What makes a man?

Today I had answered for me that one great philosophical question of growing up. Seeing as I never had a father-son relationship myself, I can only imagine what my father taught my brother about what makes a man. I would like to think that he learned from Dad that a man is made of things like responsibility, loyalty, earnestness, and perhaps (especially in my family) an innate need to chainsaw things.

But today, I learned that instead a man is made of other, less abstract, more edible, things. This nugget of wisdom was imparted to me by the back of the hot dog bun bags, five of which are left over from last night's very successful BBQ.




According to the image, a man is made of milk, eggs, cheese, vegetables and, of course, a hot dog bun.

You may be wondering how I ended up with so many hot dog buns. Well, the Israelis never cease to amaze me with their nuttiness. I should have guessed that they would prefer to put their hot dogs in their beloved pitas, purchased for dipping in the ever present hummus, rather than the buns. Oh well, they thought The Chicken and I were strange for wearing hats when were were a bit chilled late in the evening. They thought that perhaps hats at night was "a Canadian thing."

We successfully fed about twenty-five people, with vegetarians and kosher folks thrown in the mix. Gabi's team won the quiz, clinching the win by successfully choosing the correct definition of a"skidoo."

The s'mores were a bit of a hit. Ido's girlfriend, as soon as I mentioned them, was at the BBQ ready to start roasting the marshmallows. Apparently she spent one summer as a camp counselor in the states. From the sounds of things, the s'mores were the best part of that summer for her.

The real rare treat was when Itzik unexpectedly pulled out his accordion from the trunk of his car. He once told me that years ago, he gave up a future as a professional player (no kidding) to pursue chemistry. This was the first time I had heard him play. I must admit, I didn't know any of the tunes, but I enjoyed it greatly all the same.

Food from Home

Even after a over a year and a half the grocery store in Jerusalem is still an adventure.

Last night we needed to stock up for today's BBQ and thought that serving Killer Spicy Canadian Caesars would be a great idea.

Tabasco? check!

Vodka given to us free by someone doing pre passover cleaning? check!

Celery? check!

Clamato? beeeep.
We knew it would be impossible to find (clams don't meet the scales, feathers or cloven hooves laws of kosher meat) and furthermore, the locals got these horrified grossed out faces when I told them what it was. So, tomato juice it is.

Celery Salt? beeeep.
We hunted through the six kinds of paprika, several zatar spices, something called Yemenite Hwaig Seasoning, the usual cloves and cinnamon, but did not find any celery salt. We did however find a spice that seemed appropriate for Canada Day, but we decided to pass over "Redness" due to its complete dodginess.

I guess they will be a weak imitation of Killer Spicy Canadian Caesars. We will change their name to Weak Less-than-Fantastic Israeli Caesars.

To further the theme of Canadian food, James opened up his birthday presents this morning. Since he never did tell me what he wanted, while I was home I went to the grocery store and stocked up on impossible-to-find treats and then spent part of last evening wrapping them each up in my old Hebrew homework: fajita seasoning, salt and vinegar popcorn seasoning (they only have regular and BBQ potato chips around here and popcorn seasoning is a genius second best to potato chips), and the piece de resistance: two boxes of Kraft Dinner.

I also bought him pajama bottoms, in his beloved blue, and he promptly put them on and started dancing and twinkle toeing around the apartment like a lead footed ballerina.

The PJ bottoms are a compromise. The Chicken owns an old pair of track pants that with their high waisted draw string closure and gathered cuffs, they would compliment any human body by turning it into into the shape of a potato. Since I don't think I can convince The Chicken to wear a James Bond style tux around the house, I will trade the PJ bottoms for the dirty, old track pants.

Happy Birthday Chicken.

Canada Day Invite

I thought I'd let you read my invitation for our Canada party since it is a big hit with the labmates who were suddenly dismayed by how bad their English was until they got to the second half of the email. Eyal told me the first word he had to look up was hosers (her pronounced it who-zers) and that he even used Google translator to figure out what the paragraph meant. By the way, if any of you are in town, feel free to drop by.

