I’m exhausted. Didn’t edit today. I did, however, apply to six jobs. Six jobs I will probably not hear back from because as I become more and more aware of, it’s all about who you know in Israel, not how qualified you are, because I am overqualified for everything I’ve submitted to and I’m tired of it. And that is exhausting. Add to this that I started out the day pretty damned exhausted…and will continue to be for the next few days…I’m a bit out of it and emotional. See, I get to go back home (!!!) to my new apartment tomorrow morning. BUT I have to be there at 6:20 am to pick up the keys from the lady evacuating the place who’s headed to the airport. Oh well. Figuring out how to actually move all of my possessions and two cats to a fourth floor walk up in the middle of July heat without a car is going to be fun. C’est la vie. Gotta figure out how to make lemonade, folks.
So…giving myself a break this week as my therapist suggested? Ya, great idea. But not so easy. I’m trying, though, I’m trying. I’m eating well (scrummy hummus and pita and veg), I’m thinking about a glass of Scotch (a treat and a tasty one at that), and watching some sci fi. Eureka is back on…a show I adore but I don’t actually think is very good…and I haven’t the tiniest inkling why the episodes started back up in July after months in the dark…
Friends on facebook were very kind to me in their response to my mini status-rant: “headache. sick of applying to jobs. want to sleep. and finally move into my apartment. which will only happen at 6:25 am tomorrow. pooh. perhaps a glass of scotch will make the situation seem more humorous.” And suggested I read this wonderful article about the health benefits of Bourbon and aspirin intake.
And I highly recommend watching this interesting video clip. Can’t understand most of it, but that’s completely OK.
And the real highlight of my day has been perusing McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, a literary website unlike any other, and of which I am extremely fond. Go on, give yourself a thrill – read some juicy tidbits and chuckle for a while. It’s such a tonic.
Signing off…giving myself as much of a break as I’m able.
Today I devote myself to my novel which takes place in Paris. I’ve had some breakthroughs this week, and I know how to tie together the structure, finally! I just need to do it.
So, folks, French or not, Francophile or not, remember this great day. Le quatorze juillet commemorates not only the uprising of the modern French nation, but is the symbol of the cusp of many trends in history, in politics and economics. Nothing was the same after the French Revolution. For all of us. And that is indeed something to celebrate.
Enjoy this amazing video fromCasablanca! I always want to cry when I hear the Marseillaise, but I wept openly in this Tel Aviv cafe when I watched this gem. I marvel that it was a film made in 1942, a war film meant to bolster the nation, when the world had no idea what the outcome of the war would be. No idea if France would be free again. If anyone would be safe again.
Video of Bach’s Sonata for Piano and Violin in B flat major. I saw an acquaintance perform this last night in Tel Aviv (not this video, but the music, you get the point):
The concert started late, had far too long an intermission (wasn’t sure it even needed one), and was only so-so. I mean, I’m very glad I went. It was charming, and I enjoyed the music. The performers were lovely and enthusiastic. It did get me thinking about the “ease of performance,” though. It was semi-professional (basically, adults who didn’t pursue professionally but probably studied until college, and then decided they still wanted to be active and perform here and there). Although it was a treat to hear live Bach and Mozart and Pergolesi and Handel and such, it wasn’t a real pleasure.
What’s a real pleasure?
I’m reminded of a graduate course I audited at the UofC many years ago vaguely about “poetry in the court of the Renaissance.” Something about the real skill and performance of an expert artist (or huntsman or poet or dancer, etc). Although the task this artist performs is obviously (or necessarily) quite difficult, it is the fact that he performs it with ease, with pleasure, almost with mirth, that makes a good performance. If it looks like the artist is having a difficult time, despite a positive outcome, it is painful for the audience to have to experience this.
Do not confuse this with demonstrative emotions. If an actor doesn’t cry (or scream or somehow react) at an appropriate moment in a tragedy, it doesn’t work, for instance. Or if a musician is so moved and swept up in the performance you can see it in her face and movements. What I’m talking about is this: when a magician slips up and a trick almost fails, or when a skilled musician makes a slight mistake and acknowledges it, even slightly. It takes us away from our reverie, from our suspension of disbelief. We are suddenly concerned for the artist. For his success, for his safety, for his honor and self-respect. It is then that a performance is lost.
The difference between amateur and professional is hardly a question of the monetary exchange for services rendered. It is one of our expectations being fulfilled, as an audience. Being taken away from where we are. Being able to enjoy, laugh, cry, clap, without any sort of self-checking, self-awareness.
It kind of explains why Susan Boyle, our Scottish starlet of 15-minute fame-dom, was so moving to us. We expected a “middle school” performance at best. Something we needed to tolerate, not expect to enjoy, and then perhaps pity when it went all sour. As we all expected. But no. Susan sang with ease. After she opened her mouth, we weren’t concerned about potential embarrassment for her. We were instantly swept away. It made the “sweeping away” even more moving, full, and grand because we were expecting to have to be embarrassed for and have to pity her.
It’s also why last night was a bit of a mixed bag. The music was good enough, sure. I was glad to be out. Glad to be supporting a friend. Happy at the variety of the concert, the quality of the concert hall, the grand piano, etc. But seeing the faces, the cracks, the effort. Well, it wasn’t a night out at the CSO or the RSC or the ROH. Did it need to be? No. Ach. But the effort, the effort.
That’s it, the effort. The effort ruins it as a major contender for enjoyment. It’s all about ease. It’s about jumping through flames and coming out unscathed ALL WHILE being able to do it without flinching, without running out of breath, without breaking a sweat, all with a shiny toothy-white smile, broad as daylight!
Ah, such thoughts. I miss Renaissance poetry classes and the philosophy behind experiencing such visceral things as pleasure. Art. Such delectable food for thought!
gump·tion (gmpshn)
n. Informal
1. Boldness of enterprise; initiative or aggressiveness.
2. Guts; spunk.
3. Common sense.
I have a job interview of sorts today. It came about casually. Met “the boss” at a BNI (business networking) meeting last week, and he kind of loved me, wrote notes to me during the meeting, told me he could probably help me out, that sort of thing. It’s an insurance company for travelers, both in Israel and abroad, mainly specializing in health care. And it’s a big company. A good one. I’ve bought from them before. Last week, in fact. Renters’ Insurance. So…why do I feel nervous? I tried to confirm the interview by emailing him politely. Never responded. Yes, it’s Israel. I saw him write the appointment in his diary when I was with him, so, like, I should just show up, right? And who knows if there is an actual job for me…it could be an informational thing…or a nicety. He made it seem like he doesn’t like some person who is working for him now is some position, and wouldn’t I like to take her place….whatever.
