Jerusalem Post, Billbard; March 9, 2007
Jerusalem hosts the third pub in the ambitious Dublin chain
In a country where pubs have a shelf-life of about two years, entrepreneurs need a lot of guts to sign a 14-year lease. But when Gily Zabary and his partner Zion Lahav opened their third Dublin outlet - in the center of Jerusalem - they didn't intend to build a mere Irish pub, but an institution.
'There are pubs in Ireland that date back 800 years,' Zabary explains. He fell in love with Irish pubs during his travels to Dublin, the home of Guinness. 'I was amazed to see that people aged 40 and 50 hung out with 20- and 30-year-olds. What unites them is the beer.'
Surprisingly, Zabary doesn't have any Irish roots, and looks more Sephardic than European. Born to a Yemenite father and a German mother, he brought the warmth of the East and the exactness of the German Ashkenazim to his establishments.
Before building the first Dublin pub in his native Rehovot five years ago, Zabary worked for several months as a bartender in Ireland - a self-imposed internship. A second Dublin pub made its home in Herzliya two years ago, and Jerusalem became the next logical location. The capital, Zabary says, is the third-largest market for draft beer in Israel, behind Rehovot and Haifa.
It should be clear to anyone who walks into Dublin that the pub wasn't built as a passing fancy; a million-dollar investment made sure of that. Dublin's over-done design - high Gothic ceilings, thick wooden furniture, authentic Irish chandeliers and ornate stained glass - is more reminiscent of a flamboyant Disneyland ride than a cozy Irish pub. Sitting areas are divided into two categories: the knights' table for groups and 'snugs' for intimate encounters. No two dining areas are the same, so visitors can experience the pub differently every time.
Dublin is the kind of place where middle-aged couples can munch on finger food and throw back whiskey shots alongside 22-year-old guys mustering the courage required to approach a girl. To appeal to older crowds and reduce the smoky, 'pick-up' bar feel, the owners have invested NIS 400,000 in a smoke ventilation system, so bargoers don't leave for home with the scent of cigarette ashes on their clothes.
That Dublin has chosen to plaster ads on Egged buses demonstrates its broad market: everyone is invited - rich, poor, young and old. The only thing in which Dublin customers cannot be pedestrian is their taste in beer. Carlsberg and Heineken aren't considered respectable options at Dublin.
Beer consumption is a culture in Ireland, Zabary explains, with the many Irishmen drinking 15 pints a day. To boost the beer culture in Israel, Zabary focused on beer variety and professional preparation and presentation.
Beer kegs aren't located under the bar, as in most Israeli drinking establishments, but in a special refrigerated 'beer cellar' built to European standards. The beer reaches the taps through an elaborate system of underground pipes. The custom-made beer glasses are washed in a separate dishwasher to make sure they don't get contaminated with oil, milk or eggs, which can ruin the flavor and texture.
Dublin serves 18 kinds of beer on tap, some of them fruit-flavored. During off-hours, bartenders may offer samples in miniature two-inch mugs.
'The phrase 'beer is too bitter for me' no longer applies in Israel,' says Zabary. 'Israelis used to say that because they didn't know anything else.'
Dublin, Shamai 4, (02) 622-3612, Hours: daily from 5 p.m. - 3 a.m., Friday until 5 a.m. Musical line-up: Sunday: Eighties' Israeli music; Monday: Israeli and cover bands; Tuesday: Irish bands; Weekends: DJ Freestyle
Friday, March 9, 2007
Beyond belief
Jerusalem Post, In Jerusalem; March 9, 2007
Click here for original
For many disillusioned haredim leaving their close-knit community is like moving to a foreign country.
'Who wants to make kiddush?' a long-haired man asks at the Friday night table, holding a kiddush cup.
There seem to be no takers, so he begins himself to say the blessing but stops somewhere in the middle when he realizes no one is really paying attention. 'Yalla!' he says, dismissively, cutting the kiddush short while everyone proceeds to eat the three-course, buffet-style Shabbat meal.
Once skipping kiddush would have been a sacrilege for almost everyone around the table. These days, making the choice is its own blessing. The men and women sitting at the table are all former haredim who broke out of their dogmatic, strict confines, on pain of excommunication, poverty and loneliness, to live in a world in which they can choose how to live.
For some, this kind of gathering is the closest they get to feeling like part of a family, says Rina Ofir, director of Hillel, a non-profit organization that helps former haredim adjust to mainstream, pluralistic Israeli life. 'They don't really have the chance to go to home on Friday nights.'
Most haredi defectors are immediately ejected from their homes once they appear at the family doorstep without peyot (sidelocks) or, in the case of women, without a modest skirt.
Two years ago, Hillel made communal Friday night dinners a tradition, alternating weekly between its Tel Aviv and Jerusalem branches. 'It's important for them to be together, for the food as well - for some of them it's their only real meal because they eat here and there and don't really have money,' explains Ofir.
Leaving haredi communities to join mainstream Israeli society is for many like moving to a foreign country. It entails learning a new language (particularly English, but in some cases also spoken Hebrew), internalizing modern codes of dress and behavior, creating a social framework and securing housing and employment.
Some haredi communities can be likened to Yiddish-speaking Eastern European shtetls - minus the cold weather and with modern appliances. 'Yotzim define themselves as new immigrants,' says Ofir, referring to haredi defectors who are commonly called yotzim b'she'ela ('going out to question,' a pun on hozrim b'teshuva, the Hebrew term for those returning to religion).
Despite these difficulties, the number of newly secular is apparently increasing, judging from last year's hike in inquiries to Hillel's open line. The proliferation of the Internet has made access to secular worldviews more readily available to haredim via their computers or cellphones. Many yotzim and prospective yotzim congregate digitally on the popular chat forum 'yotzim b'she'ela' on the Tapuz Web site portal. This is one reason, says Ofir, why some haredi community leaders are beginning to outlaw Internet use.
'It's important for us to state that we are not missionaries,' she clarifies. 'We work with those who choose to leave the haredi community. We have no interest in drawing them out.' Nor does Hillel seek to engage former haredim in religious debate. Instead, the organization refers them to libraries and the Internet to find answers to theological questions.
Da'at Emet was founded in 1998 by Yaron Yadan to provide such answers. The organization, dedicated to disseminating a scientific, humanistic interpretation of Judaism, initially went to haredi yeshivot and handed out pamphlets divulging ideas that countered haredi faith-based beliefs, such as those dealing with the divinity of the Torah and the veracity of the Talmud.
'We try to teach the haredi public that they live by an unethical, mistaken and inequitable system,' says Yadan, who fears that haredi influence and growth is undermining the state's democratic character. 'We try to explain to them that the secular world is more beautiful - it is filled with creativity, ethics and spirituality.'
These days, Da'at Emet reaches haredi communities here and abroad through lectures, workshops and its Web site, which features a range of articles written from an academic, humanistic perspective that expose inconsistencies, scientific errors and ethically problematic passages in the Bible and Talmud.
Da'at Emet is the fruit of Yadan's intellectual journey - he went from being secular to haredi, before becoming secular again. Having grown up in a non-religious household, he began to study at a Jerusalem yeshiva at age 17 to satisfy his search for meaning and purpose. 'I was (and still am) very knowledgeable in Jewish texts - the entire bookshelf,' he says.
While serving as head of a yeshiva for three years, Yadan began to critically examine biblical and talmudic texts. 'I found errors in zoology, medicine, astronomy, cosmology, anatomy and other fields, and I noticed that in Jewish religious texts morality is based not on ethics, but on mitzvot [commandments] founded upon halachic [religious law] errors. As a believer whose whole life was bound to the idea that God wrote the Torah, it eventually became clear to me there was no divine connection to the Torah.'
Finally, when he was convinced that his life was based on lies, Yadan broke the news to his wife. Unable to stand the idea that their seven children would continue to live and study an irrational belief system, he worked for three years to guide his wife toward his new truth. 'I succeeded. I don't know how. One night she turned on the lights on Shabbat, and that was that.'
Yadan has since divorced and remarried, and is currently completing his BA in Jewish thought. Judging from inquiries from haredim, he confirms that the phenomenon is growing.
'Today, unlike the time when Da'at Emet was founded, there is no haredi household that doesn't know someone who left the fold. It used to be that if a haredi family had a son or daughter who [became secular], other children in the family would not be considered for arranged marriages.'
These days, says Yadan, defection is more commonplace and no longer scars the reputation of other siblings.
His transition into the secular world may have been easier than that of other yotzim because of his secular roots, but with seven children to support and no profession, Yadan faced enormous financial hardship. Sometimes he advises haredim with many children not to leave.
'If you have no profession and even if your wife agrees with you, live a double life,' he tells them. 'Try at least to send your kids to schools that offer general education.'
While previous generations of yotzim laid the groundwork for others to follow, Yadan thinks the process remains a difficult one, as one former Jerusalem hassid attests.
'AT FIRST your life is hell. On one hand you're not familiar with secular culture, while on the other, you want to be a part of it,' says S., 23, who shaved off his beard and peyot only a few months ago. 'I never thought I'd do it. It takes courage to leave everything and go into a world you don't know.'
S. doesn't describe the process of leaving as the result of an intellectual journey or sudden revelation. He simply never felt like he fitted in. 'I lived a regular haredi life - I wasn't such a rebel - but I reached a situation where I couldn't stand living that way anymore. I never got along with my immediate family. We had no emotional connection. We had different mentalities. I was more drawn to a life of freedom, nature.'
A year ago, he divorced his wife from an arranged marriage that was a mismatch from the start. 'They married me to someone, it didn't work and I got divorced,' he says, simply.
Several months later he took off with his savings, and lived out of a suitcase in the center of the country until he eventually settled in a Tel Aviv apartment subsidized by Hillel. He found a job at a food stand but speaks with bitterness of his early work experience. 'They take advantage of you. At first you're very timid.' S. doesn't expect to secure a better-paying job without an academic qualification, as is common among yotzim.
'Those who study in yeshiva don't really know anything,' Ofir explains. 'They know Talmud very well, but don't know English or math.' To achieve a BA, the average male yotzeh must learn English from scratch, complete matriculation exams (a process that can take up to two years) and attend college for approximately four years. Some opt for army service, which further stretches the time until they graduate from college.
'If someone becomes more religious, they get help, education, housing, food,' relates S. 'Hessed [charity] is an integral part of haredi life, and many charity organizations provide food and services for needy haredim. You don't have that for people who become secular. Secular people live their lives. As a yotzeh, you're on your own. It's like you're thrown to the winds.'
To fill that void, Hillel models itself after charity organizations. Unlike some religious outreach organizations that receive government funding, Hillel subsists on private donations, mostly from abroad. The funds are channeled primarily for its members' education. The staff consists entirely of volunteers, except for one part-time position. Each Hillel member is assigned an individual tutor on secular living, and at both the Tel Aviv and Jerusalem branches, a library and racks of secular clothing are at the members' disposal.
Last weekend, Hillel organized a Purim retreat with workshops on employees' rights, dating and love and sex. In a world of arranged marriages, yotzim do not acquire basic dating skills.
'A lot of women at Hillel complain that the yotzim are very rude in their advances, because they have no idea how to approach a woman,' says P., a former haredi woman. 'Women have their own difficulties approaching men in the outer world because the codes are so different. The rules of the game in the secular world are much more varied. In the religious world it's very black and white - it's clear what you're supposed to do at every stage in the courtship.'
Ironically, female yotzot from certain haredi communities leave their world better equipped to adjust. Haredi women are often expected to support the family while husbands learn in yeshiva, and study math, English and science in high school. However, far fewer women than men leave haredi communities, in part because their lives are situated around the home and they are usually married off at a younger age. They also have a lot more at stake, including losing the amenities that go with an arranged marriage and often being stigmatized as 'whores,' who should be distanced from their community at all costs.
But R., a member of Hillel, points out that even a girls' education is usually not enough. 'When you grow up you don't have television or radio, and don't hear English songs - you just see and read Hebrew.'
Upon breaking away from her community, R. traveled to India where she had to converse in English for the first time. 'I didn't know how to say 'restaurant,' 'hotel,' 'waiter' - nothing. I felt so stupid.'
Racheli Granot, who left her home in Bnei Brak as a teen, describes herself as having adopted provocative dress and vulgar speech in her early rebellious years. 'As a girl who grew up in the hassidic world, when I went out to the free world I was very 'anti.' I rebelled against values, parents, family, myself and friends. I lost control. I wanted to swallow the world in one go.'
At 18 she joined Hillel, which guided her toward a healthier framework of work and study. 'They hammered into my skull that there are no short cuts in life, that I must study to bridge the big gap in my education, to aim high and try to be something in life,' she says.
WHILE YOTZIM often consider their entry into mainstream society a type of rebirth, replete with a new slew of opportunities for intellectual growth and freedom, the process of fully integrating may take many years for some. There is a common debate among Hillel members as to when a yotzeh stops being a yotzeh.
'You can't say I feel better,' says S., whose natural early-20s uncertainty is exacerbated by his limited childhood experiences. 'When you don't know yourself, your way around, you can't feel better. But I try to deal with what I have, to make the most of it.'
Meir Tahover, 25, believes that his process of adjustment took only several months because he began to scientifically research the non-haredi world as a teen, when he already began to doubt his hassidic lifestyle, asking questions like: 'It didn't make sense that God would create a person so that he'll suffer - why create fruit only to forbid it?'
From 19, this self-professed former model yeshiva student began to investigate other streams of Judaism, including religious Zionism, until he came to the conclusion at 23 that 'religion is not for me.' When his parents understood that he had abandoned religion completely, they threw him out of the house. At that point, Tahover became a member of Hillel, which assisted him in putting a roof over his head and funding studies toward his matriculation exam. He currently works in a stationary store and defines his goal simply: 'To build a new life. To make a better future for my children.'
With the passage of time his parents have softened toward him. Tahover recently attended his sister's wedding, where his father shook his hand for the first time in two years. He participates regularly in the popular Tapuz chat forum, responding to concerns raised by potential yotzim.
'One type is very intellectual and asks the right questions,' he says of the yotzim he has encountered. This group, he says, is a minority because a healthy sense of reason and inquiry is stifled at an early age. 'The second type, of which there are more, consists of those who don't have it good in the haredi community and seek a change.'
Faranak Margolese, author of the book Off the Derech, which examines why Jews leave Orthodoxy, cites a common thread in the motivations of haredim who leave. 'It seems the pressure to be religious in one particular way is often too stifling. The road becomes too narrow to walk, and the inability to legitimately move to another brand of observance leaves too few options for those who don't fit the mold,' she notes.
Ofir notices that most Hillel members abandon any belief in God or religious observance - at least in the early stages of rebellion. This trend could be stemmed, says Margolese, if haredi communities would change their attitudes toward other Jewish streams. 'A fair number of those in the haredi world who go off might have stayed at least somewhat observant if other communities or observant options were considered legitimate to their own world,' she says.
Considering the independent spirit, intellectual curiosity and mental fortitude required to leave their communities, yotzim who succeed in providing for their basic needs - whether through organizations like Hillel or on their own - often become productive, even overachieving members of society, notes Ofir. Hillel members have graduated from top Israeli universities and several have become army officers.
Perhaps the most telltale incident of the yotzim's assimilation into secular society occurred after Friday dinner, when they gathered to watch the popular television parody show Eretz Nehederet. They sat on sofas, laughing at all the jokes poked at politicians and celebrities.
As one member put it: 'The television show has nothing to do with being yotzim. Two million people watch it.'
In their jeans and T-shirts, they looked like the average Israeli who grew up on television, but their laughter may have been a little louder.
(BOX) They're in the army now
In haredi communities, the IDF is a symbol of the secular Jewish state that they reject outright. In principle, yeshiva students are exempt from military service and the government considers yeshiva study as national service. Haredi men who do not study in yeshiva, however, are required by law to enlist but are often encouraged by rabbis and community leaders to deliberately fail recruitment exams.
