tel aviv, israels day of indépendance, we walk towards rabin square where thousands of people all walk laughing, smiling, waving flags and wheeling their kids, it's a strange thing to have your bags checked at the entrance to the sealed of sections. this is common practice everywhere, every time, no exceptions, when you go to the mall to get a newspaper and some milk you have to undergo this ritual but most people here are happy to do it if it means some extremist with a bomb and an expectation that 72 virgins await him in heaven don't slip through. amazing that people are motivated by virginity, personally i like to know that whoever i am dealing with has some experience but there ya go.
so we line up and when the beautiful young woman in green kaki pulls out a book and a pair of sunglasses in a red case she smiles and guides me forwards into the swarm. rabin square is the name of the area they gave in memory of the prime minister yitzak rabin who was about to sign a peace treaty and then got assassinated. they have a small memorial where he was shot, and a number of bouquets and candles adorn this, however the actual plaza is a strange place, set up with a stage and lighting at one end and seats facing, surrounded by buildings designed from the worst architectural examples of the 50's 60's and 70's. thousands of people sit and stand around this plaza and martin, jake and i wait for something to happen. bob marly starts playing through the speakers, high up on the wall of one building is a massive poster of scarlett johansen about to have an orgasm, her eyes seem to be looking at mine and i find my attention caught between events on stage and scarlett, although when jakob reminds me she is the same age as he, i find myself somewhat fighting my natural dispositions.
a terrible dance troupe come on stage and cheesy music starts to blast out, a mixture of pet shop boys meets bollywood and the middle east, i sense the bombastic arrangements of queen in there as well and for the next two hours we are bombarded with the awful trauma of sitting through this nightmare. jakob and my cousins son rohee decide to go to a party so they get away early but martin and i are awaiting some friends who appear about two hours later.
this show is terrible, really cheesy and badly executed complete with an awful firework display, however around us thousands of people sing and dance and jump up and down for joy.
after we hook up with a french girl who takes us to a rooftop party, cheap vodka, a live band and plenty of people who like like extras from a woody allen movie all dancing and talking, i meet an indian professor with a glaswegian accent and we talk at length about lloyd cole and simple minds, i meet a new york beatnik who has a great beard that took hm two years to perfect, i dance with a crazy girl who keeps whacking me over the head with an inflatable hammer.
'is this some jewish mating ritual?' i ask.
'it's called the hebrew hammer.' she laughs.
'israeli girls are very progressive and liberated, in australia they still use clubs.'
'we prefer the inflatable approach and if you don't fall under our spell then we bring out the heavy artillery.'
'i'm under.'
i chat to the french girl for a while, martin and i leave, slipping out onto the streets and joining the mass movement of people, we find a coffee shop and watch all the glamourous russian girls strut past. this is hot russian brides dot com in 3d, it's incredible, high heels tight short skirts, everyone super friendly, looking sexy, i never thought jews were very sexy but i guess scarlett johansson proves me wrong.