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Published: October 26th 2011
After the better part of two months getting settled into a routine, we spent the last two weeks during the Chagim (Jewish Holidays) free of routine. For two weeks the boys went to bed way too late, and then slept well into the mornings. But after a challenging month of new beginnings at school, music lessons, and chugim (extracurricular stuff) the boys well-earned their break. We did a number of day trips around central Israel, but always returned to our own beds at night – except for the first two days of Succoth which we spent at a kibbutz guest house. “B’sach ha’kol” (overall) our trips were worthwhile and enjoyed by all.
Our two weeks began with Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) - which was not a highlight for me - though I suppose one shouldn’t view Yom Kippur in the context of trip highlights. (For the kids, by contrast, as Aimee writes below, it was.) The day before Yom Kippur we visited Jerusalem's most religious neighbourhood, May'a Sh'arim, which is populated almost exclusively by Hasidic Jews. We ventured to May'a Sh'arim to view an ancient cermony called "Kaparot" in which individuals spin live chickens over their heads as a
way of throwing off their sins. No really, I kid you not. This custom has been largely discarded by pretty much all but the ultra ultra Orthodox. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your prospective, we arrived too late to see this rather quaint ceremony.
Back in our 'hood. ... As everywhere, synagogues are full for the opening prayers of YK – the Kol Nidre service – so we ended up in the auxiliary service in the basement of Yedidya synagogue (a synagogue we’d been to and enjoyed a few times already). Feeling trapped in a room with a low ceiling, harsh florescent lighting, poor ventilation, no seat, and awful acoustics, I quickly escaped to a nearby park bench at the first opportunity. Which was not a great alterative on the first of Jerusalem’s chilly evenings. Only now have I finally shaken the after-affects of my introduction to how cold an early autumn evening in Jerusalem can be.
Aimee here …..
Not affected by low ceilings, harsh florescent lighting, poor ventilation, no seat (actually, I snagged one), and awful acoustics, I sat and stood through the Kol Nidre services which usually end around 9:30 or 10 pm in
Vancouver. Being in a Jewish state is different. The Sunday before Yom Kippur, while the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was still enjoying long evenings of daylight, Israel set the clocks back an hour so that it would FEEL like we had one hour less to fast on Yom Kippur. So, instead of starting around 7 pm like we are used to in Vancouver, we had our pre-fast meal at 3:30 and were in synagogue by 4:30. By 6:30, services were over and we still had a long evening in front of us with no food or drink. So what does one do on a nice (though chilly) evening after the shops and streets have all closed down? Bike and scooter of course.
Ezra’s friend David, along with his mom and sister, met up with us in front of our building for an evening of biking. Though not usually something we do on Yom Kippur, Ezra assured us that this is what EVERYONE does on the evening of Yom Kippur, even people who are way more religious than us (like David). So while Fred crawled under the covers with a 24 hour flu, the boys, Rosie and I headed
to Emek Refaim.
Emek Rafaim is the busy street 2 blocks from our apartment full of shops, restaurants and cars. Yom Kippur night, however, the Emek belonged to foot traffic, with people walking, biking and scootering as far as the eye could see. Both Sherri (David’s mom) and I met people we knew as we walked along, and even Rosie met up with Booba, her labradoodle friend. So much for the contemplative atmosphere one is supposed to feel during Yom Kippur – this was a party. I wanted to keep walking, but after about 20 minutes the novelty wore off and the boys were ready to come home and play card games until bedtime.
The next morning, with Fred still under the covers, I took Ezra and Adin back to Yedidia synagogue so they could play with David some more and I could try and get into the Yom Kippur spirit, a bit. I managed to get a seat upstairs where it was more spacious and the acoustics were better. But without an English translation of the prayers, I found myself more sleepy than inspired. After a couple of hours, I took the boys home so they could
eat lunch and I could feel hungry and thirsty.
After lunch, Ezra and Adin put on their roller hockey skates and headed back to Emek Refaim. This time, the street was almost empty. No cars, no bikes, and just a few walkers. Watching them race up and down this usually busy street was as much a thrill for me as it was for them. Adin decided that they were going to do an “obstacle course” and set the route which took about 45 minutes. By the end, they were hot, thirsty and ready to come inside.