'One reason haredim don't want yeshiva students to go to the army is very simple,' says T., 19, a Hillel member in his second year of army service. 'As soon as they're exposed to the secular world, they see a new way and there's more chance of them leaving the haredi way of life.'
Prior to his break from his Sephardi haredi community, T. lied to the army about the state of his psychological health in order to secure an exemption. After much hesitation, he eventually decided to fulfill his army service. He worked to nullify his self-imposed exemption, but given his fake psychological profile, was placed in a unit for ex-cons and at-risk youth.
Despite this setback he successfully passed an officers' training course and now works in his field of choice, computers, although army bureaucracy still prevents him from upgrading his profile.
'We sometimes get in the picture to help them gain better positions,' says Hillel director Rina Ofir. 'The army isn't attentive enough and doesn't listen to us enough, and so we always have problems with the army.'
A Hillel liaison takes up cases like T's, and also assists in shortening service for those who are not prepared to serve the standard three years.
'Generally, we are supportive of their serving in the army,' says Ofir. 'But not everyone can do it. They have been educated since childhood against the army, and it's not easy for them.'
Such was the case with M., a handsome teen with gelled hair who left his hassidic Mea She'arim community at 16. 'At first I didn't want to be recruited because I heard bad stories about the army,' he explains in Hebrew, which he says he didn't learn properly until age 13.
M. met with an army psychologist to veto his exemption, and now serves as a driver with the status of a lone soldier.
Serving in the army, he says, has improved his self-image. Upon first leaving home, he would hang out with a ruffian crowd in Jerusalem streets before finding shelter at a youth hostel through a local organization assisting victims of family violence.
'I see all types of people in the army,' he says. 'It's very interesting. At first I thought I couldn't be in a structured environment. I was a problematic kid. Now I see from the army that I can be in a structured environment.'
His military service, however, has tarnished the image of his family. 'My 18-year-old brother is having trouble finding a shiduch [arranged marriage] because his brother is a soldier. They don't understand that we are protecting them.'
One of the greatest obstacles for ex-haredi soldiers is the loneliness. 'When I joined up, everyone came with their parents and I came by myself,' recalls M. 'I almost wanted to cry.'
Understanding this, Hillel representatives attend army ceremonies with the members and send them care packages every month. Volunteer families work with Hillel to 'adopt' soldiers - to give them a place to spend the weekend for a good meal, laundry and other amenities regular soldiers usually enjoy at their parents' house.
Despite the obstacles, T. is grateful for this opportunity. 'Thanks to the army I got a chance to understand secular society. I can still see the differences between them and me. They'll talk about cartoons they watched as a kid, and I don't.'
He also notices another, unlikely difference. 'Today I love the army - probably more than the others. I think I'm moved more than any other soldier when I hear Hatikva played every Thursday.'
Click here for original
For many disillusioned haredim leaving their close-knit community is like moving to a foreign country.
'Who wants to make kiddush?' a long-haired man asks at the Friday night table, holding a kiddush cup.
There seem to be no takers, so he begins himself to say the blessing but stops somewhere in the middle when he realizes no one is really paying attention. 'Yalla!' he says, dismissively, cutting the kiddush short while everyone proceeds to eat the three-course, buffet-style Shabbat meal.
Once skipping kiddush would have been a sacrilege for almost everyone around the table. These days, making the choice is its own blessing. The men and women sitting at the table are all former haredim who broke out of their dogmatic, strict confines, on pain of excommunication, poverty and loneliness, to live in a world in which they can choose how to live.
For some, this kind of gathering is the closest they get to feeling like part of a family, says Rina Ofir, director of Hillel, a non-profit organization that helps former haredim adjust to mainstream, pluralistic Israeli life. 'They don't really have the chance to go to home on Friday nights.'
Most haredi defectors are immediately ejected from their homes once they appear at the family doorstep without peyot (sidelocks) or, in the case of women, without a modest skirt.
Two years ago, Hillel made communal Friday night dinners a tradition, alternating weekly between its Tel Aviv and Jerusalem branches. 'It's important for them to be together, for the food as well - for some of them it's their only real meal because they eat here and there and don't really have money,' explains Ofir.
Leaving haredi communities to join mainstream Israeli society is for many like moving to a foreign country. It entails learning a new language (particularly English, but in some cases also spoken Hebrew), internalizing modern codes of dress and behavior, creating a social framework and securing housing and employment.
Some haredi communities can be likened to Yiddish-speaking Eastern European shtetls - minus the cold weather and with modern appliances. 'Yotzim define themselves as new immigrants,' says Ofir, referring to haredi defectors who are commonly called yotzim b'she'ela ('going out to question,' a pun on hozrim b'teshuva, the Hebrew term for those returning to religion).
Despite these difficulties, the number of newly secular is apparently increasing, judging from last year's hike in inquiries to Hillel's open line. The proliferation of the Internet has made access to secular worldviews more readily available to haredim via their computers or cellphones. Many yotzim and prospective yotzim congregate digitally on the popular chat forum 'yotzim b'she'ela' on the Tapuz Web site portal. This is one reason, says Ofir, why some haredi community leaders are beginning to outlaw Internet use.
'It's important for us to state that we are not missionaries,' she clarifies. 'We work with those who choose to leave the haredi community. We have no interest in drawing them out.' Nor does Hillel seek to engage former haredim in religious debate. Instead, the organization refers them to libraries and the Internet to find answers to theological questions.
Da'at Emet was founded in 1998 by Yaron Yadan to provide such answers. The organization, dedicated to disseminating a scientific, humanistic interpretation of Judaism, initially went to haredi yeshivot and handed out pamphlets divulging ideas that countered haredi faith-based beliefs, such as those dealing with the divinity of the Torah and the veracity of the Talmud.
'We try to teach the haredi public that they live by an unethical, mistaken and inequitable system,' says Yadan, who fears that haredi influence and growth is undermining the state's democratic character. 'We try to explain to them that the secular world is more beautiful - it is filled with creativity, ethics and spirituality.'
These days, Da'at Emet reaches haredi communities here and abroad through lectures, workshops and its Web site, which features a range of articles written from an academic, humanistic perspective that expose inconsistencies, scientific errors and ethically problematic passages in the Bible and Talmud.
Da'at Emet is the fruit of Yadan's intellectual journey - he went from being secular to haredi, before becoming secular again. Having grown up in a non-religious household, he began to study at a Jerusalem yeshiva at age 17 to satisfy his search for meaning and purpose. 'I was (and still am) very knowledgeable in Jewish texts - the entire bookshelf,' he says.
While serving as head of a yeshiva for three years, Yadan began to critically examine biblical and talmudic texts. 'I found errors in zoology, medicine, astronomy, cosmology, anatomy and other fields, and I noticed that in Jewish religious texts morality is based not on ethics, but on mitzvot [commandments] founded upon halachic [religious law] errors. As a believer whose whole life was bound to the idea that God wrote the Torah, it eventually became clear to me there was no divine connection to the Torah.'
Finally, when he was convinced that his life was based on lies, Yadan broke the news to his wife. Unable to stand the idea that their seven children would continue to live and study an irrational belief system, he worked for three years to guide his wife toward his new truth. 'I succeeded. I don't know how. One night she turned on the lights on Shabbat, and that was that.'
Yadan has since divorced and remarried, and is currently completing his BA in Jewish thought. Judging from inquiries from haredim, he confirms that the phenomenon is growing.
'Today, unlike the time when Da'at Emet was founded, there is no haredi household that doesn't know someone who left the fold. It used to be that if a haredi family had a son or daughter who [became secular], other children in the family would not be considered for arranged marriages.'
These days, says Yadan, defection is more commonplace and no longer scars the reputation of other siblings.
His transition into the secular world may have been easier than that of other yotzim because of his secular roots, but with seven children to support and no profession, Yadan faced enormous financial hardship. Sometimes he advises haredim with many children not to leave.
'If you have no profession and even if your wife agrees with you, live a double life,' he tells them. 'Try at least to send your kids to schools that offer general education.'
While previous generations of yotzim laid the groundwork for others to follow, Yadan thinks the process remains a difficult one, as one former Jerusalem hassid attests.
'AT FIRST your life is hell. On one hand you're not familiar with secular culture, while on the other, you want to be a part of it,' says S., 23, who shaved off his beard and peyot only a few months ago. 'I never thought I'd do it. It takes courage to leave everything and go into a world you don't know.'
S. doesn't describe the process of leaving as the result of an intellectual journey or sudden revelation. He simply never felt like he fitted in. 'I lived a regular haredi life - I wasn't such a rebel - but I reached a situation where I couldn't stand living that way anymore. I never got along with my immediate family. We had no emotional connection. We had different mentalities. I was more drawn to a life of freedom, nature.'
A year ago, he divorced his wife from an arranged marriage that was a mismatch from the start. 'They married me to someone, it didn't work and I got divorced,' he says, simply.
Several months later he took off with his savings, and lived out of a suitcase in the center of the country until he eventually settled in a Tel Aviv apartment subsidized by Hillel. He found a job at a food stand but speaks with bitterness of his early work experience. 'They take advantage of you. At first you're very timid.' S. doesn't expect to secure a better-paying job without an academic qualification, as is common among yotzim.
'Those who study in yeshiva don't really know anything,' Ofir explains. 'They know Talmud very well, but don't know English or math.' To achieve a BA, the average male yotzeh must learn English from scratch, complete matriculation exams (a process that can take up to two years) and attend college for approximately four years. Some opt for army service, which further stretches the time until they graduate from college.
'If someone becomes more religious, they get help, education, housing, food,' relates S. 'Hessed [charity] is an integral part of haredi life, and many charity organizations provide food and services for needy haredim. You don't have that for people who become secular. Secular people live their lives. As a yotzeh, you're on your own. It's like you're thrown to the winds.'
To fill that void, Hillel models itself after charity organizations. Unlike some religious outreach organizations that receive government funding, Hillel subsists on private donations, mostly from abroad. The funds are channeled primarily for its members' education. The staff consists entirely of volunteers, except for one part-time position. Each Hillel member is assigned an individual tutor on secular living, and at both the Tel Aviv and Jerusalem branches, a library and racks of secular clothing are at the members' disposal.
Last weekend, Hillel organized a Purim retreat with workshops on employees' rights, dating and love and sex. In a world of arranged marriages, yotzim do not acquire basic dating skills.
'A lot of women at Hillel complain that the yotzim are very rude in their advances, because they have no idea how to approach a woman,' says P., a former haredi woman. 'Women have their own difficulties approaching men in the outer world because the codes are so different. The rules of the game in the secular world are much more varied. In the religious world it's very black and white - it's clear what you're supposed to do at every stage in the courtship.'
Ironically, female yotzot from certain haredi communities leave their world better equipped to adjust. Haredi women are often expected to support the family while husbands learn in yeshiva, and study math, English and science in high school. However, far fewer women than men leave haredi communities, in part because their lives are situated around the home and they are usually married off at a younger age. They also have a lot more at stake, including losing the amenities that go with an arranged marriage and often being stigmatized as 'whores,' who should be distanced from their community at all costs.
But R., a member of Hillel, points out that even a girls' education is usually not enough. 'When you grow up you don't have television or radio, and don't hear English songs - you just see and read Hebrew.'
Upon breaking away from her community, R. traveled to India where she had to converse in English for the first time. 'I didn't know how to say 'restaurant,' 'hotel,' 'waiter' - nothing. I felt so stupid.'
Racheli Granot, who left her home in Bnei Brak as a teen, describes herself as having adopted provocative dress and vulgar speech in her early rebellious years. 'As a girl who grew up in the hassidic world, when I went out to the free world I was very 'anti.' I rebelled against values, parents, family, myself and friends. I lost control. I wanted to swallow the world in one go.'
At 18 she joined Hillel, which guided her toward a healthier framework of work and study. 'They hammered into my skull that there are no short cuts in life, that I must study to bridge the big gap in my education, to aim high and try to be something in life,' she says.
WHILE YOTZIM often consider their entry into mainstream society a type of rebirth, replete with a new slew of opportunities for intellectual growth and freedom, the process of fully integrating may take many years for some. There is a common debate among Hillel members as to when a yotzeh stops being a yotzeh.
'You can't say I feel better,' says S., whose natural early-20s uncertainty is exacerbated by his limited childhood experiences. 'When you don't know yourself, your way around, you can't feel better. But I try to deal with what I have, to make the most of it.'
Meir Tahover, 25, believes that his process of adjustment took only several months because he began to scientifically research the non-haredi world as a teen, when he already began to doubt his hassidic lifestyle, asking questions like: 'It didn't make sense that God would create a person so that he'll suffer - why create fruit only to forbid it?'
From 19, this self-professed former model yeshiva student began to investigate other streams of Judaism, including religious Zionism, until he came to the conclusion at 23 that 'religion is not for me.' When his parents understood that he had abandoned religion completely, they threw him out of the house. At that point, Tahover became a member of Hillel, which assisted him in putting a roof over his head and funding studies toward his matriculation exam. He currently works in a stationary store and defines his goal simply: 'To build a new life. To make a better future for my children.'
With the passage of time his parents have softened toward him. Tahover recently attended his sister's wedding, where his father shook his hand for the first time in two years. He participates regularly in the popular Tapuz chat forum, responding to concerns raised by potential yotzim.
'One type is very intellectual and asks the right questions,' he says of the yotzim he has encountered. This group, he says, is a minority because a healthy sense of reason and inquiry is stifled at an early age. 'The second type, of which there are more, consists of those who don't have it good in the haredi community and seek a change.'
Faranak Margolese, author of the book Off the Derech, which examines why Jews leave Orthodoxy, cites a common thread in the motivations of haredim who leave. 'It seems the pressure to be religious in one particular way is often too stifling. The road becomes too narrow to walk, and the inability to legitimately move to another brand of observance leaves too few options for those who don't fit the mold,' she notes.
Ofir notices that most Hillel members abandon any belief in God or religious observance - at least in the early stages of rebellion. This trend could be stemmed, says Margolese, if haredi communities would change their attitudes toward other Jewish streams. 'A fair number of those in the haredi world who go off might have stayed at least somewhat observant if other communities or observant options were considered legitimate to their own world,' she says.
Considering the independent spirit, intellectual curiosity and mental fortitude required to leave their communities, yotzim who succeed in providing for their basic needs - whether through organizations like Hillel or on their own - often become productive, even overachieving members of society, notes Ofir. Hillel members have graduated from top Israeli universities and several have become army officers.
Perhaps the most telltale incident of the yotzim's assimilation into secular society occurred after Friday dinner, when they gathered to watch the popular television parody show Eretz Nehederet. They sat on sofas, laughing at all the jokes poked at politicians and celebrities.
As one member put it: 'The television show has nothing to do with being yotzim. Two million people watch it.'
In their jeans and T-shirts, they looked like the average Israeli who grew up on television, but their laughter may have been a little louder.
(BOX) They're in the army now
In haredi communities, the IDF is a symbol of the secular Jewish state that they reject outright. In principle, yeshiva students are exempt from military service and the government considers yeshiva study as national service. Haredi men who do not study in yeshiva, however, are required by law to enlist but are often encouraged by rabbis and community leaders to deliberately fail recruitment exams.
'One reason haredim don't want yeshiva students to go to the army is very simple,' says T., 19, a Hillel member in his second year of army service. 'As soon as they're exposed to the secular world, they see a new way and there's more chance of them leaving the haredi way of life.'
Prior to his break from his Sephardi haredi community, T. lied to the army about the state of his psychological health in order to secure an exemption. After much hesitation, he eventually decided to fulfill his army service. He worked to nullify his self-imposed exemption, but given his fake psychological profile, was placed in a unit for ex-cons and at-risk youth.
Despite this setback he successfully passed an officers' training course and now works in his field of choice, computers, although army bureaucracy still prevents him from upgrading his profile.
'We sometimes get in the picture to help them gain better positions,' says Hillel director Rina Ofir. 'The army isn't attentive enough and doesn't listen to us enough, and so we always have problems with the army.'
