1,2,3,4,5… Once I Caught a Fish Alive,

I f you like unbelievable stories carry on reading. If you don’t — stop right now. Because you’ll never believe what happened to me Aliza Kastelman.

I live in Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka (for anyone who missed geography class) is a little island south of India. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing on an island near India. Well my parents have a guesthouse for tourists. Pretty much like Avraham Avinu plus air conditioning. And in case you ask about school I learn in an online school. Which is pretty cool because my classmates are from places like Nepal New Guinea and the Outback. (Pay attention in geography class and you’ll find out where those places are).

Let’s be honest from the start. Having all these guests is fun and games — most of the time. They’re pretty interesting and even helpful. One elderly hiker taught me how to read a contour map (that’s a map full of squiggly lines). A lady who was missing her thumb taught my mom how to gut fish (I didn’t ask how she lost her thumb).

But sometimes I get tired of the hullabaloo. Like the time I was ready to climb into bed and couldn’t because a tourist had curled up splat in the middle of my bed. (My mom steered her to the guest wing.) But the hardest is Erev Shabbos when one of our regular helpers doesn’t turn up. Because that puts me on kitchen duty. Which is what leads to this story. Are you still reading?