Thursday, 16/June/2005

Ido -left, I in the middle, Eyal - right

I was up early this morning, you have to be at the Aqua Sport Diving Club at 8:30am to get your shut together and cross the Israeli/Egyptian border - a lengthy and tedious procedure, as you move (in either direction) between surly, unpleasant Israeli border control (mainly young females) with attitude problem bordering (oops!) on the malicious, and thick, work-by-numbers (exclusively male) excruciatingly slow Egyptian officers. Truly an off-putting experience. Ido (pronounced Ee-doh), our guide and divemaster, keeps our passports, and his cool, as he takes us through the seemingly endless points of inspection. We are made to wait here, stand there, long eyelashes drop gravely as yet another person - pick your side of the border - scans your passport photo (I'm convinced I look nothing like mine - they'll never let me through, surely), then rise to meet your own eyes, while the eyebrows continue the ascent a fraction - that's supposed to be you? Get outta here! We finally find ourselves on the Egyptian side, and it only took little over an hour. Now we make our way, on foot, to the Aqua Sport branch adjacent to the Taba Hilton - a mere 30 m away from the official border. Our group is not large. Ido is assisted by Eyal, not the one who gave me the refresher yesterday, but another one, who joined Aqua Sport yesterday, having lost his livelihood in Thailand in the aftermath of the Boxing Day tsunami in December 2004. A handsome young man, keen to show off his skills as he essentially auditions for a job. There is one Dutch man, the only non-Israeli among us, a proud dad and his pre-army service daughter - Ido, our guide, ever cheerful, keeps addressing her as "gever" (man, or hombre) and she squeals with delight each time, and a middle-aged couple from some moshav in the north of Israel, he - a put upon husband with a bad back, she - a large woman who apparently makes all the decisions for him, lectures everybody on whatever is being said, and declares her dislike of ...almost anything actually. I try, and fail miserably, to put a smile on that frowning face. Eyal, a charming guy with no airs and graces tries too - nothing. The woman must have had her sense of humour surgically removed. Oh, well. The dives are just wonderful, albeit with poor visibility - the wind has not let up since I arrived, and it's raising some waves (as much as you can get in the Red Sea, i.e. not very). It makes some underwater sandstorms but at 15m it's still not bad at all: we see fantastic corals and a bustling market-place for fish - feeding, cleaning, darting here and there playfully, some large groupers come up to check you out, or you find yourself in the midst of a huge shoal of small, brightly coloured fish. I got to see some mature octopus, creeping his way along a coral, some lion-fish with their poisonous spines swaying on their backs as a warning to anyone with some funny ideas, big parrot-fish, colourful, with a beak-like mouths, sea-snakes, mornay eels, small manta rays - you have to be very "quiet" as the slightest movement represents potential danger to these remarkable creatures, and they refuse to come out to play - they must know how delicious they can be! Well, some of them anyway.
In the evening Bella invites me to a dinner at her friend's place. We sit on the porch in a housing complex - effectively an apartment hotel on its own compound, very modern, with its own facilities including a swimming pool, a bar, snooker table etc. It is used almost exclusively by the hotel and catering workers of Eilat, so it feels like a microcosm - a small community. Gabi cooks us steaks on the bar-b-que, we drink wine and chat the night away. Very civilised.

Eilat, Thursday Night

Bella and mom Elizabeth watching the Oprah/Cruise interview. Note Scientological expression on their faces... I was forced to sit right through this repulsive freakshow, and was relieved no end when Gabi, Bella's husband arrived from work to even the balance of estrogen v. testosterone in the house. Note the view just visible in this picture - this is what they see from their balcony every night. Not bad, huh?!


