Everyday life in Israel
I’ve lived in Tel Aviv for twenty months and I’m still discovering parts of it. I’ll probably continue to do so for a long time.
Independence Park is my latest find. It’s not so far from my home and has existed for decades, so I really should have known about it. It has wonderful views of the sea below. I expect I’ll be returning to it soon.
How fictional is the world inhabited by Nathalie, Asaf and friends (and foes)?
On Day 2 of the blog tour for Loyalty and the Learner, I’m pondering this question. Here’s why:
Before I go any further, you can find links to all the tour posts so far in this post.
Yesterday, GB Williams posted this when writing about my book:
…I also know little of life in Israel, other than what we see on the news, which I have tried to forget as the real world is a different one to the world this story inhabits. That’s what fiction is for, taking us away from the real world.
I actually wrote this novel more than a year ago, its publication having been delayed for several reasons. But even before the seventh of October 2023, and going back long before independence in 1948, Israel has been plagued by conflict and wars, by enemies who will agree to nothing less than its complete destruction. It has always known terrorist attacks of various sorts.
By the way, despite all that, I believe Israeli cities are among the safest in the world, especially for women.
Not one of my novels set in Israel – Neither Here Nor There (not currently available), Style and the Solitary and Loyalty and the Learner – mention wars or attacks, other than Asaf saying of Israel’s problems in Loyalty and the Learner, “One of those is the security situation.”
Why?
There are plenty of novels set in Israel that highlight the security situation and explain it much better than I ever could. I wanted to portray ordinary life here, to show the beautiful and the not so beautiful but without the wars. Does that make the world of my novels fictional?
I don’t think so. The reality is that Israelis live in two parallel worlds simultaneously. We work in offices or building sites or fields. We go shopping in markets and supermarkets and smaller shops. We exercise in the gym or by walking, runnning, cycling, dancing. We love to spend time with our families.
The other world is more frightening. We hear about it on the news and hope it won’t come any closer to us, but of course it does, even if it’s only when we run for shelter. No, it’s never only that, because we all know people who’ve been affected much more, who’ve lost family members and had their worlds changed forever in a single moment.
In normal times, but not during the past year, it’s possible to spend whole days, maybe even a week or two, without thinking about wars or attacks. Unless, of course, you’re in the army, or have a child in the army, or find yourself under attack…
Really, it’s often possible to forget you’re in the Middle East for a while. And so, I suggest the world of my novels is not as fictional as you might think.
Loyalty and the Learner is published through Ocelot Press and can be purchased via Amazon and other online stores.
Here’s a shout-out for Lisa’s wonderful and informative blog, in which she describes nature trails and historic ruins, gorgeous birds and flowers. If you want to see a beautiful side of Israel, one that you won’t see on the news, this is the place to go. We’ve all been through hell, but Lisa’s hell began long before 7th October. It’s lovely to see her back.
Over the past two months, I’ve watched many more videos, seen more pictures, and read more comments than is good for me. Some of them I saved to refer back to and maybe share later. Like this one:
He was released in a prisoner exchange: 1027 prisoners for one Israeli soldier.
I think that shows so much about Israel. For instance:
What it shows about Hamas is obvious.
And that’s why there is no comparison and can never be one between Israel and Hamas.
We have heard, but generally not watched (because it’s too harrowing) what they did on 7th October. We’re only starting to hear how they mistreated the people they kidnapped. And that’s from those they chose to release. Who knows what they’re doing to the ones still being held?
Israelis don’t always see eye to eye. But when disaster strikes, that’s when we’re the most united. While the world continues to chant meaningless slogans and repeat lies, we’ll get on with the war we didn’t choose and don’t want. Why? I think Golda Meir, prime minister of Israel from 1969 to 1974, explained it well:
Take care, wherever you are in this dangerous world.
I am definitely not the right person to explain about Mimouna. Wikipedia has a much better explanation than I could give, starting with:
Mimouna … is a traditional Maghrebi Jewish celebration dinner, that currently takes place in Morocco, Israel, France, Canada, and other places around the world where Jews of Maghrebi heritage live. It is held the day after Passover, marking the return to eating hametz (leavened bread, etc.), which is forbidden throughout the week of Passover.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimouna
Unfortunately, the celebration in Jerusalem’s Sacher Park was rather a washout, this year, as thunderstorms lasted for most of the day. However, we were invited to the dry quarters of our next-door neighbours, who served muflettas and all sorts of sweet things, and also dressed up for the occasion.
