Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?

This week Israel celebrates its 64^th birthday. What better time than now, to reflect on the words of the Declaration of the State, as read out by David Ben Gurion all those years ago:

"THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open to the immigration of Jews and for the Ingathering of the Exiles from all countries of their dispersion; will promote the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; will be based on the precepts of liberty, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; will uphold the full social and political equality of all its citizens, without distinction of race, creed or sex; will guarantee full freedom of conscience, worship, education and culture; will safeguard the sanctity and inviolability of the shrines and Holy Places of all religions; and will dedicate itself to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.

 …

PLACING OUR TRUST IN THE ROCK OF ISRAEL, we affix our signatures to this proclamation… in the city of Tel Aviv… on the 5^th of Iyar, 5708 (May 14, 1948)."

I love the "Rock of Israel" bit, which apparently was a euphemism for The One Above, and which satisfied both the religious and the anti-religious among them.

And it's rousing, patriotic stuff, and certainly worth reminding us all, what this country is all about. I could of course, add:

"THE STATE OF ISRAEL will promote the development of pensions and other freebies for workers [sic] in the Israel Electric Corporation, the Israel Defense Forces, and the Bank of Israel, even to the extent of cutting and withdrawing social benefits to the rest of the population; will cover as much land as possible by the widest and most wasteful roads that befit a tiny, densely populated modern state; and will patronize the weakest deciles of the population, irrespective of race, creed or sex, by promulgating an infinitesimally small tax change that improves their take-home pay by up to 12 shekels a month."

But I won't, because it just doesn't seem appropriate.

And Wednesday also sees one of the oddest, most peculiar features of the Israeli calendar. I'm referring to the juxtaposition (and we don't use that word often enough, do we, possums?) of the somber Memorial Day, which morphs, seamlessly, into the joyous Independence Day. And what better encapsulates this dichotomy than the extraordinary tale of Yona Malina.

He was born in Czechoslovakia in 1967, but his family moved to Switzerland when he was still young. He grew up not knowing his Jewish origins, as his family, devastated by the experiences of the Holocaust, chose to forget those origins. But in time, and with encouragement from his beloved grandmother, his full family history came to light and, as a young adult, he visited Israel, where he fell in love with the country.

He happily unearthed his Jewish roots, studied Hebrew (to add to his other fluent 7 languages) and the holy texts of Judaism, and adopted a Hebrew name, Yona.

In 1995, at the age of 28, just after finishing his ulpan (a five-month intensive Hebrew course for new immigrants, where I met Yona), whilst traveling to Hebrew University by bus, he was critically injured in a terror attack. The medical staff at Hadassah, however, managed to save his life, though he was paralyzed from the neck down, and remained dependent on life-support.

I visited Yona in the week after the incident, in the intensive care unit of Hadassah hospital. He was allowed one visitor at a time by his bed. He was unable to speak. Or, at least, he could move his lips, but given his condition at the time, no sound came out. It was the oddest conversation I had, as I had to lip-read to understand him, (which is pretty difficult). A nurse asked me what language Yona spoke, because so far she's heard every language under the sun from all the visitors and she didn't know what language she ought to speak to him in!

His amazing parents, the incredible Eva and Jan, flew Yona back to Switzerland where he was cared for in an institution which is regarded as one of the best in the world for people in such a condition. But Yona was not happy there, and insisted, despite his paralysis, that he be allowed to emigrate, once again, to Israel.

He did so. With the help and support of incredible friends and family, Yona returned and was placed in Tel Hashomer, that vast hospital-cum-village. Though well cared for there, it was not ideal, and he petitioned the High Court to live in his own residence away from the hospital. The High Court granted his request, and he moved, together with a round-the-clock staff into an apartment in Kiryat Ono. 

I used to visit him often, and his parents would fly out regularly. He continued to study, joke, be interested in all around him, and to travel, when possible.

The doctors had originally estimated that someone in Yona's condition could live just one year in that state. But Yona was exceptional, an optimist, an idealist, a fighter for what he believed in.

In 2005, he succumbed to an infection that knocked him out completely. I remember his mother telling me as he lay in a coma that week, "We're waiting for God to take him". He finally passed away, May 30, 2005, 10 years after the bomb attack.

He was 38.

***

May everyone enjoy a wonderful Yom Haatzmaut.

