Colossal Matzo Balls? Teleporting? Yes Please...

I just woke up in Tel Aviv, it’s 2:00pm. A pretty standard wake up time for me this trip since I stay up late so often. But the strange thing in this scenario is that I could have sworn I’d be waking up in Jerusalem this morning…

However, considering the last thing I remember about last night was taking my 7th shot of Jameson whiskey, I’m going to assume there is a perfectly good explanation for being back in the city by the sea.

I caught a bus to Jerusalem on Monday so I could spend a few days with my good friend Mickey while he’s house-sitting for an old Israeli couple with a strange eye for art and a psycho dog named Shanti.

The second I walked through the front door, Shanti immediately started biting at my ankles and swinging her paws at my legs-as if she were trained to knock visitors off their feet. Being a dog lover, I attempted to calm her with kindness by berating her with hugs and kisses. But this simply fueled the fire, and she continued to attack me until my arms and legs were all scratched up and I had to call Mickey from the kitchen to assist me. Shanti is afraid of Mickey, and when he yells at her she knows he means business. Right when he shouted “Bahootz!”-which means “outside” in Hebrew, she trotted into their extensive backyard with her tail between her legs.

Once the beast was finally bahootz and away from my ankles, Mickey and I raided the kitchen for something to eat. The old couple that owns the house went grocery shopping for Mickey so he would be able to feed himself for the duration of his stay in their lovely home. Had I come about a week and a half earlier, I’m sure the fridge would be stocked with all kinds of goodies. But by the time I got there, all that was left was some unstable looking produce and four or five containers filled with strange colored pastes-one of which being pinkish purple in color that, according to Mickey, was made out of some type of fish. No thanks! After rummaging through their cupboards for a few minutes, I found a box of matzo ball mix and a container of chicken bouillon powder. I’ve never made matzo ball soup but there’s a first time for everything!

The soup tasted amazing. It definitely hit the spot. The only problem was that I didn’t foresee that once they’d be ready, the size of the matzo balls would be about three or four times the size they started at when I formed them. And my god, these matzo balls were colossal. So huge that by the time I got a couple into my bowl all the water absorbed into them, making the meal essentially just, well…matzo balls. Still, I’m not complaining. They were the best world-dominating matzo balls I’ve ever eaten.

After the matzo balls settled in our stomachs, we decided to go for a dip in a spring about fifteen minutes from the house. Yet, Mickey neglected to tell me that this so-called spring was actually a cavernous hole in the ground filled with ice cold water, guarded by swarming and angry looking bees. Mickey went in first to assure me that the angry bees are actually quite friendly and that the water wasn’t actually too bad. It took me about ten minutes to find the courage to shuffle down the deteriorating water-soaked rope, through the bees, into the icy water. I really really hate bees. But when I did, I was glad. It was unbelievably hot that day and the spring water was refreshing.

After soaking in the spring for about ten minutes, we climbed out and let the sun dry our skin while we drank Goldstar and enjoyed the beautiful view of Mevaseret Zion. It was definitely a relaxing day.

But back to the confusion at hand…

Wednesday night, Ronen came to Jerusalem to DJ at The Cassette, a tiny dive bar our friend Inon bartends at. When Mickey and I got there, the place was completely full. Though that isn’t saying much; The Cassette at capacity could probably only fit about 30 people. So we decided to sit outside. Sitting next to us was an extremely loud American in a red American Apparel sweatshirt accompanied by three Germans who were much more polite, or maybe just not as drunk. Due to the vicinity between our tables, I knew it was only a matter of time before they would attempt to talk to us. Once they did and the American (whose name was David) realized that I too was American, we basically had no choice but to pull up a table. Since Mickey is currently studying German I thought it would be entertaining to listen to them speak, and Inon kept sending me free beers and shots that I didn’t ask for so I had a pretty good reason to stay.

About three beers and two shots later, David has already disclosed his entire life story. He was born in London but grew up in Jersey. He moved to LA when he was 16 and fell in love with it, now he is in Israel for a year to help disabled children. At first I thought I misjudged him, he seemed like a pretty decent guy. However, once Mickey engaged in the conversation David spent about 45 minutes talking about how rude ALL Israelis are and how stupid it is that Israel exists in the Middle East. I should of known the conversation was going to go sour at some point! I walked away before it got any worse-politics and alcohol simply do not mix, so when I went back inside Ronen let me DJ for an hour.

Once I got to DJ the real fun began, and that’s when things start to get a bit hazy…

Apparently if you DJ at a bar and don’t get paid for it, the payment is in free shots. Every couple of minutes or so Inon would drop off a shot of Jameson next to the computer, and it would just be rude of me not to accept. I spent the rest of the night fighting with Ronen over control of the music and talking to the few Israelis who remained in the bar about traveling to Europe and what to expect. Almost everyone in Israel is well traveled, and most have pretty decent insight on Europe and the right places to go.

According to Ronen, around 5am or so we got on a bus back to Tel Aviv and passed out around 6am-hence all the confusion. I was planning on spending another night at the old couples house with Mickey and waking up to Shanti whining next to my bed to play with her. I guess it’s better this way… I hate riding on buses and I sort of feel like I teleported. What a wonderful three days!