Frozen

Do you want to build a snowman?

This year in Tel Aviv we actually attended a Christmas party before we took off for the (supposedly) warmer shores of Australia.  This Christmas party was hosted by a truly delightful friend of mine - a gorgeous Irish woman with an elfin face and and a sing song voice.  Don't you just love those Irish accents?  Let's face it - no matter how well we Australians were brought up, or what fancy pants school we went to, we all still sound like a giant pack of bogans.  It's not a great accent.  Even a New Zealand accent is better, at least we get to mock it and make fun of it (no wonder those poor bastards hate us - how many annoying Aussies must pay them out about how they pronounce "six"? - I shudder, I really do).  But the Irish accent is one of the best - I would literally pay somebody to talk to me all day in that accent.  Even if they were abusing me and telling me what a dick-knob I was, it would still sound like sweet music to my ears.  I am a sucker for an accent though, anything but Australian......

The mini jews (and my little shiksas) rock xmas

So in Israel - as already mentioned - Christmas is pretty much a national non event.  Pretty much all Israelis don't even have any idea when it is.  This fact alone seems to surprise most yoks.  They reply with an astonished - "Really??".  But then when I say - "Well do you know when Chanukah is?" they of course have no idea and the idea that this is a comparable situation is truly surprising.  So in a nutshell, Israelis don't give a shit about Christmas, they don't know when it is, what its for or what goes on.  To have a Christmas party in Israel is like having a Ramadan party in Hobart - a novelty, irrelevant, and not a big deal.  For a Jew who grew up in a Christian country, Christmas has totally the opposite effect.  My husband described it (rather dramatically I thought) as a symbol of everything relating to the oppressive dominance of Christian beliefs, and the total enveloping nightmare of consumerism hell.  You've got to admit he's got a point.  Everyone always goes on about how Christmas is really about family and togetherness.  That is bullshit.  It is about spending buckets of cash, getting stressed out of your brain and despising your own flesh and blood by the end of it all. Ho ho ho-rrible.....

I led the christmas tree cupcakes activity - shizenhousen effort by the way kids

Too harsh?? You get a bit over Christmas is the days leading up to it.....But back in early December at my Irish friend's house I was all about the Merry Merry and the "Aren't reindeer antlers adorable?"....... Vali and Cord had a great time - they were totally Christmas savvy.  But most of their little friends received a less than enthusiastic reception from their parents as they were photographed in Christmas hats and crafting Christmas cards.  One mother remarked to me "Well that's the last time I want to see my daughter wearing a Christmas hat.....".  Give her a break, she did spend most of her life watching all the little Christians of Melbourne receiving sacks of presents while all she got was a donut and a potato cake.  It's a fair call really.....

Cord got shafted for secret Santa at the party - she went first, and pulled out a shoddily wrapped headband.  I think it was used - Obviously this crappy gift was a second thought from a Christmas hater - Cord's face says it all really.

Burnt by secret santa (they always suck really - people should buy their own presents)

 Vali got lucky and pulled out a giant box of chocolates, basically, sugar for Africa - I also think her face says it all.

The gift of teeth cavities - the chick on the right appears a little jealous

So not long after the party was Splitsville. So long Tel Aviv, Hello Hobart (with a few detours on the way). I spent days packing up my crap and tidying the house.  I also found out that fabric softener and water restores doll's hair to their factory sheen.....this thrilled me a lot more than it should have, and meant that I took a long intermission during packing to really glam up all the dollies .

Look at the glamour!

Trying to love it, and failing

I packed all summer clothes and a couple of winter warmers for Paris.  Totally rooted my packing.  That is typical these days - besides it's not easy packing for Freezing Cold, Moderately Chilled and Furnace-like Heat in one suitcase.  We flew into Paris that first morning.  First destination =  Euro-Fucking-Disney.  I'm going to be harsh here, very very harsh. So brace yourselves.  What an honest to God, piece of crap, losersish, ugly, stupid craphole. Basically Cuntsville - all cunts please move here and then I'll blow the whole thing up.  I hate you Disneyland - I HATE YOU.  Wow that was actually therapeutic.  Look, I'm going to backpedal a little bit and say that perhaps on a sunny pleasant day it could have been an acceptable experience - however........on a freezing cold, raining Sunday, a couple of weeks before Christmas, it was a living hell.  Even with gloves, hats, coats and Princesses it was not good, not good at all.  My kids hated it.  There was more howling that day than at a showing of Beaches in a centre for the clinically depressed.

Wet, drab and freezing 

Numb and miserable

On the Snow White ride before the terror set in

Yes yes, very Christmassy

Hang in there love

This is basically what happened - we arrived, walked around in the rain, lined up for 40 minutes to go on a Snow White ride that lasted 2 minutes and scared the absolute shit out of them (lurking witches are never a feel-good kind of a thing), missed the Princess parade, ate 3 lots of 15 euro french fries, lined up in the dark and rain for an hour to see Rapunzel.  I must admit it though - I thought we had it bad.  Poor Rapunzel.  Standing there in a bodice dress and cape with two tons of hair on her head, and smiling like a moron as wet bawling kids were pushed next to her, and weird men put their arms around her (We noticed she leaned wide to the side for those more unpleasant cuddlers).  After that we just couldn't take it anymore.  The feet and hand were actual lifeless lumps of freezing flesh.  Then we drove back to Paris - got caught in a two hour traffic jam and arrived at the hotel 300 bucks poorer, more unhappy, still wet, and with the stale taste of tomato ketchup on our breath. Bite me Walt.

