Wall, E-world

 Another night's wake -- I dozed from 11 to 1AM and then that was prett much it. I started another book, and watched sports highlight videos and movie bloopers. I listened as the world woke up and I eventually decided it was time to stop pretending to be asleep and just pretend to wake up. That was 7:30 local time. I chatted with Nomi and David for a while and then went to shower but accidentally fell back into bed and actually slept! For 2.5 hours! I woke up again, got out of bed, again, dragged a comb across my head, again. At some point I showered and got humaned. Then it was out to share my humanness with the masses, washed and unwashed.

As is my wont, I headed down to Ben Yehuda. With all the world my ktchen I prepped myself for some combination of breakfast, a 10AM meal and lunch. It was going to be huge! But as is my wont, I got a cup of fresh pomegranate juice and felt very happy with that. I made it to the confluence of Ben Yehuda and Yaffo and sat in the sun, listening to a heavily bearded man play electric guitar to a backing track (like the regular song but somehow washed of the lead guitar track). He was playing for coins but he was really good.When I showed up, he was working through a long version of Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. Then some Elvis. Next, he cued his electronic sound system up to the lead in to the guitar solo of Hotel California and played that. Polite applause all around.

There is an equal amount of English and Hebrew in the area because this is tourist central. There is also Spanish, Chinese, Russian, Italian and a bunch of languages I'm not expert enough to identify. I still had nothing that I needed to buy so I walked past the jewelry, the books, the home goods and the cell phones and did nothing in particular other than enjoy the sunshine, the music and the juice. Onwards towards the Yaffo Gate. Past a trumpet playing guy playing Halleluyah (you know the one -- from Shrek) and then another guitarist, this one bald and with tatoos, playing Money for Nothing. I gave him no money because somehow I though that that was the underlying message. Jerusalem is a musical city, Public pianos and music blaring from inside each store. Next up was a chasid strolling by the gate singing a capella. I kept moving. I passed through the gate and into the Old City. It has its own musicbut it never gets old.

I walked through the winding but familiar paths to the kotel. I watched the complex mix of religious students, young and old, unaffiliated Israelis coming to reconnect even if just for a moment, tourists of all stripes, some pilgrims, some merely curious. For the religious folks, some were visiting from abroad and some were locals, for whom the kotel is less a thing to stare at and more a place to exist most fully. I don't know where and how I fit in to all of it. Some people ignored me, some spoke to me in Hebrew and some sussed me out as a tourist quickly and spoke in English (the Armenian store owner who tried to get me to follow down an alley to his shop, and a Yiddish speaking chasid with his 5 children). Groups of students (Israeli) of various levels of religiousity were shepherded towards the wall. Is the wall to them like the Statue of Liberty? An interesting and singular experience? Or is the visit designed to spark more visits and more time? Should I be heartened that they have access to the holiest site we have or disheartened that they go there because of a scheduled class trip?

To get to the wall, one must pass a number of beggars -- some hawking red threads, some offering blessings or playing music and some just sitting, shaking a cup and hoping for donations. Do I help one? All? None? It all makes me sad. Here I am, a spoiled tourist walking to a remaining retaining wall from a destroyed culture, being asked for spare change by a clarinetist. Something about all of this seems wrong. I stood at the wall for a while, hoping for some mystical or even supernatural and ecstatic epiphany. Though that didn't happen, I do feel that I recharged my spiritual batteries, so that's nice. As I sat and contemplated, I was approached by a man whom I did not recognize. He introduced himself as Eric Cohen and said that I was his 11th grade English teacher some 25 years ago. He told me a story of how I threw him out of class and how that led to a particular nickname (Anshi). He did say nice things also, and has gone into education, so I couldn't have screwed him up too much. I hope.

