wanderlost

galle

a long day of walking and exploring the port/fort town of Galle has brought us back to our favorite hangout, Funky de Bar’s laid-back beachfront resto-bar. we like the eccentric dutch owner; we like Jayantha, the surf instructor with the long hair and pearly white smile [funniest thing: i asked him at one point in our conversations whether any israelis came through here, and he said he knew a few but didn’t like them. when i asked him why, he replied “too big balagan!”]; we like the Lion Lager beer. we’ve become temporary regulars, watching the same bag ladies saunter by and politely refusing the seashell man with his handcrafted seashell elephants.

last night Ruta snored through the thunderstorm that ravaged our hotel, leaving us without electricity for the better part of the night (ie NO AC!), and a 2-inch pool of water that made me laugh out loud as i splashed about in it on my way to the bathroom in the dark. when we got ourselves sorted in the morning, we hitched a tuk-tuk ride to Galle, a town about 15km down the coast from Hikkaduwa. it used to be ceylon’s foremost port town, switching greedy colonial hands (from portugese to british to dutch) over the years. we walked the fortified rampart walls along the peninsula, as well as traipsed about the half-dozen roads that criss-cross through the town. my favorite part was meeting a couple of young guys on top of a rocky lookout point—one in particular with dreadlocks and a tongue piercing—who asked us if we wanted to see them jump off the cliff into precariously rocky waters 25 feet below. i asked him if he was nuts, and he assured me he wasn’t—turned out they do this for money (3 bucks a jump—how much is your life worth?). misguided youth. i told him i couldn’t afford the bad karma should he kill himself on my account. we laughed a good deal, and parted ways happily.

it felt like family-day in town, with a lot of young kids running around, always eager to show off their english “hello! hello!” and bright smiles when we passed. again, i am astounded by the openness here; everyone gives their smiles freely and generously. i especially enjoyed the longer tuk-tuk ride to and from Galle (we splurged)—the wind in my face, the pavement racing by just inches from my dangling feet, and the endless landscape of beach-palm tree-shanties-people-cows-tuktuks-shops-goat-beach rolling by like the old cartoon backgrounds looping by across the chase scenes. so here we sit at Funky’s, languidly and lazily contemplating the sea (because it’s so much more than just watching)…i am caught between worlds, rooted here by these crashing waves and salty sea smells, but also lurking in the private rooms in my head, dark and musky and full of pregnant promises…it seems i am so far away from where i just departed, and i still have many, many more steps to take on this journey before making my way back, and it scares me how fragile life is and how much could go wrong (and right) between now and then. it seems impossible to venture out all this way, and return unscathed with smooth wind always blowing in my sails…i hope my journey is nothing but safe, but, then again, it wouldn’t be an adventure without the unexpected storms to shipwreck us on undiscovered shores.

hikkaduwa

humid. my lungs, my pores, every open part of me is full of this moldy humidity—the only respite is beneath the blast of cold air from our AC machine, but then i feel cool and dry and unnatural; stepping outside is always a harsh transition. the beach is beautiful; we walked for hours this morning, discovering sleepy fishing boats scattered along the coast, and local people anxious for us to return their enthusiastic waves. i dipped my toes into the indian ocean for the first time, and felt the elation of breaking new ground, once more—only this time treading in new waters. by high noon we decided it was time to get out from under the sun, so we walked all the way back to a place called Funky de Bar, which offers surf lessons in addition to its food and drink menu. in fact, the main surf instructor reminded us of our old costa rican friend, Erly—it was a strange deja vu, or more like a been-there-done-that; i nixed the idea of surfing, but we lounged for hours under a thickly thatched palm roof, sipping fresh fruit juice and appreciating having shelter from the mid-afternoon torrential downpour. an old woman selling clothing out of an ikea bag took refuge there as well, and thought while she was at it she’d try to make a sale—well, Ruta took the bait, and in less than 10 minutes about 6 other old bag ladies (selling the same stuff) had appeared out of nowhere, all pulling their wares out for us to see. it was such a desperate scene; the owner had to shoo them away, like stray animals. one of them, the eldest and by far most decrepit, was persistent; she refused to move on. i felt so sorry for her, i gave her 50 rupees—all i had on me—but still she insisted that we buy something from her. if i’d had the money with me, i probably would have, just for her sheer determination. i’m sure she’ll find us again tomorrow; the people here spend their time hunting for tourists like bloodthirsty zombies, because there’s not much else for them to make a living. these tourist towns have fallen on hard times, what with the tsunami and current civil war—it was a real sad sight, because the hotels are open and ready to accommodate, and there are only ghosts passing through. i don’t know which is worse, though; a dilapidated, empty tourist town in shambles, with people banded together in a sort of collective despair, or a thriving shiny commercial tourist trap (like cancun for instance) with a dark and ugly underbelly—which is more real?

colombo

i have stepped beyond my own boundaries into a world of chaos and confusion. the Pettah market area is the most insane place i have ever set foot in; i felt like i had been swallowed by the sea, a lone white flotsam drowning in the murky brown waters. it was never-ending. we were adopted by an old man with blue rings in his eyes who called himself Douglas, who wanted to take us here, there, everywhere; he seemed harmless enough, and the prospect of following this stranger into the depths of the unknown was slightly less petrifying than trying to navigate them on our own, so we half-willingly obliged. though the places we visited were dark and crowded, people were pleasant and gave us our space. the crammed and muddy dirt roads were a far cry from the sweeping boulevards of the luxurious Cinnamon Gardens, lined with trees bigger than houses and its 4 lanes of controlled traffic. by comparison, Pettah was located on the fringes of hell. the market was predominantly male, but surprisingly the men take care not to touch you—they hover uncomfortably close at times—but nobody bumps into each other. i find myself much more at ease with women, and children; they are always quick to smile, and somehow they are less demanding in their genuine attention. i love the look on children’s faces when they spot me in a crowd, like i’m some fantastical white creature out of a fairybook. when we were exhausted and overwhelmed by the nightmarish Pettah fairytale WE had entered, we easily hopped into a tuk-tuk, the ubiquitous three-wheeler that will take you anywhere (weaving in and out of traffic—street signs and lane divisions are mere suggestions here) for a few rupees, and made our way back to our peaceful hotel lawn for a much-needed drink.

