Travel and Leisure

A brief introduction to the cultural background of Israeli food

The Embassy of Israel recently hosted a cooking workshop under the theme “Israel’s diversity: Stories behind the dishes”, introducing the many Israeli communities through their unique culinary traditions. The event took place at the newly opened Helena Restaurant in Sukhumvit Soi 51. 
 
The Jewish nation has a long history of thousands of years, though the State of Israel was established only in 1948. At the establishment, the population of the young country was about 800,000 people, 650,000 of them were Jewish, and the rest were Muslims, Christians and other minorities.
 
Since the establishment of the State, waves of Jewish migrations have arrived from all over the world, the biggest waves being from Iran, Iraq, Yemen, the former USSR, Turkey, Syria, Ethiopia, Morocco, Tunisia and Europe. By 2022 the population of Israel reached 9.5 million people, about 74% of them are Jewish. The migration throughout the years has created, not only a very diverse population, but a blend of many of these cultures. That diversity is reflected very well in the Israeli cuisine, which is a mixture of various dishes from different origins, as well as new fusion dishes.

In the workshop, participants learned how to make several dishes which originated from other countries and are part of the Israeli cuisine, such as Challah, Shakshuka and Falafel. The workshop was followed by lunch comprising more than 25 Israeli dishes, showcasing the various flavours and colours of Israeli cuisine.

Ambassador Orna Sagiv explained to the audience, “The diversity of Israel’s population is quite unique, compared to most countries which tends to be more homogeneous. This diversity presents many opportunities and plays a major role in the development of the young country. The various flavours of the Israeli cuisine, as well as the new fusion food, combining the different ingredients, is a manifest of the “melting pot” Israel became for these various cultural groups. In today’s workshop we tried to share this aspect of our culture with the Thai media, in a fun and delicious way.

Hopefully, through a better understanding of the Israeli culture this will be another bridge for stronger Thai-Israeli relations.”

“ME AND THE MAGIC DOOR - Discovering Italian Architecture in Bangkok”, a documentary film, was recently released by The Embassy of Italy in Thailand, together with the Thai-Italian Chamber of Commerce and Max Image Co., Ltd., with the aim of promoting artistic and cultural cooperation among Italy and Thailand.

The documentary unfolds from the perspective of Fai, a Thai-Italian character who travels to Thailand to write an article about the Italian cultural heritage in Siam. The audience can follow Fai’s journey and her discovery of many iconic places such as Ananta Samakhom Throne Hall, inside Dusit Palace, Baan Norasing (Government House), Baan Phitsanulok and several other impressive buildings created by Italian architects and decorated by Italian artists, under the guidance of Thai personalities of the time, during the late 19th and early 20th Centuries.

H.E. Mr. Lorenzo Galanti, Italian Ambassador to Thailand explained, “After the reunification of Italy in 1861 the Kingdom of Siam established friendly relations with Italy. His Majesty King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) and King Vajiravudh (Rama VI) were profound connoisseurs and admirers of Italian art and culture. Therefore, several construction projects in Bangkok were assigned to a group of Italian experts, creating the conditions for a highly successful artistic cross-fertilisation.”

Directed by Marco Gatti, written by Francesca Andreini and starring Stefania Kim Gardini, Giulietta Consentino and Samuel Nai. Expat Life sat down with Madame Francesca, spouse of the Ambassador of Italy to Thailand to learn more about this inspirational story.

What inspired this film project?

Unlike other countries, where European architecture is present as a result of a history of colonialism, here in Thailand it was the result of an Italian immigration of high professional quality. Under King Mongkut (Rama IV) some Italian entrepreneurs had already opened flourishing constructions and import businesses in Bangkok, but the real blossoming of Italian architecture came under King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) and his son, King Vajiravudh (Rama VI). The two monarchs had great admiration for the culture and art of our country and encouraged the arrival of young professionals, as well as established figures, from Italy to work on the modernisation of Bangkok.

These Italian professionals were contracted to build palaces that were ambitious and innovative at the time. Their quality and aesthetic value are such that today these buildings are still perfectly preserved and several among them host Royal or governmental institutions. Italian engineers, architects and artists found in what was then called Siam a welcoming, friendly country that granted them an opportunity for professional and artistic expression. Many of them spent their entire professional lives in Siam, and some became relevant in the Kingdom’s cultural scene.

It was a very beautiful story, and the Italian Embassy decided to tell it, as a tribute to the extraordinary professional and artistic skills of our compatriots, as well as a testimony to the excellent and long-standing relations between Italy and Thailand.

With this documentary project, you received a lot of support from many organizations, who are the key ones that made it happen?

