Gold for Israel

As Canada basks in the glory of having the most gold medals, I think about tiny Israel, whom only had three athletes completing in this winter's Olympics. I have come to realize that Israel has missed out on an great opportunity for guaranteed Olympic glory. Israel would clean up if they entered athletes into the Ski Cross. They have been inadvertently training the populace for years.

If you don't know what ski cross is, it is the newest Olympic sport where they send four people down an obstacle course of a hill at the same time and see who doesn't crash. You need speed, aggression, and very sharp elbows.

I think that Israel should strap a pair of skis on one of those little old ladies at the shook who drive their wheely carts like maniacs and elbow their way through the crowd ruthlessly. Those ladies would shamelessly send all the other competitors into the nets.

I can just see it. Little stooped over lady in a tweed skit and a cardigan, magenta hair flying in the wind, elbow out and cart trailing behind as she busts it down the ski hill.

Gold Medal for Israel!

Tossing and Turning

This weekend is an an ark weekend. Two days where it almost nonstop downpours and wave after wave of thunderstorms come through. It rains for so long and for so much that we are thankful we live on the fourth floor and start looking around for wood in the house to build an ark.

James is softly snoring in the next room since he was up at 2:30 to watch the men's hockey.

It took me a long time to get to sleep last night. For the last month, I have been working on a research proposal to send in my job application package. Two applications need to get sent out this spring. Resume, two page teaching philosophy, four reference letters and then the research proposal. At this point the proposal is eleven pages, three research projects, eight figures, fifty references, and many many holes.

Yesterday I had lunch with the Boss and a high powered speaker they had come in for a lecture series: a very big cheese from Cal Tech. He gave two talks this week, one on some pretty hard core nano-physics and the another on protein assays for cancer research. As well, he runs an additional lab in Singapore, is a single father of two, has more Science papers than I have fingers and toes, is on the board of a gazillian institutes, and has three companies. Very nice guy, very interesting guy, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

But I have to say, my little research, Hebrew lessons and my little blog seem woefully inadequate, not to mention my bite-sized research proposals. The funny thing is, after talking to the boss alone after lunch, I get the impression he felt woefully inadequate too.

At lunch, I point blank asked the big cheese for sage advice on job applications, and I got a lot of advice, right after he said that last year was the worst hiring year he had ever seen. One of the pieces of solid advice I got for these tough economic times was to explicitly list the existing facilities in each school I can use. That way, they don't have to worry about my research needing a huge start up grant. And furthermore, I need to subtly suggest in my cover letter what times I will be back in North America, i.e. I will pay to get my own butt over for an interview.

Needless to say, my night was spent worrying about my ideas, not thinking they are good enough or big enough, and then stopping those thoughts and thinking they are really strong and appropriate for starting out.

Should I take out the one idea that requires a lot of access to extra equipment? Nah, it is at the end, no one will read it anyway. There are lots of solid ideas before that in the proposal that don't require that extra equipment. That little thing won't kill me.

Then I was thinking well heck, there are no jobs anyway.

But then remembered there are two positions in nano open in Canada right now.

And the boss seems to have confidence in my future.

Then I was thinking they must be getting a heap of applications, I had better make sure my package is good.

It would make things better if my paper got published in a high power journal.

I wonder if my paper will get accepted.
God, I hope it gets accepted.
No, don't get your hopes up. You know it isn't good enough.
Why haven't we heard yet?

But it did get past the editor.

But a high power paper isn't the only thing, I have to have a good research proposal.

My proposals are really good.

My proposals suck.

I am never going to get a job.

I am never going to be able to afford children.

But then I hear my mom's voice reminding me it will all work out, it always does.

Purim 2010: One for the Lab Mice

On Sunday night and Monday is Purim, the Jewish holiday where you are supposed to get dressed up in a costume head out to one of the many parties. And if you are a religious guy, it is a Mitzvah (good deed) to go get sloshed on the bad Israeli kosher plonk. Actually, if you live outside of Jerusalem, purim starts Saturday night and goes though Sunday. It is a long confusing story as to why the dates are different, but trust me, a few folks won't be coming to work on either day. Even if they are from outside the city, they will be nursing hangovers on Monday.
Just like Halowee'en, the festivities are starting a few days early, so people got dressed up today for work. James' labmate, Sigi, had a small idea a few weeks back to dress up like a lab mouse for Purim. Then she suggested it to someone else, and then the whole thing got completely out of control. Over forty people from the chemistry department were dressed up like lab mice, including some distinguished professors.


My lab was not so cool as to all dress up like lab mice. I gave group meeting this morning and presented my research from the last year and a half. After it was done, instead of putting up the traditional acknowledgements page with the way-out-of-date group photo, I popped up a slide with the word "smile" and took their photo.

See? Don't they look happy that my boring chemistry talk is finally over?

