The Con itself

Stepping into a hall lit purely by fluorescent lights rebounding off of white and unpainted steel girders, before me are lines of ready-waiting geeks ready for a full day of gaming. And buying.
"This is going to turn into an orgy of spending before the week is out," Chris says.
"I hear you. My money's already low and this won't help." I say as I wait for the guard to open the barrier to turn us loose inside. Some of the patrons are dressed in gear representing their favourite game, comic or TV character - cosplaying, it's called - and some look good, and some don't. Mostly, they look good, because great efforts have been put into these costumes, and the vast majority of the costumed are good looking girls wearing very little. The ones who look not so good would be the overweight boys in tight, leather pants. Yes, it did burn my corneas.
Walking along the purplegrey carpet, I examine stall after stall after stall of nerd gear - magic cards, D&D miniatures, warhammer, warmachine, comics, star wars, star trek, anime, etc. etc. etc. - stretching far as the eye can behold. All at cheaper Con prices. To the fore and the left are giant screens, playing 24-hour Anime screenings, and screenings of the latest games and even some Anime karaoke. These areas are also used for lectures and seminars - two of which I went to, The Mistakes Most Writers Make, and Hot Tips for Fiction Writers. However, beyond all this, lies the land of games. A vast space of just tables and chairs, stretching to the far corners of the conference hall, five times the size of the stalls area. This is where the gaming takes place, some tables for trading card games, some for board games, but the most tables of all are reserved for the RPG - role playing game - players. Vast amounts of tables and chairs reserved purely for us to park our asses on and play in 4 hour gaming sessions to experience the new 4th Ed of D&D. With miniatures. We had 4 such gaming sessions planned, and not one of the DMs we had - not ONE - was not overweight. I mean these guys were BIG. Alex turned to me at one point and said, "This Con has seriously reevaluated my definition of fat." which, I had to say, was true. Most of the men were either scrawny and pimple-faced or fat. But, most of the girls were amazingly good-looking. Or fat. It was truly an eye-opener.
Besides from spending hundreds of dollars on graphic novels and useless junk, wasting away hours at RPG tables and gawking at CosPlayers, we also ate. And slept. Though, very little of the latter for we had to rise early after going to bed late as our buffet breakfast closed at 10, and we wanted to be in at the Con by 9. Sighs all round. Mostly, we ate Mi Goreng. For those of you unfamiliar with Mi Goreng, of which I am sure there are very few, Mi Goreng is the Asian equivalent of Maggi 2 minute noodles. But with better spices and more of it. We lived on two bowls of this more or less every dinner for an entire week. I more or less don't want to see any ever again.
All in all the Con was good fun and we were bummed when it ended. But we're looking forward to next year when we will all Cosplay...odds are Batman villains or something...I get to be the Joker...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Does it smell like Nerd in here?

I'm an epic geek. I like fantasy movies (sometimes), and sci-fi (when it's good), magic cards and dungeons and dragons. Most of the time, I'm not embarrassed to say this. Except for when I'm trapped in a large conference hall with 10,000 other geeks who look and smell worse than a dragon's butt (yeah, I made a dragon joke, what of it?). Most of the following are just notes from my notebook on my impressions of the trainride there and back.

Catching a train half way up the measurable coast of the country may not be the best way to travel, but it’s far from the worst. It takes 14 hours to train from Sydney to Brisbane – which is about as long as a flight from Sydney to San Francisco or LA non-stop. Same amount of sitting and less distance covered, but it’s cheaper. Sort of. I didn’t want to fly because, well, I don’t like flying all that much, and I figure that if I was going to fly somewhere I might as well be leaving the country.

“It’s not so bad,” we said as we got on the train and began the journey. As it got darker, I figured we’d get more and more tired with the endless metal tube of the train. “First Class Seats” really just means “slightly better than economy seats that are next to the food and bathroom cars” but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a worthwhile investment. Considering the length of the trip, any extra comfort was welcome. The design of the seat was obviously drawn up by someone who never had to sit in them judging by the material and the footrest concept. However, the constant hum of the train on the tracks and relative silence within the carriage made for easy relaxation. I finished the first half-read novel I had with me within the first couple of hours of the trip. I missed you already.

The meal was 8 dollars for a pre-packaged spaghetti bolognaise and was maybe worth about 5, if that. I’m generous. Better than most aeroplane food I suppose. I have a strange sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I’m nervous or sad about something. Or it’s the food repeating on me. We’ll soon see.

The people on the train are curious folk. Mostly old, some disabled. One of 2 especially bad mannered.

The train keeps stopping when I wish it would just have a straight run.

The bathroom is about as big as a plane’s. The toilet flushes in much the same manner but it has a 5 second delay before the WHOOSH! of water. Also the tap is harder to figure out. I know that sounds dumb, but there is a huge button next to the tap which says “Presto” on it repeated 3 times and you don’t know what It does until you take the leap of faith and push it.

I wonder what club you join if you have sex in a cross-country train bathroom? The mile per hour club?

The train horns sound out in the night. Listen to it, isn’t it beautiful? The trains are talking to each other – like giant, metal whales of the land.

“There’s space for a paper aeroplane race in the eye of a hurricane” – All There Is

Note for t-shirt designs: should the spray paint read “pre-packaged” or “damage control” instead? – Clothing line called Dented Matches (Harvey Dent and the Matches)

Easier to relax, but not so much to sleep.

For some shirts, use jeans material to patch holes and create parts.

Even through the mirrored glass it’s still easier to see the stars out here.

“They took my bananas!” he said as he sprang awake from sleep and rolled over, quiet again.

Sleep on a train – sucks ass. Napping is ok.

Walking on a train is like being a drunk – a constant struggle for balance.

Now travelling back and beige, flat pastures/fields and rolling, green hills pass the window in an endless motion blue – occasional breaks in the tree line cause light obstruction and causes a strobe light on my writing table.

Upset stomach – from the greasy breakfast or am I hungry? Because it seems that the smell of food isn’t making me sick (it’s enticing) but the pain in my stomach isn’t the friendly fire.

Just happy to be travelling back I guess. Midday means nine more hours…well, almost ten really…but I don’t want to think about it. – gave in and borrowed a couple-a-bucks from Francis to buy a bottle of water and a bad corn beef sandwich. My stomach feels better.

