Irish plenty

My wife and I just returned from a wonderful trip to Ireland.  In the first of two posts, I wish to note those elements that distinguished Ireland, in both senses of that verb.

Ireland has plenty of water. Many countries are blessed (or cursed) with plentiful rain, but few as much as Ireland.  In fact, until a few years ago, water was actually free. The government had to start charging for water use as the pipe system needs to be replaced, so we were told.  Many people resent having to pay for water, even the minimal amount.  I suppose that the employees of the Israeli Electric Company feel the same about having to pay for electricity. It just shows how easy it is to get used to the good life.

Ireland has plenty of new Irish.  While in Israel immigrants are referred by their country of origin, i.e. Ethiopians, Russians, and Albanians, to name a few, the Irish have their new Irish residents, many of which take on citizenship.  Compared to its base population, a large amount has arrived on the Emerald Island to work since Ireland joined the EU.  One the one hand, now not all the Irish look “Irish”, which also can be said in most if not all European countries today.  On other hand, Dublin’s pubs and restaurant would close without its recent arrivals. It is almost impossible to find an Irish waiter or waitress in Dublin. By contrast, in the West, in Galway, most of the servers were actually Irish.

Ireland has plenty of cows and sheep. Due to its low population density and copious rain, healthy grass abounds.  The cows and sheep spend all summer outside eating fresh grass and look wonderfully healthy and happy. Their Middle Eastern cousins would die of envy.  The choice of cattle or sheep was a sure way to judge the quality of the land in any specific place.  We were in many places that reminded me of New Zealand - much more sheep than people.

Ireland has many stone fences.  Of course, it has many stones.  Still, these fences tell a rich history.  The skill of their builders is reflected in the fact that they stand for hundreds of years.  Some are constructed with the rocks placed horizontally, with holes to allow the wind to pass by. Others use vertically placed stones for reasons that are unclear to me.  Some randomly go up hills, built by starving Irish during the Great Famine upon instruction by the landowners to “justify” the meager food given to them. Ireland is truly fenced in.

Ireland has many uncomfortable chairs.  They come on all sizes and shapes.  Many are bar stools of varying heights, without or without back or hand rests.  Others are Louis XIV chairs with beautiful colors but collapsed bottoms. Some are wooden with angles designed to promote chiropractors.  A comfortable chair is hard to fine.

Ireland has many free museums. It is amazing to visit a modern museum and not pay anything for its maintenance.  Even if there is an entry fee, as for the castles, it is not significant. Culture is truly important.

Ireland has many bookstores.  This temple of culture, disappearing in many countries, is thriving in Ireland.  I had simply forgotten how fun it is to stroll through book stores, finding endless books that I want to buy.  Unfortunately for me, I did not have any room for such purchases. So, I painfully limited myself to the purchase of one paperback book for the flight back. 

Ireland has plenty of weather. I had the impression that it changes every five minutes. This moment’s rain or sun had nothing to do with the actual weather in fifteen minutes. I watched with the amusement as the weather forecasters spoke for two minutes, showed maps with winds and pressure settings, and then admitted that the weather was uncertain for tomorrow. Ireland, unlike Israel, has both weather and climate.

Ireland has plenty of women in tights, to paraphrase Mel Brooks. In almost complete disregard for the weather, countless women walk around in short skirts and stockings.  Some of them have the legs for this fashion while others don’t.  Regardless, I hadn’t seen such presentation of legs in a long time.

Finally, Ireland has many nice people. As one of my guides said, God gave us plenty of time. The Irish take it and enjoy life.  The pleasantness goes beyond formal politeness. It is genuine and strongly flavored by a sharp of sense of humor. It is probably the plenty that makes Ireland such a pleasant place to visit.

(Part II of this post will appear in a week or so.)

Summer Dreams and Nightmares

Students and teachers are often sure that the best season of the year is the summer. The former believe so because they can sleep late and not go to school while the latter get paid of doing nothing, at least in theory.  Yet, for some parents, summer vacation is a three month period of service as entertainment director, ATM and community police officer.  No wonder, most parents view September 1 as the real independence day.

