American Vertigo, by Bernard-Henri Levy

This is a book I've been meaning to read for a long time but it took me a while to get my hands on the original French version. I thought that a book written by a French intellectual and philosopher offering ruminations about America deserved to be read in French... A friend finally got me a copy in France last month and I took it with me on my around-the-world trip this month.

Bernard-Henry Levy (henceforth, BHL) is somewhat of a celebrity in France (perhaps the only country in the world where a philosopher can become a celebrity). In recent years, he has moved away from writing "pure" philosophical works towards a more journalistic role. In 2002 he spent almost a year, travelling to Pakistan several times to investigate the murder of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter that was beheaded by Muslim fanatics. He summarised his findings in a book (Who Killed Daniel Pearl?) in which he minces no words when describing the lawlessness of the Pakistani regime. I vividly recall one sentence from that book (and I'm quoting from memory): "of all the delinquent countries in the world, Pakistan is the most delinquent of all". This was written, mind you, at at time when Pakistan was the US's primary ally in the fight against Al Qaeda in Afghanistan.

BHL embarked on a year-long journey arounnd the US and wrote his observations in American Vertigo. The project was financed by the Atlantic Monthly journal, which asked BHL to follow the footsteps of Alexis De Tocqueville, the French historian who travelled to America in the early 19th century and wrote an analysis of American civic life in the monumental work Democracy in America, considered one of the classic books in political thought. The idea was for BHL to retrace Tocqueville's journey and provide observations about life in America almost 200 years later. (On a side note: why don't I get offers to travel the world for free for a year? I guess my ruminations are not, sadly, as in demand as BHL's...).

The book turned out to be very different from what I thought it would be like. Instead of a long philosophical treatise about the US, the book is a collection of short vignettes, each 2-3 pages long, about the various encounters BHL had during his journey. Having said that, the last third of the book is a heavy-going "summary" of the journey, more typical to BHL's previous writings.

The journey took place around election time in 2004. BHL covered many walks of American life: politics (he met, among others, Obama, Clinton and Kerry), Hollywood (Sharon Stone, Warren Beatty), prisons (the original aim of Tocqueville was to study the American penitentiary system), entertainment (Vegas, a brothel in Nevada), sports (Baseball Hall of Fame), religion (from born-again evangelists to Brooklyn Jews to Mormons), US history (Mount Rushmore) and much much more. Each vignette describes shortly what he experienced and then expands on the subject by putting it into context. "The big picture" is a motive that runs throughout the book, with BHL trying to frame each experience within the theory he builds for the American experience.

And the theory is as follows: America is indeed an empire, but not of the sort Rome was. Its fierce protection of individualism, coupled with a deep sense of integrity and accountability, make it a power to be reckoned with despite the predictions of its decline. It is a land of contradictions: puritanism coupled with promiscuity, religious fervour coupled with materialism of the lowest kind, isolationism coupled with a sense of global duty. As dysfunctional as America is, BHL believes it will endure. He is an "anti anti-American" and repeatedly berates his compatriots for being so automatically against anything American and for falsely predicting the failure of the American model.

As impartial as BHL tries to be, his love for America is apparent throughout the book (although I think he will refuse to admit "love" is the appropriate word). He writes lovingly about Seattle, calling it the one place he would choose to live in if he were to move to the US, only to trade it later in the book with Savannah, Georgia. All in all, I don't think he was successful in "retracing the footsteps" of Tocqueville, but nevertheless this is still an interesting and stimulating book.

Early Sakura

I was in Tokyo for the weekend and in a park not far from where I stayed I noticed a couple of early-blossoming cherry trees. A bit early for sakura, but I guess the warm winter has brought on the blossom a bit earlier this year.

Here are a couple of pictures of this early sakura blossom in Arisugawa park:

Question to Passengers

After a torturous 10 hour flight to Seoul yesterday, I have a question to fellow air passengers:

Why is it that when you bang your tray-table back into position violently, or use the seat in front of you as a lever to help you get up from your seat, or constantly push your feet onto the seat in front of you - why is it that you do not realise someone is actually sitting in that seat? And that specific someone might be trying to get some sleep?

Why is so difficult to understand that the back of the seat in front of you also has a front to it, with a person sitting in it?

Daunt Bookshop, London

For a while now I've been wanting to visit the Daunt bookshop in London. I had read about it a long time ago but never had the opportunity to make the visit. Yesterday I had a couple of hours off so I headed to Baker Street Station and walked over to Marylebone High Street to see it.

Although it has sections with fiction, non-fiction and reference books, Daunt is first and foremost a "travel bookshop". The books are arranged by country or geographical region, and each section contains not only travel guides but also books about that country/region. So if you're looking at Israel, for example, you will find not only the ubiquitous Fodor's and Lonely Planet guides but also books about Judaism, Jewish History, etc. Very interesting set up. I also like the fact there were several tables spread around the shop with books of all types set on them, in no particular order.

The shop itself is famous for being an original Edwardian shop, complete with dark wooden galleries and a big skylight roof that lets in natural daylight (it was a nice sunny day). All so very quaint.

I spent an hour or so browsing through the store and experiencing that familiar high-low feeling I get whenever I'm in a bookstore. There are so many books to read, on so many interesting subjects, books of all sizes and shapes and colours, all beckoning you to pick them up and lose yourself in the world the author has created just for you. But so little time! What to choose? Why would this book take preference over that one? Plus there's the constant fear of getting yet another disapproving look from my wife, a look that says: "More books?! At this rate we'll run out of space once again... And why on earth would anyone in their right mind want to keep every book he's ever read?" So, sadly, I left Daunt's without purchasing even one small volume.

By the way, I had to smile when I saw where the US section was relegated to at Daun'ts: at the very end of the gallery on the right, all the way in the back, way after books about places like Cambodia or Kuwait. I guess the shop's owners were keen on making a statement about their view of tourism to the US...

Prognosis Confirmed: Profound Malaise

I have predicted before that Israel will enter a state of profound malaise, not unlike that of France, following the botched war in Lebanon. But I had no idea that my prediction would come true so quickly and so forcefully, aided by a series of shameful scandals permeating, it seems, all walks of public life in this country.

The Economist wrote briefly last week about how Israelis "have lost their usually insatiable appetite for talking politics". The summary in the second paragraph is strikingly painful in its brutal conciseness:

The prime minister, Ehud Olmert, is under investigation for allegations ranging from dishonest property trading to trying improperly to influence the privatisation of a bank. The finance minister is being probed for embezzlement, the tax-authority head for fraud. The president faces multiple charges of rape. This week a former justice minister was convicted of forcibly kissing a young woman soldier, which could land him in jail for up to three years. The army chief of staff has resigned over the Lebanon war; this month a commission of inquiry is set to shine a harsh light on the performance of army and government.

What charming times we live in... No wonder most people prefer to ignore everything and concentrate on their daily lives. Gone are the days Israelis argued passionately about every little aspect of politics and policy. Such professed apathy may be the norm in most European countries, but in Israel it's a novelty.

Reina Sofia Museum, Madrid

With a few hours to spare in Madrid last week, and as it was raining outside, I decided to make a short visit to the Reina Sofia museum. Founded in 1992, this museum replaced the Spanish Museum of Contemporary Art and hosts works by Picasso, Dali, Miro and others.

My main reason for visiting this museum was, like many others I suppose, to see Picasso's "Guernica". This picture was commissioned by the Repulican government in 1937 for the Spanish stand in an exhibition in Paris. I didn't realise it was such a big work of art: almost 8 meters wide and 3.5 meters tall. The hall around the "Guernica" shows Picasso's sketches from his preparation work and photographs taken during the process of painting the picture.

