12 Signs Of Summer In The Middle East

Yesterday I read Jazzygal's post about her 12 signs of summer. It's full of the things I remember from my childhood - the raspberries growing at the end of the garden, the clean washing flapping in the breeze... One that she didn't mention was the smell for freshly cut grass as the school playing fields were readied for the summer athletics and rounders.

Living in a hotter climate and in a flat to boot, my current signs that summer has arrived are somewhat different.

1. The weather. That's it for rain until October. If we do get a dirty shower after a sand storm and 100 degree heat, we all run outside to squeal with delight and enjoy the unexpected gift. And the green grass of spring slowly disappears leaving a dusty brown landscape.

Washing can be done in the late afternoon, hung out, and still be dry by bedtime. It only takes a couple of hours even for towels. Clean sheets on the beds becomes more frequent - not just because it's all done and dusted in one afternoon and the sheets get dirtier in the summer (sweaty/dusty bodies and no need for pjs and socks) but also because it's so easy when there's no duvet to put into the covers.

I open the windows and leave them open until October. Unless we go away for a few days, in which case I close them to keep out the dust. We have safety bars on the windows so no one can get in.

I find myself showering twice a day... at least.

We don't go out between 10am and 4pm unless we absolutely have to. It's just too hot and besides, everywhere is filled with tourists from cooler climes who don't know any better.

I forget what it feels like to be cold and yet I yearn for it.

2 The lack of clothes and dress code. I get out my summer sandals and wear them every day to go out. Inside it's a pair of cheap flipflops (at 1GBP a go I have several pairs of these). Two cotton cardigans are kept back from the winter storage for when it gets cooler at night. Otherwise it's short sleeved T's, skirts and skimpy dresses. Even jeans are too hot in the summer. All this means that you have to start looking after your feet and shaving your legs again.

3. The beach. I start to dread going to the beach - all that sand that comes home with you and, even though you clean out everything thoroughly, keeps popping up in places you didn't even know you had places. But every time we go to the beach we have fun and DD loves bobbing up and down in the waves with me, running in and out of the surf (I'm talking knee deep, not Bondi Beach surf), and making sandcastles with intricate moat systems to catch and trap the water as it rolls in.

4. Guests. I start blocking off days in August when we will have summer guests visiting. I plan what we could do together and hope the annual (so it seems) summer unrest (read war) won't materialize this year and cause everyone to cancel.

5. Culture innit. We look forward to the Shakespeare In Motion production in the park. Last year it was A Midsummer Night's Dream. They keep it secret until the last minute. I'm hoping for The Taming Of The Shrew (which was my suggestion on the fb poll).

6. Summer food. No more soups or stews. The leftover vegetables at the end of the week are now made into kugels or quiches. The water jugs are permanently filled and in the fridge. Also soda water and washed grapes. Our favourite supper is Salade Nicoise and orange or apple juice spritzers made with juice and soda water.

7. Weddings. It's wedding season. I've reached the age when my friends children are getting married. Apart from it being pleasant to get married in the summer and party outdoors, most of my friends have family who want to come from abroad. A summer wedding is most convenient for everyone. I have two wedding invitations so far for this summer.

8. Camping. I start thinking up excuses to avoid the inevitable annual camping trip. But how can I do that to DD? She loved it last year.

9. Long days. There are suddenly more hours in the day. It starts earlier (with less effort) and finishes way into the night. Children are out playing until 10pm or later. The clocks might be one hour forward for summertime but our social life jumps about threee hours ahead. The neighbourhood is noisier but happier and safer, as there are more people out on the streets.

10. The pool. Swimming lessons start again for DD. We buy a season ticket to the local pool and set up camp for the duration. It's like a whole community that hybernated for the winter wakes up and lives together again sitting on deckchairs and eating out of lock&lock boxes. We support each other by taking turns to catch the younger children as they come off the water slide.

11. Giving up on routine. I find that we start to get lazy about homework (which still gets done but not until later), meals (more and more it's a picnic supper at the coffee table), bedtimes (whenever), housework (whenever), reading practice (when was the last time DD read to me in English?), everything really. The older school kids have long since given up trying to learn anything new and the teachers don't seem to push it. It's the summer, we'll deal with it all in October.

