#Jewish Traveling Tips

[tipstorah]

Traveling Tips from the Torah

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Travel has been an intrinsic part of the human experience, often prompting reflection and a sense of discovery. The Torah, a foundational text of Jewish tradition, offers insights that can enhance the journey, both physically and spiritually. Herein, we explore several travel tips derived from the teachings and narratives of the Torah.

First and foremost, one of the central themes in the Torah is the importance of preparation. In the Book of Exodus, the Israelites are commanded to prepare for their exodus from Egypt. This preparation included gathering provisions, planning their route, and ensuring their families were ready for the journey ahead (Exodus 12:11). This principle underscores the significance of meticulous planning before embarking on any trip. Travelers are encouraged to research their destinations, make itineraries, and pack wisely, taking into consideration the necessities for their journey.

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Furthermore, the Torah emphasizes the value of community and companionship in travel. In Leviticus 19:34, it is stated that one should love the stranger as oneself, highlighting the interconnectedness of humanity. Traveling in groups not only enhances safety but also fosters shared experiences and mutual support. As pilgrims and caravans journeyed together in ancient times, modern travelers can similarly benefit from the camaraderie and enriched perspectives that arise from shared adventures.

Another vital lesson from the Torah is the importance of mindfulness during travel. The narrative of the Israelites wandering in the desert serves as a reminder to embrace the journey itself rather than hastily focusing on the destination. This principle encourages travelers to remain present, savoring each moment and appreciating the landscapes and cultures encountered along the way. The teachings found in Deuteronomy 10:19, which urge compassion for the disadvantaged, further remind travelers to approach their journeys with kindness, engaging respectfully with local communities.

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Lastly, the Torah presents a perspective on travel as a means of personal growth and spiritual exploration. As one traverses new landscapes and cultures, there lies an opportunity for profound self-discovery and reflection. The experiences gained can lead to greater understanding, empathy, and connection with others. The journey can become a metaphor for life's own travels, where challenges and triumphs contribute significantly to one's character.

In conclusion, the Torah offers timeless travel tips that resonate across generations. Through preparation, fostering community, practicing mindfulness, and pursuing personal growth, travelers can embark on journeys that are not only enriching but also transformative. As travelers take to the roads and skies, these guiding principles can enhance their experiences, leading to deeper insights and meaningful connections with the world around them.

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[jewishtravelling]

The Jewish Laws of Travelling

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The Jewish laws of travelling, rooted in centuries of religious tradition, are shaped by a confluence of scriptural directives, rabbinic interpretations, and communal customs. These laws not only govern the physical aspects of travel but also imbue the journey with spiritual significance, reflecting the deep value placed on holiness, safety, and ethical conduct within Jewish life.

Central to the laws of travelling is the concept of "Halakhah," which encompasses the legal framework guiding Jewish practice. One of the critical considerations is the Sabbath, a holy day observed from Friday evening to Saturday evening during which travel is restricted. The prohibition against work and activities, including travel, serves to sanctify the day and encourages spiritual reflection. Exceptionally, circumstances such as illness or emergencies may permit travel, but even here, practitioners are urged to prioritize the observance of the Sabbath where possible.

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Another significant aspect is the preparation that precedes travel. Prior to setting out, individuals often engage in prayers, such as "Tefilat Haderech," the Traveler's Prayer, which beseeches divine protection and guidance throughout the journey. This prayer reflects the intrinsic belief in God’s sovereignty over all pathways and the importance of seeking divine favor during transitions, whether they be short journeys or extensive travels.

Moreover, Jewish law stipulates ethical considerations that must be upheld during travel. The commandments of honesty, respect for others, and compassion extend onto the road; thus, individuals are enjoined to treat fellow travelers with kindness and to engage in responsible conduct. The principle of "Pikuach Nefesh," the preservation of life, further underscores the imperative for safety, mandating that the lives of oneself and others be prioritized above many other religious obligations.

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In contemporary times, the application of these laws may evolve in response to modern travel methods and societal changes. Nonetheless, the foundational principles remain relevant, serving to enrich spiritual life during travel and fostering a conscious approach to Jewish identity on the journey. In conclusion, the Jewish laws of travelling encompass a rich tapestry of spiritual and ethical directives that guide individuals in harmonizing their travels with their faith, ensuring that every journey is not merely a physical passage but also a profound opportunity for reflection and growth.

[deliciouskeys]

Spending these Christmas/New Year’s days of madness in Manhattan. I actually like the crowds lol (now that I don’t live here). Midtown is mayhem of course: Saks Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Plaza, Bryant Park winter village and Times Square are complete 1 mile per hour pedestrian gridlock, and god help anyone who attempts to drive through there, but above 60th and below 34th things are pretty normal.

It’s also always a good time to scope out fic locations for canon set largely in NYC 😏

I still want a Vought Christmas special to happen in-show

[kick-a-long]

jewish american safety tips for upcoming oct 2 to oct 7th 2024

ok, so this is not a post about looking for trouble. but if trouble finds you from oct 2 to oct 7 and you don't pass enough to feel safe, and even if you do, there are some simple ways you can carry things to defend yourself while still deescalating a bad situation long enough to escape.

the important part is to either make you just enough of a problem that they don't want to spend the effort or a good little jew who doesn't fight back. don't hit them, try to stall and deescalate until you can run or get some distance. walk with people, travel with people, don't expect anyone to fight for you (being in larger groups is just a detergent) so the same rules apply alone as with someone else.

carry a bat or cane. these are pretty easy to get at a sports shop or a pharmacy. they are good for keeping attackers at a distance and in that time someone might pass by and get them to run off. these will not win a fight. carrying them is a way to make them think twice, keep their distance and regroup because jew bashers won't expect you to be able to do them any harm and it can give you time. don't hit them even if they faint at you because they will attack.

if you have a dog with you, be sure you can hold him back for both you and the dog. dogs are usually perfectly happy to attack and give you a chance to run but they will hurt that dog and you might try to save it which is worse than having no dog. the ideal dog is a barker not a biter, or a big scary dog you can control.

carry a rape whistle. these can do fuck all but the sound might scare them off. especially if it's the electric kind that sounds when activated. this method makes them feel like they will get caught and they are all cowards.

mace is a bad idea but if you think you know how to use it without spraying yourself it might give you time to run but it will get that now very pissed antisemite an opportunity to run after you.

third if you wear a yamika, you are now also wearing a baseball cap on top. if you wear religious garb or gay identifiers of any sort, you have to make sure it's only visible on your front so you can see who can see you or don't wear it at all if you can. stick to places you know and residential areas.

don't be afraid to knock on strangers doors if you even get a whiff of being followed. most people love to be a hero and if you don't want to let you in ask if they can watch for trouble coming from their door or window while you wait by the house. even if you are just walking to an apartment try ringing bells. if you are in a shops area, head into a shop and explain that you are unsafe and ask if you can stay for safety. you should call police but police take time to respond and they can't charge someone that hasn't done anything... and the whole point is to prevent them doing anything.