A Hillel liaison takes up cases like T's, and also assists in shortening service for those who are not prepared to serve the standard three years.
'Generally, we are supportive of their serving in the army,' says Ofir. 'But not everyone can do it. They have been educated since childhood against the army, and it's not easy for them.'
Such was the case with M., a handsome teen with gelled hair who left his hassidic Mea She'arim community at 16. 'At first I didn't want to be recruited because I heard bad stories about the army,' he explains in Hebrew, which he says he didn't learn properly until age 13.
M. met with an army psychologist to veto his exemption, and now serves as a driver with the status of a lone soldier.
Serving in the army, he says, has improved his self-image. Upon first leaving home, he would hang out with a ruffian crowd in Jerusalem streets before finding shelter at a youth hostel through a local organization assisting victims of family violence.
'I see all types of people in the army,' he says. 'It's very interesting. At first I thought I couldn't be in a structured environment. I was a problematic kid. Now I see from the army that I can be in a structured environment.'
His military service, however, has tarnished the image of his family. 'My 18-year-old brother is having trouble finding a shiduch [arranged marriage] because his brother is a soldier. They don't understand that we are protecting them.'
One of the greatest obstacles for ex-haredi soldiers is the loneliness. 'When I joined up, everyone came with their parents and I came by myself,' recalls M. 'I almost wanted to cry.'
Understanding this, Hillel representatives attend army ceremonies with the members and send them care packages every month. Volunteer families work with Hillel to 'adopt' soldiers - to give them a place to spend the weekend for a good meal, laundry and other amenities regular soldiers usually enjoy at their parents' house.
Despite the obstacles, T. is grateful for this opportunity. 'Thanks to the army I got a chance to understand secular society. I can still see the differences between them and me. They'll talk about cartoons they watched as a kid, and I don't.'
He also notices another, unlikely difference. 'Today I love the army - probably more than the others. I think I'm moved more than any other soldier when I hear Hatikva played every Thursday.'
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Designing woman
Jerusalem Post, Daily; February 20, 2007
Sitting on the blue and white striped sofas in the living room, Lea Gottlieb, founder of the famous Israeli swimwear brand Gottex, starts off the interview with a charming smile and disarming declaration: "Ani me'od old," she says, in English sprinkled with Hebrew, explaining her use of a hearing aid. "Mrs. Gottlieb," as she is referred by all who know her, turns 89 in September.
Judging by her current creative output, however, it's hard to categorize this fashion matriarch as "old." A few minutes into the interview at her Tel Aviv penthouse, she's already showing off the 2007 catalogue of the Lea Gottlieb swimwear line she established in 2005. The opening gala event of the International Women's Festival in Holon taking place tonight will salute Gottlieb for her past- and present-contributions to Israeli fashion.
Gottlieb's rags to riches story is already the stuff of Israeli fashion history lore. Born in Hungary, Gottlieb came to Israel on ship after World War II with her late husband, Armin, a raincoat maker by profession. With no use for raincoats in the Mediterranean heat, the seamstress Gottlieb began to make swimsuits in their small Jaffa flat with her sewing machine. Gottlieb defines "taste" as their greatest, initial capital.
"You need good taste-and with taste, a very strong desire-then anything is possible," she says.
In their early days, her husband would peddle their wares door to door to shop owners throughout Tel Aviv- Jaffa. Decades later they sold their wares to Jacqueline Kennedy, Princess Diana, Nancy Kissinger, Elizabeth Taylor, and the list goes on.
But today Gottlieb speaks as if her career has just begun.
"At this age, thank God I am healthy-I can work and think-this is fantastic," Gottlieb says with a gentility and sweetness that belies her imposing stature in the Israel fashion world. "Everything comes from here," she says, pointing to her heart. "I need to do. I need to be active."
Her youthful ability to look forward may have been honed by some of her past heartbreaks.
Gottlieb's decision to start a new swimwear line at age 85 was prompted by the dying wish of daughter, Yehudit, who passed away from cancer.
"She told me at the last minute that I have to work. It will not be good if I don't work, and therefore I am working," relates Gottlieb. Both her daughters were full partners in Gottex operations. Gottlieb is even out-working her older daughter, Miriam, 66, who lives in New York where she works a full-time grandmother. Gottlieb is grandmother to six and great-grandmother to seven.
Gottlieb would rather not discuss the widely-publicized, painful, and friction-filled sale of Gottex to the holding company, Africa-Israel Investments 10 years ago. That Gottlieb wasn't invited to Gottex's jubilee anniversary celebration last year speaks itself for the soured relations between the old and new owners. Today Gottlieb is, after all, Gottex's competitor.
IN 2005 Gottlieb teamed up with Macro Clothing, a subsidiary of Tefron, a publicly traded apparel manufacturer in Israel, to manufacture, market and distribute the first Lea Gottlieb collection. As a test run, Macro flew with Gottlieb to Spain to present the largest department store chain there with their first collection. They bought 25,000 pieces on the spot.
"She's a legend," relates Tamara Lew Wik, brand manager for Macro. "When you say 'Mrs. Gottlieb', anyone in the swimwear business is still excited that she still has vision and talent." Gottlieb visits the Macro studio weekly to develop her original ideas together with a team of designers assigned specifically to the brand. Gottlieb travels yearly to European fashion shows to stay current. Currently, they are preparing the 2008 collection, which will be sold in department stories and boutique shops across Europe, Russia, and the US, including Bloomingdale's and Neiman Marcus, past Gottex clients.
"My collection is like boutique Gottex," Gottlieb says of the inevitable similarities between her new designs and classic Gottex. Her 2007 collection include the signature patterns that made Gottex a household name: bold, colorful, floral prints; marine and yacht motifs; and exotic patterns inspired by artists Gauguin and a Frida Kahlo.
"I love colors," Gottlieb affirms. Towards the end of the interview, she walks me through her lush, flower-filled patio to reach her book-lined studio, where she is greeted by her Pomeranian, Motek. She pulls out the books of the artists who provide her with plentiful inspiration: Renoir, Matisse, Dali, and Cassatt, to name a few.
"I love Gauguin a lot," she says. A poster of the post-Impressionist master hangs across from a bright print of Naomi Campbell posing in an earthy Gottex bikini, and the similarities are evident.
When she is not thinking up new designs, she attends museums, shops for flowers to add to her collection, and takes Motek out for walks. Her assistant reminds her that later that night they she is attending a Toscanini tribute concert.
Gottlieb has no complaints: "I'm always satisfied."
Tonight's gala for the International Women's Festival will be hosted by Israeli model and television host Galit Gutman, and will feature a tribute fashion show, interviews with Gottlieb's friends colleagues, and a ballet performance.
Gottlieb's advice to the career woman is simple: "To find an idea to work hard for that-after that success comes."
Sitting on the blue and white striped sofas in the living room, Lea Gottlieb, founder of the famous Israeli swimwear brand Gottex, starts off the interview with a charming smile and disarming declaration: "Ani me'od old," she says, in English sprinkled with Hebrew, explaining her use of a hearing aid. "Mrs. Gottlieb," as she is referred by all who know her, turns 89 in September.
Judging by her current creative output, however, it's hard to categorize this fashion matriarch as "old." A few minutes into the interview at her Tel Aviv penthouse, she's already showing off the 2007 catalogue of the Lea Gottlieb swimwear line she established in 2005. The opening gala event of the International Women's Festival in Holon taking place tonight will salute Gottlieb for her past- and present-contributions to Israeli fashion.
Gottlieb's rags to riches story is already the stuff of Israeli fashion history lore. Born in Hungary, Gottlieb came to Israel on ship after World War II with her late husband, Armin, a raincoat maker by profession. With no use for raincoats in the Mediterranean heat, the seamstress Gottlieb began to make swimsuits in their small Jaffa flat with her sewing machine. Gottlieb defines "taste" as their greatest, initial capital.
"You need good taste-and with taste, a very strong desire-then anything is possible," she says.
In their early days, her husband would peddle their wares door to door to shop owners throughout Tel Aviv- Jaffa. Decades later they sold their wares to Jacqueline Kennedy, Princess Diana, Nancy Kissinger, Elizabeth Taylor, and the list goes on.
But today Gottlieb speaks as if her career has just begun.
"At this age, thank God I am healthy-I can work and think-this is fantastic," Gottlieb says with a gentility and sweetness that belies her imposing stature in the Israel fashion world. "Everything comes from here," she says, pointing to her heart. "I need to do. I need to be active."
Her youthful ability to look forward may have been honed by some of her past heartbreaks.
Gottlieb's decision to start a new swimwear line at age 85 was prompted by the dying wish of daughter, Yehudit, who passed away from cancer.
"She told me at the last minute that I have to work. It will not be good if I don't work, and therefore I am working," relates Gottlieb. Both her daughters were full partners in Gottex operations. Gottlieb is even out-working her older daughter, Miriam, 66, who lives in New York where she works a full-time grandmother. Gottlieb is grandmother to six and great-grandmother to seven.
Gottlieb would rather not discuss the widely-publicized, painful, and friction-filled sale of Gottex to the holding company, Africa-Israel Investments 10 years ago. That Gottlieb wasn't invited to Gottex's jubilee anniversary celebration last year speaks itself for the soured relations between the old and new owners. Today Gottlieb is, after all, Gottex's competitor.
IN 2005 Gottlieb teamed up with Macro Clothing, a subsidiary of Tefron, a publicly traded apparel manufacturer in Israel, to manufacture, market and distribute the first Lea Gottlieb collection. As a test run, Macro flew with Gottlieb to Spain to present the largest department store chain there with their first collection. They bought 25,000 pieces on the spot.
"She's a legend," relates Tamara Lew Wik, brand manager for Macro. "When you say 'Mrs. Gottlieb', anyone in the swimwear business is still excited that she still has vision and talent." Gottlieb visits the Macro studio weekly to develop her original ideas together with a team of designers assigned specifically to the brand. Gottlieb travels yearly to European fashion shows to stay current. Currently, they are preparing the 2008 collection, which will be sold in department stories and boutique shops across Europe, Russia, and the US, including Bloomingdale's and Neiman Marcus, past Gottex clients.
"My collection is like boutique Gottex," Gottlieb says of the inevitable similarities between her new designs and classic Gottex. Her 2007 collection include the signature patterns that made Gottex a household name: bold, colorful, floral prints; marine and yacht motifs; and exotic patterns inspired by artists Gauguin and a Frida Kahlo.
"I love colors," Gottlieb affirms. Towards the end of the interview, she walks me through her lush, flower-filled patio to reach her book-lined studio, where she is greeted by her Pomeranian, Motek. She pulls out the books of the artists who provide her with plentiful inspiration: Renoir, Matisse, Dali, and Cassatt, to name a few.
"I love Gauguin a lot," she says. A poster of the post-Impressionist master hangs across from a bright print of Naomi Campbell posing in an earthy Gottex bikini, and the similarities are evident.
When she is not thinking up new designs, she attends museums, shops for flowers to add to her collection, and takes Motek out for walks. Her assistant reminds her that later that night they she is attending a Toscanini tribute concert.
Gottlieb has no complaints: "I'm always satisfied."
Tonight's gala for the International Women's Festival will be hosted by Israeli model and television host Galit Gutman, and will feature a tribute fashion show, interviews with Gottlieb's friends colleagues, and a ballet performance.
Gottlieb's advice to the career woman is simple: "To find an idea to work hard for that-after that success comes."
Friday, February 9, 2007
Railing against the railway
Jerusalem Post, In Jerusalem; February 9, 2007
Click here for original
With the recent split in the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv railway line, some Jerusalem commuters are looking for the fastest track to the metropolis.
It's 9:45 on Monday morning. The parking lot outside the Malha railway station is only one-quarter full. There is no line at the entrance security check, and travelers leisurely stroll up the escalators to an empty hall to buy their tickets from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv.
The train leaves at 9:59 a.m., on schedule. There are about eight seats per passenger, and the train chugs away through Jerusalem brush-filled mountains and rough, golden terrain. A creek refilled from the rainstorm the day before runs alongside the track. At one point, an Arab shepherd leads his goats across it.
The scene outside the window is tranquil and soothing, but behind the scenes, the road to making the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line profitable and effective has been rough, jerky and, critics say, has led nowhere.
"The decision to renew the line was faulty to begin with," says transportation consultant Dr. Moshe Hirsh, who was part of an expert team that advised the government as it checked the possibility of renewing the line. "It went against professional opinion."
Originally built in the early 1890s under Ottoman rule, the Jaffa- Jerusalem line ran its first train in 1892. The Israeli government took over its operation with the founding of the state, and Israel Railways operated the same Tel Aviv-Jerusalem route until it was discontinued in 1998.
Under Ariel Sharon the government decided to renovate the track in 2001 as a less expensive, interim solution to train transport between the capital and the metropolis, while Israel Railways began to build the costly high-speed line. The train re-launched in April 2005 from the newly built station in Malha, and stopped at Beit Shemesh, Lod and Ramla before reaching the Hagana Station in Tel Aviv.
Hirsh was part of the team that simulated the ride to forecast its travel time and cost. "The [experts] said that the length of the ride after the renovation would be 85 minutes and not the 55 minutes Israel Railways predicted."
In addition, they warned that costs would be much higher than anticipated. Today, costs have reached NIS 600 million.
"Either they didn't believe our report, which turned out to be correct, or they thought, perhaps, that they needed to build the line for the public good, to connect Jerusalem with other cities."
Maly Cohen, Israel Railways spokesperson, explains that profit wasn't the only motivating factor.
"The railway system is for the public benefit. Trains in Israel, like trains all over the world, are not all built for economic feasibility or for profitable turnover, as is the case with public transportation in general. The assumption was to invest money in infrastructure because it has a general benefit in the prevention of traffic, accidents, and air pollution."
Given the length of the ride (about 85 minutes) as well as the peripheral location of the Malha Station, the train wasn't considered by many Jerusalem-Tel Aviv commuters as a desirable alternative to cars and buses. The numbers speak for themselves: only some 1,000 people used the train for daily travel between Israel's two major cities in 2006.
Egged declined to give out "classified business" information on the number of daily Jerusalem-Tel Aviv bus commuters, but a look at its Web site timetable reveals that Egged operates over 130 direct buses daily from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. They start a little before 6 a.m. and run about every 15 minutes. Each bus has a standard seating capacity of 51 - the average number of passengers on each Jerusalem- Tel Aviv train.
ADI COHEN, a resident of Ramat Hasharon who works at the Jerusalem Technological Park right across the street from the Malha station, expresses the popular public complaint with the train.
"At the time I was very glad they opened it because it seemed the most convenient," he says. "It has advantages - you can read, do other things you can't do in a car - but the time it took didn't make it feasible."
He now carpools to Jerusalem, cutting the round-trip by one hour total.
Jerusalem resident Shelly Halachmi-Sussman, who also works at the Technological Park, decided to try the train recently for the first time to attend a meeting in Tel Aviv. Just getting to the central bus station would have taken her an extra 20 minutes.
"Once in a while it doesn't bother me," she says, not long after waking up from a pleasant nap while riding the train. "It's like a trip." But she says she wouldn't use it regularly.
At the end of 2006, in response to the low ridership among Jerusalem-Tel Aviv commuters, Israel Railways changed the service pattern so that trains from Jerusalem now terminate at Beit Shemesh, where passengers transfer to a Tel Aviv-bound train. At some times of day there is no connecting train, and passengers from Jerusalem have to wait up to 48 minutes at the Beit Shemesh Station. The move followed the basic laws of economics: increase supply with demand.
"An analysis of the demand reveals that the Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv line is used three times more than the Beit Shemesh-Jerusalem line," reads a statement from the Israel Railways press office. "In addition, the demand for the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line is three times lower than the demand of Beit Shemesh residents."
But the new route got off to a rocky start. On the morning the change went into effect, the train hit a tractor trying to cross the tracks about 3 km before the Beit Shemesh station. The accident left 31 lightly injured.
Some passengers complained the split wasn't publicized properly.
