Amiram Hayardeny's My China Experience

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Sunday May 11, 2008

British Scientific Competitions and My Little Sister

The Winning Lecture at the FameLab Science Competition: the Gene that Promotes Monogamy

Adi Yaniv, a Biomedical Masters student at the Hebrew University Dental School, won a trip to the science festival at Chatham, and a laptop.

Adi Yaniv, a Masters student at the Dental School at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem is the winner of the FameLab competition. In this competition, young scientists are asked to explain complex scientific topics to an audience of laymen in three minutes, and with no technical assistance whatsoever. The competition, organized by the British Council in cooperation with the Center for Scientific Education in Tel Aviv, has been taking place for two years, and has drawn, this year as well, outstanding young researchers, some of whom already published papers in esteemed scientific magazines.

The competition's finals, which took place last week, nine researchers who won primary local competitions at the Technion (Israel Institute of Technology), the Center for Scientific Education in Tel Aviv, and the Science Museum in Jerusalem. The judges were Professor Ehud Gazit from the Tel Aviv University, Dr. Liat Hayardeny, a senior researcher of multiple sclerosis of Teva Pharmaceutical, and Dr. Adi Matan, the British scientific attache.

And the point is? One of the judges carries my last name. That's no coincidence. Liat (Liush) Hayardeny is my little sister, and a world famous researcher of Multiple Sclerosis. Liat, I'm very proud of you. We all are!

Posted at 08:41PM May 11, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[0]

Saturday May 10, 2008

American Idol - a Balanced View

American Idol is a shallow TV show. It puts together everything that's wrong in our society today. Good looking people who aspire to succeed quickly, without the required seasoning, experience, and the all-so-common failures. Successful performers/producers/singers (make your pick), who are "judging" the young contenders to the "American Idol" crown. The song selection, the clothing, the hairdos, the audience, the questions from the viewers - all shows bad taste, ignorance, and the readiness to idolize (literally) everything that smells of money and good looks. I despise this show, I think it uses the lowest feelings of human beings who want to succeed, but know that it is never going to happen for them. They will have to watch others as they make it, while sucking from their beer bottles, and picking on their peanuts. I wouldn't be caught dead watching this show. Yet I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Syesha Mercado doesn't have to retire in Las Vegas, she can go there already. David Archuleta can go sing in shopping malls and elevators. He's sweet, smooth, his voice sounds like petroleum jelly to me. I'm not sure how Jason Castro survived so long and why did they get rid of Carly.

And David Cook rocks! He's absolutely the best. He's creative, original, and his hoarse voice reminds me of so many excellent singers, yet he's like none of them. But the one singer that comes to my mind when I hear and see David Cook is Bruce Springsteen, the Boss.

I love the guy. And let me tell you. David Cook already won the competition. The reason is simple. Every record company with minimal understanding would realize right away: David Cook is the type of singer who can fill up stadiums, and sell millions of CDs. David Cook is it. David Cook is the type of singer that will cause even me, at 45, to stand in line at Ticketmaster at dawn, just to make sure I can secure a concert ticket. (I know people don't do that anymore, but I absolutely did). If nobody has done so already, this may be a good time: get this guy a contract, and let me know when I can download...

Go for it David Cook. I've been watching this ridiculous show and rooting for you!

Posted at 03:35PM May 10, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[1]

Tuesday May 06, 2008

Israel Memorial Day - Remembering and Hoping

It's the eve of Memorial Day in Israel. And attending the ceremony at the Israeli embassy, I was swept at once, unprepared, to the past. To my own past, but most importantly to the nation's. An old nation, continuously embattled, persecuted and tortured. For thousands of years. Relentlessly, brutally, globally. A surviving nation. A nation who miraculously collected itself from the ashes, from the burial areas, from everywhere to claim it's tiny, resourceless, wasteland - the country of Israel.

My father was born in Jerusalem, to a family who lived in Jerusalem and in Hebron for generations. My grandmother was born in Turkey, one of the countries that welcomed the deported Jews from Spain in 1492. My mother survived the death camps in Eastern Europe. Where the Germans, the enlightened people of their time, performed the chilling job of actually trying to erase a people.

In 1948 the State of Israel was born. It was little, it had practically nothing - no military, no economy, no resources. All it had back then was a dream. To live peacefully in a place where there's no persecution, where there's no antisemitism, where everyone who doesn't like Jews, simply isn't there. It was a dream indeed. The day after the first Independence Day Israel was attacked viciously, from all directions, by much stronger, organized, well equipped military forces of its not-so-neighborly neighbors.

Israel survived. The price was thousands of dead. Thousands of people, many of whom only spent weeks, sometimes days in the country. People who have lost everything in the place where they came from. People with inferior or no military training, with little clothes, little equipment and rationed munitions.

