It's That Time Of Year Again

Cashes in his superannuation

Something rather large that happened since I last scrawled, was that my husband turned fifty.  Fucking fifty.  The big 5 0.  No offence honey, but what an old cunt.  I'm telling you, it's making me feel old, and that's just plain selfish of him.  I never signed up for a 50 year old husband - 40-something sure, but bloody 50????  For the love of god, he's a decade off a seniors card.  It sux to be me right now.  Again, no offence intended sweetie, at least you look good......even if you are mentally and partially physically decrepit.

Yep - I'm as dumb as I look

We had a couple of celebrations - no large party because as I said, he is over the hill and as lame as you can get without being one-legged or something like that.  I had the 'brilliant' idea of taking him to one of those escape rooms that are all the rage these days.  Of course the concept started in Japan a few years back (like all the weird shit), and quickly spread.  Basically you choose some kind of a situation and get locked in a room and have to find clues for a mission, and also find a way to bust the hell out once it's all over.  It is not easy.  In fact it was pretty much impossible.  I chose a 1920s Boardwalk Empire room.  It was that or a blood-splashed Saw room (I scare easily though, and watch all horror movies with my eyes and ears covered - I still strangely enjoy them and honestly believe that I appreciate the genre). Sadly it took us about 15 minutes just to get into the main room before it all even started, and things pretty much went downhill from there.  I was useless.  Totally useless.  I'm just not cut out for logic or intelligence, and my husband is a geriatric.  It was an epic fail.  Luckily you could wave to the cameras and they would give you clues over a microphone.  We basically got hints the entire time and still didn't unlock the final door.  They rescued us and let us pose like we won.  Thanks dudes.

They let us hold the guns too - again, I just look confused

I  also organised one family surprise party that evening which slightly backfired because my husband got far too drunk with the decoy person, and was an hour late.  Meanwhile everyone was right over crouching behind the furniture in the dark.  Talk about anti-climax.  We then had dinner with friends a couple of days later, accompanied by a last minute scramble to get some kind of cool car to drive to bars and restaurants in.  Things were looking good for a while - especially when we worked out that one of the cars came with a blonde driver (she better have been hot, it was hard to tell from the photo).  However, due to financial issues we were forced to downgrade to other options.  The third car photo really was sent to my friend as one of the options in our price range.  The other ones (not pictured), looked like random cars just snapped in the street.  

We took taxis.  

It was fun though, especially the brilliant idea my friend had where we all wore "Chalky" glasses.....Wacky times......I guess you had to be there.....

So promising

So so promising

Reality

Chalk Life

Yes, fairy wings

I'm always relived when birthdays are over.  They are only truly fun when you're under 12.  Talking of the ideals of childhood, while all things horrible keep happening in the world, I dream of going back to being six years old.  How wondrous would it be to honestly think that the world was a scrummy place and all the people in it were super smashing?  A magic world where your biggest problem related to the loss of a front bottom tooth.  My little daughter had been wobbling the aforementioned  tooth for about a month.  She wasn't particularly committed to getting it out, she just loved having a 'wibbily' tooth and everybody she met she encouraged them to have a little rattle as well.  Therefore, it was with great distress when she awoke one morning to discover that Old Wibbles had finally become completely dislodged in the night and she had seemingly swallowed it.  Although we conducted a thorough bed search, there was nothing to do but to accept it was somewhere in the intestines, and to assure a weeping Vali that the tooth fairy would still come.  More importantly for me was to ensure her that searching through every turd she did for the next 3 days was definitely not necessary, because she seemed to think it was a viable option for a while.  The days of poo searching, smearing and exploring with it's texture are long over for me, and I was not making a return anytime soon.  Certainly not for a tiny little chip of calcium.  A diamond perhaps.  Or a block of tightly wrapped MDMA sure.  Now undeterred by her loss, and to make sure she collected the cash, she scrawled this little note that she later left next to her bed.  I like her focus and determination to get the cash.  Nice work V.

That's my girl - eyes on the prize

Classic Tel Aviv

But now the time draws nigh, when we once again pack our bags and head for the shores of the motherland.  Far from being over Israel, right before I leave I often become very nostalgic about the place I currently call home, and actively miss it's quirkiness when I'm back admiring the cleanness of the Australian city streets.  I forget about the stabbers and the social unrest and fondly think about the dog walkers and the fruit sellers that yell "Wah Wah Wee Wah" every 5 seconds while you're shopping for figs (usually intensely annoying btw).  One of my current favourite things about Israel is paying for good or services with your credit card.  While a credit card payment in Australia goes along with a severe signature check (although not anymore as I keep realising, it's all about the tapping these days isn't it?), a purchase in Europe is accompanied by a thorough ID check to make sure you haven't swiped some sucker's lifeline and bought up big time at H&M while on holiday in London.  In Israel it's a far more breezy and carefree transaction.  I have since learnt, after multiple lashes with the old creddie that it is totally acceptable to not only sign the recipe with a single stroke of a pen, but to actually use your fingernail to scratch a scribble on the dotted line.  And you don't have to be too artistic about it either, a faint scratch or a zig zag will leave an impression that justifies as proof of ownership of your card.  I tell you it's liberating.  I'm going to try it in Myers in Melbourne next week and see how it goes down.