טוב, אז אני באילת, כבר אחרי צלילת הרענון עם אייל (המדריך הדובי של אקווה-ספורט, סימפטי ונחמד, חיבבתי אותו מיד והיה לנו קליק טוב). אני ביחידת הדיור של אח של בלה, ובלה מזמינה אותי לערב של פיצה, בירה ומשהו בטלביזיה שקשור עם טום קרוז, בחברתה וחברת אמא שלה, אליזבת. נשמע לא רע, אז אני יורד במעלית, יוצא מהבנין, הולך לבנין השכן, עולה במעלית - הגעתי. החברה - מעולה, כמובן. הפיצה - בסדר, חוץ מהאנשובים - בלה לא אוהבת, אז יש יותר לאליזבת ולי, וזה שהביא את הפיצה, קולגה לשעבר של בלה, עם חיבה לפירסינג מהסוג שאינו גלוי לעין מיידית - אבל הוא שש להפגין את החומרה לכל דיכפין (אמנם לא כשהוא מביא לך פיצה הביתה, כמיטב ידיעתנו). גם הבירה בסדר, אז מה הבעיה שלי? בטלביזיה מראים לא איזה סרט של טום קרוז, שהייתי מסוגל לסבול איך שהוא, אלא "ראיון" עם אופרה ווינפרי, שהיה פחות או יותר הדבר המחליא ביותר, הדביק ביותר, הרטוב ביותר שראיתי על מרקע שלא התלווה באזהרה "מתאים לקהל בוגר מעל לגיל 18". שני הסיקופאנטים האלה לא רק נישקו אחד לשני את התחת, הם כמעט ינקו זה לזו את החרא. אני יושב בצד אחת, קיבתי העדינה מתהפכת ומסתחררת, בלה ואימה יושבות מול המסך ומתמוגגות כמעט כמו הקהל באולפן (כנופיית נקבות, זכר אחד בלבד שכנראה נכנס לאולפן הלא נכון או שהוא בדרך למחלקה הפסיכיאטרית, כולן בהיסטריה "כנה" כמו הכנות של אלילן, צורחות כל פעם שהוא פותח את הפה שלו בחיוך שחושף את שיני הבינה שלו). יותר מאוחר הגיע גבי, בעלה של בלה, ואני הרגשתי כמו טובע בים, שסוף סוף זרקו לו גלגל הצלה. רק תמונה אחת מערב זה, בלה ברקע, אליזבת בקדמת התמונה, ושימו לב לנוף דרך חלון המרפסת

Gay Pride, Tel Aviv, Friday June 10th 2005

Actually I got to see just the beginning of the march, as I was roped in by my sister to perform some family duty, and there was no way out or around this one. It meant I had to get the hell out of there by 2:30pm at the latest. My nephew Roey who was my ride, and also in on the subsequent family thing had to leave early too. We met up with friends old and new, and it was clear we were losing out on a fun day in the city and in the park. The "family thing" turned out to be a very emotional trip down memory lane for my parents, which my sister Lea organised just beautifully, but more on this (maybe) later. Here are the pics of what little we saw of the march and the happening site - from afar, sadly...


Roey and I on the march (past all the marchers and to the car - gotta run!)