NO KNIVES. NO GUNS. no weapons, although some chunky rings can't hurt. no earings to grab, no necklaces to grab, keep your hair up. no nutzo weapons, you are not john wick. you want them to keep their distance not engage. the people who do this want easy targets and they are cowards at heart.

the most likely thing to happen is getting yelled at on the street from a car. that's fine. those dudes usually drive off. if they stop, you can run off by the time someone gets out. they only brought the car to get away and they don't want their car stolen so they probably wont get too far from it.

second most likely is drunk assholes spontaneously following and heckling and yelling slurs. keep your ears open and don't respond and run off if they stop. drunk guys want trouble but don't usually attack unless you engage. play it off as a silent uncomfortable joke where you smile if you have to because they might see it as "just a little fun". don't talk. don't laugh. don't engage.

the third situation is the real danger. if you see a lone guy or a group of guys in a car or on foot who don't look rowdy, drunk, aren't speaking but are looking at you. run. the easiest thing to do is walk towards a house. no waiting.

the fourth is a large violent riot/protest. don't look scared. chant whatever they chant and get to the nearest house.

i know a lot of jews are feeling unsafe. it's very, VERY unlikely that anyone in America is going to be physically targeted or attacked (except orthodox jews. sorry but your community probably already has security in place. rely on them it's not their first rodeo.)

if you are outnumbered by people joking on a bus or public transit you can't get off immediately, stay safe and subservient. that's what antisemites consider a good jew. scared and knows their inferior place. try keeping your head down and get off on the next stop. don't think the other passengers will help you and don't assume they don't have weapons.

i know it's scary but it's very unlikely you will encounter any of these situations. stay inside as much as possible, only travel by day or by car if you have to get out, a quick trip to pick up beer or dinner is not worth it if it puts you in danger.

stay safe.

edit for good advice from @angryjewishcockroach : Another tip re: cars: if you’re walking and someone is following you in a car, or you’re afraid they’re going to start following you, do a 180 and go in the opposite direction. The amount of time it takes to turn a car around will give you a good head start, and most jerks won’t even bother. If you’re in a neighborhood or something similar, you can also cut through lawns; cars can’t follow you there, and you should hopefully be able to lose them if they try to follow anyway.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Benjamin Levin

Killing Nazis at age 14

Benjamin Levin was a young resistance fighter who, as one of the notorious “Avengers,” spent World War II hiding in a Lithuanian forest, emerging only to kill Nazis or bomb their supply chains.

Benjamin was born in Vilna in 1927. His father Chaim was a successful businessman and the family lived a comfortable life. In 1941, however, Chaim was tipped off that Nazi Germany was about to invade Lithuania. As Jews, that meant the Levins’ days were numbered. Chaim quickly sold his business at a loss, used the proceeds to buy weapons, and went into hiding with his family.

At the time, Benjamin was a 14 year old juvenile delinquent who’d started smoking at age 8 and was member of a street gang. After the German invasion, he chose not to stay with his parents in their hiding place, instead joining the fierce resistance group known as the “Avengers” led by Abba Kovner. Benjamin was an immediate asset to the group due to his unique combination of exceptional bravery and diminutive size. His baby face and unassuming appearance enabled him to avoid attracting attention, even in enemy territory.

Hidden in a Lithuanian forest, the teenager and his fellow Avengers killed Nazis, bombed their transportation lines, and smuggled life-saving food and medicine into the Jewish ghettoes. It was later estimated that the brave band of guerrilla fighters had killed 212 Nazis. Their policy was “take no prisoners.” In 1944, the Jewish fighters helped the Russian army liberate Vilna, after which they marched through town looking for Nazi collaborators to execute.

Benjamin’s parents survived the war in hiding, but when they returned to Vilna to reclaim their home, their former neighbors murdered them on the spot. With nothing to keep them in Europe, Benjamin and his sister moved to pre-state Israel, where he joined the Jewish militant group Irgun, fighting the British occupation of Palestine. Benjamin was in charge of helping Jewish survivors in Europe relocate to Israel. Benjamin’s street smarts and people skills served him well as he traveled through Turkey and Syria with European Holocaust survivors.

The Soviet army did not appreciate Benjamin’s work rescuing Jews from behind the Iron Curtain, and in 1947 he was arrested and sent to a Siberian gulag. After a year, Benjamin was released from the gulag and hitchhiked his way to Southern Europe, where he reconnected with the Irgun in Italy. The organization arranged for him to enroll in college and earn a degree in mechanical engineering. He was assigned to the engine room of a ship that sailed around the world, collecting money, weapons and volunteers to fight for the Jewish state.

The ship was called Altalena, and headed to Israel with hundreds of Holocaust survivors on board, as well as Jewish volunteers from around the world, and a cache of heavy ammunition secretly donated by France. When the Altalena reached Tel Aviv and tried to dock, the ship came under fire by the Haganah, a rival military group. Under machine-gun fire, young Benjamin leapt off the ship and swam to shore, then snuck into the country unnoticed. He had been through so much in the previous several years, had lived so many lives and assumed so many identities, that he actually forgot his own birthday. Later, he decided to make Passover – the festival of freedom – his official birthday.

Benjamin met his wife Sara, a Hungarian immigrant, in Israel, and ironically she was serving with the Haganah when they fired on the Altalena. Together they had two children, and moved to New York in 1967, where Benjamin worked as a mechanic and owned a gas station. In the 1990’s, Benjamin was interviewed extensively by Steven Spielberg as part of the Shoah Foundation oral history project.

