My Tel Aviv Prt I

The flight on Euroflot airlines was the ost interesting I have ever had. Top 40 Russian beats bopped from the stereo when I climbed aboard and the food was…different. I can now say that I’ve tried steak on board a plane before, and that it was akin to trying to eat my own thumb: painful, raw, and impossible. The girl sitting next to me with a matching dark-brown blunt bob ignored me as I sat down. It suited me just fine. Plane conversations tend to be even more painful than that steak I tried to eat.

The Russian airport was small. Passengers milled around; burly men with beers, Americans with over-priced glasses of vodka. People milled around the smoking room- a closed-in box of tear-jerking fumes. Past the many bald heads and dyed-blonde hair was a large sign, almost hidden by the cigarette smoke: “smoking is bad for your health”. I wanted to snap a photo, but the guards looked dangerous. At least I got a (big) chance to practice my Russian. Dasvedanya, Moscva, ee Preevet Israel!

The heat once I landed wasn’t so bad- in the shade. The city is easy to navigate: from the airport, take the train to Tel Aviv centre, from there just take virtually any bus to Ben Yehuda Street or Allenby.

Figures that I would get lost the first day- and with a 60-pound backpack on my shoulders, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and leggings. I had sauntered onto the wrong bus, and managed to get off at the wrong stop, in Batyam. It’s like if I was trying to get to Shepperd subway station and got off at Yonge and Bloor. More wandering in the dry heat, which managed to make me sweat, nonetheless.

I managed to find a place to stay. It’s not a house or a hostel, but a room in this couple’s apartment. What a massive coincidence that I ran into them. They happen to be Russian, and have a fluffy spastic cat that follows me everywhere- even into the washroom. He just sits there in the shower, staring pensively at me. Haunting.

The city is small and full of tourists. The Americans, Canadians and Brits congregate near the beach, right at the corner of Ben Yehuda and Allenby. You can spot them easily here, because they tend to be loud, burnt, and drunk. All of their dorm-style hostels and the pricier Sheraton and Park hotels are right in this area. There are lots of striped blue and red umbrellas here, and some very drunk young people.  At the beach, people play- bikini and shorts-clad, in the white sand. No swimming, though- because usually there are no lifeguards and the water looks like a tsunami is brewing. But I’m still giving it a shot today.

I had lunch at a falafel place yesterday. I wish I could say it tasted so “different” from Toronto falafel or that I could “taste the authenticity”, but it was what I expected. It was delicious, fresh, and the falafel balls were warm (what are those called?) Followed up with a chai and chat with the owner, who happens to teach the oude to youngsters, I was ready for more exploration.

It’s no coincidence that I’m writing this in the afternoon, it’s close to 35 Celsius outside and this cafe happens to have free air-conditioning with computer use. I can’t even imagine going for a jog in this heat, which locals seems to think is perfectly enactable. Personally, I’ll wait until six pm or so.

I walked purposefully outside the flat today- you see, I have a tourist-friendly plan to enact. Places of interest include the Yemenite Quarter,  buying a watch and T-shirt somewhere on Dizengoff, and beach time (when the sun isn’t so angry). There is a French cafe near the apartment, called “Cafe pour Amico” I believe. The red overhang throws the seats and tiny tables in blissful shade. I had a very un-interesting breakfast of salmon on rye and a latte. Inside, the displays are lined with small chocolates, tiny candy-coloured treats and golden croissants. They were tempting, but something about the heat just kills my appetite. New diet: eat sun and drink water.

Something that caught my attention right away is the multi-religious landscape- worned (literally)- on the sleeve. Some women wear full,  ground-brushing skirts with layered, long-sleeved shirts and hair covered in flat woven hats. Others wear fashionable mini-dresses, bearing shoulders and legs. Still others don styles reminiscent of the 1990’s: clunky black platforms, tight white pants, and sequined tops. Ouch. The men are usually topless near the beach, or wear all black (I think these are the old-style Jewish people) and anything from jeans to short-shorts. On that note, I’m off to buy something flimsy and breeze- creating.

[This post has not been very creative, literary-wise. I'm still getting over jetlag and adjusting to the new climate. Maybe there will be some descriptions of  "sun-bleached crumbling architecture" or "splotches of red lillies, hanging over low yellow stone walls" and maybe even "the cloying smell of warming oranges, glistening in the afternoon sun" later on. But for now, all I can manage is "I need to buy a dress beacuse these jeans are killing me". So I guess you'll just have to wait.]

Exploitation of Creativity

Over the past year, I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend in work opportunities for writers. The field of journalism is slowly becoming a veritable sweat shop of ideas, time, and effort. Internship positions, once great opportunities for beginner’s to gain entry into the writing field, have become an easy way for companies to save money.

Shortly after the recession began making news headlines in North America, newspapers saw a sudden drop in advertising dollars. This, in turn, left many large news organizations scrambling to cut costs- and jobs. But interns are now filling that gap by working just as hard as the average paid Joe- yet getting none of the recognition.

I received this “opportunity” e-mail blast from the journalism department this week:

“Boards” is an international trade magazine for the advertising industry covering creativity, production and the burgeoning world of new media. We’re looking to take on editorial interns on an ongoing basis to research, write and undertake admin duties for our magazine, website and bi-weekly online newsletter.

