All cockroaches are not created equal
I had a very interesting taxi driver yesterday (he spoke fluent English). I mentioned that I was nervous to return home after my vacation because I was afraid the house would be overtaken by cockroaches. He said that the cockroaches in the area where I live (where all the rich people live) are different. He said they are nicer, more polite than those elsewhere. He said other cockroaches look at you and signal to you, "Come HERE."
The Israeli-Arab conflict
My driver, Erich, who emigrated to Israel from Russia with his family when he was one, also spoke at length about the Israeli-Arab conflict. This was triggered by a car on the highway that had a bed tied to its roof that looked like it could fly off at any moment. Erich said it was ridiculous people would take the risk of that flying off and killing someone rather than pay $50 to have it delivered. Then he said to "excuse my prejudice," but he said they must be Arabs.
He said that he doesn't have any problem with individual Arabs that he encounters in daily life. But he said, he does have a problem with all the rockets launched into Israel from Gaza, all the suicide bombers, etc. Erich said that Ariel Sharon gave them land, and tore down Israeli settlements, and still Israelis are always under attack. He said that Arabs will come into towns and say, 'That land was my grandfathers.' They are right, he said, the land was theirs. But, "It's in the past," he said.
Erich lamented how Israelis (except for Arab Israelis, ultra-Orthodox Jews, etc) must serve in the Army after high school for three years. He said that he didn't want to have to go out and kill people at that age. He said he should have been in school at 18, but instead he had to serve in the Army. Then, Israelis work while they are in college (this is true -- some of my friends were actually flight attendants while going to college, and I never met a college student who didn't have a job).
I asked Erich if he has hope. He said he does. He has to. He said he must have hope that things will be better for his kids when he has them. But, he said that it goes beyond the Israeli-Palestinian issue now, because the issue is with Islam. "People say the Koran tells them to kill people," he said.
I thought it was very interesting to hear what he had to say. I never bring up this topic with Israelis whom I don't know well, but they often bring it up. A repairman one day was fixing a poorly installed door in our home, and blamed the shoddy workmanship on Arabs. But, he added the Israeli (Jews) aren't any better. He also said that he became close friends with an Arab while he was working in the US, so he didn't have issues with individual Arabs.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Adventures in Sicily
I just returned from two weeks in Sicily with Sweetie. I'll be adding my travelogue over the coming days. Here's the first installment.
June 15
We arrived at Ben Gurion airport for our 0600 departure and whizzed through security (having learned the ropes on our UK trip), encountered a very pleasant El Al ticket agent, and had plenty of time to sit and people-watch in the airport's comfortable duty-free shopping area. I had to shelter our cappucino and orange juice from vigilant Ethiopian cleaning staff about ten times in one hour. They were very keen to keep the tables clean, whether you had actually finished your food and beverage or not. Don't blink!
After a transfer in Rome (where they have a habit of switching gates without actually noting this on the screens or anywhere else), we arrived in Palermo's small airport. I was confident our bags would arrive, but they weren't coming off the belt and I noticed another passenger make an inquiry and then race through another set of doors. It turns out, if you were arriving from an international destination, your bags show up somewhere else. Would have been nice to know this.
Anyway, Sweetie's bag rolled out, so we were expecting mine to follow. It did not. When I saw an Italian-speaking man ask if there were more bags and then race to the "missing bags" counter, I decided we better do the same. We were in line right behind him, and about 5 people were behind me. We filed our claim and then defeatedly headed out to get our rental car.
We briefly debated waiting 1 1/2 hours for the next flight from Rome since "Your bag should be on that flight," but I didn't think it was worth it (later we were very glad we didn't wait, because the bag didn't turn up for 5 days). We then attempted to drive off in our rental car, which was an automatic that worked like a manual. Go figure.
We drove to the town of Cefalu, 1 1/2 hours east of Palermo. We found the place I had booked
--- Villa Cerniglia -- but wished we hadn't. Sweetie refused to walk into the "hovel" they presented to us, which overlooked a parking lot and construction site, and so we paid for one night in an "upgraded" room (no A/C, no lock on the door out to a shared balcony) and ventured out to find alternate lodging. (Sweetie later said there were many places he only stayed in one night, but this was the first place he paid for that he didn't stay in at all).
