Salmon cakes again

The first time (and only time so far) I made breaded salmon cakes for the family was last fall, and it resulted in severe frowning from big one, and a complete refusal from the small one. The cakes were mild and tasty and not at all "fishy", so it was all a matter of exercising power. Today we made them again, this time with sweet potatoes instead of regular potatoes, and they were covered with crumbs and sesame seeds! Delicious! The big one even looked optimistic while he watched us in the kitchen and he finished two cakes without any fuss, and the small one finished one, although accompanied by some whining, and a lot of determination from us. Sometimes it is only a matter of giving it some time and work on other things, and then things seem to fall into place by themselves.

Sedulous wins...

... or shame on him who gives up!

Happy boys with a mountain of pancakes!

About two years ago I moved in with a four years old and an eight years old, who never had eaten anything else but white bread, white pasta, breaded schnitzel, burekas, Bamba and Bissli. We took off on a bumpy journey together, since I have different ideas about food than they were used to. We have taken baby steps, blended with a lot of friction, and had periods when the little one refused all food, period. Their father also saw the need for a change and we fought the battle together, sometimes with frustration, but with as much wisdom and patience as we could bring forward.

For a long while we were stagnated at a few vegetables, tuna, fish schnitzel (containing mostly soy), egg and an occasional fruit, but I wanted to introduce more veggies, more fruits and berries, and above all more fish. Canned tuna, with all due respect, is not a sufficient source of omega-3, and I dreamed of getting them to eat salmon. Maybe 6 month ago, I made delicious salmon cakes ones, which the big one tasted, but rejected, while the little one refused to even look at them. That was a loss that I grieved.

Nowadays they both are very interested in what is healthy and not, and our meals often involve discussions about food and health. They also see their father and me eat with a good appetite and filled with joy, and also that we prefer natural and healthy foods. The other evening we had bought a small jar of pickled herring and a jar with fresh mackerel in oil. Only for the two of us, of course. No unrealistic expectations here! Imagine our surprise when Junior wanted to taste the herring! And he found it tasty, and had a few more bites! Me and Yoram were sitting with our jaws down on the table.

A few days later, last Friday, Yoram said, let's make salmon for everybody. We had recently bought 3 kg of Norwegian salmon from our local fish dealer, and we took out an appropriate piece from the freezer. No attempts to hide anything, we just cut it into mouth-piece chunks and fried it with sesame oil, teriyaki sauce, ginger, garlic and sweet pepper. On the side we had fried potatoes. Delicious, juicy and a little sweet. We put potatoes and merely a few pieces of fish on each plate to not overwhelm the kids, and now it was time to drop our jaws once more. Initially, we had to encourage them slightly, but the big one took a piece of salmon to his mouth, and here the wonder happened. His face broke out into a big smile, that for us was worth a thousand bucks! To his surprise it was actually very tasty. They both finished their plates, and we felt more accomplished than ever before.

Yesterday we had a BBQ quite late in the afternoon which cancelled our customary Shabbat evening pancakes. Today I am home alone with the kids and I promised to give them their pancakes today instead. They have Passover holiday and Yoram works his last day before the holiday. I asked the kids if we shouldn't do the day the other way around and eat pancakes for lunch and something more proper in the evening after their water polo. I also promised them as many pancakes as they could eat. They were hooked on the idea. Then I said that instead of only having their regular chocolate cream or honey on the pancakes, I would do two other fillings. I made one with mashed strawberries and banana and one with grated apple, cinnamon and some honey. Both of them had one pancake each of the "new" things, and the rest with chocolate or honey, and I did not mind. Just tasting the other things was more than I could have ever asked for half a year ago. I ate seven, Ziv ate six, and Gal ate five, although the two last ones went down very slowly for Junior.

We are beginning to find harmony in relation to food. Food is no longer a power tool for the kids, but instead something that brings joy and pleasure to our lives, and the kids feel the same way. We are still balancing on a fine line, but the worst obstacles have been overcome.