Since 1948 until now, sixty years, Israel has collected many inventions, Nobel Laureates, world leading technologies, and dead. Particularly young dead. The best ones. Today, we remembered them all.

When Colonel Yossi Engler-Sher started the ceremony, I felt a knot in my stomach. When he read David's Zeal (see below), the song King David sang for his best friend Jonathan who was killed in combat, I felt that my breathing was getting out of order. When Orly and Anya sang the "Song of Camaraderie" I was starting to silently weep. When Dorit, my wife, read "The Order of the Fallen", I believe it was pretty obvious that I was already crying. Not shedding tears. I was crying.

So I asked myself why. Why was I crying? And I had at least a few answers. For one, I remembered. I remembered faces of friends who lost their lives in battle. Friends who shall remain forever young, whose looks and lives are static, and burned in memories, albums and tombstones. I remembered the ones whom I never knew, yet I was indebted to, for giving me the chance to live. Those who lost the chance to reproduce, to whom I owe the joy I get from watching my children grow every day. I was flooded with memories, and they rushed to my eyes in the form of tears.

The other reason was my children. The Israeli Ambassador to China, Mr. Amos Nadai, spoke about his parents' generation who vowed to make peace, so that his generation doesn't have to go through the unbelievable experience of losing a child. And failed. And the fact that his generation failed again, and that the next generation, my own, is still frequenting the military cemeteries, vowing that our children will never have to. And then I thought of Guy, my son. And that was a trigger for future memories to rush into my eyes.

And of course, the frustration, and possibly the realization, that a peace in the Middle East is most likely impossible. It's as if we were sentenced to eternal life with unnatural death built into it. I can't get over it.

So tomorrow is Memorial Day. Awkwardly, the next day is Israel's Independence Day. For many families, it's two days of hell, followed by another 363 days of misery. Death is apparently associated with independence. Does it have to?

Mr. Ambassador, Yossi, Riki, Sharon, Dorit and everyone else whose name I don't know - thank you putting together this Memorial Day evening. It was unforgettable.

I remember you all. I'm grateful to you all. Your departure allowed my presence here. It's something I remember every day. It won't help you, or your families. But I thought you'd like to know. If it were to be the other way around, and it could easily, I would have liked to know.

King David, in my mind, was the greatest poet that ever lived. He wrote a poem for the death of King Saul, and his son Jonathan, David's best friend. The English translation can be found here.

יז וַיְקֹנֵן דָּוִד אֶת-הַקִּינָה הַזֹּאת עַל-שָׁאוּל וְעַל-יְהוֹנָתָן בְּנוֹ. יח וַיֹּאמֶר לְלַמֵּד בְּנֵי-יְהוּדָה קָשֶׁת הִנֵּה כְתוּבָה עַל-סֵפֶר הַיָּשָׁר. יט הַצְּבִי יִשְׂרָאֵל עַל-בָּמוֹתֶיךָ חָלָל אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבּוֹרִים. כ אַל-תַּגִּידוּ בְגַת אַל-תְּבַשְּׂרוּ בְּחוּצֹת אַשְׁקְלוֹן פֶּן-תִּשְׂמַחְנָה בְּנוֹת פְּלִשְׁתִּים פֶּן-תַּעֲלֹזְנָה בְּנוֹת הָעֲרֵלִים. כא הָרֵי בַגִּלְבֹּעַ אַל-טַל וְאַל-מָטָר עֲלֵיכֶם וּשְׂדֵי תְרוּמֹת כִּי שָׁם נִגְעַל מָגֵן גִּבּוֹרִים מָגֵן שָׁאוּל בְּלִי מָשִׁיחַ בַּשָּׁמֶן. כב מִדַּם חֲלָלִים מֵחֵלֶב גִּבּוֹרִים קֶשֶׁת יְהוֹנָתָן לֹא נָשׂוֹג אָחוֹר וְחֶרֶב שָׁאוּל לֹא תָשׁוּב רֵיקָם. כג שָׁאוּל וִיהוֹנָתָן הַנֶּאֱהָבִים וְהַנְּעִימִם בְּחַיֵּיהֶם וּבְמוֹתָם לֹא נִפְרָדוּ מִנְּשָׁרִים קַלּוּ מֵאֲרָיוֹת גָּבֵרוּ. כד בְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל-שָׁאוּל בְּכֶינָה הַמַּלְבִּשְׁכֶם שָׁנִי עִם-עֲדָנִים הַמַּעֲלֶה עֲדִי זָהָב עַל לְבוּשְׁכֶן. כה אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבֹּרִים בְּתוֹךְ הַמִּלְחָמָה יְהוֹנָתָן עַל-בָּמוֹתֶיךָ חָלָל. כו צַר-לִי עָלֶיךָ אָחִי יְהוֹנָתָן נָעַמְתָּ לִּי מְאֹד נִפְלְאַתָה אַהֲבָתְךָ לִי מֵאַהֲבַת נָשִׁים. כז אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבּוֹרִים וַיֹּאבְדוּ כְּלֵי מִלְחָמָה

Posted at 10:49PM May 06, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[0]

Sunday May 04, 2008

Trip to the Heart of China - Xi-An: Where it All Started

This post is going to have the word "surprisingly" very often. The fact that I use the word so often isn't due to my really low expectations compare to the reasonable results. More often than not, it would relate to the reasonable expectations compared to outstanding results. Bear with me, if you go to Xi-An, the ancient Chinese city, close to the mountain range which separates North and South China, you may find a tip or two which could actually change your experience to the better.

