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A few weeks ago my wife mentioned that a friend of a friend emailed about a Saturday field trip. As I am programmed, I asked when was this planned for, and when the answer came that it wasn’t the coming weekend, I must have muttered something and forgot about the whole thing. As nature goes, we were registered and paid for the trip. When Microsoft invited us to the traditional Family Day, I registered right away, and mentioned it to my wife, who muttered something about it and forgot the whole thing. Needless to say, the two events were on the same weekend. We only realized that less than 24 hours before the trip/Family Day. Dorit said that while she would love to be in two places at the same time, we should go to the field trip, as we already paid. I thought it was a reasonable decision.
On Saturday morning we woke up early and took a taxi to the Culture Yard – somewhere near The Lama Temple (Yong He Gong) in Beijing. On the way there I told Dorit that it would be a shame if no other Israeli families show up. We came in first, as usual, but in no time we learned that no less than four Israeli families showed up. In addition, the founder and operator of the place, is a fellow Israeli himself… The tour guide said it was the largest group they ever experienced, there were thirty of us, more than half were Israelis.
We left the place at about 8:30 AM and drove about two hours in a bus – in the Beijing Metropolitan area this translates to about 80 kilometers at best.
 The weather was the usual – a grey soup of clouds, a mixture of humidity and pollution. On the way down to the valley, we walked through a small village. A couple of old men were sitting there quietly, just watching the people who came and went. It occurred to me that smile is a universal language. A smile is always (I don’t remember an exception) answered with a smile even if no other common language is found. I usually tell people to smile more. Yesterday I’ve been told to smile by a stranger. I must have been so concerned, as you soon will see, that I forgot to smile.
We gathered and the usual question was thrown into the air: does anyone need to use the bathroom. A few hands shot up in the air, and a group of mostly women and young girls started for the bathroom only to realize that the terminology similarity stops right there. A hole in the ground and the evidence around it didn’t quite qualify. They went for the “wild”… And soon after that we started our hike. Surrounded by large boulders, the canyon is a natural beauty disturbed on occasion by human garbage and campers’ leftovers. Still, the views were spectacular, and the company was great.
We had to cross the stream many times as the path changed sides according to the topology. The stream was shallow and cold,, and the crossing was on stones strategically placed along the crossover. Being the pedantic creature that I am, I was worried about getting my sneakers and Guy’s sneakers and pants wet. This concern disappeared quickly as soon as Guy placed both feet in the water, and I slipped and dipped a foot. We continued the walk for about an hour before we stopped for “refreshments”. Bags were put down and stuff showed up. As traditional Israelis often do, we quickly found that was a large variety of cakes, cookies, fruit, sandwiches, sweets, soft drinks, and even coffee and tea. The our guide even had his own water heater and he actually cooked a great can of coffee with a Middle Eastern spice. What an amazing break. When we started to walk again, everyone was basically full and happy.
We continued to walk, we crossed a bridge and walked on logs, and even crossed a “lake” with “boats”. The quote unquote is placed where it is as the “lake” was a reasonably deep puddle roughly fifty feet long, and the “boats” were a lifesaver and a rubber ducky. I kid you not. We were seated in the “boats” and those were pulled over to the other side by a couple of women. It was a strange experience. We then left the stream and went up the hill to a section of the Great Wall of China, not reconstructed or maintained, with a pretty watchtower. I almost reached the top…
We then headed for a nearby village for a late lunch. We had it at a family home which is also a hotel – “Beijing Rural Tourism Household”. They served us a very big lunch. The dishes just kept coming and coming, they certainly receive an A for effort. It wasn’t the kind of food I would order at a restaurant, but it was good, seemed fresh and clean, and plenty. We then headed for the bus and the three hours now to do the same 80 kilometers.
By the way, yesterday was our fourteenth wedding anniversary. It was a nice way to celebrate it. We had a great day, hoping for another fourteen good years.
