One of my roommates is in a pre-med program, and she went to chemistry class on Thursday at Tel Aviv University.
"Today we are going to talk about soap," said her professor. "Who knows what soap is made of?"
"Jews!" answered the entire class, except for three bewildered Arab students, who didn't catch the blatant Holocaust reference.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
The best laid plans
Three weeks ago, I saw ads for a joint Ehud Banai-Mashina concert in Tel Aviv on Thursday Feb 14. Seeing as they are both musical legends in their own rights, a double-header would be doubly fabulous.
I rushed home and told my roommate about it. We went online to order tickets. "Wait a minute," he said. "What if we order two each? This way either we'll sell the extras or find some hotties to take with us."
Not thinking clearly, I put down 360 shekels (at this point 100 bucks thanks to the sinking dollar) for two tickets.
Flash to Wednesday, February 13: my roommate picks up a kusit (little vagina, or hot girl) who lives in our building to come with us. This means that at the last minute I am stuck selling one ticket. I called everyone in my phone. My roommate called everyone in his. No takers. We started yelling at each other about how awkward the three-person date was going to be. I quickly regretted all the fun things I had taught him to say in English as my roommate called me shit-for-brains.
Eventually, the three of us got to the concert hall and I sold my ticket to a geriatric woman for 90 shekels - ie half price. The only good part of the transaction was that she mysteriously did not sit next to me. The concert itself wound up being 4 hours long and piss-poor.
A few lessons from this experience: never try scalping Israeli concert tickets, and never pay more than 100 shekels for a concert.
Thankfully, I went to a party after the concert that wound up salvaging the night.
A few comments:
*I have a friend working on a pig farm who just got promoted from pen cleaner to pig masturbator. jeffyosko.blogspot.com
*Tomorrow morning I'm going to Egypt for the week with my dad and sister. Should be a blast. Maybe I'll get a tan, the weather here is really making me feel Ashkenazi.
I rushed home and told my roommate about it. We went online to order tickets. "Wait a minute," he said. "What if we order two each? This way either we'll sell the extras or find some hotties to take with us."
Not thinking clearly, I put down 360 shekels (at this point 100 bucks thanks to the sinking dollar) for two tickets.
Flash to Wednesday, February 13: my roommate picks up a kusit (little vagina, or hot girl) who lives in our building to come with us. This means that at the last minute I am stuck selling one ticket. I called everyone in my phone. My roommate called everyone in his. No takers. We started yelling at each other about how awkward the three-person date was going to be. I quickly regretted all the fun things I had taught him to say in English as my roommate called me shit-for-brains.
Eventually, the three of us got to the concert hall and I sold my ticket to a geriatric woman for 90 shekels - ie half price. The only good part of the transaction was that she mysteriously did not sit next to me. The concert itself wound up being 4 hours long and piss-poor.
A few lessons from this experience: never try scalping Israeli concert tickets, and never pay more than 100 shekels for a concert.
Thankfully, I went to a party after the concert that wound up salvaging the night.
A few comments:
*I have a friend working on a pig farm who just got promoted from pen cleaner to pig masturbator. jeffyosko.blogspot.com
*Tomorrow morning I'm going to Egypt for the week with my dad and sister. Should be a blast. Maybe I'll get a tan, the weather here is really making me feel Ashkenazi.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Asians in Israel
Israel has the third-highest per-capita sushi eating rate in the world. Last month, Tel Aviv's 100th sushi restaurant opened.
Most of that sushi, along with Thai food, Chinese and other Asian delights is probably going to start to really suck when the people making it aren't allowed into Israel. The Ministry of Industry, Trade and Labor is providing 500 permits for Asian workers this year, compared to 900 last year. Next year, there will be no regular permits, and Israeli restaurants will have to pay Asians double the minimum wage as "expert" staff. A great quote from this Haaretz article: "Everyone can make Chinese food it's not impossible to learn," said Shoshana Strauss, a lawyer working on foreign worker issues for the Ministry of Industry, Trade and Labor.
In other Asian related news, my office is right near the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, the unofficial home of Israel's sizeable foreign worker community. These people need to go shopping, and there is a pedestrian walkway nearby lined with Asian food stores and bars populated by low-income African, Asian and Russian workers. Seeing as foreign workers probably can't afford expensive booze, I think this street is an excellent destination for a bar crawl.
Most of that sushi, along with Thai food, Chinese and other Asian delights is probably going to start to really suck when the people making it aren't allowed into Israel. The Ministry of Industry, Trade and Labor is providing 500 permits for Asian workers this year, compared to 900 last year. Next year, there will be no regular permits, and Israeli restaurants will have to pay Asians double the minimum wage as "expert" staff. A great quote from this Haaretz article: "Everyone can make Chinese food it's not impossible to learn," said Shoshana Strauss, a lawyer working on foreign worker issues for the Ministry of Industry, Trade and Labor.
