For some inexplicable reason in Israel New Year is
named after St. Sylvester.
Who? You may ask. And you would not be alone. Most
Anglos (Israelis-from English speaking countries) have a similar reaction when
their visit first coincides with the end of the secular year.
In the England I remember, New Year is more closely
associated with images of the Roman Janus and wild bacchanalia than anything
religious. During my childhood in the 1970s the BBC turned over its programming
to BBC Scotland with Gaelic celebrations of Hogmanay involving haggis and
sword-dancing.
And for most English-speakers Sylvester is a lisping
feline constantly and unsuccessfully scheming to devour 'Tweety Pie'.
However it turns out that Sylvester is also the name
of a pope who became a saint who is quite popular in Scandinavia.
St Sylvester and Constatine
I can only
guess that the reason Israelis decided to name New Year after an obscure
Scandinavian saint is due to the influence of Swedish kibbutz volunteers!
We haven’t ever made much of an attempt to celebrate
New Year except for 1999-2000 when Israel was one of only 2 countries in the world
not to hold millennial celebrations. We marked the occasion by trekking to a
local dance club in the middle of a field. Nobody seemed to notice that we were
the oldest there by several years except security guard who gave a broad grin
at the sight of our child seat.
Oher years we tend to 'celebrate' by filling a glass
with alcohol, falling asleep on the sofa, waking at 1:30am to make a
half-hearted effort at emptying our glasses accompanied by a kiss and a 'Happy
New Year' and then we drag ourselves to bed. Last year(I mean 2014) we just had
a drink at 10pm and went straight to bed.
The reason for this apathy is that most years Eyal
spends 31st December stock-taking so that even if he arrives home on
time he is exhausted – hence the falling asleep on the sofa. In addition 1st
January is an ordinary workday – hence the dragging ourselves to bed.
In Israel New Year is only really celebrated by
young Tel Avivians – who are pleased for any excuse to party, and
Israeli-Russians - who celebrate Novogod, an Orthodox Christian celebration
that was drained of all religious significance by the Soviet authorities and is
now considered a secular celebration by many Russian Jews.
Anyway in 2015 my husband moved to a different
position at his company, one that involves no stocking-taking. Also 31st
December was a Thursday so no work the morning after!
***
Luckily I had realised that our favourite pub Molly Blooms might be a
bit busy and made reservations so when we arrived at 10:30 we were shown to a
small table. It was somewhat squashed but we all shuffled round and soon made
friends with our neighbours.
On one side were a family group covering a range of
ages, their accents giving away their Irish ancestry. On the other side were an
Israeli couple about our age who soon started chatting. Standing close to the
bar were the younger contingent with any late comers that could squeeze in. And
in the middle of the room were a couple of groups each including an woman aged
about 50-60 with extremely short white-grey hair and long flappy designer
dresses (a la Vivienne Westwood). So quintessentially Tel Aviv, at least for gauche
Northerners like us! J
The wait staff were all charmingly friendly even
though they barely had room to squeeze past and we quickly ordered drinks and
some supper.
Guinness and burger for him, Fish&chips (with salt&vinegar not ketchup yay!)
Once the band started up with traditional Irish
tunes everyone relaxed into the celebratory atmosphere. We were sitting close
to the flutist and it was mesmerizing watching his fingers fly over the keys.
He played such a variety of flutes and recorders and barely had time to drink
his Guinness!
The band
Soon it was midnight, shot glasses of champagne were
passed out and after the count down we all tried to remember the words to
"Auld Lang Syne".
Pretty quickly after that people started to leave
for home taking advantage of a break in the pouring rain.
Our table was next to the window and for most of the
evening the view was of a blanket of rain, droplets tumbled this way and that
by the howling wind. A few people passed by and some of the more curious gazed
in most people retreated from the streets to somewhere warm and dry.
About 1am there was another break in the cloudburst
and we trotted along to our hotel wrapped up tight in hats, scarves and gloves
thankful for the decent winter coats we had bought last year in England.
After a short battle of strength with the wind in
order to open the front door we were soon snuggled cozily in our room. The room
was warm but opposite the hotel was a
building site and throughout the night the wind serenaded us, strumming an
eerie lullaby on the metal construction spikes.
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