Howdy Hosers,

Next Thursday we'll be throwing a Bar-Bee-Que fer Canada day, eh? We'll be putting some tube steaks on the 'Q, roasting some s'mores, and making sure you folks know a little about The Great White North. The prizes will be more exiting than spinning donuts in the arena parking lot in a snow storm. The rest will be pot-luck, so break out your Auntie Edna's best butter tart recipe. Two hosers will need to bring the pop. It is BYOB (Bring Your Own Brewskies), but if you do you won't be getting on the snow machine after, eh? Respondez s'il vous plait, que nous voulons savoir comment des hot dogs d'acheter.

Did you understand that? In case you didn't here is a translation:

Hello Everyone,

Next Thursday, July 1, we are hosting a BBQ to celebrate Canada Day. We will supply the hot dogs, s'mores, and the famous Canada Day trivia quiz (with prizes!). Everyone should bring something to share (two people for the juice and soda). You can bring a beer or two for yourselves if you wish- but no drinking and driving. RSVP: which means, tell us if you are coming so we know how many hot dogs to get.

Let me know what you plan to bring.

Time: Thursday, after work (6:30pm)
Dress code: red and white or plaid (extra points for your team on the quiz for compliance)

Janet and James

"Real Winter"

Here is one for all you getting your toques out and ready for the season.

Siu's first days

For months I have been telling Siu Jerusalem is perfectly safe and that is never rains.
Sure enough, the day he gets here, there is the first rain in a month( but only ten minutes) and there are bad things going down in the old city. But these things blow over most of the time, and the old city is back to its usual self.

So Siu is off today for a most worthy endeavor: intentionally getting lost in the old city just to see where it takes you.

He arrived Sunday night and presented us with an entire suitcase full of halloween candy, salt and vinegar pringles, ketchup pringles, popcorn seasoning, coffee, halloween decorations, my long lost birthday present (collected set of Hamish MacBeth DVDs), and all sorts of treasures from the home land courtesy of my mom and Siu himself.

Two bags of mini coffee crisps. TWO whole bags!

I woke up the next morning to James tiptoeing over to the suitcase of yummyness, trying
to score some twizzlers before I woke up.

Janet 1, Travel Agent 0

Lately, I have been in short temper with my coworkers and my science. To boot,
the university is closed for the week along with the TEM, making chemistry difficult. And the guns and the security everywhere and the almost pathological fear of the neighbors have been grating on my nerves. I need a break.

So James and I decided to book a last minute trip to ANYWHERE- just not in the Middle East. After navigating a heap of Hebrew travel websites and visiting a travel agent who thinks Greece isn't in Europe, we settled on a sweet internet deal to Crete for five days.

With the help of a trusty Hebrew-speaking lab mate, Itai, who read to me all the fine print, I booked the trip this afternoon. Strangely along with my credit card number they wanted my nine digit "Identity Number" but being a Canuck, I don't have one so I put in my 9 digit student number. Itai, suggested that he call and tell them, out of courtesy, just to make sure everything goes though.

Travel agent lady gets worried and emails me a "form" to sign that she tells Itai only confirms that I will be returning to Israel with a foreign passport. The form shows up in my email in-box and I wisely translated it. At the very bottom it sneaks in something about a mystery "2.5% credit surcharge". One email and four phone calls later the Lady tells me I am charged extra because I have a foreign Visa Card.

Any other time I would have caved over the extra 23$, but in the last two weeks I have been in a constant bad mood and so I behaved out of character and proceeded to lash out with the full power of the thundercloud that has been hanging over my head.

I balk. We argue. She threatens to cancel my reservation. I tell her the policy is ridiculous and I say I'd like to cancel and hang up.

Two minutes later I get a phone call. The are not going to charge me the 2.5%.

For the first time ever, I called an Israeli's bluff and won.

