BBQ with Conan O'Brien

Last night was the shul BBQ and I met some nice people. But the highlight of the evening was when I watched the opening skit from this past Sunday's EMMY's. It was absolutely hysterical. Conan crawling into the overhead compartment on the plane was particularly funny since Conan is at least 7 feet tall. But the whole spoof on the Dateline sexual predator episode was great, albiet not really such a topic to make fun of since it was really scary to see how many men actually showed up to that home thinking they were going to have sex with underaged kids.

Thanks to Shulamit and Marnina for chatting last night, I was so wired from the BBQ when I got home, I had to talk to them in order to unwind. Rumor also has it that Neil, Rantz and Gruber are back from South Africa. I hope by now they've thawed out and that Neil has finally slept. I expect a full report on the trip (and, more importantly, I need to know what present they brought back for me!!!).

Oh, and I also learned something interesting last night. Apparently, if a guy uses the term "Lehazmin" (which means to invite) when referring to coffee, it means he wants to take you out somewhere for coffee. But, if he just says "I want to come over for coffee", that means a hook up. Coming over for coffee is the Israeli code for booty call. Thank you to Sarah for giving me that very important, and essential, tip.

So, I've been thinking a lot about the whole Ronen situation. Now, he didn't invite himself over for coffee, he actually invited me out to coffee, so at least that part is legitimate. And, the Ronen situation got me thinking of one of my lawyer friends in NYC. A few months ago, he was on the Acela down to D.C. for work when some beautiful woman walked by his seat, dropped her business card, and then got off of the train. Her business card had a NYC work address and my friend, who I think is deep down a closet romantic, decided to call her. One, because she had the balls to do something like that. Two, because he was intrigued by the entire situation and he wanted to see how it would play out. Three, because she was apparently gorgeous! So, he called her when he got back to town and they met up for drinks in the neighborhood. Needless to say, it was not a love match. However, he was extremely proud that he followed through (and I was too, that took a lot of guts for her to do so it was nice that he went out with her especially since he was single). OK, so back to my situation. In NYC, when someone tries to pick you up in a bar/gym/subway, 9 times out of 10, you don't go out with them. For me, it's because the guys picking me up are typically never Jewish. But here I am in Israel, and chances are that the guys picking me up ARE Jewish. So, should I just take a chance are go?

If you were me, would you call Ronen?

Today is going to be a busy day. I have class from Noon - 5:00 pm, then I'm coming home and changing for the gym where I'll be doing cardio and weights, and then it's back home for a quick shower and change before hitting Jerusalem. I've been to Israel now for 2 weeks and still haven't gone to Jerusalem. Since I have a ride, I know it's definitely time to go.

Song of the day is As Sure as the Sun by the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BRMC). This is one of my favorite songs to hear they play in concert.

Israeli T's

The men in Israel walk around wearing t-shirts and I honestly don't think they understand what they mean. I've see so many The Man/The Legend t's, and well, I guess I can understand those. But the ones that say No you can NOT stay over just baffles me. Melissa and I once discussed launching a t-shirt business. In fact, she's designed a number of cool t's that she totally should sell. We could ask Seth and Issac to sell them on the site.

Melis - design a t-shirt for the following slogan

I'm not your green card.

We'll sell them to American women vacationing in Israel.

So, this morning started off really nicely. I was heading to Dizengoff Center to do some shopping when I met Ronen. He literally looks like the Israeli version of Patrick Dempsey. His pick up line: Mah Inyanim (what's up) and I just smiled and kept walking. He started to follow me and asked where I was going. I told him I didn't speak Hebrew, so he switched to broken English. So he said I should take him with me. I laughed and said I was on my way to get a bikini wax, but he was more than welcome to join me. He asked me for my number, I refused. We compromised and I wrote down his phone number. Maybe I'll call him later.

I hit the Center and went to this small salon/spa place to get some grooming done. I told them I didn't speak Hebrew, and so when they spoke about me during my appointment it was pretty funny. Fortunately, they were just commenting on the color of my eyes. They were trying to figure out if it was real or not. We'll see what kind of stuff they'll say next time.

Anyway, I went to Steinmetsky and found a brand new copy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead which was super exciting! I was in the middle of this before I moved but didn't take the book with me as it weights 8 pounds! In hindsight, I should have just packed it, I had to pay for an extra suitcase anyway.

Once my shopping was done, I headed back to the apartment for a quick bite to eat and to catch up on some reading for school. At 3:30, I headed up North towards the gym and had a great workout. I should have left earlier, but the Grey's Anatomy episode with Meredith and the bomb was on and I wanted to watch the whole thing. Next thing I know, it was 5:30, and I still had to get back home, shower and change before the shul BBQ.

Tonight is a BBQ for new members at the shul, I figured it would be a good idea to go and sign up and make sure I have a seat for Yom Kippur.

I'll blog about it all later.

Enjoy the day!

Henna Hands

I missed my friend Hetal's wedding this weekend in Tennessee, but Cuch sent over photos so I could see what the festivities were all about. Absolutely gorgeous. It would have been my first authentic Indian affair, and I was looking forward to buying and wearing a Sari, but Israel called.

I met Het a few years ago through the Cuch, we had an off-the-hook time at the Cuch/Kess nuptials in Arizona. Plus. the times Het came to NYC to visit were legendary. Remember that night at Link? Enough said.

I posted the photo of Hetal's hands the morning after the wedding, and I think that the henna for a bride is absolutely gorgeous. One of my goals while in Israel is to get invited to a Persian henna ceremony, for the free henna of course.

Last night, I went to the boardwalk to do some writing. I was pretty tired from the 3+hours at the gym but still had some energy to burn and felt it was a good time to write. The Tayelet at night is a bit like Times Square in the summer. Crowded, smelly, a mix of tourist and natives trying to get from one place to another, kids enjoying summer off from school, bums, panhandlers and stray animals. I felt right at home and kept looking for the pretzel pushcarts to show up. I walked a while up the Tayelet until I found one of the seating areas that were empty. I knew it wouldn't empty for very long but hoped to get some private time at least initially.

I got as far as plugging into my iPod and taking out my notebook before I had company. I noticed the gigantic, electric blue hookah first, before the pre-teens that carried it. One of them asked me if I minded the smoking and I thanked him for being so kind to inquire and said no. I was fascinated and wanted to watch them. Now, it's not the first time I've seen a hookah. I actually went with Jules and Jenny to Kush when it was next door to Breakbeat Science on the LES, but I've never smoked from one. The whole sharing of this plastic tubing that lord knows when it was cleaned isn't my thing.

Anyway, back to the boys. They were all 17 and had come in from Jerusalem for the night, to smoke their apple flavored tobacco and pick up girls on the Tayelet. We tried to chat but their English was pretty bad and my Hebrew was worse. After a while, we grew bored of each other, and the boys picked up and moved a few feet down to cluster around a woman panhandler. She was strumming an acoustic guitar and singing in Hebrew, and at that point, had attracted quite an audience. With the pre-teen girls swarming, the boys knew exactly where the action was at.

It really inspired me, and I began working on a new short story. The runt of the bunch especially, he was the stereotypical mouthpiece/joker and I've named the character in my short "Popeye" in his honor.

Mind you, I never got their names, but the 20 minutes of interaction was all I needed for character development. It was great.

Today is going to be busy too. I want to go to Dizengoff and walk around looking for TV's and bedding, I want to buy a couple of pillows too, the one I'm using now is pretty bad and stinks like smoke.

Song of the day: Playground Love by Air.

Body English

Yehuda
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

I'm so fricken happy today. Like, singing on the rooftops happy. And it's because I spent 3 hours at the gym today AND got myself a trainer.

Meet Yehuda, the fruit of the loins of an Israeli Father and a Rhodesian/Zimbabwein mother (how cool!) who is a trainer at Pure. So, first I went to the gym to do my usual 45 minutes of cardio, and then I had a session with Yehuda. At first, he just wrote out a program that each new member at the gym is entitled to, but after chatting we agreed that he would train me once a week.

Guess how much it's going to cost me?

120 shekels a session. And a session is anywhere between 60 and 75 minutes!

Can you believe that? A 45 minute session with Victoria at NYSC costs about 4X's as much. In fact, a 10 pack at NYSC runs $1400!

In Israel, they are really aware of the Kegel muscle. That was very interesting, I've never really worked that muscle before, but he's going to make sure I add that to my ab routine. Plus, they are really big on the lower back area. He said it was for strengthening, but I just think women like it toned so that the tattoo looks good.

I'm happy, happy, happy. We're working out next Wednesday and, in the meantime, I have to do weights 2 times a week (in addition to our session together). Can't wait! As long as I get to the gym when the traffic is pretty light, i.e. afternoons, I should be all set.

Now all I need to do is figure out what's for dinner.

Song of the evening is Sugarhigh by Coyote Rivers and off of the Empire Records soundtrack.

Just Say No to Dates

Saw You at Sinai
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

This blog entry is for the people in my life who I love, appreciate, and who really mean well. Please don't think me ungrateful.

Almost two weeks in country and I've decided no more dates. Period. Don't even bother trying to change my mind. It won't happen. I changed my status on Saw You at Sinai to "out of the country" and have no timetable when I plan on turning it back on.

So what brought this about?

