Living the American Dream

Spending time in Orange County, adjacent to Los Angeles, gives one a new perspective on life as it is lived by former Israelis in America. like all other ethnic groups, they tend to gather together in groups, associate socially with one another, speak their own language and maintain their traditional habits.

So although it came as something of a surprise to find that our son and his partner seem to associate almost entirely with former Israelis, what was even more surprising was to discover how varied their lives were. Some of them have done well, live in grand houses (interiors done by interior designers, everything in white), while others live in more modest apartments. These differences don’t stop them from associating with one another, and hosting one another ion the many and varied occasions that life in America, offers — especially if you’re a former Israeli. Whether it’s Thanksgiving or Chanukah, guests from abroad or just to have people round to view a film in one’s super-confortable viewing room (with a real popcorn machine on hand to serve guests), no opportunity to gather and make merry is missed.

I know that somewhere along the way work is done and a living gets to be made, but that seems merely incidental to the main concern, namely, getting together to chat in Hebrew, eat hummus, jakhnun and shakshuka, which are all available to be bought or homemade here, though of course on Thanksgiving, that truly American festival, the traditional fare is more or less universal.

Although they have left Israel for good, and made a success of their life in America, most of the Former Israelis we have met here still hanker for the country they have left, making frequent visits there to see family and friends, and even owning property there. Their children, whether born here or there, bear Israeli names, and I wonder how a child called Suf or Bar copes with the puzzled looks they doubtless encounter each time they have to give their name e.g., in Starbucks when ordering coffee). i know from our own experience how difficult it is for the average American to cope with my OH’s name, Yigal.

And apropos Starbucks, our daily breakfast experience has taught me that nothing beats their grilled cheese sandwich. But while there’s a lot to be said for the American way of life, i’m looking forward to being able to buy fresh bread and challah from the Angel bakery in Jerusalem. and of course to being back together with my friends and family in Israel.

California Dreaming

From Dorothea's Desktop

Coming to the U.S.A. from Israel (or Europe, come to that) one of the first things that strikes you is how big everything (and everyone) is. Well, in California, where i am just now, everything is even bigger. Not necessarily better, but definitely bigger

The roads and freeways are longer and wider, the vehicles that ride along them at breakneck speed are boader and longer, the car parks are larger (and you don’t have to squeeze into tiny spaces to make room for others). in fact one of the salient features on our car in Israel is that the wing mirrors fold away when the car is switched off. No need for any such frolicsome space-saving tricks here in good old California.

Despite dire predictions in the media, we did not find that the vast majority of Californians are obese or of immense proportions. One or two are, here and…

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California Dreaming

Coming to the U.S.A. from Israel (or Europe, come to that) one of the first things that strikes you is how big everything (and everyone) is. Well, in California, where i am just now, everything is even bigger. Not necessarily better, but definitely bigger

The roads and freeways are longer and wider, the vehicles that ride along them at breakneck speed are boader and longer, the car parks are larger (and you don’t have to squeeze into tiny spaces to make room for others). in fact one of the salient features on our car in Israel is that the wing mirrors fold away when the car is switched off. No need for any such frolicsome space-saving tricks here in good old California.

Despite dire predictions in the media, we did not find that the vast majority of Californians are obese or of immense proportions. One or two are, here and there, but I’d say no more than the average population in Israel. which, when I come to think about it is pretty amazing as wherever one goes to eat the food portions are huge, the drinks are five times the quantity of a ’regular’ cup or mug anywhere else in the world, and generous helpings are taken for granted. As we have neither a fridge nor a microwave in our (very spacious) hotel room, we have no alternative but to leave our excess food behind. If we were at home in Israel the leftovers would be packed up and taken home to be eaten at the next meal or two.

Generosity is the name of the game here. People are civil, hold doors ooen for one another, greet perfect strangers when they share an elevator, and are quick to help an old lady like myself to pick up any fallen item such as a bag or a purse. In a few days’ time there will be Thanksgiving, with its attendant Black Friday and Super Sunday wild shopping days followed by the run-up to Xmas shopping. Carols and Xmas songs are already pouring out of the sound systems in the various shoppping precincts, and we will do our best ro stay as far away from those places as is humanly possible.

Meanwhile, we are doing our best to enjoy the laid-back ambience of this part of the world, even though the weather is getting noticeably cooler, so that bathing in the sea is out of the question for anyone but the hardiest souls. Still, our visit yesterday to the justifiably renowned Getty museum was an inspiring experience, and there are still more delights to be explored.

But now the delights of the nearby outlets center await us, and we will make our way there anon, to see what bargains we can find.

A Silent Film by Mozart

A performance of ‘The Magic Flute’ in the evening led us to spend a day in Tel Aviv, enjoying the view of the sea from the restaurant on the sun-drenched promenade, partaking of the aesthetic delights on offer at the Tel Aviv Museum (including the delicious cakes in the coffee-shop there) and ending with a highly innovative performance of the opera.

That opera (or ‘Singspiel’ as it was originally called – a kind of hybrid between a musical and an opera) is one of the most popular and most often performed all over the world. Hence, it is very difficult to put on a production that is entirely fresh and novel. As a friend involved in the business of producing opera told us, they’re heartily sick of that particular opera. Luckily, we’re not in the business, so are still able to enjoy it. It’s true, everyone knows the music and the rather convoluted plot, but l haven’t yet tired of Mozart’s music and inventiveness.

