Sunday, June 29, 2008

On Rooftops, in Streets, Underground

This is how the weekend began: with Shlomo and Rikky's wedding, which literally took place at the little Prince. The 24 hour cafe was closed for the evening and a catering service squeezed little white tables into its narrow, gravelly yard. a huppah was brought in a glass was broken for once outside the kitchen.

I don't think I've ever seen a bride this happy and the groom was too moved to pronounce his vows properly. Nevertheless, much of the happyness belongs to us, members of the "Prince" crowd. These two gave us the perfect party to mark this period in our lives, right where it's happening. Look how happy we are:



Don't you love it when a party pours out into the street,

And don't you completely adore it when the police arrives and the bride comes over and covinces them to just go away?

The following day I was guiding a very special group around Jerusalem: it featured my parents. In celebration of my mom's birthday they decided to recruit me as tourguide and take their friends along for the Yuval Jerusalem experience. I took them underground into St. Helen's cistern, through street rather overcrowded with Friday mobs and to the rooftop of the Austrian Hospice, where we took a group portrait (all three pictures by Rooti Hazroni).



That was not the last rooftop nor the last happy crowd for the weekend. Saturday happened to be the birthday of Renen Mosinzon, an urban shaker and maker. Renen is one face behind the creative commune at 70 hayarkon st, one that will be remembered in the city history.

I've only ever attended cinema nights at hayarkon 70, but knew of the weekly jam sessions, study groups and cummunally cooked feasts that made the place famous. Here was the chance to sniff the ferfumed air, sip the beer and even go onstage.


Here was a chance to stay late into the night,


and to go home feeling very lucky.

The weekend's sole memento mori was a powerful one. DL and I went to watch Ari Fulman's powerful Waltz with Bashir, possibly the most somber animation film ever made, a beautiful discussion of war, conscience and memory. I reccomend it strongly.

2 comments:

Theodore said...

Yuval,

I miss you very strongly,
I think of Tel Aviv everyday,
I don't know if I'll be able to come back and leave again, don't really think so, not like this.

Last night I had a dream where I was communicating with Adam, from here in my Brooklyn appartment.

We were speaking through skype, but I could see him there, leaning against the window, and I was amazed at how far technology had gone. Because, even though his physical self was over there in Tel Aviv and, with the time difference, at night and in the dark, the image I saw of him right there was beeing hit by the NY light exactly as it should of been if he was really there, in shiny afternoon rays of sun.

Then his anonymous friend was reading his literature to me, and it was understood he was doing that for his own sake, just for reading it to anybody, but he had me write it down, and it didn't matter how many mistakes I was making.

Etc.

I could go on, tell you news from here and myself, but I really felt like saying how much I would have wanted to be there with all of you at the Nasikh, how I want to be there all the time, just like when I was there.

Love. Theo.

Guy said...

The animation director in Waltz with Bashir is Yoni Goodman, our good old classmate!