I’m going to shower. I’m going to dress well. I’m going to get there early. I’m going to eat something for breakfast.
And then it will happen.
And afterward, I go for Chinese medicine and acupuncture! Hoorah! I love those days. I only wish my income was more stable because every time I do something like this…acupuncture, see my therapist, it’s hard for me to really enjoy it because I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to afford it, or whether or not I’m already going into debt over it. These are currenly quite necessary expenses for me…so maybe I’ll just really go for that job today. Who knows? It could be the best thing to ever happen to me.
Until I get the book published, that is. Time to grow some balls, darlin’!
Enjoy this video that never ever fails to make me smile (it may not let me embed, but go to the link!)…Good day to you all!
Sarah Palin resigned as governor giving no reasons why.
Michael Jackson is dead.
The (maybe) revolution in Iran has fallen off the front pages.
And I can do nothing but twiddle my thumbs, not care a feather or a fig, and take a personality test that should show me the real direction I should be going toward in my dating exploits.
Uh huh. Yeah.
It’s July 4th, and I’m not at a parade eating a brat, watching grown men in fezzes driving tiny cars and covering my ears at the live cannons toted by the Civil War reenactors. Instead, I’m burning up in a bathing suit in a far too sunny Tel Aviv flat, alternating between reading a bad book, watching BBC tv, and drinking herbal tea. And I kinda really wish I were at the parade or the local fair or a friendly barbecue. Ah, the life of an expat. Always between worlds. It’s my yearly painful push pull struggle with patriotism coming to a head. But I won’t let it bother me too much. I think I can handle it. Who doesn’t love a nice cold bottle of white wine, the “Antiques Roadshow,” and Dan Brown’s petty prose? A decent way to spend the holy sabbath, right?
So…as a brief update on my last post, about being consistent, doing things every day…I’ve not been entirely successful. Of course. And I have no excuse, and I don’t know why. I must try harder. Period. What I have done is apply to tons of jobs. And network. And I may have a job very soon. Which is great. Really great. Not a dream job, but a job that pays more than minimum wage, a job in an office, with air conditioning, that will help me get back on my feet financially after going through my savings these last 8-9 months. I have also been sleeping much better, although I’ve not made my midnight nighty-night deadline. I have been calling friends. AND I have been making a decent effort to work earlier in the day…as in before noon, although I’ve tried for before 10 am. Not bad. Except for the major thing, the first thing on the list: working on my book.
Avoiding the book is not new. I could have had it done in much better shape a year ago or even more. I am so scared, so afraid of it failing…or you could say the flip…I’m so afraid of it succeeding wildly…that I prefer to default and not try at all. But that would be cowardly. I do occasionally triumph over my cowardice, hence, the phase when I did nothing but finish the book to the end…the stroke of brilliant courage that had me enlist and hire a critic/teacher. Now, I need to see it to a close. It’s just so much easier to use the current situation (financial panic/instability), that I’m blinded. Quite blind. I need to get over it. Do small things. Ease into it. Not be frightened to open the documents. Do some reading, some research. And then it should work like clockwork again. It’s not easy, but the task is virtually impossible if I don’t even begin.
Maybe it has to do with my personality type. So, I was randomly surfing HuffPo and came across this article, all about how everyone has a type. The article leads to an article and quiz on Chemistry.com. And I’m always up for a pseudo-scientific quiz. And I found out, according to the quiz, that I am a Negotiator (primary personality type) / Director (secondary personality type). And, it says that I’m attracted to the sort of opposite combination (Director/Negotiator). Weird thing is, I think I’m even, not primary/secondary. I might even be more of a director than a negotiator. Here are my results. Or maybe the results were right…I need to stop “negotiating” with myself and be more “direct” and force myself to drop everything and WORK ON THAT BOOK! Yes. In any case, the article and quiz were quite convincing, so I do recommend it to those singletons who are interested in honing their dating skills. There are apparently only four types: directors, explorers, negotiators, and builders…and if we can identify what we are, and what is the best match for us…we can more easily identify it…right? Let’s hope.
As for me…this is as close as I’ll get to my favorite Shriners this year…have a great Independence Day, all! Eat a brat for me!
38 days…this last stretch is really here. And I’m doing OK. Really I am. I’m getting really excited to turn 30. I’ve had a premonition since I was a kid that life would be good at 30. Sure, I thought I’d be a scientist or published great or something and people would finally “take me seriously” because of my age. Still. There are a ridiculous amount of good things ahead.
First – the news:
My cat survived the 4th floor fall. Without a scratch. Without batting an eyelash. I had to do some research and discovered cats turn into parachutes when they are falling, and they tend to survive 9 times out of 10. Gives some statistical credence to cats having nine lives, doesn’t it. Read more here.
My father turned the corner and is doing much better. I’ve not blogged for a couple days partially because of this. We’ve been worried sick. Trying to figure out if and how to get home to Chicago immediately. Two days of an “ice blanket” and finding an antibiotic that finally worked. And last night he ordered a generous dinner from the hospital menu. Thank God.
Gay Jewish weddings on the beach in Tel Aviv - a great article in Ha’aretz newspaper summarizing this pivotal event. Domestic policy, especially stuff like gay rights, abortion, racism, has never been huge on a daily basis in the Israeli radar. Why? Well, it’s obvious. When you live amidst terrorism, when you’re surrounded by enemies, and you have major water shortage issues, stuff like abortion and gay rights is small potatoes. It would be a luxury to be able to focus on them. For people on both sides of the arguments. I’m a die hard liberal. In the US, you would have no problem guessing who I vote for, who I contribute money to, etc. In Israel, it’s bizarre and lopsided. Because if you want to vote for the communists, seeing economical and social common ground, you’re actually voting for the same ticket as a lot of Palestinian hard-liners…and that might be against your foreign agenda. Anyway, anyway. Enough about that. The point I’m trying to make is this - we have a lot of really liberal gay rights achievements here in Israel. It’s just difficult to see them. And we’re moving in a good direction, I hope…
And for your surpreme entertainment – check out this wonderful short film written and directed by, and starring Matthew Modine (no embedding possible – but do watch it):
So…long hot nights…yup. It’s hot here. Really hot. And July and August are worse. Or better. Whatever your perspective. Like any extreme weather situation, it’s love-hate. Because it’s fun when it’s sunny. There’s the beach and ice cream and beautiful sleeveless dresses and flip flops and icy beers and cocktails to cool off with. On the downside, it’s thighs-sticking-to-your-seat weather, so humid your hair frizzes beyond recognition, you’re always sporting a sweat mustache, and don’t think about going out between 10 am and 3 pm if you don’t want to get heat stroke/burn your shoulders to a crisp/faint in the street kinda weather. And I’ve got to get moving on this book. And I’m becoming an insomniac. The nights are the shortest in the year. But they seem way too long to me. And I have to figure out how to be productive. At least I’ve got some wine-tasting gigs this week.