I watched as non-religious boys (wearing the white, plasticky kippot) walk backwards away from the wall. Though they know very little, the still understand, somehow and maybe innately, how to act respectfully at the wall. I sat a little longer and then went inside the covered area in the corner of the wall and saw the revolving series of minyanim. I was quickly recruited for a mincha service which was made "real" by the presence of a small child being held and not held by his father, who cried and screamed "mama" the entire time and was planted directly next to and slightly behind my right ear. Then a quick last word with the wall and I started walking away. I shan't spend too much time on the family of 2 parents and 6 children (American tourists, religious) who acted very disrespectfully and inappropriately at the wall. Most uncool. On the way out I donated my pocket change to a couple of poor people (but not to the ange for a family of accordion lady or the clarinet guy). I saw the Greenfield family on their way IN (in 3 groups, strange for a family of 5) and running late for the tunnel tour. I stopped at Papa Di Pizza for a couple of slices (their motto is something like "money can't buy happiness but it can buy pizza and that's pretty much the same thing"). The pizza was servicible and the music playing was the 74 minute dance remix of Disco Inferno.

Outside the gate, the solo singer now had backing tracks to work with and he was singingAni Maamin and Ashrei to the music of "Heaven" by Bryan Adams. Karaoke gone wild, indeed. The guitarist was ripping through Sweet Child O Mine while young men were walkinig, wearing tefillin at 2 in the afternoon. Up Yaffo to shop for the two esentials that make Maddie's life happy: chewing gum and headbands. I had her on video so that I could be sure to buy the right thing. Saw a Weisbrot, some Bodoffs and (I think) a Hourizadeh. Mr. Candy for gum and Bandana on King George for head accoutrements. Fatherly duties thusly discharged, I headed back. I might read some, maybe grade a paper or two and/or head to Moshikos later for dinner. The possibilities are finite but seem endless.

Take a the train

 Andi showed up at 4:40 (earlier than expected) and we chatted for a bit, and with Heidi, all of us celebrating Andi's 15th birthday! YAY ANDI! Then she and I talked about our dinner and my egress options. We decided to eat sushi (and pay). We walked down to Herzl (no, the other one) then to something like Simnaski Street and then there was another turn or two and we found Simaki, the sushi place. We were offered menus in French but I de-mured. I guess I give off the French vibe but I don't know if that's good or bad. Andi got a bowl of noodles and stuff called the Hong Kong (interesting note, the fish place is actually a meat restaurant so you can have certain dishes wth chicken or beef if you don't want fish). I ordered the "Hot Combo" because, you know, me (and "Hot Mess" didn't test well). It was a roll of fried sushi (salmon, avocado, sweet potato and rice covered in black sesame seeds), a roll of fried sushi (same things but in tempura batter), sushi balls (a ball of rice, salmon, avocado and maybe somthing else in tempura but in a ball shape) and also sushi rice balls filled with rice and tuna salad (weird but true) and coated with something and fried. On the table, there were 2 bottles, both labeled "soy sauce" but one had a red top and the other, a green one. I played a little Chinese roulette and discovered that one was soy sauce and the other, teriyaki. I just couldn't remember through the meal which was which. Fun! There were also containers of "spicy mayo" which was neither spicy, nor mayo. Discuss.

We ate up and paid up and then walked back (taking the scenic route which allowed us to see a totally different set of shoe stores and fruit stands). Outside the stores the smells alternated between "freshly cleaned bathroom," "cigarette," and "hobo with a stomach ache." All very exotic. The people strolled along oblivious to the fact that they were strolling along and some of us wanted to get somewhere else. We saw little dogs and children, some of them on leashes. I'll leave it to you to decide which. Imagination time!

I chatted with Andi about living in Israel (she generally likes it) and about how it has made her very independent and mature but is also difficult because she struggles with the language. She is able to navigate the pubic transportation (she is self-effacing and credits her moovit app, but she has some real street smarts on her own). We made it back to the apartment with enough time for us to take a bus together. Andi debussed (she was well composed at the time) at a stop near the mall so she could hop the bus to Kfra Saba and Josie and I stayed on until the train station. I had my passport ready so the security guy could see that I am the guy in the passport, and then he asked me if I had anything dangerous on me. I didn't say anything about the pen being mightier. I'm not picking fights with nice young Russian-Israeli security guys. Eventually we got through to the right track and boarded the southbound train. There, we chatted about her education and her experiences and like that. She is also a fantastic kid so the evening was pleasant.  I detrained at Sividor Merkaz but I don't know what that means. It is somewhere near north Tel Aviv so have at it, party people.