10:22 and we finally pull into Central station, all of us falling asleep in our luggage. Jesse wanders off to walk home, and Francis offers me a ride home which I accept. He and Jannali make out for several minutes, "Come on guys, save some for at home, it's not like her just got out of prison...it's been a WEEK!" It bothers me to note that the others - who flew back - had not only left much, much later than us, but arrived much, much earlier than we did. Sleep will come soon.

G'Day All

I write to you know from the pitch black 4am.

When I last left you, I was 8 hours away from a plane that would take me to Bangkok and then eventually, home. Well, that trip took so much longer than I ever imagined - for various reasons. First things first, I arrive at Ben-Gurion International Airport (Tel-Aviv) and go through security. Now this isn't normal airport security like you'd have here, this is like an intense gauntlet of questioning and x-ray scans to make sure you won't blow up the plane. First in line - and luckily the queue for these things was short because we arrived earlier than expected - was the passport check and the check-in baggage scan. They checked my ticket and passport and asked me why I was leaving the country, why I was there, how long I'd stayed, etc. etc. etc. Gran was there to make sure everyone knew I was her grandson from Australia, and SHE lived here and they shouldn't check me and all that. Well the passport lady was nice and laughed and told her she could stay with me throughout the check-in process - which even to gran. was unexpected. After they scanned the bags, we were led to another counter where pretty much their job was to rip open and unpack your bags to make sure everything is ok. I plopped my bag down on the table and he asked me "Do you have a flask in this bag?" to which I replied yes because I did indeed have one for dad and then he asked me more questions like "where did you buy it? was it always with you? etc." and I answered accordingly until finally grandma said "I'm his grandmother! I live here! It was a gift from me! Why are you asking him these things?!" the guy just smiled and said "ok ok" and he put the baggage tag on and sent us away - I was convinced that he only did this so quickly to get rid of gran. - which really wouldn't surprise me. Whilst in line for the check-in baggage grandma asked me "what was he talking about when he asked you what was in the bag?" and I told her it was the flask she had given me from her apartment - namely I said this because the guy HAD USED THE WORD FLASK (this becomes important in a moment). She said that I MUST be mistaken because the guy "wouldn't know what a flask is because there's no drinking culture here and he's probably never seen one in his life". I was so stunned by this - a flask isn't exactly something hard to understand, is it? So I told her no, that he meant the metal flask in my bag. She said "no, you're WRONG, he must have meant a bottle of alcohol, he DOESN'T know what a flask is!" To which I of course answered that I didn't HAVE a bottle of alcohol in my bag, so WHY would I say "yes I have one"? He meant the flask, damnit. We both said the other was being stubborn and moved on. Whilst getting my boarding passes and baggage checked I introduced the guy at the counter to the word "marvelous" which he then took to be his own, checked me through and that was that. So, now it was about 2 and a half hours before my flight, what to do? So we wandered through the airport to the only open eatery - a kosher McDonald's. Yes, kosher. So, my last meal in IsraelIsrael

was a KOSHER Big Mac meal...which actually, pretty much tasted the same as a regular one. When we finished, I changed my remaining shekles to Aussie dollars and went through to the gate - and away from gran for the last time that trip. When I walked through the gate and passed the duty free shops to my departure gate I sat down - and was right away bored, homesick and frustrated all at once. I felt like Kerouac in "Lonesome Traveller" - the frustrations of travelling alone. Of course I only felt this way while in transit - which WAS lonely - not while living with gran. - which was NOT LONELY ENOUGH. Though I had enjoyed my stay in very much - I missed home and was glad to be coming back. It's also kind of a blessing to be finally away from gran. and although I love her - she is just TOO MUCH. Especially after 2 weeks alone with her. Then came time to board the plan. It was 22:25.The first flight was surprisingly relatively painless. Considering it was 10 and something hours. Though it was mostly sleepless, it seemed to go by faster than the trip over. It was mildly turbulent, but mostly uneventful. Now off the plane, began the hellish stayover that was 11 hours in Bangkok airport. Though I was only away for 2 weeks it felt like an eternity - and judging by the length of this trip, it will feel the same in the airport for 11 hours. As it landed, the crowd of Israelis and Jews gave their customary clap - just as the plane literally skidded to a halt on the runway throwing some of us a little forward, but no harm no foul. As I sat in the uncomfortably warm - and humid - BangkokBangkok airport I was stunned at how difficult it had been to secure a good place to sit. Here's a little bit from my journal there: "I'm tired and drowsy and all I have is 20 Batt and the bottle of water I bought was 55 Batt - luckily I had that US$2 with me or I'd be FUCKED. Now I definitely just wanna go home. I still hate this airport (more on this later). I'm kind of hungry and I still have US$25 (which turned out to actually be US$16) but I don't know what I can get for that. If I get desperate I'll use it." Well, I caved sooner than expected in regard to food (after I wrote that it only took 20 mins for the desperation to kick in) and so I did what any self-respecting traveller would do; went and got a SUPER HUGE SUNDAE WITH TOPPINGS AND YUMMYNESS at the "Ice Cream and Fudge Factory" bar. It cost like US$8. I deserved that Sundae. Sitting in that restaurant and finishing that sundae ate up almost 40 mins. Woo. So, desperate to kill more time - I called mum at home to say I was ok. Just as I was hanging up the phone, who should I run into at airport? No less than Popi Silk and her family with Keely - friends from IGS. We were overjoyed to see each other and I hung with them for like 4 and a half hours until they had to board their plane and I had 3 and a half hours left to go.

While sitting in that airport - bored stiff and time seeming to move slower than ever before - I noticed and noted that Thai was kind of an ugly, strange but interesting language. My constant stream of thought was more along the lines of "Mustn't...fall asleep...in...AIRPORT!" So I decided to take some slow and gradual walks around the airport I hated so much. I realized something quickly though - every corner of the airport looked the same. I walked from one Gate to another, and it was EXACTLY THE SAME except for the Gate number. The shops, the seating arrangements with TV, the bathrooms, the security and the gate itself - it all looked the same. No WONDER I found it all confusing. Finally - and I mean FINALLY! - the clock ticked over to 11pm and I could no longer wait, I went and checked through security into my gate and sat.