Just when I am starting to get cranky enough to start negotiating like an Israeli, I am heading out of the country to get back my Canadainess. I relished in the victory all the walk home but it will be nice to get away for a bit so I can begin to recognize myself again.

Par-TAY time!

At 4pm yesterday, James hauled the BBQ down four flights of stairs and out to the nearby park to get ready for our Canada Day Party. I filled the waterballons and lugged the bucket of missiles out to the park. We had all of the necessary supplies in grocery bags and were rearing to go. At 4:15, a guy who runs the park pointed out that our BBQ was next to a large sign that had a picture of a flame with a big red bar across it (See pic of James at the grill).

Ooops. So we moved the BBQ to the sidewalk and set up everything else next to the see saw and slide. Of course, Costi and Danny had to try out the kiddie equipment. A grown man going down a slide never ceases to make me giggle. Assi and James let out their inner cave men and manned the fire and roasted the hotdogs to Neanderthal perfection. Unfortunately, my plan for s'mores was stopped by disturbingly well aimed water balloon by Ehud which landed directly in the last coals of the grill. Even Ehud was amazed by his own aim; he was doubled over in laughter, but I got the last laugh because I followed up with a purple ballon that gracefully lobbed though the air and broke in a spray of water at his feet.


Of course we had way more food than we needed. True to form, leftovers from a Israeli pot luck involve a metric tonne of hummus, a half a watermelon, delicious pastries that should be on the banned addictive substances list and about ten bottles of juice and pop.

For my birthday next week, my labmates presented me with an awesome two volume book of walking tours in Jerusalem. I am really stoked about this one. Our first adventure is planned for tomorrow morning.

For the past two weeks I have been thinking up some seriously diabolical questions for the Canada Day Quiz. I have posted them to see if you can beat the Israelis. The teams did not bad, but after they listed Alannis Morisette, Celine Dion, Bon Jovi and Pet Shop Boys on the list of Canadian musicians, I feel it is now my responsibility to include musical as well as chemical mentoring into part of my lab duties. Here are the questions with the teams' answers for your amusement at their expense:

1) Hebrew University is dotted with buildings built from money donated from the Bronfman family of Montreal. How did they make their money?
Team A: Alcohol Team B: Real Estate

2) About six weeks ago, Governor General Michaelle Jean visited a Northern Canadian town. She made international headlines for something she did there. What was it?
Team A: Eating a seal heart Team B: (uh, I can't remember what they said)

3) Name as many Prime Ministers that you can. Bonus points for knowing who the current one, the first one and extra bonus point for spelling the fist PM's name right.
Team A: Bob, George, Mike, Nick and MacKenzie King Team B: Stephen Harper

4) Name a city on Vancouver Island.
Team A: Vancouver City Team B: Vancouver City

5) Name as many provinces and territories that you can.
One team got six and the other got five

6) What is a toque? Hint: it is an article of clothing
Team A: Scarf and Mitts Team B: a traditional dress

7) This is related to Food: What is a double double?
Team A: Two Hotdogs Team B: (uh, I can't remember what they said)

8) What are loonies and twonies?
Team A: Cartoons Team B: (uh, I can't remember what they said)

9) Which of these is not city in Canada?
Medicine Hat, Lone Buck, Yellowknife, Whitehorse, Moose Jaw, Salmon Arm
Team A: Medicine Hat Team B: Yellowknife

10) What do the two red bands on the flag signify?
Team A: French and English Team B: The two coasts

11) MacKenzie King was Prime Minister five times from 1921-1948 and was the longest serving PM in the Commonwealth. Like many politicians he talked to people he trusted for personal reassurance. This included his mother and his dog named Pat. What was particularly weird about this situation?
Team A and B: They were dead

12) What is the national icon and is pictured on the 5 cent coin?
Team A: Moose Team B: a Duck

13) If Americans are called Yankees, English are called Brits, Israelis are called Sabraim, what are Canadians called?
Team A: Not Americans Team B: Polar Bears

14) What does it mean when a soldier wears a blue beret?
Team A: UN Team B: UN

15) A J-stroke is a maneuver belonging to what popular sport.
Racquetball, Hockey, Canoeing, Lacrosse, or Curling.
Team A: Hockey Team B: Canoeing

16) What is the Capital city of Canada?
Team A: Ottawa Team B: Ottawa

17) Name as many Canadian singers or bands that you can.
Team A: Celine Dion, Alanis Morisette, PetShop Boys Team B: Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, Nelly Furtado and Bon Jovi.