Hot Moroccan Tilapia

Karin in Rehovot inspired me (Swedish blog post) to make Moroccan fish, but in true Jojo tradition, I can never keep to a recipe. I just merely used it for inspiration. I planned a mild couscous that I thought would fit well balancing the spicy fish dish.

Fish:
Fry sweet pepper, fresh garlic, crushed tomatoes, paprika powder, harissa and some salt in a nice olive oil, until soft. We used Tilapia fillets (St Peter's fish) for this dish. Lay the fillets (skin up) on top of the sauce and let it simmer under a lid until the fish is cooked. Add the coriander during the last few minutes. We used canned crushed tomatoes, for the simple reason that the large tomatoes in the supermarket were pale and unattractive. If not, I think that I would have scolded and peeled fresh tomatoes. You can also use fresh chili, but we bought harissa, which also brings some sourness (it contains vinegar) into the composition. It worked out very well.

Couscous:
Wet the couscous with some hot bullion, after taste. We actually used chicken/vegetable bullion! Fry the onion in (real!) butter and add the spinach. Add some salt if the butter is without salt. Mix the couscous with the spinach/onion. Add pine nuts that have been slightly roasted in a dry pan.

A musty red wine is appropriate to a spicy dish like this!

Both dishes (Click to enlarge)

A small step for man...

One lunch last week I boldly prepared a sauce to serve with the spaghetti for the kids. During my 37 years I don't think that I ever met a kid who did not appreciate a nice tomato sauce on their spaghetti. That was until I met my two bonus boys. They loudly refuse anything that might make the food on the plate the least "wet", except for occasional uses of some sugar-saturated ketchup!

I prepared Cornelius' tomato sauce, which is as famous and delicious, as it is simple. To make it more approachable for the kids, I passed it in the blender into an orange-red creamy and smooth sauce. I poured it over the spaghetti and mixed before I put up on the plates. On the side they got sliced chicken fillet, which I had fried in fresh za'atar herb, sesame seeds, some sesame oil and soy sauce.

The kids ate, and I was amazed. However, my biggest victory came a few days later, during the weekend, when Yoram tried to make a tomato sauce to serve with the pasta. He makes a more complex sauce, with more different veggies inside, but although he also passed it, the kids noticed the difference. To my surprise, the kids said that they liked my sauce better, which is probably the first time they ever gave credits to my food like that. The biological parents food is always the best, of course, and in particular Mum's food. Yoram looked a bit stunned, but I just sucked it in.

Fish fingers

I miss the Swedish fish fingers. Of course I prefer buying fresh fish and prepare it myself, but that is somewhat an acquired taste for many kids. At least for kids who hardly ever got fish in any shape. Since I know how important the fish oil is, with its omega-3 fatty acids, I am doing my best to get the kids to eat at least some fish, in some shape. They eat canned tuna, but considering how lean the tuna meat it, there is no way that tuna can cover the required intake of omega-3. Salmon, Mackerel and Sardines would have been swell to get them to eat, but I can only dream of that. The white fish in the fish fingers is not that oily, but whatever it better than nothing.

Crispy breading and white fish filet

Then over to the Israeli fish fingers. The interior of these fish fingers mainly contain soy meal and a minimal amount of fish, merely for flavour. Then what's the point? They hardly taste fish either. At least the kids eat them. After buying the fingers for a while, I tried with some larger fish schnitzels with sesame seeds on the breading and they actually taste more fish, but still do not consist of fish alone. Even the cheapest Swedish fish fingers contain around 50% fish, including the breading. The nicest ones are even made from whole pieces of filet. How small the amount is in the Israeli ones, I don't even want to think about.

