Paul Alster
Israel-based Broadcast Journalist
Twitter: paul_alster
Member of BAJ - British Association of Journalists
Israel-based Broadcast Journalist
Twitter: paul_alster
Member of BAJ - British Association of Journalists
The funny side of Israel
(A selection of Paul's lighter blogs and articles since 2009)
Jerusalem's Big Match (Blog - 3rd December, 2009)
The 'Big Match' in full flight
Most major cities around the world have their particular sporting rivalries. In New York it's always a big deal when the Yankees take on the Mets; in London, there are few bigger games that can draw a crowd than Arsenal against Chelsea - let's not even look north to Manchester where 'Utd versus City' is a contest that's hot enough to cause divisions within the same family; in Milan, Inter against AC is a sporting rivalry that goes back generations; whilst in Buenos Aires, Boca Juniors against River Plate has a city of millions glued to their seats.
Now, Jerusalem can be added to the list of great sporting rivalries with the newly evolved regular weekend clash between the Israeli police and the ultra-Orthodox Haredi community.
If you don't know who the Haredim are, well, they're the cute little chaps in black coats and hats, sporting bushy beards and ringlets by the side of their face. Curious little fellows, they are often the subject of whimsical caricatures or souvenir silver ornaments that visitors to the Holy Land take home with pride to adorn their mantelpiece or collection of holiday paraphernalia.
Jerusalem's big match has only recently evolved. It's evolution seems contrary to the regular run of play as Saturday, the Sabbath, the holiest day of the week for the religious community, (especially the ultra-religious community), is a day of rest, prayer, quiet reflection and contemplation. It's against the rulebook to do anything strenuous or requiring effort, like switching on a light, cooking, digging the garden, or even driving a car. So it comes as something of a surprise to the neutral observer that permission appears to have been given by their team management (the Rabbis) for the beating up of policemen, innocent passers-by, and members of the media on the Sabbath day.
It all started during the summer when a new purpose-built car park was opened on a Saturday to allow those visiting the Old City of Jerusalem to leave their vehicles outside the ancient city walls. This meant drivers no longer needed to abandon their cars in the adjacent narrow streets where for decades they have caused mayhem and disturbance to the flow of traffic, many tourist buses, and the like.
It seems that this most sensible traffic calming solution offended the Haredim and they've taken it upon themselves to leave their prayer books and go down the Old City 'ground' to get stuck in to motorists, police, and anyone else that take their fancy. The sight of a mob of grown men wearing full-length black silk coats, fur hats the size of a Chinese wok, and boots that went out of fashion when Napoleon headed east towards Russia, doing their best to harass and injure law-abiding citizens, was greeted as something of a new local phenomenon. After the first contest, there were more than a few red cards handed out and a number on the Haredi team were sent for a 'night in the chokey' - a local version of the 'sin bin'.
The contest had been played with surprising regularity (and more contestants on both sides) in subsequent weeks, until the game was moved to a new venue - the new Intel software factory; to the uninformed observer a strange location. But, there is a method in the Haredi madness.
The 'Men in Black' object to the factory being open on a Saturday and wish it to be closed on their day of rest, (a day that some on the opposing side argue adds up to seven days a week). The fact that they are seeking to deprive fellow citizens in this democratic country their right to choose when they can and can't work, seems to have evaded the logic of the 'Black' team. Faced by the 'Blues' - the local plods - the big Saturday game has been turning ever more violent, even though the Intel bosses have been seeking to find a reasonable solution.
In the end, Intel's offer to only employ Arabs and Christians (as Saturday is not their Sabbath), seemed to those with even half a brain to be an excellent solution - we'll call it a score draw. However, after initially seeming to accept the draw from the opposing team, the Haredim decided that they just can't bear the thought of missing out on their weekend pugilistic exercise and have returned to the battlefield until they score a victory for their team of not-so-merry men.
Is it being churlish to suggest that they should be treated in the same way as football hooligans around the world? i.e. Lock 'em up, give them a lifetime ban, and treat them with the full weight of the law? Is it unreasonable to wonder that if they possibly thought about doing a day's work for a change, (let's say five days a week instead of the current 'zero' performed - or should I say not performed - by many), they might not have the energy to stand around in scorching temperatures on Saturday afternoons acting like an army of penguins on crystal meth? They might instead prefer being at home in the
bosom of their families having a well earned kip.
This is one match I hope to see forcibly stopped by the authorities, and one team that shouldn't ever be offered a place on any pitch near me!
UPDATE: As a result of the 2013 Israeli general elections the ultra-Orthodox parties suffered a massive reverse when they were excluded from the governing Netanyahu-led coalition for the first time as voters moved to the centre to support Yesh Atid, formed only months earlier by TV host and now Finance Minister, Yair Lapid.
Now, Jerusalem can be added to the list of great sporting rivalries with the newly evolved regular weekend clash between the Israeli police and the ultra-Orthodox Haredi community.
If you don't know who the Haredim are, well, they're the cute little chaps in black coats and hats, sporting bushy beards and ringlets by the side of their face. Curious little fellows, they are often the subject of whimsical caricatures or souvenir silver ornaments that visitors to the Holy Land take home with pride to adorn their mantelpiece or collection of holiday paraphernalia.
Jerusalem's big match has only recently evolved. It's evolution seems contrary to the regular run of play as Saturday, the Sabbath, the holiest day of the week for the religious community, (especially the ultra-religious community), is a day of rest, prayer, quiet reflection and contemplation. It's against the rulebook to do anything strenuous or requiring effort, like switching on a light, cooking, digging the garden, or even driving a car. So it comes as something of a surprise to the neutral observer that permission appears to have been given by their team management (the Rabbis) for the beating up of policemen, innocent passers-by, and members of the media on the Sabbath day.
It all started during the summer when a new purpose-built car park was opened on a Saturday to allow those visiting the Old City of Jerusalem to leave their vehicles outside the ancient city walls. This meant drivers no longer needed to abandon their cars in the adjacent narrow streets where for decades they have caused mayhem and disturbance to the flow of traffic, many tourist buses, and the like.
It seems that this most sensible traffic calming solution offended the Haredim and they've taken it upon themselves to leave their prayer books and go down the Old City 'ground' to get stuck in to motorists, police, and anyone else that take their fancy. The sight of a mob of grown men wearing full-length black silk coats, fur hats the size of a Chinese wok, and boots that went out of fashion when Napoleon headed east towards Russia, doing their best to harass and injure law-abiding citizens, was greeted as something of a new local phenomenon. After the first contest, there were more than a few red cards handed out and a number on the Haredi team were sent for a 'night in the chokey' - a local version of the 'sin bin'.
The contest had been played with surprising regularity (and more contestants on both sides) in subsequent weeks, until the game was moved to a new venue - the new Intel software factory; to the uninformed observer a strange location. But, there is a method in the Haredi madness.
The 'Men in Black' object to the factory being open on a Saturday and wish it to be closed on their day of rest, (a day that some on the opposing side argue adds up to seven days a week). The fact that they are seeking to deprive fellow citizens in this democratic country their right to choose when they can and can't work, seems to have evaded the logic of the 'Black' team. Faced by the 'Blues' - the local plods - the big Saturday game has been turning ever more violent, even though the Intel bosses have been seeking to find a reasonable solution.
In the end, Intel's offer to only employ Arabs and Christians (as Saturday is not their Sabbath), seemed to those with even half a brain to be an excellent solution - we'll call it a score draw. However, after initially seeming to accept the draw from the opposing team, the Haredim decided that they just can't bear the thought of missing out on their weekend pugilistic exercise and have returned to the battlefield until they score a victory for their team of not-so-merry men.
