For example, the Hebrew word for jumpshot is "jumpshot." The Hebrew word for pick and roll is "pick and roll." When the other team has the ball, we chant "Defense! Haganah!". ("Haganah" means defense in Hebrew).

The practices and games have been surprisingly sportsmanlike and decorous -- surprising because in many other spheres this country is rough-and-tumble (see "Driving" below). I have not seen any inappropriate behavior whatsoever by players, coaches or parents.

Driving

The anarchy on the roads that I remember from 1979-80 has been only partially tamed. Back then, it was acceptable to pass slower moving vehicles on two-lane roads even when there was oncoming traffic. You just flashed your headlights and forced the other guy onto the shoulder to avoid a head-on collision.

Today, you can enjoy long stretches of normal driving that lull you into a false sense of security. But driving in Israel still is not for the faint of heart.

There are two problems -- the drivers and the roads. While the silent majority of drivers are decent, the crazies are much more prevalent than at home. On the highways, one sees plenty of dangerous speeding, passing and tailgaiting.

In towns, these tendencies become even more problematic because of the narrow roads and shorter distances between cars. Small rotaries are very common at intersections in the towns, and since the car in the rotary has the right of way, everyone tries to get there first. The result is often four cars hurtling toward each other in a multi-lateral game of chicken.

Also, anything goes when it comes to parking -- cars are parked anywhere and everywhere, backwards, forwards, sideways, on sidewalks, in front of driveways, without any regard to whether other cars can get past. It's as if people are so fed up with the driving that once they arrive in the general vicinity of their destination they just stop their cars and get out. This makes it hard for other cars to get by, leading to a vicious circle of frustration, impatience and more aggressive driving.

We have already been hit twice in minor fender benders.

It is taken for granted that Israel has an unusually high number of fatal accidents. However, based on some research I did today, maybe the situation is not so bad. According to today's Ha'aretz, in the first 10 months of this year there were 371 deaths from traffic accidents, an annualized rate of 445. This sounds like a lot, until I checked and found that last year Massachusetts (with a population about equal to Israel's) had 462. Then again, considering my father-in-law's driving, maybe Massachusetts has more in common with Israel than I realized.

Lice

The Hebrew word for lice is "kinim." Readers familiar with the Passover seder may recognize this word as the third of the ten plagues.

In mid-October our Israeli friend Nomi noticed Erin itching her head insistently, and we found that she had lice. We felt awful -- not being attuned to the symptoms, we wondered how long Erin had been suffering without our noticing. Also, we made this discovery on the first day of a three-day camping trip, and the whole family would be sharing a tent for the next two nights. (Fortunately no one else caught it.)

We have since learned that lice outbreaks are common in Israeli elementary schools -- the result of the warm climate, large class sizes, and a more casual attitude to the issue. Here it's just considered one of life's occasional inconveniences. If you have a girl with thick, blondish hair like Erin's, you just have to stay vigilant.

Now, it's a month later and the problem is gone. It took two special shampoos, twice a day grooming sessions with a fine-tooth comb, and two haircuts -- one a do-it-yourself butcher job by Ellen, and later a proper cut at a hair stylist. In the interim Ellen and I have become experts on the biology of the louse. Did you know that the animal itself can only survive for a day away from a host, but the eggs can last for up to 7 days? We can tell the difference between nymphal lice and adults, and have become very adept at detecting and removing them. In the process, our initial revulsion has turned into resignation and even admiration for the little buggers' survival skills. I just think of them as mosquitos that live in your hair. We'll be glad to provide free consultations to friends and neighbors upon our return to New York.

The photo shows Erin after the first haircut. Now her hair is shorter still.

Adventures in Hebrew, Continued

We have discovered Erin's secret to making friends without a common language. Whenever her classmates speak to her in Hebrew, she just smiles at them and says "ken" (yes in Hebrew). They're only five years old, what do they know -- they think she understands them. And on some level she does. She has a gift for non-verbal communication that enables her to make friends and have successful play dates.

