“Hello?” “Hi it’s me.” “Hi, hun how’s the drive going?” “Not so good. I’m lost. Can you help?” “Uhhhh…okay where are you?” “Ben Gurion Street and I need to get to Ben Yehuda.” “Okay. Which Ben Gurion? Tel Aviv, Ramat HaSharon, Ra’anana, Herzliya…” “Tel Aviv. Tel Aviv.” “Okay. So what’s your cross street right now? Uhhh Snir, no Smir! Smir.” “Hmmmm…I don’t know where that is. Wait, let me check the map online.” “Okay.” “Where do you want to go again? Ben Gurion?” “No! No! I’m ON Ben Gurion and I need to get to Ben Yehuda.” “And you’re in Tel Aviv right?” “YES!” “Alright. Rega, wait…okay, can you find Pinskell St.?” “What?” “Peen-skell. Find Pinskell St.” “That can’t be right. I don’t remember doing that on our practice run yesterday.” “Well that’s what it says here!” “Don’t you remember what we did yesterday?” “No.” “Well there was no Peen-skell!” “Hun! I don’t remember. I don’t know streets in Tel Aviv.” “What do you mean? I thought you knew Tel Aviv.” “I do.” “Then how do you get around?” “Like everybody else, I just do. Look, you’d better just pull over and ask someone for directions.”
“Well, now I’m on Dizengoff going toward the fountain.” “No! No! Don’t do that! Only taxis can do that! You’ll get a ticket.” “Where? It doesn’t say that.” “Trust me. Don’t do it!” “Well, I’m doing it now.” [The GF sighs] “Hon.” “What?” “I gotta go, I’m getting pulled over.” [Ten minutes later] “Did you get a ticket?” “No. But I almost got arrested.” “What?” “Nevermind, it’s a long story.” “So did you ask someone for directions?” “I’d rather die.” “Why would you rather die?” “I can’t explain it. It’s in my DNA.” “Well, that’s how we do things in Israel. I know you hate it, but you have to do it.” [Sighs. Smashes fists against steering wheel.] “Alright. Alright. I’m just going to park. I know I’m close. What do the red and white lines mean again?”
“You can’t park there.” “What about the Blue and white?” “That’s fine, but you may or may not need to buy a parking ticket.” “How do I know? Is there a sign somewhere?” “Sometimes. Yes.” “Sometimes? Alright…I'll just get one to be safe. So where do I get the ticket?” “From a corner store.” “Okay. Oh crap, I just stalled the car. Wait.” “What’s all that honking?” “Nevermind. Ah…shut up you motherfu—.”
“What?!” “No, no, not you. Alright, I’m parked, but I don’t see a corner store around here.” “Ihhh…whatever, don’t worry about it.” “Are you sure?” “No.” “No? Well…dammit I’d better find a store. Crap. I’m already 20 minutes late.” “Hun, forget it, just go, just go.” “Are you sure?” “Just, whatever, it’ll be fine, just go.” “Alright. I’ll talk to you later.” “Bye.” “Bye.” [Leaves car. Comes back later to find parking ticket. Sits on corner and hangs head.] A North America to Israel driving etiquette conversion guide 1. Cut off = lane change 2. Lane = decorative paint 3. Traffic light—stop, slow, go = honk horn, honk horn, honk horn 4. Lane direction signs = more decorative paint 5. Turn signal = cultural faux pas 6. Change lanes on highway and accelerate = change lanes on highway and decelerate 7. Honk horn = every second you’re in the car 8. Speed bump = ramp 9. Stop sign = "?????" 10. Yield sign = That triangle in my rearview mirror 11. Parking spot = sidewalk
* aromano's Dizengoff Square used with thanks under the Creative Commons Attribution license

Your average street in Tel Aviv. Note the sidewalk parking.
It's hard to tell from this picture, but just in case you try to ignore it that stop sign is flashing.
Mmmmm...road humps.