so far the only taste sensation has been the local “jaggery”, boiled down sugarcane that comes in the scrumptious form of little black nuggets—it’s pure sugar and will rot your teeth out, but it’s heaven.

airports

tel aviv—jordan—colombo december 19-20, 2007.

always i see the same characters; the airports are constantly churning out the same people, in a never-ending rotation of metal pass-throughs and revolving doors. i could’ve sworn i saw an entire flight crew that accompanied me in the skies once ago. the bored security people, the disgruntled passengers held up for hours, the wandering hippies with oversized musical luggage, the families with erratic small children…i know them all intimately. we have been through this trip before, together—the collective swarm of humanity migrating to and from the nest, these small hives acting as hubs of production, and movement…and i can’t help but wonder, who am i to them?

the guy sitting next to me on the plane asked me what i was looking for in sri lanka. i told him i was looking for whatever i was going to find. that was the end of our conversation for the next 7 hours.

the adventure continues

alright, where was i? oh yes, Eilat was thankfully behind me as i rode into Jerusalem, and i was gearing up for my next excursion, this time to the north. sadly enough, my first intended item of business (hiking up to a secret hot springs with a local artist friend) ended up being no item of business; he had taken ill, and wasn’t up for the trek. mind you, he was up for sitting in his studio drinking red wine and philosophizing until well after midnight…*sigh* artists, i tell you. well it was all in good fun, and he didn’t try any monkey business (thank god, for his sake—i had enough aggressive knee-jerk energy stored up from Eilat, he would have been very, very sorry)…i think he’s a bit lonely up there, and appreciates my company as i appreciate his; a friendship has been forged, and though i didn’t see him again (for he really was sick, and stayed in bed for 3 days thereafter), we plan to meet up when i come back to israel. actually, he has the wanderlust bug almost as badly as i do, and has been loosely throwing around tempting invitations to go with him to morocco, or thailand, or nepal…all nice ideas, which i am currently thoroughly enjoying playing out in my fantasies. will they come to fruition? doubtful. who knows…stay tuned!

i’m sure i’ve spared no gushing detail in previous emails about how beautiful tzfat is; every time i’m there, i feel myself grow ever more attached. the perma-smile spread steadily across my face as the bus climbed higher and higher north; by the time i de-boarded, it was all i could do not to burst into a fit of dancing for joy. i located my hostel easily enough (yes ladies and gentlemen, i learned something from my misadventure in eilat, believe it or not—i even booked in advance!), and once i’d checked in, set off to explore my beloved city. there’s a lot more to it than i’ve been brave enough to cover on foot (if i mistakenly take a turn downwards, there’s no telling how far i can go—and it’s not the down that bothers me, it’s the hike back up!) ; but i did discover some new winding alleyways and picturesque streetscapes. i also acquired a map, which enabled me to find may to Citadel Hill, a large park on top of the mountain that has small paths winding up and up and up; i went at night, by the faint light of my cellphone, and sat with my jaw gaping open in amazement at the view of the surrounding hills and towns, and the star-speckled canvas of the night overhead. if ever there was a place to contemplate the meaning of life, and get your neurons firing at warp speed in attempting to solve the mystery of existence, and time, and space—that’s the place to do it. and in this wonderful age of wireless technology, i had my dear friend erin (sitting in snowy ontario) to share it with me.

the hostel i was staying at offers a variety of classes in the morning and evening (they also run community programs all year-round, and seminars, and a bunch of other interesting things), so i was very disciplined in attending all i could attend (not to mention i got a rebate on my room for each session…incentive enough for me, though i would’ve gone to them anyway). the subject matter covered hanukkah-related themes, to studies of the Tanya and Chumash, to a mind-blowing mysticism class with a ba’al teshuva from london, ontario (originally born in montreal, go figure), who blew my socks off with one paragraph dealing with the idea of Divine Nothingness. i wouldn’t even pretend to claim that i understood a word, but the thoughts zipping through my brain were on fire, and it made me painfully aware of how much more i need to learn. i think i need to study physics. the hostel also had a full library, so i took the liberty of stacking up a pile of books, which i munched on throughout my stay. I was also cutting across town to attend a few classes in an all-girls’ seminary called Sharei Bina; the teachers were good, but the concentration level (in a roomful of 17-19yr old american girls right out of high school) was less than my cup of tea.

right around the corner from the school, i remembered the park where i did some volunteer gardening in the summer; an artist used to live there, and the grounds are littered with his impressive stone sculptures. it’s a quiet spot looking out over the hills; i sat for a long while on one of the benches, enjoying the scenery, and pondering. i figured i may as well see if anyone was in the Center for Healthy Living (the organization that was in charge of tending the park), since i had made a nice connection with the 2 staff members i had worked with that one day. they were there, as well as another cool hippie girl (these people most closely resemble my cobourg friends—i felt right at home), and i ended up spending the evening and lighting my first hanukkah candles with them. the next day i had some spare time, and my feet found their way back to them—talk about animal attraction—and again we spent a few hours together, lost in conversation and painting windowframes. they are renovating this humongous space/cave that was once an arab khan, sort of this gathering place for the caravans that would come to the markets and where the people could sleep and keep their donkeys…there are many small cavernous offshoots, and as they continue to dig, they continue to discover rooms. it’s a great project; when i come back and don’t know what to do with myself, i might just head up for a week or so to lend a helping hand. one of the staff members is a sweet young guy who did an art degree at massart in boston, where i did a summer program when i was 16; it is so nice to keep having this overlap here, when i meet people—the ease with which we can establish a common frame of reference makes everywhere i go feel like a taste of home.

speaking of home…my condolences to all of you stuck in the -22 C winter wonderland. i am still wearing my birkenstocks (although people think i’m a bit crazy), and the winter rain that has begun to fall, bringing everything back to life, is filling the air with a springtime smell (the fragrance of flowers, grass; the aroma of mud and humidity)—my canadian weathermeter is baffled by the seasons here. oh but don’t get me wrong, i wouldn’t trade places, nope. :)

so, i am now spending time with my cousins in modi’in, and soon i will be bouncing between more relatives in rishon and tel aviv; thoroughly enjoying being taken care of (mainly in the food and laundry departments) before i rough it for a month in the sri lankan wilderness…and that’s all folks! i hope you are all keeping warm and happy during this holiday season. chag sameach…happy chrisnukkah? merry hannumas? whatever works for you.

i wonder where we’re at

Hello all.