For decades, Benjamin was an in-demand public speaker at New York high schools, where he spoke about the Holocaust and his remarkable life. Toward the end of his life, Benjamin was unable to speak, but he insisted on continuing his school appearances, with his son Chaim – named for Benjamin’s father – doing the speaking for him. Chaim remembered how much Benjamin loved interacting with students, and described his father as having “an enormous amount of energy and joy and love.”

Benjamin Levin died on April 13, 2020 at age 93. The last survivor of the Avengers, Benjamin died during Passover – his adopted birthday.

For heroically fighting Nazis and saving European Jews, and for educating generations of New York schoolchildren about the Holocaust, we honor Benjamin Levin as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[mesetacadre]

Aviation in the USSR

A collection of excerpts from Anna Lousie Strong's The Soviets Expected It, compiled for @czerwonykasztelanic

[...] Or the guerrilla detachment which captured six German planes, destroyed five of them, and sent the sixth to the Red Army, piloted by an amateur air enthusiast, who was a tractor driver in ordinary life. Lt. Talalikhin’s initiative is already a Soviet aviator’s tradition. Exhausting his ammunition in a fight with three enemy planes, he rammed the tail of one enemy with his propeller, smashed the tail of another enemy plane with his wing tip, and then bailed out of his own plane safely. Moscow parks displayed the wreckage of the German planes, and other Soviet pilots quickly copied the tactics. An aviation technician, Konikov, won renown by attaching the fuselage of a plane he was repairing to the front platform of a military train whose locomotive had been bombed by the enemy; he thus pulled the most necessary parts of the train to safety.

pg. 14

The Soviet people glimpsed and felt victory. For the first time they began to feel that they were no longer “backward Russians.” They were beginning to challenge the world. With this went a proud sense of their unity as a nation. Cotton growers in Turkestan exulted, “We have conquered the Arctic,” though they themselves would never see the snow. Bearded peasants, who had never sat in an airplane, began to talk about “our conquest of the air.” Young Nina Kameneva expressed the mood of the country’s young people when she broke a world’s altitude record in parachute jumping and remarked on landing: “The sky of our country is the highest sky in the world.”

pg. 46

Moscow can make all the implements of war, including planes and motor trucks, inside the city. [...] Moscow’s sky is covered by an air defense that was the marvel of the London experts who visited it after the war began to make suggestions and found it far superior to London’s. Anti-aircraft shells make a thick blanket at four distinct levels to London’s one, and observation planes patrol the heavens night and day. Moscow’s four million people also offer a night-and-day defense.

pg. 51

Alma Ata, the capital of this area, has grown from a town of 60,000 to a proud young city of 260,000 in the ten years since the railroad reached it. Its life has leaped at once from the nomad epoch to the airplane. The railroad is too slow to tame the wastes of Kazakstan. From Alma Ata Airport the planes shoot forth, east, west, south, north, on new discoveries. [...] Kazakstan is only one of the energetic regions behind the Urals. South of it lie the lands of the Uzbeks and Tadjiks, where some of the largest textile mills of the U.S.S.R. work up the locally grown cotton and where automobile and airplane parts are produced by mass production in the historic city of Samarkand.

pg. 58

I have traveled many times on the Trans-Siberian. In the spring of 1935, I went from Vladivostok to Moscow with a stop-over in the Jewish autonomous territory whose capital is Birobidjan. The train was crowded with pioneering people in warm woolen clothes and padded leather jackets, engineers, Army men, developers of the Far East. [...] An army engineer who shared my table at dinner was celebrating his return by airplane from the northern wilderness by consuming a whole bottle of port and bragging about the Far Eastern pioneers.

pg. 59

According to Pierre Cot, the French Air Minister, who visited Moscow in 1933, the Soviet air arm was at least equal to the best in Europe in numbers, technical equipment, and, above all, in the productive capacity of the aviation industry.‡ Thus, by the end of 1932, which ended the first Five Year Plan, the Soviet Union had reached the level of Western Europe in armaments – a fairly modest level judged by standards of later years.

pg. 65

Other official indications of the extent of the Red Army’s mechanization come from Voroshilov’s report in 1934 [...]. Five years later [...]. He claimed that the “bomb salvo” of the Soviet air force (the number of bombs that can be dropped by all planes at once) had tripled in five years and had reached more than 6,000 tons.

pg. 66

Soviet airplane pilots also hold many world records, both in altitude and long-distance flights. Their conquest of the Arctic and its difficult weather has accustomed them to the severest conditions. Americans well remember the Soviet pilots who twice made world records by flying from Moscow to America. These were individual exploits, but the development of Arctic aviation on which they were based was the work of large numbers of pilots and implies a whole air tradition

pg. 67

Parachute jumping has become a national sport in the Soviet Union. Soviet people are probably the most air-minded people in the world. Training for air-mindedness begins in the kindergarten. Small tots play the “butterfly game” and jump around with large butterflies pinned on their hair, gaining the idea that flying is fun and a natural activity. Children in their teens make jumps from “parachute towers” which are far rougher and more realistic than the parachute tower in the New York World’s Fair, which was copied from them. The sport is popular not only in the cities but on the farms. Several years ago a Ukrainian farmer told me of his trip to the nearby city with a group of farm children, all of whom immediately formed in line in the recreation park to go up in a tall tower and jump off under a parachute. “I thought it very terrifying,” he said, “and wondered why the park authorities allowed it. Then I saw that my own thirteen-year-old daughter was at the head of the line. These children of today aren’t afraid of anything.” At an older age, Soviet young people jump from airplanes, learn to operate gliders, or even become amateur pilots in their spare time. Every large factory, government department, and many of the larger collective farms have “aviation clubs,” which are given free instruction by the government. Probably a million people in the Soviet Union have made actual jumps from parachutes. It is not surprising that the Red Army was the first to use parachute troops in active service several years before the Germans adopted them. In 1931 a small detachment of parachutists surrounded and cleaned up a bandit gang in Central Asia. The making of airplane models by young people is taken seriously in the U.S.S.R. In 1937 over a million school children were spending after-school hours in aviation model stations. At a later stage, young people of talent create real airplanes and demonstrate them at Tushino aviation exhibitions. Owing to the wide interest in aviation and the public ownership of factories, a bright Soviet youth who invents a new type of airplane may get it constructed by his factory sports club and show it off. At one of the aviation festivals I attended, I saw a score of different amateur planes, including every possible shape of flying object – short, stubby ones, long thin ones, others shaped like different kinds of insects. They added greatly to the gaiety of the occasion. Whether or not they produced any really valuable new invention, they at least encouraged the inventiveness of their makers.

pg. 72

In the past two years, especially, all this training has been given a very realistic turn. [...] Only a month before the Germans attacked the Soviet borders, 7,000 Moscow citizens practiced a special drill in repulsing parachute troops over the week end. The large numbers of such trained citizenry, both among recruits entering the Red Army and among the older citizens assisting it, greatly add to the Soviet Union’s total defense.

pg. 73

[mariacallous]

Honey cake is a High Holiday staple, and it doesn’t get more classic than this delicious version. And the good news is that it is a true one-bowl recipe.