Thomas is much more focused on actually understanding, and he knows more words than Erin. But he doesn't have Erin's social skills and is more frustrated living with Hebrew. A couple of weeks ago we asked Thomas if he wanted visitors from America to bring anything from home. He said he wanted them to bring a "regular TV that has shows in English." Erin, by contrast, can sit in front of a cartoon in Hebrew without any problem.

Erin always signs her kindergarten artwork with her name spelled in Hebrew, which she learned how to write on the first day at the "gan." Thomas always signs it in English, although on a few occasions he has written the letters of his name from right to left -- "SAMOHT." Ugh. This is going to take a while to sort out.

We're still wondering if the Hebrew switch will turn on for them at some point as it usually does for children their age, or whether the twin phenomenon will get in the way of their learning.

I'm still taking Hebrew class two mornings per week and studying outside class. I have learned a lot since we arrived, but I doubt I will reach the level I was hoping for by the end of the year. The problem is that I am not forced to use Hebrew enough in conversation. Conversing in Hebrew takes so much energy and patience that bailing out into English is too attractive an option if it is available.

Ellen is also taking a class two-mornings per week. She has made huge strides. For one thing she rarely if ever speaks Spanish anymore when trying to speak Hebrew. Also her pronunciation and vocabulary have improved significantly. However, Ben still forbids Ellen to utter a single word in Hebrew when they are together in public for fear of what might come out.

Ben lives in the bubble world of the International School, and therefore has less interaction with Hebrew than the rest of us. Nevertheless, he hears Hebrew at basketball and studies it as a second language in school. From this, he has picked up many words and phrases and is surprisingly willing to play with it.

Tali Fahima

Our closest brush with Palestinian nationalism comes via our (Jewish) cleaning woman, Sarah Fahima, whose daughter Tali is currently in jail, accused of aiding and abetting a senior member of Al Aqsa Martyrs Brigades in Jenin. Tali's case is well-known throughout Israel and many believe that the Shin Bet security service is holding her on trumped-up charges because she publicly stated she would serve as a "human shield" for this guy if Israel tried to assassinate him.

Sarah was born in Algeria and came to Israel with her family as a young girl to esape persecution after the Israeli War of Independence in 1948. Until two years ago she was an anonymous, hard-working cleaning woman. Now she is politically active. Recently Sarah spent a week in Europe, on a trip arranged by a European human rights organization, to raise funds for Tali's defense. She spoke at the French and European parliaments.

I have very interesting conversations with Sarah when we sit down together during her coffee breaks.

Here is Tali's web site: http://www.freetalifahima.org/eng.php?lang=en

Visitor Update

Our babysitter from New York, Ericka Anguiano, spent the first week of November visiting with us. It was wonderful to see her, and it also gave me and Ellen the opportunity to do some Christian sightseeing. We spent part of a day in Nazareth with Ericka and visited the Church of the Annunciation. The photo below is at an archeological site called Tel Dor on the Mediterranean coast, about 45 minutes north of Herzliya.

The Holidays

When one tries to schedule something in Israel this time of year, the response is often, "After the holidays." That basically means, "Call me in November."

First comes Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year. Last week schools and most businesses were closed for three days -- the day before (I guess you need the whole day to get ready), and then the two days of the holiday.

(Why do many Jewish holidays last two days? It has to do with the difficulty in biblical times of informing everybody exactly which day was the official New Moon. At least that's the explanation given here: http://www.jewfaq.org/holiday0.htm#Extra)

Then, there is the period between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur -- the "Days of Awe," a time of introspection when, according to tradition, God inscribes the Book of Life for the coming year. Technically there are a few regular business days in there, but who can concentrate?

For Yom Kippur, there are another two days off -- the day before and the day of. Five days later comes Succot -- two more days off. Then five days later Simchat Torah. Another two days off.

This year all these holidays fall on weekdays, so we also have Shabbat every week.

So in October it's hard to build momentum for productive activities. (Not that we engage in any, but other people do.) You string together a couple of regular days, and wham! another holiday. We've met a few families who skip the month altogether and travel abroad.