Fingernail signing at it's finest

Cluster Fuck

Signing like you don't give a fuck is almost as liberating as city driving.  After having a little sooky fit (or ten) in my first days on the road - blown away by the intensity and the seeming aggression on the roads, I have learnt that a breezy attitude to driving is what all the cool kids are doing.  By all means refuse to choose a lane and just either sit in the middle of 2 of them, or casually swing between as many as you like.  Just drift - nobody cares.  In fact they actually expect you to do it, so you may as well.  You can even change your mind at the last minute and drive diagonally across 4 lanes in the middle of the city's busiest highway. Become a hazard to those around you - don't even glance in your rear vision mirror when you decide to do a 3 pointer on a busy main road.  Anything goes - just embrace the chaos.  That pretty much goes for life in general here.  There is no other way - and no point fighting against it. "Find the Joy in The Chaos" should actually be Israel's slogan, rather than "A Land of Milk and Honey".

Stuffed them full of falafel and hummus

I must admit, I do feel a tad on the guilty side for ripping my children out of school for close to a month.  I realise that they are only 6, and they are busting to see all their family and friends - but it's not like they get a choice.  And they, much more than myself or my husband have really built a life for themselves here.  They adore school - they are always busy and active, and their social life is awe-inspiring.  Today was a major moment on the play-date scene.  Previously all of their play dates are with their friends who all have English as their first language.  But today's girl party was with two little girls who know no English at all.  Hearing them chat away to their friends in Hebrew as I drove them all back to our place was both exciting and degrading.  I tried to fumble with a bit of Hebrew and was immediately corrected by my daughters.  They then proceeded to translate for me and add that their poor Mummy couldn't really speak the national dialect.

It's becoming a slight issue.  Now that I've left the bilingual kindergarten and my Mummies group of ex-pats and have plunged into Israeli society, things have got tricky regarding communication.  I keep missing all of the texts the group of mothers from the school sends out to each other.  At first I really tried to read all the messages and discovered quite a lot were things along the lines of "good job" and 'aren't all the children sweeties?".  They took me 20 minutes to read so I gave up not long after, and ended up missing all these major events taking place at, and after, school.  I didn't take costumes for concerts, didn't give permission for an excursion, and I have no idea what day is actually sports day so I send them to school in their sports clothes every second day just in case.  But it wasn't until I missed an after-school birthday party that my girls really became disappointed in my mothering skills.  On the way home I posed the question;  "Do you girls wish I was Hebrew speaking like all the other mothers?".  One little muffin responded "No Mummy, I love you just the way you are"  (major presents from Santa going on for her this year).....but the other one seemed to be avoiding answering by looking out the window and I swear I heard her whistling to herself.  Hmmm - nice cover up Squirt.

And it's only going to get worse.

Brilliant

But off we go to drink alcohol in the sun and sing songs about baby Jesus - by the way I can never say, write, or think about baby Jesus anymore with out thinking of that scene from Kath and Kim where Kath tells Kim to get a statue of baby Jesus for her wedding, and comes in to see that Kim has constructed a statue made out of mini Babybel  cheeses ("Kimmy I said Little Baby Jesus not Little Baby Chesus").  It's a brilliant moment in Aussie bogan speak isn't it?  My children of course cannot wait to get a sack of loot from a fat guy in a red velvet suit trimmed in white fluff (it is velvet isn't it?).  And I'm still waiting to get busted as a WASP with two heathen children having a religious Jewish education.  I get dirty looks from the headmistress every morning, but others have ensured me it's actually her natural expression - scary.  Really.

But in the meantime, Shabat Shalom everyone.

Love, Death and Fear

Very very much

Expected this....

Just an amusing antidote before I forget it, and instead descend into the current vibe of shock and sadness that is difficult to come to terms with.....My daughter has recently discovered "Siri" on my iPhone.  She's been having quite a good time getting Siri to show her pictures of baby animals in costumes, and asking all sorts of questions about space and chocolate.  However, yesterday she requested (with great excitement) Siri to show her pictures of "Snorty Pigs" - obviously expecting piglets (who doesn't love a baby pig?).  What she actually got shown was a whole lot of photos of people doing lines.  My husband got quite the shock when she shoved the phone in his face and said "what's he DOING Daddy?".  That is some hard shit to explain away.  I was so glad to be on the toilet at that particular moment.

