The Godfather

I got to meet a big fish today. In the name of internet anonymity, let is just say his name sounds like Brewy Loose and he is The Godfather of many of the other greats in the field. This is the guy that figured out that band gaps of semiconductor nanoparticles were size dependent in 1983 and furthermore, was the guy to figure out why. Quantum confinement? He's the man. Nobel Prize? Only a matter of time.

I realized that this may sound like bragging about reflected glory, but I am well aware of the fact that I just made about, oh, a whole whopping three readers of this blog green with envy. The rest of you wouldn't know the guy from a hole in the ground. Such is the small pond life of academia. I am merely a minnow excited to have met a trout.

Since my work is closest to publication, the boss singled me out of the group to have a short coffee meeting with The Godfather and discuss my results. The boss introduced me as "doing an excellent potdoc" and used his favorite descriptor for me: "and is learning Hebrew!"

I feel a little bit like a border collie. It is somewhat pathetic how hard I will work jut to get a little pat on the head from the master.

Anyhow, The Godfather asked good questions, had some neat thoughts on possible experiments that neither of us had thought about and generally seemed to like my research. YEA! Makes me want to stop writing this paper and get back in the lab.

Again. A little scratch behind the ears and I am ready jump off the back of the truck and herd sheep till I drop. Case in point, I just booked TEM time for 8-9 pm on New Years Eve. Sad and pathetic, I know.

These days I am mostly stuck behind the computer working on a paper which means writing and rewriting and making figures and fixing figures and more fiddling with figures. Last night after I thought everything was almost perfect, I realized that I had done all of my figures in Ariel and they have to be in Helvetica. More fiddling with figures. If you have ever written a scientific paper, you will know that everything has to be PERFECT and just so. It drives me bonkers. I am a scientist not a graphic designer.

Which brings me back to The Godfather. He gave a talk today and although he used powerpoint, many of his slides were scans of old overhead transparencies from the late 1980s or were powerpoint slides commandeered from his former students who now have big research groups of their own. This is a guy who invented some of the most powerful nanoparticle imaging systems out there, and he hasn't mastered powerpoint. Hilarious.

Merry Christmas everyone!

I hope you have a lovely time no matter what you ended up doing this holiday. My Christmas did not get off to a great start but ended so pleasantly, I have to smile thinking of it.

As you may have noticed, I wasn't feeling the May-West on Christmas Eve, but after a couple of slices of Pizza, a nap and an hour of belting out carols at the midnight service, my heart was singing with he Christmas spirit.

True to form, the church was packed with perhaps 200-300 people, about 30 of which were Christians and had any clue as to what was going or or knew the songs. This incidentally, included the organist. I know now that it is possible to sing Angels From the Realms of Glory to the tune of Angels we have Heard on High. The rest of the people were there for the show, perhaps expecting to hear full-on choirs, or see kids act out the nativity story like they do in the movies. I saw two people actually taking notes and must have been in some sort of anthropology or religious studies course. As I was leaving the church, I heard one of my few fellow Christians loudly complain "They are all tourists! Come, watch the Christians! This isn't a tourist exhibit!" I can see his point. At times it was a little annoying, but in the name of promoting religious tolerance, I would rather have it this way than, well- you know- persecutions, crusades, giant walls, etc. Or a further breeding of the young stupid, bigoted, racist jerks, that can be found here who think that because I am a Christian and western, I must be a slut.

But I got to sing loudly and happily and I was in a great mood and strutting it home humming Angels we Have Heard on High (with the wrong words) and carrying my bible in hand since I had given one of the readings. At that point, a SUV buzzed by me and a guy yelled out his window "EAZY PUSSAAAH!" at me. My first thought was to throw my bible at him- literally, but instead, yanked off my mitten and gave him the finger. "Well there goes the Christmas spirit" I thought. As down as I felt at that moment, I should have know that the Christmas spirit is pretty resilient and it would turn out OK.