Most of Dali's best-known works are not hosted by this museum, but one of his classic surrealistic paintings, "El Gran Masturbador", is. Apparently, it is Dali himself who is the "head" depicted in the picture, with the woman emerging from it symbolising the masturbation. Oh well, I admit I never really understood modern art.

Another Dali work which I liked better, perhaps because it's not so "modern", was "Muchacha en la Ventana", which is apparently one of his most famous pictures, painted when he was only 20. The model standing at the window is his sister.

An hour and a half at the museum was enough. I walked up Calle de Atocha and took a short walk around the old neighbourhood where Cervantes and others lived. But the rain just wouldn't stop, so I decided to call it a day and enjoy an unplanned lunch at the excellent kosher restaurant "Naomi Grill" on my way back to the airport.

Distracting Toilet Breaks

Sitting in my hotel room in Madrid this evening, bored out of my mind, I'm zapping through the TV channels. I see "breaking news" on one of the American news channels and I pause to check it out (after all, I am Israeli; so the first thing that comes to mind is "something blew up back home").

I see it's a press conference at NASA so, thinking this is just another shuttle launch, I almost continue my zapping. But the frown on NASA's deputy administrator's face tells me this is more than just another launch. She starts talking about some Lisa Nowak but I can't figure out what's going on. So I log on to Google News and search for "Lisa Nowak". There's this story about a female astronaut (married, mother of 3) who drove from Houston to Orlando to confront a woman she suspected was involved with a colleague male astronaut she herself was involved with. Donned with an air rifle, and wearing a wig to disguise herself, she stalks the woman and sprays her face with pepper spray. Not a very interesting story; just you regular love triangle between space travellers.

But here's the intriguing part. The reporters kept asking questions about Nowak's mental stability. And the NASA deputy administrator talked about the rigorous psychological tests astronauts go through and how Lisa Nowak passed all of these tests. Nobody came right out and called Nowak a nutcase, but they were close enough. Why?

Well, you see, Nowak was in such a hurry to get to her target, that in order to avoid unnecessary toilet breaks on her long car journey halfway across the United States, she wore a... diaper! Yes, a nappy! "A piece of cloth, or other absorbent material, folded and worn as underpants", as Dictionary.com defines it.

Ahh, I say to myself, now I understand all those polite questions about mental stability. My boring evening just ended on a perkier note: a nutcase astronaut driving around in a nappy!

Always Apologise

Shorly after arriving to live in Japan, a few years ago, I received an advice from a work colleague. That advice turned out to be very sound when doing business in Japan (or generally for social relationships in Japan). The advice was: "always apologise". He told me that at every meeting I should open with some apology, even if there is nothing to apologise for. Apologise for them having to take time off their busy schedule to meet you, or for the offer for a drink. Anything.

I was reminded of this piece of advice this morning, during a flight from Tokyo to Singapore. Across the aisle from me sat a middle-aged Japanese man (the infamous oji-san, literally "uncle" but generally a term used for that ubiquitous, fastidious "salaryman" that is constantly irritable and could not care less about others). Even before we took off he managed to get into some argument with one of the Singaporean flight attendants; I'm not sure what it was about, but I'm pretty sure it was over some minor point. A few minutes after that argument, a Japanese flight attendant appeared, together with the Singaporean one, and what followed was a classic example of the "always apologise" rule.

First, the Japanese flight attendant went down on her knees. Why? Because this way he would be talking down to her instead of looking up to her. Second, the Japanese flight attendant opened by a lengthy apology, even before asking him what happened. She then listend intently to the man, constantly nodding her head in apology and understanding. When she translated for the benefit of her colleague, the Singaporean flight attendant tried to offer her own explanation (in English, standing up), but the Japanese flight attendant quickly put a hand on her arm as if to say: "please don't make things worse by interfering; just shut up and let me handle this". She proceeded to apologise again and allowed the man to continue to vent his anger. After a couple of minutes he was out of steam and she concluded by apologising again. The man gruffily accepted the apology and life went on.

What the Japanese flight attendant did was something I've witnessed countless times in Japan. I have no doubt the flight attendants had a good answer to the man's complaint and quite possibly they were also completely in the right and his complaint was baseless. But that was not the point. The Japanese flight attendant understood that in order to prevent escalation she needed to save this oji-san's face. After making the complaint he could not simply accept any explanation; his "status" as a passenger (and, yes, as a man) was such that he needed to be offered a way to climb down from the tree. She offered him that way not by addressing his complaint but by aplogising for him having to make a complaint in the first place!

This is a tactic that us Westerners (and Israelis in particular) find very had to adopt. Many times I insisted on proving the other side wrong, making absolutely sure what my position was. A much more successful tactic would have been, on many of those occasions, to obfuscate the point, apologise, and offer the other side the chance to step down without having to admit defeat. What I saw this morning was a classic example of such behaviour. I don't believe the Singaporean flight attendant realised exactly what had transpired.

Oedo Monogatari Onsen, Tokyo

The Japanese love hot water. Actually, "love" is an understatement. From times immemorial, immersing oneself in hot water is a favourite pastime in Japan, whether it be at home (in those small but deep baths), in the neighbourhood ofuro (public bath) or in that ultimate hot-water experience: the revered onsen.

In fact, hot water has such standing in Japanese culture that there is a special word for "hot water" in Japanese: yu. Here is the Japanese character (kanji) for yu, which appears on virtually every ofuro in the country:

During my last trip to Tokyo I visited the onsen in Odaiba (an artificial island in Tokyo bay): the Oedo Monogatari Onsen. This complex opened in 2003 and is more than just a hot bath. It was constructed in the ancient Oedo style (Oedo was the old name of Tokyo) and contains more than 20 hot baths, massage parlours and other attractions. It also boasts a mutltitude of restaurants and shops situated along a roofed street, which is modelled as a hirokouji street of the Edo period. Apparently, the water is brought up to the baths from 1,400 metres below ground. Aside from the indoor baths there are a couple of outdoor baths with simulated landscaping, and if it were not for the planes overhead landing at 2-minute intervals in nearby Haneda airport, one could almost imagine this was a genuine countryside onsen.

When you arrive at the onsen you put your shoes in a locker then proceed to pay and get your yukata (the traditional Japenese robe). You can choose from ten or so different yukata designs (who said Japanese were not individualistic people?). Then you proceed to the changing rooms where you get rid of your clothes and don the yukata; everybody walks around barefoot in their yukata throughout the onsen complex. The baths are separated but there is an outdoor foot-bath area which is mixed. I went on a Sunday and many families were there for the day.

One particularly interesting attraction at the Oedo Monogatari is the "fish doctor" treatment. These are tiny fish, 1-1.5cm in length and very thin, that live in hot water, where regular fish cannot survive. As a result, these fish live off dead matter. Someone discovered that the fish can be used to eat off the dead skin from your body. You immerse your hands or feet in the bath and theses small fish gather around and nibble off the dry skin off your extremities. It's quite ticklish at first but after a couple of minutes it becomes quite enjoyable, a kind of "mini massage" feeling.

The Oedo Monogatari Onsen is not the typical Japanese onsen. Far from it. It is a tourist attraction and it flaunts that rather shamelessly. But if one is in Tokyo and has no time to visit Japan's countryside for a "real" onsen then this is certainly a worthwhile experience.

The Long Journey Home

A while ago, I quoted an article about the difference between trains in Israel and trains in Japan. This evening I had the misfortune of getting a taste of this difference. And what a bitter taste it turned out to be.

My wife drove me to work this morning as she needed the car. At the end of the day she called to propose to come and pick me up, but I declined and told her I'm going to check out the train for the first time. I knew that getting from the office to the train station and then from the train station to my home would be problematic (no convenient public transport), but I thought that once I would get on the train, things would roll nicely. After all, I had one stop to travel, change to another train, and then two stops. How bad could 3 stops possibly be?