I do have an observation though. We have traveled in Israel, in the USA, in Thailand, India, several Greek islands, China, Turkey, and more. The site we went to see this weekend is not maintained, has no safety features whatsoever, no services. People who visited there before we did left tons of garbage around. But this is not my observation. My observation is that people like us, coming from the West, are very particular when it comes to safety in places we visit IN THE WEST. But unfortunately, we have no bar whatsoever when it comes to traveling in other places. We are so used to safety measures, to medical help and evacuation procedures being in place, that we don’t even question them when we travel elsewhere. It occurred to me yesterday, what if someone gets hurt? Do we have the means to get them to a medical facility? (Is there a medical facility nearby that takes less than three hours in traffic to get to?). What if we get lost? What if the “bridge” breaks? What if crossing on logs, the heavy guy (that’s me), or the little guy (that’s Guy) falls off?
You may think of me as hysterical. Admittedly I am. Yet I was trained to plan for the worst and hope for the best. And that’s what I do. I was hoping for the best yesterday…
P.S.
I could not take a photo of the “Lake Crossing”. Luckily, someone else did. Thank Einat. I must ask, did you think I was exaggerating when I described the “boats” as a lifesaver and a rubber ducky? Do you believe me now?
The exchange deal for Gilad Shalit is mind boggling, heart ripping, impossible, unfair. It’s terrible in the present, and has a potential to be even worse in the future. There’s nothing good in it. Except one thing. A POW (Prisoner of War) will be coming home. He will come home alive, unlike some other MIAs (Missing in Action), POWs, and others killed in combat, in terrorist attacks, bombings, and all other activities. The “partner” to this deal is a blood thirsty, murderous and evil. This “partner” is doing no favor to Israel, and surprisingly neither to the Palestinian people. This “partner” will only bring anguish, destruction and death to all its neighbors.
Having said all that, the deal must be done. It should have been done a long time ago, but better late than never. Yes, there are risks in this horrible deal. Two obvious ones are the following. About one thousand people, many of which actually took part in murder whether directly or indirectly, are going to walk the streets, possibly become heroes in the eyes of the people whom they represent. It may trigger a feeling of victory in certain eyes. Forget it guys, you have won nothing. It may trigger the feeling that Israel is weak. Forget it guys, Israel isn’t week. It ain’t smart, but it ain’t weak wither. It may trigger some activity whose goal is to capture another soldier or civilian and trade. True, it can, and probably will. The head of the Israeli Security Services, the Chief of Staff, and many others stated clearly and unequivocally that this deal should not be done for these reasons. While I share the concern, I have an answer. Security Services all around the world must face new situation every minute of the day. They can always voice their opinions – I think it should be done in a very quiet, discreet way – but what they should really do is prepare to deal with the new situation. The decision is a political, diplomatic, government decision. The civil servants must accept, prepare, and deliver a solution, not contest the problem.
To the Shalit family, I don’t want to congratulate prematurely, as in our region of the world things are not done until they’re done. Yet, I want to tell you that all at our home support you, and wish you all the best. May you know no more anxiety, anguish, sorry and worry. Coming to think about it, I wish it to all of us. ברוך פודה שבויים
I’m usually a happy guy. I mean not ecstatic, as in walking around with a huge smile on my face, you know the Cheshire Cat style. But seriously, I usually am content. I realized that I’ve been down for a few days now and I couldn’t figure out why. I went through the usual suspects: the Jewish Holidays – the Jewish people will immediately relate I’m sure. Who to invite to the festive meals? Who would bring what dish? The usual stuff. Turned out not to be the issue this time. As we live in Beijing, we celebrated with friends, there were no issues. Next came work issues, but that turned out not to be the case either, as we are doing very well for our next milestone. The kids? Not this time. Winter? Changing to Daylight Saving Time? No and no.
Turns out it was Steve Jobs’ passing.
