Halloween Kippa-style
While they don't celebrate Halloween here, Danny's kids decided that it would be a good idea to start this year (which I suspected might be just an excuse to eat a lot of candy). So we hosted their first Halloween party tonight (yes, a day late as we have them on Thursdays, not Wednesdays) with some of their friends (max. 3 friends each).
They celebrate Purim here, which is like Halloween, but in March or April, I believe? Anyways, they dress-up for this like Halloween but they don't go door-to-door getting candies, which the kids think is a bit of a rip-off since finding out about the North American tradition. And, they don't do pumpkins!
So, in preparation for the big event, off Danny went in search of pumpkins. About an hour later, he called home to inform me that they seem to only come in one size – and that is -- humongous (more than 20 kilos and over a metre in diameter). With one for each of the 8 kids, that would be a whole-lot-a pumpkin! So instead, he brought home twelve, very small, long-necked, round bottomed, creamy-coloured, squash. Now how does one go about carving one of these?
Like any great innovator bound for success, Danny realized a prototype was needed. With great care and focus, he set out to carve his very small, long-necked, round-bottomed, creamy-coloured baby into a real-life Jack-o-lantern. And, presto – he invented a new model! The streamlined, easily-transportable, material-efficient, all-natural but not organic, Jewish (the top is so small it looks like its wearing a little kippa) Jack-o-lantern. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yarmulke) Patent pending.
When the kids arrived, it quickly became apparent that they were more enamoured with the candy then our lovely would-be pumpkin. And, only 2 of the 8 came dressed up. Danny’s kids who spearheaded the whole event, actually showed-up without costumes! Hmmm, seems like my candy conspiracy theory was gaining some weight. Danny and I at least had the decency to put on wigs. Danny made a charming Pippy-Long-Stockings look-a-like with his up-turned red pigtails. I on the other hand donned the long pink curls, which I was told looked like Beethoven -- so much for my Marie Antoinette impersonation.
We eventually convinced the kids, that carving these little critters was a fun idea. So, outside we sat around our large patio table. The big kids (Oren and her eleven year-old friends) started first. Danny chopped off the tops (creating the kippas) and the kids worked hard to scoop out the centres (not easy going with these funny, long-necked specimens). Next the kids drew on the faces. Lacking liability waivers, Danny and I did the actually carving. And, while the kids were momentarily entertained, they soon ran off with their candy to play dungeons and dragons on their computer.
Round II was even more uneventful with the little ones (Itamar and the 7 year-olds) getting distracted before they even got their scoops down to the round-bottoms and some forgetting to actually draw a face.
So, there Danny and I sat, digging, scooping and carving, so that each of the 8 kids could go home with a very small, long-necked, round-bottomed, kippa-wearing, creamy-coloured, Jack-o-lantern. Personally, I thought it was quite fun and eventually, with some convincing, Danny agreed too.
Halloween in Israel…hmmm?
Without the door-to-door candy opportunities, I’m not convinced it’s going to fly.
Just a few old rocks...
From my new office in Jaffa port (more on this later!), I hear chanting. I look through the key-hole shaped opening to the blue-green water and see Arab men standing on the quay, arms at their sides, hands folded in front of them. They kneel down to kiss the ground, sit up, and bend down again. They repeat this ritual several times. It is the time of prayer. These religious men are the same ones who whistled and leered at me an hour earlier as I walked by. I guess religious devotion here doesn’t mean you have to check your sexuality at the door. And besides that, they can’t help it. They are construction workers. Yes, typical stereotype around the world.
They are here excavating an archaeological site. It is a pier, from the days of the Ottoman empire. Parts of the stonewall are still intact and you can see the worn stairs where ship-goers used to come and leave, and the thick metal ring that they tied their boats too. Apparently they will cover it up again in a couple of weeks. They are building a new promenade and are just here doing an inventory of the site. I want to come back with my camera and take pictures before it’s covered over again. Danny’s reaction is, “Why? This isn’t so old. You can see stuff like this and much older everywhere.” Well, not in Canada you can’t…
I am still wide-eyed, in awe, of the history here. Magical stories come-to-life that I read about as a child, myths and fairytales that as an adult, I couldn’t imagine could have a real home. And yet, here I am, working in ancient Jaffa by the sea, a place whose narrative dates back 4000 years. It is hard to wrap your head around, especially so early in the morning.