Truly miserable

Although we missed out on seeing Anna and Elsa, the "Frozen" theme was pretty much the overriding experience for us is Paris.  I just wasn't mentally prepared for 5 degrees and rain.  Israel may be surrounded by lunatics, hated by the Western world, and a hotpot of civil unrest and violence - but my god, it's worth it for the climate.  Indoors was the only option for us in the reality of the northern hemisphere during winter.  I knew Galerie Lafayette would turn on the Christmas cheer and we weren't disappointed.  Christmas windows were a big attraction (seriously, they loved it way way more than Disneyland), and then 4 hours going sick nuts in the toy shop was a massive highlight.  They went absolutely mental, and I let it happen.  I didn't even bother to control them anymore.  Living in Israel has made me immune to the icy stairs of the shop assistants and the exaggerated huffing and muttering, as they tidy up the Lego shelf yet again.  I actually enjoy watching them hate me and my spawn and yet not having the balls to say anything.  Go on girls - pull a few more soft toys onto the floor, you know you want to......

Old fashioned French glory

Consumerism at it's finest - cheer up Vali, have a toy or something

Hot choccies and lights

Squeeze

Chuck it on the ground sweetie

Looks great, was shit

But after just 2 nights we boarded a night flight for Australia and off we went.  It was very exciting.  Especially to be heading for Byron Bay where we hadn't been since 2011.  Again, I'm just going to have to be bitter and twisted.  I suspect I will regret being such a cow at some stage of my life, but for now it just feels so good.  It sucked there.  I'm going to gloss over the good points - and that was seeing our old mates who are cool, funny and the best company out there.  Instead I'm going to focus on the freak cold spell that gripped the whole area and turned the 30 degrees sun and heat into 18 degrees of rain, wind and the kind of freezingness that made our big decked wooden rental with a pool pretty much useless.  There was no mobile reception, no internet and the unmistakable aroma of a dead and rotting animal coming from somewhere within.  When we tried to turn on the heating the whole place filled up with the stench of decaying flesh.  Noice.  The only other redeeming feature of our time there as far as I was concerned was the koala I spotted taking a stroll down the main road as I went for a very early drive one morning (jetlag's a bitch).  I pulled over and gave chase (nothing like a compassionate awareness of our native wildlife - but I told you I was determined for a koala pet in my last post).  Tried to pop off a couple of photos but sadly only really got it's arse as it ran away from me terrified.  My husband said my picture looked like a hamster with a shaved bum.  Unfortunate really.  At least it didn't claw my tits like my last koala encounter I guess.

Pathetic effort

Luckily we pissed off from that hellhole - yes, I am aware that it is in reality one of the most naturally beautiful places on the planet - it was just too green.  And wet.  And all those squawking birds in the morning really gave me the shits......piss off you noisy A-holes.

Ok, so it's beautiful

Where is he Mum?  

Melbourne was next - and thank god it was actually warm.  I was out of a jumper for the first time in yonks (I hate "yonks" - I was just trying to annoy myself there).....So although I wasn't exactly frozen in temperature I was chilled the soul the whole time I was there considering some nutjob was holding people at gunpoint in Sydney, which didn't end well.  But enough about that - Regarding the campaign that started to prevent a backlash against Australian Muslims "#ILLRIDEWITHYOU", which offered support to Muslims riding on public transport - I'm just wondering if it is inappropriate to republish this picture I saw on my nephew's facebook page?

Yep thought so.

So - from Melbourne to Hobart.  The last leg of a 5 plane homewards journey.  What can I say apart from, another plane trip, another disaster.  First, we only just scraped in by the skin of our nads.  It was delayed about 6 times due to the weather, and then as Tasmania suffered under the pitter patter of a million hail storms, we tried to land at Hobart airport.  After 2 aborted (terrifying and shaky) landings we circled for almost 2 hours before being informed by the pilot that we were going to have to return to Melbourne.  Bloody Hell.  However, amazingly, there was a break in the weather and we were able to touch down about 5 hours later than planned.  The best moment for me was when I decided to start a plane clap.  I've tried before and Ive never had success, but this time the applause took off and the claps were like thunder as we rolled down the runway (unless it was actual real thunder...).  It was a successful clap off that I initiated.  I was so happy - and immediately regretted that I didn't try for a Mexican wave.  Next time, next time.

So how am I bearing up in "sunny" Tasmania to date??? Well naturally with 17 degrees and rain, and a lack of warm clothing  - totally and utterly......frozen.  And no, I'm not going to "Let It Go".  Instead I decided to embrace Anna and Elsa more than ever.  And even with the crazy Christmas build up and the cars and people everywhere, the brawling with a person who was more tattoo than man in the carpark of Toy Kingdom, and the general sense that with all the chaos and craziness that everyone thinks the world is ending or something, it's bloody brilliant to be here.
Merry Christmas! - totally loving it!

Merry Christmas Elsa and Anna

Life's great

Migrating South For Winter

Double Rainbow - you just dont see a lot of rainbows here - mainly because you don't see a lot of rain I guess.

I love this time of year in Tel Aviv.  It gets crispy in the morning, the weather during the day is always a surprise (instead of the predictable "not a cloud in the sky" everyday for 6 months - pooooor me!), and the sunsets over the ocean are magical.  Our apartment is amazing for weather watching as well, and the change in the seasons has been dramatic.  Last week I was wearing shorts, this week I am in a scarf and jumper.  Apparently it's going to be in the mid 20s again next week.  One week of winter.  Is that it???  That's the thing here - don't even think about investing in a winter jacket - just buy one from Zara, keep the tags on and return it after a couple of days.  Same goes for scarves and hats.  You can get round in a beanie if you want, but it's pretty unnecessary and I would only do it if I was having a really bad hair day or about to partake in a touch of petty theft.  The trouble is that you pretty much have to keep on top of your leg hairs for pretty much all of the year.  Fuck letting those babies run wild and seeing how long you can actually go before waxing from sheer self disgust  - same for the feet - those toenails see the light of day more often than a set of solar panels on the equator.