One more set of prayers to go, and I was determined to find some connection to the holiday. After all, I am in Jerusalem. I had heard from a couple of people that there was an alternative service at the Nature Museum, just across from Fred’s bakery. So I left Fred, still under the covers, and headed over with Ezra and Adin. Under a canopy surrounded by trees, I found a diverse group of about 30 people just beginning the final prayer of Yom Kippur, Neila, when it is believed that Heaven’s Gates are about to close, and people have one last
chance to reach into their hearts and souls and pray that God will grant them another year of life. This service inspired Leonard Cohen’s song “Who by Fire”.
This group was totally into it, and even though I did not have the necessary prayer book, one didn’t need it with this crowd. Their Rabbi, Ruth Gan Kagan, grew up in an Orthodox home in Jerusalem, but later in life discovered Jewish Renewal and Rabbi Zalman. Even though I feel that my renewal days are behind me, I enjoyed her direction, and for the first and only time during the holidays, felt some spirituality. The boys, however, were not as excited by this service. Plus there were no kids their age to play with. So this being Israel where kids walk around on their own, they headed home together.
Just before it was over, I noticed a familiar face, and sure enough, it was a woman by the name of Lisa who I had shared a tent with at Camp Biluim in 1977. Since then Lisa lived here for 20 years, then lived in Vernon, BC, studied Sufism for about 7 years, and finally returned to Jerusalem a couple
of years ago to teach Judaism to Arab students in an English speaking school in Ramallah, a town in the West Bank. She said they have lots of questions about things they see Jews doing all the time, and loves her work. We’re now Facebook friends, and I’m curious to learn more about the work she’s doing.
All in all, an interesting, and diverse Yom Kippur.
Back to Fred...
I did learn one thing from being ill on Yom Kippur – there’s no easier way to have an easy fast. With absolutely no appetite at the end of YK, I had to force myself to break the fast. After the break-fast Aimee and the boys headed out into the night to join the throngs of people who had now put down their bikes, scooters and roller blades, and were already setting up their Succoth (outdoor booths). Aimee and the boys joined our Vancouver-Jerusalem neighbour Rafael Richmond in setting up his Succah next door to us. Rafael kindly invited us to share his Succoth throughout the holiday. It would seem that most Succah-erecting Israelis use Succah kits comprised of a light metal frame, canvas walls, heavy synthetic straps
that wrap around the interior of the Succah (to make it Kosher – don’t ask), and palm fronds on the roof. Egypt, which sold the palm fronds to Israel for decades, cut off the supply this year (thanks to the new more progressive regime in the country), thereby depriving Egyptian peasants of a much-needed source of income, and leaving Israel to scramble for alternative sources of palm fronds, which they got from Hamas. Isn’t peace great?!
The day after Yom Kippur, Sunday October 9th, we did the first of our day trips, which took us on a loop to Tel Aviv and back. First stop, the “Bullet Factory” - formally the Ayalon Institute. During the lead-up to Israel’s war of Independence in1948, the British colonial government prohibited pre-Israel’s Jews from making or possessing arms and ammunition. Punishment for such law-breakers was severe. With the British ultimately going to leave the Jews of Palestine to the mercies of the well-armed local Arabs and the invading armies of the surrounding Arab countries who had publicly threatened to throw the Jews into the Mediterranean Sea, the Jews desperately needed the wherewithal to defend themselves. So, in 1945 the Jewish government-in-waiting set up
a secret bullet factory in a kibbutz south-east of Tel Aviv next to the town of Rehovot. To help conceal the sound, smell, and comings and goings of the factory, the Jews build the factory underground below a kibbutz laundry and bakery. After Israel’s creation in 1948 the factory was abandoned and forgotten until the 1970s when it was rediscovered and later turned into a museum. The teenagers who had worked in the factory produced 40,000 bullets a day (at its peak of operations) and more than two million 9 mm bullets. They were sworn to secrecy at the time, and apparently none revealed the factory’s existence for decades until one wrote an autobiography in the 1970s which described the factory. The public was initially skeptical until the author and the media returned to the site to find it largely untouched in the intervening years.
By the time we emerged from under the ground everyone was ravenous. So we drove into nearby Rehovot looking for food. A glitzy new-looking downtown did not fill us with hope of finding something that anyone would be happy with. We circled once. We circled a second time. Nothing but over-priced generic looking restaurants.
We then turned onto a side-street next to the downtown core to circle back for a third look. Eureka – a kiosk on wheels with tables in front filled with very local looking people. Aimee called out to the proprietor – “Ha’im yaysh te’uda” (do you have a kosher certification)? No, he called back, but everything’s kosher. The diners – some wearing kippot - all shouted out their agreement. So we pulled over and walked back. (In Israel restaurants have to pay for certification so some restaurants, which are indeed kosher, chose not to pay and locals who are kosher will know whether they can eat there or not.)
