Countdown…

Wednesday: Had dinner with the aunt and uncle, walked the cousin’s dog, and tried to get in touch with my olah. Each blogger was assigned someone on the flight to follow, but mine disappeared at the airport; I later learned she went north for some touring. I included her basic stats in my oleh roundup, and I assume she’s doing well since she’s obviously not at home jumping every time the phone rings.

I met up with O1 to cross a few items off my list. First I got a schwarma in Ben Yehuda where, unfortunately, I had to endure some street karaoke while waiting for it. The stand did not offer french fries, much to my disappointment. But it was good stuff.

We wandered around and I managed to get fleeced in a souvenir shop (I’m assuming I was, because the guy offered a 30% discount a drop too readily).  Then we strolled to the David Citadel Hotel to see if we could snap pictures of couples dating in the lobby or otherwise be obnoxious. However, it was 10pm by the time we dropped in so all the daters were already gone.

Question: generally, you can make some claim about the guy based on where he takes you to eat on a date. I mean, Prime Grill vs Dougies. But does the hotel he takes you to mean anything? I mean, is the Citadel classier than the Marriott?

Thursday was spent chasing around town meeting old friends. God, NMF#7, and mindy in the Old City. Then a great aunt and uncle. Then O12 and her twins. After which I kindly liberated her by allowing her to take me out for ice cream while her husband babysat.That’s the kind of chesed I’m always ready to do for a married friend – I’ll even pay for my own ice cream, sometimes. Kids are great, but there’s nothing that quite matches that luxurious feeling of not having to do anything except enjoy yourself.

Thursday night O1 and O2 and I went to the Nefesh B’Nefesh welcome party in Tel Aviv. They were both on the radar because NBN invited them as old olim to greet the new. O2 played volleyball, O1 watched her, and I tried to find some olim to interview. To my amusement, news that the flight was 47% single had spread among Israelis, and the first five people I spoke to were Israelis looking for a date. Eventually I gave up and went to bury O1′s feet in sand.

Friday I shook the sand out of my handbag and did something that should have gone against my better judgement: I got into a car with a stranger who I hardly knew except through brief online communication.

However, I’m glad to say that Gila didn’t kidnap and ransom me or do anything terrible except subject me to 45 minutes of Kakadu artwork and try to coax me into a crawlspace cave without a flashlight. We now have a raindate for a hike where she doesn’t forget the flashlight and I don’t forget the camera, and preferably, one that also includes finding a skull for my desk.

Gila dropped me off back in Ramat Beit Shemesh where I spent Shabbos. RBS, though able to boast the incomparable kinfauna, is a rather dull place to spend Shabbos. While bloggers posted in Jerusalem took in some Chareidi protestors, I was limited to leaning over the marpeset and admiring how the street turned into a huge playground on Shabbos. Little boys (it’s a young neighborhood) chased balls across and little girls skipped down the center of the road.

Motzai Shabbos I found an email from Frum n’ Flipping. She wasn’t going to make it to the JBlogger Convention, could the Israel chapter of the Bad4Shidduchim Club meet for ice cream? So we did. And just a warning: guys, don’t take FnF out for ice cream or anything else with a very brief best-by period. She eats too slowly. By the time the meeting was 45 minutes old, FnF looked a drop like that scene in Frog and Toad where Toad goes to buy  ice cream and it melts before he gets back to Frog. Only, obviously, FnF didn’t stick the cone on her head.