Honey cake is a traditional dessert served for the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. Honey symbolizes the hope for a sweet year to come, and plays a starring role in this cake. While often maligned as dry, dense or even old-fashioned, I think you’ll agree that this recipe puts to rest any negative associations. Yes, it is a brown cake, but this easy honey cake bakes up tender and moist, with a beautiful, burnished bronze color that will be a hit on your holiday table. Naturally dairy-free, the cake gets its tender crumb from the eggs and oil, while the addition of brewed coffee offsets the sweetness.

I’ve deployed one of my favorite tips for a clean release from the pan that also yields a beautiful finish, by using granulated sugar to replace the flour typically used to prep the pan. The cake releases perfectly, without that chalkiness that flour leaves. Instead, the sugar gives a slightly jeweled effect, and a subtle crunch  — no frosting needed.

That said, if you are Team More is More and want to top this cake, a simple glaze made from confectioner’s sugar and the zest and juice from a large orange or lemon works beautifully. You’ll need about 2 cups of confectioner’s sugar, and can add water (a bit at a time) if needed to create a pourable consistency. Drizzle over the cake and let set at room temperature before serving.

This honey cake stores beautifully, making it a perfect treat for days to follow. To store the cake, wrap in plastic wrap and keep at room temperature for up to one week. Its sturdy nature makes it a no-fuss travel companion (if you’re going to glaze it, wait till you get to your destination for the prettiest finish). Serve for breakfast, with a cup of tea or for a delicious afternoon snack.

[s-u-w-i]

Back home!

Hi hi everyone! A few weeks ago I wrote a post about traveling to Rome and asked you, guys, for tips. I haven’t expected you’d go so very wild with the answers! But thank you so much, it was very helpful and I’m grateful 😌 Arrived home today and just so you know I’ve listened to many of your tips, here - ✨ I’ve been eating loads of pizza and I did try the one with zucchini flowers. Though I also had amazing focaccia which I enjoyed even more. ✨ I tried supplì. ✨ I’ve had some wonderful ice cream. ✨ Also tried the lovely Jewish fried artichoke.

✨ Seen many many ancient ruins and even more ancient vases. ✨ Visited Via Appia and the Catacombs (so very amazing!) ✨ Been to Trastevere. ✨ Went inside many churches (I love all the mosaics!) though not each one because there are far too many of them! Also the Pantheon! O: ✨ I’ve seen Fontana di Trevi (and others). ✨ Spent a long time in the Vatican Museums, Borghese Gallery, and Etruscan Museum. ✨ Experienced firsthand some terrific traffic. I thought I’ll be used to it from Madrid, but no. I wasn’t prepared for that :’D It was intense but wonderful and I’ve seen such a huge amount of beautiful and inspirational things, I hope I’ll manage to remember at least a few of them. I’ve also been reading Quo Vadis so I’m in such a  Ancient Rome mood now! Thank you so much once again! 💖

[stephensmithuk]

A Study in Scarlet: The Science of Deduction

I am reusing some stuff from my December 2022 post on this.

A portmanteau was a large travelling bag that opened into two parts; it has since become a term for a "blended word" i.e. two words combined to make a single one, like "gerrymander" or "infomercial".

We get a small bit of antisemitism in this one - Watson refers to someone as looking like a "Jew pedlar". This is a period when that was rife - and it would get worse as time went on. A lot of the population of the East End would be made up of Jewish refugees from the Russian Empire.

Central London is small enough that you can walk across it in a couple of hours; I did a 10-mile charity walk earlier this year that covered a good part of the City (which is a distinct political entity to Greater London) and the East End. You can get a vast range of architecture in a small distance.

The London Underground was definitely a thing by 1887, although only the "sub-surface lines" had been built by that point. The Bluebell Railway has some Metropolitan Railway carriages of a slightly later vintage that I believe have turned up in more than one Holmes adaptations; you can also find examples you can go in at the London Transport Museum.

A railway porter - something that I have done at a heritage railway - was a general "servant" who did things like assist customers, carry luggage, sweep up and other general duties. They weren't supposed to accept tips from passengers, but the practice was widespread.

Dupin is one of the first literary detectives.

Émile Gaboriau wrote 11 works featuring Lecoq before his death in 1873 aged just 36.

[commander-writergirl]

Cuddles and Good Food

Synopsis: You get your period and Pedro comes home from all the touring. 

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Jewish!fem Reader (vague description. I mention her having curly hair)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: sexual innuendos, cursing, talk of menstruation

Word Count: 1,717

Note: This is super self indulgent cause I just want to cuddle this dork. Also this wasn’t beta’d and please let me know if any of the Spanish is incorrect. 

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

I sighed and curled up on the bed as the next episode of Stargate started up. I didn’t have the energy to watch anything else and to be honest after getting the “I’m coming home” text from Pedro, I didn’t really want to put anything on that required my full attention.  

I looked at my phone as it buzzed again. I picked up and read the text from my friend.  

F/N: Did you watch the new episode of TLOU yet?

I sighed and turned my phone upside down. I had been working on keeping up with the series but had fallen behind when I met up with Pedro during his London premier red carpet.  

And of course, the universe decided to laugh at me and bestow my period on me the moment I got home.  

I groaned and curled up more as a wave of pain went through my back. PCOS can be a real bitch.

“Baby? I’m home.” When I hear Pedro yell, I realize I should have just put the Mandalorian on just to fall asleep to the sound of his voice. Or the video of interviews I had saved on YouTube.