18) If you drove the whole length of the Trans-Canada Highway straight from Coast to Coast, with good weather conditions and obeying the speed limit, how many hours of driving is necessary?
Team A: 72 hrs Team B: 40 hrs

Canada Day

Although we are a day late, James and I are hosting a Canada Day/ James Birthday/ Janet's Birthday party for us and about 15 Israelis this afternoon. It is partially pot luck with James and I serving "tube steaks" and s'mores.

Poor James. He spent his birthday evening last night buying groceries for the party. The only consolation was going for pizza in the German Colony for dinner. Since the place is kosher, there was no meat other than tuna on the menu. James ordered a tasty pizza-pie with pineapple, mushroom and eggplanet. Yep, that is right. It said eggplanet on the menu.

As I was waiting for James to order at the counter, I shamelessly people watched. I counted 18 children under the age of ten in this crowded little pizza joint. Not to mention the daytime high was 37 yesterday so it was also wicked hot. There wasn't one scream, cry, whine or fight. It occurred to me that not only do Israelis excel at having children, they must be good at raising them too.

Vision

Here are some curious aspects about Israel:

1) Non religious funerals and burials have only been legal for about ten years and have only been offered in the last few.
2) A bill was tabled in the Knesset this month to allow secular marriages. It was voted down after the first reading. (This one really bothers me for some reason, and I had a religious wedding myself!)
3) In the last few Saturdays in Jerusalem, there have been nasty protests involving rocks, dirty diapers and water cannons. The issue: whether a parking lot near the old city can be open on Shabbat.

It appears to me that Israel is a deeply divided country especially amongst the Jewish majority within. There is an ongoing debate between moral responsibility, religious values and pragmatism that is polarizing the Jewish citizens into separate camps that seem to not be able to find middle ground. One on the things I have taken for granted is the separation of church and state as being something desirable. But here, the exact role of religion in politics has yet to be decided.

Fundamentally, the vision of what Israel should be is very diverse amongst its people. Should this be a religious Jewish state? Or should this be a western style democracy protecting all of the minorities? Is Israel more morally responsible for the people they occupy, or to keeping its citizens safe? Should government be religious? Secular? By becoming more secular would Israel just be giving in to the pressures of America? Why should Israel aim to be secular when many of the countries around it don't even pretend? And probably most importantly: did God give us this land or the UN?

I brought up these issues of secular marriage and funerals and parting lots because they matter to people. These issues get argued over and over seemingly without resolution because, silly as they seem, they define the vision and direction of the nation.

Especially in Jerusalem, the population is growing more and more black-hat-wearing due to increased birth rates and immigration. The battle between secular and religious populations is becoming more and more heated.

So when you hear about conflict between soldiers who need body guards from the settlers, or Haredi black-hats throwing diapers and rocks at police over a parking lot being open on Shabbat, the issue isn't the parking lot or that specific group of houses in the desert. The conflict results from lack of a overriding vision of what Israel should be. These minor issues, because they represent the bigger picture of religious vs secular and super-zionism vs pragmatism, are not only fought with media friendly violence, but with political economic and even reproductive enthusiasm.

I had this whole second half to this verbose post relating these ideas to Canada, but The Chicken poo-pooed it. He says people can draw their own conclusions. In a way, I agree. At the same time, his poo-pooing is full of poo, because I don't trust people to think like me and we all know I have never been normal. What is the point of a blog if I can't draw conclusions and ask people to read them? My big point was this: Canada looks completely put- together and refined compared to this pot of political craziness, but there are still issues in Canada's past, present and future that will continually shape what "Canada" is. In some ways we are no different than Israelis, just with less diaper throwing.

