You Don't Look a Day Over 62

As you may know, yesterday was Yom Ha'Zikaron (Israel's Memorial Day) and today is Yom Ha'Atzmaut (Independence Day, i.e. Israel's 62nd Birthday). The placement of the two days one after the other has symbolic significance, and the idea is to commemorate all of Israel's fallen soldiers and civilians, and then celebrate what they were fighting for, that being the State of Israel.

I should probably start by explaining that Yom Ha'Zikaron is a deeply personal holiday for all Israelis. Virtually everyone in the country knows or served with someone who has died in the conflict. It's a very heavy day - not like American Memorial Day with its barbecues and parades. That said, it all started at eight o'clock Sunday night with a siren that went off to announce the beginning of Yom Ha'Zikaron. Produced by the dreaded air-raid siren, I wasn't sure what it was at first. Thinking that it might be another test, I called Lermie:

Me: Lermie?
Lermie: Yom Ha'Zikaron.
Me: Ahh

When the siren goes off, you're supposed to stop what you're doing and stand for a minute of silence, which we did.

The next morning, there was another siren scheduled to go off at eleven, so we walked to the excessively huge pedestrian bridge just next to our house and watched as everyone stopped what they were doing when the siren went off. People driving parked their cars in order to get out and stand for the minute. The men doing construction on the new train tracks got out of their vehicles and stood silently. Cyclists dismounted in order to pay their respects. In the newspaper the next day, there were pictures of people standing on the train in order to commemorate the fallen. Literally the entire country stood still for a minute. To be honest, it kind of gave me goose bumps. Then, when the sirens stopped, everyone got back into their cars and construction vehicles, mounted their bicycles, took their seats, and carried on their way.

Then, when the sun goes down on Yom Ha'Zikaron, it means that it's time to celebrate Israeli independence. For those of us trying to be critical of Israel and struggling with their Zionist identity, Yom Ha'Atzmaut can be a complicated holiday. However, we came to the conclusion that we are critical of Israel 364 days a year - we can take a day off to celebrate it. This means free concerts and carnivals in every corner of the country, barbecuing, parades, loud music, and, in general, partying in the way that only Israel can. For us, this meant Kobi Peretz: King of the Arsim.

We met our Golden God at the festival that was being held at Akko's City Hall. They closed off a bunch of streets around the City Hall, which is located pretty much in downtown Akko, and the streets were filled with vendors selling cotton candy, balloons, light-up toys, shawarma, hot corn, salted Ful beans, and big blowup hammers covered in Israeli flag motifs. There were kids walking around dressed in full costume as dogs and cows, and, of course, loads and loads of babies. The stage was a fenced off area located on the steps of the City Hall, and the show included lots of youth choirs and dance groups from Akko, as well as a speech from the mayor and the rabbi, before finally getting to the main event: Kobi Peretz.

The most famous mizrachi singer in the country, he regularly performs in Tel Aviv and the surrounding wealthy suburbs. None of us were really sure why he decided to come to Akko, and the other shows went on for so long that at one point we thought that maybe it was all a big scam and he wasn't actually coming. But then around 10:15, they started setting up for what seemed to be a big act. Having already sat through the opening acts for over two hours, we promised each other that we would leave if Kobi Peretz wasn't the next one on stage.

The setup crew was experiencing some technical difficulties, and around 10:45, the man himself finally took the stage. It was worth the wait (absolutely no irony here). Clad in white slacks, a half unbuttoned shirt, platinum blond hair and a goatee to match, he performed four or five numbers (which were all fairly long) in his smooth mizrachi voice. He was actually pretty good, and the population of Akko was very appreciative. Men and women, young and old alike, sang along with fervor. If you're interested in checking him out (which I would recommend) you can click here.

We left at about 11:15, a little before the conclusion of the show. Somehow we had managed to get spots pretty near to the front, and as we filed out, others flooded in to replace us. As we were walking across the pedestrian bridge that led back to our house, we saw fireworks go off above downtown Akko marking the end of the show.

As today is a national holiday and almost all Israeli schools are closed (except for Arab schools) we didn't have messima so instead we took the opportunity to have a massive barbecue, Fourth of July style. Some of the boys stripped an old shower, filled it with coals, and covered it with spare oven grates to make a makeshift grill, and we grilled up enough chicken, veggie dogs, and vegetables to eat for at least a few days. We bought loads of pickles and olives, and entertainment was provided by Simon and Leya alternately jamming on the guitar (Leya's really good at the Oregon Trail theme song, and Simon likes to perform covers of Tenacious D).

Around five o'clock, many people slipped into food comas, and, sitting on the coach alone eating chips, I decided that I would rather write a blog post than work on scholarship applications. (Do you think they award scholarships to people who write blogs? That could be two birds with one stone.)

Anyhow, that's the latest news from Akko. Happy Israeli Independence Day; tomorrow I'll go back to being critical.