My Z-Day

Today was my Zionist History day. Walked this morning to two museums that, to my mind, are the most important symbols of the creation of the state of Israel. The first was the Hagannah museum. The word means “The Defense” and it was one of the Jewish paramilitary organization in what was then the British Mandate of Palestine from 1920 to 1948 (the Arab riots in 1920 and 1921 strengthened the view that it was impossible to depend upon the British authorities and that Jews needed to create an independent defense force completely free of foreign authority).  As the predecessor to the IDF, all the values of the IDF stem from it.

When I got there, I startled the guard (he was on his cell phone, chatting away) and he demanded to see my passport, which of course I didn't have with me. I told him I had a copy of it on my iPad... he wasn’t interested in that but was satisfied when I showed him my 1980 Photo ID Canadian Citizenship Card (which I had forgotten to leave at home-home, in Canada). This was marvelous at it proved to me that "I haven't changed one bit" since then.

The second place was Independence Hall just down the road, the site where David Ben Gurion (Israel's first Prime Minister who had an almost messianic personality and charisma)  courageously signed  Israeli Declaration of Independence  at 4 pm on May 14, 1948, eight hours before the British mandate over the region was due to end.  “Friendly" countries had advised him not to, knowing that war would break out right after. His answer was that it was better to have had a Jewish State for just one day than to not have had one at all.

The Hall is a very simple and spartan place, and they have kept it exactly the way it was. It actually takes the visitor a moment to realize that this isn't just a room in the building where they store old furniture. It is "the" room where, after 2000 years of exile, Jews had their own country from where no one could kick them out.

Ben Gurion, Independence Hall, 1948

Independence Hall today

Raquel looking a tad too seriuous...

That was my morning. 

After retouching my eye make-up, I headed towards The "Tachana" to meet Bella, a cousin. Between 1892 to 1948, the Tachana (or railway station ) was the main junction for commerce but became abandoned. It has been yuppified at a huge cost of and now has great restaurants and fancy shops. In other words, my sort of place.

The first and last time I had met Bella was 1979, but thanks to my sister's efforts and Facebook, we had reconnected a while ago. Still, there was a lot of catching up to do. My first reaction was to say to her "You look like you could be my relative!" -- a rather dumb remark considering she in fact is one. 

 

Bella is a software developer who works at a major American technology company. If you check your cell phone's wireless firmware, chances are Bella developed the technology (Thank you Bella!).  Bella is very thoughtful and has a great sense of humour: it was fun to hear what Developers *really* think of people in Marketing...

 

 

We had lunch at a very pleasant place called Regina’s where I enjoyed the "sweetish chopped liver" appetizer (I wasn't sure whether it was "Swedish" or "sweet") followed by fish baked in paper with gnocchi. Since it was Bella's birthday today, we shared chocolate cake for dessert. (I was glad I had walked all the way there.)

 

From lunch at the Tachana, which is close to Yafo, I had to zip back to the cafe next to my apartment as I was meeting my schoolmate Lea for coffee.  So I took a cab, and my notion that Israelis like to share was reconfirmed.

 

(For example, in the 20 minute cab ride today from the "Tachanah" I  learned all there is to know about the cabbie: about his divorce (it was all her fault); about the fact that his mother had been right all those 30 years ago (she was beautiful but no brains, and beauty fades); about his two kids' lives (especially about the one he is worried about); about the rent he used to pay on Ben Yehuda Street (that is why he had to move away). To be fair, the cabbie managed to tell me all this because we got caught in a traffic jam and we weren't moving for a while. However, at one point the cabbie realized the jam was caused by a construction site that had illegally (according to him) cordoned off an intersection. The chutzpah they have! As soon as he decided they didn't have a right to do what they had done, he got off the cab, moved the barrier out of the way, got back in the cab and we narrowly squeezed by the workers digging up the street. He and I both cheered his chutzpah!)

 

Lea and I went to the same school in Chile for 12 years and have been in touch on and off since. The funny thing when you meet with someone who knew you way back when is that you immediately connect and it is as if no time had passed at all. We chatted for about an hour and made plans to meet again when she comes back from a quick trip to Chile next week.

Lea and Raquel (not the Biblical ones)

  Then it was Purim. Purim fits the pattern of most Jewish holidays (They tried to kill us; we endured; let's eat), except that for Purim Jewish kids dress up in costumes - and in Israel adults do too (although I have seen a few women I wasn’t sure whether they were in costume or that was how they usually dress…). The costumes, unlike Halloween, are happy ones (maybe because the rest of the time is scary?) I went to the same synagogue I went on Friday to hear the Megilla ("Scroll of Esther”) being read. On this holiday, the big meal is tomorrow.

After that, I went for dinner at a tiny, little diner place. It could fit the Seinfeld "Soup Nazi" model but I didn't think I should mention this to the nice man behind the counter who was so helpful at explaining to me in English what serves.  

The place serves only Kibbeh -20 varieties of it. Kibbeh is a traditional Iraqi dish, based on the choice of a soup and these delicious meat balls, served with rice on the side. The Kibbeh things look like matzah balls but are really a combo of an external shell of semolina filled with Middle-eastern spiced meat. 

Kibbeh

 The man behind the counter let me try his 5 favourite varieties of soup so I could choose the one I liked best (after eating the samples I wasn't sure I really needed dinner, but I managed). I went with the cabbage and chickpea soup. 

Since I was writing on my iPad and eating slowly, the man behind the counter was worried my Kibbeh was getting cold. Eventually he just took my plate away and refilled with hot soup, just to make sure I was  happy. When I was done, he asked me if I liked it. I say Yes, and told him I was staying nearby so I would definitely be coming back a lot. 

He high-fived his partner.