mashdownbabylon

A Different Kind of Closet

In Walk on Water’s closing scene, we find Eyal walking up to a crib to care for a crying baby, in a house, which, as the camera traces his movements, is one he now shares on a kibbutz with Pia, his new German wife. Axel, however, is never very far away. Sitting down at his laptop with a cup of hot tea after pacifying his newborn child, blanket draped over his shoulders, a domesticated Eyal composes an email to Axel, in which he tells his brother-in-law of a fantasy he had about the two of them defying gravity by walking together across the Sea of Galilee.

Obviously, whatever feelings Eyal held for Axel have not only not gone away, but, more significantly have become a subject of acknowledgement, perhaps even dialogue, between the two men. As welcome as the remarkable changes the former Mossad agent has made to his life appear to certainly be, he is still clearly closeted. Settling down with the blonde haired and blue-eyed granddaughter of a Nazi on a kibbutz may represent a dramatic step forward. Nevertheless, it is Eyal’s unrequited desire for Pia’s brother that represents a yearning for something even greater.

Ideologically speaking, Walk on Water is anything but simple. Could Eyal’s inability to fully come out be a sexual metaphor for a future peace between Palestinians and Israelis that’s correspondingly incomplete? A two state as opposed to a one state solution, where Jews may have made their peace with Europe but not, quite fully, with the Palestinians? Fox is appropriately unclear, as his message should be. Nevertheless, sexual liberation, of the kind that Walk on Water embraces, has profound political corollaries that lie far beyond the liberation of desire.

-From IvU, Chapter 7

A (Sound) Installation!

A Canon (of Sorts)

Working feverishly on my next to final chapter, here's a brief list of the cultural product I'm presently fretting about:

Film

Walk on Water, directed by Eytan Fox (Israel, 2004/US, 2005)
Paradise Now, directed by Hany Abu-Assad (France/Israel/Palestine, 2005)
Munich, directed by Steven Spielberg (US, 2005)

Books

A Little Piece of Ground, by Elizabeth Laird (Macmillan, 2003/Haymarket, 2006)
Palestine, by Joe Sacco (Fantagraphics, 2001)

Music

Magnetic Storm, Smartut Kahol Lavan (CD-R, Boshet, Israel, 2005)
Discography, Dir Yassin ( LP, Alerta Antifascista, Germany, 2006)
Vote Hezbollah, Muslimgauze (Soleilmoon, 1993)

Local Knowledge

A discarded book found on the sidewalk two blocks south, in front of a pretty tough housing project the cops always seem to be raiding. Click on the image for more detail.

Two Weeks After the War

The waiters placed each course on the table without touching it, almost as though they feared coming into contact with the surface. Every time I would thank them for bringing us new dishes, or order an additional beverage for my English-speaking wife, their eyes would glance down at me without any trace of emotion, like they wanted our interactions to be as impersonal as possible.

Clearly, something was amiss. I could sense it in the stops and starts in my conversation with our friend, who, having heard that I was journalist, asked me about my work, only to be greeted by my father quietly signaling as though he’d prefer it if I wouldn’t. Obliging, I’d shift gears by pretending to have been surprised by a particularly tasty piece of food.

“In all my years of coming here,” I said, “I’ve never had such good parsley salad.”

- Excerpted from Israel vs Utopia, Chapter 8

Frigging in the Rigging

The commercial success of Christopher Hitchens' most recent book, God is Not Great, is generating a lot of interest abroad. Many people are asking whether, in the wake of Bush, and his combination of military violence and Evangelical piety, a new secularism is now formally in the making.

From this vantage point, though I absolutely support such an endeavor, I am not so certain that this is indeed the case. A lot of extremely overdue noise about the political need for secularism, yes, but a broad-based social movement in the US, I remain skeptical. At the moment, its just a cultural exercise.

In this article in the July 27th weekend edition of Maariv, Israel's largest-circulation daily, I was one of several folks journalist Vered Kellner spoke to about the issue. Though not frequently available in English, if you read Hebrew, Vered's thoughtful work is always worth catching up with.

Youth Are Getting Restless

Sheinkin Situationism, June 2007.