Got this instead....pattern making with your stash - interesting decision

The bride was hot

It's the end of wedding season here in Israel, and we managed to get a guernsey to quite the party.  Ah weddings - there's nothing quite like them.  And if you want a taste of over-the-top then an Israeli wedding is right up your ally.  I've been to six weddings in this country and while four of them have been pretty tasteful, there has been an element of outlandishness in each of them - whether it's 100 disco balls hanging from the dance floor ceiling, an Arabic dance session around a multi-tiered wedding cake or three outfit changes for the bride.....they all have something a bit out there.

They Do

Or..... they have a lot of 'out there' like the half Moroccan half Russian wedding I attended last week on the Jordanian border.  That in itself was something - it took two hours from Tel Aviv, and we basically had to drive right on the border of the West Bank three quarters of the way around it's perimeter to get there.  We got lost for ages and couldn't find the venue which was pretty weird considering it was an absolutely giant structure, covered in flashing lights and looked like "Tara" from Gone With The Wind - on acid.  There were fountains in the front yard, multi-coloured spotlights, and giant plumes of smoke from a huge BBQ set-up they had going on.   

The outfits of the guests were also something...... original - 'very tight and very bright' seemed to be the theme.  I must have missed the memo - I looked like I was off to have afternoon tea with a distant friend's mother.   A hundred balloons with I 'Heart' You were handed out just before the bride took to the aisle and were promptly released into the skies. The prayers were said, the glass was smashed and like that they were bound til death did them part.

A light or two

It was time to go inside - unfortunately for my retinas I didn't bring my sunglasses.  Two thousand  revolving lights hit me full in the face upon entering.  I copped one direct to the eyeball every three seconds.  The vibe was high, the shots were potent (and served in shot glasses with flashing lights inside them - nothing was spared from the lights), and the dancing was on.  There were Russian grandfathers on shoulders, Moroccan grandmothers shaking it in purple taffeta.....quite a lot of sexy dancing for the over 60s I must say - and kudos to them - if you've still got it then show it off.  Even if you don't still have it, you may as well give it a red hot crack regardless.  I love Russian party culture - the dudes cut sick and the music is awesome.  Gotta get myself to Moscow one of these days.....

Shot with a flashing light anyone?

Weddings make me happy

The first course was brains in oil.  Again, an interesting decision.....what can I say, some people love the filthy things.  I am not one of those people though - I think any animal organ is fairly fucking questionable as a food source - unless you're starving and locked in some place and have to eat raw rats or something.  By far my favourite part of the night was the first dance for the bride and groom.  Not only was there the 2000 lights and pictures of the couple flashed up onto the screen behind them;  but the song was "When a Man Loves A Woman" - a classic -  and there was also a smoke machine, a bubble machine and a giant explosion of heart shaped confetti.  And if that wasn't enough - there were some definite Dirty Dancing moves going on as well, plus a bit of arse grabbing and grinding.  I was impressed.  It takes guts to dry hump your new wife in front of her grandparents.

The Patrick Swayze lift - came right before the dry sex segment

Amateur I know, but it was the best we could do in the dark

A couple of days later everyone's favourite American holiday was back in Tel Aviv - Halloween of course.  But here in Tel Aviv it has a particular twist - "Trunk or Treat" here we come.  Basically because no Israelis give a shit about Halloween, and apartment blocks are not so easy to trick or treat in (or cover in toilet paper and dog shit), a large group of parents drive to a public carpark, decorate their car boots, and then all their kids wearing costumes go round to all the cars and get bucketloads of candies.  Sounds pretty lame doesn't it?  That's because it is.  The best part of the night was dressing up in our costumes at my mate's place.  We all really embraced the zombie theme.  I had gone and bought tons of fake blood - and what more do you need to become a hideous brain eating dead person?  It was only when we were wandering around the streets terrifying people that my friend suggested that covering yourself in blood and having bleeding wounds all over your chest maybe wasn't the best move in this sort of sensitive climate with all the stabbings going on.  Yep, I didn't really think of that.

