Who? 
Dolev and Dvir
Where? 
A sweet little soup restaurant in Jerusalem, Israel 
What? 
"You guys are personified cuteness. Each time I looked at you from across the room I went like aaawwwh! At first I was reluctant to disturb the two of you but eventually the urge to meet you and share my mind was stronger..." 
How did they react? 
"Oh thank you! It is rare for someone to come and compliment you randomly. Really nice! Thanks." We chatted for a bit. I learned that Dolev (on the right) studies philosophy and economics and that Dvir is about to embark on a journey to the US. A few minutes into our conversation Dolev said, "Hey Rosa, do you know what hamud means?" "No.", I answered. Dolev grinned, "Hamud means cute. That word is you!" "Aaawwh!", I laughed, "Now you made me go like that again. Thank you! That's a great word. I'll add it to my Hebrew vocab. One more question: May I take your picture?" "If you are on it, too- sure!" 
How did I feel? 
It started with their eyes. They burst with affection. Lots of affection. For a long time Dolev's and Dvir's glances were the only parts of their bodies to meet. Their looks mirrored more warmth and fondness than Romeo and Juliet's most tender monologues. I tried not to stare at them yet I was unable to resist looking back every now and then. For each time I turned my gaze towards them I was reminded of heavenly hours I had spent on cloud seven myself. 
When one of them talked the other hung on to his every word. When one of them smiled the other seemed to sink into the look of that mouth as if its lifted corners were holding him gently. And when, finally, after what seemed like hours, one of them brought his foot to touch the other's I caught myself letting out a sigh. I realized I had been waiting for that touch as though I had been sitting on one of their chairs myself. Finally, another eternity later, their hands found each other. The whole process was like a snail's progress. Tracking the movements is impossible. They are too smooth and slow. But if you stick around you will notice a relocation over time. 
No, I am not a stalker. At least I hope so. And no, neither were they the kind of couple whose public smooch smacks and dirty talk makes you want to say, "Get a room." 
All they were was exceptionally cute. That's it. Sweetening the space around them their infatuation was a gift. Both of their calm, respectful gentleness shone through their movements when eating dinner, drinking wine and playing back gammon afterwards. 
That picture, the two of them dwelling in their little paradise, has a page in my inner picture book called "Beautiful Moments" now. It sounds like this:

Who? 
Efrat
Where? 
Jerusalem, Israel 
What? 
"When you speak about things that move you your feelings are all over your eyes. It is super beautiful to see." 
How did she react? 
"Yeah, I have heard that before... That my eyes display my feelings, I mean. Thank you!", she smiled. 
How did I feel? 
The eyes are a window to the soul. No, this statement is not a corny proverb. Not in this case. When it comes to Efrat the eyes are a window to the soul comes as an on point description. I have only seen the brisk lady twice in my life, but I know one thing for sure: The look in Efrat's eyes can shower you with a feeling on the spot. The night I met her in Jerusalem I experienced it twice. Once when she shared how someone dear to her had gotten injured in the army (it was like she hit a switch: Coming from her eyes I felt pain approach me, enter my body and spread with split seconds. Just because she was not afraid to wear hers all over her expression.) And once when my friend Theresa said, "You should just come to Berlin." This time around, instead of bursting with pain, her eyes fired a round of excitement, like a little girl who has just been granted a castle to live in, a zoo full of her favorite animals and unlimited television watching. Too good to be true. Again, her emotions jumped over instantly. I felt my heart beat faster and a grin occupy my face. Receiving that insight from Efrat meant getting a full course of aliveness. It was dreamy. Thanks, Efrat, for sharing your mind and heart as freely! 
Anything else?
Yes! The night I met Efrat was a big one for her. She had just won the casting for a post-graduate training as an opera singer in Tel Aviv that day. If you happen to be in Israel you should keep your ears and eyes open, and go see her if you are into opera. She sings marvelously. Congrats again, Efrat!

I challenge you: Find the red cat in the last picture. 

