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A few weeks later, it is one in the morning (not late by Hong Kong standards). I am out with an eclectic mix of merrymakers from around the world. There are locals and expats- importers, manufacturers, bankers, lawyers, diplomats. I am asked what I do. Moments later, I find myself engaged in a debate on the “flotilla incident” with a diplomat clearly on the other side. He is polite but firm. He is a true diplomat. It is his job to represent his country.
“I am a Zionist,” I declare. I offer no apologies.
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It is very hard to build a healthy marriage when you do not have good role models.
We tend to justify and idealize this division with pride attributing these tendencies as demonstrating a higher level of kedushah.
Everyone in the kehilla can get involved, she added, and mothers can network with each other.
On her first ever trip to Israel last week, popular radio talk-show personality and clinical psychologist Dr. Joy Browne, whose spirited broadcasts regularly attract millions of listeners across North America, paid a visit to OneFamily headquarters in Jerusalem in order to learn more about the physical and emotional challenges faced by victims of terror in […]
With the famous Touro Synagogue, a variety of mansions, each with its own distinct personality, as well as the beautiful coast, Rhode Island makes for an excellent vacation spot.
To avoid all this waste and unnecessary anxiety, let’s break the task down step by step and tackle each one at a time.
While there are those who insist they need full-color photos to be truly entranced by a recipe, I suggest you get over that particular requirement because the written word here will draw you in and cause you to salivate as you peruse the recipes scattered throughout The Well-Spiced Life (Israel Book Shop).
For those who couldn’t go off base, a personal parcel was priceless in its ability to convey a feeling of home.
With the danger of being discovered always a possibility, the partisans not only moved around in the forest, but also eliminated any collaborators.
We never cease to be students, even when we are no longer in school. Therefore, everyone can learn from these elements of thought.
There is seemingly great pressure to orchestrate a production worthy of the Hong Kong skyline that will serve as a backdrop.
If your hero is fictional you could be crazy. And if they happen to be real, they are likely human and, unfortunately, inevitably flawed.
I left my mother a message saying goodbye and pleading with her to make sure my son grew up knowing how much I loved him.
In the quaint and picturesque Hungarian town of Szentendre (Saint Andrew), just outside of Budapest, our group of five new friends who had gathered from throughout the Jewish world bask in the sunlight, seemingly frozen in time. We weave along the cobblestone streets browsing in and out of charming little shops offering handmade crafts, delicate latticework, whimsical wooden toys and intricately painted porcelain. We sit outside and feast on pastries that look more like art than edibles and ice coffee is reminiscent of ice cream floats.
It started as my daughter’s third grade assignment: choose a person to write about, preferably an American, preferably a Jew. We were going to do just that. I intended to help my daughter choose the topic and then to back away yet, Emma Lazarus ended up drawing me in.
I met Mr. E at a poetry reading. Hong Kong’s literary scene is small and two Americans reading in one evening was an unusual event. We became Facebook friends, generally “liking” the same local literary events and book launches.
A Hong Kong symphony of sounds fills the air as local laborers shout across the shul courtyard in Cantonese while tossing bamboo in a pile for the sukkah: Filipino maids chatter in Tagalog hovering over the children in their charge, the radio of the Nepalese gurkhas, the Synagogue security, crackles and jackhammers provide the background music. The thick air and humidity within the walls of the partially constructed bamboo sukkah sharply contrasts with the crisp fall air of Sukkot in the northeastern corridor of the United States, where the sukkahs of my childhood were laden with dried fruit and autumn color. Dozens of colorful miniature Chinese paper lanterns dangle from the sukkah and here replace the burnt orange and golden gourds of autumn.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/potpourri/zionism-made-in-china/2011/01/20/
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