What do you mean, we're not moving and it has to do with Russia?

Last night I joined a few other teachers to celebrate someone's birthday. They got me at 7 or so, and in a two car caravan we drove to Neve Tzedek, a hip artsy neighborhood in Tel Aviv. We had left late and anticipated Thursday night traffic, and so were nervous about the 12-person reservation at the restaurant. Still, we figured the 20 minutes of typical driving would maybe double.
Well it took us 20 minutes...to get through a set of lights on the border of the city. And another 20 minutes or so before that. And a few more sets of 20. In sum, it took us an hour and a half. (Don't check my math, since it's only implied and math tutoring starts Monday).
That's all well and good, but there was an unusual disturbance: as we drove down the beach road in Tel Aviv, deciding that would be the most direct route to Neve Tzedek (and scenic, taking us by the Old port area that is newly revitalized, and near Jaffa, the original settlement in the area), we continued to drag ass. Not our fault, of course, as there were hordes of cars dragging ass in front of us. Well, maybe partly our fault, because our driver, the kindly Kevin, would allow cars from side streets to go in front of us, a grand gesture completely foreign to Israeli driving mores, where you as soon let a guy go in front of you as you slow down entering a roundabout, or never. But the few cars we let go in front of us slowed us down minimally, so really, it wasn't our fault.
As we neared the U.S. Embassy, situated across from the beach and next to Mike's Place, an American sports bar, we saw a bunch of people on the side of the road. They were making noise and carrying signs and flags, the flags white with a red cross, and then four smaller crosses in the corners. As the people passed by us and we by the people, we started reading the signs.
In English, Russian, and Georgian, they were signs protesting the war. Specifically, they were Georgians (or Georgian Jews, I suppose, or even Georgian Israelis) demanding that the Russians leave, that the Americans intervene, that Medvedev become president (alluding to the likelihood that Putin is still behind everything), and that we acknowledge that Putin=Hitler (or Gitler; Russian and probably Georgian turn H sounds to G). Of course, listening to the radio station Reka ("The River", a Russian station in Israel), I heard that the same comparisons were being made in Moscow, about Saakshivilii. Seems to me that, using the ol' transitivity rule, that Saakshivilii=Putin, and that we might be dealing with a huge case of schizophrenia, and somebody get Borges on the phone.

On a serious tangent, this war is atrocious if not surprising. I am no better informed than anybody about this (Friday night, when my internet was still balky about certain websites, I got a gchat request from a friend for perspective on the war between Russia and Georgia. "Oh, there's a war now?" I said). I harbor distrust for both governments involved, as well as for the U.S. administration as they heavyhandedly try to make their impact. Also, the behavior here from Russia and the U.S. over the general principle is somewhat contrary to their stances over Kosovo (in that case the U.S. supported the autonomy of a breakaway ethnicity, Russia opposed; here it's the reverse, roughly speaking), suggesting that realpolitik > principles.
I have talked to someone in Moscow who, when not disgusted with politics and people in general, reports great anger at Saakshivilii, and the U.S. for supporting him, which suggests that Russia is getting one side of the story. Seeing that Condoleeza Rice isn't meeting with Russia and that McCain is making bold remarks about Georgia on his mind suggests that another side is playing there. Israel holds an interesting place in this as many immigrants here are from Russia and Georgia. For example, when talking about the Israeli wrestling team, people often point out that they're all Georgians or Russians.
Which brings me to the other personal touch I have with this. When I wrestled at CSKA, I became friendly with a few Ossetians, both South and North I believe, and some Georgians. I remember an owl-eyed kid named Bekah, who left because he had to serve in the Georgian army, and Ossetski Lev, a wide-grinning fellow whose full name was Ludwig. There was a Muslim kid from Georgia who insisted he wasn't Georgian. That area, the Caucauses, is a mix of a ton of nationalities (and a pair of religions: Islam and Russian Orthodox), and at times their differences erupt - Dagestan isn't the safest place, Chechnya had its war day, etc.
As was pointed out to me in a lecture by an American professor at Tel Aviv University when talking about the Middle East, the decline of empires and rise of self-rule makes it difficult to assess who deserves rule, and everybody wants a piece. That is to say, during the Soviet Union, Georgia and Ossetia and all these other nations and nationalities were subsumed in part of the larger country. They were equal in their misery, so to speak. Now, with unclear national boundaries and the supposed freedom to choose where they stand, these countries and peoples are obviously struggling. So while I don't have enough knowledge or facts on this situation, and I think that both sides are in the wrong here and assessments are hard to make, the war is inevitable. And inevitably crappy.

