A few interestig facts about Israeli elections...

March 17th. Potentially a crucial day in Israeli history and everyone seems suspiciously calm. I compare it to the 2007 when Obama ran against McCain and Palin, trying to break the long Republican rule and a victory seemed so unrealistic up until the last few months. When some of my friends went door-to-door in New Hampshire trying to convert the state residents one by one. The Hope and Promise won back then, and I now brace for such a miracle here in Israel. Unfortunately most of the people around me are not very optimistic. Many are so disillusioned with the constant changes of governments, wars and high cost of living that they don't believe anything will change no matter who comes to power.

A few interesting facts about our elections:

1. There is a party that is running under the leadership (OK, spiritual leadership) of a dead person. Rabby Ovadia Yossef.
2. There is a party advertising itself with only one statement: "Death sentence to the terrorists"
3. Three letters that each party marks their voting cards with are usually not the letter of the party name. For example Netanyahu's Likud party has מחל, the Zionist Union has אמת  Why make it simple?
   
4. Zionist Union is ahead of Likud in the latest polls and this gives us a lot of hope. However their victory still doesn't guarantee that they will be able to build a coalition and form the government. 
5. Meretz - the truly democratic party in Israel is struggling to get enough votes to pass the threshold of even being considered for Knesset.  Many of their usual voters are strategically ditching the party for Zionist Union to give it a slight lead over Likud.
6. In a smart move three different Arab parties are running together with projected 13 seats in the Knesset (out of total 120). After the Zionist Union and Likud this is now the third largest party. Will they be invited to the coalition?
7. We are hopeful because there are some young, brave and smart people in the party lists, like Stav Shaffir from the Zionist Union. Here is the link to her brilliant viral speech (with English subtitles) against the accusation that her party is not Zionist enough. Click on the image:
   
8. V15 (Victory15) is a new household name in Israel. It is a grassroots outreach organization created by young Israelis and funded by the US billionaire Daniel Abraham and some other money. It does not affiliate itself with any party but it does call for a change of the current government. "Simply Change" booths and posters like this one could be spotted all around Israel:
   
9. 200 current and ex-IDF commanders create an organization and run ads in this weekend's papers saying: "Netanyahu destroyed the US-Israel relationships. Netanyahu failed to uproot Hamas. Netanyahu didn't stop the Neuclear Iran. Real security is more than just words."
10. Amos Oz, one of the most prominent Israeli writers and a proffesor of literature writes in this Satrday's Haaretz newspaper: We’ll begin with the most important thing, with a matter of life-and-death for the State of Israel: If there will not be two states here, and fast, there will be one state here. If there will be one state here, it will be an Arab state, from the sea to the Jordan River. If there will be an Arab state here, I don’t envy my children and my grandchildren.

Dear friends, please stay with us as we go through these crucial days. What party will get the majority of the votes, whether this party will be able to negotiate a coalition, how long the coalition will last, will the new government be better? For now we are living our Spring of Hope and Promise.

Anti-Netanyahu Rally, Tel Aviv, Rabin Square, Saturday March 7th

And the best image (borrowed from Haaretz) from the news hot air balloon above the square:

Life with sirens. Day 3 of the Operation Protective Edge.

Dear friends. There was so much to tell you about our life here in Israel during the last month through the kidnapping, hopeful search, shocking bodies discovery, funerals, appalling group killing of a Palestinian boy, and the rocket exchange that started since then.  But I couldn't find the way and time to tell it right, because as you know everything here in the Middle East is deeply rooted in religion, history, politics and very complicated. You are likely reading it via various news sources. What I thought I will do with the short time I have is to just tell you about our days.

Take Thursday, July 10th, Day 3 of the Operation Protective Edge (Israeli name) and Operation Ramadan the 10th (Palestinian name).

I had an endocrinologist appointment at 8am in the Ichilov Hospital in Tel Aviv, appointment to which I took our daughter with me. As soon as we approach the elevator in the Hospital Building the rocket siren goes off and after a short heart pinch we follow the crowd to the stairs and then ground floor surgery waiting rooms. There is a TV and a few tired people that had likely spent a night there. One of the women carefully rolls her own cigarettes and I point my daughter to this strange old craft just to take the edge of the stress off. I notice that everywhere around the hospital there are freshly made paper signs telling what is the nearest "safe place". We call home and learn that the sirens went off at home as well and my husband had to run to the Mamad (the shelter) with our toddler. After the required 10 minutes of waiting we are back to the elevator where we meet my doctor who is also accompanied by her 11-year old daughter, uncomfortable leaving her at home alone on such days. The girls play, we go through the Dr. appointment and an hour later we are on the way back home.

As we drive through Tel Aviv everything seems perfectly normal, other then the occasional interruption of the radio program with the siren announcements in the various areas of the country. I receive an instant message from my husband that he decided not to send our toddler to her day care that doesn't have a bomb shelter and he asked my parents to come and stay with her during the day. My parents babysit my brother's kids this week in a nearby town and they were on their way to the day care at 8am when the sirens went off this morning. They all heard and saw the explosion in the skies and had to calm down the kids before bringing them to their summer camp that was relocated to a local school with a shelter.