I woke up in the morning and started moving and didn't stop until midnight. I had to go pick up the big bird from the butchers (which was five pounds bigger than I ordered), go to the grocery store, bake a cake, make butter tarts, stuff the turkey with stuffing and then stuff the over-sized beast into the oven, peel the potatoes, clean the house, decorate the house, make a salad, move furniture around, set the table, mull some apple juice, make gravy....and then had a wonderful evening with five friends. We laughed and laughed. I don't think I have ever laughed so much at Christmas. Everyone had to try on Mom's chicken hat and the Jingle-Bells singing Chicken was a big hit. There are some great pictures of the shenanigans but I figured I will keep them for blackmail. Somehow Ehud had not heard the Cow fetus story and when he found out he had tears rolling down his face and a few times I was afraid he was going to fall off the chair. Itai insisted on making and bringing eggnog, which no one had had before, despite the fact that I kept telling him egg nog was gross. But it wasn't so bad, especially since it was laced with copious amounts of 8 dollar brandy. David wrote and presided over the now famous and annual Christmas general knowledge quiz and Adam and Orpha brought a giant pile of mini gingerbread men whom after a quick drowning in coffee have provided most of my sustenance on Boxing Day.


To say the least, it was an unexpectedly wonderful Christmas.

Everyone helped out with the dishes and rearranging my furniture back before they left, so after they left and today I really only had a few pots and pans to clean, the floor to mop and the carcass to strip and turn into broth.

I must tell you, I did not do these things until about 4 pm today when I finally crawled out of bed and had a shower. Must have been the egg nog with the 8 dollar brandy.

8pm on Christmas Eve

It is Christmas Eve and I was the last one to leave work. I am not sure if this is a whole new level of bad-ass hard coreness, or a whole new realm of pathetic.

I am leaning towards pathetic.

I am going to now eat the entire contents of my fridge.

Butter tarts anyone?

It is Christmas Eve at 7:54 in the morning and I am lauging at the consequences of last night's genius idea to make butter tarts - a traditional Canadian treat- for my labmates.

I have yet to find shortening here, lard of course would take an act of god, but I did find packages of premade pastry in the freezer section last night. I picked one with a promising looking pictures on the package. I let it thaw in the fridge overnight and this morning got up nice and early to make warm, gooey, melt-in-your-mouth butter tarts.

You know, sometimes you just have to laugh. This is what happened:



Hopefully this is not foreshadowing for tomorrow's turkey.


Update: it is 11:23 am and I am cleaning the pan. I took the buttertarts to work anyway after taste testing one for breakfast. Despite looking odd, the locals didn't know any better and gobbled them all up.

Horray for Mrs. Claus, a.k.a Mom

The electrician was just here and he liked my story. He laughed when he read it and later told me it made everything clear what the problems were. Well, he said something along those lines that since I only understand about 60% of the words in what people say to me. Sometimes 60% is enough, most of the time it really isn't. But I got the jist.

Every day I have been opening little packages that my mom sent me along with a santa betoqued stuffed chicken that sings jingle bells and a Charlie Brown Christmas tree- complete with single red ball. Inside these little gifts are dollar store treasures: decorations and Christmas junk to make my house more festive. I now have three Christmas CDs (Michael Bublé, Diana Krall and -gasp- Celine Dion), a red string of tinsel, shiny paper snow flakes, stickers, snowmen candles and gell letters that spell "MERRY CHRISTMAS" for my window. Except the last S got squished in travel and keeps falling off, so it usually reads "MERRY CHRISTMA" with the S lying on the floor dejected like a very large green booger. Oh well, it is still fun anyway.

Never has dollar store treasure been so enjoyed. Yea for Mom. Who knows what I will open tomorrow? The anticipation is killer.

I need an Electrician

After the living room light got stuck on ON, we decided we needed an electrician but wanted to wait until after James' trip and after we met with the landlord at the end of the month. But a new problem has arisen and we just can't wait or I am going to start an electrical fire. But how do I explain the two problems to a Hebrew speaking electrician?
With childish Hebrew and sick figures of course!

I'll let you see if you can figure out what happened. Don't forget to read from right to left!

Problem 1:

On Saturday....


On Monday...


Problem 2:



So Graeme, do you think The Spectator will give me a job as a cartoonist if this chemistry thing doesn't work out?

For the Record

As I promised I got my butt in gear. For the record, today I:

Cleaned the bathroom
Figured out how to stop the toilet from constantly running (well that was embarrassingly easy)
Cleaned out the U trap in the bathroom sink (I am considering shaving my head now)
Took out the really nasty U-trap gunk filled garbage
Swept the floors
Mopped the floors
Changed the bag on the vacuum
Got the rug out for the winter
Vacuumed the rug
Did two loads of laundry
Made grilled cheese
Instant messaged with James (his talk went well. He schmoozed very successfully and got the inside scoop on some jobs)
Talked to mom and wished her a happy birthday
Tried to change a light bulb and flipped every circuit breaker in the house
Found flashlight, turned off dinner on the gas stove
Called Dad and then Asaf for advice
Got lights back on without being electrocuted
Finished making dinner and ate it
Noticed my comment on Solar Energy In Israel article on the CBC webpage is the "most agreed" with (Yea!)
Studied Hebrew and did my homework
Wrote 8 Christmas cards
Updated my CV
Started seriously pondering research proposals for job applications (Any good ideas, anyone)?