Geography also plays a part in seasonal feelings.  Residents of countries in the far northern and southern hemispheres, such as the Scandinavian countries, as well as those with long rainy winters, notably Oregon and Washington where I lived, long for the bright sun of long summer days. Such people spend every possible minute outside soaking in the rays.  By contrast, in Israel, where I live now, and other hot places, the summer means that you can only be outside for a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the evening due to the grueling temperatures.  Like those suffering parents, we long for the coming of the autumn, when air conditioning and three showers a day are no longer necessary.

Sentiment regarding to the summer is also affected by one’s profession.  To work year round, a person would have to be both a ski instructor and life guard.  Farmers and hotels make hay in the summer, sometimes literally.  By contrast, all that coat and boot producers can do is hope for a cool fall and winter.  Firefighters must have similar feelings.

Age confuses the issue.  Almost nobody remembers being too hot as a child.  Whether this lack of recollection is because summers were less hot, people’s memory are short or kids don’t suffer from weather, I don’t know.  By contrast, the older we get, the more the temperature seems to affect us, both cold and heat.  This sensitivity is quite sad, but apparently unavoidable.

Finally, there are those for whom it makes no difference.  People with jobs in malls and offices exist in controlled temperatures whose work load is basically unaffected by the outside world.   This is the exact opposite of police in the street and construction people of any kind, who are intimate with their daily weather.

So, if beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, so is our perception of the summer.

Pesach is coming (run for your lives)

For Jews everywhere including in Israel, Pesach (Passover)  is a unifying holiday.  Jews of all strides celebrate it, from atheists to ultra-orthodox, albeit with significant differences of style and length.  As in most important events, the events with the most impact, at least emotionally, are before the actual occasion.  The week before Pesach is a curious play on the words said on Pesach eve: עבדים היינו [avadim hahnhnu] , once we were slaves:

Grocery store employees spend hours rearranging shelves and putting paper over the sections with foods that are  חמץ [hametz], forbidden to eat during Pesach.

Women spend a whole week doing a comprehensive spring cleaning of the house while trying to keep up on their other chores and of course, go to work.

Family members spend hours waiting in line in stores to buy the various items required for the Pesach meal.  The most dreaded sound is that last call on the morning of the Pesach when “she” suddenly remembers that some vital product is missing or discovers that she ran out of something. Husbands now have no excuses to postpone household repairs.  The dreaded day to tackle the long list of minor but time-consuming maintenance tasks has arrived.  Cleaning the house suddenly seems quite attractive.

The females have the standard issue of deciding and maybe purchasing new clothing for the holiday.  At least half of the population will understand how stressful that can be.  Religious Jews that can afford it buy clothes for the entire family.  Now that is an interesting family activity.

Generational arguments break out regarding the mythical quality of the grandmother’s cleaning and/or cooking, the choice to serve any of those ethnically-allowed foods such as rice and, often the most destructive, with whom the married son or daughter will spend the first night, with us or them, the in-laws (who have no idea how to properly make gefilte fish).

Everybody gets to complain about the weather.  If it is cold, it doesn’t feel like the spring.  If it rains, it makes it impossible to put the furniture in the garden when cleaning.  If it is windy, it redistributes the dust that you just supposedly cleaned.  If it is nice, you complain about what you would rather be doing on such a beautiful day.  Successful bitching is guaranteed.

The people working in retail not only put extra hours to meet the exaggerated demands of the Israeli consumer but are expected to prepare a proper Pesach and smile that evening.

Even those who are so fortunate to go to someone else’s house have the difficult task of finding an appropriate gift.  Of course, you cannot arrive with empty hands.  The pleasure begins even before you arrive because finding a parking spot at a shopping mall can be finding a needle in the haystack. Once you do, you have to think of a gift that the host does not have too many of already, would be appreciated and costs the appropriate amount. 