I drop my daughter at home and head to my work in Rosh ha Ayin.  Few people brought kids of various ages with them to work hesitant to leave them home alone. I see an email from our CEO saying that the management understands the circumstances and personal needs we may have nowadays. It encourages us to put the family first.  One of our new employees is from the Ashkelon, the closest large city to the Gaza strip, which comes under rocket attack hourly now. Her husband got Tzav 8 (reservist order to get to the army) and she is staying at home with their two young girls for a few days now. In the afternoon my cell phone flashes the message of another rocket attack on Tel Aviv and surrounding areas. I am worrying about my parents and kids at home rushing to the shelter in our circular stairs. Nadia had prepared all the first aid items in this room instructed by the soldiers that came to her school a few months ago.

Leaving work early as my parents have to go help my brother. People tell me that route 5 is closed as a car with an explosive material has been stopped along it. Apparently police asked people to avoid this area for at least two hours. I am panicking a bit but quickly relived to see that Waze predicts 20 min driving time home.

Later in the afternoon, all kids are home. Our son just returned from a 5-day-long swim camp in the North and is catching up on sleep. We expect a visitor from the past: Julie whose children were together in the Gan Yeladim preschool and then SSDS with our kids. Julie now lives in Seattle but is visiting Israel. Our youngest is anxious to leave home and I dare to take her and drive to pick Julie up from her friends hotel in Tel Aviv praying that there will be no rockets while we are on the road. As Julie enters our car I see that her friend looks familiar - a fellow Newton family that also had a kid on the JCC Swim team.

We spend great time catching up with Julie on the kids stories, our professional steps, new lives in the new places, mutual friends. She calls her husband who is reporting that both her parents and her kids (in the camp) are very alarmed about the situation in Israel and worry for her well-being.  She tries to calm everyone describing her great time at the beach today unspoiled by a bizarre rocket siren and remote view of the explosion in the air.

We got our online food order delivered from a large local chain and I shush my kids to stop talking politics noticing the Arab-looking delivery man that sends a worried looks at our TV screen.

Later on another Newton couple stops by: Riki and Motti, our good old friends whom we met at MyGym on Needham street when our kids were 3 years old. We hear the news of extensive rockets in the South and causalities in Ashdod. Our son's friend posts an image of a burning car that he sees in front of his Ashdod house. Riki, who remembers my hesitation to return to Israel and is surprised that I am still here, asks me whether I feel my heart sink every time I hear the alert news. The war still seems to be far away to be really scary but I do question myself daily whether the Mediterranean pleasures and family proximity seem to outweigh the bear of this never-ending conflict.

No more rocket sirens in our area till next morning. Still I have a hard time sleeping with everything that is going on. At 3am the news message flashes on my cell that there is a suspected infiltration in Eilat and all the beaches are closed. This later turns to be a false alarm.  I calm myself planning what to bring for tomorrow to our toddler's Day care as she is a Shabbat Helper and slowly dose into sleep.

Israeli Realities

I started working in a high-tech company (Optitex) located in Rosh Ha Ayin.
First shock - my native tongue, Russian, is spoken freely, loudly and openly all around the office. I have used to a mix of Indians, Pakistani, Brazilians, Chinese and some "native" Americans in the US high-tech but never before I have had the privilege of a big Russian company.  There are also a few Canadians,  US immigrants, Argentinians, and as a result of such non-sabra mix we could not even do one couplet of the traditional Hebrew "Ma oszy yeshiati.." song at the Hanukkah party.

Second shock - on a hill near our busy high-tech park is an Arab village and twice every day we hear Muslim singing-style prayers translated via speakers to the whole area. Our new employee from Ashdod always jumps as she mistakes this sound for the air attack siren that they are so accustomed to in her area.  Once a week we go to this village to eat hummus and falafel with a freshly baked pita:

At home there is another reality. We are finishing our renovations.  I created a list of all the remaining projects to accomplish in Russian for our Russian-speaking project manager and my father who is left to supervise the work at home. My sabra husband attached a short Hebrew translation for him to keep a track of the things. The Arab worker that our contractor sent us to actually perform the work appended the Arabic translation of the items. This is the resulting multilingual work list:

A Hug from the Land of Expected Terror to the Land of Unexpected

Our dear Boston friends. What a shock it was to learn about the Boston Marathon Bombing on the eve of Israel's Independence Day.  We were in Tel Aviv's celebration center - Rabin square - amid loud fireworks, large open air concert, foam-covered children and cars, and thousands of families with kids, teens, youth, elders celebrating outside late into the night. So proud we were to show this wild, ecstatic Israel to our Bostonian friends who arrived the day before for their son's Bar Mitzvah.  At first it seems as a mistake. A bomb? Not in Israel? Not related to the Independence Day Celebration? At our Boston, the college and sports town? During the Marathon? Why?

