Sunday, March 31, 2019

To Israel for a Bat Mitzvah

My impressions and thoughts from our 2019 trip to Israel.

Why go again? We were there as tourists six years ago and had a fantastically interesting and educational trip then.

This time, our 12-year-old grandchild Leah was to have a Bat Mitzvah on a kibbutz in Israel.

We made it into an 11-day trip.

First, a fast trip on a direct train from Ben Gurion Airport to Jerusalem. A trip that would take an hour and a half by car, took 19 minutes at over 200 km/h; Progress.

We had an Airbnb only a block away from the Jaffa gate, one of a few entrances to the walled city of Jerusalem.

It doesn’t matter what religion you adhere to, if any, this is walking on historical ground. Several “cultures” have lived there for thousands of years.

The tourist guides are all full of historical facts.

Our first view of the West Wall was from atop a nearby building.


The dome of the mosque is where the original Jewish temple was, 2,000 year ago.

We were a mixed group with me the sole man. I entered on the left side, the women all went to the much smaller right side in this photo.

I witnessed several small groups of men, celebrating the Bar Mitzvahs of some 12 or 13-year-old boys.

Rose and I meandered around the inner city for hours, watching the people and visiting both an Arabic/Moslem and a Jewish market, both greatly different in character.


A Hasidic Jew in his traditional dress at the market

Security is paramount in Israel, surrounded by warring nations.

We witnessed how two young men, low 20s in age were taken to the side. Their Paper ID’s and backpacks were crudely inspected and they both had to stand spread-eagled while searched for …? 

The police found nothing, and the young men continued on their way, seemingly unaffected by this 20-min ordeal.

The Israeli Jews don’t have a happy relationship with the Hasidic Jews, they are seen as parasites who don’t want to do service in the military or even, many of them, work.

They marry young and it was common to see an emaciated young woman, barely 18, with the mandatory wig on her head, pushing a baby carriage. When 25, they were equally thin and often pregnant with several more children in tow.

It was striking to see how white and tender the Hasidic men’s hands looked. Many have never worked but only spent their time studying the Torah.

The multi-culturalism was striking. Hebrew, English Arabic were common with a fair sprinkling of Russian as well.

We met several young persons who had made Aliyah from the USA to Israel. 

One was a 22-year-old Hasidic Jew from New Jersey. He spoke very poor English because he had, in spite of living in the USA all his life, only learned English in the last couple of years. His first language was not Hebrew, as spoken in Israel, but Yiddish, commonly spoken only by the Hasidic Jews, all over the world.

The contrasts of many cultures are striking. Israel is, and has always been, a city of many peoples. Some girls wore the skimpiest of skimpy outfits, others were covered from head to toe in black clothes. Same for the men, everything from torn jeans to full black suits, seemingly regardless of their ages.


It was time for Purim, a time for all to dress up gaudily.

Cell-phones were ubiquitous, just like everywhere else. If a question came up in a discussion, the person you spoke to would instantly look up more facts on their smartphone. Not all spoke fluent English but would quickly translate the missing words on their phone.

The food is mostly of middle eastern type, often quite spicy. For obvious reasons, restaurants were labeled either Kosher or Halal, some carried both designations. No pork was offered, of course, but lots of mutton was on the menu.

On more than one occasion, the menu was multi-lingual, but just because it had printed English, didn’t mean that the wait staff spoke much English, especially outside the large cities. One of our members had very specific food desires and we had more than one, rather funny, discussion about what she wanted. She always succeeded in the end even if the odd dish had to be returned.


We all liked this dessert, guranteed fresh.

Fortunately, I had brought my own portable GPS with a recent Israeli map to use for our drives. The one in the rental car was all in Hebrew. We could set the spoken words to English but not the input texts.




One of our guides had proudly pointed out how much rain Israel gets, as much a London, England, on an annual basis. The clouds tried to give us all of that in a couple of days.

Traveling the highways was an exercise, just getting out of Jerusalem proper took an hour. The very frequent high-speed train may have taken a bit of traffic off the highway, but it was still busy.

Next stop, two hours away was on a kibbutz. We were near Nazareth. Again, you almost felt like you could navigate by the names in the bible. 

Our kibbutz, with about 400 families, was surrounded by a quite imposing fence with only one vehicle entrance, guarded during the day and electronically controlled after-hours.

About half the members were of the old school, living a communal life, but all in their own houses. The other half all had work outside the kibbutz and commuted by car.

Our Airbnb was a large sprawling home with a grand view of a valley and a mountain chain in the background. It was not very warm outside, and we quite enjoyed the warmth from the fireplace. It had its flue snaking through the house, warming it all, softly.

