It was a perfect night.
First the drive from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, which is often more like a “extended standstill” than an actual drive, was smooth sailing and without incident.
And even the weather, which has been so hot and oppressive, managed to cooperate.
Which is another way of saying that by the time we got to Tel Aviv, I even sensed a slight breeze and did not feel the need to remove every item of clothing, including and not excluding my bones, just to get a little relief.
I was dining with friends of mine, a couple who, every time I see them, I am reminded anew by how much I like them. You know the Charlie and Lola book, Snow Is My Favorite and My Best? That’s how I feel about them.
Of course, since they are very stylish and trendy, we had dinner at the most in (aka, “in-ee”) restaurant in the shuk hapishpushim in Yaffo. And because it was the last night when the shops stayed open late, there was this carnivalesque feel. We sat at a table on the narrow cobblestone sidewalk and watched the world pass by.
Suddenly, a troupe of young women (or were they men?) dressed in matching white satin gowns encircled us and began to sing. And by "began to sing" I mean they serenaded us, which is really another way of saying they serenaded me. Directing all of their attention towards me, every verse or so another young woman would step forward and deliver her solo part, all the while looking at me imploringly.
What were they saying? The song was in Hebrew and Spanish and I did not quite catch it all.
But I understood enough to know that one of the verses sung by the young woman positioned closest to me, was a blessing of sorts. She was foreseeing a great romance in store for me, with a dazzling young man.
“I’ll take it,” I thought.
Which is another way of saying, there isn’t a blessing I won’t accept!
And then the singing minstrels were off, dashing towards another table at another restaurant, ready to shower them with song.