On the Thai airways plane I noticed it was a lot more colourful than the last one and there was so much more LEG ROOM - which was very warmly embraced. Light jazz was playing over the PA and I felt relaxed. By about 1 and a half hours into the flight I had already had a rum and orange and a glass of wine with dinner - I was trying to sedate myself so I would fall asleep and wake up in Sydney - which didn't work as well as I had hoped. It was funny to note that they were very big on the wine pouring that trip, because usually they will pass once or maybe twice with the wine and that's it. This time however they went by at least 10 times. They must have figured if we were going to Australia, we must all DRINK. Sleep didn't come as quickly as I had hoped, but it DID come. I woke up to the lights all being on, breakfast being served and a warm wet towel being offered to me. I had been asleep for 4 and a half hours of an 8 and a half hour flight - not bad. It was now only about 1 hour and a bit until we landed and I was excited to be so close to home. When I awoke though my mouth was dry, having fallen asleep with my mouth open and subsequently breathed that way, and my feet had swelled up and felt like they were the size of my head - which they almost were. This was cured later on by my nap at home.

When we landed in Australia, it was easy sailing. I landed at 1:10 pm. I got through the passport control checkpoint in about 2 mins and waited half an hour afterwards for the baggage carousel to finally start vomiting out bags. 1:45 approx. my bag is finally spat out - being one of the last ones because it was one of the (if not THE) first bags to be checked in - being checked in over 10 hours before the flight. I get my bag and wheel my way over to Customs where a guy picked me out of the line and asked to see my passport and landing card, asked where I had been, for how long and if I usually travelled alone. I answered him and he took me aside - I was to be a random bag check. I put my bag up on the table and opened it. He went through my things, unpacking the bag I had worked so hard at packing, and of course having found nothing, let me go. It was 1:55. Very quick. As I walked out of the arrivals gate, I was greeted by...no one. No one was there to get me. So I called dad and said "I thought you were supposed to pick me up?" turns out he was just LEAVING the office because mum had told him that being there at 2:30 would be fine - figuring everything would be slow. At around 2:10 dad finally came around and got my and took me home where first thing I did was rip off my clothes - which I had been wearing for almost 3 days now - and took a nice, long shower. Then I talked with the family a bit, and took a nice 2 or 3 hour nap. Afterwards we had dinner and I gave out various gifts and that was that.

Soon 8:30 rolled around and it was time to attend Christmas drinks at the pub near my house - the Toxteth - with a few of the guys. It was nice to see them all again. Shame I was so blindingly tired though. At around 10:30 Tyson took me home and I went to sleep. Only to awake at 3:45am and not sleep and by 4am I was fully awake and decided to come onto the computer. Lucky I did because I had time to write this and to talk to Dom on msn - he's in Peru at the moment and sometimes it's hard to get to talk to him, so that was nice. It's now 5:32 am and I'm watching as the first rays of light come through the clouds onto a new day. My first day back home. It was good to be home. Though I was tired and drowsy, had been through frustrating airports and grandma, clearly had jetlag and was looking at a few tired days - none of that mattered now, I was home. I'm home.

Well, that brings to a close Jordan's Travels: Israel. I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I did. Thanks to all those of you who replied and commented on the emails and made me laugh - it was really great and I'm glad you like it. Next time I travel abroad, you can expect these kinds of emails to continue. Until I see y'all again, see you around, I have a headache.

Bokker Tov Everybody

I write to you on my last day here in Israel - 8 hours before I get on a plane and begin my long-as-hell trip home. But, before I talk about that, I have a lot of ground to cover about my final days here.

Impressions: This will be the last section of "Impressions" in which I detail my impressions of Israel, as it is my last day - and JUST when I was getting a normal sleeping pattern too. Oy. First off, what in the HELL is with elevators here? They are all the size of a tin can, for buildings over 5 floors high, and expect to fit 6 PEOPLE in them...and then on each trip, make horrifying noises as if to drop straight down the shaft. For a claustrophobic, not the best experience in the world - but even for the fearless it is a test of guts. Something else which I am surprised I never mentioned before, is the fact that - effectively - there is no weekend here. Sure they have Shabbat on Friday night and for all of Saturday, but Sunday is a normal work day. Nothing is open from Friday about 3pm til Saturday about 8pm. Practically the whole country SHUTS DOWN. There's no traffic which is nice though. Last of all, another little fact about gran. As a result of her being hard of hearing - with probably some part of her being self-absorbed too - she interrupts EVERYONE'S stories for stories she has to tell, or stories about her. Very enraging. When I last left you it was a Wednesday (my time) and I had just come home from the Dead Sea and Masada. Thursday was no biggie - a mid-week day of rest.

Pal Makh Museum, Jaffa Markets and Derek and Rachel's (Friday 14th - Day 11); This was one hell of a busy day. At around 10ish we went to the Pal Makh museum, which is an entirely automated museum describing the history and the story behind the foundation of Israel through the IDF (Israel Defense Force) and the Pal Makh (the previous encarnation of the defence force). The story was not only brave, heroic, inspiring - but it was also one hell of a depressing tale. It followed a group of 13 or so kids (16-19) who sign up for the Pal Makh and their lives after that. About 5 come out of it all alive. Oy gevault. There was a poem written by a war poet at the time detailing how the Pal Makh people saw themselves and their dead, and the line that best said it was "we are the silver platter upon which we serve Israel to the people" or something like that. When I was sufficiently depressed by this, we left and went out to the Jaffa flea markets. Now, the major difference between these markets and the others up to now, and those anywhere else, is the fact that you can haggle with the folk for their vendor-trash. The bidding will start at something like 50-90 Shekles (AUS$16-30) and through the techniques of calling the vendor crazy, him saying he has kids to feed, you saying so do you, him not moving, you walking away, and then him calling you back and giving it to you at your price, usually you get what you want. Sometimes they won't budge on a price, but that's pretty rare. In the markets, the vendors are usually, actually, pretty forceful. They'll grab your arm, or corner you so you can't escape their trash-hocking faces until you either escape or are forced to call for help from a nearby patron - whom the vendor then latches on to. Amusing to note, if they spot a pair of people and they notice one of them doesn't speak Hebrew (i.e. Me) they will hone in on this person and ask THEM to haggle, and in the confusion attempt to make a sale. Note: at this point it is NOT rude to push past them and flea for dear life. At one point, as we were heading to a different area of the markets, we passed a road we had passed before an a vendor we had dealt with before came running after us begging us to pay his trash at the low-low price of 10 shekles, but by then I didn't want it and he called us both crazy. When I had had enough of haggling, being grabbed and being yelled at in languages I didn't understand - it was time to head home. After a brief repose on the couch, it was off to Derek and Rachel's for a lovely Shabbat dinner. Here it is fun to note that the generous pouring of alcohol portions continues. "Whiskey and coke? Sure!" *half the glass is filled with whiskey, and is then shown to the coke for colour*. So, a good night was had by all and I got slightly pissed while we read the self-published poetry books of a friends of theirs. It was pretty awful stuff.

