A Month Like No Other

Australia meets Israel in one glorious pavlova creation

Ah yes, I've decided to do something I haven't done for quite some time - well I did mention that I might be somewhat occupied over the last few weeks.  And I would like to announce  that the parentals have now left the building.....well and truly.  I would also like to mention that my parents are two of the sweetest, kindest most loving people on the planet.  I would also like to add that I have never spent so much time in their company.  24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 5 weeks.  Not even as a baby was I hanging out with them so long.  I was in creche a lot as an infant. It was for the best - I was apparently a little "bumhole" - direct quote from my father by the way.

Love you my honeys  - especially from afar......

 Possibly as a foetus I was hanging out with them more, but my senses were dulled by all that liquid, and it was mainly just Mum, so it's totally not the same.  During this last month I slept on one of Ikea's "finest" mattresses in our bomb shelter.   That was an experience I am never volunteering for again.  Have you seen how thin those fuckers are? Jesus, I should have just slept on my yoga mat.  Nothing like a body that is stiff and stuck in one rigid position to make you feel that warm family-loving fuzz.  It didn't help that they kept boasting about how comfortable our bed was.  I KNOW you bastards - it's my god dam bed.......at least it was.  When they referred to my room as "ours" I decided their days were numbered.....luckily they left the country before the poison I ordered online arrived (again no offence Mum and Dad.....).

I'm going to avoid the whole roadtrip through France discussion.  What can I say? - wine, cheese, chateaux, hours and hours in a small car, stuffing my kids with lollies to shut them up and letting them watch The Lorax 3000 times.  The good times.  It was great - I'm not going to boast - I'm annoying enough anyway.

Tel Aviv Street Style

One thing that really impressed itself on me was this: during my time away in Australia and France, I was extremely homesick for Israel.  Honestly I was.  I actually got a bit misty in the eye when I saw the Tel Aviv version of Pharrell William's "Happy" clip.  I did.  And it really surprised me.  Coming home was an extremely pleasant experience.  This place is alive.  It is pumping and it is passionate.  People love their country, and that has been no more obvious to me than the events of the last month.

First came Pesach - or Passover.  This is the biggie everyone.  The build up, the anticipation, the songs, the special dinner.  But I would like to mainly address the issue of bread.  Bread is a big No No.  Huge No No during the week of Passover.  This has to do with the haste in which the Jewish  slaves fled Egypt, so much so, their bread didn't have time to rise.  In recognition of this, only a flat bread - Matza is permitted at this time of year.  It's more like a dry cracker really, and I must say I don't rate it.  People clear out their shops of ALL wheat products - including pasta, crackers, breadcrumbs.  Bakeries shut their doors for a week and typically renovate their stores.  The entire country is in Bread Shut Down.  You can notice the odd Arab with a stall of bread on the side of the highway flogging it off to the sinners.  I was hoping that it was an highly illegal trade in bread products, but apparently it is not law breaking.  Imagine that - you strike up a conversation with your cell room mate who is doing 6 consecutive life sentences for child murder, and admit to him that you had a hankering for a brioche and the rest was history.  Sux to love your carbs that much.

Side of the road illegal bread trade

Get out of my sight

Anyway - people go a bit matza mad.  They start making shit with matza during that week that you have to ask yourself "What the FUCK are these people doing?".  Even my own husband soaked a big pile of that dry cracker crap in some water and then when it was all soggy put egg in it, and them cooked up that mess in a big frypan and fed it to my babies.  There was a questionable "cake" served at the Passover dinner that consisted of (correct me if I'm wrong here) layers of matza, nutella and wine - one on top of the other.  Some people may love this, but in my definition this cannot masquerade as a cake.  It's like making a mountain of vita-wheats, peanut butter and champagne, sticking a lit cigarette in the top of it as a candle and trying to palm it off at a birthday party.  That shiz don't fly - no matter how much nutella you put in it.  I would usually lick nutella off the bottom of a shoe, but I could not face the matza cake.  I could not.  Then there was the matza crumbled in a cup of coffee by my brother in law.  And that was on the second attempt.  On the first attempt he put two teaspoons of salt in it by accident thinking it was sugar.  That was funny to watch.  Then I was worked on to appreciate all the things you could with matza by making it soggy first - roll it, deep fry it - but to me, a soggy biscuit is a soggy biscuit.  Repulsive in every way.

