Spring in northern Israel. Often wet and windy but the sunny spells warm enough for t-shirts

For the first week or so he still felt a bit of a loner, but soon enough got to know the rest of the volunteers and found it very easy to get along with them. He felt very much at home here. This place suited him better than his previous kibbutz.
'Yeah, this is it,' he thought.

And the work was OK too, not hugely demanding on the brain. They didn't have any real choice as to where they'd be working - It was under the control of one of the members and also a volunteer who'd put each person to the places that needed the most help. Just about everyone worked in the bakery. He'd already heard horror stories about the work there. Sure, it could get boring sometimes, but he enjoyed it. He'd pack rolls, pack pitta, even straighten bread on conveyors so the machines packed it properly - in this situation the value of a Walkman couldn't be emphasised enough.

The bakery was basically split into two: Production and Packing. Production was the place where all the bread products were made by machines or twisted by hand, and also had a strong smell of yeast (not a good thing to smell first thing in the morning.) Packing was where everything that had been baked was packed into crates and stored, ready for the delivery trucks to take it to the shops and businesses in the area (which covered most of the northern part of the country.) There were day-shifts and night-shifts available. He was working nights and found that this suited him as well. The hours were from 9pm to 4am - when the morning shift would take over.