I vacillated between calling this post “The Day I OD’d on Dairy” and “Let’s Go to the Mall.”
Those are my two takeaways from today, my first full day of vacation.
First of all, let me explain. The milk in Israel is just a totally different breed of cow juice than what we have in The States. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say that it is amazing. It’s creamier and tastier and all around more wholesome tasting. Basically, for the 50 weeks a year I’m not in Israel, I fantasize about this stuff. Having said that, I may have gone a bit overboard on the milk products a today.
“Branflakes Pampering” that’s what the cereal box says.
One of the more interesting things about the Hebrew language is that it’s relatively new, even though it’s ancient. Hebrew itself goes back thousands of years, but for the last few hundred it has only been used in biblical texts. When Hebrew became the official language of Israel in 1948, there were all sorts of words that Moses and his homeboys hadn’t thought of yet…like “branflakes.” Thusly, many words in Hebrew are basically English words (thank you British imperialism) spelled phonetically with Hebrew letters. The top word on the box actually says branflakes (one word)…not bran flakes. I figured that one out myself. The “pampering” part I needed a little help with.
Oh, yeah and the cereal was just a vehicle to drink milk
Passion fruit yogurt (the yogurt here, Oh My Goodness!)
I chased my yogurt with a bag-o-chocolate milk
Think Capri Sun only in a bag with no straw, you just bite the tip of the bag off and suckle it IV style. Okay, I guess you don’t suckle an IV, but you get where I’m going.
For dinner we went to a “Dairy Restaurant.” In Israel (and in America for that matter), Kosher restaurants are divided into two categories: meat and dairy. For dinner we went to a restaurant on the Tel Aviv waterfront that’s owned by a dairy Kibbutz (a Kibbutz is a small community that lives and works together, usually specializing in one area like agriculture or livestock).
The bread for the table came with tahini, pesto, and some sort of honey and grape concoction.
The Fella and I shared a salad—mountain of cheese included
The Fella had a “toast” dish, or a bagel with cheese and spices and tomatoes
I had Shakshukah. Roy and I both agreed that mine is better. Score one for the American!
It may seem like we spent the day eating, but we worked up our appetite. Thanks to my handy-dandy inability to sleep past sunrise, I was up bright and early and we hit the gym first thing this morning where Roy met up with a friend for some weight room bonding time, and I spent 30-minutes on the treadmill and another 30-minutes on the elliptical.
This brings me to my second almost title: The mall.
The gym is in the mall. Actually, everything is in the mall. The veterinarian is in the mall, the laser skin care center is in the mall, so are your friendly neighborhood bistros (I’m not talking foodcourt food). Israelis spend A LOT of time in the mall.
In fact, when we were looking into apartments to rent during our stay, which mall they were near was a definite deciding point. We’re actually going to the same Israeli gym we went to last summer, which is sort of comforting.
After the gym, Roy had some errands to run and I had every intention of doing work…and then I fell asleep for three hours.
When he came home we decided to do our first official vacation-y act: We went to the beach.
Where we stayed until it was time to…you guessed it, go walk around the mall.
I leave you with a little Robin Sparkles…because this song has been stuck in my head all day.