“Bedroom.” I yelled out. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair hoping to tame some of the curls.  

When he stepped into the doorway, I couldn’t help holding my arms out and making grabby hands towards him. It may have only been a few days since we saw each other last but I always got needy while on my period. He chuckled softly and walked over climbing into the bed next to me before pulling me into his lap.  

“What’s wrong with my sweet girl?” he asked as I nuzzled into his chest.

“My period started yesterday.” I mumbled as I felt strands of my hair get caught in the stubble of his beard.  

He hummed and gently messaged my lower back. I whimpered before sighing as the pain passed. He kissed my temple and nuzzled his nose against my cheek making me giggle. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

I turned my face to nuzzle my nose against his. “You’re already doing it,” I wrapped my arms around his neck.  

He held me close and fell back making me giggle.  

“I’ve missed that giggle.” He mused nuzzling his nose into my hair. “I’ve also missed this bed.”  

“Well, that’s what happens when you have two shows premier less than a month apart and have an SNL guest appearance and decide to meet up with all your friends while traveling.” I looked up at him.  

He sighed, “The price of fame.”  

“I saw your Graham Norton interview; I know you are enjoying the attention.” I smirked at him.  

He pouted, “Okay, maybe a little.” Pedro rolled us so he was hovering over me, caging my body between his legs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you or our bed.” He moved my hair back.

“I did enjoy watching you break character... twice while watching SNL.” I grinned. “Oscar even called me the next day to ask about my thoughts.”  

Pedro dropped his head on my shoulder. “Of course, he did.”  

I cleared my throat and let my tongue settle on the bottom of my mouth. “Ya know,” he peeked at me as I mimicked the LA voice. “That LA voice, was the best.” I moved my jaw. “God how did you do that for that long.” I said in my normal voice.

He laughed and kissed my cheek. “Eleven months on the set of The Last of Us gave me great practice.”  

I hummed and pushed his hair back. “Yes, and I now get to have nightmares because my friends convinced me to start watching it.”

He hummed, “My poor bebe.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

I wrinkled it up and squirmed a little. “At least you make good eye candy.”

He smirked, “Is that so?”  

I hummed, nodding my head. “Tumblr is all about Joel right now.”  

“Anything good?” He asked settling next to me and gently messaging my stomach.

I bit my tongue to keep from moaning when he pressed on a specific spot. “Um a lot of smut.” He laughed at that and shook his head. “One account had polls of your characters of ‘who does it better’ and many are Joel vs. Frankie.” I whimpered and squirmed as he pressed down on another sensitive spot.

“Anything of interest to you?” he asked, letting his finger lazily trace the band of my panties.  

I knew his hand wouldn’t go further; he was simply trying to distract me. We both learned quick that sex on my period was a very bad idea. In any form.  

I hummed, “I’ve actually been reading a mix of your other characters. Joel just gives my brain too much horror.” I thought, “Some people have even written about your SNL characters which is quite interesting to read.”  

He chuckled. “Of course, why am I not surprised.” He kissed my temple before shifting me to my side with him tucked behind me. “I’m gonna guess you didn’t sleep well last night.”

“José,” I looked up at him. “Are you giving me permission to take a nap while you spoon me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Only person outside my family that even uses that name on me anymore.”  

“You didn’t answer my question.”  

He reached over me and grabbed the remote. “I’m going to watch my dumb shows while you nap against me, yes.”  

I hummed and wiggled into him. He grunted making me smirk before I settled against my pillow, feeling comfortable for the first time in the last 24 hours.

----------

I slowly woke to the smell of beef cooking. I sat up and stretched ignoring the cramping in my lower back. I climbed out of bed and walked towards the kitchen.

The sight I found was one I didn’t see often. I could hear Spanish music coming from the stereo and Pedro moving to the beat while cooking. He didn’t always cook but when he did it usually stemmed from a form of homesickness, he couldn’t place.  

I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”  

He chuckled and looked at me over his shoulder. The upside to being only a few inches shorter than he was. “Cazuela, though taking your advice I cooked the beef before adding it to the stew.”  

“That US versus Chile snacks got to you huh?” I’d watched the interview and having been dating Pedro for a few years now, I have tried each item that was set before him.

He shrugged and went back to cutting up the corn on the cob to make it more manageable. “You just make all these great meals from your childhood.”

I moved to lean on the counter next to him. “Pedro, I’m Jewish. My people learned to carry our recipes with us wherever we ended up.” I nudged his hip with my own. “If you want, I could message Javiera and see if she has any Balmaceda family recipes.”  

He gave me a soft smile. “I would actually like that.”  

I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. “You do so much for me. From not eating bread around me during Passover to making sure I keep to my fast on Yom Kippur. The least I can do is learn some family recipes to make you feel as happy as you make me feel.” I stroked my thumb against the V tattoo on his wrist.  

He kissed my head before scrapping the corn into the pot next to him. He set the knife and cutting board down before grabbing my hand and pulling me to him and swaying us. “It may just be my age catching up with me, but I’ve been craving the meals I had as a kid more and more.”  

I wrapped my arms around his next as we swayed. “José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, there’s nothing wrong with a little nostalgia.”  

He groaned, “I love when you say my whole name.” He dropped his head to my shoulder and rested his hands above my ass. I rolled my eyes. “Makes me tingle all over.”

I lightly shoved him away. “Such a weirdo.” I smiled as he gasped and laid his hands over his heart.

“I’ve been wounded mi amor.” He leaned against the counter.

“Aww poor baby.” I pouted at him.

He glared at me, “Alright Dinah Rachel--” I quickly covered his mouth.

“Okay, okay. No need to pull my Hebrew name into this.” I sighed. “You’re getting better.”

I moved my hands from his mouth. “Well, I did work with Gal, picked up a few things.”

I tilted my head at him. “You started learning to pronounce Hebrew when we were just starting out?” I felt my pulse pick up.

A light dust took over his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It was important to you, and I know Spanish is much easier.”  

I bit my lower lip to keep from crying. “That-” I sniffled.

“Oh no,” he quickly moved and hugged me close to him. “I’m so sorry baby.”

I nuzzled his chest and gripped the back of his shirt. “That’s so sweet.” I whimpered out.  