Couple of reasons. One is that I've been fielding phone calls from people who all know someone, who knows someone else, who has a Grandson/Nephew/Cousin/Friend, etc. who would be perfect for me. Granted, these are people who have never even met me, but that's when the whole you never know where it's going to come from romantic ideal kicks in.

Look, I really believe that life could be like Serendipity, so I'm just going to write my phone number in the flap of "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, leave it at the used box store in the Shuk HaCarmel, and wait for Mr. Right to find me. Hopefully he'll come calling once I'm really settled.

Here's the other reason why I'm done with dating. Remember the blog about the cab driver who gave me shit for still being single at 29, well his friend did call me. I was in the middle of signing up for the gym last week when he called, and I had to call him back a few hours later, and try in my broken Hebrew to explain that I wasn't dating right now. Only, I had no idea how to say it. And he wasn't getting the message. I think it was a comprehension issue as opposed to him just not taking "no" for an answer. Anyway, once I told him that Ani Lo Rotzah Otchah (which means, I don't want YOU), he understood and hung up. That made me feel awful, I didn't want to hurt his feelings, I don't even know him.

Don't even brouch the dating topic until November. I'm not interested.

OK, now that that's out of the way, it's 10:20 am and I'm still in PJ's, listening to the new Kasabian album, and chilling. I love that more than anything. I crashed hard last night and slept really well. There could have been a freakin mariachi band outside of my window and I wouldn't have noticed. Today is going to be busy too, I have to write a 1,000 word essay on one of the short stories from "Tevye the Dairyman". I have to select the story that speaks to me and write about it. That won't be hard, I only liked one of the pieces, so at least I have the selection. Next it's on to reading a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne and then it's off to the gym. I can't wait to hit the gym, I need a good workout desperately.

Otherwise, I'm going to be doing some more furniture shopping. I really need an office table and chairs, and something heavy enough to lock my Mac to when I leave the apartment.

Any Tel Avivians reading this blog, who can recommend a good place to get furniture and bedding (I need a pillow man), please let me know!

Song of the day: Hurricane by Bob Dylan. (In honor of my family, friends and favorite client preparing for Ernesto in Florida. And yes, I know the song is NOT about a weather hurricane but until someone writes a song about an actual hurricane, instead of the boxer, this will have to do).

Back to School

Back to School
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

As I walked to the bus stop at 7:45 am this morning, I thought about all the times I had a first day of school. I vaguely remember my Mom packing up a new knapsac, with a new Hello Kitty pencil case (with sharpened pencils of course) and the smell of new shoes when I was in my early years. My first day of Freshman year of high school, I wore my Gap finest gear, and danced like a loon at the Chagigah. My first day of Sophomore year of high school, I went to classes in my pajamas with a skirt on top. I don't remember if I even brushed my teeth that morning, but grunge was all the rage and I no longer needed to impress. And that's really when my memories stop, because by the time I entered college, first days of school were no big deal.

Today was the exception.

But, before I talk about the longest day I've had in a while, I need to start with last night.

Last night, when I should have been a "good girl" and disciplined enough to head to bed at a reasonable hour, I went out drinking with Ari instead. And, while out with him, I violated the cardinal rule for beer drinkers. This rule was taught to me by my friend Kim, who is another lover of Hoegaarden beer and Dive 75 on 75th and Columbus. (Man, I miss that place!)

Basically, to ensure that you'll sleep after a night of throwing back brews, you have to have a specific amount to drink. She calls it the 3 drink rule because, let's face it, no one can really stop after 1 pint. Of course, I blame the narcissist himself, who had to go to work, and therefore we were only able to get two beers in before he was on the clock. Oh, and by the way, he's exactly the way he portrays himself on his blog. Yup, a complete tool. And, oh yeah, we're going to be great friends.

So, I left Ari and his friend at his "job" and headed back to my apartment, thinking that I was going to be able to sleep through the night. I was clearly drunk, because I couldn't get to sleep! And, right when the buzz started wearing off, a crew of 8 Israeli's decided to sit outside my window and smoke, drink, and scream at each other in Hebrew. Until 4:30 a.m.

My alarm was going off at 6:15 am

I should have purchased stock in Visine before I left the States, I think I went through an entire bottle this morning.

The trip to school was great, I was able to relax while listening to my iPod, and made my way to the English department to deal with registration. I wasn't thrilled to be carrying the entire amount of my tuition in shekel (bills mind you), but fortunately I was able to offload the money fairly quickly. And, the best part of the morning is that I made a friend. (Cue the violins).

Tamara is a married, mother of two, hailing originally from Portland, Oregon and residing in Raanana. Similar to how Jules and I just really hit it off during our first night of the Gotham Writer's Workshop, same thing happened with Tamara. It was great. We met the rest of the folks in the program and then headed into orientation.

I'm not going to bore everyone with the nitty gritty details, mostly because I think it will put me to sleep and I'm trying desperately to stay up right now! But, we had our very first class and the writing and reading were very interesting.

First assignment: The plot is that someone's life has been ruined because of a devestating secret. Write about it.

Then, we read what we wrote out loud, and the instructor and people in the class commented and critiqued. I purposely did not volunteer to read mine aloud. I wanted to see how other people wrote, before I decided to give up the "goods". At one point, a gentleman in the class said that it was "time to squewer the publicist", which seemed to indicate that he assumed my writing was crap, but I just let the comment slide. He'll eventually get to read my shit, just needs to have a little patience.

At the end of the class, Tamara drove me down to the bus stop and I waited for 45 minutes in the hot sun for the bus to come (I literally missed the last bus by 5 minutes, which sucked).

I have some heavy duty writing assignments that I need to complete by Thursday (next time we meet for class), and some more reading to do, but otherwise I think the summer session should be good. The goal is to have 2 completed short stories, and since my thesis will probably consist of at least 15, this is a great start.

I'm too tired to go out tonight, and since Eli is no longer coming South for the party, I think I'm going to bail. Now all I have to do is figure out what's for dinner, and then it's straight to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.

Holy crap, I have homework!

Song of the day: Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve. It's great background music for reading.

Shopping on Sheinken

Joey's Bar
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

It's 2:30 pm in Israel and I've had quite a busy morning! I decided today was a good day to explore Sheinken, which I've been told is the Tel Aviv version of Soho.

As my Israeli friends would say, KehEloo (English translation as "like, but not really).

Of course, I consulted my map before leaving the apartment and thought I had a basic understanding of where I was heading. I walked up Allenby and kept looking for the street on my right. I walked past a number of bars and pubs until I hit the Shuk HaCarmel and I decided to take a look at the shuk before I hit Sheinken.

The shuk was pretty interesting, a little different from the one I'm used to in Jerusalem. At the top of the shuk are a lot of clothing, accessories and souvenirs (sp?) while the food kiosks are clustered near the bottom. I saw a lot of head covering (Israeli shmata's as my friends at home call them) and was going to pick up a bunch for my sisters, but decided to just wait until October. I'll take my parents there when they come to visit and my Mom can buy my sisters whatever she thinks they would like.

Anyway, I kept walking up Allenby (remember, I'm coming from the very bottom of Allenby by the water, so for me I was walking up) and kept looking for Sheinken, to no avail. What I did find was this huge Russian liquor store. I walked in looking for a very specific bottle and brand of vodka, but since I spoke no Russian, communicating with the store clerk was a little difficult.

So the long and short of the story is as follows. A few years ago, my cousin Meir, his girlfriend Andrea, and I met up for dinks in Soho at Casa La Femme. The restaurant/bar has since moved North and out of Soho, in case my US readers want to check it out after hearing this story. So, I had just moved in with my Grandfather on the Lower East Side (Meir's grandpa too) and had found a box of Cuban cigars that belonged to my Great Uncle in the back of my closet. I brought them with us to the bar because I wanted to share the find, even though we all don't smoke cigars, but it was pretty cool that something my Uncle Benjy brought back from Cuba years ago managed to last this long! So, I had the box of cigars on the bar, and we were all chatting, when the bartender sidled over and struck up a conversation. We told him that story behind the cigar box, and then he made up this amazing shot that has chocolate and passion fruit and all sort of yummy stuff. Andrea, meanwhile, had been drinking his chocolate martinis (if I go out for martinis, I stick with the same kind. In my book, you just can't go wrong with an Extra Dirty Ketel One martini) all night long. When she asked him for the recipe, he proposed an interesting trade. One Cuban cigar, for the secret recipe. I accepted.

The secret to a great chocolate martini, in addition to using Godiva chocolate liquor is Kremlyovskaya chocolate vodka. Of course, after he gave me all of the measurements, I scouted out the city looking for a bottle. Turns out, you need to special order it, and it wasnt cheap. Well, I had talking about this bottle at work for so long, that my friend Jill decided to surprise me on my birthday and ordered the bottle for me. And, it sat unopened in my freezer, aging gracefully, until the day I moved out of my apartment a month ago. I finally opened up the bottle and toasted my friend Josh, who got a great mix and the bottle as my goodbye gift to him.

So, back to the Russian liquor store. I'm hoping that I'll be able to find this particular brand of vodka because I would love to make chocolate martinis if I ever have that housewarming party. At this point though, I have plenty of time to get my act together.

