"Thursday is Friday”

The weekend is descending upon us.

After my Sargent-drill at the gym on Thursday morning, I had a great lunch with Y. at a trendy restaurant nearby called The Diner at Goocha. I had ceviche and grilled fish and salad; Y. had a large salad as appetizer and a side salad (same size as his appetizer) with the main dish. They love salads here! 

The Diner at Goocha

From there I got picked up by M. to meet with an Israeli company doing business worldwide, including Canada, located on Ramat HaHayal (an industrial Hi-Tech area at the north-eastern part of Tel Aviv. Called originally Shikun Shanghai, was established in 1949 to absorb members of the Jewish community in Shanghai, China, who left during the final stages of the Chinese civil war).

On the ride there and back, I had a chance to grill M. (a professor at Tel Aviv University School of Management and an international marketing consultant) a bit more on the many questions free-floating in my head.

Does the “Israel brand” help or hurt Israeli high tech companies doing business internationally?

M. thinks that in general it helps but it would be better if the Israeli high tech story itself was better known. Israel has a great reputation for technology among those in the know, but there aren't enough "in the know" around the world. He and his clients have done business in countries such as Turkey and Morocco where you would certainly expect that the Israel brand would hurt sales, but that hasn't been the case at all for him. Educated elites in those countries (if it wasn't for my poor hearing, I would swear he also included Saudi Arabia in this) know better than to get embroiled in the rhetoric, and can and do make sound business decisions. In England he has encountered a snag, but he thinks it has to do more with the British wanting to buy local first, and significantly less with public sentiments of antipathy towards Israel. In some countries, they are asked to "neuter" the Israeli brand once they make a software application sale and yet in others it becomes a source of reassurance that the software quality is sound. He thinks often Israeli businesses handicap themselves by thinking the "brand" will hurt.

Why hasn't the Israeli high tech story become better known?

M. believes the government has done a terrible job of promoting Israel to business decision-makers around the world. He asked me if I have heard about the book "Start-up Nation" (well, Yes...). M. believes that while the book tends to idealize certain aspects of the Israeli high tech industry, it is not a bad description of what is in fact going on. But what's more important to him is that the book has single-handedly placed Israel on the perceptual map of businesses worldwide. Each time Bibi speaks abroad on behalf of local industry, M. thinks he is discounted because he is a politician. The book, on the other hand, tells the story on the ground and with the right language aimed at the right audience. But much more needs to be done.

Why has the government missed out on doing more?

Why does government miss out on things. Well, M. believes that since 1976, the overall political agenda has been hijacked by the Settlers. Without passing judgement on the Settlers' goals, which as best as I could tell he disagrees with (but I didn't want to take the conversation somewhere else; it was a short car ride after all) the result has been that the complete Israel narrative is about the Settlements and the Palestinians, and not about anything else. The government has not spent enough on many other crucial areas of the economy such as education and infrastructure, not to mention branding Israel around the world for its positive contribution to business and technology.

Too bad the drive wasn't longer.

Towards the end of the business meeting, it was decided we needed to schedule a follow up meeting. Since Passover is coming next week, as I was looking at my calendar I asked which Passover days people work here and which days they don’t. I received many blank looks. So I explained (because I have learned that the average Israeli doesn't know this) that in the Diaspora, Jews celebrate the first day of major holidays two days in a row and that within Passover some days are work days and some are not. More blank looks. To move past this stalemate, I suggested we just skip the week of Passover altogether and meet again after.

As we were leaving the meeting, I was confused. They were wishing each other a ‘Shabbat Shalom’ (in the most secular possible sort of way). But, wait, I thought. It is only Thursday. Then I realized that, since "Sunday is Monday" here, it stands to reason that "Thursday is Friday" also, and so they were wishing each other a regular "Have a nice weekend." On Thursday.

In the evening, I went to the Ballet at the Suzanne Dellal Centre in Neve Tzedeck with Emanuela. Growing up, Emanuela was a ballet dancer, so I told her I was relying on her to explain the ballet to me, a total neophyte.

Explain?! What's there to explain? she said. You just have to FEEL!

Got it.

The Suzanne Dellal Centre for Dance and Theatre is Israel’s home for dance and the premier presenter of Israeli and international contemporary dance companies…. And I just learned it is the most visited tourist sight in Tel-Aviv (with over half a million visitors per year) and hosts over 750 cultural events and performances annually. We saw two modern ballet performances by two companies, and it was breathtaking. I truly felt it.