There you have it. Good stuff. And I’ll have more news tomorrow…because I interviewed for a job yesterday that may change my life…if I get it…
Before I get depressing here, enjoy this fantastic video:
It’s my last day in the USA. I’m really sad and trying not to acknowledge it. It’s not been long enough for me. Or too long, who knows. I will miss our old family house. I will miss Skokie. I will miss the convenience of malls, driving, Barnes and Nobles, Victoria’s Secrets, Pinkberry (which I discovered in LA), super dooper pharmacies that are bigger than grocery stores (I think I bought out the local CVS yesterday…stuff you can’t find abroad…), Starbucks and their non-chain counterparts, and much much more. I will have to have my last Starbucks today, my last look at Skokie, my last sit down in my comfy armchair with a book, a remote control, and a laptop. Back to life. Back to reality. And of course, I’ll miss the library most.
I spent yesterday going through 27 boxes (I’m not kidding) of my books and knick knacks in my parents’ crawl space. And I chose here and there what to take/ship back to Israel with me. It’s heartbreaking. Part of me wants to just decide on a home. Just pick a place, get an apartment that I can afford and that I like well enough, and just get all of my books in one place. One place. Bookshelves as far as the eye can see. Because I feel like I am what I’ve read. And I love to have these books around me. They feel like friends. Physical manifestation of memories. I know lots of people use their parents’ homes as storage for a few years (or decades) or maybe they just forget about that stuff. But I have sooooo many books. Over a thousand. Maybe if I can figure out how to surround myself with my books, I will finally be happy. Fat chance. I know. Sounds a lot more like a buffer, a mask, a wall guarding me from reality and the outside world. But books are so beautiful. So very beautiful. Because they open minds and worlds, and they’re life changing and exciting. Ah! I often wish there were no such thing as success, ambition, careers, jobs, groceries, responsibilities, and that I could just stay in bed or a comfortable chair and read all day and night long. Oh, to live in a library!
I am so tired, and it really doesn’t seem like I have much reason to be. I slept nearly ten hours last night. Well…except that I have been on six (looong) flights over the course of the last three weeks, have endeavored to see many friends (requiring long freeway drives and/or train rides), and have carried around copious amounts of luggage (I have yet to really master the art of packing, although I’ve gotten close…I just don’t really give a crap this time).
And I’m making all of these stupid justifications why? I don’t know. I just feel lazy if I’m not doing everything. I mean, that’s why I’m here! Vacation, see friends, see family. No big deal. My father invited me to go to the theatre last night…an amazing production of Twelfth Night. I turned him down. We went to the movies last night instead. Pixar’s new film, Up. And as I sat in the audience, I was asking myself why oh why was I there, and could I stay awake through an animated film, even though it was only 9:15 pm. And I have so many friends left to see, excellent, good, lovely old friends, as well as some new delightful ones. And I cannot, I just cannot get myself to get in the car and drive the hour and a bit and search for overly expensive parking every single day to see them. I can’t. I’m too tired. And I feel like a shit for it. I just don’t want to drive anywhere. And in America, cars are the name of the game. Where is my cafe down the street? The market around the corner?
Maybe it’s the new meds. A new friend told me she was on Cymbalta, too, and she couldn’t get over the side effect of fatigue, more than two years on. Maybe it wasn’t good for me to learn that. I don’t think I considered a medical reason for my tiredness before then.
The good fun stuff? Yes, despite the clouds, there is always a silver lining. I’ve watched all of John Le Carre’sTinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and I’m making headway into the last part of the trilogy, Smiley’s People. Thank God for Netflix. And for British television. And Alec Guinness. And the fact that I can do this at home on a sofa, swaddled in woolen blankets, sipping herbal tea and eating roasted almonds. Espionage is always best when watched from the safety of home with a hot beverage.
Patrick Steward as Karla and Alec Guinness as Smiley
And aside from being overwhelmed by American TV, the news, Judge Sotomayor, John and Kate plus eight (do I care? no), a minor Huffington Post addiction, and anxiety about whether or not I’ll be able to see all of my friends for five seconds before I yet again leave town in about five days…I’m doing OK. A potential solution: invite people over to me. Yes. A get together, a barbecue, a hoedown, a potluck, a chance to chew the cud quietly in that nice homey safe suburban atmosphere… Yes. Let them find me. I’m just too tired. And I’m not sure why.
So, when you’re on vacation, as I was for about three weeks, you lose touch. I barely kept up with any news. And so, here are some of today’s links. Stuff I found interesting. Stuff I can’t believe I missed. Etc.
The Star Trek movie opened! And I was somewhere in Italy drinking Limoncino and Sciacchetra in Cinque Terre and completely forgot about it! And it got great reviews, and it looks like it will be this summer’s blockbuster, and this means millions of new Trek fans, I hope, and I couldn’t be happier…and now I need to go see this movie!!! AND I discovered it opened here in Israel at the same time, so no worries for me!!!
A song called “I kissed a girl and I liked it” is now playing on the army radio station, and I’ve never heard of it before, but I like it…let’s google, shall we?
Ah, here ’tis:
And so much more exciting, devastating, embarrassing schtuff…involving beauty queens, politicians, Afghanistan, comedians, wild fires, and much, much more…check out the Huffington Post for the most entertaining way to become informed.
It’s 12:18 am, and I’m nearing being done with the packing and cleaning and bill paying…but not quite enough to feel comfortable. Why am I blogging, might you ask? Well, I’ve decided not to sleep, what with a cab coming in 2.5 hours, and I’ve got much on my mind.
First off, some articles really worth taking a look at. Important and interesting stuff that I’ve not noticed on the big radar:
Keith Olbermann: “President Obama, You Are Wrong” – A very powerful video, well written, moving rebuke on the president’s decision not to prosecute CIA interrogators for torture. Want a very compelling argument on learning from our mistakes lest we be doomed to repeat history? Watch this!
Modern life’s pressures are hastening human evolution – That’s right, we’re not done evolving. We’re actually speeding up. So much so, that in 10,000 years or less, the then-humans may not even be “Homo Sapien” any longer and could not interbreed with current-day humans. Read this article. Very cool. Very intriguing.