Before I go on with shopping on Sheinken, I have another observation about Tel Aviv. Apparently, everyone in Tel Aviv thinks I'm Russian. They don't speak to me in Hebrew, or English, just Rusian. I find that really interesting! In the States, everyone thinks I'm Hispanic, and I'm constantly fielding queries posed to me in Spanish. My friend Bracha, who is Russian, would enjoy this latest development. I think I'm going to have to call her to find out how to say: I don't speak Russian in Russian!

So, I backtracked and figured out where Sheinken street really is, as I had walked a lot farther than expected. I was looking West for the street, when in reality it was on my left (East). Sheinken is really cool, and they have some great shops. I found Enter to really hit home and cater to my Mod sensabiities. They even have this great Japanese anime painting that I think would go great in my bedroom. I also liked the store Maly's which had some great cooking gear. Since my apartment has literally nothing in it, I'm going to need to pick up a number of things to stock my kitchen, living room, office and bedroom!

What really excited me though was a Fresh store at 28 Sheinken Street. At first, I thought it was an extension of the Fresh store in New York, where I get everything from my Claret lip gloss to my brown sugar body polish. Sadly, it's just a knockoff of the logo and idea, and doesn't have nearly the same kinds of items I'm used to. I give them an A for effort though!

I walked in and out of so many stores, I can't even recall them all. I saw Orna and Ella's, a cafe right across the street from Enter, and thought about going in but it was super crowded. I kept going and decided it was time to head back to the apartment for a quick bite to eat before I go out tonight.

Observation #2 about Allenby - the street is full of pubs and bars. I walked by Freeland, which is between Sheinken and Magara and apparently has some good live music, Cheer's bar n the corner of Allenby and Magara, Joey's bar, Chaser, Cocoa, Rojer's and Dream Bar. The Dream bar had the funniest sign in the glass window saying that Thursday night was Ladies night, because girls just wanna have fun. Hmmm, does that mean they only play Cyndie Lauper music??

I'm looking forward to stopping by and checking out the local bar/pub scene. If anything it should be great fun.

I'm finally paid up with my landlord here, which is good, that's another big weight off of my shoulders. Other than that, I'm just relaxing and getting ready for school.

Weather report for the day: not nearly as bad as last week. It's hot, but not sweating through your shirt hot.

Song of the afternoon: Let Forever Be by the Chemical Brothers. Cause sometimes you need a little electronica music to get you moving through your day.

Everyone Says I'm a Dreamer

Boston University campus
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

I have this uncanny ability to remember my dreams. Most nights, I have 1-2 dreams, and I wake up remembering 85% of the details. As a writer, I'm very fortunate since these dreams have provided tremendous fodder for my writing.

Last night was no exception.

Already at the end before things have even begun, I dreamt about my graduation from the Masters program. I was dropped off in front of the ivy covered building, which resermbled a building you might find on either the Harvard or Boston Univeristy campuses as opposed to the Jerusalem stone buildings at Bar Ilan University.

I immediately entered the double doors and went up to the Professor in charge, who was handing out the caps, gowns, yearbooks and diplomas encased in the same labyrinthine puzzle box from the Da Vinci Code movie. I accepted these items and moved to one of the seats, where I met a colleague who was also already there.

This is the part of my dreams that always really disturbs me. I am looking at this girl, and in my mind we are clearly friends and I know her well, but when I wake up i realize that I have no idea who she is. This is when I wonder if she was a nameless, random person I passed on the streets of Tel Aviv, or a girl who sold me coffee at the Aroma in Dizingoff, or even some random person who passed me at the Ben Gurion airport. For all I know, she is a face that I spied on the NYC subways months ago that finally wound its way up to my subconscious.

But I digress. As we're getting dressed for the merriment of commencement to commence, I opened the yearbook and tried to figure out this passage from the Gemara (Talmud). For the life of me, I just can't figure out.

Cue Mom stage right. My Mom, who had flown in to Israel with my Father, showed up in her Shabbos finery. I'm still not sure why she was wearing a hat over her sheital, but hey, can't control the details of my dreams. Anyway, Mom came by and together we tried to understand the passage but both failed. So Mom left to go get my Dad, who came over and was about to explain what it meant when he stopped suddenly and turned to look outside the windows.

He paused and then looked at me and said:
Dad: Can't you hear that?
Me: Hear what?
That's when the acoustic strumming of the guitar, with some faint singing, starts to hit my eardrums and begins to get louder and louder.
Dad: Are you going to let him sing that song?
I wait a minute and listen to the words of the song, which are ant-Israel, anti-Israeli government and anti-war.
Me: No way!

Now, I have no idea why I thought I could do anything to stop this guy, but apparently in my dream, I had the power. I marched over to the door and threw it open, took off my shoe (which was Jimmy Choo! Random that I looked down to see the label of my shoe, but I spied it nonetheless) and like a QB throwing in the middle of the most important blitz of the game on Superbowl Sunday, took aim and fired. It hit him mid-lyric and the man immediately stopped singing in Hebrew. He looked at me in shock while cradling the high-heeled shoe (really nice black pumps too, I wonder if I ever had a pair like those in real life) nestled comfortably in the grass knoll in front of the building.

Me: "I will NOT let you turn my graduation into some sort of political forum for your person statement!"

And with that, he stopped singing, and I closed the door and walked away.

That's when I woke up.

Today should be a busy day. I'm hoping to look at TV's for my apartment, and want to walk around Sheinken street while I still live relatively nearby.

Song of the morning: A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley. No particular reason why.

Playlist of life

Megaseg
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Leaving my apartment tonight didn't happen, sad to say. I was still feeling out of it, even after another catnap, and before long it was 10:30 pm and I had missed three phone calls. One of which was from my sister's friend, who I'm planning on spending Rosh Hashana with. It was too late to call her back, but I'm hoping to be in touch with her tomorrow,

So what does one do in Tel Aviv when they don't feel well enough to leave the apartment? I already finished all the books in my arsenal, and didn't really want to hit the Webster's Thesauraus to beef up my synonyms for the short stories I'm working on. There's only so much I can blog about, and I'd already e-mailed back and forth with some of my friends back home.

I called my friend Eli in Jerusalem and we caught up for a while. I had initially planned on going to visit him tomorrow, but he mentioned a party in Tel Aviv on Monday night that he was coming South for. So, we made plans to meet up at the party. Since Monday is my first full day of school, he was right on the mark when he said I would need a drink and to hang out to unwind. It should be fun seeing him, its been almost 7 years!

After hanging up, I decided to spend the night adding a couple more playlists to my Megaseg. For those who aren't familiar, Megaseg is a great software for DJ's who don't use turntables when they spin music but work off of their computer's and uploaded MP3's.

Depending on what my work/school schedule is like, I'm hoping to find a place that will let me spin Indie/Brit pop/alternative tunes one night a week (they would pay me, naturally). In addition to Anglosaxy who likes Brit bands such a Razorlight, I met another local last night who was familiar with Kasabian and seemed interested in my music.

Could Tel Aviv be ready for MisShapes? I don't think it would be too hard to find a venue like Don Hills, but somehow I doubt the crowd would be as colorful.

Bands on the playlist include, but is not limited to: The Killers, Radiohead, Stone Roses, New Order, The Smiths, Ian Brown, Kasabian, My Architects, Stoney, Super Furry Animals, Razorlight, Nightmare of You, Franz Ferdinand, Maximo Park, Kaiser Chiefs, Scissor Sisters, My Bloody Valentine, Kings of Leon, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Phoenix, Apartment, Arctic Monkeys, Tapes n' Tapes, The Von Blondies, The Charlatans, The Libertines, Raveonettes, Kill Hannah, The Kills, LEVY, Office, Spoon, Bloc Party, The Raconteurs, The Greenhornes, Primal Scream, The Doves, We are Scientists, Blondie, Interpol, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, etc.

Recently, Jules and I were chatting about the playlists of our life. Meaning, if our lives were turned into some blockbuster movie, what songs would be on the playlist.

I'm still thinking of that one, although I know that I would have Zeke compose something great for either the opening credits (Jules pointed out a make-out/love scene, because his music is perfect for those kind of moments or so I've heard) or a really touching moment within the movie.

For all those reading tonight, what would be the song in the opening credits of the movie of your life?

In the meantime, I'm hoping to have a great playlist uploaded on my Megaseg in time for a housewarming party. Chances are I'll schedule it to take place when Hannah and Liora are in town in October. That should be a lot of fun.

Assaf just got on IM in NYC, so I'm off to catch up with him.

Song of the early morning: Hey Now Now by Cloud Room.

Suds, Sacrifices and Sickness

DSCN1226
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Tonight, I watched sunset from the slats of my bedroom window, curled in a fetal position, where I had been for the past 15 hours. More on why later.

Observation: The sky over Tel Aviv, at sunset, turned a milky white as if preparing to weep snow. Being Israel, I half expected a miracle to occur and snow to blanket the area. As the time ticked on, the sky turned from milky white, to ashy grey, to darker grey tinged with army green. The image of Kansas during a pending tornado came to mind and I braced for G-d's wrath to come roaring down Allenby street in an ominous, billowing funnel aimed at taking out the stripclub at the corner. When nothing happened, I closed my eyes and simply rolled onto my back and waited for the ink to spill and for the sky to be completely covered in darkness. And only when all that was left were the purple rays of the fluorescent light from the hotel across the street shining through the slats, painting prison stripes on my cocooned figure wrapped tightly in my blanket, did I finally get up and say Hamavdil.