It’s been a while, I know. Life sort of found a groove to settle into,
what with going to classes all day and thinking thinking thinking
until my brain hurt; but now I’ve jolted myself out of said groove,
and thus begins the next chapter of adventuring.
I was planning to go up to Tzfat right after my program at Neve
Yerushalayim ended, but was suddenly inspired to live in the moment,
and spontaneously decided Eilat was a better proposition. I enlisted
the company of a friend from Neve, a british girl by the name of
Olivia (and quite the party girl at that), and we embarked on our
journey Sunday afternoon. We met later than anticipated at Chaos
Central (otherwise known as Jerusalem Bus Station)—I had wanted to
leave at 10am, but apparently I was being unrealistic—and little did
we know that we needed to reserve seats on this particular bus route.
Feh! So our new 2 o’clock departure was pushed back to 5 o’clock,
which ended up being delayed an hour, which puts us right around
twilight. So much for a scenic drive through the desert (and ample
daylight to wander around Eilat in search of a hostel).

Anyway. This is where the adventure really began. As soon as I got on the bus, I
passed out, and when I woke up an hour later I promptly stuck in my
earphones and diverted my attention out the window to the eerie
landscape of the desert awash with the pale glow of the full moon
(quite beautiful actually). I was relatively unaware of what Olivia
was up to (even though she was sitting right next to me—like I said,
I had entered into my own world), and when the bus stopped for a
break, she informed me that she had struck up a conversation with the
guy we had noticed back at the bus station (a very israeli macho type,
tight faded jeans, fashion shirt, sweater with fur hood, and big bug
sunglasses—no comment on sense of style here in israel), and when he
had asked her where we intended to stay in eilat and she replied “no
idea really, just gonna follow our noses”, he offered up his apartment
for the night. now normally any level-headed person would chuckle and
shrug it off with an awkward “no thanks”, but seeing as we were
already exhausted, and it was only getting later, she told him she’d
ask me (i guess she figured the least she could do was give me consulting rights). dumbfounded, i glared at her, shocked and appalled—but after
the initial surprise had dissipated, i thought at least check the guy
out first and see if he is indeed a psychopath worth steering clear of
at all costs. i sat down with him over a coffee (on these long bus
rides, the drivers like to pause long enough to smoke and enjoy a cup
o’ joe), and within a few minutes of conversation had established that
he was actually not such a bad guy, just unfortunate enough to be
stuck with a weird fashion/machismo complex that prevented him from
appearing well-intentioned. needless to say, it turns out he worked
nights at a fancy hotel and wouldn’t be in the apartment at all (which
settled my nerves and pushed me to consider his proposition); i
thought we must be nuts, but then again, i’ve gotten myself into much
sketchier situations and come out with a great story to tell (hitching
across the yukon on the back of a harley davidson anyone?), so i
figured, what the hell. we accepted (much to his surprise), and as
soon as he’d gotten us settled (into his teeny tiny apartment—thank
god it was clean), he bolted off to work, and we hit the hay. he woke
us up in the morning after his shift with two big bags full of food,
and we had a great israeli-style breakfast (eggs, toast, and a LOT of
tomatoes, cucumbers, and cheese, cheese, cheese). then we hit the
beach.

Eilat is really not as romantic as it sounds; it’s actually
quite a seedy place. Everyone there is either selling or buying
something, and when you’re 2 white girls (especially a tall blonde—that would be Olivia) in
a tourist town, there’s no question. So once again we were thankful
for our local saviour, who fended off the sleazebags and was gracious
enough to pay for drinks and chairs. He and Olivia sunned themselves
while I ran around snapping photographs of weird things on the shore. Much to our surprise (and dismay), it was actually chilly—i
was wrapped up in a sweater and shawl, and still miserable. I don’t
know how Olivia managed to sit out in her bathing suit—I think she
did it on principle, really. Anyway, we decided to take our friend out
for a nice dinner (our way of thanks), and after a hearty meal, we
went back to the apartment to discover that another guy had been given
permission to stay for a few nights by the hotel management (who
happened to own the whole apartment complex, and kept it for its
staff). This guy was more than happy at the prospect of having two
girls stay in the same room, but before we could protest, our friend
had a minor freak out (in typical fiery israeli fashion), and told us
to grab our stuff, we were NOT staying with that creep. So he devised
a plan to sneak us into his hotel after hours, once the night shift
had its turnover, and get us a room that wasn’t occupied (good thing
he was on good terms with the night manager, he got his hands on the
room list). it was the most sketchy operation ever, we sat in the
lobby for ages waiting for his signal, and then finally bolted down
this long corridor to a staff elevator, and quickly manoevered our way
into a closet of a room (which, it turns out, was worth $770 US a
night. disgusting). by this point i was shutting down, and needed
sleep, so we made the bed and i crashed. Olivia still had strength to
check out the hotel’s jacuzzi, so i bid her farewell and warned her i
would be a very grumpy Alex if she woke me up on her way back in.
Well, grumpy I was, because 2 hours later she AND our friend barreled
into the room, and began to ready themselves for bed. the BOTH of
them. in ONE bed. apparently he needed the nap, even though it was on
his shift. at this point i was awake enough to realize what was
happening, and as they got into bed (she was considerate enough to put
herself between me and him), i instinctively grabbed my pillow and
rolled myself onto the floor. so for a supposed 800 bucks i had the
pleasure and delight of enjoying the luxurious, cold, hard floor of
the Eilat Herod’s. Safe to say the next morning i just wanted to get
the HECK out of there, and as soon as we’d gotten into town, i
promptly set about looking for a hostel. I checked us into a decent
place (actually pretty nice compared to some of the depressing motels
around there), and Olivia and I set off to enjoy the day exploring the
town, checking out shops and the boardwalk (lined with boutiques
filled with clothes and junk).