Party at the Gan (Kindergarten)

The holiday season got off to a festive start at Erin and Thomas's kindergarten, which held a party for kids and parents on the Friday before Rosh HaShanah. The kids performed a couple of songs, which were even more unintelligible than the usual kindergarten fare (at least for me and Ellen) because there were 34 five-year-olds singing in Hebrew. Erin really got into it, putting on a big smile, singing the song and doing the choreography with gusto. Thomas, less so.

What was more unusual about this party was that a group of parents put on a short play for the kids. I was recruited by our neighbor Lynn to join the cast. At the organizational meeting I disovered they needed someone to play a princess, someone who could really make the kids laugh -- maybe someone with facial hair who speaks Hebrew with a funny accent, someone transient in the neighborhood with little to lose by making a fool of himself....

















Rosh HaShanah at Kibbutz Urim

A few days later we left to spend the Rosh HaShanah holiday at Kibbutz Urim, where I lived for a year before college. Urim is near Be'ersheva, about an hour and forty-five minutes drive from where we live. This area is considered "the south" of the country, although Eilat, the southernmost point of Israel, is still a few hours' drive further down.

I found the following link which not only has a good overview of the history of kibbutzim in general, but also an aerial photo of Urim: http://www.communa.org.il/kibbutz.htm

We were guests of my "kibbutz family" Marc and D'vorah Marcus, and D'vorah's parents Carmi and Aaron Pollack. It is a tradition on many kibbutzim that newcomers are assigned a family to help integrate them into kibbutz life. When I arrived in September 1979 I was lucky to have been "adopted" by Marc and D'vorah, and by extension, the entire Pollack family. We have kept in touch over the years and have seen each other periodically during trips in Israel and New York.

Carmi (originally from Milwaukee) and Aaron (originally from Toronto) were among the early members of Urim, arriving in the early 1950s, and they raised their four children there. D'vorah is the eldest. She married Marc, who first came to Urim as a volunteer in 1970s, and they had their first child shortly before they "adopted" me in 1979. Today they have three grown children, the youngest in his first year of the army. My friend Nomi, whom we've previously written about on this blog, is D'vorah's younger sister. Nomi no longer lives at Urim but she joined us there for Rosh HaShanah with her three children Inbar, Adi and Liron. (Nomi's husband Dani was doing army reserve service and couldn't join us). We all stayed in an apartment on the kibbutz that Marc and D'vorah had set up for our visit.

The observance of Jewish holidays on kibbutzim is generally secular, emphasizing the holidays' historical and cultural aspects -- similar to the way Americans celebrate Thanksgiving. At dinner there was a short ceremony -- someone lit candles and recited the traditional bracha (prayer), and then one of the kibbutz officials presented awards for achievements during the preceding year. After dinner there was a karaoke party outside the dining hall.

Field of Dreams


D'vorah and Marc had planned a great schedule for the following day. Agriculture is still one of Urim's main activities -- I don't remember how many acres it cultivates, but it's a lot -- and D'vorah is the head of the corn crop. After breakfast D'vorah drove us out to Urim's corn fields by tractor and we picked corn for a barbecue later that day.

On the way back we took a brief tour of the work areas of the kibbutz, which grows potatoes, corn, wheat and many other crops. It also operates a cow barn with 250 cows, a textile factory, a chicken farm, a gas station, a grocery store and a pub.

Afterwards we enjoyed a great barbecue lunch at D'vorah and Marc's house, and Marc and Ben began planning for the next day's kite flying competition, an annual Rosh HaShanah tradition at Urim. They picked a design, built it from bamboo, string, glue and paper, and the Ben decorated it. Whatever they did worked well, because their kite won first prize at the competition the next day! The photo shows Ben and Marc, with Ben holding the winning kite. In spite of a heroic effort Marc was unable to get the other kite off the ground.

Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur in Israel is amazing. As sundown approaches the country completely shuts down in a way that is hard to believe unless you see it for yourself. There are NO cars driving on the streets anywhere. Even the major highways are completely empty. The silence is startling, and makes you realize how much ambient noise there is on any other day.

The photograph below was taken on Yom Kippur afternoon from an overpass over one of the busiest highways in Israel, the main coastal Highway 2 as it passes by our town. Imagine I-95 in Connecticut -- that's what this stretch of road usually looks like.

