Past secrets...

My last days as a corridor full-timer are drawing to a near, though they are determined to squeeze every last drop out of me...they now want an API Integration kit written up in a day and a half. Right away, sir. Would you like it leather-bound?

Went to teach some English last night, as well as consume a little Southern Comfort, and came back to see mrs. anglosaxy slumped on the sofa in exhaustion. I put my keys on the kitchen counter top thingy, only to be met with a blood-curdling scream..."Don't dare put your keys there! I've just spent the last 2 hours cleaning that! You could even eat your dinner off of it!". OK, that I won't be trying, but she'd done a fine job. imshin would have snapped her up, right there and then...

Strange though it may seem, at this time of the year I always manage to forget my past as a very illegal tourist (the Ministry of Interior would send out search parties...) who made a pretty penny cleaning apartments. Those were the days when I wasn't fussy about work, women or waves...just don't mention it to mrs. anglosaxy or she'll have me kitted out in those pink rubber gloves of hers in no time...

Beautiful stranger!

She's coming...

Recovering

It's been a slow process today, working with half a brain. Even that half was running on auto-pilot this morning. But I'm getting there...The wedding last night was nothing special, a great place in Tel Aviv, very nicely done, but the bar was weak and the music...way, way, way, too much Mizrahi music. I can't stand that stuff! It certainly got a fair few people up and jigging to it, but me, I had to console myself with swapping surf stories with a cousin, while partaking in the odd sip of something invigorating. My dancing shoes were raring to go, but they only played 3 or 4 'Western' songs all night. Disappointing is the word. And because it was a tribal do, mrs anglosaxy felt compelled to stay until the end, which was around 1.30...

< road rage > Bastard drivers in this country (like you didn't know)! Last night on the way home, before the wedding, some f*ck decided he wasn't going to let me pass him. There was quite a queue of traffic and everybody was jostling to get into a single lane (where 2 lanes merge into one), while surprisingly enough, everybody was pretty well giving everybody a chance to get in. Except for this f*ck. He went even better than I'd anticipated. He actually cut into me, scraping the side of my car. But didn't even look in his mirror to see what he had hit. I took his number. We'll meet again, my friend. Revenge shall be sweet... < / road rage >

My Weekend

1. Picked up the new fake leather stools from Florentine (see below).
2. Spent 2 days (under mrs. anglosaxy's close supervision) constantly rearranging the house to accomodate the new stools.
3. Escorted mrs. anglosaxy to a much publicised collection of cheap women's clothing in Ramat HaHayall...saw the queue (approximately 50 salivating women - no men in sight), got the willies and ran for cover. Never, ever get in the way when it comes to a woman and shopping for clothes.
4. Ploughed through a whole chapter of Simon Schema's History of Britain. Yep, I might only be on Chapter 3 but thank Christ I now know who initiated the Domesday Book.
5. Tasted what I believe to be the best felafel in Tel Aviv...I'm not a big fan of felafel, but try 'Melekh HaFelafel' in Yehuda HaMaccabee street, damn good, cheap as well - 10 shekels for a FULL pita plus 3 shekels for a drink.
6. Rearranged the patio so we now have a nice little seating area in which we can slurp our morning coffee.
7. Freelanced as a fashion guru for mrs. anglosaxy. We have a 'tribal' wedding tonight (one of her cousins), so I had to 'ooh' and 'aah' as she strutted her stuff on the living room catwalk. You might be pleased to know that she, with my recommendation, has gone for a slinky, off-the-shoulder number she originally purchased in Vietnam.
8. Reclaimed my title as champion swing and roundabout pusher, with thanks to mrs. anglosaxy's nephews. There were some anxious moments as I thought I'd lost it to another tribal member, but I was mightily relieved to see that I still 'have it'.
9. After relocating the new stools for the last time, I slumped into bed for an early night (last night). It was an early start today, what with the wedding (and an anticipated Arsenal whipping of Man United - live at 5 this afternoon, but don't tell my boss, she thinks I'm leaving at 5 because of the wedding).

Roof, roof!

Today's celebratory cake on the roof - some lucky git had managed to get himself relocated to the States - was the inspiration for this posting...I thought I'd treat you to some rooftop views of south Tel Aviv. Anyone recognize the area?

Hair of the dog, please

Still in hangover city...last night we popped over to Matan to see some friends, watch some Champs League footie, drink some beer and basically, just have a laugh...