We had passed signs for Club Med on our way into town, so that's where we headed. Oddly though, the signs pointed us down a narrow back road which then turned into a steep, extremely narrow cobblestone road which seemed to head down to the water. Near the bottom, we came across a courting couple sitting on the wall on the side of the road. They looked at us like, "Where did you come from?" Clearly, the road was not intended to be used by cars. When we said, "Club Med," they pointed us back up the hill. So, then Sweetie had to reverse up the steep single-lane cobblestone mini-road (in the automatic that worked like a manual). We got stopped by a crossing train, and Sweetie partially saw a sign with a picture of a bed on it, so then we proceeded down another single-lane mini-road (with a cobblestone wall). It led us to Calanica -- a collection of 26 bungalows set on a hill above the Mediterranean with sweeping ocean views, a pool, a restaurant, and a small beach area.
Our bungalow had a bedroom, kitchen area, and small bathroom, but adequate (and matching) furniture. It had a deck with amazing views of the sea. The clientele was mostly middle-aged Germans, and for the first few days of our stay, I was clearly the odd-one-out being under the age of 50, let alone under 40.
The staff was helpful in tracking down my bag, though they said I'd be lucky to see it in 3 days. UG.
June 15
We arrived at Ben Gurion airport for our 0600 departure and whizzed through security (having learned the ropes on our UK trip), encountered a very pleasant El Al ticket agent, and had plenty of time to sit and people-watch in the airport's comfortable duty-free shopping area. I had to shelter our cappucino and orange juice from vigilant Ethiopian cleaning staff about ten times in one hour. They were very keen to keep the tables clean, whether you had actually finished your food and beverage or not. Don't blink!
After a transfer in Rome (where they have a habit of switching gates without actually noting this on the screens or anywhere else), we arrived in Palermo's small airport. I was confident our bags would arrive, but they weren't coming off the belt and I noticed another passenger make an inquiry and then race through another set of doors. It turns out, if you were arriving from an international destination, your bags show up somewhere else. Would have been nice to know this.
Anyway, Sweetie's bag rolled out, so we were expecting mine to follow. It did not. When I saw an Italian-speaking man ask if there were more bags and then race to the "missing bags" counter, I decided we better do the same. We were in line right behind him, and about 5 people were behind me. We filed our claim and then defeatedly headed out to get our rental car.
We briefly debated waiting 1 1/2 hours for the next flight from Rome since "Your bag should be on that flight," but I didn't think it was worth it (later we were very glad we didn't wait, because the bag didn't turn up for 5 days). We then attempted to drive off in our rental car, which was an automatic that worked like a manual. Go figure.
We drove to the town of Cefalu, 1 1/2 hours east of Palermo. We found the place I had booked
--- Villa Cerniglia -- but wished we hadn't. Sweetie refused to walk into the "hovel" they presented to us, which overlooked a parking lot and construction site, and so we paid for one night in an "upgraded" room (no A/C, no lock on the door out to a shared balcony) and ventured out to find alternate lodging. (Sweetie later said there were many places he only stayed in one night, but this was the first place he paid for that he didn't stay in at all).We had passed signs for Club Med on our way into town, so that's where we headed. Oddly though, the signs pointed us down a narrow back road which then turned into a steep, extremely narrow cobblestone road which seemed to head down to the water. Near the bottom, we came across a courting couple sitting on the wall on the side of the road. They looked at us like, "Where did you come from?" Clearly, the road was not intended to be used by cars. When we said, "Club Med," they pointed us back up the hill. So, then Sweetie had to reverse up the steep single-lane cobblestone mini-road (in the automatic that worked like a manual). We got stopped by a crossing train, and Sweetie partially saw a sign with a picture of a bed on it, so then we proceeded down another single-lane mini-road (with a cobblestone wall). It led us to Calanica -- a collection of 26 bungalows set on a hill above the Mediterranean with sweeping ocean views, a pool, a restaurant, and a small beach area.
Our bungalow had a bedroom, kitchen area, and small bathroom, but adequate (and matching) furniture. It had a deck with amazing views of the sea. The clientele was mostly middle-aged Germans, and for the first few days of our stay, I was clearly the odd-one-out being under the age of 50, let alone under 40.
The staff was helpful in tracking down my bag, though they said I'd be lucky to see it in 3 days. UG.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Underwear Boy Part II
My good friend Krack (not her real name) should have been at the beach last night. Sweetie and I were enjoying an ice cream cone and watching the waves. There were a few children playing under the beach showers. And then they were joined by who I would call, "Underwear Gramps." It was a rather old gentleman, who seemed to have mistaken a very thin, flimsy, loose-fitting white pair of underwear for his swimsuit. His back was to us (thankfully), but even so, that was way more information than we needed. The little girl who had been playing under the shower suddenly stopped and was just staring. She will certainly never be the same again!
