The Jewish Journal; March 20, 2008
Click here for original
Recently, I met a guy at a friend's party. He had blond, spiky hair and an intellectual's goatee. He was a European student in Israel for the year working on his master's degree researching Palestinian security. While I realized I couldn't count on him for a serious romantic prospect, I gave him my business card. The next day he sent me a text message on my cell: "If you're ever around my neighborhood, give a call or stop by my place for tea, coffee, beer, drinks...."
OK, so was he asking me on a date? Or was this textual invitation his way of saying, "So if you're ever around stop by so we can fool around?"
Sorry, I don't do contextual sex. If he were really interested in getting to know me, wouldn't he have called and offered to take me out to dinner, or at the very least, coffee?
This is not the first time I've been asked out via SMS (short message service). Once a month I get an SMS from a young, somewhat geeky Tel Aviv lawyer who has been courting me for years. The messages usually read: "I'm in Jerusalem maybe you want to do something." Usually I don't reply, not only to protest this lazy approach, but to avoid carpel tunnel syndrome. I don't call back because then he succeeds in placing the expense, effort and burden of the phone call on me.
Despite my lack of responsiveness, he still continues to ask me out over SMS. I guess he never really felt rejected.
Sometimes I wonder if the SMS was created not to ease communication between people but to protect the egos of single men and women. By asking people out by text, they don't actually have to hear a blatant "no." And if the other side accepts the offer, SMS courtships already set low standards of communication.
What I hate more than using SMS to ask people out is using SMS to conduct intimate conversation. I have sought to avoid this, but I've heard countless stories from friends who spill their hearts over SMS. Like the time my friend in her early 30s was dating a man who couldn't commit to her, and she told him she couldn't see him anymore. When she could no longer take his absence, she sent him an SMS that read: "I just want to tell you I miss you, but please don't answer me."
I'm sure it was a form of catharsis, but I'm also sure she was secretly hoping that he would answer her. He ended up replying, and they continued their sloppy, passive-aggresive relationship for another month.
SMS relationships can also be risky. This same friend finally broke up with this commitmentphobe (although they still SMS on occasion) and developed a semiserious relationship with a new guy; this time it was mutual -- or was it? One day he left his cell phone charging at her apartment. She looked around to make sure God wasn't looking, and with little compunction, she opened his inbox. She sensed she might find there some love SMSs.
She analyzed the messages -- exactly when they were sent, by whom, under what circumstance -- as if they were a complex Talmudic discussion. She found one message from her boyfriend's good "friend" that read "are you alone, or are you with your 'girlfriend.'" (Girlfriend in quotation marks.) She checked his outbox to look for a reply, but there were only 10 messages. She was sure he erased the incriminating ones. She concluded that he and this friend were involved.
One day she asked him if she was his "girlfriend in quotation marks," and he understood. He liked her enough to forgive her trespass. Then he explained how this friend simply mimicked a SMS he sent to her in which he called her casual weekend fling a "boyfriend" (in quotation marks). He only had 10 messages in his outbox because his phone automatically erases them. Turns out she took everything out of context.
The most cowardly SMS, however, is the break-up SMS.
A friend of mine recently told me how horrible she felt when she sent the following message to a JDater she went out with twice: "I think you're great, but I don't think it's going to work." He called her twice immediately after, and she didn't pick up. She has yet to listen to the message he left. I'm sure karma will "send" her retribution.
It reminds me of that "Sex and the City" episode when Carrie Bradshaw's boyfriend dumped her with a Post-it.
"Sorry. I can't. Don't hate me," it read. I wonder why he didn't send it via SMS.
Now that would have been an SMS Pulitzer-prize winner.
So many people fall back on text messages because it excuses them from depth, articulation, and emotional investment. Sometimes suitors opt for Facebook for textual courtship and rejection. Facebook at least requires full sentences, but the Facebook relay still offers one degree of separation.
I can't stand it when guys "superpoke," "bite," "hug" or send me a virtual drink over Facebook. That's lazy, impersonal flirtation. E-mail requires more courage, but still, nothing demonstrates more respect in dating and relationships than a phone call or a face to face conversation.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Not the 'Circus' (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; March 14, 2008
Herziliya Pituach is home to some dozen bars and dance bars, and while a good number of them demonstrate the design sophistication of bars in Tel Aviv, they have never really enjoyed the mega-trendy, ultra-cool vibe of Tel Aviv establishments.
Oxford Sq. is trying to change that. It's a bold attempt, but based on a recent visit there, one that falls short. The dark, narrow bar mimics Britain's Underground subway station, with graffiti painted on brick walls and a long bar where one would expect to find subway rails. Sounds likes an impressive concept, but read the tiled "Oxford Sq." on the wall to realize that something is missing from the get-go - the correct name, which is Oxford Circus.
The concept wasn't extended to a small lounge area in the back of the room where my friends and I gathered for a birthday party on plush, leather sofas. Oxford Sq only opened at the start of 2008, and the service reflected a lack of time-honed proficiency. The waitress took 20 minutes to bring me my cocktail, an unwise delay for any bar which should try to get the ladies tipsy as quickly as possible.
Finally, my drink came, so I relaxed and sat back to people watch, as we often do in subway stations. It was about 10:30 pm, and two monitors screened a basketball game, making Oxford feel more like a sports bar. Men with buzz cuts were transfixed on the game, despite the pretty blondes by the bar who should have lured their attention.
But not long after the screens rolled up, the music got a little louder, and Oxford Sq. began to turn more into the circus it should be. Still, the dancing was only in aisles that are as unpleasantly squishy as a central subway station during rush hour.
The menu, while serving a respectable choice of beers and hard liquors, has a meager cocktail and food selection. The people exuded an impenetrable Herziliya snobbiness that made it difficult to make friends. However, I noticed some people didn't seem to mind the crowdedness and ultimately found their groove. It's quite possible however, that I just didn't drink enough.
Oxford Sq., can apparently rely on its novelty, good PR, and haphazardly executed concept to attract initial crowds. I give it two years before it crashes. As for me, my friend and I boarded the train and left early - about 1 a.m. - while lines were still long outside.
Oxford Square, Abba Eban 4, Herziliya, (09) 950-2371
Herziliya Pituach is home to some dozen bars and dance bars, and while a good number of them demonstrate the design sophistication of bars in Tel Aviv, they have never really enjoyed the mega-trendy, ultra-cool vibe of Tel Aviv establishments.
Oxford Sq. is trying to change that. It's a bold attempt, but based on a recent visit there, one that falls short. The dark, narrow bar mimics Britain's Underground subway station, with graffiti painted on brick walls and a long bar where one would expect to find subway rails. Sounds likes an impressive concept, but read the tiled "Oxford Sq." on the wall to realize that something is missing from the get-go - the correct name, which is Oxford Circus.
The concept wasn't extended to a small lounge area in the back of the room where my friends and I gathered for a birthday party on plush, leather sofas. Oxford Sq only opened at the start of 2008, and the service reflected a lack of time-honed proficiency. The waitress took 20 minutes to bring me my cocktail, an unwise delay for any bar which should try to get the ladies tipsy as quickly as possible.
Finally, my drink came, so I relaxed and sat back to people watch, as we often do in subway stations. It was about 10:30 pm, and two monitors screened a basketball game, making Oxford feel more like a sports bar. Men with buzz cuts were transfixed on the game, despite the pretty blondes by the bar who should have lured their attention.
But not long after the screens rolled up, the music got a little louder, and Oxford Sq. began to turn more into the circus it should be. Still, the dancing was only in aisles that are as unpleasantly squishy as a central subway station during rush hour.
The menu, while serving a respectable choice of beers and hard liquors, has a meager cocktail and food selection. The people exuded an impenetrable Herziliya snobbiness that made it difficult to make friends. However, I noticed some people didn't seem to mind the crowdedness and ultimately found their groove. It's quite possible however, that I just didn't drink enough.
Oxford Sq., can apparently rely on its novelty, good PR, and haphazardly executed concept to attract initial crowds. I give it two years before it crashes. As for me, my friend and I boarded the train and left early - about 1 a.m. - while lines were still long outside.
Oxford Square, Abba Eban 4, Herziliya, (09) 950-2371
Thursday, March 6, 2008
A rare treat? (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; March 6, 2008
The new Jerusalem-based branch of Papagaio offers a good show and good meats. It's only a shame that attention to the finer culinary details is missing.
Only one week after opening, the kosher branch of Papagaio in the Talpiot neighborhood in Jerusalem was full on a weekday night. Out of 150 places, only about 20 were empty: the rest filled with kippa-wearing, baby-clutching families and itchy children; the odd meat-guzzling men's night out was also in evidence. The South American grill can thank the success of its five other branches - located in Tel Aviv, Herzliya, Eilat and Haifa - for some advance marketing.
This was my first visit to the chain and allow me to say in advance that I'm not a huge beef lover (I order steaks on special occasions) but the design and concept tempted me. Papagaio offers an all-you-can-eat "Churrascarias" dinner for NIS 140; the meat keeps coming and the diners keep dining, preferably until they pop.
The restaurant is probably one of the largest in Jerusalem. Spread over 500 square meters its design raises the bar for the capital: the handsome leather chairs and booths and finely set wooden tables; the wedding-cake shaped chandeliers; and the large bar adorned with a now seemingly de-rigueur LCD monitor. Across from the bar is the wide-open grill.
The meal here starts with breads, spreads, and salads and then come 12 different kinds of meat. (Lunch comes with eight kinds of meat for NIS 90.) On the table is a "stopper" which diners use to signal to the waiters red for "STOP" and green for "GO" to pace the service. Our waiter brought out a platter of fruit cocktails for an aperitif. Although made only from pure frozen fruit pieces, sugar and (if desired) alcohol, these drinks were mediocre and pulpy.
While it's recommended to come to Papagaio very hungry, overcome the temptation to indulge that hunger with the opening salads. While they are prepared fresh daily and include coleslaw, Israeli salad, spicy carrot salad and sweet potato salad, they are not good or creative enough to justify padding the stomach. Stick with the fresh, light Israeli salad, which may need some more seasoning.
As my dining partner pointed out, all-you-can-eat grills often start with the cheaper, lightweight meats first. Papagaio proved no exception to the rule.
First we were served two kinds of chicken wings (one with the salads) and then drumsticks grilled in a sweet marinade; then came the chorizo sausages, lamb kebab and chicken skewers. Overall these dishes had the quality of a well-done, professional barbecue. The liver that followed, however, was a little too charred for my taste.
