Kosher golden arches

My recent visit was yet another typical taunt for my poor boyfriend, as I demanded to try or do things unique only for Israel. One thing on the list was to try my very own friendly neighborhood restaurant's kosher version... McDonald's.

Not all McDonald's restaurants are kosher in Israel. We actually had to search for one online. Before, I wouldn't have been able to tell a kosher and regular McDonald's apart (I actually hadn't seen one, there aren't that many around) but now finally after visiting one, the difference is obvious, of course: thou shall not cook a lamb in its mother's milk. Therefore, products containing dairy (special coffees, Sundaes etc.) and meat products are sold and served from two totally different counters. Naturally, meat and dairy need to be kept separate.

Only dairy products from this corner. For burgers, move little to the right.

 I had wondered before how they have chosen to tackle this problem in an all American fast food restaurant with non-kosher food. Maybe replacing regular milk with soy milk in the milkshake? It was nothing like this, though.

Even though the McDonald's in Israel had some interesting burgers on the menu that are not sold back home, I opted for a classic and ordered a Big Mac. And you know what, it tasted the same. Minus the cheese, of course. I'm lovin' it!

Looks the same, taste the same, cost the same. McDonald's stays true to its flavors.

My pink elephant

I am getting the feeling that in spite all the hospitality, friendliness, kindness and jokes together, being non-Jewish is a kind of a glass ceiling one can't break. Even with the risk of sounding ungrateful or defying the saying about not throwing stones in glass houses (with those glass ceilings), here goes anyway.

Being non-Jewish, you ultimately will be liked only to a certain extent. It doesn't mean you are hated or considered a bad person, but since you're not Jewish – you won't be taken for a ride for that extra mile. Shiksa/goy is a label you can't choose to take off. And it might not be obvious discrimination or a statement of opinion – or even anything that someone would say out loud. It is kind of like that pink elephant in the living room. Everyone knows it's there, but it might not be spoken of. Well, except by a blabber shiksa like myself.

I can't help but think if my surname ended in ”-ovich” or a maternal great grandmother would be discovered to be Jewish; that invisible barrier I can't break, the label I can't take off, would be removed for me. I would get an all access pass to the Jewish funfair. But alas, none of this will be happening. Well, what about that conversion thing then? For all the reasons stated in this text so far it would be like forfeiting and admitting that there is something wrong with you.

But that's the thing, there isn't. No one did anything wrong by being born non-Jewish (or vice versa for that matter). It is not a choice, but yet you are being judged according to it. It could be compared to the security check at any Israeli airport. They treat you in a sort of polite manner, but yet doubt, question and scan you, leaving you feeling uneasy and thinking what did I do wrong to deserve this. And the process will never go away if you keep visiting the land of Israel – no matter how many Israeli stamps in your passport, hamsa key rings or I heart Israel t-shirt with blinking neon lights in your suitcase. Or no matter how nice, funny and smart you are as a person. You're always the usual suspect. You didn't do anything wrong; it's just the way it is and will be: at the airport, outside the airport.

So, the pink elephant is there, your presence in social media is denied and your existence is never revealed to certain relatives or friends. Those who say that this sort of situation is not really a problem, are lying. There's obviously something to be hidden, and it may not be you as a person - but the fact that you are not an "-ovich". I am not writing this to demonstrate that I am desperate to join the haim-mile club. No, but the whole setup is very sad and hard not to take, well, personally. Feeling inadequate as a person for qualities in you that you can't help is quite a heavy baggage to carry if this status quo will persist in my life going forward.

Sometimes, I'm asking myself how it is in reverse. Did I ever encounter a situation where I'd need to hide or deny the fact that I have a Jewish boyfriend? Did my parents, family or friends ever consider it a constraint? So far, never. The only constraint that I can see is that we as a couple can never visit certain Arab countries, but this is not a problem caused by me, my country or my background. And sometimes I think if this is a European thing, where people are sticking to their national identity, language and colors of flag so strongly. Would it be different in the US for us, for instance? I wouldn't be Christian, Finnish or shiksa, he wouldn't be Israeli or Jew, but we'd be (after a long naturalization process and unlikely to happen anyway) just merry Americans?