Dixie's Dinner (Sat. 15th - Day 12); Saturday - being Shabbat and the traditional day of rest - we rested. While I waited to get in contact with the twins or Ophira, we didn't bother making any particular plans. The plans I did have fell through for various reasons, and we decided to go out to dinner with some friends of Gran's. We went out to a place called "Dixie's". Now, Dixie's is Israel's only (I think) American themed, non-kosher, burger diner. We sat in a cubicle and ordered drinks - rum and coke - and a burger - meat with bacon, cheese, onions, quac., tomato sauce and mayo (the non-kosher special) - and waited. First the rum and coke arrived and this time 2 things were different. First of all, there was no ice, so it was warm, and tasted less good. Secondly, wouldn'tcha knowit - 3/4 of the glass was rum and the rest coke. Jesus I could've gotten tanked just on that on my empty stomach - but then the piece to resistance came. The burger. Sorry, THE BURGER. It was half the size of my head with all the fillings on it. The meat taking up half of THAT room. I admired it and smiled and a tear came to my eye as I feasted on its deliciousness. When I had finished with that and my fries, I ordered a New York, Strawberry Cheesecake - which was equally as heavenly and large as THE BURGER and damned if I didn't eat the whole thing. That put a very satisfying end to another day.

Gunshot and Shwarma (Sunday 16th - Day 13); Nothing much happened today except for going to the supermarket - but my day did start off very strangely. I had a dream during the night in which someone (one of YOU) said to me "Careful, there's gonna be a gunshot!" and then I woke up and outside I heard a gunshot echo through the empty, deserted, morning streets. Now, I know it could've been a car back-firing, but at like 5am and you're tired, and after that dream, and being in the country I'm in, your mind is pretty made up it was a gun shot. So I wrote a poem. Later that day I had my first, and last, Shwarma of the trip. A Shwarma is - for all intents and purposes - a big kebab, made in the hollow of a pite bread. But damn it was tasty.

Editorial Meeting and Marina (Monday 17th - Day 14); To start the day, I got to sleep in until around 10:30. Then gran came back home and took me out, because she had to attend an editorial meeting for the magazine she writes for and afterwards we were going to go to the marina near there, so there was no sense leaving me at home. While she was in the meeting, I moseyed over to the park across the road. No sense sitting inside when I could sit OUTSIDE. As I sat on a flat rock amongst the grass, I realised I was near a retirement home and there were young volunteers taking old folks in their wheelchairs out to the park where I was. Two of them went by me and sat on a bench about 10ish metres from where I was. There I noticed that these young folk were not even talking to these old people - as I assume they were expected to do - they just sat on the bench opposite the old folks in their wheelchairs and didn't say a word. After a while I looked up and both these young girls were playing with their phones, and one of them had the phone playing loud RnB music - oh yeah, which I'm SURE the older folks wanted to listen to. After about and hour and a bit of sitting in the sun in silence, they took them back inside. I felt a little unwell at the lack of interest these people were taking in their work - but it wasn't my worry. When the editorial meeting was over, we went to the marina. There, I first went into a shopping mall and got a couple of CDs of Israel punk/metal. One was hip/hop punk, which sounded like Linkin Park/Sum 41 and another had done a Hebrew version of Eye of the Tiger and the last sounded like an Israeli Evanescance. I was satisfied. We then went to a place called LONDON on the Marina and had lunch - mine was steak with mushroom/pepper sauce. Grandma complained about the heat of her fries. We went home. Then, after once more being unsuccessful at reaching the twins (they were at work) or Ophira (just wasn't answering phone/at school late) we went to...The Scrabble Club. I didn't think this would be too interesting either - but it actually wasn't so bad. I even got a list of 2 letter words which are in the scrabble dictionary, which sound so very made up, but in fact they are words. Like "mm = an interjection". Yeah, I know. Anyway, during this time I had my ass served to me on a platter by all 3 opponents - NONE OF WHOSE FIRST LANGUAGE WAS ENGLISH! They beat the pants off of me in their second language. Ouch is right. After suffering 3 humiliating defeats, the club was over and we went home.

Arts Markets (Tuesday 18th - Day 15); Today. First thing I slept in til 11:30 which was very nice and then we went off to the Arts and Crafts markets where I picked up another couple of trinkets. We came home about an hour and a half ago and now I await the next 8 hours until I get on a plane and come home. The beauty about my flight - I've discovered - is that I don't have a 7 hour layover in Bangkok, no no - it's 11 hours. Isn't that better? I thought so too. From 13:30 to 00:20. Balls. I thought it was 17:30 to 00:20, but I was mistaken. Oh well, I have like 9 books in my carry on to read. And my mp3. But 11 FREAKING HOURS?! Lame. Lame-core. Super lame-core. But for now it is just a lovely bit of relaxation before the whirlwind of security and waiting that is the air transit system.

Shalom on the Last Day of Chanukah

Now I know what you all must be thinking, "2 Chapters in 2 days? He must be crazy! There's nothing he could've done in that ONE DAY which could fill up another long chapter email!" Well you're wrong. There is. But first, some more observations:

A couple of small things I've noticed since yesterday or forgot to mention yesterday. First of all more on the drivers (I know, sorry!) they don't slow down for speed bumps...which makes for a bumpy ride! Also, it's incredibly amusing to me to note the Hebrew Graffiti on the walls here. It's not nearly as abundant as english graffiti is in Australia, and seems to much less threatening. On top of this, you'll all be pleased to know that I am not lacking in the feeling that Town Hall steps and the inner city arises in me - being amused by the emos and lads and scene kids. They have them here too, but to a FAR lesser extent. I have so far come across only 8 punks, and then maybe a few more emos - but the levels of lads are slightly increased, being that these ones actually look dangerous. Another thing which you will all notice if you ever come here, would be the number of guns. Every defence person, even mall security, has a gun. Army guys everywhere, security, even the school security and travel guides have guns!