Because it was only to my labmates, I did not mince words in my talk about the six months of straight failure I had over last summer. I tried to do it with levity, but with some thoroughness since there truly is a lot to be learned from failure and these things almost never end up in papers. After the talk was over, the boss used me as an example saying something about perseverance, yada yada yada. "And she always kept her spirits up!" he said.

I just smiled on the outside, but inside my head, I thought about the hugs of encouragement I got from James thrice daily: before work, at lunch and after work. And I thought about the chocolate bars and icecream that David and Costi have fed me when they noticed I was about to explode. They only way I "kept my spirits up" was because I had friends and family to keep them up.
But what the boss doesn't know, won't hurt him.

Good to know, good to know.

Think back, waaaaay back to your high school French classes. You may vaguely remember that after finishing a meal you say "J'ai fini" (I have finished) rather than "Je suis fini" (I am finished) since the latter means that you are dead, or almost so. Screwing this up has led to some funny conversations with the waitress at my favorite bacon and eggs diner in Montreal.

Well, Hebrew also has a few of these fun translation problems as The Chicken found out last night when he returned to the lab with a sample from the NMR machine.
"Gamarti eem ha NMR" (I am finished with the NMR) he said to his labmate, Michal, whom was next in line for the machine.

She gave him a funny look, giggled, and said, "James, you must not say this. You must say 'Siyamti eem ha NMR.' (I am done with the NMR) What you say means you had orgasm."

We all know The Chicken loves organic chemistry, just not THAT much.

Springtime

It is springtime in Jerusalem and the Valley of the Cross, which we walk though daily, is all verdant green and full of wild flowers. I can hardly believe it was so brown for so long.

Mystery fruit 15: The Carob Bean

Ehud was spreading a thick layer of this mystery brown spread on his toast a few weeks ago in the group kitchenette. I though it might be a dangerously thick layer of marmite but he informed me that it was carob paste. He also told me that carob beans can be used as a substitute for chocolate. Woah, woah, woah, buddy. There is NO such thing as a substitute for chocolate. This statement alone made me skeptical of the brown bean.

Apparently, carob trees are everywhere and you can pick the beans for free off branches hanging out on to the street from the neighbours' yards when they are all brown and dried up. However, I once spent some quality time with my sister in Tennessee picking up the nasty smelling beans of the honey locust tree which look very similar, so I was reluctant to start chewing on street beans. So when I saw carob beans in the grocery store with a label on them, I bought a couple for us to try.

Eating a carob bean is a lot like gnawing on a tough piece of beef jerky. But instead of the smoked-meat-candy flavour, my taste buds were besieged by the overwhelming flavour of dates mixed with grain. I was suddenly struck by the dusty memory of playing in the grain silo at the farm. But with dates. Very odd. The Chicken complacently chewed all of his, but I had to spit mine out.

Chocolate substitute, my foot.

Pancake Tuesday!

Today, The Chicken and I got up really early and made a double batch of pancakes for our labmates in celebration of Pancake Tuesday. We also had to drop by a store on the way to work to pick up a little bottle of 100% Canadian Grade A Maple Syrup which we noticed was for sale a while ago.

The real MacD maple syrup that my parents make is sacred, not to be wasted on the mapley unrefined Israeli taste buds. Plus, my family uses a little we bag of pork fat hanging over the kettles to keep them from bubbling over, so about 1/3 of my labmates wouldn't eat MacD maple syrup anyway.

Although they happily gobbled up the pancakes, the locals were a little confused. "What is Pancake Tuesday? Can we have Steak Thursday?" I was asked.

Abu Gosh

On Saturday we headed to Abu Gosh, a little town only 15 km or so from the city. We went with Max and Noa whom we know though our Ulpan classes. It seemed like the whole country was out having a picnic in the near by national forest reserve since the day was sunny and warm. Furthermore all the spring flowers are out making the hills look idylic with wee yellow dasies, red poppy-like flowers and purple flowers that I have only seen before in florists. We went for a small hike to work up an appetite for Abu Gosh's other main attraction: Hummus.

Abu Gosh totes itself as the Hummus capital of Israel. We had lunch at a restaurant that is supposed to be number one and should not be confused with the hummus restaurant next door with the same name and claiming that they instead are number one.
Out in the street, men are directing you to their restaurant in a rushed hurried way. "Come come, my friend! Best Hummus in Israel! Sit here. This table for you! "
When they aren't hassling passers by, they are hassling each other: taunting, making faces and even calling each other liars. I hear a rumour that this hummus rivalry has gotten serious in the past. One of the hummus places burnt down mysteriously not that long ago. I let the taunting wash over me in a wave of little understood Arabic and Hebrew and enjoyed our table piled with plates of three types of hummus, pita, salads, pickles, eggplant, french fries, stuffed grape leaves and stuffed peppers.