Is it being churlish to suggest that they should be treated in the same way as football hooligans around the world? i.e. Lock 'em up, give them a lifetime ban, and treat them with the full weight of the law? Is it unreasonable to wonder that if they possibly thought about doing a day's work for a change, (let's say five days a week instead of the current 'zero' performed - or should I say not performed - by many), they might not have the energy to stand around in scorching temperatures on Saturday afternoons acting like an army of penguins on crystal meth? They might instead prefer being at home in the
bosom of their families having a well earned kip.
This is one match I hope to see forcibly stopped by the authorities, and one team that shouldn't ever be offered a place on any pitch near me!
UPDATE: As a result of the 2013 Israeli general elections the ultra-Orthodox parties suffered a massive reverse when they were excluded from the governing Netanyahu-led coalition for the first time as voters moved to the centre to support Yesh Atid, formed only months earlier by TV host and now Finance Minister, Yair Lapid.
'My Friend 'Porky' - June 2013 (Times of Israel)
http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/my-friend-porky/
The Indian crested porcupine
Rural Zichron Yaakov – 11pm. A clear night. Just me and the 'hund’ pounding the beat before turning in for the night.
On the edge of the Carmel – adjacent to the Ramat Hadiv nature reserve – jackals are often heard howling to attract a mate. At least I thought it was a jackal I heard howling a love-sick lament the other night, until a neighbour sheepishly refused to make eye contact with me the following morning and left me wondering if I had heard something quite different!
In five years of ‘tiyulim’ with my faithful hound Mocca, I’ve spotted owls, snakes, wild boar, and eagles, but nothing quite as surprising as this latest encounter.
It began when a lady ‘of a certain age’ who tends to trot her poodle around the same block at a similar time to me, stopped and breathlessly informed me that she had seen a ‘durban’ just around the corner. I thought it more than a touch surprising that the sighting of a South African late at night would leave the lady all of a quiver, but she explained that a ‘durban’ was one of those big hedgehog creatures with spines that it shoots at you when sensing danger.
She had hurried along in fear that the ‘durban’ might take a shot at her pooch and render him senseless. It took me a moment before I understood she had seen a porcupine; and a big one, at that. I wasn’t aware that we had porcupines in Israel, so left the lady (and her poodle) and headed along with my fearless mutt to the scene of the alleged sighting. Nothing. I hung around for a moment or two outside the house in question then, sure enough, heard a rustling noise coming from the vicinity of the neighbour’s trash.
And there he was. Much bigger than I had anticipated, snouting around a bag of garden cuttings, and quite superb. He saw me, Mocca woofed, and then 'Porky’s’ quills all stood to attention fanning out in the same way a peacock displays its plumage. (The thought crossed my mind that an umbrella might have been a good line of defence at this point.)
But he didn’t take aim and…fire. He just scuttled away under a parked car. I stood back a few yards, crouched down, and waited for him to reappear.
A car approached and the driver stopped to ask me if everything was OK? Clearly the sight of a grown man kneeling down on a pavement late at night - not Muslim, and not facing Mecca - had set alarm bells ringing. I told him what I had seen and he duly parked his car and came over to join me, stating that he had lived in the area all his life and never seen this notoriously private, nocturnal creature. A curious neighbour who had apparently been viewing the whole scene from across the road with some bemusement, came out to join the observation crew, as did my wife and eldest daughter, who I had contacted to hurry along and see our unexpected visitor.
‘Porky’ clearly had time on his quills because he wasn’t in any hurry to ‘play ball’. Then a cat suddenly came bounding along and ran under the parked car and ‘Porky’ came darting out the other side and sped along the street – faster than the famed Penelope Pitstop from The Wacky Races – making good his escape, accompanied by gasps of amazement from my band of onlookers.
We decided to let ‘Porky’ be and leave him to find his way back to the adjacent nature reserve from where we assumed he must have emerged some time earlier.
Apparently, the Indian crested porcupine is a secretive native of Israel, and after doing just a little research I read that they had caused damage to the famous/infamous ‘alleged’ research facility at Dimona back in 2007, chewing through important cables. Reuters reported at the time that the porcupines were tempted out into the open by a combination of “potatoes and chocolate milk”.
Of the same incident, Yediot Aharonot quoted one David Golan from the Dimona centre as saying, “a porcupine explosion posed a security threat.” Could exploding porcupines possibly be Israel’s much whispered secret weapon? Thrilling as the sighting of my spikey friend was, maybe it was also a sign that something’s afoot in my neck of the woods!
Note to self: Add chocolate milk to weekly shopping list from now on.
On the edge of the Carmel – adjacent to the Ramat Hadiv nature reserve – jackals are often heard howling to attract a mate. At least I thought it was a jackal I heard howling a love-sick lament the other night, until a neighbour sheepishly refused to make eye contact with me the following morning and left me wondering if I had heard something quite different!
In five years of ‘tiyulim’ with my faithful hound Mocca, I’ve spotted owls, snakes, wild boar, and eagles, but nothing quite as surprising as this latest encounter.
It began when a lady ‘of a certain age’ who tends to trot her poodle around the same block at a similar time to me, stopped and breathlessly informed me that she had seen a ‘durban’ just around the corner. I thought it more than a touch surprising that the sighting of a South African late at night would leave the lady all of a quiver, but she explained that a ‘durban’ was one of those big hedgehog creatures with spines that it shoots at you when sensing danger.
She had hurried along in fear that the ‘durban’ might take a shot at her pooch and render him senseless. It took me a moment before I understood she had seen a porcupine; and a big one, at that. I wasn’t aware that we had porcupines in Israel, so left the lady (and her poodle) and headed along with my fearless mutt to the scene of the alleged sighting. Nothing. I hung around for a moment or two outside the house in question then, sure enough, heard a rustling noise coming from the vicinity of the neighbour’s trash.
And there he was. Much bigger than I had anticipated, snouting around a bag of garden cuttings, and quite superb. He saw me, Mocca woofed, and then 'Porky’s’ quills all stood to attention fanning out in the same way a peacock displays its plumage. (The thought crossed my mind that an umbrella might have been a good line of defence at this point.)
But he didn’t take aim and…fire. He just scuttled away under a parked car. I stood back a few yards, crouched down, and waited for him to reappear.
A car approached and the driver stopped to ask me if everything was OK? Clearly the sight of a grown man kneeling down on a pavement late at night - not Muslim, and not facing Mecca - had set alarm bells ringing. I told him what I had seen and he duly parked his car and came over to join me, stating that he had lived in the area all his life and never seen this notoriously private, nocturnal creature. A curious neighbour who had apparently been viewing the whole scene from across the road with some bemusement, came out to join the observation crew, as did my wife and eldest daughter, who I had contacted to hurry along and see our unexpected visitor.
‘Porky’ clearly had time on his quills because he wasn’t in any hurry to ‘play ball’. Then a cat suddenly came bounding along and ran under the parked car and ‘Porky’ came darting out the other side and sped along the street – faster than the famed Penelope Pitstop from The Wacky Races – making good his escape, accompanied by gasps of amazement from my band of onlookers.
We decided to let ‘Porky’ be and leave him to find his way back to the adjacent nature reserve from where we assumed he must have emerged some time earlier.
Apparently, the Indian crested porcupine is a secretive native of Israel, and after doing just a little research I read that they had caused damage to the famous/infamous ‘alleged’ research facility at Dimona back in 2007, chewing through important cables. Reuters reported at the time that the porcupines were tempted out into the open by a combination of “potatoes and chocolate milk”.
Of the same incident, Yediot Aharonot quoted one David Golan from the Dimona centre as saying, “a porcupine explosion posed a security threat.” Could exploding porcupines possibly be Israel’s much whispered secret weapon? Thrilling as the sighting of my spikey friend was, maybe it was also a sign that something’s afoot in my neck of the woods!
Note to self: Add chocolate milk to weekly shopping list from now on.