I never get sick of this

Tornado!!!! Ok - waterspout - as seen from our balcony

Keep up lads, keep up

But by far, my most favourite thing at this time of year is watching the black ribbons of birds flying south to warmer destinations for the winter.  They don't stay south long actually - I remember last year they were back after a month or two.  I was thinking to myself - What? All that effort just for a few crummy weeks?  Just bulk up on an extra layer of feathers or something birdies, save yourselves the effort.  All that flying in formation must get exhausting.  It sure is great to watch though.  You see them for miles and miles - but how do they know what to do?  And how do they decide what group to fly in?  It's like the organisational genius of the bird world has all of his mates listed and then divides his little feathery friends into groups "Blackie, you're flying out with Group C at 9am Wednesday morning, Fluffy, you'll be flying in the afternoon group on Thursday at 4pm - don't be late - you're team leader - OK?  Right boys, see you in South Africa in a month".  I just tried to research further into this topic and came across information relating to the bird's testes shrinking and growing to 100 times their normal size.  I had to back away, its all too much at 1am.

So like our little flying chums, we too are heading south for winter.  Seriously I cannot wait.  So excited am I, that I packed a week ago.  It is now less than 2 weeks until departure date.  I must admit with everything packed, things are getting slightly on the awkward side when I need something, and all my clothes are especially wrinkly.  But I care not.  I am pumped.  So excited am I, to be pissing off from Israel, that I am finding, more than ever, the things I once loved here (or tolerated with a bemused smile and a playful shrug of the shoulders) are really starting to piss me off.  And the things that always shitted me are shitting me more.  Every time I venture out in the car, it is like narrowly avoiding death at every instant.  I just want to drive somewhere without being 120% hyper aware of everything in my immediate vicinity.  I swear I am not exaggerating when I say that I have 6 near misses on each drive to the girls' school.  I have to swerve to avoid people on the wrong side of the road, cars pulling out without looking, people walking right out in front of me, idiots riding bicycles up the wrong side of the road with a kid on the handlebars.  And if I am not nearly killing people who throw themselves in front of my moving vehicle, or avoiding being killed by the maniacs surrounding me, then there is a true danger that I will kill someone purely from anger.

My "Totally Over It" face

I've been publicly brawling with a lot of randoms lately.  Including my mortal enemy - the bitch in the nearby service station.  I have actually yelled "Fuck You" at her before.  When is the last time you have ever yelled "Fuck You" in someone's face?  In a car doesn't count - you say all kinds of things behind the wheel that you would never dream of screaming in people's faces.  It's satisfying, yet gutless.  But to actually have an out and out brawl with someone to their face is a different thing.  I had one with a taxi driver as well - but as Vali and Cordi were in the cab as well, so I had to restrain myself.  Instead of "Suck My Dick Arsewipe"  I instead went for a bit of "Well you are a very rude man, and I do NOT appreciate you speaking to me like that".  I am truly my mother.  I remember how humiliated I was when my mother used to cut sick in public.  I used to wish I was dead - well at least invisible - death seems a little drastic considering.

But it's difficult for us "normal" people to imagine the kind of anger and hatred that would compel a person (or two) to enter a place where elderly people are praying to God and proceed to hack them up with knives, axes and shoot them to death as well.  Because that is what happened in Jerusalem - a city 60 km from where I live, last Tuesday morning at 7am.  Basically a massacre of old men reading the Bible.   I know it was all over the international news, but everyone's just like "It's bad - but it's in Israel so what do you expect?"  or  "Oh those crazy fundamentalists - if they just Free Palestine then they won't get hacked to death with axes at 6.30 on a Tuesday morning".  Meanwhile the Gazans are dancing a jig in the streets, eating candies and screaming "Woooohooooo - Four old men got hacked to death by a couple of pissed off 20 year olds - God is GREAT".  Don't you all think that is really weird? - and possibly more disturbing that the actual crime?    Over the last month there have been a large amount of cars ploughing into people and killing them (including a 3 month old baby), people being knifed at train stations and in public spaces - in Tel Aviv as well as Jerusalem.  It makes you feel a bit freaked out when out and about - particularly in areas where there are large amounts of soldiers (as we were yesterday).  And by soldiers, I don't mean battle hardy, shaved head muscular dudes with facial scars, I mean 18 year old girls and boys completing their 3 years of compulsory service.  They're babies.  Can you imagine if the security of Australia rested in the hands of the entire population of 18 year old Aussies?  God help us all - unless we needed some kegs cracked - then we'd be fine.

Yeah - maybe not Jules

At the same time as people are being meat cleavered to death, Australia is going nuts about some dickhead who makes unsavoury jokes and delivers sexist lectures to sad cases about how to pick up women.  I'm talking about Julian Blanc here - an American who got his visa revoked because big groups of chicks (and some guys) got majorly fucked off with him.  There is no doubt - the man is a wanker - but if you can get kicked out of Australia for being a wanker then I would suggest there is a sizable list to be deported, beginning with the idiot who is actually running the country at the moment.  Listen, I was in full support of all his stupid seminars being canned - but at the same time I was kind of amused in a few ways.  Let's just put it out there - all men are trying to have sex as much as possible.  It's not exactly their fault - it's how it is, and any guys who say they're not are LYING.  All the sensitive new age dudes are just going that path so they can get more sex from women who are appreciative (in a sexy way) of their "caring".  If some tragic cases are having issues getting sex, then it's only natural that they may be interested in learning how to get more (or at least some) action with hot chicks from a guy who claims he's got a foolproof method .  Even the dudes that were protesting against Julian Blanc were just trying to get a root from some of the feminists.  Feminists are hot too you know, not just the chokeable chicks with low self esteem issues (Too much?).