We also managed to catch some of 'The Office' while flicking between channels (to appease the ladies, who still don't understand why 22 men are running around after a ball, while "nobody ever passes to the guy in black"...). The Office is one fine piece of television. I can see why it has been favourably compared with Fawlty Towers. This clip had me in stiches, just a shame they don't have the whole scene here...

Meanwhile, back at my office, the boss is away sick, so the mice are out scurrying around the corridors...I can feel a long lunchbreak coming on...

Life, Jim...

Yesterday was another long day, I ended up in Rosh Ha'ayin last night (instead of tonight), teaching English. The 'chinking' of glasses filled with something alcoholic to practice social English is definitely a role play situation I will be using again, and, er, again...while the days at work are fast turning into a blur, only another 10 days of stress to go...I'm crossing them off my calendar with a big red ' X '.

Anyway, finished up at around 12 last night, after catching the Sex in the City double-header (maybe I shouldn't be confessing to that...). On the way out of Rosh Ha'ayin there was one hefty roadblock, manned with quite a few security personnel...brought the days events right back into focus. Then, as we carried on down the freeway, we spotted a couple of armoured vehicles. It's not often that you get to see them in action this close to the centre. Looks like Israel is at least preparing for the attacks that are going to come. Let's face it, it's just a matter of when...

Meanwhile, life goes on in Israel, and the new Miss Israel was crowned last night (how many of these bullshit beauty/fashion/model shows are there in this country??). Where is she from? That's right, Rosh Ha'ayin...

Uh-oh...

Oh dear. Looks like it's gonna get busy round these parts...I'm not going to delve into this - if you want more local blogger insight, go to here or here.

Scratch, scratch...

Blimey, that was quick! 7 years ago today (what was that? 7 year itch? Mmmmm...), around this very hour, I took a younger, some might say more naive, mrs. anglosaxy on our first date. As first dates go, ours was the stuff of legends...

I picked her up on my fancy 50cc scooter (I know how to impress...) from a fancy neighbourhood in North Tel Aviv. Papa anglosaxy (to be, of course...) peered over the gate apprehensively to check out the lout that was leading his only daughter astray - I wasn't intimidated. Telling the young princess to hold tight ("no, tighter!"), we roared down towards Yafo. I had a picnic in mind because I wanted to impress - I was sure she thought I was just one of those tourists who drank and spent all day on the beach (well, she wasn't far wrong!) - so, in order to sweep her off her feet I had sliced up some kiwis, and brought along some legendary bamba, and a small bottle of wine. After finding a nice little spot overlooking the sea and the Tel Aviv coastline, the charm offensive moved into gear.

After dazzling her with my repertoire, she decided to play her ace, suggesting we go to see her friend who worked in a cool cafe. I knew I was being sized up, but it looked like I was on a winner, especially when her hand slipped into mine. We drank a coffee or two and then decided to go with her friend's suggestion of a movie. The movie, Secrets and Lies, was a bit of an anti-climax, though we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company [censored].

We exited hand-in-hand, probably both feeling that this was the start of something big...but after something like 8 hours together, we hadn't had enough. I took her home, where we talked and drank more coffee, while I was a little apprehensive this time, anticipating the entry of her parents at any minute. My good luck carried through, though, as I managed to exit the house without bumping into them on their way in...I probably wouldn't have noticed them at this point anyway, what with me floating on some cloud or other...

If you think you can beat that first date I'd like to know how...

Saturday morning breakfast...

Welcome once again to the world of Yemenite cuisine, and more to the point, a very traditional and much-loved Saturday breakfast meal - Jachnun. Not in the least bit healthy, this meal guarantees to leave you patting your stomach (even after a portion much the size of the one in the picture below). But very tasty, especially with the spicy tomato side dish and a boiled egg that has been left in the same Jachnun pot overnight (Jachnun is cooked very slowly all through Friday night). I have to admit, it doesn't look that appetising, but those of us who know, know...and note the lack of cutlery - if you really want to go native, this one is hands only...

Down south (Tel Aviv...)

On our travels down Herzl Street we snapped up a couple of stools, fake leather knock-offs but a decent price. And how could we fail to buy anything when the guy showed us a couple of snapshots of himself before he lost 40 kilos (still room for losing a few more, believe me...). I wonder how many times he's used that deal clincher. Only in Israel.

