Yesterday, a journalist-type friend concerned that my current HLC (Holy Land Central) fall from grace might push me to pull on the wetsuit and flippers and start swimming west (I can’t; the wetsuit’s pre-pregnancy, custom fit), offered to take myself and Rapha “away from it all” for the afternoon. Collecting us in her American-size, 8-seater SUV, we were in Raanana in ten minutes flat thanks to the connecting uber-highway from Tel Aviv.
Once out in the country, I took in the surroundings: wide, open spaces, cottage style homes, greenery and a living room you could toss frisbee in. She doesn’t really live in the country; with a population of 70,000 mid to upper class, mostly Anglo-Saxons, Raanana hardly qualifies as Green Acres. It doesn’t fit into yuppy-ville either. It’s a nice place to raise kids with a good school system and an extremely vocal community of movers and shakers. There.
Hanging for the day was cool- I perused A.’s overflowing bookshelves, met her bi-lingual kids and basically relaxed in a house setting for the day, escaping worries of deadlines, bills and bi-culturism.
Sweet, it was of her, to attempt rousing me with tidbits of Americana during my time of internal questioning. And in fact, blah-blahing and just hangin’ with a sistah was fab. Towards the evening, we even got daring and left the kiddies with a sitter to traipse off to “Meatland”, a specialty shop for getting your grub on if you’ve been chalishing Trader Joe’s Barbara’s cereals, Ken’s Steakhouse BBQ sauce, Tofu frozen dessert, Marshmallow Fluff (oh my god, why?) or other assorted sundries from the U.S., England or South Africa.
Were it that the internal rumblings could be quieted by Reese’s peanut butter cups alone. Unfortunately, regardless of domicile, the ill ease will persist. But here, again, is yet another example of human kindess. Can we come back and shoot hoops soon?