17 must be my lucky number.

Why? Because that seems to be my magical age. I have had at least 6 or 7 encounters throughout this trip where the conversation goes like this:

Random person: How old are you?
Me: I don't know. How old do you think I am?
Random person: Hmm...you couldn't be more than 17. 
Me: ...are you serious?

I mean, I'm glad people aren't guessing 8 years in the other direction, but I still find it comical that everyone guesses the same number. Of course, this shouldn't come as a surprise. Last year at a book festival the guy in charge asked if I was the high school intern...and he was serious. Hopefully this is all just a testament to my fabulous skin and not to my style or behavior. This has, however, made my "I'm a (poor) student" story a little more convincing. 

Old grape press for wine at the museum

Last night and this afternoon it rained. The morning was sunny, but too cool to lay out on the beach. So instead, we opted for a visit to the Eretz Israel Museum. All shops are closed on Saturdays (still in observance of Shabat), but most restaurants and museums are open, making them a popular choice for locals and tourists alike. So, after 30 minutes of walking, and thus committing ourselves, we came upon the museum with 80 or so people waiting in line for tickets. It was ridiculous. "Are they doing BACKGROUND checks on everyone!?" Kevin asked after we realized the line wasn't moving. But soon enough we approached the counter, and with my brightest smile, I presented my old UH ID and was granted a student ticket for nearly half the cost. 

The museum had quite an assortment of exhibits, each in its own little building. It also had a planetarium and an intriguing photo exhibit that we stayed at until we heard the afternoon rain quit pounding on the tin roof. From there we grabbed a cab and headed back to the apartment. 

Best crepe EVER

Later we opted for dessert before dinner, and headed down the road to get some gelato. As it turns out, our little gelateria also makes crepes and Belgian waffles, so unable to resist the urge, I ordered a crepe with half caramel, half nutella, and a scoop of vanilla gelato on top. It was HEAVEN. On the way back, we stopped at the local pizza shop where pizza is made as one giant rectangle with different toppings. You order by telling them how big of a piece you want and they weigh it to determine the cost. Why we do not have places like this in the U.S. is beyond me. We need to catch up!


I do have to take a moment here to say that after three weeks, I'm definitely missing good 'ol American food. What, you ask, is the #1 thing I wish I had? It's simple: Macaroni and Cheese. I'm not sure why, but this has always been my go-to comfort food, and I'm mad at myself for not buying a box of EZ Mac for this trip in case of a food emergency (...there's always next time...). Don't get me wrong...the food here has been fantastic. But, I don't think I could eat another bite of hummus or eat another schwarma. The first thing I want when I get home is either a steaming plate of beef fajitas, complete with all the trimmings, or rotisserie chicken from Boston Market with a side of cheese-injected macaroni and sweet cornbread. And that's going to be how I welcome myself home.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we'll rent bikes and have a ride down the boardwalk, occasionally stopping to enjoy the little beach pockets distributed along the coast. We'll make a final trip to Jaffa and the markets, and begin to say goodbye to Tel Aviv and our vacation as a whole. It's almost time to fly.