Suzanne Dellal Centre, filling up

The Suzanne Dellal Centre lit up

Before the ballet, we stopped at JaJas Wine Bar, a very cool spot in Neve Tzedeck to enjoy a glass or two. Just last Monday I found out it belongs to Idan's brother. Unfortunately he wasn't there so we didn't score a free drink...

On Friday, today, M. had invited me to speak to his two MBA classes at Tel Aviv University. 

Tel Aviv U. School of Management

Tel Aviv University (TAU) is about 7 km from my apartment, and just last night I realized two important things:  The Tel Aviv Marathon was happening Friday early morning, just a block from my apartment, and Israel was moving to daylight savings time also overnight Thursday to Friday.

(This one seems particularly weird: if "Thursday is Friday,” should the clocks not be moved on Friday night rather than Thursday night? I guess Shabbat makes that a no-no).

As a result, I spent a rather restless night thinking of all the possible reasons which could make me be late for the lectures this morning. So I got up extra early and cabbed it to TAU, arriving a full hour and 15 minutes ahead of time(!). Unfortunately, I can now report that the worst coffee I have had so far in all of Israel can be found at The Leon Recanati Graduate School of Business Administration’s lobby café.

The two lectures went well, although one of the classes was quite feisty. I do enjoy a good verbal sparring, so in the end we were all good (and M. seemed pleased). The average age of the students was early 30s, mostly male, and 50% of them are Engineers. When I asked for a show of hands, all but 3 students in both classes of about 50 each reported having a Facebook account. However, and this was most surprising to me, only a handful in both classes used Twitter (I just looked this up and Israel doesn’t rank in the top-10 countries for Twitter penetration; on the other hand, 26% of the Netherlands population has a Twitter account and Canada “only” ranks 6th at 18%). This lead us to an interesting discussion on the value of Twitter for marketers.

Once I was done, around noon, I decided it was such a lovely day that I would walk back to Tel Aviv. It is sunny and warm, in a Vancouver sort of way, and this being Friday afternoon, the city is quieting down (in a Tel Aviv sort of way).

However, I also know -- because I can’t break the habit of reading the Jerusalem Post and now the (much better and less cluttered) Times of Israel online newspapers – that bad things are happening elsewhere today, outside the Tel Aviv bubble.

A massive "Global March to Jerusalem” had been planned for today, with Iran as the lead. The goal of the march is "freedom for Palestine and its capital Jerusalem.” Event supporters include Desmond Tutu, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright (yes, Obama’s “crazy uncle” – crazy indeed) and the extremist anti-Zionist Neturei Karta sect (crazy, crazy ultra-Orthodox handful of Jews). Fine bedfellows.  The organizers have sought to have one million people march in solidarity along the borders of Israel.

Just the highlights:

Clashes have broken out in East Jerusalem; Bethlehem; and several West Bank towns. There are several Palestinians injured at Kalandiya, (a Palestinian village located in the West Bank, between Jerusalem and Ramallah, and a checkpoint with Israel), where Palestinian protesters have assembled. Protestors hurled Molotov cocktails at IDF troops. At least 14 Palestinians were hurt by IDF fire in Gaza after attempting to breach the border fence and infiltrate Israel. Among the injured was Palestinian lawmaker Mustafa Bargouti (True or not, reports say he was hit in the head by a tear gas canister, in a brawl that broke out among the Palestinians over who would lead the protest march).

The Israeli army and police not surprisingly have raised their level of alert. Fourteen people have been arrested in Jerusalem. Overall, apparently not One Million but just over 20,000 people have taken part in this protests near Israel’s borders.

A few odd facts (to me, anyway):

The Lebanese forces got involved and prevented protesters from reaching the Israeli border.  According to reports, participants had been yelling "where is the Arab League on Jerusalem?"  Several rally participants expressed anger over the presence of Neturei Karta members, and a verbal altercation erupted between the two groups (oh so sweet). Hamas security forces attempted to force protestors away from the border fence, using clubs to beat up the rioters.

OK, enough about that. Where was I?

Oh yes. I am off to have Friday night dinner at my cousin Bella's home where I will meet her family. It is such a lovely day. It is sunny and warm, in a Vancouver sort of way, and this being Friday afternoon, the city is quieting down (in a Tel Aviv sort of way). Shabbat shalom.

 

Trying to figure things out in Ashkelon

A relaxing couple of days. Trying to digest the mounting info overload.
 

