Three Weeks in Israel

Three Weeks In Israel //

We arrived in Tel Aviv mid-morning, bleary-eyed and a little wobbly from lack of sleep, since Theo was the only one of the eight of us to sleep on the flight from Toronto. We were also hungry and some of us in need of a coffee. But I had forgotten that we were arriving on Shabbat, and our favorite café was closed. Elie called his cousin, Nomi, who lives in Tel Aviv and asked her for a recommendation for a meal that would give a good first impression. We soon found ourselves seated in an outside courtyard near the entrance to the shuk, soaking up the warmth of the Mediterranean air as our table was soon covered with the small, delicious plates of small bites characteristic of an Israeli breakfast. 

Stepping off the plane in Denpasar and climbing into our driver’s car, the smells and sounds of the island enveloped me.  The humid, sticky air smelled of savory charred chicken and chiles mixed with sour smoke from trash burning in roadside fires, those smells wafting through the high-pitched buzz of hundreds of motorbikes.  Small children…