A Taste of TelAviv

February 1, 2010
So today is my first real day in Israel. I got in yesterday, after Delta lost both of my bags. So now I am everything-less. Clothes-less, shoeless, shampooless! Just about everything is missing. I got in, remembered way more than I thought I would, in terms of restaurants, street names and places in general. So I passed out on the couch when I arrived at my friend Yam’s apartment, which is exactly one block away from the beach. I woke up from knocks, door bell rings and calls from Yam. We talked about old friends, Israel, and other frivolities you discuss when you haven’t seen someone in two years. We met his neighbor and they were speaking in Hebrew, I understood most of it but I don’t know if they realized that I can understand that much. Anyways they asked me about what I was studying and I mentioned Arabic. So his neighbor decided to tell me a joke. He looks at me and asks, what do you call it when there are three Arabs in the ocean? I answered, quite awkwardly (not wanting to be in this position), I don’t know. He says, pollution. Continuing, he says what do you call three million Arabs in the ocean? Again, this time with obvious discomfort, I answered I don’t know. He says pollution. I am flabbergasted. But, then, I remember where I am. And where I just came from. Regardless of the issues I have with the Arab world, I love and care for the people in it every bit as much as my Israeli friends. Awkward.

I actually just woke up today, at 1:00pm. I slept for a good twelve hours and needed every bit of it. Now, I am venturing out to find a cell phone, sip some coffee and relax.

Just got back from the shook (market) and am ready to cook fresh Israeli Salmon from the Mediterranean! I literally could just sit and watch interactions all day. I walked through the market streets taking in the sights, aromatic scents and atmosphere of the Israeli nation. The weather is a beautiful 65 degrees Fahrenheit with a slight wind and beautiful bright sun. Crossing streets being wary of sheruts (large publict taxi’s) and bumbling, smoking buses, I walk back and forth across the streets- just because. I enter the HaCarmel Market, about a 15 minute walk away from my friends’ apartment and enter, ready to experience again the craziness of the markets. Typical things include shouting daily prices, juices of unknown sources dripping into the walkways, old women pushing their way through with rolling carts, haggling for lower prices and more. I examine the “way” to do it before I jump back in. Hesitant, but still acutely confident, I stride up to the first stand to buy some vegetables. Always, and I mean always, go to the stand with the most locals. You know it’s the best. Success! So vegetables in hand (thank god I remembered my Hebrew numbers!) I decided to purchase some fresh fish. Called dag (sounds like dog) in Hebrew, I always find it funny asking for dag instead of fish.. Now, I am cooking in my friend Yam’s apartment. I am attempting to make fresh cream and strawberries. The crème is not setting, dang it.