OK, now I really have to get back to doing things other than blogging, listening to Susan Boyle for the umpteenth time, and get on with the packing, bill paying, Italian train time table finding, airline ticket confirming business I really should be up to. I fly in less than 6 hours! But the thought of being away from a computer for three weeks…well, except for internet cafes, and the like, is kind of daunting…no, it’s also liberating. The 100-day marker is coming very soon for me. 100 days until my 30th birthday. The more I blog, the more I live, really, and spend time with good people, the more I understand how silly and pathetic this countdown is. Right now, it’s a great device. I would be lying if I said I was cool as a cucumber about this birthday, but I’m much better about it. I’m working on me, and that’s all that counts. I’m doing OK. More than OK, really, depending on the day and how I look at it, really. And enough with this pep talk! Tomorrow night, with any luck, I will be sleeping in some gorgeous little B&B on the Amalfi Coast. Aren’t I a lucky duck. So what if my savings will be blown to high hell, soon. How many people go to the places they want to go? Not enough, that’s for certain.
That’s not exactly true. I tend to be so gullible, Webster’s did start printing my picture about fifteen years ago next to the word. Right.
But I am so so so ridiculously thrilled at all the April Fools pranks going around the mass media circuit. I’m going to post some funny videos and links. Just because. It’s so nice to laugh, don’t you think? We don’t do it often enough, at least I don’t. And having taken a “Laughing Yoga” class in recent memory, I’m told it’s supposed to be really healthy. Even if you don’t mean it. Laughter, even the fake kind, is truly the best medicine.
Enjoy!
BBC’s the Swiss Spaghetti Harvest 1957:
Microsoft unveiled a new yodeling game, Alpine Legend, that lets you “jam with alpine legends like Franz “The Manz” Lang and Johann Hornbostel.” Add-ons include a tri-horne and a goat:
Two nights ago I went to a modest whiskey tasting at a very nice wine and liquor store in Tel Aviv. The selection wasn’t much to write home about. But it was super-friendly and turned out to be a great evening. And the guy leading the tasting, the brand manager at Akkerman (the largest importer of spirits, beer, and wine to Israel), was really sweet, told great stories, and I learned some new things. There were only about ten of us sitting around a table (including the shop owner -one of the most knowledgeable wine-and-spirit men I’ve met in Israel), all of us nibbling on a nice charcuterie and crudite spread throughout, and it was, just, really nice. Which for a melancholic like me, is something to be happy about. So, here’s a brief summary, and I’ll try to be as pictorial as possible…everyone likes pictures best, right? Well, in the absence of the whiskeys themselves, you bet.
Here we go! And for those of you with no patience, there are a couple of hilarious videos at the end! And let’s get on with the show!
Random facts: Whiskey is not a geographical term, as Scotch Whisky (from Scotland only) and Bourbon (from Kentucky only) actually are. Japan is apparently making incredible whiskeys these days, perhaps better than some of the Scotch. There’s a story that goes something like this – a Scotsman married a Japanese person way before the war and brought this tradition with him…and because of the direction of the alliances, this guy had to leave, but left a whiskey-making sensibility behind there. And I’ve never tasted a Japanese whiskey. And I really should. Gotta do some research about that. They have the correct climate conditions and some excellent water, so it makes sense.
When I see this, all I can think is, "For relaxing times, make it Suntory time."
Fun Facts continued!
Jack Daniels has overtaken Scotch – it’s the single largest lable being bought in the world today. Of course, more Scotch is being sold, but it’s the single biggest. In the Scotch world, there are four big takers making up the majority of the pie – J&B, Ballantines, Johnnie Walker, and Dewar’s. All blends. And there’s a big historical reason for that. Which I just learned about. Which I’ll get to later.
Master blenders (which every distillery has) only use their noses to create the blends. They smell the barrels. And I’m told they’re very “simple” and strange people, apprenticing for decades, learning what the true smell and taste of that particular whisky is meant to be, and then taking over for the recently deceased master blender.
Whiskey in a barrel evaporates at a rate of 2% per year. Think about how much whiskey has gone up into the “sky” from a 25 year old barrel! In Scotland they call this “the angels’ share.” Sweet.
There are two types of Scotches, malt and grain. Malt whisky is distilled in a single pot in a relatively simple process. Grain whisky is distilled in a column with a process called fractional distillation – it’s a more complicated, but far cheaper process – the result being far more tasteless scotch.
Pot Still, for single malt
Column or Coffey Still
So the big difference between single malt Scotch and Blended Scotch Whiskies? Single malt is just that. One kind of Scotch, made in a pot still, from one single distillery (it can come from different barrels, though – they too use master blenders, because every barrel is different, and they need to try to stay consistent somehow). My previous post has a short video on how they make single malt at Laphroaig. Blends are a mix of grain whisky (the cheap, tasteless, fractional distilled kind) and many different malt whiskies. Yup, that’s right. Cheap, tasteless whisky, flavored by up to 50 different single malts (that have very unique flavors of their own).
And why are blends so popular? Because they are much much much cheaper and easier to produce. It’s like taking a blank cheap canvas, and using tiny tiny dabs of expensive paint to give it flavor.
Until recently, I thought blends were a waste of time. Generally, the cheap ones kind of are. For me, anyway. I’d rather have the real thing. A specific strong unique flavor. But last month when I got to taste the whole Johnnie Walker line, I learned better. The top-of-the-line blends use really expensive and really old whiskies, some of which don’t even exist today. AND because the blends are doing so “well,” they are forwarding the whisky industry as a whole. It’s a great time for Scotch, as far as I know.
More facts? God, who is going to read this?!
OK-
Onto America. Scotch and Irish immigrants in the new world wanted to make their favorite brews. But, again, these are still colonial times with the big bad taxing English calling the shots. So, they push on into the frontier. Appalachia. Tennessee. Kentucky. The French. Get along great with them, side with them against the English, treat these guys a lot better, go ahead and make your whiskies, boys. For a really long and succinct history on the name “bourbon,” go to this website.
American whiskeys are pretty different than Scotch or Irish. Why? Corn. The main grain aux etats-uni, of course! American whiskey rules are: 1) 51% corn AND 2) use of new wood barrels ONLY. See, in Europe, they use old barrels. Great flavor from what was in there before. But in the US of A, new barrels. Sweet liquor from the corn, aggressive woodsy taste in the throat going down.
UNTIL
Jack Daniel’s. Crazy guy. Born 1850. Left home at 6 years old. Had his own distillery at 13 years old. Moved it to its current home in Lynchburg, Tennessee at age 16. Lynchburg’s got great water from underground springs. To this day almost all the 350 residents are employees. And it’s a DRY TOWN. Not kidding. During prohibition, the heir to JD’s ran for office in order to protect the business, and got a special arrangement — they could make the whisky…they just couldn’t drink it. To this day, you can’t drink it where you make it. There’s an “11 miles, one step, and a closed door,” rule.