Well, I think it is time to put my feet up and watch another chick flick, how about you?

The week of Hanukah: a review

I really have no excuse this time for going so long between blog posts. It has been a busy and eventful week and it is not like I didn't have things to say, but I seemed to have gotten myself into a non-blog writing, spend all day in my pajamas slump. Since James left, I have let all of my slovenly bachelorette ways come back out. Two chick flicks in 24 hours, five hour afternoon naps, leaving my long hairs in the bathroom sink, breakfast bowl still on the table at 10 pm and diet of consisting mostly of the three C's of nutrition: coffee, cereal and cookies (although that has to stop after I nearly passed out getting out of the shower this morning).

Today I will stop procrastinating and get my butt in gear. Here is a very long blog post to prove it.

Last Friday James and I went to the Boss' house for the lighting of the first candle of Hanukah which was also Shabbat dinner. His brother and his kids were there and I was happy to find out that I am not the only one who is struggling to navigate the minefield of cultural and religious taboos around here. The boss' brother is a secular man but is a biology professor at a religious university. He said he has learned that after work when he takes his work-kippa off in the car on the way home, to roll it and not to fold it. This way there are no creases to give him away as secular. Then there is the remembering not to try to shake hands when he meets female students. And he had some hilarious stories of hiding out in various places in the university at 3 pm so he won't be pulled into praying.

James flew back to Canada last Sunday. He has been busy ticking off a very large list of errands and well as meetings with the family. As well as the usual blistering holiday schedule, he gave a chemistry talk at McGill on Friday and I am still waiting to hear how it went.

This past week was Hanukah, and Hanukia candelabras seemed to be everywhere. They come in every shape and size from giant lights on the Knesset parliament building, lights on every lamppost, 10 foot lights on street corners, traditional branched candelabra in window sills, tin boxes outside people's front doors- to my personal favorite: one made from and erector set that my boss' son made years ago and still gets pulled out every year. It even spins (somewhat wobbly) when you flip a switch. I think what I like about it so much is it reminds my of my family's Christmas tree which is always covered with decorations that don't match made by us years ago and full of memories.

I got to see this wonderful piece of family Judaica both on Friday night and at the group Hanukah party on Wednesday. After everyone but me heartily sang Hanukah songs they have all known from the womb, I was asked to sing a Christmas song. I balked and told them it was really hard to think of a Christmas carol that wasn't completely offensive to a room full of Israeli Jews which got a laugh. I didn't think "Oh come oh come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel" was going to go over so well. I finally came up with Jingle Bells and sped my way though it at record speed to get the torture of singing in front of my research group over with.

Earlier in the week at work, Gabi asked me if I would like a sufgania. "A what?" I asked and he opened a box from a bakery. "Ooooooh, jelly doughnuts!" I said excitedly.

"These are NOT doughnuts!" Gabi replied haughty "They are sufganiot."

Well lah dee dah, I thought, but must have looked contrite enough to warrant getting a sufgania despite my earlier faux pas. These pastries only are sold at Hanukah and of course I have eaten quite a few, each time getting confectioners' sugar all over my face (the best Israeli food cannot be eaten with dignity). FYI, they taste like jelly doughnuts.

Here Bussy Bussy Bussy!

Given the limited size of J-town (725000 people), the bus system is not so bad. The buses are usually on time and the ones we use regularly come every 20-30 minutes. The routes can be a little confusing though and for some bizarre reason the bus company doesn't print or have available route maps. (Perhaps they think that if there are no maps, suicide bombers won't be able to find the buses.) The only way to find out where a bus goes is a somewhat sparse wikipedia page which lists the streets the buses go on. But figuring that out takes a good map, a computer, a prior knowledge of Jerusalem geography and some serious patience. And now that I have mastered the online Hebrew bus schedule, things go a lot more smoothly.

The bus company, Egged, has almost a monopoly on all the city bus systems and the intercity buses throughout the country. Despite the monopoly and the legislation to provide service to almost every obscure little town, I have to give them props; the bus between cities is really cheap, reliable and not too slow. On top of that, they run almost like a city bus, where people can and do get off and on at all these little along-the-road stops. These guys put Ontario Northlands to shame.