Who? 
Daniel* 
Where? 
Jerusalem, Israel 
What? 
"Thank you for your honesty. I really appreciate it." 
How did he react? 
"Thank you for your questions! I like them." 
How did I feel? 
I met Daniel in a gay club. The dance floor was 7 square meters. Drops of water came dripping off the ceiling. Song by song they became more until they turned into a full on rain. For hours we danced our lives away to hits like Womanizer, I Kissed A Girl And I Liked It, and Oops I Did It Again. The topless men’s sweaty abs around us looked just like the photos of oiled bodies that decorated the walls. In Germany dancing with someone means moving in the same direction and sincerely touching each other’s outer limbs. In many cases at least. In Jerusalem dancing together means sex on the dance floor. To a German like me at least. There was a lot of Jerusalem dancing that night. However moving with Daniel was different. Very physical, too, but more careful. Yet not the least bit less ecstatic: While he clapped his hands and swayed his hips his expression looked like a little boy's who has just been granted a truckload of his favorite candy. Total bliss. 

At some point we left the bundle of bodies. Daniel offered me a cigarette from his tobacco. I sat down next to him. He wore a sweater, jeans and sneakers. On top of his head there was nothing but his hair. No hat or Kippah. However when I asked him what he was doing in life I figured he was religious. His job was closely related to Judaism*. He explained his work to me and showed me pictures of it on his phone. Excitement glowed in his eyes and his voice pitched higher as he said, “And look, here, this is what I am working on right now-...” While I watched his pointer stroke the display of his phone I suddenly realized this was the first time I was having a conversation with a religious Jew. Ever.** I looked at him, “Daniel, you are religious, no?” “Yeah. I am.”, he answered. “But where is your Kippah?” He grinned, “I left it at home. I don’t always wear it. I believe in adjusting the rules, you know…”  “I see. But do you pray?” He nodded, “Sure! We do that three times a day.” “Yeah, I know. That’s so impressive.”, I paused, then added, “Hey, can I ask you something?” He shrugged, “Of course!”. “What is it about Judaism that makes you feel at home? As in, what makes you go like, this is the right thing for me. I am in the right place.” Daniel perked his eyebrows up. “Phew, that’s a tough one. I mean especially since I have no idea where this is coming from in you. Do you believe in something?”, I smiled, “I’ll tell you afterwards. I think it’s more interesting if you don’t know about my beliefs. Just know that I don’t judge.” I looked at him. He remained silent. I added, “And, obviously, that you don’t have to answer. I understand if you feel it is too personal.” Daniel shook his head, “No, it’s fine. Just a second. I’m thinking.” For a few breaths we sat and watched three guys in leather jackets pass a joint in front of us. Then Daniel said, “Okay. Basically it is two things. First, the community. The way Jewish people help each other. There are very strong bonds among us, no matter the grade of religiousness. Having a network like that makes me feel safe. I know I’ll never be lonely with all these people bolstering me up.” I nodded. “I get that, yeah. Community is the most important thing ever…” Daniel smiled. Then he said, “And second: Shabbat. I keep Shabbat. That means for instance, I don’t use electricity, I go to the synagogue, all that. But my favorite part of Shabbat is Shabbat dinner. No one is on their own for that. Being alone for Shabbat dinner is the saddest thing. You always spend Friday night with your family, friends or whoever- someone you like to be around.” “Totally. That is a wonderful idea.”, I added, “I am convinced a place like Berlin could use a Shabbat. You know, a Berlin weekend consists of 70 hours of dancing and drinking on drugs. That’s what many people finish off their crazy work week with. Not everyone and not always. But it is what the city is famous for. I don’t think that should be forbidden but I do long for something that slows everyone down every now and then. Like Shabbat. To me it sounds like a reset for a computer. You take a break from all distractions and reconnect with what and who you actually care about in life. That’s what I imagine it to be like.” Daniel agreed, “That’s what it is.” I smiled, “Thank you for your