Years ago, some visitors to this blog asked me to write more about living in Israel. This worried me. I thought there would be aspects of living here that would be hard to explain. But I decided there must be a few “normal” parts that I could expand on.
So, under the category of Israel, I created a sub-category called Everyday life. I posted a few things I thought would be universally understood. Then, one day, I wanted to post about an unusual occurrence. So I created another sub-category called Extraordinary events. We’ve had many of those, over the years, although I usually don’t mention them here.
Fast forward to the present. I tend to post more on Facebook than on the blog. What have I posted about recently?
Finally, as I scroll down, I get to something more serious: my one and only share about the current wave of protests in Israel. The current government is trying to bring in a law that would give less power to the Supreme Court and more to the politicians. In one of the photos in the post, author Etgar Keret holds a sign that reads: “Once I wrote books; today I write signs.”
It’s sad to realise how split this country is – not that we didn’t know before, but now the situation seems worse than ever.
However, one thing that’s guaranteed to bring the Jews together is when terror strikes, as it has done several times recently. When two sisters, aged sixteen and twenty, are murdered and their mother is fighting for her life in hospital, it feels as if this is our family. Yes, we still go out for trips in nature, or to dance, or do whatever else we enjoy, but part of us is grieving for those girls and for the other victims.
Sometimes, we’re split as a country. Other times, we’re split inside. That’s what living in Israel is like, and always has been. Hopefully, it won’t always be like this.
Update: Sadly, the mother of the two girls succumbed to her wounds.
Yesterday was publication day for Style and the Solitary, edition 2 with Ocelot Press.
My job was to announce the occasion on social media and respond to well-wishers, as well as sharing various guest posts that bloggers had kindly posted for me.
I did just that – in the morning. And then, after lunch, I went to Tel-Aviv. Why on earth…?
The publication date had been fixed for 27th October when our musician daughter asked if we’d like to go to a birthday performance by singer Ronit Shachar, held in a garden in Tel-Aviv. We couldn’t turn that down – we knew it would be good. Besides, I reckoned that after spending the day with my novel, it would be all right to go out in the evening.
Daughter got the tickets for the four of us. Then there was a suggestion that as we were all going to be in Tel-Aviv, we could meet earlier and do other things. We ended up meeting in Yarkon Park, where we went for a longish walk, then walking by the sea around sunset and eating some delicious vegan food in a restaurant called J17.
The concert, which also included other performers like Corinne Allal, was excellent and even worth the cramped seating on damp fake grass. And the proceeds went to an animal sanctuary.
After the performance, we had to collect a rather large electric piano which was hard to fit in our van. It was after 2 a.m. when we returned home.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to do the driving, and I spent the journeys trying to catch up with all the kind posts and comments about my book launch.
On the subject of blog posts, here’s what I’ve written about various aspects of Style and the Solitary:
| Blogger | Topic | Date |
| Vanessa Couchman | Steeped in France | 25/10/22 |
| Kateri Stanley | Interview | 27/10/22 |
| Nancy Jardine | Inspiration | 27/10/22 |
| Sue Barnard | Why I turned to crime | 28/10/22 |
| Jen Wilson | Settings | TBA |
| Cathie Dunn | Secrets | TBA |
Normal life will return shortly. Maybe.
Today, 23rd March, is a day for going out and for celebrating coming out.
I, together with the rest of the citizens of this country (hopefully) will be going out to vote. It’s only a year since we last voted and we all hope the next government will last for longer. Unfortunately, it’s unlikely that the election results will give a better advantage to any party.
Today is also an anniversary. Twelve years ago, I began this blog, tentatively, anonymously, scared to own up to having social anxiety, even though I knew it was obvious. Optimistcally, I called the blog and myself “An’ de walls came tumblin’ down.” They haven’t tumbled, but they have some large chinks.
Nevertheless, a lot has happened in that time. It could all be summed up in the words “I came out.” It’s made a big difference to me that I can write about having social anxiety and give presentations about it, even though it’s still hard to talk about.
Where were you, twelve years ago? Have you changed over the years?
I read an article recently. I don’t have the link any more, but it was headed something like: I’m Jewish. Please wish me Merry Christmas. The article went on to explain that although in the author’s family Christmas wasn’t celebrated, the day was meaningful to him as a day off – a day when they, as a family, did joyful things together that were out or the ordinary.
