The police check at Tel Aviv Airport takes a long time because I openly declare that I want to become a Jew and that I don’t have a home address.

The faint hope of being picked up by an angel at the airport is not fulfilled.

The taxi driver laughs at me when I tell him to go to Mea Shearim to the Rechow Jona. He suggests the Hotel Lev Yeruschalayim (Heart of Jerusalem) to me, which I accept.