As we walked around the rental car looking to document its nicks and scratches, I thought, “Isn’t this really the least of your worries?” Honestly, the credit card companies won’t even insure a rental car in Israel, and Avis will politely tell you that there are some places you simply may not go in their car. So if this thing gets keyed in Tzfats and that is the worst outcome of the rental period, could we not all agree to being ok with it?
Truth be told, it really hasn’t felt all that threatening to be here except when air travel is involved. For a country that has only had sixty years to get its act together, Israeli has done a damn fine job with things like roads and street signs. Plus the convenience stores are a hoot! The guy who works the cash register is also a barista, apparently, because he makes you a little cappuccino or whatever it was you were wanting. No brewed coffee, just espresso drinks. And Turkish coffee if that is your thing.
Which has been my thing so far up to this point. The funny dance that is jet lag had me up at 5:30 drinking coffee in the lounge with the night watchman of the hotel. Once the sun came up, I managed to make it to Jaffa and back by foot. It was fun to hear Bono singing over the ear buds about a place where the streets have no names when I was running in a place where the streets have no names.
When I got back and showered, we went for breakfast where I discovered Shakshuka. Not that I planted a flag in the egg and tomato dish or anything, I just tried it for the first time. It is now on the list with jelly donuts as justification to move. And move we did, right on up to the sea of Galilee in the afternoon. Saying goodbye to the culinary delights of Tel Aviv was so hard that all we could manage was to find the hotel and get some take out falafel for dinner. By morning we should be done sitting shiva for departing little New York and be ready for wandering in the Galilee.