An American Tale of Two Cities

Writing this journal is actually now making me feeling a little seasick since its distinctly further from real time than when I started out which makes living in the traveling moment a little bit challenging. That said I have spent the last three months planning the next week during the previous so I guess it must be the thinking in three directions that finally blows my brain. However as the song goes I will survive, and this should be my biggest problem!

So I think I must have left you last midst my Crocodile Dundee experience. (Yes I know I didn’t rough it so much but I did go from Alice Springs to New York – via LA within a week). Yes that was quite a culture switch but I don’t know whether it was the anticipation or the time-numbing effect of three flights in 2 days but it passed rather smoothly. Smoothly albeit bizarrely – Thursday 9th May was Groundhog day for me. I’m sure I woke up and had breakfast twice and as the main flight from Sydney to LA showed 3 films – all that I’d seen – that only contributed to the growing deja vu feeling. Three hours layover in LA was no less disorienting as the prices in the airport seemed to be the same as Sydney (the $ sign remains the same even if the market value doesn’t)

Finally arriving at JFK airport the end of that long Thursday I made my way in a cab with a fellow backpacker, Nora from Ireland, to the Upper West Side of Manhattan where I was to be staying with my friend Abby Carmel – ex- Katamonite now current resident of the Westmont block on Columbus and 96th aka the Dorm. In a manner quite usual for the Jewish single population of the Upper West Abby shares a flat with 3 other women (probably paying way more per room than one pays for an apt in Jerusalem). If staying over night in a Bedouin tent is classed as a travel adventure to get to know the population then I think that staying in a block with a doorman should be the same. It’s amazing – someone to take messages for you, hold your key, be there to receive deliveries and parcels, plus of course giving an extra feeling of security. This particular block is jam packed with Jewish singles (I walked in on the first night to meet Emma Saffer, a primary school contemporary whom I hadn’t seen in a good ten years, in the lift.) Potentially claustrophobic as another ex-pat Orlee explained to me – when you move to NY and you have no family it helps to have plenty of people to meet literally on your doorstep.

Of course this is not the only way to live as a single in NY. I visited another friend Dana who’d just made aliya from the East side. She managed to nab a great deal on a studio, which was offered to her by a realtor who overheard her mobile phone conversation moaning about her apt all whilst in a clothing store! Dianne, a friend I met while traveling, lived slightly further down in the Eighties and has clung onto her apt for five years saying she much preferred the brownstone over the doorman approach to apt blocks any day.

My whole trip in the US and Canada has been based around visiting friends. When I decided to make Israel my home I didn’t realize how much that would mean I had homes all over the world. And NY was no exception. As well as the great hospitality shown to me by Abby and her roommates (and her parents) I spent and enjoyed good times both with friends that I had planned to see as well as those that I bumped into. Special note must be given to my friend Rachel who shlapped herself and her 3 kids (all under the age of three) in from New Jersey plus thanks to Karen for allowing me to totally surprise Lawrence (or should I say Rabbi Lawrence) Hajioff just before he was about to give a lecture. Last seen partying in Fallowfield in 1994, Lawrence has since seen the light (the Happy One to be exact) and is now a rabbi living in Monsey working in Outreach. Stranger things have happened…

On my first morning the weather was beautiful so the most appropriate thing to do seemed to be was to walk. So walk I did, so much so that I ended up walking 50 blocks down Amsterdam Avenue to my friend Karen’s office on 42nd and 5th - what an amazing view! And I quickly remembered that much of NY sightseeing is the people as well demonstrated by Carrie in Sex in the City - you can get away with wearing anything in New York.

Then of course there’s nothing like a NY street for good window-shopping and I don’t mean just the huge stores. I love the colourful delis and the specialty shops – shops just selling wallets, shops just selling teapots, a Café Shoe store, Whole Food supermarkets selling non-dairy chocolate milk made out of almonds and “Just veggies” snacks designed to eat like popcorn - dehydrated peas and carrots resembling dehydrated vomit if you ask me but its all good! I love the detail and the quirkiness – Signs advertising a recession sale… in a restaurant; customer appreciation day in another; a pizza place offering deliveries to Central Park and the megaphone from an ambulance getting traffic to move out the way in sarcastic tones “if any of you feeling like waking up!” On the subway a sign requests “Good looking people please move down the car” and a delicate parking sign outside the Met on 5th Ave declares “Don’t even think about parking here!”

My walk also reminded me how expensive everything was for someone thinking in shekels (or any other currency apart from the dollar for that matter). How lucky I was the last time I visited as it was all on business expenses! [a moments silence for the extravagances of the dot com era please]. The main visible change in the city in comparison to then was the replacement of dot com hype with all kinds of 9/11 related media. Whether it was twin tower postcards, memorials, appeals for financial help for victims or adverts for auxiliary services to families of bereaved its all around you. In a calmer way than a few months back but people are definitely still talking about it and there’s the 9/11 perspective to everything. The patriotic look is most definitely in with stars and stripes festooned everywhere. Photos of skyline views of Manhattan are on sale in abundance with and without the twin towers (the latter often preferring Spock like beams up to the heavens in their place). Part of the new 9/11 collection include rusty girders at Ground Zero in shape of a cross together with the American flag plus the famous picture of the three fireman hoisting the flag. The twin towers definitely live on in New York souvenirs even if they don’t always get the years right.

Its true that New York has a distinctive look, it is after all the city that all other cities try to copy. To try and capture that look, I bunged a roll of black and white film in my camera for my stay. Can’t tell the difference when taking the photo but hopefully there will be some nice shots. My tendency to get snap happy is normally good but sometimes there are scenes or views that just can’t be caught on camera. Ignoring that instinct can lead to endless rolls of flat pictures buildings too big for the lens, skylines to distant to impress – the camera just doesn’t get it so I need to learn to commit it to my minds eye instead and learn to record the moment in a different manner. Easy to say but when traveling I’m often dogged by that gut feeling that I need to take a picture to prove I was there or as the ancient philosophical conundrum goes – if no photos or video are taken and no-one saw it did you really bungee jump?!

Anyway the big culture shock was going from the distinctly non-Jewish backpacker trail to the more Jewish than Israel New York “scene”. On Shabbat I experienced “the scene” by making an appearance shul at O.Z shul (pronounce oh-zee) Friday night, the Jewish Center upstairs minyan during the day plus meeting on the great lawn at Central Park on Shabbat afternoon. It was very interesting to watch and I knew enough ex-pats to not feel on the outside. (I do love Central Park and was to have a good walk while playing catch up with my friend Liz who has just arrived in NY before hunting out the crowds). Saturday night I ended up at a surprise party for a friend of a friend Naomi Lipstein with more of the same crowd so all in all I think I survived quite well.

