It's hard to live in Israel without eating olives. (Or watching soccer - more on that in a future post.)
I'm doing the best I can, though. No matter how long I live here, there are some pleasures I simply don't appreciate. Acquired tastes? Not for me. Much to my wife's chagrin. (Regarding olives, not soccer.)
At least I can cope with black olives. Even when chopped, they stand out clearly in a tuna salad and can be extracted with only minor surgery (though on Shabbat it's a bit more delicate).
But the green ones are devious. They sit there disguised as pickles, waiting for my unsuspecting palate. When I'm least prepared - yech! What should be a pleasurable dining experience becomes a source of unnecessary stress.
Olives chopped into a salad should be required to identify themselves clearly. Being black is a good way. Olives should not be allowed to wear camouflage green in an environment with other green vegetables.
Somehow I don't think the consumer advocates will back me on this one.