איתי

International Focaccia Month

2008-07-10T22:26:18Z

I woke up with an Olympic sneeze (again) this a.m., went outside and did a bit of yardwork. Next up, I decided to declare July the International Month of Focaccia! After all, somebody had to do it! The house was still cool, so I got busy in the kitchen, following a totally simple recipe, (especially if you don't bother to read the directions), to which I added about 3/4 of a cup of green olives (a 1/2 cup, coarsely chopped and incorporated in the dough + a 1/4 cup for topping), a little diced red onion and some sliced Roma tomatoes on top ~ and came up with this:

Ten minutes of work and fifty minutes of waiting and, voilà! ~ the world is a better place!

Lie Low

2008-07-10T02:14:52Z

I feel wherever I go that tomorrow is near

During my last weeks in Tel Aviv, I mostly thought about the leaving part and almost not at all about what I would do after my arrival except that I determined to approach the transition from Israel to Oregon with more silence than commentary and wait to see what would unfold. At this point, I've already been in the U.S. for about three weeks and it's been entirely pleasant (except for seasonal allergies that are a major feature of life in the Willamette Valley). Strangely, as much as I've missed friends here in Oregon, until last night, I hadn't seen anyone except family. It felt like I just needed to lie low for a bit and that seems to have been the best decision I made in ages. Now, I feel ready to come out of my cave and explore new possibilities. I had a dream last night which ended with a line from one of everyone's favorite presocratics, Herakleitos:

It is in changing that we find purpose.

Yesterday, after work and on her way to massage school, my sister dropped me off down by the river where I hopped a bus into Portland to meet an old friend at the university's Dialogue Dome which is a cool, little cob structure with an eco-roof that is alive and growning. We got a chance to catch up, meet my friend's parents and nieces, play in the park and take a look at פרשת השבוע this week's Torah portion. My friend and I ended up talking until 4 in the morning. I slept a few hours and dragged myself out of bed and have been in an Ogden Nash frame of mind all day. Oregon has been warmer than Tel Aviv, but that puts me in the mood to bake. Maybe I'll whip up something Mediterranean for a late supper.

Ute Lemper, I'm a Stranger Here Myself
from Kurt Weill, Ogden Nash's One Touch of Venus)

Back Porch

2008-06-30T02:10:11Z

Shavuah tov! I've already been in the Pacific Northwest for twelve wonderful days. My sleep pattern is still whacked and hay fever is kicking my tuchus, but other than that, all is well. After the first few days which I spent with Erin and Kathy in Washington, I have been staying with my sister, Loren and my niece, Lindsay here in Oregon City, the town in which I grew up. Except for a foray to the supermarket for provisions and to Radio Shack to get a new adaptor for my computer, I've mostly just been hanging out around the house, gardening a bit, and exhaling.

On one of my last evenings there, I had a visitor in my kitchen: a sand gecko. Years ago, when I was a member of Kibbutz Elifaz, I used to play piano in the evening and the geckos ducked in to visit. The appearance of a gecko is a good omen.

My sister is in massage school now, and I have been volunteering to be her guinea pig. Last night, I even got a little bit of a spa treatment, including a salt scrub for my feet and and then hands and feet dipped in paraffin wax. Yesterday, it was over 100 degrees F./38 degrees C. - warmer than, but not nearly as humid as Tel Aviv. (I am not missing summer in Tel Aviv in any way! I wonder how Matan and Shira are settling in in my old flat. I hope they will be as happy there as I was). I've mostly been sitting out on my sister's back porch a lot, watching the sky and thinking. This afternoon, it got strangely dark all of a sudden. Then, just when Loren suggested that we might get some rain, we had a thunder storm. It was rather amazing to daven mincha as the lightening was flashing!

In the spring of 1975, I read Auden for the first time. When I was in Jerusalem a few weeks ago with Nava, I remembered one of the poems I set to music all those years ago. We decided to walk the wall around the Old City (built by the Ottoman sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent in 1538), from Jaffa Gate northward to Lions Gate. We got a really different perspective of the city from up there. The first part of the walk is along one side of the Christian Quarter. Later, when we were in the Muslim Quarter, some guys threw large rocks at us. I've been on buses that were stoned, but felt pretty vulnerable up on the wall.

On the wall, Jerusalem, June 2008

Roman Wall Blues
W.H. Auden

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

First Dispatch from the New World

2008-06-18T18:05:59Z

Yesterday morning about 2:30, I knocked on my Tel Aviv neighbor's door. After he blinked "hallo?" and did his wake up dance, he went to fetch the car and took me to Ben Gurion airport. Thanks, Nicholas!

The trip to Istanbul is a hop, skip and a jump. They fed us breakfast (kosher vegan!) and - hoppa! - we were already there. The Istanbul airport was about the only excitement I had on the trip. Every place that one could be pulled aside for a security check, I was, including being taken into a special room for a strip search. No matter how matter of fact and disinterested in a practiced, professional, even friendly manner the two guys were, that little invasion involved latex gloves. It turns out that I am not involved in drug smuggling, terrorism or international espionage. About 10 minutes later, I was laying tefillin and davening shaharit (morning service).

