Travel Log #19

October 15, 2009

So, what's this country like in reality, forget about the theory? Genuine is the first adjective that comes to mind. The people are genuine and actually care about each other. And it has nothing to do with status quo or money. It does have to do with politics. Everything here has to do with politics, but politics can sometimes be ignored, or at best, avoided for the time being, and we are on our merry happy family ways again. Yes, family. It's one big one here with the love-hate relationships abounding. As usual, I acquire surrogate families. I am in love with this place.

Of course, I have my qualms. You've read a little bit about them. The Religious Authority, etc. And the fact that people here smoke like chimneys in a New England winter. I'm constantly suffocating on second-hand smoke and therefore am either high off the nebulizer medication or exhausted from suffocation. But I'm good at prevailing in the face of ailments.

Food here is delicious and amazingly cheap. Since I am extremely frugal, I have been living on lettuce, cabbage, and tomatoes. For a treat, I get snitzel. All kinds of snitzel: sesame, regular, Asian, on and on.The goat cheese is also very good and to replace the kefir I got addicted to in Germany, I have found some of the best yogurt possible.

When I got to volunteer, I walk about ten minutes down the street. The street is filled with benches that are filled with people. The poeple sit around talking and playing chess and drinking שוקו (shoko). שוקו is chocolate milk in a bag. Terribly popular. Terribly addictive. Now, I have this theory about why. I mean, chocolate milk is always addictive unless, of course, it's sour. But שוקו goes beyond normal chocolate milk addiction. The first time I cut off the corner and started sucking that שוקו down, I was overwhelmed by a long-lost familiar feeling of comfort--and then it hit me. It's the ultimate pseudo breast milk experience: with chocolate. It's like breast feeding all over again with chocolate as the reward. Now, who would refuse that, particularly the overgrown, overtaxed subconscious that's been longing for a return to infancy since it ended?

I continue down the street, the שוקו packages discarded. An old woman with a cane walks ahead of me. I see a sudden white, shiny flutter and the woman pauses. I look down in awe as she reaches down and steps out of her underpants, pockets them, and continues walking...