Songbirds were enjoying the spring-time weather, but the nights were totally quiet.

True to form, there was a Mosque in the valley. It used unbelievably powerful speakers to call for prayers five times a day.

Above it, high up on the mountain top was another imposing building, a Christian retreat. It had no loudspeakers.

Walking the nearby forested area, we were accompanied by a large dog. He just came with us. He was nice company.



He visited the mud-pool and then shook himself off well, to Leah's consternation.

On Friday night we were invited to Shabbat dinner at one of the neighbouring homes. What dog met us at the entrance, but the same large dog? He greeted us with a wagging tail and a few licks, we were now part of his family too.

I have been to many Shabbat dinners in USA and Canada, but this one was different.

The family had five children, from three to 16 years of age. First, the whole family and we, the guests, gathered in the living room for communal singing, accompanied by a guitar.


The dinner was all vegetarian, not to be too extravagant.

As you all know, wine is mandatory at this occasion. The little children were only allowed to dip their finger and lick the wine. It was hilarious to see how they all colluded to finish off the wine. Kids are kids.

The next day was Saturday, the day of Leah’s Bat Mitzvah.

The night before she had been very nervous about her ability to carry this out.

She performed splendidly. Over 100 persons from the Kibbutz community filled the Synagogue. It was full to capacity and more. They were grateful for another opportunity to celebrate together.


It was, as it should be, a happy occasion when the rabbi asked her:

“Are you prepared to leave your childhood behind? “

Leah:

“No, not yet, I am too young for that.”

“Too late, you are an adult now.

Leah performed as a true star and chanted her Torah portion in Hebrew beautifully.

The one-hour ceremony was, of course, in a mixture of Hebrew and English. There were many in presence that didn’t speak English.

The pressure was off, and all congratulated Leah on her new status in life.

After four pleasant days on the kibbutz, we proceeded to Tel Aviv via Haifa, the major port city of Israel.

We took in the mandatory high look-out view of the Mediterranean and the city and spent the rest of the day walking the old city. Was it older? Of course, it was old and certainly had winding streets and many interesting shops an eateries.

The beaches of Tel Aviv were much anticipated by Leah and she got her fill. It was windy and the water was cold.


Rose and I toured the various ethnic neighbourhoods and I took many photographs.

One highlight was a visit to the Children's Museum. Here we were to experience what it is like to be blind. 

We spent 70 minutes in total darkness touring a city and a park, even traveling in a boat, with only a stick for guidance, learning what it is like to not see.

That was a real "eyeopener" for us all.


Again, as I may have said before, the country of Israel may be most interesting of all; You walk on history, you feel the history and you are close, very close to Judaism in its many forms, Christianity and Islam, all liberally displayed all around you, often only a few steps apart.

If you would like to see more photographs, press on this link.



Thursday, March 28, 2019

Canada by train in February

This year we didn't go south of the equator in the winter, we vacationed in almost the coldest weather Canada can offer instead.

Our 11-day trip across Canada was an absolute success. We enjoyed every minute of it.

First, five hours on a plane to Vancouver. Then a few days around that city.
We flew a small floatplane to Victoria on Vancouver Island. Then a few days around there, just meandering around, meeting friends and eating well.
We took the ferry back to Vancouver, the Skytrain to the railroad station and spent four days and four nights on the train. That was a grand experience. We could just as well have been on the Orient Express, judging from the many interesting people we met. We ate superb food, were well entertained and slept super well in our comfortable cabin.




VIA Rail - HIGHLY recommended for friendly service and good food.
We were never cold on the train but on our walks... The cold-pictures of us were in Jasper. AB. It was - 31 deg C on our walk around town. 

The coldest outside temp was - 34 C. The last photograph, all white, was taken as we approached Toronto in a blinding snowstorm.

A little adventure as observed.

The train was 7 h late in eastern Manitoba; Suddenly we stopped in the middle of the very dark forest. One of the drivers came to the last car, the bar car, where we were. He said:

"We missed a flag stop, there is a trapper and his dog out there. We cannot leave him in this cold (- 33 C)." 

If you want ot know about "cold" read Jack London, "To build a fire".


We could see a very faint light about 2 km behind the train. Then we backed up until we came to where we saw the trapper, his baggage and his dog.

A couple of attendants jumped off the train and attended to his baggage.

The train, 13 cars and about 500 m long, continued to back up. The trapper's BIG black dog was taken into the heated luggage car, the first car after the TWO locomotives, wrapped in blankets and placed near an electric heater.