On Tuesday I met Dara, the daughter of my friends Corinne and Jon in Vancouver, as she took a short break from her high school class trip to Israel. We met at the entrance to the Carmel market to go for lunch, and looked for a place to sit and eat (lots of places to buy prepared foods; almost no places to sit and eat, and tons of people to bump you). Eventually I turned into a side alley, thinking that perhaps I'd find a small restaurant. Instead, we found ourselves in the butchers’ side of the market, where one butcher shop after another displayed their wares down small alleyways. This would have been fine except that Dara informed me she was a vegetarian (mercifully, she was a great sport about it!). Eventually we found a falafel place; sadly it wasn’t too good so I owe Dara one.

Dara and I had a few chuckles comparing impressions about Israel and Israelis. We both agreed it is way greener than we had imagined it would be, and we also agreed that when people here bump you on the street, they don’t apologize – and look very startled when you do (“I am sorry; I am Canadian”).

With Dara at the Carmel Market

From the market I went to a short meeting with Y. close to Jaffa and then spent the rest of the afternoon walking down the Tayelet, the seaside promenade that extends from way south (south of Jaffa, anyway) to way north of Tel Aviv (or is it to Netanya?). About 57% of Israel's population lives in the coastal plain, and each town either has or is building its own Tayelet. Soon it seems one will be able to walk all the way from the Lebanese border to Gaza! 

It was a sunny and fairly warm day, and I enjoyed just watching beach-goers play Matkot  over miles.  Matkot   is the “cult” beach sport here (and probably nowhere else). It is beach tennis with no rules except keeping the ball "live" (i.e., not dropping it on the sand). Two players use a wooden racket to hit a small rubber ball. The distance between them, as well as the aggressiveness of the hit, varies depending on the players’ stamina (you see all ages playing).  They love the game and, as long as it isn’t raining, I have seen people play. Tap, tap, tap, tap....

Matkot players

On Wednesday, today, I went to visit Rita Rosenbaum-Geier in Ashkelon, located about an hour south of Tel Aviv by train (50 km), and about 15 minutes’ drive north of the Gaza border (12 km).

Ashkelon is an industrial town of approximately 120,000 people, right on the Mediterranean. Originally settled by Jewish immigrants from Arab countries, in the 1980s it saw a tremendous influx of new residents from the former Soviet Union. Today, Russian is a standard language on many public signs (which are overcrowded as it is, since all street signs here are in Hebrew, Arabic and English). The city is bright and feels very young and new to me.

Today, the weather was sunny and crisp, the sky was blue with white puffy clouds, the ocean was emerald green, the green meadows were covered with yellow flowers and red kalaniot (anemones) flowers. And there wasn't a bomb shelter in sight.

Kalaniot are a protected species

Ashkelon is the northern terminus for the Trans-Israel pipeline, which brings petroleum products from Eilat to an oil terminal at the port.  In other words, it is the same fuel that Israel sometimes sells to Gaza to help them on humanitarian grounds. Yes, to the same people who shell Ashkelon with deadly rockets.

Right this moment, for example, there is a dispute over fuel supplies between Egypt and Hamas. This has triggered shortages of fuel and electricity in the Gaza Strip, causing massive power outages. Life in Gaza sucks because they only have electricity for 6 hours a day and precious little gasoline or cooking gas.

Why? Because of a political standoff with Egypt, which supplies Gaza's fuel.

Hamas controls Gaza and wants the fuel to come directly from Egypt instead of through a cargo crossing with Israel. Egypt refuses to allow the fuel to pass because it wants Israel to continue to be seen as responsible for Gaza's problems. Israel of course views Hamas as a terrorist group (see references to deadly shelling above…). And Hamas of course blames the crisis on the Israeli government.

So what does Israel do?

On March 23, Israel allowed nine fuel tankers to cross over to Gaza, with enough industrial diesel to only power a plant for one day. More deliveries are being negotiated. The shelling only ended a few days before as Israel is the "entity" Palestinians refuse to acknowledge exists. In other words, Gazans are going with severe energy shortages and blame Israel.

(Anyone out there who can explain this to me? Any of this?)

Our first stop in Ashkelon was a cafe on the Ashkelon marina, where we enjoyed a "cafe afuch" (cappuccino) by the sea.

Ashkelon marina

It was such an idyllic place, overlooking miles of white sandy beaches, with mothers strolling about with babies in carriages and smart-looking ladies doing lunch. This definitely wasn't what I expected to see, on any level. This isn't Tel Aviv, after all. These people here aren't supposed to be in denial like Tel Avivians.

But Israelis trust the Army, if not their Government, to do the job and keep them safe.