Tuesday 11th (Day 8) Debbie's Dinner: When I last left you I was off to this dinner. It was to light the last Hannukah candle and catch up with Debbie, Joe and Daniel. And we were also introduced to a lovely young lady named Alyssa who is volunteering in Jerusalem doing charity work with after school kids from poor areas. The dinner consisted of Hummus and toast, soup, latkes and then ice-cream for desert. Though it doens't sound like much, I was so damn full. I also had another Jack (this time with Coke) which I poured myself, so that the level of alcohol wasn't so ridiculous. After the dinner, I spent most of the time outside with Daniel and Alyssa talking about all our friends and families, and then it was time to go home.

Wednesday 12th (Day 9) Masada and the Dead Sea: The trip started when we had to wake up this morning at 6am to get to the bus station by 7:30 and get on the bus at 8 and be in Masada by about 11ish. The trip didn't start off so hot, we coudn't figure out where the bus was, but we eventually found it, only to realize it had been sitting there the whole time - and none of the information people knew about it. Useless. Then as the trip began on the highway, there was some CD playing on the system and the woman next to us new every single one and either sang the lyrics off key, or just hummed along to the tune "la la lala la la"...good GOD that was annoying...for over and HOUR!
So then the tour guide began giving us interesting information on the way to Masada, for example: The Dead Sea is 400m below sea level and is the lowest point on Earth. The Judain Desert we were driving through used to belong more to Jordan, but was taken more by the Israelis in the battle for independance, and also the desert is all rock - no sand. Since its independance in 1948, Israel has planted more than 240 Million trees. There were many Bedouin temporary settlements along the route...and one of them had a camel in it! (Stereotype anyone?) We drove through the Syria Africa Rift Valley which is a crack in the Earth's crust which stretches from Syria through Lebanon, Israel, Ethiopia until Malawi and Mozambique.
We passed the sign which read "sea level" which was also marked by a tied up, live camel, and we continued downward. On the way we passed the city of Jericho which is the oldest city in the world, dating in at 10,000 years old.
Next, we had our pit-stop. As we drove into this gas station/restaurant, I saw a dead donkey. I also spotted a tied up camel nearby and asked the guy next to me to take a photo of me next to the camel, and he agreed as long as I did the same for him. As we were taking photos, the pit-stop owner's son came out and offered us to get on the camel. The camel growled and frothed at this idea - ill-tempered animal that it is - but we did it anyway and got some funny shots. As I was walking away, the fellow said I had to pay him for that. So, I asked how much and he looked away and said quietly, "how much do you want to give me?" we exchanged these 2 lines about 3 times until I just handed him 20 Sheckles, which is approximately $6.15, and walked away. He had probably never been given so much for such a thing. Then the other fellow on the bus, seeing that I had paid, offered to give me 10 Sheckles for he had ridden the camel too, so all up I only spent about 3 bucks on the thing. Yoffee (Excellent! in Hebrew)!
Back on the bus we passed the -400m mark and were on the straight bee-line to Masada and the Dead Sea. That Sea is god damn HUGE - 80km long and 20km wide. It's levels, however, have been slowly decreasing, especially in the last 40-50 years, so much so in fact that it is really now 2 separate lakes - the Nth and the Sth. The Nth lake, which is the one we went to, has a deepest region of 320m, and has a 32% salt level!
First, came the climb around Masada. The story here, is that there were 960 Jews inside the fortress being seiged by the Roman Army. They realized that fighting the Romans was pointless and decided rather to die than to become slaves. So they decided to all commit suicide. 10 men were selected and they were to kill the other 950 (including the women and children - some of whom were their own) and then one man would have to kill the others and when he was the last, fall on his sword. So around these ruins we walked, looking at the architecture of the place and learning it's various secrets and histories. But of course, this would not be complete without grandma. She, being VERY hard of hearing, was CONSTANTLY talking over the tour-guide - and she talks LOUDLY. And also she would often repeat things he had already said to me, and I would just nod and mention that he had mentioned these things. Also, in our tour group, there was this lovely French couple and even though they had informed us to wear light clothes and good climbing shoes - the French man had worn a full suit, minus tie, and a denim shirt...with dress shoes! But he seemed contented, so who am I to judge?
When we decended this mountain once more in the cable car, we made our way to the Dead Sea/Ein Ghedi Spa. Now, from here on, there is no grandma - she does not want to swim because of her cold, and is staying by the pool and reading. First thing, I put my clothes and belongings (except for camera) into a locker and get into the Sulfur Baths. Damn was it comfortable. Smelly as all hell, and so salty I could SEE the salt floating in the water, but warm and comfortable nonetheless. Of course, one could easily float in this shallow pool of sulfur. We were not allowed to be in more than 15 mins because the doctor's said not to (who knows why). Then I showered and moved onto the Mud Bath. This was by far one of the coolest parts of this trip. I smeared myself in the wonderful mud provided and stood in the sun. Then I showered myself in a sulfur shower and I felt like a new person. I felt light, refreshed and my skin was baby smooth. Next up I walked down the path to the Dead Sea itself. Here on in I regret not having sandles or swimming shoes. The reason for this is that the whole beach is made of a giant plateau of SALT. Hardened, sharp, beautiful salt. However, it was really only sharpest inside the water and it was smoother on the beach greater. I then walked into the water which was SO MUCH THICKER than normal water - you could FEEL the drag against your legs. Then I waded in to where most people were - which was about 1 foot deep - and then...I. Could. Float. I was lying there, legs up, or arms up, or sitting, and I was floating. It was glorious and bizarre. When I got out of this salt pool, I still had a thick layer of the stuff on me and I showered.
Then came 3:30 and it was time to go home. Because the sun sets earlier the further north you go in Israel, the sun had started to set and the vapers of salt above the Dead Sea had turned a beautiful pink. On the way, I saw an Ibek! Which is a kind of mountain goat, and you make shofer's from the horns (a ceremonial horn which is blown on passover). As the sun set over the mountains, we made our way back towards the city - towards home. I was beat. I could still feel the salt on my skin and my lips and on my tongue but I didn't care. I was beat. Never had I been so happy to arrive at grandma's apartment and rest and write to you.