Happy Canada Day everyone.

Guest Post: A Canadian's Guide to Israeli Supermarkets

This morning the Chicken and I divided to conquer: me to the market and him to the grocery store. It must have been an eventful trip –Fridays are always a mad house at the supermarket– because he immediately wanted to write a post. How could I say no when he was planning diagrams? Diagrams, for goodness sake. Just so you know, he used Chemdraw for this so if anything happens to look like a benzene ring, there is a reason for it. Also, this explains the odd picture quality and I lack the savvy to make it better. If you click on the pics, you will get a slightly better copy.

Let me begin by telling you my favorite Canadian joke.

Q: How do you get 10 Canadians out of a pool?

A: Say “Excuse me, could everyone please get out of the pool?”

I guarantee you that getting 10 Israelis out of a pool would not be that easy. One of the big adjustments that North Americans have to make when they move to Israel is dealing with the fact that Israelis are not as programmed toward avoiding conflict as we are. I don’t know exactly why that is, but I suppose when you grow up in a country that has fought a number of major wars in the past few decades, the shouting matches and long arguments that are a not-uncommon sight over here probably don’t seem like such a big deal. Every week, this important difference between our two cultures gets hammered into my head when I visit our local supermarket in Rehavia, otherwise known as The War Zone.

Here’s a classic example of Canadian supermarket behavior. When a checkout line becomes too long, Canadians seem to instinctively create an L-shaped line (Figure 1). This way, they stay out of the way of people who are still pushing their grocery carts around, thereby avoiding having people be angry with them for blocking their way. It also minimizes the chances of actually having to interact with anyone while they’re in the grocery store.

Figure 2 shows a naïve attempt to put this strategy in action at an Israeli supermarket. The Canadian, feeling uncomfortable since he is at the end of a checkout line where he is blocking cart traffic, instinctively forms the L-shape in order to minimize any chance of unnecessary human interaction. Unfortunately, this conflict-minimizing behavior is not recognized by the largely Israeli clientele, who do not perceive the Canadian as actually being in line. As a result, the L-pattern is not established, leading to increasing isolation of the Canadian as a “nub” on the line. The result is frustration and anger on the part of the well-meaning Canadian.


The situation is eventually resolved by the inevitable appearance of a frustrated shopping-cart wielding individual who must “break-through” the check-out line (Figure 3). If he has positioned himself well however, the Canadian can then take advantage of this opportunity to sneak back into line. This has the effect of causing heaving sighs and grumbles from those who were formerly “ahead” of him in the line (Figure 4).


The net effect of all of this is that the situation is exactly the same as it would have been if they had just done it the Canadian way, except this way everyone gets to go home much more pissed off.

Stanley's Cup

Every morning when I get up, I check my email on James' computer. Inevitably waiting for me is some baseball webpage discussing the minutiae of the Dodgers line-up or the statistical chance of a hit deflecting off of the pitchers out stretched glove, arcing though the air directly into the hands of the third baseman, who tosses it to the second baseman who does a pirouette mid air to send it to the first baseman who catches the ball with his teeth for a triple out. (It happened once in '43 in a double header game between the Yankees and the Cubs!)

As you can imagine, I don't tolerate much baseball talk. Poor James in his desperation for baseball conversation has had to lower himself to discussing the Dodgers with a local dumpster cat. I have presented the photographic proof.



Hockey, on the other hand, I can occasionally tolerate and even enjoy. When we were coming though the T.O. airport recently, I happily sat down and watched the last period of a game. There is something very comforting about the sound of the announcers' Canadian accents, the whack of a slap shot, the thunk of a player against the boards and the woosh of skates against ice as a player makes a 180 degree turn.

Now that it is so freaking hot in Jerusalem, the thought of ice, sweet cool frozen ice, makes my eyelids sink to half mast and my mouth release a sigh of desire. And don't think it is the hockey players that are the object of my affection. Despite years in Hicksville, Ontario, I have never had a thing for the toothless wonders wearing pull up diapers over knee high socks.

