My new postcards wall.

11 cards across, 13 cards tall, made of clear plastic, purchased at some art gallery in Berlin.

From the frying pan into the fire.

Now that the big fire on the Carmel mountain is out, here's a personal account of how firemen in Israel do their job. Some 20 years ago, when I was a soldier at an Air Force supply base, there was a fire brigade stationed at the base itself. Two huge fire engines, a 24-hour firemen watch, guys in skivvies playing backgammon at the front porch, the works. We also had a "shekkem" (Hebrew for "canteen") that served steaks and hamburgers to soldiers who didn't want to eat at the dining hall. One day the shekkem workers took a lunch break (leaving the fire in the stove burning), locked the place, and left for a while. Sure enough, the fire in the stove felt trapped, and tried to escape. Pretty soon the walls of the canteen were on fire. What do you do? Call the firemen of course. The guys started their engines, drove the 100 meters (!) to the shekkem, and ... realized they don't have any water in their tanks. A moment of confusion ensued, and then somebody smart called a civilian fire engine from the nearby town. However, when the guys in yellow arrived, there was nothing left for them to do. The shekkem had burnt down to the ground, surrounded by dozens of helpless soldiers who were afraid to tackle the burning inferno. Some heads rolled in the fire brigade, but that didn't bring back our canteen. Sounds familiar?