Just like Tel Aviv traffic, which finally receded after we passed the protest. We finally made it to the restaurant, where our table was still reserved, and had a jolly evening. Though the puff pastry stuffed with liver, onions, and pear sauce was a bad choice. Seriously, I blame the pear sauce.

The traffic's abatement was temporary, however: the ride home took about 40 minutes. That, at least, was the double time period.

So the nature of traffic is pretty bad here, though of course it's pretty bad in New York, or Sao Paolo, or Moscow. What about inevitable things particular to Israel?

Security
Everybody wonders about whether it's safe here. "Don't get blown up" I heard not a few times, or "Don't blow us up!" which was a bit of a confused sentiment. The news says bad things happen all the time, that ceasefires are temporary, illusory agreements, and that the whole country is in danger.
Which it is, probably, to some degree. But day to day life is pretty safe, beyond the threat of Israeli drivers. Arab minorities and Jewish majorities live together in peace, from what I've noticed to date, and the existential threat felt on the geopolitical level doesn't really enter into your thoughts. Especially when lounging on the beach is involved.

There are a couple notable exceptions, though. Security becomes a natural part of life, to a higher degree than it would be in the U.S. or Europe.

When we drive to school, we have to pass through a gate to enter and to leave. A security sticker affixed to our car allows us in. Nothing too fancy, but an added check.

There's a different check when you go to park at the mall. As you descend into the underground parking lot, a queue forms at the entrance. One car at a time enters the parking lot, after a security guard gives the ok. The guard gives the ok only after checking your trunk to "make sure" nothing fishy is going on. I'm told there's very little that they do to check, just a quick eyeball. Also, sometimes they'll ask you if you're carrying a gun on you. Your word is bond there, unless you're visibly packing.

Related to these security concerns is the national predilection to overreact. For example, in between Herziliya Pituach (the beach part of the city Herziliya that I more or less live in) and Herziliya proper is a set of train tracks. Since I have consciously tried to go into Herziliya, starting last weekend on foot, I have not once crossed these train tracks without having to stop and wait for a train to go by.

A high frequency of trains going through Herziliya? Maybe. But more significant is that the gates come down at least a full 90 seconds before the train is in sight. Apparently, once in recent times a car waiting for the train to pass got rear ended straight onto the tracks, and those in the car were subsequently killed by the oncoming train. So now, the 90 seconds of wait time is a mandatory facet, with an attendant who sits in a booth with a cell phone, ready to call the train if there's any sort of problem. And once the train at last passes, they raise the gates and the traffic flushes through the tracks.

This same sort of reactionary philosophy (and really, with a country full of Jewish parents, what would you expect?) is apparently why they're so restrictive about swimming space these days at the beach; a few weeks ago, a couple people drowned due to storms deep in the Mediterranean or something. So now we get to know our neighbors and their tighty-whitey "swim suits" a little too well. (As an addendum, I was told yesterday that there are people who water the grass in their tighty-whiteys around here, or even ride a bike around. Mmm.)


Weekends
Today is Friday, which is of course the start of the Shabbat, at sundown. In Israel, it's the weekend. A little inconvenient when we work on an American work week, except that Sunday, a work day in this country, is a free day for us. Empty beach, public transportation, and I assume less crowded streets in Tel Aviv.
So, this is my weekend to explore Tel Aviv. Pictures, stories, and amusement will be here soon, I hope. Oh, and school starts Monday. Hmm...


But before you go, some pictures from the beach I live five minutes from! Yeah.

The old mosque next to our beach, known as Sidnya Ali. Once a place where the Phoenician raiders would store their loot. History is everywhere here, eh?

Walking down to the sunset and the water. It was very nice to swim at this time. What else would it be?

No questions, no words.