Excuse me, I think I've found a bomb! (Blog 4th March, 2010)
Horses on Caesarea beach, close to the spot where I saw a barrel in the sea
It seemed just what the doctor ordered. I'd been at home most of the day working on another 'literary masterpiece' – not – when my good friend Arnold called and asked if I would care to join him for a breath of fresh air on the beach at Caesaria, next to the Roman aqueduct, for a walk to the Arab village of Jisr-A-Zarqa a few kilometres along the coast.
I didn't take much persuading. At around 5pm yesterday - as the sun started to set slowly in the west - we strode purposefully onto the Mediterranean sands with the backdrop of the well preserved 2000-year-old Roman structure only yards away from the water.
We hadn't gone more than a few strides when Arnold asked me if I could see something about 70 yards away from the beach bobbing up and down. I strained to get a good look at the clearly visible black object then decided to jump up on the broken plinth of a sunshade to get a view from a loftier position.
"It's a barrel. A black plastic barrel, I think" said I.
Arnold's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
"Just a minute, haven't those nice Hamas chaps been sending out barrels full of explosives into the sea to wash up on Israeli beaches and cause havoc?" I mused out loud.
"You're right" said Arnold, 'that is definitely a barrel."
I looked around the beach to see if anyone else could corroborate the evidence of our own eyes and could only spy a jogger half a mile away, and a couple who had apparently rather more important things on their minds at that particular moment.
I've found a bomb! And it's only 70 yards away! Now, if it had been just little old me spotting such an item, you would have been quite right to take my finding with a serious pinch of salt. But, as my companion is no less than a lieutenant commander in the Israeli Navy and has some understanding of these matters, I feel confident that what we saw was definitely a barrel that 'may' have had the potential to cause serious harm. Then again, it might be filled with pirate treasure, or Captain Morgan rum.
Arnold was straight on to the police, and after explaining for five minutes what we had found was told they'd be with us immediately. As the sun set and the barrel continued to bob up and down, moving ever closer to a rock promontory just 30 yards off shore, we retired to the other side of the structure constructed during the time of that champion of children's rights, King Herod. In hindsight, that was a pretty daft move as I wouldn't have fancied my chances of coming out unscathed after 100 tonnes of Roman masonry fell on my bonce!
Twenty minutes went by and clearly the Caesarea branch of the Israeli police had other more pressing matters to attend to - like giving out parking tickets or waiting for the kettle to boil in the canteen. Arnold called again – they were "definitely on their way this time". I offered him a bet of even money that they would arrive. He declined the offer. Maybe they couldn't find the seashore?
After another 15 minutes daylight was all but gone and the barrel was becoming less easy to pick out. Feeling uneasy at being in close proximity to a possible bomb that was no longer visible, we went for a stroll a kilometre up the beach and back again – as you do at such times – during which Arnold explained that these barrel bombs are detonated by remote control via a mobile phone when the bomb maker is satisfied it can cause most damage.
"Just a minute" said I, thinking out loud again, "if they can't see the barrel as they're in Gaza 50 miles away, how do they know when to press the button?"
"That is the flaw in their cunning plan" Arnold astutely observed. "They just wait until they think it should be there or thereabouts and then dial the code and it explodes."
"And what if the current carries the barrel back towards the Gaza Strip?" I puzzled out loud again.
"Then they suddenly become Israel's latest secret weapon" he laughed.
Back at 'Barrel Beach' it was now dark and no police had moved their lazy backsides within shouting distance of the Caesarea Aqueduct. I thought of calling again, speaking in English (which sometimes helps to get a result), saying something like:
'Now look here you chaps. You need to get a move on and deal with this damn nuisance. This isn't how to fight a war on terrorism. There is a bomb. I repeat there is a bomb in a barrel, in the water, only yards away from me!'
But the Israeli police are the Israeli police. Lazy, of dubious incorruptibility, and only interested in dealing with things that allow them to get home in time for the end of their shift. If you read in days to come of an explosion on a beautiful Israeli beach that destroyed part of a world heritage landmark, then you will at least know that two reasonably good citizens did try - to some extent - to avert the disaster.
As it was, it was getting a bit chilly, so we went home and had hot chocolate and a nice slice of cake.
I didn't take much persuading. At around 5pm yesterday - as the sun started to set slowly in the west - we strode purposefully onto the Mediterranean sands with the backdrop of the well preserved 2000-year-old Roman structure only yards away from the water.
We hadn't gone more than a few strides when Arnold asked me if I could see something about 70 yards away from the beach bobbing up and down. I strained to get a good look at the clearly visible black object then decided to jump up on the broken plinth of a sunshade to get a view from a loftier position.
"It's a barrel. A black plastic barrel, I think" said I.
Arnold's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
"Just a minute, haven't those nice Hamas chaps been sending out barrels full of explosives into the sea to wash up on Israeli beaches and cause havoc?" I mused out loud.
"You're right" said Arnold, 'that is definitely a barrel."
I looked around the beach to see if anyone else could corroborate the evidence of our own eyes and could only spy a jogger half a mile away, and a couple who had apparently rather more important things on their minds at that particular moment.
I've found a bomb! And it's only 70 yards away! Now, if it had been just little old me spotting such an item, you would have been quite right to take my finding with a serious pinch of salt. But, as my companion is no less than a lieutenant commander in the Israeli Navy and has some understanding of these matters, I feel confident that what we saw was definitely a barrel that 'may' have had the potential to cause serious harm. Then again, it might be filled with pirate treasure, or Captain Morgan rum.
Arnold was straight on to the police, and after explaining for five minutes what we had found was told they'd be with us immediately. As the sun set and the barrel continued to bob up and down, moving ever closer to a rock promontory just 30 yards off shore, we retired to the other side of the structure constructed during the time of that champion of children's rights, King Herod. In hindsight, that was a pretty daft move as I wouldn't have fancied my chances of coming out unscathed after 100 tonnes of Roman masonry fell on my bonce!
Twenty minutes went by and clearly the Caesarea branch of the Israeli police had other more pressing matters to attend to - like giving out parking tickets or waiting for the kettle to boil in the canteen. Arnold called again – they were "definitely on their way this time". I offered him a bet of even money that they would arrive. He declined the offer. Maybe they couldn't find the seashore?
After another 15 minutes daylight was all but gone and the barrel was becoming less easy to pick out. Feeling uneasy at being in close proximity to a possible bomb that was no longer visible, we went for a stroll a kilometre up the beach and back again – as you do at such times – during which Arnold explained that these barrel bombs are detonated by remote control via a mobile phone when the bomb maker is satisfied it can cause most damage.
"Just a minute" said I, thinking out loud again, "if they can't see the barrel as they're in Gaza 50 miles away, how do they know when to press the button?"
"That is the flaw in their cunning plan" Arnold astutely observed. "They just wait until they think it should be there or thereabouts and then dial the code and it explodes."
"And what if the current carries the barrel back towards the Gaza Strip?" I puzzled out loud again.
"Then they suddenly become Israel's latest secret weapon" he laughed.
Back at 'Barrel Beach' it was now dark and no police had moved their lazy backsides within shouting distance of the Caesarea Aqueduct. I thought of calling again, speaking in English (which sometimes helps to get a result), saying something like:
'Now look here you chaps. You need to get a move on and deal with this damn nuisance. This isn't how to fight a war on terrorism. There is a bomb. I repeat there is a bomb in a barrel, in the water, only yards away from me!'
But the Israeli police are the Israeli police. Lazy, of dubious incorruptibility, and only interested in dealing with things that allow them to get home in time for the end of their shift. If you read in days to come of an explosion on a beautiful Israeli beach that destroyed part of a world heritage landmark, then you will at least know that two reasonably good citizens did try - to some extent - to avert the disaster.