We didn't use the red/green stopper for a while. The waiters kept filling our places. This makes Papagaio a sore choice for intimate conversation - we were continually interrupted. Finally, we put the stopper on red so we could finish our train of thought and let our stomachs settle to welcome the beef.
One sirloin, sliced thin, was flavored with salt seasoned with fresh herbs, and another with garlic sauce. Then came the large, impressive boneless rib carved on the spot, and I was too full to really enjoy it. I realized there comes the point of diminishing returns.
I waited a little and made my way through the entrecote, which looked particularly appetizing. It still sizzled when it was brought to our table on a skewer the size of a sword. The waiter carved the meat professionally according to our request: medium on one side and medium- well on the other. I regretted my fullness, because I really could have enjoyed the fine and juicy pieces.
Doggie bags, by the way, aren't allowed at Papagaio. "The meat should be tasted sizzling hot, straight off the grill," is the manager's inadequate explanation. (I imagine what he really means is that the restaurant fears the greedy Israeli consumer who might feed a family of four on the offerings.)
Finally dessert: The chocolate fondue was more like a bowl of liquid brownie goop. (These are made on the spot and take 12 minutes to bake; I think they rushed ours.) The overly moist carrot cake was drowning in a grapefruit sauce.
Overall, if you're looking only for the food and not for the show (although there's a show there too), you may want to try South American Vaquiero on Rehov Hanevi'im instead. This relatively veteran Jerusalem restaurant offers an excellent eat-as-much-as-you-like 10-12 meats option for NIS 129 which includes dishes such as goose in orange sauce.
Those deciding to dine at Papagaio need to pace themselves and not be shy in rejecting the servers' constant bid to fill the plates. Either that, or ask to be served the offerings in reverse, starting with the beef. I doubt they would actually agree, but you never know....
Rehov Yad Harutzim 3, Jerusalem.
Tel: (02) 674-5745. NIS 140 for unlimited meats, salads and breads. An upgraded deal for NIS 185 includes cocktails, a cold and hot drink, and dessert.
Atira Winchester contributed to this review.
The new Jerusalem-based branch of Papagaio offers a good show and good meats. It's only a shame that attention to the finer culinary details is missing.
Only one week after opening, the kosher branch of Papagaio in the Talpiot neighborhood in Jerusalem was full on a weekday night. Out of 150 places, only about 20 were empty: the rest filled with kippa-wearing, baby-clutching families and itchy children; the odd meat-guzzling men's night out was also in evidence. The South American grill can thank the success of its five other branches - located in Tel Aviv, Herzliya, Eilat and Haifa - for some advance marketing.
This was my first visit to the chain and allow me to say in advance that I'm not a huge beef lover (I order steaks on special occasions) but the design and concept tempted me. Papagaio offers an all-you-can-eat "Churrascarias" dinner for NIS 140; the meat keeps coming and the diners keep dining, preferably until they pop.
The restaurant is probably one of the largest in Jerusalem. Spread over 500 square meters its design raises the bar for the capital: the handsome leather chairs and booths and finely set wooden tables; the wedding-cake shaped chandeliers; and the large bar adorned with a now seemingly de-rigueur LCD monitor. Across from the bar is the wide-open grill.
The meal here starts with breads, spreads, and salads and then come 12 different kinds of meat. (Lunch comes with eight kinds of meat for NIS 90.) On the table is a "stopper" which diners use to signal to the waiters red for "STOP" and green for "GO" to pace the service. Our waiter brought out a platter of fruit cocktails for an aperitif. Although made only from pure frozen fruit pieces, sugar and (if desired) alcohol, these drinks were mediocre and pulpy.
While it's recommended to come to Papagaio very hungry, overcome the temptation to indulge that hunger with the opening salads. While they are prepared fresh daily and include coleslaw, Israeli salad, spicy carrot salad and sweet potato salad, they are not good or creative enough to justify padding the stomach. Stick with the fresh, light Israeli salad, which may need some more seasoning.
As my dining partner pointed out, all-you-can-eat grills often start with the cheaper, lightweight meats first. Papagaio proved no exception to the rule.
First we were served two kinds of chicken wings (one with the salads) and then drumsticks grilled in a sweet marinade; then came the chorizo sausages, lamb kebab and chicken skewers. Overall these dishes had the quality of a well-done, professional barbecue. The liver that followed, however, was a little too charred for my taste.
We didn't use the red/green stopper for a while. The waiters kept filling our places. This makes Papagaio a sore choice for intimate conversation - we were continually interrupted. Finally, we put the stopper on red so we could finish our train of thought and let our stomachs settle to welcome the beef.
One sirloin, sliced thin, was flavored with salt seasoned with fresh herbs, and another with garlic sauce. Then came the large, impressive boneless rib carved on the spot, and I was too full to really enjoy it. I realized there comes the point of diminishing returns.
I waited a little and made my way through the entrecote, which looked particularly appetizing. It still sizzled when it was brought to our table on a skewer the size of a sword. The waiter carved the meat professionally according to our request: medium on one side and medium- well on the other. I regretted my fullness, because I really could have enjoyed the fine and juicy pieces.
Doggie bags, by the way, aren't allowed at Papagaio. "The meat should be tasted sizzling hot, straight off the grill," is the manager's inadequate explanation. (I imagine what he really means is that the restaurant fears the greedy Israeli consumer who might feed a family of four on the offerings.)
Finally dessert: The chocolate fondue was more like a bowl of liquid brownie goop. (These are made on the spot and take 12 minutes to bake; I think they rushed ours.) The overly moist carrot cake was drowning in a grapefruit sauce.
Overall, if you're looking only for the food and not for the show (although there's a show there too), you may want to try South American Vaquiero on Rehov Hanevi'im instead. This relatively veteran Jerusalem restaurant offers an excellent eat-as-much-as-you-like 10-12 meats option for NIS 129 which includes dishes such as goose in orange sauce.
Those deciding to dine at Papagaio need to pace themselves and not be shy in rejecting the servers' constant bid to fill the plates. Either that, or ask to be served the offerings in reverse, starting with the beef. I doubt they would actually agree, but you never know....
Rehov Yad Harutzim 3, Jerusalem.
Tel: (02) 674-5745. NIS 140 for unlimited meats, salads and breads. An upgraded deal for NIS 185 includes cocktails, a cold and hot drink, and dessert.
Atira Winchester contributed to this review.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Dancing on Sokolov's bar (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; February 29, 2008
On a recent Friday night, my friend Anat and I attempted to storm Villa Sokolov, a hot new bar in Tel Aviv. But when we arrived around midnight, almost 50 people were clamoring at the entrance.
I turned to Anat. "Do we really want to try to get in?"
"First let's see if there are any cusim (our own code for male babes, a play on the Hebrew word for the female variety, cusit)," suggested Anat, who had been to the bar once before.
We looked around and noticed a few cusim, but not enough to justify an aggressive push through the horde, so we vowed to come earlier in the week next time.
A week later, on Thursday night, we got there at 10, the nightlife early-bird hour. Still, to our surprise, about 30 people were pushing to get in.
"This is degrading, isn't it?" I told Anat. "I think I'm too old for this."
"It seems like this is the place to be," Anat said. "Is there a good reason? I don't know. Only alcohol will give us the answer."
Finally, the selector let us in, and we walked through a garden to reach a door with a sign that said "The Sokolov Family." Villa Sokolov rents its space from Sokolov House, headquarters of the Israeli Journalist Association named after Hebrew journalism pioneer Nahum Sokolov. The establishment was imagined as his "villa," and his portrait looms over the bar. I wonder if the Zionist writer would be flattered.
The spacious "villa" is furnished with two large ziz-zag shaped bars and ample cushioned lounge areas along the perimeter. Oil paintings, a grand piano, lamp shades, and a lounge/study area adorned with books all add a homey touch.
No doubt the interior is impressive, and we definitely counted a few cusim but couldn't yet figure out why the place is so "in." We ordered beer.
We began to loosen up to the music. Whitney's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and Cindy Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" took me back to my pre-teen years. We took Lauper's words to heart and order another round.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a clip from a Guns N' Roses concert appeared on a large screen, and Anat and I watched dreamily as Slash attacked his guitar to "Sweet Child O' Mine." I felt like I was back in eighth grade as I turned my head over to imitate Slash with my curly hair flopping over my face. It was something I hadn't done in years, and the great thing was - people weren't looking at me funny.
But then comes our own personal test for Villa Sokolov: will the DJ put on some Britney? Usually DJs think they are above the flailing pop star, but they should know she's crazy enough to make some of us women crazy.
Fellow Britney fan Anat asked the DJ for the dame, and we eased the wait with yet another round. Suddenly Britney's hit "Gimme More" came on, and I was up on the bar, looking Mr. Sokolov right in the eye. The bartender asked me to get down, but I was not in the mood to listen.
After dancing on the bar as if I were alone in my bedroom, I really needed a nap, so I rested my head on a sofa for about an hour. A guy (unfortunately not a cusi) who treated me to a drink earlier tried to revive me with a kiss, but I pushed him away. This is not Sleeping Beauty. Then I noticed the contents of my little purse on the floor.
The next day I realized my credit card was gone. Villa Sokolov's "lost and found" consists of tracking down the owner, who refers you to a manager, who really doesn't give a damn and refers you back to the owner. Not fun, especially when nursing a hangover. Finally, the owner informs me they can't find it. Apparently, it's easy to lose things at Villa Sokolov. On her first night there, Anat's boot straps fell off, and last week the owner lost his credit card.
I think Anat and I were too drunk that night to come up with an articulate answer to our question about what makes Villa Sokolov so special, but I do know this: the night was worth the lost credit card - and the lost dignity.
Kaplan 4, Beit Sokolov, Tel Aviv, (050) 848-8883
On a recent Friday night, my friend Anat and I attempted to storm Villa Sokolov, a hot new bar in Tel Aviv. But when we arrived around midnight, almost 50 people were clamoring at the entrance.
I turned to Anat. "Do we really want to try to get in?"
"First let's see if there are any cusim (our own code for male babes, a play on the Hebrew word for the female variety, cusit)," suggested Anat, who had been to the bar once before.
We looked around and noticed a few cusim, but not enough to justify an aggressive push through the horde, so we vowed to come earlier in the week next time.
A week later, on Thursday night, we got there at 10, the nightlife early-bird hour. Still, to our surprise, about 30 people were pushing to get in.
"This is degrading, isn't it?" I told Anat. "I think I'm too old for this."