We came here to go kayaking at sunrise -- nothing short of a small miracle that I managed to get up at 5am to get here. Rony, the owner of the kayak shop guided us on our first mission on the Mediterranean. Danny and I have both kayaked before, but don’t have so much experience in bumpy water, so it felt a bit interesting.
As we paddled, Rony pointed out Andromeda’s rock, and told us the Greek myth of this beautiful young woman, tied to the rock during a terrible storm, to appease the Gods for her mother’s vanity. In the end, she was saved by some Perseus dude and I guess they lived happily ever after. He also reminded us that this was the place where Jonah got swallowed up by a whale. Not exactly a comforting thought when you are out to sea in a teensy little kayak – “crunch, crunch, hmmmm, this one’s got a little extra fibre to it.” Nothing to be too stressed about, and besides, Jonah did get spit back up again.
All in all, it was a great way to start the day. Well, the day really got started after we found some coffee in an eclectic café, in the nearby flea market. Then it was back to the kayak club where I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon working on my laptop. Rony, the owner, is happy to have me work there whenever I want so he can have someone in the office while he runs errands. As for me, I am happy for the view from this magical place and the proximity to really good humus. Good for him and good for me. The only thing I am really left wondering about is, “what did the Ottoman’s ever do without wireless?”
Other people's garbage
I have been back to Israel for a bout 2 weeks now. Overall it is good to be back and I am sort of surviving the heat. The heat is reminiscent of India. I remember standing completely motionless in the post office in Delhi waiting to mail some packages and sweat just running down my legs. It is “almost” India-post-office-hot here. So, needless to say I am trying to stay cool and spending a lot of time in the water.
Despite the heat wave, or because of it, we decided to go camping this weekend to the Kinneret, or “Sea of Galilee,” as most of us not from here might know it. “Kinneret”, means violin, so named back in the biblical days because of its shape. As for the “Sea of Galilee” I am not sure how it got this name, as it is actually a lake. Today, it remains a very revered body of water. Not necessarily because of its historical and religious claims to fame, but because it is the only fresh water lake in Israel. A sizable lake, measuring 13x7 miles, it is still not recommended to visit the second last weekend before the end of summer holidays, because all of Israel, their dogs and their saftas (grandmas) are out in full force, as we discovered.
And, the Arsims. I learned this new term this weekend. Arsims are equivalent to our red-necks -- the local yahoos who play loud music in the parking lot all day and in your campsite all night, the guys and gals who don’t bother to flush the toilet or to make sure they even aimed right in the first place, and the ones who leave their garbage and broken glass on the ground for the next camper to walk on.
Arsims aside, I have noticed a general lack of respect for one’s surroundings here. I know that I shouldn’t generalize, but Danny says the same, and that would make it true, right? We noticed the contrast coming back from our trip to N. America. Traveling through British Columbia, Washington, Oregon and even a little bit into Idaho, water, roadways, bathrooms and campgrounds, in general, seemed to be treated with greater care. Is it cultural? Regulations? Education?
At one of the dialogue events in the West Bank a while ago, some of the internationals, including myself, thought it would be a nice gesture to clean up the grounds of the centre where we were staying. We tried to enlist some of the locals in our project, but they couldn’t really understand why we would want to get down on our hands and knees and pick up other people’s candy bar wrappers and cigarette butts. The owner, Makram, didn’t really get it either. And, for that matter, neither did we. I suppose that if you are dealing with the conflict all the time, who has time to care about a few coke cans on the ground or how many plastic bottles are floating in the water? One thing is clear, environmental sustainability isn’t at the top of the agenda here.
So, in the meantime, after a night of no sleep, an absence of basic sanitation and limited respite from the 95-100 degree heat (dips in the water and our nylon tent didn’t cut it), we drove back in our SUV to our air-conditioned house, javex-scrubbed bathroom, and chlorinated pool.
Other people’s garbage? Hmm…
I guess I need to take a look at my own “inner Arsim.”
A better way forward...
With the Global Village Square postponed due to a three-day mourning period following the deaths of 19 innocent villagers in Gaza, we decided to have a small gathering in Jerusalem for those who still wanted to and could get-together. Nella, a wonderful Israeli woman and artist, whose husband was a victim of the conflict, offered her home. What we didn’t know was that the Israeli army had closed the borders completely given the threat of retaliation. Even Palestinians with permits were not allowed to cross. We were in the car on the way to Jerusalem when we got the call from Whit, an American, who with his wife Paula, had initiated and continued to support the development of these dialogue processes in the region between Palestinians, Israelis and Internationals. “Ibrahim was turned back. I can go and try to pick him up in a taxi.” "No, its OK, we’ll go and get him with the car," Danny said.
