text

As I exited Hof HaCarmel train station in Haifa, it started to rain. I said a silent prayer in my head, "Please don't let it rain hard before I get home. Let it be just a little wet until I'm inside." And then I thought about my 15 minute walk and despaired that I'd make it home even slightly dry. I watched other former train passengers get into their cars as I walked across the parking lot toward the building where I live.

The rain did let up, and by the time I got five minutes away from the train station it was perfectly dry. I hardly noticed that, though, because my attention was taken up with watching the large bulldozer that was coming down the street toward me. It had bright headlights and was moving faster than bulldozers usually do when actually bulldozing things. As it got close to me, it turned toward the sidewalk where I was walking in such a way that I couldn't tell if the driver was planning to park next to the curb, but sharply, or if he was planning to come up on top of the curb.

My mind zipped through different scenarios to decide what I should do to stay safe. Maybe the driver didn't see me. Or maybe he's about to pull a "Jerusalem Construction Worker". I moved quickly as far away from the edge of the sidewalk as I could get. If he was just pulling up to park, no big deal, but he was clearly coming towards me.

The bulldozer stopped just short of the sidewalk where I was standing, and the door opened up. The driver leaned out and said something I couldn't understand over the sound of the engine from where I was at the far side of the sidewalk away from the road. I stepped closer, "What?"

"How do I get to the shopping mall?" he asked.

I stood there baffled for a moment, and then described the route to him, "You go until you get to the roundabout. Then you turn right and go up and over the bridge right there," I pointed to the bridge a few hundred meters in front of us, "After the bridge you go right, and then you won't have any choice but to go left. Then you'll see the mall up ahead."

"OK Ummm... Is there a little grocery store any closer than that in this neighborhood?"

"Not that I know of!" I responded.

"OK, thanks!" and then he closed his door and drove onward following the directions I'd just given him.

I was still laughing to myself about the man who drives his bulldozer to get some milk when a small red car passed me going the same direction as I was walking and then stopped in the middle of the road about 10 meters ahead. He waited there for me to reach him. I expected him to ask me for directions. Instead, the man leaned out his window, corn-cob pipe between his lips and asked, "Do you want a ride to the next bus stop or are you having fun walking?"

I thought about it for a split second. A moment ago I'd wished that I could get a ride, but it was raining then. Now there was no rain at all, just a strong sea breeze and the sound of the waves. I decided to keep on walking, "I'm fine walking. But thank you very much!"

I really did appreciate the offer. I felt uniquely blessed. The rain let up for me AND I was offered a ride. How lucky is that? I said thanks in my head and savored the feeling of gratefulness in my heart. It felt really good.

Today I spent the day up in Haifa, mostly walking and busing around the different neighborhoods and looking at areas where I'd seen apartments in my price range on Websites. I settled on two neighborhoods that I'll be looking to live in. Both are good neighborhoods but still have places I can afford. Both are fast, easy trips to a train station. So, now my apartment hunt is really in full swing.

On the way back to Tel Aviv, I was on a very crowded train and I sat next to a little girl and her grandmother. A moment after I sat down I noticed that the two were playing a game kind of like hangman. the grandmother was writing words in Arabic, but writing x's in place of some of the letters. Then the little girl had to guess the word and write it correctly. They played that for a while, and then they played another game where the grandmother wrote numbers and letters on the paper backwards and forwards and the little girl had to pick out which ones were written correctly.

After a little while, I leaned over and said in Hebrew to the little girl, "I want to learn, too. Can you teach me?" I wasn't actually sure if the little girl spoke Hebrew, but I figured that if not, either the grandmother would be able to translate, or else we'd make due with writing and sounding things out. I'm good at making myself understood in those sorts of situations -- with kids at least.

The little girl looked at her grandmother and then at me and said, "I can't teach you!"

The grandmother smiled and said, "Sure you can! Just show her the letters and what they sound like, and then show her some words."

And so she did. I listened to the little girl, and repeated the names of the letters and the sounds after her. Her grandmother corrected her when she wrote something backwards. And then I copied the words and the little girl corrected my mistakes. It was fun. I think she and I were both doing a good job of reinforcing our meager Arabic writing skills.

