Massachusetts: running into end tables

I flew back to Massachusetts today. The destination, it all seemed so predetermined I forgot to think about my own readiness. Forgot to think about how badly it would seem. The empty room. The rats. The boxes and red suitcases strung all over the floor.

I am stuck in a narrative I don't even know if I can believe. I all seems so foreign to me. but I suppose it's what everyone does. Fighting off the anxieties you have some so quick to accept. Preparing a world that is drawn around your illustrations. I haven't spent an extended amount of time here, just enough to have the rats and re-sort a room. Though, not much sorting. It has all been laid out in front of me. A puzzle that isn't too complex, but just enough to displace the familiar.

A room without signal. Wooden fragments of book cases. When all those who felt it necessary to remind me of a world I didn't know I had created. Now back in the thick of it... I feel like I should have been much more productive. I ate an old Brooklyn or New Jersey bagel for diner with some possibly older cream cheese or yogurt.

I had a dream of drinking month old seltzer water. It came true. The Polar Springs waiting for me. The smell of dirty rat cages staying stagnate longer than I can remember. All that stands before me is the steps to twenty hours. I wonder how these people think I am absorbed enough to drive to them and re-emerge myself in all that made me wrong.

Who decides what is wrong and right? It must be someone awful that does this to someone. A surgeon leaving it all raw and rotting. Waiting for my needle and thread.

I can't fix all this. At least with my bed four feet off the ground. For now there is '70s French pop music and ability to pretend to distract.

Even my hair brush. Well, oooooooooooooooooo. Brush harder and you will become absorbed in your gentile self. Word to the wise... should have just gone to Ein Gedi and gotten lost in the desert.

Day 13: Cold Seas & New Chapters

Back from Elat. A long night at a new bar in Elat with Avi, Shakar, and his girlfriend Mai. I fell asleep without thinking once back at Shakar's apartment. A friend of Avi's band played at the bar. I don't think they played until midnight.

Elat is so cold at night. The city reminds me of a Florida knockoff. And is filled with roundabouts. No stoplights, except one flashing monument to remind drivers of the days of traffic monitoring red, yellow, and green lights. Today Avi and I went to the nature reserve on the beach and snorkeled. The Red Sea was so cold. I kept swimming and hoping my body would adjust to the water. It never did. Still there were amazing fish and pockets of coral. A school of tiny translucent fish swam above me and the sunlight caught each one of their bodies. Filling the sea with rainbows...small swimming rainbows. My lips were blue for hours. The shower at the beach didn't help much. One of those showers with the chain you pull and hold for water. My hair is matted and tangled.

After we ate at the Falafel Boutique, "best falafel in all of Elat." Since 1970. The man was an artisan. I heard his father owned the shop before him. All just in time for the 5 o' clock bus back to Tel Aviv. The 5 hour bus ride. That drives through what seems like no where and every once in a while stops to pick up riders, and I wonder where they come from. Only desert... for miles or kilometers. Once you pass through the mountains the world seems to flatten. You look out and clusters of lights are off in the distance. Mostly kibutzim, I think.

Tel Aviv's central bus station was desolate. The bus got in a little after 10:00 or 22:00. I made the always time consuming decision of taking the number 5 bus. Making its way through all of Tel Aviv city center. Finally, after nearly an hour I was back at the Arlozorov bus station. A short walk back to Katrien's and a bowl of pasta with tuna and eggs.

Shula is sitting on my lap. After visiting the cities of Israel, I realize that outside of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem security isn't as intense. Most stores don't check bags. The airport in Elat is in the middle of the city and there's no guard at the bus station riffle through your things.

Israelis are very on top of their American television. I have learned some interesting things about hash. I now know why my body used to tingle and feel immobile when I spoked. Never buy hash for kiosks. I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow. I definitely have gained some strength here.

Picking up the pieces of myself. I know I'm coming back a better stronger person. A person that had to keep moving. A desire to not be alone and kept me from thrusting myself into a busy intersection. You start to see life for how painful and wonderful it can be and usually is. I don't know if any of my questions about Israel were answered, but I learned some things. I met new people. Made new friends. Walked through days with Israelis and old friends.

Tomorrow I fly back to the states. It's funny because I don't think anyone believes that's where I'm from. Always asking, "Anglia?"

Now the challenge of facing the past again and retelling the end to a relationship. Although, hopefully not too many more times. At least I have nothing bad to say. I'm not angry. I know I could be, but I don't want to be... you have to believe things in life happen with some order or purpose. I'm starting to realize what my father says about new chapters. I tried to figure out how many I have waded through, sometimes struggling. My number is 5.

Day 11: days pass in travels

All around me echos the Arab world. Jordan's flag flying high just across the sea. Saudi Arabia's port standing desolate. Sparse buildings. Driving until the signs read "shalom" and you're entering the Sinai.