Hasn't it always done so, starting in 1948? Isn't that the essential promise of the state of Israel?

So the army has come through for them with the Iron Dome - which in Hebrew is called "the Iron Kippah"!

The Iron Dome is a mobile air defense system designed to intercept and destroy short-range rockets and artillery shells fired from distances of 4 to 70 kilometers away whose trajectory would take them to a populated area, in all weather conditions (i.e., the stuff of Star Wars).

My friend Rita has first-hand knowledge of the Iron Dome. As the Israeli that she is, she remembers being more than a bit skeptical when Israeli officials announced they would be deploying the Iron Dome to protect civilians from the constant shelling coming from Gaza, thinking, "What is this? Star Wars?! It is just politicians trying to reassure us."

However, shortly after, she was outdoors enjoying her beautiful garden in peace and quiet when she heard a very loud noise, like a jet plane flying right over her head. Rita looked up and saw what seemed to her to be a fireworks rocket going straight up, then followed by a lightning fast rocket intercepting it. She then realized what was going on -- and quickly rushed to her home's bomb shelter (the "safe room"). 

Not a fantasy but a reality, her everyday reality, brought to you by the IDF (oh yes, and Rafael Advanced Defense Systems Ltd.)

From the Marina, we went to have lunch at her home. Unlike me, she isn't afraid of gas BBQs and so she grilled some mean chicken for lunch. We were joined by one of her three sons, and enjoyed the live convo about politics and life in Canada. 

With Rita, in her garden

Rita under her lemon tree, with two of her three dogs looking on

After lunch, we went for a walk in the Ashkelon National Park - right outside her house! Unlike the Pacific Spirit Park right outside our home, the Ashkelon National Park encompasses history and heritage thousands of years old. In addition to mother nature, it contains ruins dating back to the Roman period, among them marble and granite columns and capitals, the Roman basilica and statues of the goddesses who were the patrons of the city. 

Roman ruins

Roman ruins (to the left) in the park, overlooking the Mediterranean

On the way back to Rita's house, we saw a flock of sheep being brought to graze by their Bedouin owners.

The train ride back was quiet and relaxing, as I watched the sunset and drafted this blog post on the iPad.

Once in town, I walked back to the apartment from the train station, stepping into the mega-mall Azrieli Centre (or was I in Metrotown?!), then stopped by the local Shoppers Drug Mart look-alike to stock up (but they didn’t take my loyalty card...) and tried to get a mani at the local mani-pedi palace (open till midnight every night) but they were too busy to take me until 10 pm. 

Shoppers Drug Mart look-alike

Life in Tel Aviv just goes on.

People on the bus go up and...

I am self-banning the words ‘awesome’ and ‘amazing’ from my blog. I have been abusing them. But I need to find synonyms, or maybe even more powerful words because each day truly feels that this place is both amazing and awesome. Oh well. There I go again.

'Sunday is Monday' here (this still feels odd) and on Sunday I met with Efrat and Joe from Moshav Sde Nitzan, in the western part of the northern Negev.

(A Moshav is a type of Israeli cooperative agricultural community of individual farms. Like a kibbutz, a moshav emphasizes community labour but, unlike a kibbutz, farms in a moshav tend to be individually owned. Workers produce crops and goods on their properties through individual and/or pooled labour and resources and use profit and foodstuffs to provide for themselves. In other words, like a capitalist kibbutz)

I was introduced to Efrat and Joe by M. who asked if I would give them a hand developing a value proposition for their new business. Efrat is a very accomplished artist and she and Joe design, manufacture and market Judaica, like tallises and kippas and Shabbat tablecloths. They are a wonderful and enthusiastic couple and I enjoyed meeting them immensely.

Joe & Efrat

Efrat and Joe met me at Café Masarik (I am thinking of having cards printed with their address), having driven 2 hours from their moshav, which is located about, oh, 4 km from the Gaza border. I asked them if they were affected by the recent shelling of Ashkelon.

“We see missiles fly over our heads daily” was their reply. "You get used to it." And they were actually smiling when they said that.

They have invited me to visit them when I go to Eilat, and I am hoping I can make it.

In the afternoon I took the bus to Rishon LeZion, about ½ hour away, where I visited with Meira, a childhood friend of my mother’s. I met Meira about a year ago when she came to Vancouver. She and my mother hadn’t seen each other in over 60 years.

Meira and I enjoyed a late lunch of Shakshuka

Rishon is the fourth-largest city in Israel, with over 220,000 people. Founded in 1882 by European Jewish immigrants it opened the first Hebrew school in the country in 1889.