I waited for the 771 (on the same track -- this is why I got off there, so that I wouldn't have to track down another track). I could already sense a difference from Netanya. Some of the announcements were in English and I heard more English being spoken on the platform by the passengers. I know I shouldn't celebrate this, but it really is comforting. Except that the main guy speaking English just WOULD NOT STOP.

I got ready to relax on the train but was asked to join a maariv minyan. It had to be timed for right after the doors closed at a particular station so the guy who was throwing it together had everyone wait until he confirmed 10 and the train was in the right place. A soldier (who really looked 16 years old) led the prayers and there was a wonderful mix of people -- tourists, chareidim, locals, all trying to pray and not fall all over each other when the train sped up or went around a curve. By the time I got back to my seat we were almost in Jerusalem so I gathered my stuff and moved towards the door. Knowing I had my big bag, I decided to try something new and take the elevator. The first was fairly small, the second (which was not right next to where the first left us off) was larger, and there were 3 of them. There was a third but I had gotten so annoyed by then that I toughed it out up the escalator. Then it was simply a matter of pretending I knew where I was going. I loaded a map up and pretended to be doing something other on my phone than being helpless. Never show fear. They can smell fear. And feet. They can smell feet also. While, yes, I had to figure things out, I felt much more comfortable because I generally knew where I was. That's an unusual feeling for me.

I made my way in the world today with everything I had and found Nomi and David's and am settling in. Good night moon, good night brush, good night Saigon.

Butcher and Sundancer, together again

 Just a short note to catch everyone up:

I took the afternoon to do a lot of nothing (or a little of something -- same coin, all sides). I read, I napped, I chatted with Talia and Julie. I watched some "Good Girls" with Josie. It was, as they say, a chill afternoon.

Brian drive in from Tel Aviv so Josie stepped up and called a restaurant called 3 Butchers and made a reservation. Could I have done it in my beyond broken Hebrew? Maybe. But she did it and sounded all authentic and not even a little bit pathetic. She's my hero. He parked outside and we walked and talked. The conversation was about Israel, kids, politics, friends, kids, growing older, schools, kids and then, for a change of pace, football and then kids. We settled in at the restaurant and reviewed the menu. Netanya is not Jerusalem or Tel Aviv. They offered no English menu. That didn't faze Brian and I refused to let it bother me. My Hebrew might be rudimentary but my English is good so I could ask Brian to explain things to me. His Hebrew is fine and my exploiting available resources is legendary.

I started us off with chicken wings in a SWEET chili sauce, emphasis on the sauce. They were good. We also got all the customary salads. There was chummus, and baba ganoush, and beets and purple cole slaw and olives and carrots and some red stuff and some orange stuff and some other eggplant stuff and about 13 other "salads" for us to fill up on before we dove into the wings. Then we each got a steak (measured in grams, like a drug, which is not that far off) and he got a seltzer and I got a Heinekin. My steak was good but (truth be told and I'm telling) not great. It was a bit fatty and lacked flavor. Like me, but more or less. It was of sizable nature but nothing off the charts, assuming you have a large enough chart. It needed salt and flavor. The garlic and other stuff served along with it didn't add much, but the sizzling platter was a nice touch. Brian got an Americano coffee and I avoided dessert for the allergy's sake. We walked back.

That's pretty much it for the evening. Now I shall wind down, read a bit and (I hope) get a reasonable night's sleep. Tomorrow AM includes such hits as "grade papers" and "walk somewhere to grade papers" and then "eat something ill-advised. Then a birthday dinner with Andi!

Today I am a mean

 Monday morning and I awoke to the sound of not very much. I attended to my morning toilet as all the classic literary characters did and prepared to galavant. It might be a little less formal and it might be a get-together-vant but whatever, I shall vant, I say. Vant. This morning's plan included a walk to the shuk and then grading papers somewhere. Exotic and deserving of much conversation, no doubt. I wandered lonely as a clod in the same direction as yesterday but I turned down Milchemet Sheshet Hayamim and over towards the central market (the shuk). I took a left on Zangwill because it isn't called Zangwon't, so I thought I had to.