I know he was inappropriate and disgusting, but can't people sometimes have a sense of humour about the whole thing?  Besides isn't it good to always question your most ardent beliefs in what is right and wrong.  As Mark Twain says - "Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it's time to pause and reflect".  One of his focus points was "How to Destroy her Bitch Shield". Look, I'm interested (and I'm sure my poor husband would currently fork over some major cash for this quality info).  I know a lot of bitches, like the girl who serves me my latte in the mornings - love to break down that cranky exterior and get some love (not physical).  I could possibly even try this with the Service Station woman, and god knows she could be thinking the same about me, after all,  I was the one who gave her the finger and screamed in her face.  Plus, Julian's line - "If you pull out and cum on a picture of your girlfriend's face it's not cheating", made sense to me.  Girls - we can apply the same logic  - just orgasm while looking at a picture of your boyfriend and you're good to go.   Is that so bad?  - Alright, so some of the other shit ranged from undeniably offensive and stupid - plus I'm sure Japanese girls are pretty fucked off about being generalised as the kind of people you can grab and shove in your crutch - but to be honest, you can.  A western male - no matter how much of a loser - is the king in Japan, and I have discussed this in resentful detail before in a previous post - http://twintravelling.blogspot.co.il/2012/03/zero-to-hero.html .  Some of his other tweets were pretty disgusting - something about cum being 1000 calories a mouthful - I was like "Oh no!  That's TERRIBLE" .........  I had thought it was low fat protein..... (sorry that was bad, really revolting).  But it's not like the guy is responsible for all the dickheads that abuse their partners.  There is something mentally wrong with those people.  Julian just tried out his pathetic lines at a most inappropriate time.  He has, as a result become the poster boy for male misogamy and the most hated man in the world.  Whoops.  He just has to take the fall-out and the company he works for can really go places now.  But bear with me here while I bring up a couple of points that I have been thinking about for the last couple of weeks.

I can hardly look at him now.  Same with Rolf H (but I always hated him)

While all this Julian Blanc hatred is going on, Bill Cosby - a man actually accused of drugging and raping 19 women gets a standing ovation at some show a day or two ago.  Bloody hell.  By the way, Bill how could you?  I would suggest his punishment should be being buried alive in a giant pile of those hideous sweaters he used to get round in.  And with all of this shiz going down, I have also noticed that women all over the world are going nuts over the trailer for Fifty Shades Of Grey.  From my understanding, this is a movie (and of course, book) where a young naive virgin is sexually exploited by a dominating, cruel male who uses violence (for his own pleasure) to initially seduce her and then keep her in a relationship.  Am I wrong?  Tell me if I am, because to be honest I haven't exactly read the book - I leafed through one page of it in a bookstore in London while I was waiting for a wedding dress shop to open - and laughed out loud at the woeful written style and some of the pathetic and immature dialogue.  I swore then never to read it, no matter how popular it became.  And I am not saying that you all shouldn't enjoy badly expressed porn.  We all entitled to have free choice in whatever we enjoy - whether it's looking at pictures of Kim K's bum and wondering how, for the love of god, she got it that big...?  or debating the the main principles of quantum physics (God, I'd love someone to explain that simply to me one day), and also to express our opinions on what we find acceptable (4 hotdogs in a row when pissed) and offensive (Promite, or maggots - maggot infested Promite!!! Euuuggghhhhh).  I am just suggesting that maybe, just maybe it is a little extra confusing for socially inept dudes at the moment - My guess is that these would be the dudes who were eating up whatever pearls of wisdom total pathetic crap that came out of Julian Blanc's mouth.  It's not an easy life when all you want to do is get some action.  Prostitutes just don't cut it - you can tell they're never really enjoying themselves.

Other stories in the Australian media, that were top news stories at the time that majorly pissed off randoms were going on stab fests nearby my place, were  "Woman Sunbaking In A Bikini Gets Photographed by Real Estate Agent's Drone" (high brow stuff obviously).  "How I lost 20 kg" (obviously a diet of spoof was off the menu - yes, I realise again that is totally repulsive and I want to be sorry, I really do), and "Jacqui Lamby To Get A Makeover"(about time).  This kind of breaking news makes me very nostalgic for the homelands of Oz.  And I really do appreciate that scores of people aren't chanting for our destruction as a nation (even though the government is trying to convince people otherwise).

Let it goooooooooo.

So it's officially been a year - more or less - since I have been living here.  That kind of milestone is cause for reflection.  A lot has happened, and I must say I have enjoyed even more than I thought I would, despite wars and mayhem, and nobody holding a door open for me for a whole 12 months.  I'm a tiny bit concerned though, about how shit, not only my Hebrew is, but also my daughters' after an entire year.  I, at least have an excuse (total thickie) - but I was really hoping Vali and Cordi were going to be geniuses.  There's only so far an thorough knowledge of "Frozen" will get you in life.  While it may be cute now to know all the words to "Do You Want To Build A Snowman" at the age of five,  as a 20 old job seeker, nobody is going to buy that as a talent or skill.  I have just employed my new strategy to get their Hebrew on track -  The television!!! - Dora The Explorer or should I say"Dora HaKhokheret".  Why didn't I think of it before?  Listen, if it worked for Darrell Hannah in Splash then for sure it will work for my girls.  Seriously, she did so well to go from just being able to make Mermaid-like squeaks to being able to eloquently express that she wanted to go to Bloomingdales on a shopping spree after just one afternoon of watching daytime soaps.  Strange she didn't pick up from Days of Our Life that people generally wore clothes, even when going clothes shopping.