Our resident chef was arousen and went to the kitchen at a very late hour to prepare a warming meal for the cold man.

A bit of "Canada" for you. He had been there, outside by the track, for over five hours. No cellphone service and he had no idea when the train would arrive.

When it came, it drove by him at 100 km/h.

Imagine his horror.
Canadian Train drivers (Engineers) have good eyes and big hearts.

See our pictures here:


How did you like my photos? Enough of "cold"?

------------------

I've had many far more interesting experiences before this. If you 'd like to read my memoirs, "Seasons of a Man", please buy a copy here.

https://www.amazon.ca/Seasons-Man-Lindvall-family-friends/dp/1723934151/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=bengt+lindvall+the+seasons+of+a+man&qid=1551805469&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Wednesday, March 27, 2019

Virgintiy lost

I was 15

Our two-week spring break was in February, during a real, rather seldom occurring, cold spell. Even Karlshamn, on the coast, recorded – 20 C.

I visited the neighbours of my late father's cottage. This is where I had been a truly happy foster child, living on a real farm around the time of my parent's divorce. I had started grade school there and still had many friends in the area.

One evening we went to a party. A couple of the older boys had cars and we arrived in great style. The party was a great success and all felt good as we were about to leave, long after midnight.

Not so fast, it was – 25 C and no car could be started. There was no taxi to be had in the forest at that hour so we all took off walking in different directions. I warmed my hands inside Solveig's coat, followed her into her parent's kitchen to warm up and, with a little encouragement, proceeded to undress. A large brown dog was watching us. Her parents were sleeping in the room next to the kitchen.

As a good Swedish teenager in 1955, I always carried a condom in my wallet.

Sparing you the details, all went well on top of the wood storage box next to the warm stove. Continuing home to my foster parents place the world looked all different. I was now a man, the stars were brighter and closer than ever. I was on top of the world. The cold? It was the coldest walk of my young life until then but why care?

Solveig and I never met again. She took ill with Leukemia a few months later and was soon gone. She forever has a place in my heart. I sometimes put a flower on her grave when passing by.

On the good side, my childhood friend and grade school classmate Sonja, also at that party but walking home with a different boy that night, is still very much alive. We talk on the phone now and then and try to meet whenever I am in Sweden.

-----------

I have written a book about many more of my adventures, now selling well. If you are interested, have a look here:

https://www.amazon.ca/Seasons-Man-Lindvall-family-friends/dp/1723934151/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=bengt+lindvall+the+seasons+of+a+man&qid=1553996291&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Wednesday, March 6, 2019

How not to make a car go faster

Have I ever modified a car?
Yes, with a terrible outcome.
In college ca 1960 one of my classmates had a 1954 model Renault CV 4
The engine was wheezing badly, clearly on its last legs.
I sometimes walked by a scrapyard. There was an almost new 1959 Renault Dauphine with a badly mangled front end.
The Dauphine was larger and wayyyy faster than the CV 4 model.
We “all knew” that all rear engine Renaults at the time used the same engine bolt on pattern.
We made a quick deal with the scrap yard - took the CV 4 engine out and bolted in the Dauphine counterpart. Perfect fit everywhere but about twice the hp. We even transferred the larger radiator.
That was fun, racing around town and showing off “the fastest CV 4 of all -
until - 

The driver put the foot on the floor in second gear (not me that time) and 


  • the extra force on the rear wheels made the very weak rear suspension bend both wheels forward
  • that broke both driveshafts 
    and
  • made gear teeth salad of the interior of the transmission. 

Full power in second gear - baaaad.
It was fun as long as it lasted.
  • Money spent? Very little.
  • Time? Too much.
  • Enjoyment - immense.
  • Lesson learned. “Things” are often designed to fit in tandem. The larger engine in a body designed for less hp was NOT a good match.
We all graduated our Mechanical engineering course with good marks, and probably better than most for our knowledge of “engineered limitations”, I think.


------------------

I've had many more interesting experiences since then. If you 'd like to read my memoirs, "Seasons of a Man", please buy a copy here.

https://www.amazon.ca/Seasons-Man-Lindvall-family-friends/dp/1723934151/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=bengt+lindvall+the+seasons+of+a+man&qid=1551805469&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Canadian winter vacation

This year we didn't go south of the equator in the winter, we vacationed in almost the coldest weather Canada can offer instead.

Our 11-day trip across Canada was an absolute success. We enjoyed every minute of it.