On Sunday following a great brunch at Abby’s parents who live in the Seventies overlooking the Hudson I escaped the uptown scene. I went to visit Jeff a friend from Israel who lives in a loft in Tribeca (I promised I’d stress that) an area that I must confess I hadn’t heard of before although its famous residents include Martin Scorcese, Robert de Niro, Al Pacino. Its location is actually in its name – TriBeCa stands for the “Triangle Below Canal Street”. (Incidentally Soho is also named after its location – South of Houston Street, pronounced ow , its connection to Soho in London still not sure). After walking and shmying around the area we decided to get a taste of the New York comedy scene. Starting at an improv show, which was quite good we moved on to the Comedy Cellar for some real stand up. This proved to be excellent value for money ($10 plus two drinks) with non-stop good (mostly) comedians from 9-12 and later (we just left then). The only guy who was really obnoxious I actually saw later on in my travels – he had a one-line role in the film Spiderman! The latter BTW is a pretty entertaining movie albeit just a set up for a sequel. Spot the scenes that MUST have been added post 9/11 (spoiler – people on bridge helping to fight Spiderman’s enemy shouting – you attack one New Yorker you attack us all!)

On my first visit to New York a few years back I had three main complaints
1) the money is stupid – all the same colour making it impossible to tell a $1 from a $100;
2) if you’re going to charge tax put it on the price tag label and;
3) why do I always need change and not bills for the buses and subway.

Nine years later at least the Metro card is cool - $17 a weeks unlimited travel on subways and buses, which is pretty good value for money. I zipped around on the subway whenever I wasn’t walking and felt very safe and independent. (I nearly caused Abby a heart attack on several occasions when I came home late at night on the subway although the worst – I could visibly see the shame and embarrassment – was when we said good bye to Rachel and I walked out in Manhattan with no shoes on! Abby I love you dearly and I couldn’t even dream of being as elegant as you!!!)

I did do a few touristy things mostly when meeting up with my friend Becky (remember from the Melbourne e-mail) who was visiting NY for the first time on the way to Israel. We went to the Met and apart from heading straight to the café enjoyed our saunter around when we eventually started! I really liked the Modern Art exhibit as I’ve begun to appreciate the sense of space and relaxation that large vivid pieces give me. This was especially helped by the wonderful architecture of this particular building. We also caught the ferry from Battery Park which took us out to the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island and the new Twin Towerless skyline of the Financial District. We just passed Ground Zero on the bus on way down to the ferry. I had thought of going down there especially but having spoken to a number of friends it didn’t seem appropriate.

A slightly less touristy highlight of my trip but memorable and 100% Manhattan all the same was the Manicure and Pedicure I had at a local Korean Beauty Parlour. It was fab – both the luxury of it all plus the amusing conversations (with fellow clients not the manicurists they chatter to each other in Korean) about such matters as my travels, nail colours and of course the pros and cons of a Brazilian wax!

After a week in the Big Apple the time came for me to move on again and at a futile attempt to save money (talk about locking the gate after the horse had bolted years ago) I followed up a lead I’d got about cheap buses from Chinatown New York to Chinatown Boston. There are several bus companies that run these and I think they’re basically the Chinese equivalent of the Monsey Minyan buses except there’s no stated dress or modesty code! Having to go down to the company’s office (in a shopping center under Manhattan bridge) to get my ticket this definitely proved to be good practice for any future traveling I might do in non-English speaking countries. I ended up asked directions to the office through a child translator, as so many people around me didn’t seem to be able to speak English. I also had never been to a Chinatown that had so little English displayed. I finally managed to get my ticket and I must say that apart from a slightly late departure it was an excellent service and all for $15 less than the Greyhound (it would have been $15 cheaper still if I could have got a later bus)

Heading out of Manhattan via Queens giving a different perspective to say good bye which was a pleasant change. I chatted to the other non-Chinese passenger, a freshman student at NYU, who in addition to giving me recommendations for my visit to Boston also pointed out that there are more dead people in Queens than anywhere-else as there are cemeteries galore. Not sure how this ended up to be the case. Answers on a postcard please.

The bus delivered me very comfortably to Boston by four where my friend Joel Kaye met me. (Dr*) Joel is doing a post doc at Harvard (kvell kvell*) while Sarah his wife is working for an Israeli/American Hi-tech company as a technical writer. Meidan their 3 year old studies Disney Sing-a-long videos, specializing in Aladdin and Under the Sea. They all made me v welcome and I spent a lovely all-at-home Shavuot at their home in Brookline. (BTW it really is pronounced Brookline and its not just Lloyd Grossman being pretentious!)

[*Joel left Israel 5 days after giving in his PhD thesis and it transpires that not too many people are aware that he is indeed a Dr. In gratitude for a week of great hospitality I will do my small bit to right this wrong]

As I hadn’t been to Boston before I decided to be a bit more touristy. I’d been told that I’d like Boston as it was not a typical US city – narrow streets and alleys with hardly a grid system in sight. And that this was where the real history was said to be…

Accordingly (and with the weather after a rather miserable weekend) Family Kaye and I set off for Plymouth (of rock fame) – a v pleasant if typical looking New England town - and visited all the sites that told the stories of the first pilgrims who came to America on the Mayflower and the first ships in early 17th century. As Sarah succinctly put it this was all very interesting if you’re into American history [or coincidentally as one of the most famous American historical figures Abraham Lincoln would have put it “for those who like this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing that they like”]

Aside from the rather under whelming sight of Plymouth Rock (fairs fair it is a rock – never said otherwise) we also visited Mayflower II a mock up of the original ship commissioned in 1951 to commemorate wartime cooperation between US and England. Built based on 17th century images of English merchant ships it was actually sailed across the Atlantic and the crew were issued with Elizabethan clothing for publicity stops. (Apparently they stopped short of simulating scurvy). More impressive was the Plimouth Plantation (different spelling intentional), which is home to a real life mock up of a pilgrim settlement including very talented guides dressed up and acting as pilgrims of that era. Walking around their huts (approx the area of a Manhattan studio) while they cooked lunch and worked on the land you could learn a lot as they told us about “their” lives all in very convincing Olde English accents (and Dutch as the pilgrims came from both countries)

The Pilgrims were not explorers but rather had came to settle and to find a New England, as they were being persecuted for their religion in England. They were Puritans who had tried to purify the newly formed Church of England, as it still seemed to be too much like Catholicism. (To give you an idea of the level of their Puritanism their explanations and dress reminded me of Blackadder’s aunt played by Miriam Margolies in Blackadder II, the one with the funny shaped turnip!) They were Separatists who believed in strict interpretation of the Bible and had established their own illegal congregations when they had been dissatisfied with the official churches of their parish. In settling the land they hoped to have their own religious freedom and in time educate the natives and bring to them the “way of the Lord”.

