Pushme-Pullyou, and Tel Aviv

Ahh Tel Aviv, a place where the beer flows like wine and beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. Three of my suitemates and I traveled to Tel Aviv last weekend because of the beach, and the girls, but mainly the beach. It's a funny thing about the people in Israel. They are nice. They are nice to Americans. Even the girls who walk around with M-16's for a living are nice to us civilain guys studying abroad here. In fact we met several Israeli girls at the beach during the day, and later that night they came with us to enjoy the night life of Tel Aviv. The key word here is nice. But that all changes when you are waiting in line. If any harm comes to me in Israel, I am convinced that it won't come from an entafada, political and religious radicals, or heaven forbid some katusha coming from the north. Oh no, I fear that my end will come from some little old lady whom I meet waiting in some line in Israel. It's a jungle out there, waiting in line. It can be for anything. The bus to Tel Aviv, for example. To begin our trip we had to take a bus. The bus is safe, but the line could kill you. Israeli's are pushy in line, to the point where it is a disappointing aspect of the culture here. I know it probably happens in the US too, but I have noticed it quite overwhelmingly here. Because of this my friend Andrew didn't make it on the bus to Tel Aviv on his first try. He got pushed back far enough in the line that the bus ran out of room and he was left behind. But despite all, Tel Aviv, and the rest of the country that I have seen so far is beautiful. The beach is sunny and the water is warm, and there are great places to hang out and eat right on the shore, a perfect spot to watch the sun set over the Mediterranean. Just watch out for the lines.

P.S. notice the picture of the guy with the paddle hitting a small rubber ball back and forth to a partner. You are decisively not Israeli if you don't play paddle ball on the beach. Sorry Italy, it's bigger than soccer.