honesty and openness! I really appreciate it.” He smiled back and answered, “You are welcome! Thank you for your questions. I like them.” Then he asked me, “Are you religious?” I slowly shook my head, then nodded, then laughed. Eventually I said, “It’s complicated. I was not raised religious. But my mom is a musician and when I was a kid there were all these baroque pieces playing from her room all day. They have Christian lyrics. That’s how I connected with Christianity. Later on I went to a Christian school and volunteered in the church later on, so yeah, I did consider myself Christian for a while there. I still feel something when I enter a church. However I feel something, too, in a synagogue and other holy places. I like Buddhist and Hinduist ideas, and I am currently fascinated by a Sufi poet. This guys’ words really move me. In short: I do believe divinity exists, but I wouldn’t limit it to one single religion. I believe that god exists in people. In everyone. I think we all have god inside. There is moments when I am more connected to that feeling and moments when I sense it less. For example I connect when I teach Yoga. Or, you know, when you are deeply in love and you look into the other person’s eyes. That’s one of these moments when you just know god exists.” Daniel grinned, “Alright… And do you have a practice, like praying?” I answered, “Yeah. Kind of. Yoga. And meditation.” “You do Yoga?” “Yes!”, I said, “It’s my job, I teach Yoga, and it’s my favorite thing in the world.” now I was the one to speak with a high-pitched voice. Daniel said, “Wait a second, I learned something once, a breathing exercise. Can you tell me what it is good for? I have been wondering about that forever.” “I can try, sure.” “So you breath into the count of five. You hold your breath, same, counting to five, then you exhale, counting again. Then you repeat. Three things, inhale, hold, exhale, all for five counts.” “That’s a cool one”, I said, “Here’s what I learned about it: Apart from the physical and psychological benefits of slowing down the breath the spiritual idea behind that kind of breathing is this: In- and exhaling you experience life in its mortal form. Duality, movement, time, you know, like black and white, right and wrong, up and down, becoming and passing away. Differences, variety. All that. The breathing moves through your body, like everything moves and changes through time. That’s one side of it. The other side appears when you hold your breath. In Yoga that is called Kumbhaka. In Kumbhaka you experience stillness. Emptiness. Maybe oneness. Nothing moves. The opposite, or other side, of diversity. Oneness. Eternity. That’s the idea behind it put in a very simple way.” Daniel, who had been listening closely, nodded, “Thank you! That’s really interesting. So do you practice Yoga every day?” “I try to. But if I honestly don’t feel like it I don’t.” “For how long?” “Most times, 60 to 90 minutes. Sometimes less.” “Woah”, Daniel cried, “That’s a lot!” I shrugged, “I always feel better afterwards. And you know, it’s up to me. If I don’t want to do it, I don’t. Sometimes there is 3, 4 days in which I don’t practice. But at some point I’ll miss it.” He grinned, “Yeah, I can relate.” Suddenly I heard a shout, “Hey, guys!”, Daniel’s friend was standing in the club’s door. He approached us. “You should come inside! They are playing Rihanna! It’s awesome in there!” He had reached us and took my hand. “Come! Now! You’ve been out here way too long.” I laughed, “Alright…” Daniel said, “I will finish this cigarette.” Daniel’s friend pulled me up and dragged me towards the door. Daniel told me, “It’s fine, I’ll see you inside.” I asked, “Are you sure?” “Yeah!”. I looked at him. Before I turned around I took in the expression in his eyes. I saw warmth, lightness and humor. And I realized: I had just received another moment for my collection of encounters in which I feel connected to divinity. Spending time with Daniel fell into that category. The way we had listened, really listened, and talked to each had flipped a switch inside of me. I had left the club feeling like I needed oxygen and a break from everyone. After hanging out with Daniel I felt connected, peaceful and happy. Grateful for that experience I turned around. As I passed two tattooed guys who almost fell over making out I prepared myself for the sound of Rihanna’s voice, thirty sweaty bodies and countless crazy dance moves inside.

