French men, eh. What to do! So charming. I think it's the way they kiss each other g'bye, on both cheeks. They are also rather pretty. There are a ton of French men in Israel, which means my French is improving in leaps and bounds while my Hebrew grammar is all awry. If only I'd paid better attention in French GCSE instead of experimenting with how long it takes, on average, to get thrown out of class every Monday morning.

My mum rang me earlier to say shabbat shalom, asked all the usual questions, had a nice family catch up. Then she asked me if I was happy - as if she wasn't sure. It hadn't occurred to me that my parents might actually wonder if I was happy here. Even though every day as an Olah I encounter obstacles, frustrations and really, really weird people, I haven't regretted my decision for a second.