The streets are full of children on bicycles, skateboards and rollerblades. The novelty of riding in the streets without having to worry about cars is irresistible.

Even many secular Jews attend synagogue on this day, although it's much less formal than in the US. In Israel there are many small (usually Orthodox) synagogues sprinkled throughout most towns and neighborhoods, and on the High Holidays it's perfectly acceptable for worshippers, Orthodox or not, to just wander in and out. Of course there's no guarantee of a seat.

("Belonging" to a synagogue is uncommon among non-Orthodox. The whole Orthodox / non-Orthodox schism here is a fascinating, and troubling, topic that deserves its own post.)

We heard Kol Nidre, the opening prayer on Erev Yom Kippur, at a small synagogue that we visited with some new friends in Herzliya Pituach. There were all kinds of people there -- young, old, dressed-up, dressed-down, some wearing talitim (prayer shawls), some not. The service was very intimate, with a father-son cantor team singing the traditional Ashkenazi melodies. But because it was an Orthodox synagogue Ellen had to sit upstairs, separate from the men. So we didn't last too long there.

The following evening, as Yom Kippur drew to a close, we walked over to another synagogue right around the corner from our house. Many people began arriving and lingering in the yard outside. From the way they were dressed I could see they never intended to actually enter the synagogue; they were just drawn to be nearby. We lingered with them, moving closer to the doors as we heard the service nearing the end. Suddenly the shofar sounded -- the Book of Life was sealed. Then, to my surprise, the congregation broke into "HaTikvah," the Israeli national anthem -- a startling juxtaposition of religious and national symbols, a real Israel moment.

The Ben Levy Framework for Peace in the Middle East

"We will not abandon the path of Jihad and martyrdom as long as one inch of our land remains in the hands of the Jews."

So said Raed Sa'ed, a senior Hamas leader, this week at a rally in Gaza City.

Palestinian militancy is much more widely reported here in Israel than in the US. On the day of the final Israeli withdrawal from Gaza, I compared the press coverage between Haaretz and the International Herald Tribune, which is published by the New York Times. The Tribune story spoke generally about the challenge of maintaining order in Gaza, and while it stated that former synagogues in the Jewish settlements had been destroyed it did not go into details.

In Haaretz, by contrast, the entire top half of the front page was a photograph of mob chaos inside the sanctuary of a former synagogue, with dozens of Palestinians smashing and burning. The accompanying story vividly described the fury of the masses that descended upon the Jewish settlements as soon as the last Israeli soldier had left. And this was in the left wing newspaper. The violence was described in even more apocalyptic terms by the conservative Jerusalem Post.

The Jerusalem Post regularly reports on attempted suicide bombings that are foiled by Israeli security forces, the implication being that the decline in terrorist attacks over the last year is the result of the security fence working, not the cease fire with the Palestinians.

No, there are no illusions here about the Palestinians becoming "peace partners" any time soon. Even staunch left wingers, though they may largely blame Israeli mistakes for the status quo, concede that from where we are today the idealistic vision of two states peacefully coexisting is a long way off.

Why, then, do Israeli Jews seem to be LESS hard line than American Jews on the Palestinian issue? And why are my own views moving to the center (gasp) since coming here?

Here's my theory:

From 5,000 miles away in America the existence of Israel seems more tenuous than it does when you wake up here every morning, take your kids to school and afterwards maybe basketball or gymnastics, or go to the mall and get stuck in traffic. Of course I knew before our trip that the perception of Israel as the site of a continual life-or-death struggle was not accurate. But living here for the last two months has underscored how much of a "done deal" Israel feels like now, much more so than when I first lived here 25 years ago.

Maybe for this reason, things like Hamas's charter calling for the outright destruction of Israel seemed like more of an affront when we were in America than they do now that we're living in Herzliya. Here -- on this side of the security fence and protected by a powerful and technologically advanced army, with peace agreements in place with Egypt and Jordan and most Palestinians living in squalor in poor villages and refugee camps -- it just seems like words.

