Back from Israel

The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs.  So did the little old ladies of Jerusalem, fearlessly striding up and down the streets of Jerusalem with their shopping carts.  I could barely walk, and seriously thought I would die there.  On about the third day, I got better, and there was no stopping me.  Sort of.  My daughter, who is a hiker, strode ahead of me and kept stopping to let me catch up.  But still, I loved Israel.

After Israel, the sunshine here looks like a black and white picture.  Is it so much nearer the sun?

We were there two weeks, and would have stayed longer and seen more, but I was out of clean underwear and longing for an all night drugstore.

I am a terrible packer and know it; still, I never improve.  I pack summer clothes, and freeze when I arrive at my destination.  I forget pain relievers.  I can't find a pharmacy.  I can't find Tums anywhere.  Don't Israelis have stomach aches?  Especially with all the sweets they eat?

The food was wonderful: fresh vegetables, olives, pickles, hummus, halva, falafel, fish.   The meat, not so much.  But I could live on falafel.  And did.

The Arab traders:  "It doesn't cost anything to look!"  "You are my first customer of the day, you bring me luck!"  "I like you, that's why I give you a good price!"  But somehow it seems okay.  This is their shtick.

Incidentally, all Israelis DO NOT speak English, except when you don't want them to, as when taxi drivers ask whether you are going to vote for Clinton or Bush.  

I'm still a little hazy.  More later.  Maybe.