Only an hour at Misrad HaPnim, it was amazing. I filled out a form and paid a little money (140 NIS) to extend my visa (thank God I seem these days to always have an extra passport photo floating around my gigantic wallet somewhere), and they did it. Since I’m leaving the country in November, I don’t have to play this game again ’till February, whoo.

But to make sure I didn’t get too cocky, I still got some of the charm for which Israeli government workers are so well-known. After waiting in line for some time, they finally called me:

“Dalia Ruttenberg?”
“That’s me. But my name is Danya.”
“You’re listed here as Dalia, and I’m going to call you whatever is on the list.”

Thanks, lady. But I can’t complain, because I have my visa and don’t have to go back for a whole half-year.