Sholem Aleykhem from the Inner West of the Middle East

When I last left you, I had just visited the markets and mentioned my trip to Jerusalem was quickly approaching, as well as the trip to Masada. Before I get into details of what I've done, I'd just like to make a few more observations of Israel:

Now, as I'm sure you all remember, I mentioned how generous the pouring of my Jack Daniels was by the host of a party. What you must keep in mind that I realized I have forgotten to mention, is that Israel is NOT a drinking culture at all (bloody good thing sometimes or every driver would be dead). They tend not to drink, and anything more than 2 glasses of wine tends to get them more than tipsy - it just so happens that grandma has made friends with everything English speaker she could find and thus she has evolved her own drinking culture. On a completely unrelated note, the girls here are bloody amazing. I mean honest to God, there are fewer girls I have seen in my travels who compare in beauty to these Israelis - and don't ask me what it is, that makes them grow that way, because I just don't know. On another note, I find it interesting to mention that Grandma gets incredibly frustrated here when people don't speak english - I find this more than ridiculous as it is a HERBREW and ARABIC speaking country, and nevermind them not learning English, but SHE barely knows Hebrew, how's that for hipocrisy? And honest to God, sometimes I think she just talks to fill in the silence. I would LOVE some peace and quiet every now and then, but fuck me she is ALWAYS talking about something or nothing. She has a special relationship with the words "terrible" and "impossible" and also anything you say is wrong, and if she disbelieves you and it turns out you were RIGHT she will then say she knew it all along. Also, she is the sole perpetrator of THE most annoying sound in the world, ready? Here it is - "OooooAh!". It is usually an exclamation of grief, but damned if she doesn't use it every 20 seconds. Also, though the drivers are HORRIBLE here, they tend to be incredibly more effective at getting out of the way for ambulances...I thought that was interesting. Ok, now back to the travels.

Sunday 9th (Day..6?), Jerusalem (or in Hebrew Yirusheliam): We got up at around 9 O'Clock to catch the 10am bus to Jerusalem. Of course she drove me mad trying to find the bus stop, although it was clearly indicated. The bus ride took approx. 45 mins from Tel Aviv - including horrible traffic right near the front gate of the city. First off, we went to Yad Vashem - a 60 Acre property turned Holocaust museum. This, I must admist, was an incredibly emotional experience for me. As soon as you enter the museum, there is a display case of items salvaged from burned bodies in mass graves - mainly consisting of photographs, passports and pocket watches. As you moved through, there was all the racist Nazi propaganda on display, alongside a video of the burning of books, Hitler's speech to the army and stories told by survivors of the camps. There were also scale models of the camps, diary entries and the clothes of those who had perished. It described in great detail the atrocities which took place within the walls of places such as Aushwitz. Then we entered the "Hall of Names" which is a has a conical ceiling lined with the names and photographs of all 6 Million who died in the camps - these names were also in registry files shelved in the room. When we exited this building, we moved to a smaller one where inside there was an eternal flame burning surrounded by the names of all the concentration camps - a memory to those lost. Next we moved onto the Valley of the Communities which was a giant stone quarry like area, which was really one giant, winding rock wall and carved into it were the names of the over 1000 communities which were completely wiped out during the Nazi invasion of Europe. When we had finished at Yad Vashem, we took a taxi to the Jaffa gate and walked along until we reached the Western Wall - sometimes referred to by gentiles as the Wailing Wall. It was jam-packed with Hasidim and other tourists all standing and rocking and praying. What you're supposed to do is pray, write a note of something you wish for and place it in the wall and then kiss the wall (or kiss your hand and then kiss the wall). Now, you all know me, I'm not a religious person in the slightest. When I approached the Wall, I didn't really know what to expect. I thought maybe I'd just write something petty on a note like "may the girls I meet put out" or something equally juvenile. But when I got there, something came over me. There was something about that place which was so...important. I looked around at all these people who came from MILES around just to see, touch and pray at this wall. Instead, I wrote an entirely different note which read, "I just want the world to get along. I want the hate and war and evil to END." I folded it up, put it in the wall, kissed my hand and kissed the wall. Then I just stood there for a while, and walked away. It was just so...I dunno. As we were leaving, I had my photo taken with a couple of strapping young army lads because I vowed I'd have this done before I left Israel, and then off home we went to rest. It had been a long and emotional day.

Monday 10th and Tuesday the 11th (Day 7 and 8), The Twins and the Concert and a nice Lunch: As a result of having a cold which just wouldn't go away, I decided to rest the whole day before I went and met the twins at their house to light the Hannukah candles and go out. I was staying the night at theirs, for they lived quite far in Ramat Hasharon and it would be too hard to get back to Tel Aviv - their suggestion, not mine. When we entered their house at 8pm, I was greeted by an incredibly beautiful girl named Aviv, one of the twins, who's sister's name was Leora. Short and slight of build just like their mother, with green/blue eyes and long, brown, curly hair, they were an incredibly beautiful pair. It was also quite cool to find out that they are both musicians - one is a drummer and the other a guitarist - and they both love the same music as I. So, we lit the candles and off we went to see the acoustic music gig of the Israeli musician Ronit. To say I was impressed with her music would be an understatement. We picked up another of their friends on the way (whose name I've know forgotten) and we met another one there - she named Ophir. The gig was at a pub, so, relieved, I had 2 rum and cokes and felt good, for it had been a while since that huge Jack. The girls each had a beer or 2 and then we moved down to see the concert. The rum and cokes, however, were unlike the ones we have in Aus. Whereas we fill the glass with ONE SHOT and the rest is coke, here they fill HALF THE GLASS with rum (3 shots) and then it's coke, so having had 2 Rum and Cokes, was really like having 6 Shots with coke chasers. I was indeed very happy. The concert was so very good and though I didn't understand a word of the lyrics, it hardly mattered because the music was beautiful. When this was over, we farewelled Ophir and got in the cab for home. This cab, of course, drive like an absolute nutter and I felt like I was going to die everytime he took a turn. Finally we got home to safe land and Leora went right to bed - she's the responsible twin. Aviv and I, however, stayed up until 4:30 and talked shit and making sense. And, for the first time since I arrived in Israel, I had a good night's sleep. Sure it wasn't long, but damned if it was refreshing. It was good to see the nightlife with people my own age again. It also helped that the mattress reminded me of my own and the noise levels were equal to those I had in Chatswood, and that I have now in Glebe - very minimal. When I awoke, the mother (Susie) told me that Gran. was coming to get me at 11am - it was now 10. I went outside and sat in the sun and Susie made me an omlet - and I basked in the beautiful peace and quiet. The Twins were still asleep and it was like a sanctuary in that place. It was a wonderful rest from Grandma's incessant talking - a nice escape. The repose I so desperately needed. I could finally just sit peacefully and think - but of course, like most things, this was not to last. (Oh how I envied the life of their household dog! Just eating and resting in the sun!) When Gran. arrived to get me, even Susie said, "Peace and quiet's over..." for she understood my plight. Aviv awoke and we exchanged emails. NOW I wish I was staying for longer, so that I could go out more with these new friends. Also, for the first time in a long while, I wrote a poem. It's not too good, but it's a nice start to get back in the game. When we left the Twins' place, we went back to the apartment and I changed. Within the hour we had left again and were on our way to meet Shirley and her granddaughter Tamara for a nice lunch at the pier - oh how my social life is so busy here! and the girls! The lunch went really nicely and I finally got some BACON and then we came back to the apartment and now I am sitting here, writing to you this email.