The New Jewish Left

Israel has become 'normalized' within Diaspora identity, (as it is for Israelis) even though the country may no longer be considered central to what it means to be religiously Jewish. From this context stems the freedom to adopt the progressive positions espoused by peace and justice oriented Israel advocacy organizations such as Brit Tzedek v'Shalom and Jewish Voice for Peace.

Along with this normalization of pro-Israel identity for Diaspora Jews has come an increasing unwillingness to refrain from criticizing the Jewish state. Where Diaspora critics of Israeli policies were once silenced by accusations that they were self-hating Jews, they now fight back by referencing the lively debate on the same policies in Israel itself. 

- Excerpted From "Everything Falls Apart", my contribution to the forthcoming anthology of new Jewish progressive writings, Righteous Indignation. (Jewish Lights, 2008.)

Watch Your Step

It's a minefield out there.

1980s version.

1960s edition.

Book Report

A short excerpt from "Changing Partners: America or Europe?", the fifth chapter of my forthcoming book, Israel vs Utopia:

To many Jews and Israelis, however ideologically inclined, the charge of colonialism became a symptom of a much larger European about face that expressed itself in a deepening of both east and western European relations with the Arab world, an increase in Muslim immigration to France and the United Kingdom, and the routinization of Europe as the number one foreign site of Palestinian revolutionary violence.

Transpiring to the backdrop of the previous decades’ final regional colonial divestitures by France and the United Kingdom, and Europe thus becomes the right-wing Jewish caricature that it is portrayed to be today: the primary breeding ground of “Islamo-left” anti-Semitism, irrefutable proof that outside of Israel, America is the only place a Jew can truly be safe, if not call, however uncomfortably, home.

Home(land) Security

As Vance put it, "This is going to make a great piece of album art." A multilingual home surveillance firm advert, found on the wall bordering my parents' driveway.

Jams: DAM: Dedication

Utopia, UK

“Okay now,” Miss Kennedy finally said, “I want you all to be quiet and begin introducing yourselves, starting with the front row.” A short, fat boy wearing a beige cashmere sweater, with a head of thick, black, comb-backed hair began. “My name is Ahmed,” he said in nearly flawless English, smiling. “I just moved here from Saudi Arabia.” Next up was the dark, pretty girl to his right. “My name is Farnaz,” she said. “And where are you from?” Miss Kennedy asked. “Iran,” Farnaz replied. “I just moved here too.”

And so, based on my survey of how many Middle Eastern–looking kids were in the room, it was clear that Miss Kennedy—a young, blonde and blue eyed teacher married to an American serviceman stationed in London — wanted us all to confess our countries of origin. Following Farnaz was a boy from Syria, followed by an Iraqi, another Iranian, a kid from Lebanon, a girl from Libya and finally, me. “Joel,” Miss Kennedy asked, staring at my nametag, “do you want to introduce yourself?”

An enormous silence fell over the room. I was terrified. I just could not issue a reply. Miss Kennedy stared at me with a concerned look on her face. “What’s the matter Joel,” she asked. “Has the cat got your tongue?” My classmates began to giggle. Finally, seeing fifteen curious faces staring intently at me, waiting for me to say something, I finally blustered “Hi, my name is Joel. I’m from Israel. Can I go to the bathroom, please?”

In retrospect, there was absolutely no reason to be nervous. None of us was older than eleven, and besides, no matter what kind of ideology you inculcate children with, as I discovered that year in London, it appeared as though all vestiges of the Middle East conflict seem to disappear through the classroom collaborations and the friendships we inevitably fell into.

- From my editor's column, Tikkun, September/October edition, 2005

The C in Schalit

Is it SH or SCH? Covering the ongoing case of captured Israeli soldier Gilad Schalit (pictured above) in today's New York Times, Isabel Kershner drops the C most commonly used in the spelling of his surname. As I kindly responded to a journalist friend who'd interviewed me last April (and had mispelled my last name in the same way in a recently published article), in Hebrew, there is no C in SCHALIT.

The SH sound is made by the letter SHIN. The C is a culturally Ashkenazi (specifically German) addition to the name's spelling.  A non-standard Hebrew surname ( derived from the word shlita, or ruler,) the C is frequently added to Schalit when it is written in the Latin alphabet. Thus, one may determine from this where the family that uses the name originally came from: central or eastern Europe.