The question is - how does a mermaid end up with "Madison" as a name?

So it's been a year of living in the bubble (Tel Aviv) inside a bubble (Glass roof top apartment).  When you are not poor, Israel is for the taking.  You can have a bloody good life here when you aren't cleaning the streets or being oppressed.  Sometimes I feel like an absolute bastard for being so privileged. But what am I going to do, take a a job in waste disposal or run away with a Palestinian or something?  I can feel guilty as long as I like, I'm still going to sit round and drink lattes all morning.

Ouuuucch and Euuuugghh

So, I sure am looking forward to being in Byron Bay in a couple of weeks - we are staying in total nature and it is going to be wild.  Well, at least silent.  Ah silence, how I miss you.  Plus my lungs will probably implode from not getting their daily dose of pollution.  They are probably only being held together by solidified smog.  Recently I saw pictures of my friend's family cuddling a koala that they came across somewhere in the vicinity of where we'll be very soon.  It was by far the cutest thing I have ever seen - far far cuter than my twins dressed up in angel wings on their first Christmas.  It's unlikely that I will stumble across one by fluke, so I will just have to trap one, or snatch one away from it's mother and take 2000 selfies to make the experience last.  Hopefully it will work out better than my last koala cuddle at Currumbin.  The giant thing clawed my tits, and my hands had no choice but to rest on dreadlocks of koala shit for 15 minutes.  Vali and Cordi hated the whole thing as well, and I only did it for them.  Me and Mum look like we're loving it, but our eyes are saying "Just take the FUCKING picture".  It's never the same when it's a set up - I want a baby koala for Christmas  and I want it NOW. Ok - maybe in 2 weeks - you'd be hard pressed to find one here.

Maybe not if I was in Japan - they had lots of illegal pets at some of the pet stores.  Once I spotted a baby wallaby in a cage - I tried to take a picture of it, and was nearly impaled with a chopstick by the owner.   I also came across a couple of meerkats and an albino fox.  Squirrels were also popular, although I suspect they could have been rats with prop tails - the little pricks looked suspicious and seemed to be showing a committed preference for Parmesan, when there was a whole bowl of macadamias on standby.

Rat or Squirrel? It's a tough call.....(they could be hair extensions on the tail)

Well, I better go and retrieve some clothes and my toothpaste from my suitcase - it may be annoying to have to zip and unzip it daily, but I care not.  Just hoping I can de-Israel myself in the remaining 10 days before I have to face people I know.  Forget the poor suckers dying all around me -  what is far more concerning about life here is that I wore leggings as pants the other day, and also an over sized leopard print jumper that could be regarded as a dress (a touch is acceptable, but head to toe = NO - I'm skating close to the edge).  The next thing I know, I'm going to be lying out in the sun, lathered in coconut oil all summer long, and getting vast amounts of collagen injected in my lips.  And after I go to those extremes, its all down hill from there - I'm on the fast track to the 60 year old slut look.  Alternatively, just get me out of this country.......  

Halloween is for Suckers

Ahhhhhhhh

The thing is, I just don't think I buy all this Halloween crap.  Sure, in America - go all out fuckers, we know you love it.  But us Australians??? Since when the hell did we give a shit about Halloween?? Honestly.  Who here remembers dressing up as a ghost and walking around the neighbourhood asking for lollies?  I certainly remember walking straight up to random neighbour's front doors (these are people I'd never met by the way) and flat out asking them for either lollies or money to buy them.  But this was any given day of the week, and without a witches hat in sight.  I've got to give myself kudos here - as a kid I had balls.  Me and the other delinquent members of my neighbourhood gang developed more elaborate strategies for our lolly acquisition over the years.  We would spend hours rehearsing horrible performances to the Annie Soundtrack or the Smurf Hits Medley (notably our number one break out number - You're a Pink Toothbrush).  There were costumes, dance moves, god awful singing along with the tinny sound effect from the portable cassette player.  It must have been absolutely atrocious.  In fact I'm sure a number of people gave us sweets just to get up to piss off and leave them alone at 8am on a Sunday morning.  There were some that never ever opened their door.  We preferred to think that nobody lived there rather than the possibility that they knew we were banging on their door like mini psychos, and were not, in any way, going to open up for a rousting version of "Tomorrow" before they even got out of their pyjamas.  We also did the  Christmas Carol neighbourhood trip - a whole gang of us scrounging for lollies.  Christmas was a good time for it - people generally had piles of mini Mars Bars and that kind of stuff at the ready.  Plus who doesn't love a six year old singing "O Little Town of Bethlehem"?  (That would be my little sister by the way, I would force my younger siblings into singing slavery and keep a large share of their loot as their manager).

I was a dedicated little sugar addict.  Still am.  Therefore, I guess it is with a large deal of envy and greed that I slam all the little Aussie lolly lovers and their total windfall on Halloween.  It's so unfair.  I feel like my childhood was seriously deprived every time I spot someone I know's kid in a pair of monster teeth posing for Facebook with a fist full of lollies. Greedy little bastards - give me some.  I'm fighting not to refer to it as "candy" here as well, which is also disturbing me.  It's lollies, it's fucking lollies ok.

