Thursday, September 6, 2007

There's something about an Israeli supermarket shopping experience that intimidates me incredibly. Perhaps the Russian women behind the counters who don't speak English and wouldn't be able to help me if I was in a bind. Perhaps it's that I need my American reliable pre-packaged portions that always seem to suit my meals so perfectly.

Today I completed a survey about my experience while on my 10-day organized trip to Israel. "It did not meet my expectations." In my wine-tinged truth, I must say what followed freedom from my trip hasn't met my expectations either. And the more I think about it, the brattier I feel. I have to say, I never once wanted to be anywhere else until now. Something's off and I think it's me. Because it's a Thursday night in Tel Aviv and where I once would have wanted to be painting the town red, I want nothing more than to bury my head in the pillow until I fall asleep.

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