As well as the good intentions as expressed above, the pilgrims and the other European travelers brought such delights as tools, clothing, flies and infectious diseases and took away tobacco and slaves to help fundraise back home. Very eco-friendly…. Not!

The Plimouth Plantation also included a mock up of a Native American community but this time it was staffed by “real” Native Americans who spoke about their lives today as well as their community’s traditions. They believe that the land didn’t belong to people – people belonged to land (another poor defence against European invaders). The Wampanoag, as the community is known do not have a religion but rather a spirituality, based on respect for Mother Nature - one creator. This respect is extended to animals as they give us food and clothing. Animals are regarded as teachers and they believe that each animal has it own spirit. We heard some of their songs or chants, which they sing to tell and pass on their traditions. Old favourites include the Mocassin song, a fast dance so named as you dance until your moccasins wear out; the Fish song, dance to the side like the gills of a fish and the Duck dance, a more aggressive mating dance played at weddings and other special occasions.

Today the populations of the several Wampanoag communities collectively number at about 5000. Before 1620 there were 100 different communities. Great, I now visit a third country to hear stories of massacres of indigenous populations. Mmm – I’m surprised that there isn’t a worldwide campaign today to boycott British goods or to impose sanctions on England as the more I travel the more I find that the main factor behind most ecological or political conflict are the British!

The Wampanoag of today are a mixed group, very few being of direct descent with full Wampanoag ancestry. Back in the 17th century the pilgrims had tried to convert them, selling them their clothing and “giving” them their language. They had the Bible written in Wampanoag which actually preserved their language, as theirs is more of an oral tradition. Much of the tradition was lost as most of the communities that live on today are descendants of those that became Christian and assimilated in order to survive. Traditions were lost as survival became more important than remembering dances and songs. There are written accounts of the community life several hundred years ago but they were written by the pilgrims who didn’t really understand their ways. Today’s communities tend to prefer home schooling over public schools and one community actually has its own school instead of public schooling. They still wear traditional clothes and cook foods. Our guides spoke about the hardships their communities had suffered in quite a diplomatic and calm tone however later on in my US trip I sat next to a Native American on a bus who told me that unfortunately much as it is hushed up, segregation and aggravation of their communities by whites and the establishment still continues to this day.

Now if in Kansas you follow the yellow brick road, to get a good feel for the city of Boston you follow the red brick road (well line) aka the Freedom trail. Covering a good part of downtown Boston this is a free route which leads you to many of the important historical sights around the city. Choose a nice day to walk and take in the State house on Beacon Hill - Boston’s Golden Dome or the Granary burial ground - named for a nearby storehouse where many famous people of that era are buried including victims of the Boston Massacre and the legendary story teller Mother Goose. Go past Old City Hall and see the statue of the Democratic donkey, see the balcony from where the declaration of Independence was made, smell the Italian restaurants in the North End by Paul Revere’s house and much more. There are museums at many of the stops (I was too cheap to go in) and paper guides to the route are easily obtained from tourist info. The trail ended at what I thought was the US Constitution. It was only when I got there to find a ship and a maritime museum (free so did go in there!) did I realize that I had misread it and that it was the USS Constitution - duh! One important stop of Jewish significance on the trail worth mentioning is Milk Street Café which is kosher yet unrecognizably so (ie its that nice), serves great milchik food and …(and here comes the bargain bucket bonanza for this e-mail) is 20% off between 2-3pm! So time your trips well!

At one point I saw two men in colonial period dress just hanging out on the corner chatting and drinking coffee. Due to their regalia it was quite a funny sight. Having taken a photo from across the street I went over and asked them why they were dressed that way. It transpired that they were educational tour guides for a school group (who were just getting lunch in McDonalds). They were leading a ten day trip on the theme of American independence spanning Boston, Plymouth, Philadelphia to name a few. Apparently they remain in costume all the way through and the tour took an experiential approach as they felt that that was how the students would learn better. As one of them quoted: “Tell me and I will forget, Teach me and I may remember, Involve me and I will learn” - Benjamin Franklin, which is a quote well worth quoting! They also turned out to be really frum Christians who were fascinated to hear I was from Israel. They firmly believed in the US supporting Israel in the Middle East and felt that it was their moral duty to do so. One of them said to me that as far as he was concerned when David beat Goliath that was when “they” had given up an entitlement to the land. I smiled and just encouraged them to one day come visit as there was plenty of room for fancy dress experiential tours back home!

Other trails I took included my own unofficial TV trail. I snapped away at the place “where everybody knows your name”. The Cheers bar does look exactly as it does on the show from the outside but not from within. I resisted the souvenir temptation – sorry no Cheers shot glasses Ashley – and settled for the pics (I even took one in black and white to try and get the look of the credits). Other than that a walk around Beacon Hill gives you some of the look from the Ally McBeal series (last ever episode broadcast the week I was there) although we know that both that show and the Practice are filmed in LA with Boston images bunged in as fillers.

Boston is a bit like the Seinfeld episode where he has a girlfriend who is really pretty from some angles and hideously ugly from others. There is building going on everywhere. In fact they’re so big and have been going on for so long the road works responsible for turning the city’s over ground highways into underground roads are referred to as the Big Dig. Freeway conversion aside the combination of classic buildings together with mirror type skyscrapers is quite stunning. Due to a spate of fires in the 18th century most of the classic buildings seem to have been rebuilt (at least partly) so they are not quite as old as they look, but the effect is still good.

The city is of course also famous for its academic institutions, most notably Harvard and MIT. However, these are just 2 of the 60 colleges in the vicinity. I arrived the weekend to a sea of red as it was Boston University graduation or should I say commencement, which is the correct term in the States. In order to take in some of that academic splendor I arranged to go on a cycle trip to Harvard Square. Cycling is a great way to see a city especially when the route is flat. I was the only person on the tour so I had a personal commentary given to me by Lyle my guide. Our ride started in Boston Common the oldest park in the US where the Puritans used to graze their cattle, took us through the Public Gardens (statues and botanical stuff), down Commonwealth Ave Mall which in actual fact does work on a grid system (roads go alphabetically) and onto the main road by the Charles river crossing on Harvard bridge going from Boston to Cambridge.