First, five hours on a plane to Vancouver. Then a few days around that city, also meeting one of Rose's relatives, Errin. She's newly married to James. She's a doctor and he has a Master's degree in Architecture. They both just got their full certifications and are working in Vancouver, Happy times for both.

We flew a small floatplane to Victoria on Vancouver Island. Then a few days around there, just meandering around, meeting a friend and eating well.


A funny thing happened at the Empress Hotel (probably the premier hotel in Canada). 



We got upgraded and enjoyed the best of services, free breakfast, snacks, drinks, desserts, etc.

When we asked them to make a dinner reservation, they found these links on the Internet and sent them to "everyone". We were met like royals in many places. You have probably seen both before.


Put your volume on HIGH before you watch this:

We took the ferry back to Vancouver, the Skytrain to the railroad station and spent four days and four nights on the train. That was a grand experience. We could just as well have been on the Orient Express, judging from the many interesting people we met. We ate superb food, were well entertained and slept super well in our comfortable cabin.

VIA Rail - HIGHLY recommended for friendly service and good food.

We were never cold on the train but on our walks... 




The "cold-pictures" of us were taken in Jasper. AB. It was - 31 deg C on our walk around town. The coldest outside temp was - 34 C. The last photograph, all white, was taken as we approached Toronto in a blinding snowstorm.

A little adventure as observed.

The train was 7 h late in eastern Manitoba; Suddenly we stopped in the middle of the very dark forest. One of the drivers came to the last car, the bar car, where we were. He said:

"We missed a flag stop, there is a trapper and his dog out there. We cannot leave him in this cold (- 33 C)." 

If you want ot know about "cold" read Jack London, "To build a fire".


We could see a very faint light about 2 km behind the train. Then we backed up until we came to where we saw the trapper, his baggage and his dog.

A couple of attendants jumped off the train and attended to his baggage.

The train, 13 cars and about 500 m long, continued to back up. The trapper's BIG black dog was taken into the heated luggage car, the first car after the TWO locomotives, wrapped in blankets and placed near an electric heater.

Our resident chef was arousen and went to the kitchen at a very late hour to prepare a warming meal for the cold man.

A bit of "Canada" for you. He had been there, outside by the track, for over five hours. No cellphone service and he had no idea when the train would arrive.

When it came, it drove by him at 100 km/h.

Imagine his horror.

Canadian Train drivers (Engineers) have good eyes and big hearts.

See our pictures here:


How did you like my photos? Enough of "cold"?

------------------

I've had many far more interesting experiences before this. If you 'd like to read my memoirs, "Seasons of a Man", please buy a copy here.

https://www.amazon.ca/Seasons-Man-Lindvall-family-friends/dp/1723934151/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=bengt+lindvall+the+seasons+of+a+man&qid=1551805469&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Sunday, December 16, 2018

To Canada - as a poor man

We arrived poor in Canada


Who said immigration would be easy?

I had only worked as an Engineer for two years in Sweden when we left for Canada.

We were allowed one box each on the boat. That was enough for some tableware and small household goods.


My new employer, General Electric Company, had sent a representative to meet us at Union Station in Toronto. He drove us to the office where I was promptly signed in as an employee and got my corporate ID card.

A friend from Sweden offered us a “Welcome to Canada dinner” with his wife, who we also knew from before. He picked us up and we drove to his home nearby.

A problem arose; His wife “didn’t feel like cooking” so there was no dinner to be had, only drinks with peanuts.

Back at the hotel, we saw a Red Barn hamburger place in the distance. We went to bed hungry after only a 15-cent hamburger for dinner after our first day in the new land.




The employment offer had included only one week at the hotel, then we must find housing of our own.

We spent one full Saturday riding a dearly rented car looking at apartments all over Toronto. Then a sane thought; How much do I want to commute? I don’t have a car, how many buses do I have to take?

The next day, Sunday, we started walking in increasingly wider circles, with my plant in Scarborough as the starting point.

I saw the location the other day. There is a Walmart store at the plant site now, 50 years later.

Luck was with us. We walked by a building, only a few minutes walk away. “Apartment for rent.”




The caretaker’s wife, Mrs. Kennedy, had just had a baby, Monica was in her sixth month. They got to talking and before long we had rented a nice, clean, two-bedroom apartment on the third floor.
But, little did I know, we had to pay first and last month’s rent in advance. That was almost all I had, now in our second week in Canada. The car rental had put a serious dent in our funds. My first paycheque was only due on the following Friday.

I paid.

Now we had only $ 5.00 left between us.