"When they opened up the Malha train station, a big deal was made. When they shut down the direct service, it was on the quiet," says Esther Singer, a Tel Aviv resident who says she suffers from the split. Now she rides the bus to her job in Jerusalem, which takes her up to five hours total daily.
Anna Moses, a resident of Gilo in south Jerusalem, decided to take the train to run errands and visit family in the center of Israel. She didn't know about the transfer at Beit Shemesh.
"They also don't tell you in an orderly, polite way," she says, as the train crosses the Jerusalem countryside. "They announced it on the speakers." She's not sure if she would have taken the train had she known.
A few days after the change, some 70 passengers signed a petition expressing their dissatisfaction with the transfer at Beit Shemesh and asking Israel Railways to reinstate the direct line.
"The halting of direct service between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv makes it very difficult for commuters between the two cities," reads the petition. It lists their complaints as follows: The length of the ride is unbearable (90 minutes from Malha to Tel Aviv's Hagana Station); passengers must go down stairs and through a small tunnel to transfer trains, re-exposing them to bad winter weather; the train experiences unnecessary delays, a symptom, the petition charges, of inefficient timetable management.
Even though she owns a car, Jerusalem resident Leah Rosen, one of the instigators of the petition, saw the train as the best option for commuting to her job at Tel Aviv University.
"I live in the southern part of Jerusalem, and it's easier to get to the Malha railway station than to the Central Bus Station. It's easier on the train to concentrate, get work done."
Since the change, she has been actively seeking other options, like forming a carpool. "If you claim that commuters from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv don't deserve a railroad, that they could take their cars and buses, then I think a value decision is being made here. You're leaving the people from Jerusalem in the lurch. You're saying these people aren't important."
She thinks the lack of immediate, effective commuting options may cause people to leave the city. "Does the mayor want people to leave Jerusalem?" she wonders.
When asked what the city is doing to improve commuting options between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, Gidi Schmerling, Jerusalem Municipality spokesman, offered the following statement: "The municipality works with the government in order to improve transportation to and from Jerusalem, including the new railway line and road number 9."
However, he explained that the government is responsible for most inter-city transport projects.
In a telephone interview, Avner Ovadia, spokesman of the Ministry of Transportation, responded to the complaint made by Jerusalem train commuters: "You have to provide a solution for the majority."
Serving Beit Shemesh, he clarifies, was a top factor in the decision to upgrade the line in the first place. "It was supposed to give an answer to Beit Shemesh and Tel Aviv in addition to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv," he says. "It's important to connect the capital of Israel to other cities. Once you connect it to Beit Shemesh, you connect it to the rest of the chain."
He adds that the upcoming high-speed line will not provide a solution for Beit Shemesh commuters.
Transportation consultant Hirsch sympathizes with the reasons behind the split. But, he adds, the train may have defeated its original purpose - to connect Jerusalem with Beit Shemesh. "Now it's easier for Beit Shemesh residents to travel to Tel Aviv. Once they would have come to Jerusalem."
THE TRAIN arrives in Beit Shemesh on time at 10:38 a.m. It's not rush hour, so the transfer goes smoothly. Passengers walk through a short tunnel to reach the next platform, where the train is waiting.
The carriages are fuller, with a ratio of about four seats per passenger. Jay Haberfield of Ramat Beit Shemesh is among them. He happened to have taken the off-peak train to his job at a bank in Tel Aviv. A few minutes into the ride, he fiddles with some paperwork, and shares his pleasure at the Israel Railways move to split the journey at Beit Shemesh.
"We were experiencing constant delays," he explains. "Before this change Beit Shemesh riders depended on trains coming from Jerusalem, and they constantly came in late five to 15 minutes every day."
As a case in point, he cites the train accident that occurred the day the split went into effect. "Had the change not gone into effect that day it would have been two to three hours late."
On top of that, inbound Jerusalem trains couldn't always accommodate all Beit Shemesh passengers since the winding tracks from Jerusalem and Beit Shemesh could only service trains with a limited number of cars. Now, at peak hours, the Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv line runs double-decker trains.
So far no statistics are available regarding any hike in the number of Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv commuters as a result of the split. Any increase, however, has already come at the expense of some Jerusalem residents, rendering the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line even less frequented.
"I sometimes took the train until they stopped having the direct train," explains Benji, a commuter. "Now I'd have to take the train that leaves at 6:59 a.m. To do that, I'd have to leave my house a little after 6:30 a.m. and I'd get to the train station in Tel Aviv at around 8:30 a.m."
Since he doesn't own a car, he opted for the bus. Riding the bus now, he says, cuts the ride to Tel Aviv by about a half hour.
"The train would have been an option had they met their schedule before they made the split in Beit Shemesh. I would have taken the train much more often. At that point the extra five, 10 minutes made the time even longer, much too long."
A variety of factors affects commuters' decision to choose between train, bus, or car: economics, scheduling, location of residence in Jerusalem and location of Tel Aviv destination. But unless commuters live right near the start or end point, the length of the ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv is likely to reach three hours round-trip door to door, no matter which method is chosen.
Talpiot resident Hillel traveled via bus to, and a train from, his job at an insurance company in Tel Aviv before receiving a company car.
"The bus took about 80 to 90 minutes, sometimes a bit more. In the rain it took two and half hours, which was crazy. The train coming back always took 80 minutes, but I haven't taken it since they changed it. I couldn't bear to go now that you have to change trains."
Fortunately, he received the company car, whose relative value is deducted from his salary, not long before the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv split. But driving a car, he warns, is fraught with its fair share of annoyances. "It's too expensive to drive every day from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv and it's a nasty ride - it's long, dangerous and tiring."
His experience reveals that during rush hour, a driver is likely to sit in traffic for a minimum of 90 minutes. To avoid a long car ride, he makes a point to travel off-hours, but is now considering moving to Beit Shemesh, Modi'in or Ra'anana when his lease is up. "If I move to Beit Shemesh I'll take the train every day so I could make productive use of the time, for davening [praying] or working - and meeting people."
But some train commuters, like MBA student and Jerusalem resident Temima Taragin, aren't bothered enough by the split to give up on train transport. She still travels via train to her job right near the Hashalom Station.
"What I like about the train is that it's very quiet and I like doing my school work. This way I'm not distracted by other things at home - television, shopping. If you're there you might as well make the most of it."
(BOX #1) You decide!
For those commuters still unsure of the best way to get to Tel Aviv, here's a list of pros and cons:
Train
Pros:
1. The idyllic countryside between Beit Shemesh and Jerusalem
2. Tables and ample legroom for a comfortable ride
3. Environmental friendliness
4. The pleasant (and often empty) Malha Station
5. Patriotism
Cons:
1. Current length of ride (90 minutes)
2. No cellphone service for part of the ride
3. The price (NIS 19; round trip, NIS 34.50)
4. The new Beit Shemesh transfer
5. Infrequency (every hour from Jerusalem)
Bus
Pros:
1. On off-peak hours it takes only 50 minutes
2. Relative reliability
3. The price (NIS 17.70, round trip, NIS 30.10 )
4. Frequency of the lines (on average every 15 minutes)
5. Take part in a bona-fide Israeli experience
Cons:
1. The rowdy, crowded Central Bus Station
2. Feeling like a sardine inside the bus during rush hour
3. Car sickness
4. Inability to read or work
5. Risk of road congestion
Car
Pros:
1. Schedule control
2. AC control
3. Radio station, music control
4. Door to door service
5. Car also serves as intra-city transport
Cons:
1. Buying and maintaining a car
2. Cost of gas
3. Full concentration required
4. Parking worries
5. More dangerous than public transportation - O.A.
(BOX #2) Panacea or pain?
A number of transportation projects are currently in the works to provide long-term solutions to traffic, congestion and immobility within and en-route to Jerusalem. Some Jerusalem drivers complain that the construction involved in installing new roads and rails has only made city traffic less smooth and convenient. Time will tell whether or not these mass transportation investments will clear the path for better transport.
The High-Speed Railway
Israel Railways is currently paving the roads for the Jerusalem- Tel Aviv high-speed line, which will connect the two cities via Modi'in and Ben-Gurion Airport.
The project combines innovative transportation technology never before used in Israel, including the building of an underground train station at the Jerusalem International Convention Center and a tunnel 11.5 kilometers long.
Length of ride: 28 minutes Jerusalem-Tel Aviv; 17 minutes Tel Aviv-Mod'iin.
Frequency: Three trains per hour
Estimated completion of Tel Aviv-Modi'in line: October 2007
Estimated completion of Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line: 2011
Construction cost: NIS 4 billion
The Light Rail: The Red Line
The light rail, which last November laid its first track, is slated to make intra-city travel to the city center and the Central Bus Station more efficient and accessible. The first light rail will take passengers through 24 stations from Pisgat Ze'ev to Mount Herzl via the city center, and will serve more than 200,000 passengers a day on its 46 cars.
Length of ride: 28 minutes during rush hour
Frequency: Rush hour: every 4 minutes; Off-peak: every 8-12 minutes
Estimated completion: January 2009
Construction cost: NIS 4.3 billion
HGB High Grade Bus: The Blue Line
The Blue Line will connect north and south Jerusalem, from Gilo to Ramot via the city center, using an updated, state-of-the-art bus system. These new buses will feature hybrid engines and seating for 180 passengers. Traffic lights will change automatically to give immediate right of way to oncoming buses. Part of the infrastructure for this line is already in place and now serves regular Egged busses.
Length of ride: Approximately 30 minutes during rush hour
Frequency: Rush hour, every 3-5 minutes; off-peak, every 6-10 minutes
Estimated completion of infrastructure: August 2008
Construction cost: NIS 180 million (not including buses)
Route 9
Route 9 is currently being constructed to connect the Motza region to neighborhoods in northern Jerusalem via the intersection at Golda Meir Boulevard and the Begin highway. This road is designed to provide a new access point into the city from the main Jerusalem- Tel Aviv highway and therefore to ease congestion at the main Jerusalem entrance.
Construction Cost: NIS 480 million
Estimated completion: Jerusalem Day 2007
Click here for original
With the recent split in the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv railway line, some Jerusalem commuters are looking for the fastest track to the metropolis.
It's 9:45 on Monday morning. The parking lot outside the Malha railway station is only one-quarter full. There is no line at the entrance security check, and travelers leisurely stroll up the escalators to an empty hall to buy their tickets from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv.
The train leaves at 9:59 a.m., on schedule. There are about eight seats per passenger, and the train chugs away through Jerusalem brush-filled mountains and rough, golden terrain. A creek refilled from the rainstorm the day before runs alongside the track. At one point, an Arab shepherd leads his goats across it.
The scene outside the window is tranquil and soothing, but behind the scenes, the road to making the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line profitable and effective has been rough, jerky and, critics say, has led nowhere.
"The decision to renew the line was faulty to begin with," says transportation consultant Dr. Moshe Hirsh, who was part of an expert team that advised the government as it checked the possibility of renewing the line. "It went against professional opinion."
Originally built in the early 1890s under Ottoman rule, the Jaffa- Jerusalem line ran its first train in 1892. The Israeli government took over its operation with the founding of the state, and Israel Railways operated the same Tel Aviv-Jerusalem route until it was discontinued in 1998.
Under Ariel Sharon the government decided to renovate the track in 2001 as a less expensive, interim solution to train transport between the capital and the metropolis, while Israel Railways began to build the costly high-speed line. The train re-launched in April 2005 from the newly built station in Malha, and stopped at Beit Shemesh, Lod and Ramla before reaching the Hagana Station in Tel Aviv.
Hirsh was part of the team that simulated the ride to forecast its travel time and cost. "The [experts] said that the length of the ride after the renovation would be 85 minutes and not the 55 minutes Israel Railways predicted."
In addition, they warned that costs would be much higher than anticipated. Today, costs have reached NIS 600 million.
"Either they didn't believe our report, which turned out to be correct, or they thought, perhaps, that they needed to build the line for the public good, to connect Jerusalem with other cities."
Maly Cohen, Israel Railways spokesperson, explains that profit wasn't the only motivating factor.
"The railway system is for the public benefit. Trains in Israel, like trains all over the world, are not all built for economic feasibility or for profitable turnover, as is the case with public transportation in general. The assumption was to invest money in infrastructure because it has a general benefit in the prevention of traffic, accidents, and air pollution."
Given the length of the ride (about 85 minutes) as well as the peripheral location of the Malha Station, the train wasn't considered by many Jerusalem-Tel Aviv commuters as a desirable alternative to cars and buses. The numbers speak for themselves: only some 1,000 people used the train for daily travel between Israel's two major cities in 2006.
Egged declined to give out "classified business" information on the number of daily Jerusalem-Tel Aviv bus commuters, but a look at its Web site timetable reveals that Egged operates over 130 direct buses daily from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. They start a little before 6 a.m. and run about every 15 minutes. Each bus has a standard seating capacity of 51 - the average number of passengers on each Jerusalem- Tel Aviv train.
ADI COHEN, a resident of Ramat Hasharon who works at the Jerusalem Technological Park right across the street from the Malha station, expresses the popular public complaint with the train.
"At the time I was very glad they opened it because it seemed the most convenient," he says. "It has advantages - you can read, do other things you can't do in a car - but the time it took didn't make it feasible."
He now carpools to Jerusalem, cutting the round-trip by one hour total.
Jerusalem resident Shelly Halachmi-Sussman, who also works at the Technological Park, decided to try the train recently for the first time to attend a meeting in Tel Aviv. Just getting to the central bus station would have taken her an extra 20 minutes.
"Once in a while it doesn't bother me," she says, not long after waking up from a pleasant nap while riding the train. "It's like a trip." But she says she wouldn't use it regularly.
At the end of 2006, in response to the low ridership among Jerusalem-Tel Aviv commuters, Israel Railways changed the service pattern so that trains from Jerusalem now terminate at Beit Shemesh, where passengers transfer to a Tel Aviv-bound train. At some times of day there is no connecting train, and passengers from Jerusalem have to wait up to 48 minutes at the Beit Shemesh Station. The move followed the basic laws of economics: increase supply with demand.
"An analysis of the demand reveals that the Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv line is used three times more than the Beit Shemesh-Jerusalem line," reads a statement from the Israel Railways press office. "In addition, the demand for the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line is three times lower than the demand of Beit Shemesh residents."
But the new route got off to a rocky start. On the morning the change went into effect, the train hit a tractor trying to cross the tracks about 3 km before the Beit Shemesh station. The accident left 31 lightly injured.
Some passengers complained the split wasn't publicized properly.
"When they opened up the Malha train station, a big deal was made. When they shut down the direct service, it was on the quiet," says Esther Singer, a Tel Aviv resident who says she suffers from the split. Now she rides the bus to her job in Jerusalem, which takes her up to five hours total daily.
Anna Moses, a resident of Gilo in south Jerusalem, decided to take the train to run errands and visit family in the center of Israel. She didn't know about the transfer at Beit Shemesh.
"They also don't tell you in an orderly, polite way," she says, as the train crosses the Jerusalem countryside. "They announced it on the speakers." She's not sure if she would have taken the train had she known.
A few days after the change, some 70 passengers signed a petition expressing their dissatisfaction with the transfer at Beit Shemesh and asking Israel Railways to reinstate the direct line.
"The halting of direct service between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv makes it very difficult for commuters between the two cities," reads the petition. It lists their complaints as follows: The length of the ride is unbearable (90 minutes from Malha to Tel Aviv's Hagana Station); passengers must go down stairs and through a small tunnel to transfer trains, re-exposing them to bad winter weather; the train experiences unnecessary delays, a symptom, the petition charges, of inefficient timetable management.
Even though she owns a car, Jerusalem resident Leah Rosen, one of the instigators of the petition, saw the train as the best option for commuting to her job at Tel Aviv University.
"I live in the southern part of Jerusalem, and it's easier to get to the Malha railway station than to the Central Bus Station. It's easier on the train to concentrate, get work done."