The grandmother said that the little girl was 6 years old and goes to a multilingual school in Yafo where she learns Hebrew, Arabic and English. The girl showed off her knowledge of the ABC's in English. I made appropriately appreciative noises. Then we both wrote our names in all three languages. I didn't know how to write my name in Arabic and she didn't know how to write her name in English, so we again had a chance to teach each other something.

The grandmother asked if I'm a teacher. "No," I said, but I took that as a compliment.

Right before I got off the train I showed them pictures of my grandson and his dad. "See? I'm a grandmother, too." I was glad that the "other" grandmother didn't proceed to tell me that I'm far too young. I'm kinda getting sick of that.

We waved goodbye and the little girl blew me a kiss as I headed to the door at my stop.

It's one of the things that most annoys me about this country. The right and the left are the same -- maybe not "self hating", but "haters" just the same. Oh, some say, "No, we don't hate anyone," but their actions betray them. And me, am I a hater, too? I guess so. I hate listening to people talk about how such and such a thing isn't "how we do it here" as an excuse not to improve themselves or how there "is no point" in political activism because politics is controlled by the greedy few and there's nothing you can do about it.

So much of my experience of this country is about helplessness and hopelessness and anger. It bleeds into the way people push onto the bus or drive their cars on the highway.

And then someone does something so sweet, so good. And that becomes my picture of "real Israelis". The juice of this country, the honey of it, is like the little boy I told on Friday night about my son. "He doesn't want to play with the other kids because he doesn't speak Hebrew well and he's afraid that you guys won't like him because of it," I explained. The little boy said, "Playing with kids who don't speak Hebrew is great! We can use our imaginations even more!" and then he went off to gather all the other kids at the party and bring them over to my son, introduce everyone and start a game that didn't require great linguistic skills. That's the sweetness of this land, and sometimes it feels rare, but it is here.

I'm brought to mind of a advertising campaign a little while back. I don't even remember the product -- maybe it was cell phone service, but I'm not sure. What I remember was that it was about IDF soldiers and Palestinians on opposite sides of the security wall. A soccer ball comes over the wall from the Palestinian side. A soldier kicks it back. A friendly game ensues, of the ball passing back and forth. The Israeli left had a cow over that. "OMG!!! How cynical can this company be?! Don't they know how evil Israel is? How evil the IDF is? How evil the wall is???!!!!" Some people posted videos of what really happens when a ball goes over the fence by accident. It's not pretty or idyllic, let's just put it that way. I didn't say anything at the time, but all I could think is, "What the hell is YOUR problem? Don't you understand that this is wishful thinking?"

Look, obviously, it wouldn't be safe to have a game like that. Are you kidding? The ball could be a bomb, for heavens sake! That's not hatred of Palestinians speaking, it's fear of the sick and twisted things that people do in conflict. But, there are stories of people reaching beyond their wars and their battles, moments of peace in the midst of terror, and those stories give hope. There's that story about the two sides in a battle in WW2 (or was it WW1) who got out of their trenches on Christmas and celebrated together for just one night. The next day they were back in their trenches and shooting each other again. Such hope. Such tragedy. It reminds us of the stupidity of our violence, and the possibilities for another path.

But this post isn't about just that one commercial. It's about the attitude that seems to be pervasive here towards hope: You shouldn't have too much of it, or else you are a stupid fool. Optimism is cause for ridicule. Wishful thinking is not a way of envisioning a better option but just a waste of time. If you don't build walls around your heart, grow spikes on your skin then you aren't a REAL Israeli, and you are nothing but a freier.

A freier is worse than a sucker. A freier volunteers for things. A freier gives too much money to charity. A freier lets other people walk all over them and use them. A freier is a loser, short and simple.

But that image is totally messed up. Even my most cynical friends volunteer to help out someone or something. Even my most hardened acquaintances give money to help someone in need or give money to support some cause that they believe in. Even the most Israeli of Israelis have their soft moments when they let down their guard and are soft. That's not being a freier. Not at all. That's being human.