But back to Jack. His whiskey was smooth. Why? Maple charcoal filtering. Took the bite out of the new wood taste from the barrel, AND added taste from the maple.
Sometime after his death at age 61, they created “Gentleman Jack,” an upscale version of the original. The difference? It’s charcoal filtered twice. Before and after. And they use “gentler” barrels. So smooth. It’s a nice drink. I’m not fond of American, but this one, I do drink on occasion.
Last but not least, Canadian. I’m embarrassed to admit that this was the first time I tasted Canadian. And I really liked it. To this day, they’re not as big in the whiskey world. But they’re there. Why? Prohibition. When America couldn’t make alcohol, they got tequila from Mexico and Scotch from Canada. I tasted Canadian Club, and it was unbelievably sweet. You know why? They make it from rye! That’s right. Rye is another drink, albeit related, but in Canada, it’s their grain of choice for whiskey. And believe me, it was gentle, sweet, and totally full of vanilla. I also learned that one of the whiskies I have drunk quite a bit of in the past, Chivas, was originally Canadian. Cool beans.
So what all did I taste at the tasting? Funny you should ask.
Scotch: Laphroaig (single malt, very peaty and smoky and very much what I like to drink. It’s from the islands and you taste the sea in every drop); Dewar’s White Label and Dewar’s 12 year old (blends, sweet, very different from each other. I was surprised by how pleasant the “cheaper” White Label was); Glengoyne (single malt, from the highlands, so traditionally would have less peat — however, this time, no peat. It’s the only distillery in Scotland that does not use any at all. A very bizarre flavor. Not what you’d expect. I encourage Scotch drinkers to try this one, if you haven’t).
American: Jack Daniel’s and Gentleman Jack. Already described above.
Canadian: Canadian Club. Ditto.
That’s it. Seven. But well worth the two-hour lecture. Thanks for reading my spiel here, if you’ve kept up. Now, go have a glass of whiskey!
Bill Murray doing Suntory:
Sean Connery (!!!) doing Suntory:
Oh boy, the full Connery:
And the best for last, I present you, Keanu Reeves:
Suntory time feels so bad, it’s good.
Suntory time, baby. Thank you Ms Coppola. Thank you Mr Murray.
Happy St Paddy’s Day! The most adorable expression I’ve seen today:
Thank you Jim Henson.
A few more videos to lift our spirits:
I went to a wonderful little whiskey tasting last night, and I’ve got a FULL report coming. But I thought I’d tempt your tongues and noses with that one. The Laphroaig was lovely, thank you.
And finally, thanks to my friend the genius computer engineer (who btw invited me to last night’s tasting), this really special short film. It’s a bit long (12 minutes), but well worth the watch:
Having been to what I am starting to believe more and more is my pill-pushing quack of a psychiatrist, as well as my cool barely-older-than-me psychologist in the same day, and having read a Judy Blume book cover to cover in between, here’s a fun video to brighten all our days:
I finished reading the book Sybil, a famous account of perhaps the most “prolific” multiple personality. The book was pretty engrossing. It was dry at times, but at the end, I’m glad I read it. Then, I googled it. Why oh why did I do it? Because I’m curious. Right? When you learn about something, you want to learn more. I was hoping to find some video footage of multiple personality disorder, maybe some other articles, etc. What I found? That many people believe that the book is an exaggeration at best, or a hoax at worst, and that the “Sybil” character never had a dissociative personality, but was a hysteric, and that a book deal couldn’t be procured on a hysteric. Further digging turned up an argument against the existence of the disorder as a disorder, and merely a sort of symptom of abuse. Anyway. I hate that I now feel a bit crushed. A bit manipulated. The book is supposed to be nonfiction. There were two films made. It could be true. But still.
And I just saw the film I “Heart” Huckabees. Rented it as one of my two weekend movies. Very bizarre. Right up my alley. But I’m not sure it was a succesful film. Pretty abstract. Very “indie.” It’s all kind of about existential dilemmas. A young guy who has encountered several coincidences hires “existential detectives” to follow him and get to the root of the answer. I think I’ll watch it again. Pretty damned funny. But more than a bit puzzling, too.
And now I’m late. Yes, late! I’m going to a bar opening. Yes, I’m theoretically going out. Yes, going out. And I’m still in a bathrobe. Yup. Goodness gracious me.
I’m amazed at how people come across blogs. Personally, if I find one I like, I browse through that blog’s blogroll. You just surf. The wonderful thing about having your own blog is the statistics you get to monitor. Sure, if I had the patience to figure it out, I could sign up for all sorts of free and paid analytics packages. But I don’t care that much, and the stats offered on WordPress suit me fine. It’s funny. Sometimes I get traffic for the silliest things. Months ago I mentioned the TV shows “Coupling” and “Absolutely Fabulous,” each with a photo, and I think once with a link for some episodes you can stream online. I now have days and days when I get dozens of people find me by searching for these TV shows. I mean, for pete’s sake, how high do I rank for a couple of mentions to send me so many damn views? Traffic is nice, don’t get me wrong. It’s just curious.
So, ya never know when an odd mention of Guns ‘N’ Roses or Doris Day or Ross Perot or Jacques Cousteau will score you some views and potential subscribers. Not that I care. But it’s weird. Any Internet statisticians out there know exactly why this is?
I just got back from the cinema where I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the new Woody Allen flick for which Penelope Cruz last night won an Oscar. Thoroughly enjoyable. Thoroughly. I don’t know what it is about Woody Allen. It’s just so real, and it’s so surreal. And so rude. And so much fun. Ridiculous. I don’t know. See it. It’s not the most amazing Woody Allen, but it certainly hit the spot tonight. I sometimes think that if I could meet one Hollywood director, just one, it would be him. Not Spielberg, not Scorsese, not any of the greats that are still around. Just Woody. Maybe because there’s just the smallest chance I may be as neurotic as he is. It gives me hope. Here’s a preview:
For your viewing pleasure (I spent the weekend basically viewing every video ever made by Improv Everywhere, and I think this one is my favorite), the BEST GAME OF BASEBALL EVER, and I mean ever. You don’t even have to like baseball to love this clip.
So, is it wrong to be holed up at home? I suppose not, unless it changes or affects your life negatively. Kind of like the definition of a phobia or neurosis. Whatever. I’m getting out. After seeing the two movies I rented (Desert Hearts and The Girl in the Cafe — I highly recommend both), I am getting showered (at 7:46 pm, good grief) and out of the house, finally. Well, it’s Saturday. And I’ve got some appointments this week, so not all is at a loss. I need to get out. And I’m going to see another film. This time, at the cinema. Good grief. At least I’m going with a friend.