"It seems like this is the place to be," Anat said. "Is there a good reason? I don't know. Only alcohol will give us the answer."
Finally, the selector let us in, and we walked through a garden to reach a door with a sign that said "The Sokolov Family." Villa Sokolov rents its space from Sokolov House, headquarters of the Israeli Journalist Association named after Hebrew journalism pioneer Nahum Sokolov. The establishment was imagined as his "villa," and his portrait looms over the bar. I wonder if the Zionist writer would be flattered.
The spacious "villa" is furnished with two large ziz-zag shaped bars and ample cushioned lounge areas along the perimeter. Oil paintings, a grand piano, lamp shades, and a lounge/study area adorned with books all add a homey touch.
No doubt the interior is impressive, and we definitely counted a few cusim but couldn't yet figure out why the place is so "in." We ordered beer.
We began to loosen up to the music. Whitney's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and Cindy Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" took me back to my pre-teen years. We took Lauper's words to heart and order another round.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a clip from a Guns N' Roses concert appeared on a large screen, and Anat and I watched dreamily as Slash attacked his guitar to "Sweet Child O' Mine." I felt like I was back in eighth grade as I turned my head over to imitate Slash with my curly hair flopping over my face. It was something I hadn't done in years, and the great thing was - people weren't looking at me funny.
But then comes our own personal test for Villa Sokolov: will the DJ put on some Britney? Usually DJs think they are above the flailing pop star, but they should know she's crazy enough to make some of us women crazy.
Fellow Britney fan Anat asked the DJ for the dame, and we eased the wait with yet another round. Suddenly Britney's hit "Gimme More" came on, and I was up on the bar, looking Mr. Sokolov right in the eye. The bartender asked me to get down, but I was not in the mood to listen.
After dancing on the bar as if I were alone in my bedroom, I really needed a nap, so I rested my head on a sofa for about an hour. A guy (unfortunately not a cusi) who treated me to a drink earlier tried to revive me with a kiss, but I pushed him away. This is not Sleeping Beauty. Then I noticed the contents of my little purse on the floor.
The next day I realized my credit card was gone. Villa Sokolov's "lost and found" consists of tracking down the owner, who refers you to a manager, who really doesn't give a damn and refers you back to the owner. Not fun, especially when nursing a hangover. Finally, the owner informs me they can't find it. Apparently, it's easy to lose things at Villa Sokolov. On her first night there, Anat's boot straps fell off, and last week the owner lost his credit card.
I think Anat and I were too drunk that night to come up with an articulate answer to our question about what makes Villa Sokolov so special, but I do know this: the night was worth the lost credit card - and the lost dignity.
Kaplan 4, Beit Sokolov, Tel Aviv, (050) 848-8883
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Coming soon—a Jewish liberal arts college
The Jewish Journal; February 28, 2008
Click here for full article
This is one in a series of articles on myriad topics related to Israel that will run weekly as we approach the Jewish State's 60th anniversary on Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel Independence Day, in May.
Dr. Daniel Gordis At a time when most Israeli university professors were on strike, Dr. Yoram Hazony, co-founder of the Shalem Center, a think tank and research institute, continued with his course schedule as usual at the center's handsome, three-story building in the upscale German Colony neighborhood of Jerusalem. He was recapping for Israeli college students alternate ways Western philosophers have solved the dichotomy between the world of ideas and reality. The bookshelves of the small conference room were lined with talmudic and biblical books as well journals on Zionism, political thought and philosophy, many of them Shalem titles.
If all goes well, this course will be included in the curriculum of a new College of the Jewish People, an idea Hazony is determined to bridge with reality in the face of challenges invovled in starting such a college: accreditation, funding, recruitment of student and faculty and resistance by some members of the Israeli media and academic establishment.
Israeli-born and raised in the United States, Hazony first envisioned a college for the Jewish people while an undergraduate student at Princeton, where he describes discussing religion, philosophy and politics late into the night with friends in the kosher dining hall. While seeking answers to questions relating to Jewish identity, it soon became clear to him that an American Ivy League college, whose credo was to prepare leaders "in the nation's service," could not prepare leaders in the service of the Jewish nation.
"The idea of the Jewish liberal arts college began with the question: What would Jews or non-Jews interested in the Jewish perspective need to study in order to think about the biggest questions from a perspective that's relevant to Jews," Hazony said in an interview in his office.
He founded the Shalem Center in 1994 with others from Princeton, Daniel Polisar, currently Shalem's president, and Dr. Joshua Weinstein. Hazony believes the groundwork has now been laid to realize Shalem College.
Shalem has grown from a think tank with a staff of three to an institute operating on a $10 million yearly budget with a staff of 100. Most of its funding comes from the Tikva Fund, created by the late philanthropist Zalman Bernstein. In recent months the center has been the subject of scrutiny for internal administrative problems and in the past Hazony's critiques of Israeli education have been the subject of controversy. Nevertheless, it has established its influence internationally.
Shalem runs six research institutes and its own press, and its senior fellows include best-selling author and historian Michael Oren, former Knesset member Natan Sharansky and former Israeli Chief of Staff Moshe Ya'alon.
Last year, Shalem recruited Dr. Daniel Gordis to spearhead the creation of the college. Gordis made news in Los Angeles in 1999, when he announced that he was making aliyah with his family five years after serving as founding dean of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the University of Judaism (now the American Jewish University). The Ziegler school was the first Conservative rabbinical school on the West Coast, and Gordis' new position will enable him to once again make Jewish educational history.
"If you can come in on the ground floor of something that you think has the capacity to dramatically transform the country, then that seems to be the ultimate concretization of the ideal of aliyah in a way that nothing else could be," Gordis said from his new office on the Shalem campus, where he serves as senior vice president.
The college is planned as an American-style, four-year liberal arts school, an educational model that doesn't exist in Israel. Israelis usually enter a three-year college or university program in their early-to-mid-20s, right after army service, choosing their majors straightaway. Israeli universities generally don't share American campus or dorm culture. Most students view their college years as vocational training and commute to school, often juggling their studies with a full- or part-time job.
"We want to change the experience of what being an undergraduate student is about," Gordis said.
Shalem envisions an isolated, rural, full-fledged university campus modeled after American schools like Williams College and Bryn Mawr.
"We want to create a cocoon, not an ivory tower, where people can read and think and sit on a lawn and read Plato and Aristotle and [Rabbi Joseph B.] Soloveichik and [Zionist thinker Micah Joseph] Berdichevski," Gordis said.
What will differentiate Shalem College from most American universities is an emphasis on an integrated core curriculum that combines studies in Bible, Talmud, rabbinic literature and Zionist and Jewish thought with Western philosophy, political theory and Middle Eastern studies.
"It's going to be a college that takes Jewish ideas seriously and the Zionist narrative seriously, even though you can critique it," Gordis said. Shalem has developed a reputation as a politically conservative institute, but Gordis stressed that the college will accommodate a wide range of political views, minus anti-Zionist views: "People who think Zionism has nothing to do with the Jewish world wouldn't want to be here."
Anti-Zionism and post-Zionism viewpoints, which question the basic conception, relevance or moral basis of the Jewish state, have plagued humanities departments in Israeli universities since the country's founding, said Hazony, provost of the college. In addition, he has observed that Judaism and the Bible have been cast as minor characters in the narrative of the development of Western civilization, not only abroad but in the Jewish state.
"The history of political theory is taught from a perspective that assumed that the Bible, Talmud and later literature had no influence at all in what we think today. This is historically false," Hazony said.
He hopes the college will revive the recognition and prominence of the role of Judaism and the Bible in shaping modern democratic ideas. Jack Reichert, 27, is complementing his university studies in philosophy with studies at Shalem. He was born in Boston but made aliyah with his family at 12.
"It's nice to get a slightly different angle than that of mainstream Israeli academia, particularly among universities here in Israel, which have a strong left bent. Shalem is mostly centrist, if not right of center," Reichert said.
While he has an eye toward a career in business, Reichert believes it is important to study philosophy for his own enrichment.
"It was a breath of fresh air taking early modern philosophers seriously again," he said of his Shalem philosophy classes. "In the academic world, the focus is on [Immanuel] Kant and afterwards."
Shalem leaders estimate that it will take about three years before it will obtain a permit from Israel's Council of Higher Education to run its Hebrew-language B.A. program. Colleges seeking accreditation must fill out lengthy paperwork for each major and fulfill a number of requirements regarding faculty and facilities. In the meantime, Shalem has launched a pilot program that offers free university-level courses to a select group of college students.
According to Dr. Nitza Davidovitch, director of planning and assessment at Ariel University Center, Israel's largest academic college, founding a new school of higher education in Israel is an ambitious but doable undertaking. Davidovitch completed her doctorate on the impact of new Israeli colleges on the larger universities.
"Many of the new academic colleges started from the ground up, often as a nondegree-granting college or institute, usually to answer a need, while others began as a satellite of another university," she said.
As of 2007, Israel's schools of higher education consisted of eight universities, 27 public academic colleges, 27 teacher training colleges, eight private colleges and 17 foreign branches. "With more and more institutions being founded today," Davidovitch said, "the criteria are more significant, more standardized and stricter."
Humanities, she thinks, are a tougher sell to Israelis. "Humanities in general are in trouble," Davidovitch said. "Even universities know this. Not many students want to study humanities. They want something practical, useful. The average student after the army asks, 'What will I do with my degree.' Humanities are important, and there is a question if there is a public for it. We assume there are some crazies who want it. It may catch on."
Professor Israel Bartal, Hebrew University dean of humanities, welcomes the concept of a liberal arts college in Israel but decries an ideologically motivated one, particularly one predicated on what he considers a skewed view of Zionism and an unfair attack on mainstream Zionist education in Israel.
A professor of history and a self-proclaimed Zionist, Bartal has been a vocal critic of Hazony's book, "The Jewish State: The Struggle for Israel's Soul," in which Hazony presents anti-Zionist leanings of the founders of Hebrew University.
"Unfortunately, I'm not inclined to share anything that is described at the Shalem Center as Zionist. For me, Zionism is much broader. It's not an American neoconservative tag or American image," Bartal said in an interview in the plush and bustling faculty lounge at Hebrew University's Givat Ram campus during the professors' strike, which was resolved in late January. About forty percent of the students were still attending classes at the time of the interview. "We're talking about the complexity of life and culture in Israel," Bartal said. "I'm afraid these people have to go back to classic texts of Zionism and polish their Zionism to understand what it is about."