As the garden's been blooming like the Chelsea Flower Show these last few days, I've posted a few shots:

That be the weekend cometh...

The end of a long week...I'm just blogging a little before I close up here...

Today I managed to squeeze in my favourite student, from Rishon Letzion (20 minute drive away), though it meant taking an extended lunchbreak of nearly 3 hours. Oh dear. And I even managed to get a slice of cake for my drive over to Rishon - the fortnightly cake feast was revived this week and K came up with a great little cheesecake. Very tasty, beat the pants off my legendary chocolate and cream thingy from a few weeks ago. Once again, however, the corridor inmates managed to astonish me: this time one of them didn't like cheesecake. So, the list of banned ingredients now reads: no alcohol (I've been banned from adding some of the strong stuff for my next masterpiece), no apples, no cinnamon and now, no cheese...so it looks like my next effort is an exciting chocolate cake. Fussy bastards. I was always told (by the esteemed ones) that the starving kids in Cambodia would kill for the leftovers on my plate, and here they are, turning up their noses at cakes filled with apples or cinnamon or cheese...as O put it, they need "a kick up the arse".

Tomorrow looks like mrs. anglosaxy has got her sights set on some new furniture down south Tel Aviv way...me, I'm dreaming of a fairly alcohol-filled weekend. It's about time we went out for a 'session'.
"Can I speak to Al?"
"Al who?
"Al - coholic!"

Honey, I'm home!

It's been a long couple of days. Yesterday ended at 11pm, finishing up with an English lesson in the city that never ever sleeps, Rosh Ha'ayin. Can't complain though, taught while supping on a nice, cold Southern Comfort. If only all my students were that hospitable!

Today I got back from the office at 9.30, after polishing off some last-minute, cram-it-in-before-the-deadline documentation. I'm beat...and I'm not sure who that babe is sitting in the living room, but she looks a lot like my missus...

This had me in stitches today: what's your favorite swear word? What is it about hearing a whole bunch of swear words rattled off by various celebs that makes us laugh like stupid kids?...Just don't let your kids hear this one...

O update: She's fighting back! My motivational anti-establishment speech did the trick! I feel like one of those boxing trainers, towel wrapped around my shoulders, motivating their charge before he goes out to get flattened by Tyson...

Mmmm, which Passover pressie...

With Passover (Pessach) drawing closer (and the inevitable get-together with the entire mrs. anglosay clan), it's time to start fantasizing about the gifts your company is about to bestow upon you for the holiday. Well, I didn't even get a chance to start fantasizing - our hardworking HR department (how hard can her job be, it's not like she's been interviewing candidates for new positions in the last 2 years...) has just sent an email informing us all that we can choose from one of 4 options: an airport trolley for suitcases (yep!), a picnic set including a bottle opener (but no bottles, of course), a mobile coffee set, complete with gas canister, and a book in Hebrew about the museums in Israel.

Well, let me ponder me that for a while, mrs. HR person, and I'll get back to you...

I really don't want to appear ungrateful, and whatever I say probably sounds ungrateful, and despite the reassurances that Israel is bouncing out of recession (yeh...) times are still hard for a lot of people and there are many people who are not going to get a thing...BUT these presents are pretty lame...

O has a meeting later with the Oh Mighty One to discuss a pay rise. Poor girl is paid half of what the other Product Managers are paid, yet she does the same job and is often here until 10-11pm... we have a corridor sweepstake that is aimed at guessing the payrise...I'm leaning towards the lower range unfortunately (after the Passover gift email I might put an extra 10 shekels on the lowest sum available), though I personally think she deserves exactly the same salary as the others...

UPDATE: A dumbstruck O shuffled out of Oh Mighty One's office, obviously delirious about her new pay rise. I had to take her to the roof for a strong coffee. She's been here 6 years and still hasn't learnt... I'll treat her to a vodka on my sweepstake winnings...

Fill 'er up, mate

So you thought Israel was all camels and desert? I know I did - reading stories about kibbutz volunteers and watching documentaries on the BBC, you never really get a balanced view (and we're not talking about politics here)of what Israel is really like...I know I was shocked on my first drive through Tel Aviv, seemed way too developed (almost American-like) to me.

