Yiddish Dictionary: Nudzh (boring person)

5777 de nederlandse manier: New hope for a new year

On a crisp Fall morning in suburban Amsterdam, two young men wielding assault rifles are smiling at me.  I grin back sheepishly, reflecting how grateful and how saddened I am by their presence all at once.  

They are a security detail from the Koninklijke Landmacht (Royal Dutch Army), you see, and they're standing guard outside of the Liberaal Joodse Gemeente Amsterdam, a progressive shul I found on the internet before boarding my quarterly flight from Narita to Schipol.  I've been invited by Mevr Chelly, a staple of the LJG Sisterhood to join for Rosh Hashannah services.

Entering the synagogue I am comforted by welcoming architecture and the gracious young family hanging the coats along with me at the entrance.  As we make our way up a sweeping cedar staircase I am met with another "high and low" moment.  The sanctuary, elegantly laden with three tiers of maple pews and awash in early autumn sunlight, is nearly empty.  Scattered around the room with a capacity to seat 700 davaners are a few dozen couples in their 60's and 70's.  Outside of the young family I appear to be the Spring chicken of the bunch, and I am left to wallow in the notion that I've found the last Jews of Northern Europe.  Whilst a young blond cantor belts out a litany of warm-up niguns I am playing Willie Nelson's "The Party's Over" inside of my brain.

But then something happens.  15 minutes go buy, and I note a cadre of young, attractive couples exchanging triplicate kisses before dawning their tzitzit.  Another few minutes go by, and I know I am wedged between families with young children.  By 10 am, the place has nicely filled up.  Avinu Malkeinu, a great drash from a young entrepreneur in the community (who cares if I can't speak a lick of Dutch!  I know it when I see a great public speaker!) and a wispy bald guy who blows the shofar in front of a phalanx of kids. 

As I make my way past the guards towards the nearest Metro to LJG they tip their berets at me and wish me "L'shannah Tova!", and suddenly I'm hopeful.

Not too bad at all.

Daven for Hire

Japan’s Newest Technology Innovation: Priest Delivery http://nyti.ms/2cWBG0J

THINGS TO DO IN TOKYO-YIDDISHHUSTLE RECOMMENDS: Yakult Swallows Base @ Meiji-Jingu Stadium

Nestled in the charming Shimbashi-Ginza District, Meiji-Jingu Stadium beckons the faithful flocks of Yakult Swallows fans as well as broader baseball enthusiasts from around the planet.

It's intimate proportions (only 37,933 seating capacity and 394 ft to straight-away center) make for a congenial evening of beer, brots and ballyhoo.  The latter can be found in the abundant traditions of die-hard Swallows Fans that include:

• Deploying "kawaii"/cute umbrellas at the on-set of any run scored by the Swallows
• Legions of white and blue clad fans in right field who perpetually cheer and sing Hava Nagila whilst the Swallows are on defense
• Scores of blue and green sheethed fans in left field who play polka songs and lilting Japanese traditional hymns while the Swallows are at the plate

In 1934 Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth and Jimmie Foxx led a caudre of American all-stars on a 22 game tour of Japan.  During their game at Meiji-Jingu Matsutao Shoriki (popularly acknowledged as the Father of Japanese Baseball) received a 16-inch gash from a broadsword at the hands of radicals who were none-too-pleased that gaijin were being allowed to step foot on the hallowed grounds of the "Jingu".  

. . . apparently The Babe was not up to snuff, and thankfully Shoriki-san survived the attack.

Family Fun in the Wasatch Mountains!

So True!

Nice Cargo Shorts! You’re Sleeping on the Sofa http://www.wsj.com/articles/nice-cargo-shorts-youre-sleeping-on-the-sofa-1470082856

I've made a terrible mistake

Looking the chinchilla in the eye, I can immediately detect that he detects my fear.

My fur-suit friend is perched in the shady goodness of a banyan tree, and I am soaking in gi-normous infinity pool below.  We are at the edge of Yala National Park, which prides itself on being the very end of Sri Lanka which fancies itself to the tear drop of the Indian Sub-continent.  So there is a kind of fatalism that he and I are dealing with at the moment.

