jewish fashion conspiracy always wrecks my vacations

You probably know me well enough, if you're reading this, to know I'm a big desert rat. I have been having a blast (sorry mom, no pun intended) in the cities of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem but I was feeling really itchy to get out of town so I convinced Dan and Yoseph and Aliza to take a trip down to Ein Gedi yesterday.

We had an enormously uncomfortable trip down in a too small car, with a bad map, ugly west bank sightseeing and then finally some trauma involving luggage that got left behind. And then, just as I'm settling into being there, having gone for a dip in a sulfur pool, eaten an amazing meal and relaxed under the windblown palms at our kibbutz "resort," my Tel Aviv friend Gilad calls to tell me he's scored me a meeting with Gil Kopash, the comedian whom I wrote about here earlier.

Fucking great opportunity. Fuck. So anyway I woke up this morning and schlepped back to TA. No hiking, no massage, no spa, no groovy desert. It was so depressing coming back here to the wet grey Florentin. I know this meeting will be exciting and obviously very special opportunity for me as JFC and as entrepreneur and as journalist looking for something to write about, but damn, why did it have to happen today? Classic.