But last night I actually had a dream about the Stanley Cup Finals. Sad but true.
So given that it is game seven of the Stanley Cup finals on Friday, and I am actually dreaming about it, I will be getting up at 5 am to watch the third period. So if you are watching the game, think of me bleary eyed and drinking instant coffee, rapturously watching the computer screen just to get in my little piece of home.

Clothing

When I was moving to Israel my brother's friend Avi, who had just returned from a stint in the Israeli Army, told me that Israelis are more conservative dressers than Canadians. I always considered myself a rather conservative dresser anyways so I wasn't worried. But it is TRUE! Israelis LOVE bland colours (white, navy, brown and black are the staples). Although I have seen some horrifically tight/animal print outfits on fashionistas downtown, they are not very common and in general the populous doesn't show as much skin as Canadians, and they like to wear far more clothing than the temperature calls for. I swear we saw a fur coat at 15 Celsius one day.

To wear my favorite pink shirt is a statement about my identity. "I AM BOLD! I AM NOT RELIGIOUS! I AM WESTERN! HEAR ME ROAR!" It cries out with enthusiasm.

I could blather on for hours about how clothing defines class and religious beliefs far more than any place I have ever heard of. A day in the old city is a great game of "Guess that Christian!" Armenian Monk? Catholic Nun? Coptic Priest? A walk on Shabbat is a display of all sorts of cool hats. Askanazi? Haredi? Reform? Secular? Hockey Fan? (I'll explain that in a later post). The Arab Quarter is a lesson in femininity. Women, completely covered except for their hands and faces are the most elegant looking people I have ever seen in their long tailored coats and fitted head coverings.

When traveling Israel, it is not worth putting anything in your suitcase that is above the knee. Sure there are lots of places you can wear those soccer shorts, but it is a pain when touriting far a day and find out you can't go in somewhere because you look like a tart for wearing a tank top. You may as well save the suitcase space and bring a pair of capris and a longish flowing skirt, some t-shirts and a light cardigan.

But this is the kicker. Where do you think I found the clothing issues are most restrictive when traveling? Look at the sign. Where do you think I took this picture?



a) At a kosher restaurant specializing in Ashkenazi food.
b) Recommended clothing posted outside a tour-guide place for seeing the Arab city of Acco.
c) In the door of an Orthodox church in the "new" part of Jerusalem.

To make you guess, I have posted the answer to the question in the comments section (click on the orange word "comments" below).

The Crowd we Pushed Through with our Groceries

On our walk to the Grocery store, Ulpan or the market, we walk past the Prime Minister’s house. We walk past traffic barricades, watch tower, countless cameras and half a dozen dudes wearing earpieces and carrying assault rifles. I always make an effort to say Shalom to those guys and have been known to wave and smile at the guy in the tower. We also walk past a tent dedicated to Gilad Shalit. There was a substantial crowd by the tent today with a carnival like excitement, complete with a decorated Volkswagen beetle, motorcycles and the media.

A few years ago, stationed near the border with Gaza, Shalit was kidnapped and scuttled across the border. Ever since then, there has been pressure on the Prime Minister to make a deal to get him back. The pressure has been increasing of late, since the government is about to change to a more conservative one and it is reaching the 1000 day mark since his kidnapping.

The latest rumour is that Israel has offered 1000 prisoners in exchange for this kid who wasn’t even anyone important. Just a regular soldier. Probably not long out of high school doing his army service like all of his friends. Although the pressure to have him released is mounting, there is also pressure from the families of fallen soldiers and victims of rocket fire from Gaza not to release any “killers.”

A Hamas big wig had this to say in January: “Shalit may have been wounded, and he may not have been. The subject no longer interests us. We are not interested in his well-being at all, and we are not giving him any special guard since he is as good as a cat or less.” Hamas is really good at talking smack.