We wanted to go to Xi-An long ago. For some reason, we never got around to actually do it until this week, the May Day Holiday in China. This time we were determined to go. When we sat down to plan the trip, we considered, for the first time, taking a train. The Z19 train goes directly from Beijing West to Xi-An non-stop. The Z20 goes back. Express train, non-stop. We decided to take our chances, we didn't regret it.

In Beijing, we've met a much younger couple, Itay and Galia and their two cute children Yinon and Roi. Dorit told Galia we were planning a trip, and before long, and to our great pleasure, this had turned into our first two-family-trips in China.

Here's the deal. When you plan a train trip in China, you must take into account the following inconvenience. Tickets go on sale roughly ten days before the actual trip, not before. One more thing. You can't purchase the return tickets in the city of origin, you can only purchase them when you're already at your destination. So here's what we have done. We paid a travel agency, with branches in Beijing and Xi-An, to purchase the tickets for us. We chose the sleeper cars, four beds per car. The hotel (Shangri-La) was booked at ctrip.com. We left for the trip on April 31.

The train station is huge. Beijing West is the largest in China, and apparently it sends 300,000 people on their way daily. It's relatively well organized, and welcoming even to the non-Chinese speaker or reader.

The train left the platform on time (9:24). Not a minute late. Here's the first surprisingly. The room was small, as expected, but surprisingly (2) comfortable and functional. The bunks were reasonably comfortable, and there were four personal TV sets for each bed. Shiri and Guy were ready to go to sleep shortly after departure, and both slept through the night. With the exception of about a dozen American kids who, with the help of quite a few six packs of Tsingtao beer, made a lot of noise and disturbed the rest of the travelers, the night went uneventful. The Americans, repeatedly asked by train crew and others to lower it down some, eventually went into the coma associated with large amounts of beer, and went to sleep. The train crew showed up in the morning and took out a surprising (3) amount of empty bottles.

We arrived on time, and were surprisingly (4) well rested and ready to go. It was a pleasant trip.

If you travel to Xi-Am from Beijing, taking the night train is a good choice. It's comfortable, it will save you an average of about $100.00 per person each way on the actual trip, plus a hotel night... Not a bad deal. Tips: purchase the tickets from a travel agent, the service fee is not bad, plus you get the tickets for the trip back home (some may think I might be too hung on having all legs of the trip upfront, what can I say, that's me).

The train station in Xi-An is a lot smaller, but still big, compare to the tiny train station in Tel Aviv. Taxis are pretty available, and the taxi rate is cheaper. The Shangri-La, upon arrival, not only checked us in at 10:00 in the morning, but also offered us an upgrade to its Horizon Club. The difference was as follows: the Horizon Club room includes a free breakfast for all, free network (WiFi or wired), access to the Horizon Club lounge (a great perk) and on top of all this - a late check-out time (17:00). All that for the surprisingly (5) low price of RMB 400.00 (about $60.00) per day.

After depositing our stuff in the rooms, freshened up a little and went to the old city. We have visited the Old City Gate, the Drum Tower, and the Bell Tower. We're not completely sure, but at the Bell Tower, the local pickpockets showed us how surprisingly (6) effective they are. They managed to open my wife's bag, take her purse, and close the bag again. We only discovered that the purse was missing when she went into a taxi back to the hotel only to realize she was broke... Nonetheless, the old city is beautiful, the Drum Tower and the Bell Tower are spectacular. In old times, the bell would sound in the morning, after which the city wall would open up. In the afternoon, the drums would sound, and the city wall would close for the night, isolating Xi-An from the rest of the world. The city is filled with history, and for those who are interested, Xi-An was the city of emperor Qin who was the first to unite China.

We went to the local youth hostel to explore the possibilities of a trip to the Terracotta Warriors site, which is a few dozen miles out of Xi-An. We booked one, for the surprisingly (7) low price of RMB 200.00 per person (less than $30.00). The trip included a van, a driver, a tour guide, hotel pickup and drop-off, and the entrance fees for both the Terracotta Warriors site (which comes to about RMB 90.00 per person, RMB 60.00 per child), and the BanPo museum (RMB 35.00 per person, RMB 25.00 per child). Not a bad deal at all.