Whilst we rode I learnt all about the lead up to Independence. How George Washington led colonials forces in Cambridge as the British who had narrowly won the battle of Bunker Hill but had too many casualties to advance were on the island of Boston (much of Boston today is built on landfill). Washington got colonials to prepare to attack Boston from the south by placing cannons around the island. This allowed them to successfully threaten the Brits until they left and Independence was declared shortly after.

By this point in the story we had reached Harvard Square famous for its multitude of bookstores and colourful population. It was very happening but basically it is a university precinct and looking at the nearby residences and being the shopaholic that I am I can imagine that 3 years spent here would be 3 years well spent (literally – literally!).

Cycling into one of the University Quads I learn more about the institution. As the story goes, one of the libraries is named after a guy who owned a lots of books and died on the Titanic. His mother donated books and a building but on the condition that the building was never rebuilt or rededicated for another cause (as had been done with others). She did this by specifying that a replica of his office be set up within the building, complete with fresh flowers to be changed regularly. She also demanded that in order to avoid a death such as her sons again that a swimming test be part of graduate requirements, which indeed was the case until quite recently.

We passed the statue of John Harvard, which sculpted by the same guy who did the Lincoln memorial in DC, is also known as the 3 lies statue. This is because: a) It says that John Harvard was the founder which is not true – he was just rich and donated a ton of books and the university was renamed after him a few years after its inception; b) the date on the Statue for the founding of the university is a couple of years out and; c) the image is not of him but rather one of the locals as the Sculptor never actually met John Harvard.

The Great Hall of Massachusetts was built to house all the books he donated but alas they were all burnt in a fire several years later. They were all burnt except for one, which had been stolen by a student (it was reference only in those days). Returning it gladly to show that not all was lost the university thanked him profusely and then subsequently expelled him for stealing university property.

All in all the campuses and buildings that we passed were charming, picturesque, the lot and I just loved my cycle around (15k in all). I thoroughly recommend cycle tours for rapid city acquaintances!

Having explored downtown quite a bit I decided to go for one of the few day trip possibilities from Boston and I chose Salem of witch trials fame. First impressions were not the best as the train definitely comes into the ugly side of town and its wharf and there seemed to be lots of lawyers offices down the first street I walked, but the town later showed itself to be very quaint and New Englandy and had nothing else as scary as lawyers!

Salem’s local Tourist Office chose to emphasize the mercantile history of Salem and the local county of Essex and less its witching past yet all other shops and museums were clearly obsessed by the town’s magical heritage. Following friction between groups of settlers the town was named Salem following a suggestion by Rev Francis Higgenson to encourage peace. The local synagogue today is in fact Temple Shalom.

The whole Witches trial story happened between June and September 1692. I chose to go the Salem Witch Museum (one of many) and this is what I understood to be the basic storyline. During the Salem trials – men and women, young and old were arrested on suspicion of witchcraft as defined as making pacts with the devil. 19 people were accused and executed. The first trials began after a group of girls who had been gathering at the house of a local minister to hear stories by his black servant woman started showing signs of madness. Twitching and speaking in tongues these signs didn’t seem to have medical causes but rather the hysteria was thought to be signs that they were possessed by the devil. When the girls were interrogated and challenged for their behavior they turned on different members of the community accusing them of witchcraft. One thing led to another and before you knew it there were major trials being held. In those days it really wasn’t difficult to whip up accusations as the community basically lived under a climate of fear anyway thanks to the surrounding Native American population, disease, the British authorities and the ministers warning of the evil of the devil every Sunday morning.

As an educational side exhibit explained, this was all a classic example of fear and trigger creating the need for a scapegoat, a pattern that has been repeated time and time again in world history.

Having seen the many kind of different shops in the area ranging from gimmicky touristy to full on professional e.g. one shop - Crownlover Corner, Purveyor To Witches Around The World.”, what really interested me was to hear what people who today identify as witches really believe. Probably not new to all of you but modern day witches, Sabrina and Samantha notwithstanding, are followers of the Wicca faith. The Wicca faith follows old pre-Christian Pagan beliefs, which are very nature-based, celebrating the change of seasons and with no connection to Satan at all in the practice of their religion. Those who practice this faith are called witches (men and women) and they worship a God and Godess. With Celtic and Greek roots they have several central principles including ‘harm nothing and do what you will’ and ‘everything you do comes back 3 times’. Much of their beliefs would come under the modern day banner of New Age. Clearly going back in history the Church converted the Pagan (non Christian) woman with healing powers into an evil witch and used this image to frighten their constituents into faith.

I finished off my trip taking a walk by the nice side of the wharf and passing the House of Seven Gables, which is where the author Nathaniel Hawthorne lived and wrote the book the Scarlet Letter. I did wander in to the lobby of the museum there and judging by the conversation going on with the lady at information and a couple of visitors they could probably do with putting up a sign o the lines of “No this isn’t Anne’s house in Green Gables – that was LM Montgomery – try the Prince Edward Islands up North!”

I returned from my Salem visit just in time to have supper with Sarah, Joel and the Hallgartens (Jason and Miriam of Bushwacker fame), who were just in from Israel for Miriam’s brother’s wedding. Other evening activities included going one night to see a preview of a great new play, a black comedy, “The Ten Unknowns”. Most enjoyable and not just because I was getting to the theater twice in 3 months! Its subject was the crisis faced by an artist in his later years and the true meaning of Art which was a good prelude to my visit to Boston’s Museum of Fine Art. There the major exhibit of the moment was an Impressionist STILL LIFE collection (the latter detail I didn’t notice until I’d paid). This is not a subject that would normally thrill me but it was good for my Art History education to understand why and how these artists sometimes chose inanimate objects as their subject as opposed to landscapes or figures. Following on from my experience at the Met I also enjoyed their American and Modern art collections. So despite a rather steep entry price the visit proved worthwhile.

This being my last day in Boston I decided to end it by learning about possibly Boston’s most famous citizen – JFK. The JFK museum has a wonderful white and peaceful exterior and waterfront setting slightly marred by renovations. (Remind me to return to Boston in a few years time when hopefully all the work will be done!). The museum began with a film taking us through JFK’s life until his nomination as presidential candidate. The rest of the museum consisted of memorabilia-rich exhibits telling of his presidency, achievements and legacy he left. There was an outstanding number of artifacts (I especially liked the letter from Winston Churchill thanking him for making Churchill an honorary US citizen) but of course being the official collection there was little of the gossip and stories behind JFK and his famous family.

And with that after one last visit to Harvard Square (to exchange my book – I’ve now worked through seven books on my trip) it was time to leave Boston and head out (pronounced oat) to Toronto.

