Tel Aviv...

Well, after fifteen hours of flying……I’m HERE! I’m currently sitting in a hotel room in Tel Aviv, having already walked down to the Dizengoff Center and having been utterly confused by its layout….

It’s a little scary, I’ll admit. The nice thing about going with something like Birthright was that you weren’t the ONLY confused jackass. You were one of 40 confused jackasses—wandering into oncoming traffic, tripping over things because you’re too busy looking up at everything, and generally having no clue how things work.

Here, alone in Tel Aviv, I am the ONLY jackass.

I never used to cross the street against the signal when I was in LA, even if the street was completely abandoned but living in Chicago/Evanston for the past two years has kind of warped me. Now I cross the street whenever I damn well feel like crossing the street.

Um, so….first lesson learned in Israel? Do NOT cross the street whenever you damn well feel like crossing said street.

I had also forgotten how much people honk their car horns here. By the end of the day though, I just convinced myself that all the cars were trying to get my attention. Everyone wanted to say hi!

I also went into a market today for dinner provisions. And I also managed to fuck that up. You know those little divider things you can sometimes use to say, “This is my stuff, that is the other lady’s stuff”? Well, they had none of those, so I just waited until there was enough space. Finally there was enough, and I was about to put my stuff down when (without a single word) the cashier lady plopped a bar down that read in Hebrew “CLOSED.” And I thought, “Wow….um….that was rude.” And I slowly started to back away. The lady gave me a look like I was crazy, and gestured for me to put my stuff down….I was really confused, but whatever…..


Finally, I noticed this during my last stay here, but now I’m reminded of it. Why is it that, every few blocks wherever I am in Israel I hear a bunch of physically fit but extraordinarily hairy men in their 20’s calling out for their friend, who is always called Avi? They wonder out loud where Avi is, they ask when Avi is coming, etc etc….

A Question, Please:

Who is this Avi, and why is he always getting separated from his group?

If I have children here, I will have to name at least one Avi so that (many years from now) when I hear these hairy men who now are older (or maybe this is a trait exclusive to 20 year olds here?) but still calling for Avi, I can just grab one of my children and say, “HERE he is, OKAY? OKAY!?!?!?! YOU CAN SHUT UP NOW!!!!”

Is Avi just an extremely popular name here?

Still, I friggin’ love it here. And I haven’t even been here for 24 hours. And it’s warmer and wetter than a whale fart right now. But that’s okay, too.

P.S. Where are the Israeli dweebs at? Why is everyone here so cool? Shit!