For the Istanbul-New York leg of the trip, I was joined by a group of teachers from Kazakhstan and 100 or so of their teenage boy charges who were on their way to an English-language camp. They were very excited but quiet. I don't know what they - or the other passengers (there were a few others) - are used to eating, but they seemed to pick at their meals. I, on the other hand, was served two hearty, gourmet vegan meals (stuffed grape leaves, humus, a pepper-tomato sauce over baked veggies with a mujaddra-esque pilaf, three salads and fresh pears and yellow rasins for dessert). Compensation for having been strip-searched? You tell me. Yummy? I all but licked the plate. The envy in the eyes of my flesh-consuming fellow passengers was priceless.

On Turkish Airlines, periodically we were treated to sessions of "Aerobics" - a series of exercises which passengers can perform in their seats. At first, we were amused. Some of the little kids joined in. By the fourth time around (about 7 hours into the trip) we were all enthusiastically following along. Picture the chicken dance. So, by the time I arrived at JFK and despite the 10+ hours on board, I was feeling great. I found myself with about 5 hours to "stretch my legs" in NY. I had kind of expected to be questioned by a post-9/11 US airport staff after having lived in the Middle East for the last four years. Zip. Nada. Zilch. A glance at my passport and "welcome home" was all I got. Nice. Maybe they talked to the Turks talked to New York?

Since my standard, under-weight limit luggage was checked through from Tel Aviv all the way to Portland, I didn't get to find out if the rumors about Delta charging passengers to travel with luggage are true. I was not charged for a seat-belt. The complimentary peanuts were $3.00. I declined the offer. Pillows and blankets were only available in first class. The seats in coach did not recline. Turkish Airlines provides passengers with grey socks to keep one's toes toasty; a sleep masque; ear plugs; a toothbrush and toothpaste. I brushed my teeth, put on the socks and masque and dozed off until the humorous announcement to "return" our seats to their full, upright positions for the descent into Portland.

When I got off the plane, Erin was there to meet me. My sister, Loren and my niece, Lindsay were there, too. A wonderful surprise! Now, I am staying with Erin for a few days in rural Washington. Her dogs came to see me this a.m. after the best night's sleep of my life. It is so quiet here! I can see chickens and roosters outside the sliding glass doors and I get to meet the horses soon. Erin brought me an amazing vegan breakfast bar she made and hot coffee. Now, I really shoud try to pry myself from bed.

גאווה

2008-06-06T14:09:45Z

(Matan, notice the proud cow!)

I don't know what it is. Today is Pride in Tel Aviv. There have been rainbow banners up all over town. I just wasn't up for it this year. I know that I'm supposed to be Israeli by now and carry on with business as usual, but after Gaza fired 10 Qassam rockets and six mortars at us, causing injury, shock and damage, I didn't feel colorful enough to march. Besides, even though Shabbat comes in late these almost summer days, there's plenty to do before hand. So, except for a foray to the שוק market, I stayed home to cook, clean and pack boxes. I am also trying to figure out if my tallit and tefillin will fit into my laptop bag (along with the computer!) as my carry on. I'm hoping to only take one large suitcase (checked) plus my computer and guitar as carry ons.

The highlights this week centered around friends and food: meeting the revolutionary Sigal and "experiencing" Abu Hassan with Eric, another yummy vegan meal prepared by my flesh-eating buddy, Mashav, hanging out in Jerusalem with Shira and her brother, Ari who were on their way to sushi, and Italian food with Avi last night here in Tel Aviv.

Before the sushi binge

Shabbat Shalom!

Amulets & Acupuncture

2008-06-03T20:04:35Z

My days are filled with boxes and good byes. I've been doing some yoga to release the tension in my chest. It is terribly sad to leave this place and these people. I do not know if I will ever return but I believe that I am doing the right thing by leaving now. I've been incredibly touched by the love and support friends and family have shown me.

I met with my 5th grader this evening. For the past year, it's been my delight to work with her each week, sometimes in Arabic but mostly in English. When I came around this evening, she was focused on a report she was writing about the adventures of her grandmother from Syria. After the lesson, she gave me a poem and an amulet.

Jewish amulets are difficult to read at best. For instance, the names of the five angels, Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, and Nuriel might be invoked but, either in order to save space or to somehow concentrate the power and so increase the efficacy of the amulet, the five names would usually expressed in the single word, Argaman, constructed from the first letters of their Hebrew names: ארגמן aleph-resh-gimmel-mem-nun, which also means 'purple.' There is a butte behind Kibbutz Elifaz called אַרְגָּמָן Argaman because it turns purple at sunset. The one my student gave me comes from a Kabbalistic formula by which 72 names are created by combining the letters of the aleph-bet. This one, mem-hey-shen, is for healing and health.

Go for the throat.jpg

When I used to go for acupuncture, I would study the wall chart of points while I was getting needled. I marveled how anyone could possibly remember them all, let alone what each one did and how they worked in concert. I do not think I am a particularly superstitious person, but I began asking myself if it were the amulet or all that yoga that was working its charm on my chest. Then, I looked at the second photo and wondered what acupuncture point was beneath the amulet that I have been fingering all evening as my thumb massaged the notch underneath. I think that it is a point on the Conception Vessel Meridian, CV 22, which is for chest tightness!

This is my new 'orange amulet' which bikelovejones built for me. It was love at first sight! Tears rolled down my face when I first saw it. Yesterday, gas prices went up in Tel Aviv. A gallon of premium now costs US$9.00 and a gallon of diesel is $11.50. Incredible.

