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.