My mother's childhood home - a few years later...

Rishon original main Synagogue

Meira very generously drove me around town where she pointed out to me the places where my mother’s family had lived and the school they had gone to. It is all still there, but (as my mother told me over the phone) sadly it is a bit run down. 

 We ended the visit at Meira’s  beautiful apartment on the 7^th floor (they call it the 6^th floor here, as the ground floor is “zero”) overlooking Rishon.

View of Rishon on a hazy day

On my way home, Meira (who had fed me all afternoon, first at a restaurant where we had delicious Shakshuka and then at her place, where we had poppy seed cake) packed me a bag full of burekas with many (delicious) fillings to take away with me.

Started early Monday by having breakfast with Idan Zait. Idan is married to my Israeli cousin Anat. They now live in Vancouver but are moving back, along with their kids, in June. It was interesting to ask Idan about what’s going on here. After 10 years in Canada, Idan has a great perspective.  

Idan (note the two cell phones)

He believes business people here are way tougher than at home. In Canada, things are just simpler and deals are more straightforward. People aren’t always trying to get one past you.

I asked him my now-standard question: Why don't people here worry about Iran/Hezbollah/Hamas?

“Of course they worry”, he said. “Why do you think they are all stressed? It is just that they don't realize this is what they worry about.”

But I am not so convinced (sorry Idan). Israelis seems to share a lot of the characteristics of other Mediterranean folks. And Italians don't worry, at least not immediately, about being hit by Iran. 

With Idan at cafe Landawer

Later that morning, I spent time at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art visiting with old friends Vincent (van Gogh), March (Chagall), Camille (Pissarro), Wassily (Kandinsky), Jackson (Pollock), Mark (Rothko; Hello Bernard!) and many more. It was crowded in there.

Museum of Tel Aviv

(At the Museum, I rented one of those devices you carry with you to play a recorded description of what you are looking at. Unfortunately -and this isn't unusual in Israel where often they fall short on the "last inch"- not all paintings and sculptures had a descriptive recording but those that did weren’t properly marked and so I spent too much time trying to match the overall map of the complex with the exhibit halls with the exhibit groupings with the exhibits themselves and then, all that with the device I was carrying.)

After over three hours walking slowly and trying to take it all in, it was time to head out. When I returned the device, the lady working there asked me if I had enjoyed the visit, and then asked me if I had seen the new wing, which opened just a few weeks ago. 

New wing? I hadn't noticed it was there (The website said nothing about it, and there were no signs; did I mention Israeli’s weakness on “the last inch”?). So she came out from behind the counter and personally walked me over to the new wing.

New wing? It is a whole new full and complete museum! 

Too much for one day, so I took myself to the cafe (hadn't had a coffee for about 4 hours) and decided the new wing was going to happen for me another day.

New wing of the Museum, on the escalator going to the cafe

From the Museum I headed to Holon, to the meeting of Angel investors and start-ups David Assia had invited me to.

Holon is about 10 km south of Tel Aviv and, true to my intention to “act like a local” whenever possible, I took the bus to get there. I often take the bus now and sometimes I even know what I am doing.

On my way there, a man got on the bus. He was in uniform but looked older than the conscripts you see everywhere. He also looked rather scraggy, which in my observation is unusual for older soldiers. He was wearing an unusual-looking kippah and carried a large backpack.

I could see from my seat on the third of fourth row that this man and the bus driver were discussing something animatedly and suddenly, and for the first time in almost 4 weeks here, I started to worry.  

What is in his backpack!?

I was relieved when the man got off the bus. This wasn't the right bus for him.

This whole exchange took, maybe, 3 minutes. Was I the only person who worried? Did the bus driver go through the 999 tell-tale signs he is trained to look for when he is about to unmask a suicide bomber -- and dismissed them all? What about the other passengers, did they look up from their iPhones and notice the man? Probably not.

And this, it occurred to me afterwards, is also a way for Israelis to win this stupid war against people wanting to meet their 72 virgins right now: Don't give them power by worrying. At least don't show fear to them. Just build a fence and try and keep as many out as possible.

Their strength astounds me.

I wanted to see a bit of Holon, so I planned to arrive about 1 hour before the meeting was to start. The city, with about 200,000 people, has the second-largest industrial zone in Israel, after Haifa. In the early months of the 1948 Arab–Israeli War, Holon was on the front line, with constant shooting taking place. In the 1950s, the city was populated by Jewish immigrants from Arab countries but I would guess -- from what I saw, anyway-- that the city has a large Russian population now.