12. The lightness of being. People are happier and more relaxed. The pace of life slows down even though we do more. And even though I hate the heat outside, I find myself singing as I go about my day.

What are your signs of summer? 

Whatever Happened To April?

This blog needs a kick-start. It always happens in April. We go to England for our yearly visit and I get lost between living out of the suitcase, catching up with old friends, the Pesach (Passover) chaos, and 52 episodes of Escape to the Country recorded by my mum.

And as happy as I am to get back home to our own wardrobes, current friends, and a regular routine; I find myself hitting the ground crawling. It takes me several weeks to get back into the swing of things, including blogging.

Meanwhile the blog stats are falling and my TOTS100 fell by about 40 places - taking it into the vague "top 500" rather than the badge announcing my actual and personal rank. However, this was just the challenge I need to get my mojo moving.

For a gentle start, here are some of the things we got up to in England over Pesach:

We made friends at the Natural History Museum.

We liked it so much we bought the book.

We escaped to the country ourselves but just for a horse ride. I didn't buy a cottage with outhouses to convert into holiday lets (this time).

We went to the farm and fed the cows

And the sheep who looked positively Biblical in their barn complete with a manger and little lambs.

We made daisy chains in the park. 

We also love the exercise equipment, far better than the swings and slides.

The adventure playground is fab though.

We had fun with our cousins. This is the big one.

We played with the old train set. 

We enjoyed staying at Grandma and Grandpa's.

Best of all, on our return I found that you can watch hundreds of episodes of Escape to the Country on You Tube. :~)

Pre-Pesach Leftovers Recipe

At Pesach time we run down all the food we have in the house. You can keep sealed packets and frozen stuff but I like to use up all the open packets. We start using things up a few weeks before and it's a nice feeling to know that all the storage jars get washed out at least once a year. :~)

What do you think these are?

They are everything I had opened in jars in my food cupboard, fridge and freezer, made into rissoles and a kugel.

2 cups of polenta
1 1/2 cups of red lentils (soaked)
1 cup or orzo (cooked)
1/2 cup of  porridge oats
1 onion chopped
Half a bag of frozen broccoli
1/4 bag frozen spinach
About 100g of butter
Some cooking oil
Salt
pepper
curry powder
2 eggs
2 cups of milk

Saute the onion in the butter, cook the orzo, cook the broccoli, thaw the spinach and drain, mix it all together.

Pour into a well oiled dish and bake for about an hour until done for the kugel. Here is the kugel. Cut it into squares and serve with salad.

Make the leftover mixture into small patties and fry. Also serve with a salad, with or without ketchup.

Homemade Falafel

Homemade Falafel Burgers

Falafel is a national dish in Israel. It was always a traditional Arab food and still is in Egypt and other Arab countries but there it is more likely to be made from fava beans. In Israel they use chickpeas. Yemenite Jewish immigrants started the tradition of stuffing the falafel into a pitta pocket (or wrapping it in a bigger laffa) with salad humus, pickles and chips. 

This portable snack can be picked up on the streets in Israel the way you pick up a hot dog in NYC or a slice of pizza. It is the Israeli equivalent to the UK's fish and chips and you'll find several falafel shops along every high street here.

I have a big jar of dried chickpeas

The traditional Israeli falafel is dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and ground (processed today) and mixed with onion, garlic, parsley, coriander, cumin, salt & pepper, and a bit of flour to assist the binding. The resulting paste is then rolled into balls and fried. No eggs, this is totally vegan. With the pitta and salad it's a whole vegan meal.

The first time I tried making it I made the mistake of cooking the chickpeas before I made the falafel paste. This is totally unnecessary unless you prefer a more mashed-potato type consistancy to your falafel.

In recent years 'designer' falafel has emerged - curry flavour, green (more green herbs), lemon-garlic, sweet and sour, hot and spicey... You can add anything you like. I like to put some tehina paste in mine because my food processor isn't strong enough to really grind the chickpeas so the tehina gives it a bit more moisture.