Ceci est une bicyclette: Bike Paths for Beth

2008-05-23T19:54:18Z

On her last day in Tel Aviv, Jutta and I walked about the city talking, snapping photos of bike path with bikelovejones in mind. We spent a lovely hour at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art where we got to see an exhibit of paintings by Avraham Naton, some impressionists and a couple of Magritte paintings. There were a few Kandinsky pieces I loved and a small stone sculpture by Henry Moore. We went to my favorite French bookstore on King George Street. A sign on the door the door invoked Magritte:

We decided on the spot to name our exhibit "Ceci est une bicyclette"

Sign of the Times

View from the Rothchild bike path

My Lane

Hanging Poetry

Jutta shows the way

On My Toes

2008-05-23T10:15:32Z

I woke up luxuriously late this a.m., brewed some joe and sat, blinking as my soul slowly slid back into my body. My houseguests of the last two weeks are gone. As I was sizing up what I need to do to get ready for Shabbat, I was poking around in the closet and found a pair of my old opinci (sometimes called opanke or opanki, they are leather - not vegan! - footwear), from the days when I used to dance in various ensembles, including a Macedonian troupe with whom I performed one year at the annual Northwest Folklife Festival in Seattle.

Mine are the pointy style without the cool Serbian gondola curl.

There is a great Israeli Balkan music and dance site (in English) called DUNAV which has lots of ethnographic information, costuming, recordings, videos, and sheet music. There is lots of amazing music in mp3 format for free, legal download.

Here is a clip of dances from Serbia performed by the Montenegrian Ensemble Igalo. Why Serbia? Tomorrow night is the finale of the Eurovision Song Contest which is being held this year in Belgrade where Israeli singer, Boaz Mauda will win hearts. The video begins with a good shot of opinci.

The Art of Transformation

2008-05-09T11:25:58Z

Recently, as nomadmatan noticed, I seem to have all but abandoned this blog. I think that the last time I jotted anything here was half a month ago during פסח Passover. Work responsibilities (tying up the final loose ends of the book on Libya) and very minor health issues (I've started physical therapy for my right shoulder. In the end, the rotator cuff is in good shape and this is largely re-education) are causing a time crunch. Mostly, though, I have been busy with my decision to leave Israel. It is not a decision if there is only one viable choice or deciding factor. Thanks to tremendous help from friends on both sides of the sea, I will be Oregon-bound in less than six weeks. In the meantime, there is much to do, but mostly, people with whom I want to spend time. On Sunday evening, Jutta is coming up from Cairo!

Ages ago, I lived with writer Gregory Manin. He spoke to me once about his approach to the alchemy of transforming life into art and the necessity of letting time work its magic on the raw ingredients of experience and feeling. (Of course, perhaps he was just being polite as I imagine I probably had asked him if he ever wrote about me). I do not know what to say about the subtle, inner homecoming which has taken place for me during these past four years in Israel. I only know that it has not taken me in any of the directions I would have predicted or consciously desired. Situations, events (terrorism, war, strikes, roommates, health and the faint indirections of the heart), my work and my studies here already seem to have been largely a backdrop for this transmutation. I cannot imagine my life, however, without the catalyst and the blessing of friendships I hold so dear.

Hail, Abu Hassan! This is everything humus should be!
Check out this yummy food blog!

Last week, Avi took a day free from school and work and we set off on a trip. Ostensibly, we were headed to Jerusalem. While I love to go to the City, I mostly just wanted to enjoy the day with my friend, especially not knowing how many more we will have together for the time being. We found ourselves going south into Bat Yam instead of east, up to Jerusalem. Rather than get tangled up in the industrial jungle of Holon, we doubled back through Jaffa and stopped for a late breakfast at Abu Hassan's. (Such humus and fuul I surely will not find in Portland!). Eventually, with bellies full, we were on the road again.

We stopped along the way at the Trappist Abbey of Latroun which is in the foothills, midway between Jerusalem and the coast. The French Abbaye Notre Dame def Sept-Fons sent monks to the Land of Israel in 1889 to establish a contemplative monastic community. One hundred and nineteen years later, Latroun is still primarily a French community. They support themselves by producing honey, olive oil and a variety of wines: Gewurztraminer, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, and a Muscat à petit grains (a kind of Muscat from Alsace).

Latroun

~~Thomas Merton~~ Itai Michael

The church is elegantly austere inside. What can I say? Stone really works for me. We arrived in time for Mass. Chant and incense mingled, drifting upwards. I'd like to think that their celebration of the liturgy is this beautiful everyday. It was, however, the Feast of the Ascension. In many ways, this is a picture of my life: the mystery mix of faith, music, languages, intentional community, gardening; the family of choice, the intense yearning and the solace of silence.

Eric was here the other day. He's living in Haifa, but had been camping in the desert. He asked me if I had some Walt Whitman for him, but I came up empty-handed. Walt was gone before the first stone was layed at Latroun. A number of years ago, I translated some of my favorites into Hebrew. Fortunately, only the English remains.

Among the men and women the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
any nearer than I am, Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me.

Ah lover and perfect equal,
I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,
And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.