According to my father, the Schalit side of Gilad's family is from Poland. Though he initially suspected that the name was adopted in Israel, apparently Schalit's uncle told Elie that the family name precedes immigration. Our family has also called itself Schalit for as long as anyone remembers. Though we originally hail from Italy, records show that our surname has almost always indulged the Ashkenazi C.

I, for one, have always felt plagued by the name. Not because I don't like it, but because of how often it's mispronounced by Americans. Frequently prone to enunciating it phonetically, (for example, SHALL-IT instead of SHAH-LEET) the one benefit of its media repetition (unfortunately, due to the Gilad Schalit case) has been that, on CNN and the BBC, reporters have almost always pronounced it the way Israelis do.

So, living in the US, for the first time, when I meet new people, they now tend to say my last name the right way. And, sadly, nearly always ask me if I am indeed related to the missing Israeli soldier. The answer, as I am wont to say, is no, but that our shared surname brings his family's pain much closer to home. Big up to the Galil Schalits, with the hope that their son will be returned soon.

 

Freeway of Love

The last of the Israel photographs. Negev tank firing range, as seen from the highway.
 

Uncomfortably Numb

It was early in the morning when the news of the suicide bombing in Hadera came in. A lone shahid had detonated himself in the open air market in town. Four people were listed as immediate casualties, with the death toll finally topping six two weeks later. I wondered if my parents could hear it from the confines of their house nearby. I imagined their living room windows shaking, reverbrations from the explosion piercing the treble-like clang of traffic on the coastal highway, much like how the sonic boom of a fighter plane infiltrates the physical structure of everything underneath it with its overwhelming, sub-bass frequencies.

It was an oddly fitting end to a work trip where politics was somehow always broadcasting itself from  the margins, like the perpetual ambient din of a street lamp at night, or the hum of an office computer that no one ever turns off. Such as when, on our first trip to Jerusalem together, driving along highway six, we saw the separation wall for the first time near Baka al Garbiyeh, and frankly, were not the least bit moved by it. For all of the remarkable injustice and stupidity  that this barrier clearly symbolized to us, we took notice of it, discussed its immorality, and drove on to our destination. 

-Diary fragment, November 2005

Ethnicity as Genre

Ben Gurion airport music shop, Tel Aviv.

Preoccupied Territories

Shoutout to the Border Police

On June 5th 1967, the Six Day War officially began. In less than a week's time, Israeli forces had wrested control of the Sinai peninsula from Egypt, the West Bank (including East Jerusalem) from Jordan, and the Golan Heights from Syria. Though Israel returned the Sinai to Egypt in 1982, and dismantled its settlements in Gaza two years ago, it continues to retain control of the West Bank and the Golan.

Dubbed the "Occupied Territories",  Israeli rule of these lands has had far reaching consequences for both their inhabitants and Israelis alike. On June 5th 2007, though I'd had no plans to formally mark the war's fourtieth anniversary, I found myself doing the exact opposite of what most Israeli Jews did that day: eating lunch at the home of a Christian Arab friend, in the Israeli town of Nazareth.

The meal began with a parsley salad, followed by a plate of lamb-filled lasagna. In between, the hostess served her own home made kubbeh, followed by a main course consisting of roast beef, baked potatoes and cheese. Desert was doled out in three stages: fresh fruit, followed by a cornmeal-based creme caramel, and finally, a mix of pistachio ice cream and lime sorbet.

Even though we all knew each other fairly well, for some reason, the atmosphere was somewhat tense. Long moments of silence were followed by intense, bilingual bursts of nervous conversation in Hebrew and English. Everything felt forced. In this context, the immense quantities of rich foods served their purpose, bludgeoning all of those in attendance with their heaviness.

It was only after the meal that talk turned to politics. Using Vance's presence as a pretext to discuss the situation in Iraq, our host expressed enormous frustration with US strategy in the region. Though I had little opportunity to overhear the specifics of his complaints, out of the corner of my eye, I could see our host's elbows jerking right and left, as he heatedly sought to articulate his concerns.