A few weeks ago I was explaining the Gaza evacuation to Ben in the context of the Israeli-Arab conflict and the current situation with the Palestinians. After listening and asking some good questions about the relative military capabilities of the Israelis and Palestinians, he asked, "If we're so much stronger than they are, why can't we just give back the West Bank and not worry about it?"

That's exactly the debate raging in Israel right now.

The Gaza withdrawal last month will serve as a test case to evaluate an evolving centrist position here that advocates unilaterally withdrawing from most of the West Bank -- to set borders protected by a security fence -- regardless of what the Palestinians are doing or saying. The precise borders would no doubt be hotly contested, but in any reasonable scenario would resemble the pre-1967 lines, with carve-outs for the largest Jewish settlements that have been established since then. Then we wait for the Anwar Sadat of the Palestinians to emerge and make peace.

The Camp David plan offered by Israel in 2000 would have returned 95% of the West Bank, and East Jerusalem, to the Palestinians in exchange for declaring the "end of conflict." Arafat rejected the deal and started the Intifada. So why should Israel give the Palestinians the same result five years later without getting anything in return, even an acknowledgement of its right to exist?

Because, the argument goes, the military risk of withdrawing is manageable, and is more than offset by the benefits of ending the occupation, which drains Israel economically and psychologically. (Some might add that Israel also would gain politically, but I am cynical on this point and doubt that Israel can ever win in the court of world opinion.)

The wisdom of this strategy rests on the following military question: what is the worst-case damage that could be inflicted on Israel from behind the security fence by a radical Palestinian entity, populated by people who think like Raed Sa'ed (see quote above) and unfettered by an Israeli military presence in its midst?

It seems unlikely that the Palestinians, acting alone, could strike a serious military blow against Israel, let alone a mortal one, with the safeguards that Israel would doubtless leave in place after a withdrawal from the West Bank. Of course, rockets and missiles fired into Israel from Palestinian-controlled areas could cause damage and loss of life. But these are not existential risks, and I imagine Israel would retaliate even more fiercely after withdrawing to pre-1967 borders, or something close to them. In any event, I suppose that in the worst case scenario Israel could reoccupy Palestinian lands if attacks became a significant and enduring problem.

I know nothing about military matters, so I am trying to get different opinions from knowledgeable people. Based on what I know now, the Ben Levy Plan makes sense. I believe a majority of Israelis think so too.

Travel update

Last Saturday we spent a long, fun day with our cousins Abby and Bruce in the Dead Sea area. The group photo is from the top of Masada looking out over the sea. On the way back, we dropped off Abby and Bruce in Jerusalem and arrived just as the sun was setting, so we stopped on Mount Scopus to take in the amazing view. On the photos from there (click to enlarge) you can see the beautiful Dome of the Rock, where Mohammed ascended to the heavens, in the background. This is considered the third holiest site for Muslims, behind Mecca and Medina.

Our First Big Tiyul

A "tiyul" is a hike, anything from a short stroll in the woods to a multi-day camping trip. One of our goals during our time in Israel is to do as many tiyulim as possible throughout this beautiful country. We got off to a.... um, memorable start last weekend.

When I was here in 1979-80 the typical Israeli was much more knowledgeable about his/her country's geography, ecology and natural history than the typical American. After all, back then Israel was only about 30 years old and many Israelis had been personally involved in establishing and building the country.

It seems that the outdoorsy quotient has dwindled among the younger generations, who are more interested in modern things like shopping. Luckily, our good friends Dani and Nomi DiCastro are "old school." They possess an unusually broad knowledge and appreciation of their beautiful and fascinating country, and are wonderful and eager guides for the Levys.

Dani is kind of like Crocodile Dundee trapped inside the body of a middle age Jewish guy. He loves the outdoors and seems to know every road, hill and canyon in Israel.

Perhaps it was this total familiarity with the terrain that caused him to underestimate the level of difficulty of his first "tiyul" recommendation.