As we reached the checkpoint to enter the West Bank, Danny casually turned to me and said that there was a chance that we could be arrested for trying to bring Ibrahim across when the borders were closed. "Now you tell me." I didn’t even have any ID with me. I started to imagine what might happen if I got stuck in an Israeli jail with no identification. I felt upset that Danny had not shared all the facts with me upfront. "I’m sorry. I didn’t think of it until now", he said. "Do you want me to drive you back and then I’ll go pick up Ibrahim myself?" "No", I said. "We are already here now. "
We walked into the Everest Hotel in Beit Jala where we had met the week before for the dialogue training and where we were meant to have the Global Village Square to put what we had learned into practice. I saw Anouar, Makram's brother and Ibrahim. We hugged and my tension eased a bit. We started to joke and laugh and my mood lightened a little more.
As we got into the car, I offered Ibrahim the passenger seat. “No, its better if you sit up front," he laughed. They don’t like to see dark faces in the car.”
Three guards stood at the checkpoint as we approached. They were young soldiers, eighteen or nineteen years old, two women and one man. They were laughing and seemed to be joking amongst themselves. I felt a bit more positive about our chances of getting through. I turned towards the women on my side of the car with a big Canadian smile. They looked and then walked away to continue their conversation. The young man approached Danny on the driver’s side and asked a few questions. Danny flashed his former army identification. The soldier said something to Danny and then waved us on. We let out a sigh of relief and started to laugh. We had successfully smuggled Ibrahim across the border. We asked Danny what the soldier had said to him. “Nice rank,” he said. "I guess he didn't realize that my card and status are no longer valid."
Once we were across the border, I started to forget my own fears and to realize what this really meant for Ibrahim. This was the first time he had been able to enter Israel in over ten years. Although we had to smuggle him today, he had in fact just obtained a three-month permit that Danny had been able to arrange through their joint work with the dialogue processes. While I was happy that this had been possible, Ibrahim's wife was not able to get a permit and couldn't join us. And, Ibrahim could not stay for dinner as the permit mandated that he be back in the West Bank by 7pm, or risk being arrested. As i started to appreciate the reality of Ibrahim's situation, it struck me that most Palestinians would never have the opportunity to even get a permit. How is it that we allow someone / a system to control another person's fundamental human right to self-determination?
As we continued our drive to Jerusalem, I inquired more into this lack of basic freedom. What will happen when the wall reaches Makram’s hotel I asked? "I don’t know," Ibrahim said. We discussed the fact that Makram's family was now making plans to immigrate to the USA. Makram had appealed to the highest court in Israel to allow the Everest to end up on the Israeli side of the wall, but his request had been denied. Even if the hotel could survive financially and stay open, without Makram, it would only be a building, a lifeless shell. And, the Everest had become much more than a hotel. It had become a place where Palestinians, Israelis and internationals could meet, a place where stories could be shared and people could dare to dream together, a place where we could realize our common humanity.
My chest and shoulders tightened. What would happen to Makram and his family? How would this important dialogue work continue? How would we be able to meet as friends? And what would this mean for the region as a whole? Without the opportunity to meet and to understand the other, this physical divide could only lead to greater separation, fear and mistrust.
Our attention was then pulled back to the current situation. Realizing that the borders were closed, we began to question if the two men Danny had invited from Gaza would be able to get through. Many calls followed to the checkpoint officers and other contacts to enable their safe passage. Danny had worked months to obtain entry permissions for Mohammad and Imad and he was doing everything in his power to make sure that they would not be turned back.
When they finally arrived to Nella’s, they shared their stories of getting here. They had in fact risked their lives to come, passing tanks and military forces on both sides. Knowing the danger and difficulties, I wondered why they had still chosen to come? I knew that i would not be as brave and that my natural instinct would have been to stay in bed under the covers.
It was so hard to conceive and even more painful to feel. They were prisoners in their own country. The borders were blocked on all sides, by land and by water, even the border with Egypt. Since the Hamas had come to power most of the international aid, trade and relations had been severed. Public servant employees hadn’t been paid in months, schools had been forced to close, and people lacked the basics for daily life. And, they lived in fear, day and night. Mohammed told us that when it was time to sleep, his son would crawl into their bed and ask him to protect him with his body, like a shield. We talked about the 19 innocent people, mostly women and children, who were killed while they slept. We talked about the retaliation and the rocket attacks in Sderot where Eric lives. His children too are traumatized and frequently come to his room to sleep with him and his wife.