As it was, it was getting a bit chilly, so we went home and had hot chocolate and a nice slice of cake.
It's big, it smells, and it ain't kosher! (Blog - 11th June, 2010)
A rather wild boar
Life in semi-rural Israel can be a real pleasure, especially if, like me, you appreciate nature and enjoy being in relatively close contact with the animal kingdom.
When my wife and I chose to live in Zichron Yaakov it was because it offered all we were looking for; a relatively small community, (but with nearly all the everyday facilities one could possibly need), good schools for our girls, close proximity to the beautiful beaches north of Caesaria, and a green outlook with the Carmel hills rolling down around us. It's a pretty idyllic spot.
To make matters even better, we found a house that looks directly onto the Rothschild nature reserve of Ramat HaNadiv, on the edge of a steep ravine covered in olive trees and scrubland on the opposite side. And, on our side, a variety of plants and trees, most of which I've been unable to put a name to. Directly opposite the house on the other side of the ravine – about 100 metres as the crow flies – is a huge cage which is run by the park rangers as an R&R retreat for injured birds of prey. Eagles, buzzards, vultures, owls and hawks, are all restored to good health by the expert ornithologists who gradually train them to return to the wild, training runs that frequently cross over our heads and send the green parrot population heading for cover for fear of ending up on an eagle's dinner table.
Crickets whirr loudly through the evening and into the night, competing with jackals that roam the reserve and get a bit of a howl on when the female of the species 'puts out' that she's ready to be 'covered', as they say in the horse breeding business.
Our only pet is our faithful dog Mocca, a mongrel we chose from the animal rescue centre at Hadera just over two years ago and who has become a much loved member of the Alster family. Being the only one that doesn’t answer back, who is always happy to see me, and costs a relatively small amount to keep, it would be fair to say that there are times when he goes very close to being at the top of my family favourites list - if only for a brief while.
The girls walk Mocca morning and afternoon, and I take him out for a stroll at night where he struts his stuff around the neighbourhood as if he owns the place, exchanging pleasantries with the other hounds on the block. He never gets into a fight, and all the dogs, both male and female seem to like him – I suspect he might be gay, butI don't love him any less for it.
His evening ritual is to pad around slowly, sniffing here and occasionally woofing there, and then, as we return to within sight of the gate at the bottom of the steps up to my house, he always sprints the last 30 metres, rather as I used to do at the end of cross-country running at school as we were being counted in, and I wanted to impress with my physical fitness and stamina. The fact that I'd walked most of the previous five miles is neither here nor there!
Anyway, a few nights ago Mocca headed around the corner of our street towards an open area of scrubland whereupon I found him rooted to the spot, furiously sniffing the air as his tail curled alarmingly between his legs. I asked him if there was a problem, but he refused to explain. Then, with a feeble whine, he turned around and scooted back in the direction of the house at high speed. 'Stupid dog'.
I peered curiously into the darkness. Despite my lack of foresight in not packing night vision goggles for the 10 minute stroll, it didn't take the instinct of James Bond or David Attenborough to sense pretty quickly that there was something out there. Then an audible rustling noise made by 'something of substance' emanated from the bushes. Had I happened upon a young couple 'pitching-the-woo' (as they said in days gone by), or was a terrorist about to leap out and 'make my day' by making me a 'martyr'? Before I had time to hatch a cunning plan, all was revealed. It was big, it was hairy, and it definitely wasn't kosher! A white tusked, bigger-than-I-had-ever-suspected wild boar started trotting slowly, but most definitely towards me.
'Surely it must be frightened of humans', I thought briefly. But then, as it continued its progress in my direction, I quickly formed the opinion that maybe I was more frightened of it, than it was of me, and that discretion was definitely the better part of valour. First rule of warfare – never turn your back on the enemy. 'Oh sod that' I thought, as I shouted out, 'Ohhhhh shit!', turned on my heels, and ran at a pace that I swear would give Usain Bolt something to think about. I'd gone at least 50 metres when I glanced behind and noticed that 'old pigface' had ground to a halt, probably offended by my turn of phrase.
He stared at me, and I stared back at him. My faithful, 'fearless' hound hidden behind bushes half-way along the street. It was nearly midnight and there wasn't a soul about. The crickets whirred in the silence. From the eagles cage I could hear a squawking noise that almost drowned out the beating of my heart – but not quite. The boar – I'm talking about the one with the tusks, not me - looked me up and down for a few moments and then appeared to decide I just wasn't worth the effort, turned its piggy tail and headed back into the night from whence it came.
Well! What a palaver! A quiet evening stroll had turned into a spot of man versus beast short-course athletics. Mocca, looking somewhat embarrassed at his lack of canine backbone, eventually came ambling over to see if I was OK. "You big puff", I told him, and he jumped up to show me how happy he was that all's well that ends well. Thirty metres from the gate, his dawdle suddenly turned into the customary sprint and he shot around the corner, up the stairs and onto the lawn, impressing no-one - particularly not me. Good old Mocca.
When my wife and I chose to live in Zichron Yaakov it was because it offered all we were looking for; a relatively small community, (but with nearly all the everyday facilities one could possibly need), good schools for our girls, close proximity to the beautiful beaches north of Caesaria, and a green outlook with the Carmel hills rolling down around us. It's a pretty idyllic spot.
To make matters even better, we found a house that looks directly onto the Rothschild nature reserve of Ramat HaNadiv, on the edge of a steep ravine covered in olive trees and scrubland on the opposite side. And, on our side, a variety of plants and trees, most of which I've been unable to put a name to. Directly opposite the house on the other side of the ravine – about 100 metres as the crow flies – is a huge cage which is run by the park rangers as an R&R retreat for injured birds of prey. Eagles, buzzards, vultures, owls and hawks, are all restored to good health by the expert ornithologists who gradually train them to return to the wild, training runs that frequently cross over our heads and send the green parrot population heading for cover for fear of ending up on an eagle's dinner table.
Crickets whirr loudly through the evening and into the night, competing with jackals that roam the reserve and get a bit of a howl on when the female of the species 'puts out' that she's ready to be 'covered', as they say in the horse breeding business.
Our only pet is our faithful dog Mocca, a mongrel we chose from the animal rescue centre at Hadera just over two years ago and who has become a much loved member of the Alster family. Being the only one that doesn’t answer back, who is always happy to see me, and costs a relatively small amount to keep, it would be fair to say that there are times when he goes very close to being at the top of my family favourites list - if only for a brief while.
The girls walk Mocca morning and afternoon, and I take him out for a stroll at night where he struts his stuff around the neighbourhood as if he owns the place, exchanging pleasantries with the other hounds on the block. He never gets into a fight, and all the dogs, both male and female seem to like him – I suspect he might be gay, butI don't love him any less for it.
His evening ritual is to pad around slowly, sniffing here and occasionally woofing there, and then, as we return to within sight of the gate at the bottom of the steps up to my house, he always sprints the last 30 metres, rather as I used to do at the end of cross-country running at school as we were being counted in, and I wanted to impress with my physical fitness and stamina. The fact that I'd walked most of the previous five miles is neither here nor there!
Anyway, a few nights ago Mocca headed around the corner of our street towards an open area of scrubland whereupon I found him rooted to the spot, furiously sniffing the air as his tail curled alarmingly between his legs. I asked him if there was a problem, but he refused to explain. Then, with a feeble whine, he turned around and scooted back in the direction of the house at high speed. 'Stupid dog'.
I peered curiously into the darkness. Despite my lack of foresight in not packing night vision goggles for the 10 minute stroll, it didn't take the instinct of James Bond or David Attenborough to sense pretty quickly that there was something out there. Then an audible rustling noise made by 'something of substance' emanated from the bushes. Had I happened upon a young couple 'pitching-the-woo' (as they said in days gone by), or was a terrorist about to leap out and 'make my day' by making me a 'martyr'? Before I had time to hatch a cunning plan, all was revealed. It was big, it was hairy, and it definitely wasn't kosher! A white tusked, bigger-than-I-had-ever-suspected wild boar started trotting slowly, but most definitely towards me.