Back to me fear.  It's not really a fear so much as a concern. Not yet a full blow consternation but also not a flighty unease. What vexes me is skin deep, you see.  Over the past 18 months of my life I have been toting my family around Southeast Asia in search of the perfect tan.  Sri Lanka's 38 C degrees (which translates in Fahrenheit to "witch tits hot") provides a kind of final firing/kiln effect to round out the shades of Thai swarth, Balinese teak, Vietnamese cha-shu and Cambodian Kmher amber.

Here in this pool, with Mr. Chinchilla as my witness I come to a reckoning;  all of this Singaporean safety, commercial efficiency and childcare will come to a rude end.  We are moving to Japan, you see, and soon the tan and tropics will give way to the enigma within a puzzle within the go game that is Life in Tokyo.  And beyond Japan, the notion of making our third international move in as many years leads me to believe that my dear wife may be reaching for the divorce papers (or perhaps the silencer to muffle out the Walther PPK?).

While it may seem like an act of mind-blowing misjudgement I intend to prove myself wrong in the weeks and months to come.  In fact, moving back (aha! an intriguing sub-plot) to Tokyo will be a BRILLIANT move in Life's little game of chess.

Haberdashery: Out on a limb with linen

"We're saving the best for last," my friend and mentor, Parichat, quipped as we were whisked to the 52nd floor.  "In the whole city of Bangkok, these are the guys to know."

Since arriving in the (original City of Angels) I had been wended through a merciless covey of meet-and-greet affairs with the top brass and owners of the finest hotels in Thailand.  It was a humbling arrangement in that each one of these guys was what my late mother would have called a "British peacock",  When it came to making a good impression she implored me to "dress British; think Yiddish." An odd maxim of style and good sense that somehow was stuffed away deep in my gray matter for ages to come. And so on a raging hot February afternoon in 2015 my counterparts were all ensconced head to toe in high-twist super 170'sh Tasmanian wool, elegant cravates and hand-turned Oxford lace-ups.  

As the elevator door faded open a phalanx of hostess girls guided me with a knowing hand to Mr. R, a dandy from Delhi who served as the demure "No. 2" in the operation.  We retired to a well polished cocktail table replete with views of the majestic Chao Phraya River.  Highballs of Chivas Royal Salute and bowls of fist-sized Thai cashews were presented.  With nourishment at hand, we eased into the round robin of small talk before a figure emerged from the elevator hall.  Unlike all the other members of the hotelier power elite, Mr. D, the No. 1, was clad in an impeccably tailored, whimsically rumpled linen sports blazer.

It was the coral hue of your grandmother's wine, blushing zinfandel, with perhaps a drop of red food coloring for emphasis . Mr. D carried the look with idle grace.  G. Bruce Boyer takes a page from Castiglione and coins it as " . . . a certain nonchalance

[sprezzatura] which conceals all artistry and

makes whatever one says or does seem

uncontrived and effortless.”  

In contrast, I felt like a prized idiot sporting my "start-up" uniform of overpriced heritage loom dungarees "complimented" by a rather affected striped shirt.  Despite a rosy commercial outcome to the whole Chivas and Cashew Summit I sensed I had let my mother down but not playing a more dapper part, even amidst the oppressive heat of the early Adaman Spring in Asia. 

So on the auspicious occasion of my daughter's sixth birthday I secured an audience with Mimi Lee, the legendary haberdasher of 37 Tran Hung

Dao Road in Hoi An, Vietnam.  A dedicated 

Padawan of linen for more than 15 years, Mrs. Lee shepherded me through the array of swatches before confirming a subtle blonde-stone starter blazer (sprezzatura indeed and approving glance from my wife) and a more dubious royal blue jacket (a slightly raised eyebrow from my wife followed closely by a knowing smile).  

 . . after all, we peacocks need to spread our tail feathers every now and then.  

Trip to Hoi An, Vietnam

All the spice Traders

China, Japan, India

Travelled through Hoi An

That sums it up . . . 