*Real name and personal information withheld **The reason, I guess, is I was born and raised in and near Berlin. Despite the fact that a lot of Israelis are currently moving to my hometown there is still a minus of 348 000 Jewish people in Germany today compared to 1933. Back then there were 503 000, today there are 119 000. Those 119 000 are definitely not visible in the same way they are in Jerusalem. In Berlin I see a kippah on the street once every couple of months, sometimes even years. Not a single time have I seen a hat and payot (side curls) there. Although I do have Jewish friends in the US (most of who define being Jewish merely as having an awesome party called bar mizwa when they are young) I don’t have a single Jewish friend in Berlin. And I have never in my life spoken with a religious Jew. Figuring how much of an impact the holocaust still has in that way gives me the creeps.

Who?
Inbar
Where?
Jerusalem, Israel
What?
"I love your dress. It's super pretty. Look at that blue! And the color just goes on and on with those leggings underneath the dress. Really nice."
How did she react?
"Oh, thank you! That's so sweet! I love your project!" She got up and gave me a hug. 
How did I feel?
Inbar treated my eyes, my belly and my heart. My eyes because she was a feast for those with her sweet smile and her pretty dress. My belly because this one sighed once I filled it with Inbar's dreamy coffee. And my heart because I could not have hoped for a warmer welcome to Jerusalem than her friendliness. Her hug felt like a little showerleft the caffeine oasis she works at and strolled around the neighborhood for a while. If you happen to be in Jerusalem this is where you can find Inbar and her coffee creations and sit in the sun: 

Anything else?
When I started this project I promised to turn this page into a travel blog at times. So here you go: My impressions of Jerusalem day number one.

Tomatoes taste sweeter than chocolate. In front of my window there is a palm tree. Ads and posters trigger curiosity: Hebrew looks like a maze from the quiz page to me. The language sounds like people are softly stroking their throats. Humus is paradise. The soldier's guns are the biggest I have ever seen in real life. Rays of sunlight throw the spotlight on street art. The synagogue, located in a corner store, fits twelve men. Their ever nodding heads make for a choreography. Cats scavenge in dumpsters. The smells at the market are more appetizing than a look on a five star restaurant's menu. I overhear teenagers on Birthright fighting over secret imports back to the US. Fresh herbs or Halva? One suggests the "awesome falafel sandwich we had yesterday!". Their tour guide explains his vision of a unified Israel to us. Each time he laughs his freckles smile along. An orthodox lady begs for money. A clerk praises his pastries. I close my eyes. There is a honking fest going on on the street. "S'leexa, s'leexa!", someone touches my shoulder. A girl sings. 


More pictures to come! Laila tov.

Who?
Jess
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
Her: "You have a super positive attitude and radiance. It is uplifting to be around you."
Me: "Thanks a lot! I appreciate that. I admire your pofessionality! You are all chatty, you make jokes, you drink your coffee- but as soon as the camera is rolling you are one hundred percent focused, on the spot. Your level of concentration is stunning."
Her: "Thank you! Thanks. Okay, my turn. Your freckles are super sweet! They look really cute."
Me: "Oh, thanks! That's great to hear, for as a kid I really did not like them at all. Now I do but still, it's nice to hear that from someone. Okay, my turn: I love the way you move. Your gait is real and authentic and at the same time you look like a dancer when you walk down the street."
Her: "That's a special one. Thank you. Thanks! That I have not heard before. Thanks again. Really. Okay. I'm next. I think you are a good friend. After we met Karen, your friend earlier I am sure you are very true and caring with the ones you love."
Me: "Thanks... I hope I am. I try to be. Yeah. Thanks. Alright: You have a great humor. Sharp, spontaneous, light- I like hanging with you for all the laughs we share."
Her: "Haha, thanks! I love that you are doing this project, making other people happy, it is amazing to see that there is still someone who does selfless things!" 
Me: "Thank you. I have to say though, it is not entirely selfless. I am doing it because it makes me happy, more than anything else... Anyways, here you go: Your speaking Spanish is music to my ears. Sooo beautiful!"
Her: "Oh, thanks! That's cool. I love the way you laugh. You have a super open smile."
Me: "Thanks! Your energy level is insane! You overflow with activity, so much in fact that just talking to you I am already more energetic than usually. If I were you I would probably be exhausted after just an hour of being awake but you just go on and on."
How did I feel?
Towards the end of a fun day together Jess and I were asked to pay each other five compliments. At Berlin Hauptbahnhof we stood facing one another, and took turns in sharing our appreciation. I loved the task. It was a new practice: I have given more than one compliment at a time before-- but never five, and neither have I received five in return instantly. As our ping-pong of kudos went on I sensed a process. While her first compliment caused a slight smile and merely stroked my outside her second one already crept its way under my skin. By the time she paid me her fifth I had become all bubbly and warm inside, ready to air-kiss everyone from the Japanese tour group next to us. 
I will definitely do this again!

