Short business trips can have their moments, especially when you end up in a timezone that is dramatically different from the one you normally spend your time in. Needless to say I am still kvetching about jet lag, although I'll take this over being stuck in cleveland. That would be a real nightmare.
Tiyul, Tiyul, Tiyul. A couple of notes on where we have been and what we have done. Been through more a couple of villages that were less than happy to see nice Jewish boys traversing through. I'd love to show a few of the friendlies that in spite of being an old man I can throw a rock harder, farther and faster.
Not really something that I want to do, I am just cranky from lack of sleep of not enough syrup on my waffles.
Ran into nice American tourists who asked me if I knew how to get to a place called Hee-Bron. Answered back with a thick southern drawl that they were a long way from Kentucky. Got a good laugh from watching them try to reconcile the voice with the man standing in front of them.
Made nice and told them that we had davened Shacharit at the cave they wanted to visit. Apparently they liked us and asked to take our pictures. We took some of our own, maybe we'll share them later.
Bounced around from place to place. If you have driven with Jameel you know that bounced around is an accurate description. Grabbed flowers for Mrs. Jameel or Mama Muqata as some people like to call her. Unfortunately the flowers wilted, or maybe the dog ate them. Somehow they were lost.
Either way showing up empty handed is not the most gracious way to thank your host for their hospitality. So I explained that there is this Midwestern recipe for fish called the pepper pike in which you lax and mandel the fish and add the secret sauce. Would have tried to make it but the truth is that without the burning river it just doesn't taste the same.
Back to the travels. Jameel and I headed into town to visit old yeshiva pals. Memories flooded back, Bravenders, Ohr Samayach, Yeshivat Hakotel, and a million other institutions of learning. Those are tales for a different day.
Somewhere between Kfar Giladi and Rehovot we stopped at a makolet, picked up some drinks and had an impromptu picnic. Good thing that we are big masculine men, that last sentence sounded a little funny.
Anyway, did the usual blogger talk and realized that although we are both young virile men within the Jblogosphere we are among the old guard. Not quite as old as others, but old enough. Good thing that age is mental, or maybe it is Jameel and I who are mental. I am still too tired to tell the difference.
The Muqata folks are busy for Shabbos so I will be heading out on my own adventure. Perhaps I'll write more later.
Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz Yisrael
"Somewhere between Kfar Giladi and Rechovot..."
That was really funny.
Cleveland rocks! There's a beer called "Burning River" by the way - it's good.
Shabbat Shalom, Jameel, Jack and everyone. Just because I felt like it. :)
I must have missed something...
I've had that beer and it rocks -- just like Cleveland does!
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