I'm not asking to be considered kosher, I'd settle for being parve. But like the piggies and myself, we can't really help it. According to the Torah, according to the glass ceiling, pink elephant... we are what we are - can't chew this cud. And in a desperate search of a silver lining and somewhat of a positive ending to this text, I could say that at least I'm not an Arab or German. So it could be worse, no?

The Promise

I overheard a coffee break discussion at work the other day about a TV mini series called "The Promise"(Luvattu maa in Finnish, bad translation). The series had worked as an eye-opener for some of the people discussing it how the Jews in Israel are not as innocent as they appear to be. What was this series all about? Naturally, I had to check it out asap...

Since I had missed the TV airing times for the series, I was lucky to catch all the four episodes online at Yle Areena service (getting my tax money's worth). Warning for those who do not want spoilers, I advise you to stop reading now.

The plot seemed interesting at first... A young English girl named Erin travels to Israel to keep company for a friend who flies back to do her military service. Before this trip, Erin had found his grandfather's old diary from the days when he was stationed in Palestine during the British Mandate. Erin's visit to Israel starts all ooh-la-la-you've-got-villas-with-pools, shopping in swanky boutiques and dancing the night away in a huge, pulsating nightclub. As the story bounces back and forth between modern day (Erin) and the 1940s (the grandfather), shots from liberated concentration camps are shown and those who survived, how happily they arrived in Palestine - liberated, alive, in search for hope after the horrendousgenocide. You might think the series is a ploy from the Israeli government for good word-of-mouth. But then the story changes. The brother of Erin's friend shows up and he is pro-Palestine and starts showing her the other side of the coin.

What started as a seemingly positive story about Israel, quickly turns sour for the Jewish folks. The only "negative" thing about the Arabs/Palestinians portrayed is a suicide bomber attack in a cafe but the rest concentrates on how seemingly the majority of the Jews were members of Irgun (and therefore murderous, deceiving and just terrible people hungry for blood) and how the settlers spit and trash the Arab citizens of the country. While these might not be far-fetched, I'm sure all of Israel is not like this and most of them would be embarrassed of such things to begin with.

Erin's visit to Gaza was the anti-climax of the show, the character's unreal attempts to sympathize with the locals and chaining herself to a building to stop the destruction of it. Please, how naive. The conflict lies way deeper and the fact that Erin tried to solve it by clinging on to a young Palestinian girl (who was to be used as a human shield by the IDF) was just irritating.

The series, I'm guessing, is trying to be impartial and demonstrate the story through the Brits, Jews, Arabs, 1940s and modern time. Quoting the grandfather character from the end, at first he would have let the Jews have anything (after seeing the concentration camps) but now... he wasn't so sure anymore. A country born out of violence will live with the same violence until the (bitter?) end.

The whole conflict is sad, and probably most of the people in the area are not war-maniacs wishing for the blockages, bombings and rockets to continue. When things are prolonged and go on for a long time, societies and nations evolve and change, and the root of it all starts to get blurred. When you kill, it's terrorism? When we will, it is self-protection? Difficult questions that "The Promise" wasn't able to answer and probably didn't intend to do so, after all.

Picture borrowed from Wikipedia.

Holy Land, here I come!

Finally! At last – like Etta James would sing – I've got flights booked to Israel. This summer in Finland has been quite balmy to us near the Arctic Circle but I'm the kind of girl who needs minimum +28C to start wearing skirts and shorts to call it a real summer. To reach these degrees, we Northerners usually have no other choice but to hit the South. The temperatures in Tel Aviv seem to bounce nicely between +25C and +30something C, and I especially look forward to those warm evenings and nights when you don't need to carry a sweater and gloves with you "just in case it gets chilly".

I am quite prepared: got some shekels, sunscreen and Crocs waiting to hit the heat. I recently purchased my first-ever pair of Crocs even though I previously had sworn off those hideous clumsy plastic things. But then I was tipped off by a friend and I came across this pretty pair that swooned my picky feet - and we've been walking on air together ever since (love at first step). I've been told that Crocs are somewhat of a national attire in Israel so now I will fit in nicely!