Adin had a giant schnitzel (pretty much the only authentic Israeli food he can stomach at this point) in a long roll, and Ezra had a giant kabob. The kabob looked so good that when Ezra couldn’t finish I had my first beef in over 30 years. I know I’m a hypocrite, but I loved it. And have since been thinking of ways to get back to Rehovot for another.
From Rehovot we traveled to Tel Aviv and Israel’s only glass supply shop, where Aimee stocked up on coloured
glass rods for the next few months. The store was very professional, and supplied everything Aimee needed. I was just nervous that the boys would knock over something that would, in turn, knock over everything else in the store. Fortunately, Adin sat himself on the floor and played on his DSI, leaving me free to blanket Ezra with one on one coverage. Happily we left the store in one piece.
Next, we headed to Givat Yeshayahu (half way between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem and a little to the south) where we visited our friends Ayelet and Mi’iri at their vineyard. Best of all for Ezra, Mi’iri served us all, Ezra included, cups of hot sweet coffee and mamtakim out in the fields. We all picked grapes then joined them for supper. Ezra even helped Mi’iri make the pizza. And Mi’iri served Ezra a full cup of wine. No questions asked. I think Mi’iris is Ezra’s favorite Israeli.
Tuesday, October 11th, Ezra spent the day with his scout group,Tsofim. We packed Ezra with food, drink and treats for the day. The supply sheet provided by the Tsofim listed “mamtakim” (sweets) but specified that the amount should be “lo mugzum” –
“not excessive.” So we gave Ezra a modest selection of mamtakim. When I delivered Ezra to the bus pick-up spot at 6:00 a.m. he and his buddy Eido sat down on a bench and compared mamtakim. Turns out Israelis have a rather generous view of what constitutes “lo mugzum” when it comes to mamtakim. Eido kept pulling out more and more large packages of mamtakum from his pack. Ezra’s eyes grew wider and wider as the pile on Eidoe’s lap grew taller and taller. I felt a little sad for Ezra even though he had plenty of sweets. Turns out the kids spent much of the day trading mumtakim. Ezra even ate some of his real food as well. In between, the Tsofim spent a day hiking somewhere near Beth Shemesh which is about a 30 minutes drive south-west of Jerusalem; Ezra was able to recall the details of the mamtakim with considerably more precision than the details of the hike itself. The bus returned the kids around 15 hours later at 9:00 p.m. Though always the trouper - Ezra reported the day was good – I felt a little more sadness to hear that he spent the ride home
alone, seated next to someone’s pack.
While Ezra was eating mamtakim with the Tsofim, Adin had a happy day-off from his older brother with Aimee and I at an oasis on the north-west end of the Dead Sea called Ein Feshcha (Einot Tsukim in Hebrew – which means the ‘spring of the cliffs’, which well describes the oasis which is situated at the foot of a series of cliffs). Adin loved the individual attention and the bugging-free day. The oasis itself was spectacular, and quite off the beaten track even though it’s right off the road alongside the Dead Sea. Most people drive by en route to Ein Gedi or Masada without giving it a second thought. Ein Feshcha has several spring-fed pools suitable for wading and swimming which are all interconnected with channels of spring water.
Wednesday-Thursday, October 12-13, we spent the first two days of Succoth with Aimee’s old Young Judea youth movement friends and their “chavurah” (group of friends) at a guest house on Kibbutz Ein Tsurim. The kibbutz is located inland from Israel’s southern coast along the Mediterranean Sea. The guest house was pleasant and basic in a 1 1/2 stars kind of way.
Pretty much how I remember kibbutz guest houses from the late 1970s. The bathroom flooded the instant you turned on the shower, and you had to spent a few minutes after showering squeegee-ing the floor. There was complimentary cake from the factory that produces freshly-stale cake. The furniture would all have come from China had China been exporting furniture back in the 70s. Personally, I like 1 1/2 star accommodation - but for the fact we were paying 5 star rates. But Aimee was happy spending quality time with her friends, Miriam and Susan, and the boys kept themselves busy playing with everyone’s dogs, shooting hoops, and generally staying out of serious trouble.
We spent Friday Shabbat supper in our neighbour Rafael’s Succah. There was a nice crowd and Ezra and Adin made friends with a 15 year old boy and his 14 year old sister from a neighbouring building who were at the supper. Saturday we spent a long and pleasant leisurely lunch with our downstairs neighbours in their Succah.