'Surely it must be frightened of humans', I thought briefly. But then, as it continued its progress in my direction, I quickly formed the opinion that maybe I was more frightened of it, than it was of me, and that discretion was definitely the better part of valour. First rule of warfare – never turn your back on the enemy. 'Oh sod that' I thought, as I shouted out, 'Ohhhhh shit!', turned on my heels, and ran at a pace that I swear would give Usain Bolt something to think about. I'd gone at least 50 metres when I glanced behind and noticed that 'old pigface' had ground to a halt, probably offended by my turn of phrase.
He stared at me, and I stared back at him. My faithful, 'fearless' hound hidden behind bushes half-way along the street. It was nearly midnight and there wasn't a soul about. The crickets whirred in the silence. From the eagles cage I could hear a squawking noise that almost drowned out the beating of my heart – but not quite. The boar – I'm talking about the one with the tusks, not me - looked me up and down for a few moments and then appeared to decide I just wasn't worth the effort, turned its piggy tail and headed back into the night from whence it came.
Well! What a palaver! A quiet evening stroll had turned into a spot of man versus beast short-course athletics. Mocca, looking somewhat embarrassed at his lack of canine backbone, eventually came ambling over to see if I was OK. "You big puff", I told him, and he jumped up to show me how happy he was that all's well that ends well. Thirty metres from the gate, his dawdle suddenly turned into the customary sprint and he shot around the corner, up the stairs and onto the lawn, impressing no-one - particularly not me. Good old Mocca.
How to catch an Israeli spy - December 2012 (Times of Israel)
http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/how-to-catch-an-israeli-spy/
Israel's Griffon vulture. Does he look like a spy to you?
If you’ve ever wondered just how hard it is to blow the cover of Israel’s world renowned intelligence operatives then you need look no further than Sudan to receive an object lesson in how to catch an Israeli spy.
Clearly a tit-for-tat measure by the Sudanese for what they claim is Israel's blowing up of the Yarmouk munitions factory in Khartoum on October 23, the East African nation is claiming a huge coup in having intercepted a vulture – yes, a vulture – who they are certain has been acting as an Israeli special agent.
The unfortunate creature was caught ‘red-clawed’ with a GPS tracking signal about his feathered personage, together with an Israeli Nature and Parks Authority tag around his ankle and the code number PP0277. The Sudanese argue this is very much an open and shut cage – I mean, case – as it is obvious that the bird, who reportedly refused to make any comment to his captors despite being questioned at length, was spying on sensitive Sudanese interests with a view to returning to the Jewish State, from whence he came, before debriefing the heads of Israeli intelligence on his findings.
The bird’s silence appears to be taken by his captors as acknowledgement of his guilt, but one Sudanese source reportedly insisted it is only a matter of time before the vulture spills the beans. “We have ways of making him squawk”, he doubtless assured Sudanese internal security operatives.
Israeli claims that the Griffon vulture (of the type admired by hordes of tourists at sites such as Gamla in the north of Israel where the vulture colony has thrived in recent years), had been tagged with a monitoring device to chart his flight path on his journey south for the winter, have been poo-pood by Sudan who are confident they have disrupted a major spying network. Even the fact that he had a return Jerusalem address on him and details of the ornithological research project about his plumage, have failed to dampen the fervour of those who have claimed a massive moral victory over their enemy.
This is not the first time Arab nations have claimed that Israel is using wild animals as spies. The Sharm-el-Sheikh shark incident of 2010 springs readily to mind, whilst another vulture (or could it be the same one in disguise), was arrested and interrogated by Saudi Arabian special forces last year only to eventually be released on the instructions of the Crown Prince, who accepted the presence of the bird indicated nothing more than an overgrown parrot with a bad sense of direction.
Even the Turks reportedly suspected Israel of sending a spy bird to their territory as recently as May when a dead Merops Apiaster, also known as a European Bee Eater, was found with an Israeli tag on its leg. Signs of the bird having taken a cyanide capsule when it realized it couldn’t avoid being apprehended were not confirmed.
As far as our incarcerated feathered friend is concerned, hopes are fairly high that common sense will prevail and he may be released soon. “He’ll think Christmas has come early,” one Sudanese insider suggested.
I hope not for his sake, just in case the Sudanese have also mistaken him for a turkey!
Clearly a tit-for-tat measure by the Sudanese for what they claim is Israel's blowing up of the Yarmouk munitions factory in Khartoum on October 23, the East African nation is claiming a huge coup in having intercepted a vulture – yes, a vulture – who they are certain has been acting as an Israeli special agent.
The unfortunate creature was caught ‘red-clawed’ with a GPS tracking signal about his feathered personage, together with an Israeli Nature and Parks Authority tag around his ankle and the code number PP0277. The Sudanese argue this is very much an open and shut cage – I mean, case – as it is obvious that the bird, who reportedly refused to make any comment to his captors despite being questioned at length, was spying on sensitive Sudanese interests with a view to returning to the Jewish State, from whence he came, before debriefing the heads of Israeli intelligence on his findings.
The bird’s silence appears to be taken by his captors as acknowledgement of his guilt, but one Sudanese source reportedly insisted it is only a matter of time before the vulture spills the beans. “We have ways of making him squawk”, he doubtless assured Sudanese internal security operatives.
Israeli claims that the Griffon vulture (of the type admired by hordes of tourists at sites such as Gamla in the north of Israel where the vulture colony has thrived in recent years), had been tagged with a monitoring device to chart his flight path on his journey south for the winter, have been poo-pood by Sudan who are confident they have disrupted a major spying network. Even the fact that he had a return Jerusalem address on him and details of the ornithological research project about his plumage, have failed to dampen the fervour of those who have claimed a massive moral victory over their enemy.
This is not the first time Arab nations have claimed that Israel is using wild animals as spies. The Sharm-el-Sheikh shark incident of 2010 springs readily to mind, whilst another vulture (or could it be the same one in disguise), was arrested and interrogated by Saudi Arabian special forces last year only to eventually be released on the instructions of the Crown Prince, who accepted the presence of the bird indicated nothing more than an overgrown parrot with a bad sense of direction.
Even the Turks reportedly suspected Israel of sending a spy bird to their territory as recently as May when a dead Merops Apiaster, also known as a European Bee Eater, was found with an Israeli tag on its leg. Signs of the bird having taken a cyanide capsule when it realized it couldn’t avoid being apprehended were not confirmed.
As far as our incarcerated feathered friend is concerned, hopes are fairly high that common sense will prevail and he may be released soon. “He’ll think Christmas has come early,” one Sudanese insider suggested.
I hope not for his sake, just in case the Sudanese have also mistaken him for a turkey!
Never mind ‘Iron Dome’; I want a decent firewall!
- January 2012 (Times of Israel)
http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/never-mind-iron-dome-i-want-a-decent-firewall/
Just when you thought it was safe to believe that, should our old "friend" President Ahmedinejad or any of the proxy militias he funds both to the north and south of Israel decide to fire a rocket at us we would be saved by the ‘Iron Dome’ missile interception system, we suddenly find ourselves under attack and battening down the hatches against a completely new and very aggressive source; Cyberwar has come to Israel.
It all started a couple of weeks ago when a computer hacker, allegedly connected to Saudi Arabia, managed to retrieve the credit card information of many thousands of Israelis and reportedly remove money from a number of accounts. I remember hearing the news of this event and thinking to myself, “You’ve got to feel sorry for the poor sod whose account has been hacked."