October 5, 2011 apparently touched a nerve. It will probably take me some time to understand why the death of a technology icon affected me personally, but at least a couple of things came to mind. Steve Jobs was a brave man. He tried and succeeded, he tried and lost, he died once and was resurrected from the dead (figuratively speaking), and was proven right over and over again, even though the rumors suggest he was certainly not a man of consensus but more of a dictator. It brought to mind the saying “Only the Good Die Young”. And he was really good and really young.
Steve Jobs’ death brought me back almost thirty years to my undergraduate years, using an Apple 2e with a 5.25” floppy disk drive to compile my Pascal programs for my Data Structures, Operating Systems, and Programming Languages classes. Compared to today’s Macintosh experience it would be like chiseling hieroglyphs on large pieces of stone, but it was better than using the university mainframe at strange hours of the night.
Which brings me to the last point. When an immortal dies, it does make you think differently about your own mortality. And even though I am not religious, I am a rational person who knows that all people end up dead, and that there’s no life after death nor will be resurrection of any sort, I always considered Steve Jobs to be immortal. Not the kind of immortality Mozart, Moses, Jesus, Muhammad , Einstein, Newton, and so many others experienced after their physical death (well they didn’t experience anything after death, yet they are still remembered). Real immortality. I know it may be childish, but consider this. Steve Jobs was diagnosed in 2005 if I’m not mistaken. He was forty nine. He had more resources at his disposal than most humans do in terms of doctors, treatments, transplants, anything. And if couldn’t beat death, then nobody can.
As I said, childish, and yet… Steve Jobs.
And lastly, I was trying to think, will Steve Jobs be remembered in a generation? Two? Will people two hundred years from now even know his name? Will he become another one of the list of unforgettable human beings? Sadly, the answer is most unlikely.
Read the book of Ecclesiastics, the last book written by King Solomon, the smartest man who ever lived. Should you ask why should you read that book, I have at least two good reasons. The first one is that it’s not on the book list when it comes to religious people. It’s most commonly ignored, reading it usually comes with a warning that it was written by an old man who may have lost his way. The other reason is that it’s written by an old man, potentially bitter, who experienced life already and his innocence is lost. King Solomon is the one who wrote the Song of Songs when he was young and innocent. King Solomon is the one who wrote Ecclesiastics when he was close to the end of his life. I wonder, who do you think is more qualified to advise on life? The young and inexperienced? Or the old and experienced?
Indeed, it’s not easy reading. The language is difficult, even when you are trained in biblical Hebrew (the original language in which this masterpiece was written) like me, a graduate of the religious education system in Israel. It’s also obviously realistic, unhappy, pessimistic. It breaks all the myths, legends, fairytales previously told about God, people, life. It’s a terrible book, in the most positive way possible. I love it.
Ecclesiastics, at least for me, solved a big question in Judaism. The big question, which I’m sure is asked by many who aren’t Jewish, is how come evil people prosper, while pious people suffer. Indeed, time and again you would meet really good people who go through unimaginable hardships, and the complete contrary, really evil people who really experience heaven on earth. It’s a difficult issue, which is dealt with by numerous theologists. There are many answers. I like neither. One of the answers is that evil people get rewarded for all the little good they have done here on earth, while paying dearly for their misdeeds in the next world, while the contrary holds for the pious: they get all the punishments for their little sins here on this world, while heaven awaits them when they die. Cute, yet completely unsatisfying.
And then comes Ecclesiastics with the following explanation: יא שַׁבְתִּי וְרָאֹה תַחַת-הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ, כִּי לֹא לַקַּלִּים הַמֵּרוֹץ וְלֹא לַגִּבּוֹרִים הַמִּלְחָמָה וְגַם לֹא לַחֲכָמִים לֶחֶם וְגַם לֹא לַנְּבֹנִים עֹשֶׁר, וְגַם לֹא לַיֹּדְעִים, חֵן: כִּי-עֵת וָפֶגַע, יִקְרֶה אֶת-כֻּלָּם.