Is it just me, or are things getting better and better?

Why is this Pesach different?

Is it? Well it's Pesach 5772, spring of 2012, and we should be out there celebrating.

It's the spring holiday, the festive time of year when we eat dried sheets of cardboard and dream of chocolate Easter eggs. Traditionally, we remember when we, the Israelites, were delivered from slavery in Egypt, and became a free people.

I think it's highly appropriate that we take this opportunity--when Israel is being vilified in the international media, and when Israeli diplomats get invited only to the wrong parties--and count our lucky stars that we have what we do indeed have. No, I don't mean shingles. I mean, those everyday parts of our lives that have changed over the years, and which should remind us of how dreadful it used to be. So let's clap our hands, bang those cymbals, rattle those pots and pans, and thank The One Above for:

• Cheaper phone calls. Don't you remember you used to have to argue with Bezeq to get a new line, and then wait for months? And when you wanted to call abroad, you had to stay up till 2 in the morning to get the cheap rate, by which time you'd forgotten what it was you wanted to say? But then the phone sector was opened to competition and we never looked back. In the old days, we would have to make firm arrangements, by letter, three weeks in advance, to meet a friend at 9 (but obviously not turn up till 10 past). Now, however, with the latest smartass-phone technology, and for only 155 shekels a month, I can telepathically send an SMS to my friend who lives in the flat below, who I spoke to, via facebook not 3 seconds ago, just to let them know that I won't be ready until 10 past! It saves so much hassle!
• Television programs have got so much better too. There used to be no choice at all. Everyone would be sat at home, watching Upstairs Downstairs on the only channel available, because there was no alternative. Now we have 154 channels, some of them in languages that we understand, offering a non-stop stream of fascinating documentaries, cookery knock-out programmes, and canned-laughter comedies that would bring tears to Mona Lisa's cheeks. And yet, still, we're all glued to The Voice, or Big Brother because… er… 
• Political justice. More and more former politicians, cabinet ministers and presidents, are finding themselves where they always deserved to be: Maasiyahu Prison! And in no way does this seem to have affected the quality of our legislation (though it has brought down the quality of our prison population).
• Currency regulations have gone. Once upon a time, in defense of the shekel, so they claimed, it was forbidden for an Israeli citizen to hold foreign currency. I remember, as a tourist, I was once in Haifa, looking to exchange my pounds for shekels. I asked a kiosk owner, innocently, if he knew where I could change money. He looked left and right (just like in the films) before whispering "I'll change it for you." All very hush hush, cloak and dagger stuff. Now we can all hold as much foreign currency as we like, and if you are thinking of selling a few dollars, there's a distinguished looking gentleman, just call him Stan, who stands on the corner of Kaplan Street, Jerusalem, every morning at 9:30 who'll be willing to buy any spare dollars you have for a good price. And the shekel doesn't seem to have suffered, mate.
• Israelis are far better looking than they used to be. Astonishingly this has happened at exactly the same time as my eyesight has got worse. It must be something in the water.
• Affordable luxury. It used to be the case that only billionaires could afford the most expensive properties in Israel. But today, what with the purchase-groups, subsidies, social protest tent city domino effect, and the cottage cheese campaign, even common, or garden, millionaires can snap up a luxury apartment or two in downtown Tel Aviv. Apparently the last penthouses are on sale in the Bergen-Gandhi-Yoohu project for a little under 5 million shekels, which includes valet-bicycle parking and a whole week's supply of cottage cheese.
• Ethnic diversity and tolerance. There was once upon a time a terrible social divide between the Ashkenazim (the East European establishment of lawyers, judges and poets) and the Sephardim (the North African, swarthy, raucous no-collar workers). But today we are all one, or, in the words of Rav Mecher "We are all kitniyot eaters, now".

May you enjoy the Pesach/Easter break. Happy holidays.

Idle hands make light work

And on the first day, the Voice in the Sky said: Let there be light.

So the Israel Electric Corporation sent round a team of ten: 1 light engineer, 1 electrician, a retired switch operator, his mate, the tea boy, the trainee, the PA, a union official to check that all was ok, and two extras, as ordained by clause 4.5(1)a of the Israel Electric How to Employ Anyone Manual. And they looked and they hummed and they hahed. Or even haahed. But mostly they hummed.