The Original... ;)

B1

Finally! Today I got my first visa with a working permit - a B1 visa. But, there is no end to how recalcitrant the process is, and how contradictory the treatment can be from one clerk to another. Because, of course, you do not have your personal clerk. Every time there is a new tight-up woman with bleached hair and too much makeup on, sitting behind the glass shield. When we were there two weeks ago, we brought, except for the wedding certificate, pictures from the wedding, but our clerk for the day said that they were not necessary, since we had previously delivered a whole bunch of other pictures.

Today we came back with our last declaration, signed and stamped by Yoram's lawyer and then of course the bitch of the day asked for the damn wedding pictures! However, we talked ourselves out of it. Yoram even offered her to look in our Facebook acounts, but she rejected the offer. We promised to bring the wedding pictures next time, which will be in six months.

Now I have a permit to work for six months, but no other rights. No social security, no nothing. This means, still no baby plans. Maternity care would be scandalously expensive before I have general social security. In the end of April 2011 we will have to bring another suitcase full of proof that we actually live our lives together, as well as answering personal questions about one another in individual interviews. After that I will get a A5 visa (temporary residency), which includes ID card (Teudat Zehut) and social security (Bituach Leumi). This will have to be renewed annually for four years, and after that I can apply for Israeli citizenship.

So...

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Getting your foot in the door of the agricultural business appears to be like entering Fort Knox, so I have no high hopes for that. On the other hand, freelancing from home suits me fine at the moment. I need a little income to give me freedom to develop other ideas and dreams I have, like home-made beer and cheese, as well as the saffron cultivation. When the latter happens, at least no one can blame me for wasting my education.

If someone wants me to tune their riding horse a little bit, or help them to develop their own riding skills, I would be happy to help with that too.

Now I seem desperate. Enough!

Touchy milk

I already killed my first yoghurt. The two first batches were so successful that the self-confidence went over my head. I did two mistakes with my third batch:

1. I overheated the milk slightly in the pasteurisation phase and it almost came to a boil. This denatures and degrades the proteins in the milk, which affects both the setting of the yoghurt, and the texture.
2. I waited for too many days before I inoculated a new yoghurt from the second batch. It was almost the last drops from that batch that I used, and although that yoghurt was very tangy, most of the yoghurt culture was probably not viable anymore.

After the evening in the warm water bath, and the overnight slowly cooling down, the milk had still not set. Since the bottle was hermetic, I heated up the water bath again for a few hours and then the yoghurt seemed to set. However, as I finally opened the bottle, the yoghurt was somewhat slimy and stringy, and without much of a tanginess. Nevertheless, I put it in the fridge up until today, and the tanginess has started to increase, but the consistency is not really that appealing. Anyway, there is nothing dangerous about it, so instead of serving as a breakfast yoghurt, I have used it to strain off into a labaneh, and I hope that it will turn out well. It might be that the sliminess makes it harder to drain through the cheese cloth. We will just have to see.

Yesterday I was a bit grumpy about it for a few hours, but then I accepted my defeat and learned from the lesson. Next batch of milk will be inoculated with a newly bought yoghurt culture, to be on the safe side. Then my challenge starts all over again.

Great breakfast

My second batch of goat-milk yoghurt turned out even better than the first one. The first one was inoculated with standardised cow-milk yoghurt, while the second one was inoculated with the leftovers from the first batch of my own. That is also how it will continue from now on. Before one batch is finished, we get new milk and set up a new batch. In that way, the same yoghurt culture can live on forever. I realise that keeping it as long as possible will be something I take a little pride in.

After one day inoculating in a warm waterbath and then two days in the fridge, the yoghurt I poured up for breakfast today was almost too thick to exit the bottle, with a full and rich acidity. As far as I have understood it is more difficult to get goat-milk yoghurt to thicken, but I do not seem to have a problem with that at all.

I put fresh pomegranate seeds, linseeds and pecan nuts in my yoghurt today. The pecan nuts are from the 2009 harvest, and I just realised that we need to finish them off to leave room for the 2010 harvest that is coming up in a months time. Nuts are really an amazing food. The shelf life of nuts with the shells remaining intact are almost eternal, and the nuts inside are small bombs of nutrients. One of natures great inventions!