Amidst all this city travel I had thought that it would be a nice idea to link my US and Canadian visits by driving up and traveling through the Niagara Falls region. Following my Australian experience I chose the overnight option, leaving Boston’s South Station at 8:30 pm. I’ve secretly wanted to take a Greyhound ever since I found out that Billy Joel didn’t literally ride on a dog when he got in a New York State of Mind.

I was pleasantly surprised by the level of camaraderie by passengers on the bus – a mix of people returning home to various destinations on route. Although this soon turned to some kind of cross between the Ricky Lake show and Survivor when one guy got another guy chucked off the bus for being drunk and disorderly about half an hour before our first stop in Albany. Meanwhile at Albany the change over driver forgot to show making us over an hour late with everybody having to make different connections, a situation, which no amount of TV (sit down and watch – a quarter for 15 minutes) would console.

By hook or by crook we did manage to get moving and eventually make it to Niagara Falls (the Canadian side) at 7:45 am (I was actually quite happy that we hadn’t got there much earlier!) Unfortunately the weather was very grey and overcast and the place itself was very tacky! Don’t get me wrong I can enjoy tackiness with the best of them but not so much when exhausted and wet. I did take the Maid of the Mist boat which sails right by both sets of falls (US and Canadian, the latter is more impressive) and got to appreciate the sheer strength and enormity of the waterfall despite the lack of contrasting sky colour!

I hung around a bit (actually a bit more than a bit as I was so out of it that I managed to sit in the bus terminal and miss the announcement for my bus) until getting my bus through to Toronto where I was to stay with more ex-pat friends – Marissa and Joel Muscat.

And that is where I shall leave it – tonight I fly to England and in two weeks I’m back in Israel. (wow!!!) - Happy Jubilee to all my English correspondents and much love as always to everyone else!

Return to the Red Center

In life one measures achievements and successes in ways appropriate to ones environment. Early Tuesday morning 30th April 2002, I realized that my powers of acquisition had exceeded my lifting capabilities or in layman’s terms my eyes were bigger than my luggage allowance. For it was on this day that I first toppled over whilst wearing my backpack! Recovering from this minor yet memorable set back I walked around the corner to a neighboring hostel where I was to meet to join my next trip.

Having completed the East coast route the time had come to visit the Australia that I’d always read about in books, heard about in songs and seen in the movies – the outback, the Bush, the Red Center. Call it what you will – but you know what I mean – dirt trails through scrub lands, towns with populations of 6, hats with corks on, lots of 4X beer and horizons shimmering in the distance.

There are of course literally thousands of miles of outback to choose from. The route that I was to travel was Cairns to Alice Springs which talking of movies was advertised in the Oz Experience book as the “Priscilla” route. Despite the lack of giant high heel shoe on the top of the coach, (and no there were no sightings of a cock in a frock on a rock at any point during our 3 day trip!), I willing boarded the red “Desert Venturer” bus. By this time I’d teamed up with Sabrina who’d also been waiting at the hostel and we grabbed ourselves the front seats on either side of the aisle and in front of Spencer and Amy from Toronto who I’d met in Cape Trib giving us both a social position plus clear view of road ahead which promised to be good.

Our bus driven by Mark – a kind of fatherly kind of driver figure set off up the Kuranda highway reaching 1000m before descending to the center. The route took us through more rainforest country stopping at Millstream Falls allowing us to say one final good bye to the lush greens of the North East as well as saying good bye to other things such as traffic lights, tarmac and thankfully the last McDonalds until Alice Springs. A sad landmark to point out, I know, but the golden arches really are so ubiquitous. Most “adventure” trips you have to sign a “I wont sue if I die” form. As one of the drivers once commented, in the tourist industry adventure is often defined as going anywhere further than 20km from a McDonalds!

Soon after this green departure the trip actually turned into a ride that closely simulated trips on the M1 - lots of bland countryside, grey skies and rain. Perhaps to divert our attention from the distinctly non-outback looking scenery Mark decided to educate us about the area

The main industry of the vicinity used to be timber hence the empty countryside where once was rainforest! The really valuable wood was the red cedar, which became known as cedar gold as anything in its way was burned felled in order to get to this prized commodity. Since the area became World Heritage listed in 1987 the industry has been halted much to the indignation of the locals, as it was basically a family business. That said since then tourism has now more or replaced timber as a major money earner for the region – something that would have not been possible if they had continued to deplete the rain forest.

Next we were also shown a video on kangaroos (well half of it till it fizzled – say good bye to the VCR for the next 1900km!) Apparently the male kangaroo spend their entire life working up a community hierarchy for mating rights whilst women concentrate on caring for young. This rather conservative division of labor is different to all the reptiles and birds where equality reigns relatively freely. That said the child-rearing female has quite a bit of autonomy. She can decide when to have babies (as she stores the fertilized eggs from the mating so the bloke can come along to be told no means sorry still got eggs to fry!) and can choose the gender too. She will normally choose to have her females when young as they stick around whilst the males go off after a year. All the kangaroos I’ve seen have been quite fun and charismatic but one thing I noticed that contrary to pretty pictures of the Joey’s head popping out of his mothers pouch, more often than not you see a rather awkwardly positioned paw hanging out instead that can leave you feeling a bit queasy.

Anyway today’s journey was relatively long at 754km. I guess when you get used to traveling such distances your whole time perspective evidently changes. Take Mark’s announcement at 12:00 for example “As we’re getting nearer for lunch I’ll tell you how it will work” Fair enough but the lunch stop wasn’t for another hour!!!

(Packed) lunch was eventually taken by Lynd Junction Pub the smallest pub in Australia. Food was not the highlight of my trip (more tuna, vegetarian cheese and corn crackers - see rice crackers but replace the grain) but I did get a chance to finally have a proper chat with my mystery parallel group of travelers who I’d just missed about 3 times before (see Brisbane, Fraser island and Cape Trib reports). Spying them when I’d got on it made me think that maybe if you’re destined to meet up with someone then you can just leave it up to fate and you will! (Hey sounds like a film plotline there….)

By the afternoon the M1 scenery had changed to outback although not the conventional desert look as you’d expect. Firstly we now find out why it’s called the red center. Due to some funky reaction with iron oxide the ground is literally red. It’s a fantastic sight especially driving down an endless dirt path. I could sum up the afternoon’s driving as miles and miles of eucalypt forest but that wouldn’t do it justice. Imagine the same but the trees have green leaves and black trunks are surrounded by tall yellow/green grass with a back drop of clear blue sky and all the colors are very deep and bright. Add to this backdrop, flocks of coloured birds flying along and free wheelin’ brown and white cows and you might understand why I was so taken by the view

Cows you say? Whats that about? Well basically the whole route runs through cattle stations, which are bordered by fences and cattle grids. (Oh check out the new come-back if someone calls you a cow – tell them you can’t be because you don’t fall down the grid) Apart from these the cows can roam where ever they want which obviously includes the roads. Its thus up to the drivers to look out for the cows and vice versa. This meant that we often found ourselves playing the game “chicken” with some either pretty courageous or suicidal cows (in fact the game has now been renamed “cow”!). Unfortunately not all vehicles are able to or care to slow down such as the giant trucks, called Road Trains, which pull up to three huge trailers and roar through the outback. These get right of way on the 2-way highway with one lane (drivers in cars move to the side) so you can imagine the cows don’t stand much of a chance. So if you see a cow laying legs up the side of the road I hate to break it to you but its not sunbathing!