Syria Spotting

In between this week of 1000 ways with Matza, we kept up a hefty touring schedule.  Took my mother to the border of Syria and Israel.  I think she was pleasantly surprised - and I'm sure that's something she never thought she's admit to.  Go on, shut your eyes and imagine what it's like.  Well, it's not like that at all.  At least these days it's not.  You do see the odd tank and shot up structure to remind you that that area was not all grass and vineyards once upon a time.  But these days it is peaceful.  And pretty.  Saw some crusaders castles, visited the ancient town of Caesarea and Masada, floated in The Dead Sea, stayed on the edge of a naturally formed crater in a fancy pants hotel, visited Jerusalem......all your good old special sights of Israel.  What a month.



And then came 2 extremely solemn days in the Jewish calendar - Holocaust Memorial Day and a week later the Memorial Day for all the Israeli soldiers.  On Holocaust Memorial Day the sirens ring out over the city and every person, every car, every bus, and every truck stops still.  People get out of their vehicles - even on the highways - and stand straight with their head bowed to acknowledge and remember that a third of the world's Jews were murdered 70 years ago.  And there they remain for several minutes.  Then the sirens stop and the world starts up again.  But people are much quieter in the streets that day.  Sometimes I wonder how Vali and Cordi will one day deal with the realisation that such brutality happened to their own family and people.  Like everyone I guess.  With disbelief, heartache, grief and despair.

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them up with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone".
(Rose Kennedy)

A week later is the memorial day for the Israeli soldiers.  All the shops close that evening and everybody tries to deal with the fact that their young people are still dying protecting their country and people.  Whatever your political views, the pain of loss is real, and it is relevant for so many citizens here.  In this case, as my sister in law said - here the wound is still fresh.

My little patriot

That's one serious flag

Then at sundown, Yom Ha'Atzma'ut begins.  As my daughter's American kindergarten teacher said to me this morning - it's like the 4th of July on crack.  Brilliantly said. This year was Israel's 66th Independence Day - dating from 1948 when the State of Israel was established.  I would like to mention that I have never seen a display of patriotism like it.  Much much more than when our Cathy Freeman took gold at the Sydney Olympics.  Much much more than a pack of 21 year old Aussies smashed on beer at ANZAC Cove on Australia Day.  No matter how many "Aussie Aussie Aussie Oy Oy Oy"s we chant out, no matter how many Aussie flags we use as capes, no matter how many vegemite sandwiches we stick to our bodies, we could never match the love of country I have witnessed here with my own two eyes.  For a start - the flags.  They go up early - first they start creeping onto cars a couple of weeks before.  Then a few people hang them off their balconies, then shops and businesses start plastering them all over the outside of their walls.  Then there are whole lines of them being strung up everywhere.  Seriously, I could not walk down the street without snagging my hair on a Star of David.

*The following images contain pictures of food.  I am still denying this is a food post, but you have been warned in advance.

Testing the brand new big boy

you will eat it and you will love it

Looking for planes

There they are!!!

Run wild my darlings, draw on the walls,  Mumma is written off today

All the street parties started at sundown the night before, and went all night long.  So did the roof parties.  I sat on my balcony and listened to the music and spied on all the drunk people.  Then the next day was the big celebration for Israel's birthday.  The atmosphere is intoxicating - the whole city smells like smoky meat.  We had a BBQ too.  There is an air show of fighter jets and helicopters along the beach at midday - all perfectly viewed from our balcony.  The guests arrived early and I immediately got them drunk on cocktails.  Fuck coffees - a total piss-up is how we Aussie's love to roll.  The meat was BBQ'ed, the salads laid out.  The parents got hammered and the kids ran wild.  I made a pavlova and Vali stuck an Israeli flag in it.  It all slopped off the plate and I cut my finger apart trying to serve it - I did mention the cocktails didn't I??  Then after we got rid of the guests, it was off to a street party to get more drunk and obnoxious.  What can I say? - it's what I do best......Hangovers aren't what I do best though.  However, the week before's was worse though.  On that occasion I walked through the door at 4.30 in the morning to be greeted by my husband and daughter.  The first words were "Cordi's just vomited all over the floor in our room, and you have to deal with it". It wasn't quite the collapse into bed I had in mind. Then, in what seemed like an instant, I awoke to the call "The kids have to be at school in 15 minutes or they're going to miss the parade".  I was still upright on the couch still wearing all my clothes from the night before including my shoes.  The school drop-off was highly unpleasant.

Old bung eye strikes again

Street fun

Why do I do it??

Yes, I am running in the streets and wearing an Israeli flag as a cape

So let life return to normal.  Let me stop sweating vodka and craving bread products.  Let me go back to my own beloved bed and stop driving a 7 seater mini bus around unforgiving city streets.  Let me stop sitting up to 3am in the morning waiting for my fucking pavlova to cook, and for the love of god, let the neighbours move their blood stained mattress off the footpath outside my house.......

See what I mean?  It's just so gross

It was all pretty fun though......