Dinner With the Minister

It’s kind of typical really. Australia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs visits Israel and not a single line about it in the online newspapers, not even in the Australian papers, not even in the obituaries. I don’t get it really. And Australia and especially Alexander Downer are such stalwart supporters of Israel, kind of like a mammoth Micronesia.
Put it down to one of life’s little mysteries.
I wouldn’t have known about it at all if I hadn’t got an invite to a private dinner in his honour at the dazzling Presidents Hall in the King David Hotel.
I hesitated a little at first. What would my lefty old mates say? But then again I thought what the hell; I’ve been to a Liberal Party fundraiser at the Rocks on Sydney Harbour and I’m sure that was a lot easier to cope with, as an Israeli, than the Labour Party equivalent. At least I didn’t have to apologise.
So I said yes.
Over the weeks uncertainties about sartorial aptness started troubling my thoughts. I even did some research and read up on the guest of honour in a wikipedia entry. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paul Keating contributed that one. The caustic humour had me smiling to myself vacantly, wandering the streets of occupied Bakaa. A policeman even detained me, on suspicion of having Jerusalem Syndrome.
I sent the confirmation of the invitation to my mother so she could have a bit of nuchus and to my sister to prove that I am mellowing. Of the two of us, my sister is the one who lives in Sydney’s eastern suburbs and has more than 2 neurones that synapse. Then the night before the dinner she sent an email advising me to take a bunch of business cards. Good idea really. Never would have crossed my mind in a lifetime.
And luckily she knows me well enough to realise that she’d have to tell me how to go about it. It took quite a while and more geometric prowess than I thought I could muster picking out a shirt and adjusting the borders of the Word document to fit the dimensions of the perforated cards, all at the same time.
I arrived at the do a bit late though, so I missed the drinks and major circulating period, (a bit of a pity after I spent 25 shekels to get my suit jacket pressed). But I still found some outlets (or victims) for palming off the cards. It’s rather amusing as a phenomenon. It’s a damn sight easier than having to actually bullshit on about yourself. And I noticed that anyone that I handed one of my cards to instantly gave me one of theirs back. Made me think of what one might call, a righteous man’s STD.
The food was good, very good, especially the decadently porno thickness beef. And the beverages were very decent too. Here’s an abridged inventory of some of the delicacies we wickedly enjoyed: salmon symphony, pink grapefruit sorbet, fillet of beef with rouennaise sauce, fresh figs tart tatin. I know that the event was a joint effort between The Australian Embassy and the IACC but full marks to the mystery organiser. So while you’re wiping the spittle off your keyboard think about it, if more of you would contribute pieces to the blog you might find yourselves partaking in some IACC nosh up in the future, too.
The speakers were tolerable too. Think of all the kochav nolad reruns you’ve sat through. Stanley Fischer gave a rundown on the Israeli economy. He has a very a commendable command of the English language for an Israeli bureaucrat. (ha ha ) Bibi must have given him a few pointers before his appointment. I don’t know if it’s something Massachusettsian in his accent or the time he spent studying in Britain but at times his accent reminded me of Martin Indyc’s. And though I know it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, some Israelis should get their speeches professionally translated before unleashing their mashed English on unsuspecting by passers. No such denigration should be meted out to Leon Kempler, Chairman of the IACC. And last but not least we heard from the guest of honour, the Hon. Alexander Downer, M.P., Australian Minister for Foreign Affairs too. Something that struck me during the acceptance speech of his honorary Doctorate were the generous lashings of self demeaning humour peppering his presentation. It certainly strikes a chord with a Jewish audience. An interesting aside in his speech was his anecdote of a sophomoric experience with a Jewish flatmate and her Israeli cousin during the Yom Kippur War that hardwired him into being the antithesis of a fashion victim in his views about Israel, and adamantly so. I’m a bit more cynical about us than he is. But it’s interesting to note how the effect of a youthful cathartic moment can profoundly mark a politician’s attitude for years to come.
As I was leaving at the end of the evening I had to look out for Paul Israel and congratulate him on the resounding success of the evening. His response to me was, “I hope you write about it on the blog.”
How naïve I am and how blind I’d been to the potential of another story. But as you can see I did it the hard way after all. Hope I've supplied the goods. So there you go Paul, thanks, for the story idea as well.