In other Asian related news, my office is right near the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, the unofficial home of Israel's sizeable foreign worker community. These people need to go shopping, and there is a pedestrian walkway nearby lined with Asian food stores and bars populated by low-income African, Asian and Russian workers. Seeing as foreign workers probably can't afford expensive booze, I think this street is an excellent destination for a bar crawl.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Back on the Wagon
A few exciting things have happened in the last week, most connected in some way to food or agriculture.
On Thursday, I got an email from the Editor of the Jerusalem Report, saying I could freelance on green/food issues for the magazine, which comes out every other week in English. It's the best piece of English language journalism printed in Israel, so I am really excited for the opportunity. I immediately started looking into story ideas.
On Friday morning, I went to Hinnawi meats, a shop renowned throughout Tel Aviv. The store is on Yefet Street, one of the main N-S arteries running through Yafo, an Arab city hundreds of years old that was incorporated as the southern end of Tel Aviv. I got there and started asking the workers about where the meat comes from. This conversation is a little strange in English, and I was finding my translations into Hebrew were lacking at best. "Did these chickens see the sun? Did your sheep walk around outside? Were these happy cows?" Whatever the animals did in life, they were delicious in death. Bishara Hinnawi, who owns the store, had a counterboy slice a piece of rump steak from a calf. Raw meat in Hebrew is called "live meat" and it was so fresh it tasted like sushi. Then Mr. Hinnawi invited me to do the daily round to his other two branches, which are in the northern neighborhoods in and around Tel Aviv. He sells meat, along with high-end liquor, sauces, 17 kinds of salt shakers, and other signs of "the good life." One of his branches is in a shopping mall, right next to a cafe. Pretty funny idea, that you could buy a pair of jeans and a leg of lamb in the same place.
On Saturday, I went to a tree-planting morning in the village of Wallaja, outside of Jerusalem. Mornings like this combine so many left-wing ideals it's almost nauseating. A group of about 25 people - mostly Israeli Jews - showed up on the hilly land belonging to Abed, a resident of Wallaja. A Palestinian agronomist and the head of the agricultural council of Wallaja were there, along with a few other Palestinians. Together, we all dug swills (U-shaped trenches), fortified them with stones, planted fruit tree saplings in the middle of the swills and covered the roots with donkey manure and dirt. Then we gathered around for a lunch of salads and freshly-fried felafel. The guy leading the planting effort is named Hayim Feldman. He is trying to revive old Palestinian farming practices on a farm between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.
I'm working on a story about organic strawberries in Israel - where they come from, who certifies them, and who cares. Being away from writing so long reminded me of how much I like it, and it's nice to be back at reporting. It's also pleasant to know that the thousands of dollars poured into my Medill education are paying off, albeit slowly.
On Thursday, I got an email from the Editor of the Jerusalem Report, saying I could freelance on green/food issues for the magazine, which comes out every other week in English. It's the best piece of English language journalism printed in Israel, so I am really excited for the opportunity. I immediately started looking into story ideas.
On Friday morning, I went to Hinnawi meats, a shop renowned throughout Tel Aviv. The store is on Yefet Street, one of the main N-S arteries running through Yafo, an Arab city hundreds of years old that was incorporated as the southern end of Tel Aviv. I got there and started asking the workers about where the meat comes from. This conversation is a little strange in English, and I was finding my translations into Hebrew were lacking at best. "Did these chickens see the sun? Did your sheep walk around outside? Were these happy cows?" Whatever the animals did in life, they were delicious in death. Bishara Hinnawi, who owns the store, had a counterboy slice a piece of rump steak from a calf. Raw meat in Hebrew is called "live meat" and it was so fresh it tasted like sushi. Then Mr. Hinnawi invited me to do the daily round to his other two branches, which are in the northern neighborhoods in and around Tel Aviv. He sells meat, along with high-end liquor, sauces, 17 kinds of salt shakers, and other signs of "the good life." One of his branches is in a shopping mall, right next to a cafe. Pretty funny idea, that you could buy a pair of jeans and a leg of lamb in the same place.
On Saturday, I went to a tree-planting morning in the village of Wallaja, outside of Jerusalem. Mornings like this combine so many left-wing ideals it's almost nauseating. A group of about 25 people - mostly Israeli Jews - showed up on the hilly land belonging to Abed, a resident of Wallaja. A Palestinian agronomist and the head of the agricultural council of Wallaja were there, along with a few other Palestinians. Together, we all dug swills (U-shaped trenches), fortified them with stones, planted fruit tree saplings in the middle of the swills and covered the roots with donkey manure and dirt. Then we gathered around for a lunch of salads and freshly-fried felafel. The guy leading the planting effort is named Hayim Feldman. He is trying to revive old Palestinian farming practices on a farm between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.
I'm working on a story about organic strawberries in Israel - where they come from, who certifies them, and who cares. Being away from writing so long reminded me of how much I like it, and it's nice to be back at reporting. It's also pleasant to know that the thousands of dollars poured into my Medill education are paying off, albeit slowly.