Israel in June 2005

After a rather testy BA flight where the service was a bit topsy turvy (the cabin crew served the meal first, drinks later) with bizzare food (inedible "brunch" of bubble and squeak beside a lump of tough meat, and equally disgusting sloppy chocolate mousse dessert). I was surrounded by דוסים, fussing and prattling non-stop, shifting suitcases up and down the isles, in and out of overhead lockers, leaning back their seats as soon as it was permissable, and as far as the seat backs would go, getting up to chat to their friends as soon as the movie started - that didn't matter actually as on offer was that moronic Vin Diesel turd of a movie "Pacifier"... The lady sitting next to me, a charming developement psychology professor called Na'ama was stared at by the younger of those חרדים people - the one across the isle from her was particularly fascinated: he watched her eating her "meal" with his lower jaw so dropped down it was a wonder he didn't dribble down his wispy young beard!
At the brand new, ultra modern terminal in Ben-Gurion airport things got off to an unpromising start. The long awaited jetty used to transfer passengers directly into the arrival hall was out of action. We were finally herded off the plane and down the old rickety steps into the wide buses, and just like in the bad old days, were transported, cattle-like to the terminal. By now I was in less than euphoric state of mind. So I went to draw some money from the A.T.M. Just like in Prague, my credit card wasn't recognised - less than a day from my call to Mastercard to make sure they don't leave me high and dry again. Angry and disorientated I cancelled and used my debit card instead. No problem. Except that in my near-rage state I realised, too late, alas, that I withdrew the equivalent of 350 quid!
I now proceeded to the train station, adjecent to the new terminal (which, by the way, seen through the red mist of my eyes, is indeed attractive enough). It's a new feature, much trumpeted by the media, but trains call only every 20 minutes, and to most destinations one has to change somewhere along the way. The fares are still cheap at less than 2 quid one way. The train arrived on time - an old affair left from biblical times I suspected (give or take a few thousand years), but it was clean and comfortable, so it was quaint, not unpleasant at all. I had to change at Tel Aviv to the train that would call in Hertzeliya, where my dad would pick me up to go to my parents house in Ramat Hasharon. The second train was by stark contrast to the first one a double-decker european one, modern, smooth and cool, full of Israeli soldiers on their way home for the Holiday weekend.
At the small, but brand new station, my dad was waiting for me, and as we were making our way home, I called Racheli, my school chum from way back then - she had invited me to her daughter's wedding, on the same day I arrived, on a hill, in a farm some 30km from Jerusalem. A minibus would collect dome wedding guests along the way - one pick-up point was the very centre of Ramat Hasharon. It seemed like I would have to get on that minibus, or I would have to get back to the station some time later, take the train to Beth-Shemesh, and catch a ride from there into the wooded hills and to the farm. After some debate I opted to jump out of the car, take the bare essentials with me, and hop on the minivan. I could probably snooze on the way, I thought. Here is a picture of the ride - some young girls, unseen, at the back, Racheli's parents, old (and not so old) friends, and a grumpy driver, who mellowed down in due course.



The wedding, meeting Racheli, some old school chums, and the happy couple (of whome I had only ever met the bride) all made up for an exhausting day on the road, following a 3 hour sleep the previous night. The farm is far from any proper road, and the wedding took place in and around the restaurant the owners run there. They raise goats and produce and sell cheeses on the farm, as well as serving (aparrently famous to those in the know) sumptuous meals there. And yes, kid and mutton is on the menu. The place was just magical. The air as clean as you could wish for, the hillocks green and peaceful, the food was sourced locally, the bread baked on the farm, the wine was locally produced too - the red was a good shiraz, if not outstanding. the groom wore "root" sandals, mercifully, as I didn't exactly dress for the occasion - or so I thought. The wedding canopy ("huppah") was hand-embroidered by Racheli herself, and instead of confetti - a pollutant on farmland - we were given rose petals. A "funny" protrait artist was drawing any willing guest and handed the 3 minute etude to the usually delighted subject. I was his first victim... The wedding service was held by a young, though stern Yemenite rabbi with big, beautiful piercing brown eyes. It was short and a little terse, and as usual in our faith, it is an affair conducted between and among men; the bride remains totally passive throughout the service, and she is not asked to declare her consent or acceptance of the bond of marriage. The groom isn't consulted much either - he only gets to say "dedicated are thee with this ring" (roughly translated). After this archaic part of the evening, the proper Israeli part started, with mother of the bride, friends, the groom's brother, presenting a tribute with songs, short speeches and poems. A band of percussionists started off the celebrations, with DJ's console to follow. around 11:30pm we filed on to the minibus, and finally got back around 1:00am. My holiday has started on a fantastic note after all!


The road to Beth Shemesh, on the way to the wedding


Getting closer, but still on tarmac


Last few kms are on dirt road through groves and the bush


Posing with Racheli, Yasmin and Nimrod


The sun beginning to set

Prague Weekend

Well, we've gone and done it - flew out Friday morning (Carmi, Rafi and I) and evening (Amit and Angus). We started off at the Old Town Square - here are a few pictures where you get to see how we look - against the lovely architecture of the square, which has churches, palaces, museums, the Old Town Hall and other public buildings. Here are some of the sights.