In case you are wondering what prompted this rant, I'd like to send you off to someone else's essay on Israeli hardness and what it is to be a hero here. I think that they hit it right on the head. A true hero IS a freier and that's a damned good thing to be.

So stuff all that pretension to strength and prickliness and just breathe a bit. Be the goodness you want to see in the world, and don't worry about the repercussions. Dream a little about what you wish the world were like, and don't be afraid of the fact that we aren't there now. It's OK. This life is a journey, not a destination, so be soft and walk toward that world you want to live in one sweet and foolish action at a time.

StreamingIsrael is a project of American-Israeli Lisha Sterling. The site started out as an experiment in live-streaming video with Qik and Flixwagon to show people what everyday life in Israel is really like. Unhappy with the low quality of the video that came out of cell phone live-streaming, Lisha decided to use pre-recorded videos instead.

Over time, she has added more variety to the content on the site. Today there are videos and photos taken by Lisha as well as content created by other people. Most video and photo entries are now posted with at least some explanatory text. Sometimes posts are text only.

The site's main focus is still the life of ordinary Israelis going about their daily lives, but occasionally there are essays about politics, religion, gender issues, ethnic issues, war or peace. The fact of the matter is that all of those are important parts of everyday life in Israel, too, and can't be ignored in an honest look at life here.

When she's not sharing a window onto Israel as she sees it, Lisha gets into all sorts of other trouble. She is a Web developer and Linux systems administrator. She advises small businesses and startups on how to use Open Source software and hardware to get more done more efficiently and on a reasonable budget. She is a reporter for CrictorNews. She writes fiction and poetry. And she coaches figure skaters at iSkate in Luna Park in Tel Aviv.

If you are interested in any of those other pursuits, you are invited to what she's writing about over at AlwaysSababa, her main professional Web site and blog.

Imagine a gray and windy day. It's not so much raining as misting, but it's a thick mist and cuts visibility down to a couple hundred meters (yards) or so. Now, give that a golden tint and make the mist super fine sand instead of tiny water drops. If you take a deep breath of the air, the smell reminds you of the underside of your bed when you went looking for something that got lost under there.

If you are asthmatic, the dust makes it very hard to breathe. You'll need your inhaler a lot, and you should cover your face with a scarf. Sure, you might look like a one of those religious fanatics, but everyone understands. If you really care about appearances, just use a knitted scarf that's obviously European.

The sand is really fine, so even though you have the windows closed, you won't be saved from it's effects. It seems to magically appear as a thin film on your floor -- more so than on regular days, and that says a lot.

That's a Tel Avivi sandstorm.

It's not dramatic like in the movies. No one goes running for cover. Life goes on as normal, but perhaps a bit muted, just like the color of the sky and landscape. You wish it were rain instead of sand. We really need the rain. A grayish day like this should really bring rain. But you have to admit, the golden color is kinda pretty.

I was just looking at a satellite image of Israel on some else's blog, and I noticed something spectacular. You can actually see the borders of Israel from space.

If you want to try this for yourself, go to http://maps.google.com and type "Israel" in the search bar. Switch to Satellite view, then hover over the Satellite button to see the show labels checkbox and turn off the labels. You can see the borders quite clearly at seven marks up from the bottom of the zoom slider.

I've said before that I don't like to talk about politics on this site. I'd rather keep it politics-free and just show you what living in Israel is actually like. People tell me that they are surprised that we have highways. They don't expect to see modern shopping malls or tree-lined streets. And, where are all the camels? (I'd like to know that, too. I've only seen two camels the whole time I've lived in Israel, both in the Negev, and one of them was serving as a carnival ride.)

The thing is, it's hard to watch what's going on right now and NOT talk about politics. I mean, people are DYING! That's not just politics. That's a lot more, and I can't just ignore it here on StreamingIsrael, pretend that it isn't happening.

