When she’s relaxed, or chatting with her childhood friends, my wife—bless her cotton socks—lapses into her native Holon singsong lilt, which I love, and sometimes tease her about. (Only in Holon can ken! [yes!] sound like a three-syllable word…).
When I want to pull someone’s leg, I deliberately exaggerate my maaaatayim (‘two hundred’), because that’s how Jerusalemites are supposed to sound.
And native kibbutzniks and moshavniks from the Jezreel Valley seem to be particularly good at rolling their /r/s in the throat (which I really envy).