I’ve been surfing blogs after a nice day out. The day out was a pleasant surprise. Saw a friend, visited the cats I’m sitting, and went to “Ha’Ozen Ha’shlishit,” or, The Third Ear, Tel Aviv’s premiere independent music and film center, where you can buy and rent just about anything. I rented two films I’ve wanted to see for a long while, a couple soul searchers. I’m still really confused, borderline depressed, sluggish, and weird. But, I’m getting on. Read a great book yesterday, The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett. Read it in one sitting and was much the merrier for it.
Right as I got the The Third Ear, there was a graffiti-ed sentence on a wall: “What we had to do to get by” and beneath it, “Know hope,” with a heart. I don’t know if it’s a campaign or what. But I wanted to cry. In a good way. Kind of.
And just now, from blog to blog to blog…as you do…discovered the YouTube site of “Improv Everywhere,” a fab company which stages grand acts of joy, randomly in public. You might remember that people frozen in Grand Central Station, the video that went viral last year. Here’s something I adore. Enjoy!
How does the world do it? The gods and the cherubs and saints and dead Israelite forefathers have conspired to make my Dublin trip bizarre and incredibly amazing. I have spent the entire day with a brand new friend S, a gorgeous ridiculously intelligent woman, a mutual friend of my friend who turned 30, for whom I came to Dublin in the first place. And we have been swilling world-class wines! All day! And to top it off, I have had my first glass of Cristal! Amazing. And Tokaji, and 10-year old and 20-year old Portos, and climax-inducing Muscatos, and Reislings to change your world, and more and more and more (including a local cheese spread, the best ham I’ve ever tasted, and a smoked fish selection — tuna, mackerel, wild salmon, and kippers — that I thought were the absolute best).
How did this happen? S’s parents own an off-license (Irish for liquor store) and pub in a nice Dublin suburb, and she’s in business with them. This wine tasting? A wine distributor she works with sometimes had this amazing array set up at the Four Seasons. And they welcomed me with open arms. And we met more and more people, one of whom was a weird-ish Maltese guy who’s been living in Dublin for 15 years, being a chef and restaurant manager, who latched on to us. We ended up closing the tasting with some Proseco, then moved on to the hotel’s bar, drinking a Rioja and a Reisling (spent 80 Euro, goodness), some horrifically overpriced bland fish pub food, and then moved on (well, we crashed…) the post wine tasting dinner event. See, S had never heard of these happening, but when we got there, we just snuck happily in and had a huge free meal — black pudding and rocket salad atop some stewed apples (I think), veal and mashed potatoes, lemon tarte and brownies, cheese platter (!!!), and coffee and tea. With, of course, a huge amount of great great great wine. Our bizarre (socially awkward) Maltese friend with us the entire time, and joined by my birthday girl friend after she got out of work, it was just one of those evenings that dragged on and on, but didn’t drag. It unraveled and unwrapped itself like a gift. The Maltese man ended up inviting me to Italy to plant grapes at a new vineyard that he was going to be investing in as soon as he’d raised 75,000 Euro, insisted I take his number, and did all but beg me to get together later in the week to, “have the finest glass of wine you’ll ever have in your life.” AND the gorgeous manager of this upscale wine bar cum gourmet Irish restaurant who I’d been eying and who may have been eying me at the wine tasting earlier in the day asked for me number! Yay!
I’m more than a bit frazzled, giddy, and delighted to have made new friends, spent time with old friends, and I’m currently being horribly anti-social by typing away at this blog while my two girlfriends are chatting around me at 12:30 am. Life is lovely.
And for your viewing pleasure, a film you MUST all see. My friend’s original show. That’s right. She wrote and directed this funny gem, and she’s touring to Abu Dhabi tomorrow.
This song is forbidden on French radio. A Georges Brassens oldie, here sung by France’s first lady, Carla Bruni. God, she is stunning.
For a really great translation and explanation about why this song is so risque, visit this cool site I just discovered, Brassens with English. If you scroll to the bottom, you get the real translation of what “je bande” actually means.
I’ve been scattered since the catering gig (sleeping for the better part of 2 days), and I’ve put off blogging. What has been soothing my mind in the last two days is a series of videos I’ll share with you now:
I have had a great respect for Stephen Hawking since I first heard of him when I was 12 years old. I read his book, A Brief History of Time, and it affected me profoundly. So much of what he says, especially in this video, makes complete and utter sense. I am still in disbelief that forty years since the moon landing, we haven’t progressed much farther in terms of humankind’s physical exploration of the solar system. I don’t understand why there hasn’t been an effort to built a lunar colony. It’s so damned close and we’ve been there quite a few times. Mars has been “stalled” in my opinion. We have the capability. Why don’t we go? It’s so important to expand, to explore! To perhaps even save ourselves. As I’ve said before, we only matter to ourselves. We are only doing ourselves a disservice by not moving forward. If we don’t survive, the universe will not weep for us. The universe will be just fine. And even if it isn’t, so what? We won’t be here.
Now some humor:
I love this episode! Dr. Hawking has such a fantastic sense of humor.
Another good old clip. Love Carl Sagan! Yay for curiosity! Yay for the Big Bang!
I discovered this while randomly browsing Youtube, and let me tell you, it’s curiously bizarre. It comes from a Claymation film made in 1986 called The Adventures of Mark Twain. The scene comes from an unfinished and posthumously published novella by Mark Twain called The Mysterious Stranger. It deals with religion, philosophy, and morality, with an angel by the name of Satan playing the main role, one who does not understand right and wrong. The film is fascinating, and this scene is the topper; it was banned in the USA, and it’s always been omitted. If you’d like to see the complete film, it has been uploaded in its entirety (in sections, however), on Youtube. You can find part one here, and navigate from there.
I accomplished next to nothing yesterday but had a nice time doing it. What I did do included picking up my sister’s belated Hanukah present from some main industrial post office depot and cooking lunch and hanging out with my other sister, after which we both trekked to find said post office depot, and then trekked some more to find a cafe that we could sit in that would allow us in with a sealed cardboard box (not an easy feat in Israel…we were looking for the small neighborhood variety that either couldn’t afford a security guard or just really didn’t think they needed one), so that we could open the box together over good chocolate and coffee, as was the instruction given by our sister who sent the box. We found a nice neighborhood cake shop with some very decent cake. The gifts were OK. I got a weird sweater, a weirder white blouse (that honestly looks like a cross between a chef’s jacket and a 60’s nurse’s uniform), a book I’d never heard of (in hardback), $15 to spend on iTunes, and a keychain supporting breast cancer. A chunk of metal made to look like a pink ribbon that cost my sister $2 at Macy’s, as it said on the backing, now hangs from my keys. Cool. It’s always nice to get presents. If you come at it from the perspective that you’ll probably not like anything, you probably will find something to like. And hey, it’s cold. I could use another sweater, as weird as this one is. So thanks little sister!