. . . and wonderful food touring to boot!

Guide to Being a Mensch (kinda)

Courtesy of #GSElevator

• Stop talking about where you went to college.
• Always carry cash. Keep some in your front pocket.
• Rebel from business casual. Burn your khakis and wear a suit or jeans.
• It’s ok to trade the possibility of your 80s and 90s for more guaranteed fun in your 20s and 30s.
• Never stay out after midnight three nights in a row… Unless something really good comes up on the third night.
• You will regret your tattoos.
• Never date an ex of your friend.
• Join Twitter; become your own curator of information.
• If riding the bus doesn’t incentivise you to improve your station in life, nothing will.
• Time is too short to do your own laundry.
• When the bartender asks, you should already know what you want to drink.
• If you perspire, wear a damn undershirt.

• Hookers aren’t cool, but remember, the free ones are a lot more expensive.
• When people don’t invite you to a party, you really shouldn’t go.
 And sometimes even when you are invited, you shouldn’t go.
• People are tired of you being the funny, drunk guy.
• When in doubt, always kiss the girl.
• Tip more than you should.
• You probably use your mobile phone too often and at the wrong moments.
• Buy expensive sunglasses. Superficial? Yes, but so are the women judging you. And it tells these women you appreciate nice things and are responsible enough not to lose them.
• Do 50 push-ups, sit-ups, and dips before you shower each morning.
• Eat brunch with friends at least every other weekend. Leave Rusty and Junior at home.
• Be a regular at more than one bar.
• Act like you’ve been there before. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the end zone at the Super Bowl or on a private plane.
• A glass of wine or two with lunch will not ruin your day.
• Learn how to fly-fish.

• No selfies. Aspire to experience photo-worthy moments in the company of a beautiful woman.
• Own a handcrafted shotgun. It’s a beautiful thing.
• There’s always another level. Just be content knowing that you are still better off than most who have ever lived.
• You can get away with a lot more if you’re the one buying the drinks.
• Ask for a salad instead of fries.
• Don’t split a check.
• Pretty women who are unaccompanied want you to talk to them.
• When a bartender buys you a round, tip double.
• Be spontaneous.
• Find a Times New Roman in the streets and a Wingdings in the sheets. She exists.
• Piercings are liabilities in fights.

• Do not use an electric razor.
• Desserts are for women. Order one and pretend you don’t mind that she’s eating yours.
• Buy a tuxedo before you are 30. Stay that size.
• One girlfriend at a time is probably enough.
• #StopItWithTheHastags
• Your ties should be rolled and placed in a sectioned tie drawer.
• Throw parties. 
But have someone else clean up the next day.
• Measure yourself only against your previous self.
• Take more pictures. With a camera.
• Place-dropping is worse than-name dropping.
• Your clothes do not match. They go together.
• Yes, of course you have to buy her dinner.
•  Staying angry is a waste of energy.
• If she expects the person you are 20% of the time, 100% of the time, then she doesn’t want you.
• Always bring a bottle of something to the party.
• Don’t use the word “closure” or ever expect it in real life.
• If you are wittier than you are handsome, avoid loud clubs.
• Date women outside your social set. You’ll be surprised.
• If it’s got velvet ropes and lines, walk away unless you know someone.
• You cannot have a love affair with whiskey because whiskey will never love you back.
• If you believe in evolution, you should know something about how it works.
• No-one cares if you are offended, so stop it.
• Never take an ex back. She tried to do better and is settling with you.
• Eating out alone can be magnificent. Find a place where you can sit at the bar.
• Read more. It allows you to borrow someone else’s brain, and will make you more interesting at a dinner party — provided that you don’t initiate conversation with, “So, who are you reading…”
• Ignore the boos. They usually come from the cheap seats.
• Don’t ever say, “it is what it is.”
• Don’t gamble if losing $US100 is going to piss you off.
• Remember, “rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men.”

John LeFevre is the creator of @GSElevator on Twitter, and the author of the New York Times bestselling book, Straight To Hell: True Tales of Deviance, Debauchery, And Billion-Dollar Deals