What does it mean to be an Israeli? I don’t really know. There are about ten million options, but none of them is telling the whole story, not even one half of it. An Israeli is someone who knows that when another Israeli says “trust me” or “believe me” he should never believe or trust the guy who said it.

An Israeli eats watermelon, and he can go to the end of the world and still look for his cottage cheese.

An Israeli will ask you to let him in first on the line in the super because he had only two items, but then his wife join him with a cart full of products.

An Israeli knows you, or someone who knows you, or someone that was in bed with you. There are only three degrees of separation in Israel.

An Israeli don’t smoke on a shabbat, but he drives hundreds of kilometers.

An Israeli is someone who judge a new place by the clouds. It is not just the weather. He doesn’t want anything to obscure himself from God.

An Israeli is a moment I had experienced in one of the holy days last week: from one window of our flat in Tel Aviv we could have hear the religious students singing songs about Shabbat and Sukut. From the other window we could here the endless track of a trance party.