luckypernie

Armed with a from my sister borrowed bike and a very broken map I swished along the streets of the city Tel-Aviv. Free as one can be without a helmet. You should not bike without a helmet. But its wonderful to feel the wind blow through your hair, not knowing where you are headed at, what you will eat for dinner, or what it actyally was you ate from that plate in the restaurant this morning where you had your breakfast. No hesitation to the fact that it was the best one of however you spell in town. They made it from olive-oil instead of butter I found out after I jumped up from my place to kiss the waiter, to tell him that this was increadible, demanding to know what it was. It was quite similar to a Danish pastry, only it was saltier and stuffed with spinach and feta cheese, baked perfectly crispy after a ritual where the peace of dough is was wrapped around it self. Like hugging itself, after getting the filling after being put in layer after layer on top of itself, this magnificent dough. If you love yourself, other people loves you to. That was maby the trick with this creation,  with a perfect capuccino on the side. After a meal like that anyone would kiss their waiter.

Here is where the sun always is shining, at least that I know of.
Here is where all the food is great, and you always get a perfect cup of coffe, always served with a smile.
In Tel-Aviv everyone talks to you. Everyone helps you to find your way if they think you might be lost. Even if you are not lost, they try to help you. In fact, you must really hide to get some time to study the interesning drawing of your map if you don't want to get pointed out on the map, tell you life story and have a cup of coffee or a date for the evening.
My little entangled peace of paper for a map got totally ripped by the wind, it was not even windy, here is where the wind always is gentle. It took a couple of trying strokes in the air, before he landed on the pavement. Still on my bike I leaned down forward to reach for the little bastard map as he continued his outing. In the corner of my eye I can see a man, quite amused, watch us, the hunter still bent forward over her bike trying to run, whith one half of her almost still a map flying in slow-motion two feet ahead of her. When he was done watching the never ending game of trying to catch a map on bike he gives it to me just as I am inches from running over him. He gives me a card and tells me he is performing in this play, and I tell him that damn, I have seen this card before. We chat and it comes to our conclusion that he knows who Sandrina is. 
Only minutes ago, a friendly lad stopped me, when I tried to look at the map, also he on a bike, and after I'd found out что с ним можно говорить по русский (that to him it was possible to speak russian) he also told me he knew who my sister was. She had only lived in Tel-Aviv for what was it, half a year, and she already knew half town? Cool.
It's funny, it is, how small the world can seem, and yet ithe distance between people make them forget, or think of it as not my problem when other people need to cover swim in poisous chemicals so that I can where something nice on friday night. Just a thought, just something to sound smart, just so I look like I care of others.