One of the greatest things about being in Israel is the abundance of amazing hummos places. These small restaurants sometimes serve foods other than hummos, but many times it’s the main course. The hummos here is different than in the US. It’s smooth & creamy, with actual garbanzo or other beans in tact.

Of course, as a tourist I have found myself in a number of the highest quality hummos places here. Places that can be compared to In-N-Out burger in California…there’s always a line and they never disappoint.

But if you come in after 1 PM, you might not get any food at all.

In the morning, the restaurants make a good amount of hummos. When they run out, the restaurant closes. The owners know that their product is amazing, and they know they could sell just about any amount that they make, but they don’t. This is amazing to me.

This is a mindset one rarely sees in the US. The common line of thought is that if you’re selling out today, then tomorrow you should sell out more. The thing is, the fact that these restaurants sell out every day actually helps their brand. People are willing to stand in line in the heat, and come earlier than they would have liked…just to have some of that great hummos.

Anyway, this was an inspiring situation to me. A business that strived not just for money, but for balance as well.

“Ding!” And immediately the belts were undone. Ten of them, at least, simultaneously unlatched. One man shoots up, his tsitsit swaying, as he opens up the bin above his head to pull out his suitcase. A woman next to me opens her overhead bin, and down fall blankets on to Eyttan’s head and lap.

It’s just these little things, I remember, that remind me I’ve left my place of comfort. I’m going somewhere old, but still new. What will I find, and what will I refind? Will memories of 7 year ago awaken, or lie dormant? Who knows. But I am headed away, to an unfamiliar place that I might like, or might not. My head leads me in one direction, but will my heart advise another?

We’ve hit 10,000 feet, and already I know I’m no longer home.