Nine 45 in the AM and the place was still working on waking up so I walked quietly. It wasn't glamorous or loud or even "nice." In fact I'm not sure if certain places were part of the shuk, and independent flea market, someone's garbage being picked through by dogs, or a homeless camp. was the water on the ground from a sound washing or a sleeping hobo? Who knows? This is the mystery of life. I had no interest in buying a kilo of chicken, lightbulbs (single use, no doubt) or  a hot water pot and am currently fixed for 1970's era broken telephones so I backed away slowly. The produce there (and there was a lot of produce there) looked beautiful, even and especially the items I could not name nor did I recognize. I headed back on Zangwill to Barth and back towards the mall.

As I neared the mall, I took off my bag, ready to surrender it to the elderly gentleman so he could make no show of checking it while he waved me through. This time, though, there was another senior citizen standing at the other side of the metal detector. As expected, I buzzed so I though he would take out o wand and give me a more thorough going over/. I lifted my arms so he could but instead he looked at me and said something smarmy about my assuming that position. I assume it was smarmy but he made the classic error of speaking to me in Hebrew. I stared at him blankly while he repeated himself and then I said "I got nothing." I meant both that I was carrying nothing problematic and that I had no answer to whatever he said. I let the proper amount of disdain creep in, took my bag from the sitting guy and walked away leaving the annoying-genarian staring in more confusion than he expected. Nerts to him and points to me. Off to Aroma.

I used the machine standing outside of the store to order myself a cup of tea and went inside to wait for my name to be called. I also hovered, hoping to find a seat. There were ample seats in the smoking area but that wasn't the aroma I was going for and I specifically ordered my tea without the emphysema. Israelis smoke less than I remember but they are still pretty hardcore about it. One woman (I'm not making this up) was rolling her own cigarette at her table. I hope she knows that they DO sell them prerolled. I cose not to tell her as she was engrossed in her work. Eventually a woman shifted in her seat and I took that as a hint that she was done, so I dumped her into the garbage and sat down. My name was called (though confusion ensued when it turned out that another guy sharing my name also ordered tea...what are the odds? If you answered 1:1 then you are right) and I chose Earl Grey because I always choose Early Grey.

I sat and grey-ded papers. See what I did there? HA! 

It isn't that I particularly like malls but I find that if I don't want to buy anything then it is easier to have everything I don't want in one place. Also, it is all inside so even though the weather is approaching nice, inside is known for the lack of wind, sun and bugs. Today, I knew with certainty exactly what I didn't want to buy so I was able to move through the mall with purpose, being more efficient in my non-purchases. A guy tried to get me to buy something at a phone kiosk but I looked him solidly in the eye and said "I'm good" and he, taken aback, abacked away. Stupid American tourist FTW!

Once it was 11AM somewhere I headed to the lower floor to get me some lunch. Sure, the quaint random places on the street are more interesting but this chain is called Burger-Ranch so how could that be bad? I went over to the automated machine and knew enough Hebrew to choose the buttons marked "induce heart attack here." I like these machines because they have pictures and don't require that you pretend to try and speak Hebrew while the under-employed teenagers behind the counter giggle. I got to the end and indicated how I wanted to pay. The machine told me to take my reciept. I heard a print head moving, but no receipt showed up. Strange. I sat down and waited. The lack of movement concerned me. Some places have screens that allow you to see the status of your order by tracking the nuber on your receipt.