Who?
Amanjit
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
"Hey, I am doing a project in which I compliment a person a day. Today you are my candidate. I just saw you pass by and I could not take my eyes off of you. You are so insanely pretty!"
How did she react?
She nodded, and said, "Thank you!"  For a moment she hesitated then she asked, "So in that project of yours- do I have to say something in return?"
I laughed, "You already have! And no, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to." 
"Ah, alright. So is this serious? Like honest? Hearing that its part of a project makes me wonder..."
"Yeah, honesty is my only rule. Whatever I say I am not allowed to lie or consciously use the compliment as a means to an end other than expressing what I feel about someone else. So yes, it is totally honest, otherwise I would not have said it." 
"I understand! That sounds really cool! Thanks then! I think it would have been easier for me to receive the compliment if I had not known about your project. For a second there knowing that raised doubts. 
How did I feel?
I loved Amanjit's bluntness! The openness and clarity with which she gave me feedback for the project were stunning, especially since our conversation went down in front of a video camera. 
Though I still enjoyed her lovely looks I was actually more impressed by her critical and smart mindset while we talked with one another. This is something I dig about complimenting strangers: You spot one thing you like about them. You approach them and tell them. As you chat you can almost be certain to discover treasures in them you were unable to detect from far away. Stories, attitude, feelings- whatever piece of inner beauty compliment cadidates share with me, it is always a surprise gift. I receive for praising another part of them. It's a win-win (win win win).
Anything else?
I have contemplated on the argument in Amanjit's critique of my compliment strategy before. Find my thoughts here.

Who?
Gilles
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
"I just caught a glimpse at your expression. Your open, friendly look struck me right away. It was so beautiful to see!"
How did he react?
He nodded, said, "Merci!", and added some French words I did not understand. Apparently they meant, "this makes me feel warm all over!". 
How did I feel?
Have you ever looked into a stranger's eyes and felt you saw their soul? I did with Gilles.
It is a big claim. I know. Nonetheless, for a moment, I was overwhelmed with the friendliness and wisdom I detected in his glance. I felt as though he was a soft, open, polite guy. My impression was so intense I needed to share it with him: I approached him. Greeting him in English I learned he was French and only spoke a little bit of English. My one-year-of-high-school-French did not help and neither did Gilles' head shaking to my question, "German?". i ended up complimenting him in English, unsure whether he understood. His modest nod and "Merci...?" left me wondering still. Had he gotten what I had said? Finally, once my friend translated his words to me, I realized he had received the message after all. When I looked back at him I spotted a slight sparkle in his growing smile. No doubt, he had comprehended my message. 