I get it. I remember, all through my childhood, spending Christmas Day in the home of my aunt, uncle and cousins, eating different foods, doing different things. So when I changed schools at the age of eleven and was introduced to Christmas carols, drawing Christmas trees and exchanging Christmas cards, I joined in. In any case, my aim at school was always to fit in, even though I never succeeded.
The trend continued to university and work. Christmas was always a special time, so it seemed natural to exchange Christmas greetings with everyone.
Then I moved to Israel and, for the first time, Christmas didn’t exist, apart from a few cards I still sent to and received from friends abroad. Christmas Day was spent at work. That’s been the case for most of my time here. Recently, with social media and the ability to listen to BBC Radio 4, the prominence of Christmas has again increased, but it’s still not part of my life. That’s the difference between me and the author of that linkless article. He lives in the US while I live in Israel. Like him, I’m not offended when someone wishes me Merry Christmas, but for me it’s meaningless.
“Yes, but even if you don’t celebrate it, you do something special on that day,” people say.
“Actually, no.”
However, this year, I will be celebrating Chanuka at the same time as Christmas, lighting candles and eating doughnuts at home and at folk dancing.
But Chanuka isn’t time off, except for schoolchildren and teachers. And us, last year:
Whatever you do, enjoy the next few days, the whole of 2020 and every other year. May whatever you wish for come to fruition.
Today, instead of Letters from Elsewhere, here’s a post about me, to catch up with some of the things I’ve done since… whenever.
The other day, I wrote two new verses to an old song. They’re inspired by a strange phenomenon: rain.
Look what they’ve done to my June, Ma.
Look what they’ve done to my June.
Well it’s the only thing they could do half right,
And it’s turning out all wrong, Ma.
Look what they’ve done to my June.
Look what they’ve done to my sun, Ma.
Look what they’ve done to my sun.
Well, they took some clouds and made them black
And covered up the sun, Ma.
Look what they’ve done to my sun.
Yes, it’s been raining heavily in various parts of the country, but not so heavily in Jerusalem. There has been flooding. One of the most afflicted towns was Sderot. You’d think they’ve had enough to contend with without the weather joining in.
It never rains in June in Israel. Don’t they know that?
If you don’t know the original song, I’m sure you can find it on Youtube. “Look what they’ve done to my song.”
I’ve appeared on a few other blogs:
|
Topic |
My Post |
|
| C.J. Sutton |
Fear |
A Fear of People |
| Carrie-Ann Schless |
Diary Entry |
Noname’s Diary |
|
Espresso Tales |
Coffee with Miriam Drori |
|
| Val Penny |
My Writing Story |
If you’d told me I was going to be a writer |
.
I’ve hosted two authors on the social anxiety blog: Jo Fenton and Val Penny.
I hosted characters on this blog in Letters from Elsewhere:
|
From |
By |
|
| Tina | ||
| DI Hunter Wilson |
Hunter’s Chase, Hunter’s Revenge |
|
| Anne | ||
| Harriet |
.
And I was delighted to receive this from a grateful customer.
Yes, I was the editor for this lovely novel: Chasing the Case by Joan Livingston.
And I have lots of new and exciting ideas for my writing. If I stop sleeping, I might be able to put them into practice. Who needs sleep, anyway?
Happy reading! See you next Friday for another Letter from Elsewhere!
I’m in the middle of writing and editing and preparing and more, but yesterday we had an opportunity to attend a public rehearsal of Don Giovanni and we took it.
After the performance, we had a bite to eat at the nearby Sarona Market, where we saw this seat. It plays love songs. Well, there’s probably a loudspeaker hidden behind it, but you can sit on the bench and listen to love songs. Isn’t that sweet.
After that, we enjoyed an evening walk by the sea in un-sea-sonably warm weather.
But the strangest things happened during the performance. Really, they both happened. I’m not making this up.
Maybe because it was a rehearsal, a few members of the audience thought it was all right to talk to each other or to use their smart phones – silently. Some people up in the gallery were talking quite loudly. Eventually, the disturbance was dealt with somehow and the talking stopped. Just then the translated text of the opera, displayed above and next to the stage said:
We’ve finally got rid of that fool.
Later, the man directly in front of me was using his phone, holding it so that its light shone in my eyes. I put my hand up in front of me to block the light and again looked at the text of the opera. It said:
He dazzled me for a moment.
I kid you not.
It’s good to get out sometimes and experience life outside the computer.
Right, back to editing.
Miriam Drori, Author