How bad? Well, you judge. Here is what I went through:

17:55 Left office, walked to train station.

18:10 Arrived at train station, purchased ticket.

18:25 Train left train station.

18:30 Train arrived at next station, got off to change trains.

18:35 Standing on platform 3, waiting for next train (due in 10 minutes).

18:40 Announcement: "All northbound and southbound trains will be approximately 10 minutes late".

18:45 Announcement: "The train that was supposed to depart from platform 3 will depart from platform 1. Please change platforms". Had to rush to platform 1.

18:54 Train arrives and departs.

18:58 Train arrives at next station. One more station to go!

18:59 Announcement: "This train will be delayed in leaving the station due to congestion"

19:05 Train leaves station.

19:09 Train arrives at destination. Mission (almost) accomplished.

19:15 Wife picks me up in car from train station, we head home.

19:35 Arrived home (through rush-hour traffic).

In summary, total travel time door-to-door was 1.5 hours, of which 13 minutes were spent in a moving train. Even with the worst rush-hour traffic it never takes me more than 45-50 minutes to get home from work. Is it a wonder people, unless they have to, don't use public transportation in Israel?

And don't get me going about the state of the toilets on the train, the fact that all announcements are in Hebrew only (I guess Israel has given up on tourism), the absence of taxis and/or buses at both train stations, etc. etc. I guess I expect too much; after all, this is the middle east...

Quest for (Im)perfection

A small post scritum to my previous post about the Japanese quest for perfection.

Last week I took a few days off and went to Costa del Sol with my son. The hotel we stayed at was almost brand new and part of a respectable chain of resort hotels. This what the toiletries tray looked like:




Note how the shower cap is placed. Note that one bar of soap is upside down. Note that the entire tray is a tad askew. Now compare that to the pictures of the toiletries I took in the Tokyo hotel and answer these questions: Would you rather buy a Mazda or a Seat? Would you rather have a Japanese plumber or a Spanish one fix your drain?

I rest my case.

Quest for Perfection

The Japanese are notorious for being extremely good in producing quality goods. Companies worldwide have adopted Japanese methodologies and practices in order to improve the quality of their products. Countless business books laud Japanese manufacturing as a model for imitation.

This does not come out of nowhere. The Japanese spend a lot of time and effort to ensure that everything they do is done well. The quest for perfection is ingrained in all walks of life: from the lady cleaning the sidewalk in front of her home, leaving no leaf behind; through the delivery man, making sure he delivers on time and fills out every detail on his forms; to the shop attendant who wraps the goods purchased as if they were destined to be handed to the Emperor himself, no less. No matter how lowly and unimportant the job may seem to be, most Japanese will do everything to complete it to perfection.

Anyone who works in Japan notices this. Deliveries of products or services purchased by Japanese companies from overseas suppliers are almost always considered sub-standard by the Japanese, who expect a quality level that most foreign companies fail to achieve. One of our customers in Japan is nearing the end of their project and the test scenarios are being written for the final testing phase of the software. My colleagues did their utmost to produce what they believed were very detailed and comprehensive scenarios; having failed to satisfy this customer on previous deliveries, they really did their best this time. And the outcome was probably the best my company has done in a decade in terms of documentation, for any customer.

Last week I was in Tokyo and noticed that the engineers of our partner company were working on writing test scenarios. Puzzled, I asked them why they were still working on the scenarios, when these have been delivered by us already. After much prodding, they sheepishly admitted that our scenarios were simply not good enough, so they were re-writing them from scratch! One quick look at their work confirmed the sad truth: there is absolutely no way an Israeli engineer could have produced such documentation. Not in a thousand years, not under extreme torture. When I asked how much they were charging the customer for this work, the (unsurprising) reply was: nothing. This is what the customer expects as a standard in these types of projects, so they won't charge for it.

To illustrate my point, I'm going to use what may seem like a very trivial example. And yet, I believe that through this seemingly trivial example one can perhaps begin to grasp what I mean when I write that the quest for perfection is ingrained in the Japanese work ethic.

Here are a few pictures I took in my Tokyo hotel room last week:

1. The hand towels hanging in the bathroom. Note that the towels are folded in opposite directions, and placed on the rack at the exact height, so that the writing of the hotel name is perfectly aligned, as if it were one towel and not two.

2. The toiletries. The same set of 3 toiletry bottles are placed in the bathtub (first picture) and on the shelf (second picture). Needless to say, the bottles are positioned so that the writing is facing outside; that's a given. But look carefully: in both locations, the bottles are placed so that the "shampoo" and "rinse" bottles are touching each other, and the "body shampoo" is slightly to the right, not touching. You'd think this was a coincidence, right? I stayed in the hotel for 7 nights and every single day the three bottles were placed just so, in exactly the same manner.

3. The bedside table. See the glass half-filled with water? I left it there one morning. Instead of simply removing it, the cleaning lady took the pain of covering it with a piece of paper, just in case I needed that water again...

Some may scoff at these trivial examples saying they prove nothing. But after a long exposure to Japan I firmly believe that it is these seemingly trivial everyday activities - and there are hundreds of such small details in every walk of life in Japan - that are testimony to the quality and perfection inherent in Japanese culture.

Islam and Christianity

A friend emailed me this "religious debate" from the Jon Stewart show. It's quite funny:

Turning Forty

This week I turned forty. While brooding about this momentous milestonein my life, I Googled "turning forty" and came across this article in The Guardian from 2003. Out of sheer boredom I decided to check which of these "40 things about turning 40" applied to me and which did not:

1 Gardening is suddenly good.

• Hmmm... It's true that this year I finally have a garden I can call my own, but as for gardening, I'm not quite there yet.

2 As is Schubert.

• Schubert was always good, not suddenly so.

3 The prospect of dancing in public is terrifying.

• Always was for me.

4 You hiss when mobile phones go off at the Titian exhibition.

• (I had to look up "Titian exhibition"). I've always been fond of giving the dirty look to people who forget to silence their phones in movies, theatres, etc. One of the deadliest social combinations is an Israeli with mobile phone.

5 You have a Party Seven stomach rather than a six-pack.

• I'll pass on this one.

6 You know what Party Seven means.

• Hah! Now it's clear why I didn't understand #5. I have no clue what "party seven" means.

7 Your younger colleagues think your libido requires chemical enhancement, or that it's OK to make jokes about the probability that it does. The unfeeling brutes. (This may just be a guy thing.)

• I have had Viagra recommended to me, but I'm proud to say I never had the need to try it.

8 You buy more chart CDs than ever (in an attempt to hang on in there) but still go home and slap on Prince's Sign o' the Times.

• Haven't bought a CD in years (isn't that what MP3 is all about?) Never owned a Prince CD.

9 You start playing football.

• Only since about a month ago, when I purchased GameCube FIFA '06 for my son and got caught up by the brilliant graphics of the game. Real football? Not in a million years.

10 You punch the next person who says "Denial isn't just a river in Africa, you know" and laugh when anyone uses the word "closure" in a purportedly emotionally insightful manner.

• I actually never heard that one before ("denial"). Not bad. And yes, I find the americanism "closure" to be, like most americanisms, quite laughable.

11 You are more inclined to tell people to shut up.

• I don't know about more inclined. Internally, I've been telling people to shut up since I remember myself.

12 If you're a guy, harmless office flirting may not be so harmless. You don't want to end up a dirty old man.

• Luckily for me, I seldom go to work in the office.

13 You know that texting has passed you by.

• Oh yes. Unfortunately, emailing on Blackberry has not.

14 You worry about rudeness, graffiti, the newspaper arriving late, the decline of public services and the possible truth in libido jibes.

• All true, except the last one.

15 Moisturiser for men is the new wet-look hair gel.

• Huh?

16 Thinking about death is the new thinking about nothing much.

• Not quite there yet, I'm afraid.