My attention, however, was focused on our hostess, who'd sat down next to me after serving us dessert. "This is for your wife," she said. Handing me a box of Christian Dior perfume, she told me how beautiful she found Jennifer, and how much she admired her short, bleached hair. "Your wife is very courageous to wear it like that," she said. "Please give her my warmest regards."

Military Psychedelia

The interior barrel of a 105 millimeter cannon, abandoned Magach series tank (M48-M60). Central Golan Heights, June 2007.

Recording the Border

A fence between Israel and Egypt, along highway 12, in the Eilat mountains. Standing nearby, we noticed that the wind was so strong that the razors on the barbed wire made clear, high pitched, percussive sounds.

Carefully placing microphones inside, we captured six minutes directly to disc. Listening back to the results after dinner last night, Vance joked, "Who would have ever thought that barbed wire had musical properties."

A Nation of Metaphors

Absorbing it all with Haaretz.

Its been well over a week since my last post. As much as I'd like to say that I didn't want to write an Israel blog because:

A. I don't like reading them
B. I'm not a tourist, I'm a citizen
C. I've been insanely busy
D. The email connection at home has been bad

I just haven't decided yet. Though all of the above is true, the fact is that I've been pondering what it'd mean to write it all up on the way back to SF, much as I used to do on these trips before the advent of blogs.

Nonetheless, I've broken down because the photograph above was simply too precious to ignore: My favorite Middle Eastern daily being used to mop up the contents of a spilled Heineken.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

June 1967: The endless remix.

California Orientalist

The mental health ploy had worked. She'd just gotten excused from her army service, and had come to the United States to go to art school. Standing in the kitchen of my old Richmond district apartment, K. [her pseudonym]  sampled two versions of hummus: one from Trader Joe's, the other from a local Armenian deli. "Oy, they're horrible," she exclaimed. "However hard they try, Americans cannot make hummus."

Thus, the perennial refrain of most Israelis living in the Bay Area. And its true. In nearly every instance, American hummus is consistently terrible. Either there's not enough tahina (or any), or for some reason, ingredients such as mayonnaise, cream and salt are present. Even the so-called 'organic' versions are offensive, oftentimes sporting vegetable flavorings. Imagine an exotic wheat paste sprinkled with paprika. That's what it tastes like.

Though my Israeli house guest is long gone from San Francisco (she now lives in NYC), we finally have a restaurant where the hummus is competitive with the best that the Middle East has to offer. As good as anything I've had at Yafo's Abu Hassan, or Akko's Hummus Said, this hole in the wall, run by several wonderful guys from Jerusalem, has made the Bay Area a better place to live.

Located in the heart of SF's Mission district, the unsurprisingly titled Old Jerusalem, serves another dish of equal significance: Salat Turki. A standard at most Israeli fast food places, try and find it in the US, and you'll be totally disappointed. Though its not listed on the menu, it is indeed available, and it absolutely kills. A fifteen minute walk from our house, Jennifer and I eat at OJ at least once a week.

"Never trust an Israeli's judgement of Arab food," a Kuwaiti graduate student friend once joked to me as we inhaled Turkish coffee together in Toronto. "They're all one-dimensional orientalists." I thought about these hilarious, stinging words as a Lebanese colleague of mine worked his way through the hummus the other night during an editorial meeting we held at the restaurant.

"Bloody hell," he blustered as he dipped a thick piece of pita into the hummus. "This stuff is so good, you'd think they started this place just for us."

He Loved Us, Too

My vinyl copy of Johnny Cash's now out of print 1969 account of his visit to the West Bank's holy sites. Briefly reissued by Harmony records in the late nineties, right after Cash died in 2003, I investigated licensing it on behalf of my former label. From what I recall, the cost would have been far too prohibitive.

Needless to say, this thirty-eight year old half-spoken word, half-sung recording of Johnny & June getting off in places like the Garden of Gethsemane is at its peak of cultural relevance. Christian, Zionist, basking in the significance of Israel's June '67 victory, The Holy Land is in serious need of a critical revival.

Back in Black

We're home. And already thinking about how we're going to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Brazilian espresso, anyone? Its absolutely wonderful, makes a first-class crema, and only costs eight dollars a pound.

Word up to my homey Ron, who shouted me out today about the WBAI show getting posted. For folks interested in listening, click here. An MP3 will load up immediately, courtesy of the always amazing Doug Henwood.