We first visited the Banpo museum. It was surprisingly (8) exciting. An entire civilization, which lead a matriarchal life over six thousand years ago. And we think we're smart... The site is nicely preserved, the excavated parts show the life of the village in a very nice and charming way. It was an eye opened to the pre-historic life in China.

Then we had lunch, in a regular tourist joint, well covered with t least a million small, medium, large, x-large and life-size Terracotta Warriors, made of a variety of materials starting from plaster posing as clay all the aluminum posing as bronze. A set of warriors would start at about RMB 100.00 and will eventually go for about one tenth. We bought none. Reason: the market is so flooded with this pretty relic, that it gave us no pleasure to own one. I ended up buying a real Terracotta Warrior (25 cm) at the hotel's highway robbery store, simply because it was a model I've never seen before. I loved it, and I thought it was worth the high (and non-negotiable) price.

I thought that I was so pumped up with the Terracotta Warriors that when I actually see them, it wouldn't be such a big deal. I was wrong. It was. Seeing the rows of warriors, with their different faces, postures, armor, ranks was touching. The thought that someone, well over two thousand years ago, took the time, effort, labor to make them, and invest so much creativity and art into them, only to make sure that he has an army in the afterlife, is well, amazing. I thought that he must have been a genius because nothing would support unity more than some joint projects... We were told that this project was the first well documented quality assurance project in the world. The artists whose warriors were qualified, were given freedom to leave. The artists who created unqualified warriors were simply put to death. What an incentive.

The next day was surprisingly (9) cold and rainy. We went to the Big Wild Goose Pagoda. The place is beautiful. Seven stories, many stairs, great 360 view of the town. Spectacular. Downstairs we went to the largest musical fountain in the world. Ended up at the local KFC. I know, but they did have coffee, and the kids WERE hungry...

Back to the train in the evening, for a punctual departure (not surprisingly anymore) and arrival eleven hours later. Great trip to Xi-An. If you are a foreigner living in Beijing, don't wait too long. If you're a foreigner living elsewhere, don't wait too long either...

Posted at 04:31PM May 04, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[1]

Sunday April 27, 2008

A Different, More Inclusive, Look at the Situation

More than twenty years ago, on my second year of college, I took a linear algebra class. I was fine with the vectors, the matrix multiplications, the works. But I remember clearly that one day, one of the students asked the professor, Bernard Schwartz, what do four-dimension vector mean? Professor Schwartz, not surprisingly, gave a long and very interesting answer to the question. So much so, that it changed my mind completely and formed a new perception on the observed versus the perceived and the real world (whatever that means). The answer was along the following lines.

Our world is three dimensional (yes, you can throw in time, but lets leave it alone for the time being). If, for example, someone places a pencil in front of you, you would know right away, by the shape, and the size, that it's a pencil. If that someone wanted to play a visual trick on you, and place the pencil perpendicular to your eye, so that you can only see the precise circle of the eraser (or the blade for that matter), there's a good chance that you would still know it's a pencil. The same if you were shown a cross section. Our three-dimensional eye-sight and our developed brain can overcome the cheap visual trick, and identify the object nonetheless.

But what if we only had two dimensional eye sight, like some animals? Placing that pencil in front of our eyes in different ways, may be perceived by us as a completely different phenomena. In fact, when looking at a pencil from five different directions, we may think we're actually looking at five different phenomena, with no connection whatsoever.

Same with vectors. Being a three-dimensional animals, we understand easily length, width, and depth. We can add direction and force, and even time.

But is it possible that we are actually seeing various presentations of the same phenomenon, but our limited senses indicate them to be different phenomena? I think absolutely. Does it happen that occasionally someone knows just how to look at the data and interpret it in a way that shows more than the eye can see (literally)? Yes, indeed. Just read the book Freakonomics (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freakonomics) and you'd see how many things that are apparently not connected at all, are virtually one and the same.

Now just a thought. A few phenomena are currently watched closely by the entire (media connected part of the) human race. The sub-prime crisis of the US economy (aka recession, depression, slowdown), the sudden rise in food and oil prices, terrorism as a means to accomplish a political agenda, global warming. I'm stopping at that to allow for the probable conclusion that not ALL phenomena are connected, and some are after all independent.

So lets see. The sub-prime crisis in the US caused the stock market in the US to change direction and go down. Real-estate prices are driven down as well. These are facts. The dollar has depreciated in a very significant way. Fact. Unemployment up. Consumer mood index - down. Facts. Now the speculation part.

Are the following possible outcomes of the financial crisis in the US?