Avi and I took the bus from Tel Aviv's central bus station yesterday afternoon. A five your ride through the desert and weaving through moutain passes. Listening to the grunting sounds of the bus shift gears as it curves around sharp passes. Passed a lot of Kibutzim and stopped at a McDonalds in what felt like the heart of no where. The desert is cold at night, and the winds here are strong and constant. The Red Sea is beautiful, despite all the giant barges. It is the off season so the dirt rock brown beaches are empty, except for locals.

Before coming to Elat I was in went South of Tel Aviv to Yafo. I stayed with Anna for a few nights in Jen's empty room.

Day 8: Yaffo, self & cemeteries

With tired soles I slept last night. I fell asleep pondering the situation in Israel, while trying to push away a bit of myself... smooth over the healing. I woke to up and prepared for my journey to Anna's and Yaffo. Also packing additional for my potential trip to Eilat. Spent the afternoon with Anna. Talking and collecting my mismatched pieces of myself. Recollecting moments and time until I think I spun into tangles.

We walked to an Arab cemetery that I was long forgotten, except by squatters and a black cat that followed me as I wove in and out between risen cripts. Some dismanteled and devasted. Clearly not a Jewish cemetary... A few headstones in Arabic were signs that someone was protecting the lost. I thought about death and how after your body turns cold it doesn't matter so much how you rest. Lucky to still have blood running through my veins and lucky to not be forgotten.

The sun set several hours ago, which for all importance in Israel signifies the transition to shabat. Possibly my least favorite day. Maybe it's because I'm not Jewish or I don't have family here... or I just never really felt the need to have a day of rest revolving around parents, siblings, significant others. Some days it's just too much. Israelis and marriage... the fear of being alone and being unwanted. I try to chase that fear out of me. I don't believe in rules on love. If I did I would be circling the pass and plowing into maddness.

Days with friends are always a seed for strength. People mention this possiblitity of "together again" and it rattles my brain. It doesn't see likely. I don't fall asleep wishing for it, although some part of me probably does. I fall asleep wishing to not wake up with it. I go through each day here counting down, but worrying about the room. The big empty room. The rats I need to take care of. The things I have to face... the places I have to go and miles to cross to get where I'm going and back again.

The weekend with Anna and Yaffo will be nice. It doesn't help to remember the world is so wrapped up in men or boys. It does help to know everyone else is just as wrapped up in it.

Day 6 & 7: Jerusalem, adventures in the unholy city

Finding myself back in Tel Aviv with sore red feet and throbbing limbs. Yesterday I left for Jerusalem. Knowing then I didn't have a camera, but was willing to give the city a reflective glance that I could not capture. I have survived a week in Israel, and now longer than a week alone. Still trying to understand the word alone. Osnat keeps worrying that she will not get married and end up alone. Questions exist here that I don't believe penetrate the states, like what will the fathers think. I never thought love could be so dictated... by age, religion, etc.

Last night I stayed with a boy, Elia and his room mates in Jerusalem. They lived near Mt. Scopus at Hebrew University. It was a relief to be with students and to have a feeling you weren't being taken for your money or tourist looks. I went to a concert with Elia and his friends. After a day in Jerusalem following the path of Jesus and his Roman conquerers, I was more than happy to catch a bus out of the city center, Merkaz.

Still... I keep asking myself, what is it that draws the strangest people to me? The old man, Hiam from the bus that kept rubbing his elbow against my chest and asking me to travel in Israel with him. I had never been so happy to get off a bus. Sliding out of my seat and onto the street with a quick good-bye and not even a second to check the map. I never realized how big Jerusalem is, although I walked the same streets often without knowing it.

When I escaped from the apartment this morning, after almost being locked inside, I passed the holy mosques. I keep thinking about Israel... peace and war. War crimes. Crime existing in conjunction with war. The constant threat and fear that drives a state to militarize itself. To become the stronghold for the Middle East. Erasing the fear of the call to prayer at sunset. Passing settlements. Wearing a cross and feeling protestant without knowing the rituals of Christianity or the holy books.

As I meet more people, I know that peace in Israel is not possible. At least not any time soon. And it's strange because in Hafia and Jerusalem there are so many moments fixed with graffiti that prove the Arab world is here. All makes me think of the Jewish terrorist that was arrested today. He is accused of killing both Palestinians and attempted murder of Israelis, although I think all were Arab. He justifies it with God and his mission. Even worse or more expected, he is from the states, from Brooklyn. Radicalism prevails in all forms.

Today was spent passing time. I watched a lot of hours turn into the next. Less than a week left. Tomorrow I'm going to Yaffo to stay with my friend Anna. I like the apartment here, but it will be a nice change. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself once I'm back at Hampshire. I wish I didn't have to go back. Too many tattered memories and shattered.

I need to sleep.

Most beautiful girl in the room vs. Cute girl...

Day 5: Hafia & Pool Cues

Traveled to Hafia today. I'm starting to realize I'm a lot stronger than I thought. Foolishly, I forgot my camera battery, so I was walking around taking iphone pictures. Whatever can get the job done. Although, the intense tourists on the Bahai tour were a bit much. Pushing me aside with there big lenses.