Home-made goat milk yoghurt

2 litres of home-made yoghurt from goat milk

I notice now that I never shared it on this blog, but I did buy rennet when I was in Sweden, and after we returned home, I made a few batches of cottage cheese, from standardised milk. However, the tiny yield that you get from 1 litre of milk, in relation to the amount of labour and what you pay for the milk, makes it far from sustainable to make your own cottage cheese. It was more of a quaint experience to experiment a little bit with cheese making before I move on to some more complex cheese-making.

Instead of playing with standardised cow milk, I have now moved over to getting acquainted with the goat milk. Milk from different animals have different compositions and properties, therefore each and every one of them requires individual measures in the handling. Even milk from the same species will differ according to under which condition the animals live, what they eat, and so on. And, dairy products from goat milk are really, really healthy. And tasty! It is easier to digest (even for babies), due to a higher level of medium-chain fatty acids, compared to cow milk. Furthermore, almost half of people who are lactose intolerant are able to drink goat milk. Goat milk also contains more vitamin A. Cow milk instead contains precursors to vitamin A, called carotenoids. These must be turned into vitamin A in the body after ingesting the milk. The carotenoids are what makes butter and cheese from cow milk yellow, and the lack thereof in the goat milk is why all goat products remain white. Goat milk also contains more riboflavin (vitamin B2) than cow milk.

Two minutes from here, there is a big goat farm. They sell most of their milk to dairies, who I guess make dairy products like goat cheese, or possibly labaneh. It is not that common with goat milk or fresh goat yoghurt in the supermarkets. We can also go there and buy fresh, unpasteurised goat milk, basically straight from the udder. Just bring your own container and 7 ILS per litre.

Handling unpasteurised milk is a sensitive matter, and unless you are milking your own animals, and can control the hygiene during all steps, a brief pasteurisation is recommended. When the milk is still in the udder, it is free from bacteria (as long as the animal is healthy), but as soon as it passes the nipples, bacteria are added to the milk, mostly lactic acid bacteria. These are the good guys, that under optimal conditions will eliminate harmful bacteria, and later turn the milk into yoghurt. However, if the milk has been cooled down before pasteurisation, the activity of the lactic acid bacteria has slowed down, to the benefit of harmful bacteria, such as E. coli bacteria and other cryophilic (cold-tolerant) bacteria. In this case, the milk needs to be heated up to a temperature where these bacteria die, and after that you add a new culture of lactic acid bacteria to create your yoghurt.

Alas, I could not rely on the naturally occurring lactic acid bacteria in this milk, since it had been somewhat cooled down. I heated it up slowly to approximately 70 degrees and kept it there for a few minutes, and then poured it over on a clean glass bottle. I put it in the fridge to cool it down quicker, but checked it regularly so the temperature did not sink below 45-50 degrees. When I could barely hold the bottle, I added one cup of yoghurt (standardised cow-milk yoghurt), and closed the bottle again. Then the bottle was kept in a water bath, to keep the temperature around 45 degrees. I refilled with warm water for a few hours and then let it stay over night, and cool down by itself. This morning I could see that the yoghurt had already set, but now it needs another day in the fridge before consumption. One litre will go with our breakfast granola, and the other litre will become labaneh.

Making yoghurt from this goat milk is definitely sustainable. The standardised cow-milk yoghurt that we normally buy from the supermarket cost about 25 ILS for 3 litres. Here you get two litres for 14 ILS, and the work load is not heavy at all. You neither need to buy yoghurt culture, since you use a small amount of the previous yoghurt to inoculate each new batch.