People around the world who have lost fortunes in the stock market and in betting on the dollar are resorting to "lower" foods, like rice, wheat, corn and soy?
The data points that there's enough rice to feed the world. The data suggests that the rise in the prices of food is a financial one, and not a large sudden change in demand/supply chains.
OPEC proposes that increasing production of oil will not drive the prices down. The data suggests that the rise in prices of oil is also a financial one.
Huge amounts of money looking for an investment home, staying out of the real-estate and the stock market, are being redirected to the commodities market - driving the prices up? (keep in mind that deals in the commodities market must be backed with future contracts on the commodities themselves).
Energy prices have extremely increased in the last year or two making the production cost of food higher, driving prices higher (keep in mind: the growers aren't getting more money for their crops).
Interim conclusion: increased demands for basic foods, followed by increased production costs and the drought in Australia and the diversion of some corn to ethanol rather than food, followed by the new fashionable place for investment - the commodities market, have caused the price of food to skyrocket.

Is it really so far fetched? Are these phenomena connected? You bet. Will it get worse before it gets better? Probably. But hear me out on this. The short conclusion is the following: investors, looking for a new bubble (after being deprived of the high-tech one and the real-estate one) are bubbling up the commodities market with billions of dollars, driving the prices up, and on the way causing millions of people to starve. Far fetched? I think not.

What will possibly follow? Food riots? Increased terrorism - now stemming from hunger? Another bubble burst? The commodities bubble won't take much time to burst. It's far too dangerous, and volatile. It's time to think about the next bubble. Gold? Diamonds?

Are we really looking at independent phenomena? I think not. Global warming caused droughts, and diverted production of corn to ethanol. Burst of a bubble plus a serious financial crisis in American and global stock markets diverted huge amounts of money to the commodities market driving the prices up. Political unrest, food riots are starting. Connected phenomena? Absolutely.

Posted at 10:05AM Apr 27, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[0]

Sunday April 20, 2008

My Very Own Deliverance - My Personal Passover

Passover is a special holiday for the Jewish people. It's also a special holiday for me. Personally. In this holiday, the Jews remember their days of slavery in Egypt, and celebrate their deliverance followed by the glorious entry to the Promised Land after forty years of wandering around aimless in the desert. Indeed, it's a powerful story, which unfortunately has no evidence whatsoever in the amazingly well-preserved Egyptian archives. Nonetheless, it was, and still is, a defining moment in the existence of the Jewish People. There are a few symbols of the Holiday, but the one signifying the holiday most of all, is the absence of leavened bread, or "hametz", and the existence of its evil twin, the Matzo. The legend says that the Hebrews had to leave Egypt in a hurry. There was no time for their dough to rise, so they had to bake the dough before it was ready. The result was an unappealing type of cardboard, which we call "Matzo". For diet watchers it's the worst of all worlds: it's as fattening as bread, but not as palatable, and most certainly not as filling.

But very few people know what it means for an observant Jew to prepare for the Holiday of Passover. In fact, slavery seems quite appealing, if you really want to prepare for the Passover the way some truly observant ultra-orthodox Jews do.

Let's start even before the Holiday. Long before the holiday. Many Jews would only eat wheat which was "observed", or "guarded" from last year's crops. It's called "Matzo Shmura" or "guarded Matzo". In short it means that no leavened dough came anywhere near this flour, and that it's completely kosher for Passover. The water used for the making of this "guarded Matzo"" is called "our water", water that are beyond suspicion. The matzo is then baked under heavy guard, just to make sure that no leavened bread comes near it. The kosher security alert is raised for passover, and is at the red level, the highest possible. Everyone is under suspicion.

When the holiday comes close, a month before the middle of Nissan (around late March to mid April), things shift into high gear. Cows in certain dairies have their diets completely changed, so they can lose all their leavened food the natural way, before the holiday, so they can produce perfectly kosher milk for the holiday. Shelves in certain supermarkets become inaccessible, secured, covered. They are loaded with Passover food. Can't go near.

Observant Jews start the spring cleaning. This is really an understatement. A closer definition would be something like: "lets burn everything that's come in contact with leavened bread during the past year". If you have some bread crumbs in your pocket, you definitely run a high risk of being boiled or incinerated by some ultra orthodox Jew. Rabbinical committees are formed to decide which medications are to be used during the holiday, and which patients should either look for alternatives or get healthy at once. Dish washing liquids, laundry detergents, toothpastes, soap bars, are all looked at and disposed of if they are not up on par with the demands of the holiday. And it gets better every year.

When I was married to my ex-wife, I saw it first hand. Flamethrowers were used to clean the kitchen before the holiday. The walls, which initially were to be destroyed, were pardoned and sentenced to be covered with aluminum foil instead. Dishes were boiled, welded, heated to the point of melting, thrown away or put away. Special dishes were taken out of the attic, dipped in boiling water. Readied for the holiday. I was always willing to bet, that if God was watching this lunacy from wherever he is, he would have said: "guys, please guys, all I meant was for you to stay away from the goddamn bread for a few days, you have taken it way, way too far...". But God is nowhere to be found these days. Well, maybe in some caves in Afghanistan...