anyway, the rest of the day flew by, and it was night by the time we’d gotten settled into our
dorm room (with two other girls), showered, and dressed to go out to
eat. we headed into town with one of our new roommates, and our local friend
joined us for a falafel; we then scorned the touristy bars blaring
loud pop music, and opted for a chilled out pub in which we were the
sole customers and the bartender let us pick the music to play (he had
The Smiths, couldn’t believe it). Our friend had to bail early to make
his shift, and I was getting tired and anxious to head back to my
hassle-free room, but Olivia, dear, sweet, Olivia, wanted to stay out
and party. So I told her she was a big girl and could make her own
decisions, but I for one had had enough. I left her with a local
couple of whom she seemed fond, and prayed she would stay out of
trouble. I will spare you the details (they are not mine to
tell—probably all in her mass email), but when I woke up in the
morning, she was nowhere to be seen. I muttered an “oy vey” under my
breath, and thanked heaven when I checked out of the room and found
her sitting in the lobby (with our friend, whom she had tracked down at
some point in her misadventurous night). Both of them were a sorry
sight, and proclaimed “sleep or death!”. I was at their mercy. good
thing i had a book with me; i spent the rest of the morning with my
nose in it, as they slept their woes away. If this story is dragging
out long enough, then you will feel a taste of what my trip was like.
I had to drag her out of her sluggish, hungover sleep, and get
ourselves to the bus station to catch our ride. She had insisted on
the afternoon bus, so this time we could watch the desert roll by in
daylight; I enjoyed the sights (sunset was unbelievable), but she had
fallen asleep as soon as the wheels hit the pavement. Thankful as
always for my ipod, I plugged myself in and desperately tried to
ignore the weirdo hippie guy who had gotten on at some random stop in
the middle of nowhere and was attempting to make eye contact with me.
I held my ground, and eventually dozed off. When I woke up, I was
appalled to find Olivia sitting next to him, happily chatting away!
When she fell asleep again, he tried to move into the empty seat next
to me (the bus was half-full), but I shot him a look of death and he
got the hint and left me alone after that. *sigh* I really hate being
mean, but GIVE ME A BREAK!!! By the time we reached jerusalem, i
wanted to shout for joy at the sight of all the men in black hats and
religious garb who i know won’t bother to try to ogle me or swindle me
or any other despicable thing, they’ll just leave me alone and go on
their merry way. All in all, Eilat really gave me a deeper
appreciation of these religious folk; they may seem strange and
exclusive, but they are so refreshing after the noxious behaviour of
99% of Eilat’s finest.

Alright I know that was extremely detailed and possibly even boring,
but what can I say, I missed regaling you with my tales, so I had to
compensate for the weeks that have gone by without a word.
It is now 2 in the morning, and I must shower and pack, because
tomorrow I embark on the next adventure—to Tzfat, the mystical city
in the northern mountains. 2 more weeks until Sri Lanka!!! Time is absolutely whizzing by.

the page between chapter 2 and chapter 3

these letters are becoming harder and harder to write, as the nature of my adventures has turned inwards; there has been less of the go-go-go travelling, and more of a laid-back absorption of the everyday “mundane” (which, by the way, is not a word that exists in israel)…which, needless to say, makes it slightly more difficult to relate to all of you curious readers.

but here we go anyway.

the thread i last left unsewn had me right after rosh hashana, i believe; after the chag (holiday—yes, my letters are now going to be an introduction to hebrew as well), i escaped jerusalem for a while and stayed at the shemesh family caravan, which i think i have mentioned before, but which i will describe again as being on a jaw-dropping mountaintop surrounded by desert. yossi came up with me for the day, and we helped build the sukka (for those of you as oblivious as i was a mere year ago: sukkot is the festival of booths that comes at harvest-time, and though i won’t get into all the background of the week-long holiday, it’s a time when people build these temporary dwellings outside their homes—there are many guidelines to follow—and eat/sleep in them all week. it’s a really fun chag, they have sukka-decorating parties for the kids (which more than makes up for not having christmas tree decorating), lots of yummy food to partake of (what jewish holiday doesn’t, really??), and an all around good time for everyone). we also babysat the 4 kids that night, a mission whose worst i had prepared myself for, but someone was watching over us because it was the smoothest babysitting i could ever have imagined, and we’re talking 4 wild children here. after my brief but satisfying visit, i came back to jerusalem to pack my bags yet again, gearing up for the 5-day trip our program was taking together for sukkot.

we loaded onto a bus and embarked on a 4 hour journey which brought us up to the golan, a mountainous region in the north; we stayed on a moshav (a settlement) from which we could see the syrian border. it was in the middle of nowhere, and as is somewhat standard for israel’s middle of nowhere, absolutely beautiful. we had our own separate houses (girls together, boys together, and families together)—so thank God in high heaven that i did not have to eat, sleep, AND breathe children screaming and freaking out for 5 days straight. my nights were children free. the highlight of the place was a shady “park” with eucalyptus trees, tall and strong and beautiful things that they are; it overlooked a lake-pond that was frequented by the moshav’s pack of docile cows, and beyond that, desert again, and mountains, and syria in the distance. a sidenote about eucalyptus trees: back in one of the wars/conflicts (forgive me, my political detail is fuzzy at best—it just goes in one ear and out the other, and i’m trying, i really am), this man (again, lost the name in the blurry depths of my mind—i’d know it if i heard it), i think he was an israeli spy, but either way he was on israel’s side, but somehow had benign contact with the syrian forces, and they were building bunkers and bases all around and he casually told them, “oh, you know, you should plant eucalyptus trees, they grow real fast and they provide lots of shade”—so the brilliant syrians planted them on every base and bunker, literally turning themselves into dead give-aways. i think the syrians eventually caught on, and ended up capturing and torturing our hero to death…there are a bunch of streets named after him. tragic, really, but his name lives on (for those not too dense to remember it) in the eucalyptus trees.