We are very grateful to the Thai institutions, which not only allowed us to shoot the documentary, but accompanied us through all stages of the filmmaking process. I would like to express my deep gratitude to the Royal Household Bureau, which graciously provided us with permission to show some Royal palaces, such as Anantha Samakon and Saranrom Palace. We are also very grateful to the Office of the Prime Minister for allowing us to film some beautiful scenes outside and in the main lobby of the Government House and Baan Pitsanulok, the official Prime Minister’s residence. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs followed us all the way through the preparation of the documentary, helping us to understand what bureaucratic processes we needed to follow.

The contribution of Chulalongkorn University, and in particular of Professor Neungredee Lohapon, who formed the scientific committee for the documentary, was also invaluable, as she verified through original documentation the accuracy of the data we provided. Professor Neungreudee, and the Arc of Memory research Unit, led by her, also made available the paintings we showed in the film. The Ministry of Culture kindly granted its patronage and provided a valuable final check on the contents of the documentary. Last but not least, I would like to mention the contribution of the Thai film Bureau, which supervised all the filming, allowing us to work in a peaceful and fully cooperative atmosphere.

What obstacles did your team encounter and how were they overcome?

The main obstacle was working during a pandemic.The various preventive measures obviously complicated our work and increased the costs. Due to Covid we had to give up filming at a location that was very important to us: Museum Siam. It was closed for a few days due to a case in their staff, and, being on a tight budget, we could not reschedule the filming on an extra work day.

The shooting was a race against time: we had an extremely tight schedule! The film is smooth, entertaining, it is not a classic documentary as it combines the educational part and a fictional story. It is particularly exciting and yet, it is extremely rich in information. I am sure that while the audience watches it, they cannot imagine that it was shot in only two weeks!

The other big obstacle was the heat. The shooting was almost entirely outdoors, and you can easily imagine how much effort it cost to be outdoors for a whole day (from sunrise until sunset). Last but not least, there was the problem of the actors’ makeup, which was flaking off because of the heat!

Different from writing a book, what lessons have you learnt in terms of experience with this adventure?

Writing fiction and writing screenplays are two completely different jobs. When you write a screenplay you can only use images, you cannot describe anything you cannot see on the screen, so you have to create images that can also reveal what is not said, such as people’s moods, or their past history. For a fiction writer like me, it can be a real challenge!

It was not the first time I had tackled this terrain though, because I had already written several screenplays many years ago. A screenplay that I co-wrote, Senza me, received state recognition of cultural interest in 2010!

I enjoyed reacquainting myself with an old passion of mine.

Any fun or heartwarming moments you recall during the filming?

There were countless hilarious episodes that made us laugh so much during the shooting. For example, when the actors could not remember their lines and made funny expressions. In general, I cherish the memory of the very special atmosphere on the set: we all were working under a lot of pressure but with extreme passion and the collaborations between us was total. There were countless problems to solve on the spot: the light not being the right one, a sudden rainfall, a location that was supposed to be free being suddenly occupied… but these difficulties made our collaboration even more intense!

A particularly funny situation was our shooting at Mandarin Oriental: there were guests in the rooms above the halls where we were shooting so we had to whisper the directions while we were working, and that created very funny moments. Imagine a typical set, where everybody shouts instructions, but having to work in a whisper or using mimics: what a comic scene!

The most intense moments were perhaps when we looked at each other, at the end of the day, tired, but with satisfied faces for the work we had done.

What message do you want the audience to take home after seeing the movie?

The first two screenings, organized by the Embassy, were very well received. Various institutions from both Thailand and Italy have asked us to screen Me and the Magic Door, and at the moment there are already nine events scheduled between August and September. I think the success is due to both the formal pleasantness of the film and the idea behind the project, which is to highlight how important cross-cultural exchange and collaboration are. In times like these, of conflict and serious tensions between countries, it is very nice to be able to get this message across to so many people.

As you will be leaving Thailand soon, any last words you would like to share to our readers and the Thai communities?

When my husband and I arrived in this beautiful country, four years ago, we noticed the mutual sympathy and respect that unite Italians and Thais. In making this documentary, I understood where these deep and ancient feelings came from. I am very happy and proud to be able to convey this “discovery” of mine to a wider audience. I therefore leave Thailand with the pride of being able to contribute in a very small way to this beautiful story of friendship, and hoping that it will bear many more wonderful fruits in the future.

As our interview drew to a close, Madame Francesca reminded that this documentary film is a non-profit cultural project to be screened for educational purposes and to stimulate cultural tourism. Whoever is interested can request permission to arrange the screening by contacting the Embassy of Italy in Thailand.