We agreed that our families would meet on Saturday morning near the start of the hike. It was funny how Dani described the meeting place. He couldn't remember the names or numbers of the highways. He just said, "Let's meet at 9:30 at the junction just northeast of the Kinneret." Like we're meeting outside the corner drug store. "Kinneret" is the Hebrew name for the Sea of Galilee, a gorgeous lake 200 meters below sea level and surrounded by spectacular cliffs, where Jesus walked on water. These days you can waterski.

We apparently found the right spot on the map, because we met right on schedule and drove off to the starting point for the hike. Soon we arrived in a parking area and, after loading a few backpacks with water and snacks, we got underway at about 10am. We were going to hike in Nahal Yehudiya, in the Golan Heights. "Nahal" means canyon or gorge. The Golan is a stunningly beautiful area filled with mountains, canyons, streams and waterfalls. Before 1967 Syria used to fire rockets from Golan down on Israeli farms and towns in the Galilee valley below. Israel took Golan from Syria in the Six Day War. Today, it is a very popular area for hiking and camping.

We started walking along the edge of the canyon and could hear water below, although couldn't see to the bottom. After just a few hundred meters Erin started wilting in the heat and whining. Uh oh, not a good start. I carried her for a short distance and then poured cool water over her head, which revived her and even elicited some giggles.

Then the path started descending into the canyon. The descent was tricky in a few spots but nothing too tough. Everyone did great. I would estimate that the vertical drop to the canyon floor was about 400-500 feet.


Suddenly, we arrived at a clearing with waterfall and large natural fresh water pool. We all jumped in to cool off. Ben and the DiCastro kids (ages 12, 9 and 8) swam over to the falls and jumped off rocks along the edge of the pool. We lingered there for about a half hour, and then started down the trail that runs along the canyon floor.

Except it wasn't really a trail. The canyon floor consisted of flowing water, rocks and boulders, and occasionally dense brush, with steep cliffs on both sides. Occasionally there would be a marker to suggest the easiest way through this mess, but it wasn't very easy. Some of the boulders were bigger than the twins, and we had to lift them over. Also, we had to wind back and forth through the stream so the rocks were wet and slippery. We had all worn Tevas; the sandals slipped on the rocks and our feet slipped in the sandals. Ben excitedly ran ahead with the DiCastro kids, but Ellen and I kept Erin and Thomas very close, often holding their hands to steady them at tough spots. We were very nervous that they would fall and get hurt, especially after the experience of our Edgemont friends, the Kleins. On the first day of the Kleins' recent trip to Israel, their son Terren had fallen at the top of Masada and cut his head. They spent their first full day in Israel in a hospital getting his head stitched up.

After about an hour of tense hiking like this, we reached a spot where some hikers ahead were bunched up, and we heard falling water. As I approached this spot it dawned on me that I had been here before, 25 years ago. Only then did I realize what Dani had meant by "a place where you climb down a ladder."

At this spot, the canyon becomes a sheer cliff for 25 feet, and the only way down is a metal ladder hammered into the rock a few feet from the cascading water. The bottom of the ladder disappears directly into a deep pool. Then you have to swim across the pool, a distance of about 30 feet. Ellen's eyes practically rolled back in her head as she realized that we were going to have to get our 5-year old twins down this cliff and across the pool.

As we neared the front of the line to start the descent the other hikers, all of whom (we realized later) seemed to be in their 20s, looked dubiously at our motley crew of children and 40-somethings. But then Dani pulled "floaties" from his pack and we put them on the twins' arms. Then he produced a little blow-up raft and we threw that over the falls -- we would use that to ferry our packs across the pool. When I reached the ladder I turned around to face the cliff, carefully placed Erin on the ladder in front of me, and down we went together. I kept one arm on the ladder and one arm wrapped around Erin's waist, but she climbed down herself. If she was scared, she didn't say so -- down she went without any hesitation. At the bottom of the ladder, we jumped together into the water with the falls crashing loudly beside us, and then swam together across the pool. Thomas went down with Dani the same way. And then the rest of the group followed. Ben and the DiCastro's 12 year old boy had fun ferrying bags across the pool in the raft.

We were too busy concentrating on survival to take photos as we were descending the ladder, but the photo below shows the view of this spot from a little further down the canyon. If you click on the picture, you can see the ladder and some hikers on it.