Since the change, she has been actively seeking other options, like forming a carpool. "If you claim that commuters from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv don't deserve a railroad, that they could take their cars and buses, then I think a value decision is being made here. You're leaving the people from Jerusalem in the lurch. You're saying these people aren't important."
She thinks the lack of immediate, effective commuting options may cause people to leave the city. "Does the mayor want people to leave Jerusalem?" she wonders.
When asked what the city is doing to improve commuting options between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, Gidi Schmerling, Jerusalem Municipality spokesman, offered the following statement: "The municipality works with the government in order to improve transportation to and from Jerusalem, including the new railway line and road number 9."
However, he explained that the government is responsible for most inter-city transport projects.
In a telephone interview, Avner Ovadia, spokesman of the Ministry of Transportation, responded to the complaint made by Jerusalem train commuters: "You have to provide a solution for the majority."
Serving Beit Shemesh, he clarifies, was a top factor in the decision to upgrade the line in the first place. "It was supposed to give an answer to Beit Shemesh and Tel Aviv in addition to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv," he says. "It's important to connect the capital of Israel to other cities. Once you connect it to Beit Shemesh, you connect it to the rest of the chain."
He adds that the upcoming high-speed line will not provide a solution for Beit Shemesh commuters.
Transportation consultant Hirsch sympathizes with the reasons behind the split. But, he adds, the train may have defeated its original purpose - to connect Jerusalem with Beit Shemesh. "Now it's easier for Beit Shemesh residents to travel to Tel Aviv. Once they would have come to Jerusalem."
THE TRAIN arrives in Beit Shemesh on time at 10:38 a.m. It's not rush hour, so the transfer goes smoothly. Passengers walk through a short tunnel to reach the next platform, where the train is waiting.
The carriages are fuller, with a ratio of about four seats per passenger. Jay Haberfield of Ramat Beit Shemesh is among them. He happened to have taken the off-peak train to his job at a bank in Tel Aviv. A few minutes into the ride, he fiddles with some paperwork, and shares his pleasure at the Israel Railways move to split the journey at Beit Shemesh.
"We were experiencing constant delays," he explains. "Before this change Beit Shemesh riders depended on trains coming from Jerusalem, and they constantly came in late five to 15 minutes every day."
As a case in point, he cites the train accident that occurred the day the split went into effect. "Had the change not gone into effect that day it would have been two to three hours late."
On top of that, inbound Jerusalem trains couldn't always accommodate all Beit Shemesh passengers since the winding tracks from Jerusalem and Beit Shemesh could only service trains with a limited number of cars. Now, at peak hours, the Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv line runs double-decker trains.
So far no statistics are available regarding any hike in the number of Beit Shemesh-Tel Aviv commuters as a result of the split. Any increase, however, has already come at the expense of some Jerusalem residents, rendering the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line even less frequented.
"I sometimes took the train until they stopped having the direct train," explains Benji, a commuter. "Now I'd have to take the train that leaves at 6:59 a.m. To do that, I'd have to leave my house a little after 6:30 a.m. and I'd get to the train station in Tel Aviv at around 8:30 a.m."
Since he doesn't own a car, he opted for the bus. Riding the bus now, he says, cuts the ride to Tel Aviv by about a half hour.
"The train would have been an option had they met their schedule before they made the split in Beit Shemesh. I would have taken the train much more often. At that point the extra five, 10 minutes made the time even longer, much too long."
A variety of factors affects commuters' decision to choose between train, bus, or car: economics, scheduling, location of residence in Jerusalem and location of Tel Aviv destination. But unless commuters live right near the start or end point, the length of the ride from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv is likely to reach three hours round-trip door to door, no matter which method is chosen.
Talpiot resident Hillel traveled via bus to, and a train from, his job at an insurance company in Tel Aviv before receiving a company car.
"The bus took about 80 to 90 minutes, sometimes a bit more. In the rain it took two and half hours, which was crazy. The train coming back always took 80 minutes, but I haven't taken it since they changed it. I couldn't bear to go now that you have to change trains."
Fortunately, he received the company car, whose relative value is deducted from his salary, not long before the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv split. But driving a car, he warns, is fraught with its fair share of annoyances. "It's too expensive to drive every day from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv and it's a nasty ride - it's long, dangerous and tiring."
His experience reveals that during rush hour, a driver is likely to sit in traffic for a minimum of 90 minutes. To avoid a long car ride, he makes a point to travel off-hours, but is now considering moving to Beit Shemesh, Modi'in or Ra'anana when his lease is up. "If I move to Beit Shemesh I'll take the train every day so I could make productive use of the time, for davening [praying] or working - and meeting people."
But some train commuters, like MBA student and Jerusalem resident Temima Taragin, aren't bothered enough by the split to give up on train transport. She still travels via train to her job right near the Hashalom Station.
"What I like about the train is that it's very quiet and I like doing my school work. This way I'm not distracted by other things at home - television, shopping. If you're there you might as well make the most of it."
(BOX #1) You decide!
For those commuters still unsure of the best way to get to Tel Aviv, here's a list of pros and cons:
Train
Pros:
1. The idyllic countryside between Beit Shemesh and Jerusalem
2. Tables and ample legroom for a comfortable ride
3. Environmental friendliness
4. The pleasant (and often empty) Malha Station
5. Patriotism
Cons:
1. Current length of ride (90 minutes)
2. No cellphone service for part of the ride
3. The price (NIS 19; round trip, NIS 34.50)
4. The new Beit Shemesh transfer
5. Infrequency (every hour from Jerusalem)
Bus
Pros:
1. On off-peak hours it takes only 50 minutes
2. Relative reliability
3. The price (NIS 17.70, round trip, NIS 30.10 )
4. Frequency of the lines (on average every 15 minutes)
5. Take part in a bona-fide Israeli experience
Cons:
1. The rowdy, crowded Central Bus Station
2. Feeling like a sardine inside the bus during rush hour
3. Car sickness
4. Inability to read or work
5. Risk of road congestion
Car
Pros:
1. Schedule control
2. AC control
3. Radio station, music control
4. Door to door service
5. Car also serves as intra-city transport
Cons:
1. Buying and maintaining a car
2. Cost of gas
3. Full concentration required
4. Parking worries
5. More dangerous than public transportation - O.A.
(BOX #2) Panacea or pain?
A number of transportation projects are currently in the works to provide long-term solutions to traffic, congestion and immobility within and en-route to Jerusalem. Some Jerusalem drivers complain that the construction involved in installing new roads and rails has only made city traffic less smooth and convenient. Time will tell whether or not these mass transportation investments will clear the path for better transport.
The High-Speed Railway
Israel Railways is currently paving the roads for the Jerusalem- Tel Aviv high-speed line, which will connect the two cities via Modi'in and Ben-Gurion Airport.
The project combines innovative transportation technology never before used in Israel, including the building of an underground train station at the Jerusalem International Convention Center and a tunnel 11.5 kilometers long.
Length of ride: 28 minutes Jerusalem-Tel Aviv; 17 minutes Tel Aviv-Mod'iin.
Frequency: Three trains per hour
Estimated completion of Tel Aviv-Modi'in line: October 2007
Estimated completion of Jerusalem-Tel Aviv line: 2011
Construction cost: NIS 4 billion
The Light Rail: The Red Line
The light rail, which last November laid its first track, is slated to make intra-city travel to the city center and the Central Bus Station more efficient and accessible. The first light rail will take passengers through 24 stations from Pisgat Ze'ev to Mount Herzl via the city center, and will serve more than 200,000 passengers a day on its 46 cars.
Length of ride: 28 minutes during rush hour
Frequency: Rush hour: every 4 minutes; Off-peak: every 8-12 minutes
Estimated completion: January 2009
Construction cost: NIS 4.3 billion
HGB High Grade Bus: The Blue Line
The Blue Line will connect north and south Jerusalem, from Gilo to Ramot via the city center, using an updated, state-of-the-art bus system. These new buses will feature hybrid engines and seating for 180 passengers. Traffic lights will change automatically to give immediate right of way to oncoming buses. Part of the infrastructure for this line is already in place and now serves regular Egged busses.
Length of ride: Approximately 30 minutes during rush hour
Frequency: Rush hour, every 3-5 minutes; off-peak, every 6-10 minutes
Estimated completion of infrastructure: August 2008
Construction cost: NIS 180 million (not including buses)
Route 9
Route 9 is currently being constructed to connect the Motza region to neighborhoods in northern Jerusalem via the intersection at Golda Meir Boulevard and the Begin highway. This road is designed to provide a new access point into the city from the main Jerusalem- Tel Aviv highway and therefore to ease congestion at the main Jerusalem entrance.
Construction Cost: NIS 480 million
Estimated completion: Jerusalem Day 2007
A love store story
Jerusalem Post, In Jerusalem; February 9, 2007
Lior Shabo, co-owner of Sense in the center of town, was a little nervous when he first opened his shop over two years ago and created a little counter for products meant to liven up bedroom activities, things like flavored erotic oils, games for couples, and body chocolate.
"We had many doubts in the beginning," he says. "We didn't know how the public would perceive this store."
Idit Ben-Haim, a pioneer in the Jerusalem "love" business, experienced similar doubts when opening Lo.Ve.La on bustling Rehov Emek Refaim in the summer of 2004. She soon found her doubts unfounded.
"When we opened, it took a while for people to say 'we're open- minded, we want to check it out,'" she says. "Now people are more eager."
Shabo and Ben Haim are now preparing for Valentine's Day, increasing their stock of love products - from heart shaped knick- knacks to sensual body creams - to accommodate a steadily growing, diverse clientele. Unlike classic sex shops, their stores have become an integrated, mainstream part of the city's commercial landscape.
The original intention of Shabo and his partner Tal Mizrahi, both 29 years old and self-proclaimed "romantics at birth," was to open a shop for spa, body, and home decor products. The duo soon realized that the Jerusalem market was more adventurous than originally predicted, and his little "love corner" soon grew into a separate department.
"People asked for more because they never really encountered such products," recalls Shabo. A year after the store opened, he knocked out the storage room upstairs and transformed it into a private area especially designed to house products that may make some Jerusalemites blush: edible panties, furry lingerie, and instruction books. He keeps a special drawer for vibrators and dildos. But Shabo is offended when his store is called a "sex shop."
"We don't deal with sex, but with foreplay, and the way for couples to express their feelings through this process," he explains.
Lo.Ve.La, a play on the words "love" and "lo ve'la" (in Hebrew "him and her") was a risque endeavor from the start. The 35-year- old entrepreneur left her job as a hotel events director to pursue this pent-up ambition.
Her vision was to create a space and atmosphere where women and couples of all cultural and religious orientations could walk in and, with little shame, receive advice not just about "love" products, but about creative ways to liven up their relationships. Gentle lighting, warm fabrics, decorative beads, and a friendly sales staff put customers at ease, making them feel as if they are walking into an elegant gift shop. The more hardcore items, like sex toys and dildos, however, are on display in a back room, available for examination upon request.
"I was afraid to sell sex toys in the store, then I realized that the demand was so great, I had to," she recalls. The idea of Lo.Ve.La caught on quickly, and she has set up mini "chains" of Lo.Ve.La products within gift and body care shops throughout the country. Even a gift shop on Rehov Sheinkin, Tel Aviv's trendy center, features a Lo.Ve.La corner.
That such shops, that approach the subject of intimacy without the potential sleaze, have made their home in the Holy City shouldn't come too much as a surprise.
"Jerusalem is very different than Tel Aviv," explains Ben Haim. "They don't speak the same language. In Tel Aviv you can go to a club and they have 'S&M' night What's nice in Jerusalem is that there are still values. In Tel Aviv nothing's sacred anymore."
The religious community, in fact, is a natural market for products meant to enhance sexual activity within relationships, at least "kosher" ones.
Satisfying intimacy in marriage is an important value among religious couples, says certified sex counselor and urogynecological physical therapist Talli Y. Rosenbaum, who is modern Orthodox. "Every woman - it really doesn't matter if she's religious or not - is entitled to enhance her sexuality and, as a result, improve the intimacy as a couple. It would not be surprising that religious women, like any woman, would want to do what they can to enhance the intimacy of their sex lives."
This includes the use of oils, games, and vibrators. "Religious couples generally approach sexuality and intimacy with a sense of privacy and modesty, values which I advocate."
As a result, love products and dildos should be packaged tastefully and discreetly if they are to appeal to a religious community, but Rosenbaum cautions, "They should be used to enhance marital intimacy and not as a substitute for a healthy sexual relationship."
A conservative approach to sex aides is taken by Rabbi Elyashiv Knohl, author of Ish V'isha (translated literally, Man and Woman), a halachic guidebook for religious couples. He is not familiar with love shops, but thinks that the use of tools like vibrators need not apply to couples with healthy relationships.
"These things are for couples that need some kind of treatment," he says. "I don't see them as a tool for a couple that, thank God, functions normally A couple should find interest in each other. They don't need outside stimulation."
Walking into such love or sex shops doesn't require a rabbi's approval; the question is what they purchase. If a couple is having intimacy problems, he suggests that they consult their rabbi.
Rosenbaum, who also treats women with sexual problems, is often referred to by rabbis. She believes that certain sexual tools may be helpful, but adds: "I would hesitate to send them directly to a sex shop. I work with suppliers who deal with these products in a discreet and modest manner."
Beverley Damelin, a sex educator who runs workshops in Jerusalem and founding editor of dinahproject.com, a sex information Web site, offers consumer advice to potential "love" and sex shop patrons.
She recommends researching products to make informed purchases. "Stores can be helpful and a lot of fun, and there is something very positive to be gained with experimenting, but you may not necessarily be getting the right information," she says, explaining that salespeople are often not qualified health specialists.
"When you have people who come into a store who don't do this very often, they are often gullible and can be talked into buying unsuitable products from people with little authority on this subject."
And for those who have no partner for whom to buy something on Valentine's Day, she offers some words of comfort.
"Valentine's Day can be an abuse of commercialism, and so many people are made to feel inadequate by it, rather than better. If there is something you might want, why not get it for yourself?"
Lior Shabo, co-owner of Sense in the center of town, was a little nervous when he first opened his shop over two years ago and created a little counter for products meant to liven up bedroom activities, things like flavored erotic oils, games for couples, and body chocolate.
"We had many doubts in the beginning," he says. "We didn't know how the public would perceive this store."
Idit Ben-Haim, a pioneer in the Jerusalem "love" business, experienced similar doubts when opening Lo.Ve.La on bustling Rehov Emek Refaim in the summer of 2004. She soon found her doubts unfounded.
"When we opened, it took a while for people to say 'we're open- minded, we want to check it out,'" she says. "Now people are more eager."
Shabo and Ben Haim are now preparing for Valentine's Day, increasing their stock of love products - from heart shaped knick- knacks to sensual body creams - to accommodate a steadily growing, diverse clientele. Unlike classic sex shops, their stores have become an integrated, mainstream part of the city's commercial landscape.
The original intention of Shabo and his partner Tal Mizrahi, both 29 years old and self-proclaimed "romantics at birth," was to open a shop for spa, body, and home decor products. The duo soon realized that the Jerusalem market was more adventurous than originally predicted, and his little "love corner" soon grew into a separate department.
"People asked for more because they never really encountered such products," recalls Shabo. A year after the store opened, he knocked out the storage room upstairs and transformed it into a private area especially designed to house products that may make some Jerusalemites blush: edible panties, furry lingerie, and instruction books. He keeps a special drawer for vibrators and dildos. But Shabo is offended when his store is called a "sex shop."
"We don't deal with sex, but with foreplay, and the way for couples to express their feelings through this process," he explains.
Lo.Ve.La, a play on the words "love" and "lo ve'la" (in Hebrew "him and her") was a risque endeavor from the start. The 35-year- old entrepreneur left her job as a hotel events director to pursue this pent-up ambition.
Her vision was to create a space and atmosphere where women and couples of all cultural and religious orientations could walk in and, with little shame, receive advice not just about "love" products, but about creative ways to liven up their relationships. Gentle lighting, warm fabrics, decorative beads, and a friendly sales staff put customers at ease, making them feel as if they are walking into an elegant gift shop. The more hardcore items, like sex toys and dildos, however, are on display in a back room, available for examination upon request.