17 You sit at traffic lights singing along to Barry White. Small boys with squeegees laugh at you. Screw them.

• Who's Barry White?

18 When your boss asks you when you can do some urgent task, you feel more free to say: "How about never? Is never good for you?"

• Oh, I've been saying that for ages. Internally, of course. I want to keep my job.

19 You think younger people who wear hooded sweatshirts with the hood up look stupid and sinister. You cross the street to avoid them.

• Stupid, definitely. Sinister?

20 You go to the pub less often due to the belated realisation that it's rubbish and makes your clothes smell.

• Never been much of a pub-goer, but yes, it is mostly rubbish and the smoke is terrible.

21 You are less certain of things than you used to be.

• Oh, definitely so. And less certain every day that goes by.

22 You argue with the television. You always win.

• I don't watch television, not for 5 years now. So as far as I'm concerned, I've already won.

23 Reading is the new staring into space.

• Frankly, I can't remember when I last stared into space.

24 Board games are the new cocaine.

• Sadly, I never really got the habit of playing board games.

25 Childcare is the new nightlife.

• I thought this was about turning 40, not turning 30...

26 You find children less irksome than hitherto, and are less perturbed about making small talk with them.

• Not sure about this one. I don't mind small talk with children, but I still find them irksome. Especially if they're not my children.

27 You increasingly find cryptic crossword puzzles diverting entertainment.

• That's not me. That's my wife.

28 You're temperamentally incapable of using the following phrases: "Oh. My. God"; "And I'm like ..."; "And she's all ..."; "Whatever". But, oddly, not "Well, duh."

• Not true, true, true, not true. And not true.

29 You're temperamentally incapable of doing high fives or other showy handshakes.

• I high-five my kids all the time.

30 You find solace in birdsong.

• Not much birdsong in my neck of the woods, I'm afraid.

31 You aren't surprised that the Cheeky Girls were spawned by Ceaucescu's Romania.

• Cheeky Girls?

32 You wonder if you would be shopping at Dunn and Co if it was still going.

• I have no clue what "Dunn and Co" was/is.

33 You pretend to care about J-Lo and Ben Affleck, subscribe to Heat magazine and have a Celebdaq account to stay in touch with celebrity culture, while simultaneously despising it.

• I don't need to pretend; I simply don't give a damn.

34 You think nothing of spending £8 on a bottle of wine.

• £8 = NIS66. True. Didn't realise that's a hefty amout for a bottle of wine.

35 You take a Thermos on demos.

• Nope. Bottle of water.

36 Actually, the rugby's on. There are enough people on the march already.

• Oh, I thought "demos" meant presentations to customers... Just goes to show how much work is affecting my ability to think straight. Haven't been to a "demo" since the peace rally on Nov. 4, 1995, the one prime minister Rabin was murdered at.

37 You write letters of complaint to Currys, Ikea, Norwich Union etc, while not expecting or receiving anything approaching a reply, civil or otherwise.

• Well, not to these companies, but yes I do occasionally shake off my apathy and write a letter of complaint.

38 It's hardly ever quiet enough.

• How true.

39 It can be too quiet.

• Not in Israel.

40 You're going to die sooner than ever.

• Thank you, The Guardian, for ending this on such a positive note...

Chayey Sarah - Stranger and Sojourner

ויקם אברהם מעל פני מתו וידבר אל בני חת לאמר: גר ותושב אנכי עמכם תנו לי אחוזת קבר עמכם ואקברה את מתי מלפני

(בראשית כ"ג, ג'-ד')

The parasha called "The Life of Sarah" begins with the death of Sarah. Avraham, after the period of mourning, sets about to find a suitable burial spot for his dead wife. He turns to the people of Chet, residents of the land, and says to them:

"I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight."

(Bereshit, 23, 5)

The words Avraham uses to describe himself - stranger (ger) and sojourner (toshav) - require some investigation. Why would Avraham label himself both a stranger and a sojourner? Perhaps we can learn a few things from this choice of words by Avraham.

Rashi, and many other commentators, explain that Avraham wanted to stress the fact that, although he is a stranger to the land, his intentions are to become a sojourner, a permanent resident. Therefore, his claim to be allocated a plot of land for burial purposes, something which a passing stranger cannot ask for, is justified. The Or HaChaim expands on this explanation by claiming (somewhat asynchronously) that Avraham was relying on the halacha that one is allowed to give a "ger toshav" a permanent gift, and that this halacha was binding also upon the people of Chet. Giving a burial plot to someone who has emigrated to live among you is considered "the done thing", part of the Natural Law; the halacha merely restates this law. Avraham demonstrated his friendly and neighbourly ways, for example by fighting the four kings to liberate the people of Sodom or by his insistence to take nothing from Avimelech, so he was right in expecting the locals to reciprocate in a fair and friendly manner.

But Rashi provides a further explanation. He quotes the Midrash that says that Avraham was in effect threatening the people of Chet: if you do not accept me as a stranger, I will take the land by force as a sojourner; it is rightfully mine, as was promised to me by God. Why would Rashi bring this Midrash? To understand this, we need to recall the first Rashi on the Torah, which quotes another Midrash: Why did the Torah start with the Creation story and not with the first mitzvah given to the People of Israel? Because nobody has an inalienable right to the land; the "promised land" is not a promise that is kept without any conditions. In fact, it depends on the will of God. When the people deserve the land, by walking in God's ways, they get it; if not, they don't. And indeed history proves this: the current situation, where Israel has been independent for almost 60 years, is an aberration in the thousands of years of Jewish history.

So Rashi is perhaps trying to tell us that although we have a divine promise to inherit the Land of Israel, this is a right that we cannot claim by force no matter what. Avraham's veiled threat comes with the plea of being a stranger that has demonstrated his willingness to live peacefully in the new land. Yes, the land has been promised to Avraham, but he knows he also needs to deserve it.

A final thought about the use of "stranger and sojourner" is from Rabbi Lichtenstein, who uses these words of Avraham to describe the existential dilemma of every human being. As humans, as lives are finite and we do not know when we will die. And yet at times we act as if we we will live for ever, making long-term plans and feeling (over)confident about ourselves. This paradox is highlighted by the story from Berachot: the sages were at a party and asked R. Himnuna to sing a song. He stood up and sang about how terrible is the day of our death (talk about a party spoiler). When asked by the stunned sages how they should respond to this, R. Himnuna answered that they should sing about our faith in God and his laws. By acting like he did. R. Himnuna illustrated not only the paradox of our short lives (we are "strangers" on this earth) coupled with our tendency to feel invincible (as real "sojourners"), but also the remedy for this existentialist conundrum: attach yourself to the real sojourner, the eternal one, in order to get by this life.

In summary, Avraham's use of the expression "ger ve'toshav" to describe himself teaches us a few things: that we should act in a neighbourly and honourable manner with the residents of the land; that we should not think our right to the land is unconditional, as it depends on our behaviour; and that to survive in this world we need to attach ourselves to God.

Fighting Toothpaste

New security measures are in effect in all airports in Europe. If one wants to take liquids or gels on board - e.g. toothpaste, deodorant, cream, lisptick, etc. - these need to be placed in a transparent, resealable plastic bag and taken out for security scanning. The liquids/gels need to be in containers of less than 100ml each, and no more than 1l in total.

I was unfortunate enough to be travelling to Europe on the day these new measures came into effect - Monday of last week. I went through four different European airports during the week and in all of them chaos reigned (except for Heathrow, where these measures are actually more lenient than the ones that were in effect for the past few months). The security lines were unbelievably long. The security personnel were busy checking containers to see whether the 100ml limitation was being violated, scarcely giving the passgengers themselves a second look. Debates raged between security personnel regarding whether this or that item qualified as liquid or gel. My instant shoe polish sponge was taken out from my carry-on as it contained a tiny capsule of shoe polish, which unfortunately was in liquid form.