He rubbed my back. “Aw baby.”  

I looked up at him. “You really are the best.”  

He smiled and I stood on my toes pressing my lips against his. He hummed kissing me back and gripped my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck letting my fingers tangle into his curls.  

His tongue brushed against my lower lip and as we began to explore each other’s mouths, a sizzling sound pulled us apart. We looked over at the stove to see the broth for the soup overflowing.  

“Shit,” he reached over and turned the burner down. He shook his head and grabbed two bowls from the cabinet. “Let’s eat and then we can continue.”  

I hummed and grabbed the spoons as Pedro filled the bowls. “I like the sound of that.”  

He smiled and we walked over to the couch before settling in.  

It was going to be nice having him home, even if only for a few weeks before his next project.

[missing-sock-misto]

I love that the humans named Misto Dante, it’s such a good concept. Do you have any human family names for the other cats?

(This ask is referencing the tags of this post)

So, for some context-

@thunderwhenhepurrs got super into mafia stuff a while back and developed some OCs and a story. So we played around with a crossover where their characters; Ella (a modern girl with time travel powers) and Damiano (a 1920’s mafia don learning to get out of the business), adopted Misto and Tugger.

Long way of saying all the names have an Italian flavor.

We made some stories and drabbles that were a lot of fun but just never got put on Ao3 cause the legwork of getting people to know who the OCs were was too high.

But:

Dante- a dainty all black cat who showed up one day and got adopted by the pair. Damiano is certain he is actually a demon in cat skin, Ella is blissfully oblivious to anything supernatural (she has a history of adopting not fully normal cats, so she just thinks it’s all normal behavior, and that Damiano is being superstitious. It doesn’t help that Dante makes a game of only doing supernatural things (climbing on walls & ceilings, turning into a black ooze) when Damiano is looking, and then being perfectly cute and innocent as soon as Ella turns around. The two have formed a mutual alliance- I give you tuna, you don’t eat my soul. Win win.)

Romeo- A huge brown tabby maine coon who shows up one day and insists that this house is his too. At first, the pair are scared that he’d be a danger to their cats, and prevent him from entering, but eventually the tom makes it inside the house. The humans are surprised to find the tom draped over the sofa like a small lion, enthusiastically grooming the normally aloof Dante. They decide that the cat distribution system is at work and won’t take no for an answer.

Caesar- A massive ginger maine coon with amber eyes owned by Damiano’s don rival, Juliano. (Because, he is exactly the type of guy who would call their cat Caesar when his own name is “little Julius”). Despite how expensive Caesar must have been, Juliano shows a general disregard for the cat, allowing it to roam the streets and get matted and dirty. It’s got a strange aura to it, fire crackling behind a closed door. It is a nasty surprise when the pair are disturbed in modern times by a strangely similar looking cat stalking their house.

Leonardo- the brother or cousin of Romeo, as far as the humans can determine. He’s an intelligent silver tabby maine coon, and as such is named after Leonard da Vinci. Romeo will tease him whenever he stops by, bapping him in the face before running away.

Papà Paffuto- Plump Papa. He’s more fluff than cat, and Romeo turns into a kitten whenever he’s around. A sweet elderly cat, he loves basking in the sun and sleeping.

.

Damiano’s friend, a Jewish mobster, also has a couple of cats.

Adina- meaning ‘gentle’ in hebrew, she is a skittish cat, terrified of strangers, but with a kind nature.

Aviva- the kitten of Adina, her name means Springtime. She has longer fur than her mother, with the tips of maine coon ears starting to form. She is sweet and inquisitive.

Malka- meaning Queen in hebrew, a gorgeous red somali cat who is fiercely protective of Adina and Aviva.

Thank you for asking! Writing this universe, where the humans actually mattered in the instead of being a faceless backdrop, was really fun! It’s nice to be able to talk about it!

[anytimebitchess]

Story time! + hot take (?)

I feel the need to (finally) say something on here, so I will! ☺️

I was reminiscing on when I went to Palestine 🇵🇸 and Israel 🇮🇱 few years ago, and the Israeli border-control suspected me for being involved in a t*rror*st org 🤡 and interrogated me for 1.5 hours at the border, and later giving me a wack ass excuse, by saying “you’re pretty and traveling alone” (I wasn’t traveling alone. I was with a friend and bunch of other people) and that I can “pass as an Arab or a Jew” (ok, I see it) that I “have a good Arabic and Hebrew pronunciation” and that my “surname is not from the country [I] come from and [my] passport was made in an consulate” 💀

+ the police forces were not helpful when I asked them for directions, because I wasn’t Israeli or Jewish…😵‍💫 they deadass asked me if I’m Jewish, and when I said no, they left the convo…so I went up to a man who ended up being Palestinian and gave me the direction and some extra tips and recommendations! 😃

When I went to Palestine (West Bank) everything was the opposite from Israel. Ironically, I felt more safe. Very kind and open people! loved chatting and even a candy salesman gave me 0,5kg of Halva, just because I said that’s my favorite sweet! And ate the best humus and Falafel of my life! (Still thinking about the food I ate there 😪)

This is (one of many reasons) why I’ll always stand by Palestine and Palestinians! Especially after experiencing Israel and Palestine the way I did. Israel is a racist country, built on racist ideologies and views. The state has nothing to do with Judaism, never has and never will. Zionism to Judaism is what (neo)Nazis are to Christianity, and what ISIS is to Islam. They represent atheism in the name of ‘God’.

Hate me or whatever, Idc 🤷🏻‍♀️ it will just show your true colors as a person. I sympathize with these people and their stories, and I will never ever in my life support a g*nocide, especially after having family members who survived a concentration camp during WW2. I do NOT stand by Zionist propaganda, and all the bunch (celebrities and athletes etc.) who are sitting quite regarding this genocide and war, to save their ass because a Zionist is their boss or whatever, can fuck themselves!

And UN…you can fuck yourself too! Allowing the wife of the Chairman of BlackRock to be the Head of UNICF…very smart.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Men arrested for alleged links to Hezbollah released in Brazil

Brazilian courts this week released two men who were arrested in November on suspicion of having links to the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah. The decision came at the request of the Federal Police and was not opposed by prosecutors investigating the case. 

The probe into the possible recruitment of Brazilians to carry out extremist acts in the country began after the men were flagged as suspects by the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). 