In the pan

People don't tend to make their own falafel as it's so easy and cheap to buy. However I was tempted by a big bag of powdered falafel mix in the supermarket (just add water) before I opted for the dried chick peas.

I also opted to make bigger, burger sized, falafel rather than the more commonly sized balls. That way I'm more likely to eat them on a plate with my salad than with the unnecessary pitta. And I find I eat less when they are bigger. I could easily eat 7 - 8 small falafel balls whereas I'll only have two falafel burgers that are the size of about three balls. And you can't just pop one extra into your mouth every time you pass the plate.

You can google falafel recipes if you need exact amounts but I prefer to be creative and add whatever I have to hand.

All That Glisters...

Eleven years ago I went with three friends to Paris for four days. Four friends from primary school spending four days in Paris to celebrate our 40th birthdays.

We had come from all over - Jerusalem, Los Angeles, London, and Brighton. So on the last day we all split up at different times to go our various ways. I was rushing back to the hotel where I had booked a taxi to take me to the airport. I was rushing and collecting conkers along the way (it was September) when an old tramp stopped me.

He asked for money and started waving a ring about, showing me the hallmark and miming about how heavy the gold was. I was seriously in a hurry by this time, I didn't care about the ring - I wasn't sure what he was going to do with it anyway. I certainly wasn't going to buy it from him. I opened my purse. I had a 50 Euro note for the taxi and 3 Euros in coins. I gave him the 3 Euros - it was a sort of 'Thank you Paris' for showing us a good time as well as a small act of charity but mostly it was just the quickest way to shake him off and move on. The tramp dropped the ring into my hand and left. He didn't seem at all bothered about the fact that I'd only given him 3 Euros for it.

I kept the ring. It was a large man's wedding band. Far too big for even my thumb. About three years later I had an insurance assessor come to value my house contents and I threw the ring in with some other jewellery. The insurance man valued it at 3,000 shekels (500 GBP)!

I never told anyone this story as I'd felt a bit guilty about taking a gold ring from a poor tramp. Now that I knew it was worth 3,000 shekels I was even more uneasy about it. Not so uneasy as to cash it in and give the money to charity though.

A few weeks ago a friend told me about a shop in Jerusalem where they buy gold. So this week, after my mega decluttering efforts, I took the ring downtown to sell it. I was already thinking about next month's mortgage being taken care of as I handed over my heavy band of gold to the jeweller.

He was instantly confused. What colour gold is that? He examined it, hallmark and all, and declared it to be brass. And it's worth nothing.

Now I'm wondering what to do with my big brass ring. Here are the options:

1. Make it into a doorknob. (Too small)
2. A napkin holder for elves. (We don't know any elves.)
3. Wear it on a chain around my neck as a reminder of some deep and meaningful significance that this whole episode has taught me. (Not my style)
4. Hang it on the wall and polish it occasionally. (Isn't that what people do with brass?)
5. Take some thin paper and some charcoal and do a brass rubbing. (Or can you only do that in ancient churches?)

Any ideas?

A Week From The Store Cupboard

Everyone here is winding down their store cupboards before Pesach when we eat special foods and nothing from the previous weeks. We are going away and I would like to not spend any more money this March. So for this week we will be living out of the store cupboard, fridge and freezer. No buying any more food until we leave (when I may have to pick up some things for the journey).

I last went shopping on Monday. We have firm (and 3 overripe) tomatoes, cucumbers, and a small cabbage, 4 avocados, about 12 small potatoes and some onions. 6 oranges and 2 apples. One litre of milk (or slightly less actually), 200g of butter, 2 tubs of tomato puree, 9 eggs, about 300g of cheese, 2 x 250g tubs of cottage cheese, an assortment of frozen vegetables, one block of tofu, 4 frozen corn and tofu shnitzels and a full bag of frozen vegetarian sausages, a big box of cornflakes, 7 pittas in the freezer, 4 jars of pasta sauce, 2 tins of tuna, and unlimited dry groceries (oats, pasta, lentils, sugar, etc...).