It is not inaccurate to say that I’ve always considered myself a lover of knowledge and have taken great enjoyment in adventures and new experiences in the hope of finding some wisdom and a greater meaning to life. So, it wasn’t a great surprise for me to take pleasure in a label that a treasured being bestowed upon me, declaring that I am a ‘researcher by nature’, which I took to heart, and even after many years, still feel proud of.

Therefore, when invited, I naturally agreed to an invitation to attend a Thai boxing event, a domain which was completely new and unfamiliar to me. I have to admit I’ve always considered this whole business of fighting very confusing and appalling; I never could comprehend why someone would want to deliberately hurt another, let alone put themselves in a position so exposed to be hurt badly as well. It was just beyond my comprehension. Sure, I’ve watched the movie ‘Fight Club’, and enjoyed it too, but only to the extent that the characters were unusual - a trait I found most appealing in humans - and the plot intriguing. So, I rushed at the opportunity to witness such a foreign experience, and I prepared myself to observe what all the commotion was about.

Muay Thai is very big in Thailand, and some people dedicate - or are obliged to dedicate - their lives to fighting, starting at an early age and making it a primary source of income and pride for themselves and their families. They see it as an art form, and the business of teaching it to foreigners has grown exponentially over the years, attracting interested candidates from all over the world to train and fight, or just to witness it as spectators. Now, I was about to partake as the latter, a leisurely activity on the island of Phuket, where thousands of the local Baht currency are spent to witness these events.

We arrived at the stadium on the night of the fights, and I was privileged to be led backstage by the boxing gym manager. This gym had two of their trainees fight, and the manager of the gym, my friend, was there to support his fighters. The fighters were getting ready; their coaches massaging them, speaking encouraging words into their half-focused faces, and dressing them with the appropriate gear. 

To my surprise, I saw one of them taking the liberty to pull down his fighter’s shorts, appearing to mess with his private parts. I couldn’t see what was happening so I curiously asked my companion to explain. He said that the fighters all wore a ‘cock-blocker’ made of steel, which was fastened to their bodies with a shoelace in the shape of a T-string. I noticed how tightly the string held on over the fighter’s underwear, between his buttcheeks, and mentioned that it looked like a very uncomfortable thing to have clutched to such a sensitive area of the body. The response came that “it was super uncomfortable, but much more comfortable than knowing that your genitals were exposed during the fight, not to mention the damage that would be sustained, lest the fighter actually received a blow.” I laughed in agreement, partly because I despised the idea of bodily pain and partly because of all the feedback from all the men I’ve met or seen on TV commenting on or reacting to how terrible the pain is when being punched in the testicles.

Then came the actual fights. ‘Great,’ I thought, ‘time for some research’. It started softly with two six-year-old kids. The strange music started playing, which I found fascinating, reminding me of my favourite celebration in Phuket, the Vegetarian Festival. The strangeness of this celebration is attractive and highly intriguing to me. As soon as I heard about it for the first time, I wanted to see what it was all about. I was told that it was like no other festival, and unlike the Buddhist water festivals, which were peaceful and fun, this Chinese festival was far from being anything like those. Apparently, people mutilated themselves in all sorts of violent ways, piercing their flesh, torturing themselves, and spilling blood. Ah, so it is not only in Islam that people shed blood as a means of religious resurrection: a familiar idea to me from the Middle East. Moreover, women didn’t take part in such festivities, “hitting Haidar” as they call it in Arabic, reenacting the martyrdom of their prophet Hussein, where participants would repeatedly slap their foreheads with blades and spill buckets of blood on the streets. I brought my thoughts back to the boxing ring and saw the two 6-year-olds moving in unexpected circles around the ring, touching the ropes, doing some sort of dance before the actual fight. The questions in my head were multiplying by the second and I curiously started asking about the meaning of what they were doing, and I was told that it was part of the opening traditions: they were dancing to show respect to their teacher, and to create protection for themselves and the other fighter. 

The fight didn’t last long; the kids punched, the crowds cheered, the bells rang, and finally the parents came to congratulate the children and take endless photos on their smartphones with them, bragging and boasting about the children’s victory to the audiences. Next, it was a couple of girl fighters. “Interesting”, I thought. Being a woman myself, I wanted to study their faces and try to understand why they would want to engage in such masculine activities. Their fighting seemed different than the children’s and it looked like they were dancing together for a while. 