At the time, the Israeli government said that its Mossad foreign intelligence service was working with Brazilian security services and other international agencies to “foil a planned attack by Hezbollah against Jewish and Israeli targets in Brazil.”

According to EBC, Brazil’s federal communications agency, the U.S. Embassy tipped off Brazilian authorities on November 1 to possible links between Hezbollah and Brazilian nationals who had recently traveled to Lebanon. Several factors led the FBI to raise red flags about the suspects: the short duration of their trips to Lebanon (for just a few days), as well as their lack of ties to the country and their precarious financial situation for such an expensive trip.

Continue reading.

[jewlasim]

NEW SIMBLR ALERT!

- hello everyone, my name is carol, im a 23 yr old brazillian jewish girl and this is my first ever sims blog. decided to make it bc i always loved seeing all the amazing edits and stories that you guys posted here so i decided to might as well try.

- i always played the sims 3 as a child on my brother's playstation 2 and i bought a laptop just so i could play it again. was not rly being able to get immersed in the game, but after downloading some mods i finally got the kick of it.

- my current storyline is a runawayteen/backpack traveler situation!

- i know nothing about editing but would love to start doing it so if anyone has some tips on how to start i would truly appreciate it.

-also ive been remaking some pre-made sims and does anyone has some good cc for a caleb vatore makeover? I want to stay true to his victorian style so no "alpha emo/e-boy" stuff pls lmao

[danamuseum]

About community

At the picture: Israeli communities gathers at the grass of our neighborhood during one the summer weekends

Dana Golan Miller

Back in Tel Aviv, Israel, my hometown, the concept of community wasn't something I actively thought about. I never really considered myself a part of any particular community. Looking back now, I realize that I was actually part of various communities without even realizing it: the mothers of my youngest son's kindergarten classmates, the community of art curators in Tel Aviv, and even a group of Italian coffee enthusiasts (yes, there was a forum for coffee lovers, believe it or not). Each of these groups shared a common interest that connected us in different ways. They were groups where I felt a sense of belonging and companionship, even though I also cherished my moments of solitude.

It wasn't until I moved with my family to a new adventure, leaving behind the familiarity of Tel Aviv, that I truly understood the significance of community and its impact on our well-being. Now settled in Rockville with my dear spouse and two boys, the decision to choose Rockville over other places around DC was influenced by the presence of the "Israeli community families." Given that our boys were not native English speakers, we believed that being around other kids their age who speak Hebrew would help ease their transition, despite the distance from their friends and family in Israel.

And we were right. Our first experiences in Rockville were quite surprising. We were relieved to find our own community here, something we realized we couldn't have done without. The Israeli community in Rockville tends to reside in the same neighborhood, often referred to as "The Kibbutz" – an interesting term considering its origins in the concept of communal living in Israel, as you can read about here: Kibbutz Wikipedia.

So, what does the concept of community mean to me now in Rockville? It's more than just a group of people with shared values or interests. It encompasses a feeling of belonging, a sense of confidence, and the reassurance that you're never alone. It's a source of help, information, and everyday support: such as: recommendations for children's doctors, suggestions for where to shop for groceries, tips for family travel, guidance on obtaining a U.S. driver's license, and advice on finding the right insurance. It's also about arranging playdates for our kids, offering mutual assistance, and creating opportunities.

What amazed me even more is that the spirit of co-creation thrives within our community. We have a special forum where members who specialize in various fields organize lectures (yes, in Hebrew). If Israeli performers come to DC, the community invites them to showcase their talents. There's even a designated store, aptly named "Moti's Place," where you can purchase Israeli merchandise. The possibilities are vast.

Moreover, within the community, there's a subgroup of "stay-at-home" mothers (though there are also fathers, it's predominantly mothers). These are women who have relocated to the U.S. because their spouses work here, and they've formed their own tight-knit group. Some of them were yoga instructors in Israel, so they organize "yoga in the park" sessions. Others arrange cooking gatherings exclusively for the group. Co-creation within the community can take on many forms based on individuals' skills and what they can contribute to others. And why not continue the art tours I used to organize in Tel Aviv? Here in DC? This is the essence of co-creation within a community.

It's only in this new setting that I truly grasp the significance of community for the well-being of both myself and my family.

You can read more about our neighborhood here….

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/for-israeli-immigrants-farmland-elementary-school-in-rockville-is-the-big-draw/2013/11/05/47e4dcb6-3800-11e3-ae46-e4248e75c8ea_story.html

Jewish community center in Rockville

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

#Dwecember - Eight Nights

So I was going to write dwarf-inspired chanukah fic, but then life happened. Still, here's some unapologetically Jewish holiday fic featuring dwarves. Menorah lighting, Stiffbeard customs, fried foods, remembrance and inter-cultural relations.

--

The Eight Nights

“I don’t understand the time of year, though—” gasped Gaelan as he huffed down the Ereborian street after Vadlik. Though Gaelan stood head and shoulders above the tallest dwarves, it was still a tight squeeze. He’d lived in Dale for ten years now, and never before had he been inside the mountain when the Festival of the Clans was happening. From Vadlik’s excited commentary in the month leading up to the eight nights, he knew that it was a big occasion for not only the Stiffbeards, but for all of the houses of the dwarves. Vadlik slowed, and proffered a leather drinking vessel to Gaelan. The Man took it warily and sniffed it, almost spluttering at the pungent stench of neat spirit. He swigged it anyway; it was colder than he had anticipated, with a blizzard howling down from the nothern hills. The stone under his feet was chilly enough to sap away any warmth his thick socks provided, and Vadlik’s breath puffed out before him in a cloud of wispy vapour. “I don’t know why,” said Vadlik after considering this for a moment. He shrugged. “Something to do? It is cold at this time of year, and we need the light of candles and lamps. The light helps us to see, binds us together. Makes us remember.” Vadlik tapped the side of his skull with a thick, leather-covered finger. At least he had the foresight to bring gloves and a hat with ear-flaps. “Remember is very important to all khazad. Darkness better for remember. The fire good, see many thing in fire when darkness is around.”