Maybe I will try to do some cottage cheese from this goat milk, but my final goal is to start making more refined types of cheese. I will probably start with feta-type cheese, that will ripen in brine, or some mold-inoculated cheese ripened in oil, both of which are easy to mature in a regular household. Cheeses that need to mature "on shelf" are not that easy since it is difficult to adjust temperature and humidity in the air, unless you have a climate chamber. The mold culture I will just harvest from any of the excellent goat cheeses that are available around here. Making matured cheese from milk bought for 7 ILS per litre is neither particularly sustainable, but the feeling of achievement is much higher than after cooking together a batch of cottage cheese, and besides, one day we hope to have one or a few does to milk for ourselves, and then you can really start talking sustainability. Now it is only training and preparation. And a lot of fun!

Three days of retreat in heaven

I love camping in the nature. For me, it is a spiritual retreat, just as valuable as any retreat arranged by practitioners of yoga, meditation or any other movement. Or an aikido retreat for that matter. So, when I go camping, I prefer it to be in a secluded location, far away from noisy and littering tourists. We got many tips about locations from different friends, and we also looked around last time we went to the North. We ended up close to the Lebanese border, somewhere behind the kibbutzim Daphna and Dan. It was a bit tricky to find our way in to where we had planned to settle, but suddenly we reached the river, deep into an avocado grove.

Yoram stopped at the first spot we saw and claimed that it was perfect. There were no shadow over the minimal entry to the water and in the middle of the spot there were big irrigation tubes. I refused. Yoram was almost exploding, but I insisted that we moved on. 200 metres away we found our home. Of course he would never admit that it was worth doing that last drive, but deep down he was happy for it. The entry was small and inside a lovely zula opened up, with a perfect corner for the tent and a fire place waiting to be lit. There was a big tree in the middle and as you stepped over its big roots you stepped down in the cooling crystal-clear water.

The crystal-clear cooling water

We brought everything we needed from home, except for two huge trouts that we bought from kibbutz Dan. They became our first dinner, together with marinated and grilled mushrooms and a broccoli salad. The fish was seasoned with a spicy fish mix and dried thyme before it was grilled to perfection. Not too raw, not too dry. Juicy and soft. When the fish was ready we had already eaten the mushrooms and the salad, and we sat down and devoured one family-sized trout each.

Trouts from kibbutz Dan

Grilled to perfection

Right now the days and nights are practically 12+12 hours long, with sunsets and sunrises as fast as hitting a switch on the wall. The longer you live in nature under those conditions, the more you adapt to a natural day/night rhythm, sleeping when it is dark, waking up when the sun rises. We were only there over two nights, but already the first evening we went to bed somewhere just after 21.00. But before that we took a walk in the pitch-black night, only with the guidance from our head-lights. Next morning I awoke at 5.30, and got up to imbibe the early morning atmosphere. I took the dogs for a stroll down the avocado grove, and although the harvesting season has not started yet, it is merely around the corner, I found some fruits that had fallen down on the ground.

Sunrise just before 6.00 a.m.

Almost ripe avocados on a tree

"Good morning, Daddy!"

I went back to the tent to greet my husband as he awoke, and we made coffee in the finjan. The avocados were not perfectly ripe, but good enough to make an avocado salad for breakfast, with boiled eggs, some onion and spices. We spent a lot of time reading books. Yoram read a history book and I read a book about natural childbirth (No, I am not pregnant.). The dogs were mucking around according to their own needs and desires, and Goshen spent more time in the water than out of it. It was so funny to hear her as she descended. She really reminded me of a human, as she made a deep grunting sound from the sensation of the cold water. The cold water also assisted us keeping the beers cold. We tied them to a rope so they hang just beneath the water surface, with the cork sticking out of the water.

In the afternoon it was time to start with the poyke. One day before we left for the camping I said to Yoram "What do you say about buying a poyke?". He agreed, and it turned out to be the best buy we have made, and will make, in a very long time. I will never go camping without my poyke, ever again. You get a full meal, and most of the ingredients, like vegetables, oil and spices, have no problem with a few days in warm temperature. The only sensitive ingredient was the meat, but we brought it directly from the freezer into an ice box, together with some other stuff, and that ice box actually contained ice all the way until it was time to go home on the third day, in spite of the hot weather.