Just the day before was a Memorial Day - one of the saddest day of the year in Israel. The day when we (notice that "we" just slipped out of my hands naturally) mourn fallen soldiers, victims of terror, and optionally any other relatives that have passed away.  Two minute-long sirens at 8pm and 11am stop the routine life and signal the sadness of the day. In the evening most people attend community ceremonies or watch Memorial eve Service on TV. (All the other Israeli TV channels suspend their broadcasts for 24 hours.)  During the day many go to the military cemeteries to pay respect to their relatives or friends who died for the country. We went to a service organized in a small neighborhood park nearby by the local Tzofim (scouts) group that our daughter belongs to and found there most of the school families.

It was very sad and beautiful. On a make-shift stage, near the banner with the word "Remember", a few teen scouts sung, played instruments, read poetry and talked about 20 people that went to the neighborhood schools, the army, and fell in one of the recent wars, military operations, terrorist attacks or tragic car accidents while at the army.  Next morning each of the kids had another memorial ceremony at their day care and schools, returning home in a teary and contemplative mood. I read that alternative ceremonies marking both - Israeli and Palestinian - victims of wars and terror were held in at least one location in Tel Aviv.

Toward the evening, the country slowly switch from mourning those who fell to celebrating the life they fell for. Independence Day cheer was very similar to the US July 4th celebrations just a bit more unruly  We walked with our Bostonian friends all the way from the Tel Aviv beachfront to Disengof street, then to ha Bima and Rabin square. And we tried every Israeli treat along the way - fresh fruit smoothies, shwarma and falafel on Frishman, coffee with cheesecake, Pizza Agvania, Vaniglia Ice Cream and then again at midnight, oven-hot bourekas. Our US-raised kids were at first hesitant but then thrilled to use the giant foam bottles to spray each other and some structures nearby imitating others.  Music, fireworks, flashing led light toys, foam, inflatable hammers, funny blue-and-white hats and kids of all ages freely running around well past bedtime. There was so much freedom and  happiness in the air.  Our guests mused that they haven't seen this side of Israel in their previous synagogue-organized tours.

Moshe mentioned that one of the newspapers just ran an article titled "Why are Israelis so damn happy?"  A question that seemed so fitting at the moment but we couldn't discuss it with the exploding boom of the fireworks and crowd cheer.  It may be the Mediterranean Passion for life, the sunshine, the open emotions culture, large and supportive family networks or the thrill and relief of life-in-danger. Just across from our ice cream stop was a place where the last real hope for Israeli-Palestinian Peace was shot in 1995 - Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin. Not by a Palestinian terrorist but by a local educated and sane Jewish terrorist opposed to Rabin's relatively left-wing policies. A lone and angry person that confused himself to be a revolutionary just as currently suspected in the Boston Marathon terror.

Our dear Bostonian friends, we are so glad you are all safe, that you run not so fast or took a break at this marathon or changed the viewing spot just before the explosions.  We hug you from this far away land that used to the terror signs and consequences. Where too many police sirens mean that urgent news will come soon, where armed security guards are a custom at schools, malls and any public events. People here know too well how sorrow fills up your heart and all you want is to lock up your doors, huddle your family and hide everyone under the down blanket keeping them far from any danger. But then you realize that this is exactly what terrorists wanted - attention and fear. And perhaps what we all should be doing instead is continue living our wonderful ordinary lives and trying to be damn happy.

March of the Millions

Last night we decided to join the March of the Million demonstration in Tel Aviv, and pulled the kids along with us. While we have been settling down, fighting to get the internet and color on the TV, the country has been drumming social revolution. It is about the time we join because the reasons seem right. We slowly get a taste of the high cost of living. Most of the goods and service prices are same or higher than in the US while after-tax salaries are at least 50% lower. This all is while country's economy is blooming.  (See full chart of the cost of living comparison, Boston vs Tel Aviv)

March of Millions gathered hundreds of thousands (Israel's population is 7.5 million).  Cell phone companies tracking attendance reported around 300,000 people marching in Tel Aviv alone. It was an exciting, safe, peaceful, and polite demonstration of people who are very angry with their government. No windows were broken and no one beaten or injured.  On opposite, like in the Disney movies, a beautiful hot air lantern and hundreds of colorful balloons were released in the air above the plaza. It seems that in this resentment of government policies the country was united - there were kids in baby carriers, strollers, young people, old people; jews and arabs; people speaking Hebrew, English and Russian. 

This guy is holding a Captain Hook figure, masterfully crafted from balloons, with a sign: 

"The country is stealing even from me" while the Prada ad is winking in the background.

This Jesus-looking gentelman on the light pole holds a very poignant sign:

 "Growth for the sake of growth is policy fit for cancer." 

Yes, people were singing and dancing.

Our kids were in awe and despite the exhaustion we were so happy that they got a chance to see these young energetic nice Tel Avivians, and realize the power of people to influence the authority.