The expected duties, as listed in this chance-of-a-lifetime, include such tasks as: “researching new commercial and music video work, generating daily story ideas, interviewing and writing for the weekly newsletter and magazine. They go on to list admin responsibilities like research and transcribing”.

We’re always talking in class about that last line of a story, the kicker. So here’s their take on it: “The position is unpaid. Hours are from 9.30am to 6pm Monday-Friday”.

Not only are intern positions like this unfair, but they also begin to set an industry standard. Previously lauded work is now expected for free. Exploitation is now only thinly masked as a rigorous “learning experience” or a means of gaining “valuable accreditation”. Boards Magazine is not the source of the problem, and they are most definitely not the only workplace engaging in unfair work practices. But they are part of the problem.

The irony here is that Boards magazine is focused on creative media, such as writing and design, and the commerical aspects of it. In other words, they know creativity doesn’t come for free- it comes at a price, just like any other work. Their June/ July issue even touts that they know what’s awesome, “And it doesn’t start with ‘r’ and end with ‘ecession’”. However un-awesome the R-word is, it’s apparently a good enough excuse for many media companies, this one included, to take advantage of students and young graduates.

Many smaller news or media companies need the extra start-up help from dedicated interns who are definitely not expected to work full-time for no renumeration. And the media giants need the kind of intern help of yore: research, running erands, writing- all on a realistic level for someone working solely for the experience.

Yes, the economy is in a recession and the creative industry has been hit quite hard. But this does not give any company the right to pay some sucker absolutely nothing to take on a position that demands a hefty paycheck. To give you an idea of what an honest company should be paying a journalist for this position, why don’t we look at Boards expectations and compare it to the industry standards:

- An administrative assistant is paid at least 12 dollars per hour at any given workplace. Even hair salons pay their employees this base rate for the handling of a multi-line telephone, filing, and organizing.

-Document and interview transcribing is part and parcel of writing any story for verification and quotes. However, transcribing for any outside sources is worth at least 10 dollars per hour (this was the going rate three years ago when I transcribed for a Toronto- based journalist’s documentary).

-The interviewing, research, and story generation for the newletter and magazine aspect is the only clean part of the poition. This is the general expectation from an intern.

These responsibilities are not difficult to manage, they are not outlandish, and they are certainly not unheard of. Where this listed placement crosses the line into exploitation territory is the fact that someone will be working for free interning for over 40 hours per week. Forty hours of the succesful applicant’s time per week will be sacrificed for free, and for something that should most definitely not be an unpaid position. That is a lot of time that could go towards working as an administrative assistant for a news organization or writing for a paper that actually pays.

Internships are a symbiosis: the workplace gets a contributing hard-working rookie, and the start-up writer gets experience and creds. But if you’re a journalist looking for experience, then intern at a news organization that respects the writers’ time and work. And that doesn’t turn a valuable internship into a blatantly parasytic exploitation.

Tamils close road, open dialogue

Apparently, inconvenience on the road in Toronto is a more pressing matter than growing human rights abuses in Sri Lanka. Or at least it is, according to Terence Corcoran, of the National Post.

The most recent large-scale Tamil protest which shut down the Gardiner expressway late Sunday night is treated as a common nuisance- at most-by this callous writer. There was no thought put behind his words, and he clearly can’t see the big picture.

“…if it is legal for Tamils to shut down main thoroughfares, and get big headlines for their cause, then it should be legal for all causes.” Really, Corcoran-really? Where is the logic behind that one, or a little something called thought process. The reason Torontonian Tamils and their allies shut down a major road (at a time of least convenience for drivers, by the way) was to promote a vital issue. And, yes, Corcoran, you are right that it is a life/ death situation. Which is why such drastic steps were taken. Other options have been exhausted in the past. And so the “deductive reasoning” Sherlock uses here is that this option should be available to all causes now, just by virtue that it has already been accomplished once. And for menial causes, no less, such as his made-up CHAOS group.

Corcoran’s most pressing concern is about fairness: “if they can do it and get away with it legal ramification-free, then everyone should do it- and for any reason,” he seems to whine, stomping his feet. What I deem even less fair is that it takes a mass demonstration to get the Canadian government’s attention on such a pressing issue as a possible genocide.

He states that it’s an issue of free speech more than anything. I beg to differ, as I’m sure thousands of Tamils, Palestinians, and other victims of gross human rights abuses around the world would. Their causes are largely ignored by the majority of North Americans until it’s staring a driver down on a major road on his way in to the city. The blockading of the Gardiner was as much for the resulting media attention as it was a cry for recognition from the Canadian government, which was up until that point reluctant to put pressure on the Sri Lankan government. The “big headlines” put the issue into the minds of countless Canadians.

Corcoran states that the Tamils were simply promoting “a cause” (he even equates it with his dummy self-devised CHAOS group). But the mass condemnation of human rights abuses- even half a world away- is not the same as any interest group. Putting it simply, the Gardiner closure was aimed at justice and protection of life; it was a selfless protest, not a selfish self-promotion.

Finally, where is the compassion and a sense of feeling, oh I dunno, guilty for writing such nonsense, Corcoran? I wonder if he even bothered to research the Sri Lankan civil war at all, which has killed so many innocent Tamils that it’s labelled a genocide by many.

He should have used the time it took to write his diatribe, and applied it to writing up the signs held by protestors at the demonstration. It would have been far more effective.