First off, let me make something really clear. I am a lefty. Yes, that kind of lefty. The liberal kind that thinks that there should be a Two State Solution and all that jazz. I'm a Lefty and a Zionist, which may freak some of you right out, but trust me, these two things are NOT in opposition.

I don't like to talk about the whole Israel v. Palestine thing or Israel v. Arabs thing here. It's much too complex to talk about in the midst of a site about Israel in general and I don't want to give the idea that I think that there are any simple answers. Anyone who tells you that there are simple answers is full of it and has absolutely no idea what's going on here or what has gone on here in the last 100 years.

BUT... there's no REAL logic in closing down a West Bank factory because you oppose the occupation. When you pull a factory out of a place like the Barkan Industrial Park, you aren't really saying "the occupation is bad". You are really taking away jobs from the people that you claim to be standing up for.

I would not live in the West Bank. Let's make that clear. No matter HOW cheap it is in Ariel, that's not reason enough for me. However, I wouldn't think twice about taking a job in the West Bank, if the company was an equal opportunity employer, and especially if there were many Palestinians employed there.

Hell, I'd like to see a lot more (non-Jewish) Arabs employed in high tech startups in Tel Aviv. So far, I've only met one. ONE! Seriously, there's something wrong with that. It's exactly like having no black or female programmers in a startup in Oakland, California. Exactly like that.

The international boycotts around Israel and the Occupied Territories are misguided at best, absolutely anti-Jewish at worst. Hurting pro-Palestinian academics and closing down factories that hire Palestinians is NOT the way to peace in the Middle East.

Will someone please wake up and smell the coffee??!!!

One of the blogs that I read on a regular basis is called Israeli by Day, American by Night. Today I was catching up on some reading and saw this post about bulldozers and construction in Jerusalem and the aftermath of the two recent bulldozer attacks.

Now, I strongly suspect that at least one, if not both, of those attacks were not "terrorist" attacks, but cases of individual men just snapping under the strain of life. That happens everywhere, and when it does it doesn't get political overtones unless there is an ethnic twist. For those of you who haven't noticed, it was in the USA during the 80's that the term "going postal" was coined, and I think that's just exactly what happened here, too. No one started fearing the postman or claiming that postal workers were terrorists. They were mostly white postmen shooting up their coworkers, too, so there was no reason to pull the race card. The problem is that our bulldozer incidents did have an ethnic twist, so there is absolutely no objectivity about the situation.

The post at Israeli by Day is fantastic, because it shows both how this can happen, and how events like these effect ordinary people afterwards.

There's a bit of a trend going on in Israeli advertising these days in which advertisers imagine what our neighbors and other folks who don't like "us" or something about their product would have to say. There are two of these commercials from Satellite TV company YES. One is of ultra orthodox men in black coats and hats singing and dancing about how terrible YES HDTV is because it allows you to sin with clearer pictures. (You know, 'cuz you shouldn't see all that stuff they have on TV...) There's another commercial in which the Iranians get all excited about destroying Israel until they realize that their war timetable is going to interfere with watching their favorite Israeli TV program.

There's another commercial for a fuel efficient Nissan that depicts Arabs cursing the car because it saves so much fuel. I've heard that this one has gotten a reaction. Someone (or ones) has launched a website .. duh-duh-duh! ... cursing Nissan because of the ad.

Ummmm... duh... "We don't do stupid stuff like cursing cars because they are fuel efficient, and I CURSE YOU for even suggesting that we would!!"

Can people just stop being caricatures of the worst of themselves for a minute? PLEASE?

Miriam Schwab at IsraelPlug suggests that someone should start an initiative called "Sense of Humor for Middle East Peace"

Now, there's one piece that all falls into place with that FOX news piece. MBC ran a story about the ad and then started a conversation about how Israelis are fueling profits with "hatred and racism". Shall we compare this to the sorts of things in Arabic TV that fuel hatred against Jews and against Israel? This commercial is a JOKE. That lovely mouse that taught Palestinian children to hate Jews and was "killed by Israelis" after getting too much international attention was NOT A JOKE. Can you see the difference?

I think Miriam is right. We need a "Regional Get a Sense Of Humor Day" here.