In short, it is clear that the Western world has given up the fight against terrorism in favour of fighting toothpaste. I don't blame them. It is much easier to fight toothpaste than it is to fight terrorists...

On a more serious note, these security measures seem to indicate, once again, that the entire approach is wrong. In Ben Gurion airport, the security machines (x-ray, chemical scanner, etc.) are a secondary measure; the focus is on the PERSON and not on the LUGGAGE he or she are carrying. Security personnel question each passenger and only those that arouse suspicion or fit a certain profile are subject to a thorough search. Profiling, a taboo concept in the "enlightened" world, prevents Americans and Europeans from adopting this rational and effective approach to airport security. For them, a 90-year-old nun's bag poses the same security threat as that of a bearded youngster carrying a Pakistani passport. I whisk through security in Israel because I carry an Israeli passport and travel often, but my European colleagues - sharing this profile in their countries - must undergo the same security ordeal I go through as a foreigner in Europe. Their toothpaste is as suspicious as mine is...

Thumbs Up for Napping

Yesterday I needed to sit a 3-hour exam at 4pm. Not that it was too demanding an exam, but as I got up early and felt a little tired, I decided around noon to take a short nap, I woke up after 1.5 hours feeling much better and ready for the exam.

This morning I read this pro-napping article in the Toronto Star, "a tribute to the soft pleasures of dozing". Spot on, as the Brits say. I feel guilty when I wake up late in the morning, and extremely guilty when I need to take a nap during the day. It does not happen very often, but now that I've read the article, and the hard science backing siesta lovers, maybe I will feel a little less guilty next time.

Which reminds me of a visit to Taipei, capital of Taiwan, a few years ago. I had a meeting at a large bank around lunch-time. On the way to the meeting room, I passed through a big open-space office area, seating perhaps 30-40 employees. All of them, without exception, were fast asleep, their heads resting on pillows they put on their desks. Apparently, a short nap after lunch is an agreed practice for office workers in Taiwan.

Got to rush. It's time for my post-lunch nap...

More London Ruminations

This week brought me to London again, a trip which gave rise to a few more ruminations:

I do not know any other city in the world that is as multi-ethnic as London is. Everywhere I go in London the people around me are a mix of colours, shapes and sizes, and the cacophony of languages from all around the world is music to my ears. Some would argue that New York City is as diverse as London, it not more, but I think the size of NYC is such that there are areas which are very homogeneous (Flatbush comes to mind...). London is also a big city and yet almost everywhere you go the population is heterogeneous. This thought brought back memories of my first visit to Boston 13 years ago; after a couple of days in the city I suddenly caught myself thinking: where are all the blacks?

The only place in London where I saw a sizable group of people that were mostly white and English-speaking, was at the theatre. (I went to see "The 39 steps" at the Criterion in Picadilly Circus, which I enjoyed very much). But no worries: stepping out into the streets of Soho and things were back to normal.

I also had time for a visit to the Jewish Museum in Camden Town. They are currently running an exhibition called "Identities" which displays photographs from various Jewish families and Jewish activities in London. There is also a film in which English Jews are interviewed about their identity. Again, even in the narrow Jewish community of England (less than half a percent of the total population), the ethnic diversity is striking. Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews, secular and religious Jews, young and old - all proclaiming their allegiance to the kingdom while at the same times grappling with what it means to them to be Jewish.

On my way back to the hotel to pick my stuff and go to the airport, I made an impromptu stop at Charing Cross road, for a quick stroll around Foyle's, "London's legendary bookstore" as I believe it labels itself. I haven't been to Foyle's in over than a decade. I remembered it from my last visit as an amazing bookstore, but this time I was rather disappointed. I guess that with the proliferation of the "mega bookstores" - Barnes & Noble, Borders and of course Amazon.com - the grandness of Foyle's has somewhat diminished (at least in my eyes). I mucdh more enjoyed the few minutes I spent at Bookends, opposite Foyle's, a store which has retained its intimate book-browsing experience. I got a few Asterix books for my son.

And this impulsive stop at Charing Cross did not, sadly, leave me enough time to walk up Oxford's street to Selfridge's for my Krispy Kreme doughnut...

Prayer for Avi Ravitzky

I just saw on the news that Prof. Aviezer (Avi) Ravitzky, head of the department for Jewish Thought at the Hebrew University and winner of the Israel Prize, was hit by a bus in Jerusalem this morning and is in hospital in grave condition.

I had the honour of hearing Prof. Ravitzky talk on several occasions over the years and read a couple of his books. I stood a few paces away from him during the peace rally on the 4th of November 1995, at the end of which Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was murdered.

He is truly a great thinker and I pray for his speedy and full recovery with the help of God. Amen.

Waving To and Fro

Sukkot is almost over. One more day. Tonight is Hoshana Raba and tomorrow morning we face a long prayer, circling the bimah seven times whilst holding and waving the lulav in all directions.

Every year on Sukkot I am struck with the same odd feeling. It's one of the most beautiful festivals, one on which we are commanded to be happy. After the stressful 10 days of the beginning of the year, culminating in Yom Kipppur, a happy holiday is just what we need. And yet, every morning of Sukkot and particularly on Hoshana Rabba, I watch myself and my fellow congregants waving the lulav to and fro, in all four directions of the earth, and I can't help but think to myself (not out loud of course, God forbid): "what the heck is going on here?!".

Yes, I am aware of the different reasons given to this strange custom, from the Seffer HaChinuch who categorises this mitzvah with the ones given to us by God for bringing us closer to Him, through the symbolistic gesture that the whole world belongs to God, to the more kabbalistic explanations about warding off evil spirits. And still, it just doesn't feel right. All this to and fro... All this circling around the synagogue...

To put it somewhat bluntly, there's a somewhat paganistic feel to it all. Of course I'm not suggesting this is a pagan ritual, and obviously if it's directed towards a proper cause - the worship of God - there's nothing wrong with it. And yet...

Oh well, I guess I'll just need to suppress my impure thoughts tomorrow morning, stifle my yawns (we start at 5am!) and go through the motions. Chag Sameach!

London Ruminations

I grew up in an anglophile environment, receiving British education from age 10 until I finished high school. Little surprise then that England, and London in particular, were places I felt comfortable with for most of my life. In recent years however, I have grown to dislike London, finding it to be a city where almost anything that can go wrong does go wrong. It is dirty, far too expensive, not safe enough, offers low quality of service and generally rather unpleasant. And with the heightened security measures after the terrorist attacks in London (real and imagined), Heathrow airport has become an unbearable airport to fly to and from.

Here are a few random observations from a short visit to London this week:

The airport hotels around Heathrow are not only ourageously expensive, but also so difficult to get to they can hardly qualify as proper airport hotels. Whereas the Heathrow Express takes you from Heathrow to Paddington Station in the heart of London in 15 minutes, the "Hotel Hoppa" buses that serve Heathrow's hotels take ages to get you to the hotel. Murphy's Law is strictly followed here: the bus you need (there are 9 lines, H1 to H9) is almost always the last one to turn up, and when it finally does, it follows a circuitous and noisy route before dropping you off, exhuasted, at the hotel.

England is where the English language was born and perfected, nurtured lovingly by generations of proud Britons. Elsewhere in the English-speaking world, respect for this beautiful language was never a top priority, but Britons always took pains to make sure English was properly spoken and written. That, sadly, is changing. An example: in the same "Hotel Hoppa" bus, there is a sign behind the driver telling passengers what not to do when the bus is in motion. The first sentence starts like this: "Do not speak to the driver or distract their attention...".