Who?
Nir and Shay 
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
"You guys are awesome! Listening to your music is so much fun!"
How did they react?
They nodded, "Thanks!" 
How did I feel?
Jazz. Jazz, jazz, jazz. The greatest genre of all times. The hot shit. The real deal. No doubt: Jazz rocks. Or grooves for that matter. Ever wondered what jazz really means? What it is at its core? Here is my definition:
Jazz means fun. Your instrument becomes your playground. And you: An explorer. Every tune you play is a new adventure whose calling reaches out to you from unknown realms.
Jazz means freedom of expression. You put it all out there. Your sounds can be softer than your mom's lullaby when you were little or more brutal than a chain reaction collision on the highway. Or everything in between.
Jazz means intellectuality. Its structures and forms are as logical and profound as Wittgenstein's works. 
Jazz means listening. Real listening. I recently read a quote, "Are you listening to understand or listening to reply?". Listening to understand, everyone in the band listening to understand, that is jazz. 
Jazz means spontaneity. Spontaneity is the opposite of you? Not when it comes to jazz! You may flip each time the subway is a minute late, your friends may have to ask you a month ahead for a beer at a bar, your siblings may call you anal; Playing jazz you metamorphose the second you hear the drummer count in. You allow every impulse. You follow ideas that pop up in your head. Sounds leave your body by themselves. You give in. You let go. You flow.
Jazz means presence. Yoga, meditation, tai chi: Jazz includes them all. This music is ultimate awareness in the moment. 
And: jazz means love. Sometimes sex even. Playing together can be more intimate, unifying and exciting than any conversation or one night stand. While music is known to be a gateway to the soul, jazz is a full on emotional striptease. Because there is improvisation jazz reveals where you are at with no notes or interpretations to hide behind. You get naked. Sounds scary? It is not. Most of the time at least: Whatever you expose there is always chords, rhythms and band members to hold you tight.

Why am I saying all that? Because jazz! 
And: Because I met Nir and Shay yesterday. The two of them were personified jazz. Here is what happened: 
My friend Gur and I stopped our stroll down the Landwehrkanal when we saw them. Busking by the riverside they played standards and some free jazz. I admired their balls for doing the latter. Free jazz is not known to be a crowd favorite. It is too weird, too crazy and too atonal for many listeners I know. Berlin proved me wrong that afternoon: As I watched the audience's faces I realized those people dug free jazz! In their eyes I detected appreciation for Nir and Shay's togetherness, how they listened, breathed, and enjoyed themselves. For the way they let go, invented structures, burst into loudness and played quietly. In short: For their jazz. You know what I mean. 
When Nir and Shay took a break Gur started talking to them. He had figured they were from Israel, just like Gur himself. We all introduced ourselves, Gur told them he was a guitar player, I told them I was a singer. They asked me to sing with them. I was stoked. (In fact I had been secretly wondering whether I could join them: Listening to their music had made me want to play myself pretty bad. However I didn't want to walk in on their twosome.). They asked me whether I knew "On The Sunny Side Of The Street". I said, "Hell yeah!", remembering the countless hours I had spent once upon a time, transcribing and memorizing Sonny Stitt's solo on the Sonny Side Up record to this tune. Back then I had immersed in every note and every chord. What I did not think about: That this had been five years ago. Five long years without ever singing that song again. All I thought in this moment was, "I love this song!", and, "Let's do it!". We agreed on a key and Shay got started on his base. I closed my eyes. Suddenly the situation shifted. My heart started beating faster. I felt nervousness rush through me. I was standing in front of all these people. They expected me to sing. A song whose lyrics, as I now realized, I was not sure I remembered. Not to mention the chords. I clenched my fists. Tried to catch my breath. And -- missed my entry. Nir played the line for me. I jumped in and made it through the first verse. "Grab your coat and take your hat. Leave your worries on the doorsteps, just direct your feet, to the sunny side of the street." Then it left me. Unable to remember the words I opened my eyes. Looking for a way out I decided to improvise the lyrics. "I've forgotten about the words, but that ain't no problem for me, I'll just sing and sing, on the sunny side of the street." Suddenly Nir and Shay switched to the b-part. I stopped and thought, "Right, there was a b-part." I didn't remember the chord progression there, neither the words. Searching for help I looked at Gur. His lips formed the words. I caught one or two but they were not enough. The form finished without me. Eventually I just stood there, snipping my fingers for what felt like hours, waiting for Nir and Shay to finish their solos, so I would get a second shot at singing the chorus. The chorus came. I missed it. And no, I did not magically remember the lyrics once I found my way on board throughout the last form. I stayed lost. 
After the last chord I looked down and said, "Guys, I am so so sorry. I was sure I knew the song. This is embarrassing." "No worries", Nir said. I shook my head, "No, seriously. Please can I get a second chance? I can't leave like that. This is way too bad." "It's all good! But sure. What should we play?" We agreed on a free tune. Nir and Shay looked at each other, "Let's all start together!". I nodded.  We inhaled and started. It was like someone had hit a switch. I gave in. Now there was no form and no lyrics to be remembered. All I had to do was listen. And I did: I followed Nir's line, then liberated my notes from it. Joined him again, went off again. From time to time I floated on top of Shay's beat, then I went against it. I felt like we were moving through worlds we created ourselves. Each time our rhythm and tones changed we opened the door to a new realm. We didn't just walk through those realities, we danced. Sometimes we held each other tight in rhythms and swayed cheek to cheek in tones, sometimes each of us spun by ourselves. But even when there was a mile between us all we were still connected through an invisible string: Through jazz.