Our firat "cuppa", on metal chairs and with a box for table


On the night of moving in, Monday, the five dollars was enough to buy a little food for the week and two aluminum garden chairs. We had nothing in the way of furniture at all, except our two wooden boxes.

We slept on our overcoats on the floor in one of the bedrooms. 

My coworkers at General Electric were all wonderful and warm-hearted. On night three we had an old, but a soft mattress to sleep on.

Another family “gave us” an old TV set. I paid $ 15 for it later. The set didn’t work very well. I became a master at figuring out which tube was failing and to get a replacement from the drug store.
Ironically enough, that TV set stayed in our family for over ten years. It was finally discarded when it started making smoke when switched on for more than 20 minutes. I knew what part needed replacement but gave in and bought a new set then. 22 years was a good life for a 1954 vintage TV set.

Our Monday food bag wasn’t very heavy and we became more than a little hungry before my first pay cheque arrived on Friday.

That night we celebrated with a discounted frozen pizza, mostly made from cardboard (?) and almost-coke from the grocery store.

We felt so good.

I still had a small amount remaining on a student loan to pay in Sweden. Every month I bought a money order, worth about one week’s pay, and mailed it overseas. Little had I realized until then that my loan was on a very quick payback schedule. That hurt for a few months.

It was painful to only have our aluminum chairs to sit on and no real table at all.

We went on a furniture shopping trip.

“One three room apartment furnishing, $ 199, and easy payments.”

Oh, what a shock that was. The furniture was plastic and cardboard, stapled together with the fewest staples possible. I could hardly even see it transported from the showroom without falling apart.
IKEA didn’t exist then, but their furniture usually stays together until you want to move out.

The easy payment schedule sounded great until you read the fine text, only readable with a magnifying glass. I did some interest calculations and came to the not so startling revelation that those terms were nothing less than institutionalized theft.

What to do now?

There was a German-owned furniture factory with their own showroom. “Straight from factory pricing.”

We wished to buy one sofa, a bed, and a table.

But – we have no money at all.

The store manager directed me to an Imperial Bank of Commerce office next door. (May that loans manager be blessed forever.)

We walked in, Monica took a seat by the front door.

Now a question; How much borrowing power does an immigrant have after three weeks in the country?

Not much, you say?

Correct.

My loan was denied on basis of my lack of banking history. I could only say “Thanks for your attention”, turn around and walk out.

As I approached the front door, Monica stood up to join me.

“Mr. Lindvall, come back.”

I turned around.

“I didn’t know your wife was pregnant, I will approve your loan now.”

We walked out with enough money to pay for the furniture. Still poor but now with some furniture on the horizon.


A narrow bed, but still a box for night table.

Nobody could say that public transit was great in Scarborough, not then and not now.

We stopped for a tea, at ten cents per cup, and happened to sit next to a young British gentleman. He had just stepped out of a little Austin Healy sportscar. We talked about Austin cars. I’d had good luck with one in Sweden and liked them.

Oh, did I ever wish for a car again? Our earlier forays into the used car market had been most discouraging. The wrecks that I could afford to look at were truly horrible.

We told the furniture store manager to prepare the manufacture of our items and we rode, all three of us, in the Englishman’s two-seater sports car to the dealership where he worked.

“We just traded this in yesterday. 1.5 years old. $ 1.200.”


Austin 1100 1965.

This car was almost new and, even though it was small, all we could ask for.

Again, that was an enormous amount of money, my weekly wage was $ 124.

Back on the job, I told about my purchasing adventures to a Finnish colleague, an immigrant as I was.

He said; “I’ll co-sign on a loan so you can buy the car.”

One more person who deserves a special place in heaven.

We went to the same branch where I now had a furniture loan and my colleague co-signed for one more loan in my name. In effect he took a personal loan with all the money paid out to me. Someone had trust in me.

I picked up the car the next day and some of our furniture arrived that same afternoon.

We had an apartment and wheels. What more could we wish for?

Having arrived with only enough money for the first week, we still had very little.

Everything we undertook for the next to years had to “cost little”.

I had one setback, though.

Our little daughter, born after we came to Canada, was just learning to drink out of a cup with a spout. As a conscientious father, I had to disinfect the cup.


I put it in boiling water and it shriveled up to nothing but a small ball of plastic.

At that time I was on a monthly pay-schedule. I would not have any 43 cents to buy another cup for a couple of weeks.

I went into the bedroom and cried a little, all alone, about what a useless father I was, destroying my daughter’s favourite drinking cup.

I bought a new cup that could be disinfected when the next paycheque arrived.


My salary increased over the years and we soon lived much better.