Eventually the engineer wrote a detailed report and had it sent to the New Lights Division, which read it, proofed it, photocopied it, analyzed it, sat on it, chewed it, and then put it into practice.

So finally, on the 245th day, there was light.

Of course that was just my little joke. I mean, whoever heard of an IEC engineer writing a report, and having a new light installed all within 246 days?

The Israel Electric Corporation, now there’s a sly one. They’ve been very quiet recently. Why make a fuss when they seem to be getting their way without much of a struggle, and the Bolshie workers at the Israel Railways are hogging all the limelight?

But I do believe our electricity utility needs a closer examination, just for the fun of it.

Your electricity bill, my friends, is about to leap. Yes, we’ve managed to get the cost of cottage cheese down, and even cartons of milk are facing competition. But electricity? Not bloody likely. We’ll have to wait for the next revolution for that one.

Come next Sunday, my blogpals, you will see your electricity bill leap by almost 9%. Yes, 9%. Halevai we should all be enjoying 9% pay rises. Inflation is running at just over 2% (thanks Stanley) on an annual basis, so what gives the IEC, a monopoly, the right to up our prices by more than four times the inflation rate?

It’s the price of oil, moans the IEC. That’s the problem. Higher oil prices, and a supply of gas from Egypt that keeps stopping every time revolutionary bandita, Mustafa Leak, has a tantrum.

Electricity does not grow on trees, it needs to be generated from some other form of energy - wind, sun, coal, oil, gas. The IEC has a supply of gas from Egypt, but apparently that’s not to be relied on. And when the gas gets turned off, the IEC has to turn to coal (expensive and very dirty, and not found naturally in Israel) or oil (also expensive, terribly difficult to remove if you get it on your overalls, and also not found naturally in bulk in Israel).

Now the IEC can’t just up prices, like so. Any change in its tariff has first to be approved by the Nameless Inefficient Committee of Mostly Politicians or Other Obsolete Penpushers, or NINCOMPOOP for short. So, the IEC, grumbling about high costs, unreliable gas supplies etc., goes running to NINCOMPOOP, (ok, so its real name is Public Utility Authority: Electricity) claiming it needs to raise prices by 37% just to keep solvent. Well 37% is over the top, even for a statutory monopoly, so after a chop here, a back-scratch there, a fuel tax jiggle somewhere else, approval was given for an 8.9% rise this year, followed by another rise in 2013 and another in 2014.

But where’s the incentive for the IEC to trim its fat? Why doesn’t the state set a price rise for electricity at say 3% (or the rate of the inflation), and tell the company to plan ahead and think of ways to make the company more efficient, less wasteful. It can be done.

When I was working on a building site in Jerusalem many years ago, we had to call in the IEC to move an electricity pylon. About five people turned up, and while two did the job, the rest sat on the side and counted their pensions or pointed at someone who actually did something for a living and laughed.

There is talk of changes in the electricity monopoly, but you’ll find that the IEC can dig its heels in fairly firmly when it likes.

Photo: solarenergylive.com

It took them years until they agreed to what’s known as net metering. In some countries, anyone can generate their own power, typically using solar panels. Usually you end up generating more than you need (or at least, more than you need at the time, because electricity cannot be stored). So the sensible thing is... wait for it, you’ll like this... you sell your surplus electricity back to the electric company! Your electricity meter goes the other way! This is known as net metering, and only several years after it was common practice in Germany (where they don’t even get enough sun for the solar panels), the IEC is now allowing the same thing here. Reluctantly.

The IEC had also set up a secret fund to finance all their happy perks: the holiday gifts for their workers, the free electricity for employees (current and retired), that sort of thing. But this was an illegal hoard, and last week the state ordered the company to take 90% of the funds from this kitty, and put it in with all the rest of their cash. 90% of what? How much do you think the IEC - barely able to scrape by, what with the high cost of oil and gas etc. etc.- had stashed away in this fund? TWO BILLION SHEKELS.

Think of that when you get your bigger bill next month.

O Wondrous Combustion Engine, Hallowed Be Thy Name

As an elderly couple are walking along the street in Tel Aviv, they notice a parking space. The woman steps into the space, stands firmly in the center of it, spreads her arms wide, and says to her husband “Quick, Bernie, I’ve found a parking space. Go and buy a car!”