There are a fair few Americans in Israel, so in turn we get a slight dose of the Halloweens here as well. You Israelis just have to have it all don't you - Purim, Valentine's Day, Hanukkah, Passover - and now Halloween.  Next you'll be getting on board with a bit of Hobart Regatta Day or something - you can't have it all alright????

But this year I was into it myself.  Through our connections with the American School we had invites to the hottest Halloween shindig in town.  Seeing as it costs an absolute fortune to send your kid there (and is mainly full of diplomats kids from all over the world) I was expecting big big things.  I had originally planned to send the kids along in their Snow White/Rapunzel outfits.  They looked me with the pity and disgust you would expect from a couple of 13 year olds, and replied "No way.  We have to go as something scary".  Fine then - who's a stupid idiot?  "How about Rapunzel with my red lipstick on your face like blood???"  Actual eye rolling here.    I think it's tradition to make your own costumes, however I have the creativity of a twig, so I came up with the brilliant idea of getting someone to facepaint Vali and Cordi.  When I found out that the parents get into it too, I was secretly pleased.  I have been itching to go all Dia de los Muertos (Mexican "Day of the Dead") for quite some time, but had been wondering how to incorporate it into my every day life.

We're shit hot and we know it

Little Monster

I'm sure that many people thought I myself was responsible for such artistic abilities, and for the love of God I wish I could claim it as my own.  However, it was all due to a very talented woman called Stacey Soroka, who came to my house and did it for us.  Believe me, if I had had responsibility for the job it would have been a complete dog's breakfast - I kid you not. She did amazingly, and she took pictures for us, and she helped me wrestle in our day bed when it nearly blew off the balcony, and she didn't mind when I full frontal flashed her while trying to get the day bed under control myself.  The weather has been all kinds of crazy here lately.  I would called our weather pattern of late -schizophrenic (no offence to all you nutcase loony tunes out there).  There has been lightening and thunder, window shattering winds, double rainbows, tornadoes (really waterspouts - but the one I saw the other day was a beauty), and driving driving rain.  The drive out to the Halloween event was a bloody nightmare.  It was basically a flash flood on the highway - and there's me in my tiny Fiat 500 (love this car by the way), unable to see jack, wavering in and out of the lanes in lakes of water, fully covered in terrifying facepaint with 2 mini ghouls freaking out in the back.  Meanwhile my husband is in Dublin (another business conference) dancing in the streets to the Irish fiddle with some guy dressed up as the killer from Scream (he sent me a video on whatsap).

The Egyptians 

This year (amazingly the rain held off),  they held the event inside the school grounds.  I was not impressed.  Last year they closed off the streets in the fanciest area in Israel, opened up all the millionaires mansions and kids galore went round to all the houses getting their sugar fix on.  Not this year - security is as tight as my entire range of jeans (devastated here - bloody candy lollies).  So it was encased safely in the school - a place more protected than the army headquarters - and instead of visiting houses, all the kids went along a line of cars who all had their boots open (and decorated), and got their candy - fuck it! lollies - this way.  L A M E.  What did my kids know though?  To them having strangers shove handfuls of sweety treaties in their bags was probably the greatest experience of their lives.  They couldn't believe it.  And most of those "Trunk or Treaters"  were pretty nice.  I would like however, to single out one absolute bitch.  A hideous woman with a horrible grey bowl haircut and a cowboy shirt.  I am unsure if she was trying to be a cowboy - if so, shit costume love - or whether this was just her normal look - if so, shit look love.  She took one look at my 2 adorable 5 year olds, all dressed up and  holding out their candy (.....I give up....) bags cutely saying in unison "Trick or Trick" and responded "If they're not wearing a wristband they are not getting candy".  A wristband?  What wristband?  We had the regulation bags - I knew nothing about the wristband.  She wouldn't give them a single one.  I was on the edge of going nut job at her, but was shoved aside by all the little buggers who did have their wristband and were getting their greasies on all the mini kit kats.  The girls were gutted.  And she was the only one out of 50 people who didn't cough up the goods.  Bitch is on my shit list.

This guy seems a bit resistant to Vali getting any more candies

Fear not girls - the witch and the some-kind-of-insect love you

The (usually) beautiful Ori

Inside the grounds were all kinds of activities - eyeball toss, pumpkin throw, ghost bowling.  Sounds good??  It wasn't.  Neither was the magic show - and the haunted house??? Well let's just say I was unmoved.  Cordi and Vali were pretty pleased with themselves that they made it through - and I must say it's a good thing that I went in too because Cordi lost it a bit when she was rushed by some dude in a Frankenstein suit.  I'm not surprised - I kind of hate that thing myself.  I don't know if anyone has ever visited Madame Tussuad's in London and been into the dungeon section downstairs.  Now that is some scary shit.  Really terrifying, and not just full of wax statues of serial killers.  There are also actors down there paid to frighten the crap out of people.  One of my brother's friends had a job doing it for a while - he actually said he got punched out by some guy once.  I'm not surprised - I wanted to take that option myself when I went through.  I was at the back of our group with no boyfriend to put his arm around me like all the other girls.  This meant that I constantly had freaky dressed up scary people sneaking up behind me and screaming in my face or doing the licky motion in my ear (Hannibal Lector Style).  It was awful, but I knew not to show fear.  My sister in law said that she lost it and couldn't handle it and was pressed up in a corner wailing.  One of the scarers spotted her and shouted "We've got a CRIER". Then all of them descended on her with the demented laughing, the licky licky tongue and the screaming in her ear.  I surprised she didn't end up carried off to the asylum on a stretcher.

This exactly what I'm talking about - how can she be smiling????