Well, for any of you who are still in the dark about Israel, the following two pictures might shed a little more light on the winter we've just had - it wasn't all shorts and flip-flops, trust me. The first shows the Sea of Galilee (known here as 'the Kinneret') before winter, the second shows a recent shot. That's quite a refill...

Before


After

I can't do that...can I?

This weekend seems to have gone as quickly as it came.

Mrs. anglosaxy pretty much took control of proceedings, showing me how 'it's done' over here. It seems that whenever hunger strikes, she can snap her fingers and 'Hey Presto!', food will magically appear. It all started yesterday; mrs. anglosaxy had got back from her Friday morning stint at work, and fancied some of her mother's cooking [not that I would have said 'no', her mother is a great cook]. Anyway, after informing me of her hunger, she promptly called her mother and ordered some of whatever she was cooking. Whatever it was, it was bound to me much better than my attempt at pasta. The next thing I knew, I was being bundled off to pick up the 'package'. Sheepishly knocking on her mother's door, I entered, cap in hand, explaining (and apologising) that I had come to pick up food and was then going to do a runner. I was a little embarrassed, though I was repeatedly informed by both mother and daughter that 'this is Israel and it's OK'...still takes some getting used to, this Israel malarky, even after a few years...

Today, mrs. anglosaxy decided to rearrange the bedroom. Or, maybe I should put it like this: she ordered me to move the bed over here and then put the side cupboard over there. After working up a hunger (?), she then decided that she fancied some more of yesterday's fine offerings. This time, my Britishness took over and I refused to be her messenger boy (besides, Arsenal were just about to kick off against Blackburn). I really can't be that Israeli, however much I try. It even annoys me that it seems to be taken for granted that the Israeli mother cooks for and coddles her siblings, even after they've long flown the nest. That umbilical cord really needs severing...really...

Friday morning musings

The appalling Madrid bombs yesterday seem to have completely taken over SKY / CNN news. Perhaps it's not on the scale of 9-11 but this is Europe's biggest terrorist incident since Lockerbie. And yet again, it's the innocent that are cruely wiped out, with victims from 11 different countries, on their daily trip to work. Something that is all too familiar over here, of course...

OK.

Have you ever caught yourself from sending an email to the wrong person? Perhaps you clicked 'Reply to all' instead of 'Reply', but then realised you had a whole bunch of extra recipients? Well, this girl managed to click the 'Reply to all' and subsequently include all her boyfriend's work colleagues in an 'intimate' response to one of his emails. This is bad enough. Imagine what it would be like if the media got hold of it, and then decided to run the story...

Something I might have to incorporate in my future English lessons:
"As businesses warn that teenagers use so much street and mobile phone slang that they are becoming unemployable, test yourself on modern English." Take the test.

Nappy anyone?

This place is fast resembling The Office (which will soon be making a rerun on BBC Prime over here)...this morning I had a 6-month old baby crawling between the legs of my chair, while gurgling and screaming every time I started to get my head around something particularly complex. Then, of course, her mother decided to lop out her boob in an effort to instill a bit of order and to keep her daughter's mouth occupied, so I had to avert my eyes from a particular area in the corridor (easier said than done) for a few minutes...nice trick with the boob, I've taken notes...

And all of this on a couple of hours sleep thanks to some Haman's Ear cookies (the Israelis amongst you will know what I'm talking about), some cookies unique to this time of the year (the Purim holiday). While tending to a very sick, bed-ridden mrs. anglosaxy, I thought I'd treat myself to a few of these cookies with a nice, cold, glass of beer, while happy to have control over the remote for a change, especially on Champions League night. It wasn't until 4 o'clock in the morning that the heartburn hit, but shit, it hit me hard. I spent the rest of the night/morning drinking tea and curled up on the sofa with the dog. Anyone got a good cure for heartburn? I'm still feeling it...

Sushi and Mice

There I was, slumped over my computer, frustratingly clicking away with my mouse while trying to plug the gaps of information in chapter 6 of one of our user guides, when in he walked - the sushi delivery guy. Perfect timing: my stomach was already writing letters to the PM in protest! So here I am, chopsticks in one hand, mouse in the other, stuffing my face with some fairly decent sushi. It's all a bit yuppyish I know, but I bloody love this stuff! And to get it delivered to your desk...us hi-techers know how to live eh (except for the 2-metre chain attached to my ankle that doesn't let me leave my desk until the moon is high in the night sky...)?

