Lights in the Distance

Observations and musings regarding new mommyhood and life in general.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Sirens and Barbecues...

I cannot think of a moment during which I feel more proud to be an Israeli than when the sirens sound on Memorial Day for Israel's Fallen Soldiers. Year after year, siren after siren, I am awed by the thought of millions of Israelis standing together in silence as we collectively reflect on the sacrifices made by the young men and women who gave their lives trying to protect our country. No matter where we are, no matter what we are doing, we stop to remember. Workers stop working, pedestrians stop walking, drivers stop driving. Words simply cannot describe the rush of feelings at taking part in something so powerful.

Growing up in the United States, I cannot remember anything special about Memorial Day. For those whose lives had not been touched by the loss of a loved one, it was even a day to look forward to. A lazy three-day weekend, the unofficial start to Summer activities, outrageous sales in the shops. In short, nothing that expressed the true significance of the day. It was just another day off. In Israel, it is a day to reflect, a day to remember, and there is no escape. Places of entertainment are closed, all local channels dedicate their programming to the personal stories of the fallen, and you cannot help but to sit there, allowing yourself to be drawn in to the collapsed worlds of those left behind. Even the local children's channel shows age-appropriate programming, to show the children how other children have coped with the loss of a loved one. The radio stations also take part, putting aside all regular features, playing quiet, often haunting songs of loss. Public transport services are extended to ferry people to memorial ceremonies throughout the country, ensuring that the needs of the bereaved are met. You cannot help but feel that on this day, you are part of something special, no longer a country of individuals, but a nation made up of one family, mourning the losses of our brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, fathers and mothers together.

As the sun sets on Memorial Day, Israel once again proves itself to be a country of extremes. The flag is raised to its full height from half-mast and the somber mood of the past 24 hours becomes one of exhilaration, as Israel rushes headlong into Independence Day celebrations. We watch the traditional torchlighting ceremony broadcast from Jerusalem as fireworks fill the skies. Israel's towns and cities try to outdo each other with local festivities, and the streets are filled with the laughter of people playing and dancing, through all hours of the night. I've never been one for the crowds, and we happily sat outside, chatting with neighbors, barbecuing and racing around to different spots on our porch, looking for the best vantage points from which to catch the fireworks (while occasionally coming into the house to check on the poor dog, who is definitely not a fan of fireworks, and spends most of the evening hiding in either the bathtub or the shower, shaking like a leaf).

Independence Day itself is just one big, collective barbecue, as Israelis leave their homes at the crack of dawn in search of the perfect spot for cooking up enough meat to feed a small, third-world country for about a year. We drive up to my sister-in-law in Haifa, and once we enter the city, I look on in wonder at the people and the grills that take up every available blade of grass, whether it be in parks, along the side of the road, or even on some of the wider traffic islands. We drove with the windows open, and by the time we reached our destination, I felt like I'd already eaten, so strong were the smells of all the barbecues we passed along the way. No need to worry, though, I was certainly able to hold my own when the food came out, despite the fact that it was my second barbecue in less than 24 hours. The wonders of the pregnant woman's appetite...

Today, life has returned to normal, aside from the plate-full of leftover barbecued kebab in the fridge (I polished off the remaining vegetable skewers last night), which I suspect we will finish before the end of the week. Another Memorial Day and Independence day have come and gone and my patriotism and cynicism levels have returned to their pre-holiday levels, as I read about the 500 tons of garbage left behind after the entire country spent the day outside yesterday. It doesn't escape my notice that bringing up the topic of garbage would be an excellent segue to the subject of the trials and tribulations of our government, and especially the escapades and scandals of Ariel Sharon and his family, but frankly, I'm just too tired, and cannot summon up the energy that such a topic so richly deserves. Besides, my husband is in the kitchen doing something interesting with leftover barbecued kebab and a bunch of tomatoes...
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Sunday, April 25, 2004

Who wants to go for a ride in the car?

Well, my blogger mentor over at Anglosaxy suggested this morning that I throw in some personal vignettes, and when I mentioned to him what we'd done over the weekend, he gave an enthusiastic endorsement that it should be the subject of my next entry.

So, here it goes...

I escaped from pregnancy house arrest yesterday, and we took a drive up to the Druze town of Daliat Il-Carmel with some friends. The streets were packed with Israeli Jews, taking advantage of the good weather to spend the day combining two of the activities that Israelis seem to enjoy the most - being outside on sunny days and shopping. Daliat Il-Carmel is known for its shopping, and given that we've spent the last three to four weeks fixing up our home, picking out some new knick-knacks seemed in order.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Druze, check out the following Website: http://www.geocities.com/Baja/Outback/9277/d1.htm. It provides a basic explanation of the Druze community in Israel. While their bloodline is Arab, the Druze religion differs from Islam. And, unlike other ethnic groups, they tend to not have national aspirations and are usually loyal to the country in which they live (the one exception I can think of being the Druze living on the Golan Heights, who are loyal to Syria). Many members of the Druze community volunteer to serve in the Israel Defense Forces, and a number have lost their lives in doing so. Clearly, many Israeli Jews do not see the Druze as Arabs, and the current Intifada does not seem to have had an impact on these sojourns into the Druze towns that dot the Galilee. The same cannot be said of the Israeli Arab and West Bank cities and towns that were bustling centers of commerce prior to the Intifada, when Israeli Jews would flock to these areas for bargains unheard of in the Israeli shops. With any luck, those times will return.

Anyway, back to Daliat Il-Carmel. Following an amazing meal at a restaurant on the main shopping street (if I could remember the name, I'd be sharing it here - the food was outstanding and the service was wonderful), we began to wander in and out of the shops lining the street. I was hoping to find some inexpensive, comfortable clothing that would help to get me and my ever-expanding stomach through the remainder of the pregnancy, and together, we were hoping to come up with some unusual pieces of artwork to hang on our freshly-painted walls. While the inexpensive maternity shirts remain decidedly elusive, I'm happy to say that luck was definitely on our side when it came to artwork. I won't bore you with the mundane details (though I will mention that the main reason why we didn't get a print for our bedroom wall was because I couldn't seem to make the saleswoman understand that I just wasn't interested in pictures with either a long-haired woman in some kind of backless nightgown and a "come hither" look, or pictures of a man and a woman together, having "slipped into something more comfortable" and flashing that same come hither look at each other...), but we managed to leave the shop with three large framed prints after my husband successfully bargained (as is the custom) 80 shekels off the total asking price.

Tired and poorer, we made our way back to the car and headed for home with our new treasures, which, I must say, look fabulous on our wall. I always enjoy such outings, especially these days, seeing as I rarely leave the house. Sadly, it's gotten to the point where, if my husband were to suddenly call out, "who wants to go for a ride in the car," I'm not sure who would show more excitement, me or the dog...
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