The art of finding (and eating) free food

My “euphoric state” (I’m easy to please) at having only my second real meal (real=non-sandwich/non-humuus+pita) this week prompts this post. Even though I’m still in the dumps for so many reasons, there is a reason why comfort food is called such that it seems a shame not to dedicate a blog post about it.

If there is any skill which graduate school has perfected (no, not writing whatever scholarship), it is finding free food around a huge campus. Though it is mainly about sustenance, and at times, even survival, finding free food is about the skillful navigation of event calendars of not one, not two but several departments and professional schools comprising the university (sheer distance precludes me from making the long trek to the med and business schools). It means being constantly plugged in the relevant mailing lists and being alert for the occasional email from the admin people announcing leftovers. The tricky part is to make sure this hunt does not reek of desperation, like you just happened to stroll by and somebody invited you or that you were there mainly for the content and everything else (food mostly) is just a bonus. But who are we kidding?

I put that skill to use this evening. I attended the cocktail/dinner part of today’s event, a 25th year celebration of the Civil Liberties Law Fellows Program, a joint project of the New Israel Fund and the American University Washington College of Law at the Rabin Center over at Rokach Blvd. near Tel Aviv University. (To my Israeli friends who insist everyone in Israel understands English – the cab driver doesn’t speak or understand it, the AM/PM store clerk didn’t understand me yesterday, the SuperPharm cashier didn’t understand what I was trying to say and I’ve already been to two restaurants/cafes where there are no English menus). But I digress. I didn’t exactly crash this event but I wasn’t invited either. I just rsvp’d without an invitation – but hey its a general invitation to the human rights community and I work for an NGO so that should be good enough.

The balcony of the Rabin Center was filled with the who’s who of the Israeli human rights community. It looked more like a spiffy, high-society kind of gathering with tall cocktail tables, a jazz band playing in the background, and ambient lamps and plants around than a celebration of public interest lawyering. From where I come from, human rights activists were the scruffy types. Anyhow, I went there, courtesy of my fellow HLS student Daniel, who came all the way from Jerusalem to attend the day-long seminar, which I didn’t attend. We smiled and made acquaintances like naturals. We also had a nice conversation with an NIF couple. For me however, it really was just like this:

Cab going to the Rabin Center: 23 NIS

Grilled skewered salmon & mushroom risotto dinner: priceless.

Of course, the jazz singer just had to end the event by singing, of all songs in the world, We are the world, we are the children. But who cares? Pasta on tomatoes & cream, red pepper quiches, meringues, brownies, salmon sliders and eggplant on skewers were all there for me to taste! Oh, there were lots of speeches too. The US Ambassador to Israel, James Cunningham, wasn’t impressive at all though. He just recited the history of American civil rights, starting from the Dred Scott decision to the election of Barack Obama. In any case, this summer adventure is giving me lots of insights on how things work in Israeli civil society. But that will be for another post.

I also never seem to run out of strange encounters. On my bus ride home, a Chinese couple boarded the bus and suddenly the woman was talking to me in Hebrew. It certainly didn’t sound Chinese to me. Being the only Asian wherever I go in Israel is an attention-catcher, it seems. And when I told her that I don’t understand what she was saying and that I only speak English, she gave me this weird not-so-happy look, as if she thought I was just pretending to not understand her. I just shrugged, and got off at the next stop.

Oh well, good night.