I'm stuffing my face a little ealier than usual because I have to drive over to Rishon Letzion (about 20 minutes away) in an hour or so and teach young 'Y' the ins and outs of prepositions...but I really enjoy lessons with her, she's a great kid and we usually both end up laughing out loud at some of the stuff she comes out with. I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I enjoy teaching kids more than adults - especially if the adults are beginners. And I mean beginners - not even ABC literate. They are a bit of a struggle; while they are impatient to start talking English, they don't realise they need some basic vocabulary to hold a conversation...*sigh*

Happy Birthday, Esteemed Forebear!

45 again, eh? Don't forget to check your email!
mrs. anglosaxy and myself send loads of birthday wishes and kisses (that'll be her...)!

Partying continues...

These guys know how to celebrate Purim in style. I wonder what it would have been like having them in my local...especially when I'd spill the beans about my less than kosher roots...

"police in the Old City received a call about intoxicated Ultra-Orthodox who were attacking passersby in the Jewish Quarter" - sounds way too Monty Python...

Though in their defence (in their mission to be unable to distinguish between Haman and Mordechai), I have to admit when I get pissed I can hardly tell the difference between mrs. anglosaxy and the dog, so I know how they feel. "Shorry mate, hicc, are you, hicc, Haman or Morder - hicc - chai?"

A long day today be, I have a couple of lessons this evening after work, could be an 11 o'clock finish...

Office Purim shindig

We've just come down from the roof where we had a Purim get-together. A few stars really invested in their costumes and deserved their prizes, the majority of us were lazy sods and couldn't even be bothered to put on the masks they had given us earlier this morning...I did start with my 'Deer' mask and some tinsel tastefully strewn about my person, but saw the lethargic response so called it quits. After being bored by the CEO about our 'astonishing success', it was time to, er, 'party'. Me and O made a beeline for the bottles of wine but, of course, it was the cheap and nasty stuff, so we didn't end up slapping the CEO on the back or start strutting 'the Funky Chicken'...probably a good thing really.

Drinkie-poos anyone?

Today it's fairly quiet in the office, lots of people obviously have kids and are taking them to various Purim festivities throughout the land...in honour of today's festivities, in which the partaking of alcohol is encouraged, I have sent the picture below to our company's 'suggestion box' (like they ever listen...). Water cooler conversations will never be the same again...

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Today was a pretty relaxing day, including teaching mrs. anglosaxy some of the finer points of the English language and watching some English footie on the TV...but then mrs. anglosaxy's brother and his entourage decided to pay a visit. Uh-oh.

We immediately went into emergency mode with sirens blazing and flak-jackets hastily thrown on...and then they were here! The entourage included their 3 kids, aged 2, 7 and 9 (hence the flak-jackets). Though lovable in their own little ways, I seriously doubt my ability to have 3 kids of my own running through the house...and not throttle one of them to death. Seriously, those of you with kids, you have my upmost respect...once the blitzkrieg was over, mrs. anglosaxy set to with the broom (not a common sight, believe me) and we worryingly contemplated a future with little ones hanging on to our legs, wiping snot on our trousers and trying to piggy-back the dog...waaaaaahhhhh!!

Hi-tech - land of debauchery...

Well, last night's late-night talk with O turned a little more saucy than I anticipated. We have a pretty good working relationship, us office rebels, and often end up working late together, plenty of jokes and bitching at our other colleagues and bosses. I'm not sure how we got started, but our last half-an-hour together in the office turned into tales of sexual preferences...and I was very surprised to find out that she 'batted for the other side'. Her youthful days at university were days, or rather nights, of experimenting (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more...)...and I sheepishly grinned at the amount of information she was willing to divulge. A little too much information. Trouble is, her invitation to bring mrs. anglosaxy along to her favourite Ruskie bar has taken on a whole new meaning...

Israel: the only country where...

...Scuds arrive from Iraq, Katyushas from Lebanon and suicide bombers from the Palestinian Authority BUT a 3 bedroom-apartment still costs more than in Paris.

...the cross country highway stops in the middle of the country.

...the unemployed strike.

...a typical Israeli meal consists of an Arab salad, Rumanian kebab, and Iraqi pita bread.

...the man with the open, stained shirt is the honourable minister, and the one next to him with the suit and tie is his chauffeur.