Soon we will leave once more to go meet Debbie, for she too has a strapping young lass to intorduce me to. I tell you, I am so very tired. I have this incredibly busy social life, and I'm just not sleeping. And this chest cold isn't making things any more pleasant. I am starting to miss home a little bit though, and it's amazing to think that I've only actually been here for 8 days, despite it seeming so long, and I have another full week to go! It's very strange how slow the passage of time is here...Well, I think I've berrated you with enough information for today and I shall write again after tomorrow, which is our trip to Masada which is a LONG ASS day of walking; 8am-8pm.

Shabbat Shalom

When I last left you I was on my way to my first Hannukah party. To say the least it was an extremely pleasant time - and it being a Jewish holiday party food was more than abundant. Lots of fish (tuna, sardines, salmon) and some cheese and LOTS of Latkes (pronounced: laht-kiss: potato pancakes for the Holiday) and of course an abundance of sweet cakes for desert. When I arrived and after all introductions had been made and greetings had been exchanged with people I already knew, I was offered a drink - alcoholic. I declined wine and a Bloody Mary, but was in the mood for a Jack (Daniels) and Coke - having no coke on hand, I agreed to just a Jack. Now, from here, one can safely assume this will be a normal Jack - about 1/8th of the glass filled with 3 or 4 giant ice-cubes to fill the rest. To say he (Joe - party host) was generous on the Jack would be an understatement. He poured me a 3/4 FULL GLASS of the stuff and after seeing my mildly horrified face he simply said, "you're not driving are you?" so which I answered "no" and he the smiled and poured in a little more. I walked away from the drinks table with my giant Jack and proceeded to talk to some of the alter-cockers (yiddish for old people) who were there - most of which whom were very friendly and very lively and talkative - which I've noticed seems to be a trait of old Jewish people. Then the room was hushed and the Hannukah candles were lit by Joe and his son Daniel (he's about 40) and they also said the prayers. When this was done, the room erupted into a Hannukah song I didn't know the words to - so I simply sipped my Jack and hummed along to the tune. Each time a new dish was brought out an announcement was made which was followed by cheers which I found funny. One thing which is interesting to note; one of the guests who was there was a retired 4-star General of the Israeli army who was a CARBON COPY lookalike of Charles Bukowski. If you don't know what he looks like, look him up on google and I will swear that he looked EXACTLY like him.
After being trapped in a very boring anecdote by a retired psychologist about a wine trip, I escaped and was rescued by Daniel where we sat on the balcony and he had a smoke and I sipped at my every decreasing, but still plentiful, Jack. He is an artist who resides in London and damned if I say he is a BRILLIANT artist. Check his stuff out: www.danielmorgenstern.com .
Then, who should walk in but one of the famed Israeli beauties. An absolutely gorgeous daughter of one of the people there. With the looks of a runway model and getting her PhD in English Literature, one can easily say that I fell just a little for her. Unfortunately she has a boyfriend (whom her mother despises) but we agreed to hang out and they would both show me around the real Arab quarter.
After all this and the crowd of old folk falling in love with me, it was time to leave and to rest.

Day 2: This was mainly a day of rest and preparation for the following day which was grandma's Hannukah party. I'll take this space to make some observations about Israel as a whole. One thing you cannot do in Israel, is starve. Food is cheap and abundant. Second, I don't know if it is the bed I sleep on, the fact that my window lets in ALL the noise from the busy street below, the jetlag or the morning light, but I cannot seem to sleep past sunrise. I sleep til then and then just lie there wishing for sleep. So where normally I awaken at about 11ish, now my average awaken time is about 8. Third, the drivers. Good God they are all FUCKING inSANE! Not to mention that the car horn seems to be this countries national instrument - where one goes off on average every 3-5 seconds. No one here gives a damn about pedestrians, so you could be crossing the street on a green for yourself and the cars won't even slow down. The people drive generally between 2 lanes on the lane lines, they don't use turn signals, they drive to fast and they drive like maniacs - this I have to say, seems also to apply to Grandma, but she drives too slow and changes lanes dangerously slow. Anyone coming to Israel on vacation and who is planning on renting a car: DON'T! YOU WILL DIE!
Something else which I've noticed, but will sound like a strange observation is that when I arrived here, it REALLY felt like a different country. Now, let me explain that. From Australia, you could go to Canada, USA, Italy, England, France, Western Europe in General, New Zealand or wherever and recognise you are in a different country and appreciate that fact, but you still feel altogether comfortable because it's mildly familiar and western. Sure there's a language barrier, but most people will speak english or will try to, but generally you feel at least mildly at home in these foreign cities. With Israel, it's just totally different. And I have to realise - it's the Middle East here. It's far more Eastern, the people look very different and speak a very different and difficult language and also, it looks almost third world. Not that it doesn't have it's Newtown/Glebe/North Shore-like parts to it where everything is all kitsch - but mostly, where I live and most places I've seen, the neighbourhoods are far more ghetto-like than anywhere else, which is something I really have to get accustomed to, so as a result I don't feel as safe. And don't worry, there aren't bombings on every corner - that's sensationalisation. Also, there are cats everywhere...EVERYWHERE. I kind of feel like I'm in a bad Eastern/Russian movie because of it. Also, the people are harsher as a result of all of this. Last of all, I've only been here about 4 days and I'm already going inSANE with grandma's incessant inane-story telling, deafness and incessant talking about NOTHING over and over and...well you get the idea.

