Day 3: Blisters

Today was one week. The first day of my week. Oddly enough, today was also the day I took the 63 bus and walked with hands and eyes glued through the neighborhood we used to live in. It was hard to see all the familiar sights that were my shared life. I'm trying to see the best in things. Putting one foot in front of the other and attempting not to topple over.

I saw Itai this afternoon and his new apartment on Allenby. I met his friend Avi. I watched more football then I have ever in my life. All complete with the Hebrew broadcasters. First the Manchester Utd. verses Chelsea, then a game with Tel Aviv. It was too much, but we had Pizza. Pizza with sweet potatoes. Then a long walk home.

There is this terrible blister on the bottom of my foot. I'm walking lopsided, which is how I feel. I feel like the territories. Locked in and fighting with inaction to freedom.

I miss the rats. I think there are less cats in Israel. Still not sleeping well, but hoping for the best. Trying to muster it up to travel. soon. soon.

Day 2: Yitzak Rabin Dances

I woke up today feeling worse than the last. I truly was riding on the crutches of my friends' kindness and hospitality. I slept without sleeping, as the faint Israeli sun crept in underneath my sleeping mask, and it transitioned to dawn with my eyes wide open. Finally somehow I slept, but not for long enough, just enough to make my eyes a little less heartbroken and fear stricken. When I woke, I couldn't quite pinpoint what I was doing here. If I was here of my own free will or simply out of longing and indecision. Tel Aviv and the whole of Israel seemed impossible to wrap my mind around.

I was invited to a BBQ for the graduate students at Tel Aviv University. My first pita and humus from this trip. And the amazement, as Israeli salads continue to entice me with vibrant flavors, so raw and earth filled I had forgotten the essence apart from processed meals. Katrien and I walked through neighborhoods I knew only as part of someone else. Now I had to discover them alone, but small steps.

I realize that people don't want you to hurt, and most understand loneliness better than you would like to admit. Most people can see that lost uncertain look in your eyes and know you didn't put it there. I believe, no matter the country or region, people all hurt the same, well to varying degrees. It has helped me to realize this fact about humanity. It has helped bandage the wound that is salt. That is this singled out worthless feeling.

News bulletin: I went with Katrien to the Yitzak Rabin memorial service today. The small crowds that began to mill about the square, mostly Israeli youth (Israel Scouts) and some older die hard fans. I never expected to see the people who came to speak, Ehud Barak, Tzipi Livni, Shimon Peres, a Knesset member, and Barak Obama, (but only on a big screen with subtitles). These people who have impacted the world so much, were not right before my eyes only a crowd's jump away. I even managed to snatch a souvenir. One that supports a 2-state solution and is a welcome indication. Of course, Netanyahu was no were to be found. The echoing "boos" for Ehud Barak were the next best thing.

After the interludes of singing tributes and memorial shout-outs, we drifted from the crowd and started to move towards Katrien's room mate's party and pizza slices. I forgot how much I enjoyed Israeli pizza and all the odd powders and sprinklings. After stuffing the last bits into my mouth we went into the bar...the bar on the street where I used to live. The street that made me so afraid of Israel, Tel Aviv, every aspect.

I tried to loosen up...to relax, to be myself. I was tired of feeling so disconnected and sad. Most of all, unloved. I don't know how it started, maybe just having good people along with you. Either way it was nice. I had fun...I sang to terrible American songs. I yelled the chorus to Guns & Roses, "Sweet Child of Mine." It reaffirmed that I wasn't terrible. I wasn't a drunk or wanting to hurt anyone, only trying to lick my own wounds.

I danced. It felt good. I wasn't dancing for anyone, except myself and that was enough. I even caught myself in long-lost photo poses.

Maybe I can do this... I don't think it is so hard. Or as hard as I made it seem... I won't lie, there's a lot of pain and wandering love with no place to stick, but if I try maybe I can be strong. I can be the person I know I am.

Until tomorrow...

Day 1

Day 1: In Tel Aviv complete with my own little mattress, pillow, and sleeping bag. I forgot how foreign everything feels here. How the distance really hits you and makes you sweat. Searching for strength, all while realizing how much of yourself you have lost.

Katrien and I took a walk to get myself acquainted with the neighborhood. I forgot how big Tel Aviv is or maybe never knew. Only the city center --the streets of King George, Dizengoff, Allenby remain firmly implanted in my memories of living in Tel Aviv.

It feels like the first time in a lot of ways. Words jump out and bite me with their familiarity, but I still have trouble placing them. The white block street signs with their black letters, directing you in Hebrew, English, or Arabic. The dirt that coats the streets and gathers under your feet like chalk.

I know I am far away from rural Amherst, Massachusetts and even further away from my home in Kanas City. I'm trying desperately to unscramble my brain and figure out what I'm doing here. There is so much fear built-up beneath my skin. My body and brain keep screaming at me, "Run back to the train station...Run home...Run and regress!"

It is difficult because until the night hours of Sunday November 1, I never thought I would be alone here or alone at all. I had forgotten how to be alone. What it means and how it feels to be abandoned by the one warm body you thought you knew and loved. Things change so suddenly and our brains fight with such fervor to resist it. We want so much to run back to the nook. I can't help missing his body. The way my head felt when it laid on his chest or how my body curled into his.

I don't want to be damaged and broken. I hate this lost scared feeling. I keep trying to fight it. I want to focus on my studies or something less terrifying. So while my brain is walled off to the world only sounds creep in. The children playing in the park across the street. The scooters, car horns, traffic flowing from the highway, buses humming past, engines stalling are all signs of a city --I city that scares me, but it's only a city.

All the windows have bars, so you couldn't jump if you tried. The blue sky and blinding sun together they make a natural kind of heat. The kind that reminds you that you are alive and there is blood in your veins traveling from head to limbs and back again.