Hands off our  candy 

Luckily our event was over in 2 hours.  I bundled my girls into the car and drove them 40 minutes home.  They continued to eat American candy until they passed out.  Basically they ate it non stop for 2 and a half hours.  My god.  That is the only, and last time they will have lollies for dinner.  I hid the loot bags (after chucking a few handfuls out - they'll never know) and amazingly got them upstairs to bed - they were ruined.  I then proceeded to take 100 selfies before I regretfully scrubbed my own facepaint off.  Even though I had tried to get some of the make up off the girls it proved impossible mid slumber, so I had to leave a lot of it on.  This proved to be a scary mistake when Vali arose in the night and came quietly sobbing into the kitchen just as I'd turned the lights off.  She just silently appeared behind me, and with the greenish sunken eyes and the white face - she looked like a terrifying little ghoul.  Basically she scared the absolute crappery out of me.

Gone

Goner

But even this wasn't as scary as the feeding technique Cordi has been planning for when we go home to meet their two new baby cousins.  I'm going to have to have a few words with her before she helps my sister out.

Scissors and perfume straight in the kissers

Welcome to the world my nephews - dear little Lucas and Angus.  I'm an Aunty at last!  Two sweet little boys for my beautiful sister and her husband.  We've all waited so long for you, and we're so so happy xxxxxxx

Cheers!!!

Run!! Coming To Get You.....

This is obviously "before"

So I ran 10km the other night.  While this is no big feat in itself and I have run further before, there is something however, pretty cool about running any kind of distance with packs of other people.  I would like to "come out" and announce that I am one of a possibly small group of people who actually like running.  It's true I do.  Even when I am as unfit as coma recovery patient, I still like the way I nearly chunder on my Nikes as I shuffle pathetically along a lonely road.  But it's when I'm already fit that my enjoyment of running really hits full stride.  Not sure what's going on there, because the whole experience is still physically painful, and as a rule I tend to avoid doing anything that hurts. Besides, for somebody who regularly runs, I still have a very unfortunate cellulite issue and would actually prefer to lie and say I never do any exercise as to have an excuse for that particular problem.   But there you go.  The gig is up.  I am a runner (with cellulite) and I'm proud.

So I entered the Tel Aviv Night Run, and as it was 10km, I didn't really train for it.  I just ran as much as I normally would -  in the gym, on the treadmill, while watching movies  It's pleasant, it really is.    The gym I go to is pretty close, and I'm convinced by now that it's a pick-up gym for singles.  I was first alerted to this possibility after I'd be going there a month or so and I kept noticing that there were men in the toilets all the time.  It took me quite some time to cotton onto the fact that it was a unisex toilet.  How strange.  I thought these existed only in gender progressive offices that were trying to be all cool - like at Google or something.  It's different in a gym though (don't you think?), sometimes you have to take your clothes off and that kind of thing.  There weren't any change cubicles either.  That really is taking the unisex toilet thing to the next level.  If you want to swap your sweaty top for a fresh one, basically you have to show everybody your boobs.  Don't even think about a scruds changeover either.

I have only ever had one shower there.  When the water went off at our house once, I decided that I would walk 5 mins to the gym and shower there.  I smelt - what can you do?  However while I was in mid-shower the electricity went off and the whole change rooms became pitch black.  Though at least no randoms could get a glimpse of my fanny I suppose.  Not that glimpses of my fanny are generally in demand or anything - but still.  Personally I would take a side look at a fanny on display for sure, and generally I am not that interested in fannies.  It's just the way it goes.  Anyway, I managed to find my phone in the dark, download the torch application, and thus wash the suds out of my pits.  The wonder of technology. And the wonders of everything fucking up in this country on occasion.  Pretty much every time I go to my gym, I see heaps and heaps of guys perving at themselves in the mirrors.  Bugger the fannies when you can look at your own pecs for half an hour non stop.  There is some super serious self-fancying going on there.  Once I saw one guy dancing, checking himself out and then lifting up his top while still dancing really perving on his abs.  Not just a little bit either, he was really workin' the gherkin' (or planning to later anyhow).  Dude - just get a full length mirror at home or something.  Jesus.  People need to know when to put it away.

Hey Ladies - you want it, I got it

Come on girls - I know you like this

I don't really have it - but I'm sure you want it anyway

But back to me.  As always, after all isn't this what it's all about?  Despite the fact that this blog started off about travelling with small children I seem to have made it all about myself......what can I say?  You have to go with what you know.  So last Tuesday's "Night Run" through the centre of Tel Aviv wasn't the 42.2 km I have run on 2 previous occasions.  Therefore I honestly felt it would be no big deal.  Unfortunately it was hellish and I was so puce in the face when I finished, that I looked like Alf from Home and Away after a large night on the Jack Daniels.

Complexion was never your finest asset Alfie

There were a significant number of people running - about 10 000 (including me, my husband, and my husband's nephew David).  This wasn't the largest number I have ever run with - when I did the Tokyo Marathon about 30 000 other people were running that day. It is, however, extremely interesting to compare the execution of a large public event between one of the most orderly countries on earth (obviously I'm talking about Japan) with one of the most disorderly countries on earth (Yes, you, Israel).  You would imagine that security was tight here.  Well there certainly were a lot of streets blocked off - but the guards at the gates seemed to be hanging out having a chat rather than doing any pat-down or anything.  There certainly were no rectal examinations.  Which brings me briefly to a story about a friend of mine when she heard that you had to do retinal scans to pass through immigration control in some countries.  Her response to this news was so cute -  "No way, NO WAY!!!  You actually have to pull down your pants in front of everyone while they scan your arsehole???"  This misunderstanding gave rise to the new phrase "Just sitting around on my retina" when asked what we were up to.