Less than an hour later I answered a phone call from a representative of Isracard who told me my wife’s credit card was on the list published by the audacious felon; they wanted to let us know and discuss the matter. The old joke sprung immediately to mind about the guy who’s told that his wife’s credit card has been stolen. When his friend asks him if he’s going to report it
to the police, he replies, “Absolutely not. There’s no way the thief can spend as much as her!”
Anyway, to Isracard’s credit they acted quickly and there was no obvious harm done – other than the inconvenience to my good lady of not having a credit card for five days, (thank you, mystery Saudi Arabian) – but on that same day, not only was
Isracard’s security compromised, but also Israel’s national airline El Al, and that of the Israel Stock Exchange.
I would expect that most of you reading this piece will be somewhat like myself, in that you are able to use a computer but have only a passing understanding of how the security systems work and what personal information it is able to protect. Naively, I, like most others, had assumed that whether I am protected by Norton, Kaspersky, AVG or any other system most of us download to give ourselves a (possibly false) feeling of security, the chances of me being hacked would be pretty slim as long as I don’t download any suspicious items.
So, with that in mind, I have to admit to now feeling less and less confident by the day about my relatively inconsequential personal data security, if massive Israeli hi-tech corporations whose security systems and firewalls are surely a thousand times more comprehensive than mine, appear to be torn open at a whim by one or more faceless individuals sitting thousands of miles away, who wish to cause significant damage and disruption to the everyday lives of Israeli citizens and massive embarrassment to corporate Israel.
In the latest wave of cyber attacks Israeli sites once again appear to have proved easy pickings. I say "appear to have", because we don’t know how many companies have actually successfully fended off a major attempt at cyber intrusion. This time the website of the newspaper Haaretz was hit, as too were the sites of the Dan bus company and the Israel Festival. But it was also revealed that the websites of two of Israel’s leading hospitals, Tel Hashomer and Assuta, successfully fended off determined attempts by hackers to bring them down and seriously damage the medical records of thousands of patients.
It was a group of former Israeli army computer programmers who invented the first-ever firewall in the 1980s - originally, I understand, to stop different branches of our military from accessing one another’s top-secret data – and since then Israel has been at the forefront of the hi-tech revolution and is acknowledged around the globe as a world leader in many areas of technology development.
Should the wave of cyber attacks on our country continue there is no doubt that serious damage could very well be done, compromising the personal data security of millions of people and theoretically presenting a clear and present danger to our military and defence capabilities. Surely the Israeli government must consider it a top priority to bring together the best minds
in the industry to do everything necessary to foil what will undoubtedly become a growing wave of attempts to breach the security of Israel’s major institutions.
To be fair to the powers that be, it has been reported that emergency drills have recently been carried out by the Counter-Terrorism Bureau and also by the National Cyber Command. If I was in charge of the public purse I would spare no expense in granting these agencies whatever is deemed necessary to significantly beef up Israel’s hi-tech security.
These initial successes of the Saudi hacker will surely act as a clarion call to those many other opponents of Israel who could seek to replicate and even exceed his "achievements," raising the ante day by day in what may eventually turn into a literally deadly game of virtual one-upmanship.
It all started a couple of weeks ago when a computer hacker, allegedly connected to Saudi Arabia, managed to retrieve the credit card information of many thousands of Israelis and reportedly remove money from a number of accounts. I remember hearing the news of this event and thinking to myself, “You’ve got to feel sorry for the poor sod whose account has been hacked."
Less than an hour later I answered a phone call from a representative of Isracard who told me my wife’s credit card was on the list published by the audacious felon; they wanted to let us know and discuss the matter. The old joke sprung immediately to mind about the guy who’s told that his wife’s credit card has been stolen. When his friend asks him if he’s going to report it
to the police, he replies, “Absolutely not. There’s no way the thief can spend as much as her!”
Anyway, to Isracard’s credit they acted quickly and there was no obvious harm done – other than the inconvenience to my good lady of not having a credit card for five days, (thank you, mystery Saudi Arabian) – but on that same day, not only was
Isracard’s security compromised, but also Israel’s national airline El Al, and that of the Israel Stock Exchange.
I would expect that most of you reading this piece will be somewhat like myself, in that you are able to use a computer but have only a passing understanding of how the security systems work and what personal information it is able to protect. Naively, I, like most others, had assumed that whether I am protected by Norton, Kaspersky, AVG or any other system most of us download to give ourselves a (possibly false) feeling of security, the chances of me being hacked would be pretty slim as long as I don’t download any suspicious items.
So, with that in mind, I have to admit to now feeling less and less confident by the day about my relatively inconsequential personal data security, if massive Israeli hi-tech corporations whose security systems and firewalls are surely a thousand times more comprehensive than mine, appear to be torn open at a whim by one or more faceless individuals sitting thousands of miles away, who wish to cause significant damage and disruption to the everyday lives of Israeli citizens and massive embarrassment to corporate Israel.
In the latest wave of cyber attacks Israeli sites once again appear to have proved easy pickings. I say "appear to have", because we don’t know how many companies have actually successfully fended off a major attempt at cyber intrusion. This time the website of the newspaper Haaretz was hit, as too were the sites of the Dan bus company and the Israel Festival. But it was also revealed that the websites of two of Israel’s leading hospitals, Tel Hashomer and Assuta, successfully fended off determined attempts by hackers to bring them down and seriously damage the medical records of thousands of patients.
It was a group of former Israeli army computer programmers who invented the first-ever firewall in the 1980s - originally, I understand, to stop different branches of our military from accessing one another’s top-secret data – and since then Israel has been at the forefront of the hi-tech revolution and is acknowledged around the globe as a world leader in many areas of technology development.
Should the wave of cyber attacks on our country continue there is no doubt that serious damage could very well be done, compromising the personal data security of millions of people and theoretically presenting a clear and present danger to our military and defence capabilities. Surely the Israeli government must consider it a top priority to bring together the best minds
in the industry to do everything necessary to foil what will undoubtedly become a growing wave of attempts to breach the security of Israel’s major institutions.
To be fair to the powers that be, it has been reported that emergency drills have recently been carried out by the Counter-Terrorism Bureau and also by the National Cyber Command. If I was in charge of the public purse I would spare no expense in granting these agencies whatever is deemed necessary to significantly beef up Israel’s hi-tech security.
These initial successes of the Saudi hacker will surely act as a clarion call to those many other opponents of Israel who could seek to replicate and even exceed his "achievements," raising the ante day by day in what may eventually turn into a literally deadly game of virtual one-upmanship.
Obama, Queen Elizabeth, and the carrot! (Blog - 20th May, 2011)
There’s been so much going on over the last week that this will have to be a whistle-stop round-up of events both local and international, on a variety of subjects.
Last night, US President Barack Obama rewarded the Palestinian Authority’s decision to join forces with the terrorist entity that is Hamas for their push for statehood at the UN in September, by declaring America’s support for a return to the 1967 borders - with a few nips and tucks here and there. It’s not often you’ll hear me speaking with the same voice as our prime minister, but I think 'Bibi' Netanyahu is right to be furious with Obama.
Only a matter of weeks after he authorised the ‘rubbing out’ of the world’s most wanted Islamist terrorist as part of his avowed intent to never let these evil creatures rest in comfort, Obama then hands a gift-wrapped publicity coup to the Palestinians which even stunned the powers that be in Ramallah and Gaza City. Surely the Palestinians' own shocked reaction to Obama’s statement speaks loud enough of this desperate faux pas as US foreign policy becomes ever more obtuse and
confused. I expect that Bibi will have a few strong words for Obama when they sit down to Friday night dinner tonight in Washington!
