Tales from the Towers: Israeli girls are prettier

Twice a year we must cope with that disconcerting matter regarding our clocks. A few days earlier we are urged by newspaper, TV and radio that it's time to move our clocks to wintertime. And as if this would not be enough, friends all around remind us again and again: "don't forget the clock tonight!"

Strange thing is that we are supposed to do all this exactly at 1 o'clock in the morning, not sooner, not later. Now why should I, who, I hope will be blissfully asleep at one o'clock a.m. get up and start adjusting my wristwatch, my VCR clock, my kitchen clock, my alarm clock, thank God there's no need to do anything to my computer, a friend tells me, because a computer computes and does this by itself - all  of them to be moved one hour back? And what would happen if I'd do all that at 10 o'clock in the evening before going to sleep? And how is it, that although I've moved all the clocks back, I seem to be one hour ahead when I get up in the morning?

There is one other thing: Having two children abroad, a whole new problem arises in figuring out the time difference. The difference between Germany and Israel is one hour, how will it be now, will the difference be two hours, or will one o'clock in Israel be one o'clock in Germany as well? I don't even want to think of what this clock changing means to Israel versus California and how will I ask my kids there to figure it out for me without them laughing their heads off? And what about my cousins in New York? One o'clock in New York is what time here?

Trouble is the same problem arises twice a year and it disrupts our lives - or at least my life!

An additional complication is that clocks in Israel are changed one month earlier than elsewhere. So by the time we have the whole thing figured out and one month has gone by, we have to start the whole calculation again from scratch!.

This morning, outside on the balcony, I got a whiff of kitchen activity. Someone was cooking. And baking. Who in Heaven's name would cook and bake here in the Towers? And how in heaven's name could I get myself invited? Trying to locate what's going on in what apartment here is quite impossible! Actually once I managed to locate a certain apartment by means of language. It seems that someone was listening to a sports program, maybe soccer or football, at highest decibels at just the time when I was trying to fall asleep. But then I listened more carefully to the noise and discovered that the man on the TV or radio shouted in ... Italian! Great, I had solved the riddle. Wonderful detective work. Next day in the dining room I approached Anton, who had spent most of his life in Italy, and reproached him:

"If you want to listen to football or whatever else, please don't make me listen as well! Just close your window!"

"Who says football? It's a beauty contest!"

"How can it be a beauty contest? It's been going on for days! At a beauty contest one usually just chooses the prettiest girl, puts a crown on her head, gives her some cash  a Cadillac, and it's all done!"

"Ah, that's where you are wrong", said my neighbor, "Italy is full of beautiful girls and it takes weeks to decide which one is the prettiest!"

Anton is ninety or more years old but the advancing age has not diminished his appreciation of female beauty. His eyes shine happily, he smiles broadly in recollection of all those pretty girls he sees every evening, and he starts to tell me:

"You see...there is nothing in the world as beautiful as an Italian girl and they shine like the stars in the sky and let me tell you..."

I don't want him to tell me. I want to have lunch. So in case you are about to eat too, I wish you Bon Appetit.

And ... Israeli girls are prettier, believe me!

Lucca