"I was afraid to sell sex toys in the store, then I realized that the demand was so great, I had to," she recalls. The idea of Lo.Ve.La caught on quickly, and she has set up mini "chains" of Lo.Ve.La products within gift and body care shops throughout the country. Even a gift shop on Rehov Sheinkin, Tel Aviv's trendy center, features a Lo.Ve.La corner.
That such shops, that approach the subject of intimacy without the potential sleaze, have made their home in the Holy City shouldn't come too much as a surprise.
"Jerusalem is very different than Tel Aviv," explains Ben Haim. "They don't speak the same language. In Tel Aviv you can go to a club and they have 'S&M' night What's nice in Jerusalem is that there are still values. In Tel Aviv nothing's sacred anymore."
The religious community, in fact, is a natural market for products meant to enhance sexual activity within relationships, at least "kosher" ones.
Satisfying intimacy in marriage is an important value among religious couples, says certified sex counselor and urogynecological physical therapist Talli Y. Rosenbaum, who is modern Orthodox. "Every woman - it really doesn't matter if she's religious or not - is entitled to enhance her sexuality and, as a result, improve the intimacy as a couple. It would not be surprising that religious women, like any woman, would want to do what they can to enhance the intimacy of their sex lives."
This includes the use of oils, games, and vibrators. "Religious couples generally approach sexuality and intimacy with a sense of privacy and modesty, values which I advocate."
As a result, love products and dildos should be packaged tastefully and discreetly if they are to appeal to a religious community, but Rosenbaum cautions, "They should be used to enhance marital intimacy and not as a substitute for a healthy sexual relationship."
A conservative approach to sex aides is taken by Rabbi Elyashiv Knohl, author of Ish V'isha (translated literally, Man and Woman), a halachic guidebook for religious couples. He is not familiar with love shops, but thinks that the use of tools like vibrators need not apply to couples with healthy relationships.
"These things are for couples that need some kind of treatment," he says. "I don't see them as a tool for a couple that, thank God, functions normally A couple should find interest in each other. They don't need outside stimulation."
Walking into such love or sex shops doesn't require a rabbi's approval; the question is what they purchase. If a couple is having intimacy problems, he suggests that they consult their rabbi.
Rosenbaum, who also treats women with sexual problems, is often referred to by rabbis. She believes that certain sexual tools may be helpful, but adds: "I would hesitate to send them directly to a sex shop. I work with suppliers who deal with these products in a discreet and modest manner."
Beverley Damelin, a sex educator who runs workshops in Jerusalem and founding editor of dinahproject.com, a sex information Web site, offers consumer advice to potential "love" and sex shop patrons.
She recommends researching products to make informed purchases. "Stores can be helpful and a lot of fun, and there is something very positive to be gained with experimenting, but you may not necessarily be getting the right information," she says, explaining that salespeople are often not qualified health specialists.
"When you have people who come into a store who don't do this very often, they are often gullible and can be talked into buying unsuitable products from people with little authority on this subject."
And for those who have no partner for whom to buy something on Valentine's Day, she offers some words of comfort.
"Valentine's Day can be an abuse of commercialism, and so many people are made to feel inadequate by it, rather than better. If there is something you might want, why not get it for yourself?"
Sunday, January 21, 2007
A reality show with a wider bite
Jerusalem Post, Daily; Jan. 21, 2007;
In Israel's latest original reality show, you won't see ambitious teenagers singing, agile dancers pirouetting, romance-seekers kissing, or, as is the case with Uri Geller's new hit program, mentalists reading minds of celebrities. In fact, you won't see anything at all. This reality show is broadcast over the radio to religious families, many of whom don't own televisions. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't be watching A Star is Born or Born to Dance, which are replete with costumes and performances that offend religious sensibilities.
A Life of Riches and Honor, which premiered January 4 on Radio Kol Chai, Israel's highest-rated religious radio station, is much less glamorous than the reality blockbusters on TV. That's because this reality show deals with biting reality. Over the course of 10 weeks, 13 families representing a cross section of the religious spectrum, from religious Zionist to haredi (Ultra Orthodox), must prove they can run their household more economically and efficiently than the rest. A commercial teaser lures in listeners with household tips, such as: "Don't go supermarket shopping when you're hungry."
"In the religious community, especially the haredi communities, people don't have televisions at home. Whereas a secular person comes home after work and turns on the TV to watch news, a religious person comes home and turns on the radio," says Ido Lebovitz, CEO of Radio Kol Chai.
"We wanted to give our listeners a program that was useful, not mere entertainment." In fact, entertainment for entertainment's sake is not a desired value among very religious families.
"There is no recreation within haredim communities," explains Avinoam Hadas, strategic advisor to Kol Chai. Hadas assists the radio station with adapting modern broadcasting and entertainment trends to the needs and restrictions of religious communities as well as advising businesses on how to penetrate and cater to the religious market. Television is not only potentially immodest, he adds, it's also bitul Torah (a waste of Torah study time). "If you have free time, you study Torah."
To maintain its edge among Israel's religious population, Kol Chai adopted the reality format to help its listeners solve real-life, pressing household dilemmas. Producers chose 13 families among 100 applicants based on their profile, expressiveness, and drive not only to win, but to solve their financial troubles.
The profile of some families makes the show sound like a religious version of the American reality hit, Survivor. Family A with seven children ages three to 14 must survive on a joint salary of NIS 10,700. To make the mortgage payment of NIS 3,000 and to put food on the table, the father states: "We don't pay for things we don't use right away [such as school tuition, which he avoided paying for over a year]. I'm afraid of confiscations, but I have no choice."
Family C with 12 children ages four to 24 barely manages off a joint salary of NIS 8,300. "We try to maneuver here and there. We try to cut. The kids don't have after-school activities."
A LIFE of Riches and Honor forces these families to figure out how to cut costs and get out of the hole. At the second "taping" of the show on January 11 at the Kol Chai studios in Bnei Brak, all the contestants shared, on air over the phone, their experience overcoming the first, real, most basic challenge: purchasing weekly groceries while adhering to an individually customized budget provided by the producers.
"We tried to cut and buy only what we need, not just what was within hand's reach, but to think before buying," one contestant concluded. "We tried to buy more with less," said another.
In the studio, a panel of experts from the show's sponsors, Bank Poalei Agudat Yisrael, which caters to the religious community, sat around a table with the show's presenter and judged the contestants' shopping prudence. Producers keep detailed records of the contestants' finances and compile figures comparing their new spending habits with the old. The experts, along with the contestants and callers from home, offered their own tips, such as: "Don't take the kids shopping, and if you do, don't be afraid to say 'no'" and "Always go shopping with a list."
Listeners at home and the show's panel of experts and judges will vote for the winners based on their ability to cut costs. Unlike television shows, looks and charisma cannot bias the voters. At the end of each show, one family is sent back to its poorly managed home. The first place winner receives NIS 20,000 worth of electrical appliances-not a bad way to ease some financial woes.
But Lebovitz maintains, "The point is not to find a winner, but to increase awareness. The real winners are the hundreds of thousands of people who learn to save."
And while the reality show is a far cry from Donald Trump's Apprentice, the contestants could probably learn a thing or two from the business mogul.
As one judge on the show put it: "Running a family household is a business in every way."
A Life of Riches and Honor is broadcast on Thursday from 8-9pm on Radio Kol Chai, 93 FM.
In Israel's latest original reality show, you won't see ambitious teenagers singing, agile dancers pirouetting, romance-seekers kissing, or, as is the case with Uri Geller's new hit program, mentalists reading minds of celebrities. In fact, you won't see anything at all. This reality show is broadcast over the radio to religious families, many of whom don't own televisions. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't be watching A Star is Born or Born to Dance, which are replete with costumes and performances that offend religious sensibilities.
A Life of Riches and Honor, which premiered January 4 on Radio Kol Chai, Israel's highest-rated religious radio station, is much less glamorous than the reality blockbusters on TV. That's because this reality show deals with biting reality. Over the course of 10 weeks, 13 families representing a cross section of the religious spectrum, from religious Zionist to haredi (Ultra Orthodox), must prove they can run their household more economically and efficiently than the rest. A commercial teaser lures in listeners with household tips, such as: "Don't go supermarket shopping when you're hungry."
"In the religious community, especially the haredi communities, people don't have televisions at home. Whereas a secular person comes home after work and turns on the TV to watch news, a religious person comes home and turns on the radio," says Ido Lebovitz, CEO of Radio Kol Chai.
"We wanted to give our listeners a program that was useful, not mere entertainment." In fact, entertainment for entertainment's sake is not a desired value among very religious families.
"There is no recreation within haredim communities," explains Avinoam Hadas, strategic advisor to Kol Chai. Hadas assists the radio station with adapting modern broadcasting and entertainment trends to the needs and restrictions of religious communities as well as advising businesses on how to penetrate and cater to the religious market. Television is not only potentially immodest, he adds, it's also bitul Torah (a waste of Torah study time). "If you have free time, you study Torah."
To maintain its edge among Israel's religious population, Kol Chai adopted the reality format to help its listeners solve real-life, pressing household dilemmas. Producers chose 13 families among 100 applicants based on their profile, expressiveness, and drive not only to win, but to solve their financial troubles.
The profile of some families makes the show sound like a religious version of the American reality hit, Survivor. Family A with seven children ages three to 14 must survive on a joint salary of NIS 10,700. To make the mortgage payment of NIS 3,000 and to put food on the table, the father states: "We don't pay for things we don't use right away [such as school tuition, which he avoided paying for over a year]. I'm afraid of confiscations, but I have no choice."
Family C with 12 children ages four to 24 barely manages off a joint salary of NIS 8,300. "We try to maneuver here and there. We try to cut. The kids don't have after-school activities."
A LIFE of Riches and Honor forces these families to figure out how to cut costs and get out of the hole. At the second "taping" of the show on January 11 at the Kol Chai studios in Bnei Brak, all the contestants shared, on air over the phone, their experience overcoming the first, real, most basic challenge: purchasing weekly groceries while adhering to an individually customized budget provided by the producers.
"We tried to cut and buy only what we need, not just what was within hand's reach, but to think before buying," one contestant concluded. "We tried to buy more with less," said another.
In the studio, a panel of experts from the show's sponsors, Bank Poalei Agudat Yisrael, which caters to the religious community, sat around a table with the show's presenter and judged the contestants' shopping prudence. Producers keep detailed records of the contestants' finances and compile figures comparing their new spending habits with the old. The experts, along with the contestants and callers from home, offered their own tips, such as: "Don't take the kids shopping, and if you do, don't be afraid to say 'no'" and "Always go shopping with a list."
Listeners at home and the show's panel of experts and judges will vote for the winners based on their ability to cut costs. Unlike television shows, looks and charisma cannot bias the voters. At the end of each show, one family is sent back to its poorly managed home. The first place winner receives NIS 20,000 worth of electrical appliances-not a bad way to ease some financial woes.
But Lebovitz maintains, "The point is not to find a winner, but to increase awareness. The real winners are the hundreds of thousands of people who learn to save."
And while the reality show is a far cry from Donald Trump's Apprentice, the contestants could probably learn a thing or two from the business mogul.
As one judge on the show put it: "Running a family household is a business in every way."
A Life of Riches and Honor is broadcast on Thursday from 8-9pm on Radio Kol Chai, 93 FM.
Friday, January 19, 2007
A novel idea
Jerusalem Post, In Jerusalem; January 19, 2007
While Maggie Anton is a lover of fiction, she probably would have never believed that one day she'd be embarking on a whirlwind speaking tour as the author of her own historical novel. But early this month, the former chemist from California spoke at various educational institutes and community centers throughout Israel about book one of Rashi's Daughters, a trilogy that dramatizes the lives of the progeny of the most famous Jewish biblical commentator.
In Jerusalem caught up with Anton before her talk at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies to find out how she turned from a full-time clinical chemist who worked for 30 years at Kaiser Permanente Hospital to a sought-after speaker and author, with Penguin and HarperCollins waging bidding wars over her next installment.
"To my incredible surprise I fell in love with Talmud study," Anton says of her initial foray into Talmud with Jewish feminist scholar Rachel Adler in Los Angeles. Until then, she was little versed in Jewish scholarship or tradition, having grown up in a secular socialist household in LA, where she currently resides.
The idea of the book grew organically over several years, fueled by her independent study of Rashi's daughters and the era in which they lived.
"I was trying to find out if Rashi's daughters really wore tefillin or not," explains Anton, who belongs to both Conservative and Reform synagogues, but doesn't officially affiliate herself with any movement. "The legend says that Rashi's daughters wore them, but there is no evidence to say for sure they did. We know some women in Rashi's time wore tefillin, tzitzit, blew shofar. There were also mohalot who performed ritual circumcisions."
Her interest in Rashi's daughters turned into a fascination about the lifestyle and oft liberal Jewish observance of French Jewish medieval women. To uncover facts and curiosities about this era, in her spare time she spent hours at local libraries, including those at UCLA and at the University of Judaism, formerly associated with the Conservative Movement.
A tour of Troyes in the Champagne region of northern France and its Jewish quarter, which is decorated with a monument to Rashi, provided her with a picture of the community - its clothing, food and customs - well-described in her book.
"As I was telling people what I was doing, somehow I guess someone said to me, 'This is so interesting, you should write a book," she says, adding, "My children told me to stop 'hoching' them about Rashi and his daughters and told me I should write a book; they didn't want to hear me anymore."
Rashi's Daughters is a chronicle of Jewish community life in Troyes at the start of the second millennium as much as it is a story of Jocheved and her sisters, Miriam and Rachel (books two and three focus on the latter, respectively). The backdrop of Jocheved's life, from her love for Talmud study as a little girl until the early years of her marriage to Torah scholar Meir, is as central to the novel as its plot.
The novel describes Rashi's career as a winemaker, his role as a teacher and head of the Troyes yeshiva and his family's cordial relations with Jewish and non-Jewish neighbors. Also figuring in the plot are little-known customs of the time such as annual merchant fairs, Jewish ownership of slaves and the widespread use of herbal love and healing potions. Anton was keen to illustrate the relative prosperity of Jews at the time.
"It was so different than all the 'oy vey' stuff you get in Jewish history. I wanted to share it, celebrate it," she says.
Anton has found that the success of the novel is partly based on the interest of readers in a time period never explored in fiction. So far the novel has sold over 25,000 copies and is already in its sixth printing.
While Anton had secured a literary agent for book one, she decided to establish Banot Press with her husband to publish the book in time for Rashi's 900th yahrzeit in 2005. She was surprised to find that the only extensive commemoration of his death occurred in his native French community. In fact, France issued a half-Euro stamp in honor of Rashi, a historical figure in his homeland.
At times, Rashi's Daughters reads more like a romance novel than an in-depth examination of the cultural, theological and philosophical issues that may have underpinned the lives of Jewish women. Steamy sex scenes between the headstrong, learned Jocheved and her young, scholarly husband are described in detail, and the central conflict deals more with Jocheved's struggles bearing children rather than her clandestine Talmud study. Although, says Anton, the sex in the book is not without its religious grounding.
"In the Talmud there are sections that talk about the quality of a child as proportional to the quality of the sex act that conceives that child," she notes. "The better the child, the better the sex you had."
Later this year, Penguin (the winner) will release book two and JPS will release a young adult version of book one.
While Maggie Anton is a lover of fiction, she probably would have never believed that one day she'd be embarking on a whirlwind speaking tour as the author of her own historical novel. But early this month, the former chemist from California spoke at various educational institutes and community centers throughout Israel about book one of Rashi's Daughters, a trilogy that dramatizes the lives of the progeny of the most famous Jewish biblical commentator.
In Jerusalem caught up with Anton before her talk at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies to find out how she turned from a full-time clinical chemist who worked for 30 years at Kaiser Permanente Hospital to a sought-after speaker and author, with Penguin and HarperCollins waging bidding wars over her next installment.
