From june 20 to august 10.
I had hoped to join a kibbutz, but somehow communication didn't work: I'd arrive at one (sent by the central office in Tel Aviv) only to be told I had to leave because a group of volunteers would arrive the next day.
Then, I landed in Tel Aviv's youth hostel where I spent all the time until august.
I met with people from 36 different nations; I helped french jews flirt with NYC jews.
But I also became friends with a jewish compatriot who owed lots of money to a previous hotel; he asked me to borrow my money (I didn't know he was doing this to others too and that he was broke), but he ended up in jail and I with no money left. So, I called home and got rescued by my parents.
I resorted then to spend as little money as possible and wait for the next available seat in a plane which I got on august 10th.
I had noticed how short our shadow was, in the Gaza strip which I visited (even drank a turkish coffee) on june 24th.
I remember T shirts with the quote: Israel Is real
I remember the hostel manager holding my US passport, until I'd get my money back.
I remember seeing for the first time a short video sequence of a moonwalk at the American Embassy's library.
I remember the cheap fallafels at noon, the cheesecakes, the beautiful girls until they reach 20 and then gaining weight, I remember the unusually rude boys (towards girls).
And I got a sunburn on my left shoulder that stayed until the next summer.
The great thing was to be able to communicate with people from all over the world.
There was a guy with his bike and just a shirt and hardly anything else: he was traveling around the world. I remember Fumiko, the Asian-African-American girl from LA. She was great!
And I also remember the South African white man discussing arms deals in a hotel room with several Israeli.
I was 22 and looked like the Dutch UN soldiers (all those Israeli girls thought I was a Dutch soldier loaded with money; well....unfortunately).
That was in 1979
Raoul