so. we went up to tzfat for a day-tiyul (trip), and it was so good to be back there—i really do love that place. i ditched the group and went to wander down trails i had already broken for myself; they brought me to a little cafe/artisan store run by a couple who are weavers; i had met their son the last time, and he is my age, and an artist, and we hit it off immediately, so i went back to see if he was still hanging around. i ended up sitting with him while he smoked cigarette after cigarette; i think one of my favorite things about travelling is meeting people with whom you share absolutely nothing with in terms of background and culture, and yet you can sit down with them and launch into a diatribe about the various levels of reality, and what is God, and what are we doing here, and on and on ad infinitum, ad nauseum. this person embodies that precious gem of random connection, and after an hour of probing the depths of metaphysical inquiry, we made a date for 6 weeks from now, when i plan to return to tzfat, and where we will pick up where we left off. oh, wonder of wonders.

alright, so, that said, we returned to J-town, where i unpacked and repacked, and hopped on a bus the next morning to tel aviv (ok, i have to revise what i claimed in the intro—i am moving around a lot. just doesn’t feel like it i guess). i had been to the central bus station (tachana merkazit) before, and i must have lucked out on a quiet day, because this was NOT the same place. to sum it up in one word: BALAGAN (complete and utter chaos). in israel, you have to wait in line for everything, however people’s concept of a “line” really translates into everyone mashing together in a moshpit of pushing and shoving to get to the front. *sigh* so after going through that to get my ticket, i had to go through it again to get ON the bus. it’s a good thing my dad taught me how to be a pushy european (i remember an incident in an airport once, where he was dafka—actually and specifically—training me on this very valuable technique), because i had to suck up my courtesy and wrestle an old lady to get onto the bus. seriously. she was out for blood. it’s the heat here, i’m convinced. actually if you ever want to get a taste of the crazies in israel, the buses are the best place for it (and ok i don’t mean the suicide-bomber crazies, i’m talking the people who think that a split-second of eye contact means they can scream at you from across the bus to tell you their mother is stupid. this happened to me. i am not kidding. i take everything and everyone here with a giant grain of salt). so i made it to tel aviv relatively unscathed (albeit somewhat traumatized), and am now in the safe and warm care of my cousins. yoni has yet to start school (they have weird schedules here), so it’s just my luck that he spends his days bumming around, and is more than happy to have me join him in said bumming. we went to the beach, we ate yummy thai food, we talked about everything and nothing; all the good things, really. tamar is busier, she has rehearsals all week for a play she is putting on, but these people never sleep because she comes home from a long day of work and manages to stay up almost all night, chatting and hanging out like it’s vacation or something. yossi and his sister, shiri (who i love, and with whom i’ve gone on dates in jerusalem where we sit and talk talk talk for hours on end), both came to visit, and we hung out on the beach smoking nargileh (in the same spot i came with the girls over a month ago). yos bailed early to go back to jerusalem, serious yeshiva boy that he is, and the rest of us ended up on tamar’s roof (which is equipped with outdoor speakers, comfy couches, a bar area, and the ever-important hammock)…by 3am, shiri decided to stay the night. that’s what happens here. it’s not that you get sucked in, it’s just that despite the heat and the balagan and everything else, you can’t help but love it.

so this is where i am at right now. shiri has been patiently waiting for me to wrap up so that we can hit the street and see what shopping we can indulge in—my grandmother just called me yesterday to inform me that she deposited some money into my account, and “not to make economy”; so, cha-ching, thank you! she twisted my arm. i am here until sunday, and then i will zip back to jerusalem, unpack, and re-pack AGAIN, this time my whole life, because i am moving into a new place (grudgingly—i love my apartment, and my roomies…i don’t want to leave it!)—but such is life, i am committed to this new program, so i have to be there. hence the title of this email: i am really in the pause of breath between the last chapter, and a new one. i am really loving every step of the way.

so one last funny story i wanted to relate to you before i leave you on your merry way: there are fruit trees growing everywhere here, in people’s backyards, on the streets, wherever. anyway, this year is called “shmittah” year, which is sort of like shabbat for the land; it is a whole complicated issue, but basically you are not allowed to profit from and work the land, because it is at rest, and the fruits that grow are everyone’s. this doesn’t mean you can sneak into someone’s field and pilfer their crops, but if you see a fruit that you would like to consume on your way, you are permitted to it, regardless if it is on someone’s front lawn. so i have mapped out all the fruit trees on my route to class (so far i have found lemons, pomegranates, and grapes), but the one that really caught my eye was a juicy-looking sabra. what is a sabra, you ask? it is an orangey-reddishy-pink thing, a bit bigger than a lemon, but what makes it so special is that it grows on a scary-looking cactus. now my experience with cactii has taught me to watch out for the prickly bits that stick out all over the green (this experience comes direct, in large part, from the misadventures of wiley coyote)—but nothing in my cognitive thought process knew to apply the same principle to the succulently enticing fruit of the beast. so here i am, making a very concerted effort not to touch the big green spikes in my attempt to pluck the sabra from the highest “leaf”, and just as i wrap my hand around the prize, it dawns on me that the sudden fire in my fingers is an indication that i’m not as bright or stealthy as i thought. from far, the sabra looks smooth, with dark dots across the surface. upon closer inspection (why do i always have to learn the hard way??), these dots are little nests of tiny cactus splinters, that upon contact lodge themselves into your skin with one-way grit, which makes pulling them out an excruciatingly annoying task. it took me the whole walk home, and then some, to rid my hand of them—and then i itched for an hour afterwards. all that for a spoonful of juicyness on the inside, which, quite frankly, was damn worth it. so what is the point of my story? ah yes. all in all, it is interesting to note that the common name for a native israeli is…sabra.

while you think about that one, i am off to rejoin my beloved, pushy, chain-smoking sabras on the streets of tel aviv for another day of fun in the sun.