"To my incredible surprise I fell in love with Talmud study," Anton says of her initial foray into Talmud with Jewish feminist scholar Rachel Adler in Los Angeles. Until then, she was little versed in Jewish scholarship or tradition, having grown up in a secular socialist household in LA, where she currently resides.
The idea of the book grew organically over several years, fueled by her independent study of Rashi's daughters and the era in which they lived.
"I was trying to find out if Rashi's daughters really wore tefillin or not," explains Anton, who belongs to both Conservative and Reform synagogues, but doesn't officially affiliate herself with any movement. "The legend says that Rashi's daughters wore them, but there is no evidence to say for sure they did. We know some women in Rashi's time wore tefillin, tzitzit, blew shofar. There were also mohalot who performed ritual circumcisions."
Her interest in Rashi's daughters turned into a fascination about the lifestyle and oft liberal Jewish observance of French Jewish medieval women. To uncover facts and curiosities about this era, in her spare time she spent hours at local libraries, including those at UCLA and at the University of Judaism, formerly associated with the Conservative Movement.
A tour of Troyes in the Champagne region of northern France and its Jewish quarter, which is decorated with a monument to Rashi, provided her with a picture of the community - its clothing, food and customs - well-described in her book.
"As I was telling people what I was doing, somehow I guess someone said to me, 'This is so interesting, you should write a book," she says, adding, "My children told me to stop 'hoching' them about Rashi and his daughters and told me I should write a book; they didn't want to hear me anymore."
Rashi's Daughters is a chronicle of Jewish community life in Troyes at the start of the second millennium as much as it is a story of Jocheved and her sisters, Miriam and Rachel (books two and three focus on the latter, respectively). The backdrop of Jocheved's life, from her love for Talmud study as a little girl until the early years of her marriage to Torah scholar Meir, is as central to the novel as its plot.
The novel describes Rashi's career as a winemaker, his role as a teacher and head of the Troyes yeshiva and his family's cordial relations with Jewish and non-Jewish neighbors. Also figuring in the plot are little-known customs of the time such as annual merchant fairs, Jewish ownership of slaves and the widespread use of herbal love and healing potions. Anton was keen to illustrate the relative prosperity of Jews at the time.
"It was so different than all the 'oy vey' stuff you get in Jewish history. I wanted to share it, celebrate it," she says.
Anton has found that the success of the novel is partly based on the interest of readers in a time period never explored in fiction. So far the novel has sold over 25,000 copies and is already in its sixth printing.
While Anton had secured a literary agent for book one, she decided to establish Banot Press with her husband to publish the book in time for Rashi's 900th yahrzeit in 2005. She was surprised to find that the only extensive commemoration of his death occurred in his native French community. In fact, France issued a half-Euro stamp in honor of Rashi, a historical figure in his homeland.
At times, Rashi's Daughters reads more like a romance novel than an in-depth examination of the cultural, theological and philosophical issues that may have underpinned the lives of Jewish women. Steamy sex scenes between the headstrong, learned Jocheved and her young, scholarly husband are described in detail, and the central conflict deals more with Jocheved's struggles bearing children rather than her clandestine Talmud study. Although, says Anton, the sex in the book is not without its religious grounding.
"In the Talmud there are sections that talk about the quality of a child as proportional to the quality of the sex act that conceives that child," she notes. "The better the child, the better the sex you had."
Later this year, Penguin (the winner) will release book two and JPS will release a young adult version of book one.
A winning shot
Jerusalem Post, Metro; January 19, 2007
Shay Koren, the winner of the 9th annual national bartending contest at Tel Aviv's Whiskey A Go-Go, is off to compete in Finland later this month.
Prior to preparing his guava martini with red grapefruit, Shay Koren meticulously cut a guava star topped with caramel made from brown and white sugar. This artistic piece of fruit served as the finishing touch of his yummy long drink, which he prepared as part of the national bartending competition held January 8 at the Whiskey A Go- Go mega bar located at the Tel Aviv port. Koren's creativity and presentation wooed the judges, and he will represent Israel at the international Finlandia bartending competition January 29 in Finland.
The national competition has become an annual tradition since Israel starting competing in Finlandia's international competition four years ago, said Shmulik Wohoberg, brand manager for Ackermann, Israel's largest alcohol importer and competition sponsor. Wohoberg was among the judges in the semi-final rounds, in which he and Ackermann representatives toured bars around Israel for three months to find those who could mix drinks with the most originality and style.
"It was important to go to their home environment, the bar where he or she worked," explained Wohoberg, who also served as the competition's MC.
Twelve bartenders were chosen out of 100 semi-finalists to wow the judges in their preparation of three categories of alcoholic beverages: aperitif, digestif and long drink.
Spirits were naturally high at Whiskey A Go-Go during the informal competition, which had nine judges, made up of alcohol experts, bartending school faculty and culinary journalists, sitting at the bar munching sushi while competitors strutted their bottles. Friends, family and owners of bars represented in the competition stood around the stations to cheer on their favorites and taste the results. Some even brought signs to show support.
"We give scores according to five different criteria: the look of the cocktail, the taste, the aroma, the performance and conduct of the bartender; and a general grade for creativity," explained Ariel Leisgold, beverage manager of Moses restaurant chain and last year's winner. He took home first place in Finlandia's aperitif competition.
The competition flowed speedily with twelve lightening rounds. The bar was divided into three sections for each drink category. All drinks were required to include Finlandia vodka as the base and were limited to six ingredients. Many of the contestants brought ingredients from home, like marzipan decor, exotic fruits, and sorbet.
Gadi Avekases, director of Bartender bartending school, however, said that the contest environment wasn't conducive to judging elements which are crucial to a successful bartender: "You have to feel comfortable with the bartender. He or she has to know how to serve, when to talk to the customers and when to be quiet - to create chemistry."
Hardly any of the bartenders demonstrated the skill of, say, Tom Cruise in the film Cocktail, in which he fancily juggled bottles and glasses. In fact, many of the bartenders, whose hands were shaking from nerves, spilled drinks on the counter while pouring. This was no beauty contest, either, even though it helps for a bartender to have good looks to lure in bargoers. The bartenders weren't particularly beautiful or charismatic, nor did they dress to impress. Many competed in casual day clothes.
The tall and dark Koren, a bartender at Moses restaurant in Herzliya, however, demonstrated superiority in both preparation and taste. He experimented with various ingredients until he came up with the winning cocktails, including a martini mango made with ground mango, vanilla, and lime and a digestif made with vanilla sauce, vodka and coffee liquor.
However, could the judgment of the judges have been impaired after sipping twelve cocktails each? "We don't drink too much, just taste," said Avekases. "I'd love to get a drink but this is not the time."
Mira Eitan, editor of Wine and Gourmet, justified the choice of the winner: "He was the most creative, his ingredients were interesting, and his work ability was good, his presentation was interesting. He was abovethe others."
A law student at the Academic College in Rishon Lezion, Koren has been working as a bartender for five years. And while he seems to have a bartending career ahead of him, bartending remains for him a serious hobby.
"Today in Israel working as a bartender is like working as a waiter," he said. "Maybe it will develop in a few years and bartenders can make it a profession. It's possible that when I finish studies I'll consider the field of bartending and restaurants."
(BOX) What is an aperitif, digestif and long drink?
For those who don't like or know how to drink, Mira Eitan, editor of Wine and Gourmet and the only female judge at the competition, explains the difference between the three kinds of drinks judged at the competition.
"An aperitif is a drink you sip before eating. Aperitifs are characterized by several elements. They have low alcohol content so you don't get drunk before eating. They are not too sweet since sweetness makes you feel full. They are usually served cold to whet the appetite."
Classic aperitifs include: rum, campari, martini, cinzano; cocktails include manhattan and cosmopolitan.
"A digestif is drunk after the meal to aid digestion (hence its name), and comes in two types: functional, which helps us digest because it is made up of herbs; and classic, like cognac and whiskey, with a high alcohol percentage to relax after the meal."
Popular digestifs include: cognac, jagermeister, fernet branca, grand marnier and drambuie; cocktails include rusty nail and white Russian.
"A long drink is one that you drink in any context, like at a bar. It combines alcohol with non-alcoholic ingredients so that they can be drunk at any time, often not in the context of a meal, without being too strong or heavy."
Shay Koren, the winner of the 9th annual national bartending contest at Tel Aviv's Whiskey A Go-Go, is off to compete in Finland later this month.
Prior to preparing his guava martini with red grapefruit, Shay Koren meticulously cut a guava star topped with caramel made from brown and white sugar. This artistic piece of fruit served as the finishing touch of his yummy long drink, which he prepared as part of the national bartending competition held January 8 at the Whiskey A Go- Go mega bar located at the Tel Aviv port. Koren's creativity and presentation wooed the judges, and he will represent Israel at the international Finlandia bartending competition January 29 in Finland.
The national competition has become an annual tradition since Israel starting competing in Finlandia's international competition four years ago, said Shmulik Wohoberg, brand manager for Ackermann, Israel's largest alcohol importer and competition sponsor. Wohoberg was among the judges in the semi-final rounds, in which he and Ackermann representatives toured bars around Israel for three months to find those who could mix drinks with the most originality and style.
"It was important to go to their home environment, the bar where he or she worked," explained Wohoberg, who also served as the competition's MC.
Twelve bartenders were chosen out of 100 semi-finalists to wow the judges in their preparation of three categories of alcoholic beverages: aperitif, digestif and long drink.
Spirits were naturally high at Whiskey A Go-Go during the informal competition, which had nine judges, made up of alcohol experts, bartending school faculty and culinary journalists, sitting at the bar munching sushi while competitors strutted their bottles. Friends, family and owners of bars represented in the competition stood around the stations to cheer on their favorites and taste the results. Some even brought signs to show support.
"We give scores according to five different criteria: the look of the cocktail, the taste, the aroma, the performance and conduct of the bartender; and a general grade for creativity," explained Ariel Leisgold, beverage manager of Moses restaurant chain and last year's winner. He took home first place in Finlandia's aperitif competition.
The competition flowed speedily with twelve lightening rounds. The bar was divided into three sections for each drink category. All drinks were required to include Finlandia vodka as the base and were limited to six ingredients. Many of the contestants brought ingredients from home, like marzipan decor, exotic fruits, and sorbet.
Gadi Avekases, director of Bartender bartending school, however, said that the contest environment wasn't conducive to judging elements which are crucial to a successful bartender: "You have to feel comfortable with the bartender. He or she has to know how to serve, when to talk to the customers and when to be quiet - to create chemistry."
Hardly any of the bartenders demonstrated the skill of, say, Tom Cruise in the film Cocktail, in which he fancily juggled bottles and glasses. In fact, many of the bartenders, whose hands were shaking from nerves, spilled drinks on the counter while pouring. This was no beauty contest, either, even though it helps for a bartender to have good looks to lure in bargoers. The bartenders weren't particularly beautiful or charismatic, nor did they dress to impress. Many competed in casual day clothes.
The tall and dark Koren, a bartender at Moses restaurant in Herzliya, however, demonstrated superiority in both preparation and taste. He experimented with various ingredients until he came up with the winning cocktails, including a martini mango made with ground mango, vanilla, and lime and a digestif made with vanilla sauce, vodka and coffee liquor.
However, could the judgment of the judges have been impaired after sipping twelve cocktails each? "We don't drink too much, just taste," said Avekases. "I'd love to get a drink but this is not the time."
Mira Eitan, editor of Wine and Gourmet, justified the choice of the winner: "He was the most creative, his ingredients were interesting, and his work ability was good, his presentation was interesting. He was abovethe others."
A law student at the Academic College in Rishon Lezion, Koren has been working as a bartender for five years. And while he seems to have a bartending career ahead of him, bartending remains for him a serious hobby.
"Today in Israel working as a bartender is like working as a waiter," he said. "Maybe it will develop in a few years and bartenders can make it a profession. It's possible that when I finish studies I'll consider the field of bartending and restaurants."
(BOX) What is an aperitif, digestif and long drink?
For those who don't like or know how to drink, Mira Eitan, editor of Wine and Gourmet and the only female judge at the competition, explains the difference between the three kinds of drinks judged at the competition.
"An aperitif is a drink you sip before eating. Aperitifs are characterized by several elements. They have low alcohol content so you don't get drunk before eating. They are not too sweet since sweetness makes you feel full. They are usually served cold to whet the appetite."
Classic aperitifs include: rum, campari, martini, cinzano; cocktails include manhattan and cosmopolitan.
"A digestif is drunk after the meal to aid digestion (hence its name), and comes in two types: functional, which helps us digest because it is made up of herbs; and classic, like cognac and whiskey, with a high alcohol percentage to relax after the meal."
Popular digestifs include: cognac, jagermeister, fernet branca, grand marnier and drambuie; cocktails include rusty nail and white Russian.
"A long drink is one that you drink in any context, like at a bar. It combines alcohol with non-alcoholic ingredients so that they can be drunk at any time, often not in the context of a meal, without being too strong or heavy."
Friday, January 12, 2007
For surreal clubbing (dance bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; January 12, 2007
You know a Tel Aviv nightclub is ultracool when it opens not at midnight but just past 1 o'clock in the morning.
At 00:50, I get to Dada - rated by Time Out as the second best Tel Aviv nightclub of 2006 - and a buff, short Russian security guard wearing a puffy black jacket tells me the place is closed (as in, not open for the night), implying with a condescending tone that I'm an undesired element. But a nicer guard, who lacked the Russian's pretentiousness, assured me that they would open in 10 minutes.
Despite the police station in the area, Dada is located on a street where you would not feel comfortable walking alone at night. The area is grungy, dingy and industrial, making you feel that at any moment some drug addict might panhandle you. So after shooting an espresso at Aroma across the way on Yehuda Halevi Street, I head back to Dada, ready to find out what all the fuss is about.
The club is empty, even at 1:10 am. Some "happening" club.
"It won't fill up until 3 a.m.," the cashier informs me.
Going downstairs to get to the dance floor, I already get the sense that this is the underground of Tel Aviv nightlife, in part because the place feels like a cellar with its low ceiling, long rectangular dance floor, minimal lighting, simple gray and black design, and a DJ booth located at eye level.
As East Village-esque Tel Avivians begin to filter in to the filtered electronic bass lines, it becomes clear that this is a place where sounds, looks, moves and touch matter more than words. Not surprisingly, as I seek one of the owners to get the scoop on Dada, he is reticent, probably because the less people know about Dada, the more allure and exclusivity it maintains.
Gal (it would be poor etiquette to ask his last name) says the point of the place is to bring back the glory of Tel Aviv's nightlife scene, which translates into: the hottest DJs, parties that begin late and end past six in the morning, gay friendliness, and well-dressed, well- tattooed and well-pierced late 20 and 30+ year-olds (as opposed to "kids" and soldiers). Dada already has a successful model, The Breakfast Club on Rothschild Street, founded in 2005 by the same owners, which quickly rose as Tel Aviv's trendy epicenter.
The main feature of Dada, Gal says, is the music. The electro, progressive house and generally dark beats and basses fit any and all forms of unconventional intoxication, to the extent that Dada can easily turn into a surreal fantasyland of sensation.
But as I leave, it becomes clear that either I came on a bad night or Dada's goal to attract the beautiful bohemia of Tel Aviv has backfired. Waiting in line to be selected were dozens of freaky- looking guys (and hardly any women) with frightening hairdos, pimply skin, bad tattoos, and gruff manners. The crazy thing was that most of them waltzed right in. Surreal, indeed.
Harakevet 6. Open Thursday, Friday from 1 a.m. Music: Electro, progressive house, techno. Cover: NIS 30-50
You know a Tel Aviv nightclub is ultracool when it opens not at midnight but just past 1 o'clock in the morning.
At 00:50, I get to Dada - rated by Time Out as the second best Tel Aviv nightclub of 2006 - and a buff, short Russian security guard wearing a puffy black jacket tells me the place is closed (as in, not open for the night), implying with a condescending tone that I'm an undesired element. But a nicer guard, who lacked the Russian's pretentiousness, assured me that they would open in 10 minutes.