People come from all over to eat the Hummus of Abu Gosh, especially on a sunny Shabbat. The place was so packed that even at the odd hour of 3:30 pm, if you weren't chewing you got kicked out to make room for the next party. I think the picture sums up the whole scene nicely. People mulling outside waiting for a table. Man on left trying to entice people to HIS restaurant. Two restaurants next door to each other both claiming to be number 1. The only thing missing from the pic is the ten year old waiting tables like the was born with a plate of fresh pitas in his hand.

I ate so much that all I could do when I got home was curl up in a little ball and sleep. I didn't get hungry again until this morning.

Sorry about the delay folks

It has been a bit of a crazy week.

I spent most of it at a conference, conveniently located a five minute walk from my apartment. It was all about quantum dot sensitized soar cells, and after listening to three days on the state of the art, I have decided this field is a complete mess. Asaf wisely reminded me that this only means there are great opportunities. I hope he is right since I am getting a nudged in that direction.

Every night I was out till late, either schmoozing with the scientists or at Ulpan. As a result, my pants fit a little tighter and I gained the cold that James had last weekend.

Today's goal is to drink copious amounts of apple juice mixed in with the odd neocitron, sleep as much as possible and get this cold over with. As long as I don't have a fever, we are planning a wee hiking and hummus tasting excursion to Abu Gosh tomorrow with Max, the ulpan attending Welshman, and his girlfriend Noa, Israeli and survivor of crazy articling placement.

Getting my head and hat on straight

A few weeks ago in Hebrew class we watched- as a treat- an Israeli movie called Bonjour Monsieur Shlomi. It was about a teenage boy who has a crazy family and everyone thinks he is an idiot but he is actually a dyslexic math genius. It is a odd little coming of age story. I give it a solid B grade. There is a little swearing and some funny crude comments by his crass older brother, and yes, there is some depiction of teenage sexuality complete with nipples.

A very sweet lady in our ulpan from Missouri was about to get up and leave after the first set of comments about the brother's "attributes." With an embarrassed laugh she said "OK that is enough for me" and grabbed her books. Our teacher, assured her that the bad stuff was over. But it wasn't, and before long, this nice lady, who works for the baptist interfaith centre, got up and left. Everyone has their own limits to what is acceptable in movies and this clearly was well past her limit of sexuality, especially teenage, unmarried sexuality. I felt bad that she was told that the bad stuff was over and it wasn't. I chalk it up to our teacher not really understanding what was so offensive about the movie to an evangelical christian.

This story probably doesn't seem all that surprising to you. But the shocker for me was who didn't leave. Of all the students in the class, she was the only one offended by the content of the movie. This included a scarf wearing muslim, and a black-kippa white-shirt wearing Jew.

So now that I have had a little kick in my ignorant pants, I can say that people need not be so afraid of others who wear their religion openly in their clothes. I think people sometimes fear religious clothing as representation of a movement of religious fundamentalization, a loss of rights and freedom of speech. From this anecdote, it seems the prevailing sentiments against Muslims in the world and orthodox Jews within Israel has it wrong. The anecdote seems to say that the people we most need to worry about would be western Christians wearing jeans and a tee-shirt.

I am not saying that scary fundamentalist movements in Islam, Judaism or in Christianity don't exist, but I am saying that if we are taught to not judge a book by its cover, we should not judge a person by their head covering.

The Game Goes On!

I got an email forwarded to me from the Boss this morning starting with his comment "The game goes on!"
Below was notice that, miracle of miracles, my paper has made it past the Editor and has been sent out for peer review!

Woo Hooo!

Mazel tov to Michal and Itai!

The chicken and I got gussied up for another wedding last night. Michal and Itai are now a happily married couple and now that the hooplah of the chuppa is past, they are eagerly awaiting the beginning of their honeymoon to Japan. Michal excitedly told me me she is "going to be so fat!" from eating sushi the whole trip.

They had a Yemenite Rabbi with a great tall bowler hat do the chuppa. I was excited because I understood a bunch of the words this time, but suddenly I didn't understand anything. I was getting pretty disheartened about my Hebrew skills when Ophir whispered that it was a Yemenite prayer and he didn't understand any of it either.

In Hebrew, to live like two doves is to live closely and happily in marital bliss for ever and ever, Amen. In the James and Janet version, we live like two chickens in a coop, but that is besides the point. The Rabbi opened the chuppa by telling a story of a young couple who returned home from their wedding to find two doves sitting on their kitchen table. They went to the Rabbi and said "Rabbi, we came home from the chuppa and found tow doves on our kitchen table. What does this mean?" The Rabbi though for a long time, looked a the bride and groom solemnly and replied, "I think it means you left you kitchen window open."

The venue was surrounded by orange and grapefruit trees. I was so excited to pick my own orange off the tree. James pointed out the irony of stealing fruit in Israel. "Forbidden fruit" he tisked. Of course, Benny and Cesar, with whom we were sharing a ride, are sometimes boys in men's bodies- especially after a few whiskeys- felt that my one stolen orange was not enough. And so we now have a whole bowl of forbidden fruit in our kitchen and I believe there are still more rolling around Ophir's trunk.