That’s a smasher, isn’t it? A classic. It cracks me up every time. And that’s just one. I’ve got loads more when they came from. (Where did it come from? It may have been from inside a Xmas cracker, or, possibly from last week’s Purim party, where the jokes flowed like cava, and the cava flowed like... Well anyway, we had so much to drink, as is traditional for the festival of Purim, that jokes like the one above seemed hilarious, and everyone looked gorgeous).

Now if you’ve finished drying your eyes after that hilarious opening, let’s take a sober look at the shortage of parking spaces in our major cities, or, as is known in municipal circles, the council’s transport policy.
What exactly is parking? (A little too philosophical for this time of morning? Possibly. In that case, skip ahead to the joke at the end). Parking is a requirement (for those with cars), an irrelevance (for those without), a waste of space (for city planners), a cost (for everyone), and a subsidy (for tax-paying non-car-owners). I was once rung up by some market surveyor, and as an introduction to several mind-numbing questions, I was told that the subject would cover “Tel Aviv’s transport and parking policy”.
But parking is not transport, and it’s not a policy. Parking is a symptom of a lack of transport alternatives. We could just as well refer to the Ministry of Health and Burial of Operation Failures.
And yet many councils around the country, still stuck in the 1950s, believe the car is the answer to everything.

Today's riddle: How many parking spaces are there at Wembley Stadium? You know, Wembley, in North London, THE premier venue for football events and rock concerts too. The newly rebuilt stadium is state-of-the art, which means each seat has plenty of leg-room and there are umpteen toilets per person, so you should never have to wait long (bearing in mind that you'll be wanting to go at exactly the same time that several thousand other football fans want to go). It is England's national stadium, and the second largest in Europe. Seating and standing together, the stadium can hold 105,000 spectators. So, back to today's riddle, how many parking spaces are there in Wembley Stadium's official car park?

Now whilst the right side of your brain is thinking that one out, let's see what Tel Aviv has recently done for its residents. To great fanfare, the council sent to me (paid for by my money) a leaflet with an achingly funny title “I came, I saw, I parked”. It lists all the latest changes that will make parking easier. I can now park in several more official car parks at night for free, and at others at a whopping 75% discount. It lists similar benefits and perks for the car-owner. If only my council spent as much time, effort, money, thought, care and loving attention on the non-car owner, on those that use alternative means of transport!
On the contrary, it is practically the aim of the council to encourage us all to have cars.
Have you heard the one about... (no, sorry, I was going to tell a joke, but it would have been quite inappropriate)... have you heard about what’s known in Hebrew as תקן חניה (teken chaniya) or “the parking standard”? Basically it’s a requirement when you plan to build a house, an office block, or whatever, that the plans must include sufficient car parking spaces. Or else you don’t get the building permit.
Who determines what is “sufficient?” Good question, my blogfans, you are on the ball this morning. Who indeed?
One friend had a house built in some small town near Jerusalem, and it included a drive with one parking space. The council rejected this. He would have to include two parking spaces to get the permit.
David Azrieli, a seasoned Canadian businessman and mall owner, designed the towers (named after him) in downtown Tel Aviv. He chose the location well, at a transport hub, on top of the Hashalom train station. The original plans included a car park with plenty of spaces. The council (an unseasoned business operator and non-mall owner) told him the car park was too small, and he had to add several hundred more spaces to get his building permit.

Room for one more? Photo: parkinglotss.com

So are you getting the picture? If the government and local authorities spent as much time, money, and thought, on public transport as they do struggling to find more car parking spaces, we could, by now, have had a public transport system comparable to the best in the world. Then maybe we could dispense with the cars, and not even need the parking.
Wembley Stadium, if you were still thinking about it, is well served by London's transport system. It is accessible from three stations, served by three Underground rail lines, two overground lines, and a national rail link. More than 7 bus routes stop in the vicinity. And which is why Wembley, the rebuilt stadium, opened in 2007, has no official car park. It is, as they say on their website, a public transport destination.  