I didn't get a receipt so I was sort of stuck. I was reluctant to order a second time because either it wouldn't work again and I would feel doubly foolish, or both orders would go through and I'd be on the hook for 2 lunches. Not that I mind that, but some people don't know me and might think that eating a double lunch is somhow "gross. The fools. I also didn't want to go up and strike up a complex conversation about how the machine, which has as its central purpose the ability to avoid striking up complex conversations wasn't working. This was a bind, so I sat a-wishing and a a-hoping. Eventually my hunger got the better of me so I went to the OTHER automated machine and put in my order again. I sneaking didn't change my name so maybe if both orders came through, that other guy from Aroma would up one. Again, the sound of printing. Again, no receipt. THis time I marched up to the counter and looked incredibly helpless. I could hear teenager eyes being rolled like so many Hebrew R's and when I explained my predicament to the young women behind the counter, she checked her computer and knew exactly what I had ordered. This leads me to wonder, if my order was in the system, why did it take my prompting for her to check and begin preparing it? Isn't that exactly what the computer is supposed to do so I don't have to? I chose not to ask. But to recap, I mouthed off to the security guard, shook my head "no" when asked for a cigarette by a passing stranger, didn't buy anything from the phone guy and successfully asked for help at the food court. For me these are signs of incredibly maturity and emotional growth so, yay vacation! Yes, I'd rather avoid human interactions but if I have to do it, I feel confident enough that I can do it poorly and with limited effect.

After I ate my angus burger and onion rings (actually, pretty darned good for a near-fast food experience) I vacated my table so that the old woman and her family had a place to sit. I'm cool like that. I decided to wander back by way of a park. The picture on google made it look like it had tree lined paths and miles (in kilometers, that's "kilometers") of greenery. I used my phone maps and found my way to the playground/dog run/mini park. It had some interesting kids rides -- some you pedaled, some pushed and other forms of activity. That got me thinking -- I know that in Sesame Place, there are cycles connected to generators that show you how your effort can light up a lightbulb. Well, why aren't all the kids playthings connected to a storage battery so their unending energy can be stored? I'm sure that any one kid's playtime won't amount to much, but imaging hundreds and thousands of kids playing for hours each day. That has to add up. The energy can be stored or put into the grid or whatever people do with energy these days. Just an idea. I had a picture but it got lost in the interwebz.

I moved through and followed the map back up to Harav Reines (but well beyond the apartment). I found a few restaurants and stores and chatted with Talia via technology before I made it back to #18. Now to plan the afternoon. Later, taters.

Evening activity

 A quick summary of the afternoon and evening so that those of you hanging on my every move will be placated. I assume very few people really care about what I'm doing, but I write this stuff down so if someone says, "so, nu, what did you do when you were on vacation?" I can say "Learn to read, jerk." I won't, but I can.

I returned to the Ira place and realized it was so nice outside that I wanted to try the roof out in the sun. Glorious. I took many pictures and then came back downstairs. And decided that I wanted to go back to the roof and lie down in the sun. So I did. I didn't really nap much because it was already starting to get a bit breezy but I enjoyed the feeling of absolute relaxation -- no where to go, nothing to do. I like it. Eventually I came back down and sat on a chair and tried to doze there. I was equally unsuccessful, yet still very relaxed so I'm counting that as a win and you can't stop me.

Josie confabbed with her mom and we all decided that the best place to go to dinner was a dairy place right by the entrance to the beach (where I had walked earlier), so we waited until it was an appropriate time and worked our way down there. A lovely walk with a lovely young lady. She is my favorite Josie as far as I remember. If someone reminds me that I know a better Josie then that could change but I'm old, and remembering details like that smacks of effort so I'll pass. We went to Jony Forno. That's what it is called. They had personal pizzas (but no business pizzas...strange), pasta dishes and other things that combined tomato sauce, starch and cheese. I ordered rice balls with a cream sauce and we shared them. Yum. Then each of us ordered a margharita pizza -- mine with mushrooms and hers with kalamata olives (gross) and jalapeno peppers (ow). She got a seltzer and I got a diet Sprite and then a glass of Chenin Blanc. We both put red pepper flakes on our respective pizzas so if you had money on that, you win. We came, we saw, we ate. Along the way, we chatted about life and family and pizza. It was excceding pleasant, our waiter was nice, the ambience was great. I recommend the restaurant; it has a good beat and you can dance to it. The prices were reasonable as well.