The stops on the side of the road make me laugh. If you are lucky, they have a bench with a covering curiously shaped like a question mark. I think this must be an ironic joke by a civil engineer. It makes me think of the questions all waiting bus passengers are asking themselves. "Where is the bus?" "Is it going to come?" "Did I miss the bus?"

If you are unlucky, the bus stop only has the tell-tale yellow sign marked with the bus route number. On our recent trip the the Negev, we saw what we consider possibly the worst bus stop in the world. It was so bad, I had to take a picture. Imagine the poor sucker waiting out here. (And the other side of the road didn't look any better.) I'll let you be the judge:

Now in Circus Ring Number Three...

Yet again, I got to be the performing animal in ring number three- oh, I am sorry, the hard working post doc who just happens to be working on the HR-TEM at 6pm on a Thursday night as an important group gets a tour of the nanocentre.

I know that this time was especially important because the boss wore a suit jacket and actually made myself and Elaina practice our talks.

This time it was the Board of the University. 18 prominent members of Israeli society came to visit me in my natural habitat, the electron microscope room. Included in the audience was the University President, University Rector, a head of one of the big Israeli Banks, a few extraordinarily successful business people, former Members of Knesset (parliament), and a former Chief Justice.

I didn't know any of them from a hole in the ground. Except for the Rector. I met her once before. She is really nice.

I did my little thing, showed pictures of my little nanoparticles, explained what I did and gave an example of how I used and needed the electron microscope in my own research. After I was through, there was a moment of silence and the little old lady who had been standing two feet in front of me and still squinting to see me said "You love what you do, don't you? I can tell." I guess it really doesn't matter if this crowd of big cheeses understood the science of everything that I said. I can be contented with conveying passion and excitement.

I also got asked my favorite question that gets asked in many ways but this time came as "Why are you here? How does being here advance your career?" I have answered this question in some very poetic round-about ways before but this time I went for the direct hit. I replied "to get a big fat resume," and promptly got a chorus of laughs. Sometimes the dead honest answer is the best one.

I had fun doing this, and I had almost forgotten how much I like pulling out my Park Ranger skills and talking to the public. Silly as it sounds, showing people the park for those summers was some of the best training for being an academic scientist I ever had.

Settlers' Protest

On the way home from our Hebrew midterm exam tonight the whole main drag was closed off for a big protest. Even though we fought through the crowd valiantly, we could not even go home the regular way since no one was allowed anywhere near the PM's house. We got home through a circuitous route, I grabbed the camera and headed back out to collect some photographic booty for you.

Speeches by big politicians were being made then a band came on. Even though the crowd of over 30000 was peaceful, full of tweens and families, the paddy wagon and many police were ready to go if anything went wrong.

So what was the big deal? Well first I need to give you a little Israel history lesson, if your political knowledge on the Middle East is a bad as mine was when I first came. After WWI, the Brits controlled the whole area. In 1948 Israel was formed and Jerusalem split in half. Jordan got the old city, East Jerusalem and all of the land east. Israel got the west bit. For many years there were bad things going on and there was a big no man's land in J-town just a few hundred meters from where I am sitting now. In '67, there was a war and Israel took all the land east down to the Jordan River.

Many Israelis predict that the land will and should go back to Jordan- as soon as there is security that there won't be more rockets. But others see the land as the properly gained spoils of war, or have entitlement to it for religious reasons. I am not really sure on the whole deal here, I am sure there are many more details and reasons, but needless to say, some Jews have moved in to this "occupied territory" east of "the green line" (the pre'67 border). Some have gone into homes left empty by people fleeing in the war, others have built neighbouring houses and extended existing towns. Others still have built entire towns in the middle of nowhere and others are building and rebuilding shacks in the Judean desert every time they get torn down. And there have been incentives to go. The land is cheap and the government has given subsidies.

The ruling government knows that keeping these people safe and with proper resources is a huge and expensive job and the further building of Jewish settlements pisses off the Arabs. The very strong opposition thinks settlement should occur "naturally." The government has put on a ten month settlement and building freeze ostensibly to bring on peace talks, but really to placate the wishes of Barak Obama. This has really cheezed off the settlers and their supporters. The protest was by and for the settlers.

So just who ARE these settler people? Are they all religious nut jobs? Alas there are some, but most are not.
A lady in my ulpan is a jeans wearing, British expat, Jewish convert, and nurse and has been living near Jericho for years and raised her three children there. I asked her if she was a "settler" and when she replied in the affirmative, I jokingly asked her where her bonnet and covered wagon were.