My second Shabbos in Tel Aviv is over.

The internet was down on Friday so I wasn't able to blog about my day. I started off by spending 2 1/2 hours at the laundromat up the block from my apartment (see photo for visualization). Another scorcher, and the only other customer was a 30ish man with a surfers built. He didn't speak Hebrew or English, and so we communicated comically using sign language. He signed for me to get my bag off of his machine so he could load the dryer, and I mimed for him to remove his sneakers from the second dryer so I could load my wash. He was finished before all my stuff even got into the dryer, and I was left to babysit my clothing in the airconditionless kiosk. I think I lost at least 2 pints of water while waiting for my laundry to be done.

As soon as I got everything back to my apartment, I hit the road again to take care of some very important business. I joined the gym on Ben Yehuda street. I walked back up there, sweating but not as much as I had been during the past few days, and met with Golan. Eran, who I had met with earlier in the week, was off. Golan spoke English and used to live in Los Angeles, where he worked out with the "stars", and I listened politely as he name-dropped. After signing up, and dealing with American Express to ensure that the large downpayment was in fact from me as opposed to someone who could have potentially stolen my card, Golan took me down to the training room floor to set up an appointment. At Pure, they offer you a free personal training session to set up a training routine. Now, I'm hoping to sign up with some one-on-one weekly training, as my experiences with Victoria the past four years have really paid off, but for now this will do. I met with Yehuda, who struggled to explain what exactly would happen during our meeting next week. Before we can begin, however, I have to have a "physical" with the gym's Dr., to make sure that I'm healthy enough to work out. That should be interesting. I think he's only going to take my pulse and listen to me breathe, but if he looks anything like Yehuda, I'll be fine with anything else he wants to do too (haha, sorry Dad!!!!).

I headed back down to my apartment to grab a quick catnap before meeting Jeff at shul. Since I knew the Friday night disco will be loud, and chances are I wouldn't be sleeping much, I was hoping the nap would help.

And of course I overslept. And, instead of getting up and hitting the shower to get ready before Shabbos started, I called the States to talk to my parents, and my Grandmother, and the Dude. I miss The Dude a lot, so I spoke to him longer then I should have, and that left me with very little time to get ready and walk back up to shul.

Which leads me to the state of my appearance when I got to shul. I have never sweated this much in my entire life. Not when I worked out with Victoria, not when I took boxing with Craig and Tony, not even when I walked the 35+ blocks from my office to my apartment during the 2003 NYC Blackout. Never. I looked like a drowned dog, bangs matted to my forehead, eyebrows tearing sweat droplets that were precariously close to stinging my eyes. Whoever said women "glow" instead of sweated never, ever, lived in Tel Aviv.

But even with all the sweating, someone still came over and introduced herself to me. We didn't get to chat very long, but it was really sweet of her to move across the room, open the chair next to mine, and say hello. At that very moment, it was really appreciated.

Of course, the walking wasn't done, as we headed towards our meal. I felt like a rat in a maze, following the guys blindly and trying desperately to get my barings (bearings sp?). The meal itself was really lovely. And, at this point, I am going to leave it at that. I'm making a conscious effort not to write about the people I meet who I am hoping to interact with on a day-to-day basis, and leave the blog to chronicle some of the other people/places/things I meet/see/do. That, and because I told Jef that I blog, and I don't need him reading about himself on these pages.

So, for all of my friends/family members, expect a detailed e-mail about Friday night.

What I will say about the meal, besides the fact that it was really lovely, is that I had a glass of wine with dinner. And that is why I spent the past 15 hours in bed. Between being allergic to wine (red wine sends me praying to the porcelin god, while white wine makes me nauseous and hurting with a migraine) and the fact that I was severly dehydrated when I got home, I spent the day sleeping fitfully, trying to drink water, and reading. Now, as my Father is reading this, I know he is shaking his head and wondering why I even had the wine to begin with. I thought about that this afternoon. Now, I passed when they offered me a sip from Kiddush, but then I spied my reflection in the bathroom mirror while going to wash for Hamotzei, and I knew if I didn't have a glass of wine to relax me I would have been self-conscious about my appearance all meal. I'm pretty self confident in general, but even I have my limits.

So anyway, it worked and I had a great time at dinner. In retrospect, the past 15 hours of pain were worth it. I'm just going to make sure I don't make it a habit.

Since I've arrived I've started and finished two books, one that was required reading for school, and the other that was a recommendation from a friend. I started Runaway by Alice Munro right before sunset this afternoon, and it's turning out ok.

So that, in a nutshell, was a brief look into the past 48 hours. I'm going to hit the showers and take some Advil before meeting Ari.

Shavuah Tov!

Don't Fear the Reaper

Grim Reapers
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

In the States, I was the girl who loved dating lawyers. I have a lot of friends and relatives who happen to be lawyers, we get on very well, so dating lawyers was no big deal for me. Don't get me wrong, I love a good chuckle over a lawyer joke just like the next gal, but I've never held this intense hatred for the species as many other people do. In fact, my own lawyer is making Aliyah with his family in a few weeks, and I can't wait to have him here! At the very least, he's someone I can turn to for troubleshooting.

So when I moved to Israel, I held lawyers in high regard and had warm and fuzzy feelings for the breed.

That was before I spoke with my landlords' lawyer about our lease agreement.

He was so considerate, called me bright and early this morning to wake me up.

Only to tell me that he can't rent me the apartment because I have no Israeli guarantors.

Motherf@*&*r!!

Israeli lawyers are seriously grim reapers. And they don't even try to hide it!! What's worst is the tone they use when they basically break the bad news. It was the same tone I would use to tell a fat person that dessert is served. Super sweet in delivery, but laced with a warning that partaking in dessert isn't necessarily the best thing you want to do when you have a few pounds to lose. Cause lord knows, I don't need someone having a heart attack at my kitchen table.

So we're in a clusterf**k. I have two options. Obtain a guarantee from the bank or provide 2 Israeli based guarantors. OK, I have no family or close enough friends in Israel to turn to, so where does that leave me? Hmmm, should I ask the guy I went on a date with this week to be my guarantor? I can just see how that conversation would go:

Him: It was really nice meeting you, I had a good time on our date. Would you be up for second date and a movie, perhaps?
Me: Sure, movie sounds great. You know what, it's my treat! Oh, and would you mind being my guarantor for $12,000 too? Don't worry, I'm good for the money, I'll even throw in dinner after the movie!

Hell, that's one way to get an Israeli paramour sprinting for the North! The line that used to get men running for the hills was, I want to marry you but no more. The aforementioned example takes the cake.

I know, what about approaching my bank for that guarantee? I mean, the bank won't even give me CHECKS for the next three months, so I can take out the money I've already deposited into my account, but I'm sure they would be happy to go out on a limb for me for $12,000 a year.

For a significant fee. But of course.

Welcome to my latest hurdle in Israel. Its been exactly one week since I've landed. There is no way in hell I'm letting this apartment get away, I just ordered an amazing bed! Oh no, this situation is going to be rectified if it's the last thing I do.

Song of the day: Don't Fear the Reapers remix by Caesars.

Bring it on lawyers!

Kasabian Empire

Brand new Kasabian single, from their new album. Jury is out on this one until I listen to the entire record. Comment if you like it!

Conversations with Other Women

Conversations with Other Women
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Did you know that, on the breasts of female mannequins in Israel, the nipples are all erect? Not sure about the male mannequins but I nearly spit my Diet Nestea all over myself when I noticed the occurances of nippilitis in Tel Aviv. It made me want to bring all the mannequins a blanket.

Following my experience this morning, I decided I needed to burn off some energy and was about to walk up to my new gym, when I noticed a big sign on my front door. My landlord needed to "see me". Man, it felt like I was back at my old job and my boss was going to give me a tongue lashing for not getting the better hit/keeping the client happy/upsetting on of my underlings. I locked up and went down to their office, where I encountered both of my landlords. After helping them translate some things from Hebrew into English and vice versa (i.e. Maid Service, Aunt, Uncle and cousins) they informed me that my check didn't clear. Since they insisted I make it out in Hebrew, eventhough it's from an English bank, I was not surprised. But they still needed to be paid. In cash. ASAP. I didn't come to Israel with that much cash, and I had no idea I had to paid in bills otherwise I would have been better prepared, so I was kinda SOL (sh*t outta luck) and about to call in for reinforcements to wire them some cash, when they told me about the ATM machine that gives dollars.

For all those living in Tel Aviv who have American bank accounts, the Bank Leumi ATM machine on Ben Yehuda gives dollars. Don't get stressed out that the bills looked different then when you are at home. It's still good.

Well, I had to run to the ATM, take out the cash, and then run back since they both don't work tomorrow and were getting ready to leave for the night. That helped me burn off all that excess energy, but I wanted to walk back up to the gym and sign up nonetheless. That's when my cell phone rang and my friend Ilana from NYC was on the other line. She's in town for a wedding and we caught up a bit, it was really nice to hear her voice. I don't think I'll be able to hang with her though, she's in town for such a short period of time. We'll see what Sunday brings.