For dessert, we went to Tony, an ice cream place. I shy away from desserts in Israel because of my nut allergies. Anything with chocolate probably has nuts and they aren't especially careful about cross contamination, so I eat double main courses and skip the sugar. But this time we spoke with the employees abouhey gave us an honest accounting of the flavors with nuts (the coffee ice cream had nuts...who knew? They did. Ha!). I opted for the Cream Caramel in a cone because I find alliteration delicious. There had been a freezer problem earlier so it played out almost like soft serve and tasted great. Josie got some fruity sherbert thing. I didn't approve but she was not intimidated. She had already ordered seltzer and kalamata olives so clearly she was going to get whatever she wanted, regardless of the gross factor.  Josie also struck a conversation with a new Olah who was working in the store (she is from Canada) so that was nice. We walked and ate and made it back to the apartment in record time (the fastest time the two of us returned after eating ice cream in the winter on a Sunday night).

Tomorrow, I may wade through the local shuk and see what else I don't need, then swing by the mall and have coffee at Aroma instead of Roladin, grade papers and then come back to go out to a meal with Brian! Jam packed, my days are.

Beach Bumming Bingo

 

Let's talk for a bit about McDonald's. I know it isn't "good" but a vast majority of metrics, but I also know I don't like the metric system so I shan't be slave to its judgmental whims. I totally get the predictability of comfort food. Order bland, get bland. Just like mom used to tell us not to eat. And kosher, by the way. A mall in Netanya and there I was eating a double McChicken sandwhich made of highly process near-chicken type food on a roll with lettuce and some sort of sauce. How can that be bad? Well, they find a way, but it was interesting at least. And at most.

I got the aforementioned double mcchicken sammich with fries and a side of onion rings. Shades of brown punctuated by a darker brown diet Coke. I felt so rustic. I ordered on a machine, was informed via machine that my food was ready and ate like a machine. Yes, I had to walk a half mile to find someplace to wash (a problem that didn't seem to plague the other religious people there, but I don't judge except when I do), but when I returned, my food was magically still boring. It was mostly tasteless, lukewarm and full of fat, just like me! I really did enjoy it because ot was like the forbidden fruit but without the concern that I was actually wasting calories on fruit.

I had to connect to a separate wifi network (the system repeatedly disconnected me with no explanation so that was annoying) but the idea that I was cruising the internet on a network called McDonalds made me happy. Eventually, I shall go off wifi and use my travel pass but math wise, I have to limit that to 3 24-hour periods so I will be careful to stay in airplane mode when I can.

I was on my way to leave the mall when I reallized that along with the entry level and the upstairs, there was also a downstairs! I had no idea. There was a store I had no interest in but also a full supermarket and a coffee place, a burger place, a pizza place and a falafel place. That's a lot of places all hiding from me. Amazing! I left as I had just super-sized my belly and needed to walk more than I needed to sit and eat more. I headed down Herzel and eventually, it turned into a pedestrian walkway (well, maybe it was a little nicer than pedestrian, but still, just medium) filled with stores selling stuff I didn't need. Refreshing! there was also a surplus of construction and destruction all around with the city being both torn down and built up simultaneously. Thanks Lior Suchard! There was a large square designed for pigeons and tourists and I found myself to be both. Next, the million stair staircase down to the beach. I walked down, still accoutered in my winter coat for a proper January day on the beach. From the water's edge, I watched a bunch of people surf as the sun started pounding down, making the day passable! The sun was out, but the soldiers didn't wait re: their guns. Those are out regardless of weather. It warmed up and the streams turned into puddles which turned into steam. The circle of life continues amidst cigarette butts. A brisk wind both on and off the water helped me rationalize my heavy coat but I still felt silly as I watched ten year olds run into the water wearing shorts. Things were relatively quiet as it is out of season so only the hardcore bugs tortured me.

Back up the staircase and the return walk. I stopped off at a store to buy a gift for Ira and his apartment. I, it is in the pantry off the laundry room. You're welcome. I strolled back, paying attention to everything and remembering nothing. It was very relaxing. Then I went up to the roof of the apartment building and sat iin the sun for a little while. Quite nice. Next up, the rest of the day.