Hours later, after I had said goodbye, I realized Shay and Nir had just taught me an additional definition of jazz:
Jazz means no judgement. Sure, where there is a (musical) form there is structure, and where there is structure there are rules. Rules bring judgement. But jazz does not. Before I had even sung the first note of On The Sunny Side Of The Street I had already been absorbed in judging myself and battling my fear of being judged by the audience. This way I had not found jazz. Not for one note. I had merely been clinging to a downward spiral of panic. But once the song was over Nir and Shay were there to assist and teach me. They did so by smiling and nodding, just like they had been doing before. No judging. Instead they said, it's okay. They saw I could not dial myself into jazz through the standard and offered me a different window: Free jazz. 
And it worked. As soon as I felt there was no structure and no secret rules I broke free. The moment I stopped rushing through my mind, looking for the correct Sunny Side Of The Street I found it. Not the lyrics but the sunny side: I left the shade behind and danced my way through a lovely afternoon, the sun shining bright. I immersed in it: In jazz. Jazz, jazz, jazz. The greatest genre of all times. The hot shit. The real deal. 
Thank you, Shay and Nir.

Anything else?
By the way: Talking about The Sunny Side Of The Street- This is what I faced while singing. 

Even more?
By the way: Talking about Israelis: You might have noticed I have been absent here. Although I hardly ever stop the complimenting I had to take a break from writing due to an illness. However I am psyched to feed this blog more regularly again as I am almost back on track and about to get on a plane to Tel Aviv tomorrow! Can't wait to report compliment experiences from Israel and Istanbul! 

Who?
Ana
Where?
Berlin, Germany
What?
"Quiero tu... erm... No sé la palabra... erm... como se dice..?" I pointed at her skirt.
"Mi falda?"
"Si! Tu falda! Gracias! Pienso que es muchisimo... erm.. bello.. No, es Italiano...--"
"Hermosa?" 
"Si! Es muy hermosa!"
How did she react?
She nodded, "Vale! Gracias!" 
How did I feel?
Aprendo Español a la universidad desde el octubre pasado. Si hablas Espanol es probable detectar muchisimos errores en esto texto. Pero hoy estoy emocionada sobre mi Español, no importa cuántos errores hago: El encuentro con ana esta tarde ha estado el primera vez en el que utilizé mi Español con una persona que no estudia o enseña a la universidad. Spanish in real life! Aunque no sabía muchisimas palabras cuando hablé con ella Ana comprendía lo que yo quería expresar. Fue increíble! 

I am going to switch back to English now. Enough racking my brains over Spanish words for one day. When I saw Ana I fell for her skirt. It looked just like that very moment: Sunny, colorful, smelling of flowers and spring. I approached her and asked whether she spoke English or German. She shook her head slowly. So-so. "Spanish?", She asked me. Now it was on me to shake my head. But I gave myself a push. The compliment was team-work with her helping me to find the words. But eventually we made it past all language barriers. 
I asked her where she was from (in Spanish.), she told me (in Spanish, and I understood!), from Madrid, and that she was only visiting Berlin for one day. Then she asked me for directions to her destination. I told her the way (in Spanish!!). Afterwards I was delighted to have seen such a beautiful skirt, talked to a nice girl and experienced that my Spanish was at least good enough to make a three minute conversation. Total delectation! Gracias, Ana!