6 October 2006 (14 Tishrey 5767)
This Sunday we switched from the summer time to the winter time in Israel according to the most complicated formula in the world. Since then I have been experiencing a difficulty in adjusting myself to the winter time. To be more precise, my body could easily switch to it, but I have been tortured by something for which this man-made switch means nothing.
A few weeks before the end of the summer time, i.e., in the middle of September, a bird started coming to a fig tree in the backyard of our building at exactly a quarter after six in the morning and chirped for about ten minutes like an alarm clock. Since I usually get up at six, my sleep was not interrupted by this noise, but when I noticed that the bird kept coming at the same time every day, I started worrying what would happen with the start of the winter time. So the first thing I did every morning was to chase away this innocent bird so that it might not return any more, but to my great disappointment, it did not fail to return to our backyard every morning.
This Sunday morning, the first day after the switch to the winter time, I was waken up by familiar chirps at exactly a quarter after five, when I was supposed to continue sleeping 45 more minutes. My worst fear came true. In two respects this noise is much more irritating than the other kinds of noises I have been struggling with both back in Japan and in Israel. Firstly, it starts when I am sleeping, and I am deprived of the last precious minutes of my sleep every morning. Secondly, since it is a result of an instinctive and not volitional act, I cannot even complain to its source and try to persuade it in rational terms to stop it.
Since this Sunday I am forced to sleep 45 minutes less every morning and spend part of these precious moments trying to chase away the bird, not in order to harm it but to persuade it nonverbally that it can chirp more comfortably elsewhere. In the meanwhile my efforts have turned out to be futile, and the bird has been keeping my alarm clock "unemployed". I have been wondering what I can do to get out of this torture. If this noise continues, I am sure to go crazy. I even thought of getting up at five instead of six, but then I would have to go to sleep at nine instead of ten as I need to sleep eight hours in order to function normally during the day, so this idea is not realistic.
When I suffered from other kinds of noises, my mother used to tell me that I would have to live in a forest to enjoy the luxury of silence. But now I am quite convinced that it can even be much fuller of unbearable noises than a city. Some people may find chirps of birds and crickets as well as other sounds of animals pleasant, but they are no less tortuous for me than announcements from loudspeakers, mobile phone conversations and certain kinds of "music" that overuse drums such as hard rock.
13 October 2006 (21 Tishrey 5767)
When I was a child, it was still quite common in Japan, at least in the place where I was born and brought up, to see adults scold someone else's children. They must have felt responsible for the education not only of their own children but of those of the whole community. My late grandmother was such a person. Some of my classmates were afraid of her, but her scolding derived from love and not from hatred. I myself was scolded by her many times as I was a mischievous child, but at the same time I always felt her deep love toward me. She must have been among the last adults of this sort. I came to see such scenes less and less frequently in Japan. I hear that more and more parents not only never scold their own children but even criticize other adults who dare to scold their children. There is no wonder that Japanese society is becoming more and more childish as more and more people are becoming adults legally without having been scolded by anyone.
Today I was invited to the brit mila ('circumcision') of a grandson of a haredi rabbi in Jerusalem I have been in touch with for more than ten years. The ceremony was touching as I felt the commitment of the whole community to raise him to be a good person. Far more touching was a scene I saw after the ceremony itself was over and we guests ate and davened together. One of the children ran wild and made fun of one of the guests, then another guest who was not his father grabbed him by the arm and scolded him, saying, "Without derekh erets ('respect') for someone who is older than you there is no (Torah) learning." I am sure that for this guest this was a natural behavior and he must not have imagined that it could impress someone else who saw it. It was not foreign to me, either, but I almost forgot its existence. This child is fortunate enough to have such a community that can scold him.
20 October 2006 (28 Tishrey 5767)
My minimalist approach to life is translated into my preference for, e.g., women with minimal cosmetics (like all my ex-girlfriends), minimal number of clothes (but in good quality), minimal furniture (with no TV set, of course) and minimalist foods. It is relatively easy to find/achieve the first three in Israel, but unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to have the last here, especially if you do not cook for yourself, and sometimes even if you do so.
By minimalist foods I mean those foods that are cooked with a minimal amount of culinary "cosmetics" so that the "true face" of the material may be seen and enjoyed. Almost every food served in restaurants here, including even salad, wears "makeup", which does not always seem necessary for me, just as is the case with women. It may occur to few people here that they can eat foods, whether cooked or not, only with salt (and pepper) or even without them, and can often enjoy them more. Cosmetics is not always used to enhance beauty but to hide ugliness.
I miss minimalist vegetarian foods as are sold or served in Japan, including various kinds of soybean foods and sea weeds as served or cooked as they are, especially when my stomach is not in a good condition like now. I am used to drinking a lot of beer (I generally drink three liters of beer every day), but this week I apparently drank too much as I had three parties with my friends. I cannot even stand the sight of a beer bottle, to say nothing of drinking it. Unfortunately, I know no restaurant in Jerusalem that serve minimalist foods. I should probably look for macrobiotic restaurants here.
I can only admire the gastric strengh of average Israelis who do not get fed up with culinary cosmetics and perform digestive acrobatics with what seem to me very unhealthy foods such as sweet things after a full meal and a lot of oil in many dishes.
27 October 2006 (5 Kheshvan 5767)
When there is only one choice about something, and that something is very important for you, you have no choice but to take it, whether you like it or not. Ironically, the more choices you have, the more difficult it becomes to decide on one of them, as you tend to expect as many advantages as possible in a single choice.
When I still lived in Kobe, Japan, I was spared the trouble of racking my brain over where to daven, as there was only one shul (Ohel Shelomo). I once heard that Jerusalem has more shuls than any other city in the world. Even in my neighborhood and its vicinity there are quite a few. In the past one year or so I have been looking for a shul where I feel comfortable to daven regularly, at least on shabes. I think I have visited almost 20 shuls around my apartment for this purpose. It seems that my quest is over as I feel that I have finally found a shul (Chorev) where I am ready not only to daven regularly but also to be involved communally.
I looked for a shul with as many of the following attributes as possible: 1) the Hebrew pronunciation of davening is "Lithuanian", 2) the style of davening is Ashkenaz, 3) the place is not too big, 4) the place is built in such a way as to make you comfortable, 5) congregants are not too old, 6) congrenants can leave you alone on the one hand and make you feel at home on the other. As a linguist the first is quite important for me as I feel more Yiddishkeit when I daven in this traditional pronunciation of Hebrew, but it is very difficult to come by in non-Haredi shuls. But of course, far more important are the last two. When I first visited Chorev a few weeks ago, I felt like being there again - a feeling I generally did not have in other shuls, probably with the exception of Yakar. It has more of these attributes than any of the shuls I have visited so far here. I even had the honor of being called up to the Torah in my second (!) morning service on shabes there.
I remember davening there many years ago when it was in a physically depressing condition and barely had a minyan on shabes. In the last few years the shul seems to have undergone a significant transformation both in its architecture and in its community. Like every vibrating community it gives you energy just by being there.