This is something up with which I shall not put

Which is the 57th highest ranked university in the world? Of course, we can all rattle off the top 35, but then it begins to get harder, doesn’t it? Well, the 57th top university is in fact the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Alumni (that’s Latin for "graduates") include Meir Shamgar, Sayed Kashua and Ada Yonath.
Now you're asking exactly what I asked too: How on earth do they rank a university? Is it by the quality of the sausage rolls served in the canteen? Or the fashionableness of the tassles on the caps of the post-graduates?
[Apparently it's based on how often their staff and alumni get articles published, and how many Nobel prizes they can snap up, if you really wanted to know.]
The Hebrew University held its ground-breaking ceremony way back in 1921. All the glitterati were there, all in their long coats, funny hats, round glasses, and inappropriate dress for the baking hot Middle East. Being in the inter-war period when Britain ran Palestine (as it was then) top Brits were invited too. Among these was the British Secretary of State for the Colonies, who had come out especially from London. He was an impeccably dressed, well-spoken young man, son of a British duke and an American socialite. His visit to the country made a very great impression on him. He was convinced that some modern miracle was in play, as the "children of the prophets," as he called them, made the deserts bloom and the modern state of Israel come into being.
Maybe he took something of the frontier spirit back with him to Britain. The young Secretary of State for the Colonies went on to further his political career, and, after switching parties, he became a cabinet minister and eventually Prime Minister. You may have heard of him. His name was Winston Churchill.
Inspired by him, some Israelis recently established the Churchill Society of Israel. Yes, only 91 years after his visit to the country, a society has been set up in Winston’s honour. Bear in mind that this is a country where 91 minutes after a visit from a Israeli cabinet minister, not even a folding chair would be set up in his honour. So that's some achievement. But then again, Winston was some man.

(Photo: Opening ceremony of the Hebrew University, 1925. Copyright 2009 www.middle-east-pictures.com)

The society, so it says on the packet, is to "foster leadership, vision and courage in Israeli society through the promotion of Winston Churchill's thoughts, words, and deeds." Apparently the tenets of Churchill's life--freedom, democracy, responsibility and Western civilization--are shared by society in Israel, though they could do with a gentle nudge now and again, which is where the society hopes to come into play.
But before they go swanning round the county teaching Israeli children how important it is to smoke cigars, throw themselves into wars fought half away across the globe, and try to get themselves captured for the sake of good copy, maybe we could draw some other significant lessons from Churchill's life.
Pay up or I'll…
When Churchill first became a member of parliament in 1900, politicians’ pay was zero. That's it, nothing. Bubkes. Bear in mind that Britain was arguably the richest nation in the world, and at the time, teachers in Britain were earning about £150 a year.
Let's compare that to our members of Knesset. A fresh, inexperienced politician in Israel today receives a monthly salary of NIS 36,000, that's over four times the average wage, which may be why they cannot begin to comprehend what crosses the minds of the ordinary taxpayer.
A little aside for a rainy day…
Churchill was prime minister twice, retiring in 1955, after four years in his second stint. He was 81 by this time. So what pension did he get, the man widely regarded as the country’s finest statesman? Again, nothing. In fact to support him in his final years, his friends clubbed together, bought his home and let him live there (rent free, how jolly decent of them) until his death.
Now compare that to the fat pensions we pay our politicians, including former cabinet minister and disgraced former president, Moshe Katsav. Why don’t you send him a letter complaining? (Address: Maasiyahu Prison, Ramla, Israel).
Defeated, but not down  
Israel does not have a constituency-based electoral system, and so politicians need only bribe, sorry, network within their own party to ensure a "safe" position on the party list. They then sit back and let the party stand or fall. There is no concept of personal responsibility.
Now look at Churchill’s example of personal responsibility and tenacity. As a youth, he failed to get accepted into Harrow school, twice. When he first stood for parliament in 1899, he lost. When he finally won, and still a sitting politician, his own local party deselected him (in other words, his own party told him they’d chosen a different candidate for that constituency at the next election).
He found another constituency, Dundee, but again, in 1922, he failed to be chosen as his party’s candidate.
He stood for parliament in Leicester. He failed.
He never gave up. Eventually he climbed up through all the political ranks until finally making it to Prime Minister. But in 1945, after the Second World War, he lost the election.
It is an incredible story of a man’s career. And yet in Israel a politician is never required to stand for an election based on the individual. It is the political party that carries the can. Knesset lacks outstanding parliamentarians and statesmen, maybe because they are not required to undergo personal scrutiny or constituency-based elections.
In the words of Winston Churchill (referring to the oddity of ending a sentence with a preposition), this is something up with which I shall not put.