What does it mean for the world when children are scared even to sleep?
I am saddened, angry and ashamed. Ashamed of myself for living my life in such a bubble. Ashamed that we can treat each other with such a lack of humanity. When I lived in Canada, I rarely watched the news. I thought it was too depressing, too big, and too distant. I didn’t feel that there was anything I could do. I would flip the channel or turn the page of the newspaper. "They are at it again", I would think. "It has happened for years and it will only continue. It's sad and disturbing but there is nothing I can do."
And now, here I am in the middle of it. When I meet people like Mohammad, Imad, Eric, Ibrahim and Nella, who are living this reality, I am forced to think about it and to feel it. And, when I let myself feel, I am overcome with emotion and a sense of personal responsibility. I know that I can’t just sit by anymore.
I also know that we need to be able to keep the dialogue going. It is not to be taken lightly that Mohammad and Imad made the long and arduous journey just for the opportunity to meet and to share their stories. Nor that these people, Palestinians and Israelis, could sit in the same room together and talk, after everything that has happened between them. And by sharing their stories, that they could feel compassion and empathy for the other and allow themselves to feel some hope for a better way forward, even if it was just for an afternoon in Jerusalem in Nella's living room.
Gestatation
Tomorrow I will go to the West Bank to participate in a three-day training workshop to facilitate dialogue between Palestinians and Israelis. There will be four Israelis, one international (myself) and thirteen Palestinians as well as the trainers - three Europeans and the organizers – an Israeli (Danny), a Palestinian and a couple from the US whose vision it was to start this organization and who continue to shepherd and fund its way forward.
The event will take place in what Danny calls West Bank “light”. An area just past an Israeli checkpoint that is fairly secure and can still be accessed by Palestinians and Israelis – meaning that the wall still hasn’t reached there yet.
I am told that in the most part it is a safe area. There is, of course, always a chance of an untimely bombing while going through the check-point. And, it is still after all, the West Bank. That being said, I was there last year and it was fine. Why then do I feel a bit anxious?
On our drive home tonight, Danny mentioned that one of the participants' brothers was a suicide bomber and had likely killed many people including himself. I asked if he was worried about him attending. He said no, he wasn’t worried. He just felt that it could be a bit loaded if it comes up. He said that it is uncertain whether it will be talked about and if we will even know who he is amongst the participants.
I probed further about security. Are you sure about him? What if he or someone else hears about the event and wants to sabotage it? He assured me that people have better targets than to blow-up a hotel in the West Bank with a number of Palestinians present.
I felt better but not completely at ease. While the chances are likely small, it is still possible that something could happen. Then again i could also get hit by a car, right? Somehow though, the reality of what i am embarking on hit me this evening. And, it made me really question why am I doing this. Of course, this wasn’t an entirely new insight, but somehow I hadn’t felt the reality as intensely before.
So why then am I doing this?
The more I get involved in this work the more I will open myself up to increased risk. I am training to be a facilitator of these processes. What am I signing myself up for?
It is not an easy question to answer. Something inside of me feels that I need to do this. Something inside of me can’t just sit by and say that I’m too scared. Something inside of me feels that it will all be OK. Am I naïve?
Part of me just wants to learn to be a good facilitator -- to have the capacity to create safe spaces where real change can happen. I am fascinated by how to bring about large-scale systemic change in society. As, I am sure, many people in my line of work (sustainability) are. This isn’t about large-scale change though, or trying to solve macro issues. This is about bringing small groups of people together to connect as individuals, not as Palestinians, or Israelis, or Internationals, but to meet each other as people and to realize our common humanity. Something about this moved me when Danny first told me about this process in Vienna. It was just after we met and before I had any idea that we would become a couple. I listened to him with intense emotion. I told him that I wasn’t sure how, but I felt that somehow this conversation had just changed my life. At that point, I had no idea of how things would unfold.
And now, here I am, living in a small agricultural village in Israel with Danny and his two non-English speaking children. Crazy, or what?
So, back to the question of "why".
Am I doing this because just because of Danny? I don’t think so.
Perhaps I can’t understand why just yet. Perhaps it is just a feeling that will sit with me and gestate for a while longer. Is it a calling? I am not sure. But something inside of me feels compelled to do this and I guess the answers will come when they are ready.