Speak low, if you speak love

2008-04-23T08:42:07Z

Unlike my lucky friend, Elke, who is forever winning contests, I just won what might be my first. (Okay, so, I did win a music composition competition once, but that was back practically in the Dark Ages). I was listening to Dr. Paul Camerata's SQPN podcast, SaintCast about "all things Saint-like." He has a regular segment called Saint Jeopardy in which he offers clues and some lucky listener comes up with the winning "question," usually in the form of 'Who is Saint X?' This time, I realized that I actually knew the answer.

The clue was that the "famous person" (ie., not a saint) was born on St. George's Feast Day. (You remember St. George and the dragon, right?). This "famous person" was quoted as having penned these lines:

O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on.

Now, you're probably saying, "way too easy! That's Shakespeare, (Measure for Measure, Act 2, Scene 2). I read it in high school!" Yep! I didn't win the big bucks, but I may have scored a SaintCast T-shirt...

When St. George's mom became a widow, she returned home to 4th century Palestine and her hometown of Lydda -- known today as Lod. She raised the future St. George near the site of the future Ben Gurion International Airport. Her son grew up to be a Roman soldier like his dead dad, and a dragon-slayer to boot. George was tortured and executed on this date in 303 while still in his 20s, not for killing a fire-breathing reptile, but for becoming a Christian.

Below is a clip from the 1948 film of the 1943 Broadway musical, One Touch of Venus written by Ogden Nash and Kurt Weill. The Broadway production featured Mary Martin (who I saw as Peter Pan on the first TV program I ever watched), with choreography by Agnes de Milles. The film version stars 26 year old Ava Gardner and 30 year old Robert Walker. Two years later, he suddenly died in rather mysterious circumstances "after being administered an injection of sodium amytal by two doctors who appeared at his house." (If someone in a white coat comes to your house with a needle, slam the door!) So, what is the connection between St. George, Shakespeare and this clip? Today is St. George's Day and William Shakespeare is 444 years old. In (Much Ado about Nothing, Act II, Scene I), he gives Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon the famous line that Ogden Nash borrowed:

Don Pedro: Speak low, if you speak love.
Balthazar: Well, I would you did like me.
Margaret:  So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many ill qualities.
Balthazar: Which is one?
Margaret:  I say my prayers aloud.
Balthazar: I love you the better; the hearers may cry Amen.
Margaret:  God match me with a good dancer!
Balthazar: Amen.

Cyclops in Love

2008-04-16T17:05:24Z

A couple of hours ago, I watched the reception at the White House for Pope Benedict XVI. There was more than a touch of Americana, with a Revolutionary fife and drum corps on parade. Kathleen Battle was in good voice, singing to the accompaniment of harp. The brilliant brass fanfare made me think how little we hear this music today and what a shame that is. Growing up, there were loads of band concerts in the parks. Does that still happen? There were short welcoming speeches offered, first by President Bush (I wasn't quite prepared to hear him try his tongue at Latin: Pax tecum!) and then, by the Holy Father. After a rousing Battle Hymn of the Republic and Happy Birthday, (the Pope turned 81 today), they adjourned to the Oval Office. At that point, I went back to reading Ovid's tale of a cyclops in love while I waited:

Unum est in media lumen mihi fronte,
sed instar ingentis clipei. quid?
non haec omnia magnus Sol videt e caelo?
Soli tamen unicus orbis.

My forehead with a single eye is fill'd,
Round, as a ball, and ample, as a shield.
The glorious lamp of Heav'n, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye; and she's content with one.

(Metamorphoses, Book XIII)

Why do I have the feeling that, despite years of literary Arabic, I still feel more at home with Latin? Later, I got a chance to see what I had been waiting for: the Pope-mobile in action. If they painted it kelly green, it would sort of look like a John Deere tractor.

The Mercedes model has been retired, but the new one
which rolled down Pennsylvannia Ave looks more or less the same.

A thing of beauty!

Life Imitates

2008-04-14T20:38:57Z

After work today, I jumped on the train to go home. Why I am going to work, I don't know. Yes, I do. Money. I am a prostitute. Okay, make that an editor/translator who's right shoulder hurts like the dickens. It seems only a little better and, while the pain is tolerable during the daytime, the last week of nights has been misery. I don't think it's the time of day as much as the agony of assuming any position approximating horizontal. I've only slept a few hours, but I've sluiced out my tear ducts, and have discovered that after all my years of Zen practice, I can sleep sitting up - which is quite handy just now.

Somewhere between the university and my stop, I fell asleep on the train and ended up at the airport. I had to catch the next train back from whence I came. Okay, that has something to do with the bi-directional nature of train tracks, I guess. I decided once I boarded, however, to remain standing and not chance waking up in Nahariya. I met a lovely guy from the Congo who stands more than two meters tall. (I'd give him 6'6" or 6'7"). When I remembered that it had to be either the République démocratique du Congo or the République du Congo and switched to French, he seemed much more at ease and not so impossibly tall.

I came home for an hour, took a cold shower (it was over a 100 degrees outside and I was heading back out for a check up), and then, caught a bus into town to see the orthopedist. He spent a lot of time explaining my X-ray. It's not clear if my rotator cuff is actually torn; the inflamation has to subside and then, an ultra-sound will be done. He seemed to think that the calcification of an old injury was the culprit (my Australia). He gave me meds to try for a week, and I will report back on Friday. I don't want to jinx myself, but before seeing the doctor today, I could basically pat my belly and now I can raise my arms into a credible 5th position. I think I may sleep tonight! After the doctor, it was time to head home. I walked down Bugroshov Street towards the sea, and then, headed south until I got to the Opera and caught a bus.