I thought, and still think, you have to be a bit crazy to live past the green line. You have no security. Who knows what peace deal will be made in 5 years or in 10 years? You may lose your home, community etc. I expressed this opinion to a labmate and learned a shocker. One of my other labmates is looking for a house in the occupied territory. The reason? He is 32, has two children under the age of two, a wife at home, a graduate student stipend and living in a very drafty house which was broken into while they were sleeping last year. Land in the occupied territory is cheap. He can give his family so much more by moving there.

Although I can stand on my little piece of moral high ground, how can I condemn a friend for trying to do what is best for his family? For now, I am going to sleep on it. We all know that the situation is complicated and I am finding it even more difficult to pick a side when I can put faces to the issues.

A tough decision

During the big holiday months of April and October, it seems impossible to get things done around here. The nanocentre is closed down so I can't use the microscope, labmates drift in and out of the lab like feathers on the breeze and it is dangerous to work alone. So while the place is working and everyone is here, I want to get as much done as possible.

As you all know, my project has been a big pain in the butt for the last few months. I only have two years here, and I want to get out as many research papers as possible as it is my publication list that will get me a real job. My PhD was merely average on that account, so this is my time to work hard and get 'er done.

Back in September when it was time to book flights for Christmas I had a project on the rocks, the useless month of October was looming ahead, and I couldn't justify making most of December a right-off too. I made a tough decision. I decided not to come home with The Chicken for the holidays.

I cried. And even now, I am dreading my two weeks alone while everyone is together at home.

What will I do? I will work like a dog so I can't get lonely, and on Christmas day I will lure my labmates over to my house with a little dose of pity and the promise of turkey with stuffing.

When one friend found out about my yuletide situation, he suggested The Chicken deserved a kick in the nads for leaving me alone over the holidays. First of all, I will be needing those nads in the future, so there will be no kicks. Secondly, The Chicken desperately misses his family, and hasn't seen much of them in the last two years. And after a MIT post doc and a Science paper, his future doesn't depend on his performance in his job the same way mine does. So he is going home. Why should I guilt and manipulate him into staying? I have already asked so much of him to put his career on hold and move across the world.

So don't feel sorry for me too much. I made this decision.

The Negev

Last weekend, The Chicken and I decided to rent a car and head out for a warrior weekend. South to the Negev Desert we went to see what was there. And yep, sure enough, there were bedouin shacks beside the main road, herds of camels grazing in the ditch, ibexes meandering though the towns, people riding horses bareback though the grocery store parking lot in Be'er Sheva, a giant field of sabras cactus, beautiful scenery, funky geology, a spy Zeppelin parked in the middle of nowhere, a "chocolate factory" that gives off gamma particles and some great history lessons.

A highlight was a visit to Avdat, an ancient city on the spice route high on a hill. What amazes me is how they collected enough water for all of those people! As I was walking though the ruins, pondering the amazing thing that was the spice route, I tried to imagine what it would have been like in the town. I imagined an overpowering smell of frankincense, myrrh, cardamon, pepper, cinnamon, camel and unwashed men. James was less moved. "Five bars, Hen!" he exclaimed as he held up the cell phone.

We spent much of the second day in Mishpeh Ramon, a huge geologic crater that looks a bit like the grand canyon. We did some hiking through a wadi to a spring that had dried up for the season, and are we ever glad we made the trip in December and not July. Hoooooot and dryyyyyyy.

Our friends Danny and Itai had told us to drive Route 227 as it was a pretty drive and at one time was the only way to get to Eilat. We turned off this wonderful straight, flat, wide, four-lane highway onto a one lane road of which a good foot of each side was eroded away. This is where the cursing of Danny and Itai began. We ended going up this intense set of switch backs with too few barrels full of gravel serving as the guardrail. I was petting the dashboard of our rented Hyundai Accent all the way, coaxing her to the top. She made the "scorpions ascent" in a noisy manner since James wisely insisted on honking the horn at every blind corner- which was every corner. Despite the tense moments the view to the desert valley below was worth it. Since it was near dusk, the shadows were long and the colours very red and the whole effect was breathtaking.

After getting lost in Be'er Sheva for the second time on the way home, we headed into J-town and back to reality. The real achievement of the weekend was renting the car and driving in Jerusalem. I would only recommend driving in this town if you know EXACTLY where you are going and how to maneuver though the maze of twisting one way streets. Like I said, this city was planned out by a four year old with a crayon.