He deflects Hazony's accusations regarding the ideological hegemony of academia. "Some of the founders of the Greater Israel movement teach in the history department," Bartal said. "In order to claim there is a majority of one group or another, you have to come up with a full list of professors. Since Israel is a democracy and a Western country, we never ask for political credentials when we hire faculty, and we are proud of that."
Despite his unabashed disdain for Hazony's ideas and what he believes is a faulty prognosis of higher education in Israel, Bartal agrees that humanities education in Israel will be well-served by moving toward American educational models. He is leading a reform in his own department based on the recommendations of Dr. John Gager of Princeton, starting with instituting writing classes for it students. "The combination of Jewish humanities and what we call general humanities -- we share the general idea," he said. "But I'm not claiming we are trying to shape a generation of Jewish leaders. This is beyond our scope."
Hazony continues to contend that humanities education in Israel is dominated by an ideological wing that seeks control over certain ideas coming out of academic establishments.
Fear of competition in the marketplace of ideas, he believes, is behind a cover story on Shalem in the influential, left-leaning Israeli daily, Ha'aretz, last November. The article covered the former chief financial officer's alleged embezzlement of funds and accused Shalem with gross management problems, including excessive turnover, extravagant spending and nepotism.
Hazony is not deterred by the negative publicity.
The article, he said, "does its best to end on the note of ridiculing the idea of a new college, because their hope is that by making it seem that it's illegitimate or unnecessary or absurd to have liberal arts education in Israel, then it won't happen," he said. "But it will happen."
Click here for full article
This is one in a series of articles on myriad topics related to Israel that will run weekly as we approach the Jewish State's 60th anniversary on Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel Independence Day, in May.
Dr. Daniel Gordis At a time when most Israeli university professors were on strike, Dr. Yoram Hazony, co-founder of the Shalem Center, a think tank and research institute, continued with his course schedule as usual at the center's handsome, three-story building in the upscale German Colony neighborhood of Jerusalem. He was recapping for Israeli college students alternate ways Western philosophers have solved the dichotomy between the world of ideas and reality. The bookshelves of the small conference room were lined with talmudic and biblical books as well journals on Zionism, political thought and philosophy, many of them Shalem titles.
If all goes well, this course will be included in the curriculum of a new College of the Jewish People, an idea Hazony is determined to bridge with reality in the face of challenges invovled in starting such a college: accreditation, funding, recruitment of student and faculty and resistance by some members of the Israeli media and academic establishment.
Israeli-born and raised in the United States, Hazony first envisioned a college for the Jewish people while an undergraduate student at Princeton, where he describes discussing religion, philosophy and politics late into the night with friends in the kosher dining hall. While seeking answers to questions relating to Jewish identity, it soon became clear to him that an American Ivy League college, whose credo was to prepare leaders "in the nation's service," could not prepare leaders in the service of the Jewish nation.
"The idea of the Jewish liberal arts college began with the question: What would Jews or non-Jews interested in the Jewish perspective need to study in order to think about the biggest questions from a perspective that's relevant to Jews," Hazony said in an interview in his office.
He founded the Shalem Center in 1994 with others from Princeton, Daniel Polisar, currently Shalem's president, and Dr. Joshua Weinstein. Hazony believes the groundwork has now been laid to realize Shalem College.
Shalem has grown from a think tank with a staff of three to an institute operating on a $10 million yearly budget with a staff of 100. Most of its funding comes from the Tikva Fund, created by the late philanthropist Zalman Bernstein. In recent months the center has been the subject of scrutiny for internal administrative problems and in the past Hazony's critiques of Israeli education have been the subject of controversy. Nevertheless, it has established its influence internationally.
Shalem runs six research institutes and its own press, and its senior fellows include best-selling author and historian Michael Oren, former Knesset member Natan Sharansky and former Israeli Chief of Staff Moshe Ya'alon.
Last year, Shalem recruited Dr. Daniel Gordis to spearhead the creation of the college. Gordis made news in Los Angeles in 1999, when he announced that he was making aliyah with his family five years after serving as founding dean of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the University of Judaism (now the American Jewish University). The Ziegler school was the first Conservative rabbinical school on the West Coast, and Gordis' new position will enable him to once again make Jewish educational history.
"If you can come in on the ground floor of something that you think has the capacity to dramatically transform the country, then that seems to be the ultimate concretization of the ideal of aliyah in a way that nothing else could be," Gordis said from his new office on the Shalem campus, where he serves as senior vice president.
The college is planned as an American-style, four-year liberal arts school, an educational model that doesn't exist in Israel. Israelis usually enter a three-year college or university program in their early-to-mid-20s, right after army service, choosing their majors straightaway. Israeli universities generally don't share American campus or dorm culture. Most students view their college years as vocational training and commute to school, often juggling their studies with a full- or part-time job.
"We want to change the experience of what being an undergraduate student is about," Gordis said.
Shalem envisions an isolated, rural, full-fledged university campus modeled after American schools like Williams College and Bryn Mawr.
"We want to create a cocoon, not an ivory tower, where people can read and think and sit on a lawn and read Plato and Aristotle and [Rabbi Joseph B.] Soloveichik and [Zionist thinker Micah Joseph] Berdichevski," Gordis said.
What will differentiate Shalem College from most American universities is an emphasis on an integrated core curriculum that combines studies in Bible, Talmud, rabbinic literature and Zionist and Jewish thought with Western philosophy, political theory and Middle Eastern studies.
"It's going to be a college that takes Jewish ideas seriously and the Zionist narrative seriously, even though you can critique it," Gordis said. Shalem has developed a reputation as a politically conservative institute, but Gordis stressed that the college will accommodate a wide range of political views, minus anti-Zionist views: "People who think Zionism has nothing to do with the Jewish world wouldn't want to be here."
Anti-Zionism and post-Zionism viewpoints, which question the basic conception, relevance or moral basis of the Jewish state, have plagued humanities departments in Israeli universities since the country's founding, said Hazony, provost of the college. In addition, he has observed that Judaism and the Bible have been cast as minor characters in the narrative of the development of Western civilization, not only abroad but in the Jewish state.
"The history of political theory is taught from a perspective that assumed that the Bible, Talmud and later literature had no influence at all in what we think today. This is historically false," Hazony said.
He hopes the college will revive the recognition and prominence of the role of Judaism and the Bible in shaping modern democratic ideas. Jack Reichert, 27, is complementing his university studies in philosophy with studies at Shalem. He was born in Boston but made aliyah with his family at 12.
"It's nice to get a slightly different angle than that of mainstream Israeli academia, particularly among universities here in Israel, which have a strong left bent. Shalem is mostly centrist, if not right of center," Reichert said.
While he has an eye toward a career in business, Reichert believes it is important to study philosophy for his own enrichment.
"It was a breath of fresh air taking early modern philosophers seriously again," he said of his Shalem philosophy classes. "In the academic world, the focus is on [Immanuel] Kant and afterwards."
Shalem leaders estimate that it will take about three years before it will obtain a permit from Israel's Council of Higher Education to run its Hebrew-language B.A. program. Colleges seeking accreditation must fill out lengthy paperwork for each major and fulfill a number of requirements regarding faculty and facilities. In the meantime, Shalem has launched a pilot program that offers free university-level courses to a select group of college students.
According to Dr. Nitza Davidovitch, director of planning and assessment at Ariel University Center, Israel's largest academic college, founding a new school of higher education in Israel is an ambitious but doable undertaking. Davidovitch completed her doctorate on the impact of new Israeli colleges on the larger universities.
"Many of the new academic colleges started from the ground up, often as a nondegree-granting college or institute, usually to answer a need, while others began as a satellite of another university," she said.
As of 2007, Israel's schools of higher education consisted of eight universities, 27 public academic colleges, 27 teacher training colleges, eight private colleges and 17 foreign branches. "With more and more institutions being founded today," Davidovitch said, "the criteria are more significant, more standardized and stricter."
Humanities, she thinks, are a tougher sell to Israelis. "Humanities in general are in trouble," Davidovitch said. "Even universities know this. Not many students want to study humanities. They want something practical, useful. The average student after the army asks, 'What will I do with my degree.' Humanities are important, and there is a question if there is a public for it. We assume there are some crazies who want it. It may catch on."
Professor Israel Bartal, Hebrew University dean of humanities, welcomes the concept of a liberal arts college in Israel but decries an ideologically motivated one, particularly one predicated on what he considers a skewed view of Zionism and an unfair attack on mainstream Zionist education in Israel.
A professor of history and a self-proclaimed Zionist, Bartal has been a vocal critic of Hazony's book, "The Jewish State: The Struggle for Israel's Soul," in which Hazony presents anti-Zionist leanings of the founders of Hebrew University.
"Unfortunately, I'm not inclined to share anything that is described at the Shalem Center as Zionist. For me, Zionism is much broader. It's not an American neoconservative tag or American image," Bartal said in an interview in the plush and bustling faculty lounge at Hebrew University's Givat Ram campus during the professors' strike, which was resolved in late January. About forty percent of the students were still attending classes at the time of the interview. "We're talking about the complexity of life and culture in Israel," Bartal said. "I'm afraid these people have to go back to classic texts of Zionism and polish their Zionism to understand what it is about."
He deflects Hazony's accusations regarding the ideological hegemony of academia. "Some of the founders of the Greater Israel movement teach in the history department," Bartal said. "In order to claim there is a majority of one group or another, you have to come up with a full list of professors. Since Israel is a democracy and a Western country, we never ask for political credentials when we hire faculty, and we are proud of that."
Despite his unabashed disdain for Hazony's ideas and what he believes is a faulty prognosis of higher education in Israel, Bartal agrees that humanities education in Israel will be well-served by moving toward American educational models. He is leading a reform in his own department based on the recommendations of Dr. John Gager of Princeton, starting with instituting writing classes for it students. "The combination of Jewish humanities and what we call general humanities -- we share the general idea," he said. "But I'm not claiming we are trying to shape a generation of Jewish leaders. This is beyond our scope."
Hazony continues to contend that humanities education in Israel is dominated by an ideological wing that seeks control over certain ideas coming out of academic establishments.
Fear of competition in the marketplace of ideas, he believes, is behind a cover story on Shalem in the influential, left-leaning Israeli daily, Ha'aretz, last November. The article covered the former chief financial officer's alleged embezzlement of funds and accused Shalem with gross management problems, including excessive turnover, extravagant spending and nepotism.
Hazony is not deterred by the negative publicity.