Arrival
Happy Yom Kippur from Israel! I have arrived during the holiday season, starting with New Year’s eve last Friday, now Yom Kippur. While some consider Yom Kippur the holiest day in the Jewish religion – a day of fasting and atonement – I see it as the official 24-hours of sustainable transportation. Starting from sundown today until sundown tomorrow, nobody drives. And, sure enough, as Danny predicted, there were long, long queues at all the bike stores today. People have a whole year to prepare and then wait until the last day along with everyone else to get their bikes sorted. I am learning that this is a somewhat typical middle-eastern “non” planning style.
The KidsSo we are at home now with “the kids”. Did I really just write that? :> Yes, I guess I did. They are here today and tomorrow over Yom Kippur, which is a holiday from school and work. Literally everything shuts down. Even the television stations don’t broadcast. Typically we have the kids Monday and Thursday (afternoon and evenings) and every second weekend. The weekend here -- btw -- is Friday and Saturday.
“The kids” are great and have accepted me quite easily. Oren, Danny’s daughter, is turning ten in a week. She is quite wise and analytical for someone so small and even has her own blog. And, she is also a little girl with a big smile who wants McDonalds and ice-cream, collects Bratz dolls, loves animals and sucks her thumb in the backseat of the car when she is tired and overwhelmed. Itamar is six and very independent. Don’t try telling him what to do or offer to help him. He wants to do it on his own, his way, even if he struggles. He seems to have inherited this from his father. :> He is very active and also very sweet, although not as outwardly warm to me as Oren.
Since I arrived we have started to rollerblade together. There is a rollerblading rink and mini skate park where you can rent blades and zoom around to music. So, this has been fun to do together. Given the absence of cars, we tried blading on the roads in the village where we live this evening. The roads are rather bumpy though, so this was short-lived.
Village Life
We are living in a little agricultural village, Kfar Sirkin, a half-hour from Tel Aviv. It is surrounded by fruit orchards and good mountain biking trails. It has been so hot though (85-100 degrees Fahrenheit – 30-37 Celsius) that the best time for biking is at 7am or 5pm. I haven’t managed to wake up for any early AM bike rides yet but have gone biking a bit in the evenings. We just got our mountain bikes tuned up, so more to come!
The village has a community centre two minutes away by bike with an outdoor pool, small gym, tennis courts and sauna. I LOVE the pool and sauna (I got hooked on saunas in Sweden). The pool closes down in two weeks though but I’m trying to convince the guy who runs it to keep the sauna over the winter. The gym will stay open for sure. There is a larger gym that is maybe a 15-20 minute bike ride through the back roads. I may join this one as the pool stays open all year, has lots of classes, a better gym, and of course a sauna. Danny warms me though that when the winter comes heavy rains and mud might dissuade me from making the trek there. There is something to be said for a close commute. Apparently there are other classes in the village too but I haven’t found out about this yet. I haven’t had much chance to make friends here yet but have started to meet some friendly Russian immigrants in the sauna. And, my organic gardening mentor, Nadav, is waiting for me around the corner, when I am ready to get down in the dirt.
Dogs and Cat, Fleas and Rat!For now, I have been dealing with the dirt in our house. Danny is renting a house in the village that is simple but comfortable. Our bedroom, the kids room, my new office / guest room, Danny’s office, kitchen, two bathrooms, living room and small porch off the back of our room. There is a big yard / field in the back with green and yellow parrots flying around in our pecan trees. We have spent the past two weeks settling in together as a couple, cleaning and moving things around. One week after arrival we caught what was either a very big mouse or a small rat. Now, some of you might know about my rodent phobia. When I was awoken to mice in my bedroom in the old orange house on Ontario St, I called Jen in the middle of the night to ask if I could stay over, after trying to sleep in the bathtub, and deciding that this was not even a safe option. So, needless to say, I have been a little “freaked” out. Before I moved here I told Danny that I was pretty laid back about cleaning and liked things tidy but lived in. Well, he is now convinced that I am completely compulsive, as I have been a bit manic about washing and sterilizing everything. We have now cemented in the holes where we think the intruders were coming in and hopefully there will be no more unwanted visitors. Danny had bought a kitten before I arrived to be the official mouser, but “Skittie”, while playful and delightful is not much bigger than the mouse/rat. So, fingers crossed for no more rodents.