Day 3, Grandma's Party: All went well. She spent the whole day preparing the apartment and the food for the guests and then when everyone arrived all went well. There were no problems sufficed to say. I was once more engaged in conversation with many alter-cockers and found myself without anyone my age - was the youngest by about 5 decades. But conversation was good anyway. Many interesting people. And half-way in, I had impressed one woman so much that she snuck off to another room and called her granddaughter about me letting her know that I was 'cool' and that they would go ahead with a meeting for us both. Oy gevault. The food was great: minestrone soup, garlic bread, Latkes, Apple pie, cherry pie, chocolate moose, zuchini quiche, butter cookies, chocolate cookies and fresh vegetables. No one left hungry.

Day 4 (today), the markets: One thing which is great about Israel, and apparently most places in the Middle Eastern countries, is the availability, size and haggle-acceptance of the markets. Clothes, food, trinkets, jewelery - whatever you could want, you can find it at the markets for a small fraction of the regular retail price. I bought myself a nice jumper and some small trinkets for folks back home - with still more gifts to be purchased. Put in your orders now! We also walked along Shenken St. which is like the King St/Newtown of Tel Aviv - all the funky, artsy, young folk stores are there. If it wasn't raining so much today, it would be full to bursting with young people as it is a Friday afternoon.
And that's it so far up to now. I have finished a couple of books and will be going to a movie later tonight with Gran (American Gangster). Also, museums and another party tomorrow and possibly meeting up with the twins for the first time, so we'll see how all that goes. Sunday is going to be Jerusalem and Monday is Masada. I won't email until then probably.

Hoping everything is well back home and until we speak again, Khag Sameakh! (kh = the gutteral 'r' sounds; like khaking up a khairball.)

Greetings from the Promised Land

Well, after a turbulant and exhausting flight over, here I am, sitting in my grandmother's apartment! To say it was an 'interesting' ride over here would be an gross understatement. Take off from Sydney was so rough-and-tumble that I thought we'd fall right out of the sky, being that we were flying directly into storm clouds - to help me get over this, I ordered a rum and coke and listened to my mp3 and pretended it was all okay - which it turned out to be. The food on the Thai Airways flight was surprisingly good and when I wasn't eating it, I was reading or watching the awful movie selection (I have now seen Ratatouille about 4 times). I was seated next to a lovely and well-meaning Swedish woman who was visiting her "sister's daughter" in Askwith. She very much enjoyed to talk, despite the fact that her english was not so good. When she spoke, I suspected that she was using every english word she knew merely to convey a simple point. However, what I really wished she would do, was shut up.

To quote Tom Lehrer, "If a person can't communicate, the least they could do, is to shut up."

The flight was sleepless - not that I expected to get much sleep on that flight and was anticipating much slumber on my connecting flight to Tel Aviv. Despite this fact, sleep would not have been unwelcome to the now tired and bloodshot-eyed me. It didn't help that I felt like an ass everyone I got up to go to the bathroom, being that I had to climb over two people in the most unflattering was ever - I cringe to think how many times the well-mannered Swiss-Aussie in the aisle seat got a facelong view of my ass or crotch. When the plane landed in Bangkok, there were sparse claps from the passengers and I knew immediately that these were the young Jewish boys I had seen in the airport who were obviously also on their way to Israel.

I do have to say there were innate wishes to somehow manage to join the mile high club, but the thought of the flight to come and the odds of picking up a girl at 30000 feet when I can't pick one on the ground quelled these dreams quickly.

Here is where the fun starts. Let me start off by saying, I HATE Bangkok international airport. I hate it with such a passion it makes my eyes and throat burn. Within the first 10 minutes of arriving there I was reduced to a quivering mass of confusion, fear and anxiety on the verge of tears. First and foremost I couldn't find my flight number on the board which was - in as few words possible - nerve-wracking (this whole thing was much harder than expected). When I DID find someone who spoke english who could help me, she too could not find my flight. It was by pure luck and mistake that I happened to notice the flight there, sitting at the bottom of the screen having JUST appeared. It was now 20 minutes before the boarding time on my boarding pass. My troubles, however, were far from over. I then found out that my departure gate was "very far away from" my arrival gate. This, of course, means "at the opposite ass-end of the airport" in airport help-desk lingo. However, we both came to the same conclusion - run like shit. So run I did. I ran like there was no tomorrow - and really there wouldn't have been if I had missed the flight.

Then came the El Al security questioning, "Why are you going to Israel? Did you pack your bag yourself? etc. etc." After answering all of these questions I was still asked to take a seat to the side and he would be with me in a minute after a word to his supervisor. Then I thought, "This is it, I'm going to be arrested and taken away for answering a question about where I packed my bag wrong." Turns out they just wanted to get my name right in the database, but man did they let me sit there and sweat for like 10 minutes!

The flight from Bangkok to Tel Aviv was filled with sleep and more sleep. I was seated next to a Thai man who had a face that said "I will kill you and take your things while you sleep" but lucky me he didn't. By the time we landed at Tel Aviv airport, I was so tired that it felt like I had boarded that plane in Sydney about a week ago. The flights seem never-ending. I got off the plane to be one of the first to get my bags and to be greeted by my grandmother, arms open wide!

After some minor errands (I had been in the country about 3 hours when someone already asked my Gran how old I was because she had a daughter she thought I would like) we went back home, had some food and we both had a nap. Now it is 6:58pm and I am getting ready for my first Hannukah party of my stay and boy, will it be interesting judging by my tiredness - let's see how it goes!