…and a happy new year!

aha! back again.

since we left off, life has been densely packed with emotional upheaval and ruminations/germination of thoughts of future thoughts…all well and good, I assure you. Biggest headline: I met my family. No, scratch that; bigger headline: I LOVE THEM! for all of you who have facebook, you will see some photographic evidence of said relatives. I got picked up from the bus stop by my dad’s first cousin, Uri, and the resemblance was so shocking that i started crying my eyes out on the spot. poor guy; he must’ve thought i was nutso. anyway we went back to his house to hang out with his lovely wife, Danna (whose sweetness and warm, welcoming maternal hug prompted another outburst of waterworks—though she was much more comfortable with it, thankfully), and layla, their adorable doggie (who happened to be on her period and was outfitted with a slightly less-than-ingenious diaper contraption with a maxi pad…watching her lick herself and fuss with it provided hours of entertainment). their 13 yr old son, Nadav, was much like my brother Yan in his aloof wandering about in his territory between the computer and his guitar, and, conveniently for him, his english was not so great so he was exempt from exchanging more than a few words. it was soon a big homecoming, as more and more people began to trickle in; David (my dad’s other first cousin) arrived straight from the airport—he had graciously agreed to transport some of my forsaken clothes from home, as well as a much-craved jar of peanut butter..and a note to all weary travelers: do NOT attempt to smuggle peanut butter across international borders. the germans will undoubtedly get you.

uri’s brother, Natan, arrived with his girls: Gefen, 16, Arbel, 12, and Netta, 7. All of them bubbly and chatty and incredibly curious about their new cousin who somehow appeared out of nowhere (the little one looked at me as though i’d come from the moon!). Uri’s two older kids, Yoni, (25, artist, studying architecture), and Tamar, (23, singer/dancer/actress) were the final addition to the party—all together, it was like stepping into a whirlwind of hugs and hellos and who are yous, and laughter and incredulity, and more laughter yet. we sat down for a big meal, and afterwards rushed off to synagogue for shabbat services. my favorite part was when the rabbi asked everyone to please turn off all cell phones and pagers, and an old lady’s phone inevitably rang in the middle of it anyway—and she started talking right there!! reform shul is definitely in a league of its own. the next day we lazed around after another morning service, and i went to my grandmother’s brother, mordechai,’s house, where he showed me old pictures of the family. my grandma had something like 10 siblings; each one of them has a story, and i will not go into detail as i’m sure my family tree is of little interest to anyone aside from my own family, but needless to say mordechai wrote a book about it and it’s a darn good thing. i will say that his first impression of me was that i looked like his sister, esther. i had never heard of her before (some of the other siblings’ names were familiar to me), and it turns out she was the only one of the clan who died in the war before they all came to israel; an edict ordering all jewish women to be turned in was issued, and her husband handed her over (i’m not sure if it was to the germans, or russians, or austro-hungarians…you’ll have to read the book). they don’t know what happened to her afterwards; it was eerie to look at a blurry mirror-image of myself through the window of time (as mordechai was correct in stating the similarity). anyway that was intense, and after the bar-mitzvah party (a nice big dinner at a restaurant right on the beach), i went to tel aviv with yoni and tamar and talked for hours over beer and edamames. overall, the weekend was brilliant, and i intend to visit them again very soon.

phew. ok so that was dense, sorry, there’s just so much to say about it, and the whole experience really floored me.

afterwards we had a week of class, and then rosh hashana came along to usher in a new year in the jewish calendar. we spent 4 days in the old city, and thankfully the rotting smell had dissipated substantially since my last visit in the heat of the summer, though it was no less claustrophobic. we shared our living quarters with the families of 3 of our staff, which totalled 6 parents and 11 shrieking, wild kids—you do the math. shabbat was less than restful, but i had a nice time hanging out by the western wall, watching the myriad of people flow by, and pondering the meaning of israel, judaism, god, and everything else. i still can’t figure this place out, but it’s ok, i’m slowly getting used to it existing as a strange phenomenon (in my own life, and the world)…

we’re back to a shadow of a routine now, with classes more or less on schedule, and more holidays approaching…our school is at the top of a forested hill, and i shortcut through a dance company’s complex to get up there; seeing the dancers every day was too much for me, and i went in and befriended the director of the company, and have begun to badger him about getting a modern dance class started for people like me (with no background but a burning to bust out some moves). he said he’d work on it…i’m keeping my fingers crossed that by my return in january i will have something fun to do!! i am also gearing up for my move, which will take place oct.8th, from my cushy apartment to shared dormitories at another school’s campus…a bit scary, but i think it will be a good change. this week also marks the booking of my ticket to sri lanka, and another big headline: it is a return ticket to israel. yup. big decision. don’t quite know exactly what i’ll be doing at that point, but i want to be here, with my friends and with my cousins—the rest will sort itself out. this is the Land of Idealism, and things here are governed by a different process than elsewhere. i have no substantiated worry that if i show up here (once again) with my bag on my back and not a clue in the world, i will not be taken care of.

so. there you have it. until the next never-ending outpouring of my life…shana tova!

and so it begins…again

hello hello!

hm, where are we now since my last check-in…i think i left you all after a week in tel aviv, and it has been busy busy ever since. i traveled up to the north to a beautiful town called Tzfat, or Safed, or Zefat, or a bunch of other spellings/pronunciations. haven’t quite looked into why these people never got it together to agree on one name, but anyway. it’s one of the 4 holy cities of israel, built vertically onto the side of a mountain; it is associated with the element of Air, and i tell you, the minute you step off the bus and breathe in the mountain air, you feel it filling your soul along with your lungs. i squatted for the few days at the dorms of an organization called Livnot, which basically runs volunteering programs; they had just finished a session, so we had the run of the place, with a kitchen (and leftover food in the fridge!) and washing machine and library. if the supermarket in tel aviv with free water and internet was heaven, well, then i must have died in heaven and gone to heaven all over again because THIS was even better. and believe it or not—FREE. well, it did come at a price: we sold our bodies for hard labour to pay for our accommodations. basically we did some livnot free-lancing, and just showed up at a work site and joined a bunch of israeli handymen who were fixing up these really depressing bomb shelters in the basements of some apartment buildings…we scrubbed, mopped, painted, chipped, inhaled copious amounts of dust, sweated alongside our hebrew-speaking comrades, and collapsed after a half-day’s work. i gained so much respect for these guys, who do this kind of work day in, day out..it was intense. also, they didn’t give us a lift back into town, so we had to climb about 3000 stairs (through the old cemetery and men’s mikveh—an ancient ritual bathing site), which was great because we got to narrowly squeeze by all these religious guys with their towels slung around their necks coming and going from this purification process, and here we are, disgusting, covered head to toe in dust and sweat…hah what a sight we were. but a shower fixed everything, and we continued our exploration of our home for the week. tzfat is famous not only for its mystical contributions (the zohar, the main text of kabbalistic teaching, was written there), but for it’s artist’s colony. i went nuts going in all the galleries and chatting up the various kooky artists who had somehow made this place their nest. i wish i could go into more detail about it all, but it’s already feeling like a long time ago, and i have other things to catch you up on, so we will continue.