So, the day after we get the holes plugged and the “shit” cleaned out of the closets, we get infested by fleas. Danny has two dogs that live under the porch who have attracted a lot of admirers. Danny went down to pesticide the area, which sent them “flea-ing” upstairs. This resulted in a sleepless night in bed picking off the little buggers … So, yes, I have felt rather traumatized this past week. Hopefully the worst is over and we can start focusing more on fun and less on home invasions. Paul was right in more ways than one when he said that I was more fearful of do”micile” than missiles!
On that note, the feeling here has been quite calm since I arrived. There is a sense that things will be peaceful for a while. How long this will last until the next eruption, nobody knows. But for now, my battles are being fought on the home front.
(Ok – strike this comment – I just read the news about Gaza this morning. That being said, while its a very sad situation and quite close to where we are living from a North American perspective, it is seemingly far away by Israeli standards).
Friends and FamilyAs we have been quite consumed in contending with pest-free survival, I still haven’t met a lot of people aside from Danny’s family and a few of his friends. Danny’s family is quite small, his older brother, Alon, his wife Rona, and twins (two sets!), his mom, Bianka, and his Aunt Janka, who is more like a grandma. The family is Polish by origin so we have perogies in common. I like his family very much and they have made me feel at home, right away.
Dependency
I think that one of my biggest challenges (other than the obvious) has been feeling so dependent on Danny. His country, language, car, house, kids, family, friends, etc, etc. Every time I need to do something I have to ask his help. This will all come over time, but it is difficult for me, and a lot to ask of him. So, I have to take steps to be more pro-active and also make some of my own friends. That being said, I do have to remind myself that it has just been 2.5 weeks since I arrived. Patience, grasshopper…
HebrewOne of my priorities before I arrived was to begin learning Hebrew immediately so that I could transition into life here more quickly. So, with that in mind, I landed at the “Ulpan” (Hebrew language school), 36 hours after arrival. Classes start in September and I had already missed four classes so I thought I should go to check it out despite the fact that I was completely jet-lagged and could barely keep my eyes open (10 hour time difference from Vancouver). I’m thinking I’m pretty good at languages and I can catch up. Well, I get to the class and the teacher is speaking only in Hebrew. AND—writing on the board in squiggles from right to left. Not even printing the characters, which I might have had a chance of deciphering a few. But writing, in cursive style, completely unrecognizable lines and swirls. Two and a half hours of torture as I tried to stay awake and understand what the #$$%@% was going on. Finally everyone gets up and I think its time to leave. But no, they start touching various body parts and mumbling things I can’t understand. The only positive outcome was that I came away knowing “Touseek” – or “Ass” after I watched everyone touch their bums a few times!
In the end, not wanting to subject myself to additional, unneeded stress, my tutelage at the Ulpan was short-lived. For now, I am learning a little on my own with a book and picking up quite a bit being with Danny and the kids (who don’t speak much English). When I am ready, I will look into a tutor or possibly sign up for a class in January.
And, the good life…And, along with the challenges, I also really like it here …
I love having so much fresh fruit and veggies grown locally. I have been making big bowls of fruit salad every morning with mango, passionfruit, guava, pomegranate, etc. Overall, I’m quite enamoured by the food here, especially the great ready-made homous, eggplant and chicken dishes that reheat very nicely in the microwave! I will start cooking eventually I’m sure, but I have enough on my plate (:>) for the time being… And, Danny’s quite a good cook, so that helps!
I also love the warm-weather lifestyle. The roads are lined with date palms and bright coloured flowers. I wear tank tops, skirts/shorts and flip-flops every day. The evenings are wonderfully balmy. The sea is only a half an hour drive away – sandy beaches, warm water and cool restaurants with comfy chairs and couches to relax in. You can feel like you are permanently on holiday.
Tel Aviv and nearby Hertziliya are both very hip with lots of interesting corners, shops, restaurants and live music. Jaffa, a historic Arab town next to Tel Aviv is also fun to explore. And, Jerusalem, is simply beyond words. It is truly a fascinating country. Soon we will go to the south of Israel for a weekend, on the border of Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Jordan. Cool, or what?
DannyAnd, last but not least Danny has been great. He has been very caring, understanding and supportive in helping me get settled here. He is also a wonderful, father and son and very giving to those around him. Of course, getting used to living together has not been a complete breeze. We have had our moments, heightened by my rodent rampage. And, I have to admit that there is something about someone else’s dirt that is much grosser than your own. All in all, though, we are finding our way together and having some fun too.
So, on that note, I will go now to see what the rest of the household is up to -- Danny, kids, Dogs, Cat, Fleas, Rat....