My beloved poyke making its wonders

with the things we put in him

Our poyke stew contained these ingredients, which were added in mentioned order: oil, chuck steak, rosemary, mixed red/green/black pepper, paprika powder, mineral salt, thyme, garlic cloves, red wine, water, sweet potatoes, Jerusalem artichoke, onion, fresh chili, beans in tomato sauce, sweet peas, and chopped parsley.

Stew under way!

Our poyke stew fed us three times. Once in the afternoon, when it was ready, second time for a late evening snack, and the last morning we added some water and put it back on the fire to give us a thick and full-bodied soup to dip our pitot in. When it was empty, I brought it with me down in the water and scraped the last left-overs out of it, and then let it dry in the sun. After we came home, I cleaned it once more with warm water, and then greased it with oil to prevent rust. I love my poyke!

The water was cold. Well, with Swedish measures it was like just before it hits the maximum temperatures possible in Swedish summer waters, i.e. around 20 degrees. It was not meant for long swims, but nevertheless, the hot weather motivated us to regular dips in the refreshing water. It was also clear. Unless you stirred the bottom up, you could see everything. We did not see much fish, but I found a cute crab that I to Yoram's horror picked up. This guy was not big enough to eat, but normally I love crab meat. Yoram on the other hand, has sworn to never eat crab in his whole life, and it has nothing to do with kashrut or not. Obviously he already forgot that our first meal when we arrived to Sweden for our wedding, was a king crab cocktail and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

Cooling down

Cute little fellow

Both dogs were running freely when we were awake, but for the night, we put Barak on a leash long enough to reach around our little bower. He is too territorial to let run loose unsupervised. During the second night there were some people walking on the road at some point, and Barak did exactly what he is supposed to, he gave two-three low-pitched barks that said "Please, stay away from here! I am guarding my family!". Instead, he slept a lot during the daytime. No doubt, did we feel safe.

Our security chief

We had camped on the beach already, and that was great in its own way, but I knew already somewhere deep down that I would love this setting more. It is definitely more quiet, less wind, not having sand everywhere all the time, natural shade, sweet water to clean yourself and other things in, no other people (if you make the effort to find the right place), etc.

As I said in the beginning, you need more than two-three days for the real serenity to kick in, and I hope that we will be able to do that on another occasion. I let go easier than Yoram, since I am simply more used to it already. I have felt that state, and can therefore reach there faster. Yoram is afraid of getting bored and restless, but that is part of the process of letting go. If you are bored and restless, you refuse to let go. Simple as that. We deserve laziness in our lives now and then, to regain energy and motivation. It is good for both the physical and spiritual health. On this trip we indulged ourselves in three of the Seven Cardinal Sins: lust, gluttony and sloth, of which I don't consider even one to be sinful. Only part of enjoying life.

Another natural zula we found,

with the possibility for setting up more than one tent

The cultural shackles

This story comes a few days after it happened, but the depth of the comment made by Yoram struck me a bit later. We went to the pool for a few hours on Saturday and just relaxed. No kids and a quiet day. There were quite a lot of people and just as we arrived, a family Yoram knows was just about to leave, so we waited to take over their shade and chairs. They have a boy, around two years old, who they were about to change clothes on. He was standing butt naked, but suddenly refused to put new clothes on. The parents almost looked embarrassed and asked him "Bli klum?" (Without anything?). As they left, Yoram whispered to me "That's how it starts, hu..?", and I answered "Yes, that's how it starts". The boy went to the car wearing only sandals, but I am afraid that it was a small victory. They will break the naturism out of him no later than puberty.

However, Yoram showed that he has widened his awareness of the deceptive dynamics of moral codes.

Scenic veiws, kabbalah, cheese and whining...