shabbat. ah yes. we came back to jerusalem right in time to be swept up to a settlement in the mountains outside of the city, to stay by our friends (eliyon and leyla shemesh, our lighthouse people) with a bunch of other girls from montreal. it was like a family reunion in the middle of nowhere. it’s amazing. this couple and their 4 kids live in a caravan on top of a mountain in the desert. you can see jerusalem on one side, and you turn around and seriously see nothing but hills and hills for miles and miles. their settlement consists of about 30 young families from various walks of life (this is the theme in israel..such a random mishkebobble of people crashing together to make life happen) with about 100 kids running wild on this mountaintop.we drove down to a natural river and found a hidden eddy under some foliage, and splashed around in our skivvies. so what if there was a sign by the water that said “swimming prohibited due to contamination”. if i survived blue-green algae in st-donat, i think i can handle a little toxic sewage run-off. besides everyone else jumped in without qualms. at night i walked around under the full moon and felt like i had fallen into a dreamscape. the silence was earth-shattering. that was the good part—the bad part was, adrienne and i picked something up in our falafel adventures in tzfat, because the two of us turned our bathroom into a warzone. thank god for over-the-counter pills (aptly named Stop-Eet)—a word of caution: NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT THEM—5 days later and i think it’s safe to say i’m fully recovered.

so i moved into my house in jerusalem after shabbat, and it’s a gorgeous (albeit as of yet unfinished) 7-room, 2 floor apartment/house. i honestly thought i would never tread in the same sackville waters again, but i am outdoing myself: if living with 9 girls on 52 salem was intense…try living with 12. yep. 12 women. 2 showers. you do the math. lol all i can say is, we’re gonna go through a LOT of toilet paper. and the infectious israeli stomach bugs aren’t helping. but it feels like family already, and is making me homesick for sackville and that cozy time of life. here is a chance to feel that love again, and so far it is smooth going in ironing out the creases. classes have started, and they are also looking promising. all in all, i am exactly where i need to be right now, surrounded by a network of supportive friends, and in the words of penny lane/kate hudson in almost famous: “it’s all happening!”.

i am slowly learning the bus routes (i sit with my map unfolded on my lap and vigilently trace my trajectory as we go along—yes i look a weirdo tourist, but hey, it’s gotta be done), and getting lost is never so bad as it seems. had a very fancy shmancy birthday dinner for yossi last night with his sisters (minus chagit—you were with us in spirit babe) and put away a big steak and potatoes and the exceptional chocolate souffle that should be mandatory after any meal, really, and could have kept going—the fat man in my stomach has definitely recuperated after the damage inflicted on him last week. wound up at a house party of a friend of a friend, and again felt transported back to university, where people were just hanging out in semi-dingy living quarters, eating, smoking, drinking, playing music, talking…all the fun stuff of living on your own. i met a very cool californian girl and got into a very deep and very long conversation about everything and nothing, and was dragged home by an exhausted chaviva; we crashed into bed and started the whole process of Fun all over again this morning.

anyway, this is where i leave you for now; i am off to rishon l’tzion this weekend (no idea where that is) for my first cousin thrice-removed’s bar-mitzvah. never heard of these people until a few days ago—after a string of emails and middlemen (and women), i spoke to uri, my dad’s first cousin, on the phone and he asked me why i had been in israel a whole month and hadn’t called him. he was shocked to hear that i didn’t know he existed until the day before our conversation. so that’s pretty exciting. aside from his 13 yr-old, he has two older kids, 23 and 25 (my third cousins, i guess)—so hopefully i will make friends with them! that will be where i pick up next time.

tel aviv and back

just thought i’d share the last little leg of my journey; a 5-day
escapade to the party town of tel aviv, to decompress from the
fast-paced group trip, and collect ourselves before the next chunk of
adventure. i was with a group of 4 other girls (all of whom extended
their Fellowships tickets), 3 of whom decided to indulge in an
upper-class hotel, and the one trooper who may or may not have felt it
her duty to humour me in my shoestring budgeting. we arrived
unannounced at a youth hostel (apparently the best in tel aviv), and
they only had room for us on…the roof. turns out, the rooftop
lodging accomodates about 10-20 people at any given time, and it’s
every man for himself as we grabbed matresses and [clean] sheets and
vied for the more “private” corners. the first night, as is usually
the case with a new location, was restless and sketchy; we were
surrounded by people from all walks of life, gathering together in
hostel no-man’s-land to drink, smoke, and share travelling stories—of
which we had no part in, as we were too focused on praying that we get
through the night without any of our stuff being stolen. thankfully we
woke up unscathed, and with this gained confidence in our cozy little
sky apartment, paid for the next night with glee (we even had a
complimentary breakfast, toast and coffee, not bad). we got used to it
up there, and as the hot humid days burned off into breezy nights, we
were almost sad to say goodbye to the place which gave us shelter for
10 bucks a night. almost.

if the accomodations were cheap, the food was even better; there was a
godsend of an establishment right around the corner from the hostel
which provided us with free internet (yes you heard me. FREE. you
don’t know what joy that one simple word overwhelms my travelling
heart with), free water (again, elation), and fresh knishes (here burekas—not to be confused with ‘burkas’) and
pastries (as well as fruit and pita and tzadiki and veggies and
whatever else our stomachs desired) with pricetags comparable to those
i found once upon a time in mexico. so with my daily expenditures
rounding out at about $15-20 a day, i happily joined my gaggle of
girlfriends to laze away the days on the beach.

