Fun at the beach

My grandsons just arrived from their new home-country, Australia, for a 5-week stay in Israel.
This is thanks to the scholarships their parents received in order to come and lecture at our universities and contribute to research projects at two university medical centers.
I took the bus westward to Tel Aviv to see the family. While his little brother was napping, Dean and I had fun on the Mediterranean seashore.

I realized my Jerusalemite eyes are no longer used to seeing so much unclothed skin. But for the more secular Tel Avivis and tourists, it's perfectly normal. (The bathing beauty is no relation. Just happened to be in the background.)

Dean was busy on the rowing machine.

It's a whole "playground" of free work-out machines! But the sign warns that you must be at least 14 years old. Actually, the Hebrew version warns about a lot more than that. But anyway, Dean is not old enough to read. . . .

There are also plenty of kids' playgrounds along the clean and lovely sandy beach.

But Dean preferred the challenge and novelty and resistance of the too-big-for-him exercise machines.

He dug up these rocks and carried them over to arrange on a big stone. With my archaeology mind-set, I was thinking how this looked like a little rogem (or in Arabic, rujm). Many of those mysterious ancient stone-heaps dot the countryside. And I was imagining Dean as the future archaeologist of the family. Who knows . . . ?

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