The article, he said, "does its best to end on the note of ridiculing the idea of a new college, because their hope is that by making it seem that it's illegitimate or unnecessary or absurd to have liberal arts education in Israel, then it won't happen," he said. "But it will happen."
Monday, February 25, 2008
Mirror, mirror of the mall, who's the fairest of them all?
Jerusalem Post, Daily; February 25, 2008
Click here for original
'Jerusalem Post' reporter Orit Arfa decides to dabble in the world of amateur Israeli pageantry
One Friday afternoon, I took a stroll to my neighborhood mall in Jerusalem to buy party favors for my upcoming 31st birthday bash. The minute I saw a poster on the entrance advertising the mall's second annual "Prettiest of Women" beauty pageant for women ages 30+, I knew I had to enter. "Like wine, women get better with age," read the poster - quite a comforting birthday message, and lo and behold, the audition was being held on my birthday. This would be my birthday - and Valentine's - gift to myself. The contest was scheduled for February 14, Valentine's Day.
I remember growing up loving American pageants but never really believing that I ever had what it takes to participate in one. But this contest was less intimidating - and, it seemed - winnable.
The audition process was extremely casual. It took place at the underground offices of the mall. They had me fill out a short application and write what makes me unique. I wrote that as an immigrant from Los Angeles, I would add an American touch to the competition. After all, aren't beauty pageants and malls American inventions?
I passed the audition, which drew about 40 women. They consisted of 13 women ages 30 to 52: two nurses, two makeup artists, an optometrist, an aerobics instructor, an artist, a secretary, a sales person, a director of a community center, a director of a Judaica factory, an aesthetician, a grandmother and me - the Jerusalem Post journalist.
At our first rehearsal we were asked to bring high heels. I didn't own any, so I had to buy a few cheap pairs (we were not funded for extra shoes and accessories, unfortunately.) The mall, however, would dress us up for the casual wear and evening gown portions of the competition with clothes from mall boutiques.
At the first rehearsal, we met the pageant director, Guy Glicksman, an attractive man with spiky platinum blonde hair who organizes fashion shows. He wore a fabulous scarf around his neck and a slight air of stylish snobbery. He immediately announced that he would put us to hard work.
First we had to learn how to walk like fashion models, and let me tell you - it's not as easy as it seems. When it was my turn to strut my stuff, I got the thumbs down.
"You bounce too much," Guy told me.
I spent the whole week in shoe stores - looking for more comfortable heels and practicing my walk. If 18-year- old girls without high school diplomas can do it, why can't I?
Fortunately, I improved. At the next rehearsal, Guy said my walk was "great," but I crossed my legs over a bit too much.
For three full weeks since the audition I think every contestant became unusually conscious of their looks, clothing, and personal style. I felt an uncontrollable desire to shop and upgrade my own wardrobe. I was glad to rediscover the sexiness of high heels, and on the day of the contest I discovered how big, curly and fluffy my hair could get - to the extent that I should have been introduced as Orit "Afro."
I noticed how some women underwent a complete makeover. One lady came in with bright red lipstick and short, dyed blonde hair. Guy had her dye her hair a darker shade, and the makeup artists dressed her face in mauves and pinks. It was quite a positive transformation.
Some women fussed more than others about their hair and makeup. I'm sure if we had to spend a few more days with each other a few verbal catfights might have broken out. But we were all mature women, over 30. Most were married with children.
I admit I wanted to win. The winner was going to get a free trip to Rome, and then, of course, the prestige of being a beauty queen. I thought I had a good chance. Hani the hair dresser told me he was rooting for me, and a man who worked at the camera store nearby assured me I would get first place. My family members told me I was the prettiest, but then again, they're family.
On the day of the contest, I realized the rehearsals didn't really prepare us for the contest. We never conducted a dress rehearsal on the short runway. Hundreds of people, mostly family members of the contestants, gathered around the runway cheering their favorites. I don't think the crowd wanted that icy strut that Guy favored, but a smiley, friendly, girl-next-door approach. But I walked down mean and serious for the judges.
We all waited on our heels at a dress store behind the runway as dancers and singers entertained the crowd in between our walks. At that point I wanted to rest my sore feet more than I wanted to win. I learned firsthand why feminists don't like heels. They can be torture.
Finally, I heard my name called on the microphone. To my surprise, I won this year's new category, "Havivat Hakahal" (Mall's Favorite). I guess it's like the popular vote.
I don't know the criteria for this award. Maybe the mall management was afraid that if I didn't win I'd write something nasty in the papers (and maybe I'd have been a little less diplomatic in my narrative had I not taken a title). Maybe they wanted ethnic balance. The second runner-up was a 33-year-old (blonde?) Israeli, the first runner-up was a 31-year-old Arab-Israeli, and the winner was a 39-year-old Russian-Israeli.
Or maybe, we just all deserved it, although I know some wouldn't agree.
I do know that it feels really good to have won something and to have participated in the contest. When done with taste, I personally believe that beauty contests are an excellent way of honoring women and helping them boost their confidence, sense of self, and personal style - for a better future for our children, of course.
Click here for original
'Jerusalem Post' reporter Orit Arfa decides to dabble in the world of amateur Israeli pageantry
One Friday afternoon, I took a stroll to my neighborhood mall in Jerusalem to buy party favors for my upcoming 31st birthday bash. The minute I saw a poster on the entrance advertising the mall's second annual "Prettiest of Women" beauty pageant for women ages 30+, I knew I had to enter. "Like wine, women get better with age," read the poster - quite a comforting birthday message, and lo and behold, the audition was being held on my birthday. This would be my birthday - and Valentine's - gift to myself. The contest was scheduled for February 14, Valentine's Day.
I remember growing up loving American pageants but never really believing that I ever had what it takes to participate in one. But this contest was less intimidating - and, it seemed - winnable.
The audition process was extremely casual. It took place at the underground offices of the mall. They had me fill out a short application and write what makes me unique. I wrote that as an immigrant from Los Angeles, I would add an American touch to the competition. After all, aren't beauty pageants and malls American inventions?
I passed the audition, which drew about 40 women. They consisted of 13 women ages 30 to 52: two nurses, two makeup artists, an optometrist, an aerobics instructor, an artist, a secretary, a sales person, a director of a community center, a director of a Judaica factory, an aesthetician, a grandmother and me - the Jerusalem Post journalist.
At our first rehearsal we were asked to bring high heels. I didn't own any, so I had to buy a few cheap pairs (we were not funded for extra shoes and accessories, unfortunately.) The mall, however, would dress us up for the casual wear and evening gown portions of the competition with clothes from mall boutiques.
At the first rehearsal, we met the pageant director, Guy Glicksman, an attractive man with spiky platinum blonde hair who organizes fashion shows. He wore a fabulous scarf around his neck and a slight air of stylish snobbery. He immediately announced that he would put us to hard work.
First we had to learn how to walk like fashion models, and let me tell you - it's not as easy as it seems. When it was my turn to strut my stuff, I got the thumbs down.
"You bounce too much," Guy told me.
I spent the whole week in shoe stores - looking for more comfortable heels and practicing my walk. If 18-year- old girls without high school diplomas can do it, why can't I?
Fortunately, I improved. At the next rehearsal, Guy said my walk was "great," but I crossed my legs over a bit too much.
For three full weeks since the audition I think every contestant became unusually conscious of their looks, clothing, and personal style. I felt an uncontrollable desire to shop and upgrade my own wardrobe. I was glad to rediscover the sexiness of high heels, and on the day of the contest I discovered how big, curly and fluffy my hair could get - to the extent that I should have been introduced as Orit "Afro."
I noticed how some women underwent a complete makeover. One lady came in with bright red lipstick and short, dyed blonde hair. Guy had her dye her hair a darker shade, and the makeup artists dressed her face in mauves and pinks. It was quite a positive transformation.
Some women fussed more than others about their hair and makeup. I'm sure if we had to spend a few more days with each other a few verbal catfights might have broken out. But we were all mature women, over 30. Most were married with children.
I admit I wanted to win. The winner was going to get a free trip to Rome, and then, of course, the prestige of being a beauty queen. I thought I had a good chance. Hani the hair dresser told me he was rooting for me, and a man who worked at the camera store nearby assured me I would get first place. My family members told me I was the prettiest, but then again, they're family.
On the day of the contest, I realized the rehearsals didn't really prepare us for the contest. We never conducted a dress rehearsal on the short runway. Hundreds of people, mostly family members of the contestants, gathered around the runway cheering their favorites. I don't think the crowd wanted that icy strut that Guy favored, but a smiley, friendly, girl-next-door approach. But I walked down mean and serious for the judges.
We all waited on our heels at a dress store behind the runway as dancers and singers entertained the crowd in between our walks. At that point I wanted to rest my sore feet more than I wanted to win. I learned firsthand why feminists don't like heels. They can be torture.
Finally, I heard my name called on the microphone. To my surprise, I won this year's new category, "Havivat Hakahal" (Mall's Favorite). I guess it's like the popular vote.
I don't know the criteria for this award. Maybe the mall management was afraid that if I didn't win I'd write something nasty in the papers (and maybe I'd have been a little less diplomatic in my narrative had I not taken a title). Maybe they wanted ethnic balance. The second runner-up was a 33-year-old (blonde?) Israeli, the first runner-up was a 31-year-old Arab-Israeli, and the winner was a 39-year-old Russian-Israeli.
Or maybe, we just all deserved it, although I know some wouldn't agree.
I do know that it feels really good to have won something and to have participated in the contest. When done with taste, I personally believe that beauty contests are an excellent way of honoring women and helping them boost their confidence, sense of self, and personal style - for a better future for our children, of course.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The white stuff (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; February 14, 2008
In-house masseurs, a huge lounge area, plasma screens for watching the game and a dining area downstairs. Is Lavan trying to be all things to all people?
Located in the Herzliya industrial compound, Lavan Supperbar is Israel's answer to Amsterdam's SupperClub - an upscale restaurant merging nightlife and lounging. Lavan opens at 7 p.m., making it an option for dinner and drinks only.
A bubbly, affable man named Shefer greeted us at the host station. Shefer, we quickly learned, is like the house entertainment, indulging customers with jokes and conversation. He took us to our seat at Lavan's lower tier, a sleekly designed restaurant with a rectangular bar at its heart. Tables along the wall are separated by blinds to allow for intimacy and coziness.
As the efficient but rather unfriendly waitress took our order, we wistfully eyed the upper lounge above - Lavan's major attraction. The upper tier looked heavenly with its fluffy white cushioned seating areas decorated with plasma screens showcasing video art. Shefer apologized that all lounge areas were reserved, but, attuned to our disappointment, he worked his magic and graciously seated us upstairs minutes later.