The Tube, London's world-famous underground transportation system, is falling apart. Years of misguided privatisation efforts and maintenance neglect are finally taking their toll. Almost on every ride I hear a message about a failure that will delays or shutdowns. Posters in every station advise passengers which lines will not be operating as usual on the coming weekend due to repair works. Were it not for London's traffic, I would have opted for the (exorbitantly expensive) cabs instead of riding the Tube.

The latest fad in London now is free newspapers. Published by established media groups, these are handed out during the afternoon rush hour. As far as I could tell, there are two: London Lite (here again, no respect for proper English spelling) and The London Paper. I was browsing through one while waiting for a friend at Leicester Square to go see a play (Donkeys' Years, a British comedy) and in five minutes I learnt the following: 1. Bono (of U2) is married (or dating, I can't remember) a 24-year-old, and was photographed topless (Bono that is) while on holiday in Croatia; 2. Farah Fawcett (ex Charlie Angel) is fighting cancer; 3. Commuters on the Tube listening to loud music on their earphones is something that has been troubling many Londoners of late, and; 4. An actor by the name of Walliams (I think) appeared nude on stage last night. Think of all that wealth of knowledge you're missing out on because you don't live in London!

But there was one discovery I made on this trip which made it entirely worthwhile, a discovery that will make many future trips to London more enjoyable. Selfridge's Food Hall serves Krispy Kreme doughnuts!!! If you enter the store from the second door on Baker Street (the door furthest away from Oxford Street) you will stumble right onto the doughnut stand. This means I no longer need to wait until I visit the US to have a Krispy Kreme doughnut. Well worth all the aggravation London is giving me...

Plastic World

I lost my wallet yesterday (or perhaps it was taken from me) on my way to the airport in Seoul, South Korea.

I remember using it last to pay for the airport bus at the hotel. A couple of hours later, at the airport, it was no longer with me. With only an hour or so to go until my flight, I barely had time to get my wits together and start cancelling my credit cards in 4 different countries. I had to continue the process during the flight itself; thank you Lufthansa for wireless access on board...

In one instant I came to realize how much we rely on the "Plastic World". I had several cards in my wallet: six credit cards, one ATM card, a DeutscheBahn train card, my medical insurance card, my drivers license, my dialling card and probably another few cards I don't quite remember were there. (Thankfully, my passport was in a separate place). Suddenly I was unable to withdraw cash, to make phone calls, to rent a car or to reserve anything online. It's going to take a while until all my cards are renewed and until then I will be living in a crippled, Plastic-less world.

Here's an idea for a startup: a memory chip that will contain all personal data and cards which, if lost, can be reproduced at any bank or post office in the world by identifying the owner, preferably using DNA, fingerprints, etc. The technology is surely there and it's only a question of putting the right checks and balances in place to avoid misuse of such a technology.

I'm off to London after Yom Kippur. It's going to be a cash-only trip as I won't have my credit cards renewed by then; I'm not looking forward to that experience...

Oriana Fallaci and Benedict

How symbolic is it that Oriana Fallaci, Italian journalist and author, passed away on the same week that Pope Benedict made his remarks about Islam, sparking the fury of Muslims worldwide and forcing him to make several public apologies to soothe the "hurt feelings" of the world's second-biggest religion.

Fallaci made her reputation in the 70s and 80s as a no-nonsense journalist who interviewed the world's leaders and put them on the spot time and again. In recent years she made headlines mostly as a result of her tireless tirades against the Islamisation of Europe (or "Eurabia" in her words). I recently read her last book "La Forza della Ragione" ("The Force of Reason"), which is a follow-up to her post-9/11 book "The Rage and the Pride". In "Reason", Fallaci tells the readers about the numerous death threats she received as a result of her comments in the first book. She identifies herself with Master Cecco, who was put to the stake by the Inquisition on account of his beliefs and heretical writings. Fallaci writes with passion but does not allow this passion to shadow the "force of reason" when examining the trends in her homeland. She writes in the first person, often addressing the reader directly, and I found her Italian to be fascinating and rich.

By now Pope Benedict and the Vatican msut have apologised perhaps seven times for daring to quote some obscure Byzantine emperor's views about the violent nature of Islam. I wonder how many of the offended Muslims, who attacked Christians and burnt down churches, paused to think how by their actions they are proving the accuracy of the Byzantine emperor's observations...

An appropriate epilogue to this post is this link to an article by Sam Harris in the LA Times this week. As Harris puts it, "a cult of death is forming in the Muslim world". Five years after 9/11, the Al Qaeda attack on the US is sadly proving to be only a prelude to the real war still ahead of us all.

Welcome Aboard

The following "truthful" in-flight announcement appeared in this week's The Economist. This is what these announcements would be like if the airlines would only tell us the truth.

Welcome aboard

In-flight announcements are not entirely truthful. What might an honest one sound like?

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We are delighted to welcome you aboard Veritas Airways, the airline that tells it like it is. Please ensure that your seat belt is fastened, your seat back is upright and your tray-table is stowed. At Veritas Airways, your safety is our first priority. Actually, that is not quite true: if it were, our seats would be rear-facing, like those in military aircraft, since they are safer in the event of an emergency landing. But then hardly anybody would buy our tickets and we would go bust.

The flight attendants are now pointing out the emergency exits. This is the part of the announcement that you might want to pay attention to. So stop your sudoku for a minute and listen: knowing in advance where the exits are makes a dramatic difference to your chances of survival if we have to evacuate the aircraft. Also, please keep your seat belt fastened when seated, even if the seat-belt light is not illuminated. This is to protect you from the risk of clear-air turbulence, a rare but extremely nasty form of disturbance that can cause severe injury. Imagine the heavy food trolleys jumping into the air and bashing into the overhead lockers, and you will have some idea of how nasty it can be. We don't want to scare you. Still, keep that seat belt fastened all the same.

Your life-jacket can be found under your seat, but please do not remove it now. In fact, do not bother to look for it at all. In the event of a landing on water, an unprecedented miracle will have occurred, because in the history of aviation the number of wide-bodied aircraft that have made successful landings on water is zero. This aircraft is equipped with inflatable slides that detach to form life rafts, not that it makes any difference. Please remove high-heeled shoes before using the slides. We might as well add that space helmets and anti-gravity belts should also be removed, since even to mention the use of the slides as rafts is to enter the realm of science fiction.

Please switch off all mobile phones, since they can interfere with the aircraft's navigation systems. At least, that's what you've always been told. The real reason to switch them off is because they interfere with mobile networks on the ground, but somehow that doesn't sound quite so good. On most flights a few mobile phones are left on by mistake, so if they were really dangerous we would not allow them on board at all, if you think about it. We will have to come clean about this next year, when we introduce in-flight calling across the Veritas fleet. At that point the prospect of taking a cut of the sky-high calling charges will miraculously cause our safety concerns about mobile phones to evaporate.

On channel 11 of our in-flight entertainment system you will find a video consisting of abstract imagery and a new-age soundtrack, with a voice-over explaining some exercises you can do to reduce the risk of deep-vein thrombosis. We are aware that this video is tedious, but it is not meant to be fun. It is meant to limit our liability in the event of lawsuits.

Once we have reached cruising altitude you will be offered a light meal and a choice of beverages—a word that sounds so much better than just saying ‘drinks’, don't you think? The purpose of these refreshments is partly to keep you in your seats where you cannot do yourselves or anyone else any harm. Please consume alcohol in moderate quantities so that you become mildly sedated but not rowdy. That said, we can always turn the cabin air-quality down a notch or two to help ensure that you are sufficiently drowsy.

After take-off, the most dangerous part of the flight, the captain will say a few words that will either be so quiet that you will not be able to hear them, or so loud that they could wake the dead. So please sit back, relax and enjoy the flight. We appreciate that you have a choice of airlines and we thank you for choosing Veritas, a member of an incomprehensible alliance of obscure foreign outfits, most of which you have never heard of. Cabin crew, please make sure we have remembered to close the doors. Sorry, I mean: ‘Doors to automatic and cross-check’. Thank you for flying Veritas.”