I just listened to the program over dinner, and was really surprised that the background noise didn't drown it the least bit out. Big up to the Bob Hope Airport intercom for being our friend.

On the Radio

On Thursday, May 3rd, I'll be a guest on Doug Henwood's weekly show on New York's WBAI, Behind the News. Christopher Hitchens is supposed to be on board too.

The subject will be the current fighting between right and left over Israel in the American Jewish community. If you're in the New York area, tune in between 5 and 6 PM.

Jerusalem Calling

CBS Records, 1967

With last week's news of Jennifer's grandmother's death, it seems as though all of the sudden, there's many places to travel. To LA on Wednesday, for Dorothy's funeral. And then to Manhattan, next Monday, for Jennifer to begin an impromptu six to eight week stay on behalf of her firm. If we can afford it, before the end of the month, I'll try and join her for a weekend.

All of this talk of traveling is also an important reminder that I am leaving for Israel at the end of this month, and have to start putting my own professional house in order. Flying out there together with Vance, we'll be spending two weeks conducting interviews and making field recordings for both my book, and our new album. My parents will, of course, be hosting us.

We'll be arriving a week before the 40th anniversary of the Six Day War, and the ensuing occupation. That will of course add its own hue to the proceedings. I've been giving much thought to how we might commemorate this occasion in audio format, by reviewing numerous old documentary LPs I have, commemorating such things as Israel's capture of east Jerusalem.

Part of me thinks it would be an interesting exercise to simply "cover" one of these records, like one would an older musical recording. Another option, of course, would be to make a facsimile, only with slight differences to indicate the 40 year change in time, as refracted through our own distinct political orientations. We'll see. Clearly, we have a lot of work to do.

Field Recordings

From an essay in progress

Turn to any progressive periodical in the United States today, and in all likelihood, you'll find at least one article about the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. From large circulation monthlies such as Z Magazine, and the American Prospect, to weeklies like The Nation and online dailies such as Counterpunch and Salon, reporting on the region tends to reflexively match events on the ground, either in the form of investigative articles or opinion editorials. 

Coverage of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict by America’s left press has traditionally focused on the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, and the plight of Palestinians living under Israeli military rule. This emphasis was sharpened during the course of the two intifadas (1987-1991 and 2000-2005) and the peace process of the 1990s, when settlement building actually increased, and the Israel Defense Forces inaugurated its policy of geographical bisections and closures in the 'territories.

Since the invasion of Iraq in March 2003, this area of coverage has expanded to include analyses of Israel’s relationship with the United States, with a specific emphasis on the role of the “Israel Lobby” in formulating US foreign policy towards the Islamic world. Reflecting ongoing concerns about Israel’s purported impact on the US decision to go to war with Iraq, in the eyes of many progressive magazine editors, Israel is no longer just an occupying power, but an inordinately influential, and frequently manipulative party to US efforts to dominate the Middle East.

When it comes to domestic Israeli politics, progressive periodicals pay little attention to it, except when it holds importance for the country’s peace prospects. Thus, when trade unionist Amir Peretz was elected head of Israel’s Labor Party in November 2005, progressive periodicals welcomed his appointment, hoping that, given Peretz’ leftwing background, he would reinvigorate the peace process. Similarly, when Israel Beitenu chief Avigdor Lieberman was appointed 'Minister of Strategic Threats' in 2006, given his ultra-nationalist politics, Lieberman's appointment was heralded as a threat to peace.

[For my outgoing editor's take on how Tikkun covered Israel, click here.]

Location is Everything

Inside the Old City, October 2006.

Zizek for Passover

So what would be the truly radical ethico-political act today in the Middle East? For both Israelis and Arabs, it would be to renounce the (political) control of Jerusalem--that is, to endorse the transformation of the Old Town of Jerusalem into an extra-state place of religious worship controlled (temporarily) by some neutral international force. What both sides should accept is that, by renouncing the political control of Jerusalem, they are effectively renouncing nothing--they are gaining the elevation of Jerusalem into a genuinely sacred site. What they would lose is only what already deserves to be lost: the reduction of religion to a stake in political power plays.