Here are my cupcakes. There are chocolate-chips inside.
(I know you know what cupcakes look like.)

I just used 2 eggs and 150g of butter (and flour, sugar, etc) to make 30 mini choc-chip cupcakes. DD will take one of these to school with half a pitta and cheese every day for breakfast which they have at 9.40. She then gets a homemade (by the afternoon program lady) meal of meat or fish with a carb and vegetables for lunch.

I have coffee for breakfast and leftovers for lunch, and I am dieting.

Today (Friday) - It's already 4.30 and for supper tonight we will have tomato and lentil soup (made with the onions, overripe tomatos, tom puree, and lentils), roast potatoes, avocado/tom/cuc salad, and 2 corn shnitzels (DD).

Saturday morning - Me: Coffee, DD: cornflakes, cupcake, apple juice, an apple and an orange (whatever she wants from that selection).

Saturday lunch - Cabbage salad, Tomato/cucumber salad, potato latkes and cottage cheese, cooked green soy beans (endamame?).

Saturday evening - Soup, homemade felafel and salad.

Sunday (a school day) supper - pasta and pasta sauce from the freezer, salad, cottage cheese (DD prefers the cottage cheese to the pasta sauce). Fruit for desert (apple and orange).

Monday supper - stirfry vegetables and tofu with ptitim (orzo), salad, cottage cheese. An orange

Tuesday supper -  Tuna salad in pitta, salad, roast ptotatos (I dice the potatoes into small cubes and they take 20 minutes in a hot oven with a bit of oil and salt). An orange.

Wednesday supper - Soup made from all leftover vegetables, vegetarian sausages, roast potatoes, salad. An orange.

Thursday supper - Leftover soup with any open pasta or orzo, salad, 2 corn shnitzels (DD).

Friday brunch - Vegetarian sausages, roast ptotatoes, salad (DD), Soup and omelet with cheese and onion (Me).

For the journey - Tuna salad in pitta. Cupcakes. I will buy some crisps for DD, and a couple of apples - we'll be in London by dinnertime.

Not very adventurous or exciting - I could make vegetarian shepherd's pie with a lentil 'meat' bottom layer, or tuna potato cakes, pancakes and silan, a potato or vegetable kugel, but there's no point because DD likes nothing better than her salad, some 'chips' and some cottage cheese for supper.

Let's see if I can manage this. I'll let you know on Thursday.

So Am I Israeli Really?

Yesterday I learned that I am not really an Israeli and I learned that I am half of Israel and I learned that I am Israeli.

It was election day and a bank holiday. For a country that doesn't have Sundays off (we have Fridays off but the children have morning school and everything else closes at 2pm) it was a chance to have a real family day out. It seems the two preferred activities were shopping or hiking/picnicking.

The formidable cave

I wrote last week about how Israelis have an obsession with hiking. I also wrote about how DD hated her class trip which was inevitably a hike.

A group of friends asked us to join them on a hike and picnic. I said I'd have to consult with DD. I was confident that she'd decline and I'd have my out. I love walking in the English countryside where the paths are smooth and the hills are rolling. Here, however, the paths are rocky and the hills are mountains.

Unfortunately DD was all for it. I couldn't deny her the opportunity for a day out with friends and a picnic so I reluctantly agreed to go. I'd also followed the conversation on whatsapp and had seen them come down from a serious mountain climbing expedition to a more  moderate trek. We are a group of five, overweight, middle aged, women - and yet four of them wanted a seriously challenging hike. This is where the immigrant sticks out from the Israelis.

I admit it was pretty at the top (or half way to the top)

Before we went I had to vote. This election was extrememly emotive. People voting for Bibi on the Right felt they had no choice but to put national security first even thought there are gaping social injustices that need fixing and the Left were promising to address these problems.

People on the Left accused the Right of not caring about the poor, infirm, and downtrodden. They also believe that actually, Bibi's security policies are more dangerous than re-entering peace talks with the PA.