The people who take bus #16 from the center of Tel Aviv south are mostly headed home to our neighborhood which has its own character. My neighbors are Jews from Yemen (singer Ofra Haza was from here), Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt, Iran, Russia and the rest of the former Soviet Union (think of all the Stans in Central Asia); Arabs, students, Chabadniks; refugees from Sudan and other places in Africa; foreign workers from China, Thailand, and the Philippines. In short, we're a bit of a mix. When I hopped on the bus, I knew it would be crowded (sardines have nothing on us at rush hour), but I didn't know that the whole bus adventure would all be set to music today. The driver put on his favorite Yishai Levy tape and cranked up the volume. Way up. At first, there was some foot tapping, but by the first chorus all of us were singing. I mean, everybody. Even babies stopped nursing in order to chime in. People were dancing in the aisle. Folks who had never heard of Yishai Levy suddenly discovered that they actually knew every word to his song, Romantic Dance ריקוד רומנטי rikud romanti. "I don't understand how I fell in love with you, girl/One of your arrows hit me in the target/ and suddenly, I'm addicted to you - how did that happen?/You flipped my life over, from quiet to storm" True, not finely crafted literature, but we belted it out, nevertheless! It was one of those bonding experiences when life imitates...well, a musical, I guess!

Can you smell the cigar? It's 11:30 pm now and the temperature has dropped back down into the 80s. Time for bed and perchance to dream ~ horizontally.

Up, up and away

2008-04-10T14:26:31Z

I keep promising myself that I am no longer going to check the news. Oh, maybe I should be responsible and stay informed ~ but I don't want to hear about wars and rumors of Iranian nuclear holocausts to come. I don't want to hear about our former rapist president, or, from across the pond, a peanut farmer promising to take off his ex-president hat (how does one temporarily stop being an ex-President of the United States of America?!) in order to fly to Syria to hang with the leader of a certain terrorist organization. Did I need to know about yesterday's attack in which four Gazan terrorists crossed into Israel, killed two civilian workers at the border crossing station which supplies most of Gaza's fuel and then, tried to flee back to Gaza? Now, I am half expecting to read a headline like "Israel Tightens Siege on Gaza: Humanitarian Crisis Feared." Good grief.

The Israeli Ambassador to the UN, Danny Gillerman summed it up like this: "In the past 24 hours alone, more than 127 trucks, carrying medical equipment, diapers and basic food products were transferred from Israel to the Palestinian population in Gaza, via these crossing points, while at the same time, more than 50 rockets and mortars were fired at Israel, in addition to the murder of two Israelis at the fuel terminal."

Nope! No more news for me, thank you. I'm going to be an ostrich from now on. Yes, sir! Except then I would miss fun stuff like this story (I love the now only slightly futuristic renderings at the beginning of the clip):

"It's a shock no one thought of it before, but a new development to provide green electricity could change the way the world powers itself. An engineering team from the Technion in Haifa put together a cutting edge project that places solar panels on helium balloons. The balloons are then placed on a cable, and can be stacked one of top of the other. Prototypes are rough now, but the design should be easy to streamline. Designers think the first models could be available in the next year - with each balloon providing the same amount of electricity as 25 square meters of solar panels. That's enough to power a washer and dryer for an entire year!"

If you'll hold my hand
We'll chase your dream across the sky
For we can fly!
We can fly!

Hunt & Peck

2008-04-07T08:29:50Z

This will be brief as I am typing with my left hand. I probably should have been a lefty all along, of course, and would have been if only there had been one more pair of green-handled scissors in my kindergarten class. Friday, about 3 a.m., I woke up to the worst pain I have ever known and found that I coundn't move my right arm. Full stop. By Sunday morning, I was going out of my skull. I went to the doctor. She thought that I may have dislocated my arm and sent me to the מוקד לרפואה דחופה moked which is like the ER staffed with specialists. I was promptly dispatched to orthopedics, the to x-ray and then, back for treatment. Twenty minutes after the x-ray upstairs, I was admiring how photogenic I am on the inside. The doctor explained that the Strait of Gilbraltar was a big tear through a tendon in my right shoulder and that what looked ever so much like Australia was a continent of calcium. The combined result was pain. His temporary solution involved a very large needle and a drug called Diprospan. I would make a really bad drug addict. I left in a sling. My boss at the university asked me to come to work even if I am typing with just one hand. So, I am off!

Pretty Darn Quick!

2008-04-01T12:45:09Z

Happy Birthday to P.D.Q. Bach who was born on this day in 1742. He was the 21st of J.S. Bach's 20 children. Like his illustrious father, PDQ died at the age of 65. I had hoped to make an in-house recording of his "O.K. Chorale" from the “Toot” Suite for calliope, four hands, S. 212. Short one calliope, (always an unfair disadvantage!), I momentarily thought about attempting his Art of the Ground Round for three baritones and discontinuo, S. 1.19/lb ~ which, of course, doesn't require a calliope ~ but what self-respecting vegan would make such a choice? I certainly considered a rendition I've been working up of PDQ's wonderfully woody Lip my Reeds (Prelude and Fugue for Four Bassoons), but it reminded me a tad too much of Bush the Elder. That realization, though, pointed me to the obvious choice: a few moments of silence and a bit of lull. Happy April 1st!

