It rains here. Really.

OK so this wasn't on the script: heavy rain. Throughout the day it rains and then clears up enough to wear sunglasses, all within an hour interval.   

Walked Friday morning to the Carmel Market (admired more food). The market is large and pretty intense, much like most Mediterranean markets, only that most (but not all) vendors there are Jewish. So, OK, that isn’t like most Mediterranean markets.

I then walked  over to Nahalat Binyamin Street where the tour books say an amazing and authentic arts and crafts market opens up on Fridays. I was early (no surprise there) so I sat at a cafe waiting for the artists and craftspeople to show up. I sat by the window and watched a smallish crowd walk by as well as watched the rain fall. Eventually I asked my seat mate, a sabra who also happened to have lived in Vancouver (what is this? “We are all Canucks” or something?) when the artists’ market would start, and he said, "When the weather gets better."  So I guess I am coming back next week.

I wandered about the city all day. I have no schedule, no deadlines and no particular aims (and I am not sure this is really me).

Stopped at Bialik’s house. Chaim Nachman Bialik was Israel’s national poet in the years 1925-34 and his house, influenced by Islamic architectural style reflected in the impressive decorations dominating the house and the colorful colors, is now a museum. As a former student at Instituto Hebreo Chaim Weiztmann a long time ago, I believe I could have recited the complete poem El Hatzipor. Luckily, other than the guy who sells tickets, there was no one there for me to test my memory with.

and

From there I walked over to another building almost as famous as the Bialik House: the building where Rafi was born. When we were here 4 years ago, it was in the middle of renovations, which are now complete and it has now been wonderfully restored to its Bauhaus origins (please note the blue sky!).  It also looks to me like they have added an extra floor to increase density.

Later I stopped at the mall to finally get a new SIM card. Signed a 17 page agreement all in Hebrew. I am guaranteed it is a contract I can end when I leave... guaranteed!  (I certainly hope so) The secutiry guards at the entrance still seem to think I represent no more than a minimum threat but everyone gets checked, every time. Imagine what that would do to reatil sales at home.

On that note, earlier in the day I asked the rental agent where the building's "safe room" was and where I could find the gas mask. He looked at me as if I was asking him where to find square wheels. He told me he didn't know about the safe room (isn't it his job to know??) and that neither he nor his family had gas masks. "The western media exaggerates," he told me and shrugged. I most sincerely hope so.

Later on Friday, it being Friday, I asked the waitress at a café close to my apartment where the nearest synagogue was. She looked at me as if I was asking her where to find square wheels...