Hain’t we got all the fools in town on our side?

The three-day country-wide strike came to an end and all sides seemed happy. It was an historic achievement. It had highlighted solidarity of “strong workers with the weak” (quote by Histadrut Labor Federation chairman Ofer Eini), while the Finance Minister Yuval Steinitz had demonstrated “social sensitivity” (Eini, again) in the all-night discussions. The cost may ultimately have been great “but we are happy to pay it”, said Steinitz at the press conference. Smiles all round. I came over so warm and cuddly, I almost plotzed.

But could you, in no more than three rhyming couplets, tell me what the strike was about or what it actually achieved?

It was all about workers at the bottom of the rung, one could say; subcontracted workers. These are the ones that an employer (bank, government ministry, hospital, factory, even school, hostel, nursing facility) employs, instead of a permanent, fixed employee, because it’s simply cheaper for them. The employer approaches an employment agency, and in piecemeal fashion, asks for "Two nurses for three months, please. With chips, and go easy on the mayo."
This is becoming more and more prevalent throughout the country. Their pay is usually lower than those they work alongside. They do not enjoy job security. Their employers (technically, the manpower agencies) do not normally offer them pensions, nor other employment benefits, such as end-of-year bonuses or holiday gifts, or contributions to hishtalmut funds (tax-free employer saving plans).
And union boss Eini took advantage of fairly widespread sympathy for such workers when he rallied his troops, and shut the country down. He drew up a list of demands, which he'd only thought of last Tuesday though the trend of outsourcing has been growing for years. He called for scrapping the whole idea of subcontracted workers, bringing them into the permanent worker fold, and most importantly, he demanded they all be given the same gifts that their permanent work colleagues get every Rosh Hashana (New Year) and Pesach (Passover). Finance Minister Steinitz refused to accede to these demands. So the strike began.
There were no trains; there were no ships coming in or out of the country, in an economy that relies almost entirely on shipping for its exports and imports as we don't go in for much trade with our immediate neighbours for some reason, I can't for the moment remember why; mountains of uncollected rubbish piled up in the streets; Ben Gurion Airport froze all take-offs for one morning; and ATMs began to run out of cash (bank workers, bless their little cotton socks, came out in sympathy too).
The routine of millions was disrupted. Journeys were canceled. The cost to the economy was enormous.
It took two days and a marathon all-night session, until agreement was reached. By Sunday morning the strike was over, all sides were delighted. Eini praised the public for understanding that it was all for "social justice".

(Photo: nrg Maariv)

What tosh and bunkum.

Eini has a dream.
He has a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of the Histadrut's creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all public sector workers [but only public sector workers] are created equal." The labor federation in Israel, rather than rising historically from the downtrodden poor workers of society, is all about maintaining the incredibly cushy number of those in the public sector, who enjoy tenure (you can never sack them), salaries in excess of their true worth, and who look forward to bloated and, in some cases, "free" [i.e. non-contributory] pensions. The more workers he can get to join those sullied ranks, the stronger his position.
While the final agreement saw barely 600 subcontracted workers become permanent staffers, many more will find their wages and benefits linked to those in the public sector. And linkage is vitally important. If thousands of workers have terms of employment that are connected in some way to the sector that Eini controls, then this is all that matters.
So what happened to the poorly paid cleaners and security guards and bank tellers in the private sector? Well, yes, they’re sort of vaguely mentioned in the agreement. But please stop trying to change the subject.
Interestingly one of the “major” points was that the government agreed to employ a further 150 inspectors to ensure that the laws on subcontracted workers are enforced. How surreal. The public sector goes on strike to force the government to agree to enforce its own laws! Whatever next? Children going on strike to force their parents to feed them more green vegetables and less of the ice cream and chocolate, if you please?

A word about Steinitz, who caved in after two days, welcoming the extra cost of millions to the public purse: “Israel is the only country in the west that is making such a reparation, strengthening the weakest workers at this time.”
He should take a closer look at Greece. Despite violent protests, thousands on strike, and incendiary street battles, the Greek parliament this week passed what it considered to be the necessary, painful medication for a very sick economy: It cut 300 billion euro from public pensions, and plans to lay off some 150,000 public sector workers.
But Steinitz and Eini can hold their heads up high, for they know that when the going gets tough, the tough know what really justifies an all-out strike. They can pat themselves on the back, declaring that several hundred subcontracted workers in Israel will, come next Pesach, get that all-important bottle of wine and large box of chocolates.

