I know I promised photos, but I forgot to pull out my memory card reader before I left the hotel this morning. So you’ll just have to wait a little longer for pictures. Besides, tomorrow will be my only day off, so you’ll get better photos that the ones taken from my taxi cab.
The whole reason I flew to Tel Aviv was to kick off Phase II of a project where Phase I of said project didn’t go so well. I’m excited to finally put faces to the dozens of names of people that I have communicated with over conference calls and heated email. I have a bit of a reputation for being fierce at work. I don’t give up easily and will negotiate you down to the smallest of detail if I have to. Most of the time, my drive gets work accomplished. When you mix me in with a team of fierce Israelis, well, needless to say we are all a little bumped and bruised from Phase I.
Interestingly enough, despite having a reputation of a bull dog. A respectful bull dog, there has been many a debate about me while I've been here. Or rather, what sort of food I will eat. Everyone assumes that since I am white (or maybe just American or maybe a woman) that I can’t handle the food.
After two days of other people arguing over whether or not I will like the restaurant (mind you, without every asking me personally), I finally had enough. I laughed out loud and the insanity of the situation. And said, jokingly, “I am married to an Indian man. I lived on anything spicy while pregnant. I’m not afraid of what you put in front of me as long as it isn’t chicken feet, monkey brains, or anything that is termed ‘delicacy.’ I have only two more days here and I don’t want to be placated. Just go wherever you regularly go to lunch.”
And you know what? They laughed and then CONTINUED ARGUING over where to go. I know that they want to impress me, that they want to go somewhere special for lunch, that the intent is good natured. But it is hard as hell to be here without a voice. I can’t speak the language, can’t read a menu. If I don’t go with my co-workers, then I don’t eat.
This is one of the most profound lessons in trust (and letting go of control) for me. They have always picked authentic restaurants. I’ve never eaten so well. But I’m still working on the “let others speak for me” lesson. Off to find out what’s for lunch…