I asked the bus driver to drop me off “downtown” and walked about for a while (I also learned that a freshly squeezed glass of Orange Juice costs precisely half in downtown Holon than it does in downtown Tel Aviv).

In Israel, when you want to know how to get somewhere, you stop any passing stranger and immediately 3 or 4 people gather round and all discuss your question and tell you the best way to get where you want to go. So that is how I figured out how to get to my destination.

The meeting I went to took place at the Holon Institute of Technology (HIT) and was co-sponsored by an investment company, with the goal of promoting networking between investors and start-ups looking for funding. The format is the same as a “Speed Dating event” so 20 start-up executives presented in 5 minute time slots (with a big buzzer going off at the 5:01 mark). It was actually a lot of fun as it never went on for too long – and a few times I wished the speakers had been allowed to go longer.

The event started at 5:30 pm (or “17:30” as they refer to it here) and ended at 8:30, including a break with burekas with many (delicious) fillings..

At the end of the event, as I was saying goodbye to David Assia and others I met there, I abruptly realized that (1) I was somewhere in Holon, and (2) I had no idea how I would get back to Tel Aviv, because (3) I could not remember where the bus had dropped me off (mum, Inge, don’t worry: I always have enough cash for a cab ride home, even from Holon).

So I asked the organizer, Tuvia, whether he knew where the nearest bus stop was. He gave me the look of a person who hasn’t been on a bus in a very long time… and then smiled and said “Just wait!”

Tuvia walked over to the podium, grabbed the microphone  and in a booming voice announced in Hebrew for all to hear that Rachel from Canada was here and needed a ride to Tel Aviv and it would be a mitzvah to give her a ride (the mitzvah part I did not get…).

Needless to say, I had a choice of rides tonight.  Plus, not only did I score a free ride in a luxury vehicle, I had more captives to interrogate!

With Tuvia M., organizer

Gad, my friendly driver, works for a start-up and, after exchanging pleasantries (this is always the short part of socializing with Israelis) I told him the story about the man with the backpack on the bus. He completely understood. He told me he felt something like that for the first time in his life a few months ago when he took his 18 month old son to the train station to show him trains. He had never felt that before but now he feared for his son. But, he said, this is how things are. That is it.

Next month he goes to do Miluim to the Lebanese border. He says he will miss his son.

(Miluim is army reserve duty and one of the remarkable characteristics of life in Israel: men, after completing regular army service at age 21, are called up for a MONTH of miluim each year until they hit age 40; it used to be 55. Imagine what that does to labour productivity!)

Funny, they call me Rachel

Funny, they call me Rachel here. I thought I would be called Rahel (in Hebrew) if not my real name (in Spanish) but everyone seems to default to the English version. When I ask why not Rahel, most people in Tel Aviv smile and say either “I don’t know” or “It is too old fashioned.” 

What they are thinking is, “It sounds too religious.”

The departure between the secular Israelis and the Haredim here is something to reckon with. Being in Tel Aviv, I am only experiencing it vicariously via the newspapers and the people I talk to. In Jerusalem, it is something the locals on both sides of the divide deal with on a minute-by-minute basis. This is leading to increasing amount of conflict.

(The Haredim are the very, very ultra-Orthodox and not your average kippa-wearing man on the street and in the Army uniform and in the barbershop and in the accounting office and in  a hospital and driving the bus…).

As far as I can tell, the conflict manifests itself in two primary ways: the Haredim's unwillingness to work in paid employment (men, anyway) coupled with very large families, and their unwillingness to serve in the Army.

Ultra-Orthodox men in Israel have traditionally shunned the workforce in favor of Torah study and government subsidies. Torah study --but presumably not government subsidies-- hastens the coming of Mashiach. Fair enough. But, I wonder, if the greatest commentator Rashi had a job, why not them?

Haredim make up the poorest segment of Israel’s Jewish population. A majority – 59% – live below the poverty line (the figures are dramatically better when one or two family members work) compared to just 14% among the general Jewish population. Recent years, however, have seen small but growing numbers of men and women join the workforce and attend professional training programs. The employment rate of Haredi men in Israel rose from 38 percent in 2009 to 45 percent in 2011.  A main objective of the Israeli government is to increase their employment rate to 63% by 2020 -  so a long ways to go. Secular Israelis resent the disproportionate rate of government subsidies going to the Haredim because they are patently unwilling to gets paid jobs.