Sunday, October 16th, we visited Ein Yael, which is at the southern edge of the city, and is open only a few days a year. It’s the
site of an ancient community with many archeological remains and – as the name “Ein” (spring) indicates - a natural water source that made life possible. Today it’s a kid-focused hands-on local version of Williamsburg Virginia where the staff dress up in period (i.e. Biblical) costumes and teach kids how to do various old-time activities including making pita over the fire, ceramics, bamboo flutes, parchment, and straw baskets. Pita was the biggest hit since the boys got to eat what they made.
On Monday the 17th we spent a lot of time on the road, but it was worth it. In the afternoon we attended the Country Fair at Moshav Mevo Modiin – the religious-hippy moshav (semi-collective agricultural settlement) founded by the singing Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach and other hippy-religious types from the 1960s and 1970s. Lots of long graying hair and beards, faded jeans, and tie-die. It’s also the home of the members of the Moshav Band, who we know and love. The Country Fair featured great live outdoor music, kid-friendly entertainers, hippy-religious crafts for sale, possibly Israel’s best pizza, and lots of room for the boys to run wild without getting into danger or trouble.
We attended
the Country Fair two years ago and the boys remembered with great excitement and anticipation the white – food-colouring-free – cotton candy they had. But to their great disappointment this year, however, there was no white cotton candy to be had on the Moshav. So instead they drowned their disappointment in a bottle of the “Real Thing” – Coca Cola. And then, as if to prove to them that there must be a God, at our next stop – the Dead Sea Tamar Music Festival – there was white – food-colouring-free – cotton candy for them. Twice in our collective lives we have encountered white – food colouring-free – cotton candy. Two years ago at the Moshav, and then two years later on the very day we returned to the Moshav, in the middle of the desert at a completely unrelated event. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
We spent over two hours driving to and from the very southern (farthest) tip of the Dead Sea to attend an outdoor concert at the Dead Sea Music Festival by Adin’s dreadlocked rock-star violin teacher, Michael Grielsammer. The venue was almost impossible to find - the website included no directions, it was
pitch black with no street lights anywhere, there were no signs on the roads, there were several different festival venues scattered around the region, and even Michael wasn’t sure how to get there. We first ended up at the wrong venue, then traveled to and from a border crossing to Jordon, before arriving at our destination. Many others, no doubt, got lost or gave up. Accordingly, attendance was poor, but Michael and his band were great. Aimee and Adin danced in the sand in front of the stage, and Adin was super thrilled when Michael introduced his last song with “Adin, this one’s for you.” After the encore Adin ran up to Michael after he left the stage and gave him a big high-five. And best of all, and in fulfillment of our hopes, Adin was very much inspired by seeing his mentor/teacher/Israeli rock-star buddy, perform live.
Tuesday, October 18th, provided something completely different; Bat Ayin, a hard-core settler community in the West Bank. We spent the day at Bat Ayin with Aimee’s rather (and I do mean rather) religious second cousin Rachel, her family, the family donkey, and Rachel’s rather secular father (George Promislow) and brother (Ronny Promislow),
and their rather secular families. No shortage of contrasts there. Amazingly, our boys and their distant cousins, payot (side curls) and all, got along great. And unlike two years ago, the kids were able to communicate reasonably well in Hebrew. Apart from playing with the donkey, they played cards together and visited the little petting zoo in the town.
Wednesday the 19th we went to another desert oasis called Ein Prat, our last outing during the boys’ vacation. Ein Prat is near Jerusalem, but very hard to find. No way we could of gotten there on our own. We joined Aimee’s cousin Amy, and her family, as well as friends of theirs who led the way in a motor caravan. The oasis, hidden in a deep and narrow canyon, is fed by spring water that gathers in a series of pools filled with toe-nibbling fish. The 9 boys in our group, and no girls, clicked nicely together and spend the day swimming, wading, climbing and exploring together.
And now …. back to the routine of our still new reality.
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Paul Walker
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I HAVE KEPT ALL ALL YOUR BLOGS,THEY ARE HISTORY PAST AND PRESENT.BLOG #10 WITH ALL THE PHOTOS WAS WITHOUT A DOUBT THE MOST INFORMATIVE, YOU HAVE A WRITERS WAY WITH WORDS. PARDON ME BUT IS FRED CAMERA SHY OR ARE MY 81 YEARS JUST CATCHING UP TO ME.GOD BLESS YOU ALL, I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR NEXT AND NEXT BLOG.