Who knew Spanish would be handy in Israel?

Possibly my least favorite aspect of the areas immediately surrounding the Old City is the presence of groups of little Arab boys who on good days might try to talk to you in broken English (usually with the intent of amusing themselves, not because they want to practice their English), and on bad days will do other things to harass you, like turn a horse into your path. One kid did this to Anna when we were walking near Augusta Victoria hospital back towards Mount Scopus. They're all punks in training, basically, and since they're so small, it's hard to resist the urge to pound some respect into them, but of course it wouldn't do any good. Parents don't care if their kids harass foreigners, and their older brothers are good examples of that. I've had so many marriage proposals in the last four months that I could have collected my own little harem.

Anyway, this is where Spanish comes in. None of them know it, Anna and I do. If they start attempting to talk to us, they usually won't believe I don't speak English at first. But after a few Spanish sentences, possibly a heavily-accented "I do not speak English" if I'm feeling dramatic, they usually go off to mind their own business. We've also found that carrying on conversations in Spanish when we get near shopkeepers in the Old City will sometimes forestall a few sales pitches as well. Genius, I tell you.

Now about my template, I think I'll get around to changing it back sometime, but it takes a freaking year for the whole thing to republish, and I've got class. So you're stuck with the black for right now. :)