We sat back and relaxed in the cushions and began to understand why Lavan is called Lavan (white). The ceilings, floors and cubed light shades are colored in white hues broken up by red, black and yellow furniture. Gadi Halperin (of Spaghettim and Kyoto fame) and Agnon Granot designed Lavan with urban, hi-techy overtones.
The waitress upstairs turned out to be friendlier than the one below, and as we waited for our appetizers, I wondered if Lavan relied on its lofty concept to draw crowds or if the Mediterranean-tinged menu food would justify the restaurant without the concept.
The shrimp in a buttery tomato sauce (NIS 49) certainly made the grade. Ilan Hefetz, the chef at Lavan for the last six months, did an admirable job cooking the shrimp to perfection. The asparagus wrapped in beef fillet (NIS 49) was overall successful, but at the end of one tip a bit of the tasty, peppery meat got difficult to chew, and I couldn't identify the cause in the dim lighting. Was the meat undercooked or did I come upon a piece of gristle?
At that point I wondered if we should have eaten dinner at the lower level where I could sit at a proper table with proper lighting, and then go up to the top for drinks. But we looked down and only two tables and a few bar stools were occupied downstairs; not so inviting.
So I decided to relax with the in-house massage. The massage therapist floating around gave me the option of having the massage on the cushions or at a treatment bed located in a corner of the balcony. I opted for the treatment bed because my back was particularly sore. But it was difficult to truly relax as I lay on the bed. The chatter and music distracted me. I might as well have taken the massage on the cushions just for fun and not as a serious attempt to soothe my aching muscles.
When I returned to our seating corner, I noticed a soccer game being broadcast on the wall - probably for the bar-goers below - and it put a dent on the groovy, relaxed vibe. For a moment I felt like I was in the living room of some soccer fans.
But we managed to ignore the game as our entree arrived. The lighting made it difficult for me to gauge the cut and exact color of the meat of my entrecote steak (NIS 98), but it struck me as medium-rare and not medium as I ordered. In his forgivable, quippy style, Sheffer cheekily accused me of not having developed my taste buds for steak - I should be able to judge a steak in dim lighting - but he amiably took it back to the grill. It came back with a few burnt edges, but overall the meat tasted good. The mashed potatos were mediocre. Was the dish worth the price?
My dining partner had absolutely no complaints about her sea bass wrapped in chard (NIS 94) on a bed of quinoa. She called it one of the best dishes she had ever tasted.
As we were about to leave we noticed several couples getting cozy and even a little tipsy on the sofas nearby, while the lower level hadn't yet filled up. I asked Shefer why they don't convert the lower level to a lounge area, and he said that the lower level started out as a lounge, but that ultimately they decided to create a hybrid. By no means has Lavan neglected the culinary side of its concept, but with all the restaurants in the Herzliya's industrial zone, I wonder if Lavan's menu is distinctive enough to attract diners only.
Lavan is a recommended option for a romantic date or for a group party. Minus the soccer game it is intimate, sexy and different. It might just need a better integration of the upper and lower levels.
Rehov Abba Eban 27, Herzliya,
(09) 958-6080, www.supperbar.com.
In-house masseurs, a huge lounge area, plasma screens for watching the game and a dining area downstairs. Is Lavan trying to be all things to all people?
Located in the Herzliya industrial compound, Lavan Supperbar is Israel's answer to Amsterdam's SupperClub - an upscale restaurant merging nightlife and lounging. Lavan opens at 7 p.m., making it an option for dinner and drinks only.
A bubbly, affable man named Shefer greeted us at the host station. Shefer, we quickly learned, is like the house entertainment, indulging customers with jokes and conversation. He took us to our seat at Lavan's lower tier, a sleekly designed restaurant with a rectangular bar at its heart. Tables along the wall are separated by blinds to allow for intimacy and coziness.
As the efficient but rather unfriendly waitress took our order, we wistfully eyed the upper lounge above - Lavan's major attraction. The upper tier looked heavenly with its fluffy white cushioned seating areas decorated with plasma screens showcasing video art. Shefer apologized that all lounge areas were reserved, but, attuned to our disappointment, he worked his magic and graciously seated us upstairs minutes later.
We sat back and relaxed in the cushions and began to understand why Lavan is called Lavan (white). The ceilings, floors and cubed light shades are colored in white hues broken up by red, black and yellow furniture. Gadi Halperin (of Spaghettim and Kyoto fame) and Agnon Granot designed Lavan with urban, hi-techy overtones.
The waitress upstairs turned out to be friendlier than the one below, and as we waited for our appetizers, I wondered if Lavan relied on its lofty concept to draw crowds or if the Mediterranean-tinged menu food would justify the restaurant without the concept.
The shrimp in a buttery tomato sauce (NIS 49) certainly made the grade. Ilan Hefetz, the chef at Lavan for the last six months, did an admirable job cooking the shrimp to perfection. The asparagus wrapped in beef fillet (NIS 49) was overall successful, but at the end of one tip a bit of the tasty, peppery meat got difficult to chew, and I couldn't identify the cause in the dim lighting. Was the meat undercooked or did I come upon a piece of gristle?
At that point I wondered if we should have eaten dinner at the lower level where I could sit at a proper table with proper lighting, and then go up to the top for drinks. But we looked down and only two tables and a few bar stools were occupied downstairs; not so inviting.
So I decided to relax with the in-house massage. The massage therapist floating around gave me the option of having the massage on the cushions or at a treatment bed located in a corner of the balcony. I opted for the treatment bed because my back was particularly sore. But it was difficult to truly relax as I lay on the bed. The chatter and music distracted me. I might as well have taken the massage on the cushions just for fun and not as a serious attempt to soothe my aching muscles.
When I returned to our seating corner, I noticed a soccer game being broadcast on the wall - probably for the bar-goers below - and it put a dent on the groovy, relaxed vibe. For a moment I felt like I was in the living room of some soccer fans.
But we managed to ignore the game as our entree arrived. The lighting made it difficult for me to gauge the cut and exact color of the meat of my entrecote steak (NIS 98), but it struck me as medium-rare and not medium as I ordered. In his forgivable, quippy style, Sheffer cheekily accused me of not having developed my taste buds for steak - I should be able to judge a steak in dim lighting - but he amiably took it back to the grill. It came back with a few burnt edges, but overall the meat tasted good. The mashed potatos were mediocre. Was the dish worth the price?
My dining partner had absolutely no complaints about her sea bass wrapped in chard (NIS 94) on a bed of quinoa. She called it one of the best dishes she had ever tasted.
As we were about to leave we noticed several couples getting cozy and even a little tipsy on the sofas nearby, while the lower level hadn't yet filled up. I asked Shefer why they don't convert the lower level to a lounge area, and he said that the lower level started out as a lounge, but that ultimately they decided to create a hybrid. By no means has Lavan neglected the culinary side of its concept, but with all the restaurants in the Herzliya's industrial zone, I wonder if Lavan's menu is distinctive enough to attract diners only.
Lavan is a recommended option for a romantic date or for a group party. Minus the soccer game it is intimate, sexy and different. It might just need a better integration of the upper and lower levels.
Rehov Abba Eban 27, Herzliya,
(09) 958-6080, www.supperbar.com.
They’re saving me from ‘spinsterhood’
The Jewish Journal; February 14, 2008
Click here for original
A girlfriend and I decided to meet at a mega-bar in Jerusalem to catch up -- and not to pick up or be picked up; I've long abandoned the prospect of meeting my prince charming at a bar, particularly this one, which isn't known for its intellectual clientele.
Sitting at the bar, my friend and I began talking, and a mildly handsome guy and his friends took the stools next to us. In a bid at picking me up, the guy stroked my "Kotel ring."
"What's this ring?" he asked. I briefly explained that it was styled after the Western Wall with my name gilded in gold. Eager not to give him any encouraging signals, I turned back to my friend.
During a lull in our girl-talk, the guy turned to me again and asked me what I do for a living, adding: "You look like someone important."
That's an original pick-up line, and since I'm as happy as anyone for an ego-boost, I asked him what he meant.
"You look sophisticated, highly intelligent and very sexy. I think that one day I'll see you on television."
Note to men: Flattery always works. He got my full attention. He introduced himself as Guy, and, with my full blessing, began to psychoanalyze me. He told me that I looked out of place and that my demeanor was unapproachable, intimidating, even condescending. I agreed that at times I can be snobby, so he advised me to start giving people a chance, to stop judging people superficially. He announced that he has special intuitive powers -- it runs in his Tunisian family -- and that he could foresee that if I didn't lower my dating standards, I'd end up very alone. He took his forecast a step further by telling me that if he were to take me out to dinner, he'd have to put on "boxing gloves" -- for I'm not easy -- but he's ready for the challenge. I'm not necessarily his physical type, but I intrigued him.
I was tempted by the offer and fascinated by his assessments -- I know I'm not a typical woman of my age -- but I wasn't tempted enough to give him my number. I settled for a drink invitation, and as the night wore on, my friend and I took a stroll around the bar to browse.
Guy followed us, and I realized that, while he was amusing, I just wasn't into him. Thanks to his great intuitive powers, he sensed this and turned to my friend, who also wanted to be psychoanalyzed. He told her that she likes to be around powerful people. Then he asked for her number. Gee, I guess I wasn't so special after all, and he was just another "guy."
A few days later, a friend set me up. While this guy was a little too nerdy looking for my taste -- with his rimless glasses, Elvis-like sideburns and bookish demeanor -- I nevertheless decided to go for it, to follow Guy's advice and "lower my dating standards."
This fellow, too, works as a journalist, and, unlike Guy, his approach was refined and polite. Our first date at an Irish pub was rather pleasant. The conversation generally flowed, and I forgave his strange, triangular sideburns and the fact that he deliberately didn't leave the waitress a tip. He didn't seem well-versed in dating etiquette, and it took him four days before he asked me out again. When he did, he had me choose the time and venue. I was a little put off by his passivity.
Eventually, his slow pace simply frustrated me, and I guess I didn't like him enough to keep trying my patience. He couldn't get his act together to plan a third date, and I told him that I didn't think it was going to work. "Too bad," he muttered sadly over the phone.
A few days later, I was surprised by a letter -- via snail mail -- in which he confessed his feelings for me through elegant calligraphy on nice stationery. He wrote that he knows he missed a step, that on the last date he had longed to kiss me (on the the tip of the ear, for whatever reason), and that he wants another chance. Over e-mail, I gently declined.
