What do the Carmel Market and the Donalda Golf Club have in common? Well, in general not very much, except if you happen to be having lunch with the irrepressible Sol Nayman and his lovely wife Queenie. In that case, in both locations you will have an endless stream of visitors to your table, exchanging greetings, and generally paying homage. It’s a bit like sitting with the most popular mayor ever!
Sol is a Holocaust survivor, and at the time of our lunch had just arrived in Israel via Poland, together with his young charges from the Toronto delegation of the March of the Living. They had come in time to observe Yom HaZikaron and Independence Day, an uplifting start to the Israel segment of the trip. Everyone was only too happy to soak up the vibrant colours of Israel; the sunshine, and the fresh food…especially after the gloom of Poland and the grim memory of the death camps.
A gap in their packed schedule enabled us to meet Sol and Queenie at the Carmel Market…and although we were lucky to find a somewhat out of the way restaurant in the market area, a surprising number of kids, chaperones, and others found their way to our table to say hello. (Why am I surprised? The same thing happens at home! Think bees to honey… lobbyists to politicians…you get the idea. ) I probably met more people in that two hours that I have in my whole stay in Israel. (Unfortunately, I will never remember any of their names.)
Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) , which I wrote about last week, and which Sol and the MOL group experienced in Poland, led to Yom HaZikaron this Tuesday/Wednesday. This time the sirens sounded twice; for one minute at 8:00 in the evening, and the next morning for two minutes at 11:00. Again the nation came to a stop. As the evening siren sounded, we could see whole families coming to stand in respect at the windows of their apartments. In the morning, we stood outside for two minutes with office workers, students, and teachers at our Ulpan, and also with the drivers who stopped to stand by their cars, to honour the memory of those who fell in battle, and those who died in terrorist attacks. Following that, there was a small and emotional ceremony upstairs. We each lit a memorial candle, some of us read poetry in both Hebrew and English, and my normally bubbly young teachers stood with tears in their eyes as they recalled those they knew personally. This is the reality of Israel. Everyone here is directly connected to someone who has died for their country.
It was a relief, although in some ways a bit jarring, to move directly from the sombre mood of the day to a joyous evening of Independence festivities. I had been told that this would be an evening that puts Purim in the shade, and this is to some degree true; partially because so much public money is poured into the celebration events, all of which are free. And more importantly, even though many of the events go on well into late evening, the city’s families are out in force. No early bedtimes on Yom Haatzmaut! It is nowhere near as boozy a night as Purim, but no less upbeat. The security presence is both reassuring and very efficient at ensuring the flow of huge throngs of people. (Canada at 150 could have learned a few things from this.)
In Tel Aviv, Independence parties go on all over town, but the main event takes place in Rabin Square, which is packed with people of all ages watching fireworks and a nostalgic stage show that intersperses folk-dancing with famous songs of each of the decades since 1948. It is fascinating to see and hear the evolution from the Russian-style music of the 40s and 50s to music that starts to reflect a more European influence in the 70s and onward.
There are lots of flags on display all week. Apartments, stores, offices, buses and cars are all decorated: some more imaginatively than others. For example, the local butcher had tiny Israeli flags placed on all his cuts of beef. They were the smallest we saw. And our building might take the prize for the most elongated flag in Israel. Just look to the left of the balconies; Hard to capture on an I-phone but very cool to see in person.
There are also those who wear the flag…and/or carry big blow-up blue and white hammers(?) as below.
Or these cute girls that have lit-up bows in their hair!
To add to the general atmosphere of happy chaos, there were vendors everywhere selling, oddly, tins of spray foam, called “snow spray” that kids of all ages used with wild abandon to foam each other, and not infrequently, innocent bystanders. We had to take evasive action more than a few times. Why this is such a “thing” here is hard to fathom.
The next day, the party went on with ten of thousands down at the beach to watch the annual airshow.
The family&friends barbecue is a major tradition in Israel, and all through the city we could smell steaks , burgers, and sausages on the flame. We were feeling a bit sorry for ourselves since we had nowhere to go, and no balcony or barbecue, but luckily Ben came to the rescue and we got an invitation to join his friends, a charming and eclectic group of people, so all ended well.
The next day, the city was quiet…everyone was exhausted…and so were we.