As we were chatting, I found myself heading back to the Dizengoff mall. I am running low on toilet paper and could stock up on groceries for the weekend, before the mad crush of people off from work hit the malls tomorrow. I've learned that lesson from last week, and hope to always avoid the malls on Fridays. But, I did a quick lap and realized that the new flick Conversations with Other Women was playing at 5:00 p.m. It was 5:05 and so I decided to cool off and see the movie at the same time. It was a good call. The flick was great and, since I loved Aaron Eckhart in Thank you for Smoking, I knew I wouldn't be disappointed. Unfortunately, the movie was too short for my taste, and the next thing I knew the theatre doors were opening and spitting me back out into the humid air.

After picking up provisions at both Super Center and Tuv Taam, I headed back to my place. Before grabbing a bite to eat, I decided to stop into Tower records to check out the selection. Gal had mentioned the band Selfish Gene, so I decided to pick up their album. Big mistake. It's crap. Gal's musical taste is not that impressive. Anyway, I'm hoping to offload the CD when I meet up with Ari on Saturday night. I'll just tell him it's a present. If he hates it, I'll admit that I thought it was crap too. If he loves it, I'll know never to invite him to a concert.

Speaking of which, I looked into the bar that Squid is playing on Sunday night, and it's called The Minerva. When I asked Lior at Tower records about it, he told me it was the #1 lesbian bar in Tel Aviv. But he goes there frequently. Because they have great live music, not because the girls ignore him.

Hmmm, I wonder if I neglect to tell Jeff that it's a gay club if he'll be more or less inclined to join me.

Tomorrow is an easy day:
1) Pick up a bottle of Ketel One for my meal on Friday night (more about that after the weekend)

2) Do laundry (down to 2 clean pairs of underwear, so this is a must)

3) Hit the beach. I'd like some more color before school starts on Monday

Scrambled eggs

Breakfast
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

It's 3:00 pm and I just walked back into my apartment after an interesting morning running around Tel Aviv. But, at least I started my day on a really good note, because I cooked my first meal in country. As the photo proves, I can now make eggs! It was pretty simple and cooked up in no time. Always good to start a busy day with a good breakfast.

I then decided to go to the post office to check about health insurance. The way it works here is that you have to go to the post office to obtain the forms for the company you want to join, and once you have the forms only then can you apply in person at the right insurance company. However, when they put my name in the computer, I didn't show up and they said I had to go to the Bituach Leumi, which is the National Insurance Agency in Israel. My polite cab driver told me that, as far at Israel agencies are concerned, they are the worst. Plus, we didn't know the hours, so there was an off chance that they would be closed,

He waited for me in front of the entrance and, sure enough, they were closed. Only, I had missed getting in by 9 minutes!!!! That was really, really annoying. I got back into my waiting cab and decided to hit Herzl street to check out furniture stores. I went into a few stores, and measured and price checked on a few different items, specifically couches and tables. When it came time to check out a bed, I walked into one store and had a really good conversation with the owner. He named me a price that was pretty reasonable, but there was something a bit off about him. I can't explain what it was, but I just didn't have such a good feeling about everything. I wasn't looking to haggle with him though, I just wanted to get out of there, and so I told him I had to check in with the contractor and would let him know. In the meantime, I walked out and went into a few other stores, still feeling slightly uneasy.

That led me to another furniture store where I met Avi, the owner, whose selection and qaulity was heads and tails above the previous stores. We chatted for a while and I ended up buying a bed! It's really nice, in Vengar (color very close to a dark wood) and sized to fit my room. I ended up only getting one nighttable, because I'm not sure if I want my bed in the center of the room of flush against one wall. As I was leaving the store, however, the owner of the previous store was standing outside looking at me. It was a little freaky, he started to follow me from across the street, and then I ducked into another store and waited for him to return to his place of business. A little unsettled, Israeli store owners are soo passionate, I hopped a cab and headed back to my apartment.

That's when I met my religious cab driver, who decided to quiz my Yeshiva education. Sad to say, I completely failed. My parents are now shaking their heads in disgust over all the money they poured into my yeshiva education. He asked me what were the six brachot (blessings) you ONLY say six times a year. I honestly had no clue. The answers were: candles for Yom Kippur, Checking for Chametz before Pesach, the blessings over Matzah, Marror and redemptions and finally, blessing over the Elanot (the new buds of spring). The last one really just relates to Israel.

I tried to get out of the whole candle lighting one by falling back on my single status, and the fact that I've never lit Yom Kippur candles in my life (I've pretty much always been home for Yom Kippur and that's my Mother's department). Who knew that would be opening Pandora's Box. My Nahag (driver) was SHOCKED that I was still single.

And at 29!

Q: Why aren't you married?
A: You know, that's a question I've NEVER ever thought about or considered. It's a good one though. Let me mull it over and I'll let you know.

Silence.

Sarcasm, clearly, lost on this Israeli.

One week in Israel and here comes the lecture. Part of me wanted to tell him that I already have parents AND a Grandmother who handle the whole "when are you getting married" conversation, but I just had no energy to argue. So I listened to him drone on and on about the importance of marriage. And when he said to me: you know, you're not 17 anymore, I actually didn't respond. Just kept looking out the window and listened to his tirade.

So how did I get the conversation to stop?

You'll never guess.

Try.

I'll save you the energy. I agreed to go out with a friend of his. Because, as he so poignantly pointed out, you never know where it's going to come from. Or how you're going to meet your soulmate. Or who will be the one to set you up with your soulmate.

I'm hoping that Itzik (I think that's his name) who's 32, drives a cab, doesn't speak a word of English, lives in Bat Yam, and only wants to marry a "religious girl", knows what he's in for when he gives me a call.

At the very least, the experience will be something for me to write about.

I'm off to grab a bite to eat and make plans for tonight. I think it's time to go to the movies. Thank you for Smoking is playing across the street and I already saw it, but could definitely go for seeing it again.

The Squid and the Bank

Squid
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

I'm going to make every person frustrated with the Israeli government really jealous right now. I left my apartment at 10:30 this morning and it's now 2:30 p.m., I've been home for the past 15 minutes, and have already gotten my Teudat Zehut and opened a bank account. For the people who said that you could ONLY do one big thing in Israel a day, clearly they never met me.

I didn't sleep again last night and so I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. Jeff had mentioned that I should get to the Misrad Hapnim about an hour before it opened, and that just wasn't going to happen. Resound to the fact that I might have to spent all day there, I didn't schedule anything else for the day, and figured I would just wait my turn. By the time my cab pulled up in front of the building though, I realized that I had left both my book AND my iPod at home. That sucked. It's one thing to have to wait a long time, it's quite another to wait a long time and not have anything to do.

I waited on the first line to get my number and form to fill out before heading inside to the larger waiting area for my number to be called. My number was #164. The number they were serving when I walked in #98. Now that's priceless. I sat down with my form and pen and tried to fill it out as best as I could, given my not-as-great-as-I-had-hoped knowledge of Hebrew. Fortunately, enter Gal Ziv into the picture. I feel bad for him, he had no idea what he was getting into when he sat down next to me (or, come to think of it, did I sit next to him?).

Nevertheless, Gal was awesome and really helpful when it came to translating the paperwork. And then, we got to chatting, and Gal told me about this great band that I should check out called Squid. In fact, while we were on the phone, Gal called the lead singer of the band (Nir Geva) to get his Myspace page address. When I got back to my apartment, I went to the page, and the background photo is really cool. I love the drum sinking in the sea, it's such a classic rock image. The music isn't that bad too, and according to the site, the band is playing at Minerva on Sunday night (August 27th). It looks like they go on at 11:00 p.m., and since my first day of classes will be on Monday, I might not be able to go. That being said, the music was pretty good, so I'm going to try to make it. Hey, I'm not sleeping anyway, right?

Back to Gal, who as it turns out, works in film. In fact, his last short RomanticA was accepted into one of New York's downtown film festivals. According to one website, Gal Ziv was born in Israel; after he finished the Army, he went to study film in The U.S at the Los Angeles City College, USA, than transferred to Carl State University at Northridge. In 1999, he was the Director of photography of two short features: “Final Chapther 2K” and “Saram Saram”. In 1999 He then visited his country again to make his own short feature – “The Adventures of Lasal Laslangdin”. At the end of 1999, he came back to Los Angeles to finish his Degree in Cinema production.He recently finished his second short feature “RomanticA”. He lives in Israel, working in a Post Production company and continues to write and direct. So naturally, talking with Gal was pretty interesting, and since his number was 148 we chatted for almost an hour. Between Gal and Uri, I now have my entree into Israel's film community which will hopefully provide me with a lot more fodder for my own work.

By the time my number was called, I was prepared to fight the system. Fortunately, the system didn't require a war. Except for one little issue. They don't have proof I'm a Jew, because I don't have proof that my Mother is a Jew. OK, that was information no one told me I needed to have on me. Lucky for me, you can still get a Teudat Zehut without that information. All I have to do is bring them a letter from my parents Rabbi, along with a copy of my parents marriage certificate, and they will stamp my ID card with the appropriate information (i.e. that I am, in fact, a yid). The best part of the whole process is that they actually do the ID cards right then and there. And, since I brought 12 passport sized photos with me to Israel (I know, smart thinking!!), I was all set. I walked out of the building less than 2 1/2 hours since getting there, and quickly hopped a cab back towards my neck of the woods.

Meet David Magir, the nicest cab driver in all of Israel who doesn't speak a word of English. He taught me two important words:
1) Pekak - which is sortof like slang but literally means "cork of a wine bottle". They use that term to refer to traffic. As in, everything is shut in tightly because of the Pekak and we won't be moving until the lights change. It's not necessarily a word used with a patient voice.