Just a few yards ahead there was a similar climb down a rock face into water -- shorter but even more challenging because the "ladder" consisted of some individual foot holds hammered into the rock at tricky angles, and too far apart for the twins to use without assistance. On this one, I went down with Thomas, who thought it was really fun.

After sitting a while to regain our composure we continued for another hour on the trail of boulders and water. Just when Ellen and I we were feeling that we really had had enough, we reached the spot where the trail climbs back out of the canyon. After one last dip in the cool water, we started our ascent, singing songs to keep our minds off the hot sun and exertion. Not once did any of the kids complain or asked to be carried. Actually we all were relieved to be walking on dry dirt and stones.

We arrived back at our cars at about 4pm, six hours after we started. While Ellen and I were giddy with relief from the tension, the twins seemed oblivious to the fact that we had done anything unusual. Ben, however, was on cloud nine and thought it was by far the coolest thing we had done so far Israel.

After a late afternoon picnic we took the scenic route back to a kibbutz guest house where we were staying. Ben seemed much more nervous about driving on the steep, curvy moutain road that descended from the Golan Heights than he had been at any point on the hike.

Other news briefs


Ben's school is challenging, but he likes it and is doing well. He has all the usual subjects (reading, math, science and social studies) plus Hebrew as a second language, PE and music (playing a band instrument is required -- he chose trumpet!). Basketball season has started, with two practices a week. Games against other schools, presumably Israeli, start soon.

The bigger school news is that we changed course with the twins and put them in an Israeli kindergarten -- that's right, it's in Hebrew. Our reasons for doing this were complex -- more in a later post. In the meantime, we can tell you that, after a week, they are doing great. The school is literally 100 yards from our house and the twins are together in a class. It is a two room schoolhouse just for 5-year olds, with a small yard and playground. The head "ganenet" (kindergarten teacher) is terrific, and speaks English, as do a few of the other kids. We have been told by many people that Israeli kindergartens are lovely, and our own observations support this. It will be fascinating to hear as they start to speak Hebrew.


We had a wonderful time recently seeing friends from home who visited with us during trips to Israel -- the Price family from Chappaqua, and the Klein and Melamed familes from Edgemont. Next week we are looking forward to spending a day down in the Dead Sea area with Ellen's cousin Abby and her husband Bruce who will be in Israel for a delayed honeymoon.

We are sadly following the tragic news in New Orleans. It feels weird to be so far away during our country's worst natural disaster ever.

Coping With Ivrit (Hebrew)

“Doesn’t everyone speak English in Israel?” We heard this a lot when speaking with friends about our trip.

Yes and no. Many Israelis, especially those in business and technology, and of course those in the service and tourism industries, speak English comfortably. Others can speak a sort of pidgin English if they have to, but they prefer not to (who can blame them). And others just don’t speak any English.

Thus, coping in Hebrew has provided some frustrating, and comical, moments in our first two weeks here.

It is not a level playing field for Ellen and me. I lived in Israel for almost one year between high school and college and learned a decent amount of Hebrew then, although I was far from fluent. I forgot a lot over the years, but did some self study in the months leading up to our trip. Ellen, by contrast, knows almost no Hebrew. She took some beginner classes last year at the Scarsdale Y, but that’s about it.

My problem is that I can usually make myself understood when I start a conversation, but then it often escalates out of control when the other party starts speaking way too fast with too many words I don’t know. Then I have to either retreat to English or tell the person I have no idea what he or she just said.

Today I had to buy a couple of those insulated lunch boxes for the kids. I went to the Home Center store. I know how to say “lunch” and “box”, but I was pretty sure that those two words together in Hebrew would mean nothing. And I have no idea how to say “insulated.” So I approached a sales clerk and said a sentence in Hebrew that translates roughly to the following:

“I am looking for a small bag for children for lunch for school and the food is cold inside.” She looked at me like I was an idiot but directed me to the right place. These encounters can be humiliating.