The shopping may have ended, but something lingers on...

What is it about the fresh produce markets of Israel that makes me go back there week after week, come rain or shine? Am I attached to the market by elastic, unable to completely cut myself off? Is it the freshness of the produce - chickens that were still having breakfast not half an hour before I arrived? Could it be the camaraderie, the same cheerful faces that greet me each week? Or is it the stallholders’ friendly banter, and their inexhaustible knowledge, evident as they freely dish out their well-tried recipes for ragu alla napoletana, or olive tapenade?
Well, I may be exaggerating, but you just can’t beat those markets: from the veteran Shuk Hacarmel, and Jerusalem’s ever popular Machane Yehuda, to the more ethnic Shuk Hatikva. Now Tel Aviv has a newcomer, Shuk Hanamal. It's indoors, clean and modern, European and nouveau-riche. Some could accuse it of being too faltzani (פלצני - pompous), a local take on the Boqueria in Barcelona.
But these markets are indeed wonderful. On busy days, they’re heaving, noisy, and fun--far more so than your antiseptic supermarkets--and, thanks to heavy tax and import restrictions, they mostly sell Israeli-grown fruit and veg, hence the seasonality. None of these all-year-round pineapples and artichokes that you find incongruously on sale in Sainsbury’s, mid-winter, on the edge of the Pennines. In Israeli markets, summer means a plethora of peaches, plums, mangoes and apricots, while winter abounds with grapefruits, oranges, tangerines and strawberries. You're as likely to come across a watermelon in winter in the market as you are to find someone saying "Oh, I'm ever so sorry for bumping into you".
(By the way strawberries are winter fruits in Israel; they’re summer fruits in England, don’t you know).
Shuk Hacarmel, the largest, has been going strong since the 1920s. Shuk Hatikva, recently and sensitively renovated, is more spacious, and more comfortable to stroll through, though I find it has a more limited variety of products. The new market in Namal Tel Aviv is another kettle of fish entirely. Or another tureen of boillabaisse, as they would probably say there. It’s a culinary journey through the hills of Tuscany, the vineyards of the Golan, and the smoking kilns of Scandinavia, bypassing most of the Gush Dan region, if at all possible. It smacks of European chic, and in a nutshell, is delightful. On Fridays it expands, and outside includes a Farmer’s Market too, offering a smorgasbord of organic produce at prices that would make you weep before you’ve even started peeling your onions.

So where’s the rub? I hear you ask, in Hamlet’s words. How can it be that I’ve got nothing but compliments to dish out in this post? Have I changed my medication? Am I in love? Have I been accepting unmarked brown envelopes from the city council? (Halevai! They know where I live, but I’m still waiting...)

The rub is plastic bags.
Yes, we in Israel are deluged by plastic bags. In a bustling outdoor market one sees literally thousands of plastic bags being bandied about, when the rest of the enlightened world has moved on, having become more attuned to their inherent dangers. Research undertaken at the Technion concluded that Israelis use 5 billion plastic bags a year. Five billion! I’m gobsmacked! (There, that should confuse the Americans among you. Go figure!). These bags are environmentally unfriendly, taking over 400 years to biodegrade, and they can endanger wildlife, particularly sea animals if dumped into the oceans. In some parts of the world, consumers are now more aware of such negative environmental impact, and have switched to biodegradable. Legislation and consumer action have had drastic effects, whilst here in backwater Israel, even in the ever-so-chic and high-tech city of Tel Aviv, one is still dependent on the omnipresent plastic. Surely one day these markets will wake up, and with an eye to the enlightened consumer, they’ll wrap up your purchases in yesterday’s newspapers.
I’m sure my local grocer considers me a recently arrived alien from Mars, as I invariably insist on not requiring a plastic bag with every purchase. I can quite easily carry the cornflakes and the milk home in my arms, thank you. He always smiles at me, amused. These English, he’s clearly thinking, they have the oddest behaviour, I wouldn’t be surprised if they add milk to their tea.