There was the issue of the Right aligning themselves with the ultra-orthodox community who contribute nothing to the country but aren't shy about receiving all the benefits going and then demanding more. There was the issue of Bibi himself who doesn't invite people to love him with his arrogance and wanton spending of public money on his own personal comfort.

And there were all the smaller parties some of whom were inspiring but, if they passed the votes threshhold and gained a seat in the government, would have to compromise on all their principles to be included in the ruling coalition so what is the point of voting for them.

I had seen how fiercely my hiking friends 'knew' who you 'should' vote for and who it was 'wrong' to vote for. I decided to keep my ballot a secret. I, along with 20% of voters, were undecided right up to the last minute. I did not need approval or lectures either way. If there was one 100% correct way to go we wouldn't need elections. I made sure DD didn't see which slip I put into the envelope because she can read now and I didn't want her telling them under interrogation by accident.

We packed our lunch and went round to my friend who was driving. She was irritated with me because I had nixed the idea of a joint picnic. She had asked if we should organise a joint picnic and I answered that I'd prefer not to. I don't enjoy eating outside, sitting on the floor so all we need is a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water (and a packet of crisps for DD). Two others said, 'ok,' and that was the end of the discussion. I didn't realize I'd cancelled a big part of the overall experience. And then I got told off for not making more of an effort to enjoy hiking. (Those of you who hate brussel sprouts or heavy metal music - just make more of an effort, eh?).

Deceptively gentle

We, five families, met up at Nes Harim just outside Jerusalem. We set off along a rock strewn path. I'm sure the scenery was lovely but I was too busy concentrating on avoiding the rocks and watching my step to appreciate it. This is what you typically hear on an Israeli hiking trail: "Come on sweetie (to a toddler who can barely walk), climb the mountain with Grandma and Grandpa, isn't this fun?"

Then we climbed up a steep(ish) incline to some caves. During the whole ascent all I could think about was that we would have to come down again. I'm fine climbing up. You can't fall up. I am scared climbing down. The children disappeared inside the caves. I was nervous about getting back down the mountain. I was nervous about my daughter being inside a cave (it was only an overhanging rock really but it was dark and I couldn't see her). I admit there was a pretty view.

We stopped to rest, eat, chat, play. Then I saw there was another steep(ish) ascent. I was fine with this but the route was circular and who knew what climbing down the other side looked like. I decided to go back. The others offered to take DD on with them but she opted to come back with me. All the way down she was trying to help me with a steady flow of supportive commentary:

I'll help you Mummy.
You don't have to be scared of rocks, they can't hurt you.
I'll carry the bag.
Just stop thinking about the rocks, think about a nice cup of coffee instead.
I love you Mummy, you're the best.
We're nearly down now so just get those rocks out of your head!
Phew, we're nearly home, aren't you happy about that?

When we got back to the meeting point we found an ice-cream van (one happy daughter). Then we spent two hours eating our picnic, playing word games and on the playground equipment. It was nice. We're good company. And the relief of not worrying about the climb down made me all giggly and dizzy with happiness.

All I could think about was climbing down again

The others eventually arrived. First came the fittest mothers with all the children. About 20 minutes later the other two mothers huffed and puffed to the end. Red faced and sweaty they exclaimed, "it was so much fun, you were so silly to go back. The descent was much more gentle than the ascent."

The hike was a confirming experience for me. It confirmed that I don't enjoy hiking in Israel and I won't be doing it again.

And what of the elections? It turns out that more people are more scared of being killed by terrorists than they are of dying of starvation so Bibi won.

Emotions are still running high. Facebook and emails are flying about how depressed and incredulous the Left are that people don't want change. While the Right answer them that they do want change but they first need to be alive to enjoy social equality. And the Left didn't help themselves by basing their whole campaign on the slogan: Anything but Bibi.

I understand both sides. People have different realities. It's a small country but some people are living under immediate physical threat near the borders whereas others are concentrating on social inequalities. Some are looking at the bigger picture of eventual peace in the region while others need to know that they will be protected tomorrow.

My (secret) vote reflects roughly half of Israel. I hate rock-climbing hikes. Je suis Israeli.