2) Seforet Bidyoni - Creative Writer - someone who writes stories that come from my head. How cool is that? Now I know how to tell people what I'm doing here!

3) Noam - is not a name just for a boy, but can also be the name for a girl, as the case with David's granddaughter

So, David dropped me off at the Bank in my neighborhood (name of bank will NOT be disclosed in my blog because I am not a dumbass). The Bank was long, and as I was warned, full of vampires. Seriously, they charge you for everything! It's no wonder that more Israelis don't stuff their mattresses.

Here's a basic rundown:
1) To deposit an American check, it will cost $50 and take 1 month to clear. No matter the size of the American check

2) To deposit a travelers check, no matter the cost, is 65.35 shekel

3) There is a 10 shekel maintance fee, each month, on the account

4) There is a 1.20 shekel transaction fee for anything I do, whether it's writing a check or withdrawing money

There's more to the fees, but since they bled me dry at the bank, I have no more energy to include that information in this blog. The only "good" thing is that, once I get my student ID card, I will get some perks when I change my status, and I got a nifty little messenger bag and pens.

I felt pretty proud of my accomplishments today, which were suprisingly haggle free, and so I walked back to my apartment to burn off some excess energy. It's a gorgeous day outside, with the sun shinning and the breeze coming off of the water in steady waves. I think I'm going to treat myself and hit the beach for the first time since getting to Israel. And since some guy called me "whitey" two days ago, I think it's time I really work on my tan.

Tonight it's sushi dinner with Oren and one of his friends. I'm looking forward to seeing what Israeli sushi is like.

Song of the day: Morning Blues by Squid. The vocals are really great on this track.

Fireworks on the Beach

Fireworks on the Beach
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Tonight I had my first date in Israel. And I saw fireworks. Literally, we went to the beach in Tel Aviv where they have these bars/restaurants on the sand, and a few miles south of us in Old Yaffo there was this magnificent fireworks display. It was stunning. Oh, and the guy I went out with was a lot of fun too. Of course, turns out we went to camp together. Yup, having attended four sleepaway camps during my adolescent/pre-teen and teen years, this was bound to happen. We both spent Aidah Daled at Camp Moshava. Only, we both don't remember each other. It was pretty funny.

Today was a tough day, especially since the weather is really hot. I had to go to my apartment to meet with the contractor again, and together we had to call Bezeq about installing a phone line for my internet. Since the apartment has no AC, and is literally a 30 minute walk from the apartment I'm staying in now, I was losing water weight in buckets. The contractor had this great water from his home, he has a really powerful filtration system that made the water taste really clean and fresh. He offered to install one in my new apartment, for a significant fee of course, and I'm considering having him go ahead and do it. The water here is so bad, and I'm a big water drinker, that it will be worth the money I'd save on buying bottled water.

After working everything out with Bezeq, two hours later mind you and svitching all the way, I walked back down to my apartment and stopped at a few banks along the way. They all said the same thing: no bank account without a Teudat Zehut (Israel ID card), so that means tomorrow I will be spending all day at the Misrad Hapnim. I hear it will take me ALL day because the lines are out of control. But, since school starts on Monday, I have no choice but to take care of this tomorrow.

I grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading over to the #64 bus on Ben Yehudah Street. The stop is in front of the big El Al building but the bus comes only every half an hour. Final destination: Bar Ilan University, where I was to meet two new students in the program for a quick campus tour. So, it looks like I'm living really far away from school. Like, living in Queens and going to school in New Jersey far. The bus ride took almost an hour each way, and it wasn't door-to-door service. The campus, meanwhile, is really nice and I was actually looking forward to school starting on Monday. We spent two hours there before I hopped the #64 bus back to Tel Aviv. Thank g-d for my iPod, otherwise I would have gone crazy on the bus. That was one worthwhile investment.

Which leads us back to the date, which was very nice. In fact, when I got back to my apartment at Midnight, I realized that the time I spent with him was the first time since I got here when I actually feel well. It was amazing to not feel nauseous, and now I wonder if perhaps my not feeling well is a little psychosomatic. I've been pretty relaxed since I left, letting most things just slide and taking each task one day at a time, or so I thought. My head just didn't tell that to my stomach, which hasn't been dealing with the anxiety. That being said, I know that once I get settled and into a routine, things will be a lot better. For now, I'm just going to try to get together with as many people as possible, so that I'm not as lonely.

Tomorrow night it's dinner with Oren and one of his friends. His treat. Should be a lot of fun!

Layla Tov!

Mayor Mike's Revenge

Mayor Mike Bloomberg
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Early this morning, somewhere in Mayor Mike's brownstone on 65th Street, he's counting his money in his silk boxers and laughing his ass at me. Big, screaming, howls of laughter. Choking on your tears, huge belly laughs. Need a drink to stop the pain from the all the laughing.

You get the picture.

And why is Bloomberg laughing at me? Why has he suddenly exacted his revenge? Because when he put a smoking ban in clubs and bars in Manhattan, I complained bitterly. V ociferously. To anyone who would listen. I screamed it was "unAmerican" to not be able to smoke while drinking at a bar. I signed petitions! I joined a Craigslist chain of like-minded people who felt my basic freedoms were taken away. I was not pleased.

And now, g-d what I wouldn't do for Mayor Mike to move to Tel Aviv and impose a cigarette ban? The streets of Tel Aviv has made me feel like Pig-Pen. I walk from cloud to cloud of tobacco and close my eyes, knowingf that by the time I get back to my apartment I'll stink like I smoked three packs in 30 minutes.

Mayor Mike is gleeful because he knows that my upstairs neighbor smokes while on the toilet, which is why my bathroom stinks like I've been smoking on my toilet. And, unless you're a Supermodel I once worked with (who will also remain nameless), my upstairs neighbor can smoke on his Mirpeset (balcony) like everyone else upstairs. He certainly isn't a Supermodel!

Karma, it's a bitch. Screw Carson Daily.

Song of the day: Smoke it by the Dandy Warhols. Cause no one can say that I don't have a sense of humor.

PS. This will be my last complaining post about smoking in Israel.

Nuts and ropes

Nuts and ropes
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

Sometimes you feel like a nut and sometimes, as evidenced by this photo, you really don't. I was starving this afternoon and was, once again, walking around the Dizengoff Mall and so I popped into Super Center to pick up some provisions. Since my eating is still really off, I decided that nuts were a pretty safe item, and picked up a bag of roasted peanuts and cashews. When I got back to my apartment, I opened the bag and pulled out this WAD of rope! If this was America, and that rope was a thumb, man would I be rich.

So today was my first really challenging day here in Tel Aviv. I dragged my exhausted body out of bed and walked back up to my soon-to-be-hood to open up a bank account. After following signs for English, I ended up sitting in the office of a gentleman who deals with International investments. Not the department I want. But he was more than happy to chat and then he sent me downstairs to the right floor. Or so I thought. My helper was some 20 year old Russian/Israeli whose English was horrible and who didn't even ask me the right questions. After filling out forms for 45 minutes, the bank manager told her she couldn't open up a foreign bank account if I was living in Israel. And, since I'm a citizen and will be living in Israel as a student for the next two years, I need to pack my stuff and head down to the Misrad Hapanim (Ministry of Interior) to get a Teudat Zehut (Israeli identity card). So, I thanked her profusely and headed out and over to some "familiar" ground. I have no idea if she told me the right thing, but I will do as directed and hope it enables me to open up an account.

Slightly frustrated, I decided it was time for a friendly face and so I stopped by to see Yoni at Psycho Tattoo at the Dizengoff Center Mall. Yoni was in the middle of a tattoo so I spent some time interviewing another artist for my story, which is coming together nicely. I just need to get it down on paper before class starts next week. Chances are, that won't happen unless I get my act together soon. Yoni came out to get me and brought me back to the room so I could observe him in action. It was really fascinating, the girl was getting the inside of her arm done (i.e. tattoo lingo is sleeve). Apparently, the entire sleeve has taken over 2 years to complete, as Yoni only comes back to Israel every 6-8 months. The colors he used were absolutely blindingly bright and vivid, it looked really nice on her. (Disclaimer: during the course of the day, I did NOT get a tattoo. So Mom, you can relax a bit). Yoni helped me with my cell phone and then I left him to start on another client.

I'm finally able to get into my VM too. I went back to the store where I bought the RAZR and David told me how to access the inbox. I was able to retrieve the five messages, one of which was left by my former client Oren. I represented Oren and his company, Oblicore (now defunct) from 2000-2001 and we had a really nice working relationship. When I got here, I sent him an e-mail and we've been in contact ever since. We're hoping to go out for some sushi either Wednesday or Thursday night, before he heads out East to the Canadian Rockies.

Which brings me back to my apartment and my meeting with Guy, the Yes Man about my VOIP and TV stations. It's essential, for work reasons, that I have my computer working when I move into my new apartment. So, Elon decided we needed to get this process started earlier rather than later, and hence the meeting with Guy. He first stopped by the apartment to meet with Elon about locations and wiring, and then he came down to my apartment to go over the contract and the services. Guy was great, and he used to live in Manhattan, so we had a lot to chat about. I gave him a bit of a hard time when he glossed over the adult packages (hey, just because I'm a woman, doesn't mean you should bring up the porn option with me!). He thought I was hysterical and went on and on about women and porn, which was a great conversation to laugh about. I really needed the laughing, it helped put the frustration of my day in persepctive.