The fun reaches its peak in the hours before the Sedar.  The whole family gets to participate in the great shower wars, involving how much hot water each member of the family uses, obviously at the expense of the others.  Then, for those who are travelling, the whole happy family gets into the car and joins the countless others in a giant traffic jam, everybody hoping to the Sedar on time.

However, once the first cup of wine is drunk, all that is forgotten.  People smile and say חג שמח וכשר [hag sameach ve kasher], a happy and kosher holiday.  It was all worth it.

September Dreaming

As the first of September approaches, young and old cannot feel neutral about the new moon.  The actual events of the month differ from place to place but it cannot be denied that change is acoming, to paraphrase Bob Dylan.

In the United States, Labor Day marks the official end of the summer.  After this holiday, salvation or hell is coming, depending on which side of the parent-child duo you are, as students of all ages go back to school.  It also means the approaching end of the summer heat, to be replaced by the cool but pleasant weather of the fall.  Hikers and garden owners will soon get to experience the changing of colors of the leaves and their covering on the ground, albeit with different reactions, at least in the Northeast and Northwest.  Another result of the change of weather is the opportunity to wear the beloved sweater that has been buried, undesired, in the closet for many months.  For those who bought new boots on sale at the end of the last season, it is now time to show them off.  In the Pacific Northwest at least, the hunters and fishermen start planning their “campaigns”.  Most of this is in the future, but anticipation is biggest part of pleasure. In terms of spectator sports, (American) football fans fully wake up from their hibernation, with everybody allowed, for the moment, the illusion that his or her team really can win the Super Bowl.  By contrast, baseball fans go to completely meaningful or meaningless games, depending on the standings.

In Israel, September, the Hebrew months of Alul and Tishrei, it is also a time of change.  Like in the United States, children from nursery school to high school start the school year.  However, most curiously, this is only a dress rehearsal for the school year since once the “holidays” hit, i.e. Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot, they get another extended vacation.  Because the Jewish calendar is lunar, the actual Gregorian date, but not the Hebrew day, of the holidays wanders a bit, with Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, occurring somewhere between early to late September.  This is quite meaningful for university students since university studies, logically in my mind, begin after Sukkot, meaning sometime between the end of September to close to the end of October.  This year for example, it begins on October 26 at the college where I work.  In terms of the weather, September brings with it the infamous “hamsin”, 50 in Arabic, referring to those horrible hot eastern desert winds that take your breath away.  By law or tradition, on Yom Kippur, a day of avoiding intake of food and beverages, it must be hot and miserable to add to the suffering. Those of faith would say this suffering brings you closer to God.  Curiously, it is also tradition, clearly not as dependable, that it must rain on Sukkot.  I regret to say that the last year’s Sukkot shower only succeeded in getting everything wet but failed to secure a good rainfall for the winter.  Religious people invest in mitzvot, good deeds, like taxpayers invest in December, since their fate for the upcoming year is in the balance until Yom Kippur.  By contrast, non-religious people merely worry about surviving the numerous family feasts and the cost of keeping the children busy during Sukkot. In regards to getting out those winter clothes, there are at least two months to wait.  As Tom Jones might say, change is the air.

So, September is the transition month from summer to fall.  If you have any local September traditions, I would love to hear about them.

The Weather of My Life

As a stereotypical wandering Jew, I have been privileged to experience many types and descriptions of weather in my life.  On a linguistic note, the most interesting aspect is the terminology or lack thereof describing them.  I present a brief autobiographical weather tour.

I grew up in L.A., a city loved by many but not by me.  In LA, in the sixties, we had the famous Sig Alert, a measurement of smog, a wonderful American combination in itself of smoke and fog.  As I recall, at Sig 1, it was recommended that people with breathing problems stay home; At Sig 2, the schools were closed; at Sig 3, factories were closed.  I understand that pollution SIGgy days no longer occur in LA or they just don’t report them.