On Shabbat we went on a short road trip in the Galilee together with the kids and Yoram's mother. We picked her up in Karmiel where she lives, and took off. Yoram rarely tells me where we are going before departure, which both creates a pleasant sensation of surprise, and a slight frustration for not being able to prepare for getting as much possible out of the destinations.

First we went to the Druze village Peki'in were we visited Savta Gamila. Savta (grandmother in Hebrew) Gamila began as a woman started making soaps and other beauty products from pure olive oil and medicinal herbs. Today the business is commercialised, but coming to the small store in Peki'in must be as close to the original as possible. We brought some massage oils, moisturising creams and scents from there which turned out to please us more than expected.

Statue on Peki'in town square,

holding the Druze flag

Peki'in is a village that since centuries back have had Druze and Jews living peacefully together. In Peki'in you find the cave where according to tradition Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, aka Rashbi, hid from the Romans for 13 years and in the meantime wrote the famous book of Zohar, which is one of the most important scriptures in the Jewish mysticism, the Kabbalah. I consider myself being a spiritual being, but not religious. Religion, for me, is a frame-set of rules and rituals, mainly created to exercise power over the people. However, the true intention behind the actions is lost. People say their prayers and perform their ceremonies more out of fear than out of appropriate knowledge why. Mystical traditions, on the other hand, seems to focus more on the actual development of the individual soul. Kabbalah for example, provides a clear and logical terminology to describe us as human beings, our different components, and what drives them, and besides that, practical exercises to make you blossom. If you study a tradition like this, you will develop into a reasoning, balanced and sound human spirit, who is not easily duped by the religious clergy. No wonder why mystical traditions have always been banned and rubbished by the religious establishment.

The sign at the Rashbi cave

View from Peki'in

After Peki'in we drove up to another Druze village, Beit Jann. Beit Jann is situated on Mount Meron, 940 m above sea level, which makes it one of the highest points in Israel. We were driving through the narrow streets, and soon lost direction, as we often do driving through Arab villages. They have no road signs, and seem to build with no logic at all. At last we found the highest point, from where you could look out over the land below. Quite magnificent! On the way out we turned on the gps.

View from Beit Jann

On the way down we stopped by Ein Camonim, the goat farm/dairy/restaurant that I have mentioned previously. At that time Yoram was there alone with his mother and the boys, and only brought cheese back home to me. After that I promised myself that we would go there just the two of us. That was not really the case this time either. Alas, we did not sit down for a meal, but merely bought a few cheeses. This time I made Yoram promise me a day there without children and in-laws.

Goat cheese in Ein Camonim

Except for the fact that everybody but me and Yoram was complaining and whining all day long about walking too much, too much heat, and generally a too far distance to TV and computers, the day was pretty successful. Yoram promised the kids that we will never bring them on a road trip never again. Unfortunately, I do not think that he will stick to it.

Topical antibiotics

Taste the term once again. Topical antibiotics. What I see before me is thoughtless abuse and optimal conditions for the development of resistant bacteria. People do not even respect systemic antibiotics. If they get a prescription for let us say 10 days, many quit as they start to feel better, and save the left-over pills for later occasions. This does not mean that the infection is eradicated from the body. Instead the strongest and most adaptive bacteria survive, and provide the basis for future antibiotic-resistant strains. This is why, if there is a true indication for using antibiotics, you should always finish the whole prescription - down to the last pill. However, most light infections are better taken care of by our own immune system. Every infection that is naturally fought, makes you stronger and better protected. Antibiotics do not give you that benefit.

So, what about the topical antibiotics? Do you think that people are more careful with them? Of course not. In Israel the doctor sends you home with eye-drops or ear-drops containing antibiotics for the lightest infection. No specific directions on for how long to use them, or possibly "until it does not hurt anymore". This is to me insane. It is like applying some nazis on Germany to eradicate all the Jews in the whole world. It only decimates them temporarily, and instead makes the survivors stronger.