Twenty-nine years ago, I was working at l'Arche in Trosly-Breuil, (about 90 km north of Paris), a community founded by Jean Vanier and Père Thomas Philippe. There in France, I discovered that, instead of April Fool's Day, they celebrated Poisson d'avril (April Fish!) by coloring paper fish and attempting to unobtrusively affixe them with Scotch tape to the backs of unsuspecting "victims," who walk about the village modeling these fine fish ~ and wondering why people were snickering. I had become friendly with an elderly Catholic bishop who had chosen to hang his mitre at l'Arche and retire in the village. Some people in the community may have felt I wasn't appropriately respectful. After all, I shook his hand rather than kissing his ring, I never used the formal vous form (which I hadn't learned, yet) and I sometimes even touched his arm when we were talking. He was a really lovely guy and because he was so newly arrived, I was no longer the new kid on the block. I made him a special fish, hoping it would make him feel more a part of the l'Arche community in Trosly. The bishop's fish said: "archevêque" (archbishop). I was really shooting for "l'Evêque de l'Arche" (the Bishop of l'Arche...oops!). When I slapped it on his back, my l'Arche friends were properly scandalized, but the bishop thought it hilarious.

Those were gentle, beautiful days. It was there that I first met my dear friend, Armel. Jean-Baptiste taught me the subtleties of le jeu de boules, I joined the local choir, walked for hours in the forests along the Oise River and explored the little town of Creil, the city of Compiègne (where Joan of Arc had been imprisonned), and Senlis (where the 1966 classic King of Hearts, starring Alan Bates as Private Charles Plumpick was filmed). I also played piano in a trio with a flutist and an oboist. Where does the time go? It all passes pretty darn quick(ly)! Like P.D.Q. Bach, though, I am more alive today than ever before, even if I'm still coughing up my lungs! Well, Geoff suggests pineapple juice for peak pulmonary performance. So, I'm off on a quest for some jus d'ananas.

As the hart panteth after the water brooks

2008-03-31T19:33:42Z

Despite age, agues, and the tyranny of geographical divide, it is joy to find someone else pointed in the same direction at the same moment. Thank you, foucaultonacid for the Colm Tóibín piece in The New York Times Review of Books. Today was another day of coughing up my lungs. Prayer, poetry and the bottomless cup of tea were my chief consolations.

Hart Crane's Repose of Rivers read by Adam Fitzgerald

Repose of Rivers

by Hart Crane (July 21, 1899 – April 27, 1932)

The willows carried a slow sound,

A sarabande the wind mowed on the mead.

I could never remember

That seething, steady leveling of the marshes

Till age had brought me to the sea.

Flags, weeds. And remembrance of steep alcoves

Where cypresses shared the noon’s

Tyranny; they drew me into hades almost.

And mammoth turtles climbing sulphur dreams

Yielded, while sun-silt rippled them

Asunder ...

How much I would have bartered! the black gorge

And all the singular nestings in the hills

Where beavers learn stitch and tooth.

The pond I entered once and quickly fled—

I remember now its singing willow rim.

And finally, in that memory all things nurse;

After the city that I finally passed

With scalding unguents spread and smoking darts

The monsoon cut across the delta

At gulf gates ... There, beyond the dykes

I heard wind flaking sapphire, like this summer,

And willows could not hold more steady sound.

Chava Alberstein: Human Nature

2008-03-30T17:05:01Z

Chava Alberstein is a marvel. She was born in Poland in 1947 and came to Israel at the age of 4. Alberstein has been performing since she was 17 and sings in Hebrew, Yiddish and Arabic. Her first album came out in 1967. This new recording will be her 60th album! I think her voice only gets better.

Her new album is coming out at the end of the week. In honor of this, Ynet is posting a song everyday on their Hebrew site. Perhaps it will also be posted on their English-language site eventually, but why wait? Open this and click on the white arrow in the red circle to hear the title track, טבע האדם Teva ha-Adam, (Human Nature). In the last 5 years, she's put out an album every year. On this album, Alberstein is joined by Avi Liebowitz, who did much of the composing and arranging. Nadav Leviatan contributed the lyrics.

טבע האדם Human Nature

בפרברי הכרך
In the suburbs of a large city
בבית-קפה נידח
In a remote café
יושבת מאוד שקטה
I sit ever so quietly
שומעת אותם
And listen to them
מתלוננים שהם
Complaining that they are
בני תמותה
Mere mortals

מתבוננת מהצד
I watch from the side
בטבע האדם
Human nature
טבע האדם
Human nature
שומעת אותם
I hear them
מבכים את הזמן
Lamenting the time
שניתן להם במשורה
Given to them so sparingly

אבל מה הם עושים
But what are they doing?
אבל מה הם עושים
But what are they doing
על פי רוב כלום, או רע
By most accounts, nothing – or worse

מתבוננת מהצד
I watch from the side
בטבע האדם
Human nature
טבע האדם
Human nature
אדישות מסביבי
Apathy all around
ואני שרויה בה
And I am soaked in it

מביטה באיש עובר
I look at the guy passing
שלא רואה את האחר
Who does not see the other
זה טבע האדם
It's human nature
טבע האדם
Human nature

"I'm Just One Person" ~ The Power (and Fun!!) of Symbolic Acts

2008-03-24T10:52:23Z

Do you know about this world-wide event? It started in Sydney, Australia and is spreading fast. It is symbolic, but sometimes symbols are powerful. It could be an occasion for a romantic, candle light dinner...

