At Momo’s Hostel

a 12 shekel bed came with a breakfast of coffee, toast and jam. The toast was a slice of very enriched white bread and the jam was a liquidy sugary neon pink substance that tasted like, well, neon pink. As I enjoyed breakfast, I looked around the walls of the common room. This was the late 80’s and hostel walls in Israel tended to be filled with graffiti, most of it earnest and political, quoting Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Sartre and Sinatra, or Gandhi. As I followed the scribbles around the room, I reached a clenched solidarity fist framed by the battle cry “Free Mandela!“. Underneath, in a more feeble scratch was this other quotation:

”The jam could be better.”

...I had found my mantra...a mantra for unlofty goals...