A completely uneventful flight. One light moment: one flight attendant says to the others, "Who's turn is it? The guy in 32F has his shoes and socks off and is picking his toes." One of them goes to take care of it. Passport control: three agents and 500 passengers in the hall. What has previously taken 5-10 minutes takes over an hour. Then, rush hour traffic, so the trip to the hotel takes another hour. Already after five o'clock, maybe still time for a quick nap and shower before meeting the group for dinner. No such luck - the electronic key to my room doesn't work. After two trips to the front desk, and waiting 20 minutes for a security guy to let me in, he determines that the system needs a new battery. It's fixed, a quick shower and dinner. A goody bag from the tour company. A walk around the block, the key works (hoorah!), a call to Lynn and away to bed.
In the morning, we are to tour Tel Aviv and Yafo, then back to the Carmel Shuk and then lunch and back to the hotel. The guide at Independence Hall shows a lame but thankfully short video about the founding of Tel Aviv. The narrator says something happened in 1896, but the subtitles say 1898. They still haven't fixed it since the last time I was here 10 years ago. Then the hall guide goes into some weird shtick about how Jews don't know how to swim. What that has to do with Israeli independence I will someday ask Moshe Rabbenu and Rabbi Akivah in the big yeshivah in the sky. At Rabin Square, no one wants to get off the bus except me - I wanted to put a stone on the plaque. But I see that there are no stones. Why? No idea.
Despite all the new construction downtown, the surrounding areas are dingy. Yafo has great views, ancient history, and is as rundown as Tel Aviv. The arts quarter has lots of Yemenite-style clothing and a shop that only sells wines and liqueurs made from pomegranate. But some fresh squeezed pomegranate juice hits the spot!
Across from the shuk, we go to "the best falafel and shwarma place in Tel Aviv." The pita is outstanding, the lamb shwarma pretty damn good. One street of the shuk has so-so arts and crafts, the main street is full of pre-Shabbat shoppers. There are a lot of non-kosher restaurants, and the easy availability of treif meat means we're sure not in Jerusalem.
Services at the Masorti synagogue in the neighborhood are interesting - Nusach Sfard. A bar mitzvah kid appears to not know the kiddush blessing. Maybe he's nervous. The streets are full of cars, cafes are open, no one says "Shabbat Shalom." Whatever.
Dinner is good. Great discussion of all sorts of things around the table. Back upstairs, the electronic key doesn;t work. After two trips to the desk, this time the desk clerk just gives me a regular metal key. It works. Hurrah!
Morning service at the Masorti synagogue is interminable - at least three hours. After the Torah reading (the bar mitzvah kid did a good job on one aliyah), his family runs out and eats all of the kiddush, getting the rabbi pretty pissed off. At lunch, I'm told we're not on the list. After lots of back and forth, the Deputy General Manager calls the tour company and it's straightened out. Back to my room, can't take a nap because the room isn't done.
A walk on the beach. As I marvel at all the people in the water under the "no swimming signs", I hear, "I met you at the shul this morning." He's there with his three kids, in the water. I tell him what I was thinking, and he says, "It's Israel. Nobody listens." No shit.
Back at the room, it's still not made up, so I decide to read as a nap is out of the question. Five o'clock, a knock. Housekeeping? No, a security/maintenance guy tells me housekeeping couldn't get in, what did I do to the lock. After telling him my experience, he fixes the lock, tells me the electronic key works but I should keep the manual key, and says housekeeping is already done for the day, but he'll make a call. Maybe after havdalah and dinner, the room will be done. Maybe after the Moshiach comes. I'm not holding my breath.