This guy got a bit confused too - (It's not just you Skaz)

As with the Tokyo Marathon, all runners were divided into groups A, B, C, D, E or F depending on what time you had indicated you expected you would finish in.  In Tokyo, everyone went to their exact place - spread out nicely in the vicinity of the large tower that said "C" or whatever letter you were.  As your start time approached, all the Japanese "C" runners moved slowly and carefully forward until we were given the signal to start, and we all shuffled together for the 10 minutes it took to actually cross the start line before it was "get up and go" time, and everybody was able to spread out a bit and begin the 42 kilometre journey through the middle of the city on a crispy, but clear winters day.  I remember it was 2 degrees in Tokyo that morning.  It was so cold that although I didn't feel like I sweated one bit over 4 and a half hours of running - however by the end, my skin was completely covered with a white crust of salt.  Bizarre stuff.

Mixing it Up

However, at the Tel Aviv Night Run, once you entered the gates it was all on.  There were people everywhere,  and the line up for the toilet was pointless because people just went straight to the front and cut in constantly.  There was music absolutely pumping and rubbish everywhere.  Although there were big letters on towers where you were meant to go to be with your group (as in Japan), everyone was completely mixed up.  People decided to start whenever they wanted.  As a result, there was a crowd crush to get through the first barriers to approach the bit of road in front of the starting line.  It didn't matter what letter you were - As, Bs, Cs, D, Es - everyone was packed together and pushing and shoving.  It was claustrophobic.  The MC, who was on a stage in front of us and was meant to be revving everyone up in between tracks, had to go into crowd control mode, as everyone was shouting abuse at him, and he, in turn was yelling at everyone "Rega REGA!!" (translation = wait, WAIT) complete with the "rega" hand motion.  It's my favourite of all the Israeli hand actions (and there are many - one day I will write a blog on them all).

"Rega!" - Doesn't quite have the intensity of the MC's though....

A picture of my bum at last - I have truly sunk to new lows

Nobody gave a shit about waiting of course, they just kept on pushing.  I was having a few issues breathing, and people around me already stank of sweat.  It was basically was a true example of one of my favourite terms "Clusterfuck" and it wasn't great.  Plus I had just taken 2 panadols (without a drink to wash them down), because a couple of days before I fell down the steps at home and bruised the shit out of my bum.  This kind of retarded action is common for me and happens so often that I feel no need to share it - however in this case, running sort of jarred it and made it hurt.  I decided not to be a pussy and do the run anyway.  I usually take pain killers before I run long distances anyway - I swear it helps.  But anyway, finally, after about 20 minutes of crowd crush and people going nuts about the crowd crush, we pushed through the metal barriers and were on the road approaching the start line.  A DJ playing pumping trance was on top of the start line going sick nuts - we were all ready to go!  The starting bell rang out and we were all off.

Looking serious lads

It was absolute chaos.  Pushing, shoving, jostling and weaving is what it was all about - basically it sounds like a visit to the corner store any day of the week here.  But it's difficult to hit a stride when you're over concerned in being knocked down by any number of people who don't give a shit about the fact that you are in their way.  At least the ducking and weaving took my mind off my bruises.  There was no way to know how fast you were going, unless you timed it yourself.  In Japan there were pace runners - running with helium balloons that had the number of minutes (or hours) you would finish the race in.  In Tel Aviv I saw a few pace runners at the start - but then nothing during the entire race.  Not a single one of them.  God knows what they were up to.  Stopped off for coffee maybe?  At some stages we had to run through people sitting outside at cafes - I was deeply jealous of them.  By this stage the 2 red bulls and the pasta I ate at 6pm were repeating on me.  What a mistake.  I always run on  an empty stomach, god know what I was thinking there.  As a result I felt like I was going to vomit the entire run.  Perhaps a sane person would stop or slow down, but I am a little psycho and really really wanted to finish it in under an hour (despite not being in the right shape to pull it off).

From 6-8km was pretty hellish.  Although I lost my husband, I had been running with his nephew for pretty much the entire race.  We were both pretty annoyed to see 2 "finishers" strolling down the traffic island into all the oncoming exhausted runners, wearing their medals and looking mighty satisfied with themselves.  I hated them so much, and wished I had the strength (and time allowance) to shove those medals somewhere they themselves would need a rectal examination to relieve the issue.  But I pushed on - and at about 8km I pulled my bitch move.  This is where you piss off on someone you have been running with the entire race just so you can come in earlier.  So despite my sweating problem, and my vomiting issues, and my tendency towards taking it easy, I really went for it.  And pulled a swifty on David.  Sorry Dude.

I finished the race in 60 minutes and 39 seconds.  God dam it.

The real 'before' and 'after'

Look of pain - and possibly also the look of needing to do a poo???

The next day I had to put up with all the smug people that had beat me when I went to drop the girls off at school in the morning.  One father claimed he didn't know his time and then started making all excuses about his music not working and having to fix it which slowed him down, I checked his time online - beat him by 8 minutes.  The other father wasn't saying anything, but by the chuffed look on his face I knew he had come in early.  I refused to ask him - and I know he wanted me to - I just know it.  Next time I will train like a maniac and I will kick his butt.  I WILL.  But in the meantime I have to suffer in the knowledge that I was 40 seconds too slow this year to even kick my own arse.  At least I have the bruise to blame (plus it would have hurt to kick it).  It was killing me the entire time, it really was....if it wasn't for that bruise I definitely would have come in under 60 minutes......for sure.....

I love an excuse - it was worth falling down the stairs and howling my eyes out just to have one.

The girls were impressed with the 'finishers' medals at least