This wasn't the way Passover was prepared by my family when I was growing up. Sure, spring cleaning was always performed. But in a nice way. Books would be taken out, clothes taken out to air. We always found stuff we had lost over the year. But no garment was ever suspicious of malicious infestation of leaven, no book was burnt for being indicted of hosting a concealed bread crumb. It was more relaxed. And fun. As a side note - I always remember Moses and Aaron, the two large carps who were swimming in the bath tub for a couple of days before they became Gefilte Fish - or stuffed fish - for the holiday meal...

The Seder, the festive meal of the evening of the holiday, the highlight of the Holiday, was always a nice thing when I was growing up. My grandfather on my father's side would read the Haggadah - or the special prayer book recited on the eve of the holiday - in both Hebrew and Spanish, an incredible meal would be served, and the children would get real, real nice gifts for the Holiday. It would usually be over before midnight, and the kids loved it. It was fun. It was a fun way of practicing religion. True to the original instruction by God - a celebration of freedom. My grandfather on my mother's side would get drunk, and by the end of the meal was never sure what it was that we were celebrating. As I said - fun.

But at my ex-in-laws, the Seder was, in my mind anyway, nothing less than a celebration of slavery and misery, and not deliverance. It would start late, because the men were expected back from the Synagogue. The women are usually exhausted, and the children are starved. Bread eating is forbidden from the earlier hours of the day, but Matzo eating is forbidden before the ceremonial prayers. The prayers are read, and read, and discussed, and re-read, and sung, and recited, and re-recited. Matzo is not just eaten, it has to be eaten in measure. A precise measure. And the eating is done quietly. No word is spoken. When you're done eating the measure of Matzo, you're usually covered in crumbs, and your stomach filled with dust. The bitter herbs come next, and each man eats a full head of lettuce. When the ceremonial part is over, the men are stuffed with matzo and lettuce, the kids are sleeping at the table, and then dinner is served. In paper plates and plastic utensils. What a site.

The next day, the show runs precisely the same only an hour later. If it was up to me - I'd go back to Egypt. Building pyramids never hurt anyone...

So Passover is the holiday when I feel my personal liberation. I feel that I won my freedom, again. Not out of Egypt, but out of Brooklyn... The Red Sea didn't part for me, and I didn't wander around in the desert for forty years. But I was freed all the same. I celebrate Passover now, with my new family, in a relaxed way, closer probably to the original meaning of God. Don't get me wrong, I'm still an atheist, but God and I have an understanding.

Posted at 08:24AM Apr 20, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[3]

Wednesday April 16, 2008

An Alternative Passover Story

The city of Ramses was almost ready. The deadline, set for the inauguration of the new king of Egypt couldn't be missed. When the construction was falling behind, more Hebrew slaves were taken off other construction projects and diverted to Ramses. There was too much at stake. The news media from every corner of the world converged on Egypt to cover the inauguration of both the new city and the new king. Reporters, journalists, cameramen and anchors were pretty much everywhere. It was almost impossible to find parking, and hotel prices went sky high. Tent cities were put together near the pyramids, satellite dishes everywhere, like mushrooms after a rain.

The Hebrew slaves, knew that this was a wonderful opportunity to get the entire planet's attention to their misery, and figured that a well staged mutiny, close to the celebration day will capture everyone's minds and make the Egyptians look really bad. So they contacted a PR specialist, a retired wizard who insisted that his brother is hired as well, and a God. For years they trained, experimented with blood, swamp and farm animals, various kinds of insects and a lot of light and sound.

A few months before the big day, the Hebrews sent the wizard and his brother to the king. The strange looking guy with the long hair, the beard and the robes told the king that Hebrews are to be set free or else. The king found it very amusing. When Moses turned his stick into a snake, the king's own magicians did the same without delay. But Moses' snake was hungrier, so it ate the others and turned back to a stick. Moses left the palace.

A few weeks went by, and the PR specialist instructed the team to start staging their performances. The God was instructed to simply not let the Pharaoh free the Hebrews until he's been told to. So the vicious cycle had started. The Nile river turned to blood, then got infested with frogs. The media went wild. The networks started sending more senior anchormen, and was broadcasting live. Ratings for the Hebrew rebellion went through the roof. But the Pharaoh wouldn't hear of freeing the Hebrews, the God made sure of that. So it continued. Very serious lice infestation mysteriously showed up and the funny side effect was that you could have watched the evening news, with the distinguished looking anchormen, seriously delivering the news while scratching their entire body with long, wide motions.

No deliverance yet.