As if proof were needed of just how badly the US is barking up the wrong tree, the Jerusalem Post reported only yesterday, (according to Palestinian Media Watch) that the Palestinian Authority proudly voted to award every convicted bomber and terrorist a monthly salary from the state - they drew the line at extending their generosity to car thieves and petty criminals. Only murderers of Israelis and those who attempted to murder Israelis are worthy of receiving a state salary!
The anniversary of the attempt by the IHH flotilla to break the blockade of Gaza is fast approaching and it looks as though Turkey is once again planning to stir things up by supporting another effort to reach Gaza. The Turks have more faces than Big Ben, and whilst trying to cosy up to Europe in their attempt to gain entry to the EU they have been at the same time actively courting both Syria and Iran in trying to create an axis to pressurize Israel on a range of issues. They have gone noticeably quiet however since their kind-hearted colleague President Assad gave the orders for his army to murder more than a 1000 of
his own people. Turkey though, remains a steadfast supporter of the IHH, (the organization on a number of international terror lists), which finance the flotillas and recently (together with Hamas) condemned the killing of Osama Bin Laden as “an act of American terrorism”.
Hopefully those who believe the IHH to be ‘peace activists’ will bear this in mind before jumping quickly to conclusions and condemning Israel as they did so readily last summer.
And now, something completely different...
Whilst I was away in England earlier this month the Knesset passed a bill allowing Israel’s sports betting board (ISBB) to receive a licence to bet on live transmissions of European horse racing. Hurrah!! At last I should have a chance of making a few shekels working in the industry I know best. Of course, nothing in Israel is quite so straight forward, and already the ‘horse trading’ (if you’ll excuse the pun), has begun on just how much of the expected profits from the racing cake each ministerial department and good cause claims for itself. At the last count that adds up to something around 280%!
One sign that this new development is being taken ever so slightly seriously is that Israel’s sports channel, Channel 5, has
purchased the broadcast rights to some key British races and asked 'yours truly' to co-present and commentate on the Oaks and Derby races that will be run at Epsom on June 3 and 4. So, I’ll be back behind the microphone, explaining (in Hebrew) the nuances of the British racing scene, (both the sport and betting), to a doubtless baffled Israeli public who will be wondering why thousands of men have turned up to watch some horses run round a field whilst looking like collective extras from the Ascot Gavotte scene in 'My Fair
Lady’.
The Queen, who is more animated about horse racing then absolutely anything else, owns the favourite for this year’s Derby, Carlton House, a good winner of the Dante Stakes at York last week. She’s been trying to win the Derby for over 60 years and there will be massive media coverage of her latest attempt to break her hoodoo. I understand that Her Majesty recently went along to visit her star racehorse at the stables of her trainer, Sir Michael Stoute, and as usual brought a carrier bag full of chopped carrots for her steed to munch on.
A very nervous groom was holding the half tonne creature while the ‘Jelly Bean’ fed him some of the meticulously prepared vegetables, but one piece fell from the horse’s mouth to the ground. Being unaware of the protocol for such an occurrence, the groom didn’t know whether or not he should pick up the errant ’orangey bit’, and after a slight pause - when no-one moved a muscle - he decided to bend down and pick up the rogue carrot, only to find himself banging heads with The Queen who
had spontaneously decided to pick it up for herself!
There was a reported ‘audible silence’ for a few moments as the groom wondered if he might be whisked off to the Tower, then apparently, The Queen burst out laughing and told the red-faced groom not to worry. She was fine.
Best of luck to the royal runner Carlton House, (7/4 favourite, if you’re interested) who I believe will win and give his owner the thrill of a lifetime.
That’s all for this week. Shalom from Israel.
UPDATE: Carlton House finished third, beaten just two lengths after losing a shoe while challenging for the lead 150 yards form the finish. Israelis - as of August 2013 - are now able to bet on live broadcast of British and Irish racing at local betting cafes/shops.
Last night, US President Barack Obama rewarded the Palestinian Authority’s decision to join forces with the terrorist entity that is Hamas for their push for statehood at the UN in September, by declaring America’s support for a return to the 1967 borders - with a few nips and tucks here and there. It’s not often you’ll hear me speaking with the same voice as our prime minister, but I think 'Bibi' Netanyahu is right to be furious with Obama.
Only a matter of weeks after he authorised the ‘rubbing out’ of the world’s most wanted Islamist terrorist as part of his avowed intent to never let these evil creatures rest in comfort, Obama then hands a gift-wrapped publicity coup to the Palestinians which even stunned the powers that be in Ramallah and Gaza City. Surely the Palestinians' own shocked reaction to Obama’s statement speaks loud enough of this desperate faux pas as US foreign policy becomes ever more obtuse and
confused. I expect that Bibi will have a few strong words for Obama when they sit down to Friday night dinner tonight in Washington!
As if proof were needed of just how badly the US is barking up the wrong tree, the Jerusalem Post reported only yesterday, (according to Palestinian Media Watch) that the Palestinian Authority proudly voted to award every convicted bomber and terrorist a monthly salary from the state - they drew the line at extending their generosity to car thieves and petty criminals. Only murderers of Israelis and those who attempted to murder Israelis are worthy of receiving a state salary!
The anniversary of the attempt by the IHH flotilla to break the blockade of Gaza is fast approaching and it looks as though Turkey is once again planning to stir things up by supporting another effort to reach Gaza. The Turks have more faces than Big Ben, and whilst trying to cosy up to Europe in their attempt to gain entry to the EU they have been at the same time actively courting both Syria and Iran in trying to create an axis to pressurize Israel on a range of issues. They have gone noticeably quiet however since their kind-hearted colleague President Assad gave the orders for his army to murder more than a 1000 of
his own people. Turkey though, remains a steadfast supporter of the IHH, (the organization on a number of international terror lists), which finance the flotillas and recently (together with Hamas) condemned the killing of Osama Bin Laden as “an act of American terrorism”.
Hopefully those who believe the IHH to be ‘peace activists’ will bear this in mind before jumping quickly to conclusions and condemning Israel as they did so readily last summer.
And now, something completely different...
Whilst I was away in England earlier this month the Knesset passed a bill allowing Israel’s sports betting board (ISBB) to receive a licence to bet on live transmissions of European horse racing. Hurrah!! At last I should have a chance of making a few shekels working in the industry I know best. Of course, nothing in Israel is quite so straight forward, and already the ‘horse trading’ (if you’ll excuse the pun), has begun on just how much of the expected profits from the racing cake each ministerial department and good cause claims for itself. At the last count that adds up to something around 280%!
One sign that this new development is being taken ever so slightly seriously is that Israel’s sports channel, Channel 5, has
purchased the broadcast rights to some key British races and asked 'yours truly' to co-present and commentate on the Oaks and Derby races that will be run at Epsom on June 3 and 4. So, I’ll be back behind the microphone, explaining (in Hebrew) the nuances of the British racing scene, (both the sport and betting), to a doubtless baffled Israeli public who will be wondering why thousands of men have turned up to watch some horses run round a field whilst looking like collective extras from the Ascot Gavotte scene in 'My Fair
Lady’.
The Queen, who is more animated about horse racing then absolutely anything else, owns the favourite for this year’s Derby, Carlton House, a good winner of the Dante Stakes at York last week. She’s been trying to win the Derby for over 60 years and there will be massive media coverage of her latest attempt to break her hoodoo. I understand that Her Majesty recently went along to visit her star racehorse at the stables of her trainer, Sir Michael Stoute, and as usual brought a carrier bag full of chopped carrots for her steed to munch on.
A very nervous groom was holding the half tonne creature while the ‘Jelly Bean’ fed him some of the meticulously prepared vegetables, but one piece fell from the horse’s mouth to the ground. Being unaware of the protocol for such an occurrence, the groom didn’t know whether or not he should pick up the errant ’orangey bit’, and after a slight pause - when no-one moved a muscle - he decided to bend down and pick up the rogue carrot, only to find himself banging heads with The Queen who
had spontaneously decided to pick it up for herself!