He responded with a line that went something like this: You're afraid of falling in love, and to avoid developing a long-term relationship you come up with obscure excuses. I can help cure this psychosis.
This time, I wasn't so gentle in my rejection.
So is this the new line that men attempt with women over 30: "Let me save you from your fear of intimacy"? Do they think we are so afraid of ending up as spinsters that they have to appeal to our lonely femininity? Are they so afraid of rejection that they have to resort to emotional blackmail?
Why can't a man just say: "I'm into you! I really like you -- your looks, your mind, your soul. I want to get to know you. Let's spend time together." And keep it at that!
If we are compatible, maybe a relationship will develop. And if we like each other -- then, yes, feed me the line, please! Tell me that you will stick it out with me when I get needy or complex or difficult and that we will push each other to grow as people and as partners. For I'm not afraid of intimacy -- I want to be in an exciting, healthy, happy relationship -- I'm just afraid of intimacy with the wrong man.
And the man who uses the pick-up line "let me rescue you from your early 30s neuroticism" is definitely the wrong man.
Click here for original
A girlfriend and I decided to meet at a mega-bar in Jerusalem to catch up -- and not to pick up or be picked up; I've long abandoned the prospect of meeting my prince charming at a bar, particularly this one, which isn't known for its intellectual clientele.
Sitting at the bar, my friend and I began talking, and a mildly handsome guy and his friends took the stools next to us. In a bid at picking me up, the guy stroked my "Kotel ring."
"What's this ring?" he asked. I briefly explained that it was styled after the Western Wall with my name gilded in gold. Eager not to give him any encouraging signals, I turned back to my friend.
During a lull in our girl-talk, the guy turned to me again and asked me what I do for a living, adding: "You look like someone important."
That's an original pick-up line, and since I'm as happy as anyone for an ego-boost, I asked him what he meant.
"You look sophisticated, highly intelligent and very sexy. I think that one day I'll see you on television."
Note to men: Flattery always works. He got my full attention. He introduced himself as Guy, and, with my full blessing, began to psychoanalyze me. He told me that I looked out of place and that my demeanor was unapproachable, intimidating, even condescending. I agreed that at times I can be snobby, so he advised me to start giving people a chance, to stop judging people superficially. He announced that he has special intuitive powers -- it runs in his Tunisian family -- and that he could foresee that if I didn't lower my dating standards, I'd end up very alone. He took his forecast a step further by telling me that if he were to take me out to dinner, he'd have to put on "boxing gloves" -- for I'm not easy -- but he's ready for the challenge. I'm not necessarily his physical type, but I intrigued him.
I was tempted by the offer and fascinated by his assessments -- I know I'm not a typical woman of my age -- but I wasn't tempted enough to give him my number. I settled for a drink invitation, and as the night wore on, my friend and I took a stroll around the bar to browse.
Guy followed us, and I realized that, while he was amusing, I just wasn't into him. Thanks to his great intuitive powers, he sensed this and turned to my friend, who also wanted to be psychoanalyzed. He told her that she likes to be around powerful people. Then he asked for her number. Gee, I guess I wasn't so special after all, and he was just another "guy."
A few days later, a friend set me up. While this guy was a little too nerdy looking for my taste -- with his rimless glasses, Elvis-like sideburns and bookish demeanor -- I nevertheless decided to go for it, to follow Guy's advice and "lower my dating standards."
This fellow, too, works as a journalist, and, unlike Guy, his approach was refined and polite. Our first date at an Irish pub was rather pleasant. The conversation generally flowed, and I forgave his strange, triangular sideburns and the fact that he deliberately didn't leave the waitress a tip. He didn't seem well-versed in dating etiquette, and it took him four days before he asked me out again. When he did, he had me choose the time and venue. I was a little put off by his passivity.
Eventually, his slow pace simply frustrated me, and I guess I didn't like him enough to keep trying my patience. He couldn't get his act together to plan a third date, and I told him that I didn't think it was going to work. "Too bad," he muttered sadly over the phone.
A few days later, I was surprised by a letter -- via snail mail -- in which he confessed his feelings for me through elegant calligraphy on nice stationery. He wrote that he knows he missed a step, that on the last date he had longed to kiss me (on the the tip of the ear, for whatever reason), and that he wants another chance. Over e-mail, I gently declined.
He responded with a line that went something like this: You're afraid of falling in love, and to avoid developing a long-term relationship you come up with obscure excuses. I can help cure this psychosis.
This time, I wasn't so gentle in my rejection.
So is this the new line that men attempt with women over 30: "Let me save you from your fear of intimacy"? Do they think we are so afraid of ending up as spinsters that they have to appeal to our lonely femininity? Are they so afraid of rejection that they have to resort to emotional blackmail?
Why can't a man just say: "I'm into you! I really like you -- your looks, your mind, your soul. I want to get to know you. Let's spend time together." And keep it at that!
If we are compatible, maybe a relationship will develop. And if we like each other -- then, yes, feed me the line, please! Tell me that you will stick it out with me when I get needy or complex or difficult and that we will push each other to grow as people and as partners. For I'm not afraid of intimacy -- I want to be in an exciting, healthy, happy relationship -- I'm just afraid of intimacy with the wrong man.
And the man who uses the pick-up line "let me rescue you from your early 30s neuroticism" is definitely the wrong man.
Friday, February 8, 2008
A place to play (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; February 8, 2008
'One of my first memories is of my grandmother bringing me to a toy store for Hanukka," recalls Elad Varon, co-owner of the new Toy lounge-bar in the center of Jerusalem. Varon, also a DJ, is best remembered by the capital's partiers as publicist and manager of Haoman 17 (when it was still a nightclub).
Everyone who grew up in Jerusalem about two decades ago wistfully remembers House of Toys, he says - a fantasy land of three stories filled with toys of every kind. Now that Varon's all grown-up at 30, he and his partners have turned the former toy store into a nightlife playground where beautiful secular adults can make other fantasies come true.
"It was a dump. There was nothing here," Varon says of his return to the site off Jaffa Road to check it out as a potential venue. But he and his partners, who include Jerusalem nightlife hotshot Adi Talmor (of Colony, Layla Bar and Sushi Rehavia) and interior designer Amir Cohen have turned the "dump" into an elegant, neat, sexy house of liquor. Three stories of bars and lounges playfully decorated with toy motifs provide ample room for Jerusalem locals to drink, flirt and lounge.
The toy theme is subtle so as not to make it too childish: tabletops are multi-colored, the wallpaper is designed in colorful retro patterns, the chandelier looks like big white balls, and the bar is reminiscent of a Lego tower.
Given that the place was built just as the smoking law went into effect, Toy positioned a spacious non-smoking lounge bar downstairs with its own entrance. (Apparently, the law allows for a certain ground area to be dedicated to smoking.)
The large parquet floor could easily serve as a dance floor, but Toy doesn't bill itself as a dance bar. Patrons, however, are free to get up and groove as the occasion arises.
Sitting at the bar with friends one Saturday night, I found the service friendly and attentive. The bar being full, I settled into a corner seat next to a column that blocked my line of sight (come early to get a good seat). The drink menu is rich, with classic cocktails, Toy specialties and mixes based on cava (Spanish champagne) or vodka. Toy also offers the increasingly popular German wheat beer Paulener on tap. Prices are reasonable. Most cocktails go for NIS 32 (compared to NIS 40 at most other bars.) The menu includes basic finger foods: nachos, kabob, chicken wings, schnitzel and the like.
At its opening party a few weeks ago, the place was packed with a largely secular Jerusalem crowd - journalists, students and professionals anticipating that Toy would become the next local "hot spot." The atmosphere was loose and playful, but it took me about 20 minutes to get a beer.
Toy is packaged with a strict age limit: 23 and up, so yeshiva kids loitering in nearby Zion Square need not play there. Toy is seeking to become a niche for the glamorous and worldly secular locals who bemoan Jerusalem's lack of cosmopolitan style.
On weekends Varon takes time off from his managerial duties to spin an eclectic mix for the crowd, but on any other night he can be seen manning the bars and registers, which is no kids' stuff.
But most everyone can play.
Rehov Yosef Du Nawas 6, (02) 623-6666. Open nightly from 9 p.m.; Friday from 10 p.m.
'One of my first memories is of my grandmother bringing me to a toy store for Hanukka," recalls Elad Varon, co-owner of the new Toy lounge-bar in the center of Jerusalem. Varon, also a DJ, is best remembered by the capital's partiers as publicist and manager of Haoman 17 (when it was still a nightclub).
Everyone who grew up in Jerusalem about two decades ago wistfully remembers House of Toys, he says - a fantasy land of three stories filled with toys of every kind. Now that Varon's all grown-up at 30, he and his partners have turned the former toy store into a nightlife playground where beautiful secular adults can make other fantasies come true.
"It was a dump. There was nothing here," Varon says of his return to the site off Jaffa Road to check it out as a potential venue. But he and his partners, who include Jerusalem nightlife hotshot Adi Talmor (of Colony, Layla Bar and Sushi Rehavia) and interior designer Amir Cohen have turned the "dump" into an elegant, neat, sexy house of liquor. Three stories of bars and lounges playfully decorated with toy motifs provide ample room for Jerusalem locals to drink, flirt and lounge.
The toy theme is subtle so as not to make it too childish: tabletops are multi-colored, the wallpaper is designed in colorful retro patterns, the chandelier looks like big white balls, and the bar is reminiscent of a Lego tower.
Given that the place was built just as the smoking law went into effect, Toy positioned a spacious non-smoking lounge bar downstairs with its own entrance. (Apparently, the law allows for a certain ground area to be dedicated to smoking.)
The large parquet floor could easily serve as a dance floor, but Toy doesn't bill itself as a dance bar. Patrons, however, are free to get up and groove as the occasion arises.
Sitting at the bar with friends one Saturday night, I found the service friendly and attentive. The bar being full, I settled into a corner seat next to a column that blocked my line of sight (come early to get a good seat). The drink menu is rich, with classic cocktails, Toy specialties and mixes based on cava (Spanish champagne) or vodka. Toy also offers the increasingly popular German wheat beer Paulener on tap. Prices are reasonable. Most cocktails go for NIS 32 (compared to NIS 40 at most other bars.) The menu includes basic finger foods: nachos, kabob, chicken wings, schnitzel and the like.
At its opening party a few weeks ago, the place was packed with a largely secular Jerusalem crowd - journalists, students and professionals anticipating that Toy would become the next local "hot spot." The atmosphere was loose and playful, but it took me about 20 minutes to get a beer.