More to say, but such sore feet. All shades of red and aching. But better than other parts of me, I suppose. It's nearly 3:00 a.m. I didn't get off the train until 1:30. Still the voyage was well worth while. I met Nir in Hafia and his friend Itai. We went for a game of pool. Where I played terribly, but not nearly as bad as Itai, who was making the ball fly in the air with each attempt and skipping it over the other pool balls. We went to an Irish Pub in HaCarmel. Such a relief after wandering the city for 8 hours. I never knew the hills of Hafia! I never knew there was a subway or about the Arab neighborhoods. I saw my first Santa Claus of the holiday season... Arab Christian Santas, complete with nuns dresses in white. All alongside people going to and from synagogue.

Started drawing. Kept writing. My notebook will be filled before I get to Jerusalem. There has been a lot to write about and think about. I don't think I wrote or even thought this much in a long time. I always had a crutch. It was still a beautiful relationship, but people have to get better. They need to know they need to get better. I think realizing I wasn't a good person to him sometimes was an eye-opener...

Made me realize what drugs can do.

What space can do.

What a world without a world can do.

What too much sadness can do.

What too much time in a room can do.

What it looks like to get stale.

And watch someone else go down.

A lot of weight. Hearts heal and I'm remembering that you only live once. Being reminded how young I am. Nothing is hopeless. Even if you have a soulmate, there are too many people in this mad amazing evolving world. Time to grow like all the flowers that lined the streets of Hafia and filled the gardens peeking up under barbed wire.

I have started collecting things from my days. Another goal. Not just writing or sketching or soul searching, but remembering why I'm here. The purpose of my travels. What I had hoped to do with him, and learning I can do it alone. Keeping in mind what a close friend said, to change my perspective of alone. But I can sound to false... there is still pain and wounds to heal. Still, it is good to keep moving.

Tomorrow Jerusalem.

Day 4: Ernesto & the Beach

Another morning waking up to the sounds of playing screaming children. Shouting "ima" and so much energy. Last night I dreamt in Hebrew. It was strange, yet sort of made my understanding of dreams a bit better. Maybe our mind's aren't as expansive and our dreams are not so enchanted as we would like to believe?

Katrien left me the key to the apartment, which allowed me to gather myself a bit before I left. I think I have been afraid to listen to music. For whatever reason...so today I started singing to myself. It was something I did when I was sad or lonely, but haven't in a long time. Definitely interesting to hear what I mind and our hearts spout out, especially the broken ones.

I decided today would be beach day, since I had not been to the water yet and people seem to find peace and calm from the sea. After walking to the bus station and finding the number 5 bus to take me to the city center, I walked a few short blocks to the sea. There were a lot of memories of my time here before scattered on sidewalks, street signs, kiosks, even the sand and the rocks had ghosts. I sat in the sand and wrote for a while. I tried to draw, but my mind doesn't feel as free and everything comes out all wrong. Maybe my heart isn't in it?

I walked along the beach for a while with hopes of seeing the sunset on the water. Instead I ran into a man named Ernesto. Somehow I knew he was going to stop and talk to me. He spoke English and said he was from Spain and lived in Israel for 45 years. He reminded me of my coffee shop dwelling older friend, Willy from the states. He had intense expansive blue eyes. They almost captured you. He sort of was like an empty vessel. Very hard to read and lonely. I was happy to have someone to talk to and have a cigarette with. He played guitar and asked me to come to the desert (Ein Gedi) with him. Of course, considering everything... I had no desire to go. I could half imagine what it would have been like. Mail order brides? No, no, but he was a little bit crazy. He admitted it, though. We had coffee together. He sang a song. It sounds odd, but it was okay. Nice to not be alone for a few hours and have someone to talk to, even if they couldn't stop asking my age and took about an hour to learn my name.

Once it got dark, I decided it was probably best to come home. I had the apartment key and with the sun setting so early I could not tell what time it was. There is always a long walk ahead of me after leaving the city center. The beach is quite a distance. I walked for a few blocks and in stead of checking my map I took the long way home on Dizengoff. Somewhere on Dizengoff my blister burst. I thought about the story of the boy dying after his blister popped. For a second I imagined dropping to my knees in the street and then hitting the curb dead. Taxis would still be honking. People would step over my body to get to the shops or where ever they might be going. But it just burst. I felt the liquid in my shoe and the flap of skin squeezing, oozing into the earth and kept walking.

Tomorrow I am taking the train to Hafia for the day. I need a new city to roam around. I'm still a bit anxious when traveling by myself, but I think each day is making me a bit stronger. No matter the terrible heartbreaking things I am hearing about my relationship all the way from the States and even here in Israel, I am doing my best to stay a float. I know that is what I have to do. Even if our hearts wander... I need to make peace with the emptiness. Slowly I am and realizing it is not worth fighting or masking or drugging. Just expose it and let it breathe and keep the sand out of the fleshy mess.