Lights Out for Planet Earth
http://www.earthhour.org/

Earth Hour, 29 March 2008 (this Saturday night) from 8-9 pm
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_nYal31Pu0

In Israel, we're doing the event on Thursday night instead of on Saturday night (because of Shabbat, I guess). http://www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-3519741,00.html

Orion

2008-03-18T15:19:58Z

Maybe the stitches from last week's surgery dissolved a bit too early. My chest split back open. Yikes! Except for looking like a gory science project, it is clean and doesn't seem to be infected. Thanks to nomadmatan's preparedness, I had some butterfly bandages to apply.

I have been listening to others and, most of all, to myself speak of weariness, disillusionments, false starts, duplicities, impossible passions, futilities, and losses. All these may be true facts of our lives. I won't deny that. It is that there just has to be more. What has been lost and what have we just let go of? I long for a world which honors kindness, common sense, goodness, service, awe, self-control, grace, listening, humility, slowness, integrity, courage, sincerity, hope, loyalty, honesty and faith. Maybe not in that order! The circumstances may be out of my hands but not the choice of how to respond.

I did my basic training in the IDF under the winter skies and often peeked up at the heavens to see Orion. The nightly dose of awe saw me through a lot!

NASA's photo of the day

Tepeyac

2008-03-16T06:43:05Z

I dream all the time, but lately, my dreams are so incredibly vivid. Some days ago, I dreamed of going to Mexico City with my friend, Antonio. He took me to a place that, in the dream, he called Tepeyac. In the dream, I knew that it was a Nahuatl (an indigenous, Aztec language) place name. I also realized that I don't know Nahuatl and thought, "How strange! Wait! Is this a dream?" When I turned around, my father ז"ל , who I have not dreamed of since he passed away more than 9 years ago, was smiling at me, saying "It's time to come home." It didn't even occur to me that he could mean that it was time to die. I was sure he meant that it was time to high-tail it back to Oregon.

The name, Tepeyac was not familiar to me. I thought I'd probably made it us. We all know some Nahuatl words, though: avocado, cocoa, chili, chocolate, coyote, guacamole, mesquite, mole (sauce), peyote, tamale and tomato I got curious, though, and googled Tepeyac. It turns out to be the Nahuatl name for the place where Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin saw Our Lady of Guadalupe in 1531. What can I say? Wikipedia has a way of jogging my memory. In the summer of 2000, I went to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, (built on a hill called Tepeyac) with my friend, Antonio. I wonder why this all surfaced now and in such detail.

Idus Martiae

2008-03-15T11:10:50Z

This was nabbed from fetteredwolf The A# (14.9kHz) was physically painful and the B (15.8kHz) left me feeling nauseous - but I feel young again!

You are in your twenties

You can still hear reasonably well and you can play this without my old fart colleagues hearing it which makes you feel kinda good.

The highest pitched ultrasonic mosquito ringtone that I can hear is 15.8kHz

Find out which ultrasonic ringtones you can hear!

“Mosquitoes remind us that we are not as high up on the food chain as we think.” ~Tom Wilson

Jerusalem

2008-03-12T09:00:51Z

Knowing that I would be having some surgery, I arranged to take a few days off work. Thank God, everything went smoothly Monday, and I was able to sleep through the night without too much discomfort. Yesterday morning, I jumped out of bed and realizing how good I felt, I decided to head up to Jerusalem.

When I arrived, I walked from the new city to the Old City, poked about here and there in the Armenian Quarter, had lunch in the Jewish Quarter, walked to Mt. Zion, took a peek at the Tomb of King David and saw the Church of the Dormition (which is built on the spot where Mary, the mother of Jesus, lived and died - or "fell asleep" and was assumed up into heaven, explaining the name of the church and abbey).

One of the side altars

The peak of the Church of the Dormition

A detail of the stonework from the main entrance of
the Church of the Dormition

Then, forgetting how tempting gravity can make going down hill look, I walked down into the Valley of Kidron. "When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley. On the other side there was an olive grove, and he and his disciples went into it." (John 18:1).

Ancient tombs and more modern graves in the Valley of Kidron
The pointy-roofed building is the Tomb of Zechariah
(actually a monument, not a tomb, dated to the 1st century BCE)

Between the Old City and the mountain to the east (mostly a graveyard) is Kidron. It's called נחל קדרון Nahal Kidron in Hebrew and وادي الجوز Wadi al-Joz (Valley of the Nuts) in Arabic. I followed it from the south, near the City of David, pausing to watch a teenage bucket brigade at an archeological site, to the north, soon coming to the Garden of Gethsemane and the Basilica of the Agony which was built over the rock tradition holds that Jesus prayed by in the Garden.

Ancient olive tree

Garden of Gethsemane

Immediately to the south of the Garden of Gethsemane is the Basilica of the Agony, also called the Church of All Nations. Built between 1919-1924 on the site of two previous churches, (a 4th century Byzantine basilica and a 12th century Crusader chapel), the current structure enshrines a section of bedrock where Jesus is said to have prayed before his arrest.