Toy is packaged with a strict age limit: 23 and up, so yeshiva kids loitering in nearby Zion Square need not play there. Toy is seeking to become a niche for the glamorous and worldly secular locals who bemoan Jerusalem's lack of cosmopolitan style.
On weekends Varon takes time off from his managerial duties to spin an eclectic mix for the crowd, but on any other night he can be seen manning the bars and registers, which is no kids' stuff.
But most everyone can play.
Rehov Yosef Du Nawas 6, (02) 623-6666. Open nightly from 9 p.m.; Friday from 10 p.m.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Room service (listing)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; February 7, 2008
The best of new and newly renovated accommodations in the Galilee
With its rolling hills, forests, and proximity to coastal beaches, Western Galilee is one of the most beautiful vacation spots in Israel. Blame it on patriotism, but right after the Second Lebanon War, the region experienced a growth spurt of hotels and tzimmers (guest houses). Here are a few options for places to stay in Western Galilee, some old, some new, each with its own concept and price. (Prices listed according to weekday/weekend, per couple, including breakfast.)
About a year ago a couple named Tal Yeshua and Bat- Chen Aviram realized their vision for a hotel chain geared to families and couples with an adventurous spirit. Travel Hotels offers simple, comfortable, kibbutz-style rooms, but its special attraction is a staff that guides guests in mapping out regional hikes and tours, thereby transforming the great Galilean outdoors into the hotel lobby. They have forged partnerships with attractions and eateries in the region to let guests tailor their own vacation experience. While not as luxurious as tzimmers in the region, this is a more affordable option for those who find satisfaction with the beauty and simplicity of nature. NIS 380/400 (extra charge for breakfast upgrade); Travel Hotels, Kibbutz Eilon and Gesher Haziv, www. travelhotels. co.il (04) 995-8568
Families who want the kids to have fun too can opt for Brenda's B&B Ranch, a friendly guest house equipped with a horse ranch offering pony rides and a playroom with a ping pong and pool table. The guest house was founded 12 years ago by Brenda and Bobby Shapiro, a South African couple who moved to Moshav Ben-Ami three decades ago. They're among the country hospitality pioneers, having founded the B&B long before the tzimmer industry took off. The rooms are reminiscent of kibbutz guest houses, clean and simple, without the design hoop-la of the luxury tzimmers. The rooms have a living room area, a kitchenette, and a hot tub in the bedroom too to give the adults some down time. The Shapiros, who live next door, open their lychee orchards for family picking. NIS 550; Brenda's B&B Ranch, (04) 982- 2320; 052-279-4436; NIS 600-800
Amos and Adi Cohen have been running a country lodge with eight wooden cabins for the past seven years at Moshav Goren. Right after the Lebanon War they launched an upgraded line of eight highly stylized tzimmers made of Arab stone and Finnish wood, true marvels of design and luxury. The couple thought of every colorful and plush trimming: a fireplace, a fish aquarium, surround sound, an elaborate colored lighting system, a mini wine cellar, a fancy massage chair, and a therapeutic outdoor Jacuzzi. A common dining and recreation center is under construction, and the lodge is now recognized by the Ministry of Tourism as a "melonit" (small hotel). Wood cabins: NIS 500/750; Upgraded stone/wood cabins: NIS 750/1000; The Galilean Spirit (Haruah Haglili), www.adis.co.il; (04) 980-6951/9
The name may be deceiving. There is no full-fledged spa at "Spa on the Edge" located in the border moshav of Shtula (although treatments can be ordered in), but it is definitely located "on the edge." The tzimmers have been built at a mountaintop about two kilometers away from the border where Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were kidnapped by Hizbullah. Shtula resident Meir Ben-David announced his plans for the tzimmers when reporters came to check out the damage of a Katyusha rocket that hit his backyard. He fulfilled his promise. Right near his home, a vegetable, herb and flower garden adorns the two handsome wooden units equipped with an indoor/outdoor Jacuzzi, an indoor sauna, and a rooftop lounge area where couples can snuggle with the view of the Lebanese hills (when it's not raining water or rockets). NIS 650/850; Spa on the Edge (Spa al Hakatzeh), www.zimmerland. co.il, 050-216-1732;
NIS 800-1,000
When Catherine and Daniel Groner made aliya from Paris in 2006 (right before the Second Lebanon War), they brought a little of France with them, converting a home at Moshav Manot into Villa Provence. No detail has been spared to give guests the feeling that they are in a villa in the middle of the French country. The six suites at the "villa" are designed exquisitely, each with a different theme and color scheme. The wood and upholstery hail from France, while the metalwork comes from Marrakesh, Morocco. The spa is small yet beautifully trimmed with tiles and French soaps. The Groners live on the premises, making visitors feel like their personal house guests. NIS 900/1,000 (1,800 two nights); "Spa day" including breakfast and treatment: NIS 650. Villa Provence; www.villaprovence.co.il, 04- 980-6246
For those seeking some Sephardic warmth, there's Ahuzat Hoshen in Moshav Ein Ya'acov (a largely Kurdish community) which opened its doors in July 2007. Francine and Eyal Pinhas (she's Moroccan and he's Iraqi) have built three beautiful stone tzimmer units equipped with a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, a kitchenette with an espresso machine, and small seating corner. At first glance the five-star accommodations do not exhibit any distinct design theme or attraction, but as an added value they offer a small heated whirlpool (tented in the winter) where couples (either alone or with their friends) can get cozy and hot in the winter. NIS 800/ 1,000; Ahuzat Hoshen, www.hoshen. org.il; 052-623-2888.
The best of new and newly renovated accommodations in the Galilee
With its rolling hills, forests, and proximity to coastal beaches, Western Galilee is one of the most beautiful vacation spots in Israel. Blame it on patriotism, but right after the Second Lebanon War, the region experienced a growth spurt of hotels and tzimmers (guest houses). Here are a few options for places to stay in Western Galilee, some old, some new, each with its own concept and price. (Prices listed according to weekday/weekend, per couple, including breakfast.)
About a year ago a couple named Tal Yeshua and Bat- Chen Aviram realized their vision for a hotel chain geared to families and couples with an adventurous spirit. Travel Hotels offers simple, comfortable, kibbutz-style rooms, but its special attraction is a staff that guides guests in mapping out regional hikes and tours, thereby transforming the great Galilean outdoors into the hotel lobby. They have forged partnerships with attractions and eateries in the region to let guests tailor their own vacation experience. While not as luxurious as tzimmers in the region, this is a more affordable option for those who find satisfaction with the beauty and simplicity of nature. NIS 380/400 (extra charge for breakfast upgrade); Travel Hotels, Kibbutz Eilon and Gesher Haziv, www. travelhotels. co.il (04) 995-8568
Families who want the kids to have fun too can opt for Brenda's B&B Ranch, a friendly guest house equipped with a horse ranch offering pony rides and a playroom with a ping pong and pool table. The guest house was founded 12 years ago by Brenda and Bobby Shapiro, a South African couple who moved to Moshav Ben-Ami three decades ago. They're among the country hospitality pioneers, having founded the B&B long before the tzimmer industry took off. The rooms are reminiscent of kibbutz guest houses, clean and simple, without the design hoop-la of the luxury tzimmers. The rooms have a living room area, a kitchenette, and a hot tub in the bedroom too to give the adults some down time. The Shapiros, who live next door, open their lychee orchards for family picking. NIS 550; Brenda's B&B Ranch, (04) 982- 2320; 052-279-4436; NIS 600-800
Amos and Adi Cohen have been running a country lodge with eight wooden cabins for the past seven years at Moshav Goren. Right after the Lebanon War they launched an upgraded line of eight highly stylized tzimmers made of Arab stone and Finnish wood, true marvels of design and luxury. The couple thought of every colorful and plush trimming: a fireplace, a fish aquarium, surround sound, an elaborate colored lighting system, a mini wine cellar, a fancy massage chair, and a therapeutic outdoor Jacuzzi. A common dining and recreation center is under construction, and the lodge is now recognized by the Ministry of Tourism as a "melonit" (small hotel). Wood cabins: NIS 500/750; Upgraded stone/wood cabins: NIS 750/1000; The Galilean Spirit (Haruah Haglili), www.adis.co.il; (04) 980-6951/9
The name may be deceiving. There is no full-fledged spa at "Spa on the Edge" located in the border moshav of Shtula (although treatments can be ordered in), but it is definitely located "on the edge." The tzimmers have been built at a mountaintop about two kilometers away from the border where Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were kidnapped by Hizbullah. Shtula resident Meir Ben-David announced his plans for the tzimmers when reporters came to check out the damage of a Katyusha rocket that hit his backyard. He fulfilled his promise. Right near his home, a vegetable, herb and flower garden adorns the two handsome wooden units equipped with an indoor/outdoor Jacuzzi, an indoor sauna, and a rooftop lounge area where couples can snuggle with the view of the Lebanese hills (when it's not raining water or rockets). NIS 650/850; Spa on the Edge (Spa al Hakatzeh), www.zimmerland. co.il, 050-216-1732;
NIS 800-1,000
When Catherine and Daniel Groner made aliya from Paris in 2006 (right before the Second Lebanon War), they brought a little of France with them, converting a home at Moshav Manot into Villa Provence. No detail has been spared to give guests the feeling that they are in a villa in the middle of the French country. The six suites at the "villa" are designed exquisitely, each with a different theme and color scheme. The wood and upholstery hail from France, while the metalwork comes from Marrakesh, Morocco. The spa is small yet beautifully trimmed with tiles and French soaps. The Groners live on the premises, making visitors feel like their personal house guests. NIS 900/1,000 (1,800 two nights); "Spa day" including breakfast and treatment: NIS 650. Villa Provence; www.villaprovence.co.il, 04- 980-6246
For those seeking some Sephardic warmth, there's Ahuzat Hoshen in Moshav Ein Ya'acov (a largely Kurdish community) which opened its doors in July 2007. Francine and Eyal Pinhas (she's Moroccan and he's Iraqi) have built three beautiful stone tzimmer units equipped with a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, a kitchenette with an espresso machine, and small seating corner. At first glance the five-star accommodations do not exhibit any distinct design theme or attraction, but as an added value they offer a small heated whirlpool (tented in the winter) where couples (either alone or with their friends) can get cozy and hot in the winter. NIS 800/ 1,000; Ahuzat Hoshen, www.hoshen. org.il; 052-623-2888.
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