The stage of the Tel Aviv Opera was occupied by a huge screen upon which animated patterns and images of various kinds were projected, while live singers either moved around at the front of the stage or seemed to be embedded at different points of the screen as they sang and emoted in accordance with the music and the plot. Having a live orchestra in the pit gave the occasion the sense of being at a ‘normal’ opera performance, with its added dimension of depth and intensity. Incidentally, this and all the other (and additional) performances in Tel Aviv were completely sold out.

The underlying concept of the production was that of the silent films of the 1920s (the name of the company that produced the animated segments on the screen is ‘1927’ – the year the first talking film, ‘The Jazz Singer,’ was shown). The character of Papageno, the hapless bird-catcher, was a clear imitation of Buster Keaton, with his idiosyncratic facial makeup, expressions, attire and general demeanour clearly echoing those of the actor who featured in many outstanding silent films of the 1920s and 1930s. The costumes and gestures of the other characters also echoed those evident in the films of that period.

As with those films, at times the action on the stage was accompanied by an interlude played on a solo piano (but always playing music composed by Mozart, albeit for other works), alongside captions on the screen summarising what would ‘normally’ be lengthy dialogues in German (or Czech, as was the case when we attended a performance in Prague some years ago). The fonts used for the dialogue differed in accordance with whoever was speaking, adding another dimension of humour and interest to what was going on.

The animation incorporated elements of fantasy as well as imaginative depictions of scenes and situations. Thus, Papageno was accompanied by an animation black cat, who turned out to play a (silent) part in the action, constituting another focal point of attention and, yes, you guessed, humour. Every action, thought, emotion or experience conveyed in the music and the narrative also found expression in the animation on the screen, at times in glorious technicolour, at others in stark black and white, introducing cultural elements and associations from a myriad of different (but relevant) contexts, but always imaginative, amusing and thought-provoking.

Elements from comic strips also found their way into the animation on the screen, so from time to time the audience was treated to such expressions as ;’Thwack!’ and “Ka-boom,’ using the fonts associated with those comic strips, to emphasize what was being depicted by the music and the singers.

Altogether, this production created something new and wonderful but still remained faithful to the original vision of Mozart and his lybricist Schikaneder or, as one of the animation team pronounced “What we’ve created is, in effect, a silent film by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”

Julius Matthias –Hope Reborn

The photo of American soldiers in front of the newly-liberated Eiffel Tower in the summer of 1944 forms the frontispiece of this book by Michelle Mazel, setting the scene for what is to follow.

Dr. Julius Matthias, the chief protagonist of Michelle Mazel’s previous book, has managed by the skin of his teeth to escape deportation by the Nazis from his hometown in Transylvania. His wife, who had refused his entreaties to leave the town together with him, was shot and killed by the invaders during the round-up of the Jews of the town. Many years before that Matthias had sent his grown-up children to France to study, and so, left on his own, he manages for many months to make his way on foot through the fields and forests of Europe, eventually reaching Geneva, where he has friends and a bank account.

Switzerland, relatively untouched by the war that has ravaged most of Europe, and is still being waged in parts of it, presents a stark contrast to the privations and dangers he has left behind. After a period of recuperation and restoration, during which he learns that his erstwhile mistress has died, leaving him a wealthy man, he decides to travel to Paris, hoping to meet up again with his children, from whom he has not heard for several years.

He resolves to make the journey by car, and at the last minute is persuaded by his friends and hosts to allow a young woman of their acquaintance to accompany him. On the way they encounter some Nazi soldiers who have been separated from their unit but still constitute a threat, and it is only the quick thinking and crack shot of his unknown companion that saves Dr. Matthias’ life. His companion does not give him much information about her past, but they soon establish a close relationship, so that when they reach Paris she is invited to stay with him in the spacious apartment of his friends there.

The rest of the book concerns Matthias’ efforts to trace his children, and especially his eldest daughter, Elisabeth, who had studied medicine in Paris and even worked there but of whom no trace could be found. France is gradually returning to normal after five years of German occupation during which to be a Jew meant to be subject to constant danger of arrest and deportation. How people, whether Jew or Gentile, managed to survive was partly a matter of luck, keeping a low profile, managing to live on the meager rations that were allocated, or profiting from the black market. Every individual Matthias encounters in his attempt to find his children has a story to tell, ranging from the elderly Jewish couple who are his generaous hosts in Paris to the Polish-Russian forgers who fabricate false documents as required, and the farmers in the village where he finds the young grandson of whose existence he had been unaware. Membership in the Resistance seems to have been all-pervasive – at least wmong those who had survived.

Meanwhile, Matthias and his travelling-companion, whom he now knows as Lily, have become lovers, and they begin to make plans for their future together. Matthias’ older sister, Anni, travels from America, where she has been living for many years, and helps him in his quest to find his children. Since this search is the crux of the novel, I won’t give the ending away by disclosing what ensues, but suffice it to say that the novel does an excellent job of describing the desolation and damage caused by the war that uprooted, exiled and murdered millions of people, severing bonds of friendship and family, causing untold misery and leaving behind a trail of broken lives.

Nevertheless, the book ends on a note of optimism, as lives are rebuilt and the hope of the establishment of a country where Jews might live in peace begins to emerge.