the sand is like butter there; never before have my toes felt such
smoothness, and it’s only mildly scorching hot come midday. we staked
our territory under a wooden hut thing (and despite spending the
entire time in the shade, 4 out of 5 of us got burnt…myself
included. and i re-applied!!), and read our respective novels, wrote
in our journals, and fended off unwanted advances from lecherous old
men (they are to tel aviv what the cats are to jerusalem). after a
particularly unnerving confrontation with one of said perverts, i
decided that there might be something to those separate religious
beaches after all. but the company was not all disconcerting, as we
spent a few hours in avid conversation with a cute french couple we
met in the adjoining hut. it was great to speak french again, and they
stroked my ego by gushing over how great and un-quebecois my accent
was. i’ve also gotten to practice my
spanish with a couple of wayward argentinians i bumped into…no such
luck with my german though, and my hebrew to date is basically
non-existent. but it will come…i hope.

other highlights included a solo stroll down to the artist’s market
(which consists of blocks and blocks of stands, no generic tchotchkes
in this bunch, all genuine hand-made stuff sold by the artists
themselves…my kind of place), a friend’s birthday celebration with dancing on the beach (in a very chilled out club with giant
lounge-atmosphere-inducing red lamps interspersed in the sand—so
soothing, in fact, that i fell asleep right in the middle of it. i am
a wild party.), and a very successful haggling job done by yours truly
with the falafel lady who overcharged me the first time but made such
a damn good falafel that i had to go back, but i told her straight up
that she ripped me off (by a whole 50 cents), and she wasn’t convinced
but conceded and made me dinner anyway…victory was mine.

well that about brings us up to speed, i am now back in jerusalem
crashing a nice young religious couple’s apartment for the weekend
(michal is a year older than me, and she’s great—she showed me how to
make my first challah today, a 6-strand braid—all those years of
doing gimp at camp finally paid off, mom you’d be proud; her husband,
gavriel, is also great, a spunky new yorker—they have taken me in
like their own). after shabbos i plan to meet up with my friend
adrienne (my fellow roof-mate) and see where the road takes us at that
point. too many options, so little time…i’ll be sure to keep you
posted on whatever direction i point my feet towards.

phew

well hello hello dear friends.

i know this email has been a some-time coming, but this trip has been so go-go-go that i haven’t had any real time to sit down and do it justice. and how, you may ask, have i found the time on this beautiful sunny day? easy, i would reply—i just made the executive decision to skip the morning wrap-up classes and treat myself to some freedom.

so. where to even start? so far, so good. i have been up and down the country, watching the desert roll by from the window of a nauseating bus, and i still can’t quite put my finger on the pulse of this place. it is indescribable. i have spent most of the time in jerusalem (and mainly the old city), which has been claustrophobic and chaotic. there is a sweet rotting smell that seems to seep out of the stones, and on especially hot days it can be oppressive and sickening. also the place is infested with cats, they’re like squirrels in north america, but more dangerous because they’re so gosh darn cute and it’s disarming because the instant urge is to coddle and feed them. but it’s not all bad here; besides, i’m biased because i can’t stand bustling cities to begin with. the shuk (marketplace) is an experience in itself, hundreds of people shouting and squeezing through the narrow “halls”, and the smells of fresh fruits, spices, vegetables, candy, fish…well it’s amazing. like a strange dream that never ends (you can walk around for days, although it’s nothing compared to the arab shuk off the old city—that one is more nightmarish, however..dark and damp and equally as crowded, but with less space and more alleyways to get lost down). i prefer the city at night, the heat burns off and a cool wind almost calls for a sweater. i have spent a LOT of time wandering around, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone, and i always find something new and interesting. i have yet to feel the pressure of the politics; all arabs i have encountered have either been almost friendly, or simply ignored me. the israelis are hilarious, they always seem to be yelling rudely at you, but once you get over it you realize that’s just the way they talk, and it makes sense, everything is so hot and loud, of course their blood is boiling.

we spent some time in the desert, visited a bedouin camp and rode around on camels…i picked a camel that was as sweet-natured as you could call a camel, and i thought i had chosen well until the camel tied in tandem right behind me (and literally within snapping distance) turned out to be the group psychopath and threatened me with angry snarls and groans the ENTIRE ride. i took video footage with my camera, it’s quality youtube stuff. julian i don’t know how you did it in the gobi for so long, the expanse of clay-coloured rock and dirt (not as refined as sand; would love to see a real sand desert now, to compare) left me feeling dried out on a deep level. the best remedy for that was a trip to the mediterranean, where we spent a day in netanya on the beach and splashed in the water as we gazed onto the blue horizon. absolutely beautiful. i think for the next week or so, i am going to go back with a group of girls and just hang out on the beach, relax a bit and enjoy the end of summer before i start getting “serious” in school programs.

oh, another highlight—the dead sea. i didn’t think it would be as incredible as it was. honestly, telling someone ‘oh yeah, it’s great, you really float’ means absolutely nothing to anyone who hasn’t actually walked in and been bounced right out. no wonder they thought jesus walked on water.

so other than that, we have done the usual rounds of tourist activities, hiked ein gedi (nice waterfalls there), went up to tsfat in the north (which i intend to revisit, because there are a lot of artist galleries and not-scary alleys to explore…the whole city is built vertically up a mountain, it’s awesome, and the air is so clear and fresh up there—they say it is one of the 4 holy cities of israel, and that it’s element is Air…anywhere you look out beyond the houses and buildings, you just see mountains. there is a lot of mysticism buried in that place, and i want to get my hands in it!!). we went to yad vashem, the holocaust museum, and had a talk with a survivor—it laid a heavy feeling into my chest, and whenever i think about it, it is quick to be revived. somehow it became so much more real than all the images and movies we consume. i spent a weekend with yossi at his friend nir’s house, which is on a moshav (a kind of settlement, like a kibbutz, but less socialist), and it was gorgeous. we walked through “his” fields of fig trees, grape ‘vineyards’, sunflowers, helping ourselves to the fruit of the land as we climbed to a hilltop and saw 360 degrees of endlessness. for such a tiny little country, it sure feels gigantic.