A couple nights ago, right after the water was turned on at the lovely man’s apartment, we were hanging out, tired as can be, and I honestly can’t remember how we got to the topic, but I remember saying something like…”you know, as closely related as we are to apes, I want to know why we’re different, I mean, when did we lose our hair? We’re naked! We’re not built for cold! I want to know how we lost our hair.” It must have had something to do with the fact that I was freezing, wrapped in a scarf, a blanket, and sitting in front of a space heater, desperately pretending it was an open fire and that I was some elegant lady who lunched, as I tried to gracefully read a book and held a glass of scotch I was sipping…all while trying to stop shivering. Well, I was reading a book and absent-mindedly swirling a glass of scotch. It made him laugh when he came into the room and saw me like that. Anyway, my love responded to my naked-humans-are-illogical statement with, “Have you heard of the aquatic ape theory?” I hadn’t. And after an entire evening of major procrastinating, now I know everything there is to know about our theoretical swimming ancestors. So, here we go:
(and I summarize from memory)
The Aquatic Ape Theory (or hypothesis), abbreviated as AAT or AAH, theorizes that before our early ancestors went to the savannas of Africa (where traditional anthropologists believe they went directly and developed most of our human traits, such as big brains, walking upright, etc), and after they left the jungles, there was an aquatic period where some groups were stranded on islands and in flooded areas, isolated from other apes for an extended period, and thus evolved separately. The physical characteristics of humans that support an aquatic or semi-aquatic phase include: walking upright (because in water, you have to to keep your head up, and the few primates that do have to go into water regularly do display this trait), bigger brains (seafood is much easier to catch than hunting big antelopes and things, and is more nutritious, especially with those Omega-3 fatty acids, what is believed over time to make brains grow big), fat (oh yes, we are really fat compared to all apes, and our fat is special because it is connected with our skin, like insulation, and very much like whale or dolphin or seal blubber — it’s insulation from the cold), fat babies (we are the only primates with fat babies who keep getting fat — which could be to make them buoyant and to be able to swim easier to follow mommy), no hair (in water, you don’t need it to keep you warm, you need fat to keep you warm. And the hair we have is said to be streamlined to how we swim), and a few dozen more things these devout theorists spill out, like breath control, the position of our larynx (which may be the key to us being able to speak at all), and more. It’s really convincing.
Except that the established scientific community thinks there is no evidence and is sometimes violently opposed to it. I think it’s a really cool and logical idea. I mean, how did we get really big brains so fast. The only other critters with brains as big and complex as ours are dolphins. And they go on and on about how stupid it is to walk on 2 legs when it makes you slower, clumsier, and gives you more health problems. On the savannah we must have been major food for sabre tooth tigers. In a major way.
So, in short, the champion of AAT/H for the past forty years is a little Welsh housewife by the name of Elaine Morgan, who has written some fascinating books that I’m now going to go out and find. Another website I found, one that claims to be attempting to be impartial and see both sides of this issue (but I think is actually one of the vehemently violent in sheep’s clothing), can be found here. What I do recommend is watching this very interesting BBC/Discovery Channel documentary, made in 1998, and uploaded in its entiretly on Youtube. Let me see if I can embed these videos for your ease.
I’ve been slightly productive today, writing two/three of the ten needed chapters for my Friday deadline. And the night is young, I suppose. If I can get another two/three done, I’ll be OK for tomorrow.
Tom Jones
On other fronts, I’ve been procrastinating productively, today, doing research on and attempting to design new business cards. For some reason, this used to be much easier…or maybe things are just easier in the States. Or my poor young self doesn’t have the image and design software my parents’ computers seem to naturally have, with all sorts of fun and easy-to-use templates. I found some very basic templates on my Word software on my iMac, but it’s very primive. However, my PC laptop’s Word had no templates on it whatsoever, so it didn’t help me at all. Ugh. Found some websites offering free or very cheap business cards with online design platforms, which kind of helps, when I can steal the image…I feel OK doing it, as they won’t send to Israel anyway, and even if they did it would take too long, and again, even if they did, their platform doesn’t support Hebrew, and I need bilingual cards made up. Sheesh. So, if anyone has recommendations for how to make elegant, simple cards very, very quickly, so I can just save it on Word, or make a really fast jpeg out if it, and take it all to a print shop — let me know, ASAP.
The new lovely man I am seeing is looking for bedframes, so if anyone in the Tel Aviv area is getting rid of one for free or cheap, please also let me know. He seems to have come to the conclusion that sleeping on a mattress on the floor for months on end isn’t a very grown up thing to do. This may be due to the fact that he now may have frequent nocturnal company. I don’t really mind, as the mattress is really comfortable, and I don’t feel strange about it at all. I did take a quick peek at the Ikea Israel site (yes, we have one, and everyone of the generic young-ish age in Israel now also has the same furniture as everyone else in the world of the same age group…ah, Ikea…achieving socially conscious world domination through maddeningly affordable beige Scandinavian design furniture, one young professional at a time), and the prices here are vastly different that back home or in Europe. Vastly. Some of the models are two to three times more expensive. Which sucks, as the prices, for Israel, still seem really good. Which goes to show that Tel Aviv really is expensive and may very well deserve the title of 12th most expensive city in the world…ahead of New York and LA. Bizarre. People actually sell their used Ikea furniture here…for close to new prices…not try to pawn it off any gullible sucker like back Stateside. Sheesh, indeed.
Ikea Bed...going for maybe $350
And Tom Jones, my happy go luck, hip-swinging companion for the evening. My lady cat, Cassiopeia (who has no need for anonymity), was so elegant and cute tonight, I randomly started calling her “Lady.” This turned into me singing her the famous Tom Jones number. Which then turned into me looking it up on Youtube. So, enjoy this clip of a very embarrassingly tight-bell-bottom clad, Afro sporting, gyrating Tom Jones. Not much changes. This one’s for darlin’ Cassie, sweetie that she is, cuddling into me right now, looking annoyed at the loud musack.
I feel very lucky to have been raised by Francophiles, my Israeli mother having been raised in France for a good half of her childhood, and my father having pressed to be transferred to France in the early 90s resulted in giving us the experience of living in Paris. I find it quite funny that Americans have this open dislike of all things French. That the Anglo world in general turns their noses at the French. There may be this perception that the French do likewise, and that they’re all big snobs. Not so. But they would have good reason to be. The best food in the world, very cultured, educated people, and one of the prettiest languages you’d ever have the pleasure of hearing.