Anyway so that was the landscape almost all the way (past Porcupine Gorge an impressive canyony gorge kind of thing on the side) until the scrub savannah appeared maybe 10-20 minutes before we arrived at our night’s destination, Hughenden.

The second day promised to be more relaxed as we only had to travel 572 km! Leaving the Grand Hotel (the town’s local pub basically) around 7ish, the main highlight of the day was the town of Winton established in 1875, named after a suburb of Bournemouth, the hometown of Banjo Pattison the author of the infamous Ozzie ditty, Waltzing Matilda, the Bush poetry capital k, plus, if that wasn’t enough also the place where the concept of Quantas airlines was first dreamt up. Not bad for a town with a population of less than 1000.

Known best as the commercial airline with a spotless record (Thanks Dustin) Quantas actually stands for Queensland and Northern Territory Air Service and it was in Winton where the first board meeting was held to establish it in order to provided a much needed service to the outback. I’m not sure by whom or much more detail than that but there wasn’t a museum all about its history. I can tell you what a billabong is though (a deep waterhole) as there was a whole museum devoted to the town’s Waltzing Matilda heritage! Yup a whole museum about a song originally written for the shearer’s strike of the 1920s which has now become a “Song to the Soul of Our Country” according to some! As explained by Rolf Harris (on tape on the bus alas and not in person), the song is about an Aussie hobo with a swag (bedroll kind of thing) he calls Matilda and it basically makes a hero of a fictitious suicidal itinerant worker.

The museum was actually quite interesting going into the history of the song, legends about its authorship (music and lyrics), its meaning to the Australian nation, different versions, outback slang and its origin. Sample slang would be saying riding shanks pony or waltzing matilda or going on the wallaby to describe traveling in the bush. Plus I finally understood the nickname the Katamon Aussies gave my ex-flat mate Miriam Braunschweiger. The Bushwackers were an Aussie pop group who also released a version of the famous song!

Two more stops that day, one at Middleton, a town with a population of 1.5 (the barmaid is transient) and Cawnpore lookout which I basically mention so I remember what I’ve taken a photo of! So many of these stops are just stunning views and miracles of nature but its hard to remember which is which etc and the worst becoming blasé – “Oh yes here’s another incredible canyon blah blah” Less attractive but significant all the same we also we passed the largest manmade structure in Australia a trans something dingo fence. (Yes I know my fact taking has become a bit shoddy and no I don’t know if its visible from the moon!)


Back on the bus (with cow vaccine to be delivered to our night’s destination – such communal spirit) the crowd began getting restless. So out came the bus bowls - lots of fun for everyone especially when the guest MC introducing the players and taking the crowd through the playoffs was me! You can tell I’m relaxed with a crowd when I’m comfortable enough to let me entertain! Actually the people on this trip really made it for me. There were a couple of groups of friends, but mostly independent travelers out to be friendly and have a laugh. Age didn’t seem to matter (I was well up in the highest percentile but thankfully Toronto couple were older) and I really think a good time was had by all.

Second night we stayed in Boulia, home to 300 residents and the legendary “min min” light which is kind of on par with the yeti and the loch ness monster but more light less monster. It’s said to be a shining light in the black of the night, which appears at night without notice and follows you. Some of us thought of suggesting to the locals that maybe it was a car light but then decided to leave it. After all stuck in the middle of nowhere they really don’t get much entertainment! (Trust me we were staying a floor up from the local bar!)

Our third and final day and we were up before the sun as we had nearly 800km to cover. After stopping for the sunrise we head onwards first crossing the Tropic of Capricorn and then the border of Nothern Territory (we’ve been traveling in Queensland up until now). Wierdest thing about that was putting our clocks back by half an hour! I’d never moved in half hour time zones before!

Stops were very few and far between today (what a good thing that we all WERE getting on well!) Pictures next to a huge termite mound taller than the bus was followed a few hours later by lunch at a cattle station, followed a few hours later by a stop at the general store of an aboriginal community Atitijere. We didn’t meet any of the locals or hear much about the community but it was pointed out that this was one, which its leaders had declared alcohol free in an attempt to correct some of the social problems that they like others have experienced in recent years.

Finally getting of the dirt path and onto the Stuart highway at 6pm we eventually arrive in Alice Springs as dusk drew close. To celebrate our arrival in Alice Springs, capital of the Outback, we are treated to pizza and tacky but fun Club Med like evening at one of the local hostels which resulted in Friday being a VERY laid back day! What was especially nice was that about 9 of us ended up having supper together on Friday night (I had the Osem pasta dish, they had chicken, noch!). It was so nice as what I like about Shabbat more than anything is the social relaxing around the table. By that time they knew quite a bit about Jewish stuff. Funniest comment had to be Jeff-Prince-William-look-a-alike-gap-year-boy from Oxford. He told me that he thought his Dad went to a Jewish school. I thought perhaps he was referring to Clifton College that used to have a Jews house but he actually meant Haberdashers!!!

Shabbat was more relaxation – said good bye to the girls who were off on their Ayres Rock tour that morning and then hung out exerting myself a bit to go out to the viewpoint at Anzacs Hill which looks over the town. Alice is pretty modern has all the conveniences of a regular town (population of 25,000) in contrast to the small places we’d been hanging out over the last 3 days.