Guest Post: Aunt Sandy

Here is a little note James wrote for you to see. You may recall me writing a note to James' Aunt Sandy when Operation Cast Lead started last December. Again, you should not confuse this Aunt Sandy with my Aunt Sandra, (one of my most faithfull readers and commenters) whom is alive and well and living in NZ.


This past week we received some sad news. My dear Aunt Sandy Mackay (nee Ashenhurst) has passed away in her home in Stony Creek.

Aunt Sandy was a real fireball. By training, she was an emergency room nurse and was extremely good at it. During parts of summers our family spent together in Port Charlotte, Florida and innumerable colourful family dinners, I will always remember her as a tough, vigorous lady who spoke her mind and kept everyone on their toes. Primarily though she was a loving mother, grandmother, and aunt - who worried about us being in Israel so much last year we had to write a special message to calm her down. Mother of four and grandmother to nine, her family and friends will miss her dearly.

Rest in peace Aunt Sandy.

Blow out

I lost my temper today for the first time since I started this job.

I really had had enough of someone else not doing their job with anything resembling competence and it adversely affecting me. And nice words had not worked in the past- trust me this was a long time coming. So after I had wasted yet another two hours of my time because of their incompetence and they finally showed up to work at ten, I let them know exactly what I was thinking.

I am happy to say that this occurred in a closed room and not out in public, there was no personal name calling, no tears (which usually happens when I am really angry) but there was a fair amount of embarrassing finger pointing ("this is not MY job, it is YOUR job."and "I always seem to be left solving YOUR problems")

At lunch, I had to tell The Chicken I had royally screwed up and lost my temper at work. I was expecting a sigh of disappointed resignation,a bit of a reprimand and then a frank discussion of what I needed to do next which I figured would be the dreaded apology.

The Chicken's response:
"Good. About time."

Did I ever tell you The Chicken is awesome?

Street Food

Israel has some pretty darn awesome street food that can be purchased from booths or little itty bitty restaurants where you are lucky if it seats five. For instance:

Every once in a while my labmates and I pile into cars and head to a shawarma place called Hashemen which means "The Fat Guy". On tall spits are piles of chicken, turkey and beef. The guy shaves off some of the meat with a special electric shawarma meat shaver that looks like a rotary sander/hand held circular saw into a special shawarma meat catcher that looks suspiciously like a metal dust bin. The meat goes into a pita along with hummus, tehina (sesame paste), cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, hot sauce, eggplant and possibly other mystery vegetables and sauces. What results is a pita full of yumminess. Despite a foil lined paper expertly wrapped around your meal, with all those sauces and vegetables, by the time you are done, there is tehina smeared across your chin, a piece of eggplant stuck to the side of your mouth, your hands are covered and dripping, there is a good chance there is a drip on your shirt and your belly is protruding proudly with the after effects of gluttony.

Let us not forget the national snack of felafel, of which I think "snack" is a bit of a misnomer. Felafel is again a pita packed to bursting with yumminess that can leave you full for hours. Apricot sized balls of this chick pea mixture are deep fried, and then stuffed in a pita with many of the vegetables and sauces mentioned above, but also some pickled cabbagy stuff and grated beets and a few french fries thrown in for good measure. There is a felafel joint outside Damascus gate to the Old City that we frequent since it is the cheapest felafel in town at an amazing 6 sheck (2$). And since everyone goes there, everything is fresh from the high turnover. But you can't eat felafel without basically sticking your face right into the foil lined bag and taking a huge bite. And napkins are not just nice, they are a necessity with felafel. By the time you are done, the foil lined paper bag is dripping from one corner onto you, the street and/or your shoes.

And the bakeries, oh the bakeries, make these wonderful arrays of pastries that they display at the shook, warm and fresh for you to smell. On top of that, you see men walking by with trays of them on their heads, leading the way like the pied piper from the ovens to the booths where they are sold. Some sweet, some savory, some cheesy, all of them addictive. With a sigh of happiness you take your first bite which then causes a veritable white out snow storm of pastry flakes that fly everywhere – some of which inevitably cling on your clothes and rest there for several hours unnoticed.

The truth of the matter is Israeli street food is seriously yummy, but it cannot be eaten with anything resembling dignity. On top of the sloppy and flaky messes, they think of nothing of garlic and great piles of raw onion at lunch time. Here is my recommendation for you if any of you are planning first dates: Israel is not the place to go. Save this place until you get to know each other a little better.