...Moslems sell holy memorabilia to Christians and get paid with Jewish currency.

...children leave home at 18 but are still there at 25.

...no woman gets along with her mother, but talks to her at least three times a day.

...the rich belong to the socialist left, the poor to the capitalist right and the middle class pays for all of them.

...a communications satellite was sent to the sky, but where nobody really knows how to communicate with each other.

...most of its citizens can't explain why they live there, but they have a lot of reasons why they can't live elsewhere.

The above was largely extracted from an article by Ephraim Kishon, though I have modified it here and there...cheers Liza for the article.

Get me some coffee!

I'm in sluggish mode this morning, in need of a strong cup of coffee. Trouble is, I don't have the energy to walk the 30 corridor metres to the kitchen...yesterday ended up being a LONG day - after finishing work at 7.30 I drove over to Rosh Ha'ayin (yep, that hole again!) for 2 English lessons...made it back home at 11.30...though I do like it when they ply me with beers during the lesson, I might have to write that in as a prerequisite...

Nice bit of man-management in corridor land: my boss, who is married to the company CEO (talk about job security...), decided to lay down the law yesterday and insisted that we all come in before 9am. She decided to lay down these new laws in front of all my department, when it is only relevant to O and myself - everybody else comes in before 9am. Funny thing is, she had a meeting with me the day before, and a meeting with O an HOUR before, and hadn't said a thing. Now, if my boss feels that coming in at 9.15-9.30 is 'way too late', how do I describe those extra hours, without pay, I sometimes put in...way too much? And why in front of the whole department? Massaging one's ego, some might say...Well, my motivation and productivity levels are at an all-time high now, and as for the 9am starts, me and O are in solidarity (her communist, Pioneer roots are having a strong influence!), we are the company anti-establishment rebels and aren't having any of it...

This'll explain my fascination with Penelope Cruz...

I'm Spain!

You like rain on the plain, as well as interesting architecture and a diverse number of races and religions. You like to explore a lot, but sailing, especially in large groups, never really seems to work out for you. Beware of pirates and dictators bearing bombs. And for heavens' sake, stop running around bulls! It's just not safe!

Take the Country Quiz.

NOTE: You'll get different questions each time you try this out.

This work malarky

Oooo-er...it's a bit wierd this coming in every day to work, not sure I like it. My boss has just come out with: "Wow, it's strange to see you every day!". Even stranger for me darling, even stranger for me...

I've only been a few months part-time but it's already difficult getting up early and scrubbing oneself clean 2 mornings in a row. And I was almost getting used to watching the breakfast TV crap that Israeli TV has to offer...addicted is way too strong a word, my standards haven't slipped that much...

Anyway, cheers for the feedback on Rosh Ha'ayin. I know it's a hole. At the moment it's an option we're considering...but [whispering softly] if it's down to me, and let's face it guys, it always is, then we'll be off to sunnier (well, different...) shores sooner rather than later, just don't tell the missus. She still doesn't realise that that's what she really wants. [/whispering softly]

March-ing on...

Blimey, March already! And what with the current heatwave, it already feels like summer's arrived. Personally, I love Israeli winters, the summers here get a bit monotonous - six months of solid sunshine used to make me salivate but now I miss the odd drop of rain. Then again, knowing that in the coming week you're guaranteed sun and blue skies is a great bonus, you can freely plan any BBQ or trip without worrying about the weather...I was cleaning the BBQ over the weekend, I'll have to start thinking about getting some meat in...

I was a little disappointed this morning. I expected to walk in to the office and have an array of chocolates from which to choose. Alas, they decided that they'll start the Giants and Dwarves thing next week. I was kinda counting on that input of sugar...

Us anglosaxiesare seriously considering moving house. The only problem is, where? We're thinking about Rosh Ha'ayin, where we'd get seriously good value for money, or staying in Tel Aviv. We need a bigger place, as I'm thinking about having my own in-house classroom, but Tel Aviv is expensive. I also think we need a serious change of scenery, and, as mrs. anglosaxy is against my idea of Japan or South Korea, Rosh Ha'ayin might just be the winner. Anybody out there from Rosh Ha'ayin?

Anyway, whatever the developments in this area, they'll have to wait until April - March is gonna be one long month...got a ton of work here, I'm pretty sure 12-14 hour days are going to be the norm. Waa-aaa-aaaa!