Until I Find You, by John Irving

Whenever I get a chance to spend time wandering around a bookstore with no particular book in mind (sadly not too often), I always check if one of my favourite writers has published a new book. One of these writers is John Irving. For many years now, Irving has been near the top of my favourites list, with A Prayer for Owen Meany probably being one of the best, if not the best, novel I have ever read. It was therefore with great expectations that I took his latest book - Until I Find You - with me on my latest trip to Japan, looking forward to long hours of reading pleasure on the flights.

Alas, it was not to be. I have had disappointments from recent Irving books, but Until was probably the greatest letdown. I learnt a lot about tattoos but despite the familiar Irving prose this book somehow seemed too long and repetitive. And the ending was hugely disappointing.

The book tells the story of Jack Burns, "actor before he was an actor", son to Alice, a tattoo artist, and to William, an organ player. William falls out of love with Alice shortly after meeting her, but she is pregnant with child and does not agree to let William go without a fight. When Jack is four he tours Europe with Alice, moving from city to city, from church organ to church organ, in the hope of tracking William down and confronting him with his "abandoned responsibilities". In the first third of the book (total: >800 pages!) Jack recounts this odyssey through Europe, reconstructing it from the memory of 4-year-old.

After the failed hunt for William, Alice and Jack go back to Toronto and Jack is enrolled in an all-girls school, St. Hilda's, where boys are admitted until grade four. It is there that he discovers his affinity for "older women" and where he meets Emma Oastler, who becomes his mentor and life-time friend. From St. Hilda's Jack goes to a boarding school in New England, this time an all-boys school. Eventually, Jack moves to Los Angeles and becomes a famous actor, winning an Oscar for a screenplay adapted from one of Emma's books after her death. In the last third of the book, and after his mother dies, Jack discovers the truth about his parents and he embarks on a second odyssey to Europe, this time seeing the stories his mother told him in a totally different light.

As usual, Irving's characters are described in detail and become memorable personae: Jack's third-grade teacher, Catherine "The Wurtz", who ends up as his companion to the Oscars; Michelle Maher, one of Jack's many girlfriends, but the one he never forgets; numerous tattoo artists, all Alice's friends, who helped her and Jack during their voyage in Europe lending them a place to "sleep in the needles"; and many more. Irving's characters become very vivid in the reader's mind, and because of the length of his novels some of them become almost friends. I remember the feeling I had when I finished reading The Cider House Rules during my military duty: I felt very sad to have to "say goodbye" to some of the characters after weeks of companionship.

Some of Irving's regular and recurring themes are also present in Until: New England, boarding schools, wrestling and coaching, intra-family intimate ties, single motherhood, marital infedilities, etc. Curiously missing, though, are the bears... Irving's use of repeated phrases that become the leitmotif of the book are also present in Until, except that this time I found them to be somewhat too repetitive (how many times can one read about Jack's fondness for his penis being held by an older woman?).

As much as it pains me to write this, it seems that Irving is past his prime. He made his fame with A World According to Garp (personally not one of my favourites and a terrible movie adaptation) and then solidified his literary prominence through bestsellers such as The Cider House Rules, A Son of the Circus and The Fourth Hand. But it is his earlier novels - for example The Hotel New Hampshire or A Prayer for Owen Meany - that are truly his best. If you are new to Irving, Until I Find You is definitely not the book you should read first.

Pachinko

I never really understood the hold gambling has on some people. On my visits to Las Vegas I have watched those people sitting in front of the slot machines, mechanically pushing the buttons or pulling the lever, watching the wheels turn round with glassy expressions for hours on end. I understand these people have a problem but I cannot grasp the depths of human misery that drives them to such senseless behaviour.

Pachinko is, by far, the most common form of gambling in Japan. A Pachinko machine is a cross between a pinball machine and a slot machine. The player buys a large number of small steel and, using a small knob, controls the speed at which the balls are fed into the machine. The balls drop down through an array of pins and are mostly ejected from the machine but, if you're lucky, some of them go through a gate which give the player points (i.e. more balls). At the end of the day, the more balls you're left with, the better. A modern, and increasingly more popular, version of the game is the Pachislot, basically a slot machine.

Pachinko parlours are usually located near train stations. They are noisy and smoky places, with a dazzling display of coloured lights and incessant annoying background music. Players sit in long rows in front of the machines, their right hand permanently on the knob and their eyes fixed on the dropping balls. It's a sad sight. Because gambling for money is illegal in Japan, the player can exchange the balls he earned for prizes such as stuffed toys, pens or cigarette lighters. Then, once outside, he can exchange these prizes for money at the small shops near the parlours that exist for this sole purpose. Neat loophole.

Allegedly, today's pachinko parlours are mostly owned by Korean immigrants and natually there is considerable involvement of the Japanese mafia (the infamous Yakuza) in this lucrative business. Every summer, there are reports of babies suffocating to death in parked cars, left there to wait while their father or mother are busy playing Pachinko.

In my four and half years living in Japan I have never visited a Pachinko parlour. Last week, on a short visit to Tokyo, I decided I should check it out. I went to the parlour outside Akasaka-Mitsuke station with a colleague from work. He was my tour guide. I inserted a 1,000 yen note (about $8.5) into the machine, got my balls, and started feeding them into the machine. Frankly speaking, there is absolutely nothing to it. It doesn't look as if the speed at which the balls enter the machine matters, although my friend insisted that I hold the knob so that the balls hit a specific area in the needle array. About 20 minutes and 5,000 yen later I got the point and put an end to my short and inglorious Pachinko career.

Flying with Israelis and with Japanese

Flying from Tel Aviv through Frankfurt to Tokyo this week, I was on two Lufthansa flights on the same day. So same environment: same airline, same crew (not the actual people of course) and same service.

The main difference between the two flights was that most of the passengers on the Tel Aviv-Frankfurt flights were Israelis while most of the passengers on the Frankfurt-Tokyo flight were Japanese. The other difference was the duration of the flight: 3.5 hours for the first flight vs. 10.5 hours for the second.

For the sake of brevity, let's call them the "Israeli flight" and the "Japanese flight" accordingly. Here below are some observations about my experiences on these two flights. Keep the above differences in mind and draw your own conclusions:

• On the Israeli flight, 10 minutes after the "boarding completed" announcement (i.e. all passengers on board) was made, people were still fumbling with their bags and standing in the aisles. On the Japanese flight, everybody was seated.
• Throughout the Israeli flight, except for take-off and landing (first and last 20 minutes of the flight), most of the aisles and the area near the galleys were blocked by people standing and talking to each other. On the Japanese flight, the aisles were free throughout the flight except for the occasional person hurrying to/from the bathroom.
• The one time I needed the bathroom on the Israeli flight I had to wait in line for 5 minutes. The three times I needed the bathroom on the Japanese flight I never waited.
• The bathroom I frequented on the Israeli flight had paper towels on the floor and the toilet was not flushed by the previous user(s). The bathrooms I used on the Japanese flight were spotless (there might have been some water drops near the basin, I'm not sure).
• I sat near the galley (exit row on both flights). Throughout the Israeli flight I kept hearing the "ping" sounds that warn the flight attendants that someone pushed the call button. I never heard one "ping" on the Japanese flight.
• As the plane was approaching the gate, and upon hearing the pursar utter the words "flight attendants, all doors in park", almost all passengers on the Israeli flight jumped from their seats and dove for the overhead compartments to fetch their bags. Needless to say, the "fasten seat belts" sign was still on. On the Japanese flight nobody moved before the "fasten seat belts" sign was off.