The second major issue is the Haredim's unwillingness to serve in the Army.

At the creation of the State in 1948, prime minister David Ben Gurion and the Haredi worked out a compromised that the government would exempt a group of religious scholars (at that time, just 400 people) from compulsory military service so that they could pursue their studies. Either Ben Gurion needed them to support his government or, more likely to me, he could not imagine their numbers would ever grow. Ben Gurion probably saw Zionism as the evolution of Judaism.

On this one, Ben Gurion was wrong. Haredi population has been growing very rapidly due to high birth rate and doubles every 12 to 20 years. In Israel, they are estimated at 750,000 people. (I just Googled that. I have no idea how you go from 400 to 750,000 in 64 years; most likely immigration)

Secular Israelis recently that the Haredi don’t serve in the Army, especially at a time when the IDF is experiencing a shortage of people. Recently, the High Court ruled that this exemption could not be extended in its current form beyond August 2012, and this has become a huge issue between secular Israelis and Haredim  (again, many religiously observant people serve proudly in the Army; just the Haredim don’t want to).

There is a lot of resentment going on and extremism and violence has broken out.  But it may be changing. My all-time live hero Natan Sharansky pointed out recenltly that the Haredi extremists are becoming violent precisely because they are losing their battle against modernity.  He believes Haredim are no longer content with their destitute existence, that they are rushing headlong to work, to vocational training colleges, even to academia and that unprecedented numbers are choosing employment over welfare, modern education over luddism and maybe even military and national service over separation.  I pray he is right.

Friday I had lunch with Rafi’s cousin Avi at Café Batyah on Dizengoff. While the restaurant probably won’t make it to many Best-of lists, it was a great experience. They serve “very very Jewish food,” as Avi explained to me, considering this to be a very exotic food selection (it is like Kaplan’s back home. In all respects). More interestingly for me was the fact that, according to my mother-in-law, the woman who started the restaurant used to work at Café Ben Yehuda. And Café Ben Yehuda was the restaurant Rafi’s grandfather stared in the late 1930s in Tel Aviv, and which looms large in our family’s lore. It was really great to be there (though no one looked old enough to actually, possibly be Batyah).

Before and after joining Avi, I walked for hours on Dizengoff and surroundings. The total energy of the place was brilliant: lots and lots of people strolling, young teens, couples, young families with babies, older folks… And every café, every park bench, every juice stand was filled with people enjoying the sunshine and waiting for Shabbat in a Tel Aviv sort of way.

Gordon Beach

Fruit juice stand

Girls going home for the weekend

Your exchange comes with a free OJ here. Seriously.

Saturday morning I awoke feeling almost over my cold so I decided to walk to Tel Aviv’s main synagogue on Allenby Street. It is Shabbat in Tel Aviv and the streets were very quiet. 

Unfortunately, just a few blocks away from the apartment I slipped and fell, bumping my head on the pavement. From nowhere, two young women appeared and got me water, a cab driver materialized and offered to take me to the hospital… I was just shook up and bleeding a bit so I thanked everyone and walked (slowly) back home. There, I heard Rafi’s voice and put an icepack on my forehead for two hours and felt sorry for myself.  (It is now about 13 hours later, and I have what I hope doesn’t become a permanent imprint on my forehead of the clips inside my sun glasses. My forehead looks like it has two brackets carved in).

Later in the afternoon, I met my new BFF, Emanuela my trainer, who had invited me to meet her for lunch at a seaside restaurant, Fortuna del Mar. It was just want I needed. Four hours into it, we had enjoyed a wonderful meal (was it lunch? dinner? We started at 2 pm) of focaccia, tomato and artichoke salads, green salad, grilled sea bass, and chocolate cake with ice cream, plus a beautiful bottle of Chardonnay. Emanuela, my *trainer* ordered all of this so I am sure it is good for me.

With Emanuela. I should have been the one wearing the hat.

I  asked Emanuela if she worries about the political situation. No, she told me. There is no point worrying. She doesn't particularly follow the news and lives her life like everyone else everywhere else does and worries about the same things as everyone else. Emanuela's father was killed in the 1973 war when she was 8.

Once I got home, Rafi Skyped me and, in my enthusiasm to answer the video call, I forgot about the fall and the bloody forehead. It took Rafi 3 seconds to notice the "brackets" on my forehead. Yikes.

This evening I went to a comedy show. Clearly I live a sheltered life. 