I lived in Paris for six months.  Maybe because I was young, I don’t remember anybody talking about the weather at all.  Apparently, they were too busy talking about the latest restaurant or the previous/next vacation.  There is something to be said for this approach.

I then moved to Oregon.  The Pacific Northwest, western Oregon and Washington, offers a long list of jokes about the climate: it rains twice a year, from January to June and June to January and Oregonians don’t tan, they rust, to name a few.  In reality, a good year is three months without rain while a bad year is one month without rain.  Granted, generally the rain is not strong, closely resembling a permanent drizzle.  Similar to the Japanese approach to describing a short person, avoidance, i.e. the person next to the tall man, Oregonians talk about the sun, not the rain: There may be sun today or No chance of the sun breaking through today.  This is an example of reference by ignoring.

I now live in Israel, where rain is a blessing and reason for a blessing.  In fact, interestingly, there are words to describe the first and last rain of the season, יורה [yoreh] and מלקוש [malkosh], respectively.  At this moment, I am enjoying a late version of the latter on Shevuot, rendering me a bit sad that I won’t hear the sound of rain drops until October or November.  Alas, instead we will have חמסין [hamsine], an Arabic word meaning 50, or שרב [sharav], the Hebrew word referring to days with a hot, eastern desert wind, which sucks out all of the oxygen and drives everybody crazy.  This phenomenon is more common worldwide, called the Santa Ana winds in L.A. for example.  Yet, it does have a special word locally.

So, if you have a unique weather term in your part of the world, let me know.  I will be happy to share it.

A Tempest in a Teacup

The word “exotic” can be defined as that what is extraordinary.  For example, blonds are exotic in the Middle East but quite commonplace in Scandinavia.  When a phenomenon is exotic, it creates problems of description.  While the dictionary literally translates words from language to languages, the phenomenon they describe can in practice vary, as in the example of weather.

Rain in some quantity is essentially a global event experienced by basically all cultures.  So, the word storm exists in all languages. However, it means different things to different people.  I lived in (Western) Oregon, home of such classic jokes as “It rains twice a year, from January to June and June to January” and “Oregonians don’t tan; they rust” (To be fair, the same jokes are made about the northern half of the Pacific Northwest, Washington state).  If the weather forecaster mentioned a storm, it had to be more than the usual constant piss outside, something with high winds and torrential rain.  There was no purpose in saying there was a storm outside to describe the constant fall of water particles typical of nine months of the year (in a good year).  I imagine that the British also can relate to this.   By contrast, in the arid Middle East, a storm is anything more than a half a day of rain.  A whole slew of experts appear on television to advise the public how to prepare for the event, each and every millimeter of rain, in terms of dressing children, driving precautions, and staying healthy.  Two days later, the whole nation joyfully listens how the Kinneret (the Sea of Galilee) went up such and such millimeters and is this far from the red line.  The only real damage is a few more car accidents than usual and a few low lying areas get flooded (as they do every year due to non-existent drainage).  However, you have to watch out for that storm.

In contrast, there is the wonderful term heat wave.  In northern Europe and parts of the United States, a heat wave is anything beyond 30° C (86° F) for more than three days.  The main reason for this panic is the lack of air circulation within the cramped cities, air conditioners, ice, or any other means of getting cool, and general knowledge of how to react to heat.  Hundreds people in Europe actually died during a recent wave there.  In the Middle East, this is not a heat wave; it is the climate.  From May until October, the temperature is over 30° C, often even at night, not taking account high humidity in the coastal areas, an added pleasure as any New Yorker would know.  A heat wave, like we are having now, is a week of over 104° with some added high humidity.  Now that is suffering, as we say as we sit in our air-conditioned cars, offices, and houses.

On a final note, I once asked a group of newly-arrived immigrants from the former Soviet Union what temperature they considered cold.  Apparently, most of them came from the Siberia region as their consensus was -30° C (-22° F).  They said that -20° C (-4° F) was quite tolerable.  To paraphrase Alice, a word means what I want it to mean.