Kol Ha'olam Kulo
Cheerio to all yall lovely people out there that look at these postings. I haven't written in a while for several reasons. One, I have been relatively busy. Purim happened last weekend and Jeff Seidel, the crazy Jewish ideologue threw a massive open-bar party Saturday night at Mike's Place, the legendary Anglo-bar in the Russian compound, and everybody got a little crazy. Ok, ALOT crazy. But alas, that's what happens on Purim. I'd like to thank Uncle Steve for providing me with his Japanese kimono, thus marking me the best dressed bloke of the night. Shavua tov.
Two, nothing that very interesting has happened. Sure, I go out every night, sure I bump into people I haven't seen in years (most recently LIPS...camp folks should remember this kid, he's a tall Indian kid from Jeremy Sable's Edah...a very random run-in indeed),and sure I went to Tel-Aviv last Wednesday night to watch the captivating Israel vs. France football match, but besides just little things.
Before I get into these little things I must first debrief the soccer match. OSA, or occassionally sufficient activities, as it is often referred to, provided transportation for any international student to Tel-Aviv for the night. Of course, as soon as we get to tel-aviv the bus driver misses a turn and we get side-tracked half an hour. He blamed it on our tour leader, Inbal, claiming that she gave him faulty directions. Chaos ensued, culminating in the bus driver pulling over to the side of the road, refusing to move until Inbal apologized. Inbal, in a state of panick, grudgingly apologized, although I did notice her fingers crossed behind her back. The bus finally arrives at the statium, or to be more specific, a 20-minute walk through the tel-aviv swamp to the statium. Hungry after such an exhausting drive, I become delighted to see hotdog vendors outside of the statium. Ten schekels is a bit expensive, but when you're hungry it doesn't make too much of a difference.
The differences between Israel sport culture and American sport culture are striking. For one, in Israel, no alcohol is allowed on stadium premises. Second, the slick, multi-billion dollar stadiums of corporate America are nowhere to be found in Israel. To exit in Israel, all one need to do was hop over the wall and roll down the hill. For the more civilised, you'd go to the port-o-potties to pee, but for everyone else you'd just find a wall or a bush. Concessions consisted of sunflower seeds and bottled coke that the concession tenders would pour for you in a cup.
What was most remarkable was how much the game reminded me of a pro-Israel rally. Everyone had giant Israeli flags, wore white and blue t-shirts (they actually gave out free shirts but because of our late bus there were none left by the time we got there), and loudly sang Israel fight songs, the best of which "Kol ha'olam kulo, sone ltzarfatit," a witty alteration of the traditional shabbat zimra loosely translated to "All of the world hates the French." Ok, I guess that's not really a pro-Israel song, but it's close enough and I enjoyed it. Incase everyone missed it, Israel tied France, 1-1, keeping haaretz right in the middle of the race to make the world cup. Woo-hoo!
The Friday after that I went rock-climbing and repelling with my buddy Yitzchak in the g'hinom valley by the cinemateque. It took up the entire day and was incredibly fun, especially during the hanging and struggling to try and climb this one remarkably verticle mountain that took me an hour. The best part was after struggling down a 13 year old kid strapped in and went up after me, scaling the entire thing in under 4 minutes. Punk.
Other than those two things I really haven't been up to anything. No, that's not true, I've actually been up to quite alot but the purim party, soccer game and the rappelling were some of the more exciting highlights. I mean I could fill you in with all of the minute details of every waking moment, such as keeping an eating log (today I had chinese chicken at Frank's for lunch, grilled cheese for dinner, and a falafel with lavaneh for a late-night snack) but then I'd be keeping you for too long, and my fellow readers are too busy to read about that kind of junk. Oh, I also saw Natan Sharansky speak tonight at Rothberg, but that was hardly exciting.
Well tomorrow I have work at the minstry and then I have to do some Jewish learning with a black-hatter named Shneir, but after that I hope to finally see Shotei hanevua, the legendary mizrachi group that came out with the Ramah Poconos classic "Ein Ani." Shalom yall.
Two, nothing that very interesting has happened. Sure, I go out every night, sure I bump into people I haven't seen in years (most recently LIPS...camp folks should remember this kid, he's a tall Indian kid from Jeremy Sable's Edah...a very random run-in indeed),and sure I went to Tel-Aviv last Wednesday night to watch the captivating Israel vs. France football match, but besides just little things.
Before I get into these little things I must first debrief the soccer match. OSA, or occassionally sufficient activities, as it is often referred to, provided transportation for any international student to Tel-Aviv for the night. Of course, as soon as we get to tel-aviv the bus driver misses a turn and we get side-tracked half an hour. He blamed it on our tour leader, Inbal, claiming that she gave him faulty directions. Chaos ensued, culminating in the bus driver pulling over to the side of the road, refusing to move until Inbal apologized. Inbal, in a state of panick, grudgingly apologized, although I did notice her fingers crossed behind her back. The bus finally arrives at the statium, or to be more specific, a 20-minute walk through the tel-aviv swamp to the statium. Hungry after such an exhausting drive, I become delighted to see hotdog vendors outside of the statium. Ten schekels is a bit expensive, but when you're hungry it doesn't make too much of a difference.
The differences between Israel sport culture and American sport culture are striking. For one, in Israel, no alcohol is allowed on stadium premises. Second, the slick, multi-billion dollar stadiums of corporate America are nowhere to be found in Israel. To exit in Israel, all one need to do was hop over the wall and roll down the hill. For the more civilised, you'd go to the port-o-potties to pee, but for everyone else you'd just find a wall or a bush. Concessions consisted of sunflower seeds and bottled coke that the concession tenders would pour for you in a cup.
What was most remarkable was how much the game reminded me of a pro-Israel rally. Everyone had giant Israeli flags, wore white and blue t-shirts (they actually gave out free shirts but because of our late bus there were none left by the time we got there), and loudly sang Israel fight songs, the best of which "Kol ha'olam kulo, sone ltzarfatit," a witty alteration of the traditional shabbat zimra loosely translated to "All of the world hates the French." Ok, I guess that's not really a pro-Israel song, but it's close enough and I enjoyed it. Incase everyone missed it, Israel tied France, 1-1, keeping haaretz right in the middle of the race to make the world cup. Woo-hoo!
The Friday after that I went rock-climbing and repelling with my buddy Yitzchak in the g'hinom valley by the cinemateque. It took up the entire day and was incredibly fun, especially during the hanging and struggling to try and climb this one remarkably verticle mountain that took me an hour. The best part was after struggling down a 13 year old kid strapped in and went up after me, scaling the entire thing in under 4 minutes. Punk.
Other than those two things I really haven't been up to anything. No, that's not true, I've actually been up to quite alot but the purim party, soccer game and the rappelling were some of the more exciting highlights. I mean I could fill you in with all of the minute details of every waking moment, such as keeping an eating log (today I had chinese chicken at Frank's for lunch, grilled cheese for dinner, and a falafel with lavaneh for a late-night snack) but then I'd be keeping you for too long, and my fellow readers are too busy to read about that kind of junk. Oh, I also saw Natan Sharansky speak tonight at Rothberg, but that was hardly exciting.
Well tomorrow I have work at the minstry and then I have to do some Jewish learning with a black-hatter named Shneir, but after that I hope to finally see Shotei hanevua, the legendary mizrachi group that came out with the Ramah Poconos classic "Ein Ani." Shalom yall.
posted by xdredd at 2:01 PM
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