Church of All Nations

The exposed bedrock where, according to tradition,
Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane

The domes of the nearby Russian Orthodox church, the Church of Mary Magdalene, were gleaming in the spring sun light. It's just up the slope in a pine grove.

Then, I slowly walked back up to the Old City, entering through Lions Gate. I always kind of wondered why it was called "Lion's Gate." Maybe I've never entered through this gate because there are pairs of lions facing off on each side of the gate that are hard to miss. It was constructed in 1538-39 by the Ottomans. In Arabic, it is called Our Lady's Gate. The Gate is located on the eastern wall and marks the beginning of the traditional observance of the last walk of Jesus from prison to execution, the Via Dolorosa. The wall is 15 meters/49 feet tall and 3 meters/10 feet thick.

Give your enemies a warm welcome - boiling oil!

Check out the lions!

I walked much of this route with my mom 23 years ago when she came to visit me. Her memory is a blessing. I walked back through the Old City, out the Damascus Gate, back to the new city and home to Tel Aviv. Awesome day!

Wounded by the Arrow of Beauty

2008-03-10T19:40:27Z

The day arrived. I was scheduled to have surgery this afternoon. I was showered and dressed by 7 a.m., and sitting in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea as I listened to the world wake up when my landlord rapped on the door to let me know that I had a notice from the post office that something was waiting for me. Right away I went to pick it up, thinking I might beat the crowds - but still had to wait a few minutes shy of an hour. My turn came and I spent all of 30 seconds at the counter. My friend in Germany, Elkes sent me a beautiful scarf she'd knitted!

Last week, I mentioned to my buddy, Avi how much I missed having a garden. He and his pop were out at a nursery near Rehovot a few days ago and then, he showed up chez moi with a flat of herbs for my window!

Sage and Rosemary

Mint and Louisa.

An arial view of hyssop

Here is the forest view of the hyssop (it's about 30 cm/a foot high now)

Having met several times with the surgeon before hand, I knew that the experience would be mostly about waiting. He advised me to bring along a good book. Don't ask me why, but I chose a slim, red volume by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) called Unterwegs zu Jesus Christus. I read the second chapter, "Wounded by the Arrow of Beauty" while I waited

To my relief, they didn't knock me out. This way, I got to watch and the surgeon didn't seem to mind my questions. In fact, the only thing I felt really were the multiple injections. He took a sharpie and drew on my chest, explaining that he was going to "go wide" to make sure he got whatever he might find. He had a nurse shave half my chest while he organized the music (apparently, the good doctor likes to boogey to "Stayin' Alive!" while he works) and then, he scrubbed in. I was painted with betadine wash and draped. With no further ado, a scalpel appeared. He worked for about twenty minutes and the nurse dabbed valiantly. Then, they put something on my arm which I understood was a ground, and brought out an electric needle to do some cauterizing (which does not smell very nice!). At the end, he took a long time and lots of suture to sew me up. Off came the gloves with a snap and the nurse started bandaging me up. As soon as I got dressed, I asked to see what they cut out. I'm curious like that. Now, at 9:30 pm, the local is wearing off and I'm a bit sore, but it's "have a cup of tea" sore, so, no complaints. It's still a wee bit early but I'm fading. I have taken tomorrow off to rest and plan to return to work on Wednesday.

Do I sound relieved?!

Name that Country!

2008-03-02T11:49:59Z

Tips I learned along the way: Don't bother to capitalize. If you get it right, the country name disappears immediately. I roamed geographically, thought of places I've traveled, places friends come from. I was better at Central and South America, Africa and the Middle East than I was with Europe, the "Stans" (Central Asia) or Oceania. Don't get stuck! Try the alphabet! Remember to breathe!!

PS. I discovered in the results that there are countries I never heard of.

Zen of it

2008-02-27T18:30:35Z

Wednesday. I was up about 5. I hate to climb out of bed so early, but glad that I physically can these days. FM sometimes makes for extreme slowness in the a.m. Brachot, blessings ~ from that first moment of consciousness (Modeh ani… hopah! I'm back in my body) to planting my feet on the ground, and on throughout the moments of my day make a real difference. For a long time, I figured that this was sort of like a Zen mindfulness practice, but often, especially on the days when I'm just hanging on, whispered words of gratitude for the little things opens up doors off the dark, narrow passage into the light and spaciousness of intentional act.

The surgery got put off for two weeks. I don't feel one way or the other about that – just exhausted from worrying. Is it cancer again? Whatever it is, in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. It's just after 8 pm now. In the last 5 hours, Hamas fired 46 Qassam rockets from Gaza into Israel at civilian targets. This time, they hit a factory in Sderot. Then, they hit Sapir College, killing a student (a father of four), and wounding two others. They also hit very near the hospital in Ashkelon.

After hearing the news, I went for a walk to the shuq, the outdoor market, and got some vegetables to pickle: turnips, cauliflower and carrots. I added jalapeño peppers for the bite and sweet red (not bell) peppers for the brilliant color, lemons, red onion, vinegar and sea salt. Oh, and a couple of beets to turn everything magenta. They are beautiful together, sitting covered in a big glass bowl on my counter.