Our  little freaks take it to the streets

Embracing the theme

Yep- we actually went out like this in public

The Undead and their Cutie Pie friends

Listen, trying to establish Halloween here in Israel is a nice idea - but what a crappy location.  The carpark was pitch black, windy and chilly.  There were still regular cars speeding around the place, plus various 'trunk or treaters'  reversing their jeeps willy nilly, and a whole bunch of kids scrounging for lollies and walking around in the dark.  I am truly shocked that no midgets got run down, because they were all asking for it.  Quite a few of the girl's little friends were there - they all seemed to be dressed kind of  cute though.  Pretty little dresses, and princess and kitty outfits.....and there alongside them were my little horrors - the undead - completely splashed in half a litre of fake blood, and a terrifying senior zombie for a mother.  Some of their friend's mothers seemed slightly taken aback "You look SCARY' was a common comment.  Pardon my ignorance as a clueless Australian but isn't that the point?  It was only later that a friend of mine reminded me about Lindsey Lohan's Halloween discovery in Mean Girls - never go terrifying, always go cute, or once you pass 14 - slutty.  Next time....next time....the girls can be ladybirds and I'll go as a slutty bee.  Pretty much any outfit can be slutorised - I however, from the entire 'Tramp Range', prefer the promiscuous bee.

Vali loves to terrify

Meanwhile across town, on October 31st, two very different events were taking place - the World Cup Rugby final between Australia and New Zealand; and the memorial for the shooting of the Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.  As far as sport on television goes, I am unmoved.  I wanted to care, but for a start I don't really get the rules, and secondly I knew we'd lose to the bloody Kiwis.  And of course we did - that always sucks. I prefer to remain neutral - even it it means betraying my own country.  I'd have made a terrible spy, or a good one - depending on my spy sponsor. 

It's good to know people still care

I would have liked to attend the memorial for Rabin - purely because I thought it would be atmospheric - 100 000 people gathering in hope of peace is fairly significant - and particularly poignant in this current climate.  My only concern was that the roads were going to be blocked off,  and that our entire zombie gang was going to have to get out of the car and walk past people gathered together against violence and bloodshed - and there would be the 6 of us covered in splattered blood and wounds.  It would have gone down badly, extremely badly.  

Unfulfilled hope

The former Prime Minister (Rabin) was assassinated in 1995 by a right wing Jewish extremist.  This was because Rabin, after wining a Nobel Peace Prize, was on the fast track to creating real peace with the Palestinians.  Things were looking seriously good thanks to the signing of the Oslo Accord.  Unfortunately a lot of people weren't into it - particularly the arsehole who shot him in the chest at a rally in the centre of Tel Aviv. Since then things have gone pretty much downhill for the peace process.  Nobody who I've spoken to about recent events expresses any hope for peace in their lifetime.  Well, peace or no peace, thousands of people attended to remember a man who inspired hope for a peaceful future, and good old Bill Clinton popped over here to Israel to give a speech about Rabin.   Clinton is still his charismatic self and remains the darling of the Israelies who continue to care about the peace process, while current Prime Minister, Bibi Netanyahu is seriously on the nose with the same crowd thanks to his constant assurances that Israel will be 'living by the sword' for quite a few years to come - way to be positive, arsehole.  

Tonight Rabin Square is lit up in blue, white and red in show of support for France.  There is quite a sizeable French population here in Israel, and large numbers of people are currently gathering to show solidarity and humanity amongst tragedy.  I myself wonder what the fuck will happen next.  How will France deal with the 'enemy within' so to speak.  Many forecasters speculate that this is just beginning and that many attacks will follow, not just in France but in many Western countries.  It's a terrifying thought. But how can they be stopped?   "They" being the people who want to cause as much carnage and fear as they possibly can.  Do European countries and America have the stomach to take steps to prevent future attacks?  Are they willing and able to go to the lengths regarding security that Israel has been forced to adopt after decades of attacks by extremists?  And what of the Syrian refugees who are fleeing from exactly that sort of mayhem and terror in their own homelands?  What will become of them now as more and more countries close their borders through fear and distrust?  And adding further to the problem now, (as Jon Snow would say - I really miss G.O.T) - winter is coming.  And for the love of god, a northern European winter is long and brutal, and you do not want to be outside for any of it - unless many litres of mulled wine are on offer.     

I spent the rest of the Halloween evening throwing away 20 tons of sugar before my girls fully realised the sheer volume they scored.  It was horrifying  - almost as horrifying as the state of the bath after we all took showers when we got home.  The fake blood almost came off, I was riding on the hope that the school headmistresses wouldn't wonder what the red stains on my children's arms and torsos were the next day.  At least we could wash our 'blood' off though.  The violence has continued here in Israel day after day, just as it has over the last few days in Bagdad, Beruit and now the horrific situation in Paris last night. No wonder everyone is hashtagging #prayforparis, you feel helpless in the face of tragedy - and praying (even if you never do it otherwise) seems like a solid option.  But I quite like the cartoon posted by Charlie Hebdo (seen below).  It's true - Paris really is about celebrating life.