Bill Clinton, Fonzie, and me

In the past, whenever I’ve come to Israel, once an Israeli heard that I was from the US (it’s always the “r’s” in Hebrew that give away my identity), he or she asked if I was from New York. I’d explain that I wasn’t, that I was from Arkansas, and usually received the reponse: “Oh, Bill Clinton!” Yes, Israel, I love him too. But with four years of Barnard College under my belt and now working at Hazon in Manhattan, I can finally just say, “כן, אני גרה בניו יורק” (“Yes, I live in New York.”).

The trip over was relatively easy. Two highlights include spotting Henry Winkler in the international terminal in Atlanta (a good omen, right?) and seeing cops biking around the airport. I was tempted to ask if I could take a spin–a few more training miles wouldn’t hurt, especially with the  amount of rain we’ve had in NYC recently–but resisted. I’m just going to have to wait until tomorrow to find myself on a bike again. Will report on the rental bike and see if I made the right decision not bringing my beautiful red Felt over from the US.

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