Underwear Gramps kept pulling his "swimsuit" off away from his backside and washing the inside, over and over.....
He must have been there a good 5 minutes, but it felt like 30.
Then, when he started walking past us away from the beach, I just really needed to close my eyes!
Krack and I saw a similiar spectacle in Thailand last year. Though mercifully, it was an Underwear BOY there and he was a rather fine specimen, so it wasn't quite as offensive.
Underwear Gramps kept pulling his "swimsuit" off away from his backside and washing the inside, over and over.....
He must have been there a good 5 minutes, but it felt like 30.
Then, when he started walking past us away from the beach, I just really needed to close my eyes!
Krack and I saw a similiar spectacle in Thailand last year. Though mercifully, it was an Underwear BOY there and he was a rather fine specimen, so it wasn't quite as offensive.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
What's a "partner"?
Recently, Sweetie introduced me as his "partner" to an American couple. The wife said, "So....you're business partners?" :-) Ummmm....not exactly. And I could not remember what Americans call people who live together but aren't married. Sinners? :-) "Partner" in the US tends to mean either 1) Business partners or 2) One member of a homosexual couple. Well, yesterday someone reminded me of the "significant other" term. One American lady told me she can't stand that because although she is significant, she's definitely not "other." :-) I think we'll stick with "partner" and explain when needed.
How not to build a house
I've been watching the progress of a house being built behind us. And, so much is clear to me now. I now see why our 1-year-old house is essentially falling apart. These builders seem to have virtually no building expertise whatsoever. I actually saw one guy trying to show another how to HAMMER something the other day.
In our house, we have lovely marble stairs, but there are huge numbers written into them on the landings (presumably marking the price or the weight or size of the raw material) that are not removable! Who would ever allow this to happen in a house in the States?
That's just one example.
How not to build a house
I've been watching the progress of a house being built behind us. And, so much is clear to me now. I now see why our 1-year-old house is essentially falling apart. These builders seem to have virtually no building expertise whatsoever. I actually saw one guy trying to show another how to HAMMER something the other day.
In our house, we have lovely marble stairs, but there are huge numbers written into them on the landings (presumably marking the price or the weight or size of the raw material) that are not removable! Who would ever allow this to happen in a house in the States?
That's just one example.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Kvetching, blogging
Kvetching
I've noticed that whenever a group of expatriates get together here, inevitably our conversation turns toward kvetching about life here in some form or another. This often happened living in Japan as well, I recall. So, then I started thinking, I wonder what expatriates living in the US kvetch about? I'm so curious! Any of you who live/have lived in the US, feel free to comment!
I'm trying to think about things I don't like about the US. I suppose it really depends upon where I was living. In the DC suburbs, it was traffic so bad that I actually would abandon going to the gym on my way home from work because it was clear the aerobics class I hoped to attend would be over before I even got there. Or, spending $70 at Whole Foods on about 8 items. And, the fact that with a graduate degree I still wasn't making enough to 1) Buy and insure my own car, or 2) Rent an apartment that actually had all the essentials, like a kitchen!
In Ohio, I tended to complain about the lack of culture. Not enough happening. And the winters. Brrr....Actually, I ended up complaining about the DC winters, too, because when I finally could afford to buy my own brand new car, a few weeks later a blizzard hit and I dented the bumper on a snow bank as I did a 100-point turn to get out of the driveway which was entombed in snow.
Blogging
The blogging thing is very new to me. I decided to do it because my present email account won't allow me to send group emails. So, basically, this blog is aimed at my friends and family. I figured if a few other people read it, that would be fine, too.
Well, today I decided to make my blog "not public," which means it will still be available on the Web, but won't be listed on the Blogger website. I did this because someone felt the need to leave a ranting comment about one of my posts and clearly the person did not bother to notice from what country I am blogging. Intelligent, informed comments are most appreciated, but this one did not fall into that category. I am not sure yet if I am going to delete it or not, but at least I have now also taken the action of enabling the "moderate comments" function:-) It's all a learning experience for me!
Creature from the blue tile pool
Yesterday I decided to take advantage of lovely weather and quiet construction conditions to dip in the pool. It was lovely. I had "Buena Vista Social Club" playing from the patio speakers. I imagined myself in Cuba (in the days when that was still allowed). It was glorious and relaxing. I was floating in heavenly pool bliss.