Which is why I’m posting some of the best, most moving French-language songs. These videos had me mesmerized all last night. Enjoy.
Jacques Brel. Yes, a Belgian of Flemish blood, even. But this man is regarded as the finest French language singer-songwriter, possibly, ever. Read about him on Wikipedia. This song, Amsterdam, is one of his most famous songs, and I found an English subtitled one.
This is Georges Brassens, a personal favorite. I remember lying on the living room floor as a child listening to tapes of his music. He’s a folk-poet, and less well-known in the Anglo world, apparently because his lyrics are harder to translate. There’s something so comforting about his voice. This video of l’Auvergnat has English subtitles for your viewing pleasure.
The incomperable Edith Piaf. I like this recording because it’s very simple, a piano accompanying only. It’s a very late recording, from close to the end of her life, and there’s something charming about the poor quality and the small venue. Her biography is something out of a film…it is so bizarre it’s almost unbelievavle the life that she led. She actually grew up in a whore house, joined her father who was a street acrobat, started singing with a pimp as her “agent” giving him her money to prevent her having to go into prostitution, and much much more. Read about it here.
Yves Montand, perhaps not as famous as the rest, but I remember him quite clearly. This is probably because he passed away in November of 1991, while I was living in Paris as a child, and it was a VERY big deal, all these tributes all over the place. He was like one of the last greats, and his death really meant something at the time. I found it most interesting that he was discovered BY Edith Piaf, who made his career and became his mentor AND lover…clever how that tends to happen…Les Feuilles Morts seems to be one of his most famous songs, and I’ve found dozens of recordings. This is an oldie and a goodie, typical of a 1950s crooner. Enjoy! Oh, and he had a well-known affair with Marilyn Monroe close to the end of her life, too…bizarre.
I’m procrastinating in a major way, trying to type with a cat in my lap, not working, having just finished a late breakfast. I’m so bad and I will be paying dearly very soon. But for now, I’m not stressing. Why? Keeping up with current events and then amusing myself in order to recover from them has proven (disgustingly) a full and interesting morning.
So I learned that the Israeli Defense Force (IDF or Tzahal) has its own Youtube channel. Yup. Watch the war semi-live from an up close and personal view. I had no idea warfare was this precise. I suppose we should be thankful for the precision. This kind of video just shocked me, though. There’s something wrong, it feels to me, to be watching this stuff over breakfast in Tel Aviv, like it’s nothing. Perhaps I’m a bit sheltered. As a liberal American, I didn’t keep up with the gore of Iraq. Didn’t watch any of the viral videos of beheaddings, didn’t follow the embedded journalists like an addict. Now that I live here, it’s different. It’s so close. An hour away at most. People I know have been and will be called up for reserve duty to go fight. The first Israeli soldier has fallen. Why. Why. Why.
And yet, hundreds of Palestinians have already died. Yes, we outgun them. Yes, we have infinitely more power. But they won’t stop shooting. If I weren’t Israeli. If only I weren’t involved. I would totally be on the liberal Western side, condemning Israel, siding with the poor people being slaughtered. It seems so obvious. But it’s far from obvious and simple. It’s hard. It’s really hard. We shouldn’t be at war. It’s horrific, and I want nobody to die. It needs to stop. I wish we could “be the bigger man” and stop. But the underdog keeps at it. It reminds me of the “enlightened ruler” concept. The power to cause great harm and choosing not to. And we keep proving to be unenlightened.
It’s the hatred that gets me most. It would be so much, I hate saying it, but easier, if it weren’t all so malicious. It’s bizarre waking up each day, as an Israeli-American, as a Jew, and knowing that half of the world or more hates me. That despite all the legitimacy the Palestinian people have won, deep down their rhetoric is all about pushing us into the sea. That even if it doesn’t ever happen, they still want it to. And I have no hatred, or very little, in my heart. I really try to approach the world on a person to person basis. Because it’s the only thing that has ever mattered, changed history, one person learning, interacting with another. Learning that we’re the same. That we eat and sleep, care and dream, laugh and sing like the other. But where does this get me, with them incessantly throwing rockets, and we going in with a hundred times the force? I would love to be able to go as a tourist to Jordan, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon. Honestly. I am interested, and I have looked into it. But I would be in mortal danger in some places. Not all. But it would not be easy, and it would be a matter of hidingmy identity and pretending to be Canadian or something. The 6 hours I once spent in the Bahrain airport, my heart thumping, was a nightmare. Of course I was safe. But there everyone was, walking around in Arab dress, robes, Arabic, all of it. I hit my Israeli passport in a secret pocket I am always certain to travel with deep down in a bag. Lucky I have the American. Whatever. Maybe I should just do it. As an excersize. Write a book. Lone Jewish woman travels the Middle East — follow her adventures as she communes with Bedouin women, slips in camel dung, dodges sneaky questions at passport control, and finally slips behind a burka seeking anonymity and protection…good god, I need to get to work!
So, the video for the day! It’s fantabulous! I mean it. I have just played it about 5 times. Why? Because it’s so damned happy and catchy and it reminds me why I love being alive, and that there are good things to look forward to. The song is about Paris, of course, but more about meeting strangers, becoming friends and lovers, and doing fun things like singing and dancing with crazy kooks in basement flats. It’s about joy. And loving your fellow man. And woman. So enjoy this video! And feel free to play it over and over and over! There’s no shame in it.
I am the millionth blogger out there praising the man, but I don’t care. Barack Obama is a visionary leader and an exceptionally good person. It’s extraordinary to think we are living in a time of such substantial political, economic, ecological, and military crises. It’s saddening and worrying that it has come to this. But we have Obama to look forward to. Here are some videos that moved me to tears, if you haven’t seen them yet. Please go vote.
Welcome!
This is my countdown to my 30th birthday. Thanks for stopping by.
This life I’m on often feels like a great adventure, and it is my pleasure to share it with anyone who is interested.
I am a writer and chef. I am an American woman living in Tel Aviv, editing my ... Continue reading »
I feel very lucky to have been raised by Francophiles, my Israeli mother having been raised in France for a good half of her childhood, and my father having pressed to be transferred to France in the early 90s resulted in giving us the experience of living in Paris. I find it quite funny that Americans have this open dislike of all things French. That the Anglo world in general turns their noses at the French. There may be this perception that the French do likewise, and that they’re all big snobs. Not so. But they would have good reason to be. The best food in the world, very cultured, educated people, and one of the prettiest languages you’d ever have the pleasure of hearing.