Promotional Poster for Pam Ann

The comedy is called Pam Ann, and it is a solo performance about an eponymous air hostess. The description of the show mentioned it focuses "on the nuances of air travel, identifying the individual quirks of some of the biggest international airlines and their media stereotypes." So I thought I would go.

Well, what I didn’t realize was that the show was very, very campy and the audience would be comprised mainly of gay men and airline crews. However, I wasn't the only 'outsider': there were also lots of heterosexual couples and even some men wearing kippas.

Audience getting freebies before the performance

Pam Ann offstage

Audience view

Of course, I could not help but reflect on the fact that nowhere else in the Middle East would such a performance be allowed, nor would such an audience gather in perfect and absolute freedom.

In Israel, same-sex sexual activity has been legal since 1963 de facto and 1988 de jure. Unregistered cohabitation is legal and while same sex marriages cannot be performed in the country, foreign same-sex marriages are recognized. Same-sex adoption is legal and gays are allowed to serve openly in the Army.

Someone needs to tell Pride Toronto’s group Queers Against Israeli Apartheid that "Israeli apartheid" is a figment of their feverish anti-Semitism.

Walking back to my apartment at around 11 pm, the streets were full, absolutely full of people, and all restaurants and cafes were open, and full of people too. 

Everyone was enjoying their freedom.

Iraqi chicken soup

I woke up this morning still feeling quite sick. But another round of OJ and pomegranate juice, plus more grapefruits the size of my head, seem to have done the trick and am feeling better. No more T3s. (Hello Jenn)

Really fresh pomegranate juice

Yesterday my body decided for me to take it easy, but I had several commitments I did not want to get out of, so I slept till noon and then went with Avigdor to Petach Tikvah, a city close to Tel Aviv, to do a workshop with a high tech start-up I have been talking to. It is very exciting (and humbling) to work with really smart people.

From there, Avigdor and I went to dinner at the best restaurant I have been to so far (but to be fair, I really haven't gone out to a lot of fancy restaurants... I am waiting for Rafi for that). It is called Raphael (haha), located on the waterfront. The food and ambiance were fabulous. Major difference with similar restaurants back home: the portion size. I had lamb chops that were exquisitely prepared. The quantity served would make any Jewish mother proud (literally, I could not finish the dish).

After that, Avigdor had called David Assia who had invited us to have a glass of wine as his home in Savyon, a local council close to Tel Aviv, so off we went (after a stop over for some Tylenol).

I was in awe: David is one of the preeminent investors and entrepreneurs in Israel today and is featured in the media all the time.  He was extremely hospitable and gracious and, even though I was on T3s, I enjoyed meeting him immensely. The stories he shared go to the root of Israel's high tech history (with Avigdor, he co-founded Magic Software, Israel's first IPO on Nasdaq).

But not only was David Assia hospitable and gracious, he was as generous as so many of the people I have encountered so far.  After we spoke for about an hour, he offered to introduce me to a few start-ups and invited me to a meeting of Angel investors and start-ups on Monday. What could I say, but "I think I am free then.”

By the time I got to my apartment, I was beat.

This morning I slept late again and then drove up to Haifa with Avigdor for another business meeting with A. Sitting in the lounge of the Dan Panorama hotel (seems recently renovated, very swanky), overlooking the immense Haifa Bay, it is easy to forget we were close to the Lebanese border.

View of Haifa Bay (and not Lebanon)

 Apparently you can "see" Lebanon from here ONLY on a very clear day. In a past post I wrote "you can see Lebanon from here", implying always. A few Israeli friends reading my blog have (laughed and) pointed out my error, so I stand corrected (I feel much better now).

I took the train back to Tel Aviv and tried to get the iPad working, but there was no Wi-Fi on the train. I am spoiled now. If the bus to Jerusalem had Wi-Fi, why not the train to Tel Aviv? (and, more importantly, am I going native, starting to complain already?)

On the train I sat next to a businessman from China. He had scribbled the name of the train station he needed but was having a hard time getting that question across; his handwriting looked more Chinese than English. Of course I didn't know the answer but asked around for him.  While I couldn't help him directly, he was now my captive audience for a few questions.

Turns out he was here for two weeks on business selling shoe wear and showed me the catalogue. He told me that Tevah was his client and that he came to Israel often and that it was ‘very nice, very nice.’ I wish the train ride had been longer, but I had reached my destination and had to get off. So many questions for him still in my head.

As I headed to the apartment I walked past my little Kubeh restaurant and realized THIS was how I was going to end my flu:  some Iraqi chicken soup!

Kubeh again: Iraqi chicken soup