But then, as I drifted toward one edge of the pool on my "floatie" (what do Americans call those? I've forgotten despite the fact that we always had them as children. It's like an air mattress for the pool), I noticed an ominous black figure resting above one of the filters. Some would call it a "water bug." Others might call it a "beatle." But, you would just be fooling yourself with such terminology. The proper term is "cockroach big enough to swallow a car."
Part II
I've decided that when Sweetie retires and it is my turn to "bring home the bacon," I will be completely fine with that as long as my career does not involve bug control. I just had to dispose of something (a beatle, I am sure) writhing on the basement floor. And now I am going to try some natural remedies on the ant colony that thinks our kitchen is its summer home.
I've noticed that whenever a group of expatriates get together here, inevitably our conversation turns toward kvetching about life here in some form or another. This often happened living in Japan as well, I recall. So, then I started thinking, I wonder what expatriates living in the US kvetch about? I'm so curious! Any of you who live/have lived in the US, feel free to comment!
I'm trying to think about things I don't like about the US. I suppose it really depends upon where I was living. In the DC suburbs, it was traffic so bad that I actually would abandon going to the gym on my way home from work because it was clear the aerobics class I hoped to attend would be over before I even got there. Or, spending $70 at Whole Foods on about 8 items. And, the fact that with a graduate degree I still wasn't making enough to 1) Buy and insure my own car, or 2) Rent an apartment that actually had all the essentials, like a kitchen!
In Ohio, I tended to complain about the lack of culture. Not enough happening. And the winters. Brrr....Actually, I ended up complaining about the DC winters, too, because when I finally could afford to buy my own brand new car, a few weeks later a blizzard hit and I dented the bumper on a snow bank as I did a 100-point turn to get out of the driveway which was entombed in snow.
Blogging
The blogging thing is very new to me. I decided to do it because my present email account won't allow me to send group emails. So, basically, this blog is aimed at my friends and family. I figured if a few other people read it, that would be fine, too.
Well, today I decided to make my blog "not public," which means it will still be available on the Web, but won't be listed on the Blogger website. I did this because someone felt the need to leave a ranting comment about one of my posts and clearly the person did not bother to notice from what country I am blogging. Intelligent, informed comments are most appreciated, but this one did not fall into that category. I am not sure yet if I am going to delete it or not, but at least I have now also taken the action of enabling the "moderate comments" function:-) It's all a learning experience for me!
Creature from the blue tile pool
Yesterday I decided to take advantage of lovely weather and quiet construction conditions to dip in the pool. It was lovely. I had "Buena Vista Social Club" playing from the patio speakers. I imagined myself in Cuba (in the days when that was still allowed). It was glorious and relaxing. I was floating in heavenly pool bliss.
But then, as I drifted toward one edge of the pool on my "floatie" (what do Americans call those? I've forgotten despite the fact that we always had them as children. It's like an air mattress for the pool), I noticed an ominous black figure resting above one of the filters. Some would call it a "water bug." Others might call it a "beatle." But, you would just be fooling yourself with such terminology. The proper term is "cockroach big enough to swallow a car."
Part II
I've decided that when Sweetie retires and it is my turn to "bring home the bacon," I will be completely fine with that as long as my career does not involve bug control. I just had to dispose of something (a beatle, I am sure) writhing on the basement floor. And now I am going to try some natural remedies on the ant colony that thinks our kitchen is its summer home.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Catacombs
Bet She'arim
Today was Sunday -- which these days means one thing -- that we must get the heck away from our house because of the construction behind/next to/virtually on top of us. Since Israelis work on Sundays, we basically now pre-plan to get away on Sundays. Today meant heading toward a national park (after putting in our required gym-time first thing in the morning).
Bet She'arim flourished as a Jewish town after AD 70 (during a time when Jews were denied access to Jerusalem). After a revered Jewish rabbi (Rabbi Yehuda "Hanassi") was buried there around 200AD, the town became the most sought-after burial spot for Jews.
So... the site consists of lots of burial chambers and catacombs and sarcophagi. A bit creepy. But, one of the catacombs was quite extensive -- with over 200 sacrophagi and lots of different chambers emanating off the main tunnel in the rocky hillside. It was amazing!
We were glad we made the effort to do some siteseeing again, because after all, that is really what makes living here worthwhile. We can walk straight into history every time we visit a park.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
A nice day
Today was a nice day. The streets were quiet -- all day -- and not just until 10AM as is usually the case on Saturdays. The sun was out -- but it wasn't too hot. There was a nice gentle breeze (not the strong winds that sometimes make it difficult to enjoy the patio) that made the palm trees sway. The pool water was a nice temperature. It was a beautiful day.
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