I was struck by the smile that one of them had on her face the whole time even while she was the one receiving most of the blows. The other girl had such an aggressive expression on her face, that I couldn’t help but blurt out “I never want to come across that person on the street” to my friend. My friend agreed with a, ‘she’s pretty tough, isn’t she?’ She finished her opponent with a ruthless blow, and I was brought back by my memories to a time when I was a teenager, playing ‘Mortal Combat’ on my desktop at home. ‘Finish him,’ the voice ordered, as I pressed a few buttons on my keyboard, sending a last kick to my digital opponent, and thereby concluding the round. A brief hit of inner satisfaction would come over me, slightly intensified when it was followed by a recorded “Flawless victory” playing through my speakers, as the female character I always chose to play raised her fists in triumph. “Maybe I do actually understand some of this fighting art after all?” I silently investigated my thoughts. But there wasn’t any time for contemplation just yet, for the energy in the boxing stadium was hectic, the noises amplified, and the events were happening at turbo speed.

A few fights followed and I got to learn more about the art of Muay Thai; how the fighters prepare for the fights, their diets and weight control, their methods of training, their postures, etc. Soon, it was time for one of the trainees from my friend’s gym to fight. I was left there to sit alone, as he headed towards the ring, joining the trainers, in case anyone needed his support. I didn’t get to watch much and in an instant, the bell had rung and the fight concluded. I saw everyone moving backstage and I rushed to join them. It had all happened so quickly that I still hadn’t understood what had taken place, and as I approached, my friend informed me that the fighter had been knocked down by his opponent, concluding the fight. But the sweaty fighter was moving around, ignoring people as they asked him to take a moment to relax after his fight, to which he replied that he thought he had spotted his father. No one believed him (his father had not said he would be in the country) and thought that stars and chirping birds were still circling around his head from the blow, that he was only hallucinating. But, to everyone’s surprise, the father actually appeared, having travelled thousands of kilometres, to come and witness the fight that his son had so proudly wanted to take part of, which to his ill-fortune, had only lasted a few minutes. I witnessed all these events and thought to myself how everything was so raw, so real that it left no space for pretence. What I mean to say is that these fights actually show how refined one’s skills are, how intense the training and how high or warranted their confidence. There was no hiding, no faking of strength through bragging; everything was so obvious and clear during the actual fight.

We rushed back to the front of the house to watch the other trainee’s fight. I was informed that it was this guy’s first fight ever, and that at the last minute, the promoters had matched him with someone more experienced than him. There was worry that this new fighter would be outmatched, and that he might be beaten up by his opponent. The fight started and this guy, as new to all this as he was, showed real courage and heart, and fought mercilessly. The other fighter was surprised, and quickly showed courage himself, in trying to bring him down and win the fight. The blows kept coming from both sides, but the resistance from both sides was so strong that neither of them was able to make much progress over the other. They were both being hurt badly, but they were both inflicting much pain on the other too. It was getting more intense. The crowd started cheering: the ones on the left were supporting the red fighter, and the ones on the right were supporting the blue. Soon, the crowd became more excited, the bangs on the metal seats were getting louder and louder. The people were out of their seats, shouting, screaming, the music was barely audible, and the fighters were getting more bruised, more sweaty, more tired by the second. Soon, it was pandemonium, and everything got so immersed in the action, so mingled all together, like buckets of paint of different colours being poured into one giant container. I sat there, not believing what I was witnessing: how could all these people be so worked up over this performance, so taken with the energy of the fighters that it seemed that everyone was taking it so personally. It was as if the audience had a large stake in the outcome - in fact they probably did, an idea still foreign to me at the time -  that could directly influence them on the personal level.

And then it hit me: weren’t these spectators behaving in the same way that audiences did during the ancient Roman empire, when gladiators were put in the middle of colossal stadiums to fight criminals, fierce animals, or other gladiators? How much had humanity actually progressed over the last 2000 years? And weren’t the people in this particular stadium being aroused by watching aggression, violence and bloodshed? I couldn’t understand all this, and yet again I thought of the vegetarian festival that takes place in Phuket every October, the violence displayed there and the bloodshed and self-mutilation. All in the name of shifting ill-luck and evil from other worshipers unto themselves, so as to bring good luck to the whole community. 

I had stood there, mesmerised by the performances during the vegetarian festival myself, taking in the rituals and festivities, soaking in the strangest music, interested, strangely horrified and bewildered, trying to make sense of it all. I began to question myself: “What was so appealing to me about that ceremony?” and the answer came: “It is my own outlet for aggressive expression through watching others perform it, for the pleasure of my visual and auditory senses.” It’s what Carl Jung referred to as the personality’s shadow; that one has a dark as well as a good side, like the 2 colours of yin and yang, intermingling together, to form one whole entity. “Ah, so you’re not so different from those participating in these types of events after all!” I replied to myself. And then the whole business of martial arts began to make sense to me. An epiphany, like an unwanted lightning bolt crashing into my consciousness. A loud revelation that reverberated in the echoic halls of my mind.