Oh well no long term rest for the wicked, on Sunday morning and at the unrecognizable hour of 5:15 I was up dressed and ready to be picked up for my trip to Uluru aka Ayres Rock. When I say unrecognizable this seemed to be the case when by 5:45 still no show so I called up the company at 5:45 only to find out that our tour had been combined with another one so the starting time had been changed to 6:45 but whoops they’d forgot to tell us (I was with another couple at our hostel)

I don’t want to spend the rest of the e-mail bitching so I’m going to get it out of my system now: Unfortunately the company that I traveled with let me down somewhat. The tour was advertised as “unleashed” ie big hikes, camping away from conventional campsites, off the beaten track etc but it ended up being a just like a standard one just more disorganized and not at all away from the crowds. I’d also specifically chosen this company over another cheaper one because of the so guaranteed quality. (Lesson learnt never trust travel agents that work on commission!) In addition the make up of the group (probably unfairly contrasted against my last wonderful experience) did not make for good optimum bonding - 2 couples plus 4 girls who’d lived together in Perth. The people were nice but no one had real incentive to get to know new people. The guide had a bit of an attitude too although he did know his stuff. We kept bumping into the group from the other company who seemed to be having a great time, which was a bit frustrating. Then again when I got back I got an e-mail from a friend from the Desert Venturer bus who’d gone with that company a day or so before and had had a not too good experience either so I guess the lesson we learn from that is that it really is random. And more importantly not a reflection on me when things aren’t perfect! (Sounds crazy but any of you who know me well will understand)

OK vent over, now let’s get back to the trip.

Finally on the road again, the familiar red road brought back some serenity with the delightful black cockatoos flying around, occasionally resting on the phone line, flashing their red tails as they flew. Meanwhile nearer to the ground, sitting up front again I did get to see my first wild red kangaroo. Unfortunately it was dead and driving past it we managed to scare off a winched tail eagle (Australia’s largest bird of prey with a 2 metre wingspan) from its hearty breakfast albeit momentarily. Other interesting wildlife included wild camels! Although an introduced species (from the Canary Islands) they’re actually not too much of a pest as they don’t do much damage – they have padded feet and graze while wandering so never over graze in one area. In fact Alice Springs is known for its camel races which are rather popular

As we were driving in a 4WD we were able to take a slightly more scenic route down the Giles track named after one of the early explorers. Passing several creeks along the way (including Doughboy creek - naming conventions evidently went slightly off at some point) the Giles track eventually lead us back to regular sealed road where we reached our lunch destination near Kings Creek Station.

From there we traveled to the Watarrka National Park which is land leased from the local Aborigine community. There we tackled our first hike of the trip. This 6km walk which took us around 3 hours led us up to see the stunning Kings Canyon which gave us our first taste of the infamous rock colour and texture as associated with Uluru. The red colours of the rock together with the green were just outstanding. Please excuse the incredibly mundane way of describing a natural beauty but the only way I can accurately describe the red and green hues and successful contrast, without conjuring up a Xmas scene minus the snow, is to refer you to a v popular mid nineties colour scheme for kitchens! The green was a shade darker than bottle green and the red was a roof tile red. (I’m racking my brains for sample households - Mum, think of the Blooms’ kitchen in Rehovot!!!). Hidden in the shade of the walls of the Canyon half way through we reached the Garden of Eden watering hole, aptly named if a touch on the cold side!

It may sound surprising to hear of all the green in a supposedly desert region. The huge amount of green is the result of unusually large amounts of rainfall which is well supported by the flat landscape and subsequently well utilized by a natural system of underground water storage - plants tap roots Plant science 101 blah blah!. The terrain is now classified as a semi arid zone. As you can imagine if you get an average of 725ml a year for two years after years of much less (ok I don’t have figures) its going to radically affect the plant communities of the area and indeed bird and plant species have returned after years of absence. Just as a comparison the Negev has less than 100ml of rain a year.

Both nights we stayed either in or just outside campsites (very unleashed, not! bygones!) That night suitably tired after our days efforts, following food cooked around the old camp fire we did go to sleep under the stars (tents are for girlie cowards) Do not fear we did not tempt frost bite or any lurking friendly but poisonous snakes for we slept in swags which not only protected you by covering you totally but also sneakily provided a really comfy mattress which made it one of the easiest sleeps I’ve had camping.

Next day I’m woken up by a kick on the swag (such is the etiquette… ) and we’re off traveling three hours to get to the Uluru- Kata Tjuta National Park passing Mount Connor on the way – another great mountain which can be easily mistaken for Uluru by the uninitiated. The plan was to visit the Aboriginal Cultural Center in the morning and then hike around Kata Tjuta (aka the Olgas) today and to visit Uluru the following day. As you can see the trip to Uluru entails more than just that one specific site. Kata Tjuta is a collection of domes (36 in all I think) standing as impressively (if not more so) as Uluru, just 50km down the road. We took a looped walk along the valley of winds named for obvious reasons and enjoyed more of the same terrain as Kings Canyon (yet this time a bit more curvaceous and no water). Much of the area is out of bounds due to religious beliefs (see below) but we were able to get some good views of the neighbouring domes from this trail.

Now the big question on your mind now (apart from where on earth does she find the time to write all of this – answer to that is don’t ask!) is whether I climbed Uluru. Well I had heard previously that it was a religious site so I’d kind of already decided not to out of respect. Our guide’s philosophy when asked was to let us go to the Cultural Center, read about it and decide for ourselves as he felt it wasn’t so clear cut seeing as the climb was still open.

Ok so this is what I learnt about the Aboriginal culture which sadly was not too much (well probably enough detail to handle but nowhere near enough from personal testimony)

The Aborgine people have their law known as Tjukurapa which describes the relationship between people and places, their environment and creation and acts as the basis for their social, religious, legal and ethical systems. They believe that the journeys of ancestral beings (tjakuritja) created all features in a world that was originally flat and featureless. This creation when the world and people began is known as Dreamtime (also known as Tjukurapa). Every Aboriginal is related to one or more of the Dreamtime ancestors. The law is passed on through song, dance, painting and ceremony which allows them to refresh and pass on their knowledge of the legends and features of the landscape which to them are the complete and truthful end of the Tjukurapa. This knowledge is only passed onto appropriate people at the appropriate age. Therefore the older one is, the more respect they accrue because their knowledge and skills are greater. This applies to both men and women).

Reading this with my yid- tinted glasses I couldn’t help but seeing parallels with Judaism - Lets leave the lack of monotheism out of this for the moment – but on a ritual level. All the songs etc sound a lot like an Oral Law to me as it originally was and we all know that despite Roseanne and Madonna’s attempts otherwise that there are parts of our law such as the Kaballah and Zohar which are traditionally studied by people over a certain age and with particular learning standards only.

Further still all Aboriginal communities have their own land. The traditional owners of the Uluru land are the Anangu . Ngura is the name they use to refer to the place where they live. Thus they have Tjukurpa (the law), Ngura (the land), Anangu (the people) and they believe that all are interconnected and if you take one of them away the others cannot survive. That is why it is important for them to live on their land and look after it properly. Anyone whos been to as many BA mifkadim as I have couldn’t possibly miss the parallel there!