But I can hardly complain about humiliation because Ellen is having a rougher time. She has to start practically every interaction with an Israeli – on the street, in a store, wherever – by trying to communicate that she speaks English, not Hebrew. Except that it often comes out sounding vaguely Spanish. You see, Ellen speaks some Spanish, and apparently her brain has one memory register for foreign languages because what little Hebrew she knows is being spiced up with Spanish words here and there. Often the other person knows English, and the conversation then proceeds smoothly. But if the other person does not speak English, then Ellen is reduced to gesticulation to make herself understood. Today Ellen was in a store trying to buy shoe laces. When she pointed to her feet, everyone thought she wanted to buy shoes. So she started crawling around looking for shoelaces to point to, but everyone was wearing sandals. I must say, Ellen is being a very good sport about the language issue.

Other news:

School starts tomorrow. The twins will be in separate classes – whoa!

We had our first sushi in Israel last night. It will be our last sushi in Israel.

We’re looking forward to our first visitors from the US next week.

Ironically, we are less on top of the Gaza news than we would be from home, partly because we were so busy this week getting ready for school and partly because of the lack of good English news. What we can tell you is that even those who strongly support the “Hitnatkut” (evacuation) are extremely anguished about people being forcibly removed from their homes.

First Days

Great Timing on that Shoulder Operation

Last Wednesday we arrived at Newark Airport with 16 bags in two heavily laden SUVs. We checked 11 bags weighing about 450 pounds, including eight enormous army duffels, and carried on five more pieces. The skycap seemed unfazed, as did the clerk at the check-in counter. Apparently families schlepping their lives back and forth to Israel is not uncommon. The flight left right on time. We were all glad to be finished with the goodbyes.

At the other end the only tense moments occurred while transporting this massive load, plus our half asleep kids, from the baggage carousel through customs. It took three incredibly overloaded baggage carts, with Ben somehow pushing one, but we did it. A van met us on the other end, and a short time later we were at our new house.

Overall, the trip went much more smoothly than expected.

Without the Chlorine

The Mediterranean Sea in August is as warm as a heated pool in Scarsdale. It’s spectacular to look at and swim in, although unexpectedly rough. Our neighborhood in Herzliya is called Nof Yam, which means “Sea View.” We’ve spent two of our four afternoons so far at the Nof Yam beach, about a half mile from our house. On Friday night we watched the sun set into the water.

At the beach we see some Muslim families. The men and young children wear ordinary bathing suits. But the adolescent girls and women wear complete body covering, as they would on the street – and they go all the way into the water like this!

Really Looking Forward To…

Our first laundry. The washing machine is currently not operational. And after it is fixed, scheduled for Wednesday, we are not sure how we will use it since the operating panel is in German. Anybody know what “Schleudern" means?

“Honey, is this chicken?”

During the day, when not sleeping, we have focused on stocking up the house with food and other supplies. Ellen has done most of the grocery shopping, which is a challenge since she can’t read most of the labels. Mostly the packages have contained what she expected. In the grocery store there are fewer American brands than expected. One of the few Levy staples that has made an appearance in Israel is Cheerios.

We also did an excursion to Ace Hardware, as well as a store whose name is “Home Center” spelled out in Hebrew letters. We are now the proud owners of new bath mats, garbage pails, pillows, brooms, mops and similar items. I wonder if our newly acquired Ace Hardware discount card (6% off on all purchases) will work back home.

The business of life will start this week – opening a bank account, getting cable TV and internet installed, interviews for the kids at school, which starts on August 18. But before then we are planning an overnight trip to Jerusalem with our friends Nomi and Dani DiCastro, who live near Haifa. I met Nomi when I spent a year in Israel before college. Nomi met Dani in the army. His real name is Claudio -- his family is of Italian descent -- but since he’s Israeli, what the hell, he calls himself Dani. They have three kids, ages 12, 8 and 7.

In the News

Benjamin Netanyahu resigned today from the Israeli Cabinet to protest the Gaza Disengagement plan, which was then approved by the Cabinet to take place next Sunday, August 15. On the roads of Israel citizens display their opinions on the plan with banners on their car antennas – blue means pro-Disengagement, orange means against. Polls show that 75% of the Israeli public supports the Gaza Disengagement but there are more orange banners than blue banners on the cars.