In Hebrew, there is apparently no word for cleavage.
I learned this as I sat in the backseat of Y's cousin's car. We were driving to get a pre-Passover lunch: giant bowls of hummus. We're doing hummus wrong, America. It's not just a dip, it's a meal.
Anyway, Y and his cousin were having a perfectly innocent conversation that took a turn when Y, for some reason, mentioned cleavage.
His cousin, who I guarantee was familiar with the concept of cleavage -- he's a 23 year old guy -- was confused. "What is cleavage?" he asked. Stuck in the backseat, I listened as Y explained cleavage and expounded on it until he felt his cousin was adequately familiar with the term and all its various uses. After, oh, ten minutes of discussing cleavage, Y was satisfied.
A few days later, we took a day trip to Jerusalem with this cousin and his girlfriend.
At one point, the girlfriend was telling the story of an embarrassing moment while waitressing.
"I was carrying a platter of food, and as I reached across this woman, I accidentally spilled the platter all over her...." she paused, at a loss for words, gesturing across her chest.
"CLEAVAGE!" said Y's cousin proudly.
Some people travel to foreign countries to heal the sick. Some travel to bring religion and hope.
We brought the meaning of cleavage.
On that note, here are some pictures of one of the holiest cities in the world.
When I was growing up, my family visited Disney World fairly often. In Epcot Center -- inside the giant golf ball -- there's a slow moving ride called Spaceship Earth that takes you through the history of human communication. It sounds boring, maybe, but as a kid I loved "the future" on that ride: a family communicating via video phone. It seemed crazy at the time, about as crazy as flying cars, and yet here we are, FaceTiming and Skyping like it's no big deal (related: Everything is amazing right now and nobody's happy).
Although I use technology approximately 100 hours a day and shouldn't really be amazed by it anymore, I still kind of am -- especially when I'm across the world from my life and still so connected.
Get ready: I'm about to hit you with, like, 6 posts about Akko, a city you've probably never heard of but should definitely visit. Actually, I'm going to hit you with 6 blog posts and a Steller. Does anyone else use Steller? I think it's so fun.
The old city of Akko, located on the coast of Northern Israel, is an ancient walled city made up mostly of Muslim families. This means every night the sky glows with the neon lights of minarets and several times a day, the noise of the city is muffled by the call to prayer that takes over the village. The city streets are narrow stone alleys with tiny convenience stores tucked into nooks and crannies and bright shades of blue, green and turquoise hiding behind every corner.
It's like nowhere I've ever been.
I had to write that intelligent sounding paragraph to make up for what was actually coming out of our mouths, over and over again, while we wandered the streets of Akko:
"It looks just like it did on Wikipedia!" --Y
"This is just like Aladdin!" -- me.
A few things about Israel:
1. I have lived on this Earth for 29 years, and never once have I run smack into a glass door.
In Israel, it happened to me twice.
It happened to Y once.
Mazel tov, Israel, you pretty much have the cleanest glass in the world.
2. Sing it with me, everyone: ...and I'm proud to be an American....
3. On Sunday morning, our flight left from Tel Aviv at 5 am, with an 8 hour layover in Amsterdam, getting us home to Minneapolis at 7 pm the same day (so basically, we time traveled). Rather than go to sleep in Tel Aviv, we stayed up all night, fueled by ouzo shots and wine. When our plane landed in Amsterdam a few hours later, we took the train into the city for the day. In other words, I was an international jet setter on Sunday.
On Monday, I did nothing but organize my medicine cabinet.
It was almost as much fun and left me with far less jet lag.
4. I'm currently spamming Instagram with photos from my trip. They're all from last week, and I realize this isn't how Instagram is intended to be used, but I don't actually care. For 2 reasons:
1) I don't think of Instagram as a way to gain followers or "enhance my brand". For me, it's just a scrapbook -- there have been plenty of times when I needed a pick me up and engaged in some instatherapy -- scrolling back through my pictures and realizing what a nice little life I have.
2) Despite sharing far too much about my life on the internet, I have a fear that if I post photos while I'm out of town someone is going to come steal all of my stuff (because people are clamoring for my Target wardrobe and Ikea furniture). Although, if anyone was paying attention, my absence from social media was probably even more suspicious...