Down in the drenches

I didn't sleep last night. Not one of those "I dozed off a bit" or "I only got X hours" where X represents the smallest number which will impress without being the number that no one believes. No sleep at all. Not even close. So right now, things are a bit hazy. I'm losing words, memories and sharpness in the vision of my right eye. I was never coordinated so I don't know if I'm losing that as well. So don't expect much -- even less than usual.

Today was "south" day so I walked out of the apartment following my folded paper map towards King George street. He gets lots of streets named after him and what do i get? Nothing. I knew I should have demanded those taxes on tea.

While I was walking and trying not to get too wet in the rain (more later, rain and info) I spotted a museum of the Irgun, one of the branches of the pre-Israel defense forces. I was looking for a way to kill time so I went in. I figured I would float through amidst the throngs, learning a little, staying dry and mostly awake. Not so fast, fate said. I was, it seemed, the only one in there so after giving me the prefatory explanation, I think that the staff watched me and made sure I looked at everything in detail. There was a quiz also, I think. The first stop was the upstairs, celebrating the life and times of Ze'ev Jabotinsky. On the main floor, the struggle for Israel's existence and its defense forces in the years 1936 to 1946 are covered or something like that. I made eye contact with the doyen and asked a question. I was the only there so he decided to give me the entire tour and speech, one on one. I like discussions of geopolitics as much as the next guy but I really didn't need a private tutoring session on the precise number of English forces killed in Mandated Palestine (381, whether by accident or not). He was very sincere and very thorough and I couldn't see straight. I showed him what appeared to be a typo in some of their materials and instead of saying "yeah, that could be a typo" he defended it. There might have been some allegory going on but I couldn't quite get it.

The lower floor was about Israel in 1946-48. Fascinating -- every attack by the Irgun is described in detail and they have a picture of Menachem Begin with a beard. Cool. I went back upstairs and asked the guy what I thought was a quick question. He proceeded to answer me by explaining the issues which divided the revisionist Zionists from other groups. It wasn't what I asked, but he felt good so there's that. Eventually I snuck out -- he might still be taking; I don't know. On the way in, when I bought my ticket, I splurged and paid an extra $1.50 for the ability to go to any of 5 other museums for the next month, for free. But knowing how way leads to way, I doubt I shall ever do that. Back outside, and then take a left on King George towards the open air market.

I was getting more and more tired, so my handwriting was deteriorating, but that just makes this all more of a challenge, yes? Yes.

Remember when I said it rained yesterday? Apparently Mother Nature reads my blog and was offended. "No!" she said. "That wasn't rain...THIS is rain." And it rained. But every time I even thought to myself, "Wow, this is some rain" she jumped in with "NO! Not yet. THIS is rain." It was the "but wait, there's more" of precipitation. I had no umbrella but damned if I would run or stop my walkies. I sauntered because that was my plan. Sadly, though, I couldn't take pictures as I failed to carry an underwater camera, so all the neat things that I saw, which were, admittedly, mostly based in the fact that it was raining, remained unphotoed. It rained for the entire of my walk, stopping only when I entered a restaurant, as at that point, Mother Nture had nothing else to prove and didn't need to make anyone else suffer. Though Tel Aviv is a "big city" there just aren't that many people around. I felt like I was the only one walking on city streets. I think I was, because everyone else was smart enough to go inside.

I practiced the art of embracing the rain and aimed myself at the shuk and open market. The shuk was an alleyway with stalls on either side, covered by a set of distantly related sheets of corrugated failure. The rain was deafening as it smacked into the roofing, and yet still found a way to reach the ground, unabated. Miracles! I had nothing I wanted to buy and, to be honest, the shuk reminded me more of a post-apocalyptic flea market than any sort of organized market place. I moved through and past neighborhoods that bring new meaning to the word "dilapidated" and it isn't a good new meaning. I tried to check my paper map any time I crouched beneath a half awning but it was quickly as waterlogged as the city it represented. Still, I didn't speed up my walk. I aimed myself to where, in my mind's eye, the map told me to go and I strolled. Once you are wet, you are wet, so why not just enjoy it. 55 or so degrees isn't horrible when you are walking many miles. I continued to walk, looking into store fronts, stopping to look at the architecture or appreciate the subtleties of life in Tel Aviv. Screw you Mother Nature, I'm walking here! Vacation means never having to say you're rushing, so I didn't rush.

I finally started seeing streets I recognized from yesterday's jaunts about town so I started thinking about lunch. As was the case yesterday) was not especially hungry, and constant walking did not sharpen my appetite -- it dulled it. So since I was not starving, I felt that I did not need to compromise. I envisioned exactly what I wanted and waited until I found it. I was looking for a mid-priced burger and fries. Crazy, right? I passed a kosher pizza place, 2 falafel/grill/schwarma joints, a vegetarian place and a really expensive steak restaurant, but not what I wanted. I did spot a pub which looked promising, but the promise involved being closed. Another meat place looked open -- lights on, people working inside. But when I asked for a menu the woman told me that they, too, were closed. It think it might be me.

I did see, while walking, the places that I had encountered with Maddie -- the Moses House, the Max Brenner chocolate store, the...um. No, that's it. We didn't stay long last time. Still, though, memories, right?

I thought about trying to go to the art museum again as my various devices indicted that it was no longer a Sundays, but I feared that it was my attempt at culture which had placed me on Mother Nature's radar and naughty list in the first place so I chose discretion, and walked away. Eventually, I ended up right across from my lodging, still with no food. So I walked into the next schwarma grill place (Gabay). But I also ordered a Kubba. God bless the guy who invented Kubbas and so there fate -- I got what I wanted. After a lunch, I walked across the street to the French butcher which advertised Parve cakes. I figured that I could ask if any were sans nuts, because sans is a French word, so we'd be all best buds, right? I didn't see any cakes. The baked good included only small backs of hard vanilla wafers. The guy behind the counter called the chef to make sure that nuts weren't among the 5 ingredients (flour, water, vanilla, baking powder and a little sugar). I haven't had a dessert yet on this vacation so I bought them. They are certainly edible. I then went back to the room to peel off the soaked layers of me and take a nap.