Simple, yet beautiful, and believable. (My own translation): I have seen over and over again that races aren’t won by the fastest, nor wars are won by heroes, bread by the smart, wealth by the wise, favor by the skilled; As time and hurt happens to them all.
Statistically, Ecclesiastics suggests, suffering pious and prosperous evil, are only 50% of the population. The other 50% are prosperous pious and suffering evil. Bottom line: all is chance, all is random.
Another interesting observation by King Solomon is the following:
ד כִּי-מִי אֲשֶׁר יבחר (יְחֻבַּר), אֶל כָּל-הַחַיִּים יֵשׁ בִּטָּחוֹן: כִּי-לְכֶלֶב חַי הוּא טוֹב, מִן-הָאַרְיֵה הַמֵּת.
A live dog is better than a dead lion. Paraphrasing, a live coward is better than a dead hero. What will it be?
Today, October 4, 2011, is a very important day for my family. Today, fifty years ago, on October 4, 1961, my parents were married. My father just turned 25, and my mother haven’t celebrated her 21st birthday just yet. My father was born in Jerusalem thirteen years before Israel won recognition as a state by the United Nations, and my mother was born somewhere in between Romania and the Ukraine, in a concentration camp, a couple of years before Liberation. They moved into a small apartment near today’s heart of Tel Aviv. When I say small, I mean really small, with a living room and a half a bedroom – just to give you an idea how small it was, when they moved out a few years later, they sold it to the next door neighbor who broke the walls to make it one single reasonably sized unit… My dad worked for the government, and my mother was a teacher. They had me precisely thirteen months after the wedding, on November 3, 1962. Their 50th anniversary, indicates that I will be celebrating my own 50th birthday next year. I can’t say that this is something I’m looking forward to, yet the alternative looks a lot less appealing.
 We were just talking the other day how life was in Tel Aviv almost fifty years ago. It was less crowded, there were less cars and buses, people were friendlier, and you could count the TV channels on the fingers of one hand. No cellular phones, laptops, tablets, desktops, remote controls. Plenty of time outside, with friends, playing ball and riding bicycles. A lot more reading, and a lot more conversation. Now that I’m thinking about it, our first telephone came years later in the house we moved to in 1967, and the line was shared with our downstairs neighbor who apparently was on the phone all the time. Life was simpler, no doubt. I can say that we, the small family who had an addition in 1966 – my sister was born, had everything we needed. I don’t remember ever feeling deprived of anything, even though my parents we middle class at best.
My brother was born in 1970, and then we were three. We all lived in one room, which barely contained a dual and a single bed, and a large closet. I doubt that any of my children could store his or her stuff in that room even if it was entirely his or hers. We moved to a larger house, a three bedroom house in a better part of Tel Aviv in the early seventies. My parents have lived there until just a couple of years ago.
During their marriage, Israel experienced a few wars: 1967, 1973, 1982, 1991, 2006 and a couple of uprisings as well. They also experienced three children, ten grandchildren, two Masters degrees and a Ph.D. They have experienced hardships, they have experienced joy and loss. Mostly, they experienced what we all look for in a spouse: a strong, deep connection and understanding that allowed them to go through the good times as well as the hard times, together.
It’s fifty years later, and I doubt that my dad knows that he is celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary today. He’s been ill for a few years now. He’s being helped even with the basics by my mother and some hired help. I look at him, this tall, handsome, well-spoken man, who was always respectful of everyone, who loved his children and his grandchildren more than life itself. A man who did everything for his family. I look at him, and I try to understand what’s it like to be locked up in a broken body, with no ability to even communicate his most basic needs. And through this all I can still wish my mother and him – Happy Anniversary. We all wish that the circumstances were better. We all wish that we could take you out and celebrate this important day. Nonetheless, and for what it’s worth, Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.
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