There was a reported ‘audible silence’ for a few moments as the groom wondered if he might be whisked off to the Tower, then apparently, The Queen burst out laughing and told the red-faced groom not to worry. She was fine.
Best of luck to the royal runner Carlton House, (7/4 favourite, if you’re interested) who I believe will win and give his owner the thrill of a lifetime.
That’s all for this week. Shalom from Israel.
UPDATE: Carlton House finished third, beaten just two lengths after losing a shoe while challenging for the lead 150 yards form the finish. Israelis - as of August 2013 - are now able to bet on live broadcast of British and Irish racing at local betting cafes/shops.
Singing In The Rain (Blog - 8th October, 2010)
In 1976 we were also 'Singing in the Rain'
Do you remember the long hot summer of 1976? Phew, what a scorcher! It was the longest period without rainfall in British history. Day after day after day of glorious sunshine during the summer holidays was an English schoolboy’s delight. If I wasn’t outside running around with my friends, I was inside cooling off watching the West Indies take on England in the test cricket series, marvelling at Viv Richards and Clive Lloyd swatting the ball to all corners of the ground, whilst our own surly Geoff Boycott played a solid, straight, forward defensive.
French-trained Empery and Lester Piggott had the audacity to win the Epsom Derby, Johnny Miller beat Seve Ballesteros in the Open Championship at Royal Birkdale - and then there was the Montreal Olympics. Nadia Comaneci scored the first ever perfect ten, (the one before Bo Derek), Lasse Viren came down from his mountain top in Finland to win both the 5000 and 10000 metres, ‘White Lightening’ himself, Cuba's Alberto Juantorena, took the 400 and 800 metre titles, and Sugar Ray Leonard was an outstanding champion in the boxing tournament. Happy days indeed.
The unscripted sunshine however took its toll on the Brits. Fresh food prices rocketed, we were all a little ‘hot under the collar’, and then the water ran out. Do you remember the water tankers turning up and having to queue up for your rations, or the standpipe being erected on every street corner? There hadn’t been a drop of the wet stuff since early June.
The day the rains came is one of my most vivid childhood memories. It was towards the end of August and I had walked the two streets from my house to my grandparents’ home, with my younger brother and sister. We were sitting inside when Nana
noticed the skies had darkened. She ran to the lounge window and spotted a few spots of rain and we ran over too to witness the much-missed spectacle. Then the heavens opened and it began to pour. Really heavy rain.
My short, chubby Nana rushed into the hall and grabbed a handful of umbrellas, gave us one each, and then flung the back
door open and ran out onto the grass. We all followed. ‘Dynamic Doris’ (as my Nana was known to some), started belting out ‘Singing In the Rain’, and we three joined in, swishing our umbrellas round in circles and splashing through the water, screaming with delight as she led us up and down the garden path to the cheers of the neighbours who had all rushed out to watch. It was one of the most delightful moments of my childhood.
Here in Israel we have endured one of the hottest summers for many a long year, the heatwave going on unusually long until the middle of this week when the temperatures began to fall a few degrees a day. Light rain showers were predicted for yesterday, but as usual didn’t materialize. Today’s forecast of rain was taken with more than a large pinch of salt.
With another dry winter forecast, the water situation here in the Middle East remains critical. The Sea of Galilee, Israel’s main source of fresh water, is still four metres below the critical line despite serious efforts by the Israeli public to save water both in the home and on the garden. It’s often mooted that the next major war in these parts will be over water, but I reckon other factors might prompt an outbreak of hostilities before that happens. Nonetheless, the parched land reflects a situation which may only be part-remedied when Israel’s massive desalination project comes on line in 2012. The situation remains desperate.
At around noon today my girls Tami and Maya arrived home hot and sticky from school, but within minutes of them coming through the door the skies darkened. Sure enough, the first rains since April started beating down with some force on our roof. Unprompted, the girls ran out onto the lawn and started dancing for joy, taking an open-air shower in the warm tropical style downpour. In the adjacent houses on the street other kids were whooping and hollering for joy as well, doing exactly the same.
Standing at the lounge door, staring out onto the garden with the girls soaking wet and delighted at the arrival of the rain, I drifted back to 1976 and could still see Nana’s little legs flying sideways, (as they allegedly did when she was doing the
Charleston in the 1920’s), with me, my sister and brother, trying to imitate her every move.
As Hall of Fame baseball legend Yogi Berra so famously stated in his inimitable fashion, “It’s like déjà vu all over again”.
French-trained Empery and Lester Piggott had the audacity to win the Epsom Derby, Johnny Miller beat Seve Ballesteros in the Open Championship at Royal Birkdale - and then there was the Montreal Olympics. Nadia Comaneci scored the first ever perfect ten, (the one before Bo Derek), Lasse Viren came down from his mountain top in Finland to win both the 5000 and 10000 metres, ‘White Lightening’ himself, Cuba's Alberto Juantorena, took the 400 and 800 metre titles, and Sugar Ray Leonard was an outstanding champion in the boxing tournament. Happy days indeed.
The unscripted sunshine however took its toll on the Brits. Fresh food prices rocketed, we were all a little ‘hot under the collar’, and then the water ran out. Do you remember the water tankers turning up and having to queue up for your rations, or the standpipe being erected on every street corner? There hadn’t been a drop of the wet stuff since early June.
The day the rains came is one of my most vivid childhood memories. It was towards the end of August and I had walked the two streets from my house to my grandparents’ home, with my younger brother and sister. We were sitting inside when Nana
noticed the skies had darkened. She ran to the lounge window and spotted a few spots of rain and we ran over too to witness the much-missed spectacle. Then the heavens opened and it began to pour. Really heavy rain.
My short, chubby Nana rushed into the hall and grabbed a handful of umbrellas, gave us one each, and then flung the back
door open and ran out onto the grass. We all followed. ‘Dynamic Doris’ (as my Nana was known to some), started belting out ‘Singing In the Rain’, and we three joined in, swishing our umbrellas round in circles and splashing through the water, screaming with delight as she led us up and down the garden path to the cheers of the neighbours who had all rushed out to watch. It was one of the most delightful moments of my childhood.
Here in Israel we have endured one of the hottest summers for many a long year, the heatwave going on unusually long until the middle of this week when the temperatures began to fall a few degrees a day. Light rain showers were predicted for yesterday, but as usual didn’t materialize. Today’s forecast of rain was taken with more than a large pinch of salt.
With another dry winter forecast, the water situation here in the Middle East remains critical. The Sea of Galilee, Israel’s main source of fresh water, is still four metres below the critical line despite serious efforts by the Israeli public to save water both in the home and on the garden. It’s often mooted that the next major war in these parts will be over water, but I reckon other factors might prompt an outbreak of hostilities before that happens. Nonetheless, the parched land reflects a situation which may only be part-remedied when Israel’s massive desalination project comes on line in 2012. The situation remains desperate.
At around noon today my girls Tami and Maya arrived home hot and sticky from school, but within minutes of them coming through the door the skies darkened. Sure enough, the first rains since April started beating down with some force on our roof. Unprompted, the girls ran out onto the lawn and started dancing for joy, taking an open-air shower in the warm tropical style downpour. In the adjacent houses on the street other kids were whooping and hollering for joy as well, doing exactly the same.
Standing at the lounge door, staring out onto the garden with the girls soaking wet and delighted at the arrival of the rain, I drifted back to 1976 and could still see Nana’s little legs flying sideways, (as they allegedly did when she was doing the
Charleston in the 1920’s), with me, my sister and brother, trying to imitate her every move.
As Hall of Fame baseball legend Yogi Berra so famously stated in his inimitable fashion, “It’s like déjà vu all over again”.