I was too hot and tired to workout tonight, especially after all the walking I did this afternoon, so I'm staying in.

Plans for tomorrow include:
1) Going back to my apartment to meet with Elon and discuss where he's going to put the TV's
2) Meeting Y at Bar Ilan at 4:30 pm for the campus tour. Apparently another guy from the program is going to be there too (and he is bringing his Mother. No comment).
3) Dinner date. (Maybe more on this tomorrow)
4) Laundry (I found the Tide detergent and the dryer sheets, so I think it's time to try my hand at laundry in country. This should be an interesting experience.

PS. Props go out to the great salesman at Spa Siam who sold me this great lemon/grapefruit spreader of essence with tatton sticks from Thailand. My apartment is starting to smell much, much better.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

One Beacon Court
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

I stink. Really badly. I just got back from a run/walk on the Tayelet and I'm hoping my stench will somehow mask the unbearable scent that has permeated every fiber of this apartment. Apparently, the gentelman who lived in this apartment before I moved in, was a chain smoker. He moved out, but his tobacco scent still lingers. Ah, to quote the Cranberries, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?.

Today was hot. Damn hot. Hot to the point that I sweated clear through my favorite Jcrew Fisher Island t-shirt. It didn't help that I walked from South Tel Aviv all the way up to North Tel Aviv in record breaking time. Still not sleeping, so I was behind the eight ball when I finally got out of bed this morning. I was meeting my new landlord/contractor at the apartment I am going to be renting for what will hopefully be the next two years.

And the place looks like something Ty Pennington (that's his name right, I never watched the show so I could be mixing him up with Jets QB Chad Pennington) could really sink his teeth into. For the lucky few would got to see the pics of the pad, you're probably thinking I should start looking for a new place since there is no way this apartment will be ready by September 6th.

But they didn't meet Elon, Superman contractor who is larger than life. Literally. The man makes Patrick Ewing look like a miget. And, together with Chi, his Asian assistant, they are going to make sure the place is perfect by the time I need to move in. I got really excited walking around the apartment, and it brought me back to last summer, when I represented Shane Reilly and her 30 day complete apartment makeover at One Beacon Court. Yup, the Bloomberg building that houses celebs like Beyonce' was the stage for her masterful work. And her client was just as celebritied as Beyonce', but for confidentiality reasons, I cannot disclose his/her identity. Nonetheless, I looked around the place and saw infinite potential.

Plus, I'm a sucker for a great bathroom. As those who know my apartment from back on the Upper West Side, they know that I took the tiny space because of the spacious bathroom. As a woman, let's be frank here, the bathroom is the most important room of the house. Whoever said it was the kitchen is freakin lying to you.

After chatting it up with Elon, I left him and Chi to get back to work and walked back down Ben Yehudah street to get to know my neighborhood. I discovered that the shul is across the street from a big Supersol, which is right next door to a gym.

I couldn't resist and have to go in to check out Pure. If I just walked around the gym, I would be getting a workout. The place is so far below surface level, it could have been used as a bomb shelter. I took a self-guided tour (apparently in Israel, they don't believe in personalized tours. They don't really care if you sign up or not, they know you will anyway so no need to sell you) and ended up in the office of Eran. He made me say "Manhattan" five times to revel in my Anglo-accent and then he got down to business. The business of trying to swamp apartments, of course. Eran was pissed that I gave up my pad on the 74th and Columbus, when I could have swaped with him for a few weeks instead. After apologizing profusely for my gross oversight, we chatted about the facilities, the classes and the trainers.

Here is when I talk about how much I miss my old trainer, Victoria. We worked out together at NYSC for almost 4 years, 2 of which were half-assed, the other two were hard-core. Victoria was perfect, she knew when to kick my ass and when to ease up on the workout. Plus, we both liked the same books, and she was always great when it come to dispensing dating advice. So, I asked Eran to introduce me to a good female trainer, and he demured. Apparently, the female trainers aren't that good, so he wants to introduce me to a great male trainer who also teaches the kickboxing class.

Given my graveyard of male trainers past: i.e. Tony, David, and Matt from the NYSC, this will be an interesting Shidduch. Let's see what transpires.

Former client Oren just called to invite me out to dinner, but given the late hour and my showerless state, I declined. I'm hoping to get together with him later on this week, before he heads out of country on vacation.

Tomorrow is supposed to be another scorcher. And now, I'm jut feeling Dirrty, so it's time to hit the showers.

Till tomorrow!

Shabbos was the bomb

Israeli bomb squad
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

In the war against jet lag, I am losing. Big time. After I lit candles yesterday, I got dressed and decided to go for a walk along the Tayelet (boardwalk). It was wonderful, while the breeze coming off of the water wrecked havoc on my hair and I bemoaned the fact that I spent the past hour under a hot iron and straightener. I walked up North until I hit the steps leading up towards the Carlton hotel, just before the marina. It took about an hour, there and back, and by the time I got into my apartment I was pretty tired. I quickly grabbed a bite to eat and went to bed, hoping that I would sleep straight from 9:00 pm until morning.

The sirens and thumping of disco music woke me up at 11:30 p.m. and I could feel my walls shaking to the beat of the music. With my eyes closed, I could practically see the flashing lights of the strobes and club sirens and I imagined the gyrating bodies glowing florescent in the black light. Sounds like downtown Tel Aviv was partying last night. Cars and vans kept driving past my windown and the music all had a similar theme - - hard core club mix. I half expected people to be dancing right outside my window, but merely spied lots of drunk folks dressed in their clubbing finest. I was taking this all in stride, until someone drove by and parked outside my window, listening to the BACKSTREET BOYS at louder than legal volumes! Clearly, Backstreet is back in Israel. I mean, if you're gonna wake me up with loud music, at least have the courtesy to play something that doesn't suck.

And now I was up. Wide. Awake. Had it been Saturday night, instead of Friday night, I would have put on a pair of jeans and gone out with the crowd. But, alas, I don't club on Shabbos and so I read my book by the light of the bathroom and thought about the answers to Slightly Mad's recent tag (which I'll address at the end of this post).

Six hours later, I was finally asleep (if you're keeping track, that means I didn't get back to sleep before 5:30 a.m.) And didn't wake up until 2:30 in the afternoon!

(Side note, but I'm watching some show on Channel Two right now and it's literally the Israeli Kevin Federline on TV! I hope to g-d he doesn't drop trau and start rapping).

I had plans for today that didn't quite happen, since I slept most of it away. Shul was obviously over and I looked, and felt, like a boxer who took one too many right hooks over night.

Yup. Two black eyes.

I checked on my water supply and, since I was down to less than half a bottle. decided to just spend the day resting and reading in bed. I was halfway into my new book, The Bitch in The House when I heard the commotion outside. Someone was yelling in Hebrew on a bullhorn and, in my sleepy haze, I didn't bother trying to decipher the words. From the tone, it sounded like an angry ice cream truckdriver barking out his wares, but minus the jingly music that brings the kids running back in the States. Once the sirens went off though, I decided it was time to take a look outside my window.

Less than 48 hours in country, and welcome to my first Chefetz Chashood (unknown object that could possibly be a bomb). And just my luck, the package was right on the corner.

I decided it was time to put on my bra. And some deoderant. And my contact lenses.

Semi-clothed, I yanked up the blinds and took in the scene. Israel's "bomb squad" consisted on ONE man. He was wearing a heavy flack jacket and a green motorcycle helmet with the visor pulled down. He was walking back and forth between the object and the truck, pulling on two long, white strings, and alternating between pushing up and down his clear visor. So interesting to watch him.

Meanwhile, three police cruisers had sectioned off the intersecting blocks (I'm on a pretty busy corner close to the beach, with 10 small hotels within the immediate vicinity, and loads of foot traffic on a Shabbos afternoon in the summer). It was rough taking in the entire scene and, had it not been Shabbos, I would have taken some photos. But I was captivated by Mr. bomb squad and the fact that the people who had to wait for him to blow up the package, were looking...PISSED!

Seriously, these folks did not want to wait for anything! They were arguing with the police officers who told them they couldn't continue walking to their destinations. When one officer's back was turned, three people who quickly sneak around him/her and walk towards the beach. Their facial expressions reminded me of the New York City subways, during rush hour, when there's a sick passenger on board. It's the cross between concern, inconvenience and hard core annoyance. You're concerned for the passenger because you'd be a really lousy person, with no heart, if you didn't feel bad for someone who got sick, inconvenience because it means that you'll be late for work, and really annoyed that it should happen while YOU were on that train.

And then the people started to turn around and run backwards. I'm not sure what Mr. bomb squad said to get people scared, but that's when I decided to drain the last of my water. If the place was going to go up, I was going to at least be well hydrated.

The end of this story is that, thankfully, it turned out to be a package of towels and no bomb. And Mr. bomb squad threw the contents of the package into the back of his truck, stripped down to his pants and sweated-through t-shirt, and then drove away.

Talk about adrenaline rush. My heart had been beating in my stomach the entire time and I with all this energy to burn all I wanted to do was change into my gym gear and go hit the bag for a while. But, there were still four more hours to Shabbos and I left my boxing gloves at home (I can't wait till the rents come with them in Oct., I could really use a good workout).