So many things about this bother me. What does it say about how these two cultures value life? and martyrdom? How do they value the lives of each other? And then you have to ask the question, where and how did Israel get 1000 Palestinian prisoners? Who are these people? What are their stories? How did they become prisoners?

Is it a smart move for Israel to trade 1000 prisoners for one soldier? I fear this will only endanger soldiers more by setting a precedent for the value of a kidnapped soldier. Only a few weeks ago another cross-border kidnapping attempt was foiled.

I am so glad I was born in Canada and have lived a life without much violence. Of my ancestors who immigrated, we have been lucky that many of their old world conflicts have for the most part fizzled out. Irish Protestants get along with Irish Catholics. French and English bicker rather than brawl. We don’t ever want Canada to be in a situation like this one. I have decided I have something to say to all Canadian immigrants; please leave your baggage at the door. I know this is especially hard to say to someone that has been shot at or even maybe lost a child in a missile strike. But trust me. It is better in the long run.

I don’t know what will happen to Gilad Shalit. But I can tell you this: he is no longer just another unimportant soldier. This story has reacted iconic status.

Look up, look waaaaay up!

On our driving explorations of the Northern Golan, we visited the castle, or rather, fortress - not of The Friendly Giant, not of Nimrod of legend, but of Arabs defending trade routes from the Crusaders.

The falsely named "Nimrod's" fortress sits over 1000 m above the Sea of Galilee with a commanding view of the deep, green valley below. Although all of the structures have some level of damage by earthquakes, we happily spent over an hour exploring the complicated floor plans of the remaining standing structures. We even found a two-story circular staircase that seemed to lead into a dark abyss but instead rewarded our tentative and groping decent into the depths with nooks with slit windows for archers. Such was the architecture that I expected someone in full plate armor to come around the corner and I would have to defend my self with only my water-bottle as a sword and my back pack as a shield (The Chicken need not help- I never was the damsel in distress kind). The place was complete with moat even though the natural steepness of the hill would deter any invading army.



Sadly, Jerome the Giraffe did not poke his head though any of the windows to hear me read a story but I will be contented that I explored the castle with The Chicken. Unlike Rusty, James was not half in the bag at the time although we passed Israeli sightseers on the way out who were.

Smart guys, really smart.

So CUPE Ontairo- one of the biggest Unions out there, has decided that they are going to boycott Israeli academics. Regardless if you are pro Israel, pro Palestinian, or hanging out in the middle, if you think about it you will realize this is really stupid.

A “boycott…aimed at academic institutions and the institutional connections that exist between universities here and those in Israel” (courtesy of the CUPE website) is a really horrible way to promote peaceful resolution and was poorly thought out. Let’s sever communications with the movers and the thinkers of a country so we can convince them that our ideas are best! We all know that playing passive aggressive never works. My husband is either oblivious to the signals and/or is ignoring them. Countries are the same. Talk about misplaced good intentions.

CUPE Ontario members back boycott of Israeli Universities (CBC Link)

On top of the general stupidity, this is going to make job hunting for me really fun this year. If I get told that “the Union won’t let us hire you because you are Israeli academic”, you will see me in court. As in the Supreme Court, jerks.

Irsaeli Chemists and Hockey

Wow. Israeli chemists are just like Montreal Canadiens fans. Habs fans know what good hockey is and they want to see it. Israeli chemists know what good science is and they want to see it.

I just came back from a talk where if there was a tomato in the room, it would have been thrown. You may speculate that this was a response to an extraordinarily bad talk, but almost every talk I go to here is like that. Tough, tough, crowd. There is one prof who, I swear, has sharpened dentures for biting a hunk out of visiting speakers. They interrupt, ruin your scientific punch lines and even, that’s right, tell you in front of everyone that your research is based on “the greatest scientific failure of the last thirty years.” Ouch. And really, his talk wasn't that bad. Even the profs in my thesis defense were less aggressive. If I ever give a talk here, remind me to wear a Habs jersey and full hockey gear for protection.