Mall-ning edition

 Yes, I woke up at 4AM local time but I decided that I could force myself to sleep a little more so I bit the bullet and closed my eyes. It worked. I slept. Next thing I know, it is 7 in the morning and it is pouring outside. An auspicious beginning. I turned the dood on (you have to give the hot water some lead time, especially when there was a blown breaker over Shabbat, so you have to find your way into the hall, to the breaker box and reset the one labeled "Dood"). Then time to daven and review the world while it slept. That done, I took a shower and got myself all ready for a day's adventure. I reviewed the map, spoke monosyllabically to my niece who was hard at work, and girded myself for the walk.

And then I, on my own and without a net, headed to the mall. Crazy, I know. I made it here in record time. Well, any time would have been a personal record because I have never been here before, but let's celebrate victories and stop being so difficult, shall we? I walked in past the elderly gentleman who was the security guard. I had trouble removing my bag for his inspection and he seemed a bit impatient. But I figured it out eventually and gave him my bag and then I walked through the metal detector. It beeped but he gave me my bag and told me to move along. It sounded poetic in Hebrew. Directly by that entrance is a Roladin -- a coffe place with food but I wasn't interested in food. So I got on line and prepared myself to order in hebrew. When it was my turn, I confidently said "black coffee please" in perfectly accented English. I lost my nerve and interest. Either way, I paid my 10 shkalim and gave my name. I settled in at a table with a perfect view of the security guard and waited the minute it took for them to pour my drink. They never called my name. Instead they announced "black coffee" but in Hebrew. This is fine except, who knows if anyone else ordered black coffee! Isn't that the whole point of giving a name? Regardless I wandered up to the counter and confidently looked helpless. The woman releated "black coffee" in hebrew and looked at me. I took the coffee. If anyone else is waiting still for a cup, sorry bub.

It wasn't the biggest cup I have ever had, but it had the grounds still in it like a cup of turkish, just sans sweet so I enjoyed it while I graded papers. There is an amazing consistency here -- every single person who came into the mall set off the metal detector and the guard let every single person in. What an amazing country! I worked my way through the coffee and papers, savoring one and dreading the other, but by 10:25, I was finished with both. This gave me some time to reflect -- here I am actually on vacation. I was done with my work for the day. I have no futher plan other than to go out to dinner in a bunch of hours. I can wander through the mall and do nothing. I can sit and do nothing. I can even walk and do nothing. I choose to do none of the above and just do nothing. Glorious and freeing. The thing is, I'm in Israel doing nothing. Everywhere I look, Israel. It feels nice. It would feel nicer if the temp was a bit higher but when the sun comes out, it feels almost 60 degrees (that's 4 stone and a rock in metric, I think) and pleasant. So I'm just soaking in my aimlessness as a strange man in a strange land, but one in which I feel comfortable feeling out of place. It's nice. Hard to describe, but nice.

I wandered through the mall. Israeli malls have certain similarities with American malls. There is nothing I want to buy in either one. The music is insipid (though in more languages). I walked past the children's clothing stores and the jewelry kiosk. past the toys and the hair removal place (which is right next to the hair restoration place). I watched the small children with their parents, the elderly with their adult children and the middle aged people with both. I heard Hebrew and Russian and the occasionaly English (which was when I said things like "black coffee please"). I passed the food carts -- sure they have a candy cart. Sure, there is a fruitjuice cart. But there is also an open air "dried fruits, nuts and spices" guy and, of course, a "roasted potato bar with 6 ovens and a display of potatoes so you can choose whichever one you want to get cooked. Does YOUR mall have a roasted potato bar? I think not. Score one for Netanya. The thing is, though, the mall is not especially large. One can get through the drug store (think CVS) and the homewares stores in no time flat. I don't need too much time to see that there are no headbands or intimates that I desperately need and I already have a phone, thankyouverymuch. It doesn't take long to confirm that one is not in need of anything in particular.

I spotted the McDonald's which is my lunch target and found that there were a bunch of tables nearby, so I sat there and started typing. A few minutes later and the same family (current student, father was the one I sat next to on the flight) as they headed to visit a seminary for their daughter. We exchanged pleasantries which was unnecessary for I have need of those either, but pro forma and all that. I shall surf the internet on the wifi labeled "McDonalds" until I decide to order something and then I shall reassess my afternoon.