The rest of Shabbos was relaxing and uneventful. I'm thinking about popping an ambian tonight so I can try to get my body clock set with the rest of the Country before getting up tomorrow and going to meet my potential landlord at what will hopefully be my apartment for the next two years.

OK, and now on to answer the tag.

1. One book that changed your life?
Hmmm, this was pretty difficult, but I'm going to have to say "Interpreter of Maladies" by Jhumpa Lahiri. I read one of her short stories while attending a Fiction Writing Course at the Gotham Writer's Workshop, and it inspired me to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. The rest of the book has kept me on the path to realizing my dream, which has led me here to Israel.

2. One book you have read more than once?
I have so many, it's hard to choose! I'm going to go with "Twelve" by Nick McDonnell. I was in awe that such an amazing book was written by a 17 year old, and it also helped that Hunter Thompson wrote such a glowing endorsement. The book lived up to its hype and is definitely a must-read (I found specific nuances that I missed the first couple of times around that really helped me get where the author was coming from).

3. One book you would want on a desert island?
"The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" by Michael Chabon. I absolutely adore this book, could read it over and over and over again. It has everything I could want to keep me interested: action, war, sexual ambivalence, coming-of-age, Jewish-in-theme, personal journeys, and the comics.

4. One book that made you laugh?
Easy. "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People: A Memoir" by Toby Young. I was rolling on the floor laughing with this one, as Young's hijinks with Graydon Carter and Vanity Fair were legendary.

5. One book that made you cry?!
I can't pick one, because two stand out in my mind. The first is "Eric" by Doris Lund. I read this in high school and cried each night until its completion. A true story written by a mother who loses her son to cancer. Her writing was superb, and so heartfelt, but it also gave the reader such tremendous insight and detail into Eric's perspecitve and the author's view of death and dying. I read this when I was a pre-teen and it left a huge impression. The second book is "The Letters of Jonathan Netanyahu: The Commander of the Entebbe Operation 1963-1976". One of my heroes in life, this book made me shed many tears. How could you not while reading the personal and private thoughts of a man who died saving hundreds of Jews?

6. One book you wish had been written?
"Tripping on the Red Carpet: A tell-all memoir and survival guide to celebrity publicity". It would have been great if someone had written a book about the world of celebrity PR, before I decided to go into the field. With so many juicy stories out there, I bet it would be a best-seller!

7. One book you wish had never been written?
"Be More Chill" by Ned Vizzini. Another young wunderkid writer who had been hyped all over Manhattan, I had to read his books for a client. The first two were okay but this one was so terrible that, when I got to the ending, I literally yelled: "You've GOT to be kidding me" and then launched the book clear across the room. I didn't like the ending. Not at all.

8. One book you are currently reading?
In addition to the book mentioned above, I'm in the midst of "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand. Been meaning to read that for years and have finally started. I'm not that far along and am still waiting for the magic to begin.

9. One book you've been meaning to read?
"Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I loved "Memiors of my Melancholy Whores" and so I wanted to read this and also "One Hundred Years of Solitutde". If Marquez is as good as Paulo Coehlo, I'm going to be a happy reader!

10. Now tag 5 people:
So, my five people don't have blogs but are voracious readers and I would love for them to post their responses to my blog!

Jenny S.
Julie W. (a.k.a Jules)
Ilya W.
Shulamit H.
Marnina A.

Layla Tov!

August 26th event

I had meant to post the information Mottie gave me, but forgot to add it to my last blog entry:

August 26th, 8:00 p.m. at Yafo Atika. The shindig is called Tikar Yidomim.

And there will be Ladino music :)

Song of the day: Out Here All Night by Damone.

Walking into Walls

Dizengoff Center
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

My favorite journalism professor at Queens College, Bill Neugebauer, (aka "Neuggie") once gave me some sage advice. He said, "never act like you don't know where you're going. If that means walking into a wall, then you walk into a wall and act that you had meant to do that."

Today, I walked into a lot of walls.

As expected, jet lag kicked in and I didn't get to sleep until 4:30 am. Good thing that a lot of my friends in the States were on IM, so at least I had company, I woke up to some pre-set random radio station and while it to me a while to understand the words to the song that was playing, when I did the translation from Hebrew into English in my head, it put a smile on my face. The chorus was "Ani Chozeret HaBayta". I'm returning home.

Think G-d's sending me a message?

That got me up and out of bed fairly quickly. I had a quick shower and got ready to head over to the Dizengoff Center Mall. Before I left the apartment, I called my friend Yitz's cousin Andrew, who is a founding member of the congregation I'm hoping to attention. Andrew was great and he gave me the 411 on the Minyan (service). He told me not to come to shul on Friday night because, unlike the Upper West Side, people don't really go. He also gave me the download for Shabbos and, if I wake up in time, I'm hoping to make it there tomorrow.

Armed with that knowledge, I strapped on my trusty Sketchers and hit the streets. With Neuggies words reverberating in my head, I consulted my map and quickly wrote out some notes. I was to take Allenby up to Pliskin, hang a right onto Bograshov and then that should take me straight to Dizengoff. When I got to the top of Bograshov, I saw the Dizengoff mall and was confronted with two options. One, go up this STEEP hill to what appeared was a parking lot and an entrance way. Or, two, walk around the block and hope there were entrances on that side.

I chose to go up the STEEP hill for cardio sake (see Victoria, I was thinking about ya!). That hill will have me hurting for days, talk about buns of steel! Somehow, I got inside the mall from the top and managed to make it into the building without security checking my bag.

No good. Lax security got me a little nervous, given where I was, but I quickly shrugged it off when I accidentally opened a random door to three people having a meeting.

See what I mean by walking into walls.

I apologized and hit the mall floors. And then it hit me. Friday the malls are NUTS! It's like going to the Roosevelt Field Mall in Queens on a Sunday, not something I want to do, But, with zero supplies and reinforcements in my apartment, and Shabbos fast approaching, I really needed to get some food.

I walked around the mall for 2 hours before I found the Super Center Supermarket. Now, I could have asked someone to point it out to me, but then I would have been able to find the cool stores or change cash. Somehow, I also managed to find Psycho Tattoo and I thought about going inside to say hello to Yoni and to meet Lior, but decided to come back later in the week. Hopefully, it will be quieter then. I also headed up to the movie theatre and was THRILLED to see that the new Aaron Eckhart/Helena Bonham Carter movie is playing here! I had wanted to see that flick before I left NYC, so now I know I'll have something else to do later on this week.

SuperCenter had some interesting items. I was so out of it though, I managed to buy a frying pan, some PAM but no eggs. Yup. I'm going to be frying nothing for breakfast on Sunday morning. What I really wanted were liquid egg whites, but I couldn't find any. Oh well, I'll keep looking. In the meantime, there were these food stands set up and I managed to find one with a Teudah (kosher certificate) and the woman behind the counter promised that the vegetables I bought were steamed and not cooked in oil. I got some sesame chicken (Of SumSum) and the vegees for dinner tonight.

By the time I walked back to my apartment, my dogs were barking and bleeding (my Vans ripped the hell out of my heels in the airport yesterday) and I had sweated through my t-shirt. Not too attractive.

After unpacking the groceries, I went to the Opera Promenade to see what movies are playing at that theatre. I am hoping to catch a flick on Sat night, unless I end up meeting my former client out for drinks. Anyway, I went to Aroma Cafe and ordered an Iced Aroma Diet coffee and was in HEAVEN! This stuff is better than a Starbucks Frappuccino and they even gave it to me with a tiny, little, chocolate bar. I took my yummy coffee and hit the beach. The wind was amazing, coming across the waves steadily, and the sun wasn't beating down too heavily. I sat down and started writing this blog entry in my notebook when Mottie walked by and asked me if I was writing HIM a letter. I laughed and said it was for my Mom, and he decided to join me on the Tayelet (Boardwalk). We ended up speaking for almost 45 minutes and I conducted the ENTIRE conversation in Hebrew. I have to say, I am pretty proud of myself, especially since we spoke about politics, my move to Tel Aviv, what I do for a living, etc. Mottie was pretty cool and then he told me about some big event taking place in Jaffa on August 26th. It sounds like it's Tel Aviv's version of Central Park Summerstage, with lots of live music and some dancing.

He was persistent on having me come, so I told him that my "boyfriend" and I would try to stop by. He seemed a little disappointed that I had an "Israeli boyfriend" but was pleased that I said we would stop by. (I hope that's the last time I need to lie about having a bf, but it was definitely heading in a direction I wasn't interested in).

Impressions thus far:
1) No iPods. I was surprised that no one else was walking around Tel Aviv listening to music. NYC is littered with people accessorized by the white headphones. But here, no one was plugged in. Made me stand out like a sore thumb.

2) Banana Hammocks - Seriously, this is a big problem. Not every guy should be wearing a banana hammock and yet, they all walk around proud as can be. It looked painful on some, and was just plain painful to see on others.

Well, I'm still struggling to figure out my cell phone, so I'm off to try and access my VM's. Apparently, I have four messages and I have no clue who could have already called me! If it's anyone who is reading this blog, I apologize for not returning your call! I promise I will as soon as I figure out how to get my messages.

Shabbat Shalom!