In the meantime, the media and the world paid no attention to the nearing inauguration of the king and the City of Ramses. The story of the strange plagues of Egypt was way more interesting. Game shows, realistic TV, even the Late Night hosts started talking of nothing else. Retired actors, rock band leaders around the world, who had no clue what being Hebrew is all about, started attending protests, writing articles and letters to the editor, throwing slurs at the Egyptians, while glorifying the Hebrews. The plan was working well. Moses and the gang showed up at the palace again, this time smug with the success of the presentation of power, and the media coverage. But the Pharaoh wouldn't budge, after all, the God was in charge of that, and he was doing a good job.

Bad animals started showing up from the desert next. But nobody really paid attention, in fact, they were attracting all the excess lice, relieving the residents of Egypt. When the plague started hitting the cattle, everyone immediately blamed the neighboring countries for deliberately infecting them with the Mad Cow disease. When the boils started appearing on the bodies of the Egyptians as well as the media, the summer heat and global warming was blamed. The Pharaoh was unimpressed. Deliverance? Give me a break. The media continued a full 24 hours coverage, live, but the anchormen, infested with lice, and covered in boil scars, started to look somewhat tired of the ordeal. The inauguration of the king and the city was promptly forgotten.

Hail followed by locusts which all got lost in the complete darkness which followed. Imagine that: reporters standing in the spotlight, everything else is pitch dark, large locusts are flying around, and the boil scars and the scratch marks still clearly visible. Ratings broke the records of the 2000 BC Olympic Games. It was a media frenzy.

Finally, following the death of the firstborns, and with a lot less people around, including quite a few reporters, the Pharaoh gave up. He ordered the Hebrews to just get the hell out of sight, and out of Egypt. They really wanted to take their time packing and organizing delegations to explore possible residence, but the media managers told them that if they don't rush out, there will be no coverage. So they quickly packed, got ready to leave. A baking fiasco made all their bread look like cardboard, which the media found mysteriously appealing. The Hebrews have left Egypt. The media forgot why it has shown up in Egypt in the first place, and went down to the Red Seashore to watch and cover the final presentation of power by the Wizard, his brother and the God.

Thousands of reluctant Hebrews were standing at the seashore, waiting for some sign. Moses raised his stick. The red sea started rising right away. But the OWTV cameraman missed the shot, so he asked Moses to repeat that motion, this time a little more gently. Moses did, and the sea rose faster. Everyone drowned.

Moral of the story: none. Well maybe one. Or more. Don't underestimate the power of the media. Don't assume that media coverage is always impartial. Don't assume that the media designation of the victim is always correct. Don't assume that the media designation of the villain is always correct either. Always doubt coincidences. Myths are powerful, but not always they are well aligned with reality.

But maybe most important of all: the media can manipulate events and to drive the outcome. But neither the media, nor the public opinion are there to understand the consequences, to deal with the results, to fix what was broken. The media assumes the "obligation to report" but denies the driving of the public opinion and therefore its influence of the turn of events and consequences. As I said before: myths are powerful, but not always are well aligned with reality.

If you are one of those who observe Passover, have a great Holiday. For those of who don't, have a great Holiday as well.

Posted at 10:03AM Apr 16, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[2]

Tuesday April 15, 2008

Children of the Sabbath

My wife has strict instructions not to forward email to me that has to do with religion, God, anything that has to do with missionary work of whatever religion. When I saw this in my mailbox, I was somewhat upset. It had all characteristics of cheap religious propaganda. But, since my wife did send it after all, I read it to the end. And then I thanked her for sending it. It touched me. It may you too... It has nothing to do with religion, it has everything to do with special children, with sensitive children. And adults as well...

Originally in Hebrew, here's my own translation, the best I could come up with. It didn't have credits. I looked it up, and found none on the web either. If it's yours, just say so and I'd be happy to add the credits. Thank you for touching...

Here it is:

I've been stuttering since I was four. When I was a child I stuttered a lot, to the point of losing the ability to speak at times. Besides this impediment, I was a very active kid, I had many friends, I was an excellent athlete, and a good student too. In short, I was quite a happy child. Yet, in every fight, every time someone wanted to hurt me bad, they always used the obvious: stuttering was always there for everyone to see. It always worked. Every single time.

One day, when I was six, I came home crying. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just kept crying. In the evening, my Dad came from work, my mother told him that I wouldn't talk to anyone, and that I was crying hard since I came back from school. My father came into my room and asked me what happened. I didn't answer. He asked again. I didn't answer again. Finally I told him that I hated God. I think he took it pretty hard...

In the morning, my father woke me up with a story:

Up in the sky, he said, there's a huge baby factory. All the angels work around the clock, manufacturing babies for the entire world. The pressure is enormous to meet the deadlines. They receive orders from China, Japan, America, Europe and Africa. even Australia.

There's a lot of work, and little time, and everything must be precise. The angels have special recipes for the creation of all kinds of children. There's brain material, beauty material, height material. There are raw materials for good traits, and raw materials for bad traits. Everything is precise. There are huge machines, the size of an entire room...