The rock has always been very famous for its climb but the Anangu don’t believe it is right to climb Uluru as the climb, (which incidentally looked and apparently is dead hard), is the traditional route taken by initiated ancestral Mala (Rufous hare/wallaby) men on their arrival at Uluru. The official reason they give for encouraging people not to climb is that they feel that while we are visiting their land they have a duty to look after us and they would feel great sadness if anyone dies or is hurt on the climb (Uluru has indeed claimed its fair share of victims) Instead they recommend the walk around the rock which is what we did in the end. It was quite awe inspiring as it is so immense and there are areas traditionally used for preparation for religious ceremonies and you could feel the tranquility that would foster the appropriate atmosphere for this. On certain parts of this walk photography was forbidden, as these were areas used by initiated members only. A further aspect of the Anangu belief is that the Tjukmiya still exist and can be seen through nature and thus one needs to see more than the photo of a place – to see the spirit within making them quite anti-photography.

As I mentioned although the Anangu were returned their land rites in 1985 the climb does remain open to the public. Matt our guide was a bit cynical about this as he said that if they really don’t want people to climb then they could just shut it down, suggesting that they were tempted by the national park fees received. I, wishy washy liberal to the end, understood it to be part of a friendly compromise made with the Australian government when the land was given back as they have made a lot of changes to the area to how it was in Ayres Rock days (Ayres was an Australian governor a couple of hundred years back)

Before 1985 there was a pub, campsite (site of the famous Linda Chamberlain – a dingo stole my baby - affair, post office and even an airplane runway at the foot of the rock. Now this isn’t just Brighton Rock you know. Uluru is a huge monolith, literally one huge red rock that can be seen for miles around (it actually stretches about 3or so miles below the ground too!). It has a plethora of different shades of red depending where the sun is hence the fascination with viewing it at sunrise and sunset (we did both). Its shape projects major shadows and a walk around reveals ancient paintings and markings. How anyone could think of putting a resort at the bottom is criminal. Religion aside there should be a law to protect natural beauties against plain tackiness (spoiler – just been to Niagara and I see such a law there would be way too late!) Surely you don’t need to be religious to respect natural beauty?

I feel that the Aboriginal community has probably suffered at least to a certain degree as a result of a lack of good PR, which due to the structure of their beliefs is kind of inevitable. Not only are there areas that are so sacred that uninitiated people cannot visit them but also there is much of their culture that cannot even be explained to outsiders. Kind of makes getting to know with European invaders you a little harder I suppose.

So with that it was time to head on back home. Our long drive back was broken with a stop about an hour outside Alice at a little known gem called Rainbow valley. Again another iron oxide trick – this time interacting with sand stone to literally give a rainbow effect which we watched change colour as the sunset

Back to Alice that night there was just enough time to reconnect with Sabrina, Charlotte and Vickie from my last trip until flying back to Sydney the next day. We even fitted in a bit of education when in the morning we visited the Royal Flying Doctors Base. Its amazing the work they do - flying miles to reach their patients covering emergencies, mercy calls and regular health care and all that with no government support (plus paying 10% tax). Also did you know that lots of doctors consultations are done over the phone or radio, yearly medicals have to be booked a year in advance and that pregnant women have to get to a town six weeks before their due date.? All very interesting although unfortunately no guest appearances by Shane from Flying Doctors and before that Neighbours (don? kid yourself about maybe seeing these superstars. Did you know that the actor that played Rick Alessi is now a tour guide with Adventure Tours - the company I don’t like and apparently the actor who played Todd works on the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb?!)

That afternoon I flew back to Sydney and spent my last 18 hours in Oz at Bondai not surfing but shopping, interneting, reading etc. Found a nice bookshop on the same road as the Hokoah Jewish social club that had an acoustic singer who did great funky versions of bootlicious and THE kylie song in a kind of jazzy way. I stayed at Noahs Backpackers - a good way to get me excited for normal housing again but it was well located. As promised I took the Bronte walk from Bondai to the neighbouring Bronte beach early in the morning and was dazzled by the sun, the blue sea and the millions of joggers.

And what with one last final shop (best bargains always in that last look) before I knew it I was on the shuttle bus to the airport - NY here I come!

So that’s it from the southern hemisphere so before I leave (metaphorically of course – I’m in Toronto already!) I’d just like to get on my soapbox and talk about a couple of issues that came my way during these travels.

Firstly I’d like to say that I am jealous of French people living in France or for that matter Norwegian people living in Norway. Confused? Well at least when people say where are you from they can just say France (or Norway if they’re Norwegian otherwise that would be lying) and then move on with minimum judgment or perceived judgment. While traveling I often get asked “So where in England are you from?” and partly through ideology and partly just through kharma-needing-honesty I would answer well I’m from London originally but I live in Israel now. This would start a chain of questions: how long have you lived there?, why?, are you going back?, what’s it like?; are your parents Israeli? so you’re not really Israeli then, leading onto my explaining my Jewish connection to Israel etc. Even though this is often over in minimum time it still reminds to me that I have to convince people of who I am.

This can be quite discomforting, to feel that I can never just blend in unless I hide part of me. It even makes me think sometimes who am I kidding – I sound English, I understand the English but then I realize I haven’t lived an English life in 7 years and have no plans too in the near future either. When I meet English people I can get nostalgic about TV programs but when I meet Israelis I talk about life. There’s probably no resolution and I need to accept that I’ll be explaining myself for quite a few more years to come. It reminds me of the Achinoam Nini song Ilanot or Oranim (I forget which tree) when she sings about having roots on both sides of the Atlantic.

Secondly I’d like to propose that age is in the eye of the beholder. I could have easily returned from this trip feeling the oldest person alive (ooh don’t think I’d want to do that) as most travelers were younger than me but the truth is their reactions to my age is what will keep me going back for more of this travel thing. I think the public consensus was probably that I was about 24/5 max! And I didn’t really mind fessing up to my age after a while because I felt like I was being an ambassador for the 29s (I refuse to say 30s until that’s true!). I’ve definitely enjoyed myself more in the last year or so than I have for years and anyway now there are all these early twenties people who believe that they might still have their own teeth at the age of 29!

Finally (and this is more of an observation than a major issue) I’d like to officially announce that the age where piercing and tattoos were signs of anger and rebellion is well and truly over. I must have seen hundreds of them when I was away yet I don’t think the word anarchy or tory pig was uttered once, no-one (disappointingly) insisted on listening to angry girl music instead of borgoise pop and a couple of people even said they went with their parents to have them done

Oh well we live and learn…. Ok time to collapse.

I’m back in Israel pretty soon three weeks today I think. England people get ready – I’ll be over there before you know it

Wow cant believe it…. Ok got to sleep

Love and carpal tunnel syndrome