Medical marijuana in Israel

Some friends, like Assi, like to call me a hippie. Not only because I choose to see the good in people before I judge (if I judge at all). I just happen to believe that I am generally a little bit more in touch with my true nature, as well as the nature around us. I cannot understand the negative hysteria around naked bodies, and I think that processed food tastes like crap. I also happen to know that weed is not as harmful to you as the authorities in for example Sweden want to scare everybody into believing.

It is not only pleasurable to smoke some weed for recreational purposes now and then. It also has a very strong indication for medical use. 14 states in the US have legalised medical marijuana. It is prescribed to patients with terminal diseases in order to relieve pain and negative side-effects from other strong drugs, like chemotherapy. Patients with terminal cancer, or AIDS, get pain relief, but they also get an improved life quality through regained appetite, better sleep and general relaxation. Who is to decide over a dying person anyway?

Israel also has a medical marijuana program today. The company Tikun Olam grows and distributes medicinal marijuana under the good eye of the Israeli Health Ministry. Today around 1,800 people get help to relieve pain caused by various conditions. Stories like this gives me hope for this country.

One-night camping on the beach

There were quite a lot of people on the beach when we arrived, but we knew that most of them would disappear around sunset, and that was also what later happened. It was very windy, but we succeeded to get the tent up, and while we were busy doing that, Barak punctured one football and one smaller ball for some neighbours. What to do? I saw them provoke him playing with the balls in the first place, so they really did not have a case complaining about it. He loves to play with balls and has sharp teeth. That's it. These punctured balls instead kept the dog busy from that moment and on.

For dinner we grilled two huge entrecôte each, put a large spoon of garlic butter on them, and accompanied them with a Tishbi Estate Cabernet Sauvignon. Nothing else. Later we made coffee in the finjan. When the sun goes down around here, it happens very quickly, but soon the moon instead lit the surroundings enough so that we did not need any flashlight.

There was a group of people who built a camp some 20 metres away from us, in true Israeli style. Swedes camp as far away from each other as possible, for the sake of privacy, while people around here gladly sits down right in your lap although the beach is everything but crowded. When we were observing them putting their things in order, Yoram concluded that skinny-dipping now unfortunately was out of the question. Nevertheless, as the dark night covered the beach, as well as us, he suddenly surprised me by stripping butt naked and heading into the water. The moon, which was not yet full, gave just enough light to orientate yourself around your own camp, while our neighbours merely appeared in faint silhouette. We stayed without clothes all night; swimming, drinking, talking, sleeping and loving. We were sitting in our camping chairs, feeling the wind from the ocean giving some relief from the heat, while people walked by merely metres away. I think that Yoram was pretty enthralled by the experience. When we slept, all the tent windows were open, but in spite of the persisting wind, we never felt the urge to cover ourselves with anything. During all my previous holidays in other Mediterranean countries, I have never experienced such warm summer nights. The strong wind in combination with the humid air, made the sand penetrate everything, and since you never dried up, everything was more or less sandy in a sticky way. That was just something to accept and embrace.

We were awake and up already before sunrise and going back into the warm water was the first thing we did. We made coffee in the finjan and had pitot with raw tahina and sliced banana for breakfast. I had decided that we would make this trip as easy and convenient as possible, and we succeeded doing just that. No sensitive groceries and no complicated cooking that created a lot of dishes. We had a cooling box that kept water cold for us during the whole time, and that was it.

We stayed all morning and headed home around lunch. We knew that we had quite a lot of work ahead of us, washing dogs and the other things to get rid of all the sand. Although we only stayed one night, it was worth all the carrying and washing. We relaxed and turned off the mobile phone and tried to just be in the moment. I think that my husband, who previously has claimed that he spent his whole army in a tent and therefore never again, now actually has rediscovered the charm and sense of freedom it involves placing yourself on a beach for a day or more. We will do it soon again, for sure.

Sunset

Moonlight

Candle light

Sunrise

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Contemplation