From Let's be Realists, Let's Demand the Impossible!, In These Times, August 30th, 2006

Abu Elvis

Driving home from Jerusalem, 2005.

Tanya Reinhart RIP

I just received word that Tanya Reinhart passed away this weekend in New York. She was sixty-three. What a terrible tragedy. My condolences go out to her family and friends. It was only today that I learned she'd moved to Manhattan towards the end of last year, in order to assume a teaching position at NYU.

Though I didn't agree with all of her positions, Reinhart's tireless efforts to end the occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip are worthy of the utmost respect. In the last issue of Tikkun that I edited (Jan/Feb 2007), Jerome Slater wrote an absolutely outstanding meditation on Reinhart's most recent book, The Road Map to Nowhere. You can read it here.

Aside from a brief email exchange we'd had in the Spring of 2005, the last time I talked to Reinhart was almost exactly three years ago, when I interviewed her for LiP Magazine. An eight hundred word excerpt ended up running in the Summer 2004 issue. I just found a copy of the unedited transcript, and thought these following words would be good to remember Reinhart by:

LiP: Is there an Israeli left at this point?

Reinhart: What’s been extremely encouraging – my ray of light in these bleak days – is to observe that in the young generation there is a movement of resistance that is completely new and courageous. It’s the same generation that got its roots in the anti-WTO demonstrations in Seattle. You first noticed it with the draft resistance movement, which is now bigger than it ever was.

Another amazing new development is that there is a whole new popular resistance movement initiated by Palestinian farmers along the line of the new fence whose land is being stolen by Israelis for the fence. Along that line, in village after village, you’ll find the entire village sitting on the ground in front of the bulldozers. Together with them you’ll find young Israelis.

For the first time in the history of the Occupation, you’ll find the Israeli army facing Palestinians and Israelis together sitting together defending Palestinian land. For me, it’s a big source of hope.

This blog entry can also be found on Alternet.

Authors, Friends

The nicest thing about being an editor are the relationships you forge with authors. By no means the first time I was reminded of this, (but definitely the first since I left Tikkun,) my former film editor decided to pay me a visit on Monday. The first time we'd actually met (after nearly three years of exchanging email and phone calls), Shai Ginsburg was out here on a brief break, determined to finally get together.

One of the best critics of Israeli film writing in English (in fact, the top right now), Shai added the kind of depth to our Israel coverage at Tikkun, which, in the form of film reviews, helped me obviate the magazine's never-ending problems with being deemed too 'anti-colonialist' (to quote a right-wing friend of mine), in its historical emphasis on the occupation, to the exclusion of other forms of Israel analysis.

Much to my delight, as Shai and I walked down to San Francisco's best Middle Eastern joint, the Old Jerusalem Restaurant, we ran into one of my longtime contributors, Other publisher and Choir Boy author Charlie Anders, whose work I've printed in both Punk Planet and Tikkun, as well as The Anti-Capitalism Reader. Strolling quickly by on Mission Street in one of her signature outfits, we almost missed her.

Thankfully, Charlie noticed us, and flagged me down. Introducing her to Shai, I explained that Charlie was the author of one of the more controversial religious pieces I commissioned at Tikkun, an article on transgendered Jews. Long in the making, Charlie's piece was a terrific read, and had a kind of secular quality to it which is so lacking in most Jewish periodical coverage of the new queer spirituality scene.

Speaking of Tikkun, the magazine's webmasters were kind enough to consolidate my infrequent blog entries into one URL. Not exactly god's gift to the blogosphere, there's still some stuff of interest. My last entry was in late December, when, despite my crazy schedule, I attempted to jot down some final thoughts on our Israel/Palestine coverage. Check it out. I'm sure I'll be writing more on this greater subject in the future.

Bring the Noise: Drunks with Guns: Second Verses (Intellectual Convulsion, 1990)

Transgressive Dish Soap

Orakiva shopping mall, Israel, 2006.

Turn on the News

Two years ago, I saw a colleague of mine on the German news program, Journal.  A frequent guest on the show, he always provided the Israeli view whenever there was an important event to comment on in the Middle East. After sending Robert an email to let him know I'd seen him on TV, surprised, he asked what I was doing watching German television. "Television news stinks here in the US," I remember writing back to him. "The offerings are nowhere near as good as what you get in Israel. We try and watch as many European news programs as we can."

