All Candles and No Tinsel

Hanukkah is almost over, the seventh candle will be lit tonight. It’s a very different holiday in Israel than in the US. In Israel it’s a minor one, meaning no days off work. There are a few parties – on the kibbutz one for the children and another one for everybody else. There are jelly donuts, chocolate truffles, potato latkes and, let us not forget, the ritual lighting of the candles. But that’s pretty much it, and it’s pretty drab.

In the US Hanukkah is the Jewish Christmas and actually piggy-backs (you should pardon the expression) on the Christian holiday. Houses are decorated with lights inside and out. There are sparkly decorations everywhere. And parties, let’s not forget the parties with all the fare listed above plus eggnog and fruitcake, my personal favorites. Carolers roam the neighborhoods singing for Jews and Christians alike and while they don’t usually know the dreidel song, “Jingle Bells” is ecumenical enough.

In general Israeli holidays could use some zhuzhing up. I miss the glitzy winter blow-out and the warm, fuzzy euphoria that went with it. As joyful as it was, it also had a jubilant denouement: New Year’s Eve. But that’s another story.

The Planting of the Bulbs

Last week I finished planting all the bulbs. I had gone wild in a fit of horticultural frenzy and ordered all sorts of flower bulbs from the garden guy. I was longing for a splash of color in a garden that was too, I’m having trouble finding the word, modest – austere – minimal – boring. You get the picture.

So I planted gladiolas, irises and narcissi (these were a present from the garden guy, bless him!) along the rocks in the back. In the front, hyacinths and tulips. The thing I like about bulbs is you stick them in the ground once and they keep coming up year after year with no intervention required from me. It fits my laziest-gardener-on-the-planet persona. I love plants and seeing them grow and thrive, but whenever I try to garden I just seem to get into trouble. Witness: the calla lilies.

I had this huge terracotta pot that would be perfect for callas, I thought. It’s a great plant – huge green leaves and architectural white flowers. Last year I asked the garden guy to bring me one, but just to be sure he brought me two packages, a total of five bulbs. Like an idiot, I planted them all. They grew beautifully, fantastically, and then alarmingly! They ultimately split the pot and continued to grow. The only reason the pot is not in pieces on the ground is that the roots will not let it go. So now a whole team of gardeners is going to have to come to transfer the callas to a spot in the garden which is probably where they should have been all along.

I’ll be happy if the bulbs I’ve planted will grow and flower the way they’re supposed to, but not more than that. I don’t want to have to machete my way to the front door. Even so, at least that garden wouldn't be boring.

Take Me to the Fair

The kibbutz as an organization tries its best to make life convenient and commodious. One way it does this is to bring in suppliers of goods and services for the members to buy at discount prices. This saves the need to shlep to town and pay full market price while making it possible to survive on a meager kibbutz budget. Every couple of months the dining hall becomes the scene of a clothing or shoe fair, and sometimes there’s something like jewelry or Tupperware.

They usually give you enough advanced warning to consider your options. Do I really need another pair of purple Crocs? But this Thursday I was caught unawares. I walked in to visit my mailbox and there was a display of big-ticket items: refrigerators, dishwashers, microwaves, LCD televisions. I was stunned. You mean we can buy this stuff?

As it happens, my tv is not so old. Why do I say that? Because I can remember buying it. So it can’t be more than 11 or 12, but it has been showing signs of fatigue. A year and a half ago I actually had to send it away for repair, leaving me to cope with separation anxiety for a full week. Now it shows symptoms of jaundice when I turn it on although this usually disappears after an hour or so. Given this and the fact that beautiful flat-screens have lately achieved affordability, I had decided to buy one probably next summer.

What should I do? Wait as I had planned and hunt around the stores until I find the best tv and negotiate the price/installation/delivery fees by myself, or take the kibbutz-negotiated deal now? Of course I opted for now. I don’t yet know when it will be delivered, but I am already anticipating the hours of couch-potato heaven in front of my new, big LCD. I just hope there’ll be something worth watching.

Hamsin Hair

The weather has been glorious for the past week, although I don't think most of my compatriots would agree. Israel's prevailing winds are usually from the west and the sea, meaning mild temperatures and considerable humidity. But every once in a while the winds shift bringing hot, dry air from the desert in the east. This sharav, hamsin in Arabic, inspires fear and loathing in most inhabitants of the region. I, however, think it's fabulous.

I like it hot, as I've mentioned before, and the warm, bone dry air is pleasant enough, but it also carries one big advantage as far as I'm concerned. My hair is naturally curly. I've never liked it. I always wanted it smooth and straight with maybe a hint of flip at the very end, not the frizz-fest I've been cursed with. Every morning I straighten it out with the dryer, but it's an exercise in futility. After a few minutes at normal humidity, the curls are back. During a sharav what I straighten stays straight. How could I not love this weather anomaly?

It's December, all the windows are open and it's no struggle to stay warm. Rain is on the way, that much is certain. But for the time being all this gorgeousness must be savored. At the same time I confess I'm kicking myself in the head. Why, oh why didn't I settle in Eilat?