The angels work hard every day. Dawn to dusk. No breaks almost. Taking turns sleeping, and eating while standing up. All week long.

And then, on Friday, just before noon, a gentle bell rings. The angels turn the machines off, they turn off the lights at the factory, and they start getting ready for the Sabbath.

Every angel takes a hot shower, and then they all take a a nap. Just before the Friday night meal, the angels put on special wings, a glowing halo, and white robes. God prepares the meal, it is filling and tasty as it is beautiful. The angels tell stories, God does too. Everybody is busy singing and dancing. Then everyone clams down and they all go to sleep. After all, they are tired from a full week of hard work. In the morning, they sleep in...

God, though, isn't sleeping. God doesn't work on the Sabbath. He doesn't make rain or shine, peace or war. He doesn't make decisions or calls meetings. Everything is automatic. He's bored...

So God sneaks out, when nobody looks, to the baby factory. He collects leftover raw materials from the angels' workbenches, walks over to a corner, and prepares a child. On his own. And when God does something, he does it the best possible way. No recipe, no plan, but wholeheartedly. So he puts in more brains, more beauty, more personality. He only puts in good traits. But then, God realizes, that he has created a child too perfect. And he realizes that he can't send a too perfect child into the world. Everyone would know right away that he's been made by God.

So he creates a small imperfection. Unimportant, negligible... One of the children is a little short, the other is has a slight limp. One is cross eyed, and the other, well is stuttering.

Those kids are called the Children of the Sabbath. And you Michael, my father said, you are one of them...

Every time you see a child with a slight limp, a little cross eyed, a little short, or fat, or stuttering - don't laugh, he may be a Child of the Sabbath. He may have been created by God Himself...

Posted at 03:16PM Apr 15, 2008 by Amiram Hayardeny in Personal | Comments[1]

Monday April 14, 2008

Celine Dion in Beijing - What a Show!!!

Celine Dion was coming to Beijing. Big ads were placed in the expat magazines, and I'm sure elsewhere. I have to admit, that with one exception - the Titanic theme song - I'm not exactly familiar with Celine Dion's work. I am, however, familiar with her great voice, polished performances, but more from the occasional Oprah's show sightings at home, than from the viewpoint of a fan. But when a global, entertainment figure such as Celine Dion comes to town, I get tickets, I dress up, I get a babysitter and off we go to the concert. From previous experience I learned that even if you aren't familiar with the material, even if you don't like the genre, a concert is still plenty of fun.

We didn't get the most expensive tickets, nor the cheapest ones. We bought the tickets which would have gotten us close enough to stage center, while avoiding taking a second mortgage to finance them. We were excited.

My wife and I don't go out so much anymore. I'm not sure whether it's the age, the small children, Beijing. In any case, this outing would have been an exception. To the point that our nine year old was pre-occupied with it most of the day.

Anyway. April 13 came. The babysitter showed up on time. The kids were already washed and wearing pajamas. We were washed and dressed up. We were ready to go. Then came a phone call. The friend on the other side of the line, whom we were to go to the concert with, informed us that the concert was canceled. We doubted, check the web, confirmed, mourned, and then started to question the refunds. Since we were already dressed up, the kids sufficiently upset that we were leaving them alone, in the dark, with a familiar stranger... we had to go somewhere. First order of business: trying to get a refund.

As a side note I would state that I was extremely surprised on multiple levels. At first I thought that Celine Dion was protesting the Tibet situation with the Chinese government. That proved wrong. In fact, Celine Dion stated that she supports the Olympic Games, and she actually DID perform in Shanghai just a few days prior to the scheduled Beijing concert. I then found out that she was worried that the frequent "sand storms" of Beijing (maybe a better word for pollution) will harm her voice. Indeed, I question the reason simply because the venue was known months in advance, at least by the time we purchased our own tickets...

So we get into the car, and head to the Worker's Stadium, a major landmark of Beijing. Trying to lower expectations, I offered to my wife that chances are we will not see money back. At all. She started to warm up the engines. I said, listen, it will take time, negotiations, and some running around to get the money back. Don't sweat it. Paying cash has its advantages and disadvantages. But she wasn't listening. She was already planning moves, shining armors, sharpening teeth and swords and words.

We arrived at the Workers Stadium, wandered about for a few minutes, until someone directed us to the box office. The area was fenced, with quite a few security guards walking the area. When we entered, an attendant took our tickets, verified their authenticity, filled up a few forms, had us sign them and sent us on our way to the cashier. We were out of there with the entire refund (nothing retained for 'shipping and handling'), in a matter of three minutes at most. I was floored. So was my wife, who now was all wired up for nothing...

So, we didn't see a concert, but we most certainly saw an amazing show of customer care, effectiveness and efficiency in defusing a potentially volatile situation.

Celine, I was not much of a fan before. I am now. Nothing to do with entertainment or voice. Everything to do with business.