Eating dinner last night, I recalled my conversation with Robert as I watched our latest local news import, Russia Today. Hosted by local public television station Channel 32, RT provides an amusing Russian take on international news. Viewing two segments - one on the debate about the establishment of US anti-missile bases in the Czech Republic, the other, the Venezuelan government's granting of sweeping new powers to President Hugo Chavez - I was immediately struck by how nostalgic RT was for the Cold War. Speaking to Czech opponents of the American initiative and Venezuelan supporters of Chavez, Russia Today's reporters made no bones about their biases. Anything that irritated the US was fine by them.

As someone who spent their teens in the US during the 1980s, to have imagined watching a Russian program on American television would have been unthinkable. Let alone, a Russian news broadcaster supportively reporting on the progress an arch-enemy was making in consolidating their revolution. By no means a politically progressive show, (witness RT's endless profiles of successful Russian entrepeneurs) it was still a hoot taking this aspect of Russia's political temperature as I switched back and forth between RT, Larry King Live, and yet another annoying Benny Hill rerun on the BBC.

"I hear that we're going to be getting better programming in the near future," I remember telling Robert in Tel Aviv as we sat together in his apartment watching live footage of Saddam Hussein's trial. " I sure hope so," he replied, pointing to his TV and laughing. "Imagine if you could watch events like this. Its totally unprecedented to see such things, even here, in Israel."

Given the eclecticism of contemporary Israeli media consumption, that, I'm sure of. For example, in December, the Guardian reported that Israel's largest sattelite TV provider, Yes, had dropped BBC World from its roster in favor of the new al-Jazeera English network. Say what? Despite all of the criticisms levelled at the BBC's Israeli coverage in recent years,  an Arab broadcaster beat out a longstanding British news outlet for sattelite television subscribers. How's that for counter-intuitive.

When asked to comment on this, an Israeli relative of mine told me, "All the right-wingers are saying its Arab Israelis who demanded this change. Honestly, I think it was Jews. How else would the Ashkenazim who don't speak Arabic know what the Arab world is thinking?"

Back on the home front in San Francisco, our viewing preference remains BBC World. Every morning, Jennifer and I sit in bed and watch a full hour's broadcast while we drink our coffee and read the newspaper. Even though its only an hour long (and only in the morning,) between this, Deutsche Welle, and even Russia Today, its still a hell of a lot better than relying solely on CNN. Nevertheless, we hear from our cable provider that they'll be adding a dedicated BBC World news channel very soon.

Shwarma with Sharon

It was late in the afternoon at Tel Aviv's Olympia restaurant. Barely a soul was present, with the exception of an overweight middle aged man sitting at the center of a large table, surrounded by several IDF officers sporting berets neatly folded inside their epaulets. Some were sipping cups of  Turkish coffee. Others were smoking cigarettes and talking, while the gentleman at the center of the proceedings sat there in silence.

Eventually a large plate of shwarma arrived, and when it did, all of the soldiers present allowed him to help himself first. Digging his hands into the steaming hot dish, he ended his silence. "Nu, Elie," he yelled out across the room to my father. "Manishma?" ("how are you?" ) he asked. My father got up from our table and politely made his way over to him. "Beseder," ("Fine") he said politely, explaining that he had arrived for a late lunch with his son, whom he'd just brought over from the United States.

"Who is that man you just said hi to?" I asked my father after he returned to our table. "That's Ariel Sharon," my father said. "He's a retired general, who'se now working in politics." I recognized Sharon's name. I'd seen it in the newspaper. It corresponded with a picture book I was reading about the 1973 war. "Isn't he a hero?" I asked.  "Well, yes," my father replied, sounding a little conflicted. "He lead the charge against the Egyptians two years ago in the Sinai."

Over dinner at a friend's apartment in Tel Aviv in 2005, I asked what had become of the Olympia. "It closed many years ago," the hostess said. "When did you last go there?" "When I was eight," I replied. "In 1975." Telling them the story of running into Sharon, they both laughed. "I once worked on Sharon's ranch when I was a kid," the host  said. "Watching him eat was an amazing - and a somewhat unpleasant experience. He would attack food like it was the enemy."