I've never really experienced the lovely sea and beaches or the Dead Sea in Israel. The only swim I have taken there was a hasty dip in the Genesaret, so this time around I am hoping for more. Contemplating a swim means, though, daring the horrors of wearing a bikini... I'm thinking the mud at the Dead Sea would cover nicely all the screaming white, wobbly bits that I am not proud of, so maybe I should opt for that? Panic preparations for the bikini problems have started: I've booked an appointment for ultrasound fat removal procedure next Tuesday. And ran 2km last Tuesday. Desperate? Yes. Will it help? No. But there is no harm in trying is there...

I was determined to book the flights with Finnair in order to commemorate the fact they opened this seasonal route just this year when I'm in first need of this connection. Apparently it is quite a popular one as I could only get my return ticket with the familiar blue & white wings. To make things a tad more interesting, I've booked a kosher meal for my return flight. I am curious to see & taste how a Finnish airline goes kosher!

Need to struggle at work for a little more, and then I can call it a h-o-l-i-d-a-y!

Saving Private... Pictures

The IDF recruits - mainly the female ones - have made headlines a couple of times by posting seductive photos of themselves in little clothing accessorized with rifles in the social media. Usually these photos have lead to disciplinary measures in the army, but never-the-less the ladies manages to show another side of, ehm, army life.

Probably one of the world's most useless polls, but The Sun magazine decided to find out which country has the sexiest female soldiers. I could have sworn Israel would have won this due to to recent activity in SoMe, but surprisingly, it was Romania who took home the 1st prize. Israel placed 6th, Finland 8th.

IDF's finest...

www.mirror.co.uk

...and a more humble Finn wearing "cucumber salad".

www.puolustusvoimat.fi

As you probably might know, military service is compulsory for both guys and girls in Israel. And we're not talking about a few months here. At its lowest, you can be done with your service in Finland in mere 165 days. In Israel, guys need to prepare for 3 years and girls for 2. This for teens finishing their high school might seem like an eternity. Finns at that age would be planning gap years and what not, while their Israeli counterparts prepare to endure military life for longer than in many other countries.

I've often wondered how lucky I am in that sense that my local army is not at all interested in my services. In Finland, women are in no way obliged to do military service but can voluntarily join. However, before doing so they need to go through e.g. a medical check to get approval. I have no friends who would have gone through this trouble...

Klezmofobia

Not too long ago, I was visiting a store with my boyfriend that sells all sorts of (unnecessary) low-priced knickknacks for home, parties and what not. I went in to buy a card for a wedding but saw at the cashier a bargain for a CD. Klezmofobia - Kartushnik, it said on the album cover.

Klezmer music, I exclaimed my eyes beaming and quickly picked up a copy to have a closer look. My boyfriend was rolling his eyes and said it wasn't klezmer. "What about these songs then?", I continued insistently, "Verdamte oy vei, Schlomo Ben Avram, Yiddishe Mame... Sounds pretty klezmerish to me!".

And I was right (as usual,you know). After purchasing the CD, at home I finally got - or should I say heard - a glimpse of klezmer music for mere 4,00 EUR. Klezmofobia is a band originating from Denmark, and the group has been together since 2004. They have won various awards in the local country, and Kartushnik is their 3rd album.

I've been meaning to go to a klezmer music jamming session at a cafe in Helsinki for a long time now but something always got in the way. Now, there's a summer break but hopefully they will start up again in autumn.

A little is known about the history of klezmer music. It originates from the Eastern European Ashkenazi Jews, and has taken influence from e.g. Romanian folk music. In late 1800s and early 1900s, a lot of the Jewish immigrants in the US caused klezmer music to form a fusion with jazz.

To me personally, the clarinet is a typical cue that you're tuning into klezmer music. I like how catchy the music is - without knowing it, your tapping to the rhythm with your foot or fingers.

Tune in for Klezmofobia, the band here!

Photo borrowed from klezmofobia.dk

Oy vey what an oil!

My love affair with Moroccan Oil continues... Now I've finally acquired a bottle of this nectar for thirsty hair home. It is a pricey product (125ml bottle costs about 50,00 EUR), but nothing beats the sensation, smell and feeling of soft hair after applying this magic substance.

After checking some prices, getting this good stuff directly from the source is more affordable. A 200ml bottle in Israel would leave me around 40,00 EUR poorer - but still give me twice as much of the oil. Needless to say, next time around I won't be carrying olive oli home from Israel but Moroccan Oil!

Picture borrowed from http://aroundthewaycurls.com