I'm back after a week of no internet, and finally on my own laptop. Between our move, (more) holidays and our inability to read Hebrew, it's been tough to find somewhere to log on. Anyhow, things are beginning to settle down to a normal pace. We love our new place. This is the path that runs along the side of our building and out onto the street.



The apartment is just the right size and the location is good -- I feel like I'm an active participant in city life. We're right in the middle of things, on a main artery in Tel Aviv's informal garment district. We live above an optometrist's shop. Our street is most famous for its innumerable bridal shops, but peppered among them are lots of small, independent designers, so it's not entirely white lace and satin. I'll have to post some photos of some of the more memorable wedding dresses, especially a (surprisingly popular) style where the top half is made entirely of lace. Not the kind of thing I'd wear on my wedding day, in front of my parents and grandparents, but what do I know? This is a more modest dress in a shop a block or so away.



On the day we moved in, we were lucky and found a sleek little couch in a rubbish cart so we grabbed it. It's missing a leg, but it's in good condition otherwise. Besides the bed, handful of chairs, and built-in table that came with the place, the couch is our only piece of furniture. We're planning to get out to the Ikea just a few miles away, in Herzilya, once Keren returns.

And speaking of Keren, I have to state for the record that she and her family are some of the most hospitable, giving people I've ever met. The night after we moved in, Keren's parents asked to drop off the rest of our luggage (they were storing a few suitcases for us). They arrived not only with luggage, but with plates, cups, silverware, pots and pans, even fresh-baked brownies -- everything to get us started. They came up to our place and inspected it with the trained eyes of parents -- carefully checking the plumbing, the locks, the amenities, while pretending just to wander around the place. The next day Dalia and Oddi (Keren's father) dropped off Keren's old microwave and another box of goodies. They insisted we call if we need anything.

After trying to thank them properly (I'm sure we did a poor job -- it's difficult to thank someone enough for such hospitality), Dalia told us about her past. She and Oddi spent the first four years of their marriage in South Africa; Oddi went there for work and Dalia was along for the ride. They didn't speak the language, knew no one, and were far from their families. When in South Africa, she said, she wished that they had someone to go to, just a friendly house or a trusted friend. It was especially meaningful to her to help us -- she could now be that person she wished she had known. What an incredible thing to say -- and to hear! We were really moved.

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I'll leave you with a couple of pictures from Yom Kippur, three days ago. It's against religious law to drive on the Yom Kippur holiday, so the normally busy streets were filled instead with people: biker-gangs of kids with parents talking and laughing nearby, grandmothers gossiping on the street-side benches, twenty- and thirty-somethings walking their dogs. It was really quite amazing -- there were literally no cars driven anywhere in the city for almost 24 hours. More pictures are on my flickr site. cheers!