Me, with St. Nicholas at the background


With Rafi at the square

The famous Astronomical Clock, the Old Town Hall Tower




Friday afternoon the first three took the metro, then tram, to reach a bathing lake on the north west outskirts of the city, much like the bathing ponds on Hampstead Heath, only better, cleaner, quieter, with clothing optional areas.


יש לפראג סודות השמורים מפני (מרבית) התיירים, כמו למשל אגם שאקרה, בפארק בצפון מערב העיר, בו הילידים, ועכשיו גם מספר תיירים נהנים משחיה באגם מקסים, נקי, ומוקף בדשא רענן, עצים, שיחים ושבילים. יש שם גם כמה מבנים מתפוררים לאיטם (הפארק הזה היה מחנה נופש רשמי לפונקציונרים במפלגה הקומוניסטית לפני הפיכת הקטיפה). היום יש שם שירותים בסיסיים בלבד, וכמה בעלי יוזמה מנהלים שם שני קיוסקים קטנים להנאת המתרחצים והמשתזפים, עם או בלי בגדים

Saturday we walked across the heaving Charles Bridge, against a tide of other tourists, people trying to hand you leaflets and flyers for various "attractions", beggars prone on the ground, and the pitfalls of the cobbled streets of the "Lesser Town". By the time we got to the Prague Castle, it was raining... Yet, such is the beauty and charm of Prague, that we adored it utterly. I was only able to take pictures whenever I could be shielded from the rain. Here are a few of them.


Detail from St. Vitus Cathedral


Castle Guard, with Carmi and Angus looking on


The ornate "Golden Gate", east wing of St. Vitus


Amit and Rafi taking five


Me, flanked by Amit and Carmi


With Angus, still within the Castle walls

Saturday night we set off to sample the Bohemian delights on offer. After drinks at the Old Town, we proceeded to the drag club Tingl-Tangl for a dinner (which was so-so to say the least - luckily it wasn't so much about the food!). A medley of drag acts followed. The only form of drag we got to see was the good old miming to various pop divas (complete with a baroque opera prima donna "doing" a Mozart aria). here is a selection of them. Carmi and Angus chose to have dinner at a proper restaurant, so they never got to the Tingl-Tangl. But look closely at the drag artistes - I reckon you will never see Carmi and one of them at the same room at the same time. Hmm... As I expected, Carmi denied the charges but he did it with such panache!!!















From Tingl-Tangl we went for a drink and a bit of a dance at Friends (or was that on Friday?) Amit and I went on to a seedy little place called Club Cannes - really a basement flat's sitting room with some 6 sad cab drivers (or so they seemed to us, as they looked vaguely like the cabbie who ripped us off on the way there). We took one look and knew we were'nt staying. Rafi had gone home - his foot was giving him hell and he suffered with really bad hay fever. We went on to another bar - The Saints, again, a tiny (though smart looking) space the size of a small living room. Angus and Carmi joined us there. From Saints we walked the short distance to Club Termix - a narrow, long loud space with a tiny dancefloor at the far end. This was the liveliest place we found in Prague. From there Amit and I went on to Club Alcatraz for a drink (both of us) and a cruise (just me, obviously). No pictures available from any of the bars/clubs (except Tingl-Tangl)

On Sunday I walked around the Old town, the rest of the gang went for a guided tour of Terezinstadt. I passed as I have done that tour on my first visit to Prague.
In the evening we had dinner at a lovely Czech place which Carmi and Angus discovered, then a quiet drink at Friends bar, then home for an early bed.

Monday we spent strolling around the Havelska market area, the Estates Theatre, and finished off with a stroll around Josefov before taking the minivan to the airport.
As you can see, I am writing in a bit of a hurry - I'm off to Israel on Thursday, so without further ado, here are a few more pictures I (and Rafi) took, untitled, so to speak. Next stop Tel Aviv!


New Synagogue