Tel Aviv city

I slept like a log on their lounge floor, they even used cushions to extend the matress to exceed the length of my body. I slept so well that they both stepped over me on their way to work and I never noticed.
Using a newly purchased map book of Israel I found my way to the splendid beach area of Tel Aviv and parked up before going for a wander. I had a vague notion to get a hair cut, if only to avoid white lines if I left it until I returned home with what I hoped would be a World class suntan. As I stolled past a gents barbers I peered in but saw it empty, the old guy in the white coat sweeping the pavement a hundred metres further on was either the barber absent from his post or an inmate from a local institution who had escaped by posing as a member of staff.As I went back towards the door the former became apparent as he ushered me past the big sign saying French Spoken (in French)and to a waiting chair. Removing my Oakleys to where I couldn't keep an eye on them which made me feel very incomfortable he ignored my best effort at "je voudrais un coup" I was beginning to wonder if perhaps the coat did belong to his carer after all. He tied me up, sat me down and then forced me, yes forced me to drink water from a beaker while repeating "Florida", the phrase "non, je suis Anglais" falling on very deaf ears. I explained in French, English, Hebew (remember I had learnt 1 to 10) and reinforced with hand signals that I wanted a number 2 all over.He told me his name which escapes me now, after a few attempts I pronounced it sufficiently well to receive a kiss from him on my forehead- something I quickly learnt not to do for obvious reasons.
He fired up his clippers and began by taking my right sidie back to the skin. I managed to grab the machine before it headed any higher and, having rummaged in a dusty draw found the #2 guard which I fitted and gave it back. After another sip of water at his hand and some more "Florida" he pointed to a thining patch atop my head, shrugged his shoulders while pulling a face which did indeed mean "what can I do?" in French and began about his work. To be fair he put a lot of time into it and I was happy with the result when he motioned for me to rise some 35 minutes later. What I hadn't anticipated was having it washed and blown dry before returning to my seat- for which I was beginning to wonder if I had purchased a season ticket. It was then the cut throat raser appeared. I tried to check the seat for a tilting mechanism above a trapdoor but his hand seemed steady and he skillfully removed the short and curlies around my neck. Another drink and I was ready for the off- but not before he treated me to the gold service- which actually meant half a bottle of Pacco Rabanne sprayed into my eyes! He flustered until the burning subsided and finally removed the gown. I grabbed my camera and at this he left the shop- much to my confusion. However, within 15 seconds he was back with another gentleman whom he again forced into a seat and didn't bother to put the gown on. He then posed for the photo- only stopping when he was satisfied with what I had taken He over charged me by about £3 which given the entertainment was well worth it. He showed me some family pictures printed onto A4 which I took to mean that he wanted a copy of the photo, I indicated in the affirmative but left feeling lucky to have not been reduced to blood and ears. It was a very good haircut, I smelt good- at 300 metres and here he is....crazy bastard!



After exploring all the streets of what is without doubt a very fine city I indulged in an hour on the beach, very slightly marred by Israeli defence forces flying a constant security patrol along the coast following the discovery of a boat delivering explosives to Palestinian terrorists/freedom fighters the previous day.
On returning to the kibbitz I found that Dan had arranged for me to have my very own fully furnished house, complete with sky TV and a shower bigger than D&D's- much to their chagrin. That night I was pressed into playing basketball with the guys from the kibbutz- it wasn't a great success. Dan was urging me to get stuck in while the players were able to call any foul against them without being challenged, skilled they were but I am used to a more 'organic' style of play. Still. 2 hours on the court was punishing and I was glad to get home.