As I said, draw your own conclusions...

Still Here

Well, it's August 23 and we're still here.

I think that the reports about Ahmadinajad planning something terrible against Israel this week were correct. However, it wasn't a nuclear attack. It was something else.

His scientists seem to have been successful in devising a monstrous way to make us suffer. They found a way to heat Israel up to an intolerable degree. The heat wave here is simply out of this world and I refuse to believe God has anything to do with it. It must be the Persians.

Two Days To Go

According to Bernard Lewis, a well-respected scholar on Islam and the Middle East, there is a chance Israel has only two days to live. Come Tuesday, we'll be nuked by Iran.

I'm letting you all know, just in case I suddenly stop blogging. If I do, you'll know why.

Humour - From the Other Side

One of the things I missed in this war is the humour. During the first Gulf War, when missiles rained on Israel almost every night, Israelis developed a wonderful sense of humour (some of it black). The zehu zeh trio on TV were at their peak at the time. This time around - nothing. Perhaps a sign of the malaise...

Anyway, I saw today the following joke. It's from "the other side" and it's funny (in a sad kind of way):

Olmert was sitting in his office wondering how to invade Lebanon when his telephone rang.

"Hallo, Mr. Olmert!" a heavily accented voice said. "This is Abul Abed, down at the tea house in Beirut! I am callin' to tell ya dat we are officially declaring war on you, yes you!"

"Well" Olmert replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is your army?"

"Right now," said Abul Abed, after a moment's calculation "there is myself, my cousin Mustafa, me next-door-neighbor Abou Khaled, and the whole team from the tea house. That makes eight!"

Olmert paused. "I must tell you Abul Abed, that I have one million men in my army waiting to move on my command."

"Holy jeez," said Abul Abed. "I'll have to call ya back!"

Sure enough, the next day, Abul Abed called again. "Mr. Olmert, the war is still on! We have managed to acquire some infantry equipment!"

"And what equipment would that be Abul Abed?" Olmert asked.

"Well sir, we have two Mercedes 180, and a truck."

Olmert sighed. "I must tell you Abul Abed, that I have 16,000 tanks and 14,000 armored personnel carriers. Also I've increased my army to one and a half million since we last spoke."

"Ya lateeeeef", said Abul Abed, "I'll be getting back to ya."

Sure enough, Abul Abed rang again the next day. "Mr. Olmert, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We modified a helicopter with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four more neighbors have joined us as well!"

Olmert was silent for a minute then cleared his throat. "I must tell you Abul Abed that I have 10,000 bombers and 20,000 fighter planes. My military complex is surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I've increased my army to TWO MILLION!"

"Lah lah lah lah," said Abul Abed, "I'll have to call you back."

Sure enough, Abul Abed called again the next day. "Olmert I am sorry to have to tell you dat we have had to call off this war."

"I'm sorry to hear that" said Olmert. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, sir," said Abul Abed, "we've all sat ourselves down and had a long chat, and come to realize there's no way we can feed two million prisoners."

War? What War?

Voices calling for dismissal of Chief of Staff Dan Chalutz are not new, from left and from right.

The left do not like him because they think he's an insensitive brute. When asked by a journalist last year what it feels like when launching a missile into Gaza knowing civilians might get hurt (Chalutz is a pilot), he said: "all you feel is a slight bump in the wing and you go on".

The right do not like him because of his role in the disengagement process a year ago, when he commanded the IDF troops that evacuated Gaza's Jewish population.

This morning, the Israeli daily Ma'ariv published the following story: on July 12 at noon, Chalutz called his broker at the bank and asked him to sell his stock portfolio, worth about 120,000 NIS (about $27,000). This was only a few hours after the kidnapping of the two Israeli soldiers by Hezbollah. The IDF and Hezbollah were trading fire, Israeli warplanes were bombing southern Lebanon in an attempt to block the kidnappers' escape route, Israeli tanks were in pursuit of the kidnappers inside Lebanon and the Israeli cabinet was debating whether to start a war or not.

Chalutz did not deny the story. He commented that his portfolio was a private affair that had nothing to do with the war, and that in any case on July 12 he still "did not think and did not foresee that there would be a war".

Chalutz should go home. Not because he thought about selling his portfolio at a time when the IDF was in hot pursuit of the kidnappers; it's bad, but not reason to fire him. However, the fact that the Chief of Staff says that at noon on July 12 he "did not think and did not foresee" that a war was a realistic possibility is absolutely unbelievable and unacceptable. This is a clear failure of the highest authority in the army.

War Over - Lies Exposed

War is over (for now). Olmert made his victory speech. Time to check the lies I wrote about a few days into the war:

We are fighting to get the kidnapped soldiers back. All Israeli soldiers are on their way out of Lebanon, except for Goldwasser and Regev. And Shalit is still somewhere in Gaza. If these three come back home, they will do so in the "conventional" way, i.e. in return for the release of terrorists and prisoners from Israeli jails. Not because of the war.

Our aim is to crush Hezbollah. The last day of war saw 250 rockets and missiles launched by Hezbollah into Israel; images from Haifa made the city look like a war zone. Tens of Israeli Merkava tanks were put out of order by Hezbollah's anti-tank fire. Not one village in southern Lebanon is free of Hezbollah control. Need I continue? An ideological organization like Hezbollah cannot be crushed. Period.

The air campaign is effective. If so, why the ground offensive? Why more than 100 soldiers dead? Why did the number of rockets increase, not decrease, as the air campaign proceeded?

The people are behind us. This was and remains to some extent true. Except that many of these people view the government as a total failure in the way it dealt with the very same "people". The erection of the "tent city" in Tel Aviv yesterday, hours before the ceasefire, epitomizes the uselessness of the government's response to its citizens' needs in time of war.

The world is behind us. Right... The same world that saved us from continued embarrassment by forcing the ceasefire.

We will establish a security zone in Lebanon without IDF's presence. Yet to be seen... I heard Morrocco, Malaysia and Indonesia - all Islamic countries - are offering to send troops to man UNIFIL's "expanded" force in southern Lebanon. Knowing they will be there protecting me, together with the French, makes me sleep better at night.

Prognosis: Profound Malaise

Shortly after the rioting in Paris' banlieues at the end of last year, French President Jacques Chirac addressed the nation on TV and diagnosed France as suffering from une profonde malaise. The rioting was merely a symptom of the general feeling of unease and discomfort so rife in France, a feeling of despair and helplessness with the present coupled with gloomy predictions about the future.

My prognosis is that Israel will enter a similar state following the ceasefire (which, barring last-minute surprises, is expected to begin tomorrow).

Despite some gains on the ground and on the diplomatic front, the general feeling here is that Israel lost this war. The government is perceived as being too hesitant and indecisive; it took too long to approve the ground offensive, only to backtrack a mere 24 hours after the green light was finally given. The IDF is perceived as a rusty and bulky war machine, ill-equipped to deal with a nimble and determined enemy such as the Hezbollah and unable to reduce, let alone eliminate, the daily bombardment of Israeli cities. Stories are beginning to appear in the media about unavailable equipment to the reservist soldiers and about neglect of thousands of northern residents stranded in shelters. In the last two days, government officials and army generals were busy making veiled but obvious comments to the media about who's fault it all is, no doubt in preparation for the post-war investigation committees.

Israel entered this war with almost optimum conditions: the enemy did not expect it, the public was solidly behind it and, at least initially, the world did not cry foul. And yet, through a series of miscalculations and a misplaced sense of hubris, it finds itself a month later picking up the pieces and trying to salvage what can still be salvaged of its deterrence and reputation. The repercussions are obvious: heads are going to roll, the government will not live out its term and our enemies will make most of their victory.

An inevitable profound malaise will permeate all walks of life in Israel as the countdown to the next war will begin.