Saturday, September 02, 2006

Shabbat in Herzilliya.

I've had one of the finest experiences of luxury, only 10 Kilometers away. As we lay on the couch, with the memories of a truly excellent shabbat and sunburnt bodies to remind us of a truly fabulous 25 hours.

It was quite the experience to spend the weekend with 6 men. I'd like to consider myself quite the fortunate woman to get to be the fly on the wall during a "guys only" weekend. Granted, most of these boys I feel quite comfortable with. Most of these boys I spent everyday with for five months as we studied Hebrew and then threw down on the basketball court in Jerusalem. As much as it's an honor to be considered "one of the guys", I don't doubt it's just as offensive as well. Being one of the boys means you can't act offended during the usual expected times a woman is expected to. But it does mean not getting picked on as much when an episode it required as well as being alloted the last glass of wine from the bottle without an argument.

Being the only female during a guys only weekend also means aiding in your team losing the touch football match, getting hit with a squash ball in the stomach, seeing a couple of bare behinds, and catching the manly men singing some Madonna song at the poker table.

On ,Saturday I was carried cross legged to the beach in Herzilliya and placed upon a newly made silken handkerchief a size just large enough for my bum. Two of the guys I was with fanned me with a peacock feather that was specially ordered from China and shipped in with the last load of gems to a store nearby, which was on the other side of the marina from the apartment we stayed in (which is, hands down, the NICEST apartment I have ever set my Midwestern toes in). Another fed me grapes and stuffed vine leaves while singing me the new Bob Dylan album as we wasted time waiting for the other two at home to finish preparing lunch.

The waves in Herziliya were monsterous. And each time I ran into them, I do admit- I had a gulp of fear that they would vacuum me into some whirlpool I couldn't swim out of. Not to worry, the boys created a wall in front of me and allowed the waves to break on them. Rather that than wet my hair no?

Ahh yes, Another fine weekend to put under my belt. I am patting myself on the back from managing quality weekends. It's definately an art to master, and I feel I am quite close.

xx

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