Journey into Zionism: A catalogue of my favorite Israeli goods

Israel does a lot of things right. Take, for example, the shower situation. Many years ago some ingenious team of Israeli engineers eliminated the bathtub entirely and simply placed a faucet over a drain in the middle of a room with a toilet on one side. No useless ceramic fixture, no slippery floor, and no tangled up shower curtain all up in my grill. I mean seriously, who even takes baths anymore? I haven't used a bathtub since I was practically a zygote. You just do your business, squeezie the floor, and pat yourself on the back for washing yourself in the most efficient fashion known to mankind.

Exhibit B: the amazingly productive public school system. The national unions of students and teachers have developed their own method of generating attention for their complaints and demands: the students and/or staff go on strike and organize a region-wide walkout at least once every few weeks. No joke, nothing says "we want longer school days" like a news headline that reads "all students in Kiryat Shmonah on strike tomorrow." Works for me, 'cuz then I get extra time to catch up on my medical studies, namely Scrubs and Grey's Anatomy.

And let’s not forget the grocery store lunchtime buffet! Scratch that, I meant produce section. No, wait, I meant buffet. You see, there's kind of an unspoken rule that if it isn't wrapped in paper or plastic, it's fair game for munching on while shopping. The other day I was trying to hide a piece of dried pineapple under my sleeve when I noticed a girl about my age nonchalantly eating a banana. A few minutes later, in the dairy section, I caught her devouring an apple! And then, in the checkout line, a pear! The only thing stopping me from partaking in the feeding festivities is that I'm slightly worried about eating unwashed Middle Eastern produce - explosive shilshul just doesn’t look good on me.

Then there's the scented toilet paper. Nothing can be said to explain this innovative product besides "awesome." Straight from G-d's hand to your...um, anyway.

But the one thing Israel completely missed the boat on is central heating, and by that I mean it just doesn't exist. Instead we have the revolutionary object known as the "space heater," which comes in two main varieties: the hot air fan and the upright coil fixture. As I've been informed, the former is usually used in bedrooms, while the latter is bigger and generally placed in a corner of a common area where the warmth can project and swivel in every direction within a one-meter radius.

Here's the thing. The heat fans don't use thaaat much electricity, but maybe it's a little much for the decades-old wiring in our slummy apartment. My roommate was reading a book on her bed last week when she noticed some smoke seeping through the outlet cracks. She pulled the plug just in time for the burnt metallic prongs to disintegrate through her fingers, as we all shed some tears at the frightening thought that we almost burned down our beloved home in K Shmo.

Did we learn a lesson from that unnerving experience? A mere five hours later, as the two of us sat on our couch, knitting scarves and watching bad TV, I looked away from my needle sticks and realized that my slipper appeared to be smoking. It wasn't quite on fire, but apparently the six inches of breathing room between my foot and the space heater weren't enough - the rubber sole of my slipper had started melting from the sheer intensity of the heat, which mind you is barely enough to melt an ice cube. It's unfortunate, because I'm not about to spend another 30 shekels on slippers that I can only wear for the 6-week winter season.