Even though the Stiffbeard’s Westron was still quite broken, Gaelan knew exactly what point he was making. There was, he supposed, a reason why even in the religious rites of Men, candles were lit in Temples and a sea of light transformed the prayers of petitioners into an otherworldly experience. Telling stories of old legends in the darkness of a winter night was enhanced by crackling red flames, which leapt and twisted together to create the forms of creatures and figures of ancient times. Remembrance was aided by candlelight, the same way that the races of Middle-Earth had been aided by the rising of the first sun. It was linked in ways that Gaelan couldn’t fully put to words.

They walked together in silence, Gaelan’s huge frame turning heads. Not only was he a Man, of course, but he was also close to seven foot tall. Some dwarves goggled up at him with their jaws hanging open, but Vadlik simply strode in front of him with a proud, disdainful stare, jutting out his jaw as if daring any of them to comment. Gaelan didn’t mind though; he knew his dwarven friend took it more personally (as he suspected he would do if their roles were reversed), but he knew for some more sheltered dwarves it was rare to see someone this tall so far inside Erebor. Still, he greeted everyone with a smile and a ‘Shamukh!’ where appropriate, Vadlik’s liquor burning his oesophagus as he tipped more of it down his throat.

Finally, they stopped in the middle of a square in the Eastern district of Erebor. Here was the confluence of the Red Mountain diaspora among the Longbeards, an enclave where East met West. Gaelan had spent time here, and he smiled down as a few of the dwarves around him waved and shouted his name jovially. Vadlik hugged some other Stiffbeards who were huddled around a brazier at one corner of the square, warming their hands with their hair bedecked in multi-coloured ribbons and the dwarrowdams sporting incredible hats. Something sweet-scented was burning, an incense that Gaelan had last smelled when he had travelled through Kikuama. He breathed in the robust, smoky air, feeling the hair in his nose tingle. A tug at his sleeve brought his gaze down. A small dwarf child was reaching up towards him, shaking something clutched in their fist. He bent down and opened his palm: a small, sticky pastry fell into it. “S’ganit!” Exclaimed Vadlik, who had drunk half the bottle of fire-water and was now weaving. “Very good to eat!” Gaelan popped it in his mouth. It was incredibly oily but coated in a thick layer of sugary syrup that cut through its density. It was delicious. He noticed then that an array of fried foods were being hawked around the edges of the square from various stalls: potato-cakes floated on top of vats of oil; other vendors sold salted, cheese-filled doughs from hand-carts; and a queue of dwarves lined up outside a nearby house, which had the shutters of its kitchen window thrown wide open and a portly Stiffbeard dwarrowdam tipping out rows of s’ganit by the tray full into the hands of customers. “Is this another custom?” Gaelan asked, as he chased Vadlik to the cheese-pastry seller. “Yes,” Vadlik said, waving a handful of coin towards the dwarf, “we have custom to light many oil lanterns, and therefore we eat everything fried in oil!” It was a loose connection to Gaelan, but he didn’t mind. Oil-fried foods was one of his favourite food groups.

After Vadlik had bought Gaelan and himself a dozen pastries and fried potato hashes, which he doused with a dollop of soured cream, they crouched down on the porch of a closed shop-front to eat. “So — what will happen tonight, then?” Gaelan asked, his eyes straying to the huge, unlit candelabra that had been erected in the centre of the square. It was eight-pronged, like a trident, built elaborately from brass. One of the candle-holders was positioned higher than the others at the left-most side, while the others were still lower. It stood around twice his height. “One of the elders of Stiffbeards will light this tonight,” Vadlik said, gesturing towards the candelabra. “They will make blessing for all of us, for our Clan, for our homeland.” “And each of the eight nights,” Gaelan went on, “is to commemorate a different house of the dwarves?” “The eighth night — final night — is for all of us. The seven coming together as one,” Vadlik corrected. “Tonight, night five, is a special night for Stiffbeards. Stiffbeard night tonight. Many songs, many dances. You see costume dances — dwarves will dress as animals and dance: many will dress as one mammoth!” “A mammoth! You mean, one for the head, and one for the arse?” Gaelan laughed, imagining him and Vadlik taking on the role of mammoth-dancing. He’d much prefer to be a head than a backside, though. “No — many dwarf! Sometimes six will be one mammoth on… ah—” Vadlik mimed something being attached to the bottom of his legs. “Stilts? They dance as a mammoth… on stilts?” “Yes,” said Vadlik, raising his eyebrow at him, “no short mammoth. Tall mammoth.” He supposed he was right about that. As more and more dwarves crowded into the square, Vadlik recounted tales of his youth as a drummer for a band of mammoth-dancers, and how competitive difference dancers got; not just those dressed as mammoths, but those who performed as a whole host of beasts and creatures for the fifth-night carnival. Snow leopards, birds, dragons, and even nuruk, ancestral spirits, all came alive in intricate costumes — stitched with a mosaic of spiralling, glittering beadwork, and even outfitted with moving eyes and mouths.

Before that, however, the lights had to be kindled. A hush fell over the square as an elderly Stiffbeard mounted a set of steps next to the candelabra, assisted by a carven cane. Their face was so deeply lined and brown that they looked as though they had been hewn from an ancient oak tree. Their plaited hair stuck out on either side of a huge, tiered fur hat, and their shoulders bowed under the weight of yak-pelt furs. Someone passed them a torch from below the steps, and they raised it high above their head. A few, commanding words of khuzdul were uttered, though their dialect and accent was so thick that Gaelan could barely understand with his limited knowledge of the dwarven tongue. Vadlik, however, intoned the set responses next to him solemnly along with the rumble of the crowd. The Stiffbeard elder bent forwards slightly, and touched the tip of the torch to the first oil well, the largest of the eight. It went up in a spurt of yellow flame. Then, slowly, they lit five more. Even at a distance, Gaelan felt the heat on his forehead, and shouted in a cheer as the whole square erupted in screaming and clapping. He grinned caught sight of Vadlik’s face, dark eyes reflecting the light in their depths. The beginning of a memory, perhaps. “Khag sameakh!” Vadlik said, gripping Gaelan’s forearm. “Khag sameakh, Vadlik,” Gaelan replied. Tonight he would remember the time they met, the words of khuzdul he had been taught that he still held dear, the many times he had sat at a cramped, food-laden dwarven table in a Stiffbeard’s house and been shown boundless hospitality. Tonight, his heart got just a little more dwarven.