Despite the police station in the area, Dada is located on a street where you would not feel comfortable walking alone at night. The area is grungy, dingy and industrial, making you feel that at any moment some drug addict might panhandle you. So after shooting an espresso at Aroma across the way on Yehuda Halevi Street, I head back to Dada, ready to find out what all the fuss is about.
The club is empty, even at 1:10 am. Some "happening" club.
"It won't fill up until 3 a.m.," the cashier informs me.
Going downstairs to get to the dance floor, I already get the sense that this is the underground of Tel Aviv nightlife, in part because the place feels like a cellar with its low ceiling, long rectangular dance floor, minimal lighting, simple gray and black design, and a DJ booth located at eye level.
As East Village-esque Tel Avivians begin to filter in to the filtered electronic bass lines, it becomes clear that this is a place where sounds, looks, moves and touch matter more than words. Not surprisingly, as I seek one of the owners to get the scoop on Dada, he is reticent, probably because the less people know about Dada, the more allure and exclusivity it maintains.
Gal (it would be poor etiquette to ask his last name) says the point of the place is to bring back the glory of Tel Aviv's nightlife scene, which translates into: the hottest DJs, parties that begin late and end past six in the morning, gay friendliness, and well-dressed, well- tattooed and well-pierced late 20 and 30+ year-olds (as opposed to "kids" and soldiers). Dada already has a successful model, The Breakfast Club on Rothschild Street, founded in 2005 by the same owners, which quickly rose as Tel Aviv's trendy epicenter.
The main feature of Dada, Gal says, is the music. The electro, progressive house and generally dark beats and basses fit any and all forms of unconventional intoxication, to the extent that Dada can easily turn into a surreal fantasyland of sensation.
But as I leave, it becomes clear that either I came on a bad night or Dada's goal to attract the beautiful bohemia of Tel Aviv has backfired. Waiting in line to be selected were dozens of freaky- looking guys (and hardly any women) with frightening hairdos, pimply skin, bad tattoos, and gruff manners. The crazy thing was that most of them waltzed right in. Surreal, indeed.
Harakevet 6. Open Thursday, Friday from 1 a.m. Music: Electro, progressive house, techno. Cover: NIS 30-50
Thursday, January 11, 2007
The beer pioneers
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; January 11, 2007
Click here for original
The average Israeli drinks approximately one liter of beer for every 10 in Europe or America, but thanks to new microbreweries such as The Golan Brewery, things are changing
A wise man named Frank Zappa once said: "You can't be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline - it helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer."
Depending on whom you ask, Israel meets most of the criteria: Regarding nuclear weapons, you'd have to ask Prime Minister Olmert for a more definitive answer. As for football, if soccer and football are interchangeable, then Israel is making the grade. And Israel now boasts more than one airline. But when it comes to beer, while Maccabee and Goldstar have been around for a while, Israel's latest crop of brewmasters would probably say that mass-produced commercial beers don't make the grade.
Beer actually traces its history to the Middle East, where the drink was first made in the grain-rich lands of Mesopotamia in the fourth millennium BCE. While barley and wheat, two main beer ingredients, are two of the Land of Israel's "shiv'at Haminim" (seven indigenous species), modern Israel has never been known as a beer-brewing, beer-chugging country. Statistics show the average Israeli drinks approximately one liter of beer for every 10 liters in Europe or America.
Beer aficionados, however, are now saying that Israeli beer culture is burgeoning, with the growth of boutique breweries in Israel mimicking the rise of boutique wineries 10 years ago.
"Historically, Israelis are not big beer drinkers," says David Cohen, CEO of Dancing Camel, one of the first commercial microbreweries in Israel. "There are certain things that are happening [a growth in home brewing culture, more microbreweries, and a greater variety of imported beers] that seem to indicate that Israelis are open to drinking more beer and experimenting with different types of beer."
Cohen made aliya with his wife and three children from Teaneck, New Jersey in 2003, equipped with his home brewing equipment and a dream of giving the Jewish homeland a boutique beer of its own. He started production in August 2006 and these days he can be found wearing his signature bandana (which doubles as a kippa), "doughing in" hot water and barley in huge vats at his microbrewery in Tel Aviv.
According to Cohen, who left his job as a CPA in Manhattan to realize his Zionist longings, creating a new Israeli boutique beer was far from simple. Unlike the wine industry, there was no infrastructure for brewing beer in Israel, on either a large or small scale.
"It was hard to get malt, hops and wheat," explains Cohen of his initial attempts to expand his hobby into a commercial enterprise. "When we got here, there was nothing in terms of home brewing supplies. I had to order supplies from the States. It was very expensive."
After searching tirelessly for a suitable location, cutting through sticky municipal red tape and establishing contacts with suppliers and customers, Cohen finally set up his microbrewery in a Tel Aviv industrial zone, to which he commutes from his home in Modi'in. His beer start-up is now beginning to pick up steam, currently serving about 15 bars and restaurants in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, with more expressing interest.
Together with two staffers, Cohen closely follows the brewing process from start to finish: grinding the grains, mashing the barley, boiling the wort (liquid extracted from barley), adding hops, cooling the wort and fermenting and conditioning the beer. He imports the malts (enzyme-activated barley) from Germany, but Cohen, a loyal Zionist, is adamant about giving Dancing Camel an indigenous flavor.
"Part of the point is not just to come over here to brew an English ale. My intentions were to use Israeli spices and ingredients - if not for the barley and wheat, then at least for the spices of the beer to give it something completely Israeli."
Silan (date syrup), cilantro, oranges, and cloves make up some of the added flavors. Every year after Succot, Cohen collects etrogim (citrons) from across the country and makes a special post- High Holy Day blend. He also has plans to bottle the Dancing Camel for export.
Leave it to the immigrants to give Israeli culture a beer boost.
Vitaly Chen made aliya from Russia in 1996 with the dream of carrying on a family tradition: Both his father and grandfather were brewmasters in the city of Ufa.
After he completed his MBA and worked as a customer service and advertising rep, the hops were finally ripe for Chen to open the Haifa-based Eldorado microbrewery exactly one year ago.
Eldorado was officially launched last September at Jerusalem's beer festival. Made according to family recipes, Eldorado is served at a few pubs and bars in Haifa, as well as a brew-pub restaurant Chen recently opened called Knight Cellar.
According to Chen, people are increasingly well-informed about beer and "demand" boutique beers. "People are sick of the industrial beers," says Chen. "Everywhere you go you see the same brands."
Even so, he believes that it will take a while for gourmet beers to challenge the industrial beer market, especially since the latter are aggressively pushing their beers to maintain their monopoly.
WHILE MOST Israelis associate the Golan with wineries and vineyards, archeological digs from ancient times have shown that other kinds of alcohol were produced in the region as well. The month-old Golan Brewery is aiming to renew this age-old tradition with the first large-scale Golan-made beer since the state's founding.
Unlike the Dancing Camel and Eldorado, the Golan Brewery adheres to strict German beer standards which stipulate that beer must be made using only water, barley, hops and yeast, in accordance with the German beer purity law of 1516. Moti Bar, manager of this Golan Heights based brewery, seeks to lead the transformation of Israeli beer culture.
"Just as the Golan Heights was the starting point for the revolution in the field of wine, the idea was to start a revolution in the field of beer," Bar says.
In this case, different beer flavors are based on the creative combination of these four ingredients. The Golan Brewery's claim to "Israeli-ness" is the water it uses. The Golan is Israel's main source of water. The brewery's water flows straight from a Golan stream into the tap.
"Ninety-eight percent of beer is mineral water. Using quality water is very important to create a quality beer," Bar adds.
Currently the beer is served on tap at the brewery's accompanying restaurant, but plans are in the works to bottle its three types of beers: Golan, Emek, and Galil.
While 2007 is likely to mark a turning point in the local beer industry, the trend actually began about 10 years ago with the Tel Aviv Brewhouse, a restaurant within a microbrewery. The Tel Aviv Brewhouse was the first to import a sophisticated beer brewing system. Unlike other microbreweries, the beer is made for consumption straight from the tap to which the beer flows through an elaborate system of pipes. Both the vats and the pipes are on premises.
The advantage of such a set-up, says Itamar Hatsor, co-owner of the Tel Aviv Brewhouse, is that the beer is fresh and has no shelf- life: "You can't compare it to Heineken or Carlsberg," he explains. "Our beer doesn't go through a filtering process. All the goodies remain inside. This is why when you look at our beer through light, it's opaque."
This is one reason why the Tel Aviv Brewhouse refuses to bottle its beer, unless by individual customer request. Bottling, he explains, affects temperature, which is why beer bottles are usually dark brown or dark green - to protect it from damaging UV rays.
Amir Neuman, manager of Norman Premium which distributes and imports local and imported beer, thinks this is only the beginning. "It's a hot topic and a very interesting one. People are asking a lot of questions," he says.
"In the past few years there has been a serious growth in Irish pubs, which serve a more sophisticated and greater selection of beers. There is demand and room in Israel for more kinds of beers of higher quality."
"Israelis are not necessarily drinking more beer," concludes David Cohen of Dancing Camel, "but better beers."
Click here for original
The average Israeli drinks approximately one liter of beer for every 10 in Europe or America, but thanks to new microbreweries such as The Golan Brewery, things are changing
A wise man named Frank Zappa once said: "You can't be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline - it helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer."
Depending on whom you ask, Israel meets most of the criteria: Regarding nuclear weapons, you'd have to ask Prime Minister Olmert for a more definitive answer. As for football, if soccer and football are interchangeable, then Israel is making the grade. And Israel now boasts more than one airline. But when it comes to beer, while Maccabee and Goldstar have been around for a while, Israel's latest crop of brewmasters would probably say that mass-produced commercial beers don't make the grade.
Beer actually traces its history to the Middle East, where the drink was first made in the grain-rich lands of Mesopotamia in the fourth millennium BCE. While barley and wheat, two main beer ingredients, are two of the Land of Israel's "shiv'at Haminim" (seven indigenous species), modern Israel has never been known as a beer-brewing, beer-chugging country. Statistics show the average Israeli drinks approximately one liter of beer for every 10 liters in Europe or America.
Beer aficionados, however, are now saying that Israeli beer culture is burgeoning, with the growth of boutique breweries in Israel mimicking the rise of boutique wineries 10 years ago.
"Historically, Israelis are not big beer drinkers," says David Cohen, CEO of Dancing Camel, one of the first commercial microbreweries in Israel. "There are certain things that are happening [a growth in home brewing culture, more microbreweries, and a greater variety of imported beers] that seem to indicate that Israelis are open to drinking more beer and experimenting with different types of beer."
Cohen made aliya with his wife and three children from Teaneck, New Jersey in 2003, equipped with his home brewing equipment and a dream of giving the Jewish homeland a boutique beer of its own. He started production in August 2006 and these days he can be found wearing his signature bandana (which doubles as a kippa), "doughing in" hot water and barley in huge vats at his microbrewery in Tel Aviv.
According to Cohen, who left his job as a CPA in Manhattan to realize his Zionist longings, creating a new Israeli boutique beer was far from simple. Unlike the wine industry, there was no infrastructure for brewing beer in Israel, on either a large or small scale.
"It was hard to get malt, hops and wheat," explains Cohen of his initial attempts to expand his hobby into a commercial enterprise. "When we got here, there was nothing in terms of home brewing supplies. I had to order supplies from the States. It was very expensive."
After searching tirelessly for a suitable location, cutting through sticky municipal red tape and establishing contacts with suppliers and customers, Cohen finally set up his microbrewery in a Tel Aviv industrial zone, to which he commutes from his home in Modi'in. His beer start-up is now beginning to pick up steam, currently serving about 15 bars and restaurants in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, with more expressing interest.
Together with two staffers, Cohen closely follows the brewing process from start to finish: grinding the grains, mashing the barley, boiling the wort (liquid extracted from barley), adding hops, cooling the wort and fermenting and conditioning the beer. He imports the malts (enzyme-activated barley) from Germany, but Cohen, a loyal Zionist, is adamant about giving Dancing Camel an indigenous flavor.
"Part of the point is not just to come over here to brew an English ale. My intentions were to use Israeli spices and ingredients - if not for the barley and wheat, then at least for the spices of the beer to give it something completely Israeli."
Silan (date syrup), cilantro, oranges, and cloves make up some of the added flavors. Every year after Succot, Cohen collects etrogim (citrons) from across the country and makes a special post- High Holy Day blend. He also has plans to bottle the Dancing Camel for export.
Leave it to the immigrants to give Israeli culture a beer boost.
Vitaly Chen made aliya from Russia in 1996 with the dream of carrying on a family tradition: Both his father and grandfather were brewmasters in the city of Ufa.
After he completed his MBA and worked as a customer service and advertising rep, the hops were finally ripe for Chen to open the Haifa-based Eldorado microbrewery exactly one year ago.
Eldorado was officially launched last September at Jerusalem's beer festival. Made according to family recipes, Eldorado is served at a few pubs and bars in Haifa, as well as a brew-pub restaurant Chen recently opened called Knight Cellar.
According to Chen, people are increasingly well-informed about beer and "demand" boutique beers. "People are sick of the industrial beers," says Chen. "Everywhere you go you see the same brands."
Even so, he believes that it will take a while for gourmet beers to challenge the industrial beer market, especially since the latter are aggressively pushing their beers to maintain their monopoly.
WHILE MOST Israelis associate the Golan with wineries and vineyards, archeological digs from ancient times have shown that other kinds of alcohol were produced in the region as well. The month-old Golan Brewery is aiming to renew this age-old tradition with the first large-scale Golan-made beer since the state's founding.
Unlike the Dancing Camel and Eldorado, the Golan Brewery adheres to strict German beer standards which stipulate that beer must be made using only water, barley, hops and yeast, in accordance with the German beer purity law of 1516. Moti Bar, manager of this Golan Heights based brewery, seeks to lead the transformation of Israeli beer culture.
"Just as the Golan Heights was the starting point for the revolution in the field of wine, the idea was to start a revolution in the field of beer," Bar says.
In this case, different beer flavors are based on the creative combination of these four ingredients. The Golan Brewery's claim to "Israeli-ness" is the water it uses. The Golan is Israel's main source of water. The brewery's water flows straight from a Golan stream into the tap.
"Ninety-eight percent of beer is mineral water. Using quality water is very important to create a quality beer," Bar adds.
Currently the beer is served on tap at the brewery's accompanying restaurant, but plans are in the works to bottle its three types of beers: Golan, Emek, and Galil.
While 2007 is likely to mark a turning point in the local beer industry, the trend actually began about 10 years ago with the Tel Aviv Brewhouse, a restaurant within a microbrewery. The Tel Aviv Brewhouse was the first to import a sophisticated beer brewing system. Unlike other microbreweries, the beer is made for consumption straight from the tap to which the beer flows through an elaborate system of pipes. Both the vats and the pipes are on premises.
The advantage of such a set-up, says Itamar Hatsor, co-owner of the Tel Aviv Brewhouse, is that the beer is fresh and has no shelf- life: "You can't compare it to Heineken or Carlsberg," he explains. "Our beer doesn't go through a filtering process. All the goodies remain inside. This is why when you look at our beer through light, it's opaque."
This is one reason why the Tel Aviv Brewhouse refuses to bottle its beer, unless by individual customer request. Bottling, he explains, affects temperature, which is why beer bottles are usually dark brown or dark green - to protect it from damaging UV rays.
Amir Neuman, manager of Norman Premium which distributes and imports local and imported beer, thinks this is only the beginning. "It's a hot topic and a very interesting one. People are asking a lot of questions," he says.
"In the past few years there has been a serious growth in Irish pubs, which serve a more sophisticated and greater selection of beers. There is demand and room in Israel for more kinds of beers of higher quality."
"Israelis are not necessarily drinking more beer," concludes David Cohen of Dancing Camel, "but better beers."
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