Friday, February 8, 2008
My Karma Stole My Bikema
I really had it coming. In fact, my bicycle technically should have been stolen before today. But that doesn't ease my heartbreak. As I innocently slept in my giant king sized bed, enjoying my newly washed sheets, some heartless bastard wrestled my bike from the tree in front of my apartment building. I woke up this morning and saw that my best friend in Tel Aviv is gone.
I deserved this on two counts. Number one, I'm pretty sure it was a hot bike to begin with. I bought my bike for 200 shekels from a mystery man named Asi on a street corner near a grocery store, instead of at a real address - like his house. A month later, I saw him selling more 200 shekel bikes around the same street corner.
Count number two: I have figured out a ploy to screw Tel Aviv laundromats out of hundreds of shekels. The 5-shekel coin and the American quarter are exactly the same size. My laundry that used to cost me 12 shekels per load to wash is now 2 shekels and 2 quarters - ie 4 shekels. Through this method I cheated my laundromat out of 16 shekels last night - and now I am paying dearly. This is particularly unfair since the dryers only take real 5 shekel pieces.
My bicycle and I have been together since the beginning of November. It's been a loving relationship. I showered it with affection, in the form of three fixed flat tires, one excellent little blue crate, a top-of-the-line lock, and a recent tire realignment. In return, the little two wheeler has taken me across Tel Aviv and Yafo, carried my groceries, even gotten me home in the pouring rain.
No more. Goodbye.
I deserved this on two counts. Number one, I'm pretty sure it was a hot bike to begin with. I bought my bike for 200 shekels from a mystery man named Asi on a street corner near a grocery store, instead of at a real address - like his house. A month later, I saw him selling more 200 shekel bikes around the same street corner.
Count number two: I have figured out a ploy to screw Tel Aviv laundromats out of hundreds of shekels. The 5-shekel coin and the American quarter are exactly the same size. My laundry that used to cost me 12 shekels per load to wash is now 2 shekels and 2 quarters - ie 4 shekels. Through this method I cheated my laundromat out of 16 shekels last night - and now I am paying dearly. This is particularly unfair since the dryers only take real 5 shekel pieces.
My bicycle and I have been together since the beginning of November. It's been a loving relationship. I showered it with affection, in the form of three fixed flat tires, one excellent little blue crate, a top-of-the-line lock, and a recent tire realignment. In return, the little two wheeler has taken me across Tel Aviv and Yafo, carried my groceries, even gotten me home in the pouring rain.
No more. Goodbye.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Community Supported Agriculture
Today I had the environmentalist's equivalent of being Barack Obama. I signed up for a CSA, or community-supported agriculture group. That means I am paying a slightly exorbitant amount of money to have fresh, organically grown vegetables delivered to my door. I managed to get my roommate involved as well, so we each put down 85 shekels and got the following today:
A giant crate of cherry tomatoes, avocados, sweet potatoes, around 10 red peppers, pomelit (little pomelos), carrots, cucumbers, and one miserable leek and one miserable hunk of broccoli.
We also got the requisite bag of mystery greens. I have no idea what I'll be doing with some of it, but that's supposed to be the point - you cook according to what's ripe and in season, not according to what's in the supermarket.
So far, the vegetables are fresh and delicious, but it is a little funny to be going out of my way to get the freshest vegetables when Tel Aviv is popping with really great produce all the time. However, this is being delivered to my door, and it does involve me personally with the story of one farm, one farmer and one crate.
Community-supported agriculture, like many Western environmental concepts, is called the same thing in Hebrew: חקלאות בשיתוף הקהילה, or hakla'ut beshituf hakehila. I have to say, Israelis deserve a pat on the back for finally importing a good American idea. Less successful imports include coverage of the Superbowl ads in the Hebrew press, slow privatization of the university system, and gross highways and malls. Nice work, Israeli agriculture.
A giant crate of cherry tomatoes, avocados, sweet potatoes, around 10 red peppers, pomelit (little pomelos), carrots, cucumbers, and one miserable leek and one miserable hunk of broccoli.
We also got the requisite bag of mystery greens. I have no idea what I'll be doing with some of it, but that's supposed to be the point - you cook according to what's ripe and in season, not according to what's in the supermarket.
So far, the vegetables are fresh and delicious, but it is a little funny to be going out of my way to get the freshest vegetables when Tel Aviv is popping with really great produce all the time. However, this is being delivered to my door, and it does involve me personally with the story of one farm, one farmer and one crate.
Community-supported agriculture, like many Western environmental concepts, is called the same thing in Hebrew: חקלאות בשיתוף הקהילה, or hakla'ut beshituf hakehila. I have to say, Israelis deserve a pat on the back for finally importing a good American idea. Less successful imports include coverage of the Superbowl ads in the Hebrew press, slow privatization of the university system, and gross highways and malls. Nice work, Israeli agriculture.
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